hopelesshappiness.com

I have grown weary of the wait. Promises. Good Intentions. Baby Steps. Bullshit. Goodness stymied by fear. As a species, as long as each generation considers only their self, and as long as token leadership continues to follow the rules, it appears we will maintain ourselves into nonexistence. It does not have to be.

Last week I called out my employer (who claims to want “to address historical imbalances”) by asking how much more historical can you go than the imbalance between the privileged and the majority? And while on the surface, working through inclusion, diversity and equity initiatives in the interest of “race/ethnicity, gender/gender identity, sexual orientation, country of origin, and ability as well as cultural, political, religious, or other affiliations,” appears to be worthwhile (and often, to an extent, is), even when successful the result is deserving individuals given more opportunity to buy into and maintain the status quo. Then we are stymied by our fear that the advances we have made, (if we keep asking for more), might somehow be rescinded. We must go deeper. The true villain is class difference; and of course because the privileged class makes the rules and the decisions, class difference will remain – same as it ever was.

And my employer's response? Consistent. I once again was referred to an HR rep. The entirety of their response was, “Much like last year (email attached), your concerns were forwarded to me, as the School of Medicine HR Director. Please let me know if you would like to set up a time to discuss your concerns.”

Token leadership. Token gesture.

As a species, we believe we thrive but the Truth is, we are slowly fading away.

I am sad.

My employer claims that they “[strive] to be a 21st century learning community defined by excellence through the affirmation of differences in the composition of its leadership, faculty, staff, and students.”

I say Bullshit.

They go on to define diversity as “The various mix or combinations of human differences and group/social differences that can be engaged in the service of learning and working together.” They identify human differences as “personality, learning styles, and life experience” and they identify group/social differences as “race/ethnicity, class, gender/gender identity, sexual orientation, country of origin, and ability as well as cultural, political, religious, or other affiliations.”

From this it appears that leadership claims to strive for “differences in the composition of its leadership” and they include “class” as one of those differences, but I am yet to find anyone in leadership who is not part (or who does not think of their self as part) of the privileged class. Or perhaps they are only affirming what differences exist and not necessarily striving to ensure a representative mix? If that is their reasoning, their claims are manipulative and misleading. And I believe it is not only fair, but necessary, to differentiate between leadership and token leadership (though token leadership, if not one of the privileged, still represents the privileged) and between actual improvement and token gestures.

Then, within their definition of equity, my employer says, “To advance equity is to allocate resources, programs, and opportunities to staff, faculty, and students to address historical imbalances.”

I would argue that income is covered by the umbrella of resources and opportunity, and I would strongly argue that greater income does not equitably equate to greater ability and that more and more frequently there is less and less correlation between income and ability. And, how much more historical can you go than the imbalance between the privileged and the majority?

Until this year I made less than $20 per hour. I am not sure if the increase I received this year that bumped me just over that bar is because someone believed I deserved it or because I am loud; but I am as certain as I can be that it did not come around to address any historical imbalance. (And this is not to say that $20 per hour is a magical kingdom of equity; it is still far below the average hourly income of $37.41 as calculated for the 9,743 employees included in this assessment.)

A year ago, I reached out to leadership to argue some of these points, and I was cast aside; shunted off to an HR rep who wanted to quote policy and procedure that protects the status quo; a token leader who wanted to defend a bureaucracy that protects the privileged. And regarding token gestures: I consistently receive invitations to provide input (in the words this week of the University president) “to create a more inclusive environment” or some such rhetorical parallel. I will once again take him up on his offer and provide him with this input and, (same as it ever was), fully expect to once again be unheard; shut down. No one in a position to do so wants to risk their privilege by doing the hard work that might actually make a difference. Yes, this hard work of empathy minus self-interest and entitlement goes against the grain of the American Way and it would take the air completely out of the myth that is the American Dream, but if, (as happened last year), we continue to widen the gap by rewarding larger percentage increases to those who are privileged, (some identifiable pockets of leadership including so-called equity specialists received between 8 and 11 percent raises and then so-called leadership turned around pretending largesse giving our custodial staff 1.77%), all actions and all leadership will merely continue to be tokens serving the status quo.

I claim that any difference other than class has become a device utilized by leadership on any scale to distract, manipulate, mislead and maintain. There are real steps we can take toward eliminating class differences, and until we begin this hard work, I say Bullshit.

Suggestions:

• Percentage pay increases for those in the top 10% are tied to the average percentage pay increase for those year to year making less than $20 per hour. Last year this (respective) difference was 5.52% vs. 0.33% which would have saved nearly 12 million payroll dollars.
• Take the savings from above and distribute it amongst the bottom 25%. This action would have resulted in an additional (highly impactful) $400 per month for the working poor, and it would have narrowed the wealth gap a baby step.

I personally believe that even more drastic steps are necessary, but there are many practical arguments against any plan that might result in a noticeable narrowing of the wealth gap. So I believe the bureaucratic institution I work for will continue to distract, manipulate, mislead and maintain, and every so often I will become loud, and every so often they will bump me up to shut me up, and because everyone is so wrapped up in their own American way, empathy will continue to be addressed by token leadership with token gestures. This makes me sad.

1. Hot pink, pale pink.
2. Bright blue, light blue.
3. Blood red, watery red.
4. Dark yellow, mellow yellow.
5. Blazing orange, faded orange.
6. Deep purple, soft purple.
7. Neon green, dull green.

Terrifying creatures. Giant behemoths, snarling and grinning wildly; bending down to peek through our third floor windows. That summer, my tenth of (now) sixty-three, remains the worst summer of my life.

It was the week school let out; five neighborhood kids in the 1970's. We had to play the game. He trapped us that day and before he would let us go he made us play and promise to come play again. He was nice enough and we were pretty sure, then, he was just joking. At first we thought it was fun; exciting. The danger was introduced in degrees like a stovetop heating water on low heat. The rules were simple. I was the youngest and the order went from youngest to oldest. The first person picked a color, the second person picked an adjective and so on until all 28 words were gone. The trick was, you not only had to remember your words, you also had to try to remember the words others had taken because if you didn't and picked a color for a third time or picked an adjective again, you missed that turn. Those first few times, if the other players who already had your word didn't call out and claim it, the referee (that's what we took to calling him), stopped play and (with a stern look) reminded the errant player and made them claim their word; and even though he never wrote anything down, he was always right. At the end, each player had to recite their words in the order adjective-color, adjective-color, etc. but not necessarily in the order they had been chosen and we were encouraged to jumble the pairings from the originals as written. Each successful pairing was worth points, but any unpaired, leftover words were minus points; and, depending on both the successful pairings and the leftovers, each one was worth a different number of plus or minus points. The rules were simple, but the scoring was not. It took some of us a good part of the summer to sort of figure out the scoring and work it in our favor, but Seth and Teresa, they never did get it. Even though I was the youngest, (we all were only a couple of years apart), me and Emily stayed pretty steady in the top two, and Bruce pretty much stayed in the middle all the time. If you haven't figured it out, the scoring was cumulative all summer long, but the order of finishes per game held pretty true to the running totals, (with a handful of significant exceptions). The other thing me and Emily and Bruce couldn't figure out is how the referee knew when we were bluffing. See, after playing a couple of times, me and Emily, (and Bruce after a couple of weeks), figured out that it might be advantageous (especially towards the end of a game) to miss a turn. The first time I tried this, the referee called my bluff, (literally said, “I call your bluff”), and assigned me exactly the word I was most not wanting. The three of us compared notes on this all summer and I don't think he was wrong once, even though we kept trying to be more and more clever about it. So Bruce gave up trying about halfway through the summer and Emily was far more judicious than I was. I just didn't think it was possible for him to be right every time, so I had to keep testing him; I refused to learn, and it cost me more and more as the summer progressed. I kinda think maybe Emily did figure out how to successfully bluff a time or two, but she would never admit that to me. One thing never changed: until that very last time, the week before school started again, he made us promise each and every time to come back and play again. And each and every time, we did. A couple of times after he let us go for the day, we swore to each other that we wouldn't go back, but those times, come that third day of not going back, we would start seeing him hanging around our houses, or talking to our moms at the market, or to our little brothers or sisters at the playground. And so each and every time, we went back. Most times he just made us promise and no time limit was set, and he was always there when we went like he knew when we were coming. But three or four times he said the day after tomorrow and that one time in early July, he made us promise tomorrow. That was a bad time.

The first escalation came as we went through June. Instead of a stern look for not remembering to claim our own word when someone else called it out, he began to be verbally abusive by (at first) making snide remarks about our inability to remember and (then) more and more personal remarks about our lack of intelligence and questioning the integrity of our lineage and (finally) yelling and threatening possible physical abuse if we were unable to keep up with this (in his mind) minimal requirement. It was the 70's; we had teachers like this. Still, it was at this point that we decided a couple of times to not go back and first saw him hanging around our neighborhood and approaching and talking to not only family members but other neighbors and even once to the beat cop that patrolled the neighborhood. So we kept going back to the game and by towards the end of June we were all nearly perfect on remembering our own words, though it pushed Seth and Teresa nearly to their limit to do just that.

Next came the physical abuse; though he never touched us. Sometime in June, the referee started reciting the definitions of leftover adjectives. For example, early on, once when I had neon leftover he said, “a chemically inert gaseous element occurring in small amounts in the earth's atmosphere, used chiefly in a type of electrical lamp.” As he was speaking I felt a tiny build-up of tingling throughout my arms and legs, strangely, (though I know you're thinking power-of-suggestion to a ten-year-old), strangely like an electrical charge. Other times Hot resulted in a sunburn for Teresa and Blazing Hot, a fever for Seth. That's not power-of-suggestion. Coincidence? Maybe. But there were a lot of coincidences that summer. And as the summer progressed, these coincidental afflictions got incrementally worse.

In the end, Seth was gone, Teresa was wrecked, (the way it turned out, for Life), Bruce managed to escape and forget, I did okay, though still dealing with the anger, and Emily appeared to grow stronger from the experience and in the intervening decades has done quite well for herself. There are a lot of stories to tell, all going back to and including that summer.

This last week going into the new year, I would like to say something uplifting, encouraging, hopeful, happy…

And if I limit myself to only personal statements that could be construed as positive, here is what I have to say:

• I am appreciative and grateful; my circumstance could certainly be worse.
• I enjoy family, food, music, books, walking and learning anywhere along the spectrum from comfort through surprise to exceeds expectations.
• I work hard.
• I have empathy.

Happy New Year.

Perhaps next week I will look at New Year's resolutions.

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the what

Sat we creatures of comfort pretending we're not;

My thoughts were all strung hither, yon and back there,

Bemoaning my tough life from my comfy chair;

.

Kids nationwide sleep all snug in extremes,

Their visions of plenty for some were just dreams;

But mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,

We got this. We're charged up. Gift-buying's a snap.

.

Then up in my face there arose such a clatter,

Twas mamma with more thoughts for gifts that would matter

Away to Amazon I flew like a flash,

Tore open my wallet and spewed future cash.

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Cocooned in my shell of sentient desire

Gave lackluster verve to my drive to aspire,

Then, what to my wondering eyes should appear,

But a last minute sale, full of Christmas good cheer,

.

With a little old tagline, so lively and quick,

I knew in a moment I must be St. Nick.

More rapid than eagles I saw what to buy,

And I whistled, and shouted, and started to cry;

.

Now, Gift Cards! Now, Wargames! Now, eBooks and Streams!

On, Smartphones! On Tablets! On Laptop Extremes!

To the top of the checkout! Sent off to devices!

Reflecting no naughty! Just bunches of nices!

.

As dry heaves that before more spewing commences,

I cheat my wallet for the sake of pretenses,

So up towards the limit my gift-buying flew,

With a cart full of noise, and too much ballyhoo.

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Then in this unthinking, I heard myself think

Financing, withdrawing, as balances shrink

Will sustain my acceptance, my going along,

With a system that Christmas helps to keep strong.

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The image of Santa in fur head to foot,

In clothes that are tarnished with ashes and soot;

And that bundle of toys he has flung on his back,

And that reference to a peddler just opening his pack.

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A picture that twinkles! So simple and merry!

Red tape that imposes with rules arbitrary!

Santa’s smug little mouth, drawn up like a bow,

Approving this Christmas financial outflow;

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The trumpeted hype that comes round in December,

And the smoke and mirrors preserve and dismember;

Santa’s broad, lying face and little round belly,

Disarm then surprise like a bite of beer jelly.

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He’s all chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,

And I laugh when I see him, in spite of myself;

But that wink of his eye and twist of his head,

Is misunderstood; there is so much to dread;

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Complacent and puffed up, we don’t want to work,

All bosses, regardless, we think they’re a jerk,

The truth though is different, as Santa Claus knows,

We’re just caught in a system we cannot depose;

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We must find a new way to shout, cry and whistle,

When we’re trapped in conceit we should struggle and bristle,

So next year I promise, I’ll set things to right,

"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night.”