The Devil You Know

This began as a comment response to Virginia Gal's latest post. As frequently happens, I started running off at the keyboard, so I just made this a post of its own.

The reason why most Americans are less fearful of homegrown terrorism than they are of foreign terrorism comes down to people being less afraid of the devil they know versus the devil they don't know.

White people have been in America waaaayy longer than Arab and Muslim people. So, when a white asshole bombs a building, it's perceived as a freak event, because virtually every American of any creed or color knows 1,000 basically nice white people for every 1 white average jerk. However, very few average Americans - and I mean statistically, racially/ethnically average (still about 70% white) - personally know or have met more than one or two Arabs or Muslims. So, when an Arab or Muslim asshole flies a plane of mid-week passengers into a building, it's not perceived as a freak event, but as, "wow, this must be the norm!"

Some fuel to this anti-Arab or anti-Muslim prejudice, at least in my lifetime, is that the only images of Muslims we've received in the media have been of the PLO shooting old Jewish American men in wheelchairs and tossing them off the boughs of cruise ships; terrorists bombing discos frequented by Americans in Berlin; bombing our barracks and embassies in Beirut; masked gunmen killing the Israeli Olympic team in Munich; Muslim men with scarves covering half their faces chanting "death to America" and burning effigies of presidents, and flags; jihadists hijacking our airplanes in the 80s or blowing them up over foreign destinations; and not the least of images, women who must cover from head to toe and be beholden to the men in their lives, walking several paces behind their husbands who view them as nothing more than machines to make more men. (I'm sure that last image was harsh on my part, but seriously, they treat women like shit in most of these countries.) With the exception of the cultural sexism, are those vicious behaviors freak occurrences in the Arab world and among Muslims? Almost certainly. But how can you expect an average American - who may or may not have ever met an Arab or Muslim - who only gets that news and those images to think that there is not a threat posed against him from the average Arab or Muslim?

Speaking for myself, even the American who wants to look beyond the bad news events and knows that most people in the world are basically decent, if flawed, still views the Arab world with a good dose of suspicion and distrust (as evidenced by my assertion of their sexism). I believe in working to deliberately stamping out stereotypes, but the anti-stereotype PSAs and campaigns that arose after 9/11, intending to help the average American know that the average American Arab or Muslim wasn't out to get them, were a bit too little too late by at least 15 years. I'm glad they were there, but by the time they ran, we'd been getting Arab/Muslim terrorist news since the 70s. Why was it only after the towers were destroyed that the Arab community and "moral media influencers" felt the need to make sure people in Omaha knew that an NYC cabbie was not an enemy of the state?

The stereotypes are unfair to the vast majority Arab and Muslim Americans, but being counfounded that the average American buys into them is like being confounded that someone who's only ever gotten food poisoning off of shellfish is extremely suspicious of the ceviche you made. No matter how bloody awesome, slap-your-momma good the ceviche is.

All that said, it isn't like white men have been profiled, at least in the past. It just isn't as obvious, because, most Americans are familiar with white men so they don't notice profiling. How do I know? Before the days of 9/11, when I traveled by air by myself, I was pulled aside for a random swab of my carry-ons for explosive materials, or open bag check maybe 20% of the time. When I traveled with Honey, it was 80% of the time - and I can only assume it was higher for him, traveling alone. Why? Because Honey fits the physical Timothy McVeigh stereotype. He is an averaged-height blonde with close-cropped hair; a blue-eyed young man who is quiet and carries himself with a military bearing. He looks like he could be the type who'd join a government-fearing militia. (THANK GOD, Buddha and Oprah that he's exactly the opposite!) It did distress me that once 9/11 happened, the airport distrust of him entirely dissipated immediately. Just because we have a new threat doesn't mean the old one has gone away. But his profiling wasn't problematic because as an educated white man ascending a solid career ladder, in a society built to support educated white men in power, even if he's inconvenienced for 5 minutes, he faces basically no other prejudices, suspicions or harassments.

And that's where it's harder for Arab Americans or frankly, for anyone who looks like they come from a predominantly Muslim country. If the dark skinned guy with a prayer cap is pulled aside for extra check, no big deal. But that same guy gets side-long glances everywhere, all the time. He's probably been the direct recipient of a racial slur from some raging asshole at some point in his life, or at least the recipient of some insensitive comment from someone who may not have known any better. He's hypersensitive to his differentness in this WASP-affluence society. That's not to say he shouldn't be pulled aside for a check; it's just to say it probably feels as much like yet another indignity as an inconvenience.

I genuinely hope the recent cowardly murder of Dr. Tiller and the horrible episode of at the Holocaust museum will re-open our eyes to domestic threats. American-grown extremists are out there and, I suspect, since we turned our backs from them, they have been quietly steeping in the past decade or so. Unfortunately, through first-hand conversations with people who have this experience, I've learned how hard it is for law enforcement officials to make a move on extremist groups and individuals. I know we like to complain about all the damage that the Bush administration did to our civil liberties - and I do think he did - but there are still plenty of levels of bureaucracy out there to protect us from wrongful investigation and arrest. So much so that people like that bitter old white supremacist from last week, who may have indeed been on a watchlist, are still able to do what he did. A watch list is just that. Our law enforcement agencies, from the fed through the local, don't always have the teeth we think they do.

In the meantime, I suppose all those of us on the ground can do is work to recognize our own fears and work against them. And maybe, just maybe try to befriend someone who is different from us - racially, politically, religiously, regionally, sexually, etc - so that we can mutually influence one another. Build our tiny bridges where we can.

Sad and confounded

Benazir Bhutto is dead.

That was not the breaking news headline that greeted me at 8:30 this morning. Instead it was "Suicide Bomber kills 2o at Bhutto rally ... more details to come." It was only as I was pulling into the parking lot of my office that I heard the announcer on our local NPR station say that the blast also took Bhutto. I felt a welling sadness sink into my stomach and my eyes began to wet.

I liked Benazir Bhutto and I'm not really sure why. Like most Americans, I don't keep up with Pakistani politics, other than knowing they get into nuclear pissing contests with India every few years. I know that Bhutto was controversial and probably marginally better than other Pakistani leaders, at best, if that. I don't know if her human rights record was any better than anyone else's. Nonetheless, she seemed to be modern and unashamed. She seemed to be exactly the kind of female the Muslim world needs in a leadership position. (Hell, in a visible position at all.) My God: she didn't marry until she was 34! And she really only did it because she knew her political career needed it. Maybe she was otherwise happy being single. She did not demure, publicly, once she was a wife. Her marital status did not subject her to being a submissive piece of property. Hell no! And though she wore a veil when in office, she made it look good, girlfriend! How I WISH the Muslim world produced more women like her! Now that she's gone, what Muslim women carry the banner of Strong, Public and visible at all? Queens Noor and Rania are the only ones I can think of. Bhutto was a kind of hero in my book. ... of course, it doesn't hurt that she at least gave the impression of being pro-American during my lifetime.

And now she's dead.

Another bloody idiot with a bomb strapped to his chest sent her, and 20 innocent human beings, to their deaths! I am so angry and sick and tired of these self-hating, self-righteous morons who feel that other people should have to suffer - AND DIE - for their own pain. Your life sucks. I get it. So if you're not going to get help, kill your own self. Don't barge into a classroom and knock out a couple dozen students before you spray your own brains; don't go park-and-pop next to a group of job applicants trying to feed their families after a botched to hell invasion; ; don't barge into church or a mosque and take out some worshippers and the clergy because your wife hates you or whatever; don't brood-and-boom on a public bus because the ruling class in your country is treating you like shit; don't hijack a plane and crash it into heavily populated buildings because the owner of the building is an imperial prick. The adage of "if you're not part of the solution you're part of the problem" is not only true, it should have an extra line for suicide bombers: "you make the problem worse for everybody - and 1,000 times worse for everybody you think you're helping."

Of course, I can't help thinking Musharraf might be behind this. He may have been helpful to us post-9/11, but seriously, this is dude who took over his country in a military coup. I can never tell what to make of him. Sometimes I want to like him, and others ... not so much. Especially in the last year or so. I don't envy his position. But I don't take him off the hook for this one. ... Pervez, you'd better not be behind this one. Jon Stewart gave you a Twinkie, for God's sake!

My thin veil

I don't remember where I had read this, but I recall reading somewhere about the origins of Halloween that the Druids or Celts or erstwhile ancient folks who lived in sun-deprived, rain-soaked northern Atlantic isles believed that the period we now call Halloween was the time when the thin veil separating the living from the dead was lifted, and they could cavort.

This time of year always finds me anxious, irritable and fearful. And I always forget it's coming until I'm steeped in it. Such is the case again, this year. It is all due to the attacks. Labor Day through the 21st or so is time my thin veil is lifted. But this veil doesn't separate life and death so much as the comfort of reliability and abject fear and chaos.

I want nothing more than to draw nearer to my husband during this time of year. As both of our jobs demand a lot of this time of year also, it's difficult. The little time we have together is rarely "quality" time. In the last two or three years, I've managed to bear through the veil days with almost no angst. This year is different. I'm more agitated. I suspect it's all due to the fact that this is the first time sine that dread day that the 11th falls on a Tuesday. I've been re-running my memories of the days leading up to and after the attacks over again and again in my head. There is more a fear of the Groundhog Day effect this year than I have had in years past.

I find myself holding my breath more than usual, this year. I pray the veil closes, soon.

Just when I think things are getting better ...

I met with the last prof who needed to comment on my thesis, this afternoon. My other two professors have commented and their adjustments are relatively simple to fix. I thought today's meeting would be about an hour long. It was three hours long. He basically took a scalpel to it.

This is due, with all signatures in two and a half weeks. But really, it's due in 10 days, because I'll be out that last week.

The good news is that he knows it's unrealistic and unreasonable that I would be able to implement all the changes he suggested. Also good news is that it won't require any new research. In fact all his feedback was excellent, however daunting. I just wish I'd gotten it a week or two earlier, as I had originally sent this to him over three weeks ago! His request is that I "do what I can." And that is what I will do.

In the meantime, I've still got travel adjustments to make for our upcoming trip. I've got a movie review to write for my friend's rapidly growing blog. I've got medical appointments to line up. I've just been named logistics goddess at work for a project that's about to vomit all over us in the coming weeks. I've got articles to proofread and somewhere in the mix: sleep to get. I'm really writing complaining about this to get my juices flowing so that I can begin to tackle the beast in earnest yet again. Okay ... let's try this one more time.

Cutter! Come bandage the scrape above Molly's eye and blot her bloody lip. Alright Molly, round 5 now. What did Mama say? Mama said knock you out! I'm gonna knock you out!

A grouse and a gladness

One problem about having the radio alarm set to NPR is that sometimes the first thing you hear in the morning just depresses or angers the crap out of you. Such was the case this morning when I heard about the latest update on BBC reporter Alan Johnston. The latest video shows him with an explosives belt strapped around his waist.

What the crap? If Palestinian separatists and dissidents want help and respect from the outside world, maybe the should drop the shit like threatening people who are there to tell their stories or killing wheelchair-bound cruise-goers or even blasting their own damn selves up in shopping centers! They've been pursuing terrorist and illegitimate means for over 20 years (in my lifetime anyway) to right what many people in this world agree is a political wrong. And what has it gotten them? Some of the worst unemployment in the world and a big fat wall. Here's a thought: try some Ghandi-style peaceful resistance. It took 20 something years in India, but it looks like you guys have all the time in the world on your hands, just no patience or even any realistic or reasonable goals. Here's another thought: I can't speak to the opinion of local Israelis, but I know that my Jewish friends here would prefer an Israel where Palestinians and Israelis live peaceably with dignity and opportunity. Your adversary may be actually be your ally if you stop and listen. But violence does not breed a credible partner.

There is some good news in my life. I don't want to post only on irritating subjects.

For one, Babydog has decided to sleep in this morning. This is good for me, because this means we'll probably have breakfast together, instead of her at 5AM and me at 8:30.

More excitingly, though, last night, I sent in my completed thesis to my thesis committee for their review and revisions. If I understand the process correctly, once they have sent it back to me, I make the changes, they and my advising professor sign off on it, I send it to the library and we're done! Since there's essentially nothing I can do with the content this week, I'll use this week to go to Staples and buy the correct weight paper that it's supposed to be printed on. And I'll run it by the library again to be reviewed for formatting. I have to admit that I'm rather nervous. Having worked on this for the last 10 months, I know the vein of my advising professor's comments, but not the general opinions of the committee members'. So I don't know what to expect when it gets kicked back!

TEN MONTHS! As Honey was saying last night, this thesis is past due. We need to induce! And how! I'm so ready for this to be over. And when it's done and we can stick a fork in it and it's published and I can truly chant, "no more pencils, no more books," then I'm looking forward to sleeping for two months and having a big ol par-tay!

What's Molly Dreaming Now? Edition 3

It has been almost a month since I've blogged anything. Why is this? Because my thesis will never die and it has been keeping me out of the blogosphere (and rehearsals for my show had begun). My professor wanted it to be done, forever and ever amen by next Friday. But due to some delayed communications, it will probably be at least another month. Chispas!

In any event, stress over my thesis has definitely been affecting my dreams. Namely, I've been dreaming of tornadoes again. Tornadoes are Molly's shorthand for sinister mayhem in her life. Quite often I won't even know that I'm under stress until I begin dreaming of twisters. It's the dreamworld tornadoes that often reveal the stress that I've been suppressing and bring it to the surface for me to acknowledge. (And sometimes deal with.)

But the tornadoes haven't plagued my dreams for a few days now. No, what surprised me was theme of my dream last night.

It was current day. Bush had just suspended the Constitution and taken sole control of the government. Another terrorist attack had just occurred on our soil, but it was not as vast or terrifying as 9/11. All I remember from my dream were the feelings of anger, disenchantment, disillusion and utter sorrow - not at the attack, but at the totalitarianism, at the fragility of our democracy that I love and take for granted and our apparent willingness to cede it so quickly to a single person under the guise of security. (A person who consistently displays no regard for the lessons history or promise to the future, no less.) And in my dream, I was terrified that I would be jailed and my family disbanded, simply because I - and my family - don't like our president and have been "foolish" enough in the present to actually exercise our freedom of speech both publicly and privately, against him and the policies he pursues in my name.

I wandered the streets of my neighborhood wailing like madwoman; hands in my hair, mouth agape. The image that flashed in my mind in my dream was that of an American flag. It was like any other American flag, except that the second red stripe under the blue field had been stripped out and replaced with a black stripe.

What triggered this dream, I don't know. I just know this morning, talking to Honey while he had breakfast, I had a feeling of dread. I seemed to worry that there would be a terrorist attack in the near future. Then I remembered my dream. Maybe it was the story in the news lately of the JFK plot. That's really scary, but I haven't really been following it closely. I also seem to remember hearing on C-Span radio a few weeks ago, though, that Spanky had quietly signed some piece of legislation essentially allowing him to suspend the Constitution and assume all control in a time of crisis if he felt it necessary. But I don't know the details of that, either. Quite frankly, the prospect of a single person taking over our government is equally terrifying to me as another 9/11 or a more invasive attack from a foreign agent. In fact, it's more terrifying: how can we fight to preserve our democracy, our "freedom," if we don't feel it can stand in times of direst crisis?!

Then

We tend to talk about it in the historical context in our household. But last night we talked about the more personal effects and memories.

The sunlight on his face in the bus on the ride in. What page he was on in his book. I was foolish enough to think I was going to finish mine - a book that had been confounding me for months - that day. (Of course I didn't know.) The sound of the phone ringing in the apartment building. The fear that the rising smoke, blowing directly toward my office was a threat. What a gorgeous day it was. How every woman who has wailed in confusion and sorrow after a male family member has been in the proximity of a blast flooded my soul - we were all together in one body screaming in different languages. The longest ride home of my life during which we stopped to pick up R's husband: "We don't know if Honey is alive, the least we can do is take care of the one we do know is." The friendliness of the bus driver who drove us in to the station. Where we sat on the bus: right side, a row or two in front of the back doors. The morning light on his face on the ride in. The building we were in front of when he looked up from his book to look at me. What a georgeous day it was. As we parted at the station and I told him, "I love you," and he merely smiled and waved as he walked on: how irritated I was at him. The poster in the train: the xylophonist in bare feet. My thoughts riding in: "Why is it we always wait for a disaster before we do anything?" The yellow blouse-grey skirt combination that I never wore again out of supserstition. How I was going to find a new dentist that morning, after my front desk shift. I hated that my department forced its lackeys to cover the front desk. The confused looks on people's faces in the lobby. I was going to go to an audition that night. How useless my cell phone was. The sound of a second boom. The sight through the rear windshield of black smoke rising in great billows. People driving politely for once. The lady who let us in, so I flashed her a peace sign - she looked very disconcerted; we must have, too. The guy walking down the street wearing a gas mask and no shirt, carrying a brief case. Comic relief. Voices on NPR speculating on who could've done this. The news across the radio of the 4th plane in PA. Were they all going to be falling out of the sky? The awkwardness when I finally got to the apartment and found honey alive - we shouldn't be here, in this universe in this time. Our bodies were in the same space, but our souls were jarred, floating a few feet off center of our bodies. We paced the apartment the remainder of the day, pausing occassionally to hug eachother. I cleaned, vaccumed mostly, like crazy. It was such a beautiful day. Phone calls when they started working. E-mails. The only machines in the sky were military. I cleaned like crazy. I developed a calm: goodness will prevail in the hearts of man. I was even happy. Calling in to the office to tell them I wouldn't return to work for the rest of the day because I felt "sick." (That I felt opressed enough by my employer to fake a sickness on the remainder of that day.) We couldn't eat for the rest of the day. (I vomited what little I had the next morning when it was clear it was not all a dream.) What we needed most from TV was more information. What we needed most from TV was a string of sitcoms.

It was such a gorgeous day.