Everyday Sociology Blog

Meeting "The Other" David Wilson

By Janis Prince Inniss

I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia, the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.

Martin Luther King

I have heard that portion of the famous “I Have A Dream” speech delivered by Dr. King at the Lincoln Memorial in 1963, or portions of it many times, particularly in February (Black History Month). Exactly 45 years after that stirring speech the first African-American made his acceptance speech, becoming the first presidential nominee from a major party, indicating that at least some of Dr. King’s dreams are on the way to being realities. 

But never has that particular sentence been so alive as when I saw a documentary broadcast on MSNBC entitled Meeting David Wilson. The documentary chronicles the meeting between David A. Wilson, great-great-grandson of an enslaved Ghanian, and David B. Wilson, great-great-grandson of the Ghanaian’s slave owner. The film captures the emotional journey taken by 28-year-old David A. to meet David B. in North Carolina. Through genealogy research David A. found David B. and decided to make the trek from his New Jersey/New York home into the world of his ancestors who were enslaved in North Carolina. David B. Wilson was 62 when the documentary was made; he grew up on a farm and graduated from a segregated North Carolina high school in 1961. Their first interaction, however, was by telephone when David A. called David B. and said:

Hello, Mr. David Wilson? Well, my name is David Wilson, and I believe your family once owned mine.

With that memorable beginning, and after spending some time together, the men had the following conversation: 

David B: What about the idea that your family was still in Africa—had you not gone through the difficulties of slavery you might still be entrenched in poverty with no chance for improvement in America?

David A: Had we not been here and not taken to America, there a real possibility that America might too be entrenched in poverty, because we helped structure this country.

Here, the men grapple with an issue that many blacks and whites probably think about, particularly in the heat of racial animosities. Usually such sentiments are left unspoken, but in this case, the feelings were expressed and discussed. David B. wonders—aloud and on camera—about what might be called a major benefit of slavery to enslaved Africans. According to this line of reasoning, being forcibly brought to the U.S. improved the lives of Africans, by giving them a chance at the American Dream. Moving people out of poverty for a shot at the American Dream sounds like a noble cause, and casts slavery in the light of a social welfare program. But can we really put aside the forcible nature of slavery? Perhaps it is the brutality to which David B. refers in speaking of “the difficulties of slavery”.

Examining that perspective further, how many of us have credible information regarding the material life of Africans who were enslaved before being captured? Are we making ethnocentric and/or Eurocentric assumptions when we proclaim life in the U.S. was better? 

Another aspect of that argument is the notion that descendants of enslaved Africans receive a chance at the American dream. With the largest black middle class in American history, today many African Americans are experiencing the bounty of the American dream. Yet, the life chances of far too many African Americans continue to be reduced. And many social scientists attribute the major social ills that plague segments of the African American population to ongoing struggles as a result of slavery. 

David A.’s belief that the U.S. might be “entrenched in poverty” without the aid of enslaved Africans in its building is also worth examining. What reliable information do we have about the role of enslaved Africans in America’s wealth building? How could we determine whether enslaved Africans played a critical role in the wealth building of the U.S.?

In essence, each racial ”side” represented by the two Davids, thinks he has done the other a favor by being in the U.S. How much of the tensions between blacks and whites in America is related to this belief, which ultimately keeps each on an opposing side as if on competing teams? 

And how much of the racial tensions is a result of non-communication? Before they meet, David Wilson of New Jersey, with only stereotypes to draw on for his namesake, says that he believes the North Carolina David will be “a tobacco-chewin’, straw eatin’, rifle totin’, rockin’ chair sittin’, lemonade drinkin’ redneck”. However, after they spent time together, David B. saw David A. less in the role of slave owner, but as “more of a decent and kind-hearted human being”. Clichéd as it is, the role of communication in beginning to see a different point of view is critical.

Meeting David Wilson depicts one of Dr. King’s dreams: The descendants of a former enslaved African and that of a former slave owner sat together, walked together, and talked together. In talking about difficult topics such as slavery and its impact on America today, reparations, segregation, guilt and blame, the men discovered that they were both “decent” men. In fact, David A. took about fifty members of his extended family members with him to North Carolina to meet the other Wilsons on the plantation where both sets of ancestors had lived their separate and unequal lives. The willingness of the two David Wilsons to tackle difficult subjects in a harmonious manner seemed to have a profound impact on their lives and those of many family members. Do you think conversation can create change?

Racism, Police, and Self-fulfilling Prophecies

By Janis Prince Inniss

In many quarters, if I say that I am happy that I was not born or raised in the U.S., Americans of many stripes would a) become angry; b) become defensive; and/or c) wonder why I don’t go back to where I came from! (As a tax-paying naturalized American, I am exercising my option to live in the U.S.) 

But there are times when this fact of birth affects my life more than others. One time, for example, I was attending a meeting in which we discussed the horrendous birth outcomes for black women in America. When I consider the fact that black immigrants to this country have infant mortality rates that are on par with white women, but that after just one generation of living in America, foreign-born black women have the same kind of outcomes as African American women, then (but not only then) I am grateful for my place of birth. Perhaps this kind of comparison gives you some idea of why I am glad that I was not born or reared in the U.S. 

In my twenties, a natural point at which I began to think more seriously about what I wanted in terms of marriage and children, I always became terrified at the mere thought of having children in the U.S. – particularly by the thought of raising boys here. Recently, I was reminded of those fears at a gathering in which black women talked about the stresses they endure because of their fears for their black sons. One woman talked about having to respond to her teenage son who had been called a n***** not once, not twice, but three times during a short walk home in a Tampa suburb. This is exactly the kind of scenario that worried me when I thought about having children—particularly a son-- in the U.S. 

I used to wonder how I would help my children deal with racism. Although I did not grow up in a "race free" society, my racial and ethnic identifications were formed in a much different environment. I wondered whether that very different experience would make it impossible for me to help my children successfully navigate race in the U.S. context. 

Fast-forward from my fears years ago to last month. As she was promoting her six hour show, Black in America on the radio, a comment by CNN anchor Soledad O’Brien struck me. O’Brien described being surprised by the fact that just about everyone she interviewed–regardless of their station in life—talked about having “the talk” with their children and teenagers. No, not the one about s-e-x! The talk about what to do when they are pulled over by the police, often called “DWB (Driving While Black)! That O’Brien heard about this important conversation across class lines struck me for many reasons. First, that she did hear it repeated so often. And second, I have never had that conversation with either of my step-children, nor did I think their father had. (I checked and although they are old enough to drive now, he has not.)

Which brings me back to the beginning of this piece—and to my fears of not being American born and of being afraid that I wouldn’t be able to prepare my potential children for the prejudice they would face here. Maybe not being as familiar as African Americans with racism is a good thing in that I don’t always expect it or see it. The flip side of that is that not recognizing racism may be to my detriment. But what if having “the talk” and other such experiences carry with them an element of a self-fulfilling prophecy?

What if the expectation that an interaction with the police encourages a negative interaction with law enforcement from African Americans? Note, that the self-fulfilling prophecy in this example could be in effect for both the citizen and the police: What if expecting a negative interaction with a black motorist encourages the police to have a negative interaction with him or her? In more than twenty years each in the U.S., neither my husband nor I have had negative interactions with the law. Of course our individual experiences do not mean that countless others have not, or that graphic examples such as the Rodney King beating do not give us pause. 

Although we are both aware of instances of police brutality that seem the result of racism, apparently neither of us expect it, or assume it to be the exception rather than the rule. Maybe we are foolish because it means we are ill prepared for what may happen to us, and as a result maybe we have in some way handicapped our kids. As a student of sociology you know that neither my experience, nor those commented on by Soledad O’Brien, is the empirical evidence needed to know whether there is a relationship between expectations of, and actual experiences, with police. What kind of data would you gather to answer to learn more about this?

Satiric Thunder: Prejudice and Masculinity

By Sally Raskoff

Is our culture changing how we define gender? Are our cultural standards about masculine and feminine easing a bit? 

There are many people who feel that gender equality has been achieved and that thus we have no need for an Equal Rights Amendment (ERA), no need for affirmative action based on gender, and no need to address educational or workplace discrimination. 

Gender – and our gender norms - are embedded in our society in many different ways, and are most visible in the media. Our most popular performers conform to the gender standards of the times. Most actors who get the lead roles and can “open” a movie do have distinct physical features that align with our standards of gender. (See an earlier post of mine for examples.) The popularity of some young male celebrities who are not typically masculine has had some suggesting that our traditional definitions of gender are eroding.

Does the popularity of Johnny Depp and Zac Efron, among others, suggest change in our norms of masculinity? Both of these men can be described not only as handsome but pretty. They both have been ascribed a type of feminine attractiveness as they are perhaps more androgynous than strictly masculine. (Androgynous combines the gender characteristics ascribed to both men – andro – and women – gyn.) 

Speaking of actors, I saw Tropic Thunder, Ben Stiller’s new film the other day. This film does much more than satirize Hollywood. Most of the press on this film  focuses on either the racial issues surrounding Robert Downey Jr.’s portrayal of “a dude, playing a dude, playing another dude” or on the treatment of people with mental challenges, who are referred to in the movie as “retards”.

My reaction to the film’s presentation of these two issues aligns with my opinion on the entire project. I think it is a brilliant satiric exploration of our society’s inability to really deal with issues of difference. While the focus on race and mental disabilities are obvious – and brilliantly written and acted – the movie also raise issues about masculinity and gender norms.

Take a look at one of the ads featuring Downey. The movie’s premise rests on a film company that is making a war film, so the actors are playing actors who are playing soldiers. War films are bastions of masculinity; in them, competition and power as primary tasks and goals. The fire and expression in this ad directly relate to the connection of masculinity with danger, aggressiveness and violence. Each of the actors plays a masculine stereotype and they are all involved in uber-masculine behaviors throughout the film.

I won’t spoil the film (too much anyway) by getting more specific about which scenes actively and directly satirize (and challenge) our culture’s masculine norms; I challenge you to watch the film and look at it with a gendered lens. 

In this film and in general, it is difficult to untangle racial issues from the gender issues since racial issues are easier for our culture to discuss. This doesn’t mean we solve problems with our public discussions, since prejudice has been covert rather than overt as it had been in the past. 

It is easier for many people, especially in sociology classes, to acknowledge how race and ethnicity are part of societal structure and much more difficult to understand gender as a socially constructed category. 

Before we start the celebrations for increasing equality, let’s ponder how people perceive Tropic Thunder. Are people getting that the film is a satire, an exploration and questioning of the complexities of race, ethnicity, and gender? The people complaining about the depiction and treatment of the mentally challenged are apparently not aware of the movie’s subtle (and not so subtle) satiric twist on how people – and Hollywood – treat that subject. 

How we perceive and interpret media depends upon our standpoint, our social position, our experiences, our backgrounds, and our interactions with other people. Would one’s perception of this film differ depending on one’s religious affiliation? Age? Sense of humor? Gender? Race/ethnicity? Social class? Sexual orientation? Drug history or experience? Critical thinking ability? Military connections? Mental capacity or connection to such issues? 

Tropic Thunder is doing very well at the box office, pushing the Dark Knight out of first place. It seems that a satire on race, gender, and many other things is more popular than a superhero film that reflects and reifies our gender norms. Is this good news?

The Politics of Double Minority Status

By Janis Prince Inniss

As the competition for the Democratic nomination seemed to wage on endlessly between Senators Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama, much was made of their historical bids to be the Democratic Party candidate for the White House: he as the first African American contender with a realistic chance to become President of the United States, and she as the first female in serious contention for that job. Each time I hear or read these descriptions, however, I think about who is missing in framing these firsts in this way.

Clinton herself pointed out these twin themes of “first woman” “first African American” in her concession speech: 

When we first started, people everywhere asked the same questions:

Could a woman really serve as Commander-in-Chief? Well, I think we answered that one.

And could an African American really be our President? Senator Obama has answered that one. ..

As the “woman candidate” Senator Clinton’s White House bid highlighted feminist themes and much was made in the news about her heavy support among women. Senator Clinton’s concession speech itself drew heavily on such themes; she thanked older female supporters who were born before women in the U.S. could vote and said:

(W)hen I was asked what it means to be a woman running for President, I always gave the same answer: that I was proud to be running as a woman but I was running because I thought I'd be the best President. But I am a woman, and like millions of women, I know there are still barriers and biases out there, often unconscious...Although we weren't able to shatter that highest, hardest glass ceiling this time, thanks to you, it's got about 18 million cracks in it.

Regarding the “first African American” angle of this saga, we saw headlines such as these: From ABC News, “Obama Becomes First Black Democratic Presidential Nominee”, and from the New York Times, “First Black Candidate to Lead a Major Party Ticket”. Senator Obama himself gave a speech on race that has been called “historic” in which he spoke of his racial heritage, addressed the brouhaha regarding his former pastor, and also about the complexity of race relations in the U.S.

What is concealed from the way these public discussions have been framed in describing how far we’ve come? The absence of those of double minority status— women “of color” is concealed by describing Senator Clinton as the “first woman” rather than “first white woman” and Senator Obama as the first African American as opposed to the first African American man. If the combined race and gender of the candidates were happenstance this would all be irrelevant, but is it?

Is it equally likely that the first African American presidential nominee would be a woman as it is a man? Sociologists who observe double minority status and its impact on women of color would predict that the first black candidate to reach such heights would be male. (I am differentiating between realistic versus symbolic presidential runs such as Shirley Chisholm’s in 1972; Chisholm made history by being the first African American to run for president of the U.S.; she won no primaries.) 

Almost three-quarters of all U.S. presidents were senators or governors before claiming the top prize: fifteen of the country’s 43 presidents were U.S. senators while sixteen parlayed being governor into being president. Because being senator or governor is a major pipeline to the presidency, I decided to have a look at how well African Americans and women are represented among these two groups. Currently, Barack Obama is the only African American senator and he is only the third African American to ever hold that position. (Carol Mosley Braun, the one woman in this exclusive circle announced her intention to seek the Democratic nomination for president in 2003, but dropped out even before the first major electoral event in that process.) 

How about governors? When disgraced New York governor Eliot Spitzer resigned, David Paterson became the nation’s fourth black governor; notably, only two (Douglas Wilder and Deval Patrick) of the four black governors were elected. So of the few African Americans in the presidential pipeline, only one, Mosley Braun, has been female. 

Is it by chance that the first woman who made it as far as Senator Clinton did in the U.S. presidential race was white? Women in many countries around the world have ascended to the top political ranks for many years (for example, Angela Merkel, Margaret Thatcher, Indira Ghandi, Eugenia Charles, Sirimavo Bandaranaike, and Portia Simpson-Miller), but we need to consider the context of race and gender in American politics. Again, looking at the presidential pipeline of senators and governors is instructive. Of 100 senators, sixteen are women and all of these women are white! There are currently eight female governors of the country’s fifty states and they too are white. 

According to the Census Bureau, the racial/ethnic makeup of the U.S. is as follows: 75.1 percent white, 12.3 percent African American/Black, 12.5 percent Hispanic or Latino, 3.6 percent Asian, 0.9 percent American Indian or Alaska Native, and 0.1 percent Native Hawaiian or other Pacific Islander. Clearly, the political offices examined here are in no way reflective of the racial make up of the country. Neither does the sex ratio explain any of this. For all of these groups, except for Hispanics, women outnumber men. 

The candidacies of senators Obama and Clinton do stand in contrast to the domination of white males in U.S. politics. However, there has been little public dissection of Obama’s gender or Clinton’s race, and this lack of analysis conceals the challenges double minorities, such as black women, face in American society.

Judging a Book by its Racial Cover

By Janis Prince Inniss

 On Easter Sunday, my husband and I took my mother to church in her neighborhood. (We live about 25 miles from her.) My rationale for this was to introduce Mum to a church, and perhaps to some church-goers, in her neighborhood; she only attends church when her visits with us include Sundays. As we headed into the church, I realized that we were the only ones doing so, which was odd especially on Easter. Undaunted, we  headed into the sanctuary, sat in the back and happily joined in the singing of one of my favorite hymns.

As I looked around the church, I was reminded that it serves a largely white congregation. I had attended a few services at this church when we first moved to this city but had not returned once we moved out of that general area. As I sang, I noticed a black man in a suit standing next to the white minister in his robe at the front of the church. Given the racial makeup of the church, and because the black man seemed to be assisting with the service in some way since he was up front, he was noteworthy. To my dismay, when we finished that wonderful hymn, the service was over! 

Down the aisle came the procession of church officials, followed by the congregation. We had traveled that distance for less than one whole hymn! Somewhere between annoyance and amusement, I stumbled back outside with my family. As we stood outside the church trying to figure out what had happened, my husband said that the black man had given him a note that read, “Follow me to the auditorium.” Who was that man? And why were we to follow him? 

We followed the man and found ourselves in the building next door to the main sanctuary where the service was about to begin. We found seats and I noticed that the man who had directed us to this service seemed to be taking part in the proceedings once again. I guessed he was there in his supporting role once more and that the white man I saw on stage was the minister. 

Turns out I had the roles completely reversed. The black man was in charge of this service; he preached a wonderful sermon. Ah, so he must assist with the traditional service and preach at the contemporary service. During the service a few people mentioned Dr. Smith (not his real name of course), pastor of the church, and I wondered whether we had seen him in the few minutes at the earlier service. 

Service over, I asked someone about arranging transportation to the church for Mum. She directed me to Dr. Smith. I explained that I did not know him so she showed me to his office. To my surprise the black man in the suit was Dr. Smith, senior church pastor! I was stunned! My assumptions about Dr. Smith were based on his being a black man at a church with a mostly white, affluent congregation; they were also shaped by the fact that I have never been a member of a church with a black pastor in America. In fact, I can count on one hand the number of times I have heard sermons delivered by black pastors in the U.S. This is because I have never been a regular attendee of black church denominations or black churches that fit under white denominations, so my churches have been predominantly white. 

This Easter Sunday experience was a great lesson in how prejudice works: Using the information we have, based on our often narrow personal experiences, we decide where someone fits in the world. Those prejudices may take the form of race, class, gender, sexual orientation or any other lens that we choose to wear. Also, context matters. Had Dr. Smith been wearing a robe instead of a suit, I would probably have made the same assumptions, especially because I also saw a white pastor at the church. But, had I seen Dr. Smith on campus, dressed as he was, I would probably have assumed he was on the university faculty.

I know that black men occupy all spheres of life. I’m from a large family filled with black men (and women) who have attained the highest professional levels. I am married to a black man who defies just about every stereotype of the African American male. I am a black woman. I am a sociologist who writes about race, ethnicity and culture. And yet, there I was unable to guess that I was looking at the pastor of that church!

Have you had a similar experience? How have you prejudged someone or a situation based on information about their race, class or maybe their gender? Tell us about it.

Colorblindness and the Martin Luther King Jr. Statue

By C.N. Le

You might remember my previous post that described criticisms over the upcoming Martin Luther King Jr. memorial statue in Washington DC. That initial controversy centered on the fact that the sculptor was not African American, or even American -- he was Chinese. Critics charged that King's legacy was being "outsourced" to China.

Well, a new and different controversy about the statue has emerged -- as MSNBC reports, the federal commission that has final approval over the statue now wants the form of the statue changed: the current pose appears too "confrontational" and "totalitarian":

The U.S. Commission of Fine Arts thinks "the colossal scale and Social Realist style of the proposed statue recalls a genre of political sculpture that has recently been pulled down in other countries," commission secretary Thomas Luebke said in a letter in April. . . .

The centerpiece is to be a 2 1/2 -story sculpture of the civil rights leader carved in a giant chunk of granite. Called the Stone of Hope, it would depict King, standing with his arms folded, looming from the stone. At 28 feet tall, it would be eight feet taller than the statue of Abraham Lincoln in the Lincoln Memorial. . . .

Its general design was approved by the seven-member federal commission that year, based on drawings of the Stone of Hope that showed a more subtle image of King, from the waist up, as if he were emerging organically out of the rock, the commission said. . . .

The team wants to hold on "to the power and inspirational image" of the current version, [the memorial's executive architect] said. The sense of confrontation in the sculpture is not a coincidence. "We see him . . . as a warrior," Chaffers said yesterday. 

"We see him as a warrior for peace . . . not as some pacifist, placid, kind of vanilla, but really a man of great conviction and strength."

It should come as no surprise that such national memorials are inherently prone to historical, cultural, and political disagreements and controversy. We only have to remember the initial storm of criticism surrounding Maya Lin's design of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial.

In my previous post, I included a picture of the current sculpture. In my opinion, King’s pose in the statue is certainly serious rather than playful. And it is probably true that a lot of statues of totalitarian leaders through the years also strike a "serious" pose. But for me, that is where the similarities end. Dr. King's pose is a reflection of his legacy -- one of the most inspiring and important leaders in modern American history.

As such, I think it is more than appropriate that his pose symbolize the significance and weight of his accomplishments and the entire Civil Rights Movement. Isn't that one of the main reasons to create this memorial in the first place?

I see this latest controversy about Dr. King’s “warrior” pose as another example of a 21st century American society that is trying to be “colorblind.” As I recently wrote, the dominant discourse in American race relations these days seems to stress the virtues of a "colorblind" Society.

In theory, it's great to not treat people differently based on their racial/ethnic identity. But in practice, ignoring people's racial identity means ignoring their different histories, characteristics, and community needs and instead, relying on the simplistic idea that we now live in a true meritocracy where racism no longer exists and everyone is on a completely level playing field. 

In that context, I am not surprised that the federal commission (perhaps composed predominantly of whites?) found the current pose too "confrontational." Apparently, they do not want the statue to remind people that the Civil Rights Movement was a struggle and that many people actually died in the process of "confronting" racism.

They would rather pretend that everything is perfectly fine now and that as a "colorblind" society, we don't need to dwell on the past and be reminded that a little over 40 years ago, it was perfectly legal and normal to treat people of color as inferior, subordinate, second-class citizens.

In other words, the commission’s desire that Dr. King's statue look less "confrontational," reflects a desire to avoid confronting the racism that Dr. King fought against and that still subtly pervades the mind set of American society today.

Like I said, that is what it means to be colorblind these days.

Global Poverty for Sale

By Karen Sternheimer

Do you ever get unsolicited catalogs in the mail? I occasionally get them from “upscale” stores featuring high-priced designer brands.  This makes me laugh because I am an outlet mall shopper at heart, and the thought of spending thousands for a dress or a pair of shoes or a handbag never crosses my mind. I suspect that since many affluent people live in my zip code I am mistaken for one of “them.” 

 

These catalogs usually go right into the recycling bin, but occasionally I give them a look for a good mock now and then. A recent catalog seemed ripe for a laugh, with its extra-thick paper attempting to lure me to shop at South Coast Plaza, the largest mall in Orange County, California, which according to Mapquest is exactly 53.15 miles from my home (for point of reference, Rodeo Drive is less than ten miles away, so if I wanted to spend ridiculous amounts of money I could do so much closer to home). 

 

But leafing through the catalog was not so funny. The high-fashion shots featured models in their over-priced designer clothes against the backdrop of global poverty. The motorcycle pictured on the left features a license plate that reveals that the shoot took place in the Dominican Republic, a Caribbean island where approximately thirty percent of the population lives in poverty. In 2000, their per capita income was about $2,326.

 

But poverty is apparently chic, at least when it can add some element of authenticity to the new spring fashion line. As you can see from the ad copy on the right, words like “exotic,” “primitive” and “tribal colors” provide “inspiration” for “new designs.”

 

Yes, infant mortality rates in the Dominican are 47 per 1,000 live births, more than seven times the U.S. rate of 6.3 per 1,000, and 2.5 percent of the adult population is HIV positive, but they provide us with “simple shapes” and “vivid scenery.”

 

I found this ad for the green Dolce & Gabbana dress particularly interesting. The dress is nice, but the background is what is really interesting: the crumbling shack to the left and people adding “local color” in the far right. While I could not find the price for this particular dress, D & G dresses typically range from $1,500-$2,800 each. In other words, just about the annual income of an average Dominican.

 

The Quiksilver ad on the right offers a more up-close view of the “vivid scenery.” Here we have decidedly unhappy locals leaning against a house resting on crumbling concrete. Note that only the white model smiles. While his outfit probably cost under $150, much less than the D & G dress, his casual attire contrasts with the shabbier clothes of the others in the picture, particularly the boy with holes in his rolled-up jeans.

 

In these photos, the people of the Dominican Republic are mere props. Adding to a backdrop of what the ad describes as “exotic,” is the man riding a donkey pulling a cart on the left, and the young boys staring at the model on the right as she poses. 

 

Both of the women’s poses are interesting in light of the persistence of the global sex trade in developing nations. According to a 1997 Miami Herald article, prostitution is a particularly bad problem in the Dominican, with its high poverty rate and increase in international tourism. The majority of women working as prostitutes are mothers trying to support their children; and as with other poor countries, children themselves often end up ensnared in global sex tourism.

 

Yet the images of children in the ads are highly sentimental, enabling us to overlook some of the serious challenges children in “exotic places” confront. In the Dominican Republic, school children must wear uniforms, like the kids in these pictures, although no funding is provided for them. The girls in the ad on the right in the front are dressed in the American store’s clothes, in contrast with their uniformed peers. All stand in rubble but appear happy.

 

The white model to the left, posed as “teacher,” appears pregnant herself, and it is interesting to think about the different life chances that child likely will have compared with children in developing countries. Adding to the “local color,” the book she holds “Incas, Mayas, y Aztecas,” recalls other colonized peoples in a crumbling classroom.

 

Finally, nature itself becomes commodified in these ads. This Jimmy Choo handbag, pictured with a hay-thatched hut in the background, retails for $3,050, more than the average annual income of a Dominican citizen. 

 

And this necklace pictured on the right turns being green on its head. While the ad copy shown above details the “vivid scenery” and “colors inspired by nature,” this picture seems to suggest that nature itself needs adornment.

 

Advertising may not make us more likely to buy any of this stuff, but it is loaded with interesting sociological components. Here we see issues of the environment, race, socioeconomic status, and globalization embedded into a series of ads. They (probably unintentionally) help us see some of the contrasts between the materialism of the wealthy in industrialized nations and the extreme poor of developing countries. What do you see?

Racial Tensions and Living In a Colorblind Society

By C.N. Le

In many ways, Asian Americans have achieved notable levels of socioeconomic mobility and success in American society. Nonetheless, despite (or perhaps because of) these successes, Asian Americans still confront ongoing instances of hostility, exclusion, and discrimination.

I've previously written about how Asian American students continue to face various obstacles in being treated fairly and justly on college campuses, whether it relates to dealing offensive "satire" or being violently attacked.

Some might be tempted to say that these were isolated incidents but as New American Media summarizes, these kinds of incidents are actually quite commonplace on college campuses around the country:

In recent months, incidents have proven this is not the tolerant and highly-evolved society we thought. Hate crimes against Asian students, racial remarks masked under the term “satire,” and institutional discrimination — are just a few causes triggering racial tension on college campuses. . . .

On Jan. 21, Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, Kyle Descher, a Korean American, headed out to a bar with his roommate after a Washington State University football victory over Oregon. Minutes after hearing a racial slur from one of three unknown men, Descher is “sucker-punched” in an unprovoked attack. Doctors add three titanium plates to Descher’s broken jaw and it’s wired shut. . . .

In [UPenn's quarterly student magazine "The Punch Bowl" winter 2008 edition's] “Where Asians Don’t Belong” section, staffers listed Math 104, in a panties drawer, on the basketball court, at a frat party, and behind the wheel. Imagine why the staff didn’t make jokes with the same glee for all the places African Americans “don’t belong.” In their defense, “Punch Bowl” editors said some of the writers of the “satirical” issue were Asian Americans themselves, even posing in photos poking fun at APIs.

The article goes on to list several other racially-charged incidents around the country involving a broad range of groups of color. 

It would be great if I could just focus on discussing the positive aspects of how American institutions such as higher education have made progress in alleviating racial inequality. Alas, these incidents only highlight what many scholars have been saying all along -- as we move forward into the 21st century, racism and racial prejudice are still alive and well in American society.

One difference between its nature today versus that of one hundred years ago is that in many ways, racism is now expressed in "colorblind" terms. That is, racists now apparently think that racial equality has been achieved (they'll point to Asian American socioeconomic achievements as one example), so it's perfectly fine to make fun of Asian Americans and other groups because we're all equal now -- we're all on a level playing field nowadays, so everybody is fair game.

In other words, this is what it means to live in a colorblind society these days-- historical legacies of systematic racism are completely ignored or "whitewashed" and we all pretend that all racial groups are perfectly equal. Or alternatively, racists act on their resentment that minorities have apparently achieved "equality" and physically attack those minorities. 

Unfortunately, I predict that this climate of "colorblind" prejudice will get worse before it gets better, especially as globalization continues to reshape the American society, the American economy, and as a result, the assumption of American superiority around the world.

As Americans, particularly many white Americans, continue to economically struggle as we enter a recession, and as demographic and cultural shifts take place all around them, their fears, frustrations, and anger will inevitably boil over. It’s likely that verbal and physical attacks on convenient scapegoats such as Asian Americans will continue.

I want to be optimistic and hopefully I'm wrong, but as these recent incidents show, racial tensions seem to be on the rise, not on the decline.

Racism as a Risk Factor for Infant Mortality

By Janis Prince Inniss

One segment of the PBS documentary Unnatural Causes: Is Inequality Making Us Sick? examined infant mortality in the U.S. Infant mortality is a measure of the number of babies who die in their first year of life, a figure expressed as a portion of 1,000 live births. 

What causes babies to die so early? Congenital abnormalities, being born too early and too small, and Sudden Infant Death Syndrome (SIDS), are the leading causes of infant death. According to the Central Intelligence Agency World Factbook’s 2007 estimate, the infant mortality rate in the U.S. is 6.37; according to this report 41 countries reported better rates than the U.S. 

In fact, according to the State of the World's Mothers report, the U.S. has the second worst infant mortality rate in the developed world! Although there may be many good reasons for the rates of other countries to appear better than they really are, a few things are clear about the U.S. rate. 

First, the infant mortality rate has decreased significantly over the last four or so decades; it was 26.0 in 1960. Second, among all women in the U.S., African American women have the highest infant mortality rate. Third, infant mortality rates for African Americans are almost two and a half times that of whites (13.6 compared to 5.6). 

If you’re familiar with the relationship between class and race, this disparity in infant mortality might not be particularly surprising. It might make sense that African Americans would experience higher infant mortality rates as result of factors related to their lower socioeconomic status (SES); for example, low-income pregnant women might not seek prenatal care due to a lack of health insurance and tight finances. However, research on the topic finds that increases in SES and education do not erase this racial gap. As you will see in the video, infant mortality rates for white college graduates is 3.7 per 1,000 while that for black college graduates is three times as high (10.2 per 1,000). Infant mortality rates for black college graduates are on par with that of whites without a high school education—who have a rate of 9.9 per 1,000. 

Another hypothesis put forward to explain the differential infant mortality rates is a possible genetic component responsible for the disparity. Researchers reasoned that looking at the infant mortality rates of other black women should confirm such a “prematurity gene”. Yet, black women from Africa and the Caribbean do have not have the same kinds of infant mortality rates as African-American women; African women have infant mortality rates similar to that of white American women and babies born to Caribbean women are heavier at birth than those of African-American women. 

Further, after one generation of living in the U.S. these immigrant groups have infant mortality rates similar to that of African Americans, suggesting that there is something about the black American experience that leads to poor infant mortality. Hmm.

But how could race impact infant mortality? In a word, racism. Researchers have found that women who perceive racial prejudice are two times more likely to have a very low birth weight baby. Social scientists are now examining the relationship between the stress that racial prejudice produces and its adverse impact on the body; such stress may cause the release of stress hormones that trigger labor, for example. Watch Drs. Lu and Jones discuss the life course perspective and the impact of this kind of stress over a lifetime:

In a number of previous posts, I have discussed issues related to race, ethnicity, culture and related concepts. Perhaps like you, readers have questioned whether race is even relevant in today’s multiracial, multiethnic world. More than forty years have passed since the Civil Rights Act of 1964 barred segregation in public places in the U.S. So racial prejudice is history! But is it really? 

Most young Americans grew up before the passage of this act. Many of your parents, professors, ministers, and doctors, can tell personal stories of what life was like before the passage of that legislation. History doesn’t seem so ancient then. And what are the present day remnants of racial prejudice? Is that history too? Just as we may begin to feel comfortable that race and related concepts are simply well, historical concepts, the findings surrounding infant mortality suggest remind us that while we may argue about definitions and the utility of these ideas, people’s experiences demonstrate that none of this is simply academic flexing. Racism and its perception impacts lives, including—perhaps most especially—the smallest lives among us.

Everyday Sociology Talk: Race, Religion, and Politics

Karen Sternheimer and Sally Raskoff discuss sociological approaches to understanding the varied reactions to Reverend Jeremiah Wright's comments.

Black Ethnicity: The Foreign-Born in America

By Janis Prince Inniss 

Recently I completed an online form that asked for my race. Not that unusual. What was unusual is that there were 15 choices! Among other options, I could choose from: 

 

Black-African	Black-West Indian
Black- African American	Black-Tanzanian
Black-Jamaican	Black-Haitian
Black-Caribbean	Black-Nigerian

And so on…You get the idea. There is much that is note-worthy about this list, but I will focus on one aspect of it: The list was made long mostly by the writer’s wish to accommodate a variety of foreign-born blacks. 

What does the term foreign-born mean? The U. S. Census Bureau definition of the foreign born includes all people residing in the U.S. who are not American citizens at birth, immigrants, legal non-immigrants (such as refugees and students), and people who are living in the U.S. illegally. According to the U.S. Census Bureau, the largest number of foreign-born persons living the U.S. in the first half of the 20^th century was 14.2 million in 1930 (11.6 percent of the total population at that time), although the largest proportion of this group was 14.7 million in 1910. The last 30 years or so have been marked by increasing numbers and proportions of foreign-born persons in the U.S; in 2000, there were 28.4 million foreign-born people estimated to be living in the U.S. This figure is exactly twice as many as the previous high period in 1930, and this time the foreign-born were estimated to be 10.4 percent of the total population—the highest proportion since 1930. 

Of course, the U.S. is not the only country hosting immigrants. We live in a world of tremendous movement. According to the New York Times, in 2005 about 190 million people lived outside of their countries of birth. 

Among the millions of foreign-borns living in the U.S. are black people from all over the world. In fact, the proportion of foreign-born blacks among blacks in the U.S. has risen to 7.8 percent from 1.3 percent between 1970 and 2000. Black immigrants come from all over the world, but are primary from the Caribbean and Africa. Haiti, Jamaica, and the Dominican Republic are the top three sending countries of blacks to the U.S. And where do the foreign-born tend to live? New York, New Jersey, Texas, Florida, California and Illinois host most of the foreign-born population in general, and this is true for the black foreign-born population as well. Florida has experienced the most growth in the number of foreign-born blacks in the last 30 years, although with a quarter of its black population being foreign-born, New York is now home to the largest share of this group. 

To state what is not always obvious: All black people in America are not African Americans. Some have become American citizens, and others have not. Black immigrants do not necessarily see themselves as having much in common with African Americans, and vice versa. They may have grown up in widely differing circumstances—so called third world versus North American countries and all their attendant disparities—so why would we expect them to be the same? Given that Americans of different races often find themselves focused on their differences despite their many similarities, why would a group of newly (or even not so newly) arrived immigrants be assumed to share much with African Americans? 

This discussion is not meant to ignore the fact that on American soil, with regard to race, and regardless of place of birth, blacks may encounter identical experiences. I recognize there may be no difference in the ways that people with dark skin are perceived or treated. Similarly, the reference to recent historical differences between African American and foreign-born blacks is neither meant to diminish our shared African origins nor the overlap in current socio-political concerns. 

A recent study found that for blacks, having foreign-born parents is related to attending selective colleges and universities. Based on data from 28 such institutions, researchers found that 27 percent of blacks students had at least one foreign-born parent—a significantly higher percentage than the national average. As we might imagine given the data presented earlier on the origins of the black foreign-born, this study found that 43 percent of these students had Caribbean roots and 29 percents were of African parentage. Many of us –including sociologists—focus on the race of blacks to the exclusion of ethnicity among blacks. With the naming of all immigrants of African descent, “black/African American”, our ethnicity becomes subsumed beneath our race, propelling race to dominant status. 

Findings such as these highlight the role of ethnicity in all its complexity and serve as a reminder that race is not all that matters.

Globalization and Higher Education

By C.N. Le

Sociologists and other scholars around the world are increasingly talking about how the world in general and American society in particular is becoming increasingly globalized. But to many students, these concepts are rather vague and abstract. With that in mind, I'd like to use two examples that relate to my areas of specialization -- Asian/Asian American culture and higher education -- to illustrate how globalization works in our society these days.

The first example concerns a Chinese-born immigrant who was educated in the U.S., became infatuated with American culture, then went back to China to start an American-style college for Chinese students:

The school has more than 16,000 students and nearly 50 buildings -- including a Roman amphitheater, French and Italian restaurants and an administration hall with a domed Capitol-like facade on one side and a Forbidden City tableau on the other. A swimming stadium, with an Olympic-size pool, is rising amid lotus and wheat fields.

The school's faculty of about 700 includes 119 foreign instructors, mainly from the U.S. They teach English, history and literature and help students with debate club, cheerleading and marching band -- things unheard of in this country. 

[Shawn] Chen went to the United States in 1985 and got a master's degree in education at Linfield College in Oregon. After attending a typical no-frills, monochrome college in China, he basked in campus life in the Pacific Northwest. . . . Chen was so taken by American culture he named his children Brandon and Brenda, after the two characters in the early 1990s TV hit "Beverly Hills, 90210."

In illustrating one example of globalization, this story is a great example of the kind of new Asian American identity that I've been doing more research on -- Asian Americans using their cross-national cultural ties to achieve success for both sides of their identity -- Asia and America. In the process their "foreignness" is an asset, rather than a liability.

The second example also involves Asian Americans, higher education, and international migration -- but in the opposite direction. We know that the competition to get into the top colleges and universities is quite intense these days. With that in mind, many Korean American students have decided to skip the U.S. entirely and instead, attend top universities in South Korea. 

A year ago, 19-year-old Korean-American Choi Joo-eun chose Korea's Yonsei University over the prestigious University of California system in her home state. Having gotten into both UC San Diego and UC Irvine, she had earned a place in two schools even many California teenagers dream of entering.

So far she has no regrets. On campus, she takes classes taught entirely in English while spending her spare time learning Korean culture and language. Off campus, Choi, who had never visited Korea before deciding to study here, keeps busy building a new network of friends and pursuing her dream of working for the United Nations one day. 

While it is well known that many Koreans opt out of the highly competitive race to get into a top local university like Yonsei for an American university, an increasing number of Korean-Americans and overseas-educated Koreans are heading in the opposite direction.

Still, regardless of Korea being the land of their parents, it is far from home, and the students have to overcome their share of hardship and difficulties in adjusting to a new country and culture.

The article highlights the many advantages associated with such a process -- reconnecting with one's ancestral ethnic roots, exposure to an international climate, and becoming bilingual in English and Korean. But as the last line of the quote above reveals, there can also be loneliness and cultural adjustment issues for those studying overseas.

This particular trend of Korean Americans "going back" to Korean schools is likely to accelerate in the coming years, as globalization continues to evolve and permeate more of American society.

But as the article points out, being Korean American does not automatically mean that you will have an easy time in Korea; being Asian and Asian American are two different things.

Nonetheless, being Korean American does provide another avenue of personal and academic enrichment, and that can be seen as an asset rather than a liability as we move forward into the 21st century.

"Passing" into Freedom: Being Black and Living White

By Janis Prince Inniss

Do you know the race of everyone in your family? Of your friends? Your colleagues? Odd questions if race is as obvious as we usually think it is. “She’s black.” “He’s white.” “They’re Hispanic.” No confusion there. What about the man and his daughter pictured below? What race are they?

Anatole Broyard was a literary critic and editor of the New York Times. He died in 1990 at age 70, and was survived by his wife and two children. Nothing unusual so far, right?

What is remarkable, however, is the fact that only a few weeks before his death, his adult children learned that Broyard was “part black”. Based on his daughter Bliss’s research, it appears that Broyard made the choice to be white when he sought a Social Security card in 1938.

In that same year, Broyard’s sister had sought employment at the state office and was told that there were no jobs for “colored girls”. For most of his adult life, Broyard had minimal contact with his mother and two sisters who all lived as black, although his wife and a few friends knew of his “secret.”

How is it possible to interact with someone and not know their race when we live in a racialized society? Like his parents, Broyard was light-skinned and this allowed him to “pass” as white—that is, pretend not to have a drop of black blood. The consequences of being black at that time could be dire; surely the limitations and other costs associated with being black served as the impetus for Broyard’s decision to “pass” as a white man.

Reading Broyard’s obituary in the Times, I was struck by the lack of reference to race in the description of the man, his family and his work. He was not described as a “black writer,” or the as first black editor or any other historic firsts that he likely accomplished. The obituary told of a man, born here, schooled there, who wrote this and that. It struck me that being black would have shackled Broyard and limited the images I conjured of him as I read his story; it would—perhaps to lesser degrees over time—define him as well as my impression of who he was.

When I initially wrote the paragraph above, I wrote, “his race would have shackled Broyard…”In fact, in the U.S. it is not any race that would prescribe, for example, the topics with which he would be expected to be conversant; it was being black that would be so conscribing; hence his concealment of his black heritage. 

But what of whiteness? That too is a race. White people are not devoid of race, although Broyard’s story reminds us of the freedoms that whiteness facilitates: freedom to live where one wants, to write about what one wants, freedom from feeling (negatively) “raced”. In the 70 years since Broyard made the decision to “pass,” more of these freedoms have become commonplace for all who live in the U.S., regardless of race. Still, as you watch the news on television or read newspapers, contrast how often the race of racial/ethnic minorities is mentioned compared to that of whites.

What images come to mind when you hear racial descriptors? Is your response the same regardless of whether stories reference your own or a different group? If Broyard had been thought of as black, (since that would have to be his racial designation in a “one-drop” system), that designation would have conveyed something that he probably did not want people to think about. Racism creates limits; and without a negatively “raced” label, Broyard had more life options. 

There are many who would see Broyard’s choice as self-hatred, an example of internalized racism. Further his choice to “pass” may be viewed as turning his back on his (black) race when—particularly given his stature at the New York Times—he could have served to help African Americans, by serving as a refutation of stereotypes and by being a role-model. Is this a burden or is it a duty that all racial minorities ought to carry? 

While we usually think of race as a biological imperative, stories such as Broyard’s highlight the socially constructed nature of the beast: race is also how we live: Broyard looked white, had a white wife and white children, lived in white communities, had a white occupation (that of writer, not a black writer), and was therefore white. His being white was less related to his DNA than to the life he led.

It’s arguable that the historical facts that made passing desirable for Anatole Broyard have been transformed at least somewhat over the past fifty years; but are there incentives for any racial minorities to ”pass” as white in America today?

Barack Obama and Racial/Ethnic Authenticity

By Janis Prince Inniss

In a speech many hailed as historic for its frank discussion of race in America, Barack Obama, Democratic contender for the presidential nomination, said: “At various stages in the campaign, some commentators have deemed me either ‘too black’ or ‘not black enough’." 

What does it mean to be considered “too black” or “not black enough”? And who decides the answers to these questions? In a previous post, I discussed the challenges biracial people such as Sen. Obama (son of a black Kenyan father and white mother from Kansas) pose to our understanding of race, so I won’t touch on that issue here. Given the Senator’s racial self identification as African American, however, who authenticates his blackness? Is there a Department of Black Authenticity (DBA) whose job it is to stamp him or anyone else “unequivocally black” or maybe “just right”? Do some black aspirants get notification that they are “not black enough” or indeed “too black”? As I imagine such deliberations, I can’t help but wonder whether the head of the DBA would make those decisions or whether there would have to be group consensus.

What does it mean when someone is described as “not black enough”? Likely, you have heard tales of African Americans (particularly males) who “dumb down”: They make a conscious effort to do poorly in school so as not to be seen as “acting white”. In other words they will never be described by those apparently dreaded words “not black enough”; this construction of blackness emphasizes ignorance. Describing the other Democratic candidates as he was announcing his own presidential bid, Sen. Joe Biden described Sen. Obama as “the first mainstream African-American who is articulate and bright and clean and a nice-looking guy." 

I’ll avoid dissecting Sen. Biden’s words here except to make one point—that Sen. Biden seemed to be voicing what he and many others perceive as differences between Sen. Obama and many African Americans, and between this candidate and previous African American candidates. Many of these differences—his parentage chief among them—have caused even some African Americans to say that Sen. Obama is “not black enough”. 

In a 1998 New Yorker article, writer Toni Morrison provides an interesting description of what constitutes blackness. Morrison described Former President Clinton as America’s first black president because “Clinton displays almost every trope of blackness: single-parent household, born poor, working-class, saxophone-playing, McDonald’s-and-junk-food-loving boy from Arkansas.” (I reserve commentary on issues related to the conflation of blackness with being African American—as opposed to being African, for example—for another blog.) Morrison acknowledges the over-representation of African Americans among “the truly disadvantaged”, and also makes reference to the cultural orientation and "style" associated with blackness, at least in America anyway. 

In an essay entitled “Free at Last? A Personal Perspective on Race and Ethnicity”, Glenn C. Loury recounts the tale of how, for fear of being seen as an “Uncle Tom”, he betrayed his friend Woody by failing to vouch for Woody as a “brother” at a black political rally. (Woody was so light-skinned that he could “pass”, but self identified as black.) This is another dimension of being viewed as “not black enough”—the extent to which blacks are friends with, or married to, non-blacks. Another marker of this tag is being Republican. Since the civil rights era, African Americans have historically supported the Democratic party; African Americans such as Secretary of State Dr. Condoleezza Rice are consistently derided for having political ideologies that brand them “not black enough”. 

What constitutes being “too black”? Is being associated with anything or anyone strongly associated with notions of black exclusivity “too black”? One major aspect of the firestorm regarding Sen. Obama and his former pastor, Rev. Wright is the fact that the pastor has operated from an Afrocentric focus. This makes the Rev. Wright, and by extension Sen. Obama, “too black” for some.

Policing blackness includes scrutiny of food, film, music, clothing and other preferences. The scrutiny also extends to pastimes, the way we talk, our places of residence, the way we wear our hair (mainly for women), and this is not an all encompassing list. As Loury describes, the impact of having his authenticity policed had a profound impact on many aspects of his life:

I now understand how this desire to be regarded as genuinely black, to be seen as a “regular brother,” has dramatically altered my life. It narrowed the range of my earliest intellectual pursuits, distorted my relationships with other people, censored my political thought and expression, informed the way I dressed and spoke, and shaped my cultural interests…I have learned that one does not have to live surreptitiously as a Negro among whites in order to be engaged in a denial of one’s genuine self for the sake of gaining social acceptance. This is a price that blacks often demand of each other as well.

It is ironic that as much we think of race as fixed and real, questioning African American authenticity points to the socially constructed nature of the concept, given how easily racial authenticity can be challenged. This is also another example of how race and ethnicity are used interchangeably: use of this authenticity yardstick belies the fact that there are different constructions of blackness in other parts of the world; this yardstick is really an African American one.

Why do you think there are questions about black authenticity in the U.S.? Is there a fear related to keeping people in or might it have to do with keeping “impostors” out? How similar or different are these issues for other racial and ethnic groups in the U.S.? As for whether Sen. Obama is “too black”, “not black enough”, or “just right,” I think the fact that the question is even being asked is revealing.

Racism in Toyland

By Karen Sternheimer

You have probably heard critics of Barbie decry the unrealistic beauty image the toy reflects. I’m guessing you may have already thought about the way that children’s toys promote somewhat rigid gender identities. But have you ever thought about how toys reflect racial inequality?

During the holiday shopping season, a friend of mine went to buy a doll for her daughter. She had a coupon for a specific doll from the  newspaper circular, and she was excited because she knew that particular doll also came in a black version. Since her daughter is multiracial, she likes her to have dolls of many hues to play with.

But when she went to check out, she was told that the coupon was only valid on the white doll.

Now there might be marketing reasons that the coupon could only work with the white doll; the UPC code might have been different on the black doll. Maybe they had an abundance of white dolls that the store was looking to move off of the shelves. Since the manufacturer probably produces so many more white versions of the doll and the retailer also probably buys a whole lot more of the white ones, it makes sense from a business perspective that one version would be cheaper to clear inventory. Ultimately, the store manager refused to honor the coupon (which did not say was for white dolls only).

But from a sociological standpoint, the price difference is a surcharge for black dolls which could work to deter customers from buying one. According to the U.S. Census, the median household income for African Americans is approximately 61% of white, non-Hispanic households. This income disparity makes it even more of a burden to pay more for essentially the same doll. 

Since the middle of the last century, toy manufacturers have come a long way. Dora the Explorer is an extremely popular Latina television character (with requisite doll and other toys). Fisher Price's Little People toys also feature children clearly from multiple ethnic groups. American Girl dolls are mostly white, but their Mexican American, Native American and African American dolls aren’t segregated on their homepage, as they are on www.toysrus.com. If you visit this site and click on dolls, they have many categories to choose from, including "ethnic dolls". Even many of those dolls appear to be white or very light skinned. 

This separate category literally segregates dolls of color…except most of these dolls at best look like white people with deep tans. Of those slightly darker in color, they often have Caucasian-like hair and even blue eyes. 

There’s another curious thing about the “ethnic” category: it presumes that “ethnic” only refers to people who are not white in appearance. The other dolls are just dolls.

This designation reflects the way in which people classified as “white” today are often viewed as “non-ethnic,” when by definition everyone has an ethnicity. As Janis Prince Inniss previously blogged about, ethnicity refers to cultural practices, custom, language, and ancestry. It is not insignificant that some groups become seen as “normal” and others “ethnic”. And it is not insignificant that dolls reflect this inequality.

You might be familiar with a famous experiment from 1954, where a psychologist found that black girls chose white dolls more often than black dolls. This study influenced the Supreme Court’s landmark Brown v. Board of Education decision that same year, as the high court interpreted this experiment to mean that these children had internalized racism, and that segregation’s psychological effects needed to be reversed.

A high school student replicated this experiment with 21 girls in New York in 2005 and found similar results, which received national attention. 

Certainly self-esteem issues are important. But we often overlook the role the toy industry plays in shaping which dolls seem “better” to children of all racial/ethnic backgrounds. It is obviously not enough just to have “ethnic” dolls available (albeit this is a major step forward from the 1954 experiment when likely very few were widely available).

When dolls are segregated in the stores or are simply colored-in versions of other dolls, it sends a message that they are less desirable. In one store my friend visited, she saw no non-white dolls and asked whether they carried any. The clerk told her that they had black Cabbage Patch dolls, but they were in the storeroom and that she would gladly go to get her one. 

While it would be illegal to require a black person to eat their lunch only in a restaurant’s kitchen or sit on the back of the bus today, it isn’t illegal to segregate dolls. But it does communicate their inferior status.

Sociologist Christine L. Williams conducted ethnographic research in toy stores, which she describes in her book Inside Toyland: Working, Shopping, and Social Inequality. Williams worked as a clerk and was able to interact with both shoppers and store management. 

She notes that in the big box store where she worked, black children (and often their families) were frequently considered shoplifters, particularly if staff members (of all races) thought they appeared to be low-income. When they entered toy stores, they were clearly less-than welcome. In contrast, rules were often bent for white middle class female shoppers and clerks were expected to provide them with a significant level of service.

Williams noticed that African American shoppers were given less attention than white shoppers. If they got angry they were not appeased by staff, as their white counterparts often were, but instead might be told to leave the store. In some cases the police were even called.

Toys are social manifestations of many things: they represent collective (although contested) ideas of how children should play; their presentation and marketing reflects notions of value, and their purchase reflects and reinforces inequality.

Celebrating St. Patrick's Day: Symbolic Ethnicity

By Janis Prince Inniss

I’m seeing green! St. Patrick’s green, that is. Everywhere. At the grocery store. At Wal-Mart. At the mall. At my gym. Surely you’ve seen the decorations and a variety of green products such as carnations, bagels, greeting cards, frosted cupcakes, and in Chicago the even the Chicago River!

My introduction to St. Paddy’s day came when I lived in New York City; fitting because New York is home to the first of these parades anywhere, and hosts the largest Irish parade with up to 3 million onlookers. Irish soldiers began the parade in New York in 1762 and it has grown to include more than 150,000 people from a variety of Irish organizations. It is the largest parade in New York, even bigger than the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade. 

Is there a parade in your city? Chicago, Boston, and Savannah, along with a variety of other cities around the world have St. Patrick’s Day parades. In the U.S. St. Patrick’s Day is a religious holiday celebrated for centuries by the Irish on March 17^th during Lent. Although the details about his early life differ, Patrick is said   to have died on March 17, 460 A.D., and most scholars agree that he introduced Christianity to Ireland. Traditionally, Irish families’ St. Patrick Day’s celebration involved attending church in the morning and then—with the restriction against eating meat lifted for the occasion—feast on bacon and cabbage in the evening. The focus on St. Patrick’s Day as a religious holiday in Ireland has remained that way until recently; it was only in the 1970s that pubs were allowed to remain open on this day.

Why do Irish Americans celebrate St. Patrick’s Day? This celebration is an example of symbolic ethnicity, characterized by a need to hold on to the culture of the immigrant generation, coupled with a pragmatic desire not to let this culture interfere with everyday life. The “old” culture is converted into ethnic symbols that must be simple enough to be shared by many people and easily understood. Many whites in the U.S. who maintain ethnic identities only do so in symbolic ways that take little time and minimally affect their everyday lives. Ethnicity, then, becomes highly individualized and expressive, although it has little or no impact on day-to-day living. Their ethnicity is tied to voluntary and arguably superficial events such as dishes cooked and holidays celebrated; for many, St. Patrick’s Day can be understood in this context.

Sociologist Mary Waters theorizes that the element of choice available to white ethnics makes symbolic ethnicity appealing. Although their ethnicity does not impact their lives in any crucial ways, Waters argues that it is important to white ethnics because ethnicity combines two important aspects of life. First, ethnicity connotes individuality—a feeling of being special that sets one apart from others. Second, it provides a sense of community, albeit a loosely knit one. This sense of community does not infringe on or restrict personal lives. Attending a St. Patrick’s Day parade, for example, allows Irish Americans to feel a part of the Irish American community but when the parade is over there's no stipulation that their lives have to be guided by Irish tradition or culture.

The traditional Irish focus on the religious aspects of St. Patrick’s Day stands in sharp contrast to the festive American counterpart. Right now, we have a unique opportunity to notice the tensions between the religious and the celebratory aspects of St. Patrick’s Day: This year, Holy Week—the week before Easter that includes Palm Sunday and Good Friday, which memorializes the last week of Jesus’ life—begins on Sunday, March 16^th. This means that St. Patrick’s Day falls on Holy Monday. Many church officials in the U.S. have been asking St. Patrick's Day parade organizers not to hold their parade on this day,in deference to Holy Monday. Some cities such as Philadelphia and Milwaukee are having early parades, but the biggest one of them all, the New York parade, and many others will continue as always on March 17—Holy Monday.

Interestingly, St. Patrick’s is celebrated by many Americans who are not Irish. (Almost three quarters (71.8 %) of Americans 18-24 years old will celebrate the day, and although 34.5 million Americans claim to have Irish ancestry, this number clearly does not account for all of those taking party in the celebrations.) This leads to a staggering amount of money spent on the festivities--$3.6 billion according to the National Retail Foundation.

Why do you think so many people with no Irish