Most of us are in denial of what seems to be a pressing problem of our times. Racism is a powerful force, something deeply entrenched in institutions, mindsets and the culture. It is hard to not see it. Yet we choose to ignore it, shut our eyes and continue with our lives.
Something that is so blatant and out there is often overlooked. It is difficult to confront our own biases and our own prejudices towards others and so we consciously choose to ignore it. Nobody wants to be called a racist, even by themselves.
For the media, it is when the census releases some numbers, it is time to do a story and get done with it.
In one such case, I was assigned a story on diversity in the workforce. Simple enough. Call a few people, go out there interview "real" workers and then call experts. Get quotes. That's what journalism is limited to these days.
A tested formula for deadline writing. Because in shrinking newrooms where reporters are fast becoming an extinct species, you have a ton of other stuff to write. You can't chase one story. There is no "luxury" of working on one story as my editor once said to me. So real stories get buried in event coverage or usual town/school stuff.
But often one thing leads to another. In talking to people, in surfing the internet, in walking the streets, I stumbled upon the whys of the question of business ownership among minorities.
Of course, we had numbers. But nobody ever asked why these were so negligible in an area that claims to be so welcoming of diversity. There were only about 250 black-owned businesses in the region as the 2002 census data.
It wasn't difficult to understand why. This was a vicious cycle. With no start up capital, these individuals would have a tough time getting the loans. And then the discrimination is well too apparent.
Research has found that loan denial rates were high in such communities. Often, the members had encountered such racism in their interactions that it killed heir desire to be ambitious enough, discouraged them to open their own businesses.
This wasn't rocket science to figure out and I wonder why there wasn't anything on it earlier. Perhaps breaking news or town/city hall stuff took up most of the space in the newspapers along with advertisements.
Often it angers me ... this denial of such issues by those who can highlight it. But I guess journalism in today's world has come to mean breaking news and thousand stories related with one incident. Or maybe just looking for the usual scoops. In our bid to be the watchdog, we have shirked our responsibilty towards the larger community. Seems there are no takers for such stories because they make us feel ugly, tell us what a bad job we have done of making an equal society.
Some of these pieces are part of my work as a journalist. Others include my experiences as a traveler. Often the stories are my way of making sense of this world, of trying to know those other worlds that I am not a part of.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Monday, February 11, 2008
not a big deal - reality television
I would change a lot of things about my life if I could. But I can't so I'd rather make the best of it.
Living alone is not exactly a pleasant experience. You are stuck with the television for company in the lonely evenings when there is a winter advisory outisde and you would not want to risk your precious life for a trip to the coffee shop or the little neighborhood theatre.
Or with the internet because as they say it is the window to the world.
About reality televison, I must say it is good converstaion stuff. Like when I go to my hair stylist, I can endlessly discuss how Miss New York's breasts are not real because in the series that she first appeared in, she had much smaller assets than what she flaunts now and which could put Pamela Anderson's boob job to shame. And then there is Brett Michaels, the guy who lines his eyes with kohl and has a harem of strippers from all the world. Gosh ... if I had kids, I would throw the televison out of the window. Who would want the kids watching strippers fighting/striping for this rockstar of bygone eras ...
But then it is addictive I must admit. Because I want to know who is going home next and if Miss New York. And TLC's What Not to Wear team has pushed up my credit card bills because I now order clothes online that I think are age-appropriate and whatever else London and Kelley feel. And my wardrobe looks as if needs a $5,000 makeover.
They make the most out of single and ready to mingle sor of themes that probably resonates with a lot of the audience. Like Tila Tequila who did not know if she wanted a boy or a girl and ended up having a battle of the sexes that pushed up the ratings by some atrocious numbers. And there they wer fighting it out for little miss Tequila.
Then the true love drama. All these s-called celebs can't find true love so television will help them find one. Then there are these auditions where girls fight it out for flav ... with a huge clock tied around his neck.
But I watch them nontheless because it is mindless entertainment, which is what they say too, because it is reflective of a larger culture, a culture that puts notorious British Papparazzi to shame.
Nobody wants to be avergae. They all want to be taken seriously. Because their job is tough and they will show it you on relity televison how models have to strut out their stuff for a photo shoot to the point where it hurts and a tear or two appears around the made-up eyes.
Tyra Banks, in her America's Next Top Model, which I watch all the time, goes on and on about how serious the modeling business is and how models are misunderstood like a crusader out to correct all those isconceptiosn. Trust me, the world could do without all the rhetoric. Putting on a $20,000 Versace or Oscar De LA Renta gown on superbly toned body and posing in awkward positions is no rocket science.
Why are we so fascinated with knowing all about what's going on in other peoples' bedrooms? Is it because our lives are so bland, so boring that we need to vicariously through these celeb show them all shows.
And it never ends. We have seasons of them and they never find love too like us who never see the point of our own lives sometimes.
later...
Living alone is not exactly a pleasant experience. You are stuck with the television for company in the lonely evenings when there is a winter advisory outisde and you would not want to risk your precious life for a trip to the coffee shop or the little neighborhood theatre.
Or with the internet because as they say it is the window to the world.
About reality televison, I must say it is good converstaion stuff. Like when I go to my hair stylist, I can endlessly discuss how Miss New York's breasts are not real because in the series that she first appeared in, she had much smaller assets than what she flaunts now and which could put Pamela Anderson's boob job to shame. And then there is Brett Michaels, the guy who lines his eyes with kohl and has a harem of strippers from all the world. Gosh ... if I had kids, I would throw the televison out of the window. Who would want the kids watching strippers fighting/striping for this rockstar of bygone eras ...
But then it is addictive I must admit. Because I want to know who is going home next and if Miss New York. And TLC's What Not to Wear team has pushed up my credit card bills because I now order clothes online that I think are age-appropriate and whatever else London and Kelley feel. And my wardrobe looks as if needs a $5,000 makeover.
They make the most out of single and ready to mingle sor of themes that probably resonates with a lot of the audience. Like Tila Tequila who did not know if she wanted a boy or a girl and ended up having a battle of the sexes that pushed up the ratings by some atrocious numbers. And there they wer fighting it out for little miss Tequila.
Then the true love drama. All these s-called celebs can't find true love so television will help them find one. Then there are these auditions where girls fight it out for flav ... with a huge clock tied around his neck.
But I watch them nontheless because it is mindless entertainment, which is what they say too, because it is reflective of a larger culture, a culture that puts notorious British Papparazzi to shame.
Nobody wants to be avergae. They all want to be taken seriously. Because their job is tough and they will show it you on relity televison how models have to strut out their stuff for a photo shoot to the point where it hurts and a tear or two appears around the made-up eyes.
Tyra Banks, in her America's Next Top Model, which I watch all the time, goes on and on about how serious the modeling business is and how models are misunderstood like a crusader out to correct all those isconceptiosn. Trust me, the world could do without all the rhetoric. Putting on a $20,000 Versace or Oscar De LA Renta gown on superbly toned body and posing in awkward positions is no rocket science.
Why are we so fascinated with knowing all about what's going on in other peoples' bedrooms? Is it because our lives are so bland, so boring that we need to vicariously through these celeb show them all shows.
And it never ends. We have seasons of them and they never find love too like us who never see the point of our own lives sometimes.
later...
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