Humor? Yeah, sure. I guess so.

            When you pick up a book entitled “an anthology of African-American humor” with a giant watermelon rind on the cover, there are expectations that you set. Expectations that center around this book debunking African-American stereotypes in a way that gets its point across, but in a humorous way. Incorrect. Plain and simple, I do not find this book funny. Not in the guttural “ha-ha” sense, not in the “that’s so truthful that it elicits as sad chuckle” sense, not in the “I feel like that was the punch line, but I don’t get it” sense. It is only funny in the “It said humor on the cover, so perhaps I should give it a chuckle whether it deserves it or not, and because I’m feeling incredibly awkward with the material” sense. Admittedly, I found the W.E.B. Dubois story from the previous reading humorous because of the frankness and simple-ness of the narrator’s responses. But in general the material deals with such a dark time in country’s history that it doesn’t have much chance of being funny. Most of these stories were wrote during the late 1800s or the early 1900s during a time when African Americans were very much having to claw their way to equality in our society.

            This brings me to my next thought. Our readings have all been centered on that time period. In the readings, the most recent is “Let me at the enemy – and George Brown” from 1944. This is not a complaint that that time period of stories shouldn’t be read, it is simply a commentary on the reason why my expectations for Hokum weren’t met as I expected them to be. I think when I read the title and saw the demi-modern cover, I assumed modern African American humor, which this book also happens to contain. Because in my head I was picturing modern, I was picturing relatable topics and at least a handful of laughs.

            The humor of Hokum is separated from my humor in a number of ways which I think combine to make it “not funny” to me. Culturally I am separated from this piece. I am a white female so I don’t have the prerequisite “race” to understand. I didn’t think I would be so far blocked by this cultural filter because of the number of African-American friends I have. Enter the second filter: time period. So now I have my genetics fighting against me to understand the material as well as a generation gap. Sure, I’ve learned about how bad racial issues were at that time in school every year, but to live it is so different. To live it brings an understanding that surpasses book knowledge within moments.

            I like the dialect choices of the authors. I don’t find it to be a huge barrier to my understanding of the passages. I do find it a sign of the genius of the authors because they preserve a manner of speech that I fear will one day become less and less well known. Already our accents aren’t seen as the ones to use as news reporters are advised, “Use a Midwestern accent, because then they won’t be able to tell where you are from.” No, be proud of your culture and where you are from. As our society becomes more amalgamous every day, remember where you are from and what your individual values are that you bring to the table.

Drivng Perspectives

            Driving is something I probably take for granted. When it was time for me to drive, I definitely just “followed the plan.” When I was 15 I took Driver’s Education and practiced with my parents. When I was 16, I exchanged my Driver’s Permit for a Driver’s License, and the car search began. I search for a used car that was not only inexpensive but also would last me at the very least (I know I used the dreaded “very,” but it’s part of the expression; it can’t be helped) through college. Also, the vehicle should have satisfactory looks. At 18, restrictions were removed from my driving. I now come and go as I please. I put gas in my car, take it for routine oil changes and tire rotations, and sing to it if I like the song on the radio. Yes, Jesse (my car) and I get along quite well.

            It’s so different for International students like Yangyi (Keith) Since coming here, and while already studying as part of the International English Program, Yangyi has taken and passed the tests to get a Driver’s Permit. He has been really excited about it. At our meeting this past week, he asked me where the place was to get your Driver’s License. After blanking on the acronym for the shortest moment, I attempted to explain directions to the DMV off of Altamesa and McCart. With the help of Google Maps I pointed it out. Apparently he has one more part of his driving test to do before he can get his license, and he needs to do it at the DMV. I warned him of all of the stereotypes about the DMV, including the process and the workers. I warned to bring a good book because it may take a while. He thanked me for everything.

            The way he has to look at purchasing a car is quite different from the mindset I need. He explained that he only needs the car to last him 3 or 4 years, but that he should be able to sell it for a lot at the end of that time. So he is looking for even lower priced cars than I did perhaps, because it need only last 3 years for the occasional drive into Dallas or some other nearby town for dinner or some recreational activity with friends. He doesn’t really have much of a preference for color or style, because for the amount of time/use he expects out of it, he won’t need to worry about either of those considerations. Just needs something that will fit the basic needs.

~ ~ ~

            Yangyi has been improving on his English since we met. He thinks that he has progressed more than the Program thinks he has. He feels that he is becoming more advanced, and his scores even support it, but doesn’t think that perhaps his lessons are progressing at the same speed that he is.

Though I can’t tell a huge change since we first met, I do think that our particular conversations are strolling along a little less awkwardly. I attribute this partly to us finding that we actually have things in common with one another. I have a friend who I continually see around campus named Wesley. When we see each other we always yell “Serendipity!” because we don’t even know each other’s last names, but we see each other on campus sometimes even twice a day. We might be eating at the same time, studying in the library at 2am, or walking back from class to our 2 separate residence halls. When recently eating with Wesley, he said something about his roommate also being international (Wesley is from Kenya). I asked where he lived, and I thought it was interesting that he lived in the same Residence Hall as Yangyi. According to Wesley, all international students know each other because they are international. Since his saying this over-confident untruth, I have proved him incorrect in a multitude of ways, but in this case, I thought I would check the theory. I said, “Oh, I know a guy from China that lives there. Do you know Yangyi?” What a coincidence! Yangyi is his roommate! TCU is such an interconnected network of people. It is amazing to see how we are all somehow connected on this beautiful campus.

Mountains and Molehills

            Life is simple.

            Go ahead, think that it is false. Think of changing social norms, complicated social barriers, complex problems in need of even more complex solutions, and the ever-long struggle of balancing work life and social life. Think of the loops you must jump through on a daily basis in conversations, in mannerisms, and in tangible products. Think of complicated social hierarchy both here and abroad. Even in the way we, in America, introduce two people previously unfamiliar with each other by introducing first the more esteemed to the less esteemed, and then vice versa. In some countries that have a caste system, people cannot marry or, sometimes, even speak with a member of another caste. Their lives are run by concern of following the rules of their specific caste. Traveling a bit away from that way of thought, think of your daily routine and what it involves. Perhaps you have three classes, three meetings, a lot of homework, and two friends who are in the cruxes of crisis. In this situation you are concerned with scheduling, time management, being both a good listener and an aid to your friends, achieving, stress management, and maybe even motivation.

            Yes, it all does sound quite complicated. But at the base of it all, it’s not. Questions like “Why are we here?”, “What is my purpose?”, and “How can we coexist?” make the world and life sound so much more complicated than they are. They are necessary questions, but their answers are surprisingly simple. Albert Einstein once said, “Any intelligent fool can make things bigger and more complex…It takes a touch of genius – and a lot of courage – to move in the opposite direction.” I think this idea connects well, if not completely, with W. E. B. Dubois’s “On Being Crazy.”

            In this short story, Dubois paints a picture of the narrator, who is African American, doing various things that, if they were allowed for him to do, would be showing “social equality.” In the story, if an action shows social equality, it is taboo. The reason the quote fits is the narrator’s responses to the situations when a white man says to him, “But that’s social equality.” For instance when the narrator goes into a restaurant and sits down to eat, the white man eventually says, “Are you aware, Sir, that this is social equality?” The narrator’s response is: “Nothing of the sort, Sir, it is hunger.” This pattern of someone mentioning “social equality” in shock or in protest which is then answered by the narrator’s description of the simple task or feeling (like hunger, exhaustion, cleanliness) is continued throughout the short story.

            Dubois in this story is asserting that these issues come down to life’s simplest ways: eating, sleeping, moving, and basic hygiene. It is not life that is complicated. It is us, the foolishly intelligent humans, who make it complicated. We create the social norms and barriers that prevent life from carrying on as it should: simply and freely. It is not a matter of checking your skin color and then deciding if the restaurant will suit your needs based on that. It is a matter of knowing you are human and finding food to suit that basic sustenance need. We over-complicate things by concerning ourselves with fickle differences. The ultimate question I find is, as Rodney King or Jack Nicholson would say, “Why can’t we all just get along?”

PETA Would Not Approve

            Ok, so we didn’t meet for a couple weeks after being so enthusiastic about meeting again soon. It’s the terrible, honest truth. But in any case, our schedules locked up finally on this evening at 8 sharp! When he arrived I was so excited that I started talking a little too quickly. Then I realized I didn’t allow him to warm up to the conversation, so I paused, regrouped, and we started over.

            This time we’re skipping to the end. This meeting ended with zoos. Not the pleasant kind where caged animals stolen from their natural habitat sleep and get stared at all day by children and adults. Not even the kind where the animals are kept in a semi-wild environment and visitors simply drive through. No, in China, they have drive-through zoos that give you live chickens to hang out of your window as you drive through. What, you ask? Live chickens? Yes, you read it correctly. Apparently when you arrive at this zoo (specifically the zoo in Shanghai) you can buy a chicken – a live chicken – before entering the wildlife area. When you enter the area you put the chicken out the window while holding on to its legs in some sort of way so that it stays on the side of the vehicle. During your time in the zoo, lions and tigers will chase your vehicle until finally the chicken is pawed down and the carnivore tears at its skin and feathers.

Gross, right? It took everything I had not to react more than I did, and react I did. How could I not? Not only did I find the thought of it completely disgusting, but incredibly cruel. I can imagine it from those poor poultry eyes. One day you get caught on a farm and taken to a new place where you can play with other chickens all day and there are plenty of animals nearby. These other animals are not necessarily ones that you interact with regularly or ever, but it’s nice knowing they are there. The only downside to life is that every day at random moments one of your compatriots is chosen from the coop. There is no way to stop his or her removal. There is no way to understand why he or she was removed. All you know is that he or she never returns. When you think about it, you are sad, but, in the end, your blissful life continues roughly the same as always. Until one day you are that random chicken, and at last you find out the truth about your friends’ disappearances. After removal, you are handed to an ordinary person referred to as a tourist. This tourist then sticks you out of the window of a moving vehicle and shuts the window to nearly closed. As the tourist steps on the gas, the wind on the sides of the vehicle becomes extremely strong. You wonder the reason for creating this specific torture. Then you see them, those animals you were so glad were nearby only moments before. The lions chase the vehicle until, at last, they paw at you, they rip your skin and body, and you expire.

That, friends, is the gruesome tale of the Shanghai Zoo. This is the reason I can never label this type of zoo as “pleasant.” There is nothing pleasant about it. The only description can be Chinese. This zoo represents the Chinese take on how it should be done, and so perhaps I won’t understand it. Perhaps, I’ll even disagree with it. But also, perhaps, I might learn something from this added information. And just maybe this will help me achieve a greater world view where behaviors like this may be in other cultures that aren’t in my own.

Family

The second time the subject was family. His family, my family, writing the Chinese character for family; in short, we covered it all.

 

***

            I must admit this meeting was awkward. The amount of time in between our initial meeting and this meeting was less than a week, and so we struggled with finding what we could talk about. I tried to ask him about some of the things we had previously discussed. I thought this would be perfect to let him know I had paid attention and was truly interested in what he had to say. The problem was when he was telling me about his future plans in our last meeting he had told me the wrong dates. For instance, he had said the next Monday he would be going to a Justin Bieber concert with some friends of his from the IEP program. This being the Tuesday after the day I understood him to be going to the concert, I asked him how the concert was. Apparently it was still three weeks away. Oops! He had to re-explain it to me. While this could have been a bad or frustrating situation, it actually was a great jumping off point for our conversation. We rehashed the concert and any further plans he had made and then used it as a springboard to discuss his friends here.

            This is where family started to seep into our conversation. Apparently one of his friends here acts very similarly to his cousin in China. Because of my understanding of Chinese laws about having children, I questioned him on his family situation. Apparently one of his parents has a brother, which is not very common in China. Though we never did clear up which parent it was that had the sibling, the point is that the fact that he or she had a sibling was shocking enough in context. I took this as an opportunity to share with him a picture of my HUGE family.

            When the EMT’s finished CPR on him 20 minutes later...just kidding. His eyes did pop nearly out of his head when he realized I literally meant that they were all related to me, but any true medical emergency was averted. He asked about the family dynamics in a large family like mine, and I tried to explain to him about my family as best I could. From what I could tell, it was difficult for him to really understand what I was talking about. He has 1 cousin and they are extremely close, and I have around twenty first cousins that I probably see once a year, if that. It’s easy to see how it would be difficult to comprehend something so drastically different than you are used to.

            At this point we switched to writing Chinese. Due to the topic of the evening, we chose “family” as the character to write. I’ve wrote Chinese characters before, but family was definitely more difficult than the other words I have attempted. It took at least 5 minutes for a successful writing of “family.” But how long it took is not important! It is the fact that I did it, and did it well I might add!

            At this point we again had the awkward moment of searching for topics to discuss. Unfortunately we had exhausted every other topic in our previous meeting. So, 45 minutes into our second meeting, we decided to depart with plans of meeting again soon.