A few weeks ago, we had a morale event at work. Our morale committee does an exceptional job selecting different venues for events. We held this particular event at Canvas. These days, people often turn their passions into businesses. Today, we would drink alcohol and paint on canvas. They instructed us to park across the street at the public parking structure near the library and walk across. As we filed in, they ordered us to put on an apron and pick a station. Each station held two drink tickets.
I took two tickets off one of the stations farthest away from the front. I had to leave early, and thus I didn’t participate in the painting. However, I joined my friends with drinks while I watched the shop give basic instructions on how to paint a mountainous, evening landscape. Each station has schmears of white, black, and a couple of blues. Since I did not participate in the painting, I never put on an apron.
I have no insecurities about wearing an apron; I’ve worn one for years while working as a waiter. Nonetheless, I’d like to ponder that apron for a bit. It made no sense for me to put one on, since I hadn’t painted. For those who did paint, the likelihood of getting paint on their person is fair, so they wore aprons. This is not rocket science.
The Prophylactic
Please forgive the sexual imagery, but the apron served as a prophylactic, a protective device. Its purpose on that day was to protect you from paint. In this case, a physical barrier, much like the more traditional condom. Naturally, there are many protective devices for different situations. A sweater protects you from lower temperatures. Goggles protect your eyes from any debris that may fly and damage your vision. A hazmat suit? You have much bigger problems than I care to imagine.
Back in the 1980s, we obsessed about the sexist standard where women were indeed ‘pure’. We had some great films, like The Breakfast Club and St. Elmo’s Fire, where virginity is the topic of conversation. Additionally, other movies, like Losin’ It and The Last American Virgin, had this dominate the entire premise of the film. Eventually, we stopped caring and even ridiculed this idea with films like Easy A. Naturally, once you’ve crossed the threshold from ‘virgin’ to ‘non-virgin’, there is no going back. No level of prophylaxis will protect you from this.
Some events or experiences will irrevocably damage and scar you. Don’t believe me? Warning: If you don’t know these references, do not try to find the source. Even if you’re morbidly curious, search for their reaction videos instead; some things will inextricably mar you. Mention either of the innocent-sounding phrases, “two girls, one cup” or “one guy, one jar” among a large group of mixed friends and observe their reactions.
Dehumanizing language
It starts with the language, and it’s initially subtle. The words may be that you use the term ‘blacks’ instead of ‘black people’. You may not think there’s a difference. If we use the term ‘blacks’, then we almost imperceivably remove their commonality; the fact that we’re both people. It makes the language all ‘them’ and none ‘us’. A good rule of thumb? Making an adjective (like ‘black’) into a noun is the first clue. This practice is intentional and nefarious, but it only gets worse from here.
The next language construct? …referring to people as ‘illegals’. Please use the term ‘undocumented immigrant’ instead. First, the precise situations around what is criminal (and misdemeanor or felonies) are very subtle. Second, those who use this term with the assertion that they’re indeed breaking the law (not necessarily, actually), and the term is warranted. However, they neglect to use this term with people convicted of felonies, like Elizabeth Holmes. Third, when the administration revokes the legal status of over half a million people, does this magically turn them into criminals? The answer is no; not according to the Supreme Court, take it up with them: “As a general rule, it is not a crime for a removable alien to remain in the United States.”
Why does it matter? The more that we believe that they’re ‘less like us’ or ‘not entirely human’, the easier it is to treat them in inhumane and inequitable ways. Do you honestly believe that we would so easily tolerate a police officer kneeling on a white man’s neck for nearly ten minutes, while that man explains that he can’t breathe and cries out for his mother? Do you believe that officer would even have the temerity to do that when the perpetrator is Caucasian?
Dehumanizing others poisons you
You can’t paint a picture without getting paint on you. You can’t fling mud without getting some on you. You can’t dehumanize others without it poisoning you. Studies show that given pictures of white and black men of equal weight and stature, we find the black man a bigger threat to our safety than the white man, merely by the color of their skin.
Another reason to stop dehumanizing others? Do you want the “what have you done for me lately” clause? The moment we establish a hierarchy is the moment you have a place in it, and logically, the moment someone else may sit in a higher position. This is not rocket science. The moment you utter words like “illegals” and “blacks” to refer to other human beings is the moment you make it easier for someone to build a caricature of who you are and assign a spot for you. The only real solution is to dismantle the hierarchy, not to gain position in it.
However, this very notion petrifies those who are at the top of that pyramid. A larger voice asserts that we can be different. They dare believe that we, independent of who we are, should be treated equitably. They envision a world where we dare to include everyone. Those at the top don’t want to lose their standing and thus villify DEI. Under the new administration, the FBI literally painted over the wall with words like: integrity, fairness, leadership, compassion, constitution, and yes, especially diversity.
It all plays out like a real-life (and malevolent) version of Mean Girls, where people die. The question is, do you want to be a Plastic?