A white child raised in a Hispanic household whose first friend was black.
The world is an odd place and I was fortunate to have an odd upbringing. Growing up, it was always quite easy to point out the various differences between myself and the world around me. Even as a young child, the color differences between myself and the rest of my family were obvious. I was a pale dot on a brown canvas. The years brought another noticeable difference, that of height. My non scientific assessment is that my Anglo Germanic genes gave me my robust build and six feet plus worth of height, while my cousins were thin and peaking at about five foot four.
It was a strange thing, though one I didn’t understand the full significance of while I was young. There were lots of things I didn’t notice while young, of course. My best friend, my first friend, my only friend when I was very young, was the only black kid in the neighborhood. I couldn’t have told you why that was an important distinction at the time, no more than I could have told you that in the future the difference in my skin color would afford me opportunities unavailable to my cousins. I just couldn’t tell you why these distinctions were necessary.
I had similar problems with religion. I believed then, as I do now, in the importance of Jesus Christ. I had severe problems, though, taking the hard line that others around me did. Most importantly, I couldn’t understand the Calvinist argument of the predestined versus those not predestined. Bear with me for a moment of theology, but the argument simply states that God chooses some, and not others, for salvation. In all cases it requires a confession of Christ as savior, and even then, in the hardest form of the theology, there is no absolute surety of eternal reward. Very early I didn’t see how such a theology could apply to people raised in parts of the world, from Africa to China, where other religions dominated. Even young, I knew that religion was, largely, a matter of where one was born. Critically, I saw virtuous demonstrations from people that were entirely atheistic. The matter of salvation simply seemed far more complicated than what was being argued, and I quickly learned to be firm in my belief in the importance of Christ’s virtues, and slow in the condemnation of others. Love everyone, state your beliefs proudly, but never be so arrogant as to suppose you had all the answers.
My first church was the local Iglesia de Dios in a poor side of town. My second church was the radio and television. On the way home from school, my father adored playing the Isley Brothers, the Temptations, and Marvin Gaye. There’s a theme to all that music, as my father, a hispanic man, appreciated soul, blues and doo wop. The observant person may also notice an ethnic trend among all those performers, which to this day I will argue had a lasting impact in my preference in music and women. Regardless, it was the music of my youth, and an odd act of disobedience to our fervent religious household. It was a statement of faith in our denomination that listening to non-Christian music was sinful. My father, to this day a compassionate and religious man, towed the church line. Yet car rides had a spirituality distinct from the church.
As a child I was as racked by insomnia as I am as an adult. Late into the night I would watch television with my father, as he rested on the armrest of the couch, a large glass of milk and a stack of cookies in his hands. The shows were numerous, and you had the obvious hits: The Brady Bunch, the Andy Griffith Show and Gilligan’s Island. Over the years the programming changed, and I would become addicted to M.A.S.H. and All In The Family, shows I didn’t even realize were transforming my view of society. To this day I can quote the Archie Bunker argument with George Jefferson over whether Jesus Christ was white or black. It was an eye opening moment.
Yet above all there was Star Trek. I will never forget watching four men beaming down to strange new planets: Kirk, Spock, McCoy, and a doomed-to-die Red Shirt. Like many youngsters I suppose I was drawn to the goofy gadgets and outrageous technologies. At least, in their day the technology seemed outrageous. Today our cell phones do almost as much as the Tricorders in the original series.
I remember thinking Lieutenant Uhura was the most beautiful women I’d ever seen, and the day Kirk kissed her, forced though it was by alien mind control, I had a surge of youthful testosterone. Sexual and romantic desire was a concept I’d only begin to fully understand over a decade of teenaged angst, and late into my twenties was still something I was struggling to get a handle on. It made an interesting doorway, though, into the exploration of race. I never remembered thinking it was unusual to be attracted to black girls. That would not change as I got older, as I became a man and the girls became women. Hold onto this line of thought for a few paragraphs. I shall return.
Star Trek’s exploration of race and its flirtation with interracial romance was only the most obvious exploration of diversity. Today, the Star Trek format is seen as flawed, or at least boring. Observe, for a moment, the great science fiction hits of the last decade. Star Trek, in the theaters, took on massive action set pieces at the expense of philosophy. That is perhaps understandable, since the large screen is so suited to spectacle. Even on the small screen, though, it was not Star Trek that dominated conversations, but shows such as Battlestar Galactica.
Do not get me wrong. Battlestar Galactica is a very, very good show that explores the human condition, but it is fundamentally different from Star Trek. Baked into its foundation is a humanity that reflects humanity as-it-is currently. They suffer so incredibly from prejudices, anger, and divisiveness that their exodus fleet is as threatened by internal divisions as it is by external threats. In one way, that is a fantastic method of exploring humanity and the things we are undergoing, currently, as a species. Ron Moore, who helmed the show, was also a lead in the production of DS9. That show, too, achieved much of its drama by portraying a very flawed humanity.
Which in many ways is a loss to what Star Trek originally was. Gene Roddenberry, imperfect as we all are, came from a school of science fiction that envisioned an evolved humanity. Here was a man surrounded by racism, prejudice, war, and a country threatening to tear itself apart. Rather than observe humanity by developing a show that reflected humanity as we are, the original Star Trek, and to a large extent The Next Generation, reflected a humanity as we could be. This was a show whose humanity had largely evolved beyond prejudice and, while they still suffered from internal disagreement, set aside differences for a greater good. It was a wonderful concept, and remains so. However, a show cannot have drama without conflict, so how could Star Trek achieve this? In its exploration of alien species.
Perhaps the fundamental bedrock of the show had to lead to a limited scope that would eventually run its course, but Star Trek took the modern plagues of humanity and placed them outward, on alien cultures. Actually, in truth, the aliens were us: human beings. They were us in costumes, with makeup and prosthetics to make them look different, but they always reflected the sins that are and have been the great hindrances to humanity’s onward march. If a crew of Kirk, Spock and McCoy, or a crew of Picard, Riker and LaForge, stumbled upon Earth today, they would see us as little different from the many other species of the Galaxy held back by their own internal discord.
And why? Why so torn? Perhaps Star Trek’s most blatant example of how silly our differences can be was in the episode “The Last Battlefield”. In it, two members of a species are picked up by the crew of the Enterprise. Both have faces that are half black, half white. The singular difference is which side of the face is white, and which is black. Each man has the reverse pattern of the other. Throughout the episode the two quarrel, arguing that each is superior to the other. It is a racial superiority argument based on what seems to the crew of the Enterprise to be a silly distinction. Then, upon the arrival at their home planet, the two aliens see that the entire planet has been obliterated by a racial war. They are the only two of their species left and, blaming one another for the destruction of their species, they head to the planet’s surface to battle. Their conviction in their superiority results in the genocide of the entire planet’s population, its last two survivors included.
With a distinction so trivial it may seem to be silly. In reality, though, it is no more trivial than the distinctions we use to carve our culture apart every day. One person’s skin is black, another’s white. One person’s eyes possess an extra fold above the eye, anothers voice possesses a rough accent. Quite young I got the message, and into adulthood I carried it with me.
Adulthood, even young adulthood, was a rude awakening to a world that was virulently intolerant in a way I could not comprehend. If I chart history, I believe it was 9/11 that made me fully aware of how hostile people could be toward those who were different. Suddenly, all the world around me was full of anti-Muslim rhetoric. Never was I able to believe that, based on the actions of a few, that you could convict the many. At 18, I’d made my first vote for Bush. Sure that I was a Republican, over the next few years the rhetoric toward those of other races and religions would change my mind. On the same basis that I refuse to convict the many on the words of a few, I do not believe that all Republicans are anti-Muslim or anti-Hispanic. However, I would ask all Republicans to seriously look into the words of their leaders. It was doing so that made me vote Democrat in 2008.
To return to an earlier point I delayed for a moment, let me return to the issue of attraction. I benefit from white privilege. In my line of work, people in various positions of leadership, both religious and economic, feel far more comfortable talking with me than some of my peers in the company. It is one thing to talk to a white man standing six feet tall. For many, that is fine. Those same people feel quite uncomfortable talking to a gay black man standing five foot five. It is, from a Star Trek point of view, a trivial distinction. We are both, after all, human beings, with hopes and desires and dreams. Yet the trivial distinctions are enough that my partners and I acknowledge that there are certain people I need to talk to due to my appearance and orientation.
Because of that, I also became surrounded by progressively white, affluent individuals. This was no issue to me, because human beings are human beings. What became an issue was what became said when only white people were standing around. On one occasion, during the NBA All Star Weekend, I suggested going to a regular nightspot of ours. The response was, offensively, “That place is too dark tonight.” As a translation for those not understanding the statement: That place has too many black people tonight. On another occasion, as the men stood around, talking about the women in their lives, I showed a photo of my current romantic interest. She was, of course, a black woman, something I did not think twice about. What returned to me was revolting: “Oh, you like those n****r girls.” The statement was made with a laugh as this supposed friend proceeded to down a beer. I never considered him a friend again.
I simply cannot understand what prevents a person from talking to another. Quite recently, I had a laugh with a Muslim woman I met, telling her she was the best Christian I’d met in a while. Her passion for people, her love for others and her desire to encourage and inspire people to be better human beings was, frankly, humbling. The spark of light within her was undeniable, and yet I know too many that would have seen her clothing, made their judgment, and continued on. That she wore a hijab is such a trivial distinction. Frankly, it adds color and diversity to the world. Yet I know more than a few that would have wanted nothing to do with her.
Yet despite my tolerance for others, I know I am prejudiced in some things. I think, at some level, everyone is. What matters is how we deal with our prejudices and treat others. I still make mistakes, and my crimes sometimes bother me late into the night, but I would prefer to be bothered than not. In large part I think I owe my reluctance to judge on a life filled with diversity, both on television, on the radio and in my surroundings. I myself was distinct from my family in ways I didn’t quite comprehend until I was in my teens. All I can ask is that people contemplate what is inside themselves and why they ask for treatment they refuse to give others. Star Trek once referred to the Undiscovered Country as the future. I believe the Undiscovered Country is ourselves. Until we explore what we believe and why, we can never journey on.