Diversity=An Ever-Widening Variety of Ethnic Restaurants at which White People Like Me Can Dine

We can't let the week pass without calling attention to the almost too-perfect distillation of the mindless, happy-ass embrace of "diversity" for mere diversity's sake that was found in Chronicle columnist Lisa Falkenberg's offering of this past Tuesday. The column was pegged to the news ... well, it wasn't really "news" ... a less-than-newsy Census update showing (again) that the white percentage of both Houston and Harris County's populations continues to decline. Here's how the Teen Columnist* found yet another way to let readers know what an all-around fine and sensitivie person she is:

Although the trend has been building for some time, it's easy for today's Houston, tomorrow's America, to have sneaked up on some folks.

But many of us experience the richness of Houston's diversity every day, at work, at Hermann Park, at the Galleria, and embrace it.

That's a mighty tepid embrace by the "many of us." We don't go to the Galleria too often, but we feel comfortable in pointing out that the overwhelming majority of the cell phone-mesmerized zombies gliding up and down its walkways are white, maybe seven out of 10 you'd corral at random. Not a place where an upscale shopper such as Falkenberg would be discomfited by a general lack of whiteness. Perhaps she meant to type "Sharpstown Mall," but then that's really no place to wrap diversity in a heartfelt abrazo, since white shoppers there are almost as hard to find as a black or Hispanic editorial writer at the Chronicle.

As for "at work," we also feel comfortable in pointing out that the particular workplace where the Teen Columnist slaps together her schizz also is overwhelming white, almost as white as the ice rink at the Galleria, and the higher you go in the hieirarchy the whiter it gets. Not only does the paper boast (maybe it doesn't really boast) a downsized all-white editorial board, but the particular racket in which Falkenberg is engaged is so damn white it's funny: of the 20 personages listed as columnists for the paper, 18 appear to be as white as Falkenberg. That's 90 percent. The other two are African American. Not a Hispanic in view, in a city where, as Falkneberg "reported" with a touch of undisguised glee, Hispanics constitute a plurality of almost 43 percent. Not a one--nada.

This can mean only one of two things: either the Chronicle is one racist institution, nowhere near as willing as its Teen Columnist to embrace diversity, or the newspaper hires and promotes based on merit (and who you know, of course), not on race/ethnicity. Falkenberg could partly remedy this imbalance by voluntarily stepping aide for a Hispanic Metro columnist. Maybe the paper could find one who's a conservative ideologue AND knows something about the city, thus correcting three imbalances with one wild shotgun blast. Falkenberg could then go work the paper's police beat for at least a few months to get a somewhat deeper perspective on the city than can be obtained dining at the Cheesecake Factory.

We will grant that Hermann Park, the third venue where Falkenberg and the "many of us" embrace diversity, does attract a fairly mixed crowd, but outside of the golf course there's really not much of an entry requirement at the park.

*We noticed in her subsequent column Falkenberg seemed to indicate that she is with child. Of this we know no more, not having read past the second paragraph, but we do offer a heartfelt "Congratulations" and wish her the best of luck in finagling the magnet school thing.

Diversity in Action: A Tale from the Schoolyard

A young gentleman of our acquaintance has eagerly related to us information regarding a recent event at his very diverse (and highly rated) public middle school, a story that he believes deserves wider dissemination. We explained to the lad that while the story did not rise to the level of “news” as it is traditionally defined, it was the kind of “news” in which we have become increasingly interested, and we would do our part if he would “write up” an account. We instructed him to pretend he was a “reporter” and try to stick the “facts” as he witnessed them, without seeming to favor one side or another. This young man has been in the USA for only a couple of years and thus is not fully comfortable with the nuances and complexities of our difficult English language, yet he already possesses a talent for sequencing and chronology that far surpasses those of much older and more experienced native English writers with whom we’ve worked. We present his report here, with only the lightest touch of the editor’s hand, not to embarrass the young man but because … it’s interesting (a lot more interesting than, say, this prattle). The youngster’s title for his story was “The Race War,” a choice that may or may not reflect his mastery of the American art of hype. We cannot vouch for the veracity of all of the particulars, but then again it sounds real true. We have changed a name to protect the innocent:

The war started with a childish arguement during lunch. When this Asian kid said “Asians are the smartest race.” And then this white kid said “hell(x2) no, female dog!” [and] “F***ing Asian.”

Then all these Asian kids started to beat this white kid. Using the Asian martial arts such as Tae Kwon Do, Karate, Kung Fu, etc. And then reinforcements came from the other side of the school. Yelling “White Pride.”

However they didn’t fight they just stared at the fight. The kid who was getting beaten up saw these Mexicans laughing at him and said “D**n Mexican” and then the strongest and biggest kid came and joined the war.

That kid was a bully who was the violentest kid in the whole school (one time he brought a weed and guns to school and went to juvenile detention canter).

He said “Hey kid, I heard that you are talking sh** about Mexicans.” The kid who was getting beaten up literally shook by the time he saw the bully kid coming. When that Mexican kid came Arab kids said “ooh ….,” then the kid who was getting beat up said “shut up you F***ing terrorists.” Then the whole school surrounded the arena. When the teacher noticed that all the kids are gone, he ran to the courtyard and stopped the violent action. He gave 1 little detention to a Japanese kid who hit the pressure points to the white kid and then he gave 3 ISS (in-school suspensions) to all these white kids. That was the end of the Race War of 2007 at [Ambrose Bierce Middle School].

We suggested to the author that there was only one element missing from the story---a quote from Rice University sociologist Stephen Klineberg---but the boy apparently did not understand our lame attempt at jocularity.

Passages: Lauck Slings Jacket Over Shoulder and Strolls into Fog; Cultural Coach Hangs Up Cleats; New Master of Irony Debuts at the Chronicle

“Short appreciation of Dan Lauck” was near the top of our blogging to-do list for many months, but something or other---our real-life to-do list, chronic lassitude, forgetfulness … forgetfulness … something---always intruded. Now we learn that Lauck has Parkinson’s and filed his last story as a regular for Channel 11 on Friday (as first reported here), so we best get it on. In honor of Lauck, we’ll keep it terse: The guy was one of the only (if not the only) local TV newshounds with an actual voice, a distinctive style of presentation (understated, laconic, ironic … Hemingwayesque!) that set him far above most of his peers. He could write---we weren’t surprised to learn upon his departure that he had reported at Newsday and The Washington Post before coming to Houston---and his stories were invariably interesting, usually telling us something about Our Town that we didn’t know. We always paid attention when he was on-screen.

Good luck to him.

Now for the happy news: next Friday apparently will mark the last appearance of the “Cultural Coach” in the Houston’s Chronicle’s baleful Star section (formerly “the women’s section”). The coach, whose column, best we can tell, appeared only in the Chronicle and the Fort Wayne Star-Sentinel (Houston=Fort Wayne w/good restaurants), opened her penultimate offering (not available from the newspaper's Web site, for some reason) by claiming to be on some “conservatives’ hit list” (an “uncomfortable and scary place to be,” she solemnly relates, sans adult editorial supervision) and then recounted the story of a “self-described conservative” named Lance Somebody or Other from Fort Wayne (natch) who, through sustained and respectful dialogue with the Coach, came to a greater understanding of other cultures and peoples. The Coach reported that she and Lance “are learning how to create an American family” (hmmm … there’s books you can buy with pictures, if you need a shortcut) before announcing that she was pulling the plug and moving her column to the Web “so I can provide in-depth answers and offer guest commentaries.” No explanation of whether the plug-pulling was voluntary.

The Coach’s columns were a perfectly realized expression of the diversity racket---almost everything she counseled boiled down to common sense and good manners, the stuff a reasonably well-raised 10-year-old could tell you but for which corporations pay $5,000 so self-styled diversity consultants can torture their employees for a half-day.

We especially enjoyed the letters the Coach allegedly received seeking counsel, usually attributed to some well-meaning but benighted white person in “Fort Wayne” or “Houston” who wondered why, for example, the black people at the Cineplex are always talking so loud and ruining the picture show for everybody else, or why the illegal Mexicans are always parking their 6 cars in the front yard and ruining the neighborhood for everybody else (oh, maybe we haven’t sent that one yet). A casual textual analysis of these letters suggested a striking stylistic resemblance to the Coach’s own prose … anyway, good luck to her.

But if you think the Coach’s departure signals the reassertion of some intelligence by the Chronicle brain trust, as our friend Banjo calls it, forget it. No sooner had the Coach announced her bowing-out than the newspaper, as part of its ceaseless effort to make customers out of people who can’t or won’t read, hustled a brand-new columnist into the Star section, a person named Whitney Casey (no relation to sabbaticzing Rick, we presume) who hosts a local TV show we have not seen called Great Day Houston. Casey’s charge, apparently, will be to give advice about relationships. Her debut was accompanied by a front-page plug and a typically gooey Star section profile, wherein “Whit” allowed that she counts Maureen Dowd and Peggy Noonan as her favorite columnists.

Whit’s first effort was devoted to the news that there are Web sites that young people can frequent in search of relationships, or maybe just to get laid (who knew!). You can read it here, if they have Internet access in the Texas prison system, but we feel duty-bound to call attention to this choice paragraph:

You won't find any BBWs or SSBBWs on the Web site DarwinDating.com. The site accepts only thin, fit, good-looking members and promises "no ugly, unattractive, desperate fatsos." It also notes: "Charles Darwin was a genius, but unfortunately very ugly." It is ironic that he wouldn't be able to join DarwinDating.com! Snap!

So whadaya think: Dowd or Noonan?

If You So Smart, Why You So Racist?

That, more or less, is the question posed by a study co-conducted by Rice University sociologist Michael Emerson that recently came to our attention via blogger Steve Sailer (who’s the film critic for Pat Buchanan’s American Conservative magazine, if that matters, and if it does you should leave this site immediately and go here, especially if you’re having a slow day).

As summarized in the fall 2006 Sallyport, the Rice U magazine, research by Emerson and co-author David Sikkmik shows ...

that increased education of whites, in particular, may not only have little effect on eliminating prejudice, but it also may be one reason behind the rise of racial segregation in U.S. schools. Furthermore, higher-educated whites, regardless of their income, are more likely than less-educated whites to judge a school’s quality and base their school choice on its racial composition.*

Even after controlling for income and “other factors,” Emerson and Sikkmik found education has the “unintended effect” of whites placing a “greater emphasis” on race when choosing schools for their children while “higher-educated African Americans do not consider race,” according to Sallyport.

“I do believe that white people are being sincere when they claim that racial inequality is not a good thing and that they’d like to see it eliminated,” says Emerson. “However, they are caught in a social system in which their liberal attitudes about race aren’t reflected in their behavior.”

Based on this summary, we’re tempted to seize on Emerson’s work as an excuse to whip-up on one of our frequent (and admittedly easy) targets---hypocritical liberals of academia and the media who yammer on about diversity and multiculturalism but almost invariably toil at overwhelmingly white workplaces, send their kids to overwhelmingly white schools and usually don’t live within 5 miles of a black person who isn’t a fellow member of the professional class (although this truism doesn’t always hold in no-zoning Houston, where mostly black or mostly Hispanic low-income apartments are butt-up against mostly white suburban subdivisions).

But we’ll restrain our self, for the time being, so that we might quibble with Emerson's explanations, which reflect the reductive tendencies of white liberals when it comes to discussing diversity and race (we may, of course, be doing the professor a disservice, not having read his actual study).

Although we haven’t conducted a study, years of close observation suggest to us that the somewhat nebulous variable of class has more to do with phenomenon Emerson is trying to explain than the somewhat less nebulous factor of education, with which it is somewhat nebulously entwined. Black (and Hispanic) middle-class parents seek the same “status markers” for their children that Emerson suggests drives educated white parents to shun schools with large black populations, and they’ll work like hell to get them into magnets, private schools or charters, when and where that opportunity avails itself. Often, but not always, these schools have a majority or plurality of white students, a configuration that at least marginally contributes to the school’s image as place that is not just safe but provides an atmosphere conducive to learning (and signals such to attentive black and Hispanic parents).

When a kid---black, brown or white---tells you he goes to a “ghetto school,” he’s summoning a whole constellation of associations, none of them good, which parents of all colors instinctively understand. To break it down further, parents with any wherewithal---financial, mental, or that ineffable quality of drive---don’t want their kindergartners in the same class with other 5 year olds who learned to say “motherf—ker” from their parents’ rap CDs. That’s a desire that cuts across race.

One unfortunate result of this racial (or class) segregation is that the opinionating classes have little understanding of the enormity of the problems faced by schools that serve lower income students, which of course doesn’t deter them from issuing directives regarding diversity for others or making broad facile judgments, such as the media’s generally hostile stance toward vouchers, which in Texas seems to grow out of the fact that they’re being pushed by a rich right-wing bible thumper (being such doesn’t mean he’s wrong).

Emerson seems to be doing interesting work, but he loses us when he shifts from the observational to the prescriptive. As he is quoted by Sallyport:

“Our study arrived at a very sad and profound conclusion … More formal education is not the answer to racial segregation in this country. Without a structure of laws requiring desegregation, it appears that segregation will continue to breed segregation.”

Indeed, more formal education is not the answer to racial segregation. It’s the answer to how you become an educated person, or how you prepare yourself to get a decent job (or was the answer, past tense).

*Emerson speaks of “segregation” in a strict black/white sense, an outdated paradigm, at least in the Houston area, where many schools are highly desegregated by African-Americans, Hispanics, Asians, Africans and 57 other varieties of people. And don't forget the Meshketian Turks.

Update: Latest Breaking Kaffir/CAFR News

HOUSTON, TX. – We thought we might not have been fully awake Monday night when Fox News 26 reported that Councilman Jarvis Johnson had assumed a pose of high moral indignation after hearing Controller Annise Parker refer to the city’s Comprehensive Annual Financial Report by the acronym CAFR, which according to Johnson and his media enabler, Fox’s Isiah Carey, made it sound as if Parker had uttered kaffir, a word that (among other meanings in other cultures) was/is employed as a slur against blacks in South Africa.

Although Carey’s report had the logic of many of our dozing-off dreams, it turns out we were wide awake. And after a sound night’s sleep and a day’s somber reflection, it occurs to us that Johnson, who “fired off a memo” to Parker asking her to henceforth refrain from using the acronym CAFR, has his work cut out for him in his campaign to rid the world of the word kaffir. (Out of idle curiosity, we’re moved to wonder whether the councilman has ever used the word “nigger” in good-natured banter with fellow African Americans.* Just asking.)

First stop: Kaffir, Texas (yep), population probably not much, which according to the authoritative Handbook of Texas Online is a “rural community and loading station on the Santa Fe Railroad between Tulia [uh oh] and Happy [yeah!] in north central Swisher County. Kaffir is dominated by the huge grain elevator and loading bin beside the tracks near U.S. Highway 87 (Interstate 27) and apparently was named for the strain of grain sorghum (usually spelled kafir) produced in the area.”

Johnson, preferably with Carey and Fox 26 camera in tow, should immediately drive to Kaffir and demand that the locals change the name of their loading bin stop to something more appropriate. (“Bumfuzzle” sounds good.)

Then there's the kaffir lime leaf, said to be a key ingredient in Thai food (damn, we love Thai food). There are many fine Thai dining establishments in Houston, and hopefully Johnson will organize a boycott of each and every one until their dishes can be certified "kaffir leaf-free.”

And what about the book for young adult readers, Kaffir Boy, which can be found in many Houston-area schools, actually being read by Houston-area students? Johnson needs to root this work out of our schools, and maybe he can grab Dick Gregory’s Nigger and Huckleberry Finn while he’s at it.

We could go on---our son once had a friend, an Israeli kid named Kafir (pronounced kuh-FEAR)---but we’ll stop now. After all, we previously were under the vague impression that kaffir was an archaic term, a Kiplingesque, Boer War-era anachronism, but according to this recent article in The Guardian it still has the power to sting and discomfort.

In South Africa.

It also apparently is still used by some Muslims as a slur against non-believing infidels.

So count us a proud kaffir!

* Or whether he's gotten deeply ironic and used kaffir, as in "You my kaffir!"

It’s Too Damn Hot to Bat a Mere Eyelash

We recently used this space to discuss a column by Jose de Jesus Ortiz, the Houston Chronicle’s baseball writer. Mr. Ortiz had made what seemed to us a reasonable request: that the new broadcaster the Astros hire be able to correctly say the names of the team’s Latino players. We agreed that should be a non-negotiable qualification for the job but went on to note the difficulty we and pretty much everyone else (that is, the sizable portion of the populace that doesn’t have a play-by-play gig in Major League Baseball) has in pronouncing just-so the names of every last resident of this big, churning, ready-mix city of dreams we call home. We took a quick roll-call of our little subdivision---the Chinese folks, the Armenian-Iranian family unit across the street, the Franco-American redneck next door, our Mexican-American friends, etc.---and noted how many of them routinely had their names mispronounced, even by longtime neighbors. We quickly tired of this and didn’t get around to mentioning the nearby Vietnamese-Americans, the Pakistani-Americans, the Indo-Americans, the extended Bantu-speaking African refugee clan, the dour Russian crew from Kazakhstan up the street, the usual sundry run of African-Americans and Euro-Americans … we’ll stop now.

This posting brought an unusually large volume of e-mail to Slampo’s Place--- three, not including one from a friend of ours that we didn’t fully understand. A wise guy who identified himself as “Richard Smith” of Beaumont invited us to move to Vidor (we’ll have to explain this reference to our readers in France another time) if we weren’t down with all this diversity. We are, actually, but our point was that in a town with all 57+ varieties of humanity, the erroneous accenting of a high-paid utility infielder's name by an equally well-remunerated baseball announcer doesn’t have to be elevated to a La Raza-level offense. Multiculturalism can be hard work (we think that was our point).

We also went far out of our way to note that in the old days many immigrants with hard-to-say names simply shortened them or exchanged them for what were then considered more American-sounding ones. Among those huddled masses we counted our own grandfather, who performed voluntary surgery on the Slampeaux name (variations of which date back tens of thousands of years and can be found scrawled on the walls of caves in southern France) after he grew weary of hearing it intentionally mispronounced slam-POO by the fun-loving East Texans he had landed among. We are comforted to know this sort of thing still goes on, as we learned from this “Name Change Notice” we recently spotted in the local India Herald:

"I, Barkat Nurali Ali, herby declare the change of my name from Barkatali Nurali Miyajibhai Maknojiya to Barkat Nurali Ali.”

We thank you, Barkat (very cool name), on behalf of the doctor who writes your prescriptions and the druggist who fills them, the cop who last gave you a traffic ticket, the registrar at the college and, last but certainly not least, the contract worker in Bangalore who helped you when your Internet service was on the blip but first needed you to spell your mother’s maiden name.

Why Did We Find This So Funny? The “Corrections” box in Saturday’s New York Times included this item, in reference to the paper’s obituary on Dallas star Barbara Bel Geddes: “A picture caption referred incorrectly to the character she played. It was Miss Ellie, not Ms. Ellie.”