One of the things that comes up in this or that commmunication class is the phenomenon of "political correctness." Whenever I hear that phrase, I clench my teeth. And that's not because, as is fashionable, I hate hate hate political correctness, or love to bray in my best Texas twang, "Ah'm nawt politically kerrect, haw haw haw!" Actually, I do my best to be politically correct, and I think the original idea that was parodied, caricatured, distorted, malformed, and lied about into something almost universally despised, was a good one. It's something I was taught as a child: good manners. Call people what they want to be called.
Years ago, I asked a friend of mine, "So I get that I'm not supposed to call you Indian. But I gather 'Native American' is not quite right. So what do I call you? Indigenous Turtle Islander?" She said "How about Cherokee?" Problem solved. Larger lesson: call people what they ask to be called. That's just respectful. Is it hard to keep track? Well, I can keep track of their names, can't I? Is one additional identity marker really that much more work? I had asked my friend to provide me with a label that fit her, but was also universal. Why did I think that a reasonable request?
Around that time, I dated an African-American woman for most of a summer. I found out right away that she preferred "African-American" to "black," which was fine with me. But the first time she called me white, I said "No, don't call me that. Call me European-American." What followed was a calm, and even fun, discussion of reciprocity and respect. My position was that she was free to call me white if I was free to call her black, and I would be glad to call her African-American if she'd call me European-American in return. She said our positions weren't mirror images of one another. Over time, we both converged toward a middle ground that chiefly consisted of treating the entire matter as an ongoing conversation. And not a touchy or sensitive one: a very interesting, rewarding one, packed with good, meaty, thought-provoking mutual lessons.
What I believe often holds people back from such conversations, and I'm no exception, is uncertainty. It was a very pleasant, and honestly very unexpected, surprise that we were able to explore the issue without stepping on one another's toes. But typically, when I meet new people and there's an identity issue, I freeze for just a moment because I'm afraid to mis-step, to present myself as a clumsy or insensitive person. It's genuinely not that I fear offending them; life isn't wrapped in cotton-wadding, and those who wear big people pants can handle offensive messages and offensive encounters without a trip to ICU. But I do work hard at telling others about myself through both my words and my actions, and I don't want that gestalt message to include the kind of sloppy, arrogant ignorance that I associate with the outright bigots I've known. It's easy to put such uncertainty in the same category with other fears that aren't tied to genuine danger: public speaking is the first one that comes to my mind, because it's my line of work. But categorizing it that way doesn't lay the issue to rest. Yes, we probably should confront the fear and muddle through it. Easier said than done.
I got to thinking about these things this morning as I listened to an interview on the radio at the end of which the announcer said "Merry Christmas," and the interviewee answered "Happy Holidays." That got me to thinking about the stink surrounding which greeting to use. It does strike me that the best solution is just to ask people which, if any, holiday they're celebrating, and wish them one of those: Merry Christmas, or Joyous Kwanzaa, or חג מולד שמח ושנה טובה. That does require extra effort, but I doubt the effort is what holds people back. I think the bigger barrier to finding out may be fear of uncertainty, which I'm convinced underlies the trap of alienation from which this culture doesn't seem to have any luck escaping.
(On a random note, I actually didn't start naming this month's blog posts with "M C" so that they'd fit "Merry Christmas." I named the first post of the month "mountain climbing" because of its subject matter, and what resulted was just serendipitous.)
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