Stick It to Me—Stigma

Four . . . that is the number of tattoos my daughter now has adorning her body.  Yesterday she got number four . . . where her neck joins her back . . . and, it is of the Beartooth of the Beartooth Mountains in Montana.  It is actually a cool looking tattoo . . . in fact; all of her tattoos are pretty cool.  There is the tiny dove on her right shoulder . . . the peace symbol on the inside of her right wrist . . . the “Let it be” on the left side of her collar bone . . . and, now, on her neck/back.  If you did not know where to look, you probably would not even know she had any tattoos, but that does not hide the fact that she is a “painted woman”.

At least that is how some people react when they learn that she has tattoos . . . she’s a bad girl, a wild woman, a criminal, or even a druggie.  When I told some folks about her most recent tattoo, I got that reaction from them . . . you know that look . . . one that expresses lots of disapproval and curiosity.  Curiosity about what sort of person she is . . . and, what sort of parents are the wife and I, since our daughter has four tattoos!  As I said, if one did not know where to look, no one would even know she had tattoos.  So, what is the big deal?

In all honesty, as the kids were growing up, I was pretty staunch against tattoos.  I gave the kids the lecture (number 87, I think) about them not getting tattoos as long as they were living their parents’ house.  Part of the reason for this is because tattoos are permanent . . . you cannot easily erase them later on when they become boring.  Ask one of my friends who got the name of his girlfriend tattooed on his arm professing his unending and undying love . . . ended up marrying someone else, and after forty years still regrets that his wife has to see that “other woman’s” name on his arm.  There was also some of that generalizing about the sort of people who would have tattoos . . . didn’t they understand that their parents were ministers!  What would the congregation think?  As the kids were growing up, tattoos were taboo . . . three of them got tattoos within a few months of moving out.  Yeah, what sort of parents were we!

Unfortunately we live in a society that is prejudicial . . . that is very judgmental . . . that has opinions that are readily expressed . . . that likes to separate and divide . . . that generalizes . . . that likes to stigmatize . . . and, even more unfortunately, we are all guilty of taking part in it.  Yeah, I know what you are thinking, you are not a prejudiced person . . . phtttt!  We all are prejudicial . . . trust me, we are all prejudicial.  We have our likes and dislikes . . . our opinions . . . our ideas of what is acceptable and unacceptable . . . what is right and wrong.  All of this makes us opinionated.  Opinions express our prejudices.  Right or wrong, knowingly or unknowingly . . . we all have our prejudices.  I have only known one truly unprejudicial person in my life, and he hated everyone and everything!

Stigma is a “mark” or “sign” or “label” that is used to separate others because they are different . . . they are unacceptable to some sort of written or unwritten set of rules and norms . . . It is to brand someone through perceptions (right or wrong) as being different.  As we all know, being different is not good . . . after all, God created us all in the same image . . . God’s.  Surely your image of God is the same as my image of God!

Stigma reared its ugly head early in my life and the life of my family as I was growing up.  Two of my brothers have disabilities . . . one has Cerebral Palsy, the other has major learning disabilities.  Growing up they were just my brothers . . . we fought, laughed, played, goofed off, and got in trouble . . . just like all siblings do.  I did not recognize that their disabilities made them any more or less my brothers . . . they were just my brothers.  But outside of the house the stigma flew . . . they were retarded (which neither of them are) . . . they were burdens (no more than any other children) . . . our family was trash and to be pitied . . . and, the list could go on and on.  It is no fun being on the short end of the stick when it comes to stigma . . . you can only ignore it for so long . . . you can only punch out so many people . . . you can only bang your head on the brick walls so many times.

But it did not end when I grew up and moved away from my family.  I got married, we had kids . . . and, two of the kids ended with disabilities.  One son has Epilepsy, the other learning disabilities.  It was like déjà vu . . . I hated what it did to my family growing up, and what it did to my children.  It was wrong.  Plain and simple, it was wrong . . . then and now.

Now, as many of you know, the wife and I are ordained ministers . . . have been for thirty years now.  That in and of itself is a stigma.  When I started working at the university, it got out that I was an ordained minister.  Which in turn stigmatized me . . . oh sure, I got all the theological questions, all the “please pray for us” requests, but I also got this unfair stigma that I was a certain type of “holier than thou” saint.  Needless to say, experience has changed that opinion of me over the years . . . I am just like everyone else.  Shocking as that may seem, I really am like everyone else.  I cuss . . . fuss . . . think things I shouldn’t  . . . say things that I regret . . . and, pretty much live life like everyone else.  The problem is that sometimes even positive labels can become stigmas that do not allow the individual to be who God created him or her to be.

Stigma is sticking it to another unfairly . . . it is making generalizations about others unfairly . . . it is separating, dividing, and even killing others because they are not like “us”.  We are all guilty of it . . . we do it all of the time.  Think about how we lump all politicians and political parties into categories . . . how we react to people with mental illness (they are all crazy) . . . how we treat people with disabilities . . . how we portray the elderly on television . . . how we portray gay people . . . how we treat reformed criminals (once a criminal, always a criminal) . . . how we treat those in different economic classes . . . foreigners, especially those from the Middle East . . . and, the list could go on and on and on.

Which brings us back to tattoos and my daughter.  It is unfair to stigmatize my daughter because she has four tattoos.  She is intelligent.  Good looking.  Hard-working.  A loving and devoted mother and wife.  She laughs at her father’s jokes.  She believes in God . . . tries to eat only organic and natural foods . . . reads all of the time . . . sings all of the time . . . enjoys life.  She is special and unique, and she happens to have four tattoos . . . did I say that they are all pretty cool tattoos?  So why the looks when I tell people that she has four tattoos?  What difference does it make?  She is beautiful, just as we are all beautiful, as God created her to be.  Who are we to mess with what God created . . . after all, scripture tells us, we are all created in God’s image.

Over the years I have come to view tattoos differently.  I have even caught myself thinking about getting a tattoo from time to time . . . of course, the children have encouraged me to get off the pot and do it . . . but, it hasn’t happened yet.  But, it is getting closer.  Maybe, just maybe, I will have to get one to support my daughter.  What would the neighbors think!  What would my congregation think!  What would my co-workers think!  What would the world think!  That would really blow my minister stigma out of the water!  But, who cares?  I am who I am . . . in God’s image . . . as God created me to be.  If it is good enough for God, it should be good enough for everyone else.

Please don’t stick it to others . . . please do not stigmatize.  Label bottles, not people.  In the end it is how we loved that will make the difference . . . if that isn’t something that Jesus told us to be about, then I don’t know what is.  Tattoo or not, I love my daughter for God created her to be . . . besides, like her, I love the Beartooth Mountains too.

Be Careful

Ann Coulter ‏@AnnCoulter on October 23

Obama: "Stage 3 Romneysia" - because cancer references are HILARIOUS. If he's "the smartest guy in the room" it must be one retarded room.

Ann Coulter ‏@AnnCoulter on October 22

I highly approve of Romney's decision to be kind and gentle to the retard.

This is not a “political” rant . . . I think folks need to keep that stuff to themselves much like they do their sex lives, bank accounts, and whether or not they are cheating on their income taxes--especially if the rant is to beat another into submission or to degrade them because they disagree.  Our society has been filled with a lot of political rants for quite some time thanks to this being an election year . . . and both sides are equally adept at it. It is true that there is a right to the freedom of speech, but somewhere along the line our society crossed the boundaries of decency, respect, and what Jesus called his followers to—loving one another.

Because I do not watch much television beyond my beloved Nebraska Cornhuskers playing football or volleyball, I really didn’t know who Ann Coulter was.  All I knew is that she sure was in the headlines this week for referring to the president of the United States as a “retard”.  So, I did what any half-way intelligent individual would do . . . I “googled” her.  What I learned was that she is an intelligent individual with a good education (University of Michigan and Cornell University), a lawyer (University of Michigan Law School), and a conservative and political commentator, author, and syndicated columnist.  Plus, she is obviously a beautiful woman . . . but her words betray her.  Twice in a 24-hour period she called the president a “retard”.  It was not funny . . . it was mean, hateful, and disrespectful no matter who she was referring to.  Apparently that is her style during this political season . . . check her out on Twitter (https://twitter.com/AnnCoulter).  Is this what the founding leaders of our nation meant by “freedom of speech”?

Again, this is not a “political” rant . . . this is a rant about using words to hurt and belittle others . . . this is about using degrading words to describe others because we disagree . . . this is about using the “R-word” that ranks right up there with using the “N-word” and “G-word” . . . this is about doing as Jesus called for his followers to do, love your neighbor as you love yourself.  It seems that there is not too much self-love evident during this election year.

I grew up with and still have two brothers with disabilities . . . the “R-word” was a constant taunt and put-down growing up.  I have two sons with disabilities . . . and, again, the “R-word” was quite familiar.  Anyone who knows me knows that I do not tolerate such language to describe others.  Way back in March I wrote a blog—The “WORD”—dealing with the Special Olympics campaign to “Spread the word to end the word.”  You can read that at http://www.bogw.blogspot.com/2012/03/word.html.  I haven’t changed my opinion.

I imagine that there are those out there who think that I am being too sensitive about the issue . . . that Ms. Coulter and others are just kidding around and using tactics to get attention, but the old children’s rhyme about “words not hurting” is a lie.  Words do hurt . . . often for a lifetime and beyond.  I guess we should be thankful that there are people out there like Ms. Coulter who remind us that words do hurt and effect people as individuals and groups.  It helps us to remember that it is necessary for us to become “conscious” of our “words” as we speak them and our “actions” live them.  Violence does not only come in the form of physical harm, but it also comes in the form of the words that we speak and the actions or inaction we take.  A bruise may heal, but a spiritual bruise never leaves.

It is only right that someone speaks out to say that a statement or action is unacceptable when it crosses the line.  It has nothing to do with who one is voting for, but how we treat one another.  As I said, both sides have done a lousy job at treating each other with respect or love.  Nothing will ever stop this decline unless we stop it . . . and stopping it begins with ourselves as individuals.  It begins within ourselves and then spreads outward to include others.  If it does not begin with ourselves how can we expect anyone else to change?

Is this the best we can do for those who follow us . . . the children?  Is this the legacy any of us wants to leave for the generations to come?  Stephen Sondheim wrote these “words” in his wonderful musical (my all-time favorite), Into the Woods:

Careful the things you say

Children will listen

Careful the things you do

Children will see and learn

Children may not obey, but children will listen

Children will look to you for which way to turn

To learn what to be

Careful before you say "Listen to me"

Let us be careful out there . . . people are listening!

Fitting Out

“I think fitting in is highly overrated. I’d rather just fit out... Fitting out means being who you are, even when people insist that you have to change. Fitting out means taking up space, not apologizing for yourself, and not agreeing with those who seek to label you with stereotypes.”

(Golda Poretsky)

I am as guilty as everyone else . . . I have a tendency (when not really thinking about what I am saying) of dropping into generalizations and stereotyping.  We all do it without even thinking about it because we are so used to doing it.  It is unconscious behavior on our parts—we just do it . . . and we shouldn’t.  We shouldn’t speak in generalizations and stereotypes because they are usually wrong . . . and typically not true.

For example: White men can’t jump . . . now I can’t jump and happen to be white, but I know lots of white men who can jump and jump quite high.  I just happen to be one of them that can’t jump except to conclusions.  Wasn’t the guy who won’t the high jump gold medal in this year’s Olympics white?  There is no truth in that statement.  Just like saying all blondes are idiots, athletes are “dumb jocks”, Republicans are conservative and Democrats are liberals, and that Muslims are terrorists.  None of those statements are true . . . I know some liberal Republicans, conservative Democrats, smart athletes and blondes, and lots of Muslims who are not terrorists but Republicans and Democrats.  They are all pretty nice people.  And, what is so peculiar about all of this stereotyping and generalizing of people is that we all know exceptions to this false way of thinking and talking . . . but we still continue to do it. 

Generalizations and stereotyping saves time and we don’t have to think.  M. Scott Peck, author of The Road Less Traveled, wrote in that book that sin is taking the easy way out.  If that is the case then generalizations and stereotyping is sinful.  If it is sinful, we shouldn’t be doing it . . .

. . . but we do.  For example, close your eyes and get a visual picture of a minister.  Now think about everything that represents a minister to you.  Got that mental picture?  Good . . . now let’s talk . . . I am a minister and I am sure that I am not your typical stereotypical minister . . . nope, far from it.  See if I fit that “image” of “minister”.  I do not wear a suit and tie, except for funerals, weddings, and when I need to impress someone.  I don’t tote a big leather Bible around, but now that there are apps for cell phones I do have one loaded on my phone.  I have been known to swear on more than one occasion, especially commuting back and forth from home and the university or watching my beloved Nebraska Cornhuskers taking a beating.  I like rock and roll, but not so much the Gaithers.  I like my microbrews.  I know the universal sign for “good luck” and have not been afraid to use it while driving.  I don’t pray in old English or King James, but prefer to use something closer to Dr. Seuss while addressing God.  On and on I could go . . . but you get the idea.  Ministers are as different as anyone else and it is not fair to assume that all of us are alike.  I shudder at the world that would be!

“Once you label me you negate me.”

(Søren Kierkegaard)

 Kierkegaard has got it right.  God created each and every person as unique and special creations . . . no two human beings are exactly the same . . . we are all different in how we look, think, and act.  We are special and we should embrace that specialness and strive to become all that God created us to be.  As I see it, and if I am taking the scriptures to heart, if we are all created in the image of God, then we are all little reflections of God that allow us to see God more fully.  To lump us together and all us all the same would be to destroy that image of God . . . not to mention that it would be a shame . . . and, sinful.

Being reminded of this behavior or habit of generalizing and stereotyping from the time to time is good.  I need it.  I think we all do.  I think we all need to “fit out” a whole lot more . . . it sure makes the world a much more colorful and exciting place to live.  Think about it.

When Yearbooks Hurt

I graduated from Wheaton Senior High School (Maryland)—Class of 1976.  We were the bicentennial class as it was also the year of our nation’s 200^th birthday.  I know that I graduated as a Wheaton Knight because I have the yearbook to prove it.  It is incriminating evidence at its best or worse after you see the pictures of that time and place in my life.  My yearbooks have produced many a laugh at my expense from my children when they have taken the time to glance at those “long ago and forgotten times”.

Yearbooks seem to have that power of nostalgia and humor for those of us who kept them safely hidden away for years.  I have been amazed at the mesmerizing pull of these dusty old tombs when I have browsed through them.  They provoke some powerful memories of good—and bad—times in my life.  They have made me remember old friends who are now long gone in other parts of the country and living their own separate lives.  They have brought tears to my eyes, and they have made me laugh.  They have helped me close some doors that needed to be closed, while at the same time helped me open some others that needed to be opened and explored.  All in all, I cherish my yearbooks and somewhere down the road so will my children as they strive to know their father a little better.

There is no doubt that yearbooks can have an impact on people’s lives and leave a lasting (sometime life-long) impression.  Because of that a yearbook and the people it portrays should be held up with the same kind of respect http://usnews.msnbc.msn.com/_news/2012/05/22/11810461-texas-yearbook-labels-some-special-needs-students-mentally-retarded?lite) that anyone would want in his or her own life.  Recently MSN.com (shared a story about a high school that accidentally forgot this when putting out its yearbook this year.  It seems that it was a simple mistake of attempting to do something nice that created more of an uproar than it was meant to do.

 

The problem?  Inclusiveness . . . or what the yearbook staff thought was going to be inclusion when it made a special and separate two-page section for those students with disabilities attending the school.  This “special needs” section was meant as a way of including those students into the rest of the student body.  The only problem was that the terms that they used to describe these students were what those in the disability advocacy field consider to be “politically incorrect”.  To describe these students such words as “mentally retarded” or “deaf and blind”.  In fact, some individual students were specifically described using these words.  Also, the staff printed individual pictures of the students without receiving permission from the students or their families.  Their best intentions creating a feeling of inclusiveness ended up creating feelings of separation and devaluing.

Granted, I think that it was—as the article explained—an unintentional mistake with no sense of ill-will.  It was a simple mistake.  Luckily a teacher caught the mistake and sought out a solution to remedy the problem.  The school collected all the yearbooks, returned them to the printers, had the two pages removed, and returned them to the students. So, what is the problem?  No big deal right?  Everything worked out for the best in the end . . .

. . . or did it?

The problem is that images and words are powerful and have the ability to taint our minds consciously and unconsciously not only for years to come but for generations to come.  Images and words can become stigmatizing and wound people—often to a point that they can never overcome them.  Don’t believe me?  Take out one of your old yearbooks and start going through the pictures of your fellow classmates.  How would you describe them?  What words would you use?  Those images and words left an imprint in your mind and that is how you remember those people, but is that who they really are—then or now?  Probably not, but it is hard to imagine them any other way.  Images and words are powerful.

If the goal of the yearbook staff was to make all the students feel included they should be commended because who among us does not want to be included.  The problem is they chose to separate and highlight instead of including these students in the regular activities of the high school.  Instead of creating a “special” section in the yearbook for these students, these students should have been shown with the rest of the students.  After all, they were a part of the student body too.

Mistakes are mistakes, but we should learn from mistakes.  Hopefully the school took the time to use this situation and help these students understand what the issue really was about.  The issue is about how powerful images and words can be in separating and devaluing others—knowingly or unknowingly.  People want to be known and remembered as the individuals that God created them to be.  People do not want to be remembered as “retarded”, “deaf and blind”, “crippled”, “queer”, or any other term meant to separate and devalue.  People want to be remembered as Bob, who play sports, loved movies, and supported the school’s athletic teams . . . or Betty who sang in the school choir, was in pep club, and loved going to the school dances.  Don’t we all want to be remembered for who we are . . . not some label or descriptive word?  That is what a yearbook should be about.