The First Visit, the Ice Broke Me

 I was full of excitement, ready for my first, real journalistic experience. Kat, the supervisor of Platinum Boyz Baber Shop in Morningside, had granted me green light so I hit the road and got my destination. 

Morningside is not the typical black neighborhood. It is dissected by a nice segment of Biscayne Blvd where all kinds of nice businesses flourish.  Platinum Boyz blends in the block, which ethnicity is difficult to define. 

Morningside has a historical value because it emerged as a pillar of the MiMo architectural movement in the 1920s. Real Estate in small pockets of Morningside is actually skyrocketing.  Therefore, the authorities keep this major artery and other spots well presentable. However, the landscape drastically changes just turning in any direction on any corner.  The combination of low-income and black presence is obvious then. The contrast is somehow shocking.

Two men were sitting in the tables by the sidewalk at the perimeter of the barber shop. I passed by and said, “Hi”. As soon as I grabbed the doorknob, one of them a big, black guy intercepted me. “Can I help you”, he asked.  I introduced myself as the student journalist who had talked to Kat. “Kat is not here but come with me”, he kindly said. My host took me inside and walked me to one of the six barber chairs –the only one that was not in service located at the end of the row - and told me, “Have a seat”. The chair had on top a big bag of hair-cutting tools and other devices he removed for me to seat down. I have to say that looked a little awkward to me; but, I sat down anyway. He left the store right after.

An on-duty barber was narrating a story that had everyone around engaged: the three costumers sitting in the waiting area, the co-workers, and the costumers receiving service. The story was evidently about some argument with a sort of enemy from the past. The teller emphasized the seriousness of the event with his body language. I was confined   to the back of the room. I and the barber in front of me  -working on a kid- seem to be in a whole different world. I spoke to him for several minutes; but, he looked Hispanic and was working with the only white people in the premise. 

I barely could understand the potential story occurring at the front. The speaker pumping loud Hip Hop music was right behind me and the distance from the action was also considerable. So, I decided to move to the waiting area at the front. 

I exchanged handshakes with two of the barbers and introduced myself and traded little salutes with the costumers. Jon and James avidly introduced themselves. About one minute later the third barber finished talking and started to throw questions on me, which I found kind of normal. “So, you are a student? Where do you study? What are you looking for?” Right after, I asked him his name to which he replied “Bubble, Bubble is my name because I live in a bubble world”.  “Oh, good to meet you Bubble”, I said while shaking his hand.  Everybody else was sort of surprised or puzzled. They displayed short smiles followed by a silence that lasted for several minutes.

All of the sudden, the three barbers started to speak Creole. I didn’t imagine these guys were of Haitian origin. The costumers remained silent as the Creole chatting continued. 

Bubble came back to me in English and told me, “You missed all the action. All the news people were here already, including the channel 7”. “What happened”, I asked. “I am not gonna tell you. If you wanna have stories, you should go to the salon next door. I can give you their number”. “I don’t think so, I am good here”, I replied. 

I stood for probably another fifteen minutes. They barely responded to my attempts to establish a topic. Jon, the oldest of the three barbers, actually told me, “I don’t want to talk to you”. Shawn, the man who welcomed me at the door returned. He was less apathetic than the rest. I decided it was time for me to leave. I thought maybe I pushed a little bit too much already. I went by each of them shaking hands and saying bye, including the rough Bubble who surprisingly drew a smile. 

I felt I was in the eye of a hurricane.  I guess I did something wrong or many perhaps. The fact is that I still don’t know if it was me or this is just the way this is supposed to happen. I feel terribly frustrated and confused. The frustration is due to the fact that I could not get a story. On the other hand, I feel my experience is a story.

One thing I can tell. I will be back soon. I have the intuition it is going to be way different next time. They already know I am coming back. 

I tried to break the ice but the ice broke me. 


http://www.platinumboyzbarbers.com/

Colored People?

At the beginning of the class Prof. Reisner played an audio on the Implicit Biased Study and it was a good start for me. In the first interview, the lady referred to the "color people". I was very glad this came out because this is something I have always thought about. Isn't the terms "color people" or "people of color" implicitly racist? It is for me.

When I hear this terms, I have the perception that "color people" is a synonym of "the other peoples". Why? Well, it is very simple. "People of color" is used for any race or physical appearance other than the white Anglo. It feels like being white is OK/normal and having color makes you specific or different, the other. Most whites won't get offended if you call them white.

I've never heard someone saying non-color people or people without color. There is not an equivalent to "color people" for white people. The whole idea is actually wrong. All skins have color. Melanin, the pigment that gives the skin its color, varies from light yellow to dark brown. There are other factors like oxygenation, blood supply and other proteins in the skin that can affect the skin appearance. Therefore, there is no such a thing as white or black skin.

I understand that the term probably began as an alternative not to use black, brown or the like in an attempt for being sensitive. But ultimately, it makes it worse. It looks prejudiced and accents the differences even more. This term feeds the taboos and fears that surround the racial topics.

Janey is not a racist

Last class many things happened. But, one caught my attention the most, probably because I connected to it instantaneously. When Janey said other blacks have called her "white" because of her attitudes, I rapidly reflected on it.

I have noticed that for a certain racial or cultural group not only other groups stereotype but the own group does it as well. The members of the given group expect all individuals to behave according to the cultural traits and mannerisms that form the stereotype. Self stereotyping is probably the worst because no one knows the group's manners better. Any margin of deviation from it is not welcome and the individual is labeled as unequal. Many times this happens in the form of jokes but still it carries the same load of infringement.

I was born and raised in Cuba. Sometimes friends and relatives called me "the European" not because of my physical appearance but for my attitudes. Cubans are expected to be loud, not worried about formalism and norms, and of course, spectacular dancers. I just don't meet the criteria. Or better, I meet it partially. Still enough to be labeled. I'm kind of loud but not loud enough. I do care about others' concerns. And, my dancing is not so good. I don't drink coffee either.

 Just because I preferred Heavy Metal over Salsa, it doesn't mean I'm not Cuban or Cuban enough. In fact, I always, and still do, felt as Cuban as the "Palma Real". 

Personality and behavioral patterns depend on environmental factors such as family upbringing, culture, geography and education. However, all of that is just a part of the being. The individual has his/her own set of preferences, taste, and inclinations people sometimes ignore. So, I'm convinced Janey is not racist at all. She is simply Janey.

Biased?

Are we all biased when it comes to ethnicity? Yes, we are. I think, like Prof. Reisner argued in class, we all have predetermined stereotypes learned at home, with our cultural group, or through media. We rely to stereotypes the most when dealing with people we do not really know. For me, stereotypes assign meaning to the unknown, uncomfortable or even feared.

The problem is that in most cases stereotypes appeal to false or incorrect assumptions that can create or increase conflicts. The exercise in the class demonstrated so. The instructor asked what our thoughts are about Liberty City and most of us responded with simplistic, negative assumptions. The reality is that many of us never spent sufficient time in that location to get to know the people and dynamics of Liberty City.

Intro

I am starting by saying that the first encounter with Mr. Reisner's Multi-Ethnic Reporting class unwrapped what this course is about. I previously thought this was a course pretty much on how to board multi-ethnic reporting from an ethical/legal or even technical stamp point. Those ideas alone made it interesting enough for me.

However, that first meeting revealed the real nature of this course: approaching multi-ethnic reporting from a more humanistic perspective free of biased, preconceived stereotypes in a fearless environment. The good reporter should be able to view through the lens of the different communities and cross the boundaries amongst them.

This is a difficult task for everyone; but, I look forward to check inside and scrutinize myself, struggle, face the unwanted and more than anything learn. I buckled up my seat-belt and I am ready for the ride.