A Minority Among Minorities

Today, cities across the country are celebrating the LGBT community. Not being a person with a particularly strong appetite for parades and festivities, though, I thought I'd contribute to Pride with a brief note about what makes the gay community unique in my mind.

The media has a (justifiable) tendency to compare the gay community to other minorities. Debate about same sex marriage inevitably leads to a comparison to interracial marriage. When the topic is gays in the military, the comparison is to women gaining the right to serve. For each item on the gay agenda, (Yes; there is a gay agenda. Full equality is at the top of the list...) other minorities have had to make a comparable struggle.

There is a fundamental difference, though. And this difference is what makes progress on gay rights issues seem so painfully, heartbreakingly slow.

Suppose I am an African American man. Most likely, I was raised by African American parents. I was taught from a young age about the history of my race and the challenges we have faced through the generations, from the days of slavery through the election of our first African American president. And if I wasn't taught those things by my parents, I learned about them at school. I am aware that there are still people around who hate me for the color of my skin, but I have also learned that there is nothing inherently wrong with me as a person because of it. It is something about which I should feel proud.

Now let's suppose I am a gay man. (That shouldn't be too hard.) I was raised by straight parents. I was told from a young age that I was also straight. There were very clear expectations about how I would grow up, who I would date, what would be appropriate for me to like and dislike, and how it would be appropriate for me to act. Only once my high school years were already waning would I even begin to fathom that I might not conform to this model, that I might actually not be straight. My own internalized homophobia ensured that even after this realization, I wouldn't come to accept myself for some time.

This isn't supposed to be a lamentation about how hard gay people have it. Hell no. Because today's gay community has it a LOT better than they used to. The point of my two parallel stories about growing up is that a person from any other minority naturally assimilates the details of their minority's history and struggles. Armed with that knowledge, they are ready from a young age to be able to advocate for themselves against intolerance and express the pride they rightly feel in their community.

Gay people are automatically born apart from their community. It takes them years to gain knowledge of the history of their community, if they ever gain it at all. And the leap to the next step, to actually feel pride in their community, and to be able to fight for its rights in a meaningful way, is even more unlikely and remarkable.

The history of my community survives only as long as gay people continue to come out, to connect with each other, and to pass on the stories about what others in our community have done.

And it is because of this fact that Pride is so important.

Without Pride--without the visible presence of our community actively engaged in the world, the closeted teenagers in all corners of the globe have no hope, because they have nothing to pin their hope on--no role models, no stories, no history, and no community.

Our community's struggle for full equality is agonizingly slow. Despite the seemingly insurmountable structural barriers that keep us from making meaningful progress, though, we still push forward. I grew up in a more tolerant, accepting community than those who came before me. And it's even less difficult for today's youth than it was for me.

Since the comparisons between the gay community and other minorities are probably not going to end any time soon, I'll close with the classic MLK quote: "The arc of history is long, but it bends toward justice..."

Dilution for Dummies

Wikipedia, that ever-reliable source of quasi-factual information, says that "dilution" may refer to reducing the concentration of a chemical. Since I've performed nine chemistry laboratory experiments in the past five weeks, I'd say I have a pretty good idea what dilution is and how it is achieved.

Suppose you have 1 mL of a .01 M solution of NaOH in a beaker. Then you pipette in 9 mL of deionized water. Now you have a .001 M solution of NaOH. Ta-da! Dilution in action! The NaOH solution was more concentrated before, and now it's less concentrated!

WAIT! Since the solution is now less concentrated, that means it's weaker. The dilution of the solution has reduced its ability to pack a punch.

Now's the part where I tell you that this post isn't actually about chemistry. I don't know if you saw this article in the New York Times today, but I did. And it SHOCKED me. According to the Times,

In top suburban schools across the country, the valedictorian, a beloved tradition, is rapidly losing its singular meaning as administrators dispense the title to every straight-A student rather than try to choose the best among them.

The article goes on to document schools in which there are ten, twenty, even THIRTY valedictorians per class. Okay, so a third of your graduating class gets to call themselves "the best." But what does that even mean, when there are so many others? At the end of the day, the once-coveted valedictory distinction has been reduced to a hollow, meaningless accolade.

In other words, the value of being a valedictorian at these schools has been diluted. Diluted to the point of meaninglessness.

This alarming overabundance of valedictorians seems to be part of a larger trend in education. The need to confer "best-ness" upon students who are simply mediocre, whether it's by re-centering the SAT for the zillionth time, by expanding the roster of valedictorians, or simply by average, run-of-the-mill grade inflation, is wreaking serious havoc on people's ability to succeed after school.

On the phone last night, my brother and I tried to unearth the roots of the (relatively mild but definitely real) quarterlife crisis each has experienced in our mid-twenties. A lot of it seemed to stem from our perception during college of what the real world would be like. We spent our time in school preparing for what we wanted to do afterward. We had always been told by our teachers, our parents, by the American Dream itself, that we could do anything we put our minds to. You can be THE BEST. Look at our GPAs! Look at our SAT scores! Look at our great accomplishments during college!

What we had never been told about the real world was that in addition to pursuing those things that you WANT to do, and that you had been trained and encouraged to pursue for years, there are other things that you HAVE to do. There are certain baseline, required activities that must be attended to, or your life becomes unsustainable. If you don't buy groceries, you don't eat. Or on a grander scale, if you don't set out some long-term goals and instead just live day-to-day, you're going to end up 30 years old without any stability, relationship prospects, money, or a future.

Now that I'm back in school, I have firsthand evidence that the illusion of perfection continues to be perpetuated in today's educational system. Case in point: last semester's statistics class. I put less effort into that class than any of my other three. I learned practically nothing about statistics.

Yet my grade for the semester was an A-plus. And like the valedictorians in the Times article, I was one of many A-pluses in the class. So what does my A-plus even mean? Does it mean I learned statistics? No. Does it mean I did better than the other kids in the class? No. All it means is that I get to wallow in the diluted illusion of my own perfection for a little longer.

Tornadoes!

There are some days when even the most carefully laid plans get blown to smithereens by a tornado. A tornado, of course, being any inconvenient wrench that gets thrown in well-oiled machinery of your day. In just the past two days, I've been a sympathetic ear to countless tornado victims.

• A cash-strapped, always-on-the-run friend of mine woke up to a car that wouldn't start.

• My dad got an unexpected and hugely dramatic business phone call, and was on a plane across the country in a matter of hours.

• A pregnant friend of mine went into labor.
  

And if you were in Bridgeport, CT, yesterday, your life got turned upside down by an ACTUAL tornado. The national weather service confirmed today that an EF-1 tornado touched down in the middle of the city during a series of strong thunderstorms that rocked much of the area.

(Yes, that's a highway billboard sign sitting on top of that building...)

So what do you do about a tornado making a dramatic entrance in your life? As far as I can tell, it boils down to the old "lemonade out of lemons" argument. Trying to see the silver lining, and all that.

Of course, I admit it's not always possible to turn something bad into something good. But sometimes it's not too much of a stretch. My friend with the busted car was stoked to be riding her bike more often. My dad may have a new business opportunity. And my pregnant friend? She's got a freakin' BABY!

Here's a video clip of a tornado touching down at the Kennedy Center in Washington, DC:



Okay, okay. That was Liza Minelli. It's a bit of a stretch to call HER a tornado. But, this is my blog, so I make the rules. Besides, that video is one of my favorites. So deal with it. (And LOVE it.)

Yay?

Hooray?

For some time, Columbia has been buying up chunks of land north of its Morningside Heights campus, around 125th St. & Broadway. The plan is to create a satellite campus abutting the Hudson River, within walking distance of the main campus.

Only problem? This is Manhattan; there are already buildings there. Columbia has been fighting an increasingly ugly eminent domain battle in the courts over the past months. They've tried to claim that the land is "blighted," and thus fair game for acquisition. The people who live and work there have disagreed, and quite vocally.

According to the New York Times article above, Columbia just won its appeal and is going to be able to give the boot to the few remaining tenants in the neighborhood. Those include a couple gas stations and a few self-storage buildings. No big deal, right? As a Columbia student, I should be totally jazzed.

Well, I kind of feel like I'm the kid in the class who got the highest score, but noticed later on that my test's grader added up the points wrong and I should have gotten a lower score.

In other words, I feel kind of guilty!

Every week, I take the 1-train uptown to Columbia-Presbyterian, where I volunteer in the surgery department videotaping surgeries. For a brief handful of blocks, the 1-train emerges from underground and passes by this "blighted" swath of land. This is what I see from the subway car window:


In case you can't read it, the sign on the building says, "STOP COLUMBIA! We won't be pushed out!"

This is a University with some serious town-gown relationship problems. I'm all for the expansion of academia. I'm even for the use of eminent domain in some situations. Especially after the Atlantic Yards project sailed through the courts last year, it seemed more than reasonable that an institution of higher learning should certainly win an eminent domain battle if a basketball franchise could.

But what we've ended up with is a mess. The community isn't happy with the University, and with good cause. New Yorkers are being forced to abandon their fair share of the American Dream. At the end of the day, Columbia may get a whole lot of cheap real estate out of this. But they lose something, too. The tension that already exists between the largely sheltered, privileged Columbia students who breeze into the neighborhood for a brief four years and the hardened New Yorkers who have been in the neighborhood their whole lives will only be exacerbated.

It's a long-term problem that won't go away once the shiny new buildings are erected. I'll take that high score on the test because it'll help my GPA right now. But once I'm forced to recall that material on the MCAT in a year, I'll wish I had done the right thing from the beginning.

All Aboard!

I'm starting this blog, as I start most things in my life, with low expectations and high hopes. That way, if I don't post anything for a week, I don't need to commit seppuku; and if the occasional cyber-passerby reads one of the entries I do post, I'll be pleased as punch. It's a win-win situation.

As I said, I like to start most things in my life this way. It keeps me highly motivated and deeply satisfied when I reach a goal, and it also ensures that I don't beat myself up when things don't go as planned. This philosophy may be the fuel for my optimism.

As far as why I'm starting this blog? Who knows. Why does anyone start a blog?

In my head, that was a rhetorical question, but after re-reading it, I think it deserves an answer. After all, you've read this far. I may as well stoke your curiosity to read on.

Blog Ingredients:

• Politics: When I read a story that I find particularly interesting, I immediately want to share it. Slapping it up on my gchat status or as a link on my facebook page is only half satisfying, though. I can share the content, but I don't have much space to soak it in glorious liberal bias. This will be a venue where I can add my voice to the echo chamber.
  
  
• School & Medicine: I've just finished my first year of a postbac program to prepare me to go to med school. (Isn't it a natural segue to work three years in the theatre industry and then decide to become a doctor?) As I learn more about this world I've chosen to become a part of, I'll want to share my feelings and discoveries.
  
  
• Theatre Gossip: There's always room in life for a little bit of juicy NYC theatre industry drama. Keeps things interesting. I'll comment on shows I've seen, on casting choices, and on all that other stuff I claim not to pay attention to anymore...
  
  
• Miscellaneous Rants: I included this category because I'm sure that a week from now I'll have completely changed my intentions for this blog. You'll hardly recognize it. If I'm even still posting.
  
  
• (not so) Secret Ingredient: Getting my thoughts "on paper" forces me into self-reflection and keeps me a little more grounded than I would be otherwise.

So, there it is. I don't expect you to read on.

But I hope you do.