Halloween as History Lesson

This is my first day back at work after a weeklong vacation. I expected at least 1,500 e-mails when I logged on to my work computer this morning. But a message from my boss made my jaw drop.

Every year my colleagues at the state agency at which I work dress up for Halloween and compete in a chili cookoff. This year my boss suggested that we dress up in 1950s style, a la “Happy Days.” The women would wear poodle skirts and sweaters with pony tails. The men would wear pompadours, duck tails, leather jackets, and jeans.

After closing my mouth, my first thought was, “HELL NO!”

I sent copies of the e-mail to my siblings. My older brother advised that I “just say no.” Indeed, I am doing just that.

My older sister T1 was blunter. She said the ‘50s “were not great for black people.”

That is true. The 1950s were a bleak period of African-American history. Jim Crow was thriving. Emmett Till, a young black teen, was brutally murdered in August 1955 for allegedly whistling at a white woman in Mississippi. Four months later on December 1, 1955, Rosa Parks refused to give up her seat at the front of the “colored section” to a white passenger. Her arrest prompted Montgomery, Alabama’s, black community to launch a successful yearlong bus boycott. Montgomery’s buses were desegregated on December 21, 1956.

Although U.S. Supreme Court declared racial desegregation in schools was unconstitutional in the Brown vs. Board of Education, Topeka, Kan., decision in May 1954, the memo must not have reached Arkansas state officials, who tried to block nine high school students from entering Central High School in Little Rock in 1957.

Racial injustices were not limited to the South. In California, there were hundreds of communities that had covenants, conditions, and restrictions (CC&Rs) excluding African-Americans, Jews, Hindus, Eastern Europeans, and Asian-Americans from living in those neighborhoods. I learned San Lorenzo had such CC&Rs when I was a reporter for a San Francisco Bay Area newspaper. Stephen Maganini of The Sacramento Bee wrote a September 12, 2005, article about an Assembly Bill that addressed such racist language in past CC&Rs. Arden Park in North Sacramento had such restrictions.

I realize my boss is trying to raise morale, as my younger sister T2 suggested, by having us all dress up. However, having a Halloween costume theme based on the “Happy Daze” of the 1950s is racially and historically offensive. And I will have no part in it.

My idea was to wear a purple SEIU Local 1000 t-shirt and a pair of distressed (read: holey) jeans and come to work as I am – a disgruntled state worker. Under the circumstances of furloughs and job cuts, I think a disgruntled state worker is scarier than Freddy Krueger or Jason from “Friday the 13th.”

Writing Diva

The Official Story

“You can’t handle the truth!”
Jack Nicholson as Col. Nathan Jessep in “A Few Good Men”

At this writing I am supposed to be packing my things for a two-night church women’s retreat at Northstar-at-Tahoe. But I’m not going after all.
The “official story” I gave my prospective roommate and another attendee is that I’m cramping badly from my period. It’s true, I have cramps. But an 800-mg. dose of Motrin would have shot it down easily.
The real story is that I have had problems arranging a ride to the retreat. I have called people, sent e-mails, put out feelers. My 1995 Honda Civic broke down three years ago just three-quarters of a mile short of the Squaw Valley exit. Conchita, as I call my coche, will not make the trip, even with an oil change.
When I opened an e-mail from an attendee who is driving my roommate to the retreat saying that there may not be room for me, I saw one word: hassle. The word “hassle” is the equivalent of waving a red cape in front of a bull. When I travel, I plan carefully to avoid as much hassle as possible. So, upon reading her e-mail, I said to myself, “¡Ya basta!” I’m not scrambling to find a way to Northstar-at-Tahoe. It’s humiliating to have to ask people for help, in this case, a ride. It’s not worth my peace of mind.
Yes, I’m out $92 for the room, which is a bargain at a beautiful resort. But it’s a lesson to me to have all my ducks in a row before going anywhere. I must depend on myself.
But back to the topic at hand. I tell lies of a sort. Yes, I am having cramps from a menstrual period I haven’t had in more than eight months. Again, that is the “official story.” If I choose not to do something, I will tell people I don’t know well “a truth.” But it’s not necessarily the reason why I’m not doing something. That reason is “the truth.”
For example, I am a volunteer with an organization related to my work. I work closely with an insensitive, overbearing, micromanaging woman. I take registrations for the organization’s monthly programs. But I don’t attend the programs. The “official story” is that I have a lot of work to do at the office, which is true. The “real story” is that I can’t stand working with that woman and if I’m left alone with her, I may do something that would have my attorney sister representing me before a judge and jury. The real story would hurt the woman’s feelings and jeopardize my working relationship with the organization’s board members. So, I stick to the official story.
I tell my siblings, youngest nephew, and close friends the “real story.” I feel comfortable with them, and they can handle it, especially if I say it gently. But those outside that circle get the “official story.” I know, it’s not what Jesus would want. But not many people, as Col. Jessep said, can truly handle the truth.
Writing Diva