“Listen to the mustn'ts, child.
Listen to the don'ts.
Listen to the shouldn'ts, the impossibles, the won'ts.
Listen to the never haves, then listen close to me:
Anything can happen, child. Anything can be.”
~Shel Silverstein
As
long as I can remember, I've paid attention to whole pictures.
Everything in a picture matters--foreground, background, details--and
affects the principal thing.
Some things enhance. Others distract, overpower, and even amuse.
Do the television anchors, meteorologists, and hosts, who are now reporting from
home, know that placing a plant behind them makes it look like they
have something growing out of their heads?
Do they know that some
viewers are paying attention to everything from photos, paintings, book
titles, posters, and furniture?
Sometimes, things are arranged purely for decoration, because they're liked, or have some meaning or significance. But do viewer's perceptions matter? Is there consideration or discussion about what people, armed with their own experiences, see when invited into another person's space? Are the optics meant to invite, tease, defy, alienate, anger, educate, or spark dialogue? Is the intention to be impressive, daring, provocative, offensive, or decorative?
Does dismissing, minimizing, or ignoring the optics, in order to hear the message, demand discipline, grace, maturity, or naiveté?
One setting, for a live presentation, made me pause. It made me reiterate to myself how racism has been so effective in tainting even things that are, in and of themselves, innocent and harmless.
There on my screen this afternoon, was beloved actor, LeVar Burton. Depending on your experience, he's either Kunta Kinte, Toby, Geordi, or the uber-enthusiastic, wide-eyed "Reading Rainbow" guy.
There he was, a baby boomer; a Black man, reading the work of the late author, poet, and artist, Shel Silverstein. Behind him was a painting of two Black girls, eating from the same large slice of watermelon.
On a table was a vase filled with flowering cotton.
My first thought was "Noooooooooooooooo!"
It's not that I have a problem with watermelon. I love watermelon and, frankly, can't wait to enjoy a bowl full (seeded, no salt, and with a knife, please).
I'm a woman of a certain age, so cotton, with it's breathable quality, is my cherished friend.
I love Art. (Have you met me?)
I'm all for indoor plants, too.
Still, the optics seemed so embarrassing, uncomfortable, and problematic.
Why?
I wondered if anyone else had a similar reaction.
I realized it was my issue. I had to examine myself. I needed to know whether my reaction was a result of what I was taught, or a product of what I truly believed.
Was
it just me wondering who thought the collective items were a good idea?
Frankly, I'm strangely happy for those over whose heads the image flew;
who didn't grow up during my era; who will never understand why what I
saw made me recoil and laugh nervously, at the same time.
I envy their cognitive dissonance; even their
willful ignorance. I, however, couldn't unsee the background. It was
screaming, yelling, taunting, and shouting--daring me, the daughter of
parents born in the deep South, to be offended.
I
couldn't hear what was being said for wondering if there was some
subliminal message I was supposed to get.
Was there an African-American
artist, who specialized in primitive art, who I should google?
Was I to
explore the benefits of cotton, as an effective indoor house plant to have, during
a pandemic? Should I swap out my peace lilies and philodendrons?
Was I supposed to find a Shel Silverstein quote that
explained the irony of it all?
Was I supposed to just stop thinking so hard, and
enjoy the poetry?
I wrote my own poem instead.
Being Black in America is an adventure.
Perhaps the goal is to redefine, reclaim, re-purpose, laugh at, and master the art of ignoring everything deliberately designed to be offensive, triggering, and demeaning.
You know.
Pick your battles.
Lighten up, right?
Ummm hmmm.
TROPE DECOR
Little Black girls sharing fruit?
Flowers plucked up by the root?
Whose tastes did they try to suit?
Racist tropes are resolute
Why not just enjoy the show-
Ignore optics, eyelids low?
Kept on scrolling.
Had to go
Surely, someone had to know
Not just fruit, but watermelon
Did anybody try to tell them?
Cotton--vase, or field won't sell them
Why not choose what won't repel them
When the offender's one of us
So clueless, none cares to discuss
What's left but to sigh in disgust?
Tone deafness makes you wanna cuss
So, some children missed the story
Parents searched for inventory
Taught why tropes don't deserve glory
From History, painful and gory
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