The Modern American Civil War

This is a chart showing trends in homicide rat...
This is a chart showing trends in homicide rates by age from 1970-2003 in the U.S.. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I sat in the movie theater on a Sunday afternoon, tears streaming down my cheeks. The roughness of the concession stand napkin was all I had to staunch my sorrow at the end of Fruitvale Station. The film depicts the last day of 22 year old Oscar, a guy trying to make ends meet in Oakland, CA who was killed by police officers on New Year’s Day in 2008. Unarmed and shot in the back, Oscar’s story resonates with current events surrounding the shooting and subsequent trial of 17 year old Travyon Martin in Florida. Both men were black. Both men were trying to get home. Both were the victims of the use of excessive force.

As sad as Oscar and Travyon’s stories are – particularly to those who knew them well – their deaths represent a unexplored phenomenon in America. That of violence amongst males between the ages of 10-24. The CDC reports that from 1994-2010, the highest homicide rate nationally is in this age group. Perhaps even more alarming is that this group has a “consistently higher than homicide rates for males of all ages combined.”

Violence against each other is killing young men in America. And though this is apparently a 30 year low for the age group overall: the stories from the high risk group are more gripping than ever. Captured by cell phones, championed by social media, and brought to us via the 24 hour news cycle, we are dealing with the aftermath of violence but not the murky causes.

Maybe as my friend suggests, it is guns and racism. Maybe, as I was arguing, while we walked out of the movie theater, it was socialization. Men caught in a fight cannot back down without threatening their masculinity. Does violence then come down to worries about perception?

If you look more closely at the data, the highest casualty rate is among Non-Hispanic, Black men between the ages of 10-24 and when measuring them against themselves, the highest risk group is 20-24 years old.

Watching films like Fruitvale Station or the keeping track of the events in the Zimmerman trial – which had elements reminiscent of cinema despite being heartrendingly real – the unasked question lingers. And it isn’t about race or about guns per se.

Again and again, in scene after scene, we see men who have been taught not to back down in a conflict. The escalation of aggression in American male culture is silent, untreated killer. Guns or racism may be the trigger, but the inability to back down, to bring calm to a situation, to take a step back; manliness is inseparable from the assertion of dominance.

Whether the cop who clings to his authority or the youth who can’t lose face in front of peers, males engaged in a conflict often cannot step aside once it begins.

What do we teach our boys about how to handle conflict? From an early age if a toddler comes crying about someone hitting him on the playground, what are the messages we give him? Later, in teenage years with bullying, we may hope our child is the bully and not the bullied.

As adults, few men have the skills to deal with interpersonal conflict. Women, on the other hand, who was socialized in groups and for consensus, can talk, and talk and talk about or through a problem. Do young women have an inert advantage over men in backing down from escalating aggression that might get them killed? Statistics suggest this might be the case. The CDC reports “There was no difference in homicide rates for females by age.”

You can read more about these staggering numbers relating to male youth homicide and most of the facts are not surprising. Death by firearm is highest among young, black males. The homicide rate of young, white males of the same age group is less than a half of that of black males.

There is a war going on in America. And it has as much to do with how young men interact with each other as what weapons are available to them.

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Wordless Wednesday: Awakening Colors

Awakening Colors CoverI recently had the chance to review Ritu K. Gupta’s Awakening Colors. A lovely read because of the intersections of culture and non-traditional spirituality. If you’re looking for a read with twists and turns and lively characters, this is it!

Rooted to her land of birth, India, and tied to her adoptive country Canada where she has lived for the past 25 plus years, Ritu combines her experiences and beliefs to weave seamless stories that will awaken your imagination and change the way you view the world.

Ritu is committed to working closely with a set of beta readers and her editor to write and publish quality works of fiction.

Besides writing, she loves to read, garden, meditate and to walk. She currently lives in Woodbridge, Ontario with her husband.

Her first book Awakening Colors is available for purchase on Amazon and Kobo.

 

 

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Hierarchy of Sorrow: Boston, Delhi, Damascus

Syria
Syria (Photo credit: ewixx)

 

Last week from a sofa in a hospital room, after having delivered our second baby boy, I woke up at 1 a.m. Adrenaline or jetlag like false sense of sleep saturation had me reaching for my phone in the pitch black of the room. Across the coffee table, a good friend who had volunteered for night duty was resting. The baby was in the nursery. I went on Facebook.

 

The news feed of many of American friends, at home and abroad, was filled with the news of the bombing at the finish line of the Boston marathon. I couldn’t believe my eyes at the photos and had to turn off the phone to stem off the hormonal induced shock at the images, facts, and sounds.

 

As the facts unfolded – 3 dead, many more wounded – a puzzled reaction swept the part of the world I live in, the Middle East.

 

What about people in Syria, Afghanistan, Iraq, was the question circulating on Twitter, Facebook, and the blogosphere. Where is the empathy, shock, horror, concern for them?

 

A former student and now friend posted “I’m sorry to hear about Boston, sorry for all the casualties. Pray for Syria, it deserves far more sympathy. Pray for Syria twice as much!”.

 

Having studied Arabic in Damascus a few years ago, I have been watching the escalating tensions there with dread and anger at a “leader” who would treat his people as pawns.

 

But the assertion of my student made me uncomfortable.

 

Can we weigh on a scale those who are more deserving of empathy? Is it judged by the number of causalities?

 

Or, as mainstream American media seems to suggest, do we rate based on a scale of how the tragedies happen? Are civilians in peace time, running a marathon or going to work, more deserving than those who are living in a country entrenched in civil war?

 

I don’t know. I do know from my hospital bed, recovering from having a baby, that most frail and dependent of creatures, the symbol of all that is possible of humanity, I resisted the notion that my loyalties predict my sympathies and said as much to my friend on his wall:

 

“I understand what you are trying to say but let’s remember our hearts can juggle compassion for all. Clearly the media, government and politics cannot. I stand with Syrians as the land where I learned Arabic and hope that governments will stop turning blind eyes. Sympathy is not a competition. The more we learn that, the more we can come together as one. (not intending to lecture, your post did strike a chord with me as a new mother X2 from this past Sunday). I want my children to live in a compassionate world, better than the bi-partisan one I inherited. Now we pray for Iran, regardless of how we feel about nukes/presidents/etc.”

 

We had a great discussion (yes on Facebook wall posts as he was abroad).

 

Later in the week the question came again on Twitter: “Boston boston. Pls send your view: rape in Delhi why again and again?”

 

The commenter was talking about the rape of a 5 year old girl whose body had been dumped in a dumpster and found with foreign objects, including a candle, inside. I had read of the case with horror and posted about it on social media as well. As an Indian woman, mother, wife, and daughter, I was ashamed, distraught, and troubled by not only this incident but all of them since the watershed December case with a pharmacy student on a bus. Indian media commentators were asking: why did we care so much about her? What about the 5, 6, 10 year olds (and the ones we never know about about)? Don’t we care about them?

 

All of which brings me back to the same question: how much room do we have in our hearts? Can we only care for those who know immediately? Or is there some larger, universal ability to feel compassion that comes with our “advanced” technologies in the era of 24 hour media?

 

I do know when I saw the photo of the 19 year old, Dzhokhar Tsarnaev, the remaining bomb plotter, my heart clenched. Somewhere, something went horribly wrong for this younger brother. I couldn’t help but think of my own boys, presently 2.5 and 1 week old. What would they grow up to do? Would the older one mislead the younger? And could the younger use this as his excuse for wrecking havoc?

In the end, it all comes down to relationships. Right?

 

 

 

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