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"It's
a tried and true way of dealing with people or nations that the
ruling elite finds troublesome or inconvenient -- whoever gets in
our way. They're simply lumped into the enemy pile. "
"I'm
glad the major labels have dwindled to a few, because
they still to this day turn out music that's more or less
all about the money. But whatever -- I understand their
job is to sell product. That's what they do. There are
some good bands that come out on major labels, but the
majority of it is crap."
"I
crawled out of the car through the sunroof and peered
into the linear glow of homeward-bound automobiles. People
began to shout, frustrated and immobilized in their synthetic
shells." |
by Amy Bass They don't get it, I wanna scream, I wanna breathe again, “Does this mean I don't have a voice?” The question rather stunned me. It was from one 18-year-old, first-time voter, student at The College of New Rochelle. My first response was “You can't win them all.” And I knew it was not good enough. We are young despite the years we are concern I am amazed by how many people think they know what my voice is. People assume that I voted for John Kerry. They are right: I have no problem sharing that with you. I did: I voted for John Kerry. But why does anyone assume that I did? I also have been told by many media organs that I am part of a “blue state.” Whether you voted for John Kerry or Ralph Nader or George W. Bush, you are part of that “blue state” also. What does that mean? What does that say about your voice? According to pundits and pollsters, it means that the majority of America , those deemed “value voters” by news media, consider your moral compass to be “off.” It means you do not care about terrorism. Imagine telling New Yorkers that they do not care about terrorism. Now imagine saying that from a field in Iowa. Vested interest united ties, landed gentry rationalize Has my voice been taken away from me? I hope not. But I spent a long time talking with students, colleagues, and friends, all of whom had approached me and wanted to talk about what to do in the post-election haze. Many people, apparently, logged onto the web. Canada reports that its main immigration website had six times its usual visitors since Bush's re-election. Me? I went to see R.E.M., to listen to what Michael Stipe announced as our State of the Union address, and to remember to “Walk Unafraid.” Hey, kids, where are you? Nobody tells you what to do, baby. Whether or not this past election was a referendum on something called “two Americas ” I do not know. I didn't think it was, not until I watched the follow-up that told me that the rest of America -- those who lived in “red” areas -- thought that those of us who lived in “blue” areas were too far gone, too accepting, too liberal, too -- well -- you watched the news. You know. Of course, this majority that tells us what we are, what we will be, is only 51%. It is not resounding and it is not definitive. It is a majority that needs to listen to the minority, and it means that this minority, this “blue” 48% needs to make itself heard. The time to rise has been engaged/You're better best to rearrange Easy? Not necessarily. There is a difference in being loud and being heard, a difference that I began to think about after seeing Eve Ensler's new play, The Good Body , a few weeks ago. Ensler, of course, is the writer/performer/activist who created a global movement to end violence against women with her play The Vagina Monologues. In her new work, she expands her thoughts on the female body, expounding on Botox, ice cream, burkhas, plastic surgery, Cosmopolitan magazine, and so on. Sitting in the audience next to my colleague, Dr. Cynthia Kraman, I felt a sense of relief as I watched Ensler reveal the stories of women she has spoken with from around the world, glad that as she gave them voice, she offered me one, too. Life's rich demand creates supply in the hand/Of the powers, the only vote that matters Regardless of if you like living in a “blue state” or if you wish you lived in a “red state,” I beg you to ensure that the voice you are being assigned is your own, even if you need someone else to help you express it. Now I don't believe and I never did/That two wrongs make a right. But whatever you do, please do not come to my office and ask me if you have a voice. Know that you have a voice. Question, rather, how to find it, express it, make it stronger, make it informed. Figure out how you know what you know. Figure out who is telling you what. Decide to agree. Decide to disagree. Change your mind, and know that it is okay to do so. And do not let someone tell you what you believe in because you are “blue” or “red” or any other color on a map. Eve Ensler taught me new ways to think about that. R.E.M. reassured me of it. I wish the followers would lead/with a voice so strong it could knock me to my knee And now to you. 22 June 05 Amy Bass is an assistant professor of history at the College of New Rochelle. She's also the author of Not the Triumph but the Struggle: The 1968 Olympics and the Making of the Black Athlete and the recently released In The Game: New Essays on Race, Identity, and Sports. So don't step to her unless you got game. Lots of it.
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