Paris Journal 2009 – Barbara Joy Cooley Home: barbarajoycooley.com
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Several years ago, I was in the middle of reading The Haygoods of Columbus, Wil Haygood’s autobiography, when we arrived in Paris at the beginning of our summer. I finished the book, and noticed a similar autobiography, Colored People, on the shelves in the apartment. It was Henry Louis Gates, Jr.’s memoir. I read it next. So, it was in this apartment in Paris that I first got to know Henry Louis Gates, Jr. After finishing his book, I read every article by him and about him that I saw ever since. Same with Haygood. But if you gave me a choice of having a long lunch with either Wil Haygood or Henry Louis Gates, Jr., I’d choose Haygood any day. I like his personality and judgment much better. Both are black men who are of similar age who grew up in not so great circumstances in more-or-less the middle of the country. Both are talented writers, although I prefer Haygood’s style. In recent years, both have lived in Cambridge, although Haygood is now in the D.C. area. There are important differences between the two men. Haygood is a journalist, and Gates is an academic. Haygood is tall and played some basketball; Gates is short and definitely not athletic because he’s had physical limitations since childhood. Today I read Stanley Fish’s column on the recent Gates controversy, and I listened to D.L. Hughley’s radio show commentary on the same subject. Aha, I see here that Haygood has written a column about the Gates incident. I’ll read that, too. I’m back. While I am sympathetic to Fish’s argument, I have to agree one-hundred percent with D. L. Hughley. And I also agree with Haygood, who understands the anger that propelled Gates into using “words flying on that wind that can’t be taken back.” Fish says that other academics in the English Department at Duke University thought Gates was a charlatan and a fraud. Fish thinks that was racism. My husband Tom (B.A. in English from Duke; M.A. and Ph.D. in English from Indiana University) thinks that believing Gates is a charlatan and a fraud as an academic is NOT necessarily racism. It could be, but it might not be. I’m no expert in literary theory or pedagogy or African American studies, so I’m not going there. Tom and D. L. Hughley both state adamantly that to say this recent incident between the policeman and Gates shows that “nothing has changed” is preposterous. Tom says, for one thing, this incident landed immediately on the desk of the President. That, in and of itself, is a huge change from the past. D. L. Hughley, similarly, says that to say “nothing has changed” is not to recognize reality. He says that much has changed, and “we’re on the verge of something truly beautiful here” in the U.S. I have no doubt that Gates experienced all the humiliations that Fish carps about in his column. And it was wrong that he had to experience those humiliations that were borne of racism. There are a couple of facts about the incident that have not appeared in many of the articles about it. One is that Gates had just returned from a trip to CHINA when he had to ask the taxi driver to help him with opening the front door which was stuck because it had been damaged in a break-in at some time in the recent past. China to Cambridge? That is some serious jet-lag. Gates and the taxi driver were each carrying backpacks, according to Hughley. Hughley asked Gates if the neighbor who had called the police was someone who knew him. No, Gates said, the neighbor did not know him. So, Hughley maintains, the policeman was being perfectly reasonable when he asked for some identification. Gates, knowing that he was seriously jet lagged, should have thought to remember that he was so tired, and should have even mentioned that fact to the policeman in order to explain any testiness that the cop might hear in Gate’s voice. Still, it was the policeman who was on duty here, and who was supposed to act professionally. If Gates had to respond with rage, he should have explained why he was so tired and angry. Hughley says that where he comes from, everyone knows that when you talk crazy to a cop you end up in jail. And that goes for white people, too. I learned that as a teenager. I never ended up in jail, but I was in a car once with two friends (white males) in the parking lot of a church where we’d just started a coffeehouse for teens. These two friends had been bullied by the police in the past, and when a policeman pulled up to ask just what we were doing there, I started to be mouthy. My two friends immediately signaled to me to be silent. They knew we’d all end up in jail if I kept talking. Even though one should be able to, one simply does not talk back to cops because some of them are unprofessional, or sometimes they have a bad day, and they can put you in jail for no good reason. Everyone should know this; no matter what color you are, this is useful information to act on. Haygood clearly knows this; it is apparent in his column. My parents had not taught me this lesson. My father, in fact, had been demoted in the Army Air Force for talking back to a superior officer. Fortunately, my two friends (the white males mentioned above) had taught me this lesson before the day when the Madeira, Ohio, police picked me up as I walked to the park. I was polite and went along with them even though they had no good reason at all to stop me and detain me. I didn’t act up, so all they could do was call my mother. They claimed that I matched the description of a runaway they were looking for. My mother didn’t believe them at all. She was clearly annoyed with them. I think I just matched the description of “possible hippie with long hair and blue jeans.” Yes, surely if I were a black male these kinds of things would have happened to me more often. Or worse. But surely we are all better off following D. L. Hughley’s axiom of not talking crazy to cops. It was also a good thing that I’d learned this lesson before the day (1971 or 72?) when I accompanied my boyfriend to the courthouse at Lebanon, Ohio, where he needed to file paperwork to get the title of a Volkswagen that had been abandoned at a gas station in Warren County. My boyfriend (well, he was one of my boyfriends at the time) was Gradual, a talented African American musician and re-builder of Volkswagen engines. Warren County had been, in the not distant past, the national headquarters of the KKK. If we’d been questioned by one of the many sherriff’s deputies at the courthouse and if I’d been mouthy, I could have caused a very bad situation for my boyfriend. Actually, we avoided the whole possibility by having me wait in the car while he went inside. I don’t mean to sound as though I’m afraid of or don’t trust the police. I trust them absolutely, probably even in situations where I should not. I respect them, and I know that I depend on them for safety and security. I just don’t scream at them or even use sarcasm when talking to them, ever, no matter what. The police here in Paris have been extremely nice to us on the few occasions that we’ve interacted with them. When Tom was assaulted by a violent pickpocket many years ago, the couple of police, a man and a woman, who took our report at the neighborhood station were very sympathetic and took a lot of time with us. When I was stopped by a French policeman who was doing crowd control at a demonstration (we were just attempting to walk by the demonstration to get to the street beyond), I simply said that I was an American, and he waved me on my way as if I were royalty. I’ve asked French policemen questions on maybe two occasions, to find out what was happening around us on the Paris streets, and each time received polite answers. But if one of them made me angry? If one of them treated me unfairly? No way would I yell at them. I don’t like the idea of being in a French jail. Or any jail. The local papers report that police in the Paris region are frequently accused of racial profiling and overreaction. This is not a problem unique to American cities. But all French people who are bien elevée seem to know that it isn’t a good idea to scream at a cop. I’ve never seen anyone yell at a cop in Paris. And I think French people understand that cops shouldn’t arrest people for screaming at them. This is just common sense. I’d say both men were wrong. Look at the mess they’ve made, at a time when we don’t need this mess. Over a glass of good French wine in a Cambridge café, each should apologize to the other and we should all move on. P.S. – I purposefully do not use the policeman’s name because I think he’d prefer to go back to being not famous. I seriously doubt that is true of Henry Louis Gates, Jr. Most academics I’ve known who have reached anything like his rank truly enjoy the attention. And Gates in particular, well, I’ve read his memoir. He likes fame. |
Monday, July 27, 2009
City of Paris poster: “On the terrace of the café and
restaurant, respect the peace and quiet of the neighbors. When you drink or smoke on the terrace, be
discrete!”
The grotto and small lake with waterfall at the base of
the Eiffel Tower.
Tree by the lake near the base of the tower.
Carp and ducks help to keep the lake clean.
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