Over the past couple of days, social media has been a microcosm of everything that's wrong with our current society. First, there was the vile tweet by comedian and actress Roseanne Barr, in which she compared a black woman (Valerie Jarrett) to an ape; there was also an equally vile tweet in which she claimed philanthropist George Soros, who is Jewish, was actually a Nazi collaborator during World War II (he was not, by the way). This was followed the next day by social media outrage over TV comedian and political commentator Samantha Bee, who, in the midst of criticizing Ivanka Trump, called her the C word.
Most (but not all) of the people who were upset with Samantha Bee were conservatives who were furious at her attack on Ivanka, and who saw an opportunity for "whataboutism"-- yes, Roseanne was crude, but what about Samantha Bee? Roseanne's TV show got canceled because of her racist tweet, but what about Samantha Bee (or Bill Maher, for that matter); why are they still on the air, given all the vile remarks they make about the president and his family?
Meanwhile, Roseanne semi-apologized for her attack on Valerie Jarrett, blaming Ambien for her tweet (an excuse the company that makes Ambien found less than convincing); but she didn't apologize for her numerous other bigoted or factually-challenged tweets, including the one with the anti-Semitic attack on George Soros (you may not agree with his politics; but no, he never helped the Nazis, as any reputable fact-checking site can show you).
Before I get accused of partisanship, let me say that Samantha Bee was wrong to use the C word (a word I've never used in my entire life); I'm glad she apologized-- she could just as easily have made her point without using a word that even many feminists find problematic. But as I see it, her crude insult was nowhere nearly as bad as when Roseanne slandered an entire race by comparing them to apes (something, it should be noted, that various bigots liked to do when talking about Barack and Michelle Obama).
But the real issue isn't which celebrity's remarks were worse. The real issue is that we have increasingly become a culture that accepts hateful and vulgar comments, and in some cases, even approves of them. Yes, there is a brief burst of outraged Tweets from partisans; but then, it's on to the next series of outrages. And whether it's on social media or in the White House, making this kind of remark no longer comes with any political cost; and it no longer seems to come with any social cost either. Not that long ago, neither Republicans nor Democrats would use curse words on TV or make crude remarks at public rallies; it would have lost them public support. And while there have been "shock jocks" on radio and TV since the 1980s, even they had lines they would not cross, for fear of being fined or getting fired.
Yet here we are with a president whose base applauds him for using vulgar and hateful rhetoric; even his evangelical Christian supporters won't rebuke him, because they like his stance on appointing conservative judges, or they hope he'll defund Planned Parenthood. And here we are with a culture that gets outraged only if someone from "the other side" says something vulgar, yet they remain silent when someone from "their side" makes even the most bigoted remarks.
Back in 2004, when Judith Martin was "Miss Manners" at the Washington Post, she wrote a good definition of vulgarity. She said it was "one of those lapses of manners that does not arise from
accident or ignorance. Whether it is showing off or showing too much, it
is done to provoke others to envy or disgust." But it's what she said next that still resonates with me: "So, while allowing [vulgarity] to
become commonplace helps dull the reaction, it forces down the standards
with which everyone else has to live."
And that is where we seem to be: unable to see what we are losing as a result of this coarsening of our culture; and unwilling to stop being partisan long enough to say "No" to the degradation of our public discourse. It's easy to blame Roseanne Barr, or Samantha Bee, or Donald Trump-- but a lot of factors have gotten us to this point. And having gotten here, I wonder if there's a way to turn things around-- or will this slide into even more hate and vulgarity continue?
Thursday, May 31, 2018
Tuesday, May 15, 2018
Tryin' to Live My Life Without You
When I was growing up, I wasn't very popular. As I recall, I was the only girl in the senior class at my high school who was not asked to the Senior Prom. I had no boyfriend, but truth be told, I didn't have many friends of either gender. It was not a very tolerant era, and since I was SO different from what a girl of that time was supposed to be, it meant that I spent a lot of time by myself. I had a crush on a guy who lived a couple of streets away from me, but he didn't know (or care) that I existed; and not knowing any other guys I could ask to be my date, I stayed home. Looking back on it now, I probably didn't miss much, plus I saved a lot of money by not having to buy a fancy dress. But at the time, I felt like an outsider. Only my love of rock and roll, and my favorite deejays, helped get me through it.
In college, I found my home at WNEU, the campus radio station; but being a few years ahead of the curve meant I was not welcome yet-- the station did not want (or allow) female deejays. It took me till my senior year to finally get on the air, and to be a radio station music director for the first time. I loved being a deejay (playing people's favorite songs and cheering them up the way the deejays had cheered me up a few years earlier). But I found that I loved music directing almost as much-- I had the opportunity to listen to all the new songs, and help to decide what the station would play.
Through music directing, I came in contact with record company promoters, and made some friends that I still have to this day. This was also the first time I encountered promoters from Canada; they sent me what were then called "imports," in case we wanted to play them. And throughout my radio career, no matter where I worked, I continued to be a music director, and I continued to maintain a good relationship with a number of Canadian record promoters, who introduced me to a lot of interesting new music. Most of it never became popular in the States, but every now and then, a band broke through, and I was gratified to know I had helped to make that happen.
In addition to feeling a sense of pride in helping to "get the ball rolling" for Rush back in 1974, one of the added bonuses for me was all the new friends I met as a result. First and foremost, I became friends with the guys in the band (and even when they became famous, they never forgot what I did for them early in their career). I also became friends with their management. But then came lots of live concert performances, and I began to meet the fans. No matter what city I was in (and I saw Rush play in so many places), the fans always welcomed me. We all shared something in common: we loved a band that the critics generally hated; and we recognized how talented these three guys were when the critics did not.
For more than four decades, I knew that wherever Rush was playing, I would not only be welcomed by the band if I wanted to go backstage, but I would also be welcomed by the fans who came to see them. The fans seemed to recognize me: they would wave, or call my name, or hug me, or in the internet era, they would "friend" me on Facebook. Sometimes, at an event or at a concert, I would see someone with a sign that said "Thank you, Donna Halper." It meant a lot to me.
Sometimes, fans would ask me to speak at a Rush-themed convention, or teach a class about Rush's music; or they wanted to take a "selfie" with me if they saw me somewhere. I'd like to believe that some of these folks might have wanted to be friends with me with or without Rush; but there's no denying that our devotion to Rush is what brought us together and kept us in contact with each other over the years.
And then it all changed. After R40, Neil decided to retire; Alex and Geddy, loyal to the end, were not about to create a new version of Rush without him. These days, while we still have some wonderful Rush tribute bands, what we don't have are live concerts from Rush. I miss those concerts. But I also miss the friendship I shared with the guys, and with the fans. There was a certain camaraderie, a certain warmth, a certain unspoken bond whenever the fans got together for a show. Of course, we were all different: we had different politics, different religious beliefs, different favorite songs. But we could put our differences aside and enjoy being part of the extended Rush family. It was an experience I've never had with any other band (or with any other group of fans). And nearly three years later, it's something I continue to miss.
In college, I found my home at WNEU, the campus radio station; but being a few years ahead of the curve meant I was not welcome yet-- the station did not want (or allow) female deejays. It took me till my senior year to finally get on the air, and to be a radio station music director for the first time. I loved being a deejay (playing people's favorite songs and cheering them up the way the deejays had cheered me up a few years earlier). But I found that I loved music directing almost as much-- I had the opportunity to listen to all the new songs, and help to decide what the station would play.
Through music directing, I came in contact with record company promoters, and made some friends that I still have to this day. This was also the first time I encountered promoters from Canada; they sent me what were then called "imports," in case we wanted to play them. And throughout my radio career, no matter where I worked, I continued to be a music director, and I continued to maintain a good relationship with a number of Canadian record promoters, who introduced me to a lot of interesting new music. Most of it never became popular in the States, but every now and then, a band broke through, and I was gratified to know I had helped to make that happen.
In addition to feeling a sense of pride in helping to "get the ball rolling" for Rush back in 1974, one of the added bonuses for me was all the new friends I met as a result. First and foremost, I became friends with the guys in the band (and even when they became famous, they never forgot what I did for them early in their career). I also became friends with their management. But then came lots of live concert performances, and I began to meet the fans. No matter what city I was in (and I saw Rush play in so many places), the fans always welcomed me. We all shared something in common: we loved a band that the critics generally hated; and we recognized how talented these three guys were when the critics did not.
For more than four decades, I knew that wherever Rush was playing, I would not only be welcomed by the band if I wanted to go backstage, but I would also be welcomed by the fans who came to see them. The fans seemed to recognize me: they would wave, or call my name, or hug me, or in the internet era, they would "friend" me on Facebook. Sometimes, at an event or at a concert, I would see someone with a sign that said "Thank you, Donna Halper." It meant a lot to me.
Sometimes, fans would ask me to speak at a Rush-themed convention, or teach a class about Rush's music; or they wanted to take a "selfie" with me if they saw me somewhere. I'd like to believe that some of these folks might have wanted to be friends with me with or without Rush; but there's no denying that our devotion to Rush is what brought us together and kept us in contact with each other over the years.
And then it all changed. After R40, Neil decided to retire; Alex and Geddy, loyal to the end, were not about to create a new version of Rush without him. These days, while we still have some wonderful Rush tribute bands, what we don't have are live concerts from Rush. I miss those concerts. But I also miss the friendship I shared with the guys, and with the fans. There was a certain camaraderie, a certain warmth, a certain unspoken bond whenever the fans got together for a show. Of course, we were all different: we had different politics, different religious beliefs, different favorite songs. But we could put our differences aside and enjoy being part of the extended Rush family. It was an experience I've never had with any other band (or with any other group of fans). And nearly three years later, it's something I continue to miss.
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