The O-town Scene - Oneonta, NY
Issue link: https://www.ifoldsflip.com/i/28770
College Guy Sam Spokony Boots the cat, the sociologist While I was making coffee this morning, my cat, Boots, silently leapt up onto the kitchen counter and spoke to me. “Did you read about the fight that took place between two women on the New York City subway several weeks ago?” “I did,” I replied. “It’s strange to think that racial tension like that still exists so palpably in contemporary society, but the truth is that we’d be naive to deny it.” He meowed and pushed his face very close to mine, nudging my ear. “I can’t stop thinking about it,” he said intently. He quickly turned away, ran down the length of the countertop, and began to push at my salt and pepper shakers, eventually sliding them towards me. Once they had been arranged a few inches apart, he looked back up to face me and took a deep breath, as if preparing himself for a lengthy oration. “All right,” said Boots, tapping the pepper. “A young woman riding the train is eating spaghetti out of large Styrofoam container. Sure, she may be breaking the rules, but I, for one, have never seen anything wrong with stuffing myself with tuna in a public setting. In to be black.” He shifted his weight onto the other paw, now displaying the salt, and continued. “Enter the antagonist,” he said in a theatri- cal tone. “An older woman sitting opposite the spaghetti-eater decides that she needs to take matters into her own hands. She asks, rather pointedly, ‘what kind of animals eat on the train like that?’ This woman happens to be white.” “Yes, I know the scenario,” I said. “The black woman, after some verbal sparring, eventually attacks the white woman physi- cally. They were both in the wrong. Is there somewhere you’re going with this?” Boots smiled. “I’m glad you asked.” Just as quickly as he spoke the words, his countenance once again became severe. He folded his paws across his chest and looked away from the salt and pepper. “Here’s what I’d like America to explain Just as quickly as he spoke the words, his countenance once again became severe. He folded his paws across his chest and looked away from the salt and pepper. “Here’s what I’d like America to explain to me ...” the sake of fairness, let’s just say that she’s being, perhaps, a bit inconsid- erate. She also happens to me,” he said quizzically. “Why does it become a question of race relations before a question of anything else? The social after- math of this fight became, basically, a public forum for the airing of grievances regard- ing not only the level of bigotry in the white woman’s statement, but the state of our cul- ture today. Why does anger like that inflate so quickly and virulently?” “Because it’s not just about the singular act,” I replied. “It shows that we’re all on edge, all the time, especially when it comes to the language we use to describe the people around us. It’s rather disturbing if you ask me, and it needs to be discussed more often. I’m surprised that you don’t understand that.” “But listen to yourself! You just told me,” said Boots, “that they were both wrong. They both acted inappropriately. Why not begin the discussion there? You’re so quick to cat- egorize this as just another example of racial tension. While I’m not ignoring the greater implications, I won’t cop out like you do and turn each individual incident into a sociology lecture. We’re not professors, we’re people.” “Well, one of us is a person,” I said. “Oh, shut up,” he retorted. “I know you understand me, but you refuse to look closely. Yes, racial bigotry exists, and yes, it needs to be dissected, but there’s something else that can’t be forgotten. It’s the responsibility we have to take for own actions, regardless of what greater societal forces may have influenced them. That’s the point you’re all missing.” With that, Boots opened both of the shak- ers and poured salt and pepper all over my counter. “Wha?!” I tried to stop him, but it was too late. It wasn’t the biggest mess he’d ever made around the house. “Look,” he said. “Inside the container, it seems to be one huge entity. But that’s not reality. Once the cap comes off, each grain ricochets off on its own. Before we consider the landscape, before we define the roles that these women, white or black, have played in the struggle, we must ask: Are we, each one of us, ready to accept the consequences of every single thing we say and do? Meow.” He jumped off the counter and ran upstairs. I had to think about what he said before turn- ing and finding the dustpan. Sam Spokony has written about having conversations with his cat, Boots, before. Spokony is a junior majoring in music indus- try and English at SUNY Oneonta. He can be reached at spoksm03@suny.oneonta.edu. College Girl Jennifer Tighe Do I look stupid? I heard something disturbing today that I thought should be shared with my readers. A girl spoke up today in class about a problem she’s faced in the past with first impressions and what people assume about her when they see her for the first time. This is some- thing that we probably all think about from time to time. What do people think about us when they see us walking down the street? What does our hair, our clothes or even how we walk convey about us? What are we saying about ourselves when we aren’t saying anything at all? This particular girl was reflecting on a time When someone says she’s smart and pretty, we act like it’s an added bonus, that it’s hard to find girls like her. when she was judged because of what type of clothes she was wear- ing and how she did her makeup. Her friend told her that she came off as “stupid” at first because of the way she presented herself. Well, dear friend, you sound pretty stupid yourself. And yes, that was my initial response to this girl’s story along with, “maybe you should get new friends.” I thought about it, and found that I’m confronted with the same issue. I like high heels, lip gloss, dresses and anything with lace on it. But I also like writing, carrying on intelligent conversations and learning things. So I ask myself, does my look show off that I like those things? And then I ask myself, what does someone who likes those things look like? I have no answer. Why is it that people assume just because I obsess over the latest trends this spring or about what color to dye my hair this month, I’m not also obsessing over the latest book I’m reading or the newest piece I’m writing? Why can’t we have beauty and brains? Why is it when we find them together, we act surprised? When someone says she’s smart and pretty, we act like it’s an added bonus, that it’s hard to find girls like her. Is it actually hard to find girls who are both smart and pretty? Well, I guess I hit the jackpot because you better believe my friends are sexy as hell, and they’re damn smart, too. And in my classes? Some of the smartest girls are also some of the prettiest girls. So I guess what I’m asking is that we wipe the shocked looks off our faces and start to appreciate people for who they are, not who we assume they are. Jennifer Tighe is a senior majoring in Eng- lish at SUNY Oneonta. She can be reached at tighjj53@suny.oneonta.edu. April 7, 2011 O-Town Scene 5