Standing against Stereotypes in the Moth's "A More Perfect Union: Stories of Prejudice & Power"
Last week, The Moth came to Seattle with a special show aimed at combating stereotypes. Called "A More Perfect Union: Stories of Prejudice & Power," the show was full of poignant moments (we must own up to having shed more than a few tears), but also featured a few flinch-inducing stereotypes of its own. Though the overall experience was positive and compelling, the presence of stereotypes—however subtle—even in a forum aimed at fighting them served as a powerful reminder of just how pervasive prejudice really is.
Special guest Willie Garson (you might know him as Stanford Blatch from Sex and the City) gave a mostly positive opener encouraging conversation about difficult issues like prejudice and power, while urging us to "refuse to join in a conversation of hate." Things got a little dicey when he brought up Sarah Palin and almost accused all Republicans of being unwilling to have a dialogue. While this may be true in many cases, portraying "the other side" as incapable of compromise is a tired trick that requires us to move on. Still, Garson's overall point—to communicate with others, on mutual terms, rather than insist on one's own frame of reference—was one that echoed throughout the evening.
Host Tom Shillue was charged with the difficult task of being funny in the midst of tear-inducing tales. He did a good job for the most part, but a few of his bits revealed the extent to which much of our humor is based on stereotypes—even when cleverly subverting stereotypes, humor is often still based on their existence. Shillue did several takes on his Irish Catholic upbringing, with taco night being the extent of his diverse experiences as a child. While funny to some extent, the notion that people grow up with limited exposure to other cultures is also very real, and ultimately not so funny—in fact, it's often what leads to the very perpetuation of stereotypes. Not Shillue's fault, but still a topic of discussion that perhaps should have been broached.
Stephanie Summerville opened the storytelling portion of the evening with an intense recounting of her experience being sent to a Ku Klux Klan member's house as a health care worker. As a black woman, Summerville was initially unaware of the nature of her situation, but slowly realized where she was based on the white hood—with "nice stitching" that the Martha Stewart in her was drawn to—and the white supremacist text she initially thought was a Bible. But even in this, perhaps one of the most simultaneously infuriating and terrifying places a person could be in, Summerville decided to do her duty rather than raise a fuss.
"In Indiana we normalize things," she said, and normalize she did, cleaning bile from the mouth of this ailing Klan member with liver disease for hours each day. And after her patient eventually passed away, Summerville got a letter from the man's family saying that she had provided the "best care" and given them the "most rest" of any of his caretakers.
Summerville's story was one of indirect confrontation, or confrontation avoidance: of being the best person one can be, of changing her own part of the world as best she could, and succeeding in that. Imam Khalid Latif (executive director of the Islamic Center at NYU) told of a slightly more direct confrontation he had to take after 9/11, going against his family's wishes and refusing to camouflage the fact that he is Muslim. He recalled sitting in an Arabic language class at NYU a few days after the tragedy, and noticing how most of his classmates had abandoned many of the outer religious symbols they had worn previously, such as headscarves and full beards. It made him feel "wretched," as though they were "hiding" themselves—and they were, if only out of fear. Imam Latif decided then to stand up and stop hiding his religion, and instead become a proud representative of it.
His courage, like Summerville's, paid off in powerful ways, and derived strong support from others. As a NYPD chaplain (the youngest in the department's history), Imam Latif attended an event honoring 9/11 victims. When he was asked by sheepish security guards to provide his ID "just in case," survivors came to his defense and supported his presence at the event. Summerville and Imam Latif both had beautiful stories showing how we all can—must, really—support one another in the fight against prejudice. Speaking up for others is so much more important than defending oneself, and these stories offered a powerful reminder of how our own behavior can inspire others—even those who may seem unlikely to be inspired.
After a boozy intermission, Greg Walloch and Michaela Murphy shared somewhat more lighthearted tales. Walloch told of nearly being "saved" from his physical disability by a Southern Baptist teacher and Murphy discussing how a dinosaur book got her kicked out of a (you guessed it) Southerner's home (hint: dinosaur book timeline didn't quite line up with children's Bible timeline). Both Walloch and Murphy were somewhat bewildered by their experienced, but emerged unscathed, albeit with stereotypes of crazy religious Southerners unfortunately reinforced.
Charlene Strong finished off the night with perhaps the most tear-inducing—though probably also most inspiring—story. We don't want to give away the ending (we hope Seattle videos will be added to the Characters Unite video page soon), but in the midst of divorce, depression, floods, hospitalization, and death, Strong finds a way to rise above and emerge with one clear message: be a light.
And if there's any takeaway from any negative experience, it's always this: be a light to others. Bring them up, never down. Fight for what's right, not for what's easy. Being a light is one of the hardest things there is to do, but also one of the only things that's worth doing. So do it—if not for yourself, for one of the Moth storytellers, for a friend, for someone you've never met. For someone who needs it. Be a light for anyone who has darkness. And listen to The Moth podcast to bring a little light to your day.
