Tampilkan postingan dengan label Theresa Rundstedler. Tampilkan semua postingan
Tampilkan postingan dengan label Theresa Rundstedler. Tampilkan semua postingan

Rabu, 27 Juni 2012

Athletes and Race in the Last Century



The Leonard Lopate Show (WNYC-FM)

Athletes and Race in the Last Century

Theresa Runstedtler and David J. Leonard discuss race in sports. Runstedtler is the author of Jack Johnson, Rebel Sojourner: Boxing in the Shadow of the Global Color Line, about the first African American World Heavyweight Champion (1908-1915) and his battles with racism around the world. Leonard is the author of After Artest: The NBA and the Assault on Blackness, about the 2004 “Palace Brawl,” a fight between NBA players Ron Artest and Ben Wallace that dramatically altered outside perceptions of the sport.

Senin, 25 Juni 2012

The Black Athlete: From Jack Johnson to Metta World Peace @ The Brecht Forum 6/26



The Brecht Forum
June 26, 2012 @ 6:30 PM

The Black Athlete: From Jack Johnson to Metta World Peace
 
Theresa Runstedtler in conversation with David J. Leonard Moderated by Marc Lamont Hill
 
Sports are central to American public life in the twenty-first century – evidenced by the power and profitability of ESPN, the congressional hearings about steroids, and the ubiquity of sports programming in the mainstream media.  Of course, this is nothing new. From Jack Johnson to Jackie Robinson, and from the 1968 Olympic protest to the 2004 Palace Brawl in Indianapolis, sports have always been more than just a game. Drawing from their recently published books – Jack Johnson, Rebel Sojourner: Boxing in the Shadow of the Global Color Line and After Artest: The NBA and the Assault on Blackness – Runstedtler and Leonard will explore the history of black athletes, reflecting on how race and racism have shaped and continue to define American sports culture.
 
A former professional dancer/actress from Canada, Theresa Runstedtler chose to shift her passion for popular culture from the studio and stage to the classroom. She graduated with a PhD in African American Studies and History from Yale University in 2007, and she is now an Assistant Professor of American studies at the University at Buffalo (SUNY). For the 2011-2012 academic year, she will be a Mellon postdoctoral fellow at the University of Pennsylvania.

David J. Leonard is associate professor in the Department of Critical Culture, Gender, and Race Studies at Washington State University, Pullman. With a B.A. in Black studies from the University of California, Santa Barbara, and a master's and Ph.D. from the University of California, Berkeley, he has dedicated his career to interdisciplinary scholarship, transformative teaching, and research that underscores the continued significance of race within popular culture, the structures of politics, and society at large.

Dr. Marc Lamont Hill is one of the leading hip-hop generation intellectuals in the country. His work, which covers topics such as culture, politics, and education, has appeared in numerous journals, magazines, books, and anthologies. Dr. Hill has lectured widely and provides regular commentary for media outlets like NPR, Washington Post, Essence Magazine, and the New York Times. He is the host of the nationally syndicated television show Our World With Black Enterprise, which airs Sunday mornings on TV One and broadcast markets around the country.  He also provides regular commentary for CNN, MSNBC, and Fox News Channel, where he was a political contributor and regular guest on The O’Reilly Factor. An award-winning writer, Dr. Hill is a columnist and editor-at-large for the Philadelphia Daily News.

Sliding scale: $6/$10/$15
Free for Brecht Forum Subscribers

Kamis, 05 April 2012

Education in Era of the McTeacher


Education in Era of the McTeacher
by Theresa Runstedtler and David J. Leonard | NewBlackMan

 “It’s a Biblical principle. If you double a teacher’s pay scale, you’ll attract people who aren’t called to teach.” – Alabama state Senator Shadrack McGill (R)
Speaking at a prayer breakfast last month, state Senator Shadrack McGill (R) argued that increasing school teachers’ salaries would not only destroy the quality of public education in Alabama but it would be tantamount to blasphemy. (Of course, this position did not prevent him from advocating for a 67-percent pay increase for Alabama legislators.)
To go in and raise someone’s child for eight hours a day, or many people’s children for eight hours a day, requires a calling. It better be a calling in your life. I know I wouldn’t want to do it, OK? And these teachers that are called to teach, regardless of the pay scale, they would teach. It’s just in them to do. It’s the ability that God give ‘em. And there are also some teachers, it wouldn’t matter how much you would pay them, they would still perform to the same capacity. If you don’t keep that in balance, you’re going to attract people who are not called, who don’t need to be teaching our children. So, everything has a balance.
Even though McGill’s theological grounding of the issue of teacher pay is laughable at best, his assertion exposes an underlying tension in current debates over education reform. Ironically, those who demonize teachers frequently deploy this tired mantra of selfless public service to rationalize low teacher salaries, even as they expect the same teachers to operate in an increasingly corporatized, “results-based” environment – without corporate-sized wages.
In other words, they want to have their cake and eat it too, and all on the backs of those who spend their days working in the classroom, often with paltry resources, little support, and the constant threat of punitive measures and public derision. And this pressure to push the rubric of privatization into public education is not just coming from the Right. The “progressive” movement for education reform has also jumped on the corporate bandwagon.

Indeed, the logic of consumerism now dominates the “enterprise” of American education from kindergarten to college. We have entered a phase defined by a client relationship, with teachers becoming akin to academic concierges or service representatives, rather than intellectual leaders and mentors. Schoolteachers and professors must provide information, guidance, and whatever else their student-customers’ desire.  More and more we are told that we are in the business of content delivery and job training, rather than social analysis and critique.  In “Putting the Customer First in College,” Louis Soares, the Director of the Postsecondary Education program at the Center for American Progress, even argues for the establishment of an “Office of Consumer Protection in Higher Education”:
Students make customer choices based on available information, interests, abilities and life circumstances that will mostly determine whether they succeed in obtaining an education with a meaningful credential. The problem is our higher education marketplace today does not account for this customer focus that is so important to success. In large measure, this is because education policies that guide this marketplace are largely crafted by the dominant voices in higher education—colleges and universities with the resources to sway elected officials. Students as customers have no voice in this policy conversation. (emphasis added)
Writing about the phenomenon of helicopter parents, Afshan Jafar links the rise of hovering moms and dads to the heightened consumerism in U.S. education. “This trend is clearly the manifestation of a consumerist mentality: I'm paying for this, so even though I am a sophomore, I should be able to take the course that is open to juniors and seniors,” writes the assistant professor of Sociology at Connecticut College. “Or: I'm paying for this, so this better be good (and "good" really means a good grade here). This consumerist mentality explains the sense of entitlement that we perceive in some of our students and their parents.” While often attributed to the increasing costs of higher education and the recent string of consumer-fraud class actions brought by students, this “retail” ethic runs much deeper. It reflects a substantive paradigm shift in the language, practice, and structure of American education.
With this emphasis on benchmarks, quantifiable results, and customer reviews, it is no surprise that attacks on teachers, whether at the university or public school level, have escalated in the past few years. Whether measured by standardized tests or student evaluations, teachers are now expected to produce immediately recognizable “results,” even as the funds dedicated to the classroom (as opposed to testing companies and college administrations) continue to shrink.
Female instructors, especially women of color, are bearing the brunt of this paradigmatic shift in education. They have become the most visible scapegoats in the drama of educational reform. Pascale Mauclair, a teacher at P.S. 11 in Woodside (Queens), knows this all too well. After the New York Post published a database tracking the performance of “12,170 math and English teachers in fourth through eighth grade” (Teacher Data Reports), Mauclair became an unfair target of public ridicule and scorn. In an ill-informed and inflammatory report that included Mauclair’s yearbook photo, the Post’s Georgett Roberts branded her “the city’s worst teacher.” Since then, some parents have demanded that their children be removed from her classroom, while others have called for her termination. Besieged by reporters at her home, Mauclair even had to call the police twice to have them removed from her property.
In response, Leo Casey of edwize.org argues that “the story of Pascale Mauclair and P.S. 11 begins with a tale of the flawed methodology and invalid measurements of the Teacher Data Reports [TDR].” Because of inequalities across the system, consumerist, “one-size-fits-all” reports like the TDR often obscure more than they reveal, opening up teachers like Mauclair to unwarranted assaults:

P.S. 11 is located at the epicenter of a number of different immigrant communities In northern Queens, and over a quarter of its students are English Language Learners. Mauclair is an ESL teacher, and over the last five years she has had small, self-contained classes of recently arrived immigrants who do not speak English. Her students arrive at different times of the school year, depending upon that date of their family’s migration; consequently, it is not unusual for her students to take the 6th grade exams when they have only been in her class for a matter of a few months. Two factors which produce particularly contorted TDR results – teaching the highest academic need students and having a small sample of students that take the standardized state exams – define her teaching situation.

That women and people of color are shouldering the burden of the widespread demonization of teachers is evident not only with the media attacks on Mauclair and Rhena Jasey (two of the biggest stories out of New York have focused on black women), but with the more general assault on teachers who work with ESL and special needs students, those who work in districts with less funding, those who serve communities of color, and especially those who do all of the above. In reducing education to the sum of “measurable” scores (tests scores, teaching evaluations), we are not only turning our children’s classrooms over to a consumer-based model of dubious benefit but also failing to address the myriad of material and structural inequalities that impact teaching and learning.  
Professors are by no means immune to this form of scapegoating. The disproportionate impact of the consumerist education ethic on teachers of color and female instructors is equally evident at the college level. We have faced an intensified assault on our profession since the late 1970s, including the silencing of our voices in discussions of university governance, the stripping of our right to organize at private universities, and the move to casualize our labor. The ratio of contract to tenure-track faculty has ballooned. With exploding numbers of lecturers and adjuncts (mostly women and people of color) now doing the majority of the teaching and the simultaneous shrinking of the tenure track(still mostly white and male), the professoriate has devolved into a kind of academic caste system.
Every day we see the darker side of the increased emphasis on assessment, on the push to demonstrate success through quantifiable benchmarks.  In a system that values numbers, whether it be majors or students “served” per class (revenue per credit hour), professors who teach subjects outside the mainstream, those who challenge conventional norms, and those who demand student accountability are perpetually at a disadvantage.  
We also see it with the explosion of websites where students can (be)rate professors, telling the world who is and who isn’t a “good” teacher.  Just as foodies can (be)rate their local restaurant on Zagat.com, students can similarly highlight the quality of the instruction (the food) and the quality of delivery (the service) on these  websites.  They provide a public forum where anonymous (and usually disgruntled) students feel empowered to discipline and punish their instructors. The critiques on these sites are often more vicious and personal than the teacher evaluations collected by universities. Misogynistic and racist abuse abounds.
Indeed the increasing emphasis on teaching evaluations in higher education obscures the profound impact of sexism and racism in the classroom. These ratings are not simply “neutral measures” of “good” versus “bad” teaching. Numerous studies have documented the powerful ways that race, gender, and sexuality shape the classroom setting, and yet the impact is far more poignant than any statistic can convey. Evident in comments that lament that a female instructor “looks too young” to be teaching a large survey course, in those that assess the physical appearance of female professors (their –bodies or fashion choices), or in those that chastise “angry” or “bitter” faculty of color for daring to bring up issues of race, we can see how evaluations and other metrics of consumer satisfaction often tell us nothing about the quality of education.  Adding insult to injury, those of us who look for support from our elder colleagues often come up empty-handed. The same kind of sexism and racism that permeates the classroom still permeates the profession.
The shift to a consumer-based educational model – one that privileges quantifiable metrics – has dire consequences for students, teachers, and the field of education. This shift has occurred at the very same time that public perceptions of our roles have changed. Professors are seen as deliverers of content, rather than intellectuals tasked with challenging societal norms, received wisdom, and historical orthodoxy. Schoolteachers are expected to prepare students to pass standardized tests, rather than teach them how to think critically about their education and the larger world.  If professors can’t see the correlation between the recent assaults on schoolteachers and the devaluation of our profession, we will suffer.  If we don’t acknowledge the connection between evaluations and larger systems of racism, sexism, and consumerism, our educational mission will remain at risk. The demonization of schoolteachers is the framework through which students enter our classrooms; it is no wonder that they think professors are little more than “servers of knowledge,” tip not included.  Only when we join together – classroom to classroom, teacher to teacher, irrespective of discipline, age, and perceived place in the profession – can we begin to stem the rising tide against teachers.
***
Theresa Runstedtler is Assistant Professor of American Studies at the University at Buffalo and, postdoctoral fellow at the University of Pennsylvania's Penn Humanities Forum for the 2011-2012 academic year. She is the author of Jack Johnson, Rebel Sojourner: Boxing in the Shadow of the Global Color Line(University of California Press). Visit her blog at www.theresarunstedtler.com and follow her on twitter @klecticAcademik.
David J. Leonard is Associate Professor in the Department of Critical Culture, Gender and Race Studies at Washington State University, Pullman. He is the author of Screens Fade to Black: Contemporary African American Cinemaand the forthcoming After Artest: Race and the War on Hoop (SUNY Press). Leonard is a regular contributor to NewBlackMan and blogs @ No Tsuris.

Senin, 10 Oktober 2011

Floyd Mayweather and the Demonization of Black Athletes















A Questionable Victory? 
Floyd Mayweather and the Demonization of Black Athletes
by Theresa Runstedtler and David J. Leonard | NewBlackMan

The ongoing efforts to control, manage, and demonize black athletes, especially black boxers, once again came to a head a few weeks ago when Floyd Mayweather, Jr. beat Victor Ortiz with a “controversial” knockout punch to win the world welterweight title.
The fight promised to be a battle of two diametrical opposites. The self-assured 34-year-old black tactician with a defensive strategy was set to take on an earnest, up-and-coming 24-year-old Latino with an iron chin and aggressive style. Mayweather’s scenes in the pre-fight HBO production of 24/7 – talking into a stack of money as if it were a phone, buying a new luxury car on a whim, and fighting with his father in front of a crowd of fans – were wildly colorful, sometimes surreal, sometimes stomach-turning, and entirely bombastic. But all the while, Mayweather kept training; he kept honing his craft and conditioning his body, even pulling his entourage out of bed (and out of the club) for 2:00 am workout sessions.
In the meantime, 24/7 fashioned Ortiz into a paragon of ascetic virtue. His scenes revolved around a triumphant and righteous tale of social uplift – the quintessential good immigrant story. He came from nothing. His parents abandoned him and he still managed to pull himself up by his own bootstraps to become a successful, but humble fighter. Unlike Mayweather with his large entourage and celebrity friends, Ortiz mostly kept to himself with his truck-driving trainer and loyal brother.
The first few rounds were tight with Mayweather grabbing the early lead. In the fourth round, in what was probably Ortiz’s most effective moments in the fight, the wheels came off his attempt to defeat Mayweather. Launching at Mayweather, Ortiz landed a vicious head butt, leading Referee Joe Cortez to step in to penalize Ortiz.  After several apologies from Ortiz, a few hugs, a kiss or two, and the tapping of the gloves, the fight resumed; although it appears that Ortiz didn’t get the memo leaving him vulnerable to a classic Mayweather combo that ended as many have before: with his opponent on the ground.  Replays clearly illustrate that Ortiz was not paying attention and not following the creed “to protect oneself at all time,” ending the fight in what was both one of the more climatic and anti-climatic moments in boxing history.
Before the fighters even exited the ring, commentators had already denied Mayweather the victory.  Described as a “questionable” win, a “marginally legal” knockout, and as one that resulted from a “cheap shot” and a “sucker punch” the victory was not simply hallow but purportedly a window into Mayweather’s dubious character.  “Like the Tyson ear biting incident of yesteryear, Floyd Mayweather proved to be dirty fighter this evening who hit a man when the action had not officially commenced by the referee,” noted Jet Fan on The Bleacher Report. “To a chorus of boos, Mayweather then imploded in a post-fight interview with HBO's Larry Merchant as he questioned Merchant's boxing resume and then proceeded to terminate the dialogue in a profanity laced tirade. To Merchant's credit, he stood toe-to-toe with an obvious bully who seems to relish in antagonizing men twice his age, including his own father!” A commentary on The Statesmen encapsulates the demonization directed at Mayweather that used the fight to lament Floyd’s character, pathologies and otherwise undesirable traits:
Congratulations, Floyd Mayweather. You are now the most despised athlete on the planet, non-O.J. division.  Mayweather is sullying his legacy as one of the greatest fighters of our generation. His latest classless missteps came last Saturday night with a one-two punch. First, he cold-cocked Victor Ortiz in the closing seconds of the fourth round of their welterweight championship fight while Ortiz was apologizing for an intentional head butt. Yes, what Ortiz did was idiotic — first the head butt and then letting his guard down while referee Joe Cortez had his back turned toward the fighters. But what Mayweather did — perfectly legit under strict interpretation of the rules — was a punk move. But he was just getting started.  Mayweather then went after HBO analyst Larry Merchant in a post-fight interview, spewing profanities before Merchant grew tired of it and yelled, "I wish I was 50 years younger and I would kick your (butt).
Apparent from the media response was both a lack of respect and a dismissal of the specifics of what happened in the ring. Rather than simply comment on the fight, the media reasserted “common sense” understandings of black athletes, reiterating the narrative of Mayweather as an immature, greedy, and petulant child who represents everything that is wrong with modern professional sports culture.  The media response in this regard reflects the longstanding project of constructing black athletes as “bad boys,” which in the end “works to reinforce efforts to tame their ‘out of control’ nature" (Ferber 2007, p. 20). 
Whether depicting the fight as indicative of a lack of sportsmanship or a win-at-all costs mentality; whether representing Mayweather as so violent and despicable that he would attack an old man like Larry Merchant; or whether focusing on his trash-talking, extravagance, bravado, and material flash, the demonization of Mayweather illustrates how his body (and his body of work) functions as a contested sight about the social significance of black athletes in the twenty-first century. The post-fight criticisms are not simply about Mayweather but rather they evoke the contested history of black athletes and their place in white-run sporting industries geared at largely white consumers. As noted by Imani Perry, in Prophets of the Hood, popular culture (including sports) exists not only as a site for the construction and dissemination of stereotypical representations, but also as a space where “the isolation of black bodies as the culprits for widespread multiracial social ills” becomes commonplace (Perry 2005, p 27). 

Indeed, what gets left out of the discussion is the calculated nature of Mayweather’s public persona. He knows his audience and given the financial structure of the match, he had a lot to gain from stirring up publicity for the fight. Whether you call him “Pretty Boy” or “Money,” Mayweather is arguably following in the footsteps of a long tradition of black fighters that the public (especially the white public) has loved to hate. Like other black boxers who came before him, he has used his infamy as a clever marketing tool. At the post-fight press conference, Mayweather admitted to reporters that he and his team worked from the premise that boxing was about more than just money; above all, it was about entertaining the crowd.
The line between performance and sport has always been blurred in the pugilistic realm. In the nineteenth and early twentieth century many boxers (both white and black) made far more money off of their theatrical exhibitions than they did from their actual prizefights. They were also self-conscious style hounds and brash trash-talkers who realized that how they “staged” their masculine bravado outside the ring often influenced their financial rewards from the ring. Instead of trying to get white fans to love them (which would have been a feat given the racial politics of the time), some black fighters positioned themselves as men that spectators could love to hate.
Take for instance, John Perry, “The Black Sailor.” The son of a white mother and a black British father in Nova Scotia, Perry won Australia’s heavyweight title in 1849 where his opulent clothing and confident demeanor unnerved many of the local white sportswriters.
By the late 1900s, being a more “respectable” and deferential black fighter did not guarantee that one could skirt boxing’s increasingly rigid color line. The black Australian pugilist Peter Jackson, who came to be known as a gentleman and an honorary white man, still never managed to coax the white American champion John L. Sullivan into the ring for a world heavyweight championship match.
Other fighters simply chose to flout “proper” racial and class etiquette, such as Frank Craig, “The Harlem Coffee Cooler,” a black American expatriate prizefighter in turn-of-the-century Britain and France. In addition to winning boxing matches, Craig became a smash hit in British music halls, helping to popularize the cakewalk. With the money earned from his fights and exhibitions, he bought several London taverns. He even enjoyed flaunting his wealth and was known to drive around with his white wife in an open carriage, wearing expensive clothes and diamond jewelry.
With the rise of sports pages and specialty boxing magazines, which closely followed fighters’ exploits in and out of the ring, the performative aspects of the sport helped to expand the boxing industry’s profitability. Yet, as much as money was a key consideration for black boxers as they fashioned their public personas, many chose to be deliberately unruly and pompous as a kind of personal political statement. For them, it was about speaking back to prevailing stereotypes of doltish, hapless, weak, subservient, and backward black men.
Perhaps the most infamous ring dandy of all was Jack Johnson. With his defeat of Tommy Burns in Sydney in 1908, Johnson became the first black heavyweight champion of the world. Like Perry and Craig, Johnson embodied a bold vision of black masculinity that spoke directly to the hopes and dreams of a black working class desperate for a break in the racial oppression and back-breaking labor that characterized their lives. In the ring he beat up white men physically and verbally, while outside the ring he flaunted his conspicuous consumption, his love of fast cars, his quick wit, and his affairs with white women. He was also known for performing elaborate grooming rituals, usually with the help of white servants, and for openly exhibiting his physique in front of sportswriters. Through these performances Johnson not only contested longstanding tenets of black inferiority but he also challenged conventional narratives of restraint as the route to racial uplift forwarded by the black middle class. (Sound familiar?)
Let’s not forget that prizefighting emerged from the underground world of vice. Early pugilists were hardly considered epitomes of respectability, and many black boxers like Johnson simply refused to relinquish their connection to the motley collection of gangsters, pimps, prostitutes, and vagabonds who inhabited the sporting world.
Still, by the early twentieth century social reformers were trying to pry the sport loose from its moorings in the underworld. They hoped to make boxing an amateur sport untainted by pecuniary motives, and therefore more legitimate in the eyes of mainstream society. They sought to turn fighters into silent technicians in the ring and middle-class role models beyond the ring. Yet boxing has never lost its edge or fully moved away from its underground roots. Just as with Johnson and later Muhammad Ali, Mayweather has chosen to embrace the persona of the racial villain, even as sportswriters have imagined him as a threat to society’s (and boxing’s) morals and values.
Although we certainly acknowledge the ways in which Mayweather challenges the expected and sanctioned identities available to the modern black athlete, his efforts are not inherently transgressive. While Mayweather is undoubtedly building on a tradition that comes out of a longer history of racial and class oppression, his various efforts to construct his public image do not necessarily bespeak a progressive, anti-racist politics. After all, his use of homophobic rhetoric and his embrace of material opulence do not challenge the heterosexist and capitalist power structure. Even though Mayweather challenges the accepted roles and identities of young black men as set out by white sports fans, in other respects he perpetuates a brand of black masculinity that does little to inspire a more inclusive and transformative vision of black politics.
Moving beyond simple questions of likability and respectability, there is much more at stake with the recent demonization of Mayweather given the larger history and racial landscape. We should not just criticize folks like Mayweather who are simply trying to negotiate their way in the boxing world. Rather we need to interrogate the increasingly central role of narratives of the humble, obedient, and ascetic black athlete in today’s sports industrial complex. After all this multi-billion-dollar, transnational industry relies not only on colonial narratives of race, but also on a large pool of docile and disposable black bodies to drive its phenomenal profitability.
***
Theresa Runstedtler is Assistant Professor of American Studies at the University at Buffalo and, postdoctoral fellow at the University of Pennsylvania's Penn Humanities Forum for the 2011-2012 academic year.  Her book, tentatively titled, Jack Johnson, Rebel Sojourner: Boxing in the Shadow of the Global Color Line (University of California Press) drops in Spring 2012.
David J. Leonard is Associate Professor in the Department of Critical Culture, Gender and Race Studies at Washington State University, Pullman. He is the author of Screens Fade to Black: Contemporary African American Cinema and the forthcoming After Artest: Race and the War on Hoop (SUNY Press). Leonard is a regular contributor to NewBlackMan and blogs @ No Tsuris.

Selasa, 30 Agustus 2011

“It Doesn’t Get Any More Real Than Perry”?: The Right’s Stake in Real Americaness
















 
“It Doesn’t Get Any More Real Than Perry”?: 
The Right’s Stake in Real Americaness 
by Theresa Runstedtler | special to NewBlackMan

“People of all persuasions are sick, sick, SICK of mollycoddling, pandering and Edwardian (as in John Edwards) phoniness . . . . It doesn’t get any more real than Perry. The elite may call it ‘swagger’; I call it a real man with real convictions and the courage to stand up for them, which happen to comport with the majority of Americans. Or as they say in Texas, he is had and cattle. And the coupe de gras, he is a spiritually anchored and philosophically happy warrior.”

Since when did the Right (and more specifically white Republican men from Texas) become the arbiters of what it means to be a “real American man”?

As a Canadian transplant, I’ve always found the theatrics of the U.S. political scene fascinating, where big money campaigns seem interminable and public spectacle usually trumps any in-depth discussion of policy. American politics is a virtual blood-sport with all its sound bite and bombastic fury. Texas Governor Rick Perry is just the latest Republican to enter the pissing contest that is the 2012 presidential campaign, ready to show the “real America” that he has the balls to lead the nation.

Of course, Perry is simply following in the well-worn footsteps of his predecessor George W. Bush, with his self-righteous swagger, Texas drawl, and rugged, frontier persona. He prefers cowboy boots to dress shoes and proudly recounts shooting a coyote with his .380 Ruger (it had a laser sight). He wears his Christianity on his sleeve, most recently playing the patriarchal prophet at his Houston prayer rally. Even though Bush’s people reportedly disdain Perry, he seems to have taken many of his moves right out of their campaign playbook.


While Bush had to manufacture a frontier persona to cover up his elite, northeastern roots (much like President Theodore Roosevelt back in the early 1900s), Perry actually has a real connection to rural Texas. As his campaign website triumphantly claims, “A fifth generation Texan, Governor Rick Perry has taken an extraordinary Texas journey, from a tenant farm in the rolling West Texas plains to the governor's office of our nation's second largest state.” Perry and his people would clearly like us to think that he made it to his current political station by pure, hard-scrabble individualism (with a little help from the Man upstairs), but even a cursory look at his record suggests otherwise.

As his website extols, “Rick Perry has led a life of public service, starting in the United States Air Force and continuing over two decades in elected office.” Thanks to a clever, rhetorical twist, his work for one of the largest wings of the federal government – the military – can be touted as admirable public service, in contrast to the other government services he so desperately wants to cut. As the wife of a former Marine, I also know that serving in the military makes one eligible for government-backed housing loans and educational funding, but Perry would argue that unlike other handouts these are appropriate entitlements for deserving people. Perhaps most ironic of all, he boasts two decades as an elected official, even as he calls for the shrinking of government. (I’m pretty sure that he won’t be handing back his tax-payer-provided pension or healthcare.)

Perry claims credit for “creating a Texas of unlimited opportunity and prosperity by improving education, securing the border and increasing economic development through classic conservative values.” However, his real record and the real-life conditions in his state tell a different story. Despite his vociferous condemnation of the federal stimulus bill, Perry has a long history of fighting for federal money to help fund state projects. Even members of his own party have decried his blatant “corporate cronyism.” He has used handouts from the Texas Enterprise Fund (TEF) to pad the pockets of his friends in big business, who in turn have helped to fill his campaign coffers. The free market’s hand is not so invisible in the Lone Star state.

Misery and misfortune have also accompanied Perry’s “Texas Miracle.” While the state boasts a low unemployment rate, it is tied with Mississippi for having the highest percentage of minimum wage jobs in the nation and bears the unique distinction of having the highest percentage of residents without medical insurance (many of whom are children). Evidently, the governor’s narrative of the white Christian patriarch who pulls himself (and his frontier state) up by his own bootstraps is just that – a narrative.

Still, I don’t want to use Perry as a simple straw man, since many Republicans share both his basic campaign tactics and political worldview – the most extreme example being the so-called Tea Party (which is incidentally bank-rolled by the uber-rich Koch brothers and conservative media tycoon Rupert Murdoch). Indeed, the most notorious peddlers of this racially-inflected, Alpha-male individualism are not what they seem; many of them have effectively consolidated their power and wealth on the backs of “real Americans.”

So, after the disastrous Bush years and subsequent economic crash, how is it that this narrative remains so seductive to voters, particularly (white) working people? Arguably, this fake populist narrative has become all the more seductive for many struggling to make it through the Great Recession, even as the chasm between blue-collar (especially male) laborers and the super-rich continues to widen. So again, why in the heck are people continuing to support the Right’s line about the need to scale back/privatize public services, bust any remaining unions, and keep all industry free of regulation – things that have not proven to be in their (or their families’) interest over the past thirty years?

One thing is certain: the Republicans are great communicators steeped in the art of storytelling. Over the decades, the party has masterfully manipulated a reactionary tale of race, gender, and class, which it consistently invokes to fire up the anger, fear, and prejudice of its base, pushing them to the polls. Underlying its message of constitutional purity, individual rights, lower taxes, and small government is the specter of nefarious collusion between the corrupt and wasteful plutocrats in Washington, DC and the masses of undeserving (read: black and brown) poor.

In short, more taxes paid to the federal government somehow translates into more handouts for the supposedly lazy/criminal/promiscuous/spend-thrift/illegal-immigrant poor and therefore less money in the pockets of hard-working/family-oriented/God-fearing, real (read: white) Americans. The election of the United States’ first black president, Barack Obama, has only made this convoluted logic more convincing. And, the recent debt downgrade certainly didn’t help matters. Republican pundits could barely contain their glee that a black president presided over the nation’s first slide into “bad credit.”

The resounding calls to “take our country back” are just the latest iteration of the Right’s recycled story of virtuous white victims bravely battling to reinstate patriarchal law and order – a frontier tale for the twenty-first century. Of course, the real question is “back from whom and back to when”? One only needs to look at the Tea Party’s deification of the founding fathers, its revisionist history of the revolutionary war and constitution, its sanitizing of American slavery, its elision of Native American genocide and dispossession, and its refusal to acknowledge the nation’s imperial past (and present) to get an idea of the answer.

They are effectively channeling the rage of their target audience – disgruntled white working- and middle-class people who feel increasingly wedged between America’s soulless elite and the pathological poor. Two of the main pillars of the “Taking Our Country Back Tour,” the call to lower taxes (read: tax breaks for the super-rich and corporate giants) and shrink government (read: further cutbacks to social programs and entitlements), can only appeal to this target audience if cloaked in a siege mentality.

On the one hand, the tour’s website links to a Fox News feature on country singer John Rich’s anthem decrying government bailouts and Wall Street bonuses. Yet lurking beneath the surface of this populist rhetoric is an even more pernicious disdain for the black and brown people who have supposedly plunged this great democracy into moral depravity and economic decline, from “affirmative action” elites, to illegal aliens, to violent gangbangers, to drug addicts, and welfare moms. To make matters worse, the 2010 census confirmed that America’s nonwhite population is booming. Even though white wealth still dwarfs that of nonwhites and the logic of white supremacy still permeates U.S. institutions, Tea Partiers somehow feel they’re being pushed aside.

In some respects, white working- and middle-class Americans are right to feel their privilege and stability melting away, but not because of any great government gift to the undeserving poor. Instead, thanks to the Republicans, Warren Buffet and other billionaires are now taxed at a lower rate than the average American. Still, to sell its fiscal agenda, the conservative elite urges its rank-and-file to cling to the romantic frontier images of the family farmer and the independent shopkeeper desperately in need of relief from taxes and regulation – images of declining significance in an age of corporate consolidation, globalization, and financialization. In reality, their economic fates are more closely tied to those of the very people Republican leaders encourage them to despise. This is truly “class warfare” at its best – except, the “haves” have unleashed the “have-nots” to fight amongst themselves.

The recent “Marriage Vow” is yet another example of how conservative class warfare relies on well-honed stereotypes of race, gender, and sexuality. In July there was a smattering of reactions to Tea Party candidate Rep. Michele Bachmann’s (R-Minn.) signing of this so-called “declaration of Dependence upon MARRIAGE and FAMILY.” In particular, commentators criticized two of the vow’s most egregious points: 1) it suggests black marriages and black children were better off under slavery than they are today; and 2) it endorses the idea that homosexuality is simply a deviant lifestyle choice. While both these points are undoubtedly inaccurate and inflammatory, I want to dig deeper into the underlying logic of this conservative pledge.

In a nutshell, it attributes most of the nation’s problems (whether social, moral, or economic) to the supposed breakdown of the heterosexual, patriarchal family. According to its line of reasoning, single (read: black) mothers are the causal link to “poverty, pathology and prison.” Moreover, the vow blames “family fragmentation” and its “costs to the justice system” for the expansion of government services and higher taxes, and for the resulting rise of the federal deficit and public debt burden. All of this has put undue pressure on American (read: white, nuclear) families.

The declaration even suggests that the status of U.S. women and children is declining because of the nation’s collective “debasement” of marriage through quickie divorce, premarital sex and cohabitation, and its growing acceptance of homosexuality. Indeed, it couches these evils as the root cause of “human trafficking, sexual slavery, seduction into promiscuity, and all forms of pornography and prostitution, infanticide, [and] abortion.” According to the vow, restoring Christian, heterosexual patriarchy (while also reducing taxes and shrinking government) is the only out of our current moral and economic dilemmas.

Poor black people are the obvious bogeymen haunting the text of this treatise on societal decay, with its invocation of slavery and the Moynihan Report of 1965 (which blamed the black out-of-wedlock birthrate for black poverty). Gays are also used for rhetorical flourish, as deviant foils to “real American men” (and their real families). These are the racial and sexual demons that foreclose any real discussion of how the U.S. neo-imperial wars, in tandem with tax cuts for the wealthy and corporations have contributed to the deficit. They turn the public’s attention away from how financial deregulation fostered the mortgage crisis, which led to the economic crash, and then to the government’s bailout of Wall Street and to the passage of the federal stimulus bill to help get Main Street back to work.

Curiously missing from the vow is any mention of the very real obstacles facing poor, especially black and brown families, over the past few decades. Deindustrialization has changed the face of the U.S. job market, leaving those without access to high-quality education with few opportunities to thrive in the mainstream economy. Yet, under No Child Left Behind, little other than high-stakes testing has been implemented to improve public schools and to help outfit inner-city youth for the rapidly shifting information economy.
                 
Not coincidentally, this has taken place right alongside the breathtaking expansion of the prison industrial complex, which disproportionately incarcerates black and brown people (many of them fathers and mothers) for non-violent, drug-related offenses. The prison system happens to be one area of the government that both conservative and liberal leaders are not so eager to downsize, particularly because of the huge profits to be made from servicing this captive market.

What Michelle Alexander has called The New Jim Crow, and in the case of California what Ruth Wilson Gilmore has dubbed The Golden Gulag, has done nothing to alleviate the interconnected problems of poverty, instability, hopelessness, and addiction in the United States. Instead, this fiscally irresponsible and morally reprehensible system cages and dehumanizes disadvantaged black and brown people who have been essentially left behind by the new economy. (And, it doesn’t help that once you’re a felon, you face employment and housing discrimination, disfranchisement, and the denial of public benefits and services.)

It is a wonder that anyone can sustain a happy, healthy, and successful family under such conditions. Things have only worsened with the recession, which has slammed black and brown people with disproportionate ferocity. Regardless of these realities, the Republican myth-making machine has somehow managed to sell a political story of white victimhood. As Barbara Ehrenreich and Dedrick Muhammad speculate, “When you’re going down, as the white middle class has been doing for several years now, it’s all too easy to imagine that it’s because someone else is climbing up over your back.”

Predictably, (white) “frontier” men like Perry and “traditional” (white) women like Bachmann have emerged as the heroes of the conservative’s recycled tale of redemption. In one fell swoop, they will stamp out moral pathology and bring back economic prosperity in the name of “real America.” (While Bachmann might “submit” to her husband, this “hombre-ette” claims she has the balls to take on Washington.)

In contrast, the “sissies” of this story are labor organizers, community activists, professors, and basically anyone left of center (or arguably, centrist). Workers’ grievances, intellectual analysis, and anything smacking of “wealth redistribution” or “social justice” are marked as effeminate, effete, even queer. After all, real American men suck it up at all cost. Real men (and their faithful women) don’t protest about working conditions, or the poor state of public education, or the lack of affordable healthcare. Unfortunately, these calls for (white) men to stand up and be men, and for (white) women to stand by their men, come at the expense of building progressive coalitions for change across racial, gender, class, and other differences.

Middle-class liberals and leftists are by no means blameless for the current state of affairs. We have largely sat back and watched all of this happen, throwing up our hands in dismay while living smugly in our supposedly “post-racial” bourgeois enclaves. Some even naively hoped that voting Barack Obama (“the Magic Negro”) into the White House would suddenly change the political and economic trajectory of the United States. (But that’s just not how change happens.)

At the same time that liberals have allowed the Right to hijack popular definitions of masculinity, family, and the “real America,” they have also played into the general erasure of class from political discussions. The democrats’ (especially President Obama’s) hesitancy to call the debt-ceiling crisis for what it was – a means to preserve the privilege of the wealthy at the expense of the rest of America – is just another example of the reticence of many U.S. liberals to acknowledge and discuss the persistence of gaping wealth disparities.

In a recent episode of the Real Housewives of New York, Alex McCord declared that she would rather say “see you next Tuesday” (read: c-u-n-t) than ever utter the other c-word, “class.” The implication being that class is not something for polite conversation; it’s a dirty word. Before the recession, many middle-class liberals assumed that “class” didn’t apply to them, turning a blind eye to the nation’s increasingly unequal distribution of wealth. Now that the same issues that first hit those at the bottom of the economic ladder are making their way upward, they suddenly want action.

The solution for liberals and leftists is not to become more ruggedly Alpha-male or to invest their energies in upholding patriarchy. This is no time to throw our collective “dicks” on the table – we will never win that pissing contest, nor should we want to. Instead, we need to be more forceful in calling the Right out on its clever, yet perverse manipulation of racial, gender, and sexual stereotypes. We need to call them out on their fake populism.

We also need to develop strong and inclusive coalitions, in ways that don’t involve the proverbial chest-thumping and demonization of those who aren’t like us or those who don’t fit prevailing definitions of “normal.” We need to foster movements for change that go beyond a narrow focus on individual rights and “family” in the most narrowly constructed ways.

The “real America” is already standing up, but not always in ways that are palatable to our bourgeois sensibilities. We need to take seriously the voices of prisoners on hunger strikes, of student and community activists working in the inner cities, and even of flash mobs expressing their frustration at the unequal state of the affairs. They have something to teach us, if we will just listen.

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Theresa Runstedtler is Assistant Professor of American Studies at the University at Buffalo and, postdoctoral fellow at the University of Pennsylvania's Penn Humanities Forum for the 2011-2012 academic year.  Her book, tentatively titled, Jack Johnson, Rebel Sojourner: Boxing in the Shadow of the Global Color Line (University of California Press) drops in Spring 2012.