Anne M. Plant is a recent widow with two young daughters, 13 and 8, who traded their E! entourage lifestyle in Los Angeles for stability and structure in a provincial town on the Virginian peninsula. Now here's the true unfolding story of how Anne's sister and Army officer brother in law opened up their home. They have three children of their own; a girl, 13, a boy who's 10 and Baby Binkles who is one. Taking in Anne and her two makes eight! The melding together of these two families is Operation Brady Bunch and it is high adventure.
Somehow the radio news story of the Jena 6 captured the attention of my eight-year-old daughter, Poosie. Unlike her transient romances with ponies or Nintendo DS, she latched onto this and didn't lose interest. Perhaps it was the shear gripping drama of the Louisiana story that started under a tree with nooses hung from its branches and culminated in six black high school students beating up one white after months of friction. The attackers are now facing steep consequences. Perhaps it's because she wants to go to Yale and become a lawyer. Or, perhaps it's because we had once sent her to a socially conscious private school in Los Angeles. Regardless, the odds were stacked against her receiving any support for this newfound obsession.
We have moved in with my sister and her family in a small town in Virginia. She's now one of five children and the chances of getting parental support for this extracurricular personal interest were slim to none. Still, Poosie was undaunted, inspired and tenacious. She felt a great injustice was being dealt those African American boys and she wanted to express it. Her intention was to make an unassigned current event presentation in class Monday morning. Though I was sick as a dog in bed, she kept nudging me until I got up to do the right parental thing and support my child's intellectual curiosity. I printed out several photos, including one of the bruised victim, and provided the scissors and glue so she could prepare her poster board.
That Sunday night at family meeting we were deep in discussion about the Jena 6. Wide-eyed and with a few questions, the children participated in our debate examining individual responsibility and how it transcends color. We also pounded out a deeper recognition of the existence of hate and its effects on human beings, specifically African Americans. Finally, after an impossibly cute, herky-jerky presentation of more or less the facts on her posterboard, Poosie concluded our meeting by taking questions from the floor. We were merciless in preparing her for court.
"Do you think it's okay for six guys to beat up on one guy who is unconscious?"
Without hesitation and not previously discussed, Poosie served us up some of our very best conservative, all-American household logic: "You always tell me never hit first, but if you get hit, hit 'em back hard so they don't come back." I was momentarily stunned. She was right. That's exactly what the boys had done and that's exactly what we've taught her (contrary to her former pacifist school). She saw the nooses and the friction that went before for exactly what they were -- attacks. Her logic was simple and pure. In my moment of disarmed and prideful pause, I considered the corollary lesson we had also given: "And if you do, be prepared to accept the consequences." Therein lies a rub. Are the consequences really the same for all Americans?
In excited anticipation I picked Poosie up from school the next day. I was so proud of her dedication and follow-through on this project I couldn't wait to hear how it went. She flatly explained that the teacher had not allowed her to make her presentation, maybe tomorrow. I got it. On many levels this was not easy for the teacher to spontaneously incorporate into her day. Her classroom agenda was already jam-packed, it was not February and this was a polemic topic. There was no way to control what Poosie was going to say, how the children would hear it and how it would be telegraphed home. Yet, in an effort to support her, Poosie was promised a special lunch with the teacher for a one-on-one discussion
Now, I've never considered myself a firebrand. I would not willing to burn my bra on TV, join a million-whomever for whatever march, or God forbid, incite pitchforks and torches to descend upon this small Virginia school, but this situation unsettled me in a deep moral conscious sort of way. The purpose of this little project had now gone beyond affirming nurturing my daughter's sense of social responsibility and thirst for knowledge. This was not a dry presentation on the gestational cycle of frogs -- this was important. Undoubtedly, my sentiments were influenced by my prior experience in Los Angeles and my recent multi-cultural discussions in graduate school. I had just sat through a lecture on "broaching." Broaching is purposefully not avoiding a racial issue, but addressing it in some way to strengthen relationships. For whatever reasons, the Jena 6 subject was not being broached and the "white silence" continued.
The white silence is not limited to our school, but is clearly a national phenomenon. Before the Jena 6 hit mainstream news I had heard of the story from our neighbor. She had come over for a cup of coffee and yes, she is black. The chat drifted toward current events and she mentioned Jena. Neither my sister nor I had even heard of Jena, let alone knew it to be a hot topic. Clearly the story had been a headliner in the African American media for some time, but failed to capture a national audience. Now, I get it that news distributors only survive if it "sells" to its consumer base. This is a story that "sells" to the black community. But I also get it now how we consumers contribute the isolation of others by not bothering to involve ourselves in the discussion. I could see how my neighbor was affected by an issue I was completely unaware of. I could see how the minority families at Poosie's school were isolated from the general community.
I went to see the principal at the school, an intelligent, well-educated woman. She was very open and helpful. We discussed some challenges in broaching the Jena 6 topic. Our student body is predominately white with approximately 15 percent African American and 5 percent other minorities. In addition to the white majority, it is not a topic directly affecting elementary school-aged children and it does not seem to be reverberating through our community. Finally, unlike a private school, the public school does not have quite the freedom of agenda. However, neither I nor the school wanted to leave the topic untouched. The principal was very supportive of plumbing interest in a community building discussion on the subject. My next step was to talk to the president of the PTA. I was not sure what to expect. I guess I had my own prejudices of women who get heavily involved in the PTA -- particularly small town women. To my great delight and bias-crashing discovery, it was a woman I had met over the summer who was very responsive in trying to pull something together. She was even sure to suggest planning the discussion at a time working parents (who comprise a good bit of the minority) would be able to come. We are now in the proposal stages.
The Jena 6 was not a celebrity salacious event like OJ. Nor did it have violent riots; perhaps it should have. If it did, it might have kept rapt national attention, it might've broken the white silence. Six against one -- who is unconscious -- was a serious crime that deserved punishment. Clearly, these boys don't deserve a near get-out-of-jail-free card à la OJ and Rodney King and Reginald Denny's attackers. And I, like many who immediately recoiled every time the "race card" was played, had no desire to sacrifice another white male in an effort to simply appease. But we must get over our knee jerk reactions. The issue is not whether the six should be held accountable. The really important, disturbing issue is the seemingly uneven application of law in comparable cases and all incidences leading up to that event. That is the real topic about which we can't get all of the facts. I want to know if justice is blind down there or is it still stuck in the pre-'60's Southern mentality. Why is hanging nooses not a crime in Jena? In this case it is as clear and obvious a threat to life as a gun in an inner city high school. My eight-year-old daughter gets that. Like spray-painted swastikas, the presence of nooses (absent in OJ, Rodney & Reginald's cases) calls the rest of us to look under the Jena rock for the prejudice thriving and attacking from its fortified position. This is the national discussion we should all be having. If you need, Poosie is available for presentations to get the topic rolling.