'Honey, We Need to Talk'
A few years ago when I was covering a national political convention for a television network, one of the anchors pulled me aside to tell me that he had observed that I had "only" interviewed black people. "Try to grow," he said, or something like that. I was furious. By that time in my career, I had interviewed actors, golf pros, gang members, heads of state, world famous symphony conductors and victims of every conceivable disaster. In essence, I had been talking to white people -- and all other kinds of people -- my entire professional life about all kinds of things.
My job as floor correspondent was to seek out the most interesting people I could find -- plus, there weren't that many black people at that convention! What the anchor said to me simply could not be true, I thought.
As the sportscasters say, let's go to the videotape. I looked at what had been on the air. The anchor had gone to me exactly once for an on-camera exchange with a convention delegate, and indeed, the person I interviewed was African-American. But the reason I selected that delegate had nothing to do with her race -- it was because she was from a swing state. Even more interesting, the correspondent who followed me -- a white person -- had also interviewed an African-American, also for reasons that had nothing to do with her race. The perception was that both interviews were mine.
Race affects perception; I might even say distorts it. I don't know why it does -- I just know that it does. Black people and white people often disagree about what words like "integrated" or "diverse" mean. If a previously segregated country club decides to admit one black member is it "integrated"? If a previously all-black college or university has a small white or Latino student population, is it "diverse"? Clearly, some minority cultural figures have universal appeal. But to achieve that appeal, is there a limit to how much reference can be made to that person's heritage?
Many people claim they "don't notice" race. Overseas, it can be said, African-Americans often report that they are more likely to be viewed as American than as black. And if that's the case it's because their "American-ness" -- the power that comes with their passport and their resources -- proves far more relevant to their travel experience than their race. But in this country, when people say they "don't notice" race, often what they're really saying is that racial issues don't interest them, don't affect them (at least not negatively) or they just don't want to talk about those issues. That may be fine for them, but what if other people's lives are affected by race? What if those affected do want to talk about it?
I'm bringing this up because I am responding again to some of the listener posts about this new program we are developing. As I have previously noted, the vast majority of the responses have been extremely constructive and supportive, even when people haven't liked everything we've sent out. Some have questioned whether the perspective of the show, so far, is too heavily weighted toward African-Americans -- a fair point, worth discussion.
But there is another group of respondents that I feel I must address. You will not have seen all of these posts because some of them are abusive, which violates the terms of this online community. Still, I need to talk about their logic. I want to challenge it.
Essentially, they are saying that because this program clearly highlights voices of persons of color, that this program has no right to exist. Some seem to think if a program is not catering to them, it is discriminating against them. Others are just not interested in either our topics or our approach. But it isn't enough that they can choose not to listen to us. They seem to believe that whatever does not interest them should not be discussed on the air. By anybody.
Now think about that.
If we lived in a world where there was only one radio program you could listen to, and that program had to meet all your needs for news and information, then I could see where you might say, "You know, I don't really care if you feel it's important to make your holiday celebrations reflect your culture." But we are not in that world.
We are in a world of hundreds of channels and hundreds of listening opportunities in news and talk, on satellite, Web, radio and podcasts. Do you really want to tell me there's no room for another program where people can talk about distinct challenges and interests that relate to their culture and heritage? Is there really no room to discuss issues from a perspective other than that of the majority?
For some people, maybe not. Last spring, when I was sitting in for Neal Conan on Talk of the Nation, the news that week had been super serious and I wanted to do a couple of minutes of lighter fare. So I invited one of the nation's top fashion and business writers on the program to talk about what was considered "hot" in spring fashion. I got I don't know how many calls or e-mails complaining that the segment was stupid. (I note that the Washington Post's Robin Givhan, fashion writer extraordinaire, won the Pulitzer Prize for criticism not a week later -- but I digress.)
I wondered why these people had such a sense of entitlement? I would never dream of calling up and chastising Neal for talking about baseball, which is, like fashion, both a diversion and a huge business. If he and millions of other people are passionate about it, why can't he talk about it? And if he can talk about baseball, why can't I talk about shoes?
I draw the same analogy to race, which is, after all, just another relationship. We are all here together, sometimes happily, sometimes uncomfortably. In any relationship, interests and priorities will differ. Sometimes it's funny (spring fashion vs. baseball). Sometimes the differences are quite profound requiring serious and ongoing discussion. In all partnerships where there is any equality at all, the time will come when a partner will put up his or her hand and say, "Honey, we need to talk." Sometimes the other partner doesn't want to hear it. But that doesn't mean the issue has gone away -- far from it. People of good will find a way to talk. The great thing about this experience is that I have discovered just how many of you are people of good will, who only want to be shown a way into the conversation. We are committed to doing just that. And the great thing about us is if you're not ready for it, you can turn us off and come back later and you won't have to sleep on the couch!
In this space we're going to talk. I hope you join us. And don't forget that this week I am in Los Angeles. I'm sitting in for Farai Chideya at News & Notes on Friday. Wish me luck. Sitting in someone else's anchor chair is like driving somebody else's car -- you don't want to leave any crumbs, and you sure don't want to crash.
Michel Martin
10:34 AM ET
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01-25-2007
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