November 6–13, 1997

loose canon

Can White Boys Play the Blues?

 

Can White Boys Play the Blues?

By Bruce Schimmel

 

Samuel Johnson, the 18th-century literary critic, once remarked that a woman preaching is like a dog standing on his hind legs. It was not so much a question of how well it was done, but that it could be done at all.

Such were the nasty thoughts in my head 15 years ago when I saw that a rabbi, a woman, was about to eulogize a friend who had died of AIDS.

I was skeptical, and hopeful. Skeptical because I feared she'd only won the job because she was female; hopeful that she'd do better than merely stagger around.

The woman rabbi did better, much better, than merely keep upright. She was downright uprighteous.

The woman rabbi's eulogy was doubly poignant. For although, she, as a woman, had clearly overcome the religious prejudice that hobbled her sex, she was unable to address directly the social prejudice against AIDS, responsible in part for the young man's death.

The family had requested that she remain silent on AIDS, which she respected, brilliantly, by speaking in a code that only those who knew the truth would understand.

Did the woman rabbi get a boost to the pulpit because she was a woman?

Did the woman rabbi negotiate the social injustice of AIDS better because she was a woman?

Can white boys sing the blues?

Could they sing it better because they have overcome the adversity of being white?

I dunno. I dunno. I dunno. I dunno.

I do know that questions of prejudice are being debated, voted on and adjudicated upon, and that the answers are ambiguous.

This week, the Supreme Court refused to hear a challenge to California's Proposition 209, which would cut back "preferential" treatment of minorities.

Yet this week, the people of Houston voted to retain the city's affirmative action law.

There are no clear answers, which means that questions of affirmative action are still being formulated. That's good.

It is good to revisit the whole concept of "certified" minorities. To ask if fairness to some demands injustice to others. If we are fine tuning the scales of social justice with a jeweler's screwdriver, or if we're destroying them with a sledgehammer.

It is a healthy debate because the forums are varied, because the issues appear in the courts, in legislatures and on the ballot, and because the issues affect housing, employment, education and, in part, religion.

It is a messy debate because finding a just and moral path is a messy process.

Howard Altman, news editor of City Paper, is a white boy. Every year, he sings the employer's blues, that of trying to find good reporters from diverse backgrounds. His results have been mixed, but he keeps trying.

Howard also performs the blues. He plays the harmonica—the blues harp—and he sings the blues. He's damn good on the harp, though his singing is still something of a howl.

It takes work to teach any dog—old or middle-aged—new tricks. Achieving equity is a delicate balancing act. But just as women preachers (and rabbis) have learned and are expected to stand tall and sing a moral course, so will we all find the harmony of a just society.