I Am Hopeless

Most of my adult life has been spent working in positions where I can help others.  In 1973, I obtained an AA degree in Human Services, a program intended to develop lower-level support positions within the mental health profession.  It was my intention to pursue an advanced degree in psychology, but instead became involved with the Pentecostal church and served in the ministry for many years.

I began my return to secular employment by obtaining a degree in Applied Behavioral Science. For a couple of years, I worked as a social rehabilitation coordinator in a day program for people with mental illness; obtained a Master of Science degree in management; worked for a college-based program providing academic advisement, tuition assistance and work readiness training to displaced homemakers and single parents; and, eventually, worked as a personnel analyst for Calvert County Government in Maryland where I conducted job recruitment for the county.

In 1997, I was forced to retire on disability due to my declining vision.  Until my move from Maryland to Florida in 2001, I volunteered at a local marine museum.  In 2002, I was licensed as a massage therapist.  Since then, I have maintained an active practice in which I have been able to address a wide range of physical and stress-related concerns.

In light of this background, I have always believed that I was a kind and supportive person.  However, after many years of reflection, I must admit that I have numerous biases that will not go away no matter how much I may want them to.  I have finally decided to simply acknowledge their existence and consciously try to override them when they poke up their little heads.

I am usually able to keep them to myself.  As I told my sons in their youth, “Just because it comes between your ears, doesn’t mean that it has to come out of your mouth.”    That has generally been my approach to my lurking biases. Having admitted this, they say that confession is good for the soul, so let me try a little bit of that.

Whenever I hear a southern or New York accent, I automatically deduct 20 points off of the IQ assessment I arbitrarily assign to the speaker. I subtract even more when I hear an athlete who is being interviewed speak in short, clipped improper sentences interspersed every five words with “You know”.  I am aware that this is an inaccurate perception and make every effort to take myself by the scruff of the neck and listen more attentively.

I am an old guy who was raised in the north.  From elementary school upwards, I attended integrated schools.  Like many others, I would have declared myself free of racist tendencies until a few years ago.  While I still resist referring to myself as a racist, I will readily admit to a preference for western European culture and physical appearance.

To overcome this particular personal defect, I have found it extremely beneficial to read a variety of African American literature.  I have read several of the works of Zora Neal Hurston.  “The African American Book of Values: Classic Moral Stories” edited by Steven Barboza and published in 1998 is an outstanding collection of uplifting stories about black individuals throughout American history.  More recently, I have read two marvelous books by Isabel Wilkerson, “The Warmth of Other Suns” and “Caste: The Origins of Our Discontents”.  I will never fully comprehend what it means to grow up black in our nation, but these and other sources have given me a deep appreciation for the incredible struggle our fellow Americans have had to endure in the face of unrelenting racial suppression.

My current struggle concerns those who have refused the Covid 19 vaccine.  On the one hand, I feel that I should be compassionate about the suffering and death of those who succumb to the illness.  However, unlike a regional accent or ethnic origin, failing to be vaccinated is a decision, not an accident of birth. 

This action is not merely a personal decision.  They are endangering the health of others in their community and possibly our entire planet. Often the resistance to receiving the vaccine is accompanied by a disregard for mask wearing and social distancing.  They potentially expose vaccinated individuals to infections that may go undetected and further the spread of the virus.  Furthermore, as the cases multiply, it presents a greater opportunity for the viruses to mutate and potentially produce a variant that is resistant to the vaccines that have been developed such as the new Lambda variant.

I am angry with those who are filling the internet with completely bogus information against the vaccines, those who are accepting this misinformation as superior to that being provided by legitimate scientific sources and refusing to get the vaccine, those in the conservative media who are fueling this element of our population merely to promote viewership, the elected officials who are pandering to these constituents in an effort to solicit their political support and, most recently, those who blame the resurgence of Covid 19 on undocumented aliens crossing the Mexican border.  The fact that the surging numbers of infections are not prompting a more rational response to the crisis is thoroughly exasperating. 

The ones I feel most sorry for are the healthcare workers, the vaccinated individuals who have suffered a breakthrough infection, those who have not had access to adequate medical care and the relatives and acquaintances who are unable to reason with their unreasonable friends and family members regarding the vaccine.  I wish I could be a better human being.  Unfortunately, I am finding it extremely difficult to feel sympathy for people who are so willful when they reap such a predictable and preventable outcome.