Affirmative action? *humor*

Neo Martinez szmrtnz at peseta.ucdavis.edu
Wed Mar 22 01:36:15 EST 1995


Here's a little affirmative action humor from the March 16, 1995 San 
Francisco Examiner written by Rob Morse.  It makes important points to 
keep in mind.				-neo
					bodega marine lab
					uc-davis

White men still run America (Ninety-one percent of all executives are 
WMs).  They're doing it so badly there are fewer jobs for everyone.  But 
the way insecure white men tell the story, disabled African American 
lesbians took their jobs.

It all comes down to stories.  Mine is called "How good, old-fashioned 
white man's affirmative action worked for me."  It probably worked 
something like this for the exec who sent your job to Macao.

It was back in the '60s and'70s, before Richard Nixon pumped up 
affirmative action for black Americans.  My affirmative action was prep 
school.  There I learned basic skills, including test-taking.  Senior 
year I put in a few hours with a No. 2 pencil, and got into Harvard.

It helped that I was from Rhode Island.  In the '60s they had 
"geographical distribution," not quotas.  Being from a small state was a 
plus.  Nobody sneered at me as being unqualified because I came from 
Rhode Island.  

Well, I was unqualified to be at the nation's leading university, but so 
were half the other young men.  Most of the football team and sons of 
alumni would have made adequate janitors.  Only a dozen kids in my class 
of 1,200 were black.  They were very well qualified, except perhaps for a 
couple of the African princes.

Nowadays there are more minority students at Harvard, but just as many 
idiot sons of rich alumni.  The point is, qualifications are what you 
make them.  You might as well pick qualifications that spread the 
American dream around.

After Harvard I was qualified to go out and rule the world.  Instead I 
bartended and taught school (as the only male I was offered the job of 
pricipal after two years).  Finally, I achieved downward mobility by 
getting into journalism as a messenger.

Level playing field?  Nothing's quite on the level.





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