Category Archives: Blog

The Help: A Harmful Fairy Tale

The Help has certainly garnered its share of attention and awards. Many critics, including some highly respected reviewers, have unreservedly praised the film. The performances of Viola Davis and others mesmerized many moviegoers and are indeed outstanding. Some people have complained about the trite and oversimplified plot—that it is more fairy tale than history but these comments often get lost among the raves and award mentions.

 I agree that it is a fairy tale. More than that, it is a harmful fairy tale.

As in many movies with historical settings, it is easy to be seduced into thinking that the plot at least echoes the actual history.  That is what makes The Help harmful. For African Americans living in Mississippi and elsewhere in the South during the early 1960s, “history as it actually happened” was an unending sequence of terror and violence. Perceived—let alone actual—offenses against white people most often had disastrous and life-ending consequences. (From 1882 through 1968, Mississippi experienced the most lynchings of any state in the Union.)

Consider one of the film’s most important scenes. When Minny, a domestic worker, served up a pie full of excrement to the most vicious of the white women, she lost her job. If she actually had served up such a pie during that time, there is a very high probability that  she would have lost her life, family members would have lost theirs, or—at a minimum—she would have been “taught a lesson” more severe than job displacement.

In an era that produced the brutal assassinations of Medgar Evers (a Civil Rights activist in Mississippi, who was killed in 1963) and many others, are we so naïve as to believe that losing one’s job would be the ultimate penalty for offending a white employer in such a manner?  And while Medgar Evers’ death was mentioned in the film, it seems strange that its impact on the African American characters was largely ignored. The true story, of course, would not make an award-winning Hollywood movie, but instead an R-rated film full of lynchings, constant fear, and brutal beatings. That would be shameful as opposed to celebratory, and shameful doesn’t sell in Hollywood!

Also missing from the movie version of The Help (it was addressed in the book) is the rape of African American women by the “master” of the house. Why was that left out? In the film, the worst indignity involves the unwillingness of some white women to give their African American domestic workers—who cleaned for them, cooked for them, and cared for their children—permission to use their toilets. This is indeed a fairy tale version of what life was really like for those women.

In this context—with its pervasive fear, the constant threat of brutality, and the justified resentment it engendered—it is nearly inconceivable that African American women who worked as domestic workers in the early sixties would “rise up” to tell their stories to a white writer, even if it was someone they knew. They would have been putting their lives and their families in harm’s way. True, many brave African Americans did put their lives and families on the line to gain their civil rights (with the support of some white allies), and The Help does give us snapshots of the women’s fear of talking about their experiences. Ultimately, though, that fear—like most of the realities of that time—is downplayed.

Why does this matter? Because this false rewrite of history provides a false sense of what happened in the United States. By making the U.S. and Mississippi look better than they were at the time, the film joins a movement that is already too much in abundance: glossing over or erasing the true description of the plight of people who have been oppressed by systems that are still impacting millions today.

The movie’s conclusion leaves viewers content with the sense that the system of white privilege has been breached: that “the help” are the victors. As such, it obscures two facts that are critical for us to understand if we are to appreciate and advance the cause of dialogue about race. First, the struggle for civil rights went on far longer (indeed, it still goes on) and was far more perilous than the early 1960s as portrayed in The Help. Second, what The Help tells us is that we still live in a society that wants to underplay the role and impact of racism. Clearly, we have a long way to go.

I Dumped Facebook: Disconnecting from the Constant Connection

When I think of all of the relationships in my life, I generally start with my parents, siblings, children, friends, and co-workers.  On days when I contemplate the subject even more, I might include my doctor, my mail carrier, and my neighbors.  Recently I started to think about how much time I spend with all of these people.  Do I see all of them face to face every day? Do I call them every day and talk with them voice to voice, so I can listen to the emotion they might project in the sound I hear? No—and—no, I do not. 

I get up, text my youngest sister good morning, and receive texts on my way into work.  When I get to work I start my computer, and while I wait for it to load up, I check my email on my phone.  My home page was Facebook, so EVERY morning I would get a never-ending stream of other people’s status—some VERY personal, some funny, some offensive, and some sad.  I get real news from The Huffington Post, and fake news from The Onion.  I get spiritual messages from the Dalai Lama and political messages from every cause I have ever supported. 

I turned Facebook on in the morning and it was the last thing I saw before I went to bed at night.  With all the time I invested in my relationship with Facebook, we should have been engaged, or at least it should have been buying me dinner or drinks, whisking me away for a romantic weekend.  It had become my life partner.  Now, if FB was a person, a partner, a friend—and all I did was read, listen to, and participate with them morning, noon, and night – my family, children, and co-workers would be concerned that I was losing myself in this relationship.  And they would be right. 

If I WANT to know what is going on in my sisters’ lives, friends’ lives, or the Dalai Lama’s life, I can make that happen.  I can call my sister and hear in her voice that she has had a tough day. I can visit her and find out that something hysterical happened to her and I would hear her laugh AND I would get the opportunity to laugh with her—instead of seeing “lol : o”

When I started my relationship with Facebook it was to stay connected, to be informed about everything that was going on, and to feel like a part of something that was worldwide.  What I came to know is that connection no longer meant “personal” to me.  Everyone, everywhere on my “list” knew everything, not just about me, but about others as well.  My excitement and anticipation of the little red quote icon over my comments, messages, or invites started to feel the same as when I was a smoker and couldn’t wait to get outside to light one.  It felt like an addiction to a harmful substance. 

So I quit—cold turkey. As I write this, it has been 24 hours, 2 minutes, and 35 seconds since I posted my last status, and I can feel my connection to reality coming back.  I am now five times more likely to smile when I see you, 10 times more likely to laugh at the jokes you tell, and 20 times more likely to really listen to what you have to say.

Carpet, Red Riding Hood, and the Dark Unknown

It was April Fool’s Day. No matter what I was listening to, reading, or looking at, it was in some way referring to foolishness.  I was kind of annoyed and felt just a little bit smarter than all of the silliness going on around me; I was about to go listen to Elizabeth Lesser, founder of the Omega Institute in Rhinebeck, New York—and she was no fool. 

So, off I went, into the big room with so many seats. It was very different from being in the earthy haven that Rhinebeck, nestled in the Hudson Valley of upstate New York, typically offers; this was structured, orchestrated, and heavily, heavily carpeted, maybe even on the walls, I’m not quite sure.  It was slightly suffocating.  I wasn’t sure what this experience would bring; it was already so different from the Omega campus, which oozed nature and life force.

Totally feeling like I was at a Michael Jackson concert—or like the nerd I was in college—I went (ran) up front, sat down with my pen and paper, and put my glasses on so I could actually read what I was writing. I was intent on absorbing as much as I possibly could from what Elizabeth was about to say.

She came to the stage and started to tell the story of Little Red Riding Hood.  A photo of a red-cloaked girl, brilliant against the lush green of a partially lit forest, appeared on the screen in front of us.  I looked up at it, and Elizabeth’s voice carried the thoughts that accompanied my eyes down the path of the light to where the forest grew dark.  The cloak was stopped in the middle, stuck, seemingly paralyzed. Would it move forward, or stay in the sun, where all was known and all was familiar?

As the story of Red Riding Hood rose into metaphor and insight, the energy in the room expanded, the air became light, and the carpet seemed to disappear from under my feet.

The insight became clear:  we are all on a path, all finding our way between the darkness and the light.  What are we carrying? How close to or how far from the path do we veer? In the darkness, it is hard to see if there is light on the other side. For all of us, this is how each journey begins.  Are we fools to wander out of the light, off the path, into the darkness, into the unknown? Or are we fools not to?

Elizabeth said, “We must learn to embrace the unknowable.” That reminded me of Rilke: “Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves.”

Embrace the question. Embrace the unknown.  Every day there will be an unknown; every day is unknown, and can’t be known until it is lived.  Attempting to control and know what hasn’t come is a fool’s journey. At the same time, only a fool will walk into the unknown to embrace it, to live it, and to learn.

There is not one of us who is not a fool in some way. We move through life, or we watch it go by.   Do we embrace the darkness to find a greater light, or do we stay in the light we know, afraid of the unknown, destined to wear grooves in a path already walked?

I have never wanted to think of myself as a fool—and I have never looked at another as a fool. In this place on this 1 April, the room was filled with beautiful fools, all of us there because the edge of the darkness was not far enough for our journey.  Into the picture, onto the path, out of the light, into the unknown we go.

Christmastime is Here, but it’s Not Alone

There is an ongoing controversy brewing in the hearts, minds and faith of millions of people in the United States around the issue of Christmas being driven from the cultural landscape. As one would imagine this is a complicated and sensitive issue.

From the perspective of many Christians, I can understand how the increasing disappearance of Christmas iconography and displays can feel like a war has been declared against Christmas. Yet, there is another side to this conversation that also must be factored into the discussion.

Despite the perception that Christian-related symbols are being ushered from the public landscape, an abundance of Christmas-related images are still on display in many public places, many more than for other religious holidays that occur during the same time of year. From a perspective of someone who is not Christian it can feel like Christmas is everywhere and yet from a Christian’s point of view it may seem that the displays are less frequent and less religiously based. With scant few examples of other publicly recognized religious observances, including Hannukah, Buddhism’s Bodhi day, the Muslim Feast of Sacrifice and the celebration by African Americans of Kwanzaa, aside from Christmas, I think it’s important to establish that from the point of view of these other religions, “generic” symbols such as Christmas trees, wreaths, garland, candy canes and sleighs full of presents, Santa at every mall, still appear very Christian.

An even more sensitive, and what may be the key, issue involves nativity scenes on display in public places, and especially on government property. The privately owned local mall may be fine for such a display, especially if it provides space for other religious displays. Conversely, government and municipal buildings, including schools, would not be appropriate places, as our laws continue to support a separation of church and state.

Ultimately, I think the issue comes down to an established privilege reinforced by a one-up and one-down public mindset. The group in the one-up position, in this case Christians, see their symbols as the rule and not the exception. However, when there becomes an increase of exceptions, the one-up group thinks the rules are changing when in reality what is occurring is a leveling of the playing field. When it comes to the public display of religious symbols during the December holidays we should be looking to create an “And” not an “Either” and to treat each others as allies instead of adversaries. Only then can members of all religions, including Christian, Jewish, Muslim and Hindu, be recognized, respected and appreciated for their unique beliefs. buy cialisbuy cialisbuy levitrabuy levitrabuy propeciabuy propeciabuy somabuy somabuy levitrabuy cialisbuy propeciabuy levitrabuy somabuy cialisbuy propeciabuy levitrabuy somabuy cialisbuy levitrabuy propeciabuy soma

Change in the Middle

jamison_corey_web.jpgRadical transparency is a management method where nearly all conversation and decision making is carried out publicly. According to Clive Thompson’s article The See-Through CEO Southwest Airlines has an internal blog on which employees ranging from marketing executives to ticket agents post about their jobs and personal lives. When CEO Gary Kelly posted about Southwest possibly adopting assigned seating – ending its first come, first seated policy – more than 600 people commented. At firms like Zappos.com CEO Tony Hsieh experiments with levels of disclosure that most executives would consider inappropriate. One example is their internal wiki that allows staff members to complain about problems and suggest solutions.

This morning I had a break-through conversation with the CEO of one of our clients. Through the course of our intervention this organization has spent millions of dollars, taken people out of the field for days at a time and expended valuable time and resources to distribute the message of inclusion in a meaningful way. Yesterday though, he got feedback about an incident that happened out in the field from some people who have not yet been involved in any of the work or education regarding inclusion. Since one of the individuals involved was considered by the others to be “a friend” of the CEO there was a feeling that nothing should be said to him. The unspoken message was that the person involved should be handled with kids gloves because of his friendship with the CEO. The key element of the incident though was that the individuals affected by this incident thought that senior management, including the CEO, talked a big game around inclusion but really didn’t care; that the CEO had a sliding scale of inclusive values when it came to the old ways and those with whom he had a personal relationship, yet this could not be further from the truth.

One of the most difficult parts of working with organizations is keeping leaders engaged when there is a ripple effect in terms of how long it takes the new inclusive culture, mindsets and behaviors to reach people in their day to day lives. For senior leaders like this CEO who are taking time away from running the day to day business and expending tremendous resources, not to mention taking personal risks to challenge and evolve their own thinking, mindsets and behaviors, it’s terribly frustrating for them to hear that there persists a perception that they don’t care. Additionally, these same core leaders will feel as if their efforts are not only going unrecognized, but that the overwhelming reaction of the people of the organization is that they aren’t doing anything at all; that the work on inclusion is nothing but lip service for appearance sake.

To keep the senior management team engaged and effectively communicate the efforts around inclusion across the organization I recommended to this client that he open up, be honest, show that he cares and reach directly to the stakeholders in such a way that is shocking and against the old way of thinking that pervades the organization’s culture. I recommended that he, like other CEOs struggling with difficult issues, start Blogging to circumvent the effects of the lag time.

The real issue is that people within the organization don’t feel the change or even realize change is occurring around them because as Kaleel used to say, “Change in the middle feels like failure.” There is a natural lag time, or rather a disconnect, between when leaders feel like they’re making change and when change becomes evident.

Social networking platforms such as blogs can engage a younger audience while providing an opportunity for leaders to think differently about how they connect with their people—and likewise how their people connect with them. They also provide an opportunity for leaders to express real emotion and to pull back the curtain of their mythological image and reveal their true selves to their people while fighting the organizational “mythologies” and old mindsets about them.

By blogging candidly and truthfully about not only incidents like the one that just occurred, but also about his reaction to them and about the continuing efforts to create a more inclusive environment for all its people there would be shortening of the timeline between when the leaders start to change and when the organization catches up.

Dumbledore’s Pensieve Realized in the Organizational Blog

jamison_corey_web.jpgIn the Harry Potter series, Hogwarts Headmaster Professor Albus Dumbledore uses a Pensieve as a repository for his memories. The Pensieve was a way for Dumbledore to re-live experiences as an observer. Though he could not change or alter the memories, he could use them to learn from his mistakes, remember his successes and retain his vast wisdom.

For businesses looking for ways to effectively integrate social media and other Web 2.0 technology into their organizations, why not consider blogging as a Pensieve-like tool to document and save the progression of thinking, wisdom and understanding a person has accumulated over the years?

For example, imagine the value in creating a repository for the daily thoughts, challenges and inspirations of an exceptional project manager. Not just a technical recitation of her day, but a glimpse of how she and her team worked through a project from beginning to endthe pitfalls to avoid, the dead ends to circumvent and the answers to problems that almost certainly will arise for others handling similar projects.

Blogs can be Rosetta Stones that connect people within an organization through a medium that crosses cultural, hierarchical and generational divides, especially important for organizations that are experiencing a “boomer exodus.” Organizations need to save the progression of thinking, wisdom and understanding that a person leaving has accumulated over a period of years through a daily journal of not only the milestones and significant lessons, but also the day-to-day, seemingly insignificant incidents, because how often is it that what we consider trivial in the moment becomes crucial in the future?

The organizational blog, like the fictional Pensieve, has the potential to be a living document used to re-live experiences, learn from mistakes, remember successes and retain wisdom.

How is your organization identifying, capturing and leveraging the wisdom and best practices of its people?