16 April 2007

The dreaded "H" word

I guess, in view of the whole Don Imus thing (which I've been waiting to see blow over) we need to just drop any use of the sound "ho."

When the Seven Dwarves sing that silly little song of theirs in the new release (surely only a few years away) the lyrics will need to be changed from Heigh Ho to (what?) Heigh Hee?

Heigh Hee
Heigh Hee
It's off the work we go...

Nope. Actually that won't work. Oh, I know.

Heigh hee,
Heigh hee,
It's off to work we be.

Actually I don't think that's going to work either. "We be" is the way some African-Americans say "We are" in ebonics, isn't it. (Forgive this awkwardness on my part: the African-Americans I know don't employ ebonics, so I'm clueless in such matters. What I do know is that verb, tense, number, voice or mood do not seem very important to ebonics.)

Bye, bye, seven dwarves.

What about Santa Claus? Ho, ho, ho? I don't think so.

Heh, heh, heh. Merry Christmas.

Okay. Things work about a little better for Santa.

Think I'm exagerating a bit? Okay. But, several years ago, I was involved in a verbal altercation with an African-American because I used the word 'niggardly' (which is a word having nothing to do with skin color). Supposedly, that word was out of line because it sounded similar to the 'n' word. (So does "trigger", but no one cares.)

Fine. Will we be treated to Chinese-Americans requiring that we no longer refer to "chinks" in armor? Will we hispanics be permitted to require that "Spic-n-Span" change its name, or that people no longer say things like, "That room better be spic and span when I get back"?

This weekend when I'm gardening I'll try to remember that one of my gardening tools is now to be known, no doubt, as "The implement formerly known as hoe." Just in case I'm overheard using the word by the New Thought Police. Because I'm sure little regard will be given to context, or intended meaning. Utterance of the sound itself, regardless who else utters it, will be enough to convict in the court of public opinion.

Let me make something very clear. I am the son of a white woman and a hispanic man. Frankly, I have always identified with my father's ethnicity (you could ask my mother's relations if you wanted). I've heard my share of slurs and racial jokes. Why don't "mess'cans" barbecue? Because the beans keep falling through the grill! Oh. Ha, ha, ha. What do you call a "mess'can" in a tree? A branch manager. Please. Stop. My side hurts.

I was offended. But I wasn't traumatized for even a few seconds, much less for the rest of my life. I didn't even have to get over it. There was nothing to get over.

Bye the way, I wasn't treated much better by many members of the group I chose to identify with. I wasn't a true chicano.

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James Frank Solís
Former soldier (USA). Graduate-level educated. Married 26 years. Texas ex-patriate. Ruling elder in the Presbyterian Church in America.
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