M. Lachi's Blog, page 3

Underrepresentation of Minority Groups in Media: A Reflection of Racism or Economics?

Upon researching this topic, I found that most articles claimed that underrepresentation and misrepresentation of minorities run rampant due to the unshakable racisms of news and entertainment media.  However, I believe that though this was certainly the case in the days of “Gone with the Wind,” there are too many other competing factors to extricate racism as the sole case in today’s society.

In practice, modern-day racism is arguably a subset of classism–privileges or hardships based on socio-economic status—classism having an all-encompassing impact on the ability for minorities to present themselves as much as (and in the way they’d) like to be portrayed in TV, film and literature. Though there is a definite positive mobility towards more prevalent and accurate depictions of alternative groups, most writers, creators and directors are of the Caucasian male persuasion, causing a fairly limited scope of experiences to draw from for creative inspiration and character development.

Why is this? Why is it that according to a 2014 UCLA study, almost 90% of directors, 92% of screenwriters and 90% of show creators for broadcast television are Caucasian?  It certainly explains the results of a recent statistical comb-through done by USC’s Journalism School, which surveyed the top 600 grossing films over a span of five years up through 2013 and found that about 74% of all speaking character roles were Caucasian.

The truth is it’s more complicated than simple racism; it’s systemic.  Most aspiring minority directors, writer, actors and creatives simply don’t make it to the point where their scripts, plays and readings could be denied, as many of their talents never make it to a bona fide arts class, let alone a pitch desk. Whether due to lack of exposure, education or economic freedom, their opportunity is lacking far before a publishing or production agency has the chance to provide a rejection based on race.  And as the inspiring African American 2015 Emmy award winner Viola David said, “The only thing that separates women of color from anyone else is opportunity.”

With stiff competition in these fields, you are expected to have a degree, a portfolio, a resume of previous works, proof of expertise and a willingness to invest in writing a full edited book, an edited screenplay or filming a well-produced spec filmed. Acquiring said clout and creating said works takes a lot of time, effort and study before you can present yourself as an economically viable venture—and it all depends on one’s level of exposure to the professional arts and one’s economic situations.

Let’s first tackle exposure. A 2009 to 2014 Directors Guild of America study found that only 13% of directors who embarked upon their first assignment in episodic television within that timeframe were minorities.  Are there a high proportion of minority students with arts degrees not finding work, or are there a significantly low number of students receiving arts degrees in the first place? According to a 2008 survey by National Endowment for the Arts, only 26% of African Americans and 28% of Hispanics age 18-24 reported receiving arts education of any kind, with 58% of Caucasians reporting having received arts education.  Many minorities never realize they may have a talent for writing and director.  Sulin Iyengar, Director of Research at the Endowment, stated that the shortage in arts education in schools is a big reason for the lack of arts exposure in minorities since schools are the most likely place for minority and underprivileged students to receive instruction in the arts.

But the most important point is that it simply makes very little economic sense to attempt a career in writing, film, or even music for a minority especially considering the current economic climate.  You’ve got to have a means to support yourself or a supportive family while creating your works.  If you or your family is more focused on becoming economically stable (building a savings, working three shifts, putting children through school), it leaves little free time to make creating a priority.  According to Local Area Unemployment Statistics (LAUS) and Current Population Surveys (CPS) the unemployment rate of African Americans in major cities in 2014 hold a range of 10.2% to 13.67 with Hispanics at 6.02% to 10.53% and Caucasians at 3.75% to 5.29%. These statistics demonstrate that economic stability is a greater issue for minorities than Caucasians and this in turn may keep minorities from exploring artistic careers.

I myself did not grow up in a very privileged situation, but was given the opportunity at an early age to understand and appreciate the importance of art, writing, music and creative expression as a mode of communication—not only allowing me the freedom to write and release music, and to write and publish novels, but the wherewithal to create an artistic business in order to support my artistic habits and help contribute to the portrayal of cultural diversity in the creative world.

The media portrays who ‘it’ thinks we are, and we react to that, believing ‘it’ is setting our standard of behavior.  However, if one would like the media to portray what he or she wants to see, he or she must be the one to pick up the pen and write the scene.  I believe it begins at the adolescent level, exposing to underprivileged students the importance of the media—arts, music, film and literature—and its portrayals on our society as a whole but also on our personal interactions, prejudices and moralizations.  If one could be exposed to how much power the wielders of media truly hold, and have an equal economic opportunity to pursue that power, I believe the tone of the conversation would change drastically.

VLOG: Some Answers!

You asked some questions. Here are some candid answers!

1. What was the most important thing you learned from your parents.

2. When was the last time you really cried?

3. What is the luckiest thing that's happened to you?

Got more questions or VLOG suggestions? Submit Here!

The Sixty-Four Word Story

You're sitting alone at a cafe when someone joins you, looks you in the eyes and says, "I'm your future self, and I have an urgent message for you!" What happens next? Please limit your answer to sixty four words.

"Pull whatever strings you can to get on the Mars expedition! They'll deny you, but make it work!"
"Who are you? What it this?" I smirk, sipping at my coffee.  She slaps away my cup with an atrophied hand. She quickly starts to fade; her very presence changing the future.
"Listen! Bear your children on Mars! All remaining here are left to..." She vanishes.

Thanks to the NY Writing Club for the assignment!

The Racist Juror

Earlier this year I received a summons for Jury Duty.  Being an over-the-top workaholic, my first response is to call the number provided on the summons and postpone my service date for six months. Lo and behold, six months later, I receive another summons like clockwork!  I was in the middle of planning my book tour, so of course, I am caught off guard by it like any normal, self-absorbed millennial.

Though many have encouraged me to start blogging, I could never really find the impetus or catalyst to propel me to embark upon the habit...until now....until Jury duty.  Not that my time of service in the NYC court system was particularly exciting, but it was certainly an experience, and I learned a lot about the system and about myself.

I rush to 111 Center Street by 8:30 the morning of my summons, and after hours in the TSA-style security lines and the DMV-style summons-checking waiting area, my service begins well after 10:30.  We, the one hundred plus prospective jurors, sit in a main hall and listen to an African man tell us what to expect over the next two days.  If you are not selected to the jury panel of a specific case in the two days, you are free to leave, your service complete. After another hour of checking my emails on the nonexistant wi-fi, I am called within the first batch of forty who will be briefed for possible selection within the first case.

The forty of us enter the courtroom, are quickly sworn in, and are introduced to the presiding judge.  The first Supreme Court trial is against a young man for selling drugs to an undercover cop in close proximity to a high school.  The judge acquaints us with the two sets of attorneys and the defendant, a young well-groomed black man who rises once introduced. He turns to his potential jurors and says something along the lines of, "Hello and good morning everyone. How's it going?" with a smile and a curt wave. This move is something I highly recommend to prospective defendants. I immediately acquit him in my mind. He asked me how my day was!  He is a young, healthy black kid who smiled at me. I think 'Do the cops not have better things to do with their very talented undercover agents?'

The judge seems to want to hurry along the process and asks us to come to the front if we'd like to be excuse from selection.  One woman stands up, is pregnant, and is excused. I can sense the african americans in the room itching to find an excuse to leave, not wanting to judge this man that could be their cousin, their brother, their son.  Several people, including black people who were very evidently not Ethiopian, claim they are Jewish and must observe the upcoming Yom Kippur. I play the blind card, claiming I would not fairly judge visual evidence -- not necessarily an untruth.  As I head back to the hall, I wonder if it's his smile and hello that propelled me to want to excuse myself from judging his case or simply the fact that he was black and 'a guy I could have a beer with.'  I then wonder if it is because I have issues with the current drug laws and their implied prejudice or if I simply want to get out of wasting time sitting in a courtroom for weeks.  I then think...if I really wanted to help him, I could have gotten on the jury and persuaded them to come to an acquittal.

At noon on day two I am called within a group of seventy for a stalker case.  The Justice, much older than the one from the previous day, appears in no hurry and is very long-winded. He spends almost an hour explaining civic duty and courtroom manner.  I do appreciate his clarification that upon being sworn in, those who do not believe in the biblical God or oaths may say "I so affirm" in stead of "I swear." I find it interesting that this older judge is the more progressive of the two.  The judge speaks so much that we break for lunch before hearing any details of the case. He mentions the claimant's name, but it doesn't stick in my mind.

During lunch I see my ex-supervisor from the Corps at a Starbucks. I try not to be pleased that she looks old, tired and 'of yesterday.'  I allow her to say an obligatory hello then scamper off. I then occupy myself with wondering why she'd stood behind me in the line for ten minutes without saying anything, her underwhelming outfit, and her dark circles.  I think about how much happier I am since having left the job to pursue music and writing and wonder if I should have expressed that to her.  The thought of music causes the though of R&B pop star Ashanti to invade my head space.  As I scurry back to the courthouse I quell a growing urge to google her.  It's not until I'm firmly ensconced back in the no-cellphone courtroom that I kick myself in the face for not googling her during lunch break.  She is the claimant.

Apparently Ahsanti is being stalked by a man named Devar Hurd.  He sent her several hundred sexually inappropriate tweets.  I initially ponder at why a female pop star would care about a man sending sexual tweets. I receive dozens of grossly inappropriate texts from men simply because they'd gotten my number from the back of my business card.  As a well-off member of a group called "Murder Inc," I precede to wonder why she doesn't have people 'handle' this. Perhaps I watch too much Breaking Bad, Ray Donavon and Scandal, but I've always assumed you don't bring a cop to a street fight.  I do remain intrigued. The judge makes it very clear that no excuses will suffice for evading selection, and try as we may, he's heard it all before. Vacations may be forfeited. The defendant, Devar Hurd, is introduced. He stands, flashes an 'I'm guilty and could care less about you' scowl then sits back down wordlessly (obviously self-represented).

In that moment I no longer wish to serve on the case.  The judge explains that the defendant has already been in and out of jail for the case at hand, and all I can think of is that he either just needs mental and psychiatric help, or a bunch of bigger black men to 'kick his ass.'  This is not your average Catcher-in-the-Rye-reading white guy. We're talking about a black man, already paranoid and delusional due to 'the system' who is obsessed with a pop singer.  He could be part of a murdering gang, a gun-slinger, an armed robber.  He should be dealt with the way the streets deal with such things.

They line us up outside to come in one by one with our excuses.  I, twentieth or so in line, watch as some of the jewish people who'd been previously excused and the pregnant woman walk in to the courtroom then back out to the hall to wait -- having been unexcused, and by the time they get to me, no one has been excused.  Knowing the blind card will not work here, I walk in and decide to be honest.  I say to the judge, "I'm visually impaired. I'm not certain as to the race of the defendant, but if he is of African decent, I do not believe I can judge fairly in this case."  The judge responds with, "Yes, he is African American, but what if I told you the claimants are also African American?"  I say, "I cannot judge fairly in case against a man of African decent."  The judge looks over at the prosecuting lawyer, and they all nod.  The judge excuses me from the case.

I, under oath and on a matter of public record, stated that I am racist.

I understand that in both cases race heavily influenced my decision to excuse myself from selection.  We are all racially biased to some extent, as heuristic classifications are a healthy defense mechanism we as humans use for survival, especially during these times of swift social evolution.  Fortunately yet unfortunately people often grant an automatic benefit of the doubt to minorities who suggest more erudite qualities. "Wow, she speaks intelligently for a black person."  I tend to choose to ride that wave as far as it will take me.

It's that notion -- apart from simply not wanting to waste time serving -- that I believe coerced many of us to opt against serving in the trial of the first case.  "Wow, he's a black man, all dressed up with a smile and a hello." Very southern, Sunday church-like.  If it were a white man, we would not care as much, as adequate demeanor is expected. Almost every African American figured out a way to be excused not wanting to be part of a group that could convict this man, yet now he will find himself judged by a very non-black jury, for selling drugs to an undercover non-black cop near a non-black school. I lay torn at my decision to excuse.  Regardless, I would not have deliberated fairly.

During the second case, my feelings become a little more black and white.  There was no nod and smile, and I have no issues with the current stalker laws.  I simply felt, as I always feel about black men: the system is so verily stacked against them in so many subtle ways that any subsequent paranoia, delusions and defensiveness should be no surprise. Our second case defendant appeared to me to be a black man who needs help. I, personally, am not for wasting the tax payers money by putting a black man in jail for tweets. He'd simply sit in his cell mentally exasperating his obsession only to come out and engage in more inappropriate tweets as he'd done after his previous jail-time.  Again, my feelings on this case would be very different if he were not African American.

That was my very wrenching brush with jury service.  Through this experience I've learned that I not only have no interest in sitting on a panel that could potentially sentence a black person to jail, prison or death, I could not sentence anyone to such a fate -- safe for someone who has directly hindered my personal pursuit of life, liberty and happiness.

The Ivory Staff

I began writing this book during off-times throughout college and completed it about a year out of college.  During that time, I'd traveled to West Africa twice, lived in Canterbury, England for five months and moved from North Carolina to Queens, New York.

The novel, a dark fairy-tale (Low Fantasy) set on a fictional North African Island, couples the rich culture and post-colonial corruption of Africa with the old familiar feudalism often ascribed to Old England.

Apart from my travels, the book was also heavily influenced by the novels I'd been reading at the time (namely Wuthering Heights and Heart of Darkness), and some of the fantasy books my Partner got me into (The Dune Series, The Dresden Files Series and more). I've ready a great many other titles during my six year editing process that trickled their collective way into influencing the novel as well, allowing for what I'd deem a rather multi-genre master-piece.

In a nutshell, the tale, consisting of kings, princes, paupers, love-triangles, death, betrayal and war, examines the hedonistic whims and bloody woes of a feudalistic developing nation wrought by class warfare.

The novel should be coming out the October by Library Tales Publishing! I'll save my "How I Got A Traditional Publisher to Notice Me" blog for later, as that in itself makes for an interesting read.

Meanwhile, enjoy the self-design book cover!

"The Ivory Staff" by M. Lachi
Published by Library Tales Publishing

Sometimes I Sit And Wonder

Sometimes I sit and wonder - if others sit and wonder.
A teaming score of thunder - I've built to tear asunder

This consciousness embodied by the bot I call my body
And the soul an endless function full of fullness and disjunction
With this heart, a motor spinning powered by the vast beginnings
And this brain an ever-student geared by fleshy CP units

And my fingers making motions, tantamount to those of oceans
And my tosies just as nosie as these ears that listen closely
While these eyes they analyze; they are men of their own right
Made of creatures who in history held adequate foresight

I exist because my ancestors felt death to be a blunder
To marvel at the accidental purpose driven splendor
What is I? a resultant spring of others six feet under
Sometimes I sit and wonder - if others sit and wonder.

With Library Tales Publishing, I a Book Deal scored!

Who are you currently reading? I tend not to read individual books, but full authors' collections, with Heinlein, Butcher, Scott Card and even Koontz (don't tell anyone) among my favorites. I've always related to whimsical authors. Growing up with Maladaptive Daydreaming (a disorder where you daydream so much it's a disorder) I have always been the type to drum-up characters and story-lines in my head. One day I wrote down one of the crazy stories...and Library Tales Publishing picked it up!

Life after Michael Brown - An analysis of the systematic fallibility of The Human Being.

Yesterday a grand jury chose not to indite the police officer who shot and killed the unarmed teenager, Michael Brown in Ferguson, Missouri.

I believe the issue is no longer simply about race, but a willfully disillusioned perception by many police officers of superiority over certain demographics.  Michael Brown, though 6'4 and 230 lbs, was characterized by peers and teachers as a good kid, killed 8 days after graduation for looking threatening at the wrong place, at the wrong time, and to the wrong person.

'I have the authority to kill an unarmed black kid who's hand are in the don't shoot position and not be penalized for my gross misjudgement of character, my lack of situational awareness, and my "shoot first think later" mentality.'

But again, this is not a race issue, this is a copy issue, this is an issue of the rest of the beings making up the Human Being having to fear the parts that make up it's nucleus.  At every microcosmic level each organism is generally made up of a nucleus and its support. For an atom, it's the atomic nucleus surrounded by electronics that behave in a certain way as directed by the nucleic makeup.  For a cell, it's the cell nucleus surrounded by mitochondria, endoplasmic reticulum etc. For a human, it is the brain, which sends out all it's commands, orchestrating to the rest of the bottom what to do, how to think, what to feel and how to act, as well as self-maintenance. For a family, it is the parents surrounded by their growing children, dog, house and life.  For the solar system, it is the sun, who with it's energies and gravitational pulls, directs the dance of solar orbit.

For the Human Being -- all humans -- we've created our government as our nucleus, to direct and protect us, keep us safe and existing healthily.  And though we created our own nucleus (like an atom creates its own nucleus), we are slowly finding that its singular purposes is being compromised by the growing fallibility of individual human will.  As we continue to reward the maladaptive behavior of our nucleus, we destroy our carefully crafted human system.  It's similar to rewarding a psychological addiction with more of the substance. The body "knows" it's wrong to continue imbibing, that it's harming the brain, the #1 part of our system we should keep at utmost integrity. If the body continues to allow the destruction of the brain, the nucleus, the body will surely fail.

Who's to blame for our failing nucleus? Is it the government? The police trainings indicating that blacks, hispanics and arabs are to be profiled? Is it us? According to the Maxwell's Demon thought experiment, we are the demon constantly allowing for beings of low-integrity to make up our nucleus.  We allow for the haphazard training.  Quite literally we are those beings of low integrity that make up our nucleus.

Though the police man who shot Michael Brown was an individual acting on his own personal judgement, the general system and environment created by us, the Human Being, helped create and influence that individual judgement through countless external facets, from our jaded view of our political leaders, to our okay-to-sweep-it-under-the-rug allowances of our police force, to our want to slip within the confines of runes made by some of the most fallible.

Sometimes when you're angry at your spouse, no matter how much they apologize, or do the right thing, or make the most sense, you find yourself still angry. It is because, you're just pettily angry and need to rise above it, and your spouse is left feeling it's his/her fault thought he/she did everything right.  This is the same re the failing state of our Human Nucleus. We continue to try our best to perfectly fall within the confines of the laws made by pettily angry lawmakers, only to find ourselves -- though an unarmed, gentle, school graduate -- dead in the streets because the lawmakers could not rise above, individually, procedurally and systematically.

This is How it Begins

Recently, and by recently I mean within the last year and a half, I've delved deeply into the questions of the human mind as it relates to the cosmic function.  One thing we can all agree on is that though many have strong faith and beliefs, no one living truly "knows" the solution tot the cosmic function. What we can say for sure, is that knowledge is a coefficient that tips the scale of power into the beholders favor. That being said, I find my quest for cosmic understanding (i.e. the understanding of why, who and what I am, why my cells and the atoms that make them up behave the way they do, what my purpose is within society, the human organism's overall role on earth, earth's role within the universe and where 'God' lies within all this), I find my quest more a quest of confidence in purpose. The closer one gets to purpose, the more confident, at-ease and all around fulfilled one becomes.  It is how I knew purpose lay within music and writing.  Both nodes of prayer (communication with my innermost being, my 'God'-given talent) invoked a feeling of transcendence beyond my normal day-to-day, a feeling of touching on something within me that was larger than myself.  The feeling of purpose.

I've found there are two deep talents within me, both stemming from my (what some may deem maladaptive) daydreamings, fantastical musings, my spastic need to create and borderline narcissisticly observe my creations, and the fact that my inner monologue is a bit of an extrovert: Writing and Musing. And though I've concentrated heavily on the music aspect of the creative fluid oozing out of my brain, I actually started out with a heavy mental investment in writing.  Neither talent can be ignored. Ask an actress who is also a playwright, or a dancer who is also a flutist. Floutist?

To conclude, I plan on reinvesting in writing; however I intend to couple this mental investment with the want to explore, embrace, communicate, acknowledge, worship, observe and co-create with all levels, microcosmic or macrocosmic, of the cosmic function.  Not necessarily a stern search for the answers to "why" but a fun author's-tango with the question.

The sun is the proton of an unfathomable atom, and we are smaller than quarks.