Warning -- this is long, and it's about the OJ verdict, so delete now if you have no patience for it . . . can't say I'd blame you. Until a few hours ago, I would have, too. ============================================================ Hi, folks. Not sure why I'm doing this, except to reassure myself that there _are_ people who didn't spend the last couple of hours glued to communications devices and talking in the hallways and shaking their heads or jumping up & down . . . as some of you may know, the O.J. verdict is in. Not guilty on all counts. Anthony, even Quebec is starting to look pretty good to me at the moment . . . I have to say that for me this is one of the most embarrassing, shameful moments of American public life. And I think part of what's motivating me to write is the unfailing conviction that the rest of the world will see us & our judicial system as a bunch of clowns at the circus . . . a perception that I share, in large measure. It's not easy having a mandatory ringside seat at a circus. But I want to tell people what it was like around here for the past hour, because . . . well, if I'm honest, at least partly because I want to say, no, no, we're not _all_ like that! -- and partly because the situation is a lot more complex, perplexing, and upsetting than it seems at first. So . . . When the news came, I was in class. My students were all visibly excited and anxious to hear; at the beginning of class someone announced that she had a Walkperson and could deliver the news as soon as the envelope was opened. I started everyone inkshedding -- but about ten minutes in, spontaneous conversations about the verdict started breaking out. After the (abortive) inkshedding, the student with the radio took a poll: 11 people thought the verdict would be innocent, 10 thought it would be guilty. Almost to a person, the people who thought the verdict was guilty were white. And, almost to a person, the people who thought the verdict was innocent were minorities -- students of Arab descent. After the inkshedding, people met in groups for a while, and then were free to leave, as they had to make photocopies for the next class. All of the people who thought innocent left; the room, then, was filled with white people who were hoping for a guilty verdict. Waiting for the verdict felt like a scene from some 30's newsreel . . . everyone stood anxiously around the woman with the radio, whose face would change with every announcement that she heard. Every time her expression changed, the room fell silent. "Ito's in the courtroom now." "He's calling in the jurors." Finally the verdict came. Her mouth and eyes turned into perfect round Os. "Not guilty on all counts." The room erupted into shouts of dismay. Disconsolately, people talked for a while, then gathered up their things, and walked out. "I knew it." "He's got too much money." "I can't believe it." On the way back to my office I passed a young black [sorry if I'm politically incorrect, here] woman, who was using the pay phone. She was just receiving the news -- and literally jumping and whooping for joy. I couldn't believe it. I just couldn't even fathom what was going through her head. I came into our writing center and talked to two of the tutors, who were of the opinion that the jury just wanted to go home, they'd just gotten tired of the case. In a few minutes, that woman who'd been on the phone came in. We started talking about the trial, and I asked her, essentially, how she could _possibly_ think that OJ didn't do it. Her answers surprised me. I mean, they're the standard answers you hear -- but here was a living, breathing person who believed them. She thought, basically, that Mark Furman, the detective in the case who'd been responsible for collecting the evidence, was a racist psychotic capable of anything. She thought that perhaps Nicole Simpson had arranged to pay him money in return for whatever happened in 1989 (And I don't _know_ what happened; I really haven't been following this thing.) She thought that because the LA Police Department was, as a whole, so racist in its treatment of blacks that what _really_ happened was anybody's guess. The story of the verdict, as far as I could tell, seemed to her to be that if you're a powerful black man, you can escape the systematic, unnoticed, and unpunished injustices of the criminal justice system. I could see why that story was compelling. I might even find it so, if it weren't for the fact that _I've_ been hearing the story as one of domestic violence, which often goes unpunished. Or if it weren't for the fact that I was hearing it as a story of money and prestige enabling someone to buy his way out of anything. Those were the stories my white, liberal colleagues who were gathered, shell-shocked, in the hallways were telling. And I listened to those stories, but the black woman's words were ringing in my ears, and I had . . . how shall I say . . . a reasonable doubt about what all of this means. Then I talked to a lawyer. He'd been living in LA, and had practiced law there for several years. He underscored what the young woman had said to me: that the racism in that police department -- and in white LA -- is pervasive beyond belief to outsiders. As I listened to _him_ talking, I became aware that Johnny Cochrane, one of OJ's lawyers, was not the fool I'd thought he'd been. I thought he was forever going off on tangents (especially about Furman's racism, which didn't seem to have much to do with two dead bodies, as far as I could see.) Now I see that Johnny Cochrane's rhetorical situation didn't really involve white America at all -- it involved the twelve people on the jury, nine of whom were black. He'd understood that from the beginning, of course (why he makes so much money and I don't, along with the fact that I can't throw a football); he didn't care what the media made of him. And at that moment I clearly saw what I don't usually see -- that although we live in the same place, and although it often seems otherwise, my minority students, colleagues, neighbors and I inhabit _completely_ different worlds. What must it be like to believe that OJ's innocent? What _other_ beliefs & attitudes, ones more closely tied to my classroom and the events there, are implicit in that belief? At this moment, I can't even imagine. Well, the other thing the laywer I spoke with said was that hearing the verdict was sort of like being in an accident or finding out you have a serious disease, in that we're hearing it now, and we have reactions, but the effects will be felt for a long, long time. One effect for me this afternoon is to wonder if I'm really ever bridging any gaps in the classroom, or if, rather, what looks like understanding to me feels to my students like adopting protective coloring. I wonder what really is the point of literacy, if my students and I see the same point, if the point is even anything I can stomach. Well. I've tried your patience long enough. My students tell me that one reason people write is to get their views heard; in that spirit, I want to beg indulgence. It's easy to take the fantastic charade of a fiasco that was this trial and turn a simple moral out of it. Resist the impulse. Please. Marcy Marcy Bauman Writing Program University of Michigan-Dearborn 4901 Evergreen Rd. Dearborn, MI 48128 email: [log in to unmask]