Double Decaf PC With a Twist : Thoughtlessly invoked, political correctness is indeed Big Brotherism. Still, set a place for it at the democratic table.
I was faced with three simple choices. I could have my caffe latte in a paper cup and be a killer of trees and spotted owls, supporter of an industry that hacks up old-growth (but renewable) forests.
Or, I could have my joe in a Styrofoam container and be haunted by images of vast, unrelenting and nonbiodegradable (but renewable) graveyards of garbage, a legacy of trash for future generations well beyond the millennium.
Or, I might take the third, and obviously preferred option, by presenting my own well-stained coffee mug from home, thereby receiving an immediate reward, a 5-cent discount from the purchase price.
As I am neither in the habit of lugging around my own porcelain, nor able to anticipate the next time I’ll need a java injection, I preferred a fourth possibility--reusable and rewashable glassware. This, however, was not an option at this Santa Barbara cafe.
A few days ago, I told my friend Jill about this conscience-arousing array of choices. And while we both sipped tepid coffee from reused plastic mugs at a beachside cafe in Santa Monica, she explained to me about this particular world of Political Correctness (hereafter referred to as, simply, PC).
“It’s like they’re saying, ‘Look, we’ll play this. We know some of you want to save the trees, save the landfills, so we’ll give you a choice,’ ” Jill explained. “They’re saying, ‘The onus of responsibility for the Earth is on you.’ They’re saying, ‘Look, if you want to be PC, or not be PC, it’s up to you.’ ”
To be PC or not to be PC. That is the question.
What was a simple desire for a steaming mug of wake-me-up had turned into a confrontation with the environmental issues of our day. This was political correctness hard at work in the marketplace, but fair enough. I didn’t mind, but I overheard one anxious coffee drinker remark, “This PC has gone too far. Give me Styrofoam.”
In fact, I know a few people who might take such exception. Political correctness is peer pressure, they would say. Political correctness is an infringement on the First Amendment right of free speech, they’d argue. Political correctness is slavish adherence to the fashionable thought of the day.
Do you wear a red ribbon, but never donate time or money to AIDS victims or research? Do you contribute to the Nature Conservancy, but leave garbage on the hiking trail? Do you say you love animals, but forget to feed your vacationing friend’s cat for four days?
No doubt, PC can go overboard. My brother Will blanches when I use the phrase, “people of color.” Jill chuckles when she hears newscasters pronounce Latino names with that certain proper accent. I mean, which is it? Is it an uprising? A rebellion? Or a riot?
Do I use the word rebellion because I believe what happened in the aftermath of the first Rodney King trial was an expression of civil unrest or because it’s the hip, “in” thing? Have I thought about it sufficiently and decided, or am I simply reaching into the common Zeitgeist for an acceptable opinion?
Recently, I was at an outdoor Mexican food take-out joint, the kind of place where you bring your own booze. Without much ado, I started shredding the plastic rings that held the six-pack together. I do this automatically in my own home, as I can’t stomach the notion of a fox or coyote or dolphin with its snout desperately stuck in the plastic, dying because I neglected a simple task.
A hush fell over my dinner companions. They looked into their plates, waiting for me to chastise or convert them. “Care for more salsa?” I asked.
Shredding plastic rings or selecting paper over plastic are personal decisions, and I would not think of imposing mine on others. But neither are my decisions imposed by the pervading Zeitgeist.
I recycle newspapers, I never tell ethnic jokes, I pack my groceries at the supermarket in a backpack, because it’s right for me. I have thought about it, and I feel I make a difference when I do the things I can control in a world where so much is out of control. When people do or say things without thinking about them--that’s political correctness gone awry.
Two years ago, when I was in graduate school at New York University, a professor repeatedly referred to women in his lectures as “girls” and talked about them in terms of their body parts, prefaced always with the proviso, “but I love women, you know.”
I said nothing. But one notoriously confrontational student called him up on the public carpet. The professor reacted violently, defending his right to be rude. “People nowadays don’t have a sense of humor,” he railed. “This PC is out of control.”
I think he spoke for many people who feel that PC is invading our lives with Orwellian rapidity and implication, tantamount to censorship. Are not unpleasant words and ideas, and the free exchange of them, also protected under the Constitution?
Even as an example, I cannot write racial epithets without warning bells and red flags. People are sensitive to the cruel nature of dangerously loaded words and ideas. Is that censorship? Or is it citizenship?
