Navigating Pitfalls of Political Correctness

Today, you’re invited to take a little test. It’s not difficult, it won’t take long, and I’m sure you’ll find it interesting.

You’ll need a sheet of paper and a pen or pencil. While you get them, I’ll wait for you right here.

Ready?

OK, now divide the paper into four quadrants. In the upper left box, write “Armenian.” In the upper right, write “African American male.” In the lower left, “Middle Eastern.” In the lower right, “Latino immigrant.”

Now take a few minutes to write down the images and impressions triggered by the respective terms. Just anything that comes to mind. (You slackers who failed to follow instructions will just have to play along in your mind.)

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So, did you censor yourself? Did you draw any blanks? After engaging in this exercise last week with about 15 colleagues, some of us acknowledged self-censorship and some had a hard time conjuring more than a few terms. I’m sure we all caught ourselves wondering where impressions end and stereotypes begin.

This mental process, going to the mat with one’s conscience, was clearly the central purpose of the exercise. What we wrote mattered less than everything else we were thinking along the way.

We were guided along our test by a pair of hired guns in the diversity-sensitivity business. One was a black woman, the other a white guy. She did most of the talking; his function seemed more subtle, as if to reassure white guys there was no reason to feel threatened. White guys are wary these days of their own stereotype--as angry people who can’t jump, can’t dance and complain about women and minorities while deciding between a 3-iron and a 5-wood.

I exaggerate, but of course that’s what stereotypes are--exaggerations, often grotesque ones. A prime example of how stereotypes and realities clash is the San Fernando Valley itself, still perceived by many outsiders as a “lily-white” domain, a haven of shopping malls and Valley girls. Just take a drive down Reseda Boulevard--so many signs, so many languages, so many scripts.

And now discussion of “diversity” and “multiculturalism” has inspired its own kind of stereotype--the knee-jerk accusation of “political correctness.” And anything that smacks of p.c. inspires groans.

That would include these diversity sessions. These consultants are popping up in workplaces everywhere.

Because we’re in the news business, our session featured something extra--a discussion of a new guidebook for journalists. It’s called “Covering L.A.’s Majority”--L.A’s majority, you see, being composed of minority groups. Conceived after the riots of 1992, copyrighted in 1993, it was produced by the Interethnic Media Task Force of the county’s Commission on Human Relations, a group that included several of my colleagues.

To use the book’s terminology, there are sections pertaining to African Americans, American Indians, Asian Pacific Americans and Latinos. There are essays, history lessons and troublesome attempts at cataloguing do’s and don’ts. Most of it is fine, but critics will level the p.c. charge here and there--and they’ll be right. As one colleague put it, the tone would be “condescending” and “rhetorical.” Nobody likes to be lectured on how to be a better human being.

A case in point may be found in the book’s glossary of terms:

Oriental-- Only acceptable when referring to rugs. Oriental was originally used by European colonists to characterize lands and people east of Europe. It is not a geographic area. It has been used to describe the Middle East, Iran, Pakistan, India as well as other parts of Asia. Oriental has a negative and outdated ring, much like Negro in the African American community. Many Asian Pacifics object to the term because it was imposed on them by non-Asians.

Oh me, oh my. Didn’t mean to impose, and please excuse my English. Using a European language is terribly ethnocentric of me, I know. Perhaps I can redeem myself by telling the Asian owner of the “Oriental Seafood Market” in my neighborhood that he should either take down his sign or start selling carpets. Oops! Did I say he was Asian? I meant Asian Pacific.

And remind me to reprimand Vin Scully for saying you-know-what the other night in referring to Dodger hurlers Hideo Nomo and Chan Ho Park. And thank goodness I haven’t mailed that check to the United Negro College Fund; wouldn’t want to offend any African Americans.

If my own tone seems a tad too sarcastic, I should explain this is a pet peeve. My peeve doesn’t concern the fact that Oriental is out of vogue, or the reasons why. Rather, it’s the insensitive way some people demand others to be sensitive.

“Covering L.A.’s Majority,” written by committee, proves somewhat redundant. This time that’s not such a bad thing. On Page 79, the O-word is addressed in a manner that is neither condescending or confrontational--a tough target for the p.c. marksman (or markswoman):

“Avoid the word ‘Oriental.’ Just as ‘Negro’ is no longer preferred by African Americans, Oriental is no longer preferred by most Asian Pacific Americans. Most people object to the term because it was originally used by non-Asian colonists to express an unfamiliarity with Asian and Pacific Islander territories and peoples and because it is not a geographical area.”

Better, yes?

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Have you finished the exercise? Written down your impressions? Have you at least given it some thought?

The fear that we might have to share our lists probably reduced the candor. But I suspect our consciences, how we think of ourselves, mattered more than how others may think of us.

Your own list will prove more interesting than mine. I’ll just say that, of the four categories, “African American male” proved the trickiest. Sports and crime came quickly to mind, but I balked. Finally I just wrote: O.J. After that came sports, Bradley, gangs, rappers, movies, Spike Lee, Jesse Jackson.

I veered along, trying to be both honest and fair. Former Mayor Tom Bradley came to mind when I sought to balance the thought of crime. Only then did I write gangs; stereotypes, after all, don’t emerge from thin air.

Only afterward did it dawn on me that friends and colleagues did not come to mind. Labels, it seems to me, aren’t likely to inspire thoughts of people we know. They are individuals, after all, not little pieces of some giant, monolithic lump of humanity. And that, perhaps, is part of the lesson too.

So how’d you do?

Scott Harris’ column appears Tuesdays, Thursdays and Sundays.