Sister Stories, 2006 Holiday Edition
Another story in the continuing series about my sister being a space alien. Not quite as succinctly laugh-out-loud funny as previous stories, but still quite informative. Plus I just have to share the pain that I’ve been experiencing here.
At dinner, she was discussing a drug case she had recently worked on in her capacity as a clerk in the New York State Appeals system. I first inwardly chortled when she referred to the way that undercover detectives “put on a disheveled appearance” to go and buy drugs.
But then she talked about her surprise at the use of 13-14 year olds by drug dealers (i.e., how to minimize chance of prison/years served to their organizations), and said with amazement, “So when these young men want something, like a new pair of sneakers, they don’t go out and get a paper route or anything like that: they go and sell drugs.” My reaction: “Um, duh?” (Well, actually, my first reaction was snickering at her likely mental image of an inner city youth trading in a do-rag for a snap-brim cap a la 1920’s New York—“Extra, extra, read all about it...”). I pointed out to her that what these kids see as the pinnacles of success in their communities—the role models, the alpha males, the holders of status and resources (and occasionally community benefactors)—are often drug dealers, so it’s hardly any surprise that they are the models they want to emulate. I chastised her, wondering how she could think otherwise—doesn’t she have any clue what these neighborhoods are like? Either via brief contact going through less gentrified parts of town (Um, you live in New York City—have you ever been through Bed-Stuy?), or through the media, be it the newspaper, or (less likely) television or radio? She defensively and huffily responded, “Well, I live in a nice neighborhood, thank goodness, so I have no idea what those neighborhoods are like, nor do I have to.”
This was an example of why I was horrified when a few years ago, she was looking to get an appointment as a judge. I have no question whatsoever about her legal acumen and work ethic. But the idea of her making legal decisions about Real People, while having no clue about them or the world that they live in, was truly frightening. I’m hoping that it won’t happen anytime soon.
posted by Bats @ 2:35 PM
3 comments
3 Comments:
I think a DVD copy of The Wire might be an appropriate gift for her. I'm working my way through the fourth season right now, and it's just unbelievably well-done, but depressing because of the seeming hopelessness of the situation.
For all that I found it a disappointing book, Freakonomics does have an interesting chapter about the economics of inner cities, and particularly about why folks wind up involved in the drug trade. There's a book, too, about that research; it came out in the past month or three. That might be a good accompaniment to the DVD.
She totally needs to watch The Wire. But there's no way that she actually would.
Yeah, I've seen that Freakonomics excerpt--it's actually available on the web (I wanted to look it up after my conversation with my sister):
http://www.freakonomics.com/ch3.php
Chapter 3: Why Do Drug Dealers Still Live with Their Moms?
... a crack gang works pretty much like the standard capitalist enterprise: you have to be near the top of the pyramid to make a big wage. Notwithstanding the leadership's rhetoric about the family nature of the business, the gang's wages are about as skewed as wages in corporate America. A foot soldier had plenty in common with a McDonald's burger flipper or a Wal-Mart shelf stocker. In fact, most of J. T.'s foot soldiers also held minimum-wage jobs in the legitimate sector to supplement their skimpy illicit earnings.
Post a Comment
<< Home