This is not from the latest Paul Krugman column. It’s from William Jennings Bryan’s famous “Cross of Gold” speech (1896), which you might have come across in high school history class. “Trickle down economics” is a much older idea than you might suppose.
It’s funny how goldbuggery is still lingering at the edges of U.S. politics and how it’s still strongly associated with a belief that prosperity is mainly generated by the wealthy.
Healthy friendships make you feel good about yourself. You feel valued, listened to, you have fun with this person. You jointly support each other. If there’s a power imbalance or an age gap, or any other hurdle, you don’t constantly feel insecure about it, and that person doesn’t make you feel insecure about it.
In healthy relationships, you both put energy and feelings into the relationship. There is open communication. The friendship makes you feel rejuvenated, not exhausted. This person constantly makes you feel good, and you know where you stand with them.
Unhealthy friendships, by contrast, make you feel bad. They might make you feel insecure. You don’t know how this person really feels about you. You don’t feel like they’re telling you everything that you need to know in order to have a solid friendship with them. They might say or do things to make them seem more popular or more interesting or more worthwhile than you are. If there’s a power imbalance or an age gap, you constantly feel it. You constantly wonder if you’re not good enough for the person, and while the person might reassure you, you feel like their behaviour contradicts this.
They bring out your bad qualities like jealousy, ‘paranoia’. You lie awake in bed at night and wonder why you feel so bad and what’s wrong with you. The relationship feels one-sided, you wrack your brains to try and decide if it’s something you’re doing, something that’s wrong with you.
Unhealthy friendships drain you. You feel exhausted. You can’t remember the last time you felt like the friendship was reciprocal. Was it ever reciprocal?
Trust your gut. If the friendship doesn’t make you feel good, end it. END IT. JUST END IT.
(Huffington Post) The writer of a much-maligned New York Times article about Michael Brown admitted on Monday that he had made a mistake when he described the slain teenager as “no angel.”
Those two words that John Eligon chose, along with a series of of descriptions about Brown’s “dabbling” with drugs, alcohol and rap music, set off a scorching round of criticism for the way the paper had characterized Brown. The Times dug an even deeper hole for itself by writing a concurrent article about Darren Wilson, the man who killed Brown, in which Wilson was described as a “well-mannered, relatively soft-spoken, even bland person.” Many said that the contrast seemed to fit a pattern in which black victims of crime are maligned in the media.
Lawrence O’Donnell’s send up of this article is freaking legendary, people.
Please read this piece to get some historical context:
Shortly before the Civil War, many white writers—especially abolitionists—began anxiously debating whether black children who died could become angels, and if so, whether they needed to become white first. As I write in my book, Racial Innocence, the 1862 abolitionist story “Poor Little Violet,” by Lynde Palmer, included a very disturbing scene in which Violet, an enslaved girl, discusses death and angelhood with a white slaveholding girl named Carrie. Violet asks,“[W]hen we goes to Canaan, that old Sambo sings about, may I be your little slave then, Miss Carrie, ’cause you’s allus so kind?”
“I don’t think there will be any slaves there,” said Carrie, slowly, pondering over the matter.
“Why, what will the black people do, then?” cried Violet, with curious round eyes.
“Maybe,” replied Carrie hesitatingly, “maybe there won’t be any black people—you know, Violet, our bodies are covered up in the ground,”—Violet shivered,—“but our souls go to heaven, and they must all be white.”
“All of ’em?” asked Violet, eagerly.
“Yes, mamma told me that no soul can go till it is washed white in Jesus’ blood.”
“And can my soul be white?” whispered Violet.
“Yes,” said Carrie, “if you ask God.” (Racial Innocence: Performing American Childhood from Slavery to Civil Rights, p. 59)
The Times's reference to Michael Brown as “no angel” is so deeply hurtful because it extends a historical libel that African Americans, and African American children in particular, cannot be innocent. As the slaveholder Carrie tells Violet, to be an angel is to be white. And in this white-authored text—which was intended to critique slavery—a black girl joyously receives this information with hope that she can shed her blackness, become white, and become an angel.