The Narcissism of Minor Differences
By Nicholas Allanach
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I
recently moved to Spanish Harlem (or as us locals like to call El Barrio).
The other day when leaving my apartment in Spanish Harlem (or as us locals
like to call it, El Barrio), an Old Italian Lady who was born and raised
in my building (or more correctly her building) asked me, “Are you
Italian?” My first response was the standard one I give when asked
a question regarding my ethnic origin. “I’m a little bit of
everything.” She responded with a blank stare, silence, and a puff
from her cigarette. She didn’t get it. “Well, my name derives
from English and German descent, so no, I’m not Italian.”
This obviously pleased her. “As long as you’re white!”
She cackled.
I took this as my cue to leave before saying something that could be taken
as offensive. Obviously, if this old woman had approached me on the street
and asked the same question, I would have responded differently. I blame
my ambivalence on the fact that we have to be neighbors (indefinitely,
unless she dies before my lease is up).
Her “truth” wasn’t going to change for some young punk
like me. She’d been this way for years, why should she change now?
Obviously, it would be nice to believe racism is no longer a problem in
Our Empire and that anyone who still insists on succumbing to this archaic
logic should be confronted and questioned. However, these surface-level-truths
do not speak to those deep-rooted-truths that were (and apparently still
are) a part of our collective social reality.
While walking to the train I tried to understand this woman’s perspective.
After all, it wasn’t like we were living in a secluded place; this
was New York City, where millions of people (all equally beautiful and
ugly in their own way) have had to learn to live together. However, it
is in concentrated urban environments that a “narcissism of minor
differences” often rears its ugly head. A fine example of this is
the Old Italian Lady’s racism toward the African and Spanish Americans
living in our neighborhood. There isn’t a lot separating these groups
from one another - at least not economically. Thus, in order to
compensate for the obvious similarity this woman shares with other poor
people, she chooses to idealize herself through her heritage instead of
being reduced to the reality of economic hardship: I may be as poor as
“them”, but at least I’m not “them.”
This coping mechanism is not only weak and confused but also harbors the
potential danger of being utilized politically. I don’t want to
start a war with my neighbor, but I will choose to ignore her when topics
regarding ethnicity are brought up. Perhaps, many of us “progressive
types” would be troubled by my inaction. However, I’m sure
many would do the same if presented with a similar situation. After all,
when we take a step back and look at the reasoning behind this old lady’s
“truth,” we develop a more complete understanding of a larger
problem. This woman is obviously a racist, and I am not defending her
twisted ideals.
However,
I don’t think her comments amongst her friends (who never venture
any further than the front stoop) are going to bring our society crashing
down. Nevertheless, we should try to understand why her individual truth
is constructed as it is. What social, economic, and politic relations
have solidified this skewed view in her mind?
This theory of a “narcissism of minor differences” is one
way to understand her perspective; but perhaps, there is more than just
one explanation? Let us go back in time. This lady is easily pushing eighty
and told me that she was born in this building. I don’t know the
details, but I’m willing to bet that her parents arrived here from
Italy with the influx of European refugees during the twenties and thirties.
Thus, at one time (before the urban development projects of Robert Moses)
this area was a neighborhood mostly made up of Italian refugees. Moments
from this woman’s childhood and young adulthood are full of pleasant
memories from parties and festivals that were, yes, focused on her heritage.
Eventually, these neighborhoods (and the families they housed) confronted
the monster of automobile-centered urban modernism.
Large affordable housing projects, wide highways, and avenues eventually
cut up these intimate neighborhoods to be replaced with stark super-blocks.
During this period of time, this woman begins to grow old. Her friends
and family flee to the suburbs, leaving her and a few scattered Italians
in a new neighborhood that must face an influx of Spanish immigrants and
African Americans searching for affordable housing. Not only that, but
the activity on “her” street, once alive with human beings,
is now relegated to the sidewalk by noisy automobiles and grumbling freight
trucks. These various economic, political, and technological forces are
not the only reason for this woman’s racism. These multiple forces
are also not an excuse for her attitudes. However, to understand why she
holds the truths she does, and to possibly alter them for other-less racist-truths,
these forces shouldn’t be ignored.
The next time I get into a conversation with this old woman I will make
an effort to find out more about her history, in hopes of pin-pointing
those painful moments that she now rationalizes her racism with. Perhaps
steps like these will bring us closer to logical truths and better ways
to construct this “empire” of ours.
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Nicholas Allanach is a writer living in New York City. His work appears in Canon Magazine, and he can be reached at [email protected]
© 2004 Me Three