CenSorShip

The censorship of the 'N' word from Mark Twain's The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn' -changing the word from 'nigger' to 'slave' is not only censoring a word today and for the future by reflecting current norms, but isn't it also revising history? Isn't it, no pun intended, whitewashing it? Should kids and adults who read it now, with the understanding of how heinous a word it is, shouldn't they understand that word's impact? The casual degradation the word imparted (and still imparts)? I guess I'm afraid that if people who've never read the book before see the more sanitized descriptor word 'slave' they might draw conclusions about the time and the people that are too kindly.

There are interesting takes on the censorship question here at Roof Beam Reader and here at The Guardian. There's also a very interesting post by Michael Chabon on the dilemma of reading an uncensored Huck Fin to his nine and seven year old kid. Yikes. I'm not there yet with my kids but I'm getting close. What will I do?

Buried a bit under the debate of Huck's censorship came another tale of censorship: Canada's radio watchdog is banning playing "Money for Nothing" by Dire Straits for the use of the term "faggot"

When I was a kid in the late 70's my sister and her friends would tell each other to not be so 'gay.' My sister and I would tease each other and when one of us did something corny or lame the other would say 'you are so gay' and laugh.

Kids don't know anything (or, as my immigrant mom got a kick out of saying, 'their asses from their elbows') but they are eager to try to sound grown up. Calling someone gay at that time, whatever the person meant, was completely acceptable. I went to a catholic school and I'm pretty sure my friends and I called each other gay or gaylord often (as well as 'retard' 'doofus', 'dyke' and other epithets) with never a condemenatory word from an adult in a cossack or habit.

I'm not saying it was right, I'm saying it was history. According to societal norms, that was not wrong. Societal norms are notoriously shitty. Drowning old spinsters who made medicinal teas in the middle ages, otherwise known as 'Not Suffering a Witch to Live' was also a societal norm. Doesn't make it right. Again, I say, it just makes it history.

I've always hated that stupid song, even in 1985 when I was a bit of a Sting fan and those graphics, man they were CUTTING EDGE, so I'd love to say, lucky bloody Canadian's never having to hear it again. But I can't. It's art. It's a song told from a character's perspective and this guy (I think he's the shorter moving guy made out of rhombuses) is a jack ass and a narrow minded bigot. That's who he is. It's no one's job to make art 'good' or 'safe' with a giant Magic Censorship Eraser.

That's Obscene

You may not know this for sure, but I'm not a sex pervert. So imagine my shock when I got a letter advising me that my mail had been confiscated by Royal Mail for being obscene. This was more than ten years ago when I was living in England, but I can still remember the feeling of heat rising to my face as I stood at the door to my flat. I remember I looked around and down the street to see if the postman was still there and if he were looking at me, disapproving.

What had been confiscated by Royal Mail for, in their words, violating obscenity laws was an art book. Stands to reason as I was an art student. Did it contain erotic pictures? Damn skippy. But nothing that I would ever imagine could be construed as obscene. I was confused and weirdly, I felt ashamed, though I knew, intellectually, that I had nothing to be ashamed of. The notice said that my 'obscene' property was being held in a RM warehouse somewhere in the outskirts of London (Dagenham? Deptford? I can't remember) and that if I wanted to contest the claim and attempt to retrieve my property I had only to show up, prove that I was not a sex pervert and probably have a scarlet letter sewn on to my jumper.

Censorship is the devil. It's the Royal Mail sticking it's clammy fingers all over your stuff and saying 'For Shame'. It's someone who thinks they know more than you do about God, sex and right and wrong telling you that you are smutty - literally a particle of soot, too dirty to ever completely come clean. Censorship is for your own good and for your children's own good and for all the good of all the people who don't know enough to figure out when something is clearly unwholesome.

I don't believe in censorship for adults. I know saying this sometimes leads to a discussion that devolves into a version of 'Would You Rather?" where the person who believes in censorship posits that I'd probably think it would be okay to show Faces of Death* to a toddler. I do believe in self-censorship. I know there are things I don't want to read, I shouldn't watch and that would be harmful for me to listen to. I believe in censorship for children - society needs to help me keep inappropriate things from reaching my kids and I'm cool with there being a societal norm for what's appropriate for children. It's when we're talking about censoring what an adult can have access to that I get hinky. I can't imagine anyone else in the whole world knowing the answer to that better than me.

I never did go down to wherever the heck it was to pick up my smutty art book. The book was imported all the way from San Francisco, so I felt the bitter tears of being out ££. I just couldn't bring myself to do down there and, even after all these years, that's something I am a little ashamed of.

*Full Disclosure: I have never seen Faces of Death, and don't recommend it. It seems to me a prime example of how to desensitize yourself to other people's suffering, basically Sociopath 101. When I was in high school it was considered 'cool' to have watched it and I was invited to do so lots of times. I was also invited to sleep with many boys and girls, do drugs and steal things, but never thought it was right for me. See? The self-censorship thing can work.