Degrees of Entitlement

Once upon a time I saw attitudes of entitlement as being equal no matter who expressed them. I did not, for example, make a distinction between the apparent entitlement of the homeless person who approaches passersby very aggressively demanding they both interact with them and give him or her what they wanted from them and say-- the entitlement of the CEO of a fortune 500 multinational corporation who intentionally and knowingly, through his or her corporate leadership and the company's practices is doing their level best to destroy peoples lives and the planet earth solely in the name of profits and getting a seven figure bonus in the process.

Over the years I have come to see the error of my previous thinking. I have come to see there are degrees to entitlement.

Level I: There are some people who have been a member of one or more traditionally oppressed groups in the world or in a specific culture who can develop a certain kind of entitlement. This can include women, ethnic minorities, sexual minorities, members of certain disenfranchised groups of every sort, etc.

One of the clear examples of this type of entitlement I've witnessed in my life so far is the attitude of entitlement that is present in some, mostly white, though it is not an exclusively white thing-- gay men in large, über progressive, gay mecca's such as San Francisco, California.

The creation of this particular type of entitlement seems to be related to an experience of internalized guilt, shame and/or inadequacy around the issue or issues that places the person in one or more oppressed groups. This is then often combined with some real or imagined temporal or perceived permanent emancipation from the deepest, darkest forms of the oppression the specific group can experience. For example, San Francisco, a city I lived in and around for more than 10 years, has a significant number of quite wealthy gay men. I noticed that a lot of these wealthy gay men who live in and around San Francisco frequently display this type of attitude of entitlement. In this case, the wealth seems to give them a real or imagined belief that they have been emancipated from some or all of the more horrible aspects of the oppression that can often come from being a member of an oppressed sexual minority. There then appears to be this lapse into a belief that many people in the world, mostly non-gay people, are really quite literally "less than" them. In essence, these men seem to believe their wealth has bought them some strong amount of freedom from this oppression. Sometimes this seems to translate into that well known syndrome where an oppressed group gains power, overthrows the oppressive king, one of them then takes over the throne and becomes a more oppressive king than his predecessor could have ever dreamed of being.

More interestingly to me at least, is that I also observed many gay men in San Francisco who were not wealthy at all, some even being quite destitute, who displayed this exact same attitude of entitlement. For them, it seems, just being in a city that is so incredibly gay friendly, where there are so many beautiful and powerful gay people and where gay people make up such a large percentage of the population-- unleashed this entitlement demon that was inside of them.

I've seen this type of entitlement demonstrated by members of many other oppressed groups other than gay men, of course. I just saw such a strong and persistent pattern of it in and around San Francisco, specifically among gay men (curiously I rarely observed this specific dynamic in lesbian women) that it is simply one of the forms I have had a lot of personal experience with. And of course it goes without saying though I'll say it anyway--there are multitudes of gay men including gay men in major, worldwide gay meccas, who don't display this type of entitlement whatsoever.

Level II: I call this type of entitlement, "Everything new is old again." The hallmark of this level of entitlement is a person obtaining something new such as a sudden and very large sum of money, a new doting and adoring significant other, or a new fabulous and fabulously paying job, for example. This new acquisition then has the impact of making something manifest that had been in dormancy before--namely, a fierce sense of entitlement.

It seems with these people the seed of entitlement was planted in their psyche some time ago but there was nothing to really bring it to the fore until they had obtained something they believed justified this dormant entitlement thing inside of them being birthed into their reality. One of the symptoms of this type of entitlement is a form of pretentiousness that's really quite easy to observe.

Level III: I call this type of entitlement, "Everything old is new again." This type of entitlement seems to primarily be the purview of those who were born into money and have always been use to having a lot of privileges and other life perks that others may not be so naturally accustomed to. Often this type of entitlement just seems to come with the territory. This seems to be so much so that when I meet someone from generations of old money who still has it (money) and doesn't have this particular air of entitlement (and there are likely many in the world who don't) I almost always find it quite refreshing.

This level can also include people who may not have tons of generational money but may just have people in their lives who have spoiled them and/or treated them as if they did have tons of money and all the rights and privileges that can come with that.

Level IV: This final level of entitlement seems to primarily be reserved for essentially sociopaths who have also found themselves with an incredibly dangerous combination of money, power and influence. When all those criterion come together, it seems that the lust for profits and the seven figure bonuses that can come with the work they do can create personalities that can truly believe they are so entitled that no one else on the planet really matters. And the planet itself also doesn't matter. Everything and everyone is literally just a pawn for them in a giant though real and potentially catastrophic game of monopoly.

People at the first three levels of entitlement can be irritating and very annoying. I however, see them as essentially harmless. Those at this fourth level on the other hand may seem very charming, gallant and sophisticated to the untrained eye but are in reality sometimes quite lethal. These people are usually surrounded by so many people to shield them from everyone else, it is rare for the general pubic to really find out just how lethal they are while they are still alive. Bernard Madoff seems to be an exception in this regard. Many of history's more notorious dictators probably are exceptions to this as well. Most infamous dictators however, who are at this level, often find a way to flee to some sort of safety right before their true lethality is revealed to the masses. These people, at this level of entitlement are people I believe we all would do well to pray for and send great quantities of positive energy to.

My purpose for developing some degree of awareness around all of this is the same as my purpose and motivation around everything else I observe in the world I might choose to label dysfunctional. I see these forms of entitlement displayed in people to be opportunities for growth and healing and perhaps a specific call to action for me. As a healer and spiritual teacher I am always looking for opportunities to gain greater insight, to some degree, into why things are the way they are; why people are the way we are. I realize there are many things in the world and in the human experience that are mysteries and may always remain so. There are however, many things that are not mysteries and that can be transmuted. If we have some insight into the possible reasons why some of these things exist, we may be able to better transform them, if they are indeed things in need of transformation.

From my point of observation, attitudes of entitlement are some of the many things on the planet at this time that contribute to the consciousness of separation we see and experience in the world. I believe the consciousness of separation in the world is one of the things that healing energy can be directed toward. That healing can help provide the type of transformation I believe most people who are engaged in the type of work I do wish to see and to help create.

My Personal Black History in the Land of the Free. Part III

I don't believe I have ever asked a woman to tell me the most sexist thing someone has ever said to her. I've never asked any of my many Jewish friends what the most anti-Semitic comment they've ever received was. I also don't believe I have ever asked any of the gay, lesbian, bisexual or transgender people I have known over the years what slur, insult, demeaning statement or epithet that has been hurled at them rose to the dubious honor of "the worst."

Identifying such a thing may not be something most of us will find any redeeming quality in. Still, several months ago, while working on the book I am writing, which has a strong autobiographical aspect to it, I found myself musing over that very type question, namely, "What is the most racist thing anyone has ever said to me?" Fortunately (or unfortunately, I truly don't know which) I was able to identify that monumental event in less than 30 seconds.

Earlier, in another essay, several months ago, I wrote about the five times I have angrily been called a "nigger" to my face, by someone unknown to me, since I've been an adult. I believed then and still believe that is a story that needs to be written about. I'll also begin to tell that story once I resume giving public talks soon. One reason is that I believe it has several unexpected and therefore, very educational, aspects to it.

First, all five of these incidents were completely unprovoked. In other words, they did not occur as part of a series of one on one or group heated and charged debates on race in a number of drunken dorm rooms in my college years---events that are so familiar to those who have ever attended college and lived in the dorms.

No, when I say these five events were all unprovoked I mean just that. They were all completely unprovoked. In one case I was simply walking across a street, minding my own business and a bike messenger quickly passed by me and called me a nigger. More specifically I was crossing a street with the "walk" sign still glowing in its familiar white visage and in my favor when an unfamiliar bike messenger whizzed by going against the light. He yelled something like, "get out of the fucking way you fucking nigger." I had to stop for a moment to survey the environment to see if there was anyone else he could have possibly been speaking to. There wasn't. Now, that young man, in his deranged mind, may have believed I provoked him to yell that at me. Fortunately I know better.

The second interesting thing about these five times I've been called a nigger to my face as an adult is that every single one of them, yes, including the one incident I just elaborated on above--- occurred in the same city. That city? San Francisco, California. What makes that even more interesting is that since being an adult I have lived in Chicago, Kentucky, Mississippi, Louisiana, Florida and Arizona-- places I would venture to say almost anyone in America would believe I would be more likely to be called such a name in before the iconoclastically progressive city of San Francisco. But, whoops, there it is.

And finally, four of the five people in my adult life who chose to add to my adult life experience in such a way were white, openly gay men. I don't know the sexual identity of that bike messenger. The other four instances where I have angrily been called a nigger to my face and in an unprovoked way in San Francisco, California all took place in venues and situations where it was obvious or known that the perpetrators were fine, upstanding, white gay men.

But wait, we haven't even gotten to the punch line yet. None of those events, disturbing as they were, can claim the title of being the most racist thing that has ever been said to me. For that we do indeed need to go way back to my college seminary days. But not to drunken dorm rooms hosting vitriolic, philosophical race debates. Instead we have to look to a group of priests at that institution.

In the junior year in the seminary college, every student had to decide at the end of the year if he wanted to go on to formal study, as a priest or brother candidate, for the religious order that ran the seminary. If one chose to do this, his entire senior year would be a pre-novitiate year. What this means is that one's senior year would be spent preparing to go to novitiate directly following graduation from the college seminary. Novitiate is a stage in the training of young men and women whose ultimate goal is to become a Catholic priest, brother or nun. At that point in my life I was certain I wanted to become a priest in this order, so I entered the pre-novitiate year with zeal and excitement.

The pre-novitiate year consisted of an entire years worth of evaluations to determine if the young man was truly ready for such an important step--novitiate. There was mandatory psychological testing and therapy. There was mandatory spiritual direction focused on preparation for taking vows. There was mandatory evaluation from all the other young men who had decided to go on to novitiate. And there were evaluations from a large cross section of priests and brothers from the religious order itself. At the end of the year the candidate would be given a typed dossier that contained a years worth of summaries of all of that evaluation and process and there would also be a final recommendation stating whether or not the candidate had been approved to continue forward to further study as a novice which itself was a preparation for becoming a vowed person attached to the specific religious order and to formal religious life as a whole. It was all very much like what I imagine an application to a top tier medical school would be like. It was very rigorous. It was all very serious. It was very intense.

With much anticipation, the day arrived when I got my dossier. I remember it as if it were yesterday. The dossier arrived is a large sealed envelope and inside that was a blue manila folder. Inside the blue manila folder were the summaries of all the various tests and evaluations that I had undergone for an entire year. I imagine I was not the only one to go straight to the end to see what the final recommendation was. This truly was akin to being accepted to Harvard Medical School or not. And so I flipped nervously to the very end of the voluminous documents to read the final recommendation. What I read there is the most racist thing that has ever been directed at me in my entire life, either before or since.

The recommendation was made by a group of three priests at the seminary--all white--who were on a panel that collated all the information and came up with a final recommendation based, presumably, on what they believed was a thorough analysis of all the information that had been collected throughout the year. Given this, I don't know precisely who came up with the final recommendation. I do know it was not my spiritual director. I do know it was not my therapist, who was also a priest of the order. I do know it was not my peers. It was likely two of the three priests on that final panel.

The recommendation from the three member, all white panel of priests was that I was indeed suited to go on to study for the priesthood but that I needed to take a year off to go work at a predominantly black church somewhere in order to get more in touch with my "blackness."

I just literally laughed out loud just now when I wrote that above paragraph. I'm still laughing. I can assure you, the time I first read it however, there was absolutely no laughing happening whatsoever. At that time I was stunned, just stunned. I truly have no other words to describe how I felt at the time. Devastated may...may come close...

Many years ago when I was a young child, I would place a white t-shirt on my head and prance around the house pretending to be a white girl with long blond hair. None of the priests at the seminary were ever told about this. Besides, I'm pretty sure that particular childhood burlesque had far more to do with wanting to be a girl than wanting to be white. So it was a complete mystery to me exactly what information they used to come to the conclusion that I was not comfortable enough with my own blackness to go on to novitiate. I still don't know. Additionally, just how does a 50-something year old white priest who has largely been separated from the world at large, all his adult life, come to know or realize such a thing about another person? I truly and I do mean truly shudder to imagine what they were thinking. I really don't want to know either. I never found out from anyone directly involved in the whole mess and that is completely fine with me.

Some time after reading that recommendation, I pulled myself together enough to complain to the main superior of the order in America--a benevolent man who was also the superior to all the priests who had signed off on that unbelievable recommendation. He also just happened to be a black man/priest. That recommendation was then very quietly and swiftly revoked and I went on to novitiate with all my classmates minus the need to become more "black" first. The damage however, had already been done. I am impressed however, to see that I can get such a hearty and genuine laugh out it all now, all these many years later. But is the laughter masking something far more disturbing and unresolved?

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My Personal Black History in the Land of the Free. Part II

I grew up in Lexington, Kentucky. I lived in the same house from just after my birth until I left home at age 18 to enter the seminary to study for the Roman Catholic priesthood. The house was in a predominantly black, middle class neighborhood. I believe it was one of the first predominantly black middle class neighborhoods in the city. It was built in the 1950's when blacks, as a group, in Lexington, first really dared I believe, to indulge the thought that they could achieve something approaching equality with whites.

When I grew up the neighborhood was a very nice one. Kids from other, nearby, less middle class neighborhoods would tease those of us who lived in "The Village" (the nickname for our neighborhood which was formally named Saint Martin's Village, named after the Roman Catholic Saint--Saint Martin dePorres--a citizen of Lima, Peru who was the illegitimate son of a Spanish nobleman and a black former slave.) I lived on the main street of the subdivision; dePorres Avenue. The kids who teased us called us "the rich kids." (O Lord if that only had ever even had a whiff of truth to it I would have been ever so grateful.) Today, it is one of those neighborhoods where pizza and Chinese delivery places refuse to deliver to for fear, I am imagining, that the delivery person might be robbed. My mother still lives in the neighborhood albeit in a different house and on a different street from the ones I grew up in and on.

When I was in high school, two separate events occurred separated by perhaps a year-- though I believe it was less-- that directly involved four black men from the neighborhood--two sets of fathers and sons. Both events had a lasting impact on me. It was years however, before I realized just how tremendous that impact would be.

In the first event a young man who lived in the neighborhood who was a year ahead of me in school got into a violent confrontation with his biological father one evening. Somehow a gun was pulled and the son was shot. He died at the scene. Even today I can remember the shock people at our high school and in the neighborhood were in. It was very surreal. In those days, our neighborhood was exceedingly quiet and safe. Donnie had also been a varsity football player. The father never served any time in jail. The death was ultimately ruled an accidental homicide. My family knew Donnie's father quite well. Over the years my family would report back to me on how this man was doing after the death of his son. Their reports were that he was never ever the same person after this event; that he was less than a shadow of the man he once was. In essence, two black men had died that night.

The second event involved another young man from the neighborhood who was also a year ahead of me in school, except I knew Kevin much better than I had known Donnie. Kevin had been a friend when we were growing up--until it became uncool for him to be hanging out with someone who was a high school freshmen to his sophomore reality. And again, his family and my family were close. In this event Kevin had been driving home one night and had been stopped by a white police officer for some reason that was either never made entirely clear at the time or that has escaped my memory after all these years. What ensued however is something I clearly remember. There was some sort of strange confrontation between Kevin and the police officer that had resulted in Kevin receiving multiple bruises and a few minor injuries. The police officer sustained no bruises and no injuries. Kevin had been "roughed up" by the police officer for apparently no reason. Reports in the community very quickly had it that this had been a case of Kevin simply "driving while black" way before that phrase became part of the cultural landscape here in America. It is my first memory of being aware of a potential hate crime perpetrated on a contemporary and peer of mine. It would not be the last. This story also had a particular twist that was so over-the-top at the time it would have normally only been thinkable in our community, as a plot twist in a daytime soap opera of the day. But here it was in full unadulterated truth right before the entire city, our neighborhood and our multi-ethnic high school to look at. That twist--Kevin's father, at the time of this incident, was serving as Lexington's first black police commissioner. I can't make this kind of shit up even if I wanted to. I don't have that much skill as a non-fiction writer. Some heads did roll in the Lexington Police Department after this incident. But like Donnie's father a short time before him, Kevin's father was also forever changed after this event involving his son.

Breathe In, Breathe Out.

After these two events shattered a certain innocence that had existed in my life until they occurred, I went about my little life as if two thunderously momentous events had not seriously altered the course of that life--like that 19th century series of New Madrid earthquakes and tremors had altered the flow of The Mississippi River. I had read in books and had talks with my grandfather about the historically and highly treacherous plight of the black man in America. I had even been called a nigger to my own face a time or two by that time. But reading about two 8.0 magnitude earthquakes and living through them are...well...two very different things.

Photo Credit: This is me (Coyote, which is my biker name to this day) on my 2000 Harley Road Glide when I was the President of an Oakland, California based Motorcycle Club (MC). Circa 2005

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Re-post of some of my favorite blog posts from 2010. "My Song of Freedom." First posted on 9.30.10

 I

One day my heart and eyes just opened up and I woke up and realized a few things. I realized I am a 50 y.o. Black gay man in America. I realized a generation of my gay male brothers succumbed to AIDS in the 80's and 90's. I realized a generation of my Black brothers were incarcerated in the 80's and 90's. I realized I am very wise and very intelligent and... very lucky and that many people cannot deal with that. And I realized, I don't care anymore. Hallelujah!

II

One, just one way I can look at my life is through this lens: A good deal of my adult life has been comprised of people, mostly men but not exclusively so, having significant issues with "things about me," letting me know it and then trying to run a big ole trip on me because of it. And for a long time it worked.

III

Some Black, straight people have tried to run a trip on me about being gay and smart. Both of those are somehow seen as "trying to be White." Oh Lord have Mercy don't let me go there. Some White straight people have tried to run a trip on me for being Black and smart. Many Asian Americans have just tripped and didn't know what to think about me. But since I was smart I got some respect. But most of them still wouldn't want me to date their son or daughter, sister or brother. Some White gay people have tried to run a trip on me for being black and smart and for not believing my gay identity is the most amazing and wonderful thing about me. Christians have tried to run a trip on me for not being "one of them" and for being gay. Alternative spirituality people have tried to run a trip on me for being Black and smart and wise and learned and confident and happy and not needing their guru nor teacher nor their teachings to reach the awarenesses I have reached.

IV

A different neo-Advaita person or student of Ramana Maharshi defriends me on facebook almost every week for God only knows what reason(s) because they never say why. At some point I had to just look at all of that; laugh, cry, then laugh some more and then cry some more and finally just realize-- you know what, this isn't really about me. This is their stuff. And you know what else, I'm not going to carry it anymore. I have enough of my own stuff to carry.

And for those moments I liberate myself from all the knowledge of everyone being one and everything being good and nothing existing and nothing being real and I simply celebrate my Black, Gay, Smart, Wise, Lucky Self. That's right-- mySelf, Myself, I, I, I, I... I love me, just the way I AM... Me , MySelf and I, baby. Now, you go deal with that! (big gay black, finger snap in a circle!)

V

This is my Song of Freedom... And I have realized that too many people have died so that I may be free. And Free I am. And Free I shall remain... Now, I'm not talking about no political freedom nor freedom from social constraints nor freedom from an enslavement created in and enforced by the minds of men. I'm talkin' 'bout freedom with a Capital "F" y'all. That's what I'm talkin' about. And when I got me a taste of that Freedom. Well, whew, there may be valleys and there may be peaks; there may be good days and there may be not so good days. But this is not a Freedom that can ever be threatened by the pull of the moon nor the threat of war or not even by death. This is a Freedom that can only be known about from the inside out. And once it is known, there ain't really no talkin' to be done anymore. This Freedom is beyond all that; its beyond words and concepts.

But you know what? I'm gonna talk about it whenever I can, because I can. And when a whole bunch of us are talkin' about it, then a song will be raised to the heavens. And like Bob Marley says, who I share a birthday with...Hallelujah...when that happens--- it will be a Redemption Song. It will truly be a song of Freedom...

VI

Yes, the guards were all imagined, the prison gates are no longer locked and all our attorney fees have been paid in full. Come join me in Rumi's field that is beyond right and wrong and where we will look into each others eyes forever and know that there is nothing more beautiful than either the other who is looking back nor the reflection we see, nor the field itself...

Won't you help to sing... this songs of freedom... 'cause all I ever have: Redemption songs... Redemption songs.

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My Song of Freedom

One day my heart and eyes just opened up and I woke up and realized a few things. I realized I am a 50 y.o. Black gay man in America. I realized a generation of my gay male brothers succumbed to AIDS in the 80's and 90's. I realized a generation of my Black brothers were incarcerated in the 80's and 90's. I realized I am very wise and very intelligent and... very lucky and that many people cannot deal with that. And I realized, I don't care anymore.

One, just one way I can look at my life is through this lens: A good deal of my adult life has been comprised of people, mostly men but not exclusively so, having significant issues with "things about me," letting me know it and then trying to run a big ole trip on me because of it. And for a long time it worked.

Some Black, straight people have tried to run a trip on me about being gay and smart. Both of those are somehow seen as "trying to be White." Oh Lord have Mercy don't let me go there. Some White straight people have tried to run a trip on me for being Black and smart. Many Asian Americans have just tripped and didn't know what to think about me. But since I was smart I got some respect. But most of them still wouldn't want me to date their son or daughter, sister or brother. Some White gay people have tried to run a trip on me for being black and smart and for not believing my gay identity is the most amazing and wonderful thing about me. Christians have tried to run a trip on me for not being "one of them" and for being gay. Alternative spirituality people have tried to run a trip on me for being Black and smart and wise and learned and confident and happy and not needing their guru nor teacher nor their teaching to reach the awarenesses I have reached.

A different neo-Advaita person or student of Ramana Maharshi defriends me on facebook almost every week for God only knows what reason(s) because they never say why. At some point I had to just look at all of that; laugh, cry, then laugh some more and then cry some more and finally just realize-- you know what, this isn't really about me. This is their stuff. And you know what else, I'm not going to carry it anymore. I have enough of my own stuff to carry.

And for those moments I liberate myself from all the knowledge of everyone being one and everything being good and nothing existing and nothing being real and I simply celebrate my Black, Gay, Smart, Wise, Lucky Self. That's right-- Self, Myself, I, I, I, I... I love me, just the way I AM... Me , MySelf and I, baby. Now, you go deal with that! (big gay black, finger snap in a circle!)

This is my Song of Freedom... And I have realized that too many people have died so that I may be free. And Free I am. And Free I shall remain... Now, I'm not talking about no political freedom nor freedom from social constraints nor freedom from an enslavement created in and enforced by the minds of men. I'm talkin' 'bout freedom with a Capital "F" y'all. That's what I'm talkin' about. And when I got me a taste of that Freedom. Well, whew, there may be valleys and peaks; there may be good days and not so good days. But this is not a Freedom that can ever be threatened by the pull of the moon nor the threat of war or not even by death. This is a Freedom that can only be known about from the inside out. And once it is known, there ain't really no talkin' to be done anymore. This Freedom is beyond all that; its beyond words and concepts.

But you know what? I'm gonna talk about it whenever I can, because I can. And when a whole bunch of us are talkin' about it, then a song will be raised to the heavens. And like Bob Marley says, whom I share a birthday with...Hallelujah...when that happens--- it will be a Redemption Song. It will truly be a song of Freedom...

Yes, the guards were all imagined, the prison gates are no longer locked and all our attorney fees have been paid in full. Come join me in Rumi's field that is beyond right and wrong and where we will look into each others eyes forever and know that there is nothing more beautiful than either the other who is looking nor the reflection we see, nor the field itself...

© Raven/Sage Mahosadha

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Today's Wisdom From Caroline Myss

"There is a mythology that would suggest that love is the greatest power of the human experience. That is a myth. We don't understand love. But if we went through it through self esteem, that would reposition it entirely. Self esteem is the ability to have enough internal stamina so that your sense of who you are is not measured, based on or dependent upon the approval of the outside world. You will compromise your integrity if you need someone else's approval in order to function in your body and your spirit. Self esteem is your ability to have enough---and the words are---regard, respect---for yourself to not compromise what you can perceive, how you can live in this life in exchange for someone else's approval, physical safety and love to be perfectly honest with you. This is why self esteem rates just a little bit higher than love." Caroline Myss From a talk entitled: Healthy Self Esteem and the Art of Healing.

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