upworthy
Add Upworthy to your Google News feed.
Google News Button
Race & Ethnicity

Reflections from a token black friend

"In the past, I've usually stayed quiet on these issues. Often, the pain of diving deep into them was too much to regularly confront."

Reflections from a token black friend

I am regularly the only black kid in the photo. I have mastered the well-timed black joke, fit to induce a guilty "you thought it but couldn't say it" laugh from my white peers. I know all the words to "Mr. Brightside" by the Killers.

I am a token black friend. The black one in the group of white people. This title is not at all a comment on the depth of my relationships; I certainly am blessed to have the friends that I do. But by all definitions of the term, I am in many ways its poster child. And given the many conversations occurring right now around systemic racism, it would feel wrong not to use my position as a respected friend within a multitude of different white communities to contribute to the current dialogue. I believe my story speaks directly to the covert nature of the new breed of racism — its structural side, along with implicit bias — and may prove helpful to many I know who seek a better understanding.


. . .

Growing up, I lived in the inner city of Boston, in Roxbury. I attended school in the suburbs through a program called METCO — the longest continuously running voluntary school desegregation program in the country, which began in the late 1960s. My two siblings and I attended school in Weston, Massachusetts, one of the nation's wealthiest towns. The place quickly became our second home, and alongside Boston, I would count it equally as the place I was raised. All three of us did very well by all standards. We had all been co-presidents of the school, my brother and I were both football captains, and all three of us went on to top-end universities.

For those wondering about the structural side of systemic racism, I'd ask you to consider a few questions. First: Why does METCO still exist? Segregation ended more than 60 years ago, yet there is a still a fully functioning integration program in our state. We haven't come very far at all. Many of our schools remain nearly as segregated as they were in the 1960s.

Second: What is the point? Weston improves its diversity. Without us, most of Weston's students would go through all those years seeing possibly three or four local black faces in their schools (and that's the reality for many white people in this country). As for the Boston students, most of whom are black, they receive a much higher-quality education. Property taxes, a structural form of racism meant to allow segregation to endure, have ensured that while schools have grown increasingly better in our suburbs, the inner-city schools continue to struggle with resources, attendance, and graduation rates.

Lastly: Why was I able to be so successful? A major criticism of the METCO program is that it doesn't produce better outcomes for its students than the city schools, so it just acts as a brain drain from the city. I am an exception. I held leadership roles in the school, was an accomplished athlete and student, and went on to what was, at the time, the best public university in the country. What's easily overlooked, though, is how my circumstances differed from the average student of color coming from the city. I came from a two-parent household. My mother was able to work from home our entire life, so she could take us places when we needed. Compared to other black families, we were relatively well-off financially, which afforded me a car in high school and thus allowed me to be highly involved. I had a stable church and home life and food security. This combination is uncommon for a young black kid in America.

In a piece my brother wrote reflecting on the current situation, he considered whether black privilege was real. He and I have both considered how our differences from the common story of black people made us "privileged." For instance, our immersion in the white community, our success in school and now in the workforce, and the fact that we grew up in a middle-class black household (highly uncommon in Boston) led us to believe we had somehow transcended the plight of the black man. Yet, what scared us both so much as we watched the videos of Ahmaud Arbery and George Floyd is that we clearly had not. In both cases, it could have been us. There is no escape. There is no level of success that will spare you. We are black men, and that is all that matters to some.

. . .

In the past, I've usually stayed quiet on these issues. Often, the pain of diving deep into them was too much to regularly confront. College changed many of my attitudes, but none more so than my full acceptance that racism is alive and well around me.

In college, I sought out more black friends, choosing to room with three people of color because I wanted to grow more connected to that side of my identity. The room afforded me a space to appreciate aspects of black culture and share stories of anger with people who looked like me. Many of my clearest interactions with racism occurred in college. It was there that I began to confront knowledge that roused more frustration within me, such as the war on drugs and its history as a weapon against black communities — although on every college visit, I watched people ingest more drugs and smoke with more impunity than I ever saw in the hood.

The length of my journey makes me inclined to be more patient with others in this process, as it's taken me this much time to wake up. We should all be reasonably patient with one another, but I would encourage individuals to not be patient with themselves and to treat these issues with the urgency they deserve. The anger on display over the past week should exhibit the need for change.

. . .

So many of my experiences growing up speak to implicit biases against black people. I think of how quickly others in school assumed I had a single mother, simply because my father, much like many of theirs, didn't visit school often. Or the number of times I've heard "you are so articulate" in a conversation where all I've shared is my name and other small personal details. Standing alone, each instance may seem insignificant or merely a compliment to my upbringing and education. However, the frequency with which I've received that comment tells otherwise. It reveals how a black kid speaking properly is surprising, and further, how it makes me appear worthy of sharing the person's company.

I also realized that the token black friend is not spared the realities facing a black kid from the hood. One morning, while getting ready for school, I heard my mother scream outside, followed by my brother sprinting down our stairs. In our 150-year-old home, every quick step down the stairs resembled a drumbeat. I followed my brother to find my mom standing at her car, visibly shaken, telling us, "He's running up the street. He took my phone." My brother and I, both barefoot, sprinted up our street and two others until we caught the culprit. I jumped on his back to stop him until my brother caught up, at which point Raj chewed him out and we took our stuff back — both too young and inexperienced in the ways of the streets to know we probably should have beat him up. The point is, though, we still had to go to school that day. And I remember being too embarrassed to tell any of my friends about what occurred that morning, thinking it would change for the worse the way they thought about me or where I came from every day.

I started carrying a knife during my junior year of high school. It quickly became a running joke among my core group of friends — whenever someone would say something out of pocket or stupid, we'd say, "Get the knife," and I'd comedically lay it on the table. What those friends definitely didn't know is that I carried the knife because I was afraid I might get jumped making my daily walk from the train station to my house late most evenings. How could my white friends from suburbia ever understand that?

. . .

In the wake of the past week's events, I've reflected on my interactions with the police. These interactions lifted the veil of black privilege I thought existed, though it was likely only afforded to me because of my military affiliation.

I was once pulled over in a cemetery, less than one minute after getting back into my car after visiting a friend's grave, only to be asked, "What are you doing here?" The cop had been parked right by me the entire time, so he obviously just seen me out at a gravestone alone.

"Visiting my friend's grave before heading back to school tomorrow, sir," I said.

The officer's aggressive demeanor changed only after I told him I went to the Naval Academy, at which point we entered a friendly conversation about his days at Norwich. What stuck with me is what he could've done in those cemetery back roads without another living person in sight — no witnesses, no cameras.

Another time, when I'd walked back to my best friend's empty house after a party, I accidentally set off the alarm, bringing the cops buzzing to his door. I wonder if the only reason it went so smoothly is because I quickly identified myself as a member of the military, opening their ears to hear the full story of what was happening. I think of what might've happened if they'd mistaken me, holding my military ID in my hand as I walked out the door, for something else.

It's tough to realize how rarely these possibilities occurred to me when I was younger. When I was pulled over numerous times, often without cause, driving to a hockey game in Weston or parked talking to my white girlfriend, I didn't consider that the cops might have had it against me. When I did witness these biases, I quickly brushed them off as insignificant.

Early in middle school, I arrived to our high school's football game with a group of friends, all white, to find three or four policemen standing by the entrance. I greeted them with a "Good evening, officers," and then quietly said to my friends, "You gotta befriend them so they are on your side later." My buddies thought it was hilarious, and I had succeeded in making the boys laugh. Looking back, I realize they didn't understand that I was speaking to something legitimate. I was no older than 12 or 13, and I already understood that the police would not be inclined to help me. It was only funny to my friends because they'd never had those sorts of conversations.

I think back to when my friends never understood why I wasn't allowed to play with water guns — or any toy guns, for that matter — when I was a boy. I'd be so excited to visit a friend's house and use their airsoft gun in the backyard. I used to get so frustrated when my mom told us it was "too dangerous" for black boys to do that and that someone would mistake it for a real gun. When I was 16, 12-year-old Tamir Rice was shot and killed while playing with a replica toy airsoft gun. I realized my mom was right.

I think of the way the black girls were treated as second rate in high school. Guys rarely tried to talk to them romantically, and if they did, others discussed it with an undertone of comedy. I never felt this way, personally, but didn't realize until college that my silence was compliance. I was participating in denying dignity to the black women around me.

This attitude from my white friends didn't end in high school, either. This past year, I was at a bar in Narragansett, Rhode Island, where I'd quickly befriended one of the guys my friend had brought with him. At one point, I expressed my interest in a girl who had just entered the bar. He asked me to point her out, so I did, also noting that she was black. He responded, "Yeah bro, she's cute, but you could have one of the white girls here!" I questioned his statement, and he realized it didn't fly with me. We eventually moved on and continued the night, but I couldn't get it out of my head. He truly didn't think anything of it when he said it. And he assumed that I would agree with him. To him, the preference for white women was undisputed, so he suggested it unapologetically. It was especially hard for me because, outside of that statement, there was nothing to suggest he was racist. He had treated me with nothing but love and admiration and accepted me into his crew. It was simply ignorance, which had probably been reinforced countless times. That was difficult to wrestle with.

. . .

These attitudes directly contribute to and maintain systemic racism within our society. Our disparate relationships with the police, along with messages sent to the black males when they "speak properly," or to black girls about their inferiority (spoken or unspoken), paint an inaccurate picture of what a black person is supposed to be. These attitudes foster the ignorance and apathy that is so rightly being called out right now. They ensure the survival of this corrupt system.

I think of times when my own ignorance let me buy into the insensitivity shown toward the black struggle, often to induce laughs. During a visit to a Louisiana plantation during my sophomore year of high school, I shamefully recall posing for a picture with a noose around my neck. I remember walking around downtown New Orleans later that evening with it around my friend's neck, me jokingly walking him like a dog. Two black guys on the street, a bit older than us, said to me, "That's not fucking funny, bro." I immediately filled with guilt upon recognizing my stupidity, and I struggle even today to understand what made me think either were permissible at the time. Sharing that story relieves some of the guilt, yes, but it also speaks to how being wrapped up in white teen culture led me to buy into, and even spearhead, the insensitivity that is often exhibited toward issues of black struggle that are incorrectly categorized as "in the past."

If you don't agree, why did none of my white friends call me out for it? Yes, we were young at the time, but I'd ask: Why didn't we know any better? We assumed the pain of that type of racism was dead, but we all just witnessed a modern-day lynching on camera.

Then there are the instances most white people will recognize, though they probably never knew how damaging their words were. Every token black friend can recall the times when a white friend chooses to dub you "the whitest black kid I know." It's based on the way I speak or dress or the things I'm into, and it's a comment on me not fitting the image they have of a black person. When I resist accepting such a title, the white person claims it's a compliment — as if the inherent superiority of whiteness should leave me honored to be counted among their ranks.

More impactfully, it suggests that my blackness is something that can be taken from me. That my identity as a black man fades because I am into John Mayer or I've visited the Hamptons. And further, it assumes that my black identity is not something I am proud of. It ignores the fact that the acculturation and assimilation I experienced growing up with all white friends was not voluntary. It suggests that my blackness is a burden, when in fact, minimizing my blackness was most often my burden. Another example: when I am criticized by my white friends for code-switching when I am with my black friends, just because they don't understand the slang and how it connects black people to a common culture.

The biases are evident; you just need to pay attention. Believe me, because I wasn't spared from buying into them myself. It wasn't until I got to college that I began to realize how much subconscious effort I'd put into being as unstereotypically black as possible. Whether in my choices concerning the way I dress, speak, or even dance, I noticed that, without realizing it, I'd habitually quelled aspects of my black identity. And based on that ability, I consistently inflated my self-worth and considered myself superior to my fellow black brothers. I had unknowingly bought into the very biases set out against me.

. . .

I'd emphasize that most white people do not understand their level of ignorance — especially the good ones, who mean well, and that negligence is part of the problem.

Many of the white people I know have no concept of the role they've played, passively or actively, in perpetuating these conditions. They have no idea how much we long to hear them speak up for us and to embrace some of the discomfort around these issues with us. Furthermore, the good ones are oblivious to the level of overt racism still out there. I have been among my white friends each time I've been called "nigger" by a stranger. And every time, my white friends seemed shocked. They had been misled to believe that kind of overt racism only happened in the past (or in To Kill a Mockingbird). Comfortingly, they always verbally leaped to my defense, and the savior complex within them encouraged them to seek retribution.

In one vivid case, at a bar in Cape Cod, after I'd just finished a conversation with a friend, one guy, not realizing I was still in earshot or aware of my relationship with this friend, came over to him and asked, "You really talking to that nigger?" My friend was stunned but immediately came back at the guy, his anger for me visible. He then came to me, boasting that he has black friends as if that should warrant him a pass.

As much as each situation ruined my night, everything after went well, and I was embraced by a group of allies who wanted to fight for me when they heard that word. I had no further reason to be upset. Yet, probably only the friend who walked ahead of the group with me knows I cried my eyes out the entire walk home, unable to explain how that word garnered so much control over me.

The problematic result of these overtly racist situations is that good white people feel liberated from any responsibility concerning the privilege, structural racism, and implicit biases that do not make them racist themselves, but that they do benefit from. This moment is one of the first times I have felt it was not only okay but encouraged to share these things.

If there is one thing every token black friend knows, it is that we are not to provoke serious discussions of racial issues among our white crowd. We should only offer an opinion on such matters when invited to do so by our white peers. Further, we should ensure that the opinion is in line enough with the shared opinion of our white friends, as to not make it too awkward or ostracizing.

It doesn't need to be, and shouldn't be this way. Many of us are eager to share our stories, and we have been waiting for the invitation to do so.

. . .

I am comforted when I see white people call things out for what they are. When my friends and I rented a 16-passenger van for a New Year's Eve trip to Montreal, we found ourselves held up at the border coming back. The older agent, surveying the passengers, asked how we all knew each other, to which we answered, "We all went to high school together." The officer then followed up by singling me out, "And how do you fit in here?" What he was suggesting about my place in the group of all white guys was telling enough, and the guys I was with were quick to support me and point it out to their parents when debriefing the trip once we arrived home. If only they knew how often I'd experienced situations like that one. White people should know that we need more conversations about little things like this. It's not our job to heal the world, but if we can start by getting people to question small interactions and beliefs, we can begin moving toward progress.

The white friends I grew up with have shared with me how thankful they are to have had me in their lives during their developmental years. They wonder what attitudes they might harbor if they hadn't had a black best friend their entire lives. They arrived at college to befriend kids who had never met a black person in their lives, and they encountered countless out of pocket statements from those individuals.

I am constantly thankful that I grew up with genuine white friends, unlike many of my extended family members. My cousin said to me once, "I don't like being around white people… I always feel like they hate me." I was able to learn that, more often than not, that isn't the case. Still, my cousin points to the overwhelming sentiment that black lives are not accepted or celebrated by white people.

Recent events present a unique opportunity to begin conversations that have been waiting to happen for far too long. To both black and white people, I'd write that understanding is a two-way street. To my white friends, I'd tell you that while that's true, white people have a longer journey to get to where we need to meet. It is time for white people to muster the courage to call out those comments you hear from your parents or uncles and aunts. The pass has been given for far too long, and every time you don't speak up, you enable far worse words and behaviors. For those of you who think an old dog can't learn new tricks, I'd point to the numerous white adults who have texted me this week noting that they have been in their bubble for too long, and asking me to keep sending them content. It's time to pop the bubble.

My experience as the token black friend has allowed me a unique lens into many of the gaps that currently prevent mutual understanding between white and black people. I have spent so much time in the white community and enjoyed the privileges that come with that, yet I am still affected by these issues. Despite my story's obvious differences from that of the average young black man, I believe it speaks to the immediate need for change. Additionally, it serves as an example of a genuinely meaningful relationship between a black person and white people and emphasizes the ability of white people to be either allies or enemies.

I will never turn my back on the black community. You'll bump our music and rep our athletes, but will you stand with us when it's not convenient? The pain is real. The stories are real. Our call for help is real. My uncle posted on Facebook yesterday, "When the dust settles, I wonder if anything will actually change?" To be honest, I'm not sure how quickly or how much things will change. But I know that one thing is directly within our individual control. You can celebrate black lives by making a choice to inquire about them, to educate yourself, and to question many of the norms around us. You no longer have the excuse of being unaware of your own ignorance. I'd reword my uncle's post to a question that we should all ask ourselves: "When the dust settles, I wonder if I will actually change?"

"No one is born hating another person because of the color of his skin, or his background, or his religion. People must learn to hate, and if they can learn to hate, they can be taught to love, for love comes more naturally to the human heart than its opposite." — Nelson Mandela, Long Walk to Freedom

This article originally appeared on Medium and was first shared here on 6.19.20. You can read it here. 

Canva Photos

A viral TikTok argues that women don't want to give up the joy of their own personal peace and freedom for anyone.

There's been a lot of discourse on the state of modern dating and a lot of theories on why it seems harder than ever for people to find connection with romantic partners. Could it be that the achievement and education gaps between men and women are altering the dynamics? Have social media and dating apps broken our brains and hearts? Do we all have unrealistic expectations and unlimited options, leading to never feeling satisfied with anything or anyone?

Those are all intriguing options, but an alternate theory has recently arisen that's quickly gaining steam: Maybe being single isn't as lonely as we think. Maybe being single is actually freaking awesome.

A guy on TikTok who goes by Get To the Point Bro shared a hilarious monologue on why women who have been single for a long time "don't want to date anymore." Women say he absolutely nailed it.

 the office, andy bernard, dating, relationships, dating advice, single, romance, love The Frenchman's monologue was absolutely spot on  Giphy  

At first, it might seem like he's poking fun, either at single women or at the men who can't seem to win them over. But not so! What he's done is perfectly captured the joy many people find in being single and, frankly, able to do whatever the hell they want.

"Some women have been single for so long they don't date anymore, they grant you access to their peaceful little empire like a reluctant queen handing you a visitor's badge," he says. "You text her good morning and she's already annoyed, like 'Why are you disturbing the sacred silence of my personal growth journey?'"

He goes on, "Bro she's been sleeping diagonally in her bed for three years, she's not giving up that territory because you opened the door and paid for coffee."

"You plan a cute date, she's thinking 'That sounds nice but also I could stay home, deep clean my apartment, do a 12 steps skincare routine, order sushi and not have to listen to a man breathe.'"

"You try to check in emotionally, 'How are you feeling?' She's feeling fantastic because you're not here."

"You're not competing with other guys. There are no other guys. You're competing with her weighted blanket, her peace, her cat named Chairman Meow, and the simple joy of not having to share her fries."

These are just a few of the best lines from the nearly 2-minute rant, all delivered in the most amazing French accent you can imagine. Please, enjoy:


@gettothepointbro

DATING A GIRL WHO IS USED TO BE ALONE CAN BE VERY HARD .

The best thing about the video is the discussion in the comments. Women want to know how this man got access to this top-secret information. The rant is so eerily, frighteningly accurate that women are convinced this French guy is living in their heads. That, or someone's secretly leaking intel.

"dammit. somebody call a meeting of the council. he knows too much."

"I dont often offer this compliment to the male species but you explained it better than I ever could."

"Alright, who’s told him this info??? So exposed right now"

"The joy of sleeping diagonally across my bed cannot be fully explained."

"This is the most accurate profiling I’ve ever heard. You absolutely ailed it."

Clearly, we've tapped into a real phenomenon here.

@gettothepointbro

CAN YOU RELATE LADIES ? THAT’S WHY WE LOVE YOU ❤️

The truth is that many people—both men and women—are disillusioned with the sad state of the dating scene these days. App burnout is a real thing, and meeting new people in real life is a ton of work. So, it's no surprise that more and more people are just choosing to stay single and enjoy all the perks that come along with it. This is a stark change, especially for women.

According to FiveThirtyEight, "Women were also more likely than men to say that they weren’t dating because they have other priorities right now." Priorities like travel, career, friendship, and even just self-care—all things that wind up taking a backseat when people get involved in relationships. It wasn't too long ago that women of a certain age that were still single were called "spinsters," but that word has lost a significant amount of power. This new generation of women aren't embarrassed or ashamed to be single; they're loving it for exactly all the reasons this video describes.

This article originally appeared in April.

A crying baby.

The names we give to our children can be very personal. They can reflect religious beliefs, family heritage, or have a special meaning attached to them, as in Grace, which means "divine favor," or Eli, which means "ascended." In the United States, people they are protected by the Constitution's First Amendment, freedom of speech, which allows us to name our babies whatever we like.

However, there have been some cases where the courts decided that a particular name is illegal, and, although it is infrequent, it has happened at least 10 times in the country. The most notable banned names are Misteri N-Word, King, Queen, Jesus Christ, III, Santa Claus, Majesty, Adolf Hitler, @, and 1069.

 court, court reporter, legal system, plaintiff, judge, baliff A court reporter taking notes.via Canva/Photos

Why are these 10 names banned in the United States?

III (Roman numerals pronounced “three”)

Thomas Boyd Ritchie III was known by many of his friends simply as III. So, he petitioned the court to have his name changed to Roman numerals. Sadly, a California court rejected the name change because it was a symbol and a number. It’s illegal for people to have numbers in their names because they can’t be entered into state name databases.

Misteri (N-word)

In the California Superior Court case Lee v. Superior Court (1992), Russell Lawrence Lee wanted to change his name to Misteri (N-word). Lee believed that the name could be used to conquer racial hatred. Unfortunately for Lee, the court denied his request, saying the name constituted “fighting words.”

@ (pronounced “at”)

The address symbol, or @, has been banned in multiple jurisdictions because, like a numeral, it cannot be input into state database records.

Jesus Christ

The name of the Christian lord and savior has been banned in several U.S. states based on claims of blasphemy and the possibility of confusion.

 jesus christ, heaven, god, divinity, holy trinity, religion Depiction of Jesus Christ in Heaven.via Canva/Photos

1069

In 1976, the North Dakota Supreme Court told high school teacher Michael Herbert Dengler that he could not change his name to “1069.” “The only way [my] identity can be expressed is 1069. The first character, 1, stands for my concept of nature which manifests itself as one individual among the various forms of life,” he noted. “I stand as a single entity amongst millions of other entities, animate and inanimate. But yet even though I am an entity unto myself, I am part of the whole of life which is one. I am one; life is one; and together we are one.”

He later moved to Minnesota and tried to change his name, but he was rejected again. Neither state allowed people to have numbers as their names.

Santa Claus

In December 1999, Robert William Handley of Ohio filed a petition to change his name to Santa Rob Claus, because he had played the Christmas character for the past 40 years, and was known as “Santa Rob” year-round. The court rejected his petition, saying it was “misleading to the children of the community.” Two years later, the Supreme Court of Utah allowed the name change.

 santa claus, santa rob, banned names, christmas, saint nick A photo of Santa Claus.via Canva/Photos

Majesty, King, Queen

In several states, naming your child after a royal title is illegal to avoid confusion with actual royalty. Does Queen Latifah know this?

Adolf Hitler

If you want to name your child Adolf Hitler, you can’t do it in Texas. After the atrocities he committed in the 1930s and ‘40s, his name has no place in the Lone Star State. However, you can be named Adolf Hitler in New Jersey. Back in 2009, there was a big hubbub when the father of Adolf Hitler Campbell wanted his child’s name written on a birthday cake, and the proprietor of the business refused.

This article originally appeared in May.

A woman in a hot car.

Cars can become unbearably hot in the summer. Even at a seemingly mild 80 degrees outside, the temperature inside can soar to a scorching 109°F within 20 minutes. According to the CDC, in just 40 minutes it can escalate to a blistering 118°F. After an hour, it can peak at a searing 123°F. And that’s just the air temperature; a dark dashboard or seat can reach a staggering 200°F.

"These objects (e.g., dashboard, steering wheel, child seat) heat the adjacent air by conduction and convection and also give off longwave radiation (red) which is very efficient at warming the air trapped inside a vehicle," the CDC explained in their report. It can take five to 10 minutes for your car to cool down on a hot day by turning on the air conditioning, which probably means you burn your buttocks and thighs on the hot seat. That’s why Hannah Fry shared an amazing hack on TikTok, demonstrating how to cool your car down in seconds using the laws of thermodynamics.

Fry is Professor of the Public Understanding of Mathematics at the University of Cambridge. She is a mathematician, a best-selling author, an award-winning science host, and the host of numerous popular podcasts and television shows.

@fryrsquared

That age-old dilemma of choosing between having a non-sweltering car or baffling a passerby because you look like a fool who doesn't know how to use a door

Fry suggests that instead of turning on the air conditioning, which she claims is “not worth it” because of the time it takes, open one of the windows on the opposite side of the door. Then, rapidly open and close the driver’s side door, so it moves back and forth like a fan.

“The reason why it works is that when you open and close the door, especially if you do it quickly, the door, as it's moving outwards, it sweeps out all of the air that's in its way, creating this sort of area of low pressure that you get here,” Fry said. “And then that sets up something called bulk flow, which is where all of the hot, sweaty, horrible air inside the car is drawn outwards.”

 hot car, hot steering wheel, hot man, sweat, summer,  A man sweating in his car.via Canva/Photos

Fry’s super practical approach to a problem everyone deals with blew many people’s minds in the comments. “If I ever catch someone in real life doing this, I’m gonna know they’ve watched this exact video,” a commenter wrote. “I will give it a go, but while opening and closing the door, scream, ‘Be gone, heat demons! BE GONE!’” another added. “Going to remember this the next time my partner farts in the car,” someone joked.

The fact that the inside air temperature in a car and the outside temperature are often drastically different, especially in the summer, serves as a crucial reminder to dog owners everywhere to never leave their pet unattended in a parked car. "Most dog owners know that you can’t leave a pet in a hot car," the American Kennel Club writes. "Temperatures can rise to dangerous levels in just minutes, putting your dog at risk of heatstroke. But what if you open a window a little bit? Does that make it safe to leave your dog in the car? The answer is simple. You should never leave a dog alone in the car, even with the windows cracked. In some states, it’s even illegal."

The following video by The Dodo explains why leaving a dog in a hot car can be deadly, even when it doesn’t feel that hot outside.

  - YouTube  www.youtube.com  

Nature

"We were robbed": Unexpected rejects from the U.S. National Park System

“If the silver discovery hadn’t happened...Lake Tahoe almost certainly would have been a national park."

Lake Tahoe was almost a national park, but politics got in the way.

You know the adage, “Always a bridesmaid, never a bride.” Well, something similar happens out in the wild: not every natural wonder gets to become a national park. For every Yellowstone or Yosemite national park, there are dozens of equally jaw-dropping American landscapes that were denied this coveted designation—and the unparalleled federal protection that comes with it.

From Lake Tahoe’s radiant blue waters to the fossil-rich canyons of Dinosaur National Monument, there are dozens of breathtaking natural beauties across the country that are just that: natural beauties with thriving ecosystems, but not national parks. Behind each rejection, there’s always a fascinating story of politics, competing financial interests, and a constantly changing definition of what “deserves” national protection waiting in the wings.

 Lake Tahoe, national parks, blue water, natural beauty, nature Many people—including Lake Tahoe’s biggest advocate, conservationist John Muir—fought for Lake Tahoe to become a national park.Photo credit: Canva

Often called “the Jewel of the Sierra,” or “Ocean in the sky,” Lake Tahoe is a marvel. Visitors of the 2-million-year-old lake enjoy pristine snow-capped peaks, gorgeous pine trees, and the prettiest, clearest water imaginable. Mark Twain even wrote of Lake Tahoe, “I thought it must surely be the fairest picture the whole earth affords.” Naturally, many people—including Lake Tahoe’s biggest advocate, conservationist John Muir—fought for Lake Tahoe to become a national park, and multiple attempts were made from the 1880s and 1930s.

The problem? Virginia City, Nevada in 1859.

Eighteen hundred and fifty-nine was the year silver was discovered there, and as local historian David Antonucci explains, “If the silver discovery in Virginia City hadn’t happened, the course of history in Lake Tahoe would have been a lot different. It almost certainly would have been a national park."

 Skiing, lake tahoe, national park, rejection, silver If not for that darn silver....Photo credit: Canva

The resulting mining rush altered Lake Tahoe’s landscape forever, most significantly impacting the tall, ancient trees that dotted the Tahoe Basin, which were systematically chopped down to build mine shafts. Twenty years later, it was estimated that more than 33 million board feet of timber were being cut down annually. To put that into perspective, that’s the equivalent of 2,749,999 cubic feet: the amount of wood required to fill 1,150 shipping containers or 88,000 Olympic-sized pools.

Due to this massive degradation of Lake Tahoe’s precious resources, the National Park Service later concluded that the extensive tourism and land development had compromised the lake’s nature beyond repair, ruling it unsuitable for national park designation.

 judge, gavel, overruled, rejection, no Sadly, Lake Tahoe's proposals were overruled.  Giphy  

Why do places seek national park status in the first place? Lake Tahoe has no ego; the land itself does not seek fame, fortune, or glory. But there are several incentives both for the land and the surround communities that make the fight for national park status worth it. National parks enjoy certain VIP privileges, including an army of park rangers and maintenance crews provided by the federal government.

National parks, like the scenic Great Smoky Mountains National Park, Grand Canyon National Park, and Zion National Park, are protected to the highest degree possible against resource extraction, land development and other harmful practices. The are nothing short of astounding: miraculous havens for animals and native plants, flourishing wildlife habitats, and the preservation of vital cultural resources.

Then, there’s the tourism aspect: another powerful motivation for communities to support national park designation is the incredible bump in sightseers—paying visitors—that begin to arrive. National parks are tourist magnets, with Great Smoky Mountain National Park welcoming more than 12 million visitors in 2020. It’s the type of tourism that can turn a rural town into a bucket list destination and economically alter a community forever. Think of the last national park you visited and the crop of tourism-related businesses that surrounded it: lodging, restaurants, themed retail stores, guided tours, and more.

 yellowstone, national park, tourism, economy, nature  National parks are the ultimate tourism magnets. Photo credit: Canva


 car, national park, economy, money, tourism Entire economies depend on a local national park. via TravelinUSA

Sadly, Dinosaur National Monument is another destination that never enjoyed national park status and the plethora of perks that come with it. Nestled in the rugged borderlands straddling Colorado and Utah, this huge national treasure spans over 210,000 acres—that’s larger than Bryce Canyon and Zion National Park combined. The natural wonder features an unparalleled 800 paleontology sites and the Carnegie Quarry, which boasts a 150-million-year-old wall full of roughly 1,500 exposed fossilized dinosaur bones.

Dinosaur National Monument also offers astonishing views of the nighttime sky, deeming it an International Dark Sky Park (IDSP) in honor of its exceptional nocturnal environment and supreme views of the cosmos. Obviously, this archaeological beauty would be a shoo-in for national park status, right?

 dinosaur national park, rejected, natural beauty, national park, national monument Dinosaur National Monument looks like a national park, but is it?Photo credit: Canva

Unfortunately, meddling outside forces struck again: after multiple attempts, Dinosaur National Monument has not been formally rejected as a national park, but it's progress has been stalled for a long time due to local opposition. Commissioners and stakeholders in the area feared that a national park designation would jeopardize their various ranching and energy investments and blocked any attempts to elevate Dinosaur National Monument to national park status.

Becoming a national park is no walk in the park. Rules are scrupulous, community support is vital, and the power of public perception matters. In many ways, that’s a good thing: the National Park Service’s uncompromising criterion ensures precious American tax-payer money is reserved for only the most exemplary resources in the country, both natural and cultural, in a world that, increasingly, seeks to destroy them. But what of Lake Tahoe, Dinosaur National Park, Silver Falls in Oregon, or the Adirondack Mountains?

For reasons that have nothing to do with their importance, significance, or natural beauty, these landscapes lack national park designation and the protections that come with it. But that doesn’t mean they’re not worth visiting. So, the next time you’re planning a nature trip, consider adding these beauties to your list. You just might be pleasantly surprised.

This article originally appeared in May.

A woman in black long sleeve shirt stands in front of mirror.

Have you ever had that friend who goes on vacation for four days to London and comes back with a full-on Queen's English posh accent? "Oooh I left my brolly in the loo," they say, and you respond, "But you're from Colorado!" Well, there are reasons they (and many of us) do that, and usually it's on a pretty subconscious level.

It's called "accent mirroring," and it's actually quite common with people who are neurodivergent, particularly those with ADHD (Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder). According Neurolaunch, the self-described "Free Mental Health Library," "Accent mirroring, also known as accent adaptation or phonetic convergence, is the tendency to unconsciously adopt the accent or speech patterns of those around us. This linguistic chameleon effect is not unique to individuals with ADHD, but it appears to be more pronounced and frequent in this population."

 Chameleon, science, reptile, adaptation, mirroring A chameleon rolls its eyes.   Giphy SWR Kindernetz 

Essentially, when people have conversations, we're constantly "scanning" for information—not just the words we're absorbing, but the inflection and tone. "When we hear an accent, our brains automatically analyze and categorize the phonetic features, prosody, and intonation patterns," writes Neurolaunch. For most, this does result in copying the accent of the person with whom we're speaking. But those with ADHD might be more sensitive to auditory cues. This, "coupled with a reduced ability to filter out or inhibit the impulse to mimic…could potentially explain the increased tendency for accent mirroring."

While the article explains further research is needed, they distinctly state that, "Accent mirroring in individuals with ADHD often manifests as an unconscious mimicry of accents in social situations. This can range from subtle shifts in pronunciation to more noticeable changes in intonation and speech rhythm. For example, a person with ADHD might find themselves unconsciously adopting a Southern drawl when conversing with someone from Texas, even if they’ve never lived in the South themselves."

 Sam Elliott, cowboy, southern accents Sam Elliott gives a tip of his cowboy hat.   Giphy, Sam Elliott, Grit TV  

People are having their say online. On the subreddit r/ADHDWomen, a thread began: "Taking on accents is an ADHD thing?" The OP shares, "My whole life, I've picked up accents. I, myself, never noticed, but everyone around me would be like, 'Why are you talking like that??' It could be after I watched a show or movie with an accent or after I've traveled somewhere with a different accent than my 'normal.'

They continue, "Apparently, I pick it up fast, but it fades out slowly. Today... I'm scrolling Instagram, I watch a reel from a comedian couple (Darcy and Jeremy. IYKYK) about how Darcy (ADHD) picks up accents everywhere they go. It's called ADHD Mirroring??? And it's another way of masking."

(The OP is referring to Darcy Michaels and his husband Jeremy Baer, who are both touring comedians based in Canada.)

Hundreds of people on the Reddit thread alone seem to relate. One comments, "Omfg I've done this my whole life; I'll even pick up on the pauses/spaces when I'm talking to someone who is ESL—but English is my first language lol."

Sometimes, it can be a real issue for those around the chameleon. "I accidentally mimicked a waitress's weird laugh one time. As soon as she was out of earshot, my family started to reprimand me, but I was already like 'oh my god I don’t know why I did that, I feel so bad.'"

@theweirdocoach

Anyone else? #adhdawareness #adhdinwomen #neurodivergent


Many commenters on TikTok were shocked to find out this can be a sign of ADHD. One jokes, "Omg, yes, at a store the cashier was talking to me and she was French. She's like 'Oh are you French too? No, I'm not lol. I'm very east coast Canada."

And some people just embrace it and make it work for them. "I mirror their words or phrase! I’m 30. I realized I start calling everyone sweetie cause my manager does & I work at coffee shop."

This article originally appeared in May.