The culture of disrespect: how did we get here?

America has always had a love-hate relationship with the indecent.

We're fascinated by pain and oddly curious about embarrassment. Our television shows celebrate awkward situations while our movies glorify gore. Even some of our children's toys--many of them dolls with super-sexy outfits and big pouty lips--are purchased by the thousands and then criticized for being sexually suggestive.

Culture critics have said our continued exploration of such negativity could lead to self-destruction unless we self-correct. And three months ago, that's exactly what began to happen. Following the public debasement and verbal humiliation of a group of Black women by a nationally syndicated White talk show host, America collectively decided to check herself. Enough was enough, and the public--in particular Black folks--questioned our acceptance of a culture of disrespect and if it was time to reverse the trend.

Should we blame the arts and the media for our loss of social graces and our seemingly newfound ability to curse like sailors? Do we blame the isms of sex, race and class? And, most important, how in the heck did we get here?

Self-help author Iyanla Vanzant offers some insight: "We're mindless, we're not thoughtful. In mindlessness we create an environment that nurtures anger and disrespect and dishonor."

Harvard Medical School psychiatry professor Alvin Poussaint takes it one step further. "I think it's a manifestation of a lack of respect for ourselves and our people," says Poussaint, an authority on raising Black children. "This debasing type of language shows that we as a people still have issues with feeling it's inferior to be Black, and we're acting it all out. If you want to trace where that comes from, it comes from slavery and segregation."

The Culture Compass

Any conversation on indecency is colored by society's generic cultural compass, which swings wildly throughout history and is magnified by the popular media. And it's nothing new. Across race and ethnicities, we have always participated in discussions of the indecent and disrespectful.

Classic composer Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart created music in the 1700s that was considered vulgar. Blues composer Thomas Dorsey invoked the wrath of the Black church when he created gospel music in the early 1930s. Classic writer Vladimir Nabakov in the 1950s wrote Lolita, a book that sexualized a pre-teen girl and resulted in his work being banned. Ragtime, the blues, jazz, rock 'n roll and even disco flirted with indecency. Similar evolutions occurred with movies and television, where nudity and sex are now the norm.

America's most recent re-examination of indecency climaxed three months ago, when radio show host Don Imus unleashed what some considered a racially and sexually abhorrent tongue-lashing upon the Rutgers University women's basketball team. The moment was historic because the nation--and the almighty dollar--had finally reached a negativity limit, and people reacted in protest. Advertisers shied away from the show and Imus lost his job while an ongoing movement to balance media portrayals of Black people gained momentum.

The shakedown on foul language and behavior quickly bypassed most media, landing squarely on that portion of hiphop music that frequently uses sexually and racially charged "dirty" words. Critics adopted an "off with their heads" attitude while hip-hop artists pled for understanding and freedom of speech. Radio stations and dubs were confronted with the building crescendo of anger and hurt and calls to fix it.

Chuck D of Public Enemy fame finds the Imus and hiphop reaction so significant that it might mark the end of what he describes as a 15-year stretch of companies profiting from routinely disrespecting Black folks.

Prior to the 1990s, corporations weren't profiting solely off the Black community and because of a lack of crossover in film, music and comedy, the Black community held itself in check in terms of decency, says Chuck. This changed when Black culture became packaged and commercialized for the masses.

"The '90s blew the images back into the mainstream and the negative aligned quicker with old-American stereotypes," says Chuck. "Thus it became a thing that evolved from laughing with us to laughing at us."

Ironically, through Imus' popularity in the White media, the Black activist community and high-profile Blacks in key business positions had finally found a way to bring their decades-long battle against cultural disrespect into the mainstream.

"Imus was just a toenail kicking the door in for more discussion," says Bill Banfield, professor of Africana Studies, Music and Society at the Berklee College of Music in Boston. "We've been concerned about it since day one. When blues entered in 1920 with Mamie Smith's "Crazy Blues," people were concerned about the images and messages of Black culture. Imus didn't start nothing. He just stepped into a wave of complaints."