FENN'S IN MEDIA'S RACE

ON BECOMING WASEECU
Fenn comes out at last

In my early years, I meticulously hid any indication of my full-blooded WASEECU origins. I cleaved to the closet. I wanted no one to know of my tribal ancestry.

WASECU, by the way, have, for countless generations, been encamped in Massachusetts on the banks of the Charles River. Annual Pow Wows occur in Cambridge in early June every year. The ancient tribal name is derived in the following manner: W hite A nglo S axon E gghead E ast C oast U nitarian.

My first discovery of the joys of the closet occurred when two classmates and myself went by Greyhound bus to Kalispell, Montana one summer. We had determined to take work as lumberjacks (choker setters, really) at the North American Timber Company. We were terrified when the inevitable question was asked.

"College boys, eh? Where you go?"

"Harvard," the more courageous of us said.

"Yeah? That something like the University of Montana?"

"Oh, yeah. Yeah, just like that, you betcha."

When I first was entrapped in the Army, I felt that here was an environment where I could pass, for sure.

So there we were. A couple of pre-privates (whatever they were called during Basic Training) in the barracks at Fort Dix. At any rate, we were whizzing in one of those tin lined troughs.

"In the Reserves?"

"Yeah. (pause) You go to school?"

"College, you mean?"

"Yeah, College."

"Yeah. Where'd you go?"

"Massachusetts ... Cambridge."

"Yeah? Me too!"

My voice drops to an excited whisper, "Harvard?"

Whispered answer, "Yeah! Yeah, Harvard."

Damn, I'd found a fellow WASEECU! We both looked furtively around, making sure we weren't out of the closet to anyone but each other, then established a firm friendship.

However, for some forty years I have carefully hidden my origins. I have always utilized a chameleon-like use of language systems to stay in the closet, sliding instantly from New Yorkese, flavored with neo-Yiddish, to a kind of white man's Ebonics, or a cawntry drawl, depending on who I was talking to.

In the process I noticed in most cases, if you talk to folks in their own dialect ... or at least demonstrate an understanding of their vocabulary ... there is an immediate positive response. If I'd spoken WASEECU, my native tongue, distrust and contempt would have been their first reaction.

However, as time went by, and as I explored other identities, "passing", I assimilated such positive qualities, value systems and speech habits I fancied, rejecting what I didn't.

Finally I felt secure enough in myself to celebrate my WASEECU roots. Of course, it didn't hurt that I found myself teaching on the college level ... being a WASEECU is a plus in academia, believe me!

So, in my seniority, I am coming full circle. Not to say I find myself a complete member of my original tribe ... I'm far more of a Taoist than a Unitarian, for instance. But I am often not only content, but even tend to celebrate, my tribal origins.

Still and all, I remember with great pride the time when I was walking down the halls of an inner city high school where I taught and, before thinking, a group of young African American kids greeted me with an ebullient, "Whassup, OG!"

OG is a term of respect for gang elders, translated as Old (or Original) Gangsta. I do think if ever I have occasion to use the letters of my Harvard degree after my name, I will do so as follows:

Mr. John W. Fenn, BA, Harvard; OG, Street

thereby flaunting both my WASEECU origins and my assimilated identity.