"OKOP", "NOKOP" and Oscar: a long post about class, family, and pride

Here on the blog, I've touched on issues of race before: just over two months ago, my post "The Happy WASP Boy" generated some fairly heated responses. With tongue only partially planted in cheek, I wrote then:

But here's the thing I've realized in my life:  though there is much that is vacuous and materialistic about North American middle-class culture, that has damn all to do with skin color or ethnic heritage!  I grew up with a father who was a European war refugee and a mother who came from an "old" California family of German, English,and Scots-Irish ancestry.  I spent most of my time with my mother's side of the family, and they formed my values and my world view. 

Yes, we're WASPs.  If you want to stereotype one aspect of us, we're a Brooks Brothers wearing, Bloody Mary drinking, Buick Roadmaster station-wagon driving, fraternity and sorority joining, tennis-playing, mayonnaise and meat loaf eating, Junior League cookbook owning, monogrammed thank-you note writing, Town and Country magazine reading, English horseback riding, debutante ball attending, Social Register listed, pastel polo-shirt or sweater set clad clan.  Without apologies.

There was a lot of discussion in the comments, and it was pointed out to me by several people that my characterization of my family was less about skin color and more about class.  I think I was aware of that when I wrote the post, but honestly, felt awkward about writing about my family and my background in terms of class.  Where I come from, class is hinted at but never discussed: just in blogging about my family in these posts, I've violated some rules.  There are certain topics that aren't to be talked about too openly, and issues of class and money are among them.

When we were cynical teenagers, my brother and I came up with the terms OKOP and NOKOP.  OKOP stood for "Our Kind of People"; NOKOP (obviously) for "Not Our Kind of People."  We used the words ironically, expressing our chagrin at what we saw as the subtle elitism and snobbery of many members of our extended clan.  My cousins of my generation picked up the terms, and at times, the line between the sincere and the ironic use of the acronyms became blurred.  Someone would bring home a girlfriend to meet the family, and she would tie her sweater around her waist instead of draping it over her shoulders.  "So NOKOP", we'd mouth to each other over the family dinner table.   I once brought a friend to a Fourth of July party who wore a "Porn Star" baseball cap.    "She's nice", said one cousin, "but a bit NOKOP, don't you think?"  What began as an expression to poke fun at certain elements of class consciousness in our clan became instead a way of reinforcing those same elements.   That's what happens, I suppose.

Of course, we've become a much more diverse family over the years.  Half-a-dozen of us are in interracial marriages with people from a wide variety of social backgrounds.   A great many of us don't care about the things an older generation cared about; only a handful of my cousins still worry about who's in the Social Register and keeping up expensive club memberships.  And well over half of us vote solidly Democratic -- something that would have horrified our great-grandparents' generation.  (My mother's father and his brother were the only members of their entire family who voted for FDR).

For years and years, I struggled to come to terms with whether or not I wanted to embrace or reject certain aspects of my "class background."  At Berkeley, I learned quickly that others were allowed to say with pride that they were the first in the family to go to university -- but I couldn't say "I'm a fourth-generation Golden Bear" without being greeted with rolled eyes and epithets like "f-ing snob".  Those of us who were from "old families" (a favorite euphemism of the upper-middle classes) learned to conceal it -- or openly disparage it.  When I lived in a co-op at Cal (I had become the first male member of my mother's family in a century not to pledge a fraternity), I knew one other gal in the house who came from a similar background to my own.  We both made a conscious choice to make fun of our privileges.  We wore our Che Guevara t-shirts and wallowed in white guilt like pigs in a trough.

My sophomore year in Ridge House, I had a roommate named "Oscar."  Oscar was from a Mexican-American family in the Central Valley; he was the first in his family to go to college.  Oscar was active in MEChA, as well as the society for Hispanic Engineers and Scientists (two organizations that didn't always see eye-to-eye, but that's another story.)  He talked with great pride about his family and what it was like to grow up the son of agricultural laborers, spending half his childhood in Michoacan and the other half in rural Fresno County. But I didn't want to talk about growing up spending my childhood in places like Santa Barbara and Piedmont and Carmel by-the-Sea.  Where Oscar was proud of his family, I was ashamed of what I believed at the time to be unmerited good fortune and privilege. 

Oscar was a smart lad and a good friend; we went to church together.  One day he asked me: "Hugo, why are you so ashamed of who you are?"  I protested that I wasn't, and he persisted: "You walk around apologizing for being a white boy from Carmel all the time.  It's getting really old.  Your family is part of who you are, and you should be proud of your roots.  Period.  Even if you can't pronounce your own name right."  (He insisted on calling me "Ooogo", rather than the English "Hugh-go" or the German "Hoo-go.")

I told Oscar it wasn't that easy.   I said:  "People admire you for coming from where you've come from -- they don't feel that same way about white guys whose great-grandfathers went here.  It's like I haven't earned being here."   Oscar laughed and laughed:  "Shit, Oooogo, sometimes I worry everyone thinks I got in here because of affirmative action; you're worrying you got in here because of your relatives' influence.   We both doubt ourselves because of our backgrounds, as different as we are -- that's just classic!"  I laughed with him.   

And then I shared with him the terms "NOKOP" and "OKOP", and I believe I made his whole semester.    As soon as I explained the terms to him, he rolled on the floor in hysterics, gasping in two languages.  The English consisted of "Oh, you f-ing white people, you f-ing white people, I love you soooo much". As if this wasn't bizarre enough, Oscar then picked up the phone in our room and called up a series of his friends from MEChA, telling them about me and NOKOP and OKOP. And if you were around Oscar or his friends in the 1986-87 academic year, you would have heard them using the acronyms constantly, often in exaggerated accents modeled on Mr. Howell from Gilligan's Island: "Ernie, you ridiculous pocho imbecile, that outfit is soooo NOKOP."

Oscar met my parents and my aunt on one occasion, and was gracious as could be.  Though he and his friends enjoyed ribbing me, he was also sending me a very positive message: I shouldn't take myself or my family so damned seriously.  Oscar taught me that my "white guilt" and my "working class chic" were both affectations that only reinforced my image as an earnest, clueless, elitist.   More than anyone else, Oscar believed that we are simultaneously products of our family background and our own unique choices.  He urged me to always separate the two, and he taught me that shame and guilt ought only be associated with the latter, never the former.  "Your family's your family, man", he'd say; "Love them, be proud of them, and don't pretend they aren't who they are."

I haven't heard from Oscar in over a decade; last time we talked, he was back in grad school pursuing a second Ph.D. -- and I had just started teaching at PCC.   As he always did, he brought up NOKOP and OKOP.   The last time we talked, I had just gotten my nipples pierced (it was an impulse) and I shared the rather painful news with him.  He shrieked with laughter; "Ooogo, even I KNOW that has to be soooo NOKOP."  I agreed that indeed it was, and that my family would not take it well.   "Man", Oscar snorted, "you're going to be all right."

I rarely use NOKOP or OKOP except in jest any more; neither do my cousins.  I don't worry about whether or not my name is in the Social Register, and I'd rather tithe to God than pay dues to the Valley Hunt or the Jonathan Club.  But I don't pretend, either, that those things were not at least a part of my heritage; I don't deny my background any more.   My family taught me early on not to boast or brag -- OKOP don't draw attention to themselves.  But Oscar taught me that there is no virtue in being embarrassed by one's heritage, and he taught me that constant apologies were just another sign of privilege.  Living in happy gratitude for one's heritage --  with the assurance that one is neither above or beneath any other person because of that heritage -- is what he urged. And it's Oscar's words I still try and follow these days.

Comments

[Miracula]

You know, Hugo, as a Latina I can't help but wonder if you didnt completely misunderstand Oscar's point. I find it hard to believe that all he, a member of MECHA, wanted from you was to be more accepting of your family - that seems so superficial somehow. DIdn't he challege you more than that?

I don't mean to come down so hard on you two consecutive days. I thought this post was great and funny and fascinating, nd I'm going to share OKOP and NOKOP as soon as I finish this comment. I really do like your blog.

[The Happy Feminist]

But Miracula, I think that Oscar did challenge Hugo by showing him how shallow "his white guilt and working class chic" were. It sounds like Oscar was saying, hey you don't get brownie points for exaggerated displays of disgust at the sins of your forbears. Don't pander to people from less privileged backgrounds by disavowing your family. Focus on your own conduct and acting in a way that matters rather than useles posturing.

I can relate to a lot of what you say, Hugo. During adolescence, I developed a finely tuned class radar and I used to cringe if someone wore a badly fitting suit or used bad grammar or committed any of the NOKOP sins. (Not that I called it NOKOP, thank goodness!) I think maturity means realizing that none of that stupid crap matters. It's the content of a person's character that matters not whether they are wearing a Savile Row suit versus a polyester disco outfit.

I also think that hiding one's background can imply that you really do think it's important. On the other hand, people resent it if you drop that your family was in the Social Register or belonged to certain clubs or had money. So it is a double bind for people from that kind of background, although certainly something that can be navigated fairly easily compared to other problems in the world.

[Hugo]

Thanks, Happy -- that was indeed how I understood Oscar's point. And yes, it is a "double-bind" sometimes, particularly when I spend so much of my life teaching in a community college which is over 80% non-white and has a huge majority of first-generation students.

[Goran D]

You definitely don't come across as an elitist when you teach. But what do I know I am another white guy!

Hugo, one question. I read your whole post and what I most want to know is: you had your nipples PIERCED? Do you still have them in?

[NancyP]

This makes me chuckle in recognition. I remember being embarrassed in college that I wasn't either taking out loans or working, when many of my peers were doing so.

[bmmg39]

"I think labels are for canned food." -- Michael Stipe

[erica]

I enjoyed this post too... I think it is Oscar's advice is healthy- wish it were easy.

[MVa]

It's the content of a person's character that matters not whether they are wearing a Savile Row suit versus a polyester disco outfit.

I agree. Let all people be judged by their character - not their gender, their race, how they look, what they wear, how much they earn. We are all innocent until proven to have a bad character.

[Eric]

Me too Ooogo! I agree with Oscar. I feel the same way he does.

[The Happy Feminist]

Curious Hugo -- do you pronounce your name Hugh-go or Hoo-go?

[EL]

I've said before and I'll say again that, if we want "allies" in any struggle, we're not going to get them by making them ashamed of themselves. (That doesn't mean never call someone on classism or homophobia or racism or sexism.) And I know this is far from a consensus, but I am personally in the camp that believes we have very little without allies. If allies are constantly having to "pass" or "guilt" then their work toward social justice can only be a phase. They won't feel like keeping it up that long, in part because they'll start to doubt the importance of the claims made; after all, those people will feel oppressed for being who they are too.

So ... Hugo, I love this post. Fair and balanced, friends, this is what it means.

[Hugo]

Hugh-go. Thanks, all.

[mythago]

we're not going to get them by making them ashamed of themselves

Hugo isn't talking about anyone 'making' him ashamed. He's talking about the privilege to wallow in pseudo-guilt as a badge of hipness, instead of accepting one's background and origins while acknowledging privilege and working for equality.

[curiousgyrl]

"I believed at the time to be unmerited good fortune and privilege"

What do you now believe it to be?

I mean, I completely agree that shallow anti-elitism is simply the reverse of elitism (witness the easy OKOP NOKOP irony/sincerity flip, but I dont think that accepting the reality of your class and background is the same as aceepting the merit of the privledge it affords.

[Geo]

My wife is Black and I'm White. I twinge a little when she and other Black people - nod to each other, acknowledging each other when they're in mostly White worlds.

I feel left out and sometimes emotionally feel like B - should just "be normal" and not be so sensitive to racism, sexism and bodyism that she encounters - as an assertive, "uppity" (in a good sense) person.

It is important for me - to listen - and to hear the feelings and the hurts and just the life experiences - so different from my own.

I twinge also when fellow Jews - say: "I'm not White, I'm Jewish" - feeling like they can "pass" - while my Wife sure can't.

Overt racism - isn't that visible for us in our lives, but more subtle things come up. Often - one doesn't know - Which "oppression" is the issue - if any at all.

As an (not young) Upper-Middle Class White Male - I see it most important to try to do things - directly when I can with others who may share similarities with me - A Jewish Voice For Peace - is one group I admire. (Supporting others - People of Color, Women etc. - is helpful, but not often as a part of "their group").

Where we often run into trouble I think is where we try to: "help those poor ...." - (Blacks, Women, Poor People) - and are condescending, controling or asking others to spend serious time with us to assuage our guilt or whatever.

We can help others - where we want to give help! We can take care of our own emotional growth - as you Hugo and others have spoken of.

Thanks - for another Excellent Posting!

Geo

[EL]

Hugo isn't talking about anyone 'making' him ashamed. He's talking about the privilege to wallow in pseudo-guilt as a badge of hipness, instead of accepting one's background and origins while acknowledging privilege and working for equality.

What if it's not "pseudo-guilt", what if it's real guilt? What if it's not about "hipness" but is instead about a legitimate wish to dis-identify with things one adamantly doesn't believe in? Even if that dis-identification is, in fact, completely unhelpful, I don't think it makes sense to see it as coming from a disingenuous place. In fact, I don't think that writing off the reactions of potential allies by assuming
they are "pseudo" or simply a "badge of hipness" really limits our understanding of how "privilege" and "oppression" operate.

[EL]

That last sentence should actually read:

In fact, I think that writing off the reactions of potential allies by assuming they are "pseudo" or simply a "badge of hipness" really limits our understanding of how "privilege" and "oppression" operate.

[Hugo]

Well, it was real guilt, EL, but misplaced. What should I feel guilty about? Guilt that, when it came to coming to California (as my uncle put it) my family "got here first and stole more?" My family's money was made largely through ties to the Southern Pacific Railroad (my great-great grandfather and my great-grandfather were both attorneys for that big monopoly). While I am not going to say "Gosh, I'm so proud of them!", I don't share in a collective guilt imposed on me by my ancestors.

I can work for a more just and equitable world without denouncing my heritage or engaging in a masturbatory fiesta of self-criticism. Plenty of progressives from backgrounds of privilege spend so much time apologizing for that privilege that they waste energy that could be spent on building a better world. Guilt is rarely a productive emotion, particularly when it is guilt rooted less in what one did oneself, and more in what one's class, race, or forebears did.

[Cynthia]

Hugo! Wonderful post. You and I came into contact when you were the Brooks Brothers seemingly starched white boy from Carmel. And frankly, not only did I write you off, which I realize was my bias-- I was completely annoyed by you. But I agree with you about guilt and how it functions. I don't know from psuedo-guilt, but I do know that emotions that inspire growth have a driving purpose and are something to be slogged through, rather than tossed off.

And hey, I'm glad to know you now, and share in your thoughts on poetry and life.

[Hugo]

Oh Cynthia, how I remember that class all those years ago. I've come a long way since, thank you for noticing! Cheers to you!

[perplexed]

I am a white guy. Should I feel guilty?

Is it wrong to live my life the best I can, and be nice to others who I meet, regardless of their gender or race? I think there's a danger of falling into the "I have black friends too" type of self-consciousness by over-analysing my behaviour. I find I get best results by being myself in anyone's company - people appreciate that more than me seeing them as a woman or a black person or whatever and acting accordingly. No special treatment, no worse treatment. It's like wearing "personality specs" where you see the personality first and last.

[Tesemboms]

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