newyorker--2020-01-13--Have We Outgrown the Need for Affirmative Action?

The terrible paradox of the civil-rights movement is that outlawing racial discrimination made it harder to remediate its effects .
Once we amended the Constitution and passed laws to protect people of color from being treated differently in ways that were harmful to them , the government had trouble enacting programs that treat people of color differently in ways that might be beneficial .
We took race out of the equation only to realize that , if we truly wanted not just equality of opportunity for all Americans but equality of result , we needed to put it back in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ affirmative action .
The term was introduced to the Kennedy Administration almost sixty years ago , and its arrival was somewhat haphazard .
According to Nicholas Lemann ’ s history of meritocracy , “ The Big Test , ” the man who suggested it was an African-American lawyer named Hobart Taylor , Jr .
He was a Texan , and when John F. Kennedy was sworn in , in 1961 , he dropped in on the inaugural ball for Texans in order to shake hands with the new Vice-President , Lyndon B. Johnson @ @ @ @ @ @ @ him to come by his office .
When Taylor showed up , Johnson handed him a draft of what would become Executive Order 10925 , setting up the President ’ s Committee on Equal Employment Opportunity , which Johnson was to chair .
Taylor read the draft and said he thought it could use a little work ; Johnson asked him to do a rewrite .
And that is when Taylor inserted the words “ affirmative action.
” He liked the phrase , he later said , because of the alliteration ( or @ @ @ @ @ @ @ flexible phrase because Kennedy ’ s committee was a bureaucratic entity with a vague mandate meant to signal the Administration ’ s commitment to fairness in employment .
Its purview , like the purview of committees dating back to the Administration of Franklin Roosevelt , was the awarding of federal contracts , and its mandate was to see that companies the federal government did business with did not discriminate on the basis of race .
The committee had no real enforcement mechanism , though , so “ affirmative action ” was intended to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ their workforce something like “ Don ’ t just stand there .
Do something.
” What they were supposed to do , aside from not discriminating , was unspecified .
“ Do something ” is still one of the meanings of “ affirmative action ” today .
Many firms and educational institutions have affirmative-action or diversity officers .
Their job is to insure not only that hiring and promotion are handled in a color-blind manner but that good-faith efforts are made to include racial minorities ( and sometimes individuals in other categories , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ persons ) in the hiring pool , and , if they are qualified , to attempt to recruit them .
In this context , “ affirmative ” means : demonstrate that you did your best to find and promote members of underrepresented groups .
You do not have to give them preferential treatment .
Since the late nineteen-sixties , however , affirmative action has also had a more proactive meaning , as the name of an effort to attain a certain number , or , as it ’ s called today , “ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ in a business or an educational institution by , if necessary , giving applicants from those groups preference over similarly or better qualified whites .
This form of affirmative action is usually branded by those who disapprove of it with the dreaded Q-word , “ quota.
” After 1978 , when the Supreme Court declared racial quotas unconstitutional , affirmative-action programs avoided any suggestion of the Q-word .
But that is essentially what affirmative action in this second sense entails .
You can use terms like “ targets ” and “ goals , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , but if you have an idea of the point at which you would attain a critical mass then you have a quota .
Apart from stone-cold racists , everyone is happy , or claims to be happy , with affirmative action in the first sense .
And many people are happy , or will say they are , with affirmative action in the second sense so far as the outcome is concerned .
Legally , we want the system to be color-blind ; we want everyone to have the same rights .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ t want their racial or gender identities to be ignored .
They want them to be recognized and respected .
People take a civic pride in having a racially diverse workplace or educational institution .
It ’ s just that many would rather not contemplate too closely the means used to achieve it .
Of the people who like racial diversity but don ’ t like affirmative action in the preferential sense , there are two types .
One type believes that we can ban all forms of preferential treatment and , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ against discrimination , still achieve equality of result .
These people see affirmative action as unfairly penalizing those who are not biased themselves and who have enjoyed no personal benefit from discrimination , and they see it as stigmatizing members of underrepresented groups with the suspicion that they are underqualified for the jobs they hold or the school they attend .
The other type of affirmative-action skeptic is the person who knows that this is wishful thinking but is unable to get his or her head around the idea that the way to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ law professor Melvin Urofsky , in “ The Affirmative Action Puzzle ” ( Pantheon ) , says he is agnostic on the issue , but he would seem to be a person of the second type .
He wants racial diversity , and he knows that it is not going to come about on its own very soon , but he thinks that specific goals or targets are at odds with the rights of individuals .
That ’ s why he calls it a puzzle .
The history of affirmative action is woven @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , and the history of American race relations is woven into the history of America .
It is the eternal bone in the national throat .
So when Urofsky takes us through the history of affirmative action—he starts with Reconstruction , but the story really begins in the nineteen-sixties—he is giving us what amounts to a history of the country from John F. Kennedy to Donald Trump .
You see the decades go past as you read , and the special flavor of each Presidency comes back : Kennedy ’ s uncomfortable recognition @ @ @ @ @ @ @ that transcended his customary political pragmatism , Johnson ’ s miraculous emergence as the Moses of racial equality , Nixon ’ s inveterate scheming , Reagan ’ s bland duplicity , Obama ’ s undramatic realism .
Then we get to Trump , who , Urofsky points out , “ is the first Republican since the civil rights revolution to reach the White House without campaigning against affirmative action.
” Urofsky doesn ’ t say so , but one reason Trump ignored the issue is probably that politicians who oppose affirmative action normally @ @ @ @ @ @ @ blindness , and Trump is not color-blind .
( Alternative-facts explanation : Donald Trump is the least racist person you have ever met . )
There is a whole library on racial inequality and efforts to address it , and “ The Affirmative Action Puzzle ” does not offer many novelties .
But the book , just by the accumulation of sixty years ’ worth of evidence , allows us to reach some useful conclusions , and the most important of these is that affirmative action worked .
The federal government , with @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the 1964 Civil Rights Act and its legislative progeny—notably the Education Amendments of 1972 , home to the notorious ( in the R.B.G .
sense ) Title IX , banning sex discrimination in federally assisted educational institutions—and forced businesses to hire women and racial minorities .
And they did .
Study after study suggests that it is just not the case that “ it would have happened anyway.
” In 1981 , for example , as Urofsky tells us , the Reagan Labor Department commissioned a report on gains in hiring among African-Americans @ @ @ @ @ @ @ 1974 and 1980 the rate of minority employment in businesses that contracted with the federal government , and were therefore susceptible to being squeezed , rose by twenty per cent , and the rate of employment of women rose by 15.2 per cent .
In companies that did not contract with the government , the rates were twelve per cent and 2.2 per cent , respectively .
This was so contrary to everything that Reagan had been saying about affirmative action that the Labor Department hired an outside consulting firm to vet its @ @ @ @ @ @ @ with the news that the methods and the conclusions were valid , the Administration did the only thing it could do .
It refused to release the report , thus allowing politicians to go on telling the public that affirmative action didn ’ t work .
But it did .
And guess what ?
So did the War on Poverty .
In 1959 , the poverty rate was an estimated twenty-two per cent ; in 1975 , it was below twelve per cent , which is about where it is today .
( @ @ @ @ @ @ @ more than the population of Canada . )
The claim that government programs always backfire was Reagan ’ s campaign calling card—even though he did not eliminate a single major spending program during the eight years he was in office—and it has become one of the most dangerous canards in American politics .
Politicians repeat it , and people nod their heads .
Meanwhile , the rich get richer .
Did white men suffer as a result of affirmative action ?
That turns out to be a difficult question to answer .
“ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ prove that a minority hire almost always took place at the expense of a better-qualified white person , ” Urofsky says .
He also tells us that there are “ no reliable data ” on whether men were shut out of jobs that were offered to women .
“ Almost always ” would indeed be hard to prove .
Obviously , just by the nature of the policy , some significant number of whites and males who would have been admitted or hired before affirmative-action programs were in place were not .
But @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ever says , “ You were not hired because you ’ re white ” or “ You were admitted because you ’ re black , ” proving discrimination is complicated .
Americans have come to accept that race and gender are always in the mix , but we can ’ t be certain that either one made the difference in any particular case .
Urofsky ’ s view is that , over all , white men did not go without jobs or the chance to attend college .
Turned down by one place @ @ @ @ @ @ @ number who were “ victimized ” by affirmative action , he says , is “ minuscule.
” Certainly this is true in the case of college admissions .
Most colleges accept almost everyone who applies , so when we talk about race-conscious admissions we are talking about policies that affect a relatively small number of people .
Urofsky borrows from Thomas Kane , of the Brookings Institution , an analogy to handicapped parking spaces : a driver looking to park who does not have a permit might feel “ excluded ” driving past @ @ @ @ @ @ @ or she usually finds a place to park .
The main source of Urofsky ’ s frustration is the Supreme Court , which , he complains , has spent fifty years kicking around the constitutionality of race-conscious hiring and admissions practices without ever coming up with what he calls “ a workable jurisprudence.
” There is no Brown v. Board of Education or Roe v. Wade for affirmative action , no well-established precedent .
A lot of the cases that people rely on about university admissions are 5–4 decisions .
And some of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ that , insofar as affirmative action constitutes an exception to the equal-protection clause of the Fourteenth Amendment , it will eventually time out ( much as a majority of the Court recently decided , in Shelby v. Holder , that part of the Voting Rights Act has outlived our need for it ) .
The Court ’ s unpredictability in such cases not only distresses law professors like Urofsky .
It also creates uncertainty in the marketplace .
The judicial parameters are known : to pass constitutional muster , an affirmative-action program must @ @ @ @ @ @ @ must be narrowly tailored , and it must survive strict scrutiny .
But one can never be sure how the Court will apply these criteria , or whether it will one day decide that all affirmative-action programs are unconstitutional per se and close out the exception .
So groups that oppose racial preferences keep relitigating what is basically the same case , in the hope that a shift in the Court ’ s makeup will produce a definitive result .
The Court is effectively inviting these lawsuits .
The marketplace matters because the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the N.A.A.C.P .
and the Democratic National Committee .
The biggest defenders are corporations and the military .
Thousands of firms adopted affirmative-action programs after 1969 , when the Nixon Administration began insisting on diversity benchmarks for government contractors , and “ in little more than a decade , ” Urofsky says , “ affirmative action became a way of life for many large corporations.
” Once those programs were put into place , they remained .
The same thing happened with the 1964 Civil Rights Act .
The most controversial part of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ applies to public accommodations , like restaurants and hotels .
This struck at what was , along with suppression of African-American voting rights , one of the pillars of Jim Crow : social segregation .
In December , 1964 , five months after the Civil Rights Act was signed into law , the Supreme Court , in Heart of Atlanta Motel v. United States , upheld the constitutionality of Title II under the commerce clause .
All public accommodations that fell within the reach of Congress ’ s power were prohibited from discriminating @ @ @ @ @ @ @ business .
On the contrary .
From a business viewpoint , refusing to serve people who want to rent a room in your hotel or order a sandwich at your lunch counter is irrational .
The only economic incentive for denying them service is a fear of their driving white customers away .
Once the Court made it clear that every hotel and lunch counter must serve every customer regardless of race , that fear was significantly reduced .
Under Jimmy Carter , affirmative-action requirements were extended to virtually all firms , educational @ @ @ @ @ @ @ that received contracts or grants from the federal government—which covers a lot of the national waterfront .
By and large , the courts went along .
And so did businesses .
When a company is serving customers of different races , it wants to present a diversified face .
If you are selling cars to African-Americans , you do not want all the salesmen in your showroom to be white .
If , to achieve this result , a company diversifies on its own , it is open to lawsuits claiming reverse discrimination @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a police department or a fire department ) adopts a race-conscious hiring program under government guidance it is immunized .
When Reagan made noises about abolishing affirmative-action requirements , the National Association of Manufacturers lobbied him to leave the program alone .
It was helping manufacturing companies do what they could not have done without it .
The biggest problem businesses had wasn ’ t that they couldn ’ t find qualified women and minorities .
It was dealing with labor unions , whose seniority systems overwhelmingly favored white male workers .
( @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ) The extent of the corporate buy-in was put on dramatic display in 2003 , when the Supreme Court heard Grutter v. Bollinger , another admissions case , this one involving the University of Michigan Law School .
The Court received sixty-nine amicus briefs ( a lot ) arguing in favor of Michigan ’ s affirmative-action admissions program , and among the amici were General Motors , Dow Chemical , and Intel , along with the largest federation of unions in the United States , the A.F.L.-C.I.O .
They supported affirmative-action admissions because @ @ @ @ @ @ @ for a diversified workforce .
The Court also received , in Grutter , what became known as “ the military brief.
” This was an amicus brief signed by big-name generals like Norman Schwarzkopf , Wesley Clark , and John Shalikashvili ; by a former Defense Secretary , William Cohen ; and by former superintendents of the service academies , all of which , of course , are government agencies .
“ At present , ” they told the Court , “ the military can not achieve an officer corps that is both @ @ @ @ @ @ @ service academies and the ROTC use limited race-conscious recruiting and admissions policies.
” They were saying that if the Court ruled against Michigan it would be upending efforts , up to that point highly successful , to maintain a diverse officer corps .
The Court voted to uphold the Michigan program , but it was a 5–4 decision .
No sector is more committed to diversity than higher education is , but it has proved to be one of the stickiest areas for affirmative action , both legally and practically .
Urofsky , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ is more patient with the trouble that universities have had in achieving diversity than he is with the problems of labor unions , to which , in general , he is uncharitable .
It is true that probably the main reason Nixon promoted affirmative-action programs was to pit African-Americans against labor , both traditionally Democratic voting bases .
And , by many accounts , he succeeded , and created Archie Bunker—the Reagan Democrat , a man who resents special government help for minorities .
Still , the leadership of unions like the United @ @ @ @ @ @ @ own membership , were active in support of civil rights .
Higher education and unions have a similar problem when it comes to changing the demographics : we are dealing with a cake that can not be unbaked .
The undergraduate population turns over every four years , but the faculty turns over every forty years .
When the new students arrive on campus , they often wonder where the professors of color are .
The answer is : wait twenty years , and they will show up .
Even so , the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ their student bodies is striking .
As late as 1969 , less than five per cent of all professors had African or Asian ancestry , and around eighty per cent were men .
Schools like Harvard and Stanford have had trouble even getting to gender balance .
In 1976 , women made up 1.6 per cent of the arts and sciences faculty at Yale and one per cent at Princeton , although both schools had been admitting women for seven years .
Even at Berkeley , which had been admitting women since 1871 @ @ @ @ @ @ @ cent of the faculty .
Today , less than thirty per cent of all university faculty at Stanford are women , and seven per cent are classified as underrepresented minorities .
At Harvard , twenty-seven per cent of tenured faculty are women , and eight per cent are underrepresented minorities .
On the other hand , student bodies , where race- and gender-conscious admissions policies can have an effect more quickly , have diversified .
In 1976 , eighty-three per cent of university students were white ; in 2016 , fifty-seven per cent @ @ @ @ @ @ @ students in that period increased from ten to fourteen ; the percentage of students that the government categorizes as Hispanic increased from less than four to more than eighteen .
The percentage of black and Latinx graduates ( as opposed to enrollees ) also increased ( although graduation rates for both groups are lower than for whites ) .
Did affirmative-action admissions help ?
Starting in the mid-nineties , opponents of affirmative action were able to get laws passed prohibiting the use of race in admissions at public universities in several states , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
The top public universities in those states tried to attract minority students by other means , but Urofsky says that the percentage of black and Hispanic students has dropped significantly .
Do students admitted under affirmative-action criteria benefit from their educations ?
Historically , black students as a group have tended to underperform academically—to get lower grades than their SAT scores predict .
( So do varsity athletes . )
Nevertheless , William Bowen and Derek Bok showed , in “ The Shape of the River ” ( 1998 ) —the most @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to that point—that of seven hundred black students who entered twenty-eight selective schools under race-preferential criteria in 1976 , thirty-two per cent attained doctorates or professional degrees , as compared with thirty-seven per cent of white students .
Nearly a hundred and twenty-five of the black students were business executives , and more than three hundred were “ civic leaders ” ( running youth or community groups , for example ) .
Race-conscious admissions policies , Bowen and Bok concluded , have been “ highly successful ” in advancing educational and societal goals @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , when we are considering colleges and jobs , there is a pipeline problem .
That ’ s why , as Urofsky notes , the greatest beneficiaries of affirmative action have been white women .
They went to the same high schools that their brothers did ( and most of them probably got better grades ) .
That ’ s also why Barack Obama seemed to be focussed more on improving K-12 for minority children than on expanding access to post-secondary education .
The success of affirmative action in employment and university admissions @ @ @ @ @ @ @ gaps between whites and blacks .
Although the poverty rate for blacks and Hispanics has dropped some since 1970 , it is still more than double the rate for whites .
Americans of color are starting from much farther behind .
Millions never get on board a train that most whites were born on .
“ O.K.
, I may have had one bite.
” The Supreme Court case that admissions offices rely on today is Regents of the University of California v. Bakke .
It was decided in 1978 , and , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ it is still the law of the land .
Bakke is a good example of the jurisprudential confusion around affirmative action : the Court managed to produce six opinions in that case .
The plurality opinion , by Lewis Powell , struck down an admissions program at the University of California at Davis School of Medicine , from which Allan Bakke , a white man , had been twice rejected , but it upheld the right of schools to use race-conscious admissions programs .
The problem at Davis was that the medical school @ @ @ @ @ @ @ for everybody and one that effectively considered only minority applicants , for whom sixteen places were set aside .
Bakke was able to show that his record was superior to the records of some of the students who had been admitted through the special program .
The Davis program was obviously not narrowly tailored .
One consideration that the university offered in the way of compelling state interest was its belief that minority M.D.s might end up practicing in underserved communities .
Powell found no evidentiary basis for this , and it was @ @ @ @ @ @ @ could have investigated whether applicants had worked with underserved communities in the past .
They did not , and Powell suggested that such a standard might be a better proxy than race .
Another consideration Davis offered was the aim of “ countering the effects of societal discrimination.
” But Powell , though he allowed that specific race-conscious remedies could be justified by specific instances of discrimination , dismissed the general invocation of discrimination as “ an amorphous concept of injury that may be ageless in its reach into the past.
” Still @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of a diversified medical-school class was constitutionally permissible , and he played a trump card that is almost never mentioned in discussions of the case , including Urofsky ’ s .
Admissions programs determined by race are in violation of both the equal-protection clause of the Fourteenth Amendment and Title VI of the 1964 Civil Rights Act , which outlaws racial discrimination in institutions that receive federal funding .
Those rights were largely on Bakke ’ s side : you couldn ’ t discriminate against whites simply because nonwhites had once been discriminated @ @ @ @ @ @ @ that another right was in play : the First Amendment ; specifically , the right of academic freedom .
There is no constitutional right of academic freedom , but Powell cited a 1957 case , Sweezy v. New Hampshire , in which Felix Frankfurter , in a concurring opinion , quoted South African jurists to the effect that the principle of academic freedom allows a university to determine who will teach its classes and who will sit in its classrooms .
Powell concluded that , since Davis could reasonably decide that a diverse @ @ @ @ @ @ @ considerations of an applicant ’ s race—as one factor among others—can fall within the exercise of a constitutionally protected right .
( Under the Court ’ s ruling , Bakke was admitted to Davis and he became a doctor ; Urofsky says that he went on to work at the Mayo Clinic , where one of his patients was Lewis Powell . )
The Michigan case , Grutter v. Bollinger , in 2003 , was basically a relitigation of Bakke .
As was Fisher v. Texas , in 2013 , and the second @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Fisher II , in 2016 .
The Fisher cases involved a white woman who was turned down for admission to the University of Texas at Austin , U.T.
’ s flagship campus .
Her lawyers argued that , even if she were rejected solely because of her grades and not her race , she could still claim a “ Constitutional injury ” from being subjected to an unfair admissions process .
Each time , the Court upheld the constitutionality of using race as a factor in admissions , but they were close calls @ @ @ @ @ @ @ 4–3 .
The current Harvard College admissions case , Students for Fair Admission v. Harvard , is the same case one more time .
The person behind both Fisher and the Harvard case is Edward Blum , a man who for whatever reason has decided to devote his time to preventing a small number of black and brown teen-agers from attending colleges that are desperate to have them .
Harvard won at the trial level because the judge ruled that its admissions program is consistent with other Supreme Court decisions , such as @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , since Powell ’ s decision cited the Harvard admissions program as a model .
But , given the composition of the Supreme Court , it is all too likely that it will decide that the country has timed out of this particular form of remediation .
For remediation is fundamentally what affirmative action is .
Affirmative action has expanded to cover many kinds of difference , and , since Bakke , to be thought of as in service to a general social commitment to diversity per se—so that now people say things @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ?
, ” as though that somehow presented the same moral demand as a commitment to racial diversity .
But the reason we have affirmative action is that we once had slavery and Jim Crow and redlining and racial covenants , and that we once had all-white police forces and all-white union locals and all-white college campuses and all-white law firms .
To paraphrase George Shultz , Nixon ’ s Secretary of Labor : for hundreds of years , the United States had a racial quota .
It was zero .
Affirmative action @ @ @ @ @ @ @ done to black people .
The Fourteenth Amendment protects white people , too , but that is not why it needed to be written .
The Court ’ s decision in Shelby v. Holder vacating a central provision of the Voting Rights Act has backfired .
It turns out that , when you remove enforcement mechanisms and remedial oversight , things tend to revert to the status quo ante .
The whole history of affirmative action shows , as Urofsky somewhat reluctantly admits , that when the programs are shut down minority representation @ @ @ @ @ @ @ it , is politically constructed and politically maintained .
It doesn ’ t just happen .
It ’ s a choice we make as a society .
It is possible to understand the opposition to affirmative action of white conservatives , like Ronald Reagan , who regard civil-rights laws as federal overreach and affirmative action as enshrining the un-American notion of group rights .
And it is possible to understand the opposition of black conservatives , like Clarence Thomas , who see it as patronizing to African-Americans .
But it is hard to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of many white liberals that has persisted since the nineteen-seventies .
Did these people really imagine that passing a law against discrimination would reset race relations overnight ?
Do they really think that white Americans , wherever they work or go to college , do not carry a lifelong advantage because of the color of their skin ?
Do they really believe that there should be no sacrifice to make or price to pay for the systematic damage done to the lives of millions of American citizens and the men and women who @ @ @ @ @

The terrible paradox of the civil-rights movement is that outlawing racial discrimination made it harder to remediate its effects. Once we amended the Constitution and passed laws to protect people of color from being treated differently in ways that were harmful to them, the government had trouble enacting programs that treat people of color differently in ways that might be beneficial. We took race out of the equation only to realize that, if we truly wanted not just equality of opportunity for all Americans but equality of result, we needed to put it back in. Our name for this paradox is affirmative action.
The term was introduced to the Kennedy Administration almost sixty years ago, and its arrival was somewhat haphazard. According to Nicholas Lemann’s history of meritocracy, “The Big Test,” the man who suggested it was an African-American lawyer named Hobart Taylor, Jr. He was a Texan, and when John F. Kennedy was sworn in, in 1961, he dropped in on the inaugural ball for Texans in order to shake hands with the new Vice-President, Lyndon B. Johnson.
They chatted, and Johnson asked him to come by his office. When Taylor showed up, Johnson handed him a draft of what would become Executive Order 10925, setting up the President’s Committee on Equal Employment Opportunity, which Johnson was to chair. Taylor read the draft and said he thought it could use a little work; Johnson asked him to do a rewrite. And that is when Taylor inserted the words “affirmative action.” He liked the phrase, he later said, because of the alliteration (or the assonance).
Taylor needed a flexible phrase because Kennedy’s committee was a bureaucratic entity with a vague mandate meant to signal the Administration’s commitment to fairness in employment. Its purview, like the purview of committees dating back to the Administration of Franklin Roosevelt, was the awarding of federal contracts, and its mandate was to see that companies the federal government did business with did not discriminate on the basis of race. The committee had no real enforcement mechanism, though, so “affirmative action” was intended to communicate to firms that needed to integrate their workforce something like “Don’t just stand there. Do something.” What they were supposed to do, aside from not discriminating, was unspecified.
“Do something” is still one of the meanings of “affirmative action” today. Many firms and educational institutions have affirmative-action or diversity officers. Their job is to insure not only that hiring and promotion are handled in a color-blind manner but that good-faith efforts are made to include racial minorities (and sometimes individuals in other categories, such as women or veterans or disabled persons) in the hiring pool, and, if they are qualified, to attempt to recruit them. In this context, “affirmative” means: demonstrate that you did your best to find and promote members of underrepresented groups. You do not have to give them preferential treatment.
Since the late nineteen-sixties, however, affirmative action has also had a more proactive meaning, as the name of an effort to attain a certain number, or, as it’s called today, “critical mass,” of underrepresented groups in a business or an educational institution by, if necessary, giving applicants from those groups preference over similarly or better qualified whites. This form of affirmative action is usually branded by those who disapprove of it with the dreaded Q-word, “quota.” After 1978, when the Supreme Court declared racial quotas unconstitutional, affirmative-action programs avoided any suggestion of the Q-word. But that is essentially what affirmative action in this second sense entails. You can use terms like “targets” and “goals,” both of which are constitutionally legit, but if you have an idea of the point at which you would attain a critical mass then you have a quota.
Apart from stone-cold racists, everyone is happy, or claims to be happy, with affirmative action in the first sense. And many people are happy, or will say they are, with affirmative action in the second sense so far as the outcome is concerned. Legally, we want the system to be color-blind; we want everyone to have the same rights. But socially we understand that people don’t want their racial or gender identities to be ignored. They want them to be recognized and respected. People take a civic pride in having a racially diverse workplace or educational institution. It’s just that many would rather not contemplate too closely the means used to achieve it.
Of the people who like racial diversity but don’t like affirmative action in the preferential sense, there are two types. One type believes that we can ban all forms of preferential treatment and, so long as we enforce existing laws against discrimination, still achieve equality of result. These people see affirmative action as unfairly penalizing those who are not biased themselves and who have enjoyed no personal benefit from discrimination, and they see it as stigmatizing members of underrepresented groups with the suspicion that they are underqualified for the jobs they hold or the school they attend.
The other type of affirmative-action skeptic is the person who knows that this is wishful thinking but is unable to get his or her head around the idea that the way to end discrimination is by discriminating. The law professor Melvin Urofsky, in “The Affirmative Action Puzzle” (Pantheon), says he is agnostic on the issue, but he would seem to be a person of the second type. He wants racial diversity, and he knows that it is not going to come about on its own very soon, but he thinks that specific goals or targets are at odds with the rights of individuals. That’s why he calls it a puzzle.
The history of affirmative action is woven into the history of American race relations, and the history of American race relations is woven into the history of America. It is the eternal bone in the national throat. So when Urofsky takes us through the history of affirmative action—he starts with Reconstruction, but the story really begins in the nineteen-sixties—he is giving us what amounts to a history of the country from John F. Kennedy to Donald Trump.
You see the decades go past as you read, and the special flavor of each Presidency comes back: Kennedy’s uncomfortable recognition that civil rights was a moral issue that transcended his customary political pragmatism, Johnson’s miraculous emergence as the Moses of racial equality, Nixon’s inveterate scheming, Reagan’s bland duplicity, Obama’s undramatic realism. Then we get to Trump, who, Urofsky points out, “is the first Republican since the civil rights revolution to reach the White House without campaigning against affirmative action.” Urofsky doesn’t say so, but one reason Trump ignored the issue is probably that politicians who oppose affirmative action normally do so in the name of color blindness, and Trump is not color-blind. (Alternative-facts explanation: Donald Trump is the least racist person you have ever met.)
There is a whole library on racial inequality and efforts to address it, and “The Affirmative Action Puzzle” does not offer many novelties. But the book, just by the accumulation of sixty years’ worth of evidence, allows us to reach some useful conclusions, and the most important of these is that affirmative action worked. The federal government, with the backing of the courts, weaponized the 1964 Civil Rights Act and its legislative progeny—notably the Education Amendments of 1972, home to the notorious (in the R.B.G. sense) Title IX, banning sex discrimination in federally assisted educational institutions—and forced businesses to hire women and racial minorities.
Cartoon by Lila Ash Copy link to cartoon Copy link to cartoon Shop Shop
And they did. Study after study suggests that it is just not the case that “it would have happened anyway.” In 1981, for example, as Urofsky tells us, the Reagan Labor Department commissioned a report on gains in hiring among African-Americans and women. It found that between 1974 and 1980 the rate of minority employment in businesses that contracted with the federal government, and were therefore susceptible to being squeezed, rose by twenty per cent, and the rate of employment of women rose by 15.2 per cent. In companies that did not contract with the government, the rates were twelve per cent and 2.2 per cent, respectively.


newyorker--2020-01-13--“Visitor,” by Bryan Washington

“Visitor,” by Bryan Washington

He knocked on my door about a month after the funeral .
I almost didn ’ t answer , since I wasn ’ t expecting my fuck buddy .
It was entirely too late for anyone to be visiting , but the man in front of me said that he ’ d been a friend of my father ’ s—and I slipped on the face I wore for those people .
It was three or four in the morning .
He ’ d caught a late flight from Kingston to Houston .
Then the man said something else , in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to repeat it .
His lover , this guy said , rubbing both of his elbows .
I made a new kind of face .
Except it couldn ’ t have been a new kind of face .
We only get so many .
No , I said , and then I laughed .
The man asked to come in .
He set his duffel on the carpet , and his jacket beside it , and the doorway was crammed , so we stood , and that ’ s when I got a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Asian .
Short hair , messy and curly , sloped just below the nape of his neck .
His boots were too large .
His track pants were too tight .
He told me that he ’ d never flown in a plane before .
The motor , he said , pantomiming the way the engine turned .
He made a circle with his finger , slowly , and then not very slowly at all .
A few hours later , I found him in the living room , sleeping on the rug @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a bed on the sofa , out of some hoodies and a quilt my mom had given me .
But I guess it hadn ’ t worked out .
He ’ d folded everything up and placed it on the coffee table .
No .
You got a free night out of me .
So tell me who you really are .
I told you , the man said .
That ’ s when my visitor sat up , cocking his head at me .
He scratched it , mussing his hair even @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , he said .
But you do .
Completely uncanny , the man said , still scratching , yawning , shaking his ass a little bit .
He stood , arching his back , leaning one way and then the other .
We were about the same height .
But you ’ re chubbier , the man said .
It ’ s true , he said .
Your father could never hold any weight .
The man sat and crossed his legs , slumping with an elbow on the sofa cushion .
When @ @ @ @ @ @ @ myself , biting my gums , but I couldn ’ t help it—I yawned , too .
The man didn ’ t want me to take him to breakfast , but I ’ d stopped keeping groceries in the apartment .
Everything always rotted .
I drove him to this Jewish deli a few blocks up the road .
I ’ d been living in Bellaire for the past while , just west of the city proper , where it ’ s all Vietnamese coffee shops and Chinese markets and Venezuelan grocery stores @ @ @ @ @ @ @ every corner .
No one looks like anyone else , until you drive twenty minutes east , toward midtown , and then everyone ’ s white .
My visitor set his ear on the window , and I thought he ’ d fallen asleep , until he burped and settled his elbows on the dashboard .
At the deli , he ordered one thing from the top of the menu , tentatively , scanning my face .
Then he ordered a bagel and some eggs and some potatoes and three biscuits with grits @ @ @ @ @ @ @ lox .
Our waiter—some whiteboy—made a funny face and looked from my visitor to me .
He wore the same face as he brought our food to the table , juggling three plates with his elbows .
Sorry , my visitor said , when he came up for air .
Haven ’ t eaten .
You don ’ t have to lie , I said .
You don ’ t have to lie , the man said , grinning , in a voice four octaves higher .
Our waiter stopped by the table @ @ @ @ @ @ @ there was a problem , and he shook his head and stepped away .
So you ’ re from Jamaica , I said .
That ’ s what I told you , the man said .
I opened my mouth , and then I closed it .
My visitor tugged on his ear .
I know what ’ s in your head , he said .
Plenty of Chinese all over the island .
Everywhere .
Even if you didn ’ t know that .
I didn ’ t say there weren ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ s exactly what I ’ d been thinking .
And then : Your father and I were just kids , he said .
Lasted five years , on and off .
One , two , five .
And then you stopped ?
Stopped ?
In Jamaica ?
Of course we stopped .
Did you stay in contact ?
Ai-yah , the man said .
How would we do that ?
We stopped .
Do they have orange juice ?
Your father swore , too , the man said .
Stop that .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ He worked in my mother ’ s shop , the man said .
At least in the beginning .
Short walk from the schoolhouse .
And then what ?
You just hooked up ?
Never mind , I said .
What did y ’ all do together ?
How did you two even know ?
You know what .
This prompted a smile from the man , between mouthfuls of eggs and jelly and bagel .
He slid the plate toward me .
I tore off a corner of a biscuit .
We @ @ @ @ @ @ @ was obvious .
At least to us .
Happened how it always happens and then it ended .
I watched this man eat .
I tried to think of him with my father .
I ’ d only thought of my dad in the context of my mother , whenever I thought of him at all .
His death had felt abrupt—he ’ d got sick with a brand of illness no one comes back from—and none of our relatives had said much to me , about anything at all , in the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ planes of reality .
But they ’ d shown out at the funeral .
They ’ d handled all the arrangements .
If anything , it seemed like another attempt to push me aside .
Why are you here , I said , and the man looked up .
He grinned again , widely .
When he tugged at a napkin from across the table , nearly tipping over the holder , I passed him one of mine .
To meet you , he said .
You ’ re his son !
He @ @ @ @ @ @ @ my father was born in Jamaica .
I knew that he ’ d lived on the coast .
I knew that he ’ d left the island in his twenties .
I knew that he ’ d met my mother in Toronto , and that they ’ d moved to New York , and then to Tampa , before tumbling over to Houston .
I knew that my father didn ’ t argue , he just made decisions .
I knew that , when I was a kid , sometimes my mom would @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of the evening , and we ’ d go for walks around our suburb , leaving my father to himself .
I knew that my father played soccer .
I knew that he wasn ’ t very good at it .
I knew that the day I came out to him , after my mom died , he flipped over the kitchen table , and then a coffee table , and also the dresser sitting under the television .
I knew that I slept in the park a few blocks away that night @ @ @ @ @ @ @ me in his pickup , and that when I woke up he was sleeping right next to me , hands tucked under his armpits .
I knew that we drove up the road for kolaches the next morning .
I knew that we chewed them , sitting across from each other , silent in the diner while high-school girls laughed and poked at their phones behind us .
I knew that my father and I didn ’ t talk much after that .
I knew that , some days when I was a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ me to him , shaking her head , smiling .
But I also knew that I couldn ’ t discount my visitor ’ s statements outright .
He ’ d nailed his dates .
His geography checked out .
Everything was just true enough that I couldn ’ t call bullshit .
My visitor had no itinerary beyond seeing my father ’ s tombstone .
His return flight wasn ’ t for another five days .
He had , apparently , booked the wrong morning to fly back to Jamaica .
Should ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ said .
Slip of the hand .
What if I ’ d been out of town ?
What if I ’ d told you to fuck off ?
At least not yet , I said .
You won ’ t , the man said .
Everything worked out .
That anyone could be this trusting seemed absurd to me , but my visitor was absurdity incarnate : sometimes , mid-speech , he ’ d drift off and he wouldn ’ t come back .
He fingered the posters—maps of places I ’ ll @ @ @ @ @ @ @ touched all the cups .
He napped , and talked in his sleep , and then he woke up in conversation with himself , cheesing at the punch line .
When my visitor fell asleep , I slipped over to the fuck buddy ’ s apartment .
His name was Joel .
He stopped me at the door with one kiss , and then another .
Before I could say the thing that I came over to tell him , we were on his sofa , out of our hoodies , nearly out @ @ @ @ @ @ @ said .
I ’ ve got this guy staying with me .
This was enough for Joel to look up from what he was doing .
His face made something like a smirk .
His living room wasn ’ t large , but it was warm , and from the center of it I could smell whatever he ’ d cooked for dinner—some kind of fish soup , probably , seasoned heavily enough to linger for days .
Initially , I couldn ’ t stand that smell .
Now I daydreamed about it @ @ @ @ @ @ @ anything official , he said .
Are you at least being safe , Joel asked .
It ’ s nothing like that , I said .
Not a sex thing .
So it ’ s just an everyday living-with-you-rent-free-with-no-sex thing .
He ’ s a friend of my father ’ s .
Maybe more than a friend .
Joel leaned back on the sofa , crossing his arms .
He was round , like me .
When my father died , he was the first person I told .
Joel grew up in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and he came from money , through his parents ’ restaurant on Mason Road , until that restaurant caught on fire one night and both his parents died in it and Joel had to move in with his sister .
The money went away .
Now he was a barista .
We ’ d met at a Starbucks , after he fucked up my name .
Among other things , Joel was extremely hard to shock .
He said , Did your mystery man say why he ’ s showing up now ?
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ Maybe , Joel asked , or no ?
He wants to get to know me , I think .
And how ’ s that going ?
You won ’ t let me , Joel said , brushing mine .
Just think about it , he added .
If he isn ’ t lying , then this man came back from the dead , too .
I ’ d hardly call it that .
He came up from Jamaica , right ?
Where your dad ’ s from ?
Was from , I said @ @ @ @ @ @ @ this dude basically split the universe .
Because it is .
You should hear him out .
In your own way , I ’ m sure .
Before I could say anything to that , Joel set his head on my chest , hanging halfway off the sofa .
Folded his arms into the creases of mine , and just lay there .
And I shivered , just a bit , but I didn ’ t get up or anything , and I shut my eyes , and it wasn ’ t entirely @ @ @ @ @ @ @ visitor asked me where I went when I left the apartment .
I sat cross-legged on the sofa in sweatpants , watching him watch me inhale a bag of shrimp chips .
I ’ d made it back home maybe thirty minutes earlier .
Work , I said .
Where else ?
Boss man , my visitor said .
You have a degree ?
Do I look like I have a degree ?
Funny guy .
How would I know what that looks like ?
I went to community college for a while @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
It didn ’ t work out .
It didn ’ t work out , I said , and the man placed a hand on his chest , and began to hiccup .
What does that mean , he said .
You have anything else to eat here ?
No , I said .
And it means that it didn ’ t work out .
Why the fuck do you care ?
I ’ m just trying to figure you out , my visitor said , shrugging and smiling .
I work and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ all you need to know .
There ’ s more to life , the man said , and he reached for my chips .
Before I could lift the bag , he ’ d grabbed four , five , six , dropping crumbs all over the carpet .
The next day , I told Funke , one of my co-workers at the gas station , about my visitor .
We were stacking columns of gum on a shelf , or I was stacking them while she stood beside me , texting .
The @ @ @ @ @ @ @ rearranging everything in the drawers .
Whenever I left the apartment , he ’ d stare at my face beforehand , squinting , while I tied my shoes .
A layer of fuzz had made its way around his chin .
Bring back some food , he ’ d said that morning .
You hear ?
Excuse me ?
I said .
Who the fuck are you talking to ?
Fresh food , my visitor said .
Something from the earth .
Natural .
When I told Funke all this , she made @ @ @ @ @ @ @ problem , she said .
You don ’ t believe him ?
I don ’ t know .
It ’ s not like I can ask anyone in my family about this .
They wouldn ’ t fucking know .
Does he have any reason to lie ?
Not really .
Can you hold these ?
Wait a minute , Funke said .
I ’ m talking with my son .
Don ’ t worry about him .
I already tried introducing you .
Tell me more about your dead daddy ’ s @ @ @ @ @ @ @ for you to say that shit .
Wrong , Funke said .
Time moves whether we want it to or not .
Fine , I said .
This guy knows too much .
I guess it ’ s possible that he ’ s not bullshitting .
Stupid , Funke said .
Of course it ’ s possible .
We all live many lives .
She glanced up from her phone while I juggled some Trident .
She started to hand me the boxes I ’ d dropped , and then she dropped them @ @ @ @ @ @ @ thing , Funke said .
You don ’ t have to know .
Knowing is a privilege , she said .
The best we can do is brace ourselves .
My visitor stood over my stove with the groceries I ’ d bought from the H Mart down the road .
He sautéed bell peppers , lightly fried a slab of mackerel , stirred garlic in a pot I ’ d never seen before .
He poured the marinade of garlic and peppers over the fish , dousing everything with red pepper , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to a bright-blue plate , beside stir-fried spinach and rice .
We ate on the floor , picking at everything with plastic forks .
I watched my visitor stuff his face , while buried in one of my oversized flannel shirts .
Your father hated reggae , the man said .
He only ever listened to Bob Dylan .
Your father couldn ’ t cook a lick , the man said .
But he loved to eat .
Bullshit , I said .
Everyone has a favorite color .
Everyone but your father @ @ @ @ @ @ @ hated purple .
My family flew to Jamaica only once .
I was eight , I think , and I spent most of the trip holding my stomach .
Everything was too hot for me .
Everything tasted too wild .
Too fresh .
Eventually , my mother and I settled into a circuit between our hotel and a McDonald ’ s , while my father disappeared for hours at a time , meeting us in the lobby after the sun set .
I sat with my mom by the concierge .
She @ @ @ @ @ @ @ my head in her lap .
Once , I asked her where my father went .
She looked at me , and closed her book .
After enough time had passed that I ’ d forgotten the question , she said , Home .
And he can ’ t take us with him ?
There ’ s nothing for you to see there .
But I want to see him .
I know , my mom said .
But his family does , too .
Why can ’ t they come here ?
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ s coming back , she said , rubbing my stomach , and then my neck .
He ’ s gone , my mom said , but he ’ ll be back .
And she was right .
When my father came back to the hotel , he beamed .
That smile didn ’ t dim until we ’ d been back in the States for a couple of months , and then it went out entirely .
I never really saw it again .
My visitor wanted to see things .
Everything @ @ @ @ @ @ @ The things he liked .
You ’ re his son .
If you don ’ t know , then who does ?
So we drove to the Menil .
We drove to Buc-ee ’ s .
We walked through the Rothko Chapel .
We drove to the Children ’ s Museum .
We drove up and down Chinatown .
We drove to a fish fry on Scott Street , where my visitor got an upset stomach , and I called him a little bitch , until my stomach imploded , too .
We @ @ @ @ @ @ @ shop in Montrose , and watched the young men in high heels and trenchcoats order almond lattes .
When I asked my visitor if he wanted to see NASA , his eyes lit up , but he declined .
I ’ d have a heart attack , he said .
I ’ d join your father .
No , he said .
You ’ re right .
Everyone dies .
We all go .
I ’ m sorry , my visitor said .
But by then I was cracking up , too .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ the world together : I could count the number of times , in two years , on two hands .
Once to the CVS behind his place , for lube .
Another time to wash his car .
A third time for sesame seeds at H-E-B .
Once again to the Thai Spice , down the road .
Mostly , we were in his apartment : eating or fucking or lying around .
I told him about my customers at the gas station , piss drunk or courteous or stoned beyond all recall @ @ @ @ @ @ @ customers , inconsolable before caffeine and approachable afterward .
Sometimes we watched horror movies .
We never finished any of them .
Neither of us ever really questioned our routine .
Also : Joel collected facts .
Impractical shit that neither of us could use .
When I asked him why , Joel blinked and said , Because facts are things that can not be changed .
Facts can ’ t be taken away .
So when , one night , he asked if I ’ d like to go for a walk @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
We don ’ t have to , he added .
No , I said .
But why not ?
So we slipped on our sneakers and walked .
As we rounded the corner of his complex , Joel asked if I knew that less than ten per cent of the world ’ s plastics were actually recycled .
We passed the grocery store by the taquería , and Joel asked if I knew that in 1960 every state in America had antisodomy laws .
We rounded the corner of Walgreens , where @ @ @ @ @ @ @ in all vertebrate mammals .
We jogged across Bellaire Boulevard , and I nearly lost a shoe , and Joel asked if I knew that there are only two distinct seasons in the Philippines .
We turned in to an elementary school ’ s playground , tightroping the length of a sandbox , and I learned that the ring-of-fire eclipse is a semi-regular phenomenon , in which Earth ’ s moon blots out everything but the barest silhouette of the sun .
But mostly we walked in silence .
There wasn ’ t @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , and sometimes I led .
When I took too long to round a corner , Joel stopped ; whenever he lingered , I turned around to check on him .
Then he ’ d nod , and I ’ d nod , and we ’ d start again .
Whenever the sun set , my visitor asked more questions about my life .
I had nothing to tell him .
I ’ d brought some food home from this fusion Caribbean spot by NRG Stadium , and he picked at the beef @ @ @ @ @ @ @ plantains from his rice .
This is how they packed it , the man said .
You don ’ t like it , I said .
Well , the man said .
Our food is hard to cook .
For the first time , the man gave me a look , a bemused sort of thing , the look you ’ d give a certain kind of shithead kid .
If I ’ d blinked , I would ’ ve missed it .
I ’ m just saying I wouldn ’ t know @ @ @ @ @ @ @ know better than anyone else , the man said .
Your father loved to cook .
You said he sucked at cooking .
Doesn ’ t mean he didn ’ t love it .
But I want to hear more about you .
Fine , I said .
I work at this gas station .
I played football until I fucked up my back .
I ’ m fucking broke .
You work at a store !
Like your father .
Got sick when I was a kid .
She ’ s my @ @ @ @ @ @ @ She is your mother .
I always thought he ’ d end up with someone beautiful .
And what about you , I said .
What ’ s your deal ?
Eh , the man said , and then he didn ’ t say anything else .
He picked a little more at his plate , scooping his peas into piles .
You have anything to drink here , he said .
Any beer ?
A Jamaican with no beer .
Glad I lived long enough to see it .
Half , I @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Is , the man said .
And it ’ s all or nothing .
I don ’ t think that ’ s true , I said .
And you ’ re changing the subject .
There isn ’ t much to tell , my visitor said .
I live on the island .
I fish for the market .
You really don ’ t have any Red Stripe ?
I really don ’ t have any Red Stripe .
Huh , the man said .
And no girlfriend , either ?
At this @ @ @ @ @ @ @ I still don ’ t know whether or not he was feigning it .
And your father ?
he said .
He knew about this , yes ?
He did , I said .
That ’ s one way of putting it .
This made my visitor very quiet .
He stood up , and walked into the kitchen .
I heard rustling , and then silence , and then more rustling .
In all fairness , my visitor was probably only the third person I ’ d told whom I wasn ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Funke , who ’ d clocked me on sight .
What no one tells you is that sometimes , even if you ’ ve figured yourself out , you ’ ll have no one around you to share what you ’ ve found .
When my visitor came back to the living room , twenty minutes later , I was face down on a pillow .
He sat across from me and put a bowl on the coffee table between us : fried dumplings and avocado slices .
He leaned over , wrapping @ @ @ @ @ @ @ s O.K.
, he said .
Relax .
You don ’ t have to do that .
I have to do this .
You don ’ t , I said , but I didn ’ t move , didn ’ t nudge my way out of his arms .
Eventually , my visitor untangled his arms from my body .
He motioned toward the food .
Real food , he said .
Get it before it gets cold .
My father ’ s death was quick .
My mother ’ s was quicker @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Tuesday .
We took her to the hospital on a Thursday .
She fell into a coma that Saturday , and she was gone four days later .
I was almost fifteen .
The last interaction we had was me tugging at the end of her hospital sheets , and her laughing under her breath , covering her mouth .
I don ’ t know why this was hilarious , but it was .
So we kept doing it .
Eventually , my father walked in , and we tried to keep it @ @ @ @ @ @ @ get the joke , and of course we couldn ’ t explain it .
So we stopped .
When I told Joel about this , he sneezed into his elbow .
We were eating shabu-shabu at his apartment , in our boxers , and the steam fogged the air between us .
Joel said he knew about the laughter .
He ’ d shared it with his sister .
Sometimes , he said , we ’ d go on for minutes at a time .
I don ’ t think either of us @ @ @ @ @ @ @ you ever talk about it ?
I asked .
Never , Joel said .
We just laughed .
Eventually , I told Funke about the dumplings .
She gave me a long look , turning away from her phone .
I could ask you the same thing , she said .
It ’ s starting to sound like you ’ re taking advantage of this guy .
He ’ s living with me !
For free !
Funke crossed her arms and leaned against the register .
A grieving man flies into your @ @ @ @ @ @ @ she said .
He just found out his lover ’ s died .
He ’ s also just found out that the man had a son .
How do you think he ’ s feeling ?
Have you even thought about that ?
Have you even thought about it ?
O.K.
, I said .
You ’ re not even supposed to be on the register .
Don ’ t be mad that I ’ m right , Funke said , turning back to her phone .
It doesn ’ t even matter @ @ @ @ @ @ @ leaving in a few days .
It won ’ t hurt you to give a shit about someone else for two minutes , Funke said .
But whatever , she said , and smiled .
I guess gay men are still men .
That night , my visitor and I sat in the living room .
Out of coffee mugs , we drank the Red Stripe I ’ d picked up .
I ’ d fried some tortillas alongside eggs and tomatoes—the outer limit of my cooking abilities—and my visitor scarfed two at @ @ @ @ @ @ @ drenching the paper plates in Cholula .
You should take compliments as they come .
It ’ ll clear up your skin .
Then I said , Tell me something about him .
My visitor grinned .
And then he frowned .
For the first time since we ’ d met , his cheeks turned entirely solemn .
Your father never combed his hair , he said .
Your father had the softest skin .
Your father hated his brothers , but he loved his sister .
He couldn ’ t dribble a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to school , but he never missed a day of it .
He crossed his eyes when he whistled .
He couldn ’ t stomach allspice , but he cooked with a heavy hand .
He taught me how to swim .
My dad hated the water , I said .
Correct , the man said .
And he still taught me .
I asked him to do that and he did .
At that , my visitor turned silent .
We both chewed , with our legs crossed .
I asked what @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , the man said .
So you ’ re a sober philosopher , the man said .
I mean that it ’ s nothing to you , I said .
Then I asked the man , Were you there when he left Jamaica ?
My visitor looked up at me .
He looked away .
No , he said .
I told your father not to tell me .
Because that was easier .
What could I have done ?
And I thought about that .
What could he have done ?
Two @ @ @ @ @ @ @ shouldn ’ t be meeting at all .
They feel things that they shouldn ’ t be feeling at all .
They do what they can .
One of them leaves .
And then he dies .
What could he have done ?
Later that night , at his place , Joel asked me what we were doing .
We stood barefoot in his kitchen , hunched over his counter , kneading dough .
Immediately after fucking , I ’ d mentioned , offhand , that something sweet wouldn ’ t be a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ over to the pantry .
Now he patted and stirred while I massaged .
We dropped globs of sugary dough into the fryer beside us .
I think , Joel said , that we ’ re doing more than that .
And I think that you know it .
And I think that we should talk about that .
When Joel went silent , I looked up .
The sizzling beside us was all I could hear .
I feel pretty good about you , he said , sighing .
All things considered @ @ @ @ @ @ @ know if you feel the same .
It would mean a lot to me to know that .
But what if I don ’ t feel what you feel , I asked .
Then nothing changes , Joel said .
Except that I ’ d know .
O.K.
, I said , and what if I do ?
Then I don ’ t know , Joel said .
But you have to say it .
I can ’ t know unless you tell me .
Neither of us said anything to that , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ smoking .
We lifted three sweet pancakes from the pan to a bowl , and Joel immediately tossed one into his mouth—but not before tearing off a piece for me .
It burned me .
It was delicious .
We both reached for another .
The night before my visitor flew back to Kingston , I drove him to see my father ’ s tombstone .
I smoked by some vending machines instead of wandering the graves beside him , because I ’ d spent too much time there already .
I ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Afterward , we sat at Fu Fu Café , a Chinese diner twenty minutes from my apartment .
The evening bled through the windows .
We settled into chairs at the one empty table .
I was friendly with one of the waiters , and he smiled my way , then he said something to my visitor in Mandarin , and my visitor only shook his head , cheesing .
Our waiter looked at me .
I shrugged .
He shrugged right back .
A few minutes later , a spread of chicken @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of us .
Who was General Tso really , my visitor said .
This is what you want to talk about , I said .
Of all the fucking things .
I refuse to believe something so delicious could be the work of a war man .
All Jamaicans are poets , my visitor said .
He sipped at a beer , and rubbed his cheeks .
In between bites , he looked up and smiled my way .
You should find a boyfriend , he said .
Someone steady .
Thank you @ @ @ @ @ @ @ true .
I know this .
There ’ s some nice boy walking around Houston , with untied shoelaces , waiting to make you happy .
Calm down , I said .
And I ’ m seeing someone .
This made my visitor stand , shaking the table .
Can you stop that ?
You should ’ ve told me !
You didn ’ t tell me !
What ’ s his name ?
I ’ ll tell you if you sit down , I said .
The man settled into his seat @ @ @ @ @ @ @ his chin in a palm .
But it probably doesn ’ t matter , I said .
I don ’ t even know if it ’ ll work .
Don ’ t take too long to figure it out , the man said .
You wouldn ’ t know .
I ’ m not exactly on top of the sexual pyramid .
Now you ’ re making assumptions about me , my visitor said , smiling .
We looked at the tables beside us—Korean couples and Mexican families and some Nigerian nurses enjoying @ @ @ @ @ @ @ think you could be more kind to yourself , the man said .
And I think you should give this boy a chance .
Give yourselves a chance to be happy .
And how exactly would I do that , I said .
Oh , the man said .
That ’ s easy .
You don ’ t have to do much .
A little attention goes a long way .
A little bit of food .
A fuck from time to time .
This dinner isn ’ t going to end with @ @ @ @ @ @ @ myself , I said .
Life isn ’ t like that .
Sure , my visitor said .
But it ’ s not so hard to understand , either .
You get it , though .
I do .
Your father did , too .
I opened my mouth , but then I closed it .
I figured I ’ d let him have that .
And my visitor gave me another one of his long looks , scratching at the hair on his cheeks , chewing his lip .
He looked a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
A little like he was glowing .
I wondered if I did , too .
And then my visitor said , Your father told me we ’ d see each other before we died .
That was the promise .
The thing on both of our minds hung above us , swaying below the lights .
He did , the man said .
If that ’ s what you ’ re thinking .
When I made a face , my visitor shook his head .
Your father held his end of the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ he didn ’ t come back to the island .
And this made the man smile .
He took my hand in his .
You don ’ t understand , he said .
And that ’ s O.K .
I don ’ t expect you to understand .
When our waiter returned , my visitor said something to him , something I couldn ’ t catch .
The two of them laughed , rocking the entire table .
A few weeks before my dad ’ s funeral , I ’ d visited him @ @ @ @ @ @ @ didn ’ t see each other often .
There was always a reason to avoid it .
After my mom died , he ’ d mostly lived by himself .
He ’ d entertain a girlfriend from time to time , but no one ever stuck around , and I wondered whether they grew tired of him , or he grew tired of them , or if the relationships were constructed from the start to fizzle out like matches .
He answered the door with sleep on his face .
I had to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ me over to help with some insurance paperwork .
It took him a second , but then he nodded , waving me in and wiping his face .
There was luggage in the hallway , but I didn ’ t ask him about it .
I didn ’ t want him asking me about my life , either .
He clicked through channels while I typed at his computer in the kitchen .
I ’ d call out for details—an aunt ’ s maiden name , a first childhood pet—and my father yelled @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
Then there was another question , your first love , and I typed in my mother ’ s name and that didn ’ t work .
I called my dad over , but I didn ’ t tell him why .
I told him there was a question I didn ’ t know , could he fill it in .
My father stumbled over to the computer .
He typed something in , wordlessly .
And I sat down and finished the rest of his paperwork .
I put my hand on @ @ @ @ @ @ @ I told him I ’ d see him in a few weeks , but something came up so I didn ’ t go .
♦

Audio available Listen to this story Audio: Bryan Washington reads.
He knocked on my door about a month after the funeral. I almost didn’t answer, since I wasn’t expecting my fuck buddy. It was entirely too late for anyone to be visiting, but the man in front of me said that he’d been a friend of my father’s—and I slipped on the face I wore for those people. It was three or four in the morning. He’d caught a late flight from Kingston to Houston.
Then the man said something else, in a heavy patois. I asked him to repeat it.
His lover, this guy said, rubbing both of his elbows.
I made a new kind of face. Except it couldn’t have been a new kind of face. We only get so many.
What, I said.
It’s true, he said.
No, I said, and then I laughed.
The man asked to come in. He set his duffel on the carpet, and his jacket beside it, and the doorway was crammed, so we stood, and that’s when I got a good look at him: mid-fifties, Asian. Short hair, messy and curly, sloped just below the nape of his neck. His boots were too large. His track pants were too tight. He told me that he’d never flown in a plane before.
The motor, he said, pantomiming the way the engine turned.
He made a circle with his finger, slowly, and then not very slowly at all.
•
A few hours later, I found him in the living room, sleeping on the rug. I’d made something like a bed on the sofa, out of some hoodies and a quilt my mom had given me. But I guess it hadn’t worked out. He’d folded everything up and placed it on the coffee table.
Hey, I said, toeing him.
The man blinked himself awake, slowly.
Morning, he said. Wah gwan.
No, I said.
No?
No. You got a free night out of me. So tell me who you really are.
I told you, the man said.
You lied, I said.
That’s when my visitor sat up, cocking his head at me. He scratched it, mussing his hair even further.
You look just like him, he said.
Stop that, I said.
But you do.
Look, guy.
Completely uncanny, the man said, still scratching, yawning, shaking his ass a little bit.
He stood, arching his back, leaning one way and then the other. We were about the same height.
But you’re chubbier, the man said.
Hey, I said.
It’s true, he said. Your father could never hold any weight.
The man sat and crossed his legs, slumping with an elbow on the sofa cushion. When he started to yawn, I braced myself, biting my gums, but I couldn’t help it—I yawned, too.
•
The man didn’t want me to take him to breakfast, but I’d stopped keeping groceries in the apartment. Everything always rotted.
I drove him to this Jewish deli a few blocks up the road. I’d been living in Bellaire for the past while, just west of the city proper, where it’s all Vietnamese coffee shops and Chinese markets and Venezuelan grocery stores and there are loan sharks posted on every corner. No one looks like anyone else, until you drive twenty minutes east, toward midtown, and then everyone’s white. My visitor set his ear on the window, and I thought he’d fallen asleep, until he burped and settled his elbows on the dashboard.
At the deli, he ordered one thing from the top of the menu, tentatively, scanning my face. Then he ordered a bagel and some eggs and some potatoes and three biscuits with grits, and also a small plate of lox. Our waiter—some whiteboy—made a funny face and looked from my visitor to me. He wore the same face as he brought our food to the table, juggling three plates with his elbows.
Sorry, my visitor said, when he came up for air. Haven’t eaten.
That’s fine, I said.
Been about a day.
No worries.
Two days.
You don’t have to lie, I said.
You don’t have to lie, the man said, grinning, in a voice four octaves higher.
Our waiter stopped by the table again. Lingering. I asked if there was a problem, and he shook his head and stepped away.
So you’re from Jamaica, I said.
That’s what I told you, the man said.
I opened my mouth, and then I closed it. My visitor tugged on his ear.
I know what’s in your head, he said. Plenty of Chinese all over the island. Everywhere. Even if you didn’t know that.
I didn’t say there weren’t, I said, although it’s exactly what I’d been thinking.
Eh, the man said.
And then: Your father and I were just kids, he said. Lasted five years, on and off.
Five years, I said.
One, two, five.
And then you stopped?
Stopped? In Jamaica? Of course we stopped.
Did you stay in contact?
Ai-yah, the man said. How would we do that? We stopped. Do they have orange juice?
Maybe, I said. Fuck.
Your father swore, too, the man said.
Fuck, I said again.
Rude boy.
Stop that. How did you two even meet?
He worked in my mother’s shop, the man said. At least in the beginning. Short walk from the schoolhouse.
And then what? You just hooked up?
Hooked up?
Never mind, I said. What did y’all do together? How did you two even know?
“Would you mind? My daughter’s a huge fan.” Cartoon by Suerynn Lee Copy link to cartoon Copy link to cartoon Shop Shop
Know what?
You know what.
This prompted a smile from the man, between mouthfuls of eggs and jelly and bagel. He slid the plate toward me. I tore off a corner of a biscuit.


newyorker--2020-01-13--Zillow Listings of New York City

Zillow Listings of New York City

Ooh , honey , look at this one .
Fourteen-foot ceilings , southern exposure , only a second-floor walkup .
It ’ s a tiny bit above our price range , but the monthly maintenance is low .
I guess it ’ s a little on the small side , but there ’ s something kind of romantic about the shower being in the kitchen .
Kind of Parisian , you know ?
Like our own little artist ’ s studio in Montmartre !
Or , hey , this one ’ s gorgeous .
Fully renovated prewar , wraparound patio @ @ @ @ @ @ @ nine times our budget .
I noticed that .
I just thought maybe we could take your stepdad up on his offer .
Use the interest-free loan to get something we really love .
You ’ re right , bad idea .
I agree : why should we give Bill that power over us ?
Even if it does give us the power to live where we want .
No , you ’ re right .
He ’ s not your dad .
Let ’ s stick to the budget .
Here ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ s the right price : great light , updated appliances .
It ’ s a handicapped bathroom in a WeWork .
Only a block off the 6 train !
Hmm .
Just for fun , let ’ s see what our budget gets us outside the city .
Holy shit .
For a fraction of our budget , we could get an entire Trappist monastery in Junction City , Missouri !
We could use the rest of our money to renovate !
And get this : it includes a peach orchard !
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ Wait , forget the pie thing .
Check this out : we can buy the mayor ’ s mansion in Cairo , Georgia , for forty-five dollars !
I ’ m going on Kayak .
All right , you can ’ t fly direct to Cairo , but it ’ s only a brisk three-hour-and-fifty-seven-minute drive from Atlanta .
We ’ d just hop on a plane to Atlanta and cruise on down to Cai-town .
How fun is that ?
It ’ s a hundred and sixty acres , babe !
Just @ @ @ @ @ @ @ that space .
We could put in a pool .
We could even host your mom and Bill for Christmas .
“ Christmas in Cairo !
” Kind of has a nice ring to it , huh ?
Where are you going ?
O.K.
, I ’ ll stop looking outside New York .
You ’ re right .
It ’ s insane .
I know we said a two-bedroom was a must , but this one-bed checks off some of our essentials : A block from the subway .
In-unit laundry— You @ @ @ @ @ @ @ we want to have a family ?
Honey , I love the way you ’ re thinking .
If we have a family move in with us , we could rent them the office and the guest bath , and then we could afford a nicer place !
Oh .
You mean , like , a baby .
Right .
.
.
right !
Wow , did I ever luck out in the husband department .
The fact that you want to start this conversation makes me feel so seen .
I ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
A good , clean , disease-free white baby can fetch up to 90K on the open market .
Now , a bank deposit of that size will raise some eyebrows , so we ’ ll have to make a bunch of small deposits over a period of several— Right , of course .
You mean a baby to love and raise .
Wait a second .
How did we miss this ?
Check out this two-bed between Columbus and the Park .
It ’ s got working fireplaces and a patio , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ s under a mil !
The only thing is that you have to sign a contract agreeing to euthanize yourself on your forty-fifth birthday .
Apparently , the sellers are pretty serious about overpopulation .
I ’ m going to e-mail the broker and see if they ’ d be willing to wiggle on the forty-five thing .
But , Jesus , look at that rainfall shower !
Ugh , it ’ s gone .
All-cash buy , too .
This town .
O.K.
, let ’ s take a hard look at @ @ @ @ @ @ @ So , according to Chase.com , we have eighty-four thousand dollars in savings—if you count the eighty thousand dollars I ’ m getting from Nana whenever she dies .
So , if we ’ re just talking current liquid assets , that ’ s 4K .
I suppose we should keep in mind that we haven ’ t paid rent this month .
In which case , I think we have just enough money to go to Chipotle this evening , if neither of us gets guacamole .
You know how much I @ @ @ @ @ @ @ really starting to have second thoughts about having gotten a Ph.D. in improv .
I know it ’ s dumb to even mention this , but what exactly were the terms of Bill ’ s offer again ?
I seem to remember something about an all-cash , no-interest loan to buy any apartment on the Upper West Side that ’ s within walking distance of him and your mom , right ?
Right .
No , I agree , totally irrelevant !
No , I ’ m not texting .
Really .
All @ @ @ @ @ @ @ my phone back .
So what if I was texting with Bill ?
He was asking me about .
.
.
stuff .
What did I mean by “ Making progress , he ’ s about to crack ” ?
It ’ s an inside joke , O.K.
?
Fine .
You caught me .
I know he ’ s a weird , controlling asshole , but he ’ s a billionaire , you idiot !
And he ’ s basically offering to buy us an apartment !
You wan na have kids @ @ @ @ @ @ @ put kids ?
In a fucking drawer , like we ’ re in a fucking Neil Simon play ?
Wake up , Ethan .
If we want to live in New York , we belong to Bill .
But here ’ s some good news : I just remembered that I have a coupon for a free sub at Jersey Mike ’ s , because I got sick there last time .
Let ’ s live large , baby !
♦

Ooh, honey, look at this one. Fourteen-foot ceilings, southern exposure, only a second-floor walkup. It’s a tiny bit above our price range, but the monthly maintenance is low. I guess it’s a little on the small side, but there’s something kind of romantic about the shower being in the kitchen. Kind of Parisian, you know? Like our own little artist’s studio in Montmartre!
Or, hey, this one’s gorgeous. Fully renovated prewar, wraparound patio, doorman. Yes, it is nine times our budget. I noticed that. I just thought maybe we could take your stepdad up on his offer. Use the interest-free loan to get something we really love.
You’re right, bad idea. I agree: why should we give Bill that power over us? Even if it does give us the power to live where we want. No, you’re right. He’s not your dad. Let’s stick to the budget. Here’s a cute one I found that’s the right price: great light, updated appliances. It’s a handicapped bathroom in a WeWork. Only a block off the 6 train!
Hmm. Just for fun, let’s see what our budget gets us outside the city.
Holy shit. For a fraction of our budget, we could get an entire Trappist monastery in Junction City, Missouri! We could use the rest of our money to renovate! And get this: it includes a peach orchard! We could start a pie business!
Wait, forget the pie thing. Check this out: we can buy the mayor’s mansion in Cairo, Georgia, for forty-five dollars! I’m going on Kayak. All right, you can’t fly direct to Cairo, but it’s only a brisk three-hour-and-fifty-seven-minute drive from Atlanta. We’d just hop on a plane to Atlanta and cruise on down to Cai-town. How fun is that? It’s a hundred and sixty acres, babe! Just think what we could do with all that space. We could put in a pool. We could even host your mom and Bill for Christmas. “Christmas in Cairo!” Kind of has a nice ring to it, huh?
Where are you going?
O.K., I’ll stop looking outside New York. You’re right. It’s insane.
I know we said a two-bedroom was a must, but this one-bed checks off some of our essentials: A block from the subway. In-unit laundry—
You raise a good point: what if we want to have a family?
Honey, I love the way you’re thinking. If we have a family move in with us, we could rent them the office and the guest bath, and then we could afford a nicer place!
Oh. You mean, like, a baby. Right . . . right! Wow, did I ever luck out in the husband department. The fact that you want to start this conversation makes me feel so seen. I’ve actually already done a little research. A good, clean, disease-free white baby can fetch up to 90K on the open market. Now, a bank deposit of that size will raise some eyebrows, so we’ll have to make a bunch of small deposits over a period of several—
Right, of course. You mean a baby to love and raise.
Wait a second. How did we miss this? Check out this two-bed between Columbus and the Park. It’s got working fireplaces and a patio, and, holy shit, it’s under a mil! The only thing is that you have to sign a contract agreeing to euthanize yourself on your forty-fifth birthday. Apparently, the sellers are pretty serious about overpopulation. I’m going to e-mail the broker and see if they’d be willing to wiggle on the forty-five thing. But, Jesus, look at that rainfall shower!
Ugh, it’s gone. All-cash buy, too. This town. O.K., let’s take a hard look at our finances and figure this out.
So, according to Chase.com, we have eighty-four thousand dollars in savings—if you count the eighty thousand dollars I’m getting from Nana whenever she dies. So, if we’re just talking current liquid assets, that’s 4K. I suppose we should keep in mind that we haven’t paid rent this month. In which case, I think we have just enough money to go to Chipotle this evening, if neither of us gets guacamole.
You know how much I loved Princeton, but I’m really starting to have second thoughts about having gotten a Ph.D. in improv. I know it’s dumb to even mention this, but what exactly were the terms of Bill’s offer again? I seem to remember something about an all-cash, no-interest loan to buy any apartment on the Upper West Side that’s within walking distance of him and your mom, right? Right. No, I agree, totally irrelevant!
No, I’m not texting. Really. All right, very funny. Give me my phone back. So what if I was texting with Bill? He was asking me about . . . stuff.
What did I mean by “Making progress, he’s about to crack”? It’s an inside joke, O.K.?
Fine. You caught me. I know he’s a weird, controlling asshole, but he’s a billionaire, you idiot! And he’s basically offering to buy us an apartment! You wanna have kids?! Where are we gonna put kids? In a fucking drawer, like we’re in a fucking Neil Simon play?
I. Teach. Improv. To. Adults! You’re. A. Fucking. Playwright!
Wake up, Ethan. If we want to live in New York, we belong to Bill. But here’s some good news: I just remembered that I have a coupon for a free sub at Jersey Mike’s, because I got sick there last time. Let’s live large, baby! ♦


newyorker--2020-01-13--100 gecs’ Musical Scrap Yard

100 gecs’ Musical Scrap Yard

In the fall of 2018 , the members of an online collective called Thwip Gang had a far-fetched idea .
Earlier that year , they had hosted a birthday party for a friend on Minecraft , the popular and influential open-world video game .
The birthday party drew hundreds of guests online .
Now Thwip Gang conceived of a more ambitious social experiment : a music festival called Coalchella , a riff on Coachella , also to be held on Minecraft .
They booked dozens of musicians , most of them obscure electronic acts , to perform live virtual sets @ @ @ @ @ @ @ music from the eight-hour event , which included two digitally rendered stages , a Ferris wheel , and sponsorships from fake brands .
One of the acts was 100 gecs , an avant-garde electronic duo , composed of Dylan Brady and Laura Les .
The pair met as teen-agers in St. Louis , and had cultivated a loose collaboration for several years .
At the Minecraft festival , they débuted a song called “ ringtone , ” a fitting anthem for a high-concept and low-stakes event taking place inside a video game .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ levels , and they sang the chorus , a meditation on smartphones , over a sickly sweet , oversimplified synth melody : “ My boy ’ s got his own ringtone / It ’ s the only one I know / It ’ s the only one I know.
” Months later , they performed at another Minecraft music festival , this time with a heftier set of songs , the crown jewel of which was “ money machine ” —a squelching electro-rock track with cartoonishly distorted bass and a nonsensical preamble in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ baby.
” It was the right kind of music to be incubated in virtual reality : silly , uncanny , full of adrenaline , and blithe about mainstream trends .
These songs are the foundational tracks of 100 gecs ’ first album , “ 1000 gecs , ” which was released last summer .
It ’ s a whirlwind record , clocking in at only twenty-three minutes , but it contains a multiverse of references , as well as a deconstruction of those references .
To listen to the album is to have @ @ @ @ @ @ @ have while receiving an auditory flogging .
In the musical scrap yard of “ 1000 gecs , ” anything is fair game , especially modes and styles from history ’ s refuse pile .
The album displays a fondness for unfashionable genres—electroclash , pop-punk , emo rap , dubstep , trance , industrial rock and dance , drum ’ n ’ bass , death metal , chiptune , and even polka—but a hardened allegiance to none .
( The use of commonplace hip-hop vocabulary is the only through line to the current pop @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the first group to make hyper-referential , free-form electronic music , of course .
Brady and Les are disciples of John Zorn , the prolific experimental composer , who has made chamber music , improvisational jazz , and hardcore punk , sometimes all on the same album .
And they exist in the lineage of acts like the Avalanches and Girl Talk , sample-based electronic artists who created connect-the-dots listening experiences using familiar songs .
But “ 1000 gecs ” is less a product of nostalgia than of nihilism , an impressively concise @ @ @ @ @ @ @ does not capture specific eras so much as it celebrates a history of musical idiosyncrasies , calling to mind the songs of pop music ’ s strangest one-hit wonders—think Eiffel 65 ’ s “ Blue , ” Aqua ’ s “ Barbie Girl , ” and Skrillex ’ s “ Scary Monsters and Nice Sprites.
” Unlike so many of its predecessors , 100 gecs does not use samples .
What sound like glitches are fleeting glimpses of the past .
As solo artists , Brady and Les have followed more direct impulses @ @ @ @ @ @ @ hip-hop .
Together , they scramble these impulses into oblivion .
It would be tempting to write off 100 gecs as a prank or a fluke if the songs did not have such an eerily resonant emotional core .
Brady and Les ’ s heavily filtered voices express genuine anxiety about love , money , and technology .
On “ ringtone , ” they convey the overwhelming feeling of looking at your phone : “ Forty-five group texts , fifty group D.M.s , send another text askin ’ me if I ’ ve @ @ @ @ @ @ @ on “ 800db cloud , ” a song that alternates between spare , longing whispers and mosh-pit mayhem , including a brief hardcore-style breakdown in which their voices are pitched down to guttural growls .
“ I might go and throw my phone into the lake , yeah , ” they sing .
In the video for the song , the pair are shown manically headbanging in front of the TCL Chinese Theatre , on the Hollywood Walk of Fame , as passersby film them with their phones .
Part of what makes @ @ @ @ @ @ @ that it fulfills conceptual promises made more than a decade ago , when the Internet was beginning to reshape notions of what music could be .
Theoretically , people now had access to software and music libraries that would allow them to make whatever style of music they pleased .
Artists , it was believed , would surely take more liberties , and pop music would become stranger , bolder , and more whimsical .
That isn ’ t quite what ended up happening .
Instead , the dominance of streaming services created @ @ @ @ @ @ @ easier to keep people listening to a playlist when everything on it sounds pretty much the same .
That ’ s why even music classified as “ independent ” or “ genre-defiant ” has come to sound like easy listening .
100 gecs is a jarring antidote to this trend .

In the fall of 2018, the members of an online collective called Thwip Gang had a far-fetched idea. Earlier that year, they had hosted a birthday party for a friend on Minecraft, the popular and influential open-world video game. The birthday party drew hundreds of guests online. Now Thwip Gang conceived of a more ambitious social experiment: a music festival called Coalchella, a riff on Coachella, also to be held on Minecraft. They booked dozens of musicians, most of them obscure electronic acts, to perform live virtual sets. More than twenty-seven thousand people streamed music from the eight-hour event, which included two digitally rendered stages, a Ferris wheel, and sponsorships from fake brands.
One of the acts was 100 gecs, an avant-garde electronic duo, composed of Dylan Brady and Laura Les. The pair met as teen-agers in St. Louis, and had cultivated a loose collaboration for several years. At the Minecraft festival, they débuted a song called “ringtone,” a fitting anthem for a high-concept and low-stakes event taking place inside a video game. Their voices were pitched up to Chipmunk levels, and they sang the chorus, a meditation on smartphones, over a sickly sweet, oversimplified synth melody: “My boy’s got his own ringtone / It’s the only one I know / It’s the only one I know.” Months later, they performed at another Minecraft music festival, this time with a heftier set of songs, the crown jewel of which was “money machine”—a squelching electro-rock track with cartoonishly distorted bass and a nonsensical preamble in which Les calls someone a “piss baby.” It was the right kind of music to be incubated in virtual reality: silly, uncanny, full of adrenaline, and blithe about mainstream trends.
These songs are the foundational tracks of 100 gecs’ first album, “1000 gecs,” which was released last summer. It’s a whirlwind record, clocking in at only twenty-three minutes, but it contains a multiverse of references, as well as a deconstruction of those references. To listen to the album is to have as much fun as one can possibly have while receiving an auditory flogging. In the musical scrap yard of “1000 gecs,” anything is fair game, especially modes and styles from history’s refuse pile. The album displays a fondness for unfashionable genres—electroclash, pop-punk, emo rap, dubstep, trance, industrial rock and dance, drum ’n’ bass, death metal, chiptune, and even polka—but a hardened allegiance to none. (The use of commonplace hip-hop vocabulary is the only through line to the current pop landscape.)
100 gecs is not the first group to make hyper-referential, free-form electronic music, of course. Brady and Les are disciples of John Zorn, the prolific experimental composer, who has made chamber music, improvisational jazz, and hardcore punk, sometimes all on the same album. And they exist in the lineage of acts like the Avalanches and Girl Talk, sample-based electronic artists who created connect-the-dots listening experiences using familiar songs. But “1000 gecs” is less a product of nostalgia than of nihilism, an impressively concise maximalist exercise with no rules. It does not capture specific eras so much as it celebrates a history of musical idiosyncrasies, calling to mind the songs of pop music’s strangest one-hit wonders—think Eiffel 65’s “Blue,” Aqua’s “Barbie Girl,” and Skrillex’s “Scary Monsters and Nice Sprites.” Unlike so many of its predecessors, 100 gecs does not use samples. What sound like glitches are fleeting glimpses of the past.
As solo artists, Brady and Les have followed more direct impulses, creating wistful, experimental pop and hip-hop. Together, they scramble these impulses into oblivion. It would be tempting to write off 100 gecs as a prank or a fluke if the songs did not have such an eerily resonant emotional core. Brady and Les’s heavily filtered voices express genuine anxiety about love, money, and technology. On “ringtone,” they convey the overwhelming feeling of looking at your phone: “Forty-five group texts, fifty group D.M.s, send another text askin’ me if I’ve seen them.” This turns to panic on “800db cloud,” a song that alternates between spare, longing whispers and mosh-pit mayhem, including a brief hardcore-style breakdown in which their voices are pitched down to guttural growls. “I might go and throw my phone into the lake, yeah,” they sing. In the video for the song, the pair are shown manically headbanging in front of the TCL Chinese Theatre, on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, as passersby film them with their phones.
Part of what makes 100 gecs’ work so exhilarating is that it fulfills conceptual promises made more than a decade ago, when the Internet was beginning to reshape notions of what music could be. Theoretically, people now had access to software and music libraries that would allow them to make whatever style of music they pleased. Artists, it was believed, would surely take more liberties, and pop music would become stranger, bolder, and more whimsical. That isn’t quite what ended up happening. Instead, the dominance of streaming services created a marketplace that rewarded conformity—it’s easier to keep people listening to a playlist when everything on it sounds pretty much the same. That’s why even music classified as “independent” or “genre-defiant” has come to sound like easy listening. 100 gecs is a jarring antidote to this trend.
Brady and Les haven’t toured much beyond their virtual-reality festival appearances, but live performance has become an important aspect of the 100 gecs mythology nonetheless. (In a pleasing turn of events, they were recently booked to perform at this year’s real Coachella.) In late November, they played a string of opening sets for the hip-hop act Brockhampton, capped off with a headlining show at the intimate Brooklyn venue Elsewhere. The event quickly sold out, and tickets were listed on StubHub for more than three hundred dollars. The space was not equipped to handle the crowd’s enthusiasm, and at times the show resembled a gleeful stampede.
Both Brady and Les have mangled nests of platinum-blond hair, and Brady likes to wear a floppy scarecrow hat as he bounces behind his minimal setup of a laptop and synthesizers. About halfway through their brief, chaotic set at Elsewhere, the pair informed the crowd that they wouldn’t be able to play “money machine,” a fan favorite and their biggest song. “We sold the licensing,” one of them announced. “And now we’re not allowed to play it anymore.”
This, of course, was a joke. But it was also a bit of winking commentary on their ascendance. 100 gecs has attracted the kind of buzz that is typically accompanied by offers from major labels, eager for a piece of the novelty. It has also generated the sort of painstaking discourse that is increasingly uncommon in music, given the speed at which new artists pass in and out of view. (The band even has naysayers, eager to deflate its hype bubble. “You’ve probably never heard anything like them—unless you’ve heard Sleigh Bells, or Salem, or Die Antwoord, or PC Music, or any other artist from the past decade who emerged from the same jacuzzi-hot gene pool that once produced Frank Zappa, Primus, Andrew W.K. and Crazy Frog,” a critic from the Washington Post wrote.)
The funniest part of the comment was the notion of someone “licensing” a song like “money machine,” which, despite being 100 gecs’ most straightforward pop song, is still a disorienting blizzard of noise. The idea of its clattering sound accompanying TV shows, commercials, and retail installations invoked an alternate, more interesting reality, in which 100 gecs’ sensibilities were tastemaking rather than subversive.
To the crowd’s immense joy, Brady and Les then launched into “money machine.” They played a few more songs, and soon they’d run through their entire catalogue. As the audience chanted “gec! gec! gec!,” it became clear that Brady and Les would have to come up with an encore. They played “money machine” for a second time, as if to savor their fleeting ownership over it. ♦