CAN WINE EVER THROW OFF THE YOKE OF BOURGEOISIE RACISM & MISOGYNY?

Is this the man a diversity professor was chastising for drinking white wine?

The juxtaposition is stark. A story titled, “Professor: Black Man, Before You Sip That White Wine in Public, Know You Annoy Us” moved on Tom Wark’s The Spill Thursday morning. Scrolling to two pieces down, I saw this: “How to Choose Wine Without Stress: A Simple Guide for Beginners”. The two reports were literally Yin & Yang. The first penned by a Black man, the other is a video moderated by a White woman.

In the first — a writer and a diversity professor, I must admit, I thought was a play on why a Black man shouldn’t drink white wine in public. But I think Lawrence Ware, writing on The Root, was serious. (https://www.theroot.com/professor-black-man-before-you-sip-that-white-wine-in-2000098984?utm_source=thespill.net&utm_medium=newsletter&utm_campaign=the-underrated-ca-wine-region-space-aged-wine-investment-surge-in-wine-and-much-more&_bhlid=6a33b0b8ffc4d8681b5edc1792efc5448d2df0b9

As a White man, I think I’m astute enough to see Mr. Ware’s point. The image of a Black man sipping on white wine at a bar – with clichéd pinkie in the air – smacks of falling in line with the White bourgeoisie. It likely is to many folks. But let’s try once again, to get past this. I know that’s easy to say for an ofay; but please let’s try.

Of course, that’s the image wine has been promulgating for Millenia. Throw in some white wine – and not red – the image becomes even more unambiguous. In fact, Mr. Ware’s treatise is laden with cliché; i.e.

“It is never just a sip. It is a presentation. Words like crisp and notes start floating around unprovoked. You did not ask for a tasting. Nobody here is grading you. And yet here you are, auditioning for a role nobody cast you in, turning a regular Saturday night into a one-man show called Refinement. And yo, real talk, other Black men see you.”

And then there’s Anya Gariboldi, a somm and wine instructor, in her seven-minute clip, attempts to teach the beginner about wine.

Yet another self-indulgent, dominant cultural epistle larded with platitudes. The handsome, blonde-haired Ms. Gariboldi – sitting in front a pink marble (faux?) fireplace and dressed with a smart suit that says “money”, sleeves ringed in fur (faux?) cuffs and six-inch gold earrings dangling from her ears. Faux.

Ms. Gariboldi speaks so fast – maybe her budget was limited – that I dare any novice, let alone this wine knowledgeable journalist – to keep up; and more importantly, to understand. And learn anything.

Interspersed thoughout the short and not so sweet swift lesson, Ms. Gariboldi has chosen to include outakes of clips of people drinking wine. You guessed it, they’re all White. Oh, save for one really rapid tableau in which a White man – scanning cluttered wines shelves in a super market, stands next to – you’ve got it, a Black woman. How hackneyed can you get?

One can conclude both posts – instead of enlightening – only mystifies wine even more than it already is; and dumps it squarely in the maw of the wine is bougie folder. It’s not for us. It’s for them.

To further prove the point, Mr. Ware writes:

If we’re being honest, part of the reason the brothers are clowning you has nothing to do with the wine itself. It is what we think it says about you. We are looking at that glass and quietly wondering if you could even handle a real drink.

An Old Fashioned. Something brown and honest that does not need a speech. A whiskey neat that burns a little and lets you know you are alive. A dark rum that does not apologize for itself. Drinks that do not require adjectives to prove their worth.”

I’m loath to say here, what that statement once again fosters what we used to call male chauvinism. We men can’t now allow ourselves to be misogynist pigs. For that is a basic tenant of this country’s regime at this moment. Alpha males uber-allis must be put down. They’re getting even with the women’s movement after all these years and how they perceive women as creating a couple of generations of American men weak, soft, confused, and sissified.

It’s very telling when Lawrence Ware at the end of his piece shows his hand:

“ … (L)let me go ahead and say it now before someone else does. I drink white wine too.

Yes. I do. I admit it.

But I do it in the house. Behind closed doors. Like a man is supposed to.”

Wow!!