Some call it “tough love,” others claim they’re just “keepin’ it real.” Either way, by preparing their children to face racism, parents hope their kids will be able to handle such realities in non-violent ways.

In their attempt to understand the impact of interpersonal racial discrimination on criminal offending, Callie Burt, Ronald Simmons, and Frederick Gibbons offer new insights into how African American parents prepare their children for experiences with racial bias in order to foster a sense of resilience.  Based on panel data from several hundred male African American youth from the Family and Community Health Study, their findings show that higher instances of racial discrimination increase the likelihood of crime. But they also find that families use what they call “ethnic-racial socialization” (ERS) as a means of reducing this effect. According to the authors, ERS is “a class of adaptive and protective practices utilized by racial/ethnic minority families to promote functioning in a society stratified by race and ethnicity.” ERS is not necessarily a strategic effort, but an adaptive means of coping with racial inequality. In addition to reducing the impact of racial discrimination among the sample of black youth, ERS also weakened the effects of emotional distress, hostile views, and disengagement from norms on increased offending. Further, teaching kids about racism may prevent them from getting tangled up in criminal responses, but it’s also clear evidence that our society hasn’t transcended race or racism.

In an era of concerted cultivation and enlightened parenting, the need to steer children away from crime by revealing harsh inequalities at a young age seems futile. Ethnic-racial socialization strategies are not compatible with most middle-class cultural scripts. However, the irony in all of this is that most privileged parents are keeping it just as “real” as low-income parents of color. It is the stark contrast in how these parents practice concerted cultivation—whether in teaching piano scales or teaching kids to expect a racist world—that catches our attention.

Uptalk—a rise in intonation at the end of a statement—is most commonly associated with “Valley Girls”, but is actually fairly common in all American speech. And, as Thomas Linneman argues (Gender & Society February 2013), it may also be a key way that gender is both learned and communicated in our interactions.

Analyzing the speech patterns of 300 “Jeopardy!” contestants, Linneman finds that uptalk is used in the delivery of a full third of all responses. While women use uptalk more often, men also answer with a questioning tone, and are more likely to do so when engaging with a woman contestant. By definition, uptalk occurs during statements, not questions. Although “Jeopardy!” contestants must phrase their answer as a question, Linneman argues that responses are “questions” in name only—they’re treated as statements on the show.

Uptalk is most common with incorrect answers, lending support to the idea that it is a sign of uncertainty. But even accounting for accuracy, gender differences remain. For example, as women’s success on the show increases, so too does their use of uptalk—perhaps, Linneman argues, to account for this “breach” in gender performance. On the other hand, men decrease their use of uptalk when they’re doing well, unless they are correcting a female contestant. Men seem to realize that their gender expectations demand competitiveness and certainty.

Interested readers should also check out a guest post on this research on the TSP Community Page Sociological Images.

It’s been hard to ignore various responses to growing economic inequality. Tea Partiers, Occupiers, and politicians have concentrated our attention on wealth, corporate greed, and governmental spending. Yet, a compilation of polls examined by Greg Shaw and Laura Gaffey (Public Opinion Quarterly) shows that these movements haven’t done much to sway public opinion. Assembling polls on inequality, taxes, and mobility from 1990 to 2011, the authors reveal that American public opinion has remained fairly stable on these issues. For instance, in 1990, 28% of those polled believed that the distribution of wealth in the U.S. is “fair.” In 2011, 26% said the same.

Dozens of similar poll results lend support to the argument that, while street protests may have impacted national conversation on inequality, Americans have not dramatically shifted their views. The authors describe the public striking an “awkward but lasting balance” between endorsing a belief in equal opportunity and acknowledging very unequal outcomes. This stable trend reflects American reluctance to embrace redistribution, even in light of heated criticism of income inequality. Fundamentally, these polls also reflect a difficult-to-dislodge cultural view that a tougher work ethic will lead to greater individual American wealth—that is, work hard, and the rewards will come.

Skateboarding has long been the hobby/sport of choice for disillusioned urban and suburban youth—spawning a fast-paced and thrill-seeking subculture that has become nearly universally loathed by parents. But it now appears that much of the ire that skateboarding and skateboarders have received over the years may be unwarranted. As Gregory J. Snyder (Ethnography, August 2012) writes, skateboarding’s growing prominence has aided in the creation of countless career paths, both direct (as boarders) and indirect (as photographers, artists, publicists, managers, etc.). Given the context in which these economic opportunities have arisen, Snyder calls them “subculture careers”—unique positions largely owed to skateboarding’s status as a subculture, not viable careers in spite of it.  While the subculture undoubtedly revolves around the skills and creativity of its most gifted boarders, these other positions are integral to the widespread dissemination of the craft.

Snyder also goes on to credit much of skateboarding’s remarkable expansion, from its origins as a niche hobby to its position as a global industry, to its communities’ close ties with and novel uses of urban spaces. Not only are skateboarders frequently depicted performing gravity-defying tricks over urban obstacles, much of the skateboarding industry is situated in major American cities (in the case of this article, Los Angeles). Snyder argues that this connection to large urban environments helps draw in talented boarders and artists from throughout the world. In turn, this cosmopolitan group helps continually diversify and develop skateboarding from within.

Color-coded awareness ribbons abound these days. Even NFL football players wear pink gear during October to support breast cancer awareness. But, as Rachel Kahn Best reveals in the American Sociological Review (October 2012), this awareness has accomplished far more than selling ribbons and staging fundraising walks—it’s transformed how government funding for disease research is distributed in the United States.

Using data on federal medical research funding for 53 diseases between 1989 and 2007, Best shows that advocates for single diseases not only secured increased funding for their causes, but also changed how decisions are made to fund medical research. Because these efforts redefined the beneficiaries of medical research funding as patients rather than researchers, policymakers needed new metrics to make funding decisions.  A focus on “dollars per death” and “big killers” emerged, making mortality a primary measure for distributing research funding among diseases. This has provided a seemingly rational, fair, statistically-based—and appealing—way to make funding choices.

But the shift toward thinking of patients as the beneficiaries of medical research funding has also brought stigma and the relative “deservingness” of patients front and center. Some diseases, like muscular dystrophy, appear to have “innocent” victims, ill through no fault of their own. But because those with lung or liver cancer may suffer after making arguably poor choices, such as smoking or drinking, they (and their diseases) are seen as less deserving of research funds. Best’s analyses demonstrate that, indeed, such stigmatized diseases have generally received less research money in recent years.

Just over a year ago, the UK was rocked by five days of rioting and looting that spanned across London and forty-six other local areas. Denouncing the violence as evidence of uncontrolled mobs, Prime Minister David Cameron and Tory politicians declared an “all-out war on gangs and gang culture.” Yet the prevailing stereotype of chaotic, irrationally violent gangs has meant that the ensuing government policies have largely failed. Some have even backfired.

In this recent research (Social Problems, September 2012), Oxford’s James Densley outlines the real operation of gang violence. Examining gang recruitment in London, Densley argues that gangs actually place a premium on a potential recruit’s established reputation for using effective, yet “disciplined violence.” By recruiting talented but discerning fighters, a gang increases its own collective reputation for violence, thus limiting the actual amount of violence in which its members will need to engage. Fear over fists, if you will. Furthermore, Densley refers to instances in which gangs have actually “taken out” their members with reputations for indiscriminate violence—these unpredictable members were more of a liability than an asset to the group.

A far cry from the image of riotous youth, the portrait that Densley paints of the “ideal” gang recruit most closely hews to “The Wire’s” Stringer Bell, who ran his gang’s meetings with Roberts’ Rules of Order, than the “feral underclass” that politicians and pundits love to villainize.

The 1990s saw the rise of multi-party elections in Africa, as well as an increase in election monitoring by international organizations. The goal of such monitoring is to assess and document whether the election process is free and fair, so it’s expected that monitoring should promote peace and increase respect of the electoral process by all parties. Surprising recent evidence, however, suggests fraudulent elections are more likely to lead to violence when they are monitored by international observers.

Ursula Daxecker (Journal of Peace Research, July 2012) analyzes 189 African elections from 1997 to 2009 and accounts for contributing factors, such as pre-election violence, stability, and economic development. In cases in which there was election fraud, Daxecker finds that international observations may actually incite violence, rather than providing a stabilizing force. Essentially, the credible documentation of fraud publicizes illegitimate tactics and may serve as a rallying point for violent unrest and mobilization.

While international peace and democracy advocates assume increased transparency and media coverage is positive, Daxecker’s findings suggest increased attention can be problematic. In cases of fraudulent elections, documenting the truth comes with unintended consequences.

Many contemporary reality shows focus on bodies that are “extreme” in one way or another. In a recent article, Laura Backstrom (Sociological Forum, September 2012) takes a closer look at a pair of these shows, finding that the presentations vary greatly based on conceptions of disability, responsibility, and identity.

Backstrom compares “Little People, Big World,” a reality show that follows a family in which the parents and one son are dwarfs, to “Ruby,” an eponymous show that chronicles the life of one obese woman. Both shows focus on the challenges posed by living with an abnormal body size, but in vastly different ways. In “Little People, Big World,” dealing with dwarfism is constructed as an identity project—encouraging bodily acceptance and a positive social identity. Additionally, the show attempts to de-stigmatize dwarfism and bring attention to the various ways that the world is “not built for little people.” Ruby’s challenges, on the other hand, are constructed as a body project—focusing on weight loss as the primary path to happiness. In contrast to the notion that the world should adapt to little people’s needs, there is no mention the world needing to be modified to fit Ruby’s body. Instead, the focus is on how Ruby’s body prevents her from participating fully in social life.

Backstrom finds that “Little People” follows the principles of the disability rights movement: little people are shown being encouraged to accept themselves as they are, exhibit a positive identity, and participate fully in the social world. Ruby’s obesity, however, is not a condition that fits into the disability rights model. Her  size is portrayed as a roadblock to a positive identity (and as an obstacle she can remove rather than accept). The solution to obesity in shows like these, Backstrom concludes, is always body modification, never de-stigmatization or acceptance of the obese body.

With all the benefits drinking water is said to provide—healthy skin, better digestion, more energy, weight loss, and more—it isn’t surprising that there are few places where people are not constantly sipping water. In the most recent issue of Body & Society, Kane Race provides some much needed context by asking how we got so obsessed with hydration.

Through detailed analysis of the global marketing of bottled water, Race shows companies have shifted our understanding of water as a basic resource to a personal health responsibility. Race finds companies have drawn on exercise science (not the medical or nutrition fields) and applied the conclusions of research on high performance athletes to the general population. Because, hey, even if we can’t perform like high-level athletes, we should drink like them!

The language of fluid replacement was soon mixed with disparate types of expertise to create an authoritative—and highly technical—explanation of the need to be hyper-hydrated. Perhaps most impressive, water companies, operating as medical experts, have established the counter-intuitive claim that thirst itself is not a reliable measure of when the body needs water.

Thanks to Race’s work, it is possible to see how successful advertising campaigns from companies such as Evian and Perrier and groups like the International Bottled Water Association have shaped our very experience of something as basic as drinking water. And he helps us understand how we reached such a precarious position: according to websites like Danone Waters’ Hydration4Health (for “health professionals” and the “general public“), we’re all just a few sips from dehydrated ruin.

Privileged moms like Victoria Beckham and Tori Spelling, with four cesareans each, have given rise to the idea that some women are “too posh to push,” scheduling their births instead.

Not so, say Louise Marie Roth and Megan Henley (Social Problems, May 2012), who examined data from 3.7 million U.S. births in 2006.  At first pass, higher levels of education appeared to be associated with greater odds of cesarean birth. But once race, age, pregnancy characteristics (pre-term birth, multiples, low birth weight, etc.), and complications of labor and delivery were taken into account, white women with greater privilege were shown to be the least likely to have surgical births. Other studies have shown that highly educated white women also choose home birth more than any other group.

Roth and Henley suggest class and race play a big role in the quality of medical care women receive. C-sections, which now make up one-third of all U.S. births, are associated with increased maternal deaths and other post-surgical complications. Minority women of lower socioeconomic status are more likely to have cesareans for less urgent reasons, suggesting that what looks like “posh” medical treatment on the surface might actually be a sign of low quality maternity care. Apparently, with privilege comes the ability to exercise more control in the delivery room and avoid, rather than choose, surgical delivery.