I have three phobias which, could I mute them, would make my life as slick as a sonnet, but as dull as dishwater: I hate to go to bed, I hate to get up, and I hate to be alone. --Tallulah Bankhead
This last few weeks have been immense. I've not talked to any friends. Cliffy stayed at the house the weekend before last. Like always, it was good until after she left. I've had this stomach virus off and on for weeks and got the final brunt of it last week, missing two days of work - not my choice, especially considering it's a new job. I'm loving work and even went in this weekend to show Delhi the space and get some cleanup done. School is kicking my butt and I'm supposed to be awake to write my extra credit paper. I was so sick I couldn't even get up to get to class so I missed a test - good thing is that I'm not penalized - bad thing is that my final test counts twice. It's been 4 or 5 days since the worst of it and my neck is still tight and my ribs hurt tremendously.
Amid all this, I've had on my mind the realization, yet again, that there is so little in this city for me. I'm at the opposite side of the wheel that I was in when in Austin - there I'd lost my job but found a city that, while not perfect, was close to sharing my energy/frame of mind/frequency. Now, I've got a great job, keep getting promoted and pay raises but don't have community. It hurts me.
Delhi surprised me this evening and folded some of my clothes that I'd washed and made my bed (if you know me, you know I don't make beds). I told her I really appreciated it because those were ways we could help each other - in just the few moments we have free. We'd been having so many talks where I was doing the talking - I'd neglected the community-vision of my parenting - that eventually she never talked. This weekend she spent some time at my mother's house but I picked her up Sunday morning and told her that I wasn't going to rationalize or guilt her but that I would very much like us to work together to clean up. It took forever but we went through some clothes for school, threw away old school stuff, put her books away and checked off the school supply items we already had.
I'm trying to make the most of the space that I do have. I would very much like to be in a space where I could say what I wanted, where I could let out my wittiness without apologizing, where someone who tells me they should marry me means it - some place where I'm able to write so that I'm not getting frustrated with my little mama. I would like to stay peaceful with her. We work so much better. I don't know that I'm capable of making peace with this city or with the luck that's given me career opportunities but I can make peace with my Delhi.
Showing posts with label dominant culture. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dominant culture. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
foreigners at the Target
Target's come out with their Global Bazaar series of furnishings, decor and must-haves. It's nice looking, and I get caught up, especially since I'm slowly transforming the house into this multiethnic, multicolored buzz.
It goes to show how much Americans like their consumer goods, and how often majority culture views ethnic goods as easy, marketable things which will "color" their lives.
But theory is different than practice: I knew it would happen - that Tigrette, my little one, would be at some store and someone would allude to her being "foreign". It happens to all people of color. I was once lovingly told at a Greyhound bus stop that I looked so much like someone's Hawaiian niece, the product of a second marriage to their [white] daughter. My coloring, my frizzy hair.
So, my mother returns from one of her weekly trips to Target with Tigrette and tells me this woman approached her and said how beautiful she is. Again, her "coloring, her hair..." and then proceeds to ask her what race she is. My mother, face stone cold, turns to her and says "The human race. And you?" Nicely said, mater!
Usually my mother would go into a tirade that would include some choice words, a reference to "you people" (which never sounds good) and end with a spanish-language slur about the woman's mother. She must have been in a good mood.
So many things are wrong here: consumerism versus actual appreciation of ethnic contributions and cultural expressions; justification of dominant culture to infer details about an "other" and state them without any fear of inappropriateness; beauty relegated to ethnic makeup based on preconceived notions; false sentimentality and community based on gender commonality. There's more.
And to think Tigrette used to hate having to correct people when they thought she was a boy. This type of assumptive thinking is even harder to recognize and respond to because it's along gender and culture lines. Makes me think of Ronald Takaki.
It goes to show how much Americans like their consumer goods, and how often majority culture views ethnic goods as easy, marketable things which will "color" their lives.
But theory is different than practice: I knew it would happen - that Tigrette, my little one, would be at some store and someone would allude to her being "foreign". It happens to all people of color. I was once lovingly told at a Greyhound bus stop that I looked so much like someone's Hawaiian niece, the product of a second marriage to their [white] daughter. My coloring, my frizzy hair.
So, my mother returns from one of her weekly trips to Target with Tigrette and tells me this woman approached her and said how beautiful she is. Again, her "coloring, her hair..." and then proceeds to ask her what race she is. My mother, face stone cold, turns to her and says "The human race. And you?" Nicely said, mater!
Usually my mother would go into a tirade that would include some choice words, a reference to "you people" (which never sounds good) and end with a spanish-language slur about the woman's mother. She must have been in a good mood.
So many things are wrong here: consumerism versus actual appreciation of ethnic contributions and cultural expressions; justification of dominant culture to infer details about an "other" and state them without any fear of inappropriateness; beauty relegated to ethnic makeup based on preconceived notions; false sentimentality and community based on gender commonality. There's more.
And to think Tigrette used to hate having to correct people when they thought she was a boy. This type of assumptive thinking is even harder to recognize and respond to because it's along gender and culture lines. Makes me think of Ronald Takaki.
Thursday, January 19, 2006
in the mood
I don't know if it's all the movement and work I'm putting in but I've been so quick to get turned on. I was minding my own self tonight, having done some "career" clothes shopping and ordered some food and a double vanilla soy latte (new favorite - but the coffee has to be good or the soy no vale pa' na!).
The dyke-y girl who made my latte called me honey a few times and I got all warm. Earlier at work, this dyke-y girl opened the door and I got red in my face. I say "dyke-y" because I am guessing they are - who knows what they really go for. Either way, I don't get why I'm so quickly aroused.
On yahoo messenger even, someone saw my profile and IM'd me to see if I was interested in being a domme. I told them I wanted to sub and only for a woman. Dudes, they just keep
trying - can't see I like the girls!
So much so right now, I saw a green shirt at one store that said "Everyone loves an Italian girl". I'm not Italian but I could agree with it.
On the super plus side, I feel good at the new job. My boss is smart, hands-off but approachable. It's even nice to drive around during lunch. I've forgotten what to do with lunch breaks but there are a couple of great shops. I'm near all the queer community so there's always something to do after work.
Today, however, I took a couple of poems to Burger King and sat with a spicy chicken sandwich (I like anglo versions of "spicy" - such a tease). A woman working the tables called me "child" a couple of times and told me the sun was too beautiful to be looking at work. She said I had a nice smile.
I must be opening up in different ways - I know I feel different. I even bought a skirt today. Don't tell anyone but I haven't worn a skirt since 5th grade - I truly recall believing that I didn't have to dress like what people considered appropriate for those viewed as female.
I am missing my clothes. I didn't pack up everything, just those that would match each other so I'm dressing kind of dull right now. Too much pastel and black.
I really am missing Austin but, while it's kid and artist and bohemian friendly, it's just not working class friendly. And, despite some incredible friends I call family, I am partnerless and hating the "community" which had been sold to me as something incredible - I had very little holding me there. San Anto has its own issues but damned if I've not been smiling like mad the last couple of days at the excitement of true, viable, people of color-specific arts! I didn't
realize how good I had it.
Smiling more because right now, in Austin, a couple of Latino arts groups are shitting in their pants for not having had a larger vision. Somehow being more concerned about $500 in grant money is more important that assisting an organization, in trouble, that is helping others succeed. I shouldn't even say Latinos - it's down home Mexican Americans messing with each other instead of scaring dominant culture with 500 years of cultura.
Friday, December 02, 2005
los blancos son candela
My mother called me this morning and told me her Tia Teresa, just arrived from Cuba and visiting our family in Florida, couldn't imagine all the things our country throws away and how our hands don't handle even basic tasks anymore. Her prime example was grapes she saw at a grocery store, already washed and in individual bags. Teresa says "los blancos son candela."
global cositas
Well, the universe may have heard me...
Months ago, when Spain passed gay marriage, I wondered why countries that aren't white-dominant couldn't also do gay marriage. Seems South Africa is one step closer.
I am truly enjoying the fact that America, with all its liberties and so called freedom, has to now sit back and see, in spaces where their influence is limited, that liberation for queers will inevitably come. While I hate how the mainstream gay community has positioned itself as the next civil rights issue in America, etc., I cannot help but think of how America was one of the last to disallow slavery. In much the same way, human rights and protections for queers will mostly likely show up last in this country as well.
Continuing the global idea, while I know that the National Gay and Lesbian Task Force and most queers are upset at the Vatican's passive fingerpointing to gays as their major problem, I had to laugh that the Vatican itself stated that men could not enter seminaries if they have "deep-seated homosexual tendencies” or support "gay culture".
Finally some recognition! I'm amazed that the Vatican recognizes queers have a culture and that our identities are deep-seated/firmly rooted. All this time I was told I was fucking women because of my own ego, because I was perverse or because some man had done me wrong.
Months ago, when Spain passed gay marriage, I wondered why countries that aren't white-dominant couldn't also do gay marriage. Seems South Africa is one step closer.
I am truly enjoying the fact that America, with all its liberties and so called freedom, has to now sit back and see, in spaces where their influence is limited, that liberation for queers will inevitably come. While I hate how the mainstream gay community has positioned itself as the next civil rights issue in America, etc., I cannot help but think of how America was one of the last to disallow slavery. In much the same way, human rights and protections for queers will mostly likely show up last in this country as well.
Continuing the global idea, while I know that the National Gay and Lesbian Task Force and most queers are upset at the Vatican's passive fingerpointing to gays as their major problem, I had to laugh that the Vatican itself stated that men could not enter seminaries if they have "deep-seated homosexual tendencies” or support "gay culture".
Finally some recognition! I'm amazed that the Vatican recognizes queers have a culture and that our identities are deep-seated/firmly rooted. All this time I was told I was fucking women because of my own ego, because I was perverse or because some man had done me wrong.
Wednesday, June 29, 2005
poc madness
Never did I expect that when I was coming up to San Francisco for this incredible POC writers gathering that there would be such pleito/misunderstanding/change within the writing group I face at home.
We've introduced a new person to the writing group. It does not bother me that she is white. While that did cross my mind, that crossing was more of an observation, not a thought meant to change or question the group's makeup. More than anything, I was and am excited about her work - she has a unique/playful/intelligent voice with a deep understanding/empathic nature which comes through in her work. She's solid. Another writer, however, a white woman, brought up the issue of race.
And so I found myself having to address the issue because I am the only poc person there and because I was the one who wanted this writing group in the first place, planting the idea in another member's mind and because I thought it was going to be a simple dialogue via email. I should have known better. Race can't carefully be discussed by email. Hell the dialogue from the first exchange ever on this planet is still going on with our antepasados. Nunca para.
But let me just say something : no matter what the "other" may mean (ethnicity, gender, sexual orientation, class, etc.) in talks of inclusion, never try to support or second that other's experience with your own (if you are not of that "other"). Why can't it be enough to hear the experience of those who live the life within their body, who are viewed bodily as living that life, and who must face the hardships associated with otherness?
It never works to bring out stories from high school, work discrimination, how much ally work experience you have or pointing out still another way to be "other" - Lord, let's address one thing at a time.
And this is crazy because I was fine with all the white women in the group. In terms of discussing racism and ethnicity inclusivity, I thought only of continued growth for the group. I thought of questioning, for ourselves as a group, why dominant culture does not foster poc writer/artist voices. And we can admit we are looking for a certain level of craft and ability in the writers who would join our group but maybe mentorship or support of writers who haven't had access to our background or training within the arts is needed. And maybe, as a group, we can foster that growth - take new steps.
Instead, it has turned into a larger issue. The group's changing, yes. And that's not a bad thing but instead of trying to address this by comparing oppressions, we need to more actively live to include and maybe change our ideals for future members of the group.
I'm going through this when I'm far away from my group, unable to see their faces, and immersed, luxuriously, within a very different dynamic - a poc-driven/poc-specific writing group. A fellow poet in my morning class, Robyn, and I were talking about this all when the instructor heard the discussion.
Wouldn't you know it became a discussion on race and class and how we identify (the old argument: as writers of color or as writers who are also of color), and how our culture and background informs and motivates and participates within our writing. So, if we are queer and poc, does the queerness and poc come through actively into every poem? No, but it does color the world we write about and live in.
My instructor looked right at me and said "Stand your ground." I have to acccept how I'm feeling. Really listen then make my choices. Maybe it's good I'm far away. Right now I'm feeling like walking through a sugarcane field with a machete, ready to burn the ground to get ready for new crops. I should wait the next couple of days and see what clarity comes through first.
We've introduced a new person to the writing group. It does not bother me that she is white. While that did cross my mind, that crossing was more of an observation, not a thought meant to change or question the group's makeup. More than anything, I was and am excited about her work - she has a unique/playful/intelligent voice with a deep understanding/empathic nature which comes through in her work. She's solid. Another writer, however, a white woman, brought up the issue of race.
And so I found myself having to address the issue because I am the only poc person there and because I was the one who wanted this writing group in the first place, planting the idea in another member's mind and because I thought it was going to be a simple dialogue via email. I should have known better. Race can't carefully be discussed by email. Hell the dialogue from the first exchange ever on this planet is still going on with our antepasados. Nunca para.
But let me just say something : no matter what the "other" may mean (ethnicity, gender, sexual orientation, class, etc.) in talks of inclusion, never try to support or second that other's experience with your own (if you are not of that "other"). Why can't it be enough to hear the experience of those who live the life within their body, who are viewed bodily as living that life, and who must face the hardships associated with otherness?
It never works to bring out stories from high school, work discrimination, how much ally work experience you have or pointing out still another way to be "other" - Lord, let's address one thing at a time.
And this is crazy because I was fine with all the white women in the group. In terms of discussing racism and ethnicity inclusivity, I thought only of continued growth for the group. I thought of questioning, for ourselves as a group, why dominant culture does not foster poc writer/artist voices. And we can admit we are looking for a certain level of craft and ability in the writers who would join our group but maybe mentorship or support of writers who haven't had access to our background or training within the arts is needed. And maybe, as a group, we can foster that growth - take new steps.
Instead, it has turned into a larger issue. The group's changing, yes. And that's not a bad thing but instead of trying to address this by comparing oppressions, we need to more actively live to include and maybe change our ideals for future members of the group.
I'm going through this when I'm far away from my group, unable to see their faces, and immersed, luxuriously, within a very different dynamic - a poc-driven/poc-specific writing group. A fellow poet in my morning class, Robyn, and I were talking about this all when the instructor heard the discussion.
Wouldn't you know it became a discussion on race and class and how we identify (the old argument: as writers of color or as writers who are also of color), and how our culture and background informs and motivates and participates within our writing. So, if we are queer and poc, does the queerness and poc come through actively into every poem? No, but it does color the world we write about and live in.
My instructor looked right at me and said "Stand your ground." I have to acccept how I'm feeling. Really listen then make my choices. Maybe it's good I'm far away. Right now I'm feeling like walking through a sugarcane field with a machete, ready to burn the ground to get ready for new crops. I should wait the next couple of days and see what clarity comes through first.
Friday, June 10, 2005
privacy/life/changes
Part of why I started this blog was to find the strength in my voice. Part was to process without killing off my friends with my constant search for answers to the changes happening at the time. Part, yes, was ego.
While I've been busy with gay pride and other work duties, and the JAMS Spread fundraiser really kicked my butt but I'm feeling good. The lack of writing isn't entirely because of these issues. I've been truly living it and so I haven't wanted to stop, analyze and put down my well-planned thoughts. I wanted more of the living. Fuck, I deserve it.
Little Lion's at my mother's home for a couple of weeks for the summer so I've been working more to prepare for my vacation time, and working on a manuscript. I've been hanging out with someone and it's been an interesting experience but, for once, I don't want to talk about it. I'm feeling incredibly fortunate in that I've been meeting a lot of women who truly are what they say they are and give what they say they can. La Deb, in particular, has been incredibly sweet.
I appreciate the wave of good women coming around me because the last few weeks saw me dealing with Cliffy's inconsistencies and her eventual realization she's not ready for a relationship, as well as Ya Vez's newfound rose-tinted glasses. She professes change and I can support that but only after I got past the hurt of her again acting/looking/behaving like she did when we first started going out (this time for someone else) did I realize change is not the outside stuff.
I remember realizing this when she came to the house wearing some purple lacey shirt and told me she was in touch with her femme side now. That's as true as trans women saying they are women (within societal contexts) - no, I'm not dissing the women but you don't become a woman (or a femme) overnight - that's true for genetic women too. It's culture/persona/spirit that must signify our identifiers and the change is slow. Ya Vez looked a little like a drag performer wearing that lace and it's because, beneath that, she was still the power-dominant person. A friend of mine told me long ago that she isn't lesbian - she's an agressor.
Last night was Fandango, the pride dance allgo hosts and there was so much gorgeousness. Besides that, Cliffy showed. While I can't say she can't attend, it seemed the cosmos was asking for a bump-in-to because I actually bumped in to her and said excuse me before realizing it was her. I was going to walk away after saying hello but thought it was rude to do so. It was difficult to see her because I feel like I want to tell her something but can't even imagine what words would come and what those words might be.
All in all, my writing is again moving. Mostly, it's processing stuff so it's not all good - it makes me happy to be writing it, nonetheless.
The dance was great - all the jotos rejoicing make my work worth it - but there was also racism - lots of white boys came in and, in finding out they had to pay for a dance, wanted to know who it benefitted. Once told, most of them left. Others haggled over shirts/not wanting to pay full price or claimed sponsorship and wanted freebies or just walked around subjectively inspecting. It's interesting to see how it feels every time allgo does some sort of larger event meant to address the general gay community - it's not selling out but it is feeling less secure. We are out there for mainstream gay consumption and, somehow, exoticized even more.
While I've been busy with gay pride and other work duties, and the JAMS Spread fundraiser really kicked my butt but I'm feeling good. The lack of writing isn't entirely because of these issues. I've been truly living it and so I haven't wanted to stop, analyze and put down my well-planned thoughts. I wanted more of the living. Fuck, I deserve it.
Little Lion's at my mother's home for a couple of weeks for the summer so I've been working more to prepare for my vacation time, and working on a manuscript. I've been hanging out with someone and it's been an interesting experience but, for once, I don't want to talk about it. I'm feeling incredibly fortunate in that I've been meeting a lot of women who truly are what they say they are and give what they say they can. La Deb, in particular, has been incredibly sweet.
I appreciate the wave of good women coming around me because the last few weeks saw me dealing with Cliffy's inconsistencies and her eventual realization she's not ready for a relationship, as well as Ya Vez's newfound rose-tinted glasses. She professes change and I can support that but only after I got past the hurt of her again acting/looking/behaving like she did when we first started going out (this time for someone else) did I realize change is not the outside stuff.
I remember realizing this when she came to the house wearing some purple lacey shirt and told me she was in touch with her femme side now. That's as true as trans women saying they are women (within societal contexts) - no, I'm not dissing the women but you don't become a woman (or a femme) overnight - that's true for genetic women too. It's culture/persona/spirit that must signify our identifiers and the change is slow. Ya Vez looked a little like a drag performer wearing that lace and it's because, beneath that, she was still the power-dominant person. A friend of mine told me long ago that she isn't lesbian - she's an agressor.
Last night was Fandango, the pride dance allgo hosts and there was so much gorgeousness. Besides that, Cliffy showed. While I can't say she can't attend, it seemed the cosmos was asking for a bump-in-to because I actually bumped in to her and said excuse me before realizing it was her. I was going to walk away after saying hello but thought it was rude to do so. It was difficult to see her because I feel like I want to tell her something but can't even imagine what words would come and what those words might be.
All in all, my writing is again moving. Mostly, it's processing stuff so it's not all good - it makes me happy to be writing it, nonetheless.
The dance was great - all the jotos rejoicing make my work worth it - but there was also racism - lots of white boys came in and, in finding out they had to pay for a dance, wanted to know who it benefitted. Once told, most of them left. Others haggled over shirts/not wanting to pay full price or claimed sponsorship and wanted freebies or just walked around subjectively inspecting. It's interesting to see how it feels every time allgo does some sort of larger event meant to address the general gay community - it's not selling out but it is feeling less secure. We are out there for mainstream gay consumption and, somehow, exoticized even more.
Friday, May 27, 2005
la querida syndrome
Overall, it's best Cliffy and I end our doll house scenario because she assumed what it was I wanted. When what I want is community and a relationship needn't look like all the others - carbon copies of straight marriage.
I can't see myself playing "la querida", that figure in latino culture that makes the world go round. The one the male/masculine goes to when they need some loving and little trouble. I realize, in seeing my own daughter play with her girl friends that butch/femme is natural. It's the ideas attributed to those identifiers which create unequal scenarios. Better to search for equal relationships built on sexual connection. I don't feel like playing house, bringing meals to my butch and rubbing her feet when she's tired. Damned if I'm not tired too.
---
I get frustrated with women who, because of the way we are placed/viewed in this society, we must forget out own drives and follow some dominant idea. I get more frustrated when it's women I care about and love, who cannot do what they need to do for themselves. Who spend their life waiting to start life.
There is some old white guy who talked about the craft of writing - he said that we practice our work over and over again waiting for the theatre curtain to come up only to realize it's been up all along.
I can't see myself playing "la querida", that figure in latino culture that makes the world go round. The one the male/masculine goes to when they need some loving and little trouble. I realize, in seeing my own daughter play with her girl friends that butch/femme is natural. It's the ideas attributed to those identifiers which create unequal scenarios. Better to search for equal relationships built on sexual connection. I don't feel like playing house, bringing meals to my butch and rubbing her feet when she's tired. Damned if I'm not tired too.
---
I get frustrated with women who, because of the way we are placed/viewed in this society, we must forget out own drives and follow some dominant idea. I get more frustrated when it's women I care about and love, who cannot do what they need to do for themselves. Who spend their life waiting to start life.
There is some old white guy who talked about the craft of writing - he said that we practice our work over and over again waiting for the theatre curtain to come up only to realize it's been up all along.
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