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aquabeanUnlike a fair number of other people on my flist I haven't been following the discussion on Cultural Appropriation. And then yesterday, or this morning depending on how you look at it, ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
wordsofastory put up an excellent discussion of writing and cultural identity and suddenly I was spurred to write a response of my own (Brigdh I promised you a letter, didn't I?). Except. Except I don't know where to write it from.
You see, I have a problem. It's a cultural problem. It's also a racial problem. How about if we start by me telling you a little story...
Two women sit, watching a dinner party break up into smaller conversations.
One of them is small and thin, her hair short and curled, the white of it soft glowing. Everything one would expect of a grandmother. The other is slightly taller, a few years older, but she carries herself with more edge, her hair, while stylishly cut, is a mottled mix of grey and light brown. She speaks first.
"Marion, I've heard you had some exciting news about Michael."
Marion straightens her skirt and smiles. There is an apologetic quirk to the corner of her mouth. "Yes, we have. Kay, do you remember Eva, that nice little Mexican girl he’s been seeing?"
"Of course, you said she seemed very nice."
"Well, they’ve gotten engaged." And Marion smiles and waits, with her hands in her lap, as one of her oldest friends tries to process this new information.
"Oh. Well, that's wonderful!" Kay smiles, her voice a strained whisper, and she leans closer. "But Marion, you do realized that if they get married, your grandchildren will be half-breeds."
Unsure of how to respond Marion only nods, smiling uneasily.
Later she tells her son and he laughs, because he thinks this is absolutely brilliant.
From the day I was born my dad called me, then later my younger sister, his little half-breed.
It's a funny story, and true, but for all it's humour (and trust me, we think it's a great story. My sister and I tell it all the time) the are cultural issues showing in this one brief exchange in 1979 that still trip me up 27 years later.
Here. I'm going to give you a little more background.
I'm the oldest of two daughters. Two girls who look a whole lot more like our Zapotec indian mother than we do like our tall skinny white surfer guy father. We grew up in a neighborhood where we were the only non-white folk on our street.
Bear and I are smart kids. We both did well in school, played sports and took part in the arts, even got into good colleges -- Bear having done much better than I did, getting to turn down Yale of all places -- and yet, even now, people seem surprised by my articulateness. They want to know the college that I graduated from (go Kenyon) and how I came to have the skills I have (sheer good fortune) and can not seem to connect my visible ethnicity with any of either of these things.
Until they discover that my father is white.
"Oh," they say, "He must have been very supportive." As though white fathers have the market on supporting their children cornered.
"It's my mother, actually." I usually respond, "My dad's great, and I wouldn't have gotten into college without him, but none of us could do anything without Mama."
Most often, they nod and give a sort of smile, because a woman crediting her mother is acceptable enough, no matter your mother's colour.
Should my actual skin colour come up later in the conversation though, they'll often try and give me a way out. I might mention my family history, that my mother is a cleaning lady and my father a gardener-landscaper, and then smile at the humour of living a stereotype.
"Well, you know, I never really thought you were Mexican when I first met you. Ethnic, sure, but not Mexican." And it's said like some kind of offer, a way out. I could be a "better" minority if I chose. Something less menial, someone more economically acceptable.
"Ah," I say, "I always thought it was pretty obvious, but, maybe that's just that I look like everyone else back in Oaxaca."
They always seem to feel bad for me that I don't lay more claim to my whiteness, or to the "high yellow" nature of my skin.
Being bi-racial is something that isn't spoken of often, or if it is, its almost entirely in the context of those for whom one parent is black and the other white. It's very much an issue of actual physical colour. And while I don't mean to imply that there are no cultural difference inherent in multi-racial families, these are people who, generally, come from similar backgrounds, who were raised with the same tv shows, in the same language and with at least a few of the same social expectations.*
To be the bi-racial, bi-cultural child of a first generation immigrant is something entirely different.
And if I chose to write, to tell a story, am I appropriating from white culture if my characters are white? What about Mexican culture? I was born and raised in the US, so despite my appearance I'm not technically one who can speak to the Mexican Experience.
Except that I have duel citizenship, and have grown up going back and forth between my home here in SD and Oaxaca. Take that kids in high school who told me I was the "whitest Mexican [they] know."
But then again, my Spanish is conversational at best, and even though my mother's family is Zapotec indian not a one of them has spoken Zapotec in at least three generations.*
Lo for I am a mess of culture and language and when I tell a story it's bound to be about the people involved, regardless of where they came from or look like.
However on the telling of stories of those who aren't considered part of the culturally dominant majority,wordsofastory said something very interesting:
I got so annoyed with every single person writing about a white, middle class, suburban character who was living in Ohio that I deliberately wrote about an extremely poor Middle Eastern character and set it in an unnamed location, but which was clearly not Ohio. And nearly every single one of the comments I got back wanted to know- how does this character feel about her race? Why didn't you talk more about her race? I want to know how her race affects the way she feels about this other character. I was furious. Because this was not a story about race. I mean, obviously, the details were different than if the character had been white, or black, or Asian, but at its base, it was a romance story. And the feeling I got from everyone else was- well, the only point of having a character of another race is so you can talk about that race. Why bother otherwise?
And suddenly I'm torn all over again. Because, yes! But also, yes!
Let's take this in sections, shall we? (Really, you people are smarter than I am, but I'll just confuse myself if I got at this from too many directions at once.) To start with, there's the issue of a white person writing about non-white culture. To this I say, Rock On***, and that's pretty much it.
Because in my opinion the issue of who writes stories featuring cultural minorities is less of an issue than the fact the reaction of Brigdh's class seems to question the very validity of telling those stories at all.
Reading her story, my knee-jerk reaction was very much like hers. Yeah! Why does it always have to be about race? Why can't some just tell a story where the characters happen to be brown, or yellow or purple for all that it matters? Which is a good and a right reaction. No one wants to know the reaction of a white teenager falling in love with another white teenager. Stories are allowed to focus on issues of class, social and economic disparity, whether or not her dad will let her go to prom.
Ah! Some will say. But those stories always have kids of colour in them as well! We don't ask about their reaction to be one of the racial or cultural minority! See, we're tolerant and understanding.
True enough. The side kick is rarely asked to react to more than whether the hero is a fool or not and possibly to die nobly for his cause. But that's neither here nor there. What is at stake is that if it were two people of different cultures coming together it would be expected that race be a major issue for the two of them. Race, culture, seems to be seen as something that has to be "dealt with" and as such must become a singular focus in stories featuring minority characters. (Note: I use the word "minority" here in the laziest sense of the word. Not to indicate that these are people of a lesser status, but simply as an alternative to the previously used "cultural minority" which very obviously signified an issue of numbers and dominant cultural norms.) Even if the story also revolves around more traditional plot situations (Will she date him? Can he overcome the villain?), the dramatics of a character's relationship to their racial make-up tend to take up such a front seat to other arenas of life that an almost infinite number of subtleties are lost to this desire to "deal." In real life, however, this is rarely the case. People are people above and before they are their skin colour, or nationality, or religious affiliation.
Again, a personal anecdote. (We're going to ignore completely the complexities of my being gay for now, because that's just-- yes. For later.) My girlfriend and I have been dating for a little over six months now. We've known each other quit a bit longer than that and all in all we're quite pleased with how everything's turned out. Not once. Ever. Have I thought, "Oh no. She's white. I'm Mexican. This will never work! My cultural upbringing will create vast and daunting issues in our relationship." I honestly don't know that it's come up in conversation between us outside of my ranting on about the issues immigrants in the US are facing today. And then she's sympathetic and lovely and I adore her. She could care less about my racial make-up outside of a lingering jealousy that I tan better than she does.
If Brigdh were to have written our story and turned it in I fear her classmates would have been just as disappointed. Ours is just a love story, nothing more. It's not complex or dramatic. We're happy with each other and see no eminent threat to that happiness anywhere on our horizon. Certainly the last thing her parents would complain about is that I'm Brown. And my mother thinks the Girl is a lovely young woman who should eat more because she's a little thin. That's it. My thoughts and reactions to my own ethnicity factor into this particular story, not at all.
But that's this story.
Which leads me to a point where I can actually say there are horns on my dilemma, as opposed it simply being me preparing to be hoist on my own petard.
Because the whole reason I'm writing this at all, really, is because there aren't stories out there about someone like me reacting to the world around her. Or rather, those that are out there are few and far between. Which means that, yes! Write me stories about young women of colour reacting to a world where they aren't the norm or the ideal or-- but then you enter a realm that brings back the question of how needed these stories are. Wouldn't it be better to simply stick to telling stories that include characters of colour, that ignores the implications of race and culture in favor of an idealized colourblind world? A brilliant plan that somehow still leaves me with a lingering sense of uneasiness.
One of the greatest beauties of the written word is that it gives each one of us the opportunity to share our own story, our personal history with untold numbers of others. Someone has to tell these stories, someone out there has to be willing to give voice to the events that take place outside the mainstream radar. And yes, I'm fairly certain I'm speaking to the choir here, but the issue still stands. Despite the difficulty and the potential for discomfort, anger and even misinterpretation writing about and telling the stories of these issues and people are vital to giving voice to the changing face of the national and international identity.
In the beginning I tried writing this reaction piece without all the odd little family stories and personal anecdotes. The harder it got the more I realized that there was a reason for this. I was giving into exactly what it was that I'd was trying to argue against. Ignoring my own story in favor of making comfortable those who might be offended by my "coloured" view of what I'm essentially labeling a "white" world. Which brings me right back to my opening conundrum.
Can I, as someone raised by a white father in a lower middle class (but still middle class-ish) home in Southern California really ever be outside the "white mainstream"? My English is completely without accent. On the phone my ethnicity is completely a non-issue****. Except for my skin tone I don't look a thing like the stereotypical second generation immigrant. It's that pesky skin tone that gets in the way though. And that I've been brought up to be both aware of and proud of where my mother's family comes from. My very awareness of the "otherness" of my appearance would imply that I'm already on the outside.
And so the question remains. Can I be inside and outside? Can my father be white and Mexican by virtue of caring enough? Can I understand white American culture despite only benefiting in a marginalized fashion? Is it right for me to attempt to tell the story of Mexico, of Mexicans, when I have a citizen's love, but an expatriate's experience?
Is it possible for me -- for anyone, really -- to be all things at once?
*Yes, I know I'm making HUGE blanket statements and assumptions, but I'm just speaking from my own experience and that of someone who's been treated as a "woman of colour" ever since she reached Marketable College Age. I'm only talking about the manner in which mainstream American media tends to handle and address the biracial/bicultural issue because, whether we like it or not, it's had a huge impact on the way people from multi-culture or multi-racial families are treated.
My favorite story on this issue is actually from high school when a friend of mine, who played football, ran track and was friends almost exclusively with black kids despite is whiteness, was filling out a standardized testing form and reached the ethnicity portion. The question asked was, "With which ethnicity do you most closely identify?" One of his black friends looked at him and grinned. "You're down with your black self, aren't you?" My companion laughed and checked the bubble for "African-American/Black" and moved on, happy with the truth of his answer.
**On a side note, did they appropriate Spanish culture or assimilate it? This seems to be a question that's come up in several places, but I leave that for later.
***As I've said my father is a white guy. Tall, skiny, blue eyed, white guy. He's also taken to the Oaxacan culture like a fish to water, loving it, learning about, making sure his children were well aware of our roots. He's also writing a novel set there. Do I, as a Oaxacan feel he has the right to do so? Well, yeah. He's lived there. Certainly he's writing with the outsider's perspective of privilege and "forward thinking" but that doesn't change that he wants to put forth an accurate portrayal of one man in Oaxaca. In essence his is a story that says, "If I were from here, if this were my land and my culture, this is what I think I would be like." Not everyone writes like that, but still, it's the thought that the culture being written about is valued that I think is the key here. He loves Oaxaca. If a writer genuinely wants to tell that story then let them. Because these are the people who will take criticism, who will learn from mistakes and misinterpretations and then write more and better.
****"Hi, this is the ------ HR department, Elisa speaking, how can I help you?"
"Hey, this is ------, I'm calling you back about that I-9 form."
"Oh, hi! You had a question about Social Security cards, didn't you?"
"That's right, that's right. One of my people here lost theirs and needs to know how to get a new one."
"No problem. All they're really going to need is a copy of their birth certificate to take to the closest Social Security Office, and they'll be able to fix them right up."
"That's it?"
"Yup!"
"Ha! Great. Heh-- no wonder all those people are always sneakin' across the border! We just make it so easy for 'em."
". . . Ah hah hah, I know. My mom was illegal until I was four, but if she'd known how easy it was I'm sure she would have gotten green card way sooner."
". . ."
"Was there anything else I can do for you?"
"...no."
"You have a good afternoon then!"
"...Uh. Yeah. You too."
wordsofastory put up an excellent discussion of writing and cultural identity and suddenly I was spurred to write a response of my own (Brigdh I promised you a letter, didn't I?). Except. Except I don't know where to write it from. You see, I have a problem. It's a cultural problem. It's also a racial problem. How about if we start by me telling you a little story...
Two women sit, watching a dinner party break up into smaller conversations.
One of them is small and thin, her hair short and curled, the white of it soft glowing. Everything one would expect of a grandmother. The other is slightly taller, a few years older, but she carries herself with more edge, her hair, while stylishly cut, is a mottled mix of grey and light brown. She speaks first.
"Marion, I've heard you had some exciting news about Michael."
Marion straightens her skirt and smiles. There is an apologetic quirk to the corner of her mouth. "Yes, we have. Kay, do you remember Eva, that nice little Mexican girl he’s been seeing?"
"Of course, you said she seemed very nice."
"Well, they’ve gotten engaged." And Marion smiles and waits, with her hands in her lap, as one of her oldest friends tries to process this new information.
"Oh. Well, that's wonderful!" Kay smiles, her voice a strained whisper, and she leans closer. "But Marion, you do realized that if they get married, your grandchildren will be half-breeds."
Unsure of how to respond Marion only nods, smiling uneasily.
Later she tells her son and he laughs, because he thinks this is absolutely brilliant.
From the day I was born my dad called me, then later my younger sister, his little half-breed.
It's a funny story, and true, but for all it's humour (and trust me, we think it's a great story. My sister and I tell it all the time) the are cultural issues showing in this one brief exchange in 1979 that still trip me up 27 years later.
Here. I'm going to give you a little more background.
I'm the oldest of two daughters. Two girls who look a whole lot more like our Zapotec indian mother than we do like our tall skinny white surfer guy father. We grew up in a neighborhood where we were the only non-white folk on our street.
Bear and I are smart kids. We both did well in school, played sports and took part in the arts, even got into good colleges -- Bear having done much better than I did, getting to turn down Yale of all places -- and yet, even now, people seem surprised by my articulateness. They want to know the college that I graduated from (go Kenyon) and how I came to have the skills I have (sheer good fortune) and can not seem to connect my visible ethnicity with any of either of these things.
Until they discover that my father is white.
"Oh," they say, "He must have been very supportive." As though white fathers have the market on supporting their children cornered.
"It's my mother, actually." I usually respond, "My dad's great, and I wouldn't have gotten into college without him, but none of us could do anything without Mama."
Most often, they nod and give a sort of smile, because a woman crediting her mother is acceptable enough, no matter your mother's colour.
Should my actual skin colour come up later in the conversation though, they'll often try and give me a way out. I might mention my family history, that my mother is a cleaning lady and my father a gardener-landscaper, and then smile at the humour of living a stereotype.
"Well, you know, I never really thought you were Mexican when I first met you. Ethnic, sure, but not Mexican." And it's said like some kind of offer, a way out. I could be a "better" minority if I chose. Something less menial, someone more economically acceptable.
"Ah," I say, "I always thought it was pretty obvious, but, maybe that's just that I look like everyone else back in Oaxaca."
They always seem to feel bad for me that I don't lay more claim to my whiteness, or to the "high yellow" nature of my skin.
Being bi-racial is something that isn't spoken of often, or if it is, its almost entirely in the context of those for whom one parent is black and the other white. It's very much an issue of actual physical colour. And while I don't mean to imply that there are no cultural difference inherent in multi-racial families, these are people who, generally, come from similar backgrounds, who were raised with the same tv shows, in the same language and with at least a few of the same social expectations.*
To be the bi-racial, bi-cultural child of a first generation immigrant is something entirely different.
And if I chose to write, to tell a story, am I appropriating from white culture if my characters are white? What about Mexican culture? I was born and raised in the US, so despite my appearance I'm not technically one who can speak to the Mexican Experience.
Except that I have duel citizenship, and have grown up going back and forth between my home here in SD and Oaxaca. Take that kids in high school who told me I was the "whitest Mexican [they] know."
But then again, my Spanish is conversational at best, and even though my mother's family is Zapotec indian not a one of them has spoken Zapotec in at least three generations.*
Lo for I am a mess of culture and language and when I tell a story it's bound to be about the people involved, regardless of where they came from or look like.
However on the telling of stories of those who aren't considered part of the culturally dominant majority,
wordsofastory said something very interesting:I got so annoyed with every single person writing about a white, middle class, suburban character who was living in Ohio that I deliberately wrote about an extremely poor Middle Eastern character and set it in an unnamed location, but which was clearly not Ohio. And nearly every single one of the comments I got back wanted to know- how does this character feel about her race? Why didn't you talk more about her race? I want to know how her race affects the way she feels about this other character. I was furious. Because this was not a story about race. I mean, obviously, the details were different than if the character had been white, or black, or Asian, but at its base, it was a romance story. And the feeling I got from everyone else was- well, the only point of having a character of another race is so you can talk about that race. Why bother otherwise?
And suddenly I'm torn all over again. Because, yes! But also, yes!
Let's take this in sections, shall we? (Really, you people are smarter than I am, but I'll just confuse myself if I got at this from too many directions at once.) To start with, there's the issue of a white person writing about non-white culture. To this I say, Rock On***, and that's pretty much it.
Because in my opinion the issue of who writes stories featuring cultural minorities is less of an issue than the fact the reaction of Brigdh's class seems to question the very validity of telling those stories at all.
Reading her story, my knee-jerk reaction was very much like hers. Yeah! Why does it always have to be about race? Why can't some just tell a story where the characters happen to be brown, or yellow or purple for all that it matters? Which is a good and a right reaction. No one wants to know the reaction of a white teenager falling in love with another white teenager. Stories are allowed to focus on issues of class, social and economic disparity, whether or not her dad will let her go to prom.
Ah! Some will say. But those stories always have kids of colour in them as well! We don't ask about their reaction to be one of the racial or cultural minority! See, we're tolerant and understanding.
True enough. The side kick is rarely asked to react to more than whether the hero is a fool or not and possibly to die nobly for his cause. But that's neither here nor there. What is at stake is that if it were two people of different cultures coming together it would be expected that race be a major issue for the two of them. Race, culture, seems to be seen as something that has to be "dealt with" and as such must become a singular focus in stories featuring minority characters. (Note: I use the word "minority" here in the laziest sense of the word. Not to indicate that these are people of a lesser status, but simply as an alternative to the previously used "cultural minority" which very obviously signified an issue of numbers and dominant cultural norms.) Even if the story also revolves around more traditional plot situations (Will she date him? Can he overcome the villain?), the dramatics of a character's relationship to their racial make-up tend to take up such a front seat to other arenas of life that an almost infinite number of subtleties are lost to this desire to "deal." In real life, however, this is rarely the case. People are people above and before they are their skin colour, or nationality, or religious affiliation.
Again, a personal anecdote. (We're going to ignore completely the complexities of my being gay for now, because that's just-- yes. For later.) My girlfriend and I have been dating for a little over six months now. We've known each other quit a bit longer than that and all in all we're quite pleased with how everything's turned out. Not once. Ever. Have I thought, "Oh no. She's white. I'm Mexican. This will never work! My cultural upbringing will create vast and daunting issues in our relationship." I honestly don't know that it's come up in conversation between us outside of my ranting on about the issues immigrants in the US are facing today. And then she's sympathetic and lovely and I adore her. She could care less about my racial make-up outside of a lingering jealousy that I tan better than she does.
If Brigdh were to have written our story and turned it in I fear her classmates would have been just as disappointed. Ours is just a love story, nothing more. It's not complex or dramatic. We're happy with each other and see no eminent threat to that happiness anywhere on our horizon. Certainly the last thing her parents would complain about is that I'm Brown. And my mother thinks the Girl is a lovely young woman who should eat more because she's a little thin. That's it. My thoughts and reactions to my own ethnicity factor into this particular story, not at all.
But that's this story.
Which leads me to a point where I can actually say there are horns on my dilemma, as opposed it simply being me preparing to be hoist on my own petard.
Because the whole reason I'm writing this at all, really, is because there aren't stories out there about someone like me reacting to the world around her. Or rather, those that are out there are few and far between. Which means that, yes! Write me stories about young women of colour reacting to a world where they aren't the norm or the ideal or-- but then you enter a realm that brings back the question of how needed these stories are. Wouldn't it be better to simply stick to telling stories that include characters of colour, that ignores the implications of race and culture in favor of an idealized colourblind world? A brilliant plan that somehow still leaves me with a lingering sense of uneasiness.
One of the greatest beauties of the written word is that it gives each one of us the opportunity to share our own story, our personal history with untold numbers of others. Someone has to tell these stories, someone out there has to be willing to give voice to the events that take place outside the mainstream radar. And yes, I'm fairly certain I'm speaking to the choir here, but the issue still stands. Despite the difficulty and the potential for discomfort, anger and even misinterpretation writing about and telling the stories of these issues and people are vital to giving voice to the changing face of the national and international identity.
In the beginning I tried writing this reaction piece without all the odd little family stories and personal anecdotes. The harder it got the more I realized that there was a reason for this. I was giving into exactly what it was that I'd was trying to argue against. Ignoring my own story in favor of making comfortable those who might be offended by my "coloured" view of what I'm essentially labeling a "white" world. Which brings me right back to my opening conundrum.
Can I, as someone raised by a white father in a lower middle class (but still middle class-ish) home in Southern California really ever be outside the "white mainstream"? My English is completely without accent. On the phone my ethnicity is completely a non-issue****. Except for my skin tone I don't look a thing like the stereotypical second generation immigrant. It's that pesky skin tone that gets in the way though. And that I've been brought up to be both aware of and proud of where my mother's family comes from. My very awareness of the "otherness" of my appearance would imply that I'm already on the outside.
And so the question remains. Can I be inside and outside? Can my father be white and Mexican by virtue of caring enough? Can I understand white American culture despite only benefiting in a marginalized fashion? Is it right for me to attempt to tell the story of Mexico, of Mexicans, when I have a citizen's love, but an expatriate's experience?
Is it possible for me -- for anyone, really -- to be all things at once?
*Yes, I know I'm making HUGE blanket statements and assumptions, but I'm just speaking from my own experience and that of someone who's been treated as a "woman of colour" ever since she reached Marketable College Age. I'm only talking about the manner in which mainstream American media tends to handle and address the biracial/bicultural issue because, whether we like it or not, it's had a huge impact on the way people from multi-culture or multi-racial families are treated.
My favorite story on this issue is actually from high school when a friend of mine, who played football, ran track and was friends almost exclusively with black kids despite is whiteness, was filling out a standardized testing form and reached the ethnicity portion. The question asked was, "With which ethnicity do you most closely identify?" One of his black friends looked at him and grinned. "You're down with your black self, aren't you?" My companion laughed and checked the bubble for "African-American/Black" and moved on, happy with the truth of his answer.
**On a side note, did they appropriate Spanish culture or assimilate it? This seems to be a question that's come up in several places, but I leave that for later.
***As I've said my father is a white guy. Tall, skiny, blue eyed, white guy. He's also taken to the Oaxacan culture like a fish to water, loving it, learning about, making sure his children were well aware of our roots. He's also writing a novel set there. Do I, as a Oaxacan feel he has the right to do so? Well, yeah. He's lived there. Certainly he's writing with the outsider's perspective of privilege and "forward thinking" but that doesn't change that he wants to put forth an accurate portrayal of one man in Oaxaca. In essence his is a story that says, "If I were from here, if this were my land and my culture, this is what I think I would be like." Not everyone writes like that, but still, it's the thought that the culture being written about is valued that I think is the key here. He loves Oaxaca. If a writer genuinely wants to tell that story then let them. Because these are the people who will take criticism, who will learn from mistakes and misinterpretations and then write more and better.
****"Hi, this is the ------ HR department, Elisa speaking, how can I help you?"
"Hey, this is ------, I'm calling you back about that I-9 form."
"Oh, hi! You had a question about Social Security cards, didn't you?"
"That's right, that's right. One of my people here lost theirs and needs to know how to get a new one."
"No problem. All they're really going to need is a copy of their birth certificate to take to the closest Social Security Office, and they'll be able to fix them right up."
"That's it?"
"Yup!"
"Ha! Great. Heh-- no wonder all those people are always sneakin' across the border! We just make it so easy for 'em."
". . . Ah hah hah, I know. My mom was illegal until I was four, but if she'd known how easy it was I'm sure she would have gotten green card way sooner."
". . ."
"Was there anything else I can do for you?"
"...no."
"You have a good afternoon then!"
"...Uh. Yeah. You too."
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2006-06-03 06:32 am (UTC)Seriously, though, this is what I've been saying. Nobody's saying don't write the stories, not that I've seen in this discussion. Just, you know, be aware of how you're relating to your story, of what your perspective is and where your blindspots may be. And dude, it's my old writing adage again: Write what gets you excited. Write what you love. But make sure you're doing the best you can to portray that thing accurately, whether you're inside it or outside it, and be prepared for the fact that your experience doesn't match everybody's, and if what you're writing is closer to somebody else's lived experience than your own? Dude, listen to what they have to say. Take notes. This is how we learn.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-06-04 05:06 am (UTC)I mean, what happens if I love unicorns and bunnies? I'm not either a unicorn or bunny, but I can write about those. And frankly, both groups are seriously under represented in in the world of horror. Or whatever. Heh.
But seriously, it's about being willing to learn as you write. And most importantly, we need to encourage those people who care enough to bother writing about under represented groups period. Don't complain, write and tell other people to write. Offer to beta. Offer to look for betas. That's a huge part of it.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-06-03 08:18 am (UTC)I notice this a lot more in yaoi/slash works with relative homophobic responses of friends and family to the OTP coming out, because it's something that is always, always included in some form or another. Even if it's acceptance and happiness, it has to be remarked upon by the author because it's significant that the other characters are good people who would never think like those bad people (thus validating the dominance of the bad people's POV).
OMG Half-breed. That is straight from Harry Potter's Death Eater terminology, except twenty years earlier. Feh. I remember my aunt telling my biracial (Mexican and ... "white") cousin that she was lucky to be able to pass for white, because her older brother had darker skin and definitely couldn't. "Your father is a tall Mexican," she mused on "good" qualities he had inherited. How fortunate for him. *facedesk*
(no subject)
Date: 2006-06-04 06:00 am (UTC)HEH. That's right. This is secretly my sly way of admitting my family's real cross-cultural issue is based around the fact that my dad's a muggle and my mom... Well, you met her. XD
(no subject)
Date: 2006-06-03 02:32 pm (UTC)And that, in a nutshell, is why despite the degree to which our society fails to live up to its aspirations, I love America.
Thank you. I was going to write a whole endless thing about all of this, and now I don't have to.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-06-04 06:11 am (UTC)No, thank you for reading. Really, that's the biggest joy of lj for me. It gives folks like me at least a small chance of actually being heard.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-06-03 03:32 pm (UTC)I'm filling out my college applications and I take them downstairs to my mom to make sure I haven't missed anything vital, because it's always good to get a second pair of eyes when doing something like that.
She's reading through them and then...
"Why did you mark 'white/caucasian'?"
"Um...because I am...?"
"You shouldn't. Mark 'Hispanic.' You'll get scholarship and financial aid offers if you do that. And it will help increase your chances of getting in to these schools."
"But, I'm not Hispanic."
"Your father was born in Columbia, his family immigrated when he was fourteen. You are Hispanic enough to mark it on your forms."
"Mom, I don't speak any Spanish. I am fluent in French. We hardly ever see Dad's side of the family. We live in a wealthy white suburb, and have done so for as long as I can remember. I am not Hispanic. I am more Italian than..."
"Sherry, trust me, just do it."
So. Yeah. I understand. And you know what's even the best part of this? I'm actually adopted, and I know I have some German in me somewhere, but I'm not really clear on my background. So which group do I identify with? Like that white guy who hangs out with mainly black guys, I am the opposite. I feel white.
I'm glad you said what you said in the final footnote. Kicks them in the teeth. And will hopefully make them think twice about comments like that...as well as their entire manner of thinking? *crosses fingers*
(no subject)
Date: 2006-06-04 05:45 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-06-04 03:37 pm (UTC)...man. People are...man.
Anyway, I love LJ because it's so colorblind, but at the same time I hate it because it always reminds me of how often I assume people on my flist are white just like me. Even when I remember that you're not.
Anyway, despite the fact that I could've been one of those white girls in your neighborhood, I pretty much agree with you on this whole discussion. :D
(no subject)
Date: 2006-06-15 06:52 am (UTC)It's interesting that the way you talk about this has me thinking less of race than of feminism. Specifically, about the different waves of feminism, which was how I learned of the concept of waves.
Its that:
1st wave - trail-blazers and fighters and revolutionaries
2nd wave - generally the physical or spiritual children of the 1st wave. They reap the benefits of the battles of the first wave, but don't really understand them as well. Tends to preach the value of *battle* more than the values that battle is being fought *for*. ex. Femi-nazi's and hippie protestors
3rd wave - have integrated the benefits, is two steps removed from the battle to the extreme consternation of the 2nd wavers. Many 3rd wave feminists don't identify themselves feminists because when most people say feminism as a dirty word they tend to think of 2nd wavers.
Methinks you are a 3rd wave immigrant or something such. =) You have integrated.
Nevertheless, there's people who haven't, because immigration tends to be a flow or a cycle rather than be in set stages, so there's people around you who may still feel the need to be 'battle-ready'. ::shrugs::