Decolonization

I’m reflecting on last night, where again I have found myself the only non-White person at a party. Something in me urges to write about this experience, I’m trying to be nonplussed about it, but it’s hard. It’s always hard.  I realized today that I’m sick of letting myself be co-opted for whiteboyworld’s entertainment. I know I live in Portland, where it’s 85% Caucasian, but I’m still breathing, still a part of that other percentage that all the White activists ignore when they rail about classism.

Back to the party…I remember when me and two other of my companions sneak our way back up the stairs on a mission masquerading as a smoke break to really clear our heads. Some of the partygoers leak out after us and strike a conversation in the driveway. We all introduce ourselves. Predictably there is an audible silence after me and the quintessential nicewhitegirl says how she likes my name, how it’s a cool name. Oh yay, the tokenism has begun. At least they didn’t ask me where I was from. I just smile awkwardly and that’s the last time I speak directly to anyone I don’t previously know at this shindig. I realize it’s time to go when some newcomers have a side conversation about what’s the PC term for a Native American while one of them is wearing some Urban Outfitters shit with a “Navajo” design fluttering above her tiny midriff.

I can’t stand this world. I feel like more analogously Caucasian faces and thought-patterns are slowly blotting me out.  I’m tired of being the only coloured person at the party, the only Latino in the “Hispanic” food section of Fred Meyers, the only guy on my block who rocks a skullcap. I’m not a token, I’m not going to be colonized for someone else’s mental well being because they have a friend that is queer/of colour/Jewish etc. I’m not going to teach you a pithy lesson from my homeland; I’m not going to teach you Spanish.

Yes, I am going to be offended by your racist good intentions. I’m going to talk back; I’m going to correct your perceptions. I’m going to make you mad, I’m going to dismantle your co-options, and I’m going to throw your world for a loop. I’m not going to sit here and let you blot me out for this anti-septic, White, bourgeois vision of what you think your community should be. Fuck that noise.

I’m decolonizing that shit.

Gay is NOT the "New Black"

Although the hubbub has died down around the catchphrase that so-called GLBTQ activists coined, “Gay is the new Black”, I feel like now I can coherently address the issues around it from my perspective as a queer-identified person of colour. 

The problem with this phrase, other than the obvious denigration of the Black experience, centres on choice. No, not the choice that the rabid Christian right is always squawking about…I am not talking about the choice to be GLBTQ, because as any educated person would know…it’s biological. I am talking about the choice to come out and identify oneself in the public sphere as GLBTQ.  This is key.

People of colour do not choose to identify as people of colour, we don’t “come out of the closet” so to speak about being Black, Latino, Asian etc. It is easily identifiable by our skin, our hair or our speech patterns among other things. It is written upon us for all to see. This is the difference between being a person of colour and being GLBTQ. Arguably you cannot “see” GLBTQ.

Identity politics aside, being identified as person of colour is not a choice. (White) GLBTQ people have a choice and the privilege to come out and be identified as GLBTQ. Those of us who are not White, and regardless of our sexuality, do not have that privilege. Therein lies the difference and should point out the issue in claiming that “gay is the new Black.” Black is still Black and the last time I checked, the civil rights struggle for racial equality was far from over.

Under the Table (a Tale of S. W. B.)

I don’t like screaming the r word, I really don’t. I like giving people the benefit of the doubt, I swear! I don’t want to be seen as the Cassandra that is cursed so that no one listens to her warnings.  I understand that people get tired of talking about it…but that’s complacency you know. It is just an excuse for complacency.

Anyway, I was downtown last afternoon, more specifically in the Pearl District (see: Gentrification Vs. Development) waiting for an interview at an art college when I decided to kill some time while I waited by going into Sur La Table. This place is a hoity-toity kitchenware store right across from Powell’s books, catering mostly to upper-echelon foodies and culinary hobbyists. They even have cooking classes.  There only other location in the area is in Lake Oswego.  Should have been my first warning, right? Mistake No.1.

Whatever. I’m dumb like that.

I walked in and was immediately but passively accosted by the phenomenon I (not so) fondly refer to as “Shopping While Black”, or SWB. This is related to the phenomenon known as Driving While Black. Basically, when one walks into a “finer” shopping establishment and does not fit the nice-rich-White- lady/gentleman stereotype, one is subject to this phenomenon. It can manifest as employees following you around the store, being overeager to direct you to a particular section of the store (clearance, for instance), positioning themselves between you and the exit or even telling you that they don’t carry “those kinds of items here.” Yeah, I’ve heard that before too. 

So at Sur La Table, the second I walk in, a blonde NWL comes right up to me to ask if I can be helped with anything. Normally I just say no, but this time I asked about frying pans (Mistake No. 2) and she directed me to said section, and explicitly pointed out the two-for-one deal. As if. She hovers a bit, till finally I kindly and passively let her know that I’m just browsing and she can fuck of somewhere else. I’ve already been subjected to two examples of SWB, but then I notice immediately that she wanders away to the end of the display case-created “hall” where she positions herself in the way of main exit, pretending not to be watching me. Right. Like I don’t know what she’s doing. Loss prevention my ass.

At this point I am pissed off and definitely not going to buy their overpriced Scandinavian cookware. I walk around from the pans, wipe my hands on a few baking trays out of spite and then continue around to the main exit so as to not walk by this NWL. She, of course, pops out from her completely obvious station as Guarder Against the Poor in Our Store (did that make you chuckle?) and wishes me a nice day.

I didn’t even look at her. Bitch.

Normally I get over occurrences of SWB after a few hours and a few cigarettes. I woke up however, a day later, still pissed off. I ranted on the phone to my mother about it, who has resigned herself already to the fact that this isn’t ever going to change. She suggested dressing up super nice and just trying to interact with the same employee to teach her a lesson. I, in turn, wanted to call up rant at the manager, lie and say that I was a relative of Ina Garten (the Barefoot Contessa) because, 1) being half-Jewish I decided that we were related and 2) that she would never support Sur La Table again after I related this experience to her. 

In the end, this being untrue and probably unhelpful to my blood pressure and karmic state, I decided to just give them a nasty YELP review and write this blog.

The End.

untitled

Nasty snares, stares
Milkmaid complex
Poisonous smile


I can't deal
With your evil
Incandescence

Gentrification vs. "Development"

There is nothing that makes my blood boil more than gentrification.

Today on my lunch break, I was listening to a conversation my coworkers were having about the Alberta neighborhood. One of the managers lives near there. He called it the 'hood. Now, Alberta has been gentrified out of the ass since the late 90s with upper-middle class (over)educated, 30-something White couples moving in, buying houses and displacing what has been a historically Black neighborhood since the Vanport flooding in the 40s. Now I am all for everyone living together...I mean we're supposed to be a pluralistic society, no?

HOWEVER. This isn't integration. This is just pushing people out of their neighborhoods into crappier areas with less resources and infrastructure. This is especially problematic if you consider how segregated Portland is already. According to census information in Multnomah county, people of color (and working class Whites) are clustered in communities past 82nd Ave where there is a much lower economic level and many families living in bad conditions. The neighborhoods out there suck, basically. It's more dangerous too.

At one point during the conversation, another coworker said rather blithely "I went to that [Alberta] area as a child a few times and its just so developed now." She was implying that all the new White-owned businesses and new condos were improving the neighborhood, that it was more "fun". (Sidebar: Now I like this particular coworker, but she is naive. The worst part is she's a POC like me, but the Whitest one I ever met.)

Anyway...back to the issue. You call it development, I call it gentrification.

Just Say NO!

The News is Bad For Your Health

Damn it. My blood pressure is rising! I know that it is probably in the interest of my mental health and well-being to stop reading the news in the morning when I am opening at work, but I can't seem to help it. It's a little ritual I afford myself to be in the know since I don't have cable or Internet at home. I try to read a variety of sources, both local, national, international and non-English. The local ones get to me the most because I tend to read the comment sections. I really, really need to stop doing that!


Anyway, one of the big stories of this week is the proposed ICE (Immigration and Customs Enforcement) facility to be opened in downtown Portland, near the university and OHSU. First off, let me just say, if you are a POC like me, don't read the damn comment sections about this news article. The point is though, the news is bad for your health. Everyone has an opinion about news articles, and many of them are nasty when it comes to immigration. Racists. Yeah, that's the word of the day...and don't try to call it something else.


I am definitely not for this facility to be opened up, because I am pro-immigrant and pro-America (the ICE is contrary to American beliefs and ideals!) but also because it will change the face of Portland. What happened to the Portland I moved to years ago? Yeah, there's a lot of racial problems here, little racial diversity...but for the most part we all got along. I feel that the opening of an ICE facility will further damage this city. We're supposed to be "progressive" here, so why are all these local anti-immigrant (racists) folks on the net applauding the idea of an ICE facility in Portland to round up "illegals"?


Where is my blood pressure medication!?

Is Your Speech Really Free?

It disturbs me deeply that I live in a country where hate speech (racist, homophobic, sexist etc.) is protected under a "Constitution" as "free speech" and yet decrying a corrupt politician or inhumane corporations is considered, legally, a criminal action.

Slam this (My Bliss)

Who the fuck am I?

I don’t know who I am anymore, this pale ugly stranger

Beady eyes inflamed with a fire nothing can quench

My thirst is eternal like the g-ddamn sun that

Doesn’t boil my fallow skin to beautiful brown like

Days past with seagulls, pelicans and tropical terns flying LOW the planes, the planes are getting closer everyday driving me mad like a horsefly ramming itself against unyielding greasy glass SHATTERING all over the wall after I throw the bottle in a fit of childish yet adult frenzy, FRIENDS where are you other than slipping away and I can’t remember how your voice sounds anymore its been so long yet only as if it were yesterday why haven’t you called I changed my number make a fucking effort because I am worth a damn

DAMN.

I am worth a damn so why do I leave them to rape me everyday?

I am losing my face speaking without accents not speaking in tongues you can understand, you sientes lo que digo? my people where are my people you are NOT my people who the fuck are my people? My people wouldn’t rape me, hate me, snub me, and cut me down to size WHAT the hell is this hi how are you HOW can I transfer your CALL my mother to explain but I can’t speak she don’t get it anymore ANYWAY my throat is caught in they dicks as they…      

Again and again and again.

Again when, when will I be beautiful inside? He reminds me to live instead of die.

I’ve been dying since I turned fifteen, turning green and rotting away from the soul but this boy he gave me my goal to be alive to stay afloat because g-d knows its easier to choke.

So choke on this.            

Choke on my bliss.

Damn.

I am worth a damn.

Yes,

M’am.

How can I help you today?

Racism-induced Exhaustion

I wasn't sure how long the men had been on the train, to be honest. I don't usually pay attention when I am on my way home from work. At some point I had started a short conversation with the two Brazilians nearby mostly because I never get to speak Portuguese in Portland.


Later on I was talking on my phone to a friend, in Spanish, relating to her my day and the neatness of running into Portuguese-speakers on the commute home. As the train pulled into the last stop, my stop, I put my phone away and as I approached the exit heard the loud end of a conversation about how "we should just close the borders and then tell them all to shut up."


My knee-jerk reaction was rage, of course. Those men weren't looking directly at me when they said it...but you know that feeling you get when everyone is talking about you but they're not actually acknowledging your presence nearby? They probably didn't think I even understood English...and I'm not even Mexican. At all. The shocking part was their appearance...they all seemed rather innocuous...for older White men. People are ugly when they think you're not paying attention or that you don't understand what they're saying.


So when my friends or acquaintances (mostly the White ones) whine at me about how they don't understand why these horrible racist things happen to me or around me and that  I "must be hanging out in the wrong areas" or with the "wrong people," I smile now, thinly. I don't have anything to say anymore. I'm too damn tired of experiencing it,  pointing it out, and "discussing" it.

 I just want to know who the hell you're all hanging out with.

Anti-Semitism is Live and Well

'Kay, I'm outing myself as Jewish.
Ironically...tonight is Shabbat, our Jewish holy day. I just finished reading an article by  Melvin Martin, a Sioux Native from the Midwest, about anti-Semitism in North Dakota. He talked about a local mom-and-pop type operation that had been selling Nazi-era memorabilia and souvenirs...including ZYKLON B! (In case you didn't know...that is what they gassed Jews with in the chambres)


Martin also spoke to the fact that anti-Semitism is alive and well. This couple had been selling shit for seven years! He also mentioned the rampant White supremacists in the area.


What really struck me is, this man, with virtually no ties to our community (the Jewish one, I mean), wrote an article decrying the hateful people who wish us dead. It's one of those "we're all in this together" kind of deals that really warms my heart.


Most of the time I am afraid people have forgotten WWII and what Hitler's government tried to do to us...especially with all the modern Israel problems (don't get me started on liberal anti-Semitism masquerading as anti-Israeli sentiments).  I think it does a grand disservice to EVERYONE that racism and anti-Semitism is a thing of the past.


I am very thankful that Mr. Martin has noticed that there is plenty anti-Semitic racism still alive and well in this country. Some say even racism at it's most basic is a thing of the past, what with Obama in power and all...that's just not true.


Anyway, thank you Sir. The Jewish community applauds you.

Portlandia

This happened to me recently, with all good timing considering the new television from IFC about our "fair" city. It's the brain child of Fred Armisen. At one point in an interview about the inspiration for the series, Armisen and Bronstein  refer to Portland as "Whiteland", and how it made an impression on them how white upper-middle class it is.  And then this happened...


Every day at work I walk down to the Urban Grind on my break to buy the 99 cent ginger ale that I need to get me through the rest of the day. On this particular day I walked in and was waiting by the counter while the barista finished making some mocha contraption for this tall, lithe blonde hipster lady. Typical Portland hipster girl attire: boots, pageboy haircut, skinny jeans and some kind of artsy blouse. 


What struck me was that she was talking to the barista about how she had moved here from some other place and how great she found Portland. The barista mentioned that she had moved from California. The hipster girl gushes on about how great Portland is and how she just LOVES it here. She feels so free! 


That's when I had an epiphany. That is what Portland is for these liberal white 20-30 somethings. It is a paradise to "escape" to from their veritable hell of some Republican small town (Midwest, the South, take your pick). Portland is this bastion of liberal culture and free thinkers, oh and eco-awareness (yeah, right!). The thing is though...they're all White and upper-middle class. How are you changing the world by moving to a place that just has people like you, that think like you? Wouldn't it be more beneficial to change the minds of those "Republicans" you dislike so much? What are you really escaping to but another bubble of ignorance? Food for thought.


As for Portlandia, I don't think it's very funny. It does, however, get the stereotypes about Portland spot-on. So if you hate trendy Portland as much as I do, then you should watch an episode just for that.


Cheers!

El Grito

There are somedays living in the Last Bastion of White America when I, surrounded by homogeneity in Powells or my favourite café, want to scream.
Just scream, a note.
Not a word, just a noise.


In this phonetically simple sound, would be reflected my frustration (admittedly sometimes hatred) of what society has created around me. Perhaps I should leave? Some do, some say. However, fleeing does not solve the problem. I would rather enfrentar las cosas con un par de cojones.

Like H. said to me, "If you ignore the problem then it becomes normalized for you."

This shit ain't normal.

What happens to a city once it loses its soul?