Racial Identity

As many people are aware, February is Black History Month. Now, I’m not down for a specific month or day which celebrates a particular minority. To me, that’s like saying the minority shouldn’t be recognized the rest of the time. It’s a sign that we still have so much work to do and that so many people are unaware of the implications of race in our society. My husband just told me that he didn’t even know racism and slavery existed before he moved to America. He was born and raised in Ukraine, coming over to the States at age 14, and never even saw a person of color before. He also likes to harp on me about how it’s more about culture, than about race, as that’s what he was taught, but we’re getting there. He’s starting to see more and more. Anyway.

For Black History Month our local university, Portland State, held a big event. There was a speaker and Soul food and some local artists. It was pretty amazing. Well, the artists were. It was during this event, or rather the three or four times I welled up with tears, that I realized I identify most with the Black culture. Don’t misunderstand me. I am not Black, that I know, and I will never understand what it is to be Black. However, we do share a lot of the same issues. Perhaps it is because I grew up in the South, and while us Southerners have a reputation for not being the most racially accepting people we still were at the forefront of Slavery. I’m not bragging about that. My point is that something good did stem from the horrific act of Slavery. The South is very well populated with Black culture. I speak of Atlanta specifically, which is where I was born, though Georgia is not the only Southern state by far to have a large Black population. This means all my life I was in the Black community. Black people were my neighbors, my friends, my lovers, my companions. And while my family is racist, despite their insistence otherwise, I never was. Instead, I saw a culture which was like home to me. The same way I feel about finding Judaism and asexuality, as though it is where I belong.

This realization is terrifying to me on so many levels. I know when people look at me they see a White woman. Though this is not how I see myself, I am not blind or stupid. And thus I wonder if this culture that I find at home in will find a home with me. Will people accept me? Will I be allowed to make friends, participate, commiserate, love? I think this is something I was trying to express in my Feminism, Privilege, Race and Other Stuff post. I have come to understand that “White People” who don’t just allow racist jokes, or racist policies, or racist whatever to pass us by without comment or assistance to change are generally not the “White People” being spoken about. I think that is what Black writers mean when they say “White People” shouldn’t feel ashamed or as though they’ve sinned. However, it becomes really hard to remind one’s self that they are not being included in a general subset like “White People” when one knows that they are seen as a “White Person”. When I read line after line about what “White People” do that is racist, or unhelpful or prejudicial, it becomes really frustrating. I am flippantly and sarcastically told that I deserve a cookie if I mention that I am not one of those “White People”.

And I understand, I do. I represent a race that has dominated, oppressed, tortured, ridiculed, shamed, murdered, raped, and so many other offenses I can’t even count, the Black race and many other races. I understand that there is a lot of emotion and tension built up on the subject. I understand that I can’t see every racial oppression and that things that affect Black people won’t affect me. However, I want to be able to stand with the people I love and feel the most connected with and fight the battles that need to be fought. When I put my fist in the air as a symbol of revolution and empowerment, I hope that the people of color around me will know I mean it with all my heart. I hope I will be able to show that I’m not just another privileged White Person trying to save the brown women from the brown men. I’m not a missionary trying to convert.

Does that make sense to anyone else? I know I will always be seen as White, because that is what my skin color says, even if my heart and soul speak differently. Is there a place in the world for someone like me?

A Question for Debate

It is argued (and is the opinion of this blogger) that it should be sociably acceptable to identify with a gender that is not the one a person was born with, and one should be able to become that gender if they desire. Can, and should, the same be said for race?

Feminism, Priviledge, Race, and Other Stuff

I am Jewish. My people were ostracized, murdered, raped, beaten, enslaved, starved, branded, insulted, and completely out of control. My people still are murdered, raped, beaten, branded, insulted, discriminated against and they still have little control. In America, we are still without the ability to worship as we wish and not be made to feel ashamed. Jewish slangs still run wild, statements of a false messiah still shoved in our faces with “In G-d We Trust” on the currency we’re forced to use, a court system which requires us to swear on The New Testament to show our truthfulness, and the inability to wear our religious symbol, the Star of David, without being called heretics or witches. It is not okay to be Jewish in this society.

I am Native American. My people were enslaved, beaten, raped, murdered, starved, insulted, ostracized. They were forced off their lands and made to conform to the ideology of the settlers. They were stripped of their religion, clothing, education, social structure, and in essence, everything and forced to conform to ideals which they didn’t believe in. In America, we still are without these basic rights packaged into the “American Dream”. We live on reservations, and are “given” land out of the goodness of the government in which we can “be free” as we were all those years before the settlers came.

I am Fat. My people are insulted, beaten, raped, ostracized, and publicly ridiculed. We are lab rats where scientists strive to medically “fix” us, and shame into hating our very existence. We mutilate, torture, starve, neglect, and otherwise abuse ourselves, even when our captures stop, because we are told that we are wrong. We go out into the world every day and know people cross the street to avoid being around us, that women rush home to vomit what they’ve eaten because the idea of being us is terrifying, and that we are considered diseased.

I am a Woman. My people are insulted, beaten, raped, ostracized, regulated, enslaved, branded, starved, and have little to no autonomy. We have been subjected to this for ages. We have no say so over what goes into our body, nor what comes out. We are schooled to believe we cannot exist without a male counterpart, and that if we dare try to go against this education then we deserve whatever happens to us. We are ignored by the medical community, and any illness that just happens to pop up is considered due to hysteria, lack of childbirth, lack of marriage, lack of make-up, lack of hairspray, lack of femininity.

I am a Human Without Sexual Orientation. I am not attracted to a specific gender or sexual reproductive organs, I fall in love based on the soul attached to the body. My people are ignored at whatever lengths are necessary. If, by chance, we force attention upon ourselves then we are beaten, raped, murdered, insulted, and pushed back into the shadows with every fiber that people can muster. We cannot share intimate gestures with our partners, unless our couplehood can be seen as heterosexual in nature. Our lovers cannot match their bodies to their souls without being questioned, regulated, violated, governed and “allowed”. We cannot be who we are without being put under a microscope, studied, prodded, and analyzed.

I am Poor. I live below the poverty line. My mother and father do, my grandparents do, and my entire family line does. My people are ridiculed and punished. We are unable to find the stability to know when our next meal will come, if we will have water to bathe our children before school or to groom before finding a job. We are unable to get help without being made to feel as though we are lazy, worthless, and a drain on society. We are accused of using our children to weasel money out of “good citizens” when we simply cannot afford birth control or do not believe in it. We are uneducated and cannot keep up with the rising demand of degrees in the job market, and therefore are left without adequate pay to support ourselves and our families. We sometimes have no homes and are forced to rely on the kindness of strangers, when those strangers are taught to hate and fear us. We are pitied instead of helped, and ignored instead of understood.

I am also White. This racial identity cancels out the other elements of who I am. I am simply White. At least, that is a lot of what I am hearing from folks. Despite the fact I come from a long line of persecution, suffering, and minorities, I am still White. I am told that I should seek absolution every day for the things my ignorant, hateful, and wrong ancestors did and the things people of my race still do. I am told to be ashamed of my race, because we are granted privilege and freedoms. I am told I will never understand what it is like to be judged based on the color of my skin, and I will never know hardship or misfortune. I am told that everyone is colored by their individual privileges but mine is the worst of all, simply because I was born the way I was.

I am not denying that my race has privilege. America was built on the White ideal. I am not denying that I will never understand what it’s like to be a WOC (Woman of Color). I am not denying that some fucked up shit happened due to some fucked up white people, and I’m not denying that our world is still fucked up.

I am denying being ashamed. I will not be ashamed of my race. I will not spend every day making absolution for the things my forefathers and current fathers (and mothers, and brothers, and sisters and folks I would never want to be related to me in any way) do. I will not feel less simply because someone who has similar characteristics to me does things I do not agree with. I will stand with my fist raised to fight against any wrongdoings I see. I will stand with my White sisters as they fight to put down the apron, be equally compensated for their work, live a life where they are free to be unmarried and/or without child. I will stand with my Black sisters as they fight to live in a neighborhood without violence, to rally against the beauty ideals set down by their oppressors (as if white women have a hard time conforming then black woman aren’t even given a chance), to become educated and accepted in the professional world, and to gain every right that a White person has. I will stand with my Latin sisters and Chinese sisters and Russian sisters. I will stand with my Men who fight to be able to show emotion other than anger and power, who want to wear dresses or “feminine” colors, or want to raise children.

I will stand and I will fight.

So please, stop telling me I should be ashamed of who I am. Stop telling me I do not want “you” in my fight and that I do not include you in what I’m fighting for. Please stop making accusations about who I am and what I am about without knowing me. Please stop grouping me into a stereotype. I understand when you say “white” you really mean “Middle Class White” or even “Middle Class White Man”. I understand you are angry and frustrated. I understand that you are wronged and feel left out. Instead of lashing out at me, insulting, persecuting, please embrace me and let me embrace you. Please join hands with me and fight with me against my oppression and allow me to fight with you against yours. Please remind me of my ignorance when it happens to flare, and let me remind you that suffering is not exclusive to race, religion, gender, or ability.

I will fight with you, I will fight for you. I will listen to your hurt and shame and fury. I will be there for you and I will do whatever I can to become educated, to self-realize, and to alter my thinking process, actions, or misstep if needed. I promise to celebrate you, if we can celebrate our differences.

Just please, stop hurling accusations at me for things I do not do, for things I cannot control, and for people I do not associate with. Please stop believing we are all the same, and that our intention is to misuse, misunderstand and ignore you.