Michelle's Place

Election Solidarity

When I was growing up in the suburbs, inevitably there were times when we lived in areas with very few blacks. When we saw another one, I remember my mom would always smile and wave--and whoever it was would wave in return. I always asked, "who is that, Mommy?"

"I don't know, but we should say 'hi' anyway. Hi!" she would call out, even if we were in our cars and couldn't be heard through the windows. Mom's smile is infectious, anyway; they didn't need to hear us.

It was a time of unparalleled solidarity. No matter what else was going on, when you saw a black person you always smiled and were cordial, and could expect the same in return. There was a sense of, "We made it!" There were few of us, but we were proud and strong--and self-aware in the process.

Of course, white suburbs with few black residents still exist, but "we made it!" has changed to "I made it, now why is this fool smiling at me?!" But today was different.

Every time I go to vote, I carry my history on my back; all those riots, all those years when we couldn't vote (and that includes blacks and women). Even if the election doesn't matter to me, I vote because I can. And today, well today just might have been the last chance my generation has to vote for a black man for president. It's not supposed to matter, but it does.

And the hearty smiles and thumbs-up signs were shared liberally at the polling place, when the nice black lady greeted me with her Obama sign and saw the bumper sticker on my car. But in perhaps the best victory in this historic race, the nice black lady was joined by several other nice people, of various races & ages, all holding their Obama signs, proud and smiling.

The Hilary supporters, on the other hand, frowned most of the time. Ha! Resigned to their fate! Just kidding. :)

Because the Doctor is a Racist B*stard [Why Blacks Aren't Seeking Out Health Care]

I'm on day 5 of my strep throat experience. This is the part where most of the pain has subsided (yay!), and I'm just getting a little of my energy back. Friday was undoubtedly the worst day; the most painful, the most uncomfortable. All of this was compounded by the fact that it's the day I went to the doctor.

Having tested positive for strep, the doctor's first words upon walking into the exam room were, "I don't have to touch you, do I?" It was downhill from there.

He started off normally enough (aside from his completely inappropriate reaction to the strep test), by asking me where I've gone to school and what I studied, what I teach. But it was apparent that he'd already made up his mind about me; inevitably it came out that I studied music of the African Diaspora.  He said, "Why'd you do that? That's an easy topic, something you already know." Because apparently, all black people know everything about all black music ALL OVER THE WORLD.

From there he went on about black music, about the one time he sang gospel ("hey, do you know you sing it without any written music? And it actually sounds good!") and subjecting me to stories of the two or three black people he knows in the world (only slightly different from the "i have lots of black friends" cliché). It was awful.

And the worst part? I just had to take it. I was helpless, sick, devoid of energy, and didn't even have the heart to invent any snappy comebacks, and he knew it. I was sitting there, leaning against the wall, praying for it to be over. Meanwhile, I listened to his inappropriate prattle and his talk of his favorite hobbies and his bad jokes and thinly veiled insults. He also made it clear that he's close friends with someone I work with, so any mention of job stress was out of the question. I can't believe it was only a 15 minute visit.

I've been discriminated against by doctors before, either because I'm overweight, because I'm black, or both. The medical community's discrimination against the overweight is well documented, and anecdotal research seems to suggest that blacks, regardless of size, are subjected to crappy treatment as well.

"Real" research, on the other hand, says that the level of medical treatment blacks get is comparable to that received by whites. But what about emotional & verbal treatment? Doesn't that matter?

It's true that blacks are less likely to seek out treatment in the first place, and the reasons for that are infinitely complex. I know my reason, and I know I'm not the only one who feels this way. Who would want to visit a doctor who's a jerk?

Obama - How Can I Resist?

In my last post, I lamented my own lack of color-blindness with regard to this election, and expressed my disappointment that a candidate whose values match my own will be terribly unlikely to win even the nomination, much less the presidency. Of the two main democratic candidates, Barack has my vote (Come on, do we really want to let the Clinton Soap Opera back into our lives again?).

And he's done it again, winning voters and "surprising" the right-wing media. I can't deny how thrilled I am. Am I playing into stereotypes, the black girl voting for the black candidate? Do I really like Obama on his own merits?

I wonder if the fact that I'm so happy for Obama's success betrays my loyalty a little too much. On one hand, he's clearly charismatic & energetic in a way no one else is, and he has good ideas (whether he'll act on them remains to be seen). I endorse him for all kinds of reasons besides racial solidarity (and the millions of non-blacks who'll vote for him confirm that those reasons exist). But there's nothing like being a member of an oppressed group and watching one of "your own" succeed in a mainstream democratic race. None of us know who Barack really is. I've done the research, and in my analysis, I perceive him to be a genuine person who really has good intentions. Maybe he'll turn out to be something completely different; maybe it's all a mirage. But illusion or not, it feels like a realization of Dr. King's dream, and how can I resist that?

Photo © 2008 by Jim Wilson for the New York Times.

Halloween as Cultural Exercise

This weekend, I went to a Halloween party--my very first one! Ever since the age of 7, when I decided that handing out candy would be more fun than begging, I have generally eschewed this holiday because I do not like the glorification of gross things. But of course, it can be a creative holiday as well and does not have to be gross. Once I was invited the party and began planning my costume (as a Cleopatra-ish Egyptian princess), I was really excited about it and came up with lots of additional Halloween ideas I'd like to try someday:

- 1970s black power activist: because I've always wanted an excuse to wear an afro and a dashiki. Right on.
- Nefertiti - more authentic than you know. ;)
- Colombian Palenquera dancer (pictured): representing a small group of Afro-Colombian people that speak a language vaguely similar to Spanish
- Jane Austen - I just love those early 19th century dresses!
- an angel: I can indulge my taste for those pretty wings and lots of glittery things to wear.

Photo by Scott Dalton for the New York Times.

I Feel Like Screaming

I caught this post in Migra Matters today and the picture accompanying it is a perfect depiction of the sorry state of things today. When will people get it? How can this hatred be stopped? Does anyone else feel as powerless as I do?

The Afro Latina Experience

I found a great article the other day that was kind of enlightening... well it's an old article but it's always nice to find other people to identify with.

As an African American, I pretty much defy every single stereotype... from my voice to my chosen career which is based on classical music (gasp!). It doesn't help that I speak Spanish, that makes me even more "weird." I've always sought to identify with all people of color, including Latinos of all types & Afro-Latinos.

Here in the US, I think I would probably identify with any African American who finds herself in the margins; society doesn't seem to accept you too well if you stray too far from your designated "place." For me, speaking Spanish has opened as many doors as it's closed. Some African Americans already think I'm weird and some Latinos, when I start speaking Spanish, look at me like I have invaded their personal space. Of course there are exceptions in both categories but this is my general experience. A non-black Latino's reaction to me, a black Spanish speaker, would probably be the same whether I am actually Afro-Latino or not... especially since most of their reactions are evident long before they ask me where I'm from.

For me it's a feeling of isolation sometimes. It seems that pursuing my personal interests has alienated people of both cultures. I liked the article because it defines that in-between-ness for me, and it highlights yet another faction in our already divided American existence. Even so, it doesn't change any of my plans... and there have been enough accepting and wonderful people to make my chosen path worthwhile. I guess this comment from "African American Spanish Speaker" sums things up best for me:

"I just keep on keeping on because knowing Spanish has blessed me in more ways than hurt me and more than this...knowing Spanish and just living in between two worlds the way I have since I was 7 years old is what truly, truly makes me happy and that is what really counts at the end of each day."

The ravages, the ravages!

I'm always going around saying that the current immigration nightmare is directly tied to racism, that it's xenophobia at its most casual, that it's Jim Crow all over again (Farmer's Branch, anyone?). I say these things often to friends and sympathetic people, although I do occasionally come across people who like to go around saying, "They're everywhere!" or, "They should just go back!" And I'm thinking, 'Sounds familiar to me!'

People like to argue with me and say that it's just economics, and act as if it's some kind of self-preservation patriotic rite to insist that the "illegals" be "contained." :::sigh::: But the very language they use suggests that their insistence is more than "patriotic." In fact, these angry people seem to think immigrants are less than American, less than human.

Maybe it's both! Steven Landsburg over at Slate has done the math, and it turns out that to buy into the "illegals"="economic nightmare" argument, you'd have to consider an immigrant not only less than American, but...

In other words, to justify keeping the immigrant out, you'd have to say he's worth less than one-fifth of an American citizen. By contrast, there was a time when the U.S. Constitution counted a black slave as three-fifths of a full-fledged citizen. Alabama Gov. Bob Riley has recently apologized for the ravages of slavery. How long till politicians apologize for the ravages of our restrictive immigration policies?

The ravages, the ravages! Click here to read the entire article...

Receiving the Oprah treatment in Southlake

My best friend Eri and I *love* shopping, and so I was thrilled to realize that there's a shopping center nearby that I hadn't checked out yet. (Actually I was kind of dismayed--I'm known for having memorized the routes to every shopping center within 30 minutes of me--and I missed one?!)

Anyway my friend is Japanese and I'm me, and we're an odd pair. We get stared at whenever we go out because, well Dallas isn't San Francisco and how often do you see a pair of people like us? So I'm used to it. But on Friday when we went to Southlake, we got more than just stared at--we were treated like crap.

The Southlake Town Center is a shopping center that's new but designed to look old, and it really is very cute with lots of very cute shops and weird sculptures of cows. But as we were walking around to the different shops, the reception by salespeople ranged from lukewarm to downright "get-out-of-my-store" rude. Sometimes we were ignored outright. The worst place was L'Occitane, whose staff member  literally stopped us at the door when we inquired about their merchandise. We didn't even have a chance to let her know how rude she was, we just left immediately.

Two notable exceptions were James Avery, the Christian jewelry place, and Lane Bryant. Both stores were very sweet to us and they were also the only ones staffed by minorities--this is no coincidence. Looking around the shopping center, it was obvious who the intended clientèle was. My friend and I were well dressed and we are very nice, we were not being loud or disruptive and there was no reason for us to be excluded from any store, except the obvious.

My mother reminded me that she used to receive this treatment all the time when shopping in Dallas, when we lived here in the 80s. She also reminded me that even Oprah got this kind of treatment more than once (no, not just the Hermès scarf incident). She also said that too many blacks fought and died so that we can have the privilege of shopping wherever we want! Then she suggested I write it on my blog. So here it is. Go, Activist Mom!

I do plan to go back to the shopping center though, because (a) I like the shops there, mean salespeople be damned; (b) maybe there are other, less-racist staff members present on different days; and because (c) let's face it, my mother is right.

Black and Blacker

Over at Salon, the storm-of-the-week is brewing about race. Debra J. Dickerson wrote a great article examining Barack Obama's "blackness" with regard to his heritage and experience. No problem there; just stating the obvious. The article is really a commentary on the different types of "blackness" in America, highlighting Mr. Obama's immigrant status and how it's not quite the same as being "African American." Makes sense to me, but it seems to have gotten everyone all upset. Gary Kamiya, a Berkley-ite who spends a whole article explaining that he's half-Japanese and then denying that it matters, writes a rebuttal in which he puts forth a "utopian vision" whereby no one acknowledges race at all and color-blindness is the ideal. I think it's a bunch of crap.

Denying the existence of race is a gross and terrifying oversimplification, and in its extremity ends up being much worse. Which is better, being made fun of, or being ignored? Tough choice. Besides, all Mr. Kamiya's article does is reveal an extremely unsettling denial of his own race--he says that he prefers to check the "white" box, as a desperate attempt to avoid being the "other" and also because he cannot find it in himself to acknowledge his own Asian heritage.

So here you have two extremes; the articles are both well-written (even if one of them is a vanity project revealing a severely warped self-image, yes I'm talking to you Mr. Kamiya) and interesting. What Ms. Dickerson fails to point out is that "almost-Blacks" like Tiger, Condoleeza, and Colin are often viewed "by" the black community as outsiders, but how do they feel about being outsiders? On the Condoleeza/Sister Souljah continuum, I'm definitely leaning toward Condi (except that I'm a Democrat) and can definitely identify with being a "black" person that many don't embrace as "black."

Debra Dickerson, as Salon's newest ratings-earning, inflammatory writer (goodbye, Anne Lamott) "bravely" (or dutifully?) goes where few blacks do: she discusses issues of race out loud, where white people can hear! Like Bill Cosby in his public rants (but infinitely more coherent), Dickerson's airing of our dirty racial laundry gives our intra-racial problems a public forum, the result being either (a) an intelligent discussion on race and further "explanation" for those whites who truly "get it;" or (b) an inevitable mess where certain people feel free to comment and pass judgment on things they know nothing about, rather, the problems faced within our (Black) community.

Barack!

I wholeheartedly endorse Barack Obama. Not sure yourself? Just look at this picture. It's almost too good to be true... a Black president, a guy who's intelligent, creative, very cool, refreshingly forthcoming and honest, and loves his wife? Not only would I vote for him for President, I'd marry him, too! oh wait, he already has a lucky wife--named... Michelle! Hehehe :) 

Here's to discovering more guys like this. And to all you "regular guys" out there--when will you get it? Men who honestly and respectfully love women are the hottest.