Sunday, November 28, 2004

Slim Pickins

Having just returned from the twin cities visiting my wonderful sister and her fabulous husband, I am thinking about what I've observed about the black community there. I understand that it's small, got it. I understand that black men (available) are hard to find, got that too. But the cattiness that my sister has conveyed to me that goes on between black women there, wow. Her husband tells me that still, sometimes when they're walking down teh street together they get looks from black women, usually directed at my sister. The expression being "What Is That?" That, being my sister, who is light skinned but clearly of African American descent. My sister tells me of the prejudice that occurs from darker skinned women towards her which I've also experienced. Even in California when I walk down the street with my boyfriend, I notice the looks and smiles he receives from other black women while usually I get "the look" or I actually do get a smile and a hello. Unfortunately, at this point, I usually wait first to see what the reaction will be. Hate to say it, but I do. The rejection hurts too much otherwise.

I've attached a link to a book that's come out based on the recommendation of my cousin (thank you miss "melanie stewart") - the link is www.blackwomenshifting.com

Here's an example, from my workplace no less, something rough I started putting down on paper after having a couple of days to mull it over:

As I sat at my desk by the front door of my office building, typing a grateful reponse to a coworker in Seattle the bell rang. I hated that bell. I hated sitting by the front door. The downstairs offices had been reorganized, per the President. The result was that now I was the “meet and greet” person and frankly, given my background, I was not the best choice by far. Over the last several months we had gone through a hiring surge; we needed to staff up our drivers at the most basic level and yours truly was the quarterback for all information, processes, and reporting to the corporate office. I sat quietly, staring at a reply sent to me from another admin when the bell rang again. There is a sign taped to the glass that says no soliciting and interviews are held next door, therefore, not at this door. But, this person had rang twice so, quietly swearing to myself, I got up and pushed the door open.
“Can I help you?” I asked, one eyebrow raised as I held the door open.
“Yes,” the young mand smiled at me, “ I’m here to get an application.”
“C’mon in,” I gestured and motioned for him to follow me and have a seat. “We don’t actually hand out applications until you’ve gone through a sort of screening process with HR. Then, they’ll schedule you for an appointment.” I had the routine down pat, the phone number, contact person, any other information the applicant could want. As I reached for a bright yellow post-it that was somehow hidden beneath my keyboard to write down the phone number for him I heard a question that made me pause in semi shock.
“So, what race are you?” I looked up at the young man, probably a good five to ten years younger than I, about the same complexion as my brother with what looked like my nose. I looked back studiously at the post-it I was writing on.
“I’m sorry, what was that?”
“What race are you?” There was no malice in his voice that I could tell unlike the teenage boy who had approached me in a parking lot and smirked when asking me if was black and preempting my answer by saying coldly, “Yeah, you one those lightskinned girls” before riding off on his bike. The genteleman in front of me was grinning, my initial reaction entertained him in some way.
“I’m black.”
“Really? Yeah, well, there’s gotta be some mix in there somewhere. C’mon.”
“I’m black, that’s how I was raised.”
“Yeah but I’m mixed too, no Irish, German in there?”
“You asked, I’m telling you, I’m black.” I tore the post it from its base to hand over to the guy.
“You know there’s nothing wrong with being mixed. I am. You sure there’s no Irish, Scottish something in your family? I was raised black too.” He was still grinning at me.
“I don’t know you well enough to go into details about my family.” I didn’t want to be cold towards him but I could tell my temper was rising due to the coolness that I was beginning to exhude.
“Okay, well, thanks for the information. “
“You’re welcome. Have a good night.” He smiled at me, honestly unaware of any offense made. He took the post-it, waved at me and walked out the door. I sat at my desk, eyes staring at the screen but not focusing on anything in particular. My phone rang but I quickly looked at the number ID and hit the voicemail button. I breathed deeply, my jaw was tight and my shoulders up around my ears. “Goddammit,” I breathed quietly to myself and got up. I walked down the short hall to my coworker’s cubicle and relayed my recent experience to her. As I spoke, she looked at me over her shoulder, her hands still typing, nails click clicking on the keyboard. Her jaw dropped and her mouth fell into a little O as she heard my story.
“Hello! That was rude!” she commiserated with me.
“No shit. Does it look like that my family background is up for public discussion?” The encounter irritated more than I initially let on or felt.


On that note, off to do school work. I have to submit a piece for workshop by tomorrow night, even though by now it's probably already late (but at this point, most of my workshop cohort members don't pay attention to deadlines anyways it seems) and I've been out of town. From there, I have several pieces to submit to journals and contests and I need to have a draft of my manuscript done and in the mail to my advisor by the end of December. I am seriously screwed (at least that's what it feels like).

And I'm still waiting for my damn diploma from AUGUST!!! HELLOOO!!

Saturday, November 13, 2004

November 26th - Buy Nothing Day - too late apparently

November 26th is Buy Nothing Day, currently the word is getting around from what I can tell from www.adbusters.org. They are also bringing discussing the decommercialization of Christmas, the Buy Nothing for Christmas...all in all, considering the cumulative debt this country has accrued (thank you Mr. President) not to mention we as individuals not only does this sound practical but a relief as well. I for one am not looking forward to the holiday shopping mania which has already begun. In fact, I think we should do the following

Following the headlines of http://msnbc.msn.com/id/6597919/.

A late posting due to lots of plane travel. More soon.


Seriously though, adbusters has lots of various links and such which many may find not only interesting but frighteningly logical.
O

Monday, November 08, 2004

These Say It All

I received this link from a friend: http://72.3.131.10/gallery/1/. Good night and here's to a better tomorrow for everyone.

All Hail Pixar!

My cure for post election blues...I went to see the midnight showing of The Incredibles on Friday morning and it lived up to every single one of my expectations including the little subcommentary going on about insurance, etc...Great animation, fun characters, witty dialogue and something you can still take the kids to. Not that I have to worry about that yet. Pixar continues to amaze me with the quality of their animation and stories that they take on. Truly wonderful....

Off to other news, from www.truthout.org and so the fight continues for women's reproductive rights and with the seats in the Supreme Court quickly becoming a hot topic...well....here's an interesting perspective: www.truthout.org. Check out their essay on abortion and the environment at the very least. Post election depression is over. The Iraqi "insurgents" and Palestinians don't have the luxury of having a depression over their "administration." Neither do we.






Sunday, November 07, 2004

Four More Years

I am still too flabbergasted to post my own thoughts on the results of the election so here's some thing that caught my eye and has been circulating:


Letter To The Red States



Sorry, I try not to deluge people with my ramblings. But I had to write this and, having written it, had to send it. Even though I don't know anyone I can send it to (without alienating my Republican in-laws, who are the only "middle country" people I know.)

I am writing this letter to the people in the red states in the middle of the country -- the people who voted for George W. Bush. I am writing this letter because I don't think we know each other.

So I'll make an introduction. I am a New Yorker who voted for John Kerry. I used to live in California, and if I still lived there, I would vote for Kerry. I used to live in Washington, DC, and if I still lived there, I would vote for Kerry. Kerry won in all three of those regions.

Maybe you want to know more about me. Or maybe not; maybe you think you know me already. You think I am some anti-American anarchist because I dislike George W. Bush. You think that I am immoral and anti-family, because I support women's reproductive freedom and gay rights. You think that I am dangerous, and even evil, because I do not abide by your religious beliefs.

Maybe you are content to think that, to write me off as a "liberal" -- the dreaded "L" word -- and rejoice that your candidate has triumphed over evil, immoral, anti-American, anti-family people like me. But maybe you are still curious. So here goes: this is who I am.

I am a New Yorker. I was here, in my apartment downtown, on September 11th. I watched the Towers burn from the roof of my building. I went inside so that I couldn't see them when they fell. I had friends who were inside. I have a friend who still has nightmares about watching people jump and fall from the Towers. He will never be the same. How many people like him do you know? People that can't sit in a restaurant without plotting an escape route, in case it blows up?

I am a worker. I work across the street from the Citigroup Center, which the government told us is a "target" of terrorism. Later, we found out they were relaying very old information, but it was already too late. They had given me bad dreams again. The subway stop near my office was crowded with bomb-sniffing dogs, policemen in heavy protective gear, soldiers. Now, every time I enter or exit my office, all of my possessions are X-rayed to make sure I don't have any weapons. How often are you stopped by a soldier with a bomb-sniffing dog outside your office?


I am a neighbor. I have a neighbor who is a 9/11 widow. She has two children. My husband does odd jobs for her now, like building bookshelves. Things her husband should do. He uses her husband's tools, and the two little girls tell him, "Those are our daddy's tools." How many 9/11 widows and orphans do you know? How often do you fill in for their dead loved ones?

I am a taxpayer. I worked my butt off to get where I did, and so did my parents. My parents saved and borrowed and sent me to college. I worked my way through graduate school. I won a full tuition scholarship to law school. All for the privilege of working 2,600 hours last year. That works out to a 50 hour week, every week, without any vacation days at all. I get to work by 9 am and rarely leave before 9 pm. I eat dinner at my office much more often than I eat dinner at home. My husband and I paid over $70,000 in federal income tax last year. At some point in the future, we will have to pay much more -- once this country faces its deficit and the impossible burden of Social Security. In fact, the areas of the country that supported Kerry -- New York, California, Illinois, Massachusetts -- they are the financial centers of the nation. They are the tax base of this country. How much did you pay, Kansas? How much did you contribute to this government you support, Alabama? How much of this war in Iraq did you pay for?

I am a liberal. The funny part is, liberals have this reputation for living in Never-Neverland, being idealists, not being sensible. But let me tell you how I see the world: I see America as one nation in a world of nations. Therefore, I think we should try to get along with other nations. I see that gay people exist. Therefore, I think they should be allowed to exist, and be treated the same as other people. I see ways in which women are not allowed to control their own bodies. Therefore, I think we should give women more control over their bodies. I see that people have awful diseases. Therefore, I think we should enable scientists to try to cure them. I see that we have a Constitution. Therefore, I think it should be upheld. I see that there were no weapons of mass destruction in Iraq. Therefore, I think that Iraq was not an imminent danger to me. It seems so pragmatic to me. How do you see the world? Do you really think voting against gay marriage will keep people from being gay? Would you really prefer that people continue to die from Parkinson's disease? Do you really not care about the Constitutional rights of political detainees? Would you really have supported the war if you knew the truth, or would you have wanted to spend more of our money on health care, job training, terrorism preparedness?

I am an American. I have an American flag flying outside my home. I love my home more than anything. I love that I grew up right outside New York City. I first went to the Statue of Liberty with my 5th grade class, and my Mom and dad took me to the Empire State Building when I was 8. I love taking the subway to Yankee Stadium. I loved living in Washington DC and going on dates to the Lincoln Memorial. It is because I love this country so much that I argue with my political opponents as much I do.

I am not safe. I never feel safe. My in-laws live in a small town in Ohio, and that town has received more federal funding, per capita, for terrorism preparedness than New York City has. I take subways and buses every day. I work in a skyscraper across the street from a "target." I have emergency supplies and a spare pair of sneakers in my desk, in case something happens while I'm at work. Do you? How many times a month do you worry that your subway is going to blow up? When you hear sirens on the street, do you run to the window to make sure everything is okay? When you hear an airplane, do you flinch? Do you dread beautiful, blue-skied September days? I don't know a single New Yorker who doesn't spend the month of September on tip-toes, superstitiously praying for rain so we don't have to relive that beautiful, blue-skied day.

I am lonely. I feel that we, as a nation, have alienated all our friends and further provoked our enemies. I feel unprotected. Most of all I feel alienated from my fellow citizens, because I don't understand what you are thinking. You voted for a man who started a war in Iraq for no reason, against the wishes of the entire world. You voted for a man whose lack of foresight and inability to plan has led to massive insurgencies in Iraq, where weapons are disappearing into the hands of terrorists. You voted for a man who let Osama Bin Laden escape into the hills of Afghanistan so that he could start that war in Iraq. You voted for a man who doesn't want to let people love who they want to love; doesn't want to let doctors cure their patients; doesn't want to let women rule their destinies. I don't understand why you voted for this man. For me, it is not enough that he is personable; it is not enough that he seems like one of the guys. Why did you vote for him? Why did you elect a man that lied to us in order to convince us to go to war? (Ten years ago you were incensed when our president lied about his sex life; you thought it was an impeachable offense.) Why did you elect a leader who thinks that strength cannot include diplomacy or international cooperation? Why did you elect a man who did nothing except run away and hide on September 11?

Most of all, I am terrified. I mean daily, I am afraid that I will not survive this. I am afraid that I will lose my husband, that I will never have children, that I will never grow old and watch the sunset in a backyard of my own. I am afraid that my career -- which should end with a triumphant and good-natured roast at a retirement party in 2035 -- will be cut short by an attack on me and my colleagues, as we sit sending emails and making phone calls one ordinary afternoon. Is your life at stake? Are you terrified?

I don't think you are. I don't think you realize what you have done. And if anything happens to me or the people I love, I blame you. I wanted you to know that.