on RACISM - 013017

(kracka's note:  i never meant to post this, my first stab at writing down what was coming up for me with regard to racism in America; specifically, what i was witnessing as an increase use of this word, and oftentimes, careless use of this word (imho), which can have unintended consequences.  after writing this, i experienced an AHA moment, which brought to light my own ignorance in pretty glaring fashion about the fact that i was writing this piece through the lens of my own white privilege.  So i started another writing, which i posted here, and since the time of this writing, have been having a very interesting conversation between myself and one of my readers (you can read that at the bottom of the white privilege post).  during this conversation, some of the issues i addressed in my earlier piece came up and, at the risk of exposing my own glaring ignorance to my audience, I agreed to post that piece here...for what its worth.  Enjoy!)

Since the election of Donald Trump, i have noticed, with increasing frequency - and carelessness -, the use of the word racism set right along with the words prejudice, bias, and even, preference, as if these words all mean the same thing.  they don’t.  they are markedly different, and to use them as synonyms is dangerous, divisive, and dare i say, even lazy, since the use of the word marks a clear qualitative DISTINCTION between self and other in a way that allows self to ignore one’s own damaging prejudices. 

the word racism has a very specific meaning and is NOT synonymous with these other words, and, as i have learned time and time again, words MATTER!  They can UNITE, spark discussion and elicit forward-moving action, or they can DIVIDE.  inherent in the word/concept of racism is a very definitive superiority/subhuman dichotomy; in other words, when I call you out as a racist, what I am suggesting is that you consider me to be less of a human than you; that you consider yourself to be a GREATER, SUPERIOR human being.  Unless this is really true, I would consider the use of this word divisive.   

In my experience as a brown person walking this earth, i have rarely encountered or experienced the workings of a true racist, ala Dylan Roof.  As a brown person adopted by white people, I have spent most of my life in communities where I am usually one of the only brown people.  I often make the joke that I went to a high school of 1,500, where there were 3 ½ black ppl; I was the half.  Mostly in these communities, i came into contact with prejudice and bias, very different words; at the heart of these words is typically (i have found) fear of "otheness" - a very natural and workable by-product of being human.  I am not suggesting that prejudice and bias don't have their problems, only that these words suggest a very different working of the mind; one that is easier to stare right in the face, because it doesn't suggest a basic lack of HUMANITY.  Never once can I say I dealt with a racist, or a person who looked at me as if I were less than human. 

I bring this up because when the word racist/racism is thrown into the mix when it should not be, it can have unintended consequences, such as (1) shutting out dialogue and discourse with the very ppl who may be allies to you, or (2) getting someone who is completely unqualified elected as President of the United States, because ppl (mostly white ppl in rural parts of America) are sick of the neo-liberal BS that often suggests white ppls *racism* is THE problem in a world gone amok. Now certainly our nation, and the world in general, is in a very precarious state at the moment, but this is not because of an ideology of racism, which is, in its purest analysis, a form of mental illness.  How many ppl do you know that actually feel that black and brown ppl are SUBHUMAN?  For me in my circles? I encounter pre-judice on the daily, and i am guilty of holding pre-judices myself ), but I can’t think of anyone who i would call out as a racist.

I am writing this here because i think that the biggest issue facing humanity right now is the subjugation of the feminine, and the ongoing battle of the sexes.  We see this as humanity continues to rape and pillage mother earth, even as we XX’S continue to fight for this thing called *equality*, all the while, denying that there are very VALUABLE differences and distinctions between XX's and XY's.  Equality does NOT mean *same*, and if we can accept that it was set up this way by design, perhaps we can begin to make these differences work FOR US, rather than against us. As just one example, generally speaking, XY's are physically STRONGER than XX's, so why do we continue to fight for the right to do ANY JOB men can do? Seriously, if you want to be a garbage collector and sling 50 - 100 lb cans of trash over your shoulder for 8 - 12 hours, more power to you; personally i would rather use the emotional depth that is an XX's gawd given gift (and if you would like to argue this, remember; its woman who are charged with the primary job of NURTURING) to help heal the deep fissures that exist between the sexes.

So - the next time you are tempted to throw the word racism into a post or conversation, think about whether THIS is what you really mean, or whether there is another word, that is more appropriate, and might work to facilitate dialogue rather than shut it down and make the existing divide even deeper. 

Thank you for listening.

ON (my) WHITE PRIVILEGE – 021717

The other week, I had the opportunity to have two very different *conversations* (usually me doing most of the talking) with two very different (looking) people about RACE and RACISM.  And later, as i was thinking about these two very different conversations, I began to wonder how it was that these two, very different-looking people, having experienced RACE and RACISM in America in vastly different ways, have both managed to end up with the same end goal in mind – equality. 

And as I was mulling over the SECOND conversation I had, this one an online conversation with a black male friend of mine, i was completely SHOCKED when he abruptly ended this conversation (that I was having with myself), by suggesting that perhaps he and I had very different understandings of how racism functions in America, it hit me – like a bat outta hell, like a load of bricks to the face – MY understanding of how racism functions in America is from a (ad)vantage point of WHITE PRIVILEGE.  Duh.  And, Yuck.

I mean...white privilege?  Seriously?  But then, what happens to  my life-long story as the orphan?  The BI-RACIAL orphan with the huge identity crisis?  Is that story now completely invalidated by this new awareness? Do i have to hang up my bi-racial-identity-crisis-having-orphan shoes now?!?  Shit, it don´t even know if I can learn this new role at my age.

So – rewinding just a bit to my every day lived experience of race, basically a long, drawn-out conversation I have been having - all my life - mostly with myself, sometimes with others.   But it would indeed be fair to say that this conversation began with a great deal of prompting from the outside world, constantly wanting to know *What I am*.

“What ARE you?!?” was a perfectly normal and perfectly acceptable question from perfectly bewildered strangers (this is back in the "free-love 70´s, just when inter-racial relationships were beginning to gain acceptability - or at least novelty status - in American culture), referring to the question of my questionable *race*, since the color of my skin didn’t outwardly present as one thing or another (for example, the basic black and white mix that makes up my *heritage* if you could call it that). 

And then, thrown into this ambiguity soup for good measure was my adoption into a white family, which was also a rather abrupt  and complete separation - physically, mentally and emotionally, from black people.  Off i went, a product of the newly budding (but as yet not socially acceptable) concept of inter-racial relationships, to be raised by white liberals in (mostly) middle class, predominately white neighborhoods; so in many ways, I have had the classic “white girl” experience.

Except that I’m not white.  Which has always been obvious to the others in my various communities - black, white and mixed (see photo below).   What I got out of all of this ambiguity was a fine sense of “separate, but equal”, which is not so bad, right?  In other words, I have always been the different-colored child, but rarely have I been dehumanized in my brown skin.  I’ve just been – separated, or different from the rest.  

Me and My Family - Separate, but equal

And lately, life has been compelling me to start having conversations with various groups of people about these words RACIST and RACISM, perhaps in order to finally, once and for all, ‘weed out’ whatever it is in 2017 that would have black and white people seeing things so very differently; many of the white ppl. in my life are like "WTF is going on with all of this RACISM?  How did all of this RACISM happen on my watch?!?"  Meanwhile, the black ppl. in my life are like "Silly white ppl...racism has always been part of America´s cultural fabric.  You had the privilege of ignoring this because it didn´t impact you directly.  Well, Donald Trump has ruined all of that for you.  President Trump has ripped the band-aid right off America´s festering primal wound called RACISM, exposing the seedy underbelly of our train-wreck reality T.V. show culture. Enjoy."

In preparation for having these conversations, I began composing a piece that I titled “On Racism”.  The piece began like this:

Since the election of Donald Trump, i have noticed, with increasing frequency and carelessness, the use of the word racism set right along with the words prejudice, bias, and even, preference, as if these words all mean the same thing.  they don’t.  they are markedly different, and to use them as synonyms is dangerous, divisive, and dare i say, even lazy, since the use of the word marks a clear qualitative DISTINCTION between self and other in a way that allows self to ignore one’s own damaging prejudices. 

So there, racism.   I went on, like any good student essay, to proving my point:

The word *racism* has a very specific meaning and is NOT synonymous with these other words, and as I have personally had the opportunity to learn, over and over again, is this: words MATTER!  Words can be used to UNITE, spark discussion and elicit forward-moving action, or they can be used to DIVIDE.  inherent in the word/concept of racism is a very definitive superiority/subhuman dichotomy; in other words, when I call you a racist, what I am suggesting is that you consider me to be less of a human being than you; that you consider yourself to be a SUPERIOR human being.  And, unless this is really true, I would consider the use of this word divisive.  

Now - in my own defense :  All of this is still true for me.  And, it’s also true that my own personal brand of ‘truth’ speaks from the perspective of white privilege – which in it’s first, perhaps simplest interpretation means that my life has never been or felt physically threatened because my skin is brown.   

And i could go on and on to list the numerous and varied ways, both large and small, that (my) white privilege has worked, in my favor, to provide me with a very sheltered and shielded view from the de-humanizing effects of racism, but i won´t.  Instead,I would like to offer you a gut-wrenching, heart-breaking example of how the absence of white privilege manifested itself in my life recently.

Yesterday, I attended a funeral for the 19-year-old child of a dear, dear friend of mine, a woman I have known for nearly 25 years.  This friend is a black woman, she has 3 other beautiful children; the child who was killed happened to be her youngest son.  This child was a nice kid, very funny, life of the party kind of child, who lived by the seat of his pants, who made some bad choices – didn’t we all as kids, but thankfully, none of those bad choices got us killed.   His last bad decision landed him with the wrong group of people, at the wrong place, at the wrong time.  And when you are young, male and black, you better believe it´s “shoot to kill.”

I don’t worry about this happening to my (now) 13 year old black son.  Because, quite frankly, (my) white privilege has sheltered me from even thinking the thought that a family member of mine is not safe in the color of his skin.  To be fair, my dear, dear, friend never saw this coming to her child, either.  She was knocked off-guard how quickly her black child became just another statistic.  

And even though i don´t worry about the physical safety of my young, black son, this doesn´t  mean that a threat doesn´t "actually" exist.  I would say it’s more than likely that my son’s black father sees the safety of his black son in a very differently light.  I suspect that he is keenly aware of the very real threat my 13 year-old black son faces, on a day-to-day basis.  But, can you see how both perspectives are true, albeit subjective?  Same – same, but different.  And now more than ever, I am both thankful for my present perspective, and also very aware how easily my own personal sense of safety could be completely annihilated.   

So after all of that reflecting,  I THEN understood what my black male friend was trying to get across in his post (which I only paid the briefest of attention to, so that I could get my OWN, ‘more important’ point across), which was this:

“Black people really don’t want to have this conversation anymore with white people.  They just don’t.  It’s not their problem.  It’s a white people problem.”

And so I (thought) I was having this (one-sided) conversation with my black friend about how I didn’t agree with Toni Morrison’s assertion (lol i know, wtf with MY ego, huh?) that racism was a ‘white people’s problem’ – because blah-blah blah….  And my friend was gently insisting, well that’s not really Toni’s point; her point is that perhaps it’s time that white people have these conversations on their own, without black people.   And as I continued to blah-blah-blah about the VIP difference (in my world) between racism and prejudice, he respectfully ended the exchange.   Wait, what?  But I was just getting warmed up! 

So basically I missed his entire point.  His and Toni Morrison’s, of course.  You can see the full video here. 

And once I was able to go back and re-trace my missteps and locate what I now understand to be the point of his post, I wanted to share this insight with my OTHER friend, the one I had the FIRST conversation about race with: this one with a white woman-friend of mine, in which I was blah-blah-blah-ing with her all about race (because she brought it up) and I have had this, and similar conversations with white people on so many other occasions in my mixed-girl lifetime, I thought THIS was going to be the time I was not going to let that word slip on by without some more carefully thought out examination about how this word is being used– or mis-used, as I happen to think the case may be. 

And I was telling all of this to my white female friend, because as we were discussing the issue of race and racism, she brought up some of her recent experiences in a discussion group of activists (predominately white, but some black) where often in this group she, as a white person, feels at a LOSS as to what the expectation is from black ppl about how she is to be handling the problem of racism (locally and globally), and specifically, what that looks like, as actionable items.  “Step up, and step BACK” is often the message, which is then followed by what feels to her like a confrontational “So now what are you going to do to fix it?”  And what, exactly, does “Step up, Step back” look like within groups that gathered for the woman’s march, where there must be, what my white female friend calls *intersectionality*, because otherwise, she says “ it’s just a white woman’s march.”

I now understand that these conversations need to take place between white people (and those of us who reap the bennies of white privilege) and NOT in and amongst a group of people who grew up “Black in America.”  I am Not Your Negro is a movie out right now about that very topic, what it means to be "Black in America.”  Says author James Balwin: “The story of the American negro is the story of America and it’s not a pretty story.”

And as I begin to take a deeper, more intimate look at exactly how (my) white privilege might be used to engage and facilitate conversations on “race” and “racism in America” I bring you this first, very important message, from black people to white people, which is to say:

“Stop talking to me about racism.  Talk amongst yourselves.  Racism is a white ppls. problem, so go figure out your shit.  And then get back to us.”

So there it is.  My white privilege.  And if there is one very important lesson I have learned from this long and winding exploration of (my) white privilege, and what all of this means to me on a practical, day to day basis:  it means that whatever it is I still want to do with this life, well I better go on and start doing it, like today, like NOW.   Because truly, there is nothing standing in my way.

Except me. 

"EFFED UP THINGS guys say on OKC, and other dating (mis)adventures from a nearly 50-Year-Old MILF with a Bad Attitude and Nothing to Lose but Time." - TEASER CHAPTER

So I am writing that book.  And below you can check out the cover art: this is me at 5 years old, and my face looks like that because my mom is making me play with the neighborhood children...and i don't like the neighborhood children - i find them stupid and boring.  And ever since then, i haven't been able to completely disguise my general, overall displeasure, currently bordering on contempt, for humanity.

Me at 5 - Stanford Student Housing, Palo Alto ,CA - 1973

And as a teaser to generate interest in my (potentially upcoming) "Please help me pay for this book by reserving your copy NOW!" campaign that I hope you will consider participating in (listen, it will be a $10 well spent - i promise), I thought I would offer you a FREE TEASER!

This particular adventure is currently titled "The Runner." Enjoy.  :o)



                      *        *        *       *        *


Some time in 2008…


My first foray in to OKC-ville was in 2008.  I had been separated from my ex-husband since late 2005, had taken some time to “find my center” again, and was finally feeling ready for the challenge of a relationship.  Or at the very least, it was time to get laid.  

So – what was it, exactly, about his online persona/profile that established him, in my mind as a potentially acceptable suitor, if not, simply,  just a *good time*...or - at the very, very least, an experiment.

Well, he was cute – old enough.  I had just turned 40, he was I think, 32, or 33, maintained some kind of a stable job – I remember at the time thinking it sounded legit.  Oh, and then there was the casual mention in his profile about being a practitioner of “Tantric Yoga.”  At least I think it said tantric yoga.  And at the time (to be more precise, up until just 3 days ago), I only had the very vaguest idea of what tantric yoga actually was, but at that time, and given a whole host of other circumstances, it sounded intriguing in a provocative/provocateur way, plus there was yoga involved, right? so #winning.

I think the first indication of the person i was going to be dealing with for the next 4 or so hours was when we met in front of the bar he had suggested for our initial outing together.  It was a mid-afternoon date, 2pm on a sunny summer afternoon in beautiful Oakland, CA, U.S.A., (photo below) and he suggested we meet at the diviest of dive bars - at least from the outside - I have ever seen.  

My Beautiful City, Oakland, CA, U.S.A.

Seriously, I rolled up before he did, and was sooooooo glad when i saw that the bar was closed.  It’s not that I’m against a good dive bar, but for a first date with a total stranger?!? I really don’t want that initial blind-date moment to be in a place with dank lighting, less than clean surfaces,  and suspicious smells.  I need to SEE you, i need to be able to smell what’s (not) you, right?  I want to know what I am signing up for on a first date, and meeting in a place where you would rather NOT deal with the realities of meeting a stranger, opting instead for a muddled, muffled version of said stranger is NOT my idea of a good time.  Actually, blind first dates off the inter-webs are not my idea of a good time, so let’s take some of the guesswork out of the experience, shall we?

We opted instead (or I suggested) that we walk over to the other side of the lake to the Lake Chalet, a higher-ended restaurant/bar that’s nice because, even though the concept of the place is a little overdone and pretentious, it KNOWS that it is - plus, there is outdoor seating right on Lake Merritt, so there are views to be had, not to mention - it's really good people-watching.  I knew, based on where he had suggested we meet, that this substitution was not likely to be his second or fifth choice, but whatever.  I figured that the spot would test his ability to be flexible in the face of adversity, plus he was a tantric yogi, so he should be able to go with the flow, no problemo, right? 

Wrong! (best possible Trump impression i can do here). 

The date started out OK, we got seated outdoors, there were drink specials and good bar food to be had, so away we went, ordering our first drinks and some food, and got down to the business of getting to know each-other.  

I say “first” drinks, because there were more to be had, several more, and I think that if there is one thing I can say about getting so lit-up on a first date its this: your potential life partner will be really easy to suss out, once they've gotten good and liquored up, have become completely transparent, and you get a real-life "no holds barred" glimpse of what your true reality might look like with this person if you were to, say,  invite him into your life.  Not a 'bad' thing, mind you, i suspect that this is likely why we think that going out for drinks can be a good way to meet someone...if you keep it to, say, one or two drinks, rather than 4 in 4 hours time, with snacks thrown in as a buffer.  But what can i say, this was a time when i was still drinking,     and my, shall we say, "priorities" were a bit different.

So anyway, off we went, getting to know each-other.  Starting off with the benign questions, where are you from, what you are doing now, what are you looking for in an online date, etc. etc., and as time goes by and the drinks start warming things up a bit, going a little (or a lot) thicker into the woods. 
   

And then, by the start of the THIRD round, just after I had mentally confirmed for myself that this person was most likely NOT a love connection (in short, he turned out to be an arrogant know-it-all, who really didn’t seem that interested into getting to know very much about the person sitting right in front of him), he starts to get a little bit *aggressive* about date #2.
 

And this is just a little snippet of how that conversation/confrontation went down (or at least as close as I REMEMBER it going down, considering this was damn near 10 years ago, and memories/details of this date get a bit sketchy from here on out):

him: so – am i gonna get a yes on a second date with me or what?


me: um, ah….(feeling extremely caught off guard by what seemed like a very unnecessary question, and at any rate, a completely inappropriate one at this time) well – quite frankly, I am wondering why you want to discuss a SECOND date right at this moment?  I mean, we are still on our first date. 

him:(not liking my answer to his question, perhaps sensing now that he is skating on some pretty thin ice): well lets face it,  I mean, i’m pretty sure you know by now whether or not you want to go out again. 

me: (again – caught off guard to the boldness and immediacy of the question, and his demand for an answer)  But I thought you were a tantric yogi?

him:(shooting me a completely bewildered look): What does that have to do with this?

me: well it seems to me that you would want to stay in the now. Right? I mean isn’t it all about appreciating the present moment?

him: (setting aside my snarkiness in favor of his high - and mighty - pursuit of whether he was potentially going to get laid anytime in his near future): well it sounds like maybe because you don’t want to answer my question, you are giving me your answer, right?

me:  (now feeling slightly put-off and emboldened with a sense that I had very little to lose at this juncture, plus i was quite drunk and was really discovering how much i didn't like him by now): well what I can tell you is that any thoughts i had of entertaining a second date with you before you asked me that question are quickly fading away. 

him: huh, yeah. 

Around this time, the bartender came around again, so we ordered a fourth round.  I don’t exactly know what either of us were exactly thinking about why it was a good idea to order another round at that point, rather than to just end the date, but I vaguely remember thinking that the answer to my current predicament was in that fourth drink...in some strange way. 
Well, it was - just not in the way that I had anticipated the events unfolding:

I think it was mid-way through this fourth and final round, when, after an unsuccessful attempt to try and get me to admit that I had had known from the beginning of the date (not true) whether I wanted to go on a second date (it was all no-bueno and crazy-town from here, and the three women from the table next to ours were starting to look more than a little bit interested in the trainwreck that was happening before their very ears), he abruptly stood up from the table and announced:

“I have to go to the bathroom.”


“OK” I said.


He never returned. 

Our food + bar table totaled $85 - without the tip. 

After about 5 minutes of sitting there, it finally dawned on me that he wasn’t returning and I began to chuckle.  

One of the women from the other table looks over at me, I look at her and she says:

“What the hell just happened here?”

I said, still fairly stunned : “He just pulled a runner on me.”

“A runner?”

“Yes, a runner…he’s not coming back!”

And for the next 15 minutes or so, I replayed the entire breakdown of the events (from my very limited perspective, of course), and we all ended up in unanimous agreement about the very most important part of that experience, which sums all up as:

I just dodged a bullet.  

and homie scored himself a LOT of free drinks. 

so win/win.   :o)