Born this way isn’t just for homosexuality…

When I grew up, there were very few points where I interacted with people of a different race, be it Black, Indian, Asian, or anything else that was out of the ordinary to me and my ‘mutt blood’.

 

I learned at an early age at school (about 2nd grade) that other races fascinated me. I met an asian girl and she taught me japanese words, and I thought she was the coolest person in the class. 5th Grade, my history class had one african american student, and I found him to be awesome. He was smart, and funny and though I wasn’t complete friends with him, I felt a little bit more culturally diverse for having him there (I was in fifth grade so this was a big step for a white kid with no previous experience with anyone of color). 

 

My parents never seemed to talk about it, until I started getting on in my teenage years. My mother was forced to move to an almost Lower Class suburb, and almost all her neighbors were who she called ‘ghetto trash’ , ‘white trash’ , ‘blackies’ . I was about 14, and spent my first summer with her, going to a park for a camping program with tons of other kids from the same suburb. This was my first taste of ethnicity and it was fun. 

 

When my mother came to pick me up one day, she saw a Milano boy calling me names, and didn’t know he was joking. She stepped out of her car, pulling me away from him, and sat me down in the car, windows rolled up, looking tense ad flustered. 

 

“Why did you do that, we were joking!”

“Listen, if one of those Niggers calls you a queer one more time, you tell him to go fuck himself”

 

This was the first time I saw any kind of blatant racism from my mother, and frankly was a turning point for me. I realized I wasn’t like her, didn’t want to be like her, and had no problem with color. I discussed it with her in my later years, but she wouldn’t listen to my taks about stereotyping and attempting to be more trusting. 

 

“You don’t understand” She said “I’ve grown up like this, I can’t change it.”

Idiocracy, Or is it?

In readings of the framework essay, I came across an entire section (about pg 344 to pg 346) where they explained the testing of individuals on there ability to comprehend  and/ or perform simple tests; the first occurrences of I.Q. (Intelligence Quotient) tests.

The thing I find interesting about the way they are explained is that the 20th century Americans would lump together people of any race (mostly non-white) that they THOUGHT was too dumb or uneducated, and keeping them under a net of stasis, if you will; unable to breed, and unable to do things everyday ‘normal’ americans could do.

The ‘unable to breed’ part stuck out at me more prominently than the others, because I hear people constantly shout ‘man! People are so stupid! People should have to take a test to breed!’, some Marylin Manson himself had said a while ago. Hey guys, you know what’s funny? 

There was a test! Funny right?? 

If they actually stil had a test like this, do you think it would follow a social Darwinist pattern similar to the one that was used so long ago? I say Social Darwinist, because that’s how we would all be if that kind of testing still persisted. A lot of people who actually are intelligent would be kept out of schools and put in ‘special’ situations, just because of an uneducated and seemingly archaic way of thinking. 

So next time you see someone you consider an uneducated person or an unfit parent (presumably stupid if that’s what you think) try and remember, they may not have had the opportunity you had, but they aren’t stupid. They just need some help is all (not that kind of help, help with there children and finances, those kinds of necessities. It’s easier to think and learn when you’re better off, is it not?)

Those ‘Racist words’ we stutter.

I’ve come to notice through a lot of experiences in my life, that a number of people i talk to (predomantly out of this group, those who are white) seem to be incredibly reluctant to use a phrase to describe anothers race. 

I’m not talking about just words that are found offensive, I mean any at all. 

At my workplace, for example, My white female co-worker came up to me and told me about someone who she believed was shop-lifting. she decribed there clothing, there hair, and there age, but I couldn’t get a clear picture. 

‘what race?’ I said

she stammered a bit, trying to find the correct word to say ‘umm, shes… shes african-american’

I pretended to pay it no mind and told her I’d keep an eye out. but then the officer of our store came over to talk to me about the same women. ‘that women that -your coworker- told you about, has she come over here yet?’ ‘you mean the african american women?’ I asked

‘yeah the black one.’ he said non-chalantly

I was a bit taken back. Is it just because he’s of a different ethnicity then white as well that he can say ‘black’ without so much as a second thought? I wanted to ask him something along those lines, but it wasn’t my place, so i refrained.

I’ve noticed this in our own classroom too, people have stuttered uttering the words black or brown, indian, hispanic, ‘red’ , ‘yellow’, african-american, middle-eastern, and so on. Even I’v e noticed myself doing it. 

In my mind I believe this comes from conditioning to feel a certain way. it feels as if our education has brought whites specifically up to be ashamed of how WE treated everyone else, when in all reality, each of us isn’t to blame, it’s the people that came before us. 

all in all it’s a tricky thing to talk about, but I just wanted to bring it to light. I try not to stammer any more, but I also refrain from saying certain words because the language is different from one ethnicity to another, if you catch my meaning (I hope you do.)

Let’s Play Cowboys and Indians!

But seriously. Stereotypical Marlboro campaign man and nomad land-stealing cheiftan are just brand names. The real indians have to have a quarter of indian blood in them. Why? That man who is 3 parts cherokee said so!

I’m talking about the 1/4 rule and what we read about in Reading 4.

Personally, I find this idea both absurd and necessary. 

It is absurd because being any smaller of a part indian blood than one quarter , makes you inelligable for rights and privileges as an indian makes my head spin. If they are indian (with proof) then they deserve to be recognized as such, not told they have to fill out more of that Pie chart than a quarter. 

However, its also necessary. And it should be quite obvious why. Having people with any amount of indian, be it full blooded or 1/24th , claim that they deserve some kind of benefit, would mean that there is only a meager restitution to be shared, as the government can’t give out ALL its money (FYI they’re too busy lining there own pockets!).

So while there are many definitions of indian and a lot of people making that claim, it still seems that only the most indian ones will get any form of compensation, as ridiculous as that sounds.

Transexual is to Transgender is not to Intersex

 

 

Until reading of Cheryl and his/her plight of finding themself, and dealing with IGM, I had no idea what Intersex was, or that it even existed.

When I was younger, I first learned of what a transgender was, mistaking a transvestite for one. The difference was explained to me in a non-biased light: Transexuals are men or women who like to take on the appearance of the opposite sex. It doesn’t mean they’re weird, or creepy, but that they are more confortable that way. Transgender and/ or transexuals (which are generally two terms for the same thing) are men/ women who wish to transition to being the opposite sex, something very psychological and time consuming, but with todays technology, can be done. 

Intersex however, is an entirely new to me. and leaves a lot of open questions, as I tend to be curious (sometimes overly so) and tend to want to ask my friends about this. The reason i say my friends is because a number of friends I have are indeed Transgender, or quite possibly, intersex. I feel odd about asking, as I don’t know exactley how to put my curiosity into words without being offensive. Like it stated in Reading 11 under the section ‘Language is Real, ‘words are real; bodies are not’. The way I interpret this is that you can say something, and what you say is what gives something meaning. Your body is not a real thing, just a cluster of words used to define your body. 

when it comes to intersex, the body not being real is all the more realized, as it shows that you can call someone she, or he, when they are neither. they would be deemed he/she. why? Because there isn’t a word for this gender, it can only be one, or the other, society says so, even though its not so. 

so after some careful deductions, I’m sure to think further into someones identity before labeling them, trans/ intersex, or not, as they are the ones who are being scrutinized, and they should be the ones to choose the words which give there body a meaning.

Noted, You don’t like my opinion.

Interestingly enough, I’ve had friends in the past who can’t seem to see past my homosexuality. 

A few years ago, a friend of mine and I were having at it in a verbal dispute. He was arguing the rights and wrongs of something a teacher had done, and I was trying to even him out, though I was losing my cool as well (I’m only human, it happens) 

The next day, he got wind from a former friend that I am gay. His attitude towards me dramatically changed. He immediately started…. to flirt with me.

I was NOT expecting this at all. I’d never even thought this friend was gay, let alone attracted to me. He proceeded to ask to hang out the next week, after a number of days of awkward smiles from across the lunch room and, once, a butt grab… creeped me right the fuck out. 

As we sat in our friends living room, He started talking about his previous arguements about his teacher, this time completely agreeing with what I said. Fair enough, I swayed his opinion. 

Later that evening, he sent me a text, and from that point on I stopped talking to him. his message was “I think you’re cute. Thats Y I listened to u” 

Apparently, my opinions all depended on my sexuality. apparently, the fact that I’m gay makes me on the same page as him, giving him a positive outlook on whatever my opinion is.

So then, this leaves me to wonder, what do other people think when they form opinions of me? Is my sexuality truly something that influences peoples thoughts/biases? 

Such a notion sounds ridiculous, I know, but humanity is not above this ridiculousness.

Entirely Unified and Singled Out

 

Today our family held a benefit for my late brother, who was brutally murdered, summarized details here. We put together a number of small off color rock bands and invited everyone we know and there friends to come and enjoy the drinks, merriment, and even get some ritsy raffle prizes. And it was wonderful to see so many people fill up our auditorium in league to help a worthy cause (all proceeds went to Wounded Warrior Regiment, whose money helps those injured in the military.)

Though, there was something I noticed that irked me slightly. well, a bit more than slightly. Everyone at this benefit was white. whats more, they all had the disposition of rich white republicans. These kind of people seem to be the best friends of my father and his girlfriend, and not more than one person of color showed up.

I felt a bit off put by it, though still enjoying my fathers guitar playing and talking to some very old family friends, but still noticing the fat that everyone here seemed to be in the same league. Wearing leather jackets, soft fitted dresses, some with expensive or if not expensive, flashy jewelry (let’s face it everyone can be stingy). I just had hoped the plethora of friends we outreached to would’ve gone further than the select group of RWR’s.

The few people i did see of any other ethnicity then ‘white’ were friends of my brothers, come to pay their respects. they, along with about 20 of Phil’s other friends were an interesting bunch; punks, drinkers, smokers, geeks, bad-kids, preppy students, business students, etcetera. It felt reassuring to at least see them there, though of course there association was only with each other, not many of the adults would’ve wanted to sit down with a bunch of smelly vulgar young adults and listen to them talk about the stupid things my brother did.

All in all, this is the kind of social segregation I hope that people can get away from. I don’t like to see any kind of singled out race, culture, sexuality, etcetera, especially when it comes to something as sensitive as a death.

The Tin Roofs of Cange: An Observation

 

Thus far, a lot of what has been explain to us about Paul Farmers life comes off as impoverished and poor, someone who lacked the essentials all of us with access to them daily, say we need and ‘can’t live without. I.E. A bathroom, television, computers, phones, and food enough to last more than a single day.

Yet, what I’ve noticed is that, with great vigor and candore, Farmer Jr. isn’t all too bothered by these things. They’re normal, and he was still able to thrive and succeed in a poor lower class living environment.

Something that caught my attention right off the bat in ch. 5 was the family getting up and leaving there home in Alabama because of “the atmosphere” in there Birmingham town in the 1960’s. Was it only because of the failings of Paul Sr. in in the town as a salesmen? Or was there something politically happening that caused the upheaval and drastic change of there families life at ‘home’?

After looking into it, it becomes clear it was clearly a political and safety issue. by the article Birmingham 1960’s ,showing segregation and rights fights in the south, there was a lot of unrest and violence, so it’s clear why the Warden feared for there safety.

Something that also caught my attention, in chapter 8 while Paul is talking to another volunteer at Hospital St. Croix in Léogâne, the man who seemed to have the same compassion for patients and helping them as Farmer did, said he was ready to leave the country behind, saying “Theres no electricity. It’s brutal here.”

It opened my eyes too. I never really realized how regular electricity has been for my life, and so many others. The only time I had a taste of complete blackout was the blizzard last October, back in 2011. Our apartment was without power and I had to rely on candle light to get around. That was tough, and I couldn’t imagine not having that luxury, but so many people are like that in this world.

It’s very sad. yet also enlightening, to realize what so much of the world lacks that we pride ourselves on using every single day. one question I do have though, because it may have eluded me while reading, or I may not have come upon it yet; is Baby Doc still in power during the time Paul Farmer is running the hospital in Haiti? (in reference to part one and our look at him as head doctor).

Can you see the Real me?

Hi there! Welcome to this blog, cleverly titled after the Anthropology course for which I’m making this for. Genius I know. 

In my extreme neglect I haven’t yet kept up with this blog. I realize now that it’s not as hard as my anxieties try to have me believe ( yes, I’m prone to frequent anxiety attacks, whether or not I show it). So let get this textual reference of myself going, shall we?

Who are you? 

Well, to put myself into the ‘worldly’ demographic, I’m a gay white male college freshmen, a common enough label throughout the country. But what people often look past is that though I have pride in who I am, I don’t take the time to push myself away from the crowds, or to stand out (this is from my own perspective). This is partially due to anxiety, but it is also because I know who I am, what I am, where I came from, and where I want to go. Dressing the way I do, talking the way I do, is all normal in my own world. Not enough people seem to realize that I’m not attempting to impress anyone, I’m merely fitting into my own ‘residual self image’ (insert matrix reference). 

In short, you can see me as an artist, an activist, a liberal, non-religious, not entirely aware of what goes on in our politics, and, though a lot of people don’t show pride for it, or only know the urban dictionary term, a furry (look it up if you so please, this is at your own discretion). 

I tend to ramble.  Sorry if I am at all incoherent.