salience
September 19, 2005
I apologize for the deja vu, I have mentioned this before.
Not having a niche in EE.UU society yet, especially in what we're taught is such a "melting pot" is mindnumbing. We are still all one and not the other. I cannot write here as irlendesa y mexicana. If we go by the one drop rule, I am brown. Nevermind my skin is light and I pass for "exotic" white on a daily basis. Nevermind I have to deal with racism everywhere, and yet nowhere simultaneously. I play a game every day, living amongst the minorities and working amongst the white. Nella Larsen's Passing, twenty four hours at a time. I am white. And I am Comanche. I am a mestiza, mixed. And yet, in each, I can't be the other. No matter where I'm standing, I am missing half of who I am.
With all of the attention devoted to pointing fingers after Katrina lately, I do feel sought out. Not necessarily for my mestiza opinion, but for my racial silence. That ends here. It shames me, what game is being played here in my country. Nevermind Iraq, Afghanistan, and the budget shuffle the administration is undergoing. I mean just how much the media and celebrities are cashing in on the hurricane aftermath. "Bush hates black people." Who can say they know for sure besides the man himself? Why are we blaming the federal administration for such indiscreet corruption and a complete shunning of any responsibility at the state level? Why is it so hard for us to accept that some would rather die in the homes they worked so hard for than leave? What if they really do feel they have nothing left to live for? Since when is it our place to live others' lives for them? Do we really value our own lives that little, that we must interfere with people we weren't conscious of before the latest magazine cover hit newsstands?
Around me, it seems those shouting the loudest are ones who have never had to live in a place outside of this great country. There is a reason why we, as Americans, are universally envied overseas: we are the spoiled child. We can have everything and anything and still it is not enough. Always there is someone breathing somewhere near us, not working to please us fast enough. Close the borders. See how quickly your suburban condos will be built. See just how immaculate your lawn is, or how fresh your fruit is when you must labor yourself. Get off your high horse America, and see what is there. Instead of yelling and drawing battle lines you crave to feel safe, cooperate. Here we finally have a chance to show the world how unstoppable we can be, and all we have are sour words?
Yet the truth remains: no matter how low you find yourself, just how far you've fallen in one night through no fault of your own, your neighbors will be the first to ignore what you need, and quickly pass you by. No amount of money in the world will save a state when in the wrong hands. Why are families turning on one another? Why are we not taking our own in? It's not that your neighbors don't care, they want to help. But their education has gotten in their way, in your way. The bubble the ivory tower of academia creates for overseas immersion keeps their eyes on the horizon. They are so far sighted, they don't know what help looks like. They've never been at the bottom themselves, they can't comprehend.
So instead, we are stuck here, those with money and power perpetuating the ghettos. They don't think to visit the wreckage to understand what is fundamentally needed. We're at a crossroads, building thin clapboard houses, filling them with shiny appliances we own ourselves, never thinking to teach the poor how to manage their money. Never showing them how to keep their gas and electricity on for the cold winter chill cheap habitat for humanity houses allow in, one family after another. As we sleep soundly in our beds tonight, is the inevitable disaster and tragedy in life we must endure the problem? Or are we the real issue we're ignoring here?
Not having a niche in EE.UU society yet, especially in what we're taught is such a "melting pot" is mindnumbing. We are still all one and not the other. I cannot write here as irlendesa y mexicana. If we go by the one drop rule, I am brown. Nevermind my skin is light and I pass for "exotic" white on a daily basis. Nevermind I have to deal with racism everywhere, and yet nowhere simultaneously. I play a game every day, living amongst the minorities and working amongst the white. Nella Larsen's Passing, twenty four hours at a time. I am white. And I am Comanche. I am a mestiza, mixed. And yet, in each, I can't be the other. No matter where I'm standing, I am missing half of who I am.
With all of the attention devoted to pointing fingers after Katrina lately, I do feel sought out. Not necessarily for my mestiza opinion, but for my racial silence. That ends here. It shames me, what game is being played here in my country. Nevermind Iraq, Afghanistan, and the budget shuffle the administration is undergoing. I mean just how much the media and celebrities are cashing in on the hurricane aftermath. "Bush hates black people." Who can say they know for sure besides the man himself? Why are we blaming the federal administration for such indiscreet corruption and a complete shunning of any responsibility at the state level? Why is it so hard for us to accept that some would rather die in the homes they worked so hard for than leave? What if they really do feel they have nothing left to live for? Since when is it our place to live others' lives for them? Do we really value our own lives that little, that we must interfere with people we weren't conscious of before the latest magazine cover hit newsstands?
Around me, it seems those shouting the loudest are ones who have never had to live in a place outside of this great country. There is a reason why we, as Americans, are universally envied overseas: we are the spoiled child. We can have everything and anything and still it is not enough. Always there is someone breathing somewhere near us, not working to please us fast enough. Close the borders. See how quickly your suburban condos will be built. See just how immaculate your lawn is, or how fresh your fruit is when you must labor yourself. Get off your high horse America, and see what is there. Instead of yelling and drawing battle lines you crave to feel safe, cooperate. Here we finally have a chance to show the world how unstoppable we can be, and all we have are sour words?
Yet the truth remains: no matter how low you find yourself, just how far you've fallen in one night through no fault of your own, your neighbors will be the first to ignore what you need, and quickly pass you by. No amount of money in the world will save a state when in the wrong hands. Why are families turning on one another? Why are we not taking our own in? It's not that your neighbors don't care, they want to help. But their education has gotten in their way, in your way. The bubble the ivory tower of academia creates for overseas immersion keeps their eyes on the horizon. They are so far sighted, they don't know what help looks like. They've never been at the bottom themselves, they can't comprehend.
So instead, we are stuck here, those with money and power perpetuating the ghettos. They don't think to visit the wreckage to understand what is fundamentally needed. We're at a crossroads, building thin clapboard houses, filling them with shiny appliances we own ourselves, never thinking to teach the poor how to manage their money. Never showing them how to keep their gas and electricity on for the cold winter chill cheap habitat for humanity houses allow in, one family after another. As we sleep soundly in our beds tonight, is the inevitable disaster and tragedy in life we must endure the problem? Or are we the real issue we're ignoring here?
lasaliente, 21:39
