(no subject)
OK, so I haven't posted yet about RaceFail 2009. (If you don't know what RaceFail is, go here: rydra-wong.livejournal.com/, and be prepared to be appalled, moved, disgusted and heartened, by turns.)
I've been excusing myself -- it's not like I've posted more than 5 times in the last 12 months as it is, and I'm not really active in the SF/F world, and no one knows who I am . . . Well, whatever.
I thought I didn't have anything to say that hadn't been already said, and said well. Said better than I can say it, or better than I have the right to say it. But that's no excuse, and I do have something to say.
I don't know what race I am. I can describe my racial background to you, easily. I am half Puerto-Rican and half white. The white half is mostly Irish and French, with a bit of random other smidgens of this and that. When I was a kid, I was so proud to say that one of those smidgens was Micmac Indian -- now I am reluctant to even say it, because I don't want to be One Of Those People who takes her 1/32 of Native American blood and decides she's totally entitled to claim Native American culture as her very own.
I grew up in middle-class suburbia in the 80s and 90s. My high school is one of the best public schools in the country, and it was full of people of all races, all religious and ethnic and economic backgrounds. I had classmates who were Indian, Korean, black, white, Hispanic, Jewish, Muslim, Chinese, pretty much anything you can think of. That is, until I got to about 11th grade, and was mostly in advanced placement classes. Then I didn't see many black kids, or Hispanic kids. I remember sitting next to Erica in AP Physics. She was the only black woman in the class. (In a class of about 20, there were three women; me, Erica, and Jessie, a white woman. I wonder if the other two stuck it out in math and science -- I haven't taken a math or science class since high school myself.) I remember Shani, the only black woman in AP English. I wonder how that felt, for her.
I didn't feel weird for me. I didn't feel Hispanic, although I did identify myself that way. My friends were mostly white (and all geeks).
It wasn't until graduate school that I got around to doing some real work on race and anti-racism, and figuring out that no matter what my heritage is, I have white privilege. I can fit easily into the white world. I've never been pulled aside for extra screening in an airport. I've never been followed suspiciously around a store. I'm not scary to white people, I'm not threatening to them, I'm not seen as different (racially).
And I have to, I have to claim that. But I don't want to dismiss the reality of being half-Hispanic. That's something, too. But what is it? I don't know.
And so I am reluctant to talk. Who am I? Am I a white ally? I hope that I am an *ally*, anyway, although I know that sometimes I fail, that sometimes I say some stupid shit. Hopefully I'm better than I used to be about being defensive when corrected. Hopefully I'm better than I used to be about speaking up when I hear other people saying stupid shit themselves.
I don't feel like I can claim to be a POC, not when I've got all this privilege shining out from my pale-ish skin and my assimilated upbringing and my expensive education. What would it mean, to be a POC with white privilege? It doesn't compute.
What can I do? I can think about where my charitable dollars go. Kiva's pretty good, but I could expand out some -- I've heard some good recommendations recently that I'll be looking into.
I can think about whose books I want to read, and not let myself get away with not buying and reading more books by people of color just because I have some Nalo Hopkinson and Octavia Butler on my shelves. I don't think even 10% of my books are by POC. Not okay. Totally not.
And how much more fun it will be to find new, exciting authors to read than to keep refreshing the RaceFail links and wincing at each new iteration of *painful*, *painful* fail? Hell yeah.
I've been excusing myself -- it's not like I've posted more than 5 times in the last 12 months as it is, and I'm not really active in the SF/F world, and no one knows who I am . . . Well, whatever.
I thought I didn't have anything to say that hadn't been already said, and said well. Said better than I can say it, or better than I have the right to say it. But that's no excuse, and I do have something to say.
I don't know what race I am. I can describe my racial background to you, easily. I am half Puerto-Rican and half white. The white half is mostly Irish and French, with a bit of random other smidgens of this and that. When I was a kid, I was so proud to say that one of those smidgens was Micmac Indian -- now I am reluctant to even say it, because I don't want to be One Of Those People who takes her 1/32 of Native American blood and decides she's totally entitled to claim Native American culture as her very own.
I grew up in middle-class suburbia in the 80s and 90s. My high school is one of the best public schools in the country, and it was full of people of all races, all religious and ethnic and economic backgrounds. I had classmates who were Indian, Korean, black, white, Hispanic, Jewish, Muslim, Chinese, pretty much anything you can think of. That is, until I got to about 11th grade, and was mostly in advanced placement classes. Then I didn't see many black kids, or Hispanic kids. I remember sitting next to Erica in AP Physics. She was the only black woman in the class. (In a class of about 20, there were three women; me, Erica, and Jessie, a white woman. I wonder if the other two stuck it out in math and science -- I haven't taken a math or science class since high school myself.) I remember Shani, the only black woman in AP English. I wonder how that felt, for her.
I didn't feel weird for me. I didn't feel Hispanic, although I did identify myself that way. My friends were mostly white (and all geeks).
It wasn't until graduate school that I got around to doing some real work on race and anti-racism, and figuring out that no matter what my heritage is, I have white privilege. I can fit easily into the white world. I've never been pulled aside for extra screening in an airport. I've never been followed suspiciously around a store. I'm not scary to white people, I'm not threatening to them, I'm not seen as different (racially).
And I have to, I have to claim that. But I don't want to dismiss the reality of being half-Hispanic. That's something, too. But what is it? I don't know.
And so I am reluctant to talk. Who am I? Am I a white ally? I hope that I am an *ally*, anyway, although I know that sometimes I fail, that sometimes I say some stupid shit. Hopefully I'm better than I used to be about being defensive when corrected. Hopefully I'm better than I used to be about speaking up when I hear other people saying stupid shit themselves.
I don't feel like I can claim to be a POC, not when I've got all this privilege shining out from my pale-ish skin and my assimilated upbringing and my expensive education. What would it mean, to be a POC with white privilege? It doesn't compute.
What can I do? I can think about where my charitable dollars go. Kiva's pretty good, but I could expand out some -- I've heard some good recommendations recently that I'll be looking into.
I can think about whose books I want to read, and not let myself get away with not buying and reading more books by people of color just because I have some Nalo Hopkinson and Octavia Butler on my shelves. I don't think even 10% of my books are by POC. Not okay. Totally not.
And how much more fun it will be to find new, exciting authors to read than to keep refreshing the RaceFail links and wincing at each new iteration of *painful*, *painful* fail? Hell yeah.