Kuuuuuum-baaaaaaaa-yaaaaaaaaaaaaa
This is one of the many reasons I hate conversations about interracial relationships:
http://syndicated.livejournal.com/postsecret/211391.html?thread=24706495#t24706495
Everything about them has to be 1) a teaching moment and 2) result in a Kumbaya epiphany.
And if you're a PoC who doesn't have the spoons for MORE free race teaching once you get home after a day of expending that energy to others then you're a mean, evil person who should just stay with your own kind.
I can understand something that apparently this todief0r person can't. I can see how after years and years of trying to "bridge the gaps" with random Whites including those Whites you may have thought yourself rather close to and seeing how wonderfully that worked out, you may be hesitant about dating/marrying a White person and having to deal with that in your own home where YOU should also feel safe and comfortable. And they greatly overestimate how "flexible" and "compromising" your average American White person is on issues of race and culture.
Most of the Whites I've come across simply are not interested in learning about other's cultures. And those that are, the vast majority were only interested in those aspects that supported their already ingrained stereotypes of the group or that supported their own worldview. And then they treat those people and their culture as quaint little objects, interesting curios to take out, inspect, snort approval or diapproval and put back until the next time they need some diversion.
But the vast majority of them are NOT at all interested in anything outside their purview. And it can be very hurtful to encounter this attitude, yes, even from supposedly educated and "progressive" Whites. I remember one of the first T-givings I celebrated with The Man's family. I decided to make collard greens because I wanted to share something of my background with them and because I hadn't had them in a while. And it's hard to eff up collard greens. The basic recipe is salt, pepper, water, greens and maybe a hamhock or some bacon thrown in (if you use salt pork, you can forget the extra salt part), and then boil those suckers or slow cook them in a crock pot for hours.
So, I bring my greens to the dinner. I was so proud of them and eager to share this aspect of myself and my culture with my alleged new-found "family." I placed my offering on the buffet with the rest of the food.
The first reactions I got were of the "What is THAT?" variety and not the "OMG, that looks great! What is that?" kind. It was the "EEEEEEEEEEEEWWWWWW!!!! What is THAT crap?!" kind accompanied by the wrinkled noses (I didn't make chitlins, mofos) and frowned up faces. My heart started to deflate. They asked what the ingredients were like they were trying to make sure I wasn't attempting to poison them. After a while, I coldly told them, that if they didn't want to eat any, fine. More for me (at that moment The Man corrected me with, "Um, you mean more for US!"). None of them even sampled it.
I've never made collard greens for them since.
But, as you all can guess, it was about much more than collard greens or food. That instance brought it home to me that my Black parts were really not welcome among them. That as long as I was a White girl dipped in chocolate, I was okay. They reacted because I had brought unadulterated Negroness into their lily White world and it was NOT welcome. So guess what, they don't get to see those aspects of me. I refuse to share it with them, not because I am ashamed of them or think them unworthy or inferior. But because I do not want them condescended to, patronized, spat on or shat on. Now according to the above commenter, I'm not sharing because I'm being an obstinate, narrow-minded, selfish Negress who should have just stuck with her own kind. But this is shit that PoC in America have to go through ALL THE DAMN TIME. And oftentimes the stakes are MUCH higher than hurt fee fees at a family dinner.
But it did hurt me, and it made me not trust them when they insist I'm "one of the family." Because I'm not, not the whole me. Only parts of me are. So those are the only parts they get to see. They're ass out on most of what makes me, me. And that is THEIR choice and fault, not mine because I'm too mean, lazy or selfish to "bridge the gap."
I'm lucky that is not the case with my husband who sees nothing wrong, icky or declasse about collard greens and sweet potato pie. He even MADE me some sweet potato pie which we both gobbled up (and yes, we even ate it for breakfast). I have often asked him how he turned out the way he did because, while they are nice people in many ways, and we do get along for the most part, his family did not and does not move in the most diverse circle. I think they've known closely three Black women in their lives and that's because he married TWO of them. He attributes it to his time in the Army. I think it's something about him because even his hippy brother runs in a very White circle with a few chocolate sprinkles here and there.
But I'm lucky in that I found a partner who saw Blackness and Black American culture as normal and normalized and not as some fucked-up perversion of "real" (read: White) American culture or some jacked-up Other. So he doesn't hold it against me that I prefer sweet potato pie over pumpkin pie (and even though I've expressed that opinion to his family, I've yet to see a sweet potato pie at any of the family dinners. There'll be pumpkin at the holiday gatherings always though). And yes, I've tried various pumpkin pies even those praised to high heaven. Still, nope.
He doesn't think I'm ignorant or uneducated when I use AAVE to make a point. He understands I can and do speak Standard English and throw in enough SAT words. And he ACCEPTS what I have to say about Black culture, especially the one I'm familiar with. When I tell him that, in the Black culture I grew up in, being able to dance was socially very important. Being a Black person who couldn't dance put you at GREAT social disadvantage and it was WORSE for guys than for girls. That knowing the latest dances and being able to do them proficiently was important even in grade school. That as teenagers, at our parties, the emphasis was on dancing and the music you could dance. It wasn't like my husband and most White people I know assume, that it was all about drinking because that's what THEY and their White peers did, that their teenage experience was the universal American one. In fact, at our parties, if you were trying to get drunk or encourage others to do so, you were looked at askance because to us, the point of a party was to dance and meet boys/girls. We even joked about how White parties (from what we saw via the media) seemed boring as hell because it was just a bunch of folks hanging out, drinking and playing loud-ass, screaming rock music no one could dance to. And why even PLAY music if you're not gonna dance? And they didn't even serve any food (and for the longest time, we'd joke, even into adulthood that if you were going to a party at a White person's house, you'd better eat before you left or you'll be running to Micky D's afterwards starving). And if they did, it was chips and dip not the eat-with-a-plate-and-knife-and-fork food served at Black parties (and Black folks WOULD talk about you if you didn't have food or enough food).*
Yeah, I was lucky he understood and accepted what I told him about my Black culture without me having to defend or debate my points, my life with him. I wish my dealings with other Whites were as smooth. But since they're not, I can see why some of us would rather forgo dealing with them on a romantic basis even though that was not my choice.
Debating on x-posting this to interracial.
* To get a sense of what parties are like for many middle-class Black kids, watch the FIRST House Party movie (the good one) and Sean Paul's "Get Busy" video and note the lack of booze and the full buffet of food with Daddy and his grown, male friends/relatives chaperoning.
http://syndicated.livejournal.com/postsecret/211391.html?thread=24706495#t24706495
Everything about them has to be 1) a teaching moment and 2) result in a Kumbaya epiphany.
And if you're a PoC who doesn't have the spoons for MORE free race teaching once you get home after a day of expending that energy to others then you're a mean, evil person who should just stay with your own kind.
I can understand something that apparently this todief0r person can't. I can see how after years and years of trying to "bridge the gaps" with random Whites including those Whites you may have thought yourself rather close to and seeing how wonderfully that worked out, you may be hesitant about dating/marrying a White person and having to deal with that in your own home where YOU should also feel safe and comfortable. And they greatly overestimate how "flexible" and "compromising" your average American White person is on issues of race and culture.
Most of the Whites I've come across simply are not interested in learning about other's cultures. And those that are, the vast majority were only interested in those aspects that supported their already ingrained stereotypes of the group or that supported their own worldview. And then they treat those people and their culture as quaint little objects, interesting curios to take out, inspect, snort approval or diapproval and put back until the next time they need some diversion.
But the vast majority of them are NOT at all interested in anything outside their purview. And it can be very hurtful to encounter this attitude, yes, even from supposedly educated and "progressive" Whites. I remember one of the first T-givings I celebrated with The Man's family. I decided to make collard greens because I wanted to share something of my background with them and because I hadn't had them in a while. And it's hard to eff up collard greens. The basic recipe is salt, pepper, water, greens and maybe a hamhock or some bacon thrown in (if you use salt pork, you can forget the extra salt part), and then boil those suckers or slow cook them in a crock pot for hours.
So, I bring my greens to the dinner. I was so proud of them and eager to share this aspect of myself and my culture with my alleged new-found "family." I placed my offering on the buffet with the rest of the food.
The first reactions I got were of the "What is THAT?" variety and not the "OMG, that looks great! What is that?" kind. It was the "EEEEEEEEEEEEWWWWWW!!!! What is THAT crap?!" kind accompanied by the wrinkled noses (I didn't make chitlins, mofos) and frowned up faces. My heart started to deflate. They asked what the ingredients were like they were trying to make sure I wasn't attempting to poison them. After a while, I coldly told them, that if they didn't want to eat any, fine. More for me (at that moment The Man corrected me with, "Um, you mean more for US!"). None of them even sampled it.
I've never made collard greens for them since.
But, as you all can guess, it was about much more than collard greens or food. That instance brought it home to me that my Black parts were really not welcome among them. That as long as I was a White girl dipped in chocolate, I was okay. They reacted because I had brought unadulterated Negroness into their lily White world and it was NOT welcome. So guess what, they don't get to see those aspects of me. I refuse to share it with them, not because I am ashamed of them or think them unworthy or inferior. But because I do not want them condescended to, patronized, spat on or shat on. Now according to the above commenter, I'm not sharing because I'm being an obstinate, narrow-minded, selfish Negress who should have just stuck with her own kind. But this is shit that PoC in America have to go through ALL THE DAMN TIME. And oftentimes the stakes are MUCH higher than hurt fee fees at a family dinner.
But it did hurt me, and it made me not trust them when they insist I'm "one of the family." Because I'm not, not the whole me. Only parts of me are. So those are the only parts they get to see. They're ass out on most of what makes me, me. And that is THEIR choice and fault, not mine because I'm too mean, lazy or selfish to "bridge the gap."
I'm lucky that is not the case with my husband who sees nothing wrong, icky or declasse about collard greens and sweet potato pie. He even MADE me some sweet potato pie which we both gobbled up (and yes, we even ate it for breakfast). I have often asked him how he turned out the way he did because, while they are nice people in many ways, and we do get along for the most part, his family did not and does not move in the most diverse circle. I think they've known closely three Black women in their lives and that's because he married TWO of them. He attributes it to his time in the Army. I think it's something about him because even his hippy brother runs in a very White circle with a few chocolate sprinkles here and there.
But I'm lucky in that I found a partner who saw Blackness and Black American culture as normal and normalized and not as some fucked-up perversion of "real" (read: White) American culture or some jacked-up Other. So he doesn't hold it against me that I prefer sweet potato pie over pumpkin pie (and even though I've expressed that opinion to his family, I've yet to see a sweet potato pie at any of the family dinners. There'll be pumpkin at the holiday gatherings always though). And yes, I've tried various pumpkin pies even those praised to high heaven. Still, nope.
He doesn't think I'm ignorant or uneducated when I use AAVE to make a point. He understands I can and do speak Standard English and throw in enough SAT words. And he ACCEPTS what I have to say about Black culture, especially the one I'm familiar with. When I tell him that, in the Black culture I grew up in, being able to dance was socially very important. Being a Black person who couldn't dance put you at GREAT social disadvantage and it was WORSE for guys than for girls. That knowing the latest dances and being able to do them proficiently was important even in grade school. That as teenagers, at our parties, the emphasis was on dancing and the music you could dance. It wasn't like my husband and most White people I know assume, that it was all about drinking because that's what THEY and their White peers did, that their teenage experience was the universal American one. In fact, at our parties, if you were trying to get drunk or encourage others to do so, you were looked at askance because to us, the point of a party was to dance and meet boys/girls. We even joked about how White parties (from what we saw via the media) seemed boring as hell because it was just a bunch of folks hanging out, drinking and playing loud-ass, screaming rock music no one could dance to. And why even PLAY music if you're not gonna dance? And they didn't even serve any food (and for the longest time, we'd joke, even into adulthood that if you were going to a party at a White person's house, you'd better eat before you left or you'll be running to Micky D's afterwards starving). And if they did, it was chips and dip not the eat-with-a-plate-and-knife-and-fork food served at Black parties (and Black folks WOULD talk about you if you didn't have food or enough food).*
Yeah, I was lucky he understood and accepted what I told him about my Black culture without me having to defend or debate my points, my life with him. I wish my dealings with other Whites were as smooth. But since they're not, I can see why some of us would rather forgo dealing with them on a romantic basis even though that was not my choice.
Debating on x-posting this to interracial.
* To get a sense of what parties are like for many middle-class Black kids, watch the FIRST House Party movie (the good one) and Sean Paul's "Get Busy" video and note the lack of booze and the full buffet of food with Daddy and his grown, male friends/relatives chaperoning.