On Whiteness

On Whiteness

DISCLAIMER …even though everything within me is telling me not to post this, not to be angry, not to say these things, not to stoop to the level of “white equality,” i’m doing it anyway for those of you who cannot scream in rage because the powers that be will not hear you due to their racism blinding them to your voice. …perhaps they will not hear me either because i am a minority female as well, but i am part of a different group, and therefore, may be able to say what everyone wants to say but can’t because…well, it’ll upset the whites. …but perhaps it’s also time for me to take advantage of my racial positioning in this racist country and say whatever the fuck i want because maybe…just maybe…due to my race…i’ll get away with it. …in short…perhaps it’s time to use the same language that whites use to talk about white people. 

You were warned. Read at your own risk.

…to those of you whites out there who are perhaps insulted by being called white or insulted by being lumped in with “those types of white people” or who are insulted by being labeled as a racist for being white, FUCK YOU. If you’re white, you’re racist. If you’re white, you’re a murderer. If you’re white, you’re an oppressor. If you’re white, you’re an enemy of progress. If you’re white, you’ve done nothing to truly earn anything you’ve been GIVEN. If you’re white, you’re lazy as fuck cause you’re always willing to pay someone or enslave someone (with money unearned but given, remember) to do the work for you, while you take all the credit and the profits. 

That is the definition of white written in the blood of white behavior. Whether or not you’re actively racist, an actual murderer, whether or not you “embody whiteness,” in the eyes of your own white world, you are white according to the color of your skin. Silence is compliance, and your complicity and overwhelming ignorance is disgusting (and you white friends of mine out there have not been given a “pass” because we’re friends). DO THE FUCKING WORK!

And yea, trust me, I fully understand that irritating idiom that I’ve had spit in my face time and time again that “You catch more bees with honey than vinegar,” but guess what type of people say this sorta shit, WHITE PEOPLE. 

I’m at a point now where I feel as though I shouldn’t know or associate myself with any white people, but my lifemate and bodybuddy is white, AND HE HAS DONE THE WORK, and he continues to do the hard work of understanding his new position and responsibility in this world. 

And guess what, his new role, his new responsibility means no longer being on top, no longer getting things he hasn’t earned, no longer being the representative of competence, no longer given the credit for work he has done. My white person has done the hard work, has cried tears at the world he grew up in, has extricated himself from a well-off family because they continue to prove that they care more about their white selves than about equality and justice for all. I don’t need to cut him out of my life because he supports me and everyone else trying to fight for their freedom. I can’t say this about all the white people I know, unfortunately. 

So yea, I am about to write off all white people (my white parents included [yes, I’m a 100% Korean Adoptee]) because this is just about the last time we will need them. And the only reason why I do not feel compelled to continue to kiss white ass is because white people need to vote for Biden this cycle for their own well-being. 

Don’t get it crooked, most white people will not be voting for Biden out of some newly envisioned utopia of an America where American descendants of slaves and all other oppressed groups become equal. Most white people will “do the right thing” this election due to one fact, and one fact only: 45 is destroying their ECONOMIC way of life. Most white people will “do the right thing,” this time, whether or not it’s in the name of racial equality because their financial necks are officially on the line now. 

And so, you can write them off because next time, in the next presidential election and every election to follow, we will not need them, because they will be the minority. Yes, I know this is not the right thing to say, but I do not care. Why should I?

This is why, if you are white, you’d better get on this racial equality bandwagon, because every single person who knows you knows whose side you’re on, right now, and soon, being white, a descendant* of murderers, will be a liability. So befriend some minorities now, if you’re lucky enough to know one, before it’s too late.  

And yea, I’m henceforth judging white people by the color of their skin because that’s white equality. 

Oh and because when it comes to mass shootings and whether or not my life is in danger, whiteness is synonymous with murderer. So, yea, if you’re “white” you might also want to figure out a way to extricate yourself from whiteness and what it means to be white because when the world sees you, they see the color of your skin, and the color of your skin is white, and white equals murder. 

Oh, you don’t know how to be something other than white?, oh wah, boo boo, Welcome to the Club.

*don’t come at me with whatever asian stereotypes you think will make asians “as bad as whites” …i know them all…white people have already told them all to me.

Petty Report: Cancelled?

Petty Report: Cancelled?

Is it petty to write about a person while they’re in your presence? Is it the same as talking (or whispering) behind their backs? What if that person is a friend of yours? What if that person turns out to say racist things, even though you are certain (90% after the first comment with a gentle decline by 5% with each further comment until you reach 50% at which point you completely give up on this friend) that this friend is not a racist. I know and can rationalize that there is a difference between racial bias and racial bigotry, racial ignorance and racial discrimination. I know this, but the reality is that to have the patience to make a person aware of their racial bias or racial ignorance is to tolerate their racist comments, sometimes, for a long time. And I am not a fan of tolerating harmful people. Nevertheless, I am at the point in my life with this person that I need to make a decision about whether or not I will tolerate the comments in hopes of educating.

I am not a fan of educating the ignorant (and no, I do not believe I am or am even in the vicinity of being the most intelligent, but I know that I am smart enough to understand many things). I am, however, a fan of watching people grow and change, blossom and learn. And so perhaps, the problem truly exists within my general understanding that I am also “white enough” to where people forget that I am not white, and then occasionally, they say racist shit, which means that everyone in my orbit is a bit racist, since the majority of my orbit is white. This, however, cannot be true because this particular person is the first friendship within which this particular issue has come into being.

Then, perhaps, the problem revolves around my general impatience with people who say dumb shit in the first place. I have little to no tolerance for people who have nothing original to say, and oddly enough, this always includes racists comments. Of course, I’ve experienced racists comments said by every type of person, but I have not had a personal friend who does this, not until this one friend. I’m perplexed. I’m confused. I’m more confused than actually concerned about whether or not this person is a good person. I couldn’t care less about his/her goodness. I am confused about how a person of this age, in this day in age, could openly say things without even a hint of awareness about how racially charged the thing said is. I wish I could quote-unquote write what he/she said, but I cannot for then that person will know I am talking about him/her (but actually, the chances that they read this are slim, if extant at all).

Thus, I am forced to simply sit here in contemplation as I continue to have to interact with this person, regularly. The avoidance tactic was not received well, but we are on good terms right at this moment. Eggshells, nevertheless, remain. And so, I do not know if I’m asking for help so much as I’m asking for a compatriot in this particular struggle, the struggle of not wanting to merely “cancel” a friend. I also know, at the same time, that it is not my responsibility to fix anyone. So, there’s that.

Until next time.

Am I a POC? And what is white, anyway?

Am I a POC? And what is white, anyway?

Am I?

I suppose that to know the answer to such a question requires the answer to a lot of other questions, namely, if I’m Asian—therefore descendent from Asian Culture—then what is Caucasian Culture? And is that how you know if you are or are not white, if you were raised in Caucasian Culture? Perhaps it is this question, specifically, that whites, in general, fear to know. How does that saying go?, You never try to find that which you would rather not see. And it is under this all-encompassing shame of whiteness that has ultimately led to a nation full of white people who have no culture, no identity. The world is not divided. White people, all over the world, are divided, and they have no cultural center or glue to rely on because to rely on Caucasian Culture would be to colonize.

Look at any, scientifically backed, global census. Here, just check out the Wikipedia page for Demographics of the World. That’s a simple enough check, right? Alright, so you didn’t need to scroll far to get a percentage distribution for the races of the world. If you add up the percentages of the populations of continents that are “not white,” you get a whopping 80%, which reveals that a healthy majority of the world is “not white.” All I’m saying is that when the news or the news or the news spews gossip about how the “nation is divided,”  “the world is divided,” what they’re really saying is that “white people are divided,” therefore, the nation is white, the world is white. But the United States of America is not only white, just like the world is not only “not white.” It never has been. This land upon which America stands had already been settled by “non-whites.” And according to today’s standards, Spaniards are “not white.” Are you starting to see my predicament? If everyone is “not white” then who is “white” and what does being “white” mean? Luckily for us “non-white”—and oh the irony now—the answer has been documented quite well by all those white people. It’s called History. In reality, we ought to refer to it as the History of Only the Good Aspects of White America, but then all of those atrocities would need to be documented in fairness and equality, and white people are divided on this issue.

So, what is Caucasian Culture? Fortunately for those “non-whites” out there, I have an inside scoop. As a “person of color,” I was raised by two white people. And honestly, it was awesome. Even though I look Asian, I had white parents, and we lived in a very small mountain town. Everyone knew who I was; everyone knew I was my white parents’ child. Obviously, I never thought about it that way when I was growing up; I simply never realized that I was “not white.” Intellectually I knew I was Asian, look at me, but that understanding did not come with the filter of being treated like an Asian. Sure, there were probably some people who treated me like an Asian, but everyone knew me, and so issues like that went largely unnoticed. There was this one time, though, sometime in grade school, when my dad, brother and I ran through Subway—as one was wont to do in those days—and while the guy making our sandwiches was ringing us up, he looked at me and my brother, and then, he looked at my dad and said, “They must really look like their mother.” My brother laughed, the way that he always laughed when one reveals their ignorance to him. My father scoffed as if the guy was a fool. And I looked at both of them, the only two males I had ever loved at that point in my life, and then looked at the guy behind the counter and asked, “What?” I honestly didn’t really understand what he was suggesting. My dad gave the guy a dirty look without another word. My brother muttered something and ushered me along to our table. I had every privilege and opportunity that every other “white kid” in my town had. If I had encountered a problem, two white people would come to my rescue, not two more “persons of color.” But even in all of this privilege, I was never taught or it was never explained to me that Caucasian Culture equaled Racist Culture.

Don’t get me wrong, I had the best parents when it came to their responsibility to instill within me a sense of and pride for my own race, to flesh out my identity in its entirety. And honestly, I think my mother will be disappointed to read my father’s reaction. She, being a masterful squeaky wheel, would have taught that guy a lesson about adoption. I can feel her now wanting to reach out and touch my face, tell me that I’m beautiful and that there’s no hair like Asian hair and no eyes as beautiful as Asian eyes, but she’s biased. No matter, we traveled as a family to South Korea during the summer before I started seventh grade. Before that trip, my mom attempted—on too many an occasion—to cook Korean food. We attended Korean Heritage Camp every summer and learned all about what it meant to be Korean, to grow an appreciation for why we look the way that we look that our differences are not just superficial. Koreans are different peoples, they have a culture, a way of life, that is not the same as the one I am growing up in. All of this effort, on top of also sending me around the world before I graduated from high school, forced upon me an innate understanding that everyone is different. There are no two people who are the same. How could you possibly treat an entire population of people the same way be it good or bad? The privileges of my childhood are privileges that, when whites say “people of color,” oppressed people do not have set into the palm of their hand, their only decision being whether or not you want to go on safari in South Africa.

Am I “white” then, if I experienced all of the privileges of “being white?” Well, first and foremost, I would never want to be white. No offense, but just look at History, white history! Caucasians are notoriously racist bigots with nothing on their minds but to control the lives and well-being of anyone “not white.” All “non-whites” are beneath the white man, and white history has shown us little else but this cultural consistency. So, what is Caucasian Culture? I’ll say it. The white man is Death. When the white man arrives, “non-whites” die. When the white man wants, “non-whites” die. When the white man takes, “non-whites” die. When the white man saves, still “non-whites” die. Wherever the white man goes, destruction follows, death in destruction’s wake. Obviously, no one is so naive to think that only white men are capable of such destruction. Nay, all men are capable of such destruction. All races are capable of such destruction, even of its own people. But that ought to be ANCIENT history by now. And, guess what, probably so capable are also women, but the men of the world have little to no idea what women of the past were capable of. We’re starting to find out now, though. My bet is that life for all people will be better with women in charge, just look at all the other apex mammals.

But today, here in the United States, we are not discussing the ills of other nations, the strife between people of the same race and nation. We are discussing white America. And the history of white America is not one to be admired. And yet, we are all sitting here today, in America, the great nation of freedom. And we want more. We want more. We have been groomed to be groundbreakers (literally, think of the Oregon Trail days), innovators, aspirants of the best, but unfortunately, this aspiration has turned into a sickly greed demon refusing to acknowledge the position of white privilege. Of course, not all white people subscribe to Caucasian Culture, but enough of them do and have split open the world of white people. White people are divided. “Non-whites” know what equality is because we can see it from the outside. Unfortunately, white people today do not even seem to know what equality is. Not only do whites treat “non-whites” terribly, they also, and have also throughout white history, treat poor white people just as poorly. So, what’s a poor white person to do: Support the fight and make sure that all people are equal, or do they ensure that they can rise through the ranks of the white world that continues to rule over and oppress all people?

I do not know what stimulates white people to fight for themselves over the good of the whole, but I do know that when your life’s survival is on the line, you are only thinking about Number One, yourself. Which then begs the question, why are all these white people in white America so poor that they’ve been resigned to survival mode? This is why I do not blame poor white people for not being on the side of all people. I blame the rich white people for taking such horrible care of their own people that they cannot do anything more beyond surviving from day to day. Shame on you, to all of you from every race and nation.

Fortunately, for me, I do not know what it is like to be white, but, like I stated earlier, I do know how awesome it is to reap all of the benefits of white privilege. At least, I used to. All of this “white privilege” disappeared once I represented myself, an Asian. Outside of the small town from whence I came, no one knows who my parents are, and worse, I am now in a relationship, and I fear that people assume that I’ve simply married a white guy, and I did, but my last name is not his white last name; it’s my very own white last name, my father’s white last name. And now, I don’t know if that’s any different or any better. In short, I used to be a “non-white” white person or “Twinkie,” but now I’m finding out that I’ve been “non-white” for quite some time. I have probably been a Person Of Color in the eyes of the world since the day I left for college, never to live again under my parents’ roof except for visits. But I only realized this a few days ago.

It all started, fittingly, over an IG convo I was having with an old friend of mine from college. We were chatting about Korean food, obviously, that’s what Koreans do. And then we started talking about my writing. In the end, she called me a POC author. And then I Googled “POC author.” And then I realized that I am a Person Of Color. I didn’t know whether to cry or scream. I’m not mad at my friend, obviously, she may be capitalizing on this “uplifting of minorities” in the publishing industry herself. If anything, I am extremely grateful for her essentially telling me that I live in David Foster Wallace’s “water.” Rudely awoken, I got to thinking … and writing. And I’ve come to zero conclusions, except for one, that perhaps has a few parts. First, white America sees me as Asian, but I’m culturally “white.” Second, white America sees me as Asian, but I’m not culturally Asian. Do not even get me started about being a “non-white” white person in Korea, that’s a story for another time.

I cannot live up to the stereotypes of Asian-Americans who live under the rule of a Tiger Mom. Neither can most Asian-Americans! And no one applies the stereotypes of whites on my Asian face. Whites are the most self-absorbed when learning about other people and cultures. Nothing makes me feel more diminished then when some white guy asks me where I’m from and when I respond, “Colorado,” they say, “No, where are you from?” If you are white and are reading this and thinking, “But the guy’s just trying to be nice. You’re the one saying that ‘whites are self-absorbed,’ but look, the guy’s trying to get to know you.” Well, sure, I hear you, but that’s not exactly the point. Do white guys ask you (I was picturing a blonde Texan in a pearl snap shirt and fringe tassel vest, with a short denim skirt and cowboy boots, despite never having ridden a horse or any live animal) where you’re “really” from? Didn’t think so. He only asked me because of my race not in order to learn anything about me as a person. It’s like someone complimenting your makeup. Some people are into it, but I do not understand the logic of feeling complimented when someone is praising your ability to be fake. It all comes down to that age old argument, “I do not have a choice.” Whites use this argument to get out of sticky situations. “Non-whites” are forced to rely upon it to try to make whites understand. And with race and sexuality and physical ability and intelligence and anything to do with variations beyond our control because they happen in the womb, all of these Civil Rights, we have to believe in them, uphold them, and then create a world that treats people as people not as a color.

So, no. I reject your offer to color me. I am a person. I am a human. That’s it. There’s nothing more to it. So to all my people out there, do we take advantage of this white olive branch and accept that they accept us and ultimately, get along striving toward equality? I mean, the whites have a lot going for them. Or do we give up on white people and just take them down? Honestly, I don’t really want to interact with anyone white or “non-white” who isn’t going to treat me like a human, first and foremost. So, could all the racists, bigots and misogynists please stand up? Oh, wait. We already see you.

 

Appropriate Not Appropriated

Appropriate Not Appropriated

HOY2: D236

Wednesday Wonderer

I was watching my usual morning movie this morning, which, if anyone’s curious, was Ant-Man. This, of course, is not about that movie, but just as an aside, I do find the thing quite entertaining. It’s one of my favorites of the MCU simply because it’s really lighthearted, and Paul Rudd was a surprising choice that I think worked out surprisingly well. But again, this is not about that. As the movie’s credits were rolling, I was overcome with the intense sensation to experience the new Black Panther trailer. I had seen it once at this point, but I needed to watch it again because something was gnawing at me.

 

The thing I so thoroughly enjoyed about the trailer was the soundtrack. If you haven’t seen the trailer, the music in the thing is a kickass beat of a, most definitely, hip-hop nature –that’s the part that made me wonder. When I watched the trailer the first time, I remember thinking, “Holy shit, that beat is so sick.” Immediately after that thought, I had this thought, “I hope some non-hip-hop-affiliated white guy didn’t produce that track.” The entire situation was quickly forgotten because the lifemate and I were in the throws of Game Four of the NBA Finals, so unfortunately, I did nothing about the latter thought … until today. Read more