Spent some time yesterday at Embers, a rainbow clad bar in the Pearl district. Great free drag show. One of the best I'd ever seen. Made me want to be a drag queen. Wasn't expecting to get hit on by old white men CONSTANTLY. Lots of them were there. Chop off a head, and 8 took his place. They were aggressive too. So what did I do? WTF you think? I sold them my cds. I'm a muthafuckin' business woman PAHTNA!
I can only begin to imagine why a gay bar is filled with older "straight" white men who are attracted to black women with dreadlocks. Seems to me like a cultural phenomenon that lies just below the surface of what we highly moral aristocrats consider atypical. I don't care what people do, but I think it's ironic that these guys have wives and kids, yet have gotten away with living their fantasies for 20+ years while black folks can't get away with driving through Pine Lawn after 11pm.
So beyond the social commentary (which always lies under the surface with me, cuz you know I'm an angry psychologist cynic who writes songs about it) I had a friggin BLAST! Those chicks were AMAZING to watch. The costumes were out of control and I found myself playing the "Do you think that's a guy or a chick" game with my companera. The lineup was extensive. There were drag queens (men tucked back in women's attire), kings (women with glued on soul patches in men's attire), and women who just dressed up pretty and lip synced to their favorite techno version of a pop song. It wasn't cheesy at all. You don't get free shows like that all over America. That's for sure...
So remember when I said I want to be a dancer? Well, I never told you, but I told some people. I think I'm going to become a drag queen. Just something to do on the weekdays. We all need a workout regimen. Why not do it in great costume, makeup, and for tips? Gotta make life count people.
Imagine that the people who look like you created all the great destruction and oppression in the entire world and have all the wealth to show for it. You're constantly embarrassed, guilty, and trying to re-write history in order to seem less like Doomsday from Superman. In fact, last year, Texas decided to just completely remove Thomas Jefferson from history books, among other things. Guess he had too many black children. He couldn'tve had black children if he wasn't a-rapin' his slave! Good Christian Whites can't have that blemish on their record.
And did I recently hear on The Colbert Report (which is a guilty pleasure of mine) that people on major news stations are actually "discussing" that George Washington among other early American whites owned slaves and how bad that was? Like, really? All of a sudden, this is an issue...
But enough of the obvious. In my experiences (this is not scientific), I've found that white women have the lowest self-esteem of anyone I've ever met. I could imagine why. If you're the standard, then you have to live up to your standard. All these shows about rich white people and their problems...gotta be difficult to watch those then look at your raggedy life...if you're white. Regarding white men...I wouldn't know. They don't approach me EVERY FUCKING DAY and start telling me about their problems. hehehe.
Now, every white person doesn't have this problem. The comfortably racist and righteously indignant white person doesn't care. They just live their life. The ones who have the most discomfort are the ones who are constantly telling themselves they're not racist...even though they haven't actually done the work to confront their privilege and actively fight racism---MESSAGE! They're the ones who are uncomfortable around Black people because they're afraid the hem of their racism might show. They're the ones who can't dance out of fear of releasing their body parts. Can't say too much around people because their true feelings might come out. Always trying to be a part of what folks of color are doing because their "culture is so rich!" White culture is one of dominance and destruction. You HAVE a culture. You just don't like it.
Yep. Sucks to be white. hehehe. It sucks because your oppression and captivity comes from within and that's the hardest captivity to break from. Only the spirit is real and the spirit of many Whites has been absorbed by the free market. Sad situation.
To end on a positive note: As a friend of mine once said at a Justice Institute meeting "I'm White, but I can change." Racism and oppression does exist. Own it. Then change it.
Yeah whatever. This message is not for racist white people. This message is for people who are still trying to convince racist white people (1) that they're racist and (2) that they should care.
Things to think about:
1. It is not in the interest of a racist white person to fight racism...at least not directly, so get over it. As much as you're not going to eat right and exercise to prevent diabetes and heart disease (which is really fucking easy), they're not going to stop looking at your ass funny because you walked in the room.
2. There is no amount of culturally Caucasian and capitalistically congruent you can act or seem to make a racist white person with power change their opinion about Black people. At best, you'll become one of the "good negroes".
3. You will never be CEO of a Fortune 500 company that you didn't start yourself. Exceptions (a) kill all the white people and blame it on a Mexican, (b) commit a Herman Cain, (c) move to a 3rd World country, usurp the resources, and commit genocide among the people, enslave them, and appoint yourself emperor, or (d) become a pastor.
4. In the world of White, no one cares if you have a perm, locks, braids, shaved head, a mohawk, or plugs out your head. You can look as commercial as you want and someone will always find a reason to cap your salary.
5. If you're Black or White, racism only exists among Blacks and Whites. GTFOHWTBS. Stop being short sighted and naive. There are millions of dynamics of power in the world based on as many different characteristics of people as there are people in the world. Chances are, you contribute negatively to at least 8 of these on a daily basis. Don't think so? Ever heard yourself say "I'm not homophobic! My best friend is gay!" Again, I say, GTFOHWTBS.
I was recently accosted by YET ANOTHER Black person for not explaining to a sole White person among a GROUP of BLACK PEOPLE why their whiteness is privileged. Well, that sole white person who actually spends time having these kinds of conversations among Black people is not a problem to me. The black person who expects me to be the lightening rod of knowledge in every Black//White situation is what bothers me. Mostly they bother me because they interrupted my conversation, my bite of sandwich or whatever the hell else I was doing to make me a part of some bullshit. And frankly, it has nothing to do with race or the conversation. I resent anyone who interrupts me for bullshit. It could be relationship bullshit. It could be judgmental bullshit. Matter of fact, don't even talk to me unless you got your bullshit cleanser today.
So yeah, even though I don't really care to talk about racism to White people, My friend sent me this cartoon and I find it appropriate and funny.
And to end on a positive note: I love having conversations about how to make communities better. These, to me, are productive conversations. The more time and energy I spend in productive dialog, the better I feel that day. Besides, God didn't create racism. God created Africans.
This is week 3 of the the rest of my life. I don't know if I'll be in Portland forever, but I dig it now. The dream of the 90s truly is alive here. I thought it was a joke, but when I walk around downtown, I feel like I'm in a time warp. People are dressed gothic and meth-amphetamines seem to be the drug of choice. I mean, crack is wack, but meth is just wrong. They're very friendly addicts. They run up on you as though they're gonna rob you, then they just say "hi". I really don't see the purpose in that.
While walking on Davis from the Max station in Old Town last night, this meth addicted dude (I knew he was meth addicted...they have this look) ran up on me. Well, he didn't run up on me. I saw him anticipating the run in my peripheral, so by the time he was in full motion, I had already started running. I slowed down when he stopped cold in his tracks and just started yelling "Hi!" Not my usual drug addict interaction. My old neighborhood crack heads would never stop chasing me just because I made it difficult for them. In fact, crack heads are a lot like ghosts. You think you've gotten away from them and they pop up around another corner. Furthermore, crackheads seem to have things thought through a little better. They chase you with goals in mind: they're either gonna rob you or sell you something. Meth addicts...not so much. I guess they think chasing is something they're supposed to do; like they grew up watching crackheads and figured there must be a chase involved. But since they have no real goals, they just run after their target, get as close as they can, then start saying "Hi! Hello! Hi!" first softly, then louder. Weird.
You're probably thinking "Blue, please be careful out there in those mean, mean streets." But you have to understand, the meth addicts are everywhere all the time. Daylight, dusk, doesn't matter. It could be a street full of people; middle of rush hour and a meth addict will start randomly chasing a passer by; sometimes on skateboards. I told you: they have no real plan or goals in mind. They just run around trying to say "hi" to people. I saw this addict catch a woman recently. When he caught her, she looked at him as though to say, "are you gonna rob me?" He looked at her as to say, "I was hoping you'd tell me what to do next." I stood nearby waiting to see if I should call for help or something. After about 4 minutes of this standoff staring contest, I decided my time would be better spent checking my email at a nearby coffee shop where I could still see the scene, but wasn't actually on the street. After about a half hour, I looked back out the coffee shop window. The woman was gone, but the meth addict was still standing there with this confused look on his face.
Speaking of the "dream of the 90s", when I told my broker I was moving to Portland, he started singing "the dream of the 90s is alive in Portland..portland...portland...). Staring at the phone, I was confused; partly by the lyrics, but mostly that my broker suddenly broke out in song. He went on to tell me about this show called Portlandia. So I went to trusty youtube and found a clip. I'd been to Portland before, so I got the humor. Here's the clip:
So, if you're curious, this is exactly what Portland is like. It's uncanny.
