Problems with being me

Ho hum, here I go again!

I was just at a going away gathering and came away feeling rather embarrassed. In trying to go with the flow with trying to start conversations and introduce myself—like I normally don't—I ended up making a fool out of myself several times. This is me however. I don't always say the right things at the right time, I was never that cool to begin with, so attempts seem quite futile at times. I knew it would be rude to be the odd wallflower on the margins, so I figured I would just be me, and ended up being weird. What causes that extra sting is that I was around other black people like myself for once. Except when I speak or be myself, I am reminded that I am not like other black people, and that they more than likely have a strong desire to disown me. 

The dream goggles of marginal acceptance came off when a certain so-and-so showed up acting like he didn't know me and only bothered to speak to me—to say bye—when I was saying my goodbyes. I honestly have given this person no real tangible reason to dislike me as much as he clearly does—I mean the nonverbal cues speak volumes. Tonight however, a scenario popped into my head that involved me actually confronting this attitude ridden stranger, punching him in the face several times and saying “Now you have a tangible reason not to like me...chump!” and then walking off with only shocked stares following ("Steppin' Razor" is playing in the background). 

The fact that I am so bothered by such continual occurrences means I have a long way to go before gaining a true sense of self acceptance. What makes this challenging is knowing that around anybody, but especially other black people, I feel like I am in permanent high school. I can't escape from the constant judgment that comes with me being myself! It's not that I'm a total slob or anything, I just “talk funny” and have a rather awkward demeanor at times. I'm not sure what else has me being elected for an even more marginalized status than usual but it kills the shit out of my self-confidence, and I'm fricken 29! Time and time again I ask myself, WHAT DID I DO? What did I do to offend these people so? What am I to these people? 

I know I sound like a whiny victim; I just cant help it when stuff like this keeps coming up. I honestly do nothing but try to be polite and strike up some semblance of a conversation. Yet, all I get is brick walls of attitude  like I am unworthy of being taken seriously as a human being for some reason! What would these people say about me if I were to die tomorrow I wonder? These people who could give two farts about me on any given day? It is soul crushing to feel so alone because I'm not this, that or black enough. Ugh, how scummy must I appear to these people, my so-called fellow human beings? If any of those people needed help tomorrow, I would give my all to do what I could, while those same people—especially mr. so-and-so—would probably set me on fire if they thought they could get away with it (and in this town they probably could).

Here I am trying to find a path toward healing, understanding, and love, and I keep coming back to stuff like this. I am certainly not thrilled by such inner turmoil and am troubled by not knowing when or how to get to a place where stuff like this doesn't bother me because I am okay with who I am enough to know that no real harm is meant by these people (or maybe I'm dreaming again). Days like this make me want to close up permanently. However I cannot help but revert to that childhood self that loves reaching for the stars and the heavens. Maybe my people (real non-shady, awesome people) are up there too. How to strengthen myself to the point where I can withstand the dangers of reaching is a mystery that is yet to be solved.  

Institutional Turmoil

“It is the mind in us that yields to the laws made by us, but never the spirit in us.”

--Kahlil Gibran

There is so much going on in my head lately. Much of it has to do with being a living contradiction within a living contradiction of a graduate program. Why is it that no one wants to discuss the reproduction taking place simultaneously with the critique and resistance of the status quo within which we reside? How can ideals of change, justice and betterment be professed and aspired to, when at the drop of a hat, the maintenance of oppressive structures are upheld and enforced on Others perceived to be a threat? What happened to conflict resolution; to understanding; to putting in the work that goes toward defying the status quo which means dealing with discomforting things, people, ideas? We talk of disruption as a powerful tool that leads to a multitude of possibilities in ways of being that are possible, yet treat those people, things, and ideas that disrupt as a problematics in need of reprimanding if not removal.

I am constantly struggling with finding my voice and expressing it with confidence. When I experience the turmoil of these contradictions taking place, I am bewildered. I thought the point of the academic endeavor was to become a self-actualized scholar, which meant journeying through the landscape of ideas and issues and emerging with the formulation of one's own voice and way of knowing and doing things. Yet I am a witness to the shaping power of our figure heads, and the reality that these people hold our lives and livelihoods in their hands. It is they who must sign the paper of approval. How can I think that I have the power to become when it has to meet the approval of the powers that be? Yet the powers that be behave as if they have no power; as though we are their colleagues; that is until we are either met with bureaucratic realities of things like coursework, exams, and other tests of measurement, or in need of usually negative sanctioning.

Must I always conform to what is inherently contradictory? I am clearly not okay with this yet feel as though, when attempting to articulate this inner turmoil, that it is the institution that is defended by way of the issue being made personal, rather than effectively examined with alternatives to be considered. The people with power are suddenly powerless to the workings of the institution and those that have a problem can either shape up and conform or just go away. Those that have been treated well by the institution have a hard time seeing things as troubling, reducing responses to critiques of it as a personal problem to be met with individualized solutions. And so the ways of institutionalization continue.  

But I don't want it to be this way! I want meaningful work and relationships to emerge from my journey. For the powerful to be transparent in their power yet open to alternatives to institutional ways of being.  For those around me and myself to be willing to work with and through the troubling for the sake of being all the better for it instead of silencing it. I want a mentor, friend, and collaborator, not just someone to defer to because of their position. I want to be okay with expressing what's in my soul without fear of being shut down. Challenge me, but not for the purpose of belittling. I am in need of much nurturing and realize that institutions don't hug back, but refuse to believe that those that have been institutionalized   have no humanity, no soul, no desire to make things different. It doesn't have to be this way. When will we let our spirits, knowing and feeling what is right, lead us? 

Occupied by someone else's Love: a critical review

Here's my scrappy perception of the film Occupy Love

Firstly the film as a documentary is overtly academic. A question is being asked in a way that assumes that everyone knows what is being asked and why. That question is something along the lines of 'how is what you're doing--as a social activist--or what is going on--with fill-in-the-blank social movement--part of or a reflection of a love story?' or something along these lines. When the film maker mentioned that most people looked at him like he was crazy, no one wondered why. Silly people! Can't you see what this man is trying to say?! That seems to be an exaggerated response but a noteworthy one nonetheless. No one bothered to consider that the idea of love or the romanticizing of a particular aspect of social movements--that they are happening--should be examined or discussed before acting on it in such a universalized manner. No one else felt troubled by the combination of Occupy and Love besides me? The idea of Occupation as a historically problematic phenomenon that is in direct opposition to Love is in need of consideration as I see it.

And that's when it hit me.

This film is part of a trilogy that documents one man's understanding of people's engagement in social movements. Three films that show a progression of one person's understanding of a thing that feature individuals and groups that serve as a conduit through which this understanding is reached and expressed. When approached in this way, my understanding of the film remains that it is one that is academic, because it is a documentary, but one with a deeply personal, borderlining on selfish purpose.  

It would be great if these films were the start of a conversation rather than a giant assumption of the perception of various social movements. In a multitude of ways, he was on to something. Our connection to one another, the love that spurs one to act or react to various crises, the messiness of love.  Yet this messiness is not something that is examined. Only the happening of this lovely thing was celebrated.

Again I must remind myself that this is a documentation of one person's perceptions of a social phenomenon. The documentarian is the star of the story, the people featured are  the supporting cast. The truth of this is well masked by way of film in a way similar to academics and their use of jargon. The picture painted is one that says this is what is happening. Not often does the document express, this is my understanding of what is happening. Such  a monologue should be open to conversation, especially when it comes to love and the occupation of it. I mean, what are we talking about here? What should we be talking about? Should love be thought of in this way? What do you mean by love? No one was privy to this conversation, only the assumption that love has to be what is going on here.

That along with unacknowledged white privilege--as in at times  the film seemed like this  guy's safari experience with social movements, which included some pretty dangerous moments that privilege likely allowed him to escape, in other words, his investment was in the storytelling not in the people with their complex humanity being used to tell the story; indeed he always had a way in and out and no meaningful connections to any place or people in particular, not to mention his anybody can do it attitude about telling these stories with no sense of the politics involved in getting such stories made or heard--were my points of discomfort with this film.  My moments of hopefulness were found in the connections made with the hope that emerges from critical moments in time, our ability to come together and act, and a sense of love and spirit that is the essence of such actions.

It would be cool if a multitude of folks made responses to this film that become a multidimensional discussion about love and social movements--especially those that highlight the messiness, contradictions, and counternarratives that exist as part of these things. There is constellation of truths to be found within a topic that veers dangerously close to overt romanticism.

A Love Poem

here is something i just wrote. will refine later. tentative title: love movement


what would it mean
if we could become
part of a greater constellation?
our souls connected
part of a greater treasure
love bringing us together
and what if it didn't matter
who we are?
as stars we are members of the same universe
and part of each other already
let us recognize this
about ourselves
and leave nothing to chance
let us continue our journey
of re connection
manifest love as an artform
become our own kind of cosmic stuff
have no doubt
it is worth the struggle
our souls have been crying out for us to become
to begin undoing the damage
of separation practices
forgetting that we shine brightest when we're together
so when we struggle,
let us do so in love
and be strong in our resolve
for the restoration of our cosmic souls
part of our greater whole
is always worth the effort
and i yearn to begin
----------------------------------------

until next time...

Who knew music could be so divisive part two: Coffee Shop (Mis)Adventures

The following is as close a recounting of true events, and an excuse as to why I couldn't get my work done this afternoon and will now be forced into a possible all-nighter.

So I’m trying really, really, hard to do my reading for the week . However, there is this table of young (probably sorority) women studying and one has their laptop practically blasting music of her—and the groups—persuasion. After gnashing my teeth about it for forty-five minutes or so, I finally—after repeatedly going over the variety nicest possible ways to ask without coming off as upset—ask the young woman if she could either pop in her headphones or turn down or off her music altogether, mentioning that it was really distracting to my studies (and a gentleman behind the studytable in question quietly chimed his agreement) .  Her response: “If you say please”. So I did in an oozing manner, all the while smiling. She shut off her music, I said my thanks and went back to my table to continue reading. But my focus drifted off to the fact that once again I am too slow on the snappy comebacks.

 “If you say please?” Did you ask any of us if we wanted to listen to your music in the first place?

“If you say please?” Were we even a consideration before you started blasting your tunes for everyone to hear?

“If you say please?” Excuse me, but do not imply that I am the one without the manners here. You were the one that didn’t even ask anyone if you could play your music loud in the first place.

“If you say please?” Yeah, I realize how uncivil I was for not saying please, but do you realize how uncivil you were for not even asking?

But I’m the one in the wrong for not saying please? If equivalent exchange is the issue, then the correct reaction would have been to go right up to her laptop and shut her music off, since that is the same level of respect she accorded the others and myself.  Politics of politeness is interesting in a given context. I couldn’t help but feel like the typical minority, the person who has to go out of her way to be polite when it is my space that is being forcibly infringed upon. Reads a lot like much of the history of most colonized folks. Being regarded as a child who must oblige the unjust adult is just humiliating. Dignity continually torn to shreds at the thought of similar scenarios.

 Being the passive one doesn’t help, yet I knew that being confrontational with comebacks would have blown up the situation and all I wanted to do was study. Instead I look like a fool and am stuck wondering about that fact and this muffed up scenario for the rest of the day. Study time was officially ruined, and I had tons of shizz to do.

When pondering the ways in which I could ask this woman to shut off the tunes, I was also pondering the dissertation titles, “The Politics of playing Music in Public Spaces: Music as a form of post-colonization” and “Would you please turn that down/off?: Politics and Post-Colonization of Space”.  I was also fantasizing about being uncivil for reals. Forget my fantasy pal Louie Ville, the slugger and him chomping on some knee caps. Nah, I was ready to introduce AK-47, whom would initially be pointed at “Miss Please” before totally decimating her precious Mac, after I said “No” in response to her mandate “If you say please”.  How’s that for civility? The idea of bustin caps was in need of an upgrade anyway. Now I just need to make these little misadventures and violent-yet-comical fantasy responses into a comic.

 Only a passive-aggressive person would think of such a thing as a release. Of course there’s the matter of not being considered a danger to society, unlike the folks who get away with making all sorts of violent films and shows that desensitize us to erroneous acts of violence on a daily basis.

Note: Racial and gendered undertones of this response are implied. Most of you will know what I’m getting at.

Until next time…

Who knew music could be so divisive?: Yet another visit from an unwelcome friend

The following is my debrief about a rather troubling event that largely involves not being a member of a majority culture and making people uncomfortable because of it. Basically I'm fuming.

At the request of the groom (and not so much the bride), I brought my vinyl and turntables to share some tunes with everyone for the after wedding party. I was given permission to play my own stylings after giving disclaimer after disclaimer about my stylings (old and new funk, soul, reggae, latin breaks). My apprehension stemmed from knowing the couple enjoyed bluegrass, some electronic stuff, some popular stuff, and some old soul tunes.

Needless to say it did not go over well. It did in the begining but after a while, folks wanted to hear what they wanted to hear. People are more comfortable with what they're familiar with after all, not new things that are comparable to what they are used to. Nonetheless, while I got a few nods of appreciation, I got twice as many fake nods of appreciation followed by requests to either, put on more uptempo stuff, or play crappy 90s dance music (someone actually was on the verge of tears yelling at me to play this stuff).

I hadn't been drinking (since that's not my thing) but boy was I starting to fume. Most of it was from humiliation and knowing that my lack of acceptance was evident at that moment. Still, thanks to stubborn pride, I played on (hey, I didn't bring four bags of records for nothing!).  Since I tend to communicate through my selections for the most part, I started playing an awkward down tempo  love song with the main line of "here's my love" (I usually start my sets with proclamations of love as well) an expression of my humiliation.

After a while people interrupted my set by plugging in their ipods/iphones to play their own playlists. This just in, the tempo wasn't the issue because it was about the same as what I was playing. The style however was. You see, from my perspective, it was the stuff of hipsters who believe to know what real music is and should sound like. Down-tempo in its own special hipster-y way. In fact two ipods/phones happened to have one song in common on their playlist. Talk about awkward (cause hipsters seem to think they're rather unique). Some of the stuff I heard made me think of "Stuff White People Like" instantly, especially the one about hip-hop.

In any case I was and still am angry about this. Especially since the morning after (we stayed the night on a campsite hosted by the wedding party), none of those people would even make eye contact with me, not even the bride and groom! By the way, I got no help from them in regards to support. Only a relative stranger offered sincere words of encouragement of play what you feel when the going got rough (I should have played "Stepping Razor" just to shut up the hecklers). Needless to say, I could not wait to get out of there and I felt something pretty close to hatred for hipsters for a while.

Why be so upset about this? Because I wrongly stereotyped hipsters as being liberal and thus open-minded. The worst kind of liberals it turns out are those who think they are but really are far from it and will reject anyone and anything on a moment's notice. Did I mention there were hardly any people of color there? Of the friends that were close to the bride and groom, all were white.

Yes, yes, I know my judgments are a bit harsh. That often does not lead me to reject people however because I also know that these people are good and possibly awesome people, much like my friend through which I am associated with the bride and groom. And besides that I know what rejection feels like and do not care to perpetuate it.

Still some of my harshness comes from my sensitivity. And internalizing of yet another failure at fitting in with new, seemingly cool folks. I just wonder again, and again, what is it about me that makes me so easy to cast aside? Every time I assert myself, attempt to stand up for myself (as misguided as it may be to do so), I end up being in the wrong for it! WHY AM I WRONG FOR DOING THIS? I feel the constant burns of being othered in one way or another. And I couldn't feel more alienated because of this. The worst of it is that people were trying to be nice when telling me I was basically doing them a disservice by not playing what they wanted to hear (you're doing great but... how affirming of them).

Anyways my anger wasn't apparent  to  the others, which is probably why they felt okay with stepping to me as much as they did. I mean it was all I could do not to hope that a mistakenly spilled glass of water would somehow destroy the PA system  and the ipods that were connected to it. But then I remembered that that PA system belonged to my super awesome friend whose friendship I in no way want to loose and I reversed those negative thoughts and tried to clean up the mess. Once again I am the othered doormat and my soul burns from the shame of knowing that being me is not acceptable to just about everyone...even hipsters.

Until next time...

Feelings I'm Working through...

Being overwhelmed and overworked by what is ultimately the bs of academia makes it difficult to reassert my what my purpose is in being here. I want to do well by others through my work. Yet blow-ups with colleagues that have left festering wounds that make it impossible to make eye-contact, the departure of dear friends who keep me focused on my purpose, and not really knowing the right way to go on top of this make it difficult to know what steps to take. Now I'm taking on too much, making it hard to see clearly about any one thing. I want to be a friend, a good person people want to turn to, yet by asserting myself, have I burned bridges to friendship? I feel more alienated than ever when it comes to what I'm doing academically because I am unsure of the way to go, the way that allows me to go towards love of self and love of others through action. I don't want for anything to be too late when it comes to this but I can't help but wonder. It all feels like too much. And then I heard this song during a hot yoga session, a good articulation of the feelings I'm working through... a longing for all of this to work out...

Until next time...