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race

On Why Your Colorblindness Can Strike Me As Covertly Racist ( #EdChat Edition )

by Jose on February 2, 2010 · 4 comments

in life

Damage after Hurricane Katrina, School Bus

Let me make it plain: conversations in too many sectors have this strange relationship with race these days, and by strange, I mean covertly racist. This sentiment is best exemplified by Secretary of Education Arne Duncan’s latest quote about New Orleans (thanks, Fred Klonsky):

“I think the best thing that happened to the education system in New Orleans was Hurricane Katrina. That education system was a disaster, and it took Hurricane Katrina to wake up the community to say that ‘we have to do better.’”

Classy move there, Secretary. (Your apology’s a little late, which is right on time.) I have so many problems with this statement, I’d be here until tomorrow discussing its implications. However, let me just highlight a few:

1) As I mentioned in the same blog I borrowed this from, the cataclysmic events of the day and the thousands of lives lost and ruined by this disaster only seem to mean one thing to Arne: a rise in test scores. If we get rid of the lowest-performing students through collateral damage and natural disaster, who are we to disparage that as scores rise? The districts with higher performing students didn’t get affected nearly as much. Plus, if we can destroy the public sector of education and replace it with privately funded institutions who only accept certain types of children, then those students who don’t get to go to those schools, in effect, don’t count. They’re on the bottom end of the “outliers.”

Which brings me to …

2) If those voices are silenced, then how does some people’s “color-blindness” affect how this conversation proceeds? Well, his defenders will most likely say, “He doesn’t have a racist bone in his body,” “His boss is a Black president!” and “Look at the second part of that statement. Black people DO have to do better!” These statements and others like it already denote a racial tone because it suggests that color is to be ignored in a system that places values on race as is or that the retorts aren’t substantiated because there’s a Black person involved within a 5-mile radius. It also suggests that, when in conversation with a diverse group of people, since there “is no color,” then the dominant peoples’ voice (cultural values, speech patterns, stereotypes, etc.) should be used, and thus nullifying the conversation since everyone’s supposedly on the same plane, even when they’re not.

and …

3) It makes it easier to ignore participants whose experience is different from the dominant populace, and this doesn’t just apply to race, but sex, age, etc. Rather than addressing these issues, too many educators rather run away from these topics because of their limited experience with race or they don’t want to deal with that part of themselves. At the end of the day, it doesn’t just hurt participants of color, but Whites as well, since their opinions hinder true dialogue and embed further intellectual segregation, even when they think they mean well.

I bring all this up because I ran into a conversation online where the chatroom was mostly of one dominant culture, and a few others observed that they couldn’t get into the conversation because it’s mostly ed-tech crap. (Yes, I said crap.) When someone tried to bring up the need for more discussion about pedagogy and / or achievement gaps, these parts were ignored, and that’s the worst part.

Ignorance doesn’t just take the form of hatred (ignorance of fact), but also when one actually ignores the other (ignorance of being).

Unlike my blogger colleagues who discuss race, I won’t seek to validate my opinion by speaking of the myriad of friends I have and who understand this discussion, no matter what race. Rather, I extend this phrase: color-consciousness. It means that true diversity exists outside of the flavors that exist in your spice rack, or the flavor of liquids you used today.

And more to the point, it means people aren’t simply collateral.

Mr. Vilson, who never drank Cristal, but them f***as racist …

p.s. – Dr. Beverly Tatum covered this extensively in Why Are All The Black Kids Sitting Together In The Cafeteria? Pick it up if you haven’t.

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The Tourist (or Not That Black in America)

by Jose on July 27, 2009 · 12 comments

in life

Black in America

Black in America

Sure enough, I didn’t catch most of CNN’s Black in America 2 special. I’ll most likely catch that sometime in the future; reruns prevail over original programming even on a 24-hour news channel. I caught bits of it and found inspiration in the story of Steve Perry, a Black high school principal whose high expectations and stringent attention to detail made his school (and of course, his students) extremely successful. There were other times in the few clips I got to see that resonated with me as someone who’s grown up in an impoverished predominantly Puerto Rican and Black neighborhood, like the fatherless children, the vacated mom-and-pop shops, and more prevalent cases of grown children raising much younger children, even when they didn’t birth them.

However, I had a hard time looking at the stream of messages from Twitter and Facebook because at the end of the day, a big part of me feels like a tourist in the African-American experience rather than someone fully accepted into what others may see as “Black in America.” To clarify, I believe there is no real definition of Black per se, but there is a shared set of characteristics through culture, skin color, facial features, places of origin, and even speech patterns that help people more concretely identify themselves and others as Black, or any other race. Furthermore, I also see that race and ethnicity are not necessarily mutually exclusive, as there are Black people in Dominican Republic, Costa Rica, Ghana, Liberia, Columbia, and even in places like India and Russia. It doesn’t make them any more or less Black, but this variety of experiences makes my consciousness about what it means to be Black in this country even more complicated.

This may not be true for everyone or even the majority of Black people in this country, but in a way, because of the legacy of experiences in America, not just slavery and revolts but also wars fought and to a certain extent patronage and patriotism to this country, many groups of African-Americans hold a certain degree of exclusivity when it comes to Blackness (and even certain elements of Blackness) by which any lesser man may be intimidated.

“I never liked the Cosby Show.” I can’t tell you how many people’s eyes bulged out of their heads, jaws agape, cheeks ever-expanded when I said that. While most of my other friends from different cultures would just nod and keep the conversation moving, many of my Black friends made it a much bigger deal than I felt necessary. Yes, I’ve heard of The Cosby Show, and seen the million and one specials. I’m familiar with the plot and characters, how pretty Lisa Monet was, and the pudding sponsorships and TV shows Cosby had before and after the show. Yet none of that even so much as put a dent in my psyche; what could a Black doctor with a full, happy family whose problems weren’t that great in the grand scheme of things and whose problems could be solved in a matter of 22 minutes and every so often a celebrity appearance tell a young dude whose father figures were barely there or were abusive, and whose apartment only stretched the lower stage of his man’s house (if that)? What did I know of Richard Pryor, Stevie Wonder, Prince, The Color Purple, Purple Rain, Fame, collared greens and grits, Harlem, The Apollo, people feeling “the spirit” in the middle of a sermon (that doesn’t happen in Catholicism), Good Times, Sanford and Son, and Denzel Washington movies before Glory?

Maybe it’s even because of my station in life and my temperament, rebellious to the status quo. Even to this day, I still don’t know why people take too much heed to Cosby’s opinion as it pertains to Henry Louis Gates or Barack Obama, no more than I can explain the taste of grits (grits aren’t bad; they just don’t have a real taste until you throw some cheese on it). I can’t explain why in some African-American circles I’ve been in, they limit the slavery experience to the borders surrounding this country, like I can’t explain why too many Blacks (because even a few is too much) blame Latinos for job losses in the jobs some might consider beneath them like janitorial or culinary work when we should look at all the factors surrounding people’s employment.

And that’s where I turn back to Black in America, because TV has had such a strange effect on the ways others perceive all of these cultures. Upon further reflection, I have to admit that, if not for hip-hop, I may have never known ½ the things I do about Blackness. The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, at least, had a character who grew up in the hood and ended up raised by rich people; that gave me an “in” that the Cosby Show never did. From the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, I learned of the latest dances and styles (as well as not so popular ones) in the Black community, and eventually, I came to feel like it was my 2nd home.

Truly, people who wish to document the Black experience in America may never get it right, and the least controversial way of documenting that experience is simply to provide an emotional attachment to these pieces and let the thought processes and questions come from the viewers themselves. Even if they decided to include some of the prominent experiences we know are out there, experiences like mine would still be left out.

I have a feeling if we replace Black with Latino in this essay and postdate it to the new Latino in America, it’d still be apropos.

Jose, who doesn’t care if he alienates others, but be civil …

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Live With Legends – Julian Bond and Cornel West

by Jose on July 15, 2009 · 10 comments

in life

Cornel West, Professor

Cornel West, Professor

I had the pleasure of sitting in the front left aisle in the Barnes & Noble Bookstore in Union Square for a conversation between Julian Bond, chairman of the NAACP, and Dr. Cornel West, activist, thinker, professor, and leader. As I looked at this rather diverse crowd, young professionals, burgeoning and veteran journalists, liberals and scholars alike, I had no choice but to think about the troubled but auspicious history of underrepresented people in this country. While we still have a long way to go with regards to civil rights, I’m still in awe that people had clamored in the hundreds to hear a Black intellectual (or two) speak his or her mind.

Cornel West doesn’t settle for anything less than being himself, and his track record proves that he doesn’t just stand at the pinnacle of Black intellectuality, but also the forefront of world intellectuals. Revered by those of us who consider ourselves thinkers, he surely makes a fortune just from speaking his mind alone, and never does it to the point where we feel he’s embarrassing us, no matter whether we disagree with his opinions (it seems we rarely do). Julian Bond, on the other side, doesn’t advertise himself as much, but helped found the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee, among a myriad of accomplishments. Soft-spoken but firm, Bond has a more authoritative tone when he speaks, but there’s still an undeniable passion there. They both represent two sides of the Black intellectual spectrum: the infamous and energetic versus the measured and methodical.

With that said, here are some finer points I’d like to highlight about the speech. (I skipped some of the less interesting parts. As hard as that is to imagine, I’m skipping some stuff too, as I might use this later for my own writing this week.)

- When asked about where how their prior experiences have shaped them, Julian Bond started by recalling that his father was a college educator and his mother was a school teacher, so he already had a firm ground in education. Conversations of race were prevalent and part of the dinner table, so he and his siblings were very race-conscious. Whenever they got the chance, they were encouraged to not only have a job, but also find time for social engagement, and by that, I presume he meant activism on some level.

Cornel West said something to the effect of being his mother’s child and his dad’s kid, how grateful he was for them, and if he even tried to measure how much love they had for him, he “couldn’t make it to the crack house if he wanted to.” With that in mind, he talked about some of the people who he currently associates with and those who came before. He doesn’t believe in a self-made man because every person, especially those of underrepresented populations, can’t be self-made men. It’s about those that came before that, and before that.

Julian Bond, Chairman of the NAACP

Julian Bond, Chairman of the NAACP

- When asked about the past, present, and future sustainability about the NAACP, Julian Bond strongly advocated for its future, even plugging NAACP.org in the process, and found those who’ve said that the NAACP is not in touch with what happens in today’s world are themselves out of touch. For one, they’re the only civil rights organization that holds 7 seats for members for and voted by members under the age of 25. Also, as many activists say, he said, “Just because you don’t see us doing anything doesn’t mean we’re not doing anything.”

Cornel West was also quick to point out that, indeed, the NAACP was an organization that started as a Black response to American terrorism. Instead of becoming an al-Qaeda-type of organization, NAACP chose democracy and inclusion of all perspectives towards one goal. Even in the midst of American slavery, when America chose to “niggerfy” Black people, people like Frederick Douglass wanted freedom not just for Blacks, but for everyone (instead of a system where they enslave Whites.) I believe he said right after the NAACP didn’t say, in response to America’s trying to niggerfy us, they didn’t say, “We’re going to cracker-fy you!” He’s got a million of those.

- On the subject of President Obama, Julian Bond said, “You know, people always say to me, ‘We already have a Black president. Aren’t you done?” That alone got the crowd riled up. Bond felt that not only is the work not done, we have to think about what’s next. “We’re not the National Association for the Advancement of 1 Black Person, we’re for all.” Poignant. As he said before, “NAACP chose democracy.” He felt proud for Barack and he’s done a lot of things right, but he questioned his decision-making a few times over the course of his few months in office. Would he choose to support the poor and helpless or would he choose Clinton-administration neoliberals who give all their monies to the rich? Right. (I also found this interesting with Tavis Smiley in the audience.) Just because he’s Black doesn’t mean he’s right, even though he’s done a lot of right things. Blackness is not rightness. Blackness is beautiful, but it doesn’t always mean it’s right.

Then, Julian Bond responded with a quip by current NAACP CEO Ben Jealous by saying, “If Barack wants to be Abraham Lincoln, then we’re going to be Frederick Douglass.” And of course, the work of NAACP is not done because, while we have a brother that can fly Air Force 1, his daughters can’t even swim in a pool in Philadelphia he said.

- On their respective futures, Julian Bond said, “I’m going to say this the way Jay Leno said in his farewell speech. When I started, my hair was black and my president was White. Now my hair’s white, and my president is Black. I hold the NAACP responsible for both.” Cornel West chimed in, about the future of the NAACP, “It’s about what do we do now?”, a theme across the whole conversation.

A fantastic afternoon. Yes, I got to see him, shake his hand, autograph my book, and get a few numbers (just kidding about the last one). I also got a chance to shake Julian Bond’s hand too. I think I’ll go be an intelligent Black man my damn self …

Jose, who’s good with what he’s done, but is about what he’s going to do now???

p.s. – These are the notes as I’ve taken them. Should you disagree or think I wrote something in error, feel free to leave me a comment, too.

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Letters: Why I Don’t Just Color In One Crayon

by Jose on July 10, 2009 · 9 comments

in life

Audre Lorde

Audre Lorde

Dear Random Commenters and Viewers of My Blog,

In my last post, I contended, from personal experience and other sources, that Black and Latino males were definitely needed as participants in schools across the nation, especially in the role of teacher, head figure of most people’s experience with school and the man or woman in the front lines of this proverbial war. While it may be true that the teaching field needs more teachers, a point I alluded to somewhere in my last scribe, I find the particular dearth of males of color within the school systems with a high percentage of people of color a bit troubling. Many of you corroborated this theorem, from Henry Thiele who provided this wonderful article along the same lines to Sharon Elin who provided this great comment about how the lack of balance and experiences in the urban school setting in terms of sex, gender, and race often leads to an instability amongst the students. In the writing, I hoped to achieve a semblance of objectivity and pragmatism in my line of thinking.

Naturally, some of those who read were quick to say “Why you gotta make it racial for?”

Even without saying it directly, the way some of you reacted shows some troubling trends and why this issue is an unspoken passion for the tons of people who retweeted, posted, and e-mailed my post all over the web. And in no way am I angry, mad, pissed, or even disappointed. I’ve become matured in this dialogue to take offense to this sort of thing. Plus, some of this comes from people who I actually respect for their work. Thus, I write this as a piece for thought. Here’s a list of burning and non-rhetorical questions to consider:

1) How much does my own skin color affect my decision to write this post? I sort of mean that question tongue-in-cheek: there’s a direct correlation between my personal expertise in the topic and the reason I wrote it. But I’m puzzled by a caveat in this matter: I was mentioned as an African-American writer when the original blog was linked. While well-intentioned, I feel that those who aren’t comfortable with race issues use very PC terms to not offend me but end up making a gross generalization anyways. If the person said Black, I wouldn’t be offended. Not that I’m offended by being called African-American either, but if he had read the whole post, he’d see in the first line nearing the end of the post, I clearly give an identifier to my background. This matter is a whole ‘nother post in and of itself.

2) Why do some of us try to generalize an issue when there’s a discussion about a specific group of people? For instance, if we were discussing the disparate rates of pay between men and women in the same position, where women may get paid anywhere from 10%- 25% less on average for the same positions men hold in the United States, it would be implicitly chauvinist or even sexist of me to counter-argue  that everyone’s wages are either staying on level or decreasing as the US as a whole has become mired in debt and other monetary ailments, because it suggests a fatalism about the disparity, as if there was MORE equality when the economy was in better shape. In the same way, I think after bringing up the need for more Black and Latino males in this country, bringing up that we need more teachers in general sounds at least avoidant, as if tackling the issue at hand would be too much.

3) In turn, how can anyone of any color expect children to be interested in the teaching profession when they’re dissuaded from becoming teachers by their primary teachers? In a way, I understand: the school system has a way of making too many teachers scapegoats for the very deceitful policies that ostracizes too many of our talented and bright youth. No one wants to work in a place where all of the blame and none of the aut0nomy goes to the teacher. Conversely, I can’t understand how the solution to this problem is to boycott the profession. Unlike any other business of employ one boycotts, vacating education positions has and continues to have devastating effects on the lives and images of many underrepresented youth. Those in more affluent neighborhoods and better school systems see the value in education because a) they see people just like them and people who support them actually showing them how to become successful in very meaningful ways and b) they have the appropriate funds and structures in place to facilitate success within their edifice. I’d be dumb to say the same about some of the school systems in which we work.

But not once did I think to myself as a teacher, “My job is useless. Why even do this?” Never once did I back down when my mom, who probably thinks along the same lines some of you think, said, “Why even do this?” Even when people put me through hell, fire, and brimstone to see if I could stand the heat of an nontenured NYC Teaching Fellow, I never once told myself, “I think I’ll just quit tomorrow.” Maybe a couple of times, I felt like blaming myself for not being able to push all 90 students into the stratosphere where I think they belong. I just couldn’t see myself going up to someone with my aptitude and attitude about children of color and telling them, “Teaching? Just don’t.” Rather, I mentor as many as I humanly can, answer as many letters and e-mails as possible, comment on as many teacher blogs as possible, and maybe even do an interview or two, just to make sure people like me continue to pursue the classroom, even if it’s for a 5-6 year stint.

I’d never ask any of you, my readers, fellow teachers, and those interested in education, to color me in any crayon besides the one designated brown. As a Black Latino, I have my own set of experiences I share with no regret or remorse. I also just don’t see myself settling for anything more than true progress. Many of you continue to inspire me with your actual concern about the plight of urban students as I mentioned before. I encourage anyone who’s truly committed to helping children succeed to get into education to do so. Hopefully this letter clarifies the backbone from which I speak. As we expect our students to raise their hands and respond to our questions and speak from their own expertise and experiences with the material we present, we teachers have to do the same with what life deals us.

And even having said that, something still itches me about this issue …

Jose, who had an Audre Lorde moment a few hours ago …

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On The Reason Why You May Only Get One Black Male Teacher Ever In Your Life (If At All)

by Jose on July 7, 2009 · 25 comments

in life

KRS-One, The Teacher

KRS-One, The Teacher

Here’s a real and researched statistic for you. Before college, I only had 1 Black male teacher. I also believe I had 1-2 male Latino (sorry for redundancy, it’s necessary) teachers in my lifetime before college as well. His name was Mr. Wingate and he taught me Computer Applications. In 12th grade. Nothing profound, but at my predominantly Catholic-Irish-Italian high school, he certainly caught hell for his bowties and manner of speaking (Spoke too properly, frowned upon by those who considers themselves the arbiters of proper speak, I guess). If I do the math correctly, that means out of the possible 40-60 teachers I’ve had in my lifetime, only 2-3 of them were men of Black / Latino descent. For someone who was born and raised in NYC, that’s staggering. That’s a 3% chance for someone like me to go without seeing someone representing us in the field of education.

Maybe some of you are wondering why that’s so important. Many teachers of all races, backgrounds, sexes, and ages have come in the classroom and proven effective facilitators of learning for urban youth, and to a certain extent, that’s true. And if the children is learning (I know what I wrote), then I admit there’s much to be gained there. I love that so many people are concerned about the plight of urban youth that they’re this open to talking about it and making a difference in a field that really needs teachers regardless of background. Plus, I get that there needs to be a diversity of experiences for everyone, as they have to survive in the same world that everyone else does. A small part of me also thinks who better to teach urban youth the tools needed to survive in a predominantly White country than … White people.

But I’d be lying if I told you I wasn’t disturbed by the lack of representation of Black / Latino males as teachers. For some, it’s simply that, while they may not be teachers, they’re still in the education field as principals, school aides and staff, third-party vendors, education lawyers, and professors in institutions of higher education. Those that do leave on that cause should still be counted within the ranks (for the most part) because, just as there’s a need for educators in that classroom, there’s also a need for people to make changes happen in school structures. While too many males use the “advancement” in position as a means of staying in education but not dealing with what happens in the classroom anymore, there are also those who’ve inspired us by staying in the classroom.

There go a few.

Then there are those who view teaching as a second-class profession. That speaks volumes about the society that we live in, where too many teachers are spoken of favorably, but when asked if they’d ever be teachers, they respond, “I don’t have the patience for this,” and “You guys don’t get paid enough.” In this capitalist society, money means stature, whether we value the person who holds the position or not. It’s not just coming from this generation either. My mom, whom I love dearly, on occasion wonder aloud why, with all the stress and duress I endure as a teacher, I would put up with this mess when I could make 150% more as a computer programmer.

There go a few more.

Then there are those of us who left the profession because it’s really easy to get jaded about the school system AND the human experience. For how can we continue to put up this farce that students in our schools have equity to those living in more affluent neighborhoods? I don’t know any fellow Black / Latino male (or female) teacher who thinks that every student in their school is getting properly serviced by this school system. We have there a divergent road where one side says, “Man this system is hopeless” and the other that says, “We’ll continue to fight.” While people say that our needs are too great, we only need to peak in other schools and see just how nurturing and inspiring some of these places are. When we see that, even if they’ve had us as a teacher, they can fall through these really big gaps in the path towards true education, and they fall in the stream of the stereotype, the prison, the drop-out, the cast-away.

Thus, when our students see more Black / Latino sports figures populating a multi-million dollar court or field and yet only see one Black / Latino teacher in their whole grade, or 2-3 in their whole school, then they’re probably less inspired to take teaching seriously. It’s why for a good generation or two, rappers kept talking about teaching, because they didn’t feel educated in the classroom. That’s why when we see those men in wild robes on the corner speaking, they’re usually followed by a crowd of men who also believe in that message, even when it may seem far too radical for our tastes.

And it’s also why, as a Black Latino, I see the value of being a teacher. While I can’t always pinpoint what makes me any different from other teachers of different backgrounds, here’s some things I’ve learned:

  • The Black / Latino males respond more readily to me than they do to most of their other teachers.
  • The girls in my class are more willing to share their experiences with me and look to me to show them how a male should treat a woman
  • The people in my class may act like they hate me temporarily after I’ve scolded them about something, but they know I have their best interest at heart
  • They also ask me about what it was like when I was growing up, because they know my experiences mirror theirs.
  • Some of them have considered becoming teachers because of me.

It’s not that gravitate to my color, either, but there’s a part of them that sees an authority figure who looks like them, understands what they’re going through, challenges them, and models for them how to act. Even those who graduated from my school have a hard time using the n-word around me because they know how I feel about it. Soon, because I said it, they’ll also see the value of not looking at themselves in the mirror as something inferior, and that they too can pass it along to people who need it the most. My 3 uncles from my father’s side are all teachers, coincidentally, and I hadn’t known that until I really saw teaching as a possibility.

People with only a 3% chance of ever seeing a teacher like me. And if the teacher isn’t even that good, well, another one bites the dust …

Jose, who wants to keep believing …

p.s. – Yes, that’s another KRS-One reference. I’ma do it again.

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The Sounds of Quisqueya Call Me Right Back

by Jose on May 19, 2009 · 17 comments

in life

Jose In The Dark

Jose In The Dark

Today, Raquel Cepeda linked me to a post about Dominican-Haitian relations that she wrote on her blog, and for those of you who know me, you know I had to jump on that quickly. Most of you know my story already: Dominican mom, Haitian father, grew up conflicted about my identity and how people sought to mold it for me through their often contradictory actions, and eventually, I found my way to an odd but pleasant understanding of how my identity will work for me. It’s a gross summarization / oversimplification of the events that led to the man you see before you.

And even still, I have so many unresolved issues with my “mix” that I almost feel like I’m going to have to write those answers into the history books myself. For instance, why do Dominicans celebrate their independence from Haiti but not from Spanish / French rule? Wouldn’t it make more sense for them to celebrate it from those powerful empires and not a neighboring country that helped them become independent in the first place? Of course, the answers to these questions partly lie in one of the most reviled men of Dominican-American history, Rafael Trujillo, who ruled absolutely, almost like a now and forever king, except much more evil.

The ideas he helped instill (and ideas that many Dominicans were readily willing to accept) made way for people who’ve lived on the same island for centuries, have similar skin tones, foods, music, and DNA mixes to look at each other as completely different. It’s the reason why, when people look at my face, hear my talk, see my fluidity in culture, they’re puzzled and fight that feeling by stigmatizing my being. As a young man trying to understand everything around me, memorable quotes such as “Your lips are so big; you gotta be Black” and “How can you dance? You’re not Dominican.” or even “Man, this is the way we eat food here; you weren’t raised Haitian, so how can you be?”

I couldn’t reply in Creole. I couldn’t tell them about zouk and kompa, or that Quisqueya was the term that we both used to talk about our country. I couldn’t jump into a conversation because I hadn’t developed the ability to interpret conversation based on facial expressions. I couldn’t tell how hard it was to make peace with my stepfather’s ignorance about Haitians and how I felt so unwanted by my mother’s family because I came from a Haitian. I could barely speak Spanish either, except from what I taught myself to read and write. I couldn’t tell them to stop laughing at me for not knowing the word for tooth, or that I’d been to Dominican Republic more times than them.

Because I wasn’t Dominican or Haitian, even though I was clearly both.

But something funny happened along the way. Amidst the prejudice and pride, I used that disposition to assert myself as a whole everything. I am a whole Dominican and a whole Haitian, despite anything telling my observers the contrary. I will dance, I will eat, I will hear, I will speak. Not that I need to always prove people wrong, but icing is a really tasty part of the biscocho. I researched more than most of you care to hear, and got familiar with topics important to both countries.

And the crux of this discovery came from the sounds of Quisqueya itself. Wilfredo Vargas, a Dominican merengue artist best known for “El Perrito (the dog)” dance, had a string of hits in the 70s such as “El Jardinero,” “Cafe Con Leche,” and “La Medicina,” all very country-sounding merengues and all excellently written. In 2002-2004, I’d have these songs on rotation alongside my other musical obsessions of the day because my Dominican family played this during gatherings and parties. In 2008, while hanging with my Haitian family in Miami, I heard a song blair out of my cousin’s speakers. Oh snap. It was the same exact riff from “La Medicina.” All the melodies were there, and even the background singers sang the way “La Medicina” had them.

As Junot Diaz wrote in his meritorious book The Brief Wondrous of Oscar Wao, in one way or another, the island of Quisqueya always has a way of calling back its diaspora. In one way or another.

Jose, who solemny swears by his truths …

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How’s That Postracial Thing Working Out For You?

by Jose on February 18, 2009 · 12 comments

in life

Eric Holder

Eric Holder

O, humans. After Barack Obama was elected, some of you seriously thought that the color barrier had officially collapsed. Some of you were grinning extra hard since you thought all the problems of the world were laid off your shoulders, as if we were only one John Hancock away from true world peace. Evidently, someone didn’t send the memo to Eric Holder, the first African-American US Attorney General:

“Though this nation has proudly thought of itself as an ethnic melting pot in things racial, we have always been, and we, I believe, continue to be, in too many ways, essentially a nation of cowards,” Holder said at the Justice Department in Washington, D.C. “Though race-related issues continue to occupy a significant portion of our political discussion, and though there remain many unresolved racial issues in this nation, we, average Americans, simply do not talk enough with each other about things racial …This is truly sad. Given all that we as a nation went through during the civil rights struggle, it is hard for me to accept that the result of those efforts was to create an America that is more prosperous, more positively race-conscious, and yet is voluntarily socially segregated.”

Tough talk coming from a man born and raised in Bronx, NY. But that’s for the majority of Black people, right? I mean, white people consider a neighborhood less desireable if Black people live in it, and most people, Blacks and Whites included, don’t truly know the reason why Black History Month was created, right? There’s still higher poverty rates amongst Blacks and Latinos than Whites even though we’re “all” going through an economic crisis, but that’s OK, because there’s a Black man in the White House. He’s smart, athletic, polite, conversational, and articulate, so he’ll be attacked on his policies, not on his ethnicity, looks, or background right?

NY Post Editorial Cartoon (2/18/09)

NY Post Editorial Cartoon (2/18/09)

BANG!

Apparently, even cool, calm, and collected Obama, the same Obama who won the millions (and millions) of people’s votes (and minds) fairly through a really tight election, who galvanized many Americans throughout the United States to become more active in their communities, who within a month of being inaugurated has made tremendous strides towards bringing normalcy to this country, can still be easily compared (not so much contrasted) to an angry “uncivilized” primate who wouldn’t stop ripping people’s faces off until two presumably White cops put him in his place.

Some have contended that there’s a double standard associated with this comparison because, while we’re outraged at the aforementioned cartoon, we were fine with the Bush monkey cartoons and the Condoleeza Rice as House Nanny references. While I see what they’re getting at, I also think that highlighting the President of the United States getting shot and killed and simultaneously showing a Black man getting shot “like the monkey he is” raises the stakes to degrees that underrepresented people are all too accustomed to in this country. I’m not excusing the Bush monkey stuff or the Condoleeza stuff because, frankly, I disagree way more with their policies than their person. But this comparison is shallow at best. I just don’t think comparing George W. Bush’s facial expressions to a monkey’s carries the same implications to, say, Barack Obama as a shot-down angry monkey. You can disagree with the policies, but this takes it to a whole ‘nother level.

And again, I’m not the racial polemicist usually. I’m not saying that race relations haven’t come a long way from, say, 100 years ago. Yet, we humans are foolish to believe that people like Obama and Holder symbolize such a revolutionary shift in our national thinking that we no longer, for instance, need affirmative action or have check boxes for race / ethnicity. Until this dynamic changes, then the artist isn’t just representing an isolated case. He is not an isolated case; he is a representative of a significant portion of Americans’ thinking. Until we ALL have those conversations (and not just talking points we regurgitate from whoever we decide to idolize as our racial savior), we won’t get anywhere.

So to those of you who love singing Kumbayah around imaginary campfires, how’s that postracial thing working out for you? The grass over there must be really green.

Jose, who still doesn’t see everyone’s voices fully integrated into American history right?

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A-Rod Can Haz Dominican Culture Now?

by Jose on December 8, 2008 · 7 comments

in life

Alex Rodriguez's Pledge of Allegiance

Alex Rodriguez

Back in July of 2005, the World Baseball Classic committees were just getting their international rosters, and most people stuck to their countries of origin, as stipulated by the rules. With 16 teams in the competition, many of us baseball fans almost salivated to the chin being able to watch these all-stars playing on the same teams. Derek Jeter, Chipper Jones, and Ken Griffey Jr. all on the same squad? Jose Reyes, David Ortiz, Albert Pujols in one line-up?

Whoa.

And Alex Rodriguez, arguably the best all-around player in baseball, has the choice of playing for either of these teams.

And he chose the Dominican Republic. No harm, no foul.

Yet, what ensued afterwards was a backlash of sorts, including meetings I’m sure very few of us were privy to, and he went from being 100% sure he’d play for the Dominican Republic to not playing for any team whatsoever to eventually playing for the US team. It’s bad enough his reputation as an asshole who wants to please everyone just wouldn’t go away. Now, he’s back to dealing with identity politics that are, in many ways, out of his control. As some people may know, both of his parents are Dominican and he has dual citizenship in both Dominican Republic and the United States, where he’s lived most of his life. He went from living in Washington Heights in NYC to Florida, where his only father figures were his baseball coaches growing up, but his mom still instilled in him some cultural pride, though not ostensibly.

Anyone who considers themselves multi-ethnic or has done a little studying on multi-ethnic people understand that, despite our allegiance to our ancestors’ countries, we also contribute to the American culture and when we go back to those countries of origin, we are usually considered Americans. Even with an accent as heavy as Alex’s, he’s probably looked at as American, at least subconsciously. But that’s the struggle for Alex: forces from the people who pay him his hundreds of millions, including sponsors and players’ unions, and others like his family who he seems to treasure and the 20-some-odd years he wasn’t an American icon, but a Dominican playing America’s favorite pastime.

Yet, on Saturday, December 6th, 2008, and at the behest of David Ortiz, Alex Rodriguez did what he should have done back in 2005. He signed on to play for the Dominican Republic.

Now, the response is completely different. Many Dominicans are lauding the move, calling it “authentic” and “true to what he really is.” Yet, Americans, who were indifferent back in 2005 when he first made the decision to play for the Dominican Republic, now have a growing resentment about this move, calling him “Benedict A-Rod” among other things. And to all of them, I say …

GET OVER YOURSELVES!!!

I can’t believe the gall of anyone who so much as whispers Alexander Emmanuel Rodriguez’ name and can say he’s not Dominican with a straight face. So what if he was born here? Does that completely strip him of any culture that’s instilled in him? Does that make him any less of a man because he is Dominican? Why do people criticize him for making this move? Is it because he was an American-born Dominican rather than a Dominican boy some scout made a lot of lavish promises to and kept in a perpetual farm system? Is it his blond streaks, extra-marital affairs, and rumors with Madonna and maybe some other models here and there? Is it because he’s living the American Dream that so many of you advertise so flauntingly to the rest of the world? Is it because you just need any excuse to berate and denigrate A-Rod, whose name someone shrunk just so they could Americanize it?

And believe me, even as a New York Yankees fan, I get it: he comes off as an arrogant, selfish, rich, undeserving, flip-flopping, callous asshole. I personally don’t see it that way, but I understand where it comes from. But none of this, and I mean NONE of this, gives anyone any right to tell that man whether he gets to be Dominican or celebrate his Dominican culture, and anyone who’s a real fan of the man shouldn’t judge him. Even if you don’t like him as a player, respect his right to his own cultures.

Both of them.

And when he comes to play in the New Yankee Stadium in March of 2009, he’ll be pledging to the American flag right along with everyone else in there.

Jose, who will be waving any one of 2 flags during the WBC, since Haiti doesn’t have a baseball team like that …

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The House Negro

by Jose on September 17, 2008 · 9 comments

in life

The House Negro

I’m sitting there with 2 of my favorite educators, exchanging laughs, gossip, and semi-Mexican food. I got a cold Corona in my hand, and the ladies have mojitos in their hands. We’re all sitting there, having discussions about politics and existentialism, when all of a sudden, a debate breaks out.

What is a house negro?

Excellent question in light of the recent debates about this really popular Presidential candidate whose been called everything from “galvanizing” and “inspirational” to “elitist” and “out-of-touch,” and one of the problems with this range of answers comes from the history of Black men and women who achieve a high level of success in a world that hasn’t always been accomodating to them. Upon reaching a certain level, the Black person is either percieved as extremely successful and a “credit to their race” or, and often by his or her own people, a house negro.

For purposes of this conversation, we only focused on the United States, so the time periods get fuzzy as we get more international. Now, the debate rages on about the role and perception of the house negroes, but during the period we describe as slavery time in this country (and in many others across the world), the house negro was usually a Black servant who never had to work in the fields with other Blacks, given better clothing, and sometimes given a chance to learn a little more than the field negro. Often, this created tensions between the field and house negros, as (some) field negros percieved house negroes as haughty and pretentious while (some) house negroes looked down on field work and found field negroes disengaging.

Cornel West and Barack Obama

Cornel West and Barack Obama

Fast-forward to today, and because hindsight is 20/20, historians often disagree about the role of the house negro. Some look at this servant as just trying to survive. If the house negro didn’t do what she or he did to stay in the house, they’d have a higher risk for mortality, and they often served as the conduits for change amongst White plantation owners to developing better relationships across the races. Others take the view that house negroes are nothing but Uncle Toms, negroes who would rather grovel at the knees for a White man’s mercy and gratitude, even at the cost of his own people. Both of these portrayals serve as the basis for how Blacks (and to a large extent, Latinos) are viewed by their peers.

For example, some might call me a house negro because I went to private Catholic school for middle and high school, as well as a highly-recognized university (Syracuse, if you must ask), and even got my masters’, something not afforded to most people of my background. They may also refer to me as such because I can code-switch and have used “the White man’s tools” to excel in life, everything from learning how to put on a suit to speaking English well. On the other hand, some might call me a field negro because I came from the hood and still live in the hood. I came back to work in another hood as a public school educator, and while I didn’t necessarily partake in the negative aspects of the Lower East Side circa 1980-1999, I still have my roots firmly planted in the traditions and cultures of my neighborhood.

Am I a house negro? Even those who consider themselves field negroes find themselves participating in mostly White events and have traditionally White ideas and standards of living. And we further blur the lines if we don’t differentiate between a “house negro” and an “Uncle Tom.” People like Ward Connerly and Clarence Thomas for example, match well with most people’s ideas of this Uncle Tom figure, yet I suppose if someone asked them, they’d totally disavow themselves from those titles. People like Barack Obama and Oprah Winfrey on the other hand often play jump rope between those definitions for some.

Personally, the debate alone made me rethink those ideas of house negro vs. field negro. Any thoughts? Yes, I’m inviting ALL of you to speak on it. It’s at least a forum for you to learn and share based on your experience.

jose, who isn’t filtering …

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Shot Rings Out In The Memphis Sky

by Jose on April 6, 2008 · 1 comment

in life

Martin Luther King Jr.

The speeches of Martin Luther King Jr. constantly remind me why we need to find peace, even to this day. Barack Obama’s latest speech on race invoked those sort of images from past civil rights leaders (and probably planned in many ways), while even Condoleeza Rice, a woman I’ve been very critical of, spoke up about issues of race in this country and how the legacy of this bias continues to divide us. People like Lou Dobbs and Jason Whitlock who say that race is no longer a conversation or is a conversation that no longer matters these days usually misspeak and confound even themselves, proving just how entrenched these biases are. We even get some people who call educated and well-versed Blacks and Latinos “articulate,” most of whom mean well, but a few of them who say that word with a bit of surprise, as if we’re part of some group of savages.

And MLK wasn’t the first to address these issues, nor the first to address racial inequalities, or the first to protest and preach non-violence ever. But he was the truest embodiment of the double consciousness that Blacks in this country, the understanding that we are all Americans, but within the United States, Blacks are second-class citizens bonded together by a common experience. Unlike his brethren in the struggle, he didn’t want to divide America, or make a separate Black nation, undeniably speaking out on issues of national concern for all. But his primary objective was to address the racial inequalities in this country. He didn’t just want us to hold hands in a circle and sing “Kumbaya”; he wanted institutional restitution and true integration.

Fast-forward to today, and while we have a day off for the man, we still go into war needlessly. We speak up about issues, but fear our government to the point where many of us won’t protest on a local, state, or national level against these injustices. We still find ourselves enamored with King, but some of us hold our bags and purses tightly to ourselves when a Black person walks by, and find every excuse in the book to not hire someone whose background is different from ours because we don’t want to sound racist. King helped the government realize that we need racial integration in this country in different institutions, but we still see the segregation in our schools, in our homes, and in many of the statistics dealing with poverty, employment, college matriculation, infant mortality, hospital quality, immigration, and the prison industrial complex.

While I do think that many underrepresented people have made huge strides in fields where we had no one to represent us, the general populace tends to fall into the trap of visual synecdoche, where one person or a small group of people represent the whole of the population from whence they came. For example, people see Jay-Z, Barack Obama, or Oprah Winfrey and think “See? Racial equality is here. No more need to discuss it.” Yet, that’s really a subtle way of saying “OK, no more. I can’t take any more of them on the screen.”

It’s disgraceful really. For all my discussions of racial inequality, I also fall somewhere in the spectrum of the racial integration arguments. I don’t believe in assimilation, but I also see the potential for much greater unity amongst everyone here. Yet, the institution set in place often hinders said progress. The subtleness of suggesting for instance that affirmative action has no place in America anymore is ludicrous since it was that set of policies that forcibly encouraged America to hire people regardless of our perceived divisions.

America, we have a long way to go. Let’s find the solutions to these inequalities and, then, let’s be the solution. Let’s make dreams into realities. 40 years ago, MLK died, calling America to task on its many indiscretions. 40 years from now, what will that generation think of how we responded?

jose, who reminisces over you, my G_d …

p.s. – Tomorrow, I’ll have a little inspirational post and answer some of your questions.

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