Spanglish

"Are we dating? Are we fucking?

Are we best friends? Are we something/ in between that?

I wish we never fucked and I mean that. " -Childish Gambino

The flocks of pretty petite Asian girls walking around with at best, average looking, yet undoubtedly rich white hipster boys in Northwest D.C. is a sight to behold. If I had a comic thought bubble, it would say "REALLY!?!"

Maybe in 20 years, it'll be different, but in this moment questions remain about how and if a white person could understand the perspective of a person of color... or if people of color date white people because they inherently believe in the prevalent positive white stereotypes. Self-deprecation.
But can I really say that? I don't date Asian.

I'm focusing on cultivating and maintaining friendships... working to cherish those instead of intimate relationships for the first time in my adult life. As my Public Allies Program Manager would say, "I'm trying on a new coat... all the way on." So far so good, but I do distract myself by analyzing interracial relationships and how that the overwhelming wealth in NW DC is showcased through the status symbol of those interracial relations, can you imagine?

It's neighbors, Northeast D.C. or Wheaton, Maryland aren't afforded that privilege.

This woman on University Boulevard keeps walking up and down the strip between Amherst Ave and Georgia Ave. She was there at 1 p.m. when I walked to and from the post office. She remained there at 5 p.m. when I was walking to and from the Asian market.

There is this man with a stump for an arm, I believe he is a veteran, who walks up and down University Boulevard between traffic near Piney Branch Rd. every morning. I know because every Tuesday and Thursday I have to walk past him before I pass by the slew of blue collar Latino/ Chicano men loitering together outside 7-Eleven, sometimes minding their own business, more often being crude---- which urks me---

being as staunch of an advocate for men of color as they come.

My realization of my disappointment with these men of color;

the way they contently play into every stereotype, every caricature ("trifling, good-for-nothing type of brother" -Destiny's Child). Then I have to analyze and reconcile it in my own mind---"is their lack of appropriateness/acculturation/communication skills/English proficiency/class on them or on society, or on me for my condescension?"

And after all of that selfabsorbedness, this man walking up and down, with the same sign, same jacket remains in the back of my mind.

Last week he was joined by a more aggressive black man, who walked between cars, trying to create some territory for his own donations. The strategy wasn't effective--- I think it wore him out. Then, of course, there are those women who sleep on metro benches, a nuisance because I don't want to be faced with those faces.

Those are the faces of the softly gentrifying Wheaton and Sligo Park areas in Silver Spring who present themselves to me----

When all I want to do is be cool and discover music that speaks, fashion that speaks louder and be a little self absorbed by my impeccable taste/s (Currently, Childish Gambino gets the honors previously held by Common/Lana Del Rey/Damien Marley/and the King NaS--I am glad that clean-cut fitted clothing and lyrical fire has made a comeback for men of color-- it digs them out of the hole that white corporate network owners have been kicking them in--- but I'm also partially glad that their cockiness remains).

"I wear my heart on my sleeve. Always let love take the lead. I may be a little naive." (Rihanna)

If someone is going to wear fake nails, they might as well be sharp rather than oddly square with a white paint that does not look like an actual nail; it's an old money class vs. new money flash (or trash) thing. (The nail industry though, is a service one. On the one hand, it puts food on the table, pays bills, and puts children through college (like me). On the other, LEP Vietnamese and Cambodian men and women, people of color, are massaging and painting hands and feet-- all day long, every day. Each time I get a pedicure, it weirds me out. But I get them often.)

But it's interesting that even with my self-absorbedness, these stories and these people confront me from the blind spot. I'm looking for a thrill, for that magic, both in love and career--- I don't appreciate anything mundane until I see these grown-ass people, with no support system, mundanely begging and creating an eyesore with their overt display of the lies America tells people ----the huge pot-holes many fall into, and never climb out of, on their way to the American dream.

I've seen certain parts of D.C. that looks like Sao Paulo, Brazil. I know nothing about these people but I can visually illustrate them. I see them EV-E-RY DAY. It's ineffective because poverty saturates certain parts of the region. And giving dollar bills solves nothing, they'll be back begging the next day, so people don't give, and the cycle continues.

And of course, I feel SOME TYPE WAY about people of color being charity cases to assist the white man in his white man's burden. There needs to be some leadership and reform from the top.

There are hundreds (HUNDREDS: this is metropolitan D.C.) of non-profits/NGO's/charities everywhere. AND YET STILL, I can't enjoy my discovery of Childish Gambino.