Convention

Convention and experience tell me that at 27, I ought to be more refined and pragmatic in my everyday communication and understanding of the world, and more refined and politically correct in how I express myself. That pragmatism has drawn me to and taught me to appreciate, care for and love many people of color who are not particularly political or progressive. Certainly, most college-educated people of color my age tend to lean that way as they play their deck of cards in life so that they can provide a future for themselves, their children, and most importantly, their parents.  And often, I lean that way as well because I see the bigger picture. The cost is certainly high when I don't.
 It is less "selling out" than an understanding that in order to have people who are different than me be open to understanding my viewpoint, or to examine themselves and thus maybe be willing to shift their understanding of certain ideas, that they have to be comfortable with me first. So, in a hierarchical society, convention is vital even if it may not be fair.
 
But when Lucia MacBath and Ron Davis speak, I feel like I know them. I feel like they are members in my community, I feel like they worried about Jordan Davis, their young murdered-teenage son, the way my grandmother worried about my bi-racial father. They showcase the fear that parents of color face and they remind me that there are, perhaps, more important things in life then convention.

I am more Asian than Black, but even if you are white, any person should hurt for that child and his ancestors. Anyone shoud feel sorrow and anger when seeing that Eric Garner could not breathe and Michael Brown's body lay face-down and lifeless in the hot concrete for over 4 hours, and nobody cared enough to help.

I am so viscerally angry with the injury this country inflicts on its minority members at times. But at 27, I am better at channeling it into something productive. I am better at articulating how the slaughter of 9 innocent lives the day after my birthday was not isolated but rather brought on by the bias messages this country continues to promote. I am not aggressive with my viewpoint but I also hold it with conviction. I am better at reminding folks that the blood of Black and Native American people built this country and continues to soak its soil until this day: from the Mayflower, to slavery, to the Civil War, to Emmett Till, to the murders and martyrs of civil rights leaders, to Trayvon Martin.

And in this watershed moment in history, as a grown woman, no matter if people agree with me, no matter if people view systems of oppression the way that I do, I can see that saying "no more" is respected because me and so many other folks of color are standing up and being our genuine selves. It's a moment where myself and others are recognizing that while it may be important to be courteous, to be non-threatening, to have open-dialogue, it can't come at the expense of truth and progress. In the past 50 years, some of our faults might have been that we've been too nice, we've tip-toed around issues, no feelings have been hurt, and therefore, no introspection is really taking place. MLK in ALL that he did to bring people together and open minds was heroic, but Malcolm X's viewpoint, his unapologetic love for black people and desire for black freedom and sovereignty, though less measured, less gentle, more direct, is equally vital to the fabric of justice. There is a centuries' long dilemma between asking for what you deserve as equal citizens and taking it "by any means necessary."

Living in white spaces, I think people often think that I think and feel the same thoughts as white people, except I have more melanin in my skin. Or that I am sympathetic to white justifications. Or that I am agreeable when I see little things that aren't quite right because of tradition or an honest mistake or because someone is a good person. "Little things" proliferate racism.

This year, it's been liberating to not nod and to conversely lay nuggets of perspective on the table and say, "here's some information, what if you look at it this way?"

-What if middle-class folks stop using the words "ghetto"or "thug" because of the clear and negative connotations and thoughts it brings to mind about black and brown folks who built this country?

-What if a certain college or university made it more attractive for people of color to apply so that there are more teachers of color in our children's future?

-What if people who know white folks in Baltimore stop making the problem about themselves because their white friends will continue to be just fine while inner-city Baltimore will continue to be under-resourced, with a lack of grocery stores, pharmacies, quality schools, and JOBS after the cameras leave?

-What if the public understood that instead of "thug music", hip hop in its truest essence is a counter-culture stemming from blues and jazz, to give voice to those we silence and to speak out against injustices? The fact that the art form is not "polite" at times is precisely the point.  

-What if we worry as much about youth of color as we worry about gentrifiers who enter into neighborhoods they have no history in but conversely have their neighbors and family worry about how they would survive in these "bad neighborhoods" with these "bad people?"

-What if a certain branch of the Portland Public Library had even one biography or autobiography of an Asian American and his/her contributions to American history? Like that of Grace Lee Boggs? Or a book titled "The History of the African Continent" wasn't written by a white man?

What if, in 2015, there was less appropriating of minority/ underprivileged cultures and labeling it one's own for cultural and capital benefits? (i.e. yoga)

These are microaggressions that shape America.

This year, more so than before I've been able to articulate those questions as conversation starters. This year, more so than ever before, I've been straight forward in saying, I want to work with and for children of color. I want to work with and in communities of color. I want to be a social servant in this cause. And this year,  I've been shouting from the mountain-tops that I am so in love with people of color and so proud to be a woman of color.

I've always had a reluctance in pronouncing that truth in the past because I tend to have to defend myself as to "why" from people who say all people are people... i.e. people who think equality already exists. There is no doubt that convention is important. There is no doubt that people who aren't accustomed have a difficult time taking the whole dose of a different perspective. But there's also no doubt that as I age, I have gotten more leverage and I know how to manipulate my leverage, and take more risks, in a manner that is genuine to me and others.

It's important to have friends with different perspectives because no one the same and no one is always right. Convention, particularly for Asian Americans and immigrant families, is a survival technique. But, it's also important to still be able to say to your friends, "I don't agree with you. I think there are factors missing in your viewpoint that doesn't take into account your privilege." And whether or not people have a higher tendency to experience aggression from my opinion because of my race, well, that's the reality that happens frequently, and that is not a reflection of me.

Every day, I miss having a network of shared experiences in Maine, but I also recognize that it has forced me to stand up for myself this year. There was a reason for it and it is invaluable.

This New York Times piece says a lot. The Condition of Black Life is One Of Mourning
Also, Netflix's Nina Simone documentary is quite astonishing. It reminds us of the condition of Black Activism during the Civil Rights movement, and if one is at all critical, he or she can draw parallels to the condition of black lives in today's world.