Tits the Season

It's not the teat, it's the humid titty. Be kind to the 'neathage, ladies!

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ACOSTA FAMILY: Are these girls okay?

When I typed "Acosta..." into Google, the auto-fill came up with "...family." That means I'm not the only one who went searching online to verify the authenticity of this photo from the day Trump Labor Secretary Alex Acosta took his oath of office. Because look at it. Are these little girls okay? The tight body language, the dark circles, the blank eyes, the severe haircuts...and look at the mother! People, look, this is not a joke. These girls and their mother appear pale and stricken. What in the name of Caucasian fuckery is this family enduring in the household ruled by this man who doesn't care if billionaires are raping middle-schoolers on an island. Something is wrong. ∎

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I made the hell outta this tuna steak

Tonight I made tuna steak topped with nectarine salad over baby mixed greens. It's simple, summery, tasty and under 500 calories. Star Market had frozen tuna steak on sale, so I bought one without a plan for how I was gonna cook it. I looked up a few recipes online and came up with this dish. First I diced two ripe nectarines, a handful of fresh basil leaves, and half a red bell pepper in a bowl, drizzled olive oil, balsamic vinegar, added a few squirts of lime juice. I did that first so all the flavors had a chance to get cozy while I prepared and cooked the fish. I rubbed the tuna with a smidge of olive oil, and a little salt and pepper. A tablespoon of vegetable oil in a hot pan, and then I seared the whole piece of fish. There are YouTube videos that show how to cook a piece of tuna just right. On the plate I put down a bed of baby mixed greens, then the tuna (sliced to share with Joe) and topped it with the nectarine salad. I'll make this again for sure. ∎

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The Destructive Myth of "I Don't See Color"

I wandered into the TV room where my little brother was splayed out on the rug watching Miami Vice. I had just turned fourteen and my room was newly decorated with pulpy pages from Tiger Beat, and me and my friends spoke of "cute" guys, which fascinated my little brother and led to lots of questions like this one: which guy was cuter, Crockett or Tubbs? My answer was Tubbs. "Which one is Tubbs?" Mike asked. "Phillip Michael Thomas," I replied, to which Mike said, "Which one is he?" I don't remember the rest of the exchange, but that's not important. What's important is that I knew Michael was trying to see if I would say "the black guy." I didn't, because I wouldn't, because I thought we couldn't say "black guy." Why not? Out of respect! We were taught that describing people that way was wrong and racist. Well that sounds good, until it doesn't anymore.

Only white people say "I don't see color." White allies seem to think it demonstrates that they're simply lovely towards all people regardless of race. They very well may be! Wouldn't it be a wonderful world if every self-described colorblind white person is pure in their intent! But let's not fool ourselves, that's far from reality. Starbucks CEO Howard what's-his-face said it recently, didn't he? As his stores are currently super-disappointing our black friends? Jesus, man, read the room: you need to SEE that you sound like a big fat racist fool right now. These are the folks who were shown the picture of all differently-toned eggs with the "we're all the same on the inside" platitudes and figure they more-or-less "get it" about race relations.
Spoiler Alert: they don't.

You Are "Not Seeing Color" Wrong

"We are all the same" is dismissive of a tremendous planet teeming with humans. And that tidy, pat brand of race talk has never worked, and now we have Donald Trump.

I pause here to say I hate these terms. I really do. I feel stupid even saying "I'm white" when speaking about race relations, but these are the terms we're given. As a hard-boiled Sicilian, I've got a little African blood in me, and a little Arab, and an unsettling amount of Norwegian, but if you want to talk in terms of "skin color" then I'm kind of a splotchy pale pink. Like a piglet. In L'OREAL TRUE MATCH terms, I am Nude Beige W3 which is, in plain words, severely lacking in melanin. A guy at work once referred to me as so pale I'm "almost clear." Thanks, Grant. I know, buddy, it's just how it is, man. #BornThisWay


"Black" is not an insult!

I mean, does this need to be said. I didn't realize until adulthood how lucky I was to be raised in the city, by really young parents. My mom was amazing and made sure she didn't raise fools. She loves R&B and Motown, went  dancing, danced with us, took us to see concerts (Stevie Wonder. the Commodores!), watched Soul Train Sunday mornings. We had fun. I wouldn't know until hindsight but my world was delightful for black culture regularly. Thank God my parents got that right. 

Okay, so we know our parents didn't want to raise race-ignorant people like THEIR parents had been (we are Sicilian and good lord, do I have stories) and so they worried that the world would take us wrong if we were to call a black guy "a black guy." That's where "I don't see color" was born.

White allies teach their kids respect. But however well-meant, it made us feel ashamed every single time we noticed blackness, as though "black" was some sort of taboo subject. This has ill effects and stifled any sort of natural exploring of racial differences in any meaningful way. Socially. In a school with a mix of kids from all different families, being ordered to "not see color" felt like we weren't supposed to acknowledge race at all, ever. Treat everyone equally, yes okay, but we can't talk with each other in relation to each other? Can't discuss our ideas, our hair, our shoes, our music, our mom's cooking, our family life...? No? But how come? That's why when I was fourteen I thought the "right" way to live graciously was to ignore blackness as an inherent quality, like in my example of Phillip Michael Thomas where I contorted my language every which way in an effort to avoid saying "the black guy." I didn't want to set a bad example for my little brother, who was looking to me to find out how to describe Tubbs as opposed to Crockett. But it bothered me, to the point where I'm still thinking about that day all these years later. Why must I rob Phillip Michael Thomas of his blackness? I should have been able to say "The black guy, Michael. That right there is a beautiful black man."

If forbidden to acknowledge race and all the things that make us all different, we can't properly share experiences, we can't express anything. They wanted us to avoid a racial divide, but making the subject taboo only served to deepen it. Once in grade school, Mrs. Jones said something during music class about how all the black kids in our class could sing, and she said that singing beautifully was commonly a talent that black people have...I remember to this day the rush of embarrassment...we're not supposed to notice blackness, Mrs. Jones! That's racist...isn't it...? That being said, all the black kids in our class COULD sing beautifully soooo...? you see, our elders had us all twisted up in our world view over race relations. Even if you were raised with the mindset that every person is worthy of respect, love, adoration, rights, here's the thing. Claiming to not "see color" feels like yet another way of erasing blackness.

Every time I start to wonder why as a country we're still trying to figure out how to talk about race relations, I stop wondering when I remember we never learned how in the first place. The best our elders could do back then was "don't see color" which was a way of saying "you are all the same." Well we're NOT the same, and there's been a lot of life since 1984, and now I'm here to say we should be seeing color. We should be seeing and loving blackness. We should be seeing, loving and respecting blackness. We should all of us be seeing, loving, respecting and celebrating blackness. I think it's important, primarily because too many white people who "see color" and react NEGATIVELY (like trigger-happy cops for example?) are out here being straight-up assholes, and I don't see how keeping silent is helping. Speak up. Black is beautiful, talented, smart. Black is amazing, y'all. DO see color. See that it's awesome.

My hope is that Generation X is the last generation to try the whole "I don't see color" thing thinking they're helping to advance and improve race relations. "I don't see color" may be well-intentioned, but it is harmful, disingenuous and insulting. 

Some tips, white people:

If you really want to help, quit saying you don't see color. Maybe just be a normal freakin' person about race relations—use your head, use your damn privilege for that matter. Educate yourself. Listen more. If you didn't grow up in a mixed-race life, maybe it's all new to you, and it's okay if you don't know how to fix your narrow world view. You could ask how to start, though, did you ever try? You may not have had to think about the vast complexities in race relations in your life at all. Guess what. There's not a black person alive who hasn't had to think about it every single damn day. Learn that, for starters.

• You're gonna have to re-learn some American history. Read black writers and recommend books to your friends! Those in my age group (Gen X) were woefully kept from black writers in school. Crack those books they never told you about! 

• Tune in to black podcasts and TV shows. I've been with Desus and Meru since YouTube and love their Showtime show. Speaking of YouTube stars, I can recommend Roland Martin if you want to learn with some straight talk. There's a lot of black media if you seek it out, and by the way, if you turn on the mainstream news for analysis and you see all white faces, find another source. Everyone in America should know the names Kimberly Atkins, Zerlina Maxwell, Karine Jean-Pierre, Yamiche Alcindor, Eddie Glaude, Malcolm Nance, Maya Wiley...of course the Rev. Reverend Al Sharpton saves my sanity everywhere he shows up on TV and other media (when does Rev sleep!?).

• Speaking of media, you know you can watch anything you want on BET and other black media, right? I'm amazed at white people who unilaterally ignore certain movies and stuff because they don't feel like it's "for" them. Dude, you're missing out.

• When a black person is speaking (or tweeting) their truths and something about "white people" comes up in the narrative, don't you dare start in with "Not all white people..." If ANYONE understands the feeling of being lumped in with a whole entire group wrongly in any way, it's a black person, so don't even try with "not all white people" right now. Just listen and learn something for once.

• When talk turns towards black community issues, such as the question of reparations for the descendants of slaves, and you think you know what you're talking about, you don't. ("But I--") No. ("But my--") No. You can't possibly, it doesn't matter if you come from Irish, Italian or any other group that arrived in America and were also persecuted...it's not the same at all. Sit down.

• Don't ever look for any pats on the back. It's not easy to explain how gross it is when white people claim some sort of glory because they have that "black friend" and rarely does this sort of self-congratulatory posturing ever add to the narrative. Don't do it. OMG DON'T USE BLACK PEOPLE AS PROPS.

• Never excuse any hint of "us" versus "them" coming from your white friends or family. ANYONE. Ever. People are shocked to find there are certain family ties that I cut long ago because of toxic racism. Older folks who were raised with the adage "blood is thicker than water" have tried to shame me using the ideological cudgel that family is family, no matter what. That's bullshit. It's actually, “The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.” The "covenant" here is: no racists. 
• Stop reading THIS, I'm a old ass white lady. It doesn't matter what I think about it. Listen to black people with your ears open and your mouth shut. The end.∎

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Yes, I UnFriended You "Over Politics"

No, I Do Not Feel Bad About UnFriending

Okay, I've been sitting on this one for years, partially due to the PTSD, troubling lack of focus and struggle with writing in general, and partially due to uncertainty on whether or not I'm even right. But no...I'm right. I was wrong to question myself about this, but first thing first: what do we mean by "over politics" anyway?

In the parlance of our times your "politics" comprise and embody your beliefs and principles as they pertain to governance, both abstract and in particular. In the abstract, your support for "small government" makes you "conservative" by definition and on this hill you stand strong. You may hold beliefs that government has no business messing in your personal life, citing "it's a free country" and so forth. In particular, maybe you believe you shouldn't be forced against your will to sign up for any health insurance, or vaccinate your children, or if you want to keep a cow on your land and drink her unpasteurized milk every day, the government has no say in the matter. Perhaps you object to the idea that government should foot the bill for shoring up the lives of poor, sick or disabled citizens by providing any sort of nutrition, medicine or housing because of the astronomical cost. Maybe you lay awake at night worried about the national debt because, sure, let's go with that. Weird. But you're endowed by rights to support whatever body politic aligns accordingly.

Your politics reflect who you are as a voting member of the national populace and as a human being, whether or not you self-identify as "conservative" or "liberal" or any other recognized political party. Put aside these hasty labels. Take "party" out of it entirely! It doesn't matter what label you apply to your politics, but it does matter what your politics make you say and do, how you make me feel, how you act towards neighbors, towards strangers, what harm you're inflicting with your "politics." It's not me who decides if you're Friend or UnFriend. You're the one doing that, so if we're UnFriends now, that'll be because you said and did things that made it crystal clear: you're not My People.

Not My People

Here's who I simply don't care to know. Greedy people. Mean people. Nasty people. Manipulative people. Selfish people. Hurtful people. Small-minded people. Cheaters. Liars. Thieves. Bullies. Pretenders. Gaslighters. People who are always right no matter what. People who conflate their private, personal beliefs with laws of the land and then cry persecution when the other billion people around them don't participate in their twisted little game of Simon Says. Intolerant people. People who aggressively take part in "Othering" and then want extra points for "a black friend" or a gay co-worker. Racists. People who enable racists. Did I say Liars? Misogynists. Dicks.

The nice white folks who freaked out when their twenty-something son fell in love with a woman from Ethiopia. "Is she BLACK?" and "Don't you dare bring a black girl to dinner" were some of the things they said. In later years, those white people would deny they'd ever said those things. This is gas-lighting at its most brazen, until the day came they had to own up. Even then, no reversal nor  apology. To wit, "...yeah but then we met her and we liked her!" Congratulations, you're racist. To be so aggressively against a person without having met her, based solely on the only information you had about her is the literal definition of what "racism" means. You get zero points for "but then we met her and we liked her." Zero.

The loud white man who married a brown-skinned woman who bore him a brown-skinned child. He votes for Trump, he defends the hateful immigration bans and rounding up and detaining of brown-skinned people who may or may not be "legal," then proceeds to finger-wag his liberal friends, taunting and calling them idiots and "libtards" who want "open borders." Congratulations, you're not only racist, you're also super-confusing. No points.

The suburban mom who thinks "voting for a racist doesn't make a person a racist" and feels good about it. Zero points.

The girls from high school who looked down their noses at classmates who didn't happen to be born into land-owning, wealth-hoarding families and are still the stuck-up, entitled people today that they were when we were teenagers, posing with Trump signs in Trump tee-shirts and posting about "them" in negative terms. You're still "othering' people as adults? Well, I'm "them." Your privilege is still ugly. Gross. You get NEGATIVE POINTS.

My People

Here's who I call Friend. Nice people. Good people. Kind people. People who keep trying to become nicer and better and kinder. People who read. People who listen. People who carry love in their hearts. Compassionate people. Curious people. People who learn. People who appreciate other people. Struggling people, successful people, sad people, happy people. People who help, people who ask for help, people who care. People who get mad, people who get sad. People who make mistakes, people who apologize. Devoted people, humble people, proud people, confused people, thinking people. Honest people.

Someone That I Used To Know

It's possible that you've always held these troubling opinions and I'm only just finding out because of Facebook. It's possible that we weren't even Friends in the first place, in which case, don't sweat it. It's also possible I miss you, but it's more like I miss the idea I used to have about who you were before, in which case, when you tell our old funny stories, and you can say we're UnFriends because we've moved on. Think of it like a divorce due to Unreconcilable Differences. Tell your new Friends I'm someone that you used to know. It's also possible that you're a huge disappointment right now, so I guess let's just be civil when we see each other. But that depends, honestly, on how much of an asshole you are; you could be the literal worst. In which case, in the parlance of our times, bye Felicia. ∎

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Library Bear

When in doubt,
go to
the Library.

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