Name that slur! Mexican edition.

So this past weekend was Cinco de Mayo, an American holiday that celebrates margaritas,  burritos and drunken tomfoolery. What, you thought it was about a Mexican military victory against the French? Interestingly, the holiday is much more widely celebrated in the U.S. than in Mexico, thanks mainly to beer commercials and clever marketing. A dear friend of mine of Hispanic descent brought up several good points on the subject and got me thinking about dealing with cultural sensitivity, or insensitivity, as the case may be.  

When I first moved to San Francisco, I worked with a woman who made a big impression on me, though not necessarily in a positive way. She had a personal mission to point out every instance of what she perceived as racism in her day-to-day interactions with the intention of making people more aware and sensitive to their words and actions. She took particular delight in calling me out (presumably because I was from the South) every time I mentioned race, ethnicity or culture. Her approach was something like this: “Why did you say that just now? Was the fact that the man was black important to the story, or are you just fostering latent racism?”

Needless to say, she and I butt heads often. I would immediately go into defense mode since no one - least of all me - wants to be called racist, but also because I thought her reasoning was flawed. What’s wrong with noticing that people are different from you? Racism is certainly still a problem in this country, I agreed, but being blind to race and culture is hardly a solution.

To this day, when I think of this lady’s seemingly personal vendetta against my “racist” Southern ways, my blood boils. But five years later, I have to admit that she had a point.

Fast forward to Cinco de Mayo 2013. My aforementioned friend made the point that dressing up “like a Mexican” was incredibly offensive, brought on I suspect by this photo posted on a Facebook event page:

This started something of a Facebook debate concerning why lumping a number of cultural and racial stereotypes into a costume is problematic, with which I couldn’t agree more. It’s one thing to dress as a historical figure or cultural icon such as Che Guevara or Emiliano Zapata, but quite another to dress up “as a Mexican.”

But she and I got to talking about the best way to raise awareness to such stereotypes and yes, latent racist attitudes that many Americans foster. When one is personally offended by another's words or actions, it’s difficult to approach the situation calmly to point out the offense.

However, as I learned with my former coworker many years ago, it’s also very difficult to be on the other side and have your actions or words criticized or even worse, to be called racist. And while I like to think racism in this country is dying with each generation, cruel stereotypes and ignorance are alive and well. The trouble is recognizing it and correcting the behavior without launching into attack or defense mode.

On one side, you have people who throw up their arms and yell “Offense! Racism!” at every joke or comment to the point of exhaustion. On the other side, you have those who either have no clue when it comes to interacting with other cultures, or feel PC-ed to death and resistant to any notion of cultural sensitivity. Personally, I’ve been on both sides of the fence.

Political correctness is much more lax in the South, so most people - even those who in no way would consider themselves racist - don’t realize when they’re saying something terribly insensitive. Here in San Francisco, people can be not only be overly-sensitive, but also incredibly impatient when it comes to others lack of insight and sensitivity.

As always, it’s that middle ground we’re most in need of but also proves to be most elusive. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could engage in a legitimate conversation about race and stereotypes without one or both parties becoming offended or self-righteous?

For my part, I’m trying to understand issues from viewpoints other than my own, even those that to me seem flawed, and avoid initial knee-jerk opinions. But also, I’ve got to learn not to let my feathers get ruffled so easily when someone makes an insensitive or ignorant comment regarding my hot-button issues.

Perhaps this exercise in understanding and patience is a lesson we could all stand to study a bit further.

My complicated relationship with hair

“Where in god’s sake is this going?” You’re probably asking. Well let me assure you, I have plenty of things to say about hair of the human-grown variety. I could probably write a dissertation on this topic in fact, but for brevity’s sake, I’m going to limit this discussion to three topics and a couple video clips.

Firstly, if you know me personally then you probably know I’m a little grossed out by hair. Specifically, hair that is detached from the body; free-floating, mystery hairs rolling like little tumbleweeds across the bathroom floor and lurking like devious swamp creatures in drains.

Some people can’t handle feet, or mice, or bugs. For me, it’s hair. I’d like to say this is not a phobia since it’s not an irrational fear, however I’m having trouble explaining the exact nature of my revulsion.

It probably began when my dad would make me pull slimy, wet tendrils of months-old, half-decomposed hair out of the bathtub drain whenever it would stop up. This induced immediate dry heaving and “heebie jeebies.”

Regardless, I go to great lengths to avoid touching off-the-body hair. I think Seinfeld explains it well:

Watch Seinfeld stand up clip on YouTube

Funky, old shower hair aside, there’s the matter of hair that’s still attached and growing on our head. Head hair is very weird. We are the only mammal that continually grows hair and while it does go through growth cycles and other animals are constantly replacing fur, our hair can grow to any length we desire virtually forever. There’s no “stop growing now” mechanism like the hair on the rest of our body (unless, of course, you’re bald. But again, animals don’t go bald). So naturally, we’ve developed some pretty odd rituals and associations with our hair.

For one thing, a woman’s hair is very sexual. In our modern day culture, this association has become more internalized and we’re not always aware of the implications of, say, long, flowing hair. However, there are entire cultures that cover their hair once they become adults. And long ago, only maidens (unwed, virginal women) wore their hair exposed. It also came to represent a sort of promiscuity to reveal long hair.

Nowadays, women of any age and marital status wear their hair long and exposed without a second thought. However, living in the sexually hyped-up society that we do, I’d make the argument that the long tresses so trendy today are yet another way of sexualizing women to an absurd degree. Yes, I know this may seem like a bit of a leap, but think about it next time you watch TV or read a magazine. What kind of women are portrayed with long hair versus hair that’s short or pulled back in some way? Why are they portrayed that way?

“But you have long hair!” You’re probably screaming. Yes, and I wear it very proudly. When thinking of my hair, I often feel like Samson; as if the source of my power emanates from strands growing out the top of my head. I go through phases of long and short hair and the determining factors tend to be how annoyed I am with maintaining long hair versus frequent haircuts as well as what image I’m trying to portray.

Do I want to be feminine or tough? Edgy or beautiful? Sexual or conservative? At the moment, my long hair makes me feel pretty and rather sexy, and I believe that’s the signal it sends as well; appropriate given my desire to attract a mate. Not-so-coincidentally, most men I’ve spoken with prefer long hair, probably for the reasons I’ve just outlined.

So as you can see, my relationship with hair is rather complex. Psychoanalysis, anyone? I’ll leave you with this:

Watch clip from the musical Hair on YouTube

Memories in the attic

When I was back home last Christmas, I climbed up into my parents’ attic to look through boxes of my old stuff. I found some cute things, some sad things, and inexplicably several pairs of terribly outdated shoes. But I also found a pseudo journal I would write in whenever I felt confused, sad or just the need to wallow in self-pity. As it happens, I did this quite often in my angsty teenaged years.

The last entry into this journal, however, struck a chord. The essence of the entry was my trepidation in leaving my home for San Francisco. At the time I scratched out my fears and questions into the little book, I hadn’t officially decided to make the move, though the idea had been on my mind for years.

It’s interesting how we respond to opportunity and change. Sometimes we embrace it, other times (most times?) we shy away out of fear. This has been a recurring theme in my life; to change or to stay the course?

Looking back, I can remember well the worries that kept me awake at night the months before I packed all my belongings into my little car and took off. After all, I had spent 16 years of my life in Nashville. I had friends, family, job opportunities, connections and familiarity. It was home. San Francisco represented the things I wanted out of life, but being the pragmatic person I am, I also realized there was no guarantee of success or happiness there. It was just an idea, a fantasy, an escape.

I suppose exploring new opportunities is scary not just because failure always lurks behind the corner, but because there’s also the possibility of ruining the fantasy, of realizing your goals are unattainable. To me, this is heart-breakingly terrifying. Enough to keep me from trying, even, for fear of losing my most precious dreams. How do you tell the little girl giving fake interviews to the mirror that her dreams may fail? Well if you’re me, you just keep living in that fantasy without ever trying to make them reality.

Yes, I realize this sounds terribly wishy-washy, but I know I’m not alone in these fears. Familiarity is comforting and most people prefer to be comfortable. Change is the great unknown and that’s scary. But ultimately, the what-ifs can keep you from pursuing goals, experiences and, well, life.

These were questions my 22-year-old self wrestled with and - very bravely - I decided to take the plunge and move to an unfamiliar city where I had no friends, no housing, and no career opportunities. I’m still proud of myself for taking that step, especially since I don’t feel I have embraced too many other big changes since then.

Sure, I’ve taken little steps here and there, but I keep shying away from opportunities, even really promising ones. I think I need to take a cue from my younger self and just close my eyes, take a deep breath, and let come what may.

If you’re interested in reading what 2008 me had to say about my big move, feel free to explore the older posts. But be kind - 2013 me owes her a lot.

Welcome to my blog V2.0

Hello, and welcome to version 2.0 of my blog. As you may surmise, this is my second attempt at keeping up with a regular blog, however the objective is quite different this time around. Let me give you an unnecessary amount of detail as briefly as possible...

As you probably know, I write. I do this for fun, for profit, and ultimately to become a world-renowned, noteworthy and awe-inspiring author. Clearly, keeping a blog is the best way to achieve these goals.

Ok, so maybe that’s a bit of a stretch. However, I believe it is important to create an online footprint and persona to highlight my awe-inspiring talents. So that’s one thing.

Next, I find I have these little conversations in my head most days and I often think, “Gee, I wish someone could hear these downright profound thoughts, comment and leave feedback to affirm my awe-inspiring talent and possibly stroke my ego.” It’s like that saying: if a tree falls in the woods, and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? (oh, she’s lofty indeed!)

But seriously, I would like to refine my personal voice. When tackling matters of the heart or intellect, I tend to write in a journalistic, objective style. Given my background and training, this makes sense. But given my above-stated objective, less so. So my intent is to tell stories and issue opinions in an captivating, unique, and at times humorous way. And practice is really the best way to hone this skill, methinks. Not to mention developing a regular habit of writing is kind of essential and something heretofore I’ve been very poor at maintaining.

With that said, I’d like to entertain you, dear reader, but I’d also love your feedback. If you think my opinions faulty and thoughts silly, well, that’s fine (you’re not alone), but I’d really love to hear what you think of my writing.

Yeah, I think this feels pretty good. I’ve got my writing shoes on, I’m doing some mental stretches, I’m ready to take off. Let’s see where this goes!