idealists are the cruelest monsters of them all.

Today I learned a new phrase Hipster Racism. It exists. I've seen it. Experienced it. Just never knew it had a proper term. I mention this to say race relations are an on-going struggle. Racism is different for every person of color. What offends one Person of Color may not even ping for some other Person of Color, because we don't all come from the same background, but that doesn't make it any less racist to the offended party. We are not all the same. Just because you're not offended doesn't make someone else's hurt any less valid. And fandom is a large, strange, sometimes polarizing and lonely place. Sometimes attention is brought when offense is given; sometimes people are just like, "No, not today, because I deal with this every other goddamn day and I am not your racism police," which -- well, that's just how shit is. People get tired. But what's just as hard as saying something is how the conversation is had, how people interact and how people react. For every person who flips out and screams, "I'm not racist!" it's nice to know that there are people who are able to say, "You know what? I messed up. I'm sorry; I apologize -- I didn't realize how this came off. Please forgive me; I'll try to do better in the future." It's hard to admit when you fuck up, but it takes a very strong person to admit it, and it takes another strong person to say, "I accept your apology. I hope you see why I feel the way I do."

So, people, keep talking. Keep trying. Keep being adults about it, because this shit is hard and the only way we're going to get through it is to make an effort together.

I want to start this post by saying a) I do not participate in Supernatural fandom b) I am a black person c) I have not read the story that started this week's Race Fail Brouhaha -- and let's be honest, it is only TWF (This Week's Fail, because that's just how this works). But I did read the informative post made by bossymarmalade. And trust me. That was plenty.

I have also read subsequent posts both on my reading list and in the (very) wide fandom universe. Some have made me so blind with rage I've had to go outside. And some, like this one from tevere and the one she linked to by facetofcathy have made me go, "Thank you, ladies, you are better people than I, because mostly I think 'The more things change, the more nothing changes what. so. ever.'"

And I say all this to say:

I am a Person of Color. I am not your Racism Police.

Nor is any other Person of Color your Racism Police.

We were not put here to tell you when you are being a racist asshole. We are not here to be the back drop for your great romance. We are not a fucking background. We are PEOPLE. We are born, we live, we love, we die. We bleed just the same as any. body. else.

Just because you may not encounter a PoC in your daily life does not mean we are tiny people living in your TV that only start dancing around for your entertainment.

People of Color are not here for your entertainment.

We are not here to be your plot points or to be your One Minority Friend That Proves That You Are Totally. Not. A. Racist.

We are not birds. We are not exotic.

Our cultures. Not exotic.

So every time you ask to touch our hair because it looks different, or rub our skin as though the color might come off; and every time you ask what extraction we are, where our parents are from (implying that we obviously are "not from around here") or say we're pretty since we're mixed;

Every time you think, "These people are so *other* from me they must need a good white person to save them," -- and you know who you are (especially you, Hollywood) -- you are being a racist dick.

Point of fact, however, you don't have to be white to be racist. Anybody can be a racist. In fact, every time there's one of these Race Fail Tempests you inevitably get people asking, "Well, how am I supposed to know when I'm being racist?"

If you have to ask if you are being a racist, do I have to finish the rest of this sentence?

We are not small-eyed, thick-accented, Spanglish speaking or dark-skinned just to give you something to talk about. To give you something to compare yourself to and find yourself superior. We are not here for your artistic merit.

I don't care if your feelings are hurt today, I will still be a Person of Color tomorrow.

And yet, this still isn't going to change anything. It never changes anything. And why does it never change anything? Because people are making this into a theoretical discussion when it's not. These are people. Real fucking people. And these things really happened. And they caused a lot of fucking tragedy. The earthquakes? They happened. Colonialism? It happened. Blood diamonds. They happen. The wiping out of entire cultures by a bunch of greedy explorers. War in the name of oil or minerals (heads up, Afghanistan), the new land or spices or genocide. That shit happened. It keeps happening. It was not made up by six white guys in a air-conditioned office on the Warner Brothers back lot in Burbank drinking Diet Coke.

These things are happening now. And they will keep on happening. And just because they haven't happened to you in particular does not make them any less true, any less valid, or there to be exploited just for your amusement.


So I'm going to save the rest of my breath to cool my porridge and let Dave Chappelle say it best, because truly, "you ever have something happen that was so racist, that you didn't even get mad, you were just like, DAMN, that was racist."

You know. I'm not feeling fannish at the moment unless it answers to the name of Raylan Givens. It's my blood pressure you see. I like it where it is. And yet, my poor blood pressure is under attack from all sides.

First, there was the Congressman who claimed he served in Vietnam... except he never left the US. Ladies and gentleman, you "misspoke" when you say you left in April when you meant August. Saying, "I went to Vietnam and am a proud veteran," when I was in the reserves and never left my home state is not a misstatement. It is a LIE. Lie, motherfucker!

He made me upset. You don't do shit like that. Just like the blogger from Newsweek who feels that gay actors can not play straight roles. It's just not "believable." What planet are you FROM, dude? Have you ever seen a movie or TV show? Do you have any idea how many gay people are on your TV and big screen? How many men and woman refuse to come out in the industry because of stupid opinions like yours? You are fired, asshole.

The guy from Harvard was just annoying. Did you not hear about this one?

This young man lied his way into Harvard -- for all four years. And only got caught when he tried to apply for a Rhodes Scholarship. He falsified all his records and got into Harvard. Nobody ever fucking checked. He just boggles my mind. BOGGLES. This is Harvard. If he'd been a woman or a minority, there's no way he would've made it this far. And this is annoying. Okay, it's something besides annoying, but we'll just go with that.

So, we've got Blumenthal and Harvard Liar. And then there's Rand Paul (Yes, he's related to Ron Paul). Whoooo. If you voted for Rand Paul in the fine state of Kentucky please leave this LJ at once, because anybody who thinks civil rights shouldn't be mandatory. NOT OKAY.

My god, just typing this is getting me upset. And then today we hit The Tipping Point. Yes, in all capitals.

Let me tell you about Jesse Bernard Johnston III. Who's that you say? That's the young man who lied his way into the Army. Well, people lie to the Army all the time. Trufax. But how many have only been to the USMC's OCS (Officer Candidate School) in college, dropped out and then managed to convince the Army he was a NCO in their reserves. For, like, a long time. This was not a one night thing. This started back in February. Homeboy just swanned up and the Army said, sure, you can be an NCO with no training, at the Fort Worth Air Force Base. And I quote

The matter, currently under investigation by the Army, means a soldier received a security clearance and was in position to lead troops in combat even though he hadn't gone through basic training or spent any time in the service.

In the meantime, come talk to me about happy things. DW is tomorrow. Eleven is love and hotassery in bowties. Southland in 7 months. I would really like some music to work out to if anybody's got mixes they put up or blogs they are loving. sincerely_jane made an animated RDJ mood theme. And I -- I will be over there, talking to sparky77 and maurheti about Brad Colbert/Raylan Givens porn. (I need Raylan icons).

Dear Generation Kill people:

I don't know if the name Tom Ricks [1] rings any bells, but it should, because he's the WSJ [2] war correspondent that pretty much convinced Nate (yes, that Nate) to join the Marines [3]. Anyway, Tom writes this blog called The Best Defense [4], which I've been reading for a while, because I like listening to educated people talk about the shit they're educated about and have experience with, which is not the same as listening to some ignorant blowhard tell you about his "theories". [5]

Today, Tom had a post about Obama rescinding 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell' and how he definitely thinks it's going to happen (GO TEAM BARACK!), but what really caught my attention was the last line of Tom's blog, which is this: The funny thing is, I am pretty sure I have met many openly gay people in the military.

And I read that, and you know, it makes you wonder. Because if I trust Tom Ricks about anything it's military policy, and if he's saying it's not all as under the covers as they're making it out to be... how would that play out, for, oh, say Nate*. Or Brad.

*FYI: Ricks is also a member of Harvard's Senior Advisory Council on the Project on U.S. Civil-Military Relations. How much do we want to bet that Nate's on there in some capacity?

[1] Tom Ricks
[2]Wall Street Journal
[3]Nate says so in One Bullet Away
[4] I've also created a feed tomricks, because I like making my life easier.
[5] But that's a story for another day.

You know how you have shit building up and then you hit that tipping point and you're like, fine, I see I'm going to have to talk about this or I will be up all night yelling and scaring the neighbors. ( A black woman's rants on racism in True Blood, Chocolate News and the US Presidential Campaign. Or do not piss in my pocket and think I'm going to say 'thanks.' )

People suck.

Time and time again this sentiment is brought home to me, and yet I still keep on believing, and I tell you, it’s like beating my head against the wall or running smack into an Italian midlfielder.

( Sometimes you just want to believe the best of people, but they just keep disappointing the fuck out of you, or why Italy may‘ve won the World Cup but they totally lose with me... )

I think one of the hardest things for any writer (or artist) is trying to remember what you bring to the table at the end of the day, i.e. what makes your writing strong, what makes you different, what makes you better, or worse, or just what makes you a unique snowflake*. What is your motivation? I think it's easy to get bogged down in the fannish experience, to get frustrated and annoyed, or to lose sight of what you enjoy. I think somedays everybody wants to pack it in. If you can get past that though, if you can remember who you do this for, I think you'll be okay.

I don't think anyone can possibly be as hard on a writer (or artist) as a they are on themselves, and sometimes that can really fuck you up.** Sometimes you find yourself comparing stories***, and feedback, and the way your stories measure up in your brain, and you just want to shoot yourself in the foot. There are stories that I've written that nobody's liked, and there are stories that are loved that make me cringe. There are stories by other authors that have made me want to weep with how brilliant the written word can be. This used to drive me crazy -- now I just revel in someone else's gift. Everyone is someone else's fan.

The important thing is that you try not to compare quite so much, to someone else, or to yourself. It's imperative that you keep going, that you keep trying, that you believe in yourself when nobody else does, because you've got to be in the game to hit it out the park. Like cesperanza says,

"Me, I am all about the game--fandom's the game! I want to be in the game!--and like, I can live with posting a story that's "eh" or a flashfiction that's a bunt, because hey, wow, the next one will be better, and at least I'm still playing. And being in the game means that sometimes you suck--you go out, you swing, you strike out, but hey, you wave your bat at the couple of fans who are happy to see you anyway, and then you go in the bullpen and ice your shoulder and watch your teammates play, knowing you've got to go out there again in about half an hour.



*Don't listen to Tyler.

**You being the general you, or you know, me.

***I try not to compare, but let's be honest, that shit doesn't always tend to work so well.

I was coming in from doing some shopping when one of my neighbours stopped me to wish me a "Happy MLK Day". It took me several seconds to realise what he said. I was actually flustered, and surprised, and it took me a minute to gather my thoughts, but I gave him a huge smile and said, "The same to you." What's important is that I genuinely meant it. After all, Martin Luther King, Jr.'s birthday isn't like Christmas or Thanksgiving or St. Patrick's Day. It's not something most people pay attention to beyond a day off from work. I know this, because I do it too.

When I was small, on Martin Luther King Jr.'s birthday, they would play his speeches on television, and people would actually talk about the civil rights movements and all the strides that have been made since then.

They don't do that anymore.

People seem to think that equality has been achieved, and nothing else needs to be done, but you don't even have to scratch the surface to know that's not true. We still discriminate against each other all the time. We're condescending and rude. We call each other hurtful names. Black and white, male and female, gay or straight, we're still not equal. I don't even know if we will be in my lifetime. I can hope, because believe it or not, I always have hope -- but I'm realistic enough to know that it's not likely.

I've been around the block enough to know that strides have been made in civil rights and gender rights and the like, but they're strides, and the race is a very long one. Every day people set it back through racism and sexism and stereotyping and a million little cruelties that eat away at the progress that people have been working towards since before Brown vs. the Board of Education said segregation had to go.

What gives me hope though, is the fact that 50 years ago I wouldn't be typing this. I wouldn't have been out shopping either, because I wouldn't have had the job I have which enables me to buy things. I wouldn't have this flat, or the same mixture of friends. I wouldn't know half the people I know now. I wouldn't have had the same opportunities. Someone would've looked at me and said, "NO!", just because of where my ancestors are from, and I wouldn't have been able to do a damn thing about that. Now, because of men like Martin Luther King, Jr., I have a shot. And I thank him for that. And to every person who ever second-guessed someone because they looked different, fuck you. One day you'll see how it feels, and then maybe, you'll see how wrong it is. Maybe you'll make a change.

And maybe, if everyone makes a little change, we can move forward. I think Dr. King would like that.

theantimodel was postulating on giving authors criticism, constructive or otherwise, and why some authors just can't stand the heat in the kitchen. I started writing an answer, which then degenerated into much thoughtfulness that should not be happening so soon after holiday. ( Please do not step inside unless you are wearing flame-retardant clothing )


In more joyous news, Happy Birthday to the most fatabulous and lovely estrella30. It is a honour to be around your infectuous enthusiasm and I'm so pleased to know you. I wish you many, many happy returns of the day, sweetie.*

*I heard you have discovered the wonder that is Entourage. Let's hug it out, bitch!