Am I racist or just white?

I think the first time I ever recognized race on any level was when I was about seven. I was in ballet/tap with an Indian Girl. She looked and spoke differently-and her mom didn't dress like my mom.

There was no value judgement involved, if anything there was curiosity.

That was pretty much it until junior high. Well, not entirely. There was this girl who would make fun of me by calling me "nigger lips" because I have a full pucker-but she was such trash, not much of what she said registered.

In Junior High, I was introduced to racial tension. My school 40% white, 40% Latino and a smattering of various Asian populations and a couple of black kids. And it was the first time I felt that my race affected my ability to move in certain social situations.

Cholas hated me and used a special form of psychological warfare that kept me in fear until I went to college. Even now, the word "Gringa" makes me want to put on big rings and get ready to buck.

Then I moved to San Francisco, and I developed a strong distaste for the L-Taraval ladies. I lived in a predominately Asian neighborhood and after crossing 19th avenue, I would be one of the token Caucasians on the train. There was some cultural stuff happening that I just wasn't able to understand. These older Asian women would have pungent pink plastic bags filled with vegetables and fish guts. They would push past me or if i didn't give up my seat, they would set their groceries on my lap. Twittering in Cantonese and often launching their sputum without care. I tried to keep my mind open, tried to talk myself into being non-judgemental but it didn't work. I hated them. I hated their groceries. I hated being an unwelcome guest in their world.

Modesto, 15 years ago, didn't really have a large black population.
So, I had limited contact with Black folk until I moved to Memphis. It was strange. The South just set me back. At first, I blamed whitey for the problems with race relations in the South. I am a middle-class liberal. We are hard wired to blame whitey for everything. After about a year, I realized it wasn't so simple. Both whites and blacks had internalized anger and poverty bred ignorance. It takes two to tango and in Memphis, both sides seem to continue the hate.

And there are Black men.

I have issues with Black men. When it comes to friendship, I am completely comfortable. But dating? If part of why you wanna date me, is my race-that isn't any different than not dating me because of my color.

Sociologically/historically, the appeal of the white girl has to do with subverting power from the Slave master. Black men have been hyper-sexualized in history. During slavery they were seen as savage, sexual animals.It was a way of de-humanizing them,to rank their behavior as carnal and primordial like beasts-so that whitey could in good conscience use them as beasts of burden.The stereotype of the "Black Buck" arose from the fear and racism of that time. So it has been handed down for generations, white men feeling emasculated in the presence of their black counterparts and that fear being propagated by a particular demographic of black men who view white girls as white diamonds. It is crazy, it is like hip-hop embraces the negative stereotype. All the songs about women being hoes, about "fucking a bitch, then fucking her friend" etc. The black man is still the uber-potent sex machine that can't be stopped. From the plantation to the hood-it blows my mind.

I have been thinking about all the stuff alot. There is a guy at work who seems like a perfectly laid back decent guy-and he wants to go catch a movie or something sometime-and I can't take him completely at face value because he is black. Which is crazy! He is talking about having a drink and I am struggling to separate that drink from some linear, ethno-sociological experience.

how about that for a random rant?

and fuck you some more-with feeling

The emails from last night weren't exactly well
thought out or kind and I apologize. I went out and
had drinks with the girls to curse men and the gods
and whoever else would listen. that said-

I just don't get it.

I don't think I ever will.

I am not playing games with you.I just don't
understand what your problem with me is. I feel close
and connected to you and somehow that is a bad
thing.Reaching out is "coming at you aggressively".

I think we had sex because there are still feelings
and not just mine. I think you still care for me and
are uncomfortable with that for whatever reason. I
think of you came to Vegas it would happen again. I
look back on  the times we have seen each other since
we split and it has always been in broad daylight, in
public. Last summer I wanted you to come over to
Christie's for dinner and you declined in favor of
coffee in public. I think you are scared of me Mr.
Murphy,or scared of how I make you feel.

When we saw each other in Indianapolis we practically
finished each others sentences but you found the
exchange awkward. I thought it was comfortable and
exciting.I thought we really clicked.In fact it was
when I got back from Indianapolis that I told my
friends about you for the first time-loving you,
losing you-the whole saga. I said that I thought you
were still scared of me after all this time and that
was a signal of something deeper- in a really twisted
way. Oh, and before I left for Vegas I knew that we
would end up in bed.Some things feel over and some
things are just forced to end.I think we never really
ended, it just wasn't the time for us.

When we both were in Vegas and out with Lynn...it
seemed perfect.Everything was in place...there was us
being us and vibing off each other.
It felt totally natural.When we talk it feels
good.Why is that bad? Why won't you open up?

I love you. so what?

Fuck You Mr. M

Milan Kundera .

It is hot here. really hot. and since vegas for us working stiffs is boring-all people talk about is the heat-and maybe the latest casino implosion or the de-egyptiazation of the Luxor.

and I am losing my mind.

and since I am losing my mind I have taken to do what I do most when I am losing my mind. read milan kundera. oh and usually losing my mind also leads to me a taking an odd-fitting lover-but I am not that motivated these days. Like I said to S last night in a rumple induced moment of clarity-I see things, I rub against them, then I leave town.

6 years ago I went through a sad break-up. It was both a break up with my love and my entire life. I left san francisco-went to europe, had a very hot but very ill fitting love affair and read milan kundera with a zeal that could only be brought on by that kind of loss.

now back in a similar situation I am reading " The Book of Laughter and Forgetting" by my old friend Milan. There is a bit where one of the characters talks about taking men for sex and friendship, but never for love because of its selfishness and hysteria...I think that is so interesting.

we think of love as this selfless, priceless, eternal thing. yet, once you love someone-you feel a sort of ownership of them...you want to protect them and draw them closer...that could be stifling to the other person. Another person's life isn't yours and preventing them from expressing even negative behavior is a prison of sorts.

I am kinda dealing with those themes right now. I recently broke up with my life in Memphis. I am here in Vegas and I am pretty unhappy. I am going through some stuff with the ex from six years ago-because coming to vegas has brought him back into my life in a very intimate way. I confessed to him my feelings and what was on my mind and he saw it all as some tool of manipulation. or weapon against him. which is so far from my intentions...I have been going crazy, my stomach in knots, having trouble sleeping....I have been drinking too much and crying even more...but somehow those feelings that I have been killing myself trying to bury are some kind of assault on him.

and the worst part is that I think his reaction comes from fear. I scare him. He goes out of his way to control himself with me and about me.

Fuck that.

I would rather feel and experience the pain of something or someone then lock everything up in a safe place. I would rather suffer and scream my love off of roof tops, then guard my passions.

so life kinda sucks right now-but atleast I can fucking own up to my actions and feelings and not shrink back and accuse others for making me feel "imbalanced".

got that fuckhole. (even though he isn't able to read this)