In a word, never.
The looming Demoncratic (spelling intended) Convention makes an already relevant topic even moreso. Politically, the presidential aspirations of an African American man or a biracial man if you wish to be technical, demonstrates the historical significance of race in this country. It used to be about the civil focus black versus white...and over time it has evolved into brown versus white, brown versus black, black versus whatever color you think a culture should subscribe to.
In a nation that seems bridled by classifications, we spend a lot of time trying not so valiantly to prove otherwise. I watched Philly Mayor Michael Nutter grow increasingly frustrated with the notoriety his heritage has played in his party and candidate affiliations. We watched Presidential hopeful Barack Obama passionately address race in America after the controversy surrounding the words of Pastor Jeremiah Wright. And every evening across America and across networks you can hear political pundits slice and dice race into convenient pieces that describe who you will vote for and why, based on the information contained in your birth certificate.
I overheard a woman this weekend comment with great disgust, "when do we get to stop talking about race in this election...and in LIFE?"
I would argue that we'll stop talking about it when the very notion of it stops making folks bristle, chafe, roll their eyes into their heads or assume the topic simply does not apply to them. In a word, never.
That is not to say that race will always have an ugly role in our "modern" society. It is to say that so long as we have differences, no matter if they are pigment or otherwise, we will seek to distinguish. Quantify. Cross-examine. Compare and contrast. Establish trends. Segment, segment, segment. Now, more than ever, I find myself - when I choose, able to bring up the obvious uncomfortable moments without fear that people will assume I'm making a remark because I am an "angry black person." In Austin, in particular, I celebrate times when I can point out certain disparities in demographics to friends of different colors and cultures and affiliations as an invitation to have healthy dialogue about why that may or may not be. But I also still experience moments that aren't so welcome. When that exasperated sigh and, "I thought we were over all THAT" is expressed in word or action.
We still have far to go, and where we land depends entirely on how willing we are, to keep talking about race.
So...I say to you, what I said to her.
I hope we talk about race until it's no longer frustrating to do so.
Prologue.
I traveled all the way around just to find myself again. Taking the scenic route, I found new and interesting ways to color my path with a palate others told me I should use. I colored for awhile, and created a landscape that was not my own. All the while, my true landscape grew wild and free held captive only by my dreams.
I proceeded to get lost. Painfully and frighteningly lost.
But getting lost, is probably the only way to eventually be found. You will tire of wandering around in someone else's interpretation of your life, and you learn to appreciate the subtleties of your own. What once felt so boring and dull now feels wise and comfortable. What once seemed so ordinary suddenly shines with a luster that pains my eyes. What once seemed so unusual and odd, now rings with a familiarity of history that was formed before well before my birth. My story.
When the time comes for it, you will feel a hunger deep within the center of you that you just know you are capable of quelling. To nurture that hunger will feel natural. You won't need to think about it, and research the best way to do it. You will just do it, sometimes without knowing why or how you managed to acquire such overwhelming ability.
We sometimes make a mystery of being the people we are born to be. But the truth of who we are will always be found...eventually.
Mom surprised me when I visited her today. She has a new member in her family, and her name is Bella. She's a 3 month old chocolate lab with the sweetest, (and smartest) little expression you'll ever see. Right now, she's struggling to grow into her giant ears and big paws while steering clear of Socks, mom's black Lab mix, who so far is tolerant, but not necessarily pleased with the notion of having to share her home, her backyard, her pool and her mommie.
She's got some minor issues the vet is treating her for, but here's hoping she's a happy, sturdy and healthy little girl. And yes, before you even ask, I cuddled her senseless.
Welcome, lil Bella!
Patrick Ewing, Jr. Disturbing that I remember growing up watching his FATHER play. *shakes head*
This little darling is waking up and ready for sun. I know lots of folks who can relate!
Share a story of a time you acted foolishly.
I have so many of them (daily), I dare not try and actually retain them.
I haven't even been gone for 48 hours yet, but I'm thinking about her. At least three times a day. Wondering what she's doing, hoping she's comfy and not to worried about anything. I've mentioned her at least once a day to others who understand my affection and can relate to my missing her so terribly even with scenery as breathtaking as the sights around me.
She's in the back of my mind. Big hazel eyes boring a hole into my head with total adoration. A head beneath a fleece throw, able to hear the slightest crinkle of a food wrapper a million miles away.
I will get home tomorrow night, just 25 hours from now. She will hop gingerly on her front legs; the rear legs are too stiff to play along. She'll lick her chops in anticipation, beckoning me to let down the baby gate so she can race around the carpet, smell my luggage and then proceed to lick every inch of my skin she can find. And then she'll follow me from room to room, to ensure I don't stray. She'll lay outside of the bathroom door, waiting for me to come of out the shower. She'll watch me without fail until I tell her to get into her bed. I'll cover her with her favorite blanket, and kiss the top of the her furry soft head. I'll whisper goodnight. She'll yawn in my face and burrow deeper under the covers. I'll go to sleep while she does the same.
People ask me why I pamper her. It's because for over nine years, she has pampered me. For all her days of vigilance, comedy, entertainment and mischief...it is the very least I could do.
Much as I love San Diego...I can't wait to return to my Mecca.
