In Bushwick, They Speak Spanish to Me

I stopped into a bodega to get some chips. And as I stood in line, waiting for my turn, an elderly woman turned to me and said, “E’ todo que va a comer?” Once I realized she was talking to me, it was my turn to pay, and I lost the window of time that I needed to translate what she said and respond. (I’m not quick on my feet in Spanish!)

But two things struck me:
1) A stranger was concerned about what I was eating. (Sweet or judgmental? Ha.)
2) The woman spoke to me in Spanish.

The next day, I was strolling through the neighborhood, and an elderly man was walking on the sidewalk ahead of me. As I got close to him, I stepped aside and passed him on the side, so as not to disrupt his slow, calculated walk. And as I passed, he said, “Oh, disculpame.” I turned and smiled and he said, “Que lindas morenitas” to my friend and me.

I have never been anywhere in the U.S. where people talked to me in Spanish in such a mundane, presumptive way. How disarming and delightful.

It was an interesting experience in my black body. The thing about Bushwick is that my blackness did not preclude the possibility of being Spanish-speaking. This is, of course, a function of the (very apparent) racial diversity of Latinos in New York. (Perhaps also a function of being light-skinned with hair that seems uncertain about its texture.)

This is a markedly different experience from being in Texas, where to be black and speak Spanish is to be suspicious or even offensive. I recall a time when I observed a young man openly and persistently hitting on a woman in the front row of a class I was teaching. I sensed the woman getting increasingly uncomfortable with the interactions, which happened entirely in Spanish. So, after several minutes of feigning incomprehension, I stepped between them and said, “Hey! Comprendo todo. Déjala en paz, compa.” He turned beet red and others in the room gasped, laughed, and erupted with curiosity!
“How you know Spanish, miss? You Dominican?” (Because…of course.)
“Oh dang! Why you didn’t tell us you speak Spanish?”
(The truth is my Spanish is just okay. But I knew enough to understand the conversation and use my power to buffer the woman from his uncomfortable advances.)
They were shocked and shook.

Mmkay, so like…none of this is new or groundbreaking, really. But I think it’s important to revisit the “shapeshifting” of blackness in different contexts. (I’m reminded of what my blackness meant/felt in Kenya and in Barbados–I should write about that.) This is a reminder of our diasporic connections and the possibilities for solidarity. It also motivates me to continue my language development so that I might better connect with Spanish-speaking folks who look like me. This is an important piece of my Afro-Caribbean identity and kinship with the Spanish-speaking Caribbean.

In Bushwick, to be black is to be a possibility. Possibly an immigrant. Possibly Afro-American. Possibly Latina. Possibly a native New Yorker. Possibly not. Possibly any number of things.

To be black anywhere is to be a possibility. Actually.

 

 

For Queer Women Who’ve Contemplated Men’s Jeans When the Pockets ain’t Enuf

A quick Internet search confirmed my suspicion that other women have contemplated abandoning women’s jeans in favor of men’s jeans. This is especially true of the subset of queer women who desire well-fitting but less feminine cuts.

There are lots of good reasons to switch to men’s jeans:

• They come with waist and inseam sizes instead of one arbitrary waist size, which means it’s easier to get a more tailored fit for your body.
• They are usually of better quality and durability, which means you can keep them longer and save money.
• They have much deeper and therefore more functional pockets, so you can lighten your load and actually fit your phone, wallet, keys, etc on your person.
• They tend to be less trendy, so the classic design will endure through various fads and style evolutions.

But it’s not always an easy transition. It can be hard to know your size (even after you measure yourself) because you have to take into account thighs and hips and booties (and men’s jeans typically aren’t made to accommodate all that). It can be hard to determine which cut will give you the desired silhouette while still being comfortable.  And, frankly, it can be hard to negotiate the social expectations of shopping in the men’s department (thank the gods for online shopping).

The bottom line is you’re going to have to try a lot of things before you find what you’re looking for. Here are some strategies I recommend:

• Start in thrift stores. You can try a lot of different styles for not a lot of money. I’ve found a few really great pairs there. And if you find a brand or style you really like, you can always seek it out and invest in a new pair.
• Try sizing up. This will give you a little more room in the hips and booty.
• Go with skinny and slim cuts. They will give you a fitted look without cutting off your circulation like women’s skinny jeans. Relaxed, straight, and loose will work great for some body types and aesthetics, but they are generally too baggy.
• If you order online, try buying the same jeans in 2 different sizes. You can also try buying 2 different cuts in the same size. It helps to be able to compare. Then just send back the ones you don’t want.

Listen, I’m not a jeans expert, and I’m certainly not the most stylish person I know. But, if you’re like me, a few tips can go a long way toward looking nice without having to devote tons of time and energy to it. For those who have some serious coin, you’ll find great, high-end jeans that fit well (or are custom-made). For the rest of us who still owe Sallie Mae a fuck-ton of money and struggle to find well-fitting clothes, I hope this has been helpful. I recently purchased these skinny jeans from Old Navy, and they are great. I would recommend them

Rachel Dolezal Resurfacing and All the Questions We Didn’t Answer Last Time Around

Rachel Dolezal is back in the news, which means I’m back into heated debates about this woman. However bizarre this story, I’m actually glad she’s back on our radar screens because we have some unfinished business.

Let me back up for a second and talk about two important concepts: race and ethnicity. Race is understood as physical differences that are assigned social significance. Ethnicity refers to shared culture or cultural heritage. It’s important to be clear about these concepts because they are not the same thing.

Now, when Dolezal identified herself as Black, everyone lost their shit. Why? Because Dolezal was born to racially White parents, and she is, therefore, racially White. And for her to claim that she is racially Black is dishonest, inaccurate, and problematic.

BUT…that’s not what she did.

I believe Dolezal has laid claim to Black ethnicity. Historically, I think Black race and ethnicity have been conflated. But if you think about it, we know that Black folks born and raised in Mississippi are culturally different from Black folks born and raised in Trinidad. They are racially Black but ethnically distinct.

Now the hard part…what exactly constitutes Black ethnicity, especially for U.S. Americans? 
Another hard question: Can someone transfer from one ethnic group to another? (“transethnic”?)
And finally, who gets to decide the criteria for authenticity concerning ethnicity? And who decides whether or not someone has adequately satisfied those criteria?

I think these are complex questions that her particular story brings to the surface, and I do not think we have given these questions sufficient time and attention. Seems like folks would rather pop off, call her out, and be pissed. Quite honestly, I think the astringent reactions are due, in part, to a deep uncertainty about what it means to be Black and who does and doesn’t have access to Blackness as an identity. (I certainly share concerns with many people around privilege, power, and appropriation.)

Is Dolezal problematic? Yeah, I think so. But I’m less concerned about her than I am about people (especially Black people) working through the hard questions Dolezal’s life presents.

Personally, I think it’s possible to be Black without being black. Know what I mean?

The Political Preventions of Self-Acceptance

Lately, I’ve felt envious of certain women. What is it about these women that I envy? I envy their total comfort with their own non-normativity, particularly around gender expression. What I mean is that women are expected to be feminine, and our culture has very particular (although often tacit) prescriptions for how that femininity should look and act. Yet, there are women who depart from these expectations and seem so at ease, at peace, and confident in doing so.

Meanwhile, at my therapist’s office, we chat about the importance of accepting and approving of myself. Seems like good advice. But I struggle still to accept myself as a woman who is a noticeable mashup of masculine and feminine, who often is read as more masculine than I feel, and who often feminizes my expression to ward off judgment/rejection from an imagined critic.

I have often wondered why I don’t have the self-possession and self-esteem to be totally comfortable with my gender expression. But that question, I think, presupposes that the qualities can develop and sustain totally apart from political realities. When I say “political”, I mean it in the broadest sense: power. To understand politics is to understand power structures. And I think what I am realizing is that there are indeed political factors that prevent self-acceptance of queer, Black, non-normative me.

In this white supremacist context, I face constant dismissing and devaluing of blackness. In this heterosexist context, I face the pathologizing of queer desire and queer family. In this patriarchal context, I contend with male privilege, the policing of female bodies, and narrow conceptions of what constitutes a socially acceptable woman.

Suddenly, the self-acceptance imperative is much more complicated than psychological actualization.

I do not think self-acceptance is radical. I do think it is exceedingly difficult, and that difficulty is an extension of our political conditions, which are best understood with a radical analysis of power. The political conditions literally prevent self-acceptance. They are vaccinations against love of blackness, love of queerness, and peace of mind about a self liberated to be whoever it wants to be. I think folks like me will struggle with this until the conditions are different.

I don’t have the solution to this problem (revolution notwithstanding, ha). I think I will just be less hard on myself about the envy I feel and the struggle I face to be okay with who and how I am.

A Response to Raven-Symoné on Black Names

What would posses a Black person to say “I’m not going to hire someone with a name like that,” when so much greatness has come from people with names like that? Wasn’t Raven hyphen alternate spelling of “Simone” just on Empire with Jussie Smollett, Taraji P. Henson and the artist formerly known as Terrence Dashon Howard? Didn’t she bounce on the knee of Phylicia Rashad? Didn’t a good chunk of her fortune come from playing Galleria Garabaldi in The Cheetah Girls franchise? And isn’t’ she sitting across the damn table from Whoopi “EGOT” Goldberg?

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Austin LGBT Latinxs Share Their Identity Stories

“We’re Afro-Latin, queer, vegan, hip-hop artists in the U.S.” Prendes says. “At the end of the day we are by ourselves because no one shares those identities with us.” If they go to queer events, they may be the only Latinas. And if they go to queer events specifically for minorities, they may be the only immigrants speaking Spanish.

“We are queers for real,” Prendes says. “Even in the queer community, we are the queerest of the queer.”

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Selfies and the Art of Self-Reflection

I have a theory about “selfies”.

But first, a confession: I have more than my fair share of self-portraits snapped with some forward-facing camera, and I sincerely hope no one ever happens upon any of my mobile devices. It’s truly embarrassing how many pictures of myself I have. Although I (for the most part) have not broadcast my catalog of selfies on social media, I am not exempt from the critiques leveraged against selfie culture.

I would like to suggest an explanation of selfies that extends beyond the typical, “millenials are narcissists” explanation.

I think we, as humans, have a deep need to see ourselves. I do not mean a need to literally see ourselves, as in a mirror; I mean a need to observe who/how/what we are more wholly. We want to be able, even if for a moment, to objectively observe our selves. To see our selves as others, perhaps, see us. Now, mystics and spiritual folk have been known to meet this need through meditation. Through meditation, they quiet the mind and create enough distance to watch their thoughts pass through the mind, which happens on a different level than just thinking thoughts with the mind. They also face themselves and the substance of their souls: intentions, desires, hurts, etc. This process can be an incredibly elevating, transformative, and productive practice.

So, what does meditation have to do with selfies?

Well, I think that the proliferation of selfies evidences our deep need to see ourselves. However, without the tools or discipline to do the more substantive work of self-reflection, we settle for the substitution of self-portraits. For reasons we can not explain, we delight in seeing ourselves. And yet, our appetite for selfies never seems satisfied. Maybe that’s because pictures I take of myself will never actually show me what it is I truly want to see: who I am.