Tuesday, September 20

This isn't the kind of writing I should be doing right now. I'm running out of time to be a nonacademic. But I'm waiting for my hair to dry and the smell of fruit and coconut remind me of when I was much younger and wiser than I am today. Because back then, knowledge would change me. It would enter into my body and shift my skin in all crazy directions until my pimply face mutated into something new entirely. It would transform my bones and joints until my fingers twisted into knots the way my mother would wring the laundry out to dry.

These days I don't come into knowing anymore. I hold it to the side of my tongue; pull out the arguments of dead white men when I forget how to speak my own words. I'm forgetting the stories my dad would whisper me to sleep.

Thursday, September 8

If you say "gay is the new black" I will shank you.

I realize that I'm not a part of any feminist organizations on campus; not NOW or VOX or YWLP (not anymore, at least). Yet, everything I do--scholarship, activism, writing, work--is involved in the pro-/women/peoples movement. I care about the feminist movement. I have learned love, respect and wisdom through feminism.

The problem is, frankly, that I can't deal with privileged white people anymore. My tolerance level for willful colorblindness has reached its peak. I can't handle the pseudo-progressives and the liberal white feminists who complain about there being a lack of involvement from people of color in their organizations, when the structure and function of said organizations don't meet the needs of a more inclusive community. And I'm not just sitting here bitching about power dynamics that I've learned about only through theory and other people's experiences. I have been there--too many times. I have put my blood, sweat and fucking tears into organizations that refuse to support my projects and instead chose to humor me like a child or simply dismiss my concerns. I have held that hurt in my chest. I have walked away a little less hopeful every time.

So, I sit in the corner licking my wounds, praying to the universe that I heal fast enough to sit through another women studies course without bursting into tears.

We've been talking about how to fix this for decades. We've been talking until our lungs have run out of air, until we've forgotten what our voices sounded like when we still had all of our dignity.

I don't mean to imply that all white feminists are racist. Not the case at all. But if you're not actively engaging in anti-racism, then yeah, you are. And I don't have time for you. I can't educate you. That's not my responsibility. You will come into knowledge when you are ready to seek it and to allow it to change you. Until then, there is no conversation to be had. I've spent too much of my time and energy waiting. But I have met good people who have taken the responsibility of educating themselves seriously. We are moving. I'll leave the address to our new home in the dresser you've always loved. Find us when you're ready.

It's not only about the other seizing power from the privileged. It is about those in positions of power relinquishing their authority as well.