i know that there are a couple different camps of thinking. there’s the white people all up and through their fee-fees, “BUT ALL WHITE PEOPLE AREN’T LIKE THAT!” camp. and the “BUT IF WE KEEP INTERMIXING, RACISM WILL GO AWAY!” (ie= colorblind/whitewashing) camp. and of course, just by having the audacity to assert power over my body, and heart i’m most likely to be called either 1. racist or 2. reverse racist. neither of which is possible. and if you don’t know why, you should stop reading right now and figure it out before you come back. clearly, i am speaking only from my experience, and and other folks of color who decide to invest in emotional, romantic, intimate relationships with white folks, it’s their business, and has no bearing on my ability to support them, stand with them in solidarity, as long as they don’t project any internalized racism my way. i love all my peeps. and all my peeps can make the best decisions for themselves, their familias and their hearts. i’m just talking about my choice.

contrary to popular belief, i don’t actually buy into the idea that “you just can’t help who you fall in love with” which i sometimes hear when people talking about falling in love, unexpectedly with a white person. i believe, like bell hooks so beautifully writes in all about love, that love is an action, a decision, a verb, and most of all a choice. we are not powerless, and love isn’t a pit we fall into. so, i therefore choose to love myself, and in loving myself, i feel like my partners are a reflection of myself, and the love i have for my (MY) community. our most intimate love grows in concentric circles into our community. of course, people define community for themselves, in different ways. the way i choose to build my community centers on the voices and lives, and protection, and safety of queer people of color. and white folks ain’t never kept me or us safe. and it’s not looking like they are about to start. so we gon’ have to save ourselves. and that may mean we have to do it without our white friends. (i should know. i currently have three white friends). self-preservation and coping is not racism. THIS is why all the black kids sat together in the cafeteria.

a common response i get from people when i say that i don’t date white folks is “but aren’t you limiting yourself/your dating pool”? but i didn’t say i only date one race. non-white folks make up 80% of the world’s population. that’s still a lot of people to fall in love with, or at least do it to before i die. i’ve spent my entire life learning about white folks, reading their books, getting their degrees, sitting at their cafeteria tables. the idea that i could assert autonomy, self-love, self-preservation, and fight against white racism by building loving community with other colored folks enrages them- they don’t like feeling left out.

i think that the reason that this bothers white folks so much is because it means immediately upon meeting me that they don’t have access to the very thing they believe (and that society reinforces) they should have access to. my body. white folks think they run this shit. lemme tell you something. it’s mine. they cain’t have it.

and even the most well meaning white folks are still impacted by power/privilege. and even when they are being actively anti-racist (here’s a cookie, white people), they get in their feelings, they fuck up. i have been so hurt, so let down, so disappointed and so shocked by my most radical white friends’ racism— the kind that sneaks up on you just when you let your guard down. we all fuck up. the difference is, i engage in critical race analysis every day of my life. at the center of the word kyriarchy, are lives like mine. and it’s not theoretical. i work at women’s organizations where i deal with cis white straight women’s “feminism” on the regular. i deal with racism everyday. i would like my house, my bed to be the one place, and probably the only place where i don’t have to deal with white racism. there are enough other dynamics to deal with. like being poly, being poor, queer, being a survivor, being a person with a history of disordered eating and having asthma. whiteness cannot come home with me. i don’t have the energy to dissect whether doggie style is actually a reinforcement of “the man’s” grasp on my economic mobility or feel like nude inspection by my lover has me back on auction blocks. i don’t want to be a fetish, an experiment, a prize. i’m not “brown sugar” spicy, or sassy. (i know, i know, not all white people are like this. k thanks, bye.) but a history of oppression, of racism, of slavery and genocide has very real, very psychic, traumatic impacts so i take care of myself by disengaging with white folks in that way.

it doesn’t mean we can’t be friends, and dear, loved ones. it doesn’t mean that we can’t share secrets, love each other and go for drinks, break bread, go on road trips, and work collaboratively in ending oppression. it just means i don’t want to let white folks in my panties, which is where my heart lives. and their hurt feelings about this do not kill them. however white racism rapes us, kills us, and then makes a mockery of our death by turning our mutilated effigies into cake that white people eat while laughing and smiling.

TRIGGER WARNING!

[for discussion of sexual violence, body shame and self-harm].

i have been sitting with the fact that it is sexual assault awareness month for days. seventeen of them to be exact.  it’s not that i’d forgotten. after years of doing anti-violence work, SAAM is practically omnipresent. i didn’t forget about SAAM at all, nor was i completely ignoring it. instead, i’ve been thinking about how to talk about violence in a way that is new and maybe, for myself, i wanted to think about ways to talk about violence that weren’t so painful, and triggering. i haven’t come up with it yet. i don’t know if there are ways to describe sexual violence that aren’t, like violence, invasive, hurtful and traumatic. i’ve been triggered quite a bit lately. my heart feels like it’s on empathy overload. lots of tears, accompanied by flashbacks, and nightmares. my inner child is screaming for love, affection, and physical and emotional safety in a world that rarely feels safe. so i wrote my inner child a letter, to remind her that i am listening.

dear alicia,

it’s your eighth birthday.  you are spending it in your room writing stories, drawing pictures and humming to yourself. you often write stories about your abuse. you already know that what is happening is wrong, even though you don’t have the words yet. you are so smart. mijita, don’t be so hard on yourself. i can’t pinpoint when this started for you— you are the oldest child, and a virgo. i’m not sure how much of this influences your desire to be perfect, but i promise, you are perfect, right now.

i’m so sorry that you didn’t get the love and support you needed. i am so sorry that you aren’t and weren’t safe in your home. i’m sorry that you were constantly told you were bad, and dirty, and believed it. you did everything you could to be good. did you know that? did you know that you were and still are good?

i want you to know that what he did was bad. you did your best to protect yourself, and you shouldn’t have had to. you were so young. you didn’t do anything wrong. and you didn’t do anything to deserve it. it must have been so hard to laugh, and trust, even though you were being hurt in your own chaotic home. you are so brave to keep laughing. you were always so imaginative, and smart. i admire that about you. i’m sorry that no matter how many times you tried to tell your story in your own way, no one heard you. i’m sorry that when you overdosed on pills, or started cutting, that no one paid attention to what you needed. i’m sorry you went hungry so many nights, trying to change your body from the body that was abused into a new body you could live with. i’m sorry that you felt the need to pour yourself into everything you did, perfectly, so that you disappeared into perfection and goodness. you don’t have to do anything to be good. you already are. that was not the only way to be seen. i see you now.

i know that sometimes, people scare you. especially when you have never been kept safe by anyone but yourself. i’m sorry you had to do it all alone. but i’m here. and i’m listening to you. no matter how many people didn’t hear you, abandoned you, neglected or abused you in the past, know that you are safe now. and i will never leave you. i promise to be a good listener for you. i promise to trust and hear you when you are afraid. and when you are bursting with joy and laughter, i promise to hear that too. because i love you and you deserve love, safety, and happiness.

you can stop blaming yourself now.

i love you.

you are loved.

i am at a crossroads. there is some coming together, and some falling apart. i have hurt and been hurt, i have loved, and been loved. i have fallen devastatingly short of expectations, and in some ways, never expected anything to begin with. i have fallen in love with myself, and with many loves, in many ways. i have thought about how to repair the brokenness. the hurt. our collective hurt. i have been thinking about the ways that we turn our hurts into love. the magic, the alchemy, the art of love, thinking about how our hearts, filled with rage, disappointments, shame, guilt, funnel through eyes, and touches, and holding, and kisses, and become streams of love with support, empathy. how, just surviving together, just being in community together with our various identities, with our different lived experiences, turns our pain into love for ourselves and each other. the ways that we nurse one another, the aches– the way that, with love, “everything copper becomes gold” [rumi]. appreciating today, the ways in which love can be transformative.

if you are genuinely interested in other people’s culture, and are not intending to mock, be hurtful and racist (even though you are) or buy into a trend, read a book about them, learn about thier history, and how that history affects their socio-political experiences today. do some political activism in collaboration with the community. not the kind where you think you are saving us, the kind that is actually collaborative. volunteer in communities you care about. help those communities dismantle racism by being responsible for your [and your peers’] actions and privilege. help prevent further colonization, imperialism, deforestation, in the cultures you are “intrigued by.” if you “don’t intend to be racist” don’t wear our cultural symbols as trends, or “costumes” because for some of us, that is a meaningful part of our everyday life. not an odd, other, exotic thing to be showcased, or exploited. there are other ways to show interest in a community or culture besides wearing it on your sleeve. do a little more research please. but most of all, if you want to wear cultural symbols as trends, use your own culture. (photo from here).

some cisgender men [sometimes] couple with women. this doesn’t neccessarily make them more aware of patriarchy, or exonerate them from having to address their sexism, right? it is assumed that even if a cis man dates women, he will still hold on to his male privilege. he will not lose male privilege as a result of dating women. men who date women may still be abusive or violent. dating women doesn’t automatically mean that men will never act out male privilege again, harbor gender stereotypes, or be all-out chauvanists.

so, why do we so often assume that just because a white person is dating a person of color, that they deserve a get-out-of-racism free pass, don’t maintain and act out white privilege, or somehow “can’t be racist” just because they are coupled with a brown person?

i’m curious. is this a realistic, fair analogy?

in addition to raping, pillaging, burning down homes, and mass genocide of indigenous people, he probably would have also hated gays as much as he hated the value and worth and dignity of all brown and black people. needless to say, today is a complicated day. it is at once a day of memorial, a day of resisting the racist ideology of the celebration of “columbus day” and simultaneously, a day of resisting heteronormative views of happy, healthy relationships, by coming out as GLBTQ.

i think that both of these “celebrations” and resistances speak to struggles for visibility, struggles for recognition, making peace, creating equity, and reparations for a struggle. this is in no way comparing a day sponsored by HRC (really, what have they done for me lately?) to the mass genocide of millions of indigenous people throughout the america’s sparked by columbus’ hap hazard, and accidental landing in “america.” but i think these two days, falling together this year, is an incredible teaching moment. a reminder of the interconnectedness of oppressions, and our struggles to fight back—even from the margins of society.

columbus is not a man i choose to celebrate. and i also recognize that coming out, for some of us, may not just be uncomfortable, but also unsafe. and in the wake of many heartbreaking suicides by our young LGBTQ family, and the recent torture of three young men in NY we have to remember, that it’s homophobia, justified fear, and discrimination that keeps people closeted. a catchy campaign slogan will not keep us safe. being “single-issue” movements will not keep us safe. only dismantling all forms of oppression will save us now. so, today, i memorialize the indigenous lives that were lost as a result of columbus’ landing on their shores. but indigenous folks are still here, still surviving, living. so, i stand in solidarity with urbanized, and reservation dwelling modern native americans (from all parts of the americas) whose families and lives are ripped apart by poverty, systematic racism, and marginalization, and false eurocentric “borders.” and i stand with queer folks. if you are coming out today- you are so brave and millions of native americans, and queers folks today are standing together in solidarity and righteous anger, saying “down with celebrations of columbus, and down with homphobia.”

because it gets better sometimes.

i’m cheating on wordpress with tumblr.

i will still be posting here regularly.

however, my new tumblr page is the less wordy version of myself.

you’re welcome.