Civil Rights? What the heck is that?

I start this blog with a deep sigh. I've been back home in middle Georgia for a month and a half. Its not as bad as I'd anticipated especially with the spark of a new romance (who will be known as "Hot Tea" for privacy). I know its been a long time since I've blogged, but in the Fall when I was still in open-minded Savannah, I had a short, not too serious relationship with someone with a darker skin tone (we'll call him "Skrawny"). Non of my friends or co-workers even batted an eye at our inter-racial relationship. But neither one of us could be open with our families because of the comments we had heard all of our lives about how we shouldn't be with someone different. There was a huge rush of adrenaline to be out in public, not caring about anyone who had the nerve to stare. It was also very intense physically because of the "forbidden fruit" idea our familes and placed on such a thing. I find it pretty interesting that our relationship fell right during the time we elected Obama. We had fantastic conversations about everything we saw happening around us. What I never saw coming was the tiny subtle difference that started causing a great strain on our relationship. For instance, the role of women in a typical white home versus a typical black home. I grew up with both parents, my father taking the head of household, but not in that scary "I'm the man so I run this" stand point. Scrawny grew up with a single mother, who worked two to three jobs to provide for her three children, while their dad was off in another state starting a new life. I was also recovering from being in a relationship with someone who was psycho to say the least but verbally abusive. So when it came time for Scrawny and I to decide something, I would tap out and say "whatever you want is fine." And not in that googly eyed new relationship kind of way. It was more like, I'm not going to make the decision so that if something goes wrong, you can't blame me because ultimately you are the one that made the choice. Can you believe that? Thats how twisted my last relationship had been. Scrawny would become furious with me for not just saying what I wanted straight out. He of course, was used to a strong woman that was going to handle things on her own, not depending on anyone else. It got alot more complicated than that, and while I certainly don't think we broke up because of our color, there were alot more things than I thought that are important for making a relationship work. In one of the psych classes that I was taking at the time talked about how we have a hard enough time making marriages work as it is. But add the fact that you have a different background, your parents don't approve of the relationship, and you are already dealing with a 75% chance things wont work out for the best. Basically, all of that was to let you know my racial issues that I've dealt with recently that caused a whole lot of tears and arguements. So then I come home.....
Now Hot Tea and I are the same "color", we grew up on the same side of town, our father's played little league together and all that jazz. Well we were both able to get out of middle Georgia for college, even though we did both still end up in Georgia schools. But we both had opportunities that exposed us to people from all over the states with different ideas and opinions that we were able to talk to and take the time to understand our differences. Hot Tea spent from May to October of the past year working for AmeriCorps. He spent time in Washington, Oregon, and California. We'd both jump at the chance to move out West, but due to the economy and both of us being college grads without jobs, we're lucky enough to have parents that would take us in and let us take the time to save money. I swore I'd never date another guy from Georgia and look what happened. I'm falling pretty hard for my Hot Tea. I picked his nickname because he in always drinking hot tea to the point that his mom is "sick of seeing the stuff". Anyway, we both roll our eyes at comments from each of our families about our new President and other really ignorant comments, so I'm not at all implying that either family is more racial than the other. Or even that I'm not racial at all. I believe Mare is the one that told me we're all racial to some degree by human nature, some just alot more. This is just the most recent of events. While hanging out in a fun central location with alot of his family, I noticed a drawing on the wall. It was a map of some small town Georgia that I'd never heard of. But what made my mouth drop open was the fact that the map included "Master's Home" and "Slave Quaters" on it. And the map itself was hanging right next to a cheesy sepia photo of an Uncle and his wife dressed in 1800's costume with a Sons of the Confederacy certificate tucked in the frame. I wanted to spit on it. It was disgusting. Hot Tea and I had already talked about how this uncle runs his mouth about his own ignorant views and now his young preteen son has started adopting these thoughts as his own. Hopefully the son will realize the error in these thoughts as soon as he gets out of his father's house.
My own family isn't much better. My dad has mentioned before that he knew of relatives in the KKK. (Not currently, but back when he was growing up) And I know that my Dad would never be that extreme, nor is he violent, but its absolutely horrifiying that someone I share my bloodline with could ever be so cruel. I can hardly bear to think about it. My dad and I mainly argue over politics. And suprisingly, after it was all said and done, my dad informed me that he knew about my relationship with Scrawny. I was impressed with his reaction, which was calm and loving towards me, never saying anything about it. I desprately want to buy an Obama shirt and wear it around my family, and even Hot Tea's family to see what kind of reactions I stir up. I found a fantastic one that says "Obama Yall". I've just started reading "Dreams from my Father" by B. Obama and I'm enjoying it. I just hope we can get enough people to see that times are changing, the N word is not acceptable, and that we're all equal in the eyes of God. I guess we'll see what happens next....

update on our gross national happiness

i haven't posted in over a month now, something which i'm not too proud of. there's a number of updates which i intend to share as the blog gets back up and running, which i will share at a later date. first, here's a copy of an email that i sent to my former west african dance teacher in college.

it is the product of a conversation with funnyface after my west african dance class the other night and also my own thoughts on what it means to be a white person taking west african dance (funnyface's landlord refers to it as "minority dance.") here it is:

Thank you for returning my email Marylin! As of this past Tuesday night (1/13) I've started taking Senegalese dance at the Bangs Community Center with Talla. (don't know if you know him?) My goal is to be dancing 2-3 times a week (since I really don't think I'll get back in shape with just one class) and Talla mentioned that the Amherst Athletic Club Friday night one with Kabisko is still going on (which is good because when I called them last week after we "spoke" the guy that picked up the phone had no idea if there was a class or not and was not very much help in finding one). Also, Talla teaches one above Fitzwilly's in NoHo (assuming it's the same studio where the Afro-Cuban one is being held?) on Monday nights.It's $15 a pop but I might go every now and then. I just wanted to let you know that I'm making progress as far as finding some classes and I wanted to share the ones that I found out about since your students this semester might be interested (or need to go to them to make up classes haha).

And if I've never stated this clearly -- thank you for the gift you give your students. I know many personally that now will continue (or at least plan to) study African for the rest of their lives. How wonderful that you can inspire such a love for such an important art form that I fear would otherwise die out due to globalization and the ever-spreading of Western Capitalism throughout the world. I felt amazing leaving Talla's class on Tuesday and I realized that it was not just the "exercise high" that runners sometimes talk about. It was the first time in awhile (probably since the last time I was in an African dance class) that I felt like I had been involved in a ritual, or in something that was actually...filling.

The problem with capitalist cultures (sorry soapbox time) is that our culture was stunted before it was ever actually formed. We were tricked and pimped out into thinking that material goods, and chasing the Green could make us happy. We are the richest nation in the world, but our GNH - our Gross National Happiness is one of the lowest. Malawi, one of the poorest countries in the world, reports one of the highest numbers of people who feel that they are "happy." So-called "Old World" cultures value relationships, traditions, and art. This is what I love about African dance and African culture. It is about the individual, but also the community, it is about you and me and our ancestors (no matter who they are or where they were or what they looked like...) and it is about sharing. Sharing something that, for once, cannot be bought or sold, (or bailed-out for that matter).

Thank you for being a part of this transaction. I think it's important for us Americans to be reminded of all of these things. I hope this all makes sense.

Be Well,
Maridath

may the new year increase your own GNH.