0 comments Jun 29, 2008

African. That would suggest I'm from Africa. Funny thing, though, no one in my family, as far as I know was born in Africa, or has even lived or visited there for a time. So why am I expected to silently fall under a label, another method of categorization, a sly means of discrimination and simply allow myself to become African? I was born in Stuttgart, Germany on June 2nd of the year 1989. A few months later, I moved to Bay Ridge in Brooklyn, New York. I spent the better part of fourteen years there, spending only a whopping two just across the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge in Staten Island before moving to Columbia, South Carolina. My mother was born in New York, but raised in South Carolina. Her father was from the islands. Her mother was raised in South Carolina, and presumably born there. My- let's call him the Biological Sperm Donor- was West Indian, while my father is from St. Kitts, also West Indian. A ton of my cousins and aunts on my father's side live in various parts of Britian, with the rest remaining either in New York or the islands.

None of the above mentioned places involves Africa at all. Arguably, I'm West Indian. The general notion seems to be that if you're black, you're obviously African in some way. If you take a look at humans as a whole, there aren't really all to many white people (we're talking skin color here). That's because white people is an oversimplified, quite idiotic classification for a wide variety of people, the same way there are very few black people. When you really start looking at people and really trying to get an idea of their color makeup, you see neither white nor black. What you see are a range of reds, greens, pinks, peaches, and browns for both- albeit to varying degrees. If you really think about it, Asians, so-called Caucasians, Hispanics, etc would all be so-called white people- the differences in skin tones aren't nearly so drastic as the white/black split and so they'd be categorized as white. Yet, that wouldn't be quite right, would it? Specifically where asians are concerned there are significant differences where they simply aren't the same outside of skin color- the most obvious area being the eye lids. Similarly, it isn't quite right to group all so-categorized blacks into a group either. There are a wide range of so-called blacks- which skips out on a lot of the lighter spectrum, neglects any sort of medium, and dives straight toward one end. Simply put, the categorization of white and black is like an achromatic scale without any of the connecting values- like a rainbow without any of the obscure blends of colors between them that even make it possible.

Most importany, however, is the fact that to be African, you, indeed, have to be from Africa. There are white Africans. And there were race issues there as well. Any caucasian, any day of the week will tell you that they aren't “just white” because they're a quarter Irish- on their father's side, and an eighth cherokee, etc, etc with random fractions I don't really care about. Yet, blacks are “just black.” Automatically designated as Africans. Of course, there's a reason for that isn't there. Something about the whole “all blacks originated in Africa” bull. Yea, well there's the “all life originated in Africa” argument, which would make us all Africans. In the grand scheme of things, at some point or another someone in your family probably had sex with someone who wasn't “what they were.” I think the chances of anyone truly being “pure-bred” or whatever you want to call it are extremely low. And even if that were the case, that's still no guarantee that I'm African. And even if that were the case, I shouldn't have to carry the title one of my ancestors had if whites don't have to carry theirs and are free to continually combine and adapt. Really, I'll do just fine checking “other” unless it means turning down the free money the system decides they have to give us black people- such as a scholarship that a South African white probably isn't eligible for.

1 comments Jun 22, 2008

Marriage is a concept. There's no worth to a marriage in itself. Legal documents are what make it significant, it's only the paper that says you're married and the legal benefits and tax cuts you receive that make being married any different than simply loving, living, and having kids with someone you'll love “for better or worse, 'till death do you part.” It's artificial at its core; merely a symbol of the bond felt by the parties involved. The concept of marriage as it stands today is quite simply an earthen one, as if your qualms are with religion- I highly doubt Adam and Eve were married in the same sense as we are today. Even if that were the case, which it's not, marriages have continually failed and been lessened with time anyway.

This past week a historical event took place: Cali opened the concept of marriage to same-sex couples. In all seriousness, that made my day. I have a serious problem with those who disagree with same-sex marriages. You can run your argument in circles all day long, but at the end of the conversation that I'll probably walk away from you're still going to be a prejudiced bastard- a horrid person, blinded by your own worthless ideals. Nothing, however, gets me angrier than a black person who is against the concept. You see, as a black person I acknowledge that my ancestors went through a lot of crap to obtain the rights that we now have, and I highly value equality as much as possible on all playing fields. To not only disagree with same-sex marriages, but vote against them is quite possibly the most ass-backwards thing a black person can do. Way to simulate the countless acts of discrimination blacks faced decades ago when they fought for equality and drive their ideals, their lives, into the ground.

I remember twice sitting through a sermon where same-sex marriage was mentioned. One of the times became and all-out political campaign against the rights of others. It's one of the experiences that's slowly been driving me away. “Jesus loves the little children, all the children of the world.” And, if he doesn't, then “let go and let God.” I hear there's this place called Hell where people who do wrong, in his eyes, end up. I believe your job as a Christian would be to spread the gospel, not enforce it. As has already been said, marriage in its current state is a purely human concept and so religion shouldn't even matter. Let's not be blind to that fact that non-Christians have the ability to get married. Where's the group effort to revoke that so-called privilege? Besides, let's not forget that here in the United States, we have a little something called separation of church and state. In simple terms, keep your beliefs out of my rights.

Laws are set up to protect your rights and the rights of others. To protect your ideals, yes, but not at the needless expense of the rights of others. As much as this may displease you, same-sex marriage doesn't do a damned thing to you, thus it should be legal. In actuality, voting against it, blocks homosexuals from reaping legal benefits. Sure it may be against what you perceive as right, but then so were interracial marriages, and desegregated schools. Which is obviously oh-so-different. Wake up and admit your wrong, or at least shut up about it and let history run its course.

2 comments Jun 19, 2008

Life. You only live it once, so you may as well take your best shot at it. No one really knows exactly why we're here or how it happened, but I think it's safe to assume that we're meant to be as happy with ourselves as possible while it lasts. I've had lots of conversation with friends that ended up dissolving into meaningless complaints of our oh-so-horrid lives. Everything possible had a mention: not having a job, lacking self-confidence, wishing for someone special to come along, wanting to be further along with art or any other important aspects of out lives. Recently, though, something has occurred to me. That lack of self-confidence almost definitely has to do with self-consciousness over my appearance. I'm certain that has an adverse effect on how I approach, or sometimes flat-out fail, with something as simple as making conversation with a woman.

You see, what I've come to terms with is that the problems I have seem to be linked. While I can't exactly level-up my confidence, I can do something about the way I look: I've started working out. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a huge flabby thing. Just the opposite: I'm a thin guy. I want to gain a bit of weight, muscle, and get definition. It's a great start, but it's nowhere near enough. I can't just go to the gym once or twice a week and expect significant gains. I have to start doing reps at home as well. The better I perceive myself as looking, the more confidence I'll have, it's a simple fix. Similarly, I haven't been practicing drawing much either because I'm not very good at it, which is an incredibly lame excuse to not work at getting better. It's cheap and amounts to saying “I don't think I can, so I'm not going to try.” Last week I started working at the Boys & Girls Club at a local elementary school. I hated it. The kids were wild and none of them would listen to me. When I went to work this Monday, though, I realized that at least this summer I actually had a job. Suddenly, the hours don't seem to drag on any longer, and as time goes on I'll learn their names and they'll start paying attention to what I'm saying more and more.

Not exactly sure this is the right topic to start a blog with, but the fact that I've even written it is evidence that I'm trying to get myself together and changing things in my life. I was supposed to try and have a blog up on June 2nd, but didn't meet the deadline because “I didn't know how to design my own layout yet,” as if that somehow matters more than content. I challenge anyone reading this first post to think about the things they say they're going to do, the things they wish they were better at, the things they complain about and see if there's no way to fix them.