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I was always already right here

Marta Elena Muñoz,
Austin, Tejas (TX)

Go back to where you came from. Imagine telling an American citizen of Mexican heritage (indigenous and Spanish mix) to go back to where I came from. As if this isn’t my ancestral land. As if “manifest destiny” and slave ownership weren’t reasons my ancestral lands were taken away. And now Texas government wants to build walls and vilify immigrants, as if this whole country wasn’t invaded and pillaged by white immigrants. As long as people want to avoid history, want to avoid their white guilt, want to disparage other nationalities, this country will continue to suffer from the internal festering. In the meantime, I am back to where I came from and where I have always been. And I welcome anyone that wants to share this American experience, one that has potential for greatness for all, whether you came here by choice or not. After all, would you be here if it weren’t for your parents?

White Slavery & The Myth of White Privilege

image35DeAnna Calderon,
Austin, TX.

I grew up poor in the Southside of Chicago. We were extremely poor and even homeless at times. Sleeping outside in the middle of winter when I was a child. When I was 22 I joined the Army. The treatment I faced as a woman in the military felt like it was 1954, instead of 2004. A man of any color was treated better than a female. When black people and white liberal suburbanites talk of “White Privilege” I asked myself, “Where was my ‘White Privilege'”?’ A lot of poor whites live in the same neighborhoods as blacks and Hispanics, go to the same schools, and work at the same jobs; yet, white privilege is thrown in our face as if we do not have the same struggles. Slavery didn’t start with the Atlantic Slave Trade and black people were not the only victims. In the Bible, Egypt (in Africa) enslaved the Jews. Millions of Europeans were enslaved by North Africans and brought back to the Barbary Coast (http://researchnews.osu.edu/archive/whtslav.htm). The first slaves in America didn’t come from Africa, but from Ireland. The Irish Slave Trade dropped the population in Ireland from 1,500,000 people to 600,000 within a decade. “African slaves were very expensive during the late 1600s (50 Sterling). Irish slaves came cheap (no more than 5 Sterling). If a planter whipped or branded or beat an Irish slave to death, it was never a crime. A death was a monetary setback, but far cheaper than killing a more expensive African” (http://www.africaresource.com/rasta/sesostris-the-great-the-egyptian-hercules/the-irish-slave-trade-forgotten-white-slaves/). The term slave actually comes from the Slavs or the ethnic Polish. The Slavs were enslaved by the Ancient Romans. Slavery even continues today in most countries, but the victims are women and children that are sold into sex trafficking. Life isn’t easy for anyone. The only privilege that exists today isn’t white, but green. Money and power will get you whatever you want. Michael Jordan, Russell Simmons, and other wealthy minorities have Green Privilege and with that privilege comes power.

Your words do not offend me!

Anonymous,
Austin, TX.

With the onslaught of social media, people feel that that they can judge and pressure any and everyone into being afraid to say anything that might be considered different or something that someone may disagree with. Like the old saying, “Sticks and stones can break my bones but words will never hurt me”. Being emotionally mature means that people can listen to someone else’s words and opinions and not be offended. If you don’t like or agree what someone says just don’t listen but shaming someone into not sharing their view isn’t going to make the world a better place

Messianic Jew Yogi? Pick one fool!

DCIM101SPORTSigne Wendt,
Austin, TX.

Jewish by heritage when I began to worship Jesus I was told I was no longer Jewish and I had to pick one.Now I try to connect Christians to their faith as a yoga teacher and I am not sure who is more uncomfortable with that. Yogis (at least in Austin) seem very dismissive of Christianity and so many Christians I meet think yoga is “from the devil”. Some of my more conservative friends don’t believe I can follow Christ and share yoga some of my liberal friends roll their eyes at the mention of Christ. But I am here to say, no I don’t have to “pick one”. I am my own spiritual soup and I hope you are too

Don’t ask me, “What are you?”

Cecile Nguyen
Austin, TX

Alternative title could also be “I hate the Asian Guessing Game.”
I really don’t mind people being curious about my ethnicity. What I do mind is how people go about finding out my ethnicity. “Are you Chinese? Japanese? Korean?…[list goes on]” Believe me, they’ll keep going until I stop them. And they will get some sense of relief because now they know. I am Vietnamese and no you can’t “tell” that I am Vietnamese by looking at me; I can’t tell who else is Vietnamese just by looking at them. At any rate, if I don’t stop one soon enough with “No, I’m Vietnamese,” I have been asked “What are you?” What a loaded question! Reasonable answers are:
– a Human
– a Woman
– a UT Alumna with a Degree in Advertising
– a Gamer
– a Fully Employed Project Manager
– a Spirited Austinite with a Penchant for Making Cards, Cooking with Friends, and Loving Her Life and the Important People In It
What Am I? Sick and tired of answering that question in particular, that’s what.

Listen, I am not a minority!

Skywalker Payne,
Homer, AK

In the 1970’s I worked at the University of Texas in Austin, where I first heard the oxymoron “minority-majority.” I wrote an essay then, called “The Minority Myth.” It’s now, “,” The 2021 census has shown we, People of Color, are becoming the new majority. Maybe we will learn to unify and let a true democracy manifest.

Yes, those boys are my brothers.

BrosJulia Guerra,
Austin, TX.

My brothers are very important figures in my life. They were born to a white mom and a white dad. They are blonde and red-haired, with blue and green eyes. When they were little babies, my white mom married my Mexican dad and he adopted both of them as his own. I am biracial, with brown skin and hispanic features. The majority of our small hometown almost refused to believe that we were siblings for the 16 years that we lived there. People would say to them, “that brown girl is your sister?” Even after leaving that small town, we are constantly mistaken as friends. People who meet us for the first time are baffled when we tell them that we are related. People who see them across the room say to me, “but they’re white.” We have been together all of our lives. We share a mother, a last name, and a lifetime of memories. Yes, those white boys are my brothers.

Chinese adoptee with two white moms

Ting Goodfriend,
Austin, TX
Willamette University

Growing up in a white household and being told to be proud of my identity from a white narrative has made the journey of my personal identification extremely hard. I’m too white to feel comfortable with my Chinese identity, but too Chinese to feel at home in white society.

Being white is more than privilege.

Adela Ludeke,
Austin, TX.

I know that whites are traditionally “privileged”, but I find it so cringeworthy when I hear other whites checking their privilege. It’s as if they have so much guilt because of what their ancestors did. And it’s more embarrassing when your parents check their privileges. Sure, racism is shameful, but too much white guilt is self-destructive.

____ Students’ Association! Fill the blank.

KM,
Austin, TX.

I am current in college at one of the largest public universities. Not a week goes by where I don’t see a group of students sitting at a table and asking passerby’s to join their organization. One of the most numerous types would be the such&such Students’ Association.

I am of mixed race. For one of the ethnicities, I have an extremely limited understanding of the language. For the other, the language is so obscure and archaic, not even a foreign languages hipster would know about it. My appearance is also unlike either group. This leaves me unable to really join either group without still feeling left out. It reflects a childhood where I was discriminated against or left out since I was half of one and of another.

I always wonder what it would feel like to be in one. If it is as full-filling as I always imagine it would be. It makes me wish there was a place for me at a campus with 75,000 people, that I could do something to make the place feel just a little bit smaller.

Told: Not African American? Not Black.

Auguste Budhram
Austin, TX

I was broke, in my twenties and had just moved to NYC when a friend told me that I could earn some extra cash by being a part of a focus group. When I called the ad agency, I was told I’d be asked a series of questions to determine if I was a suitable match for the group. First question: “Are you African American?” I paused.

I am first generation Canadian of Trinidadian descent who grew up in Montreal. At the time, nothing about me felt American (I was still un-documemted) and to tease out the African part of my heritage felt hypocritical. Yes, I have African blood, but as a Trinidadian, I am also equally Indian, European and Native American. Yet I knew the question was aimed at categorizing the color of my skin– which for my entire life, has been considered black.
I answered, “Well, I don’t identify as African American. I was born in Canada of Trinidadian descent.” Then I joked, “I’m Caribbean- Canadian!”

The interviewer said, “I’m sorry, this focus group is for Black people,” and hung up on me.
I grew up Black in Montreal. As a child I was teased about my hair, my skin color and my parents’ funny accents. I had a friends whose parents refused to let them play at my house because I was Black. And I’ve been called the n-word. So, when I was told I wasn’t Black, it stung– and I felt very alone.
(By the way, the focus group was for a brand of liquor aimed at African-Americans.)

Running Shouldn’t Lead To My Death

Dmitri Julius,
Austin, TX

We really appreciate the work being done here. Keep it up. It’s incredibly important and so impactful when we are able to see one another. I wanted to share these thoughts with our team as it’s been weighing heavily on my heart these past few weeks. I woke up in tears and a cold sweat imagining my son coming to the same fate as the slain Georgia jogger, Ahmaud Arbery. *Trigger warning*

I’ve been contemplating sharing how these events have affected the community and my family but have struggled to find the words amidst the shock, pain, and anger I feel. Here is my attempt at sharing these thoughts. Hopefully, they can positively impact someone out there with a misconception of the African American experience.

Ahmaud Arbery was perused, questioned, judged, and ultimately executed while exercising in the suburbs as I often do. This tragic event occurred the day after my birthday, 2.23.2020. I usually take a birthday run as a reminder to self how lucky I am to have life and limb and how young I feel.

I often do it at dusk and at a brisk speed. I get honks and comments from passing cars (of both encouragement and anger). I never respond. I stick to my pace and power through with my headphones in. I can’t shake the feeling that he was me. Minding his business before he was brutally executed. For those who might say, “what business did he have in that partially built home?” I respond, I often check out the floor plans of unbuilt homes in my neighborhood. For those who ask If there was nothing to hide, why not just stop and talk?” I say anyone with enough ill will within them to murder you likely wasn’t asking politely to get your attention. Your gut reaction would not be to stop and talk. Instead, you would likely accelerate and get out of the situation. To those who say, “He fit the description of a man who was a thief, shouldn’t concerned citizens have the right to take action?” I say, ask any black man you know if they have ever been told they “fit the description.”

Please do not be surprised when they tell you a story of the time they were misidentified, harnessed, stopped, questioned, and placed in harm’s way because of a “misunderstanding. ” To those who say, “The video looks suspicious, he may be the suspected thief, how can you argue with that? “ I say our laws are built in such a way to allow citizens to remain innocent until guilt is proven. I also say petty theft isn’t and should NEVER be a cause for a death sentence. Even if it were, that sentence would be handed down in a court of law from a judge and jury, not “citizen making an arrest.” No human deserves to be hunted down like a rabid dog in the street. That simply isn’t a punishment in this great country of ours. The only reason this young man is dead is that he is black. The only reason those men roamed free for months is that they were white. If you disagree with that, I challenge you to imagine the situation in reverse. Do two black men get to follow a “potentially suspected” thief in their truck? Would it be permissible to kill him on the roadside under the suspicion of petty theft? Would they be granted flexibility remain free men for weeks with a special note from the DA (Jackie Johnson) stating not to arrest them? Does a video of undeniable unnecessary escalation of force need to go viral to lead to an arrest weeks later? I think not. Brass tax is this could have been me, my father, my best friend, or… my son.

I’m so tired of the senseless murder of black men in this country. I’m tired of the terror forced upon black mothers and families dealing with this reality daily. I’m tired of the black form being brutalized/eliminated and the BS justification that follows. I’m tired of the endless string of examples of police ineptitude and legal miscarriages of justice that often allow killers and racists to remain free. Black and brown lives aren’t given the same value as white ones in this country, and on behalf of every black man, woman, and child, I cry STOP KILLING US! Until that changes, we implore our white brother and sisters to be allies. That means to stop allowing the racist comments to linger at gatherings. That means engaging in meaningful conversations on the topic of race. That means interceding when you Witness racial injustice. That means confronting internal implicit biases held by yourself and others in positions of power and control. That means to stop blaming the victims and using tropes and stereotypes to condemn the victims to unjustified deaths and broken families. That means developing some understanding that we hurt, grieve, and cry when another member of our community is ripped away. You must know, we struggle daily to make you feel comfortable by not sharing our outrage at these continued transgressions! We are proud to be black, and that shouldn’t mean we might just die to coexist with you.

We experience, we teach, we grow.

Eli Russell,
Austin, TX.

As a writer, these six words are something I’ve said before. I lend it here to hopefully add to the growing conversation, to close the divide in the races, to open racist minds and to unite all Americans, all people across the world in peace. It is up to each generation to take our experiences, teach our children the history and where they come from, so that future generations can learn from our mistakes and do better. We must do these things for a better future for our children and their children. There need never be another Charleston. There need never be another Ferguson. It is imperative to keep the conversation going to keep the past from repeating itself. There’s another 6 words. “History doesn’t have to repeat itself.” It’s so hard for me to watch all the news coverage on these racially divided and chaotic events. Not just because it is so painful, because it is. It’s so profoundly, soul-shatteringly heartbreaking. But it’s hard for me to watch because it’s uncomfortable. As a half Caucasian, half black woman who grew up in rural Texas, living with my white mother and my father out of the picture, “Black” history didn’t exist yet. This was in the 1990’s. There was only one type of history and black people had nothing to do with it after the abolishment of slavery. Or so I thought.

I still remember the first day I met the other black child who started coming to or school. It was like a starring contest. (We weren’t the right color to be friends with the white kids and we couldn’t speak Spanish so we were even shunned by the Hispanic children, who were also discriminated against, but could take solace in the insular nature of their culture and feel better about themselves by excluding me, and now “Tyson”.) We couldn’t believe our eyes. We were no longer alone in that predominantly white school. The same predominantly white school where my 1st grade teacher slapped me across the face and screamed the ‘N’ word at me. The only black history I was taught was passed to me from my Caucasian mother. But she couldn’t give me exact dates, all the battles fight and won on behalf of The Civil Rights Movement. Even if I did think my mother was the smartest person in the world and had all the answers when I was six years old, it turns out she didn’t. This is why it’s so important to me to learn what I should have learned about my heritage and history. I want to add that to what I experience in my life, to teach my children and their children so that future generations don’t have to live through the past repeating itself. They can learn from our mistakes and actively help to grow our society. My partner Scott (who is British and Caucasian) are both very much human rights advocates and activists. We want to teach our children to question everything, to live life with a purpose and to love all of humanity as though they were blood relatives. So six words- “We experience, we teach, we grow.”

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