Category: America

playing bricklayers

For more about the lucrative business of having well-meaning Western young adults volunteer in 3rd world countries, also known as voluntourism, here is a piece that talks, among other things, about what happens when non-professionals get to play bricklayers. And, here is one that (possibly coins, but at least) brilliantly explains the concept of voluntourism. Both of these stories were sent to me by students, themselves smack in middle of the target group for organizations that offer ‘volunteering’ experiences.

american whiteness

120915085336-jolie-syria-01-horizontal-gallery

Here is a fun read that came to me through Facebook: The Four Cutest Ways To Photograph Yourself Hugging Third-World Children. Number 3: While wearing traditional native garb, is my personal favorite. Angelina Jolie comes to mind, obviously. You can see her moving in on a little girl above.

I’m sure lots of people would disagree with me, but I do think white women’s tendency to wear traditional garb when traveling has to do with white people’s need to be somebody. In a society that takes whiteness for granted, white people often feel invisible. As if they were the only ones without culture, they have to seek out the cultures of others to get some sense of belonging.

All of this is backwards, of course, since whiteness in itself is a ticket to the ultimate belonging, the comfort that comes with being seen as ‘normal’. But, the first sign of privilege is that you are blind to it when you have it.

Some years ago I had a student, a white young man at the predominantly white Catholic campus where I teach. His name wasn’t Patrick O’Brien, but it could have been. In one discussion he told the class that, “Had I been Mexican, my life would have been easier.” The difficulty he experienced in his life was exactly what I talk about above. He felt that he didn’t know who he was.

Maybe at this point I should repeat the basic facts: A white young man, native speaker of American English, in college on a predominantly white campus founded on the religious principles shared by his own family, had a feeling of not knowing who he was in the world. He imagined that if instead he had been Hector Gonzalez, and his skin had been brown, his speech accented, he would have known his own identity.

Culture belongs to ‘the other’. Identity belongs to the brown, the gay, maybe to the women.

Another white young man wrote in an essay last quarter something along the lines of “seeing your own life played out in the media over and over again is addicting”. He was talking about a baseball movie he had seen as a child, that had featured kids that could have been any one of his friends, or himself.

Understanding that hegemony is addicting is a huge step forward from thinking that you don’t have an identity when you are white. Maybe there is hope, after all.

a feminist

I was sitting in the waiting room at the oncologist’s, when a young kid, a teenager, came in with what I assumed to be his girlfriend. The kid talked about x-rays of his lungs with the admins, so it seemed he was the patient. They went to sit across the room from me and I couldn’t hear their every word, but it was clear the young woman had had a discussion about feminism in class today.

“Feminists don’t hate men,” she said. “Man-haters are called misandrists.”

She said they had looked up the definition of a feminist, and learned that a feminist is a person who supports equal rights, and equality in pay and opportunities. Her boyfriend said that he thought those things were no-brainers. “Then you’re a feminist!”, she said.

This is where I couldn’t quite hear his response. But clearly he didn’t like the word feminist, or the idea that he was one.

Too bad, kid. You were doing so good. I have a feeling that 18 year old girlfriend won’t be giving up anytime soon, tho.

public service announcement

Cinco de Mayo (May 5th) is not the Mexican independence day. Encyclopedia Britannica tells you that Cinco de Mayo is also known as the Anniversary of the Battle of Puebla, and is “a national holiday in Mexico in honor of a military victory in 1862 over the French forces of Napoleon III.”

They continue: “On May 5, 1862, a poorly equipped mestizo and Zapotec force under the command of Gen. Ignacio Zaragoza defeated French troops at the Battle of Puebla, southeast of Mexico City; about 1,000 French troops were killed. Although the fighting continued and the French were not driven out for another five years, the victory at Puebla became a symbol of Mexican resistance to foreign domination.” 

And: “The day is celebrated in Mexico, especially in Puebla, with parades and speeches. In some cities there are reenactments of the Battle of Puebla. Cinco de Mayo has also become a festive holiday in parts of the United States with large Mexican American populations, including many cities of the Southwest. Celebrations in the United States often extend beyond the actual day to encompass an entire week, with parades and festivals that include music, dancing, and food.”

Mexico celebrates its independence from Spanish rule on September 16.

you can dream

This is the front end of a 1939 Frazer Nash/BMW. The Blackhawk Museum in Danville houses truckloads of antique cars, and pretty much all the cars are fantastic. Some of them are beyond fantastic. There is one, from the 1920s, that is made from tulipwood. They seem to rotate the exhibits tho so the tulipwood one wasn’t on display yesterday when I was there.

I think what is fascinating with these cars is that they are so much about the dream of the future, and about the dream of traveling there. Cars from the 1930s look like space ships. They look fast, as if the future couldn’t get there quick enough. The romance of that is irresistible. A Toyota Prius? Dull, and practical. But does it really have to look dull and practical? There is a statement about our times in there, and it isn’t good.

There were two old guys walking around the exhibit yesterday, making conversation like 5 year old boys: “This one is mine!”. “No, I’ll go with the Packard.” Adorable.