During a heated discussion recently at a blog I will not name (and thereby give hits to), I was called burnt out hippie chick, trailer trash, "nasty as Mammy," shit-kicking moron from Dogpatch, someone who quotes singing sluts and ignorant bitches (i.e. their term for a popular country-and-western singer), an inbred southerner, and my special favorite, nipple-rubbing herbalist. People like me, said the proud yankee, exist only to clean his toilets.
No one objected, being serious liberals and all.
And so, since I see from my stat-counter that a good lot of those brave, courageous liberals--intrepid fighters for truth and justice everywhere--have come over here snooping to see just how low-class I really am, I've decided to give you all the guided tour. At left, a photo from White Trash Parenting, an entry over at Stealth's blog. (Thanks Stealth!)
Enjoy! I know that's exactly what you're looking for!
Speaking of privilege and the damage it does to all of us (how's that for a civilized segue?) Sudy writes a brilliant, searing post titled A Bi-Racial, Bi-Cultural Pinay Sings Maybe about the fault lines in her own identity. Really fierce, honest testimony:
My parents did not come to this country to give their unborn children a better life. They came to this country to help their families who were alive and poor, sick and marginalized, stuck and helpless. My parents came to work to send their earnings home, to do better not for themselves but for their immediate families. Selfless, sacrificing, and urgent, my parents reaped the benefits of this country for others, never themselves.Homework assignment, read it all!
I was sixteen when I attended my parent's naturalization process. Uncertain as to why I was resistant to their American citizenship, I watched with sadness as they proclaimed their allegiance, but could never articulate exactly why. Their legal ties to the Philippines, on paper, were gone. A land I had never seen except through stories of poverty and heat, the Philippines cradled my parents' hearts and loyalties. Today, I see the reasoning as to why becoming a citizen was necessary for them, but the ceremony rang false to me. I kept questioning the logic, "Why not let patriotism be reflected through human service, merit, decency, and dedication, rather than history tests and ceremonies? Why ask my parents to essentially choose between birthplace and home?" It did and continues to seem like such an unjust choice.
My parents were in constant flux in how to let their children be Filipino-American. Only now I can appreciate how difficult it must be to pass traditions along to your children in a completely unfamiliar environment and then watch it simply be considered and sometimes disregarded. The sound of cultures clashing arrives in the form of unasnwerable questions. Is dating in the US better because we have freer sex with less guilt and more condoms? Is American Catholicism better than Filpino spirituality that celebrates family prayer, tradition, and rosaries? Is it better that college students in the US typically blow off their undergraduate experience in favor of beer, experimentation, and spring break roadtrips? Do I lead a "better" life than my parents?
Again with the Comics shares with us the wisdom of Ask Golden Age Wonder Woman, a sort of Penthouse Forum/Dr Drew for Comics fans. Questions about sexuality are answered with actual panels from old Wonder Woman comic books. Example at left.
Such wisdom in comics, yet to be unearthed!
Coming up this week, full coverage of the South Carolina Democratic Primary!
Listening to: Lou Reed - Street Hassle