Fiercely Independent (for my mother)

For one of my classes, a memoir reading class taught by a totally badass professor, we read a book called Fierce Attachments by Vivian Gornick. Most of the people in my class didn't like the book because there wasn't a "story" but I enjoyed it because it was about the attachment (mostly volatile) that she has with her mother. While I don't have any large conflicts with my mother like this woman had, I realize more and more every day that I am becoming her.

The woman is 51 years old and just broke her elbow while taking a "brisk walk" with my father. She likes to remind people of this event and add that, "Exercise will kill you." But, what I noticed more than anything is that I don't think I've ever seen my mother so frustrated as when she had to ask me for help turning the ignition key in her car. She was pissed. She is fiercely independent, and she has led me to believe the same things.

What she's taught me:
You not only can do anything a man can do, but you can probably do it faster and better.
You can multitask- men cannot.
Only ask men for help when you need it- otherwise you simply look pathetic.
From when I was fourteen: "Men are like buses, if you wait around long enough another one will come by. So no need to worry."
Trim the fat of your life: you can't spend your life dealing with other people's problems. If that means you have to be the bitch in the relationship and leave, then leave.

My mom is the shit. And, I feel like she has made me a somewhat intimidating person. But, I'm over it.

Gornick's quote from her mother reminded me so much of mine: "When a woman can't tell a man to go to hell, I have noticed, she is often crazy."

I have to agree.

An Offering

I have had a bike with one wheel sitting outside my apartment on the tiny "patio" since I moved in. I've never been much of a bike-rider, and with Pullman's massive hills I question the safety of journeying on the bike due to my novice status in this area. The other wheel of this bike is in the locked storage closet outside, so I just assumed that no one would steal the bike. It's not like you can ride it away. And I was correct- no one ever rode the bike away. It was there for months and months, getting buried and un-buried with snow, always hangin out with the flattened cardboard boxes I used to move in with.
And then just a moment ago I looked out the window and it was gone. Just...gone.
I assumed it would always just still be underneath the cardboard boxes. One wheel is still there and I never noticed that a bike was not attached to it. So...no one took the wheels, just the body of the bike. I don't blame them. It's a nice body, and clearly I haven't ridden it ever. Instead of being upset, I have chosen to consider it an offering to someone who will get bike riding love out of it. Clearly I have not.
And now, I can look out my window without guilt that I'm not out riding my bike.

Back in the game: a bit apprehensive, but getting over it.

Hello all, I seem to be back in action. Mostly due to the fact that I remembered how much I enjoy writing even if no one reads any of it. While not the best writer in the world (like most of my other friends in the blogging-world), I do believe that I might be interesting to some people. And, if you don't see me on a regular basis for some reason or another, here I am. I'm waiting to hear from you. Also, maybe if you come visit me I'll buy you lunch. Either way, on with the musing of the day:

Brelin recently invited me to go to a concert with her in Portland. I was surprised for a moment when she failed to mention to me what band it was. Oh yes, friends, she wanted me to go to a RASCAL FLATTS concert. I puked in my mouth. I recoiled from my gut reaction and weighed my options: I would get to see Brelin, who I see maybe three times a year, BUT (and this is a big BUT) I would have to listen to a slightly overweight man sweaking out like Windex on a whorehouse window some supposedly uplifting song about his mother. Options weighed: not a chance in hell.

That, and the fact that there is no way in hell I would let Brelin drive to Portland by herself. That would be the worst sister move in the world.

So to sum up this anecdote, I think I'm with everyone when I declare that listening to Kool and the Gang's "Celebration" for 4 hours in a row is far better than any ONE Rascal Flatts song.

I'm back.

Monoliths

Yesterday morning I sat down for my usual hour of Ellen at 11 a.m. and was intrigued to see that Snoop Dogg was on the show with his 8 year olf daughter. Dressed in a sweet quasi-pimp suit of white, he danced with my girl Ellen and talked not about his new album all that much or the "game". He talked about how he can now breath easier now that his Little League Football team won their championship. Snoop Dogg- what a guy.
I was pondering this exchange and was taken aback for a moment- this same man who rapped "Drop it Like it's Hot" is super-dad for his three kids. In the media we hardly ever see these stories- the ones we do hear usually involve a shooting or some sort of brawl between those in the rap world. We don't hear about their families, we don't hear that they are coaching their kids football games- we just hear the negative stereotypes because those are what the media sells. Watching Snoop on Ellen made me think about the ways in which we keep stereotypes in the African American community, and how in Snoop's own life he goes against those. He is not the same guy he was 13 years ago, and he is not the vision of the "ghetto" community we expect from the rap game. He, like African American culture and all people, is not a monolith.
These monoliths, though, are everywhere we go because of categories we create for others. Gordon Allport in his landmark book The Nature of Prejudice discovered that categorization is the "natural propensity for prejudgment"- this is a natural occurence that "helps people to cope with life." We create categories, we put people in stereotypes like we do with Snoop because it's easier for us to brush them aside. Satirists like Paul Beatty subvert these stereotypes to show the falseness of our categories. Snoop is like Tuffy in that way- we expect him to be a certain way, a monolith of the "hip-hop culture" that embodies all the negativity that comes with it. But, Snoop is different, and so is Tuffy.
It is for this reason why Beatty is so powerful in his satire, and he continues to make us think- like Ellen- about the things below the surface that embodies what it means to be African American. The black canon, satire, hip-hop culture, and people all around are not just one thing. They cannot be put into a box, nor can the experience of an African American- or Snoop.

Limited Mobility

It has been quite a while since my last update due to Thanksgiving Break, but during that time of respite and pie I was able to indulge in reading Tuff. At first it took me a while to truly understand the satirical nature of the novel, but once I did I was in for a lot of laughs, a lot of oh-shit-I-shouldn't-be-laughings, and some introspection regarding the ways in which the Black community is seen as a whole. Our other novels focused on the parts of African American culture that we fail to see, but in this novel Paul Beatty hits the reader over the head right away with the scenes we're familiar with. One of the aspects of his satire that I found most profound was the way space was explored to illuminate the true society of East Harlem.
As opposed to the other novels, the scenes in this book are usually all in the same place- in Tuffy's house, front stoop, or on the block with his friends. It's like the ghetto setting of Cheers- everybody knows your name and doesn't give a rat's ass about you either. You're either in a group or your not, and the same goes for Tuffy. The people on his block might have grown up right next to him, but for one reason or another they are not taken to be worthy of his respect. One of the scenes where this is made most apparent is with the Bonilla brothers, the sure-fire caricatures of do-nothing cops who believe their authority is purely in their badge. As Tuffy quickly discards them and their dog Der Kommisar, it becomes apparent that if you're not in with Tuffy, you're not in at all.
Tuffy and his crew seem isolated from the rest of the greater community, a theme present in most African American fiction, but they don't seem to mind it. Beatty knows that most novels' characters are tired of their situation and want to change their isolated existence in for something of success- for Tuffy's crew there's just no use. When the reader sees characters like Tuffy and Fariq wanting to work inside their own world of pain, it dawns on them that this is no longer a joke- this is reality. Beatty's saying that there could be a thousand LBJ's that want to change the way America treats the poor people of color, but if those stuck in the situation are comfortable in their lives, they'll stay there.
And that's not to say that Beatty wants to start a revolution either- for he also shows the "draft-dodging- dashiki-wearing brown-car-driving leather-trenchcoat-in-the-summer-sportin' stuck-on-stupid-played-out-1970s reject motherfuckers" (109), epitomized in Tuffy's father Clifford. The Black Nationalism shown in these caricatures is something that it satirized to the ridiculous as well, shown to be both stale and out of touch with the real problems of the ghetto. They're stuck not in a neighborhood, but in an era.
What happens between both of these scenarios is that there is limited mobility in their situation- both self-induced and society-induced. Beatty uses space in this way to confirm the things that we know about society already, as well as the isolation of space that all people in Tuffy's world inhabit. Beatty's satire of the archetypes of common black characters brings to light the fact that they're all stuck in a space not meant for them- and the will always have limited mobility in that space.

I wish I liked it

At the end of Octavia Butler's book, the first thought, after of course relief, was, "I really wish I liked that book." I wanted to like the book, I really did.
What tripped my up in my enjoyment of the book was the language. For some people, the reason why they connected so well with the writing style was through the accessibility of the langauge, but I found it to be too simplistic and honestly a little adolescent for my taste. Going into a novel I want to be linguistically wowed, inspired to write better in my own life. And Butler for me came up a bit short, especially in the dialogue between Shori and her symbionts. The phrasing didn't pop for me, and the word choice fell a little flat. I guess my cup of tea is a little more Jones-esque, even though at times some people think they're wading in the language. To me, one of the reasons why I enjoy reading is to unpack the language- it's a challenge that I like to tackle.
While I didn't particularly enjoy the way in which the book was written, I can see the ways in which Shori's experience can be extrapolated to a greater African-American experience. At the end of the book, as the diaspora of the Silk family is punishment for the crimes against Shori's maternal and paternal families the parallels with African Americans is clear. The reason why the book connects so well to these issues is because the themes of loss, isolation, and self-definition are made apparent in a strong way. This book has the ability to reach audiences that normally would not come into contact with typical African American themes, and I have to applaud Octavia Butler on that acheivement. Because the genre in which she writes is even more dominated by white males, she truly is one of the only African American voices heard by many readers.
I was less than pleased with my overall enjoyment of the book, but I can't expect to like every single book I read. To be fair, there are just some books for some people, and I can appreciate the themes the book explores. I just didn't feel blown away, but that's alright.

Why Sci-Fi?

When one thinks about African American literature, it is rare that science fiction would be part of the equation. But, if you look at Octavia Butler's Fledgling, it becomes more and more apparent why this genre can be very telling of the African American experience in America. More than anything, the conditions in which Shori's story unfolds can be paralleled with some experiences for the African American community as well as all humans. Using the classic sci-fi elements of utopia/dystopia, as well as the idea of the unknown, many parts of Shori's situation can be seen in America as well. We in this country yearn for a place where we can be surrounded by those that understand us like the Ina understand Shori, and when we see that community as one of acceptance readers want that life to be reflected somehow in this world. But, just like the Ina most of our existence is controlled by fear of someone in greater power taking our livelihood away, just as Shori's family has be systematically destroyed by outsiders. Outsiders come in and destroy many parts of us in all facets of life, as seen in the African American diasporic experience. But, the way in which all humans survive is on one another- through relationships with those that understand you most.
One of the most enticing elements of Butler's story is the idea of "mutualism," the way in which Shori survives, and in many ways the way in which all humans survive. Having a symbiotic relationship between a human at the start, like Wright, eventually changes his aging process so much that he will live forever. One of Iosef's symbiants, Brook, has been changed so much by her relationship with him that she will soon not be able to go back to her real family because she doesn't age at the same rate as humans do. Like Shori, she will eventually live to be hundreds of years old and still look young. This seems like a perk for many women in this age, who are always looking for a cure to aging, but to these symbiants "feedings" are not something that they choose to do on a whim- they have to have the venom of their Ina in order to survive. A chilling reminder to humans to be wary of those feelings and emotions that seem too good to be true. While being in relationship with others is an obvious necessary part of life, these relationships can sometimes turn out to be toxic and addictive, which is what these symbiants feel right now.
These symbiants are representative of many humans because while they enjoy the feedings at first, they are eventually broken down so much that they can't imagine their life without their Ina. They yearn for them like many "adrenaline junkies" of the real world yearn for the next rush. These humans at first like Wright want to continue over and over to have these feedings, not knowing or caring about the harm that it might be doing to themselves. The human symbiants have crossed over to the other side, and will never regain their human physical system again in the same way. In the African American community, this good relationship turned bad is one that is seen in many other novels in different fashions such as this. The black man feels the exhiliration of acceptance in the white world in a business community and wants to keep pleasing his white job, "the man" by doing what he is supposed to. Eventually the man gets sucked into the system so much that he denies the essence of his "blackness" in this relationship that ultimately began with someone outside of himself choosing how he should act. Shori never asked Wright whether he wanted to be bitten by her, nor does the white man in power ask if the black man wants to be changed into a more degraded,whiter version of himself. Eventually these two consciousnesses collide and turn into a self-deprecating feeling- something that possibly these characters might feel. The relationships do have a symbiotic motive for both human and Ina, but it seems more like the Ina simply need these humans to survive, and their emotions get tacked on at a later date.
From this aspect of Fledgling in particular, the genre and theme of a symbiotic relationship can relate to the African American experience and the human experience overall. Just because the "white man" in this scenario might be a quasi-vampire doesn't meant the actions are not applicable to the experiences of humans. By examining in greater detail this relationship, it is both a celebration of a relationship that both parties want to be in, but it is also a warning against those relationships that will change people into "junkies" of any sort. The sci-fi element of different species is another tool for audiences to see that these themes can be taken into many different arenas. Yes, there are vampires; and yes, there are new species of beings. But, there is a greater message in the novel about who to trust, the enemies that always surround us, and the relationships that govern our existence. Even if some people might be addicted to vampire venom.