Tag Archives: love

For My Friends – Darnise

“Mowg doesn’t have a race….”

We were at her house for a study session, and discussing racism and some of the various issues inherent with it, her, her husband, and I. I am painfully aware that most racism just stems from ignorance….people don’t really WANT to be racists…they just don’t have enough friends of any particular race so they make assumptions. Or maybe they’re part of a “privileged” race so the problems that other races experience just never occur to them. That’s not hateful or anything. It’s just ignorance. I’m aware that I’m ignorant.  I try really hard to expose myself to many things…not specifically because of racism, but because there are so many ways to see the world and I want to know everything, even if that’s not possible. I want to know what it’s like to be a man, to be a woman, to be a black man, a white man, a latino man, a black woman, a white woman, a latino woman, a gay person, a trans person, a rich person a poor person a homeless person. My life has been enriched because of all of these people. If I don’t try to understand their experiences, I feel like I’m taking from them in a vampiric kind of way. Like I don’t give them back the common courtesy of being their friend.

(I have the best homeless man story. ask me sometime over beer. It was just a very beautiful moment in my life.)  So anyway, after having this discussion with her and her husband, her husband asked me what I was. (I don’t remember if he used the word “race” or “ethnicity” or just the generic “where are you from?”) What I do remember is throwing up my hands and not knowing what the simple answer is. Because my REAL answer is, born hispanic american, raised white, hated my mother so I rejected my hispanic heritage, but I can’t change my color…and I was a latino kid, no question. So I got hit with most of the stupid racist stuff in the summer, but I passed for white in the winter. And I felt guilty about that because my friends were always getting hit with stupid racist stuff that I was managing to avoid, plus it’s a big hispanic taboo to “pass” and not be proud of your heritage. I’ve dated black, white, asian, and latino men, and I’ve picked up habits and language from all of them, and my friends too. Some have been politically active, which has increased my awareness of how ignorant I am.  But me…? I check off “hispanic” on the census. But I don’t know what the hell I am. I was trying to figure out how to say it in one sentence.  Darnise said, “Kathy doesn’t have a color,” and saved me from answering, and not because she was saving me. (Of course, I answered anyway.) But in doing so, she gave me what is possibly the highest compliment I’ve ever received in this area.  She said, “Your only race is Love….how can you assign a color to Love?”

I think about it sometimes when I feel unsure of myself.  I like it better that way. Not having a color. It gives me the opportunity to be loyal to everyone, and to just be human…which is pretty cool if we’re not shitty to each other. Thanks Darnise.

For my Friends – Drew

“Not even a ‘Hello?…you look good?…you look like shit…? nothing? She tried to take you away from *US*?!”

When my dad died, three people came to the funeral with me. That was Tee, Drew, and Rob. At that point, I hadn’t spoken to my mother for a few years, hadn’t seen her, and was really happy that way. I knew she’d be at the funeral, and I asked for some moral support. Tee said, “Sure! I always wanted to know what the face of evil looks like!” So we went.

So I’m standing there, in the pew with Rob, Drew and Tee, trying to mind my own business and not be noticed, when my mother sees me and walks back to me, annoyed as hell by the walk, and grits through her teeth and says, “would you at LEAST come sit with the FAMILY!” I looked at her like she was crazy (she was) and I said, “I’m WITH my family.” She left me alone.

Drew looked at me and said, “that’s it? That’s how she starts the conversation? Not even a ‘nice to see you?’ And her first act is to try to separate you from US?!? If it wasn’t your mom and a funeral, I would have told her off right there!”

Right on, little brother. Because if he hadn’t said that, I wouldn’t even have noticed it. I’m so used to the dysfunctional pattern that I didn’t notice that she didn’t say hello.

But I sure as shit noticed it five years later when she was in the hospital. I hadn’t spoken to her for another five years, and when I walked in her first words were to order me around, and demand to know what I did to her car. “Do you know,” I said, “that you haven’t even said hello to me?”

Funny, that. It was the first REAL conversation we had had in about a decade. It didn’t go much further than that, either because she was still being evil to me. But at least I knew enough to ask to be treated with dignity, hospital or no.

Thanks, Drew.