MY OWN REVOLUTION

This blog will be dedicated to one thing only, and that is to speak my mind on whatever race related topic I feel the need to address. The blog is simply a way for me to get things off my chest. Lately, I’ve had too much on my mind, good, bad, and indifferent, but nowhere to let out all this steam, well almost nowhere. I’m a sociologist at heart, so most of my daily interactions, thoughts, and scenarios will come from a sociological perspective. I named my blog my own revolution because I often think that’s what needs to happen in order to see real change in society. But where are my revolutionaries, where are the Luther Kings, the Malcolm Xs of today, the Fred Hamptons, people that really care about what happens in our communities, people who are aware of the oppression we are still under, and this is not just the brothers and sisters only, it goes beyond that. In the midst of an election year, I see no hope in sight for real change from this bullshit we have to put with today. The war, our education system, our president and who he represents, the fact that racism is still alive, and how it attempts to still keep us oppressed through unfair disadvantages, laws that are designed to keep us in prison and further cut us off from mainstream society. This is the kind of stuff keeping me awake these days, it isn’t anything new, but a lot of us are just sleeping through this. Who’s speaking for us? Really, who is?
I was born in Brooklyn, New York, and I was partially raised in Carolina P.R. where I lived for about 10 years. My story begins back in Brooklyn where I was given up for adoption at birth. My father was African-American and my mother was of Asian descent; the result of this mixture was an orphan child, not wanted by his birth mother, probably because I was too dark, it’s my best guess considering the polarity that even to this day exists between these two races. As for my father, I don’t really know what the deal was with him, don’t know if he had another family, or if he was in prison at the time, that’s anybody’s guess, but that’s a complete separate subject, I’ll have to post some solely dedicated to that.

I grew up as a Puerto Rican even though I was clearly darker than the rest of my family. Don’t get me wrong now, I’m not saying there aren’t any dark Puerto Ricans, in fact, as part of the African Diaspora, P.R. has a significant amount of African ancestry as does the rest of the Caribbean, Central and South America. Anyways, my point is that I was the darkest of the family, and you could clearly see that I had no resemblance to my family at all. Growing up I always thought that there was a difference in being black and being a dark complexioned Puerto Rican. Sure, there are cultural differences and what not, but what else is different? Absolutely nothing. I’ve come to believe that part of my reasoning was by design, perhaps my mother (the adoptive one, and the only one I will always call madre) was trying to protect me from some of the things she had witnessed in her younger days. See there was such a time where being African American was categorically unacceptable in many social circles and arenas such as sports, but if you were Roberto Clemente, you weren’t as bad as being a plain ole nigger, you were Latino, feel me? I always knew there was something different about me. See, in Puerto Rico racism is not as noticeable, put it’s still alive and well.

I’ve heard many Puerto Ricans say that racism is non-existent in the island, not so. I can tell you from personal experience it’s there. The number one thing I am asked when people, regardless of nationality, find out I have Hispanic roots is: Are you Dominican? Why is that? Because of my proximity to the Haitian color? As if there where no black people in Puerto Rico, only in D.R.. This image has been created both by people living in the island, as well as second and third generation Puerto Ricans living throughout the United States. The fact is, you can find any type of blend in the island, you’ll have some that look more native, some more Spanish, and some straight out of Africa, all three races and cultures have been blending for over 500 years. As a kid, it was very common for a family member, a loving teacher, or even a friend to refer to me as “negrito”, in English that translates into little black boy, sounds harsh, doesn’t it. But in Puerto Rico negrito or negrita are actually terms of endearment. Is it really? This is true for most of the Caribbean, Central, and South America. The only two influential black figures that I remember distinctively from my Latin childhood were the composer Rafael Hernandez, and baseball legend Roberto Clemente, but I never saw the black character in the novella be the good guy, or the smart one, never but maybe once in a leading role. Now when it comes to comedy, black Latin images are in abundance, even in comic books such as “Memin”, which was a comic book about a little black boy, depicted much like little black sambo, or even famous local actors like Angela Meyer playing characters very much like Aunt Jemaima. All in good fun, right? Shit, they had me thinking all this was normal. Max Weber once said that a series of ritualized norms lived in over time, become natural. So even though I was taught not to react to racism, there were always certain reminders that would keep me in check so that ultimately I would still know I was different. Let’s see, there was always that odd look I would get when seen with my mother in public; she was way lighter than me, strong Spanish features, they never guessed she was my mother, no way, how could that be? One of the most vivid memories I have on race as a kid was a confrontation I had with an older cousin of mine, in the heat of the argument she blabbered out of her mouth “negro sucio”, yeah, she called me a dirty nigger; that happened some 20 years ago, but I’ve never been able to forget the amount of hate that was expressed with those words.
I still believed there was a difference between black and brown, until I got back to the main land in 1990. After a few months back in the states, I lost my Spanish accent, and I noticed nobody ever guessed I was Puerto Rican or anything like that; black people would call me brother and any Latinos I would run into would speak Spanish around me because they thought I didn’t understand or speak the language. So here in Florida I began to make real connections with my own people. I began to immerse myself into a whole new world I had been alienated from up this point. While I began to understand how African Americans were treated in this country, I also saw how in some instances playing the Latino race card could sometimes benefit me, especially in FL. Now, at the end of the day it all becomes a struggle for power between them and us, all of us, blacks, browns, yellow, you name it.

We are all positioned systematically to play a specific role in the grand scheme of things. The socially constructed notion of race becomes real to all of us, to those who never in their lives have to deal with somebody who looks like me, and so very real to those of us who have to follow some norm of assimilation, for those of us who wow any European American when he or she hears us talking like them and interacting in a way they feel comfortable with. Parrots can also mimic people too, and very well I might add. So what are they really impressed with when I speak “white”? What are they really saying? That my intelligence can only be measured by the extent I can sound, walk, and act white? Never mind the four year degree I have adorning my wall. And I’m not just making stuff up here. I can now say that I’m proud to be African American. I’ve experienced blackness in the most beautiful ways, but also in the most demoralizing and insulting ways.

African Americans are 4 times more likely to be unemployed at all education levels. To learn about statistics like this one in college can be very impressionable, put to see it with your own eyes really puts things into perspective. I experienced some of this with an employer who denied me the opportunity to advance into management without any convincing excuse or reason. Why did I not get the chance? The picture we are all sold on is that a college education is the key to success in the workplace, get a degree and the sky’s the limit. Just with that one condition, you manage to cut off over 60% of the black population from competing since that’s the percentage of kids that never make it out of high school. So one day you show up to your job and tell Mr. Bossman that you did, you got a degree. “Can I get a real job now?” But the Bossman says to you that “the timing is just not right” or whatever the heck he wants to say so as to not to let you in. Hmm, the truth of the matter is that many people do get the opportunity to advance into stable positions, many times without any significant qualifications, only they didn’t have to sacrifice their families on the weekends, or work twice as hard just to get noticed. You know what I’m talking about? I’m sure some of you do. I gotta leave that one alone, no more specifics. Kanye said it best, “nothing’s ever promised tomorrow, today”.

This is why “my own revolution” was started. I know I’m not alone in this struggle, in this daily mission, the need to hustle, the need to make a change, the need for a revolution. So I want to put the word out there, if there’s a way to pimp the system out, I want to let it out, and I’m not necessarily talking about illegal activity as defined by our laws, but we can still pimp this mother out for all it’s worth. You see, our government more often than not fails to allocate funds for the needs of our communities, yet the bulk of the taxes collected to run our government comes from middle and low income families. How’s that for pimping? There are other instances where help is available, yet our government does such a crappy job in getting the right information to the people who need it. That’s not a mistake, come on now, but I’ll be dammed if we don’t take advantage of whatever we can get. Yeah they make it confusing sometimes, but that’s just part of the game. So many times I’ll be talking about stuff that’s near and dear to my heart, other times I’ll talk about current events, and other times I’ll be talking about stuff that straight up pisses me off, but also be on the look out for information that can benefit you directly or maybe someone you know. This is Each-1-Teach-1, welcome to “My Own Revolution”.