Black Skin

I am currently experiencing some intense shooting pain in my leg. It’s been like this since this I drank two big cups of coffee and ate two donuts. I stayed home today to work on my grad school application and I can’t wait till this is all over. Things haven’t been relatively unorganized for me, since I’ve been focusing all of my energy in finishing up this task. I can’t wait for the return to normalcy. I wake up in the middle of the night thinking about edits I can do, and then I fall right back asleep and forget them in the morning. I want to be able to wake up, go to the gym, go to work, and then spend some time doing work for the organizations I volunteer with. I guess I must have grown pretty used to life after college and not worrying about assignments or tests. Power, however, is not gained without a struggle. I’d rather do something well, even if I have to temporarily sacrifice some things I like to do do, or not do it at all.

In having read just the first chapter of Black Skin White Masks, I was struck by Franz Fanon analysis on the power of language as it relates to Blacks (and minorities in general) and their/our use of it. Fanon argues that to effectively use language is to also tap into the culture, society, and world of its users. For the Antillean Blacks (the group he did his studies on), the use of “France’s French” as opposed to Creole, is demonstrative of an effort to assert their own humanity and more importantly, because to speak is to exist for others, sending out a message to Whites: I have the same mental capacity as you do, so don’t treat me otherwise. Good shit Fanon. Good shit.

Now that we’re on the race note, I’d like to bring up something. Growing up I was well aware of what I call, my racially ambiguous features. Like a chameleon it seemed that wherever I traveled to, I was able to blend in with the people I was surrounded by; In NYC I was Dominican, in DR I was Dominican, In Uganda I was Ugandan, in Egypt I was Egyptian, and so on and so forth. In LA however, many people assume that I am Black. This assumption naturally leads to specific behaviors; ones that I am seriously disturbed by. I feel that I have received second class treatment and attention because of this assumption. As a Latino minority, I know the feeling of going into a White owned establishment and having the feeling of being treated differently, so when I walk into a Latino owned place and feel that same time of oppressive air, I know it’s not because they think I’m Latino. It’s being at the bottom of the totem pole where White>Yellow>Brown>Black; the spectrum of color seems to correlate perfectly with the spectrum of discrimination. Absolutely disgusting. This idea is further supported by the fact that I’ve been keeping an eye on the interaction between the people living in the neighborhood (a neighborhood that is almost 100% Latino) and the Black guys in their 20s who just moved in (mind you -in my 5 months of living here I’ve NEVER seen Black people in my neighborhood). People stare and avoid them as if they were the plague and it pisses me the fuck off. The funny thing is one of the guys is Dominican. The reason this is funny is because when I walk into Latino owned stores and I feel the tension I previously mentioned, and then bust out my Spanish, I literally feel the relief of the pressure. It is the realization that I know Spanish, and their realization that I speak Spanish, which completely changes the situation and puts us on the same level. Because he is darker than me, I would have to assume that not only does he feel the oppression I’ve felt in my neighborhood, but he feels it more than I do. But I’m sure if he busted out his Spanish, people would not be so scared to approach him or to discriminate based off of the color of his skin. The fact that language can break those walls is interesting to say the least, but the fact that even has to be done in order to see someone who is a darker skin than you as your equal is more fucked up than I can say.

Frantz Fanon was most certainly a genius.