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mysterywrappedinatightskirt · 6 years

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HOW I DISCOVERED I AM WHITE

This essay was written by renegademama (Janelle Hanchett) for her website RENEGADE MOTHERING

When I was 14 or so, I asked my grandmother why we didn’t have a “white club” at school. I don’t recall her response, but I do remember feeling particularly smug and vaguely angry that there was a “Latino” club and a “Chinese” club but not a “white” club.

Oh the unfairness! Oh the disparity! Why do we celebrate their heritage but not ours?

And I didn’t think about race again, at least not much, until I dated an African American man in college and a stranger whispered “nigger lover” in my ear one night as he walked by us in a grocery store. Disgusting.

I figured he was a strange exception of horrible racist creature. He was, after all, approximately 97 years old. (Well, 70, but he appeared 97 to my fresh young eyes.)

And then, a few months later, when my boyfriend’s roommate took me aside and asked why I have to “take a good black man who was in college,” when so many black men were incarcerated. I concluded she was crazy. And mean.

She hurt my feelings. Poor Janelle.

Beyond these few moments, and a couple others, I didn’t really think about race. Well, I thought about how people made arguments “about race” when clearly they were not. I mean why do they make race an issue? It’s obviously not.

Oh yeah, I had America all figured out: If ya work hard, you get ahead. And if you don’t get ahead, it’s because you made bad decisions. And if you get arrested it’s because you’re breaking the law, and people who break the law are more likely to be black. Obviously. That’s why they’re always getting arrested. (How’s that for some cyclic logic?)

I knew this to be true because:

America was awful to black people but that was fixed during the Civil Rights movement;

Therefore, we are all on equal footing now and if you don’t succeed it’s because you aren’t trying.

I learned it in school. It was fact. School teaches the truth.

And then, graduate school, and Professor Lee.

Oh, shit.

“Not all white people are white supremacists, but all white people benefit from white supremacy.”

WHAT THE WHAT?

She made us repeat it like a mantra. At least 3 times. I read Tim Wise’s White Like Me (I have mixed feelings about him now, but I digress) and bell hooks and David Roediger’s Wages of Whiteness and learned how our economic systems benefit from racism and we read about thehistory of American immigration laws (have you ever read them?) and colonialism in the Philippines and elsewhere (yes, America has colonies but we call them “territories”), and we read about redlining and white flight (ever wonder how black people ended up in urban centers?), and we read some DuBois and Omi & Winant and literature by people of color and all of the sudden I realized I had been fucking lied to.

I understood America through white eyes. I understood the world through the mainstream, polished glasses of a nice clean history of “we used to be bad now we’re not the end.”

Go team.

I discovered I was white.

“Not all white people are white supremacists, but all white people benefit from white supremacy.”

She wanted us to see that as individuals, not all white people are bigoted. But she also wanted us to see that every white person – whether they are bigoted or not – benefits from the racially structured hierarchies in America. They benefit from racism.

Yes. Even me. Even though I am not “racist.”

How? And she explained whiteness. She explained that “white” is the standard. White is the background against which difference is measured.

In other words, it’s “white” until further notice. It’s “white” until proven otherwise. It’s “white” or it’s the “other,” and it has nothing to do with actual numbers, percentages of “minority” population. It has to do with power. It has to do with the culture of power. What do I mean? If a comedy film features a white family, it’s a comedy. If it features a black family, it’s a blackcomedy.

Think about it.

White is the standard. And I’m white. Therefore, I am standard, and that benefits me.

When I walk into a room, I don’t fear that I’m representing my whole race. I have never acted badly then thought to myself “Oh shit, I sure hope they don’t hate all white people now.”

Or, in other words, even though pretty much every Columbine-type-school-kid-murderer is white, I’ve never developed a distrust for white, socially awkward high school kids.

A few do not represent the whole.

“Privilege is passed on through history.”

Whatever. I grew up POOR!

But then I thought about how, in the late 1940s, my grandmother was the first woman editor of the University of Washington’s newspaper. After she graduated, she and my grandpa bought and ran small newspapers in northern California. The family business they built employed my family members for 40+ years.

In the late 1940s, black people were not allowed to sit in the front of the bus.

How can I deny that my grandparents’ access to education and economic success did not materially affect me in a positive way, directly, through my father? I thought about the loans my parents were able to take with financial backing from my grandparents, and how that benefitted me. My life. My quality of life. The neighborhoods we lived in. The schools we attended. My cultural knowledge.

“Why don’t we have ‘White History Month?’”

Because White History Month is every month other than February, asshole.

Oh, shit indeed.

“The culture of power determines which version of history is told and retold.”

Prior to the Women’s Rights Movement, women were stuck in the home while men went to work and supported them. But then women were liberated and able to get jobs working outside the home.

Right?

WRONG. White, middle to upper class women were “stuck in the home.” Women of color have ALWAYS “worked out of the home.” In fact, the women of color were probably working in the homes of the white women about which our history is written.

So one of the most oft-repeated, trusted narratives about American history erases the history of women of color. It is dead fucking wrong. It isn’t even kind of right. They are erased. Non-existent. Unseen.

They are Chapter 10. They are a chapter that ends with “but then Martin Luther King, Jr., and all is well.”

They are Chapter 10. I am chapters 1 through forever, and every day I cash in on that fact, whether or not I support the systems making that happen for me.

I realized the reason I had never thought about race was because I was of the privileged one, because I didn’t have to, NOT BECAUSE RACIAL DISPARITY DIDN’T EXIST. I didn’t have to think about race because I was having a fundamentally different life experience than people of color. But I could ignore them, because of my privilege.

I was able to hang out in meltin-pot, “post-racial” land was because the structures of that society allowed (and encouraged) me to “not see race” while continually feeding me narratives about “equality,” “multiculturalism,” “color-blindness” and “ghetto urban lifestyles.”

I spent a lot of time in graduate school in the library, writing at a computer. Like, hours. Whole days. When I had to pee, I would ask the person sitting next to me to watch my stuff so I didn’t have to pack it all up and carry it down the hall to the bathroom. I did it a 100 times.

Once I looked over at the person next to me and my first thought was “Oh you can’t ask him. He’ll steal your stuff.

He was a young black man wearing a gray hooded sweatshirt.

I was sickened at myself. I was horrified at my response. There was absolutely nothing different about him than the 100 other people I didn’t hesitate to ask, except he was black.

I realized that not only do I benefit historically and presently, every day, from the color of skin, I have also internalized cultural narratives regarding blacks and whites that manifest whether or not I support them.

“Hey, would you mind watching my stuff for a minute?”

But what now?

Does it mean my grandmother’s accomplishments are less badass? Nope. Does it mean I do not “deserve” success? Nope. Does it mean that I am a bad person? Nope.

It means that we live in a highly racialized society rooted in a history of discrimination and that we have a long way to go. It means that I have had an advantage over people of color. Yes, always. Yes, no matter what. Because even if you’re poor and white you can join the culture of power by learning the walk and talk. But you can’t change your skin color.

From the day I was first introduced to this “other story,” I couldn’t get enough. Not because I’m some sort of saint or conspiracy theorist, but because I was curious. I was interested out of a sense of shared humanity. And I was fucking angry that I had been swindled. I wanted the truth. Or, I wanted a fuller picture. I wanted more sides.

That, my friends, is pathetic in its privilege.

I learned in graduate school what every person of color knows through life experience. I learned in graduate school that we weren’t “fixed” during the Civil Rights movement.

But when this information was presented to me I felt a sense of relief, because I think deep down I always knew something was terribly wrong, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

I don’t understand the white rage I keep reading on the internet.

Just another dead thug.

He got what he deserved.

Run over the protestors. They’re making me late for work.

STOP PLAYING THE “RACE CARD.”

I don’t understand it. What’s at stake, people? What’s at stake in accepting that racism exists? Or even entertaining the thought? Are people really so stupid they can’t fathom that other people might be having a different experience than they are? Is it really that hard to comprehend that something can exist EVEN THOUGH YOU DON’T PERSONALLY SEE IT?

(Although you’ll see your privilege if you’re willing to examine your life honestly.)

Why the hell are people so unwilling to listen?

Let’s think about this for a moment. A whole community of people are saying this exists. Data shows racial disparities in economic, education, justice, and healthcare systems. Basically, ALL OVER THE PLACE. Unarmed black boys and men are killed without recourse. Repeatedly. The comment sections of these crimes are riddled with assholes shouting “Good. One less loser.”

But people still claim “Racism doesn’t exist.” But here’s the thing: The only way you can discount the words, lives, efforts and voices of hundreds of thousands of people is THROUGH THE RACISM YOU CLAIM DOESN’T EXIST.

You can only ignore them if they’re aren’t worth hearing.

You can only ignore them if they’re liars. If they’re just looking for a handout.

If they’re not human like you.

You can only ignore them by using the very narratives you claim aren’t happening.

And let’s be honest, we can only ignore them because it’s easy, because we’ll never have to walk a day in their shoes, and it’s just so much more pleasant to turn away, look away, focus back on our lives.

But the sand is getting skimpy and our heads are showing. At this point, if we’re not part of the solution we’re part of the problem.

I’m using my voice to talk to you. I’m using my voice to talk to my kids. But it isn’t enough. We’re looking for places to volunteer. I’m looking for actions I can take.

We’re at a crossroads. This cannot go on. We’re crushed under the weight of hatred, history, silence, violence, bullshit media and the insidious defense of systematic unequal distribution of resources, and at some point, none of us will be able to breathe.

It feels small and pathetic to be one person in this mess. I feel stupid and vulnerable and slightly insane to be writing this here, now. But fuck my feelings. Fuck feeling uncomfortable. Fuck the nonsense that keeps us quiet and content and cozy in our little post-racial dreamland.

They can’t breathe, and I’m breathing just fine.

And that is precisely the problem.

Email the author: [email protected]

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mysterywrappedinatightskirt · 6 years

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This is so heartbreaking and beautiful ♥️

yoongi is a tragedy.

the type of tragedy that makes you drop to your knees and want to scream because why, why, why is the world so unfair. he’s the kind of thing that makes you want to give your happiness for him.

because that’s exactly what he does. taehyung watches him burn, watches the smoke roiling up from his lips as yoongi gives people what they want. a mortal born with the power to control fire, a beast even the most intelligent of humans cannot control. yoongi just conjures it up when he wants. he’ll give fire to the people of the village to cook their meals and to those who simply want it. during cold nights, he’ll lose sleep to keep the fire that warms taehyung awake.

fire is something people are greedy for, especially when it’s served a silver platter. but with every flame that blossoms from yoongi’s fingertips comes another time taehyung can only see stone as he looks at yoongi.

“i’ll love you no matter what,” yoongi wheezes, black smoke spilling into taehyung’s mouth.

taehyung kisses yoongi’s chapped lips, smiling sadly. “i’ll love you,” even after the hourglass has emptied, “forever.”

the fire burns brightly, just as it does everyday.

“it’s difficult, taehyung.” with shaky hands, yoongi picks flowers. “it’s so difficult. i can’t feel anything anymore. my fingers are burnt and my lungs in ashes. when i leave, who will bring you warmth?”

taehyung strums away on the instrument he got from one of yoongi’s favorite people. he closes his eyes, fingers creating the melody of a song long forgotten. “you won’t die,” he lies. he bites his tongue to keep himself from gagging at his own blatant fibs. he sees the way even yoongi’s face sours.

“… i have blankets…”

yoongi nods and closes his eyes, for what taehyung knows brings a night of keeping the fire lit.

“i really love you,” he says before let himself be dragged into sleep.

taehyung can only exhale and lean his head back when he wakes up and the fire burns no longer, tears gathering at his eyes.

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mysterywrappedinatightskirt · 6 years

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Haiii, it's me again. I was wondering, and please don't mind me, I'm weird like this, are there any taegimin (TaehyungxYoongsxJimin) fics that you could recommend? I've read a few but I wanna know if there's more and I suck at finding fics for myself. Everything is read is from here so you all are lifesavers. Thank you so much for your hard work!!

Hello! Don’t worry it’s not weird at all! I’m glad this blog can help you and thank you! That’s means a lot to me 💞💞💞

Soliloquy by pandorasumbrella

“It’s Jimin I’m in love with, hyung,” Taehyung says, pressing Yoongi a little harder against the wall. He drags his thumbs over his lip, slowly, measured, thinking he wants to have it swell under his own. “Don’t misunderstand.”

WHO IS JIMIN’S MYSTERY BF!! by pansexuall

mini: oh god

mini: oh no oh god oh please no

mini: PLWASE NOBODY READ THAT NOBODY SCROLL UP PLEASE

mint yoongi: did you seriously just sext the groupchat

mini: EJHAJNF NOT ON PURPRSE

In which Jimin accidentally sends a sext to the groupchat, chaos ensues, and a group of very determined boys trys to figure out who exactly that text was meant for.

Up We Go by Oh_Hey_Tae

“If you’re a witch that works with plants, then why are all of yours dead? That can’t be good for business.”

The room dims again, and Jimin lifts a hand to flip off the ceiling. Taehyung knows he’s sad and that’s why the shop darkens and he shouldn’t find it funny—but he can’t help it. Because this is ridiculous. The good kind of ridiculous. The amazing kind.

(In which Taehyung has a green thumb, Jimin runs a magical store, and Yoongi can kind of see dead people.)

Unmagical Moonlight by AlixSkyeDawg

The door closed.

Taehyung was struck by the reverberation of it and wondered just how many more doors had to be closed and him left behind before he was the one leaving.

Taehyung keeps searching for magic in the moonlight. It takes him a long time to finally find it.

Bad baby, Good baby by shittyshipper

Jimin sighs, calms himself down and runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “What do you want, Taehyung. Use your words.” He doesn’t sound as sweet as he normally does but his anger and the little bit of sleep he got are the only things keeping him up right now and letting go of either of those seems like a very bad idea. He’ll make it up to Taehyung when he’s back to being good. Bad babies need to know they can’t behave anyway they want either way, he’s not going to let Taehyung off easy just because he’s cute. He’s a strict caregiver and Taehyung needs to know that. Good baby boys get rewards, bad baby boys get punished. That’s just the way it is.

Taehyung has been stuck in little space for longer than usual and though Jimin and Yoongi are worried, it’s starting to take a toll on them too.

Ember by hipsterminseok

“You’re not supposed to smoke here.”

An airy voice tickled at Yoongi’s earlobes. Yoongi closed his eyes, allowing the pleasant lightness to dance in his ears. For a moment, Yoongi felt grounded in a peace that he had previously thought that he could only have with Taehyung at his side.

The airy voice cleared its throat and repeated itself. “Excuse me? Sir? You’re not supposed to smoke here. It’s against the law.”

Min Yoongi and Kim Taehyung are dragon spirits, bonded together in both soul and form. Park Jimin is an unsuspecting human, drawn to fight the injustices of the world. Together, the power of three can create passion, friendship, and a love deeper and more pure than anything the trio have ever known.

That is, if the three can manage to be something more than just a crowd.

Don’t forget to leave Kudos and Comments

- M

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mysterywrappedinatightskirt · 6 years

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can we stop saying that words like dumb and stupid are ableist slurs or ableist language please I’m autistic and that’s just… not what the fuck a slur is bye

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mysterywrappedinatightskirt · 6 years

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[PLEASE KEEP ANONYMOUS BC I DON’T WANT TO BE FIRED]

I’m a bra fitter in the UK. Won’t name the store, but it’s one that’s internationally popular so occasionally we get people from abroad coming in to bulk-buy English bras because they fit better and are cheaper.

A few months ago a German woman, who didn’t speak any English, came in for a fitting with her two daughters to translate for her. What she didn’t know was that I speak near-fluent German because I used to work in Bochum as a primary school teacher.

I fitted her for an hour (she wanted a LOT) and she slagged me off the whole time - “she doesn’t know what she’s doing / she’s so young– have they given me an intern? I want a professional / I won’t take fashion advice from a girl that heavy / she’s not using european sizing, is she stupid” - and her daughters translated VERY favourably, both of them clearly quite uncomfortable with the situation.

I put on a brave face for the whole thing, pretending not to notice, and then as I was putting in her customer info (we keep a record of all our customers) one of the daughters complimented me for pronouncing their surname correctly.

I said thanks, and casually dropped into conversation - in perfect German - that I used to live in Germany and spoke the language.

Watching all the colour drain from that woman’s face as she realised what just happened, and seeing her two daughters quietly lose their collective shit behind her, was pretty glorious. Almost made it worth it.

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mysterywrappedinatightskirt · 6 years

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Rush Hour bloopers.

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mysterywrappedinatightskirt · 6 years

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I’m with this movement!

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mysterywrappedinatightskirt · 6 years

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Reunion AU

All Over Again by eightninetwo

crescendo hearts by astringxnt

Different by fandomistic

Falling For Madness by yuuami

house of memories by minswga

i don’t wanna be your friend ( i wanna kiss your neck ) by holyoongis

I Didn’t Mean To Cause a Big Scene by LittleDisAwesome

It Feels Like There’s Oceans (Between You and Me) by mucha

orbit by hearteu

Pink Magnolia by Teddyslippers

Pop that Ice Pop by yoongayhoesuckjin

potpourri by vsyubs

Skwod by Evie_Elle

The Cure To Writer’s Block by roachprince

these words turn to gold by ziontea

way down we go by small things (lost_things)

Where the sidewalk ends by tteoksify

yesterday’s tomorrow by locks

you ruin every song by roachprince

You weren’t by Bandit4Life

Reincarnation AU

“I love you, Yoongi-hyung.” by dekukims

a murderer’s perfume by xiujaemin

Hai Shi Shan Meng by handintheshot

in another lifetime, you’re still mine by taegikook

More than you. by fieldsofludacrises

Satie by paperhearts

small town gods by 27cm

The Past Comes Quietly For All by AnotherStoryMustBegin

We’ve Met Before by smilingsea7

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mysterywrappedinatightskirt · 6 years

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Are there anymore fantasy au taegi? I really love all the stories you recommend and I get really happy when I see some of mine too. Im so glad you exist!! Jeep up the good work!!

Omg thank you! We’ll do our best! :)

But now I’m looking at these strange faces (and all I want to see is you) by goodbyelover [ 1 ch. | T | 1k+ ]

Gilded Fate by wingedwhalien [ 5/? | M | 24k+ ]

in the sunlight by umji [ 1 ch.| G | 2k+ ]

Split Pea Soup by Teddyslippers [ 1 ch. | NR | 2k+ ]

these words turn to gold by ziontea [ 1 ch. | T | 27k+ ]

for where there’s sun you’ll find a moon by pricklyplant [ 12/14 | NR | 33k+ ]

You’re My Impossible by taehyung’s moving castle by heytaetae [ 1 ch. | T | 3k+ ]

Magical Taetae by Drowninginworkbutstill [ 2/? | T | 8k+ ]

Got My Fingers Laced Together; I Made A Little Prison by softyoongles [ 1 ch. | M | 9k+ ]

Ember (+ JM) by hipsterminseok [ 1 ch. | G | 5k+ ]

All we ever have is now by Curionenene [ 1 ch. | G | 6k+ ]

Ps. What’s your ao3 acc?

- M

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mysterywrappedinatightskirt · 6 years

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If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to them the other cheek also

Matt 5:39

This specifically refers to a hand striking the side of a person’s face, tells quite a different story when placed in it’s proper historical context. In Jesus’s time, striking someone of a lower class ( a servant) with the back of the hand was used to assert authority and dominance. If the persecuted person “turned the other cheek,” the discipliner was faced with a dilemma. The left hand was used for unclean purposes, so a back-hand strike on the opposite cheek would not be performed. Another alternative would be a slap with the open hand as a challenge or to punch the person, but this was seen as a statement of equality. Thus, by turning the other cheek the persecuted was in effect putting an end to the behavior or if the slapping continued the person would lawfully be deemed equal and have to be released as a servant/slave.

(via thefullnessofthefaith)

THAT makes a lot more sense, now, thank you.

(via guardianrock)

I can attest to the original poster’s comments. A few years back I took an intensive seminar on faith-based progressive activism, and we spent an entire unit discussing how many of Jesus’ instructions and stories were performative protests designed to shed light on and ridicule the oppressions of that time period as a way to emphasize the absurdity of the social hierarchy and give people the will and motivation to make changes for a more free and equal society.

For example, the next verse (Matthew 5:40) states “And if anyone wants to sue you and take your shirt, hand over your coat as well.” In that time period, men traditionally wore a shirt and a coat-like garment as their daily wear. To sue someone for their shirt was to put them in their place - suing was generally only performed to take care of outstanding debts, and to be sued for one’s shirt meant that the person was so destitute the only valuable thing they could repay with was their own clothing. However, many cultures at that time (including Hebrew peoples) had prohibitions bordering on taboo against public nudity, so for a sued man to surrender both his shirt and his coat was to turn the system on its head and symbolically state, in a very public forum, that “I have no money with which to repay this person, but they are so insistent on taking advantage of my poverty that I am leaving this hearing buck-ass naked. His greed is the cause of a shameful public spectacle.”

All of a sudden an action of power (suing someone for their shirt) becomes a powerful symbol of subversion and mockery, as the suing patron either accepts the coat (and therefore full responsibility as the cause of the other man’s shameful display) or desperately chases the protester around trying to return his clothes to him, making a fool of himself in front of his peers and the entire gathered community.

Additionally, the next verse (Matthew 5:41; “If anyone forces you to go one mile, go with them two miles.”) was a big middle finger to the Romans who had taken over Judea and were not seen as legitimate authority by the majority of the population there. Roman law stated that a centurion on the march could require a Jew (and possibly other civilians as well, although I don’t remember explicitly) to carry his pack at any time and for any reason for one mile along the road (and because of the importance of the Roman highway system in maintaining rule over the expansive empire, the roads tended to be very well ordered and marked), however hecould not require any service beyond the next mile marker. For a Jewish civilian to carry a centurion’s pack for an entire second mile was a way to subvert the authority of the occupying forces. If the civilian wouldn’t give the pack back at the end of the first mile, the centurion would either have to forcibly take it back or report the civilian to his commanding officer (both of which would result in discipline being taken against the soldier for breaking Roman law) or wait until the civilian volunteered to return the pack, giving the Judean native implicit power over the occupying Roman and completely subverting the power structure of the Empire. Can you imagine how demoralizing that must have been for the highly ordered Roman armies that patrolled the region?

Jesus was a pacifist, but his teachings were in no way passive. There’s a reason he was practically considered a terrorist by the reigning powers, and it wasn’t because he healed the sick and fed the hungry.

(via central-avenue)

luxettenebris I thought I might leave this here for you.

(via sonsofthemorning)

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