#casual racism
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I'm still here.
I work for a school directly now and we've finished a school year.
This was me at one point trying to find an apartment in China:
I was legit considering living in a hotel because of this. I posted on WeChat explaining the situation and the secondhand embarrassment my local acquaintances experienced moved two in particular to step in and help me find a place to stay.
I didn't want to talk to the school's HR because she was hounding me about why I didnt have a Chinese girlfriend. She asked with her whole chest during the interview if I was changing jobs because of a woman.
Even as a fluent Chinese speaker, going to those housing agencies and watching them call up landlords and explain to them that a foreigner wants to rent, only to overhear the landlord asking "white? or black?" was never not embarrassing.
Everyone was all "dial 123456 and report them!" Tried that. I was all automated prompts which then lead to an app I had to download but then couldn't use because I didn't have a Chinese ID. No surprise, honestly, but was worth the shot I guess? (A lot of institutions are designed on purpose to be exhausting. You can know this in a place like China because they'll tell you straight up: If you wanna complain about is, dial this number. Good luck lol)
It was only luck that the person who reached out to help me was the random gym trainer who added my WeChat after searching for a place to workout literally 2 days prior.
Fast forward to now. School's out. Typical shenanigans: students making accidentally racist microaggressions. One kid commented that "it doesn't look right having a teacher who should be a rapper or basketball player; I don't think you're professional and can't take you seriously." And after the whole apartment malarkey, I could only give him a look, shrug my shoulders, chuckle at his inbred ignorance and keep teaching. Too tired to give the you-probably-haven't-learned-this-about-yourself-yet-but-you're-racist talk. It's 2020something, I'm saving my energy.
I'm just here to save up to leave. That's all. I now have friends in a different country and I'm working to collaberate with their career endeavors more intensively.
I'll be out of here soon enough. Just need to get a few things in order.
#china#teaching in china#foreign teacher#guangzhou#teaching#actually adhd#adhd#casual racism#casual racism is still racism#ignorant racism is still racism#renting in China#racist
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#jason aldean#try that in a small town#politics#republicans#country music#racism#racism deniers#casual racism
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Hey uuuuh... xReader writers....
Could you mark your stuff somehow if reader is gonna be even thinking about calling the black character they are with "boy."
(I'll be halfway through a fic and suddenly I feel very uncomfortable and extremely embarrassed and I have to go)
I headcanon that Hobie wouldn't be ok with that word coming from anyone but oh man for sure not from my white ass
(the comic book version of Hobie only gets called that by villains. The spider band's Final Boss calls him that constantly....)
((I do specifically mean the word Boy. I haven't had any one express to me discomfort with being called Girl. I talk about the alternative Boi in the comments. I would say "hey boi~!" I would never say "I'm going to make you mine, boy"))
((I didn't realize that this was socially acceptable in different BIPoC circles. I made this post mostly expecting this to have been a mistake that white writers were making. My friends and family have made me sensitive to this word and I fully expected this to be a non-controversial take.
I don't want to delete this post since it's already been reblogged so all deleting would do is prevent me from getting alerts about responses,
but if my clarifications in the notes don't make sense to you, I beg y'all to talk to other black southerners who are also bothered by this instead of getting me to try and explain it better))
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i have a question for the whump community
why is it that so many of y’all’s whumpee ocs are white dudes or white girls who are super conventionally attractive??
and so many of y’all’s caretaker ocs are poc, especially black, and have something unique about them such as vitiligo or being plus size, etc??
idk i could just be being too sensitive but it feels weird that only white people are seen as the “delicate ones who need care” while the poc, especially black people, are seen as “the ones who take care of them”. same for conventionally attractive versus not conventionally attractive.
doesn’t that feel awfully stereotypical?
i’m just saying it’s something i observed. has anyone else noticed this or is it all in my head?
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#erik mcentire#casual racism#strain at a gnat#what a pointless thing to be upset about#lds culture#tumblrstake
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It's exhausting to be Native, Jewish, and transgender at the same time let me tell you
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youtube
“Take him to Detroit”
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The thing people need to realize is that what the author intends is not the same as what the reader interprets.
Fans are absolutely capable of finding meaning and substance to thing the author didn’t add consciously.
Imagine your 10th grad English teacher telling you that the use of the colour blue represents depression. The author didn’t do that consciously, but contextually? It makes fucking sense.
Maybe the author didn’t explicitly say a character wasn’t white, but white readers always assume they are. That doesn’t mean they can’t be coded as, and interpreted as people of Color.
Maybe the author didn’t explicitly say the character was disabled, but context and sustained injuries made them disabled even if the author never conceptualized them in that way.
Maybe a character isn’t specifically said to be mentally ill, but they’re written to have experienced trauma and they’re interpreted by readers as mentally ill.
Authors have no control over the interpretation of their novels, and the argument that it wasn’t consciously and canonically written is ridiculous. Any author will tell you that half the details that emerge are subconscious.
If your subconscious is racist or sexist or transphobic, and in any other way bigoted? It will come out in your writing. And your readers will pick up on it. Which I think is why it’s so important to have marginalized people’s voices involved in editing and publishing.
Just because an author doesn’t mean something to be specifically offensive? Doesn’t mean it isn’t.
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okay, but what if white ppl didn't randomly interject black stereotypes into their conversations
#it's so weird#black lives matter#mexican american#my post#racial inequality#institutional racism#casual racism#old white men be like
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instagram
My birthday gift to myself was my own custom made cap. Turns out everyone wanted one too...
👏🏽INTRODUCING THE CLAPBACK CAP👏🏽
When someone asks you “Where are you REALLY from?” do you roll your eyes so hard they do a 360 in their sockets? Perhaps you get in a flustered flap, then go home and hate yourself because you didn’t think of a witty comeback on the spot? Or maybe you get into a game of ORIGIN CHICKEN that ends up with each of you demanding to see the other’s great great great great great grandparents’ birth certificate?
🙄
If you answered yes to any of these questions, the Clapback Cap is for you! Wear this accessory on your head whenever you’re feeling 🔥spicy and 🔥sassy and 🔥100% not in the mood for racist questions! It’s also the perfect gift for your Asian girlfriend, immigrant mother or your friend who looks like he’s not *from* here even though he really *really* was born in the UK!💩
I will donate up to £800 of profits towards @hackneychinese's current crowdfunder for their Coffee Afternoons.
FIRST ROUND OF ORDERS ARE BEING TAKEN (link in bio). Orders will close when I reach at least 50 caps - or 20th April, whichever happens first - and caps will be sent as soon as they are produced and delivered. This will allow me to reach a minimum quantity so I can donate more £££! Thank you for your patience!
#clapbackcap
Store Link
#where are you from#where are you really from#racism#celestial peach#British asian#clapback#cap#mixed race#biracial#Asian women#instagram#hackney#fundraiser#woc#racist#casual racism#microaggressions
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This is fucking rich...
"Me: Talks openly about how my family has been reconnecting with our heritage, feelings of imposter syndrome, and de-assimilation."
Bitch, WHEN????!!
This woman is so full of shit...if she got an enema, she could fit in an envelope.
#lily orchard#casual racism#she literally brought MMIW up just to play the victim in case one of her supposed stalkers comes after her
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Friendly reminder that all the elements that Leah Kate "stole" from Melanie Martinez had been done by Jpop and Kpop artists as early as 2004.
I said what I said.
#Literally look up asian pop culture during the 2000's#I GUARANTEE you'll find baby themed music videos and concepts#Melanie didn't create the baby concept she just made it popular in the west#Just admit you hate Leah Kate cause she's cringe and you're misogynistic#You're trying so hard to mask your misogyny by proving Leah is problematic that you ended up being racist#But if you insist on accusing Leah of theft then I guess Melanie is commiting cultural appropriation#leah kate#Casual racism#cringe culture is dead#misogny#melanie martinez
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“Yeah, I mean, in 2018 was the first Shakespeare and race festival that I curated at the Globe. And at that time, there was less vitriol, but it was more like, why are we talking about Shakespeare and race? Shakespeare's got nothing to do with race.
So that led me to thinking about writing this book. But it was in 2020, when I launched the anti-racist Shakespeare webinars, that there was a horrible backlash, very racist backlash. And my own ethnic origins were brought into the conversation.
Oh, she's a woman of color. That's why she's talking about race. And actually, I had been at the Globe for 17 years by that point, you know?
And so that backlash is about ownership. It's about people feeling that something is being taken away from them.
And after the Black Lives movement, Black Lives Matter movement went global, and organizations like museums and galleries and theaters started to take it seriously, that's when you started to see a really racist backlash against any kind of progressive movement, whether it's in a theater or a museum. And I certainly had to face that in 2020.
I was a little bit worried about it, probably more so in the UK, because I think in the UK there's a special sense of ownership of Shakespeare in the way that there isn't in the US. So I'm American, but I'm also a Pakistani. And so I think it was really, it's a double whammy for the British.
Whereas in America, I feel like I was less worried because Americans don't mind other Americans talking about Shakespeare. So I was in the UK, concerned about that. But I think it obviously didn't stop me because what I'm trying to do is keep Shakespeare around.
And I'm explicitly not advocating canceling Shakespeare. And I think that's what they all thought I was doing when I was running those webinars.
So Shakespeare sets Othello in 16th century Venice, which was a very multicultural society because Venice was a sort of trading giant in this time period. So it was really financially lucrative for them to have people from all backgrounds working and living in Venice. And so it's about a Black African, known as a Moor in that time period, who was the captain of the Venetian army.
And it starts with another member of the army sort of screaming and shouting outside the door or window of a fellow's now father-in-law saying that, basically shouting a lot of racist epithets about how his daughter, his white daughter, has married a Black man. And she's done so without her father's consent. So it starts with this idea of there's been some sort of violation.
A Black man has married a white woman, and this is a problem.
So it ends up at the court of the Duke who is dealing with other issues because the Turks are now circling around their outpost in Cyprus, and they need Othello to do some work for them and to fight off the Turks. So the Duke says, oh, look, it's okay. It's fine. You know, Othello is a great guy. We've all worked with him. We know him really well.
And that's when the line comes out: He is far more fair than Black.
And what he's saying there is that essentially, look, he doesn't act Black. He acts white. He acts like us. So let's just be okay with this.
And so what you have there is a situation in which somebody who has kind of violated a kind of racial code in Venetian society is given a pass because he's very useful to that society. What happens in the rest of the play is that lago works on him and tries to convince him that his wife is having an affair with his lieutenant.
And unfortunately, Othello believes him, and they plot to murder Desdemona, and they do. He does. And it's a heartbreaking, heart-wrenching play.
And what's difficult about it is that it seems to fulfill stereotypes about Black men and Black masculinity. So it's always been a bit of a problem to stage. So yeah, it's a fantastic play, though.
It's a real sort of exploration of interracial relationships in a white-dominant society.
Yeah, I think it's harder in classrooms. And that's something that I actually been thinking about how to address a colleague of mine, and I've been discussing it. Because a lot of teachers, especially white teachers, aren't necessarily equipped to have a conversation about race that isn't going to make all the students in the room feel objectified or uncomfortable.
And so what I'm trying to, what I also get at the book is about discomfort, being able to lean into the discomfort of having conversations. And Shakespeare, for him, he was an advocate of discomfort. You were not comfortable when you went to see a Shakespearean tragedy.
He didn't want you to be.
And so we should try and be comfortable in the classroom. And there are productions who have tried very hard to lean into the racial tension and angst in the play.
But often it can be unsuccessful, particularly if it's a white director that sees too much optimism in the play. And says, oh, this play really, it's not about race. It's about redemption of characters who've been singled out for some reason.
I'm like, well, the reason is race.
My goal was always to show how it rears its head, even in the moments that are the most unexpected or that seems innocuous.
But what is interesting is that in a lot of his comedies, he's using anti-Black racism as a source of humor. And, you know, that would have made people laugh, some of the comments that you hear in some of his most delightful comedies. And because the racism isn't the undercurrent of the play, that it's easy to miss it.
So you'll just get all of a sudden a comment like Much Ado About Nothing, where the character Benedict is talking with his friend Claudio about a woman that Claudio has a crush on. And he says, oh, she's too brown for a fair praise. And that would have made people laugh.
What he's saying is that she's not attractive enough to praise her, and fair in that time was a very elite form of whiteness. It meant beautiful and virtuous and white with a luster or a shine, and that shine is the virtue of a woman. And no woman of color could ever achieve that, because she's not white enough.
So he's saying that this woman is too brown, even if she's not brown, but he's using brown as a way of denigrating people of color.
But I think Shakespeare is still valuable for us because of the contemporary nature of some of the issues that he raises in his plays.
I mean, there's a great speech in Midsummer Night's Dream where he talks about the destruction of the planet because of the way people are behaving towards each other. And the powerful resonance of that today just is unmissable. So Shakespeare is able to articulate or help you to think about questions that are so urgent in your own moment.
I think other writers need to be brought into dialogue with Shakespeare. If you teach Othello, teach Toni Morrison's Desdemona, right?
It's incredibly lucrative intellectually and emotionally to keep Shakespeare in the curriculum.”
—Farah Karim Cooper: Director of Education at Shakespeare's Globe Theatre, and author of The Great White Bard, How to Love Shakespeare While Talking About Race
#shakespeare#farah karim cooper#othello#racism#ingrained racism#casual racism#writing#much ado about nothing#colorism#the merchant of venice#anti blackness#desdemona#blacklivesmatter#theatre
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the internet quirkifying "casual" racism has made racists even more comfortable to just say shit
yeah absolutely
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It's really disheartening to post something about positivity and inclusivity and then to realize it's being reblogged by people who think that ancient, sacred closed practices that hold special meaning to my culture and other people's cultures are being used as accessories.
Please, white Americans and Europeans, understand that you don't have a spirit animal or a tulpa. You aren't two spirit. You have not gone on a vision quest just because you took some Benadryl and tripped. You can't do hoodoo or voodoo, both require ancestor worship and connections to non-white cultures, and your ancestors weren't part of either community. (Also, you aren't transracial, before anyone even tries.)
And none of the afformentioned subjects are related to your mental illness. Stop being shitty. Find your own fucking culture to mock.
#race and ethnicity#racism#casual racism#cultural appropriation#discourse#tulpa#spirit animal#two spirit#hoodoo#voodoo#psa#literally tired of explaining that my dni includes yt kids with spirit animal tulpa systems jfc why are people like this
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to find promise of peace (and the solace of rest): a TMA fanfic
[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] || Also on AO3.
Chapter 8: January 2016
It hurts.
That’s the first thing Gerard thinks when he becomes aware. Complete pain, like every bone in his body has been broken and replaced with acid. His joints ache the worst, throbbing and pulsing under the eyes tattooed on each one, as if the protective charm eked into them is fighting with whatever is around him. It’s excruciating.
And, since he’s pretty sure he’s dead, it’s also really fucking annoying.
Gerard takes several deep breaths, which he also shouldn’t be able to do (since he’s, you know, dead). His hands curl into fists, fingernails digging into his palms, trying to distract him from the overall pain by adding new pain…
“Bloody hell.” The voice is wholly unfamiliar to Gerard, a deep Mancusian accent with a chronic smoker’s rasp, and sounds awed. “What is that?”
“Are you Gerard Keay?” It’s another unfamiliar voice, this one female and strident.
He opens his eyes and looks around. He’s standing in what looks like an abandoned shack. In front of him are two people, an old man and a young woman, both staring at him with a mixture of shock and disgust. The woman has short-cropped blonde hair and hard green eyes; the man’s hair looks blond too, at first, until he bares his teeth and Gerard realizes it should be somewhere between grey and white, but is stained yellow from a heavy nicotine habit. Probably they both smoke, if the pack of cigarettes in the woman’s jacket pocket is any indication. She looks about Gerard’s age, maybe a little older, with a sturdy denim jacket and a pair of tan hiking boots, and on the surface looks like the sort of person Neens would hang out with when she wasn’t doing her show. There’s a hardness to her face, though, a kind of scary spark, that makes Gerard want to keep her as far from his sister as possible. The man has the appearance of a tramp, with a long tan trench coat that’s seen better days and a scraggly beard, but there’s a gleam in his eyes that makes Gerard want to run and never look back.
It’s that feeling, that and the sudden throb of pain from the eyes tattooed on his knees, that tells him who—or at least what—these people are. “You’re Hunters,” he says, and his voice surprises him. It doesn’t sound hollow or echo-y or faint—it sounds just like he normally does when talking to his siblings, or haranguing Gertrude, or—shit, Gertrude. What have these two done with her?
The woman’s eyes flash. She reaches under her jacket and half-pulls an object—a gun, Gerard realizes—then slides it back in, either like she doesn’t think it’ll work or like she just wants him to know she has it. Or maybe both. “I asked you a question. Are you—” She points at a table near her. “Are you Gerard Keay?”
Gerard’s eyes focus on what she’s pointing at, and his stomach lurches. Lying open is a too-familiar book, the pages in different shades ranging from ivory to ebony, a bit of charring visible just before the spread the book is open to. The handwriting on the open page is too familiar…but it’s not his mother’s.
Gertrude. Gertrude put him in the Book. He should have guessed his mother might have told her how to do it before she destroyed her.
Part of him is no longer worried about what these two might have done to her. The greater part is more worried.
“Who’s asking?” he says instead.
“Got a lot of cheek for someone with no pull,” grunts the man. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a lighter—flicks it so the flame comes to life—waves it in the direction of the book. “You come out of that book, did you? What would happen if I were to…?”
Gerard doesn’t know, but considering how careful Gertrude was about destroying his mother’s pages without damaging the rest of the book, he doesn’t want to risk it. Every single eye tattooed on his body flares with pain, and he swallows the instinctive wince. Sadly, he’s got a lot of practice with that. “All right, all right,” he says, holding up his hands in what he hopes is a placating gesture. “No need to get threatening. Yes, I’m Gerard Keay. Who are you?”
“Like you said. We’re Hunters.” The woman folds her arms. Gerard knows he’s not getting any more out of them than that. “You know what we hunt?”
“What?” Gerard asks with some trepidation, even though he’s pretty sure he knows the answer.
The man smiles slowly. “Monsters. And you look like a right dangerous one.”
They always start off that way, Gerard thinks distantly. Or at least they usually do. Those Marked by the Hunt—at least, those that aren’t marked as prey—always seem to convince themselves they’re doing the right thing. They’re chasing down monsters, criminals, things that go bump in the night. A good portion of them end up as police officers, or bail bondsmen, or bounty hunters. They always start out thinking they’re doing the right thing, and then they end up committing the worst crimes imaginable.
“I’m not dangerous, mate,” Gerard says, trying his hardest to look nonthreatening. “I’m just…” He waves his hand at the table, hoping against hope, and sure enough, his hand goes right through it. “Besides. You summoned me.”
“Those were the only pages we could read.” The woman flips back through a couple pages. “What is this, Martian?”
“Sanskrit,” Gerard says shortly. His dislike of the pair notches up a bit. Anyone that derisive of languages other than English, or alphabets other than the Roman alphabet, is probably not a great person.
“Do they all summon…things like you?”
“Probably. If you read it properly.” Gerard reads Sanskrit well enough to understand it, maybe even to translate it, but his pronunciation is iffy at best, so he’s never tried actually activating one of the pages. Partly for fear of accidentally bringing an unholy abomination into the world, partly because, well, he really didn’t want to. He might have if his father had actually been in the book, but surprisingly, his mother hadn’t actually put him in there. She’d just killed him. Apparently she didn’t think he was worth the effort.
There was one page he’d thought about reading, but he’d never quite been able to bring himself to do it.
The man looks interested. “You know about these things. Monsters.”
Gerard nods. “Spent most of my life studying them. Fighting them.” Well, sort of, but he doesn’t think these two are interested in the nuances.
The pair exchange a look. Gerard realizes what it means, and his heart sinks. They’re going to be the latest in a long line of people who use him, without regard to what he wants or what he needs. And there’s not going to be anywhere for him to run. Even if he could, with as much pain as he’s in, he doesn’t think he’d get very far. He’s tied to the Book now. His mother could manifest at will, but that was all she could do; she could never go very far from it. At best, he might be able to make it to the other side of the shack, but…
“Well, Gerard,” the woman says, her voice full of malicious satisfaction, “I think we’re all going to be very good friends.”
“Yeah,” Gerard says, resigned…for the moment, anyway. “I’ll just bet.”
#to find promise of peace (and the solace of rest)#ollie writes fanfic#tma fanfic#gerard keay#trevor herbert#julia montauk#smoking mention#death mention#casual racism#I am not marketing this fanfic on the Apple store and therefore am not bound by restrictions on profanity
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