Gina Harris's Blog, page 26

Native American Heritage Month: Indigenous Identity, Part 1

In addition to reading about Robbie Robertson and Pat and Lolly Vegas of Redbone, there was one other celebrity I read about in November:

Priceless Memories by Bob Barker with Digby Diehl

I'm sure I would have read it anyway; he had died and we watched The Price is Right: A Tribute to Bob Barker. That's when we requested it from the library. Many other people did as well, so I read it in November.

I was happy with the timing because I had seen that he spent a lot of his growing up years on the Rosebud Indian Reservation, but it did not always seem clear that he was a member of the tribe there.

After reading the book, it made more sense.

Bob's father was one-quarter Sioux, but he died when Bob was very young. Neither Bob's mother nor his stepfather were Native, but because his mother taught on the reservation, they did often live there. 

As it was, Bob acknowledges being 1/8th Sioux. He is proud of it, and he did appear on the tribal rolls, yet it doesn't feel (to me) like it felt to him like something he was.

I don't think it is because of being only 1/8th. Most of the relatives mentioned in his growing up are on his mother's side. I think if he and his father had more time together, and maybe even if there had been more paternal relatives around it would be different, but that's how it turned out.

Robbie Robertson is Cayuga and Mohawk through his mother. He also had his father die young, and only connected to his Jewish family later (and he did not know for a long time that his stepfather was not his father). However, even though they were living off the reservation they visited it often. His mother's family was an important part of his musical development. 

Also, note that with those two examples we have Tillie Barker, a non-Native, living on a reservation, and Rosemarie Chrysler, a Native, living in the city.

That is not a criticism of anyone, but more a reflection on how identity is formed.

I am half Italian, through my mother. On my father's side I know that there is English, Welsh, Scottish, Huguenot, and Dutch. Except for the Huguenots, all of the lines came over in colonial times so, yes, very much the blood of colonizers, a long way back.

I have always identified more with the Italian. It is more recent and I am closer to my mother than my father (though I definitely get things from him). 

It is also true that I also feel the part of me that is Italian differently after making it to Italy and meeting my family there. I knew names before, but after I knew them.

I remember even before reading Kim TallBear's Native American DNA: Tribal Belonging and the False Promise of Genetic Science, that it was not about whom you claimed, but who claims you. Those connections are the key. 

That idea was completely logical, but the book was not nearly as clear. That may be the result of how complicated the issue is, or possibly of TallBear wishing to withhold acceptance of various people (at least based on later behavior).

However, books I discovered almost accidentally have recently given me much more to think about.

Meaning that I will spend more time on this.

Related posts: 

https://sporkful.blogspot.com/2024/01/native-american-heritage-month.html

https://sporkful.blogspot.com/2024/01/daily-songs-for-native-american.html

Deferred disability

I said last week that I wanted to spend a bit more time on disability. There are a few reasons for this.

Part of it is my own experience with diabetes. 

Three years ago I learned that diabetes was legally a disability, and wrote about feeling some ambivalence about that:

https://sporkful.blogspot.com/2020/09/identity-crisis.html 

It feels more real now. This is partly due to a medication change that isn't working out. We should be able to go back, but it has demonstrated that I don't snap back the way I used to. That's not uncommon with age, but it's not fun. 

I am starting to wonder if it is even possible for me to maintain healthy blood sugars while working this particular job. If not, I need to figure out what that means, beyond it just seeming very unfair.

Various organs -- including the pancreas -- not working as well as you age is pretty common.

It happens with joints too, where stairways and sunken living rooms can become much more dangerous.

Plus potential memory issues.

Speaking of my job, I talk to a lot of people of Medicare age (which is not as far away for me as it used to be), and there are some things you hear multiple times. A lot of people have retired to the coast, which is a common dream. The downside is that there just aren't a lot of doctors out there. 

For some people this has resulted in losing their Medicare Advantage plans without a sufficient network. They can still be on Medicare, maybe with a supplement, but they are often driving pretty far for their appointments. That may not be ideal for elderly drivers anyway, but if you had emergency situations or inclement weather, that can be much worse.

(Expect more inclement weather each year.)

Personally, I have never wanted to move to the coast, but you may find long wait times to get into doctors here as well. Lately, I have also had a lot of people getting the runaround at their pharmacy, because there are things that people can't find or don't know how to do. They are covered for the prescription and it is in stock (not always the case), so there shouldn't be an issue, but high turnover and inadequate staffing creates issues.

Of course, where I started thinking of it last week related to concerns about how we treat Covid, and the increase in cases of Long Covid we are going to see. The risk of infection is higher for many who are already disabled, but additional transmission is also going to increase the pool of disabled people.

The frustration in last week's post comes from so few people even paying attention to or caring about the needs of the disabled. 

That they have needs should be reason enough to care. 

That the improvements that we make -- like curb cuts or better signage -- ends up making life better for everyone else should be reason enough to care.

But also, know that the longer you live, the more likely you are to join their ranks and have similar needs. The longer we go without heeding them, the less likely it is that your needs will be acknowledged in turn.

Money can shield you from a lot, but it has its limits.

Daily songs for Native American Heritage Month

Two things (other than previous listening) affected my song choices for this last Native American Heritage month: musically focused reading and anger.

One of those was the Robbie Robertson reading. You can see that The Band gets two songs, "The Weight" and "I Shall Be Released", because those two were the songs I liked. 

The anger was at people tearing down celebrities claiming Indian lineage. 

It made me want to bring in every artist ever attacked, but it would be easy to do that from spite, which is not the best motivation. 

(You may also notice that Buffy Sainte-Marie has two songs, though partly that was that I started with her and then decided "Universal Soldier" would be a good fit for Veterans' Day.)

It also made me just want to go off on Indian identity. I am probably not the best person for that, white as I am. 

But, Testimony was not my only rock reading.

I also found a graphic novel about the band Redbone, of "Come and Get Your Love."

Redbone: The True Story of a Native American Rock Band by Christian Staebler and Sonia Paoloni, illustrated by Thibault Balahy

One of the scenes has Jimi Hendrix coming to the band and telling them that only white people would believe they were Mexican. He can tell that they are Indian (there are some Mexican roots as well), and he has his own Cherokee grandmother.

I haven't seen anyone attacking Jimi's roots yet, but maybe I haven't looked hard enough. 

Anyway, I am going to explore identity more in another post, in a cool and collected manner, but I did include some people that I had thought of including, and I will spend more time on them.

The biggest weakness that occurs to me now is that I really have not listened to enough Link Wray. I have used songs from him at other times, but I have not been doing anything more than casual listening. When I take an artist and listen to their entire catalog three times? I should do that for him.

(I could listen to Robbie Robertson more, but I could not go over The Band's catalog three times, and certainly not for when they were backing Dylan.)

Here are the songs:

11/1 “Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee” by Buffy Sainte-Marie
11/2 “The Weight” by The Band
11/3 “We Were All Wounded at Wounded Knee” by Redbone
11/4 “Falling Rain” by Link Wray
11/5 “My Blood Runs Through This Land” by Black Belt Eagle Scout
11/6 “Star Dust” by Frank Waln
11/7 ”Soldier of Love” by Tracy Bone
11/8 “The Garden of Love” by Martha Redbone
11/9 “Hear My Train A Comin'” by Jimi Hendrix
11/10 “Light of Mine” by Mic Jordan feat. Jessica Vines
11/11 “Universal Soldier” by Buffy Sainte-Marie
11/12 “Honor Song” by Jeremy Dutcher
11/13 “Lemonadas Verde Cumbia” by Southern Scratch
11/14 “Tree of Woe” by Halluci Nation feat. Damian Abraham
11/15 “Book of Life” by Keith Secola
11/16 “Colonizer” by Tanya Tagaq
11/17 “I Got Paid Today” by Snotty Nose Rez Kids
11/18 “Keep On Living” by Arigon Starr
11/19 “Water Prayer Song” by Andrea Menard
11/20 “Meet Me At The Pow Wow” by Lightning Cloud
11/21 “Let 'em Know” by City Natives
11/22 “Drowning” by Natanii Means
11/23 “Land Back” by Halluci Nation ft. Boogey The Beat & Northern Voice
11/24 “Call Them Sticks Home” by Naca Charging Crow
11/25 “Not Your Mascot, I've Been Watching” by Michael Bucher
11/26 “(Your Love Has Lifted Me) Higher & Higher” by Rita Coolidge
11/27 “Believe” by Cher
11/28 “Something Beautiful” by Tina Turner
11/29 “Be My Baby” by The Ronnettes
11/30 “I Shall Be Released” by The Band

Sick Day

I called in sick Friday. It wasn't a lie, but it was also something I rarely do.

I didn't call in sick a single day when I had Covid.

Of course, for most of that time I did not think I had it, but I did not feel great.

This time a cold came around. I was still very functional, occasionally having to use the mute button to hide coughs, and going through a lot of cough drops.

Then Friday, I just couldn't. 

I know part of it was not believing my voice would last throughout the day. I still thought I could get a couple of hours in, but there was just this "No!" rearing up inside of me.

I was almost dressed for work, but I called the attendance line, got back into my nightgown and back into my bed, and stayed there for three hours. 

Having done so, I felt significantly better.

I have been going so hard (and hating it) for so long, I might just have given out anyway. However, I might have been influenced by Twitter.

Recently, Bernie Sanders tweeted about having Covid and isolating but still working through it. 

One person who is not particularly prominent tweeted a fairly scathing rebuke: this attitude about something that is "debilitating and deadly" is harmful. 

It probably would not have made much of a stir, except that podcaster Jon Favreau -- not to be confused with actor and filmmaker Jon Favreau (and even if we need multiple Jon Favreau's, do we really need more podcasters?) -- quote tweeted it deprecatingly, touching a nerve in the disabled community that he did not know existed.

He got several replies, many of them very helpful, about why the attitude is harmful, the problems with not resting and not taking disease seriously, and the specific affect on disabled people.

Favreau mainly responded by blocking them.

https://disabilityvisibilityproject.com/2024/01/02/disabled-outrage-and-podsavejon/

Please note that the sort of quote tweeting Favreau, with his 1.3 million followers, did to someone with fewer than ten thousand followers is a great way to draw abuse upon them. He certainly did not increase understanding. 

Well, the responses he drew may have ended up increasing understanding for some people, but he did a lot of doubling down before he started blocking. 

I think I am going to write more about disability next week. 

For now, it is possible that I would not have been able to log in Friday anyway. My voice was rough, there had been lots of weekend shifts in addition to the regular work week, and it has been very frustrating. 

I keep meaning to take better care of myself, and calling in that day may have been affirmative self-care.

It is also possible that seeing it mattering to other people made it possible to take that affirmative self-care for me. 

I am not always great at prioritizing my needs, and capitalism gives you a lot of reason not to.

So thank you Thomas, Alice, Aparna, Angela, and the others. 

Jon and Bernie, do better.

Native American Heritage Month: Spotlight on Robbie Robertson

The list originally appeared in December 2020, but I saw it later than that:

https://www.rollingstone.com/music/music-lists/books-greatest-rock-memoirs-of-all-time-161198/ 

Some of them I have read and agree with, I disagree with others, but there were six that I added to my list from that. Three down; three to go. (I believe there will be a post on that when I get there.)

With Robbie Robertson, I was searching for Testimony at the library and several materials came up:

Music From Big Pink, an album by The Band
Rock & Roll Highway: The Robbie Robertson Story, a children's book by Robbie's son, Sebastian Robertson, and illustrated by Adam Gustavson
Once Were Brothers: Robbie Robertson and The Band, a documentary
Legends, Icons, & Rebels: Music That Changed the World, a book by both Robbie and Sebastian, as well as Jim Guerinot and Jared Levine
The Last Waltz, a documentary of The Band's final concert

Also, of course, Testimony by Robbie Robertson.

Well, you know how I like diving in. 

One of the most interesting things for me was that I often don't find Robertson looking like himself, except when he's playing guitar. Somehow that just shows his essence.

The worst part of it for me was some difference in musical tastes. Largely that was because there was so much Dylan.

I do not care for him.

The Legends book goes over 27 influential musicians. I can't argue with any of them or their impacts, but not only did I have to listen to Bob Dylan more, there was a duet with him in the section on  Johnny Cash. Aggravating! 

(January songs are coming from that book.)

Even The Band is not exactly my taste, though there are songs that I like.

That being said, I found the documentaries and the memoir really interesting. There is so much rock history and fellowship there, as well as band dynamics and interpersonal relationships, which interest me a lot. 

I did get tired of the drugs though. If you're reading about music in the 60s and 70s, it feels like it never stops.

Regardless of my lack of enthusiasm for Bob Dylan (and The Beatles), I don't regret any of the reading, viewing and listening choices relating to Robbie Robertson. There are other thoughts though, and they relate to identity. 

I said last week that I would post about the November songs in this post, but it made sense to write about Robbie Robertson first. Then, looking at identity along with another band and a television personality, the songs I chose will make more sense.

Professional?

A while back -- not long after people started talking about "quiet quitting" -- I saw a thread about how loaded the term "professional" is, and how it gets used.

I thought about that quite a bit; I am often told how professional I sound, and I try really hard to do a good job. Reading about the kind of behavior that is considered "professional" and the way some employers will try and leverage it to get people to take on more work without paying more, though ... well, I could see the point.

I am thinking about it again because work is so terrible right now. We are overloaded and there is no time between calls. I briefly had to have four windows open because there were calls I could not finish logging before the next one came in. I had to do two e-mail escalations, and it took me at least six hours due to all of the interruptions. Honestly, it was amazing that I could finish them without forgetting what I needed to send.

Staffing issues are a real thing, and my employers could be much worse. There are also some things that I believe they could handle better and I will be giving feedback on that.

However, as much as I want to scream and cry and run away, and as much as I am dreading getting up in the morning and logging in, I still sound smooth and kind and "professional".

I actually had to think about back then, because I would hear myself sounding so polished and calm and caring... I kind of felt hypocritical, you know? Am I a big faker?

As it is, my job performance has a lot to do with my values, but it also has a fair amount to do with my damage. 

The rest of it is just capitalism.

I recently figured out that when the phone rings, it triggers my fight or flight response; that is why my rage builds throughout the day. 

Despite that, when I answer that ring, there is a human being there. 

I talk to a lot of seniors. Often there are things that are confusing for them and seem unmanageable.I am usually able to help with that.

Sometimes they are quite rude or annoying, but even then, there is generally a vulnerability there. Often when someone is droning on, I can tell that they are lonely, and I can sympathize with that. If there is hostility, it may be a sign of fear, or frustration. People may realize they were wrong and not want to let on. I can be sympathetic to that.

My smooth voice and calm manner helps reassure them.

Every now and then, someone is just a jerk, and there is a certain type of old bag that I hope I never am, but I am also a very practical person; responding to that in kind is not going to make anything better.

That is where it is part of my values, and who I want to be. It pertains to how I treat my coworkers too, because they are all people, and people are important to me.

For my damage, well, I still have this neurotic perfectionism that tortures me sometimes. I am still cringing about a book I misplaced. I found it in time, and all as well, but I won't get over it easily. 

That's a process.

So, that's where I am now. It's not great for my physical or mental health, and I desperately want to be delivered, though there only seems to be one possible solution and it's a long shot. 

It is important to me that I am behaving in a manner true to myself, such as it is.

But, allow me to add the reminder that much of the reason that there are so many people calling and not enough staff to answer the calls is that we have an unnecessarily bureaucratic health care system that places an unfair burden on those needing care, with diminishing resources due not only to obstacles to education but increasingly due to choosing profit over public health, especially in regards to Covid.

Capitalism! (Socialism isn't the answer either, because there is still dominator culture.)

Daily songs for December, mostly

This is out of sequence, as I have not written about November songs yet. That will be next week.

I had frustration for both months with not having a solid plan. It ended up being more personal for December; I could not bring myself to do Christmas music. I felt such an utter aversion to celebration I couldn't do it.

Well, I had been saving the "12 Days of Dim Sum" since May, so that was an easy starting place, but then I just didn't know. Christmas songs feel celebratory, and I don't.

My May music selections helped me again.

Youtube is always trying to get me to stay longer, but has to keep suggesting a wider range of songs, because I don't have easily discernible patterns in my listening. They offered me "Winter" by James Iha.

It occurred to me that songs about winter and cold weather might work, being seasonal but not Christmas-y, and often being real bummers. Maye with enough cold songs I might want to do some Christmas songs again.

I wasn't cheering up.

We didn't have a bad Christmas or anything, and some things were very meaningful, but my mother doesn't recognize me, and is in hospice, and work sucks. I feel that.

I thought I was going to run out of songs but fortunately I thought of searching on "December"; there's a ton of songs with that in the title.

A few things worked out unexpectedly.

First of all, I did find songs that I had not known that I really like. That was a plus.

Two of those songs came from Christmas albums that I did not know existed: Happy Holiday by Billy Idol and December by The Moody Blues.

Also, three of the videos did kind of have the vibe of weird Christmas specials (Fleet Foxes, Kate Bush, and George Michael).

George Michael's "December Song" -- subtitled "I Dreamed of Christmas" -- became the Christmas Eve song, followed by Christmas songs from Billy Idol and Ministry. 

(Ministry singer Al Jourgensen has his own version of "It's Always Christmas". I used the band version, but he came up with Cuban American singers in October.)

As the end of the year approached, I kept thinking about 41 by Reggie and the Full Effect. 

I reviewed 41 when it came out. Even though the album meant a lot to me, my writing is lackluster. The music affected me in a way that I could not write about then.

The album is based on a period of about a year where James Dewees lost his mother, his mother-in-law, and his marriage (while still being there for his soon-to-be-ex-wife and his mother-in-law.) 

The doctors' visits and hospital time (I think it was cancer in both cases) is best heard in "New Year's Day" (but also on "Maggie"). When I first heard it, I felt like I was hearing my future, though some of the other songs were my present. 

I think his year was worse, but for me it came at a time that was hard and getting harder. While it did get easier, it didn't end. I believe we are getting closer to that ending, so that song and some of the others were in my mind on repeat.

I remember an interview where he said part of it was that his mother had taught him music, which had been such a big part of his life that there was a question of "How" with the loss. How is this happening? How do I make it?

Again, not the same experience, but maybe some parallel feelings. 

Anyway, I had to use those three songs, except that it was also a year where I learned a lot, and was able to move past things. "Throw It Away" kept playing too. 

In November we watched the Arlo Guthrie episode of The Muppet Show (it was sort of Thanksgiving-ish), and one of his songs stuck with me, where solitude and journeying do not mean being alone or lost.

That's when the last few songs started to take place.

It didn't flow. There were two spaces that nothing seemed right for. With both "Each Tear" and "Move Along", I didn't figure them out until the night before, and I had to get to them through other songs. 

To work out right, it also needed to spill into January, so, this is messy, but that was true with the songs back in September and October too.

Ultimately what I have is a playlist that comes from exploring the new, sometimes finding great things, and sometimes just finding okay things, but then also needing to come back to the music that I love, often that I loved from the moment I heard it, and that helps me with the feelings that could be overwhelming.

Sometimes I like to do this sequence where there is a progression, but the sadder and more positive songs alternate in this.

My bad time is not over, but I am still here.

Daily songs

12/1 “12 Days of Dim Sum” by Only Won & Larissa Lam
12/2 “Winter” by James Iha
12/3 “Hazy Shade of Winter” by The Bangles
12/4 “Winter Marches On” by Duran Duran
12/5 “Love Like Winter” by AFI
12/6 “Wintertime Love” by The Doors
12/7 “Winter Sound” by Of Monsters And Men
12/8 “Valley Winter Song” by Fountains of Wayne
12/9 “Wintertime” by Norah Jones
12/10 “A Winter's Tale” by The Moody Blues
12/11 “White Winter Hymnal” by Fleet Foxes
12/12 “Misty” by Kate Bush
12/13 “Cold Weather Blues” by Muddy Waters
12/14 “Cold Chill” by Stevie Wonder
12/15 “I Felt the Chill Before the Winter Came” by Elvis Costello
12/16 “Snow (Hey Oh) by Red Hot Chili Peppers
12/17 “Angel in the Snow” by A-ha
12/18 “December (Again)” by Neck Deep ft. Mark Hoppus
12/19 “December” by Weezer
12/20 “A Long December” by Counting Crows
12/21 “December” by Collective Soul
12/22 “My December” by Linkin Park
12/23 “Decembers” by Hawthorn Heights
12/24 “December Song” by George Michael
12/25 “On Christmas Day” by Billy Idol
12/26 "It's Always Christmas Time” by Ministry
12/27 “The Horrible Year” by Reggie and the Full Effect
12/28 “Broke Down” by Reggie and the Full Effect
12/29 “Sailing Down My Golden River” by Arlo Guthrie
12/30 “Hourglass” by Mary J. Blige
12/31 “Each Tear” by Mary J. Blige ft Jay Sean
1/1 “New Year's Day” by Reggie and the Full Effect
1/2 “Throw It Away” by Abbey Lincoln
1/3 “Move Along” by The All-American Rejects
1/4 “Still Alive” by Social Distortion

Throw it away

One thing about my desire to keep books went beyond that I might not remember something. I also would often read a book and think that I would need to read it again after reading other things. I was not sure that I had understood enough, because sometimes they would reference background knowledge that I did not have.

There are still a few books where that probably applies, but what I have found is that the new knowledge fills in and makes me understand those books better without re-reading them. 

My brain worked better than I knew it would; that was reassuring.

It probably works better that I read groups of books together now.

This is something that I really care about, and it relieves some pressure. That should all be really great. It does leave one problem.

I am painfully aware that memories can go.

It could happen to me.

My grandmother had it. An aunt had it. My mother has it.

I could catch up on my reading (not very likely) and have it start fading away (more likely than I would hope).

I can bear it.

It probably helps some seeing that my mother has been doing okay with this. There were less peaceful periods and not everyone has the same experience.

On one of my recent visits, a different woman was crying, she said because she was stupid. 

I hurt for her.

But somehow I find that my mother is still sweet and engaging. Sometimes as she goes through these things that never happened, it feels like she is working out things that she wished happened. 

I don't know. I don't want to make it sound too good, because it has been very hard, and some of those better outcomes required a lot of sacrifice. 

It does seem to have been easier on her than on her children. Still, I would rather not.

But I can bear whatever happens, including whatever loss happens. 

I can bear it because I have borne other losses and survived. 

I can bear it because of my faith that those memories and relationships will come back.

I can bear it because -- despite whatever hardships there have been -- I like myself and am essentially happy with myself.

I can bear it because all of the struggles have shown me things that I needed to know, and led me to this place.

I won't say that I am exactly where I need to be; that implies a level of precision that I can't confirm. It's been messy.

But essentially, ultimately, I am where I need to be and I have peace with that.

While I am trying harder to remember to connect with and cherish people, I can let go of things and worries and fears.

Throw it away
Throw it away
Give your love, live your life
Each and every day

And keep your hand wide open
Let the sun shine through
'Cause you can never lose a thing
If it belongs to you.

-- Abbey Lincoln

 

La Raza Heritage Month: Stereotyping

Lone Star was a good movie, but there was a really awkward sex scene. 

I think there was a good reason it was so awkward, but that's a major spoiler so I will put it down at the bottom of the post. The possibility of it making sense came much later though, so while I was watching it, it was just "That's not sexy."

I would have remembered that anyway, but what drove it home was reading a reference to a review of the movie referring to the "sultry" Elisabeth Peña, noting that there is nothing sultry about Peña's performance.

(I believe this refers to a review from Janet Maslin referenced in De Colores Means All of Us.)

If I had not recently viewed the movie, I would have read the reference and agreed that sounded kind of racist. Having just seen the movie, what were they thinking?

It's a great performance. Pilar is a relatively young widow with two children (with one whose grief is turning into rebellion), a difficult mother, and heavy job responsibilities in the school system where white parents push back on the representation that makes sense for the many students of color. It is her time in a meeting that may give the best idea of life on the border.

She navigates all of this responsibility with dignity, a wry humor, and the needed diplomacy, and you never lose sight of how tiring it must be, even as you admire that she keeps going.

Add to that the awkward sex scene, and the only way we are getting "sultry" out of that is if you assume it should be there because she is Latina.

Let me add to this a quote I saved out of Border Matters: Remapping American Cultural Studies:

… fromtraditional Mexican views such as those espoused by Octavio Paz, whoclaims in The Labyrinth of Solitude that pachucos wereinauthentic Mexicans. (p. 59)

Also add to that reading about disagreements about who could be Chicano or be allowed in MeCha and conflicts between pro-union and pro-environment activists... we shouldn't be fighting and gatekeeping each other.

I'm sure there are places where it makes sense to draw boundaries. If those boundaries are based on how someone in a certain class should be, or a way of looking down at others, then that seems bound to cause harm.

To avoid straying too far out of my lane, let me give personal examples. I am white, but I am also a woman, fat, and kind of poor (though there are different levels and in some ways I am very fortunate).

Of course it would be very easy for me to feel a sense of superiority to women of color and try and exert authority over them, perhaps by playing a victim whom men of color feel bound to defend; white women are notorious for that.

What I am referring to, though, is something perhaps less obvious, 

It could be very easy for me to look down on other women, judging their choices and assuming mine are better. This frequently comes up as "not like other girls" or disputes between "crunchy" versus "silky" moms, or "boy moms" against any other woman who might take her son or give birth to a daughter who takes her son.

(Sounds like she would be happier if her son were gay, but somehow, no.)

It could be very easy for me to believe that my economic status is simply bad luck, but that other people messed up, and I am not really one of those people. I do see how the system has worked against me, but it is abundantly clear that I am not unique in that way.

I could easily do the same thing with my weight, virtuously working to limit caloric intake and maximize activity, and judging anyone I happen to catch eating or resting. 

This type of attitude requires that the judgment on my marginalized group is just, but that I am the exception. I might even find people in the dominant group who would agree that I am not like the others, and possibly handsomely compensate me for assisting with their oppression.

Whatever satisfaction might come with that, I would be degrading myself. I would have this growing frustration as my exceptionalness did not pay off enough. I would be making the world a worse place.

I promise there would not be reliable loyalty from those I assisted.

We should be who we are in our own way. Ideally that will involve kindness, integrity, and self-examination. We might find excellent ways of inhabiting those identities, but they will still not justify trying to coerce others to follow our model.

There are enough people doing that.

And now... SPOILER ALERT!

*************************************************

It makes more sense that the love scene was so awkward when we find out that the reason their parents separated teenage Pilar and Sam was not mere racism or classism or being overly controlling, but because those parents knew that Pilar and Sam were half siblings, thus explaining that deep sense of connection they felt.

Disturbingly, once they both know they decide to keep dating, but not have children together.

It did strike me as weird, but I believe it was supposed to act as an allegory for this Texas-Mexico border relationship with a common parentage, that it is weird but it exists and is not going away, so a way needs to be found to deal with it.

All along the way

It may have felt like a weird direction to go when -- in talking about feelings of peace and security -- I suddenly turned to apocalypse and house fire.

My background with years of concentration on emergency preparedness makes me likely to think about worst case scenarios anyway, but also, I have had some pretty big losses of data.

While I have a few times lost physical notes, most of my data losses have been electronic files. That has included photos, journals, screenplays, novels, and pretty much every other writing project I've ever done, as well as some notes that I had saved for future projects.

Sadly, I am still not that great about backing up data.

For some things it just ended up being okay that they were gone. I don't generally go back to old journals. The experience of going through and writing them is very important, but then I have had the experience.

That is kind of true of the photos also, except that maintaining the travel blog has also become an important part of the process. Blogging about travel makes me to go through and look over the photos critically for which ones I like best and which ones are most representative of the place. Then the blog becomes an additional record I can share. Again, a terrible apocalypse or massive server destruction might wipe them out, but I will still have had the experience of the travel and processing of the travel into a shareable form.

The internet has served as a backup for many of the other projects . The 6 page screenplays and the comic script can be found on various sites. Some short fiction has been preserved on the blog. My self-published novels can still be found on Amazon, and I could still log in and print copies if I wanted to.

The two sequels (one in each series) that I started are gone, along with all of the screenplays except one that I happened to have attached to an e-mail. 

That was a worse loss. It felt like there was no point in writing again. 

Not long after that computer crash, someone asked me if I had been writing. I said I hadn't, meaning working on anything for sale, even though there still had been some blogging and journal writing.

It was harder to admit,  because it was someone who was always telling me I was such a great writer. I had to grapple with what part of my identity that was going to be. Here's where I landed:

I don't regret anything that I have written. Those experiences, and the knowledge and feelings they unlocked were important for me. I have experienced flow writing them. I can still slip into those worlds sometimes.

It is not how I am going to make a living. In fact, when I was trying to write for profit I wrote worse, because it hurried me and added anxiety.

Maybe part of my absolute hatred of asking for money is that if I am producing something that transmits knowledge well or helps shed clarity, I don't want to charge for that. 

Maybe that is why the computer had to crash; because the fact that I was getting nowhere financially wasn't obvious enough to permanently dash my hopes. Maybe it was a hard lesson that was needed.

I don't regret that I have written.

Some of them have moments where they touched people who needed them. Since a lot of them still reside out there on the web, maybe they will do some good again.

Right now, blogging is important for me. 

I believe I will eventually write books again.

It seems more likely that they will be non-fiction, and quite clear that they will not be a source of income.

That is fine, as long as I have some kind of income. 

Beyond that, there is a lot I don't know. I know some things to work on right now, and then I believe the rest will follow.

There is one more way in which I am thinking about worst-case scenarios. One more post, and then I believe I will change the subject.