@theauracle haha, I'll try to keep it low impact on us all! I just thought I'd ask your thoughts on an idea I've been turning around, that cultural appropriation is almost too abstract a term? Like, what are we really talking about when we talk about it? Are we really saying that you can steal an idea? That gets into territory that's murky, about ideas as property. I think for me, the two elements that really chafe me (when this happens to Jewish culture, I mean, or when I'm empathizing with Black friends or other cultures/creators that get attacked like this) is the erasure of the people who did the work/creation, and especially the erasure of their roots in their lived reality/experience/ history of their ancestors lived reality/experience. And then after erasure, it's the profiteering off that work, without those resources flowing back proportionately to the culture makers and creators. But you actually point a third point, that I think is crucial: the thief is actively also working against the culture that he's erasing and profiteering off of! He's still upholding white supremacy while selling songs that couldn't exist without Black culture or so on. Does that make sense?
TL;DR Appropriation Station is actually three little stations: Erasure, Profiteering, Conspiring Against The People
We decided to just use the pronouns that “go” with my kid’s genitals for a couple of reasons, but we’re trying to remember and continue advocating, to others but much more importantly, to them, that they can be anything they want, including trans if that is what they want and who they are. Even so, I find myself using gendered language in an overly familiar way that bugs me when I look at it through the lens of queerness and all I’ve learned from trans friends and family. Stuff like “thattaboy” and thinking fondly of them as “my son”, one in a long line of men unbroken back through my father’s father etc. Sentimental, and might even be harmless, but insidious. I’m trying to remember, this kid has the whole world in front of them, genders included. My job is to keep that world wide and beautiful and interesting and safe and fun and true for as long as possible, and let them make the choices, just as long as they don’t become a cop or a soldier. So I’m trying to shift my language. Instead of “my beautiful son” “my beautiful child” No “what a sweet boy” but “what a sweet baby.”
This is me trying to give my kid the whole world. Why should femininity or trans ness or non binary life be off the table, just cuz I’m using he/him?
@checkervest I'd love to see a gilded age costume drama where the heist is a repatriation of stolen exoticized treasure that's being shipped to like, the British Museum or the Metropolitan Museum of Art
A friend of Atenea's is the new head of the archive of the central committee of Jewish communities in Mexico. She and I are brainstorming projects I might be able to do with the archive's help. I'm excited!
I just read the dazzling poem “On Roads” by the Yiddish poet Ber Grin, in a stunning translation by Amelia Glaser. I can’t get over it. Grin’s reclamation of green in it, as both his own name and as a reclamation of the insult to “greenhorn” immigrants! To declare “Green is life!” I love it.
I don’t know if this was the first day of horrific gun violence since I became a parent, or if it’s just the first one I’ve noticed since the birth. I am thinking about how I want out, for me and my child. I want to go to another place, a place where this won’t happen.
No place is perfect. Mexico, where my wife’s family live and where I’m taking my child, has its own problems, some of them just as foolishly, ruthlessly violent (although much of that violence is also due to the intervention of the USA.)
But I’m sick of this place, the stochastic terrorism of it. I want out!
Ridiculous a calculation as it is, between losing my life to the sort of dangers that plague the lives of Mexicans and catching a bullet from some white supremacist gunman who the news will pretend is acting alone, I’d rather risk Mexico.
Impostor syndrome is hard with writing. I feel like I haven’t published enough, published in the ”right” places enough, that I’m not good enough. In translation, it is even harder, because it gets into the practice of it. Do I not know the language enough? Should I not need to look up this word? Did I do right by the original text/author/culture and time?