I Still Can't Breathe

 I still can’t breathe 

I can’t breathe because I’ve exhausted my breath trying to explain the pain, anger, sorrow of many blacks and people of color in this country. 

I can’t breathe because I’m choked up on tears trying to find the ways to explain to my son that he’ll have extra challenges in life due to the color of his skin. 

I can’t breathe because I know that talk will include “the talk” on what to do and how to behave if he encounters the wrong kind of law enforcement. 

I can’t breathe because the weight of the old guard is resting heavily on the chest of a younger generation that has experienced too much and is speaking out for change. 

I can’t breathe because that battle has unfortunately and unjustly claimed too many lives of those seeking change and those that signed up to try and make our streets safer. 

I can’t breathe because my mind is conflicted and my heart is hurting when I see the division between family and friends over something that should just be human decency. 

I can’t breathe because my last breath was used to say I love this country but it needs to change.

Where I Stand

Where I Stand

My entire life I have struggled with my racial identity. I grew up in a small, rural town that was predominately white. Growing up as a mixed-race kid, half black and half white, I didn’t quite understand the nuances of my racial complexity until middle school. Up until that point I just went along as any other kid, a little oblivious to how society views people of color and just assuming that everybody was the same on the inside. Obviously, it dawned on me that all of the kids in my school weren’t the same, we all looked different, but deep down everyone seemed the same. It really started to hit me in middle school when  I started to be called brillow pad, nappy head, nappy hair, etc by white kids that didn’t know or understand how a black person’s hair grew out. On the other side, the few black kids in my school would also call me the whitest black kid that they knew. As you can tell, I’m getting input from both sides of my racial identity. At this point with becoming aware of the differences of being of color and being white, I become more confused as ever with where I identify.

I’ve remained silent, not because I haven’t had things to say, but because I’ve been having a hard time processing my emotions, my feelings, my experiences and putting them down on paper. I want to help add another voice to the struggle, to help educate those that have not seen or experienced systemic racism and profiling. For the last 20 years, I’ve kept this inside, I’ve gone with the ebbs and flows of being bi-racial, I’ve lived with the stigmas that come with having darker skin, I’ve utilized some of the privileges that have come with being half white, but with all that is going on in this country at the moment, right now is the time to show where I stand, how I identify, why it is important for me to overcome my struggle and help speak out for those that haven’t found their voice yet.

As I find my thoughts, my voice, my pen, I realize it is the fear, the angst, the sorrow, and the hope that push me to write. I think to my past and how many times I’ve been called the “N” word, I think how many times I’ve been pulled over (both just and unjust) and think how those interactions with law enforcement could have gone different. I think about how many times I’ve been profiled or followed around department stores by security and asked to have my bags checked. Never in my life have I been more fearful to walk through my neighborhood and wonder if anybody thinks I’m being suspicious or if I fit “the description”. This isn’t a way to live, and I am saying this as someone who is half white. Growing up I was taught the differences between right and wrong, but it never sunk in that because of my skin color even doing the right thing could still turn out wrong for me. It’s interesting to think about that maybe due to me being bi-racial and a little blissful ignorance that I never “had the talk” with my parents about what to do or say if I was pulled over because of the color of my skin. Thinking back over the last few years with the multiple killings of black adults and children by law enforcement I realize it is more blissful ignorance than anything. My heart goes out to all of those parents that have had that talk with their children and still have lost their loved ones.

I have had close friends ask me how I’m feeling with everything that is going on and what my reactions are to people claiming they aren’t racist because of this and that reason. I’ve had people ask why do Black Lives Matter only when their lives are taken by law enforcement and not when blacks kill blacks. Why do only Black Lives Matter when all lives should matter? George Floyd and Rayshard Brooks were both bad guys and had been in jail before so why are they being patronized as saints? I believe these are all distractions from bigger issues that are plaguing society. People are so personally concerned with being labeled a racist that they are missing the bigger problem of a racist system that is and has been looming over the country. Yes, people have had bad pasts but their pasts should not lead to unjust deaths. Yes, there is black on black crime, but do not think that those lives lost did not matter, mothers grieve, fathers mourn, black communities come together to pay respects for those lives. When those lives are taken, they are not taken by a system that has inherently targeted people of color, a system that has time and time again shown prejudice and bias. When these lives are taken, they are made public, they reach all black communities, they reach all black mothers, fathers, sons, daughters. All lives that are taken unjustly matter, but right now Black Lives Matter.

I don’t want this to come across as a call to arms against law enforcement officers. For as long as I remember, I’ve wanted to be a police officer, I’ve wanted to serve the community, be a change in the way that policing is done. As I digress, I do have admiration for officers, more importantly those officers that stand up and protect the oath they took when they put on the uniform and adorned the badge, the officers that are there and present on your worst days. I want this to come across as an education and an eye opening that there is a systemic problem that needs to corrected.  

I find myself, today on June 19^th, Juneteenth, still conflicted but proud of my roots and black culture. I’m proud to stand up and finally voice my thoughts and my heart. I stand here with hope for all of the people of all colors that have stood up and spoken before me. I stand here for justice and peace and for equal treatment in every situation. I stand for not being silent anymore and standing for a long over due change.

My Experience Dating a Chinese Family (Part 2)

Part 1 of My Experience Dating a Chinese Family

As I mentioned, family played a major role in how we navigated the course of our relationship, basically it felt like we were using the old folded up map that my dad kept in the glovebox. For the first two years of our relationship, I didn’t get to know her family, mainly her parents, very well for a variety of reasons. To touch on this, stereotypes and traditional values were the driving factor for me not having a chance to meet and interact with my now soon to be in-laws. If you have friends of different races and cultures, especially ones that are very traditional in those cultures you may have seen or heard of a relationship racial hierarchy for whom a parent deems are acceptable for their children to date. Until I experienced this for myself, I believed the hierarchy was just something that my friends, even of different races, were making up. The hierarchy takes in factors of ethnicity, race, culture, and skin tone. Generally what was describe among my Korean, Vietnamese, and Japanese friends is that their parents want them to date, someone of the same ethnicity, if that doesn’t pan out then someone of the same race, and so on down the line. The further down the line and the darker the skin tone would equate to more disrespect for the child and more dislike for the significant other. Take into my account of being multiracial (Caribbean and Caucasian) and having light brown skin, I was closer to the bottom of the hierarchy.

Having mentioned that Lissa is very close to her family brings in the struggle of introducing me without upsetting the delicate balance of her family life. Lissa did not want to upset her parents or deal with the grief that would come along with introducing her new boyfriend to them. On the other side, she did not want to alienate me or put me in a difficult situation with her parents. The first year seemed to go by without incident but it was year two and three that I could sense the wear and tear. There were many nights when I could overhear arguments on the phone between Lissa and her mom; I could only assume they were arguing about me. Many of these arguments would lead to tears and solemnness. To say “the struggle is real”, would be an understatement. How do you console someone when you are directly and indirectly the cause of the issue? Not to take away anything from the struggle that Lissa was going through but my own internal struggle and plight were surmounting at the same time. I constantly sat there wondering if I wanted to stay in this situation and if I was really ready to have this be a part of my life forever. How do you find the inner resolve to say “I have to fight on because the relationship is worth it, yet I feel I’m in a bad situation, I’m disliked by my girlfriend’s parents because of a stereotype, and I don’t feel like I’m getting enough reassurances”? 

It Could Be Worse

More likely than not, you’ve experienced something bad, tragic, catastrophic, etc in your life. Right after the moment happens, your friends and family will try to sympathize or cheer you up and at some point, the phrase “it could be worse” will get tossed in. I have always found this phrase to be less than helpful when it is immediately blurted out when you are in the height of anger, disbelief, turmoil. I understand the intentions of trying to get people to see the silver lining and count their blessings in the given situation but what I don’t understand is why is that the first thing to be communicated?

Last night, I had my car broken into and a few personal items were stolen. The smashed window can be replaced and the stolen items, once I figure out what was taken, can eventually be replaced as well. That’s life, I get it. The thing that can’t be replaced is the sense of security, the belief that everybody has an ounce of human decency in them, and the violation of having your personal property destroyed. After feeling violated, and someone tells me “oh it could be worse” I just want to look at them and say, “yes they could of smashed two windows, sure it could be worse” or “yeah, I guess I could have had more valuable possessions in my car at the time” but what I really want to say is “just let me be mad for a few minutes”. Let me scream out obscenities until my nice elderly neighbor gets somewhat worried that a horror movie is being filmed next door. For the most part, join me in saying ridiculous things like “yeah I hope those darn thieves fall down the stairs and scrape their knees really bad”.

This is just an example of my own plight but the same sentiment is carried through for tragic events like an untimely death, a severe injury, an overdue payment, or an accidental purchase of Costco sized hair gel.  In these moments of temporary anguish, just let people be upset for a few minutes, let them grieve, let them vent and scream that the world is unfair before you chime in with all of the things that could have been worse. In the end, it’s nice to know people look out for you and want to remind you of things to be grateful and for that I am grateful.  

My Experience Dating A Chinese Family

(Part 1)

In a few short months, I will be getting married to my best friend Lissa. Five years ago when we first started dating, I only knew that I was getting into a relationship with a girl of Chinese descent. It took roughly 6 months to a year, basically the end of the “honeymoon phase” to understand some of the ins and outs of Lissa’s culture, family, and their traditional values. At this time is when I realized I was not dating just a Chinese girl but I was, in fact, dating a Chinese family.

Let me digress for a short moment and explain how I came to this realization. Traditionally, outside of Western culture, most family structures are made up of a Joint Family system. This system generally has numerous generations or dependents in the same family living under the same roof or same neighborhood. Influence and responsibility for the family are derived from the elders, (ie, grandparents, parents, aunts and uncles), down to the younger family members. This system of family differs from what myself and a general population of western culture adapted to which is a Nuclear Family. A Nuclear family is much smaller and consists of just parents and children in the household. The responsibility to teach and raise the children is solely on the parents.

Looking from the outside in, I can see the benefits of a Joint Family system; greater bonds, close proximity, tighter family values to name a few. Not to say these things aren’t prevalent in Western culture, but from my experience, they are not as great as what I have recently become a part of. Becoming part of this family was hard and I still struggle, at times, accepting how most decisions or actions are a family discussion rather than an individual’s call ,this makes decisions like buying a new car or couch a lot more complex than simply going to the store, finding one you like, and taking it home. The frequency of family gatherings also took me by surprise. I see my parents every few weeks, my grandparents were once a year, and my cousins maybe every few years, this is what I grew up with and considered the norm. It is no surprise that I was shocked to be having dinner once a week, lunch on the weekend, and one large family gathering seeming to happen every month. Five years into this relationship and I’m still adjusting. Family is a huge part of life and it plays a big key in our relationship.

Stay tuned for Part 2 of My Experience Dating A Traditional Chinese Family…….