This was written about eight years ago. I think it is better than the one that got published....Phil, you out there, buddy?
Thirty-Five
It just happens. You can't stop it. Delay it perhaps, but not stop it completely. You can deny it and resist it. You can squeeze your eyes shut tightly and wish it away, you can try to trick yourself into believing it will never happen to you. But it does, eventually. No matter how hard you may fight it or try to ignore it.
So, what is this mysterious "IT" of which I speak? This unstoppable force of nature? This fact of life, this inevitable state of being which many have tried to deny or at least delay, but few have succeeded? Oh, it's no laughing matter, no little pesky gnat nipping at your cheek, in which case one forceful, well-aimed slap would rid you of it for good, hardly so. It is more like a giant swarm of bees descending upon you, making you feel helpless and perhaps a wee bit apprehensive.
I hear you chuckling to yourself, shaking your head perhaps. Surely "IT" can't be that bad or that pervasive, whatever "IT" happens to be. Well, my friend, I have proof positive "IT" is indeed pervasive, even universal.
My first clue came to me through the most unlikely (and also unlikable!) source: a telemarketer. Actually she was taking a survey, but she bothered me unsolicited during dinner, she worked in a large call center (apparent by the buzzing, beeping, and many other voices I heard in the background), she was young, and probably making $7.00 an hour, so we can all agree: telemarketer. I usually don't respond very positively to these types of people, but she was pleasant, smart, and quick. She promised her survey would only take two minutes, and promised not to try to sell me anything. My first clue to the big "IT" came in her first question: what is your age? There were categories I had to try to fit myself into (something I have struggled with repeatedly in my life); under 18, 18 - 24, 25 - 34, 35 - something which I don't even remember, I was so stunned and frankly mortified by these categories. Now I'm not completely daft, I majored in Advertising in university, so I'm familiar with demographics and such, but I suppose the business of living life, and especially the busy-ness of raising two kids who are 19.5 months apart had kept this information out of the forefront of my mind for a while. Anyway, back to the telemarketing survey. It was 30 days before my 35th birthday at the time. What was I to do? Go ahead and take the little 30 day jump and answer "35" or answer "25-34," which was my chronological age at the time. I felt I was a completely different person than I had been at 25; not a thing I could or would want to find in common with my 25-year-old self. However, these demographics are based on hard cold facts, not feelings, so I answered "34."
But it still blew me away. I mean, 30 days from that day I would be in a whole different freaking category, for goodness' sake. It took me a few days to digest and process that whole episode. In the past, my 29th birthday had been the only one to bother me, but all the birthdays before and since had truly been celebrations. "Yahoo, I made it this far! Yippee, I'm still alive!" But this 35 thing, this whole-new-different-category thing, really got me thinking and, I have to admit, stressing a little about it also.
More proof positive of "IT?" Insurance rates. My automobile insurance rates dropped significantly after my 35th birthday. Since my spouse at the time was 8 years younger than I, this was a fact with which I taunted and teased him any chance I could. Hurry up and get older, would you? You're costing us way too much in insurance premiums!
So what little secret do telemarketing and insurance companies have, what is this universal life mystery that they seem to have unlocked, which they seem to take for granted while it sneaks up on the unsuspecting rest of us and bites us in the ass? Indeed, most of us are blissfully oblivious, perhaps slightly in denial, but mostly unconsciously and truly unaware while we go about our daily lives that "IT" is creeping up on us and will soon...well, bite us in the ass, basically.
It is...drumroll, please...the answer to the mystery question is...brace yourself, are you ready? We all get older. And by "older" I mean not the mere passing of years, crossing the days off the calendar, the obvious inevitable chronological aging process that all of us experience. What I'm trying to get at is, and this may come as a big shock to some of you, we really do grow and change and - gasp - mature. It is amazing but true, and I hesitate to tell anyone this, but I also have proof from my personal life as well, not just universal stuff like telemarketing demographics and insurance rates.
This is difficult for me, admitting this little secret to friends, much less a large group of strangers. You have to understand my background to get why: through most of my 20's I was struggling desperately, and most of the time succeeding, to be "cool." And by "cool" I mean not the kind of cool that would make you say, "Wow, she's really great. I want to take her home to meet my family." More like the kind of cool that would make you say, "Wow, I wanna party with her, man." Cool on the surface, but not on the inside. Wearing ripped up jeans (size 4, I just had to throw that in) with holes in the butt. Hey, give me a break, it was the late 80's - early 90's, and I worked in a bar. I cleaned up on those nights I wore my ripped up jeans. Mucho casho-tola, bigtime bankroll, girlfriend raking it in...ok, enough of that. Let's just say that now I'm much more comfortable with the person I am on the inside not to feel a need to attract that much attention from the outside. Let's move on to this little-known secret from last Christmas that I'm hesitating to share, and considering the revelations from this paragraph, you'll easily see why.
I bought a Billy Gilman Christmas CD.
Fully recovered? Picked yourself up off the floor yet? For those of you that suffered the same type of tragic coolness that I did, you may stop the howls of laughter now. Really, you can.
Even better than the mere purchase of the CD, I thoroughly enjoy it, almost as much as my 7-year-old daughter. And even better than that, I truly, sincerely could care less what anybody, former tragic coolsters even, thinks of me or my musical choices.
That is such a liberating feeling and the best part of growing older. To be secure in your choices, musically or otherwise. To genuinely not give a rat's behind if someone else thinks you're not cool enough to be in their little club. To be secure enough to buy a Billy Gilman CD and admit to enjoying it...hey, that's pretty secure. When you're trying to play tragically cool, you fake that "I don't care what you think" attitude, but to actually feel it and live it is another thing entirely.
So please, put me in the 35 - 49's, the whole new different category. I'll gladly go. I'm comfortable, secure, even happy there.
Monday, July 21, 2008
They Just Don't Get It
This was written in 1999, right before the 2000 Census. It was first published in the webzine interracialfamily.com, and then again in the print 'zine Rag. Not sure if either still exist today!
They Just Don’t Get It
And let me preface this by saying that I am not an “Us vs. Them” type of person. Not a big fan of separation and division. I’m usually a “one love, one heart, one world,” let’s all join hands around a bigass bonfire and sing and dance to Bob Marley’s “One Love” type of a gal. I really, really am.
But they just don’t get it.
And it’s really starting to piss me off. Big time. After all, are we not smack in the middle of the first year of the first century of a NEW MILLENIUM, for goodness sake? The year 2000 is finally here, and we bi- or multi-racial folks are still forced to choose just one race on government and education forms, and most job applications too. I’ll never forget my experience in university (granted, this was about twelve or thirteen years ago, but I’m afraid not much has progressed since then) in the Financial Aid office. I filled out the required form and was handing it back to the white-haired old lady on the other side of the counter. I had created my own box, checked it, wrote “other” to the side of it, and in parentheses put “Eurasian.” She just stared blankly at me and said, “That’s not one of the choices,” to which I replied, “But that’s what I am.” Her blank stare turned into a frustrated stare, complete with pursed lips. She repeated that my ethnicity was not one of the acceptable choices, and as I felt the blood rushing to my cheeks, I angrily grabbed the form from her and crossed out what I had put, checked the “Caucasian” box, shoved the form back across the counter, and went on my way.
A little background on me: I was born in England of a white English father and a Korean mother. I had the good fortune to travel extensively during my upbringing, but was raised mostly in these United States. I’ve lived all over the States, but I have my first memories of Buffalo, NY, (brrrrr), then later Northbrook, a suburb of Chicago, then even later, during my junior high years, Missouri City, TX, a burb of Houston. I also had the wonderful opportunity to live overseas, Yokohama, Japan; Seoul, Korea; and the beautiful tropical island of Singapore.
It has been a long journey, but I have finally come to accept my dual heritage and even embrace it. In my childhood growing up in the States, I just wanted to be a normal kid and blend in, not stand out in any way. I would have been happy to just choose “Caucasian” and leave it at that. But now I feel that to do so would be to dishonor my mother, and by the same token if I were to choose only “Asian,” I would be dishonoring my father. I have a term that I’m very comfortable with, Eurasian. So why can’t the governmental and educational institutions of this country accept me and my dual ethnicity, along with the millions of others like me, and just get over what ever hang-ups they have about it and create a “Bi- or Multi-racial” category on the 2000 Census form? And all the other forms as well. I really think they have made a big mistake by choosing not to include such a category on the Census. And I think there are going to be a lot of angry and hurt people, like myself, who are forced to pigeonhole themselves or their children into one little box, when really that little box represents only half of who they are.
People have told me that one reason that the powers-that-be are so reluctant to change things is because of funding. That certain groups will give money to your organization/school/university if you have X% of Blacks, Hispanics, Native Americans, or whatever the case may be. Fine. I’m okay with that. If the Association of Really Wealthy Young Black Engineers wants to donate a huge sum of money to the Engineering department of Anywhere College, because Anywhere College just happened to give scholarships to promising young Black students from the inner city, GREAT! Let them do it. But here’s the thing. Stanley Smith (work with me here, please) just happens to be young, from the inner city, and wants to be an engineer. He is bi-racial, half black and half white. Why should he be forced to choose? IT IS UP TO HIM! And to think that he may loose out on that scholarship because he wishes to honor both his mother and his father, it boggles the mind.
So what’s the answer?
Change the forms.
Too expensive, too time consuming. Maybe. So what? This is an issue, and it’s not going to go away, and with the number of mixed-race marriages quadrupling since the 1970’s, it’s only going to get bigger and bigger. Besides, everything is done by computer these days. How difficult would it be to get a few computer programmers into the Office of the Census and add a “Bi- or Multi-racial” category under the ones that are already there? If they’re still so concerned about funding (let’s not forget Stanley) or other issues, then why don’t they give the person filling out the form a blank under the “Bi- or Multi-racial” box, and let them write in what they feel is appropriate? For example, I would check the “Bi- or Multi-racial” box and under it write in “Asian and Caucasian,” Stanley would check the same box and write in “Black and Caucasian.”
If that is what he chooses to do, if that is how he chooses to identify himself. I cannot speak for him.
Nor do I like others speaking for me.
They Just Don’t Get It
And let me preface this by saying that I am not an “Us vs. Them” type of person. Not a big fan of separation and division. I’m usually a “one love, one heart, one world,” let’s all join hands around a bigass bonfire and sing and dance to Bob Marley’s “One Love” type of a gal. I really, really am.
But they just don’t get it.
And it’s really starting to piss me off. Big time. After all, are we not smack in the middle of the first year of the first century of a NEW MILLENIUM, for goodness sake? The year 2000 is finally here, and we bi- or multi-racial folks are still forced to choose just one race on government and education forms, and most job applications too. I’ll never forget my experience in university (granted, this was about twelve or thirteen years ago, but I’m afraid not much has progressed since then) in the Financial Aid office. I filled out the required form and was handing it back to the white-haired old lady on the other side of the counter. I had created my own box, checked it, wrote “other” to the side of it, and in parentheses put “Eurasian.” She just stared blankly at me and said, “That’s not one of the choices,” to which I replied, “But that’s what I am.” Her blank stare turned into a frustrated stare, complete with pursed lips. She repeated that my ethnicity was not one of the acceptable choices, and as I felt the blood rushing to my cheeks, I angrily grabbed the form from her and crossed out what I had put, checked the “Caucasian” box, shoved the form back across the counter, and went on my way.
A little background on me: I was born in England of a white English father and a Korean mother. I had the good fortune to travel extensively during my upbringing, but was raised mostly in these United States. I’ve lived all over the States, but I have my first memories of Buffalo, NY, (brrrrr), then later Northbrook, a suburb of Chicago, then even later, during my junior high years, Missouri City, TX, a burb of Houston. I also had the wonderful opportunity to live overseas, Yokohama, Japan; Seoul, Korea; and the beautiful tropical island of Singapore.
It has been a long journey, but I have finally come to accept my dual heritage and even embrace it. In my childhood growing up in the States, I just wanted to be a normal kid and blend in, not stand out in any way. I would have been happy to just choose “Caucasian” and leave it at that. But now I feel that to do so would be to dishonor my mother, and by the same token if I were to choose only “Asian,” I would be dishonoring my father. I have a term that I’m very comfortable with, Eurasian. So why can’t the governmental and educational institutions of this country accept me and my dual ethnicity, along with the millions of others like me, and just get over what ever hang-ups they have about it and create a “Bi- or Multi-racial” category on the 2000 Census form? And all the other forms as well. I really think they have made a big mistake by choosing not to include such a category on the Census. And I think there are going to be a lot of angry and hurt people, like myself, who are forced to pigeonhole themselves or their children into one little box, when really that little box represents only half of who they are.
People have told me that one reason that the powers-that-be are so reluctant to change things is because of funding. That certain groups will give money to your organization/school/university if you have X% of Blacks, Hispanics, Native Americans, or whatever the case may be. Fine. I’m okay with that. If the Association of Really Wealthy Young Black Engineers wants to donate a huge sum of money to the Engineering department of Anywhere College, because Anywhere College just happened to give scholarships to promising young Black students from the inner city, GREAT! Let them do it. But here’s the thing. Stanley Smith (work with me here, please) just happens to be young, from the inner city, and wants to be an engineer. He is bi-racial, half black and half white. Why should he be forced to choose? IT IS UP TO HIM! And to think that he may loose out on that scholarship because he wishes to honor both his mother and his father, it boggles the mind.
So what’s the answer?
Change the forms.
Too expensive, too time consuming. Maybe. So what? This is an issue, and it’s not going to go away, and with the number of mixed-race marriages quadrupling since the 1970’s, it’s only going to get bigger and bigger. Besides, everything is done by computer these days. How difficult would it be to get a few computer programmers into the Office of the Census and add a “Bi- or Multi-racial” category under the ones that are already there? If they’re still so concerned about funding (let’s not forget Stanley) or other issues, then why don’t they give the person filling out the form a blank under the “Bi- or Multi-racial” box, and let them write in what they feel is appropriate? For example, I would check the “Bi- or Multi-racial” box and under it write in “Asian and Caucasian,” Stanley would check the same box and write in “Black and Caucasian.”
If that is what he chooses to do, if that is how he chooses to identify himself. I cannot speak for him.
Nor do I like others speaking for me.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)