The People

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January 21, 2011 | 3:53 PM | By

Tiger Mothers, Black Sons

Flickr: Vearl Brown

Literally, a tiger mother.

Now reading: “How to Raise a Model Minority. “Tiger Mother” Amy Chua is right about one thing: Assimilation is the enemy of achievement for minorities in America“, via The Root:

“We gotta get out of here.”

My friend Allison was talking about the city we both live in, Washington D.C., where she and her husband were typical black strivers trying to do right by the race. Couple of kids, a house, advanced degrees, professional careers. Model minorities.

Allison and her husband were thriving professionally but felt suffocated by the U.S. education system, backlash against the Obama election, guns at town hall meetings, the inexplicably enduring public presence of a failed Alaska governor, the dueling Beck and Sharpton rallies — the nastiness that settled over us like an angry, evil cloud.

So where to? Maybe they wanted to join the bourgie reverse migration down South? “Mozambique … ,” she said. “Maybe Venezuela. We haven’t decided yet.”

Huh? Crazy talk! But I couldn’t fault her for wanting to flee the country. My son, an athletic bookworm, was having a rough year when we heard an NPR report in the car about black boys failing in schools. There was a long, uncomfortable silence as I searched for but did not find the words to say, “But they don’t mean you!” without denying him pride in his racial identity…

FILED UNDER: The People, Children, Immigrants, Race and Class
January 20, 2011 | 4:20 PM | By

The Privilege of Prioritizing Organic Food

Flickr: ehpien

Farmer's Market, Dupont Circle.

Writing about Walmart earlier today reminded me of something I’ve been meaning to discuss on DCentric; I had an eye-opening experience at the beginning of the year, and all I could think about was “Race and class! Race and class!”, as it was happening. Despite my ethnicity, I’m not a huge fan of yoga, but I heard from a trusted friend that a local yogi was known for holding a workshop that helped people go beyond making resolutions. The all-day event included stuff one does on a rectangular mat, nutrition advice, life coaching, art and a vegetarian brunch.

I went and I have to agree, it was restorative and inspiring, so much so that I didn’t even mind twisting my body like a pretzel while trying to remember to breathe. What stands out to me most, however, is the nutrition-focused portion of the programming. While I expected to hear about the virtues of organic produce and embracing healthier diets which had few or no animal products, I did not expect for race and class to collide during the Q + A period, which came right after a recitation of the “dirty dozen”, or the list of produce that is most affected by pesticides.

Since I keep mentioning race, I’ll disclose that I was impressed that a quarter of the attendees were women of color; basically, it was me holding it down for Asian-America plus five African-American women.

One of them raised her hand, tentatively.

“Thank you so much for this information,” she began. “It’s so worrisome…all these chemicals and pesticides in our food. I would like to be healthier by eating organically but…it’s so expensive. Do you have any advice for dealing with that?” She looked hopeful; her hand was poised over her notebook, pen aquiver, ready to jot down wise words which would not come.
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FILED UNDER: The People, Food, Privilege, Race and Class
January 18, 2011 | 12:37 PM | By

Shaw, Gentrification and Youth Violence, via People’s District

Flickr: Justin DC

Rainbow over Shaw.

I’ve mentioned People’s District on DCentric before, but I want to point you towards that excellent project again, because of their Friday post, from a D.C. citizen named Willette, who lives in Shaw:

“My eyes have seen so many changes in the neighborhood. All of the buildings and people done changed. Now, they make us think that Shaw is going to be the next Georgetown. I guess that means that a lot of us will be pushed out. That may help the neighborhood, but it won’t really help all of kids on the corners who don’t have nothing. Don’t matter it they are in Shaw or you move ‘em somewhere else, they are still going to be hanging out on the corner with no opportunities.

“Because I work, live, and raise my kids in this community, I see this stuff everyday. Kids should feel like they can do anything in the world, but many of these kids can’t read or write. Some kids will only get one meal a day at school. Some kids get caught up and become offenders. Then, they find themselves on the street as teenagers and no one wants to give them a chance. All the time, kids be coming to me saying, ‘Ms. Willette, I just want a chance.’ Many of them won’t get it because of a mistake.

“When we talk about violence in our communities, a lot of it comes from these kids with no hope or opportunities…Some people here want to just give up and let that stuff take over. Seniors will stay in the house and parents won’t let their kids out to play. That is not a way to live. We can’t let violence destroy our communities. I decided to give back in my own way by organizing a project called Safe Streets. I took some of the kids in the community and gave them a back pack, notebook, school uniform, and a pair of shoes. Many of these kids had nothing and no one to take care of them. Giving them these little things gave them some hope. I did it three times, and got people like the mayor and police chief involved. It was really successful and I want to keep doing it because people in the community keep asking me to.

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FILED UNDER: The People, Children, Gentrification, Race and Class, Shaw
January 10, 2011 | 10:30 AM | By

The Georgetown Student who was in Tucson

Flickr: SearchNetMedia

A sign promoting the "Congress on Your Corner" event that Rep. Giffords was hosting on Saturday.

Alex Villec was three feet from Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords, his former boss, when she was shot along with nineteen others on Saturday, in Tucson, Arizona. Via Vox Populi:

Like most students home on break, Alex Villec (COL ’13) decided to spend his time visiting friends back home. Villec—a former Washington and district office intern for Representative Gabrielle Giffords—assisted in running the “Congress on Your Corner” event yesterday in his hometown of Tucson because he wanted to visit friends he had made while serving as an intern.

As Villec checked constituents in at the event, Jared Loughner, the alleged shooter, came up to him and asked to speak to the congresswoman.

Villec told Loughner that he would have to go to the back of the line and wait about twenty minutes before he could talk to Giffords. After a few minutes, Loughner left the back of the line and started toward the congresswoman.

“He was intent when he came back,” Villec told the Arizona Daily Star. “I didn’t see his gun, but it was clear who he was going for. He was going for the congresswoman.”

FILED UNDER: The People, Hoyas
January 6, 2011 | 2:48 PM | By

A Tale of Two DCentric Comments

Flickr: amberley johanna

A sign from the Rally to Restore Sanity which seemed apposite for this post, as well.

My post from December 28th, “More on Brown-on-Black Racism” may be the most “popular” piece I’ve ever written on DCentric, if we’re using comments and retweets as metrics. I am shocked (shocked!) and elated that it has nine whole comments, and I want to take this opportunity to thank everyone for their contributions before wading in to the discussion and making a request for mutual respect. You’ve done a great job of being courteous to each other and I’d love to see that continue. My ultimate goal for this website is for it to become a trusted space for civil discussion of issues which usually inspire incivility.

Let’s look at one comment from that thread, from reader TL:

Oh how truly good it is to be Black. Black as night and no one can join us.

Of course, I don’t know AJ and I’ll assume she is a well meaning Indian woman. But when she’s not blogging, she’s probably out in the world being part of the problem. Reality: Asians, Indians and Hispanics generally want to be white. “Don’t say that!” “That’s ridiculous!” Behind closed doors (sometimes in public) the majority is the group they want align with. No problem. It’s survival to want to ride with whoever has the power. It’s a little gutless, but hey tough choices to be made in this life.

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FILED UNDER: The People, DCentric
January 5, 2011 | 10:40 AM | By

What’s Needed: “a large attitude adjustment on both sides”

Flickr: Rhys

Shaw, D.C.

Yesterday, I wrote about caustic reactions to the news that more affordable housing is coming to Shaw. One of you left a comment in response to my post that deserves to be seen:

I think we are seeing here is the very real balkanization of urban society that stymies us. I commiserate with both sides, there needs to be affordable housing in the city, and yet it comes fraught with so many problems that makes it unpleasant for the neighbors.

I recently saw a project about The Frederick Douglass Dwellings in Anacostia, that was public housing built in the WWII boom. There were many two parent families and a community center in which the ladies who ran it really took an interest in their charges. They didn’t know they were “poor,” and there was a strong sense of community and family.

There are so many problems here: it’s true that many urban blacks that I have encountered blame their problems on the system, “the plan”, without seeking solutions, but I find this mimicked in modern society too, where many people blame “the media” without questioning their role in propagating a media more concerned with the upcoming royal nuptials than the minutae of the tax code. People do need to start taking responsibility for themselves, their knowledge base, their support of leadership, and their desires to meet and understand their neighbors. Start community watches. Volunteer with big brothers. Don’t accept or make excuses. There will need to be a large attitude adjustment on both sides for anything to change.

FILED UNDER: The People, Affordable Housing, Gentrification, Race and Class, Racial Divide
January 3, 2011 | 4:58 PM | By

Losing a Home Thanks to a Meter

Flickr: vpickering

This is not a Ford 500 in Columbia Heights. It is a Lincoln in Georgetown. I have Flickr-failed you!

Once I left my building and tried to hail a cab, I realized it was too cold to be outside without a scarf or gloves. I’ve lived here for 12 years, but my California roots are easily misled by bright sun. I was extra relieved when a cab driver waiting next to CVS waved me over to his “new-fashioned” cab. When I think of a “Taxi”, I think of massive American sedans, like Crown Victorias, their Mercury-twins and old Lincolns. Any smaller, more modern car, whether it be a Toyota Camry or a Ford Taurus feels “new”. This cab was so “new” I couldn’t even identify the model. I slid in.

“Boy, am I glad to see you. I’m cold!”

He smiled and quietly asked, “Where to?”

I told him my destination and looked at the front, passenger-side visor. For once, it was flipped downwards and the driver’s name and photograph were perfectly visible. Nine times out of ten, when I am in a cab, I notice (with great annoyance) that such crucial information is deliberately obscured by other papers or cards, paper-clipped on top of helpful details like the name of the cab operator. This name looked French.

“D’où venez-vous?”, I asked hopefully. I usually don’t have a language in common with Cabbies in D.C. besides English; in a different city to our North, whenever I splurged on a big yellow ride, I practiced everything from Punjabi to Greek .

The question was a catalyst for transformation in the front seat. The man who had cordially agreed to make a left on Park, and take Reno road to blah, blah, blah was brought to life.

“I am from Haiti!” he exulted. He did not ask me how I knew French, which filled me with childish delight. I looked like I might speak French! Zut alors! He did ask me, “How did you know?”

“Your name. Jean P____.”

“Yes! That is my name!” He sat up straighter in his seat, eyes twinkling in the rear view.

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FILED UNDER: The People, Immigrants, Money, Taxicab Conversations
December 29, 2010 | 10:33 AM | By

D.C.’s Top Tweeps 2010 and the Digital Divide

Flickr: Alykat

Sculpture in Congress Heights by Anne Allardyce

Over at Congress Heights on the Rise, East of the River blogger The Advoc8te takes issue with the “popularity contest” that The Washington Post is hosting for D.C.’s Twitter royalty in “Why I won’t be voted “DC’s Best Blogger” in the DCTweeps Contest “:

How can you expect voters to participate in the election process when they don’t have the basic tools to participate? How can you vote in a contest if you don’t even know it’s going on?

As a blogger, a social media consultant, and as someone who spends about 75% of her waking hours online, I understand the ease and convenience of holding these types of contests using online surveys and Twitter. The technology is here to stay, no doubt about it. However, in communities such as ours where a good portion of the population still doesn’t have access to reliable and/or affordable Internet service and where most homes do not have a computer or access to one, a big part of the population becomes disenfranchised, even in purely entertainment contests such as this one. How do we expect residents who exist within the confines of the digital void to participate outside of it? How do we expect residents from outside of the community to learn about what’s inside the community if there is such a digital divide?

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FILED UNDER: The People, Digital Divide, Privilege, Race and Class, Social Media
December 28, 2010 | 4:31 PM | By

More on Brown-on-Black Racism

Flickr: Chaymation

My “DMV Masala“-post– which was about my interaction with an African-American cab driver who was interested in my ethnicity because her own niece was half-Indian– inspired four of you to comment! That’s no small feat here at DCentric, where I’m more likely to hear crickets than reader reactions– I kid, I kid. I hear silence, not bugs. Anyway, one comment from American RogueDC deserved to be highlighted:

I remember very well having my heart broken by a co-worker (an Indian woman) whom I thought was a friend. We had worked together for more than ten years. One day, while viewing some photographs she was sharing of her female relatives taken during her baby-shower (I in fact had just given her my gift for the baby), I said, “You should introduce me to some of your nieces.” Her reply was simple, “You are too dark!” Until that moment, my being an African-American man who is only slightly darker in skin tone than her had never “seemed” to be a problem.

How painful, to be so crudely and immediately rejected by a long-time friend. The first thing I wondered was whether the woman was first- or second-generation.

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FILED UNDER: The People, DCentric, Immigrants, Race and Ethnicity, Racial Divide
December 27, 2010 | 5:01 PM | By

“Did you have a nice Christmas?”

Flickr: Mr. T in DC

Christmas tree in Columbia Heights.

I stood at the customer service counter, wondering if anyone would notice me amid the shopping carts and baskets which surrounded me, each heaped with spurned gifts, returned merchandise that needed to be put-back. The lights were already dim in this part of the store, a testament to how slow my normally chaotic neighborhood had become due to the threat of snow. After several minutes, a tall, striking young employee approached me to ask if I needed help. I said that I needed to make a return.

Wordlessly, he rounded the carts and positioned himself behind the counter. I handed him my receipt and he scanned it, then reached for the tchotchke I was returning. He tossed it in to a giant bin behind him without looking. “$21 will go back on your card. Thank you.”

“Thank you,” I replied.

“Did you have a nice Christmas?”, he mindlessly asked.

And because I have no boundaries, I replied, “I don’t really celebrate it anymore. Some years ago, my dad went in to a coma on the 23rd of December and passed away on the 29th. We buried him on the 31st. So the holidays just haven’t been the same after that.” My cheeks were hot by the time my explanation trailed off awkwardly. I should’ve just said, “Yes, thanks for asking!” and walked out.

My answer had snapped him out of his exhaustion, haze, reverie. “That’s deep.”

“Do you think you’ll ever celebrate it again?”, he asked. I stared at him, and for the first time, I really saw him. He was too pretty for retail. He looked like he should be the supporting actor on a sitcom, the one-liner-spouting son with an easy smile, filling out a fake nuclear family on some set in L.A. I had noticed him before, but only in the most cursory way– he stood out from the other employees. While they shuffled, slouched and grumbled, his posture was flawless. While they layered tee-shirts and sagged their pants, he always wore a designer crewneck sweater and a trim, shiny belt with a giant French logo for a belt buckle. The latter could’ve been a fake, but if it was, it was a great one. No fraying threads or tarnished metal in sight. He took his appearance and his comportment seriously.

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FILED UNDER: The People, Columbia Heights, Gun Violence, Race and Class, Teens