Admittedly, I'm not the most patient person in the world but I am outgoing and friendly, and I usually enjoy introducing myself to new people. Except for when I get one of the following questions about my work...if I never had to answer any of these ever again, I think I could die in peace.
1. So a Ph.D huh? What do you want to do with THAT?
What do you think I want to do with it? Cashier at Wal-Mart? Be your IT person? Sing on Broadway? There aren't a whole lot of options outside of academia (especially outside of STEM fields) so what else would does it seem likely that I'd want to do?
2. Oooo linguistics....how many languages do you speak?
The bane of career questions for most linguists...but I never get sick of being sick of answering it. I'll be answering this one for the rest of my life.
3. So will that actually pay money?
Thanks for your concern about my future finances, but I've got it under control.
4. So you basically study ebonics? I mean, why would anyone bother with THAT?
See: ignorance, racism, and Standard Language Ideology
5.You must be really smart, huh?
How the heck am I supposed to answer this without sounding like an arrogant jerk or a person completely devoid of self-esteem? Not that I spend a lot of time quoting bad movies, but see Natalie Portman's character in No Strings Attached for my perfect response: "Sometimes my neck gets sore...because my brain is so big".
Stay tuned for the (Personal) Questions I Wish Strangers Would Stop Asking Me
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
On Trayvon Martin, Biracialism and Who Suffers When We're Divided
About this article: http://open.salon.com/blog/chauncey_devega/2012/03/19/trayvon_martin_and_life_lessons_for_young_black_boys
I was originally just going to share this on my Facebook wall, but the feelings were too complicated. The author makes some excellent points about the culture that allowed Trayvon Martin to be murdered so callously:
"Whiteness and White privilege involve the luxury of being able to decide how, in what ways, and under what conditions, you will be allow yourself to be uncomfortable. White privilege also involves the luxury of not having to have a conversation with your kids about how to avoid being murdered by the cops because of your skin color. In many matters of life and death, white supremacy remains, in many ways, unchallenged. Black and brown folks, if they are responsible parents, cannot avoid such conversations with their children. The foot-dragging by the police in regards to the murder of Trayvon Martin reveals this ugly truth".
But she also goes to far in the process:
"By implication, young black and brown children must be made to understand that they are not "special," "biracial," or part of a racial buffer group that is going to be given "special" privileges because one of their parents is white. These "multiracial" children are some of the most vulnerable and tragic when they are finally forced to confront the particular challenges which come with being a young black boy or girl in American society. In post civil rights America, this notion is politically incorrect. Nonetheless, it remains true".
As a biracial (no quotes, please) person, I resent the idea that I somehow grew up feeling "special" or like "a racial buffer". I've been aware of my blackness since the first time my white mother plopped me down in a black salon where they attempted to "tame" my hair with toxic chemicals. I was 5, and this went on for 10 years. I was probably even aware of it before that, but I can't really remember. Since then, I could probably recount to you thousands of occasions where other people felt it was their duty to make damn sure I knew I was black. Asserting that mixed people are "vulnerable and tragic" when it comes to this type of challenge is not only incredibly offensive, it also distracts from the issue at hand. ALL brown and black people have the potential to be the target of this particular type of violence. Instead of sniping at each other about "who gets to be black", and "who has to be black", we'd do better to band together to stop this injustice from happening to each other.
I was originally just going to share this on my Facebook wall, but the feelings were too complicated. The author makes some excellent points about the culture that allowed Trayvon Martin to be murdered so callously:
"Whiteness and White privilege involve the luxury of being able to decide how, in what ways, and under what conditions, you will be allow yourself to be uncomfortable. White privilege also involves the luxury of not having to have a conversation with your kids about how to avoid being murdered by the cops because of your skin color. In many matters of life and death, white supremacy remains, in many ways, unchallenged. Black and brown folks, if they are responsible parents, cannot avoid such conversations with their children. The foot-dragging by the police in regards to the murder of Trayvon Martin reveals this ugly truth".
But she also goes to far in the process:
"By implication, young black and brown children must be made to understand that they are not "special," "biracial," or part of a racial buffer group that is going to be given "special" privileges because one of their parents is white. These "multiracial" children are some of the most vulnerable and tragic when they are finally forced to confront the particular challenges which come with being a young black boy or girl in American society. In post civil rights America, this notion is politically incorrect. Nonetheless, it remains true".
As a biracial (no quotes, please) person, I resent the idea that I somehow grew up feeling "special" or like "a racial buffer". I've been aware of my blackness since the first time my white mother plopped me down in a black salon where they attempted to "tame" my hair with toxic chemicals. I was 5, and this went on for 10 years. I was probably even aware of it before that, but I can't really remember. Since then, I could probably recount to you thousands of occasions where other people felt it was their duty to make damn sure I knew I was black. Asserting that mixed people are "vulnerable and tragic" when it comes to this type of challenge is not only incredibly offensive, it also distracts from the issue at hand. ALL brown and black people have the potential to be the target of this particular type of violence. Instead of sniping at each other about "who gets to be black", and "who has to be black", we'd do better to band together to stop this injustice from happening to each other.
Monday, March 19, 2012
On the R Train, and the Little Things
So I've been a little heartbroken lately, but when I was standing on the platform waiting for the R train today, I realized I was overly happy to see it when it came. You see, the R and I have a special relationship. It gets me on a level that no other train seems to.
Decide not to walk all the way home and instead duck into the subway out of the rain? The R is there for me.
Running late for some appointment and super nervous about it? The R will be there within 5 minutes.
Get lost somewhere in Brooklyn and for some reason can't read the map? The R always finds me.
When I was in high school, I heard a sermon once that was about living with an "attitude of gratitude". In that moment today, I considered what that really would mean. Obviously I'm grateful for the big things: food, clothing, shelter, waking up every day and doing what I love. But I'd like to spend more time being grateful for the little things, like the R train.
Decide not to walk all the way home and instead duck into the subway out of the rain? The R is there for me.
Running late for some appointment and super nervous about it? The R will be there within 5 minutes.
Get lost somewhere in Brooklyn and for some reason can't read the map? The R always finds me.
When I was in high school, I heard a sermon once that was about living with an "attitude of gratitude". In that moment today, I considered what that really would mean. Obviously I'm grateful for the big things: food, clothing, shelter, waking up every day and doing what I love. But I'd like to spend more time being grateful for the little things, like the R train.
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