On Unearned Power (of the white variety that black people have co-opted as their own *clap.clap.clap* [not a criticism, an adoration *iroll*]), Among Other Racist Shit, etc.

unearned power is exactly that

UNearned

&unearned power can never reign

because the wielder was not

forged in the ferocious fire of

EARNED POWER

&EARNED POWER develops over decades of proving one's self and one's reputation

that the reputation stands

that they are who they say they are

and that they do what they say they will do

&to think that we ought to bestow UNearned power upon someone

based off of the color of their skin

(cause that's how the whites have done it/do it)

and call it "diversity"

"equality"

&"inclusion"

is fucking capital-ARR Racist

of the whitest variety

eye'll give 'em something

tho

those whites and those blacks

they sure see the world in exactly that

*shivers*

^..^

Here's a dead giveaway that you're average (or below) ::

You imagine that High Achievers are "perfectionists," thus, you "walk on eggshells" around them because you think that they can't handle criticism (like the way that you can't handle criticism), and so, you believe that High Achievers are somehow so riddled with self-confidence that they are able to achieve so much...how?

An older [race redacted {cause eye've decided to no longer participate in the heavily Racist language utilized by black women on the internet who make and believe that everything, everything, boils down to race, when really, what everything, everything, actually boils down to is economic class, etc.}] woman used to say things like, "Oh, don't even try to tell her she's done anything wrong, or she will blow up at you," referring to me while we were sitting in our bosses' office discussing her terrible jobplace attitude and overall insubordination. And she's, quite frankly, the only person who has ever expressed this sort of view of my behavior, also, just fyi. The [race redacted] woman who came to retrain me, because the first [race redacted] woman who trained me left out a key piece of information that eye needed in order to do my job well even commented on the openness of my mind with regards to being retrained. 

Eye, obviously, thought that this assessment of needing to "walk on eggshells" around me was hilarious, because eyema High Achiever, and it was painfully obvious that the older [race redacted] woman was very shook by my arrival into her jobplace, etc. She viewed herself as doing the job well. I proved otherwise.

The races of the older [race redacted] woman and the [race redacted] woman who came to retrain me are, obviously, not the same. LOL!

The thing is, though, that the older [race redacted] woman revealed her own very-average intellect.

To think that a High Achiever is repulsed by criticism, critical feedback, people who are both capable and willing to point out flaws in their logic, is idiotic. You're a moron if this is how you think High Achievers achieve.

High Achievers are High Achievers because of the criticism and critical feedback and revelations in their flawed logic. 

The fact that low-achievers believe this way about High Achievers is, quite frankly, what makes you a low-achiever. As a low-achiever, criticism, or even the whiff of it, destroys you. You are wrecked by the idea that you are not perfect, that there are flaws that could be mended to make you a better person, etc., etc., &c.

BAHAHAHAHA!

Like, duh.

Ugh, it just must be like so fucking frustrating to be average. That's why you all stick together so tightly. I totally get it. Good news! You've got each other, y'all. Do it. Stick together like your life depends on it! (Cause it does, BAHAHAHAHA!)

^..^

 

Most people could not recognize a [race redacted] free-thinker if we punched them in the face

So, like, onward! 

Spend none of your precious [race redacted] time convincing anyone [race redacted] of anything

especially not the [race redacted] idiots!

^..^

And then it occurred to me, "Why do I value the opinion/approval of [race redacted] women? What [the fuck] have they ever done for my [race redacted] ass or for [race redacted] people? I don't fucking owe them shit. Goddamn." 

The clouds part, and I am free.

^..^

The two groups that represent

the Totality of Color

and its Total Void

have this in common

tote foesh

a Non-Asian mindset

On Lists &List-Making

"Whose list is this?" you wonder in whisper. &Where the fuck am I? your mind whispers. The list sits loose between your fingers; you read it again.

Maybe it's not me, you console yourself; It's a common name, you decide.

"But is it?" you ask aloud, &then you start pacing.

"It is, but it isn't," you work out, "Cause, like, is this my list or am I an item on this list?" You stop cause something's in your shoe. You wriggle the thing free.

"If it's my list, then someone slipped it in my pocket?" you ask nobody in particular as you are alone, in a cold, dark cave, lined in ice, lit by a small wood fire. But you don't remember ever acquiring this particular list, so, "If I'm a line item on this list, what the fuck?" you shout, incensed at the thought, your voice echoing, echoing, echoing in the hollow cave.

"And where the fuck even am I?" you realize. Maybe I'm dreaming? Goddamn. You reach your hand out to the fire, No, fire's hot. 

"But..." you realize, "I am not cold, and I feel like I should be cold?" And why don't I remember anything? "No, I do remember, except that I'm not sure I should say what I remember aloud or even think it in my mind," you admit as you look over your shoulder at me. "What?" I ask, innocent. "I can hear you," you insist. "Hear what?" I challenge. You roll your eyes, "You're doing it, right now!" "Doing what?!" "Narrating!" 

^..^

The sun shines bright on a beautiful spring day on the horizon of the older woman's living quarters upon The Orbital, and as the squirrel, araft upon a thing of its own design and making, rides the creek—meandering, deeply, for the entirety of this day in a shallow valley through a forest—the creek opens out into a swaying field, and off in the distance the squirrel sees the middlemost peak where the three peaks meet, and at the base of the middlemost peak, the squirrel can see the green green hillside of the Listmaker's Ranch. 

The squirrel will not make it all the way to the Ranch by nightfall, and so, it sets up camp on the edge of the creek where it butts up nicely against a swaying field.

^..^

the first drop fell

and then it poured

for an entire week it rained

and then it rained more

^..^

"One leaf died last week," the dragonfly informs, "And another will die in the next week or two, and so, I know that you are not from when I am from." The squirrel looks embarrassed, "I'ma squirrel. I'm obviously not from whenever this is that we are now." Confident, like all dragonflies, the dragonfly rolls its eyes, "Obviously." "So, should I pay you your $5 now for the analysis, or...?" squirrel goads. Above all of this nonsense, the dragonfly flies away.

^..^

The squirrel prepares itself a joint and simmers on a stone as the sun sets slowly behind the middlemost peak where the three peaks meet, and as the creek splashes softly by, the squirrel jots down a short mental list of the various things it would very muchly enjoy eating, that should be readily available along its journey to the Ranch. The squirrel takes another big toke and enjoys its life as it watches the sky turn from sunset hues to vast darkness sprinkled with specks of shimmery dust. 

'A Rose By Any Other Name'

captured & edited 01APR24
on a handheld Canon EOS 4000D mounted w/a prime lens
in natural light
&on the Snapseed photo editor
using the Samsung Galaxy A14 5G
edited only for color amplification

VIRGIN

captured & edited 01APR24
on a handheld Canon EOS 4000D mounted w/a prime lens
in natural light
&on the Snapseed photo editor
using the Samsung Galaxy A14 5G
edited only for color amplification
(cause like, let's be real, all fucking pics that are published to places wherein things can be published
have been digitally edited
sometimes the edits are simple, simply to make the image pop
other times it truly is to deceive
&everything in between
&to know the difference is to understand at what you're looking
&if you don't know at what you're looking
then you're illiterate in images
you cannot read images
just like there are many forms of illiteracy
[for instance, you can be socially illiterate &not-know how to behave/interact w/ppl in social settings
cause you don't know how to "read a room," etc.]
there is a form of illiteracy that has to do with one's inability to read images
if you suffer from this condition
i imagine that these days are very confusing for you
which must be such a total bummer. *shrug* bummer.)

'TRANS-RACIAL' or TRANSRACIAL (but this way will alert spell check of an error) from my Point of View (cause, like, this is my fucking blog; why would you assume i'm speaking as anyone other than myself? huh?)

trans·racial 

"I know that I look Korean to you, or probably, more like 'Asian,' but you're not quite sure from where, specifically, so probably Chinese, but I am very, very, very white on the inside, because white people raised me."

Corrective action may or may not be taken. Either way, the insides don't really match the outsides in the way that one, who is not them, might perceive of them. 

Most are acutely aware of how stereotypes work. 

All have a heightened sense of awareness with regards to identity.

Yes, racism is real. 

&Yes, white people are very aware of the fact that racism exists; why else would I "need" such a white name? To ease my suffering. 

I'd also like to declare the International Transgender Day of Visibility a day that also sees those of us who are Transracial, since, as two separate groups, we will never make up a 'majority,' etc.

The purpose of sharing our pain is not so that we can all participate in the Victim Olympics.

The purpose of sharing our pain is so that we can let others hear that we understand the pain that we're suffering.

I read a thread on Threads by a (fellow transracial [my identifier, not theirs]) "black girl", adopted to white parents, who shared how she heard the n-word in country music that blared out of the vehicles of her 99%-white rural town. Hannah Matthews doesn't specifically describe the experience as pain, and she goes on to explain that Beyoncé's new album is changing the way that she experiences country music. That's a miracle. 

I replied by sharing one of my own transracial experiences as a korean woman adopted to white parents who also grew up in a very white, rural area.

The shared experience that Hannah Matthews shared helped me to feel less alone, and so, I shared my experience in hopes of helping her feel less alone.

And then, all of this (happening as i write) made me have a think about what it means to be "transgender" (i use quotes here to identify the sexual orientation as a term being thrown around within and throughout society these days), on this International Transgender Day of Visibility. 

I currently do not know anyone (that i know of) who identifies as transgender. I do know, however, about a friend from my childhood who was labelled one gender and who now identifies as another. 

Nevertheless, I do not identify as transgender, and I do not know anything about what it is/means to be transgender from personal experience, except through one person who was once a childhood friend but with whom I've had zero contact since ... grade school. 

We were children. As students of a teeny, tiny, private christian school (like, that crazy kind, the kind wherein girls must wear a dress on chapel wednesdays, who also must attend a "godly woman" class wherein we learn how to be "proper" women who have pretty hair, clothes, and nails, etc.) from grades six through ten (i left for the public school to finish out my junior and senior years of high school), it was abundantly clear that my friend did not identify with the way they were "supposed to" present themselves. This was VERY obvious. It was painful. By the time we entered seventh grade, I was figuring it out, and so, I started to call them by a different gender-specific name, and they seemed to like it. I received a nickname of my own from this friend, and then, we started calling each other these new names. But it was all just a joke, out in the open. Nothing serious. Nothing crazy. 

The thing about it, though, now, today, in my life as an aging millennial, nearly aged out of my youth, is that maybe this friend could see that I was also not named appropriately, based off of my obvious race, that differed GREATLY from everyone else's. 

My white name is Tiffany. BAHAHAHAHA! Can you believe it. My white-ass parents named me Tiffany and then threw my birth name in the middle. Tiffany Kim Sun Camas. Sure, I know other asian Tiffanys, but the thing is that I already had a name. I arrived in These United States two months before my fourth birthday, which means that I had been being called Sun, 선 (as in the fucking sun, not all asianlike, soon or sohn *barf*), for the entirety of my nearly four years of life. And then, all of the sudden, my white family either needed to make me theirs or they needed so desperately to make sure that I would "fit in," so they gave me some seriously-white-ass name. *vomits* (supposedly, my brother [also an adopted korean] chose my name, but the fact is that my name should've never come up as needing to be changed.)

Thus, perhaps my transgender friend also saw that my name did not fit my identity, just like I saw that their name did not fit their identity. 

We saw each other. 

But we ought not utter a peep about what we knew, out loud. To do so by them would be to make them racist. To do so by me would make me sexist and cruel.

Even in grade school, we were keen enough to be able to see that something wasn't adding up. And I miss that friend a lot. I always have. They gave me the greatest nickname I've ever been given. 

To see and be seen. What else is there to this life but this?

That desperation to be seen.

What else could it be but to be human, to socialize, to interact with our fellow humans?

But the sharing of one's experiences, one's pain is too oftentimes labelled as selfish, an expression of the ego wanting to compete in the Victim Olympics. The reality is that we all suffer pain. Some is more nuanced than others, and some is objectively more terrible than others, nevertheless, everyone's pain is painful to them. And so, to mock the expression of pain is to mock the very essence of being human. 

We are the cause of each other's suffering. 

Why? 

Why do we do this to ourselves when we could be the cause of each other's euphoria? 

It's idiotic. It's moronic. It's truly counterintuitive. 

Do I agree with all of the arguments for transgender identities? Absolutely not. Do I fundamentally believe that there is obviously a biological difference between sexes. Yes, and it's a spectrum. But sexual orientation and gender are not the same thing. And since so few people seem willing to openly discuss these sorts of things (as they seem to be relegated to "conference-like" meetings wherein the non-believers are supposed to simply become enlightened, etc.) everything ends up sounding like hate. When maybe, the issue is that we're not taught to feel very many emotions beyond "happy" and "sad," "love" and "hate," cause being confused can rile a feeling that feels very similar to hate if you don't know how else to name the feelings you feel when you feel confused.

Identifying one's feelings requires practice. 

Like all things. 

If we refuse to feel, we refuse to be human.

And if we do not have the patience to teach each other how to feel, what are we teaching each other?

Happy International Transgender and Transracial Day of Visibility. Cheers to the weirdos!  

misogorny (misogyny + horny [as in 'me so horny']) :: the specific type of misogyny that men exercise on women of specifically East-Asian descent, because, really, there is no specific type of misogyny when considering that men who peddle misogyny are also subscribing to the idea that stereotypes are, across-the-board, true, etc.

I saw some porn montage, a long time ago (not that I don't watch porn, now), wherein some guy sticks his fingers inside of various different shades of women and as he (supposedly) removes his fingers from each woman's pussy, his fingers are covered in something that stereotypically represents the woman's race.

To think that there's some special, very specific type of misogyny for one specific race of women is narcissistic, at best, racist, at face value.

Thus, I'd like to expand "misogynoir" into the very specific type of misogyny that asian women experience from black men.

Because for a group that insists on teaching us all that Racism exists, yet the idea of it is "not real" because some crusty old whites made it all up, they really are full of ... racist language. It's like how hate against jews has its own, very specific label, while all other hate is lesser hate, at best, &not real hate, in their minds.