The Monikor of Race

angry black woman responds to a question of why she calles herself an angry black woman instead of just an angry woman:

If I chose to, I could pretend to be not black. Or, I could choose not to mention my race at all. At which point people would assume whiteness because, as we all know, White is the Default. (ahem) What would the point be in doing such a thing? Well, for some people, knowing that the person they’re interacting with is the ‘other’ makes them defensive. They get nervous that they’ll say the wrong thing, or they see a criticism and automatically assume that they are being personally criticized. Plus, there are lots of assumptions people put on black people. Just knowing my race, some might be inclined to take a guess at my level of education, background, and current financial situation. If I didn’t specify my race, folks might not come here with all these assumptions and associations.

The State of One’s Self

AWE gives a “State of the Self” address to her fellow blog readers on her blog A Womyn’s Ecdysis:

On February 27, 1979, I was born cesarean to a mother and father who belonged to a country I have still yet to see, a generation I may never fully understand, and unbendable values. On February 27, 2007, I have battled transitions from Republican to something else; pro-life to something else; a little girl to Someone Else. This Someone Else has plans to visit the Philippines in one year and to connect with a history I have only experienced in stories and letters from cousins and family I have yet to meet. In my immediate family, I have learned the painful and loving separation that must occur in order for members to survive. In Filipino culture, family is central. What holds family in place in God. Those values, to this day, to this minute, I still believe and practice, but that definition – the Face of – G*d has changed. My vision of who this G*d is wordless, unexplainable, and powerful. I have withstood enough familial earthquakes to understand and accept that I will forever be in struggle with them and also in debt for their love, support, guidance, and forgiveness.

The State of One’s Self

AWE gives a “State of the Self” address to her fellow blog readers on her blog A Womyn’s Ecdysis:

On February 27, 1979, I was born cesarean to a mother and father who belonged to a country I have still yet to see, a generation I may never fully understand, and unbendable values. On February 27, 2007, I have battled transitions from Republican to something else; pro-life to something else; a little girl to Someone Else. This Someone Else has plans to visit the Philippines in one year and to connect with a history I have only experienced in stories and letters from cousins and family I have yet to meet. In my immediate family, I have learned the painful and loving separation that must occur in order for members to survive. In Filipino culture, family is central. What holds family in place in God. Those values, to this day, to this minute, I still believe and practice, but that definition – the Face of – G*d has changed. My vision of who this G*d is wordless, unexplainable, and powerful. I have withstood enough familial earthquakes to understand and accept that I will forever be in struggle with them and also in debt for their love, support, guidance, and forgiveness.

Life Under Occupaton

Mona El-Farra writes about life under occupation in the Gaza strip as she crosses the boarder into Israel, in her blog From Gaza, with Love:

On my way to the Israeli checkpoint I walked with my daughter and ten sick people, who are in desperate need for further treatment in Israel. We walked through a long cement tube, with cameras looking down on top of our heads and sound from hidden mics giving us instructions. At that moment I recalled the big brother from the ‘1984’ novel and felt in an unrealistic world. I kept walking and before reaching the end of that tube I met tens of Palestinian people of all sorts of ages (children, babies, old women and men) tired exhausted and very sad. I stopped one very old woman limping with her walking sticks and asked her who she was. She said that they had been visiting their sons and daughters in the Israeli jails. I burst loudly into tears. I felt speechless and helpless.