Journey Part I

I moved to Atlanta, GA a little over a month ago for a variety of reasons. Partially to spread my wings and begin a new life in a faster-paced environment, I also did not want to stay in the Midwest and I needed a break from snow/ice storms.  However to be honest my first visit to this city nearly eleven years ago was a life-changing experience. While Junction City is perhaps one of the most if not the most racially diverse town(s) in Kansas, ethnic minorities are still that; the minority, in number as well as economic status. Atlanta was my first experience being in a place where I did not stick out based solely on my skin color, and primarily was the reason I knew I had to return to the city. While I still have much to learn regarding economic, social, and other dynamics of the South East, I have had several experiences which are constantly teaching me that no matter how hard I try, escaping racial disparities and inequities is not something that will happen due to a geographical change alone.

My primary source of transportation is via bus and train lines and many things are spread out via counties and communities. I have observed that certain areas which are higher classed also have cleaner streets, nicer restaurants, more resources and lack the amount of certain establishments such check-cashing joints and corner liquor stores which are much more prevalent in working-class to poverty ridden areas. I have also noticed that these neighborhoods also have few people of color even though we make up the majority of the population overall.

This past weekend I attended the annual Decatur Book Festival which is absolutely wonderful and an event I call my happy place because I am a dedicated book worm, its family oriented, and for me it represents the reason I love books to begin with; it is an escape or haven for all my woes with the world or at least helps me understand them.

The Keynote of the event was a conversation between Erica Jong and Roxane Gay held at Emory University.  I have recently graduated from Kansas State University and I miss the academic environment so I was thrilled to score a free ticket to the event. I noticed upon walking in the auditorium that the audience was overwhelmingly middle-aged to elderly and mostly Caucasian women (gender identity/racial ethnicities assumed).  I noticed there were few actual college-aged (at least traditionally) people in the audience and even fewer people of color.  Upon noticing this I began to feel out of place and unworthy. I felt that I did not belong in this crowd of people. Now this is not to say I was physically treated badly in any way shape or form, as a matter of fact the young woman at the ticket counter gave me a ticket reserved for Emory students as a gesture of goodwill. The ladies who sat next to me engaged in small talk, and my seat was a relatively good one. One could say that the issue of any racial disparity in such a crowd of educated/experienced people was all in my head and they would not be wrong. I will get back to what I mean by that in a little bit.

The ceremony was opened by former United States Poet Laureate Natasha Trethewey in honor of the tenth year anniversary of the Decatur Book Festival. Natasha Trethewey is the daughter of an African-American mother and a Caucasian (listed Canadian) father. She was born a year before Loving V. Virginia and is currently a professor at Emory University.  I was not aware of these facts when she read the poem she had written for the occasion. I was aware that she was a woman of color, on stage, in this space where I felt small and insignificant. I was aware that this simple fact alone made me feel a little less self-conscious. It made me feel as though perhaps I too could be brilliant and competent enough to be in this room.

As a self-proclaimed feminist Roxane Gay is one of my personal literary/feminist celebrities. She is a professor at Purdue, a feminist, she is the daughter of immigrants, a woman of color, she is overweight and unapologetic about her body and most importantly to me; she is a successful writer.

Erica Jong (who was actually the highlighted author of the evening) is also a successful author/poet. She is a feminist. She is controversial. She is a trail-blazer for second-wave feminism and is one of the early authors to write unabashedly about and embrace female sexuality. She is currently married to a Chinese American psychiatrist but has been married four times all together. She is a graduate of Columbia and hugely celebrated in the feminist literary world.

Prior to the event I was only vaguely familiar with Erica Jong. I knew her name and had a read a few pieces of work for a Women’s Studies class however I was excited to hear her speak.

In the beginning of the interview Roxane Gay pulled out her phone and held the mic to the speaker. The younger portion of the crowd erupted in cheers when the vocalizing to the beginning of Drunk in Love came bouncing out of the speakers. Bobbing her head to the music, Roxane pulled the mic away from the phone to ask “Whose birthday is it?” Beyoncéeee!!!! I screamed along with roughly eighty-plus other people. There were over one-thousand in attendance. Immediately following the cheers Erica Jong spoke into her mic and gave a disclaimer stating that Beyoncé has done amazingly well in the music industry and used her entertainment platform in a positive light towards feminism. Then she proceeded to state in spite of that we need to make sure we don’t forget the women who came before her to make that possible. She listed Billie Holiday along with a host of other Blues women. “Killjoy.” I thought to myself before immediately chiding myself on mocking an elder and not seriously considering her suggestion at that exact moment.

The interview commenced mostly with Roxane asking questions and Erica Jong answering them, about her work as a writer, her experience writing about an older woman who enjoys and desires sex and the hostility she faced due to writing about such characters and claiming those desires herself.

After about forty minutes the floor was opened for questions. At first they were usual simple ones, questions about writing advice, advice being a woman, and details referencing characters in the previous book. Then someone changed the entire dynamic and addressed the big purple elephant which is constantly present in the living room of feminism.

A woman (gender assumed) inquired about the recent hashtag on twitter #feminismisforwhitewomen. She wanted to know what Erica Jong and Roxane Gay thought about it. Erica Jong responded that such a claim was ridiculous and ignorant of the history of the feminist movement. She also stated she does not have a twitter account. Roxane Gay (who at the time of this writing holds over eighty-six thousand followers on twitter yours truly included) responded that the conversation is indeed a legitimate one and speaks to the lingering issues feminism has today despite it being 2015. Erica Jong listed Gloria Steinem as the first feminist to introduce Sojourner Truth to mainstream feminists. There were many side-eyes given to this statement. Mine included.  She continued to say there were many black abolitionists, and black women who fought for feminist issues. Roxane argued that those women were often silenced or at least shushed within the movement. Erica disagreed once again and Roxane chose to bow out and take another less controversial question. A few more moments went by and another person asked Roxane Gay what she thought about the feminist movement and Black Lives Matter. Would there ever be a time where we don’t have to reference color as a point of division? Roxane at first made it very clear that she does not want to live in a color blind world but that yes indeed it is possible to reach a point of harmony which is inclusive of racial and ethnic difference but it would take work. She also stated “It won’t be people of color doing it, we’re good.”

Later someone asked both if either had been influenced by either Mae West or Moms Mabley. Roxane said “no” speaking for both. Erica Jong launched into a spiel on the greatness of Mae West calling her “a great old broad” She then asked who is Moms Mabley? Someone behind me said “a great BLACK WOMAN old broad.” Roxane also stated that the fabric of feminism is intersectionality. Erica Jong asked her “What’s that?” Roxane very calmly and without an ounce of disdain stated that it simply means “I am a compilation of my identities, I am a woman, a black woman, in this body, a child of immigrants, I live in the Midwest, I’m a feminist etc.” and these identities shape my perspective and mold how I view and am viewed by the world” (paraphrasing)

I furiously applauded this as my introduction to feminism was taught to me through an intersectional lens. Yet the evening was not over and there was one more event which would once again cause me to ponder and learn.

At some point near the very end of Q&A, the conversation turned political with both Erica Jong and Roxane Gay stating their support of Hillary Clinton. One person asked about their support of Hillary since she has supported the War in Iraq and bombings in Libya both of which have left millions of young women without homes, education, livelihood etc. She asked how as feminists do they justify their endorsement of such a candidate other than that she is a woman. Roxane responded that she felt those actions did not make up Hillary Clinton as a candidate holistically and that there are policies and actions the current president makes she does not agree with but she still finds him to be suitable for the position. She later stated she would like to sit down with the person who asked the question because she needed to learn more about the issues addressed.

So needless to say that entire event left me with many, many thoughts tumbling over one another and I am still attempting to place them in an orderly fashion. My mental state upon entering the auditorium was one indeed in my head but still very telling of the society in which I live. While in college I was a member of the feminist organization first as a member, then webmaster, then president. One year we brought the educator Jane Elliot creator of the Brown Eyes vs. Blue Eyes exercise. While I could write another entry alone on that experience I have to state I felt I was experiencing something Jane Elliot observed with her students. I won’t go into all of the details of the exercise but basically she divided her students based on eye color and told them one eye color was on top of the day. Those students who were on top went first at lunch, sat in front of the classroom, had extra recess, and were treated/told they were better and smarter than the other students. She said she found that those students did things she knew they were not capable of doing. Students who had difficulty reading read flawlessly. Conversely students who were on the bottom had difficulty. She had one student who had never made a mathematical error suddenly unable to complete simple problems. This mental ableism is one that has plagued the African-American community for centuries and is one that we often experience to this day. For me it happened in that auditorium even though there was no physical evidence for my reaction.

Prior to my relocation to Atlanta I harbored a desire and belief that I had found a haven of a majority African diasporic community which would allow me to blend in with the masses and absorb an existence unaffected by societal and institutional racial disparity.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

In fact my understanding of the effects of racism, sexism, ableism and heteronormativity is challenged in a new way every day. I see how blatantly the city is zoned separating the poor from the rich and how that separation is often raced as well as classed and how I myself sometimes catch myself looking through a lens I am ashamed of. When I am on the train heading to Buckhead and I see white passengers I silently want to tell the young black men in front of me to pull up their pants, turn down the volume on their headphones and stop giving their mini-concerts in gangster rap. I secretly hope that I am not grouped in the category of my black sisters who are toting babies and bearing tattoos. I want to be viewed by these other (white) people as respectable, yet I want to be accepted by my people who live relatively close to my current neighborhood. When I ride the bus with them I let my voice slide into a “down home” vernacular and play with the babies and launch into conversations about rap artists. I compliment the black-trans woman riding next to me on her camo strappy wedge heels and try not to have a visible reaction when I notice her name first and last is tattooed under each eye.

One day on the train there is an older black man who is attempting to flirt with me. I speak at first just trying to be polite but he continues and I don’t want to be bothered so I put in my earbuds and blast Lianne La Havas in an effort to drown him out. Because my earbuds are cheap and I don’t want to damage my eardrums by increasing the volume I hear him call me a bitch and say how unattractive I am. I conclude he is mentally disabled and I ignore him. He starts a soliloquy “ My name Ooo-wee, Hellooo I get down” He pretends to hump the railing. A young man sitting across from me is greatly entertained by this he laughs and joins in “ Oowee” he sings. I chuckle nervously but feel very uncomfortable.

A young woman in a t-shirt and leggings walks up the aisle. The elderly man turns his attention to her, catcalling. She ignores him then he grabs her butt. She smacks him off. The young man across from me doubles over. There is another man also older in a suit and fedora sitting directly across from me. I haven’t noticed him until now. He is stoic in his expression. A man in the back gets angry and tells the man in the aisle to sit down and that he needs to apologize to the woman. The man retorts back that if he has something to say he should come up there. They hurl insults at each other but he gets off the train. For the rest of the ride the man in the back admonishes all the men for not doing anything and says it’s not funny. The older man says quietly “sometimes you have to let things go.” I feel uncomfortable I did not see the butt grabbing but I saw the woman’s response and I feel like I should have done something. Yet I feel sorry for the man because he is not mentally stable and once again I recognize the lines of right and wrong sometimes intersect like the Five Points Train Station which is my destination.  

I get into heated discussions on Facebook and with family members about the black lives matter movement and I want to be radical about what I post on the Internet but I hold back because I need to find employment and I don’t want to be turned away. My mental state is one of constant discombobulation and in this moment I don’t know how to deal with it. I want to make people understand that All Lives Matter as a response to Black Lives Matter is silencing and misunderstands the movement. Yet I feel like I don’t understand myself and am therefore not qualified to defend my position. My heart is cracking and I wonder if or how any of us will have it right and when will I?