Spotting Healers

I can spot healers within two minutes of meeting them. I don't know what it is. I don't know quite how to articulate. Something about both groups of people. I just know. I'm in conversation and I can see clearly the capacity of the person in front of me. Almost, come close to feeling what will happen with them when they heal. I literally feel pain when I sense their hurt. Not in a pitying sort of way, but in an empathy and respect way. Then the awe of their greatness sets in with me. I really firmly believe that I see a persons beauty in a way that is a gift. When I meet them, I struggle not to tell them. How do you explain that at base, you just know that they will not only find their way, but help others find their way as well. It's all very Catholic in the whole "peace be with you" kinda way.

It's funny how the world will send you messages about who you should have in your life. In the last month I have to say I have met more people whom I've identified as healers then I have in quite some time. I've met them in a variety of ways, randomly at cafes, through craigslist ads, my new job, or at the park. It blows my mind. I'm trying to figure out, what kind of message is being sent to me here? For quite a few of these people I have gotten a strong feeling that I am supposed to be in their lives. But really, how do you tell someone you've barely met, "So hey, I think we were meant to be friends, not quite sure why, but don't flip, I know these things." haha.

Am I just being a freak? I mean just because you can see that kind of beauty in the world, does it mean that you have to be or have a right to be an active part of it? Should it just be a comfort to me that it exists in that kind of quality in the world. When the world is in the state that it is in, where there is no more time to waste and healers are needed, what kind of responsibility do you have to them? So many thoughts. Such beauty.

Just a thought for my fellow survivors...

So I was walking down the street in DC tonight. It was fairly late, a few bums, the general ask for money and lude comments about my butt. It's always a vocal assault about my butt or my boobs with offensive men really. Sorry to break it to them, but they are mine, they will never be owned by the cat caller, much as you may think that might work. ;c)

But I digress. So I had a random thought. As one of them shouted an obscenity about my ass, I gave the "Touch me and I'll put a heel in your eye, mofo" look. It reminded me about the anger I had at my attacker when I was boxing.

Your bodies immediate instinctual reaction to violence is to protect itself. Anger will spur you to guard your body and attack another. This instinct for "how dare you invade what is mine"

But as survivors know, as we recooperate, the distance makes us blame ourselves. What did I do wrong? How can I take away blame from the attacker and push it to myself. Why is that? Is it because we are the only ones we can bare to punish?

Maybe a part of the healing process is finding a way to connect with the ass-kicker in you. The person that you become when its not about analysis, but intuition and impulse.

What do you think?

Finding the Path

I've been processing this one for a few days now, I think I'm ready to write about it. It may not make sense, so forgive me.

Being an educator is really exciting. There is something about choosing your audience and giving them the gifts that have been given to you. No matter what I do in the future, I will always remember that my roots were those of someone in education. There are still moments for me though where being that person takes its toll. Being an educator you see is a gift and a 24 hour responsibility. It's about taking moments that could essentially be painful and shifting them, moving them into something that helps people heal and understand.

I found myself in a spot last week, as an educator, that was hard. I was about to sugar-coat it by saying a little hard, but if I'm honest it was a lot hard. I can't really disclose the full details of the incident, but it involved misunderstandings and race and equity and all of those hot button topics that cause emotional reactions in EVERYONE.

I left the room I was in and tried to process things from both the rational and emotional pieces. The things I knew from knowledge and the piece that stung emotionally no matter how much I tried to talk myself down. In a span of minutes, there I was, tears and emotions stuffed into my shoulders and lower back, explaining the difficulties for people of color. As always the lone representative in the room. This was high school for me, college, now my professional and sometimes even my personal world.

Though incredibly productive and beneficial, I gotta tell you, I walked away raw. I left the room feeling alone, isolated and mildly grieving. I held it all together until I left the room. I walked down the street for about a block and only then did I start to cry. It wasn't hurt exactly. It's a little hard to explain.

I wanted to talk to someone who would understand. You see in my dream world, I would have an older latina female, one in management or some education position, that would understand the feelings that I was experiencing. She would tell me it was normal and that she had gone through many similar experiences. She would explain to me how to reconcile the pieces. The ones that make you feel both out of place in a world you launched yourself into and the world you launched yourself out of. I would get books to read, things to think about, ways of looking at the situation that took out a bit of the sting. I would feel at ease because someone would have answers for me. I would know beyond a shadow of a doubt, it was going to be okay.

But on a windy, grey day in San Francisco, as I walked home and scrolled through my cell phone, not a single number that I own, not a single connection that I have, could give me those answers. The grief that this walk home left me, was heartbreaking. It was another moment when I realized that I will have to piece together feedback from many different sources to make due with what I got. Now, I'm not trippin, I get that I'm lucky to even have that. But man, would it have been great to have known someone whose taken the path before me. The older I get and the further into the many beautiful pieces of my life I go, the more frequent I find these spots. No comfort blankets anymore. My parents aren't familiar with my world, they don't know its intricacies and to an extent I think they feel it took away their daughter. The ability to turn to them really ended around the age of 15. And as many times as I may try, since then, it just hasn't fit.

Truth be told, since then, I don't know where I fit. It's like I made myself independent knowing that my path was uncharted waters for most. It's an exciting swim, but what I would give to find a coach that knows most of the terrain and understands, at a fundamental level, what it means to fight this hard for what you want. Even when you haven't identified exactly what it is.

Rain and lessons learned

So I made healthy decisions last night. Instead of going to a party I had no desire to leave the house for, to dance at a place where I have not been a big fan of the atmosphere, I stayed home. I watched Real Time With Bill Mahr and a Woody Allen movie. Slept at a decent hour and now have woken up at 7, waaaaay earlier then my standard weekend hour. I'm feeling content and excited with the prospects of my day.

Lessons learned this week:

Rain looks beautiful in the morning, when you can sit and enjoy it with a cup of tea.

Choose for you, you'll be happy with your choices.

Making space in your heart is important, it allows you to really sift through what you want.

Anger is okay. You're allowed.

Every once in awhile you can spazz out about work, there is a difference between a spazz and a toxic pattern.

If I don't write, the emotions stay in my body. I am more centered this way.

Just because you can facilitate a situation so that the feedback you give is clean, doesn't mean it doesn't cause an emotional reaction in you. You can be totally productive and functional and still walk away feeling like it hurts.

I spend 9% of my life reading and writing (thanks for the break down Rey), honor that and do some activities that honor it.

It's time to honor me.

I still sing a rockin disco song at The Mint and wahoo for free drinks. ;c) (thats my favorite)

Addiction Backsliding

So I came to a conclusion today, criticizing yourself to oblivion is just as much as addiction as alcohol or drugs. You do real good. You believe in yourself. You see your beauty. You see your grace and magnificence. Then one day you wake up and there is a trigger. An old boyfriend, stress, a lack of validation, a tiring day, a hard week, etc. can send you back to get a fix. For that matter a good week, a triumph, a conviction, a moment of perfection, peace, makes you seek the leveling. I can't possibly be this good. And then I show myself how I am not.

You suck, you're ugly, you're dumb, pound, pound, pound. Until you leave yourself so raw, its hard for even the most loving friend to reach you. It's deceptive. You give yourself just a small taste. "Ugh, don't be dumb Karla." and then before you know it, its an arsenal of assault. Harsher then any parental whip. You start to rehash the painful history, pull out the greatest hits. Your father walking away from you as you cry to explain to him that no matter what you'll love him, being told that they don't think you're pretty, the boys that rejected you, the friends who took advantage of you, the family members who think you abandoned them for pursuing your dreams reiterating your selfishness for being your own advocate. Then it becomes a group bashing. You and your ghosts in a battle to take you out. Until all that is left is a fragment of your goddess presence.

There should be a sponsor.

Then you snap back, realize you are backsliding and fight like hell to give up. But its an addiction. Like any other addiction, it hurts and it feels good. How do you explain addiction to the logical/rational world. How do you find a sponsor?

I don't know. I spend my life teaching the world how to access each other and I struggle to allow for people to give to me. I am figuring out how the receiver, receives and does it without guilt. I'm "independent". AKA Stubborn.

My addiction, more unique and more common then any other. Waking up from it, is like finding oxygen. Reminders of the world you help build to sustain. Thank you for the blessing. For finding my way back quicker every time. Give me peace to learn how to let the ghosts and obssessive reduction of my truest self go. Not because the world needs me but because I need me. I want to be in love with myself so deep, my vision allows me to see myself, the way I see the world. In its infinite majesty.

Contact Boxing, Contact Healing

I just came out of my first boxing class. I contemplated for about 30 minutes whether or not I was going to write this entry. How do you put an experience so personal out for the world to read? And I thought of silence and how it kills more people than any gun ever does. How deadly passivity is. I know too many survivors to not put my thoughts into the world. I honor other survivors with my words and our struggle is so communal, my sisters and brothers, I understand the feelings attached.

I have been assaulted/violated 5 different times. At varying degrees of intensity. The most violent being the last, June 29 of 2005. As early as age 5, small and unknowing of the world, I carried with me scars of another persons illness. Then, at every stage in my life, as if to remind me of the wounds, I was violated again. I have never known a world where I felt safe in my own body. I have not known a time in my life of memories where this passive imprisonment did not exist. And I did not realize or accept until now, how that was a choice.

I say that only to tell you how amazed I am that tonight was my first night taking a class that had any element of self-defense. As I walked in, I felt the feelings of a child going to their first day of school. Naively unaware of the reasons for my own apprehensiveness.

I am very much a novice at this, so forgive the crudeness of my explanations on this sport...

There, with a bag and a set of gloves, I claimed my right to be the goddess I was born to be. I learned basics tonight. A jab and a hook. My instructor said his goal was to sweat us out. I knew from the instant that my gloved fist first touched that bag, that I was going to think of that man. I, of course, use the term man, loosely. I felt in my heart, the anger I usually suppress. You see, I am good at a lot of emotions. I am emotionally verbal in a way that is unique. Anger, for many reasons, has always been tough for me. But there, in a public space, with three other women and one male instructor. I was angry.

The jab was not the hardest part. The right and left hooks however, took me to another place. For a hook you need to place your body closer to a bag/opponent, it is the move you use when you have a lack of space. In my gym gear, near that bag, I was back in a dance club, backed against a corner. But this time, I did not struggle to defend myself. This time was different. I think my instructor saw it. He encouraged me "Who ever it is, keep going, let it push you, not stop you." Over and over again, past my physical limitations I beat the shit out of a predator.

Tonight was so many different things for me, I cannot possibly write them all down right now. I need clarity. What I will say is that I am in a different place then I have been. I would have needed to be to even place my hands into a pair of boxing gloves.

I will never allow someone to touch me like that again. How fucking dare he. I am a goddess and no one has a right to take my light like that. So here, in my fifth go around of surviving trauma. I come to peace. I will not be a prisoner to my own body. I will celebrate it for its utility. How could I ever find beauty in myself if I felt like a prisoner. I am light and strength. To hell with the people that used their size and physical dominance to try and take my gifts. How dare you take your gifts and use them as weapons to disempower. That is it. Never again will I allow it to happen.

Brothers and sisters, you are sheer brilliance. We are worth the fight. Our path will lead us to happiness and that will lead us to freedom. As I sit here and cry rivers of redemption, know that i understand the pain that is attached to all of this, but the prison is self-imposed. You may know the world in a completely different way than you "should" but it does not mean you have to settle for a life that is devoid of your own beauty. Find ways to let go of the anger instead of trying to defeat it. The deep pockets of discomfort will dissapate and you will be left with the truest version of yourself.

I will feel safe.

I wish you peace.

Sunshine

Score! We get another day of sunshine. Amazing what it does for the people here when its bright.

Cheers to the guy that taught me to be a kid!

Number three of the day, I'm on fire! You should see my journal after today, its deep... ANYway...

This is an homage to the guy that taught me to be a kid. Waaaay back in the day, when I was 14 and sure that the world was going to swallow me whole. I met a guy by the name of Eric Gonzalez. He has recieved kudos and thanks on this site in the past but today is his birthday and I feel like its only right to honor him.

Where was I, oh yes, I was 14. I was the kid from the proverbial "wrong side of the tracks" and quite literally crossed tracks to get to school each morning. I would sit in my parents car terrified of going inside the gates. I was alone. I was not accepted and really miserable. I felt seperate and unlike the people inside that school.

Then one fateful day I tried out to be a cheerleader (mortifying when I think of it now) and met a girl who introduced me to a boy, that changed my life. I was such a sad kid. I felt the weight of the world on my shoulders half the time. I had a lot to do and had seen no one succeed before me. I was a tragedy that sat next to the trash can near the girls bathroom. Then I had them. And best of all, I had him. The person I would know as my best friend for years. The kid that taught me how to laugh with abandon. To run around and play hide and go seek at 15 (I had never done it), to not take the world so seriously, to figure out what the kid in me wanted first and use that kid as a guide. He helped buy me a yearlong pass to Disneyland because he wanted me to continue to have fun, was my first date to a formal dance, my first love, subsequently the first guy I ever saw come out of the closet and most times, the first person I run to if the need to hear "You're going to be okay Karlita" comes up.

Thank you for showing me that in finding my childhood I would find the truest version of myself darlin.

I love you, Happy Birthday.

Kick Ass

So this is the second post of the day, so you know i've spent it thinking. I was with a peronal trainer for the first time... ever, the other day. It was the most enlightening experience. I don't think I've had that fish out of water feeling with anything in awhile. It's healthy, I thrive on that shit, so it was all copacetic.

The piece that surprised me was when he asked me what my goals were, and you know I thought it would be the traditional, lose weight, work on my tummy, blah blah blah. But I was incredibly surprised when I said "I want to know how to throw a punch." I said it with a force that surprised me. I mean really surprised me. Even the trainer said "Where did that come from?" So I spent some time explaining the assault and how it made me feel about my body. I explained how I barely escaped and how much I longed to feel safe in my own skin again.

Crazy how you don't know what's still issues until something just brings it to the forefront. So you heard it here first ladies and gentlemen, I am going to learn to kick some ass. I want to know what its like to feel totally capable of protecting myself without the need for anyone else. Though I did it once, I feel like I could have done it with less trauma to my body and it just doesn't need to be something I carry around as a worry anymore. So I'm done. Watch out. ;c)

A New Place

I'm happy. It took me a year and a half since the assault to get there, but I gotta tell you, I'm happy. Life is just different now. The predominant thought in my head is no longer the many ways that I need to protect myself, its how much I deserve to enjoy the world around me.

Yesterday was a wondeful day for me, mellow, in the ways that good days are. I woke up early, dressed for me, met some old coworkers for lunch, read in the sunshine of a beautiful park, took notes on a gorgeous book, met up with a really cool guy, had dinner with my roommate/best friend, went out dancing with a great friend and came home drunk more off of my own happiness than vodka (though the vodka did help). Today, I woke up, powered through my hangover, went up to twin peaks, still the best place in the city if you ask me, and let the sunshine dance on my skin.

There is so much beauty in struggle ya'll. It's like all the scars of the last two years are my merit badges. I keep them in my coat and show them to those I believe deserving enough to see. How wonderful to transition from letting them be my walls to letting them be my honor. I feel in my heart the love I have to give to the world and it feels good. I trust that the world deserves it and I give it with joy.

Happy, contrary to popular belief, is not a destination. It is what happens when you live and dream to your hearts content. Even in times when it is dark, the dream that you will see the world as it lights up again, is enough to get you through. As light bearers it is our responsibility to show those bereft of the light, possibility. That journey, helps you find your place in the world. I feel so at peace right now. Though I know its a peak in what is sure to be another journey, I find myself not caring. I fuckin love the ride.

Being Grown Folks

I had this really interesting conversation with my mom today. She was telling me some really tough family news about the health of a cousin. And she started to beg me to inform her on how I was doing more consistantly. She asked over and over again for me to be more open when things were tough. Her insistance and fear broke my heart.

Last week my roommate and best friend of years was pretty sick. In a so sick its almost scary way. We ended up at the ER Sunday while she fought a high fever and a lot of pain. I sat there on the phone balancing telling our parents enough to not blind-side in the event that things went worse but not enough to majorly worry them. It was a tough balancing act. I was peaking in on her ever few hours and to be honest. It was a little hard to sleep knowing how sick she was. It was one of those moments where you go, dang I'm an adult now. There is no mommy and daddy to run to if things go wrong, I'm gonna have to figure this out. I had been running on automatic pilot until I missed my flight to DC the next day. I called a friend and co-worker and my voice broke when I told him. I quickly apologized. He said he understood and would pray for my friend and I. It struck me how great it would have felt to have parents to do that with in that moment. To figuratively crawl into someones lap and have them tell you its going to be okay. See, my parents were never those people. Comfort was not something they offered well, they didn't know how. So I could probably count the number of times after I hit teenagerdom that I have done the crawl into your lap and get reassurance thing with anyone.

So that brings me back to the conversation I had with my mom. Sitting there on the phone, feeling how heavy the last week was. Wanting so bad to break a little with her and seek comfort. But hearing the fragilty in her voice. And I was so close. So close to saying "I was scared" "I didn't know what to do." "I felt like such a little kid." And I couldn't do it. Instead I sat there on the phone tears coming down my face, trying to supress it while I assured her I was okay.

What is the line with independence? When do we cross it? How much of it is underestimating there capacity. I mean I believe my parents to be strong and capable. I know they won't break if I let them in. But if I am honest, I am afraid letting them there, will break me. I'm struggling to figure out what taught me to shut other people out in my times of greatest need.

Don't get me wrong. I am an open person. I would say I access people pretty well. But in times of hardship, trauma, real bad issues... I think I try and handle on my own to an extreme. I'm going to spend some time tracing back the tree on that. When did I decide that being grown folks meant handling solo? When do I reaffirm my commitment to that solitude? I'm such a hugger, isn't it ironic that I am not great at allowing people to hold me.

Can the healer, be healed?

I hope so. I have to believe it.

Haha I was just about to add an addendum that said "This post is much more melancholy than my mood." You know, just so no one would worry. ::shakes head::

Good Women

Can I tell you, I love being a good woman.

I have often had conversations where I bemoan my good girl tendancies and wish I had it in me to be a little more bad. What would life be like, I have thought, if I just allowed myself to really mess up. To just not care about morals or reprecussions. I realize as I lay here in bed enjoying the comfort of my room and thinking about my week, that I my friends, am full of shit. I love being a good woman and I doubt I would ever trade it for anything else.

Last night, I went out with a group of gal pals. We went to this place called Tunnel Top. It was a fun bar, good male to female ratio (depending on whether you were asking me or a guy there) and there was this group of men from out of town. They were a funny group of guys and as we started to make conversation with them, one of my friends however, pointed out the shiny glint of wedding bands on all of them. I had a laugh, let them buy me drinks, joked around with them. But there was a point in the night where lines were being crossed. I could see some of my gal pals folding on some of the pieces that I know usually would matter a lot.

I sat there for a good second, a married mans arm around me, thinking, how big of a deal is this? And that is when I backed away. I knew in that moment, no amount of validation, alcohol, male appreciation, would ever make any line crossing okay.

Please understand, this is not a knock on the women I was with. I mean I get it. It's tough in those moments to really back away. You've loosened your inhibitions, you are feeling like being appreciated as a woman, and its nice. Each of us has to find the line. I just love that for myself, the line is so clear and that my heart really speaks up loud in those moments. I think, for myself, I felt more beautiful walking away then I ever would have staying. And for that, thank you heart, for taking me down the paths that honor who I am.

Change lives, create social change in just four days.

Hi guys,

So the deal is that I've been volunteering for an organization by the name of College Summit for the last 5 years. Every summer its been one of the best experiences I have all year.

The way they work is that they bring together groups of 50 kids in the summer at different workshops across the country. The kids are all low-income, with GPA's between 2.0 and 3.0 for the most part. In four days, these kids, rising seniors, get all the materials they need to apply to college. Its a life changing experience and for a lot of them its their first time believing that they can make it.

The reason I'm posting this is that the volunteer application is up. The position of writing coach lets you work with 5 students, you get totally trained to do it, and its the most fun you'll have with a group of kids all year. It's four days and you'll get a $150 stipend if you so choose.

I swear it will be something you will be glad you did. I am attaching a PDF that tells you a little bit more about the organization and what they do. I really hope you apply. I think you'll find that the four days doesn't just change the lives of the kids you work with but your's as well. Go now to http://www.collegesummit.org/volunteer

All my love, admiration and esteem,

Karla

Freedom Writer

I sat in a movie theater yesterday and watched the movie Freedom Writers and couldn't help but feel certain emotions stir in me. I had long tired of the "great white hope" comes in and changes the ghetto kids genre, but this movie was definitely different. It was done with a dignity to the students that Erin Gruwell served in a way that was befitting of their struggles. I loved that for once asian kids were not isolated from the world of violence many kids live in, the story was more about the kids then the teacher, loved that the main latina character struggled with a lack of moral absolutes.

But I was still mildly bothered by the whole thing. When do the stories about us, for us, by us get told? It's been almost 20 years since Jaime Escalante and Joe Clark took the screen. And it bothers me that our stories, teenage or otherwise, are not just happening in the classroom, but really that is the only place they ever get played. And don't tell me that "Take the Lead" is supposed to cut it. I mean real emotion. Stirs you that you identify, regardless of color with the character, even though the man/woman so happens to be a minority. Anyone in the mood to challenge me could give me a list of movies with characters of color that should shut my mouth, but really, its a mere handful and how many of those movies had a producer that understood what it was like to grow up not as a part of mainstream culture.

See when I started writing this, I was about to apologize, I'm aware that my blogs have been a lot about race lately. Why its been a hot button issue with me as of late I don't know. But I was ready to apologize to this non-existant reader for the effect of not seeing myself on a screen. And then I stopped myself. I won't apologize for a structure that I see consistantly doesn't raise our kids the way they deserve.

I realized that its time for me to start writing faithfully again. And by faithfully, I mean putting my story down on pages. I have no right to complain about what isn't out there if I have yet to add my own contributions.

New Years Resolutions, Round 1

1. I will have a longer term dating life then my standard 3 weeks.
2. I will upgrade my wardrobe all year.
3. I will find a physical activity that I enjoy that isn't seasonal that I will do regularly.
4. I will hike at least once a month.
5. I will discover more places in the city I enjoy.
6. I will go out at least three times a month to a non-bar/dance place.
7. I will go out at least once to a bar/dance place.
8. Create non-negotiable boundaries with my job and friends.
9. Figure out how to stop my "all or nothing" habit. Look into where it comes from.
10. Learn how to say no without feeling guilty.
11. Stop letting other peoples needs and wants from coming before my own.
12. Stop allowing myself to feel like a bad person when I say no to someone.
13. Learn how to say no up front instead of when I've maxed myself out.
14. See more plays.
15. See more live music.
16. Cook more.
17. **** *** (thats a private one)

CNN Article: Poll: Most Americans see lingering racism -- in others

Poll: Most Americans see lingering racism -- in others
POSTED: 1:02 p.m. EST, December 12, 2006

• Poll shows most Americans consider racism a problem
• Blacks more than twice as likely to call racism a "very serious" problem
• Almost half of whites and blacks say they know someone who is racist
• Only a few of either race say they are racially biased themselves
More on CNN TV: Are you prejudiced in ways you don't even know? Find out in a Paula Zahn NOW Special: "Skin Deep: Racism in America," tonight, 8 p.m. ET.
Adjust font size:


(CNN) -- Most Americans, white and black, see racism as a lingering problem in the United States, and many say they know people who are racist, according to a new poll.

But few Americans of either race -- just one out of eight -- consider themselves racist.

And experts say racism has evolved from the days of Jim Crow to the point that people may not even recognize it in themselves. (Watch people in a Texas town where blacks are still afraid to stop )

A poll conducted last week by Opinion Research Corp. for CNN indicates that whites and blacks disagree on how serious a problem racial bias is in the United States.

Almost half of black respondents to the poll -- 49 percent -- said racism is a "very serious" problem, while 18 percent of whites shared that view. Forty-eight percent of whites and 35 percent of blacks chose the description "somewhat serious."

Asked if they know someone they consider racist, 43 percent of whites and 48 percent of blacks said yes.

But just 13 percent of whites and 12 percent of blacks consider themselves racially biased.

Professor Jack Dovidio of the University of Connecticut, who has researched racism for more than 30 years, estimates up to 80 percent of white Americans have racist feelings they may not even recognize.

"We've reached a point that racism is like a virus that has mutated into a new form that we don't recognize," Dovidio said.

He added that 21st-century racism is different from that of the past.

"Contemporary racism is not conscious, and it is not accompanied by dislike, so it gets expressed in indirect, subtle ways," he said.

That "stealth" discrimination reveals itself in many different situations.

A three-year undercover investigation by the National Fair Housing Alliance found that real estate agents steered whites away from integrated neighborhoods and steered blacks in to predominantly black neighborhoods.

Racism also can be a factor in getting a job.

Candidates named Emily O'Brien or Neil McCarthy were much more likely to get calls back from potential employers than applicants named Tamika Williams and Jamal Jackson, even though they had the same credentials, according to a study by the University of Chicago.

Racial bias may even determine whether you can flag a cab.

New York Times writer Calvin Sims wrote a recent article about all the cabdrivers that refused to stop for him.

"If a cab passes you by, obviously it is frustrating, it's degrading and it's just really confusing, because this is akin to being in the South and being refused service at a lunch counter, which is what happened in the 60s and 70s," he said.

Victimized

The Opinion Research poll shows that blacks and whites disagree on how each race feels about the other.

Asked how many whites dislike blacks, 40 percent of black respondents said "all" or "many." Twenty-six percent of whites chose one of those replies.

On the question of how many blacks dislike whites, 33 percent of blacks said "all" or "many," while 38 percent of whites agreed -- a wash because of the poll's 5 percent margin of error.

About half of black respondents said they had been a victim of discrimination because of their race. A little more than a quarter of whites said they had been victims of racial discrimination.

The poll was based on phone interviews conducted December 5 through Thursday with 1,207 Americans, including 328 blacks and 703 non-Hispanic whites.

Depersonalizing

So I would say, as of late, I have not posted anything too personal. I think I've hit a time period that I cannot disclose to the general public just yet. I'm sure there will come a time that I can, and I will, but that writing has had to be more personal and private. It's gotten me through struggle and I want to keep it to myself for a second. There are other things however, issues that mean a lot to me, that may not necessarily involve a huge forthcoming of personal details that I have been mulling. I'm about to write that blog entry right now. My life will soon return to my blog. I think once I get a handle on it, I'll feel more freedom with it. Until that time... enjoy my other musings. =c)

Thinking about it... from the "Latino Desk"

(Me looking Latina, because apparently, that matters)


So I have thought about the CNN article I posted. There are pieces of it that I'm puzzling over as I ponder it. I think it's a great theory of how we should be, the whole, America takes in the cultures and accepts them as their own. It's great except that its bull.

When has this country welcomed information and culture on my African brothers and sisters? When has the booming Pacific Islander community found themselves represented ANYWHERE? When have asians in this country been marketed as anything but "smart". You want me to believe that there is no division but all I have heard this year is how unwanted the latino community is here. How the whole of the brown community (as the words latino and immigrant seem to be interchangable in the media, and may I point out that I am latino but fully an american citizen- born and raised) is a drain on all things economic, medical and educational. As silly as it may sound, it was the second time in my life that I felt like I was just not welcomed in this country. the first time, I was in kindergarten and a ton of kids were making fun of me for having an accent. It's a different situation but its the same basic gist.

So now you realize, as a media/as a country (and maybe soon as an electorate), that due to personal human value, the humanity of a majority of people not only welcomes the people but wants in to the pieces that make them unique and we are now the magically marketable. Honor both ends mofo's. Don't perpetuate the myths and marvel at the successes. OF COURSE Ugly Betty is a success. The country was STARVING for it. Latin explosion articles make us sound like a rarity. The last time my people were a rarity, Leave it to Beaver was a number one hit. Those aren't good old days, "simpler times" they were just times of simpler people. Welcome to complexity and dimension. Maybe the articles should be about the growing multi-cultural intelligence of the average American and what can be done to heighten that awareness in our people who lag behind.

I Rest My Case

Check out this CNN Opinions Editorials piece...

Monday, October 16, 2006
America's Latinization: Shakira, salsa and Ugly Betty
I feel like I keep doing this same story every year, telling the tale of how the booming Latino population is changing the United States, how the U.S. media business needs to take note of this vast and demanding market. I'm Latina and in the media, so I cop to having a special interest here.

But, as the U.S. population approaches 300 million people, the story has finally changed. I've written for years about how Latino content -- in Spanish and English -- is growing so much that it's going to transform American media. Now it seems to have actually happened.

It's not just that People Magazine also publishes People en Espanol or that CNN has a Spanish-language channel called CNN en Espanol. All U.S. media is changing its content to reflect the fact that Latinos have become the nation's largest minority group and that the rest of the country is feeling their own culture become Latinized.

You can see it in supermarket snack aisles, where tortilla chips and salsa outsell most everything around them. You can hear it on the radio and on MTV, where Spanish music and music with a Spanish beat are everywhere. Hello, Shakira! I flipped through childrens channels the other morning with my 15-month old daughter and there was Handy Manny talking to his toolbelt in Spanish, Dora exploring the world with her amigos and Diego talking to some birds in Spanish. By the time my little girl is my age, it is likely that one in five school children will be Spanish dominant. Our country is changing, fast.

Just a few years ago my relatives in Peru told me not to call them when Betty La Fea was on because they wouldn't pick up the phone. I remember visiting them and TV reporters were on air around Latin America doing live shots to show how empty the streets were during the broadcast. The show was a major telenovela phenomena. Everyone watched, every time. When ABC announced it would produce a U.S. version in English, I figured this would be a true test of whether the U.S. audience, Latinos and non-Latinos, would embrace something so quintessentially Latin American. Well, question answered. Ugly Betty has become the most-watched new series this season.

The show is funny, with crisp writing and a compelling story line. It is also very much a Latino show. Yet the numbers speak for themselves. It's not the nation's Latinos watching; it's everybody.

After years of watching Spanish-language shows and news broadcasts in the U.S. attract Neilson ratings that were the envy of U.S. broadcasters, it's heartening to see something Latino holding its own in English. It means there has been a coming together, a melting in the melting pot. That's the thing that makes the United States a special place for immigrants. That it welcomes and assumes their culture. That it goes out of it's way to welcome the millions of Bettys out there into their home.

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Ethnic Folk on TV

Can I tell you that I have absolutely loved loved loved watching TV on Thursday nights. Something special happens on Thursdays. A latina female that doesn't look like a sex kitten comes on at 8pm. And after she abdicates her seat, a show about surgeons comes on, the show features prominent characters in many ethnicities. The focus of both of these shows are the people. Not their ethnic heritage, their racial struggles in the world, but the people. Not that these shows would shy away from these issues, its just that these shows recognize they are much more then the melanin in their complexions. They address how they view, experience and love the world. And I think its FANTASTIC.

I think that network executives have been so afraid to feature people of color in their shows. What happens if America doesn't tune in and they lose dollars? Well, In addition to being the best shows on TV, these two shows are the highest rated shows on TV. So my question is this, after the success of Ugly Betty and Grey's Anatomy, if network executives still don't look at casting shows by the best actor/actress but by the demographic that they think they should hit, what kind of rebellion should occur in the face of this blatant racism. I mean you have a solid case for featuring people of all heritages and you still oust them? I think that this racism is the most pervasive. Our children deserve to see people that look like them play surgeons, fashionistas and all sorts of three dimensional characters. Then they see what they can aspire too. When we don't do this, it sends a silent but deadly message, that only certain people count and/or make it. I think evening out this playing field will play a role in evening out the disparities/despair in our neighborhoods.