Saturday, September 24, 2005
Comfort
We all have our comfort things. The storms are raging outside. Seems like the world may come to an end. Comfort food is important to maintain the mental strength to deal with these things. Comfort restaurants where you can chat or read and eat comfort food.
Skyline Cafe was that for me. It is a white normative space, yet a space that is comforting. It reminds us of things that never really were. It reminds us of fun times. It reminds us of times when we thought the end of the world as a concept, not a potential acuality. A place to take a breath from the crazy things going on in the world.
It is so white normative. White people interacting with other white people. Most of them elders. The food is good American comfort food. The weather is clear, bright, and crisp. Fall is coming. The waitresses are beautiful young women, just like in the good old days that never were for most of us. Is it denial, or is it comfort. The storms are raging outside, but the weather is bright and clear and crisp.
The energy always changes when I enter the world of white normativity. I'm somewhat safe because my daugther is with me. I'm not just some Indian stepping out of a cupboard and into their restaurant. I don't get the angry stares, the sideways glances, the looks of discomfort or pity that my all mighty and powerful skin that can draw that kind of attention. I'm an Indian in whitey's world...although I swear the waitress is Indian. She looks a little like a cousin of mine. Beautiful, beautiful dark eyes, brown shiny long hair, a smile that can warm the coldest of hearts, and an undeniable intelligence and humanity in her spirit. But I hesitate to ask the question. This is whitey's world, and one has to be careful and not draw too much attention to those who can fit in both worlds. Those who can pass. Hey, whitey, we walk among you.
So, I gain comfort knowing that I can make whitey uncomfortable in his own world. Why do you feel uncomfortable when I step outside the rez of my mind and walk into your white normative spaces? Do I connect you to the nightmare that created the world as we know it. You all know what happened to my people and all your religions tell you that it was wrong. But here I am, a reminder...kiksuye...remember.
When we go home, what other worlds do we enter?
Welcome, whitey, welcome to my country. It would seem more and more of you are learning or about to learn what it really means to be Indian. I wish it weren't true, it's tough, even for those of privilege like myself (job, health care (for what it's worth), house, most of my teeth, etc.). Welcome anyway. Wanna help me in getting it all back? There is already a bunch of us. C'mon, whattaya gotta lose? What you have, they just may take from you. Let's struggle together, one and all, for one and all.
SEE YOU AT THE REVOLUTION!
Skyline Cafe was that for me. It is a white normative space, yet a space that is comforting. It reminds us of things that never really were. It reminds us of fun times. It reminds us of times when we thought the end of the world as a concept, not a potential acuality. A place to take a breath from the crazy things going on in the world.
It is so white normative. White people interacting with other white people. Most of them elders. The food is good American comfort food. The weather is clear, bright, and crisp. Fall is coming. The waitresses are beautiful young women, just like in the good old days that never were for most of us. Is it denial, or is it comfort. The storms are raging outside, but the weather is bright and clear and crisp.
The energy always changes when I enter the world of white normativity. I'm somewhat safe because my daugther is with me. I'm not just some Indian stepping out of a cupboard and into their restaurant. I don't get the angry stares, the sideways glances, the looks of discomfort or pity that my all mighty and powerful skin that can draw that kind of attention. I'm an Indian in whitey's world...although I swear the waitress is Indian. She looks a little like a cousin of mine. Beautiful, beautiful dark eyes, brown shiny long hair, a smile that can warm the coldest of hearts, and an undeniable intelligence and humanity in her spirit. But I hesitate to ask the question. This is whitey's world, and one has to be careful and not draw too much attention to those who can fit in both worlds. Those who can pass. Hey, whitey, we walk among you.
So, I gain comfort knowing that I can make whitey uncomfortable in his own world. Why do you feel uncomfortable when I step outside the rez of my mind and walk into your white normative spaces? Do I connect you to the nightmare that created the world as we know it. You all know what happened to my people and all your religions tell you that it was wrong. But here I am, a reminder...kiksuye...remember.
When we go home, what other worlds do we enter?
Welcome, whitey, welcome to my country. It would seem more and more of you are learning or about to learn what it really means to be Indian. I wish it weren't true, it's tough, even for those of privilege like myself (job, health care (for what it's worth), house, most of my teeth, etc.). Welcome anyway. Wanna help me in getting it all back? There is already a bunch of us. C'mon, whattaya gotta lose? What you have, they just may take from you. Let's struggle together, one and all, for one and all.
SEE YOU AT THE REVOLUTION!
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