As your typical foreigner, I didn't use to care much about the presidential elections in the US. However, the upcoming elections have been at the forefront of my attention for some time now, because I think we're close to a historic moment for this country, and its people.
I really want Obama to win. I really, really want that to happen. Not only because McCain is Republican and subscribes to their backward ideas such as banning gay marriage and virtually illegitimizing abortion; not only because Obama is younger, more energetic, more well-spoken and less repetitive in his messages to the US people; in summary, not only because Obama is far more convincing as a president of a 21-cetury United States. But also because this is a pivotal moment for the American racial model. I believe, and others I've talked to share the view, that electing Obama president of the US would be a huge win for the United States, both domestically as well as in terms of their image in front of the world. This country, which has such a horrible history of repressing its Black population, would show in a way that's harder to contest that things have changed, and would continue changing for the better.
Conversely, a victory for McCain to me would signify that most of what people consider core American values - democracy, equality, pluralism - are no more than a sham. It seems absurd to me that we could elect, in the 21 century, a president from a party that has missed the past few centuries, throughout which there has been a separation of church and state. I myself am a devout Christian, so I'm not speaking out of my ass. I would seriously reconsider staying in the US if McCain wins this election. His running mate, our beloved Mrs. Palin, is against most of who I am - gay and a foreigner. I guess my redeeming qualities are that I'm white and a male, which is just about as bad.
On a different, but tangentially related note, I've been feeling a little weird lately. I've been reading James Baldwin, who is a renowned American writer whose major themes are racism and homophobia, in particular in mid-20th century US. His writing has been a kind of shock for me, because it is one thing to know racism exists "out there", as a vague shapeless notion, and it's totally different to see it in excruciating, painful detail through the eyes of someone who experienced it in his life. The more I'm reading his book the more I want to put it down and cry for hours and hours, because not a single cell in my body can comprehend, or fail to be enraged by, the utter senselessness and violence of racism. I keep thinking whether I would be able to recover from the blows the characters took, whether my family would endure what the families in the book endured.
But what's really scary is that I see myself in this book through different, piercingly judging eyes. And what's more, I realize that this horrible image of me is very well justified, very much deserved. Suddenly being white has become a liability for me, just like being gay, because I know that there are many people out there that, even if they don't know me, would dislike me for who I am. But, whereas the former is an irrational hatred, the latter is very rationalized, it has a real reason. I know that I'm not American, I know that my country never took slaves regardless of color, I know that I am everything BUT racist, but I have been feeling ashamed, so deeply ashamed of my color. My aching question after reading all this, my burning question that might probably redeem me, and give me the cheap peace of mind I really need right now, is - is it different now? Do I really look like that to people of color? Is this really who they think I am and how I view them?
I like black men. It is a topic for a different blog post, suffice it to say it's not just a fetish I have. I have dated black men, and will continue to, hopefully, but now that I'm aware of my color, I've been thinking - how would that influence my hypothetical future relationship? Where/when would I be welcome/unwelcome in his life? What would be the burden on him that he has a white boyfriend? I walk in the streets of Seattle and I see white and black folks mingle and walk hand in hand, and I want to think that the nightmare is over, but I'm still not convinced. I've been unable, for a couple of weeks now, to look at black people in the eyes - I was so awkward when this cutie chatted me up in the campus shuttle the other day. Fortunately I was able to conjure up my gift of speech and we clicked nicely. But I don't know yet what it would take for me to go back to normal. And maybe I shouldn't?
I wish someone could answer my questions...
Showing posts with label Personal. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Personal. Show all posts
Saturday, November 1, 2008
Sunday, February 3, 2008
More Ramblings, on Transience of People
So apparently reading about Kantian ethics triggers a philosophical mood in me, or whatever :)
Up until recently I hadn't really bothered myself with ontological questions, such as life and death, but as of late I have been thinking a lot about such things. This is tangentially related to the graduation issue, about which I wrote the previous post.
As I was trying to figure out how to cope with the separation from the people who currently are my closest friends, I was thinking like this - you are going to meet new people, and make new close friends, and you will still have the degree of closeness and intimacy that you usually need. The argument seemed solid, considering that I faced a similar situation when I left Bulgaria for the States, and eventually made close friendships in the new environment.
However, this, and some other issues, made me think that the connections we create with other people are very temporary, very ephemeral. For a person like myself, moving out of your comfort zone and starting a life somewhere else is not an uncommon routine, nor will it be any less common in the near future - I'm moving over to Seattle, but after the first few months I'm moving over to Vancouver, where I'm staying between 5 months and a year, and then back to Seattle. Eventually (?) I'm returning to Bulgaria. So how many times is the above cycle of making new friends is going to repeat itself? Is it even worth it becoming emotionally attached to people, if you are going to have to say good-bye not too long after you've met?
When I talk to others I usually say that there are different kinds of friends - broadly speaking, those whose friendship lasts long and all the rest. I also say that a person is really lucky if he has friends that he may not see for a really long time, but once they are together it is obvious that the friendly feelings haven't diminished, and things can be continued from where they stopped. I am blessed with such friendships both in Bulgaria and in the US, so by my own criteria, I'm really lucky.
But somehow that doesn't solve it for me. What about the time of separation? What about missing all those people you've become emotionally attached to? What if you know you won't be able to see each other for a really long period of time? How do you cross the line, on one side of which you are together and everything you have is tangible, visible, concrete, and on the other side of which there is separation? I mean, I know how, but I'm asking - how do you do it in your mind and your heart so that it doesn't feel like something is being torn away from you?
To make things worse (or better?), I started thinking about mortality. I was in Dirt Cowboy one afternoon and I was looking outside thinking - "suppose Dartmouth is still here in 500 years. Probably few things will be the same - definitely the people will be different, and there will be no memory of me, or most of the people I know. The fashions and trends will be different - it will seem funny to these future Dartmouth students what things we found important 500 years ago - the shiny cars, the brand clothes, the attitudes." This made me think that most of what we worry about in life or find important, is often something temporary that matters only now, and won't always matter. The choice of car or house, the amount of money we have, the clothes we wear, the people we aspire to, the body image that we crave - all these things are, in essence, inconsequential. A car that's fashionable today will be outdated in a few years. Same with clothes. Houses grow old and are torn down. Famous people die and are replaced by new famous people. And even the perfect body ages and deviates, bit by bit, from the current idea of "perfection". So what's left that matters? What will be there as long as there is a human civilization? Moreover, how do we make sense of this realizing how short life is and how little time we have with those we consider "close"?
The answer to the first two questions I was able to give is - people. People are really what matters on this world. Granted, people also change, and some die while others are born, but they are sort of the persistent theme of the last few millennia, the "glue" that gives history and culture their continuous character, and I believe that would be so until there are people. One other obvious thing that has always been there and will always be there, and in fact hasn't changed, is God. Those who know me also know I'm a Christian, so I believe in God and indeed, if you think about it, He is the only real constant left after all temporary, mutable things are taken out of the picture. One of the reasons why people are, actually, the important thing on earth is that they carry a part of God in them, as they were modeled in His semblance. As to the last question, I think of it more as a call to action - we should appreciate every single moment with the people around us, because we i) don't know how much time we have left on earth, and ii) we move a lot and proximity is not something that can always last for too long, so we need to enjoy each other's company while we can.
Something tells me that none of my conclusions are surprising, and I'm wondering what's been clouding my vision, and by extension the vision of what appears to be a large fraction of people today.
Up until recently I hadn't really bothered myself with ontological questions, such as life and death, but as of late I have been thinking a lot about such things. This is tangentially related to the graduation issue, about which I wrote the previous post.
As I was trying to figure out how to cope with the separation from the people who currently are my closest friends, I was thinking like this - you are going to meet new people, and make new close friends, and you will still have the degree of closeness and intimacy that you usually need. The argument seemed solid, considering that I faced a similar situation when I left Bulgaria for the States, and eventually made close friendships in the new environment.
However, this, and some other issues, made me think that the connections we create with other people are very temporary, very ephemeral. For a person like myself, moving out of your comfort zone and starting a life somewhere else is not an uncommon routine, nor will it be any less common in the near future - I'm moving over to Seattle, but after the first few months I'm moving over to Vancouver, where I'm staying between 5 months and a year, and then back to Seattle. Eventually (?) I'm returning to Bulgaria. So how many times is the above cycle of making new friends is going to repeat itself? Is it even worth it becoming emotionally attached to people, if you are going to have to say good-bye not too long after you've met?
When I talk to others I usually say that there are different kinds of friends - broadly speaking, those whose friendship lasts long and all the rest. I also say that a person is really lucky if he has friends that he may not see for a really long time, but once they are together it is obvious that the friendly feelings haven't diminished, and things can be continued from where they stopped. I am blessed with such friendships both in Bulgaria and in the US, so by my own criteria, I'm really lucky.
But somehow that doesn't solve it for me. What about the time of separation? What about missing all those people you've become emotionally attached to? What if you know you won't be able to see each other for a really long period of time? How do you cross the line, on one side of which you are together and everything you have is tangible, visible, concrete, and on the other side of which there is separation? I mean, I know how, but I'm asking - how do you do it in your mind and your heart so that it doesn't feel like something is being torn away from you?
To make things worse (or better?), I started thinking about mortality. I was in Dirt Cowboy one afternoon and I was looking outside thinking - "suppose Dartmouth is still here in 500 years. Probably few things will be the same - definitely the people will be different, and there will be no memory of me, or most of the people I know. The fashions and trends will be different - it will seem funny to these future Dartmouth students what things we found important 500 years ago - the shiny cars, the brand clothes, the attitudes." This made me think that most of what we worry about in life or find important, is often something temporary that matters only now, and won't always matter. The choice of car or house, the amount of money we have, the clothes we wear, the people we aspire to, the body image that we crave - all these things are, in essence, inconsequential. A car that's fashionable today will be outdated in a few years. Same with clothes. Houses grow old and are torn down. Famous people die and are replaced by new famous people. And even the perfect body ages and deviates, bit by bit, from the current idea of "perfection". So what's left that matters? What will be there as long as there is a human civilization? Moreover, how do we make sense of this realizing how short life is and how little time we have with those we consider "close"?
The answer to the first two questions I was able to give is - people. People are really what matters on this world. Granted, people also change, and some die while others are born, but they are sort of the persistent theme of the last few millennia, the "glue" that gives history and culture their continuous character, and I believe that would be so until there are people. One other obvious thing that has always been there and will always be there, and in fact hasn't changed, is God. Those who know me also know I'm a Christian, so I believe in God and indeed, if you think about it, He is the only real constant left after all temporary, mutable things are taken out of the picture. One of the reasons why people are, actually, the important thing on earth is that they carry a part of God in them, as they were modeled in His semblance. As to the last question, I think of it more as a call to action - we should appreciate every single moment with the people around us, because we i) don't know how much time we have left on earth, and ii) we move a lot and proximity is not something that can always last for too long, so we need to enjoy each other's company while we can.
Something tells me that none of my conclusions are surprising, and I'm wondering what's been clouding my vision, and by extension the vision of what appears to be a large fraction of people today.
Ramblings After a Busy Weekend
Haha, never thought I would do the whole blog thing again, but here ya go :)
It just seems I've been getting introspective again, and I got tired of writing Facebook notes to spill out what's on my mind, so I guess this is a better medium (?).
It looks like I'm graduating from Dartmouth in June this year. The thought at once excites and frightens me. It's exciting because I'm moving over to Seattle and starting a new life, and a life really on my own. The fresh start thing seems to work pretty well for me, considering what coming to Dartmouth meant for my life. On the other hand, the thought that I am leaving this place left me in a sort of existential vacuum, that I was only able to fill after taking the time to really talk to myself, and try to grow more mature in the process. But here are some of the intermediate stages of that journey.
1. I guess I can't really explain it well even to my close friends at Dartmouth. This place has meant a lot for me, and changed my life in many, many ways. When I look back at the person I used to be, and the person I am now, it's always staggering because we are hardly similar anymore. I used to be judgmental of people. I was the moral standard, and the epitome of goodness, and everyone else was worse to a varying degree. Once people made a mistake, I wrote them off completely. Now that I have met tons of people and done tons of stupid shit, it's never my instinctive response to judge others, but rather try to understand them and see things through their eyes. I used to be a closeted, scared, shy, secretive, idealistic gay boy who kept everything to himself. After coming to Dartmouth, I opened myself to people and allowed myself to be human in front of others, i.e. have good moments AND bad moments; I stopped hiding my sexuality from myself and everyone else, stopped feeling bad about various aspects of myself; started actually liking the person I am. For everyone who's had body/confidence/interpersonal issues, you realize that's no small deal.
I also learned a lot. In my major - computer science. In the other fields I feel passionate about - music, linguistics and Spanish. I learned a lot about myself that I didn't know before - how many hours I need to sleep to be functional, how much pressure I can endure and still do a good job with what I'm doing, how different people can be, how I relate to all these different people, how to anticipate emotional lows and use friends' support to get myself out of them, how to feel good about myself and like my life, and so much more. I sang in a classical choir. I sang in a gospel choir. I went to Hawaii, and Switzerland and Italy with these choirs. I met people from everywhere. I worked in a copy center, two libraries, and Microsoft; I was a Spanish Teacher Assistant, and I taught my native language in a Miniversity class. I worked on projects in networking, AI, OS, interactive art, wireless data research, and whatnot. I fell in and out of love. I lived.
But probably the most important part is - I made close friends. Friends that I can not see for months and still have the same connection with once we are together. It was hard enough when some of them graduated over the past three years. It also made all of our, though rare, reunions quite an event, at least in my eyes. I now have a group of close friends, and graduation inevitably makes me think about the time we will not be together every day, and we will not be able to just go get dinner in EBA's or late Saturday brunch at Lou's, or just watch a movie and make fun of the actors/ourselves/the world at large. I kid you not, it's painful to think of this.
However, I found ways to reconcile the feelings of obvious and impending loss with my world view, and now, updated and readjusted, I'm waiting for what's coming my way. More of this later, though, because I have an exam to read for.
It just seems I've been getting introspective again, and I got tired of writing Facebook notes to spill out what's on my mind, so I guess this is a better medium (?).
It looks like I'm graduating from Dartmouth in June this year. The thought at once excites and frightens me. It's exciting because I'm moving over to Seattle and starting a new life, and a life really on my own. The fresh start thing seems to work pretty well for me, considering what coming to Dartmouth meant for my life. On the other hand, the thought that I am leaving this place left me in a sort of existential vacuum, that I was only able to fill after taking the time to really talk to myself, and try to grow more mature in the process. But here are some of the intermediate stages of that journey.
1. I guess I can't really explain it well even to my close friends at Dartmouth. This place has meant a lot for me, and changed my life in many, many ways. When I look back at the person I used to be, and the person I am now, it's always staggering because we are hardly similar anymore. I used to be judgmental of people. I was the moral standard, and the epitome of goodness, and everyone else was worse to a varying degree. Once people made a mistake, I wrote them off completely. Now that I have met tons of people and done tons of stupid shit, it's never my instinctive response to judge others, but rather try to understand them and see things through their eyes. I used to be a closeted, scared, shy, secretive, idealistic gay boy who kept everything to himself. After coming to Dartmouth, I opened myself to people and allowed myself to be human in front of others, i.e. have good moments AND bad moments; I stopped hiding my sexuality from myself and everyone else, stopped feeling bad about various aspects of myself; started actually liking the person I am. For everyone who's had body/confidence/interpersonal issues, you realize that's no small deal.
I also learned a lot. In my major - computer science. In the other fields I feel passionate about - music, linguistics and Spanish. I learned a lot about myself that I didn't know before - how many hours I need to sleep to be functional, how much pressure I can endure and still do a good job with what I'm doing, how different people can be, how I relate to all these different people, how to anticipate emotional lows and use friends' support to get myself out of them, how to feel good about myself and like my life, and so much more. I sang in a classical choir. I sang in a gospel choir. I went to Hawaii, and Switzerland and Italy with these choirs. I met people from everywhere. I worked in a copy center, two libraries, and Microsoft; I was a Spanish Teacher Assistant, and I taught my native language in a Miniversity class. I worked on projects in networking, AI, OS, interactive art, wireless data research, and whatnot. I fell in and out of love. I lived.
But probably the most important part is - I made close friends. Friends that I can not see for months and still have the same connection with once we are together. It was hard enough when some of them graduated over the past three years. It also made all of our, though rare, reunions quite an event, at least in my eyes. I now have a group of close friends, and graduation inevitably makes me think about the time we will not be together every day, and we will not be able to just go get dinner in EBA's or late Saturday brunch at Lou's, or just watch a movie and make fun of the actors/ourselves/the world at large. I kid you not, it's painful to think of this.
However, I found ways to reconcile the feelings of obvious and impending loss with my world view, and now, updated and readjusted, I'm waiting for what's coming my way. More of this later, though, because I have an exam to read for.
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