Family dinners at my mom's house are rarely peaceful occasions. That's not saying they aren't fun, just very loud and usually have arguments about either religion, race or politics that punctuate themselves throughout the evening.
Last night we were happily arguing about politics and race, letting religion lie for the moment.
...that's funny in itself, religion...lie.... hmmmm
Because we are in North Carolina, a state that is quite an embarrassment right now, the 'conversation' was pretty much one sided. Mostly, we all agree that McCrory, the douche Governor, is a moron. Add to that the fact that my family produces teachers like retirement communities produce herpes, there is very little love for the conservative bone heads in the state legislature. But because no conversation can become an enjoyable argument without the consenting view, we have a token republican. We also have a slathering of normal conservatives, intelligent liberals and even a few that would be considered an ugly experiment child between a socialist and a libertarian. Mix all of us together, and there is a tv show in the works.
So the argument got exciting when our token, concealed weapon toting, right winger defended the Governor and his right to spend over 200k to refurbish the bathrooms in the governors mansion. ...when the state can't afford teacher assistants, or teacher raises. Teachers didn't get a raise last year. We are near the bottom of teacher pay in our 50 states. 45th. So indeed, let's put in 9 new bathrooms, and don't forget the bidets or adding flecks of gold to the toilet seats. ...turns out, the all mighty Governor decided it was not such a great idea (after we the people found out what he was going to do), so the bathroom renovations are not going to happen on taxpayer money. But that didn't alter the probability of a nice and heated conversation. In fact, it makes it that much more fun. Since it is all in our imagination, we can add points to bolster our point of view that have no hooks in reality. Like the fact that he only uses two bathrooms, and the others already have gold in the seats, so really it would only cost 2k per bathroom for mold removal and a bidet. And he should have to pay for the refurbishment himself, because the mold in the bathroom is there because the Governor doesn't aim well.
If you go to his place for Halloween, don't ask to use the loo.
After we thoroughly ran his name through the poo, ahem, we moved on to this...
The relationship between the 'n' word and the 'g' word.
Now, I know you are all scratching your heads thinking 'g' word?' And I know that not one person will question what 'n' word I am talking about. There really are only a few words that are referred to by their first initial; the N word, the F word, and the C word. So where does 'g' fit in?
My mom's side of the family has pretty deep ties to Ireland. I think my grandmother was second generation American, which is to say, all American. But there are those that cling to their family history. I think that's because when you think of 'American', you picture either a fat white man in socks and sandals with a sunburn and a huge camera strapped around his neck.... or you think of pompous white men in curly white wigs. Either way, uncool. So we hold tight to anything in our past that is interesting. So the women on my mom's side have held tight to being Irish. They even have the red hair and light complexion to boot. I was left out of the interesting trait group, with mousy brownish blondish hair, so I guess my knickers don't get in as much of a twist when I hear the term 'ginger.' Yup, the 'g' word.
Well, the conversation came up when one of the family related a story in which she was asked by a customer if being a ginger was natural. In a not so nice way, I should add. I thought that the insult was more because it was sexually derogative in nature, she felt that the word ginger was the insulting piece, and compared it to being called an 'n' word if you were black.
This is when my white guilt kicked in. I argued that it did not have the same connotation, at least in America. I also argued that there are probably more Americans that don't know what 'ginger' would be referring to than do know. That's when I learned that South Park, the hilariously rude cartoon that I haven't watched for 15+ years, throws ginger insults daily. But really, I have no place to talk, or argue. I'm about the least minoritish person on the planet. I'm average in about any test there is for figuring minority status. Sometimes I wish I were black, mostly for the hair, or gay, hair again. Because there isn't much out there for a white, blondish brownish, blueish eyed American girl to get angry about. I missed the womens lib movement, war protests, and being able to be one of the white roadies with the Black Panthers. Maybe that's why I get so emotional when my kids won't eat the Indian dinner I cooked. 'There are starving babies in India that would eat our dog food, so be happy with this dinner!!!!' I yell, steam screaming out of my ears. Because I have nothing holding me back. The world is my oyster, and I'm pissed that I know that.
I envy the women in Saudi Arabia that get to throw caution to the wind, possibly doing
damage to their ovaries, and drive a car. Women in Afghanistan that have to fight for rights to be educated. Women in India that have to unite with each other for the safety to walk down the street. I often wonder why the conscious that is me ended up in this body, in America, part of this wonderfully crazy family. I have to be reminded, more than should be normal, that I am not actually a black girl, that I am just another white girl with white privilege, so what exactly do I have to be angry about.
.....nothing.
But maybe that's ok. Because I know how stinking lucky I am. I have a house, a car, an education, a family that loves me and won't ever think about selling me, no matter how much my crazy comes out.
