Hiding behind my blog xx
Sunday, 24 August 2014
Saturday, 23 August 2014
Sweet cherry, extraordinary
I asked a boy out yesterday.
I've been doing this really provoking course at uni called introduction to Indigenous Studies, at first - admittedly - I thought I would just be re-learning the politics of racism and minorities in the fancy-pants context of a university classroom... However, in reality, the course has taught me a shit tonne. Not exactly about significant dates, or any concrete history; I probably haven't totally absorbed any of those details yet, since my mind seems to let slip anything that doesn't speak directly to my soul. Mainly, I've learnt about identity - and what it means to have total control of your own.
I believe most privileged peoples take their identity for granted. By that, I'm not simply saying they're taking their upper-middle-class status, or their abruptly-hired Caucasian last name for granted - I'm saying their true privilege lies in the fact that they take being an individual for granted. Being a socially recognised, individual human being. One that speaks, sings, erupts, hurts, and caresses all to the beat of their own drum.
Sorry... lost my train of thought because my drunk best friend just showed up at my doorstep in an unpaid cab with no bag. Wait, let me think lol.
Ok. That's precisely it. Looking at my peaceful best friend, lying next to me - hogging MY blanket - brings up a whole range of thought tangents. I'm going to exemplify her as the "privileged" in this particular context (given, all people are dynamic and can't be grouped like this in reality) - she's blind drunk; passed out. For what reason? Is she a drunkard? Is this behaviour inevitable? Is it in her nature or character? NO. We wouldn't assume these things first. Is she heartbroken? Possibly. A melancholy, troubled intellectual? People could see that. A twenty-something, fun girl who's taken it just a little too far on a Friday night? Ding ding ding! Next question please...
We assume there's a problem. We ask her if she's ok; what's so wrong to make her drink too much - did she have a bad week? Let me pose this question: Do you ask the Aboriginal man on the sidewalk on the way to Redfern station if he's had a rough week? I'm not trying to make you feel overwhelming guilt or confusion, I'm just hoping that we all can reflect. Think about it, it's an invisible prison.
That's actually a quote from one of the readings I'm critiquing atm. These ideas of constructs, subtle superiority complexes and pure ignorance having the power to enclose an entire population of people is astonishing. The fact that the greater population does it without realising is honestly heartbreaking to me.
At one point, I'll admit, I was one of those people that would smile at the ground and walk past. But it's just different now. I'm not ashamed, or guilty... I'm just aware. Hmm. I'm sleepy. I might continue on this topic later, but now it's time for bed.
Sweet dreams everyone
Mielz x
I've been doing this really provoking course at uni called introduction to Indigenous Studies, at first - admittedly - I thought I would just be re-learning the politics of racism and minorities in the fancy-pants context of a university classroom... However, in reality, the course has taught me a shit tonne. Not exactly about significant dates, or any concrete history; I probably haven't totally absorbed any of those details yet, since my mind seems to let slip anything that doesn't speak directly to my soul. Mainly, I've learnt about identity - and what it means to have total control of your own.
I believe most privileged peoples take their identity for granted. By that, I'm not simply saying they're taking their upper-middle-class status, or their abruptly-hired Caucasian last name for granted - I'm saying their true privilege lies in the fact that they take being an individual for granted. Being a socially recognised, individual human being. One that speaks, sings, erupts, hurts, and caresses all to the beat of their own drum.
Sorry... lost my train of thought because my drunk best friend just showed up at my doorstep in an unpaid cab with no bag. Wait, let me think lol.
Ok. That's precisely it. Looking at my peaceful best friend, lying next to me - hogging MY blanket - brings up a whole range of thought tangents. I'm going to exemplify her as the "privileged" in this particular context (given, all people are dynamic and can't be grouped like this in reality) - she's blind drunk; passed out. For what reason? Is she a drunkard? Is this behaviour inevitable? Is it in her nature or character? NO. We wouldn't assume these things first. Is she heartbroken? Possibly. A melancholy, troubled intellectual? People could see that. A twenty-something, fun girl who's taken it just a little too far on a Friday night? Ding ding ding! Next question please...
We assume there's a problem. We ask her if she's ok; what's so wrong to make her drink too much - did she have a bad week? Let me pose this question: Do you ask the Aboriginal man on the sidewalk on the way to Redfern station if he's had a rough week? I'm not trying to make you feel overwhelming guilt or confusion, I'm just hoping that we all can reflect. Think about it, it's an invisible prison.
That's actually a quote from one of the readings I'm critiquing atm. These ideas of constructs, subtle superiority complexes and pure ignorance having the power to enclose an entire population of people is astonishing. The fact that the greater population does it without realising is honestly heartbreaking to me.
At one point, I'll admit, I was one of those people that would smile at the ground and walk past. But it's just different now. I'm not ashamed, or guilty... I'm just aware. Hmm. I'm sleepy. I might continue on this topic later, but now it's time for bed.
Sweet dreams everyone
Mielz x
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