27 and a PhD

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Monthly Archives: February 2017

Living while brown

My husband and I were not raised in the US. We’re (proud) latinos. We excelled in school, got good grades, went to the US and Canada for our fancy degrees. We do cool stuff in the classroom and in the lab.

I can sometimes pass as a white person .. until I open my mouth and start swearing in Spanish. Spanish is my mother tongue .. one I am proud to speak, celebrate, live and breathe.

My husband is brown. He’s got dark hair, facial hair, he’s tall, skinny, uses his handsĀ  more than I do, and speaks Spanish even louder than me. He’s proud of everything he is and everything he does.

We both went to good schools, passed all our standardized tests, got into even better schools, completed PhDs. We’re hard working US citizens, we pay our taxes, he goes to church. We’re not on the lookout for trouble. We’re proud of who we are, but also recognize we’re part of a much bigger picture.

Yesterday, while driving around, he shared that he now carries his passport with him at all times. It’s on the briefcase he uses to carry tests and class materials. He’s even thought of carrying his birth certificate (in English), just so that if he’s stopped, he’ll have proof that he’s a law abiding, brown person, that happens to live in the US.

We don’t carry guns, we don’t like wars, we recycle, we don’t drink or smoke, we were both raised in Christian households …. one would think that all that would be enough to avoid some of the hate and intolerance.

But we know better. We know that the current political climate (and let’s not kid ourselves, as far back as 2001 (when my husband got stopped many times, even while not sporting a beard)), and especially after the 2008 and 2012 elections, brown folks, black folks, people with facial hair and/or hair coverings, they all get harassed and discriminated. A lot.

After the Women’s March we wanted to try a new place in town … a town that’s a liberal den, for the most part. A man saw our shirts (which identified us as participants of the march) and went on a tirade about how protesters should STFU, suck it up, and look for a job like the hard working AMERICANS who voted for the current ruler of this land. He added that if it was up to him, he’d shoot protesters for causing all this mayhem (referring to the people who vandalized property in DC the day before the march).

My husband and I looked at each other and repeated his words in our minds. We held hands, waited till Mr Patriotism vacated the premises and immediately left the local place we were excited to try … because we happen to like supporting local businesses and keeping our hard earned dollars in our town but decided to join forces with thousands of others to denounce racism, sexism, xenophobia, homophobia.

I feel tired, restless, but also afraid one (or both of us) will get shot. Our jobs (unfortunately) can’t be done by the average folk who depended on (sometimes local, mostly national) manufacturing or mining, or construction, industries. We’re too specialized, invested too much time, in learning a tiny niche, in the grand scheme of our areas of training, to be easily taken over by the fine man who threatened to shoot protestors. We’re part of the liberal elite, disconnected from the fears and struggles of the average Joe. It’s not like my husband teaches about what monopolies do to the local and national economies and why and how that contributes to Mr average Joe with a gun not having a job, a livelihood. It’s not like he teaches about power and class struggles and how lack of regulation of markets, economy and resources affects people’s everyday lives. Nahhh … he’s just smoking a pipe of fancy tobacco, wearing tweed, filingĀ  his nails and telling his students to STFU and grow their hair like hippies … nahh, it’s not like he’s teaching rich kids from the rich parts of Nassau county how to make informed decisions about anything from the products they consume, the decisions that make it easy (or hard) for average Joe to actually get a job. Nahh.

I, on the other hand, scratch my imaginary balls, while killing unborn babies with my lab instruments (FTR, I’ve never worked with human tissue and hope not to). I absolutely DON’T work with local companies to help them understand their products and how to make them better, and expand their services to help revitalize the area. Nahh … that’s stuff big wigs in the cabinet of the emperor with no clothes do.

Ultimately, I don’t know if our differences will be resolved, IF we’ll get to understand each other. But while my living in your neighbourhood and going to work every day does not threaten YOUR existence, your shitty decisions, your hate for what my husband and I do, your lack of understanding, even when we try to communicate what we do … the very decision to call protesters terrorists and tell them to STFU and better yet, threaten to take me and my fellow human, peacefully assemble to protest injustice, to say that racism IS a problem, that sexism HURTS, that not protecting the rights of “the least among you” … all those DO threaten my existence. If you can’t see and accept that, then you may as well erase who I am …. because in your view, I don’t count. I’m nothing, not a human … because I’m not white, don’t practice your exact brand of Christianity, and don’t defend the “rights” that keep me oppressed, and worse, are a death sentence to everyone like me.