waiting for my flight and a second glass of wine
I would be remiss if I made it seem like moving around and travel is all fun and games, because it's not. For a plethora of reasons, sometimes it's really hard. Sometimes you see things that are hard to understand and digest, like violence, and I'm often reminded of how fucked up and unfair the world is. Usually when I am confronted with the world's injustices, at home or abroad, it makes me really upset.
Here's an example.
In my travels recently, the premium that exists on light (AKA "beautiful") skin, a standard that applies primarily to women, has been blindingly apparent in every country I've been to in Africa and Asia. While I think that many of us who are interested in race and oppression would read that and say "of course," there is a different application and expression of this globalized racist norm from what I observe in the US. I hate seeing every facial product in the drug store promise whiter skin, and women wearing make-up three shades lighter than their natural skin tone, and billboards of blondes in countries where blondes are not native, and women and children telling me that my skin (but even more so than mine, which is a little tan, white folks' skin) is pretty and theirs isn't, because it shouldn't be that way. But it is.
I work actively to be aware of how individuals manifest systemic oppressions, so when I speak of getting upset I do not want to give the impression that I feel bad for or pity a woman in Cambodia or Senegal who puts her arm up to mine and tells me mine is prettier, because it's not really about them. For me what's upsetting is the ways that some people in the history of our world have imposed standards on everyone that are only beneficial to a few, at the expense of many. At the same time, I also know that my skin color, mannerisms, and most importantly, passport from the USA (AKA privilege) are hugely influential in my ability to even get around. My experiences with movement just illuminate how complicated life is, and that there are no easy answers. But it's OK because I like learning about and trying to understand complexity. On occasion I attribute Why I Travel to an addiction to new experiences. It's like I can't stop putting myself in new, challenging environments, seeing how I hold up and then come out on the other end. It's some kind of personal test I do over and over and over again. In spite of and because of the hards times. So far I think it's made be a better person, and lord knows I can't stop yet.
Here's an example.
In my travels recently, the premium that exists on light (AKA "beautiful") skin, a standard that applies primarily to women, has been blindingly apparent in every country I've been to in Africa and Asia. While I think that many of us who are interested in race and oppression would read that and say "of course," there is a different application and expression of this globalized racist norm from what I observe in the US. I hate seeing every facial product in the drug store promise whiter skin, and women wearing make-up three shades lighter than their natural skin tone, and billboards of blondes in countries where blondes are not native, and women and children telling me that my skin (but even more so than mine, which is a little tan, white folks' skin) is pretty and theirs isn't, because it shouldn't be that way. But it is.
I work actively to be aware of how individuals manifest systemic oppressions, so when I speak of getting upset I do not want to give the impression that I feel bad for or pity a woman in Cambodia or Senegal who puts her arm up to mine and tells me mine is prettier, because it's not really about them. For me what's upsetting is the ways that some people in the history of our world have imposed standards on everyone that are only beneficial to a few, at the expense of many. At the same time, I also know that my skin color, mannerisms, and most importantly, passport from the USA (AKA privilege) are hugely influential in my ability to even get around. My experiences with movement just illuminate how complicated life is, and that there are no easy answers. But it's OK because I like learning about and trying to understand complexity. On occasion I attribute Why I Travel to an addiction to new experiences. It's like I can't stop putting myself in new, challenging environments, seeing how I hold up and then come out on the other end. It's some kind of personal test I do over and over and over again. In spite of and because of the hards times. So far I think it's made be a better person, and lord knows I can't stop yet.
No comments:
Post a Comment