Monday, October 28, 2013

Treats Without the Tricks...

Recently I arrived at the conclusion that I can no longer attend Halloween parties. I fear that to continue to do so will cause an aortic combustion that could either kill me; or leave me a rutabaga or will cause me to abandon my principles of non-violence. Quite frankly, I don’t look good in orange jump suits. I am not tall enough nor thin enough to pull them off and the color does nothing for my complexion. And I am extremely averse to surrendering my freedom because of the insensitivity, cultural appropriation and the flat out racism of my fellow party goers.

Halloween is an exceptional visualization into the depth of racism that continues to thrive in America. The range of the inappropriate is extensive. Some examples include white people who are wearing Rastifarian hats with yarn dreadlocks, others put on afros and dress up as a “pimp”, inevitably there’s the ubiquitous feather head dress and other Indian attire, and some put a bindi on their forehead and wear saris. There has also been black face this Halloween season, such as that perpetrated by Julianne Hough in her portrayal of Crazy Eyes from Orange is the New Black. Worse yet, in an act so heartless and racist as to be unbelievable, yet we must for it has happened; some are donning black face and hoodies portraying a murdered Trayvon Martin.

There is no rationale that provides for a pass to engage in this behavior. As a Latina, Mexican-American I find all of the above extremely culturally offensive. My ire from a personal perspective is particularly sparked when white people dress up in serapes, sombreros and mustaches as a costume. First of all we do not go around in this caricature of a stereotype - drinking tequila, wearing serapes, sombreros, big mustaches and shaking maracas.

Our food, our clothes, our beer, our tequila, our Frida Kahlo, etc., these are all the things that white people love about Mexicans and Mexican-Americans, everything except us – the people. Our women are eroticized while our men our criminalized and our youth are pushed and shoved into the school to prison pipeline. Despite the fact that farmworkers who are predominately of Mexican origins put the majority of America’s food on the table there continues to be a strong anti-immigrant and anti-“other” opposition to Latinos by many whites in America.

If the average white person understood the history of the relationship between Mexico and America, if they took the time to really learn about and respect our culture, if they really wanted to show respect for the culture, they’d never, ever use it as a costume.

My mother’s family were farmworkers, my mother was a farmworker and for a time I was as well. My mother had two infant brothers die of starvation during the 1930’s. Her family working as farmworkers barely had enough to keep themselves alive. When a mother can’t produce milk because of her own malnutrition, babies die. My mom’s mother died when my mom was 3 years old, because there was no medical care for a poor brown woman who lived in a shack at the edge of the fields.

When my mother was a little girl, she and two of her brothers could not go into the store that was closest to their home, it was whites only. They used to send in her third brother who was much lighter in skin tone than she and the other two brothers. If he wasn’t with them they had to walk miles to the store that they could go into.

When my mom was older she went into “service”, she was a maid for a wealthy white family in Dallas. For many women who have been farmworkers, this is a step up, a way out of the fields. So, my mom cleaned rich people’s toilets and ironed the Mr.’s underwear, because this was the kind of work that was available for a young Mexican-American woman.

When white people appropriate the cultural attire and customs of people of color for costumes or mascots they trivialize the struggles that many have endured at the hands of the institutional racism that is prevalent in this country. They play dress up for fun, play Mexican, Indian, Black, etc. for a day and then take off the costumes and return to their world. Regardless of their own class status they exact a privilege of skin color that will never be available to people of color within the realm of how the structure of race and ethnicity works today. And let me just put this out there. You don’t have to be black to know that wearing black face and pretending to be a murdered black child is wrong, wrong, wrong!

Remember, it’s not the Golden Rule that says to treat people how you want to be treated. The reality is that your cultural and personal experiences are vastly different from those who are people of color. Try on the Platinum Rule, treat others the way that they tell you that they want to be treated.

Finally, not only is it racist, ethnocentric and highly inappropriate to use other folk’s culture for a Halloween costume; it’s lazy. I have seen so many incredible creative costumes that had nothing to do with anyone’s culture, race or ethnic origin. Use your imagination people! You can win better best costume prizes and not risk giving me an aneurysm.


Monday, October 7, 2013

Throwing Babies Out With the Bathwater

Okay. So let me get this straight. The House, the very same group that has shut down the government and refuses to do the job at hand (of passing a budget), has now passed a bill seeking to authorize back pay for all furloughed workers. SERIOUSLY?!

You take the government hostage after not being able to thwart the Affordable Care Act, you put hundreds of thousands of workers out of work, you bring the government's business to a screeching halt, all the while claiming to be the sole party of fiscal responsibility and now you are basically giving furloughed workers a paid vacation to NOT WORK and do their jobs while you continue to hold the country hostage?!!

And once again folks, this is a duly passed law by the United States Congress, which means the Senate AND the House BOTH had to approve it! It has withstood a challenge in the Supreme Court. As with any law there will be those who don't like it. But the bottom line is that it does provide a means for so many more Americans to have access to health care. And yes, it's true, some folks will see their insurance rates go up. The vast majority will not. It's also true, we don't know the scope of this law, as with others, such as Medicaid/Medicare and Social Security there will surely be kinks to work out.

As for cost, maybe if we spent a little less on weapons and wars (almost 800 BILLION annually!) there'd be enough to take care of our country's people and infrastructure. It's been estimated that about 18 BILLION dollars of American money sent to Iraq to help re-build the country has simply disappeared and no one seems to know where it went! And let's not forget that Iraq has cost this country more than a TRILLION, yes I said TRILLION, dollars!! And what if the Republicans focused on job creation and living wages across the board instead of their little pork projects and instead of attacking a program geared to HELP the nation's people??!!

The Republicans have tried to repeal the law FORTY-ONE times within the framework of how our nation's laws are passed and upheld. FORT-ONE times they have failed to stop the ACA. They tried to use the courts to circumvent the law, again FAILED! And now in a last ditch effort to repeal the law or delay it they have taken our country hostage, put hundreds of thousands of people out of work and now want to cost the nation significantly more money by offering to provide back-pay to the very people they put out of work while they continue to paralyze the government!

The media keeps casting this as both parties refusing to negotiate! This is NOT about a negotiation. This is about a party that has members who have tried all legal means to get rid of the ACA and FAILED. They are defying the law making process of this country and the means to overturn disliked legislation, strapping on their six shooters and turning Congress into the Wild West with a take no prisoners mentality.

And last but not least. Here's what I personally think is the most critical thing we cannot lose sight of in this debacle. If the Tea Party faction of the Republican party is allowed to win this, the end of bi-partisanship is here, right now. It's been staggering along already, but this is surely a death knell. These guys don't care how many babies they throw out with the bathwater, they mean to win, by any means necessary. If allowed to win what will they go after next? Notoriously homophobic, anti-choice, anti-labor, anti-poor people, anti-immigrant, etc. WHAT and WHO will they put their sights on next?

Paying furloughed workers is a nice gesture, certainly one meant to hopefully curtail the heat the party is deservedly taking from this stunt. But it is not the answer. We, the American People need you to do your job and pass a clean budget. Period.

No party should be allowed to get away with what these guys are up to! EVER! And we as the American people better step it up calling them out on this.

Wednesday, September 4, 2013

For the Love...

To stay in a place of love in this work requires effort. More than any partner or child has ever called for. It requires a constant state of patience and forgiveness. It requires one to rise above pettiness, hurt, anger and selfishness. 

Working from a place of love in the face of systemic oppressive institutions and the chicanery of your own feels like dancing on razor blades. And still...love is required. 

Love asks of us a pragmatism of giant proportions. Love requires that we care when it seems that we cannot for one second more. Love requires that we patch our hearts together though they be broken and bleeding. For truly... Every single act of change has stood upon the shoulders of love. 

Sometimes I am afraid I will run out of duct tape to hold this heart together. But then someone else standing in a place of love hands me a roll and reminds me of the meaning of...love.






Thursday, June 6, 2013

Pensacola




Eating up the highway like starving 12 year old boys on a journey with friends who are more kin than not. Horseplay and water fights at the gas station soaking the not so innocent bystander. Conversations take turns round the interior like squirrels leaping from limb to limb. Throwing hands out the window wind whistling through fingers as we chant "Almost there, almost there" and the sky's all blue like the kind that marks those perfect days as lyrics float out of the speakers, hidden voices singing us on our way as we dance in our seats on the way to sun, sand, the ocean. The forecast predictions of scattered drunkenness, delicious meals and dancing as if we never had before.  And it will all be so amazing that we'll look back on this time and say, "yeah. That was a hell of a trip!" Hey! Just saw a sign! We’re almost there!  Almost there…



































Randi M. Romo March 2013 ©

Wednesday, June 5, 2013

The Night You Disappeared



The Night You Disappeared

The screen door
slammed shut
a rifle crack of sound
that split the air…creating
a silence so profound
it was as if the earth
and all she carries
upon her face
had together of
one accord…
stopped breathing

And then the crickets
begin again and a
man on the front and one
on the rear carries you
across the porch
their breath coming hard
as they lift you up
over the step
and you’re so beautiful
eyes closed peacefully
hair a shining black halo
framing your silent face
stark against the white
of stretcher sheets

I sit up high in my
crow’s nest of a
strange man’s arms
peering over his shoulder
heady with the scent
of his aftershave
Old Spice, I think…
not really knowing
what the tableau
before me means
as you disappeared
into the gaping maw
of a white, red bubble
topped vehicle that
flashed and screamed you
away from me / from us
into the void of night

I didn’t know then
the hurt that you carried
so deep that it was ground
into the DNA of your
bones, your blood and
your brain…all tiny
silvery razorblades of
pain that cut away your
smile a little more
bit by bit until your teeth
no longer saw the
light of day

I didn’t understand an agony
that could make you
want to disappear…forever

For a long time about
that night I didn’t remember
the ceremony of your
preparations to leave us
how you bathed us and
dressed us all up
in our Sunday best
my two brothers and I
how you sat us upon
the sofa all in a row
so shiny and perfect
while you took yourself
in your finest raiment
behind the bathroom door
where with the click of a lock
you embarked upon
your journey…no luggage
needed as you swallowed
your one way ticket

You came back one day
but not really…the absence
it was there…in your eyes
for a very long time
I missed you so much

R.M. Romo June 2013 ©

Tuesday, April 2, 2013

Home is Where the Rooster Crows


My mother lives and works in a rural agricultural farmworker community that sits on the outskirts of Dade City, Florida. I love to go home to visit, this place where I too have lived and worked. But no matter how often I go home, it always takes me a bit to adjust to the sounds. There are cars going by on the street, just outside the window with their stereos blasting Mexican music. It’s always the whine followed by the quick riffs of the accordion that you hear first. Sometimes it's other folk who come driving through and the bass rattles the windows, boom, boom and you can feel it all the way into the back of your teeth. Sirens at intervals punctuate the days and nights, their piercing cries a sharp reminder that it’s not only angels who walk among us. And every now and then a sheriff's car rockets down the main street of this little community so fast it lifts shirt tails and blows back your hair,  

There’s lots of people who walk in this neighborhood; workers going to and from work, mothers with strollers and little ones tagging behind, teens trying to hold themselves at just the right angle to be considered cool enough and elders out for constitutions. Calls of buenos dias along with the ensuing conversations fall like sporadic spring showers as people pass one another. Yes, it’s a tough neighborhood, but manners still matter.

The taco stand across from my mom's house stays busy. Cars and trucks pull in and out, doors slamming throughout the day as people stop by for food. You can get the best agua frescas there. I like the sandia the best. They also have my favorite tacos, barbacoa con cilantro, lime and onion with just the perfect salsa verde on freshly made hot corn tortillas. On Sundays the men line up for their menudo to counter the cruda from their celebrations of the night before. The covered picnic tables in front of the trailer are filled with people eating, talking and laughing. Children dart between the tables and race around the little stand. An errant dog picks its way carefully between the feet and legs at the tables searching for bits of food that may have fallen to the ground.

Serving as a backdrop to the Sunday ritual at the taco trailer is a mixture of Mexican music from nearby houses and cars driving by as well as the small African-American centric church on the opposite corner. The church has a speaker wired up outside and they broadcast their services. The musicians and singers are quite good. And it is in the midst of all this cacophony that I feel it most, this is home.  

But I must confess that there is one bit of noise that no matter where I have encountered it, I have never become accustomed to it; the crowing of a rooster. At home it is not uncommon for there to be various broods of chickens ranging about different parts of the community. Despite her claims that they are not her chickens, one such brood has taken up residence in my mother’s backyard, accompanied by their very own rooster.

This past trip home, a very rude and overly ambitious rooster crowed me awake every morning around two am. Once he stopped I would eventually fall back asleep, whereupon he would almost immediately begin his next round of crowing. It was as if he had a little chicken spy peering in the side of the blinds giving him the signal of when to commence again. Talk about your “peeps”!

I truly desire to bring none harm, but I fear that had I not left and returned to my own home when I did that there may have well been a rooster gone missing. And if any thought to notice the absence of SeƱor Gallo, that loud, raucous early morning songster, I would have smiled serenely as I ladled out servings of a delicious pollo en mole pobalno.

Thursday, March 14, 2013

We The People



The U.S. has had a long history of separating out some of its residents and treating them as less than. In some cases actively causing harm and/or death as well as legislating against them. Indigenous people, Africans and their descendants, people of different faiths, Asian Pacific Islanders, various immigrant groups, women, Latinos, etc. And in each and every case, it has ultimately been acknowledged that the treatment of these and other groups was oppressive, unwarranted, cruel and inhumane. 

An often overlooked fact, despite being a critical lynchpin to an analysis, is the fact that various manifestations of organized religion has in every single case of these occurrences been a significant part of the foundation for the justification of the systemic oppression, harm and even murder of different groups. Example: The concept of Manifest Destiny. The idea that white men had a divine destiny to expand across America.

Today the LGBTQ community struggles to be equal under the law, just as so many others have before us. And yet, despite all of the historical examples and the knowledge that this country has been rife with harmful, even deadly prejudicial discrimination the discriminatory practices and laws continue.  And as it has harmed so many others, organized religion (not all but enough) continues to serve as a foundation for oppression.

“We the People” -  it means ALL of the people!