macaroonsie asked:


Terry: Alright, uhm…let’s see…Black card says, “And the Academy Award for _______ goes to ________.” So….cast in the choices.

Melody: Hmm…Ah geez, I don’t know if I’ll win with this one but here you go, Terry~!

Terry: [Chuckles] I’m sure it’ll be somewhat humorous. Finnick?

Finnick: [WHEEZING]

Terry: Finnick, just give me the card then. Let’s read yours first then since you seem positively ecstatic about whatever you have chosen. “And the Academy Award for fiery poops goes to…Terry Bellington’s tolerance for mexICAN FOOD, NELSON. FUCK OFF.”

Also, when did African Americans hold a convention to decide what black is? And why did they not mention this to the rest of the atlas?…

…You don’t have to tell me what black sounds like. White people have spent centuries trying to fit me into stereotypes. But Black on Black oppression just doesn’t come in my size

—  Maya Wegerif, Why You Talk So white?

I talked to my dad earlier & he told me a story about his childhood that I’d never heard before.

We were talking about Thanksgiving & “traditional” food for the holiday & w/e & started to tell me about how, when he was growing up, his family would have tamales & empanadas on Thanksgiving, they would just have more of it. They always wanted a turkey like they saw on TV & stuff, and one year my grandfather had killed four wild turkeys and so the kids were all excited because they thought they’d finally get their Thanksgiving turkey like the white people on TV.

Grampa put the kibosh on this idea, though. Apparently when he heard about it, he was pretty pissed (knowing Grampa, I don’t doubt this at all). His plan for the turkeys was that Grandma would cook them up and combine the meat with some javelina, venison, and boar’s head (like, the head of a boar, not the brand of deli meat you get at the grocery store or w/e) and make it all into tamales. See, there were 8 kids and then Grandma & Grampa, so all the food had to last as long as possible. Roasting a turkey for one meal wasn’t practical, I suppose. 

So Grandma made the quadruple meat tamales (which sound rilly good, tbh) and apparently there were so many that they lasted through Christmas.

the thing that intrigues me about this story is that, since I never really liked the idea of Thanksgiving (and am not much of a fan of turkey), as a teenager I started trying to get my family to have tamales, enchiladas, arroz con pollo, etc, on Thanksgiving instead of the “traditional” food.

i’ve been thinking about submitting my paper to a conference for awhile - it’s my crit thesis on theory & craft of code switching in contemporary xican@ poetry - and the call for proposals at Split This Rock just went out. “perfect!” i thought. the theme is poetry of provocation and witness! for a social justice poetry festival! i went last year and it was very cool and weird!

a note at the end of the call for proposals: “No academic papers. Please avoid jargon of any kind.”


Solidaridad Alo Xican@

I’d like to start off by saying:
This poem is not for me. It’s for you, no not you Black queen, Amiga Mia, no not you persona crusando frontera de genero sexual y normas de la sociead.
I’m talking you gring@,
White man, white women who dares step into our spaces.
Mira, sit down chaval@, listen
Because this ain’t about your emotions,
About how you feel so bad after that ethnic studies class, that Chican@ studies class, that Africana studies, and use it as an excuse to talk about us like you are one of us, as if those long lectures were certificates of brownness, queerness, blackness,
This is not about you, who you know, or what you know.
Black and brown bodies pack the prisons,
School to prison pipeline,
Funneling our bodies into system of mass incarceration,
La muerte del cuerpo nos sigue, Pero nuestra memoria vive.
Qué viva:
Trayvon Martin
Qué viva
Andy Lopez,
Qué viva
Assata Shakur,
Qué Vivan tod@ l@s detenidos atraves del systema migratario.
Qué viva
Mis herman@s trans, Zoraida Reyes of Santa Ana, Mya and Brittany of Baltimore.
Because we are so much more,
Somos agua, tierra, Vida qué respira
So when you make it about your feelings, I hope you reconsider.
We hope that you begin to see what solidarity looks like:
sit down and listen to us, read our stories, read their HERstories.
Posting on social media is not enough, that will only do so much.
This is not a competitive market where you can bluff.
Put your lives, your light skin privilege, whatever form of privilege You have, on that line between us and the cops, that is what solidarity looks like.

this talk of immigration & people indigenous to these continents...

reminds me of a while back when my brother posted something on FB about the same topic & some white girl he knows made a comment like, “are you Native American? I’m 13% Cherokee & this is what I think!” & I pulled a muscle rolling my eyes at that comment & was about to explain to her what it means to be Mexican/Xicano, but of course Caleb took care of it himself. If you know him, you know she was reaching for the aloe vera to cool that burn before she was half done reading his response.

Have I mentioned lately how awesome my brother is?

shoutout to Mexicans who take every opportunity to remind people that their family is "more Spanish than Mexican"

naw, it’s cool that you found a way to tell people that you’re really white w/o actually having to say that you hate the idea that people might think you’re brown.

Caleb just told me they discussed "chingon" in one of his classes & no-one wanted to translate what it means

which is cool, cuz I’m glad he’s got a class where they can (presumably)
talk about the generalities of this word & how it’s used, but at the same
time I don’t want there to be white people walking around thinking they can
use this word now because they learned it in a class.

this is not for you!


anonymous asked:

Ohh I didn't make the connection between Xican and Mexican. But I feel ta on the white passing thing. I'm Arabic and I'm one of the whitest in my family, it's kinda embarrassing


I’m here for you, love.