White passing and racism

flowermoonbrand submitted:

Okay so I will just give a little background information before I ask my question haha. I come from a half black, half white background, my father is white and my mother is Aboriginal, Wongai to be specific. My Mum and her family are still very close to our aboriginal family and to the culture and to our heritage, so am i and so are a couple of her sisters. My Nana also taught my mum and a couple of her closer sisters many words and phrases in Wongatha which then my mum then passed on to me and which we say regularly and naturally in our home and amount our family and in day-to-day life. I am also very passionate about indigenous/black issues. Because it is natural to say most of the words and phrases that I have been taught by my mum and my family, I say them quite a bit during the day around close friends at school, not to impress anyone or on purpose, it just comes natural and it’s not something I think about doing. At times when I say certain words that my friends understand and know what they mean they will often tell me to shut up or be quiet or ask ‘why do you say that so much?!’. With this, I was just wondering, would it be seen as racism because of what they’re doing? I do get hurt by what they say because I am very proud of my background and Indigenous people and my friends do know that I am aboriginal.

What they’re doing isn’t intentionally done to hurt me but I want to know if it is racism or not so I can explain to them this and tell them why and how it hurts with what they say.

Yes, that is racism. Intentions don’t matter when it comes to racism. For so long have we been denied the right to speak our native tongues and practice our cultures. So for you to be freely speaking your language everyday - that’s resistance. It’s resistance to a society and culture that still in many ways denies us the right to speak our languages and practice culture. Keep doing what you do, don’t comprise yourself or make yourself smaller for others. You’re a person with culture and language - no-one can take that away from you.

Maybe question them next time they do it? Maybe ask them; “so, I should just speak English?” and watch them try to get out of that one. If they keep going, explain that so-called Australia was never a culturally and linguistically homogenous land. It was and still is made up of many different Indigenous nations and has many Indigenous languages within each nation.

I’m so sorry that you’re having to go through this. I wish you all the best of luck in confronting your friends and addressing this issue. Xx

teethsoup asked:

Hey just FYI Mad Max did have several POC actors including Zoë Kravitz (half African-American and half Ashkenazi Jewish) , Megan Gale (half English half Maori), Sean Hape aka iOTA (half English half Maori) and others I can't remember unfortunately. I know it's still not a lot but there are like 5 speaking characters and that's most of them. (well iOTA plays the guitar)

I saw the movie. I’m full aware of this. I’m entirely sure that I said at one point “you can count the POC in this movie on one hand”, and you can. I don’t know what this message was for/what it was trying to accomplish. I never said it was a bad movie so I don’t know why you feel the need to defend its lack of diversity, but I really feel weird about this in general cuz the only person who was VISIBLY non white/not white passing was Zoe Kravitz. Like, do y’all think I’m just talking out of my ass without having seen the film or….. 

The motel was the only place open on the empty street, traffic lights blinking dull yellow, the road haunted by thick fog and heavy eyes. In the passenger seat was a boy with lead in his belly, crimson-caked blood staining a white shirt.

He was passed out cold- for now, at least. They had to get away, no choice but to find a motel that had seen worse shit than this go down in its time. Larry killed the engine, reached over and laid the back of his hand against Freddy’s sleep-warm cheek.

“Hey, kiddo.”

Real soft and quiet, pink glow of the vacancy sign falling over them where their skin was touching. Freddy stirred, sweat-soaked strands of hair falling in front of his eyes, hands finding his stomach at the moment of consciousness.

He stared at Larry, hands pressed against his wound, eyes dull and glazed over. Larry reached for an old water bottle he had found in the back seat, unscrewed the cap and tilted it to Freddy’s lips, wiped the water from the kid’s mouth once he’d had enough.

Freddy seemed to wake up more, then. He reached up and rubbed his tired blue eyes, hooked his fingers in Larry’s belt loop and brushed his thumb across the skin of his lower back.

“What is this place?”

Larry grabbed Freddy’s free hand, laced their fingers together and brought his hand to his lips, kissed his knuckles.

“We’re gonna get you patched up.”

The guy at the front desk didn’t make any comment about Freddy’s appearance, just accepted the $40 and handed them a room key. The room smelled like stale cigarettes and the TV was broken. Freddy stretched out across the bed, wincing as he tried to make himself comfortable.

“Don’t touch it any more, alright? We don’t wanna irritate it more.”

Larry pulled out a small bag with thread, needles, tweezers, and a bottle of whiskey he picked up on the way. It wasn’t the first time he had to dress a wound on the run, but this was different. This was his boy, laying on the bed looking like a blood-soaked fever dream, and it was his fault.

He sat down next to him on the bed and unbuttoned his shirt, unstuck the fabric from his sweat-damp chest. The blood was caked thick, dark brown on his stomach, to the point where the bleeding had almost stopped.

“Just relax, kid, okay? Just breathe. Squeeze my arm if you have to, I don’t mind. Just don’t bite me, alright?”

Freddy laughed and nodded, breath heavy and short.

His hands were shaking at his sides, eyes closed in anticipation of pain. Obviously the thread wouldn’t hold for long, but Larry needed something to work just for the night until they could get to a hospital without raising suspicion.

He handed Freddy the whiskey and propped his head up with a pillow. “You’re gonna wanna drink this first.”

It hurt Larry like hell to watch Freddy like this, needle threading through his flesh, stomach muscles contracting violently with pain, sheets under him bunched up in his fists.

“Almost done, baby, just two more.”

When he snipped the thread, he quickly grabbed the whiskey and poured it over the wound without warning. Freddy screamed in pain like Larry knew he would, but warning people made it so much worse.

“I’m sorry, kid, worst part. We’re done now.”

Larry put his shit back in the bag and made a beeline back to the bed. Freddy was crying, tears running wet down his flush cheeks.

LA nights were heavy and humid around this time of year, the kind of heat that you could feel in your lungs. He stripped his shirt off and stretched out on the bed next to Freddy, laid an arm across his bare chest.

“Hurts,” Freddy said against the hollow of Larry’s throat, head tucked under his chin.

Larry kissed the side of his neck, pushed his hair off his forehead and wiped his tears off his cheeks with the pad of his thumb.

“I know, baby.”

Outside, the neon lights were glowing hot, veins of the city starved of life. Freddy’s heart beat steady and slow under Larry’s wrist, California stars drowned out by the sins of the city.

“I love you.” Soft and quiet, whispered against Freddy’s ear. “Go to sleep. We’ll figure it out in the morning.”

“Don’t leave me,” Freddy breathed, half-asleep, kissed Larry’s collarbone. “Love you.” Sleep overtook them both.

Everything was cold.

The morning fell around him all at once, car engines and slamming doors. It was all blue. Cold air, cold dreams, cold skin.

It all felt wrong. He opened his eyes, let the air dry them and the light burn. Shook himself out of his dream and laid his palm over Freddy’s chest. And paused.

There was no pulse.

Larry’s chest heavy and thick with white-hot pain, heartstrings sliced clean apart, kissed his boy one last time.

His gun felt cold and heavy on his tongue before he pulled the trigger.

anonymous asked:

To the Native One : What do you think of Jaqueline Storyline in Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt ? To put it simply, she started off as the very stereotypical rich white woman characters, and it's revealed later in the show that she's a white-passing Native (with parents deeply enrolled in their tribe) but rejected her roots to have a successful life (big house, rich husband, all that jazz).

I’ve never watched it, so I don’t have too much of an opinion on it. I read up on some of the controversy a while ago, though. Most people I know find the show funny and truly enjoy it! 

The only issue I see with it, to be honest, is how she rejected her roots to become successful. Native kids don’t have to reject their roots to be successful and they need to see that. But! I know Kimmy is a total comedy show, so it’s whatever.

-The Native One

anonymous asked:

hey! im mexican 100% and the child of immigrants. but im white passing anyways ive been struggling with internalized racism especially when people ask me "what are you" and over time ive learned to tell them that Im white because when i say im mexican they say okay but what else. then they keep insisting that i must be part white. Im tired of erasing my culture and I feel as if Im disrespecting my family.

You can identify as white if that’s what you feel most comfortable doing. There are many white/white passing Latinxs (look at the media representing us and all you’ll see is white or white passing Latinxs). Having light skin doesn’t invalidate ones identity as a Latinx. Know that Mexican isn’t even a race. People assuming it is are erasing all those who don’t fit a stereotype (ex. Black mexicans / Asian mexicans). It’s up to you to ID however you see fit. Personally I don’t mind telling people I’m Mexican, even though I get questioned about it time and time again. I like schooling people and pointing out their ignorance when it comes to homogenizing Latinxs as a single entity. That’s just me though. 

This goes to all Latinxs who’s idenity is always questioned: Your identity as a Latinx is valid. Those who challenge it are ignorant about what it means to be Latinx. Latinx is not a race, so your physical appearance does not dicate if you can or cannot call yourself Latinx. If you have ancestry to Latin America and you feel comfortable ID-ing that way, reclaim you Latinx heritage. It’s up to you to ID however you feel fit.

- Ingrid

gelatinadeleche replied to your post: teethsoup asked:Hey just FYI Mad …

i just rewatched it tonight and counted three non white passing characters and zoe was the only one with a speaking role. one out of that entire huge cast.

rite lmao like…they really tried it lmao that really isn’t good enough considering how many people were in that movie. Like if they wanted to have that white of a cast they should’ve had a disclaimer like “in the future, Australia has wiped out all of it’s indigenous people and closed its borders to immigrants” which tbh would’ve been believable but like…don’t give me a post apocalyptic film with that few POC without a reason. I’m just going to pretend that it is a future where black people have either colonized space and are thriving OR we’re elite aristocrats living in luxury somewhere without all of the white people trying to blow shit up 

lmao im still mad at that white passing latinx saying the ENTIRE carribbean is latinx!!!

all those little ~vacation~ islands who have their own history of colonization with the british? Latinx!

I fucking love that she even had the thought that I wasnt processing everything so it was 100% fine to mock me! Nothing ableist abt mocking a afro latinx kid with 2 neurodevelopmental diseases for not processing things fast enough! Nope! 

love how i saw posts from MUTUALS vaguing me “Only latinx raised ppl should talk abt latinx issues” when I have been living with my belizean family all my life until i cut them off recently! /sarcasm

i will never fuck with the latinx community. Never!! I see no reason to and I feel no connection to any of you! I probably never will!

Chasing vague dreams of bong hits in the park with you. And even in that realm, I wonder what you think of me. 3 worlds and a universe apart, you sit crossed legged by my side. In the spring time of our adolescence, I continue the rotation. I was floating and grounded at the same time. Full with the world for a moment. The white clouds passing by, the cool green grass against my thighs.

anonymous asked:

yooooo just saw that picture of you with short hair and immediately thought of winona ryder or however you spell that fucking name but yeah you guys look alike

Yeah ugh so does every white passing female perceived person w messy short hair like don’t send me this

anonymous asked:

You're the epitome of white and skinny though lol

*white passing but okay thank you for this literally useless information. Anyway.