If You're Not White, You Must Be Black
Tuesday, October 9, 2007

Today, after reading Melissa McEwan's post about this incredibly racist remark made by a gov. official in charge of protecting minority voting rights . . .

"It's probably true that among those who don't [have Photo ID], it's primarily elderly persons. And that's a shame. Of course...our society is such that minorities don't become elderly. The way that white people do. They die first." - John Tanner, Chief of Civil Rights Section, Voting Unit, U.S. DoJ

. . . . I quietly mopped my brains off my monitor, and went hunting some stats -- as I was almost certain that not only was this remark racist . . . . . but factually incorrect.

I recollected that Hispanic and Asian populations actually had longer life expectancy than whites in the US (turns out I was right about that) -- but as I sought credible evidence to support my post , a funny thing happened -- I found that it was very, very (no, like VERY!) hard to find detailed life expectancy statistics that display information on all the racial minorities in our nation.

Nearly all the "Life Expectancy by Race" data available online at the Census Bureau and the CDC presented data only about "Whites" and "Blacks" (subdivided by gender in these two races.).

Much as it may shock Bill O'Reilly and John Tanner (our champion of civil rights at the DOJ), the minority races that comprise 31% of our population are not a monolithic group of African Americans who keel over early after screaming for their m-f-ing ice tea.

Our national racial profile is more like the chart at right, with Asians and Hispanics (who outlive white people by 3-6 years) comprising 16% of our population, and Native American women outliving white women by an average of 2 years.

And, of the minority populations that do not typically live as long as whites, (Black men and women, and Native American men), there are vast disparities in life-expectancy depending on where these people live, and their income levels (just google "Eight Americas" to see what I mean) -- cuz, you know, sometimes . . . . (I'm not stating anything definitive here -- just positing a theory) . . . . just sometimes, being kidnapped and forced into slavery, enduring nearly complete racial genocide, and then dealing with several centuries of ongoing crap and present-day institutionalized oppression and endless betrayal and broken promises can be like, kind of stressful, ya know? 'Jus sayin'.

Back to my post title, however. If Tanner's comment didn't clue you in to just how deeply racism is institutionalized in our country, I want to impress upon you the fact that this man (who is, supposedly, assuring the civil rights of minorities in our nation's elections) took a statistic about one race (an appalling statistic) and used it as a broad and sloppy brush -- to justify the further marginalization of anyone who is not white!!!!!!! (Here, let me add a few more outraged exclamation points to that,) !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

To me, when I plumb the underlying racist assumptions demonstrated in this kind of comment (can't you just hear the not-so-faint echoes of "whites are fundamentally stronger and healthier". . . "people of color don't really matter anyway"?), I honestly ask myself: "What year is it again?"

The 31% of our nation who, according to Tanner, "don't become elderly the way white people do" currently outnumber the dwindling number of people who still support the president.

So, if 29% of The People can keep the Homicider Decider in office, why can't 31% of The People (and their myriad allies) get rid of asshat, racist, government flunkies, "pundits", and elected officials?

(Oh, and while we're at it, how about addressing and amending the factors that decrease the life-span of Black and Native Americans?)

I'm ready to take on the task. Are you?

Posted byPortlyDyke at 11:05 AM 4 comments  

Labels: Mainstream Media, Privilege, Racism

Are You My Ally?
Saturday, August 18, 2007

In the past couple of weeks, I've noticed that, during my blog-reading adventures, I've felt a little tiny twinge everytime I read something like: "This is particularly hard, coming from one of our own", or "it's especially difficult to take this from someone on my own team".

I actually like the word "ally". I've used it as a relational category for people that I wouldn't probably want to get all buddy-buddy with, but with whom I do acknowledge a certain idealogical or principalic connection.

Recently, though, I've been noticing that recurring twinge, and as I've examined it, I've wondered if it may have to do with the combative/competitive/separative connotations of the word "ally" that are evoked in me by these statements ("one of our own"/"on my team" -- which implies that there is someone who is not "one of us", or that we are on a team, playing a game, which means that someone wins, and someone loses).

I notice that I don't have this twinge when I think of the less war-like definitions of "ally": an associate who provides cooperation or assistance.

In my life, I've found "allies" in odd places -- sometimes where I least expect it.

There was the long rambling discussion that I had on a train with a Mormon mother of 8 who told me that, although she was often conflicted about the subject of homosexuality from a spiritual basis, she strongly opposed any government action that oppressed gays or kept equal rights from them, because, as she said: "They could decide to do the same thing to Mormons".

There was the dinner-table conversation with my entire FOO (family of origin) where my fundamentalist brother-in-law and I found ourselves on the same side of an argument about home-schooling.

There have been people that I hated to say I agreed with when they made a cogent point, but I believe that intellectual and personal integrity requires that I acknowledge this when it happens.

I've known burly he-men who were more actively "feminist" than I was, and straight people who were way less willing than I to let a homophobic comment slide.

Conversely, I've experienced situations where I discovered that people who I thought should be my "natural allies" were not. I've heard grossly anti-feminist sentiment from radical lesbians, been on the receiving end of inflammatory and violent actions from self-identified peace activists, and been given lectures rife with capitalist dogma by avowed socialists.

So, who is my "ally"?

In my 30s and into my mid-40s, I interacted almost exclusively with lesbians (outside of my work). This was my culture, my community, and my environment.

For the last 10 years, my life has been very different, and my culture, community, and environment are far more diverse. Of those who I consider as being within my closest and most intimate circle, these individuals now span a wide range of orientations, ages, classes, spiritual approaches, nationalities, and races.

I consider these people my "friends", but not all of them are my "allies" in certain areas. One of my close friends spouts fat-phobic remarks (about herself usually, but never about me) on a regular basis. One of my close friends believes that the work I do for a living is blasphemy when regarded from his spiritual perspective. I love these people, and spend time with them whenever I can. So, I assume that in my mind, "ally-ship" is not a requirement for "friendship". Which confuses me sometimes.

I wonder if this separation between my concepts of "ally" and "friend" represents some idealogical schism in me. Do I hold my "political/activist" self as a separate being from my personal/social self? Is that necessary? Is it healthy? Does it support integrity in me?

I began this post with a question, and thought I might actually be able to answer it -- but now I seem to have simply manifested a bouquet of additional questions. (I hate it when that happens.)

I'd simply return to the definition of ally that I like: "an associate who provides cooperation or assistance" -- but this, too, seems like a garden of questions -- What is "cooperation"? "Assistance" with what?

I'm now realizing that I ask myself these questions every time I interact with someone who I think might be a potential ally. Someone posts about a subject that I feel passionate about, and I search their writing for evidence that they are "on my side" , or that I agree with them, or that their voice might be adequate to speak what I might have said. If there are little nuances to their words that create an eddy of disturbance in me, I notice that I calculate whether it's worth it to point this out, or whether it's more important to just support my ally for the bulk and intent of their piece (I'm not saying this is a good thing, just that I notice that I do it).

I think, though, that the "twinges" I've been feeling about this whole ally thing really have to do with this: I am aware, lately, of feeling less and less like someone who is engaged in a rational discussion in my nation, and more and more like someone who is in an embattled position. I notice that I don't even bother to comment at right-wing sites at this point. I bear the assumption that my very handle (PortlyDyke) will result in automatic dismissal, if not downright harassment.

I'm disturbed by the growing separation that I perceive in the USA, the "Us" and "Them" constructs that I find creeping into my own language. I'm disturbed by the fact that I watched the Republican debates only to see how outrageous the candidates might be, rather than in any remote belief that one of them might say something substantive, and the fact that I watched the Logo debates to see if any of the Dems were about to grow a spinal column on gay rights -- one of "my" issues.

I'm disturbed by how many times I've read (or typed) the words *running for cover* in comments and forums that I think of as being populated mostly with "allies".

So, I think it's time I got clear on what (or who) constitutes an "ally" for me.

Here's what I've got so far:

1. I tend to feel "allied" with people who can imagine the circumstance or situation of others, and make some attempt to take that into account as they communicate.
   
2. I tend to feel "allied" with people who passionately embrace and communicate about their own personal experience while acknowledging that the experience of others might be equally valid. (Shorter PortlyDyke for 1 & 2: I value the ability to engage in compassionate accountability.)
3. I tend to feel "allied" with people who take responsibility for their words and actions.

Some lessons I have learned about "Allies" in my short time on Earth (51 years is NOT a long time, I have discovered -- I feel like I'm just getting started).

1. Just because someone decides to "let you be" for the moment doesn't necessarily mean they are an ally. Many gay bars existed prior to Stonewall -- the politicians, policemen, and others who ignored them (until they didn't ignore them) were not gay rights allies. When you become inconvenient to them, a person/organization/structure that is not an ally will have no problem throwing you under a bus.
   
2. Just because someone decides to side with you for the moment doesn't necessarily mean they are an ally. Bill Clinton made masterful use of his "pro-gay rights" stance -- until his campaign was over. Yes, he did a lot of nice things like appoint gay people to his cabinet, and I think that probably did assist the gay rights movement. But I still don't trust him as far as I can throw him.
   

That's all I know so far. I'm going to be thinking (and reading, and watching) this whole sticky issue of "allies" from now on. Especially when I feel that twinge.

So, I suppose the real question that I might pose to others is:

Do you want to be my ally?

Posted byPortlyDyke at 12:25 AM 4 comments  

Labels: Allies, Homophobia, Progressives, Racism, Sexism

Privilege -- Your Own Silent Super-Hero
Wednesday, August 1, 2007

Privilege.

If you're reading this on the internet, chances are you have it, in some respect.

Your privilege may be based on your (perceived) skin color, sexual orientation, class-status, gender, wealth, nationality, or a myriad of other factors. Your privilege may be based on your actual race, creed, or color -- or on your gender, cultural placement, or the happy "accident" of your country of birth.

The problem is that, until you actually interact with people who don't share your privilege-basis, any privileged status you may hold may be completely invisible to you.

Think of it as your own stealthy, invisible super-hero. By virtue of something you don't even notice, you may possess powers that other humans lust after, work for, attempt to purchase, or cannot even imagine.

Today I was reading a post at Shakespeare's Sister. Melissa McEwan closed the post with the line: "That's the difference between being a man and a woman. That's privilege."

I was amazed to find, in some of the comments to the post, that commenters that I usually find astute, aware, and intelligent actually seemed surprised by the findings cited in the study that spurred the post (yes, yes -- the post was about women and sexual harassment/assault -- one of "my" issues -- but lest you think I'm just being all whack-a-doodle feminista here, please try to stay focused -- my subject is "Privilege"). I was very disheartened that some of them seemed shocked to find that they possessed privilege that other people did not share.

I possess privilege. I'm white. I live in the USA. I am a university graduate.

And -- it took me a long time to understand that my foot-steps were constantly dogged by my unacknowledged privilege.

I was down-trodden, dontcha know! -- I was, after all, a lesbian, a woman, raised working-class -- there was always someone "above and beyond" me who was keeping me down. It was easy to focus on "Them" -- those privileged, lucky bastards/bitches -- rather than take a look at the ways in which I, simply by the seeming serendipity of my skin color or nationality, might also be unconsciously utilizing my privilege, or filtering experience through it -- and, consequently, playing deaf, dumb, and blind to the fact that my privilege exists, and that I rely on it every day to pave a smoother way for me in life.

There it is (my privilege) in that last sentence -- see? -- I can say "deaf, dumb, and blind" and pretend that this is just "an accepted phrase", and that everyone, including people who are actually deaf/hard-of-hearing, or dumb/speech-impeded, or blind/sight-impaired will "get" what I'm saying, and that I mean no offense. In truth, I mean no offense -- but this does not erase my privilege as a person who still possesses "normal" hearing in both ears, "normal" speech abilities, and "normal" sight.

So it is that one of my staunchest male allies might not have any idea that I deal with misogyny every day, --that, portly and dyke-ly as I may be at this point (which ostensibly would make me "unattractive" and "sexually undesirable"), I still board a bus with a sense of being "prepared" for possible harassment in a way that my ally does not.

So it is that I, a confirmed liberal, civil-rights advocate, and activist, might not have any real idea of what my liberal/advocate/activist sister or brother (whose skin color doesn't qualify them as "white") face as they do something as mundane as shopping in the grocery store of a small, mostly-white rural town (or a suburban "Whole Foods", for that matter).

This post was not just stimulated by a single read-of-the-day for me. It was augmented by reports that there is now a "dress-code" for White House touring groups, which prohibits, amongst other things, dreaded "sneakers", tank-tops, and mini-skirts (which we all know are a danger to our nation, right?), that anti-abortion activist haven't actually thought about what would happen to the women who have abortions if abortion were illegal, and that a huge number of politicians seem to think that they do not have to maintain any ethical standards, so we need to spend time and money legislating on that.

All of these reports, to me, reek of privilege, privilege, and more privilege. I'm going to stay with these "little" stories -- at this point, I don't even want to begin to touch on the effects of privilege on the incredibly dissociative and destructive wars that our privileged nation is carrying out or facilitating around the world.

I'll take what I think is the most mundane example: The White House Dress Code.

I honestly think that many people in my country -- the good old USofA -- land of opportunity -- could easily dismiss the dress code story as something insignificant. I think that many would simply say: "Well, big deal -- so you can't wear jeans to the White House? So, just dress up! Everyone has a pair of dress shoes and a pair of pants that aren't jeans."

Well, actually -- No.

There are real people in this country who own one pair of shoes. Many of them are poor children of poor working parents. When your choice at the thrift-store is between tough sneakers or jeans that are going to be daily wear until your kids outgrow them or dress shoes and pants that they're going to wear just in case they get invited to the White House, what do you think you would choose?

Yet being faced with this kind of choice is something that many, many, many people in our culture can't even imagine.

That's privilege.

It's the "can't even imagine" part that gives the hushed hero of privilege so much energy.

I can't imagine the oppression that I don't face. I can only ask people who endure that oppression about their experiences, and listen to their answers. Which means that I have to get up close with them, and open my fucking ears, rather than argue with them, or compare their situation with mine, or the situation of someone I know, or expound on some thesis or theory that makes me feel better as a person of privilege.

It's not always been easy for me -- because I wasn't able to see that damnable transparent crusader until someone pointed it out to me, and even then, I kicked and screamed and flailed and thrashed -- because I WAS AN ALLY, DAMMIT!

A long time ago, I asked a black friend what she thought was the best way for me to deal with my inculturated racism. She said: "This isn't just about racism. It's about everything-ism -- invite people who are different from you into your life -- not just invite them to dinner, or a party -- have them in your life, and be in their lives. If you want to deal with your racism, hon, there's one real quick way to do that -- hang around in real time with people of color often enough that you get called "n-lover" at least three times in public. You're going to see that your white privilege can be stripped from you mighty quick if you really involve yourself with people who are not white."

She then laughed and said: "When I started hanging out with you long enough that someone accused me of being a dyke, I knew I was starting to work some shit out."

IMO, there's only one way to fire your silent super-hero -- move into places and spaces where he shows up for you -- so that you can turn to that slippery mother-fucker, and say: "Look -- I realize you've protected me, and helped me down the line sometimes, but I really don't want your help anymore."

Of course, you can't fire someone you can't see. So start looking.

Posted byPortlyDyke at 1:00 AM 6 comments  

Labels: Homophobia, Privilege, Progressives, Racism, Sexism

TTDT -- Be Prepared to Speak Your Truth
Wednesday, July 18, 2007

I think we've all had the experience. Someone -- perhaps someone we know, love, or expect something different from -- says something, right in front of us, that we find so offensive, ignorant, discriminatory, and/or demeaning-- that we are absolutely flabbergasted.

Example: My mother (the woman who used to be all liberal and shit -- who taught me that racism was a really bad thing) says to me, during a phone call, of the Somalian refugees who are now living in her small town: "Well, they all look alike you know!"

Example: My co-workers, who work every day with my white boss (who happens to be married to a black man), and seem to love and respect her, wait until she, and every person of color, is out of the room before they exclaim over the picture of her new daughter: "Oh, thank goodness -- she's so light!"

These are only two of many (personally-experienced) examples -- examples of speech that I recognized, in the moment, as absolutely, positively, unvarnished racism-in-action.

When I heard these statements, I didn't wonder in my head (as I often do, when I receive or overhear a fat-phobic or homophobic comment, however overt) -- "Am I just being sensitive because this is 'my' issue?" I knew immediately that these comments were offensive, ignorant, discriminatory and demeaning.

Yet, in both of the examples above, I was utterly flummoxed at the moment. I did not make an immediate response. I did not speak my truth in the moment, and I lived with regret about that afterward, stewing for days and days about what I should have done in the moment, regardless of what action I took later.

In the first example with my mom, at that moment, I remember that I stammered -- my dad, lingering on the extension phone, jumped in for a quick recovery, changed the subject, and ended the phone call within the next 60 seconds.

In the second example with my co-workers, my jaw actually dropped -- I simply stared, speechless, at them over the picture of this beautiful child, and before I could think of what to say, they had already slunk away to their respective work-stations, and left me standing alone in the break-room.

In both of these encounters, and in many others -- like "Joe" (Vs. the Volcano), as he quits his "job" -- I found my mind whirling around this phrase:

"I should say something."

In truth, however, at each of these moments, I had no idea what to say. While I tried to catch my breath, my brain was, no doubt, busy calculating the risks of possible confrontation, the likelihood of effecting change in the situation, and the emotional and energetic cost of engaging with someone who could say "something like that" while I was a) totally pissed off/triggered, b) uncertain whether I ever wanted to talk to them again, and c) totally pissed off/triggered.

Would I/Should I? --

1. Launch into an educational diatribe about the heinous results of racism, whether intentional and practiced, or unconscious and entertained?
2. Simply say, in measured tones: "I can't believe you just said that," and stalk away, clothed in my outrage, hoping that they would understand what had offended me?
3. Raise my voice to match the intensity of my emotional response and emphatically state: "That is a racist comment, and I won't stand for it!" and hope that someone might actually have the guts to meet me in the crucible where my personal activation was swirling with a global human issue?
4. Shout with all my might: "You fucking hypocritical turd(s)!", and refuse to deal with them until they apologized?

I've actually done all of those things, in other situations. I haven't found them to be tremendously successful in effecting the change I want to make in the world.

Here are two of the most effective consciousness-changing actions I've ever taken (the first of which I wouldn't have even thought about if I hadn't answered a QOD at Shakesville the other night):

Action #1: Dark theater, 1995. Showing of "Higher Learning" in a cinema located in a well-known liberal west coast city. Audience of 200 or more, mostly urban, well-educated folk.

The movie is all about oppression, and the audience seems to be following along, getting the gist of it all -- until, HORRORS! -- there's a (minuscule -- like maybe three seconds, tops) lesbian kissing scene-- at which groans, retching noises, and choruses of "oh gross!" break out in the theater. I am stunned for a moment.
I can't believe what I'm hearing.

Then, somehow, without thinking, I say, calmly, in a voice just loud enough to be heard throughout the theater: "I'm a lesbian." The place goes dead fucking silent.

The woman next to me fidgets throughout the rest of the movie, but the woman who is in a seat two rows in front of me sits through the credits, as I do, and when the theater is all but empty, and I am leaving, she touches my arm, and asks: "Was it you who said that?" -- "Yes," I answer (after looking around to see who might be waiting to beat the crap out of me).

"Thank you for saying that," she says.

Action #2: I am leaving my brother's second wedding with my mom and dad. They are taking me to the airport. It's a long drive.

On the way, parental units are ripping my new sister-in-law a new asshole. I have no idea why, really.

I suspect they're really mad at my brother, for ruining the "no-divorce" streak that our branch of the family had maintained for a couple of generations, but they're ripping on the new wife, not my brother. I first engage in an educational manner, trying to appeal to "reason" -- but they're having none of it.

Finally, I said: "You know, when I hear you talk like this, I wonder what you say about me, when I'm not here."

Then there is a long, uncomfortable silence, which does not seem to portend any great shift of consciousness.

A year later, my dad takes me aside, and tells me that he remembered what I said, and has thought (and acted) differently about gossiping or complaining about people in the family, ever since.

The commonality in these two actions, I believe, was my willingness to be vulnerable in the moment.

I usually find it much easier to speak up and out on behalf of others -- to protest and confront racism, trans-phobia, hetero-phobia, religious intolerance for religions that are not my own, etc., etc. -- than it is for me to directly confront fat-phobia, homo-phobia, or misogyny, or any of the "isms" that are focused at me directly.

I think this has to do with the fact that I have a suspicion/understanding that it is actually possible for me to see things and hear things through a very subjective filter that may, or may not, provide me with an accurate view of what has just happened. (Shorter Portly Dyke: I don't trust myself.)

I spent several decades of my life perpetually pissed off -- not without reason, mind you -- but, in retrospect, I believe that there was a period during I was actually addicted to my anger -- I became more loyal to my rage than to my reason, and more attached to my identity as an oppressed person/victim than to my desire or motivation to effect change.

So, now, I keep a sharp eye on my RighteousWrath-O-Meter, especially when responding to issues that strike close to the bone for me.

I don't have judgment about feeling mad -- I think that the energy of this emotion can be (and wants to be) transformed into action very effectively. I believe that feeling "pissed off" is telling me something (but probably nothing that feeling "slightly irritated" wasn't telling me, long before I registered being pissed off).

However, I haven't found pedantic lectures, icey walk-outs, or incendiary spews to be necessarily effective.

The one thing that I have actually found to be effective is: My truth. How I feel in the moment.

I wish now that, when my mom had said that, I had responded immediately with: "Mom. I feel sad and mad when I hear you saying that. It doesn't seem to fit for me with what I've heard you say about judging people by their skin color." (Because that's what I thought when I heard it.)

I wish now, that, when my co-workers said what they did, I had responded immediately with: "I feel very bad, and very sad right now. I have the sense that I've just been included in a 'whites only' conversation, and I don't want to be a part of that. I feel scared to even say this, because I think that if I say it, you'll start treating me like you just treated our boss -- waiting for me to leave the room to say what you really think."

This post was inspired by two things:

1. Thorn's posts at Shapely Prose. Reading her story, with all the "messy" vulnerable feelings included, brought me closer to her experience, and helped me to commit again to speaking up in the moment when I witness or experience oppression.
2. An experience that I had recently, where the power of telling a personal story of my own, and including the emotional content, without trying to look all "cool", shifted a conversation/conflict dramatically.
   

So here's the TTDT:

Be prepared to speak your truth -- not "the" truth, and not some "prepared statement". Your truth, in the moment.

Be smart, witty, whatever you will -- but also -- Remember to tell people how you feel -- describe your emotions and experience -- not just the feeling of being mad/angry/rage-full, but also the sadness, the feeling of being scared to speak up, the fear of being "thrown out" or discounted, or simply the dissonant twang that arises when something has been said and you haven't yet figured out, intellectually, what exactly is bugging you about it.

You may be thinking: "Well, they don't care how I feel -- if they did, they wouldn't say what they said!"

Just try it. Try a bit of vulnerability. Sure, they may go for your throat. But hell, if they're as bad as you are projecting them to be, they're going for your throat anyway.

I'm going to be working with this through the next week.

Posted byPortlyDyke at 10:35 PM 5 comments  

Labels: angst-Loss, Fat, Homophobia, Politics, Progressives, Racism, Truth

My First Real Rant
Saturday, July 7, 2007

Today, while reading comments in a thread about Peggy Noonan's helpfulness to little brown people, I stumbled upon this little gem:

"I am a lifelong Democrat who is sick and tired of people trying to make
me feel that I OWE illegals something because their ILLEGAl presence should make me feel SOOOOOOOOOO fortunate that I am an American.

YOU want illegals here, YOU pay for them. Sponsor a family, smartass, and see where you end up. I no longer give to food banks, churches, fund drives that help illegals. I now spend my money on my relatives, especiallly the young families, by buying them groceries. I think God will smile on my 10% tithe going to my family.

If Americans wise up, we can make it VERY hard for illegals to drain our medical, social, and moral resources."

Wow. Just . . . wow.

I responded with a comment, but the comment box was simply too short for me to speak my piece. So here's everything I wanted to say:

Dear Jan -- Are you native american? If not, where did your family come from, and when?

My great-great-grandfather immigrated from Sweden in the 1800s, and when he got here, he was helped by a number of government, church, and social programs -- not the least of which was the Homestead Act of 1862, without which, he would never have been able to own property upon which to farm.

He didn't speak English when he arrived. He barely spoke English when he died. Also true of my great-grandfather, but he was born here, so no prob, eh?

US Naturalization had no English requirement until 1906, and the length of residency required was 5 years -- for everyone. No one had to get a "green card" to establish this residency in the US at the time he arrived.

Language barriers are the primary reason given, by people who otherwise qualify for citizenship, when asked why they don't apply. (There are exceptions to this requirement for those over 50, or who are deaf or other-wise disabled).

I'm guessing you were born here. In which case, you didn't have to file (and pay) for a green card, wade through piles of forms and waiting periods, or actually take an oath to "uphold the Constitution" (which immigrants are required to do), in order to enjoy the rights of US citizenship.

Cost for a green card triples at the end of this month, to $930.00 USD -- cost for citizenship application nearly doubles -- to $595.00 USD on July 30, 2007.

So, if you've ever gotten all weepy at the statue of liberty, while reading: "Give me your tired, your poor . . . " and thought of your own ancestors, you might want to re-think your definition of "illegals".

When we make legal citizenship so expensive, so arbitrary, and so difficult for those who want to come to this county, it's no small wonder that there are so many "illegals" (as you call them).

Cost of filing for citizenship (please note: this doesn't assure you of citizenship) -- $1,525.00 as of July 30, 2007, once you add up the required green card and citizenship applications. Plus the cost of finger-printing, etc.. -- Oh, and you get to pay $19.95 just to download the application online. And the study guide for the Citizenship test is $59.95. (Unless you're really persistent, and look beyond the initial Google result -- past the commercial venture that is making money off this, and can wade through all the links to find the "free" form at the actual government site.) But hey, you can get them both together for just $79.95!

Average time to process a naturalization request -- 2 years (after you have fulfilled the 5 year residency requirement -- just 3 year residency requirement if you've married a US citizen ! What a deal!). Oh . . . unless you're unlucky and have the wrong name, in which case, it might be 5 years after you apply for naturalization.

So, I fear that I'm going to "make you" even more sick and tired, Jan, by suggesting that you are, indeed, very fortunate to have been born here. I don't think that you "owe" anyone anything (unless you agreed to incur the debt). I do think that, if your ancestors benefited from an open immigration process, and a concept of equality for all in that process, and if you, and your family, have benefited from these processes, that your expressed attitudes are rather hypocritical.

You have been automatically endowed, by virtue of the location of your birth, and the nationality of your parents, rights that other people have died to defend, and died in the hope of obtaining. You didn't have to pay money, learn another language, take a test, be sequestered from traveling to visit your loved ones, or take an oath to defend the Constitution. You simply had to be born.

I despise the attitude "Well, I've got mine -- everyone else can fuck off!" I despise it in corporations, political figures, social groups, and individuals.

I consider it, dare I say -- Un-American.

And now, in interest of something I've been thinking about, I'm going to take an action on everything that I bitch about, and send a letter to the INS about high fees and inefficient processes.

Posted byPortlyDyke at 3:02 PM 8 comments  

Labels: Immigration, Politics, Privilege, Racism, Xenophobia