A final discovery for the day

Youtube tells me that Lizzie McGuire is A Telugu Classic Devotional. Proof:

Yes, we know. Joel Stein is, A Perhaps Unintentionally Racist Fuck, oh, I mean Unfunny.

I intended to start today with a steaming hot cup of coffee, and some homework.

Because that is really what I need to be doing. Instead, I gave in to the temptation to follow links from (yesterday's) tweets to Joel Stein's fantastically un-funny piece on Edison, NJ.

See Sepia Mutiny's, An Unfunny Joel Stein Walks Into Some Cow Dung

I have very little to add that Anna or others haven't said.

Stein's piece is so borderline, truly, that it veers towards racist than funny. And, no I'm not American, but fuck, it is offensive. Only partly, I think for one of the explanations offered (by an SM comment) - it's not "brown on brown" humour.

I know what it is like to visit "home" and find that it has changed. But, COME ON! Surely, you can write better than this? Surely?

The parting thoughts from SM's post stood out.

"I’ll let Maitri fire off some parting shots for me, because she’s a hot geologist with a way with words and her ire isn’t just aimed at Stein— she’s gunning for some of you. Watch out now:

Yet, still, hitherto, even at this point, I can dismiss the whole article as noise. What really cooks me here is not Stein’s provincialism or even how easy it still is to use Indians as the butt of jokes. It’s the Indian-Americans, the ones who keep their heads down, “adjust” and don’t make waves, who will tell us not to be so sensitive and to shrug it off. “Let them say what they want. We should not internalize these things and let them bother us. Grow a sense of humor.” Because of their being doormats, it is easy for the Steins of the world to give ink to the Wholly Unnecessary. They make it so easy to do so. No more. I’m an American. The residents of Edison have been Americans for longer than Stein’s had a column. They don’t need this. Fuck you if you CAN take a “joke.”

Before we proceed, again, I'm very much the foreigner living in Amreeka.

I'm not an American-born citizen like Ana, that wrote the post. And as a standard disclaimer, I (mostly) like my time and life here. Heck, I've made some American friends, even. The blemishes in this general comfort (aye, comfort) and happiness are these (where I, dot-head, signal to the article and another older blog post and a couple of other undocumented incidents).

But, I digress. Despite weighing heavier on the Indian (in the hyphenated identity), I have a headache every time someone comes up with the "keep you head down" logic. Why should I? Why should anyone have to? If something is offensive, or hurtful, or downright moronic, I should have the right to call on it. How come only my unhyphenated-American (wtf!) students have a right to a sense of entitlement? (In this case, simply to protest.)

A friend on my FB list posted this link and nearly all the comments were to the tune of "What's the big fuss?"

It is a big fuss. There is a difference between me calling myself a dothead and a racist asshole calling me a raghead. If you can't see the difference, well, screw you. (Oh wait, what? That wasn't funny? Damn.)

Another thought before I leave:

From the SM Post:

"It’s true; his Facebook page was updated with a status message which…wasn’t helpful. See for yourself:

Didn’t meant to insult Indians with my column this week. Also stupidly assumed their emails would follow that Gandhi non-violence thing.

Really? How about Bhagat Singh then? Or the Babri riots? or the Bombay riots? or the constant ongoing North-East trouble? Or the constant on-going communal crap?

Lament, not that your schools can't teach a better insult than dot-head. Lament that Gandhi is the only contemporary (ahem!) figure that you can even name.

I pirouette between anger, frustration and an eerie calm every time this happens.

"This" being that coldness and rudeness that borders on racism.

I'm brown.

I teach. I learn. I live.

I earn. I pay for my coffee.

I also wear horse blinders and brush off these borderline cases of racist behaviour from the white man, because every good Indian - heck, every good foreigner, knows that she does not need the extra baggage.

And every sensible foreigner knows that not all white people are like that.

In a recent discussion, a friend and I concluded that borderline racial slurs and sexual advances are probably the hardest things to fight off in this day and age, because they are so hard to prove. How, for instance, could one prove a "bad vibe" from the guy I bought my coffee from this morning, without being accused of paranoia or over-sensitivity? How can one prove that the "accidental" brush of that stranger on the bus was anything but?

Even as I write this, I can hear my mother say, poni le - anni alaga seriousga teesukuntay pani jaragadu. And so I let it go. Because, as mom says, if one starts to seriously dwell on these things, we're not going to get any work done.

And every brown-skinned girl in a white bread world wants to get their work done and get out of it, right?

Emosanal Atyachar

I like your honesty
There's so much to thank for, there
I wouldn't exchange it, for the world, yeah the world
But it breaks my heart
And I fear
that my little "quirks"
are not so charming to you anymore
and may never be
for as long as we live