Racy Stuff!

“Negra”.  That’s what my residence card tells me.  I am a negra with pardo colored eyes.  I believe pardo is darker than black or maybe a dark brown—I’m not too sure.  I understand that this word (pardo) is used in Brazil as well for constructing its uber-complicated racial hierarchy.  All of the cardnets (residence cards) of my Pitt in Cuba buddies say “blanco” for skin color.  And then there is me, the proverbial black sheep.   If you came up to me and asked: “Hey Loretta, how’s it like to be black?”I would respond with: “I dunno, I guess it’s pretty much the same as being [insert your race here].  I mean, it isn’t all that great.  You know there are a shit ton of statistics that say since I’m a 21 year black woman, I should have had my third child by now, high on crack, and selling my body  in a prostitution ring.  

My resident cardnet.  I have another, not laminated, dinky one that is my student cardnet.  This is proof that I am in this country as a resident and not a tourist therefore; alloying me to use the Cuban peso.  Mind you, 1 CUC (converted currency for tourists)~ $1 USD.  But 1 CUC=$1 USD~25 Cuban pesos. If you don't understand  mathematical symbols, this more or less means that buying things become a whole lot cheaper and even though I'm not rolling in dough in the US, I can live pretty well here considering that supposedly, the average Cuban salary is 25 CUC a month.    

Also, when I look at popular magazines, watch t.v shows or movies, listen to music, and engage in other pop culture activities, my body—the black female body—is objectified, made exotic, or made invisible.  Sure there’s Beyoncé but have you noticed that she is almost always wearing a blond weave and looks a lot like Shakira?  Actually, what if there was some mad scientist who created a Beyoncé/Shakira Frankenstein’s monster called Beyonkira or Shakoncé.  Dude, that guy/girl would make a crap ton of money because all the guys would want to sleep with it and all the girls would want to be that Frankenstein’s monster.

Anyways, back to blackness.  So yeah, there are some upsides about being black and having a vagina.  For instance, it is assumed that I can dance—mind you I can’t really. (Seriously, in my salsa class I was one of the few people who couldn’t find/hear the rhythm.) My ass is also supposed to be much bouncier than average.  I mean, common I know you watch those rap videos and think to yourself, “Wow, those black girls can really shake it.” Again fail.  Sorry to let you, my mother, society, the world, and Queen Bey down but there isn’t much jelly in this booty (*sigh*).  Another great thing about being a black woman is that I have so much freakin attitude.  Seriously, I find this to be the most annoying stereotype.  Have you guys seen that super annoying Progressive car insurance commercial with Flo talking to that petulant black woman? NOT FUNNY.  Really stupid and annoying, actually.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xQKJhI-z_xY 

But ok, so comparing the pros and cons of black womanness it seems that it isn’t so great being not only black but also a woman.  “So why not change this?” you may ask.  You know, the American way.  If you don’t like something, divorce it, sue it, or surgically remove it.  Hmmm…I could actually do a counter Michal Jackson and become a white man instead of a white woman since white woman have some shitty issues to deal with as a result of their vaginas.  But I’d rather go the harder route and try to change society.  Also, I’m not a big fan of pain or all the terrible health problems that comes with bleaching one’s skin. 

“So, Loretta…how are you, a pretty laidback, mostly reserved, booknerdish young black woman going to change centuries of institutionalized repression and negative perceptions about yourself as a result of your arbitrary assigned birth placement into a female black body?” you ask.  Well, that’s easy!  Imma start with myself.  Yup.  In order to convince society that I am more than my body, I can actually read, and no, I will not have sex with you, I need to validate myself and embrace this black female body.  Although there is no bounce in my booty and I’m still listening for that rhythm, it’s the only body I have.

  After cutting my permed hair and going natural, I gained a crap-ton of self confidence.  Actually you guys, I LOVE my hair.  It was a major insecurity point for me way back in the day during high school and before.  I once felt so humiliated and conflicted after my mom said she was too busy to perm my hair after I got my braids taken out that I didn’t want to go to school because I feared that people would laugh at me.  Serious how fucked up is that?!?  What is this world?  Uggggghhha rant, rant, rant, rant, uggggahhh, rant, rant, rant!! :’(  Thank god for Taking Back Sunday because that was my go to rant band back in the day.  But I’m ok now! :D Sometimes, I run my hands through my bouncy, coil hair and smile.  It’s so soft and fluffy and fun to play with! Goal in life: Get Kelly Moriera’s hair.  Look how gorgeous it is!!!   

 

   Kelly Moriera= my favorite model but actually who has favorite models or even knows most models names?  The only reason I know her's is that I wanted more info about her hair....

But ok.  Back to race, racism, and Cuba.  Of all the things I wasn’t expecting in this country (so many carb filled foods, not that much fruit, creepy guys calling me “Linda”  (pretty) all the timeetc..) racism was somewhere way down the list.  One of the things I knew fo sho about this country was that there was a whole lot of black people living here.  But judging by the movies in my Cuban Film class and other pop cultural things, one would think that the only people who live here are white or super light skinned black people.  SURPRISE: The blacks come in all kinds of colors and shapes in this country.  And a lot of times—until I open my mouth, try to dance, or get lost—people mistake me for Cuban.  “De dondé eres? (Where are you from?)” random people ask me all the damn time.  I should reply “La papaya de tú mama, coño”(“Your mom’s vagina,  fucker.” ) but usually, I bounce back between the U.S, Ghana and Canada(for when I feel like making friends—who hates Canada?).  I’ve also gotten away with Egypt (NEED to go there).  Sometimes, people guess and throw around random countries with a lot of black people.  I’ve gotten: Nigeria (a country that is much larger but less significant compared to Ghana—wink, wink Nigerian friend), Haiti, France (WTF?), South Africa, Jamaica, and Angola.  Always, I find it so fascinating to notice people’s reactions.  Sometimes during the same day, I bounce back between my two identities (Ghanaian-American: born in Ghana but raised with the all American spirit of I do what I want when I want) and the reactions are so strikingly different.  But I’ll go into greater detail about this later! ;D

 http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ghana

Already I’ve experienced a bunch of awkward/funny/ disturbing/ angering moments that cause my racism senses to tingle.  The moment that stood out most to me happened just yesterday when I visited a friend’s house in Centro Habana.  After spending like half an hour wandering the winding streets of Centro Habana and observing the little kids playing baseball with their make shift bats and balls, I was able to find my friend’s apartment after asking not one but two random strangers to borrow their phones.  One person kindly let me enter her home, sit on her couch, dial my friend and after speaking with her, lead me to my friend’s apartment. 

Anyways, after making it to the apartment I sat myself down and from her little t.v, watched a cheesy music video of this really metrosexual but super buff man serenading a woman.  In about half an hour, three other women—church friends of the friend I was visiting—popped in.  Speaking of church, I will definitely write on religion one of these days.  To celebrate one of their birthdays, my friend made lunch.  As we huddled around the dining room table and the living room couch eating and conversing, a little boy no older than 8 sprinted in.  He went around greeting all the women, noticeably skipping me.  I assumed he was shy or whatever since sometimes kids can be like that around strangers.  Nope.  This little coño was a racist!  When asked why he didn’t give me the greeting kiss, he responded: “Besitos solo por las blancas.” (Kisses only for the white women.) Awkward silence.  Followed by uncomfortable laughter.  The adults jokingly pleaded with him and my friend (who is a light skinned older black woman but here, she is considered mulata) told the child that since she was black, he shouldn’t kiss her either.

 In the end, the adults cajoled the brat to give me a kiss and to apologize.  When I replied, “No quiero tú besito,” (I don’t want your kiss) after he came up to me, I could notice the discomfort in the eyes of the 6 adults in the room.  He looked at me, gave me a bit of a sad face and of course, I caved and let him plant a butterfly kiss on my cheek.  There we have it, racist incident number one.  And of course, this isn’t anything compared to what my dad experienced living in Germany for example or the experience of blacks in South Africa or the United States during the height of their respective civil rights movements. My encounter was just one example of the unnecessary societal constructed racial attitudes that come with being a person of color.  Seriously people, the year is 2013.  A black man is in charge of the most powerful country in the world.  Beyoncé is our over lord.  Opera owns each and every one of us.  But unfortunately, on an island where white looking children have black looking grandmothers/grandfathers/parents, mixed race couples parade the streets, and you notice interesting physical structures that are clearly the result of centuries of miscegenation, a little snot nosed kid holds prejudiced attitudes and the adults in the room don’t have the balls to confront him about it. 

Race relations in Cuba, in the U.S., and in the world needs to change. We need to be that change. If you find something offensive, speak out!! Challenge your biases. Be the change. 

Peace, love, happiness, and positivity for now.  Will write some more later.

-Besitos! <3