On MLK on his Day

Of all the images I saw to use for this post, this one seemed the most appropriate, for some reason. On the day before a black man takes over the White House, here's a photo of one of the first black men to get into the White House and have a little pull. And now, three decades later, the tables are about to turn a bit - I can't help but feel a little giddy as I imagine Obama in Lyndon Johnson's place, and an earnest white man swapped for MLK.

Now, as far as MLK goes, there is nothing I can write here that can honor him better than (or even as well as) the numerous events, articles, videos, etc. that are out there or happening today. And so I won't try to do that. Instead, I'll put in a few thoughts on his legacy, from my perspective, on this day.

In my head right now, this holiday is sandwiched between two extremes - the shooting death of unarmed Oscar Grant by a BART policeman in Oakland (for a quick-and-dirty description, go here) and its riotous aftermath (almost worse, read here), and the inauguration of our first black president tomorrow.

The former represents "business as usual" and the obvious neglect of MLK's famous "dream" and the means by which he wanted that dream achieved. The second represents an historic step towards the achievement of that "dream" decades sooner than most of us believed it could happen.

So which one is the true indicator? Obviously, the shooting and riots makes clear that we are a long ways away from the "post-racial" society that a lot of wannabe "color-blinders" would like to claim. However, Obama's election also shows that this country just isn't quite as racist as a lot of us (myself definitely included) thought it was.

If you've read this blog for a while, you know I'm a big Blue Scholars fan, and this quote from "Back Home" always seems to sum it up so perfectly:

"And they say progress but the fact is, Dr. Martin Luther King's legacy is lookin like the street we named after him
Permanently under construction, the people hustlin'
Despite the pain and sufferin'"

Now, Geologic is talking about the MLK Ave. in Seattle, but he could just as well be talking about Portland (or any number of other major cities in the U.S.). Here, MLK Ave. used to be tied to the predominantly-black area of town. It used to be lined with black-owned businesses, homes, etc. Now, as you proceed northward, the street progresses from mostly white-owned businesses, to fancier, gentrified white-owned businesses, to a bit of that "permanently under construction, people hustlin" stretch of blocks that still remains primarily a black neighborhood - then back to the rest. And, not unpredictably (but sadly), those few blocks I mentioned are where white folks try not to be after dark.

And I think it truly is in this street named after him that we can see a representation of MLK's legacy.

In that one street, we see how "things are getting better" in a very surface-level way. The street is getting "cleaned up," there are "nicer" businesses and restaurants popping up. It's "safer." Much like the election of Obama as president signifies the "progress" we've been making.

On the flip side, that street makes clear that segregation still very much exists (although not as a legal institution). It demonstrates the distinct economic gap between black and white that continues to this day. The schools in the north part of town are the city's worst, by far. The area is targeted by police and "gang-prevention" task forces (which has to happen, due to the current escalation in gang violence in the area, but it's still a sad reflection of Bull Connor's "police state").

And so - on a symbolic level - we've come a very long way from MLK's time. People of color have so many more rights and protections compared to the 60s in this country. People of color - men and women - have reached prominent positions in the government and society as a whole. A man of color is about to sit at the head of the table in the Oval Office.

But - damn - do we still have so much more work to do. Because the state of segregation in this country (by neighborhood, by quality of schools, by economic status, by police targeting) hasn't come as far - by half - as it should have, considering my previous paragraph. As long as "cleaning up" a street means moving the people of color out, MLK's dream remains only a wish in the wind. As long as police can murder an unarmed black man in front of a crowd of folks that share his skin-tone , MLK's ghost cannot rest. As long as large numbers of people of color still feel that violence and revolution are the only answer, we cannot allow ourselves to sit around patting ourselves on the backs.

So - today, I will think on the positive indicators of change and progress that Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.'s courage (and that of the men and women who fought - and fight - the same fight) has allowed us to achieve.

Tomorrow, I will watch the inauguration with tears in my eyes, and smile with joy at all the voters around me.

After that? It's back to work, and I will continue to think on the fact that George Bush (Sr. or Jr.) never gave their speeches from behind bullet-proof glass and do what I can to spark some true, permanent change for the better in this country.

And I ask the rest of you to do the same.

On Race and Class Through Musical Culture

Saturday night, I went to a classical guitar performance (Eliot Fiske with Angel Romero, for anybody interested). The show was held in an old church with two levels of seating - a perfect scene for two masters to play Spanish-influenced classical music on the guitar.

And it was one of the better musical performances I have seen in a long while. Not only were the two musicians playing at the highest level, but they also seemed to be honestly enjoying the experience of performing and playing together. My emotions constantly pinballed between amazement (what I call "holy sh--" uncontrollable awe) and a sense of fun, musical joy throughout the whole two-hour show, and I came out of it inspired and lighter on my feet.

In fact, I am currently searching for some Spanish-style classical guitar pieces to sample for some of my own creative expression.

Of course, I couldn't help but notice the make-up of the crowd at this particular performance: predominantly white, middle-to-upper class, 40s and older, dressed elegantly. There were a number of Asian folks, some possibly-mixed folks, but not a SINGLE black face in the crowd.

And there's nothing new there. Between the price of the ticket ($30 a pop), and the cultural associations of classical music, I wasn't really expecting a bunch of young folks of color to be there.

But, oddly enough, it wasn't really who was there (or not there) that struck me the most. Instead, I kept thinking about how the crowd behaved throughout the performance.

Basically, the performance alternated between complete silence (and stillness) of the audience while the music was being played, to controlled applause and murmuring in between. Again - exactly as expected.

But, for some reason, it felt really odd to me this time around. Because the thing is - the type of guitar they were playing was far from "traditionally" passive classical music. The Spanish flavor (specifically the Flamenco influences) infused their playing with a penchant for dramatic flourishes, a bit of showing-off, and emotion. Energy was interspersed with a catching rhythm and bursts of jaw-dropping feats of ridiculous guitar aptitude (I can't even begin to describe the crazy sh-- Angel Romero did with his guitar). Half the time, I had to catch myself to keep from yelling out loud or nudging my friend (A.) and saying, "Did you f-ing see that!??" It was sick. In the good way.

And that's the crazy thing. The overall feel of this show (in terms of the actual performance) reminded me more of watching a b-boy battle or hearing a ridiculously-talented emcee flow to an equally-talented dj's beat than a "typical" classical performance. There was just so much energy and bravado.

And yet - the crowd just sat still and silent, waiting until the end to applaud (loudly, but still seated - and just clapping). When the whole show was over, the crowd got a little livelier, but it blew my mind how strict cultural rules can be. These two men were blowing the lid off the place, and we were all just sitting there (myself included).

And it seemed such a perfect example of cultural norms in action: the generally white, (but more importantly) upper-class mentality of controlled emotions versus the generally PoC, (but more importantly) not-so-upper class mentality of let it out and be heard.

I mean, to sum it up - folks were just sitting around, getting excited, but holding it in and waiting their turn to show some appreciation through controlled clapping when - I felt - we all should have been screaming at the amazing parts and stomping our feet to the rhythmic parts - maybe even dancing a little bit.

And I know I wasn't the only one. I could see the physical reactions from the folks around me at the "oh-my-f-ing-G did he really do that!?" parts - and I wasn't the only one that wanted to say something. I heard the excited murmuring after each piece, and I knew I wasn't the only one who wanted to be a little bit louder. I saw bodies rocking a bit to the rhythms - not just mine.

But none of that happened - because of the cultural rules of watching "classical music." The same rules that say the ticket price must be exorbitant, and the dress code is formal. The same rules that implicitly make folks of less means (and of color) feel out of their element and keep them away.

Because it's not just hip-hop fans who let loose - any loud-ass rock show will be filled with screaming fans. In fact, I bet everybody in that church with me at the show has also screamed their heads off and moved their bodies at a different kind of musical performance in the past.

Just not there. And it makes me wonder - how did this come about? Did everybody used to respond to music emotionally and loudly (as seems most natural) until the upper-class tried to distance themselves from the "peasants" by acting differently? Did some group of Free-Mason-esque Illuminati sit down and draft the "rules of upper-class spectating"? Did some upper-crust Freud-disciple decide that "controlling one's emotions" was most "civilized" and then adapt that to every aspect of their world? Did white folks see how folks of color did it, and then change their own rules to make sure that they acted noticeably different - and make it easier to exclude the PoC?

It just makes me wonder. Because how we all behaved at that show was so unbelievably unnatural, and yet it was completely unsurprising at the same time.

Just like the ridiculous "rational" behaviors people demonstrate when confronted by race.

Expected. Normal. And so totally insane.

On Asian Domination

I really enjoy seeing Asian people being better at things than other races. I really do.

Isn't that kind of f-ed up?

I just got home from watching a hip-hop dance showcase that featured a number of different dance crews from the Pacific Northwest, and I enjoyed it a lot. It wasn't the best talent in the world, but it was good enough to make an entertaining show, and some of the dancers were pretty good.

But guess who the best crew was? Yeah - that's right - the all-Asian crew. And if you don't know much about the hip-hop dance scene (specifically b-boy, but other forms, as well), Asians kind of dominate on a general level, these days. And so there was a very noticeable Asian presence at this show (both performing and attending), and it was really nice. In this town, where I seldom see Asian folks outside of very specific areas, it was nice to not be the "only one" by a long shot. It's also nice to see so many other Asian folks at a hip-hop related event (even if it was just dance).

And it was especially nice to see the Asian folks represent by making most of the other crews look a little shoddy.

Because I LOVE to watch Asian people dominate. I got all into tandem diving during the Olympics because the Chinese men were so much better than the other competitors. I'm all about international b-boy competitions because the Koreans win so handily on a regular basis. I loved watching Jet Li kick European asses portraying Huo Yuan Jia in "Fearless." "Letters from Iwo Jima" was a fine film, but it pissed me off.

And, in some ways, it's so very odd that I root for all Asian people against the world in this way. Because I have as much in common with most Koreans, Chinese, Japanese, etc. as I do with the French (maybe less). I'm so damn American in so many ways, and yet I will always clap happily when Daisuke Matsuzaka strikes a guy out. I love it when somebody's Ford gives them engine trouble while I drive my Toyota without a hiccup at 165,000 miles.

But I'm not Japanese. At all. I have no Korean blood. The Mongols invaded China, but I'm still a fan of Ghenghis Khan. I've still never been to China.

And yet . . .

It's a testament to the power of race in America that I am this way. That, in spite of all the opportunities I have been presented simply by being an American citizen, I have more conscious loyalties to foreign nations that have no connection to my blood, just because of hair color and the folds of our eyelids. That I have lived through media representations and stereotypes for so long, that it makes me want to cheer every time an Asian man kicks ass publicly. That the dominant people of this country have considered me "foreign" so long that I identify that way.

It's crazy. Because I am so American. My mannerisms. The way I dress. How I talk. My values. All so typically American. But, somehow, I have been pushed away from that identification.

And it's not even just Asian people that I root for (although they're at the top of my list - just being honest). I find myself hoping that Brazil scores a hundred goals on the American soccer team. I laugh when the Kenyans win another Boston Marathon. I hope that Jerome Iginla is the key to his Flames winning ten straight Stanley Cups (in the NHL).

Because - no matter how much I have gotten from this country, and how "American" I am, through and through - I can never think of myself as fully belonging to this nation, because those running this country do not look anything like me, and never have.

And until that changes - every four years tandem diving will be one of my favorite sporting events.

On "Conscious" Music

I pretty much only listen to hip-hop these days. The music I write leans more heavily towards hip-hop sounds. And my lyrics? Definitely based on a hip-hop flow.

But it wasn't always this way. In fact, it's only in the past year or two that hip-hop really took over my musical tastes. Before that, I was one of those "a little bit of everything" people. A little longer before that, and I would have said that "indie rock" was the most represented genre of music in my collection.

So what happened? Well, basically - I was politicized. And then I started really listening to lyrics. At that point, I was left with no option - it was get inspired and hear something worth being said, or settle for "loves lost" and interesting instrumentation. I chose the former, of course.

Because Portland has knocked the apathy right out of me in regards to politics. It's something about being in the whitest city in the country, surrounded by self-proclaimed "liberals" that causes a person of color to really start seeking out something MORE. To actively start looking for friends that run a shade darker than the omnipresent majority and are conscious of what's going on around them. Seeking white friends who are willing to acknowledge their own privilege and ignorance. And to look for a place or state of being where those things are the norm, as opposed to how the rest of life in this city can be.

And that led me to hip-hop. Or, more accurately, led me into a specific sub-set of hip-hop culture closest to its roots. The political brand that has come to be known as "conscious" hip-hop. Of course, that name is applied broadly, and I don't exactly agree with all the various artists that people call "conscious," but we'll move past that for now. The point being that hip-hop was the only genre of music that seemed to have something to really offer me when I was looking. Something for a person of color frustrated with a world dominated by white folks (or at least a white world-view). Somebody looking for the calming deep breath that being around other folks of color could provide.

And it makes me wonder - was there anywhere else to go? Now I'm more than happy with where I landed (and how that has been working out for me, artistically and socially), but I wonder if other genres could have offered me something similar. And I don't really know.

Because I'm not aware of too many other "conscious" forms of music. I wasn't alive for the punk scene of the 80s. Bob Marley has been appropriated by the very middle-to-upper-class white folks that he was originally fighting against. All the gods of the blues are dead, and their music has been appropriated, run-over, or put on the back-burner. John Lennon is dead.

So is there anybody else out there? Do white rock singers really only care about how depressed they are? The Dixie Chicks drubbed up such back-lash and press when they got a little political - but is that because they were the exception? What they said was a drop of water in the ocean of conscious hip-hop's messages, so did people care because it was so uncommon in the world of white music?

I want answers. I'm curious. Is there "conscious" indie-rock? Are there underground, struggling political rock lyricists fighting the good fight? If I knew where to look, could I find Asian-American singers with something real to say to mirror the Blue Scholars or Native Guns? Is there a stage in that setting where I could stand up and say what I often NEED to say and get a positive reaction?

Are there musicians outside of hip-hop that can speak to the politicized (i.e. aware) me?

This is the question I ask my new batch of readers (now that I'm really getting a lot of them coming through). And if the answer to all of these questions is a resounding no - then my back-up question is: why? What keeps that from happening (even in a small way)?

Music is an interesting social phenomenon, and this is likely to be just the first of a series of posts examining the politics and psychology of musical tastes. I hope to learn a lot from my readers in this regard, and I'm looking forward to it.