Sometimes...Pastimes

My privileged trait is the wounded child in me, embarrassed, feeling unworthy, finally succeeding, hands raised in celebration, but not taking the time to acknowledge the helping hands, the cushioned walls, padded floors, wind at my back, first aid tents, the stepped on, the ripped up, the chipped away, or left behind that contributed to getting me here.  That child in me is consumed by the trophy, the purse, the recognition, the celebrity, and the reward.  That child in me forgets the preciousness in the journey, the lessons shared, the gratitude returned, the credit due, and the responsibility to look back and give back.

I am guilty of feeling privileged especially to pity.  I have appropriately and with enough practicality exhausted my victimization.  I have engraved deep enough my sad stories.  I have held enough shared sadness to believe in my degradation.  I have felt the sting of my disadvantage and inconvenience.  I have grieved my perceptions of unfairness.  It led me to become a contradiction.  It caused me to bite the hand that feeds me.  Most of those hands were melanin deficient, blessed, and equally struggling to be loved.



Rich folks saved my life.  The taste of class motivated me.  The feel of quality inspired me.  The innovation that comes from technology taught me.  The institutions accommodated me.  I have for the past 4 years bitten the hands that fed me.  I am embarrassed.  Most of the hands had light skin, white skin.  Where I came from would have kept me tied up had it not been for those who untied me out there.  Out there is complex, rarely absolute, and a playground for cognitive dissonance.

El Rey Day!

Featured Artist: Nikkolas Smith

If Dr. Martin Luther King Jr wore a hoodie:  My social progress has disconnected me from my social class, a childhood community.  I can't relate to the cholo like I once could.  I don't know if I am seen as Chicano.  I am living among the privileged, remembering like the disadvantaged, and thinking like the revolutionized.  I find my interests aren't congruent enough with my hommie's to participate in once cherished careless tomfoolery.  My tolerance for superficiality has almost evaporated.  The conscious Chicano is unfortunately scarce.  The proud Chicanos are just to loud for me.  Dr. King how come you never wore a hoodie?

I don't have the street cred passion that might have kept me close to the barrio.  I now lean towards the intellect, whom I find often isolate themselves, maybe for the same disconnecting reasons.  I am falling into indifference, not able to see injustice clearly, but understanding a common insecurity to compete.  I am seeing with non-violent eyes, but blending in like a dude with a hoodie.

I don't feel called to evangelize, revolt, march on main street, sit in, or ask for change.  I feel like throwing on my hoodie, popping out 100 pull ups, running some sprints, winking at the cutie with the light eyes, and then grabbing some green tea with a kale salad.  For once in my life I don't feel like changing this world, but can't seem to hold back the complaining.  I just feel like continuing to ground myself.  I feel worn down with resistance.   I have a hard time keeping my commitment to uncovering, discovering, and illuminating cultural dysfunction.

The pain, the lactic build up in my heart is there. The easy choice to be like everyone else whispers with pleasure.  Being non-violent doesn't mean there won't be pain.  I think it should have been called the Without Rudeness Movement or My Truth Hurts Movement because maintaining dignity can be violent.  I can barely remember the slang that united me with mi raza.  I have learned my way into an upper-enough class.  But  a class that still can't feel me.  Maybe a class that only sees a vato in a hoodie.  I am no longer familiar with one community and still not quite integrated into the other.  That is what I think of when I see the word "hoodie".  I am not quite from the hood, and I am not pedigree enough to be privileged.  I will always be just a little bit hoodie.

Dr. King what would you have to say about being somewhere between?

Delivery man bring some compassion.

I think I have learned from my entanglement with discrepancy that we all want to see ourselves as overcoming the impossible.  What has been difficult to share with people who don't come from the barrio, people who have light skin, people who are middle class, people who are the dominant culture, and people who are mainstream is the idea of advantage, a.k.a privilege.  As soon as you come across a person who argues the idea of social privilege, I come to the conclusion that their idea of success is a simple formula of hard work and dedication.  How do I argue that?  I don't!

I am learning to thank God that there are those out there that don't have to experience the barrio life, the suspicious appearance, the limited lifestyle, the inferior ideas, and the margins of acceptance.  I have learned to stop convincing, debating, and advocating for the disadvantaged.  I have learned that perception is the most powerful psychological tool a person can see with.  I have learned that we all like to see ourselves as overcoming the impossible, even the privileged.  I might even say that people like to believe that they have had a rough enough journey to qualify as an underdog.  I have come to the idea that privilege doesn't need an advocate, I am learning to accept that fairness is not measurable.

So what I can do is wonder and be curious.  After this song played, after the video settled into my psyche, I began to identify with the limited visibility we base our perceptions on. Maybe even as limited to our own memories or sad stories.  If so many folks believe that hard work and dedication are remedies to poverty, than so be it.  I start to critically remember that this video uses the metaphor of "pizza man" and a "no delivery zone", and I can expand on how that is only a thin slice of the pie.

If its too dangerous for the pizza man, then it sure is too dangerous for the mathematics tutors, college preparatory programs, after school programs, a young man to grieve, Wholefoods, a fitness center, Yoga, parks with grass, hoops with nets, Fro-Yo, sentences without cuss words, family with parents who have flexible work schedules, friends who can withstand peer pressure, employee or parent sponsored recovery programs for addicts, lawyers for misdemeanors, books on a bookshelf, walls without sprayed paint, dogs with collars on leashes wearing cardigans, selling drugs as a as a hobby because here its a career, a habit called responsible drug use, boy scouts tying knots, girls scouts selling cookies, patience, compassion, investment, or attention.

If its to dangerous for the pizza man then it sure ain't too dangerous for the payday lenders, the bondsman, the cigarette shop, the liquor store, the quick mart, planned parenthood, soup kitchen,  house flippers flipping houses, the drive by pharmacist dropping baggies, the Dollar Mart, pawn shop, train tracks, vocational high school, random traffic stops, DWI check points, and police sub stations.

But this might be because the privileged like to believe that privilege doesn't discriminate.  Often I hear, "why shouldn't I benefit from my family's successes".  The privileged don't feel obligated to question the advantage their ancestors created.  Sarcastically, it might be because some inferior peoples prefer to increase their discomfort.  Satirically, it might be the opportunity for some foolish peoples to create a chance for themselves to work even harder.  Maybe its that people add challenges to life for the chance to test their dedication. It could be like an exercise for wherewithal.

So it is possible that we all have privileges.  Again sarcastically, it might be that some of us prefer to alter our availability to it.  Maybe some of us are just not as motivated to work hard.  Maybe some of us just don't have the discipline to remain dedicated.  Or maybe having privilege makes it inconvenient to reflect back on how it was created.  Maybe we might see that our peeps, daddy, grandpa, mamma, grandma or mi patria took short cuts, cheated, payed the right people, sold out the right people, sold out the right cultures, took advantage of the right markets, or capitalized on the right insecurities.  It might be easier to believe that I deserve the privilege available to me because my peeps worked harder and had more dedication.  I can dig that, but I don't.  Its complicated, right?

Privilege is when I take a blessing and turn it into an advantage to elevate my social value at the expense of others.  Responsibility is a word that I am committing my life to.  Responsibility is when I take a blessing and enhance my life so that it enhances the life of those around me.  As long as there is disadvantage or discrepancy I will have to critically evaluate how I leverage my blessings.  There is a beautiful paradox between learning to understand privilege and knowing how to be responsible to the living, because far too much value has been depended on or inherited from the dead.

Truth doesn't remove doubt

Living in New Mexico the majority of my life I rarely understood or considered my ethnic privilege. Similar to white privilege, the Spanish exploration and decimation of many cultures in the pursuit of expanding Catholicism and commerce established mestizo communities that for many years functioned like a privileged and dominant force. It isn't well publicized how the Spanish rampaged through North America. The allure of the Catholic churches camouflages the elitist qualities that seem to have found its way here. I finally have embraced my "white privilege".  The Spaniard in me.  It is confusing for me because Anglo American's Old Money privilege has replaced the Spanish conquest privilege.  I no longer feel the full capacity of privilege.
 

I celebrate the Birthday of a hero today.  Rigoberta Menchu, a Mayan woman who endured the Guatemalan civil war, with a passion to tell the truth.  The story of Che Guevara helped me discover the truths behind the Guatemalan civil war.  The truth that brown people, jente, and raza could hold that same greedy characteristics as the Roosevelt's,  Rockefellers, and Simms (of Albuquerque).  I see that these wealthy families see money and ownership as success, where to me it looks like greed.  They see their excesses and convenience as accomplishments, where to me it seems like gluttonous luxury.  They see their impact as contribution instead of intrusion.  I could go on, but regardless I found brown privilege in my reflection for the first time in my life.

Despite thriving in a region surrounded by neglected pueblo and Indian communities, I grew to function like a victim.  My journeys to Guatemala changed that.  Rigoberta's book and story helped me realize my blessings and the shadow quality of them. These shadows I call privilege.  Privilege is the darker side of a blessing.  The civil war in Guatemala has not been publicized to the world because it shows the darker American dreams.  It shows that a little truth, like a valid tiny communist presence in Guatemala, could be enough reason for wealthy Dulles brothers to capitalize on their privilege, instigating war.  This allowed for brown privilege to inspire ideology and fear.  The results were a well trained and convinced army that eliminated thousands of innocent people.  I believe in a responsibility that comes with being blessed and it is to be humble, modest, and dignified.  I pray that fairness find its roots in Guatemala, and not from the perspective of the privileged.

This Ted talk synchronously released near Rigoberta's birthday is magical.  It helps me bring to mind my own ancestors, my contributions to Burque (Albuquerque), and how I can minimize the darker side of my blessings.

 

An intro to ChicanoFit

Cool talk about the shadow characteristics of efficiency.  When I think of efficiency I think of Crossfit.  The revolutionary fitness strategy that applies the latest research and discoveries in fitness in hopes of creating the fittest human beings.  I am going to apply this talk to my fitness.  



I have grown beyond the Crossfit model, not excluding it, but rather integrating it.  I don't call myself a crossfitter, but I do admire the community.  I believe it is the fittest community a person can buy.  I have found that despite its principles being focused on efficiency and functionality, it is really geared toward being a better crossfitter and heavy aspects of looking stronger, maybe even "Hot"!   

As I wanted to apply my Crossfit body to my life, creating a lifestyle, I found that a lot of people who are out there exploring, adventuring, and using functional strength aren't crossfitting.  Often they call Crossfit a cult, even those I know in the special forces or SEAL community.  I know that Crossfit is an essential ingredient to my wellness, so I hold praise and criticism with curiosity.  I do know that I have held an unbalanced appreciation for efficiency that has had a detrimental effect on my ideas and body. 

Crossfitters are crossfitting, but are they doing it functionally in the world or in their boxes?  Is efficient absolutely efficient?  I continue to ChicanoFit, which for now includes Crossfit.  I integrate Crossfit, but only so it can make me functional for life outside a "Box".  Created with a brother in wellness, M.D. Galen Castillo-Loughrey and I, as we embarked on our bandwagon discovery of Crossfit, found that our methods were slightly unique enough to have a different name.  ChicanoFit is our approach to wellness.  I will be writing about it, claiming it as a true philosophy towards wellness.  I will be calling it a search for joy, where best isn't necessarily the "Best"!  I hope it will be a modest and humble path to empowerment.  Still considering whether we'll keep our shirts on.  {Smiling}

A return to "Soul-cial Media"

A New Year! No tracks, a clear path, and the whistle of a winter storm invites!

I stopped blogging almost a year ago.  I actually quit "blogging" long before that.  I was not sharing to present a perspective of me for others, I was hoping to write to paint a portrait for legacy's sake. I'm not trying to express myself for social media.  I try to let my posting be a small contribution of a true me to a e-community that is human at heart and ego thirsty by nature.  I try to express me in the greatest of light and in the eeriest of shadows. Social media tends to be more about presenting the self as we hope to be perceived.  I am guilty of this desire, and chose to take time away from wanting to be seen.  With the end of 2014, I visited how I presented myself through social media.  I was pleased and with it I will "Restart".



What a better way than a chronological restart to help a "soul-cial media" restart.  I have continued writing all year, on a moleskin journal, an evernote electronic notebook, and as an amateur and published poet.  Those that take time to know the real me, beyond the social media me, understand I am rarely typical.  I am often seen as difficult, an old soul, and even unrealistic with a hint of idealism.  Those I click with, have gentler descriptions.  Those that don't understand me might call me rude, criminal, or unfair.  Those in my family might have even more critical versions.  Regardless, I want to continue my participation as a citizen of a social media with a genuine contribution of my writing and discovery.  Because I might be missing out.



The year was an amazing collection of endings, beginnings, and continuations.  I accomplished goals. I accepted new ones. I stopped to see that I had major injuries to the body and spirit.  I cared for myself by slowing life down.  I asked for help.  I had surgery on my body, mind, and soul.  I watched my daughters begin to communicate like future adults.  I grew closer to my father and mother.  I grew further from some friends.  I strengthened my lifestyle with a continued faith in Christ.  I left the year 2013 wondering if I really was a good man.  I leave the year 2014 knowing I've made so much progress with being hu...man.  I am discovering the areas I can be curious about.  I arrive in 2015 determined to do all things with dignity.

Con o Sin Melanin!

Not immigrants, not fruit pickers, not slaves, not illegal, nor lesser, 

but travelers, harvesters, contributors, survivors and human! 

When the melanin deficient humans migrate, they are pioneers. 

When they are functioning they call themselves a workforce. 

When they are prospering they call themselves liberated. 

When they walk out their door they look dignified.

When the melanin enriched humans migrate they are forbidden and criminal.

When they work together productively they are seen as equipment, subversive, deviant, and delinquent.

When they are free, they tend to be hunted, monitored, and regulated.

When they walk out their door, they look suspicious.

The melanin deficient human share in different vocations.

You say Lawyer, I say Reconciler.

You say Doctor, I say Restorer.

You say CEO, I say Servant Leader.

You say President, I say Intercessor.

You say God Bless America, I ask God What is not Blessed that I may know where to serve?

But the beauty of it all is that this is not truth, maybe common, but how often is complicated.

- Ron Estrada