Rejection and Technology

"I had this guy leave me a voice mail at work. So I called him at home and then he emailed me to my BlackBerry and so I texted to his cell and now you just have to go around checking all these portals just to get rejected by seven different technologies. Its exhausting." - Some clip from the movie "He's Just Not That Into You".

I was recently un-friended on Facebook.
My feelings started to be affected by the sentimentality of this particular action. Since being someone's online friend or fan doesn't necessarily warrant you to be a true friend, I started wondering about the values attached to these online friends. As in what the varying degrees of online familiarity are really meant to represent.

Defining online friendships:

I have friends online that I have never met. I like them. They like me. We connect because we may have similar interests, like music, art, Dj's, school, a video game...whatever.

I am friends with people who do not know me in any capacity at all but they want me to support them, like promoters, musicians, sales-people and other writers.

I am also friends with people who I met once in my life or are school mates from years ago, and we connect online to either relive those memories or keep in touch, but either way they are clearly not relevant in my current life.

Then there are the homies. People we love and can't live without, they are in the mix too. But we don't really depend on the online relativity and correspondence to maintain these relationships unless we are separated from these people by distance.

Lastly, there are the romantic interests...And we are going to talk about this.

Online romance or romances that spill over on to the internet, are precarious and volatile.
They are doomed because of the inadvertent way we perceive actions and/or non-action in the cyber world. Having a lover as a Facebook friend, means I end up being privy to things I would not otherwise know or think about had it not been for these terribly interpretive phenomenons. And hiding everything is suspicious. And breaking up is ridiculous on account of having to watch, deliberately or otherwise your thwarted/pined upon lover live out their existence online. (possibly with other people). It is exhausting. And its torture. Unless you delete each other. But how does that happen? Do you have a conversation about it? Do you talk about it, so both of you know what it means? Do you negotiate what is relevant to the dynamics of your newly expounded upon relationships or freedoms? See all of this...these questions and notions of how to deal, are contingent on sophisticated views of communication between lovers. Its highly unlikely.

But when rejection hits a nerve...when all of these things become relevant to our feelings and we become concerned, there is no way things end well. They can't, they won't, they don't. And some of us end up looking crazy! From online msg, sms, email, voicemail, written letter form and the grapevine.

There are now just too many ways to tell someone its over than the most honest and respectful one...face to face.

I'm just saying.

What do you think?

To my "white" friends (and other ethnic friends who need to get with the program).

I want to speak about a certain silence that exists when I know that I am the only person of color you know.

I want to speak about a certain apprehension or fear in knowing someone like me. A black person. A person of color.

What you expect from me is a lot different than what I expect from you.
And it calls into play the question of privilege that so many of you forget, or choose not to recognize its existence in the politics that make up our friendships.

So... What does that mean for you? What exactly am I trying to say?

Well friend, I am trying to say that I see a double standard in the way we do things... How we absorb things...When its cool to be about things...
You are afraid of me.
You are afraid of blackness.
You are afraid of African identities.
You seem to be self-conscious when surrounded by people of color.
You seem less willing to participate in my life when you know that you may be the only white person there, but I never see you take that as an opportunity to grow, I only see you take that as an opportunity to run or draw a line.
Becoming cultured and not acculturated should be personal obligation, but even if you did end up being acculturated (like so many of us were against our will), would that really be so bad in 2010 when you can choose what you like and love it and rock it?

Being black means so many things to me, but my being your black friend probably means a lot more politically to you than it does me.

Having black friends doesn't make you any less of a racist and loving Bob Marley doesn't make you any less of a racist and reading or watching Malcolm X or Martin Luther King Jr. or Dave Chapelle, doesn't make you any less racist.

What makes you, you and neutral, and supportive, is the willingness to accept that historically, white people have done some messed-up shit and as a result you feel afraid sometimes to be surrounded by "too many black people". Feel that anxiety and confront it. I'm sure you will grow.

Its admitting to yourself that you are ignorant about the struggles of African people beyond its third-world context. Know that the realities you witness on the 6 o'clock news or in a PSA about Somalia or Ethiopia or Congo are only a fraction of the truth, (if that!) and you owe it to yourself to do more research. Especially if it plucks on your heart strings.

Its accepting that you have a lot to learn about the human condition and resilience in the 21st century from the long standing contributions of dedicated people to humanitarian progress (of all ethnic backgrounds) and taking a hard look at race and its terribly inaccurate discourse. Its accepting your identity, by accepting people for who and what they are.
Having an anti-oppression stance on race (gender, class, economics, neo-colonialism, etc) makes you a tolerant and progressive person.

This, my friend, is work. Its intellectual work. Its mental work. Its spiritual work in the attempts to better yourself so you can see the brilliance and goodness in the creators off-spring. The divine intention for all of us being together and loving one another.
This work has some harsh realities but at least you may be able to move on.

Technically speaking, I would have far more just cause to be afraid of you in social settings and context. I have far more just cause to be non-supportive and absent from your attempts at progress and understanding. I was told a bunch of one-sided lies in school about the history of mankind and its nations all in favor of your human experience over mine. Systematically.

And until I see my white friends, taking a chance to educate themselves on the misgivings and fallacies of our current society...
Until I see my white friends showing up with the capacity to grow in love and not in the colonizing of space and ideas or the appropriation of culture or class...
Until I see my white friends take a stand against white privilege and the perils its causes in our relationships, communities and the greater society at large...
Until I see my white friends getting with the program...

We are going to have awkward silences...
We are going to have insincere moments...
We are going to have a disconnect because its time for change.

Burst your bubble of privilege and learn something.

Kisses

Korea, Me and these Idiosyncracies...

So.

I try to be positive and look at the humanity in all of these experiences but I figured it couldn't hurt to share some of these things with you. I hope you laugh.

1. Being of African decent.
At school, its cool. It looks like the kids have had enough exposure and for the most part, it doesn't feel like I am that different. My being Black, is about as measurable as my being Canadian or my being foreign to the Korean cultural context. From time to time, I get a stare that last longer than any other average acknowledgment. Old people weather me intriguing, they don't mind staring at me in my face and taking in my hair, shoe size, leg length. Its intrusive but completely understandable. I try to smile and let them know I am aware of their gaze. Sometimes they respond nicely and nod back. Sometimes they pretend it didn't happen and continue looking at something else until I have looked away so they can get back to taking me in.

2. Being tall.
It seems like I am taller and bigger than most Korean women. Even if I am not, you would never know this because most of the clothing stores I walk into greet me and the sales associates proceed to clearly state in English "no big size". Granted, I have longer legs and arms than most people. Even in Toronto do I often see the high water side of wearing pants and long sleeves. So I get it. But for some reason, its a lot more endearing here where it seems that both shoes and clothing are illusive in a North American size 4/6.

3. Space issues.
Why? Why do I get bumped around and pushed out of the way? Everything else would seem bearable except for being pushed and jammed at least 2 to 3 times a day. Now issues of space are real in Korea. The country is about the size of Portugal with 50 Million living, breathing, beings all here abiding in ,for the most part, harmony. But its seems like the whole 3 ft of personal space rule is thrown out. Concepts of space are so different here. When it comes to physical and architectural divisions of space and function, they seem less thought through than anywhere else in the world. Take for instance, sitting/standing on the train. I don't understand why people breath on each other and cough on each other. And don't get in there after 9pm because it just smells like alcohol. I call it the Soju train. I also don't understand why people don't move out of the way when you are getting on or getting off the train. Yesterday two grown ass men bulldozed me back into the train when I was trying to get off. I promptly pushed my way through but was thoroughly annoyed and expressed my frustration in English which meant nothing to them. But it was very rude. Another story was my first Seoul apartment that had no ventilation in the bathroom except for one tiny window that was about the size of my hand. And a fire escape door in my bathroom that was adjacent to my front door. I didn't get it.

4. Food.
This one is really easy. I like it. I don't love it, because exotic spices are not as explored here. But Koreans have their own spices and they rank pretty good. I make my own breakfasts and have lunch at school and we have a great dietitian who seems to keep things tasty and healthy. The only downfall with Korean food, is all this pork. These people eat so much pork. Its in almost everything. So, its been a solitary road sometimes avoiding the pork. I murder the fish though. Between the sashimi, the grilled and the fried fish, I am normally just fine. This culture also loves chicken. They mostly fry it, or soup it. There is this particular soup called 삼계탕 (samgyeatang). Its a small chicken in a nice chicken broth with onions and garlic. The chicken is broiled while stuffed with sweet prunes in the middle. You just take apart that chicken until you get to the prune stuffing. Its really good.

5. Being cordial and pleasantries.
I try. Most Koreans try. I keep making friends when I get lost in a train station or on a side street.

6. Fashionistas and Fashionistos
These people dress to impress everyday, all day. In the gym, at the movies, at the doctors office, at the grocery store, at school. Men are highly metro-sexual and women are high maintenance. There are so many hair and nail salons all around. It makes me feel like I have to have my A-game on all the time, but I like to be a bum and look scruffy from time to time. Its reality. Woman's fashion is kinda weird. They all have model body frames but I am not clear on whether or not I can't appreciate it because everything is so done. And done again and again. Like its done to the max. Men too. But men's fashion is slightly more classic so there is less to appreciate thus less to find annoying or over bearing. I will say, though, that they have taken tight jeans to a new level. Korean men look sexy in tight pants. I dig it.

7.Education
Everyone studies far more than they do in the Americas. These kids go to school for about 10 hrs a day. With extra lessons in Math, Science and English. Some kids are in Art school and sports activities too. Their lives are so busy. Teaching is fun and the kids enjoy it for the most part. The curriculum is visually outdated but I heard a rumor that they will be changing that next year. The kids are well mannered and very good-natured. My co-teachers are awesome. They are very helpful and really kind individuals. They get nervous and some serious anxiety kicks in when they have to speak to me for more than 3 mins at a time. Its funny but they are really great and I try not to stress them out too much with my English speaking conversations. My Korean language studies are non existent. I need a teacher because my vocabulary is very small and it poses as problematic when I am alone in the Korean world and want to say things that are important. Like "Don't push" and "No pork please" but these are easy phrases.

8. The army folks.
Just like in all other walks of life, there is a spectrum of personalities that pervade each community. The U.S. Military has won me over if not only for its conveniences. I don't believe in war. I don't believe in pervading/perpetual military threats or presence in seemingly peaceful societies. I don't believe in robbing mothers of their sons to serve invisible wars. And I certainly do not prescribe to know the backdating of a pretend infallible society of law-makers who trump up the frustrations of men and women who a faced with the fact that they cannot afford school or the chance to provide for their families. This is the reality that we live in and it sucks. So I tolerate and not entirely berate the experience. Especially for young black people who want to make something of themselves in this life. But let me not say anymore before Babylon reports me and I can never go back on the peoples' army base.

9. Me time.
I'm singing, writing, playing guitar, twisting my dreads, reading, raising a "Thug-Lyfe" puppy and practicing magic. All of which feel amazing and are cleansing for my tormented soul. This life is hard on a sensitive girl like me. My outer shell cracked last year and I am scrambling to repair it. Therapy? Maybe.

Everything is everything and everything is good.
Keep letting the God in you shine forth on to humanity so we can be who we are supposed to be. Sometimes that's the best you can do.

Kisses

Heart sore.

I am not as confused as before.
Still angry.
Much has changed but I longed for it.
I have been tempted to call and ask what has come of the year.
Since our anniversary is coming up. The season of tears is definitely not in repetition, but I still think about you.
I still think about you.

I still shed a tear or two over you.
Thinking about your mother and your books and your father and his looks.
I still cry over you wishing things could be different.
Wanting to call and ask what has come of the year. But too afraid to know.
That...
You might be doing better than me.
You may not be thinking of me at all.
Or maybe you are expecting a child.
Or maybe you moved.
Or maybe you don't miss me at all.

(sigh)

One of these days...I am going to feel better about this.
One of these days.