life. love. tribulations.

Through the eyes of a mujer named daisy

thepeoplesrecord:

The troubling viral trend of the “hilarious” Black poor person
May 7, 2013

Charles Ramsey, the man who helped rescue three Cleveland women presumed dead after going missing a decade ago, has become an instant Internet meme. It’s hardly surprising—the interviews he gave yesterday provide plenty of fodder for a viral video, including memorable soundbites (“I was eatin’ my McDonald’s”) and lots of enthusiastic gestures. But as Miles Klee and Connor Simpson have noted, Ramsey’s heroism is quickly being overshadowed by the public’s desire to laugh at and autotune his story, and that’s a shame. Ramsey has become the latest in a fairly recent trend of “hilarious” black neighbors, unwitting Internet celebrities whose appeal seems rooted in a “colorful” style that is always immediately recognizable as poor or working-class.

Before Ramsey, there was Antoine Dodson, who saved his younger sister from an intruder, only to wind up famous for his flamboyant recounting of the story to a reporter. Since Dodson’s rise to fame, there have been others: Sweet Brown, a woman who barely escaped her apartment complex during a fire last year, and Michelle Clarke, who couldn’t fathom the hailstorm that rained down in her hometown of Houston, and in turn became “the next Sweet Brown.”

Granted, the buzzworthy tactic of reporters interviewing the most loquacious witnesses to a crime or other event is nothing new, and YouTube has countless examples of people of all ethnicities saying ridiculous things. One woman, for instance, saw fit to casually mention her breasts while discussing a local accident, while another man described a car crash with theatrical flair. Earlier this year, a “hatchet-wielding hitchhiker” named Kai matched Dodson’s fame with his astonishing account of rescuing a woman from a racist attacker. But none of those people have been subjected to quite the same level of derisive memeification as Brown, Clark, and now, perhaps, Ramsey—the inescapable echoes of “Hide yo’ kids, hide yo’ wife!” and “Kabooyaw,” the tens of millions of YouTube hits and cameos in other viral videos, even commercials.

It’s difficult to watch these videos and not sense that their popularity has something to do with a persistent, if unconscious, desire to see black people perform. Even before the genuinely heroic Ramsey came along, some viewers had expressed concern that the laughter directed at people like Sweet Brown plays into the most basic stereotyping of blacks as simple-minded ramblers living in the “ghetto,” socially out of step with the rest of educated America. Black or white, seeing Clark and Dodson merely as funny instances of random poor people talking nonsense is disrespectful at best. And shushing away the question of race seems like wishful thinking.

Ramsey is particularly striking in this regard, since, for a moment at least, he put the issue of race front and center himself. Describing the rescue of Amanda Berry and her fellow captives, he says, “I knew something was wrong when a little pretty white girl ran into a black man’s arms. Something is wrong here. Dead giveaway!”

The candid statement seems to catch the reporter off guard; he ends the interview shortly afterward. And it’s notable that among the many memorable things Ramsey said on camera, this one has gotten less meme-attention than most. Those who are simply having fun with the footage of Ramsey might pause for a second to actually listen to the man. He clearly knows a thing or two about the way racism prevents us from seeing each other as people.

Source

Now that you know this is a thing, please stop sharing these memes. Poor Black people speaking candidly about various serious incidents isn’t a hilarious joke.

(via oseagallo)

Talks with Patricio post-Mecha Nationals. Wish I could have busted that trip. Listening to my body is hard. Though my mind and heart want to, I needed to stay. My body craved some rest, and busting a 2 hour mission to and back would have been way too much. Be more open with the parents about wants and needs. Though, I may bump heads with them a lot… they will understand me a little tiny bit better. They know I’m crazy, but they should know why. Its not all in vain, there’s so much of their own struggles in life that have been unintentionally passed on to me. Transgenerational trauma. I need to heal, and help heal. But first, I need to heal. 

I really am in LOVE. In deep. 

long distance

I know I’ve been doing it for almost a year, but sometimes I wonder how is it done? I get super impatient waiting around for the day he comes. Perhaps, its because I live at home and doing things for myself seems so foreign and sometimes criticized by my parents. I refrain from doing things that make me truly happy. I understand I need to grow up, but lemme do it on my own. Maybe I should just move out? Ya ni se. 

the 9-5 gig is cramping my youthful living. no concerts on weekdays. what what? Missing out on Yasiin Bey last night…. and I knew that he was coming… pero it hurts to know that you missed out on it when your friends post pictures up of their presence at the show. Oh wells. Pa la proxima.

The more I try to remember what it felt to have a place of my own, the more difficult it seems to recall. I remember the mess I had all the time. The piles of blankets I needed to warm myself up at night when he wasn’t there to cuddle. The freedom to be naked and examine my movement without questioning, embarrassment, censorship. I think I chose well in moving back home with my parents. I think I’m choosing well in moving out too. It seems very surreal to have that in mind, but I think its the best move for me at the moment.
Its not for the sake of sanity but rather for my own happiness. Living with my family has been great overall. I cannot blame them for my self-restraint. They never wished for that. I miss feeling independent tho. It seems like the strangest thing to move out of my parents home when so many of my friends remain in their families’ home. I feel like I’m stepping into unchartered territory. Pioneering in an experience I had never conceived. To live in Los Angeles, but not in my parents home. Its a contradiction, no? It’ll be better tho. I have a few months to prepare for that moment. A few months to enjoy everyday home-cooked meals, watching novelas with my mom every night, coming home to warm hearts. 
Moving out is moving on. Going forward. I need to grow. I can’t grow at home. I learn at snails pace, and right now I just need to learn at my own pace. In my own time. In my own space. I’m ready. 

The more I try to remember what it felt to have a place of my own, the more difficult it seems to recall. I remember the mess I had all the time. The piles of blankets I needed to warm myself up at night when he wasn’t there to cuddle. The freedom to be naked and examine my movement without questioning, embarrassment, censorship. 

I think I chose well in moving back home with my parents. I think I’m choosing well in moving out too. It seems very surreal to have that in mind, but I think its the best move for me at the moment.

Its not for the sake of sanity but rather for my own happiness. Living with my family has been great overall. I cannot blame them for my self-restraint. They never wished for that. I miss feeling independent tho. It seems like the strangest thing to move out of my parents home when so many of my friends remain in their families’ home. I feel like I’m stepping into unchartered territory. Pioneering in an experience I had never conceived. To live in Los Angeles, but not in my parents home. Its a contradiction, no? It’ll be better tho. I have a few months to prepare for that moment. A few months to enjoy everyday home-cooked meals, watching novelas with my mom every night, coming home to warm hearts. 

Moving out is moving on. Going forward. I need to grow. I can’t grow at home. I learn at snails pace, and right now I just need to learn at my own pace. In my own time. In my own space. 

I’m ready. 

tomorrow: the start of a new routine

My days as a lazy bum are slowly coming to an end. I don’t think I was much of a lazy bum tho. Perhaps, I was more along the lines of a bed bum hustler. I applied to many jobs and some I did get some call backs for… they just weren’t right. 

I applied to so many DIFFERENT jobs that I wasn’t exactly sure what I wanted in life anymore. My drive: gone. I just understood that this process of applying and rejection would be continual and contingent on mi suerte. Where was I meant to be. I find myself in little Pico Rivera, my parents home, wondering what tomorrow will be like. 

Unlike many momentous events in my life, this one seems like something on my to-do list. I don’t feel excited or motivated. I don’t feel nervous. I don’t expect anything. It feels like I’m going to work at cal perfs as an usher again. I hated that job tho I loved a lot of the people I worked with. I have some good memories, free concerts, lectures, etc. But I still hated the physical exhaustion I would experience every night after a shift.

That same feeling I got for that job, I am getting now. I wonder, how will this job work out for me. I’ve delayed my job search for the last 2 weeks. That excitement that I had for a job in education has died along with my drive. I’m feeling lost and confused. 

All I want to do is live. Quiero vivir de la vida, no dejar que la vida viva de mi. 

1 month testrun. sighssss