Skip to main content

Quandary's

What is the exact number of times one can be hurt, used or abused before one can righteously say: Fuck Off, and want nothing more to do with the person? If it looks like a duck, quacks like a duck, and walks like a duck, and I've operated as a duck sanctuary in the past, am I not entitled to refuse entry to ducks if I have no more room?

If one has to talk to 100 people before finding 1 decent person, doesn't that mean one has to say: Fuck Off more often than not?

If you meet someone who introduces you to someone whom they rave about and you finally meet, and you instantly know they have discomfort because you are not white, what do you do? Do you tell the well meaning person that introduced you? Do you not tell the introducer so as not to hurt their feelings, or do you smile like you don't notice and just grin and bare the obvious discomfort of the person not liking you?

If you are the only one that makes overtures of friendship, in a one sided friendship, are you friends? If someone has your phone number, never calls you, but always asks why you never call, are you obliged to say something?

If everyone knows people of colour are treated differently, and you are more often than not treated differently, but the only people who seem to notice are other people of colour, should you make your only friends other people of colour?

What do you do when other people feel absolutely free to say what they are thinking, but when you say what you are thinking, you are told to 'let things go?'

When is it OK to not take the high road? When is the low road actually a shorter route towards getting where you want to go?

How many times can someone lie to you before you say: No more? Is there a time when lying is permissible?

If you're famous and slightly touched, why are you considered eccentric but if you aren't famous, you're just weird?

How do you meet people if the reality is you don't really like most of them? How do you meet someone who is on par with you, if the people on par with you, you find boring? What's the real reason behind people hooking up with others that are the same race? How do I meet masses of bi-racial people my age, if there aren't masses of people bi-racial people my age? Do I resign myself to being single and alone? Would it be my fault if I were?

If you're insanely curious and smart to boot, how do you learn to be quiet so others won't feel uncomfortably surprised by your obvious talents? What do you do with your mind and hands while you sit there acting dumb? What do you do when it seems hordes of people talk about endless bullshit that you have no idea about? Do you stare at the ceiling? Do you think of the monarchy until it passes? Bite your nails? Pick a nostril?

What do you do if you would like to make yourself more palatable to others, but you know that if you did it would mean a different day but the same old bullshit?

Where in the world are people like me?


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Diane Tose 1942-2020

  In part, Diane’s passing marks the end of an era. The end of a time in history when the work in HIV research was experimental and run by mavericks. Diane was a ‘maverick’ in the truest sense of the word. We all were no matter the discipline we worked in. We were trailblazers. Diane was a complex woman. If you didn’t come to know her she was just a tall British woman who put the fear of God in you. She was pragmatic, demanding, and proudly British, even though she confided in me that she felt much more American than British. Diane liked things just so. An inch either way would be enough for her to voice a strong opinion. Opinionated women can often be alarming, but in Diane I found a heroine. I admired and looked up to Diane. She was no-nonsense. I can remember her calling patients into her office for pelvic examinations with a loudly overheard: Let’s have a look-see, or a get those feet up in the stirrups. I am sure that had she been a man she’d have been reported into oblivion, ...

My Plantation Sown With Sorrow

  I recently found this academic paper while going through things in my home. It is a book review of Dorothy West's novel, The Wedding. It was written sometime between 1994-97 when I was working with the Dean of Empire State College,  James H. Case , who served as my mentor. I do not know how to put footnotes in Blogger so I will be using asterisks with an associated number which can be found at the end of the piece.  Two days ago I closed Dorothy West's book, The Wedding, and fell straight to sleep. I had a dream. I was out shopping but had an appointment with E's therapist later in the day. I was supposed to meet E there.  I called twice to say I would be late and finally arrived when the session was over. When I arrive, E and the therapist are friendly. The therapist tells us of a party we might be interested in going to later that very evening. E and I agree to go. We arrived at the party and I immediately split to go sit with the gay men and begin to yuck it up...

Something Bigger Than Thomas: A Native Son

There was a moment in time when I witnessed my father vulnerable. He had rented a car and parked it outside my apartment in Brooklyn. He was not feeling well and had asked to stay with me and my then boyfriend, Eric. He slept for days on end and I really don't have any recollection of talking to him while he was with us. This is important to this narrative because I have always lamented the fact that I seem to have spent relatively little time with my father. I have snapshot memories of being with him - here and there, here and there. I am a teenager and he drives me into San Francisco, hands me money while he waits in the car, and I go in and buy some shoes. There are the times we drove the few blocks necessary to get to Baskin Robbins for ice cream over on University Avenue a few blocks up from his home in Palo Alto. There were lots of family reunions but I don't have any memories of being alone with my father, having a conversation or discussing anything. He did however ca...