You’re Still Wrong
Mykel’s Post MRR column
December 2018
or
CULTURAL APPROPRIATION
December 2018
or
CULTURAL APPROPRIATION
It’s
hard to believe… I can’t believe it myself… but I type this at
a tiny table in Mumbai, India… inside a… I can hardly type this…
inside a… this is pain! Inside a Starbucks!
I
hate the coffee. I hate the company. I hate the atmosphere… the
customers. But it’s 97o
outside. I’ve been sitting... standing... walking... in the sun
since 10:30AM… it’s now 2:11PM. I asked Google for the nearest
coffee shop with AC
and it gave me three or four within a couple miles… none of which
responded to a tap of the DIRECTIONS button. The only name I could
remember was STARBUCKS… so I plugged it into Google Maps and voila!
Here I am… guilty and unpleasant for being here. But here just the
same.
Starbucks
prices in India are the same as in New York. 200+ rupees for an Ice
Coffee Medium… I refuse to say
Grande
or
Tall or
whatever the fuck they call it. 200
rupees is about
$3... big
money for the local snake charmers.
The baristas
served it to me In a cup with my name... “Michle...” written on
the outside.
There
are mostly brown-skinned people here, but enough palefaces to make me
feel totally creeped out. Few things can be as horrible as drinking
coffee at a Starbucks in an Asian country where other white people
also sit and drink. It’s embarassing...
like a fart in an elevator.
I’ve
been in India almost 2 weeks now. Except for the weather, lack of
toilets, and spotty internet, it’s been pretty good to me. (You can
read my adventures at: https://mykelsdiary.blogspot.com.)
One of the reasons I came to the country is I love Indian food in New
York and I want to see how the real thing compares. I won’t find
the answer in Starbucks.
Also,
I know Indian food, but I don’t know Indian punkrock. I’ve been
waiting 40 years for an Indian band The
Vindalosers
to show up at CBGBs. It’s not gonna happen, I fear… for two
reasons.
1. CBGBs is gone…. at least the punk
rock club by that name is gone.
2. As far as I know (or any of my punk
pals in India know) there never was an Indian band called The
Vindalosers.
It’s yours for the taking. Feel free
to appropriate it and use it as you like. You don’t even have to
give me credit…. And that is what I want to talk about this month…
FLASH TO a long shot of a dusty
prairie... roaming cattle… a single dilapidated building… maybe a
bar. Johnny Cash sings off camera as a lone horse and cowboy enter
from screen left… galloping across... a dustcloud forming
alongside… then fading behind them.
Slowly
pan in… follow the horse over the plains closing in behind… until
we have a view of the tail and… from behind… a man in bluejeans,
flannel shirt… and cowboy hat… sitting on the horse… The dust
kicked up behind the animal slowly fades… hoofbeats change from
galloping thuds to clop... clop... clop.
Pan out again. The horse is on a street… some suburban town… a middle class American town… white fences… rose gardens… suburban houses with a few faded, tattered, Hillary Clinton for President signs stuck in a few well-mowed front lawns.
Pan out again. The horse is on a street… some suburban town… a middle class American town… white fences… rose gardens… suburban houses with a few faded, tattered, Hillary Clinton for President signs stuck in a few well-mowed front lawns.
As
our cowboy rides down the street, two people come running from one of
the houses. They wear black hoodies with a black scarves…
burqa-like.… covering their faces. They
shout at the passing cowboy. We hear the shouts over the hoofbeats.
“Fuck you! You fascist pig!”
“You think you’re a cowboy! You
mock the Native American killers? You’re fetishizing the old west…
The genocide of native people. You’re appropriating their culture
and turning it against them!”
The pair picks up some rocks… some
garbage… some things to throw… and throw they do…. the horse
and rider gallop off toward a shopping mall.
“You’re culturally appropriating!”
They scream…. and that brings me directly to the topic.
APPROPRIATION
First,
let’s get the terms right.
There
are two types of appropriation
in the cultural sense. One is like the flu. If someone gets the flu
from you… you still have it. The amount of flu is not fixed, but
can be passed from waitress to bank president… with neither losing
it as they give it away. This kind of appropriation takes from other
cultures-- or takes from other languages-- but doesn’t TAKE IT
AWAY.
When
Burger King offered its “breakfast bagel” in New York, customers
had their choice of ham, bacon or sausage. The chain appropriated a
quintessentially Jewish food and made it as goy as you can get. In
New York people objected… complained. Well, of course.
The
offer didn’t last long in New York. But I hear it continues today
in the South. I still have my bagels with lox and a shmear. Burger
King did not take that away from me.
FLASH
TO SCHOOL (I teach English
to Japanese students) Ari shows up with a single thin chain around
her neck. Dangling from the chain is a small rhinestone-studded
cross.
“Oh,”
I ask, “are you Catholic or some other kind?”
She
frowns.
“Your
necklace,” I say, pointing to the cross.
“Oh
that,” she says, laughing, “I’m not Christian. I just like the
design.”
My
pal Sara told me she saw a Japanese student wearing Mogen
David star earrings. She asked what synagogue she went to.
The
answer, of course, was “What’s a synagogue?”
My
mogen-david Matzoh cover loses nothing because of her earrings.
Now,
take Halloween… please!
Happily,
this year I was in India for that
horrible holiday. Few people
celebrate it here. Next to Christmas and the related Santacon…
Halloween is my least favorite holiday. It’s gotten worse… more
restrictive… because of charges of Cultural
Appropriation.
I’m
a Navajo,
not your Halloween costume.
Pagans are not witches.
Blackface is racist.
Pagans are not witches.
Blackface is racist.
The X-men of cultural purity don’t
get that if I wear a loin cloth and feathers, it does not damage
Chief Waterwiggle’s ability to sit down with his tribe of REAL
Indians and smoke a peacepipe any more than Burger King’s bagels
damaged my ability to enjoy lox and cream cheese.
What’s
left for Halloween?
Vampires?, Superheroes? Bad parodies of Donald Trump? Glad I missed
it.
In
Oregon, two women who traveled extensively in Mexico… discovered a
special way of making tacos… one
never seen in the U.S.
They learn the recipe and cooking method from the locals, They open
a restaurant based on their culinary discovery. What happens?
You guessed it!
CULTURAL APPROPRIATION screamed the
Twitter Twits… The owners STOLE the recipe from some poor Mexicans.
Hegemony! Imperialism! The restaurant soon closed.
I’ll try to put it
another way, Culture is not a car. If I steal your car, you don’t
have it anymore… It’s not there for your use. If I copy your
burrito, you can still make another using the same recipe.
But there IS a kind of appropriation
similar to car stealing.
When
homosexuals became Gay
sometime in the 1970s, “Gay” still carried the meaning of happy,
carefree, light-hearted.
I never liked the term as a sexual one. And most of the homos I knew
(and most that I know now) are as far from being GAY (in the original
meaning) as a crowbar is from being a crow.
“Look
at that guy, I wonder if he’s gay.” only has one meaning now…
no matter how happy and carefree he is. The word is lost… stolen…
taken away. And probably will never be returned. In 2018, you cannot
have a gay old time
without
exchanging bodily fluids.
Then
there’s anti-semite.
A Semite is a person of Middle
Eastern
origin. Hebrew, Arabic and Aramaic (the language of Jesus… if you
believe) are Semitic languages. Moroccans are Semites. Tunisians are
Semites. Sephardic Jews are Semites. My Ukrainian grandfather was NOT
a Semite.
But
what happened? Somehow anti-Semitic
came
to mean anti-Jewish. All those other Semites were pushed aside.
Jews-- whether Semitic or not-- took over the word and pushed aside
its original meaning. In 2018 Palestinians can be “anti-Semitic,”
and Jewish advocates for the Palestinian holocaust… well they’re
just… er… something else.
FLASH
TO NOW: I continue this
blog in Delhi Airport… terminal 3. My flight for New York is set to
leave in 13 hours. I can’t find an electrical socket, so my only
choice is to write until the battery conks out. Around me are
Indian-looking guys with tags around their necks. I guess they work
at the airport. Across from me, a business-suited guy fiddles with his iPhone,
stopping once or twice to adjust his black turban.
I
clear my throat, trying to avoid the hacking cough that comes from 2
weeks in the most air-polluted section of the most air-polluted city
in India… and I was staying with a chain smoker. My weak lung (the
left one) wheezes on the inhale… coughs on the exhale. So much can
happen between one paragraph and the next. Watch this:
Bang!
I’ve returned to New York for
a few days, then left by bus for a visit to relatives in South Carolina, I
am now seated next to the bus toilet... the stink roughing up my
still-frail
lung…I chain suck one Fisherman’s
Friend
after the other. Any break makes a coughing fit loud enough to wake
the neighbors.
This bus feels like India. I’m the
only white guy… the way I like it. I know I’ll be jinxing it to
write this… but although I’m overwhelmed with the smell of piss…
there are no screaming babies.
I love the U.S. Southeast… except
for the politics. The weather is usually nice. People are friendly.
Best barbecue in America. Maybe I’ll stop in to Burger King for ham
and cheese… on a bagel.
ENDNOTES:
[You can contact me on facebook
or by email at god@mykelboard.com.
Through the post office: send those... er... private DVDs..or music
or zines... or anything else (legal only!) to: Mykel Board, POB 137,
New York, NY 10012-0003. If you like my writing, you can be notified
when anything new is available. Subscribe to the MYKEL'S READERS
Yahoo group readmboard-subscribe@yahoogroups.com]
-→INKED
Dept: If
you need another reason (other than the risk of God’s wrath) NOT to
get a tattoo, the Electronic
Frontier Foundation
reports
that agencies of the US government are working on a tattoo database.
It both matches tattoos with the wearer and tries to figure out the
political and ideological positions of various tattoo holders.
Originally they used images from police files only, but have recently
branched out to include Flickr… and, I bet, that’s only the
beginning. Watch that Instagram of your latest. The FBI is watching it right now.
Cultural
Appropriation by People in That Culture dept: People
Magazine,
of all places, reports that model superstar Gigi Hadid (mother:
Dutch, father: Palestinian) has been criticized for wearing a hajib
in
her picture on the debut cover of Vogue
Arabia.
Her critics say she has culturally appropriated the traditional
Muslim scarf. Of course, since she is ½ Palestinian-- and a Muslim…
it’s HER tradition! -- Maybe she should have worn have a burqa.
-------------------------
LINK
TRADE DEPARTMENT:
I
read that the search engines like lots of links... and it's also nice
to support my friends and enemies in their blogs. So facebook
me or email
me
if you have a blog, webpage or something else to connect to. I add
you. You add me.
Here's
a start:
- David Goldberg's Busy Microbes Blog
- And another Goldberg: goldberg.wordpress.com
- I post a blog for Kyle Nonnemon, in prison for a ton of shit. He's a smart guy, with a passion for industrial metal and a general detestation of humankind. You can read his blog at:apothelema.blogspot.com
- Poetry and humor fans will like Justin Martin in The Latency
- And my friend Mike R has a nice site with recipe hits from the past! (He cooked for me once... great stuff.) Check out Yesterday's Recipes.
- Savage Hippie is a guy who has been YouTubing for a long time. Our opinions largely overlap... but he complains that I'm a Communist. I'm not! I'm a communist.
- Chris Stecher publishes a zine called PRECIS. You can see the back issue links there... and he promises a new issue soon.
- And my long-term pal Sid Yiddish contributes with his Mishegas Master Blog.
CONTACT REDUX: You can contact me on facebook or by email atgod@mykelboard.com. Through the post office: send those... er... private DVDs..or music or zines... or anything else (legal only!) to: Mykel Board, POB 137, New York, NY 10012-0003. If you like my writing, you can be notified when anything new is available. Subscribe to the MYKEL'S READERS Yahoo group readmboard-subscribe@yahoogroups.com.