My Turn
November, 1991
GAY PEOPLE'S CHRONICLE
Page 11
Each month this column will be written by a person of color, for people of color. This column is not intended to be a place of education for those outside of the people of color community. If you would like to write for this space, please call Kimberly Taylor at 621-5280.
by Kimberly Taylor
A lot of thought, time and debate went into creation of this column, so I thought it would be appropriate that its debut be made by a person of color who also works for the paper.
It is my hope that this column will continue to teach the lesson the nation spent much of October learning through the Hill-Thomas case: That putting a label on a group, such as people of color, does not automatically make them many bodies with one mind.
We have different needs, agendas, histories and views of oppression, not only within our various subgroups, but among individuals.
The mainstream media believes the only debate is over sexual harrassment. However, I think the fact that most of the characters involved in that sordid script were blacks with such disparate views and backgrounds
Madison Square
continued from pg. 10 company's name is heard.
As for print the placement and size of the ad are important. Agencies set up budgets quarterly and yearly, based largely on ratings. In the ratings game usually the best gets the most.
If you ask advertisers why they would want to be associated with a group of bashing ignoramuses, they will tell you it is a matter of dollars and cents (though not sense). I was not aware that every owner of a Chrysler vehicle that lives in Northeast Ohio, listens to WMJI. There are other consumers of the 25 54 age category that listen to other radio stations, or possibly don't even listen to the radio, due to poor programing in the
·
will stir conversations in black and white households alike. And those conversations may begin to strip away certain stereotypes.
Yes, there are black conservatives. Yes, blacks come from walks of life so different that we truly can't say there is one, cohesive "black way", and black women, to the contrary of being sexual perpetual motion machines, can be deeply wounded and offended by the same insults that offend others.
Finally, and this is the one piece that many senators did not get, those proceedings showed how difficult it is for blacks and other minorities, in the face of overwhelming oppression and misunderstanding, to criticize one another.
Especially when the object of that criticism is supposed to be a standard bearer.
I want to talk about some of those things that I have found hard to voice, to show what some may call my ignorance, but I prefer to consider, in light of the fact that I am willing to face myself and learn, my humanity.
When Sistahparty formed, I understood intellectually the term "people of color" and the need for coalition. As a black lesbian, I believed it was my struggle that needed to come first, and so wasn't open
Cleveland market.
My point is, if the companies listed above are capable of cutting back spending dollars in advertising at WMJI, based solely upon Arbitron ratings, then why wouldn't it be possible to get these agencies to cut back spending at WMJI based on the garbage that is put on the airwaves.
It is irresponsible and pathetic that these disittle whole classes of people. And advertisers should be made to understand that.afraid to come out and accept who they are.your own. By the way, I would like to know if a certain radio disc jockeys' son has gotten his act together and into rehab? Hey, three stooges fix your own lives, instead of harassing others, try to be human, you are not here to judge people, but to live and let live without all this static. ▼
emotionally to a multicultural agenda. I had been raised in a society that saw in terms of black and white, with anything else being peripheral.
I consider myself black, rather than African-American for very personal and political reasons that would take another column to explain. I do respect the reasons that others prefer to be called AfricanAmerican.
Then I went to the Michigan Womyn's Music Festival for the first time. There, in the women of color tent I had my eyes opened to the many wonders of diversity. Myths and stereotypes I didn't even realize I had were exploded.
For that I would like to thank the marvelous butches of Sawego Takeo drummers, the Native American woman with the beautiful and mysterious smile and the woman who put the flyer on the bulletin board reminding her sisters that Armenians too are women of color I didn't know; I had never thought about it.
Sometimes it takes more than intellectual argument to make a person see the value of looking outside of their proscribed world. I came home excited to know more about the concept of multicultural agendas and the need for people of color coalition.
Does that sound a little too ugly American? Well, that's what ignorance is about. Oppression does not necessarily make a person more sensitive to anything except the pain it inflicts. The question is: Can you acknowledge ignorance and then go beyond it?
Everything I learned at the women of color tent was not positive, however. I found myself facing issues that were painful even to acknowledge.
Often in the women of color tent the Hispanic women spoke nothing but Spanish. There is a warm feeling that comes with knowing you and others are in a place where it is safe to be yourself.
Sometimes I felt lonely, and guilty because part of me wanted them to give up their need to communicate among themselves in order to make me feel comfortable. Other times, I felt angry.
When the only words in English I heard one woman utter were, "What kind of name is Lila for a Japanese?" it was hard not to
feel justified in not wanting to honor her needs.
me.
We are not perfect people not her, not
Far more painful than reflecting on one's own lack of cultural understanding is facing a need to criticize one's own people.
I felt that pain at the women of color tent. During the tent dedication, the marvelous drummer, Edwina Lee Tyler began to work her magic. Soon, others were picking up shakerees and sticks, and dancing. A woman from Japan picked up her sax and wove a gentle, entrancing melody through the percussion.
Edwina Lee Tyler made her stop.
It was an African song of welcome, she said. No modern instruments would be allowed. Later you can play with us.
I was so embarrassed, and angry. No one had said there was a set program other than to bring your offerings and your music. No one had explained that some music was more acceptable than others. Who was this us anyway in the women of color tent?
The woman stopped playing. There was no later for her to play with the drummers because she didn't stay for the rest of the ceremony. She didn't act as though she were angry, just hurt and unwelcome.
I don't know anything about this African song of welcome, but it seemed to me that it was probably written by men to be played by men. Why can't women in their own space adapt to build their own traditions? If that means altering historic cultural mores and rites to fit women's needs, then so be it.
I was taught to honor the elders and leaders in the black community, so I swallowed my anger there. I'm not even sure I should be voicing it now. My upbringing tells me I should not give the oppressors ammunition or appear to be divided from the whole.
That woman should have been allowed to bring her singular, beautiful offering to the feast in an atmosphere of warmth among her sisters. We all lost something because we did not reach to bridge that gap among ourselves.
So, this is our space, to agree or disagree or even to ignore what was said and move on. I look forward to hearing from all of my brothers and sisters.▼
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