What Race Is Your Dog?

Would it be a bad time to mention that my dog, along with the rest of our family, is mixed?   She’s blonde, but aside from that she fits our family just perfectly. 

Would it be a bad time to mention that my dog, along with the rest of our family, is mixed?   She’s blonde, but aside from that she fits our family just perfectly. 

Great article from Damali Ayo!

He said, “My daughter is getting a place with…(pause) one of her nicest,
(pause) African American friends.” I’m sure he didn’t mention his
daughter’s roommate’s race to everyone. He made a point of telling me
this because I, like the roommate, am black. To cover up for the obvious
“connecting two black people is fun” game, he added how nice this
roommate is, as if this was the most important part of his sentence.

This. A thousand times. If I had even 1RMB for the number of times someone has told me a story completely useless, uninteresting, and unsolicited solely because it involves a black protagonist, I would be filthy rich. I would be sleeping and fucking on a mattress of money, on a four-poster bed of money, in a house constructed entirely of money. I’m completely fed up with having the same interaction, over and over, for the entirety of my life, but unfortunately I think it will continue for the remaining duration of my life (admittedly, it extends beyond this, because I make choices/have been in circumstances that are pretty atypical of most people. For example, I live in Ghana and I’m a woman who rarely wears earrings. The number of conversations I’ve had about the fact that I don’t wear earrings- Why don’t I wear them? But I’m a woman, I’m supposed to wear them. Why do I hate earrings?).

Huge digression, but seriously, what am I supposed to do with that information? Give you a medal for thinking something mildly benevolent another black person? Do cartwheels over the fact that you have a black friend who eats a lot and doesn’t gain a pound? Weep for joy over the fact that you had a black roommate one semester? Seriously, what?

Great article from Damali Ayo!

He said, “My daughter is getting a place with…(pause) one of her nicest,
(pause) African American friends.” I’m sure he didn’t mention his
daughter’s roommate’s race to everyone. He made a point of telling me
this because I, like the roommate, am black. To cover up for the obvious
“connecting two black people is fun” game, he added how nice this
roommate is, as if this was the most important part of his sentence.

This. A thousand times. If I had even 1RMB for the number of times someone has told me a story completely useless, uninteresting, and unsolicited solely because it involves a black protagonist, I would be filthy rich. I would be sleeping and fucking on a mattress of money, on a four-poster bed of money, in a house constructed entirely of money. I’m completely fed up with having the same interaction, over and over, for the entirety of my life, but unfortunately I think it will continue for the remaining duration of my life (admittedly, it extends beyond this, because I make choices/have been in circumstances that are pretty atypical of most people. For example, I live in Ghana and I’m a woman who rarely wears earrings. The number of conversations I’ve had about the fact that I don’t wear earrings- Why don’t I wear them? But I’m a woman, I’m supposed to wear them. Why do I hate earrings?).

Huge digression, but seriously, what am I supposed to do with that information? Give you a medal for thinking something mildly benevolent another black person? Do cartwheels over the fact that you have a black friend who eats a lot and doesn’t gain a pound? Weep for joy over the fact that you had a black roommate one semester? Seriously, what?

My dog, Sheba, and cat ,Biscuit, may they both rest in peace, were African American.   

FWIW, the word for breed and race in Dutch is ‘ras’.

In France, we unfortunately use the same word “race” for breed and ethnicity. However, the race comes in the spotlight mostly in the places where there is a important melting pot of ethnicity, like Paris, suburbs and big cities. Race identification happens mostly as a culture shock process. In the french islands, where there’s more blacks, and low discrimination against them, you feel less like a “racial punching ball” and more like a human being. Well, Internet and immigration policies are changing this so we’ll see how much it’s going to change in the future.

As I discovered when I studied in Mexico, the word “race” when applied to animals has deep social connotations for human relationships. The street dogs in the Yucatan peninsula are called Malix Pek, a Mayan word that means “a dog without pedigree”. I was told when I lived there that ‘Malix Pek’ is also a racial slur used against Mayans, who are heavily discriminated against. I’m currently a graduate student studying the relationship between humans and animals and have found that we racialize lots of non-humans, particularly breeds of dogs. Pit bulls, for example, are often described in the media using language that smacks of prejudice and racism, and quite often, banning a certain breed of dog in a city seems to be based in other, human-based prejudice. I’ve written a few articles about it here

http://stubbydog.org/2011/08/stepford-wives-and-gargoyle-pits/ 

This is a great discussion.  And you’re right on the money. As a pit bull’s person, I’ve become aware that people are less adept (which is to say, less practiced) at covering their prejudices when talking about dogs. “She’s a pit bull?  But she seems so nice.”   That said, the author gives some pretty good examples of people failing to cover their awkwardness in talking with and about other people.

An experience of mine which you may enjoy reading ….

On the night of September 27th, my two friends, service animal, and I arrived at the hotel Marriot A… United Airlines offered us a comlimentary hotel stay as partial compensation for a uncomfortable flight experience, and I had chosen to stay at Marriot, a regular favorite of my family’s.Our check in process went well, and we were given adjoining rooms, one wheelchair accessible for myself and my service animal, the next for my two friends. That evening we four dined in the restaurant, and I took my service animal for an evening walk.The next morning I woke to a frantic tapping on my window. One of my friends, Z, was outside with my service dog, and looked panic stricken. She gestured to meet her at the front entrance. When my other friend, M, escorted her to our rooms, Z burst into tears. It seems that when she took my service dog out for a morning walk, she encountered a nightmare.  She checked at the front desk which door led to the lake, and with service dog in hand, she proceeded outside. After taking a leisurly stroll around the lake, she returned via the main entrance. Before even fully entering the building, a woman came running out to meet her at the interior door. This woman, a front desk employee, berated my friend. Before even asking if she was a guest, or if this dog was protected by federal law, she told her that dogs were not allowed, and literally screamed at my friend in front of three people that she must “get out”. Needless to say my friend and dog turned and fled.My friend is petite, dark haired, and has a severe panic disorder for which she has recently been hospitalized. Before she could reach my window for help, she found herself being persued by a burly security officer.  That officer asked my friend to come with him. Z explained that this was a service dog, and that we were guests. The officer was incredulous. He asked if the service dog’s license was given to the front desk, and for her room number. My friend answered as best she could, explaining that we had the dog with us from the time we checked in, and giving her room number. After some time and many questions, the security officer finally let my friend go. Thoroughly shaken, she then made it to my window to tap for help.After hearing my friend’s story, I dressed and prepared to speak with those involved. I heard a knock on the door of the room next door, and came from my room to see. Here I met the security officer, who, upon seeing me in my wheelchair, said “Oh! It’s your service dog.” After writing down my phone number from my service dog’s tag, he thanked me and left.After a light breakfast, I headed to the front desk.  There I requested the hotel manager. The manager had just come on duty, and was limply apologetic. The security guard came to join us, and said that he had seen my service animal on the cameras, and he made several assumptions: one, that my lab mix was  a pit bull, two, that my service dog handled by my  petite, dark haired and tan skinned friend, was a dog used for dog fights.He also stated that my friend gave him the “wrong” room number, which was in fact the number for her room, not mine. He repeatedly asked why the front desk didn’t have a note about the presence of my service animal, as if I were responsible for enforcing a hotel policy. The manager offered no formal apology, no strategy for keeping her future disabled guests from being assaulted in such a manner, and did not offer me her card.My concerns are serveral. One, your staff training appears negligent at best. They clearly do not know that the work of service animals is protected by federal and applicable state laws. They were not aware that service animal licensing varies by state, and that guests from other parts of the US or abroad may present varying forms of identification for their service animal. They were not aware that service dogs are required to have “off duty” time, in which a vest or harness may or not be worn. They were not aware that a service animal may accompany a person with an invisible disability, such as a seizure disorder.Two, I’m quite positive that my friend and dog were ethnically profiled. Were my lab mix handled on your grounds by a tall, athletic caucasian man, I am quite certain that she would not have been presumed a “fighting dog” as your security officer stated. Conversely, if my dark haired and olive skinned friend had been handling a collie, I doubt she would have been chased around your yard…….