By Arturo R. García
They might be loathe to admit it, but good cheer likely wasn’t the only reason so many people connected to the NBA were so quick to declare Tuesday morning the final chapter in Los Angeles Clippers owner Donald Sterling’s relationship with the league. The problem is, the league’s own mechanics all but ensure that won’t be the case. And that’s just on paper.
By Guest Contributor Megan Red Shirt-Shaw
When I first stepped onto the University of Pennsylvania’s campus, I vowed I would never join a sorority. I had seen the process happen before – girls were made to parade in the streets during rush and at the time, I could think of nothing less mortifying. Yet when my group of girlfriends decided to rush (and I realized I might be friendless for a week), I found myself standing outside during rush in a line of girls wearing a dress in the Philadelphia slush.
I was skeptical throughout. I felt ridiculous coming into every house with a line full of girls waiting to talk to me. The houses were perfectly polished – immaculate, really – and I had the same conversation over fifty times. Where was I from, did I like the punch, I like your shirt, I like your dress, I like your face, on to the next girl. I continued to wonder throughout whether or not I would feel like any of these places were right for me. The thought of peppy girls and peppy events – I couldn’t wrap my head around it. But then I walked into a house called Sigma Kappa.
Friend of the blog Jaymee Goh tipped us off about a special event honoring Latino Science Fiction at the University of California-Riverside on Wednesday.
Held under the auspices of the school’s Science Fiction and Technoculture Studies program, “A Day of Latino Science Fiction” kicks off its program at 10 a.m. with a panel discussion featuring authors:
The program resumes at 2 p.m. with a panel featuring longtime TV director Jesús Treviño (Babylon 5, Star Trek: Voyager & Deep Space Nine) and Michael Sedano from the long-running Latino lit site La Bloga. The event is free to the public, and the flyer is under the cut.
By Arturo R. García
The author’s submission to #IAmComics
If you’ll allow for a moment of first-person writing today, I’m happy and proud to announce that, in addition to being part of the team here at The R, I was asked to be part of We Are Comics, a new campaign created by longtime comics pro editor Rachel Edidin over the weekend to spotlight the fact that comics fandom extends far, far beyond the cis-het white male realm often attached to it.
by Guest Contributor Belleisa, originally published at PostBourgie
There’s a game I like to play when I walk into a bookstore. Based on the the title, cover and store placement I can always interpret the marketing intention for a book meant for a black American audience. The best part of this game is that the books will, typically, fit into the following categories (they are, in no particular order):
1. Black Pathology or “What’s wrong with Black people?”
2. The literature of “sistah gurl”
3. Christian-oriented fiction/inspirational
4. Street-Lit or Hip-Hop fiction
5. The Slave Novel
6. The Civil Rights Book (This also includes Black Nationalism)
7. The extraordinary rise from street life/poverty/welfare into the middle class.
8. Poorly styled celebrity memoir, or well researched and documented hagiography
9. Black Queens and Kings
10. Hip-Hop analysis
12. The “Black” version of some mainstream topic (For example: “Black Girl’s Guide to Fashion; “Black Families’ Guide to Wealth;”) Guides will include slang, bright colors, and inevitably the phrase “the legacy of slavery.”
13. The Classics: Harlem Renaissance 101 and/or The Black Arts Movement. Toni Morrison.
14. Contemporary Classics or Literary Fiction (Mostly woman, mostly diaspora authors)
15. Non-black author writes really compelling story about black person(s); story gets awards accolades, lots of press and movie deal.
These topics produce wonderful books and poorly written books. They often represent a compendium of the black American experience, and just as often, they are simply a reflection of what publishing thinks black people read.
If you are in Brooklyn (or the New York Area) this Friday and Saturday (the 25th and 26th), please come and check out Theorizing the Web! It’s an amazingly geeky conference that discusses the internet and its impact on culture and society – I livetweeted the first one, back in 2011.
I’m keynoting the last panel on “Race and Social Media” and it will be a great time. I’m planning to do a short thing on language and private/public space, and I’ll be on the panel with Lisa Nakamura, Jenna Wortham, Ayesha Siddiqi and André Brock. (Longtime readers may remember I’ve teamed up with Lisa and André many times since Sarah Gatson’s 2009 Race, Ethnicity, and New Media Symposium.)
Long time Racialicious rollers N’jaila Rhee (Blaysian Bytch) and Molly Crabapple will also be in the building being smart. Come say hi to us! One of the things I love about TTW is the small, intimate feel. You can actually talk to people at this conference.
Entrance is cheap – the requested donation is $1 but that’s really just to help cover food and drink:
Hope to see you there!
By Guest Contributor Scot Nakagawa, cross-posted from RaceFiles
It’s time to kill the Asian American model minority myth, and I mean really kill it.
That myth is one of the tenets of American racism, used repeatedly for decades to promote the idea that racism and structural racial disadvantage are either non-existent or at least entirely surmountable, while suggesting that some people of color, and Black people in particular, are just whiners unwilling to pull themselves up by their bootstraps. And that belief, that the black poor are just entitlement junkies, has negative consequences for all poor people because the tough “love” solutions this belief inspires, like cutting back on food stamps and other programs, see no color.
For Asian Americans, killing the myth requires destroying the veil of elevated expectations and assumptions that surround us to reveal the real face of our richly diverse communities and experiences. I call it model minority suicide. Need convincing?