11:31 pm, according to Japanese clocks. As Americans start their grind, my gears are starting to ache and beg for oil. Having sated them with oil , this machine is now freezing in a tiny, Western-style apartment. While the organs are metallic and rusting and shutting down and the logic is beginning to break down into chaos , the heart is strangely different… it bleeds.
Hands
If you know me well, you do not need to be reminded of my ridiculous avoidance of asking people for things. There are more fingers on my hands than people I can call and ask for a favor. It is hard for me to call people when I am in their vicinity because I don’t want to disrupt their day or interrupt the wonderful and interesting lives I imagine everyone else to lead. Even worse, those seven people (approx) soon become overburdened by my requests and three months later I have overstayed my welcome.
The problem is, obviously I am fully aware of this, is that I do not give them a chance to make the choice, the chance to say no. I would rather not ask than to hear no. My life has been shaped by avoiding the questions I need to ask. People think moving to Japan is brave. I think asking someone out on a date is brave. By someone, I do not mean a random stranger in a bar, but someone who you can feel will change your life forever if you just jump off that bridge of hesitation.
See, you only see a child who was denied a fishing trip, but I see a man in the glass that no longer uses ink to schedule appointments. It saves me from dealing with disappointments and buying White-Out… and I honestly think I’ll be okay if I never learn how to gut a fish.
27 March, 2009
07 March, 2009
A Thousand Tiny Little Explosions of Death in My Mouth: My Memoir
Greetings family, friends, and fans alike.
It's been far too long and I can explain. Like the over-used phrase I keep hearing in American news, my work honeymoon is officially over. I am getting e-mails every day from Head Office about all of the responsibilities I have to fulfill that I didn't quite know about or fully understand. I do not have a problem whatsoever including these duties into my routine, because I accept it's all part of the job. However, if you know me well, you know I get frustrated when I do not have control over my time or when I don't know something that everyone else does. I never want to be the last horse to cross the finish line, you know. That means I've been bringing work home with me, staying up until 4 or 5 trying to make sense of everything only to get more work to do the next day. Everyone assures me that this is normal and I will eventually learn to juggle everything. But I want to be able to do it all now. Don't worry, peanuts, chocolate and beer have been keeping me composed.
Anyway, while I am loving my time here- which has been a month for those of us counting- I am slowly composing a list of things I hate and at the top are: shaving every day (my face and my neck especially are not coping well either) and this sushi roll I had today that was basically a ton of large orange fish eggs. I've had a few of the eggs before atop other rolls and didn't mind the taste, but I never had so many as I had in this one piece for lunch. The look of revulsion on my face almost scared my friend and fellow teacher Sarah, who thought I was physically hurt. The best way I could describe what I felt was having "a thousand tiny little explosions of death in my mouth." I decided if I write a book someday, that would be a possible title.
I am working on my travel plans, since next month, starting April 28, I will have an entire week to travel. I haven't decided yet on the specifics, but I am pretty sure I'll be working Korea into that week. I really want to go to Angkor Wat in Cambodia, where ils parlent français et anglais aussi, or India. China can wait. Australia and New Zealand need to happen at some point as well, though I think that will have to wait for Kristin's visit in November so we can both visit Mr. Monk in NZ. And I still have to plan my first trip to Toyko! I am very excited about shopping in Shinjuku and Harajuku. Maybe the clothes there will fit me!
Things are good, though. Nothing cool and cultural to report as of yet. Once I start doing more than teaching, I promise the updates will happen more regularly. For now, just note that Japan is pretty much everything I expected it to be, which is fantastic.
Except the fruit. Can someone please tell me who would pay the equivalent of $50 for a honeydew melon? Yes: Honeydew = $50!
4,980 JPY = 50.60 USD as of 3/6/2009
Peace out.
Sayonara.
It's been far too long and I can explain. Like the over-used phrase I keep hearing in American news, my work honeymoon is officially over. I am getting e-mails every day from Head Office about all of the responsibilities I have to fulfill that I didn't quite know about or fully understand. I do not have a problem whatsoever including these duties into my routine, because I accept it's all part of the job. However, if you know me well, you know I get frustrated when I do not have control over my time or when I don't know something that everyone else does. I never want to be the last horse to cross the finish line, you know. That means I've been bringing work home with me, staying up until 4 or 5 trying to make sense of everything only to get more work to do the next day. Everyone assures me that this is normal and I will eventually learn to juggle everything. But I want to be able to do it all now. Don't worry, peanuts, chocolate and beer have been keeping me composed.
Anyway, while I am loving my time here- which has been a month for those of us counting- I am slowly composing a list of things I hate and at the top are: shaving every day (my face and my neck especially are not coping well either) and this sushi roll I had today that was basically a ton of large orange fish eggs. I've had a few of the eggs before atop other rolls and didn't mind the taste, but I never had so many as I had in this one piece for lunch. The look of revulsion on my face almost scared my friend and fellow teacher Sarah, who thought I was physically hurt. The best way I could describe what I felt was having "a thousand tiny little explosions of death in my mouth." I decided if I write a book someday, that would be a possible title.
I am working on my travel plans, since next month, starting April 28, I will have an entire week to travel. I haven't decided yet on the specifics, but I am pretty sure I'll be working Korea into that week. I really want to go to Angkor Wat in Cambodia, where ils parlent français et anglais aussi, or India. China can wait. Australia and New Zealand need to happen at some point as well, though I think that will have to wait for Kristin's visit in November so we can both visit Mr. Monk in NZ. And I still have to plan my first trip to Toyko! I am very excited about shopping in Shinjuku and Harajuku. Maybe the clothes there will fit me!
Things are good, though. Nothing cool and cultural to report as of yet. Once I start doing more than teaching, I promise the updates will happen more regularly. For now, just note that Japan is pretty much everything I expected it to be, which is fantastic.
Except the fruit. Can someone please tell me who would pay the equivalent of $50 for a honeydew melon? Yes: Honeydew = $50!
4,980 JPY = 50.60 USD as of 3/6/2009
Peace out.
Sayonara.
16 February, 2009
Love in the Windy City
Hello everyone, time for my weekly update.
This concludes my first week teaching without the (constant) assistance of my substitute teacher, Kashima, who I miss and needs to add me on facebook yesterday. However, she did leave a trail of post-it notes that have saved me on many occasions. She is great.
And in her place, I have Sarah and Ai keeping me sane and on top of things. They are flipping awesome people and I cannot thank them enough.
So at the end of last week, I was pretty frustrated because I felt as if I was dangling over a fire that no one told me would be hot. And like that woman who sued McDonald's for her coffee being hot, I should've known that teaching would not be easy the first week. Hell, I could barely remember names the first week, let alone lesson plans. But at some point on Thursday, it started to click. I stopped trying to follow the prescribed teaching manuals and started using my own ingenuity. And this week, teaching was actually starting to become fun. So today, although it was a long day, was punctuated with some great moments.
For Valentine's Day, I decided to buy candy for all of my students, the other teachers, and the manager. After wrapping it all up last night, I went to school holding a bag full of goods for the wolves. My first student, I was warned, was a terror. I was prepared for the worst.
During the lesson I noticed he drew on everything I gave him. If 1+1=2, don't give him something I didn't want him to draw on. Right? Instead of giving him the cards with the pictures on them, I let him draw the animals we studied today on the board. And he actually is quite the little artist. So now I know what to do to keep him on my side. The class after that was with one of my favourite students, Hiroe. Today we talked about heroes. Not the show mind you, but personal heroes and heroines, not the drugs mind you. She told me about her husband and I talked about my parents and we had fun getting to know each other even better. Last night I found out another student is engaged, so all of the grammar we studied related to weddings. The more I get to know them, the better I can tailor the lessons I plan to keep them wanting to come to class.
At 4, I had a lesson I wasn't quite prepared for, so I ran to the dollar store (100 yen store) and bought paint pens and construction paper and we made stuffed Valentine's hearts to give to their parents as a warm-up activity. I did this activity with my other under 18 year old students and we all had fun, before we moved on to the lesson of course. I ended up making about 4 hearts by the end of the night, two I have posted as pictures if you are interested.
So that was my VDay. What did you do?
Finally, I have to admit something: I have a small obsession with Japanese toilets. I know that sounds silly, but they fascinate me. The one in my apartment makes me smile every time I flush the toilet and the lid in the toilet becomes a sink. So cool!
But the one I was warned about I call the squatter. I've attached a picture so you can see what all the fuss is about. Now in this particular restroom there are standard toilets (with electronically-controlled bidets), but this one in the corner makes me fearful for that one day I have no choice but to "pop a squat" to quote my 6th grade teacher Angela Thomas.
Sayonara.
Wendell
This concludes my first week teaching without the (constant) assistance of my substitute teacher, Kashima, who I miss and needs to add me on facebook yesterday. However, she did leave a trail of post-it notes that have saved me on many occasions. She is great.
And in her place, I have Sarah and Ai keeping me sane and on top of things. They are flipping awesome people and I cannot thank them enough.
So at the end of last week, I was pretty frustrated because I felt as if I was dangling over a fire that no one told me would be hot. And like that woman who sued McDonald's for her coffee being hot, I should've known that teaching would not be easy the first week. Hell, I could barely remember names the first week, let alone lesson plans. But at some point on Thursday, it started to click. I stopped trying to follow the prescribed teaching manuals and started using my own ingenuity. And this week, teaching was actually starting to become fun. So today, although it was a long day, was punctuated with some great moments.
For Valentine's Day, I decided to buy candy for all of my students, the other teachers, and the manager. After wrapping it all up last night, I went to school holding a bag full of goods for the wolves. My first student, I was warned, was a terror. I was prepared for the worst.
During the lesson I noticed he drew on everything I gave him. If 1+1=2, don't give him something I didn't want him to draw on. Right? Instead of giving him the cards with the pictures on them, I let him draw the animals we studied today on the board. And he actually is quite the little artist. So now I know what to do to keep him on my side. The class after that was with one of my favourite students, Hiroe. Today we talked about heroes. Not the show mind you, but personal heroes and heroines, not the drugs mind you. She told me about her husband and I talked about my parents and we had fun getting to know each other even better. Last night I found out another student is engaged, so all of the grammar we studied related to weddings. The more I get to know them, the better I can tailor the lessons I plan to keep them wanting to come to class.
At 4, I had a lesson I wasn't quite prepared for, so I ran to the dollar store (100 yen store) and bought paint pens and construction paper and we made stuffed Valentine's hearts to give to their parents as a warm-up activity. I did this activity with my other under 18 year old students and we all had fun, before we moved on to the lesson of course. I ended up making about 4 hearts by the end of the night, two I have posted as pictures if you are interested.
So that was my VDay. What did you do?
Finally, I have to admit something: I have a small obsession with Japanese toilets. I know that sounds silly, but they fascinate me. The one in my apartment makes me smile every time I flush the toilet and the lid in the toilet becomes a sink. So cool!
But the one I was warned about I call the squatter. I've attached a picture so you can see what all the fuss is about. Now in this particular restroom there are standard toilets (with electronically-controlled bidets), but this one in the corner makes me fearful for that one day I have no choice but to "pop a squat" to quote my 6th grade teacher Angela Thomas.
Sayonara.
Wendell
06 February, 2009
Stuff about stuff, and stuff like that.
Ohayo gozaimasu.
This is day three of my contract here in Japan and the day could not be any prettier. I am in Hamamatsu, finally, after concluding a two-day training session in Nagoya, about 40 minutes north by shinkansen. Shinkansen is the fastest line of railroad networks in the world. The trains are called nozomi, but you’ve probably heard of them as “bullet trains.” I really wanted to take pictures from the train, but I wasn’t in the mood to be touristy.
Okay, let me recap my first few days in Japan. While it still hasn’t hit me in a profound way, I am consciously aware that I am in Japan, and that I really am taller than 80% of the population. In Nagoya, it wasn’t such a big deal for an American and an Englishman (my trainer Bruce) to walk around speaking English. But last night I finally moved to my apartment in Hamamatsu, and the kids were not shy about staring at us. It must have been a strange sight to see three Americans, two of them black, and a Scotsman pushing a shopping cart to the train station (long story) but it was cool feeling like a local celebrity. Hamamatsu has nothing on Nagoya when it comes to size. Nagoya is a huge city, fourth largest in Japan I believe, and the architecture is ridiculous. I will get more pictures later when I go back up to see a Kabuki performance so stay tuned. However, the downtown part of Hamamatsu, which is a few minutes away from my school by bus or train, is also very pleasing to the eye. Again, this will have to be a verbal post as I just moved here late last night.
Japan is the most efficient country in the world. This may not be a complete fact, but from what I’ve seen I am very impressed. First of all, many things in the public sector (malls, hotels, grocery stores) are done by motion detection sensors. Why is this ecologically sound? Think about how much air is wasted by doors being left open; how much water we waste flushing toilets and leaving water in the sink running. I posted one picture of a Japanese sink with the soap dispenser, the water, and the hand dryer all in the bowl of the sink. The toilet in my bathroom, well toilet-room since it is separate, has a small sink on the lid of the toilet. When I flush, water flows from the sink, to let me wash my hands, to the toilet bowl and it fills up for the next use. That combines two functions into one saving so many liters of water. Not to mention, there’s a little air freshener that is activated by the running water. You cannot get any more efficient than that.
One question/comment I get a lot is about my weight management and diet. While I have run across one very disgusting dinner, from a vending machine mind you, almost everything I’ve eaten here was delightful. For example, I had what is called Okonomiyaki. The literal translation of this dish is “cook whatever you like.” Basically, it is a batter made up of Japanese yams, cabbage, flour, water, and whatever regional ingredients. You pick your filling (I chose ika, which is squid for those you who don’t get the ika fries from Tsunami) and it is fried right in front of you. It is best described as an omelet, but not by appearance. It was astounding.
Things I don’t like: I don’t like having to pay bills back in America, specifically my phone bill. I cannot use the damn thing at all, except as a $55 a month alarm clock. Ay. However, I am in love with my new apartment. There is so much opportunity to turn this place into “the” hangout. I have a small loft which is so much more spacious than I thought. It will house a hookah lounge, if you will. Of course most of this won’t happen until my first paycheck, but it will be flipping sweet. My first visitor just dropped by. It was a courier bringing a new set of sheets and futons (of which I already had, which further means I now have a guest bed!). I have found out easily why people can live here for years not knowing Japanese. Conversations here are short, choppy, and while the Japanese are number one in customer service, they are quick to the point. He asked me if I was Uwenderu (which is the closest way to pronounce my name here) in Japanese and pointed to where I needed to sign, said arigato gozaimasu and rode off. No conversation necessary.
Today will be my first day of teaching. Kashima, from the Bronx, has been teaching my lessons in my absence. I will start working with her to begin teaching my new students. My work day is really light today, only three classes I believe. I am pretty excited to get started. I also met Sarah, another American from Massachusetts, and Mike the Scotsman last night who are both pretty cool. I am glad that I get on so well with the teachers in my school, and I cannot wait to meet the last teacher, Ai, the Japanese native English teacher. After February, it’ll just be Sarah and Ai and I think we will have a wonderful time together. That was a funny sentence to real aloud because Ai’s name is pronounced “Ay.”
Anyway, I need to take a nice long soak in my small, but deep bathtub. I am trying to fight some congestion that I first felt on the plane. I love you all and I want to hear how you are doing. Hit me up by e-mail or on Skype.
This is day three of my contract here in Japan and the day could not be any prettier. I am in Hamamatsu, finally, after concluding a two-day training session in Nagoya, about 40 minutes north by shinkansen. Shinkansen is the fastest line of railroad networks in the world. The trains are called nozomi, but you’ve probably heard of them as “bullet trains.” I really wanted to take pictures from the train, but I wasn’t in the mood to be touristy.
Okay, let me recap my first few days in Japan. While it still hasn’t hit me in a profound way, I am consciously aware that I am in Japan, and that I really am taller than 80% of the population. In Nagoya, it wasn’t such a big deal for an American and an Englishman (my trainer Bruce) to walk around speaking English. But last night I finally moved to my apartment in Hamamatsu, and the kids were not shy about staring at us. It must have been a strange sight to see three Americans, two of them black, and a Scotsman pushing a shopping cart to the train station (long story) but it was cool feeling like a local celebrity. Hamamatsu has nothing on Nagoya when it comes to size. Nagoya is a huge city, fourth largest in Japan I believe, and the architecture is ridiculous. I will get more pictures later when I go back up to see a Kabuki performance so stay tuned. However, the downtown part of Hamamatsu, which is a few minutes away from my school by bus or train, is also very pleasing to the eye. Again, this will have to be a verbal post as I just moved here late last night.
Japan is the most efficient country in the world. This may not be a complete fact, but from what I’ve seen I am very impressed. First of all, many things in the public sector (malls, hotels, grocery stores) are done by motion detection sensors. Why is this ecologically sound? Think about how much air is wasted by doors being left open; how much water we waste flushing toilets and leaving water in the sink running. I posted one picture of a Japanese sink with the soap dispenser, the water, and the hand dryer all in the bowl of the sink. The toilet in my bathroom, well toilet-room since it is separate, has a small sink on the lid of the toilet. When I flush, water flows from the sink, to let me wash my hands, to the toilet bowl and it fills up for the next use. That combines two functions into one saving so many liters of water. Not to mention, there’s a little air freshener that is activated by the running water. You cannot get any more efficient than that.
One question/comment I get a lot is about my weight management and diet. While I have run across one very disgusting dinner, from a vending machine mind you, almost everything I’ve eaten here was delightful. For example, I had what is called Okonomiyaki. The literal translation of this dish is “cook whatever you like.” Basically, it is a batter made up of Japanese yams, cabbage, flour, water, and whatever regional ingredients. You pick your filling (I chose ika, which is squid for those you who don’t get the ika fries from Tsunami) and it is fried right in front of you. It is best described as an omelet, but not by appearance. It was astounding.
Things I don’t like: I don’t like having to pay bills back in America, specifically my phone bill. I cannot use the damn thing at all, except as a $55 a month alarm clock. Ay. However, I am in love with my new apartment. There is so much opportunity to turn this place into “the” hangout. I have a small loft which is so much more spacious than I thought. It will house a hookah lounge, if you will. Of course most of this won’t happen until my first paycheck, but it will be flipping sweet. My first visitor just dropped by. It was a courier bringing a new set of sheets and futons (of which I already had, which further means I now have a guest bed!). I have found out easily why people can live here for years not knowing Japanese. Conversations here are short, choppy, and while the Japanese are number one in customer service, they are quick to the point. He asked me if I was Uwenderu (which is the closest way to pronounce my name here) in Japanese and pointed to where I needed to sign, said arigato gozaimasu and rode off. No conversation necessary.
Today will be my first day of teaching. Kashima, from the Bronx, has been teaching my lessons in my absence. I will start working with her to begin teaching my new students. My work day is really light today, only three classes I believe. I am pretty excited to get started. I also met Sarah, another American from Massachusetts, and Mike the Scotsman last night who are both pretty cool. I am glad that I get on so well with the teachers in my school, and I cannot wait to meet the last teacher, Ai, the Japanese native English teacher. After February, it’ll just be Sarah and Ai and I think we will have a wonderful time together. That was a funny sentence to real aloud because Ai’s name is pronounced “Ay.”
Anyway, I need to take a nice long soak in my small, but deep bathtub. I am trying to fight some congestion that I first felt on the plane. I love you all and I want to hear how you are doing. Hit me up by e-mail or on Skype.
19 December, 2008
One for the Road
2.2.09 Dallas/Fort Worth International Airport (DFW)
2.3.09 Central Japan International Airport (NGO)
I am forty-five days away from being an ex-pat again. I have been slowly getting everything ready for my trip, including buying a new laptop, suits, shirts, ties, cuff links, shoes, etc. I am preparing to make my formal goodbyes and compile a huge list of contact information. But, honestly, it is hard to explain how I landed myself in this position to begin with.
Like any good story, this too has a beginning.
One day in September, right before Hurricane Gustav, I was sitting on my father's couch job-hunting. I moved to Dallas, TX in an attempt to be closer to Austin so when the opportunity to relocate presented itself, I could easily pack up and head down. Unlike Baton Rouge, Austin is a great hub for artists. As a graduate of theatre from Louisiana State University, I was going to begin my formal career in the theatre there. While searching for a temporary solution I came across an advertisement to work in Japan teaching English.
Normally I would have passed it up, but three factors persuaded me to look into it. First, I really didn't have anything better to do than work in Japan. Seriously. I have been out of school since 2006 and the job market for theatre majors is much smaller than it should be, considering the widely-varied skills we learn from public speaking to carpentry. Second, I wanted to direct the Shakespearean tragedy/bloodbath Titus Andronicus with a Japanese aesthetic and the only way to research Japanese drama that is better than renting movies from the local public library is to actually live in Japan. Finally, I may be addicted to travel and the itch was rising.
As of September 20, I had signed a contract and became an employee with the GEOS company, an eikaiwa (English conversation school) with over 500 locations in Japan. A McDonald's of English conversation if you will.
As of December 5, I learned that I will be living in a city called Hamamatsu, the largest city in the Shizuoka prefecture, in the Chūbu region on the main island of Honshu. Translation, equally two hours from both Tokyo and Kyoto and an hour southeast of Nagoya.
As of December 17, I know I will be flying out on February 2nd to arrive February 3rd at 19:00.
As my associate Nate always reminds me: take it one day at a time. So, I will. And I will document those days here, just to share my world with my family who I will undoubtedly miss. I am glad we have been down this road before when I went to England and I still cannot believe how much love and support I've gotten from such a radical decision. If there is one thing I've learned as an ex-pat, home is a state of mind. And with the supportive people I have in my life, I will always take a piece of home with me everywhere I go.
And just like that, I am blogging again.
2.3.09 Central Japan International Airport (NGO)
I am forty-five days away from being an ex-pat again. I have been slowly getting everything ready for my trip, including buying a new laptop, suits, shirts, ties, cuff links, shoes, etc. I am preparing to make my formal goodbyes and compile a huge list of contact information. But, honestly, it is hard to explain how I landed myself in this position to begin with.
Like any good story, this too has a beginning.
One day in September, right before Hurricane Gustav, I was sitting on my father's couch job-hunting. I moved to Dallas, TX in an attempt to be closer to Austin so when the opportunity to relocate presented itself, I could easily pack up and head down. Unlike Baton Rouge, Austin is a great hub for artists. As a graduate of theatre from Louisiana State University, I was going to begin my formal career in the theatre there. While searching for a temporary solution I came across an advertisement to work in Japan teaching English.
Normally I would have passed it up, but three factors persuaded me to look into it. First, I really didn't have anything better to do than work in Japan. Seriously. I have been out of school since 2006 and the job market for theatre majors is much smaller than it should be, considering the widely-varied skills we learn from public speaking to carpentry. Second, I wanted to direct the Shakespearean tragedy/bloodbath Titus Andronicus with a Japanese aesthetic and the only way to research Japanese drama that is better than renting movies from the local public library is to actually live in Japan. Finally, I may be addicted to travel and the itch was rising.
As of September 20, I had signed a contract and became an employee with the GEOS company, an eikaiwa (English conversation school) with over 500 locations in Japan. A McDonald's of English conversation if you will.
As of December 5, I learned that I will be living in a city called Hamamatsu, the largest city in the Shizuoka prefecture, in the Chūbu region on the main island of Honshu. Translation, equally two hours from both Tokyo and Kyoto and an hour southeast of Nagoya.
As of December 17, I know I will be flying out on February 2nd to arrive February 3rd at 19:00.
As my associate Nate always reminds me: take it one day at a time. So, I will. And I will document those days here, just to share my world with my family who I will undoubtedly miss. I am glad we have been down this road before when I went to England and I still cannot believe how much love and support I've gotten from such a radical decision. If there is one thing I've learned as an ex-pat, home is a state of mind. And with the supportive people I have in my life, I will always take a piece of home with me everywhere I go.
And just like that, I am blogging again.
12 February, 2006
"We are still shuckin' and jivin'."
I started to make a small statement and it took every ounce of my being to not scream, cry, yell, berate, or simply expose 21 years of feeling like... like an octoroon. I couldn't stop shaking, and I was too afraid to make my real point, but saying "we are still shuckin' and jivin'" really hit me. Hard.
Times like these I wished I still wrote for the newspaper. This would have made a great column.
At the dawn of the nineteenth century, a form of popular entertainment in America is the minstrel show. Performers of these productions were white men who wore burnt cork, greasepaint, or shoe polish on their faces and exaggerated the features of the eyes and lips with makeup in order to caricaturize blacks. It was so successful that blacks got in on the show to escape menial jobs of the time. Swallowing any pride, they donned the blackface and began singing and dancing, shuckin' and jivin', at their own expense.
The era of the minstrel show is long past. Jim Crow, the most famous minstrel character, has taken his final curtain call. The smell of burning cork no longer haunts the backstage of the theatre. Today, we live in a "cultured" society and we demand that no differentiating characterizations be portrayed stereotypically on-stage, regardless of purpose or relevancy to contemporary society. Harrumph! We find blackface offensive.
Oh, excuse me, is it African-American face now?
Blacks have become acclimated into American society but an air of minstrelsy still lingers in our modern-day polluted air. A lot of the assumptions and stereotypes that arose from minstrel shows are still a part of our vernacular. It may not be alright for someone to paint their face black in blatant mockery, but you calling someone a big black man in order to describe how imposing he appears is certainly acceptable; we all know through cultural upbringing there is a vast discrepancy between a big black man and a big white man (sarcasm). We still think it inoffensive to mention how well blacks can dance, or attribute athleticism to race.
We no longer put on the makeup, but we are stilling selling the idea of what it is to be black. Instead of burlap, we wear baggy pants that hang far below the waist. Wearing shoe polish has been replaced with gold teeth. The music of Bones and Tambor is now called rap, and Mr. Interlocutor (the only figure of the minstrel show in whiteface) has gotten a job as a record label producer, helping to promulgate this image as far as possible.
We want to tell the world that we think it is unfair for them to mock us with minstrel shows and we would cry offense if one was to be performed today, while we are still on-stage giving everyone else a show of caricatures. We even take these roles to mean ethnic identity and anyone who does not share the similar features (not exaggerated mouths but use of slang and the phrase "you know what I'm saying" incessantly) is not black. And although I continue to say we, it is my very awareness of this show and refusal to be a performer that some individuals- black, white or otherwise- do not consider me "black."
Most of this piece is based on Irish author Dion Boucicault's play, The Octoroon, written in 1859 about a woman who is one-eighth black. While she doesn't look the part or talks in an elevated, more eloquent form than that of the other blacks in the play, she still has black blood running through her veins.
I can relate to her. I don't adhere to the ridiculous cultural norm that seemingly defines "blackness" but I am no less black because of my blood. And I am tired, almost 22 years of tired, of having people question that blood.
I am tired of people telling me or others that I am surprisingly eloquent, as if it isn't possible for a black male to be articulate. I am tired of people assuming I play basketball or that I must be a good dancer without having seen me do either. No, I have never played the drums. Yes, I can swim- fairly well actually. No, just because I want a career in the theatre does not mean I support Tyler Perry and the rest of the "chitlin circuit." The first play I write will have nothing to do with Big Mama. I'm not donning the ideal of "blackness" to entertain you any further.
The days of blackface are over, but we are still shuckin' and jivin'.
You know what I'm saying?
I started to make a small statement and it took every ounce of my being to not scream, cry, yell, berate, or simply expose 21 years of feeling like... like an octoroon. I couldn't stop shaking, and I was too afraid to make my real point, but saying "we are still shuckin' and jivin'" really hit me. Hard.
Times like these I wished I still wrote for the newspaper. This would have made a great column.
At the dawn of the nineteenth century, a form of popular entertainment in America is the minstrel show. Performers of these productions were white men who wore burnt cork, greasepaint, or shoe polish on their faces and exaggerated the features of the eyes and lips with makeup in order to caricaturize blacks. It was so successful that blacks got in on the show to escape menial jobs of the time. Swallowing any pride, they donned the blackface and began singing and dancing, shuckin' and jivin', at their own expense.
The era of the minstrel show is long past. Jim Crow, the most famous minstrel character, has taken his final curtain call. The smell of burning cork no longer haunts the backstage of the theatre. Today, we live in a "cultured" society and we demand that no differentiating characterizations be portrayed stereotypically on-stage, regardless of purpose or relevancy to contemporary society. Harrumph! We find blackface offensive.
Oh, excuse me, is it African-American face now?
Blacks have become acclimated into American society but an air of minstrelsy still lingers in our modern-day polluted air. A lot of the assumptions and stereotypes that arose from minstrel shows are still a part of our vernacular. It may not be alright for someone to paint their face black in blatant mockery, but you calling someone a big black man in order to describe how imposing he appears is certainly acceptable; we all know through cultural upbringing there is a vast discrepancy between a big black man and a big white man (sarcasm). We still think it inoffensive to mention how well blacks can dance, or attribute athleticism to race.
We no longer put on the makeup, but we are stilling selling the idea of what it is to be black. Instead of burlap, we wear baggy pants that hang far below the waist. Wearing shoe polish has been replaced with gold teeth. The music of Bones and Tambor is now called rap, and Mr. Interlocutor (the only figure of the minstrel show in whiteface) has gotten a job as a record label producer, helping to promulgate this image as far as possible.
We want to tell the world that we think it is unfair for them to mock us with minstrel shows and we would cry offense if one was to be performed today, while we are still on-stage giving everyone else a show of caricatures. We even take these roles to mean ethnic identity and anyone who does not share the similar features (not exaggerated mouths but use of slang and the phrase "you know what I'm saying" incessantly) is not black. And although I continue to say we, it is my very awareness of this show and refusal to be a performer that some individuals- black, white or otherwise- do not consider me "black."
Most of this piece is based on Irish author Dion Boucicault's play, The Octoroon, written in 1859 about a woman who is one-eighth black. While she doesn't look the part or talks in an elevated, more eloquent form than that of the other blacks in the play, she still has black blood running through her veins.
I can relate to her. I don't adhere to the ridiculous cultural norm that seemingly defines "blackness" but I am no less black because of my blood. And I am tired, almost 22 years of tired, of having people question that blood.
I am tired of people telling me or others that I am surprisingly eloquent, as if it isn't possible for a black male to be articulate. I am tired of people assuming I play basketball or that I must be a good dancer without having seen me do either. No, I have never played the drums. Yes, I can swim- fairly well actually. No, just because I want a career in the theatre does not mean I support Tyler Perry and the rest of the "chitlin circuit." The first play I write will have nothing to do with Big Mama. I'm not donning the ideal of "blackness" to entertain you any further.
The days of blackface are over, but we are still shuckin' and jivin'.
You know what I'm saying?
21 December, 2005
Busy semester
Hello accurately-predicted grades. (3.68 GPA this semester- five As, two Bs, one really long, tough semester; 3.30 LSU total) Goodbye Nip/Tuck. It was a great third season, followed by a great finale, and now I officially have no reason to watch television. It's a good thing.
I don't think I can do "Antigone" and JD's show ("Tennessee Williams in Quarter Time") simultaneously. "Antigone"'s run ends a week before "Tennessee" begins. And while I'm sure I won't be doing much in JD's show, I don't want to step on either of their toes, when there are other people capable of being in either show... well, being a guard. I like the cast and the process- I've been wanting to act with most of these people and Renegade Shakespeare for a while now, but I want to work with JD and the professional actors even more and he asked me first, though without giving me dates or anything.
I hate to say it, but there are great contacts to be made there, not to mention great talent to observe/study. When the play list was up I really wanted to be in it but when I found out I couldn't I was disheartened. So, when JD asked me anyway to be in it, my heart dropped. I need to talk to Chels tomorrow.
I think it's ironic that the semester I am devoting to writing and directing is the one in which I am cast in three shows (four, Katie Sills, four). I guess bad actors get cast too. Hell, Kevin Costner had a career.
I don't think I can do "Antigone" and JD's show ("Tennessee Williams in Quarter Time") simultaneously. "Antigone"'s run ends a week before "Tennessee" begins. And while I'm sure I won't be doing much in JD's show, I don't want to step on either of their toes, when there are other people capable of being in either show... well, being a guard. I like the cast and the process- I've been wanting to act with most of these people and Renegade Shakespeare for a while now, but I want to work with JD and the professional actors even more and he asked me first, though without giving me dates or anything.
I hate to say it, but there are great contacts to be made there, not to mention great talent to observe/study. When the play list was up I really wanted to be in it but when I found out I couldn't I was disheartened. So, when JD asked me anyway to be in it, my heart dropped. I need to talk to Chels tomorrow.
I think it's ironic that the semester I am devoting to writing and directing is the one in which I am cast in three shows (four, Katie Sills, four). I guess bad actors get cast too. Hell, Kevin Costner had a career.
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