Digame (Tell Me)

Illustration by Kamalia Bluntl l VOX Stafff

Last month, Atlanta-area teens were invited to the VOX newsroom for our Digame writing workshop. We talked about our cultures and what we wished others knew about us. Individuality goes beyond physical characteristics as well as ethnicities, and these teens’ stories definitely show it.
–Machelle Tran/VOX Staff

I wish people would know and understand the depth of the Hispanic culture, how family makes up and reaches out to almost every aspect of living. I wish that people could see the ties that bind a family into one, because there is great affection there, followed with concern and hope. Each family is its own plane of existence, as if each home was its own small world.

I wish that people could see the hidden strength of my people that dwells under the shadow of brutal pasts and poor leadership, how my people have come up, even under those dire circumstances. and fought hard and long to continue their existence and their seemingly eternal struggle for a better future, not for themselves but for their kin. It is true that all families do this, fight for their own kind, but my family is not just those underneath my roof. They are my neighbors; they are my friends; they are the aunts and uncles who have died for my struggle to fill my place in this world. My family, my people are those who came before me and those who will hopefully forever come after me. That’s what I wish people could see, could understand, that as one fights and dies alone in the dark, the coming dawn shows all that suffers. WE feel, we strive, we hope, we survive — together.

Let us forget about the differences of one race from the next. Let us shed this narrowed awareness of just one group of people being altered from the rest. Let us, for this one, last, fleeting moment accept that we are all one in the spotlight of humanity for we all fear, we all desire. Let us look upon this and take away the man-made names for our races and remember that we need to become strong as a species.

My father once told me on a stormy night in my childhood, never to fear the future’s cache. Although he never spoke those exact words, that’s the message that came through. That’s what I believe people should see as well — that no matter all the problems of this day, the fretful furies of the day’s fire, there is always a tomorrow. Too many in my time have fallen to the darkness of anguish through fear, regret and the promised silent secret that one day, one day they will change the past for tomorrow’s future. Yet, it’s just that. They forget they are living the future.

Now is the time to be, to exist and thrive, not the yesteryears of however many tears. Now is when you can change what was then; now is the moment when you decide to live and become rather than believe in what was and forget what is now. I wish people could see this, that they are the mountains they climb. Defeating this doubt, this great decay. I admit it is a difficult road but one I’d not ever regret taking, one that I hope all can overcome.

—David Mundin/Cross Keys High

What I’d like people to know about me is that I am Asian. I am not Chinese, but Vietnamese. I may have chinky eyes but I can see perfectly with 20/20 vision.
Please do not bring me a difficult equation and depend on me to find the answer; I am not very good at it.

Even though I get lost a lot, don’t blame it on my driving skills. I can drive. That’s how I got lost.

Chopsticks? Yes I use chopsticks, but not for everything! I use fingers for chicken wings, spoons for rice and forks for foods. I don’t use chopsticks 24/7, and using chopsticks isn’t some magical kung fu skill that we were born with.

While I am on the topic, I do not know kung fu. I have never gotten into a fight my whole life!

Yes I know sometimes Asians eat stuff that is like taboo for other cultures. It doesn’t mean I do. They might eat cats and dogs in some places, but hey I respect that because in some cultures eating cows and pigs is a big No-No. One man’s culture is another man’s taboo. So if you think eating certain foods is just plain disgusting, don’t run to me and judge me. Just don’t eat it yourself. (Just for the record I don’t eat cats or dogs. I love my cats.)

Another culture that I am part of is…I am gay. Even though I am gay, it doesn’t mean I like every guy I see, and if you are a guy, it doesn’t mean I want to get with you. I, like everyone else, have standards and certain qualities I look for in my relationships.

No I don’t like unicorns or fields of fluffy flowers (there aren’t any); I sometimes joke and say it, but I just want to shut them up. I don’t have a pet dog that I walk each morning trying to stay fit; I am more of a cat person, and I wake up at noon, super lazy.

I don’t have AIDS or any STDs. I gave blood. I am clean.

I am just like every normal guy; I don’t have a secret stash of girl clothes in my closet. I play video games. I don’t drag! And yup, no wigs!

I am just Me.

—Thanh Le/Cross Keys High

Blackanese, maybe.”

No. But it does sound cool…

“Japanegro.”

Uh-uh. Sounds kind of insulting…

“Now that you mention it, you do look Asian…”

No I don’t, I sigh.

While I see that as something of a compliment, to my knowledge there is not a lick of Asian (specifically Japanese) blood in my body. Of course, all blood is human blood, but beyond that, I am an African individual born in Japan.

I consider myself a product of the Motherland meeting the Land of the Rising Sun. With what I can piece together through people’s reactions, I am of mixed East African descent. According to Ethiopian ethnic specialists (better known as some people in the Underground at Five Points) I could be from a few ethnicities in Ethiopia. A few have even decided on specific tribes. Go me! And as far as the Rising Sun goes, I was just born there.

I’ve never considered myself African-American because it’s a FURTHER stupid label that means nothing.

I wish people knew what it was like to be an oppressed people, or at least, self-oppressed. People seem to believe that African people in America are naturally deviant and promiscuous. Nothing could be further from the truth. No one is naturally “this way” or “that way.” Africans who were born and raised in America (for the last 400 years) have a history that is uniquely our own, but is so distorted and pulled apart that it is easily made into whatever people want it to be. For the last 400 years, people have been able to associate negativity with Africans in America.

For example, if you need to find a promiscuous person, find a black chick. If you need a rapper, you’ve got so many schools to pick from. If you need a choreographer for “that kind of dance.” it’s called BET. If you need a scapegoat… well, the list goes on. And it’s sad because it can be done in many ways.

Black people have had so many names and labels over the last 400 years: Jezebel, born-criminal, childish, messy, bestial, naïve, the step above monkey in the evolutionary scale and the countless varieties of ways to twist the n-word. In short, I want people to know that black people are nothing other than people.

And I wish I didn’t have to defend this.

—Sage Nenyue/VOX Staff

When I think of Hispanics, one thing I get most angry about is how people automatically just think about Mexicans. I wish I could express and get the word out that there are so many other Spanish-speaking countries that no one even thinks about. I remember seeing a travel movie in my eighth grade Spanish class, and it was about all the great things to do in Mexico. When my school has Hispanic functions, they never celebrate holidays that I celebrate in my home like Dia Del Los Reyes, which is a holiday in most Hispanic cultures. They only hold a Dia de los Muertos party, which is only a Mexican holiday.

I remember vividly going to see the musical “The Spelling Bee.” In the show they were asking someone to define the word Mexican. The judges used it in the sentence, “Mexican, someone from Mexico or used in America as anyone from El Salvador, Costa Rica, Venezuela, Ecuador, etc.”

It’s very hard for me to relate to my Puerto Rican culture because of how I look. When people see me they only see half of me, my white half, and because of that they treat me differently. Even though I go visit my cousins in Puerto Rico, speak Spanish with my grandparents and am almost fluent, I feel almost wrong saying I am Latina. I feel as though I don’t belong just because I don’t experience the same things as other Latinos do solely because of how I look. I might not experience the same kind of racism. On the other hand I never want to be called white, because if you are white you [supposedly] have no culture, and you’re a bland, dry, cracker blonde who is supposedly superior yet appears to be hated by everyone else in the world.

When I visit my family in Puerto Rico, I am the American girl. No one speaks to me in Spanish even after my family or I have told them five times that I understand and can speak back to them. I am the gringa, or the stupid white girl. Most of the time I just have to go along and joke with them saying, “Well excuse you, I’m only HALF gringa,” to keep the lightness in that joke, which can be really derogatory. I want to tell them “No, I’m not. Stop treating me like the stupid American you think of and just accept that even though I don’t look it, I may know more than you think.” I want to say that, but I know I won’t change their opinions, and so all I can do is joke back along and make fun of my other half, leaving me with no place to be, not a stupid American, or a Latino.

—Elaine Whitehead/Paideia School

What I wished other people could understand about my culture is that we have come a long way since slavery (which was only a little over 100 years ago). It seems like a very long ago time, but it isn’t. Slavery is still in some of the mindsets of my people even though we are physically free, and we have tried our best to work away from that.

Yes, we still have those who embarrass us on Maury or Jerry Springer, but on the other hand many people of my culture have made it far in life, becoming doctors and lawyers. There are many of us who are educated or are still getting educated, but they don’t show that. Instead they show us shaking our breasts and bottoms on BET. Sex sells, so I’m assuming that black people are the first in line for this.
Sometimes I can’t blame anyone for judging us, because there aren’t a lot of emphases on the positive points of my culture, and I’m not sure why.

The true black family is the one who sticks together and knows where they came from and where they are headed in life. Supportive, loving and considerate are the words that come to mind when you get to know these families. The father puts the family together, and the mother keeps it that way. They understand that their children are there future.

Even though there are many single black mothers, almost all of them take on the role of the missing father, which in my opinion is very strong.

—Queen White/VOX Staff

What do I wish people knew about my culture? What I wish people knew was that culture doesn’t make much of a difference. What I wish people would do is look past my culture; look past what they see on the outside. I wish people would just talk to me for a few moments and learn that I am more than my skin color or hair color or clothing style.

That’s why instead of just wishing people wouldn’t judge me, I do something about it. If I see a person nearby, I go and speak to them about anything that comes to mind. If it doesn’t seem like they want to share, I bring up a new topic or ask them if they’re O.K. I have yet to run into someone who didn’t want to talk back. If you make the initiative, people will more often than not appreciate it.

Although I’ve spoken negatively about people judging me, I don’t always get negative responses. One occasion I remember was at a bank. My mother and I were sitting in the car, waiting for the lady ahead of us (who had very poorly parked) to finish up. She had also neglected to close the driver’s side door. As I was looking out the passenger window at her car, I noticed her daughter – who must’ve been maybe 9 or 10 – climbing out of the backseat into the driver’s seat and out the door. Why she didn’t feel the need to use her own door from the back seat, I do not know. But she got out of the car, went to get her mother from the ATM, and as she was walking back, I caught her eye. She immediately noticed my [fire-engine-red streaked]hair. Her jaw dropped to the floor, her eyes grew wide, and her hands went up to her own hair, which she started stroking to show amazement at mine. She then started saying something to her mother, obviously about my hair. Her mother smiled at her daughter, and as the young girl was climbing into her seat, this time using her own door, I heard something to the effect of, “It’s SO COOL!” Immediately, any frustration I had about the careless mother went away as I envisioned her daughter’s endless questions for coming weeks if she could dye her own hair red as well.

So although people make a lot of assumptions about my hair, I haven’t really gotten many assumptions about my ethnicity. No one really stereotypes my skin color, which is the main stereotype people think of. I don’t hear people talking about where I’m from or what I’m like other than the color of my hair.

—Sally Suggs/Chamblee High

I wish that society would understand that no one in this world is exactly like another. All my life, I’ve grown up discriminated and ostracized. Mainly, that’s because I am a minority, Asian actually. And as I go more in depth with my culture and my background, it actually gets worse. I am pure-blood Cantonese, and that’s the only thing I am that sure of in my life. People can be so insensitive and apathetic to others, and when you’re different, such as being a person of color, it’s a sign that you’ll definitely be made fun of or alienated.

I don’t know about other Asians because I cannot speak for them, but I wish that people knew how different a person can be. I don’t like rice. I’m only average in math. People are always mentioning that I’m short. Well, I’m not short. I’m just not tall, and that works. I don’t like Asian music, and I don’t have an accent. I hate it when I go somewhere and people look at me and speak in very basic English. They think I’m just another fob, and sometimes I play along for awhile and switch gears just to piss them off.

“So what are you?”

“Cantonese,” I said blandly. I let my eyes fall onto the ground and half expected the person to either reply with ignorance or just plain stupidity.

“So… is that in Japan?”

I raised a quizzical brow, and my eyes met his to see that he was just plain clueless.

“No, “ I replied. “It’s in China.”

He stood with wide-eyed wonder for a moment of three seconds before the effect wore off. I began to turn on my heel and walk away, but the following words from that person just about caused more shock to me than I to them.

“Well, it’s the same thing, anyways.”

I started off not even bothering to waste my time, especially when his existence did not matter to me. I just couldn’t believe that China was the same as Japan just as peanut butter was the same as jelly, or blonde the same as brunette and so on.

—Machelle Tran/VOX Staff

I would like more people to know that the Puerto Rican culture is not the same as the Mexican culture. Many times, my friends mistake me for being Mexican because I speak Spanish. I think everyone should know that everyone who speaks Spanish or appears to be Hispanic is not Mexican.

There are a lot of differences between the two. For one thing, Puerto Ricans are a mixture of African, Taino Indian and Spanish blood while Mexicans consist mainly of Native American and Spanish blood. Aside from the fact that Mexico and Puerto Rico are located in completely different places (Puerto Rico is an island in the Caribbean while Mexico is right below the States), the food and customs are different too.

Although Christmas is celebrated in PR, a separate holiday is observed known as the Three Kings’ Day. For those who have any background in the Christian faith, it’s known that right after Jesus was born, three wise men came to visit and showered him with gifts. When celebrating Three Kings’ Day, it is believed that overnight these three wise men come to every child’s house to feed their camels. So the kids usually collect shoeboxes, fill them with grass and place them under the bed for the kings. In order to show their gratitude, the men leave a gift in each shoebox.

I am mixed with African American, Puerto Rican and Native American ethnicities. I think more people should know that Africans were not always slaves, and that it’s hard for me to really share any cultural info concerning Africa because I don’t even know which country my ancestors came from. I’m not even sure which Native American group some of my dad’s relatives or ancestors came from. However, like every other nationality we (“we” meaning Native and African American) have had our struggles but hopefully will continue to fight for what is right.

—Shanel Little/VOX Staff

The stereotypes that are usually given to African Americans are the following: People usually think that black people tend to have a lot of children and never take care of them. That black men make babies and abandon them. That all black people wear hair weaves. Blacks are ghetto and loud. And the most notorious, that black men think the only way to be successful is to either be a drug dealer, rapper or athlete.

There is more than what meets the eye when it comes to black culture. Blacks are very strong-willed people. There are many men who take care of there families.
In my opinion I think that stereotypes are not fair. Why should a certain group or a handful of people determine how a whole race or ethnicity is or behaves? It all depends on the person as an individual.

—Kiersten Nurse/VOX Staff