Lost Identities: How White Supremacy Maintains itself

As we all know, whiteness is a social construct (because everything is, duh). It is not a concept that has been clear and stable from the dawn of time. Actually, it is even a fairly recent concept as they go, yet it is still one people have naturalised quickly. Naturalising means that people believe that something is not socially constructed but a direct reflection of the natural world, with sex being another prominent one. Because of course you can see the difference between me and Beyoncé, right?

Whiteness as a concept cannot be separated from white supremacy as it is and was tied to it from birth. The only reason to define someone’s “race” via genotype is to establish differences and hierarchies. But since “race” is of course not a natural phenomenon we merely seek to describe, it’s always been in trouble. There is no logic to it, just power, and that power has developed several strategies to maintain itself. One pretty obvious one is including groups that had previously been excluded. You can see that pretty well in how, for example, folks of Irish or Italian descent were included into the “white” category in the USA: give them a stake in white supremacy, use them as a shield against accusations of racism. See, the Irish were discriminated against as well, they overcame it, if black people are still suffering it’s because there’s actually something wrong with black people.

Another way is by folding individual people into the group, erasing their identities and heritage. They can only gain the status of “white” by denying that they were ever anything else.Wait a generation or two and nobody knows anymore that you have indeed ancestors who were not considered white.

My own family history is such an example. I am white, of German heritage, for all purposes of the law and society. My last name, passed down from my paternal grandpa literally means “person from a very boring village 20km from the place I live now”. But my paternal grandma already spoils the picture, as she grew up as a member of the German settlers in the Ukraine. After the war she was considered a “dirty Russian”, my dad had kids bully him, and they did everything to hide that “dirty family secret”. Me? I just noticed that grandma had a different accent than the rest of the family. To me, any part of that heritage and identity has been lost. My cousin’s father in law, who is a hobby genealogist researched grandma’s family and I learned more about them from his essay than from my family. The Russian German families who arrived in the 90s were pretty quickly folded into the “white” category because they are needed to uphold white supremacy against the growing Muslim community and Muslim refugees. Same with Italians. In my childhood, prejudice against Italian immigrants was on par with prejudice against Turkish immigrants, but this has shifted dramatically.

On my mother’s side it becomes even more extreme. Her grandmother’s family used to be Sinti or Roma. I suspect Sinti, because they are more likely to settle and integrate into the community at the price of giving up their identity, but I have no clue. All the family ever knew is that they were G***. They didn’t even have a name for their heritage anymore beyond the slur used by white people around them. All we can trace back is the family name that is of Hindu origin.

None of that makes me not white. I don’t claim membership of the communities. It’s not a quest to seek faux oppression because some of my ancestors had to pay a heavy price for me to be considered white and gaining white privilege (see “my great-great-great-great grandmother was a Cherokee princess, that makes me so spiritual and also you cannot call me racist”). It’s an acknowledgement of their histories. It’s an acknowledgement of how white supremacy works in subtle ways, making sure that people don’t show solidarity with each other, because they’re fighting to be included in the dominant category. It’s an acknowledgement of loss. It’s also an acknowledgement of how these very stories can once again be used to dismiss systemic racism in favour of individual accounts of success and failure.

Jack’s Walk

© Voyager, all rights reserved

It’s been another beautiful day around here, and Jack and I spent most of it outdoors again. We started the day with a bit of gardening and then spent the afternoon taking a slow walk in the woods. Mr. V joined us, and it turned into a pleasant family outing, taking in the best of the season and meandering our way home down a few country roads. I had to stop and say hi to this small herd, who were quietly cutting the grass in this home’s front yard. They were friendly and curious and not at all bothered by Jack’s excited calls of ‘Hello, I’m Jack. What’s your name?”

The cows made me think about ice cream, so we stopped at Dairy Queen on the way home, and we had ice cream before dinner. Which is meatloaf. Don’t tell the cows.

© Voyager, all rights reserved

Autumn in a Flower Patch

I have tried to plant some strawflowers this year and I am going to make an even bigger patch next year. They are beautiful and butterflies and bees simply love them to bits. I have several red admirals there during a sunny day.

There are ten pictures, so nine are below the fold. Do you recognize the bee mimicking hoverfly?

© Charly, all rights reserved. Click for full size.

[Read more…]

Starling

I had an extremely bad year bird-watching wise so far. There are definitively a lot fewer birds around than there used to be.

For example, only a few starlings came by to harvest all the surplus aronias. And only one was visible enough to take a picture. Normally, at this time of year, the tree should be stripped bare by starlings and thrushes heading south.

© Charly, all rights reserved. Click for full size.

I have not seen a single golden finch, greenfinch, or siskin the whole year. Neither have I seen any fieldfares, or thrushes, and just a few blackbirds, very sparsely. Chaffinch song is usually a constant presence the whole summer – and this year I cannot remember hearing it even once, despite chaffinch being supposedly the most common bird of central Europe.. And in the last month or two tits and sparrows  – the consants of my garden the whole year – have disappeared too. Redstarts are still here, but wagtails never showed up.

I fear this is a real environmental problem and a local sign of a global catastrophy.

A Kestrel to Brighten Your Day

From Avalus, and dedicated to our own lovely kestrel.

©Avalus, all rights reserved.

This one was pretty special to me and so there are quite a lot of photos!

I was driving to work and I saw this kestrel (At least, I hope this bird is a kestrel xD) trying to land in low bushes and failing. So I figured it was a young bird.

Then it noticed me and got a bit of distance,  flying around me at about 20 m for a few minutes before retreating to the top a lamppost next to me.  From there it eyed me with some suspicion but eventually I was allowed to come near enough for some close ups (from about 5m away).

Then, it took off again, squaking and chirping at a cat. And another two kestrels joined the fray. The cat was not impressed. I was trying to get some video-shots but with me half-sitting on my bike, a pretty strong wind and the nice camouflage of the bird, I did not get good footage.

But I had a good feeling for the rest of the day, kestrels are really elegant birds! [Read more…]

A Painful and Exhausted Degupdate

Last night I lost it. The last two weeks were bad, bad, with both my parents having some major health issues, my aunt being an asshole and the Katja dying and right now I’m really, really  protective of the other two degus, so when last night Estelle escaped and was nowhere to be found, I really found the end of my tether. I did something I haven’t done in 21 years of relationship: I called Mr home (poor guy had just left a couple of hours before because he had to take the kid to a medical appointment). Find yourself a guy who’ll take a 200km round trip to give you a hug.

Finally I found Estelle in the Little One’s wardrobe, under the socks drawer. How she got in there? Your guess is as good as mine.

©Giliell, all rights reserved

Estelle is also generally very shy and quiet. She doesn’t yet take treats from us and cusses me out whenever I try to offer her some. And she’ll just sit motionlessly in a corner when there’s something she doesn’t like, so while the Little One came downstairs for my help, she somehow got into that wardrobe and stayed very still. After we finally found her, we had to get her back. In the end I caught her and she very much did not agree with me.

©Giliell, all rights reserved

Degu teeth are sharp. If something like a thumb piercing existed I could have inserted one, because the teeth met in the middle of my thumb. At least it bled nicely, as you can see, so there’s little risk of infection.

Today we had the big cage cleaning and both degus don’t agree with being confined to the small left side, so Estelle used the opportunity so simply jump over my head, run down my back and escape again. This time I caught her with a towel and banished her to an old wine box for the time of cleaning. Candy simply stayed inside, but we cleaned like the devil was on our tail and by the end of it I was covered in sweat and litter.

©Giliell, all rights reserved Estelle, looking very suspicious at my hand. At this point she hadn’t found out how tasty I apparently am.

 

Jack’s Walk

©voyager, all rights reserved

Jack and I have spent lots of time outside the past few days, trying to soak in as much sunshine and nice weather as we can before the days get too short and cold. The smaller creatures of the world are doing the same. All-day long, our neighbourhood is abuzz with bees, and there is a steady stream of chipmunks and squirrels skittering back and forth carrying treasure hither, thither and yon. Jack finds all this activity very distracting. He feels obligated to watch when they cross too close to his porch, which often happens, as we are an apparent thoroughfare, but he gets tired and cranky and eventually lays down his bowling ball of a head with a clunk and a sigh. If he can stay awake, Jack grumbles at the noises, but if he falls off to sleep, it’s a fitful one, full of twitching and whisker bristling. I imagine his dreams are full of giving chase in his younger body when he could run as easily as walk. I have those dreams, too, Bubba, only I don’t chase squirrels, I dance.

Jack’s Walk

The first day of fall and the world is golden. Voyager, all rights reserved.

The first day of fall was almost as beautiful as the last day of summer. There wasn’t quite as much sunshine due to a thin layer of stratus cloud that dulled the light, but the day was warm, and Jack and I took ourselves out for a country walk and a drive around some back roads. We stopped a few times so I could take pictures, and Jack could explore a few ditches and pee on some new trees. We had a lovely afternoon, but maybe we overdid things a bit because we both fell asleep as soon as we sat down at home. I’m pretty sure we’ll both sleep well tonight, too. At our age, a full day of fresh air and exercise is exhausting.