11.23.2007
11.17.2007
International Latino Film Festival "Super Amigos"
"Super Amigos" is a documentary about 4 libre wrestlers in Mexico City, fighting for social justice towards the environment (Super Ecologista), animal cruelty (Super Animal), queer awareness (Super Gay), and housing issues (Super Bario). The film showed these masked men, masked because their persona can be are seen within every community, fight against Mexico City's WalMart and over consumption of packaging material; gay pride awareness, traditions of bull fighting and harm towards animals; and gentrification.
11.12.2007
The Chatroom (Bashers)
me: how goes it?
him: it goes
me: cool
me: i'm making a fabulous pizza pie
him: did you just use the word "fabulous"?
me: well, i over used the word "divine" today, and that's all i had left
him: ...
me: sorry, i forgot homosexuals are the most homophobic people
me: bye
This conversation bugged me more now because I was harassed during my lunch break at work yesterday. Crossing the street on Geary Boulevard, two guys took it upon themselves to give me an evaluation on my gender identity. Usually, only acts of misconduct in the Inner Richmond follow the lines of tagging on the laundry mat next door, which is how people know where I live, and parking during street cleaning. And the only time I've heard police cars go by is when they leave funeral homes. But this event went unnoticed.
Just midway between the west and east side of 8th Avenue, I quickly turned my head as a white convertible with two men inside yell something along the lines of "YOU'RE A MAN, NOT A WOMAN!" as if I had forgotten my genitals were pressed against my tight, acid washed jeans. I turned around in the middle of the street, giving them the finger, since I don't yell in public. Whether they saw it or not didn't irritate me, it was the emptiness I felt after. Having thought ignorant people will never correct their social anxiety towards an oppressed group, I realized that I was being ignorant about social change.
I've suppressed countless memories of dodging (filled) soda bottles in high school, slurs in a language I already knew the meanings of (because people didn't think I was Mexican), and changing in the bathroom for gym class to hide from harassment (which has been going on since first grade). Now, finishing up my last year of college, I think back at the question my co-worker recently asked me, "Why did you move to San Francisco?" I see the reason was less about my independence or the art scene, and more about being around socially conscious people that knew homophobia was outdated, or could tolerate a couple of parades.
I guess 5 years ago, I didn't expect homophobia to maintain it's domain. And it never crossed my mind that I would also face the same treatment from a group of people whom I shared historical struggles with.
him: it goes
me: cool
me: i'm making a fabulous pizza pie
him: did you just use the word "fabulous"?
me: well, i over used the word "divine" today, and that's all i had left
him: ...
me: sorry, i forgot homosexuals are the most homophobic people
me: bye
This conversation bugged me more now because I was harassed during my lunch break at work yesterday. Crossing the street on Geary Boulevard, two guys took it upon themselves to give me an evaluation on my gender identity. Usually, only acts of misconduct in the Inner Richmond follow the lines of tagging on the laundry mat next door, which is how people know where I live, and parking during street cleaning. And the only time I've heard police cars go by is when they leave funeral homes. But this event went unnoticed.
Just midway between the west and east side of 8th Avenue, I quickly turned my head as a white convertible with two men inside yell something along the lines of "YOU'RE A MAN, NOT A WOMAN!" as if I had forgotten my genitals were pressed against my tight, acid washed jeans. I turned around in the middle of the street, giving them the finger, since I don't yell in public. Whether they saw it or not didn't irritate me, it was the emptiness I felt after. Having thought ignorant people will never correct their social anxiety towards an oppressed group, I realized that I was being ignorant about social change.
I've suppressed countless memories of dodging (filled) soda bottles in high school, slurs in a language I already knew the meanings of (because people didn't think I was Mexican), and changing in the bathroom for gym class to hide from harassment (which has been going on since first grade). Now, finishing up my last year of college, I think back at the question my co-worker recently asked me, "Why did you move to San Francisco?" I see the reason was less about my independence or the art scene, and more about being around socially conscious people that knew homophobia was outdated, or could tolerate a couple of parades.
I guess 5 years ago, I didn't expect homophobia to maintain it's domain. And it never crossed my mind that I would also face the same treatment from a group of people whom I shared historical struggles with.
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