Why Zoe Saldana's Stance on Race Bugs the Shit out of Me

First of all, I am a fan of Zoe Saldana’s. I’ve loved her work since Center Stage and I get excited whenever I see she’s in an upcoming film. So what I’m about to write is in no way meant to disparage Zoe’s character. I’m simply expressing why I find what she says about race to be troubling.

I’ve always been the type of fan who likes to know everything about the projects and actors I love. I actually listen to the DVD commentary on the TV shows I watch and sometimes find the explanation of how a show came to be more interesting than the show itself. I also like to know the backgrounds of my favorite actors and actresses. Years ago I learned that Zoe Saldana was a Black Latina. I was in college at the time and just learning about the African Diaspora so I found her background to be fascinating. I understood when she explained that she appreciated the African-American experience but couldn’t relate to it. She didn’t grow up eating Soul Food because her ethnic background is Latina even though her racial background is Black. Most people erroneously conclude that anyone who is racially Black is also African-American. I totally understood why Saldana found it frustrating that because of her skin color people would assume she was African-American.

Recently she gave an interview with BET, while promoting Star Trek: Into Darkness, where she reiterated her feelings on race. Her comments did not surprise me but they irked the shit out of me. Saldana appears to wish for a color blind world where race doesn’t matter. She said she runs from anyone who uses the word ethnicity. She says there is no such thing as people of color because all people have color. White people are not white. A sheet of paper is white. People are pink she says. I am completely shocked and horrified that she would imply that “people of color” do not exist as if we are in a post-racial America.

I get it, Zoe. I noticed as a 4 year old that coloring a person with a black crayon or a white crayon made my pictures look stupid. I questioned my mother: why do they call us black when we’re clearly brown? I asked these questions as a 4 year old. As I’ve aged I have come to understand that terms such as White, Black, of color, what have you, are political and personal identifiers. These terms define groups with a certain political history in the world, specifically since the 1500s or so. When I say I am Black I am obviously not trying to convince anyone that my skin is literally black. When someone refers to me as Black they are not literally saying my skin is the color black. They are recognizing that I am descended from African people; they will probably assume (correctly) that I am descended from Africans brought to the new world in bondage.

Of course there are people like Saldana whose history is different from mine. Her father was a Black Dominican man. Her mother is of Puerto Rican descent. Both of her parents’ ethnicities are a product of the exploration and colonization of the “New World” by Europeans. The African slave trade is irrevocably linked to that process. In fact, more Black African slaves went to Latin America than to the North American colonies. Puerto Ricans proudly embrace their mixed heritage and acknowledge that they are a product of White Spanish settlers, Native Americans, and Africans making babies together. I’m saying that, although ethnically Saldana and I are different (she grew up eating Puerto Rican food, I grew up eating Soul Food) our shared racial identity (Black) binds us because our histories and lives have been shaped by that world changing institution: the African Slave Trade.

Zoe’s effort to be distanced from her race is really sad. I wish she could be proud to carry her Blackness. I wish she could embrace what it means. Think of what a woman who looked like Zoe, whether she lived in Puerto Rico, The Dominican Republic, or the U.S., would have been allotted in life 100 years ago … 200 years ago. And look at the life that Zoe has now. Zoe is an internationally recognized superstar that acts not just in movies, but in Blockbuster movies! Her career is amazing and yes, her Blackness makes it amazing in a more poignant way than if she were an actress primarily of European descent. I wish she would wear her color proudly instead of flinching whenever someone mentions it, because whether she likes it or not, women of color take pride in seeing a beautiful and talented Black woman given her due in the mainstream. We’re proud of you, Zoe. Why aren’t you proud to be one of us?

After Dark by Haruki Murakami

--> -->

This is the second novel I’ve read by critically acclaimed novelist Haruki Murakami. I really enjoyed 1Q84 so I was eager to read his other works. After Dark is much shorter than 1Q84 but the style and themes are familiar. Murakami likes to write about the mundane aspects of life including meal preparation and hygiene routines. Some readers might find these extended passages detailing how a character goes about freshening up, working out, or preparing dinner to be tedious but somehow I found reading them to be soothing. It also sparked in me an awareness that all of us, whether we’re morally bankrupt or upstanding citizens, eat, fuck, and defecate, which I think may be Murakami’s point.

Another familiar theme is that of violence against women. In both 1Q84 and After Dark violence against women is portrayed with a clinical frankness which serves to highlight how commonplace and accepted violence against women remains in Japan. 1Q84 explored vengeance as a response to violence against women and After Dark does as well but with more subtlety. After Dark implores the reader to consider the sometimes blurry relationship between vengeance and justice. Through a small cast of unique characters Murakami explores the ripple effect of violence and exploitation; he reveals how the emotional and psychological devastation impacts not only the individual but those close to her as well.

Much of the book involves, what some might call, magical realism. After reading the book I honestly couldn’t tell if certain scenes were meant to be taken literally or read as symbolic. For some reason though, I felt certain that I understood what had occurred even if I didn’t know what had occurred. I know that sounds crazy but it’s true. I think therein lies the genius of the novel. The symbols are such that they don’t really require explanation, which makes for a rewarding if somewhat disorienting reading experience. If you’re curious about Haruki Murakami but daunted by the length of 1Q84, After Dark is a more compact example of his style and brilliance.   

 

A Quick Look at Look at Me by Jennifer Egan

 Jennifer Egan's Look At Me is so rich with meaning and social commentary that I don’t know where to begin in expressing how I feel about it. I can say that it left me feeling miserable after reading it. I literally finished the final line, shut the book, and crawled into bed for an impromptu nap. It was as if the weight and magnitude of the book’s message pressed me down and I had no choice but to try and sleep away the uneasy feeling that had settled over me.

This book was written before the advent of MySpace, Facebook, and YouTube but it eerily predicts all of these social networking mediums. The fictional “PersonalSpace ™” website that Charlotte joins turns people into “shopping malls” and commodifies every aspect of identity including hopes, dreams, and aspirations. Look At Me could be read as a cautionary tale in that sense. Did I feel depressed after reading it because the image obsessed culture that the novel warns against has already come to pass? No, it isn’t that. I think it’s more that this type of society has sprung up around us and well - nobody fucking cares.

I think on some level we know that our image and profit obsessed culture is terrible but yet we all want our slice of this shitty pie. We are dying to sell out. We post photos, videos, blog posts, 40 character bites of commentary, in the hope that someone will Look At Us, Notice Us, and if we’re lucky, Sponsor Us - or maybe that’s just me? Charlotte and her little sister fantasized as girls that their life was a movie that people were watching. Now little girls actually aspire to have their lives turned into a reality show (and if they become teen moms they just might get their wish).

The characters of Z and Moose and their respective journeys seem to confirm what I have feared for a long time: resistance is futile and leads to personal ruin rather than structural change. If you swallow the red pill and step outside the Matrix you are likely to find yourself terrified and alone.  Simply recognizing what Z terms “the conspiracy” can be devastating. It’s easier, perhaps imperative, that you just chill out and eat a fucking burger or take your wife to Hawaii.

Choose wisely ...

Maybe I’ve wandered too far into the realm of cultural criticism. Let’s focus on some more practical matters such as Egan’s preternatural ability to construct powerful metaphors and illustrate the inner anxieties of a character.  Her use of figurative language does not preclude the use of miraculous single word descriptors either. If her diction is anything to go by, Egan has an expansive vocabulary and knows what to do with it. She has a relationship with the English language that I can’t help but envy. If you’re an aspiring writer get your hands on one of Egan’s books immediately.  

Also, much of the novel takes place in my hometown of Rockford, IL. The primary protagonist of the novel was born and raised in Rockford and despised everything about it. Reading her scornful descriptions of Rockford was uncanny and at times made me uncomfortable, for I too grew up fantasizing about “getting out” of Rockford as if it were some sort of prison. In some ways reading this book made me ashamed of my shame and made me feel unusually protective of my hometown. 

All in all I can’t say that I enjoyed reading Look At Me. It was engaging and objectively I realize that it is a brilliant work of fiction; but it was almost too real. It presents a bleak future that feels as imminent as it does irredeemable. For some of you, reading it may amount to taking Morpheus’ red pill and for that reason I recommend it cautiously.        

The Great Gatsby: Personal Impressions

Like most people who attended high school in the United States I read F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby out of curricular obligation as a teenager. I remember finding it to be more palatable than other “classic” texts such as Hemingway’s Old Man and the Sea. I also enjoyed discovering that the narrator, Nick, was a gay man carrying a torch for Gatsby and proving this point to my teacher through textual analysis.

Beyond finding the book tolerable and outing the narrator to my class, the book did not leave a lasting impression on me. So when I sat down to re-read it a few nights ago in anticipation of Baz Luhrmann’s screen adaptation, I wasn’t expecting much. When I finished the book I sat staring at the cover incredulously realizing that I wanted to read it again -- immediately. I’ve been an avid reader ever since I learned basic phonics as a child. Often when I reach the end of a good book I am sad to see it end and wistfully wish that there was more (this may explain my love of fan-fiction since it continues the story after the author has quit on it). I have never felt the desire to re-read a book and I never had until last night. Fitzgerald’s seminal work left me eager to re-digest its content and I did in fact begin it again immediately.

I’d like to understand why the book left such an impression on me as an adult when it barely made a blip on my radar as a high school student. I think the book’s themes are accessible to teenagers on an intellectual level but far too profound to reach them on an emotional level. Most of them have not lived long enough, or simply lived enough to understand nostalgia, love, regret and self-delusion. Although as a young child I experienced a great deal of soul-deepening trauma, all of that was at the hands of fate and not the product of my own doing. Regret only comes with personal culpability.  

As an adult in my late 20s I am just now becoming familiar with nostalgia. Because there is a younger crop of teenagers nipping at my heels who do not remember the 1990s (or the century during which The Great Gatsby was written--yikes) I find myself musing about the good old days like someone well beyond my years. I work in higher education and finding myself surrounded by this demographic as they enter such a formative period in their lives keeps me aware of all that I’ve already done.

Fitzgerald’s genius, sumptuous, and vivid descriptions of Gatsby’s parties took me back to my undergraduate years when partying was not something you did on a special occasion; it was something you did regularly and awesomely. Wanton drifting from celebration to celebration is the purview of the traditional college student and the independently wealthy. I’m certainly not rich, so when I graduated from the University of Illinois in 2008 I said goodbye to that particular brand of recreation. Sometimes I miss it - the music, the drinks, the sexual energy and possibilities - while fully  understanding that the person I am now would be disgusted in the midst of such revelry. I don’t miss the parties so much as I miss the time when I would have enjoyed them.

Then there is the theme of relationships. I was admittedly a late bloomer when it came to romantic love. I didn’t enter into a monogamous romantic relationship until I was 25 years old. Traversing the rocky mores of love has been and continues to be one of the most challenging and fulfilling undertakings of my life. I found myself stricken with empathy for Tom and Daisy’s relationship. Don’t misunderstand me. I find the individual characters of Tom and Daisy to be as reprehensible as anyone. I empathize with their relationship. Tom says:

Why, -- there’re things between Daisy and me that you’ll never know, things that neither of us can ever forget.

Fitzgerald says those words seemed to “bite” into Gatsby and as I read them they certainly bit into me. There are moments, big and small, between lovers that people on the outside can not ever know. From silly pillow talk to divulging your darkest secret and trusting that person to keep it. You may ask your friend, “What do you see in him?” You may ask your friend, “Why won’t you leave her?” Your friend will try to answer you and may even come up with a response that makes sense to you but in reality, you may really never know the why of a relationship. It is not one thing but a series of shared experiences that makes up the core of a relationship. It is a unique secret that can never be shared. Reading books, watching movies, and lending an ear to friends having relationship troubles could not have prepared me for the reality of participating in one. I think I’m awestruck at Fitzgerald’s ability to illustrate in so few words one of the most profound aspects of being in a long-term committed relationship. Gatsby underestimated the strength of Daisy and Tom’s relationship, a mistake that is perhaps small in comparison to his myriad of other bad decisions, but a poignant one nonetheless.

Re-reading The Great Gatsby 11 years after the first time has been a moving experience. It has skyrocketed to the top of my ’fav’ list and now I am more eager than ever to see what the incomparable Baz Luhrmann has done with it. I look forward to re-reading this dynamic text over and over again. The quality of the writing and the power of the story have inspired me to try and improve my own writing. Before I close I would like to add that although this book is profound it is also just a really fun read. If you somehow avoided this text while in high school I recommend that you give it a shot. Whether you like it or not, it’s sure to leave a lasting impression.