If I seem more surly than usual today, it’s because I dreamt I attended a Tumblr Wixen Meetup, and all the folks that had seen me via webcam, or were regular chatters that knew about my ethnicities, were pulling me along and introducing me to their acquaintances as:
“That black woman I told you about.”
I was the only person with black heritage and dark skin. There were three others of Spanish descent, but because they were light skinned and passed, they weren’t as exotic as I was.
The last straw was when one of those with sangre de España introduced me to their Spanish speaking cohorts as:
“¡La mulata que no es negra y no es boriqueña pero es una bruja negra que misteriosa! Ella no habla español porque a su sangre mixta.”
The fuck you say, bitch?
It may take me a bit to write it out, and a bit longer to get my mouth to say it in a way that is parsable, but I understand Spanish very fucking well, thank you very fucking much.
I am no person’s token bitch.
I pulled my arm away. “Entiendo español bien, por favor y gracias. Y entiendo este lugar no es para mí. Ustedes van con sus dioses, porque no voy con tuyo.”
The acquaintances of the person that broke the last straw covered their face in the way one does when observing an enjoyable public flogging. They spoke quickly to each other (in Spanish, of course) about that person’s inability to keep me in her retinue. But they also spoke about how it was a good thing I was walking away because my piel oscura marked me as a descendant of slaves and I had no right to be considered an equal because of it.
(I don’t think you guys know or understand how much light-skinned Spanish on Black racism goes on. It’s not just a Puerto Rican thing.)
“Keri! There you are! Listen, there is someone I want you to meet. I’ve told them all about you and he really wants to speak with you…” This Tumblrite now pulling on my arm is one of y’all that I do interact with often. Thinking maybe I could salvage the day, I agreed to go with you.
You brought me over to a group of assorted white people of various ages and singled out a middle-aged, in-denial-of-balding, stiffly-held man. “This is Keri. She’s expressed interest in your field of work often. Thought you two should finally meet up in person!” You were so excited.
He looked at me and blinked in misunderstanding. “Keri? Is that short for anything?”
“Kerian. I am Kerian Nox.” I tilted my head but did not bow. An action that offended him. He stiffened his back and turned his head slightly as if he had just smelled a fart in polite company.
“You’re not what I expected a ‘Kerian’ to look like.” He was choosing his words very carefully. I realized it was not for my benefit, but to appear upstanding in the crowd of adorers surrounding us.
“You’re not what I expected a wise man to look like. So we are both corrected.” You snorted a genuine laugh as I displayed an empty smile. He caught the undercurrent and widened his eyes in offense. “But this is not the place for grandstanding. I have been through some shit this past hour, and would be greatly relieved by some blatant honesty instead of well cushioned barbs and dismissals. If my ethnicity offends you, say it.”
You stopped laughing and looked at me strangely. You started to defend him, but I waved you down. “Well, it’s just…” Some of his retinue smirked in knowledge. Others took umbrance at my aggression. “Not many of your kind have shown a sincere desire for the Work, only the material results that are never guaranteed. So I must vet all, carefully.”
“My kind? And pray tell what is my kind, Good Sir?” I did bow this time. A mocking gesture. “Is it my skin, my gender, or my accent that marks me as unworthy of even listening to your educated and multisyllabic pontifications? Is it my assumed socioeconomic status that precludes me? Or are you concerned that I will take just enough of your teachings to properly bastardize them, and create a whole new Miss Cleo that claims to be of your esoteric lineage and by doing so, sully it so only Llewellyn will publish you? Do elaborate, Good Sir! What is my kind, and what is it that has offended you even before you heard a single word from my mouth!”
You stood there with your mouth agape. I could see the conflict in your face. You knew my anger was justified, but you could not believe that your idol was a cause of it. This was the first time you have seen, in person, how everyone is equal in the wixen community, but some people were more equal than others.
“If you must know… if you think you can bear it… it is not your skin, nor your gender. Your accent is clear, and your voice is strong which is necessary for spoken evocations. It is your education, my dear. Or rather, your lack of it. I have not the time to teach you what is necessary to even begin to understand what I teach.” He spoke slowly and clearly. Not to be patronizing to me, but to carefully word his answer so that his acolytes would find no fault in him.
“Then tell me what is necessary, and I shall learn on my own.”
He blinked. It was a demand he was not prepared for. “You… can’t.”
“Why?” We had accumulated an audience. Some were taking notes for later blog posts.
“You don’t have… the resources.”
“Bullshit. There has never been a time in human history, when written resources were not more available. Granted, some will require bending legal boundaries to obtain, but it is all there! So! Tell me! What is the bare minimum required to do the Great Work!”
“The works of antiquity were written in Greek and Latin. You’ll have to learn those languages to understand the nuances.” He authoritatively nodded.
“And, also in Aramaic, Farsi, Hebrew, and Egyptian, both pre-Ptolemy and after. Language courses for each are available. Nothing like jumping in the deep end. Oh, and I should also learn Yiddish, German, French, Old English, and Italian, since the commentaries in the ages between then and now are just as valuable! What else!”
“You’ll need certain tools, made of certain materials, which are hard to get and often come at a premium.” He was showing signs of being greatly antagonized.
“You mean I have to spend money to buy expensive things like gold, silver, copper, precious jewels, and then hire a craftsman to make things from it if I can’t do it myself. Because certain magics require certain substances. Oh, and that also means having rooms dedicated to magical workings, right? And then there is the incense and the washes and all the supportive substances, things, and blocks of dedicated time that go into making a personal temple.”
“Ah. Yes. You understand.” He smiled at me for the first time.
“I understand the light of the One can not be filtered or obstructed by anything physical if it is the Will of the One to work in the person’s life. Or are you saying that those celebrated individuals that became ascetic wanderers were charlatans because they have none of these things?”
His smile faded. “That was an earlier time.”
“Quit dodging the question. If you think I am too simple minded to process the answer, I am sure those around you will be glad to explain it to me in single syllables. What is your offense with me?”
He started to take a breath to speak, but I cut him off with a wave. “Nevermind. Don’t answer. The company you keep has already spoken louder than any twist of words you will try to cover your ass with. See how they spit in my direction and throw elf darts to prick me into leaving your gracious and patient company.” I bowed a final time. “I looked up to you. And followed your blog in silence, hoping to pick up the crumbs that fell from the master’s table. I understand now why those crumbs were so unsatisfying and illusionary in substance. The food you served in those words were empty and stripped of anything that would allow the reader to progress independently of you.”
I turned away so I wouldn’t have to face you as I left. I did not want to see you trying to choose who to call friend in the aftermath of the confrontation. History has repeated itself again, and I knew you would not be my acquaintance after this day. When it comes to conflict between the popular and myself, I am never chosen.
The audience parted to let me pass untouched. Their entertainment now ceased, they fell back to bragging about how inclusive they are and how much I would be welcome among their number if I were only to ask. And once I saw how loving and generous their expression is, surely I would drop my hostility inherited from my well-beaten bloodline and embrace their pure religions instead of this mish-mash I have cloaked myself in.
You called my name. I stopped walking. You started to apologize. I’ve heard these words before. I shook my head. Without looking back, I told you to return to the fold that you know. If that is the path that you want, best to cut ties to me now before you are seen as an influenced agitator.
I hear you turn and start to walk away. Your footsteps increase in speed as you start to run.
History repeats itself.
I exit the dream. Alone.
I need some coffee.