Hispanic Fanatic

Remember on Seinfeld, when one of the characters (usually Elaine) would get all freaked out over some minor slight? Much of that show’s comedy flowed from conniptions over mild social transgressions, such as neglecting to send a thank-you card or issuing improper credit for the big salad or speaking too close to one’s face.

Well, you’ll be delighted to know that such petty behaviors have their own sociological term, but only if they are directed at ethnic minorities.

In such cases, they are called acts of racial microaggression, and they are “brief and commonplace daily verbal, behavioral, or environmental indignities, whether intentional or unintentional, that communicate hostile, derogatory, or negative racial slights and insults toward people of color.”

Microaggression is what occurs when security guards follow black people around stores, or an Asian American is told he speaks English well, or a Latino is mistaken for a day laborer. It’s the little things, subtle behaviors that a person may not even notice — unless they are directed at you.

In its nuances, microaggression is different from some racist nut screaming epithets and yelling at us to get out of the country (I believe that would be considered bugfuck macroaggression, technically speaking).

There are also microinsults and microinvalidation, and the truly alarming concept of microassault. I assume that last one involves bigots with tiny fists.

Just about any ethic minority can give examples of microaggression from his or her own life. These are moments when we are told (not overtly, of course) that we don’t belong.

The existence of this concept is undeniable. But does that mean racial microaggression has any real power? In other words, is this a real problem, the infamous death by a thousand cuts, or is it just fancied-up whining?

An argument can be made that, yes, a person repeatedly subjected to innuendo and between-the-lines insults will soon believe that he or she is inferior. But one could also say that such jabs are too weak, even when accumulated, to do any lasting damage.

I would be interested to know if anyone has done any research on the real-world effects of this phenomenon. I would also like to know if people who indulge in racial microaggression are accidental racists.

In any case, the punishment for such behavior could not be clearer, nor more severe.

That’s right: No soup for you.

I can still recite the Boy Scout Oath.

Those words, along with various patriotic slogans and wilderness-survival tips, were instilled in me during my early teens, when I was part of a scout troop at my local church.

I didn’t know it at the time, but the troop was an attempt by community leaders to nurture “at-risk youth,” that euphemistic term for minority and/or low-income kids.

Indeed, most of my fellow scouts were Latinos with brothers in gangs, or parents on welfare. They were sinewy pre-adolescents with insouciant attitudes and a willingness to start a brawl.

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It’s dangerous, not to mention intellectually dishonest, to insist that any racial or ethnic group has specific likes or dislikes. After all, in today’s multiracial society, it’s often debatable who is or isn’t a member of a certain group. And let’s not forget that such assertions, even well-meaning ones, open up the door to stereotyping.

But like most dangerous and/or offensive things, it’s also a lot of fun to do.

Recently, the good people at OK Trends did a little analysis on people who joined a dating website. The researchers looked at over a half-million individuals and divided them into groups by their self-stated race or ethnicity. The authors then “isolated the words and phrases that made each racial group’s essays statistically distinct” and posted the results.

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With all the recent love that has been extended to immigrants (really, it’s been nonstop kisses and flowers), one could be forgiven for believing that hate groups in America are on the decline.

However, a recent report from the Southern Poverty Law Center says that the number of hate groups increased just a little — 244 percent — over the previous year. Now, this intimidating statistic provokes a natural question: What is the definition of a hate group?

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I recently wrote about self-loathing among immigrants and among Latinos in general.

That got me thinking about my own insecurities. Yes, I have a couple, believe it or not. One of them relates to this website.

As I’ve stated before, and in the interest of full disclosure, I’m not 100 percent Latino. I’m half Hispanic, through my mother’s side. That side is, of course, fanatical – hence the blog.

I’m also one-quarter Italian, which comes out when I talk (my hands never stop moving). The Irish quarter in me comes out… I don’t know… whenever I feel the urge to drink strong whiskey, I guess.

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It was right before the drunk woman vomited on my shoes.

My wife and I were with some friends at a street festival, listening to a crazed indie-rock band. I noticed the inebriated woman, a total stranger, swaying next to me.

But I was more interested in a group of cops who were policing the event. They stood off to the side, laughing among themselves. I’m guessing they thought it was a pretty cushy assignment.

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I recently became engrossed in a writer’s account of the search for his ethnic roots. Joe Mozingo, a white man, chronicled the reverse “Roots” saga of discovering that his original ancestor in America was black.

Mozingo tracked down several extended relatives, few of whom he had ever met or had anything in common with, and noted their often torturous explanations of the family name and history. Most had no clue what their ethnicity was, and simply guessed “Italian” if the subject ever came up (which was rare).

Of course, it’s funny to read about the contemporary Southern redneck who, far from being an emblem of racial purity, is actually the descendent of a Bantu immigrant. Wait, it’s not just funny – it’s fucking hilarious.

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Hey, I’ve got a great idea. Let’s bring up that whole “What is racism?” discussion again. That’s always good for a few laughs. And nobody ever gets riled up to fight.

Yes, one of my recent posts brought in more critical comments and hate mail than usual. In it, I expressed my opinion that racism requires bigotry plus power. As such, in America, white people can be racist, while ethnic minorities don’t have the cultural potency to express pure racism.

Of course, I didn’t come up with this definition. It’s been around for years, and millions of people agree with it. In all likelihood, millions more disagree with it.

When I wrote the post, this definition of racism wasn’t even my main point, nor did I think it would garner more than a few derisive comments. As such, I was surprised when so many people lashed out, repeatedly. It was a rare moment of naivety on my part.

I addressed the fallout in this post, but I have to add a couple of points.

First, we have to acknowledge our different perspectives. As I’ve written before, calling a white person a racist is about the worst insult that can be leveled at them.

For this reason, it is in the white person’s interest to believe that this derogatory term is not reserved solely for them. It lessens the sting if anybody can be racist. Conversely, it’s in the ethnic minority’s interest to say, “You’re not pinning yet another horrible label on me; that one is all about you.”

Second, and on a more personal level, I still believe that most of the people who disagreed with me have sincere and principled arguments. However, it was impossible to miss a creepy subtext within a tiny minority of attack missives.

Clearly, some individuals were not used to having their opinions questioned, and grew quite irritated at my refusal to say, “OK, you win.” I can only assume that they have some degree of cultural power, and they need others to acknowledge that.

I can only ponder why that is.

I recently spoke to my old friend the Bitca. At one point, we talked about my writing.

She said, “Your blog doesn’t need a button that says, ‘Like.’ You need a button that says, ‘You really fucking did it now.’ I would have clicked that button.”

Then she laughed.

She was talking about one of my recent posts, which irked more than a few people over on the Change.org site.

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Damn it,  I thought we were unique. Well, maybe not unique, but I certainly thought we were less ordinary.

You see, my wife and I have been married for thirteen years. I’m Latino, and she is white.

This combination is, according to a recent study, the most common form of interracial marriage. And now that I think of it, three of my cousins also have white spouses. How cliché can you get?

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