IBARW: this is my life. this is a white lie. this is why you fight.
I did not intend to make this post.
This is not a post about fun things, or good things, although it should be: I am so fucking honored that eid_ka_chand wants me to do art for their month o' Ramadan character-spam, I cannot tell you. I'm kind of floating on vibes of pure awesome right now.
Which is why I made the mistake of telling my mother "Yeah, I've got an invite to do art for this fan comm for Muslim characters in fiction during the month of Ramadan, it's totally awesome!"
Naturally, she wants me to be careful it's not some sort of clever attempt at brainwashing me into converting to Islam and/or a sekrit terrorist front.
What I said was: "It's just for fun."
What I wanted to say was: "Get the fuck out, I can't believe you'd even say that."
But I don't have the relationship with my mom where I can say that and she'd listen.
A conversation between two of my friends at the local Chinese restaurant, two days ago:
"Of course you like noodles, Chris, you're Asian."
"Actually, you know, since I'm Korean, if I had a stereotypical food I liked to eat, it'd probably be kimchi. But I've never even tried it. I think it'd make my mouth explode."
It's not in the past, in history, where it can't touch anyone, and is only an ache like some people have when it rains; it's here, all around us, every day. It is all-pervasive, it is slick, it is larger than life and bigger than the Beatles.
It is white boys in doo-rags listening to Geto Boyz and thinking they know shit. It is a convention attended mostly by Americans that proudly claims it is the "Convention of Otaku Generation" (sic). It is "why are all those anime characters white?" It is "black people on book covers don't sell". It is THE BOONDOCKS disappearing from the funny pages because people "didn't like its tone". It is nobody batting an eye at Illinois Nazis while Barack Obama has to answer for the mistakes of Louis Farrakhan. It is people finding SIXTEEN CANDLES funny.
It is all those little white lies, told every hour of every damn day, solidifying into a malignant cancer of the conscience.
And sometimes the best we can do to fight it is to sit down at a computer and type words into a little box, and hope that someone else sees them, and knows what we're talking about, or will learn.
The best we can do is exactly what we have to do. Cancer doesn't die by ignoring it. You have to kill it. So we have to kill the lies. Open our mouths. Put fingers to keyboards, like horses on battlefields, and change the world with words, one line at a time, one voice at a time, one listener at a time.