Another Saturday ramble

Of the myriad ongoing internet think-piece wars--for example, here's why millennials are useless vs. stop calling millennials useless--I'm going to unironically talk about the two solipsistic ones: (1) are selfies a sign of the self-absorbed apocalypse vs. why do people have such a problem with selfies?

thinking your "thinkpiece" on selfies in 2015 has anything to say is actually way more self-involved than taking a picture of yourself.

— simon (@stillwellgray) August 14, 2015

(2) when a writer inserts herself into a story not about her (eg., about a conflict or a phenomenon), is it healthy or unnecessary? Just kidding; I have nothing to say about selfies (except 'why not') and everything to say about how it's natural to tell a story or explore an issue from your own perspective. Which is not to say that you shouldn't be careful about centering yourself in a story about a race, gender, or religion that's not yours--unless you should, because I'm about to.

Specifically, I'm going to talk about Islamophobia and anti-immigrant sentiment. It horrified me after 9/11 and it horrifies me now--and it horrifies me beyond a theoretical, academic level. It horrifies me even beyond the concept that 'Jews should be especially horrified about discrimination,' even though we certainly should (see Jews are uniquely positioned to stand up against Islamophobia (Twitter link should get you around the paywall)). As should every American, as an American. But it horrifies me in my bones, because I've been there.

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I went speed-dating last night, and you know I never come back from speed-dating without a story or two. In fact, I think the story last time was the (American) guy who tried to ask me where I was from without asking me where I was from. This time, a Latvian dude proceeded to mansplain the former Soviet Union to me. Without an inkling that, maybe, that was unnecessary. Ironically, the next guy, who was Russian, asked me where I was from the minute he sat down--and he didn't mean 'where in the United States.' He meant--because he then said--'your name is Russian' and you could tell he was thinking, you look somewhat Russian. So I told him, and we chatted in Russian for the five minutes.

There are people--mostly foreigners, and not just Eastern European ones--who can tell that I'm not from around here. I've had (separately) a Pakistani and a Haitian stop me in the street to ask me where I'm from, because they can tell I'm foreign. I've had a Kazakh ask me the same, though in a less random context. Conversely, there are people who have a hard time grasping the idea that I could be Russian, because I don't conform to their stereotypes. I've told you about the generally awful date where the dude--who knew I spoke Russian--told me he liked the Russian language but hated the people and culture. There are people who won't entertain the possibility that I--accentless and somewhat westernized--am from somewhere they consider so foreign.

It didn't always used to be this way--in that, as a child, maybe up through high school, I screamed immigrant. I've acknowledged before that, being white, I have the luxury of being perceived as more American, and I'm aware that the evolution of my appearance was a choice that not everyone would want to make or could make if she wanted to (and above all, I don't think anyone should have to). And looking less immigrant-y is not really the point. The point is, things change.

Just as the Japanese are no longer the brunt of xenophobic sentiment, there will come a time when we'll look back on today's Islamophobia with shame. I grew up as a Russian immigrant during the Cold War and the xenophobia was palpable. Now, we're just exotic and obnoxious, but nobody cares. I'm not telling anyone to get over it--in fact, I'm saying I know it stings. I know it's especially hard as a kid. But what I'm really saying is, it gets better.