we may never touch queerness, but we can feel it as the warm illumination of a horizon imbued with potentiality….the future is queerness’ domain. queerness is a structuring and educated mode of desiring that allows us to see the future beyond the quagmire of the present….we must dream and enact new and better pleasures, other ways of being in the world, and ultimately new worlds….queerness is essentially about the rejection of a here and now and an insistence on potentiality or concrete possibility for another world.
—josé esteban muñoz, ultimate dreamer, 1967-2013, in cruising utopia (via karaj)
Because I’m not. I am not Native Hawaiian (and neither are any of the people I know who use that word to refer to me or mixed race Asians), so it is not our word to claim.
I’m not Native Hawaiian, so I’m not trying to speak for them, but from what I understand, it is appropriative for non-Native Hawaiians to identify as hapa.
I stopped describing myself as hapa almost a year ago (when I realized how problematic it is for me to do so) and yet the word follows me around because people assume all mixed race Asians identify in that way.
My sister identifies strongly as hapa (even when I explained that it was culturally appropriative) and I think this makes it more difficult for me because she uses it to refer to herself and sometimes both of us (despite her knowing that I don’t like being identified as hapa).
Last night, she told our Filipino friend (who’s white wife is pregnant) that he’s going to have a hapa baby. I just can’t believe that this baby isn’t even born yet, but people like my sister are already giving them this appropriative identity.
So don’t call me hapa. I am fine with mixed race, multiracial, biracial, Filipino and white, etc. but don’t refer to me by a term that is appropriative of another marginalized group. And please, to other mixed race folks, if you aren’t part Native Hawaiian, don’t identify as hapa.
We say that we are in solidarity and that the movement is about empowering and changing the systems of oppression that hurt all marginalized people (POC, LGBT*Q folks, women, working people, etc.), so can this include not appropriating words that don’t belong to us?
I was not very long there until, like water, I found my own level. ‘My people’—the people who knew about oppression, discrimination, prejudice, poverty and the frustration and despair that they produce– were not Irish Americans. They were black, Puerto Ricans, Chicanos. And those who were supposed to be ‘my people’, the Irish Americans who knew about English misrule and the Famine and supported the civil rights movement at home, and knew that Partition and England were the cause of the problem, looked and sounded to me like Orangemen. They said exactly the same things about blacks that the loyalists said about us at home. In New York I was given the key to the city by the mayor, an honor not to be sneezed at. I gave it to the Black Panthers.
—Irish Civil Rights activist Bernadette Devlin McAliskey on her impressions of Irish-Americans—- (via xicanaxingona)