coldhearted scientist وداد

As I learned to speak, I also learned to associate with ‘Anglo’ culture coldness, a strange and perverse taste for histrionics, unnecessary drama, and a rampant disrespect for other beings. At the same time I associated the other culture we had in evidence, a Mexican one, with warmth, expressiveness, respect, and poise. These are stereotypes. Still, of these two sets of qualities, regardless of where they ‘belong’ culturally, I chose the second long ago.

This has always made it difficult for some ‘Anglos,’ and for whitemen in general, to intepret me. What they call feeling, I call hysteria. What they call coldness and intellectualism, I call tranquillity and art. However, if anyone would like to learn how to feel strong feelings and yet still speak in prose, I can show you how to meditate.

I am a daughter of Iansan, and she is a warrior. My common name is derived from those of two other warrior figures: El Delegado Cero/Subcomandante Marcos, and El/La Comandante Cero, who has taken on many human shapes. My image is a detail from the Casa de la Muerte in Copán.

I write here in memory of Paulo Freire. That is an allusion of a poetic nature. I do not mean to suggest that I believe I am Paulo Freire, or that I want to appropriate Freire’s work to Anglo-American academia. I am writing, for instance, in memory of the child who went to class hungry, but well dressed. Money could not be borrowed for food, because then credit would not be extended to pay rent. That child was Paulo Freire, whom among many other people, I place above my head.

This post has been a ritual, and now it is a talisman. This weblog is now clean. However, you have been warned. If one more Anglo motherfucker – and remember, whitemen come in every class, gender and color – if one more well-fed Anglo motherfucker comes over here to whine, and to teach me, for the first time, about how I have class privilege (DUH!), white privilege (DUH!), and for that matter American Citizen Privilege (DUH! – although our stock is sinking), or if they want to lead me to discover, for the first time, my ‘true emotions’ (DO YOU REALIZE HOW HACKNEYED THAT LINE IS?), what I will say is not “Yes, yes! Fuck me! Faster! Harder!” Neither will I exercise diplomacy, as I have been doing over the past few days, for extra-special reasons. What I will do is blast him, and/or her. Their collective dick will fall so far down below the floorboards, they will never again be able to find it.

Axé.