Flan.

There is something I just can't shake off of me about white people and their "love" of ethnic food. It just bothers me.

For our holiday party at work, everyone contributed dessert. I decided to make flan, since that and tres leches are probably my favorite desserts, and there is no way I am making tres leches. I have fond memories of flan and gelatina at family parties. Anyways, I made it, and the whole week leading up to the party people couldn't stop talking about it. "Oh my god, I'm so excited for your flan." At the party, it was a big hit. It was the first dessert to go. Person after person went up to me. "Your flan was soooo good!" "We all loved your flan!" etc etc. I like to cook, so I was flattered that people enjoyed my flan.

But also annoyed. I wanted to be like, "IT'S JUST CONDENSED MILK, EVAPORATED MILK, SUGAR, AND VANILLA PEOPLE!!!" Not to downplay flan or Mexican food or anything, but I just felt so...exoticized, I guess. Flan not that difficult to make, especially when you cheat and used canned milk products. True, it was a real Mexican making it, so I guess that's different than if any ordinary white person had made it. I just felt like it became a big show of "authentic" ethnic food. And that shit bothers me. When white people take food that people of color have been making for years and years and make it all "ethnic" and trendy and shit. Go find your own food, dammit!! I bet I could've served them the shittiest flan ever, and just talked it up and said it was "organic" and "local" (again not to diss organic and local, cuz I like to eat that shit too), and they would've lapped it up cuz they would've thought it was "authentic" flan made by an "authentic"mexican.

Sometimes, I feel like I want to protect Mexican food, my culture. I don't want to flaunt it just so white people can awe over it and make it trendy and think its cool and fun. Know what I mean?

For example, I was talking with a (white) friend of mine about how my family makes tamales for Christmas. (Duh...most Mexicans do, I think). "oooooooooo," she said. "Can we make some when you get back?" Uh....NO!! She wants ME to go to her house and show her and her HIPSTER (white) HOUSEMATES how to make TAMALES!? I don't think so!!!! Of course I didn't go out and say all THAT. I mean, first of all, I don't really know how to make tamales. I mean, I mostly help my mom spread the masa on the hojas. My mom buys the masa ya preparada. And she cooks the meat and stuff beforehand, on her own.

It would be a mission to make tamales here in Philadelphia. There is a small Mexican community in South Philly, but still. They're mostly from Puebla, I have no idea if their tamales are like the ones my family makes (my fam is from Jalisco). Where the hell would I buy masa preparada? Hojas? The tortilla maker/squisher? I'd have to call my mom and ask her how she makes the chiles and salsas for the meat...all that just so some white people can think they're all cool and brag to their friends about how they made HANDMADE tamales like real hipster DIY-ers that like to dabble in other cultures!? I don't think so!! And of course when I tell my friend about the hassle of ingredients, finding masa, etc, she's like, well we can make masa. I was like, WHAT!? Buy some masa harina and mix in the lard and all that shit? Who does that? I guess the real hardcore Mexicans do, but I have a feeling most Mexican women are like my mom, and work low-paying jobs for long hours and do not have time to MAKE their own MASA. They go to the store and buy it preparada! Its like white people trying to make "authentic"food even more "authentically" than real Mexicans by trying to PREPARE the freakin MASA!!

Not to mention that after these white people brag to their hipster friends about how they made "real" tamales last night, they'd all try to do it again and completely butcher the damn thing. Especially knowing my friend, who loves to substitute ingredients in a way that makes her meals taste damn awful. For some reason, its endearing when my mom attempts to make tamales with tofu or something like that, but if a white person tried to do that shit, or get creative by doing something else crazy like that, I'd be angry. And I'm not even a food purist. Its just the colonialist thinking behind it.

It reminds me of this post by Pachuco 3000 about gentrification. That's how I feel about food. I don't want white people to gentrify my food.

Also: best book EVER written on this topic: Exotic Appetites: Ruminations of a Food Adventurer. I think every white person should read this book. And brown person. Everyone should read this book!! Love it.

Also, a recent blog post on Racialicious about White American culture and Chinese food is really good and added fuel to my fire.

So yeah. I don't want to share. Sorry. I ate Mexican food and flan before it was trendy, and will eat it afterwards. I don't need white people to give it some added-value. But also, the reason I don't like sharing my culture with white people, is that I thinking sharing should be a two-way interaction. But white people THINK THEY DON'T HAVE ANYTHING TO SHARE. My other white friends gets a KICK out of telling this story about how I told her that I started eating hummus and wheatthins from living with her and two other white housemates. Why is that so funny? I was being completely serious. But she thinks its hilarious. White people, especially those that belong to the upper-middle-class, have a culture, but they think its normative. Well I got news for you. ITS ALL RELATIVE. I guess a fish doesn't realize its swimming in water, or however that saying goes. It really really REALLY bothers me. That's why I enjoy interacting with people of color/immigrants/travelers. At least they are aware of the cultural baggage they carry around, and that makes for a more equal exchange of culture, food, ideas, etc.

Thanks for letting me rant. Sorry for all the cuss words and caps.

It's an exciting time to be living in Philadelphia.

Last week, the city pulsed with excitement as the Phillies won the World Series. For years, Philly has been living with the curse that William Penn put on this city for building skyscrapers taller than his statue on City Hall. But in 2008, that curse was lifted and the city discovered a way to bury the bitterness of the past and be happy and celebrate.

The night the Phillies won, the entire city poured out onto the streets of Philadelphia. Chestnut & Broad St. was where the most people congregated, below the shadow of the majestic City Hall. Celebrations ensued, although as one could expect, before long the celebration became a drunken stupor with varying degrees of vandalism. Nevertheless, it was a good day for Philadelphia.

Fast forward.

Pennsylvania, despite it being a solidly blue state and with polls showing a pretty insurmountable lead for Barack Obama, is one of the key battleground states. We have been bombarded with TV ads. I'm sure that since March when I began volunteering with Obama's campaign, I have personally bombarded many citizens with voter registration pleas, volunteer recruitment phone calls, and door knocks. During the last week of his campaign, John McCain decided his only path to victory lay in PA, and began his final showdown. It seemed like a stretch, but having lived here for a little over a year, it was understandable. The people I call "Pennsylvanians" who live outside of the cities can be a scary bunch. And by scary, I mean racist and ignorant. All those appalling videos of McCain/Palin supporters outside of their rallies? Yeah, that was Pennsylvania.

And so the battle continued on.

On Tuesday, November 4, there was a certain sweetness in the air. It was like Christmas. I cannot tell you how many people told me they woke up early with anticipation, like it was Christmas day. The first thing they did was go to the polls and vote. Everyone wore their Obama pins. The air was thick with anticipation and giddiness. I myself was nerv-y. Anxious, excited, nervous....it seemed that at some point of each day for the past year, my eyes would well up and my throat would start to close at the thought of what was possible. At the thought of what could happen on November 4.

At work, I was delighted to see Mayor Nutter drive by my building several times in a huge flatbed cattle truck. That guy is nuts. The truck was filled with Obama supporters and had huge Obama/Biden banners on its the sides. It drove through the streets of Center City, blasting techno music, while Mayor Nutter said ridiculous things into the microphone to encourage everyone to go out and vote. It was the funniest thing ever, and gave everyone wide smiles and cheers.

After work, I headed out to my canvassing station, where my BF and I completed two turfs before the polls closed at 8PM. I had not yet eaten dinner and probably walked quite a few miles. The skies had released some droplets, a light drizzle. Most everyone I spoke to were Obama supporters who had voted early that morning.

After our work was done, we headed back to the office, where we immediately learned that Obama had won Pennsylvania. All our hard work for the past year had paid off.

We took the train back home, only to change and leave to the Philadelphia Weekly's election party at Sole Food, located inside the Loews Hotel in Center City. Inside, it looked like it was a Saturday night. The bar was busy, the DJ was spinning music, and flat screens everywhere were playing CNN election night results. I bought my friends a round of beers. Everyone was in good spirits. Virginia was announced for Barack. We cheered. And as the clock inched to closer to 11PM, which was the time the polls on the west coast closed, we inched closer and closer to the flat screen.

The countdown to 11PM begun. "10...9...8..7..6..5...4..3...2..1!!!!!!!" It felt like New Year's Eve as we cheered. And then, to our amazement, before our very eyes, the screen flashed: "Projected winner: Barack Obama." Our cheers for the closing of the West Coast polls quickly became a roar as we realized that Barack Obama had just been elected President of the United-Freakin'-States. It is difficult to describe the beauty of the scene. Mostly young twenty somethings, politically engaged, embracing each other, and in complete disbelief. That was me. Complete disbelief. It all happened so fast. Although we knew Obama was doing well, I don't think any of expected to know at 11PM EST that Obama would be be our next President. I mean, sure, it makes sense. California, Washington, and Oregon would give him enough electoral votes to put him over the top. He had already won Pennsylvania and Ohio. But I think that people of my age, given the trauma of 2000 and 2004, did not expect a win this quickly. This...easily.

Let me clarify. It was difficult. Million of people out their worked their butts off, volunteering for Obama. They called voters and knocked on countless doors. They parted with hard-earned portions of their paychecks to a cause greater than themselves. It was hard, difficult, nervewracking work. I have many friends and colleagues who worked with the campaign, both as paid staff and as full-time staff, and let me tell you, I hope they get their lives back soon. They need to sleep. They need to eat nutritious food. They need to be able to see their family and friends again after living and breathing precincts and voter registration and voter lists for the past several months.

But what this election proved to me was the strength of our democracy. For the reins of power to be transferred from one group of people to another so nonviolently is truly a testament to our nation. It absolutely stuns me. The right to vote, to choose our leaders in a civilized manner, should never be taken for granted. Think of Zimbabwe earlier this year and the violence that ensued after a leader earned enough votes to make him the winner. People around the world have been killed because of their political allegiances, have been forced with a gun to their head to cast a ballot for someone other than their preference. All for the bloodthirst of political power. And yet, in this nation, despite the electoral traumas of 2000 and 2004, after the Civil Rights struggle, after women earned the right to vote, I was stunned by the beauty of our democracy. By our ability to engage in politics without needing to fear for our lives. By our...freedom.

As we hear reports of how Barack Obama's win is being celebrated by people around the world, I think that is what they feel. The US has long promoted itself as the nation of freedom, as the beacon of democracy, and although we have strayed from our elementary values many times, that is still how we would like others to view us. As exceptional. Exceptionalism runs strong in America, it always has, it still does. But, just for a night, I was okay with that. I know the road ahead will be difficult. I know that a Barack Obama win will not magically change the course of our nation overnight. I know that. But just for a night, I wanted to bask in the pure adulation of being an American. I can only imagine that this is a fraction of the joy that South Africans felt when the nightmare of apartheid was over and they elected Nelson Mandela as president of South Africa.

After the cheers inside Sole Food subsided abit, but with our adrenaline still pumping, we decided to take it to the streets. We walked over the Chestnut & Broad St., Philadelphia's favorite gathering place. We weren't the only ones with that idea. A crowd had gathered near City Hall, all the cars passing by honked their horns in support. Smiles as wide as I've ever seen them in Philadelphia. Pure joy. I did not detect an air of vandalism like the kind that took over the World Series celebration. We celebrated with our fellow citizens until it was nearly midnight. We headed back to Sole Food to be sure to watch Obama's speech. We walked in to find everyone dancing the Electric Slide, and we joined in with merriment. Black, white, brown, young, old. We took to other dances, the Cupid Shuffle, we were ecstatic.

Then, the music cut off and the cheers rose up as we watched Barack walk out with Michelle and his daughters on the flat screens.

I never knew it was possible to be so quiet inside what had seconds before been a raucous bar. Anyone who dared speak was quickly shushed. We listened to Obama tell us that this is the only the beginning. That we have a lot of work ahead of us. And frankly, I still couldn't believe it. I had always thought that this moment would bring tears, but my eyes were dry. It still hadn't hit me.

After his speech, we joined the (much larger) crowd that had gathered in the streets outside for an impromptu march to Independence Hall, where we creatively chanted as many three syllable chants that we could think of: "Yes we can!", "Yes we did!", "O-ba-ma!", "No more Bush!" "U-S-A!" and "No more war!". At Independence Hall, people began to sing the Star Spangled Banner. Then we marched back to Broad St. where an even larger crowd was gathered. People were standing and cheering on top of newspaper stands and cars. The atmosphere was jubilant.

I thought it was interesting that although at times it seems that Independence Hall is irrelevant to Philly and exists only in its past, that it still retains such symbolic value for a group of mostly 18-30 year olds.

We did it. I don't know how we did it, I can't believe we did it, but we did it.

As the LA Times reports,

In other countries ruled by unelected or autocratic regimes, people marveled at the resilience of American democracy, its capacity for change and its stamina through an endless election season.

"Let me tell you that now I believe in American democracy," said Mostafa Eqbali, a merchant in the Iranian capital, Tehran. "Honestly, I did not think that Obama would be president. I thought that the invisible hands of the big trusts and cartels would not allow a black man to be president of the United States."

When my aunt from Mexico came to visit in May, she expressed something similar. She was excited at the prospects of a President Obama and surprised that I was a committed volunteer, but she said, "Do you really think he has a chance? Do you really think they'll let him win?" Who is they?, I asked. "Los que estan en poder," she answered. Those in power. Like all of us, she expressed concern for his safety. We all had this fear. Not just of for his safety, which is a fear that we all continue to have. Not that, but the fear that maybe, we couldn't recover our country. We couldn't hang on to democracy. That the last eight years had taken us down a long dark path with no return. That maybe, there really was no point in voting. No point in flexing your political muscle every couple years. That maybe, it didn't matter if Barack won because Republicans would steal the election.

Barack's victory proved us wrong. He was right. Americans are good and decent people, and we have not lost our way. We still have within us that revolutionary spirit that fanned that flames of the American Revolution, that compelled subsequent generations of Americans to fight for their rights, that fire that continues to fuel passions and ballot initiatives. We are still a democracy.

The Final Debate

As I watched the final debate between Senators Obama and McCain tonight, I decided to a little thought exercise, to write the words and associations that came to mind about each candidate throughout the course of the debate. Here is what I came up with:

Senator Obama

• genuine
• humble
• in control
• the adult
• issues
• gracious
• mature
• well written essay
• laughing!
• nuanced

Senator McCain

• emotional
• insincere
• cantankerous
• incoherent
• BS
• angry
• out of control
• petty
• bitter
• juvenile
• simplistic
• overdramatic
• liar
• White Male
  

Trying to do my part

Wow, its been a long time since I've posted anything. I've been kind of busy with life. Funny how when you are busy with the real, tangible world you have less time for the blogosphere world. Since the last post I have:

• Moved to West Philadelphia from my old apartment
• Starting working at a new job
• Been working as a Volunteer Coordinator for the Obama campaign

I got to see Michelle Obama yesterday...along with Jill Biden, Mayor Nutter, and Ed Rendell. That was pretty sweet. They had a campaign stop about a mile away from my house.

My bf gets home pretty late 3 nights out of the work week so I find myself catching up on blogs (I'm so busy at my new job I just can't keep up like I used to), calling volunteers, cooking...and thanks to some inspiration from Michelle yesterday, I've been calling up friends and family that I haven't spoken with in a long time to A) chat and B) make sure they are registered to vote.

Chiles Rellenos

I make some pretty good food sometimes. :)

Chiles rellenos with Pennsylvanian poblanos and Gouda cheese...slight alterations!

Chinatown bussin' it

I went up to NYC this weekend to visit friends. While I usually go up on the Chinatown bus, which can at times be hectic and scary (but an awesome deal at $20 roundtrip from Philly to NYC), this time I decided to check out one of the competitors, Megabus. Turns out all these other companies want to make a dent into the massive market the Chinatown buses have tapped into. While the bus was really nice, not crowded at all, with free Wi-Fi and everything, it arrived in Philly to pick us up almost an hour late. We bought tickets for the 3PM bus thinking we would have plenty of cushion time for the show in NYC at 7PM. We arrived in NYC after 7PM.!!!!!!!!! We spent 1 hour 1/2 trying to get through the Lincoln Tunnel. Granted, it was a Friday afternoon, but goddamn! I know I've gone on a Friday afternoon on the Chinatown bus before. God bless their hearts, I don't know how they do it, but Chinatown buses don't f*** around. They sure as hell know how to get you to your destination and back. 2 hours from Philly to New York. Okay, so maybe it has something to do with driving 75 mph on the New Jersey Turnpike...whatever. I just force myself to fall asleep so that I don't stare the window paralyzed in fear.

Anyways, we took the Chinatown bus back to Philly instead of Mega Slow Bus because really, we just needed to get our asses home. We powerwalked through NYC streets in the rain (an obstacle course to be sure that included dodging umbrellas) and made it just in time for the departing bus. As I sat there, content to be out of the rain and on my way back home out of the madness that is New York, I started thinking. Why is is that an area of a city that serves primarily Chinese immigrants and caters to their needs (Chinese restaurants and produce, Chinese hair salons) is given a name "Chinatown" and is often touted as an awesome part of the city, a place for tourists to go?

Why is it that an area of a city that caters to the needs of Latino immigrants (with taquerias and quincenera shops) or African Americans (hair braiding salons) are redlined as "ghettos" with no intrinsic value, as a blight not worth keeping around, as something to get rid of and gentrify? Why are those neighborhoods considered a bad thing? I doubt people look at Chinatowns that way. Instead, they see it as a unique community that is anchored in a particular place.

Just wondering.

I guess Chinatowns are not completely immune to this, if the original Chinatown in Los Angeles that was razed for what is now Union Station is any example. But it seems so much more rampant in other minority/immigrant communities. Take Broadway in Downtown LA and the plan to "revitalize" the area with new businesses. They are totally hating on the Latino businesses over there man.

A Taste of Home

It's a pain to try and find tostadas out here, since they are not stocked at most grocery stores, but I found some and made the perfect summer meal: tostadas de jaiba. YUM!