Trying to figure out how I feel...

Near the end of February, many places around the world celebrate Carnival season. Carnival comes in all forms but for the most part, it is a celebration filled with intensely decorated floats, dancers, loud music and beautiful costumes. Spain is no different and each city seemingly has it's parade of colorful processions to fill even the narrowest of streets. But depending on the town will directly affect the grandness of the displays for your eyes' enjoyment.

Point in case is the parade in Tossa compared to the one in say...Barcelona. Of course with more of a base of citizens, there is more competition, more creative and grander ideas. Several groups enter for a chance at winning an award or something but i am not quite sure.

This year, not to be taken off guard, I decided to capture pictures, being this is my second time experiencing tossa's precession and parked myself in a grand location. There are 3 main roads in and out of Tossa and we live on one of them. I cannot tell you what we give up in noise agitation for the ability to be ear civilization and avoiding parking on smaller narrower streets. i sorta feel like I live on Broadway rather than off, but in Tossa that is not saying much. Still we live right on the cusp of nothing but residential area, so if we do get a drunken tourist, they quickly realize that the fading ambient night lights of local businesses are behind them and there is nothing more than ...well nothingness that lies ahead on this slightly inclined passage way to ...well ...no where! Sadly, in front of my apartment they seem to realize this, debate loudly just below my open window allowing , not only the cool and refreshing night air on a warm summer's night, but their incomprehensible babble of how small this town is and there was nothing to do. hey I have something for you to do, turn around, go back to where you came from and drink some more!

Still my luck does seem to present itself on certain occasions throughout the year. Being that this is one of the main arteries thru the town, we enjoy seeing local bike races (think Lance Armstrong) and other parades past my window seal. I pretty much have a nice view without leaving my balcony. The road also slightly curves away from our window so we can see a procession heading toward us and then past us, giving us a somewhat more complete view than just standing roadside. And since this is February we are speaking about, Carme and Alex, with blankets in tow, decided to stay put and out of the winds to enjoy the music and sights from an elevated position. The only thing to bother your view are the Magnolia trees with their large waxy leaves that never fall but don't allow much of a view of the opposite side of the street.

I, on the other hand, decided to perch myself in a prime spot, just after the bend in the road, in the median, to catch the procession head on and then slightly turning away from me to pass, giving me good chances at taking photos. I am no where near the level talents of my friend Stephanie Tu (well she is Kit's wife, so I guess I inherited her as a friend) when it comes to photography, so I just had to wing it with my Lumix lens handy dandy camera.

Just as I took up my spot, I hear the thumping of music coming around the corner and the parade had begun.

I will not bore you with descriptions of each float and how they made me feel or their choreography...but I will make mention of one float in particular. I, sadly, did not get many pictures and i will go into the reason once I get into the idea of this float, but nonetheless, I was shocked and in awe.

Picture this, 40 or so walking dancers, all with brown makeup covering their natural skin, all wearing cartoonish sized curly wigs in black and the kinda brown color when you see a African American woman, who decided to go Blond, like Pamela Anderson. Not quite Blond, more of an auburn color, you know. They were all wearing purple robes with a gold V running down from each shoulder and meeting somewhere below the abdomen. They were jumping and clapping and smiling. In the background was Aretha Franklin playing. In it's slow march, they played a second Aretha song so I am not sure if they had real Gospel music or just thought that was the ultimate Gospel.

My jaw dropped.

So I politely walked cross the street towards my apartment, walking the extra few steps to get a clear view of my wife on the other side of the Magnolia tree, and just to put my hands up as to say, "What the fuck are they doing?". I noticed a smile on my wife's face as she expected me to come to her and give her that look. We have been married too long so i need to switch it up on her but i will save that for another day.

So I turn back to the parade and head back to my perch in anticipation of seeing this plate of hot mess pass before me. I remember swallowing hard and trying to sort thru my initial gut feelings. It is almost impossible to explain this to my new found friends here in Spain. Somehow I try but i am not sure they get it or if I do the story justice in my limited vocabulary. I can't explain Al Jolson, Jim Crow, Reconstruction, lunch counter sit ins, J.J. Evans (does any one know the real reason why the father on "Good Times " left after the first first season or two...I do...ask me if you want to know), Al Sharpton, Malcolm X, segregation, the grandfather clause, poll tax, 3/5 compromise and so forth. Black face is just a small part of the stained (no pun intended) history that built America. Many things attribute to the powder keg that is America that exploded in the 1960's.

Ok I need to put this in perspective. Actually my wife did her best to do so. You see she was trying to explain to me that this was more of a honor than an insult. America is known for many things and one particular thing are the churches. here in Spain, like most "white" churches in America, the sermon is boring and calm which makes it seem more drawn out and excruciating. I grew up in souther baptist churches filled with a sweaty preacher, due to lack of AC and from his animated delivery of the word of God, soulful choir in beautiful robes, all swaying in perfect time to the music and an equally animated congregation. Also it is a testament to the wonderful singers in the choir. but come on, the hair just makes it a bit cartoonish.

Carme then explained to me her first few months in America, seeking out this imagery she had only seen in movies like "The Preacher's Wife" staring Whitney Houston. She told me of when her friend Rosa came to visit and both sought out Gospel churches in the yellow pages and running across a tame show at a church in Carytown which promoted itself as a Gospel church. later did explain to her that the word gospel is a bit more inclusive and does nto paint the picture she found out to be so untrue.

Still, there is a source of my proverbial ulcer that appeared as soon as I got off the plane when I first moved here and slowly is subsiding (although on some bad days I can still feel the growing and nagging of it). this ulcer is the inability to fully express myself when i want. I cannot tell jokes or explain my emotions to the masses here. i don't want to offend anyone or paint an inaccurate picture so I dare not attempt at this stage as I can only do it accurately in English. But i did attempt with a friend who understand English to a point.

The images I tend to b weary of is portraying Blacks to be servants, stupid, ape like or violent. I remember cringing at every newcast of a Black man robbing a liquor stor and the description that followed. He is a Black male, with short hair, white tee, blue jeans, between 5'6" and 6'2", 150 to 180 lbs, etc. Just in general, i kept my butt in the house out of fear of being fingered and having to pass off some alibi. Images of Al Jolson haunt most African Americans to this day. Hard to find humor for most of us in someone trying to imitate our being, culture or mannerisms, whether accurate or not.

But one thing that i have come to realize about this area of Spain, they are secluded in many ways. Sure they watch American movies and television shows but nothing beats living in a language and experiencing it for yourself. Things always get lost in translation. But this area of Spain has never experienced the long standing issues of America beginning with slavery, emancipation, KKK, Civil Rights, separate but equal, separate facilities, lunch counters,etc. Catalunya, like Spain, has been pretty much a closed society. Having lived thru their own modern day civil war and cultural clashes, they have ha not time to focus on the rest of the world and their issues. Their focus is on gaining autonomy from the Spanish government and that takes time.

Now with the economy growing, there is a bit of "catch up" Spain is experiencing. New ideas are trickling in as more European and American businesses are looking t o invest within their borders to be true global presences. Still the old ideals and beliefs reign supreme here. Most darker skinned people I have seen work in labor jobs and not in a suit and tie. I am thrown off by inheriting the life long friends of my wife to think that all Spaniards will accept me as one. all the people in my soccer club are Catalan and a few Spaniards, but i am the only American, with a few Brits who have one Spanish or Catalan parent and have lived here all their lives. I used those kids to explain things that I cannot but still I am not sure I am being served well by their translation skills. So i try to keep it short and not as intense as I would like.

So is Spain a racist society? That I have always never felt comfortable answering. To call a society in whole as racist like the Nazi's against Jewish people...no it does not compare. it does not compare to ethnic cleasing. No it does not compare to creating a system of oppression like outh Africa or america at one time. But instead i am convinced that there are just some people, in any society, who just can't get comfortable of people who are different as a whole. be it a different language or skin color or continent, all people are this way in some form or not, and when you characterize a whole culture as being anti something, it just sends too strong of a message. I have had some older women look at me twice when passing, with blank looks or suspecting looks, but i would get that at home from an older Black woman. I have had strangers come up and start a conversation but I am more than likely to get that in a souther state, you know how nice us southerners are. i have traveled over a pretty good sized area surrounding Tossa with my soccer team and be it we are the opposing teams, the other coaches and staff are more than nice.

So how do i feel about this display? is it racist...no I don't think so. Does it strike a cord within me, sure it does, hard to deny my history and my family's history and feelings. is it worth returning Rev. Al Sharpton's phone calls about stagging a protest...? Ha ha. just a thought but a funny one.