So much going on; my head is spinning. “Real life” threatens my singular focus on Mardi Gras.
As a teen, near Kapan, my mother’s nemesis was a boy named Jirayr. My mother was tall, wiry, independent and fierce (actually, she still is all of those things) and Jirayr was forever trying to put her “in her place,” which I assume means meek, subjective, and probably in love with him. Of course, my mother was only in love with Solin Duzian, the *daughter* of a local shepherd, and wasn’t aware of any young man on the planet other than the soft-spoken, admittedly beautiful, Poulon Angel, a constant tag-along who was, in turn, obsessed with and terrified by my intense, nutmeg-eyed, raven-haired mother-to-be.
Where was I going with this? Ah, yes.
So after forty-some years and the persuasive powers of Americanism, Jirayr and my mother no longer love to hate each other. As a matter of fact, when Jirayr’s son came out to him (yes, I have changed some names for this blog), Jirayr turned to my mom to help him sort out his feelings and figure out how they meshed with or didn’t mesh with their traditional Christian up-bringing. My mother, who to this day has a photo of (the adult) Solin on her dresser, was honored to provide a listening ear and speak about a Divine of love who refuses to be easily deciphered by human hands and minds.
Now Jirayr and his son have moved to Kitsap County in Washington State. They’re both American citizens and Jirayr’s son speaks flawless English, but, like me, and my parents, they are not white. Jirayr’s son has been unable to find a job. Is it his brown skin? Middle eastern name? Long hair? Is it the crummy economy? The weak retail market? Plain bad luck? I don’t know but the questions themselves have made me notice, made me hyper-aware, of the way people treat each other when they aren’t looking at a mirror image of themselves.
It stuns me the things people mutter under their breath or say out right. It’s disgusting. Are these ugly people even aware that they are bigots? Where is the fabled division of church and state, that whole reason this country was founded?
Today I worked in an industry (the gaming industry) where, to put it lightly, there aren’t a whole lot of brown women. (Any others?) I created mocks of the level up cards—like old time dance hall cards they’re signed by fellow players. Tomorrow, during two different work shifts, IDP staff will walk more play testers through the game (this time using the mocks which are new to the Starter Deck). I’m anticipating that all will go well but I’m nervous anyway.
In MG3K, race is not an issue. Terrapyres and Celestials come in all skin tones and orientations. Terrapyres and Celestials are above/beyond human racism and homophobia (yes, I consider those equally as heinous… go ahead and judge me, I’m cool with my God). I wish I could rewrite the rules of this world around me as easily as I update MG3K. I wish an intelligent, dedicated, well-spoken, handsome, brown-skinned young man could find a job in “rural” America, the great melting pot, at least a little easier than he might find (oh, I don’t know) the Holy Grail.
E.J.
