When my brother, Papin, came to the U.S in 1972, he was 15yrs old and did not speak English, had never been in a car, never experienced uninterrupted electricity, never experienced hot water, never seen a washing machine or dryer, never seen shag carpeting, never lived in a house with a television, never spoken to a white person, never had a venereal disease, and thought the crabs in his pants were pets. He also had never even been to Santo Domingo except when he went to the airport to fly out of the DR.
After arriving in Ohio in 72', he was immediately labeled an African American. Afros were the thing in 1972, but in the DR where he had arrived from, they were not. It took him sometime to acclimate, and it wasn't long before he was sporting a very enormous, ceiling reaching, lightning conducting Afro. By 17yrs of age, he was an extremely fit 220lbs boy, and everyone in high school enrolled him into sports--wrestling and football--in particular. He was enormous for 17yrs, but was not tall (he was 5'11), just extremely wide. He was the perfect running back.
When he arrived to Dayton,Ohio, he could not believe that people were not killing and eating all the migrating Canadian geese, ducks and turtles. He and my father would go hunting for dinner and bring back people's pet ducks, rabbits, and turtles, and any other pet that people were stupid enough to fatten up and leave unattended in their back yards. This was the early 70's. Our neighbors were horrified. My mother was horrified. They brought back pigs, Canadian geese, and any duck or eatable animal they came across; they would cook them in our back yard. My friends were shocked, our neighbors were shocked, and yet, here in the middle of an urban jungle, sat two Dominican hillbillies totally oblivious to what anyone thought about their eating and thieving habits.
People called my brother N1igger, Porch Monkey, Spear Chucker, Jungle Bunny...you name it. The labels were meaningless to him. Words never, ever offended him then, nor now. Occasionally, he would tell people, "I'm Dominican." People would stare blank at him. No one in Ohio had heard of the Dominican Republic in the early 70's.
For reasons no one really understood, he immediately took a liking to American Rock music. He loved Led Zeppelin, Santana, Rolling Stones, Steve Miller Band, Pink Floyd, etc. All of his friends were white, his girlfriends were white, my mom was white, and he regularly went to Rock concerts where he was the only black person--or one of the few black people in the audience. Needless to say, he stood out. Here, in front row, was a 220lbs -250lbs NFL looking black person who looked like a combination Jimi Hendrix & Jim Brown, standing in the front row smoking pot and playing air guitar. He was a total enigma, and people gravitated over to our house day and night to hang out with him. He brought so many crazy, bizarre, and absurd habits with him from the Dominican Republic that people were mesmerized by him.
Some of the habits he brought with him were these:
1. He grew up riding horses and mules (he never been a car until 72), so he would routinely jump over people's fences and "borrow" people's horses for the day. He would lasso them and ride them bareback. His white friends would come along and gaze in bewilderment at him---many of them had never been on a horse before; he would teach them how to ride. Girls loved it, and he used it as a way to get laid.
2. He had never driven a car until he reached 18yrs old in 1975. My father gave him a Ford Galaxy 500. He routinely took the car off-roading and came back with farmer's pigs, sheep, and anything else eatable that he 'Borrowed" from different farms around Ohio at night.
3. He loved fishing, and would spend days fishing in State parks where he fished "without a license." he would dress up in camouflage and fish until he either ran out of beer or bait...which ever came first. He would cook the fish right next to him and eat the fish while he continued to fish for days. He never understood why people were buying fish in supermarkets when they were everywhere waiting to be caught.
But the thing about brother is this: he never, ever got offended by derogatory names or phrases. One reason is because he could "not" identify with African Americans plight--and you will notice this is also true for almost all Hispanics--they do not identify with the sensitivities of black Americans. My brother's nick names of "Buckwheat" and "Tar-baby" are terms of endearment to him. People do not call him "Papin," ever--the name is too foreign sounding and no one can remember it--including his teachers, professors, and employers. My brother could never identify with anything African American. He dislikes R&B music, hates rap, and could never identify with many of the prevalent negative attitudes with many African Americans; he strongly dislikes any culture of "blame." While in the Army, he and his army buddies would go out and drink beer, chase women, raise hell, and listen to Rock music. He was in a rock band, and hence, always hung out with white people or latins because he loved their music.
In my book--The Sex Lives of Misfits--my brother is the "Rocketman" character. All of those crazy stories are about him and his life. He really is a math genius in the book whom came to University classes dressed in velvet Panchos that he made out of old discarded curtains. Oh, and he loves hallucinogens.
Frank
After arriving in Ohio in 72', he was immediately labeled an African American. Afros were the thing in 1972, but in the DR where he had arrived from, they were not. It took him sometime to acclimate, and it wasn't long before he was sporting a very enormous, ceiling reaching, lightning conducting Afro. By 17yrs of age, he was an extremely fit 220lbs boy, and everyone in high school enrolled him into sports--wrestling and football--in particular. He was enormous for 17yrs, but was not tall (he was 5'11), just extremely wide. He was the perfect running back.
When he arrived to Dayton,Ohio, he could not believe that people were not killing and eating all the migrating Canadian geese, ducks and turtles. He and my father would go hunting for dinner and bring back people's pet ducks, rabbits, and turtles, and any other pet that people were stupid enough to fatten up and leave unattended in their back yards. This was the early 70's. Our neighbors were horrified. My mother was horrified. They brought back pigs, Canadian geese, and any duck or eatable animal they came across; they would cook them in our back yard. My friends were shocked, our neighbors were shocked, and yet, here in the middle of an urban jungle, sat two Dominican hillbillies totally oblivious to what anyone thought about their eating and thieving habits.
People called my brother N1igger, Porch Monkey, Spear Chucker, Jungle Bunny...you name it. The labels were meaningless to him. Words never, ever offended him then, nor now. Occasionally, he would tell people, "I'm Dominican." People would stare blank at him. No one in Ohio had heard of the Dominican Republic in the early 70's.
For reasons no one really understood, he immediately took a liking to American Rock music. He loved Led Zeppelin, Santana, Rolling Stones, Steve Miller Band, Pink Floyd, etc. All of his friends were white, his girlfriends were white, my mom was white, and he regularly went to Rock concerts where he was the only black person--or one of the few black people in the audience. Needless to say, he stood out. Here, in front row, was a 220lbs -250lbs NFL looking black person who looked like a combination Jimi Hendrix & Jim Brown, standing in the front row smoking pot and playing air guitar. He was a total enigma, and people gravitated over to our house day and night to hang out with him. He brought so many crazy, bizarre, and absurd habits with him from the Dominican Republic that people were mesmerized by him.
Some of the habits he brought with him were these:
1. He grew up riding horses and mules (he never been a car until 72), so he would routinely jump over people's fences and "borrow" people's horses for the day. He would lasso them and ride them bareback. His white friends would come along and gaze in bewilderment at him---many of them had never been on a horse before; he would teach them how to ride. Girls loved it, and he used it as a way to get laid.
2. He had never driven a car until he reached 18yrs old in 1975. My father gave him a Ford Galaxy 500. He routinely took the car off-roading and came back with farmer's pigs, sheep, and anything else eatable that he 'Borrowed" from different farms around Ohio at night.
3. He loved fishing, and would spend days fishing in State parks where he fished "without a license." he would dress up in camouflage and fish until he either ran out of beer or bait...which ever came first. He would cook the fish right next to him and eat the fish while he continued to fish for days. He never understood why people were buying fish in supermarkets when they were everywhere waiting to be caught.
But the thing about brother is this: he never, ever got offended by derogatory names or phrases. One reason is because he could "not" identify with African Americans plight--and you will notice this is also true for almost all Hispanics--they do not identify with the sensitivities of black Americans. My brother's nick names of "Buckwheat" and "Tar-baby" are terms of endearment to him. People do not call him "Papin," ever--the name is too foreign sounding and no one can remember it--including his teachers, professors, and employers. My brother could never identify with anything African American. He dislikes R&B music, hates rap, and could never identify with many of the prevalent negative attitudes with many African Americans; he strongly dislikes any culture of "blame." While in the Army, he and his army buddies would go out and drink beer, chase women, raise hell, and listen to Rock music. He was in a rock band, and hence, always hung out with white people or latins because he loved their music.
In my book--The Sex Lives of Misfits--my brother is the "Rocketman" character. All of those crazy stories are about him and his life. He really is a math genius in the book whom came to University classes dressed in velvet Panchos that he made out of old discarded curtains. Oh, and he loves hallucinogens.
Frank