Personal: Rants: Do AA Men Prefer Blondes?

...hell I don't know. But I'm pretty sure they don't prefer chubby redheads.

The article, Do AA Men Prefer Blonde Strippers in Rice & Times by Hiram Lee-Gonzalez really got me thinking. In the article, Lee-Gonzalez disects some of the ways and why's of beauty. He brushes the cross-cultural aspect of beauty nicely (for the length of the article), noting beauty standards in different parts of the world--beauty standards that we, as Americans, will probably never experience. Lee-Gonzalez also takes a critical look at what he sees as a propensity for AA men to prefer tall, thin blonde (White) women over other types, even if the others may also (or even more so) aesthetically pleasing, were the man not confronted with the choice.
I really do like the points that Lee-Gonzalez makes, and on a sort of an intellectual, non-personal level, I really do embrace what seems to be his main point. Namely, "...we Asian-American men must also choose Asian-American women over white women--even blondes. ...Only then will we be in a position to ask Asian-American women to choose us over white men."
As I said, on a non-personal level, this is a wonderful thought. However (and here's where the "Rants" part of my heading comes in), isn't that, while productive in the short-run, quite stifling in the long-run?
Now, I know there are many, many people who would disagree, and see nothing wrong with unity in a self-defined community (in this case the Asian-American community). Neither do I. Yet, it seems that such a strict sense of unity may not only create a stronger community, but, when a blanket statement is made proscribing inter-community love, stifle the possibilities of building progressively larger communities?
Lee-Gonzalez quotes Shakespeare, saying "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder." I couldn't agree more. As a confirmed EOD (Equal Opportunity Dater), I have much love for all kinds of people (and not just the "hot kind"). And it may just be because I want a date, but I do believe that fetishizing love for those outside any identity label really can propagate fetishes. Still amidst a complicated situation with a PRC guy, I have experienced first-hand (what I perceive as) a White-woman fetish. I suppose I never thought (as I don't fit into the tall, thin, blonde category AT ALL) that I could be the "flavor of the month." Turns out, I was the flavor of a lifetime (PM me if you must ask how I know!). He really wanted to be with a White woman, and overlooked severe differences in values, personality, etc, to be with me (I'm definitely to blame, too, though. Love is not only blind, it's just freaking unperceptive at times). Hence, my pre-existing belief that AA male love for the beauty of their AA female (or male!) counterparts must be both normalized and "ideal" (though perhaps not idealized), has been further confirmed. BUT, that doesn't change my position. I'm (becoming!) single again, but I'm still a chubby redhead. I'm pretty open to the identity of my prospective partner, but I'm not stupid. I thank Lee-Gonzalez, but I have always known that AA men prefer blondes. And personally, I don't think that telling AA men that, in order for AA women to find them attractive, they must solely form relationships with AA women over relationships with White women. Maybe its just selfish, but I'd like a date too. I'm quite a funny, intelligent, and kind person, and for all the self-deprecating humor I engage in, I'm not half bad looking. ;)
This probably made no sense and I'll edit it when I have time. For now, please take it with a grain of salt, and realize that, while I come at this from a level that might seem trite, I do believe it has some deeper implications.
Personally, I like the Lee-Gonzalez' write-up on the Maasai. The word for beauty in Maasai culture is the same as the word for morality. Now, that could mean that ugly people are treated as immoral, but I'd like to think it means that beauty is seen as emanating from within.
Cheers.

Personal: I never thought a song I didn't actually understand could be ruined.

Okay, so my Chinese is okay, and I probably *could* understand the song if I wanted to, but I've never taken the time. Although I listen to this song on a daily basis, its still Greek/Chinese to me. But who cares? Its kiiinda ruined now.
It used to make me just wistful. I listened to this song like ALL the time when the dh and I lived in that summer sublet in C-town a few years ago. 2 years, now.
I have all these memories of being really excited to cook for him. I was slightly disappointed that he wasn't in there cooking with me, but put that aside. Crap, seems like when you look back on things, hindsight just looks a lot dirtier in the rearview mirror. I'm lonely. And I can't stand that song. Like I said, it reminds me of dinner (HA- looking at my figure, you can see that, while the song was ruined, dinner certainly wasn't!). Reminds me of cooking, barefoot on the linoleum, crouching bc it was an attic apartment. Reminds me of the wok hot and splashing grease on me when I got too into humming the music and didn't pay attention. Reminds me of the little CD player, probably the most valuable thing my grandfather had to leave (besides the 87' Land Yacht-my aunt got that), all covered with grease bc the dh didn't want to put his stuff up there, but still pumping along. I really quit listening to American music that summer. Haven't taken it up since, really. I force myself to download some old stuff I know I love, but I don't know any of the songs on the radio anymore. I just remember being like eye-level with the birds and the top of a big old tree (decidious, that's all I remember! I can tell a fir from a spruce from a doug fir from a..., but not the ones that lose their leaves-those are all the same, lol). Really happy bc it would start to cool down, and then I would make dinner. Lol as I'm sitting here thinking about it, it dawns on me that I still didn't know what my dh did with all that time. I got up at the butt crack of dawn, went to open the lab for work, then to classes, then back to work, then home to cook, and then, if I could pull myself away, to do the dishes and the homework. He worked out. I think. But no hard feelings. I foist so much on myself, and he was getting his money for free, anyway (gotta love phd programs). I remember the smell of olive oil, garlic, szechuan flower pepper, edamame, shrimp, and sound and smell of boiling white rice. I don't know. Looking back, I don't remember being content. I remember feeling excited, happy, *wishing* but knowing the situation wouldn't always be like this. I just kind of chopped and salted and stirfried and danced around the kitchen, gurgling with a giggle that wasn't forced, but that I knew wouldn't last. I remember secretly thinking that I would chao the best maodou xia that he would be so happy and horny (ugh, the two are sometimes synonymous to me at times, especially when it comes to food! Thanks Nona, Nono, y Zia Doug!) that I would actually get laid, or better yet, . I guess I remember the situation being tacitly tenuous, that's what I remember. Ha, how clinical. I remember fighting the feeling of being let down. I fought it successfully. Eventually I was let down (or realized I had always been let down). But, it was a great summer.

The song, if you were wondering, is "Aide Jiushi Ni" by Wang Leehom. Oddly poppy song for the mix of feelings it evokes.