I want to tell you a secret:
Back when I was an undergrad at UT Austin, I knew I was walking in the great white halls of good ole southern wasichu filth. From buildings named after racists to statues of southern rebel leaders who fought to protect white supremacy and slavery, my skin would crawl every single time I stepped foot on campus because I could feel the whiteness and wasichu mentality vibing in the air.
My only refuge was the CMAS (Center for Mexican American Studies) office that was administratively tucked away in the corner of a building at the edge of campus and MEChA, which met once a week.
I did not fit in with aspiring “Latinos” and “Hi-panics” who had been blindfolded by the Great White Lie of equality and social ascendancy. I was called a “radical” and “poor, angry Mexican” from my professors to my classmates…so the experience was very harsh on an already bleeding heart that was feeling the weight of the hate against me plus the hate embedded in my DNA from generations of colonization.
So I made a deal with myself to help me get past the daily wasichu non-sense I had to deal with in order to “get an education”: I vowed to spit on every wasichu statue on campus that I walked by. And I did that. For all the years I was there. All of them. I spit on all of them every single day my warrior path forced me to walk by their beloved white supremacist statues.
AND IT FELT GREAT.