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Exoticism and the cult of blandness
Jan. 22nd, 2006 01:41 amIn an earlier comment, ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
bellatrys wrote, "[T]here's a sort of imaginary whitebread spiritual north pole in the imaginary Peoria of the mind from which one is separated in varying degrees of authentic Americanness as one is turned off by the artificially bland/generic pseudo-WASP uberculture and turned on by spiced food, syncopated music, and other peoples' stories..."
I think I have almost nearly had an insight. On the other hand, it may just be gas. But at least it feels as if I've got a neural impulse tickling around somewhere about the self-appointed guardians of the monoculture fighting off any threat of diversity because as artificial as it is, that monochromatic (allegedly-)crustless Wonder-Breadness is the only thing they feel it's safe to belong to. Oh, there are tempting metaphors about hybrid vigor nibbling away at the edges of their gene pool, but I think those don't quite really apply.
One of my favorite lil' proto-Goth[*] anthologies had a vampire story written in the 1920s or so, whose diction startled me rather a lot the first time I read it-- the "Native American" cop was a proper respectable WASP, in contrast to the superstitious and emotional (but nevertheless mystically attuned) emigrant peasants from Poland, Italy, and Ireland, i.e. Catholics. IIRC the KKK started admitting Catholics within the past few decades to widen their recruiting pool and now hardly makes a fuss about them n'more, as long as they're reasonably Caucasian. (I almost think I also remember a minor newsthing about some local chapters also accepting Hispanics, whatever definition they've decided on for that-- even the Census may've given up on that one and made it a matter of self-labelling.)
[*: When I was a disaffected teen, we didn't even *have* a Goth subculture. The best we could do was dress in black and maybe listen to heavy metal if we could stand it. Since I didn't like most of that music and wasn't allowed to own much black clothing, that just left shoplifting a lot of morbid books. Also, I had to walk to the bookstore uphill both ways. If it's any consolation topunkwalrus, I don't remember frequenting "his" bookstore during the time he actually worked there.]
Gah. I think my neural impulse got grounded. This may have something to do with the cat who is now asleep on my foot.
bellatrys wrote, "[T]here's a sort of imaginary whitebread spiritual north pole in the imaginary Peoria of the mind from which one is separated in varying degrees of authentic Americanness as one is turned off by the artificially bland/generic pseudo-WASP uberculture and turned on by spiced food, syncopated music, and other peoples' stories..."I think I have almost nearly had an insight. On the other hand, it may just be gas. But at least it feels as if I've got a neural impulse tickling around somewhere about the self-appointed guardians of the monoculture fighting off any threat of diversity because as artificial as it is, that monochromatic (allegedly-)crustless Wonder-Breadness is the only thing they feel it's safe to belong to. Oh, there are tempting metaphors about hybrid vigor nibbling away at the edges of their gene pool, but I think those don't quite really apply.
One of my favorite lil' proto-Goth[*] anthologies had a vampire story written in the 1920s or so, whose diction startled me rather a lot the first time I read it-- the "Native American" cop was a proper respectable WASP, in contrast to the superstitious and emotional (but nevertheless mystically attuned) emigrant peasants from Poland, Italy, and Ireland, i.e. Catholics. IIRC the KKK started admitting Catholics within the past few decades to widen their recruiting pool and now hardly makes a fuss about them n'more, as long as they're reasonably Caucasian. (I almost think I also remember a minor newsthing about some local chapters also accepting Hispanics, whatever definition they've decided on for that-- even the Census may've given up on that one and made it a matter of self-labelling.)
[*: When I was a disaffected teen, we didn't even *have* a Goth subculture. The best we could do was dress in black and maybe listen to heavy metal if we could stand it. Since I didn't like most of that music and wasn't allowed to own much black clothing, that just left shoplifting a lot of morbid books. Also, I had to walk to the bookstore uphill both ways. If it's any consolation to
punkwalrus, I don't remember frequenting "his" bookstore during the time he actually worked there.]Gah. I think my neural impulse got grounded. This may have something to do with the cat who is now asleep on my foot.