#< it’s definitely a pittsburghese thing

[robyndehood]

My Son's Story (pt. 1)

DISCLAIMER: I Know it's a bit of a long read, but it's important. Please read. I promise it isn't boring. Thank you!

Hi Everyone,

Intro

This is my first real attempt at Tumblr. Please contact me if anything I post violates a rule or is not considered appropriate. Anything I post, I truly mean no harm nor offense to anyone. But I need to write daily again to regain my gift and share it with the world. I have been working on my version of the "great American novel" for years. As a child, I was well on my way to becoming a successful author, but people had other ideas for my career path - and to put it bluntly - my contribution to society. Writer's block set in and then what was second nature to me - creative writing, became a lost skill. Or maybe a distant memory. Writers know that half the struggle as an artist is the dilemma of our own aspiration towards perfection. But nothing is perfect. It is a social construct and the antithesis of true beauty.

The Ultimate Birthday Gift

So, that said, let's talk about my son. He's three - he's actually turning four in December. He was born on my birthday and has been the greatest gift that I have ever received. I won't pretend that he is perfect or even generally compliant with my directions. But he's loving. He's empathetic. He's brilliant. He's beautiful. And most of all, he is the sweetest person I have ever met.

I am going to go slightly off-topic for a bit; just to paint the full picture. I don't want to ramble and I am definitely a believer that a short and to the point message is almost always far superior to a long and complicated message. But bear with me because this snippet of the backstory is essential. And my son's story is important.

Appalachia

We live in Pittsburgh, part of the Appalachian Mountain Range. There is no other way to say it than the unadulterated, ugly truth of it - Pittsburgh is racist. Very racist. Beyond that, there is a general lack of common courtesy to outsiders, customers of businesses, other patrons in stores, etc. And the rudeness, is actually pretty much unrelated to the racism. It sounds strange and surely, minorities who are on the receiving end of it would certainly assume that racism was the reason why they said "excuse me," "thank you," etc. and about half the time are ignored like they're a ghost. But don't get it twisted - there are many times the aforementioned behaviors by many Pittsburghers IS induced by racism AND a lack of common courtesy and manners. You see, their deep-seated tribalism is indoctrinated into many Pittsburghers so completely from a young age that they know no different. It would be difficult for them to understand this article and I'd bet anyone ten bucks that if enough PIttsburghers read this post - they will attack my analysis of Pittsburghese culture as though the post itself is a blitz on the entire city.

Brown or White?

I am latin and there aren't many latins in Pittsburgh. But when we moved to Pittsburgh when I was in seventh grade, people knew my last name. Summer had just passed and I do get brown. I can get brown very quickly in the right type of sun and I get brown eventually in the sun that exists in cloudy and northern Pittsburgh. In seventh grade, some boys decided it would be funny to call me "estupido," and up until two years ago, I avoided sun exposure that would reveal my "brownness" like the plague.

Subversive, Subconscious, and Secret Racism

So, not long after I started that strategy, I was treated as white. (Side note: latins can be any race; but it seems that societal constructs are seeking to change this long accepted designation and categorize latins as some in between, brown race and not an ethnicity. To be honest, I am ok with that and now proud to be latin.)

The reality of being treated white in Pittsburgh for many years was that I learned what white people actually said when they were only with other whites. The most common thing that was said was one white person mumbling to other white people that someone was a "dumb n******" or a "dumb monkey." I've heard white adults refer to children who were black as "n***lets." But it was always this crocodile smiling through their teeth behavior. They'd never dare say it to a black person. Instead, they'd just indirectly discriminate against them.

I do have to mention that by no means do all Pittsburghers behave this way. It's just too many of them. I don't know the percentage, but if I had to guess I'd say - 50% plus.

Yes, Racism Happens All The Time Even if You Don't See it Happen

Many white people will tell you that racism is gone because they don't ever observe it and Obama was president - a black president. Therefore, everything is now over. I can admit that I have experienced my share of discrimination when my skin darkens. But I had no clue how bad it was for black people out here until my son became the recipient of the ugliness of it all. To me, racists are by definition ignorant cowards; so it makes sense they'd pick on a small boy whose only family is his mother.

Evil Always Starts Slowly

If one reviews history, every evil dictator or regime began slowly chipping away human rights. By the time the citizens realized the dire state of their country, it was too late. Their freedoms were already taken away and mechanisms to fight back had also been methodically erased.

When my son was born - a boy who is half African (his father (if you want to call him that since he is basically not involved) is from Ghana); no issues arose for the first two and a half years. But then the indirect discrimination started. The same rules that applied for white children didn't apply to him. I could give so many examples. But let's just say, as a rambunctious boy, if my son mimicked a white boy's same rambunctious behavior, we were confronted and the white family was not confronted.

One day I made an appointment for my son's hair to get cut at Philip Pelusi. They made the appointment knowing that he was only two and a half. The receptionist let me know that the stylist was a "Grade A Stylist," so I would have to pay more. I was fine with paying more; cool. After the appointment was made, I mentioned to the receptionist that my son was mixed race. We ended the call and I began to get my son ready to leave. Within ten minutes, the salon called back and informed me that they didn't/wouldn't cut my son's "type of hair." I promptly returned the call and explained his hair was curly, that's all. They blatantly lied and told me that the stylist doesn't cut ANY curly hair. Right. So, if a white lady came in with curly hair she would be turned away? I doubt it. Either way, the stylist is "Grade A." She is also licensed to cut hair by the state. Shouldn't a requirement for state licensing require one to know how to cut all "types of hair"?; I saved the recording, by the way, and still have it.

As months progressed, little by little wherever my son and I went in "white areas," we felt hostile vibes. Other incidents occurred that couldn't be proven as racial discrimination, but I knew. Whites behaved as though my son didn't deserve to be around them.

Southern Hospitality

We traveled down south a few times in the past year. Yes, some of the south is very racist still to this day. But not where we drove. Suddenly people responded when we said "excuse me," "thank you," etc. No white families prevented my son from playing with their children. No one told me my son was a nuisance or put out that vibe.

The Lesser of Two Evils?

But we had to come back each time because we live here and I've been working my way out of the projects that I have lived in for four years. Shootings. Open drug use and sales. The smell of crack in the hallways. Infestations in other apartments that come our way no matter what we try. People peeing on the hallway floors. Yes, seriously. Young children being encouraged to bully and beat up other kids. Children stealing or attempting to steal my son's toys because their mothers buy them none. Gamgmembers as young as twelve.

So, I concluded: "yes, we will move, but until then, we only sleep in our apartment and we do not play at the projects' playground." I figured IF I saved a certain number of money since I have a car that I saved for and bought last year, we would make it in our new, chosen city (Tampa or Jacksonville).

But then the racism against my son in the "white playgrounds" became worse. One day he was playing with a five year old boy at an indoor playground. The mother had no issue with it. The father of the boy arrived half an hour in, promptly scooped the boy away from my son, and told his son that he had told him he was not to "play with n*****s." My son couldn't understand why he could no longer play with his new friend and kept calling to him, "friends again!" while sobbing because he thought he had upset the boy. I had to leave with my son because of it.

Another time, a ten-year-old boy taunted my son on an outdoor playground and called him a "dumb monkey." My son first attempted to yell, "I NOT DUMB MONKEY," a few times; but the boy persisted and even smirked in my direction. My son ran to me and asked me to make the boy stop. No parent in sight and again, I just had to leave with my son.

Enough is Enough

Finally, last month or so, my son and I were at our usual laundromat doing laundry. We had finished. My son skipped a few steps in front of me and tried to open the glass door but couldn't push the bar to open it because of his height. He placed (yes, placed..lightly) his foot on the door to try to give it a bit more of a nudge. I was a few seconds behind him so just pushed the door open and we went to our car to load our clean laundry into it. In retrospect, I saw an older white male go next door to the beer store right after we walked out of the laundromar. The beer store employee approached us as I loaded my laundry into my car and then intended to leave.

The beer store employee told me he was getting "reports that kids were kicking glass." He said kids. Plural. And what he said made me envision a bunch of grade school kids kicking around broken glass on the sidewalk or parking lot. I responded calmly that "I have one kid and he's been with me the whole time. He wasn't involved." The beer store employee wanted drama to transpire. It was obvious. He said in a threatening manner: "Just so you know, I have cameras." My son and I exchanged glances because we were confused. What kids? Kids were kicking glass. Where? What glass?

Again though, I calmly responded that my son wasn't involved and he should check his cameras. He told me he was calling the cops. So I got my three-year-old son in his car seat and set a time limit of ten minutes to wait. We weren't running when he didn't do anything. The cops of course showed up about a minute later. It's ridiculous because in our projects (different police department than the laundromat police department), there have been shootings where children were outside playing when several clips were emptied into crowds and the police station is a block away. I know people called and it took an hour for them to arrive on scene.

Long story short, the laundromat cops knew it was a bullshit call. The supposed "kicking glass" was because my son placed his foot on the door to try to open it when we were LEAVING. The police eventually informed us that was the alleged "kicking of glass." There was no kicking that happened. The door wasn't even dirtier, let alone damaged because my son tried to use his foot to open the door. Lightly, by the way.

Even though the police were kind to my son, for the next week, my usual gregarious child was terrified to go anywhere. He eventually told me it was because "the cops will chase me and take me to jail because I bad guy now."

He's over it now. Mostly.

But we still have to pick between the craziness of playing at our aforementioned projects or going to a "white playground" and risking my son being rejected. It's usually a 50/50 shot that he will be rejected. If he gets rejected, he gets very upset.

Again, these are problems we never faced on our travels down the southern eastern seaboard. We didn't get treated like this at the destinations or on the journey by car to and from the destinations.

I knew we were living in an extremely racist and rude area, but one day I found this. It's a map delineating the results of a study conducted by Google and others regarding the level of racism in different parts of the country.

I already knew this much. But it's good to know I'm right that we are in the worst part of the U.S. for racism and the kindness we received traveling to those certain southern states was no illusion. And I did ask locals before I found this map if I was right that people are kinder to all colors in whichever given area.

Not the Worst Thing That Happened But the Last Straw

People talk a lot about Karens these days. This lady looked like she jumped right out of a Karen meme. My son was two feet away from her while we waited in line and she said as obnoxiously as possible: "Can you handle this? Please get him out of MY space." Yeah, I didn't let it go. At all. Her argument was that she said "please" so it's OK to make my son feel like a "this" and not a little boy. I held him while he sobbed. Long story short, I decided right then anywhere has to be better than this.

It isn't me just knowing people are being nasty to my son and I'm upset. He understands. He had an evaluation for something and he tested very well. He cried about each of these incidents. He just wants to make people smile and make friends.

So, next month we are going for it. I'm no where close to the aforementioned goal. I have some savings. We may end up in shelters at first after savings dry up in a few weeks. But we cannot survive up here. Nor can we advance here.

Side Note

I wrote this mostly to inform others of the status quo and reality of racism and the real effects it has on one tiny boy. And I know it will just get worse if we stay since it's this bad already.

But if you anyone knows of any resources to help us get on our feet in a month in Tampa or Jacksonville (Tampa is my first choice, but either one.) I have applied for housing, even though I didn't and don't want to go back to projects; but I'd take one down there over watching my son endure so much pain any day of the week.

Ok, so final part: I'm going to say upfront I feel extremely awkward with this paragraph because this isn't my way (years before my son was born I was homeless for a stint and never sat with a sign or a cup. Just couldn't do it), but for my son, I'm going to drop my cashtag here. Everyone is struggling and I know there are people with much worse problems. I appreciate anyone who has read this far and can help spread the reality of what I wrote about. That's the reason for the article; but if help is received at all because of it, we would be grateful but it's definitely a far second most important reason for the post. Here it goes, for my baby, in case it'll change his life and give us that better foot up, here it is: $RobyndeHood

[mankillercalledbunny]

Pittsburghese is totally a thing, and then Pennsylvania Dutch (Pennsylvania German). I don’t speak either, but there are definitely regional varieties that I do have, like saying “slippy” for slippery people dropping the “to be” verb after need—the dishes need done, the car needs washed, the driveway needs shoveled.

I love that! I think once a manner of speaking kind of gets a name by the people who use it, it can probably be called a dialect. I know there have definitely been studies done on Pittsburghese and especially r-pronunciation in Pittsburghese. It definitely appears to have its own rules as well which points towards dialect as well. I think Pittsburgh also has a particular style of AAVE but I can’t speak to that. 

[july-19th-club]

there’s a regional (i think) accent from where i live (northwestern PA, almost at the border of Ohio and about an hour from Lake Erie) which i cant find a definition for anywhere. it’s not pittsburghese, it’s not PA Dutch (although it definitely has influences of it), it’s not midwestern, it’s like a deeper, ROUNDER very-vaguely-Appalacian sort of accent that a couple of my dad’s brothers have and which i hear regularly in public and which is so hard to quantify despite the fact that it’s really familiar to my ears. i can’t imitate it, i just sound generally Appalachian, and im going nuts because i’ve tried looking up regional accents all afternoon and none of them describe the thing i’m talking about i’m convinced it’s a tiny pocket sub-dialect or something and somebody oughta do some research on it 

[coffee-at-annies]

An incomplete and kind of incoherent list of things about Jack who grew up in Pittsburgh (as told by someone who herself grew up in the city

That boy was practically raised to hate Philly. Like no joke he reflexively says “fuck Philly” the way some of the guys say “fuck the lax bros”

Steelers are his football team and even though he isn’t much of a football fan

Whenever Bitty starts talking about his football team Jack always casually brings up that his team holds the record for most Super Bowl wins and how many rings does your team have Bitty? Huh?

The boy owns a terrible towel. Well actually make that like three. Bitty finds them when he helps him move into his Providence apartment and doesn’t know what to do with his boyfriend.

It’s also a Pittsburgh thing to save your parking spot using a chair in the winter. Trust me its a thing. No it doesn’t make sense but you don’t move someone’s chair. Jack does this his freshman year and the lax bros move it and that is the real reason behind the ongoing feud with them.

The team may chirp Bitty about saying y'all all the time but that’s nothing compared to how they reacted when Jack came back from spending the end of the summer at his Uncle Mario’s and accidentally used the word yinz.

Pittsburghese and the Pittsburgh accent is like the worst and Jack will just casually slip into it every now and again. Bitty despairs.

Will put ketchup on everything and not think twice. Fries? Ketchup. Chicken tenders? Ketchup. Potatoes chips? Ketchup. Eggs? Definitely ketchup, especially if they’re dining hall eggs. Bitty is disgusted.

Jack doesn’t do cheat meals that often and cheat days even less but he’ll always be down for a Primanti Bros sandwich with coleslaw and fries on it. He doesn’t even count it towards the total number of cheat meals he allows himself, it just is.

Also Bitty’s pancakes aren’t the best pancakes Jack has ever had. He doesn’t mention it to Bitty but nothing compares to Pamela’s hotcakes. Jack never says anything but the first time he takes Bitty there during a visit to Pittsburgh during the summer after Bitty graduates he nearly melts with pleasure. Bitty wants to meet the chef they’re so good. Jack is maybe a little bit smug.

Jack actually got his love of history from Pittsburgh. Did you know it’s a historical city? There’s been people here since the first forts were built in the French and Indian War. It was a center of industry and steel for a while but since the mills have closed they’ve really tried to repair their ecosystem. There were so many firsts in Pittsburgh; the first nickleodeon theater, the polio vaccine, first radio station (KDKA). August Wilson, Andrew Carnegie, Andy Warhol, Dr Seuss all were born or lived there for significant portions of their lives. Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood was filmed there. Heinz company is based there. Not to mention sports history. Roberto Clemente and the Pirates is the first thing that springs to mind. They hosted the first world series at Forbes Field. I bet you Jack spent every weekend he wasn’t at hockey practice in the Heinz History Center learning about his city.

As much as he loves Heinz Field and PNC Park and has fond memories of seeing games with his parents, it absolutely crushed him when the plans for Consol were announced. To this day he doesn’t regret much about taking time off after the overdose to get his life together but he does regret that he’ll never get to play an NHL game in Mellon Arena. He’ll never get to play against his dad’s old team in the building where his father hoisted the cup all those years ago.

Coming from a place that is at least 85% hills jack just doesn’t register places as hills anymore. (Like seriously true story my college is on a hill and one on my friends was complaining about walking up it to get to the dorm buildings built into a hill and I was like, oh yeah this is a hill, cause the incline wasn’t enough to be awful so it just didn’t register as something not normal)

Also he totally doesn’t trust flat places or places where there’s a far horizon. Being able to see that far, it just doesn’t compute. He doesn’t understand how ppl can live like that.

That being said it’s a major adjustment when he goes to visit Bitty in Georgia and something he has to force himself not to dwell on.

Inordinately fond of bridges. Sometimes he misses them so much that he’ll go to the bridge by lake quad and just sit on it staring over the edge.

Also he like doesn’t get tolls. Part of it is a rich kid thing but part of it is he just doesn’t understand why you need to pay to cross a bridge. They’re just bridges.

Also when he and Bitty became official he totally bought one of those lock so he could lock it to his favorite bridge and throw the key into the water beneath.

When he starts doing photography one of the units is on architecture and of course his favorite examples are all of hockey arenas. After his teacher bans him from talking about hockey he quietly submits a photo he took the previous summer of PPG place. Needless to say he gets an A.

Look I’m not saying that growing up penguins were Jack’s favorite bird but they totally were. When Bitty moves in with Jack he kinda an old worn stuffed penguin in a box in Jack’s closet full of childhood things his parents thought he’d want. Needless to say the penguin becomes Señor Bun’s new best friend and has a place of honor with him on the bedside table or windowsill looking away from the bed.

About the only art he can talk about coherently is pop art and that’s because he’s been to the Andy Warhol museum a number of times. He and Lardo totally bond over it. It’s one of the few non-sports history things he knows about. He promised he’ll take her to see the museum sometime.

Also apparently the Carnegie Museum of Art was the first modern art museum and I did not know this. Jack’s family totally has a membership and one year takes Lardo on a trip to Pittsburgh where they just go around to the different art museums each day. I definitely think that Lardo would enjoy all the stuff from the Carnegie and she’d definitely enjoy the installations at the Mattress Factory.

His dad still does work with penguins charities on occasion and he’ll join in if he’s free.

Squirrel Hill (a borough) is very very Jewish and has a number of schuls, and even if his parents didn’t live in the neighborhood Jack’s childhood synagogue is there. After a Friday afternoon game he sneaks out of the hotel so he can attend services. The same Rabbi is there and after services he goes to talk with Jack cause he still recognizes him after all these years.

After his first game at Pittsburgh, thankfully an afternoon game, he sneaks out of consol and instead of heading out with the guys or back to the hotel he instead takes the incline up to mount Washington and takes a couple moments to stare down at the city and the point with the fountain still going in even in early fall and think about how he’s finally made it.

there’s more but I’m running out of coherent thoughts