We had a lively family discussion about people appropriating other's cultural practices because they think they are "cool" or "neat." Am I way too sensitive about fake Cajun things: burnt chicken being passed off as edible and labeled "blackened" AND SNL's Cajun Man just isn't funny to me, he's obnoxious AND MARDI GRAS means FAT TUESDAY and can NOT NOT NOT happen on a Saturday!!!!!!???? On the other hand, while the subtleties are lost, many parts of the cultural practices and knowledge live on because of the common interpretation. Agh. Now I'm slipping into professor mode to over-analyze what bugs me. And bugs me it does. I don't want Lil'Bug to think those cheap mocking imitations are her heritage.
Perhaps the time for authenticity in a culture that really hasn't existed for my generation has passed and all we have is what has been melted into the pot? Maybe its been my physical removal from the geographic area? But always, when I hear the longing voice singing for Jolie Blonde or hear the distinct wind of a fiddle that reminds me of the old 45's my Popo used to play, or even the particular smell after a rain that is exactly like Christmas at Momo's, I long for something that I cannot hold on to. Something that feels like home in a way that where I am geographically never will. Perhaps this is why I am overreacting about appropriation.
I hate the melting pot. I would rather it be a stew where all of the ingredients come together and yet each one maintains it's original flavor. Why, when my ancestors came to this country, did they have to melt in and give up who they were? Because of this, I no longer have an ethnic identity. I'm just white, and that's sad.
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