Page 37 - Purchasing Power Black Kids and American Consumer Culture

22 . Consumption in Context

of mutual understanding and can pose obstacles for discovering infor-
mation (Jones 1970; Williams 1996). Brackette Williams explored in
depth her status as a "stranger" in a black community in Alabama; here
her "skinfolk," elderly African Americans, did not recognize her as one
of them simply on the basis of race. Williams, in turn, was forced to
"figure out the politics of racial and other status positionings as these
applied to particular persons" in order to do her fieldwork (84). Racial
groups are far from homogeneous and factors other than race may facili-
tate or impede effective fieldwork—even in the hyperracially conscious
United States.
In my case, class was probably a more relevant divide than was race.
First of all, my racial identity was a subject at times of confusion: people
in Newhallville variously thought of me as white, Chinese, black, or just
racially indeterminate. (In other settings, I have also been thought to be
Puerto Rican, Native American, Peruvian, Haitian, Jamaican, Cuban,
and East Indian.) However, there was rarely, if ever, any confusion over
my status as a graduate student and future professional. These were
both made evident every day not only by my speech but also by my
dress. My jeans and unironed t-shirts were tolerated by the kids but
viewed as hopelessly tacky. On days where I did dress up—ironing my
clothes, choosing my colors carefully, sleeking my hair down with gel
and hairspray—they richly rewarded me with praise and smiles. In the
beginning, my being a graduate student and also being associated with
the local elementary school meant that families responded to me with
the kind of reserved deference they showed teachers, social workers, and
welfare officials. Throughout my fieldwork I was called "Miss Chin" by
all children and most adults, in part because of my affiliation with the
school, and in part because in Newhallville this relatively formal form of
address is common. Children often explained to others that I was their
"teacher" but never directly referred to me in that way, having quickly
figured out that I was not a "real" teacher since I rarely enforced any
rules above and beyond trying to stop them from running headlong into
moving traffic, jumping off roofs, and, in one case, I attempted to put
the lid on a raucous striptease in a parking lot. Typically, then, as an an-
thropologist in these children's world I defied any ready categorization
and they used the closest explanation they could muster, albeit one that
only partially fit. As my dealings with kids and families became increas-
ingly ad hoc and informal, my relationships became more comfortable
and some began to refer to me as a quasi-family member, some even ad-
justing to address me on a first-name basis.