Red Dragon Jacket
By: Joel Diaz
There is a lack of understanding in the ways humans decide to express themselves to others. I am someone who has a complicated language: wanting to be noticed and ignored at the same time. One of my favorite jackets to wear is all black, letting me be invisible – but sports a flashy, red dragon on the back. I am also a double bass player in the strings orchestra, using an instrument that is supposed to be in the background of songs, yet its thunderous sound makes it stand out. That kind of complexity confuses others. It makes them believe that I have a divided mind, and they are unable to grasp a life with two different, simultaneous languages. It is difficult to use such language, but I find it to be unique and intentional as it allows me to express myself depending on who I am with, and gain benefits that I am most comfortable with.
I recall in eighth grade I was called out by a student for always being quiet and for having an odd style, which involved my all-black attire followed by the dragon jacket. “If you attempt to code-switch but are unable to do so effectively … people perceive you differently—and usually more negatively—because they realize you’re not being your real, authentic self” (Susan Hutton). They were confused in the way I expressed myself, and that led to them thinking I wasn’t worth interacting with. While being at a loss of possible connection, this experience made me realize that by being this closed-off individual who wears flashy clothes from time to time, it lets me see who is actually interested in wanting to learn more about me. That way, I can focus my time on them.
To me, it is comforting as I am not known to be a conversation starter.
Susan Hutton writing for the University of Michigan also states that, “in exchange for code-switching, employees of color are often perceived as a good cultural fit for established organizations and are more likely to be hired or promoted.” In other words, code-switching has great benefits for an Hispanic male like me. As a double pass player in the rear of the strings orchestra, using this instrument doesn’t direct too much attention to me. But the powerful sound the double bass creates gives it the push it needs to be noticed.
Additionally, the better I got, the more opportunities came my way to being heard: being in quartets and volunteering for solos. Unfortunately, the way I was considered as the “best bass player” for quite some time during my early years, put stress on me. My friend, senior violinist Fallon Williams, has said that “I am needed in the orchestra.” Of course, every instrument was needed, but as my music teacher and a fellow bass player, Henry Lugo puts it, “the bass is the backbone of the orchestra.” This section provides rhythmic stability, and he constantly states that the downbeats are vital to songs so the rest of the violins, violas, and cellos can find their entrances. Even if I was pressured to be the leader of the bass section and forced into those quartets and solos mentioned before, in my senior year I’ve grown to love these positions. This duality lets me be seen in a variety of ways while still being able to be in the background of the orchestra.
While duality can seem confusing, it is something valuable and interesting to me, letting me express myself in a unique way while offering a new perspective to others. The world is often too quick to judge just by the way we act, but it all comes down to understanding human behavior. I believe everyone can share the feeling of wanting to be ignored in some places – and heard in others. We all choose to express it in different ways. Like me with the red dragon jacket, and me being the double bass player that peers can rely on without being the main focus.