relationships- what i think

everybody else is talking about black relationships and families out there. i figured i'd put in my two cents, too.

i think we need to all kick back a minute. i think that there is entirely too much hype out there. i think folks are getting entirely too stressed about all the negative statistics we're hearing about black relationships. i think some folks are a tad bit too sensitive sometimes. and i think we all relying entirely too much on gender roles in our analysis of what's going on. i'm not saying men and women aren't different, 'cause we are. but this whole business about men are supposed to be this and do that, and women are supposed to do this and be that... i think we, especially women, are creating unnecessary mines in this field.

i think too many of us are hung up on the wrong isht. acquiring a mate is not like acquiring a car. this whole, 0-60 in 7 seconds (master's degree), great gas mileage (well-connected), BOSE sound system (great salary) box checking off of a list is for the birds. sure, find someone like you. a kindred spirit. someone who likes the same stuff, be it shopping at the pawn shop for bargains or wine tasting, but for goodness sake, toss out the lists with boxes next to attributes. i had one when i was seventeen. then i grew up. it's not about abandoning standards, it's about being open minded. you could get exactly what you need from someone you might not expect to be the gift-giver. the Creator knows what you need more than you do.

i think that when folks are feeling each other, they figure out how to communicate that to each other. and when they don't, it's probably because their past, or their fears, or maybe even their inexperience tangled the communication all up, leading to misunderstandings. even so, no worries. 'cause i believe in fate. i believe that the people who are fated to find themselves in a loving relationship will get there, because they are the people who will make a conscious effort to learn from their mistakes, to go meet new friends, to communicate honestly, to use discretion when necessary, and to know when being secretive or trying to be cunning is simply doing too damn much. i am not the only person to get into a relationship and think: wow. there's no way this would be going as well as it is if i hadn't learned this-or-that-lesson from that friendship with so-and-so, or that relationship with such-and-such. it ain't about what you do, it's about who you are, that determines your readiness and your aptitude and even your desirableness. i also believe that people who can't weather the learning process are not fated to hook up, and if they do, they will have a sharp learning curve that they might not be able to handle.

i think that it's true that marriage is good for people and their children. but i only think that's it's the best for people and their children when it's done right! i think staying together, married or not, is only good for the kids if it gives them them the most stable, loving, and exemplary environment possible under the circumstances. i think that raising a child with split up parents is totally doable, and is the optimal situation if both parents mix like oil and water when together. i also think that when parents split up, they are BOTH still obligated to be good parents, whether from the same or different households. and i think this is possible if moms and dads don't procreate with the scum of the earth. but if you make your bed with a miscreant, get you and your child up out of it - shoulder the burden by yourself, and love every minute with your child, giving no energy to the negative thoughts about that child's non-custodial parent. 'cause as you should've known i was going to say, you should have had those negative thoughts before making that bed, not now. birth control is the way to go. we are blessed enough to have the choice up front, and more people should use it.

so far as single moms by choice go - i think what's wrong with adoption? really. if these women saw the faces of all these babies and kids and teens out there who are literally unwanted, i wonder if they'd rather spend their money on the adoption process or sperm? it's just my opinion, but that's the way i think i'd go if i was baby-hungry at 37 with money in the bank.

treat it right

this is an open letter. if it applies to you, please take note. if it doesn't, and you know someone who should read this, please, do the loving thing, and help a sista out.

If you know someone who is knowledgeable about hair maintenance, perhaps you should ask for their help, because health is a good thing, and right now your hair lacks health.

Perhaps you are not drinking enough water and getting enough nutrients through a good diet and vitamins. Or perhaps it's as simple as getting a trim to save your ends from being uneven. I've also read that using a satin pillowcase or scarf is helpful at night to prevent dryness and breakage. But you should probably start trying some or all of these things to help make things a little better.

Because there is no reason for your hair line to look like that. You've probably been pulling your hair back too tightly, or getting your hair braided too often. Sometimes, your hair needs a break. If you keep pulling at it, the roots will get weak, and your hair will come out. A little variety in your hairstyle will help keep your hair healthy.

But please don't take that overboard - too much variety could wear your hair out too. You know, super-strength chemical relaxers are not for everybody. You might be that person who needs to let your hair run free for a little while. There is no shortage of information on the internet or in magazines about hairstyles you can try that will give your hair a much needed break so that it can stay strong.

Or, have you considered trying a children's relaxer? Or no relaxer at all? I'm telling you, those Dominican girls are good with those blow dryers! And they're affordable, too. Other choices include straightening combs and flat-irons. Just please, get someone you trust to do it - someone who knows how to do it without charring your tresses, sapping them of much needed moisture. Using heat is serious business, and must be done with care, if at all, because it's even better if you don't use heat. Just know that if you insist on being able to have your hair blow in the wind, you have options beyond continually processing your hair to the point where it is dry, brittle, and broken. Investing in a good conditioner is a helpful thing to try.

For all your efforts to have a beautiful mane, maybe you can't see what we see when others look at your hair. I'm sorry to say this, but it looks unloved. Have you ever considered wearing your hair in its original texture? Do you remember what it is? Think back - way back before second or third grade. Matter of fact, dig those early elementary school pictures out. Do you not like what you see? I mean, that's possible, but let's say you think the way the Creator made you was just right. Think maybe you could embrace that? Think you could try working with it?

I'm just saying, it's an option, and it would probably look better than all that excessive gel which is obscuring the beauty and texture of your hair (and contributing to dehydration and breakage). If you tried something different, your hair might be stronger, and longer, so that you don't have to snatch what little hair that didn't break off into a ponytail holder that contributes to the breakage (and can't even hold the many short, broken flyaways that the gel/hair grease couldn't hold).

If you're interested in putting your hair away, in extensions, bonded or sewn track weaves, or lace-front or cap wigs, please take note - you still need to take care of what's actually growing out of your head. Just because it's out of sight doesn't mean you can just let it go, and especially for too long a period of time. Aren't you tired of having your roots peek out, looking all forlorn and neglected? Aren't you tired of seeing something unruly when you get your weave/extensions taken out? You can only escape doing your own hair for so long. In any case, your hair won't be any better off if you neglect caring for it. We all know what happens when someone with locs does not keep up with her new growth - do you think you are exempt from having to love your hair just because it's been braided to your head or covered with cosmetics? You aren't. How many years do you think you can get away with this before you get your weave/extensions taken out one day to find that hardly any of your own hair is left?

Take responsibility for your hair. If you can't afford a professional, invest in the tools to take care of it yourself with simple hairstyles in between salon visits - or take the initiative to learn how to care for it yourself. Don't be afraid of your own hair. It came from you. It's part of you, not your enemy. If you are patient and willing to learn, you could get good at it without harming it.

I don't say these things to make people look down their noses at folks who aren't keeping up with their hair. I'm saying them because somebody has to say them. We are allowing each other to walk around with unhealthy hair and unhealthy scalps. Too many of us are causing our own hair loss. Too many of us are teaching our daughters and nieces and little cousins by example to treat their hair in an unhealthy way. It hurts to see 5-7 out of 10 of us I pass in public doing things that are harmful to themselves, in the name of style, or out of unnecessary ignorance of what their hair needs, or because someone told them their hair is "bad," or "worrisome," or "nappy" - all virtual synonyms for "unworthy of care, time, and love." Each of us is worthy of care, time, and love - our hair is worthy of good care. Our hair is NOT too difficult to appreciate and care for. We should treat it right.

Love your hair.

stop playing

I watched/listened to (I was cooking) the presidential debates in Philadelphia the other week. Hillary Clinton's folks are claiming that she was attacked by the other candidates because she is a woman.

That is bovine waste, and they know it.

She is the media darling - a presumptive front-runner. She was attacked by the other candidates because she is the candidate to beat right now. Of course the other candidates were gunning for the chinks in her armor. They should have, because that's exactly what debates are for. Candidates use debates to boost their esteem in the eyes of voters, and lower the esteem of their opponents. She is an artful question-dodger, and she did flip-flop in one of her positions towards the end of that particular debate, and the other candidates would have missed a perfect and legitimate opportunity if they had not called her on it. They were right to do so, and not only that, they called her credibility into question, which they should have done, because credibility is a material issue in this campaign. Part of the reason so many Americans are dissatisfied with our current president is that he has lost credibility with us, and lost our trust. Whoever is elected our next president should be credible and trustworthy. So spare me the garbage about credibility not being at issue (as one of the candidates said during the debate - that was such a sucker move).

I am not saying that I won't vote for Hillary, or that I will. Neither am I prepared to declare that Senator Clinton is not credible or trustworthy. At this very, very early point in the process, I am still an undecided voter. But I think that the claims of late that she was unfairly targeted because of her gender are ridiculous, and I don't agree with what I see as a sneaky tactic. I think it's a ploy to distract people from the fact that she looked weak in the latter moments of the debate. I think it's a ploy to rally sympathy for her. This lady is tough and accomplished and capable - I know that she can do anything her male opponents can do - she doesn't need our sympathy, she needs to think better on her feet when under pressure and/or spin her weakness in the debate in another direction. Just not by using the "they're picking on the lone woman" argument.

imagining

imagine a world where some people think that something is so important that it becomes necessary to advertise desired behavior to people who they think are either behaving badly or are badly informed on how they should behave.

imagine that the people suggesting desired behavior decide that a good way to advertise this behavior is to print big, bright posters with pictures of the desired behavior that they want to see and then place those posters on city buses.

imagine that some person on the bus sees one of these posters, pulls out a pen, and decided to add their own suggestion of desired behavior to the poster. apparently the poster doesn't say enough. the person on the bus leans over the railing and scrawls, not graffiti, but additional advice for passersby to read.

imagine that that person decided that if you're going to suggest desired behavior, you might do well to target everyone that behavior affects.

imagine that a blogger with a camera phone happens upon this very bus one rainy morning, and notices the brightly colored poster, with pictures of desired behavior, an admonishment from the advertiser, and somebody's editorial addition written in pen. the blogger chuckles, looks around wondering if the others on the bus will think her crazy, and then resigns herself to the fact that she probably is anyway.

imagine she fumbles with the camera, taking video after video but failing to take a snapshot. her stop is coming up, quickly. she might miss her opportunity to capture what could be accidental art! finally, the right method dawns upon the technologically remedial blogger. she snaps two pictures hastily, and walks off the bus into the rainy morning, armed with a visible memory of what made her chuckle... and what made her think... about social advertising, assumptions people make, and the utility of graffiti.


the poster reads: "Think you're pregnant? Get prenatal care as soon as you think you're pregnant - and keep all your prenatal appointments. Give Your Baby a Healthy Start." what's missing are the several pictures of smiling black and latino couples with babies. go prenatal care!

the scribbles read: "If you are man enough to get her pregnant, be man [sic] to Raise your child."

new developments

first of all, i love my new fabric softener. i switched from dryer sheets to liquid and it makes all the difference! i love it in my clothes... in my sheets... in the linen closet... it's just wonderful.

2006 was the year of change... 2007 is the year of action. i've known this for some time now. but why did i forget that action brings about change? my finances are looking up because of some changes i made to the way i handle my money. my job is looking up because of some changes i made to my priorities. my home life is looking up because of some changes i've made - hey, i moved! (again!)

and i've already started to figure out what 2008 will be. the year of fulfillment. because of this year's actions, some things are getting ready to come together for me on the grown folks tip. dreams i've had for years will manifest. it's a very, very good feeling.

i have to find some dance class or something. any suggestions? i have to stay off the couch, and poetry is lovely but it doesn't work your abs and thighs.

i have to get my passport, too. i am so leaving this country. i don't even know where i'm going first, but there's a whole world out there and i need to go see it. i know i keep saying that, but bear with me. it takes time for someone like me to move on stuff like this.

oh yeah, and i'm recycling again and it feels good.

that's enough randomness and cryptic bragging for one day, don'tchathink?

it's who we are, not what we hear

Let me just say this about hip hop.

The problem is not the music, or the images, the industry, greed, capitalism - none of that.

The problem is culture. The problem is family values. There will always be something that turns a mirror back on society, reflecting the culture in that society. Misogyny, greed, violence, hedonism, materialism - all these things are in mainstream commercial hip hop and other media because all these things are in society. No one recording artist, video model, producer, or record label has the patent on these things. If there was no appetite for these morally questionable displays of vanity set to simple beats, then these opportunists would be out of business.

I don't excuse these opportunists for what they're doing. The problems with today's mainstream commercial hip hop are inexcusable. In fact, that's exactly where things start to go awry - people are excusing the inexcusable. People know some songs say things that don't reconcile with their values, but they like the beat, so they turn it up... with their three year old listening in the back seat of the car. They wouldn't like if their three year old grew up to have a credit card swiped through the crack of her behind, but they'll watch some other man's daughter in that very position late at night while their little girls are sleeping (or up way too late, watching TV too). They would rather their son get a good job when he grows up, but they allow him to hang pictures of admitted drug dealers - street thugs - on his bedroom walls. Not affirming our values - not honoring the values of our grandparents, is excusing the inexcusable, and as long as we let this and that continue to slide under the radar of what we should know is worthy of our time and attention, that which is considered "entertainment" will continue to degenerate. It's not just the music, it's the movies, it's celebrity "news" and gossip, it's fashion - it's culture at large, not just hip hop.

The stuff I hear on the hip hop station as I turn by it disappoints me - not just because it's bad to me, but because I know people are listening and are entertained by it. Not very long ago, stuff like Chicken Noodle Soup and Laffy Taffy wouldn't have gotten airplay, because people would have said, "This song is stupid," and turned off the radio. Rappers who rhyme a word with the very same word in the next verse were once clowned. But as people allow music to dumb down by excusing mediocrity and ignorance, this is the future of radio hip hop. We have arrived. Maybe this isn't where we want to be, but until we change our appetites, we will be spoonfed whatever we tolerate.

If we, as a group, rose to the level of the people we have the potential to be - people hungry for creativity, ingenuity, integrity, and variety, the problems we have with hip hop would ebb away like a bad dream after you wake up. We have to raise, not just feed and clothe, but guide, instruct, encourage, and believe in our children. We have to teach them their worth and about the opportunities available to them in this age where the ancestors have cried, bled, marched, and achieved so much so that we wouldn't have to shake our behinds or shuck and jive, grinning ear to ear, celebrating ignorance just to make a buck. We have to expose them to a variety of music, so they can appreciate a good hip hop sample when they hear it. We have to give our kids the tools to see hip hop and evaluate it for themselves - to separate fantasy from reality, and be able to tell walking, rapping stereotypes from genuine men and women.

In short, we don't need hip hop to go away. If we know who we are and what we're capable of and we give our kids the right tools in life, they'll see the negative things about commercial mainstream hip hop, or other media images and preoccupations for themselves, and respond in kind by rejecting that which is abhorrent, embracing that which doesn't appeal to the basest levels of our existence, and changing the game.

i appreciate folks

it's nice to be able to share your joys with the people you love, admire, and respect... there's something about seeing yourself through the eyes of others that can give you some idea of the impact that you're having on the world around you. if they share your joys and pains, it's an indication of their connection to you, and if not... well then, let's hope it's a good thing that you know where folks stand.

i am loved.

it feels good to have people to share my life with. it feels good to know people are praying for me, hoping for the best for me, taking joy in my joys, investing concern in my struggles.

i am so blessed.

He ministers to me through the love of others. i know all roads lead back to Him.

all love, all patience, all optimism, all faith...

it all leads back to Him. it all leads forward into Him.

personal is personal

this used to be such a personal blog.

but i feel a little less anonymous here. people who've met and known me in person know how to find this blog. i've had readers who know my (distinctive) given name. and something about that just holds my tongue. somewhere along the line, i became too afraid to talk about myself, and started talking about the state of black america, using capitalization. if you've noticed, and you don't like it, all i can say is, it's just not that type of party anymore.

i've got career things going on right now. i've got money things going on right now. let's not forget the loving relationship things going on right now (this may be a pivotal turning point in my election of more privacy). i'm so busy on the grind, and in the gym, and being involved with my family - my poetry has slowed down so much. i'm still writing preliminary lines in my head that get lost to the four winds because they're never written down. i'm okay with it. this too shall pass.

i'm trying to talk to the Creator more often. it's not easy. once you get out of the habit of doing it, doing it requires effort. it's so silly how when we need him most - those times when we're juggling our worries and our cares with the day-to-day requirements - it's the time we (I, anyway) find it hardest to make time. i'm being pulled back to the church, slowly but surely. i haven't attended regularly in some time, especially since the importance of attendance has waned for me in the grand scheme of faith and faith-based action and living. but i feel that by returning with some regularity, i can regain some balance that i used to have... that i can reclaim some much-needed focus.

i decided at the beginning of this year that this year would be an important one of action. last year, it was all about change. the year before that, it was all about discovery. so many developments are happening with me - i've met milestones that i hadn't even set for myself yet, and it's not even my new year yet: i've still got all of fall and most of winter until this biological year passes into a new one. and yet, the idea of a deadline means little to me. the more i experience, the more i realize the truth of what people say about things happening in their own time - in the Lord's time.

i realize that this whole process, beginning with my exodus from the south which preceded the creation of this blog by mere months, is the process of me becoming who i've wanted to be since i was a child. that amazes me. i'm recognizing the idealistic child i once was in the woman i am becoming. if this is full circle, then what happens next? this is why i need to invest in my connection with the Creator. i don't want to get lost along the way. i have a purpose bigger than whatever i may dream of on my own. my faith can lead me there.

in the meantime, i am seriously pursuing physical, emotional, mental, financial, and spiritual well-being. privately. i can't work it all out here. i believe my written journal will begin to take back the favor i'd bestowed on this public blog and become, once again, the holder of my story - the breadcrumbs of my journey. this isn't a goodbye... it's just a clarification that i haven't lost my rich thought life. i've just pulled it in closer to my chest.

dat boy crazy

this ain't the first time i hopped on the computer to blog about kanye west immediately after seeing him go off the script on live television.

this time, he was performing on saturday night live, and flubbed one of the lines about halfway through the song. no problem. what'd he do? instead of faking it until the end of the verse, then going to the chorus and hopping back into the lyrics, he freestyled his way to the end of the set - actually, not the end of the set, 'cause he cut that short, too. plus, he turned around and lied about planning to mess up and freestyle, 'cause, well, it's what came to mind. LOL! say what you want about him, but i'm a fan. no, he might not be the best at everything, hands down, and no, he's not the best at freestyling (KRS-One could kill kanye in a battle in his sleep), but the brother's got a spark about him. his album is selling well, everybody knows his name, but he's still hongry. it's endearing. i'm happy for him.

face forward

I am not rejoicing that Mychal Bell made bail. Not because I'm not happy for him - I am, but because I know this is not the end. He is still facing serious charges. He still has that matter of his prior juvenile offenses to live down. The other five defendants are all in the same boat - facing serious charges that stem from their actions on the day they made the decision to jump Justin Barker. They are still in the process of becoming men, and I'm hoping that in the midst of all these events, they are reevaluating their decision making skills.

I was not, and am still not of the opinion that these young men should be "freed." I wore black for solidarity with the protesters and called attention to my position on the matter because I believed that their charges were excessive and racist in the absence of similar charges for white teens who were also involved in assaults in Jena, La - for example, the whites whose actions Justin Barker bragged about before the Jena Six decided to whup his ass.

Which brings me to this point: for actions, there are consequences. I cannot demand that white teens be held accountable for their assaults on black students and simultaneously hold the Jena Six blameless for what they've done. The solution is not to let the black kids go free like the white kids were allowed to do. The solution is to hold every kid, regardless of their color, responsible for their choices and actions. Haul those white kids into court, too.

I wish the Jena Six well - fair charges, fair hearings, and fair sentences. I also wish that the prosecutor and law enforcement in Jena bring the white teens to justice, and that they find and punish the arsonist who burned the school down.

If this country wants people to respect and follow the law, then the enforcement of the law should be just and evenly applied.

Focus?

I don't like Bill O'Reilly. I've never liked Bill O'Reilly. I disagree with his politics. I hate his show. I hate his network. He annoys me. Never, have I ever thought that I would do anything that could even be mistaken for defending him, but here goes...

Scenario: Bill O'Reilly is on the radio, having a discussion with Juan Williams. In the course of their conversation, O'Reilly brings up the time he went out to eat with Al Sharpton. They went to the now seemingly ubiquitous Sylvia's in Harlem, a black-owned restaurant. Apparently, some comments he made during this discussion are making a lot of people angry. Headlines read as follows: "Bill O'Reilly racist comments," "O'Reilly: Sylvia's just like a suburban white restaurant," "Is Bill O'Reilly's Comment on Race an 'Imus Moment' ."

What was offensive? Well, he said that he "couldn't get over" how eating at Sylvia's was like eating anywhere else. He also said, "There wasn't one person in Sylvia's who was screaming, 'M-F'er, I want some more iced tea.' " That sounds a lot to me like one of those patronizing, "That [insert black person here] is so articulate [or clean, or polite, or insert-anti-black-stereotypical-adjective-here]." So I can see why folks are upset. But before I decided to let this guy affect my blood pressure, I figured I'd do a little digging to find the statements in their original context, since I noticed that hardly any of the articles commenting on the fallout have provided any context whatsoever.

Check this out. The relevant parts of the transcript are about halfway down the page, after the bullet points, beginning with, "From the September 19 edition of Westwood One's The Radio Factor:"

http://mediamatters.org/items/200709210007

Once I read the transcript, I realized that several of his statements had been taken out of context. In fact, even the site I've linked to has put the most commonly cited text in boldface text, as if to say that the context for the statements was irrelevant. It appears to me that O'Reilly was trying to say that his visit to Sylvia's was an example of why stereotypes are stupid. Of course, in keeping with his pompous, arrogant character, he said it with words like, "I couldn't get over the fact that there was no difference," and "...[T]he people up there are tremendously respectful. They all watch [my show] The Factor." Unfortunately for him, his politics and his history of making statements that indict black culture make it painfully difficult to consider that perhaps he meant well by his statements, but in fairness, I think this is one of the times when O'Reilly was not at his worst.

This is part of the problem with race relations in today's society. We don't know how to talk to each other about race relations without mis-speaking and being mis-interpreted at every turn. Mind you, I have no sympathy for O'Reilly here. I'm not concerned about his welfare in the aftermath of his fumble. Trust me, he's already said plenty already for intelligent people to be upset about, and I bet next month he'll say something else stupid that will legitimately piss me off. I'm concerned about the rest of us, and how we've got radio and newspapers hopping all over misinterpreted comments being taken out of context - and people are reading it and eating it up without pausing to question the story - getting hyped, expending energy. 'Cause folks are all so ready to go on the next crusade against racism.

Family: rather than fill folks' in-boxes over some simple comments, a better way to fight racism is to fight for the people affected by it. Read to the kids. Network with minorities. Each one teach one. Go to PTA meetings. Start snitching. Invest in minority start-up businesses. Mentor a child. Be there for your families. We don't have time to be worried about people like Bill O'Reilly and what he has to say about soul food. We have a generation of children to hoist on our shoulders.

After Jena 6

I noticed, in my unscientific visual survey of what black folks were wearing, that people in the downtown white collar jobs were more likely to wear black than the blue collar folks in the neighborhoods. Could it be that the first group of folks were more likely to listen to the radio talk shows, read black bloggers, and pass e-mail forwards? Anecdotally, I know a lot of blue collar folks that don't do at least two out of three of these things, and those were the primary ways we spread the word about yesterday's protest and "dress code." Or could it be, as a friend of mine suggested, that people in the hood are too worried about their own problems to be bothered with concern about the Jena 6. Black boys get railroaded in the court system, discriminated against, and shot regularly enough in the hood that some folks may wonder why Jena is anymore special than Camden or North Philly.

In fact, in a discussion I listened to last night, I heard a woman say something to that effect - we have a lot going on right here at home to deal with, so what about Jena, La.? Can we take care of Philly first? My thoughts are that concern doesn't have to be mutually exclusive - one can care about what's going on up the street and still show concern for what's going on down south. One can also pitch in to help out with local and national matters. Caring about the Jena 6 doesn't mean you no longer care about your little cousin.

I did some internet surfing to see what folks - blacks and others - had to say about the incident. So many people seemed misinformed, or under-informed about the mission. It seems a lot of people think that blacks just wanted the Jena 6 freed because they're black and they were provoked. Not so. The problem was that they were excessively charged, and that no whites faced any sentence remotely close to what the blacks are facing, despite the fact that a black student was intimidated with a firearm and later jumped by whites. The district attorney was lenient with the whites and heavy-handed with the blacks. That's the problem. These young men didn't get mad about some nooses and then decide to jump the first white kid they saw. Too many people have formed opinions without understanding the context of the situation. It was very disappointing to see. Wikipedia is free.

Another comment I heard a few times was that, "I'm tired of black people rallying around causes because it's the trendy thing to do. So I didn't wear black today." Or, "Wearing black isn't going to change anything, so I didn't see the point." To the first comment, I say that it's not just black people who rally around a cause-of-the-moment and then lose intensity - that may be an American, or maybe even a human societal flaw. Let's not malign black people any more than others, shall we? But I understand and agree that if you really want change, you can't limit your efforts to one Day of Atonement (the Million Man March was supposed to start a movement in several communities, not end after the buses came back home), or one month of solidarity (mainstream media wanted to believe race and class divisions were healed after 9/11 just because everyone was emotional after the country's loss). Thing is, showing solidarity on one day doesn't mean that you can't keep things going the next day. That doesn't mean continuing to wear black today. That means continuing to draw attention to the issues that matter, regardless of the clothes you wear. Your actions are up to you, and if you want change, you can be that one person to keep it on the minds of the people around you.

Regarding black not changing anything, I've said in my last post that clothes won't get the Jena 6 a fair trial. But that didn't make wearing black irrelevant. Some may disagree, but some battles are won and lost in the psyche. That's why shows of solidarity have such important in this, our symbolic culture. I was excited to see black folks wearing black - to me, it meant that people had heard about an important cause, and what's more, they supported the fact that something was being done about it. They wanted to bring awareness of the issues. They believed in the power of collective effort. All psychological, but all very relevant and affirming to those like myself who choose to believe that despite popular belief, people, especially black Americans, are not all apathetic, lazy, and complacent. I am too young to know how black folks felt when watching our two Olympians on the podium raise their black gloved fists during the national anthem. But I bet it got people hyped. I know I was hyped yesterday, and so were others all over the country.

I can't knock that. If anything, I want to support that. Which is why when I thought, "Wearing black is a waste of time," yesterday, I thought better of it and wore as much black as I could. Every little bit helps. And we should use what energy we can retain from yesterday's momentum to keep that optimistic effort for change going. Never mind past fits and starts, past unbroken promises, past failures. Our job is to learn from the past, not limit ourselves by bitter memories of it.

Again, I ask, what are we going to do today? Even better, what am I going to do today?

I wrote this blog to inspire you to give serious thought to this question. Let's try to ask it of ourselves, and find an answer, every day.

what are you wearing today?

Today I am wearing a set of black slacks with blue pinstripes, and a black sweater showing my shirt's blue collar and cuffs. I wanted to wear all black, but I didn't have solid black to rock. But I got as close as I could, since today is a special day.

Today, black folks from all over the country are wearing black clothes, on purpose, together. It's a show of solidarity with the people who took off work, scraped some money together, got hotel rooms, printed flyers, made signs, and dedicated their time today to go to Jena, Louisiana, to protest the judicial system there. The district attorney there is in the process of prosecuting six black teenagers for jumping a white teenager in the aftermath of some racially-based fighting between whites and blacks in that town. The sentences these young men are facing are harsh. The background of the cases has led many to believe that the prosecution is unjustly excessive and racially based. Although the public outcry has not been as prominent in the news as say, Britney Spears' performance at the VMA awards, the rivalry between 50 Cent and Kanye West for sales, or OJ Simpson's latest arrest, somehow black people have spread the news. I heard about it via e-mail. Then a MySpace forward. Then the black internet blogs and message boards. All this before I heard any inkling of it in the mainstream television or print media. I hear that Michael Baisden was talking about it on his nationally syndicated afternoon radio show, and so was Tom Joyner in the morning. I knew about wearing black today because my best friend sent me a text message and because the DJ on the "Whispers in the Dark" radio program mentioned it before a commercial break.

I don't know what's going to happen to these young men. I hope they get a fair trial and sentencing. Merely wearing black en masse will not save these young men from unfair prosecution. Action will. May God grant the protesters safe passage during their trip, and the voice to make a change. But I do know, from seeing black people up and down Market Street wearing black this morning, that today we have proven ourselves capable of communicating effectively and acting with a joint purpose. I'm not going so far as to say that all is well among all black Americans. What I will say is that it is inspiring to see that we have the ability to communicate as well as we have on this matter. If we can do this, what more can we do given the many resources we have to communicate with each other? Imagine if, instead of stopping this massive grapevine after today, we decided to generate a list of companies to support in favor of their rivals who, let's say, have no minorities in their boardrooms but heavily target minorities for their profit? Imagine if we used this power to talk about the realities of how AIDS is coming hard for black women, affecting our families at an alarming rate? Imagine if we rebuilt New Orleans, improved child literacy, supported HBCUs, mobilized mentors for at-risk teens? Can you imagine what we could do if we acted collectively?

We don't have to imagine. What are you wearing today?

What will you - what will WE - do tomorrow?

misinformation

when i first started to attend open mics about 4 or 5 years ago, i was in love with the whole scene. i was constantly in an environment where i was a minority during the day, and being with other black folks on those nights was a refreshing thing. an avid bookworm, i love words. an avid music lover, i love songs. open mics provided me with both.

it wasn't long before i realized that certain themes were used often in the poetry i was hearing - affirmations of culture, political frustration, the fallout of economic warfare - all things that merit discussion, expression, and reflection. as time went on, i noticed that there were certain things that we folks in the audience were expected to know about. i don't have time to get into all of it, but i'll just focus on one for now: the "willie lynch mentality." i had never heard of willie lynch before attending poetry venues. afraid to show my ignorance of something that i apparently should have known about, i looked him up on the internet. my search told me that willie lynch was a caribbean slaveholder whose slave-handling tactics of mental divide-and-conquer warfare are at the root of division between africans in america today.

i'll be honest: i wasn't very impressed with his speech. i'm naturally skeptical of such things, but i let it go at that. all the things in the letter were things i'd heard others expound upon when trying to explain the current cultural and economic state of black folks. i already knew those tactics had been used. i'd learned about them in my reading before ever having read about willie lynch. the difference here is that instead of talking about the divisive tactics as something that was generally done by slaveowners during slavery, the individual willie lynch now stood out as a figure to whom these tactics could be attributed. additionally, this is a name we've never heard in school. surely this must be some information kept from us for centuries, so that we would never know we were being systematically divided all this time. that way we would be ignorant of our plight and too disorganized, too disjointed, too inept to band together and resist the mental warfare being thrust upon us - suddenly the shadow of conspiracy looms. we've been hoodwinked! we've been bamboozled!

at last now i understood what the poets were saying when they talked about willie lynch. the references to the willie lynch mentality made sense - they were referring to divisiveness among black people when they dropped his name. "willie lynch" is now a convenient term to encapsulate this concept - an abbreviation, if you will.

problem is, willie lynch is not a historical figure - he was not a man who lived and breathed and singlehandedly determined the plight of africans in america. the speech in which he outlined a program for white racial domination never happened. of course, we'd never know it, the way his speech is circulated on the internet and alluded to ad nauseum by even the most well-meaning of poets. black scholars have done the research and taken the time to discredit the myth of his existence and speech, based on linguistic and historical research, and i'm glad that they have, since i'd always been suspicious of the myth, but never had the ammunition to discredit it.

please don't misunderstand me: i know that africans were stripped of culture, language and custom, bred, beaten, separated, and intimidated in order to lose identity, unity, and the urge for freedom. this is not a myth. this is something we need to understand about our ancestors. at times we need to talk about this, and it does affect us even today. one of the ways it affects us, however, is that we go searching for meaning in things that have no authenticity. contrary to what we may have heard, kwanzaa is not an african holiday - it was created for african americans who want to pay homage to african culture. "picnic" originates from the french, and does not mean "pick-a-nigger." black men received their right to vote in the 19th century with the 15th amendment to the constitution, not in the 20th century with the voting rights act. black women's suffrage followed in the 19th amendment. and folks, listen to me close: there existed no man named willie lynch, mastermind of black submission and division.

some find that debating whether or not this speech existed is a distraction. should it matter if the man wasn't real, when we know that the tactics were real? yes, it should, and this is why: part of our problem is that many of us don't know our history in the first place. when you don't know the truth, someone can tell you anything, and in your ignorance, you will believe. we once believed that in africa we were savages that swung like monkeys from trees. we know better now - that we came from civilizations with order, governments, kingdoms, knowledge, and customs. knowledge of the truth makes all the difference. we must accept nothing less than the truth. here, the truth is that willie lynch is a modern-day, fabricated symbol and not a historical figure. asking people to make that distinction is no more a distraction than perpetuating the myth.

family, please stop getting your history from e-mail forwards, rap lyrics and open mics. please stop listening to your play cousin who just came out of jail wearing a kufi, just because he said he read a lot while he was locked up. stop spreading information until you've checked its integrity. don't be a pedestrian thinker. if you want to know who we are, get cozy with carter g. woodson. take a class at the community college. shoot, even hit up wikipedia. but always question. always try to verify.

a note to all my brothers and sisters who write poetry and lyrics - i love you. but if you're going to name-drop willie lynch, please, PLEASE, explain what you mean by that to the people who are listening to your words. and in your explanation, can you somehow include the fact that he's a symbol of reality, and not intrinsically real? we must take our weighty responsibility as griots seriously. the ancestors are watching and the children are listening.

Rewind...

September 11, 2006

Catherine Lisa LoGuidice and I have precious little in common. She was born nine years before me and lived several states away. I've never met her. Perhaps on one of her adventures, chasing down some hard rock star or heading out to defy death on a mountain biking trip, she wound up on a road trip, and maybe she passed me in a car on I-95 once and neither one of us knew it. I've come to believe that it's a smaller world than we think this is, and the Pisces within me likes to believe that the connection between me and Catherine is on purpose.

A big part of Catherine's life was love - she had the time and heart for lots of it. She loved her two god-daughters, and friends and family members. She had even found the kind of love that people pray and wish for in a fiancee, an old friend she'd known since high school. She was planning to get married to Erick Elberth, and all of her friends and family celebrated with her at a bridal shower. She was a beloved daughter to Catherine Masak and Carmelo LoGuidice, sister to Lucy and Michael, and an aunt to many. A part-time veterinary assistant, Catherine loved animals, too. One thing that she definitely shared with me was a love of reading - Anne Rice was one of her favorites! I can imagine her four cats finding other things to do while she got all wrapped up in some intriguing story packed with horror and suspense.

Her life seemed full. Her taste in music - on the edge. Her taste in stories - on the edge. Her sky diving and mountain biking - on the edge. This woman, of tattooes, intricate Halloween costumes, and horror movies wasn't one-sided, though. Her brother Michael knew that she loved Thoreau so much that she once travelled to his famous retreat, Walden Pond. She also took up Tai Chi, an ancient art characterized by its graceful and gentle movements that inspire health and inner peace.

What's crazy is that you could walk past Cathy, as her friends and family called her, on a crowded street - bump into her maybe - and never know all of the wonderfully interesting stuff about the woman you were bumping into.

When the planes hit those towers on September 11, 2001, I was in bed, getting ready to wake up and go to class across town. Catherine was at work. She was an assistant bond trader for a firm called Cantor Fitzgerald. As a nation, we were all shaken and confused while the tragedy was happening, but I can't imagine how Cathy and her family felt in particular on that morning.

She died that day, five years ago, at the age of thirty. She was on the 105th floor in the first tower, and it's pretty likely that she just wasn't able to get to a safe place. Like many of us, she hadn't thought much about the World Trade Center attack in 1993 since it happened. Her job was at the World Trade Center, so that's where she stayed for the several years to follow.

When she was memorialized, donations to the ASPCA were requested instead of flowers, honoring her animal-loving spirit. After her death, and the deaths of 2,995 others, I mourned, wearing black for two days and crying for many more, shocked and deeply moved by the television images of people wandering the area near the towers with signs seeking their missing loved ones. At the time, and even now, I am just a fellow American with no direct connection to the tragedy. But I suspect that Cathy's family felt the impact of the tragedy much more intensely, and I suspect that today, and every day, they remember Cathy's life more lovingly than I ever could. They, and the other 2,995 families of the deceased and missing, have my most reverent sympathy.

I hope that those who knew Cathy can get joy from their memories of what they loved most about her, and that if they are able to learn anything from the way she lived her life, that they'll honor her memory by doing so. (9/11/07 - This is updated to add that her loved ones think of her always and often. You may read their words to Cathy at the Legacy.com link, which is below this message.)

May her spirit rest in peace.

Thanks to Legacy.com and CNN.com for information on Cathy that served as the source of this tribute.

capitalism

ok, i'll finally expound at length on this situation with black people wanting to boycott vh1 because they have supposedly rejected a show featuring intelligent black women who are willing to date interracially. it's been going around on the internet for some time now. the logic here is that vh1 is racist because they're more than willing to show "flavor of love" and "charm school," which feature black women behaving badly, but they've supposedly said that "viewers are more interested in seeing black women in a ghetto role," so showing educated black women isn't something they want to do.

i can't help but think that if vh1 had actually decided to do the show they've purportedly rejected, then folks would be up in arms about this proposed show about black women dating non-black men, because people are tired of that whole black men and women can't get along stereotype. i can hear it now, "oh, so when you finally do put good black women on your network, they only get the spotlight if they choose white men over black men?" if it ain't one thing, it's another.

do i think vh1's position is righteous? certainly not. but i understand it. they're selling what sells. and something makes me question why vh1 wasn't boycotted when flavor of love and charm school got started. is it only in comparison to a show about educated black women that people can realize how tacky, trifling, and bad-for-our-collective-image their already existing shows are? vh1 is in the business of airing fluff. they've found their niche, and they're sticking to it. there is no requirement to balance out their programming when there are fi'tyleven other channels in folks' cable packages. i figure they're thinking, "you wanna see positive images? turn to a pbs documentary on the civil rights movement, or watch the autobiography of miss jane pittman or whatever they're showing on tvone now."

i don't expect fairness or balance or righteousness from vh1- why should i? we couldn't even get that from bob johnson. this market isn't driven by that. it's driven by who can grab the most eyes for those advertisements. that's why bob johnson is a rich man. i can't stand what he did with his network, but i can't knock his understanding of his business. he didn't make a network for us. he made a network for companies who wanted to advertise to us. vh1 is doing the same - grabbing attention, not changing the world or catering to our higher sensibilities.

cooning sells.

if we don't like that, then we should stop buying products from all the advertisers who sponsor cooning on all of tv and radio - not just vh1. we should stop celebrating people who make it a point to act a fool in the public eye, like karrine steffans, flavor flav, and 50 cent among others, just because they're black. folks become transfixed on every single train wreck aired on tv and radio and then have the nerve to cry foul when the media wants to capitalize on the (merited) perception that people like to watch foolishness? it's not them, it's us. americans, black and white and purple, patronize minstrel shows.

don't hate the playa, CHANGE the game.

note: i don't watch flavor of love or charm school, i don't own one 50 cent album, i don't watch bet, and i've not read ms. steffans' tawdry tales.

is there a "we"?

The Assertion

"N*****s destroy, Negroes assimilate, Black people build."

this is what led me to ask the question a few posts back about assimilation. i heard this sentence about two weeks ago, and it is still working my nerves. never mind for a moment the unnecessary use of the n-word (i've come to hate this "n-word" term as much as the word it unsuccessfully attempts to skirt, by the way), since i've already gone on that diatribe, and the debate will likely never die.

what's more troubling to me is the way this phrase is so divisive, as if we need any more division amongst us. all this finger pointing and "they" this and "they" that is so spinning-wheels-and-getting-no-damn-where. add that to the problem that none of these words are defined. two of them are fairly easy - destroy and build. the other words are not so simple. and based on context clues and personal anecdotes, even though i suspect that a black person hearing this sentence would know what the sentence means, they shouldn't just accept it word for word. instead, they should question.

De-constructing Semantics

now if i'd tried to get this same point across, i'd have said in the alternative that "ignorant, unappreciative people destroy," and that "progressive, positive people build." but that still leaves the middle part. this is where i really get puzzled. what is the difference between a "Negro" and a "black" person? and what (this is the really nitty-gritty gristle and marrow-in-the-bone of my problem here) is "assimilation," anyway? see, the speaker of this sentence is a brother i respect - i know he means well, and i see his point that we need to focus our attitudes and our actions on doing the best we can for our situation as a people. but this "Negroes assimilate" thing is where the whole thing gets derailed.

does assimilation mean moving out of the neighborhood to a place with bigger houses, less crime and better schools? does it mean speaking standard english? does it mean putting a relaxer in your hair? perhaps assimilation means playing golf on saturday with colleagues, or watching Friend.s reruns while baking chicken to eat with artichokes. maybe it means marrying a white person and having beige, amber-haired, hazel-eyed kids. it probably includes preferring E! to BET or Oprah magazine to Essence magazine. does assimilation mean purposely naming your daughter Katherine instead of Keesha? or purposely naming your son Matthew instead of Marquise? where do we draw the line? what is assimilation and what isn't? and if a Black person does "assimilate," what makes them a Negro instead of a Black person? for the record, some of the greatest Black figures of the 20th century were self-described Negroes, when Negro with a capital N was the most dignified way to refer to us Africans in America. have the past 40 years changed the meaning of Negro so much that it must become an insult? an assertion that someone has lost their Soul with a capital S? why are some of us always on the hunt to find words to malign each other?

Problems on Every Side

perhaps my friend's issue is that when people of color get involved in middle-class culture, and take on middle-class bills and obligations, they are less hungry for change in the neighborhoods they or their parents or grandparents left behind, where people who look like them still struggle without them, although they are probably best equipped with the education and funds to help make a difference. they are more worried about job security than agitating for change. they're less likely to tutor or clean up their old block or become a mentor, because they're busy hustling to pay mortgages and student loans (and keep up with the joneses). they're probably more likely to blame people left behind in the old neighborhood for not hustling like they or their parents or grandparents have done, both because it may relieve some of their guilt for turning away from the shells of the left behind neighborhoods and also because they do have a point about the "i'm a victim" mindset. black victims of racism and poverty have been helping themselves for centuries, and there is no reason in this post-Civil rights era to stop now. is this an assimilationist stance? to expect people to do what they can with what means they have? to expect such achievement of yourself and excel, like our ancestors fought to enable you to do?

part of "black people build"-ing (i assume the speaker categorizes himself in this group) is recognizing that change requires power, and power is not free. one thing middle-class black folks understand is how to put their time and effort into work that generates money. and in this country, money is power, and poor people get the shaft. poor people could learn this lesson from the Katherines and Matthews. and in turn, Katherine and Matthew could re-learn a thing or two about remembering where they came from from Keesha and Marquise, who pool their funds with their grandmother when that gap between this check and the next gets too long, or who watch their sister's baby after school when she starts her shift every afternoon so she won't have to spend light bill money on daycare.

Reality Check

certainly - point out destructive and selfish attitudes when it will help us adjust our focus to what is important. but there's no need for the name calling. no need for the division. we all have problems. too many of us from various economic places on the spectrum have our priorities jacked up. pointing fingers at "them" from whatever point of view you come from is a sure way to further alienate us from each other. how then, will we learn from each other or help each other, if we can't tolerate our differences, let alone appreciate them?

weariness

lawd, i'm so tired of people sometimes. who do they think they are? seriously. i don't know if it's current trends in the culture - people getting paid to opine on things authoritatively (and loudly) on the news, blogs where people can beknight themselves experts, the general decline in civility in common interactions and discourse... maybe all of the above. but i'm so tired of the self-righteous. so very tired of the rude. so annoyed with the close minded. i can deal with and forgive the people who don't have (or use) creativity to think beyond what others have told them - ignorance and arrogance are not the same thing. but people who claim to know so much better than others, then fall victim to the same flaws as the rest - they really need to fall back. not because they make mistakes, but because they are wrong in trying to say that they are incapable of making mistakes. politics is arguable. religion is arguable. sometimes there are no absolute truths that anyone can lay claim to. certainly, support your point when you have one. stand up for your opinion. but don't elevate yourself in your own mind so much that you can't respect the people to whom you're speaking. i've been talked down to so much in the past week or so. it doesn't hurt my love for myself. it challenges me, sure. but more than anything, it disappoints me. because i catch more hell from my own people warring with each other than i get from "the other," and that's real talk. sometimes it feels like it's always a grind. always a trial. i know we can't be simple, 'cause being black in this country ain't no simple thing. and i know we won't always agree, and that's a good thing, 'cause i don't want us all to err together. but i believe a certain amount of respect for each other would go so very far. maybe if we weren't all trying to be right it would be better. the best, the most righteous, the most conscious, the hardest, the richest, the smartest, the realest... when did this become a competition? where is the humility? where is the concern?

assimilation

hey there, family!

first, thanks for checking in and reading even though i haven't been posting everyday like i used to. it means a lot to me every time someone leaves a comment or puts a hit on my page. it lets me know i'm not talking to myself.

second, in light of my confidence in you, i have a question i'd like you to answer, if you please. the other night i was at the poetry spot and my brother from another mother brought up the concept of assimilation. i'd like to know what you think: in the context of being black in america, what does it mean to assimilate? i have tried on my own to answer that very question for the past several days now, and i cannot come up with anything solid. i wonder why? perhaps your input may help me understand why i have such a hard time answering that question...

my own race

yesterday, i set foot in a gym for the first time in years.

i joined it just this week! and it's about time. i had this one post talking all kinds of smack about how i wasn't paying money to sweat in front of strangers. whatever! it's over a year later and i weigh about 10 pounds more than i did when i started this blog. i've outgrown too many clothes. i'm too far gone to be happy wearing a bikini in public. so i bit the bullet and bought a gym membership. however - i still don't have a bathroom scale. and i'm still not on a diet, even though i eat well about 80% of the time.

my first day was okay. i took a tour with one of the girls who works there, and she showed me how to use the weight machines and the treadmill. then i used the treadmill to go for a mile - walking/jogging - i am NOT a runner. then i used almost every weight machine there. i was at the gym for about 45 minutes. depending on how soon i can get my mile down, i might be able to get out in half an hour, and still get home in time to catch the news. my only concern is boredom. but i have some ideas. first, i'll switch from the treadmill to some other cardio machine, like the bike, or that other walking thing where you use your arms too (i don't know its name) to keep my cardio varied. second, once the music in the gym gets old, i'll use my z.une to listen to music. sometimes, depending on whether i use the bike or what, i may even be able to read a magazine while i work. i've got a year's financial commitment to work on this, and i'm hoping my thriftiness will keep me going, if for nothing else than to get my money's worth.

for me, the weight machines are where the treasure is. my main reason for joining was to tone up, not lose weight. that's why i'm keeping my cardio limited to jussst enough to get my heart rate hopping. to me, the most important part of working out is to keep my shape as i get older and my metabolism changes. it's totally a vanity thing. i've never been fat, but i don't wanna get there. i want to get rid of the cellulite forming on my thighs. i want my triceps to stop wobbling like my seventh grade teacher with the wig and fuzzy moustache. i don't want to outgrow the clothes i can still fit. i want a firm, developed thigh and butt area. i want to flatten my stomach back out and add definition to my abs. and i want my beloved's eyes to bug out of his head on our honeymoon one day.

i don't know how soon i'll get to where i want to be. i noticed that other women are using higher weights on the weight machines than me. that's okay. maybe they've been there for a while and have worked up to the weights they use. maybe they haven't but they're just stronger. it doesn't make a difference either way. i could try heavier weights but i could hurt myself, so i won't. i will go at my own pace - run walk/jog my own mile and use my own weight limits. much like with everything else - education, finances, personal relationships, my writing, lifetime milestones - i have to run my own race and work with what i have until things change.

i have to remember to take a picture as soon as possible in a bikini, so that a year from now, i can remember what the beginning of my race looked like. that is my comparison point - not people on tv or in the gym.

Mr. Trotter

why oh why did the eagles release jeremiah trotter? just why.

no, really, why?

'cause i don't want him to go. dude is a hard worker, a veteran, a team player, and a fan favorite. and the eagles let him go? it just ain't right.

mr. trotter, you will be sorely missed.

third first time

last night was the third time i stepped into an open mic venue after not having been there. i've been on hiatus for a while, life's been changing, so i came back to see if it still held the magic for me.

i was so inspired.

some of the old familiar faces were there, and it was really good to see them and hear from them. but it was really good to see that most of the folks on stage - even the band - were new faces. i heard new poetry and music for the first time in almost a year. and i was so impressed that i was thinking to myself, "i have to step my game up." i'm really happy to have been inspired to do more and do better.

as usual, while sitting at the venue, ideas for poems happened to me, but of course, i didn't take my notebooks with me, so those ideas are floating around in this head - i may or may not see them again. but between hearing live music for the first time in months, being able to really play with my media player, and all the singing i've been doing lately, i suspect that i may tackle that CD project i wanted to attempt before life interrupted me.

we shall see...

rewind

(Every year I have on here is totally approximate. So if I get one wrong, forgive a sista.)

It takes two - Rob Base and EZ Rock, 1987 - Learning all the words to me and my classmate's favorite rap song for the first time, and finally accepting hip hop as my own, and not my older cousins'.

Tomorrow - Quincy Jones, 1990. Fifth grade graduation, the end of the innocence...

Real Love - MJB, 1991. Getting used to the idea that being the teacher's favorite meant I was going to have to fight like Sophia.

Lately - Jodeci's remake, 1993. That long, long, lazy summer in Virginia's woods. Wearing daisy dukes and racing my cousin out in the country.

My Life - MJB, 1994. The background music of about the next three years of my life. I just couldn't get it out of rotation on the way to school, hanging with my girls, falling in and out of teenage love...

On and On - Erykah Badu, 1996. Finally knowing I wasn't the only one who wanted to be a little weird, wear clothes without labels, and burn some incense. Senior year I finally started getting up the courage to just be glory.

Strength - John P. Kee, 1997. That damn calculus class wound up making me go to summer school, but at least I didn't get sent home like I thought they would do to me. This is the year I was baptized.

Love Like This - Faith Evans, 1998. I never knew there was a love like S-G-Rho. That fall was worth every minute.

No More Drama - MJB - 2003. It was time for me to say goodbye to him and move on with my life, and this song on repeat was the battle refrain.

Golden - Jill Scott, 2004. Ironically, this is one of my least favorite songs of Jill's. But it's what was on the radio when I finally dumped academia off my schedule. It's become a time warp.

Change For Me - Eric Roberson, 2005. I love Philly. This will always take me to that parking lot after that open mic when it just got real good to me.

rocks. trees. words.

the question was posed on a message board i frequent: a poster was asking what she was missing - why do some black people use the n-word knowing how it is an insult to our ancestors. i got a bit long winded, as usual, but i thought it'd make a food for thought blog post. liketa heah it heah it go:

my take on it - some folks aren't impressed with the "what about the ancestors" argument. to some black folks, it sounds like some old "i celebrate kwanzaa and eat bean pies and so should you" argument (no offense to those reading this who do, but you know that isn't popular in black mainstream thought, and that's my point). some folks are actually eager to forget the ancestors. maybe remembering slavery makes them feel inferior, so they don't want to acknowledge it??? maybe their background and society teach them there is no value in the past of their people - not in a black history month, who invented this or that type of way, but more in a black people, living or dead, are not inherently valuable type of way.

neither are some of the people who use the word moved by the "the word implicates us all argument," (especially since they are either convinced that there really is a group of black people superior to another and they belong to it, OR that they are in fact a n*gger and "what's so wrong with that?"). they see the word as just a word. that's it. like "rock" or "tree." it fits the bill for what they're trying to say when they're trying to say it - much like any cuss word may fit the bill when you stub your toe unexpectedly, or when they're trying to describe something and free association just floats that particular word up first. for example, my argument for using the word "sh*t" is that if it fits the bill, why not use it (as long as it's the right place and time)? it seems lots of people who use the n-word feel the same way. thing is, "sh*t" doesn't lynch the esteem of a people - my own people - every time it's said.

once upon a time, calling somebody black instead of Negro or colored was an insult - fighting words. then somebody decided "black is beautiful" and folks were digging that. it grew into the colloquial use for black people that i just used and you probably didn't even notice just now because it's so commonplace.

similarly, someone has decided that n*gger isn't something we need to be insulted by... as long as it doesn't come from a white person. this double standard totally negates the point of saying it shouldn't sting, by the way. it doesn't take the sting away - it reinforces our acknowledgment that white people and other non-blacks have a uniquely owned ability to sting us with it.

i'll never forget, they had this show on a while back where a black family and a white family changed races with makeup and went out into the world. the black family's teenage son was hanging out with some white kids while wearing makeup that made him look like another white kid. one of the other white kids said "n*gger" about someone else, and the black kid didn't blink. he didn't think to mention on GP that word isn't right to use. it wasn't because he was trying to play the role of a white kid since he had the makeup on, but because, as he explained to his irate parents after they found out about his passive acceptance of the word and called him on it, it's just a word that doesn't mean anything to him. his parents were crushed and embarrassed. they questioned how they brought the boy up that he could hear a white guy use "n*gger" in context and not feel anything...

similarly, i wonder how black people can use it on each other and not feel anything... i guess if you have no or low esteem for your people, why would you care if each use of that word attacks their value?

my story

i started this blog at a very exciting time in my life for me. i'd just moved to a new location, picked up a new hobby, reawakened my passion for writing, and was in love with sharing my take on the whole thing.

so many things have changed since i started this blog. my life is about different things now. it's funny to pause and take stock and see all the differences. but i've been on the grind, working on my career, and it has limited my time for getting it in.

and what's even more strange to me is that now that i've got a little breathing room, i don't know what to do with myself. i've got time on my hands and no passion for spending it in any particular way. somehow, spending all my free evenings at the open mics and blogging everyday seems like a step backwards instead of forward. somehow, putting my novel together doesn't mean as much to me as it did this time last year. i feel a little bit like it's december and i'm trying to figure out how i want my year to go. there are so many possibilities open to me, and just the idea of choosing how to spend my time is like being in the biggest grocery store in the world and being told to pick the thing i'd like most to eat...

all weekend, i've been reading octavia butler's patternist series. y'all, she got me having dreams and expecting to see things while driving down the street. i really respect her imagination. i'ma keep cozied up with this series until i'm done, and set out on the task of figuring out the next chapters of my own story when i get around to it.

baby oh baby

a lady across the street just had a baby in the house. i'm on the couch minding my own business and i heard screaming. i thought it was someone in the street wiling. then i thought, dang, she sounds like she's having a baby or something. then i heard glass breaking. what is going on?!?!?

so i looked outside, and there was a police officer standing on a stoop in front of an open door across the street. she's looking all over the place, talking into her radio. then i realized there really WAS a lady having a baby across the street! and the responding officer was alone. shoot, i called action news. maybe they'll be on tv tonight.

but anyway, cop car after cop car showed up. a bunch of men running in the house then shrugging their shoulders as they walked out. the lady cop was like, "hurry up, i'm not kidding," to one of the cops who arrived. and the lady in labor kept on hollering. then finally, she stopped hollering like someone was stabbing her, and a few minutes later, a cop came out with a bundle in a blanket. they took the baby to the ambulance, which had arrived by then, and everyone was smiling and shaking that cop's hand (after he took his gloves off).

it was a healthy baby boy, i heard one cop say to passersby. a few minutes later, the mom walked out of the house, very slowly, and they put her on a stretcher and then the ambulance took them to the hospital. this all took less than 20 minutes to play out.

wow.

i will most definitely be having an epidural, thankyouverymuch. call me a punk. i'll be that.

anyway, happy birthday little boy. welcome to the world. you better get your mama good presents EVERY may.


***EDIT: the news spoke to the cop who responded. turns out the baby wasn't born in the apartment - it was so urgent that he was born in the hallway, and his umbilical cord was wrapped around his neck! but one of the responding officers was able to free up the little guy, and everything turned out okay. even though i think his mama might have broke a vase or something...

invisible to visible to...

today i went to the country's first presidential residence on my lunch hour. it's really just a big excavation site where the residence used to be. i had been reading about it in the paper - how they planned to create an exhibit there and everything until folks realized that president washington had slaves there, and excavation revealed that there were artifacts on the site. right now plans to build the exhibit are being revisited, because planners are trying to figure out how not to lose the wealth of history and information that have been sitting in the dirt there for hundreds of years, virtually forgotten until now.

i wanted to go after reading an article about two older black women who make a daily pilgrimage to the site to see everything that's going on. they wanted to see whatever they could see pertaining to washington's slaves that lived there. shoot, so did i! there's a platform built on a corner of the excavation site from which you can view the foundation walls of the president's residence, including the precursor to washington's oval office, an old well shaft, and most fascinating to me - the tunnel that slaves used to get back and forth from their quarters to their master's quarters. it was used so that as they did their chores, they would be out of sight while the president was holding court with other heads of state, dignitaries and representatives. even back in the 1700's americans specialized in not actually seeing the social inequities we had.

i was kind of hoping to feel something important while i was there, reading the placards explaining the site and gazing over the excavation, imagining slaves and statesmen traversing over the space in such close proximity to each other. most times when i think of slavery, i think of fieldhands far removed from so-called gentlemen planters over in the estate house. here in philly, they were right up underneath each other, building tunnels and such so that the slaves wouldn't be visibly underfoot. but you know, as i tried to feel something special about being ground where our ancestors were enslaved, i remembered that everywhere i go in this city, on this east coast, there were slaves. most especially in my native state of virginia. i left a little disappointed. i wanted more knowledge. i wanted to see the artifacts, which are not yet on display. i wanted to feel some vindication for the slaves - that now they are no longer invisible and people come to visit the house they worked and lived in everyday, seeking information on them. but that's not really vindication. i work less than a quarter mile from the site. i have two degrees, and i don't have to empty anyone's chamber pot or fetch anyone's water - and there are millions of africans in this country who can say the same. for the ancestors, maybe that comes a little bit closer to, if not vindication, then maybe a salve for their injury.

it was worth my time though, and i highly recommend that everyone in or visiting the philly area take a look when they get a chance. there's a possibility that all of this excavation could be filled and built over if they can't get up enough money and creativity to figure out how to keep it on display, and time is limited. if they keep it open to the elements too long, it will wear away.

by the way, it's at 6th and market, ironically right near the liberty bell and all of philly's other monuments to freedom in america.

http://www.ushistory.org/presidentshouse/index.htm

check it out.

storm's sabbath

last night, lightning flashed off in the sky as i hustled home. when i got in, i started to go about my business as usual. i scuttled about, unpacking my bag, putting things away, getting something to eat... all the while, the storm approached, getting more and more intense. a memory beckoned me to look back at the times i spent with my grandmother down south. every time a thunderstorm came through as they are apt to do on long summer afternoons, she would turn off the television and everything else but the refrigerator, and just sit. my cousins and i had to just sit with her. you see, when a storm came, we sat still and silent, because it was the Creator's turn to talk and our turn to listen. in my youth, i thought that was nice and all, and rather quaint, but storms had a funny way of messing with my cartoons that i didn't appreciate. and i didn't hear nothing but thunder anyway. so far as my opinion went, my grandma was just being old, country, and superstitious. i respected her, but not so much what she was doing. once i almost had my life ended prematurely, because i asked my grandma to explain further. patience wasn't my strong suit. apparently, neither was good sense.

there was something about that memory that made me put my book down, get into a quiet dark place, open the blinds in the midst of the night, and lie there, quietly watching the sky, feeling the rumbling of thunder, and acknowledging God. it was good for me. the elder i wax, the wiser the elders appear.

it's way past getting old...

full story here.

abbreviated story - some folks at a church in california, while celebrating a graduation from their Christian school, dressed up as slaves in blackface, and then posted pictures of the event on the internet.

Caption reads: " The slaves served lemonade- it was a riot"


Caption reads: "Someday we gonna be leavin' When a workin' day is done"


Caption reads: "Bringing home the runaway slave in the Senior skit"


Caption reads: "Pastors Charles and Wilma Spencer with some of the students"

i don't think what these people did was indicative of hatred so much as it was particularly indicative of indifference.

i also am tired of hearing people say they didn't mean anything by it.

what you meant doesn't matter. from the white students at parties dressing up like blacks and latinos and masquerading in their respective stereotypes to the white people in these photos, what you knew about the history behind your actions and chose to ignore because of callous indifference towards the concerns of black folks is what matters. it shows that you have a lack of respect for black people, and a lack of concern for how you knew your actions would be perceived once you put them on the internet. no american i've ever met who has been raised in american society with a television set is so sheltered that they are ignorant of race relations with blacks in this country. no american i've ever met believes that they can participate in such mockery and not at least suspect that if they are seen, they will face criticism and accusations from those of us who recognize the lack of sound judgment and social decorum in your actions. you do these things because despite your knowledge, you just don't care.

you people are probably nice to the black folks you see in the drugstore or at the bank. you probably don't belong to the klan, or pass out white supremacist literature along with your tracts about being saved. you more than likely believe that you are good, fair people and that you are not racists. but when some fool said, let's go out and pretend to be slaves, another said, ooh good idea, oh - you know what would be funny? if we got some blackface too, and some slave costumes! and not one of you listened to your conscience, opened your mouth and said what you were thinking - that this was not a good idea. you didn't want to be the liberal tree hugging overly politically correct wet blanket, and you cared more about going along with what you knew was wrong than standing up for what you knew was right, especially knowing that in your lily white church and your lily white town, no blacks would be around to make a stink about it anyway. but our Creator calls us to be bigger in character than that.

in fact, i am probably giving you too much credit - maybe you didn't have that nagging thought to question what you all were about to do. maybe it didn't even occur to you that this could be offensive. but i doubt it. perhaps i'm giving you too much credit in another way - maybe you DO hand out white supremacist tracts along with your tracts about the Holy Ghost. maybe you happen to have some blackface in the attic, next to your daddy's klan sheets and the photo album full of lynchings your granddaddy took your daddy to. i could be wrong, it could be hatred and not indifference. can you blame me for wondering so?

and yet, as a Christian, i am called to be bigger in character than what i can ascertain from your actions and forgive you. i am also called to try to look past your actions and see the human being there - to recognize that just because you've done these things, you're not any less redeemable from your wrongs than i am from mine. i'm called to recognize that you are just a small group of white people, and that not all white people feel this way or act this way. it just seems like at least once a week i get this call. i'm tired of this call ringing off the hook.

the italicized above

did you ever wish you could temporarily suspend your senses for a little while so you could take a mental vacation? i think i might be struggling with sensory overload right now.

on the way home from work, i had to catch the bus i caught. why couldn't i have caught another bus? let me explain. there was another passenger on the bus who was listening to headphones that were so loud that i could hear every word and horn line in the song from several seats away. i wanted so badly to tap that person on the shoulder and tell them, "you're going to ruin your hearing like that." i have in fact done that a few times before. you know, there's a certain way that you can talk to strangers in which there doesn't have to be an issue between you and them, just chatter. i know how to do that, and i like to do that. i'm no fool - i stay away from taboo topics like telling girls with the muffin-top effect what not to wear, or telling women how not to speak to their children - some things will only lead to altercations. i haven't been in one in my whole adult life, and i'm not trying to start. this whole italicized section will become much more important - keep on reading - i will refer you back to this.

at some stop, we pick up a passenger who sits right next to me. i picked my head up from the affordable housing article i was reading and i started being friendly, chattering to her jokingly about how that person with the headphones was ruining their hearing and if they were within arm's reach i would tap them on the shoulder and tell them so. she agreed, the music was so loud she could hear it clearly, too. i joked about the person's eardrums screaming for help - she laughed, i laughed, all was well in bus land. she said that you have to be careful though because you don't always know who you're talking to, and some people might wanna... at which point i told her the italicized above, and added something like, "how am i gonna just get punked by the idea of talking to a stranger when i don't even know them like that? part of the reason people don't talk to each other now is because people aren't used to talking - that ain't right." she told me i did have a point.

shortly after i got back into my article -which i still haven't finished - the girl next to me recognized someone she knew on the bus.

"nicole."
nicole turns around, but doesn't see anyone she recognizes.
"niCOLE."
nicole turns around again but still can't see who's calling her.
"you hear me talking to you, dag! NICOLE!"
finally some eye contact. "hey!"
"where you stay at, nicole?"
"number street and cross-street."
"oh for real? i stay at othernumber street and othercross-street all the time."
"oh that's not too far. i be through that way sometimes."

chatter chatter chatter... move it along folks, nothing to see here. UNTIL:

"yeah, nicole, i be at the chinese store sometimes, such-and-such a place, or right at the corner."
"okay."
"yeah, i got them 25's... them 75's... them 25's will get you, for real. they be lasting for a long time."

huh?

"i be out there all the time, nicole. i usually have my kids with me. i got three kids. people be like, 'you be hustling with your kids,' i be like, 'yeah.' "
"i might have to come through for one of those 25's, you know how i do."
"you know how i do too."
"you do it with your kids?"
"no, just the first one, my daughter. she alright though, she just got asthma, but that runs in my family, so she probably woulda got it anyway. my other son, he was five [lbs] ten [oz], but ain't nothing wrong with him now. i got asthma... my mom got it... my youngest son, he's on a machine... but i didn't do it with the other kids."
"that's good."
"i mean, i don't know with my kids if it was my family or me, but yeah, but i do smoke though. people say if you're going to do it, just don't do the cigarettes too, but i do what i wanna do, shoooot, i smoke whatever i want. i smoke both!"
"i know that's right!"
"but forget me, though - my mom! my mom been smoking for years. my mom can smoke and smoke... maaan..."

and this whole time i was sitting here thinking, naw they playing. ain't no way somebody is gonna be all up on this bus putting their business out like that, and all loud where everybody can hear everything you're saying. they are joking. they have to be playing. but smokey the bear and nicole just kept on going like they were actually for real until we came to my stop and both i and the woman who was sitting on the other side of smokey the bear got off the bus.

i couldn't help it. "did i just hear what i thought i heard?"
"yes, you did. and i didn't want to hear it, but i heard it too."
"i can't believe that she would just say all of that for everyone to hear, where she is, EVERYTHING."
"i know. i heard you talking to her earlier and was thinking how is this same girl..."
"i KNOW. and it's funny, i had just got finished telling her the italicized above, but i mean, what are you supposed to say to that?"

i was already thinking about my blog, y'all.

the lady from the bus and i had our friendly stranger chatted a little bit more. for the second time that day i was reminded by her that you never know how somebody will react to you talking to them. i offered her the story of when i was on the bus and these two women were arguing really loudly about how one of them, a social worker, threatened to call the authorities on the other one, who had a child in her lap, for how she had threatened the child with some bodily harm. i told the lady who was walking with me that i am a poet, and my poet friends and i are always talking about the community, and how we all need to be accountable for each other. but i asked her rhetorically how i was supposed to be accountable for smokey the bear on the bus? tell her about how she shouldn't be doing what she's doing, blasting her business all out, setting a bad example for her kids, making them asthmatic and probably developmentally delayed? what could i have done as my sister's keeper for her? we got to my stop on the walk, and said "take care," in parting as she kept on walking home.

but then, as i was pulling out my keys, i heard her talking to me. she was walking towards my door saying, "mentor. be a mentor. you wanted to know what to do? be a mentor. but not to girls like her," she pointed in the direction of our bus stop.

i offered, "to those who want the help? not girls like her?"

she agreed. and with that, we parted ways for real.

i am much calmer now than i was when i sat down to write this.

get hungry

how much do you really want it?

are you willing to get up in the morning before the sun can be seen high in the sky? are you willing to open your heavy eyelids one more time to put in that much more effort before you catch what sleep you can?

truth is, you don't deserve it. at least not for free. not sweat-less. you can claim whatever you want in the name of the anchor of your faith. you can light candles and incense. kneel on your knees until they become unaccustomed to anything like standing on your own two feet, but i assure you that unless you use the gifts you've already been given, you won't get any closer to it. you can visualize and chant, stick pictures on your refrigerator, tell your friends and family - anyone in the world who will listen - but for all your daydreaming and positive thinking, bell ringing and posturing, anything less than putting in the work will not do it for you.

please, do dream. please, do imagine.

please don't just stop there.

for all the energy that you could expend worrying about your ability, worrying about how much you don't know, worrying about the possible pitfalls, worrying about every matter your idling mind could allow to trouble you, you could be getting busy boning up on the knowledge you need, practicing for the experience you need, preparing and clearing the way so you will have the elbow room to get the thing done. you don't need the prayer for magic. you need the prayer to support you mentally and spiritually as you put in your part of the work. you need the prayer for focus so you can rely on the wisdom and strength of the World's Most Successful Ally, instead of being distracted by the world's ever common doubters and detractors.

every article you read and story you hear that inspires you doesn't have to be a mere inspiration - it depends on whether or not you make it a catalyst. why not you? you can achieve the very same thing or even something better. never mind that you've thought that nothing extraordinary has happened to you or will happen to you - it is ordinary thinking like that which makes the extraordinary elude your grasp, if in fact, you have even made the effort to reach out and grab for it. if you haven't yet, you have a choice. you can reach - really truly extend yourself with the belief that your effort is not for naught. or you can go with what you know, catch your extra zzz's, and make yourself comfortable, because where ever you are right now is where ever you will be until you decide you really want it.