Ain't I a woman?

Complicated Inspiration

2007-03-05T13:25:00.000-08:00

I went to "Get my praise on" with Deb yesterday and it was amazing. Divine, actually. It was the first time I have ventured into a church just to go in over a decade, maybe even more. I wasn't even married in a church. I did that at the "We've only just begun" wedding chapel. Don't go there. Statistically, the average American marriage lasts 7 years. I nearly doubled that.

I did have my kids baptized in a church and they continued Sunday school and even their educations in parochial schools, but I've always kept my distance. I have many reasons for it. The primary excuse I used was that I was born a Baptist, raised Lutheran, educated Catholic and chose to be baptized Episcopal and even with that, during college, I experimented with Buddism, and currently I enjoy reading about Islam and Kabbalah. Not because they happen to be the thing to do. I've had the books I'm reading on the subjects for over a decade too...but more so because I'm at a point in life when defining my higher power has greater meaning for me.

So when Debbie asked me to go to church, I hmmm'd and ha'd and said "Sure" but I wasn't certain I would really commit and go. I told her I would see how I felt. That's me code for, "Girl, it depends if I'm sleeping in or not". To Debbie's credit, she knows me well. She sent an email to all of my email accounts and left a message on my cell phone and landline that said, 'We're going to get our praise on tomorrow. I'll pick you up at 10". Well, no room for no.

It worked. I was dressesd and re'd to go and prime to get my God on when she arrived. The church itself is a large building that could easily pass for a community center, which really makes sense. The Church she attends more closely resembles one that you would find lower on the Mason-Dixon and yes, there were theatrics, but ya know when someone gets the spirit, I say, "It's your thang, do what ya wanna do. I can't tell ya how to catch a groove". I do the Salt N Pepa version because that's just my GEN. Do what it do.

We strolled in, waited until the ushers seated us, which is easy for Debbie since she is in a wheelchair...she's always got a good seat for every show, ya know? The service began with some bits of testimony where people acknowledge how God has moved in their lives, some divine miracle like knocking out that rent payment. No comment. Then, the choir got up and sang and sang and sang. Their voices lifted, the old addage of 'when two or more are gathered' was ever present and I felt it.

The soul was there. There was feeling behind every word they used in praise of God's work. For some reason, it was vastly different than the vocal performances that I've witnessed at every church since arriving in this state 30 years ago. Well, 32,but I didn't want to date myself. I don't want to make it a difference in white and black, but it just happens to be just that. The difference between Amy Grant and CeCe Winans I guess. I was so moved during one song that I reached into my purse, grabbed my handy dandy notebook ( yes, I know I've watched Blue's Clues too often) and started writing. I was inspired and a woman's story came to me. The words came faster than my fingers could write, but I got the nuts and bolts down. I got a title as well and for me, that's the skeleton. Now, I can use my mind to tell this story and add flesh to those bones.

The sermon was about Jacob and Esau and I have no intention of telling it again. There are enough versions of the Bible out there for anyone that cares, but the Bishop wanted to know which of the brothers we all were. There is no doubt I am a Jacob. I get in where I fit in and when I don't fit in, I make a way and GET THERE. My mind is my trump card and I carry it in a pocket protector called faith.

What's complicated about that, you may ask? Well, nothing really...except that on the way home after the 3 hour service, I was dicussing a personal situation with Deb. I told her that sometimes it's almost like we need a bolt of lightening to tell us if we are on the right path or not. Just then, a car swerved in front of us with a window decal that had one word on it. It was definitely specific to what we were just discussing and so so out of place. There are no coincidences. That bolt of lightening is quite complicated because it means I have to take action and be accountable in a situation that affects more than just me. What can I say, it's complicated.

17 inches of snow on the wall

2007-03-02T05:30:00.000-08:00

It's 7:30am and I just rescued my dog from the snow bank outside my office door. Ok, it's not an office, it's a garage, but I do have a desk, tv and laptop here...so by the narrowest ( most narrow) of margins, it qualifies during the breaks I take out here.

Like every other day, I opened the door, expected Sable to go barrelling through it and do her thing but today she took a few steps, I turned back to my desk and sat down in my office chair ( yep, that's here too) and then she started whining to come back in. The snow was taller than she can stand in and not sink and she's a pretty large Black lab. Well, she's more than large and in truth, I need to call Bob Greene and get her started on her Best Life ever diet because she needs fries with her shake and shimmy and she's only 9.

So, I let her back in the house where the mini me(s) are enjoying a hot breakfast because all of the schools are closed. I'm listening to George Michael's Twenty Five again because it was in the Mary J. Reflection's cd case which by default means Mary J is on top of the radio, a lady in waiting. It's going to be a productive day so she'll get her turn.

I woke up early to see the snow totals across the state and see if in fact that schools had closed and I could tell darling daughter to go back to bed once more. Affirmative on all accounts. Then I switched from local to CNN and caught the Anna Nicole debacle on it's last legs.

Anna will be laid to rest today next to her son in the Bahamas, as well she should have been 3 weeks ago. Just the other day my mother made me promise not to take 3 weeks to bury her when she passes. I reminded her that we'll be neighbors in the nursing home, thanks to her unbridled teenage passion and that we should go look for a two for one deal on plots at some point. Keep her laughing now...that's all I can do.

She told me she wants to be buried near me and asked if I was planning to be buried here or in Louisiana. Crazy as it sounds, when I spent all that time bedridden, I did think about this topic and I told her that I want to go home and be buried with our family. She then reminded me that the family church plots are over crowded and I said, "Well, hell, running Uncle Robert over ain't nothing new. I'm sure he doesn't mind at this point and company might do him well." By the time we go, Alex will be lakeshore property anyway so we may as well buy up now. I ain't skeered.

I told her about this newish thing I heard about where you are cremated and turned into a diamond, a thought my husband had for me that I quickly dismissed. It's a brown diamond! Where am I gonna wear that? Plus, if he can't give me a set and it's not a carat for each ear, what's the point? There is that and then there is the question of what his next wife may want because I'm not so sure that I'll be in a position to make those executive decisions for him for much longer. LOL! Besides, it feels freaky to walk around with a person on your person. That's just not normal. Neither is this entry but still.

Raving rants...

2007-03-01T08:57:00.000-08:00

Rapping Rant
Rapper 50 Cent has just released a book about hustling through his new publishing company. There are so many thing wrong with that sentence, none of which is the structure. I may not know an adverb from my ass, but I do know that 50 cent can’t even say his own damn name, let alone spell it and write about it? HUH? WHAT?

My main bone of contention is that this book will be marketing to youth. My age group will not likely be picking up a Hustling manual ( even though, I know some of y’all could use it). Mainstream America will not be buying this book. His target demographic is junior. For real and he’s teaching junior how to hustle.

That’s kind of like Dick Cheney writing a self help book about making the world love you for your glowing personality. 50 can’t hustle! He’s been shot 8 or 9 times. His hustle is BROKE!
Some may say that the fact that he even has this deal is a hustle and it may well be, but this is when my eyebrow raises and I question the “handlers”, the “advisors” because I don’t believe it’s HIS hustle. Follow the money trail.

The Presidential “Race”
The hats are all being thrown in and it’s still anyone’s game. That’s because we’re a year ahead of schedule. That also means, another year’s worth of millions to fund these campaigns. Whatever happened to campaign finance reform? I mean, it’s logical that if I have the most money, I’ll buy the biggest flag, more people will see it, recognize it and likely support it and many won’t have a clue why except for the fact that there is brand recognition. That’s branding folks. That’s Business 101. Is that what our Presidency is now? Just another business?
Well, it’s always been about the one with the most gold rising to the top, but they used to have to stand for something too…now it seems all of these folks are just in it to win it and will say whatever they need to in order to ascend to the Oval. One won’t admit she made a mistake in supporting the war. One supports the war and one is triumphing by saying he didn’t support the war all along. Senator Obama, you already had my support but careful with that because it might turn into anti-war sentiment and bite you in the ass in a year when those vets come home.

I supported Dennis Kucinich early on in the last election. When I realized that his chances were faltering because he didn’t have “The Look” that Americans wanted, I put my support behind John Edwards because I agreed with him on the issues. I could trust the future of the nation in his hands…for a few years anyway. There was a tiny bit of skepticism because he looks an awful lot like the character Damian in Omen 3 played by Sam Neil, but ya know, I figured maybe that’s just me. As far as religious conspiracies go, the Anti-Christ would have been older than Edwards and descended from a long line of royalty. Hmm, not unlike George Bush of Dubya.

But Dubya isn’t the anti-Christ. I don’t believe him to be inherently evil, just inherently stupid. Big difference. In all honesty, I raise my eyebrows and question his “handlers” and “advisors” too because I don’t believe all of this chaos is his hustle. Follow the money trail. déjà vu, isn’t it?

I caught a bit of the ‘Hot Topics” segment on the View, which I swore I wouldn’t watch after Star Jones was canned, but I still catch that first 15 minutes anyway. It’s amusing to watch. Yesterday, Rosie and Joy were discussing the current political climate and the conversation reached a fever pitch when they turned attentions to Elizabeth Hasselbeck and questioned her unwavering support of the Bush Administration. After The hunt for WMDs, after Haliburton, after Katrina, after Gitmo, after Abu Gharib, after the Patriot Act, after Enron, after Scooter gate, did I mention after KATRINA???? Rosie attributed Elizabeth’s loyalty to youth. Personally, I think she’s just a very very vanilla person ( bsdm reference notwithstanding and she wouldn't have a clue anyway) and that colors much of her world and thinking. It has nothing to do with age. It has something to do with class, ethnicity, education level, exposure to the world and a superiority complex that she isn’t likely even aware that she has. It’s White Privilege in a nutshell. It keeps people that want to be blind, blind.

It can be proven too. My theory anyway. If you were to engage a room full of people and ask them if race ( social construct) mattered, most would say it didn’t. Then go a step further and tell them that they can no longer identify as whatever race they had previously identified as. Most would lose their damn minds. They wouldn’t have a clue who they were or what they were expected to do and worse, they would feel “like everybody else” and that is something that Americans NEVER want to feel. We’re a funny group when ya think about it. People love to pretend to be “color blind” but if two days later someone asks what color they are, they are quick to say. Just the same, I’m not giving my Black back so I won’t be hypocritical about it. But there is no such thing as Black privilege. I guess, viva la difference

In other news
Expecting two feet of snow here...an inch and hour for the next day. For the kids, fun sledding with their dad. For me, lots more time to write. I know I shouldn't shop this week, but I need a new desk. I was thinking of a flat writer's table with two a-frame style sides and then a second architect's desk so that I can just switch up when I paint. Right now, there is far too much preparation and I almost lose inspiration by the time I have all of my supplies together. A snow day would be perfect timing to clear out this room next to me for my own purposes. I'm just trying to busy my hands so I don't think about my mother too much and don't write about her either. Just did though. I'm avoiding calling "Home" because I will have to tell them what's going on with her, though I could lighten the convo by telling my aunt that I ordered Chitlins online again. She gave me hell for weeks for that last time, but I swear I have never seen them cleaned so well in my life. They are what they are. I told her I would save her some time this season and order some for her too. I won't tell you the names she called me but I'm still her baby. Hell, I'm everyone's baby, still! Maybe my mom and I should go home next month after all. I haven't been since Katrina. I left on Sunday after burying Memo and Katrina came that Monday. Yeah, I need to go.

But for now, I'm off to RyeCrisp and turkey with pepperjack land and a side of cukes with Wishbone balsamic spray but I may treat myself to a Welch's grape. But, if I have a V-8 instead, I swear I'm baking a cake tonight! With all kinds of buttercream icing.

Oprah: The real constant gardener

2007-02-28T10:35:00.000-08:00

After I put the boy wonder down for a nap, I watched Oprah's Leadership Academy Special. I TIVO'd it on Monday night since I was planning a night out and about. When news of the Academy first broke on a message board that I frequent, the reviews were mixed. Many people were faulting Oprah, not for anything that she was doing, but for her comments about the lack of motivation children in this country have towards their education.

But the differences are astounding in comparison. Children here do take education for granted. In our own community, a good student is often ridiculed and alienated. Been there, been that. While in other ethnic groups, a striving student is heralded and applauded, ours are put down by our own. If that's not eating the mentality you have been spoon fed and embracing it, I don't know what is. At this point, we don't even need Oppressors because we are doing such a fine job of imitating them ourselves.

Our children use rappers as role models. They want to dress like them and live like them, but they fail to realize that without education, most of those rappers are one hit wonders that eventually fall back to the same run down streets they came from. The rappers that rise beyond that and become moguls happen to have educations behind them. They understand marketing. They understand how to manage their money. They understand the principles of business. I wonder why these moguls don't spend their time teaching children those things instead of trying to sell them $80 t-shirts? Well, I guess because they didn't take the Master's level classes and don't understand how their actions today will affect them tomorrow. Perhaps they are too busy buying up slices of the Hamptons to care about reinvesting in their own communities. They are probably too concerned having a weave fitted to care that the distribution line of that hair is now entirely an Asian chain and are too absorbed in their own image to be concerned with the fact that there are no Black owned business in Black neighborhoods anymore. Something has to change somewhere.

I don't fault Asian business owners for seeing an opportunity and taking hold of it with the hair care industry. I fault us for still buying into Eurocentric beauty ideals and demanding those products and not giving a damn who sells them as long as we get them. Just another reason why I don't wear a weave and yet my hair is still down my back and my crown and don't frequent those types of "beauty" supply stores. I don't get manicures unless I can develop a reporte with the stylist. I don't fault an Arab business owner for seeing an opportunity and taking hold of the local corner store markets. I fault us for not keeping our own stores in business, for walking further to bigger stores owned by other people and giving them our dollar, allowing that small mom and pop shop to go under. It starts with a little bit of selling out and ends up with a lost generation.

We have lost something. Our parents were raised by our grandparents who knew what it was like to struggle. They knew what it was all about. They fought so fiercely to have the very things they had and our parents appreciated it. At some point, our parents flipped the switch. The message they gave us was "I sacrificed so you don't have to," and we just kick back and enjoy the fruit of their labor, getting fat, watching MTV, remote in hand and waiting for our dinner to be delivered. I'm guilty as charged, but I recognize it and it disgusts me, so I try to change it. A little bit at a time...where I can.

Oprah is doing the world a great favor by empowering these young girls. She is planting the seeds for a brighter and stronger Africa for generations to come. Do we have that here? Who is doing that here? Maybe we all should be.

I say a little prayer for you...

2007-02-28T07:13:00.000-08:00

An hour ago, my mother called me to tell me that her paperwork was in order and that she wanted me to know that for the first time in her life, a doctor called her at home. She had been having some pain in her leg and side and went to urgent care and the on duty physician stayed on her case and even consulted with another doctor that called her today. They found a 9mm tumor in her femur. I gave her the reply she called for. I told her that I loved her and not to worry. I made her laugh. I teased her and reminded her that her daddy had a peg leg, which is kinda funny since that’s one of those caps my uncles and aunts used to use on me IN FRONT of my grandfather when we would play spades and talk smack over the board. I told her not to worry. I offered to go to the follow up appointments with her. Then I told her not to worry again. Typical of her, she said, 'Oh I wasn't worried, but just letting you know, you might be next." To which I replied "See, I hope you get termites, Peg." My mom and I, we're just like that. It's the 15 year age gap. When my 3 year old asked her once who her mother was, she told him it was me. She wasn't lying.

What’s more, I added her to the growing list of people that it hitting Jamaica this Spring. She questioned whether Jamiaca was the right spot because she wasn’t sure how clean it was, then she informed me that she had just bought some jerk sauce and asked me how to use it. I reminded her that she is the one that taught me how to cook, which means neither of us have a clue how to use that sauce or any other. It was then that she decided to invite my aunt BayBay to join us for the trip. BayBay owns a restaurant in CenLa so at least she learned how to cook as well as Mama ( my maternal grandmother) does. Then I ended the call and gave my mother a parting chuckle by telling her that “What happens in Jamaica, stays in Jamaica”. She roared with laughter at that.

Now, that leaves me to my thoughts, my feelings and my writing. I can only do one right now. The end.

Daddy's Little Girls

2007-02-27T14:24:00.000-08:00

Deb and I hit the 9:10 viewing of Tyler Perry’s “Daddy’s Little Girls” on Monday evening. I saw the Departed last weekend and watched an Inconvenient Truth and the Children of Beslan about the Terrorist seige at a Russian school in 2004 and really, I needed something a bit lighter. Global warming, Irish Mafia/Police corruption and Terrorists with religious extremism are not light and fluffy and don’t evoke giggles and loose chatter. Tyler Perry productions will give you a message overall, but all the while you are taking that in you’re going to connect to the characters and likely recognize yourself and others in them and you’re going to laugh.

Going into the theater with that in mind, the film didn’t disappoint. The movie’s premise is very boy meet girl, but the message is that there are good Black men around with values and decency and intelligence that are dedicated to their children, their families. It was so so so nice to see that on the big screen. We have gaps growing in our community in education and earnings potential and if we allow them to, they can separate and alienate us from each other. The war on drugs didn’t really happen. The war on terror was a sham. The war on Black men is alive and well. Do you know how many new prisons have been built in Southern California in the past decade? This country is sending a message loud and clear to our sons ( and to our daughters…just ask the ones widely accepted) and we don’t have the luxury to ignore it any longer.

In a day and age where my 3 year old has only men of his grandfather’s generation to look up to for his examples of Black men because Hollywood plays and preys on this street mentality, slave mentality, slovenly, sadistic and that’s just the 18 to 24 group. I won’t even get into the set up that the music industry is doing on young girls…essentially deeming our next generation of Queens capable of nothing but shaking what they have enhanced for the benefit of their male counterparts who prefer them to be light, bright and damn near white, and near a bed. I work tirelessly to assure my daughter that regardless of the ethnicity of her father and his Mayflower pedigree, she is her cousin Ny’Asha. Not that they are the same. They are EACH OTHER. When a Black woman is targeted or excels, they are each other. It matters not the texture of their hair or melanin in their skin, they are each other.

I am grateful to Tyler for this film because it was timely and I found a connection to all of the characters. The lead female character, Julia, portrayed by Gabrielle Union, is a high powered attorney in bustling Atlanta, single and then some and searching. Her well intentioned friends set her up on blind dates that provide some of the funniest parts of the movie. Debbie and I fell out when, on the phone with Tracey Ellis Ross’ character, Julia exasperated by her dates announces that she will scream if she sees another brother in a throw back jersey and then DOES! A few men in the theater had to cover up at that point. That was a high five and “aww hell naw” moment because, pointing to my forehead, I’m so there. I mean, if you didn’t play for the Minnesota Vikings in 1998, take off that Randy Moss jersey! Oooh, flashback to 1998 Minnesota Vikings playing the Altanta falcons in the NFC championship and that crushing, heartbreaking knee that Randall Cunningham took and Gary's missed field goal. *hangs head, raises my Helga braids and Vikes horn in a fist for sad pathetic unity* If I could have beat Denny Green’s ass myself I would have. Manage the clock, man! They did the Dirty Bird IN MY HOUSE! But I digress. See, it’s still painful. That was our year though. Ugh. My Cris Carter jersey has sat in cold storage since that day and I’m not bringing it out until we retire his number in the Dome. How did I get to football?

Anyway, there were a few points in the movie where the script needed to be tightened. A few times where I was screaming inside, “show, don’t tell” and I would have loved to see the Maya character be some of the stitching in tightening that script up. Why was Maya single? If she was single, wouldn’t Monty have been right up her alley? Questions, ya know. It would have made sense that she be the one to tell Julia about the court hearing rather than Julia walking by as happenstance. We saw Monty’s character and background fully developed…did Julia’s end up on the cutting room floor? Her depth wasn’t there. I related to her on a surface level because as women, as Black women, we share so many common threads that don’t need translation but no need to dumb it down for us either. It’s ok to explain that Black women are sometimes vulnerable and debunk the myth that we are angry, loud and able to handle anything that comes our way. We can break too and it was clear that Julia had, but what was not was that her father and a past love had done that to her to create the woman she now was. It was spoken, but never really explained.

I did have a funny awakening in the theater though. As much as we think we change…lol. Just as the lead characters were arriving at a jazz club, I surveyed the scene and turned to Deb and said, “Um, doesn’t look safe to me. Make my order to go,” so I found it insanely funny that Julia had the very same thoughts. I’m not sure what that says about that character and I don’t even want to know what it says about me. But another scene did tell me something about myself. Julia’s closest friends are very much like her, pristine and reared to perfection. In one scene, one of her friends questions Julia’s sanity in choosing to be with a working class man; correction, a working class man WITH children from the hood IN the hood. She’s a lawyer after all and a pairing of that nature is stretching the bounds of class, which is just behind religion and race in terms of challenges that couples face. I lost about 2 minutes of the movie because I really had to think seriously about things in my own life and things I have felt, thought and said. As my sister nears graduation day in May from law school, I have tried my best to not say those words to her, but I know she has sensed my concern for her. I struggle to hide my feelings. Oh, let me quit. I don’t struggle at all. I just don’t bother trying to hide it.
My sister’s boyfriend is from the shanty town here, not even the ghetto. He grew up rough. He grew up poor. He moved in to my parents home( correction: my step mother’s home now) when my sister was 16 (mind you, after my father moved out, of course) and I blew a gasket. I mean, when my dad ran out on those kids, I bought this house 3 blocks from them to help raise them in his absence. I stopped with the minimum wage jobs, went back to school and got my shit together with a quickness. I got married! I went corporate and was promoted 5 times in 4 years with the second largest discount retailer in this country. It’s no small feat when you consider that I still dropped out of college again. LOL! Sometimes, I am Mama and Daddy to them and since I’m 18 years older than the youngest, they rebel just the same too.

Back then, I offered to get my sister’s boyfriend an apartment because I thought that allowing two 16 year olds to live together wasn’t such a bright idea especially since my parents had ME at that age. I called places to get him back in school, I called in favors, I offered a lot. He refused it all. Instead, he worked. He got his G.E.D and worked. At 22, he has supported my sister emotionally and financially through her Bachelors degree and now her Juris at break neck speed compared to her peers. She shaved 2 years off the average timing to become a lawyer…and she did that because she had him supporting her and the ambition and motivation to do that. How can I fault him? For what can I fault him? She’s a student so she’s broke as hell so he’s not around for the money. He has stuck by her longer than some marriages last and they love each other so who am I to judge them? I really wanted to slap Brenda in the movie for being such a hater and I had to seriously look at myself and think about the role I had played in my own sister’s life. Message received. Lesson learned.

I wonder if it’s tacky to give my sister a trip to the Bahamas for her graduation and then go with her. LOL! Well, she’s still my baby sister! I’m not going to let her go alone. Aww damn…ok, this would be a moment where I’m supposed to look over what I just read, the lesson I claim I just got and let her boyfriend have a second ticket because he has earned it through being there for her and enabling her to finish her education. DAYUM! I was all set to wear a bikini ( with a wrap, don’t play) and wind and grind on the beach, getting drunk and waking up with jerk chicken breath. Guess this Stella will have to get her groove back another time. DAYUM for real! It’s a good thing. Let me just keep saying that and I won’t want that ticket. LOL! It’s a good thing and he deserves it. See…but my little cousin is graduating from law school in May too. We’re the only 3 girls, I mean mind you, I’m the official old as hell chaperone. Oooh, that did it. I am too old to be traveling with 22 and 21 year olds and I would have lost my mind if someone my age would have done this to my while me and my girls were in our Wild daze. In fact, I’m almost positive we woke up early and left my Aunt Pete in Louisiana right before we went to Hollywood in 1990. LOL! Issue settled.

Oh, but the bathroom scene in DLG... Someone please tell men that women do not hide their “toys” in the bathroom medicine cabinet. Not that I know or anything about that, but I've heard.*whistles and looks off into space* HA! But, that’s reserved for a nightstand or for some, a case packed with an arsenal. You just don't know! Debbie and I looked at each other and just cracked up. The whole theater of women did. Says something about where some of our money is going. Speeds 1,2 and who needs a man. Of course, that scene was transitional though and it was funny as all get out so it worked.

I’m not sure if it’s Lauryn or China, but the youngest of the daughters had the best lines in the script in DLG and she is going to have a very bright future. The IT factor all over that little girl. I’m sure all 3 of the girls will be able to chart their own course. And Tasha Smith, wow, she played hoochie to no end. I was so ready to knock her on her ass by the end of the film. She represented so much that is wrong with our community and it was tough to keep watching her, let alone Gary Sturgis and not wishing them immediate bodily harm.

I really do hope and pray that something in those last two characters resonates within people and makes them as ill as it made me, so much so that people do really rally as the community did in the film. I mean, we have “Stop Snitching” shirts on sale all over the US. Stop snitching? For real? For what? Who benefits when someone doesn’t snitch? If people were living on the up and up, they wouldn’t need to worry who was snitching in the first place. “Stop tripping” shirts are a better option. Stop tripping on the strip clubs. Stop tripping on trying to “make it rain”. Hell, just make it sprinkle with a J.O.B. and that’s good enough. Light showers never hurt nobody.

It was interesting that there was some realism in the film at a pivotal moment when two characters go head to head where people just stand there and watch. Complacent, not wanting to get involved, no one wants to make that first move. Sadly, that’s reality. Too many people allow fear to dictate their convictions. They hesitate. They second guess and that’s all the time it takes to change the course of life and death.

Overall, I really did enjoy the movie and the night out. It was good to laugh like that. It was even better to see Black people on a screen wearing clothes and not rapping or trying to sell me their name to wear on my back. It was nice to see a happy ending and know that those are possible when we think outside of societal means and limitations and think for ourselves allowing our hearts and minds to dictate our path. There are good and decent Black men out there. They may not earn 6 figures and they may be pushing a broom or a bus or even a pencil, but money isn’t everything and to be honest, it really isn’t much. A house is not a home.
I walked out of the theater feeling positive and even a little hopeful. So now that we know that good Black men are out there and that the concept can make it to the big screen, it’s time to do the same for good Black women. My fingers are itchy..must be time to write.

It's going to be a write kinda day.

2007-02-27T06:16:00.000-08:00

I awoke this morning to a phone call at 7:20 from MissLin. Now, she knows that even before my daughter started school, I don't usually crawl from bed until 8:30. A call before the time people expect me up triggers panic in me. It makes me think that someone died, though I have always told people that know me don't call me late at night or early in the morning especially if someone died. They'll still be gone when I get up. Ya know?

Well, Lin was like, "Turn on the Today show" and I asked what time it was. Truth be told, I was awake but not UP. I have kids. I have to be awake at that hour but I don't have to function well yet. I write late at night. I don't punch in 9 to 5 and I don't sleep from 10pm to 6am, so I wasn't quite all there, but she told me that they were doing a show on something called "The Secret". Good news travels fast, I guess. I thought about it for a second and then I was like, "Girl, you are in Vermont...I'm on CENTRAL TIME. I get the taped edition of the Today show." The segment that aired would have to catch me in an hour, but in the mean time, I spoke for a bit about 'The Secret' with Lin and explained that I was already aware of it and had blogged and written about it but I thanked her for thinking of me first thing in the morning when she saw it. As there are no coincidences, it served as a bright reminder on how I should start my day and that was working towards honoring my essence. That, I can do.

The reason Lin found the segment interesting could also be called a coincidence, if they existed, but in reality, she believed the author of 'The Secret' (Note: Rhonda Byrnes is the author) to be a lifecoach, Rhonda Britton along with Iyanla Vanzant, that produced a reality tv show about the lives of women, sent to live in a house together to work on their goals and become the people they have always wanted to be. She and I met on a message board for that show 3 plus years ago when we were both addicted to the show and probably seeking the same end goal as many of the women on the show. It's interesting how things have worked out. She was single as single could be back then, just ending an early career in politics and still trying to find her way in the world and I was "happily married", defined by the ills of my health and trying desperately to figure out where I stepped off my path to the world. None of those things are our truths anymore...and we're both the better for it. She has a beautiful 2 year old and moved across country with her parents where they all work as teachers now and well, suffice to say, I'm none of the things I once was. It bears no need for explanation. But the ring of that phone was certainly a signal to reflect and mark some progress so that is what I will do today.

Ah, just now I caught that segment on 'The Secret' on the Today show. Dr. Gail Saltz goes head to head with James Arthur Ray to discuss the topic and they feature the Newsweek article that I wrote about earlier this week. What I find troubling is that the detractors are really buying into this theory that people are dumb...and that somehow they are helping us weed out the big bad monster of positive thought through the law of attraction. They cite the example of the woman from The Secret dvd that was diagnosed with cancer and lived her way through it until it was gone.

Well, she isn't an anamoly. People have survived cancer. Most don't do that by laying in bed, not getting treatment and resigning themselves to the thought that they are going to die. What's so difficult to grasp about that? Where is the harm in wanting to be better and then BEING better? I've said this before, but ask anyone that has achieved their goals if they believed they could do it and 9.9999 times out of 10, they will tell you that they most certainly did. Otherwise, what would have been the point?

That's not to say there is no work involved. The brain is an organ that we don't truly understand. We only use a fraction of it on a regular basis and no one really knows what the rest is for. There is much unknown about the human body, let alone spirit, so who is anyone to say what is and is not? The proof that it works is in the pudding. Ask people that even before this book were guided by these principals. Before I read the book, I was already coming out of a slump, but prior to that, I always charted my own course and it flowed on track for much of my life. The bumps were things I helped to create and I bought into. That's common sense. There is no way to explain the vast miracles in our lives if we don't leave room for something beyond just ourselves working in concert with ourselves.

People that want to discount the theory will use a play on someone wanting a parking spot and envisioning themselves getting on, or someone wanting a high performance sports car and getting it to say it's all brain goo. Well, would they have gotten that car or spot if they DIDN'T want it? It's not rocket science.

I should post the writings I did as I watched "The Secret" for the first time because although I was well on my way out of the doldrums, I lept out after "The Secret". I heard messages from God fully deciphered for the first time in years and I was ready for them. For the first time in my life, I was able to move through my day without hearing taunts from my father, from rapists, from the unworthy and unwelcome and abusers. That's no joke. I had been waking up with this pretense that I needed to battle those and slay dragons and I found my body not strong enough for the challenge and it literally broke me.

Fibromyalgia is short code for everything hurts and that's no coincidence either. I hurt for 5 years and I gave into that. I ate so many pills that I pee Merck stock. But it didn't take me. It allowed me to see that I was more than just muscles that ached, bones that hurt. I could have laid down and died at any point after I was 5 years old but I didn't. I kept moving and I kept growing and I kept getting better and better. I wasn't weak. I wasn't battered. I was frightened by my own strength. Baby, it took a lot to try to hold me down and that made me fierce. It made me ME. So while I'm not going to have a dinner party with dear old dud and two rapists anytime soon, I know that the experiences that I had gave me something I would not have otherwise had. Will. Perserverence. The sheer magnitude of my strength. If I chose to, I could change the world with what I have harnessed from those experiences and inspire generations.Well, I am choosing to.

Hanging with Deb

2007-02-26T23:45:00.000-08:00

Well it was a date night of sorts. Dinner and a movie with one of my closest and longest, most dear friends, Debbie. She had an Entrepreneur group meeting at church that I opted out of and after that we were off to dinner but I just didn’t have much of an appetite since I had a tiny bite with my kids before Deb arrived at 7:30. Luckily, she wasn’t much for eating either so we just hit the mall until then 9:10 showing of Tyler Perry’s “Daddy’s Little Girls”.
We walked around Brookdale and made our way through various shoe stores and finally ended at Lady FootLocker where I picked up a red and white sweatsuit ( jacket, shit, pants) and new Nike kicks to go along with it. Debbie couldn’t find anything that worked for her in her size. Being 37 and 3 feet tall kinda limit’s the options, but she has never let O.I. limit her style. She’s still rocking her animal print.

The two of us haven’t had much opportunity to hang over the last year since I’ve been recovering from this crazy Benign Intercranial thing. Benign my ass. A headache everyday for over a year is anything but benign. I gave into it for a year and that’s all the time I was willing to give it. I have had enough cat scans and MRIs to allow scientists to fully document my thoughts if they dedicated enough time to interpreting the scans. I had enough of the bed. I had enough of being sick and I was tired as hell of being tired as hell so I just quit being sick and decided that with or without it, I have to keep on living and keep on keeping on…and that’s just what tonight was about.

I knew hanging with Debbie would be falling right in step as if I never veered from the path of our friendship and allowed myself that time of seclusion and being the dutiful friend, she played her role to the hilt. We laughed from the minute I got into the van until she dropped me back off at home when she warned me to be careful on the ice and reminded me of days long gone by when I fell out of the van at Paisley Park. Thankfully, I hadn’t consumed the amount of cocktails that was required back then to pull a Chevy Chase out the passenger door, but the laughter from the memory was enough to make me hold on to her car until I got to the sidewalk, fearful of falling down just the same. It was all as if time had never passed. We started reminiscing about old friends and talking about one in particular and in the simpatico we found that first night in 1991 outside of Glam Slam, we found we still spoke the same language when we both said at the same time with the same intonations in response to that old friend, “Bitch, shut the fuck up”. Words neither of us use on a regular basis anymore, but if ever there was a girlfriend that deserved to hear that phrase over and over again, this one was surely her.

Angela ( name changed to protect the guilty as sin) is from South America. She has seen the horrors of war and witnessed and been victim to the abuses of foster care in this country. We met in 1990 when she was doing nails at Regis next door to the record store I worked at. The two of us had a deal; I let her use my discount and she did my nails when she didn’t have a customer, no charge. Thinking back, she should have paid me to wear those things….acrylic nails out to there in Vivid Red. What WAS I thinking? Well, probably that it matched my Revlon Cherries in the snow lipstick pretty well. It would take me two days to be able to use the cash register again each time I had a fill.

Eventually, Angela and I had a falling out. She wanted a bigger discount that really was akin to theft and I wasn’t willing to lose my $4.55 an hour job over some nails, especially since she rented space in her store to do nails and paid for her own supplies so her freebie to me was really a freebie to me. It wasn’t corporate theft. Well, I think her short stature and the fact that she had fought so many people for so little in life made her think she needed to come at me like a bulldozer and she approached me in the club with all the fervor of a red hot on virgin taste buds. Oh, no, boo. I’m not the one. I can be hot tempered but I’m known for my mouth, not my fists, but some people just know the right button to push. If not for Debbie and that wheelchair, I would have thrown Angela’s ass over the balcony at Glam Slam. Thing is, it’s been 15 years. It wasn’t a big deal back then so one would think she could let it go but my life moved on and hers didn’t and we both remained Debbie’s closest friends. That is just ripe for conflict. The resolution has always been keep that woman out of my sights and it has worked for both of us until now.

See, I don’t have anything against her. If anything, I would like to see her better her station in life because I have never met a more bitter soul and it’s heartbreaking to hear about her because she holds the ghosts of her pasts closer than the fruits of her future and that’s a breeding ground for toxicity. For people lost in that, I used to bring myself down to another level thinking I could help to lift them up, but they have to want to come. For her, I may extend my hand…but I won’t leave it outstretched for too long. My train is moving and it’s slow enough for others to climb on board. I’m good with that. I want it like that. I thrive on that…but I’m not stopping and I’m not getting off. There it is. So for those moments where she wants the train to stop or wants to go one further and start pulling me and mine off, “Bitch, shut the fuck up”. It’s that simple. Aw Ready!

Onward and upward, kids.

So here’s the kicker, when Debbie and I get together, it’s like some weird backwards cultural exchange program. Debbie is White. She runs a million dollar business today that she founded and runs on her own. She is supposed to be disabled and has been in a wheelchair for most of her life because she has brittle bone disease, known as Osteo Genus Imperfecta or O.I. She breaks bones in her sleep. She grew up in the hood and it grew in her. Well, I grew up on the other side of the tracks. My parents were Grambling grads with honors. They were Who’s Who. They were recruited and they bore me with high expectations and paid for many a school to ensure their R.O.I. ( return on investment). Debbie grew up listening to hip hop and clapping on the 2 and 4. I grew up straight Duran Duran and clapping on the 1 and 3, KNOWING I was supposed to clap on the 2 and 4. A conundrum.

We met outside a club when I was 19, sporting on helluva fake I.D. It was my brilliant idea to take my “cousins” birth certificate down to the driver’s license center and apply for an ID with my picture and her info and it worked beautifully, so for awhile, I was Kim at the club entrance. LOL! After leaving the club, I came across two girls that looked kinda familiar in wheelchairs looking like they were having a duel, spinning in circles. It looked like an interesting enough scene so I stopped for a second and Debbie looked up and said, “Hey, don’t we go to college together” and I had to think about it because I was enrolled and I did show up at a few classes I enjoyed from time to time, but I wasn’t sure that qualified as going to college. I was squatting in psychology and sociology classes basically and even then, I didn’t have a goal. I was just biding time until something new came along. Ah, the ignorance of youth.
Debbie and her friend/roommate Rhonda had just come from a night out as well and we all started chatting and laughing and the laughter just didn’t stop. We exchanged numbers and though I’m sure it was after 2am, Debbie and I ended up on the phone all night when she had to ask “WHAT kind of Black girl ARE you” and I responded by asking what kind of white girl she was. As far as stereotypes go, she and I were ass backwards and a perfect pair.

It’s interesting because tonight, after the movie, she confided in me that she recently wondered if she were less of herself, if things would have been different for her and if more White men would have found her appealing. Of course I laughed it off with her and told her that she is who she is and who she is supposed to be and who gives a good damn who finds her appealing and what their ethnicity is. But, I have to confess to wondering the same thing about Black men. So many of the things that were second nature to me just didn’t sit well with most men that I dated. Whether it was my education, my diction, my ambitions, reading for enjoyment, listening to all kinds of music, whatever , all kinds of surface bs…stereotypical bs that I expected of all people, MY people to be above…it just made men question my Blackness, much in the same way that Debbie was wondering about the question of her Whiteness.

WHEN will we move beyond this garbage? My music tastes will not change my physical appearance. Many a Black woman can’t dance worth a damn. I’m not the only one that can’t cook and can’t dance…but the things that I can do, those are good enough to marvel at and appreciate. Since when did all the things that make me ME become flaws within the Black community anyway? I can turn a decent sentence so I’m trying to be something I’m not??? I don’t wear other people names on my ass because they aren’t paying me to promote them, so I’m not down? I never got down on a first date ( and if I did, I'm sure as hell not putting it out there) and I was fine paying my way for dinner and cab, thank you very much. So that makes me unappealing? I’m a friggen PEACH! Giggles.

I’m a Queen and don’t think I don’t know it. Of any ethnicity, I would be one helluva woman but I’m a Black woman and baby, for me that‘s the tops. I was born one helluva woman. I’m timeless and my beauty and my nature unparallel in this universe and that’s not bragging, that’s fact. If I had one leg and an ashy one at that and 3 teeth, I would still be all that. Ok wait…I would have sense enough to buy lotion so I wouldn’t have ashy legs no how. Pass the cocoa butter. But for real, at any size, I’m still all that and lord knows I have been many a size.
We put too much emphasis on things that don’t matter. They just don’t matter. People that have health problems get this because that will level you with a quickness. Dying doesn’t discriminate. Cancer doesn’t discriminate. Chronic pain does not discriminate. When I got Fibromyalgia, I had to realize that I was more than musculoskeletal. When I got Pseudo Cerebri Tumor ( Benign Intracranial Hypertension) , I had to realize that I was more than pain in my brain. There is more to me than just matter. All that you see is NOT all me. The good news is that my body has realized that I’m more than just those conditions too and slowly but surely, they are fading into the woodwork. Background noise. Fade to black. I don’t allow them to stop me. I don’t allow them to define me and there isn’t a thing that I cannot do because of them.

Nay-Sayers

2007-02-26T11:35:00.001-08:00

I realize I appear chatty lately, but it's mainly because instead of using all 7 blogs, I'm not using one. I'm going to convert them all over to the domain I've been using for a few years soon, but trust I had my reason for keeping them seperate and maintaining some anononmity.
Each blog is a different aspect of what I do and speaks to a different piece but it's just time to merge them all. No secrets...well, there is but one. It's not just my secret, but a bit of marketing and positive thought genius on behalf of Rhonda Byrne, author of The Secret.

The Secret is a DVD or book that is being handed from friend to friend, hailed as success of the minds on talk show after talk show and really it's its own revolution. The real secret is that the secret behind 'The Secret' not really a secret. If you have ever been happy for even a fleeting moment, you know the answer to 'The Secret'. If your dreams have ever come true or if you cling to the belief that they will, you are in full posession of 'The Secret. End of story. It's that simple.

There is however another side to everything though, isn't there? For every believer, there must be one that doesn't believe. This is how we form thought. We balance what works for us and what registers with what doesn't and somewhere in the middle, we find our position. It's why I love debating so much. It's my thing. One of them anyway.

So of course, I knew it was a matter of time, moments really before people jumped on a bandwagon going in the opposite direction of 'The Secret' to disspell it for folly. Balance, you see. Even they are part of it and just don't realize it...but before I digress, I read an article in Newsweek that basically called 'The Secret' a joke. It downplay positive thought and used a familiar dagger to burst the bubble, asking, "But what of those in Darfur or those starving? How is it that they are in their circumstance and why hasn't positive thinking lured them out of it?" Well, I will admit, I've been practicing the principals in 'The Secret' my entire life and didn't need a guide book for it, but when I saw the segment on Oprah, I asked the same question and the answer was relatively easy to come by but required some knowledge of the history of the world and the sociology of people. When you tell someone for so long that they are nothing, eventually, they will believe you.

They can look around their world and see that they are the have nots and then they could question their station in life. They could believe that they are worthless and then they would become that. Haven't we seen enough examples of this? Don't we know entire people's that this is true for? That's an affirmative.

Conflict breeds conflict. Negative anything can only create more negatives. It's only when something positive is injected that we can change the formula and for some 'The Secret' will be enough to do that, so who is anyone to balk at it? Even for the writer that wrote the article, some positive thought, some ambition was neccessary to acquire a position with Newsweek to write that article. Something brought him to the forefront of his class, even if in his mind at some point and told him that writing was his gift. Something led him down that path and if he is too lost to realize that he is that something, well, he's in the wrong business because as one of us, he is a dreamer. We are the visionaries. We see it in our minds and we create it. This is what we do as writers. We are the embodiment of 'The Secret'. How did he miss that? I fear that someone told him that he didn't measure up and he believed that. The power of thinking and believing did him in and he bought it, hook line and sinker. That's unfortunate. Perhaps I should offer a bit of balance to that mind set. Perhaps, the experiences that I know to be a result of believing in what I know I am capable of and a step further, envisioning my future would be helpful to balance that. Well, hell, that's a whole book in and of itself. Check the lightbulb moment. And like that, flashes! You gotta love the mind.

On a completely unrelated subject, I cannot fault videos for affecting my daughter's mentality today. No, today she made it crystal clear that it was all me providing her template for womanhood. It was another moment that I had to check myself. Kids will give you a million of those a day if you are open to it and don't go crazy from it.

It started innocently enough. She arrived home from the nice, quiet Catholic school that I do not take part in but encourage her to do so in and we talked about her day, then mine, then it was snack time. The usual stuff. Well, I was in the midst of picking up the laptop and about to channel hop for background noise and she followed me downstairs, so I was mindful of the channels I landed on. There are things I will watch and/or listen to that aren't meant for her ears and to be honest, that I would hope she would never have interest in listening to or watching.

There is a group called Pretty Ricky out now that is being marketing to young girls and I'm gathering this is a spin on all the young male groups we've always had decade to decade that add a twist to the mindset of young girls that shapes them for the pole. It used to be sweet. New Edition was sweet in my day. I don't recall too much of the sexual overtone, but hey, I was 16 before my friends took me to Chuck E. Cheese to explain the dynamics of oral sex after they tired of my innocent ignorance. What's funny is that looking back, they didn't have a damn clue either so what they were teaching me, I'm glad I didn't take for gospel. I was at least smart enough to wait and read a few books...but hey, WHOLE other topic. Thing is, Pretty Ricky is OVERTLY sexual.

They have a song called "On the hotline". Again, I hate to sound like a broken record but back in Weeziana, one of my aunts neighborhood friends rounded all of us kids on the block up( It takes a village) and made us sign up for the talent show. She gave us two songs, "And the beat goes on" by the Whispers and "Hotline" by the Sylvers. We danced to The Whispers. Now, all of these songs may have very well been about sex. Most songs are at some point, but there is an art to not being crass. We don't have to put it ALL out there. Shouldn't there be some mystique? I mean, we all know basic anatomy, but damn, this is lyrical porno these days...and I'm no prude.

Pretty Ricky Lyrics:
on the hotline its not enough but I had to call ya cuz im home alone lustin for ya
im in my room nuthin but a towel on take them granny panties off out a thong on
I luv it when I hear ya moan ya got a sexy tone that turns ya boy on u in a complete nother city on the fan line with nothin but a baby tee on? u the kind of girl thats sexy in the boxer shorts im the kind of player to make u ride it like a porche yeah I met u on myspace now im about to fly u out to my place in the morning

Um, that's not cute! That's NOT pretty and someone needs to whoop Ricky and his buddies arses. Not only that but my daughter bet not EVAH find herself on myspace or skype talking panties with anyone. EVAH! Because someone's going to jail that night and I ain't skeered. Aww ready!

Ride it like a porche? Can these boys even drive legally yet? And they aren't adults yet, so IT certainly hasn't reached the point of maturity. They song lyrics are "Let's talk about sex baby", well, have they talked about babies? What do they know about sex? Because what ya do at 17 ain't sex. It's just getting some and it's "some" because you aren't getting the full meal deal yet. It's half hearted and half assed. I am so happy to be 36...those books weren't lying about when you peak. But I digress. They may have some funds these days to afford to fly a girl ( because frankly, they are too young to be dating women) out to their homes, but someone is going to jail for real. That's statutory rape no matter how you slice it and underage and flying??? KIDNAPPING! Who is teaching these fools? Where are their parents? What I find appalling is that mama and daddy aren't stepping in to say, "No son, you won't sing that and it's ok if they replace you in this group because you can do better." I would imagine that these parents prefer to cash in on this generation of their children than to give a damn what happens to subsequent generations of their children AND mine.

I mean, I have a Kitchen aid mixer but that doesn't make me Emeril...I don't have to use it everyday just because I have it. Just the same, I start watching Raven with my 6 year old. It's Disney. It's all good and Raven is the $400 million woman, and she isn't puking for fame so I don't mind my child seeing her on tv. Just then, there is a commercial and young dancers come on and my daughter says she wants to learn to dance like that, to which I reply that she can dance whenever she gets the urge just get up and do it, but I remind her that it was her choice to discontinue dance classes that she has been taking since she was 2. Thus, the structured dance is out until she wants to return to class. She thinks about it for a minute and then she says, "No, you can teach me. You can do the booty shake." Oh HELL NO! Um, no more dancing in the kitchen while I make dinner. At least I was mindful enough to remove my 3 year old son from the room while I did my belly dancing dvds. LOL! But he still thinks the instructor is popcorn worthy and would sit there like it's a Spiderman marathon if I let him. BOYS! Now I have to check myself and what I've been taking in. That's what I get for "bringing sexy back". See, that's the thing with kids, they are always watching and always learning so we have to watch what we put out there because our children are our real FUBU, no joke. For us by us. Aw Ready!

Seeking Balance...at the Oscars?

2007-02-26T05:41:00.000-08:00

Um, Ok. But the show did feel balanced to me. Nothing was jaw dropping shocking. Nothing was offensive. It can be done. WHO KNEW? Well, I had high hopes.

I was glad that Ellen was hosting it. Sometimes you can't stop the flow of the positive and she has that written all over here. Contrast with Rosie O'Donnel...and NO, not because they are both lesbians, but because they are both solo ( one former, now doing panel) talk show hosts that started as comedianes and ventured into acting and had to come out at what seemed initially like the height of their fame. For both, it ended up working out better and giving them both a springboard to really soar. Problem is, only one is doing that.

Now, I apologize for the gay woman to gay woman comparisons. I hate it when people do that to Black people...which is why I was clear that it wasn't because they were gay, but neither of them are Oprah so ya know, the comparisons end there. They happen to rank right next to each other in social stratusphere and they ain't Oprah, though I admit to have enjoying Rosie's magazine better than O. Rosie's was more middle of the road, middle class, multi-ethnic. Oprah's was and still is engineering something more which is fine. I'm just not under any illusions about how people make money and advertising. Ok...an example: Oprah has a list of her favorite things in every issue. I'm not sure if the lounge wear that was recently on her show appears in this month's issue or not, but likely it does. Oprah thinks its comfy and revolutionary and I'm sure it is. It's pima cotton and some lycra to hold ya in. What woman wouldn't love that? Well....one that doesn't want to spend more than $100 to lounge.

$100 isn't much money. I'm really not the one to diss someone about $100 because I can drop that in the airport bookstore and usually do. My issue is that here we have a woman that is literally saving the world. I'll defend Oprah until the cows come home and again when the bitties leave because I know my progression as a person has been enhanced simply because she exists. She's a gift in my life. Trust that I know that. BUT, and I sure hate to put a but in any sentence because I know it nearly dismisses everything you just said...not my point, BUT so you have an audience...you promote literacy....market that magazine to the AVERAGE woman. She's not paying $200 for a bath sheet. She is putting her kids through school and most mothers will do for everyone else before themselves anyway so if you are going to urge them to do for themselves, to treat themselves, you can't take from the family's bottom line. It's not logical and people need to quit lying to Oprah: read Gayle as she runs the magazine and telling them that it's selling at it's best and reaching the right demographic.

How many Latino women read O? I mean, READ! And buy the things in it? How many average, everyday African American women read O? The truth is that dentists offices and White women of another income bracket are the top target in that magazine. How do I know? The ads still don't feature many women that look like me. Though I can afford things that are O's favorite things and I happen to love to shop, there has to be a balance. I have enough "stuff". I don't need it just because someone that I admire says it's her favorite thing. Perhaps she would benefit from learning about some of mine.

And what, praytell, are my favorite things?

Well, I do happen to love the song "My favorite things" from the Sound of Music. I'm not embarrassed by that. I think it was 3rd grade summer play that I performed that one. Had to be because I was back in Louisiana for 4th grade and 5th grade was in Minnesota in all district chorus.Digressing...the list:

My favorite things:

1) My Mini-Mes. The most intelligent, compassionate and beautiful 3 and 6 year olds I know.
2) Driving down Mama's street and seeing her sitting on the porch when I go back home.(Note: My grandmother, Mama, is somewhere west of central sometimes. She has a tree garden. Yes, a tree garden. She takes things and recycles them ( my phrasing) and plants things in them and hangs them on a tree in her yard so she can look at them while she sits on the porch. She makes bird feeders out of 2 liter containers, which is normal enough...but Chitlin buckets? Um yeah. Mama uses Chitlin buckets to make planters. Nothing like coming down to street in a cab and saying, "It's the house with the red chitlin buckets in the tree". Oooh I love my family. LMAO! But hey, this is the woman that raised me. If she wants to make planters out of chitlin buckets, go'head on Mama. It's your world.
3)Laughing with my girls..my crew. All over the world...whether it's online, on the phone, over dinner, I love that we hit our essence the minute we hear the sound of each other's voice and stay in step until we part.
4) Fresh sheets. Be it sheets of paper (because I happen to love new notebooks...LOVE!) or freshly laundered lavendar scented bed linens, 800 thread count or higher, I love sheets. It doesn't HAVE to be Egyptian cotton because most of that doesn't even come from Egypt ( giggles)...it could be sheets from ANY nation but keep that thread count up and I'm a happy camper sliding around.
5) A cd that I can listen to front to back and again that satisfies my soul. It can even be a compilation of old and new and I like that even more. I remember spending ages trying to find a version of Shirley Ceasar singing "I won't be back" because it reminded me of one period in life that was rough for my mother as she went through her first divorce from my father. She and I would sing gospel in the car and I loved those rides. Had nothing to do with destination, as much of the good in life doesn't. It was all about the journey. We would take turns leading and doing back up on "Jacob's Ladder"--don't really recall the name of the song but she had a voice then...and her heart was in it. That was 6 weddings ago for her. I would love to see her find that again. She hasn't been single since she was 15 so her heart is spread across too many valleys now and she has to go back and patch it back together. Bionic, but it works. It can be done. That I know for sure.
6)Walking into a room wearing crisp white. I don't know why, but I love that. Whether I do it or someone else, I just smile and feel joy. I'm so simple.
7) The human spirit. See, I cry easy. It doesn't take much. I can watch a movie and when two characters hit upon the essence of the human spirit, I lose it. When I am out and about and I see the random goodness in people, even if it's a man extending his arm to help a child that has fallen get up or a woman smile at another woman, not jealous or sizing her up, I just see something in that. It's love, it's hope, it's wonderment, it's kindness given freely without thought.

There are so many more and perhaps I will continue and make that an ongoing process to this site, but as usually, I'm digressing from the point. It's my blog. I can. Random. Like me.

In summary, Ellen did a great job hosting last night. The show flowed well. She really did honor all the people present and watching and the best line of the night was when she said "If there were no gays, no Jews and no Blacks, there would be no Oscars." You got that right! But more, there would be no us. There would be no world. We're all essential to the functioning of this place. Even those that would make the rise unpleasant serve a purpose. They give us the markers for our own progress. They give us a grain to go up against. They are essential to our essence.

After all the hell my father put me through, I cannot ever curse the day he was born because he happens to have been at trial I needed in life. He wasn't the thorn on this rose, he was the watering. Essential to my growth. For awhile, I calloused under his abuse. I know I did. I'm even thankful for that because now that I know what my worst looks like, I know how to shine as my best.

Eddie Murphy didn't win last night. There are no coincidences. Alan Arkin has been working for 40 years and done some remarkable work in his life. It was his time. For some reason, I think Eddie Murphy will be even better after this and an Oscar forthcoming someday. But see, he has "enough". I hope he realizes that. If anything, I hope Eddie looks at his last release, Norbit and says, what could I have done better that would generate an outcome that measures my work amongst my peers? Norbit wasn't it. Norbit was insulting and demeaning and I don't care how much self esteem the woman had...there are things we just don't do yet and cannot do yet until we are all looked at from the same view finder. Oh, it was comedy and well received by "certain" audiences...but where is the heart in that? I don't find that audience laughing at a large Black woman funny...wait, a loud, large and abusive Black woman. We are more than that. We are better than that. Come again!

I think the rest of the Oscars went to all the right people for all the right work...but Jennifer Hudson oversang and outshined Beyonce something fierce. I almost felt bad until I thought about the fact that Beyonce is "Pimping all over the world". She can't be touched and that was one night and it was Jennifer's night. See...we ARE better than that. Funny thing...the irony, juxtapose the lead female character from Norbit to Effie. Grace and heart can go a long, long way.

Martin Scorcese was honored by his peers. Helen Mirren was hailed as a sex symbol, that she is and one helluva actress. She's been doing this foreva. About time, I say. She earned this in Excalibur and I was a kid back then. Forest Whitaker was the King of the night though. I usually skip the last 3 big awards and go to sleep because they are usually no brainers. To be honest, these were no brainers too, but I needed to watch. This man has limitless talent and always has. After the Crying Game, he kinda drifted under the radar with much of Hollywood so they actually believe this was some sort of comeback. Note to HW--he never stopped working. Successful people usually don't.

There was balance behind the podium this year. It came in the form of diversity. Different ethnicities, different vibes, different languages, really different screenplays and ya know what? It worked! Now, if the rest of the world could just catch that vibe perhaps we could all live in some peace with some balance, appreciating each other for our differences rather than just tolerating them. And I guess that would be #8 for me...balance. Balance is one of my favorite things.

Curious and Curious-er

2007-02-25T15:02:00.000-08:00

Yeah...Alice in Wonderland quotes. Been a dreamy kinda day.

I've been doing a lot of writing today and so I'm numbing a bit with the music video channels serving as background noise. It helps me hit upon topics I wouldn't otherwise. I just saw two Vanessa Williams videos ( The Right Stuff and Work to Do) and remembered how I loved those songs. I think it's because I was coming of age and she looks just like my mom. That kinda sucked growing up during those periods when she was single because well, what 16 year old boy wouldn't look at a woman like that and say "THAT's your mom". I just rolled my eyes just as I used to when I would hear that line. I drew the line the week of prom when I heard it. I skipped the shin dig altogether and told him to take my mom instead. I don't even regret it. LOL!

Now watching Amy Winehouse "You know I'm no good". Gosh, it's bad girl anthem week or something. This woman has a great voice but as much as I like the vibe of the song I can't see myself singing along because well, I know I'm some good. She might not be. That's on her. LOL! If she tells me that's who she is, then I'm gonna believe her. A nod to the great ones. The song is about a woman that cheats on her boyfriend with an ex and basically isn't sorry for it and get this, he's alright with it thinking that it's gonna change when they get married. Um, as the sum product of parents and step parents that married each other and other people 21 times, I can guarantee that cheaters never stop being cheaters and their favorite person to cheat is usually themselves.

Not going to do a play by play of videos...but Lisa Stansfield is on now. Hmmm, the cycles of music. Finish this: Lisa Stansfield is to circa 1988 ( around then) as BLANK is to 2006. Answer:

Joss Stone.

That was an easy one. But how about finding the link between Lena Horne, Diahann Carrol, Vanessa Williams and Beyonce? It's book worthy actually. Oooo speaking of links, Al Sharpton just had a press conference to reveal that a leading genealogist had determined him to be related to Strom Thurmon. My only comment, "Awww hell naw". I'm not sure I would announce that. But ya know, whatever floats your boat. Oh My..they just played Jonathon Butler's "Lies".

I know I said I was done, but when BET video soul came out and oh Donnie Simpson....oooo, oooo, oooo and I was like 13 so way too young to be saying ooo, ooo, ooo to Donnie...but anyway, they had like 10 videos and "Lies" was one of them. That, Randy Hall, what else? Why do I just remember the fine men? That was the year we moved to "The City". I became acutely aware of the fact that for the first time in my life, I was neither the only Black person in a room and that there was more to being attractive than having blonde hair, blue eyes and being an Amy or Jenny. No offense as two of my closest friends happen to have both blonde hair, blue eyes and are Amy and Jenny. But still. I remember an old Prince special on Paisley Park that said Minneapolis was the whitest city in America. LMAO! Well, yeah. It is. And the most open to Interracial dating and marriage. Wrote a song about, wanna hear it, here it goes. Giggles.

Again, being the sum product of so many of those and having parents that both married several spouses of other ethnicities and then doing it myself, I can't say a thing but suffice to say, I don't take part in conversations about the destruction of the Black family. Hell, I unwittingly bought a front row seat. Thing is...maybe my contribution isn't nearly as great as some others. So when Snoop stops C-walking in videos, Nelly n'Dem stop wearing grills made of Blood and conflict diamonds and Diddy and BirdMan stop appearing in and producing videos that depict women as nothing but ass, maybe then I'll consider adding my name to the list of confessors. Until then....

Well, I guess that's really a pivotal issue anymore, at this point, but 12 years was a good run for any marriage...especially one that started from a chance meeting at a Grateful Dead concert. I'm so damned open minded I hurt my own brain cells sometimes. See..say no to drugs. You go out one night and it's all about Tyson Beckford and the next day, you're in wedded bliss with Taylor Hicks. LMAO! I won't have another Sex on the beach...I'll tell ya that! Not that there is anything wrong with Taylor Hicks or my own personal Taylor because there wasn't. But most people don't fit the things they did at 35 as they fit when they were 25. You should. You want to. You try....but sometimes, you just don't. But hey, that's another story, isn't it?

Ok...back to work and VH-1 soul. Oh My..Corrine Bailey Rae, "Like a star". TIMING! Curious and Curious-er. There are no such things as coincidences.

Listen...

2007-02-25T07:32:00.000-08:00

and if the song doesn't stir you, nothing will at this moment in life. It's a good song. Great? Well, play it in 10 years and let me know what it stirs and we'll both know. A song must transcend in order to do that. Listen is an anthem. It speaks to the soul of a woman. That transcends race ( a social construct), but can a man sing it and make your heart weep? Can he feel it in the equivalent of a womb? The depths of his being....hmmm, not sure. Ask Louis Armstrong how it's done. He knew. As Stevie Wonder. He knows. Ask Carole King for that matter because most of us know what it's like to wonder "Will you still love me tomorrow".

I've been married since I was 24 and I used to ask that question of others and need the answer. Not so much anymore. I will still love me tomorrow. Good enough.

I ask all this because it's Oscar night and I'm feeling some joy...and some discontent. Joy because baby we are representing. People of color are all over those ballots. I know Forest will win. I know Jennifer Hudson would be a great choice as well...but I won't be dissappointed if she doesn't.

She did a good job. Check the emphasis on that word "Good". Follow me, folks. She earned the right to be in the category...but handing us awards because you know ( you being Hollywood) that it's long overdue won't correct "The Color Purple". People really believe Whoopie got an award for that. They think Denzel got one for Malcom X. No kids, they SHOULD have...but they did not. And not because the other films were so great that they were up against. There is politics in Hollywood, like everywhere else.

We saw it at the Grammy's. The Dixie Chicks made a good cd. There are some really GREAT songs on it. But did they eclipse Mary J.??? Um no! The truth is they deserved that award YEARS ago...but politics got in the way, so Grammy said, "My bad, let me fix that and we're all good". It was transparent and they accepted. They had to or they really wouldn't ever work in that town again and truth be told, they ain't working in Nashville again so they need Hollywood. Not dumb girls. You do what you have to do.

On 9/11, I could barely speak. For me, that's saying something. I mean it. At first, I thought the tower was a local building in my city where I had friends and family working at that hour. I sat stunned, glued to the set. Then, I woke my husband and he said, "It's a clear day. That's no accident" and we watched the 2nd plane hit. My initial reaction was shock, then it was, "Wow, what a perfect set up." The enemy of my enemy is my friend. Someone understood that. Believe that. We won't find that out until this generation is long gone much in the way that JFK's reports won't be released until 2070. By then, the fervor to discover the truth will have died with 2 generations. But, I digress.

I was supposed to leave on a flight to Disneyworld to meet 20 online mommy group friends. We had been planning that meeting since we all found out we were pregnant with our first children and formed our group. We were together for years. Bonds created. We traveled the world to meet each other. We loved each other. We became family...and then, I spoke. I spoke the truth, but far too soon. I knew 9/11 was going to be a pre-cursor to vengence. In the name of the father, they say. How many people must write of that before people understand that it gets us no where? The name of the father, the sins of the father. Papa was a rolling stone. GoOD. That's his deal. Let him have it, I say. Bush should have left it alone and looked in every hen house, outhouse, cat house and cave for Bin Laden, had a coke and a smile and shut the fuck up. I can say that. I'm already checked at the airport twice through security. I'm on the subversive's list. The lesson, Ice T said, "Freedom of speech, just watch what you say".

I said what I had to say to 'My friends' about the trumped up war and charges. You can't liberate a free people. You cannot bring peace with a gun and bombs. If I walked across the street to my neighbors house and tried to liberate his wallet ( oil), he would be well within his rights to liberate my ass straight to Val Halla. You cannot come into a man's home and try to man handle him because you don't like how he is living. Now, I didn't like Saddam. I know he was a brutal dictator. We just love to say that. But we got our own now don't we? Has he killed less people than Saddam? Do the averages. Calc the numbers in years. He's well on his way and if we didn't have term limits, trust that we would see shackles come back in fashion. He's no Christian. He's a politician and they have no religion. You need a soul first. Politicians check that at the door. I told my friends that I would say prayers for their friends and family ( and mine) that were going to fight, but I would never ever support this bullshit war because it had no basis in reality. They kept changing the definition on us and people bought that bs. Liberate? WMDs? Huh, what? WHAT about 9/11? What about Bin Laden? If it's yellow cake you are looking for, North Korea wasn't hiding theirs. We didn't liberate them and they are still living in 1954 thinking they whooped our asses in the war. Mind control is no joke. They still believe we are their enemy--well we are, let's not lie--but they believe it because their government told them so and they bought it. I stopped buying what our government was selling when I was 15. Trickle down means we get to keep getting richer and if some spills over and trickles down to you, you can keep it. I mean, minimum wage hasn't been increased in 25 years to match the way we live. People still making $7 an hour, yeah..but they USED to have benefits with that. Ok..yeah, this is another post. I can feel my blood pressure rising. Let me go back to light and fluffy like we like it because we can't handle the truth Ruth. So nice and easy like Tina. It's all good. *winks*

I say this because we haven't said enough. Dreamgirls opened in barely any theaters. The marketing was horseshit. The posters, horseshit. You have the day's top money makers and they couldn't do a damn thing to stand against it. I say couldn't because one of them is playing the Dixie Chicks game. She can't say anything. Her career is too ripe for her to take any stands. She needs cross over appeal. Steppin Fetchit. BUT, that door is open. It's been paved now. The next one can say, "take your nomination and shove it up your ass". They can say, recognize the results that IN SPITE of you, we made a product that sold and we rose to the occasion. They can say, "FIne, don't market it...I have money. I'll do it myself...but I want a percent of the total earnings from now until the end of time". Own the masters boo...and I mean that figuratively and literally. The musicians can feel me.

Some day, someone will step up and walk that stage to accept an award for Best Picture and Best Direction and their face will look remarkably like mine. I say this, because I have no doubt that it will be mine. Believe that! I do! Crash. Transcend. Listen!

Me and Amazon.com

2007-02-23T12:12:00.000-08:00

Alright...I need to stop. I have been ordering on Amazon like crazy this month. A long extended Valentine's day gift to myself....like every other day! I have 3 orders from yesterday in transit. It wasn't purposeful. But hey, shopping happens and I'm 3rd generation shopper. It's in my genes. Oh, which reminds me. I bought the cutest jeans yesterday too. I'm so vain, I know she wrote that damn song about me. KIDDING!

But here's the deal; I got tickets to Harry Connick Jr. last weekend while I was on my "Mom needs a writer's retreat at a hotel" and I needed the cds. He released two and they are all Nola based tunes and you know how I do. If it's home, I'm in. Plus, I can can, I know that I can, I know damn well I can work it out. Giggles.

Speaking of working it out, I have lost 40 pounds. I'm not trying to look around and see where they went. I'm not all that interested. No diet was neccessary. Just contentment. It's amazing what singing in your soul can do for your body. Now if only I could stop this compulsion to listen to certain rap ( mind you, not hip hop...but skanky skrippa pole rap) and do the booty shake, I would be somewhere. Belly dancing is helping but that's still too close to the damn pole. At least being in my 30s, financially stable and a soccer mom, assures me that I won't be hitting the pole anytime soon...but maybe one day, privately, I'll get a pole for my bedroom. What a shameful hussy I can be. Told you I can work it out! You betta ask somebody!

I picked up another Mary J. cd and John Legend's latest but I debate over Earth, Wind and Fire's Gratitude. My first concert when I was 7, back in 1978 and I remember being wowed. All the lights in that show just set my mind a buzz. Then to see that many Black folks on stage...I was like "whatever that is, I want some". It's not my gift though. I can walk a stage...not stand there and do anything. 'And the award goes to' happens to work well for me. I'm good with that, but back to the matter...I wanted that cd but it's all remastered and I didn't want to taint those memories just yet. I wanted to get someplace and write about them, uncluttered and without any newly invented memories from that cd. Once I get that done, I'll pick up the cd. Oooh, but I did get an older George Michael. I've been rocking Songs in the Key of Life all week. Cannot get away from "As" and G.M. and Mary J. did a remake of it a bit ago. The video is weak. Budget high, concept low. Hated it!

I also bought a few new books, some Burt's bees lotion..and why I bought that from Amazon when it's at my local frou frou grocery store, I do not know. I really do not know. It wasn't a savings..but there is something to knowing that it will be at my front door in 20 minutes. Ok..overnight delivery is a problem too. But I didn't do that for all of the orders. Just one. I bought a belt buckle with my name on it from Ebay. Um....I'm 36 years old. WHERE THE HELL AM I GONNA WEAR THAT? See, this is what happens when I write about my youth. I start thinking I'm 23 again and I'm looking at all these lil boys rapping from Hot Lanta and getting ideas, but I would break those poor children. I'm not Cameron and Lloyd ain't Justin...oooh and not with one single anyway. LMAO! It might work for Demi and Ashton but I won't be having kids in my 40s and I won't be raising any spouses. I leave that to the men of my age group.

Awww...I just saw a cute skit on Noggin--watching cartoons with my son--and it was two little girls doing the familiar game of hand clapping, singing about August Wilson to honor Black History Month. I'll hold my tongue that we only get a month, shortest month, and that somehow a history that included White people doing some dirt gets ignored and chucked up to Black history month. That's kinda like talking about how Tina Turner "overcame" without mentioning that it was Ike's ABUSE that she overcame. Oooh, here I go. I was in a good place. Let me stop tripping. Another day, girl. Another day. In through the nose, out through the month. Exhaling all damn day! LOL!

Can't stop these fingers

2007-02-23T11:41:00.000-08:00

Gosh, so many ways to interpret that title today...I have hundreds of pieces from various blogs and I need to somehow merge them all this weekend so that will be forthcoming. Then I guess I should organize these into succinct areas of focus. I'll get there.

So, pop quiz in pop culture...celebs gone wild. I'm going to say it, but I don't want to. I don't want to send anymore energy her way because the girl can't handle it. I remember back in the day someone telling me that being on stage is addicting because you have thousands of people focusing all their joys and wants and love and lust in one direction, at one person and that it's too much for one person. They were talking about Prince, but of all people, P wears that energy well. Usually anyway but it's been a few years since I've seen him. We're all getting older and wearing down a bit and I heard he had hip replacement surgery. I shouldn't have laughed. But, after all the damage his need for perfection did to so many, wait..European beauty ideals of perfection, did to so many spirits...specifically mine, I found aging funny. It's the heels. Had he not worn heels every day, he wouldn't have jacked his hips up. That and we have teeth to eat red meat. Eat red meat! I've been at his mama's house--way back--when she was making red beans and rice and some neckbones. Um yeah! Another Louisiana woman holding it down and being real. No shame in our game! None! Damn, I'm hungry now. Eat red meat! Just hold the salt.

Anyway, back to the pop stuff. Brit is this year's Little Girl Lost. Some may be old enough to recall when Drew Barrymore sported that People cover title, but Brit, Brit, Brit. It's called Post Partum Depression folks. She is getting divorced and she had a baby 5 months ago. No amount of money can make her above being human. These are things that happen in the human experience and can rip any woman to shreds. Why would she be immune? Would anyone like her if she were immune? No. The truth is that people are liking the fact that she isn't. Why do some enjoy watching other people fail? It's more than misery loving company...it's sick, really.

So she shaved her head. Alright. Hair gone. It will grow back. Her spirit is still in limbo. This girl walks around with a Kabbalah bracelet, and I doubt she knows what The Light truly is, and a star of David and she is from Christian Kenner, Louisiana. I know Louisiana Christians, I was born one of them. CenLa in the house! She is searching and searching and searching among the most lost in the world. Baby girl, you will not find it in Hollywood. I know. I tried that route once. Ended up at the Covenant house for lunch after living with two members of the Nation of Islam, a broke ass Photographer and a pimp off of Hollywood Bvld. WOW, that was some serious fun though. LOL!

That place is a haven for lost. If you are lost and want to stay lost, GO to Hollywood where you will be in good company with the rest of the searchers. There is a reason why so many cults blossum there. I'm not on a religious trip, I swear. It's not about that. But the girl is at rock bottom. She's probably been there for awhile. When you have money, you start to lose the people you can trust. You start to attract people that tell you what you want to hear. People are afraid that if they tell you the truth you will hit delete on their company and ya know what, likely ya would. Being honest. I get pissed when people tell me I'm opinionated. LMAO! But, I AM. The difference is that I'm not seeking approval in the eyes of any other person. I approve of myself. That's the difference between me at this age in my mid 30s and me at Brit's age.

She is seeking everything externally. How can you find the truth, the essence of the inside from the outside? You can't. Damn, didn't anyone show this girl the Wizard of Oz? Hell, the Wiz would work! The answer is within. Always has been always will be. If I could tell Baby Brit anything, I would tell her that she is all she will ever be and all she will ever need to be in life and that is perfection. There will never be another her. God did it right the first time. All the love she wants, all the approval is her own to gift to herself. It's hers in her hands. Once you start, Baby girl, you can't stop those fingers. It's all in your hands. Wake up every day knowing that you are enough and that joy is always yours...when you choose it. You won't find it in smoke, drink, men or the perfect weight. Pick a skinny woman and ask her if she could have anything in the world what she would wish for and damn if she won't answer you. That's the problem. If skinny was all that, she would say, I have no wants. My life is as it should be and getting better all the time. If rich was all that, if poor was all that, if marriage was all that, if being single was all that, pick a person and damn if they won't answer you. Hell, pick me. Ask me and I would simply say.....*smile*

The quest continues...too tired for fighting

2007-02-23T11:12:00.000-08:00

Long ago, I realized that the art of debate on message boards was the real skill...the art. Mastering the art. It doesn't matter the argument because pick one issue and I'll argue both sides and you'll not be any wiser to my true feelings about it.

For instance, we could talk abortion. We're in an election year...rather, double your money, we got a deuce on our hands since we won't be voting until November of 2008. Abortion WILL come up. It always does. It's not that it matters or that anyone really cares. It doesn't and we don't. People just need something to bullshit about and feel closer to supremacy and a stance on "Life" will surely do it.

Ok..maybe I will reveal my opinion. Thing is, abortion is legal. Most means of murder are. Most self mutilation is. It's when you ASK for assistance that people don't want to help. Ask for a needle and heaven forbid someone should make a passing in any form pain free. But if you would like a light for your cigarette, let me hand you the matches. It's your life, Boo. Smoke up! If you have a terminal illness, don't ask for help to end your pain. We cannot and we will not...but if you get knocked up, by all means, let me give you cab fare and get you to the local clinic to remove that cell. Cancer, no. Embryo, sure, why not.

When I was younger, I attended the largest pro-choice rally ever held in Los Angeles. I was gleeming with pride. There were tons of celebs there. I was 19. I believe in MY rights to my own body. I still do. That's the kicker. I still do. Where I'm not clear is my rights to another person's body or what will become a body. You see, when I grew up--and I did--I got married, got a good job, got a mortgage, paid taxes and THEN I got pregnant. I did it right. Well, it wasn't nearly that easy. I took fertility drugs ( another debate in itself) and THEN I got pregnant.

At 5 weeks along, I was fortunate enough to see a blink repeat on a screen and have a tech assure me that the "cells" that would be my daughter already had a heart beat that was alive, and kicking and beating as it should. That was life. I know that because I felt her grow each day for 10 months. Yes 10, don't believe the hype. 40 weeks is term. That's 10 months kids. Disinformation abounds, doesn't it?

Now, at that point, I could play any number of mind games with myself and convince myself that she wasn't a life yet. I could rid myself of that bleep on the screen...but knowing what it feels like to look at a calendar every year and wonder how old a child would be this year and the next and knowing how many friends that have that same wonder and always will, I knew full well, that was life. I'm not powerful enough to determine the fate of that bleep. It's not my call. Surely, I can play a role in snuffing it out just as I can in snuffing my own light out, but it's really NOT my call. It's not supposed to be. My course was done once the light started bleeping and blinking. Then it became my daughter's chart. Not mine. Mine has it's own forks and freeways. Once blinking, hers does too.

But let me muddy the road for you. When I delivered her, I hemmoraged. I was near death and had all but the "call time of death" stamped on my head. Baby rushed away from me, father with child, me and nurses and towels soaking the only life sustaining me from the bed. Giving birth, giving life nearly killed me. So...knowing that having a baby means that I might die, some would say--and it would be logical--that having another is suicide. YET, people helped me. They would throw Dr. Kevorikian in jail had he done that...but Doctors helped me. People prepared meals for me. They coddled me. They wanted me to "go through with it". Funny how that works. Which life was more valuable? We'll never know. We all lived...but the outcome in many countries and among many women that share my skin tone is that the mother usually dies. That tiny set of cells could have been the source for ending my own life. We really need to look deeper into the rights of living people. We're only scratching the surface and free will of those with free thought should be the prevailing wisdom here. If you don't want a child, do not have one. If you don't want an abortion, do not have one. If you are truly pro-choice, then allow someone that is Pro-life their opinion because they are exercising their right to their choice. It's theirs as you have yours. If you are truly pro-life, adopt a child. Support these children born poor, unwanted, underfed, under educated and underloved every single day of your lives and stop the hypocrisy. You cannot support reforming a system that feeds the very children you want so desperately to live and not be a hypocrite, a fool.

And I mean more than just a food bank. More than just dropping a few bags of clothes off for charity. More than just speaking the words Darfur once a year. If you value life, then value ALL life. Put up or shut the hell up. Value the life of people that live differently than you, look differently than you and value them as much as you value your own. Love them as much as you love your own children. Otherwise, you aren't really pro anything but you.

So where do I stand on abortion? I stand with God, folks. He's a powerful force to have on your side....any way the wind blows. I was given life and I have given life. I believe in life. Yours, mine and ours. To me, that's all that matters.

I'm saving this for a DEEP blog entry

2007-01-21T22:23:00.000-08:00

I need to simmer for a bit.

Yes...this blog is all about my reactions to message boards. It seems no matter where I go, a battle ensues. This would not surprise my father, the master baiter, I mean Debater. He raised me to keep that 3 year old nagging "Yes, but why" in the back of my head and my mother's assertiveness pushed me forward to verbalize it.

Tonight, I watched a woman fight off attackers as she defended her right to be child free. She has a link in her signature to her blog and it contains detailed and truth be told, quite exciting and enticing tales of her sexual conquests. Hell, I wanted to know more. I'm no hater. Giggles.

Well, her sexual nature was used against her and turned the argument on it's head. It became a bash of "No, you shouldn't have kids because all you want is good sex". Wow, now good sex is a crime. So this means...what...they defend bad sex? HELLO? What's the point? If you're going to shave your legs, make it worth it.

I actually bought a book this week from Amazon called 5 minutes to O. I have many reasons for buying it but mostly because I always want to know if I'm missing something. I know how to get there in 45 seconds with a set of AA batteries but it gets complicated with dishes to do, work demands, fussing with your spouse, reading bedtime stories and by then, you're just ready to crash...so 5 minutes sounded right up my alley time wise.

I read 65 pages in about 30 minutes. Could have had 6 orgasms instead I guess, but hey, I took one for the team, figuring I would spread the good word later. So, after coming back to the board war, I asked a simple question..."Is sex meant solely for procreation? If so, WTF is the clitoris for?" I can't wait to hear the bash on me for the gall to ask such a thing. I mean...a woman actually being assertive about her body parts...crazy isn't it? CLaiming them? Making them work? Not only that but not holding a man responsible for something in her control....yep, bound to be convo.

Just for chuckles, I mentioned Constantine and all the other Guys that played a role in the Bible and how they had so much to gain by keeping a woman's sexuality as a possession and making it so "dirty" that even she wouldn't want to go near it. I challenged them. Dig deep fellas. The clitoris has ONE purpose. ONE. The Bible skipped it. The Fem. mystique grazed it. Many a hand has discovered it. Women WILL figure it out some day. It's OURS damnit. But anyway...I'm going to add this to the blog entries I will come back for. I'm too tired to delve into this and make any sense tonight. MEds, gotta love them.

And just who are you anyway?

2007-01-21T21:48:00.000-08:00

Why do people bother to ask? Thousands of years and gazillions of theories and people still wake up daily and don'thave a clue who they are. We go along with these mirrors. Mirrors held by other people. We casually walk by and glance and along the way, each mirror holder shouts out their answer to the question, not about themselves, but about us and along the path, we come up with an answer and damnit not even an original one. It's someone else's answer. We are who other people believe we are.

Sometimes we are the voices in our head that take issue with their declarations of our personage, but usually, we just kinda roll with it. This week, I'm letting everyone take their shot at me. Tell me who you think I am. Not that I'm going to believe you....because I happen to believe myself above the norm. I define myself by my roles and my "feelings" about my dedication to my roles.

A poster on a board asked us all to rate our devotion to country, ethnicity and gender. This was on the African American board, of course...because ethnicity would have been replaced with political affiliation on the OTHER board I belong to.

I responded that I am an African American woman. Period, end of story. The HORROR! You see, on that board, I cannot win. There I face the never ending battle with Muslim men...African American Muslim men that prefer to be called AfriKAN and think that I have been brainwashed by "White, lesbian, feminists" into all of my thought patterns. They believe my soul so far gone that it cannot be saved and pretend they WOULD have thrown me a life preserver had I not married a White man 12 years ago.

They think that because I relax my hair, I'm embracing White culture and Eurocentric beauty ideals. They believe because I champion a day when we can all live together that I have forgotten my history. Well, I wrote the wiki page on my ancestors...see Shankleville, Texas. I have research my family history for 15 years and I can trace my roots TO a slave ship and an African woman. A nameless African woman. For her, I will NEVER allow my identity to be anything that denies her. In me, there will always be "African woman".

I happen to be a American. Oprah loves to say how blessed we are to have been born in America, but damn, there are chains of bondage everywhere O. The ones here are just easily recognizable and we have a fighting chance to remove them. BUT, I'm grateful that no one has mutilated my genitalia. I'm grateful that the Taliban couldn't prevent me from getting an education. Albeit one I dropped out of and thus regret and will forever question my ability to complete a sentence. Damn..that's why I have a memoir sitting here collecting dust. Just don't trust a college drop out to succeed. So yeah, I'm been brain washed but the fems didn't do that to me.

They lied to me too. Told me I could have it all. A career, a good marriage, solid and healthy kids...but they didn't tell me that something has to give. WHat gave was my health. 2 rare diseases that get to eat me alive. I'm 36 and I have to write my own obit. But you know what, they held up the mirrors and they made statements as I walked by and I bought into it. I bought into all those mirrors.

I wanted the one that said "You are enough. You are more than enough and you are capable and worthy." That's it. But I got college job fair day with an exhibit every two feet and someone shouting roles at me with all the frenzy of those nut jobs that work the floor of the stock exchange. "You're Black, You're white, You're BI-racial, You're multi-ethnic, You're a negro ( gotta love Louisiana birth certificates), you're a woman, you're JUST a woman, you're not woman enough, you're a mother, you're a shitty mother, you're disabled, you're diseased and dying, you're a web designer, no a writer, no, a virtual assistant, no..better yet, you're a possession...you're a wife."

Maybe if I strip myself of all attachments, the labels will fade and then I'll find out who I am anyway. That would be a very long week at the Hotel Sofitel, but gosh, I could do it. I do love room service and the soap.

I'm rambling, so my apologies. I spent the night in the hospital because of the fluid around my brain. It kinda took over last night and no amount of my Fibromyalgia meds would touch the pain from the IIH. Orphan diseases they call them. I call them sheer hell. They have turned me into someone that I wasn't before. They have changed my identity. Suddenly, and not so sudden, I have to add "Disabled and losing the battle from invisible diseases" to my list of identities.

I would give just about anything to go back to that 19 year old whatever I was, that hung out with Prince every night and had no identity. At some point, who you are just becomes too much. Bad day!

Who is dating whom?

2007-01-18T19:49:00.000-08:00

Ok, I'll be honest...I'm not sure which word should be "whom" and I really don't care. I write. That's what I do. An editor can correct the mistakes. I'm not an editor. Deal!

Lately, the subject of who is dating whom has been all a buzz around me. Whispers of this brother dating that sister or dating that woman who is definitely NOT a sista. Then the, 'How do you feel about Black men that date (fill in the blank)' type questions on message boards. Well, my answer is the same for all the questions; I don't give a flying fig.

It's not that I don't care because I'm spoken for and I mean quite spoken for and albeit by someone that many wouldn't consider a brotha and not their brotha no how( unless the Black community has suddenly decided to invite Lithanian/Mayflower descendants into the fold--oh dear, was that swine by my 2nd floor window?), but more simply because it doesn't involve me. It doesn't touch me.

It a Black man wants to date a White woman or a Latina, then I wish them well. I'm not threatened by it, nor am I upset with him or do I think he stepped outside the bounds of decency. He did what is well within his right to do; he dated the person he felt so inclined to date. Good...because I use my options too.

People will say that dating interracially 'doesn't do it for them'...great, then don't do it. Some will even go so far as to say how disgusted they are by the opposite gender of another ethnicity, calling them ugly, insulting their scent and then even more will bring up our history of oppression and question the logic of dating specifically black/white interracially as a slap in our ancestors faces.

Problem for them is that they don't know my ancestors. I happen to know many of mine. I happen to know how their lives were affected by interracial dating and marriage and I know also that many rebuked the status quo and went with their heart, at very high prices to their lives. I know the biggest slap in their face would be for me to be complacent, shiftless, ambitionless, devoid of morals and values and to let my circumstance define me. I know that they would appreciate the woman I have grown to be and I know they would be proud of me and my accomplishments. I know they would look into my bi-racial children's eyes and see their own facial features reflected back in two children with lighter complexions, but that are confident in their Blackness and at their young ages, able to stand up, say that and be proud of who they are as people.

You see, no matter who I would have married in life, my children would have been Black anyway because I'm Black. Had the U.S. not had the One Drop rule in full effect, my own moral code would state that loud enough. I happen to be immensely proud of being Black and would have wanted my children to celebrate that.

My kids also happen to be part White. Should that be celebrated as well? See, this is where people begin to disagree with me on the melanin challenged side of the argument. I think the world tends to celebrate being White just fine as it is without my two kids adding to that. Pick up a magazine or turn on the television and the vast majority of people you see are White and their culture IS being celebrated and revered. They ARE championing themselves. So much so, that my children do not need to be reminded of it, they do not need to question the role of White people in society. The books they have in schools will teach them of the history of White people and they will not be denied any portion of being White...well, almost.

You see, while most people consider themselves so open minded, they also have this thing that their brains do going back to Sesame Street asking "which one of these is not like the other"....it's natural. It happens. We look at a new person and our brain automatically seeks out similarities between them and ourselves and those become the unspoken bond. That's why it's so easy to say hello to a passerby of the same ethnicity when standing on the corner waiting for the bus. You are already at ease with them because of your similarities. The opposite remains true of differences. That's why most people don't just strike up conversation with someone of a different ethnicity in that same situation.

Now, I'm not saying it doesn't happen, but I don't believe that it's instinctual. I think going out and approaching that person with more differences requires the outgoing personality or the liberal mindset or the extra and beyond...do you get my meaning? It's here that YOU and your personality come in to play.

Ahh...real life catching up to me so I will have to continue part two of this to futher explain the identity my children have, my issues with who chooses to date whomever and how I believe our personalities affect interpersonal communication..rather interethnic, interracial communication. To Be Continued...

And then, there was harmony

2006-08-24T00:08:00.000-07:00

And on days when there is true harmony, the writing goes to the book(s). Blogs must wait until another day.

Did I mention I was banned from the site with my "pals" that argue back and forth? Bitties! I could call them worse, but in the end, we're still on 2 or 3 other boards together and well, it's beneath me to get sooo nasty without being sanctimonious. I'm still focused on the other boards, the political ones and the African American board. I say that because they have actually had a topic about whether or not White people should be excluded from the site. Enter my sensibilities--wouldn't that mean that in some cases, one half or 1/4 or 1/8 of their own persons could not post? Yes, an affirmative. I just like the idea of countering prejudice with sense. Until it's gone, I'll continue just the way I have been. It's meaty and it loosens up my hands for the day, crippled and wilted from that damn disease. And I actually have to make a living with these things...unreal. Some day I'll ensure them for $500,000. Not a million because that's already overkill and passe for the Hollywonders that do that for their legs and other body parts. I'll just do it to do it...besides is it even possible that another part can break on these bones? I think I've covered all the bases as is.

That board is something else. I just stopped back there and yet again, another dagger comes out for the old girl. I just can't stand those convos that deviate from the topic and call me an Oppressor Lover. I mean, sure, I could be called worse, but by my own team? Hardly sounds fair though it is amusing. One the one hand, I'm the Angry Black Woman on White Message boards...they just can't handle the truth, I guess...but there is very little anger. It's mostly projection that they are misunderstanding. On the Black board, I'm the lover of the Oppressors, so Eurocentric I can't see straight. That's the belief. Never should have told them about that ring...now they can't forget it. Maybe I like walking that fence. Who knows? Maybe I'm amused that I confuse people that much. But maybe, just maybe I play the Devil's Advocate because I know it forces people to think on their feet and challenge their current belief system. They don't have to believe mine...not under any circumstance...but they can't very well stay stuck on stupid either. Not in my presence. It's holier than thou, sure...but hey, I wear it well.

At any rate, I'm getting tired of it all. These days I actually play a lot more than debate. I find time for debate sure, but I limit it considerably. It really isn't good for my health. So this week, I've stuck to simple issues and simple topics like the war in Iraq and this whacko trying to save his butt by lying and claiming he killed Jonbenet.

Ok..wasn't going to blog this, but what a sick bastard! He plays the pedophile role well, but when it comes to frying his ass in Asia, he opts for claiming he murdered and sexually assaulted a child that he did a term paper on to get into US prisons because what, they are a cake walk for sick puppies like him? I rad his resume the other day and HELLO red flag city on the pedo tip. I mean, this monster should have been in some prison a long time ago. His first wife was 13! That went out with Jerry Lee Lewis. And now, Nancy Grace has an entire week dedicated to him. Confessions of a killer with a damn question mark. When Nancy Grace isn't even calling him out, that's a sure sign there is a weak case somewhere. I'm as liberal as the day is long but pedophiles have no place in our society. I strongly advocate imprisoning them for the duration of their natural lives...and then 50 more years for their unnatural lives. Killing them? No...who's pain does that end?

I just think it's interesting...these pedos and serial killers. One group leaks them out the most. People think of the word pedophile and they see a 45 year old White man, don't they? They think serial killer and the same person comes to mind. When are people going to get that there is something seriously wrong with that picture? These scum are being bred by a nation that supports them. A nation that is fathering them and nurturing them. Yet...who are the ones that are villified? The Brown ones. Hardly seems right.

In TV land, I caught Spike Lee's Requiem on Katrina. It was done in 4 parts and I HATE that my Tivo didn't record the first 2. Apparently I had it set up to record anything he was noted as directing. I did this a month ago because the listing wasn't showing yet and I knew I would forget about it--lovely meds--and the purpose was to avoid all this and damnit if I didn't do it anyway.

I saw part 3 and spent the greater part of that hour in tears. I can't take sorrow in Louisiana. It's my birthplace and that's the blood running through these veins. I just couldn't take it...watching all those people, my fellow citizens, my sistas and brothers wading through water, criminalized and called refugees in their OWN HOMES and left to die. I never use the word hate in terms of people. It's far too simplistic and it's overused and doesn't convey the right emotion...but I can think of no other way to describe a President that would leave all those people to die.As we approach the one year mark--with very little having been accomplished in the Gulf, I know that I will never get the sound out of my head of a woman mourning the death of her 5 year old daughter who was washed away in the waters and not found for 6 months. I have a 5 year old. Washed away? A baby? And not found for 6 months. It was a scream and wail that came from her womb and made its way to the surface. It's one that every mother will hear and fall to her knees to pray to God she never ever feels what that woman is feeling. Ever. And a government that would allow it...allow those levees to be left as they were and left those people as they were BEFORE the damn hurricane...may God have mercy on their souls, because I sure as hell cannot.

So much for not blogging. I think I need to talk about Katrina more. I left Louisiana on a Sunday after burying my grandmother. Katrina came the next day. They say most everyone has PTSD from the hurricane. I had it before then, but after 9/11 and after Katrina, we are a nation of Post Traumatic Stress in varying forms of disorder. That's blogging tomorrow. Maybe I should stop over at my happy blog tonight and flip this up a bit. Must have the balance. Think I will.

Remember Katrina people. Remember that people aren't home yet. New Orleans cannot ever be the same without it's heart in place. It's heart is spread out across the US now. It must be repaired. It just must be.

Clearly, it's been a week.

2006-08-20T19:44:00.000-07:00

It all started out fine, I guess...in the message board realm. No real wars. Well, until I stumbled back to a familiar stomping ground that is. Why I returned is something only a really bad therapist would answer.

I poked around the political threads, saw that a guy pal of mine joined in on a few pertinent topics while I was "away" and I added my own spin on the spin. This is the purpose of aforementioned message boards; to put your spin on some previous spin. That's what we do.

Some go to fight. Some go to talk. Some go to "make friends"...and for those sorry lots, bars are cheaper and the friends longer lasting. Mind you, read that sentence again. You don't go to a board to make a friend. It's the silliest thing to do in the world. What you will find is people you agree with, people you don't and those that agree with you ( altogether different than you agreeing with them--yes, you had to be there) and even those that will not, could not, in a house, with a mouse no matter what.

So when I see the topic of "What is assimilation", an alarm goes off in my head. You see, I've known this particular group for 3 years. We've been up and down every side of every story every which way but loose...and we still end up on boards together. There is something sick about that because most of us don't particularly like each other. Second alarm. Now...with the alarms already going off, I should run. I should head for a place where I know I won't have these conversations, and where I know I won't feel compelled to state exactly how I feel, where I can pre-type the replies to each of my posts hours before it pops into the heads of "some" because it's a subject I've covered again...again and again.

I'll pull out the Anti-Racist links. I'll pull out the Tim Wise articles because I know that people, well, some people respond better to hearing the exact same thing that comes out of my mouth when it comes from a White person's mouth. This is because the filters they use to listen to me are not alerted or turned on when they hear that other speaker. With me, they see my avatar a mile away. They know what I'm going to say and I know what they are going to say...so we dance.

Now, we all know my biggest peeve is lumping and labeling. It's not ok to say ALL White people or ALL Black people or ALL Hispanic people or Asian people especially since with the latter you are talking about MANY millions of people from DIFFERENT countries that speak different languages from even each other..yet we toss them into those comfy little boxes so our brains can digest them more easily. Making someone more palettable. No, I don't know how to spell that and spell check irritates me, so it won't happen.

So..I chime in. I urge myself and plead with myself to be patient. I beg and reason with myself to not give it straight no chaser but to say it softly...but that's just not me. I am straight no chaser. Hard up, against the wall, with a pillow. No, not dirty talk..get a bartender's guide and your mind out of the gutter. But, I digress.

My two cents was this: Assimilation is not insisted upon, it's forced. It's not assimilate to "MY" culture ( not meaning me MY )because I explain that culture has not yet been created. We're only so many years old. It's just not there. Even Apple pie and baseball cannot be claimed by us. Culture is expected but impossible is where I go. I persist. I say it's forced upon all of us. People will look at their neighbors that practice voodoo and scream change, CHANGE! or you cannot stay here...you most certainly cannot be American. These same neighborly neighbors will not stop at a library to read about voodoo....they will not learn that it's Christianity in another guise. They will call out aninal sacrifice as cruel and inhumane. Well, that's why they are animals, not humans. Sorry Peta friends. We eat chicken in drive thrus. We consume more beef than ANY place on the planet. We eat our animal sacrifices too. Just because we don't watch the slaughter video does not mean we are holier than thou. It means we are dumb. It means we are hypocrites.

I move on from my perspective..and no, I didn't lay it out like that above at all. I was a bit soft and it was solely an African American slant. Then...I took notice of the "new" forum. 25 new topics in a new forum called "Illegal Immigration"...are you kidding me? And they want to talk Assimilation with ME? LMAO!

The main arguments in the I.I. forum have been the same we hear on O'Reilly...I'm not allowed to watch anymore because he does horrible things to my blood pressure. A good Liberal would sue him. A good Republican ( oxymoron ) would simply urge their constituents to pass their new law, pushed and financed by their friends at so and so lobbying group so that O'Reilly can't air because he would be declared Anti-American and Anti-Patriotic for raising my blood pressure. Sure it sounds far-fetched...but I bet you don't believe they are holding American born Muslim citizens that happened to have Arabic last names in Gitmo either? Heck, for that matter...they don't care if they are Arab or not, Muslim is enough to condemn under this admin...but I digress AGAIN.

So I start talking about BWalters and the View and the touching of Black women's hair. It leads me to "professional" standards of beauty which turns into Eurocentric beauty ideals. I point out the very ways we force people to assimilate, not into American culture or into America as a nation, but into White culture and into close enough White folks in order to be acceptable. Of course, that's discounted. Who would believe such a thing? I'm called a racist several times. It matters not that I call no one else a racist and use the word on rare occasions so not to diminish it's power when it is used. I'm not judging White people because I said White in a sentence. But then...there's that Illegal Immigration thread. Yes...let's talk assimilation.

So I leave the post and head to the II forum. There I find a new argument over border patrol that shot an alleged drug smuggler but have now been convicted of crimes for not following border patrol procedures and for trying to cover up their crime. The thread creator first goes on the attack..."we have to stop illegals because they are all drug smugglers." Remember..I said White in a sentence. I point out the flaws in the argument. I also point to the fact that the border patrol involved have Hispanic last names...which doesn't neccessarily lend itself to their being Hispanic, but it's a decent conclusion. So there goes the "They are all drug smugglers" argument. They broke the law in shooting this guy. I don't want a drug smuggler here anymore than anyone else. So use the law to send his ass packing. The law. The very same law the agents should have been using. End of that thread.

Next comes the Cynthia McKinney story and a video about young Black girls and their ideas of beauty. In the C.M. story, the conservative spin is that she had racists and anti-semites on staff and they said anti-semitic words, loudly I might add and in front of a camera to someone. I never figured out who and it doesn't matter. To counter the story, a man that works in talk radio and worked on staff is there to talk about the brew haha--nope, didn't spell that right either. Coz is all I recall of his name. Coz was let go because McKinney did not succeed in her bid for her seat in the House. The staff was fired in a few shifts rather than all at once. Smart move. Some one has to pack. HELLO! McKinney is no stranger to news...recall the incident of her hitting a security guard on the Hill when he denid her admission to the building because he didn't recognize her new hair style..something I will discuss later about African American women, our hair and the way it's perceived by "some". She also stood alone in voting against the war in Iraq.

So, Coz explains that McKinney is not a racist, she is not an anti-semite, though she has been vocal in saying the US needs to stop supporting Israel now in this Lebanon thing. BTW--I agree. And no, I'm not an anti-semite and have removed my own mother from a family outing for saying such remarks that my children could hear about her Jewish ex-Dh. I simply do not tolerate intolerance. Whatever that makes me, it makes me.

Hannity--Coz is on Hannity and Colmes goes after the guy and asks why McKinney hasn't apologized for the remarks. Ummm...because she didn't say them and fired the guy that did. Fired the Black man that did. So much for that racist thing too. Well, the title of the thread was Cynthia McKinney is an Anti-Semite and fires a Jewish staffer. I said this all in the wrong order. Bear with me. I'm tired and under medicated. The thread starter posted an interview that came AFTER the Coz interview ( hmm..maybe I was doing this in chronological order, yes, that's the ticket)..so in the interview with the Jewish staffer he says that he doesn't believe Cynthia McKinney is anti-semitic and has never heard her say anything that would lead him to believe that. His bone of contention is that he was fired the day after he requested a Jewish Holiday off. That's his issue. Umm...he's an idiot. She fired her WHOLE STAFF! That would include him. If it happened to fall on a holiday, why would she want to pay anyone for an additional day they were taking off? Made no sense. I posted the Coz interview to rebutte the Jewish staffer fired premise.

So...moving forward by a day. There is another drama going on but I will spare the details. In the thread that features the video with the young Black girls, a 16 year old--as this is her production-- recreates the Clarke study that was done for the Brown vs. Board of education case 30 some odd years ago. She has 21 children, all African American I believe, and she tests them with two idential dolls, except for the fact that one was Black and the other White.

My heart broke when a 5 year old was interviewed. "Which doll is the nice doll"...the little girl picks up the White doll with glee, positive she has the right answer. Next question, "Which doll is the pretty doll", again, she picks up the White doll. Now...my heart sinks...I know what is coming and I've been a 5 year old little Black girl in America. The interview continues, "Which doll looks most like you," the little girl hesitates and struggles with her choice. She politely puts the White doll back down and looks at the Black doll, her eyes veering from the floor to the doll as she puts off the inevitable. "This one,"she says and she nudges the doll forward, not even wanting to pick it up. But that doll is her...and she knows that. I'm watching a little girl's first awareness that she isn't permitted to love herself and it tore me up.

I'm jolted back into reality by the posts that follow. Now, a few people on this board are NOT just permissive of White privilege. Not only do they not scream when I bring it up, but over the past 3 years, they have learned a great deal about it and about themselves and they make real attempts to be aware of the things that go on around us. I'm fully aware that these types of people are not a majority in this country. When the question of race ( a social construct, so far better to just say ethnicity) comes up, I have to endure the "ahh, the race card again" or "Why do we always have to talk about race" or "Who cares about race, it's 2006"..or my personal faves, "My great great grandparents immigrated here..they didn't own slaves and I don't owe you anything." Well, of course no one owes me anything. I'm pretty darn self sufficient and aware of the fact that class wise, I live better than the majority. I don't apologize for that and I don't expect anything.

But what I would like is understanding. It goes a long way. Rather than throw up those same lame tired unquotables, try a new twist at keeping White privilege alive or just wake up to it and be a part of something that levels the playing field for all so you don't have to feel as if you got where you are with no effort on your part. I never try to minimize an individual's work or progress by mentioning White privilege. Not ever. But I want them aware that in the same regard that they get certain things they aren't even aware of simply for being the ethnicity they are, there are others still that are purposefully and lawfully restrained simply for being the ethnicity they are. It's not fair that I've had to work twice as hard, for twice as long to get as far...but I was raised knowing I would have to. I don't "whine" about it, because like I said..I'm better off than the next. But I just want us to all be upfront about what's real here and what's not. No, great grand parents may not have taken part in slavery...but did they assimilate, assume the prejudices of another to blend and then accept White privilege and leave their own Italian, Irish, Welsh or what have you culture behind to be White? If so, yes, then they are part of the problem and not the solution.

I don't want guilt either. People on that board felt that some times I implied they should have "White guilt". Now, that's a new one for me. WTF is that? I've certainly never seen this in action and half of my family is White by birth and the other half now by marriage. Come on! No, I'm not pushing guilt. It's not productive. It serves no one. I want no part in that. I want part of solutions. I want part of acknowledgement. I want our differences to be not tolerated but accepted. I deserve that. Not simply because of my work and my laurels but because my Native American and African ancestors toiled their lives away without compensation and saw unheard of criminal acts and crimes against humanity that someone most certainly DID participate in...and in doing so, thus created a system by which their descendants could also profit from that toil of the slave and the disconnect of humanity, divided into social constructions of race. Yep..you are damned right. Go deep, do long, do what you gotta do but get on board.

Because here's the thing...we aren't going anywhere. There aren't many left, but my Native family is still here. My African family is still here. My Irish family is still here. We aren't going to leave and we aren't taking anymore free boat rides, so people have to get over this thing of living apart without each other. We can't do that. One better, the borders will never be strong enough to keep the original inhabitants of this land away from it. Ever. The Mexicans are coming folks. It's wise to embrace them. It's wise to mark your calendars because the date will come when the population will shift..and alas, that fear I spoke about for so long on so many boards will be realized...I think that fear is this..."Once we are a minority, will the old minorities treat us the way we treated them". I think that's the real thing on Illegal immigration. I've watched that bad boy come to pass in Texas.

On many other boards I have said that brown people and black people have a common place in the soul of mankind and in God's heart. This I know to be true. Once we all figure it out, we'll be that much better and that much stronger for it. Think of voting. Think of putting our candidates where we want them and electing them into the highest offices in the country. Think of the schools being equal from neighborhood to neighborhood. Think of children that speak 2 languages naturally and then can embrace a 3rd before high school and yet another in college..as those are requirements now. We can put America back into her place as first in every field if we so desire. We can do that with our hands, fingers laced one with another, working for the same goal. We can do it all and show people how it should have been all along.

Then we can answer that fear and say with much conviction, "Hell no...we would never treat people the way we have been treated because we know what that can do to a peoples."

Stereotypes and then some

2006-08-01T10:33:00.000-07:00

So on a message board I frequent, the topic of stereotypes came up. One of those listed was that "certain" folks aren't intelligent. Another was that "certain" folks don't read. Well, they are stereotypes. There is likely some tidbit of truth at their core, but they can be spread across humanity, every ethnicity and truth can be found when limiting the group to a smaller sub group, etc, etc blah blah do dah.

Well, I came across an article called "Black Like Them". It was about West Indians and their treatment, acceptance and role in discrimination of African Americans that are native to the country. I asked a series of questions, focused them around the aritcle and urged everyone to read the article and let's talk about it. I get 20 replies. Their answers. "Yes, they are black". Hmmm. Not what I asked. What I asked what this:Are West Indians and Jamaicans Black (African American)?

Are they treated the same as African Americans?

Does their treatment from others change after they are 1 or 2 generations removed from the West Indies or Jamaica ( read any other locale as well)?

Do these immigrants to the US believe themselves different than African Americans born here and descended from slaves? Should they?

After reading the article, did any of your perspectives change or were they supported?

I wanted to talk about what the article said about "certain other" people hiring people from the Ghetto they didn't know vs the Ghetto they did know. To that, these employers would rather hire people that live distances further away from the place of employment because they felt it improved the quality of applicants. Racists and disgusting, but this is part of the article. It said much more than that and I found one of the studies done that supported the authors perspectives. I wanted to get into the meat of the discussion. Do we allow our differences to divide us? Do we give permission to "certain other" people to have basis in their prejudice by assuming us to be different from the lot or somehow not like the rest.

Most of us have heard that from time to time. "You're not like other "certain" people" It's bs. We know it when we hear it and it tells us more about the person saying it than they care to admit. I wanted to discuss it.

Instead, I got anger. I received "I'm not reading the article, but yes, we're all the same". Damnit anyway. We give credence to stereotypes everyday. People are always watching. Someone is always paying attention to things we do blindly and unconsciously. We have to be more conscious. It's not even a thought...we have to. Two people did read the article. Their responses were dazzling and they found the original article as amazing as I did. Informative and shocking were my words. The authors last sentence was profound and prophetic. We have to be leery of giving into "certain" things because as the author puts it, "In the new racism, as in the old, somebody always has to be the nigger." Uggh. It's worth the read. Check it out.

http://www.gladwell.com/1996/1996_04_29_a_black.htm Article

The View can just suck it

2006-08-01T10:27:00.000-07:00

Well, I can't think of another jab that will really explain how I feel more than that. I wrote a letter. Perhaps I'll print it here and you'll see my concern. Hmmm...

To: ABC, Disney, Robert Iger

Dear Mr. Iger

Last week, a friend emailed me a link to a video clip of the opening segment of The View the featured comedienne, Mo’Nique. My friend’s email, simply said, “How much are we as Black women going to tolerate?” I opened the link and my jaw sat open as I watched the co-hosts, led by Barbara Walters humiliate Mo’Nique by calling her children creatures and then clasp hands with each other as Barbara said “You all come and go but we stay here.”

Now there are many ways to interpret that. Ms. Walters could have been referring to Mo’Nique merely as a guest host. She also could have been referring to Black women as co-hosts and guest co-hosts. It really doesn’t matter how she intended it, but more how it came across and that was evident by the droves of audience members that sat quietly while only a few applauded. That spoke volumes considering the demographic of the audience and if it offended them, and caught them off guard, how do you think it came across to Black women? It was appalling. But it got much worse.

On a public message board, I found thread after thread examining the show's treatment of African American women. There, I found additional clips of Brandy and Tanika Ray during their appearances on the program. During their visits, Barbara has felt it necessary to degrade them by asking them if there hair was real and worse still, put her hands all through their hair to examine it herself. I would urge you to go through the entire video library of this show and demonstrate Barbara Walters touching the hair of any White guest. I would urge you to find one of her asking if their hair was real. I thought ignorance at that level was something that disappeared with Diversity training classes that companies like ABC and Disney invest millions of dollars in. If you don’t invest that, perhaps this is as good a reason as any to start.

Over the past 2 days alone, I have had my email box flooded with links to all of these video clips and comments full of disgust directed at Barbara Walters, Bill Geddes, Joy Behar, The View and ABC. Larger organizations are currently planning boycotts of all of your products from all of your subsidiaries. It goes without saying that I’m sure your ratings reflect that Black women have turned the channel during the hour when The View is on in our neighborhoods and many are sending letters to rumored guests to appear on the show urging them to show their solidarity and disgust by not appearing on any stage with anyone that would touch their hair for their own test of authenticity.

Offenses such as these wouldn’t be tolerated in your corporate offices and shouldn’t be tolerated on any level for anyone. In fact, had any corporate employee done any of the things that Ms. Walters has done, they may well be job hunting by now to avoid potential law suits on the basis of discrimination. The kind of ignorance it takes to put your hands on another woman and run your fingers through her hair and the audacity to ask if it is real speaks only to the most disgusting members of our society. What should we expect next? Will Ms. Walters be asking Black guest hosts to shine her shoes or tap dance for her? Barbara Walters has offended and hurt many viewers with her actions and that should be apologized for and atoned for. Tolerating insensitive actions such as these have halted our society’s progress on ethnicity, religious, and gender tolerance. In 2006, it is NOT ok to continue to let those incidents slide and think no one will notice.

Until very recently, I have been a loyal viewer of ABC’s The View. The program was just the right mix of humor, current political discussion, entertainment and provided me a great break from full time stay at home motherhood while my children napped, played and readied for their day. Before their births, when I was on bed rest, the show became a regular part of my day and I welcomed the co-hosts and their personalities into my home. For 9 years, I’ve enjoyed this program but over the past few weeks, that loyalty has quickly turned into disgust.

I think ABC drastically under estimated the viewers intellect during Star Jones’ departure. For her commitment to the show, she was rewarded with disloyalty from ABC and it goes without saying from Barbara Walters and Bill Geddes. That she chose to announce her exit on her own terms was met with something I’ve never seen before even on the worst of reality shows in the character, rather lack of character displayed by Barbara Walters the next day when she and her co-hosts made light of Star’s departure and then further attempted to humiliate her by not allowing her to finish out the week. All because she didn’t make her announcement on the day ABC told her to do so. That was shameful.

I respected the fact that Star Jones didn’t get into a mud slinging contest but in watching bits and pieces of the programs since, I have seen mud come from the other co-hosts and that includes Barbara Walters and most certainly Joy Behar. This says nothing of the fact that Meredith Viera was being replaced with a woman that was more than vocal about her disdain for Star Jones and dared to criticize her for her “honesty” and timing in being forthcoming about her weight loss surgery. A woman, Rosie O’Donnell that saved her own shocking announcements for the days after her own television show ended. You should know by now that even segments of the public, myself included, that enjoyed Rosie O’Donnell’s show were shocked to here of her hiring and even more shocked that ABC must not be aware of Rosie’s blog where she, on a daily basis, chronicles her rants against the President, the media, other celebrities and anyone she can think of, yet she cast the first stone at Star Jones. That hiring spoke to the character of ABC and Disney and made clear their bottom line was essential to pit two lesbians (Rosie and Ellen) against each other in a run for an Emmy and that more care and focus was on that than on honoring loyalty of viewers and Star Jones. For that reason, even on Rosie’s blog, people have been very vocal in saying they will not be watching The View in the future.

But this is not about Star Jones at this point for me. It’s about offending and wounding an entire segment of the population.

If I am to be honest, I would say that I do not have any negative wishes for the show, but having been an Executive and having worked in the Entertainment industry for a number of years, ABC is making some serious errors in judgment that foretell of a 10th season, mid-season, cancellation due to lackluster ratings.

I do hope this email reaches someone that actually cares about daytime programming as well as decency and has some authority with Disney and ABC. I am forwarding these concerns to as many Civil Rights organizations that will hear them and an email list and message board distribution list that puts most TV show ratings to shame. At least then, no one can say they never knew about these complaints as an excuse for not acting on them.

Sincerely,

The Source

But ok, I didn't really say The Source. I'm thinking that scares people. They think I'm a leak to gossip columns. I used to do that sort of thing in my teens, but I haven't since my fake ID finally caught up to my real age and that was decades ago. So I'm putting my disdain on blast. Barbara Walters--all respect gone. Joy Behar--turns out, you were just a receptionist after all. Elizabeth Who?--and sadly, that's how they'll remember you. A weird trivia question and another sting on the Style network and still, no one will recall your name. You'll be doomed to be 'The other one' forever. Star Jones--Now, girl, you knew better. Some folks, not saying which folks, but some folks do not like to see successful African Americans, much less African American women. It reminds them of the unspoken, unthought of, the hush that is privilege of flesh tones. It reminds them that they had all the opportunities in the world and they still couldn't pull off a million dollar wedding. For shame! Meredith--You got out just in time. I'm going to gush over Matt now. Oh hell, I alreaday went through that phase. I must be getting old.

American Idol...Who?

2006-06-07T18:08:00.000-07:00

So my friend Debbie calls me up a few weeks ago. I haven't heard from her in awhile and we've been friends since far enough back in the gap to call it back in the gap. She says, "Girl, turn on American Idol." I flipped the TIvo to livetv and Prince was on. Is nothing sacred? My only comment is at least he stayed true to who he is. He finished the set, turned around and walked off the stage, without letting a single "Idol" sing with him or even hum along. That's so him. He hasn't changed since the last time I saw him. He never will and most would agree, he shouldn't.

SNL doesn't know how accurate they pegged him, but I do.

A Piece of Cake, by Cupcake Brown

2006-05-26T16:58:00.000-07:00

RUN out and buy this Sista's book. Not because she is a sista, but because it's a book worth reading. Then pass it on to anyone you know, especially our younger generation.

Cupcake had a hard life, but who hasn't? Thing is, she overcame. She found her mother's dead body when she was only 8 or 9, was sent to foster care and left to their abuses, ended up gang banging and using every drug imaginable and she made it out and all the way to her JD ( Lawyer). This book is about overcoming obstacles and I swear to you, if there was hope for that 8 year old child, there is hope for you too.

Will post more later...have to do the real gig now and get some work done.

You aren't Black enough unless you are Black like me.

2006-05-15T20:37:00.000-07:00

That was the actual conversation that I had recently on a new message board that I joined. The message board audience is Black folks. Not some, not most, but Black people. I say this because there was even a thread dedicated to whether or not Whites should be allowed to join. Welcome to America. You do it to us and sooner or later we will do it to you.

See, I don't subscribe to that philosophy. All the while I'm sitting back enjoying the Immigration debate, eating my popcorn watching the politicians dance, I'm thinking it's all about fear. White people are afraid of that crystal globe they live in, that most refuse to even acknowledge they live in, somehow tumbling to the ground and crashing into 1,000 shards of glass that cannot be pieced back together. It's a fear driven rebellion.The bottom line is that it's a mentality of " I don't want you to come in here and replace me or treat me as I have blindly or not treated other people in the past".

This issue always comes up when conversations of Reparations come up. No one wants to cough up an extra 10 cents on their tax dollar to live up to a promise made to the descendants of slaves. The stand by is "Well, my grandparents didn't own slaves," or "But, my ancestors immigrated here. They weren't a part of that." It's funny because everyone jumps up and down proudly to say their ancestors fought in the Civil War--or any other--but they refuse to take responsibility for the fall out. A fall out that they actively play a role in through White privilege. Yep, another topic that I'm too tired to explain. The bottom line is that though you may not call someone the Nword, you may not tell someone they cannot have a job because of the color of their skin, you may even be a card carrying member of the NAACP ( but, I doubt it) but everyday you participate and accept the benefits of White privilege. You cannot help it...or can you?

The truth is that you can, if you will walk away from avoiding White guilt, step away from the will to use the term Race Card and examine the concept. There is a great piece that I've often shared on Message Boards by joan olsson called "Detour Spotting, for the anti-racist". I'm telling you, I love this piece. Read it here:

joan doesn't spell her names in capitals because she's a fem and saying something to the establishment. Anyway, read it and see if you can't spot just about every White person that claimed they were color blind. It floored me because they were all accounted for in her account.

So back to the story at hand...on White websites, I'm the Angry Black woman, a myth I've already debunked. On this website, I'm labeled a White sympathizer. How twisted is that bullshit? All the while I'm in agreement and sharing my thoughts, respectfully, I get called names regularly and have one particular fleck of dust on my jacket that doesn't know his/her own hypocrisy from their stank breath. It's ridiculous actually, yet I keep going back for more. LMAO! I think it's hilarious and sad in the same breath.

Most of the people on this site are of the consensus that ALL Whites are evil. While I will admit that even I consider most White people to be oblivious to their own White privilege and their own ignorance regarding race, evil? Nope. Wouldn't be me painting a picture of everyone with that same broad stroke. For the simple reason that I wouldn't want it done to me. I don't subscribe to the "You aren't Black enough unless you are Black like me mentality." I think that creates a bunch of wackos singing the same tune with little understanding of the lyrics. I don't play it on the White side, so why would I play it on the Black side? I wouldn't. I don't play elementary school yard games. I don't give a damn if I'm picked last for Red Rover. I am intelligent enough to make a game of my own and I can play all by myself. Happily! At least I know I make sense to me.

Ain't I a woman?

2006-04-07T20:12:00.000-07:00

Well, I could have asked it any number of ways. I could have given it over to Sojourner, but, well, that's not who *I* am, that's who she was. I can say "Am I not a woman". Her life made that possible. Some get it, some don't. I don't have the patience to explain today.

I'm in full on writing mode. A little of this, a little of that and a whole lotta something. I'm flying on the cusp of the break out and just dotting those I's and crossing some T's.

I'm reading a few books this week. Groove by Bernice McFadden under the nic Geneva Holliday and If you come softly by Jacqueline Woodson. The latter is a book club selection that was chosen out of a debate about whether or not minorities can be racists from a message board I belong to. My opinion is simply no, they cannot, but that's another day. They can be ignorant, prejudiced and on a much smaller scale can even play a role IN racism, but they cannot be racists. Again, that's another post to explain and I'm just not in the mood to get into it. It's definitely not a topic that will get me into Real Simple, but you never know. That magazine doesn't really have Black women as a demographic and even with the small nods to diversity they use in articles about hair cuts and best friends, I just don't see their audience as having the stomach for the convo. I might be underestimating them, but I think the message boards are a microcausim of our society. A tiny little cross section of America. They weren't ready for it either. LOL!

So the books...I am having a hard time figuring out which one to concentrate on so I'm reading both at the same time."Softly" is a young reader book but it deals with Interracial love, young love rather and the many complex issues that accompany it. It was a light read to give some of the members of the board a glimpse into that reality. It wasn't my suggestion, nor my first choice, but it will definitely do. Within the first few pages, I'm already taken with the story. I will probably complete it tomorrow and then I will post more about it and Groove. Stay tuned.

The Angry Black woman: A Myth

2006-04-02T00:28:00.000-08:00

The Angry Black woman: A Myth
So I was just over running through the posts on the various boards and came across a post that read as follows:
Quote:
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I have been watching many of the reality shows and have realized many of the black women on the shows have anger issues. Now is this a truth or is this just the way they are portrayed? Please, I do not want this post to have any racial connotations at all. I truly want to understand and am asking out of compassion for all woman and our issues no matter what color.
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My first thought was that you don't ask a question about "Black" women, excluding all others and then qualify that by saying that you don't want it to have racial connotations, it absolutely does. However, the question remains and casting agents are looking for it...does the 'angry black woman' exist?

My first response is you damn right she does. As does they angry lesbian of any race, the angry white woman, the angry Jewish woman, the angry Italian woman and shall we not forget the Fiesty Hispanic woman. She exists because women are multi-faceted and entitled to their feelings, whether it be anger or joy or anything in between.

Is every Black woman more angry than any other woman? No, I don't think so. Do we, as Black women have cultural differences that people from other ethnicities mistake for constant anger? Without a doubt.

A few years ago there was a series of books called "Why Black men tend to shout". The premise was that cultural differences make Black men seem stereotypically more angry than any other, but in reality each person is quite individual and while speaking louder, being aware of racism and therefore sensitive to it and having it more identifiable to those that experience it more often is something that makes others believe that Blacks are just angry.

Are Gay people more sensitive to hearing slights that others perceive as just being inquisitive? If someone approaches a Lesbian or Gay man and says something like "Which one of you is the woman", it's something that has been discussed in their community. Joked about and sometimes the focus of anger at ignorance, and for this reason it doesn't come across as an honest question. It comes across as something that an ignorant, less tolerant person might say. It happens when people assume that Native Americans and the Irish are all drunks. That isn't a fact. Certainly not every Indian or Irishperson drinks at all. But people fall prey to stereotypes.

Black women, in my opinion, are the same as every other woman. We all have had our crosses to bear. We have shared most of those facing the oppression of ourselves and our sisters. The difference with Black women is that we have had to fight other stereotypes, prejudices and all out falsehoods more often for much longer than some of our peers in this country.

I believe the stereotype of the Angry Black woman came as a result of slavery. We don't commonly read about African women having a notorious anger streak. It's only in this country and others that have our same history that we find this belief. It begs the question: Where did it come from and who benefits from it?

When we ask that question, we have to go back to the origins of our country. We have to go back to a time when the wife of a plantation owner risked sharing her husband with a slave. She risked the value of her children being equated with the children of slaves and her husband. Distance had to be placed....and stereotypes ensued.

Back then, the African American woman was considered to be evil. No other word for it. A slave woman that practiced her own religion or exhibited any form of self preservation or risked her life to save her family would be labeled to keep her 'in her place' in respect to other women. Thus, a woman that went ballistic as her children were being ripped from her arms and sold to another family or whomever was the angry Black woman. Her emotions were not considered to be normal because by definition ( legal definition in this country and others) she was not even human. So how could whatever she was doing be considered normal?

Had White women of the time faced the same fears of having their families torn apart, we would have seen that women, regardless of ethinicity respond the same way when attacked or in fear of the safety of their young. I am certain that they would have been kicking and screaming to keep their family together. Then it could have been 'normal' and not just a behavior limited to Black women, the slave woman.

If we try to imagine how a woman might feel in the days and weeks after her child ( ren) were sold on an auction block out of her arms, we can imagine that she was resentful. We can assume this because we know that that African American women are the same as any other woman and that they are, indeed, human. Perhaps she was cruel to the mistress of the home, thinking that another mother would understand her pain and try to have prevented it. Perhaps she acted out in various ways to express her anger, holding back just enough to stay alive.

Now, fast forward 120 years. Aren't her children still at risk? There is a well known saying in the Black community that when a young man turns 18, he has two choices in life; jail or the military. While the opportunity has leveled out, the means to get that opportunity have not found complete and absolute equality among races.

We know that minorities are still the majority residents of impoverished neighborhoods. We know that the schools in these areas are sub par, for the most part with less access to technology, outdated materials and yes, even prejudice in the schools.

Now, there are hundreds of thousands of teachers that work in these schools because they want to see all children have opportunity and they truly want to see all of them succeed, but we cannot forget that prejudice exists everywhere and in all. For that reason, we also have to consider that some teachers and other figures of authority do not want all people to be considered equal. Even those that do would shake at the prospect of their son or daughter coming home with a mate of another race. It wasn't that long ago that these matings were illegal in this country, only 3 years before my birth.

There are also still natural predators. Oh, I know some might scoff at the mere mention of racism in the police force, but statistics are against them. National polls show that racial profiling is not on the decline. Young Blacks get a record number of non-moving violations compared to their white peers. What this means is that they are being stopped by the police until a crime is discovered, not because one has occured.

For this reason, every Black mother I have ever met has to give her children an additional set of rules, this on top of what every mother teaches their child. These rules are how to behave when stopped by a police officer to avoid being mistaken for someone else or killed. This is when a Black mother must teach her child to work hard, as every mother does, but the disclaimer is that she tells her children they must work twice as hard, for twice as long to get half as far, as this is still the society they live in. She makes sure they know that they will live under a microscope. The things they do wrong will be attached to their entire race.

This is exemplified by looking at the worst of the worst in our society, murderers. When Jeffrey Dahmer was convicted of cannibalism, murder, kidnapping, sodomy, rape and a host of other crimes, never was he linked to ALL White men. Never did people shy away from ALL white men because of this one man's actions. On the flip side, when a Black person commits a crime, it is seen as a reflection on the ENTIRE population of Blacks.

When someone crosses the street when they see a Black teenager approaching, they aren't doing so because they fear THAT individual, but because they fear the stereotype linked to that entire group of people.

Another comparison can be seen in the Mother killers, which have been overwhelming White. Susan Smith and Andrea Yates were never seen a a reflection of all White mothers. They were seen as anomalies, crazies that were a departure from the norm. On a smaller scale, one looks at Omarosa from Survivor and Coral from Real World and they are free to link their behavior to all Black women and label them the "Angry Black Woman.

While Black women do on a large scale carry what I consider to be a heavy load with the responsibility for their children and themselves, White women carry the same load. The only difference is the fear from prejudice. Any woman with any shred of tact and decency does not go off on a stranger for no reason. There is no study to say that any one ethnic group of women does this more than another. With reality tv, we have to understand that this is for entertainment and is exploitive to all women to label them this way.

Omarosa was not cast just because she was qualified for the show, but also because she was a Black woman and also because she had a propensity towards exhibited confrontation. Many of these reality tv shows use the Myers Briggs test and other psychological evaluation to cast their shows. In doing this, it is easy to find polar opposites and place them together in circumstances that are bound to erupt. It is purposeful and it is targeted and it is something that all of us should say NO! to.

When we see a tv show that depicts a stereotypical Gay man exhibiting all of the negative and false behaviors linked to them through ignorance, we have to ask ourselves if that is truly that person or if the Executive Producer is trying to spark up their ratings. We have to ask ourselves if we would respond the same way in that circumstance. We have to ask ourselves if we are being manipulated into believing false stereotypes and sometimes, we have to turn off the television and stop supporting the exploitation of our fellow man/woman.

Just another long thought from Dyna....

Who's to say if someone is Black or White or PURPLE??

2006-04-02T00:26:00.000-08:00

Who's to say if someone is Black or White or PURPLE??
There is a woman on a show that I watch that is Biracial. A trip to the message boards about the show reveals how much hatred and bigotry is still running rampant in this country. One of the topics led me to ponder how Biracial Americans view themselves and define their cultural identity.

The first issue that focused on her was the question of "What is she"? I think the posters are looking for her racial identity. WHen I hear this, I'm divided on the subject. My first instinct is to think we should live in a world where it doesn't matter. But, I know that it does. Then I wonder if people mean, is she black or white. Well, she is both.

Regardless of how she identifies herself, she is Biracial, part White and part African American. I don't even like saying that because both of those halves are made up of likely many ethnicities. She could be a bit Greek and a bit German or some Irish or some Native American. We are more than those labels.

It seems that there is some truth to the thought that Biracial people walk a thin line between both Blacks and Whites, but I think they fit in both and on their own as multiracial people. Whereas, I have witnessed for myself the pressure that African Americans place on Biracial people to identify themselves as being African American, I rarely have seen Whites look at someone like Halle Berry and ask, "Why doesn't she say she is White"?

However, when Mariah Carey came out with her first record, most African Americans ( as written in articles and discussed widely after an appearance on the SOul Train Music awards) knew that she was at least part African American and thought she was distancing herself by not saying that she was Black. Was she? Shouldn't she be able to be Biracial and call it a day?

The One drop rule in this country says that she cannot. With one drop of African American blood in her veins, she is Black. What I don't understand is why the reverse isn't true. If someone has one drop of White Blood in them, why aren't they to be considered White?

Just things that make me go hmmmmmmm....

Read Child of God, by Lolita Files

2006-04-02T00:25:00.000-08:00

I just finished reading Child of God, by Lolita Files and it was a great read. It kept me turning pages deep into the night until I had completed it in its entirity. I really enjoyed the flow of the book. I just cannot believe it took me this long to hear about this writer. This is her 5th or 6th book. Previous works include, 'Tastes like Chicken',

I do not think that anyone but Shakespeare could pull off a story with this much of the drama; incest, rape, murder, abuse, homosexuality, and intrigue, but Ms. Files gives it a try with this tale. It was seamless. Relative to Shakespeare, there is more than just a bit of similarity. Files even throws in a Hamlet and an Ophelia for effect.

The cast of characters in the Boten family is a bunch of mixed nuts. There is the crazy aunt from Louisiana, of course--aren't we all Voodoo princesses with snakes on our necks!-- that casts spells and curses on members of the family. There is a brother and sister that don't seem to know wrong from right and it almost hurts you to want to tell them the truth because Files has made them so endearing to the reader. There is pain and there is tragedy, but I think you leave the tale more compassionate than when you started. One can never just look at a person and know their story. If you look to deeply, you might be surprised by what you find.

Debating about starting the Sister Souljah book, 'The Coldest Winter Ever', tonight. I have never read any of her books, but I did catch a clip of Jada Pinkett Smith recommending this particular novel. Now, the Sister Souljah I remember was a militant from the late 80's that was a frequent Geraldo guest on the shows with the Klan. You remember, when the chairs would get tossed across the room Pre-Springer. I don't actually recall if she was in anyone of those battles, but it was the era just the same. Talk show hosts were never able to wrap their mouths around her name and purposefully/mistakenly called her "Sista Soldier".

Now she did fit the description if I recall. I don't remember everything about her, but I do remember boots and leather. I think I was sportin' biker shorts and neon sweaters at the time, though. It was "Ain't too proud to beg" in those days...but believe me, I was far too proud. Still am. What I do remember is that she had the most perfect set of lips I had ever seen. They were full and round, pouty and proud at the same time. Hmm, was that when we lined our lips with black liner??? Did she ever do that? Uggh, did I?

Her topics back then centered on Black empowerment and I wasn't really ready to hear all that. I spent my youth listening to my father's lectures. I knew all I needed to know about Black empowerment...or so I thought until I took my first Black History course in college, back in 1992. When I got my first essay back, I remember being so pissed at myself and the instructor. How does a Black woman get a B on an essay on the Civil Rights movement? I still think he was just pissed because I was down on the people that led the movement, thinking they fell apart in the 80's and 90's. Alas, there was Sister Souljah, bringing it back to the forefront.

I wasn't listening though. What I was listening to was Prince, because I lived somewhere between Paisley Park and Glam Slam back then, rarely seeing my own apartment. I used to bring my clothes for the club to work with me and dress in the bathroom after my shift at the Record Shop and do my make up on the way to the club. Always arriving fashionably late, but fashionable just the same. I would stay out until the club closed, head to Paisley for the after party and make it home when the sun came up, just in time to catch a cat nap before I had to be at the Jewelry store, or shoe store or card shop...whichever it was that was filling the time until I went back to the Record Shop.

I was still coming down from the California move with my girls where we were just into peace, love and happiness. This story will have to wait for the memoir, which is nearly completed. All this is reminding me of the sounds of the day, though.

Music to drive across the country to:
1) Sisters of Mercy-This Corrosion
2) Violent Femmes-Blister in the Sun
3) Bob Marley-All of the Legend album
4) The Doors-Entire collection, especially Break On thru which is what was playing when we arrived in L.A.
5) De La Soul- Me, Myself and I
6) Maxi Priest- Close to you ( OOOH how I loved that man-wonder what he looks like today)
7) Wilson Philips/EnVouge- Hold On ( completely different songs)
8) Pop will eat itself and S'Express from the Club mixes
9) The Cure- Entire collection
10) Prince- Entire collection

Ahh, the days of wild!

Blue Contacts

2006-04-02T00:19:00.000-08:00

Some essential truths; women like to look good. Women like to try new things. Women like accessories. I’m a typical woman and I like looking good, trying new things and I love accessories. If it hits the cover of a magazine, and I find it appealing and fitting for me, I’m going to run out to eBay ( because I’m cost conscious) and find it. There is one thing that has alluded me since I was a Tween though; colored contacts.

When I was in my early 20s, everyone had a pair. I used to hang out in the clubs and we did trends. It was important to have style, your own style and to look FABULOUS! Part of that fabulous at the time was having colored contacts. Everyone did it. Celebs, Moms and Pops, and the girls in the clubs had a set for every day of the week. Hazel, Blue, Green, Brown, dark brown, we changed our allure with the wink of an eye.

But there was on thing holding me back then, money. I didn’t have a lot of it and what I did have was spent on buying new outfits to wear to the club each night. Mind you, there was rent to be paid, but lucky me, my parents helped out a lot. I was in school and I was spoiled as all hell so the rent got paid…most of the time anyway.

Fast forward 15 years, I’m 35 years old and people are still wearing colored contacts. They’ve expanded the line and you can have purple eyes if you want. You can buy the cat’s eye that Michael Jackson wore in the Thriller video. No one is going to speak to you, but you can buy them at will. However, I can’t and the reason is complex and maybe even self imposed.

You see, I’m a black woman. I’m a Black woman married to a White man. There are enough connotations to that and I deal with enough judgements and stereotypes that I don’t often just walk right into one only to be peeled apart layer for layer because of it and just the act of buying a set of colored contacts would do that.

I fear the reaction from Sistas, to be honest with you. Because of my skin tone, the accent I have ( that it totally a product of my education and environment in a Midwestern state and has little or nothing to do with ethnicity), and the fact that I’m in an interracial marriage, I think the appearance of colored contacts would look as if I’m trading in my blackness. Sounds like a lot for a colored contact to do, but it’s how I feel.

We all judge each other. We can pretend to be perfect and pretend that we actually measure people by the content of their character, but the truth is that you do look at people and your brain—whether you are party to it or not—does make decisions for you based on how people look. You can look at someone and your instinct will tell you whether or not you should trust them let alone speak to them. Your instinct is set into motion by your brain sizing up that person’s appearance.

I admit that when I see Tyra Banks, who I adore, with her blonde weave and colored contacts, I tsk and bristle at the root behind that look. Tyra has admitted that to be successful in her industry, many times she had to appeal to White/Majority senses. The Blonde haired, blue eyed, well shaped woman is at the top of the visual appeal totem pole for all intents and purposes. We can dismiss that all we want, but magazine sales and box office returns tell us differently. Blondes have more fun, they say. Ditsy or not, Pamela Anderson, Marilyn Monroe and all the other “bombshells” appealed to America’s ideal of beauty.

It’s not my ideal. I happen to find beauty in every woman. I think hips add character. I think a roll or two after childbirth is a battle wound that I’m proud to have. It gives you membership to a club of millions to not fit into a size 2 and the size 14s on the other side are very welcoming. But make no mistake, there is a standard and it’s not typically ethnic and it’s not typically any dress size in double digits.

So already, I’m against the grain of the Majority beauty standards. Where I do fit is within my own community. Being overweight isn’t a cause for ridicule. Well, it is and we tease each other plenty, but that’s in the family jokes. In the Black community, it’s well known and well documented that our teens don’t face the same issues of appearance that White/Majority teens experience. We don’t have the same rates of eating disorders. Where I see my overweight Caucasian friends fearing they will never find a life partner because of their size, my Sistas don’t feel that weight will prevent them from finding love. For them, it’s that someone will love ALL of them, including the rolls and cellulite, which by the way I’m not sure if that’s a problem for most of us or if that’s just a White thang. For the same reason that little moles on your face as you age isn’t a problem for Whites as it is for Black women, there are some differences in our ethnic make up.

But back to the original issue…from the time I was a child up to today, I’ve felt very much as if I was straddling two different worlds, one black and one white. Certain attributes of mine put me apart from both worlds. My interests, my diction, my culture and most importantly my choices in mate are all viewed and judged by both worlds. If I were to run out and get Blue contacts, I think my sistas would view me as a Black woman that doesn’t want to be black. Maybe if I went natural with my hair I could make the contacts work.

All of this is far too much thinking about what others think and as Oscar Wilde once wrote, “You’ll think a lot less of what people think of you when you realize how seldom they do”. The truth is that people might not even notice the change in my eye color and others simply won’t care. It’s not them I’m worried about because as grown as I am and as self assured as I am, I want to be accepted and I want to be liked. I admit it.

I don’t want to put distance between myself and my Sistas because we are one and we are far more united than what I see amongst Majority women. When we show up in a meeting at work and there is another Sista there, there is a nod (The Nod, to be written about later, stay tuned) and a look that we give each other that says so many things but most importantly it says “Thank God you’re here. I know what you’ve been through to get here, girl. I got your back”. I don’t want to lose that from a first impression.

So to me, it’s about way more than just appearances. Putting on a set of contacts is something that makes me feel like I AM turning my back away from my culture and away from the perfection that God has already made and thus approved of. Who am I to mess with God?

The Eagle has landed.

2006-03-05T20:28:00.000-08:00

My heroes are Black women. It's very simple to me. My heroes are those whose story I can relate to and understand and feel in the depths of my soul. I've finally reached a stage where I'm no longer to speak my truth for fear of repercussions.

For the past 7 years, I've been a member of several online message board user groups. I've always been the lone African American woman or in a major minority where numbers are concerned, therefore, some of my views that would come as second nature to many that look and think like me, were foreign to others. They met my opinions with opposition and disdain.

I've been called names. I've been set up in elaborate hate scams meant to demoralize me and undermine my person. I've been villified, all because I enjoy speaking on topics of race and don't shy away from a debate about those issues.

An example, on one board that will remain without description, there are members that have specific health issues. In their regular postings, they often post on topics related to these issues and others that interest them specifically and on more personal levels. There are political activists that make no bones about sharing their opinions about the current state of American politics, yet when a subject even remotely mentions culture or race and I respond, I'm often labeled as "looking" for a fight or playing race cards and any number of things meant to stop me in my tracks from further inciting thought into their minds. Basically, it's perfectly fine for anyone BUT me to speak to topics that interest me that deal with race and ethnicity.

On these boards, we all focus on topics that interest us. What people fail to realize is that while their interest might be in politics or education and they are free to roam and post and discuss their opinions on those, for some reason, they don't extend that same kindness to me on topics of cultural issues. It stands to reason, if it is ok for you to discuss topics that you have knowledge of and that interest you, then its ok for me to do the same and these are the topics that interest me.

They use terms like White guilt and make it my fault they have it. I certainly don't intend for that to happen because as a goal, I want to bring cultures closer together. I want to remove barriers. The only way to do that is to acknowledge they exist and brick by brick, dismantle them.

I recently watched a televised service from T.D. Jakes, a pastor of a mega church. An African American pastor of a mega church. He was on mission in Africa and his words touched me so profoundly that they have changed the way I see myself and in turn how I react to people online.

His analogy was this...( a synopsis from Guitargirl_07)There was a baby eagle that hadn't learned to fly. It's mother had died before she could teach it. This baby eagle had stumbled out of it's nest and fell into a chicken coop. It started hanging around with all these chickens. It started acting like a chicken, walking like a chicken, and talking like a chicken. It thought it was a chicken...until one day. The wind started to blow and the eagle lifted it's wings and found it could fly! It soared a little way and then landed again. It looked up at the sky and then looked back at the chickens and said, "See ya!" That eagle learned that it wasn't a chicken. When it was hanging around the chickens, it looked funny..it moved funny..it felt out of place. It wasn't like the chickens. You've been walking with the chickens. You've been acting like the chickens. You've been talking like the chickens. The reason you don't fit in is because you ain't a chicken! You're an eagle! You were born to be different..you were born to soar!

These words touched me and made so much sense to me. I've been clucking my ass off and I'm done clucking, for I am not a chicken. I'm a eagle and I'm about to soar.

Am I not a woman?

2006-03-05T20:22:00.000-08:00

Today, I have created a new blog. This is the blog that I will use to expound on my political and cultural beliefs. This is my beef center, my center, period. This is my truth.

I love to talk and I love to debate. More than anything, I love reaching out to people, to feel connected. I'm like you. I want to be heard and to be spoken to. I want to be listend to and I want to learn to listen better.

My ideals are to live in a world that is NOT colorblind or gender neutral, but that is one of respect for our fellow citizens. One in which we can each one, teach one and lean on each other in times of need and celebrate in times that we should.

Many people will agree with my perspectives, but still more will not understand them. I'm ok with that.

Over the next few weeks, I will be adding more blog entries from other blogs and adding new ones daily to keep my mind clear and keep you abreast of my thoughts. I could say, "It's not as if anyone cares," but I believe there are people that do. I want to connect with those people.

Our world is in need of change and we are the music makers, my friends. We are the ones to bring about change. Let it begin with me, I say proudly and let it begin now.

On with the show.