The Art of Light

Leaving CC

2008-07-03T16:54:00.000-05:00

How do you leave love like that?

...you drag it out in a sonata with two other poets
...you wonder if is sonata is something like a sonnet
...you wait for the trip in a heavy blanket
...you share a poem in that very last circle... the very last
...you walk in the rain
...you don't go home, you go someplace else that doesn't make sense to you
...like new york, where people don't know they live on a island (how can you not know when you are surrounded by water?)
...you stay with friends, the wonderful purgatory between family and you
...you freak your friends out by touching them a little too much
...you race around town trying to find that journal nehessaiu had in workshop
...once you find it you buy it in bulk
...you miss the bus and read every signature in books of poetry
...yes you pack all of the books of poetry in your shoulder bag along with your journals a bottle of water and an apple from the cafeteria in greensburg
...you find poetry in the underground pigeons at port authority
...you arrive in Baltimore thirsty for that rootbeer you missed in greensburg with arisa
...you mouth the names of poets with whom you've fallen in love with each breath before you go to sleep

Brava!!!

2008-06-19T10:22:00.002-05:00

In my email today:

(What a fabulous way to hit 100 posts on this blog!)
----

Dear Friends:

I am one of the contributors to the anthology Be A Father to Your Child,
which focuses on encouraging healthy fatherhood development in the black
community. We felt it necessary to issue the following statement and petition in
response to the recent verdict in R. Kelly's child pornography trial.

Please read and, if you agree, sign and forward this to your networks.

Sincerely,
Jelani Cobb
*Statement of Black Men Against the Exploitation of Black Women*

Six years have gone by since we first heard the allegations that R. Kelly had filmed himself having sex with an underage girl. During that time we have seen the videotape being hawked on street corners in Black communities, as if the dehumanization of one of our own was not at stake. We have seen entertainers rally around him and watched his career reach new heights despite the grave possibility that he had molested and urinated on a 13-year old girl. We saw African Americans purchase millions of his records despite the long history of such charges swirling around the singer. Worst of all, we have witnessed the sad vision of Black people cheering his acquittal with a fervor usually reserved for community heroes and shaken our heads at the stunning lack of outrage over the verdict in the broader Black community.

Over these years, justice has been delayed and it has been denied. Perhaps a jury can accept R. Kelly's absurd defense and find "reasonable doubt" despite the fact that the film was shot in his home and featured a man who was identical to him. Perhaps they doubted that the young woman in the courtroom was, in fact, the same person featured in the ten year old video. But there is no doubt about this: some young Black woman was filmed being degraded and exploited by a much older Black man, some daughter of our community was left unprotected, and somewhere another Black woman is being molested, abused or raped and our callous handling of this case will make it that much more difficult for her to come forward and be believed. And each of us is responsible for it.

We have proudly seen the community take to the streets in defense of Black men who have been the victims of police violence or racist attacks, but that righteous outrage only highlights the silence surrounding this verdict.

We believe that our judgment has been clouded by celebrity-worship; we believe that we are a community in crisis and that our addiction to sexism has reached such an extreme that many of us cannot even recognize child molestation when we see it.

We recognize the absolute necessity for Black men to speak in a single, unified voice and state something that should be absolutely obvious: that the women of our community are full human beings, that we cannot and will not tolerate the poisonous hatred of women that has already damaged our families, relationships and culture.

We believe that our daughters are precious and they deserve our protection. We believe that Black men must take responsibility for our contributions to this terrible state of affairs and make an effort to change our lives and our communities.

This is about more than R. Kelly's claims to innocence. *It is about our survival as a community*. Until we believe that our daughters, sisters, mothers, wives and friends are worthy of justice, until we believe that rape, domestic violence and the casual sexism that permeates our culture are absolutely unacceptable, until we recognize that the first priority of any community is the protection of its young, we will remain in this tragic dead-end.

We ask that you:

o Sign your name if you are a Black male who supports this statement:

http://www.petitiononline.com/rkelly/petition.html

o Forward this statement to your entire network and ask other Black males to sign as well

o Make a personal pledge to never support R. Kelly again in any form or fashion, unless he publicly apologizes for his behavior and gets help for his long-standing sexual conduct, in his private life and in his music

o Make a commitment in your own life to never to hit, beat, molest, rape, or exploit Black females in any way and, if you have, to take ownership for your behavior, seek emotional and spiritual help, and, over time, become a voice against all forms of Black female exploitation

o Challenge other Black males, no matter their age, class or educational background, or status in life, if they engage in behavior and language that is exploitative and or disrespectful to Black females in any way. If you say nothing, you become just as guilty.

o Learn to listen to the voices, concerns, needs, criticisms, and challenges of Black females, because they are our equals, and because in listening we will learn a new and different kind of Black manhood

We support the work of scholars, activists and organizations that are helping to redefine Black manhood in healthy ways. Additional resources are listed below.

Books:
Who's Gonna Take the Weight, Kevin Powell
New Black Man, Mark Anthony Neal
Deals with the Devil and Other Reasons to Riot, Pearl Cleage
Traps: African American Men on Gender and Sexuality, Rudolph Byrd and Beverly Guy-Sheftall

Films:
I Am A Man: Black Masculinity in America, by Byron Hurt
Hip Hop: Beyond Beats and Rhymes, by Byron Hurt
NO! The Rape Documentary, by Aishah Simmons

Organizations
The 2025 Campaign: www.2025bmb.org
Men Stopping Violence: www.menstoppingviolence.org

Michelle Obama

2008-06-13T11:20:00.000-05:00

Yess!!!!

Michelle Obama Watch

Nee-poo

2008-06-12T21:42:00.007-05:00

No I'm not running out of content. I was simply instructed to write about about this so I am.

Plus...

I really do love my cat. A lot.

Her name is Nia (NEE-ya). She will be three in July. She is something like a silver gray tabby, but she's a little more brown than that and has some spots instead of stripes. She was one white paw, and has pretty big ears. I've been trying to mythologize who her ancestors were and we both agree she is egyptian.

She has an affinity for expensive bags and scarves and likes to lay on them. She turns up her nose on regular cat food and demands organic (its my fault, i raised her this way). She likes to try to help me clean up by sweeping with her paw when i drop something on the floor.

She talks to birds in the window by making a sound like a chirp.

She's super affectionate, and often goes to sleep on my tummy.

If she thinks I am oversleeping, she will wake me up by making a whole lot of racket on the otherside of my bedroom door.

...yeah she can't sleep in bed with me at night because she's a shed monster.

She's really talkative this time of year. (In true cancerian form she's moody... or maybe its cuz she's a cat... whatever) Since I tend to have more guests in the summer she loves to love on them. She easily gets overstimulated and cant handle too many people at once. She gets super excited and plays rough at that point.

She likes to have full on conversations with my mother who calls her Nia-poo or Nee-poo depending on how many syllabus she feels like saying at the moment.

...yes that is her on the big momma chair in the post on storms. Yes, she is in my avatar image as well. (I was sooo seiss when I saw that they had a cat with Nia's coloring as an option.)

You can email her at niapoo [-at-] gmail [-dot-] com.

Yes. I am a black woman. And I LOVE my pet. I love my pet CAT for that matter.

Its always been a thing for Black people to talk about how much we don't really care for animals all that much. Thats not very afro-centric to me. Not to mention this idea that we don't like untamed nature. (Forests and fields and such.)

Now I'm a little prissy. I give you that. But I'm not animal hater, nor am I someone who can't take a hike or pee in the bushes without freaking out. I guess it is the little bit of cuntry in me, but I also think its ludicrous to assume black people cannot connect to the world without an apparatus of some kind.

What we don't do is choose animals over human brothers and sisters when we have the opportunity (i.e. The Jena 6, Meagan WIlliams, New Jersey 4 vs. Mike Vick). The way white folks have clamored over Vick's treatment of animals, but could not get off of their asses on issues that affects the very lives of Black children... um yeah not the business. But let me be clear. Mike Vick was dead ass wrong. Dead. Ass. Wrong. He deserved a financial ass whoopin or maybe a night in jail, but white folks wanted him skinned and his flesh boiled for lye. Not my feeling at all.

However, there are some humans over whom I'd choose my cat any day. Bush is an example. On second thought... the list is quite long. I would write it here but that would just be distasteful.

Nia. At the time of this post.

Broken Foot

2008-06-08T01:30:00.006-05:00

A sister as a stress fracture in her left foot.

I've had this fracture for a few weeks now. Close to a month. And in true SWB fashion, I ignored it. Thought it was a little temporary pain like when one stubs ones toe. This stubbing involved a 60 lb bag, a cheap rolling contraption and a flight of stairs. BLAM!! On my wittle weft foot.

Last monday I went to the doctor to ask what was going on with this foot. It seemed like there was a bone that wouldn't pop into place. She told me about myself, and the cheap old navy flip flops I was wearing.

I am now dealing with the pain no doubt exacerbated by ignoring it. I have a little bandage and a little limp and a lot of fucking nerve because I still want to walk to work and such.

I thought I'd gotten past this...

Ohmigod

2008-06-08T00:17:00.005-05:00

Blindness will be a movie.

I have to contain myself for a few reasons:

1. I love the book which... by the way... I can't find it. Note to self.. never offer anyone your book to borrow.

2. It is directed by Fernando Meirelles (City of God, the Constant Gardener etc.)

3. There is a woman president (played by Sandra Oh).

4. When movies attempt to figure what a future leader will look like it is always a little interesting. Especially with the presidential candidates being Obama and McCaine it will be interesting how the "white sickness" will be read. I read this book with a group a black women (at Spelman) and we all immediately saw race in this idea of the white sickness. How could we not? Think Moby Dick, Fight Club issues of whiteness. Morgan Freeman is in this film as well. Yeah... the sole negro. You see it? Or don't you?

How exciting!!!!

I'm a lil apprehensive because:

1. It is not set in Portugal as originally intended.

2. The reviews are somewhat iffy.

3. The trailer looks like it will live up to the reviews.

Take a look for yourselves:

Insomnia.

2008-06-04T01:19:00.008-05:00

I cannot sleep. Maybe it is because I have had trouble sleeping for quite some time now. Maybe it is an early onset of insomnia caused by stress, and fears, although I am on vacation. (Thats when it strikes most horribly eh?)

Maybe I am excited/worried/confused about tonight's (last nights no?) breaking news. Obama has won the candidacy.

I watched the speech. I watched him wax poetic about his grandmother, about Hillary Clinton, about John McCain. Then I saw him go on about his stances that are much aligned with mine: healthcare, new energy, the war on Iraq. There were moments when I cried because the speech writers intended it that way. By the end I was sobbing, and it had nothing to do with speech writers.

As the commentators began their blustering dialogues (This is all one can do after Obama's speeches. They are impeccable, and he has drawn from an oratory tradition made to make souls weep and chakras spin.) I watched him.

More accurately, I watched Michelle. I watched her get on stage. I watched her wave to the crowd. I watched her say "I love you" in Obama's year.

I watched him look down and away. He waves, she waves. I watched him turn to her, look her in the eyes, and say "thank you..." and something else hidden by her cheek. I imagine its something tender and moving.

I watched him say "Let's go."

I saw her being helped by him down the stage. A white man with a heavy build holds her hand. I noticed the shiny black belt cinching her tiny waist.

I watched her like this because on my heart was Cynthia McKinney, and a host of other Black women.

In my ear was the voice of my mother, urging me like she's never urged me to do anything in my life, to vote for this man.

In the other ear were the voices of radical elders... urging with my own mind... the rightness of a third party. The importance of it.

A black woman is running for president, and another black woman is running for first lady.

I looked at both of them, I looked at him. And I cried. Mostly because I am confused. I want to believe everything he said. I want to believe that he will never again have to disavow another Black leader, although to disavow one's preacher is enough. He had to... he had to right? Right. I want to believe it all matters anyway.

I want to believe him because I know my vote will be in the right direction if I do not vote for him, but I know if anything is right in this world--he will win.

And I want to believe in him.

So I steadied my eyes on Michelle, and my heart on Cynthia. And the past two years became vivid: Dunbar Village, The New Jersey Four, Megan Williams, Tynehsa Stewart, The Duke Rape Case, The Rutgers Basketball team.

My own black girl/woman self.

Something's gotta move.

Some woman, some black woman, will be in the white house.

And if worth her salt, she will be unable to sleep too.

No Knock and the use of my anger.

2008-06-02T21:54:00.001-05:00

June 2, 2008,

I�m angry. If this blog could be my voice right now it would be screaming. Long howls. Long and hard and at the end of them would be tears. Sobs. Anger and not knowing what to do, anger and not knowing what to do. Anger. Not knowing what to do.

We live in a police state. We live in a racist, classist police state that wishes to terrorize people of color and the poor.

This is what happened.

The police broke into my aunt�s house. In fact they broke into almost every house on her street in Baltimore. They broke into my aunt�s house. My mother�s sister�s house. My cousins, my little cousins (who are much taller than me but I am older so they are little to me) live there. One of them is only a pre-teen has been sleeping in her mother�s bed since.

They broke the door down. (No-Knock, no doubt�) Went through her things, her food, took her laptop (which she uses for work). Took the computers that belonged to everyone on the block. Found no drugs, no dead bodies, none of the nonsense their bogus warrants promised them they would.

They disrespected her home. Put my cousin in handcuffs, took him away in their car. Took his friend, who has become, in some ways a member of the family and holding him on bogus charges.

I must reiterate their warrants were also bogus. My aunt works with youth. These police knocked down doors up and down this residential street, breaking children's beds, breaking to shambles, people's front doors. Humiliating them. Terrorizing the children. No probable cause. None. Less a crooked cop covering real offenders and terrorizing innocent citizens.

I cant say anything more but to retell the story. I have no words, just anger. I need to read Audre Lorde�s "Uses of Anger." I can�t, my eyes wont hold straight� long enough� I can�t sleep tonight.

I can�t. Just one long howl in my spirit. My hands shake from anger.

So I give you Gill Scott:

It began with a clap

2008-05-31T15:41:00.004-05:00

Today, a beautiful torrential rainstorm showed herself to me and all of the DC Metro area.

I hadn't gotten one since my life in Atlanta. I hadn't realized how much I missed them. How the energy is all woman, all powerful, all awe inspiring.

She began with a clap.

As if to say, "Sister, you have been in the house all day for three days. Have not enjoyed the hot weather you've prayed for. The sun on your face and back. You have not sat to witness the beauty of a day." My living room darkened.

So I stopped.

I stopped from my cleaning and CD playing. I turned everything down. Put the screensaver on the laptop (which happens to be a storm simulation) and sat in the big momma chair by the window to witness.

Would you think I am odd if I could sense the whole weight of her body moving across the sky?

It was at her belly at which I realized the storm was passing. As Nia hopped onto mine, I thanked her (the storm that is). Breathed deeply and watched my living room illuminate.

The thing about torrential rainstorms is that you *know* they will pass. You can hear it, feel it. The violence of them, the unpredictability.

Now I'm no priestess of any spiritual system, but I wanted to give her a name. I know in If� there is Oya, who is known for her unpredictability, change, but in winds. Her husband Shango is known for lightening, thunder and the like...

Yaweh, Jehova, too masculinized, to general for the very specific-ness of this storm's presence.

Again... I'm no priestess, but this storm was a sista. And it has nothing to do with the unpredictability of a woman. There was a way in which we communed which was much like the way I talk with many women. Especially ones a little older than me--very real, but deep in reverence.

When she clapped it was very much the way I hear my mother's voice call before she has uttered anything. I knew she was here before she came. And I knew she had a bone to pick... with me.

I'm learning to listen. Before the clap.

Hallelujah!!!!!!!!!

2008-05-30T21:30:00.001-05:00

**jumps up and down, waves her little hand***

THANK YAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!

Mind the Black Girl.

2008-05-21T09:25:00.004-05:00

I'm loosing you... I know it.

If my technorati rating means anything. What little readership I have, has shrunk dramatically. (I like to think those who stay, those who come and go, those who are here, are quality. Thank you.)

This period of relative silence (with the occasional outburst of intellectual epiphanettes) has been one of deep introspection for this black girl in real life and on the web.

As I think about who I am, what I am doing in this world, what I am doing as an artist, and what the HELL I am doing in a doctoral program--I am also thinking about what it means to be a black girl and be visible. To be a black girl and have a place on which to stand, and where to stand too.

What would it mean then, when faced with a microphone, an open space to speak, for me to give the world what is in my head? Its not pretty. To sit in the subconscious of this somewhat awkward black girl is not exactly the most safe place to be (especially for me).

What would you find? Fears, tons of them. Fears of inadequacy, fear of not being black enough, not woman enough, certainly not beautiful enough, not Spelmanwoman enough, not middle class black woman enough, not not wealthy black woman enough, not smart enough, not healthy enough, not thin enough, not spiritual enough, not this coast enough, not american enough, not that cost enough, not enough for any nation, not wealthy, shame, shame, not worthy, not worthy, not worthy.

on the other hand:

Insightful epiphanies about identity, trauma, self awareness. Moments of overwhelming feelings of love for humanity and the universe. Dreams, poems, songs.

What then would you find if I just let you sit with me through the course of a day? A messy apartment that I am ashamed of. Audible outbursts of self pity and self hate. Looking away from mirrors. Tears, tears, dirty laundry.

on the other hand:

Spending long moments in the mirror admiring myself. Long bonding moments with my cat. Dancing to good music, and very very loud singing. Sudden moments of creative clarity. The manifestations: poetry, music, painting.

Do you need to know all of these things? Maybe.

I think the mind of a black girl (which I will call myself as long as i can while taking myself seriously) is something that has not been explored. I think there, lies what society has left us. What is there--lies the answers for large questions we've been waiting to have answered. I think what you'd see in the course of a day is what we do with it. It is all incredibly remarkable, brilliant, and sad.

But what will you do with that? Will that matter? WIll I just be speaking to other black girls with the same things and more in their heads. Would it matter even if we spoke this, loudly, to each other?

I think so.

And so...

I aint got NO excuse.

2008-05-19T18:06:00.000-05:00

Spring is here...

2008-05-15T12:34:00.003-05:00

So, while studying today I got a link in my CSS feed of a giant centipede eating a mouse. I read a lot of the comments and really got interested in this question of what is "natural." Some folks were upset because this invertebrate was eating a vertebrate, others because the mouse had no capabilities for escaping this seemingly painful death. On the other hand, monstrous centipedes are predators.

Then there was a whole argument about a human *wanting* so see this. Whether or not that person is normal.

I couldn't find myself on either side. A non-political vegetarian, who eats fish in abundance--I definately have *some* feelings about animal cruelty (i.e. feed your pets, don't wear furry things, don't beat your dogs). But I have never totally committed myself to a non-cruelty mission because I really haven't figured out what that means. I come from a family of hunters and fishers. I've seen animals (mostly fish) go from breathing to frying and had little problems eating them. On one occasion where I did catch a few fish, I felt so guilty about it--but mostly because I was a strict vegetarian then (so what was the point?). And furry coats vs. a nice pair of leather boots.

No, I haven't gotten my consciousness together about this quite yet.

But I'm wearing yellow today and the sun is shining. And sometimes what is right is what makes me feel good. So Darwin or PETA aside, helping baby turtles who usually have a less than 1% chance of living to adulthood get to the ocean... good. Sometimes little things need help.

Ego trip's Miss Rap Supreme

2008-05-03T02:58:00.005-05:00

Ok. ok. ok. I got three major issues with this show. They are as follows:

1. Why Khia why? AND you got disqualified for using material that was on your album and a free mixtape. This is the thing: I was mad confused when I found out you were on the show anyway. Many of these chicks were unheard of (well, I'd heard of one of them, but this is because I'm a big ol lesbian who occasionally finds herself listening to homohop). Khia... Khia... I don't want to blow you up too huge but "My Neck, My Back" went international and K-Wang is a club anthem. Why? You didn't need to be on this show--and the fact that you showed your ass by getting disqualified for simply reciting lyrics that you recorded twice is shameful. I'm not going so far to say that you're a one hit wonder blah blah blah like old girl did... thats not useful, and for me--being someone who lived in the South from 2002-2005, you aren't. But it does make you someone who has passed the mark for being on the show. Sorry you didn't come up when reality tv was making stars other than Kevin Powell and Puck. Being on one may have helped your fame but this is hip hop. It probably WOULD NOT HAVE. Just like it wont for the "femcee" who emerges from this competition.

You're better than that.

Do you, let the children do the reality shows. The whole title that you seem to be vying for is contrived and ridiculous. I'm mad at VH1 for letting the shit happen. You better have gotten paid. A lot.

In the meantime, I'm waiting for a response from Trina. And I think this is enough fodder for Jackie-O to come back to life.

2. The Ego Tripping fools are whack. Their concept of the "history of the female emcee" is a-historical, limited and skewed. Also, how much of it is this way because of VH1? The Salt and Pepper suite as sanctum while Queen Latifah is a Tavern, meanwhile Lauryn Hill is nowhere to be found and don't even get me started on Roxanne Shante (does she exist to these fools?)

Their understanding of the "state of the female emcee" was more condescending than understanding. While it did address how female emcees have to consider different aspects of the industry that make them commodities rather than artists, they failed to critique how Male emcees, and the industry foster that culture, and how they perpetuated it through these corny ass lines about the "state of the female emcee."

The fact that the show is paralleled in some ways to the white rapper show is also unnerving, and again reveals the a-historical approach these fools have to this question about female rappers. Women have ALWAYS been a part of hip hop, if we are talking about "minorities" and "representation" this is not about a kind of reverse affirmative action (i.e. ok womens we will let you into the game via reality tv show), this is about the ways in which male dominance permeates other aspects of Black culture.

Furthermore this whole thing with them "dressing as male rappers" to see if they can hang with the men... garbage.

Props to them setting up moments for the sisters to retort at Too $hort.

3. My questions about how they will not only address how male dominance is a part of all of this make me want to actually tune into VH1 even after Khia was eliminated. Not more, however, than this fear of the queer for the female emcee. Already there are some ways these women are being made to deal with that. They had to perform in a WHITE dyke bar. (I'm just going to leave that one alone and let you ruminate on that shit) But really, how are they going to discuss how the two clearly stud/butch/ag/dom emcees face a whole 'nother set of hurdles nothing short of not being white so that they may be featured ont he final season of the L Word, but that they are queer and how female emcees have had to hide and silence themselves in order to fit into the hetero paradigm of ass, titties, and sprite cans a la lil' kim.

Black Feminist Answers for "Ten Questions for Black Feminists Regarding the Lack of Public Discussion on the 2008 Democratic Primary Election"

2008-02-12T22:30:00.005-05:00

As an afternote these answers are response to questions posted here.

1. Why does it take Second Wave White Women Feminist to provoke Black Feminist to respond �publicly� to issues race and gender in the 2008 Presidential Election? This is not to say that black feminists or other feminist of color are not responding to the identity politics at play in the primary season outside of second wave white feminist responses. Furthermore, this is not to say that black feminist and other feminist of color are only responding to second wave white feminist critiques only. But, it seems as if the most vocal �public� outcry from feminist of color comes when second wave white feminist weigh in such as Gloria Steinem and Robin Morgan.

The caveats for this question seem to cancel out the question entirely, but I will answer it just the same. In understanding how racism works, how sexism works we have to continually question what prompts us to ask chicken and egg questions about Black feminism vs. white feminism. We also have to consider how Black feminists have always been in dialogue with politics, and weigh in continuously and presently. Who are these ubiquitous Black feminists who are being heard before or after white feminists weigh in? I've been in discussion with Black feminists, academic, public, and none of the above and we have continued to dialogue about these issues. Angela Davis, in a recent speech noted that she will be voting for Cynthia McKinney (she's running on the green party ticket). I see no better answer than that--its complex. It questions the two party system that for whatever reason, we seem to be complicit with, it challenges the ready made hierarchy of race and gender that Black women have historically challenged. Furthermore, it challenges yet another issue that neither Obama, nor Hillary seem to touch adequately-- the equal rights of gays and lesbians.

2. Why do black feminist �publicly� only focus on the privileges of Hillary Clinton�s white supremacist gendered identity and ignore the privileges of Barack Obama�s racialized gendered identity among black people and black womyn?

I need some references here. See answer above.

4. Why aren�t we willing to �publicly� critique how Barack Obama�s candidacy is framed in very heteronormative terms?
One of the main responses I�ve received from Black people when I�ve critiqued Obama�s candidacy is this idea of what Obama�s presidency will mean for �the black family.� And I will paraphrase a comment that was sent to me, �having Obama and his family in the White House will be good for black America because they are such a strong couple and it would be good to have such images for young black people to see.� For many black people, Obama exemplifies the image of a responsible, successful, professional, heterosexual black man who�s married to a strong, successful, and professional black woman who �both� are raising two black girls. This in of itself is not a bad image, however, it becomes problematic when black people consciously or unconsciously juxtapose it against how white society and black people view black families as inherently deviant�no fathers, out of wedlock children, teen mothers, emasculated black men, sexually deviant black womyn, sexually deviant black men, down-low brothers, dead-beat dads�it is something we as black feminist should dialogue about.
Short answer: Yes.

Long answer:

We can also talk about how Hilary's campaign is based in similar heteronormative terms and how neither candidate is willing to ally with gays and lesbians on un-equivocated rights. I think this is something we (Black feminists) have been dialoguing about. Especially those of us who are lesbians and want to adopt, who want to be married to partners, and who wrestle with a homophobic society and community. We also must complicate this issue of heteronormalcy by also being willing to recognize how heteronormalcy is actually a privilege that we as Black folks haven't had in larger society for the reasons outlined in the very question.

To invoke Dubois, blackness is a problem-- thats its very definition. And by that meaning, Black existence is continually discussed as a negative. Image these horrors: the Black family, black eating habits, black sexual habits, black aesthetics, black art, black butts... Consider an example, this line of questioning: Why aren't Black feminists doing ________? I am often skeptical of this consistent approach Black people have in addressing themselves and their community-- no matter the intent.

5 and 7 (they seem to be the same question). Why is it that some black feminist fleetingly mention how misogyny is at play in the competition, but who then will write and email long in-depth critiques in response to second wave white feminist charges against Obama�s candidacy?

Again--who are these Black feminists?

My Black feminist answer I align with Angela Davis: Vote Cynthia McKinney.

Furthermore, Black feminists have in large numbers decidedly backed Hillary... again I don't know whose these Black feminists are that are not having in-depth critiques.

6. Why do we pat ourselves and our colleagues on the back for critiquing second wave white feminist who we know lack an analysis of race? Outside of publicly showing how they lack an intersectional understanding of oppression, how than does it become more constructive? What comes after the critique?

Our profound ass analysis. I've never encountered Black feminist scholarship that did not build upon a deeper understanding of WOC, of Black women of intersectional (shiver) positionalities. That did not expand upon themes such as historical approaches to lived experiences of women (i.e. Barkley Brown's "What Has Happened Here") that introduce entire approaches to theory and analysis (i.e. intersectionality, standpoint) that uncover forgotten territories of research and approach that are helpful to many disciplines (i.e. Bobo's Black Women as Cultural Readers). My book case is what comes before and after the critique.

8. Why aren�t we �publicly� critiquing the racialized gendered sexualized class-based meanings behind the tee shirts, internet slogans, video, and blogs dedicated to Obama Mommas, Obama Girls, and Bro� (Obama) before Hoe�s (Clinton)?

http://www.cnn.com/video/?/video/politics/2008/01/26/whitfield.black.women.vote.cnn

Lets not also forget the essentialist drama over Obamas "blackness."

Or the fucked up narrative of Black buck and Black man hungry white women.

Let's talk about it all.

9. Why are some feminist of color saying that identity politics is overshadowing the real issues when the issues are definitely colored by the intersection of various social identities?

Who the fuck are these WOC? I'm glad I am not chilling with them.

10. Why is it when we ask these questions people assume we are white women and we are Hillary�s supporter?

Again, my vote: Cynthia McKinney.

My assumption: These are unfair questions that have assertions that don't really have historical footing, that are preemptive in assertions of a collective "Black feminist" consciousness.

The Beauty Battle Royal

2008-02-11T18:17:00.000-05:00

A black girl was chilling in contemplative hibernation, reevaluating the content of her blog (and by that I mean, not thinking about it at all) when she opens her email and finds a message from a mindful sister that gave her notice of some crazy ish on the internet that needed some vigilant lip pursing.

Okay out of third person.

This email I received made me aware of an online blog/mag named Jezebel with a centrally white readership that is asking for pictures of embarrassing hairstyles from Black women. (I�m not even going to the not-so-ironic-irony of the name of the magazine.) In light of a past two years of white-supremacist fetishization over Black women�s hair (i.e. Imus, Boortz) you�d think white folks would just pretend they don�t have an issue. Instead, the recent years has merely given permission for frank white-centered discussions about how different, crazy, wild, and wacky Black women look.

I�m actually not offended by the idea itself. We (women across the racial spectrum) all have embarrassing photos of our hair at one point or another�particularly if we�ve lived more than two decades. For example, I have a picture of an ear-to-ear bang via the 80s that is absolutely INSANE and in my teens I rocked a wave-nuveau which was inevitable for me in killer Kali. Sisters can crack up about it as much as I do (especially those who know what I wave nuveau is!). But in the real estate of thought its all about context, context, context. There is a way in which this racialized voyeurism (i.e. white chicks wanting to specifically look upon Black chicks) lends itself to a Beauty Battle Royal of sorts. A spectacle of excessive Blackness through black hair, that also is a reminder to Black women of the unattainability of Eurocentric beauty.

Look but don't look, they say. Don�t desire this thing, this thing is not yours.

The racial context of this contest raises an eyebrow, and rightfully so. I would like to see how this whole thing pans out�how far viewers comments go to dance around their horror, awe, and amazement of the gravitational defiance of Black women�s hair. Lets see how many or how few comments directly drop the p word (I don�t mean pussy.) to describe youthful female blackness. We�ll see if "nappy" even comes up, with arms folded, lips pursed, eyebrows raised.

We�re looking at them, looking at us. Defiantly.

And so the post blackness of my generation allows that much. Allows the chance for the white gaze to do its thing as it will (they will even look at us as we look at them). As we watch, analyze, and understand ourselves in the process. I�d hope we�d heal, as is the call for much of our "take the power back" discussions. Not through this kind of ish, but in spite of it. I cringe when "take the power back" means join them in their jeering and peering. It�s as sad as teased children making fun of themselves in the face of bullies. I�d hope that we�d heal not by joining them, but by putting the burden where it belongs, in the arms of white supremacy. By pointing to the irreverent and insensitive racism. By gazing back. Relentless, unforgiving gazing back. This has certainly been a process for me.

An un named uber leftist white woman with� matted hair tries to make comparisons to my locks and share "hair stories." I simply reply no, and look at her (as to not embarrass her in the professional setting we were in) so as to remind her that her hair is blond, long, and fine, and her eyes are blue. "We" have no shared hair stories this was not MLK�s dream.

I�m with a friend who has been invited to her neighbors� house. Her neighbors are a white lesbian couple who have recently adopted a black baby boy. They hem and haw around the issue that they don�t know what to do with his hair (acknowledges collective exasperated sigh from sisters everywhere). What they�ve told me is that they wash his hair every day and put tea tree oil in it. They still don�t know why his hair is dry. I give some basic pointers for the sake of the poor kid and hope the books we�ve given, along with the little djembe my friend has given him will give him some smoke signals early on.

(I�ll discuss the unhealthy black hair generation to be raised by "colorblind" gay white folk some other time.)

This is not to say that I cannot talk to white people about hair in general. This can happen (and it has with white folks who know that there are hair differences not only visually, but historically), what cannot happen is a conversation about hair that assumes a similar and parallel history when it comes to my embodiment as a Black woman. I cannot be the one to consistently educate white people on Black hair and the politics of it. Ignorance of some of these basics is merely evidence of white supremacist notions of racial and aesthetic normalcy that results in a "what�s the difference?" "black people are so sensitive" response to Don Imus or Neal Boortz� comments on Black hair that reveal a deeply historic and psychic fetish about Black hair.

The very moment calls for a direct and serious gaze back. To let folks know that they are looking, and looking as if difference merely belonged to us. To let them know that our sensitivity is rooted in a history that has maintained whiteness as normal and default. That we are gazing back not only to neutralize their gaze, not only to reveal to them their outright racism, but to access our embodied power, to challenge the fetish. To take off our blindfolds in this battle royal.

Ideas?

2007-12-18T00:58:00.000-05:00

I'm thinking of branching out in terms of my blogging. I would like to have a secondary blog in which I focus on one particular thing. I have a mental picture of what that would be, but I am not completely clear. Here are some of the things I've thought of.

1. A Blog about living life at the edge of gentrification in DC. (as in, I am a Black person who is in some ways a part of the gentrification process, but also not a part of it...)

2. A Blog about living in DC (generic, point me in a better direction please)

3. A Blog on my creative process

4. A Blog on fashion.

5. A Blog on self renewal (my current processes)... eh. nevermind too personal

Thats about it... if you have any more suggestions let me know. I'd like to focus this blog a little more. If I go on viewer responses alone, I tend to get more comments on the psycho-social rants about my inner life and the politics of it... which I respect, but can be a little draining. In either case, maybe I should focus one blog... here there or anywhere on that subject alone too.

Hmm... maybe I'm on to something.

Mac and Cheese

2007-12-10T21:49:00.001-05:00

I just made the richest (and most expensive) mac and cheese ever. I had this old expensive cheese in my fridge from once upon a time when i had money and decided that there are only so many melba toasts and cranberry chutney for me to try to eat it all so I put much of it in a mac and cheese. (I still have some left... insane eh?)

Well it's delicious... but too delicious... rich. My head hurts now... I'm sure I can't even smell it now or I will faint.

I'm sure this is a metaphor for something life or love or something. Something rich and wonderful and sickening at the same time.

Truth is. Mac and cheese is best with some extra sharp cracker barrel, and at the most some asagio. Do we really need brie and a 10 dollar per ounce soft cheese that will remain nameless? No. Some things call for simplicity. Pairing down...

Just $3 a brick. At most.

Jervae

2007-11-29T22:10:00.000-05:00

Ok so I had to blog about this fabulous sis on youtube representing the thick girls (Thick in the pre-Beyonce sense) and just being fabulous! I swear she needs her own show or at least to be a personal image consultant or something because she's georgeous and knows how to maintain it! She's totally inspired me to consider vlogging. Here is a clip of one of her tutorials.

Crank that Black Girl

2007-11-17T17:18:00.000-05:00

Ok, I got caught up. And every once in a while I might crank that souljah boy out of the sheer fact that the song has been drilled into my psyche by WPGC 95.5 and even Ellen's daytime show. Its an interesting whole body experience that reminds me of my college days in the south, that allows me to take part in a dance with multiple steps, to reinforce to me my Blackness, hipness, my youth. My feminist self always lurks in the shadows, sure that there is something awry here, something painful and something with which I must be ideologically opposed.

But the shit is soooo damn catchy. And here comes the age old Black feminist dilemma of inclusion, investment in hip hop culture but also a fundamental opposition to ideologies which seek to do women harm. So I began to think about how the dance and the song intersect at a moment in which Black women's embodiments are a source of release, agency, yet also shame. (And reinforced with m shame in enjoying it as a feminist.) How the dance itself is agency, how it is expression, but how ultimately is a source and location of shaming within black women's bodies.

The problem of the jovial:

This all lies within the dialect. The ways in which we can hear without listening because language can be rendered meaningless coming from particular bodies especially as we tie certain bodies to geographic areas which are culturally shamed. I'm talking about the u.s. south. The ways in which--within the context of U.S. American history the south has been a site of shame and shaming. This shame and shaming involves the ways in which the South has been a symbol of active and violent racism via slavery and jim crow, of evangelical religiousness via the southern baptist church, and overall backwardness via the poverty of the Black Belt South and Appalachia. This shame/shaming has been characterized by racist ideologies that have been able to hold true in the south. The south has become a site of pathological spectacle wherein the racist, morally corrupt and violent psyches of a more industrious north can find release and a simultaneous sense of scientific and moral erudition.

All of this is caught up in the ways in which vernaculars, certain ways of speaking can be rendered meaningless via the ways in which U.S. America looks to the south for sites of poverty, backwardness, and illiteracy. We can listen to Souljah Boy and not hear what he says--not because we all don't understand it (Because many of us do.) but because it comes from his Mississippi Delta drawl. Catchy hooks render his words even more meaningless. As meaningless as a jingle, but just as powerful as both are marketing tools for capitalist goods and dominant ideology. Souljah Boy, at 17 is a caricature. One who has been made familiar to us by representations of Black men in the south via 'Lil John, Three Six Mafia, and the minstrel characters of the early 20th century. The psychic slack jaw of his drawl is the ironic aspect of what is thought to be understood of him that there is nothing heavy in his mouth but his bottom lip.

Its such a dubious lie. Especially for Black women.

There is something powerful coming from this 17 year old's mouth about Black women and shame--particularly around Black women's embodiment and their sexuality.

Crank That/ The head nod vs. The boogie

I think we can break down the dance itself to talk about the ways in which it offers a particular kind of agency, a different kind of Black masculinity. Which is where I will start.

Thugs don't dance--they rock, they lean back, the mad dog, mean mug, they lean against a wall so they can survey a crowd or have a woman break a sweat in front of him. The "cool pose" and Black masculinity have been linked for a very long time now. Dancing is far too expressive, music and dance is a kind of chaos which may lead to loosing control. And control is masculinities #2 thing (the domination of women being #1). The surge of music in the south that encourages dancing and even offers steps, reveals the ways in which Black masculinities in the south have formed differently. These masculinities had to do to particular realities of racialized violence in the south. Now I haven't quite formulated to myself how this exactly happens, but I think a trip to a hip hop club in the south versus one in the north will reveal that this actually happens. The shame around particular embodiments of Black men in the South makes it impossible for Black men to perform masculinity in a "southern" way. If Black men in the shameful and shamed south allow themselves certain embodied releases through gestures, postures, and even dance, Black men in the north must embody and perform an evolved sense of being something aggressively masculine, controlled, and cool.

But masculinity is as masculinity does and this is heavily revealed through Souljah Boy's performance.

"Superman that Hoe": Affirming Masculinity and Transferring Shame

The issue of shame and Black (and white, although differently represented) bodies in the south mirrors itself to the ways in which gender and sexuality play themselves out in southern rap. For the southern rapper, masculinity must be affirmed in the face of the ultra cool stoic of the northern Black male. The most accessible and historically consistent way of doing this? Dominate Black women.

And what a more poignant way of doing with it than within Black women's very embodiment.

We who know the catchy tune Souljah Boy are incredibly familiar with the part of the lyrics, and the dance that are as follows:

"Watch me crank that souljah boy and superman that hoe."

Ok, for those who didn't know... (because I didn't until very recently) to "superman that hoe" can be described as the following:

*if you aren't sitting down, please do so now.*

The action of ejaculating on a woman's back during intercourse and leaving a towel or sheet on her back so that in the morning the dried semen will have made the towel or sheet stick to her resulting in her waking up with something that will resemble a cape.

*breathe*

Other definitions here, and here, and here.

The moment I've described is imbued with shame as it is dependent upon the woman being caught unawares, of having bodily fluids spewed and left on her body to dry, and then, literally carrying evidence of that moment on her back. The moment is ultimately summed up in an ironic cartooning of her complete lack of power over her body (via dried cum where she can't see it) to the fictional symbol of superhuman strength and power--Superman. The very moment of sexual intercourse is then reduced to a childish prank that reveals power, and misuse of trust.

Within the embodied moment described in the lyrics and then again the embodied moment in the dance which is reduced for popular consumption to imitating the fictional superhero in flight there is again a moment of shaming wherein a woman must either ignore the implication of the term, embrace the term and/or replace it onto a woman who she would consider a "hoe," or remain ignorant of its meaning and consider it a cute homage to the late Christopher Reeves. All but the last are in recognition of the embodied shame that is doubled by the dance itself and the sexual act it describes (the last simply hopes to remain ignorant of the shame).

What results is a way in which a dance which includes multiple steps, that requires whole body movements reinforces masculinity available for consumption by Black males nationwide. Even Queens native, Nas is feeling it. Could the song have been successful without this particular reference? Possibly but not probably. The moment of dancing (i.e. cranking that souljah boy) must be followed up with this misogynist and heterosexual act:

"Watch me crank that souljah boy then superman that hoe."

But the song would have not been possible without the rhythmic and catchy repetition of the word "hoe." (In cleaner versions it is heard as Oh!) And the rapper would have not successfully presented himself as masculine and heterosexual without that reference.

After all the song is just about a black boy who likes to dance.

Right?

The little boys in the beginning are precious.

YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!

Nelly does it again...

2007-11-16T17:29:00.001-05:00

All I had ever wanted... a skinny jean for the big girls... and I still don't have a decent winter coat...

oh the morality...

What what?

2007-11-14T19:13:00.000-05:00

Surefire sign of procrastination.

Crank dat Black Girl

2007-11-14T18:19:00.001-05:00

..a more theoretical version later. For now:

Mo AHHH ti CHOO* vation

2007-11-10T19:04:00.000-05:00

I am little under the weather with a lot on my plate. Any one know of any quick remedies?

*sniffle*

Bettina

This Substitute Teacher is My Hero

2007-11-09T23:11:00.000-05:00

Ok ok... there are some points here where she crossed the line. But telling Black kids that they shouldn't eat Burger King or McDonalds because of the hormones in it doesn't seem like a huge deal to me.

And yes, cream crack does cause cancer. Ok it might not, but that many chemicals in Black women's scalp has got to have a health effect.

Right on Sister Jessica. Sugar is cocaine.

From NBC4.com
Parents in Houston said they were terrified when they found out what a substitute teacher has been teaching their children.

Students at MacGregor Elementary School said the substitute makes them call her "Sister Jessica" and take notes of her lessons.

"She said she doesn't want to be called 'Miss' because it means mistress and 'Mister' means slave master," said one of the fifth-graders who did not want to be identified.

"My child does not know what a prostitute is and she shouldn't be learning that at school," the student's mother said.The student said that the teacher said she was teaching them about health.

"She said sugar is cocaine, McDonald's should be called 'Crack Donald's' and Burger King should be called 'Murder King' because the hormones in the food will kill you," the student said.

The mother recalled when her child came home and asked if a hair perm and makeup causes cancer. The fifth-grader said she learned that in school and that the teacher said she did not believe in God.

"I take my daughter to school to learn, but not to learn this stuff and what this teacher likes or dislikes," the mother said.The mother said her daughter is scared to brush her teeth because the teacher told the class there is rat poison in toothpaste."

This would be a great teaching moment as a parent. We instill in children constantly harmful things about themselves and society. This sister had personal beleifs outside of dominant ideology--some that were helpful and at least mostly true (i.e. the horrible substances in fast food) and some myths and personal ideology. The fact is, children are taught these things daily in media and in school--all of which has information that is questionable or at least should be questioned.

I thought about this... if I had a child this would be a very interesting, difficult, but important conversation to have. Yes, your teachers are there to teach you something--but a more important thing to learn is an initiative of the autodidact. There are truths teachers tell us, and there are some dominant ideologies that are harmful that we learn as well. My parents often told me to "look it up." Knowledge was something I had to seek. I could not and should not expect to be told truths. My mother was radical enough to tell me why certain truths were hidden from me by my teachers... but I think the "look it up" way of teaching definately helped me form my consciousness... as someone who had to take control of her education.

As an example, in the 9th grade I was in this "honors" program called international baccalaureate. First years were expected to take world history. Well march came around and there was no discussion of Africa beyond Egypt. We studied Egypt along with Greece as if they were one in the same. I had questions about this, was swiftly silenced, and for the next few days brought one of my mother's textbooks from college (she was an African Studies major) to class and read from it in conjunction with what we were reading by that time, about Asia. I would have never known of any Kingdom of Benin or the history of Ethiopia without that moment of autodidact initiative.

As a parent, and as a student activist my mother knew that certain knowledges would not be given to me, and that certain myths would be fed to me constantly. Thus, she thrusted books outside of my reading from school. Initiated the "look it up" rule, and quickly I became both an inquisitive and slightly obnoxious student (particularly to white or white identified teachers).

I mean really, this moment in Houston hinges on the debates we've been having for years about where the responsibility of children's learning lies.