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How to spread hate to children.
While looking up the origin of the term "birds and the bees" I came across this atrocious comic strip. The whole oppression of Christians narrative is alive and well here. As is this idea that Gays are damaging young people. Also, I find it interesting that not only does this comic strip condone and encourage homophobia in children, but also utilizes derogatory terms in order to do so. Note how Frankie is "shamed" for calling the gay couple (with little demons on their heads) queers and not in the liberatory sense. Also note the false reading of Sodom and Gomorrah. The way this "gospel" is directed towards children as something as frightening as well... crazy misguided evangelicals: "And if anyone tries to make you gay stay away from them!" Also note the emphasis on reading the KJV version of the bible. Ironic and not so ironic--dude was gay. Here is the original post I am referring to: Chick publishing In an effort to seek balance here is another view of what the bible says about homosexuality: Whosoever.org Also peep this one and its subliminal messages about race and sin: Crazy people uttered by a black girl at 11:57 PM. | 0 comments
 You thought paper bag tests were over? Think again. A Detroit nightclub promoter released this flyer for an upcoming party. (After a huge internet backlash, the party has been cancelled.) uttered by a black girl at 2:49 PM. | 2 comments
 Wrapped in strengthI am feeling overwhelmingly grateful for my hair right now. It could be because I found a knot in it that was making the rest of the lock very weak. I tore it off of the longer loc and felt a bit of sadness. I always feel this incredible amount of sadness when a piece of my loc must be removed but then I hold the rest of my hair and feel overwhelming joy over the fact that I still have hair—that there is so much of it, and that its mine. I usually hold it to my face and inhale deeply. It usually has some tropical scent to it—some coconut with a hint of citrus, maybe pineapple all wrapped up in the duskyness of me. I have an extremely close relationship with my hair—especially since it locked in 2000. I was so excited to have it done, I’d covered my hair for months with guelles—attempting to grow it out with cornrows from of a horrible curly perm (not quite a wave nuveau) I had for a year. I was so excited to step into Oh! My Nappy Hair on LaBrea in Los Angeles and begin my locking journey. I took people’s advice early on, not exactly knowing why about not letting just anyone touch my hair, about looking carefully at products (later realized that the product OMNH was selling me wasn’t the best either). Eventually I learned that the best person to maintain my hair was me, and if I found someone else I’d be lucky. I have. My loctician is wonderful—full of good energy but one day he disappeared and I needed my locs done desperately. I walked into the next beauty salon with a reasonable price and learned to deeper depths why it is important not to let just anyone touch your hair. This crazy woman married four pairs (a total of eight) locs. Now my locs are mature with lots of length and my hair is very thick. There is no reason on this earth why my locs should be married. Much less, she didn’t tell me she married them! Just thinking about it makes me emotional. Makes me feel violated. At the same time I suddenly started to feel suffocated and mistreated by someone I was dating. I started to accept rudeness and unwanted emotional labor and incorporated it into my life as if I needed it. I felt entwined in something that didn’t seem to want me and in reality—I didn’t want it either. Nonetheless I felt compelled to try to make it work. Felt love and lust and all of that. Pretty soon my locs needed to be touched up and I finally found my trusty loctician. As he twisted the locs, he notified me of the married ones I had. I didn’t know I had four. This is when the feelings of violation set in. The woman who did my locs didn’t tell me she was going to make this imprint on my life (my locs are a testament to my life) in this way. I didn’t want my locs to be married. I had a fit over this for weeks and after a long meditation on my love life, my career, friendships, everything. I wasn’t able to sleep during this time—found myself watching the sun set and rise without winking. I felt this incredible urge to be free of anything that bound me up and I wasn’t supposed to be bound up in. I took a crochet hook to my locs and unmarried all of the ones she combined without my consent. I was crying and shaking the entire time. Some of the locs threatened to be weaker if I continued to pull but I decided that would be better to lose one or two than to have this bound up feeling… this feeling that I had no control over my body. By the time I was finished (all of them in tact) I felt spiritual and emotional release. I kid you not at that moment I released that loved-one, I released the desire to berate the woman who screwed up my hair. I even released anxieties about school and effed up friendships. I had a sense of clarity and control over my life, body, and emotions. After I did this, I immediately went to sleep, and didn’t have many problems sleeping since. Yes. My locs are powerful—magical. I guess this is why I can’t wash them in my rusty shower. Why I am definitely never trusting any other loctician except the one I have, and the one who started them (Rosario of Oh! My Nappy Hair). Why sometimes I just rest in them and find comfort. They are a seven year history now. And these last seven years have been of much growth. Of violent relationships and the strength to leave, of education and enlightenment, of breaking old habits, of expanding my boundaries--of crossing them. I think its time that I take the leaps to reveal more growth now. Take advantage of their strength--have them grow much stronger. The leaps are scary, but I have to do them for the health of my hair and for my life. uttered by a black girl at 10:14 PM. | 3 comments
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