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It began with a clap
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 Ifá 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. Labels: gender, religion, spirituality, summer, weather uttered by a black girl at 3:41 PM. | 0 comments
Labels: Obama, politics, religion uttered by a black girl at 9:30 PM. | 0 comments
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... Labels: black girls, blogging, fatness, racism, self-hate, self-love, sexism, society uttered by a black girl at 9:25 AM. | 1 comments
uttered by a black girl at 6:06 PM. | 1 comments
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. uttered by a black girl at 12:34 PM. | 1 comments
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. uttered by a black girl at 2:58 AM. | 2 comments
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