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Insomnia.
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. Labels: black girls, black women, election 2008, Obama, politics uttered by a black girl at 1:19 AM. | 1 comments
Labels: Obama, politics, religion uttered by a black girl at 9:30 PM. | 0 comments
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 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. Labels: children, education, politics, teaching uttered by a black girl at 11:11 PM. | 1 comments
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