WOD1 - Bourgeois

I never really minded being called bougie. In fact, I think of it as a compliment. In my mind, being bougie means being cultured. Being classy. Being graceful. Having aspirations of doing big things with your life that don't involve selling yourself, whether implicitly or explicitly.
Of course, bougie also has the connotations of being stuck up, of thinking that you are better than others, of being 'too good'.

And what if that is the case? What if I am better than you when it comes to XYZ - as long as there is still enough humility in my heart to know that I am not perfect, then the fact that I am, indeed, better than you in various areas is just a statement of fact.
Who are these people who don't want to be better? Who are these people that believe there is a ceiling to 'good', and trying to break through that ceiling means that you are abandoning your 'people' and trying to escape where you came from. Sometimes, you come from shit, and there is no shame in trying to escape. The shame is in wallowing in it joyfully, and believing that it's the best available.

bougie
highclass highyellow think you are so
high and mighty
bougie, bitch.
sat down somewhere
and be low
be slow
be happy with what you got
unless you want to be
like them.
bougie.

Since I was a young girl, I've always wanted to be classy. The sort of smooth graceful class that never seems to trip, never makes a misstep, is comfortable in any environment with any class of people. I wanted to be gracious, graceful, elegant.

In some ways, I'm sure it was overcompensation for the ignorant, clumsy, overweight, poor, occasionally obtuse child that I was - we always want what we aren't. It was inspired by the books I read that showed people living seemingly fault-free lives outside of the drama required to keep the book moving. The heroine, even if she started out as a clumsy oaf, would end the book polished, poised, and graceful.

A lot of grace was taught to me at a young age. How to walk, smoothly and gracefully via a dictionary on the head. How to speak, clearly and crisply, so that my words weren't mushed or mumbled. How to move - smoothly and swiftly and gracefully through crowds. Most of this was taught to me in an effort to make me a better wife/domestic/serving girl, but that's neither here nor there.

As I got older, though, and started interacting with largely AA young adults, I was tarred with the 'bougie' brush. I was accused of acting white. I resented the implications that without flaunting your value, you were perceived to have no value. Classiness doesn't flaunt, it just is. It doesn't have to flaunt, to pose, to posture to prove it's worth.

Ahhh......

*sigh*

A sudden sadness has fallen over my heart.

I've been doing a lot of online talking/reading/thinking learning lately, and suddenly, someting settled on me.

I'm an outcast twice.

My skin makes me an outcast in the culture my mind/attitude would 'assign' me to.

My mind/attitude makes me an outcast in the culture my skin would 'assign' me to.

Moutains and Molehills

Okay. So now, I'm going to weigh in.

First, this is the transcript.

Media Matters for America, a liberal Web-based, not-for-profit, 501(c)(3) research and information center, has posted the transcript of the offensive Don Imus exchange with Sid Rosenberg, a sportscaster, Bernard McGuirk, executive producer, and co-host Charles McCord.

Here's the exchange:

Imus: So, I watched the basketball game last night between - a little bit of Rutgers and Tennessee, the women's final.

Rosenberg: Yeah, Tennessee won last night - seventh championship for [Tennessee coach] Pat Summitt, I-Man. They beat Rutgers by 13 points.

Imus: That's some rough girls from Rutgers. Man, they got tattoos and -
McGuirk: Some hard-core hos.

Imus: That's some nappy-headed hos there. I'm gonna tell you that now, man, that's some - woo. And the girls from Tennessee, they all look cute, you know, so, like - kinda like - I don't know.

McGuirk: A Spike Lee thing.

Imus: Yeah.

McGuirk: The Jigaboos vs. the Wannabes - that movie that he had.

Imus: Yeah, it was a tough -

McCord: "Do The Right Thing."

McGuirk: Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Imus: I don't know if I'd have wanted to beat Rutgers or not, but they did, right?

Rosenberg: It was a tough watch. The more I look at Rutgers, they look exactly like the Toronto Raptors.

My thoughts? You notice - the PRODUCER called them ho's first - and I haven't heard a PEEP of indignation about him, or suggestions that HE lose his job.

Imus added the 'nappy-headed' comment, which supports my point that the whole bruahah had little to do with him calling them Ho's, but mostly to do with him calling them Nappy-headed. Which, to me, is really the saddest thing. All black people are born with nappy hair - no matter what they might do to it AFTERWARDS, it grows nappy. And the level of racial SHAME that black people STILL have over their damn HAIR, is so high - that they have managed to get a man fired for daring to speak the shame that should be relaxed into submission.

Has McGuirk been fired? Fined? Rebuked? The producer of the show is the one who is responsible for the content, isn't he?

I think it's a media frenzy, a waste of time, and a waste of effort. If the black leadership and women's leadership gave as much of a damn about some old white man as they do about the groups they are supposed to be supporting, they might actually be able to change some things for REAL, rather than just pushing everything offensive under the rug and onto satillite radio.

All I'm saying is that it's a big blowup over hair, and black shame.

Foolishness and Self Hate

AAAAARGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Love your hair as you love yourself. Love your hair as you love yourself. Love your hair as you love yourself. Love your hair as you love yourself. Love your hair as you love yourself. Love your hair as you love yourself. Love your hair as you love yourself. Love your hair as you love yourself. Love your hair as you love yourself. Love your hair as you love yourself. Love your hair as you love yourself. Love your hair as you love yourself. Love your hair as you love yourself. Love your hair as you love yourself. Love your hair as you love yourself. Love your hair as you love yourself. Love your hair as you love yourself. Love your hair as you love yourself.

Seriously, ya'll. I mean, damn. Cursed by GOD with nappy hair? Damn, I thought the whole tribe of Ham being cursed bit went out with slavery.

If some of the threads I've seen about natural black hair were written about natural black skin, the horror and shock over someone thinking that God has 'cursed' them with this skin that doesn't take henna and tattoos and for some reason doesn't show a tan as well and burns really slowly would be viewed as it really was - wanting something that YOU CAN'T HAVE. But because it's 'just' hair, it's okay.

*mutters and growls* If people spent as much time learning what their hair likes, what it can do and what it can't do as they did whinging about it not being like somebody ELSES hair, you might have hair you loved more.

Cursed? Just tooooo through. Cursed by GOD none the less - right after he gave Eve painful childbirth, he gave black folx nappy hair.

*shakes head*

Love your hair as you love yourself. Love your hair as you love yourself. Love your hair as you love yourself. Love your hair as you love yourself. Love your hair as you love yourself. Love your hair as you love yourself. Love your hair as you love yourself. Love your hair as you love yourself. Love your hair as you love yourself. Love your hair as you love yourself. Love your hair as you love yourself. Love your hair as you love yourself. Love your hair as you love yourself. Love your hair as you love yourself. Love your hair as you love yourself. Love your hair as you love yourself. Love your hair as you love yourself. Love your hair as you love yourself.

See?? When I'm not constantly toying with my hair, I'm quuuuiet. I've been hanging out on a crunchy mama board, and that's been loads of fun.

My SHT FINALLLY got her box - I was so hoping that it would show up EVENTUALLY - there was no WAY I was going to be able to refind the stuff I had gotten for her, and I felt horrid that she might think I hadn't ever sent the box - but yay! She got it - and I think she likes everything!

Hair!

Still doing LR twice a week - no change there. I changed up my moisturizing spray last night, as my hair was feeling unusually dry - instead of spraying with plan water, then GJ, I mixed the last of my sample sized bottle of Humectress with plain water, and sprayed my hair with that, THEN sprayed the GJ on top of it - shower cap, scarf - and then, since my head was cool, I put a wool hat on top - *delighted sigh* It was like a head sauna - I'm SERIOUSLY going to do that everytime from now on.... I need to get another hat that's just for my hair, as I think that I might start rocking a hat on top of my hair tonics all the time - it will keep my head warmer, and moister, and I KNOW my hair grows faster in the summer in the south - and I really do think it's all that lovely humidity - so, yeah. Hmmm. I wish I had thought of this earlier yesterday - the thrift store was having a 50% off sale... or.... oooh! I could knit myself a hat! How much would that rock? *sigh* I've got loads of yarn, and I've got needles - all I need is to find a nice pattern....

I was busier than a cat with three tails in a room fulla rocking chairs over the weekend, so I didn't get a chance to 'get into' my hair til Saturday - which meant that as soon as I rinsed the Coconut/Lime/Honey mix out of my head on Sunday, I had to do my hair. I opted to do my hair wet, instead of letting it dry into twists and then do it....and I don't think I'll be doing that again. It wasn't that is ws HARDER - it's just that my hair has been VERY fuzzy all week, and random 'bunches' of hair missed getting into the twists, because they were still all shrunk up against my head. True, it was much easier to comb and part, but - sheesh! The fuzz man, the fuzz!

I was telling a friend of mine how unreasonably guilty I feel sometimes over the fact that I tend to kick it more with non-black folx than I do with black folx - and the comment was spurred by the whole hair board thing. I - I have a really hard time going to NP anymore - largely because I'm SOOO over the 'hair as an expression of my blackness' bit. I really don't CARE if I don't get holla'd at because I have natural hair. I could give a fat fig leaf about 'calling out' folx who post on OTHER boards about how 'ugly' some stars natural hair is. I really don't CARE about your best freinds cousins half brothers baby mama calling you a nappyheaded ho. I KNOW that my wanting longer hair isn't an aspect of me buying into 'eurocentric' beauty standards, and personally, I'm sick and tired of trying to convince women that just cuz your hair doesn't SEEM to get any longer, the ish is still GROWING and YOU are breaking it off. I just don't care about all the socio/eco/intrapolitical bullshit black folx seem to have, encourage, and nourish around HAIR. I DON'T CARE. It's not my thing, it's not my issue, and I don't have the time, energy, or desire to sift through 20 threads on THAT sort of stuff to find the ONE or TWO threads that are actually about HAIR itself rather than other peoples PERCEPTIONS of hair.

I care about growing my hair - making it stronger, LONGER, prettier and healthier. I care about trying new products that assist in those goals. I care about learning new styles, new ways to do my hair, and admiring those who have reached goals I can only hope for. And sadly enough, I'm not getting that from my natural 'sistas', so I kick it with the permed/pressed/natural sistas and the white girls.

Whoa. I didn't know I had that rant in me. Hm.

SOooooo - this weekend! Our mattress is getting delivered, I REALLY need to spackle and prime the kitchen, and I'm going to do a clarifiying treatment. Okay. You know, I'm seriously thinking bout clarifying on Friday night, and henna'ing on Saturday - but I'mma be good, and just clarify this weekend. My hair really does get upset with me when I henna more frequently than needed, so there's no need to rush.

I ordered Hair Souffle from the same lady who makes the LR - and I jsut don't really like it. It smells - chemical, and it's REALLY thick, and it's definitely a creme - so it doesn't melt into my hair. I don't know if I've used it on dry hair (I can't remember) so maybe I will try that - and use less of it, just in case I don't like it cuz I'm over using it. If I still don't like it, it might be going up for a swap....

So! I remembered what the other thing was that I wanted to type about - trimming.

Usually, when I twist up my hair, I can tell that it needs to be trimmed because the ends will be really thin, or they won't 'spiral' all of the way. This time though, when I twisted my hair - it was well - it didn't LOOK like it needed a trim. In fact, the ends were actually in purty darn good condition. I remember the day that I look at my hair and groaned that it needed a trim, it was fresh out of flat twists, and I'm wondering if the shrinkage factor just made my ends look to' up from the flo' up. I'm hoping that what it was - not that I mind trimming - it's just nice to see that keeping my hair in a truly protective style is good for it.

Oh yeah, let me pause for a second here and go into a brief rant about my people, my people.
I SWEAR - if I hear one MORE black woman get all defeatist and STATE that her hair won't grow I'mma - I'mma SCREAM. *sigh* It seems like such a simple thing to understand - let's say your hair only grows to neck length, right? And lets say you dye your hair. NOW. If your terminal length is TRULY neck length - you won't HAVE to 'grow' the dye out - the hairs will just shed, and be replaced by new, undyed hairs.....so you won't see the slow, creeping roots, and you won't see the dye slowly vanishing. Same thing with a perm - if necklength is your TERMINAL length, you won't get an even distribution of NG - hairs will just grow nappy. Now. NOW. If NEITHER of these things happen (ie, you GROW OUT) the dye - then guess what? Your. Hair. IS. STILL. GROWING!!!!!!!!!!

Now. The fact that you can't RETAIN length is something ENTIRELY different - and it's something that can be corrected by using the right products, techniques, and styles.
And please, just because YOU can't take care of your hair (or choose to NOT take care of your hair) in a way that RETAINS every scrap of growth, don't tell otha sistas that they are 'obsessed' for trying to grow their hair or that a goal of barely 20 inches is 'unrealistic'. Just say that YOU aren't willing to learn how - and work towards growing your hair out.
Back AWAY from the haterade.
Damn.

*deep breath* Okay - with THAT rant out of the way - I still want to trim my hair with the moon, but now, I'm not sure how MUCH to trim. I still have the ulta short section on the left side (which is definitely growing out - but ALL of the dyed hair has broken off in certain areas *strokestrokelovelove*), but I'm not trying to even all my hair up right now - it's going to have a be a GOOD bit longer before I start doing chops like that - and heaven knows, as much as I would like to, doing a 'dusting' well - um, no. Not on these curls.... though, if I twisted em up, I might be able to pull that off. Well, I've got almost 5 weeks to figure it out, so we shall see.

Yesterday's twistout rapidly downgraded itself to a hot mess - the combo of sweating my arse off in the gym and then going home and 'playing' in it for an hour or two - well, no. I hopped in the shower before I went to bed, got it soaking wet, and slapped in some White Rain. Showercapped up, and went to bed. Got up a wee bit early this morning, combed it out (and the love affair with the horn comb CONTINUES - seriously - all of my combs are in the cupboard except for the horn one (which I keep wanting to call a bone comb) and I'm thinking about attaching a leather strap or something to it so that I can hang it - right now, it's in my conditioner mixing cup) and parted it to put into my flat twists. I used a wee bit of the Humectress as a leave in, and *pats head* my hair - despite being totally dry - is still 'slightly damp soft'. I'm liking it - and I used the TINIEST bit - so that's cool to know that it's nice as a leave-in.

*happy dance* As I'm typing this, I have a new PM - and I just KNOW it's about the Oyin trade (score!!) that EbonyGurl000 and I am plotting on - I can get some of the tempting, tempting, tempting henna out of the house, and finally bust into my cocoa butter, AND swap out the NTM that I know I won't use because it's fulla cones - and I get OYIN! Whipped Pudding and the Burnt Sugar Pomade (which I have been ITCHING to try since I read about it, but I'm trying to control my purchases....) *happy dance*

Ummmm...... I think that's it.

Have a good weekend (like I won't be writing sumthin else tomorrow!)

Affirmative Action

I'm a black woman. Under those circumstances, you would think that I would be one of the ones madly cheering the Supreme Court's decision on Affirmative Action. In actuality, I'm rather dissappointed.
The basic premise of AA is that because certain people have been historically denied access to certain 'benefits' of life due to their gender or race, the government should step in and insure that there is no discrimination in areas that recieve gov't. funding. In theory - I doubt that anyone feels that someone who has the same skills & qualifications should be denied a position solely because of their sex or race - that's just basic equality. Where the problem comes in, as in the Supreme Court case, is when people who DON'T have those same qualifications and skills are chosen over people who DO have them, simply because of AA and the color of their skin or their gender.
My disgust with the Supreme Court decision goes beyond them endorsing racism. It goes, in fact to the root of the problem - why DON'T these people have the same skills & qualifications as others? Why do they recieve lower tests scores? Why do they have lower GPA's? Why don't they have as many extra-curricular activities? Obviously, they have some interest in their education, otherwise they wouldn'tbe trying to get into college in the first place. So - what's the problem?
I went to a 99% black high school. Out of my class of 600 people, there was ONE white person, and about 7 or 8 hispanics. Due to the area that the school was located in (very poor, very low rate of home-ownership) the school taxes that were paid barely covered the maintence of the school builiding, much less things like new textbooks, SAT study guides, or any of the other 'perks' that most schools in more prosperous areas receive. In addition, a majority of the people I went to school with were the first generation in their family to even have a HOPE of going to college, and their parents had no clue what was needed to insure that their children had the skills and qualifications that the children who went to the school in the suburb up the street had. I'm assuming that the parents even actively supported their child's desire to go to college, which many parents didn't because they considered it a waste of time and money - esp. when the power plant up the street was hiring people fresh out of high school at the regal rate of 13 bucks an hour - plus overtime.
Contrast this to the also public high school (of mostly middle to upper middle class white people) that my best friend went to. Since it was a public school in a very affluent neighborhood, it was richly funded by school taxes, and it showed in the level of education. They purchased new textbooks every year. They had a brand new chemistry lab. They were able to afford in-school SAT Prep classes. They were able to afford highly qualified, dedicated and skilled teachers. They were EXPECTED to go to college after graduation - and those benefits and expectations showed in their grades and test scores.
Let's take a step back and look at this again. We have two children, and let's assume they have the same IQ, the same basic skills, the same ability to learn- but because of their parents/environment/schooling - one ends up with a SAT score of 1500, and the other ends up with an SAT score of 1000. The difference in the scoring is not due to their intelligence, or their ability to learn, but simply because of what school and what district they attended school in. That is the inequality that AA is supposed to correct - and while it does that for some cases, I firmly believe that it happens WAY too late. AA should exisit at the public school level - from Pre-K to High school - so that there is NO huge gap between the quality of PUBLIC SCHOOLS based on where you live - which most children have absolutely NO choice in. If every child is given an EQUAL opportunity to learn, and an EQUAL quality of education (which is what PUBLIC, gov't funded schools should be all about) then we wouldn't NEED AA at the college level - the playing field would already be level, and the race of the applicant would no longer make any difference in their qualifications and skills.
Screw Affirmative Action. Let's start correcting the inequalities at the ROOT of the problem, not at the tip.

She's DEAD

Hmm...as I was rooting through my mailbox... I found this...

On August 26, 1995, at 11:55 p.m., while struggling with the reality of being a human instead of a myth, the strong black woman passed away, without the slightest bit of hoopla.
Medical sources say that she died of natural causes, but those who knew & used her know she died from: being silent when she should have been screaming, milling when she should have been raging, being sick & not wanting anyone to know because her pain might inconvenience them, and an overdose of other people clinging on to her when she didn't even have energy for herself.

She died from loving men who didn't love themselves and could only offer her a crippled reflection.
She died from raising children alone and not doing a complete job.
She died from the lies her grandmother told her mother & her mother told her about life, men & racism.
She died from being sexually abused as a child and having to take that truth everywhere she went every day of her life, exchanging the humiliation for guilt & back again.
She died from being battered by someone who claimed to love her & she allowed the battering to go on to show she luvvvvvvvvv'd him too.
She died from asphyxiation, coughing up blood from secrets she kept trying to burn away instead of allowing herself the kind of nervous break-down she was entitled to, but only white girls could afford.
She died from being responsible, because she was the last rung on the ladder & there was no one under her she could dump on.

The strong black woman is dead.

She died from the multiple births of children she never really wanted but was forced to have by the strangling morality of those around her.
She died from being a mother at 15 & a grandmother at 30 and an ancestor at 45.
She died from being dragged down and sat upon by unevolved women posing as sisters.
She died from pretending the life she was living was a Kodak moment instead of a 20th century, post-slavery nightmare.
She died from tolerating Mr. Pitiful, just to have a man around the house. She died from lack of orgasms because she never learned what made her body happy & no one took the time to teach her and sometimes, when she found arms that were tender, she died because they belonged to the same gender.
She died from sacrificing herself for everybody & everything when what she really wanted to do was be a singer, a dancer, or some magnificent other.
She died from lies of omission because she didn't want to bring the black man down.
She died from race memories of being snatched & snatched & raped & snatched & sold & snatched & bred & snatched & whipped & snatched &worked to death.
She died from tributes from her counterparts who should have been matching her efforts instead of showering her with dead words & empty songs.
She died from myths that would not allow her to show weakness without being chastised by the lazy and hazy.
She died from hiding her real feelings until they became monstrously hard & bitter enough to invade her womb & breasts like angry tumors.
She died from always lifting something from heavy boxes to refrigerators.

The strong black woman is dead.

She died from the punishments received from being honest about life, racism & men.
She died from being called a bitch for being verbal, a dyke for being assertive & a whore for picking her own lovers.
She died from never being enough of what men wanted, or being too much for the men she wanted.
She died from being too black & died again for not being black enuff.
She died from castration every time somebody thought of her as only a woman, or treated her like less than a man.
She died from being misinformed about her mind, her body & the extent of her royal capabilities.
She died from knees pressed too close together because respect was never part of the foreplay that was being shoved at her.
She died from loneliness in birthing rooms & aloneness in abortion centers.
She died of shock in courtrooms where she sat, alone, watching her children being legally lynched.
She died in bathrooms with her veins busting open with self-hatred & neglect.
She died in her mind, fighting life, racism, & men, while her body was carted away & stashed in a human warehouse for the spiritually mutilated.

And sometimes when she refused to die, when she just refused to give in she was killed by the lethal images of blonde hair, blue eyes & flat butts, rejected to death by the O.J.'s, the Quincy's, & the Poitier's.
Sometimes, she was stomped to death by racism & sexism, executed by hi-tech ignorance while she carried the family in her belly, the community on her head, & the race on her back.

The strong silent, shit- talking black woman is dead.

Or is she still alive and kicking?

I know I am still here.

Living in a Trunk of Spirit

It’s amazing how much you can collect in a few years of living. I have only been in this apartment for a little over a year, and yet I managed to throw out almost 8 trash-bags full of STUFF. Some of it was stuff that I was holding onto for no apparent reason. Some of it was leftovers from old relationships. Some of it was stuff that I assume I had a rason to keep it when I kept it, but at this point I have no clue why I still have it. A LOT of it was half full notebooks and journals that I have not touched since I finished copying old poems & stories into, the originals of which I still have.

Well, I have managed to reduce the memories & writings of 23 years of life into a single trunk. From the letters I wrote to myself at 12, to the stories & plays & novel I have been working on for goddess knows how long...it's all in this one trunk. The letters from old lovers, my friends, my family, my fathers, it’s all tucked away in corners of this trunk. I wish that it was cedar lined, and had delicate padding all around the inside, something to signify that the contents repesnt something important, that most of an entire life is in there. *shrugs* Ah well… I guess my great grandchildren will find it in the attic one day and find out all about GreatGramma Jazzy and the twisted conflicted woman she was.

Oh yeah… happy 4th of July & all that Jazz. *rolls eyes* The only wonderful part about this holiday is the fireworks. I was supposed to actually go to Centenial Park and watch them, but as time rolled by and I got caught up in other things, and my hair started looking crazier & crazier I decided to just stay home. Then I started hearing the booms & rattles, and I looked out of my back door, and there, framed ever so nicely by the trees, were the fireworks. I had a perfect view from the ‘backyard’ from the start to the finale.

There is something so sad about fireworks. They are created and designed to basically blow themselves up in a few seconds of beauty. Their deaths are their lives. Okay, I need to stop anthropomorphizing the fireworks...but there is something in them that is just…unsettling.

Shall I even get into the utter absurdity of African-Americans celebrating the Fourth of July? *shakes head* Or even women for that matter? Ugh…I suppose if you celebrate it in the ‘spirit’ of freedom, and allow yourself to ignore the historical reality of what the day means…then in the ‘spirit’ of freedom there is nothing wrong with a big ole shindig for the Fourth after all…rather like the Confederate flag. Those who want it to stay up claim they are looking at the ‘spirit’ of what the flag represents, and those who want it down are looking at the historical reality of what it means. I suppose one would have to balance the two views and see which one is more representative. Humph.

Ugh. I am unsettled. I think I rather understand how amputees feel. Even though the limb is no longer there, they act like it still is, until they do something that sharply reminds them that the limb is no longer there. Ugh. I would like to stop stubbing my ‘ghost’ limbs against bits of life. And the radio is NOT helping.

Stay Jazzed.

Inner Quandries & Issues

It is odd to have to try, as a black female, to NOT be bigoted/racist. I have had a different life/childhood and so that has led me to have slightly more of an open mind than most people, but I still find my self on occasion falling into those traps that our culture seem to leave…big gaping holes that simply INVITE you to make a fool of yourself and insult half the folx around you. In addition, considering that I have also had to train myself out of the habit of speaking before I completely THINK about what I am going to say… well I have had some occasions when the floor opening me up & swallowing me whole would have been Nirvana.

Today, as I was taking a final, I realized that I consciously have to not make assumptions about the sex or age of people or examples. I KNOW that in our culture he/him is considered an appropriate word for generalities of any gender, but how can I consider myself a feminist and use them so casually? I have caught myself making comments about ‘natural hair’ to a black friend of mine whose hair grows out of her head straighter than anything Crème of Nature could imagine, and wondered where that subtle racism/colorism crept into my thought processes? I catch myself saying Jesus, or Merciful Mother of God, and even though I am nothing even resembling Christian/catholic or any other the other major religions, they pop out as if I was a rosary carrying nun…and I can’t figure out why & how.

I cannot solely blame it on growing up in culture where such things are the norm. While that does ( obviously) have a major impact on how people think and how they view the world, shouldn’t my conscious understanding that some ways of viewing the world are just WRONG override that? I have never fallen into the ‘bone thin is in’ ideal, or the ‘light & bright is right’ ideal that tends to haunt African Americans, or even the good hair fallacy (which I grew up hearing about ALLLL the time). So how in the WORLD did the sexism creep up on me? It is rather scary that something that I make a conscious effort in my day to day life & actions to reduce… still creep out of me in such subtle ways.

Maybe I am stressing over it too much…maybe it is just one of those side effects of living in America and being bombarded with constant images of what is right & what ain’t. It makes me wonder what ELSE that I would prefer not to be a part of me is tucked away inside of me as a side effect of living here, in the land of the brave & the free.

Okay.. a TOTALLY random and side note…why is my body acting crazier NOW than it was while I was pregnant? I told my mom that if I didn’t KNOW I was pregnant I would never have had any clue…and now that I am not pregnant anymore…I get nauseated in the morning…I get bloated…my breasts are tender… I mean REALLY!

I finally finished one final. Only one mind you, but thank god (see..there it is again….I would say thank the goddesses but.. I am not in touch like that to be comfy saying it…it seems rather like sacrilege), it is the one for the class I have been stressing about. I think I did pretty good, but I am hoping that he will have mercy on me. *sighs* I mean he is LEAVING anyway…speaking of which… (another random note) the Comp Sci department at my school only has 5 teachers, one of whom is the department head & doesn’t teach much, and another who is a newbie ( this is his first year here). Yet…at the Senior Farewell (which had us in TEARS) the other three teachers announced that they were LEAVING. To say we were in shock is putting it mildly… oddly enough we (the seniors) feel betrayed, even tho we would be leaving them. It’s an odd reaction on our part, and the poor juniors are devastated. So, I’m hoping that since NONE of them will be here next year, they would not be cruel enough to force ME to be here next year. But then again, they might just say.. hey.. I’m gonna give her the grade she got *shudders* That might get ugly. All I want is a C. *grins* Like Shasta said… C stands for CASHMONEY!!! Well, that ain’t EXACTLY what she said, but you get the general idea.

Okay… my head is going ballistic and I am starting to hear things, so I think I will go to bed now.

Stay Jazzed.

The Rise and Fall of Humankind

Things that rub me the wrong way:

Black people who denigrate their own people, assuming that everyone who is black is inferior and can never do anything right.

Men who assume that lesbians hate men.

Women who play the helpless and dumb role in order to attract men

Any human that treats children as idiots. You were a child too once upon a time.

Men or women who brag about the number of sex partners they have had, and have no shame about enumerating their children’s various mothers & fathers.

Men (boys) who act as though the burden of procreation is not on them but on the woman.

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Yeah, okay... I was doing a bit of ranting... but I had a long ride home last night, and I was hearing things that...I didn't need nor want to hear. I swear, sometimes I simplt get so sick & tired of HUMANS in general that I don't know what to do with myself. *sighs* I don't know...somedays it seems like intelligence is being sucked out of people at an exponential rate, and that most folx are already too damn stupid to care. *sighs* There are times when I wonder what use there is to.... to caring about others. And by that I mean the 'world' in general. Some things are so patently obvious that it seems like either there is someting seriously lacking in that person as a whole, or I am simply not comprehending where they are coming from. For my own sanity, and for the continuance of the littel bit of hope I have for the human race, I assume that I simply just DON'T get it. And then.. there are the things that people do...thinking that is it utterly cool & right & wonderful...and never seem to comprehend the utter chaos it will throw thier life into. *sighs* I don't know. I thrive on simplicity... rolling with the punches... delicately bending life to do what I want it to do... *sighs* and chaos...I just don't work well with. ah well. I am making myself tired....so...

Stay Jazzed.

Random Notes on A Chilly Day

The fact that it is chilly outside is important somehow, seeing that I am sitting on my back ‘porch’ almost barefoot. But I needed some peace to write in, and it seems that here in the back I can see what I’m trying to say.

It’s getting warmer (over the past few days that is) and so more and more people are coming out. And as I walk through the crowds of tired, aching, drunk, drugged, healthy, pregnant, young & old folks, to get to my bus home, I can almost FEEL the/a self destructive force trying to suck my spirit away. I get so tired and so sad and so hopeless seeing people tear themselves down. But I had to just sigh, and remind myself: These ARE my people.

I walk from the bus stop to my house, pausing to admire the majesty and beauty that is the wooded field behind my house, looking like a little slice of heaven in the ‘hood’. My spirit lifts, and I am reminded of why I chose to live here. And I continue walking home, I watch the brothers teaching the smaller brothers how to play golf, and I have to sigh and say THESE are my people.

I get my mail, and as I do so I greet the gold toothed matron who rules the ‘stoop’ in front of my apartment with an iron hand. And I step around a wrestling/tussling match that ends with beer spilled all over the remarkably large baby in the stroller. As I lock my door behind me, I hear cussing and accusations going on as to who started it and how and why and ‘I don’t give a fuck why, y’all jes need to watch out for mah baby’ and I shake my head and remind myself that these are MY people.

I straighten up the living room and chat with some friends and eat something unhealthy as I try to pass the time until my sorors and our aspirant get here. I sit and read some Pearl Clege and wonder what happened to all the strong/beautiful/revolutionary men & women that she talks about and I realize that we have changed and converted into something different. We are confused about what there is left to fight against. We (my generation) are battling mists instead of the rock walls that her generation had to deal with. As I am trying to read my pearl, I hear a woman outside cussing and screaming about how she is gonna kill some man who did her wrong. Telling the baby to start crying for his daddy, because when the sun comes back up he is gonna be dead and she was gonna be in jail, but she didn’t care because he did her wrong. And everyone outside watched her in silence, letting her testify out her anger and rage and hopeless and weakness, but I’m disturbed because I can’t relate what I’m seeing with what Pearl is telling me. And I wonder why she has to be so loud so long, and then I sigh and remember, these are my PEOPLE.

So that’s why I’m sitting outside almost barefoot on a chilly day. I couldn’t hear what Pearl was trying to tell me anymore, and I wanted to write about what I had heard and seen all day, and the different sides of my people that I see. And so as I sit and watch the sun go down and wait for my sorors to come striding across the field, bringing a new woman into our fold, I smile and ponder the wondrous variety of beings that are my people. And I hope, that even with the challenges that we face... we wil lbe able to

Stay Jazzed.