Halloween is almost here and gone. Hallelujah!
Halloween means decorations that include mice, and I hate mice and any other furry animals that resemble them (gerbils, hamsters, squirrels). I don’t like them because—dead or alive, real or not—the sight of them really does give me creepy feeling that starts at the nape of my neck and moves all down my back at the same time that my heart beat revs up for the Indy 500. Mickey Mouse gets a pass because he doesn’t have fur, but Stuart Little is out and so are any stories or movies that feature the little critters. I watched much of The Green Mile through the spaces between my fingers because my hands were covering my eyes. As much as I try, I can’t get away from them because the little monsters are everywhere including Halloween setups. So, for the next seven days I’ll have to tip around stores and peek down aisles so that I don’t happen upon one of the rubber mice and damn near lose my mind.
I know it’s bad because it’s beyond fear; it’s a phobia. A mouse in my presence paralyzes me, and it’s been that way for as long as I can remember. It probably has something to do with my brother holding a dead mouse over my head when I was a child—a charge that he’ll deny to this day, but I know. Sometimes I think it’s getting better because if I see one I only jump five feet instead of ten and I can actually bring my heart back into a normal beating range in a shorter space of time, but I’m not ready to push my luck which is why I’ll be glad when we get to November 1st.
I’ve tried talking to my rationale self. I say, “Self, mice are God’s creatures, too. And they’re excellent way to conduct research that can be used to make human life better.” I even try to explain that mice are probably as afraid of me as I am of them. “Self!” I shout when I run across a dead mouse. “It’s dead.” But nothing works. My Irrational Self dominates the conversation screaming that she doesn’t want to share the planet with them no matter how valuable they are to research. I’ve told her that we need help and she agrees, but she knows that dealing with her fear means that she must face her fear, and she ain’t having not parts of no mouse. So, until my Irrational Self is ready, we pray that God will keep us and the mice outside of each other’s company.
Reflections and Observations on Noteworthy Things & Themes, Unbiased and Uncut...
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Girl on Girl Love?
I know it can’t just be me, but for the past few years I’ve been noticing a disturbing trend among mostly some African-American women. Sometimes my thinking can be a little unorthodox. This might be one of those times. Recently I was out to dinner with my twin goddaughters, their mother and brother, and I noticed a couple sitting at the table next to us. She was light-skinned twenty-something woman with shoulder length black hair. I wouldn’t have paid them much mind except she had a mustache which kept drawing my attention to her face. Her other half had left and when He returned to the table, I realized that He was a She--slim build, locks at the nape of the neck left hanging and some in the top swooped up into a ponytail. “She” had on a white t-shirt, and slim jeans—a common outfit among African-American males. I asked my friend if she thought they were a couple and she said yes which confirmed my thinking, but there was no proof. They could have just been two friends out having dinner, but this phenomenon was something that I’ve witnessed frequently and there was no doubt that the two were a couple. Now before we get to the part about me being anti gay and anti lesbian, I’m not. People love who they love.
What’s disturbing about this trend is not the same-sex relationships, but the nature of the relationship. In the type of couplings that I’m speaking of, the “male” tries especially hard to evoke his manhood from the haircut, to the style of dress complete with sagging jeans and boxers showing, to the way He takes the lead in the relationship. One couple was shopping. He paid for the shoes and carried the boxes. Another twosome was sitting so close at the table that they only need one seat. This isn’t Nick and Jules in The Kids Are Alright or Hillary Swank in Boys Don’t Cry. This is Snoop from The Wire in real life, and they’re trying hard to imitate heterosexual couples. It’s like they’re playing dress-up, only they believe that it’s the real thing.
With all of the negative statistics about the state of black male/female relationships, I wonder if some women have resigned themselves to not having a “real” man so this is the next best thing to one. I’ve seen lesbian couples of different nationalities, but only among African-Americans have I seen this level of hyper masculinity that screams, “Look at me! And that’s what concerns me. Who’s trying to dupe who? Are the “males” transgender or gay? Are the females lesbian, bisexual or something else? Is this self-expression? Is it proof that sexuality is fluid and not stagnant like we’ve been taught to believe? Or is this another way to castrate the Black male image?
What’s disturbing about this trend is not the same-sex relationships, but the nature of the relationship. In the type of couplings that I’m speaking of, the “male” tries especially hard to evoke his manhood from the haircut, to the style of dress complete with sagging jeans and boxers showing, to the way He takes the lead in the relationship. One couple was shopping. He paid for the shoes and carried the boxes. Another twosome was sitting so close at the table that they only need one seat. This isn’t Nick and Jules in The Kids Are Alright or Hillary Swank in Boys Don’t Cry. This is Snoop from The Wire in real life, and they’re trying hard to imitate heterosexual couples. It’s like they’re playing dress-up, only they believe that it’s the real thing.
With all of the negative statistics about the state of black male/female relationships, I wonder if some women have resigned themselves to not having a “real” man so this is the next best thing to one. I’ve seen lesbian couples of different nationalities, but only among African-Americans have I seen this level of hyper masculinity that screams, “Look at me! And that’s what concerns me. Who’s trying to dupe who? Are the “males” transgender or gay? Are the females lesbian, bisexual or something else? Is this self-expression? Is it proof that sexuality is fluid and not stagnant like we’ve been taught to believe? Or is this another way to castrate the Black male image?
Monday, October 4, 2010
Drinking the Kool-Aid. . .or not
Until the recent scandal involving alleged acts of seduction and sexual impropriety, I knew only vaguely of Bishop Eddie Long. I’m not a fan of mega churches. They seem large and impersonal, and I don’t understand why the preachers need things like jets and really expensive cars. Maybe I shy away because as a child growing up in the 70s, my family didn’t do Church. We didn’t start every Sunday at Sunday school and end the day with the evening service. Church for us was Sunday morning radio, Jubilee Showcase and once a year on Easter Sunday. It wasn’t that we didn’t believe in God, it’s just that the path wasn’t straight and narrow. We were raised Christian, Baptist to be more specific but there was a sprinkling of indigenous African religion and some Eastern spiritualism, so I learned that the path to God was a winding one with many forks in the road.
When I was young, I felt that people tried to scare me to Jesus with their Biblical scriptures of hell and damnation, and even though I eventually joined Church and became an active member, something was always missing. As much as I appreciated the preacher’s words, I never became a walking testimonial for the pastor. One of those people who preface everything by saying, Pastor So-and-So or Bishop Somebody said. I never walked in what I think is blind faith. I always had questions. Unlike the Jim Jones followers, I never drank the Kool-Aid. I still don’t. I maybe dip my finger in it, and taste it. I may even sip it, but I never gulp it. I used to feel bad about this, but I’ve come to accept this is just who I am. I respect and admire people for who they are, wherever they might be in life, but I never forget that they are simply people. So, if I sip, I’m less likely to get choked on their humanity. Some of us gulp; some of us sip. Some of us don't partake at all. Drink or don't drink; it's up you.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
The Bottom
Bottom (n) the lowest part or place; also: an inferior position
Have you ever been to the bottom? Do you know what it’s like to fall face down, splat the ground and feel as though life has been knocked right out of you? The simple act of inhaling and exhaling becomes painful as you try to figure out not how you ended up there, but why did you end up there again?
At some point we all find ourselves in the posterior part of this place we call life—a place that when we get there we know that if we’re not careful, we may not ever leave. We’ve been there, but for each of us it’s different. How many times can we fall before we’re too broken to get back up again? How do we know when we’re dangling dangerously toward the bottom? Can we feel the roughness of the concrete against our lips? What’s our bottom?
Have we become so disoriented that we believe the bottom is really the top?
What was the bottom for you, and how did you climb out of it?
Have you ever been to the bottom? Do you know what it’s like to fall face down, splat the ground and feel as though life has been knocked right out of you? The simple act of inhaling and exhaling becomes painful as you try to figure out not how you ended up there, but why did you end up there again?
At some point we all find ourselves in the posterior part of this place we call life—a place that when we get there we know that if we’re not careful, we may not ever leave. We’ve been there, but for each of us it’s different. How many times can we fall before we’re too broken to get back up again? How do we know when we’re dangling dangerously toward the bottom? Can we feel the roughness of the concrete against our lips? What’s our bottom?
Have we become so disoriented that we believe the bottom is really the top?
What was the bottom for you, and how did you climb out of it?
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Nigger Rant--Oops! I mean N Word Rant
Here we go again. It seems that Dr. Laura’s recent nigger rant on the radio has forced her into quitting because she can't say what she wants to say, she said. But that's exactly what she did. The word that the NAACP and other African-American leaders held a mock funeral for, like Jesus has risen. Why are we still here?
What’s hard for people to get is that black folk are no more monolithic than any other group of people, and you will find mixed feelings about THE N WORD even among us. Despite its ugly racially tinged past, this word has always had multiple meanings as writer Gloria Naylor so eloquently explains in her essay, "The Meaning of a Word. www.csun.edu/~hcpas003/language.html This essay, which appeared in the New York Times in 1986, is still relevant today. Naylor explains that the “people in my grandmother’s living room took a word that whites used to signify worthlessness or degradation and rendered it impotent.”
Dr. Laura argued that people without enough melanin in their skin couldn’t use THE N WORD, and she’s right. Like it or not, membership has its privileges. A woman can talk about her good-for-nothing husband and her ungrateful children, and everything she says maybe true, but she is the only person that can utter those words because she’s vested in her husband and kids.
Black people have always used “nigger” in its various forms and levels of complexity, but we did it in the privacy of our own homes, and never in mixed company. Then some comedians and hip-hop artists took it out of the house and into the street, and all hell breaks open every time somebody non-white utters THE N WORD. There are two books devoted to this one word and even the titles of these books demonstrate a lack of consensus: The N Word: Who Can Say It, Who Shouldn’t and Why by Jabar Asim and Nigger: The Strange Career of a Troublesome Word by Randall Kelly. It will probably live on through eternity, so let’s move and talk about the real issue behind the rant.
The bigger issue for me was not her use of the word 13 times; it was what was really behind her outburst. A caller, an African-American woman married to a white man said that she was fed up with her husband’s friends making racial comments and Dr. Laura lost it, and told the world how she really felt. It wasn’t about the woman’s insensitive jerk-of-a husband, but about Dr. Laura's disappointment in President Barack Obama not being the be-all-and-end-all to this nation’s troubled racial past--and present if we're into truth telling. It was as if she thought him being President would magically erase this country’s racial history. And she's not alone in her thinking.
Dr. Laura accused African-Americans of voting for Obama because he’s half black saying that it, “It’s a black thing” not bothering to mention that the melanin in his skin cost him some votes, too. Then she went on to say that now that we have a black President there’s even more complaining about racism--something she thinks is "hilarious.” She thought that an African-American in the White House would stop blacks from demonizing whites as hating blacks, but it seems to have grown, thanks to black activists.
Are we there yet? If you have to ask, the answer is no. We are not living in post- racial American. When Obama was running for president, most people were asking was he ready? I was wondering if we were ready. Emmett Til was killed in 1954, not for whistling at a white woman, but because his killers were afraid of integration. They said in an interview with Life magazine they didn’t want their children going to school with black children. Even though schools were desegregated in 1954, it was nearly a decade later before it actually happened and there was still a great deal of resistance. We are not that far removed from that period in our history.
I’m not mad at Dr. Laura for her nigger rant because she said how she really feels, and that’s what we need to open up the dialogue so that we can move forward in this country.
What’s hard for people to get is that black folk are no more monolithic than any other group of people, and you will find mixed feelings about THE N WORD even among us. Despite its ugly racially tinged past, this word has always had multiple meanings as writer Gloria Naylor so eloquently explains in her essay, "The Meaning of a Word. www.csun.edu/~hcpas003/language.html This essay, which appeared in the New York Times in 1986, is still relevant today. Naylor explains that the “people in my grandmother’s living room took a word that whites used to signify worthlessness or degradation and rendered it impotent.”
Dr. Laura argued that people without enough melanin in their skin couldn’t use THE N WORD, and she’s right. Like it or not, membership has its privileges. A woman can talk about her good-for-nothing husband and her ungrateful children, and everything she says maybe true, but she is the only person that can utter those words because she’s vested in her husband and kids.
Black people have always used “nigger” in its various forms and levels of complexity, but we did it in the privacy of our own homes, and never in mixed company. Then some comedians and hip-hop artists took it out of the house and into the street, and all hell breaks open every time somebody non-white utters THE N WORD. There are two books devoted to this one word and even the titles of these books demonstrate a lack of consensus: The N Word: Who Can Say It, Who Shouldn’t and Why by Jabar Asim and Nigger: The Strange Career of a Troublesome Word by Randall Kelly. It will probably live on through eternity, so let’s move and talk about the real issue behind the rant.
The bigger issue for me was not her use of the word 13 times; it was what was really behind her outburst. A caller, an African-American woman married to a white man said that she was fed up with her husband’s friends making racial comments and Dr. Laura lost it, and told the world how she really felt. It wasn’t about the woman’s insensitive jerk-of-a husband, but about Dr. Laura's disappointment in President Barack Obama not being the be-all-and-end-all to this nation’s troubled racial past--and present if we're into truth telling. It was as if she thought him being President would magically erase this country’s racial history. And she's not alone in her thinking.
Dr. Laura accused African-Americans of voting for Obama because he’s half black saying that it, “It’s a black thing” not bothering to mention that the melanin in his skin cost him some votes, too. Then she went on to say that now that we have a black President there’s even more complaining about racism--something she thinks is "hilarious.” She thought that an African-American in the White House would stop blacks from demonizing whites as hating blacks, but it seems to have grown, thanks to black activists.
Are we there yet? If you have to ask, the answer is no. We are not living in post- racial American. When Obama was running for president, most people were asking was he ready? I was wondering if we were ready. Emmett Til was killed in 1954, not for whistling at a white woman, but because his killers were afraid of integration. They said in an interview with Life magazine they didn’t want their children going to school with black children. Even though schools were desegregated in 1954, it was nearly a decade later before it actually happened and there was still a great deal of resistance. We are not that far removed from that period in our history.
I’m not mad at Dr. Laura for her nigger rant because she said how she really feels, and that’s what we need to open up the dialogue so that we can move forward in this country.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
What's a Girl to Do?
It began with an innocent comment on Facebook. Someone sent me a request to sign a petition against Target's support of a right wing political candidate, and I made a joke and said, "No Walmart, no Target, what's a girl supposed to do?"
There were two responses to my statement: I was advised to shop at Costco because they're owned by decent people, and it was also suggested that I patronize my local vendors.Even though both comments make perfectly good sense,I had to shake my head and laugh at the absurdity of it all. Something that began innocently has morphed into an internal debate about what do I do, really?
There has been a boycott of Walmart because of its unfair labor practices, and if there's no Walmart (which I'm not a big fan of anyway), then there's also no Sam's Club shopping since they are both owned by the Walmart family. And so, even though Walmart is cheaper, I honor the boycott and shop elsewhere. My co-worker had a computer notebook, and I asked her where she bought it because I'm in the market for one, and she said Walmart. I told her I didn't shop at Walmart, and explained my reason, and she said she likes to shop at Walmart and save her money. She said the notebook and some other items cost her $400.00 at Walmart, and the same items would have cost about $600.00 at Walmart.
The stores closest to me are Walgreens, Target and Jewel Osco, and I struggle with shopping in the blighted area where I live because the quality and quantity of vendors is lacking. The dollar circulates in the African-American community only once before leaving, and so I shop to keep to keep businesses in my community even when I have to ask for items that are housed under lock and key. I shop in my community when the store hours posted say 7:00 p.m. and the door is locked at 6:52, and I have to show the clerk the time on my phone so that she can open the door. Sometimes I don't shop where I live because the customer service because I know deserve better, but how will my community thrive as it once did if the people who live there shop elsewhere? What is my political stance because I have to take one.
I like Costco, but shopping there requires a membership fee, and it is not in close proximity to my home. So, I have to spend more time and money to shop there. It's only me, so I don't buy in large quantities so I don't know if I get much bang for my buck, but I can shop there if I want.If I want to travel I can go to Whole Foods or Treasure Island, too. I have options should I choose to exercise them, but what about people who have limited or no options--the ones who may not have the extra cash to spend or the transportation to travel outside of the 'hood?
Even on Facebook, I am reminded of the growing chasm between the "haves" and the "have nots" in our society and it's an settling like something I ate that didn't properly digest and is churning around in my stomach. I live in two worlds and they do collide. I don't want to support unfair labor practices, nor do I want to send the message that it's ok to support political candidates,but I also want to see my community thrive, and so I ask again, what's a girl supposed to do?
There were two responses to my statement: I was advised to shop at Costco because they're owned by decent people, and it was also suggested that I patronize my local vendors.Even though both comments make perfectly good sense,I had to shake my head and laugh at the absurdity of it all. Something that began innocently has morphed into an internal debate about what do I do, really?
There has been a boycott of Walmart because of its unfair labor practices, and if there's no Walmart (which I'm not a big fan of anyway), then there's also no Sam's Club shopping since they are both owned by the Walmart family. And so, even though Walmart is cheaper, I honor the boycott and shop elsewhere. My co-worker had a computer notebook, and I asked her where she bought it because I'm in the market for one, and she said Walmart. I told her I didn't shop at Walmart, and explained my reason, and she said she likes to shop at Walmart and save her money. She said the notebook and some other items cost her $400.00 at Walmart, and the same items would have cost about $600.00 at Walmart.
The stores closest to me are Walgreens, Target and Jewel Osco, and I struggle with shopping in the blighted area where I live because the quality and quantity of vendors is lacking. The dollar circulates in the African-American community only once before leaving, and so I shop to keep to keep businesses in my community even when I have to ask for items that are housed under lock and key. I shop in my community when the store hours posted say 7:00 p.m. and the door is locked at 6:52, and I have to show the clerk the time on my phone so that she can open the door. Sometimes I don't shop where I live because the customer service because I know deserve better, but how will my community thrive as it once did if the people who live there shop elsewhere? What is my political stance because I have to take one.
I like Costco, but shopping there requires a membership fee, and it is not in close proximity to my home. So, I have to spend more time and money to shop there. It's only me, so I don't buy in large quantities so I don't know if I get much bang for my buck, but I can shop there if I want.If I want to travel I can go to Whole Foods or Treasure Island, too. I have options should I choose to exercise them, but what about people who have limited or no options--the ones who may not have the extra cash to spend or the transportation to travel outside of the 'hood?
Even on Facebook, I am reminded of the growing chasm between the "haves" and the "have nots" in our society and it's an settling like something I ate that didn't properly digest and is churning around in my stomach. I live in two worlds and they do collide. I don't want to support unfair labor practices, nor do I want to send the message that it's ok to support political candidates,but I also want to see my community thrive, and so I ask again, what's a girl supposed to do?
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Pain and Peril
Pain and Peril
We are a nation in peril; we are a nation in pain.
I have grown used to the paradox of police presence in my neighborhood--a presence that can be both comforting and discomforting, but needed. Last summer I began to worry about the interactions between the police and the people because I could see that the people were not afraid. I have seen crowds disperse at the first sign of police presence, but I don’t see that as much anymore. I have stood and watched young people stand in defiance. They neither near fear nor respect an officer’s badge.
We are a nation in peril; we are a nation in pain.
Three police officers killed since May and not even in the line of duty, but after work when they should have been able to return to civilian life: Thomas Wortham IV was killed in a robbery attempt in front of his parents’ home. He had recently returned home from a second tour in Iraq. Thor Soderberg gun was taken from him and was used to take his life in broad day light in the parking lot of the police station after ending his shift. Michael R. Bailey, 62, weeks from retirement, was outside washing his retirement gift to himself--a new car, when he was shot.
We are a nation in peril; we are a nation in pain
How do we expect to survive when we will take anyone’s life for anything? When we kill those whose job it is to serve and protect, what hope is there for the rest of us? If we can kill an officer on a dare, shoot an officer with his own weapon, and kill an officer as he waxes his car, how are we living, really? We are living recklessly and it’s scary. People are angry people, and people are in pain. Hearts are bleeding and the blood is running into our streets. What can we do to stop the flow?
We are a nation in peril; we are a nation in pain.
How do we return to a place of respect? Have we trashed our humanity so much that it is as disposable as the paper and plastic goods we use for eating and throw away? We have and always will be imperfect people, but does our humanity have to render us inhumane in our actions toward one another?
We don’t have to live in peril; we don’t have to live in pain.
We are a nation in peril; we are a nation in pain.
I have grown used to the paradox of police presence in my neighborhood--a presence that can be both comforting and discomforting, but needed. Last summer I began to worry about the interactions between the police and the people because I could see that the people were not afraid. I have seen crowds disperse at the first sign of police presence, but I don’t see that as much anymore. I have stood and watched young people stand in defiance. They neither near fear nor respect an officer’s badge.
We are a nation in peril; we are a nation in pain.
Three police officers killed since May and not even in the line of duty, but after work when they should have been able to return to civilian life: Thomas Wortham IV was killed in a robbery attempt in front of his parents’ home. He had recently returned home from a second tour in Iraq. Thor Soderberg gun was taken from him and was used to take his life in broad day light in the parking lot of the police station after ending his shift. Michael R. Bailey, 62, weeks from retirement, was outside washing his retirement gift to himself--a new car, when he was shot.
We are a nation in peril; we are a nation in pain
How do we expect to survive when we will take anyone’s life for anything? When we kill those whose job it is to serve and protect, what hope is there for the rest of us? If we can kill an officer on a dare, shoot an officer with his own weapon, and kill an officer as he waxes his car, how are we living, really? We are living recklessly and it’s scary. People are angry people, and people are in pain. Hearts are bleeding and the blood is running into our streets. What can we do to stop the flow?
We are a nation in peril; we are a nation in pain.
How do we return to a place of respect? Have we trashed our humanity so much that it is as disposable as the paper and plastic goods we use for eating and throw away? We have and always will be imperfect people, but does our humanity have to render us inhumane in our actions toward one another?
We don’t have to live in peril; we don’t have to live in pain.
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