Just Show Business

"Empire State of Mind" by Jay Z

...the city never sleeps / but she'll slip you an Ambien...

Giggity.  I'm so happy that Christmas is over.  I am excited for New Year's Eve.  New Year's is the greatest holiday, I think.  The whole world recognizes it and we collectively talk about what we are going to do different, better, or stop doing in the new year, knowing full well that most of us won't change anything.

It's wonderful, however, this universal feeling of improvement that is fostered, even if just for a few weeks.

Everything I want to do in the new year, I have already begun.  I finally went natural and am rocking my coily afro.  I am reading up on how to make natural products for my use.  I am not kidding about this.  I really want to stop using so many chemicals.  I don't want to have to buy so much from the store anymore.  I would feel truly beautiful if I made the beauty products that I use.

Seriously, I want to learn to make my own shampoo, conditioner, leave-in conditioner, moisturizer, lotion, deodorant, body wash/soap, dish washing soap, house cleaning products, EVERYTHING!  And if it is too inconvenient to make a particular product, I will make sure I purchase it from a private merchant who makes natural products.  In the coming weeks, I am going to buy some books and research online that will teach me to make such things.

I want to free myself from the slavery that is technology in the new year.  It is wack.

Lastly, I need to do is start working out.  I don't really want to go to the gym and run on a treadmill or anything of the sort.  I want to pick up tennis again, sign up for yoga, and meditate more.

Happy New Year Boo.

Christmas: A Commercial Success

"Give It Away" by The Red Hot Chili Peppers

...give it away give it away give it away now / give it away give it away give it away now...

I'm not going to lie to you.  I don't much care about Christmas.  I don't think much of holidays at all, except my birthday and New Year's.  I only like Christmas because I am to receive gifts.  

My family is Muslim and Mommy had us celebrate all the commercialized Christian holidays so we wouldn't feel any more alienated from our peers than we were by being foreign African Muslim kids.  It was a wonderful idea on her part but I didn't learn anything meaningful about the holidays that wasn't imparted throughout the rest of the year.

Selflessness, charity, compassion, special care for the poor, humility, unimportance of material things, respect (and probably more than that) were all themes that our upbringing was predicated on.  I remember wanting Kool-Aid, but not wanting to go through the hassle of making an entire pitcher.  I would get a big cup, fill it with water, maybe a 1/3 of the packet of Kool-Aid and an unnecessary amount of sugar, mix it together and let it sit in the fridge.

Usually, the Kool-Aid would get cold and I would get to it before my Mommy noticed.  On one occasion, she saw it in the fridge before I got to it.  She looked around for the pitcher of Kool-Aid and found none.  I came to get my cup and she blasted on me about making Kool-Aid just for myself "as if no one else lives here."

At the time, I thought the old lady was just buggin' because she didn't like me.  My mother and I always argued and I thought she was just being annoying.  She made such a big deal out of not showing concern for my brothers.  "How do you know they didn't want any Kool-Aid?  Now you've made that pack obsolete for anyone else to use."  She said some more stuff too but I can't remember.  All I heard was the voice of the teacher from Charlie Brown at that point.

With age, I have come to understand that she didn't want me to be selfish.  She wanted me to consider my siblings, my family.  She wanted me to always consider other people before myself.  Now, I believe I have utterly absorbed all of those lessons and characteristics into my behavioral lexicon.  I'm quite good at being compassionate, empathetic, generous, and selfless...sometimes to the deteriment of myself.

I don't mind however.  The African worldview I have finessed informs me that life is hard and my main purpose in life is to alleviate the stress of any person I encounter in any small way that I am able.

Therefore (forgive this long digression), holidays just don't mean anything to me.  I have been taught to have this "holiday cheer" and "spirit of giving" all year round.  And that good which is not already inherent in me, I force myself to display for the good of other people.  That's just how it should be.

So here I sit, watching Big Love, texting friends, reading, eating, generally relaxing, unencumbered by the commercial holiday that is Christmas.  I didn't buy any gifts and I didn't ask for any really.  I will give my gifts after the new year, God willing, to those people I love in subtle protest of the lack of humanity we live under yet makes an appearance for the last five weeks of the year, every year.

It's all just a crock.  I can't buy it and won't spend money buying any of it either.  Love and health are free and they are the most important things we have (or don't have...and you'll miss it when you don't got it).

...in my quest to live simply, live happily, in harmony with God and nature...

3:13pm

"Africa" by D'Angelo

...Africa is my descent / and here I am far from home / i dwell within a land that is meant / for many men not my tone...

It's time to take my braids out this week.  I got them done in North Carolina by my aunt when I went to visit for fall break.  It's the second time I've gotten this hair style and I love it so.


I have also been gloating to myself that my hair is natural under it and that is amazing.  However, I feel a sense of security in these braids.  My hair is natural under, but I feel like I am keeping the trend of European hair going with these braids.


But when I analyze again, braiding is an old, old, old African tradition and set of aesthetics.  Therefore, on their own, my braids do not make me a traitor.  But if I get braids to hide something, be it from myself or from those I interact with in the world, I am a traitor.

I cut off all my hair.  I stopped perming my hair in April of this year and have been getting braids every few months to speed up the growth of this natural hair.  This last time I had my hair braided, I let my aunt cut off all the remaining permed hair.  All that was left was this inch long afro of natural, super-coiled hair.


I was proud of it.  Then I was ashamed of it.  Then I was happy with it.  Then I was excited.  Then I was ashamed again.  Then I was indifferent.  Then, I was just looking at me.

I am not my hair.  It is my crown of glory and I want it to be healthy and pretty but I want it to be just as it should.  I am an African girl and my hair is short and tightly coiled and dark brown.  I am an African girl and my skin is dark and smooth and produces little oil and is without many blemishes.  I am an African girl and I have an African worldview.  You are responsible for me and I for you.


I must remember that I am not my hair.  I am not anything that I carry with me on my body.  I am so much more complicated, beautiful, and timeless than this vessel I have been given.  And whomever judges me based on the components of this vessel is doomed to miss my profundity.


I remember what I saw in the mirror when I first saw my natural hair in the afro it is meant to be.  I loved that girl, still.

It is just so unbelievable how stringent, how strong, how usurping this European standard of beauty is.  I see it everywhere I go and I fight in my mind.  However, I am still trapped by it.  I want to just be confident and happy without having to think about it, talk it over with myself, give myself a pep talk.


I am not hair.  I am not this skin.  I am the soul that lives within.

You're So Pretty For a Dark Skinned Girl

"Pata Pata" by Miriam Makeba

...Hihi ha mama, hi-a-ma sat si pata / Hihi ha mama, hi-a-ma sat si pata...

Actually, I am just pretty.  I have this exotic African look my says boss, informed by the lust of a old White man for a slave girl concubine.  And what is enormously funny is that because he is attracted to me and wants to be "naughty" with me, he thinks my panties are all in a knot over him.  I don't want that old man.  I don't want any men.  Men only seem to be in interested in delivering augmenting efforts to expand the hell I already live in.

But that's neither here nor there.


When I was younger, people used to tell me that I was pretty for a dark skinned girl all the time.  I wasn't particulary offended by it.  I was actually pleased by it.


For back in those days, I was self-conscious about my complexion.  I thought that being light skinned was step number one in being pretty.  And I wasn't aware that I was pretty back then either, so I thought I really needed the light skin to spill all over me and make me pretty.

So when people noticed my face, and told me I was pretty, it was elating.  I needed the reassurance.


Now that I am older, I would be insanely offended if someone said that to me.  I would have to take the time to explain why that is such a heinous way to think and tell them not to tell that to any dark skinned little girl they encountered.  Just tell her that she is pretty and leave it at that.


The problem of complexion among Black people around the world is amazingly sad.  White people and others who are not Black fall into it too, but I excuse them because they aren't Black.  What do they know about Black beauty?


But Black people?  I get disappointed.  How are we so thoroughly brainwashed into believing the White man's idea of beauty is better than our own?  The White Western standard of beauty is fine...if you are White.


And the origin of the complexion complex is so securely explained by slavery and colonization.  Those who were lighter skinned were more acceptable brands of Negro.  They made us think dark skin hideous.  We, Black people, think dark skin is hideous.


Even I, born in Africa to a beautiful African couple, have a complexion complex.  I love my dark skin now.  I love my soft, dark chocolate, even toned skin now.  But I will say that I am glad I am not darker than this.  And there are even times when I look at my body and wish my whole body was the same color as the lighter parts of my body where the sun don't shine.  And when I see people who are very dark skinned, I cringe for them, imagining the self-image issues they have wrestled with and the lack of reinforcement about their beauty.


Then I remind myself that I love myself, brown and dark brown portions.  And I remind myself I love my Black people, neurosis and all.

Nonetheless, I am so perplexed by my People.  It's almost as if we refuse to redefine Our standard of beauty.  We refuse to reject their standard of beauty.  There is absolutely nothing wrong with being as black as tar and there is nothing wrong with being white as snow (as long as you're Black).  So how did it happen that we look our brothers and sisters in their souls and tell them they are not beautiful?  That they are inadequate?


I just don't get it and it frustrates me even to talk about it.  I am unable to even discuss properly here because it's infuriating.  They abandoned slavery and they retired as colonizers but damn has the damage been done.  Black girls and boys in Africa killing themselves with bleaching cream to be what they cannot be.  Black girls and boys around the world living in large rooms of inadequacy, realizing the bleaching cream will never work.

For My Unborn Daughters

"What It Feels Like For a Girl" by Madonna

...do you know what it feels like for a girl / do you know what it feels like in this world / for a girl...

Of late, I have been running into conversations about gender, gender roles, gender discrimination, the changing rules of gender roles in the workforce, etc.

And of late, I have realized that I am a much bigger womanist than I thought.  These conversations are usually other womyn and apparently, I'm kind of a "feminazi".

Yes, I have been scorned and hell hath no fury like a womyn scorned especially me, because at this point, I would just cut yo a$$.

However, that is not why I'm a "feminazi".  My personal embitterment is miniscule, negligible, and unimportant compared to what womyn around the world face everyday under the oppression of hegemonic patriarchy.


I think my womanism was created and nourished by the relationship I have with my father.  My father was very protective, very doting, indulging, funny, encouraging, and had a lot of intellectual conversation with me.  

Never once was I made to feel that I had to participate in particular activities or act in a particular way because I was born a female.  My father always emphasized the importance of good character.  In African culture, that is what matters most in any person's existence.  Traditional African religion does not include things such as heaven and hell, because the punishment for doing bad things is to be forgotten about, ridiculed and disrespected in death.  You cannot be an ancestor, which is African equivalent of heaven.


For that reason, my parents have always encouraged me in anything I want to do that contributes to the world and the people in my community in a positive manner.


I was never too aware of the social significance my gender entailed until I was older and spent less time at home.  At home, I was protected.  I was my Daddy's brilliant, philanthropic, idealistic, wannabe world saving baby girl.  I had good ideas.  I had great arguments.  I had a serious sense of justice.  And I had a big heart.  At home, I was a star.


In the world, I was a girl...and inadequate.


But I don't buy it.  I don't buy that crap at all.  There is nothing I am not capable of because I am a womyn.  If I am not capable of something, it is because I don't want to, because I don't want to put the effort in, because I don't want to do the work.  But my cliche "destiny" is mostly up to me and not up to the reproductive machinery between my legs.


In conversations with different womyn from different socio-economic, educational, professional, religious, and political backgrounds, I have gathered that a lot of womyn do buy it.


And I don't understand.  How can a biological characteristic, determined when sperm meets egg and is influenced by nothing other than 1 chromosome, determine your life?  Get outta here.  Probability predicates success?  Get off my line.


I can't buy it.  If not for myself, then for my daughters.  I will never look into the eyes of my girl child and tell her that she has to cap her dreams, limit her goals, reduce her desires because she is a girl.


I am so glad that my Daddy never once looked into my eyes and told me that my dreams were lofty.  When he looked at me and I told him what I wanted to do with my life, he was not only proud of me but he convinced me that is possible, within my reach, and I was entitled to grab it.

But the world tells us girls the very opposites.  Get married, have babies.  Have more babies.  Be a grandmother.

I want to do those things, definitely.  But that would not totally be fulfilling.  I feel an obligation to the world, to leave better than I encountered it.  I can do that by raising conscientious, kind, generous, humble, and selfless African children.  But I can also do it by encouraging people in my community to do more with their lives, by showing them resources, by informing them how resourceful they themselves are.


And the womyn I talk to think that tradition should remain.  A woman should cook and clean and support and let her man be in charge.

I will cook and clean and support and let him think he's in charge, but not because I am a woman and that is my "place".  I will do these things because my husband will respect me as a human so much so that I will want to do these things.  I know that I am equal to him.  The safety of that equity will allow me to happily take care of my husband, not the obligation of my gender.




I watch the news, read articles, volunteer at schools and clinics, observe people on campus and at work, look to my mother and her sisters, and absorb all the difficulty of being a womyn in this world.  Even in this highly industrialized, capitalist democracy, women live under a roof of restrictions and are assigned characteristics based on their gender alone.


And when I think of womyn in Africa, my sweet Africa, that we identify with a feminine title [the Motherland], I wonder a million things.


From genital mutilation to strict societal rules governing womyn's activities, I just wonder why we are teaching our daughters to hate their femaleness.


I truly believe much of Africa remains backwards because of how we oppress womyn.  If womyn went to school, if womyn participated in politics, we could change the world.  When you educate a womyn, you simultaneously educate a community and generations to come.


Because, I will say, that womyn are socialized to be caretakers, empathetic.  We are socialized to care about more than just ourselves so we spread the wealth of knowledge in order to help others.  Oh Africa.  Let us send our daughters to school.

When I think of every little girl in the world...I think of them as me.  It was elation I felt when I told my father I want to be a lawyer and he would smile and tell me I would make such a good lawyer and he is already proud of me.


I just don't want any little girl or boy to suffer.  Tell the boys they are awesome and give them all they need to stay that way.  And tell the girls they are awesome and to ignore the world's lies that they are not.

By Any Means Necessary

When the first baby's skin rotted off her head
We should have known that the revolutionary cries were dead.

When the smell of rotting vessels rose to God in heaven
The missing Black girls were at a count of eleven
And God's children ignored the noses on their heads
We should have known the the revolutionary cries were dead.

Who came to the door to check on this man
Who could do such heinous things with his bare hands
To the body of some poor Black woman's baby?

And when they came to the door and knocked with their hands
Did they not see with their eyes what had happened to the land?

When bodies decorate the lawn of a home owned by a man
Whose mind has long departed
To whom also falls the blame for this man's action, living alone
And conspicuously unguarded?

Why, my goodness, do these Black girls learn love so hard?
Death is the only thing that outdoes the heavily scarred.
And even in death, my love, we shall not matter.
But with this poem and this life, I vow to shatter...

The silence, the silence that surrounds our screams
The silence, the silence that confounds our dreams.

And lest another one of us falls and dies
I replace my complacency with revolutionary cries.

I Accept

I cut off all my hair.

I cut off all my permed hair.

I took out the braids I had (featured here) and washed my hair. I had it done when I was in New Orleans at a small shop. Two ladies braided my hair and I really did love it.

However, when Shahedah and I were taking it out, I started to notice that my hair was hella short. I haven't had a perm since March or April, so of course some of my hair has gone curly and it has shrunken, but dis bin pasmak (this was bad).

After we (mostly Shahedah because I fell asleep on the floor, head in her lap) took out about 3/4 of the braids, Shahedah and I realized that the fools who braided my hair stopped and tied it before my real hair had been completely braided in. So when we were cutting the loose ends of the braids, we were also cutting off about an inch and a half of my real hair.

When all the braids were out, I had this cute, sort of long fro beaming out of my head. I did think it was cute. I sprayed in some detangler (which worked like a Miracle) and combed out my hair. After all the dead hair was out, I washed it twice (because it was mad dirty...I only washed my braids once). Then I conditioned it, although no adequately.

Then my hair shrunk even more into a slightly shorter afro with permed hairs sticking out like Black people at a clan meeting.

My aunt asked me if I want to just cut the "stray hairs" off and have my afro of all natural hair. Without hesitation, I jumped up to say yes and got her some scissors. She trimmed my hair and I thought about other things, like sushi dinner we were going to that night.

A few minutes later I stood up to look in the mirror at this totally different girl. Of course I looked different but that's not what I mean. It is hard to explain but I was a different girl.

I think that something has to happen in you, as a Black woman, to go natural. We love our silky wraps, and turning our heads like the White girls. I used to be so frustrated that my hair didn't toss like the White girls I went to elementary school with in Wisconsin. But Auntie Rugie did put beads in my hair which is the dopest hair style ever.

So I cut it all off. Left was about 2 inches of natural new growth that shall never know the feeling of a relaxer. My Auntie Teresa stopped by my Auntie Rugie's house and asked my why I did it. She was like "Why did you cut off all that beautiful hair? You used to have such nice hair!"

Looking at her with her super shiny perm, I know she thought my hair was hideous. Short and "nappy", no movement and no perm.

And a lot of people will think that if not say that. That my hair used to be pretty, that I looked better before, that it doesn't look professional.

I think it is so sad. This is the hair that I was born with. These are the genes I was given by my mother, by my grandmother, by my great grandmothers. This is my hair.

I am not my hair. Remember when India said that? I loved that song but it didn't mean then what it means now.

I did feel, for a minute, less pretty when I looked at my shrunken afro, without shine, without length. Obviously, although I recognized that the White aesthetic is the right aesthetic is a fraud perpetuated by many the many vehicles through which culture is imparted, I still bought it and ate it like a last meal.

For now, I'm going to keep my hair in braids until my natural hair is of a more suitable length. I have a shrunken head, so these 2 inches of hair ain't enough. A few more inches will give the appearance of a larger head to match this gargantuan intellect, giant mouth, and an infinitely giving heart.

I'll keep you posted on the developments of life after a relaxer. I accept this challenge. It's a challenge.

I spelled "gargantuan" without having to look it up. I looked up afterwards. Dope huh?

No Mixed Babies Please

"Black Butterfly" by Deniece Williams

...you've survived, now your moment has arrived / now your dream has finally been born...

I don't know why, but I decided to look up some information about the Roe v. Wade case. I read a about it as I have several times, and can't understand why it is such an issue in this country. If you think abortions are wrong, don't have one. But I will save my opinion for another entry.

Anyway, the thing that struck me in the article was about the opinions of presidents since Nixon. Nixon was president during the court case and didn't say anything publicly. However, records of private conversations reveal that Nixon thought there were times in which abortion was necessary. He is heard saying to an aide that "There are times when an abortion is necessary. I know that. When you have a black and a white or a rape."

By that he mean interracial babies should be aborted. All I could say was Wow. But it is Richard Nixon. Should I be surprised?
George H. W. Bush supported abortion rights
Presidents Henry Ford, Ronald Reagan, and George W. Bush opposed abortion. Jimmy Carter, Bill Clinton, and , although Bush in his early political career before he was elected president (still can't believe that happened). But it is remarkable nonetheless.

Ronald Reagan legalized abortion in California in 1967, six years before the Supreme Court decision. What a useless man.

Amazing. Abortion is immoral and wrong, except if the baby is mixed with Black. White people are funny.

May I Have A Word With You?

"Cruisin'" by Smokie Robinson

...baby let's cruise, away from here / don't be confused, the way is clear...

I am watching the movie "The Express". It's about the Syracuse University football team of the 1950s with two African American players on it. Oh yes, two Black players in the midst of the notorious American social revolution.

The scene I just saw motivated me to write. The two Black players discover two Black girls, one who attends the college and the other her friend visiting from Cornell. The two players walk over to the table at which the ladies are sitting and introduce themselves in such a cordial, respectful, sophisticated manner.

I wondered, "Where have those kind of manners gone?" Initially, I wanted to say what happened to Black people, to Black men that the kind of cordiality I just saw in that scene? Then I reassessed and I think all of American culture is less respectful, or so it seems. Maybe the greetings and exchanges of yesteryear were too artful, too decorated, too much and we have just consolidated all the words into a few pleasant grunts and sorry waves. I don't know.

But Lord was I blown away. I wish our Black men still believed in our wonder and trusted our love like it seems they used to. I am unsure of what happened to Black culture and American culture in general, but women are far more objectified now than when they were actually objects...nothing but housewives waiting for children and husbands to return home from their lives in the world.

The disrespect I encounter from my men, my Black men out in the world is aggravating and saddening at the same time. Those men out there, those Black men out there, should see their mothers, their sisters, their aunts, their grandmothers when they see me, when they see any Black girl. Because I am or will be all of those things to someone. On that account, they should treat me with the respect we Black women wish for our Black men.

Can you believe this picture I found on Google? I can't either. Copy that joint to your desktop as evidence of the bull.

Boobie Traps

"Boom Boom Pow" by Black Eyed Peas

...I'm so 3008 / you so 2000 and late...

Immigrants. It is some hard, sad stuff to be an immigrant. On Sunday night, I went to my best friend, Ravi's house for a inner party that his parents threw and invited me to. I was conversing with my other best friend, Forrest's father about what I want to do with my professional life and going back home to Sierra Leone after earning my degrees, my family's experience as immigrants, etc.

I haven't always been too proud of being African, but as I have gotten older, I have been more and more and more proud of my nationality, my culture, my language, and all that.'

However, it is a very, very hard, sad, and alienating experience sometimes. The United States is a wonderful country in that one has civil liberties people don't even fantasize about elsewhere and one has the opportunity to succeed in a way that is not possible in other places of the world (some social and economic inequities aside).

It is also hard to be a person of color in this country, even if you are "American". The hyphenated populations (African-, Asian-, Hispanic-Americans, etc.) are separated from "Americans" (=White Americans) by their prefix. They are somehow American, but not categorically so. The hyphen is almost a condition of being able to be called American if you are not White. You can call yourself American, but you must identify the kind of American you are, almost as if you are not as American as those without a hyphen. It is a difficult middle passage to navigate.

The issue of race in this country is especially peculiar, no? There is a social segregation that is unaddressed and there are White people in positions of power trying to maintain that segregation. Additionally, some White people seem antagonistic about immigrants and racial minorities, despite the fact that the United States is a product of a tradition of immigration and diversity.

So, I am driving my Auntie Kadiatu down to Short Pump to shop for some things for her trip back home to Sierra Leone. As we merge onto Broad Street, my Aunt says, "I am an American-American". I look at her and ask "What?" and she points to a white pick-up truck ahead of us.

Sigh. First of all, what the hell is that even supposed to mean? I am an American-American. Clearly, this is a disrespectful reference to the hyphenated Americans, no?

I am not even really sure what to say about this other than it pissed me off. The majority (hate to say it but...White people) made sure to categorize the "non-Whites" (this is also a ridiculous term...to qualify people by what they are not...let us call men "non-women" from now on). They provided the terms African-American, Chinese-American, Japanese-American, Mexican-American, etc. to distinguish themselves, as White people, from anybody else that comes here.

How did they provide these terms? Basically by making it mighty hard to assimilate into Whiteness, even if you want to because visually, you [colored folks] can never be White.

So why are you upset about these categories of colored Americans? Are you better because your "American" isn't hyphenated? Are you special? If by special you mean stupid, useless, purposeless, ignorant, and a maggot on the dying flesh of civilization, then yes my man, you are so damn special.

If We Never Try

"Bonnie & Shyne" by Shyne

...Then we drivin' to the sunset / Pull over, get up on the hood ma I ain't done yet...

Since Ash Wednesday, I have been devotedly working out as a part of my Lent promise and this "change" in my life. I have been telling myself all this year that I would work out but I could not find the time to start.

I realized, literally the day before Ash Wednesday, that Lent was to
begin. I took that as a sign to commence my new lifestyle.

And I have been really happy with myself and really happy with the preliminary results of my body.

However, my hair is taking a beating. I am a Black girl who is currently sporting a permed bob haircut. I permed my hair almost three weeks ago. The first 2 weeks were without any issue. I had the comfort and confidence of a fresh perm, styled, bouncy, and shiny.

And then I started working out. I thought it would be a good idea to put it in a wrap while I worked out, but I have read that I shouldn't have done that. It basically allows for my hair to soak from root to tip.

I am a Black girl. I can't wash my hair after every workout without risking serious damage (and ain't nothin' worse than a queen without her crown). So I was scouring the internet for remedies against "sweating out a perm". I found some articles and blogs with tips about how to wear one's hair during exercise and what to do with it following an exercise session.

Then I came across more articles about how the tediousness that is doing Black hair keeps many Black women from working out. At first, even as a Black woman, I was thinking that it was kind of shallow. But then I thought about the abuse my hair is enduring from working out everyday (on top of that, I erroneously thought it would be more convenient to blow dry the sweat out of my hair following a workout).

I thought about how I feel less presentable each day as my hair seems to progressively lose the shine. I can't wear it down anymore because there is no curl or wrap to speak of. I'm just so sad about my hair.

It just makes me wonder what we are supposed to do? We have to work out. We sit in cars and trains and buses almost all the time and must find more calculated ways to exercise since our lifestyles have been made so much easier by technology. But what about my crown of glory?

It seems like a silly concern, a stupid question, or a shallow worry but with the rate of heart disease, diabetes, hypertension, and the ilk, it suddenly becomes a serious conversation. A lot of Black women are not working out for the sake of their pride and joy: their hair.

I don't have an answer or a suggestion or anything. I just think it is something interesting that I have only now considered. Oh, the facets of being Blac.

The Real Terrorists

"If You Leave" by Musiq feat. MJB

...you think I'm so full of it, full of it / I think I'm just fed up...

Right on time, Richard Cheney.

I was watching the news this late evening (after an exhaustively exciting day that I shall recount in Magic Woman, The Working Definition, and all up in through here) and caught a glimpse of Anderson Cooper's (mmm...good) interview with President Obama.

The interview was juxtaposed with some soundbites from former Vice President Cheney. He explicitly said that the policies of Bush's administration, like the Patriot Act, kept terrorists at bay and the US safe from attack.

Not to long ago, I published a blog about the terrorist "attackless" years we've had since 2001 (in the US). I wondered if it was a function of chance or of the Bush administration's policies specifically meant to impede the progress of American destruction by international and domestic terrorists.

Cheney has answered me, directly son. He said that America has not been attacked because of the Bush policies. He elaborated to say that the books will show this fact. Files from the Bush administration will support his claim that Bush and his administration made us safer.

Cooper asked a guest on his show, following Obama's interview, about the enemies that the Iraq "War" has earned us and how they factor in to this idea of America being safer.

And that is a good question. What relationship do these new enemies, born of the invasion of Iraq, have with our safety?

I'm still on my friend's bandwagon that this "war" on terrorism has been a failure, considering it in a global sense, which is how we should consider it. What happened in Madrid and Glasgow and more is possible here. Therefore, we are not "safer" considering the global circumstances.

Adjunct to his claim that the policies kept us safe, Cheney was spewing some vitriol to and about the Obama administration. He seemed upset that Obama had some admonishments for the way Bush and his administration handled foreign affairs.

What kind of poor taste is that, as the former Vice President, to tactlessly and defensively attack the current administration?

He criticized Obama for wanting to "talk nice" to the terrorists. Obama hasn't answered him. Hopefully he knows not to dignify that with an answer.

Since you just left the office of the most stressful job ever, should you not consider him (Obama) as a political brother in this fraternity that is American government? Even if your ideals are different and your politics are not parallel, the ultimate goal is to improve and upkeep America, so whatchu mad fa? You are not VP anymore and it would be great to offer support and suggestion and not criticism and callus commentary. Idiot.

Because

"St. Patrick's Day" by John Mayer

...come January, we're frozen inside / February, won't you be my valentine? / and we'll both be safe 'til St. Patrick's Day...

Rush Limbaugh said that he hopes Obama fails. And he also said that we are supposed to "bend over and grab our ankles," be excited for him and our country because his father was African and he is our nation's first Black president.

Yes, Rush, we should all be happy because the slaves are free and ruling the country.

This comment is conspicuously racist and I hope that no one needs an explanation as to why this comment is racist.

The momentum of excitement about the historical significance of Obama's election is wholly separate from why we should support our president.

This is a time of unprecedented economic distress around the world and not just in the United States. This is a time of escalating political and social unrests in many countries. Sh*t is about to get real. If you disagree with Obama's policies, cool, but do not belittle his job as the leader of the free world in a time when that free world is very vulnerable.

If anyone had said this about Bush, he would have been branded as unpatriotic. Remember when Michelle said that for the first time in her life, she was proud to be an American? Oh, aight.

Rush, you are unpatriotic and racist.

And Elisabeth Hasselbeck on The View: I struggle not to hate you personally. It was so annoying how you tried to defend Rush on the show. To boot, you said that many people wished for Bush to fail. That, I would have to disagree with.

Bush was a failure by himself without the wishes of anyone. Both of his terms were disastrous for the country. He failed. No one wanted him to fail. We just knew, especially the second go around, that he would. And if you thought it was wrong for people to wish Bush failure, is it not wrong here in this instance? Or are we on that tit-for-tat business?

Uptown Conjecture

I meant to write this blog A LONG TIME AGO but I never got around to it. And since Bush has left office...I don't know.

I often hear on the news how America is "safer", as we have had no attacks since the tragedies of September 11th. Along with that statement is often a claim that Bush doesn't get enough credit for that and his other blunders are too heavily focused on.

Then I would wonder, can we really attribute that to Bush? What did Bush do specifically in policy and diplomatic efforts that made it more difficult to attack the US? I texted 3 politically aware and opinionated friends over winter break asking if they thought that things were "safer" and can it be attributed to Bush or is it just a function of chance?

My first friend said that no one can be sure of that but he thinks that the war on terrorism is an epic failure and listed the attacks in London, Glasgow, Madrid, and Mumbai. I thought that was interesting because here I am (and the media too) considering the war on terrorism as the US versus "them". But terrorism is a worldwide concern and terrorists can attack anywhere. So if some are not safe, none are safe, right?

My second friend said "Well being that [Bush's] administration orchestrated 9/11, I'd have to say its a function of chance." I love that girl. I'm not gonna lie, the conspiracy theory of 9/11 being an "inside job" is quite compelling.

My last friend said that the "Bush administration is actually intimidating, believe it or not." So maybe Bush's hasty decision to bomb Afghanistan after the attacks and hastier decision to commence a war in Iraq made America seem like a force to be reckoned with. Therefore terrorists have thought twice about committing acts of violence against this nation. As much as I respect this last friend's intelligence and opinion, this, I cannot buy.

1) Terrorism is a global concern and just because the US hasn't suffered any attacks doesn't mean the "war on terrorism" is going well. 2) It was an "inside job" and we really didn't need to worry about terrorism any more than we have had to in the past. 3) Bush's administration, however one may disagree with policy and action, has put a hamper on terrorist activities with their strong military response.

I wonder what you think. I must say that I subscribe to number 1. Why even evaluate "our" safety if the rest of the world remains vulnerable?

Valēre

Over winter loafing, one of my favorite activities was going to the movies. I saw 7 Pounds, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, and Valkyrie, all of which broke my heart to pieces in their different ways.

However, Valkyrie struck me in a very different way than the other aforementioned movies because: 1) I love history and it interesting to learn how civilization changes and remains the same, and 2) it is a movie about a momentous historical and sociological moment in time (1944), as the US (and consequently the rest of the world) enters into a moment of similar magnitude, although far more positive in nature.

It was an effulgent film. And, for me, I do not know if it was the acting or costumes or the dialogue that made it great. And maybe it was. Possibly because I am already an avid student of history, an emotional, empathetic, pacifist who still can't believe the Holocaust happened (that such evil exists is nightmarish), and because I cannot easily separate fantasy from reality and am easily convinced that I, too, am in the film, the movie carried me away.

First of all, can you imagine living in a place where the government could round you up and murder you with no questions asked and no one to stop them? And this government is highly efficient and organized, soulless, convincing, charming, and considered as omniscient as God Himself.

I shall not recount the movie here because it is far to exquisite for my lame synopsis, but it made me think quite interesting things about Israel, the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, government, politics, and God.

For one, the Operation Valkyrie (Unternehmen Walküre), for which the movie is named was a plan of action approved by Adolf Hitler to restore law and order in Germany in the event of his death. These plans, if followed correctly, would restore Adolf Hitler's government within 6 hours.

Dead or alive, Hitler was going to get all of the Jews he could.

For the duration of the movie, with the nauseating stench or murder and evil slapping me around in my head, I understood why Israel came to be created. Not only were the Jews being systematically exterminated, the world (Allied Forces) did not intervene for quite some time. Adolf Hitler and his regime managed to kill six million Jews before it was all over and further defer the dream of world peace so as to push it farther into the depths of rottinghood.

I will say it, cautiously but honestly: I do not support Israel. I do not think it should have been created but especially not in the manner that it was.

But if you know the history of Israel's creation, it does leave a strange taste in one's mouth. Anyone with a soul appreciates the atrocities of the Holocaust (and the atrocity that was the Holocaust) and the shocking lethargy of the rest of the world to act but, it provokes a question. Of all the atrocities that have occured since men discovered weapons, what makes the Holocaust so much more atrocious so as to create a brand new country?

And why did not anyone think to sit down and meet with Palestinian leaders and have a discourse to reach compromise if they wanted this state so badly?

And who the hell is Great Britain to assure support of a Jewish state? Should they not have encouraged them to consult their potential neighbors?

I have no question for the United States as it sort of proved to be a lackadaisical in its foreign policy.

The Palestinian-Israeli conflict makes me think that government is feckless and its efficacy is a function of chance. While children of both sides die in the streets everyday, governments all around the world, in over 50 years, have yet to make peace between the two sides. Maybe they should let all the Palestinian mothers and the Israeli mothers meet and share the stories of their dead children, who died for reasons they were not born yet to contribute to, not old enough to understand, and died before they could have possibly contributed to steps toward peace.

This "new generation" of minds who may end this conflict is slowly diminishing everyday, with their graves outnumbering their toys.

The Revolution Will Be Televised

"Lift Every Voice and Sing"

...God of our weary years, god of our silent tears, thou, who has brought us thus far along the way, thou, who has by thy might led us into the light, keep us forever in the path we pray, lest our feet stray from the places, our god, where we met thee, lest our hearts, drunk with the wine of the world, we forget thee.
Shadowed beneath thy hand, may we forever stand true to thee, oh God, and true to our native land...

At 12:01pm this afternoon, Barack Hussein Obama became the president of the United States of America. Although the program was running a little late and he had not been officially sworn in yet, the Constitution reads that the new president assumes his title at 12:01pm on Inauguration Day.

The benediction was provided by Reverend Joseph Lowery, the founding memeber of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference (SCLC). He began with some beautiful lines from "Life Every Voice and Sing," a song written by James Weldon Johnson and proudly referred to as the Black National Anthem. You betta do that.

It was a brilliant and exciting ceremony as members of Congress, former presidents, their wives, children, and more were introduced. When President Obama was finally introduced, there was an electricity that I'm sure swept through the crowd and shocked us watching at home. Congratulations President Obama and Vice President Biden.

President Obama gave a wonderful speech, as he always does. This speech, however, was especially exceptional because of the manner in which the President reached out to the international community. He demonstrated the kind of global concern I think the Bush administration forgot about.

President Obama informed us that his administration would take a new course in negotiating with the Muslim world. He has not given up on peace in the Middle East. He promised the nations living in abject poverty that the United States would assist in agricultural efforts that will sustain the people and provide clean water for every man, woman, and child.

He told the US and other Western nations that enjoy relative wealth that they can no longer "afford indifference to suffering" around the world or consume the world's resources while irreverent to the global consequence. He condemned leaders who continue to destroy, deceive, take advantage of, silence, and murder their own people. They are on "the wrong side of history".

Some complained that President Barack Obama's speech was a superfluous display of word art and outlined no real policy on how his administration plans to do all that he spoke of. Maybe that is true. But was it the time for policy talk? On this day of great sociological and historical importance, do we really want him to stand up there in front of people who have been outside in the DC winter cold since 4am and talk about policy?

As the first Black president, standing on the platform of a building built by slaves, cleaned and repaired by slaves, all the while counting them as only 3/5 of a person in the Constitution that we depend on to define and maintain our democracy, can we please excuse him for not including policy in his speech? He is trying to unify a country ragged and battered by racial conflict, religious disagreement, bitter history, political fighting, etc. in order to more positively contribute to the improvement of the world. He has four years to deal with policy.

The backdrop (for me) of this historic day was the departure of Former President George Bush. President Obama was very gracious in thanking Former President Bush for his service to our country, but the speech he delivered also did not lightly rebuke the irresponsible actions of America under the Bush administration. The Bush administration was a disastrous and devastating one for many in a personal way, not in a removed, political ideological manner. I was excited to see him go.

As CNN juxtaposed Bush's departure with Obama's arrival, a correspondent commented that this is the purest day of American democracy. And it is. This outstanding peaceful transition of power is something to be admired. No matter how vehemently some may disagree with President Obama's election or any president's election, we enthusiastically and ritualistically change our head of state with little to no trouble. God bless America. And God, make it possible for other countries around the world to enjoy the nourishing meal of peace.

The Revolution has been televised.

Square Business

"God is Trying to Tell You Something"

...Speak Lord / Speak to me...

Tomorrow, the world will watch Barack Obama be sworn into the office of the President of the United States. He is the first Black president in the history of US democracy.

The coverage of Obama, his family, his campaign, his impending inauguration, his everything, is ridiculous. He is such a huge celebrity the world over.

Although I am young, I accurately assume that no inauguration or president has stirred this kind of buzz, media coverage, or excitement.

It isn't arbitrary and I understand the media hype: this is a Black man becoming president of a country with a heinous history of slavery, Jim Crow laws, Ku Klux Klan terrorism, and more. It is amazing.

To add to the majesty of the event, we are observing Martin Luther King, Jr.'s birthday (b. January 15, 1929) this Monday, this day before this historic inauguration. It seems so poetic. This man who spoke on behalf of the ideas of equality and justice, unity and acceptance for us was a part of a movement that tilled the soil of our culture with a seed of progress and open mindedness.

Martin Luther King, Jr.'s dream has not totally been realized. However, there is something to be said for the enormity of this occassion and how Obama's election serves as a barometer for how far we have come. We are almost free at last.

We are free of some of the institutional hindrances. We are free from some of our own cultural poisons. We are free from the glass ceiling. What a sensational time.

I don't have any children yet, but I can't wait to tell them, especially my boys, that God is trying to tell us something.