Thursday, December 10, 2009

How to get your seatmates into 1st class - A guide.

We will skip the long drawn out colorful descriptions of my elderly, beautiful Mexican (who had to use the double cane thing) seat mate and the 16 or 17 year old boy who was miserably stuck between us instead of sitting in the back with his family (read: his brothers and sisters who were the same age as him and, frankly, willing to carry on a conversation instead of grunting before they slid on their eye masks, ear plugs and other sundries to block out all signs of life...)

Yes, let's just jump into this. Right in the middle, shall we? Let start at the moment that I looked down on the beautiful brand new gray cowl necked sweater and noted that of all things I never expected to see was a huge red blob of throw-up on it as my first ha-looo bonjour to France.....

Yes, your's truly got sick on the plane after convincing herself that it was okay to have the beef -- I mean this is a European country right? -- and on top of that throw on the free, yes free, red wine. I drifted off after a gut deep laugh fest that is the act of watching "The Hangover" which I need to see again in the right frame of mind....I woke up to a very familiar, yet dreaded sensation....there was a cold sweat on my forehead and gentle waves of revulsion working their way from some ephemeral point in my stomach that I'm sure had some of that beef in charmoise sauce somewhere near it. So I woke up and began taking deep breathes hoping it would go away...I don't think there was anywhere 'convienent' to land in the middle of the ocean...And let me say this if their healthcare is anything close to the crazy efficiency with which they took care of the situation -- I'm moving. So the boy realized I wasn't making to the bathroom faster than I did, and before I knew it I was laying across 2300 bucks worth of seats with my head on the floor with the "I need to leave church early finger up" trying to get them to stop asking me questions for just a second.

I'm fine. I certainly got my full dollar out of those attendants, one was fanning me, another bringing me water....its almost funny -- no, the truth is that it is not funny at all. Seriously. Finally the really pretty goes...why don't you just go take care of this in the bathroom -- and thats my first cognizant memory of Gay Parie -- gray sweater, red blobs, and my finger down my throat.

Wednesday, December 9, 2009

And so it begins....

Yay to windows seats!! If only you could see how full this plane is and the (clears throat) melange of ... well, smells that are brought out by minimal air conditioning, a thin steel tube that is the plane and the nuclear strength stench that is encased underneath the home erectus' arm pit! Ugh! I should have splurged on the 16$ wine... and great I have no idea what the pilot is saying right now...
Adieu

Tuesday, December 8, 2009

Abortion Rights

If you haven't done anything as brave and proactive as writing a letter to your senator, like my friend Nancy, about your anger at the the conservative movements' attempt to limit womens' ability to control their own bodies -- then take your busy behind and click on the link and help add your voice to the masses over at Plan Parenthood! Then copy the link, email it to everyone you know and tell them to do it and then tell them to tell their friends as well.

http://www.ppaction.org/campaign/hcr09foc_pporg?qp_source=hcr09foc_afc3

We will not loose our freedom to say when, where and what happens to our bodies -- not on our watch!!!Dam it.

Monday, December 7, 2009

a quizzical question....

what if women (all sexualities) used their political power the way that the gay community uses theirs?

you're procrastination anyway -- click on the link, go ahead, click it....

http://www.salon.com/life/feature/story/index.html?story=/mwt/feature/2009/12/01/hirshman_women_gay_movement

i know right?

Friday, December 4, 2009

WTF****

So...
you know how google puts up ads in any tiny corner they can find to bring in more revenue to continue to secure their bohemoth identity? Well they looked over my blog entries and decided that I needed to see this one:

Black Women White Men
Specialists in Black White Dating Lifetime Profile, Free Chat Rooms
AfroRomance.com

uh. AFRO??? really?? afro...right. uhm. I, uhm, I guess plopping that on my screen is funny... I thought I was free of the "so who are you dating now? (aka dan sure would love some kids) and how come you and aiesha aren't with anyone conversation and you know I do weddings...." until next thanksgiving. Now my computer is judging me!!! seriously??!!!!

Hilarious I tell you. Hilarious.

Anyway, a bit of fun for the weekend....naked mole rats -- I'm down.

http://www.salon.com/life/broadsheet/feature/2009/12/03/cheetahs_vs_cougars

Wednesday, October 14, 2009

Chris' Good Hair: Removing of black womens skirts...

I finally got to see Good Hair.

I have been waiting, not anxiously, but with trepidation for its (early) release this week in NYC. I enjoyed watching the massive press junket, The View, his friend 'the Oprah' etc. He was funny and didn't awkwardly avoid the race conversation inherent in the subject. There was a great moment when he had to settle a pseudo-argument between Whoopi and Barbara about whether black women relax their hair because they are trying to be European or not...he cleverly agreed with both - and the voices in his film do the same.

So the film...

There were these odd meta-moments in my head when I wanted to view the film from the eyes and minds of the various (numerous) white and Asian folks (unattended by their blacks no less!) that were in attendance. But the film was such an internal letter to black women that I couldn’t keep that lens on as I normally do -- my de-facto feminist defender warrior who is always prepared, always ready and always wary of these topics was enjoying the film. Smile.

There were so many moments when I heard the black women at the back of theatre, at the front, and next to me laugh in unison and recognition (embarrassment?) at the common lived experiences {the weave tumbleweed scurrying down 125th street). We shook our collective heads at learning the affects of Sodium Glycolate on our little girl's hair, our scalps and hair follicles and especially at the transparent soda can accompanied by the white scientist's taken back that there was a group of people who actual applied this toxin to their scalps.

There was a super uncomfortable moment when Chris postulated (a pseudo joke) that the reason we, blacks, lack intimacy in our relationships is because our men can't touch our hair... (wait wait there is more)

The barbershop men then talked about how that leads, some of them, to prefer white women, who are more free and willing to do more things...

I know (eyebrow raised, head cocked, heart hurt). To be fair, there was a young man at the back of the group of old, unattractive and overweight men who disagreed with them quite energetically. I haven’t digested that particular issue as of yet. You guys know I’m a forest, not the trees, person.

As I sat on the local A train, headed home after saying bye to my home girl, I finally could digest this odd moment from the live Friday Oprah show. There was a youngish woman in a pretty blue suit that stood up and said that she was angry at Chris for telling our secrets. Chris told her that he was not R. Kelly and had never been known to disrespect anyone. Then he stated a common Oprahism – secrets will rot your soul. That this, the money we spent, the attention we pay, the fakery for beauty, the negative affect on the self-esteem of his daughter, needs to be brought to the forefront so……well, upon reflection I realized, he didn’t say what we should do now that it was out there – and in that lack of a completed purpose/thought lies the rub.

The point:

Chris was wrong for making this movie. There is rule in the Gay community, of which I have been an ally to even before I knew any Gay people because of this very issue*; the rule is that you do not out a member – ever. Revelation is a personal choice that does have serious consequences. This means that even though the movie was chock full of black women telling secrets about hair – they were sharing ALL of our secrets not just their own and thus should not have made the decision to OUT all of us – especially from their positions of power and economic freedom**.

Let’s make this more personal. I live with white people now and I am super self-conscious about revealing my hair shit. When I wash my hair I still make extra sure not to leave my nappy curling balls of hair for anyone to see. I tried to take my braids out in peace and had to force my self to stay put when my white male roommate came home early – but inside I was mortified. The last thing I ever wanted was to allow the eyes of the world to glaze on the half braided scalps of black women trying to fit in to keep their jobs, be more attractive to men who prioritize the long and silky or trying to cover their bald and alopecia affected scalps.

Why does the world continue to stare under our skirts? Why must we always be the "Venus Hottentot" (for info see end of para) glazed at by the 'other' in a museum? Chris, innocently I think, pulled away our skirts and ‘outted’ us without our permission and for what purpose?
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saartjie_Baartman

Yes Chris, secrets should be brought to the forefront but this wasn’t your secret to tell. It was ours and you have done badly. Bad Chris.

* interesting quotes…
K. Steffans – I don’t know how the average woman pays for these
Salt – I spend 200,000 a year
Rock – You have a weave layaway plan!!!

**
I’m an ally because people who are consenting adults can do what they like, it is a PERSONAL activity that hurts no one and is none of governments business. Also because we have separation of church and state and my Christianity should not run your life – that’s just frickin logical you know???

Friday, August 14, 2009

That extra something...

Y'all remember me saying that we should not be surprised if Obama does not win? I recall saying that the combination of the soft hidden racists in the majority (my friends ack*?) and the hard concentrated racists would prevent it? Well I was wrong --

I learned that my friends aren't as racist as I thought they were...but those hardcore bastards are not playing around are they?Obviously the fervor surrounding the Presidents agenda and his health care bill in particular can not be simplified to just race -- obviously class/big business and is right up there at the top but the nastiness and (mild) violence (i.e the town hall meetings etc) of late really have me believing that the wild west denial in the face of all logical fact (death meetings....really? euthanasia....really?)has got to be that extra seasoning of black in the white house...

anyway...
Paul does it better...with citation and shit...
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/08/14/opinion/14krugman.html?em

Monday, July 13, 2009

The Sotomayor Hearings...real quick..

God I wish were home to watch this myself, but I'm stuck partially working and reading the live blogging with nytimes.com -- at least I have that...

I restate this with hilarity because you'll see the irony right away...

From the laughable Sen. Sessions:

“Like the American people I have watched this process for a number of years,” he said, “and I fear this empathy standards is another step down the road to a liberal activist, results-oriented and relativistic world where – laws lose their fixed meaning, unelected judges set policy; Americans are seen as members of separate groups rather than simply Americans, and where the constitutional limits on government power are ignored when politicians want to buy out private companies. …."

While that quote is full of jaw dropping irony -- I, simplistically (sorry it's Monday morning), think its laugh out loud funny that he thinks we think that he considers us all Americans and not part of the group.

Really? We are all just god fearing neighborhood loving friendly Americans to you Mr. Sessions?!?

I'm not buying it.

It burns my tithers when folks claim "we're all Americans" in the effort to keep a member of a minority group from power......really it burns them to dust...

[Oh oh before I forget -- don't know whats going on? Sharkfoo has this really cool explanation of the players...]

Monday, June 8, 2009

Siiiiiiigh...

I awoke to my radio alarm this morning. I stretched my hands up over my head and pointed my toes -- happy to awaken another day...well...

Actually, I opened one eye grudgingly, and with misplaced anger at an inanimate object, glared at my clock radio. I tried to pretend that I could go back to sleep with the music blaring and turned my, now closed, eye away from the morning sun. It was then that I realized that it was not the normal "sophisticated and uppity concerned for the world on my way to work through Columbus circle" NPR morning radio that I was used to but the brand new Drake colabo...

Who changed the station on my radio?!?

I was kinda grooving because my brain was still thinking this might be one of the times that NPR reaches out to the rest of the world and interviews a hiphop artist..it does happen...occasionally. But then the song was over and the morning personality's gruff voice began to reminisce about the Hot 97 summer jam concert that was the 'ish last night. He brought Jadakiss on to introduce the interview that they had recorded the previous night by singing the verse to his new jam. I can't remember it all but this line stuck with me...never believe a chick over a dude. Possibly innocuous...uhm innocuous in no sense of the word. Ugh. I am so weary. Can the lack of further explanation convey how tired I am of the sexism??

Had it not been blank thirty in the morning my defenses would have been up and I would have shook my head and ignored it but alas - I was raw, me with no filter, defense, protection and I was pissed. The sexism was so present and quietly violent and more at home than even I was. It seems to me that in the hiphop world I am a 'frickin' visitor and sexism is at home. I was the only one walking around angry, everyone else is cool with it. Dismissing it. Ignoring it. Comfortable with it. It's my angry ass that everyone is looking at wondering what the hell is wrong with me. It's me who should be at home and safe not the whose neck is jerking in anticipation for the next assault on my femininity -- sexism is fine and finds little, if any, threats to itself -- I'm sure it sleeps much more soundly than I do, confident in it's continued existence. I however, suspect that should I get too loud, too convincing, too masculine? I will be asked to leave.

Sigh. So now a woman's, I'm sorry "chick's", word is always to be suspect when it differs from the man's. Sigh. Really people? We really don't see the parallels here? That doesn't sound like it was snatched straight from the racism tome of precepts? No? Or is it just that black masculinity in some quarters is staunchly wedded to sexism? Well, you know how I feel today and thus I am weary and tired and sometimes I just wanna go home and be safe and know that I am welcomed and loved and, most of all, trusted.

I think I better remember to change the station on my radio before I go to sleep. I can't keep waking up angry every morning -- I might hurt someone.

Oh and boy am I pissed that black police officers in NYC are going to have to get specially made guns so that they won't be accidentally shot -- to death -- by their fellow police officers...

WHAT???!!! THE ???!!!??? FUCK?????!!!!! (excuse my language -- it was called for)

Sunday, May 24, 2009

Segregation 2009...that's right, 2009.

Hey folks,

Don't let your privilege let you forget that this is still the status quo....and not just down south.