Stinkin' James Earl Jones!

So, here it is, the Stinkin' James Earl Jones story.

About 1/2 an hour from Lincoln is a small town called Crete. In Crete they have a small liberal arts college called Doane. Now Doane college is nice. It's in a beautiful location, and the perfect place for small towners to go to school with all their friends that they've known forever. The problem with that is Doane, while sufficient in its educational merits, is severely lacking in the cultural arts department.

And why shouldn't it be? You can count on one hand the number of black students there, and they're pretty much just chillin, but Doane insists they want to be more open to others, and thus they have a plethora of various excursions dedicated to educating the masses on multiculturalism.

It's actually very nice. They bring in big name speakers, have concerts, and various festivals. I usually can get a hook up whenever someone fun comes in, but I hadn't been in a while so when I heard the S'JEJ was coming in, I was all too excited to make the ill fated journey.

Anyhow, he started out talking about the many trials he had to overcome to become Mufasa, Darth Vader, and have the most recognized voice in the world. It was all very inspiring until he got into the meat of his presentation which consisted of telling black Americans that since we come from nothing, we are nothing.

Let me explain. He started talking about how each culture was like an onion, with the layers and the blah dee blah, but his point was that every culture can be traced back to a language. He surmised from this that since black Americans do not have one language that defines them, that they are not legitimately a culture. Now it's one thing to say this to a room full of black people who know better, but it's another thing to say it to a room full of white people, and yet another to say it to a room with like 15 black people that are going to have to explain that mess later on.

On the surface I can understand what he meant. He said that each culture is defined by a certain language and that blacks were at a disadvantage because Africa is full of languages most of which are either no longer spoken, or were not carried over during slavery. He said that since we don't have a language that unifies us, we can never be whole as a community.

The problem with that assumption is that there are many cultures that have the same languages, but have been able to be identified as a seperate culture. Look at South Africans vs Australians vs. the British. On the surface, they are all British, but they have very different traits about them that make them unique to their region. The same example can also be made about Spaniards vs. Mexicans vs. South Americans, etc. They, for the most part, speak the same language, but are completely different cultures.

So why can't the converse be true for black Americans? Yes, we have many languages, but due to "unforseen circumstances" have managed to form a culture despite it. Being the defiant one that I am, I immediately questioned him about it.

"Don't the practices of our race define it as a culture?" I said, somewhat sarcastically, but mostly sardonically, "I mean, take for example, food." And he looked mindful because he knew I was right. Every culture had a food that defined it. When you hear curry, you don't think of Mexico, just like when you hear chitlins, you don't think of China. Soul food has been defined as a black food and one that is almost universal in black kitchens.

S'JEJ gave a long complicated answer which mostly amounted to, "No." Later when asked what culture he identified with, he said none, but that his son currently identified with the Asian culture (just Asian? That's not a "culture" is it? Does he mean Japanese, Chinese, Saudi Arabian? Shut up S'JEJ!)

The main issue I have with all of this is that his deductions make it seem like the reason for our lack of culture was one that was self inflicted. Black people just came over here one day and said, "Screw our traditions and languages. We're going all out, American style!" Did he really forget about slavery? Did he forget about the breaking up of tribes and families, and that the intermixing was not voluntary, but mandatory? That we had to throw away many of the ancient languages and learn English? That every semblance of our last culture was destroyed so we had make a new one?

Yes, you say? He must of forgotten. Oh, okay, well, good thing someone reminded him.

Afterwards, every black person in the room came up and commended me on my questions to S'JEJ. They agreed and said it gave them plenty of ammo when they had to do the explanation rounds the next day.

So that's it, my S'JEJ story, and my conclusion that even if S'JEJ doesn't think so, black Americans have culture dangit! And it's pretty nifty too.

The Soothing Waters of Lake Minnetonka

or the warming waters of the Double Tree Guest Suites indoor heated pool and jacuzzi, whichever is closer and within your budget.

Last weekend I celebrated my nieces birthday. She just turned 13 which is huge to me. I'm a young aunt (24), so I remember when this little girl was born and I feel so old, but she really looks up to me.

Anyhow, I work at a hotel, and she wanted to have a pool party so I hooked them up with a couple of rooms at one of our affiliate branches. As we were going over the plans, I asked her who she invited. She named a girl I knew, another girl from school, and another friend.

"She's black." She said nonchalantly, and then continued with activities she wanted to do that night.

That might not seem like much, but let me give you some background on her side of the family. My brother is black and my SIL is white, and they began dating for various reasons, but one, I believe, was because my SIL knew it would upset her parents that she were dating a black man. They started in the 70's where it was free and easy like Sunday morning, and soon fell in love.

Now, my SIL knew that my brother's race would be an issue. In fact they had been living together for several months before telling anyone in her family. The problem with this is that when it did get revealed, my siblings had to act like it wasn't a big deal, and her family had to act like they accepted it. Over the years they've all grown to love each other. He treated her unbelievably well, and when he died in 2002 (cancer sucks), it literally tore my SIL and her family to shreds.

I have three of the most beautiful nieces and nephews in the world. They are little bad butts, and are way too grown, but I love them to bits and pieces. I would literally kill/die for them with little to no hesitation. My SIL, however, believes that she is the only one who can love like that, and rightly so, but also rightly wrong.

You see, when you're in love their is no one in the world that exists except you and that other person, but when you're in a commitment, you have to think of everyone else. When SIL had kids, she thought she would raise them her way, by her rules, involve only her family, etc. What she didn't have in mind was a defiant little sister (moi) who loved her big brother to death, and would fall head over heals for anything that he produced.

So the arguments began. I was never allowed to babysit, when she came to Lincoln (they live in Omaha, approx 1hr away) she would see her sister and not bring the kids over, she would never let us hold her, when the baby cried she had to be the one to attend to it, she would never discipline. It drove me utterly insane.

To be perfectly fair, part of the reasoning for my lack of involvement was my age. I am my father's youngest child, but I am my mother's only child. There is at least 20 years between me, and my youngest, older brother. They had always seen me as a baby, and even just now are seeing me as an adult. There is also an age gap of four years between my niece and my two nephews (who are a year apart).

Raising kids is hard, raising black kids is harder, and raising black kids that you refuse to see as black is probably hardest. Everything I did to instill some color into my niece was argued about. For her 3rd birthday I bought her a black girl doll with tight ringlets and my niece loved it, but my sister said she "lost" it (and yet none of the other dolls). When I bought books, I bought the ones with black girls on the cover. When I played music, I played black music, just anything I could to make sure she would grow up knowing who she was. It may seem a little extreme, but I figured with me on one side, and her mom on the other, it would be fine.

When my SIL just couldn't manage my nieces hair, but refused to get any help, and started straightening it, I got my niece black hair care magazines and did her hair whenever I was there. My SIL bought her Britney Spears (prewhore) albums so I bought her Destiny's Child (prewhores) albums. It was always this unspoken tug of war, and it got to the point where I just kind of gave up.

Then one day I was up for a family gathering. My niece was probably 8 or 9, and we were sitting outside in the grass on an unseasonably warm Feb day. She asked me what I would be doing the next day and I told her I was going to sing in a musical for Black History Month. She smiled and said, "Black History, that's me!"

You could not get the grin off of my face, even to this day.

What I realized is that as long as I'm there, as an influence, she will have access to any answers about the black side of her. She's so smart and so inquisitive. I thought that since she didn't outwardly express a lot of the personality quirks attributed to black people that maybe she wasn't open to experiencing that part of her culture. I was wrong. She was just trying to see where she fit in, which parts of her fit inside of different bubbles of her makeup, could she have some parts that overlapped?

The thing I love about it is that she knows that I care, without my saying anything about it. And I also love that she cares enough to tell me about her "progress" without analyzing it.

Her mom is getting better too. She's starting to trust me more with all of the kids. She's starting to realize that though one day the world might see these kids as biracial, they will never be seen as white, and that's okay. She's starting to ask me questions that really should have been asked 10 years ago, but better late than never I always say.

So that's why I was happy my niece informed me her black friend was coming. And I was happy when I started singing a different version of Happy Bithday she made it known that it was the black version. I was happy when her friends asked about different black artists, black writers, black dances, etc.

I'm mostly happy because for the most part black people are thought to be substandard. They are at the low end of the totem pole in even being acknowledged as a culture, and everything within said culture is said to be bad or negative. There are so many unfair stereotypes associated with being black in America so when anyone shows any type of appreciation for us, it warms my heart.

Guess Who?

So I went and saw the film Guess Who? with Ashton and Bernie Mac. And while I actually liked it alot, I won't really be using this space to talk about the film.

You see, this film was supposed to be controversial and groundbreaking, and to some degrees it was. It brought up a lot of different views and points about white male/black female relationships that I hadn't seen portrayed on film, and I think it was most successful in the parts that weren't so heavy handed.

The problem with heavy handed scenes are they are heavy handed to the point of being anvillicious. Take, for example, the dinner table scene. You automatically know that there is going to be controversy and you already start to feel uncomfortable before the dialog even begins. This of course should be the point of the scene, but the problem is that it's completely expected. You know you're supposed to be uncomfortable so you brace yourself for it, and then when it comes, it becomes a bit of a let down.

Anyhow, this blurb isn't about that necessarily. I remember watching the dinner scene, and Ashton made some remark about something that his grandmother said. Everyone kind of got up in arms about it, and that was all well and good, but then Bernie said something to the effect of "Tell us a black joke [Ashton]. I know you've heard some." Now instead of just shutting up, Ashton decides to be all proactive and jumps into it head first.

Now, it's not really the jokes that upset me. I could really care less, some were cute, some were rude, whatev. The thing that got me was that this one scene completely validated the one thing that black people have always wondered about for years. And now that the question has been answered, it only raises more questions? What question is that you ask? Well, the obvious, do white people really sit around telling black jokes? I mean, I know that as a black person, I talk a lot of crap about white people, but never in my life have I ever sat in a pow wow circle all, "What did the one white man say to the other white man who applied for a job at his company? You're hired! Ha Ha Ha!" I mean, that never happens. Most times our disgust is at some sort of event that is so crazy that only white people could be behind it. "Did you hear that people are now getting their backs and sides pierced to look like corsets? Man, white people just run out of things to do!". Those are the kind of jokes we do.

So I need to know, who are these white people that sit around all, "What did the white man say to the other white man who was eating chicken? It's a good thing I'm not black, because I would take that chicken from you! HA! Get it? Because black people like chicken!" "And watermelon!" "Oh yeah! Man, that's rich, we should write that down!". And why are they doing this? Who started these jokes, who repeated them, who co-signed this idea?

Now I know black folk get on your nerves sometimes, they get on my nerves too and I'm one of them. I don't begrudge you the need to get amoungst yourselves and be all politically incorrect and vent, but for the love of all that is good, stop with the black knock knock jokes!

That is all.

My Mom and I Conversate

Mom: I don't want to go to work today.

Me: Me neither. How about, you go to work for me, and I'll go to work for you, but instead of me going to work for you, I'll just stay home?

Mom: No?

Me: Are you sure? Because I really like that idea, especially the part where I don't go to work.

Mom: No.

Me: Oh, okay.

Fin

Jacob Makes Me Want To Be A Better Man...

And by better man, I mean woman.

You see, I frequent this site called Television Without Pity which does snarky recaps of television shows (you can find the link in my link list which thanks to Katiedid is now in existence), and has forums so you are able to snark on television shows.

Anyhow, I always have a favorite, and the site is filled with wonderful writers, but every now and again there comes a recapper that blows my mind.

Now there's a difference between someone who's an absolute literate genius, and someone that you love in a way that's only makes sense to you. These are both hard qualities to find, and sometimes you can find one and not the other, but very rarely, you find someone who encapsulates both.

This was done by the one and only Jacob C. I've fallen in love, and he has a thread devoted to the loving of him, but it is more topic specific so I decided to write it here.

In today's culture many people are caught up with trying to sensationalize the extraordinary. There are freaks everywhere, acts of dysfunction everywhere, it's like people forgot what it is to be normal. The problem with this is that while it's great to step outside yourself, it's even better to take a look at who you are, and to even, sometimes, appreciate that.

Reading a Jacob recap is like watching a woman trying to decide which pair of shoes to buy. Now that may sound odd, but if you are a woman, and you've shopped for shoes, you may understand what I'm getting at. You see, when trying to decide between say, a red pair, and a green pair, the question is not simply, "Do I like red, or green?". For a true shopper, you have to consider the implications of your purchase. Do I need another pair of red shoes? Can you ever have too many pairs of red shoes? Do I have anything to match the green shoes? But does that matter? Can I mismatch the green shoes and end up matching? What does red say? What does wearing green make my legs look like? Do I need a pedicure? I should get a pedicure to go with my new green shoes. Or do I like the red? A lot of people would call that unneccessary torture, but I call it fun.

In Jacob's recaps, he writes the way he thinks, so you don't get the cut and dry 'here is the answer to the question' that so many authors trick you into thinking is original. He constantly flip flops, and changes his mind and has new revelations just like people. He can go from being passionate about something to being meh about something and the whole time you sit there nodding your head because you just get it. You may not always agree with it, but it's there and you appreciate that.

When you read his recaps you feel like you're sitting there, right beside him, reading along as he types. And you may comment on something, and he goes back and changes it because he agrees for the moment. The amazing part of that journey is that he is able to do this on a pretty universal level. Everyone can take something from his writing and have it be completely original to them. The only downfall is that to an extent he'll never know how much of an impact something so seemingly simple, or nonsensical can have on any given person.

Luckily through the power of email I have the ability to communicate with him, but the one thing that remains constant (and frustrating at times) is that this is his job. And I'm but a poster. It's like trying to become friends with your teacher, it's just not possible until you graduate.

So why all the love? Well, I think it's important to give credit while it can be given. I read a lot and want so much to be able to tell James Baldwin, or Larry Duplechan, Ethan Mordden, or even Terry McMillian how they've influenced me and entertained me, but I can't. I don't know them, some of them are dead, but I can email Jacob. Does he care? Sure, why not? I don't know, I like to think he thinks it's nice though, and that's what matters. Just getting the feeling through.

Because In My Mind, It Will Always Be 2001

and now for something completely different...

He was the last sizzle at the club-izzle doing his thug thizzle with some fine hizzle.

Later that nizzle they began to kizzle and ended up in his bizzle without the use of a profalizzle.

Nine months lizzle, he got a call-izzle that he had a little bizzle, and he felt like such a fizzle because he didn't use a profalizzle.

Then he thought to his sizzle, as he pizzled his first child support bizzle,

"Man, why didn't I just go to church."

Fin (izzle)

Whigga What?!

My brother-in-law David is white (and gay, but that's another post), but I always say he's just a black man in need of a tan. You see, he's one of the coolest people I know. He loves R&B, neosoul, jazz, and even some rap. He knows every black entertainment reference, and every black history fact I throw at him. And he knows it so nonchalantly, like, "Oh yeah, Charles Drew, transfusion pioneer, too bad he couldn't get one himself, the world sucks." It's like black to him, is something to be appreciated, and where I live that is most certainly not the case so anytime I meet someone like him, I instantly fall head over heels.

He was born in Basten (where they lack to patty at the bahs) Mass, briefly did a stint in the Navy, married a woman, divorced said woman, reconciled with his mother (again, another post, yet well worth the wait), moved to San Fran, met my brother, love, union, yada yada.

Anyhow, one year I was out there visiting and we were riding in his car talking about this boy that lived with me briefly that ended up being completely insane (nother post). The point I was trying to make was that said psychopath was trying so hard to be something that he wasn't.

David made a comment that so many black men were at a disadvantage when it came to personality. In order to succeed they think they need to be "Uncle Toms", but in order to be accepted they have to be niggas and thugs.

I stopped listening because one word rang over and over again through my head. Niggas, niggas, niggas. I didn't know what to say. I am of the sect that hates when white people use this word. I absolutely hate it. Even when it is used in a way that is not entirely hateful, I hate it. That's pretty much the only justification for it, but I might elaborate sometime in the future. I completely checked out of the conversation for a bit, and when I came back he began talking about how he would recast Dreamgirls with members of Destiny's Child, and since I am a pop culture whore, I let the last subject go, and ran full force with this one.

I went back to thinking about how I felt about what David said. I mean, in essence, it was just a word that he said to illustrate a point, but what was that point? What exactly did being a "nigga" entail? What made him think that it was acceptable to say that in front of me? How many other black people let him get away with that? I know that he's been a part of the black community long before he met Keith (my brother, and no all you SFU fans, it's just coincedence), and in general he would fight for any wrongs and injustices against us, but does that give him the right to throw around that word?

When I was visiting it was an awkward time for me in general. All of this stuff was happening back at home, and I was really just getting to the point where my brother saw me as an actual adult, and not just a child. I really wanted to go there and impress him and make him like me because for a long time I didn't think he did. That ended up being more about him not knowing me, but at the time I was so flustered.

I never mentioned the incident to either of them since, and don't feel right bringing it back up, but I think about it every now and again. Trying to find an answer, where there is none.