I was sad to see Spitzer go, but I was still excited about you in office. I didn’t know much about you, but I have to admit the black and blind thing made you kind of interesting. My thoughts–a man with that much handicap must be good or at least have some progressive ideas. Spitzer had ideas too, some that could have helped us avert the whole crazy Wall Street thing, but he also had hos. And we all know, hookers and politics don’t mix well.
So alas, it was your turn. And I was desperate for you to prove yourself. Even said “ha” to all the naysayers when you and your wife emerged to admit to extramarital affairs. Can’t get ‘em now, I said as I was dumb to think the only things tripping up politicians were camera women and interns. Anyway, a blind black man and his cheating wife. This is gonna be good and for a short time–it was. You scored major points with your support of stem cell research and I heard gay people weeping when you proposed a gay marriage bill. You were hitting all the right buttons and then you started slipping. Getting crushed actually, by that big ass budget deficit. So you thought, let’s just charge four percent on everything from music downloads to sleeping outside (camping). Of course, there was the 18% soda tax aka the “obesity tax” that has yet to be approved. Read more »
Is there something distinct about the way in which we move or speak that is noticeably…Black? Before, I would have denied this. There’s no way you can identify movement or speech as distinctly Black. Right?
Tonight I attended a forum at my school about racial profiling. I heard various opinions about what people think it is, how to confront it, and what should be done if it happens. The theme of the night was sustaining the energy and outrage—when profiling does occur—so that change can be brought to the situation. The idea of using situations of profiling (or other situations of that bring shock to the multitudes) to create opportunities of mobilization makes sense to me. It also seems to be a pattern that once a couple weeks pass by, people tend to forget about a situation and the occasion to bring positive transformation gets lost. I saw this happen a week after the earthquake in Haiti hit. Or when I think back to Jena 6, how no one really cared about it after it became “old news.”
Overall, the lesson from the night, at least when it came to racial profiling when dealing with the police was knowing your rights. When I worked with the ACLU last Summer we would explain to people what their rights were when dealing with the police. Here are some tips to take into account is you are ever stopped by the police.
What to do if you’re stopped by the police
Think carefully about your words, movement, body language, and emotions. Don’t get into an argument with the police. Remember, anything you say or do can be used against you. Keep your hands where the police can see them. Don’t run. Don’t touch any police officer. Don’t resist even if you believe you are innocent. Don’t complain on the scene or tell the police they’re wrong or that you’re going to file a complaint. Do not make any statements regarding the incident . You also should not lie to a police officer.
For a long time husbands had been notoriously recognized for outshining, outworking and “bringing home the bacon for” their wives. After a short marriage and divorce in 1991, followed by 19 years of hard work and accomplishment, Kathryn Bigelow has shown ex-husband, James Cameron, that she’s got things covered and won’t need any favors.
Her low budget production of The Hurt Locker wowed the critics and viewers at the Academy Awards, winning 6 Oscars out of 9 nominations, including Best Picture and Best Directing by Bigelow. She is the first woman to win Best Director at the Academy Awards and after 82 years, as Barbara Streisand declared when presenting the award, “It’s about time.” Bigelow accepted the award, hoping to be “the first of many” female Academy Award winning directors and advising any young filmmaker not to give up on dreams. Read more »
I’ve always been a fan of Dwayne Carter Jr. Before Young Money Entertainment existed, before all the Carter albums, and even before the “bling bling” phenomena I liked Weezy. The pint-sized rapper from Hollygrove, New Orleans had a guttural delivery that was edgy and catchy at the same time. I can recall watching Hot Boys music videos after school and quickly turning the channel when my Mom walked in the room. In all honesty, I wouldn’t want my ten year old watching the “Block is Hot” either. Nevertheless, I grew up in the age of “Rap City the Basement” and “106 and Park”, it was hard to keep most of my friends from this music too.
I digress. Back to Mr. Weezy F. Baby, please say the baby. So today Mr. “No Ceilings” was sentenced to a year of nothing but ceilings and cinderblock walls in New York’s Riker Island. Although he plead guilty to criminal possession of a weapon in the second degree in October of 2009 he has been more evasive than O.J. Simpson in a White Bronco. Well that’s not too evasive. He’s been more evasive than Amy Winehouse at a detox center. Read more »
The last thing Daniel Merriweather wants is to be compared to Amy Winehouse. And that’s perfectly understandable; what artist needs media coverage of their work that consistently fashions links to a well-known, better peer? But when you’re white, not American, possess an emotion-drenched, Otis Redding-inspired vocal style, and Mark Ronson (the man responsible for producing half of Winehouse’s Back to Black) laces every single one of your tracks with that familiar Stax Records-meets-Phil Spector-meets-Hip Hop sound, you’re sort of asking for it.
Hailing from Melbourne, Australia (not London?!), Daniel Merriweather’s rise from down-under obscurity to potential Soul superstardom might have seemed unlikely, were it not for the unprecedented success of his not-so-distant, musical older cousin, Miss. Winehouse, and the almost immediate procession of like-minded/Caucasian artists that followed (i.e. Adele, Duffy, etc). Blue-eyed Soul is in ladies and gentlemen, and as long as these artists are putting out quality shit, I’m down with it. Besides, Merriweather’s been an active musician since the early 2000’s; there’s no sense of any sort of calculated opportunism going on with Merriweather’s debut album, the charming Love & War; just a handful of knockout compositions, some mediocre ones, a couple forgettables, and a big, wide-open space where Merriweather’s singular musical personality should have been, but isn’t.
The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.
–Maya Angelou
So, how do you make a little black girl believe that all she has gone through does not determine her ability to take flight? How do you “teach” her that her wings are beautiful and that the risk of flying is a marvelous growth enriching endeavor? How do you make her see that her cadged song and flight will one day inspire others to freedom? How do you “teach” a black girl to fly?
You see, it’s not an easy endeavor because so many things seek to clip their wings, silence their voice, and keep them cadged. It takes a special kind of spiritual intervention to release little black birds. It is not a task for the faint of heart or for those who benevolently (i.e. good white women) “swoop” in to save de Negro children from the pathology of their colored communities. Hmmmm . . . it is a task well suited for wise black women like Baby Suggs in Beloved who said, “Yonder they do not love your flesh. They despise it . . . No more do they love the skin on your back. Yonder they flay it. And O my people they do not love your hands. Those they only use, tie, bind, chop off and leave empty. Love your hands . . . You got to love it,” and Minnie Ransom in The Salt Eaters who said, “Are you sure, sweetheart, that you want to be well? Just so’s you’re sure, sweetheart, and ready to be healed, cause wholeness is no trifling matter. A lot of weight when you’re well,” and my 8th grade colored school teacher, Mrs. LaVern Colvin, who said, “Now listen here, Fallon, if you do not know by now how much I love you . . . you will never know, dearie.”
A few years ago, I took on the unbelievably complex and daunting task of constructing the maternal branches of my family tree. My first step was to sit down with my grandmother and listen as she recounted the names of her grandparents and their parents. Granny relayed some wonderful, albeit slightly inaccurate information.
My Great-Great Grandparents
Beyond my great-great grandparents, I had no names. Most importantly at a certain point in history, Black people in this country didn’t technically have distinguishable last names, or really any last names. I was frustrated and the last thing I wanted to do was turn to government records but that’s just what I did.
Last week a student was arrested in the reg. So clearly if a person is arrested in this beautiful post-racial, progressive, and inclusive society, then it must be some just cause. Right? Witnesses say that this 5’6 black senior at University of Chicago was “wrestled to the ground and put in a headlock.” This must mean that he was threatening someone’s life or at least doing something minutely illegal. Right?
Wrong.
The student walked into the library and was told he was too loud and if he didn’t quiet down, then the police would be called. The Chicago Maroon reported that the student was arrested in the basement of the library—where usually everyone is loud. He was charged and spent a night in jail because he refused to show officers his identification or leave the library for unruly behavior, witnesses deny that police asked the student for ID or that the student was causing a disturbance. They also said the arresting officer was inappropriately aggressive.
From 8:00 AM to 3:04 PM, 5 days a week, I am a high school student, meaning that there are teachers, administrators and other faculty members all around who can tell me what to do. On top of being a student, I am also only a sophomore. And that means that not only are there authoritative adults in the building but there are also hundreds of upperclassmen, no more than a couple years my senior. Most of whom think they know oh so much more because of their varsity status or newly issued driver’s license. Truth is we’re not much different and “underclassmen” is just another title giving someone else license to feel superior and restrict our adolescent freedom.
I may be a student in the high school hierarchy most of the time but, for a couple hours on Monday afternoons I am a tutor at a local elementary school. I am personally responsible for showing up on time, without warning bells like in my high school hallways. Read more »
I was sad to see Spitzer go, but I was still excited about you in office. I didn’t know much about you, but I have to admit the black and blind thing made you kind of interesting. My thoughts–a man with that much handicap must be good or at least have some progressive ideas. Spitzer had ideas too, some that could have helped us avert the whole crazy Wall Street thing, but he also had hos. And we all know, hookers and politics don’t mix well.
to create opportunities of mobilization makes sense to me. It also seems to be a pattern that once a couple weeks pass by, people tend to forget about a situation and the occasion to bring positive transformation gets lost. I saw this happen a week after the earthquake in Haiti hit. Or when I think back to Jena 6, how no one really cared about it after it became “old news.”
in my high school hallways.