One Fist In the Air

So, there I was, typing away at my computer, in my office mistakingly thinking I'm free when...

An attorney whom I'd had friendly banter with in the past, who shares my affinity for tea and and often brings in new and interesting teas for me to sample and who's been known to ramble on about random topics, sometimes prompting an unspoken "Too Much Information" from me when she begins talk about her body ailments - a social misfit if you will but harmless - walks into my office yesterday, paper in hand and hands it to me with the declaration that she thinks I'd "get a kick out of it" but adds the disclaimer that she means that facetiously.

Busy, I put the paper to the side thinking it's a joke she printed out from her email, but as she stands there, I realize she intends for me to read this now. Sighing, I begin to read this piece of paper and she leaves to tend to some business.

Blah, blah, blah...it's some legalese case law (Fleming v. Slocum) she printed out from Westlaw. Why do I have this?

So, I scan down and see that it's a case involving the sale of a slave.

*blink*

*blink*

So, I sat there for a minute - perplexed, angry and devestated - wondering what would prompt this white woman to give me such a thing. Any why is it just because she comes across case law involving slave sales, she felt it necessary to bring it to me?

So, I called my ex-girlfriend, an attorney, and read the case law to her because I really wanted to understand this case because in doing so I thought maybe I could better understand why it was given to me. The ex explained that in a nutshell it was a case wherein a slave was sold to a man and after the sale the new "owner" found out that the slave had stolen from the original "owner" and the man who bought the slave sued the man who sold "Tom" (as the slave was referenced) to him because he felt that in not telling him the slave was a thief, the seller of the slave had committed fraud.

The court ruled that the seller of the slave was not guilty because unless the seller of the slave expressly stated that the slave was honest, the assumption could not be made that he was.

Ummm, okay.

So, again, why do I have this?

I reported the incident, I was too upset not to. The attorney's boss speculated that she gave me the case study because she was so shocked that cases involving slaves were still even being used as reference material and she wanted to share.

Ummm, okay. It might have been nice if she'd said that instead of "I thought you'd get a kick out of this." Anyway...

My issue is the thoughtlessness of giving me such a thing. I'm working, minding my business, making a living and out of the blue I get: "Hey! Remember y'all used to be property??"

I honestly don't think she meant to be malicious or racist in what she did, I really do think she was simply being thoughtless. White people tend to have this "Y'all still upset over that slavery thing? It happened so long ago" mentality because they have no working knowledge of African American history except cursory rememberances of Harriet Tubman and Martin Luther King. They are not intimately aware of these figures any more than they're aware of the Trail of Tears, Che Guevara or any other notable event or figure in anything other than non-white American history.

Which is why it's important for us to know our history even if they don't. I imagine if I wasn't aware, I'd have looked at what she'd given me and dismissed it, possibly seeing it as she saw it, but because I am aware, I read this case study and thought of the Middle Passage - of men and women suffocating, lying sideways, boat rocking, starving, naked as they traveled against the Atlantic; of people working hot and thirsty with dirty clothing in fields being made to work faster than their bodies possibly could ; of the thought that we are here simply because upon arriving in this country, the Europeans refused to do the manual labor necessary to cultivate the land and because they were starving and outnumbered by the First Americans they risked massacre if they tried to force them into slavery, they traveled to Africa for us only to bring us here and treat us like cattle, referring to us as "Tom" in case law and declaring us less than human.

We're supposed to get over that?

I think if White folks were more aware of our history, they wouldn't be so dismissive about our plight.

Too often we keep our history to ourselves, disseminating information relevant to our community to people who look like us and not realizing that Black History is American history.

I have recently changed my behavior regarding African American news and concerns and stopped calling my black friends to discuss relevant matters. Change begins with discourse and we should, each of us, extend our reach to our melanin-challenged brothers and sisters.

I purposefully shared the death of Sakia Gunn with my coworkers, I shared my grief after watching Hotel Rwanda and openly expressed my discomfort of the fact that Somalia was being left out of the media coverage regarding the tsunami. I bring black and gay issues into the office lest they get swept under the carpet. In doing so, I expect that those around me wil develop some semblance of sensitivity over these issues.

I have some work to do on the attorney who brought me the case review of the slave ruling, perhaps I'll buy her A People's History of the United States but more than likely I'll give her a quick history lesson about why her sharing it with me was distasteful and I think I'll have my work cut out for me this Black History Month.

Counter-Inaugural March 2005

Thursday evening I had occassion to attend the largest protest march I've ever been to, George W. Bush's counter-inaugural protest in Westood.



Thousands upon thousands of old and young folks turned out in droves, beating drums, holding signs and shouting in union to the injustices of an imperialist administration. Speeches were read of lies told to a people, hypocricy and racist rhetoric and practices.

After I parked my car, I ran into the nearby Rite Aid for a disposable camera since mine is on the blink. A man in line asked another what the point of the march was since Bush had already been inaugurated some six hours earlier. The sentiment had been echoed minutes earlier by a young girl in the parking structure although I think realistically I'm giving her too much credit since I do believe her question of whether or not the protest would stop the inauguration was a question of ignorance towards when the inaguration even took place instead of sardonic criticism.

So, the questions remains: what is the point of such a protest?

Having the rights of free speech and assembly, it's necessary to exercise them when faced with issues that cause mass dissent. In doing so, we continue to motivate and educate each other, we encourage each other which is critical in times such as these when it's easy to feel dejected. To see the faces of those who are part of your struggle is both invigorating and rejuvenating.

Living in a blue state, I sometimes wonder if maybe *I'M* wrong, perhaps the Red States know better and I'm brainwashed by a liberal community. A black lesbian told me quite convincingly that if the people speak collectively on an issue (i.e. gay marriage) and decide that it is not to be, then we are to just accept that because "the people have spoken". Head cocked to one side, I actually questioned my indignation for a moment.

I think that tends to happen for a lot of us. Feeling outnumbered, we tend to not speak out on how we feel because we question our stances. Coming together, we "come back to the middle" as I like to say. As a collective we have the opportunity to arm ourselves with facts to counter the arguments of those who try to tell us we're wrong, the stories of those who have suffered remind us of why we are angry and the vision of the souls who stand united with us give us the energy to press on.

So, while the counter-inaugural protest may not have had any tangible results, George W. Bush is still in office and we are still still occupying Iraq, it turned the frequency up on the voice of dissent in this country. United we huddled in front of the podium, signs raised, drums beating, listening to Robin Tyler comically assert that the Republican party should change its avatar from an elephant to a prophylactic ("it assists inflation, impedes production and gives a false sense of security when you're getting fucked"). Sage wafting through the air, we stood united, angry, drums beating, chants shouting listening to the stories of those who have endured war and now stand on the side of peace.

So, no, the rally and march did not stop the inauguration, but if nothing else, this administration now knows that the natives are restless.

Invisible Brown People

Now that I know people are actually reading my little corner of the world wide web, I guess keeping this updated would be a good idea, no?

I've had an outrageous number of issues racing through my head these days, but they all end with the same overwhelming thought:

We are not here for our own survival but rather the survival of others.

I think it's arrogant to think that we were plopped on this big round floating ball and expected to just maintain our own personal necessitites: food, water, shelter and bling-bling, but yet that's all most of us are doing. Escalades, Sean John, Von Dutch (who by the way, folks, was a racist and anti-semite, take that stuff off!), etc. etc. *insert name brand here*

Unfortunately, unless the genocide in the Sudan is sponsored by FUBU most of us aren't going to know about it and I shudder to think if we're even going to care.

An interlude on The Blue State compilation called Bling-Bling revolutionary is so on target with its assessment that we have become complacent and it's that complacency that has killed any possibility of revolt and eradicated any semblance of spirituality we have as a community. We are more than complacent, we are satiated. We are overweight with the remnants of sushi on our lips, drunk from Cristal and flossing it all out of our "fronts" at the end of the day.

The reality, though, is that we are not here for our own survival.

I think God is a more complicated Being than that.

I have to believe God is more complicated than that.

There are entire societies of animals, fish and bugs - ants, for example - who cannot exist without the support of its...brethren? Whatever the term is. Beavers, gazelles, elephants, lions, they exist as a community - supporting, nurturing and most of all, protecting each other.

What's our problem?

I think it's human nature to connect with issues that concern the community of people who look like us. It's not right, but I believe it's human nature. It is for that reason that our international media community is focusing so much on the tsunami, not because of the 150,000+ golden southeast Asians who died, but because of the tens of thousands of fair-skinned European tourists who died beside them. I was naive enough to believe this wasn't true and that the world had overnight grown a collective conscious big enough to aid in the relief of these golden people, but then I woke up.

If this collective consious existed, we'd be sending billions of dollars to aid in the genocide in the Sudan. If this collective conscious existed, the United States would have found another errant 350 million dollars to assist Sideshow Bob I saw sleeping on Beverly Boulevard.

So, no, it's not about a collective conscious because trust if Sven and Margaret hadn't been kickin' it on the beach, Indonesia wouldn't see a dime.

But I'm not judging, actually. See the majoritarian community is just that - a community. They fight for the ones who look like them.

And I can't judge because I'm just as guilty. I started Out&About because I really wanted to create a greater sense of community in the black lesbian community. I wanted to support black lesbian businesses, support the art of black lesbian artists, rally on issues that aversely effected the black lesbian community, help black lesbians network.

My original point is that there is a vast section of our American community who doesn't realize the necessity of reaching a hand out to anyone.

So, what are you here for if not to help others? How do we get back on track as a community if you don't each one, teach one?

Basically, what are you really doing?

If we don't cultivate our community, what are we leaving behind us?

I'm not so radical or out of touch that I think people don't support more acts of social activism because they're lazy (but I recognize that for some that is very much a factor). In a day and age where we are dealing with an economic crisis, I get that we're all tryna make it happen and we're trapped in the matrix, but just as we find time to shop for the latest gear or drop it like it's hot on Saturday, so too should we find the time, money and inclination to support political, activist and volunteer efforts.

This adminstration is causing a depletion in funds for many a worthwhile cause and without the support of the community, our quality of life is going to diminish further and we'll shake our fists at the white man for making it happen when in reality most of what we'll miss we could have prevented from demise.

We have allowed ourselves to become invisible brown people because our mouths are so stuffed with complacency we have lost the ability to shout. An ocean away, there are invisible brown people, too. We need to shout for them and we need to shout for us. We have to become involved there isn't any other option.

Hotel Rwanda

I took a break from my week-long exercises of coughing, sneezing and downing Nyquil to join some friends at a screening of Hotel Rwanda.

The subject of the movie is Paul Rusesabagina, a Hutu hoteller who, during one of the bloodiest masacres in African history, managed to save the lives of 1268 Hutu and Tutsi refugees.

The movie brings to mind a myriad of issues ranging from the philosphical (Even when all other differences are eliminated how society still needs an "other" to hate) to the societal (Why are American actors needed to bring such a brilliant and important movie to screen?) to the political (the ineffectiveness of the UN, the desire to turn a blind's eye to atrocities in "third world" countries).

Quick history lesson: Belgian colonists created a line of division in Rwanda in 1926 - lighter, "elegant", thin-noses Rwandans, they dubbed "Tutsi", darker Rwandans were dubbed "Hutu" and each group was given an identy card to solidify their group. While the Belgians occupied Rwanda, they favored the Tutsi going so far as to provide them with better education, but when they left, they left the power to the Hutus. The Hutus in turn took revenge on the Tutsi by way of massacre for the treatment they received during the Beligian occupation. In the 60s, the Hutus began to revolt and thousands of Tutis left Rwanda. By 1963, half the Tutsi population lived outside of Rwanda. By the 70s, the remaining Tutsis in Rwanda were forced out of universities and Tutsi were restricted to 9% of jobs. In October 1990, a Tutsi guerrilla brigade called the Rwandan Patriotic Front (RPF) come in from Uganda and invaded Rwanda. A ceasefire was signed a year later. Between then and 1993, the Rwanda army trained a Hutu-dominated militia force. In 1993, the president of Rwanda and the RFP signed a peace agreement and the U.N. is deployed to help implement it. In April 1994, the president of Rwanda and the president of Burundi are killed in a plane crash orchestrated by Hutu extremist to stop the peace accords. That night the killings begin.

The Hutus targeted all high-profile Tutsis and all moderate Hutus. By the end of the 100-day massacre, a million people were killed by machete.

More devestating than the killings in Rwanda was the global indifference to the atrocities. The most attention given was the horror that European and American (white) tourists were in the region and needed aid. Once their freedom was secured, a blind eye was once again turned to the brown people lying dead in the streets. Most news media refused to even utter the word "genocide". We instead returned to our days of Snoop Dogg's "What's My Name", Boys II Men's "I'll Make Love to You" and Kurt Cobain's death.

In essence, we let those people die, knew about it and pretended it wasn't happening.

As much as I express my moral outrage, though, I don't know what I personally could have done even if I'd been fully aware of the carnage. At 19 years old, I doubt that I was fully equipped to take on an angry Hutu with a machete, but I'd like to think that I would have been part of some organized effort to force our government to help. The reality is that I should not have to be part of an organized effort to force my government to help.

America is sending 350 million dollars to help tsunami victims in southeast Asia. No organized effort had to be made for that.

I'm wondering if America will send money to the victims in Africa.

(Imagine me rolling my eyes.)

Anyway, back to the movie...

Hotel Rwanda is a heart-stopping, gut-wrenching flawless film so moving I unabashedly wept openly at the Grove movie theatre, ruining a face full of MAC makeup next to a middle aged white man next to me doing the same (minus the makeup obviously).

Christmas in New York

I spent ten days in the Big Apple, arriving on Christmas Eve and leaving January 2nd. While there, I got the chance to see family I hadn't seen in years, including my father, grandmother, an aunt and some cousins.

The beginning of the trip found me in Ossining which is in upstate New York and where the penitentiary (is that spelled right? Whatever, the jail) Sing-Sing is located. In fact, my father's church overlooks Sing-Sing. I'm sure there's some irony or a metaphor or something of the like in that, but I have some semblance of a cold/flu combination so I'm too out of it to figure out what it is. Mi padre and his new wife don't seem technologically advanced enough to send me the pics we took so you can forget that, but I had a great time there nonetheless. New wife cooked Christmas dinner for about 12 folks and every dish was as equally delicious as the last. Christmas night, we went to Times Square to see 42nd street which was surprisingly booked solid. Good show, not enough melanin in the cast for me, but what are you gonna do?

Sunday evening, I headed over to Long Island for a couple of hours to see some family and got my aunt's recipe for peach cobbler. It's on now! You can expect to get that cobbler at any function at my house. That cobbler is the inspiration behind what this blog is called. It's an inside reference, really, but it works.

Sunday night I headed over to Brooklyn to visit Hanifah Walidah. (Excuse me while I get all mushy). Hanifah is one of the most genuine, caring, and truly inspired people I know. She has set the bar for what a true friend is and I love her for that. She is a gem (and talented, too!). We went to a couple of house parties, the best one being at Guernica for a party called Ubiquita (house music all night long!). We also went to the Brooklyn Museum, hung out on Flatbush Avenue...oh! wait. So, get this: I get this email while I'm in Brooklyn from a woman who read my op-ed on Femmenoir.net. She reads my op-ed and tells me that I look extremely familiar to her but she can't figure out why, she says she either knows me from NY, New Orleans or the most far-fetched and unlikely of places...Sumter, SC. Well...I'm from Sumter, SC. I emailed her back and Hanifah and I had lunch with her the next day.

I've never seen this woman before in my life.

We don't know how we know each other, we didn't go to the same high school, but we did graduate the same year. The only thing we could think of is that we went to the same middle school. She went to Alice Drive as did I...for like a month and a half, anyway. Anyway, it was just an odd occurrence that she happened to email me from Brooklyn while I was in Brooklyn and that she lives just minutes away from where I was visiting. Hanifah and I actually bumped into her and her girlfriend the next day on our way to the subway.



Like I said earlier, I also got a chance to see my grandmother. She treated me and Hanifah to dinner at Cookers in Fort Green. Soul food restaurant with macaroni and cheese to die for!


Me with my house music-loving diva of a grandmother

I also saw Tim'm West while I was in New York. He, Hanifah and Mrk Drkfthr are working on a compilation CD together that you're going to hear me talk about...A LOT! (No, really, a lot.) The compilation is called The Blue State and it's the first manifestion of Soultrotta.com which is a "sweet mix of music and politics". All three of these folks are talented as all get out. I'm embarrassed to admit that I've already listened to Mrk Drkfthr's Elixifx CD like 8 thousand times since I've been home. ("Can I get a handful of that hair? Can I get a cupful of those lips? Yeah!"). It goes without saying how talented Hanifah is and if you're not familiar with Tim'm and the DeepDickollective, well, you're just sleepin'. Which reminds me, Hanifah and I checked Tim'm out in the Lower East Side at a spot called Blue Stockings where he did his reading from his newest book.



Tim'm and friends at Ubiquita

Let's see, what else? New Year's Eve was exceptional. There was a dinner party at the house where I once again made my cobbler, we had a New Year's ritual and then headed out to a house party hosted by photographer T'ai Freedom Ford. Good food, good vibes, good times.



Me, Hanifah and Tai Freedom Ford

Do you like Hanifah's scarf? I made it. No, really, look:


New Year's Day, we caught a FANTASTIC jam session in a brownstone in Bed-Stuy. I'll have more of those pics soon. There, we met up with Hanifah's pal, house music diva Deepa Soul who is also featured on The Blue State compilation CD (I told you you'd be hearing a lot about that CD from me). Also in attendence were the outrageously talented James sisters who make up The Onliest. These chicks sing, play the guitar, the keyboards and the drums. Both of them. I heard Tiffany sing more than Ganessa and that girl's voice is just...whew! That's not hype, that girl can sing her tail off!


Me & Hanifah with Deepa Soul bringing up the back



There's so much more to tell: more shows, more people, more relatives, but that's another post for another day, I need more cold medicine.

The reason why I blog...

I've always wanted to add a personal space to my site. I'm a person with a lot to say and fiddled around with various means of getting what I wanted to say out, but what I've really wanted all along was a blog.

Travels, prides, movies, events and music will be outlined here in my personal space and while I originally considered such an exercise narcissistic, I am no longer concerned with that. Like I said, I'm a person with a lot to say and I need my own space to do it.

Anything worth having is better when it's shared so I welcome contributors to the blog. Social commentary, stories, reviews or just a line about a pretty flower you saw this morning. I don't care. This blog should be a mosaic (*wink* - sorry inside reference).