The Ideologue

panel on the 'pioneers of the civil rights and labor movement' at harvard law.

2012-02-08T00:29:00.003-05:00

l - r: Charles Ogletree, the Jesse Climenko professor of law at Harvard Law School; Norman Hill, esteemed member and organizer for the Congress of Racial Equality and the Civil Rights Movement; Diane McWhorter, renowned historian and writer; William [Bill] Lucy, esteemed Labor and Civil Rights Movement leader; and the Reverend Mrs. Sephira Suttlesworth, public speaker and widow of the late Reverend Fred Shuttlesworth

charles ogletree: the resistance, the hatred, was just palpable. and it wasn't just a southern problem, it was throughout the country. these individuals stood strong and did a lot to make our community better.

one of the little girls growing up in alabama at the time was diane mcwhorter, who wrote an amazing book called 'carry me home', about the climactic battle of the civil rights revolution in birmingham. her book has won a number of literary awards - including the pulitzer prize, and it tells the story of reverend shuttlesworth and others' battle for justice, equality and civil rights.

diane mcwhorter: james farmer, who was the head of the congress for racial equality [core], was flying into montgomery from washington to help oversee the freedom rides, and there's an amazing story that i love to tell. here's my account that comes from farmer's frequent retelling of it:

'can you get me to that church, rev?', farmer asked.

'wrong question; the only question is how do i get you there'. shuttlesworth replied.

trying to get trough the mob, shuttlesworth got out of the cab. coke bottles broke against windows as he paused to register a strange smell - the first whiff of pure gas. then he got farmer out of the car. hiding in shuttlesworth's shadow, farmer follwed. shuttlesworth made his way through the crowd to the doors of the church without so much as a thread on his jacket disturbed.

years after the event, people would ask how he made it through. he'd say: 'i'm only a little fellow, but so was jesus christ'.

bill lucy: i moved to washington dc in 1966. i was green as a pool table and twice as square. [three] individuals had a political influence on my life and how i perceived the role of institutions. one was a writer and social activist, a fellow by the name of michael harrington, who wrote a tremendous analysis on the conditions of many people in this land - on the lack of education, under education, and powerlessness.

this work became the underpinning of lyndon johnson as he approached the so-called 'great society' period. reading mike's work raised the question for me: 'well, can't you do something more useful?'

the other people were dr. king [and his campaign for fairness and justice] and reverend shuttlesworth.

we tend to read someone else's history and judge the value of others' contributions. we should always remember that the labor, religious, civil rights coalitions have been connected for a long time. and we should always be mindful of the fact that we are working people. dr. king's perspective was that there is something fundamentally wrong when you work every day and you still cannot raise yourself out of poverty and beyond your condition.

this was the tread that ran through his view of the two great movements that ought to be arm in arm.

dr. king and reverend shuttlesworth also saw the plight of the poor in a domestic as well as a global context, and they really grew a movement to force government to play its proper role in alleviating the problems that government itself caused. the poor people's campaign drew people from all over the united states to washington dc to put a face on poverty - this campaign was an idea that ultimately succeeded because of people's determination to get themselves out of teir position of powerlessness and make themselves seen by the powers that be. the civil rights movement is defined as the 'civil rights movement', but it was a workers' rights movement. dr. king's last work was with te sanitation workers in tennessee. those 1300 men had decided for themselves that they would no longer be treated as children - that's probably one of the strongest messages.

they got tired of the law of the south that said a black man could go from being 'boy' to 'uncle

to 'grandpa' without ever being a man.

norman hill: 'salvation for a race, nation, or class must come from within. freedom is never granted, it is won. justice is never given, it is exacted. freedom and justice must be struggled for by the oppressed of all lands and races. and the struggle must be continuous, for freedom is never a final factor, but a continually evolving process to higher and higher levels of human, social , economic and political relationships'.

those words articulate the philosophy of change of a. phillip randolph.

we believe that people needed to at least meet the minimum standard for living to effectively pursue racial equality at home. and for a. phillip randolph and bayard rustin, the coalition was a partnership between organized labor and the civil rights movement.

randolph said it best: 'in concert with our fellow workers, black people can take decisive control of their destiny. with the unions they can approach their employers like equals, not as trembling slaves. indeed a [fair] contract is [in its highest form] another emancipation proclamation.

reverend mrs. shuttlesworth: i miss my husband dearly, but the good he left behind supersedes that.

as i strolled through the streets of cambridge earlier today, i was confronted with the reality that the influence of our nation's founders looms eternal - everywhere. i found myself yearning to know more about our collective story. i was reminded that the story was alive and well.

my late husband challenged us all in what would be his final interview. he said 'you must tell the story, the whole story, and then light a fire under future generations, letting them know that there exists a struggle between good and evil - our work is never done'.

he would endure beatings, bombings, arrests - persecution and countless threats against his life and the lives of his family. if he were here, he would tell you that knowing the outcome, he would do it all over again. his courage and fiery personality personality undergird his legacy. he demanded a better way of life for the poor and disenfranchised, whom he called 'the least, the lost, the left behind'.

i'll share with you my favorite story: the christmas eve bombing of his home, 1956.

he would tell you that it was about 9:45pm - one of his deacons and [the deacon's] wife were visiting. he was lying on the bed, the deacon in a chair and they were deep in conversation - the wives were in a room away.

the bomb went off. he said he knew it was a bomb. he said he knew it was for him.

he said the klan intended to blow him into heaven. the springs on the bed - there was no piece as large as his fist left. he landed in a gaping hole of what used to be the floor. the wall was at a 45 degree angle at this time and he could see the sky. he says that on his mind was the 27th chapter of the psalms - 'the lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall i fear?'

he would tell you that there was a rather large white police officer standing out front. he said that as he moved forward, the officer moved back. the officer said 'mr. shuttlesworth, i'll tell you what - if it was me, i would get out of town'.

and so he replied 'well, you're not me - and you go back an tell your klan brethren that if God can save me from this, i am here for the duration and the war has just begun'.

my only regret is that fred is not with us tonight to receive this honor for his life's work. he told me many times that while the accolades of his fellow man were appreciated, the one that he was most concerned about was that great reward he longed most to receive on that grand morning when he would finally behold the face of his maker.

he wanted nothing more than to hear those eternal words: 'well done, my good and faithful servant. well done.

'distant and [seemingly] different': the role of the white gaze in postbellum attempts at reconstruction.

2012-02-01T01:23:00.000-05:00

presenter: the alcotts, the emersons, and many notable and not-so-notable new englanders remained interested in the uplift of Black [people] in the distant south, well after the ratification of the 14th and 15th amendments - still, there are limits to what this correspondence between north and south friends can tell us.

the women from the concord bible society found john schuyler colfax carter and other students worthy of their support, but would they have felt the same way about Black children in their own region? would the sincerity and ambition they saw in southern Blacks carry over to the Black people that had already been living outside of slavery farther north? massachusetts had integrated its school more than a decade before the war, but that was not the case for free Black people in philadelphia and other northern cities who suffered due to inadequate and unequal segregated schools.

would concord's well-intentioned, white female reformers have been equally sympathetic to their plight? would putnam and holly in virginia have devoted the same dedication to the uplift of northern Black children? when putnam publicly called for the significant expansion of 'meaningful civil and political rights for freed people', did she see the connection between the economic and political discrimination of free Black [people] in the north and the former slaves for whom she was advocating in the south?

would the northern readers of her letters and articles in the national standard newspaper have done so? would the plight of 'distant and [seemingly] different' Black [people] in the south have affected northern readers' opinions of the Black people more familiar to them? were northern free Black [people] the same as recently freed slaves? did they see themselves as the same? and what did white [people] see when they looked at northern free Black [people] and recently freed slaves?

at this point in my research, when i try to get a sense of what northern Black [people], newly emancipated southern Black [people], and northern white people were thinking, it seems that the northern whites were entirely preoccupied with the newly freed slaves.

they seemed completely unaware and unconcerned with the plight of northern Black people.

they had no sense of the larger reform efforts that needed to be performed both in and outside the south.

so, what made me even want to approach this topic? i teach civil war and reconstruction every spring, and when i tell my students about it, i tell them 'the story's not a pretty one'. and i don't think my research is gonna be uplifting. i actually think it might be quite depressing.

because reconstruction failed. and in failed reconstruction, we can also see the complacency of northern whites; that they, too, for a variety of reasons, gave up on the reconstruction experiment and on commitment to broader racial justice.

i'd like to dig into the complexity of these issues as they existed in the north, especially among those who had been most committed to racial improvement and equality before and during the war.

we see whites who are well-intentioned and committed to this reform, but their ambitions are tinged with racism. you also see among the movers and shakers within the reform organizations [the freeman's aid society and so forth] people in the north who appear to be of the same mind - they are in lockstep, trying to send more teachers to the south, trying to send more money down there - being part of the same enterprise of uplifting with pure motive.

[allow me to paraphrase] an interesting piece of [correspondence] i read the other day: 'we should be careful about what we impress upon the south, because we're looking like hypocrites - we've gotta be careful with these federal mandates - they're demands that we're not impressing upon northern states'.

at this point, there are a ton of northern states that won't enfranchise northern Black people; they're concerned about integrating schools. in response, people would say 'the south screwed up - this is our opportunity to force their hand'.

the ideologue: i always found it interesting that the degradation of Blackness walked hand in hand with the definition and growth of our idea of whiteness througout our country's history. so, i'm wondering [and i know you're not writing a book about modern times, but]: what do you think about the inheritance that present-day white people were bequeathed?

how do you come to terms with that inclination to throw not only distance but disdain on a group of people? why do you think we're more inclined to work in haiti or certain african countries than rebuild detroit, cultivate compton, reverse gentrification in harlem and and resuscitate chicago? to what degree do you think this history of 'distance and disdain' built whiteness and why can't we seem to march to any other drum?

presenter: it's all about the cause - abolition is an heroic cause. morality's tied up in it. and it's a change that can actually be performed. focusing our attention on haiti has a moral component, but there is something deeply disturbing happening there - human suffering on a level that even Black people in detroit who are disenfranchised on all levels don't encounter - they are at least still americans.

we actually might even be able to [with our money, with our volunteerism] relieve some of this real suffering that we see in the news. the media also plays a large role - i'm gonna look at northern newspapers for discussion of racial problems and the problems of Black people in the north. maybe white papers will have them, but i won't be able to gauge how they affect white readers. i can only do that if i have primary accounts. who can shine the light on what is key in uncovering this expect the people who decide what gets printed?

participant: it's an interesting trend: around the time that white new englanders relinquish 'guardianship' over the Naragansett and the Wampanoag, they begin to gravitate toward the 'exotic Negroes'.

the tenor of the times began to become 'well, the Indians here, we'll give them $15 for their land and worry about those 'exotic' Indians to the west and the poor, wretched Negroes to the south. there's definitely something about Otherness here - it's alright to neglect detroit; haiti needs us much more.

mayflowers and mississippi.

2012-01-22T22:56:00.002-05:00

originally recited at a massmouth event on january 7

this gender thing.

2012-01-22T14:25:00.000-05:00

the ideologue: north park [university] was the first place where i began to make my bones as far as gender is concerned. people see me and think 'oh, of course - race is something that you confront every day; it should definitely be at the forefront of your mind' - and it makes sense. i'm from the south side of chicago and people often attach their assumptions to my identity and experiences. but the last time i checked, i was a woman. and even if i weren't, i'd still have just as much of a stake in the eradication of an unjust institution based on gender as any other citizen.

i often refer to white supremacy and male dominance [and the privilege it birthed] as twin blasphemies embedded in the foundation of this country. sometimes i look back on the lessons i've learned and can't believe there was ever a time when i critiqued race while leaving gender unscathed. and now that i've gone a bit further and had conversations with folks with a range of experiences from a number of communities [who don't identify as straight, whose first language isn't english, who don't kneel in front of crosses], i can't believe there was a time when i didn't consider xenophobia; i can't believe i ever thought an idea of justice sufficient without addressing the myriad experiences of queer people.

it astounds me still that i ever thought we could build a healthy society solely on the critique of race and gender.

but that's what a legacy of partial justice affords us.

i mentioned this the last time i spoke: people look at me and they see 'black', they see 'woman' - 'petite' probably registers. i understand how a society functions on the visual markers of identity, but people cannot automatically glean that i'm an anglophone [until i speak], that i'm straight [until i declare it], that i'm able-bodied -

and the matter further complicates itself when we don't note the space between identity and behavior.

i often remind people that there's a difference between being male and being male at my expense; that being born white is okay [in that we're all human and race is a construct], but that performing your whiteness is inherently dangerous because it's tethered to my marginalization and ruin.

that's where we must be very careful - 'cause unless we unpack it, how will we ever come to understand the subtleties between the seeds of oppression, the fruit they bear and the scant few who are privileged to partake? we'll be duped into believing that oppression rests in the nature of humanity; that we cannot eradicate or caution against it because we'd destroy ourselves. and that's just not true -

it's called 'second nature' because it's learned.

i'm not hyper-religious, but i do appreciate the language from time to time. i consider the unpacking of societies a ministry of sorts - in my opinion, patriarchy is a sin, white supremacy is a sin, heteronormativity and the phobias it produces are a sin. i don't know if any of you out there are 'of faith', but if the bar of our humanity allows us to be eager participants in a society that runs on the degradation of massive numbers of people, the bar is set far too low.

i've officially dubbed academia 'holy ground', 'cause whatever happens here will inundate society. y'all might go on to be at the head of a class one day; you might go on to be ministers, you might hold prominent positions in your neighborhoods - your words and behavior will have weight. if you decide to procreate [married or not], then you are gonna have the immense responsibility of helping configure the next generation.

people say things like: 'oh, i'm not a feminist, but that right to vote sure is cool'. 'oh, i ain't with that feminist stuff, but having a credit card in my own name is real convenient.

professor mlh: up until the 1970s, women weren't allowed to have cards in their own name.

the ideologue: '70s. the '70s, y'all.

for me, it's unreal. 'cause i sat at the dinner table, i sat in the pews of my churches and was constantly reminded that Blackness was fully human and equal; that we have played a role in the society from its beginning to the present day, that we have just as much a right to be present and heard as anyone else, and that i should be a proud bearer of that legacy -

until i got preached into the ground because i was female; that's hen i began to be admonished that in order to be 'covered' and in touch with what the Divine [they called it 'god'] had for my life, i needed a husband; that if i chose to go unmarried that i'd be without purpose or design, as i'd be 'head'less.

i'm a glutton for punishment, so i go around interviewing people about their cultural opinions. if i can't understand an idea, i'll go around to people who have a stake in perpetuating it. for example, when all these foolish white conversative men on tv first started talking about planned parenthood funding, i started to go around cambridge, boston, and somerville asking straight white men about their identity -

and was quickly confronted with the sad reality that it didn't lend itself to self-reflection as those identities pertain to doing away with unfairness.

...so the glutton for punishment that i am, i ask a black male seminarian why i need a covering, why i must be married, why i can't be autonomous -

he simply stated that it was [god's] will and that i should be relieved that i don't have to worry about being the head.

when i was school, i studied literature and philosophy; this sounded like aristotle's assertion that women are incomplete men to me.

so here i had this black man, 150 years after emancipation, formerly assumed to be 3/5 human, telling me that he was 'called' to be the head of someone else simply by virtue of having a penis.

this is what happens when we don't critique ourselves.

now that i've got a few years under my belt of considering what whiteness and [normative] maleness mean, and by extension, blackness and womanhood [in their societal limitations], i'm highly suspicious of this 'gender thing'. i don't rank oppressions, but gender is at the forefront of my mind now [after having neglected it for so long]. if i were to assert that whiteness has a history of wreaking havoc, everyone would agree with me; we could point to history books and track the legacy of that evil phantom called whiteness from its beginning in western europe to its tipping point in ellis island to its explosion in southern plantations and slums in burgeoning cities.

that black people are 5/5 human goes without saying; of course black suffrage shouldn't be questioned. of course, black people's rights to their bodies goes unquestioned - but this is insufficent.

we often say 'black' when we mean 'black men'.

if someone were to say 'hey, step on this auction block - i'd like to bid on you', people would be up in arms, and rightfully so. but somehow, if planned parenthood [granted, an organization with a racist past seated in eugenics] loses its funding because a group of white men don't want me to have options, it begs the question:

to what degree do i have autonomy over my own body?

and so it was courses in the women's studies catalog that encouraged me to take a cold, hard look at how our society came to be - it gave me additional language so i could continue to decipher a blasphemy beyond everyday language -

and i'm all the better for it.

african artwork at the museum of fine arts in boston.

2012-01-18T03:06:00.001-05:00

left: helmet mask, from the Vai peoples in Sierra Leone, late 19th and early 20th centuries [made with wood, black pigment, and metal]

this mask was associated with the education and socialization of young girls by the women's Sande society - into into which all girls were initiated at puberty - among the Vai peoples and their neighbors in [present-day] Liberia and Sierra Leone. senior women wore these masks at the termination of initiation ceremonies in order to embody Sowei, patron spirit of fecundity and grace. the mask's elegant coiffure, high forehead, compressed triangular face, and voluminous neck rolls [signifying wealth] embody goodness and female beauty. this masking tradition is unusual in that women commission masks form male carvers and are the ones who perform in the masquerade.

right: mask [idimu], from the Lega peoples in The Democratic Republic of Congo, late 19th and early 20th centuries [made of wood, raffia, and pigment]

for initiations of men and women into the Bwami society - which played political, economic, social, and religious roles among the Lega peoples - artists carved elegant oval masks and small figures from wood, bone, and ivory. as members moved through progressive grades within the society, they gained deeper knowledge about social and ethical relationships. this mask was associated with 'yananui' the second highest grade. the white color symbolizes death, ancestors, and spirits, and the raffia beard alludes to elders who guard against threats to social harmony. rather than dancing the mask with a full costume, male Bwami members wore it on the sides of their heads or displayed it on specially constructed fences.

left: Headdress by Olowe of Ise [Yoruba / Nigerian artist, about 1875 - 1938], crafted in the early 20th century [made of wood and pigment]

perhaps the most renowned and innovative artist was Olowe of Ise, whose architectural sculpture enjoyed the esteem of Yoruba rulers and is cherished in Western collections. this headdress is the only known mask by his hand. worn by a male dancer, the headdress was used in 'epa' masquerades that celebrated social roles and achievement. placed on the helmet base of double faces, a female figure bears an infant on her back, a fan and a fowl in her hands. she is she is preceded by a smaller figure and a dog. the three-dimensionality, high relief carving, and thick pigmentation are characteristic of Olowe's style.

right: Male Figure by Oroma Etiti Anam [active in the late 19th and early 20th centuries], crafted about 1910 [made of wood]

the Igbo [Ibo] peoples of the lower Niger region are notably individualistic traders who honor a man's achievements in personal shrines called 'ikenga'. the figural compositions on these shrines range from abstract to naturalistic. this male 'ikenga' figure, once part of such a shrine ensemble, has been attributed to Oroma Etiti Anam of the Aguleri-Nteje region of Nigeria. the man is seated on a stool that identifies him as a member of the Ozo men's association. above him, an openwork tier incorporates images alluding to the powers of animals, which include ram horns, snakes, hyenas, and a leopard.

cornel west.

2012-01-15T00:23:00.000-05:00

'this is where the black prophetic tradition is really important - [it reminds us that] you can't really move forward until you look back. and what the black prophetic tradition has taught america [which has been so obsessed with the future and present] is that if you don't have a sense of history, and that if you don't put yourself in a narrative that is rooted in something greater than money, fame, quick success, and instant gratification; that the capitalism we're all living under will create such hollow and shallow people that they're never gonna straighten their backs up about anything because they're all up for sale - that's what this system's all about. this is a major indictment. what kind of people are we really - when we examine ourselves and acknowledge [our unjust reality]? it's not just sad - that's pathological. [some would say] that's anti-american, no - i'm anti-injustice in america. that's not the same thing. i'm anti-injustice anywhere, but yes - in america, too. but if we're really serious about being poverty abolitionists, and about eradicating the effects of poverty, we've got to start with the youth'.

peter m. rutkoff / william b. scott.

2011-12-15T12:27:00.001-05:00

'the juke, or jook joint, also came from west africa. the word 'jook' derived from the baramba word 'dzugu', which means wicked or bad. at the end of the nineteenth century, in bad houses or the juke joints of the mississippi delta, Black musicians created the blues. on saturday night, Black sharecroppers went to juke joints to listen and dance, performing steps drawn from their Africanized christianity. for slaves, the passing of saturday night into sunday morning had marked a time-off from work. for later tenant farmers and sharecroppers, saturday night remained sacred. the blues originated in the saturday-sunday continuum. in freedom, saturday remained a time for celebration and spiritual renewal. on saturday night, african-americans went to the juke joint, danced the blues, and found joy'.

- an excerpt from 'fly away: the great african-american cultural migrations', published in 2010 by the johns hopkins university press.

richard wright.

2011-12-11T13:29:00.001-05:00

From the Library of America's 1991 restored version

'it was not the economics of communism, nor the great power of trade unions, nor the excitement of underground politics that claimed me; my attention was caught by the similarity of the experiences of workers in other lands, by the possibility of uniting scattered but kindred peoples into a whole. my cynicism - which had been my protection against an america that had cast me out - slid from me and, timidly, i began to wonder if a solution of unity was possible. my life as a Negro in america had led me to feel - though my helplessness had made me try to hide it from myself - that the problem of human unity was more important than bread, more important than physical living itself; for i felt that without a common bond uniting [humanity*], without a continuous current of shared thought and feeling circulating through the social system, like blood coursing through the body, there could be no living worthy of being called human.

i hungered to share the dominant assumptions of my time and act upon them. i did not want to feel, like an animal in a jungle, that the whole world was alien and hostile. i did not want to make individual war or individual peace. so far i had managed to keep humanly alive through transfusions from books. in my concrete relations with others i had encountered nothing to encourage me to believe in my feelings. it had been by denying what i saw with my eyes, disputing what i felt with body, that i had managed to keep my identity intact. but it to me that here at last in the realm of revolutionary expression was where Negro experience could find a home, a functioning value and role. out of the magazines i read came a passionate call for the experiences of the disinherited, and there were none of the lame lispings of the missionary in it. it did not say: 'be like us and we will like you, maybe.' it said 'if you possess enough courage to speak out what you are, you will find that you are not alone.' it urged life to believe in life.

i read on into the night; then, toward dawn, i swung from bed and inserted paper into the typewriter. feeling for the first time that i could speak to listening ears, i wrote a wild, crude poem in free verse, coining images of black hands playing, working, holding bayonets, stiffening finally in death...i read it and felt that in a clumsy way it linked white life with black, merged two streams of common experience.'

*original text reads 'men'

speaking the body legitimate: black vernacular and women's bodies in 20th century soapbox oratory.

2011-12-02T00:58:00.004-05:00

the ideologue: it's been said that the phrase 'up from' has been used in virtually every facet of black american history and subculture - 'up from' slavery, 'up from' a lowly blackness into 'new negrohood', 'up from' the south during the great migration - it's an arc that's been used to signify what many might call our 'narrative of ascent'. sometimes this gets muddled when we compel young black americans to translate their knowledge into the language the dominant society recognizes - and so while we run the risk of 'mother wit' becoming a watered down version of a valuable worldview, we also stand to establish and reaffirm our presence in the larger national and global discussion -

we become w.e.b. dubois' 'coworkers in the kingdom of culture'.

moving from this instruction [to translate 'black' knowledge into 'legitimate' knowledge] to participating in a society that seems to value folksiness over reason confuses me - it becomes an exercise in futility. could you speak to the roles that blackness and ascent play in soapbox oratory in the 20th century, and how they relate to our current mode of social discourse?

professor mary anne trasciatti: not only is there a tradition of speech that's nurtured in the african-american community, there's also recognition [among many groups of oppressed people] of the importance of eloquence. in order to enforce change, you've got to be eloquent. it's central to the tradition, but [it's also important to note that] it drew on other ones - namely the 19th century study of elocution.

african-americans recognized that elocution gives working class people, people of color, and [white] women an opportunity to deliver crafted ideas to the larger society. and then you have the tradition of 'borrowing' elocution and debate manuals. so when you combine an inclination to formulate ideas and deliver them well with disenfranchisement - you get an appreciation of voice.

and so you've got this tradition of borrowing elocution manuals working in conjunction with a group of historically oppressed people who've been denied literacy, the ability to [originally, at least] write and read. orality is central to my own culture as well - italian immigrant culture was so steeped in this tradition that even the newspapers read like oratory. this is why my partner and i are doing this soapboxing project.

now, why do [modern] americans fall for folksy language? that is a question that has dogged people who study, practice, and teach oratory since the time of plato - that people can be duped by someone who sounds good and is not wise. unfortunately, i don't have an answer for this. if i did, i'd probably be somewhere else, being the supreme ruler of the universe [audience laughs] -

there's a certain power inherent in sounding good, but at the same time, i don't think i would trash people who [manage to do so]. for example, martin luther king sounded good. and much of the 'i have a dream' speech is metaphor - that's all. there's not a great deal of argument there; it's not stating things we don't already know - it just sounds so beautiful and people were enraptured by it. most of the time, we don't watch the speech in its entirety; we begin at the most famous point. and we've got to remember that this was a speech he gave more than once; he did it in brooklyn.

and so i don't know if i'd be so quick to say that falling for someone who sounds good is inherently bad. i would assert that there is an entire tradition of disenfranchised people claiming that 'yes, we need to sound good, but we also need to engage and debate well'.

i admit that it often stems from an inclination to model the ways of being that people 'above' you implement.

the ideologue: thank you, professor. could you say a bit about the space that women's bodies occupied on the soapbox circuit?

mat: they would display either their sartorial side [thereby signalling class status] or would be ignored - certainly by the press. so they pretty much worked it so that the women who participated were most likely the women to get attention. beautiful women and middle class women. and they were very strategic about which they selected sites to set up. and part of the advantage was that you got an immediate audience [because of shock value].

people in boston would hang out of the windows gawking at these 'female interlopers', women who 'clearly didn't belong there' - women who were 'attractive', not worn or tired from doing any sort of labor.

so sites were strategically chosen and [i'm sure that] precautions were taken against violence. yes, they were sometimes taunted by the public, but that's not to say that women who spoke always experienced violence. i found out that in missoula [in 1909], the crowd did rush the soapbox when a woman began to speak - and immediately the negative press coverage began - she was a damsel in distress.

and yes, they often worked that 'in need of protection' thing. if you were threatened at all, guys would come to your aid - and this was in labor movements, not suffrage movements. but yes, guys in the crowd would rise up to defend you.

granted, the women who benefitted form this protection were considered the embodient of 'model femininity'. and therefore worthy of protection.

Mary Anne Trasciatti is a professor of Speech Communication, Rhetoric and Performance Studies at Hofstra University. This interview took place during her presentation entitled 'Athens or Anarchy? Soapbox Oratory and the Early 20th Century American City' at the Massachusetts Historical Society

a conversation of mythological proportions.

2011-11-28T01:05:00.001-05:00

Gregory Nagy is the Francis Jones professor of Classical Greek Literature [and professor of Comparative Literature] at Harvard University, and the Director for the Center for Hellenic Studies in Washington DC.

the ideologue: professor, what would you say to someone who claims that classics are irrelevant?

professor gregory nagy: well, they are relevant to life! and it's only people who have a very restrictive view of life that may question its relevance.

the ideologue: have you encountered many people who claim that's the case?

gn: all my life. all my academic life, sure. but it doesn't bother me.

the ideologue: hmph. well, alright [chuckles]. i recently interviewed thomas forrest kelly in the music department here at harvard -

gn: he's a very bright person.

the ideologue: oh, you know him! so, i attended one of his gregorian chant sessions and he said something that i felt was so poignant. he said that there's something essentially human about singing one's story. so, as someone in the field [of story by song], how would you build on that? do you feel there's something essentially human about the carrying of narratives?

gn: well, i try to favor anthropological approaches. and anthropological approaches to song - i think makes song a very organic part of society. especially in traditional societies. and the easiest way to answer that is this: i have a book called 'pindar's homer', which was published in 1990 - and which is available for free online by way of johns hopkins university press. and in the first chapter, i just build a whole model on the organic relationship of song [that includes dance] with society. i've thought a lot about that and i'd like for you to engage with it.

and you have have to pay to engage with it - open source!

the ideologue: ...and that's the perfect bridge! as a black chicagoan who grew up with southern grandparents, i'm very close to my vernacular tradition. i often encounter people who say that you can't do the black american vernacular tradition justice when one claims that it's outside of the larger american story - but i feel that for as long as we've been singing, dancing, and writing, we've had a dual narrative, both the face that we show the larger society and the full identity we keep for ourselves.

gn: yes, i like the way you said that...

the ideologue: ...is that considered a 'comparative literature'?

gn: to me, yeah. i can't speak for all of academia, but that sounds like something you can study in a very systematic and empirical way. and it's important.

the ideologue: i feel like i speak two cultural languages - only one's not afforded legitimacy.

gn: exactly. but there are some people like toni morrison who've made it part of their craft, who've sort of traveled from one register to the next.

the ideologue: [gestures] so this is the norton anthology of african american lit.

gn: who edits that?

the ideolouge: henry louis gates, jr. he's charming. sometimes i sit near him during letures at the dubois center - he seems pretty hilarious.

gn: oh, skip gates! isn't he charming? i like him a lot.

the ideologue: he seems like a colorful character. and encountering this book for the first time was quite the experience. for the first time in my life, i thumbed through a text and was able to say 'okay, no george washington, no thomas jefferson...' - it was as if i'd seen my own face for the first time. when the package arrived, i immediately knew what it was. this tome, thousands of pages [and two cds, as our tradition's beginnings were incredibly oral] in the making sought to reveal blackness to myself.

it was like coming home to myself.

gn: that's beautiful.

the ideolouge: i'm always concerned that mythologies that are respected and truly considered have creation stories. but black america's young in the scope of things - we're only a couple hundred years old. and so even though we have ways of taking and unpacking these 'peculiar institutions' in an event to explain away the world riddled with oppressions that was laid out for us, our framework smacks of our nascence. the creation stories that predate ours are west african and we're painfully unfamiliar with them.

i'm trying to get a handle on what i'm dealing with here: is this a mythology or a folklore?

gn: i think we're talking a bout a folklore - 'cause folklore doesn't make any presuppositions. a folklore isn't gonna say 'you've got to have a creation myth'. folklore studies what's there. and frankly, the black american experience is a modern experience - a very sad one in many ways. there are so many historical contingencies that it's hard to universalize.

the ideologue: ...just like the people who crafted it. i appreciate you and your time, professor. this is great.

highlights from the 'american history now' panel at harvard university.

2011-11-24T01:53:00.004-05:00

the panel, l-r: rebecca edwards [professor of history on the eloise ellery chair at vassar], ned blackhawk [western shoshone, professor of history and american studies at yale], seth rockman [associate professor of history at brown], sarah phillips [assistant professor of history at boston university], eric foner [dewitt clinton professor of history at columbia], and moderated by lisa mcgirr [professor of history at harvard]

rebecca edwards: ...we do very little to displace the idea of 'waves'; it continues to dominate the popular understanding of women's movements. i feel we need a rethinking - even in considering the history of women's activism [because] we don't necessarily have a compelling central story. and we need one that not only looks at women's activism, but incorporates thinking about women's economic roles, changes in family structure and reproduction, slavery and empire.

i decided to go out there and see where social and cultural history are. if you look at the current test weight for the ap us history exam, you'll find that 40 percent of the questions deal with social, cultural, and intellectual history. 35 percent deal with political institutions and behavior and public policy. then you have 15 percent that covers diplomacy and international relations.

and you have 10 percent that covers economic history - i'm really struck by that. a very smart ap student who really does grasp the material as it's been condensed in this american history might be able to tell you a great deal about the diverse people and culture that make up the united states, but not much about why none of them have a job. and in the era of occupy wall street, economic history has become quite diminished - and that is an interesting problem.

i think the new history has so much of its power because it's closely tied to civic, political and public purpose. i have a real obsession with that - i look out there and see that people will keep with that 'wave', claiming that nothing changed in women's lives until 1970-ish until there's some other compelling narrative out there. how do we create that kind of narrative out of what we're given?

ned blackhawk: the field of historiography has exploded [recently]. and is it even possible to stay conversant in what was once really specific fields - political history, colonial history? it just seems that people continue to stay focused in their previous area sof specializiation without fully engaging. i wonder about the impact of such a change - to hear that a thousand works are now constituting the field of study we call women's history - to call myself a women's historian would require a fairly strong familiarity with roughly 70 percent of those. how could one possibly stay conversant in all of these other areas?

seth rockman: we were able to host a remarkable group of scholars to talk about slavery capitalism and the centrality of slavery to american economic development and economic transformation in the period between the revolution and civil war. but i also wanted to go beyond economics and focus on the political and social ways that slavery was a national institution - rather than merely a regional one. so i wanted to focus on the national committment to white supremacy that linked people in the north and the south in a common set of understanding of racial order that would have consequences, not only for people living within slavery, but for free people of color seeking out meaningful citizenship in other parts of the country. i also wanted to then , in this direction, talk about whiteness studies, talk about the other ways in which we think about slavery as organizing much more in american life than merely the production of commodities on plantations removed from the central concerns of the rest of america. i wanted to argue that slavery is really central to the entire story.

i also focus on the transnational study of american geographical expansion, moving away from [an idea of] manifest destiny as a process that 'just happens' to a state-driven expansion of national boundaries, looking at it as a sort of the 'citizen imperialist' - and the ways in which the nation stated its power to expand the united states into a transcontintental nation recognizing that one could not have this conversation without taking into account relations with britain, with mexico, and a series of international contexts, including relations with a number of native empires like the comanche people. politics takes place in a number of different venues and the kinds of privileges and constraints that shape american life arise from many sources beyond dated legal apparatus - and soto look then at a number of public ways in which power gets exercised and contested outside of the realm of formal politics seems to be a crucial move.

sarah phillips: '...because the field developed to ask different kinds of questions and purposefully forge minds - at the beginning of her essay, for example, rebecca edwards mentions that perhaps the best indication of the field of women and gender history' ssuccess is that all the other essays show how their fields have been enriched by the incorporation of women and gender studies. but the same cannot be said of environmental history - [unfortunately] the environment is not one of those automatic potential categories.

i do want to take the opportunity this essay offers to grapple with the question of integration. i wanted to offer and environmental overview of all of american history. i couldn't just assert that human national interaction would help to determine patterns of economic, political, social authority - i wanted to show it. for most of its formative years, the field was linked to western history, with natuve american history and the question of the frontier. the expansion, trading and settlement, resource extraction, the fate of native americans - the main story all hinged on the conquest of nature and the commodification of certain parts of it. common law had to change, law had to favor some resources over others - an environmental interpretation is not only helpful, it's indispensible. '

eric foner: no matter how much theory you have, history has to be grounded in actual information. and that is often the death of theory. you know, i believe theory can inform our work, in many important ways, but i think most of the impact of theory has been essays urging [us] to take it more seriously. i would be hard-pressed to mention a large number of works that were actually theoretically informed in american history in a way that works in other disciplines. it may be that we're just an old-fashioned, too empirical group -

grand narratives of large chunks of american history seem to be the most popular out there - so there does seem to be a little gap between what historians are doing [which is tremendously creative] and what the broader public wants to read, which does fall back into this grand narrative.

in defense of canons.

2011-11-20T15:11:00.006-05:00

i've been thinking a great deal about the two academic loves of my life: greco-roman mythology and black american oral and literary tradition. many think that a course of study that addresses their relationship would be bizarre and overreaching at best, and mired in self-hatred at worst.

here's a link to such a conversation with a former professor.

after that exchange, i decided to decompress by articulating my intentions to a friend. this is what transpired.

the ideologue: '...and i told him what i tell everyone - that i intend to study the influence of greco-roman mythology and the classic tradition on certain aspects of our black narrative in the states. at this point, his expression reads a bit of confusion - but that's perfectly normal. very few people would juxtapose greek columns with the slave shacks of the antebellum and reconstruction years - i can see how that would require a leap.

i wanted to pose this to you because i need to bounce these ideas off someone...i am incredibly partial to the 'great-greats' of the western canon. i'd be remiss if i simply fell in love with them, like some sort of cultural stockholm syndrome, and so this canon also merits my critique - but i love them all the same. i've found many black americans' stance on cultural discovery quite similar to the charge that christians are given in the bible: 'be in this world, but not of this world'...it's as if black people [both through oppression rendered legitimate by law and the self-policing that resulted] feel compelled to acknowledge that we are, simply put, only ourselves, separate and unrelated to the common cultural fabric of this country. and so anyone who posits that we've been stewing in the same vat - well, it's blasphemous to say that. and to take things a step further, i believe that if we were to stop random black americans on the street, we'd find that they recognize the scales of justice, that they know that a cherub with golden locks and shiny bows is a symbol for love, that hades refers to the netherworld - even if none of them might've studied the classics. unfortunately, we are far more familiar with the canon under which we live than the ones we've been separated from. i think many people would be reluctant to admit that they are able to speak the 'language of oppressors' more than their 'mother tongue'.

i go on to tell the professor that for all its symbolism, gendered ideology, and gore, i loved how incredibly humanizing the stories are. i told him about a childhood on the south side of chicago filled with children's books of sanitized mythology, chock full of sassy medusas and braniac athenas instead of the misandry and bloodlust they actually embodied.

our exchange sounded very civil, there was no shouting, but conceptually, he was attempting to tear me apart. out of respect for an elder, i tried to rein in my defensiveness, but it was incredibly difficult. i'm used to people chipping away at the subject itself because we give very little weight to homer, sophocles, and plato outside the ivory tower. here's the critical difference: he began attacking me for my interest. that's what i found unacceptable. we are all moved by different things - math has never been my ministry; i'm not an accomplished musician; i wanted to be an organic chemist as a child, then i started reading myths. and that became my new language.

i didn't want anyone to chastise me for pursuing a field that i believe could explain away the world. that's what this professor was doing - i feel he was condemning me for seeking my face in a tradition that wasn't 'intended for us' as a people. but here's what many black americans fail to realize: those myths are some of the most moving stories you will ever read. it may take some time to undergo a shift in language - it can be alienating, but you'll soon find that if you read aeschuylus' prometheus bound, a story of a hero chained to a rock for stealing fire and sharing it with humanity, you'll find frederick douglass attempting to cast off his shackles. you'll read sophocles' antigone, the story of a young girl that saw the garish space between so-called 'justice' and 'rightness', named it, and appropriately buried her fallen brother in the process - and you'll see harriet tubman, shotgun in hand, conducting her siblings to freedom on an underground railroad in the face of a institution that deemed it unfit. especially for a woman.

your cultural eyes will undergo a critical change and the concept of justice will conjure images of human beings warming their hands around stolen fire, it will elicit the image of a young girl defying a king's edict to sprinkle dirt over her brother's corpse - and those images will move you.

i hate that the professor attempted to bastardize that alchemy by calling it an exercise in self-hatred. he claimed it was offensive because he believes there's no way to pursue this in an academically-minded and culturally competent way; that this undertaking cannot be pursued without giving more weight to white supremacy and the centrality of the western canon.

and this couldn't be more unfair. we've been here since the mid-1400s. we've been a captive audience since the beginning of [the land that would become] the united states' presence in the transatlantic slave trade - we've literally been a captive audience. we have been just as influenced by the other traditions that funneled into this 'grand experiment in democracy' as any of them have been influenced by us. it is never an exercise in self-hatred to seek one's own face and try to unravel the course of events that conspired to build your identity. i've said it before and i'll say it again: blackness was never the end game; it was always humanity. blackness, fragmented though it may be, was / is our coping mechanism. we conjure an ability to cope in the face of institutions engineered to undo us - that is incredibly human, not black. and i find it just as offensive when black people tell me to be limited as i do when the message come from 'outside'. we rob ourselves of our full identity when we do that.

dynamic as he was, i don't fully agree with el-hajj malik el-shabazz [malcolm x] - we're not africans living in america. we're black americans, our ancestors uprooted in the largest forced migration in human history, yes, but products of that event nonetheless. admitting that we speak the language, that yes, even our subcultural columns [music, food, vernacular / literature] are written in the 'language of oppressors' does not mean that we're happy with the state of affairs; it simply means that we are doing the necessary work to see ourselves fully -

and that renders us more capable of coming to terms with who we are, integrating that history into our consciousness, and moving forward. and no matter what language you speak, that is a human story.

we shouldn't want a mythology riddled with holes and based on lies.

i want to do the very best i can to prevent systems of oppression from continuing to manifest themselves. i believe the only way to do that is by figuring out the 'why' behind this jacked up society. it's our only safeguard. many people claim that it's the nature of humanity to oppress and destroy - that we're fallen, but i believe something different. i believe that we're clay by nature, that the broken parts of culture can only operate within the spaces we grant them -

and that we inherit our inclination to make space.

and we'd know that if we read south korean creation myths about brothers who set off in different directions and grew teeth [symbolic of aggression and consumption] because of distance that alienated them from one another. we'd know that if read plato's symposium [that zora neale hurston ultimately exhumed and painted 'black american' and 'southern'] that painted a picture of the first human beings with two heads, four arms and four legs, with a love for itself so pure and sufficient that the gods got jealous and split them in two, leaving them to roam the earth in search of restoration.

these myths tell us that distance and alienation breed contempt, and that seeking one's face is the highest calling there is.

and so for all their misandry, their bloodlust and chasms, mythology presents to us an opportunity to be fully human; it grants us the possibility of a humanity steeped in romance and fullness; it compels us to loftier ambitions with wings held by wax, it invites us to sit with eros just outside the city gates as it longs for aphrodite to pass, it warns us of pomegranate seeds and reprimands us with winter when we do not heed its words -

in short, myths give us what we need.

peculiar institutions.

2011-11-05T19:16:00.006-04:00

ideologue: i recently attended a lecture on the effects of social movements on the collective voice of women in the united states. the lecturer had written a book that chronicled the activity of women's organizations from the late 1880s until about a century later. she used language that alienated the narratives of women of color - which were crucial to the larger scope of female social activity both before and all throughout our history as a nation.

she asserted that lynching was not a feminist issue.

as someone who's a beneficiary of a number of different movements, i felt incredibly frustrated. during the entirety of her presentation, i thought 'women's suffrage is great, but it wouldn't amount to much for me without the passage of the thirteenth and fourteenth amendments, without voting rights acts and the elimination of grandfather clauses and literacy tests.' justice needs to be reinforced and protected at every turn.

i'm struggling with the issue of legitimacy. i'm having difficulty encouraging others [black women and people outside of that identity] to realize that this movement is just as much our birthright as anyone else's. how can we best combat this idea that anything that happens to black women is automatically black and not at all a legitimate contributor to women's studies?

professor rebecca edwards: this is one of the biggest questions out there about historiography. lynching is most definitely a feminist issue. and more importantly, lynching should have been an issue for white women's rights activists at the turn of the century, who were silent in a way that they weren't during the abolitionist movement. i would emphasize that there have been moments in american history when feminism has had a more substantial racial vision and there are moments when it's had a more constricted vision.

we're living this now.

right now, yes, we're dealing with important issues like domestic violence and rape, but we're losing a larger vision where peace and anti-racism and other things can also be done.

virginia woolf once said, 'as a woman, i have no country. as a woman, i want no country. as a woman, my country is the whole world'. feminism is large - it's about men and freeing them from restrictive roles as well. it's so big - so big that some people [like the professor] feel threatened.

- rebecca edwards is a professor of history on the eloise ellery chair at vassar college

latoya peterson.

2011-10-31T16:59:00.002-04:00

'our culture teaches boys that this is okay. that it is okay to use people. that you are expected to disregard a woman’s feelings, to do what you want with her, to find women who are pliable who you can mold, who will seek your favor and happily trade a few moments on her knees for her affection. our society teaches boys that this is okay, that this is what you do with women. the onus is on women not to be used. men do not hear “don’t be an abuser” in the same way men don’t hear “don’t be a rapist.” the onus is always on women keeping themselves safe, on women not putting themselves in positions to be attacked or exploited. and when something does happen, when teenagers being teenagers suddenly becomes a nation newsstory, everyone wants to talk about what the girl should have done to prevent herself from being in the situation'.

- on our collective culture and the amber cole fiasco

'we skim de pot / dey gib us de liquor...'

2011-10-06T02:26:00.012-04:00

jw: ...and so we have an [established] ability to respond; and i mean we do it well! all of us do it well.

ms: it's a honed ability.

jw: yes, it is. but it's been capitalized - you talkin' 'bout the commodification of our ability to resist! we talkin' about eminem as a rapper - him using that ability to resist. hip hop came out of an ability [and inclination] to resist. why do so many white people revel in this artform? we're allowing other people to revel in a tradition that came out of resistance. they just don't see us; it's that they see themselves - and if white people only see themselves [and not their white privilege through the lens of this artform birthed out of resistance], then they are doing nothing but further damage to black folks - and using our music to do it.

and that capitalization, that commodification has destroyed us.

and if i hear one more person refer to our greatest moment in history [wrapped up in] a malcolm x or an ella baker, i'mma snap - 'cause these hip hop artists aren't called out and they are the images of the things we don't need. they've taken a tool of enlightenment, our ability to resist [and have contributed to its bastardization]. right now we're talkin' about internalized oppression at its best - we're talkin' about the vehicle [their mouths] to sustain this - that is too deep for me.

we got kids out here - kids hearing this music thinking 'this speaks to my experience', when really it's providing whiteness for them [in the form of capitalist and misogynist desires]. because individual pursuits have never resulted in progress in our community. it's been a communal effort to resist. and if the last time we did that was during dr. king's time, we don' skipped out on two generations of progress.

ms: here's another problem i've found. black people all over the globe need to stop telling ourselves that our story started with the slave trade - because we existed way before then.

a woman who does historic reenactments down south said this to me recently: 'i had to stop sayin' we were slaves - because though we were enslaved, we were human beings'. we, at our core, were not slaves - we were full human beings. the slave trade was not our beginning.

and back on the subject of commodification: how many movements have a fist for an emblem and don't know where they got it? how many people reference dr. king and the civil rights movement as a source of inspiration?

ideologue: and turn around and disregard black folks today.

ms: and then claim to suffer the same way we do. you remember that facebook fiasco over prop 8? a lot of white folks were mad that more black people weren't standing in solidarity.

ideologue: meanwhile, we have poor and working class black folks can't get fresh groceries, living in food deserts.

ms: i love the way you put that. and i think what [mutual friend] was trying to say was: don't assume that whenever an opportunity to resist arises -

1. that black people are just this myopic body that moves and thinks the exact same way

2. that we're always going to be countercultural, on the side of those resisting

3. that we owe you our allegiance simply by virtue of the fact that we have been [and currently are] oppressed

and that acknowledges the fact that everyone really does understand that we've been oppressed - but instead of doing something about it, they aim to draw on our suffering. and you're trying to equate the oppressions. and what's behind the need to do that - it definitely takes away from both, never adds.

jw: there was a white guy that used to protest on campus against gay marriage. he would go on about how african-americans always lived life on the margins and how that compelled us to understand his point of view.

and i told him that was a strategy of the hegemonic system. it is. that means two things: one, you admit that i am being oppressed. and two, you've only adorned yourself with my struggle for your convenience. and it was obvious that the struggles of black america had nothing to do with him passing out anti-gay rhetoric on campus.

jw: ...unless we were to consider ourselves straight black allies [in resistance to white supremacy and heteronormativity]. if we could shift the conversation in that direction, then it would have much to do with us. and in the right way. but if you come at me with the idea that i need to be your ally because i'm part of an oppressed group...

ideologue: it's important to not equate oppressions, both the history and their present manifestations - though we must not equate them, we must consider the reality that they damn sho'll look alike. i'm a visual person, so sometimes i think of oppressions as these multifaceted prisms, hovering around doing their own little thing until their paths begin to converge.

when i leave a store after a white sales associate has been following me, and i find myself being catcalled by a group of black men hissing and saying inappropriate things to me, well, at that point, i'm in my head because the sales associate was letting me know [in their opinion] that i wasn't worth the space i was occupying. and so as i attempt to go about my day, these men are making my environment even more uncomfortable and unsafe; they're doing further damage to my psyche. they then proceed to curse me out like a three-legged dog because i didn't affirm their straight, black hypermasculinity by engaging them.

mind you, all this has happened in front of other people and police officers that don't care because well, black women don't have agency worth respecting and black men are assumed to be barbaric - so there's that.

that's when those systems of oppressions come damn close. that's when they converge.

and it's very much like george orwell said: 'in a time of universal deceit, telling the truth is a revolutionary act'. we live in a society that lusts after binaries. we love our black and white, our up and down, our centers and margins, and so we haven't been taught how to navigate those nuances very well at all. it's a grey area for us. and so we don't wanna admit that those covers of magazines that claim 'gay is the new black' are blasphemous because there's an entire narrative in this country behind negating our black experience, confusing it with something else, or using it for someone else's benefit.

but we can't commit the injustice of forgetting people who have a foot in either camp. there are black folks [in the range of queer communities] who catch hell from white folks on the outside and us at home. here's the thing i think we forget as black people: if you're straight [gender aside], you benefit from the fact that we live in a heteronormative society. period.

this is gonna be a major lesson in humility for us. because for so long, when people would take a look at our narrative and admit that we'd been systematically put under foot, they'd posit that blackness was to be equated with 'prayerful nobility and subjugated virtue'. poor us. but no one will admit that we're just as much a product of this broken society as everyone else. i could be a raging homophobe. i could be xenophobic all day long. i could go around drawing swastikas on everything and kicking small children - i've internalized just as much trash as anyone else [and by extension, so has all of black america]. my family has been here nearly three centuries - if that doesn't give me a front row seat to the trash that american society has so often been, i don't know what does.

it's like 'oh, your family came over from dublin in 1860? well, have a seat and lemme tell ya 'bout some african people who were stolen and brought here a century and a half before'. black folks in general need to understand that we are not beyond the reach of these other institutions. through our artforms and music, we've managed to reciprocate the gaze whiteness has had on us [and by extenstion, the rest of the world], but we have not managed to realize how so many of our attempts to reclaim our humaity from the grasp of white supremacy have come at the expense of women and children, of our lesbian, gay, trans, bi, poly, asexual, genderqueer, differently abled, and non-christian black counterparts. we're talkin' about gay civil rights leaders who couldn't talk about who they were kissing at night. the better part of our harlem renaissance artists - men sleeping with men, ladies with ladies.

i know we get weary after thinking about racism, after experiencing a never-ending oppression. but we cannot compel this larger society to treat us with a dignity we can't hold ourselves to. blackness has never been our end - it's been our avenue. this thing is cultivated, y'all; a real tabula rasa thing - constructed like any [ ]-ness you wanna talk about.

we can be guilty, too. and we often have been. and it's just dangerous to not think so. we have a hand in this, too.

*the title of this post is taken from an antebellum black american secular rhyme called 'we raise de wheat'

reverend edward jones iv on biblical and cultural narratives.

2011-10-04T16:31:00.003-04:00

reverend edward jones iv is the senior pastor at kingdom family worship center in matteson, il and works in the office of diversity at north park university in chicago

me: i often hear young people bemoan the fact that black people aren't very present in the literary, philosophical, biblical canons; but hasn't our image been cut out for hundreds of years? what do you think about this shift - this shift from knowing this was an [albeit unfair but normal] state of affairs to somehow handing over the weight of our narrative [and the implicit responsibility to carry and bequeath it] to someone else? what do you have to say about this as a third generation preacher [and bearer / interpreter of the biblical narrative]?

reverend jones: well, i think people are looking at the wrong thing. the biblical story has never been about african-americans. we're looking for an answer by asking the wrong questions. it's not about whether you look like the people represented in the text because jesus wasn't black. jesus was a first century jewish man. and so we can't say 'oh, because no black people are expressly mentioned, this is an invalid belief system'- we can still take this narrative and use it to reconcile ourselves to [the divine] and one another.

and if we look at it in those terms, i believe we'll begin to start asking the right questions. we'll understand that the bible was written during a certain point in time, in a certain region. it wasn't written last week in chicago on the southside. or in mississippi. or atlanta. but that does not invalidate the message.

it's short-sighted to say 'i will only believe if i feel an ethnic connection...'. even if there is no ethnic connection, there can be a spiritual, intellectual, emotional connection. we all [in some way, shape, or form] have been disconnected from someone or something and have tried to find a way to reconnect, to reconcile. and even if it's not an african-american speaking, that's an african-american story.

these are things that we live. i would encourage people to stop trying to find their ethnic group in the bible; you should try to find yourself. our [cultural] narrative is in the bible. and so when i read peter, and i read about how a man claimed he'd never walk away from christ [and then turned around and denied him three times] - that's me. and so i'm not looking at my ethnicity; i'm looking at 'me'.

i'm in the story. and if i'm in the story, african-americans are in the story. the story of the bible is about community, so if it affects me and changes me, it affects and changes my community. then if my community is transformed, i can open up the gospel, i can open up history, i can open up a prophet's texts and see us [as a people] in that situation.

because at that point, i'm not looking back - i'm looking forward.

professor thomas forrest kelly on the tradition of gregorian chant.

2011-10-02T02:00:00.004-04:00

thomas forrest kelly is the morton b. knafel professor at the harvard universtiy department of music

'i honestly believe this practice is built into the way humans operate. we have books with the words of this music from the 8th century, and we have books with the music from the very end of the 9th - apparently people have been singing this for much longer than that.

tonight we sang the same music our fellow human beings sang over a thousand years ago.

it must certainly be remembered.'

interview with professor mark warren.

2011-09-25T23:47:00.007-04:00

mark warren is an author and professor at the harvard graduate school of education

mark warren: i think people use the words 'solidarity' or 'activism', words like 'colleague' or 'collaborator' - and while i understand why people use the term 'ally', i think it keeps a kind of separation. this isn't just your struggle, it's everyone's struggle. certainly, it is people of color's fight for liberation, but [it's also a fight for white people to free themselves from the same teachings].

me: professor, do you think we [as a culture] have lost our sense of urgency?

mark warren: of course - i don't think we've had that sense of urgency for a while.

me: a friend of mine told me a story about a young white woman that exclaimed 'african people are different. black people have been in our backyard for years'. a number of white folks told me to 'focus on africa'. i get it. black americans are still americans; many of us reap the benefits of the imperialism and colonization our country's participated in. then, i become grafted into these dialogues about said issues - and i hear these [what i call] 'dark continent' things: people will rave about how 'international' and 'exotic' the people are. and while i don't aim to be anyone's pet - i find my 'plain' black american-ness footing the bill for a meal it didn't eat. and i feel unheard.

so, professor, what are your frustrations? if you got the opportunity to grab everyone by the collar [of every color] and say one thing...let's get orwellian: if you could control every radio, internet connection, television, everything -

mark warren: 'wake up'! i'd say 'wake up!' because i do think that many people are asleep. a lot of people think of these things as separate. people think 'i'll do some work in africa', 'i'll help black people here', 'i'll work with gay people' or 'i'll work on poverty'. it's like you said: why are we choosing one oppression? we have a lot ot work to do on a lot of fronts.

they're all connected, these institutions. we're all connected, which goes back to my earlier point about why racism is relevant [and should matter] to white people.

me: i watched a documentary about a navajo reservation. i learned a number of these places don't have running water; conditions can be quite harsh, they have very few opportunities. these images bumped up against the very binary, very black / white way we often view race relations. it didn't sit right with me that issues of this navajo group [the descendants of people who'd been here long before the first african slaves were brought] fall between the cracks of our limited racial understanding.

professor, what's something about this good, noble fight that you wish you'd known earlier?

mark warren: well, i look at it as a parent now, you know, the way history is taught to my daughter - there's no life to it. there's a little bit more of a sense of those struggles faced by oppressed people for justice and liberation. a little more.

unfortunately, it's still buried in this overarching avalanche of dominant narratvies. yeah, i wish i would've been taught history from the 'people's point of view' so i wouldn't have to spend the rest of my life [unlearning] this. my daughter just finished a paper on social organization in the mali empire. they spend a year on pre-modern history of the entire world -

they spend one day on africa. and this is in a fairly progessive school district.

the truth is, this is still going on. she wanted to learn about something not fully represented in the curriculum. granted, this teacher doesn't write the curriculum, but we're still assigning different values to cultures - why renaissance art and not the art being produced in west africa at the same time? hopefully, we're providing her with enough ways of viewing the world. something that she can ultimately build on.

she'll need something she can build on.

annette gordon-reed.

2011-09-25T21:49:00.000-04:00

'the inability, the reluctance, the difficulty of seeing enslaved individuals always struck me as a problem, and i think it's a legacy of slavery: the way that carries over to the way people see blacks today...[we need] to have empathy [for] people, instead of pity - pity is putting someone 'over there'; empathy [establishes] a connection that allows you to think of that person as something like yourself. and once you do that, it becomes difficult to treat that person in ways that you would not like to be treated.'

the conversation: dialogue with a former professor.

2011-09-21T00:45:00.001-04:00

the acropolis

during a recent trip home to chicago, i got an opportunity to chat with a former professor. he asked me what i was up to in boston and whether i had any academic plans. i told him that i'd like to study the connections between greco-roman mythology and the black american vernacular [oral and literary canon]. this is part of the exchange that followed.

professor: 'some years ago , i was down near maxwell street [in chicago]. i was there back when black american business owners were selling their items. and these street musicians were out there. they had their gitars and they were really talented. around that time, i saw an ad recognizing these three opera singers, three men - 'the three tenors'.

and i started thinking, 'okay, what is the difference between 'the three tenors' and this group of brothers out here [on maxwell street]? why is it that some get worldwide recognition and are considered to be some kind of elite, remarkably accomplished men, and these [incredibly talented] people go around with a cup asking people for donations? i believe it's because they are a part of the dominant society. dominant society satisfies itself by establishing and imposing [its own standards] and focusing on itself.

it has no standing, it is deserving of no universal standing because it's all politcal - and so i'm very content to be divorced from them [western european standards and the people who directly benefit by being the standard] - and i'm not looking for their approval, i'm not looking to join what they're doing, and i'm not of the mindset that if i have any connection with them, that it gives me credibility.

in fact, i admire what you're doing, but i find that concept insulting. that my credibility is legitimate because i can identify with them. i would very much like to see your line of questioning develop and to see how it plays out.

me: [when i pursue this further], i hope to find connections between the two canons that fly in the face of white supremacy - and i completely get what you're saying. in my pursuit of this, i'm not trying to augment the place that 'whiteness as standard' has in our society.

i want us to revel in the fact that blackness [and its history] is legitmate all on its own. it has its own feet - but i never bought into the idea of a fragmented blackness, that we were this 'pure, undiluted people', noble engineers that emerged untouched by all the people and cultures around it. the gritty truth is that we speak the language, the quarters are close [and have been for centuries]; we can talk about telling our own stories and being our own people, but the real muck tells us that massa can be daddy, too.

and a lot of people think this is blasphemous, but i never thought blackness was the end game. i always thought humanity was - blackness was just the avenue we traversed to 'get us back home'.

i've always loved both literary canons, and it was always offensive to me that so many black people thought the space between the two was so garish. whether we like it or not, we're here, and we've been here for more than [four] centuries. we've been stewing in this culture from its beginnings. [i'm sad to say that] we're more familiar with the greco-roman tradition than we are with the west african ones. it's not right, it's not healthy, but that's our truth for now.

the noblest thing a society can do is tell the truth about how it came to be [and therefore, why it operates the way it does]. both canons are legitimate and i don't want it to seem like blackness should warm its hands at the western canon's fire - that is not what i want - i just want to remind us that we're not static, that we're more than what we've been told we are and, by extension, that our cultural influences are as wide and ranging as anything we've ever produced.

professor: ...i'd say it's the same old thing: someone wants us to legitimate ourselves by them, which is an ideological perspective wheich grants them superiority. and i've got to deal with that barrier before i can appreciate what you're saying. i am incredibly interested in seeing what you're going to do with this. i appreciate your enthusiasm and energy that you're demonstrating while pursuing these issues.

mini-interview with judy richardson and janet jemmott moses.

2011-09-15T17:00:00.001-04:00

i had the pleasure of hearing judy richardson and janet jemmott speak at the museum of african american history in boston. they contributed to a book of first-hand accounts of the sncc women that worked in the south setting up 'freedom schools' and registering black voters during the 1960s.

me: i'm from chicago; my grandparents are from mound bayou, mississippi. when i first began to consider history and talked to my grandparents about the past, i realized that systems of oppression are inherited - and i assumed that the motivation to do something about them was as well.

so when i meet my generational counterparts, i often encounter these ideas that technology levels playing fields, that somehow because we aren't in the same physical location we were half a century ago that we'd 'arrived', that somehow [to allude to richard wright's '12 million black voices'] 'we'd managed to shake off three hundred years of fear in three hours'.

how can i convince folks in our 'post-racial, post-feminist' utopia [and a disturbing percentage of my generation] that there are still things to fight for?

judy richardson / janet jemmot moses [interspersed]: we saw the world change. it was wonderful for us because we knew that what we were doing would have an effect. it's gotten much harder - and i often hear 'oh no, it was much harder back then, with the dogs and [constant threat of violence]'. but i'd say it's hard now because it's much more undercover.

a couple people is all it takes. how many people did we have in our camp - fifty? sixty?

and what we had coming out of that was changing the [then-current] structure of a country. taking jim crow out of the mississippi delta. we couldn't have predicted that barack obama would be president - we didn't think it was possible.

we were working to protect our basic rights. but know this - barack obama could never have been president had we not done the necessary work to really enfranchise the working black people of the delta [and others like them all over the country].

so, the women's movement, the disabilities act, the voting rights act propelled major, major change in this country - and so you should not be discouraged.

how do we start making the constitution something that includes [us all], works for [us all], protects [us all]?

take your passions - take your passions and run your movement. others will see and be inspired to move with you. you can't talk people outta their comfort zone. it doesn't have to be a national movement. see, back then, we weren't focusing on what was -

we were focusing on what should be.

'speak, hands, for me...'

2011-09-14T14:45:00.001-04:00

'if you are silent about your pain, they'll kill you and say you enjoyed it' - zora neale hurston

i've been in love with the power of stories for as long as i can remember.

i've defeated hundred-headed beasts with hercules, given sisyphus a hand with that stone, hidden in an attic with anne and escaped to freedom by moonlight to the soundtrack of baying hounds -

i've held the reins of helios' cart, flown too close with icarus and considered the heavens with ovid -

i lay with zora and ate pears -

narratives have always carried me.

which is why 'the help' has got to be given some attention. here are the most common critiques of my critiques:

1. 'you're just upset about every little thing...' / 'you're just concerned about what white people are gonna think' / 'it's just a story': art imitates life, and life art. you can no more separate a cultural narrative from its historical [and current] backdrop than you can a language from its linguistic roots or the people who speak it. to claim that stories [and twists on stories via privilege] are always innocent, that the change is not abhorrent [and that the changes have less weight than they actually carry] is irresponsible and naive.

if the only way the story of your culture can be heard is if an outsider [one who directly benefits from your silence and / or the distortion of your narrative] speaks for you, it means you are either incompetent or rendered unable.

so what if you have all these rights but you can't fully participate in society? who cares if you are crushed underneath the vault of heaven or struggling to climb atop it if you are unwilling or unable to articulate your experience? the ability and desire to articulate one's experience is one of the most amazing testiments to being.

what are we if we're aren't our stories? if we aren't the hands of our own bodies, the limbs that part the air and announce 'i am here'?

nothing is 'just a story'.

2. 'so what if it is told wrong? it's still being told': it's human to have differing points of view, and if the world were perfect [and by that i mean a world in which all voices were heard and given the same weight] i wouldn't have a problem with them. the fact is, we're not talking about what to bring to the sunday school potluck - we're talking about a jacked up system that ran on the emotional and physical exertions of human beings [and their descendants] predicated on a peculiar institution forged centuries earlier.

and in kind, we've gone through centuries of people getting our narrative wrong - and because it was illegal to write down our story for so long, because punishment for carrying that narrative so often meant death or worse, some of our stories were left behind in the holds of cargo ships, left lingering in the air above fields, and whispered into children's ears late at night, not to be remembered when they awoke.

the only way the world would have them was if they were buffoonish or childlike. a well-rounded, mature Blackness has always been perceived as threatening in the larger society - threatening because [simply by being] it attacked the notions of perpetually mournful, knuckle-dragging, hat-wringing, sullenness.

i know our story's not all roses, but it's not all misery either -

that's not being Black. that's being wretched.

3. 'that was then , this is now': systems of oppression have amazing backing; they have the status quo on their side - centuries of science, literature, history, art in defense of its coffers. it wants to defend those coffers because a lot of blood, sweat, and tears went into ther amassing of that fortune - in benefit and at the expense of white folks' humanity.

whenever i encounter people who think my interpretation of events is overdramatic, i remind them that entire empires grew larger on the theft of our ancestors, that our country has been predicated on the suffering of so many people groups, and that the only thing more powerful than an idea is the possible evil that propels them -

that is what systems of oppression understand. systems know that design and engineering are crucial to the longevity of oppression. systems know that people who know themselves don't change their names or assimilate their tongues, that people who carry their narratives inside them can't stomach sitting at the feet of a culture that bleaches it.

they are familiar with their true visage and won't dare allow anyone to get away with distorting it.

they will not enjoy it.

interview with tim wise.

2011-09-05T20:02:00.000-04:00

me: my question is one of 'limited privilege'. i always try to operate from a place of humanity, so i'm trying to wrap my mind around being straight and cis-gendered and american and a host of other things. a lot of people doubt my privilege because they assume i've got this overwhelming knapsack of victimhood - i'm 'downtrodden and black and female' [i'm supposed to scrub floors and sing my lamentations to jesus] - so here's my question:

when i go home to the southside of chicago and i see certain neighborhoods decaying from the manifestations of these horrible oppressions, how can i tell black men, who are far more likely to end up in jail than on a podium defending a doctoral thesis, how do i tell them that they're privileged as men?

how do i tell white women [who only see a good 70% of their rightful paycheck] 'hey, your 70 percent's still better than my 58%'. how do i do this?

tim wise: first, it's always hard for me, as a straight, white male [now of the upper middle class] - the only non-dominant status that i have is that i'm jewish, but even that is transformed into whiteness in this country. it's a non-dominant space, but it's not as non-dominant as it once was, so i always try to be careful about telling anyone else how to explain their own privilege when i have to deal with mine.

but here's what i'd say: i think that in order to get people to own their privilege [whether it is their racial privilege, their gender, sexuality, their financial, able-bodied or religious privilege] - i find that it always helps to start with me.

if i want to get a person who's jewish to deal with the fact that they still have white privilege [assuming they are 'white'], i have to talk about mine. i'm not gonna be able to get them to own their stuff if i don't put mine out there. if i don't tell my privilege story ['in spite of being jewish, here are the advantages i have']. if i were a gay man, i'd say: 'you know, in spite of that, in spite of my status as a target, i'm still conscious of the way i benefit as a man [or being white, or middle class] - because i think the reason people don't wanna acknowledge their privilege is:

a. they have pain around other identities that they want to be recognized - and that's understandable. we've all gotta recognize that.

b. because if i acknowledge my privilege [white, straight, male - whatever it is], i am in some way raising the possibility that i'm not as good a person as i thought. and we're all very invested in being 'good people' - we don't wanna consider the idea that we can be implicated in someone's suffering.

if i'm implicated in someone's suffering, it diminishes my sense of goodness. if i come to you and say to you: 'look, i'm implicated in suffering; i'm trying not to be, and i'm trying to challenge that, but it's real'.

if i told you that about me, you're more likely to tell me that about you [otherwise, you'll think i'm just trying to get you to out yourself].

i've been getting these emails from white men this past year - this year they've been particularly thoughtful. what they're writing is not 'f**k you, you're crazy' - they're writing, 'i don't doubt that racism is real, or that on average and in general whiteness has its advantages - but i've been out of work for 20 weeks, i've been out of work for almost a year' -

how do we come to terms with that?

mini-interview with a ghanan woman.

2011-09-05T16:14:00.002-04:00

'how many basketball players are we going to have? how many rappers are we going to have? get your education - go to school. you have all the opportunity - back home we don't have things like that.

sometimes it hurts to see american black people - because our history books tell us that your [ancestors] gave their lives, their blood to get you the freedom you're enjoying now - why do you want to throw it away?

i think sometimes american black people think their country owes them - what do they owe you? they should remember: no one can take your education from you. if you educate yourself, it's yours forever. and you have so many more opportunities than we do back in africa - no one can take that from you.

just do it.

i have nieces and nephews - two of them have their master's degrees. somehow, they came from africa - and now they are successful. you were born here, your ancestors died here - why should you let your grandfathers who fought for this nation slip away - why throw away that legacy?

go ahead and do the very best you can for yourself. for you.

it's better to work, to toil - then you can set up your life any way you want.'

kristin armstrong.

2011-05-06T11:29:00.001-04:00

'do the things you used to talk about doing but never did. know when to let go and when to hold on tight. stop rushing. don't be intimidated to say it like it is. stop apologizing all the time. learn to say no, so your yes has some oomph. spend time with the friends who lift you up, and cut loose the ones who bring you down. stop giving your power away. be more concerned with being interested than interesting. be old enough to appreciate your freedom, be young enough to enjoy it . finally know who you are'

on becoming and being an ally.

2011-05-05T17:20:00.001-04:00

the good people at the university of massachusetts' boston campus gave me the opportunity to 'jawjack' about social justice and culture ad nauseam, so in true shaun gray form, i took it. so, my dear, make a sandwich, sit down, have a listen.

part one

part two

the overall message:

'for me, being an ally and being a decent human being are so connected. being an ally has enabled me to be so courageous 'cause i've been around so many other people who have their feet firmly planted - people saying 'no this is what i won't abide. this is what i live my life for'. simply put, being an ally has broadened my ability to be decently human.

when i was a little kid, i thought reading all these books made me human. now that i'm an adult, i've met so many people and heard so many stories that my capacity for love and empathy is that much greater - and, in my opinion, our collective potential for leaving this culture better than the way we found it is that much greater as well.

i'm a dork through and through - when i was in school i studied literature and philosophy. you see, when it came to the greeks, i felt they had an amazing definition of love. in plato's symposium, love is described as this perfect balance of overabundance and need, this wretchedly open being that just lies there outside the city gates, hoping to catch a glimpse of aphrodite as she passes. it's a very beautiful image. and i love that image because it means that love is a great equalizer -

it means that love [and by extension, justice] truly meets people where they are, and that it aims to satisfy all cavities, all low places, all needs.'

we are your brothers and sisters.

2011-05-04T18:03:00.000-04:00

'war school' by ben newman on vimeo

lou austin

2011-04-25T02:17:00.004-04:00

'you are here for a purpose. there is not a duplicate of you in the whole wide world; there never has been, there never will be. you were brought here now to fill a certain need. take time to consider what it might be'

on critiquing canons: a letter to emerson.

2011-04-22T12:45:00.027-04:00

i plan to re-enroll in classes this fall, and i've reached the first hurdle - the writing placement test. the subject matter was so enticing that i thought i'd share my response with you. there was an excerpt from ralph waldo emerson posted - he went on about how we needed to break away from the 'literary masters of yesteryear' and forge our own consciousness, thereby heralding the greats of the past and keeping them in their place. here's my response:

dear mr. emerson,

the wealth of a society rests in its inclination and ability to critique its canons. yes, for centuries we've been plagued with the underpinnings of our many shakespeares, dantes, and miltons - the literary inheritance of the world has been wrought with their wretched moors, infernal circles and fallen would've-been-deities -

but they comprise the very columns of our understanding, without which our humanity would collapse.

i have a centuries-old cultural inheritance in this country. one that includes illiteracy and 'lack of legitimacy' in esteemed academia. there is no canon by which i am glorified. i am a beneficiary of a beautiful, fragmented history, the progress and pitfalls of which i live every day.

so, i long to critique our canons. to 'shade in the madonna', as it were. i long to retire to the recesses of my mind and with an outward-facing soul dine with william, dante, and john. for you, who are affirmed by our canon, this appears to be backward; perhaps you'd think that i'm inclined to spend my life reading the same texts, resuscitating them when they've neared lifelessness.

but i have much to breathe into the cultural monolith. i breathe new life into ovid's metamorphoses by setting him alongside zora neale hurston. i believe we'd do well to lend our ears to the stories of mules and pear trees. i feel i do well to temper aristotle's low regard for the female gender by countering him with a feminist ethics of care. there is much to be said of social justice that embodies a concept of love plucked fresh from plato's symposium, that oh-so-perfect balance of overabundance and need.

so, ralph - while i appreciate your perspective, i'm afraid to say that I must disagree. the canon should not be reserved for the twilight hours.

an upturned face regarding the stars is forever appropriate.

and while these institutions of higher learning often do very little to stir the stale academic airs, i would encourage you to bear in mind that there are those of us yet waiting to be canonized. there is some beautiful critique in seeing parallels between slave narratives and greco-roman myth; the heart-wrenching accounts of one's journey from bondage to freedom and literacy are rife with allusions to sisyphus and tantalus.

and yes, you're right: the face of the Divine is far too brilliant to experience secondhand. but this does not mean that our texts cannot point the way, serving as markers to encourage posterity to embrace their human birthright. not too much regard, or too little, but just enough - just enough to treasure what humanity has cultivated and not be beset by subsequent centuries of earnest yet maddening imitation.

i would encourage you to bear in mind that there are those of us who are living the dreams of those who came before, who labored before, who longed and pined - those of us with a story to tell.

we'll critique your canon, and boy, will we do it well.

planned parenthood rally, boston common.

2011-03-21T16:37:00.001-04:00

on alliance: bending toward justice.

2011-03-10T16:12:00.019-05:00

being an ally is a profound ministry, an intentional mode of operation, a series of actions that play a role in transforming a society for its own good - whether or not it's popular or convenient.

after thinking about this for some time, it occurred to me that the very nature of alliance is dynamic, not simply nominal; it requires a daily shedding of distorted worldviews, not the mere questioning and picking apart of them [examination doesn't matter much if you swallow the nonsense]; that it draws a line in the sand of a society that aims to stamp out both progress and the potential for progress by way of heralding the luster of yesteryear and sheen of the status quo.

and while the manifestations of unjust institutions vary, they are, at their core, eerily similar. so, here they are - my top ten rules for allies:

#1: do not question my need of an ally: some may call it 'alliance', others 'assistance', and most just call it 'the right thing to do', but here are the facts: ideas [and the institutions from and into which they emanate and recylcle] do not simply die. they may shed their skin between generations [in an attempt to confuse the younger set who so often mistake movement for forward progress [see 'postbellum bondage', otherwise known as sharecropping], or they may regenerate after having lost a limb [consider the rise of white supremacist groups like the klan during the reconstruction years, after that most gory of civil wars].

that said, unjust institutions, like diseases, aim to perpetuate themselves and spread. the changing of form does not do away with the necessity of safeguards - just because i am enfranchised does not mean i'll be able to exercise that privilege at the polls. just because i live in the 'first world' does not mean i'll have a decent shot at a sound education or nutritional food. just because women are capable of walking outside without a male escort does not mean it's safe for her to do so.

to paraphrase the introduction to victor hugo's 'les miserables', 'so long as there shall exist a need, by reason of law and custom, a social condemnation which, in the midst of civilization, artificially creates a hell on earth, there shall be a need for [allies] such as this'.

we are not post-racial, nor are we post-feminist. there is yet work to be done. only the lazy and ill-informed believe otherwise.

#2. leave the blazing guns at home: potential allies, do not - and i repeat - do not confuse monopolizing conversation with being helpful. i'm sure you enjoyed sitting in the front row of your black / africana [or women's] studies classes. i'm sure your professors were enthralled by your 567-page diatribe on why you changed your last name to 'x' in solidarity -

but that is wasted here. in fact, it's despised. this is a sure fire way to get kicked in the face. do not come into a space that aims to unwrap the unheard stories of marginalized groups and stomp all over it.

i call this pulling a 'manifest destiny'. while allegiance in its purest sense does not require the silence of privileged parties, it does require a humility [which, if you wanna go the religious route, means dying unto oneself daily - and intentionally so] with which so many are unfamiliar. in many ways, oppression forces its 'victims' to have an internal dialogue; it requires that the [conscious] oppressed individual must resign themselves to the recesses of their own identity in order to cope.

hence the term 'double consciousness'. and don't be someone on the margins who, in order to navigate this complex culture, needs to find one's place on a number of fronts - they'd put the greatest philosophers that ever lived to shame.

in effect, being marginalized literally means being unheard and disregarded. this is why it is beyond blasphemous to perpetuate this kind of privileged arrogance within conscious circles.

#3. i am not the representative of the 'colored masses': thank you for being intentional about ensuring that marginalized voices get heard. that said, there is a fine, lemme repeat - fiiiiiiiiine line between being intentional and tokenizing someone. the subtleties of oppression are areas you'll need to learn to traverse with finesse if you want to be a decent ally. another horrific instrument of oppression is the fragmentation of one's humanity. of the more than 300 million americans, 13% are black [roughly 37 million] - that means that there is no box you can set up that will do that kind of population justice.

we are individuals.

when you hold the opinion of a marginalized individual in such high esteem [without the necessary critical analysis], you run the risk of heeding dangerous counsel [which is just - well, dumb]. it doesn't work in the church and it doesn't cut it in racial reconciliatory settings.

it should also be noted that you fail to see the person for the metaphorical dogwood trees, you look past how the internalization of such jacked up cultural rhetoric does away with true understanding and personhood. it also makes us not trust you. sweetness, there are no tablets, there is no liturgy, no series of ritual sacrifices that will set things right. this type of large scale healing will only come about if we plug in the necessary human aspect. a person is neither a mouthpiece nor a doormat.

now go read some feminist philosophers on the 'ethics of care'.

#4. klan or not, all of 'em triflin': if you want to be an ally, you must treat us better than the people who hate us. must. this is non-negotiatble. that means you don't pet my hair like you're at the zoo, that means you don't ask me record your voicemail greeting in 'black speech', shine your shoes, or tie your corset. 'nuff said.

#5. unpack and disregard your paternalistic urges: section [a]: st. augustine was terribly sexist, but he got one thing right: the true definition of continence is doing the right thing at the right time for the right reasons. this means that you can serve people 4600 miles away in a land where english isn't spoken, but it means to do so with a sense of understanding that isn't usually discussed. we are called to do the necessary work wherever we may be needed, yes, but traveling halfway around the world to feed people when your neighbor is starving is disgusting and remiss.

this is not to say that someone can't feel led to do good works around the world, but the reasons must be right. it is inexcusable to step over your neighbor in order to satiate your white pangs for 'the poor, wretched exotic'. inexcusable. 1 in 4 people in the queer community is assaulted by their partner [and that's just the statistic for the reported incidents]. 700,000 women are sexually assaulted in the states every year. a black man is 14 times more like to be killed than his white counterparts. our middle class is nearly gone. people are going on shooting rampages. people are stripping women of their rights to their own bodies.

you don't need a passport to do good things.

section [b]: if you decide to do reconciliatory work at home, do not 'other' the people you're helping. just because you didn't board a plane to get to the work site does not mean you didn't bring your messed up ideas about the people you're serving [yes, serving] with you.

if there is a hurricane in a certain city on louisiana, do not call the displaced people refugees. they are in their homeland. the country their ancestors had a hand in building.

...and don't make it nearly impossible for them to move back.

#6. to everything, there is a season: it's not right to leave any one behind. it's not right to ask that someone wait for their slice of justice. it's irresponsible and hurtful to make someone negate a part of themselves to further your cause. any cause that aims to be palatable by cutting off the 'frayed edges' is an incomplete one.

there are 50 years between the passage of the 15th and 19th amendments. consult your history. there is never an appropriate time to to tell someone to wait for the 'just due'.

#7. if you've seen one, you've seen 'em all: even the way people experience oppression is influenced by other factors. i constantly mention that my blackness and womanhood are tempered by my americanness, my straightness, my being cis-gendered and able-bodied. by no means am i part of the 'hey, it could be worse' camp, but i constantly remind myself that though i constantly catch hell, there are certain circles of the ol' inferno to which i'll never be privy because no one [myself included] is oppressed in every way.

there is no way to understand all systems. they are too intricate, their manifestations too multitudinous to count. and even if they could be pegged, it would be unjust and disrespectful to equate them.

#8. no trojan horses: no shells of solidarity. no half-assed attempts at understanding. either you're in or you're out. the ability to go home and decompress is a luxury that not everyone can afford. and while it's impossible to have a hand in every jar, a sign for every cause and enough energy to march on washington every week, we do expect you to keep your word.

be prepared to unpack some mess. don't smirk in disbelief when we tell you about our experience [we don't aim to 'convince' you that we're oppressed], don't recoil in fear from things we've lived. do not marvel at us, noting how 'strong you black women are' - that is human strength; it's a shame so few tap into it - that strength is a steely resolve born of necessity, that great mother of invention. do not tell us that you 'don't know how we do it', or how you 'wish you could be as strong' -

'cause, as a teacher of mine used to say, 'pressure busts pipes' - and honey, you couldn't be prepared for this thing if you read every slave narrative in the canon.

#9. you do not call the shots: you do not walk into somebody's house and tell them how much to spend on their furniture. you do not walk into someone's house of worship and tell them how to pray. you do not walk into somebody's kitchen and add salt to all their dishes. you do not tell people how much emphasis to place on the issues of their lives.

i may have opinions up the wazoo, but i know better than to walk into a space where i'm a privileged party and apply my value system to their proceedings.

you, potentional ally, must understand that your personal opinions have been directly shaped by the culture of which you're a part and the body in which you navigate it. without first hand experience, you are not equipped to understand the severity of loss in certain respects.

especially if you don't come from a culture that places emphasis on collectivism and subcultural inheritance. you don't know the power of redemption in certain circles; the importance of a word might be lost on you.

your opinions might reflect the lack of care our nation has shown throughout its history. for you, an 'x' might simply be an 'x', the reason why someone insists on being called black instead of african-american might be unfathomable -

but it is not for you to decide. it is not for you to decide. it is NOT for you to decide.

#10. you are not sisyphus in the equation: i don't want to hear that you're tired or how difficult it is for you to be an ally and play by a whole new set of rules. i know i mentioned that this work does not require silence, but it does require you to stop whining.

i know you must feel terrible, learning about these terrible systems and how they choke the life out of the people whose knees buckle under their weight. i know you're overwhelmed and battling guilt and despair -

but i didn't come out of the womb prepared for this, either. i learned how to navigate this culture in a far more hurtful way -

personal experience.

this thing might hit you like a ton of bricks, but you have reprieve. you can lobby and march and work hard and retreat to your home at the end of the day and take solace in the fact that you don't embody your affiliation. 'other' is not your name [in this context], 'neglected' not your birthright, 'wretched' not your condition -

and until you live every day with this particular weight on your back, until you carry the privation [that you inherited from generations past], pressing on in spite of those hundreds of stinging daily injustices, in spite of those feelings of inferiority and otherness that were imposed on you, until your battle takes place in your school, your church, your town hall, your very own body - until your fate is directly linked to whether or not you pay attention -

hush. and focus the attention on the people who don't have the option of inaction.

bonus: you cannot be an ally if you do no show up. do not expect us to do your homework for you. we are not here to help you get your brownie badge. we don't exist [nor do we conjure these issues] so that you have something to do on your saturday afternoons. you cannot be an agent of change if you do not show up.

injustice does not sleep. we have to show up.

of fault, myth, and distance.

2011-03-07T15:47:00.028-05:00

on internalization and where the fault lies

white woman #1: '...yeah, but what about one that black family [in the movie] that was like 'oh, we're not on welfare'? why'd they make such a big deal about being associated with the other black people? it was like they were ashamed or disgusted or something.'

white woman #2:'...i felt this problem in the movie: whenever white people talked about black people, it was always to pathologize - you know, the usual - no money, broken home...'

white woman #3:'that's the assumption with [all project inhabitants]. if you say you're from a project, there are certain assumptions. i work two jobs. the assumption is 'then why are you in a project'?

me: 'i think the racial difference comes in - well, i'll frame it this way: if you juxtapose the image of a white southern family with twelve kids [who might be in dire straits, 'cause hey, the south wasn't doing too well for a while] and a black southern family with twelve kids, you'll think 'oh, look at that poor family' [because class will rear its ugly head]. that individual family is jacked up, those people are irresponsible with money, the classless fiends...' -

but if you look at a black family with twelve kids, you'll think that's their inherent condition - you're gonna think 'oh, that's the entire group. they're in dire straits because they're dark, and dark people are bad with money. blackness has always been associated with poverty and irresponsibility - those are stereotypes hundreds of years in the making'.

one of my issues [and i struggle with this a great deal], being a black person who grew up in a comfortable christian family was this: we had an amazing home, always had cars, were always warm, i never had to struggle for anything. the emphasis in my family was on excellence, serving god, and education - and so when we talk about the 'model black family' in the projects and about how they longed to throw distance between themselves and the pathology, i can't blame them -

because we don't talk about the idea of internalized shame as much as we should. i'm just as much a product of this culture as anyone else here. i've been subject to the same indoctrination. and so when i tell people i'm from the south side of chicago, people assume things. they assume that i went to a crappy school, that i have a promiscuous past - they assume tons of things. and so in an event to appear and feel like a full, human being, yeah - i'm gonna throw distance between myself and the stereotype. i come from a neighborhood where i was the overwhelming majority, where we recited the pledge of allegiance and then sang the black national anthem -

then i go out into the larger culture and realize that i'm only 13%, where i have this porcelain monolith of people trying to tell me who i am. in the face of that, i'm gonna do everything in my power to tell you 'no, i'm not'. and i might do that by saying 'no, no - i'm black, but i can give you the etymological breakdown of half your dictionary and read ancient greek better than plato himself - not like that black person in the projects'.

and honestly, can you blame me? i mean, you can, i just aim to assert that there are myriad reasons underpinning not just the actions of those with 'privilege' - but also that there's an entire discourse happening with the people who experience the assumption of hardship'.

on the myth of the self-made individual

chinese-american woman: 'we have a myth in this country. the myth of the self-made individual, and we find this rhetoric in much of libertarianism - that you are who you are [and, by extension, occupy the spaces you do] because of your choices and as a direct result of your free will. europe hasn't internalized this idea - and so their social democratic parties reflect that. i think that's a crucial difference.

but here, it really offends people when you ask them to examine why they have what they have, why some person doesn't have what they have, because it's like 'well, i worked for this. are you saying i'm a bad person?' - there's an entire pathology around asserting that you're a self-made individual. it's about fighting demonization, and part of fighting that assumption is understanding that it's a systemic issue.

white woman #2: 'and the flip side of that coin is 'if i worked so hard, i have everything that i have because i deserve it. and people who don't have what i have don't deserve it. insert whatever 'moral' implications you'd like.

white man: 'yeah, that one woman kept saying 'if we let them in, all the things we worked hard for will be gone...'

me: 'it's very 'cold dead hands'. y'all know, dude from the nra - charlton heston. i think that in addition to the self-made individual myth, the larger american culture has an affinity for taking credit for that which they didn't morally acquire.

for example, folks who say 'wow, this is all of our land' - the truth is, no - we got a chunk of it outta the louisiana purchase for three cents an acre. we had to commit genocide to get this land. we had to ship 25 million people across the ocean [half of which perished on the way, leaving 4% of the remainder to end up in the states] to cultivate the land. that's the truth. and that's why it's so important to talk about the myth of the self-made person. another one of the tensions that i experience with that myth [and in my racial group, specifically] is this: i find myself really disgruntled and dissatisfied with my subculture in particular when i hear people nihilistically reference the institutions at play [now, i don't doubt their existence - you'll never hear me claim that this 'thing' isn't engineered] -

and i'd say that with the help of certain allies, black americans have never been granted anything they didn't have to sweat for. i can say that with absolute confidence. yeah, quakers helped out a bit. yeah, those abolitionists sure were nifty, but at the end of the day, we have what we have and i inherited what i did because those beautiful, determined black people dared to snatch their humanity out of some decrepit culture's hands - and i feel blessed to have that as my subcultural legacy.

but i feel really dissatisfied by my subculture and generation because we're so quick to reference the catastrophically short distance between the cradle and the jailhouse and not consider what we did in times past. we've managed to lose sight of our cultural inheritance - times were a lot harder then, but somehow we had more congresspeople in 1870 than we do now. what's wrong with us that we're so quick to mention that disgustingly short space, but somehow we've made a modern religion of hanging on the corner?

150 years ago, it was illegal for more than three black people to congregate publicly - unless it was on an auction block or in the field. but we forgot about that.

if you know that crooked police overpatrol your neighborhood, looking for reasons to lock you up, you need to stay your butt inside or go to the library. i mean to say that there were times when our cultural focus as a people was on something positive as a whole. and i shouldn't romanticize, but after the market crashed in '29, there were entire black communities that managed to circumvent the hell that the larger society brought upon itself.

...and somehow we had the upper hand, because we realized that the american dream, that wind-burned face headed westward, that individualistic 'whatever' - that's not us. we're a collective - and if i perish, you perish. but somehow, we managed to 'get free' and 'get rights' and we forgot that we literally came here chained to one another, worked right next to one another, and unfortunately swallowed the idea of individualism whole.

and we were deceived. now we got people cutting records like 'get rich or die trying'. we're inundated with the rhetoric of 'i'mma get mine, you better get yours' - somehow i've been mapping the course of my racial history and i've seen how the tide turned. i don't know how to resurrect that. how do i remind my generation of the black subculture that this 'grand american thing' is a lie?

on fragmented identity and the spaces between

white woman #3: '...so they need to recapture the kinship, is what you were saying, right? it's about teamwork - right?

me: '...and i know that i constantly bemoan the issues of blackness - about how we police ourselves, how we've internalized racism and honed our self-hating skills into an art form rivaled only by the tower of babel, about how difficult it can be to break away from the church - but i really believe that in order to navigate this multicultural world...

i am just so glad that i had a firm footing in my own - it's weird, but i know that i'm an american citizen. and since i've been tracing my family tree, i know that my family's been here 200 years at the very least - and even with those roots, i often find myself not feeling like this is my country.

and so it's weird to navigate this sense of americanism, and to wrap my mind around the fact that i live in the 'first world' and that i have these 'american privileges', and that i participate in this orwellian, imperialistic machine. it's weird to wrap my mind around that because my subcultural impulse is to vehemently assert the fact that i don't feel american. that i'm both part and separate, that this nation is both a shining testament to and the leering noose in spite of blackness - that the black ingredients don't melt into the fabled american pot as well as the others.

i want to scream 'no, that's white americans - it's them doing that'. it's very 1960s 'no vietcong ever called me nigger' - 'no, it's the people at home bombing my churches and murdering little girls. it's the people at home burning crosses and raping me for sport. it's the people at 'home' i'm worried about'.

it's the weirdest thing, to be a person with no roots in your own country.

chinese-american woman: '...well we look at structural oppression, and a lot of people make the comparison between race and gender, but race oppression is [in its day-to-day manifestations] very different from gender oppression - from overfamiliarity to consent to segregation. very different animal. and i think that after the 1960s, after the civil rights movement, we came into a new era in structural oppression surrounding race - we're nominally integrated, and we have appropriation by popular culture by, essentially, large, multinational conglomerates and white investors taking on symbols like 'baby phat', tupac - and maybe not even consciously putting forth their message, but the human aspect just falls out of the picture -

but 'get rich or die trying' will sell.

i definitely think we've reached a new phase in structural oppression - one that surrounds the appropriation of identity where a group's ability to maintain the reins of their identity is no longer in their hands.

me: 'that's so dangerous. now, i've never had the pleasure of going to africa, but i've heard stories of people selling chicago bulls t-shirts. and as a black chicagoan, that tickles me because sometimes i look at people from the Continent and i see my cousins in them, or an aunt, sometimes a close friend -

but one of my friends told me that on her trip, she heard them calling each other 'nigger'. and i wanted to walk to the coast, swim across the ocean, walk to that country and shake people - because i wanted to tell people 'this is not affection. why are you adorning yourselves with our old shackles? they stole us [with assistance], they traded us, they changed our language and yours - they shifted your borders, stole your resources and stained all mention of you in the annals of history -

why are you glorifying their slur?

because every time someone goes on a missions trip to 'save them', or 'minister' or 'swat flies from their faces', it's usually a well-meaning white christian. and i say this as both an emotional and cultural critique: i've heard people say 'oh, i'm going on a missions trip to africa' -

my response has always been 'oh, really? 'cause there are fifty-something countries over there. they have more countries in the Continent than we have states in our nation [and you know them by name], so give them the respect they so deserve and call them by name. which one are you going to? grant egypt, tunisia, and togo and benin the same linguistic specificity you grant italy, spain, england, and france'.

so they went there well-intentioned, aching to do good things, but because so many black americans have that gulf of distance - they never see us and they don't hear our side of the story. did you all know that there are schoolgirls playing on the ruins of the slave trade like a jungle gym? the physical ruins of institutions, like ideas, don't die.

and i don't know why we think they do.

i intentionally engage african people in this heartbreaking conversation: i ask what they hear and think about us. it's a fascination, because essentially my roots have been severed. we as black americans so often look to africa for some sense of self - like a younger sibling to an older one asking them to describe their late mother's face -

and they tell me that they think we're lazy. that we haven't one enough with the freedom and liberties we've garnered. our decorum and intelligence are called into question because we are dark, broken phantoms throwing money and gyrating on poles on their tv screens.

we are, to them, the very coons we tried not to be 100 years ago.

basically, we were sold the same lies about one another, so they think we're ignorant, we think they're barbaric; they think we have no class, we imagine them with bones through their noses - it's the sickest, most twisted thing and it burns me up that the gulf between africans from the Continent and black americans is as wide as the atlantic.

boston's walk for choice 2011.

2011-02-26T22:12:00.008-05:00

lord, hold my mule.

2011-02-22T15:33:00.005-05:00

i enjoy fussing.

i can't tell you how many pictures there are of me as a child with a scowl on my face. i was delightful, but from a very early age i was quite comfortable expressing my discontent. this is a tradition that i continue to relish in my now mid-twenties. thank god our current culture has so many avenues for manifesting one's disgruntled narcissism. yes, thank god for blogs.

so in an event to relieve stress [so as to not go a rampage], here they are: the ten demographics that i think are ruining life.

1. the ass/crotch sort: have you ever boarded a bus, plopped down all comfortable-like in your seat to have someone walk up and place their gentials right at eye-level? the irritating thing is, this sort doesn't restrict this behavior to a crowded bus or train. there might be seven empty seats, but 'crotchy mcgee' will forsake the chance to be a decent citizen to plant themselves right in front of your face. that said, get your junk out of my face!

remedy: head butt or sucker punch, tasers work in a pinch

2. historians / journalists that paint rosy portrayals: if i read one more historical narrative or newspaper article about 'good slaveowners', i will pull all my hair out. hell, it might just fall out. you'll never hear about people glorifying nazis' personal attributes while condemning the vicious rampage they executed. well, someone who does this will never say it and keep their job.

let's face facts, mes amies: if you buy people, you suck. if you came to hold the deed to their existence by way of inheritance and you don't free them immediately, you suck. if you willingly engage in a society that tolerates said goings on, you suck. if you are simply apathetic in the face of a culture that carries on this way, you suck ad infinitum. quit making people who don't want to think critically feel better.

remedy: chop off hands, print truthful literature about country's foundation and current state of affairs

3. oblivious parents: this one goes out to the parents who bring their little ones out in public and allow them to cry, cry, cry. i get that after living with a little schnookums one might become desensitized to the odious sound that is wailing, but that doesn't mean that the public has the same superpower. this phenomenon is very common in restaurants and movie theaters.

remedy: leave little schnookums at home, or if all else fails, a lil' bourbon ain't never hurt nobody

4. people that 'bestride the narrow world like a colossus': i couldn't fight the opportunity to use a shakespeare quote for one of these. now - if you are moving in a crowd, you say 'excuse me'. 'excuse me' covers a multitude of sins. just the other day, i was in a crowded venue when a guy decided that everyone around him was a speedbump. he probably had parents that just let him cry all day long in the middle of restaurants and movie theaters.

remedy: extend leg in immediate path. when target descends and makes contact with floor, point and guffaw.

5. people that don't believe in lines: a lot of my grrrrr comes from riding public transportation. look, i'm in cambridge during wintertime - everyone waiting for the bus is cold and ready to get to their destination. do not cut in line. 'nuff said.

remedy: these people can be tripped as well, steal their wallet just out of spite

6. the anti-'skinny bitch' collective: i'm learning about fat phobia and 'anti-physically luscious folk' rhetoric. coming into knowledge about harsh day-to-day exchanges [that i don't experience] is daunting to say the least. that said, critiquing this thing requires a finesse that not many have. if you are a full-figured dame and you stroll up and call me anything but my name, i'm gonna lay down my cross and meet you where you are.

...that means fight you. or engage in a battle of wits only known by fans of 'the princess bride'.

there's a difference between changing the culture by challenging its beauty standards and attempting to shame me in my size 2 pants. this is also a lesson for all you beautiful brown people that use the 'more melanin, thicker lips, fuller hair' meme for the same end. you don't set things right by demonizing empty attributes. deconstruct jacked up culture by critiquing actions.

remedy: a massive bonfire [but a somehow eco-friendly one - perhaps a massive shredding and subsequent recycling endeavor] of all magazines.

7. invaders from the planet 'no personal space': i'm not a germophobe. i promise. my hand sanitizer bottles are respectable sizes and honestly, i use them primarily because they smell so darn good.

that said, citizens of the world, when i first meet you, i don't want a hug, nor do i want the faux-european series of kisses on the cheek. i don't know you. that is strange. don't be offended if i wave from four feet away or stick to shaking your hand. i'm giving you eye contact, a smile, and probably asking you questions [and often repeating your name to make sure i got it right]. that should be more than enough to tide you over 'til you meet the next person that doesn't need personal space.

remedy: always wear an 'i have rabies' label, or hawk up major batch of snot upon first meeting people, proceed to wipe nose with palm of hand

8. people who mock my interests: i've always been weird. i'm alright with it. i've always loved greek myths more that i have fairy tales. i've never enjoyed sharing my toys [especially my easy bake oven or gigapets] and i don't think i should be shamed into doing so. i actually crave trips to the museum, symphony and opera -

i am who i am. would you prefer if i sold cocaine?

remedy: people need to mind their business. yup, that's it.

9. 'namechangers': if i haven't made you privy to my nickname, call me what jesus and my mother saw fit to name me.

this extends to the rest of my labels as well: i call myself 'black american' for a reason. you can ask why, but don't do so derisively - because i might call you 'massa'.

remedy: go with the government name. if you don't know it, ask me.

10. where privilege meets opinion: one thing i adore about human beings is our ability to wonder and mull things over. this inclination has paid off in inventions, arias, sculpture, literature - all in all, beautiful things.

this ability falls short when we forget that there is no better teacher than experience. we can pontificate and stack and collapse concepts all we want, but when our opinions about larger cultural issues fall in line with hurting or silencing people - we have to do better.

just because you have an opinion doesn't mean it's completely formed. there are entire histories behind why we think what we think [as we are not nearly as inspired and full of genesis as we assume we are]. there are narratives at play that lend special understanding to some - these deserve respect.

just because you can, doesn't mean you should. you never know whom you're hurting.

remedy: sit. unplug ears. listen.

explaining dark and mysterious things.

2011-02-07T15:35:00.019-05:00

'i am not ashamed of my grandparents for having been slaves. i am only ashamed of myself for having at one time been ashamed. about eighty years ago, they were told that they were free, united with others of our country in everything pertaining to the common good, and, in everything social, separate like the fingers of the hand. and they believed it. they exulted in it. they stayed in their place, worked hard, and brought up my father to do the same. but my grandfather is the one...it was he who caused the trouble -

on his death-bed he called my father to him and said, "son, after i'm gone i want you to keep up the good fight. i never told you, but our life is a war and i have been a traitor all my born days, a spy in the enemy's country every since i give up my gun back in the reconstruction. live with your head in the lion's mouth. i want you to over come 'em with yeses, undermine 'em with grins, agree 'em to death and destruction, let 'em swoller you till they vomit or bust wide open".

they thought the old man had gone out of his mind. he had been the meekest of men, a quiet old man who never made any trouble, yet on his deathbed he had called himself a traitor and spy - and what puzzled me was that the old man had defined it as treachery.. and whenever things went well for me i remembered my grandfather and felt guilty and uncomfortable. it was as though i was carrying out his advice in spite of myself. i was praised by the lily-white men of the town. i was considered an example of desirable conduct - just as my grandfather had been. when i was praised for my conduct i felt a guilt that in some way i was doing something that was really against the wishes of the white folks, that if they had understood they would have desired me to act just the opposite, that i should have been sullen and mean, and that really would have been what they wanted'

- from ralph ellison's 'invisible man'

i honestly don't know where to begin. i usually kick these entries off with some coy one-liner or esteemed quote of old, but i don't have one this time.

how do i approach my history with the humility and courage it requires? how do i muster the strength to sift through slave schedules and bills of sale while not equating my cushy experience with those of my forebearers?

there are no lash marks on my back. i've never been hungry or dehumanized in a way that risked my life. there are no phantoms of hooded men dancing behind my eyelids, no gashes from dogs nipping at my heels, nor is there any remnant of heat from crosses set aflame on my lawn -

i am fortunate, and the freedoms i exercise have not been earned by my own hand.

...and i like to think that i approach my personal [and larger] cultural inheritance with some sense of decency and respect; that even after all these years and generations that broke against the shores of time that i, some young twentysomething, that i, some granddaughter of cotton pickers, that i, some fortunate child reaping someone else's prosperity have done something to make my great-greats proud, that i've managed to hold their stories in my hand, carry their decrees on my back and lived to embody the freedom with which they so desperately wished to navigate this world -

but i'm not so sure.

it breaks my heart to hear people write about my ancestors as if they were a mindless horde that roamed the country after emancipation, as if they were baying hounds that itched to get free and didn't know what to do when the time came. how dare we strip them of that credit - some of the noblest displays of courage in the face of hardship were performed by black americans.

i always felt i embodied the best parts of my culture. after having grown up in the black church and attending an all black school in my all black neighborhood on the south side of chicago, i grew up and ate, slept, and breathed my culture. i grew up in a house with my grandparents, southerners in the highest form, who regaled me with stories of catching possums and raccoons, my grandparents who had been raised in the oldest black town in our nation's history [mound bayou, mississippi - founded by two emancipated slaves and 99.6% black according to the latest census], my grandparents who owned the land they picked cotton on, my grandparents who decided to come to chicago and make my mother part of the first generation of our family to be born in the north - the first generation of northerners after having been in the country over 200 years.

and people diminish my history and their legacy by likening them to maladapted dolts that didn't know their behinds from the northern star. they place paternalistic yearnings where veneration should be and we miss out as a nation by doing so.

we conveniently forget that just a little while ago, we weren't even considered human. when i check genealogy records for my family before a certain time, i have to look for dashes where names should be, i have to look for human beings in between mentions of pots, pans, and goats because some group of vicious people decided that last 2/5s of their humanity were just out of their reach.

you cannot tell me that a group of people determined to snatch their humanity out of the hands of a decrepit culture didn't know what they were doing.

some time ago, i was talking to a group of first generation americans about cultural responsibility. they told me about feeling torn between two lands, about the open-ended possibility this country offers and the cavern that the former country left behind. they told me about feeling compelled to carry their culture on their backs. i always felt fortunate in this respect because i have established roots in this country. it's often been said that black americans have the only true 'american' experience, as their past was torn out of them, forcing them to use what little remained to cultivate something new.

but when i seriously considered my history, i realized that between capture, shipment, and the auction block; that between forced labor, no rights, and sexual abuse written into law, that between the inability to gather lawfully, speak one's own language or write one's name, that between families being ripped apart and haphazardly thrown together, that after enlisting in an army to fight wars for unequal pay, protection, or veneration; after dismissal, segregation, no respect and terrorism by the hands of other citizens [and sometimes relatives, hello!] -

that we, beautiful black people, were compelled to carry our culture on our collective back -

and on our shoulders, and in our belly, and in our feet, and in our hair, and on our lips, and in the flashing of our eyes, the flare of our nostrils, the timbre of our voices, the candor of our being, the defiance of our intellect, the authenticity of our sorrow and purity of our ecstasy -

and so when we go to church, you can hear the praise down the street. and when we praise, though nice to have, we don't need an organ, or drums, or a tambourine - because the percussion lay in the hands and feet. when we dare to lift ev'ry voice and sing, no microphone is needed, because the force of conviction amplifies itself. when we dance, no structure is necessary because true testimony can't be bridled -

and when we plucked the final letters of the alphabet, we adorned ourselves with it, and became a testimony to the basic yearning for humanity to write its own name. when we got up north and took the clay of expression and built jazz, gospel and blues people didn't know what to do with it; we had people in the old world wishing for louis' lips and billie's tenacious tone.

you can't tell me we weren't ready, that we didn't orchestrate our own prosperity.

so, i suggest you purge yourself of any associations you have of blackness with docility and ineptitude. i encourage you to actually uncover the telling of history from their mouths. i dare you to elevate the status of 'those poor, unfortunate dark people' to something resembling human -

because up until now, we've gotten it wrong.

d. omavi harshaw.

2011-01-26T09:41:00.005-05:00

'i would like to encourage african americans to redefine our vision of success. access is not success. it is not enough to gain access to these institutions. we should never forget that we were sent here by teachers, community leaders, and families to transform these entities, not to conform to the bigotry and callousness that are their hallmarks'

2011.

2011-01-01T13:29:00.002-05:00

because nothing says 'happy new year!' like a 105-year-old cartoon.

i am a 'race woman' because.

2010-12-30T11:21:00.029-05:00

sometimes i look up to see where all my allies [on the race front] have gone. i wonder where my beautiful brown comrades have gone. i wonder why so many deem it unimportant [or, on a scarier note, completely taken care of].

so i read my history, talk to the people around who lived it and i wonder when we decided it was time to go inside for that long, cool, drink of water - when did we decide all the work had been done? i'm sad to say that we're losing most of the progress we've made.

this frightens and infuriates me.

so, here they are: my reasons for still being a 'race woman'.

1. of people who blur the lines, thereby disrespecting the origins and manifestation of oppressions: i'm always suspicious of people who fling the names of isms about, sloppily placing them where they oughtn't, drawing conclusions after little to no analysis [or even talking to the people whose knees are buckling under those systems]. i believe that there are common tenets to these issues, that they aim to fragment human beings that were once whole and authentic. and i'm sure there are people who have a foot in both the black and gay camps [which i'm sure pisses them off a bit more] - but it's arrogant and irresponsible to claim that one entire group of people has made it and that moving on to the next 'issue of the day' is in order. it is also stupid, as a few decades of progress will never do away with a few centuries of oppression.

2. of the knapsack of victimhood: you've got to hand it to the implementation of white supremacy - it's pervasive, loaded, powerful; it's shifted the course of entire histories, stolen people, languages and ways of understanding - and it dares you to rail against it. that said, notions of supremacy don't always hover atop cultures, pulling the strings that eventually bring about their demise. they use that vitriol to spur themselves forward, finding a home in the psyches of the people who both benefit and suffer because of it. people always reference the 'knapsack of privilege' one carries - the ability to move about without fear of being profiled, the ability to speak and be taken seriously, to be an individual and not simply a caricature of an entire demographic.

i'm more concerned with the 'knapsack of victimhood', that deplorable condition when you think you're unheard because your voice is deemed unfit and worthless within the cultural narrative, that life chockfull of the expectation of harassment or typecasting. i'm more concerned with the shame [and quite literally, famine] that's become synonymous with dark skin [and with the paternalism that goes unchecked because of it], and the disdain for anything that reminds one of that condition. i'm concerned with the self-imposed lack of freedom -

because those chains are the most difficult to break. anyone can get free when the enemy is outside - carving out the mess you've inherited and internalized is a completely different story.

3. it's a safeguard against a 'more pristine' past: have you read the preamble? you know, 'we, the people, in order to form a more perfect union...'? have you ever heard of the gradation of perfection? how can something be 'more perfect'? sweethearts, there are no heavenly histories, no platonic ideals of pastoral pasts.

i like to think that i embody deconstruction. i like the idea of being brown and being female as, pardon my french, but disrupting shit. i adore running in circles where i 'don't belong' - if i'm the lone black woman in a room, i'm in the right place. i am so in love with it, in fact, that i consider it a ministry. i am a gatekeeper of culture. i am a torchbearer of my history, since we can't seem to get it together in our history books.

this is different from being a token. this does not alleviate others' responsibility to treat me as a whole human being, nor does it mean that it's my responsibility to teach well-meaning white people how to treat me as such.

i collect stories, i sit at experienced feet, i steel myself to listen to accounts of unimaginable violence and despair. i look for tattooed numbers on forearms, i looks for calluses on hands and feet. it's a calling. it's necessary work. so when i come across black people [of my generation, especially] that claim there's nothing to press for, that our issues have been eradicated, i remind them of confederate re-enactors, i remind them of people that can quote the amendments that granted us rights verbatim, as we stare, dumfounded. i remind them that you can't check a tainted, fragmented history if you aren't a vessel for the accurate one.

4. 'the dark continent': africa is a construction to me. not in the way that everything is comprised of ideas and subject to [and filtered by] human understanding - it is quite literally a place i've never been but am expected to have a connection to. dark people pass me on the street and ask me where i'm from. i respond 'chicago'. they ask again, this time, with 'the look', that knowing gaze that seems to say 'no, really - what are your origins? what story does your skin bear? what song do your full lips hold? what rhythm do your hands play?' -

i have no answer for them.

i am from chicago, as is my mother. my grandparents are from mississippi, the children of mississippians and folks from alabama for the two centuries prior. my story did not begin in the bottom of a slave ship [to be followed up by exploitation of labor and black female bodies], but it's all i have in the way of a point of origin.

so when i see images of africa as a dark, lacking monolith, when the very name of the continent summons visions of fly-covered faces and large, pleading eyes, i know that i have work to do. i have to dismantle those lies i got fed. i have to counter them with the images of the amazing friends whose roots didn't get severed, those friends that still have their stories, songs, and rhythms.

5. 'remember the titans syndrome': the vault of white womanhood is something else; it just isn't held accountable like white manhood is [a wink at the oft quoted 'evil white man' / 'privilege denying dude' meme]. when considering history, i feel that white womanhood has been treated with kid gloves - i suppose because their femininity was supposed to temper the racism. not so - not when that 'weak white femininity' could be used to cause just as much damage. they played a role in everything from messed up plantation power dynamics to the klan. it's safe to say that there are issues about race that women are going to have to work out for themselves.

we can't simply send the fellas to war [or bring racial issues to the forefront by integrating high school football teams] and expect to reap the benefits while twirling our thumbs in the background.

6. a damn good translator: i'm coming into the knowledge of my privileges for the the first time. after living solely with regards to my blackness and womanhood, i'm learning to consider the fact that i'm straight, american, christian, cis-gendered, able-bodied and not hurting for money.

all that considered, i never wanted to be like the spineless, naive privileged people i was usually surrounded by - the ones that peppered their opinions with 'oh, i don't know's and 'i'm sorry for what my people did to your people's - 'cause it's just like my fortune cookie told me last week: 'talk doesn't cook rice', or in layfolks' terms: 'that ain't worth a good half o'damn'.

it's my responsibility to speak truth to my experience, to encourage others in their walks, and question the systems at play that turned my chargeless attributes [being straight, able-bodied] into cultural spades in my back pocket. and even if i'm not hurting, it's my place to stand in the gap - the gap between assumption and understanding, between mere tolerance and pure, full inclusion in the larger society. and to check folks [be they hurting or reaping the benefits] by holding them accountable [just as i'd want them to do for me].

it's my job to be a damn good translator for the folks who aren't there yet. i'd like to be an ally that's set on fire to set things right.

so, mon amie, there are some of my reasons. what are some of yours?

'loose here!', or the top ten black church offenses.

2010-12-26T19:37:00.031-05:00

i grew up 'cogic'.

now, for those of you who have never experienced the pure excitement and lusciousness that is the black church, allow me to enlighten you.

cogic stands for 'church of god in christ' - and it is no joke, honey. when people ask me about my religious background, i can't help but respond by grinning from ear to ear, and adding in a smug, satisfied, self-assured tone that 'i am from that hand-clappin', foot stompin', revival every other week, bible study directly following choir rehearsal, five offerings per service, wear stockings every time you come in that door' tradition.

one could say it sparks a bit of cultural pride within me.

this wondrous institution is one of the jewels in the crown of black american experience/s. the history of the blessed black people in america has been punctuated with a number of social ills, but nothing [and i mean nothing] has been able to resurrect spirit and hope like the church.

be that as it may, every cultural institution has its moments - those 'interesting' times when one just has to let go and leave the particulars to whichever deity [or atheist entity] they hold supreme. and so, of all the beautiful, creative, lovely things this tradition has to offer, i will share the [in my humble opinion] best one:

the colorful and indomitable rebuke.

so here they are: my top ten favorite reasons to get rebuked in the black church.

1. coming into service being noisy: those of you who grew up in areas with a high concentration of black folks [especially southern black folks] will know that you just don't come inside any ol' kind of way. when you enter a room of people [especially older people], you greet them. you speak. there is no other option. oh, you're upset about something? oh, did little schnookums have a hard day? well, you better take it to the cross and deal with it later, because you're still compelled to speak. that said, when you enter god's house, you shut that mouth, follow your parents to whichever pew [or choir section] they deemed fit for the impending twelve-hour service and sat down ['sat', not 'sit' - the difference is not in tense. it is simply an emphatic command not to be disputed. the change in spelling signifies its grave nature].

2. chewing gum: this is an extension of #1. don't you dare come into the house of the lord popping gum and carryin' on like you were raised by a pack of wild hyenas [not that there are docile, mentally sound hyenas, older black folks just love to exaggerate]. if you misplaced your mind before you came to church, the ushers [often referred to as 'urshers - yes, with an additional 'r'] will gladly extend their palm and non-verbally 'request' whatever contents you are chewing. it doesn't matter if you're two or twenty-two, you will get embarrassed.

3. unladylike attire: women and girls do not wear pants in traditional churches. i know we've had many a feminist revolution, i know that black churches are mainly comprised of women, but it just isn't done. skirts please.

that said, jesus don't wanna see your ashy legs. that is why he invented stockings [and if it's cold, that's why he invented tights]. if you're mad because they itch, well, looks like you have another thing to take to the cross, because covering those legs is not optional. in addition to this, if you don't want to be referred to as that 'fast tail gal', your skirt should hit two inches below your knees [even lower depending on the denomination. if you're unsure about the length, bring a scarf to drape across your knees], and shouldn't not na'an cleavage be showin'. can't nobody serve gawd floppin' 'round all over the place, and we don't want nobody hindering the menfolk.

4. ungentlemanly attire: god wants your best. you are a young disciple for christ. how are you going to minister and speak about the wonders of the lord when your shoes looking ran over and busted? don't you walk in off the street with some shoes you play ball in. the devil is a liar! and for the record, lint balls [or half-cultivated waves] in one's hair and earrings will not be abided. leave that 'street stuff' in the street.

3 & 4 subsection: when i started running in 'multicultural circles' [read: 'hanging out with white people'], i noticed that very few [if any] people dressed to the nines for church. in the black tradition, sunday is a time to cut up sartorially. there is no excuse. you spend ages laboring over your shades of pink, mauve, cream and vermillion - and that's just the men. one does not, and i mean 'not ever' - walk into the house of the lord looking like 'who shot john and why didn't he finish the job?' [also known as a 'hot mess', for you 'black church 101' folk].

5. swaying to the wrong tune: god's people are on one accord. and you will be laughed out of the choir if you do not sway, sing, and clap in perfect union with the rest of the choir. back before instruments [many of them were once considered 'worldly', or secular and 'not of god'] were introduced, the congregation relied on hands and feet to do the work. this rule can only be circumvented by the following: adorable babies, old people, soloists doing ridiculous verbal 'runs', inventive clappers providing the alternative percussion for what will rock the church and the pastor [minister or guest speaker] yelling randomly throughout the praise.

6. sunday whites: if you want to take communion, you will wear white on the first sunday of the month. no white on first sunday, no bread and wine - or to be completely forthcoming, no cracker and grape juice. in addition, don't you dare take more than one cracker and one mini cup of juice. and if you're part of an old-school tradition that doesn't serve individually wrapped communion, don't touch fifty crackers then eat the fifty-first. jesus will kick you in the face and everyone in your pew will stare, give each other 'the look' and talk about you like a dog after service.

also, if you are part of the choir: you will wear 'that one white' the director agreed on. you will not wear cream, off-white, or mother-of-pearl. if you do, you will not sing.

7. 'stealing away' / pre-benediction munchin': if your church has a candy store / kitchen in the back, don't you dare sneak off before the service has ended to get a good spot in line. any sensible adult or church mother will notice and send you to the back of the line - if they let you buy anything at all. i know the flamin' hots with cheese and penny candy is good, but don't get a whuppin' messing around trying buy $4.37 worth o' candy. if [and this is a major 'if'] you must leave the service, pay attention now: put a finger up.

now, those of you who didn't grow up in the tradition probably don't follow me. back in slavery times, when a slave wanted to exit the room, one would signal to their master for permission. after the request was acknowledged, the raised index finger remained in plain view so that everyone knew that permission had been granted. many find this offensive and archaic, as it has its roots in the slave tradition, but it is still a prevalent gesture in many black christian communities.

8. altar call hot messes: i know we livin' in the end times [the period of chaos and tribulation just before the rapture and end of the world], but if you need to get re-saved every week, your flesh is extra weak. if you are on the pole saturday and back on all fours, falling out and carryin' on sunday afternoon, you should really just pick one. either pole it up all the time or get right and stay right. i know we're supposed to carry our cross daily, but you're holding up the service.

9. asking for change at the collection plate: you knew you had a $10 bill and $20 bill before you left the house. now you're just holding up the process by asking for change. that said, even though it holds up the passing of the plate, it's still much better than reaching in and making change yourself. it just looks triflin' and will a man rob god? i think not.

10. testifyin': i love testimony service. no, no - you don't understand - i loooooooove testimony service. there's nothing like seeing a church mother prop herself up on her cane and wave her hand [thereby signaling to the organist or other musician to stop playing] and start humming a spiritual. if you haven't witnessed this, you haven't lived. i don't care if you were on the pole saturday night, i don't care if you haven't been to church in fifteen years - the sight and sound of an eighty year old woman singing about how she 'got over' will put you right at the foot of the cross.

...but there is a way to do it.

many churches will tell you to sing a song [often pronounced 'sung'] or tell a story. the ignant folks will do both. if an old person does both, you'd better let them, 'cause gawd's probably gonna move soon. anywho, here's the protocol: one rises, waits to be called on [or given the green light by an older member of the congregation] and then proceeds to recite the grandest black church spiel of all: 'givin' honor to god, who is the head o' my life, to the pastor, assistant pastor, first lady, ministers, missionaries, deacons and friends...' -

because any other way is just wrong. you do not get up and sing something you wrote on the way in. you do not get up and proceed to tell your life story. if you are a visitor, you say what church you're part of and wait for the 'amen's and 'god bless you's.

once again, the proper way of greeting rears its head.

so, there you go, black church 101. even as i type, i find myself thinking of more landmines. have fun reminiscing about which rules you've broken!

søren aabye kierkegaard.

2010-12-20T23:06:00.003-05:00

'the most common form of despair is not being who you are'

i am a feminist because.

2010-11-24T09:22:00.009-05:00

if i've heard it once, i've heard it a thousand times.

'why are you a feminist? do you hate men? don't you know there are more important things going on? don't you know what you have? there are so many people being oppressed all over the world. do you know how ridiculous and ungrateful you look?'

in short, no -

no, i do not hate men - i expect them, like everyone else, to behave with decency. and if decency is too much to ask, then perhaps we need to start below the ground floor and build a stronger foundation.

yes, there are important things going on - and i realize both the need for action and my ability to contribute to those causes. i know what i have - and it's not a matter of being ungrateful. it's a matter of never being content with the status quo - because its opposite is not standing still; it's going backward. the safeguard against retreating into a darker past is not to bask in one's fortune. it's to constantly stand over the progress, monitoring it and checking all things and ideas that arise aiming to destroy it.

we've seen it before: a demographic gets the vote, then proceeds to celebrate and praise jesus -

then here come the poll taxes, the literacy tests, the grandfather clauses. we have to be just as mindful about the aftermath as we are about dismantling institutions.

so here they are - a couple of my reasons for being a feminist:

1. i am a human being: as every injustice i witness or hear about is an affront to my humanity and the humanity of others, i accept the charge by speaking up about my experience [if it is a system of oppression under which i am the intended 'victim'] and listening intensely and asking the necessary questions and doing all i can to provide space for others [if i am outside the demographic being restricted]. this means that i am a feminist because [as every cause is my cause] every avenue of justice is one i must traverse.

2. the ridiculousness of it all: i was raised hearing about the plight of black americans - i saw this exploitation in the hands of my family members, i saw it all-black impoverished neighborhoods i visited, i witnessed and experienced it in the self-policing many black american communities engage in [determining which black people 'belong' and for what reasons]. feminism fills the gaps. it's assumed that racial oppression faced primarily by black americans bred a tightly collectivist culture - it went on to forge a specific series of identities in coordination with and in spite of negative experience and unjust laws. if we just take the prototype of bare-bones feminism as the work by [and on the part of] women to advance their own causes, we're still talking about just about half the world's population. it's absolutely ridiculous to pigeonhole the people in this movement.

3. oppression compounds itself: you'll hear the cute quips. 'womanism is to feminism as purple is to lavender'. let me give you another. if racism is blue and patriarchy is yellow, then the issues black women face are green. history has tried to convince us that oppression fits in little slots of the past. columbus to independence - the story of indentured servitude and the plight of white people. independence to postbellum america - the abolition story. we got a sweet little gap with more foreign wars, then around 1915, women get their chunk o' history, with a few pages on how they fought for the vote, then it's back to more war until the civil rights movement.

not so. these things overlap. and so experiences, like the culture that impresses them, are complex and often frustrating.

4. feminism empowers me: black nationalism, pride, and the church that rose from the ashes of the peculiar institution ask me to praise blackness, which has historically been limited to the experiences of black men and the [albeit limited] privileges that they wield. much of the history of black people in america has been dictated and set in terms of masculine experience, which doesn't amount to a hill of beans if my story isn't being told. womanhood [or whatever terms tickles your fancy] should not have to be sublimated in order for manhood to take precedence. preaching equality, voice, and the hard work required to bring about a just world - while requiring the hierarchy-induced silence and stillness of others - is never just. feminism fills in the gaps that the black community and church left me with: it encourages me to not police myself - i can take control of my looks and sexuality without being preached into hell. i can choose how i want to identify myself - i am not compelled to placate anyone with sweet words and deference at my own expense. i can be whole and feminist.

5. it reminds me to take the reins: it's safe to assume that i can walk down the street without fear of being lynched, but as the number of women being assaulted increases, i've come to realize that i'm not simply at risk for being followed in a store or arrested for no reason. i used to think of my skin as this static prison that compelled others to treat me poorly. after coming into the light about a number of things, i came to learn that shaming the body is a way of restricting people. based on my experience, i assumed that a silent dignity would put people in check. feminism taught me that i don't have to relish in being catcalled down the street. i learned that a female-identified person and her voice go hand in hand.

6. it takes a step back from myopic interpretations of history: people like to reference the history of white men raping and overseeing the sexual exploitation of black women, but in reality, almost 150 years later, i am more at risk by the fellas who share my hue. proximity breeds the greater potential for mistreatment. growing up on the south side of chicago, my concern was not with men who lived on the other side of the city - it was the male-identified folks in my own backyard. and with the 'hush hush' surrounding topics like molestation, incest, and sexual assault in the black community, i only realized the history behind perverse gender relations by way of feminism.

7: feminism is NOT a white woman's movement: all in all, it's been quite a road, stepping up and away from the rules that permeate blackness. i have been told that i'm not paying attention to the real issues - as if protecting my body [from people who aim to attack it] and my mind [from the unjust ideologies that aim to poison it] are ridiculous, unnecessary things to be concerned about. i've been told everything from 'feminism is dead' to 'feminism is a white woman's movement' -

to that i say: 'bullshit'.

black women were feminists back when 'real' ladies sat in parlors knitting and taking tea. black women were feminists in fields when they worked under sun and whip. they were feminists when they spoke up and gave speeches in front of mixed and white audiences - and bared their breasts when people challenged their womanhood. they were feminists when others got off boats fresh from eastern europe. they were feminists before abolitionist movements, before steps toward black male enfranchisement, and before seneca falls; they were feminists before it was popular, cute, or convenient to blog about -

and i owe it to myself, my children and them to carry the torch.

#11. a bit of bliss.

2010-11-15T18:26:00.000-05:00

best costume this year.

seen in somerville, ma

#10. antebellum delight.

2010-11-15T18:20:00.000-05:00

i don't know about you, but it's the little things that make me reeeeeeallly dig postbellum america -

you know, like emancipation and suffrage and all that.

i speak, therefore i am.

2010-11-15T18:10:00.000-05:00

'bold speech, frank speech, candid speech - got socrates in trouble. speak boldly, frankly, self-critically. democracies decay and decline when citizens no longer are willing to muster the courage to engage in self-critical reflection and bold speech, frank speech, speech unintimidated by power'.

a cage of obscene birds.

2010-11-11T22:04:00.005-05:00

when i was a child, my world was fairy dust and earth, heroes chained to rocks, and a man bearing the weight of the firmament on his shoulders. constellations pulled back the heavens, the stars like pins fastening a lover's hair so we could better see its face - and all the world was wonder.

then race crept in. and gender. and class and orientation, following like soldiers in lockstep.

like damned mindless soldiers.

and all of a sudden, the dust, earth and firmament were no longer mine, no longer space for dark feet like mine to tread. and with lips too thick to eat that fruit, with the names of gods and goddesses rattling around in my base mouth like broken teeth -

i 'settled' for reading the 'dark' ones, the 'disgraced'.

at any rate, scorn replaced wonder, hurt and degradation inched out open arms, and distance cleaved the canon from myself.

i am now myselves. yes, myselves. i suppose it's like whitman says: perhaps we contain multitudes.

unfortunately, some are more fragmented than others, and so existential questions become charged with self-loathing and the fascination with standards unlike oneself.

...and so it was with me.

and so i focused on works crafted by dark hands - they were the 'right' ones, after all. the ones that would make me authentic, make me real, make me a responsible dark person - a credit to the millions i'll never meet but represent.

i like that word, 'dark'.

'black' is fine in a pinch. 'colored' when sarcastic has the perfect pitch -

but darkness is a condition. it's damn near palpable.

you could pave the heavens with the fragmented consciousness of dark people. and so i did.

hurston. hughes. dubois.

carver. ellison. walker.

morrison. haley. wright.

and so the columns of my understanding matched my skin . a sable hue. 55% cacao, if you will.

and only at the expense of my humanity.

as a city girl from the southside of chicago, i knew i was dark. i knew the loveliness that could accompany it. after all, i was the recipient of a history rich with mournful experience and writhing with eloquence!

and as the granddaughter of cotton-pickers and comedians, and as the stuff of slave dreams, the traditions never escaped me.

i just allowed culture to dictate my humanity.

i cast down greco-roman myths so i could grasp works of the harlem renaissance more securely. western european philosophy became fodder for my black pride to devour. i sacrificed my 'i' for 'we' and got only fragmentation in return.

this was the desert.

and then, like sticks turned to snakes and rivers made red, it happened - i saw myself in those old stories again.

my grandparents' southern hands were once again transformed into promethean stealers of fire. blackness, like a certain savior, hung bloody and crucified at the hands of a world that didn't understand. freedom hung as tantalizing fruit on the ends of branches, overripe and unattainable in slave narratives.

and once again, i began to see the hand of creation in all things. i became myself once more, whole and in love with all the world - realizing that my being takes precedence; that an upturned face has more weight than shackled dark limbs, corseted torsos, and bound feet.

and so i use my experience to critique the canon. i do not beg entry into white, male, or affluent worlds - i 'discreetly' clear my throat and stick my dark, feminine, less-than-affluent fingers through the holes. and so i augment my virtue by becoming fully human -

deconstruction of oppression in its highest form.

i pluck plato like eve that fateful apple - i choose and observe, open-eyed, mouth agape during my descent. i wrap my mind 'round aristotle and hegel while pointing out privilege and prejudice.

because what is 'being' but will, a choice, an extension of one's own hand?

and whenever i doubt my intentions, whenever i become conflicted and wonder what nerve i have to dare approach the 'golden altar of understanding', i remind myself of dark people and women -

i remind myself that education, like voice and freedom, is the human birthright -

i remind myself that i am the stuff dreams were made of -

and i fill in the canon. wholly, fully human, and without compromise.

a canon of one's own.

2010-11-08T16:40:00.001-05:00

walter anderson.

2010-10-21T09:08:00.005-04:00

'believe in something big. your life is worth a noble motive'

on divine names and mystical gender-ology.

2010-10-14T10:31:00.008-04:00

greetings, folks -

some time ago, i wrote a post about a conversation i had about our perceptions of the divine. you can find it here.

a friend of mine posed the following question [you can check out his amazing blog here]:

In the class, we discussed ways in which power was performed and embodied in this conversation. I don't think any of us realized that this conversation actually took place on our campus and in our library!...but anyway, can you say a little bit about how power was present for you and the others in this conversation (from your perspective)?

here's my response:

i love how you phrased your question. privilege and power are given legitimacy and adorned - you wear it long enough, you'll swear it's second nature. when we admit this, we recognize that it is something we participate in. many a societal ill has been overlooked because people couldn't admit this. social issues somehow became things that Others dealt with - for example, racism not being a white issue, the myriad oppressions stemming from Queer / LGBT experiences being an issue for those perverse, ungodly people in big cities, and sexism being something for man-hating women with hairy legs to contend with.

many would say that I belong to a number of oppressed demographics. i am female-identified, Black, far from affluent - and yes, the weight of these labels do make life difficult sometimes - but I am also straight, able-bodied, Christian, American, and English is my first language.

we all have a few spades in our pockets.

i wasn't taught to mourn my identity, but just as the privileged are subject to the terms of their privilege [the assumed entitlement, the disillusionment that unawareness provides], the same can be said for the disadvantaged [sacrificing the 'I' for the sake of the 'We' - the debt of a collectivist culture at the expense of one's individuality, the existential dilemma double-consicousness provides, and most dangerous of all, the chip of martyrdom that many people reference as an excuse for bad behavior].

let me explain:

i am hardest on the groups of which i am a part. i believe we're compelled to speak the truth about all things and be bold in the pursuit of justice in all its forms, but this keeps my own privilege in check. raising the bar for my demographic is what separates me from Christians that spew the Gospel with hateful vitriol; it separates me from the xenophobes who protest the erecting of mosques or someone's freedom of choice.

it keeps me human. every movement is my movement, every cause is my cause. i stand in solidarity because we're all so good at fragmenting one another.

now, I observed many things in this conversation. i drew a great deal from all their answers, but I'd like to focus on the two Black students. you might wonder why i'm choosing to focus on the two 'disadvantaged' people in a discussion on power.

just trust me on this one.

perhaps because of his background, Freshman White Guy didn't feel compelled to 'mark his territory'. perhaps for him, legitimacy of identity isn't wrapped up in Divine-sanctioned oppression - it's simply assumed. whether he wants it or not, his experience goes unchecked because he has the entire weight of our cultural narrative telling him that his experience is not only valid, but at the forefront, which is to say that privilege doesn't need to sell itself - it is present and pervasive.

you gotta give to privilege: it has superb PR.

the two other students didn't have that. the cultural narrative has always painted Black Americans in a pitiful light. Blackness was something to gaze upon with contempt or pity. it was something akin to misfortune, which is why when people outside of it approach it, the dynamic will usually be unbalanced. remember that image of Eros i referenced from Plato's Symposium in the post? Well, Love is indeed the great equalizer, but without empathy, it can quickly decay and become uneven, soon spiraling into Paternalism.

and the people in this community have internalized these notions. Black culture is inundated with the idea of powerlessness, and as i'm sure you know, you're on dangerous ground when you begin to think of yourself as Wretched. Because we often equate masculinity with what it means to be wholly human, a great deal of racial progress has happened at the hands of men - Patriarchy has played a major hand in the cultural narrative that rivals White Supremacy, in that our culture takes it as God's Own Truth. buying into the idea of male headship and dominance has been so successful because it provided a way out of that low, pitiful narrative of Blackness.

any port in a storm, I suppose.

from here, we can go two ways:

we can take the Black female student's route and accept the male divine, upholding the oppressive idea while tweaking it to cultivate a sense of self -

or we can do what many do: latch onto a sliver of privilege by mimicking the oppression we experience and reaffirming the broken system.

this is why it is so important to look back. how can we recognize the scope of oppression if we don't identify with the origins of our culture? everything that we have we've inherited - we've taken from previous generations the desire for justice, the hunger for a greater society, but we've also inherited their broken approaches and maladapted senses of self.

and just like Confederate money, it's worthless.

so we use the gendered nouns and plant our flags. we erect statues and carve borders - we build churches and cultural identities on the quicksand of broken consciousness and marvel at our less-than-holy results. some grab for the privileges they think they deserve. they aim to shake of the fetters of one variation of oppression, reinforcing the other. and whether it's the divine we're discussing or civil liberties -

disadvantage can breed a sense of expectation just like privilege can.

this is why intersectionality [or focusing on multiple systems of oppression] is so important. many would consider what the Black male student said and disregard his sexist ideas - chalking it up to the hardship of being Black - but we must remember that the desire to lord over someone has to be struck down in every form.

many people are buckling under the weight of oppression; it's never a good enough excuse.

let me repeat: we are all Atlas at one point or another - it is never a good excuse.

we may have good intentions, we may call each other family, but the proof is in the deconstruction and laying down of privilege.

so, mas, here's my final reflection:

power - some people got it, some people want it; some people will use any excuse in the good book to get it.

#9: was this the face that launched a thousand ships?

2010-10-14T09:59:00.000-04:00

gotta stay young, chicas! god forbid you do something blasphemous -

like age.

#8: stupid is fearless.

2010-10-14T09:55:00.000-04:00

once again, a treat from the fabulous folks at diesel. their message?

be stupid. be fearless.

...be vulnerable.

#7: putting the 'whore' in virgin/whore.

2010-10-14T09:43:00.000-04:00

i swear - one apple and it's all people remember you for.

#6: a democracy of asses.

2010-10-14T09:28:00.000-04:00

you hear that, ladies? let's leave the the real politics to the boys.

you just exercise your fundamental right...to be curvaceous.

bitch if you do, broke if you don't.

2010-10-12T16:35:00.000-04:00

#5: girls just want to have...pink.

2010-10-12T15:56:00.000-04:00

"no, your honor -

i don't know why more girls aren't interested in math and science."

#4: freedom of speech ≠ freedom from consequences.

2010-10-12T10:58:00.000-04:00

fighting for the 'right' to use a racial slur is indicative of a major character flaw -

...especially when you use language that alludes to our slaveholding history.

#3: a mag of one's own.

2010-10-12T10:31:00.000-04:00

this is reposted from the amazing, illustrious postsecret blog.

'nuff said.

#2: substance is too much to ask for.

2010-10-12T10:07:00.000-04:00

why be a career woman...when you can be a sexy career woman?

#1: women exist solely to be consumed.

2010-10-12T09:56:00.000-04:00

apparently, if you shop at diesel on newbury street in boston, you'll get more high-quality ass than you can put your mouth on.

a hearty welcome.

2010-10-12T09:48:00.000-04:00

we've all seen them: the advertisements that reinforce gender roles, size requirements, and breathe new life into centuries-old racial stereotypes.

they're out there, telling us that we have to be thin and light and pliable, or gruff and manly and callous.

we're confronted with the rules of our society all day, every day - and i, for one, am sick of it.

we're more than melanin, hips or mouths, legs crossed at the ankle or thigh -

that said, let's begin. welcome to 'bullshit i've seen'.

jessica mitford.

2010-08-30T15:57:00.001-04:00

'you may not be able to change the world, but at least you can embarrass the guilty'
x

anne vallayer-coster.

2010-08-29T06:56:00.006-04:00

the attributes of the arts, 1769

tom peters.

2010-08-25T23:37:00.002-04:00

'unless you walk out into the unknown, the odds of making a profound difference in your life are pretty low'

[de]construction workers.

2010-08-23T23:55:00.007-04:00

'most whites, some despite involvements in protests, do believe in 'freedom of democracy,' and they fight to make the ideals of the constitution an empirical reality for all. it seems they believe that, if we just work hard enough at it, this country can be what it ought to be. but it never dawns on these do-gooders that what is wrong with america is not its failure to make the constitution a reality for all, but rather its belief that persons can affirm whiteness and humanity at the same time. this country was founded for whites and everything that has happened in it has emerged from the white perspective...what we need is the destruction of whiteness, which is the source of human misery in the world'.

- james cone, black theologian

it is a truth universally acknowledged that a myopic society in possession of a tainted understanding of itself is in want of a good exorcism.

after years in the field of race work, i've come to know the familiar sign posts along the way of 'reconciliation'. there's the 'you are now leaving pleasantville' sign at the city limits. around the ten-mile mark you notice the lawns aren't as well-maintained. miles later, the annoying questions start in, usually beginning with tentative 'is it true that...'s and 'is it racist to say/think that...'s -

all of which lead you to wonder why the hell you're doing it in the first place. blackness has already been explored to the fullest, hasn't it? haven't we established that white is the equivalent of concentrated evil, thus leaving blackness to be all humble, subjugated virtue and prayerful nobility? aren't we done yet? doesn't polarization lend itself to a better understanding of the world? won't we solve all our racial problems by simply inverting the social order? a few centuries of white servitude should balance the books, right?

in short: um, no.

aside from this point of view being immoral, it's downright lazy. it's said that you'll know a tree by its fruit; it follows that you'll come to understand a movement [and your place in relation to it] by its intentions, course of action, and way of interpreting the results on society.

whether your answer to racial bias is signing up for the new black panther party or passing out flowers in front of the grocery store, you need a clear and just set of intentions. you can't simply say 'i'm gonna set out to destroy whiteness and white people'. you need to understand that when you engage in this cause, you're aiming to dismantle an institution and its multitudinous effects on our culture.

and that, yes, we all perpetuate it.

you'll need to understand that people inherit broken ideas just as they do decent ones -

and that it's a labor of love to undo the effects of that cultural and ideological poison.

the longer you travel on this road of race work, the more you'll face the prospect of weariness. you'll seek the comfort of people that 'get you', people that 'embrace you', and let's be honest here - people that 'look like you'. and this works both ways. the weight of 'white guilt' will do more harm than good; its black equivalents, 'racial discouragement and pessimism' will fare no better -

but guilt, discouragement, and pessimism are all the fluff of the process. they are just as likely to be vapor as they are fuel, either roadblocks or stepping stones along the way to progress.

'to value ourselves rightly, infinitely, released from shame and self-rejection, implies that we are claimed by the totality of life. to share in a loving community and vision that magnifies our strength and banishes fear and despair, here, we find the solid ground from which justice can flow like a mighty stream. here, we find the fire that burns away the confusion that oppression heaped upon us during our childhood weakness. here, we can see what needs to be done and find the strength to do it. to value ourselves rightly. to love one another. this is to heal the heart of justice.

- victor lewis, essayist

the way i see it, if racial oppression lent itself to fragmented identity, [or, on the positive end of the spectrum, double consciousness, that multifaceted interpretation of culture and one's place in/outside of it], if it required the breaking down of blackness, making it a crude fuel upon which it fed and maintained itself -

then surely justice will require a stripping down of whiteness to its hidden frame; it will depend upon a level of inspection and interrogation it's never been subject to. not that we should continue to augment the heft of whiteness or even affirm its place at the center, but muting privilege by looking it in its face, tracing its roots to better understand the laws and cultural subtleties that went into its construction, those are the necessary steps to chipping away at its reach.

then, and only then, will we know the stuff it's made of; only then will we see how it grew strong on consuming the so-called 'other', how it grew large and marginalized everything that wasn't like it -

only then can there be the hope of becoming reconciled.

oh, the desuetude!

2010-08-22T11:35:00.004-04:00

callithumpian:

designating a band of discordant instruments; of or pertaining to such a band.

- william cragie's dictionary of american english, 1940

gardyloo:

a common cry in former days of the dwellers in the high flats of edinburgh, who were in the habit of throwing urine, slops, [and other waste] out of the window, from french 'gare l'eau', 'beware of the water'.

- t. ellwood zell's popular encyclopedia, 1871

litherman's-load:

a greater load than can well be carried at one time, but is nevertheless undertaken to save the trouble of another journey - a lazy man's load. old english 'lither', bad, wicked, has a secondary meaning of 'lazy' in some of our early writers.

- georgina jackson's shhropshire word-book, 1879

christopher morley.

2010-07-21T17:13:00.002-04:00

'there is only one success - to be able to spend your life in your own way'

451 redux.

2010-07-21T16:19:00.002-04:00

"Montag, you listening?"

A few moments the length of ages passed. Montag could feel the weight of years thickening the blood in his veins. A few moments of discouragement, the lead-heavy heft of uncertainty and fear began to dismantle his plans brick by brick.

"Montag, son, can you hear - "

"I'm not so sure I can do this, Faber. This had to have happened for a reason. Obviously we didn't see any value in the books. Maybe they're just - "

"Just what? Fodder for stuffing? A few glorified strips of empty rhetoric? Vowels and consonants strung up for the burning?"

Montag lifted his hand gingerly toward his ear, as if to prevent the words from breaking against the afternoon air.

"What do you think Shakespeare intended, Montag, scrawling those pages late at night, crafting Desdemona's pallid face, engineering the open-eared crowd as they listened in awe of Mark Antony? What of Sophocles 'Antigone - is her death march to be disregarded as the last futile barks of a madwoman? Do we not strive to bury Polyneices for fear of the birds of prey? Do we dare leave his corpse smelling above the earth?"

"Old man, I do not know what you mean."

"Of course. Of course you don't. But that is why we do this; why we go to literature. This is how we sit at the feet of the ages.

Montag felt his right foot, then his left foot, move.

"Old man," he said, "stay with me."

note: Ray Bradbury's lines are in bold.

roald dahl.

2010-07-08T17:11:00.004-04:00

above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you, because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places. those who don't believe in magic will never find it'

tales from dorkville: bibliophile edition.

2010-06-11T16:24:00.005-04:00

i have imagined round tables with literary greats, quoted old roman poetry in heated arguments, and baffled [and annoyed, i'm sure] many a friend with obscure shakespearean references.

i am a dork. i rather enjoy it.

so here's a list of examples - little tidbits that really drive the point home.

you might be a bibliophile if...

1. your idea of a suitable coffee table book is a norton anthology of english or american literature.

2. you've ever sighed and muttered 'frailty, thy name is woman' after watching some vapid heifer on tv.

3. you watch literary lectures on your blackberry.

4. you own hardcover and paperback versions of the same book; one for loving, one for indecipherable notes in the margins. and between the lines. and asterisks with notes about word origins on the blank pages.

5. you talk back to the book as if you're at the movie theatre.

6. you read a play while watching the film version to compare and contrast plot representation, character and line delivery and omission.

7. you can name five literary works that mention oranges as central themes.

8. you think j. alfred prufrock and jeal-paul sartre could have amazing conversations.

9. you think zora neale hurston and ovid could have amazing conversations.

10. you've scripted said conversations.

11. you listened to what people said about president obama and wished othello was around to give advice. well, because sometimes you just have to choke a few people.

12. you've imagined an episode of jerry springer with shakespearean lines: 'we made the beast with two backs last night!' and 'tyrone, dwell i but in the suburbs of your good pleasure?' are my reigning favorites.

13. you've described an untrustworthy person as having a 'lean and hungry look'.

14. you could see hamlet screaming 'you are NOT the father!' on the maury show.

15. you own an etymology dictionary - and you don't hide it when company comes.

16. you've called someone a 'block, stone or worse than senseless thing'.

17. your feminist role models are antigone and dagny taggart.

18. you'd like to take john galt out for a drink. and give ragnar danneskjold the red light special.

19. you've considered a career in whaling because you 'felt like knocking people's hats off'.

20. you've imagined orpheus and lot's wife swapping sob stories at the local pub.

21. you smirk when you read alliteration.

22. you've exclaimed 'o gods, you yourselves have wrought the changes' in frustration.

23. you think the best words are latin or greek. and you tell everyone just that.

24. your idea of a roaring good time is a 'quote off'.

25. you've ever stubbed your toe on a stack of books, cursed them, and subsequently cooed about how you 'just couldn't stay mad at them'.

26. you've had a crush on holden caulfield [and swore up and down that you could change him].

27. the nickname 'blue roses' is the sweetest thing you've ever heard.

28. you've dreamed of bellowing 'i sing of arms and the man...' on stage in front of a large crowd.

29. you lovingly refer to racist requests as 'bustin' up chiffarobes'.

30. green lights remind you of the great gatsby.

31. you imagined dante squealing like a little girl when meeting virgil in the first canto of the inferno - and loved him all the more for it.

32. you've considered naming your daughter elizabeth bennet.

33. you've considered naming your son elizabeth bennet.

34. you think blanche dubois, willy loman and celie from the color purple need counseling.

35. you think there should be altars built in honor of johannes gutenberg.

note: bibliophilia comes in many forms, none of which are to be mocked. this is a very serious condition that has been known to lead to excessive use of lofty verbiage, daytime delusions, and fully-stacked bookcases.

i implore you - proceed with caution.

r. buckminster fuller.

2010-06-08T16:25:00.001-04:00

'the minute you begin to do what you really want to do, it's really a different kind of life'

safeguards against an oh-so-decadent present.

2010-05-22T23:08:00.010-04:00

'the world is full of people whose notion of a satisfactory future is, in fact, a return to an idealized past' - william robertson davies

america was a vast, empty expanse before christopher columbus approached its shores, marble heavy, a bag full of god [couldn't resist a little plath there], his gallant face breaking against the unruly wind. the founding fathers were great men of virtuous mettle who pulled democracy down from the heavens and disseminated it to the masses [women, natives, and darkies notwithstanding]. 'slaves' were actually jolly servants who beseeched the europeans for a ride to the new world, where they subsequently rent their loincloths from their base bodies and never spoke another word of their rudimentary languages again. all this freedom led to universal happiness, the nation was justified in every war it ever fought, the media never lied to anyone and cotton candy was shipped en masse to every citizen in the land on the fourth of july.

i'll be brief: you can take the stuff of prejudice and call it personal liberty, you can make blanket statements about good intentions and strong moral fiber, but you cannot bleach the annals of history. what has happened has happened; and it will continue to happen until people decide to accept the charge that rests at our feet.

telling the truth about its history is the only hope a nation has.

when you disregard personhood, your concept of humanity is limited; when you whitewash the history of a country, all your laws seem fragile and your moral edicts hollow. how did your country come into being? how do you ensure that it won't slip back into the clay from which it came if you are content to dot the i's and cross your t's with a glittery flourish?

no 'ethnic studies'? are we seriously willing to accept a history littered with 1215, 1492 and 1776 without any consideration for the other times when justice's scales balanced out? are the realities of so many so unimportant that you'd sacrifice authenticity for the sake of a rosy history?

there were people here - people with cultures and languages that could rival any of western europe. there were people brought here against their will, people who were told they had neither will nor personhood. then others who came with expectant hearts, hopeful and fully human who contributed to this country, who fought in its wars and laid down their lives and limbs.

this american story is not all peaceful thanksgiving dinners and chocolate malts and poodle skirts; real bravery requires that we admit the smallpox and segregation that accompany them.

and i expect it from some. i know that some ache for the 'good ol' days', when blacks were compliant [or coaxed into compliance by violence], women were docile [as opposed to today's flavor, stupid], and the poor were just taking up a little room on the sidewalk and nothing else -

...but those days are done. and it's our job to ensure they stay that way.

i will sit and listen to stories until my ears run over. i will close my history book and sit at the feet of people who have lived these things - people with tattooed numbers on their arms and callouses on their hands, because three printed pages in a fragmented history book isn't good enough. i will ask questions and wonder and unwrap history until i see it for what it is. i will knock on doors and have those conversations peppered with uncomfortable silences until i am satisfied with the length and breadth of understanding i've acquired.

i won't settle for a blancmange, milky view of history. i won't buy into a story written by the victor's hand.

i prefer the truth.

j.j. grandville

2010-05-20T03:19:00.007-04:00

une promenade dans le ciel, 1847

un autre monde, 1844

ralph waldo emerson.

2010-05-17T05:11:00.003-04:00

x
x
'language is a city, to the building of which every human being brought a stone'
x
x

eyjafjallajökull.

2010-05-13T23:42:00.000-04:00

Iceland, Eyjafjallajökull - May 1st and 2nd, 2010 from Sean Stiegemeier on Vimeo.

w.e.b. dubois.

2010-04-22T00:19:00.003-04:00

x
x
'i sit with Shakespeare, and he winces not. across the color line i move arm and arm with Balzac and Dumas, where smiling men and welcoming women glide in gilded halls. from out of the caves of evening that swing between the strong-limbed earth and the tracery of stars, i summon Aristotle and Aurelius and what soul i will, and they come all graciously with no scorn nor condescension. so, wed with Truth, i dwell above the veil'
x
x

tu sol comandi, amor.

2010-04-16T13:12:00.000-04:00

'our women are respected here, said the father. we would never let them tramp the world as american women do. there is always someone to look after the olinka woman. a father. an uncle. a brother or nephew. do not be offended, sister nettie, but our people pity women such as you who are cast out, we know not from where, into a world unknown to you, where you must struggle all alone, for yourself'.

so i am an object of pity and contempt, i thought, to men and women alike.
- an excerpt from alice walker's the color purple

contrary to popular belief, my name is not 'miserable' - it is neither 'downcast' nor 'dejected'. and though it is convenient for some to place paternalism where common decency should be, i don't exist for the sole purpose of augmenting someone else's self-esteem.

funny things, history and its interpretation.

funny things, people and their ideas about beauty, about richness of culture, about financial stability.

some would have you believe that the entirety of my experience is miserable; that it's a series of lamentations about an unreachable standard of beauty, that i sit at home and weep from my terrible, dark lot. that i'm dangerously overweight and can't control what i scarf down. that i'm a bumbling, illiterate mess, that i've never had anything or gone anywhere. that black culture is 'matriarchal' because black men are allergic to being good fathers.

and it's trash, all trash.

i'm sick of my likeness being equated with poverty, with violence and ignorance. i'm tired of the cultural dialectic equating me with mules and other barnyard animals.

dignity is supposed to go hand in hand with forward motion. we've settled for seeing dark figures in the media and have forgotten to see about the quality of their depiction. yes, obesity and economic hardship are often faced by people in the culture, but we cross a dangerous line when we equate blackness with the two.

i grew up in the church, and when people would get up and testify they would tell the story of how they got over, about how they're making it through. not once, not once in all the years i attended services regularly did i hear someone say 'i am my misfortune. this is my identity. i claim it in the name of jesus'.

because we have an understanding that circumstance and identity, though often juxtaposed [and usually linked by causality], are not interchangeable.

so for blanket assumptions about 'precious' and 'the blind side', for the maladapted constructions that are 'mammy, sapphire and jezebel', for every television show and movie and youtube channel that aims to rob me of my individuality and call me something that i am not -

i offer a hearty 'screw you'. my sense of self is louder than any lies you can muster.

until.

2010-04-12T16:24:00.000-04:00

irish potato famine memorial, boston.

2010-04-06T16:28:00.000-04:00

john fugelsang.

2010-03-31T08:14:00.004-04:00

x
x

'obama is not a brown-skinned anti-war socialist who gives away free healthcare. you're thinking of Jesus'

x
x

journey to the center: the house that ____ built.

2010-03-22T16:42:00.009-04:00

in an event to restore the cultural dignity of people of color, to gain ground for movements that deal with love and sexuality in all their forms, and snatch identity back from the hands of male dominance -

we often forget to fully examine the houses that patriarchy, white supremacy and heterosexuality built.

the same institution that relied heavily on the whip and brand went on to build many a plantation house. the shaving down of womynhood augmented the heft of masculinity and heterosexuality tends to garner fervor from the sufferings of people on the sexual outskirts.

what is stolen from one group is always assumed by someone else. social standing does not disappear; it does not simply evaporate.

we're fragmented in understanding because though focusing on the results of oppression is important work, shedding light on the benefits that are afforded 'those on top' is just as critical.

i'm learning that constructing blackness was birthed of need, a fiery, persistent need to raise a banner, to shout a message, to claim something for a people that had been dismantled and dismembered in unspeakable ways -

i'm also learning that there were laws that went into building whiteness; that a sobering kind of bleach went into its construction, that it required not stolen, but relinquished tongues. i'm learning that this place in society was acquired over a number of generations, that those laws and walls were intentionally placed and strengthened over time to perpetuate the status quo.

so many in the cultural periphery think that progress requires silence of the people who've benefited from oppression. and while it's necessary for the marginalized to speak their stories and express their experiences, in order to build sufficient safeguards against the repetition of oppression, i believe we're bound to speak all sides, to point out all flaws, and chisel all mortar and overturn every stick and stone that went into our infirm institutions.

so studying socioeconomic factors that contribute to poor neighborhoods and gentrification requires thinking about the racially-based housing laws of yesteryear. coming to terms with exploitation in the media goes hand in hand with studying the idea of being afforded individuality, rather than being the archetype for an entire demographic.

and yes, that means that building stronger movements requires checking for the holes we might have inherited from the past.

not only will you be challenging the center, but you'll learn how it became that way; you'll learn about the xenophobic beginnings of america's love-hate dance with immigration [whether 18th and 19th century or today], you'll discover the country's love affair with guns and control, and after all this, you'll do something infinitely more dangerous -

you'll discover that people at the center have their own histories. you'll hear about systems of oppression from points of view that, yes, might shock and offend, but they might also soften your heart.

when interviewing people around cambridge, i was intentional about interviewing white people, hetero folk and men. i wanted to know about their view of the world. i was curious about how history reads to them, how they interpret this growing tea party movement -

and i learned about the emptiness that comes with the center.

without stepping outside oneself, there is no self-reflection. so i decided to be the mirror -

and i listened to sighing white male youth, wishing that they'd inherited stories and cultural food outside of white sheets, casseroles and crocs. for the first time in my life, the people 'born on third base' were my focus, and they weren't the power-hungry, twisted fiends i'd been taught to believe they were.

perceived invisibility is one hell of an idea. let's do away with it.

this is not to say that superiority isn't internalized, that haughty whites, arrogant men, and blind heteros don't exist and use their privilege -

it's just that there's more to the story than we'd like to admit.

the once well-defined lines of culture are blurry, and though it will require more work and patience, the excavation of history and communication will be well worth it.

unbroken circles.

2010-03-01T12:16:00.002-05:00

søren kierkegaard.

2010-02-26T00:06:00.003-05:00

x
x
'face the facts of being what you are, for that is what changes what you are'
x
x

on pear trees: crawling out from hiding places.

2010-02-25T06:00:00.001-05:00

when considering myth and folklore, thinking about zora neale hurston, the literary patron saint of black girls the world over, is nothing short of necessary.

this woman spun cultural notions into something to curl about one's fingers. she wrote of human souls split in two, of the encroaching edges of the world, of rabid dogs and ships at sea.

she wrote about floods and torrential rain, about men and their constructions, of earth and spades.

she wrote about pear trees.

and after years of dreaming up conversations over brandy with kurt vonnegut, ray bradbury and george orwell, i started to imagine sit-downs in the kitchen over greens and black eyed peas with alice walker, harriet jacobs and zora.

for the first time in my life, it occurred to me that black female literary history is as great as any other [and so central to my understanding] - that zora could hold her own in a showdown with mark twain, that black girls had a handle on their own consciousness in a realm of invisible men and black boys.

but here's the trouble.

in addition to personal issues, black americans have faced very institutional ones - they've fought servitude, segregation, financial exploitation - and though we still have a ways to go, those battles have formed how we see ourselves and the ways we understand the world around us.

zora wasn't beloved [she died with no books in print and was buried in an unmarked grave] - she was ridiculed by her black literary counterparts for not being 'political enough' and was often scorned for what was interpreted as her depicting black folks as backward and lazy, triflin' and quick to rely on old, savage ways.

this didn't go over well with the idea of the refined, well-do-do black person that had no desire to be associated with face paint, barren african landscapes or bones through the nose. to them, these dark myths and ways of life zora was setting down on paper smacked of black folks cowering in corners during thunderstorms, proclaiming that de lawd wuz jes' doin' his work and that they should let 'im.

but years later, after alice walker placed a marker on zora's grave, after her books began to come back into print one by one, after the many steps forward as a people [including chipping away at self-hatred, that major uphill battle against ourselves], we realized that we come from a tradition that must be recorded, that after feeling de lawd's presence in fields and backwoods, we have become something new.

we began to realize that though liberation comes to us by way of changes in legistation, it also comes to us by restoring humanity; and as people are measured by their customs and traditions, by their moral standards and ambition -

they're measured by their stories as well.

and between the literary giants you'll always find tension - disagreements on what constitutes culture, about who belongs and who doesn't, about art's true and noble aim. but just as political poetry and revolutionary novels are vital to bringing about change, works about people chanting down heaven and ruminating over life's wonders are the prerequisite to progress as well.

even if that includes playin' the dozens on front porches.

and as we continue to shift away from that boxed-in idea of black consciousness, as black being the equivalent of angry and aggressive grows small and inadequate in our rearview mirrors, we approach a vivid, well-rounded idea of just who we are. we grant ourselves the grace of being a whole, entire people -

and we lie under the pear trees of our own making.

edward weston.

2010-02-25T03:39:00.005-05:00

pepper, 1930

leaf, 1931

driftwood, 1937

we ain't what we was.

2010-02-01T11:51:00.005-05:00

x
x
'Lord, we ain’t what we want to be; we ain’t what we ought to be; we ain’t what we gonna be; but thank God we ain’t what we was'
x
x

ralph waldo emerson.

2010-01-17T05:32:00.002-05:00

x
x
'meek young men grow up in libraries, believing it their duty to accept the views which cicero, which locke, which bacon, have given, forgetful that cicero, locke, and bacon were only young men in libraries, when they wrote these books'
x
x

in hope of constructing the whole.

2010-01-14T02:45:00.001-05:00

'twas mercy brought me from my pagan land, taught my benighted soul to understand that there's a god, that there's a saviour too: once i redemption neither sought nor knew. some view our sable race with scornful eye, "their colour is a diabolic dye." remember, christians, Negroes, black as cain, may be refin'd, and join th' angelic train´

- an excerpt from phillis wheatley's 'on being brought from africa to america'

it's said that a people does not throw away its geniuses.

the lives of black intellectuals have always been precarious; they break ground and tread where only others have traversed and attempt to make a home in circles engineered to shut them out. it's a low, sordid history - one riddled with the illiterate who owe their eloquence to lettered spirits, documents with lofty ideals that were hindered by wings held together by wax, and the laws and customs that aimed to keep things that way.

so when i think of the beginnings of america's black literary tradition, phillis wheatley is the first person that comes to mind. not much is known about her life, but her transatlantic journey and subsequent works have become fundamental stitches in our cultural fabric.

and what bittersweet stitches they are.

phillis had the gift of words - a gift she shared with dante, with virgil, with ovid - but if this is the case, then why do i hear chains and the dragging of feet when i read her?

we often run to the old standby 'so-and-so was a product of their time' as if broken ideologies all occurred within fifty years of each other and human decency was only a mere byproduct of the times, never a safeguard against them.

but as ecclesiates says, there is nothing new under the sun, and that includes self-loathing.

you read the earlier works of black literature, like harriet jacobs' incidents in the life of a slave girl or you scan the pages of textbooks and prints of old newspapers and come across misshapen, incomplete black people and wonder were the other two-fifths went. you want to scream for the lack of dignity they exhibit, the way blackness seemed so apologetic, how it bowed its head and covered its hair and scraped. and then you remember -

they didn't have the benefit of proudly-stated blackness. certainly there were people who had an understanding of racial identity, but there hadn't been civil rights movements; this was pre-'i have a dream', pre-bus boycotts, pre-'just about everything you could think of'.

and when young, black intellectuals [*cough* like myself *cough*] get too wrapped up in our 'enlightenment' we have to remember that the columns of our understanding wouldn't have a foundation without this history of broken consciousness.

so we give phillis wheatley room and thank her for her contribution. we thank her for speaking to audiences that doubted her ability to write fire because her hands were dark. we thank her for paving the way.

perhaps each generation is to be entrusted with a section of progress. the earliest generations of black americans were to live to tell the story of the way over, to cup their hand around the flame so we'd have a re-starting point. perhaps the generation after took to shaking off fetters and writing their names in the dust, developing the story to perfect the canon and drafting the initial score of our collective voice.

and perhaps in the years that followed, when faced with reconstruction, jim crow laws, and integration the foundation for self-awareness was set. with every generation came a set of issues that needed to be dealt with and black intellectuals have been beset on all sides with whatever circumstances the day wrought. and whether they were part of the earliest arrivals, captured and chained, they were eventually corralled into consciousness -

so we're fortunate enough to have inherited alice walker's color purple and zora neale hurston's pear tree. we're even more fortunate to be charged to continue the progress, to find connections between harriet jacobs and anne frank - finding the humanity of us all in southern backwoods and dark attics.

because what is blackness if it isn't to tied to humanity?

mark twain.

2010-01-07T01:04:00.002-05:00

x
x
'twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. so throw off the bowlines. sail away from the safe harbor. catch the trade winds in your sails. explore. dream. discover.'
x
x

αρχαιότητα / of the ages.

2009-12-24T03:34:00.013-05:00

left: eirene [peace], greek - late 1st century bc to early 1st century ad
right: 19th century reproduction of giustiniani minerva, roman, around 2nd century ad
[after a greek work of the 5th century bc]

XX

left: augustus, roman, 1st or 2nd centuries ad
right: cuirassed torso, roman, around 90 - 96 ad

sarcophagus with triumph of dionysos, roman, around 215 - 225 ad

XX

psyche, auguste rodin, 1899

XX

eternal springtime, auguste rodin, modeled 1881 / cast 1916 -17

cupid [eros], roman - aroud ad 190

XX

fallen gladiator, william rimmer, modeled 1861 / cast 1907

jacques-louis david.

2009-12-12T03:09:00.003-05:00

the death of marat, 1793

the coronation of napoleon, 1806

patroclus, 1780

moral constipation / on despair.

2009-12-04T10:21:00.002-05:00

cornel west at the boston book festival

i've been making my way through cornel west's reader, a collection of essays on topics ranging from the burden of black intellectuals to race and architecture. i've come away with a better grasp of that faint line between multiple facets and fragmentation, of the benefits that life from the periphery can provide -

and i like his hair.

so when i heard that he'd be at the boston public library in copley square i charged the batteries on two cameras and hightailed it to his panel discussion on matters of faith. he doesn't disappoint.

'religious narratives are some of the most dangerous narratives in the world. 'cause they cut so deep. so when they're tied to patriarchy, when they're tied to white supremacy, when they're tied to imperial arrogance, they are lethal - but they also have prophetic potential'

yup, there's no better way to cement injustice than to use the divine as a reference. there are stories of such injustices throughout history -

the shift in the church's view on married priests [thus causing families to be broken up, children to be delegitimized, and property to be confiscated to fill its coffers], religion as a defense for slavery [the dehumanization of africans coupled with the industrial needs of a burgeoning 'new' world when native americans proved unenslavable], and the restraints on women [that range from the dichotomization of their sexuality ('virgin/whore'), demonization in the church (being blamed for the fall) and the inability to practice some of the most basic rights (like counting during certain religious services).

it's safe to say that dr. west has a point.

'everything is against you in the darkness, including your blessed mama. [you see, there's an understanding] that comes from a people, a blues people, who have dealt with this - african-americans. terrorism, slavery, jim crow, jane crow, lynching - [b.b.] king comes out of this tradition; so do a number of others - so does curtis mayfield, so does luther vandross, a whole host of folk - people say 'in the face of that kind of terrorism, you don't create a black al-qaida - you don't counter-terrorize'. no - you say 'in the face of slavery, we want freedom for everybody', 'in the face of jim crow, we want rights for everybody'.

in the face of that kind of catastrophe, you hold onto some sense of what appears to be impotence. why? because even when you're gangsterized, you don't want to get in the gutter with the gangster. even if you're defeated momentarily, you'd rather be defeated with integrity than win with the thugs. that's the lesson of the blessed black people in america. overwhelmed, weary, and yet still somehow persisting - that's all you can do - sing a song, a spiritual. no rights, no liberty, no land, no territory - couldn't work a job without white supervision in a land of 'religious liberty' -

what did they do? they stowed away deep in the night, held hands, and these non-literate folk sang spirituals. that's a profound human lesson.

people often ask me why i like mythology - they tell me that it's dull or strange or that it no longer has any revealing properties. then i come across folks like dr. west who get it; folks that hear a quote like this and see pandora's story in black american history - that recall the legend of every evil imaginable escaping, being let loose to latch onto whatever it pleased - only to be punctuated by a resilient hope. i wonder when people will grow to embrace the strength of notions like these.

this is how we'll get over.

philosophical preoccupation: ethics edition.

2009-12-01T00:17:00.006-05:00

panel: thomas scanlon, frances kamm, sean kelly, steve pyke, alex voorhoeve
harvard university's barker center

the good. the beautiful. the ordered.

whatever you call it, the web of morality is complicated and has given humanity grief from the very beginning. there's ethics as it pertains to self, to one's immediate sphere, to humanity as a whole; we have ethics of war, of care, of duty and responsibility -

and almost nothing to show for it, save some brittle laws and much heated debate.

so why do we torture ourselves?

i like to think that it's in our nature to exhume the corpse of non-thought, that perhaps we are born inclined to see ourselves fully, even at the expense of our comfort. so we rattle chains and catch glimpses of our shadows on cavern walls. we attend lectures.

professor kit fine once said:

'philosophy is the strangest of subjects: it aims at rigour and yet is unable to establish any results; it attempts to deal with the most profound questions and yet constantly finds itself preoccupied with the trivialities of language; and it claims to be of great relevance to rational enquiry and the conduct of our life and yet is almost completely ignored. but perhaps what is strangest of all is the passion and intensity with which it is pursued by those who have fallen in its grip'

well put, professor. well put.

can we really be trusted to be the gatekeepers of morality if we can't grasp the extent of its code? what good is morality if we can't decipher it or channel its potential into fruition?

the panelists mentioned the artist gaugin, who left his family to live the artistic life. some would argue that his primary responsibility was to his family, others would declare that his own happiness was supreme, and an even lesser minority would claim that his art was the highest good -

and that he owed it to humanity to offer us himself on a canvas. family be damned.

i think that morality is connected to a sense of expectation - ethics are our cliff's notes on a chaotic world. ethics is where we run when we realize we're naked just as the shame sets in, when we realize that we are able to wreak as much havoc as we'd like, so we don some fig leaves and draft legislation to prevent as much discomfort as possible.

like it or not, that impulse to see ourselves never dies. we'll claw at the cataracts and buck against fetters our whole lives in an event to know who we are -

and we'll find ways to rein that person in for just as long.

frances kamm, the second panelist, encouraged us to really look at ourselves - not to rely on the inherited notions of previous generations, not to accept the foam and vagueness of mush-mouthed philosophies. we won't know everything, but the virtue is in the honest pursuit - it's in the willingness to admit that you'd still love michelangelo even if he was a crackhead, that those with blood-drenched hands have been some of the most enrapturing people to ever walk the earth [they'd have to be to have been so influential], that utilitarianism plays a much larger role than we'd like in our society.

we can no more operate from a place of dishonesty than doctors or scientists can.

museum of fine arts - boston

2009-11-25T20:08:00.011-05:00

baron henri de triqueti, dante and virgil, 1861

thomas crawford, orpheus and cerberus, 1843

michael rysbrack, allegorical figure of historia, 1744

kara walker, the rich soil down there, 2002

post hoc ergo propter hoc.

2009-11-25T15:59:00.004-05:00

i'll admit it: i was that girl in the middle rows of philosophy classes wondering why we were reading nazis when there were so many decent, moral people with no voice.

so when i was reading the new york times and came across the infamous ethical debate of 'concept versus implementation' i almost spit up my food -

because i couldn't bring myself to discount the grand addition ol' martin here has made to philosophy. dasein is a hell of a drug.

perhaps marc briod from shepherdstown, west virginia put it best:

'martin heidegger's philosophy is simply too profound and important to be dismissed on the grounds of his dispicable ethical failings. heidegger the man includes astonishing philosophical language and ideas about our existential condition as well as deeply lamentable words and actions towards jews and other victims of the nazis.

by acknowledging this tension between his penetrating philosophy and his baseness as a leader of men, we may be in a better position to notice the ironic coexistence of insights about our own 'being in the world' with potentially venal public judgment and actions'

abraham lincoln was believed to have said that if he could ensure the unity of the states without freeing slaves, he would have. we herald him as a great emancipator. thomas jefferson was part of a group that wrote some of the most poignant prose ever penned in praise of freedom [check that alliteration, y'all] - in between trips to the auction block and the beds of slaves. some of the most influential philosophers and writers to ever live offered concept and word in praise of institutions that chipped away at human understanding, but we respect their pens.

it seems triflin' at best. and not in that 'fleeting fancy' kind of way. i'm talking 'hypocritical, unforgivable' triflin'. benedict arnold triflin'. 'unwashed greens' triflin'.

and that ad hominem attack always seemed rational - if you want a top-notch opinion on freedom, you don't ask someone who binds or is bound. if you'd like to know what approach is democratically sound, you should probably shy away from dictators.

but if you want a better understanding of what it means to be human, apparently flawed, broken ones are just the mirrors we need.

maybe lessons are best learned when we can see the space between the canon we're presented with and how it engenders or obstructs justice. maybe truth and authenticity come in the form of trash being hurled at women marching for suffrage. maybe existential crises extend to slaveowners with mixed children and democratic political leanings.

maybe that chasm rings true because it's ever-present in all of us. even a broken clock is right two times a day.

howard zinn @ boston university.

2009-11-06T16:24:00.004-05:00

staceyann chin, poet / spoken word artist

taking on atlas shrugged while reading howard zinn's a people's history of the united states was a good/bad idea. on one hand, i found ayn rand's praise of the individual refreshing. i've always been in love with the idea of stolen fire, flustered gods and heroes chained to rocks. i know you're thinking 'hey, that's prometheus!', but if atlas is the work horse, the subjugated elite, the cast aside able-bodied, then prometheus is his crafty counterpart.

after all, who doesn't want to rip elements from the ethereal vault and warm their hands?

this coupling was a bad idea because falling into despair became too easy. when you read a chapter on spanish 'discoveries', rape and smallpox blankets then follow it up with an 'in defense of the rich' chaser, you're bound to get heated.

the only thing worse than reading about encroaching colonists is reading a defense of manifest destiny, whether geographic or financial.

or you might betray your lofty, humanitarian ideals -

you become seduced by the elusive john galt, you start to feel the grainy residue of dollars in hand or the metallic tinge of coins on your tongue, you might even be inclined to cut new teeth on account of the human flesh you're starting to crave.

and all of a sudden, things like patriarchy are swiftly erased from the annals of history, things like slave trades and internment camps are done away with and the blame that rightly belongs on the shoulders of those institutions [and the people who've given them life] becomes the stuff of imagination.

but oh - not so, ayn. not so.

the panel: chris moore, david strathairn, howard zinn, dean virginia sapiro

so i went to the panel discussion of the people speak, the movie version of a people's history, and i'm reminded of the revolutionary actions of the ages. there was a reenactment of john brown's attack on the peculiar institution, susan b. anthony's refusal to pay a fine for voting before the ladies had the right, and john legend playing the hell out of 'strange fruit'...

and even though the rich, the male, the straight, the white, the christians have their story, so do the sub-atlases -

because if ayn believes that millionaires bear the weight of the heavens on their shoulders, you know they're standing on someone else's. those sub-atlases might not have the continents digging into their shoulder blades, but they certainly bear more than their share of the weight.

you didn't really think he had a monopoly on this thing, did you?

people often forget that stolen fire didn't just elevate us - it wasn't just a shaken fist in the faces of stingy gods. with that illumination came the power to heal ourselves, it gave us the power, inclination and werewithal to stop our wounds; to correct our societal problems, it gave us voice.

and just as we inherit previous generations' issues, we inherit their taste for change. we have a duty to uphold.

it has to be better than that globe.

joshua james.

2009-10-30T17:04:00.005-04:00

joshua james performing 'black july' at great scott in allston, ma

quaid-e-azam

2009-08-14T11:20:00.010-04:00

'no nation can ever be worthy of its existence that cannot take its women along with the men. no struggle can ever succeed without women participating side by side with men'

winston churchill.

2009-07-17T18:15:00.002-04:00

'success is going from failure to failure without loss of enthusiasm'