On Weekend Living...

Here's something interesting that I've realized about myself and a few of my friends/acquaintances: the people we are in class and during the week does not reflect the person we sometimes see between 5 pm Friday and 5 pm Sunday. Behavior switches when that final dismissal bell rings, and resulting actions can include a number of different things, especially with the added influence of music/lack of class/procrastination/alcohol/or any number of things.

Some people choose to use the weekend as a time to indulge in their deadly sin of choice. Of the seven, the three I often see the most are:

Sloth

Those who choose sloth decide that the weekend is the perfect time to do absolutely nothing. And I mean nothing... If these people didn't have to use the bathroom or eat to live, they would not leave their bed, let alone their room. These people give a new meaning to sleeping in. Is it 6 pm? They just woke up. Did they pull an all-nighter? No, they just woke up every 6 hours or so to rehydrate, adjust positioning in the bed, go to the bathroom, and go back to sleep. They watch church on television because they can't be bothered to get out of the bed.

Honestly, if they could, they would attach a catheter and an IV of saline, turn off the lights, disconnect the phone, and go comatose for two days straight. And love every second of it...

Pride

You know that girl who goes to class in sweats and a hoodie during the week? The one who lives in tennis shoes and comfortable clothing? Or how about baggy jeans guy? The one always wearing a questionably clean shirt? Have you ever seen them on the weekend? Even if you did, you wouldn't recognize them because once the clock hits a certain hour on Friday, they transform into the most conceited person you never knew you knew.

She wouldn't be caught dead in someone's frat basement without heels and a suggestive outfit. He wouldn't leave his room until he was sure that everyone looked at him when he exited. Why do they do this at this time? Because during the week, they're too busy being academic perfectionists to care about what they look like. They're so good at this transformation, they can execute it better than any make-over show on televison, and in a shorter time. Their before/after shots from the weekend could inspire any awkward teen to have hope in a future of happiness. In fact, they have perfected this skill to the point where you almost want to tell them to stop being a student and become a professional make-up artist/beautician/fashion consultant/etc.

They would, but then they're afraid that they might make someone look better than they do...

Lust

Ah, lust. The most infamous and [arguably] most practiced of the sins. It's existance has inspired many a drunken hook-up, depressing morning after, and the invention of the morning after pill.

I'm not one to judge anyone. Seriously. This is just a series of observations.

Girl A has had a long week. She's stressed about the impending doom of her GPA. She's single. She has the unfortunate situation of attending a PWI where the women of color severely outnumber the men of color, and the men of non-color [what?] don't seem to be going for the chocolate-y types. She hasn't had any considerable play in ages, it seems, and she just wants to de-stress this weekend.

Add alcohol, stir.

She has become a dancefloor goddess in search of someone to worship at her temple. Confidence on overload, standards skewed, BAL increasing, and the next thing you know it's the next morning. No, she didn't wake up next to someone, nor did she have to perform the infamous walk of shame. But she does have some pictures on her camera of her and Boys A-G scandalously enacting things she has memorized from music videos but never planned to perform in public. She was tempted to go further, but either God, her best friends, or her passing out prevented it.

She quickly showers, erases the photos, and makes her way to church, hoping that there's nothing she can't remember that would cause permanent social damage...

And it all happens again the next weekend. Promises made to ourselves are forgotten as stress and exhaustion tempt us toward slipping back into our weekend lifestyles.

At least for 48 more hours...

On Late Night Musings (Part 2)...

I have found that I tend to think a lot when I should be sleeping (i.e. the fact that the time stamp on this entry is about 1:40 am). And while late night hours tend to make people groggy, for me it tends to be a time where I can't convince and argue myself into accepting the little half-truths I tell myself throughout the day.

2:15 pm : "I can have this cookie. It's delicious and won't be that bad."
2:15 am : "I can have this cookie. And if I do, it will haunt the back of my thighs for ages."

3:00 pm : "If I take a nap right now, I'll make it to that meeting and feel refreshed!"
3:00 am : "If I take a nap right now, I'll be late to class, miss that meeting and look like death..."

3:30 pm : "Man, life is going well right now... I'm loving it!"
3:30 am : "Man, life is going well right now, but I should really focus a little better, and stop being a procrastinator, and go to the gym, and call people back, and...and...ZzZzZzZz"

See what I mean?

But in my musings this early morning, I began to think about some startling statistics about being an educated Black American woman. I really don't like using the term "educated" because it's somewhat condescending most times...but I can't think of a suitable substitute at present, so here we go.

Statistically, the longer I stay in school, the fewer chances I have at marrying a Black American man.

What does that mean?

Well, in the grand scheme of things, it means that it's a good thing I have an open mind about love, but if I'm brutally honest with myself, am I going to find love outside of the Black community? Yeah, I saw Sanaa Lathan do it in Something New (great movie), but how often will that happen in real life? And, to top it all off, it's not that we're just not finding Black husbands, Black American women are the least married group of women in the US right now.

And while my studies take the forefront of my mind, I can't help but notice these things around the time of the biggest formal at our wonderful mountain school. I look around seeing people importing dates, being asked out, etc. And then I think about the pecking order of marriage. I put the statistics with my personal experience, and I see myself with many pets, a nice house, a great music collection, a fabulous movie selection, a glamorous wardrobe, but no significant other. I actually do believe this folks. Blame the 21 years of singleness, I guess.

But, I do know that I could "change" this singleness, but I'd rather be single, with friends, and happy than compromise the promises I've made myself by changing my behavior just to attract someone. I don't think it's worth it in the long run. What good is it to have someone to look at when I roll over in bed if I can't look myself in the mirror everyday. No thanks...

So why am I talking about this? I don't know. A combination of things that includes a capstone about Black American men in the education system, a class about expectations of women, a philosophy course focusing on social inequality and fair opportunity. Oh, and the coupling off of the formal. Can't forget that one...

And to my non-Black sisters who are increasingly finding the educated/athletic Black American man as a great option for husband material...please don't think I blame you or am bitter in any way. Trust me, I'm all for the love in whatever color, shape, size, or creed it comes in. With that said, I will acknowledge that I have had my own moments of he's-only-with-her-because-she's-not-Black-and-he-thinks-she's-easier thoughts. Sorry...but that's how it is on our campus/in the world sometimes...

I'll be over it in the morning.

On The Talented Tenth...

"You misjudge us because you do not know us." - W.E.B. DuBois

This one will probably be a long one. Just some forewarning...

I have never been one to encourage elitism, to feel as though I am better than another as a person, to judge others based on something trivial, or to look down upon others upon a pedestal of any kind. Yet, I am a self-described "Uppity Negro" and sometimes like to think that I am a part of DuBois' dream of The Talented Tenth.

Let me explain the seeming discrepancy here...

As a student of African-American Studies, I have had a longstanding affair with DuBois. I have loved him since I've known of him. I believe he was one of the best voices emerging from the Black community. He had a plan for the American Negro, and yet we have fallen away from the desired outcome of bettering ourselves by using each other. In the essay that serves as the inspiration for my blog title, DuBois describes the advancement of the Negro through the liberal education of what he deemed "The Talented Tenth". These are the leaders of the Black community who would lead the way to both equality and success for the race.

I know what you're thinking, and yes, you're right, that does sound a little bit...elitist, right? But hear me out.

DuBois did not place this onus on a group of American Negros because the race could only produce this many successes. He applied this idea to every race, each needing the education, ingenuity, and talent of a select few. DuBois desired to create a race of "men" as opposed to the race of laborers desired by Booker T. Washington.

I genuinely have nothing against manual labor or blue-collar work. It's what America was built up with. But I do have a problem with a political leader saying that a group of people attempting to shake of the stigma of slavery should turn to whatever employment available "just to get by". Washington attempted to appease the concerns of White America through his message of "cast down your bucket where you are" and that something that rubs me the wrong way.

No, I'm not that militant...I don't think.

Seriously though, I have nothing against people. I love people. People are what make life fun most of the time. Yet, I cannot help but cringe when people believe that racism does not exist today, that everything in the past should stay in the past, that we have made it to some magical "color blind" place in the world. I don't think we have, but I also don't go on a hunt for "The Man", seeking little instances of racism just because I can. A wise person once told me that if you look hard enough for something, you'll find it. And who really wants to go knocking on the door of racism?

So where does that put the uppity brown skinned, afro having, soul loving, neo-Pan-Africanist like me?

Well, it puts me in the position to try to do what hasn't quite been fulfilled yet in the Black community. Globally folks, not just here in these parts. See, I believe there's something to this idea of Black unity, but I don't want anyone hitting me up looking for a Marcus Garvey type... I'm more of a one-love-flower-child, not a let's-all-get-back-on-the-boat-person.

Because I can't swim that well just yet. Oh, and I don't think it's cool to just try to export all the non-African Black people to Africa and displace millions of people... We all saw how well that went in the Middle East.

But there is a need for improvement around the world. And I don't think this is limited to Black people, either. But we have something of a special case here in the United States. We just elected our first Black President. We have a Black First Family, which makes me think of the first families that walked this planet...

They started in Africa. A lot of knowledge has come from the epicenter of the proverbial Motherland. History has not been kind to her, but the good thing is that we aren't out of time. I'm going to use my talents as best I can to better what I was given. Along the way, I've chosen to go the route of the scholar/intellectual because I'm not the craftsperson or the engineer. We are all needed, but some of us won't answer the call.

So what do you think? Will you be a part of that fraction that changes things for the better?

"Men of America, the problem is plain before you. Here is a race transplanted through the criminal foolishness of your fathers. Whether you like it or not the millions are here, and here they will remain. If you do not lift them up, they will pull you down. Education and work are the levers to uplift a people. Work alone will not do it unless inspired by the right ideals and guided by intelligence. Education must not simply teach work it must teach Life. The Talented Tenth of the Negro race must be made leaders of thought and missionaries of culture among their people. No others can do this work and Negro colleges must train men for it. The Negro race, like all other races, is going to be saved by its exceptional men."

On Social Interactions...

I love being social.

There, I admitted it.

But for me, I think it goes beyond simply talking to people and exchanging anecdotes...I really really like listening to people's stories and telling some of my own (there's also a certain someone who can attest to my love of creating stories on a whim...but that's another topic for another day). I truly believe that a lot of the things we learn while in college come from the others around us, and that the composition of a school's student body plays a role in the retention of certain information about life. And, as vanilla as my school seems at times, I'd like to argue that it is actually french vanilla, with the specs of interesting people dispersed throughout, adding flavor to my life.

There are some people who have peppered my life over the past decade or so of memory that I've retained with delicious events and experiences. So...here's to you!

Here's to the words we made up and conglomerations of spasmodic motion that simultaneously entertained and struck fear into others, laughing as we document these occurrences in each others rooms, basements, cars, and at school, still wearing our plaid and knowing the entire time that we would always be in touch with each other on a different level.

Here's to the development of relationships that withstand the test of time, the pain of separation, and the events that make life the suspenseful roller coaster that it has been, twisting and turning, but never shaking off my sister's hand who has held fast through arguments, disagreements, tears, reunions, introductions, confrontations, secrets, dreams, and inspirations.

Here's to the awkward introductions across lunch tables, inciting a riot of friendship that produced wonderful summer laughs, language changes, html codings, conventions, instant messages, festivals, sleep overs, dinners, drinks, and all, with us knowing that it will continue to be fun whenever the chemical reaction of our combined presences come back in contact.

Here's to watching sunrises on final mornings, writing papers throughout nights, misunderstandings, misgivings, truth, disappointment, growth, maturity, and new facets to friendships that start fragile and end unbreakable.

Here's to the bold actions we performed, the questions we knew we should never ask, the late night calls, the bad television shows, the voices on the radio, and the nights on the town that have made everything worth remembering even if we purposely created a situation where forgetting was plausible but impossible.

And most importantly...

Here's to family who has never failed to make life the thing worth living, even in the dark moments where the sun seems little more than a fleeting memory, yet the memories are what keep us striving forward through nicknames, clumsiness, awkward emotional growth spurts, lingering physical growth spurts, birthdays, holidays, breaks, vacations, on flights, in new countries, with new jobs, meeting new people, writing songs, singing off-key, sharing stories, shedding tears, holding fast to one another knowing that there will forever be someone there worth knowing and experiencing each day with.

xoxo

On Social Interactions (The Party Edition)...

Partying to different people means different things. To some, partying is a full out event, including the pre-, during, and post- sessions. Others use it as a miniature diversion in between studying/working. Still some decide that partying is an excuse to partake in behavior that they would normally condemn if seen outside of a dark, humid, sweaty, alcohol-tinged lens.

What do I think of it?

Well...personally, I think that partying can be best described as a way for me to enjoy the company of others in a setting where we all are relaxed, happy, and energetic. It becomes a place where we can all dance and move around in each other without having to explain ourselves because everyone else feels the beat is breathing in the atmosphere and has let go of the complicated thoughts of the day.

Picture this:

You walk into a room, reasonably lit, with light reflecting off of the white surfaces in an irresistible glow...the bass of the music resounds in your ears, drowning out the panicked racing of you heart from life's stresses...almost sub-consciously, your body moves to the beat that you have been carried into the center of the room by, pulled as if by a lasso...and you just move, touching others occasionally, sometimes intentionally other times by chance, but either way, you just go with it...conversation is limited to smiling and singing lyrics across small groups of other party-goers...and as the needle scratches the vinyl of that song, the party pulses in unison, knees bent, heads high, hands moving, as one...

From the Chitlin' Circuit drop-ins of decades past to the extravagance of Gatsby's West Egg smashes, partying is a part of life.

Love it.

On Late Night Musings...

I have never been one to follow the norm...especially when it comes to sleeping at night. As a result, I've become a connoisseur of late night television watching as well as web surfing, and sometimes, I even find myself preferring to sleep during the day between classes and stay up at night. What is with this attraction to the night?

My father might say that this is a result of reading too many Anne Rice/Stephen King novels or watching too many horror films. My mother would probably say that it has something to do with me not knowing when to go to bed because I've been a night owl for as long as I can remember.

The night also brings up thoughts about different aspects of life, like what I'm going to do with my life, the meaning of life, how all our lives are interconnected, and other thoughts like that...and then I end up getting derailed by some trivial distraction and have to start all over again. Sometimes I end up thinking about things, and not even knowing how my train of thought got there...

It'll end up being something like this:

Man, I can't wait until Spring Break, one year we should definitely hit up South America, Brazil seems nice, or maybe the other coast...somewhere where the ancient Inca used to stay and built up their great civilization, geez history is full of great dynasties...I wonder what people thought of our "new member presentation"...I should really download some more Andre 3000 music...I wonder how the fam in ATL is doing...where's the next family reunion?...why is everyone getting engaged/married/pregnant all of a sudden?...when does life begin to the point where the decision no longer belongs in the hands of the person whose life is being controlled by the pregnancy?...who even started "religion" and why the heck did they make things so freaking "exclusive"...oooh, I think I'm running low on conditioner...should I cut my hair again?...wait...why shouldn't I cut my hair again? It is just hair...why do Black women care so much about hair anyway...oh snap, that's my jam! Heeey!...I wonder if this person singing actually knows about "love"...shoot...I don't really know about "love" like that...*sigh* it's 3 AM... (sleep)

You could basically swap any topic in or out of that internal monologue/stream of consciousness, and it could fit. It's like a blob-o-gram of thought when I should be resting my mind.

But then again, do I really want complete rest brought to my mind just yet? Nah...if that happens...who'll fight the power? So in the meantime in between time, let the musings flow like the Seine.

Oh snap, the negro speaks of rivers!

On the "Black Experience" on a "White Campus" (Part II)...

And it don't stop...

The lasting effects of this exclusive lifestyle continue to impact us well into the future. Proof? I just met an alumnus who graduated in '89 and now works for the Coca-Cola Company. He shared some sentiments about our campus that live on to this day, including the self-segregation practices that sometimes occur.

I'm not shocked...but I wish I could've asked him if he plays "spot the Negro" in certain situations...

or is that just me?

On the "Black Experience" on a "White Campus" (Part I)...

What is there to be said about the college experience that has not be relegated through music, cinema, literature, and conversation? The very unique-ness of one's experience depends on so many variables that one "standard" college experience is not only a misnomer, but ridiculous in its attempts to oversimplify a major life experience for some. I can, in my own words, describe some of my "college experience", as is the plan, but I would hate for anyone reading this to think that there is a one-size-fits-all formula for it. Consider this something like a disclaimer...

Therefore, without further ado, topic one of a series of musings...

My very old, well-endowed, privately operated, and predominately White institution exists in a universe that was vaguely familiar to me before landing here, but has opened up to a place that I will forever remember and hold close. Along with the traditions of the "gallant South", we have the ever-popular(ly cited) Speaking Tradition. I enjoy this tradition because it allows me to identify with some aspect of this school's tradition willingly, if not gladly. In choosing to come here, I wanted some part of the school's heritage that I could talk about without having to add clauses ad nauseum to explain why it should be acceptable.

And yet, I feel as though I have been failed in some way. I had no delusions of 100% participation from the entire student body, but I do expect common courtesy. I bet you think I'm going to drift into how this is disproportionately affecting me because I'm Black, but that's not the angle I'm hinting at. In fact, I think, in some ways, my Blackness has afforded me with a few other traditions, along with the Speaking Tradition. See, we members of the Black community on this campus pride ourselves in knowing most, if not all, of the other Black people by name (year, hometown, favorite color, social security number...). This is not because we like every other Black person. This is not because we are incorrigibly nosy. This is not because we only associate with other Black students.

It's because there is something about this campus that will link you to the Black community, whether you like it or not. You will become someones "Black friend", you will have your hair practices questioned, you will become the representative for your race in classes against your will. And these experiences provide a common ground. I feel secure enough in the stories I have heard over the years from past and present students that range from little anecdotes of confusion due to a lack of experience/knowledge ("...and she asked my why I didn't go out with my hair wrapped! Swear to God!") to events of blatant racism ("...and they published an article saying that we lower the standards of the school...ain't that bout a...") to say that you, as a Black person, will experience some event where your race matters in an unnecessary way.

Does this negate the education we receive at the hands of (mostly) qualified professors and administration...not entirely, but it does play a role in the development of numerous conditions:

UNA : "Un-Identified Negro Alert" - This is a state of being where if you see a Black person walking around campus, and you don't know their name, a silent alert is sounded, resulting in you quickly looking around for another Black person to make eye-contact with and nod in their direction to know if they have registered with the Black students on campus yet. This may result in awkward moments of silence, staring, head turning, and potential pointing. If there is not a prospective students weekend, or some other Black student to claim them, this person quickly becomes the topic of conversation until their purpose is discovered.

The GE : "The Gathering Effect" - Where two or more are gathered, more shall come. This is a process by which a large gathering of Black students occurs at random, usually resulting in "loud" conversation or laughter, moments of "inside jokes", and, of course, the curious looks of some students who didn't realize just how many Black students we have. By the second or third year of attendence, Black students have become so familiar with this process that they can almost predict a gathering and also have no fear of venturing outside of their rooms alone because they know, inevitably, there will be a Black person wherever they are going.

The H-U : "The Hook-Up" - We, as Black students, offer a level of diversity of thought and appearance to our campus, and the majority of Black workers on our campus take notice. There is a group within the Black community that has established a bond with these workers that is often un-provoked, but happily accepted because there are often events that both Black students and Black workers perceive that go un-noticed by the majority of the campus. Can manifest itself in discounts on food/drinks.

(This is not an exhaustive list, by any means...but some things are of the group, if you know what I mean...)

(no actually it's because my fingers are getting tired...)

What do these conditions mean for the Black student, like myself? It means that I have had the benefit of seeing a side of my university that some people are completely unaware of. Sometimes it's fun and I love having our "subculture" but at times, it makes me wonder if Admissions knows what they're doing. Do they know that we, as Black students, have something of our own type of initiation into college life on this campus? And, if they knew, how much of it would come as a surprise (both good and bad)?

However, I will offer this as something of an indicator to how our school operates at times:

Everybody wants to be Black, until the cops show up...

On Late Night Conversations...

I find that the later in the night, and the longer the conversation, honesty is inevitable once you hit near to 3 am. We find ourselves relating to others with ease and letting our guards down more frequently. Nothing builds community greater than a string of conversation held together by loose references linking together into a stream of consciousness flowing from one person to another throughout the group of however many people you happen to be talking to, from family to childhood to "whoopins" to television (inevitably resulting in a rousing chorus of the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air theme song) to movies to love to life in general and back around giving way to thoughts you never knew you thunk...

Or something like that.

So for all you readers out there in the blogosphere, I would like you to remember that there are two things that loose the floodgates of the tongue like no other: alcohol and sleepiness.

Did I just say that? Blame it on the...

tiredness

On Black Women and Lyrical Content...

Yesterday, as with many days, I began an interesting conversation in the dining hall of my predominantly white institution of higher education. The conversation involved only Black students (and by Black, I mean any person who, when walking down Main Street when this university was founded, would have been quickly shackled, silenced, and sent to the fields), and circled around the topic of lyrics in rap music. The conversation sounded something like this:

Black Guy 1: How do you, as Black women, listen to rap music?
Black Guy 2: I know, I don't understand how you all do it...
Black Woman 1: Easy...they're not talking about me.
(Laughter)
BG1: But I think they might be.
BW2: Really, I just ignore the lyrics in the verses and most of the chorus and go with the catchy beat.
BW3 (Myself): Personally, I think Black women are caught up in mixed messages by rappers. One second Tupac is talking about how bad life is for us with "Brenda's Got a Baby" ---
BG1: Then you have "I Get Around".
BW3: Exactly...

So what's the point? Why do we continuously subject ourselves to lyrics that oftentimes demean and slander us as women, placing us, in my opinion, into three categories: the whore, the gold-digger, the wife/mother. We are left with few options, and little chance of forging a new identity within the constraints of pop culture. Nowadays, some men tell us that the lines are not so defined, that you don't care about her past indiscretions because you love her, or that it's a free world and we can all do what we want, but the second the two of you are in an argument, out come the insults:

slut
whore
b*tch
ho
slutty ho b*tch
b*tchy slut whore

...you get the picture.

So here's my theory: Black women, you have a tough decision to make. You can choose to distinguish yourself firmly on either side of the line, pro-freedom of expression or anti-rap lyrics degrading women, or you can do what I like to call the auditory bachata...swaying side to side in a rhythmic dance preparing for the next verbal assault or lyric uplifting.

Black men, you have a responsibility to be honest, yes, but to also be respectful. You can continue to barrage of vulgarities flung so freely in our direction, or you can make an effort to taper that type of talk so that your mother/sister/wife/daughter doesn't become another casualty.

On Blogging... (Part I)

There comes a point in one's life where questions of aspirations, desires, opinions, and responsibilities come to the forefront of the mind...

That is not where my mind resides at present. Currently, I am in a state of confusion about life in general and what I plan on doing with my life in particular. Yes, law school and all that jazz, but what else am I going to do?

I'm going to blog, that's what I'm going to do. Why?

Well, sir, the better question is "why not?"

And so we begin...