On Columbus Day...

In 1492, Columbus sailed the ocean blue.

And then the decimation of the true American people began.

Personally, I don't know what we are supposed to be celebrating on this day, so I'll just refrain from celebration. This day is just like any other for me because I just can't see myself being merry about the rape and pillaging that took place after Columbus got lost. I mean, I can see where some people are happy about this discovery (more land, wealth, proving the earth is actually round, leading to the birth of a superpower, etc.), but I cannot, honestly, say that it outweighs all the other things that happened (Transatlantic Slave Trade, genocide, continued lies to the people who really "discovered" this land and settled it well before Columbus took his first breath).

How can we say that we're celebrating the "discovery" of America when the Native Americans were already here, settled, living? How delightfully eurocentric of us...

When I'm President of the United States, I'm going to make the government make annual payments to every Native American person on Columbus Day. National Reparations Day, if you will.

/rant

On the "White Person As Savior" Film...

I promise this isn't supposed to be an "Angry Black Woman" blog, but I have a confession to make.

Hello, my name is _________, and I find it hard to watch movies where minorities are portrayed as needing the assistance of a White person in order to make it out of their plight.

Now, this is not to say that I don't think that White people should help non-White people, but can I get a film that shows some inter or intra-minority assistance? And, on top of it all, it seems like the most praised of White saviors are the women. I am not hating on my less melanized sisters in the struggle, but seriously, does anyone else feel uncomfortable about this? Dangerous Minds, Freedom Writers, The Blind Side. White women get to be the God-sent, changing force in some minority person's life. She goes through hell and high water, feeling uncomfortable in an unfamiliar setting, fighting the institutionalized racism, oftentimes arguing with other White people to help out these less-fortunate colored people. In the end, it was her sacrificing the luxury of White privilege and struggling to connect with these people to make their lives better and they will always remember her fondly. The plot tends to be the same every time...

And you know what part of the movie that really burns me up? The scene where the savior must prove to other White people that what she's doing is right. Don't get me wrong, I believe that help is great and when it comes, you should accept it, but at the same time, there has to be other people out there doing something to help little children of color make it through tough situations. Thinking back in my own life, two of my most memorable teachers were Black. All of my mentors are. But at the same time, my college advisers were all White men, including the one for African-American Studies. See that? That's called reality. That's where you can get help from non-White people AND White people. Amazing what can happen outside of movies, huh?

And then, sometimes the movie industry acts like they want to make a non-White woman look good for helping out another non-White person. Let me focus on Black people for a second... Why is it that when Hollywood does want to show Black women doing something good for another person, she often takes the form of a mammy type (The Secret Lives of Bees, for example)? There's nothing more moving in a White child's life than an overweight Black woman... Wait... That doesn't sound right...

Because it isn't.

One day, I'll have enough money and free time to make my own movie. It will star a bunch of people who will confuse the hell out of the audience. It will include a non-bougie, yet well-educated and happily married Black couple who have adopted a little blond-haired, blue-eyed child, whose best friends are a Latina, whose family has been in the States since before slavery, and an Asian boy, whose parents are not doctors/engineers/lawyers/convenience store owners/auto mechanics, but run a bed & breakfast somewhere in suburbia. The main antagonist will be a racially ambiguous entity whose only real problem is that they cannot wrap their minds around the fact that these three friends do not need to be saved.

In the end, the racially ambiguous person goes to cry in a corner because everything that Hollywood taught was a lie.

Don't be that person.

On Africa, Part III: The Re-Cap...

This entry is more for a personal reminder than to convey any particular thought...

Aburi Gardens. Golden Tulip. Home Touch. Frankie's. Kokrobite. Cape Coast. 2 twins = double room. Black outs. Electricity shortages. Water shortages. Bucket showers. Have. Volta. Wli Falls. Stalkeration. Bartering. Kente Village. Adinkra Village. It's nice to be nice. Big Milly's. Oasis. White. Black. Obruni. African. Hyphen. American. Give me a good price. Drama. More drama. Laughter. More laughter. Even more laughter. HRAC. Human rights. Judicial system. Supreme Court. No security. Insecure. Automatic weaponry. Rasta. Natural. Fat American. Taken. Spoken for. Belong to someone. Canopy walk. Kakoum. Larteh. Funerals. Dancing. Music. Family. Missing. Gold. Not gold. Art Center. Noodle lady. Donut lady. Briz Bar. Epo's. Forex. Barclay's. Gutters. Car trouble. Baby girl. Meat pies. Papaye. Urban Taste. Melting Moments. Anger. World Cup. Patriotism. Presidential Palace. Seamstresses. Taxis. Twist and Locs. Osu. Dzorwulu. Abelemkpe. Uncles. Aunties. Malaria. Stomach bacteria. Palm Wine. Guinness. Gin & Lime. Rhum. Those two songs we keep hearing. Atlantic Radio. Joy FM. Peace FM. Newspapers. News. Sweating. MTN. Vodafone. DSTV. Everything from South Africa. Juice. Water. Meat. No specifics. Late. Late. Late. Waiting. Rain. Flooding. Kumasi. Great Sports Hotel. Guest house. Village house. Someone's house. Outhouse. No plumbing. Jollof. Waakye. Kelewele. Banku. Okro Soup. Palm Nut Stew. Dark meat. Goat. Lots of goats. Long flight. Trotros. Buses. Pineapple. Watermelon. Coleslaw. Salad. Head balancing. Posture. Your chair could kill you. AIDS is real. Twi. Ga. Asante. Asantehene. Empress. Beach. Horses taking a crap in front of you on the beach. Accra Mall. Silverbird Theaters. Shoprite. Liquor Stores. Bad reception. Bad attitudes. Misunderstandings. Arguments. Reconciliation. Forgiveness. Fun. Experience. Adventure. Independence. Freedom. Maturity. Accra. Ghana.

On Singlehood, Part I: The Questions...

You know, I often find myself faced with a lot of repeated questions, and sometimes, I feel like Pooch from The Losers, "Oh, this is stupid question day? Okay, it must be stupid question day. It's stupid question day and nobody told me." And you want to know my absolute favorite?

Why is such a nice girl like you single?

Well "person who felt it necessary to question my personal life even though, 98% of the time, you have no business", I'll sum it up in a fun phrase for you: pre-emptive strikes of triflin-ness. Need clarification? This is your lucky day, because I have a list!

1) My own triflin-ness. There, I said it. Yes, I can take the blame for some of the reasons why I'm single. This includes my nasty habit of not making phone calls, my reluctance to "put myself out there" completely, and my pride. Yes, folks, pride is one of those deadly sins that all good Catholics are supposed to avoid, and I do make my attempts to do so, but I have my limits...

For example, if Young Man approaches me, we strike up conversation, the vibe is going nicely, and we begin to have regular communication, everything is going well. There seems to be equal interest from both parties, and then, out of nowhere, Young Man disappears off the radar. I say to myself, "Self, we are going to be mature about this and attempt to keep the lines of communication open. Maybe there's something going on in Young Man's life that he needs to deal with." Time passes, Young Man is not dead, as I could have assumed from his lack of communication with me, because I've found out from Random Mutual Friend, Young Man's Cousin, or even Facebook, that he's alive and well. Just not being responsive. Then, pridefully, I decide that I'm done because, "Eff that, I will not be the one to do multiple communication with no response." And so ends Young Man's chances...but his behavior brings me to my other point.

2) Other people's triflin-ness. Can anyone explain these situation to me:

Boy meets girl. Boy begins rapport with girl. Girl responds positively, encouraging further growth of friendship. Boy begins to send "signals" to girl. Girl sends "signals" back. Boy then tells girl all about his recent conquests, what he likes in a "partner", and how women can be raggedy, but in the same breath, compliments girl on all of her good qualities. Girl responds kindly, but wonders where this is going. Girl looks up and realizes that she has been banished to the Field of Friendship, never to be considered as anything more than "one of the guys".

Or.

Boy meets girl. Boy expresses interest in getting to know girl. Boy and girl hang out. Girl expresses enjoyment in response to "getting to know you" encounters. Boy, like Young Man, disappears off of the planet. Girl questions own sanity.

Or.

Boy sees girl. Boy expresses interest. Girl reciprocates. Boy and girl keep things casual, but see the potential in the situation, and say so to each other. Girl finds out boy is engaged two months later.

Okay gentlemen, I'm showing you my hand right now. From all of my personal experiences, experiences of my friends that they've told me, the movies I've watched, and the songs I've listened to, I find that your kind are very strange. You'll sleep with someone without knowing her last name, but in the morning she's a ho/slut/anything else you can think of, even though you initiated the encounter. You'll also find a woman that you find attractive, funny, kind, etc., but push her away for some reason. You'll tell someone that you want to be single right now, but then turn around and get married. You'll even marry someone who's willing to do most anything for you, but you'll cheat on her for some reason or another. I try my hardest not to write your kind off in general, because I have seen you operate in logical ways before, but to be honest, I'm just confused.

And tired of being questioned.

So, the next time someone asks me why I'm single, I'll respond thusly:

"Because..." and walk away.

On Interracial-ness...

Okay, I'm going to start this entry with a disclaimer: what I'm about to talk about is not something that I believe is exhaustive or in any way comprehensive, but a reflection on personal experiences over my short time of being on this planet and identifying as a Black American woman.

With that out of the way...

I have a hard time reconciling my feelings on the idea of interracial. This is influenced in a lot of ways, with the strongest influence being the nation I was raised in. America's decree of the "One Drop Rule" was introduced to me at a young age by my grandmother who was born in 1918. She told me that if a person has any bit of Black in them, they were Black. This includes people who may "pass" as white. Someone can be 1/32 Black, but there are still people in Black America who will label that person as Black. I understand why someone who is biracial or multiracial would want to avoid using this rule: it necessarily negates some part of their genetic makeup and part of their heritage. As I grew up, I have met a lot of people with mixed ancestry, and a lot of people who would be considered Black under America, and my grandmother's, definition, but would prefer to play up their "blackness" or "whiteness" when convenient.

For example, in high school, I received an award based on a standardized test that was given to people who denoted "Black" as their race when filling out the Scantron sheet. (sidenote: I also received an award from the same test when the entire pool of test-takers was considered, so we can throw out the affirmative action debate in this scenario.) My name, along with all the other Black women who received similar scores, were read of the PA system the morning that the school got the information. In my AP Government class, an "ambiguously raced" young woman said, within my earshot, "If I had put Black on the test, I would have gotten that award. It's not even that hard."

Gee...thanks? But, why would you want to label yourself for accolades only? You want to be Black when you can get a scholarship offer, but not when the affirmative action debate comes up? You want to be Black so you can ask for hair tips, but not when your White friends walk into the room? As I've been known to say: Everyone wants to be Black until the cops show up. However, Black is not a transient state...

See, it's "not even that hard" to mark "Black" when it's on a piece of paper, but to live "Black" every day isn't really a walk in the park for most people.

I don't want this to sound like a "woe-is-me" Black tirade about how being Black is always so difficult, because it's not always so difficult. Yet, by no means should anyone ever say that it is never hard. Especially when we turn to my other handicap: sex.

Uh-oh, I think I just heard some mouse clicks going to that "X" in the upper corner with that sentence. But don't run away, dearest reader, it's not going to be one of those entries either. You know the ones I'm talking about. No? You don't? Hmmm...how do I explain this?

It's not one of those "Black men ain't s***" or "Black men are all trifling" or "Black men are all dogs" posts. It's not one of those "White women are stealing all our men" or "why did he pick her" or "he's only with her because she's White" posts. It's definitely not one of those "successful Black women will never find husbands" posts. All that negativity is ugly and unhelpful. Besides, I have seen enough Black love to know that it's not the epidemic that the American media has made it out to be. I'm not downplaying the fact that successful Black women outnumber their male counterparts, but that's not the message I'm discussing today. No, reader, today I want to talk about the numbers game of interracial couples from the other side. What's going on with the representation of Black woman/White man couples?

I can only think of two movies where a Black woman/White man couple was central (Something New, Guess Who), and a handful of scenarios where it has come up (The Losers, Death at a Funeral, Storm and Wolverine in that alternate universe in X-Men, Halle Berry and her baby's daddy, well, Halle Berry and most of her movie roles (Introducing Dorothy Dandridge, Swordfish, and, lest we forget the Oscar winner, Monster's Ball), Naomi Campbell and her Russian lover who happens to still be married...). Now let's flip the script, and look at the Black man/White woman scenarios...actually, I'm not even going to type them all out, because I know that you've already surpassed the number of named occurrences above. I'm personally tired of seeing the majority of interracial relationships being represented in one way.

But, historically speaking, why am I surprised? In the older, uglier, years of the good ol' USA, White men were constantly talking about protecting the sanctity of White women while raping Black women. They felt that Black men would corrupt their women, and claimed that Black women were so sexual that engaging in sex acts with them was just satiating their ravenous nature. So for Black men, having a White woman can be seen as finally getting their hands in the cookie jar, while Black women are trying to recover from the negative images of ourselves being strewn around all across different media. Black men may have been dangerous, but Black women were little more than objects of sexual gratification. Add to this the fact that Black women were given the task to "keep the Black family together" while Black men were out fighting "the Man". We as Black women seem to be more infatuated with the idea of "Black love" than our Black brothers, even after the image of Black men choosing everything but us is repeatedly thrown in our faces.

Personally, I think love is love and is beautiful when shared between two people, regardless of color, but can we have some diversity in the presentations of interracial love. So, to all you rappers who want their Black women with big behinds, light skin, and long weaves; you casting agents who love pairing Black men with non-Black women without showing Black women the same consideration; and you White media outlets who fetishize Black women: stop. Because all you're doing is turning a word that could be one of the most inclusive into one of the most restrictive by normalizing one type of interracial relationship.

For all my interracial/multiracial people out there: when you say that you're not Black, remember that you aren't White/Asian/Hispanic/Latina either. I don't mean that bitterly, or want to insinuate that you must adhere to the one drop rule. On the contrary, I want you to wear all your cultures proudly and represent your uniqueness. I know that one culture may be the dominant one in the house, or that you may feel that you identify with one more than the other, and that's understandable; but it does not erase the other parts.

In the words of Shakespeare: "This above all, to thine own self be true".

All facets of thyself.

On Africa, Part II: Being a Foreign Black Person...

In the States, being Black is multi-faceted and the experience differs from person to person with the most common denominator being the fact that you know that you are oftentimes thought of as "the" minority when people talk about affirmative action and that you probably have been the only person of your race in the room at a given moment. So, to be honest with everyone reading, and myself, I will admit that when I thought about coming to Ghana, where W.E.B. Du Bois is laid to rest and Pan-Africanism was nursed in its infancy, I thought that there would be more acceptance of my "Blackness". I was not deluded enough to believe that I would look like everyone else or that people wouldn't think I was American/rich/a potential walking green card, but I did not expect the experience that I have had. I will use two examples to illustrate what I mean.

While traveling to see the beautiful waterfalls from an earlier post, we had to find a driver to take us to the park where the waterfalls are located. After standing in a crowd of taxi drivers all trying to pull us in different directions, we finally decide on a car. As I got into the car, and was about to close the door, a man looked directly in my eye and said, "You're too white." I'm sure my face was nothing less than shocked, because he started laughing at me. Too white? Me?

So let me get this straight... I'm too Black in the States, and too white in Ghana. Perfect. My initial thought is that we should take reparations from the US government, every European country involved in the US slave trade, and every African country with any number of slave castles or who had known ties to the Transatlantic Slave Trade. No? Yeah, I didn't think it was all that feasible either, but it made me feel better for about 3.95 seconds...

Then I thought about it from another angle. I remember once talking to my African-American Studies adviser and telling him that I believe that African-Americans often feel like that hyphen between the two words; caught between two worlds. We are tied to Africa by the resonating pigmentation of our flesh and the kinks in our hair, but we are not African. We also have, and still do, struggle to achieve equality in America. We have had one of the most traumatic experiences as a group of people in the United States. I am in no way saying that our experience is more intense, demoralizing, or painful than any other minority group that has been discriminated against, experienced "ethnic cleansing", or been targeted for genocide around the world. Right now I'm not trying to compare the experiences of other groups, but think about the experience that is closest to my heart.

See, when I bargain with a vendor here, they laugh at me if I say I am not rich or that I'm running low on money. At home, when I walk into certain types of stores, they assume I am too poor to afford any of their merchandise. Here, if I wear my hair out and curly, people assume it's a weave or ask me what I did to it. In an interview with a law firm, I would be considered militant or my hair would be called unprofessional. And on top of it all, the White tourists in Ghana receive the same preferential treatment here as in America for the most part. Meaning, while I am assumed to be rich, my skin denotes the fact that I will never be as rich as a White person. Which leads me to my next story...

For lunch, I often frequent a chop bar, which is like a street vendor in DC/NY except it's not movable. The women who work there are all Ghanaian and Black. The group I often venture to this chop bar with is mixed: Black, White, male, female. One day in particular, I'm the first of the group to arrive, and I order for myself and my roommate, who is also a Black woman from America. Behind us, three White men order similar dishes. We all sit down and as we sit down, I say to one of the White men, "Watch, you're going to get your food first, and I'm going to be pissed." Guess what happened...

Not only did the three of them receive their food first, when I pointed out who was eating and who was waiting, they all paused and looked around. My White male colleague quietly said, "This food tastes like guilt..."

The realization sank in that racism not only comes from people in the "dominant" race when you're a minority, but in nations that are predominantly of the same "race". I don't expect to be welcomed with open arms into your family's home and given preferential treatment, but I do expect to be treated fairly. But then again, why should my expectations of fairness be any different in a nation that was "founded" by the same people that established the country of my birth? Europe has really done a number of the brown populations of the world...and the effects seem to be everlasting.

And at the same time, I cannot sit back and expect for Pan-Africanism to be accepted by everyone and that all Africans and descendants of the diaspora will join hands in unity. There are a lot of differences and variations between all of us that may keep that from happening.

However, I do have hope. I have hope that, at some point in the future of this world, all of us will love our Blackness, in whatever way it manifests itself. I hope that Black people will get over this issue of color and not question others' pedigree or doubt their experience. I hope that our beauty will stop being ignored or fetishized. I hope that, someday, when I hear someone say they are color blind, I don't have to be afraid that they believe that, with Barack Obama's election, all of the racism in America was erased. I hope that, eventually, being articulate won't make me an exception, having a graduate degree won't make me an anomaly, and having natural hair won't make me different.

I hope.

On Africa, Part I...

Change in plans. Instead of posting the old emails I sent out to the family and friends, I've decided to write entirely new posts here. this may or may not have been influenced by the fact that I'm avoiding a certain assignment...but no matter.

Let's play a visualization game. Think about the word "Africa". What do you see? I'm going to guess that one of these four things popped into your head:

- Lions, gazelles, elephants, zebras, crocodiles, cheetahs, etc. You just went all safari on me in 0.2 seconds, didn't you? You thought about the savanna and all wonderful wildlife and how The Lion King was your favorite movie growing up, right? You were excited about the danger and beauty of nature, "mother earth", "The Circle of Life", and all that jazz, hm? Yeah, you just keep your hands and feet in the RV as we move along...

- Maybe you went all National Geographic on me. You know, topless women, Masai warriors, "tribal experiences" with faces painted and minimal clothing involving a language that sounds little more to you than grunts and/or clicks. You, my friend, have been watching too much Discovery TV, so let's change the channel...

- You may have forgotten all about the nature and history of Africa, and gone straight to the violence, chaos, and fraud. You just thought of a black Superman bent on crime who is an ex-child soldier, has experience as a Somali pirate, was one of the "bad guys" in Hotel Rwanda, and is asking you for your bank account information so you can retrieve some lottery prize. Shame on you.

- Perhaps you ventured elsewhere and landed in a "Feed the Children" ad. You're thinking about a child with flies near their eyes and mouth, drinking water from what looks like a puddle to you, being held by a mother who has a mixture of desperation, sadness, and anger in her eyes from the life experiences she has faced. You just wrote out a check for the Red Cross, didn't you? Well, before you tear that perforated sheet, let me talk to you a little...

Repeat after me: "I will not believe everything the media tells me about Africa." Feel better already, don't we? But seriously, Africa is a part of the world, and as such has come into the 21st century along with all of the other continents. In addition, it is a CONTINENT. This means that there are different places all around with different languages, food, music, clothing, wildlife, etc. Do poverty and crime exist? Yes, just like the rest of the world. Is there wildlife and are there still some villages? Of course, but the same can be said about every other continent. And don't think that these types of assumptions don't creep into the minds of Black people in the "westernized" world... Black folk, you aren't fooling me. You grew up with the same biased media, so I'm looking at you, too.

The biggest difference here? Most of the people are Black. Shocker, I know. But just because the complexions may fall along a similar area of the spectrum does not mean everyone feels the same way about race, color, or identity. This is not the place to arrive as a Black American wearing a dashiki and expect everyone to throw their arms around you and accept you as their own. While this does happen occasionally, you may not find what you thought you would. For example, you may think that because you landed in the first independent African nation, where two of the greatest minds of Pan-Africanism converged and conversed, that you would feel an overwhelming sense of Black pride. You will have your dreams deflated and possibly suffer a small mental crisis if this is what you assume. I'll have tissues and a hug waiting for you when you get back...

So before I begin to discuss my experiences in detail, I just wanted to start everyone at the same place and with a clean slate.

just a glimpse of my adventures...

flaura sans fauna

on being abroad...

i have been abroad for about a month and a half at this point, and there are so many things that i have seen and experienced that i've written about in the random updates that i've sent out to friends and family (sometimes with pictures. fancy, right?) i plan on copying those emails to this blog and expanding upon them depending on the topic. this post is mainly a "guess who's back in the house" post.

didja miss me?

On Law School...

Your girl is definitely in the Big Apple, and doing the damn thing as a law student. I would be lying if I said it was easy, but life isn't supposed to be, so there's no need in complaining.

This first month has been something of a blur... But the rundown of the highlights is a necessity!

1) I live in an apartment and pay bills. Whoa. I've been an adult for a while, but now I feel really grown. Like, I-could-get-evicted-not-just-yelled-at-by-mom grown. I have two roommates, who are both really chill. When I arrived, however, I seriously doubted the fact that we would get along. Why you ask? One word: refrigerator. When I say it looked like something died up in there, I mean I saw the chalk outline and smelled the embalming fluid... I immediately had flashbacks to long house meetings and presents from mice. I was not letting that happen again... So...I got my own personal fridge and microwave, but then I come to find out that the roommates aren't the trifling ones, it was the girl who used to live in my room. Deep sigh of relief & a happy dance later, I'm back on track!

2) I saw Jay-Z in concert. Best. Night. Ever! There really is no need to say anything else on this point.

3) I had some undergrad reunion time, and met up with some really cool new people. I like the way my circle is expanding and shifting and solidifying around me. I feel good with most of the relationships I have right now, so good memories are definitely in the future.

4) Speaking of relationships... No, I"m not in one, but... Have you all seen the eyecandy available in NYC? Let me tell you a story that proves to me God is a woman...

So, it's a 90+ degree day, and I'm walking towards Broadway from my apartment. Right as I'm coming up to the corner, a young man walking adjacently to my path comes into view. In a matter of three smooth swagtastic steps, he has removed his shirt to bare his glistening body to the sun and all who could see. The reactions of the surrounding women (and some men) were enough to make a great sitcom scene, I promise. As he looks in my direction, I get a smile and a nod, and I know I'm going to have a good day. The end. Amen.

5) I have an all new stomping ground, and the newness of it excites me with anticipation. I feel the potential of the law, the concrete, the people, and the interactions of all three coming together to form a stained glass mosaic of color and sound.

Sigh... It's going to be a good 3 years.

On Poetry IV...

part 1 - the destination
city of hopes & dreams
funneling it all like jell-o shots
or j.lo on the 6
speed racer city streets moving
quick as my mind
quick as this pen
speed & danger, moving all the time
lights camera action
runways & sidewalks
uptown & downtown
theaters shows & art

part 2 - the path
NYC-bound
DC-bred
Lex Vegas latest
Dakar, the nose of the Motherland
Sent sweet scents circling me
Sending me to streets north
Pine Ridge, my tiospaye held arms open
When tears of mountains shed
Watering these hopes of generations pushing north
Caribbean cuisine causes currents
Callous colonials creating conflict
Cleaning, carving, culture, coursing north
The world pushes past thoughts & plans
Laid straight through the curves of my mind & body
Every corner & word pulsing out, up, North

Copyright A. Davis

On Summertime...

*cue the obligatory Will Smith song*

Ah, yes. We have once again arrived at the point in time where we as young adults have the right, damn near obligation, to set loose, go out, forget work, and make less than reasonable mistakes. It's the summer, and it not only brings with it the end of classes and my birthday, but it may also be seen as the harbinger of a multitude of other pleasantries.

And here's a compiling of my favorites as I sit at my desk, finished with all assignments due, at 10-something AM:

• midnight movie viewings (Transformers is the ish. If you haven't seen it, you're late already.) HP will be that crack. Yeah, I said it.
• 3 AM IHOP. Not to be confused with 3 AM WaHo in the L during the academic year. See, that 3 AM IHOP is significantly sweeter and delicious because you don't go back to your dorm room feeling the syrupy guilt digesting in your stomach...
• summer weekends! ie. 5 PM Friday-11 PM Sunday night. 11 PM because I've assigned myself a summer bedtime for Sundays. Law school apparently induces suicide-level stresses, and I don't need that kind of problem compounded with sleep deprivation. Depression isn't sexy folks...
• COOKING OUT. Nothing better than carcinogens on red meat. I'm actually serious on this.
• music overload. Welcome back to the city little girl, bring with you your deprived ears and saturate them with caressing melodies, witty rhymes, and new artists. (Wale's "Chillin'" is a new must. Not new per se, but a definite windows down blaster for me.)
• co-worker interaction. Indulge in the inter-office drama from the outside and temporarily as you, the perennial intern, are subject to it for only 2-3 months. teheehee.
• DVR/TiVo. You are no longer a true TV-watcher until you have induced comatose behavior to enjoy a full season of a show that was not available on your campus. (see: HBO's Brand New Voices. My heart was always with Hawaii, no lie. And if that Philly coach had cried ONE MORE TIME, I was going to take a train ride and whoop up on him. Punk.)

This list is not exhaustive by any means, but someone just did the I'm-going-to-walk-into-your-cubicle-and-be-nosy routine. You're not slick...

More later!

On Spring Term...

A lot of people got me really excited about the prospects of being in my small liberal arts college town during the six week mini-mester. However, this term has ended up being the dreariest, coldest, least sun-filled spring term in anyone's memory.

I think I may have something to do with it... Carrying 10 credits for six weeks (when normal folk are hitting anywhere between 0 and 4), I think I've brought the tears of the Lord down to this campus because I procrastinated my twelve week terms covering my tracks with the excuse of "taking advantage of my liberal arts options" when my major motivation happened to be NOT taking a lab science.

But I will say this, spring term has had a few interesting experiences for me:

-the resurrection of Truth or Dare as a hilarious pastime
-the resurgence in love of film and poetry
-the re-dedication to Biblical catching up/study
-the return to randomized late night fun

All that, and some Ouija board sessions, have made this term...interesting...to say the least (and kept me remiss in my duties as a good blogger...).

I'll be back, I promise.

On Poetry III...

Shoutout to Gwendolyn Brooks (whose style I'm imitating in this poem...)

New Progress

And still we march in all black, progressing
Against the music of generations
Fed on the prejudice of mothers who
Keep pain warm like breast milk for dark infants.
Still we don the colors red black and green.
Still we salute the flag red, white, and blue,
Revere the stripes, look longingly, pray
For safety as those who also prayed, sang.
But inward boils a new power, an awe.
No fear, a growing fulfillment burns hot.
For even if we end up losing out
How shall they deny, back stepping; and how
Close the doors? Push, push. The sound
Of echoed chains remain. And again free.

Copyright A. Davis

On Poetry II...

attraction is something both sweet and true
looking and touching, the voice harbors sin
je sais que je ne veux pas être la foule
comme la belle voix, je ne regrette rien
shadows close tight around our grasped hands
because doubt shatters now what love could do
et, maintenant, tu me donne ta main
je pense que tu me dit bienvenue
holding fast to thoughts that now seem so vain
slipping through your smooth fingers, nevermind
mais, entre l’amour et vous, vit la haine
and end we sought, you could never find
jamais ou toujours, vous pensez de moi
mais, j’oublie la voix, la promesse que toi

copyright A. Davis

On Rejuvenation...

Ahhhh...relaxation....

I just slept more in the past two days than I did during the exam week at university... I sometimes wonder what kind of life I'm living when I begin looking forward to the breaks when classes first start up. Don't get me wrong, I do look forward to the classes I've signed up for, and the events on my campus, but I think I've outgrown the small college town setting...

I guess it's a good thing that I'll probably be in a nice, large, urban setting next year. (Law School = three more years of not having to become fully acclimated to the "real world")

But then I wonder if I really want to go to a big city. I just got used to the feel of the college town, and I'm about to tear myself away from it to readjust myself to the bustle of city life... Wait, let's be real, I've never been a small town girl. I like the type of diversity that you only find in cities with populations at least in the hundreds of thousands. I like the opportunity to go to a museum, then to a boutique, then hop on the public transportation system, go to a 5-star restaurant, hit a bar/club, meet people, go home at 3 am, and there's still traffic, sleep. Rinse, and repeat.

Mmmmm....metropolitan life. I can't wait!

On Creativity...

Show and tell time...

So, I have a confession to make: I have a huge regret... I never pursued the creative side of me.

Don't get me wrong, I get my read/listen/view/taste/write on, but there's something of a performer that was never let out in the way she could have. I actually cannot remember the last time I put pen to paper in a creative manner.

When I was younger, I had desires of a bohemian life, full of colors, sounds, harmonies, galleries, studios, roadtrips, 8-hour conversations, and knowing the band. I was going to do it all, and then become president. My talent would be words, and I would give them to audiences every night relentlessly and with passion.

And then I was taught the five paragraph essay, the lyric poem, and the book review. I was forced to compartmentalize the very form that seemed to breathe freely and with ease within my mind.

And now, I'm afraid that it's gone. My head is too much like something from The Container Store: all sterile and clean, transparent and cold. It feels like science in my head, and it makes every essay feel like a ball bouncing hollowly through rooms that used to be alive and move with syllables that flowed on rivers of rhythm and groove.

I need a release.

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."