I Need the GOP to Stop Caring About Me

I could wax rhapsodic about the paternalism of White liberalism. In many ways the party that boasts a high percentage of Black support can often be a place where actual Black people are treated like creatures too childlike and ignorant to help themselves. But despite the right's best attempts, they are not shifting this paradigm and helping Blacks get off the "liberal plantation" but rather attempting to install themselves as the new overseers. So to the GOP I have one thing to say: stop caring about me. 

In the past two months, Newt Gingrich has used his (failing) campaign, to expound on what the poor (read: Black) community "needs". Apparently with Newt by our side, we will be able to be janitors, learn how to wake up and earn a paycheck, and stop demanding food stamps. Thank you Newt, for saying the hard statements and asking the hard questions. I, for one, welcome our new master and hope to bask in the light of his .... I'm sorry my eyes just rolled back so far in my head I lost sight of what I was trying to say. Oh, yeah, I'm going to need you to have a seat and stop trying to "save" me.

You know what's a really good way to court the so-called Black vote? Stop treating us as if we're ignorant. Stop treating us as if we've a monolithic community who doesn't know how to help ourselves. Stop using your stereotypes to create facts that are untrue (in fact if any community needs to stop asking for food stamps and demand paychecks it's the White community). And most of all, stop trying to justify your blatant racism (which you can watch in the video below).

Frankly, it's insulting. You don't see me running up into their houses forcing White folks to face their privilege. Or telling the Republicans or Christian right that  I know how to help their community stop being such vain and immoral dicks. Whatever your qualms with Obama may be he's never stood up and said he knows what's better for the American people or any individual community than they do themselves. Even at times when it might have been easier to just say, "I'm smarter than you and this will work out if you let it". So I say again to the GOP, if this is how you care, I'm going to need you to stop.

Sisterhood ... Everlasting.

*Yesterday I began and finished Sisterhood Everlasting by Ann Brashares. It's the follow-up to her best-selling series Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants and fast-forwards to these girls (now women) at the age of 29 as they deal with where their lives have taken them as well as *spoiler* the death of one of their sisters. If you, like myself, grow attached to fictional characters let's just say I would not recommend reading this book in public. A bottle of red wine while reading in bed is highly recommended and you might want to grab a box of tissues too. Either way, I was inspired to write to (and about) my own sisterhood. I hope I can capture what they mean to me. 

I would say I came to the bonds of sisterhood late. I grew up a middle child. Not in the factual sense of the word. I was an only child for many years but I had one cousin who was older than me and one who was younger. They were my sisters for all intents and purposes. Quiana was the beautiful one, I was the smart one and Denise was the youngest who followed after the both of us. We didn't have a lot of other friends who were girls and I was often jealous of the friends they did have. In my head we were sisters. They were friends. It was not the same.

As we grew older, we grew apart. I went off to boarding school and suddenly I was surrounded by other girls. I had lots of friends, male and female. Then in our 11th grade year I discovered that I had more than friends. I'd found new sisters. That year was a roller-coaster of triumphs and tragedies and firsts and adventures. I found that my friends and I fit together like puzzle pieces. Even today, I mark myself by them. Not competitively but as a sign that things have really happened. Sheena, who came to every performance I had in high school, still cheers me on and I think moreso than myself she can enumerate all of my talents better than I can. Sometimes I wish she could do every job interview for me because I sound immensely better from Sheena's point of view than I do from my own. I'll never know if I'm on time unless Stephanie's late. Whenever we're together we fall into the same patterns. Steph is late and I sigh and complain but I never show up later than the time we agreed upon. One day she'll be there exactly when we said. Jadele is our moral compass, our spiritual leader. She creates from some deep place and reminds us that the rest of us were born to create as well. Nekia is the bitch and I mean that in every possible positive way I can think of. She keeps us in check. She tells us the truth. But she'd also give you her last and be by your side if you called her there. And I am the organizer, the gatherer. I drive everyone crazy with my plans. I live for romanticized grand plans and I make all of us sit in rooms together and badger everyone until they do what I want. These are my sisters. Forged through tears and laughs when we were just 16. I have the right to make us sit in rooms together. 

It's not to say that I haven't had other close friends. Other people that I consider part of my family. When I went to college I sought to replicate what I had at boarding school. And I found an amazing group of women who I love deeply. Luckily, and somewhat astonishingly, I've managed to move across the country from my sisters and find a great support system and people who have welcomed me into their lives. I guess more than anything I'm lucky that my sisters left me with two things: the ability to form a family wherever I go and a piece of themselves that I carry every day. Often, I find that I'm always a few minutes late. And I like to push and drive the creative spirit of those around me. I revel in all of my friend's accomplishments and life changing moments as if they were my own. I speak the truth even when it hurts. And my heart is always open. I'm always accepting more sisters. 

The Bro-ing of America

I know this isn't a new trend by any stretch of the imagination. Terms like bromance have long since entered our lexicon but I ask you: does everything that guys like to do have to be "bro"-ed out?

Because of our strictly defined gender roles, whenever men get interested in something that isn't deemed "masculine" we have to give it special name. It started out innocently enough with words like "metrosexual" (cause G-d forbid a man like to get the dirt from under his nails WHERE IT BELONGS!). Then the idea that two men might like to hang out with each other became a very affront to our sensibilities and the term "bromance" was coined. (No homo, though). Now because men are out of work, they've taken to doing the shopping and this becomes a phenomenon requiring special "man aisles" at the store. And heterosexual men have started to get botox to stave off aging and it's called "bro-tox" (see video below). Check out Urban Dictionary's extensive list of bro terminology to see how pervasive it's become.

A lot of this comes out of a need to constantly reinforce manhood in an era where men are moving into stereotypically feminine arenas. If we call if "bro-tox" it's not for women (though it's the same exact procedure). If I'm a "manny" or a "murse" I can retain my masculinity and earn a paycheck, which I couldn't do if I was a just nurse or a nanny. And some of it is borne out of our news media. In order to make things "newsworthy" and eye-catching, we have to dissect issues upon genderized (or racialized, or sexualized) lines because that's simple. And hey if we can come up with an all-encompassing terms that suits our needs even better.

I, for one, am rejecting the "bro-ing" of America. It's played, it's reductive and it pushes us further into boxes. Let it go, bro.

Making Moves: 31 by the 31st

 It's time for me to make some serious moves with my professional life. At work, I've become little more than a glorified baby-sitter who gets blamed when things aren't perfect (also known as: a convenient scapegoat). 

So here's my pre-New Year's resolution:* 

31 by the 31st. I'm going to try to apply to 31 jobs, fellowships, volunteer opportunities, basically any and everything that might possibly get me out of here by the end of the school year, hell maybe before then. I'm scheduling to take the GMAT and looking into business schools. And I want it done by the 31st. People may be predicting that 2012 is the year the world ends but if it does I will not still be at this job when it happens. 

When I think about my time at this job, I don't regret it. I definitely grown as a professional. I've learned to advocate for myself. I've learned to communicate with a variety of people and it's tested my patience, my professional abilities and most of all, my inner strength. I've had to go without, I've had to ask for help even when it was the last thing that I wanted to do. I've also really enjoyed a lot of the experiences I've had especially the students. Some of my current advisees I've known since they were in the 8th grade and next year they will be graduating and heading to college. But as much as this job has shown me what I enjoy and love it's also given me a lot of clarity around what I am unwilling to put up with. And that is invaluable. 

*I don't really like New Year's resolution's anyway so I'd rather get a jump on setting and achieving my goals

B.Y.O.C. (Bring Your Own Coffin)

Yesterday I saw the show Fela! for the second time. The first time was last Christmas before the Occupy Movement had started. Needless to say, seeing it in this context made the show even more powerful. What is Fela Kuti if not the voice of resistance? What is the Kalakuta Republic if not the occupation of space in defiance of an unjust government? But the portion of the performance that struck me most was the end called B.Y.O.C. (Bring Your Own Coffin). Fela asks: "Whose coffin are you willing to carry?". 

Recently, Occupy Oakland moved to 19th & Telegraph after a lengthy march through downtown and to the site of a school that is about to close due to budget cutbacks. Helicopters flew overhead as people peacefully moved through the streets and eventually wound it's way back to the Uptown district of downtown which is a spot of recent revitalization. The sentiment that I got from some residents was that they resented being encroached upon by the protesters. So I ask: "Whose coffin are you willing to carry?" 

So many of the arguments that I've heard from people (mostly teachers since that's who I'm around) reluctant to join this movement is that there's no "cohesiveness", it doesn't "make sense". How surprised (and delighted) was I to hear this line in the show last night, "You know what makes a bad teacher? Someone who's always trying to make sense of everything". Is it all about making sense of everything? The people who are camping out feel like their backs are up against the wall. Personally, I don't want to wait until my back is physically up against a wall to take to the streets. So I ask: "Whose coffin are you willing to carry?" 

A friend of mine recently stated that "(W)hen the people overcome, and we will, everyone will benefit, whether you were there or not ... We're not rallying, marching, meeting for the people there...it's for us all." I'm not perfect. I'm not sleeping out on the ground. I'm still watching my television and going out to dinner but I've been thinking more strategically about where my money is going. I'm reading about what's happening and supporting where I can. And yes occasionally having a laugh about the situation. I believe a successful movement has strong conviction but it also has laughter and lots of music! So I ask: "Whose coffin are you willing to carry?" 

When I ask that question, I'm asking what burden are you willing to carry? What discomfort are you willing to deal with? What hard decisions are you willing to make? Eventually, you will be able to lay that coffin down at the feet of the people who it belongs to but now it's yours to carry. If you are willing. 


Kere Kay! 

2 Broke Girls, 1 Ambiguously Offensive Show

Usually I spend the beginning of the television season writing about all the shows I'm excited to see both returning and new. This season there was definitely lots to be excited for but given my already full television schedule, I was hesitant to commit to any particular show before viewing it.

The first night that How I Met Your Mother returned 2 Broke Girls came on as well and I just kind of rolled into it. The conceit of the show is pretty simple: Max, played by Kat Dennings is a working class waitress with a talent for making delicious cupcakes. Caroline, a rich Upper East Sider is forced to work in Max's Williamsburg dive diner after her money is seized by the IRS due to her father's Ponzi scheme falling apart and the two of them are saving to open their own cupcake shop. Easy, peasy. I was immediately drawn to Dennings' ballsy irreverence. And surprisingly, Beth Behrs' Caroline is pretty charming.

Broke Girls has been criticized for it's less than flattering portrayal of the Brooklyn hipsters but what I find more disturbing is the show's subtle insinuation that anyone who isn't a White, American and "normal" is lesser or wrong. It's hard because while I'm cheering on Denning's portrayal of this working class woman and Behrs' compelling rich-girl comeuppance and redemption, I'm also struck by the stock side characters and what they represent in the overall schema of the show.

Come Take a Walk With Me

Long overdue, I know but I wanted to continue my Montreal fangirl crush.

What I loved most about Montreal was that it's a city that accessible. You can walk, take the Metro, the bus or ride a bike.