The Love Project #14

*Note: I am failing at completing this project but that's good for me to know. Learn and grow. 

#14: Loving Love

I love love

I like the rush of discovery

The slow, methodical process of getting to know something new

I like the excitement of infatuation

The burn of desire

Holding love in my hands and heart

Throwing my head back with pure joy

The tingle of anticipation. 

I LOVE love

But I don't know if I've ever been in love

If I've ever fallen completely

Losing myself

But gaining something bigger

That's what I imagine it is

To truly love someone else

I l-o-v-e love

A long walk into endless conversation

A slow fall into a soft bed

Or someone's arms

Whispered voices under soft sheets

Warm limbs and lips

That is as close as I get to heaven

I love love

More than it loves me

The Love Project #3: For the Love of Sleep

#3: For the Love of Sleep

I do it for the love of sleep
I run myself aground for the promise
Of eight unbroken hours
In my sanctuary
My bed

I sleep cocooned in the comforter
Of knowledge of days off and late sleep
I wake reluctant to rise
And quick to fall again into oblivion

I spent too many years forcing my eyes open
For tests and quizzes and facts
I can barely remember
Now nothing stands in the way of my sleep

I grind for myself
And rest when I must
Because I've earned the right
To show my love with contented snores
And no one can stop me

The Love Project #2: A Love Letter to Ava

*I'm  already behind a day because I keep overbooking myself on my days off but ho-hum not going to stop the train because of a hiccup. 

#2: A Love Letter to Ava

How do you do it? 

How do you capture us
In all our hues and shades
Coloring us in so we are full

Sometimes it feels like our story
Is one long length of hardship
Re shaping itself into teardrops
But you shift that tide
Until we are riding waves of joy

When I look at your art
I see my great-great-grandfather
Born to slaves cum sharecroppers
Who sat with me and marveled at how I could read
At only 4
His face etched with lines like Cager Lee
Who couldn't vote until he was 84

I followed Maye as she waded through
The detritus of a loved one's life
And felt beaten down my own choices and
Fears writ large back at me
Staring into a picture of yourself
Scarily accurate and challenging
And not flinching
Thank you for that reflection

Adrift in the middle of nowhere
But buoyed by quiet moments
Bus rides across well-worn miles
Your art is the blessing of knowing you're not alone

Sometimes it is frustrating
Feeling as if nothing changes
The same images recycling us
Like we have no nuance or distinction
Running on the hamster wheel
A never ending winter of our discontent

Your art feels like spring buds
Reaching for sun rays on a cold day
A newness that puts our lives onscreen
In full technicolor and HD
Nothing is dimmed, dulled, or daunting
You show me the unwavering wholeness of myself
And I cannot turn away

The Love Project

*Writer's Note: Full disclosure, I love this month. Generally, I always enjoy February. You've got Black History, unlimited chocolates, and I can wear red lipstick every day; but this year February feels even more special. Look at that month. All the days perfectly aligned and full. There's even a Friday the 13th in there for good measure. And because I'm so enamoured with this particular month, I'll be writing one "love" poem a day. Now L-O-V-E can mean lots of different things so I'll be exploring all of it. In honor of the Superbowl (and my Patriots being in it) my first poem is going to be about patriotism. 

Time Stands Still

 There’s a scene in the documentary Time is Illmatic where the frame is filled with photos taken for the cover of Nas’ seminal album Illmatic. They are snapshots of an era. Queensbridge. New York. 1994. In many ways, those scenes will never be captured again but they also haven’t changed. Set against the backdrop of this groundbreaking album, these first time filmmakers, One9 and Erik Parker, take the viewer on a trip from the Great Migration, through redlining, to the beginnings of hip hop and the takeover of crack to show the audience how Nasir Jones made an album that would become a defining experience for many.

On Spanking, Pathologizing White Violence and Using Common Sense

In the wake of the Adrian Peterson child abuse case, the Twitteratti and the Facebook "politicians" have begun an extensive debate around the idea of what's just a "whooping" and what exactly is child abuse. As a Black American, the idea of a whooping does not shock nor horrify me. I was on the receiving end of a few in my youth and I remember the horrified looks on my White classmates faces when my Black friends and I would sit around the cafeteria table and wax nostalgic about the beatings we'd received as children. Back then, my White classmates would exclaim about these acts and how wrong they were and at the time I didn't have the courage or the understanding to tell them the truth: everything Blacks in America learned about discipline, we learned from White people.

On Robin Thicke, White Male Privilege and the Black Female Body

In 12 Years a Slave  there's a scene where Michael Fassbender's Master Epps corners Lupita Nyong'o's Patsey and desperately whispers and moans his desire for her as he slowly rapes her. The scene is unflinching and Steve McQueen shows us every moment of Patsey's torture and Epp's mental instability. He's caught between a heinous desire and shame for wanting this woman whom he ultimately views as a work-horse. By the time Patsey begs Solomon to take her life, we are there with her. Anything to get her away from this man.

About a week ago, Robin Thicke released his music video for the single "Get Her Back" off his new album Paula. The album is a seeming ode to his estranged wife Paula Patton whom he separated with in February. In the video, Thicke presents himself as a battered man, broken by his love for this woman. He is desperate, he is in love, he is baring his soul (and their private messages), why won't she love him back?

Much has been written about the abuser dynamics and the public shaming Thicke is attempting with this album but what of the issues of privilege and power being played out here?

Thicke has built most of his career on emulating the sound and style of Black musicians, even going as far as to allegedly steal from the legendary Marvin Gaye without giving him credit. Thicke has engaged in a level of privilege that so many White artists have. He has the ability to take the parts of Black culture that suit him and profit off of them while discarding the rest. Furthermore, that privilege was bolstered by his Black wife. She gave him the "street cred" to push the boundaries of Black culture to its excesses. Patton and her assets have been heavily featured in his music videos adding to his cachet for snagging one of the "baddest" Black women in the entertainment industry. Therefore, Paula (and Paula) becomes a lamentation not only about lost love but lost power. And Thicke has been aggressively seeking to gain that power back. The video, his numerous pleas onstage and on the radio for her forgiveness, all of these have been met with silence by Patton yet he continues to push her to forgive through public acts of shaming. These actions show a lack of respect for her as a person and the public nature of them alludes to Thicke's sense of entitlement. He can air their personal business for the world because he is the aggrieved party. He can pick apart their lives publicly because as a White man he is entitled to feel his feelings without fear or shame. Patton is not awarded the same leeway. 

And our society is complicit in this entitlement. Just today Robin Thicke went on Hot97 to talk about Paula and Paula (the album and this relationship are inextricably linked so expect it to come up for the next 6 months to a year while he promotes and tours with this music) and his "woe is me tale" was met with this reaction from The Source online: 

"Poor Robin do you think Paula should take him back?  It’s pretty evident that he is sincerely sorry. The two have known each other since high school."

What is our measure of "sincerely sorry"? Does his apology trump her feelings? Historically, yes. At the very least, we know that his need to "make something artistic out of a very difficult time" trumps her personal privacy.

So in his desperation to get his wife back, Thicke continues to make his career off of her. This time using their personal life as fodder for his watered down R&B music. If he can't have her physically, the remnants of their relationship will be the fuel for his next round of hits. And he will continue to reap the benefits of her body. As Thicke said in his video when it comes to Paula, "this is only the beginning."

*Note: At the time of writing this, Thicke had not yet released the second video of the album "Still, Madly, Crazy" which is equally disturbing. 

Lupita is EVERYTHING, But Lupita Can't Be Everything

I am a Lupita Nyong'o fangirl. Ever since awards season began and Lupita Nyong'o began gracing our screens every week, slaying us with amazing outfits, witty repartee with droll red carpet interviewers and sweetly sincere acceptance speeches, I was hooked. That is the power of a well rolled out Oscar campaign and a genuine superstar in the making. My official hashtag became #LupitaisEVERYTHING and each awards show she lived up to and exceeded that moniker, culminating in her Oscar win on March 4th. 

Since then there's been a flurry of articles about her importance to young women of color as a dark-skinned woman, her role in progressing black actresses and what she will do next. The #LupitaforMAC hashtag was trending on Twitter as women of color rallied support around having her as a spokesmodel. Chimanada Ngozi Adiche has hinted that she will be starring in a adaptation of her book Americanah. And there's rumors she will play a role in Star Wars Episode 7 which is in development at Disney. Personally, I prioritize her being in films rather than as campaigns but either way the clamor for Lupita is both awesome and disturbing. 

Although I want Lupita to play everything from a super spy to an alien to the lead girl in a romcom, Hollywood (and our society at large) has a tendency to elevate one person of color and dust off their shoulders and pat themselves on the back for a job well done. For example, during the kerfuffle over the casting of Rooney Mara as Tiger Lily in the upcoming Peter Pan adaptation, the producers shot back at detractors that they had considered Lupita for the role. This statement was supposed to end the argument. We looked at a bunch of white women and Lupita so we engaged in diversity. First off, Lupita is not a Native woman so deigning to consider any woman of color is not an appeasement and secondly, I worry that statements like this will become a trend. Rather than opening doors for Black actresses, Lupita's success could close off avenues because of how Hollywood operates. They've found their Black It Girl and if she's unavailable or "not right" for the role, execs can shrug their shoulders and say "We tried you guys! We talked to Lupita!" So while I'm about that All Lupita Everything life, I urge everyone to remember all the other exemplary Black actresses out there and push their careers forward as well. Go and take a look at pictures and clips from the ESSENCE Black women in entertainment luncheon. Yes Lupita was there (and she spoke wonderfully about skin color and representation) but there was also Danielle Brooks, Samira Wiley and Nicole Beharie. The former two are on Orange is the New Black and the latter is the lead on Sleepy Hollow, all are Juilliard educated. There's also Teyonah Parris and Tessa Thompson who are starring in the Sundance hit Dear White People. Let's stan hard for all these women. Because Lupita can't be everywhere at once. And we have to push Hollywood to understand that one doesn't represent all. 

Habla Ifa, On NonViolence: Avonte Oquendo and Oshun's East River Speak - Part IV

*originally posted by Jadele McPherson, a writer, performer and activist whom I'm proud to call my sister. Reposted with permission and slight edits by myself

Part IV: Oquendo in Da River Lord: Oshun, Mori Yeye O, Medicine, Mirror and Healer

Oshun is sweet yet she is terrifying, the rivers waters are often murky and hide exotic creatures altered by human toxic wastes and other mutations our collective lifestyles cause, poisoning the very natural entities that sustain us. Like grandma used to say "So smart to be so stupid". I cry for Avonte Oquendo today and the countless others who have been washed away limb by limb, piece by piece unaccounted for, and I praise and lift up his family in this time for not allowing him to go unnoticed. I hope we can stand to look at this broken mirror of our education system to be accountable in letting our institutions deteriorate to this level. 

Most of all I hope the swiftness of her waves do not stop us in dreaming of a better world, of a better place for those we are creating when we go away from this crazy violent mess of America. I hope we do not curl in our comfort of suburban homes and well off communities that are "safe" and find the ways to exist in multiple spaces. As we gain access to the forbidden fruits that we keep close pace with the strife of the ghettos even for those who did not grow up there, it is okay to be middle class and grow up with the privileges still denied to so many black children - but to ignore one another because "I did the work," and "you did not" is just no longer acceptable.

How can we create alumni associations that do not mirror those of whites, only commemorating holidays and reunions; how do we create orgs that look like we do, though after we leave elite spaces for the professional world we are riddled with tests our white peers do not have to pass? Can we play Earth, Wind and Fire and James Brown at our college reunions to stir our most creative talents that required us to be better than all the whites that we had to pretend we were equal with in those walls of elistist education some 50+ years after Brown v. Board of Ed? How do we agitate to promote the legacy of non-violence in a world of stop and frisk, Trayvon Martin and Avonte Oquendo? A world in where if you are young and black your life is shot down at 19 or run down to the river in fear and terror when you supposed to be taking notes from a Smartboard. How do we clear the chaos with enough anger to fuel us to bind together, but not too much that it consumes us and drives us crazy? How do we love one another unconditionally to the point where it changes our lives and our lifestyles, where others children are our children and white children do hold the hands of black children, where all of Gods children are bound by Let Freedom Ring to continue drowning out the racists of Alabama and Mississippi Godd@!% How do we remix that message with the innovation we've carried from rumba to hip-hop to dare to care enough for one another that we don't care if we lose $250 of pay because we are worth more? Yes. I have more than a dream.

Ay Sea Santisimo, I have a vision, a divine glimpse of an exercise room and no fences around my school's courtyard, with courses on the connections between West African to Hip-Hop Dance and Afro-Latino history is taught trilingually with all students passing their classes. Where not just white Waldorf children are greeted with a "Hi, welcome today Johnny" but where instead of metal detectors, hot cafe con leche y pastelitos de guyaba y queso are warm and ready for my 2nd and 3rd period class as students barge through the doors practically breaking them down to learn, to seek truth, to seek faith to love we educators as much as they love their own beautiful golden brown to milk chocolate and black pearl complexions. A dream of telling the history of our peoples survival, where every hand shoots up when I ask "How long did the Transatlantic Slave Trade last?" and "What was the last country that abolished slavery?" And we eat lunch in our solar powered, organic food growing, rooftop garden and grocery store, where all owners are black folks and Dominican folks and Boricua, Nigerian, Panamanian, Honduran babies, beautiful children of light, well nourished and listos pa la batalla, understanding how we are one despite our nuances and differences, I have a vision that I know will not fail me, it did not fail my bis bis abuela when I walked through the gates of many buildings that I was never supposed to step foot in from Harvard to Broadway theaters, and yet here I am, well fed and a little overweight, bright and brilliant in love and truth, machete en la mano just like the maroons who birthed me. 

I am the Dream, and I dare you to try and prove me wrong, my truth sings free 200 years from now and I know how to swoop down and see it all in pure spirit from the secrets running through this blood while the rest of y'all stuck in boxes 6 feet under. Can't nobody oppress me enough to own my spirit and so for freedom I'm patient, yeah, patiently I'll wait. And I thank my students for being the ones to break this news to me, you all give me so much hope.

Y.E.A.H. (Young, Educated, {of} African Heritage)

For Avonte and our youth, in love and solidarity

Jadele.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 

Thank you to my sister Jadele for allowing me to repost her words. It's a strong testament both to Avonte's life and to our spirit as a community of African heritage. Ashe. 

Habla Ifa, On NonViolence: Avonte Oquendo and Oshun's East River Speak - Part III

*originally posted by Jadele McPherson, a writer, performer and activist whom I'm proud to call my sister. Reposted with permission and slight edits by myself

Part III: The Rotten Apple of Elitism: A Divided America

Accountability. Genuine, means we can start with ourselves first, then them later. We know they ain't gonna report what happened,  they aint gonna tell the truth, they don't give a godd*&m, but when we start to do the same, we in trouble. Those of us fighting the good fight that is, pro-humanity. We come in all shapes and sizes, all professions, all backgrounds all ways of life, and we do exist. We ain't dead yet. So as Eyiboge tells us "Mientras hay vidas, hay esperanza" (Nope, I aint translatin', google it you overeducated fools that I care deeply about).

Just as in Trayvon's case, every person of color is Avonte Oquendo. For those privileged enough, myself of course included, to have attended elite {read: white} institutions of higher education, we have more responsibility to those of us who did not make it, regardless of our profession, to every student of color in this nation. Despite our debt and our traumatic experiences, for which there is healing, if you have not stepped foot in a public school in a black and/or Latino neighborhood recently you are committing a grave crime, a grave error. We need all of you, your talents and your voices, your stories -- our children need your touch and your embraces, they need to know your name and how you survive through all of this craziness so that they too can hop in a dream. None of us are Yaled or Andover or Exetered or Nightengaled or Latin Schooled or Wesleyed or Williamsed or Oberlined or Smithed or Harvarded enough to escape this social service.

For every one of us who attended such places, 100 people from the 'hood could have gone in our places-- not all would have the community in place to actually graduate, but certainly the raw talent and intelligence. You see we, black and/or Latina/o people and progressive whites in Generation X or Y or Z, have bitten the poisoned apple of success and elitism. We are Social Darwinists and Capitalists to the core, vacationing in the Hamptons, drinking Scotch and relishing in our social circles of privilege without extending those opportunities even to others in our same graduation class. That's not my responsibility...is it? The vast majority of people of color graduate to uphold a dangerous system of tokenism in this country from law to politics, to President to Orchestras to media to education and the arts to finance. 

The rest of us who give a damn argue each other down without a care about this person's approach and this school of thought and this argument, don't tell me you practice holistic community in every step of your politics, radical folks. I have experienced our wrath and have been guilty by the same token. No idea is good enough for us, we circle ourselves in our ideas so much, we.forget.to.truly.act. And what's worst we chastise those who do not share our radical fire, isolating the multiplicity that is our community.

{Sidenote: And this modern day self-righteousness that I see among artists and "community activists" can be checked by action. Who outside of your fellow pillars of similar ideas have you affected, and what have you done? All the books in the world don't mean anything unless we can create action and community that has witnessed y/our continuous transformation and radical ideas put into projects, that work.} 

Well, we can't save everyone Jadele, we can't save the world. WHAT?! You mean to tell me the top 10% of black graduates of elite boarding schools and let's say top 100 colleges and universities in the nation, plus top graduating classes of HBCUs together, cannot radically transform our educational system in America, but sharecroppers could? We must have forgotten the blood shed for us to walk through those shiny black gates, or is it Sallie Mae who troubles us? We all have debt (well, some don't) and busy lives, we all have fears and dreams to work for every single day. No one is talking about what is impossible or unhealthy, we are talking about reality, what a summer volunteering at a public school for those of you who now make $100,000+ a year could do for a young person is as the commercial says = priceless. Speaking of advertising what about an effective media campaign about education equality for all my ad/marketing buffs, or is your dollar earned from the multi-million corporations you serve enough for you? Not enough time after work you say, give it 265 days of Happy Hours and see what you come up with? Jeez. I mean it comes down to time, focus and creativity with the resources at hand, our ancestors created more with much less, and now that we have the world at our fingertips, we're handicapped by brilliance and technology. Unreal.

How dare you leave us measly salaried PhD and artists with the burden of social change. Who exempted you from a life of service? See it is not just whites who perpetuate the myth of a post-racial society, it is a whole lot of us "people of color". We better get it right. Today's radical warriors are as diverse as King imagined them to be and we have to create that sophisticated multicultural, LGBTQ narrative while pursuing an apologetic black politic. Si, se puede.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 

Habla Ifa, On NonViolence: Avonte Oquendo and Oshun's East River Speak - Part II

*originally posted by Jadele McPherson, a writer, performer and activist whom I'm proud to call my sister. Reposted with permission and slight edits by myself

Part II: Oct.4th Orunmila's Day: Oquendo's Run 

Chills ran through me as I saw the footage, sure lil' Avonte was autistic, but those of us who work at the pulse of education and social justice, those of us who work with young people know that run, especially we of African descent. Ohh-keen-dooo, a young Latino brother, a young black man taking flight. Oquendo is the embodiment of our Latino and Afro-Latino, African-American crossroads in America. Running from dogs, running from the po-lice, running for freedom, running, running, can't stop, running away, can't keep running awayyyyyyy.

We don't have to be there, we don't need the exact details we watch the same story over and over on the news and in our lives. Inside every black and Latino person in America, those conscious Southeast Asian sisters and brothers sometimes "mistaken" for "us" black folks, multi-generation Middle Eastern, and other communities of color that now know y'all ain't gonna have the luck of the Irish or Italians to "assimilate" into whiteness in a generation or two (although you try, real hard), except for some of you (we come back to that when dealing w/ elitism among POCs and our increasing lack of responsibility to one another) --ALL of us awake here in Amerikkka have that meter of historical embodied fright. That brother was running for his LIFE.

October 4th is a high holiday for practitioners of regla ocha, it is the day for recognizing priests of Ifa, our most comprehensive divination system which warns us about national disasters to illnesses. It guides us through life's most treasured and tragic moments. That Oquendo ran to the river, we will never truly know, but we do know Ifa and Oshun's magical pact. It is said these divine energies ward away death and the negativity of the most potent kind. What set Oquendo to move with a quickness could have been anything from sharp words from a tired administrator to a shocking noise. What we do know, is that students are not safe in our schools. Those of us who work daily in our public schools know in our core that 99% of those students are not physically or mentally safe.

To think about non-violence just a week after a student bought a gun to one of the school's I work in affirmed my life's work and dedication to youth, as exhausting as it truly is. I asked my students to ponder Dr. King's non-violence legacy today and was met with "Yeah Miss that ain't possible." Expecting this, since I've been in this game for a minute from the Chi to the South Bronx, we checkered our way through possible actions we could take against the DOE to transform our entire school into one that mirrors the safe space we have been building with one another. One that elevates us for our class period out of the building, with everything from hip-hop to son bearing our backdrops to the street pedagogy we infuse into our lessons. Our classes are always about life and death, not just to catch up in credits and graduation rates but to mirror the reality that my young people confront daily. And they are sad, depressed, drained, lethargic, sick, hopeless and apathetic from existing in a system that hates them and tells them through its disorganization everyday that they are not worthy of a decent education.

It is this institution that infuriates me the most in America, the audacity of a system to so blatantly privilege some over others, after our social justice organizing for integration in the 1950s, this is what we are met with. And some want to reach back the hands of time, but brothers and sisters that is not possible, we never have to despair so much that we idealize legalized segregation enforced by the daily terror against blacks that has always been America. We can dare to dream of a multicultural school system that provides great education AND pays school administrators and teachers more than a lawyer. We can dream in what seems impossible, and not put all of our stock in Andovers and Browns because as my father rose up in Kemper Auditorium at Phillips Andover to say to a fundraising panel in 2009 "We ... were brought here ... in chains". 

King and the Little Rock 9 and all of our peoples them who attended public schools in America give us the right to dream this dream.

We must not feel pressured by the false promise of success. For every dollar we continue giving to multi-million endowments, we drive Avonte Oquendo through the doors of a school that does not want him or any of us there. We drive us into the drowning of the river, where peace and silence comfort our soul in death after the panic.

Because we no longer know who is caring for our children and we live in a nation where most national tragedies involve youth and/or our schools, across race and class (as we are seeing more and more from Virginia Tech to Newtown) it lets us know violence against our youth is no longer just a "black folks problem" due to the "unfortunate" realities of the "inner-city". Todays schools keep attesting to the SICKNESS that is America that we allow to penetrate our crumbling institutions falling under the excuse that there's always evil in the world. It's really simple where we can start to effect change before politics and policies, we must look within.

We have become too preoccupied with busy work to stop to care for one another, there's no time to give a stranger a hug much less a loved one; we schedule everything to keep in time with the beast and our human sentiment which requires no words to tell when another is hurting is becoming duller and more sterile. Because education issues in "underprivileged communities" are for THOSE people to deal with and are not my worry because they don't have anything to do with MY field/life/reality. Ha. The myth of the individual strikes again.

No matter how conscious, all of us living in America are guilty of the above, we ain't saints and don't need to be, but doing the wrong thing is just too contagious. And I think to focus all on the ills of system and oppressive forces is sometimes misleading in that it becomes just as draining as fighting them, because we despair easily and create theories about how we can react to their wrongdoings. This enables us to continually erase our full power over ourselves and our communities no matter how skewed the fight, we can never lose, the power is always in we, the people. But you can't get there focusing on no we, them, us, they, can't, too powerful, ya dig. 

We's done forgotten how to get back to da' WE. Ya heard?! 2014, {Es}'cuchen bien.

I fear I may have integrated my people into a burning house - Martin Luther King, Jr. 

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 

Habla Ifa, On NonViolence: Avonte Oquendo and Oshun's East River Speak - Part I

*originally posted by Jadele McPherson, a writer, performer and activist whom I'm proud to call my sister. Reposted with permission and slight edits by myself

Part I: Moyuba. Invocation.

Chills come over me when I hear the news. They are pulling him out of the river, limb by limb. Indeed, it is Avonte Oquendo. Ibae bayen tonu. Despair and grief never rocked my 20 to 30 something peers so much, in the thralls of beginning our own families and burying relatives young in their cause and others whose transitions leave us in awe of their breadth of work. Eyiogbe a divination sign in Ifa/regla ocha (aka Santería) "speaks" of elders and people of great position transitioning to pure spirit; we lived this energy in the year 2011 as well, though this year the sign comes to us with Olokun and Yemaya as the reigning "deities" or orishas of the year. This sign of the year is divined by Ifa priests in Cuba and the U.S. and gives warnings, precautions and advice for initiates and followers of Regla de Ocha to observe throughout the year. 

Olokun Yemaya representing the oceans down into their depths a metaphor for searching for understanding in the mysteries etched into this planet.

This news, of finally finding Avonte Oquendo's fate today 1/21/14, the young 14 year old who went missing from his school on October 4th 2013, whose remains began to surface yesterday after a young photographer saw a left arm bubble to the top of New York's East River waters-- like many other tragedies are difficult for many to understand, and like many times I've written to share a Lukumi lens which helps us to open possibilities that are hard to read upon our eye's first glance. The Earth and God always speak to us through mystery and in life we know we are not here to make sense of everything we experience. From atheism to "mono"theism to indigenous practices we find reasoning, yet as science and intellectual rigor drive our fast paced technological world we are becoming societies no one's God will want to claim.

To receive the news after nationally honoring Martin Luther King's legacy seems no small coincidence to me as we collectively ponder the legacy of non-violence and social movements, many have asked "How far have we come?" "Does non-violence play a role in our lives today?" These questions are there yes, but ones I don't spend much time racking my head with. We are after all living legacies, blood relatives of those who created those changes and by nature's accord represent legacy and progress in our mere existence.

Today we segregate ourselves, by great luxury and privilege granted by the Civil Rights and Black Power Movements that empower all people of color, by those who engage in social justice work and those who do not. And I have felt this is silly for much of my 20s when long after graduation fellow classmates of color took paths in finance or law or business or "unrelated fields" to the academic and artistic paths that have become synonymous with activist work. As if. There is a choice now, while no other black generation had a choice, sure how radical or what your politics were were choices, but that things must change not for a few of us, was simply put on the table. How quickly things change.

Just like in college, now most radical commentary and discourse seems to focus on calling out instances of white supremacy and of the establishment oppressing those of African descent and the institutional mess that is America. We focus too much on oppressors today. We give them so much energy it consumes the best of us and we do not study our indigenous incantations or herbal remedies that can refuel an entire village if performed correctly. Those engaged with regla ocha and African religious practices are incredibly segregated and many of us waste our rituals and secrets battling online about ritual protocol and bashing each others reputations. Those actually engaged in social justice work have somehow become a minority in our community, and yet others who work to dismantle institutional "-isms" that negatively affect communities of color are then too tired to throw a tambor and simply don't have enough time to help every person who may have read their book or know who they are. 

The reality is that we are drained and we are too few. Many warriors and thinkers of the previous generations are going home, so sick and tired, but not without hope and their magic they've left to incite us all, while others of us fill our bodies with toxic foods and air, when to think about food justice and exercise just seems like another "task" rather than a practical, holistic approach to life. I, myself, often wonder, 'how in the hell will I have time for myself in such a world, how will I find balance in a system that perpetuates exhaustion in us all?' Running a theater arts collective, writing, producing community projects and developing as a healer and artist take up most of my spare time but nonetheless I often get texts from loved friends letting me know I am selfish or from those seeking spiritual help in regla de ocha frustrated at my rescheduling or others upset because I have missed their shows. It ain't easy being a 2014 professional-daughter-lover-friend-healer-revolutionary-artist-black-woman. Ay Dios amparame.

Time and time again I have had to say Maferefun Eggun, Maferefun Obatalá. Prayer is strong but if it were not for the secrets of our indigenous Yoruba knowledge fostered through this Afro-Cuban system of healing, I would either be brainwashed or so sick and bitter I can't even ponder that path. Then I have the nerve to be an akpon, a ritual singer who's job is to clean others bullcrap with my voice and incantations, such a beautiful path yet met with resistance at every turn. I have handled the adversity with grace by the light of the lives of my ancestors, they are stronger than most living people I encounter, and for that I am very grateful. After all, I've made my choice. Holistic spiritual self is the only armor I can fathom for this life, and while money comes and goes and I don't have a single career path, I forge magical in-between spaces. Ahi na' ma.

But how can we move through the grey together? How do we provide holistic living to our people in such demanding times and how do we keep motivating one another to carry the torch to create a more just society as each previous generation has done whole-heartledly and selflessly? Si se puede.

We need classes in basic spiritual baths free of charge, and organic produce in our schools and work places, we need live music on our lunch breaks and rooftop garden breaks to disrupt 12-14 hour days. We need 6 weeks of vacation minimum per year, and free quality university education, we need free health and exercise clinics alongside rehab and detox ones in the 'hood; we need poetry, dance, song and required racial equality courses at every level of our educational and professional lives - and yoga and reiki for our bodies and spirits, and of course being the Afrodescendants we are, a good tambor on the weekends to lift us in our purpose.

And we need our schools to stop being graveyards and pre-incarceration training grounds.

Part II will be posted Monday at 10 a.m. PST

Hipst(H)er

After seeing Her, I'm really impressed by Spike Jonze's ability to craft a screenplay. By the end of the film the idea of Joaquin Phoenix's Theodore falling in love with his operating system, Samantha (played by Scarlett Johannssen who is phenomenal in this vocal role) doesn't seem too far-fetched. In fact, Jonze's near future seems like the next step in our technological future. What was disturbing about the near future (besides the incredibly high crotch pants that all the men were sporting) was the complete lack of people of color in Spike Jonze's universe. And I wasn't the only one to notice.

Other than one close up on a Black breakdancer, there were virtually no people of color in this universe. Chris Pratt's character dates an Asian woman. She was the only PoC with lines. Everyone else was near invisible. At one point during a child's birthday party scene, there were some children of color running around the lawn but there were no adults of color to go with them. So I guess in Spike Jonze's future, people of color are breeding children for white couples to raise.

I'm sure the screenplay didn't read: "Ext. DAY: Theodore walks down street full of white people." but considering that Jonze also directed the film, I find it curious that a sea of white people in "future" downtown L.A. didn't look a bit off to him. Overall, the film accurately captures, the ups and downs of a relationship. The honeymoon phase, the growing together and the growing apart but if our near future is devoid of color, I think we have a lot more to worry about than falling in love with our computers.

3 Reasons We Should've Known How the Golden Globes Were Going to Go Down

Despite years of evidence to the contrary, people of color went into this year's Golden Globes with excitement and hopeful hearts. This is the year of Black film after all, with movies like 12 Years A Slave receiving critical accolades and even The Best Man Holiday managed to come in second only to Thor 2 in theaters even with its "race themes". So imagine the collective outrage when we watched stellar performances by Lupita Nyong'o and Chiwetel Ejiofor go unrecognized. Or watching in dismay as Steve McQueen was overlooked for his direction and John Ridley for his writing. It was disheartening but luckily folks did not walk away with heavy hearts and the media has been forced to take note of the lack of diversity in both the films and the Hollywood Foreign Press. Still hindsight is 20/20 and there were signs about how this was going to go down:

1.  The best television nominees: Both Andy Samberg and Taylor Schilling were nominated for Golden Globes for their roles on Brooklyn Nine Nine and Orange is the New Black, respectively. This was a big deal as Brooklyn Nine Nine is a relatively new and unknown show and Orange is a Netflix original so it does not have a major network backing it. Furthermore, both shows feature ethnically diverse casts. So that was our first sign. Despite the fact that both shows have received praise for their largely PoC casts, none of those actors were nominated for supporting actor Golden Globes. Arguably, Orange's most memorable characters are Uzo Aduba's Crazy Eyes and Laverne Cox (a trans woman of color) as Sophia Burset. Yet only Schilling was nominated. Even creator Jenji Kohan has been outspoken about wanting Orange is the New Black to be about the Black and Latina women of the prison but knowing that the show would not sell to the industry without a White lead. 

2. Chiwetel & Idris being nominated: I was elated (elated!) to see that both Idris Elba and Chiwetel Ejiofor were both nominated for best actor in the film and television category. Having seen Mandela! and 12 Years A Slave as well as the actors' turns in Luther and Dancing on the Edge, I thought, "Yes! The Hollywood Foreign Press gets it." I figured Chiwetel would win for film and Idris for television because who could deny Idris' morally ambiguous John Luther (the HFPA and Emmys ate it up for years with Hugh Laurie as House) and Chiwetel was a revelation as Solomon Northup. All tied up, easy peasy. But of course they were never going to win. Either their performances would split the vote or they were thrown up there as symbols, either way it was a bone we too easily reached for. 

3. The Hollywood Foreign Press Association: The past year has been marked by some injection of diversity into the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences so people have been looking to this year's Oscars and the Golden Globes to show those changes in both the selection and the recipients of these awards. But the HFPA is a much smaller pool. It's comprised of about 90 members and although a bit more diverse in its ranks, it's members are still largely from Europe and also male. Unlike American Hustle, there was nothing sexy about 12 Years' sex scene where Michael Fassbender rapes Lupita Nyong'o in a scene that feels never-ending. And there's something truly groundbreaking about Steve McQueen's decision as a director to never turn away from that brutality. 

At the end of the day, no one is saying that Golden Globes or Oscars or any awards should be given to people of color because they are minorities or because of some perverse affirmative action. What we are saying is that it is 2014 and the gatekeepers are still White and male. The oppurtunities go to those who are mainly White and/or male. And as Rowan Pope said this season on Scandal, we still have to work twice as hard to get half of what actors get. I know acting is subjective. I was moved by Michael B. Jordan's portrayal of Oscar Grant and Naomie Harris' Winnie Mandela as well as Adele Exarchopoulos in Blue is the Warmest Color and none of those actors were even nominated but it's more likely that Adele or Jennifer Lawrence will be at the Golden Globes next year (whether they are nominated or not) because they are what we think of when we think of Hollywood, beautiful, White starlets. And despite an audience that is clamoring for diversity and big numbers for television shows and films that are providing that, at the end of the day the industry is still lagging behind. As Alfre Woodard said, 

You know when we'll know things have changed? You know that brilliant, stunningly beautiful and poised Lupita Nyong'o? 12 Years A Slave is an incredible launch to a career. And this is her first thing. We will see if [as opposed to] another brilliant actress Jennifer Lawrence, we'll see the trajectory of [Lupita's] career path and what she's offered after that. Then we'll know whether things have changed or if Lupita is consigned to playing a second banana ensemble person for the next ten years. 

So far Alfre's words seem like an omen. The ball's in your court Hollywood. 

The Lost Demographic: What My Black Mom is Watching on TV

When I entered the kitchen this morning, my mom was watching a rerun of Family Matters ... I know. Family Matters y'all. While I look on shows like this it's with nostalgia and a bit of wistfulness to my mom this is regular television viewing. 

Now this part is for the TV execs, so listen up. I know my mom isn't part of your hallowed 18–49 demographic but somehow CBS is always number one despite the fact that is mainly watched by the 60+ set so maybe it's time to think outside of the box since my contemporaries are running away from traditional television. And when it comes to older women of color like my mother, you've really dropped the ball. If I grew up in the so-called "Golden era" of Black television when shows like Family Matters, Cosby Show and The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air ruled their airwaves, that was all my mother knew. She knew Good Times and Julia and Sanford and Son and that only got better as the 80s and 90s went on. The late 90s and early 2000s saw a dramatic shift in media representation of people of color and the loss of networks like UPN and the WB which focused largely on Black sitcoms. And my mom and older women of color like her, never went back. Outside of her "stories" or soap operas (which are also being phased out), my mother actively watches reruns of Black television shows. Recently, she's started watching Scandal, though it took me over a year to get her to watch an episode because she initially wrote it off as being another "white people show" despite the fact that it is produced by and stars a Black woman. And I don't blame her initial reaction. 

The truth is over the past 10-15 years, Black people have been relegated to the sidelines of television. We are the sidekicks, the best friends, the diversity hires. No wonder everyone gasps in astonishment when shows like The Game premiere on BET to record breaking numbers or when "race themed" movies like The Best Man Holiday top at the box office. Executives have forgotten how shows like The Cosby Show were once the cornerstone of network television but people like my mom haven't forgotten and they'd rather watch reruns than take in media that doesn't represent them. Recently, things have started to shift slowly back. We are seeing people of color heading up casts and their characters being treated like actual human beings rather than props for the white characters to emote around. But will we ever get back to a place where an all-Black family on television isn't seen as just a show for Black people? Will we get back to a place where my mother sees herself reflected on television and others can see the universal humanity in a Black family? 

Karma

Today on my way to work, I saw a blonde haired, blue-eyed woman standing legs parted, hands behind her back and bag strewn on the ground as she was being arrested by three police officers. And I walked by, I smiled. 

Now, I completely own that my reaction was sick. No one should get joy from watching as someone is arrested. The way police officers demean and make of spectacle of arresting someone makes a pit rise in my throat. But I also can't act like seeing this moment didn't make me a little happy. And that's a real problem. 

I would say around once a month, I see black young men subjected to the same acts of degradation. Young black and brown men, sitting handcuffed along walls as cops lean over them menacingly. Every day as I walk to work I pass by numerous homeless people, the majority of whom are people of color, and watch as the Twitter techies, businessmen and yes, even I sidestep them on our way to our offices after getting our locally brewed coffees. So when I saw that girl being arrested, I smiled because I was happy that it wasn't one of us. It was one of them for once.

And to be honest, that's not justice. Having just as many White people in our corrupt penal system as there are Blacks or Latinos is not justice. It just means more people are being stripped of their basic human rights. Having just as many White people in our overcrowded, underfunded public schools wouldn't be justice either. I don't wish ills on people in order to make the ills of society seem equal. But I did smile. I had a moment of feeling like some sense of karma was being doled out by the universe and I admit it wasn't right. We can't always help how we feel in a particular moment and no matter how many White, blonde haired, blue-eyed girls are arrested, that won't change the fundamentals of our society. Real change like that might actually bring some real joy to my smile. 

The Plight of the First Generation Eldest Sibling*

*A/N: That title sounded bleaker than I meant it to but ...

Shout-out to all the firsts. 

The first to go to college, 

the first to get a job, 

the first to move out, 

the first to really succeed. 

The translators,

the navigators, 

the form filler out-ters. 

The ad-hoc financial aid counselors,

the conciliators, 

and conflict mediators. 

The big brothers and big sisters who are expected to come back

Who want to come back

Who can't come back

The ones to whom family is another full-time job

The ones who are raising kids they never birthed

But bathed

We were the first to leave and we're the first to return

We feel the weight of success 

And bear the burden of not having done enough

While trying to do the most

Shout out to the oldest (not the wisest) 

Shout out to the middle kids for whom this is true

And shout out to the only-ies, cause it's lonely

Shout out for the first but not the last

Sumptuous but Unsubtle

Tonight I had the oppurtunity to see a free screening of Anna Karenina starring Keira Knightley in the title role. It was definitely intriguing and at times spell-binding, but (as is my way) there were certain aspects of the film I just could not get past. Full disclosure: I have never read Tolstoy's novel (though now I am inclined to), so I have no knowledge of the source material. The only thing I knew going into this story was *spoiler* she throws herself on the train tracks in despair over her lover. So with that ahead are the things I loved and the things that made me go hmmmm ...

Media Reformation

In the article, How Luther Went Viral, The Economist shows us that what we today view as the grand experiment of social media is actually nothing new. In fact, Martin Luther's Reformation couldn't have happened without the social media mechanisms we currently take for granted (take a second to imagine Martin Luther and the Pope engaged in Twitter beef). But while we acknowledge how today's social media is just another link in the chain, we also have to take into account how the increased accessibility of today's social media makes it unique and also dangerous.

The Need to Justify

What is it that compels us to justify our choices in life? On the internet it can become a blackhole of back and forth but in real life, it seems to all boil down to some intrinsic need to prove our worth; to have other people understand our intent. But at it's core, it's impossible and most of all, it's tiring. After reading, Dodai's incredibly personal article, When Motherhood Never Happens, I scrolled through the comments and I realized that what was driving points on either side of the comments was the need to justify our life choices. 

Those that were for motherhood felt the need to explain why they had kids and let everyone know that "I still have fun!" and "My life hasn't ended!". At the other end of the spectrum were the cries of, "I can travel and drink and I'm happy!" and "At least I'm not overpopulating the planet!" You know who I respect? The people in the middle. The people who don't judge and don't justify. 

I'm going to turn 29 this summer. When I pictured my life, I always thought I'd have a family, a partner, and own my own home (typical, but true). But I never gave myself a time limit. I never set myself in a particular place. I just always thought that when I had acquired the resources to have those things (the right mindset, some accomplishments, financial stability) those things would materialize. I grew up having my mom drill into me that I wasn't supposed to get pregnant at a young age, I was supposed to finish college and get a well-paying job, I wasn't supposed to depend on a man and I followed that plan. Now as I head towards twenty-nine, my mom's story has changed drastically. "So when are you going to settle down?" is a question that comes up in our conversations. And you know what? I don't answer it. I'm not going to justify to anyone why I'm not living my life on their timetable or their terms or based on their morals. 

I recognize that there is a finite time period in order for me to have my own biological children but guess what? I can't force the pieces into place. And I don't want to. So we have to stop forcing everyone to prove their happiness. To justify their worth. Because that is what divides us. The minute you justify your childlessness by downing motherhood, you've lost the argument. And when you equate your worth to your choice to pop out a kid, you've put someone else on the defense (or honestly in the case of women who can't conceive potentially called someone else worthless because of something they can't help). So stop, just stop. Do you, be you, and justify it to no one.