On Living While Black in America...

My older sister, Deborah, was much more enlightened than I much earlier in life. She celebrated Black history and got Mr. McNeil, a Black teacher doing his best to enlighten White students while making Black students proud of ourselves and our history as he taught Black history to all students in a predominantly white school. My Sister got "it" before the rest of us did. Sorry Mr. McNeil, I wish I had listened more attentively but I heard you later, loud and clear! Your efforts were not in vain. Your voice mattered...

My sister rejected the notion of gifting for Christmas and instead came home from college talking about this thing called Kwanzaa. She wore daishikis, cornrowed more afros for 50 cents than I can count, participated in protests and knew what apartheid was long before others her age knew or cared about South Africa or even knew Nelson Mandela's name. She was really into Black pride and knowing our history...

There were five children in my family. In time we all became as progressive and informed as Debbie (she hates when I call her that but that). Over time, we converted, or shall I say influenced, our Mom who used to say to us, "I don't know where you kids get this from", referring to our strong stance regarding our Blackness. She was too busy trying to raise five children on her to own to be preoccupied with issues of race unless or until it was just too blatant to ignore "in your face" racism or when it affected one of her babies, then there was hell to pay (smile). I get it! It was about survival for her...

Her response and attention changed as we got older. Like many a Black Mother, she had ceramic figurines of random people about the house. All were white, as was the depiction of Jesus Christ in most Black households, not ours, but most... I will never forget coming home one day and Mommy had painted everybody Brown! No more white figurines were to be found and of course never to be purchased again in our house! Still, I love it! My Mama was woke! Priceless!!! I can't recall the time frame so I am not able to speak as to what might have been happening that inspired her to get her paint on'. If she were here, I would ask her. Talk to your people folks. No guarantees for having those conversations later. I was 26 when Mommy passed. Of course I thought I had all the time in the world. No Promises...

I do vividly remember however, one day her being angered at work. She was a Social Service Aide at a Headstart program, now known as day care or pre-school. Headstart was a government or publicly funded program giving poor Black babies a head start in front of our White peers who were staying home playing with their Mothers until that first day of kindergarten whilst we were getting nourished both physically and academically in preparation for that first day of school. My guess is that it was income driven and basically free. Black Panther Breakfast program and others were doing the same. Day care now is unaffordable and Headstart is largely a thing of the past, certainly not as prevalent. Of course it is, poor kids in America with a leg up? That was taking the stated commitment of the premise of Affirmative Action, to level the playing field for Black Americans, much too serious... Spit out the Kool-Aid. Not gonna' happen! Not on some folks' tax dollar. Instead, energies were expended to ensure our families were broken as our parents were paraded as welfare queens and deadbeat dads. That is the preferred image for the media and many others in America, the land of liberty, equality and justice for all...

A part of my Mother's job was to occasionally secure emergency funding for families in need. Apparently these funds were made available through the town we lived in and my Mother had had contact with the town representative in charge of this fund on many occasions. This woman, the Mother of a classmate who obviously had never bothered to ask him who was that Black girl in his class picture, obviously thought my Mom was white. Something about that last name. It can be deceiving...

On one occasion, the final one I suppose, when Mommy called to get emergency relief for a family, the woman (I won't call her name) said "Mrs. Higginbotham, I think there is a nigger in the wood pile!" My Mom had never heard that expression before and I did not understand it until much later in life when I began teaching myself Black history and learned that often escaped Slaves were hidden in the wood pile to avoid being re-kidnapped and tortured for running away, because we were supposed to want to stay. OK...

So Mommy asked Mrs. No Name to repeat what she had just said, which she did without a moments hesitation. My Mom responded that she thought it was time they met. She and her red headed ride or die White girlfriend (ironically I have a red headed ride or die friend too!), Mrs. Anne Meaney, drove to municipal hall with Mrs. Meaney trying to calm her down all the way. What I would have given to see the face of the city worker when she came face to face with Mrs. Higginbotham. Nowadays we would have sued the town and demanded her termination. We were quite young when this happened, Debbie and I were likely still in grammar school but Mommy told us about this incident so the fire was always in her belly, burning deep down inside, buried under her necessity to survive and provide for her family but she knew it and thankfully we heard it...

My older Sister however heard it first, heard it loudest and certainly inspired the other four of us to be in tuned to what is required and what it means to be Living While Black in America. Still, it ain't easy...

Today, I celebrate my big sister for feeling the fire and for lighting the torch. Thank you Deborah for being the Ungawa in my Black Power!

~Hugs,
Lil' Sis #1!

Living While Black In America...

A few days ago I got off the #3 train at the newly renovated 145th Street train station in Harlem. It's all shiny, brand spanking new, well lit and adorned with beautiful ceramic wall tile murals of Black art. One would think that as a resident, I would be excited about these improvements that are accompanied by new sidewalks and newly paved streets popping up all around Harlem but I am not... Instead, I know, that despite Black folks living here for ages and holding it down, never were we respected as a community of taxpayers and metro riders worthy of such cleanliness and upgrades.

Instead, the improvements smack me in the face as signs of the inevitable gentrification of Harlem [and most American cities] and the perception that dignity, respect and attention is more due some taxpayers, who are poised to take over the community, than the current... So NOW the city and MTA can find interest in and resources for improvements, even when or where none seemed due...

This reminds me of being invited by a politically engaged friend to a meeting in the 5th Ward of Washington, DC where she was very active. I lived in Ward 2. It was some time during the 90's when DC was still very much chocolate, predominantly Black. A developer had invited the community to come hear about all the new stores and fancy and/or overdue improvements that were being proposed for their neighborhood, presumably to secure their support instead of their protest at city hall, to distract them by making them think the improvements and shiny new name brand stores were intended for or would benefit them. He nearly turned beet red with embarrassment when I asked if these improvements were all of a sudden being proposed not for the benefit of the audience he was addressing but for a new audience he anticipated was soon to move in. He could not deny it. And the beat goes on... Nothing nice about gentrification...

While I resented and was appalled by how dirty the subway stop certainly was, knowing that it had not been properly cleaned or resurfaced in decades, gave me some proud sense of walking in the footsteps of Black heroes and dignitaries that made Harlem historical such as Malcolm X, Zora Neal Hurston, Cab Calloway, Langston Hughes, James Baldwin, Ossie Davis, Ruby Dee, Duke Ellington, Louis Armstrong, Marcus Garvey, W.E.B. DuBois and too many more to mention who surely had also stood on that dirty platform and traversed those filthy stairs. Somehow washing away the build up of debris and covering it with new shiny paint and beautiful ceramic wall tiles, in a sad and very irrational way, also washed away some of our history as is happening in so many of our urban centers throughout the country. Oh, if only those subway walls could have talked...

Living While Black in America, it ain't easy...

On Becoming...

Is anyone else reading Michelle Obama's book, Becoming? She, like many who have studied hard  and paid a bundle to become attorneys, shares that early in her career she realized that she hated being a lawyer. Despite making big bucks, it did not fulfill her. How many of us have had that realization about being an attorney or whatever is our chosen profession? When and why did we have that epiphany and what did we do about it?

I was also surprised, but more impressed, to read her admission of failing the bar on round one and how devastating that felt to her. Making such an admission, speaks to her level of confidence and how comfortable she is in her skin. Most folks take that one to their grave with them no matter how brilliant they become, as a matter of fact ESPECIALLY when perceived and admired as brilliant so not to disturb the perception of brilliance at the expense of being perceived and still admired for normalcy... She was someone who had never failed at anything. Can't say I never failed at anything but not passing the bar on the first time out was a hard pill to swallow. It definitely puts a chunk in your armor of self confidence.

I felt wounded until I spoke with someone I considered, like Michelle Obama, a brilliant woman, a former professor from Howard University who had multiple letters behind her name; MBA, CPA, Esq and Phd! She was the bomb and I admired everything about her, but mostly her grace and intelligence. I was floored when she shared that she too zonked the first time out! I could not believe it. She built me back up, made me laugh and told me, "Ms. Higginbotham, the only person who has never passed the bar is the person who stopped taking it". I dusted my pride off and took it again. Michelle's admission about overcoming "failure" likely helped a lot of folks who will read her book. Her honesty and "can do" spirit will serve to encourage so many more to stand in their truth and just keep pushing to BECOME who they know they can and should be. Flip the script, failing nurtures growth...

Like Michelle, I realized early on that I was not so enthused with many aspects of the practice of law (that's another blog). I still struggle with it because I am a natural advocate and feel sometimes like I have cheated those who I can help and/or compromised my voice... I wonder if our shared misgivings about the practice has some relation to our shared bar experience. Was our subconscious talking to us before even we knew? Who knows? But again, I find that I am in good company! (smile) At the end of the day, being a lawyer, practicing or not, still has far reaching benefits so if it is your dream, don't be discouraged. Do some serious soul searching, intern at a law firm or two, hang out in the back of a courtroom, be sure you want it and go for it! Just don't pay for it! LOL!!! Find scholarships.

It is a very good book and is literally and rightfully selling like hotcakes! She is being very candid and transparent about her life and how she BECAME [the phenomenal woman that she is...] I will see her in NYC on Saturday night. Looking forward to it. This is good read and I hope that you all are checking it out. Too busy to read it? Get it on audio. Let her read it to you while you drive to do what I hope is your dream to BECOMING you!!!

While Flying With "Becky Sue"...

Recently I took a flight from NJ to NC. Thankfully it was a very short flight. Not sure how I ended up with a middle seat but I did. I prefer aisle seats. As luck would have it, I ended up between a zero personality but harmless guy and a blonde female exuding attitude and seemingly annoyance as soon as she sat down. I will name her, "Becky Sue"... 

While I can be overly friendly, I appreciate that some folks just aren't. I recognize the frustration of the Becky Sues in the world in dealing with the harsh reality that life has deemed them as "common" as I and sadly they cannot afford their private, "whites only", airplane which requires that sometimes, fate is not in their favor, and they just might have to sit in close proximity to folks who don't look like them... I appreciate their pain so I give them their space as much as is possible on a cramped airplane and try not to be a nuisance. Not! But I am less bothered and do nothing deliberate to add to their misery. Overall I suck it up too and am damn thankful along with them when it is a short flight.

On the heels of the results of the election revealing that again white women overwhelmingly supported racism, bigotry and white [male] supremacy, coupled with the fact that I am traveling to the south, I may be a little sensitive to or less tolerant of Becky Sue's aura. Although when I travel south, I consciously put myself in check before I go and accept that because of our history, it is sometimes me who pre-judges that I am dealing with racism. I caution myself not to jump to hasty conclusions because there are good folks everywhere...

Becky Sue however, seemed to fit the mold. Maybe it had something to do with the t-shirt I was wearing boldly proclaiming, "We Are the 96%!, Black Women Too Smart to Vote For trump!" Maybe that pissed her off. 

Or maybe she is part of the 53%, White Women Who voted For trump or the 76%, White Women Who Voted Against Stacey Abrams but for brian kemp in the GA governor's race, some who stand "with" me and call themselves Democrat, liberal, progressive, feminist or my "sister". OK...

Again, given the stats from nationwide elections on Tuesday, I attribute girlfriends distasteful aura to the distinct possibility that she had some pre-judgements going on about me before she even sat down. Who knows? But her "annoyance" attitude screamed that if the plane was not so crowded, surely she would have requested another seat. Po' Thing!!! 

She nearly died when the spoon from which I had eaten, dropped in her seat as I reached across her to hand my trash to the flight attendant. I swear, I did NOT drop it on purpose. It really did drop accidentally. But I must say that I did laugh inside at her visible discomfort especially when we never found the spoon. We were sitting too close together in our cramped conditions to adequately be able to look for it. It landed in some crevice. But hell, it was just a spoon. A spoon with remnants of my saliva on it that unfortunately fell somewhere in her space. I felt terrible that she had to fly for another half hour or so being subjected to even the thought. Chuckle. Chuckle... Call it divine intervention. Lucky for both of us, this would be less than a two hour flight.

Feeling pretty certain that skin color was Becky Sue's problem with me, I was ever so happy to be reading an Ebony Magazine that thankfully had a Black person jumping off every page. Beautiful, colorful Black folks to include a feature story on Bryan Stevenson boldly entitled, "From Slavery to Mass Incarceration" talking about the wonderful museum and memorial he has opened in Alabama daring to memorialize and remind America of her of two of her greatest atrocities; slavery and mass lynching which he aptly calls "racial terror lynching". I caught Becky Sue reading over my shoulder when she thought I was glancing out the window. Embarrassed, she quickly turned away when I unexpectedly looked her way.

Reading an Ebony might seem insignificant but to angry, insecure White folks, that Black folks have pride in ourselves and spaces exclusive to us that does not include them, need their approval or that they just don't understand, bothers the heck out of them. Such is the foundation of questions such as why do we need our own TV station, why they protest that Black Lives Matter or why inevitably White women complain that they are left out when Black Girls Rock or P-Diddy pays tribute to us...

Insecurities and some innate, if not incessant need to control non-white folks, especially in white spaces, kicks in high gear and of course, if they are not involved in or consulted about whatever is the occurrence, we must be conspiring to overthrow or do White folks some harm. You know, like when we are at work seen eating or talking together. We can't be just eating or talking together while Black, as do they when they gather to eat or meet in the workplace, we have to be plotting an overthrow, revenge or something of the like adverse to their standing as white folks. Meet mr. trump...

Call it paranoia or although unfounded, call it fear of karma. Newsflash, if Black folks have not retaliated for all the harm done us for centuries in this country, it is safe to assume that it is probably not in the plans... When Black folks gather it is not to the exclusion of others but instead in the interest of us. Gathering or otherwise sharing or celebrating us and our culture, is how we mend, nurture, heal and take care of us in a world that would deny us our right to simply be... Sometimes we just take our time and create our space. It is unapologetic and has everything to do with us. So please rest your mind...

Sitting next to Hilly from the movie, The Help, I mean Becky Sue, for two hours feeling her negative energy on the eve of very disturbing election results from those who would call me "sister", conjured these thoughts for me. Sadly, unlike the character Minny, also from The Help, I did not have a nice slice of pecan pie to offer Ms Hilly... I guess the inadvertent drop of my spoon in her lap was as close as I was gonna' get to delivering southern hospitality for that flight...


#iamnotafeminist

CONCEDE NOTHING!!!

This is my response to news that Mayor Gillum has conceded in Florida:

Not that I have been watching the returns. My TV is off and I have been mostly off-line this evening. I do not have all the details (and I would dare say neither does Mr. Gillum) but I am disappointed that Mr.  Gillum has conceded. I think young Dems should paint a new picture for the party. Fight back and stop rolling over.

It is not unrealistic to believe that repugs cheated across the board and certainly no one has paid a price for tampering in the 2016 debacle so what incentive to do otherwise now? I would wish that FL, GA & TX especially challenged the results and made the repugs prove they won.

They count on Dems conceding and that's what they do. Hillary should have rescinded her concession as soon as it became conclusive that the russians had interfered. She had every right. A concession is a friendly, non-binding agreement entered into in good faith. Once it became clear that there was nothing good or faithful about the results, the Dems should have fought back. From hanging chads to russians playing roulette with American politics, Enough Already!

I expect the Dems in the house to give the orange jerk, double chin mcconnell, Latino denial "ted" cruz and all the rest of the republican patsies hell! No time to play nice. That is not why they were sent there. Handle it! Put the brakes on this state of mass destruction...

Back to the main point, CONCEDE NOTHING! MAKE THEM PROVE THEY "WON"!

NO EXCUSES!!! VOTE!!!

What will today bring? None of us knows... Sadly some of my angst has to do with dirty politics. I wish I could feel confident that the process of democracy was truly valued in this country as so we tout and that the process of our politics respected the will and the presence of We the People at the ballot box. Not so sure. Folks want to win at any expense, are scared shitless (on both sides for different reasons) and will stop at nothing to be declared the victor...

With that being said, our presence at the polls is just that much more imperative. Sitting it out today just ain't an option. Although I want that we are less predictable in our voting and I do want that we exercise different options and make politicians earn our votes instead of our blind loyalty to any one party, this ain't the election to make that point.

Normally I would not advocate straight ticket voting but I do today. To do otherwise is to endorse what is happening to America which ain't making it great for most of us... No matter the intent or the position of the red candidate, to vote republican today is to send a message to the reincarnation of hitler occupying our white house and no matter the position of the red candidate, he will boldly claim it as such... To vote red today is an endorsement of a message of hate, xenophobia, misogyny and racial division. To vote red today says that the killing and maiming of innocent people at the hands of angry white supremacists is OK... To vote red today says that you are not bothered that America has lost global credibility and has become an international laughing stock... To vote red today just sends a bad message on so many levels but most importantly, to vote red today says you don't give a damn about the next generation. I am not a parent but...

It is 6am. The polls just opened in NYC. I only have to walk to my lobby and vote. I don't even have to take off my pajamas. Not that it was ever an option but it is just too easy for me not to vote. I hope that you will not allow anything to get in the way of your voting today. If for no other reason, be inspired to vote today because folks tried to stop you from voting! They KNOW that your vote counts. Show them that you do too!

Vote like your freedom of ________________, fill in the blank, depends on it. It probably does...

Drown out the noise today and just vote!!! Blue is such a lovely and calming color. IJS...

Ask me how to get the t-shirt!!! 

NO EXCUSES!!! VOTE!!!!

The Hate U Give, Miss Higgi's Review...

Last night I hosted a private viewing and community talk back about the movie, The Hate U Give. Of course I had seen the previews. I even got to see clips and hear the Director, George Tillman, and lead male actor, Russell Hornsby, talk about the film at the Martha Vineyard African American Film Festival (MVAAFF) in August. But nothing can prepare you for the depth of the movie nor the discussion that followed.

In preparation so to guide the discussion, I saw the movie in advance on last Friday. I was emotionally spent for at least 3 to 4 hours after leaving the theater. I saw it alone. I needed to debrief as apparently did many other moviegoers on that Friday afternoon in Harlem. During the movie, strangers us all, cried at the screen, cursed at the screen and even cheered at the screen. Emotions covered the gamut; fear, anger, sadness, pride. You name it. Following the movie as we exited the theater, strangers still, some of us talked about the movie, our impressions and our feelings. All of us vowed that we would encourage others to see the film. Last night I did just that...

Just over 150 people showed up at the theater to watch and engage in discussion about the movie. Not surprisingly, most stayed for the discussion that followed and were so full that they could have spoken for much longer if we had more time to use the theater space, which tells me that we NEED an "US" space for discussions amongst US, about US...

The film however, is a film for everyone. The messages in the movie are intersectional and provocative. The obvious is a young Black girl straddling the reality of living in two worlds struggling to find, stand in and claim her dignity and her identity in both places. We have all been there. I once heard a Black sociologist say that to be Black in America requires that one be a skillful and purposeful "paranoid schizophrenic". I will add "resourceful". On queue, an immediate and instinctual role change or "code switch" may be required to successfully stay afloat and/or navigate between the two worlds. That was back in the 80's. Still, we are schizophrenic... Still, we straddle... But that our children, among so many other life lessons, have to also learn to straddle just to survive, when most other children are merely concerned with only the business of being children, is quite sad...

Last night, a grandmother spoke on lessons of survival she has had to teach her grandchildren. Students who attend PWI (Predominantly White Institutions - the answer to HBCU) schools, secondary as in the movie and/or collegiate, spoke to their experiences and offered strength and words of wisdom, encouragement and enlightenment to others in the audience who are similarly situated and their parents.

There was lots of discussion about the strength of the characters; the strong Black man supported by the strong Black woman and how they were undefeated when they offered balance to one another. This dynamic is more prevalent in our community than we realize or celebrate...

Young men caught up in the juvenile detention system were in attendance. They shared their struggle with us and spoke about how the movie affected and/or reflected their own experience. We embraced them and gave them a standing ovation. It was not meant to be symbolic. They need us. We need them...

Colorism and light skin privilege was discussed as there is some controversy about why the director chose a light skin female to play the lead character (Amandla Stenberg) when the heroine in the book and featured on the cover is clearly dark skin with nappy hair... A young light skin girl in the audience passionately and convincingly denounced her privilege and paid tribute and expressed love to her dark skin sisters. An elderly light skin woman stood up and warned those falsely comforted by light skin privilege that when the chips fall, we are all in the same boat, in the same river, fighting for the same paddle. Another of those discussions that needs to happen amongst us...

Book Cover, Author Angie Thomas

Similarly, in August at MVAAFF, a young lady posed the subject of colorism to the director during the Q&A session. Young adults (YA) are already familiar with this movie as many have read the YA book. Although the director should have been prepared for the question, his response was weak and defensive. Ironically, I recently read an article wherein the young star of the movie, Ms. Stenberg, did an interview about another opportunity that she turned down because she knew it belonged to a dark skin actress; the role of Shuri in the world famous and wildly successful movie released earlier this year, Black Panther. She acknowledged that she was being cast for the role because of Hollywood's unapologetic and divisive promotion of it's preference for light skin or interracial Black performers over dark skin actors. How brave, insightful and incredibly unselfish of her. When we know better, we do better. She is only 19...

By a show of hands most admitted to crying during the film; men too... I, too, had that response. I wish we had explored why we were moved to tears. Was it our anger, our hurt, our facing the realization that others just don't see, hear, feel or share our pain? Was it the reality of the loneliness of our pain that drove us to tears? At one point in the film, the main character acknowledges that "they don't hear us"... That resonated with me.

This is a film with a message for everyone. It is important that White folks see this film if no other reason, then to test their "wokeness". How much do even those who claim to be allies with Black, Brown and other non-white folks, how much do they really understand? What is their level of sensitivity? Do their tears flow when they watch this film and if so, is the source of emotion for their tears the same as that for Black viewers? This movie effectively puts that question to a test...

Again, this is a powerful movie on so many levels. If it does not move you, you have a hole in your soul... See the movie. Discuss the movie. Read the book. LaUnique Bookstore, Camden, NJ, sold out every copy on hand. There is a thirst for truth speak. Both the author of the book and the director of the movie did their part to quench this thirst.

For those who resist seeing the movie because it is the "same old movie" or "more of the same old pain of which we' like not to be reminded", it ain't so... If ever there is a movie that captures the power of film to spark an emotion, this is it. It is unpredictable and I assure you, this is not a movie that have seen. I will see it again. You be sure to support it next weekend when it officially opens in theaters nationwide. Don't cheat yourself of both a lesson and a blessing...

When Seated At The Table; Speak Up or Get Up!

What susan collins did in her endorsement of kavanaugh is what is expected when persons otherwise disenfranchised are seated in positions of prominence, no matter how they got there. Be they seated in the halls of Congress, at the helm of human resource or police departments, on judicial benches or around board room tables across America, to keep these coveted seats, there is an expectation that persons in these positions will tow the majority line, behind the scenes and publicly when is necessary. sue collins spent the whole of Sunday doing the network news circuit hopelessly trying to save face or incredibly trying to justify the unjustifiable...

Members of the majority group parade, as the face of or justification for their malfeasance, that sole token person in their organization from the adversely affected group, for the world to see that there is endorsement of their bad act by at least some members of the disenfranchised or ill affected group. sue collins allowed that she be that lame person...

She became the woman to give the repugs cover for their blatant disrespect of Dr. Ford, herself and all other women. She became the woman to endorse reversal of hard won civil and reproductive rights for all women and minorities alike. She became the pin intended to deflate the ballooning advancement of the #MeToo movement. Hers became the female voice to silence victims of sexual assault or abuse. Her face became the signal that the bad act(s) of the old white men's club to which she belongs, was not that bad because even their "little woman" stands with them. She allowed that hers is the face and voice of other women who agrees with them. There is not enough money... IJS...

At what point do we, the disenfranchised seated at these tables, be they legislative tables, board room tables, tables in human resource or EEO/AA departments, tables of police or judicial appointment or any of the like, at what point do we become complicit in our own oppression when we allow that ours be used as the face to justify the harmful deed or that we become the keeper of the dreadful secret that disenfranchises or otherwise harms the group to which we belong (i.e. disparate pay, discriminatory hiring practices, appointment of bad judges, unjustified arrests or senseless murders of our people)?

What is our level of responsibility when we are seated at these varied tables? Do we sit at the table for ourselves and our personal interests or are we seated at the table in the interest of the group to which we belong? Whatever might be your thinking as to how you arrived to be seated at the table or why you are seated at this table where sometimes damning and often times far reaching decisions are made, is your thinking of your purpose for being seated at that table in line with those who invited you to the table or those with whom you sit at the table? Is your voice welcome and heard at the table? Will your colleagues at least taste the collard greens or try the burrito? Or must you go along to get along and eat the meal as prepared? If so, at what price? Is it worth it?

These are just some of the questions that clog my mind of late. Shame on susan collins and all others who allow themselves to be used in this way...

Do not allow that you are invited to the party but never asked to dance. Demand that when you get to the party that you are asked to dance or conversely be bold and confident enough to ask your peers to dance with you and then dance your ass off!!! Show them some new steps. You are not there to be reserved in your presence, to endorse baby steps on the road of progress or to rubber stamp the same ole' two-step. And if you are, then please get up! Kindly excuse yourself from the dance floor, push your plate away and get up from the table. You do the group to which you belong greater harm and a bigger disservice than those who invited you to the party or who offered you a seat at the table. I understand that it ain't always easy and that we all have different approaches but at some point it is required that one speaks up or gets up! IJS...

What are your critical thoughts? Let's talk about it...

Final Words on Cosby...

I don't like that Cosby is treated differently than others who clearly have done the same and seemingly worse...

I don't like that all kinds of legal precedents were broken to bring his case. Shame on the DA for career building on Cosby's back and the judge who unsealed the deposition is scum! A legal precedent was set to capture Cosby that WILL be used in other matters. To hell with agreements! Why sign one if this can happen? Give back the money!!!

I don't like that the supposed victim has ZERO integrity. She entered into an agreement and the deal was done! She accepted $3.8M for the deal to be done. She should not have allowed gloria allred or a career hungry political climbing DA to convince her otherwise. SHE SHOULD have told him she needed to honor her agreement OR she should give the damn money back. Of course she won't... She will now make millions more as the face of the woman who took Cosby down. Her face... I will leave that right there...

I make ZERO excuses for anyone, man or woman, guilty of the accusations made against Mr. Cosby. I am a woman.... Dare I say that Cosby was a product of his time and if we are to crucify him, we've got a lot of crucifying, convicting and incarcerating to do. I will not accept a double standard for Black folks no matter how egregious our deed or that of which we are accused... Hugh Hefner died just in time because Lord knows all kinds of stuff happened in the PB Mansion, even one of Cosby's accusers. What were the Rat Pack if not celebrated womanizers? Were [white] women not burning their bras, defying their daddies, testing/tasting Mandingo, finding their liberation sexual and otherwise? Studio 54? Casting Couches??? I will suppose many people, men and women, did things during this period they now regret as they serve on high benches, star in big movies, occupy corporate offices, report the news of the Cosbys of the world, call themselves "feminist", Grandma or republican... I do not like that an example is being made of Cosby. As we see, he has lots of company. I am shocked by the acts I am hearing committed by him and other powerful men. I hear women chime in on making excuses for teenage boys who do this stuff and then we are supposed to wonder why their sons have grown up to be men who do this stuff...

I am sorry for the victims of Cosby and all others who have been violated sexually. I cannot imagine a more invasive act upon my body, my being, my soul. I can imagine no matter how many years go by, it must be a lingering, haunting image that occupies the mind's eye always... My heart goes out to ALL victims of sexual abuse, Black/White, Female/Male, Rich/Poor, Catholic or otherwise (where is/was the outrage? 60 victims would be a blessing). IJS...

Yes Cosby is as wrong as two left shoes if he violated even one woman but Hell No to the Double Standard no matter how loud the cheers are to annihilate the accused. Have the facts and be consistent in your outrage! Yes, his work should live on and I hope like hell, he defies the desires of all who want to see him die a broken man in prison and he instead lives on to see freedom again beyond the death sentence he has received for not only being a sexual deviant but also for being Black, male, rich and powerful all while being the face of morality... America takes delight in dismantling all such people. We shall not dance the happy dance with them until and/or unless they treat similarly situated White men/predators the same.

Meanwhile one convicted of engaging in potentially treasonous activities against the nation, to include virtuous White women, gets FOURTEEN days in the prison receiving unit. He will not see the inside of a prison in 14 days but let's hang Cosby! Go Figure...

Do Not Look Away...

Don't turn away, look at this photo of human chattel tied and bound to one another in the bowel of a ship for months. Existing, surely not living, in fear. Not knowing where they were going. Not knowing who were their captors. Not knowing why they were being kidnapped. Not knowing what could possibly be their dispute with these barbaric "people" who were stealing them from their own land, taking them to God knew where...

For months during the middle passage as these innocent people were bound to one another and could not move, women had periods, everyone defecated and urinated, folks surely got sick being force fed food that was foreign to them by their foreign terrorists whose foreign tongue they did not understand... Women AND men were raped. Some women may have given birth to babies conceived before their kidnapping by men they loved or conceived with their rapist captors during their period of incarceration waiting for enough of their peers to be kidnapped to fill a ship to take the barbaric voyage to hell...

I can't say it often or loudly enough, if White folks (from all parts who were involved in the trade of humans as chattel), who expend much energy in weaving a story about how Black, Brown, Yellow and Native American folks are barbaric, less human, more criminal, lazy, shiftless, untrustworthy, etc., etc., etc. and who use media, history books, mass incarceration and other tactics to convince themselves and their offspring that they should be fearful of us, if only they knew or were willing to look in their own mirror to examine their own history, they would wonder why we, Black folks, Brown folks, Yellow folks, Native Americans and others, are not afraid of them. They would question whose story represents the epitome of heartless barbarity and never would they utter the words to anyone to, "get over it". They would have some understanding of that which they are telling others to get over... Never shall/should we forget or agree to "get over it"...

America, the land of "pull yourself up by your bootstraps", wears boots that were laced, spit shined and whose soles were worn out by Black folks who were forced to wear those boots to build this country, who continue to build this country from inside prison walls still used to enslave and work us for free...

Look at this photo. Enlarge it. Scroll across it. Examine It. Experience it. 

Just Do Not Look Away...

I JUST DID IT!!!

I QUIT smoking 26 years ago today and believe me, I was a REAL smoker, a pack per day! Cigarettes cost $2 and some change back then. In NYC today, they cost as much as $13 per pack! WTW??? 

Salem 100's, that was my brand. Why? Because that was what my Mother smoked and most teenage smokers started out smoking whatever our parents smoked because that was the brand most accessible to us. Unbeknownst to them, they were our main source. LOL!!! We "borrowed" their cigarettes hoping our parents never noticed their pack deflating quicker than they could light up.

Of course my Mother noticed, she had five children most of who were "borrowing" her cigarettes. Smoking was so socially acceptable back then, there were smoking areas for teenagers with consenting parents to smoke in high school. It was a different time... There were only 20 in a pack! She busted us all very cleverly around the dinner table one evening. We fell for her trick to find out which of us was smoking hook, line and sinker! That's a really funny story for another time...

But yes I quit 26 years ago today and I haven't looked back. Never took another puff. I knew that I had really quit when I survived my first crisis without a cigarette. Smokers understand... I decided that just as the recovering junkie cannot take the occasional hit, I would not test or tempt myself to take the occasional puff. I liked smoking too much. I would have started smoking again just as sure as my name is Helen...

I quit for reasons of self preservation and because someone very near and dear to me at that time simply said, "You are too smart to smoke". Nothing profound but it struck a chord and made perfect sense. I had procrastinated and made false promises to myself to quit for long enough. It was just time and I knew it. It was the healthy thing to do. I quit cold turkey! You CAN too and you WILL when you are ready! BELIEVE IT! Oh YES You CAN!!!

As I reflect on how I just put my mind to quitting 26 years ago today and I just did it, I am standing still and absorbing the moment to motivate my CAN DO spirit to deal with challenges I am facing today. I am reminded, that Oh YES I CAN!!! Oh YES I DID!!! And Oh YES I WILL!!!

A Tribute to Our Queen...

Yesterday I spent what was the equivalent of a day at work watching the funeral services for Aretha Franklin, Our undisputed, irreplaceable and much adored Queen of Soul.

It took me back down memory lane. It reminded and made me proud of the wonderful and talented people we are and the rich legacy that the Black American community has shared with the world. Our being, our existence, our resilience, our style, our culture, our class has inspired so many. Sometimes we forget. Most times we don't celebrate it loudly or often enough allowing that not only do we forget but others, who stand firmly on our shoulders, who mimic our traditions, who walk in our path, who benefit from our struggle, to also forget...

Yesterday I was reminded of my Mom who played ALL of Aretha's music, from the blues, to jazz, to gospel, to her top 40 hits. I remembered regarding her music "old people's music". Definitely I was the kid who either didn't appreciate or understand Aretha's music, not even the songs that I did try to sing. I was 6 or 7 when Ms. Franklin blew up. I was in my 20's when I came to appreciate her beyond the top billed songs. Who didn't like RESPECT? Kids were hooked on showing that we could spell the word and say it with the same sass as she offered it to us. "R-E-S-P-E-C-T, Find out what it means to me!"  WE LOVED IT! Didn't fully understand it but we loved it! 

I vividly remember truly hearing and fully understanding the words to Do Right Woman, Natural Woman, Ain't No Way, Dr. Feelgood, etc and actually feeling the meaning of the words my child self had sang for all those years. Wrong words and all! LOL! The woman now understood and fell in love with and came to understand why Aretha is the Queen of Soul. I began to FEEL the soul of her music in my soul and came to respect and appreciate her as the Queen! My Queen! My neighbors probably thought I had lost my mind. I was 20 something, riding through the neighborhood blasting not young folks' music of the 80's but Aretha Franklin's gold from the 60's and 70's. I am damn near 60 and still I blast and sing her music as loud as I can every chance I get! I love me so Re Re! Her music is timeless!

At the beckoning of the spirit of our Queen, yesterday was a day of our shouting and showing off to the world who we are, what we represent, what we have contributed. We reminded ourselves and the world of the treasure of us. There will never be another Aretha but forever her legacy and unmatched talent will live. I feel so blessed to have her music to allow me never to forget who she was and what she gave us. I am blessed to have seen her in concert more times than I can count; the last being in Philadelphia about five years ago. She demanded perfection of herself. 

She came on stage in Philly and she was not pleased with her voice. We, the fans, did not care. We were just honored to be in her presence. She performed for a bit, apologized and left the stage. None of us budged. We chanted for her to come back out. We wanted to hear the Queen, Our Queen, no matter her voice. Some time later, she graciously returned to the stage, told us whatever she did to "fix her vocal chords" and she sang a full concert for us! She did not short change or disappoint her fans.

Funny thing is that now I am hearing from others who also perform that more than likely there was nothing wrong with her voice but something not right about her money and this was her way of letting the promoters know that had better come up with her dough! LOL!!! Who knows? She was legendary for getting paid in cash and up front and for performing with her cash filled purse plainly in sight. So maybe... All I know is that per usual, she gave a wonderful performance. She is the Queen and she will be missed... 

Aretha Louise Franklin, March 25, 1942 – August 16, 2018 

Rest Easy My Sistah. You brought us so MUCH joy and it will sustain us FOREVER & EVER!!! Thank You! 

When We Export Customer Service...

Last night I got a follow up call from 1-800-Flowers. The guy's accent was so strong I barely understood him and started to hang up before I realized he was returning a call per my request. I knew we were in trouble right about the time he asked me to spell J-O-H-N-S-O-N. I don't know which country he was in but it wasn't the US...

Meanwhile, an American in need of a job does not have one as big business peddles the notion that Americans won't work. Americans won't do customer service jobs? That's nonsense! Many a successful American got his or her start answering phones and/or delivering office mail. Don't believe the hype!

An American company is exploiting some poor person somewhere else in the world who needs to eat and/or feed a family and is probably all too happy to work for an American company oblivious or not concerned that s/he is being taken advantage of. That same American company claiming patriotism, all the while denying an American employment but depending on Americans to buy or use their goods and services, is charging us exorbitant prices for their exploitation of others. Big business rips folks off, line the pockets of their shareholders and CEOs, and American consumers get NOTHING in return, not a job, not a discount, yet we are expected to accept the inferior customer service we receive.

Often, I feel sorry for the poor representatives. They probably think Americans are mean as hell because of the tongue lashings they get because their English is bad or because they simply do not understand our varied temperaments and geographically cultural differences. Customer service is the face of a company. Any company that cares about it's customers does not farm out this department to foreign lands. They just don't...

NEVER let anyone tell you that Americans won't work. Demand that they finish the sentence. Americans won't work FOR PEANUTS while CEOs pay themselves in cashews...

"Mexican" Means You Too!

On Friday, I met a Senegalese shop keeper. A man sat in the front of his store and was quiet as everyone else was laughing and talking. I joked about him being quiet. The shop keeper explained that he had recently arrived from Senegal and did not speak English. To which I replied, "he got in under the trump administration?". He laughed and said "he ain't trying to stop us, he's blocking Mexicans"...

He can't be serious right now... I guess he is not reading the papers about how the occupier is deporting or planning to deport thousands of Ghanaians and Haitians. He obviously has a false and frightening sense of comfort believing that he is not included in the round up. I guess he did not hear the "shithole" comment either. SMH...

It is scary to be so detached that even when it is happening right in your face, when it could happen to you or your loved ones, you are oblivious... It is scary to live in a country and not understand the unspoken...

This makes me think of the Brown folks who were not Mexican but who voted for the jackass and then landed on the news crying their Brown eyes out when their loved ones got deported or turned around at the airport despite having followed procedures. Some folks seem not to know what it really means to have natural melanin, not gifted by the sun, in one's skin in America... They don't understand the depth and breadth of disdain of some for people of color (POC), that there are no exceptions and that "Mexican" is a code word that means YOU TOO...

The attack right now is on Brown or Black people but Yellow folks should not be feeling so comfortable. History tells us, and them too if they read, that ultimately their time will come. Normally I don't like the term people of color. It sometimes allows one to skirt the real issue or matter at hand and not be specific about or to whom one really speaks. Often it is too broad implying that POC share similar experiences, circumstances, concerns, expectations and/or responses. Of course we don't. Not in most situations... In this instance however...

I am reminded of the now seemingly forgotten but famous quote by Martin Niemoller, a German Pastor humane and brave enough to speak out against hitler's inhumanity.

First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out

— Because I was not a Socialist.

Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out

— Because I was not a Trade Unionist.

Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out

— Because I was not a Jew.

Then they came for me

—and there was no one left to speak for me.

Apathy is dangerous and silence is complicity when there is a racist mad man occupying the white house. Contain him/it! ALWAYS speak out... Don't wait until it happens to you. By then, the train has departed the station, is off the track and fully derailed. Your voice will have no impact. It will fall on deaf ears as a precedent has been allowed to have been set. 

You ARE your Brother's Keeper... 

It is YOUR duty to #resist!

Bullying Is Not a Rite of Passage...

Somehow in America we have come to accept that bullying is an inevitable part of childhood, a rite of passage if you will, that we all get and give our fair share of and that somehow, miraculously, we will all get over it. All too often, however, such is not the case... If your child is a bully, handle it swiftly and sternly. Find out what is wrong with him or her, get them some counseling and/or give them a dose of their own medicine.

I remember slapping a boy, for what I do not recall. It was the week of a long anticipated Girl Scout camping trip. His Mother made a big deal of me slapping her son. I can't say I blame her. Her son had done nothing to me that I can recall and he did not hit me back. Of course he could have cleaned the floor with me if he so chose. He was younger but definitely the bigger person in both stature and character. His Mom came to our house and told my Mom what I had done...

My Mother told me if I did not apologize, I could not go camping. She knew I was excited about going on this trip. As much as I really wanted to go camping, I really did not want to apologize. I held out all week until the night before I was to go. She was dead serious. I was not going unless I apologized. I sucked it up and we went to his house and I apologized in front of everyone. I did not mean it but it did not matter. I had to humble myself to get what I wanted.

The next day I went camping, Camp Sacajewea somewhere in South Jersey. I don't remember where but I will never forget it because I HATED IT! LOL! I spent one night in those woods with outhouses, no lights and visions of bears and snakes and creepy crawlers dancing in my head and my Mom was coming to get me before the sun set on me for day two at Camp Sacajewea. LOL!!! I was outta' there!

All I could think of was that I apologized for nothing. Hey! I was a kid not yet ready to receive the lesson that this was not going to be one of my shining moments. My Mother made sure that I would never forget that this was not a shining moment for me. I think I remember being a bully on only one other occasion, of which I am also ashamed. I learned my lesson... The golden rule I live by today is to treat others as I wish to be treated.

Moral of the story is when your Mom blackmails you, know the value of the weapon she is bribing you with (smile). Thank You Mom, it was a valuable lesson. And "Corky", the boy I slapped who I am grateful did not give me some of my own medicine, 50 years later, I am genuinely sorry...

Bullying is not an accepted rite of passage from childhood to adulthood. Be Kind to Others. Our children are watching and mimicking...

Nothing By Coincidence...

Nothing is by coincidence. Last night as I was waiting to pay my bill at the hairdressers, a young woman, another customer, was frantically exiting. The employees were cheering her on but I did not know what her rush was all about...

When I asked where she was going, they told me she was rushing to get a bus from NJ to NYC. Well I am going to Harlem... Of course I said I would have given her a ride. They call and get her to come back and I give her a ride...

As we are riding along, we are chatting away. She was a bright and capable college educated, young lady working as a project engineer in construction. She is married with a 3 year old son working in the field of construction, truly a "man's" world. She began telling me of the racism and sexism she has endured for more than 8 years on her job. She has been looked over for promotions, criticized for taking time off to have a baby, told that she is not "grateful" enough to have her job and of course exposed to racist comments of all sorts.

Sadly the only other "Black" employee at her job is the Affirmative Action Officer" who is aware of all of this but has done nothing to address the matter or help this young woman to be treated fairly, to educate the supervisors and the workers or to make the work place tolerable for her or her peers... Fortunately, and unbeknownst to her, she is hitching a ride with and talking to one who is also an Affirmative Action Officer, who takes her role very seriously and who is not willing to be the minority face that says discrimination is OK...

We spent our ride to the city discussing her situation, the rights she has and what and how she should address her concerns. See, NOTHING is by coincidence...

Honoring One's Right to Choose...

This will seem a morbid post to most because we don't talk about suicide, at least not from my perspective but it is on my heart so here goes it. Be prepared, I am unapologetically and decisively Pro-Choice and I honor one's right to choose...

As I sit here in the middle of my bed listening to the roar of the ocean outside my hotel window contemplating yet another year of life, spending time on my birthday looking forward, looking backward, deciding what I need, should have, could have or ought be doing in my own world, I hear of the death by choice of Anthony Bourdain.

Suicide, as much as is abortion, is a life choice. One has the right to choose to begin life or to end it. I see both as very difficult, deeply personal and private decisions. In both, input from others can always be constructive and redefining. In both decisions, others will always have their opinion about what we should or should not do and probably will want the opportunity to help us to make another decision. But at the end of the day, both are highly personal and individual decisions. A decision that our loved ones must respect...

We never know the pain that another bears or what is the breaking point for someone else. Therefore we should never judge whatever decision one makes for his or her own life or regarding that which grows inside his or her body, be it a baby or conversely, an inoperable tumor, a deadly disease, built up, unbearable emotional pain or the like. Who are we to decide for another that which s/he must bear or how much s/he should continue to suffer even when we think we could have helped them to make another, and in our mind, a better, decision? We must accept that it was not our decision to make...

Perhaps, if as a society, we were less judgmental or open to discuss or accept suicide as a life option or a life choice, those contemplating the taking of his or her life might opt to talk to us about what s/he is dealing with inside. Perhaps if we were more open to the realness of suicide, we would be given an opportunity to coax or support our loved one toward another life choice. Perhaps... I don't know...

There is a reason, and I don't know what it is, that most who take their lives don't discuss it with others first. Can we have that conversation?

There is a reason that an honorable man like Jack Kevorkian who understood one's right to die by choice and with dignity was condemned by our society. He was ahead of his time...

There is a reason that an elderly friend of mine was so upset with his long time friend who opted to end his life that he, my friend, refused to attend his funeral. He was angry at and judged his friend's choice. Nothing I said could make him change his mind and respect his friend's decision because his friend "didn't have to do that"...

Let us not forget that young newlywed, Brittany Maynard, who in 2014 tried to die with honor and dignity and who shared with the world, perhaps to help another, the difficulty but more importantly, the peace of her decision to end her life. Her public disclosure, was perhaps, her suicide note or effort to say goodbye to or to calm the minds and reassure those she would leave behind. There can and should be dignity in death. Americans could not cope and did not respect her space nor her choice for her life. Still, she was true to her own decision and now thankfully, she rests in peace...

As with abortion, we are too caught up in the judgement of one's decision to die by choice. Or perhaps we are consumed with the guilt of how or why we could have been a better friend or family member who "should have seen the signs"... Who knows? Gladly, I have not walked in these shoes but this is how I would hope to respond. Yes, I would try to convince my friend or loved one who confided in me to decide otherwise, but ultimately I would respect his or her decision.

I say respect, not judge nor feel guilt or responsibility for the life choice of another. Regret and feel sorrow for your loss and the pain they must have been in but pray that s/he is at peace. I think, because surely I do not know, that is what our loved ones who have opted to go on before us, by choice or per destiny, want or would want us to do.

People like Anthony Bourdain and Robin Williams before him, are people, who for all outward appearances, lived their lives to the fullest. If we must take anything away from their deaths by choice, let it be that we too, should do our best to live what life we have to the fullest, be good to others and true to ourselves, who we are and what we want for our lives and not by that which others want or desire our lives to be. Be true to you... It is your life, take stock and then take control... That is the message I will take from Mr. Bourdain who took his life on the day I choose to celebrate my birth and the beginning of my own life...

I believe that Mr. Bourdain was in pain, mental or physical. I believe in my heart that he has found peace and that his mind, body and soul are at rest... I believe that...

He, Robin and many others lived a purposeful and meaningful lives that positively impacted others as is evident in the worldwide response to their ultimate choice in life. Mr. Bourdain lived a good life... Let that be his legacy that inspires us each to do the same...

The headline below should read, "Anthony Bourdain Bids Us Farewell at the Tender Age of 61"... Don't mourn our loss but celebrate his life! That's my birthday lesson in his death. Most who read this will not understand because this is not how we are conditioned to think... But it's all good...

TIME.COM 

Anthony Bourdain Found Dead at 61 From Apparent Suicide. 

He was found dead in his hotel room.

In life: 

Be good to others... 

Love your peeps... 

Make sure they know it and 

Live your life on your terms and with minimal regrets... 

~ Welcome to the No Judgement Zone... ~

I am 

Are You? 

About Rachel...

Recently I watched the Rachel Dolezal special on Netflix, The Rachel Divide. I watched with an open mind. She has been blackballed in most respects. While I don't agree with her behaviors and certainly very little of her logic, I can't say I agree with this social pariah stigma under which she lives.

Sadly, the predicament in which she finds herself was totally avoidable. Black folks, who are some of the most accepting people on earth, would have accepted her as a White woman supporting our struggle. She would not have been rejected by the NAACP. She would have had no problem teaching Africana studies. She could have even adopted Black children. She just would not be having the problems she is having now. Her "friends" abandoned her. Real friends would have...

Of late, she is unable to secure employment and has reportedly been charged with welfare fraud. Some find that humorous and deserving. I do not. I wish her and her family well. She seemingly has raised two grounded and intelligent sons.

Unlike most others, I see Rachel's stance claiming to be Black, as White or middle America's worst nightmare. Despite all the trimmings, rights, benefits and privileges of whiteness, still she aspired to identify as Black. She is the reason Whites flee the neighborhood when Blacks move in or conversely make Black neighborhoods unaffordable forcing Blacks out when they move in. She abandoned her whiteness, that which was to be a coveted and protected status, being White. She threw it away for what is to be regarded an undesirable station in life. being Black. Rachel is not the role model White America wants for their children. Listen to our music, dance and dress like Black folks, even marry and have babies with us but never must they abandon their privilege of being White in America...

I have also always appreciated that in her pursuit to identify as a Black woman, she at least represented a positive image of a Black woman. She carried herself well, she was polished, educated, conscious in appearance, committed to social justice, etc. as opposed to other women who are not Black but who in their efforts to identify as Black, portray the most insulting of Black woman stereotypes and grossly exaggerate the personification of ghetto fabulous. As a proud Black woman, I get it. If I wasn't already a Black woman, hell!, I would want to be me too. So I get it...

I am not defending her but I am not crucifying her either. I don't have the answers for her but I think she has a right to survive. She is Mother with mouths to feed. She has a right to earn a living. I hope she finds her way. Check out the Netflix special. Her son aspired to go to Howard University Law. Howard could have shaped him. He left for Spain to find his voice during the taping. Still, she wants to be accepted as Black. That is never likely to happen despite changing her name to something Afrocentric. The Black community has spoke...

According to the documentary, her book, In Full Color: Finding My Place in a Black and White World, sold only 596 copies upon release. I guess I am one of the few to watch her Netflix special. I have now heard her side and Black Spokane's side of the story. Interesting and complex to say the least...

Listening To That Little Voice...

                                                  

Listening to that little voice...

Yesterday evening I went to a nail salon to treat myself to a pedicure. I had not previously visited this salon. A "bonus" at the shop was that they offered a shoulder rub as you were seated in the chair with your feet under the toe dryer. I thought it too rough and I could have passed on it but I indulged my "special" treatment as it was short lived... The REAL bonus of going to that shop was meeting two new Sistah Girlz'. We laughed and talked politics and race and connected on that very special level because that's what Sistahs do when we gather... I love me some US!!!

At least 45 minutes after leaving the salon, I am climbing the stairs about to enter my building when I feel one of the gold chains I wear falling beneath my blouse. I put everything down and realize that it is the smaller of the two chains I wear. It is the chain with my gold scarab from Egypt that has broken. I have worn it for years. The chain, which is special because it was my Mom's, was there but no scarab. I practically disrobe on the steps leading into my building looking for my scarab. LOL!!! I realize that it must have broke during my "massage" from the guy at the nail salon... Immediately I back tracked my steps through the parking lot back to my car. Although well lighted, it was dark. I don't see it. A neighbor helps me in my search. Thank you neighbor but no luck...

The shop is closed by now. I am recalling that they were sweeping the floor when I left. My 18K gold charm that I bought in Egypt back in 1996 is gone. I lost my prize bracelet from that same trip in 2011 at my mentee's graduation from Binghamton University. It was my first time meeting her parents. They must have thought me crazy when I freaked out and left them at the restaurant to retrace my steps and find my bracelet! I looked like crazy, but no cigar. Somebody got a real find with that one... I remember how heart breaking that was. Insurance claim heartbreaking... It was valuable in more ways than one. I am not as upset about the scarab but I want it back just the same.

Just as I am about to throw in the towel on looking on any further and find resolve in that I enjoyed both pieces, that little voice tells me to go back to the shop and at least check the sidewalk between the salon and my car. Did I mention that before driving home I stopped at KFC? Shhh.... OK I did! I confess! Bad Girl!!!

So my first stop was KFC. I thought this too was a long shot because a young lady had just spilled a soda just before I left. Surely if I dropped my charm there, it got mopped up in the river of soda when they cleaned the floor. But still, I listen to that little voice and keep on my hunt for my lost charm.

I see the penny on the ground between the cars that I noticed previously so I know that I am on the right path. I enter the KFC. It is in the hood and it is chicken so yes, it is crowded! LOL!!! Forgive the stereotype. Hell, I was there too!!!

Anyway, lo and behold and MUCH to my delight, there was my little gold scarab all shiny laying on that burgundy floor just waiting for me to come back and find her. She is a lucky charm! She got stepped on and is a little bent but she is back where she belongs. Who da' thunk' it?

I could not believe it! I fist bumped the cashier who was also happy for me. The customers seemed oblivious to my joy which is a good thing because they might have noticed my little scarab on the floor and given her a new home at the local pawn shop. LOL!

A scarab is a lady bug. It symbolizes good luck. It was good luck that I found my scarab that has been with me for 22 years. It is a reminder of a happy time in my life, my first trip to Africa and one of best my vacations ever! Every Black person should see Egypt to understand, appreciate or be reminded of the depth of our greatness but that is a (his)story for another time, another blog. (smile).

The moral of this story and the reminder for me is to follow your mind. Revisit your dreams. Listen to that little voice that talks to us... Seek the impossible. Step out on faith. Good things and positive opportunities surely won't find or happen for us if we don't seek them. I listened to that little voice, sought my little charm and against all odds, I found it. Now if I could only apply that to other aspects of my life, life would be grand again...

It is Tuesday morning. I should be getting dressed for work but I sit in the middle of my bed writing this blog. Hint! Hint! I hear ya' little voice. Really I do... I hope that you are awakening to do something, go to a place, that brings you joy. If not, know that you are in control. Be the change you want to see... Listen to that the little voice that speaks to you. The voice knows... (smile)

Make it a Lady Bug/Scarab Lucky Kinda' Day!!!

Of Course I Watched the Wedding...

Some say why were others of us so taken with the wedding on yesterday. What did it have to do with us? Well, for many of us it was a breath of fresh air to be distracted from the constant noise and barrage of biased rhetoric that has become the norm in America.

I had not intended to watch the wedding in it's entirety, only in passing. I was sure I would catch the updates on the news for the next several days. But honestly, in light of all that we are dealing with, notwithstanding that a young Black woman was at the center of this historical moment, of course I watched the wedding!

The wedding was lighthearted, whimsical, historical, magical and just beautiful on every level! The wedding was the escape from reality I needed. Thankfully for Harry & Meghan, it is an authentic reality that they get to live. Thankfully for the rest of us, they were gracious enough to share special & welcoming moments of appreciation for diversity and purposeful acts and displays of intentional inclusion, ensuring for each of us, cultural and national pride and a true sense of belonging. It was truly a wonderful event..

This morning the positive beat goes on. I awake to see wonderful coverage on CBS Sunday Morning of the Kanneh-Mason family, the family of the young cellist who performed at the wedding on yesterday. He is blessed to have amazing parents and to come from a close knit family of seven children who are all talented classical music geniuses in their own right! How refreshing to see the media take a break from promoting the negative stereotype of the "broken and dysfunctional" Black family that it has created. Happy to start yet another day on an uplifting note. And then...

The Sunday morning noise begins. My mood is disturbed by stupid politicians trying to justify gun violence and nutty lawyers and law professors distracting us with trump propaganda and the Russian investigation... Yesterday was a day where I did not see or hear anything from that orange, illiterate, subhuman nightmare occupying the white house. How grand is that?

And you ask why some of us were glued to the TV for the wedding? Do you really? Sorry for you that you missed it... I am so very TIRED of America's reality of nonstop drama. I just want the noise to stop!!! Can Harry & Meghan get married again? Anything to stop the damn noise! Of course I watched the wedding! And on this Sunday morning, I chose to stop the noise. I chose to change the channel...

Happy Sunday Folks! 

Choose your noise wisely. Your health & well being may depend on it... 

Graduating with Conscious and Purpose...

I listened today as Howard University (HU) conferred the honor of Doctorate to Chadwick Boseman, a noted actor and HU alum, before he delivered his commencement address to the Class of 2018. I was moved when he spoke of standing his ground and being guided by his principle when asked to play what he thought was a role negatively depicting the Black experience as part of a soap opera cast.

He shared with the graduates, as they go forward, the importance of finding and being true to their purpose and to the proud spirit that was instilled in or confirmed for him and them while students at Howard. I respect that he shared with the graduates his willingness to risk being fired rather than compromise his principle of not promoting a negative perception or portrayal of his people for the world to see or for the love of money. He shared with the students that once he was able to speak to the execs' about how and what he was feeling about his character, he did his best work on that job on that next day which was not surprisingly his last day on that job.

He relieved himself of what was inner turmoil in the work place and therefore potentially toxic for him personally and spiritually. Of course he was fired. Of course he was labeled "difficult", which means he hit a nerve when he spoke his truth, that he has a mind and a voice of his own that he is willing and unafraid to use as his right, which means his mind has been freed from mental chains of any kind, which means he is fearless, guided by and lives by his own principle and which most importantly means that he sleeps well every night the good Lord sends. Oh, how I can relate...

I arrived at Howard University as a woman. I was already 30 years old and had had my underwhelming but thankfully successful undergraduate experience at a PWI (predominantly White institution). But for a very few professors and the benefits of the administrators and fellow participants of a summer program for Black, mostly first generation college students (EOF, Martin Luther King's Scholars Program), I was not nurtured, groomed nor recognized there...

Fortunately for me, unlike many graduate students, I was able to enjoy a significant bit of the real HU undergraduate experience because I had the honor of living in and being a GA (Graduate Assistant) to two incoming classes of blossoming fresh"women" and two years of undergraduate RA (Resident Assistants) students while supervising a dorm at HU. Being a role model to and watching confidence grow in these young ladies is one of my proudest and most fond memories. So many of them still reach out to thank me for some advice or encouragement I gave them or to share with me some positive memory of an experience with me that sometimes I can't even recall. It is so very moving...

I arrived at HU a rebel, I exited a confirmed rebel. It has always been my passion to advocate, defend and speak up for self and for others. I am willing to take risks as did our fore-parents and our valiant civil rights workers who put the collective good before their own good. There is no time for being cautious, taking "baby steps" or being afraid to speak up in the face of injustice. I merely drink the Kool-aid that has been served me and then take much delight in serving it right back, always professionally with a smile that is sure to be laced with lots and lots of honey, purposeful self restraint, tact, diplomacy and dignity of course. In accordance with the wisdom and advice of our esteemed First Lady Michelle Obama, I am appreciative to have a seat at the table but not so grateful that I will forsake why and how I came to be seated at the table. There just ain't no other way to operate... Speak up or Get Up!

As did Dr. Boseman when he found himself in a situation of choosing between work and being true to the principles that guide his life, I find myself there yet again. While my pride and strength was not ingrained in me at Howard, it was certainly fortified while there. I am unwilling to compromise my values for the sake of self at the expense of the collective. Where, I ask, would we be if that had been the position of those who came and paved a way before us? It was that shared pride and strength that likely drew me to Howard and that made me fit, belong and remain true to Howard. I treasure each of my three degrees to include an international experience abroad but it is my tenure at Howard University that is the most valued of my collegiate experiences. 

There is an unspoken, unbreakable, uncompromising responsibility and sense of self pride, therefore Black pride, that comes with having attended an HBCU and certainly for having the honor to call oneself a Howard alum, a Howard Bison. I was inspired to hear Dr. Boseman reinforce and pass that lesson along to yet another generation of young Bison and to remind and/or re-confirm that lesson for the rest of us. It was a beautiful Day, a great speech and yet another Great Memory from Howard University for the Class of 2018. Congratulations to graduates everywhere!

Dr. Boseman closed with these parting words of wisdom: 

This is your time. The light of new realization shines on you today. Howard's legacy is not wrapped up in the money that you will make but the challenges that you choose to confront. As you commit to your past, press on with pride and press on with purpose. God Bless you. 
I love you Howard. 

Howard Forever!