"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...