REVOLUTION G(I)RL

"The Help" and Roles for Black Actresses in Hollywood

2011-08-06T20:01:00.004-05:00

Thanks to my Internet connection being unstable due to "connection issues", it took me awhile to write this. I ended up just keeping the tab to the linked article open in my browser, and going to town in TextEdit.

I've been reading a lot of articles about The Help in the last six months. I've held my pen (is that an actual phrase?) until this point because there have been so many conflicting reviews and discussion on the book that I didn't know where to start. I also knew that I had no intentions of reading it, no matter how many black women spoke up and said they liked it and found it nuanced. And because there have been more than a few black women who seemed to have enjoyed the book, I left it alone. I also didn't want to judge a book I never plan on reading.

However, Jezebel has recently published a piece in which Viola Davis discusses her reasons for taking the role of one of the black maids in the film. She addressed her critics and what it meant to take this role, and I found it to be an interesting piece. It was nice to hear from someone actually involved in the film, on what it means to play a black domestic in the 60's. Because...that's new. But I digress.

In the article, the author asks if there is a difference between the Mammy characters portrayed in the past and the maids from The Help? And my answer is: no. While it is true that domestic workers and those who are oppressed need to be given a voice and it should be portrayed more often, my problem is that no one (see: mainstream audiences) seem to notice--or care, is maybe a better word--that these seem to be the only roles afforded to black women. Unless you're Zoe Saldana or Halle Berry, you're kind of shit out of luck. When the only way a black woman can win an Academy award is from playing a maid or some kind of dysfunctional character (how Halle won her award) I have to question why these are the only stories that get told in related to us.

So while I think people should get off Viola's back (she is a wonderful, wonderful actress who is desperately underused for reasons we all know. Just ask people like Kerry Washington, another great actress) for getting a paycheck, I do think we need to continue to criticize the films and roles that get made for/provided to black people. Because while there is nothing shameful about playing a maid in and of itself, there is a problem when that seems the only role an Oscar nominated black actress is offered.

R.I.P. Amy Winehouse

2011-07-24T21:36:00.004-05:00

Yesterday one of my favorite singers, Amy Winehouse, passed away at the very young age of 27. While it was not surprising--Amy had been battling her demons very publicly for years--it was still a shock to me and many other people. I think for many fans, Amy seemed so completely self-destructive that in a way it made her invincible in our eyes. I always thought she'd either clean up and reflect on this years ahead or go the way of someone like Keith Richards, living forever despite everything and everyone saying it was impossible. While I am still grasping with the idea of Amy being gone, I would like to take the time out to personally acknowledge her and what her music meant to me.

In Amy's song, "Cherry" she reflects on how her guitar is there for her when no one else is. "And when I'm lonely, Cherry's there. And she plays along while I sing out my blues...I could be cryin', and you don't care." Amy's music has often been the Cherry in my life; when I am depressed over a relationship that sours before it even began or feeling particularly lonely and isolated from those around, Amy is always there for me. She's on all of my playlists, and because so much of her music is wonderfully personal, honest, and raw, I would have Amy listening sections, wondering how she can make personal pain so universal. It takes a true artist to be able to do that, to infiltrate one's life so deeply without them even realizing it.

And Amy's music hasn't just helped me through break ups or sad times, but when I am happy, too. Her song "In My Bed" helps me feel empowered and to remind myself that no one is above being let go if they aren't living up to what I want. "Know You Now" is a very cute song that reminds me of a first date or new crush, and her cover of the jazz standard "Moody's Mood for Love" is wonderful to listen to in the throes of new love and learning to just let go and trust.

Never has a celebrity's death impacted me so much. When I heard the news yesterday--about fifteen minutes after I woke up, thanks to facebook--I immediately said, "oh no" as my eyes brimmed with tears. There was something very authentic and honest about Amy that shone through in her music and performances, and I will miss her so very much. I hope that her soul is at peace, and that her spirit is free. Here are some of my favorite Amy live performances:

Oh No, My Hair!!

2011-07-17T16:43:00.002-05:00

The title is taken from my favorite line in Mean Girls, because I totally felt her pain.

Sorry I haven’t been blogging. I know I am always apologizing for my lack of blog updates, but it just seems I have nothing to blog about. I read other blogs and nod my head and/or add my two cents, and by the time I think of posting something here, I just don’t feel like it. I guess that is a brain on Tumblr ;). Anyway, hello! Hopefully I can get this published before I just decide to scrap it.

A couple of weeks ago I went to an amusement park. I hadn’t been in four years, and I missed roller coasters and funnel cake, even though now I only ate about a third of it while letting him eat the majority of it. About a couple of hours in, I noticed people wet from the water rides, and my date’s interest in those rides, and I mentally went into a panic. It was a weird mental conflict: I want to go on that ride, my ipod and camera will definitely be OK because my ipod was OK that last time, I don’t care about wet clothes, but what about my hair?

But what about my hair.

I remember one of my favorite perceived perks about going natural was that I would no longer have to be afraid of water, despite loving it. I wouldn’t have to worry about my relaxer getting washed out and my roots being all fuzzy (oh no!), I wouldn’t care abut shrinkage because it’d now be a part of life anyway, etc. However, when I decided to loc my hair, water once again became the enemy. This summer I learned two very important things when it comes to twists: humidty and sweat are enemy #1, and water is no different. I dread going to the gym and what it means for my hair, I hate going out because St. Louis summers are so hot and the humidity causes my roots to untwist if they’re not twisted tightly and I am horrible at retwisting. While learning to retwist my hair is definitely and enjoyable experience, it’s not when I have to do it every other day. I long for the day when my hair locks and the only thing I’ll have to worry about is how long my hair takes to dry, not all the unraveling I’ll have to deal with.

So back to the ride, the side of me that wants to experience this with him wins out. I buckle into the raft and grin at him, holding my purse tightly to my chest. He is absolutely amused by this, thinking I am worried about my electronic devices when that purse represents how I feel about my raft. It’s like I think if I hold this purse tight enough, it’s going to somehow protect my hair from getting wet. In the end, only one side of my body (and head) gets wet and it’s not so bad at all. The next day my hair is still holding up OK, and I was glad I went on the ride. There are just some things people will never understand, and I guess my relationship with my hair is one of them.

THE REVOLUTION WILL NOT BE TELEVISED - RIP GIL SCOTT-HERON

2011-05-28T21:08:00.000-05:00

Thinspiration is NOT "Inspiration"

2011-05-27T20:37:00.001-05:00

There are so many reasons to hate thinspo—it influences young girls to have unhealthy body images, and other “blah, etc” things that have been gone over dozens of times before. And those things are all valid and important, but my biggest gripe with thinspo is a shallow one.

Simply put: it’s completely unrealistic for anyone over the age of 16. And nonwhite. When I first started losing weight, I was super motivated and wanted to connect with others like myself so I created an anonymous blog. I put up my stats, made countless posts about my intake and exercise regime, and for awhile I really enjoyed the community. I was pretty neutral about all of the photos of 80 lb white chicks in bathing suits or frolicking in a forest or with douchey looking guys. It didn’t “inspire” me, but it came with the territory.

I stopped updating/visiting that blog for a couple of months. It was around the time I decided that restricting myself to 800 cals as much as possible was not healthy, and that the only way I would continue to lose weight (and keep it off) was to eat 1200-1600 cals a day. I still update my food log on a really helpful website, and got my 2 litres or water, but it became…not the center of my life. When my semester ended a couple of weeks ago, I decided it was time to get back to the gym more steadily, since I’d been going sporadically in those last two months, more focused on school. I was shocked to see that I’d lost 17 lbs (I hadn’t been weighing myself) and it was a great push. I decided to update my blog, but quickly noticed my heart was not in it, mostly because the photos suddenly became some jarring.

I am a 20-year-old black woman. Looking at photos of 16-year-old white girls who are 100 lbs does not inspire me, nor is it something I want to attain or something I think I can attain. I mean, maybe if I consciously starved myself (way under any recommended calorie intake, exercising for 2 hours everyday, etc) I’d look like that, but I wouldn’t feel or look attractive, in my opinion. I am 5’6” and an adult woman—I am meant to have curves—there is no way I should be aspiring to look like that, although many of the girls who followed me and vice versa were the same height and did aspire to that. The photos just made me feel kind of sad, like I was looking in on a world I would never understand.

I want to be toned (my biggest thing right now. I’ve even started taking strength training seriously—it hurts and I whimper while doing it, but I think that’s the goal) and fit and strong. I don’t want to be some whispery frail child—something many of them seem to aspire to. I want to look good in a bikini, have great legs, and finally get rid of my thighs that plague me.

I like food. I like eating it, cooking it, learning about it, and beaming when I’ve made something delicious. Food is not the enemy—I was never happy when I ate 800 cals a day; all of my time and energy went towards trying to space my food out so I wouldn’t go to bed thinking about tomorrow’s meal (never worked) and I kind of feared it. Now, I make smoothies, love fruits and veggies, and enjoy experimenting with how delicious I can make a hot meal without meat. I like figuring out low cal alternatives to some of my faves (banana split with whipped cream and chocolate and no ice cream; chocolate pudding with whipped cream instead of ice cream, etc) and I never deny myself. I have waffles a few times a week (albeit I make my own syrup) and sometimes I have a frap from Starbucks or a small icea cream from Cold Stone. Thinspo and those photos taught me that all of those things were bad and scary. There’d be a photo a smiling girl with her ribs sticking out saying, “want this? PUT DOWN THE FOOD!” as if shaming would work.

In order to truly be healthy, one has to transition into a healthy lifestyle. It cannot be done through shaming or through unrealistic measures, that result in a quick fix or losing 5 lbs in a couple of days and gaining it all back the next week (that was my big wakeup call.) It’s an ongoing challenge, but it is one I will never forget. And if I do feel myself sliding down a slippery slope? Well, I can just look at thinspo and remember how much that’s not what I want to achieve.

Why Are You Being "Hostile?"

2011-05-23T17:40:00.002-05:00

The common definition for hostile is "unfriendly and antagonistic" but in guy language I think it just means, "this chick decided to talk back to me." I've had the phrase in my title directed at me a handful of times by 3 different men, and it was always when I decided to assert myself--my opinions, thoughts, feelings, etc--in a way that made them uncomfortable and/or that they were not used to from me. They have all been comments from men I consider acquaintances, and are always met with a kind of, "LOL really?" from me.

It's like the minute I decide to express my feelings or opinions in a way that is not followed by a smile or sugarcoated, I am being a bitch (which is really what they mean, and what one guy even said once.) Like most people, I tend to avoid confrontation, and my "Public Face" is one of someone who is often described as, "happy, smiling, kind." However, when I sometimes show my not-so-public-face, it is met with a surprising reaction. From people who know me well, they laugh and say, "oh I love it when you get feisty!" or something or other, but it's different with strangers and especially when they are men.

My favorite description of my personality comes from the guy who once called me hostile and a bitch, but not on the same day I don't think. "You know, you remind me of the drama kids I went to high school with." I immediately knew what he meant but baited him with a smile, "oh really? What a compliment--I always wanted to be a drama kid in high school but wasn't cool enough, always on the fringe. And I didn't come to school with Starbucks every morning. But anyway, whatever do you mean?" He went on to say, "you know, they're all, "openly gay and proud" and very opinionated and stuff. You're like that. So opinionated..."

So that's what "hostile" often means when directed at me. Because sometimes I voice and opinion and I am relentless and because it is the opposite of what they are "used to" from me, I suddenly become this hostile bitch they can't stand to be around. And I guess that's OK, it is more amusing than anything else. I guess the reason I blog is to keep the Hostile Bitch to a minimum in my real life, even though it is definitely interesting when she comes out to play.

Sharing is Caring...

2011-05-21T16:45:00.003-05:00

So I know that most of my blog posts have a very specific theme, but every once in awhile I throw in something...no so specific! One of the reasons why I haven't been updating my blog as much--aside from the general "life stuff"--is because now that I attend school back home, I don't have to be confronted with the realities of race quite as much. And I just mean that being home means that I choose my social circle and don't have to feel isolating while living on an all-white campus that is less than friendly towards me. It gives me a peace of mind, and I don't feel the need to vent as much. The summer has given me time to start back to reading blogs and dissecting pop culture (as it relates to race and gender and just still being annoyed that Jonah Hill is famous!) and stuff, so hopefully I'll have more posts.

However, I'd like to take the time to share my lunch and dinner from yesterday. My kitchen was almost bare to the bones, and since I've adopted a mostly vegetarian diet (I can't give up the chicken--chicken can taste like anything and is amazing grilled, baked, boiled, in anything, etc) my food choices are limited. So I scoured the cabinets some more and realized that I had a can of chili beans. I was going to make vegetarian chili with some spices, but my mother suggested I use some of the penne I'd bought, and the idea sounded really wonderful because I was really hungry. However, the dish ended up being really love and simple to cook! So I'm gonna share it, because my recipe is cooler than anything that can be googled ;)

Vegetarian Chili w/ Penne

1/4 tsp garlic powder

1/4 cup green peppers

1/4 tsp black pepper

1/2 cup chopped green onions

1 can crushed tomatoes (or if you--like me--are out of them, then substitute with stewed tomatoes)

1 package chili powder

1 can chili beans

penne*

* the serving of the penne is very important!! because a serving has so many calories and carbs, if you are cooking for yourself and/or one other person, i recommend using a 1/3 of a cup. if you are cooking for 4 or more people, then using the whole box is fine. the penne add a lot to the dish, but they also add the most calories and carbs, too!

~this meal can easily be made non-vegetarian with the addition of meat, but I can't imagine doing so when it's so tasty + filling as is!

Arnold Schwarzenegger, Maria Shiver, Mildred Baena, and Victims.

2011-05-20T12:35:00.004-05:00

Who are the real victims in the Arnold Schwarzenegger scandal? To answer this question: Maria Shriver, his children (all of them), and Maria Baena. Yes, Mildred Baena. In celebrity culture--and--society at large, it is always common to "blame the other woman" for "stealing" a man, as if men don't have minds (or penises) to think with and is the Evil Woman who seduces him with her ways. However, throw in a woman who is less than attractive by society's standards and the public reaction and comments because something completely different. When I first heard that Arnold and Maria were divorcing, I was shocked simply because they've been married for so long. It's always a shock when people, especially Hollywood types, divorced after so many years together. As a pop culture junkie and spectator, I figure if they make the five year mark, they're in it until the end! Of course, I was unaware of the previous allegations waged against Arnold for his sexual harassment of women until this story broke, but it is not unsurprising. In fact, it makes complete sense that he'd try to exert his power over others--women, in particular--in such a way.

But back to Mildred Baena's victimhood. When her photo was exposed, I cringed for the judgment was about to be heaped her way. Here was an overweight, middle-aged woman, in ill-fitting clothes. She was not a "supermodel" or--as someone on another website stated--Salma Hayek or Penelope Cruz in a maid's uniform. In a lot of ways, she is probably the person many of those same crude commenters see in grocery stores or walking down the street everyday. But because she had an affair with Arnold Schwarzenegger (who, let's be honest, is NO kind of prize. But then again, he is the exact opposite of my physical type) they were expecting someone drop dead gorgeous. Society's perfect Latina Fantasy, and instead they had their dreams shattered.

The comments ranging from "Her?" to questions of how and why Arnold slept with that woman reek of society's racism and misogyny. If he was going to have sex with the Latina maid, she should've been really hot to at least kind of compete with Maria. And lest I not forget the jabs at Maria about how, "maybe he was tired of fucking skeletor" or other such comments. It truly amazes and disgusts me that in situations like this--no matter how much of a victim the woman is--she will be judged for her looks while the man's choices of sex partners are simply questioned or congratulated.

I don't know the complete situation--I only know what CNN news bites tell me or gossipy, eye-roll inducing gossip sites. But I do know that Mildred Baena did not wield any power in her situation with Arnold. I seriously doubt this woman was running around the mansion seducing Arnold by winking at him and speaking her Exotic POC Language. I'm not saying she's completely innocent, I'm only saying that here is a woman who worked for a very powerful and very rich man. A woman whose livelihood for herself and her family--her husband and her children--depended on the money she earned from working for the Schwarzenegger. She made good money, what would many have did in this situation? It's easy for people to ignore their own class privilege and question why she didn't just walk away, but I know it probably was not that easy.

In the end, my sympathy goes to Maria, whom had no idea this was going on right under her nose, while she was also pregnant with Arnold's child, his children (one of whom has taken to changing his last name on Twitter), and Mildred Baena. Mildred Baena whose looks were gasped at on The View, Mildren Baena who's become the butt of so many jokes, and who's story no one cares to really here or know. I mean, she's unimportant after-all, right? Just gossip fodder. It is Arnold who deserves all the mockery, shame and ridicule above all else.

Black Women Appreciation Blog Squee

2011-05-17T23:23:00.004-05:00

I don't think I can say anything that hasn't been said about that Psychology Today "scientific article" and it doesn't deserve its own post from me. So here is my rebuttal to it: I would like to give some love to blogs that regularly uplift black women and our beauty--thank you.

Abagond (wordpress and tumblr)

Blackfashion

Fuck Yeah Ethnic Women

Dark Skinned Black Beauty

Fuck Yeah Black Beauties

I Love Black Girls

BGLH Online

Neil Alvin

Natural Belle (blogger + tumblr)

The Beautiful Struggler

Hi-I'm Currently Obsessed

Pretty Dark Skinned Girls

Undercover Hippie (me!!!!!!)

Black women--we are beautiful. From size 00 to 20, from light to the darkest of browns, from natural to weave, from big lips and button noses, to thin lips and long, thin noses. Never believe differently. We are multifaceted and represent all walks of life, just like our beauty. We are beautiful.

Black women...we fucking rock, ok?!

-revolution g(i)rl

On: Reverse Racism (Aren't We Over This?)

2011-04-30T12:32:00.004-05:00

So while trying to figure out how to write an article on why I feel the Fat Acceptance Movement is largely manipulative, divisive, and racist, I started browsing other blogs. I was also killing time waiting for a friend to pick me up so we could go to Bread Co (or Panera for you non-St. Louisans) and write our *final* paper for American History. Of course, I started reading one article that linked to another and another, and in one of the comments, the avatar intrigued me. It was (what appeared to be) a white woman commenting in full agreement with article by black people, for black people. Interested, I visited her blog and the first article I saw was one about her offense at the “only white people” Twitter hashtag and how she feels that is very possible to be racist against white people! Reverse racism, y’all, t is real and millions of white people are effected by it everyday! Of course, I am being sarcastic here and I might have simultaneously rolled my eyes and smirked while typing the previous sentence.

I read the blog comments and saw that it was nothing but people co-signing the author’s thoughts. Of course, of all the comments the vast majority were white and there were about 3 black voices who agreed. Most of the comments read something like, “I agree! As a white person I laugh when people make fun of me, but it’s still racist and it still hurts!” or other little sarcastic comments, and black bloggers kissing this woman’s ass for reasons unbeknownst to me. The comment that amused me the most though was a white guy who said he can, “admit that he has some privilege in society” but that racism is still perpetuated against him. Just…um…only white people, I guess!

I will admit that it is very possible that a white person can be discriminated against, and that I—as a black woman—can be prejudiced.. They can be made fun of for the color of their skin, called “racial slurs” (is this me diminishing the use of words like cracker, peckerwood, and honkey?), and even had their general “white culture” made fun of. However, this is not—nor will it ever be—racist.

I subscribe to the sociological definition of racism, the one that says that in order to perpetuate racism in society, one must hold the power in that society. It doesn’t matter how many Latinos populate America, if your boss is Asian, or if you’re convinced your black professor hates you—it’s not racism. It’s not racist because—at least in America—whites control and influence the power structure.

As long as society works like this, I’m going to keep joking about “White People Moments” with my friends and reading blogs like Carefree White Girl.

hair hair hair, photos of my HAIR!

2011-04-24T17:50:00.007-05:00

A couple of hours ago I accidentally spilled water on my beloved macbook Dumbledore, and now the keyboard (specifically: the mouse area) is having all kinds of malfunctions. I am so sad. I'm going to take it to the Apple Store tomorrow (where I will of course be made to wait for an hour even with an appointment. Good thing their customer service is usually exceptional, although lately even that isn't making up for it) in the hopes that something can be done. I really ca nnot even come close to affording a new one, and if it continues to work this way I won't be able to sell this one six months from now to help purchase my pro (as I'd originally planned to do.)

Anyway, I realized that the last time I'd taken photos of my hair out was before my very first protection style in Oct. '09. It's crazy to think that I've been wearing protective styles for almost two years, but I am most definitely done with hem for quite awhile! My hair has grown quite a lot since then, and I think I might finally be at the length I was trying to attain for awhile and clear of that Horrible Awkward Stage. I kept my Senegalese twists in for two months in the hopes of my hair starting to lock on its own. At this point I'm not sure if it's started to lock or if this is just how a really, really old twist-out looks. However I've been playing with it and twisting it on my own and it seems to stay coiled like that. I'm going to go to talk to the lady who twists my friend's locs for him and see what she has to say about them. If they are indeed locked--aside from being really fucking happy about how cute my baby locs are--I'm going to buy something to twist my hair with. I might pay her to do it the first time though, I haven't decided. I don't even know if it's locked. Anyway, pics:

oct. '09:

today:

The Dating Game (Sucks)

2011-04-23T21:00:00.002-05:00

Since my last update I have been attempting a “love” life. Emphasis on the word attempting, as things have not been going so well; why did no one ever warn me that dating is a draining, soul sucking ritual that leaves one never wanting to do it again? But feeling like it must be done, or else something is wrong with them if they can’t get it right? Because that is exactly how it makes me feel.

I will only relay two stories here, but let’s start with Guy #1. I would try to think of a witty pseudonym for him, but I haven’t blogged in awhile and so I am rusty when it comes to these things. Anyway, back to Guy #1. I created a profile on one of those random free online dating sites not expecting much. Most of the responses were from people who didn’t even read my profile (which stated, “I won’t actually go too in-depth about myself here because you probably won’t read anything I say”) and who still chose to send me eye roll inducing messages nothing worthy of a response.

Guy #1 sent me a message that was funny and mentioned actually reading my profile. Because of this, I checked out his profile and learned that we actually seemed compatible. He wasn’t really my “physical type”, but the more we talked the more I found myself intellectually stimulated, which always takes precedence over looks in my book. We were both history and sci-fi nerds with particular interests in WWII and dystopian fiction. He made me laugh and could return my sarcasm easily.

Eventually we exchanged numbers and started texting, and he asked me out on a date. Wary, I said no the first five or so times, but he was persistent. So I agreed to a movie with him on Valentine’s Day, and we went to see the cinematic masterpiece (whose name I can’t remember) starring Ashton Kutcher and Natalie Portman. During the movie we didn’t talk too much, only looking at one another to share a laugh doing the “funny” scenes, and I was going to take the metro home when he offered me a ride. We got to know one another on the way to my house, and when I got home he sent me a text immediately after dropping me off telling me how interesting he found me, and asking me on a second date.

Second date was great—museum, dinner, and another four hours just talking in a coffee shop. The third date also went well, and while he kept trying to get me back to his place to “watch movies”, I didn’t think anything went wrong. He didn’t seem annoyed or disappointed when he dropped me off at home, and he’d agreed to attend a friend’s event with me the following weekend. He’d even texted me to confirm later in the day.

And then a day went back, 3 days, 5 days, until finally it’d been a week with on contact. I was extremely depressed. I’m not embarrassed to admit that, because I was essentially ditched for reasons unbeknownst to me. At first I blamed myself, and then I kept thinking about how adamant he was about getting me to his house. About how we’d stopped by his house and he’d gave me a tour. One night—in an anti-depressant fueled haze—I came to the conclusion that he must’ve felt that after 3 good dates (in which he’d paid for, how kind!) it was time we had sex. And while I can understand having sex with someone when they both want it, I felt a strange comical relief my realization. Here he’d cut off all contact because I chose to go home, as if I had any idea he wanted to have sex when we’d barely even hugged at all, or as if I felt that kind of attraction to him yet. I had my closure, but it didn’t stop me from feeling hurt.

And there was Guy #2, the guy who can be referred to as my first real Boyfriend; even if was only for 8 days. I took a chance on him after a disastrous fling with a guy after Guy #1. I’d given up and was OK with that, but then Guy #2 came along and he seemed absolutely perfect. We talked for hours, I felt like I could trust him, and when he asked me out after the second date I felt like it was the “right” thing to say yes.
Things ended disastrously. My way of describing it to people who I don’t’ want to tell every little embarrassing detail is that we were forced to end it and that it was, “a star-crossed love affair doomed from the start. Like Romeo and Juliet—only without the whole death thing.” I hold no anger towards him—it was both of our faults it ended the way it did but we also couldn’t control it—but I am still changed because of it. More wary of dating; only this time there is an odd calm about my feelings that I can’t really explain. As if my feelings are at a standstill because things ended so abruptly. I don’t know how to feel. Am I too naive? Too trusting? Too...everything wrong?

At this point, I am in no hurry to date. A part of me is still mourning the loss of my relationship, and the other part of me realizes I need to work on a lot of eternal things. Things I was determined to work on before Guy #2, but then he came along and I thought, “oh! This is what happens when you aren’t looking!” I need to be OK with being alone without being lonely, and right now I am doing OK.

I will be “hanging out” with a cute vegan guy I met on OKCupid soon and I am determined to keep it “strictly platonic.” I think it’ll be easy to do because I have no desire to date right now, and also because he was willing to hangout with me when I was in a relationship so I don’t expect him to be a complete slimeball (I also wouldn’t be meeting him.)

Also: online dating. That is a pain in the ass too, but that is another topic for another time. Until then I’d like to say one last thing: I hate dating.

I'm Not Dead!

2011-04-22T08:59:00.003-05:00

I have just been lazy and busy with school. As summer break is fast approaching--and I am trying not to "mentally check out"--hopefully I'll be back to blogging. I have a lot of random things in mind I'd like to blog about, although I'm not sure what the theme all of them will be, or how much they will directly on race. Anyway, I'm not dead!!! Although a lot of the blogs I subscribe to seem to be...I need to lurk around the Blogosphere a lot more, I feel so disconnected. Or maybe everyone just moved to Tumblr?

Speaking of Tumblr, everyone should check out this very hilarious blog: Carefree White Girl. It's fun to laugh along because it's so true, and as a Black girl on the margins, it's the only time I get to laugh loudly and not just watch silently when it plays out in real life.

crawling from under my rock...

2010-09-06T06:16:00.002-05:00

Hello, everyone! It’s been a *really* long while. Sorry about the abrupt hiatus, it’s really draining to blog about race/racism/all kinds of –isms, for a year straight. One day I just felt like I’d said all I had to say for awhile, and while I constantly tried to find the words to say, “be back later” or “hiatus” or what I’m saying right now, I couldn’t. Here’s something I’ve wanted to talk about for the last two weeks, but couldn’t find the words to articulate until this morning. I hope you all are doing well, and for those you who live where it’s a holiday, happy Labor Day!

Also: I hate to do this but I've started moderating comments to (hopefully) cutback on the random spam. Blah.

--revolution grl

“My son doesn’t date black girls, he’s never brought a black girl home.”

Before now I hadn’t been paying attention to the woman and her son sitting behind me in the unisex salon. But now I became hyperaware of them even though I didn’t want to be. I trained my eyes on the TV although my ears were wide open, and listened.

“Oh, he likes the white girls?” Asked the barber.

“Psh no, I wish. He likes those Vietnamese and Bosnian (as if Bosnians are not white, I guess it’s because they look “exotic” so that somehow means “less white”—like Kim Kardashian) girls who can’t even speak English. Every time he brings one home, all they know how to do is smile goofily and say, “hi.””

I turn around now, interested to see the body language and facial expressions as this conversation persists. The son rolls his eyes and laughs a little. “They do speak English. And I like some black girls, if they light-skin.” Oh, right. OK. The stylist finishing up her hair in the mirror shakes her a bit and side-eyes him, the barber laughs and says, “if that’s what you like”, and his mother—a dark-skinned woman who he looks so much like--just laughs. I turn back around and stare at the TV, hoping the topic of the conversation is changed to another subject.

When this incident first happened, I thought a lot about it over the next few days. At first I blamed his mother. “I mean, if my future child ever fixes his/her mouth to say something like that, I will have to hold myself back from popping them in it. Or cry. And wonder where it was I so miserably failed” I said to my father on the phone that next day.

“I don’t understand why you’re getting so upset when you date a string of white guys with some token thrown in.” He says this in a joking tone, but it stings.

I try to defend myself. “Maybe that’s true, but I don’t consciously go out and try to find any guy who isn’t black to date. I don’t see a black guy and automatically role him out unless he’s got good hair or freckles or some dumb reason like that. I don’t think it’s the same thing.”

My dad goes on to talk about how people just have preferences, and I counter with I don’t understand how those “preferences” could magically just exclude everyone of your own race unless they fit a very narrow category, and even then, that’s pushing it. In the end he sighs and says that’s life and I’ll experience more or similar attitudes as I go on, and I told him he was probably right and we ended the conversations. But why did this get under my skin so much?

I tried writing about this a few days after it happened (because I couldn’t stop thinking about it) but I couldn’t because there were a few things I wanted to avoid. (1) I didn’t want to be labeled as “bitter” because it feels like anytime someone—especially black women—say anything less than positive and perfect about interracial dating, we are labeled as “jealous and bitter.” I’m not. I’m really not.

(2) I wanted to avoid the demonization of one group that often goes on in these kinds of discussions. Sometimes that is a line that’s very hard to not cross, because in expressing my own feelings (and trying to speak for how I know a lot of other women feel) it’s sometimes hard to attempt to remain as personal, yet unbiased at the same time. It’s probably not possible; I will do my best to make it so. In the end the blame is not the fault of black women or men, but the society we live in.

(3) I want to make it very clear that I have no problems with interracial dating. However, what I do have a problem with is a person who do it and feel the need to down their racial counterparts, do it because of a fetish, or do it because they are trying to wash their own racial identifiers away (or “neutralize” them) in their own children. It’s sick, and I’ve found that there are too many people who date outside their race for those exact reasons. However, I do believe that love is a lot more than being the same race, ethnic background, religious background, etc than a person, and that everyone should find a person that is right for them. Hopefully I’ve made that clear. But again, why did it get under my skin so much?

It’s a combination of a lot of things. So I don’t get wordier than I already am (and hopefully to stop myself from rambling) I’ll do this in list form as well.

(1) Black pathology is the only pathology that ever seems to be served up for public consumption, even by us. Growing up, there were always things that “were said in the house and stayed in the house” or that we only joked about with family. The same thing is said for a lot of black people—there are some inside jokes that stay with us, and only us. However it feels like more and more we’re OK with broadcasting our insecurities to the world. When that boy and his mother were talking, it wasn’t in their home. It wasn’t a private conversation. It was broadcast for everyone to hear, and I’m sure I wasn’t the only one silently confused and hurt. Even if he does feel that way, I just think that there are some things you should only talk about in private, especially when they make you look like a fool. I feel that this incident is replayed over and over on a national scale almost daily, and the media that largely likes to put black life and our inner turmoil on display when they’d never do it to themselves only exacerbates it.

(2) Black women do not have the same opportunity, and to hear him say those things only made that fact so much more real. I’m going to be honest here and say that it really sucks that black women do not have the opportunity to interracially date as much as not just black men, but any other race in general. It seems like we have so many negative stereotypes against us (y’all know them, I’m not going to go into detail) and sometimes it does feel like some of the myths about us (single, always single) I refuse to believe are true. It seems like we always (intra and interracially) go the extra mile and extremely grateful and appeasing, or else a man is quick to bring up the fact that he doesn’t have to be with us.

I also notice that when black women do interracially date, there’s always a huge difference in the attraction of the man she’s with and herself. I’ve noticed this in my own life—some below average looking white dude with a less than desirable personality thinks that I am supposed to kiss his feet for daring to give me attention. And please don’t let him be attractive, then I am supposed to put put with any and everything, as well as comments about being a “chocolate princess” and my “luscious lips.” It feels like all other women have to do is…be not be black, to be seen as desirable. But I feel like I’m veering off and possibly going somewhere I’ve gone in the past.

(3) Was he subconsciously stating my own feelings? I think what struck me so much about his comment was that—even if he was thinking that—he didn’t have to say it out loud. Would it have made him a better person in my eyes if he lied and said he just “dating someone he really liked” or went on about just not having found a black girl he “had stuff in common with” yet? Would I have liked him better if he used my own approach or deny and evade, of always having the right words? He was a young kid—about fifteen, and I thought and said things at 15 that I have since changed my ideas about completely, or am working very hard to change my ideas about. What I’m really trying to say is did it hurt because deep down I believe (the inverse) those things as well? Because I have internalized it too and I try so hard to pretend like I haven’t?

I had other points, but I forgot them somewhere along the way, it’s early and I suppose they must not have been that important. I guess in the end, it’s not his fault, his mother’s fault, my fault, or any other black person’s fault. It is a symptom of the society we live in—beauty ideals, what bodies are seen as “valuable” and “desirable”, and what we are constantly told we should aspire to want. The only thing anyone can do is work hard not to internalize too much of it, and examine why we do the things we do, have the “preferences” we do. Maybe it hurt because I’m working so hard to do that myself.

Some Thoughts

2010-03-31T12:02:00.005-05:00

Hello. In a month I will be celebrating a year as Revolution Grl, which is pretty exciting for me. I love this blog because it allows me to express all of my thoughts and feelings, no matter how uncomfortable they may make others or if I sound like an idiot. It's so wonderful to have a place to blog about everything I feel, because in real life it's very rare that I find people who want to have uncomfortable dialogues, and even amongst other black people it's hard to find people who wants to talk about this stuff--and I don't blame them.

Over the last couple of weeks (or whenever the last time I updated) I've been dealing with a lot of stuff, feeling really fed up and tired of trying to navigate the waters, and I haven't been able to figure out how to read it. Jill Scott's essay on the "wince" she feels about interracial dating helped me figure that out. Here are some common themes I've noticed:

1. A black woman should not ever complain about how she feels about her place in society, because then she is just being "whiny and bitter." Black women should never admit that we have feelings and emotions, because no one cares about them anyway and we should just shut up and deal with it.

2. Any black woman who expresses dismay over interracial relationships amongst bm/ww are jealous, bitter harpies. There is no historical context, you cannot respect someone's relationship and love they feel for the other person and also wonder if you or someone who looks like you was ever on their radar in the first place.

3. Love is never about fetishization, it is always strictly based on the inside and common interests. I haven't believed this since I was twelve, but apparently there are many people who still believe it--or at least when black women's feelings are involved. Then anything is believable if it will bring a black woman down or make her feel like shit. If love was really all about "what's on the inside" we wouldn't be having debates over interracial dating and the media wouldn't be exploiting the lives of black women. And even when you take fetishization and class and color issues of black folks out of the picture, the thing that first attracts you to someone is solely their outside appearance.

4. If you are a black woman in an interracial relationship, no one cares about your opinions on intraracial dating. Also, black women who date white men are just like black men who date white women, and if black women don't feel a "wince" when they see the former they are being hypocrites. In today's society bw/wm relationships are just as common as bm/ww relationships, as the majority of white men recognize the femininity and worth or black women. After all, we've always been placed on a pedestal, right?

5. It is still Ok to espouse ignorant and hurtful stereotypes about black women--especially when telling us about what we're doing wrong. At an event doing school last week, the last 30 minutes turned into "Bash Black Women" and one guy stated, "I love my sisters--don't get me wrong--I adore, y'all. But when I do something great a white girl will go, "oh baby, that's wonderful! I'm so excited!" and a sister will say, "And? I need to get my nails done." It wasn't funny, it wasn't true for me or any of my girlfriends, but this is an accepted belief. But this would go into a whole different post about the kind of women some men are checking for in the first place. Not that I don't love a pedicure when my toes are going to be out (getting one tomorrow morning) but I'm not going to say that when my boyfriend is telling me about an accomplishment of his; I'd be too busy wanting to share in the moment with him.

6. Feminism is not a safe space for black women, and someone who identifies as a feminist is still very likely to dismiss and ignore the plight of black women. They will still see many of our daily struggles as "whining and bitterness."

Just...ugh.

In other news I am on Spring Break and I have a date tomorrow. The weather is going to be nice, and I really hope it goes well. I kind of dig him.

"Still i Rise" by Maya Angelou

2010-03-18T13:58:00.001-05:00

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.

And Sometimes the Racism is Blatant

2010-02-27T14:26:00.005-06:00

It's beautiful day here in Columbia, MO. Yahoo! says that it's 41 degrees but they also said that we were having snow flurries last Monday when it was nothing but sun and cumulous clouds. Three little boys just tapped on the door to wear I'm doing laundry, and I was feeling so nice I showed them wear the building was they were looking for! I'm trying to figure out if it's a family weekend or something, because there are so many visitors. Today is the last day of Black History Month, and my campus got a friendly reminder of why we still need it:

source

Doing the early morning hours on Friday, cotton was sprawled across our campus' Black Culture Center. Around the time it's guessed these events transpired (1:30am-ish) I was stumbling in from a night out with friends, talking to my parents, scavenging for chocolate, and getting ready for bed. There have been reports of two white males seen committing this act, but no one knows for sure. I found out about the incident in Spanish class from a fellow black student, and the events have been whispered about from black student to black student. I checked facebook that morning and saw many comments and statuses--some angry, some resigned, some shocked, and some vowing to fight this with dignity and class; after all, whoever perpetrated this wants us to be mad and angry about this. I received two emails about what transpired--one from the President of LBC and another from the chancellor:

To whom it may concern,

On behalf of the Legion of Black Collegian Black Student Government I would like to say that we are completely disheartened by the events that have taken place early this morning. For those who are unaware cotton balls were scattered throughout the front area of the Gaines/Oldham Black Culture Center. Reports of the cotton balls were sited as early as 8am this morning. Some students claim to have seen two white males running around that Gaines/Oldham Black Culture Center suspiciously, as early as 1:30am. This statement has not been confirmed fact yet. The coordinator of the Gaines/Oldham Black Culture Center, Deniece Christian has notified the MUPD. They and staff of the Gaines/Oldham Black Culture Center are doing their best to get to the bottom of this terrible event. We don’t know much, but what we do know is that this type of prank or whatever it may be will not be tolerated and we as the Legion of Black Collegian, Black Student Government do not find this at all amusing. We will do all in our power to find out who is responsible. We also will make sure that this event does not go unheard. Our Mission as LBC is to be the leading Black voice on campus by eradicating ignorance and promoting positive change through education, motivation, and advocacy for black students at Mizzou. We will not let our mission statement be spoken in vain, especially during the event that took place today. We as the Legion of Black Collegian will take immediate action on this event by first calling a town hall meeting for EVERYONE to attend. This meeting will be designed to express our feeling and create a plan of action. This Meeting will be held Monday March 1st, 2010 at 5:00pm Sharp. We are also thinking of some type of protest beginning early Monday so please keep your eyes open for that. It seems to us that the campus that we call home to all our academic endeavors has students that still do not respect their fellow students, and this is not just a problem for minorities on campus, this is a problem for our campus as a whole. I, as President of the Legion of Black Collegians Black Student Government, have taken these actions personally, and will not stop asking question, questioning administration, and protesting until a solution has been created. We are too progressive of a nation and a university to still see issues of this nature still taking place. If not settled by this message, be settled by the fact that this incident will be resolve. I give you my word. Just keep high hopes, and remember do not act out in initial anger. Be upset, be disgusted, but keep your composure and react to this situation as the outstanding men and women that you are. I would also like to say that I am extremely pleased by all the support we have been given by our senate, umbrella organizations, and students of the University of Missouri. This is a time where we must through our past difference away attack the issue at hand. I am happy to see we all have our priorities in order.

Sincerely,
Anthony Lawrence Martin, President of the Legion of Black Collegians

and:

To the MU Community:

In today’s early morning hours, a disheartening and inexcusable act was committed on our campus when cotton balls were strewn at the front entrance to our Gaines/Oldham Black Culture Center. Those guilty of this despicable action have not yet been identified, but MUPD became involved immediately and is conducting an investigation. This university is fully committed to tolerance and respect for every one of its members, and this kind of conduct will not be tolerated. I urge anyone who has information related to this crime to contact the MU Police Department immediately at 882-7201. I also ask you to join me in expressing your own individual concern and support to the members of our community who were the apparent targets. I have been informed that the Legion of Black Collegians is calling a Town Hall Meeting for Monday at 5 p.m., location to be determined.

MU celebrates the diversity of our community. This morning’s behavior offends us all.

Brady J. Deaton

Chancellor

I am intrigued to see who will be at this town hall besides the black students who are kind of obligated to care. I think of the black students who intentionally alienate themselves from the other black students on this campus and wonder if they feel ashamed, if they will pretend like it never happened instead of going and encouraging their white friends to join them? Hate should not be something that the offending group is expected to deal with on their own, it should be something that we all care about. I expect that there will be larger non-black turnout than at the "black events" because this deals with blatant racism and college kids love being "liberal." I will be going, in addition to encouraging all of my friends to go--I don't really have to encourage my black friends as they're the "conscious" type, but I will make it my job to ask my white and other POC friends about going. And if they say no, I will ask why, because any excuse other than, "I have work/a paper/class" etc is not a valid one.

I wasn't surprised when I heard about this. I guess it's easy to think, "oh" when you immerse yourself in things like this everyday. With the recent events at UCSD I am just kind of like...well, welcome to college. I remember the comment I left on the article at Racialicious about the "ghetto party" at UCSD, I'll copy and paste parts of it here:

Presently, fewer than 2% of UCSD students are black.

yikes, it’s hard to feel at home on a campus that’s 10% black–i can’t imagine how isolated those students must feel. well i can, but it must be 10x what i feel.

It’s unfortunate that no one had the foresight to see how planning such a party would be a slap in the face to the small number of African American students at UCSD.

i’m sorry, but i don’t give people like this the benefit of the doubt. this crap isn’t even subtle–it’s blatantly racist, it’s things they KNEW were wrong to do and chose to do anyway. i find it very, very hard to believe that they didn’t know it’d offend the black students on campus. in fact, i bet that was apart of the thrill. i’m tired of always making excuses for racists or trying to rationalize why they’re the way they are, no matter the age or supposed motives.

it’s so hard being one a few at a PWI, and while my friend circle is pretty diverse, i am eternally thankful for every person i count as a friend who “looks like me.” poc are always told to go out and make friends white people–we always have to put in extra effort, smile more, talk with no accent, look harmless, and it still doesn’t do anything half the time. what do we get for our effort, for just trying to live and get an education? ghetto parties!

Less than a day later I had my POV reinforced. As a black student, I can never forget that I am black first. I don't get too comfortable around anyone of another race even if I consider them a friend, and I find it very, very important to be involved in a black organization (shout-out to National Association of Black Journalists) and have black friends. A couple of days ago I ate lunch with a group of 5 black women and we discussed parties, schoolwork, and natural hair. As I was the only one at the table with natural hair I answered a lot of questions and kept repeating "BGLHONLINE" and saying that it's very easy to take care of. I was shocked by the, "everyone is going natural, I think I need to as well!" sentiment--but it was awesome. It's important to be able to have these discussions and not always be so kosher, in my opinion.

I'm currently writing an English paper on Nelson Mandela and how his peaceful resistance relates to Thoreau's Civil Disobedience. With that in mind, I will take the route of being proactive without lower myself to the level of those who committed this act against myself and other black students. Growing up in the country doesn't make you ignorant just as growing up in a metropolitan city doesn't make you open-minded. The same can be said for hate; getting revenge and becoming bitter doesn't win any fights, but rather talking about it and letting the school know we will not stand for this does.

Someone on the Racialicious site wrote that because of what happened at UCSD, she no longer wanted to attend the school. While I have no idea what the racial climate is like at the school (and it also has significantly less black students and organizations to help those who are there) I do know what it's like at mine. And while it's not perfect, I hope that no student who hears of this incident let's it be the deciding factor in if they decide to attend this university or not. I came for the journalism school, but I love the people I have met, and the experiences I am having. Yes, there is ignorance to combat and sometimes it gets frustrating and I just want to say fuck this--it is still all worth it, and I wouldn't want to be anywhere else. Every time something like this happens and someone lets it turn them away, that's letting the ignorance win. I am a proud Tiger, and it is things like this that make me even more determined and sure that I deserve to be here.

Corinne Bailey Rae - "Paris Nights/New York Mornings"

2010-02-22T02:39:00.003-06:00

This song was my immediate favorite from the new album, and I love how the concept is perfect for the song and what was in my head. Corinne looks gorgeous, I admire this woman so much.

Shut the Fuck Up, John Mayer

2010-02-11T15:03:00.006-06:00

sorry to assault your eyes, even if it is to make fun of John Mayer.

I am a huge John Mayer fan. I've been a fan of the man since I was 10 years old, and I turned 19 in January. His sappy, angsty, soft-rock speaks to me, and I can quote him better than I ever could Spanish verbs. While I own every single John Mayer album from the live albums to rare recordings, I am not afraid to admit that his transition to Ultra Douche has been swift and sad. Anyone whose been a fan from the start will attest to his douchiness--I don't know any John Mayer fan who will deny it. However, I could always write it off as him seeking attention and not knowing what to do with suddenly being famous about being that Lame Guy in the Back for so long. Yes he is an asshole, yes he makes stupid fucking comments all the times, and yes he is a raging misogynist. However, I could listen to his old stuff (Room For Squares and Any Given Thursday are the only two recordings from him truly worth anything, and that says a lot considering he's released a lot since then. Battle Studies is complete crap) and imagine him as this truly romantic guy looking for love, who'd just been screwed a lot.

His recent comments (I linked to both sites because they are two of my favorites and the comments are interesting in their similarities and differences) however, cannot be overlooked. I wasn't living in some make believe world believing John Mayer was into black women. It's obvious from his music that he isn't--and really, that's OK. There's nothing wrong with being attracted to your own race almost exclusively, most people are. I loved his music because I could relate to it, and because I'm a girl and he makes "chick music." Now, if Shia LaBeouf said he wasn't into black women at all I might cry in my bed for a few days but I don't expect him to, there was a post on Racialicious awhile ago about this but you can tell when a celeb is "down with the swirl" and Shia made the list. He's made a few comments about "reverse racism" that made me want to smack him upside the head, but I'm getting off track. When Mayer sings about "porcelain skin / hair falling in face" and "your cheeks a shade of pink, the rest of you in powder blue" I knew he wasn't singing about anyone who looks even vaguely like me.

But referring to his dick as "a white supremacist," talking about "nigger passes," and talking about what he (imagines) "being black" to be like was just too fucking much. There's just something so skeevy and oblivious about those comments that makes me sick. He then has this to say about Kerry Washington: "And Kerry Washington. She's superhot, and she's also white-girl crazy. Kerry Washington would break your heart like a white girl. Just all of sudden she'd be like, "Yeah I sucked his dick. Whatever." And you'd be like, "What? We weren't even talking about that."

Wait, what?! I mean, seriously...what? Is he saying that Kerry (a lovely, lovely...superhot, lady) would use tactics white women commonly use? Instead of busting the windows out his car she'd cheat and then relay the story to him, talk about how good it was an how liberating it was, how the other man was great at something but how she still wanted him? A la "Love is Blind" by Amy Winehouse. I thought that was just being manipulative, not a gender or race thing--but wait, it's John Mayer.

What's offensive about his comments is his complete lack of awareness, and that he thinks having "black friends" gives him some kind of a "black pass." He knows nothing about blackness, and his trying to be "edgy" and "push the envelop" fails miserably. His most recent Twitter updates are self-pitying and frankly, I just rolled my eyes at them. I unchecked all of his songs on itunes and I don't know when I'll be able to listen to them again despite loving many of them so much--he is my favorite artist, after all.

At his most recent concert he gave a "choked-up" apology. My thoughts? A little too late, asswipe.

Whose Sexuality Is It, Anyway?

2010-02-07T15:33:00.001-06:00

This post was originally intended for my tumblr but after the first couple of paragraphs I felt like it might get a little too heavy for my audience there. So I decided to bring it Revolution Grl, where honesty (and even heavy) is always my policy :).

No woman is ever completely in control of her sexuality.

I am still trying to wrap my head around this, still trying to figure out what this means for me and who I am. As a womanist, I spend a great deal of time thinking about my sexuality and the lens through which others view it. I'm 19 years old and still trying to figure out my own sexuality--how I want to express it, explore it, what it is I like, and I truly feel like there is nothing wrong with this. But I have so many conflicting outside sources that make this hard for me.

It's a well-known fact that guys are allowed to do whatever the fuck they want sexually--it's called, "boy will be boys" for them. The exact opposite is expected of girls--if you like sex don't talk about it and if you do expect to be someone's fuck buddy but never his wife. Has he slept with 20 girls? It's OK! he's still a great catch and you should chalk it up to him doing what guys do, ok? Good! Of course this isn't the thought of every single individual on Earth--definitely not my thoughts, but it is one that is ingrained in society at large no matter how much people would like to deny it. "Manwhore" is a cutesy, funny word meant to be taken lightly--a whore is a whore.

But here is where things get tricky for me. As a black woman, there's all these crazy minefields to wade through. I am a complex being: I can be dramatic, I'm sensitive and shy, I'm intelligent, I have a great sense of humor, and sometimes I can even be cute! I adore my dog and my mother is my best friend, when I really like an artist or band I will listen to them on repeat for days before finally moving on and revisiting them weeks or months later. I don't take compliments well, I think I am more than a little awkward, and it's hard for me to make friends because I am slightly paranoid and have this intense fear of being rejected for all of the little quirks I love about myself.

Society has this knack of turning all these things around and making them something else. When I am being dramatic and funny it's seen as me being sassy (*insert snaps and neck rolling*), when I am shy and quiet, surveying my surroundings it's seen as me being some bitchy black chick who has an attitude problem, and when I am sensitive and display emotion or crying, I am ignored or told to stop doing that or to "get over it, that's life." I've had people act surprised at my intelligence, as if the fact that I am sitting in a class with them is not proof enough that I want to learn or--shit, maybe I even like doing so. It's infuriating and it's demeaning, to feel like less than.

I've had men say things to me they would never say to their girlfriends, or make presumptions about the kind of person I am or my sexual habits because of things I can help--like my breasts or my lips or the shape of my body. I've been told, "I bet black girls are better in bed" and while I used to would maybe laugh passive aggressively at this, I know get angry--really angry, and ask, "do you think we're wild? That we like a good time and that we lack the emotions of other women to want a real relationship, a call back? Fuck you!" and it is then that these same men shrink back and tell me I'm reading too much into a compliment, or that I just got "angry" for no reason (no reason, right.) And then there are the men who like my shyness, who think that underneath it I am just hiding some wild, oversexed vixen, not realizing that I am a person.

Sometimes I think white women forget this--when they are fighting for their feminism and to not be seen as wilting flowers who need protecting. They forget that there are little girls who are expected to behave as women by the time they start their periods; that there are women whose virtue and honor has never been of any importance; that there are women who've been made to feel that they are only good for one thing and then go back to being marginalized by society. They even adopt the views of a lot their male counterparts when it comes to black female sexuality--exoticing things about us we simply cannot help and making it something "bad" (I mean, who wants a big ass?! Or full lips? How gross--wait, Kim Kardashian and Angelina Jolie are hot! /eye fucking roll.) I understand feminism and their fight, and while it is similar to my fight as a womanist in the vaguest of ways, they are still too very different fights. Black women never had to fight for the right to work and still raise families--we were never given any other choice. When early feminists were lunching and having tea about their plight, black women lurked around the background, pouring that tea and tending to screaming children.

This post has became less about women being in control of their sexuality and more about me being pissed off that I am not allowed one simple right: to be seen as a person. How hard is that to do? I'm not asking for much--not much at all, in fact, I'm asking for something everyone loves to rave about, individuality! But I feel like as long as I am a black woman in America I will never be allowed that right. I am so excited to do my study abroad in London (junior year!!!) at least then I get to be American first, individual second, and black as an awesome added bonus. It'll be nice for the first time in my life.

"Racism isn't a serious charge, it's a lived reality."

2010-02-04T14:28:00.007-06:00

Hello, hello, hello, it's been awhile...or at least it feels that way. Currently I am sitting in Starbucks stressing out over my huge workload this semester and thinking of ways to stay afloat and stay sane--it's not fun, or easy. I moved dorms and I like my new roommate a lot, although there's also some things that rub me the wrong way and that I'm hoping we don't clash over the course of this semester about--but that's a different blog and one I don't have time for. I am currently downloading Corinne Bailey Rae's The Sea as a late birthday present to myself, since I never got my cupcakes and saw Avatar in 3D (stunning CGI, tired plot.)

Last night I went to a dialogue about race sponsored by university, it was called "Racial Disparity" and while it was a relatively small group of people (about 15 or so) it was incredibly interesting, and also got heated. I won't go into the whole discussion but will highlight some things that stuck out to me:

A black professor was assertive in her defense of herself after a white male (who'd been derailing the discussion the entire time and throwing around cliched sayings like, "racism is a serious charge") put words in her mouth--everyone disagreed with him and was on her side. He accused her of getting "emotional" and "talking over him." One of the moderators, a Chinese man, asked us about stereotypes we knew about Asian people. The white guy answered all the while making excuses for it, and the Asian guy kind of laughed and said, "thanks for saying so much, although I'm still not understanding what you meant." I answered and gave all the positive stereotypes, and then took this as an opportunity to call the white guy out on his racism. I mentioned how he equated "assertive" from a black woman with "emotional" and "over talking" yet listened quietly and patiently to the Asian man. I asked him if subconsciously this was him making her fit the stereotype he already had of a black woman in his mind (loud, angry, etc) and the professor thanked me for that observation and went further into how he made her feel. She was a lovely woman, and gave me her cards telling me any time I needed to come to her office and talk, she was there.
There was a white guy there who is one of the most fantastic anti-racist activists I have ever met in my life. It was like at 20 years old he'd examined his privilege inside out, and had given up as much of it as he could while still being aware that he would always be the best 3 things in the world: white, straight, and male. I didn't know how I felt about agreeing with every single word he spoke, feeling like he somehow knew exactly how I felt; I know that sometimes a problem with white anti-racists is that to get anyone to listen they must speak for minorities, but I just couldn't help wanting to cry. He is the only white person who has ever practiced what they preached, and said "we must listen to minorities when they speak." However, I was so moved by him that when I got back to my dorm I looked him up on facebook, and was not surprised to see that his facebook default picture were black athletes at the Olympics doing the Black Power sign of solidarity, that his girlfriend is Ethiopian, nor that his favorite books are autobiographies/biographies of black people and those examining race and white privilege.
I kept reiterating that racism isn't people burning crosses and wearing hoods. I kept reiterating that it can be asking a black person "what area" are they from within a larger city while not asking a white person, because you assume they are from the suburbs. It's addressing a black woman with, "hey, girllll" while rolling your neck and being "sassy." It can be asking every white person to donate to charity, while not even making eye contact with the non-white person who comes up right behind them. Too many white people think "racism isn't that bad" because their definition of it is blatant--KKK, skinheads, the word "nigger" when for people of color, it is an everyday, uncomfortable lived reality.
A few people there kept using the term "African American" to describe every black person they'd ever come in contact with. I gently corrected them stating that many people from Africa do not like being called that, and that there are black Latinos who (like Africans) have a distinct culture that isn't Afro-American. I used Zoe Saldana--someone who identifies as black Latino as an example of this, and many people there seemed not only curious about the diversity of black folks but downright surprised. One guy even said, "I guess from now on I should just...ask?" Yeah, maybe. My mother doesn't like being called African-American (doesn't matter if it's black or Af-Am to me) because she's 400 years from Africa, and that's her right. The same guy who said he should ask from now on was someone who earlier asked if the term "black" was offensive, which further prompted me to bring this up. The professor I mentioned in my first point also took the opportunity to tell the group that she is an Afro-Latino of Puerto Rican descent, which brought about more questions--it amazes me how people are so quick to homogenize black people.
The Chinese man in the group asked why was the conversation so black/white, something I'd noticed but knew as an anti-racist it wasn't my place to bring up--to speak on behalf of others. But I did take that time to sincerely apologize for Americans (he is from China)--especially Americans from the middle states--to make everything black/white. I told him I was not looking to pretend like his experiences weren't real or important, and that I was deeply sorry. He accepted my apology and he and I chatted afterward and he told me he admired me and that if I had any suggestion for future topics to please email the coordinator (who I also talked with about a dialogue on Inclusion vs Diversity.)
Early in the discussion two of the guys mentioned how they have, "a lot of black friends." Pretty much every black person in the room gave each other a look, and the professor gently explained to him why starting a comment with, "I have a lot of black friends..." can actually make one seem more race conscious than just giving their opinion on something. The guys were very receptive and asked questions, and one of them even stayed after to talk with her about how to be more aware of how black students on this campus may feel in certain situations (the other gave her a sincere thank you for her insight and opinions.) They both have a long way to go, but I get the feeling they will at least try unlike the other guy who attacked, attacked, attacked and brought up, "if you knew me, you'd know I'm not racist!"--all this talking, no listening.
Doing the whole discussion I was aware of my tone. While I made sure to get my point across, I also spoke in a quiet, soft voice as not to be accused of being "emotional" when I was simply being. The professor mentioned how while the white male who accused her of being "emotional" wanted it to be a safe space for him, he did not care if it were one for her. At times I worried I came off as too meek, but when people looked at me and nodded at my comments, and the moderators held further discussions with me once the event had ended, I knew I'd gotten across exactly what I'd meant to say.

All in all, it was a truly wonderful, eye opening experience. I love to openly and honestly discuss race, and I love when I am afforded an opportunity and platform to do so. I left feeling like a load had been lifted from my shoulders, and also with even more to contemplate and think about. I am constantly growing and evolving as a person, how I handle situations and other people--especially those vastly different from me in background and ideology. And now, I am off to psych.

P.S. It seems like this blog turned into a very long summary of the discussion, haha.

HAPPY 19TH BIRTHDAY TO ME!!!

2010-01-24T00:44:00.005-06:00

19 years ago on this very day I was born! I am blessed to be alive and have wonderful family and friends. My facebook wall hasn't gotten this much love in...ever! As I always do on my birthday on my blog (this is my first birthday at Revolution Grl, woot!) here is a pic of me at six:

And recent:

Ah, I am definitely getting old. This is the first time I've ever looked at the kid picture and the recent picture and thought I looked different.

Apart of Your (White) World

2010-01-13T17:10:00.002-06:00

I found this to be hilarious, especially the parts about "Schwinn bikes" and "off-beat dancing", haha!

On a far less funnier note, as more and more unfolds about Haiti I find myself wishing there were more I can do than just retweet as much information as possible and make facebook status updates about it. My favorite relief organization has to be Yele Haiti, which is run by Wyclef Jean. Just by texting "Yele" to 501501 you can donate $5 that will automatically be charged to your next cellphone bill. It's not much, but it was so easy and I felt better than just sitting around, wish I could do something. Thoughts and prayers to all those in Haiti and those who have family there.

"You're Pretty for a Black Girl"

2010-01-08T02:30:00.012-06:00

random pretty lady I found on google.

OK so I'd never gotten that "pretty for a black girl" thing I always thought it was because I 1) didn't run into idiots who used well-known fail pickup lines and because 2) I look like a "really regular black chick." There's nothing exceptional about me warranting such a "compliment." I was pretty grateful, because I think it's such a silly thing and I really had no idea how I'd react in such a situation, and I truly thought I would never find out. Until tonight.

I met some guy, said guy and I are talking on the phone getting to know one another, fifteen minutes into the conversation he goes, "you're really a rare breed, you know that?" The term "rare breed" threw me off but I let it slide thinking he was going to tell me I'm "different from other girls" because I'm, "easy to talk to and like normal stuff"--you know, the usual. Instead he goes onto say, "I find most black girls to be ugly. Like, have you ever watched porn? All the girls in the black porn are disgusting and it just really turns me off and that's just my opinion on that. I think you're really cute though, and that's not the usual for me at all." My stomach actually turned as I typed this.

I didn't know what to say. I'd read about this happening before, but in all the articles I'd read the authors just talked about how it'd made them feel like crap, not what they said back. And maybe it's because they reacted like me; maybe it's because they just kind of sat there and then said, "oh." When I said that he said, "oh?" as if he didn't understand why I'd say oh. And I realized that in his mind he truly did not see anything at all wrong with that statement--not comparing me to an animal, not calling black women "disgusting", and certainly not the fact that his point of reference to measure my attractiveness was porn.

It's like, what do you expect me to look like when you're comparing me to the women you see in porn? Porn isn't real, and it's scary that he obviously doesn't have the mental capacity to figure this out--he's the kind of person who thinks all vaginas should look like the ones in porn, and that sex is really like that. I called two of my friends and told them about this once I'd extracted myself from the conversation. One of my friends--the one who primarily dates white guys and has only ever had one black boyfriend ("I was hesitant about him in the first place, like, why is this black guy talking to me?") didn't see a problem, and said he was just trying to give a well meaning compliment. The second friend, who does not primarily date any race of guys, agreed with me that it was a shitty thing to say. "I mean, how is black porn different from white porn, really? It's probably not the faces he doesn't like as much as the bodies and everything being so black. That's what he really finds disgusting, and that's the reason it's not made for him." And she was probably right.

I reacted to the situation all wrong. I once read an article that said this should be an "educating moment" and while I have since given up on educating white people who aren't actively anti-racist in some way, maybe I should've said something. As much as I hate to admit this, I spend so much time not wanting to be the "angry black chick" that I sometimes don't say how I really feel. Like, I knew I couldn't bring myself to say, "oh, thanks!" to something like that but at the same time I couldn't--wouldn't--say, "so you've never turned on a tv? You're telling me you don't think Gabrielle Union is pretty? Or even fucking Rihanna or Beyonce, every white guy's favorite "hot black chicks"? Not even them? The only black women you've ever come in contact with before me were the ones in...porn?" No, instead I chose that murky in-between that is, "oh." Most of my friends--the ones who don't know me very well, at least, would describe me as, "funny, nice, and shy." And when you're a black woman one wrong move and you become, "angry, bitter, and sensitive." I've become that quickly to many people just for speaking my mind in a way that any other person would, but usually would not be judged for. So when I work so hard just to be seen as something "neutral", sometimes the scariest thought is giving that up. There's even a small part of me that expected him to have half a brain when it came to racial sensitivity given that he is Jewish, but my friend said I shouldn't expect something like that to extend beyond his experiences as a Jew. Maybe I give others too much credit, or maybe she expects too little.

This same guy also talked about how he considers himself, "a feminist" and that, "unless I'm really horny I tend to think like a girl. Like, I'm a woman stuck in a guy's body." He also fed me some (hilarious) line about, "I mean, I really do believe that women are far superior beings to men." Or at least the ones he doesn't find to be disgusting. I didn't even touch on how he'd managed to call me a "rare breed", infer that black women are inferior, and compare me to the women he sees in porn, all in one conversation.

Oddly enough, I'm not angry. When I first realized that all was not fair and equal in the world and really started to explore anti-racism (almost a year ago--wow, it hasn't been long at all!) I would've been so pissed off about this. I would've thought it was how all white people think (although it probably does represent the thought processes of most white men, sadly) and I probably would've applied something like this to every white person. But that initial stage of, "WOW people are REALLY racist!" has since worn off and I am just wary and annoyed. Everything is a learning experience, and maybe next time I will say more than just "oh."

In other news I'm going to go to bed and stop staring at how adorable my dog looks sleeping under my sleeping bag and atop a pile of dirty clothes--lol sorry, not much laundry to wash over break ;D. It's 8 below outside and snowing!
<3,

-r.g.

hair!!! (update)

2009-12-29T19:42:00.006-06:00

Here is my hair exactly one week before the braids, 11/15:

and here Fro Fro is today (my friend Jean told me that I shouldn't personify my hair, but I just love that name. Fro Fro. So it's not original, so what!

I wish I had better pictures, but I left my USB cord for my camera at school and so I can only use my macbook, but even so--she's grown so much! I don't know why I didn't think to bring my shampoo, conditioner and shea butter as I'm afraid to use anything else on her, but I'm so in awe. I love my hair, even if I need to wash it.

Interracial Dating Isn't That Easy

2009-12-29T03:57:00.003-06:00

The random hot model couple in that image I found on google are cute, right? Anyway, I've kind of been MIA for awhile and it's because my "date" was a total failure and I spent the whole time dodging a tongue down my throat amongst other things. I haven't felt like blogging because my personal life has been in disarray, I let some things happen that at the moment seemed like a good idea, and I have just been trying to make sense of a lot of things going on. I didn't feel in the mood to blog about anything pertaining to society or anyone else's life when I couldn't even seem to keep mine in order. I'm still pissed about some of the things that went down even though I was a consenting adult but thanks to my friends and venting to anyone who'll listen, I'm feeling a lot better. OK, enough about that.

There's been another article about Single Black Women and with it the comments that come every time this is brought up. Everything has already been discussed over and over (some women don't want to get married, not everyone is heterosexual, etc) but one of the things I've been wanting to discuss for awhile but haven't really known how is interracial dating. Unsurprisingly, there have been those who came out in support of black women "expanding their options" and looking outside of the "Nothing But a Black Men" thinking--or whatever. There's nothing wrong with that--interracial dating is a great thing, as noted in previous articles I've had my own issues with discerning when I am attracted to someone because of a genuine personality or the "Otherness" of it. The mess I got myself in last week was a date with a white dude, so I'm not going to sit here and say I'm not down with interracial dating. However, some of the ideas behind the push to get black women to interracial date overlook a lot of key issues. I know interracial dating can mean a whole lot of things, but for my sanity's sake I'll keep this black/white.

There are a lot of people who say white men aren't attracted to black women, that's a lie. However, I've noticed that a lot of this "attraction" isn't really that at all but fetishism and the idea that a black woman's body is not her own. I've had plenty of white guys start up seemingly normal conversations with me--about our love for a certain musical artist, about something as mundane as the weather or my earrings, and by the end of the conversation he's moved on to making uncomfortable comments about my lips and/or butt. Sure, everyone likes a compliment here and there, but when race is involved you constantly have to question if this is a compliment or someone seeing you only as a stereotype. When all of your past girlfriends look like Ashley Tisdale (she's the first bland celeb I could think of), I'm inclined to be wary of your intentions, sorry. I've had a white guy ask me if I'm, "too wild in bed for most guys" when I was at the grocery store in jeans, a t-shirt, and a coat. It makes you question if there's this "easy" vibe you're giving off that you weren't aware you had, and then you just realize it's them overlooking everything about you except the color of your skin, the curves of your body, and the fact that they feel entitled. It's infuriating, and I can understand why so many women wouldn't want to put themselves through that.

The argument that black men understand black women on a level that other men simply don't unless they are truly genuinely interested in black women isn't an empty one. Sure, all men can be deceiving and tell lies to get what the want, but I am less inclined to believe that a black guy is going to start up some false conversation with me only to end it wondering if having sex with a black girl is like he imagined. I don't have to worry about him only seeing my as a sexual object (unless he's just a jerk), or if his interest is truly in me as a person or what he thinks I have to offer sexually. There's no awkward conversations about culture, food, or hair, there's no landfill to mine about what is OK to say and what's not OK on both ends, and sometimes that kind of familiarity is nice.

I probably sound really bitter right now, and maybe I am. I'm sure there are plenty of black women who've had positive experiences dating interracially (I follow many of their blogs, after all) and not all of the white guys who hit on me are complete creeps who make me want to shower for a month straight. But I just get so tired of the black and white view about interracial dating for black women as if there's no gray area; I just don't think it's so easy to go out and do something when there are so many other factors that go into that decision.

I feel like I've barely scraped the surface with this topic (I could probably devote a blog entry to each factor, lol), and that might because it's almost 5am and my thoughts are still kind of jumbled. Oh well, I've got all the time in the world between now and January 19th when I am not watching Criminal Minds and thinking Shemar Moore and Matthew Gray Gubler have the cutest big brother/little brother relationship. I've become one of those people who sleeps, eats Doritos, and watches TV all day while on break...and I love it. Maybe I'll actually get around to blogging about the topics I said I would two months ago--I have a lot to say about the supposed Nice Guy.

<3,
-r.g.

lessons learned + music

2009-12-24T05:26:00.003-06:00

It’s hard to believe this time, hard to believe

That my heart, my heart’s an open door…

You got all you came for, baby

I love her so much. I feel selfish for being able to relate to this song so much right now when she wrote it for her husband 2 months before his death. But I do relate to it--although, I don't think I would do it all again which is silly considering that's the recurrent theme of the song...that she wouldn't change of thing. But oh well, so happy she's back! Can't wait to buy the new album Feb. 2nd. I'm such an um, "stan."

Anyway, I've gotten myself into the kind of mess I always thought I was too smart for. Maybe this is just a reality check, a kind of humbling that no one should ever think they are so much better/above a situation. Because no one is. I don't feel much like Revolution Grl, more just like "girl." Maybe that's the whole point...that I am just a girl.

2009-12-22T12:47:00.002-06:00

I am going on a hiatus from blogging, and probably the internet in general for awhile. I have a lot of things to deal with in regard to my personal life and some of the decisions I've been making.

until,
-revolution girl

2009-12-17T21:23:00.002-06:00

I have a date on Saturday, my first date ever. Here's to hoping it goes well and I don't:

a. cancel
b. ruin it by talking about Harry Potter and other such things I tend to do when I am nervous
c. other

Winter

2009-12-15T17:55:00.003-06:00

So, I start Winter Break on Thursday at 10am and I've been a pretty good mood for the last two weeks. In fact, the last four weeks have been pretty great--maybe it's because it's December. I'm usually not a big fan of winter, but for some reason I have been adoring it this year. When I'm not enjoying the warmth of my dorm room and studying for finals (heh) I'm out with my friends enjoying all life has to offer...the simple things, that is. I don't mind the cold so much in my coat, scarves, gloves, and boots. I enjoy winter playlists quite a bit, and one of my favorite artists is John Mayer, whose earlier music reminds me quite a bit of winter.

When I was 10-years-old, I discovered John Mayer's music. It was back when he was just a boy from Connecticut with a dream, and not the ladies man he is today who lives up to his reputation as a dbag and gets expensive haircuts and wears spiffy clothes. Back before he made songs with a catchy chorus that repeats the line, "who says I can't get stoned?" When I was 12 he released the live two-disc CD and DVD Any Given Thursday, which solidified my love for him as my favorite artist. To this day it is still my favorite album and although his music gets progressively shitty and doesn't have nearly as much heart as it used to, he is still my favorite artist. Probably always will be, if only because I remember spending hours in the winter lying on my floor after-school, in the dark, and letting his music fill my room as loud as it would go.

So, here are some of my favorite John Mayer songs, in order of adoration:

Note: Haha! Conan looks way different back then.

A Very Revolution Grl Kind of Christmas

2009-12-11T14:50:00.005-06:00

So if my calculations are correct, I get 60 visitors to this blog per month, which means that as I update someone might be on this page! Because of that, I know that there might be someone out there who'd like to download a song or two from my Christmas playlist (or all 21) and so here is my Christmas present to you, visitors! A few of the songs are more winter based than Christmas specific, but a great majority are Christmas songs. The songs are uploaded individually :) And for anyone who celebrates Chanukah and/or Kwanzaa and is reading this--I love you, too!

Tracklisting
1. "Sleigh Ride" - Relient K
2. "Christmas In Hollis" - Run DMC
3. "I Wish You Love" - Rachael Yamagota
4. "Christmas Rappin" - Kurtis Blow
5. "This Christmas" - Donny Hathaway
6. "Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays" - *NSYNC
7. "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas" - Relient K
8. "Let It Snow" - Boyz II Men
9. "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas" - Coldplay
10. "Snowfall" - Ingrid Michaelson
11. "Merry Christmas, Baby" - Stevie Wonder
12. "Last Christmas" - Wham!
13. "Santa Baby" - Eartha Kitt
14. "The Christmas Song" - Christina Aguilera
15. "Winter Wonderland" - Aretha Franklin
16. "Baby, It's Cold Outside" - Ella Fitzgerald & Louis Jordan
17. "Covered In Rain" - John Mayer
18. "Christmas Tree" - Lady Gaga
19. "All I Want For Christmas Is You" - Mariah Carey
20. "Winter '05" - Ra Ra Riot
21. "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus" - Jackson 5
folder link

"Why Didn't Tiger Screw Black Chicks??" (And Other Things)

2009-12-09T22:04:00.006-06:00

I know, I know--I said I didn't care about the Tiger Woods scandal. However, it's been pushed in front of my face so much that I...I...am kind of tickled by it. It just goes to show that NO ONE is perfect, and no one should be idolized. I never really thought about Tiger Woods before last week, after all I was only 6 when he made the infamous "Cablasian" comment so I never went through a phase of going, "wow...dude hates that black part of him" I was always just...indifferent. I don't speak for all black people, but I think a good majority of us really don't give a fuck about Tiger Woods. When I talk to the people I know of different races about Tiger Woods, they all have a similar reaction. Everyone kind of laughs and goes, "what an idiot." It's not like the Taylor Swift/Kanye West incident, where the white people declared he was the Axis of Evil and wrote him off (even the ones who'd loooooooved him) yet the black people would say, "yeah, Kanye is ignorant as hell but he's still dealing with some things and it needs to be let go." No--with Tiger black people see him just like they see any other celebrity who messed up--there is no sympathy, no solidarity, nothing.

But what frightens me is that this is not a sign that black people are learning not every black person ever needs our support. No, it just means that because he rejected us and did everything to distance himself from black people, we are letting him sit out in the sun until his skin peels. If Tiger Woods had volunteered with some black charities, took pictures with little black children, didn't make racist jokes--anything--black people would be right there fighting the shady fight with him. Marrying a white chick? No one would care as long as he didn't hate anything and everything black. A prime example is O.J. Simpson--sure, he murdered his ex-wife and her friend, but black people stood behind because he was black. I was way too young (three to be exact) to know specifically about O.J.'s relationship to the black community, but from reading I know it wasn't that great. I think that if O.J. could say he was anything but black he would've, but he couldn't and that worked in his favor when it came time for his trial.

Another example of this is R. Kelly. Despite a copious amount of proof that R. Kelly peed on an 13-year-old girl, he was proven not guilty and his fans stood behind him throughout it all. The black community stood behind him--the radio stations continued to play his music and there was a gross amount of victim blaming that went on. I love the episode of The Boondocks titled "The Trial of R. Kelly" if only because it is so woefully spot on.

Some people are claiming that the black community has a problem with Tiger for choosing to identify as multiracial as opposed to solely black...I don't agree. Ignoring the fact that black people didn't even come up with the One Drop Rule that continues to permeate society, blacks are historically known for accepting those of mixed heritage. Many of black thinkers throughout history have been those light enough to pass if they so choose, and people who, if their Wikipedia page didn't say so I wouldn't automatically know they were black. Alicia Keys, Barack Obama, Mariah Carey, and Halle Berry just to name a few off the top of my head are all people embraced fully by the black community who never shy away from discussing that they are 1/2 white.

Tiger would've been forgiven for marrying a white woman--it's not uncommon, but one cannot be forgiven for rejecting black people without even the slightest flinch, that's rule #1. It's one of those unspoken rules, like Fight Club: The #1 rule of being black in any way is that no matter what, you be proud of whatever part of you us black. Hell, even if you really aren't proud--at least acknowledge it sometimes! Don't disparage blackness or try to run as far away from it as possible.

Tiger saw that and proceeded to break rule #1 with a smile on his face--and now it's coming back to bite him in the ass. So while I don't think black people have learned our lesson of "not every black celebrity needs our support when they have CLEARLY done something wrong--IT IS BLACK AND WHITE, THERE ARE NOT GRAY AREAS--I am happy that we didn't do so in Tiger's case. And this might make me a bit of a bad person, but I laugh at every joke about his predicament that isn't related to domestic violence. Sue me, I'm human.

As for this entry's title...I have a huge problem with all this, "WHY WASN'T THERE A BLACK GIRL???!!111!" sentiment. Like, seriously?? How would cheating on the woman whose had 2 children with this man with a black woman suddenly make him OK in the eyes of many black people? Why would we condone this or even go, "woot!" over it? It seriously boggles my mind. Just because Tiger's father is black doesn't automatically give him a pass on the "black women are ok to fuck on the side and that's IT" card. I honestly don't even think Tiger sees himself as a person of color in any way--he probably believes he's "transcended race" or in the very least in "colorblindness." I equate him cheating with a black woman with some white man doing it and then shitting bricks at the thought of anyone ever finding out. If that is what would somehow make Tiger Woods' self-hate somehow OK in the eyes of black people, something is seriously wrong.

OK. I hope I've gotten this man and his tabloid drama out of my system and can study for my finals in peace, lol!

-revolution grl

Note: Also, I'd never really paid any kind of attention to Tiger Woods before this...erm, situation. However, after googling him all the time I think he's kind of cute. I know he doesn't like chocolate, but I cannot lie! I don't know, maybe him being a complete skeezeball who is also an idiot (no condoms? With pornstars?) has somehow made him more interesting and in turn a little attractive. Although he is officially not a cute nerdy guy but a "Nice Guy."

Finals...

2009-12-09T20:42:00.003-06:00

Finals all next week (last one Thursday morning, followed by me going home immediately!) I had my psych final yesterday and got a B, and Friday is my classical myth final--I will earn an A and nothing less. Next week I have Spanish (ugh...) and theatre. Woot! My first semester of college is almost over :)

Same Person, Different Hair

2009-12-07T01:33:00.005-06:00

My transition style is holding up pretty well for me, this is amazing for me considering I have a tendency to scratch and scratch and forgetting to wear my scarf after an initial 3 nights. I'm still scratching more than I'd like, but I'm excellent at tying my hair and experimenting with a lot of different styles. When I first got the pixie braids I said that I'd gotten a lot of compliments and that while they shocked me I was also pleased...however, as each day goes on I have more and more mixed feelings about it--and not necessarily in a good way.

I love my natural hair, and while I never really got positive or negative comments about it I figured other people were indifferent. After all, it's better to get no comments than shitty ones, right? I didn't think people treated me a certain way because of my hair, I thought no one noticed it. But now I am starting to wonder. And it's crossing racial barriers--I get a lot of similar reactions to the pixie braids from black and white people, both being more acceptable. A black girl in my classical mythology class gave me her phone number, went to workout with me, had dinner afterward, and invited me to a frat party. Whenever she introduced me to her other friends she'd say, "oh you've probably seen her around before but didn't recognize her--she's natural." And she'd say natural in this weird voice, like it was almost comical. And when she first saw my hair she told me how "cute" I looked, but was quick to add, "it's not like you weren't before, or anything..." but I knew what she meant.

And white people. All of the people in my dorm who avoid me like the plague are quick to acknowledge my existence for a few seconds to tell me that my hair is, "sooo cute!" and that, "you should totally keep this look." One of my roommates friends--a misogynist douchebag, told me "I like what you're doing with your hair" and it was so awkward, it's obvious he's not used to be ing decent to people. Everyday my roommate tells me how much she loves my hair, and how "I have to get used to the long hair!" and she told me I was "gorgeous" and asked me, "why don't you ever come out to parties with us? You totally should!" and I didn't remind her that she never asks and that she didn't become interested in me until I changed my hair. A guy friend of hers told me he liked my hair when I first got it done, and when he saw me tonight in the hall he said, "I really, really love your hair." People smile at me more when they see me in the hall or on the elevator, people pause to notice me. As if this has suddenly made me a person worthy of being treated like a human being.

I think it all comes down to a simple and obvious explaination: assimilation. Even though my hair is in hundreds of little braids, my roommate referred to it as "long hair." Black people and white people see my hair as something cutesy and nonthreatening. Even though my TWA was nothing more than MY HAIR in its natural form, it was somehow scary and intimidating because it is so different from everything society tells us is beautiful. By being a black woman and wearing my natural, nappy hair, I might as well have been wearing a sign that says "STAY AWAY." I got these braids so I could give my hair time to grow and not wash it so much/have moisture sucked out doing the coldest months of the year--I wasn't expecting anyone to notice. But to have people be so much warmer to me simply because my hair fits in more with their idea of beauty is frightening. To even be told, "you look so pretty with this hairstyle!" or "I almost didn't recognize you" is a barely veiled expression of, your natural hair is ugly. You are ugly by default. To suddenly be invited to eat dinner and go to parties with someone, or have my roommate invite me out with her and her friends one night (I had a terrible sore throat and said no--plus, I would be the most awkward thing ever) threw me for a whammy. It's the weirdest feeling to have people finally see the person I saw before, as if they can only now see my beauty.

The studies about people gravitating more to those whom they view "attractive" by society's standards? It's true. And it's fucking sad. I like to think that I am self-aware and love myself, and I'm still not going to get a relaxer, but now I'm contemplating getting the braids done again when I go home. I am just not ready to let go of the compliments and suddenly being seen as an interesting person (I had someone tell me this, too. But she hadn't met me before the braids--would she have thought the same, then?) I'm almost 19-years-old so I guess it makes sense that I would do things to gain me favor in the eyes of my peers. Even if I don't agree with it, everyone wants to know they have the option of being like everyone else. I just wish I were different...I thought I was different.

In life, it really is easier to be different but the same (hi, Ben Kweller!) I am learning that it takes a very strong person to go against the grain in every way and truly say, "fuck what society says!" I understand why so many people--even those who have brilliant minds and express themselves creatively and makes us think, still outwardly appear like everyone else. After all, it's easier to get people to listen to you and take you seriously when they like what they see. It's life, I guess--and to reiterate: it sucks.

Some Positivity (To Combat All That Negativity)

2009-12-03T23:00:00.003-06:00

This blog isn't a place for me to vent my anger at everything I deem wrong with the world. However--90% of my blogs with the exception of my occasion "quick updates on my life" seem to do exactly that. In my day to day I like to think I'm a joyous and positive person to be around--I care for and support those whom bring me joy deeply, I try to be a good person and not engage in things that I think are wrong and that go against my beliefs. I try to be the kind of person God would be proud of, the kind of person who will have lived life and not just wandered through it, and I want to take the time to reflect on a few things.

I came to school a middle of the road Agnostic. I was one of those people who couldn't imagine not believing in a Higher Power to blame on every bad event that happened in my life, yet at the same time I didn't believe much of what the churches I'd gone to throughout my life was telling me. I mean, I could respect the basic scripture and believing in God and Jesus being Lord and all of that, but some of that other stuff? No. My family on my mother and father's side are strong Baptists. Although we live in the Midwest a lot of the sermons are reminiscent of churches of the South (my mother's family is from Mississippi and my dad's New Orleans). I've always wanted to be the type of person who went to church every Sunday and committed to believing in The Word and not just going out of obligation. But the services were long and the pastor wordy, and while I like anecdotes that connect with sermon, I didn't like how after awhile it just became him talking about his family. I didn't like that service went over two hours, and what was really the last straw was the Mother's Day sermon that turned into a sermon of hate against gays. It's really hard being a liberal Christian, and while I love my Christian friends and how supportive they are, politics is something we just cannot discuss--it still boggles my mind, reconciling many of my beliefs with religion.

This year I got involved in a campus ministry through God. There's no other way to describe--it was a rainy fall night and I'd left my dorm to go get something to eat at a dining hall about 20 minutes away. I was getting ready to leave and come back to my dorm when two girls stopped me. They looked nice--smiling faces, saying hello and introducing themselves. One of them told me that she was with the ministry and that God had led her to talk to me. I was a bit skeptical, but receptive--I wanted to believe, I just needed to be proven wrong. She invited me to the worship service and gave me her number. I was nervous--and dragged my two good friends along with me (who are now also involved in the ministry) and found that I loved the service. I loved the atmosphere, the people, how welcoming everyone was, the songs, the word...everything. I love that it's focused on how God can enrich our lives and not how we can police the lives of others. Of course we are encouraged to spread the word, but we are not encouraged to judge harshly and condemn as if we are saints whom have never committed a sin--I know I'm not.

I've noticed that since joining this ministry and attending small group (once a week meetings for a couple of hours with 10-12 people from the ministry of the same sex) I'm becoming a better person, a better me. All the things that I've prayed for and those in small group are slowly but surely coming true, and I wrote this entry to affirm the Lord. Tonight at small group I said I wanted to work on thanking God for all the small wonderful things that happen in my life--not myself. An A on an exam? God's work, not mine. Going to bed on time and waking up as bright as sunshine? Him again!

This has been a good week, and earlier I'd said I was having, "muy suerte." But tonight I realized it wasn't luck at all, but God answering my prayers and guiding my life and my spirits to a better place. He's given me wonderful people as a support system, and I am so blessed to lead the life that I lead. I still like secular music more than I'll probably ever like gospel/worship music, I have a sense of humor that can be describe as anything but "clean", amongst many other vices. I am not nor will I ever be a perfect person, and sometimes I still find myself questioning God and religion--I'll probably do that for a long time to come. But I have more faith than I've ever had, and I am truly grateful to him. So here was a whole blog and not just a blurb dedicated to something good in my life, and I feel wonderful.

<3,>

I Don't Care About Tiger Woods

2009-12-02T16:04:00.002-06:00

I know, making a post about not caring about the Tiger Woods scandal is pretty much the equivalent to all the blogs and gossip sites who are devoting minute to minute updates on it (hey, Gawker!) But seriously, I don't care about Tiger Woods and I'm only making this update because I am saturated with this man and his business everywhere. I can't even go on CNN's website nor turn on the television without the "BREAKING NEWS" being Tiger Woods' 10,000th mistress coming out of the woodwork. CNN would probably cut short a story about a missing child to update us on the latest boring details of Tiger's affairs. And that, more than anything, is why I'm so annoyed--Tiger just happened to be the celebrity to push me over the edge. Sorry, dude.

I love celebrity gossip just as much as the next person. In fact, my friends make fun of me how for every person I see/meet, I comment on their celebrity doppelganger. I'm also the go to person for anything pop culture related, and while I read the headlines of gossip mags while in the store (never but them though--that's what the internet is for!) I don't like for everything in my life to focus on said gossip. There's (supposed to be) a difference between The YBF, Gawker, and TMZ and a news site like CNN. But when I've started going to the BBC website over CNN--something is wrong. When I watch CNN and hear more about Lindsay Lohan's latest drunken display of foolishness, problems in the Brangelina camp, and a whole segment with analysts dedicated to "why the Tiger Woods story is such big news", something. is. wrong.

But I do look forward to the shitty reality show featuring Tiger's mistresses (all 3+ of them) living in a rented mansion together while looking for ~~men to have sex with~~ love! I'm sure it'll come on network television in replace of an actual television show--cheaper to make. Hell, maybe it'll even replace a primetime news show since reality shows get higher ratings!

My First Protective Style!

2009-11-29T22:24:00.006-06:00

So something I do not like about my hair is that I've lost two (count it, 2!) sets of earrings. It's very annoying--they were pairs I liked a lot (one a pair of handmade turquoise hoops, the other huge black earrings from H&M.) It seems that only my left ear is being effected, but still what good is an earring with no mate? Maybe I'll find them, but I doubt it. I just know that if I lose my favorite silver earrings I'm going to be (even more) pissed. I think it's because I'm so used to my own short 'fro, and I'm constantly focused on making sure this hair isn't too much in the way/driving me crazy, my earrings are the last thing on my mind. I have a love/hate relationship with these bangs...

Since I've been back I've gotten a lot of compliments on my hair, and people not recognizing me (LOL.) I can appreciate the compliments even though 98% of this hair is not mine. The reason why I'm so receptive to them (and more than a little shocked, tbh) is because I feel that braided extensions and two-strand extensions are about the most natural a girl can be without wearing her hair natural. Afterall, when my hair grows out I plan on rocking braids (so I can do my braid-outs) and two-strands (so I can do my twist-outs, lol) all the time. It's not the same as getting whatever expensive Remy weave is being sold, nothing against women who do that as a protective style, I just feel like it defeats the purpose of being natural. Anyway, pic of my hair:

Crappy shot and my face is covered because I feel and look REALLY tired. And it's at a weird angle because I wanted to show off my twist--after much hassling, success! A picture of my hair straight on, lol--tired face:

-revolution grl

Just When I'd Forgot I'm Black...

2009-11-23T19:09:00.003-06:00

...Just kidding! I don't even forget I'm black in my dreams!

I don't plan on making this too long.

Maybe my mom will stop telling me I'm too "militant" and taking her "everyone is equal for the most part and you will never directly experience racism!" attitude. Tonight she had a firm reminder of just what it means to be black. We decided to go out to eat for dinner, and we both thought a Chinese buffet would be great--after all, the Chinese food in Columbia sucks and I hadn't been to a good buffet since the summer. After missing the turn onto the highway, we decided to go to a random buffet (a mix of different Asian foods) close by. When we first entered I noticed that there were a lot of white people inside, but we were in a majority white area and the hostess seemed nice enough so I didn't think anything of it. I don't want race to dominate my entire life.

However, I noticed that our waitress kept coming over to our table, lurking close by. Again, I tried to ignore it and convinced myself it was just me "seeing racism in everything." I am beginning to wonder if I make too many things about race, or if society really is as racism as I notice--sometimes I don't know if it's better to be completely oblivious to racism/make excuses for it, or to be hyper aware. Anyway, after ten minutes the girl brought us our check. I didn't say anything because my mom didn't seem to notice, but I was ready to go. She said she was going to get dessert but instead got a whole plate. While waiting I became agitated, aware of how the people who worked there did not want our patronage (well, our money but not us). I noticed how the white people who'd been there when we came in and gotten 4 or 5 plates had not been rushed to leave or blatantly stalked.

When she got back I said, "I didn't want to say anything but...why'd she give us our check so soon?" my mom said she'd noticed it too, and that it is why she decided to get another plate. She ate very slow, and while I admired her for that--after all, that's how things were accomplished with sit-ins, I couldn't shake the feeling of just wanting to be gone. I sat there staring around and back at her, and she talked about "not letting them win." I understand that, but couldn't we have just mentioned that on the way and never go there again? I would've been fine with that...I guess I am more of a coward than a militant. After another 10 minutes my mother finally got ready to go. The lady at the front desk smiled kindly at us and when my mother kept mentioning how we were rushed out, and the woman continued to smile pretending like she didn't understand us. I'm pretty sure she understands English very well, because as she gave us our change she said, "sorry." Of course you are.

When we got to the car and started driving, my mother's calm resolve slowly dissipated. She began to cuss and talk about how angry it made her, and although it pissed me off and shook me up--no one ever likes to experience such blatant racism, I was not angry like her. I kept my calm the whole time, because I was not shocked. I told her that's why I talk about race so much and why it's such a huge part of my life, and while I don't think she'll be calling me militant again anytime soon, I also don't think she gets it. She responded with, "well I'm not going to let it drive me crazy" implying that I do, despite she being the one who was visibly upset. Our elevator ride was a silently awkward one, and then she said, "it's funny how people...people who aren't even white themselves can treat us like second class citizens. Everyone knows how to be a racist." And that is one thing we can agree on.

She also mentioned how a lot of the white people eating in there looked like "trash" and how the most, "prosperous black people could still be treated lower than the most obvious white trash." And while that comment was kind of classist and cruel, I can't say it wasn't the truth. It's also HILARIOUS that while they were sooo desperate to keep their establishment white, none of the white people there cared or noticed our existence. Most people don't give a fuck about that kind of stuff when eating at a $10 buffet.

In other news: I randomly ran into this girl I go to school with at the library. It continues to amaze me just how small St. Louis can feel! We were both checking out and had ran to get the last of the 3 New Moon posters (LOL) and she recgonized me and I was like, "oh My God!" A lot of "oh my God, I didn't know you lived in St. Louis!!" was exchanged and my mom said that we sounded like a couple of Valley Girl hens...however that sounds. And the moral of this story? We are going to see New Moon tomorrow, despite only ever saying "hi" to each other a couple of times before at school. And the world is small, sometimes in a good way.

2009-11-23T16:43:00.004-06:00

I was watching CNN this morning and there was a segment on a woman snowboarder and a book she released. At the end of the segment, the reporter said, "half of all the proceeds will go to a charity she has in Africa." I said, "they always do that!" and when my mom asked what I was talking about, I said "nothing" because she's already gone on one of her rants about how I am "too militant." If my mom thinks I'm militant I'd like to see what she had to say about some of the blogs I read, but moving on...

The media seems to have this overwhelming need to paint Africa as this HUGE homogeneous place, as a country with no differences. If I didn't know any better, I'd think Nigeria, Ethiopia, and Somalia were all states in that giant country of Africa--and growing up, I did. I thought about how Africa was always referred to as opposed to other continents, and I realized that there was a very common theme. In all of the Feed the Children and other such commercials with white people in some starved country, they would always refer to the people there as "Africans" and the place they were in simply as "Africa." I'm going to be honest and say that until a year or so ago I never thought about this or the repercussions it has on society, but there are many. Even when in countries like Malaysia, Indonesia, or Cambodia it would simply be referred to as "Asia" I guess because all those brown people with almond eyes look the same and most viewers are too disinterested to give a fuck otherwise.

Now when I see stuff like this on tv, I wish I could ask them, "WHERE are you in Africa? It's a continent, you know--just like Europe and North America." It's like, why does the media never talk about all the awful things going on in Russia or how so many Russian children are being adopted by people in the US (you know, like they talk about all the Chinese girls being adopted). And if they ever did talk about the extreme poverty of Russia and the widespread violence, I am 100% they'd mention the country by name and not simply as "Europe." And that's when I had another realization: referring to largely underdeveloped continents inhabited by POC as a homogeneous place with no difference in the people or the culture is a way of dehumanizing them. When there is an infomercial on about children in Africa with one shot in Ethiopa and the other quickly flashing to Kenya--as if these people with different languages, cultures, and features all come from the same desolate place (because we all know that NOWHERE in Ethiopia or Kenya could possibly be prosperous in the slightest /sarcasm) with the same culture--you know, African or something.

And what scares me about this so much is that not everyone learns when they get older that Africa is not a continent, or that not everyone in the many countries of Africa is poor and starving. They don't know that Nigeria, Ethiopia, and Somalia also have people who are thriving and middle-class. Yes, a large part of the population is living in poverty--but not everyone. A quick look on Wikipedia (one of my favorite ways to waste time, of course) will show that there is a very nice university located in Somalia.

I was hanging out with some people from the campus ministry I'm apart of and were playing some quiz game. It asked basic questions about different topics--from countries, food, politics, pop cultures, to current events. The girl was trying to figure out how to get us to guess the name of a country and she so described it as, "a country in Africa (at least she knew it wasn't a continent!) that is just desert and lawlessness...no order or anything and everyone is starving..." no one guessed--probably because they were all tempted to name random countries in Africa, and eventually she said, "Somalia!" That is how the mass media has taught us to view the continent of Africa and the people who inhabit it. The same (mostly white) people go on a mission trip to an children's home in Jamaica every May and while discussing the children there, they said Jamaica was a country where 90-100% of the people who lived there were, "abused in some way" as a child. And that the children had to have sex talks at "six" because--I mean, you know those brown kids just can't control their natural sexual prowess at an early age! It was really sickening to listen to, but what was even sadder is that they didn't know how offensive or ignorant they sounded.

A lot of times white people know when they're being offensive, it's why they preamble things with, "I don't want to offend you but..." or, "I don't mean to sound racist but..." but in some cases it's obvious they are just being what some white people are best at: being clueless. When you've been fed a Single Story about people, places, and cultures differently from your own your entire life, you sometimes start to believe it. And unless someone is open-minded enough (or curious enough) to look outside their own box and privilege they'll never move beyond those lies. And when it comes to the media and how places outside the United States are viewed and talked about--even Africa--black Americans need to check our privilege as well; it is something I am learning to do everyday. There are even people in America who believe the single story fed to them about black Americans in the media--I've witnessed it. There are so many Americans who when asked to name a country in Africa, would reply, "isn't Africa a country?" and be completely serious. That would never happen with Asia (despite the above example), North America, or Europe. It might happen with South America, or some people might reply, "Mexico." If caring about things like this makes me "militant" and/or "too serious" (again, another quote from my mom) I guess I'll just have to stay that way.
-revolution grl

Thanksgiving Break!

2009-11-23T06:27:00.003-06:00

I hate MTV but there is a Lady GaGa power hour going on right now, and I love the Gaga. I tried to avoid her for months, but once I actually listened to her...I was in love. Anyway, I've officially been on break since Friday afternoon and I feel like my break didn't really start until last night. Saturday was a lazy day, and I spent allllll day Sunday getting my hair braided. I decided to do a protective style until January because--while I only wash my hair every 10 days or so, and my regime in-between that time seems to work very well for me, it's going to be getting cold here (eventually--it's still in the sixties! Damn you, global warming!) and I don't want to experience losing too much moisture. Also, I was starting to notice more breakage because my hair is growning at an extremely fast rate (just two months ago I was practically bald, now I have enough hair to grip into pixie braids) and until my hair is out of this awkward stage I'm just going to wear it braided.

It was supposed to take 8 hours to braid my hair but it ended up taking 13. Whenever I get my hair braided it takes A LOT longer than the braider originally intended--I have very thick hair and while it's short, I have no shortage of hair. The lady said, "your hair is so short but it's so thick and there's so much of it!" I smiled, because while we were both tired and ready to move on with our lives (I'm sure she doesn't want to see me for awhile) I think the best compliment in the world is being told I have thick hair. I know a lot of people cringe at the word "thick" in regards but even when my hair was relaxed I loved being told how thick it was. I know everyone has different hair types, but to me thick means healthy.

Anyway, I loved the outcome of all my little braids. They were supposed to all be dark brown/black but we ran out of hair after 4 bags so she added a little red up top and that just makes it so much cuter, like a highlight! I'm really bad at taking care of braided extensions (to my mother's dismay, because she usually pays) but as I'm getting better at taking care of my hair in many ways, maybe this will be one too. Yesterday I came across a tutorial for how to do a rodset on pixie braids and I will definitely be trying that out the night before I leave for school again! I would post a photo of my hair but there's crappy lighting and my eyebrows are embarassing me--the last thing I need to get done. I haven't had my eyebrows waxxed by my wonderful eyebrowist (yes, I made up a word) Mimi since AUGUST! I also want some drop feather earrings and one of those Gossip Girl headbands all the girls are wearing on campus. My mom is taking me to Old Navy on Friday to get a new winter coat (I already have it picked out, it's lovely) and since Target has good Black Friday sales as well--and is my favorite place to buy earrings that aren't handmade--maybe I can convince her to go there, too.

Speaking of my mom, this update is brought to the internetz from a queen sized bed in a luxury hotel suite. It's pretty much amazing...although the food she ordered for me last night was disgusting. They like...deep frieded chicken quesadillas and it tasted really questionable. The cheesecake was wonderful though, probably because they didn't make it :D.

(Almost) Midweek Sexy

2009-11-17T20:56:00.002-06:00

Revolution Grl will more than likely make an actual blog entry over Thanksgiving break. I've been very busy and very burned out.

<3

Oh, to be 18.

2009-11-10T23:34:00.004-06:00

My thoughts have been too disjointed lately to update coherently. Add to that a terrible headache which ended with an 800mg prescription for Ibuprofen and 230mg of hydrocodone! I'm muy stressed, but here's a song/video describing my biggest problem/emotion right now:

Alicia Keys - You Don't Know My Name
Uploaded by freddclips. - Explore more music videos.

Sigh.

2009-11-01T13:18:00.003-06:00

Revolution Grl was a tiger for Halloween:

I had a great night!

Queer As Folk: Why Do Women Love it So?

2009-10-31T04:03:00.007-05:00

OK so Gale Harold isn't gay in real life but for five seasons he portrayed Brian Kinney on the hugely popular series, Queer As Folk. Before the wee hours of this Halloween morning I'd never watched the show before despite hearing about how amaaaaazing it is/was from the masses (including almost every other teenage girl I knew when I was 16). So out of boredom and finally being able to find all the seasons online, I delve into the world that is Queer As Folk--and wow, am I ever glad I did! After one episode I can tell I am going to be hooked, but it has led me to ponder why straight women are so fascinated with the lives and sexuality of gay men. The Gay Best Friend (I linked to this specific article because while it clearly explains the gay best friend phenomena, it also critiques its existence) has long been a pop culture stronghold, but after watching Queer As Folk I realized that straight women are interested in much more than having the stereotypical gay (another pop culture creation) around who can give them shopping tips.

I did some googling about the correlation between women and Queer As Folk, and found a wide range of articles. I had to roll my eyes at the author who lamented over how she enjoyed the "intense storylines" and "good looking actors" because--yes, while I'm sure that's true, she conveniently glossed over a huge part of every episode: the sex. Sex! Sex! Sex! And lots of it. There's a facebook group called, "Men Watch Porn, Women Watch Queer As Folk" and the name is hilarious and awesome for a lot of reasons...but mostly because it's true. But why?

The article I found that addressed not only how women relate to the characters, but the sexual aspect of it as well was this one (it's a great read and goes into far more detail than I will be able to at almost 5am, lol!) I think it did a great job of discussing how the characters are engaging and multi-layered, but also how women are (surprising) turned on characters like Brian and Justin getting it on with each other and with not a woman in sight. I am a straight woman, and for many years I tried to wrap my head around what was so fascinating about "two guys kissing", I felt that there was something strangely violating about the whole fascination straight women have with it, almost a kind of fetishization. But when I watched QAF--it's loving shorthand, tonight I wasn't seeing these characters as fetish. In fact, I think one of the reasons why straight women love the show so much is because these characters step out of the "Lovable Gay BFF" role and become men who love and feel deeply.

For instance, a character who is popular with straight and lesbian women moreso than gay men is Brian Kinney. Brian is what Will from Will and Grace would've been if he were allowed to more openly express his sexuality and be deeply nuanced and not just vaguely on the surface. There is nothing "very gay" about Brian in the stereotypical sense audiences have come to expect, his character is a bit intimidating in his bluntness, and he's...well, incredibly sexy. Likewise, his best friend Michael is in the closet at work and hasn't had sex in months, he's a swet guy who seems to harbor affection for the party animal Brian, and again--he's three dimensional and not a stereotype we've come to believe all gay men must be.

So is this to say that perhaps straight women see gay men as more than just Jack or the asexual Will (I know, I know--but Will had boyfriends! It still seemed like he was one step away from kissing Grace half the time)? Eh, who knows--you'd be surprised by how many Draco/Harry fanfiction slash writers will cringe and go, "ewwwww!" at the thought of gays being allowed to marry--oh, the horror!

While I don't know what it means to other women, I do know what it means to me. I enjoy seeing a show focused solely on the lives of gay men--the ups, downs, work, play, and everything in-between. Despite my one episode (definitely going to have a marathon next weekend after all this Halloween business is over) I think that Brian is going to be my favorite character. As stated, there's something deeply nuanced about him, and I can't wait to see how his character develops as I watch all the seasons of the now defunct show. But I also can't neglect that I can't wait for steamy sex scenes and the way Brian talks in that low voice of his, his dreamy bedroom eyes, and how he could say, "I'm going to take out the trash" and I'd still be turned on by it. I like that he gets to be a person and a sexual being and not there solely for some female character to get advice on a pair of shoes or men from. I like that his social network is other gay men and lesbians, and not the sole gay in a sea of straight women and their boyfriend--there for comic relief or to be the best friend's whose sexual orientation is only brought up when convenient and/or a reminder. I really like it.

It's not progressive to make a primetime television show about a straight woman and her gay best friend who--"people almost forget is gay!" because he "plays straight" so well. In contrast, putting a character who personifies a stereotype does no better--it only makes it OK for people to use terms like, "I'm cool with Wills but not with Jacks" meaning, "I like gay people as long as they don't talk about it in front of me." And when it's a big deal that said show is the first to feature a peck between two men on network television--after being on air for YEARS, still not progressive. Maybe I'm just too much an idealist who should settle with SOMETHING, but I expect more. So yeah, QAF might've came on Showtime which meant having to pay for the premium channels to get it (or, what until it went off-air to scour the internet like I did!) at least it doesn't treat its characters like their sexual orientation has to be hidden to be excepted or stereotypes. I get to see them live life and love, and that's what is appealing to this woman. I suspect it is to others, too.

That's Enough, Allison Samuels: When We Demonize Our Own

2009-10-29T00:20:00.007-05:00

So the blogosphere has been abuzz for weeks about Allison Samuels opinions on Zahara Jolie-Pitt's hair. At first I simply read the articles giving their own take and left mine out of, but after reading the (wonderful and amazing) Latoya Peterson's article on Jezebel to Samuels follow up I felt I could remain silent on longer.

I think that Zahara's hair is beautiful. I think all natural hair is beautiful, and I prefer it over relaxed and weaved tresses any day. For me to feel this way says a lot, considering a little over a year ago I had a head full of weave glued on top of my scalp--in brown and orange, no less. What caused my transformation? I don't know. For a long time I followed the school of thought that, "hair is just hair" and had no problem with shaving my head, growing it out, getting braids, getting a relaxer, getting some weave, shaving it off again, etc. Hair wasn't a big deal to me, but I didn't fully understand the reason why it should be.

Now that I think about it, hair was never "just hair." I still remember vividly watching the Famous Jett Jackson and wanting hair like his friend Kayla. See, Kayla was mixed so she had that "good hair"--her hair wasn't straight, not by any means, but it was loosely coiled and curly enough to not be too white but not be too black, either. I remembered spending the whole day washing my hair over and over again, hoping it'd look like hers. But when it dried it was nappy and all over my head and in that moment I hated my fucking hair; why didn't I have good hair? Why couldn't I be mixed so I could have pretty hair that waved up after washing instead of getting nappy? I hated my kitchen and having to get relaxers to have nice hair! HATED! And I was also eight years old.

I spent so much of the first 17 years of my life going through so many hairstyles trying to figure out which ones were for me. It didn't hit me until September when I decided to grow out my own natural hair that none of those styles were for me. The reason why I looked funny with a head full of somebody else's hair in my head or relaxing my beautiful hair to try and tame it is because MY HAIR IS NOT MEANT TO BE TAMED. My hair is fucking beautiful, and I'm sad it took me so long to realize that.

I was raised to hate my hair. I know that was never my parents intentions, but it's what they taught me--my mother specifically. My mom relaxed my hair for the first time when I was three years old--three. I never had a chance. She said she did it because my hair was unmanageable, and I can't be mad at my mom for this. My mother not knowing how to style and take care of my natural hair harkens back to black people's history in this country, and just what was ripped from us so many years ago. And so I spent my childhood getting relaxers and being told by mom that I couldn't, "play on the floor" or go swimming or run around outside and basically do EVERYTHING I loved to do because then my hair would get, "messed up." And messed up meant that my hair would come out of the ponytail holders my mother worked so hard to get my hair in, the little balls that made it hard to sleep at night and pulled my head so tight. This is me at six:

I remember the day this photo was taken as if it were yesterday, I was wearing my favorite sweater. Getting my pictures taken were impromptu, I had originally only gone along with my mom so my older cousin could get her photos taken. But there was a deal and so my mom couldn't help seizing the opportunity, it'd been 3 years since my grandmother had taken me to get photos done. I remember how my mother redid my ponytails while we waited for my cousin to finish with her pictures because, my hair had been up for a few days and a few strands we loose. If a few loose strands were such a bothersome to my mother and my day-to-day life, how could I ever even begin to understand a head full of natural, tightly coiled, NAPPY hair? It was beyond me.

I first realized maybe I wanted natural hair this past summer. I visited lots of natural hair blogs because it was something that fascinated me, and the women always looked gorgeous to me. I also wanted to learn more about how to take care of natural hair, as I'd tried once before and caved in to the relaxer. I'd been wearing micros for the last year, and had actually only been experimenting with stretching my relaxers to twice a year. But when I saw the natural hair, I couldn't wait to get those micros out and see my own hair. I did a twist-out, but I felt like a poser because while I hadn't had a relaxer in 6 months, a lot of my hair was still relaxed:

So I went to my old barber to BC (although I didn't know it was called that) for the 2nd time. He asked if I was sure I wanted to do it, and I said yes. He smiled and said, "at least you know you can grow back a head full of heathy hair!" and while I'd planned to wear a lowcut for awhile, fate would have it that I start my journey much sooner than expected.

My transition into natural hair was thrust upon me for two reasons: 1) it was hard finding a ride to the barbershop every two weeks and I hate feeling like a nuisance, 2) the natural haired women on campus are GORGEOUS. There is actually a sizable amount of natural hair on campus and I am in constant envy and awe of their beauty--I want/ed that. And thus...here I am.

I often find myself playing in my hair absentmindedly. I'll be sitting in the student union on my laptop and my hand will wander to my head where it will caress and pull and gently massage. I am in constant awe of my TWA, with its supreme fluffiness and beautiful curls that I enjoying pulling as they spring back in place. My hair is NAPPY--nappy and beautiful, and I am so happy. My hair is TIGHTLY COILED and loves to be played with and loved, I have no problem with anyone feeling my hair. My hair is NOT hard to manage, and when people feel it they are surprised and awed by how, "soft" it is, because we have not come to expect such things from NATURAL black hair. I have no desire to get a relaxer; this transition has been one completely. I find natural hair to be the most beautiful thing any black woman can have, and while I try not to judge, I find myself not being impressed by relaxed or weaved hair in the slightest. In fact, when I see this women I think of how much prettier they'd all be with natural hair. Free.

When my mom and cousin came to visit me last weekend the first thing they did was comment on my hair. I'd been nervous about my mother's reaction to my hair, because while she is supportive of anything I choose to do, I know that subconsciously she is partial to relaxed hair. I know this because when I would take my micros down and wear an afro around the house she'd lament over how, "you need to get your hair done before school starts" as if my natural hair was just something to do in the off time, but not to be seen in presentable society with. So I'd spent extra time on my hair (meaning 10 minutes instead of 5) and prayed. When my mom saw me she said, "you look so happy and beautiful. Your hair looks really good, I love it!" I was shocked, and even more so shocked by throughout the day she kept fawning over how nice she found it. Maybe this is because my mom is going through her own natural hair journey, rocking a dyed yellow TWA.

Tonight I called my mom and told her how much her words truly meant to me, and that I appreciated them so much. We talked about our regimes and took something from one another, and I wondered aloud why natural hair was such a big deal--why just wearing my God given hair was so "different." My mother said it's because we are programmed to hate our hair and only see beauty in hair that comes from relaxers--and while it was ironic to hear that coming from a woman who gave me a relaxer at 3, it was also proof that it's never too late to learn and grow.

So how does this relate to Zahara? Here is a little girl being taught to love the beauty that is the natural hair that grows from her hair. The beautiful spiral curls that capture and captivate attention, that make her different from everyone else and twice as lovely. She doesn't know what it's like to have her scalped burn, to sit under a hot comb, to covet the hair she sees on tv. And maybe one day when she's older and sees that many little girls--black and white, have hair different from hers she'll experience that. Or maybe her parents teaching her to love herself will cause her to know that her hair is BEAUTIFUL. It boggles my mine that Allison Samuels--a woman old enough to be Zahara's mother and over a decade older than myself, can be so obtuse. It infuriates me that she has written TWO articles demonizing the beautiful hair of a child! What if Zahara somehow catches wind of this and starts to internalize this hate--as Allison and so many others (including myself) has? Her ignorant articles just don't affect her--or even Zahara. They affect every little black girl who might read Newsweek and only internalize more self-hate (yes, I read Newsweek when I was 12) and it only validates the long-held belief that black natural hair is bad and ugly; it is not. I commend Angie and Brad on their choices for Zahara in regards to her hair, if I am blessed enough to someday have a daughter (currently undecided) I plan to teach her to love her hair. I know it's easier said than done, but I hope my example and bombarding her with images of beautiful black women and hair will help. I will know how to style and manage her beautiful hair.

Each day with my hair is a new journey and experience, and each day I love it more. Even on a "bad hair day" I am in awe and love and mesmerization, there is nothing anyone can tell me to make me feel differently or change my mind. My hair is a lot of things--kinky, curly, nappy, tightly coiled, and dynamic are all words I use to describe it. But no matter what, it is mine.

Keepin' it kinky and proud,

revolution grl

Are you over 40? Well, you've totally earned that 18 year old girl!

2009-10-26T20:31:00.006-05:00

I am being cheeky because it's so sad.

It is well known that the Internet is a very creepy place filled with sick, creepy perverts--it is like the underbelly of civilized society, a modern day brothel. Despite knowing these things, I do love my internet and I don't know what I'd do without it. When used properly (and how I think it was meant to be used) the internet can be a place of enlightenment and education--at least, it has been for me. But it hasn't gotten its reputation for having a darker side for nothing, myspace in its prime wasn't known as being a place for pedophiles because it was a cute thing to say. There's a reason for one of my favorite and now defunct investigation shows, To Catch A Predator; while the show was hilarious and it was awesome to see Chris Hansen stand there and say in this completely stoic voice, "I think you should have a seat..." there's no denying the truth to it, and that for every perv they caught there were thousands more waiting in the wings. Law and Order: SVU is my favorite fictional crime drama, but every episode is based on a true story.

That being said, I think I'm pretty net savvy. I've been online since I was 9 years old and so I've had years to go through trial and error. I've never much been into the whole cybering thing and chatrooms, but I did visit them every once and awhile for shits and giggle when they were still fun and not so heavily patrolled. I had AOL, so I was privy to such things as dating message boards for teens which were sometimes trolled by old guys/women using photos of their unsuspecting teenagers. However, because I was always afraid my clueless parents would somehow get a clue, I only did this when I was really, really bored and anyway--I wasn't stupid enough to arrange to meet someone with the screenname "Hotcityboi4u."

Over the weekend I was hanging out with my friends and were decided to join a dating site. It was past midnight and so we were all so tired until the idea sounded BRILLIANT. We joined a black dating site (no, not the always classy Blackplanet) for black people looking to meet other black people as well as those of other ethnicities. While I only joined the site half seriously, you never know who might contact you and I didn't want to put myself through the hell that is one of those (racist) mainstream dating sites like e-harmony or OK Cupid.

And what have I learned in that 3 days? That men who are 40+ feel entitlted to barely legal flesh, and see nothing wrong with contacting me on the Internet despite my preferences clearing stating "18-25." 18 to 25. I wasn't going to make a blog entry about this, until I got a particularly hilarious contact. I will copy and paste it for context:

Hi,

You seem like a cool person. So far, I haven't had any luck on this site (2 weeks). Matter of fact, I just had a fat vegan and a women w/pics dating back to the Nixon administration contact me? What's up with that?

Anyway, please check out my profile and let me know what u think?

Thx,
*********

OK. The guy who sent me that...very appealing message (I am a cool person, thank you!) is 47 years old. 47. years. old. My mother turned 50 last Wednesday and my father will be 53 in June. The guy also has a kid who is 21. 21! That's 3 years older than me. But I'll get into that after I add more context:

I am looking for:
SBF, attractive, intelligent, good communicator, funny (w/o trying), easy going (flexible), fit, active, sensual, sexual and fun. Prefer childless.

Historically, I've tended to date women much younger than myself, but I'm open to all! After all, age is just a number in many cases.

What can you possibly have in common with a woman 29 years your junior, though? I like to think of myself as mature yet at the same time I am still dependent on my parents, am prone to use "oh my God!" a lot, obsessed with Harry Potter and Skins and I have a lot to learn. Besides, I think guys my own age are hot, and I'm sure when he was my age he thought girls his own age were attractive, too. "Historically, I've tendd to date women much younger than myself"--do you mean once you hit 35 and realized you were getting old? Is that when you divorced your wife and started dating women who were 25 (which is now probably too old) and neglecting your kid but pacifying them with money and cool gifts? Is it? Yeah.

Also: I seriously doubt this guy would want his own 21 year old child dating someone who was 29 yrs their senior, why does he think my parents would want the same for me? Then again, he probably isn't thinking of my parents or the fact that I am someone's child. That I am eighteen and inexperienced and just starting a life of my own...well, maybe he gets off on that part. It's also COMICAL that he "prefers childless", when he's 47 with an (adult) child of his own. A lot of older men are like that--it's okay if they're used--sorry, "experienced" but the woman must be pure as the driven snow, I guess that's why they go after someone 3 decades younger than them. Women are loose nowadays, ya know? Gotta get 'em young.

This creeper is also white, which makes it even more offensive and gross. I doubt he is seeing me or any other young black woman he tries to pick up on the Internet as a person, and hey--I probably sleep with guys old enough to be my dad anyway! No. No. He has the nerve to be picky and deem the "fat vegan" and "woman with pictures from the Nixon adminstration" below him, but I bet they are his age or at least closer--the horror! And his pictures aren't all that appealing either--I mean, it's obvious that when he was 20 he was probably a very, very good looking guy but he's graying at the temples now and looks like someone I'd call "sir" while smiling at amicably on the street. Not someone I think is hot. Sure, I think David Duchovny and my 40something classical mythology professor are hotties, but that's because they're unattainable; if I had the opportunity to date either one I would be too creeped out to take it. It's called being young. I should be cheeky and respond with, "what is the Nixon adminstration?" but I don't believe in dumbing myself down to prove how young I am--maybe I'll link him to this blog entry instead? Or maybe I'll just roll my eyes and delete it and rage silently? Yeah, maybe that.

logically,
revolution grl

"Stop dressing like such a WHORE and maybe guys won't stare!"

2009-10-25T22:07:00.007-05:00

Image courtesy of google after googling the word "whore."

So...yeah. The title of this blog pretty much explains everything it's going to be about. I know this sentiment and comments like it are a cliche for ignorant things guys (and girls) say to women and girls about men but I never really gave it much thought. I'd honestly never seen/read/heard anyone say the above and not mean it as a joke/sarcastically. And while in the back of my mind I knew there were many people who believed such things, it's easy to push it out of my mind when I'm not confronted with it in my life...ever.

I was doing some random googling, and one of the things I googled was "why do guys stare at girls?" After being on this campus for almost 3 months, I've started to notice it. I don't really pay it any mind--because, while I hate to agree with my dad on this one, as long as they're not touching or saying anything inappropriate to me there's really nothing I can do. I still feel a little violated and uncomfortable when guys my dad's age eye me like a piece of meat, but guys my own age on my campus...not so much. I really started thinking about this on Friday. I was walking back from Spanish class and I noticed a guy staring at me; I didn't think much of it and looked away quickly (as I usually do) but when he walked past me he was looking so far down my chest (I had a tank top on so it's not like he was seeing anything) that he almost knocked me over! There was something so creepy about it, I felt like I'd almost been violated.

Yesterday my mom and cousin drove in to visit me and I got to go grocery shopping ($85 worth--a girl missed food)!!! Everyone who works at the store goes to my university (I saw a guy who goes here and I also went to my middle and my first high school with) and the guy over in dairy kept eyeing me. He was very cute--maybe even hot, and so I didn't mind. I kept walking past him to get things I needed and--yeah, because I liked his eyes following me. Yet despite that, he said NOTHING which led me to my silly google search. Most of the answers told me things I already knew in the back of my mind, yet I also got these:

They're guys. That's what they do. Think of it as kind of a left over phase of childhood when they used to stick straws up their noses to impress the girls. It's just what boys do. Personally I think women get way too offended at nothing. Like the toilet seat being left up. Come on. I don't suppose your signifigant other can convince you to leave it up for them.

However, if it is constant and annoying here's some tips. 1. Don't make a big deal. It might be a compliment after all. 2. Dress modestly. They stare a lot less when you're not wearing shorts that ride up your butt. 3. Don't assume. They're probably not thinking anything beyond "Hey look. A girl. How 'bout that. I like girls." 4. Put the situation in perspective. They say when a guy looks once, he's a man, when he looks twice, well he's interested. So they tend to make their first look long and hard. 5. Guys are visual. They use their eyes a lot. They're also tatic people so they like to touch, but don't need to know that much about you.
Source(s):
Grew up with three brothers and thinks guys are way cooler than girls.

maybe you have big hooters, or you are dressed like a prostitute.

The above two comments are hiliarious in that, "wow this is really sad..." kind of way. As someone who LIVES in jeans and t-shirts, I'm glad to know that I need to dress more modestly. Admittedly, I am a curvacious girl, but there is nothing about my clothes that scream, "PROSTITUTE" and I want to see the day I'm wearing booty shorts riding up my ass. I also don't have big boobs, but love tank tops and slightly padded push ups because they give the illision that I'm a full C, and even so--none of that is an excuse for guys to stare. Even if I was well endowed in my chest area, or wore booty shorts, it doesn't mean I want a guy to undress me with his eyes! I abhor the sentiment that anytime a girl is dressed like the photo in this entry she's doing it for men or because, "she wants attention." Although I am famous for owning dozens of t-shirts and a pair of jeans for every day of the week, sometimes I get dressed up. And when I do I go all out in dresses and skirts that showoff my figure...and you know what? I do it for me. The one time I wore a skirt this year my guy friend asked me, "who you getting all cute for?" and I smiled and said, "myself" and it was the complete truth.

I also hate the notion that feeling uncomfortable when guys stare you down is "getting offended at nothing." While I don't get offended and take it as a compliment, there's nothing wrong with women who DO. This harkens back to street harassment and men who believe women should take graphic sexual language as "a compliment." What? Why? While I don't get offended when some hot guy between the ages of 17-25 is staring at me, I have every right to do so and/or feel uncomfortable if I felt like it. And I do feel that way when the guy is 50 and leering at me.

On Wednesday I plan on wearing this dress. Why? Because I like it and I bought it for my mom's visit but only got to wear it for a couple of hours because it was homecoming (aka game day) and everyone had on jeans and a school related shirt. I would wear it Monday, but Wednesday is the only day this week we're not expecting rain. I think it's cute, and I also want a certain boy in my theatre class to notice...but even so, I'm doing it for me.

(And really, why do guys stare but not say anything? If you're hot, I'm interested!)

-rg.

What's in a Name? (Everything)

2009-10-25T19:07:00.004-05:00

I try not to be envious of other people, because I believe that the only way to truly be happy and blessed in my life is to be thankful for what I do have and not what I don't and/or never will. I was raised to compliment someone if they had something I liked, not to become bitter and harbor jealousy, to "hate on them." That being said, I am not a perfect person (or even close) by any means and I do find myself being envious of others on occasion. One of the things I envy about so many people are their last names.

My last name is a funny one, a quirky one, a cool one. Growing up I didn't feel that way about it, because despite only being being 4 letters long and comprising of 2 syllables, people have never been able to pronounce it. Growing up kids would say my first name and then call me "Booty" because apparently to them it was a funny take on my last name (my great grandmother's last name is actually pronounced "Bootay" which makes this all the more hilarious, I suppose.) As I got older I started to love the last name that had once caused me so much strife--it's nice to have a name that's so short and sweet, yet still causes people so much discomfort. Even many of my teachers and professors have had to ask me, "how do you pronounce your last name?" before saying it. It is annoying when people assume my last name is "Blue" despite it looking nothing like it, and even more so when I tell them dozens of times, "that's not my last name, here is how you say it" and they still say it wrong/make no attempts to correct themselves. This has only happened once, but it was with a school counselor which made it all the more annoying. But moving on...

I'd never thought much about my last name. However when I was sixteen I suddenly became interested in my paternal genealogy and ancestry because my surname is so odd and not easy to come by. The only people I know with it are my family, and whenever people meet me and know someone with my last name the automatically assume we must be related because the name is so uncommon. So I decided to start work on a family tree, and asked him for some basic information until I could talk with my great grandmother. He told me our family came to St. Louis from Louisiana in the '40s and that our last name was French.

That isn't true.

After numerous google searches I've come to the conclusion that my last name is Scottish. And while Scottish is still just as white as French, French still seemed somehow...less horrible. But when it all comes down to it my last name which I thought (and still do think sometimes when I don't let the reality of it hit home) was so cool really isn't. It's nothing more than another symbol that despite my dark skin, thick and nappy hair, and "west african features" there is still white blood in me. White blood that came from rape and not all a union of love or whatever other romanticism that's been placed on such things (Sally Hemmings and Thomas Jefferson, anyone? There's a statue of him near my dorm and I glare at it everyday--as a kind of service to her.) I have a love/hate with my Scottish last name--for how I got it, what it represents, and why when I do a google search I get pictures of lily white folks who might be related to me (and swear up and down they aren't), but a picture of my uncle as well!

I envy the African students at my school. The ones with last names that sing true the glory of their homeland, the homeland that is not mine. I envy them because they can claim something as their own, and while some of us may have the same skin color, or nose, lips, and big brown eyes, we aren't the same. I envy them more so than the white people with their last names--the people who ripped mine from me generations before I was even thought about. When I think about it too much it makes me angry, and there are enough angry people in this world and anger does nothing but beget more anger.

And the weirdest thing of all is that now that I am in college where there are so many international students with "foreign" last names, I get asked a lot where am I from/where is my family from/what is my name's origin. Because it's better than replying with "I don't know" I reply with, "I'm American and so if my family for generations upon generations back..." I usually answer with a smile and that stops all the questions without too much akwardness. I also get a lot of people telling me how "cool" and "unique" my entire name is (my first name is pretty common but apparently most of the people at my university are extremely sheltered and have never heard it--go figure) or people assuming my last name is foreign. It's interesting...

Such is life.

-revolution girl

Products My TWA Love

2009-10-23T13:16:00.004-05:00

Since deciding to grow my hair out natural, I've been scouring natural hair blogs and websites for ideas and for a routine that works on my hair. In the last year or so I've been visiting natural hair sites often, so when I decided to go natural and not just wear my hair shaved I already had some idea of what to do. However, as most blogs are devoted to completely natural products that are too expensive and have to be ordered online, I looked for what store bought products were suggested. As a broke college student I want to be natural and chic while still remaining in my not so chic budget! So here are some things I love:

Yes, in order--haha. So when I first decided it was time my hair got a good shampooing and conditioner, I bought the wrong shampoo+conditioner. I couldn't remember if the fabulous reviewer Rachel at Black Girl with Long Hair had suggested Garnier or Dove. My heart was telling me, "Dove! Dove!" but I went with Garnier. When I get back home I'd found that not only was Garnier not the right conditioner, but it hadn't even made her Top 15 Drugstore Product, list! After spending $10 and soem change, I decided to give it a try anyway for a couple of weeks. So I shampooed and conditioned my hair, put some shea butter in and for the first couple of days...I loved my results. My hair was soft and lovely and I loved running my fingers through it. But on/after the the third day I noticed a lot of build up and I'd have to wash my hair every 3 days--something I'd never had to do before and that I knew would dry it out. So I decided a trip to Walgreens was in order to pick up Dove Frizz Control Therapy shampoo and conditioner. It was $5.39 each, which was a .40 difference between the shampoo and condition being sold at the on-campus market--all the difference for my budget ;D! I also bought a wide tooth comb for detangling after washing, as I would usually use a brush on my hair everyday. I saw frizz control mousse too, which said it would help to define curls without leaving my hair and hands sticky and stiff. And what were my results, you ask?!

Amazing . I highly recommend the Dove frizz control line of products to all my nappy/curly/whatever you like to call your hair, girls! I washed my hair about 5 days ago using the products, detangled with my comb while my hair was wet, let it dry, and then added a little mousse. The first couple of days I applied mousse daily, on the third day I added shea butter for moisturizing, on the fourth day (yesterday) I woke up and fluffed it out with my fingers. This is how my hair looks as of right now, although the lighting in my dorm made for a rather shitty photo. This morning I put in a little mousse, and I'll probably wash my hair on Sunday because it'll have been a week. I love my TWA and I'm so glad I've found things that work for me!

That's important to remember with hair in general. Not every one method is going to work for everyone, but it's great that there is now SO MUCH information available (especially for natural hair) that help to make the process a much easier one. Without those resources I would probably be counting down the days 'til a relaxer--I draw not only inspiration from the beauty of women with natural hair and websites like Le Coil and Natural-Belle, but also from the tutorials and recs. Here are some things I've learned about my hair on this journey...so far:

1. No Brushes: Brushes do not get to the root. When I was brushing myself I was doing nothing but allowing my hair to clump and coil over one another, and because nappy hair is already tightly coiled and prone to nots, brushes aren't really doing much for it.

2. There can be too much of a good thing (in regards to shea butter): Go to any natural hair site and you will see that us natural girls LOVE shea butter. However, because shea butter is organic and VERY creamy, not much of it is needed. I learned this the hard way, after applying shea butter to my hair everyday for two weeks and realizing that my hair would become somewhat oily. This also has to do with the fact that I used a brush on my hair everyday, instead of just using a comb to detangle after washing. For me, shea butter is a good midweek moisturizer because my hair is still short with thick, dense curls, there's no need for me to use it every day. It is still one of the best decisions I could've ever made, and a 7 oz jar was $6. Shea butter also does wonders for the skin!

3. Combs can be your friend: A lot of naturals have different thoughts and opinions on combs. Some don't use them at all ever for anything, and others--like me, think they can be great for detangling. Because my hair is so thick, I decided to detangle. It was a great decision, after washing my hair I combed it to get all the knots out and my hair has been great ever since. It doesn't have build up after 3 days, and I don't need to wash it midweek. I wouldn't recommend combing the hair when dry, as it manipulates the natural texture of your hair--that's what fingers are fore ;)!

My mom and cousin are coming to visit me tomorrow! Dinner, the mall, and Target to get my Halloween stuff. I'm doing DIY because I'm going to be an alien which involves silver body paint, glitter, foil and leggings...

until next time,
revolution grl

2009-10-21T19:49:00.004-05:00

Hey y'all (the imaginary y'all as I only have one follower, lol) here are some topics I am thinking about updating on...soon:

Why is the female POC in an interracial relationship ALWAYS more attractive than their white counterpart?
-This is a trend I've seemed to notice a lot, and yes I am generalizing because I know not every minority woman in a relationship with a white person is going to be ions out of said white person's league, but it's *just* an observation that seems to repeat itself quite often. I am actually quite surprised when the two are equal or the woman is uglier than the guy (although, as noted in an earlier post, that's rare in general.) While I do see this with black women, I tend to see it more common with white men who date AA (Asian American) and other minority women who aren't black--the dichotomy with black women especially is another topic (further down on the list.)

Black Americans vs Foreign Blacks and how white people have managed to divide and conquer:
-This is a topic I find as equally interesting as I find it depressing. Until I became more aware of race and reading online blogs dedicated to the dissection of race, I had absolutely NO idea there was this HUGE divide between American born black folks and those of the diaspora. I am still learning a lot about it, and although I know googling and research will yield some eye rolling results, I want to delve deeper into this before I make the post. But it's one I DEFINITELY want to do--I'll also discuss how 1st and 2nd generation foreign blacks play into (or shatter) the "model minority" stereotype placed upon them--something I've witnessed firsthand. And of course, there will be lots of talk about how white people contributed to--and continue to contribute to this divide amongst black people.

American Blacks: why it's impossible to be yourself when your own race is dictating what it means to be an individual and still be black:
-The bolded description for this one doesn't really word it how I'd like it to be worded, but then again it is just a tentative outline. I think any black person who has ever dressed "weird" or listened to any subgenre of rock and talked "proper" will know what this is about ;D. I'll also touch on how white people contribute to this, and why they reinforce so many negative stereotypes about American black folk while still allowing themselves complete individuality.

Why does a black woman have to be exceptionally beautiful to date a white guy when any other woman can barely achieve the "average" mark?
-This kind of ties into my first topic only not really. I've noticed a pattern in bw/wm relationships and the woman is always super pretty. Yes, most men want an attractive woman--no brainer, but these same men would date a women who ISN'T black and have waaaay less rigorous standards. I also notice that when I do see the rare bw/wm relationship, the guy is surprisingly attractive (the high end of average to very good looking) but when I see his past girlfriends they were conventionally pretty to average nonblack women.

Why you might wanna check up on that cute weird guy no one else is checking for:
-As a girl who is totally into that quiet, shy, "weird", and yes--still cute--guy who all the other girls either completely ignore or turn their nose up at, I definitely want to explore why that might just be the guy to check for! I've never understood why the cute nerds get overlooked for a guy who might be built but is nothing more than eye candy. While this might create more competition for my precious nerds, they need to get some love. I'm not sayin' you have to go out and get you an Urkel, but what about Lupe Fiasco, John Francis Daly, or Michael Cera?

Stay tuned...

2009-10-19T22:01:00.005-05:00

There have been a couple of changes here at Revolution Girl, in the form of changing up the blog template and adding a playlist! I used to go to pages and think the automatic music was so annoying but after awhile I kind of liked it. When done right, the playlist can set the mood for a blog, and while I think I did a poor job of doing so, I do think the songs are pretty awesome--but probably because I like them. If you don't like the music however, you will find my latest addition to be annoying and unnecessary--I feel you, I've been there, but I like it ;)!

I've been wanting to type and entry for awhile, but I've had nothing to blog about. It's not that all of my problems magically disappeared--definitely not, it's just that I get really fucking tired of analyzing the ways of fucktards in a way that will keep me feeling sane and like I'm going to have some kind of a breakdown one of these days. And on top of all of my real problems my former best friend is also being a huge baby and won't get it through her head that I don't want to be friends anymore and instead of moving on with dignity she came to my dorm crying and yelling like a psychopath. I know I sound bitchy right now, but honestly I've got enough problems to deal with besides her being clingy. So I have a few things I'll blog about just because I really want to update (even if it is a filler entry) so I'll touch on this mess:

Like many people, I enjoy Family Guy a lot. Sometimes the humor cuts it close in the, "Lines You CANNOT Cross" category, but for the most part it is every funny and delivered in a way that isn't offensive. I especially love a recent episode in which Stewie (my favorite character, followed by Quagmire) and Bryan travel dimensions. In one of these dimensions they encounter a world where humans are domesticated and pets are the human-like rulers of society. When they encounter human Bryan, he follows them back to the dimension that is human run, upon reaching our universal he says, "I'm going to go out into the world and try to make something of myself." Bryan (or Stewie, I can't remember) responds with, "it should be easy--you're white." The above is classic Family Guy humor, where amongst all the ridiculously wonderful pop culture references, Seth McFarlane shows deep understanding of American society and just how it works.

It is because of this that I was disappointed in The Cleveland Show. When I'd first heard about Cleveland getting his very own spinoff I was skeptical. I didn't know how MacFarlane would deal with an actual show focused on black people and not just sometimes talking about them. While I think he does a good job of being semi-culturally sensitive and making one think when necessary, I did not know how I felt about him writing an entire show about black people.

The Cleveland Show sucks. I would not be surprised if Seth MacFarlane had no black people working for him or had 1-3 tokens who had no real say in things other to cosign and be his "yes men." I know it's still time and the characters plotlines can always get better (hi, American Dad!) but that doesn't explain the daughter being a tart and the Black Baby Stewie being a child Quagmire with an "urban accent." For real? Yeah, for real. I mean, why can't the daughter be a nice balance of being desirable and still having a brain? On Family Guy we have Meg who is "ugly" and also average in every other way, on American Dad we have the...um, kinda gothy daughter whose name escapes me who is smart but also "an extreme feminist"-type, and then we have Cleveland's stepdaughter who's a dumb tart. I know it's only 3 or 4 episodes in, and that I could only make it through like 10 minutes of each, but I saw enough to know that they didn't even get a little bit better each episode. I am completely underwhelmed.

And despite my critique and disappointment, I must say I was not surprised. In giving the show the benefit of the doubt, I also knew to expect the worse. But you know what the really sad part is? A Tyler Perry cartoon would've probably looked strikingly similar, only with some church thrown in and talk of abstinence.

Until next time...

My Truth is Not Imagined

2009-10-12T11:11:00.003-05:00

One of the many reasons why I feel it's important to surround myself with as many black people as possible--especially on this overwhelmingly white campus, is to reassure myself that I am sane. I've been dealing with a lot of shit these two months (God, it feels like it's been so much longer) and in a sea of people who look at me crazy and make me feel like the racism and exclusion I'm feeling is imagined, it's wonderful to have friends who don't do that. It's so nice to have people who are experiencing the same things, and while it sucks to know that I'm not the only one, it's nice to know that there's something inherently wrong with me.

Yesterday my friend Kaylan and I studied for our greek myth exam today (I am so ready, gonna ace it!) and he brought a friend along as a moderator to help us study. When his friend left the room to use the phone I asked if that was his roommate, he said no, he was just a guy who lived upstairs from him. I asked if he liked his dorm, and he said "no I don't know those people and I don't want to know them." I found it odd that he felt exactly as I did (I hate my dorm so much I put in for a transfer) and so I asked him if he felt invisible and like people saw right past him, and he said that was exactly how he felt.

We began to share stories about what it's been like these past couple of months--him his Obama poster being ripped off his door and left outside for him to clean up and see, both of being vehemently ignored and looked at hostilely, as if we do not deserve to be here just as much as anyone else, snide comments, etc. When I told him about the nigger incident with my former friend he was the first person whose mouth went agape and who reassured me that--yes, that was completely wrong and yes, someone should have reprimanded her. When I told him I'd reported it to the higher ups in my dorm and that nothing was done about it, he shook his head and said that was ridiculous, and I thought I would cry because someone finally understood.

I will never understand how a person of color--how black people are able to navigate a white world without nary another person who looks like them around. I am well aware that we are not a monolith and that we are share different experiences, but there are some things that black people will get that white people won't. It's nice to be able to recount painful experiences and not be made to feel whiny or "playing the race card", it's nice to have some reassure me that my pain is real and not imagined. I honestly think I would go crazy otherwise.

Album Review + Blurb

2009-09-28T23:27:00.004-05:00

So my (Married) Boyfriend Who Doesn't Know it Yet (one on a list of many...), Sondre Lerche released his new album last week. I first got into Sondre in '07 and I absolutely love his music. He's the kind of artist you grow with not out of because his music is so wonderful, fantastic, and classic. His music is classic indie pop ballads and even when he switches it up a bit, it's still nothing that veers too far from his original sound that it ends up alienating fans. That is what happened with me and Arctic Monkeys, after waiting patiently for the album for over a year I was rewarded some shitty mess that sounds like basement rock that never should've been let out of the...basement.

But moving on from disappointing former favorite bands, I finally downloaded Sondre's album from iTunes yesterday and, ah, heavenly! I was instantly in love with the album from the first track, and I was reminded of what drew me to his music in the first place. Heartbeat Radio is Sondre's 6th release, and while a lot of the tracks are not as upbeat as his previous effort, Phantom Punch (which received much critical praise) it is still a wonderful album with catchy tunes not to be overlooked or written off. While I am not much of a fan of the title track, I am in love with If Only (it samples a song that EVERYONE samples and yet I can't remember its name) and I Cannot Let You Go. Some other great tracks are Easy to Persuade, Words & Music, Good Luck, and Goodnight--buy the to checkout those ;)!

Sondre is for anyone who is a lover a good pop music--and by pop music I don't mean the catchy goodness of Britney or Lady Gaga. I mean people who like simple ditties with great choruses, actual music and not computers, and who like music that while being classified as "pop" (or, "indie pop" as Lerche is more aptly referred to) is also worth the while.

Some favorites of mine:

On the Tower

Airport Taxi Reception

Happy Birthday Girl

(I Wanna) Call It Love

Like what you hear? Head to your local record store or itunes!

In other news, I had a pretty good day today! There was an NABJ (National Association of Black Journalists) meeting and we broke up into workshops based on our sequences. Despite the fact that ~newspaper is dying~ I went with print. It was announced that the best of the best from each group would be read aloud to the whole room and guess who was chosen from the print folks? YEP, ME! I was very shy and didn't want to stand but heard people whisper about how great it was and after class a lot of people came up to me and told me they really liked my lead! I felt honored :).

It was also announced that this year's media tour would take place in NYC this year!! It featured a skit of that Jay-Z and Alicia Keys (I actually like the song but I've only heard it once so names escape me!) We're visiting lots of cool places, including NBC/Universal, I'm going to try to meet Conan...The requirements are at least 2 fundraising events (8 hrs cleaning up the stadium counted as two so yay! go me, although I'm still going to do more because I enjoy it) and a *positive* attitude which, despite what my blog might suggest, I always have. Haha.

I am also writing an article for our upcoming (online) newspaper. I pitched it to an editor and she OKayed it on the spot--it's about accepting diversity in college while not alienating/running away from those of your own race. And it's after midnight...

<3,

R. G.

P.S. Haven't gotten a haircut in almost a month, I am digging my TWA though.

Hot for Tutor

2009-09-26T20:32:00.003-05:00

So keeping with the theme of my last blog entry, I'm going to talk about something lighthearted...

I stalk my Spanish tutor.

OK, that's a lie--I do not stalk my Spanish tutor as that's weird and creepy and even I, a sexually frustrated hopeless romantic, has to draw the line somewhere. But I do have a bit of a crush on him, and he is the most delicious eye candy I have found since being on campus. It all started with an email informing me that I had been assigned a tutor 2 days a week, an hour for each session. The only thing it told me was his first name and to look for the sign with said name, and my friends and speculated over what he could possibly look like. We were torn between really hot and scary, as he shares his name with a certain infamous boxer.

I wasn't too interested in how he looked either way, as Spanish is not my strong area (kind of like math) and I was more interested in if he could help me attain my goal of solid B for the semester so I can make the Dean's List. On the first day of tutoring lessons I wore jeans (and not my sexxxy jeans, mind you), one of my dozens of t-shirts, flip flops, and NO lip-gloss. My tutoring session was to start 10 minutes after my class, and I was not particularly happy about having to lug my laptop with me so he could help me with homework, which is online.

And then I saw his face, and all of that was forgotten--except I cursed myself for not wearing chapstick or a cute outfit and barely wanted to look him in the eyes. Oh God, he probably thinks I have such low self-esteem--but moving on! He was really cute. I didn't think he was hot, as he was too clean cut and Boy Next Door to be hot, but he was definitely cute. He has a nice smile and light freckles across his nose, a generic haircut, and wears jeans and button-ups or a t-shirt, and sneakers. There is really nothing spectacular about him, but he is really good looking and really nice and did I mention I am incredibly sexually frustrated?! Because I am. I even read the Wikipedia page and some definitions on Urban Dictionary to be sure and yep, me all the way. At least I would make a good dictator, but moving on...

After my next tutoring lesson I decided that I in fact, did not have a crush on my Espanol tutor and that because he is so nice I had conflated that with a crush. Problem solved! I felt good, it felt good to be sane again and not talking about how omg! cute my Spanish tutor is. And then I watched True Blood on Sunday and realized something...

My Spanish tutor looks exactly like Alexander Skarsgard, who plays Eric Northman aka The Hottest Evil Vampire Ever Who I Have Waking Fantasies About. I also realized that because of this fact, there was no going back from my crush and that I didn't just find my tutor to be "cute and nice"--you know, because he has to be nice to me, but also really fucking hot. Because if there is anyone who oozes hotness it is Alexander Skarsgard, even his name is hot. Really, I love saying it.

And you want to know the really funny part about all of this? Neither of these guys are my "type." I tend to find blond hair and blue eyes to be the epitome of boring, and in general guys with those two traits never get a second glance from me--in fact, they're not even on my radar. But there is just something so sexxxy about Alex's portrayal of the badass 1000 year old Viking vampire Eric Northman that makes him undeniably hot to me. And because my tutor looks so much like him, it also makes him undeniably hot to me too. I swear, I am the luckiest girl in the world because I get to see that hot piece of mancandy every Tuesday and Thursday. Who cares if I'm pretty sure he thinks I'm borderline mentally challenged? And maybe it is a bit creepy that I wear my nicest jeans when I have to go to tutoring, and fresh makeup...I mean, yeah.

So I am completely hot for tutor. I am going to listen to "Don't Stand So Close to Me" by the Police (I've always been the type to like authority figures in the form of male teachers, go figure) and then Bones. He might not be Skarsgard, but he's close enough and only 4 years older than me as opposed to 15, and not an actor I will never meet. And yet somehow, still as unattainable...

2009-09-26T00:49:00.004-05:00

I know what it means to be black and in America. I know what it means to spend your whole life reaching for a dream, only to feel like no matter how close you come to accomplishing the things you set out to accomplish, the dream will always be deterred. Thursday I was looking at pictures on the internet and came across photos of a couple. It was a photo timeline, and while it was an interracial couple in their old age (the photos spanned 50 years) they reminded me of my great uncle and aunt. My Aunt Inez died over the summer, after being married to my Uncle Sonny (real name Edward, but no one calls him Uncle Edward--well, not a lot of people) for over 50 years. I felt nostalgic and missed him terribly all of a sudden, and so I picked up my phone and game him a call.

It took him awhile to get to the phone, but I was patient as he's in his 80s. When he answered I smiled so happy to hear his voice, and even when I reminded him of which niece I was, he said he'd caught my voice and knew it was me. I told him I missed him and asked about home, and he told me about the new grocery store that'd been built downtown recently and simple things like that--the things that count so much. We talked a lot about school, as he had a lot of questions and I answered them all enthusiastically and with a smile. I told him that it'd been rainy the past couple of days and that I was too cheap to buy a $15 umbrella, he told me that if I still didn't have one when I visited over Thanksgiving break he'd give me one. It's the kind gestures like that that I miss so much, that make me smile and want to cry and wrap my arms around myself at the same time. I told him I'd went to the bookstore looking for a sweatshirt that said my university's name and "uncle" after it but couldn't find one. I told him I wanted to buy it for him for Christmas--if I ever find one.

And then he asked me if there were a lot of black students on campus. I told him there were a lot, a lot more than I was expecting and that I was really happy about it. He seemed surprised and proud at the same time, and I was once again reminded of my history. I know what it means to be black in America, and while I may not think that we are completely free yet, I know that we are more free than my great Uncle Sonny ever had the chance to be when he was my age. He helped to build the Six Flags in St. Louis and raised all of his children to go onto to college or into a trade, to be supporters and providers, decent people. He's a faithful church going man who strongly believes in Jesus Christ and God (he asked me if I'd found a church home yet, and I felt bad about the lie I told. About looking but not being satisfied, when I am not even sure what I believe).

While I am doing everything I do because it's something I want to do, it makes me feel good to know that I am making my Uncle Sonny proud. It's just such an overwhelming feeling to know that he is alive to see me go off to college, to have the opportunities that he never had and wish he did. I think that is one of the important things we (as in the collective "we") as black people have forgotten...that your accomplishments are not just yours, but something for your whole family to bask in. That I am not just doing this for me no matter how much I'd like to believe that, but that my younger cousins are watching and even if they don't say it, they're thinking "maybe I can do that, too." And I hope they do.

My Uncle Sonny watched the I Have a Dream speech on television, he saw the live reports or JFK's assassination, he knows what it's like to drink from a water fountain marked "colored." He was shocked and in awe when Barack Obama was elected President, and he told me at the end of our phone call that he was proud of me and he loved me. And it is the things like this--that moment and those words, that mean more to me than anything. That mean more to me than what is means to be a young black woman in a white society; that mean more to me than my humanity being treated as less under the white gaze, of my sometimes extreme feelings of loneliness whenever I step foot on my dorm and am away from my friends and the wonderful atmosphere of campus. Because when it is all said and done, when I go to sleep at night and wake up in the morning to head to class, I know that there are people who love me and cherish me and who are rooting for me. People who are proud of me and people who came before me, and all of that means more to me than anything. It keeps me going when I do not want to, and I know that even on my darkest and most trying days, I have a family waiting for me. And that I cannot fail them or myself.

Connoisseur of Fruity Drinks

2009-09-24T13:59:00.008-05:00

Sometimes I forget that this blog was not specifically created to critique society or racism. I guess because I blog so infrequently (or maybe every few weeks isn't all that infrequent) I tend to only focus on issues that are glaring in my life, and not just the everyday joys and annoyances. Here is one of those entries!!!

So, I like to call myself a juice connoisseur. If it tastes good, I am in. I don't care if it's cheap or expensive, as long as it makes my spidey senses tingle I am up for it and will probably become a little addicted. Growing up I was always a fan of juice and soda--and when the soda resulted in 5+ bladder infections before I was 11 (and also really bad skin) I slowly weened myself off of it and fell in love with juice. I'm not a big water fan although I am *trying* to force myself to drink it more, but I do love Gatorade and Vitamin water. But this entry isn't and ode to juice, just wanted to give a little background before I got to my latest addiction: smoothies. I love smoothies, they tend to be filling and a great snack that doesn't leave you feeling weighed down mentally and physically. Unlike an ice cream cone, you won't feel sluggish after devouring a smoothie. My favorite flavor is strawberry (Strawberry Xtreme, to be exact) and my favorite place to buy a smoothie is:

Smoothie King is a truly divine place, where one has truly divine experiences. OK, so I am being dramatic but it really is wonderful. Over the summer, I made it a habit to go there once every couple of weeks, buy a medium-sized smoothies, and sit outside on my laptop for a couple of hours. Now that I'm in a whole new town for school I've been trying out different alternatives for Smoothie King, and while nothing even comes close I have found two that I like in particular. The smoothies served in the dining halls on the weekend are pretty good when not rushed...but when they are, they taste too watered down. Like crushed ice with a little juice thrown in for good measure. The second place I've tried that comes close to meeting my smoothie needs is:

Oh, it's delicious! It costs me $4.62 which really isn't that bad for a smoothie even though I really can't afford it (no job, living off of the money my mother gives me, etc...) I'd say it's almost smoothie heaven, although nothing will ever replace Smoothie King's Strawberry Xtreme in my heart, and as soon as Thanksgiving break rolls around I will be sure to show it some love back home.

I got a B- (82%) on my first exam in greek mythology. As I really enjoy the class and my professor, I feel like I could've--and should've, did better. So I am about to head to the library and read/takes notes over a couple of chapters in my psych book, as well as do some hardcore greek mythology studying/reading.

Until,
-Revolution G(i)rl.

It Had to Happen Sooner or Later

2009-09-21T22:11:00.007-05:00

Ever since I got to school, I've been "waiting for the ball to drop" so to speak. I've been waiting for the inevitable dumbass comment about race from a white person, and I've gotten it! It came from the person I most expected it to come from, Jenny*. Jenny is one of those white people who likes to talk in "black people accents" and use "black people mannerisms" when she wants to be funny. When I first met her, she told me she frequented 4chan, and while I find 4chan to be incredibly racist/not funny and a site that constantly excuses its racism as "jokes" and those (usually POC) who disagree with it as "oversensitive and PC" I attempted to give her the benefit of the doubt. But I was always hyperaware of everything she did and said, and of her subtle racism. Often times I became exasperated by it and her, but sometimes I really liked her and just rolled my eyes or shock my head.

The conversation started with Kelly* saying to me, "I hope I don't offend you** but I really hate rap music." I was quiet for a moment before saying, "why would your not liking rap music offend me? Not all black people like rap music, we are not all a monolith who like the same things, and I find it odd that despite my never mentioning rap music, you'd assume I like it and/or identify it as "my" music." She and Jenny, who I was was walking back from dinner with, were both quiet and Kelly said I was right and that she was "just checking." Despite how annoyed I was by her ignorance, I could deal with that--I was happy that I'd handled the situation in a way that (I hope) would cause her to think before she foolishly said some shit like that again, possibly to the wrong person. But I did not come here to be that Safe Magic Negro who educates white people on not saying stupid shit they should already have the common sense not to say--but more on that later.

Feeling brave, Jenny says, "I hope I don't offend you but I really need to get this off of my chest, but I used to use the word nigger a lot. Like, you know me and you know I'm not racist at all and I only used it because of 4chan and because I thought it was funny." I was quiet for a very long time. I didn't know how to react to this, and I wanted to think out my response before responding. I wanted to educate and not tell her, "fuck you I'm not here to be your black friend who co-signs your bullshit and forgives you on behalf of all the black people out there!" which is really what I wanted to say. Instead I told her that I appreciated her telling me that, but that I did not find the world "nigger" funny or acceptable in any way ever, and that one of the many reasons I despise 4cahan is that because it is a place dripping in privilege and racism disguised as "humor" for others dripping in privilege. The thing that pisses me off about 4chan is that it's not populated by backwoods hicks with one tooth who don't know any better, it is not the stereotype of what we would like to believe racists consist of. It's (mostly) young (white) people who know this stuff is wrong, but get off on having a place of anonymity to spew their hate-filled speech. It is a safe place for them. It's populated by people whom--if they really wanted to (and maybe they do, which makes it even more sickening) could understand everything I fight against, and am trying to understand myself. They just choose not to, choose to remain blissfully ignorant and hateful.

Jenny chose to blame her ex-boyfriend and 4chan for her use of the word "nigger" and I almost had to laugh at that shit. It's 2009, there is no excuse whatsoever for using that word--ever. She's 18 years old, there's no excuse for using that world. A friend of mine who is black tried to make excuses for her in the beginning (before I thoroughly explained what happened, but even then I don't understand how she could make excuses for a racist) and I was like, "how could anyone as old as her in 2009 not know that the world NIGGER is wrong to use? Sorry, fuck that and fuck her." She also mentioned how she's "changed a lot since she broke up with her ex boyfriend" you'd think it's been months, right? Nope, August! I find it hard to believe she *magically* stopped finding nigger funny in August, but ok!

In our (Jenny, Kelly, and mine) continued conversation on race, one that was nice to have with people who aren't a) black b) on the internet we also talked about the word nigger vs cracker/honky. I told them that it wouldn't make me feel better to randomly use the words cracker and honky because they'd probably laugh. I told them that neither word meant anything because they don't and never will, hold the same meaning and historical context as the word nigger. I told her it was why I couldn't forgive her for using it, because it's NOT ever funny and you ex-boyfriend and 4chan isn't a valid excuse for that, nor will it ever be. In fact, her using her boyfriend and a website as a scapegoat when she's 18 years old only made me want to yell, "fuck you" even more.

The walk back to the dorms was one that was mentally exhausting for me. It's amazing how something like that can change the route of an entire day, and I can go from being wide awake to feeling so tired and worn in an hour. She then relayed the story of how "once this white girl at my school said something mean to this black girl and the black girl is all, 'how can you even say that to me with what my people have been through?!' and I just thought that was so stupid, because all of that is in the past." I could not let that stand. Not only had this girl (probably intentionally) offended me at least 3 times that night, but now she was trivializing this girl's feelings? Jenny is a privileged white person if I ever did see one, and I felt like I had to say something not only for myself, but for that black girl who wasn't there. I told her, "while I respect your right to have an opinion that differs from mine, I have to disagree. When it's OK to tell the POTUS "you lie!" and have people say a half-assed apology is enough while Kanye West can be his usual ignorant self and people call for his head and describe it as "a nigger moment", I don't think anything is in the past. Maybe that girl didn't explain it to you, or you didn't want to understand, but I can see where she's coming from and I agree." This was immediately followed by a chorus of, "I agree!" and "you're completely right, and I completely understand!" but I wasn't listening to that shit. Fuck it!

When we got back to the dorms I started to cry as soon as I was alone. I cried because I was exhausted and vulnerable and because the very thing I was expecting to happen had happened.I left the dorms not telling anyone where I was going, and only texted one of the girls because they'd set off on a search for me and my mind could not handle seeing them in that moment. They told me if I still wanted to go see the movie that night it was fine, and I told them no. They've been trying to reach out to me (and Jenny sent a condescending message on facebook about how she's "sorry she upset me" and "worried they all were") and I loathe her so much I deleted it without even entertaining the thought of responding. I don't hate the other girls, but at the same time I don't know how to be friends with them when they are friends with her--or even if I want to. In case I haven't made it clear, there is no going back for me and her, I'm sorry she miscalculated the kind of black person I am. In a sick way, I'm glad it did because it gave me a good blog entry and a reason to REALLY be that black bitch who segregates herself. Only, a small part of me wishes that I were ignorant of these things until after college, because then maybe it wouldn't be so hard for me to navigate a world in which racism--subtle and overt, reign.

I was also going to make this entry about some interesting hair comments I've received lately--one that me and some mixed kid would have babies with, "pretty hair" and an older black lady telling me she likes my short haircut but could never do it herself because, "I have that Kunta Kinte hair! It wouldn't curl up like yours (here is my hair tonight)!" It is only because she was my elder that I smiled politely said, "thank you." It honestly never ceases to amaze me how even the slightest bit of something other than naps (which I think are beautiful especially because, uh, I HAVE THEM), leads people to fuss over how pretty someone's hair is. Even damn near bald, one can't escape it! But I'm all typed and bitched out, so until next time...

Tryin' to keep it real,
REVOLUTION G(I)RL.

*** LOL, I knew she was about to offend me. And she did too.

What College is Teaching Me About What it Means to be "Other" in White Society

2009-09-14T20:56:00.007-05:00

Holy long title, batman!

So all the talk right now is of the VMA's and Kanye's outburst doing Taylor Swift's acceptance speech. While I think it was incredibly rude and uncalled for, I also have my own thoughts on how folks seem to be calling for his head and had murdered a cute baby animal--or, to quote Katy Perry, "stepped on a kitten." I think there is at least some racism in this, especially when you bring some of the nasty comments of social networking sites into the situation. I am not a Kanye fan--well, I adore his music but I loathe him as a person. I loathe his hypocrisy and internalized self-hate as much as one can loathe another person without hating them. And while I often have to reconcile these two extremes against one another (love for his socially and politically conscious music that can also make me smirk on a bad day vs hating everything else that comes out of his mouth) that is another blog I am always thinking about but haven't had the time to really think about and type. There is also the talk of Serena Williams and her frustrated outburt when a judge made an unfair call doing her weekend tennis match. While I do think it was wrong for Serena to use the words she did, I do not think she was wrong to react. Of course, all the commentators--professionally and those anonymously behind a keyboard, are calling for her head amongst other things. While these two things have (sadly) been talk of the pop culture world, that is not what this blog is about.

I was reading this post over at Stuff White People Do and it hit home for a number of reasons. In fact, after reading a few of the comments I called my mother from my dormroom and had a conversation that with something like this:

Me: If college has taught me anything, it's that I really don't like you know who (see: white people)

My mom: But you said you were friends with a few, and you seem to get along well with them.

Me: I know. But I'm talking about as a whole.

My mom: Don't say that, everyone is different.

Me: I know, but they don't make it easy for me to like them.

My mom: But you seem to be doing well academically and involved in everything...

Me: Yeah, so I don't have too much time to think about how much I dislike the people I go to school with.

I realize that a lot of the above sounds like what white people (and others) say about black folks. I know that, and I get that, but it's just something I had to get out so I didn't go crazy. I also think it's different when minorities note not liking the majority race, because our anxieties usually come from a place of experience as opposed to generally racism. I don't think I am a racist, and maybe that it something I need to work out with myself.

As my mother stated, I am adjusting very well to college life. When people say, "if you hated high school you'll LOVE college"--they're not lying. College is wonderful and it's so nice to be in a place of academia where I don't feel like at any given moment I will be bullied or faced with the village idiot. I've made some great friends, I enjoy the work and the atmosphere, independence ROCKS, I am volunteering and committing to more organizations/events/community service than planned but it's all wonderfully fulfilling and easy to manage. When you spend most of your life just blending in and your entire summer after senior of high school on facebook, overworking yourself is a wonderful thing! In-between all my commitments, study dates, weekend outings with my friends, and working out about 3 times a week, I am very fulfilled--and always in bed by midnight!

However, that doesn't stop me from feeling like an outsider. While I attend a large state school and not some elite Ivy (that I imagine would be exponentially worse) I can still tell that the white students (specifically those in my dorm) are not very interested in getting to know me. I realize that I am very shy when thrusts into new situations, but it doesn't take a genius to be able to read body language. Awkward smiles in the hall, averting eyes, barely ever speaking to me or only doing so when they have to. I find it funny that when they do force themselves to acknowledge my existence, they call me by my name, when if you'd ask me I'd tell you I didn't think they know it. I know I am not segregating myself, and maybe because I am black they read my shyness as "intimidating and mean" and really...I don't give a fuck. I am so over always smiling big and having to say, "HI!!!!!!" for white people to realize I'm not an Evil Black Bitch or out to get them. And even then, I still don't feel like I'm any closer to a genuine connection or friendship. I know that there is really no way I can remedy this situation other than building strong friendships with the friends I have and other people who seem wonderful; because, really how can one "fix" a problem with the people perpetuating don't know they are doing so and/or don't care or would just blame me for thinking "everything is racist"?

I came to this school because it's in-state and the best journalism school in the country, I came to get an education and smile benignly at all of them when I get my degree. I came to be the best, work hard, get involved, and have a fulfilling experience. So while I would like to have a diverse group of friends with differing viewpoints and life experiences (this is why I am thinking about joining the Multi-cultural Issues club) I am not willing to do so at the expense of my sense of self or who I am. I went to my first National Association of Black Journalists meeting tonight and it was so wonderful to be around people who look like me! I know we (black people) do not all have the same thoughts or shared experiences, that we are not one monolithic group, but it was nice to feel united tonight and know that there was at least one other person in that room grappling with some of my same frustrations. I also saw two ladies with rockin' natural hair (I see quite a bit of that on this campus!!!!) and shared compliments, tips, and solidarity (lol.)

Until next time...
-REVOLUTION G(I)RL

Anti-Racism and College

2009-09-01T22:20:00.005-05:00

So I've been here two weeks, and while college for the most part is stacking up to be quite the enjoyable experience, it is also hard to feel completely comfortable when I feel so hyper aware of everything race related. There's a lot that has happened that I don't really know how to confront, so instead I will touch on each point individually as I remember them.

Suburban white kids and wanting to live in "the ghetto."

My first day here I spent time with my roommate, Claire*. Claire is a nice girl--very fun, energetic, talks very fast and likes to have a good time, nothing wrong with that. She was eager to get to know new people, while I was shy and quiet because that is my nature. While I am quite talkative and energetic once I get to know someone, I present an exterior of coldness and unfriendliness, because--to put it bluntly--I have been shit on too many times by people in the past. I know that people, no matter the race are apt to say things behind my back they wouldn't say to my face, and with white people these things can be especially cruel and race charged. While I don't feel inferior to white people by any means, I do feel uncomfortable around many of them and their motives.

That brings me back to Claire. We discover that a friend she went to elementary an middle school with, Kate* is also in our dorm. We talk and they smoke cigarette after cigarette, eventually we met a couple of other kids too. The day is long and spent outside, and while I am enjoying myself I am also uncomfortable not just by being the only PoC surrounded by white people, but because I notice I am vastly different from this group of people personality-wise. I'm going to skip over some of the more tedious details, and get to the point; Kate makes a casual statement while smoking a cigarette that she, "always wanted to live in the ghetto." I think it was a discussion about schools and neighborhoods, and how one school happened to be in a bad neighborhood. Kate goes on to talk about how there is just something so interesting and exciting and daring about, "living in the ghetto." And I don't say anything--I don't laugh, smile, or even roll my eyes. I just sit there, noting this moment. Noting that even though she will forget about it in minutes, I won't.

It always amazes me how white people are so engulfed in their own privilege that they don't realize how completely stupid they sound. This girl grew up upper middle class, and to her, living in "the ghetto" would be nothing more than roughing it for a little while. She is exactly the kind of person who causes gentrification and doesn't realize it nor give a fuck to even think about it. I've lived in "the ghetto" and it's not just a playground for white people to say they've lived amongst "those poor people who aren't trying to do anything for themselves!" For her, it would be something temporary and cool to do, after all in the end she could run back to her cushy life in suburbia and pseudo-liberalism (white liberals: another subject for another day.) For many other people who live in "the ghetto" it would not simply be that way, and not just because they won't "pull themselves up by the bootstraps!" but because of institutionalized racism and not having the resources--things that people like her blindly perpetuate. I know it's kind of hypocritical of me to ranting about this now and not at the town, but I am only 18 and these things are desperately hard to bring up with people who have not, and do not, plan on taking their privilege into account.

Suburban white kids and gangsta rap

Last night I was in my room studying when I heard this loud rap music coming from outside. It was hardcore stuff that I could not name off the top of my head, but I recognized N.W.A and artists of the like. I don't have any problems with white people listening to what is coined "black music", but I do think it's fishy when they are sitting outside, drinking beer, and I've seen one of the said suburban white kids in a Ronald Reagan t-shirt before. What kind of respect or comprehension could he possibly have of N.W.A? I mean, really? I'm sure they all had fun using the word "nigga" while drunkenly rapping and feeling cool because they listen to black people music!

What also bothers me is that these are the same kids whose privilege allow them to sit outside of our dorm and drink alcohol, who don't have to worry about if they'll be charged disproportionately to the rest of their friends (like the Token Black Guy who hangs out with them--and I will also sound like a hypocrite later in this blog entry!) If they listened to N.W.A or Public Enemy while taking in the actual message of class, politics, and socioeconomic status I wouldn't be so bothered and put off by this. But they aren't and they won't, these are kids who want to live in the ghetto for fun and who wear Ronald Reagan t-shirts.

Being the Token Black Friend (TM)

As previously mentioned, I'm going to sound like a hypocrite in this blog entry. It is noted and I am trying to figure out ways to overcome being so--this blog helps a lot, to air out frustrations and also think of ways to proactively better myself and handle said situations. So as I mentioned earlier, these Suburban White Kids have a Token Black Friend. He's the stereotypical quiet, mild-mannered "non-threatening" black guy who kind of hangs around them, doesn't say much, and laughs awkwardly at their jokes and let's them use the word "nigga" around him (more on this later). While I try not to openly show my disdain for him, I also don't particularly respect him.

But I am the token friend, too.

I've noticed these patterns on my predominantly white campus with minorities sprinkled throughout:

*All the American black girls hangout together in little cliques.

*All of the foreign/first generation black girls hangout with white girls or with each other.

*A lot of black guys are one in a sea of giggling white girls (and dating one of them).

*One black person (girl or guy) with their white friends of the same gender.

I try not to fall into any of these groups. The two people who I feel the most comfortable around is my best friend from home and another girl I met while at freshmen orientation, both are black. Yesterday while eating lunch with a group of girls from my dorm I saw a diverse group of friends (2 white, 2 Asian, 1 black--there were also guys and girls) and kept staring at them. I wanted to know how to get friendships like that--where diversity actually meant diversity and not tokenism or excluding oneself.

I have still not mastered this, yet I met a conscious effort not to be surrounded by one group and to try and make friends with people of my own race especially when we are so scarce. In my dorm there are maybe 5 black kids, and none of them hangout with each other except for a girl I went to my first high school with and a biracial girl. I love seeing them together and not running off to find some white clique to be accepted into.

While I didn't go off looking for white girls to fit in with (I actually wanted to avoid that), it has happened. My first week here I felt so out of place in the dorm, and cried on the phone with my parents about how no one talked to me and I knew it was because I was black and they automatically assumed I was a bitch and/or had nothing in common with them. Somehow these four girls and I (all quite different) became friends and are now known as "The Fab 5."

We all have labels, and when coming up with mine one of them stated that I was "the Black One." Oddly enough, this girl is my favorite. I don't believe we live in a colorblind society--and while I lik that my race was noted, being labeled "the Black One" also seemed to strip me of my identity as a human being. White people are allowed to be different--the Indie One, the Nerd, the Emo, and the Scene One and yet I am relegated to "the black girl." I make the comment that I must be the token black friend and think about that comment for the rest of the night.

While I don't want to be anyone's token friend, I somehow am. And while I feel like she didn't mean any harm by the comment, I also feel like I can't be completely comfortable or myself. They're awesome girls--we study together, eat dinner together and workout together, yet at the same time I am constantly aware that some of my jokes or the changes in my voice may be misread as "a black girl thing" as opposed to a "having a personality", thing. I am conflicted on being happy that my friends notice my race and don't believe in that "colorblindness" bullshit (at least, I hope not...) yet at the same time I am very observant of the way in which my race is mentioned, and in what context.

So while I may be the black girl who hangs out with all those white girls, I also try to make sure that I am surrounded by awesome black people as much as I can be, too. It's a balance, and while I don't see the world in black and white (race-wise) it's better than only surrounding myself with one race. I don't want to be someone portal to all black people, nor do I attempt to represent the whole race by being the best non-threatening Negro ever, unlike the Token Black Guy mentioned earlier. My friends are smart girls who are a little quirky, not obnoxious and fond of using "nigga." But am I really any better than him?

Suburban white kids using the word "nigga."

This is what really made me finally update my blog despite exhaustion and knowing that it'd take awhile and I'll end up going to bed later than planned. I was sitting in my room, on my macbook, when I heard a guy who I am familiar with go, "what's up nigga?" to (assumed, more than likely)
another white guy. I became livid; livid, because I immediately knew all of them had that, "if they say it why can't we???!" mentality, and livid because my roommate was out there. My roommate lists her political affliation as "very liberal" and here is another example of white liberalism proving to be thinking we are all equal and "colorblind" and so "a word is just a word." Sorry, it's not. While I don't use the word nigga because I personally choose not to, I can understand the black people who do. It's taking a word (nigger) that once and still does have an ugly meaning and making it something to not hurt. Just because "we" use it, does not mean you (white people) can! I don't give a fuck if you were greeting your friend, meant it as friend, or if you listen to all the fucking rap music in the world that you probably really don't get.

I wanted to slap him for using that word. For (more than likely) identifying as liberal and yet not knowing anything about his privilege or ignorance, I probably wanted to smack him more than the Token who stood there laughing nervously. In that same situation I am positive I wouldn't have schooled him on being ignorant, but I would have left because of my anger. I was so angry that I updated my facebook status about it and then talked about in the comments with some other (black) friends. I knew my roommate would see it as I expressed my anger, and I want(ed) her to.

Claiming words are "just like the n-word"

I've met a really sweet girl here. Her name is Kelly* and she grew up on a reservation in California despite being white. She says that growing up the kids were mean to her, beat her up everything, teased and made fun of her, and called her "Okie, which is like the equivalent to the N-Word." Ok. So, as someone who was bullied relentlessly for 4 years of my life I can empathize with her. And because she's so sweet and oblivious--and does seem to be more adept to noticing racist things than others (when one of our friends talked in fake Chinese while eating, Kelly noted "you're being racist.") I honestly think that if she were introduced to a few anti-racist sites, she'd be receptive as opposed to obtuse and unwilling to understand her privilege. But still, there is no way that being called and "okie" is the same as being called a nigger.

Because, as soon as Kelly stepped off that revelation she was a teenage white girl. There is no safe haven for black people, we do not have the same privilege, and we never will. Even those Natives making fun of her will never have it, and so while I can understand how hurtful that was for her, she should just laugh it at like the white people do when someone calls them a cracker. Like when they are called a cracker or honkey and then laughed while saying, "okay, nigger." Which one do you think cuts deeper?

Kelly needs to understand that she is still white, and that in society's eyes that is all that matters. Those people who made fun of her will never weld her privilege or power even if she believes she has none and always complains about being, "super poor" (despite spending a year in my home state and graduating from one of the richest high schools in the district--my cousin's alma mater as well.) So while I am extremely sorry for all of the suffering and downright cruelty she suffered--nothing excuses that, I hope she educates herself and realizes it's foolish to ever equate any racial insult aimed at her with that of nigger.

All in all, school has been an interesting experience so far. My classes aren't too terrible, and despite sucking at it and it being my weakest subject, I adore Spanish. My instructor is pretty chill and explains everything slowly and thoroughly, and I started tutoring today--my tutor is very cute! He's a senior and is nice to me and although I didn't really want to look at him because I looked a hot mess and had on no lip-gloss (I really didn't care, I wasn't expecting someone attractive) I am definitely not going to missing any classes. I miss my family, my dog, and everything about home, yet at the same time it is not the kind of missing that's crippling or makes me hate school and only want to go home. I can't wait to go home this weekend for Labor Day, yet at the same time it wouldn't be the end of the world if I didn't.

Trying to keep 'em honest,
Revolution G(i)rl

* = name changed

it's so hard to say goodbye

2009-08-18T00:17:00.002-05:00

It is currently 17 minutes after midnight, which means that it is officially the day I leave for university. I've been on the verge of tears since I woke up yesterday morning, and I know that by the time my family leaves me alone on that huge campus I will have bawled. It's not that I'm not excited about university, it's not that I'm afraid of change, it's not even that I'm not happy to be getting the hell out of here, it is just that I am human.

I've always been weird and found it hard to fit in and make friends easily, and I think that is my biggest fear. Everyone says that college is "so different" from high school, and while I'd like to believe that I am inclined to be pessimistic. Everyone keeps telling me I'm going to love it and that I'll fit in really well, but for someone who's always been on the outside looking in, I don't know how that will be so. I definitely know I won't be attending any frat parties, but I still don't want to be confined to complete outside status. I think my sadness over leaving my family, my home, everything that is safe, is that I am now going to be thrust out into the almost real world of college life, left to fend for myself. Everyone who protects and encourages me will be two hours away, which is an infinity to me. I have a friend who will be attending the same school, but that's complicated and I also want to be independent and not depend on her too much.

I don't know what to expect. I know that I am going to make the best out of it and be myself and hope that for the first time that is more than enough. I am going to go into this scared shitless but with a postive attitude, knowing who I am and where it is I want to go. I'm going to work hard, study really hard, do all my assignments, avoid procrastination and facebook, not worry about guys. I haven't had a boyfriend in eighteen years, there's no need to go looking for one now.

I think I am going to pray; it's not something I do often, but when I do I always mean it. I am going to pray that I have a good semester, a good year, meet great people and avoid all of those who are bad for me. I am going to ask God for guidance and to lead me on the path to success, to help me keep my head on straight and remember the lessons my parents taught me, the things my mother aren't there to remind me of. I'm going to ask Him to help me to feel comfortable and not alone, because that is all that I want.

My bags are packed (except for my makeup bag and morning acne cream, lol), my feet are firmly on the ground, it is time to go. I'm going to sleep in my bed one last night and think of all the amazing times I have ahead, and remember that this is good. It is good.

The Big Chop (x3)

2009-08-08T03:04:00.006-05:00

Nnenna from America's Next Top Model, she's my favorite!!
Image courtesy of Google

Long time, no update. It's been almost a month, and I've been trying to think of something to update this blog about (as it has quickly become my favorite one because I am able to be completely honest and sometimes ramble) but nothing would come to me. I didn't want to just update with any forced topic, and although it is past 3am on Saturday morning and I should be asleep and battling my insomnia, I could not ignore the urge to write this entry. It's about everyone's favorite subject: hair!

When it comes to hair, I think my story is similar to that of many other black women. I was reading an article on Racialicious, and one of the comments said that "hair is for black women like body image is to white and Asian women." I've touched on my own struggles with how I view my body (something I still have no come completely to terms with, to be honest) but for the most part I think that commenter was right. For many black women, we fret over our hair just as much white women fret over being that perfect size 2 who resembles Twiggy in her 13 year old "prime." I find it funny that Twiggy herself has stating that her becoming a model was completely random, and that until that point she'd just been really skinny, gawky, and outcast, yet now young girls starve themselves to achieve that look. But this entry isn't about that--another post, maybe.

I got my first relaxer at the tender age of three. Looking back on it, it still makes me angry but mostly just sad that my mom felt the need to put chemicals in my hair that young. Of course I was too young to know anything about natural hair or institutionalized racism, and even my mother (who has since apologized and realized how damaging that simple act was) didn't think about it in those terms. I read a lot about how the need for Westernized beauty amongst WOC effects us all in different ways, and for black women that manifests in our hair. Most of us don't even see it as self-loathing or wanting to actually be white, and even as I type this entry I am still not sure if I see it that way. I think there is a distinct difference between getting braided extensions or some tracks in your head vs ranting, raving, and being obsessed with "good hair." I don't think a woman necessarily hates herself because she likes to wear a weave or get a relaxer, I only think that self-loathing comes into play when a woman reacts negatively to someone who doesn't adhere to those ideals.

Which brings me back to my own hair story. Growing up, I loved the way my hair looked after a fresh relaxer--I loved being able to run my fingers through it, being able to comb it and get it to be straight like all my favorite stars without the heat of a hot comb. I hate how after a couple of weeks it was still straight but not as easy to style, and most of all I hated how my "kitchen" was always the first to go back to being nappy. I liked the illusion of straight hair, and the relaxer made it possible to believe that my hair was really like that. I had no idea how damaging it was or that my hair was meant to nappy and tightly coiled, and that nothing was wrong with that. While my parents did a good job of instilling that I be proud of being a little black girl and also accepting of others diversity, they did not teach me to have pride in my beautiful natural hair.

I'd always had long hair, hair that came to my neck (which was considered long amongst my peers and family). However, my hair was very thin and damaged from all the relaxers, and I had too many split ends to count. One day my cousin was trimming my hair, and it turned into a complete haircut because my ends were so split and damaged. I cried the whole night because I could barely get my hair into a ponytail and I felt ugly. Up until that point, I had never had to question hair because I had enough. I could easily put it in a ponytail or bun, wear it straightened and tuck it behind my ears, I'd never had to deal with that can of worms when it came to hair. My hair was not long enough to be fawned over, but not short enough to warrant schoolyard comments, either. As I type this I am thinking about so many stories I've heard from friends and family over the years as it contains to hair. My mother who growing up was "light-skin with hair down her back" and who was taunted by the schoolyard kids so much she convinced my grandmother to chop it off. Once my mother had very short hair like the majority of the other kids, they all snickered and asked her, "girl, why'd you cut all that pretty long hair? You're stupid." You just can't win, and my mom learned that the hard way. My mom never thought her hair made her better than anyone, and just wanted to fit in--it was others who made something of her hair, who placed her whole identity in its roots.

That haircut was the beginning of my love, hate, and eventual love again of my hair. It was when I started to connect my hair to my identity, and think that it (or the lack of it) made me pretty or ugly. I still remember the day I watched The Famous Jett Jackson and washed my hair over and over and over again, thinking if I washed it enough it would be curly like the biracial girl who played his best friend. I was nine years old. I was eleven when I got my first weave and had people stopping me in the grocery store thinking my hair was real, telling me how lovely it was. I would stop in the frozen dinners and ice cream isle to toss my hair back and forth, admiring myself in the reflective glass. In middle school I got my hair cut into spikes like Fantasia and went to the beauty salon every week to have my hair fried, burned, damaged, broken off, and of course--permed every 3 months. This repeated itself over and over again until 10th grade.

Although my hair was a major source of pain for me, along with that came my low self-esteem and being bullied by my peers. It didn't help that I was timid and passive and didn't know how to defend myself, but all of this coupled with me being so "different" from the other kids (of all races) made for a very lonely and sad girl. One day I was so frustrated with myself that I took some blunt scissors, went into the bathroom and stood over the sink, and chopped my hair off. I thought that if I "made myself ugly", then the words of others could no longer hurt me, I'd be impenetrable. I looked like a fool--my hair uneven, plugs in my head, the whole thing, but I went to school with confidence and not caring. For the first time in my life, I was liberated and free. That weekend I got a formal haircut (thank God) and it was the beginning of me reconciling not only with my hair, but with myself.

In attempting to make myself ugly, I'd actually made myself beautiful. I was no prepared for all the compliments I started to receive--people telling me how pretty I looked, random strangers stopping me in the streets, department stores, and the mall to tell me my cut was wonderful and I looked lovely. I had been taught from birth that the only way to really be beautiful was to have long flowing hair, hair that is easy to comb and blows in the wind like on the shampoo commercials, and here I was with no hair at all being told I was pretty. I didn't like how so many people asked me, "why'd you do it?" or thought it was awesome that I was making some kind of "fuck the mainstream's beauty ideals!" political statement when I wasn't at all. In fact, I was probably at the lowest point in my life when I chopped off my hair, and nothing made sense. I just wanted to be free.

I wore my hair like that until 12th grade year (the year that I have just finished) in which I alternated between micro braids and an afro. Although I'd started to grow my hair back, I refused to get a relaxer; I hadn't committed to being a full blown "natural-head" but I also knew I would never damage my hair again. Sometimes I wore a weave, sometimes I got my hair straightened, but I felt proud to be chemical free. Over the summer my mother and I had been fretting over about what would be done to my hair when school started--I'd get micros, but what about when it was time to take them down? I'd experimented with a twist out on my hair and looked lovely although my mother--in case you didn't have a slight hint, is no fan of natural hair. I became panicked, thinking back to the days when my hair embodied everything I spent all of my time thinking about and fretting over. I knew then that I could not start university in that mindset, already with something so trivial and stupid on my mind, and it was then I decided to do what was best for me and also worry free: the big chop!

I went to barbershop smiling and grinning, my old barber saying, "you're back again! Look at all this pretty hair, you sure you wanna do it?" I smiled and told him yes, and there were no further questions or protestations only, "well, at least we know you'll have no problems growing it back again when you're good and ready!" And I feel...wonderful. My friends are all supportive, (my fellow natural hair girl with beautiful locs being my loudest and awesomest ally!) I posted a few pictures on facebook and was immediately bombarded with comments of, "cute!", "you look great", "I missed your hair like this!", and "no one else can rock it like you!" I know that when I step on that college campus, there is no one who can tell me I'm not fierce--bald head and all ;)! I don't know when I'll start growing my hair back again, maybe in April after I've soaked up enough natural hair tutorials not to be completely lost and flustered as I was this time, but I know I'll be ready. I don't think I ever want to wear another weave again although I still see no problem with braided extensions or micro braids...perhaps I will someday, maybe not. However, I do think that hair is a personal choice and a journey, and while my views differ from many others I can't knock 'em for seeing something differently from me.

This post only touches on the tip of the iceberg and the problem, but I have already written so much and it is now 5 minutes to 4am. However, I can already feel a follow up coming focused on the many comments I've received from other black women about how, "I could never pull off the bald look!" or "oh, I'd look so stupid like that." It also spills over into natural hair, as the one day I wore a twist out I got how it looked, "so good on *me*" but they'd just look, "stupid with it." Why do black women feel that chemicals and sores in our heads are more natural than the hair we were born with? Why do we turn a black woman wearing her natural hair into something that, "only the few can do" when it's something ALL can do? But that's another post...probably coming soon! ;D Also: I am pretty bummed I couldn't include a crappy graphic of bald beauty, straight beauty, and natural/afro/twist beauty but the only thing I hate about my macbook is the no free image editing software--that doesn't suck.

a little blurb on my life.

2009-07-15T14:15:00.003-05:00

So last night I went to see Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. I'd never been to see any of the movies at midnight (although I did go to a Harry Potter festival doing the release of the final book and got it 10 minutes after midnight) but as Half-Blood Prince is my favorite book in the series--and one of my favorite books in general, I felt like I needed to do this. And I am really happy I did.

My friend Ashley was making fun of me and telling me how much I "really need a man" because I told her that I was getting cute just to go sit in a dark theater for 3 hours, where no one of importance would see me. I did get the eye from a few of the other Potter-geeks in attendance, but...still. I was originally supposed to go see the movie with my friend Izaiah, but we couldn't get tickets to the same theater. IT WAS CRAZY TRYING TO GET TICKETS TO THIS MOVIE, even pre-ordering online the night before! It took me over an hour, and if it wasn't for my mom pulling out the phonebook and searching every theater in the Greater STL area, I probably wouldn't have been able to find two tickets. A few of my friends commented on how they wanted to go after the fact, but by the time they'd did that tickets were soldout so it was just me and my mom.

HBP was playing on 3 screens, and it was hard to find anywhere to sit--and we got there 45 minutes early. My mom and I ended up sitting in the front row, which turned out to be way better than being in the middle when it came to getting out the theater quickly and efficiently. There were so many people there, and I thought I was going to be the only person not in costume, but only 3 people dressed up. The movie started about 20 minutes late, and all while we were waiting there were some really obnoxious (or maybe excited? I can't tell the difference with them) frat boys yelling out "BILLY MAYS HERE" and other such stuff. When midnight rolled around they started chanting "HARRY POTTER" and "WE WANT HARRY" and a girl near the middle with a squeaky voice tried to get a "when I say 'HARRY' you say 'POTTER'" chant going. At one point they thought the movie was about to start when it was just the same Twilight trivia question for the 20th time, and I laughed really hard at their disappointment.

I'm not going to pretend to be above the madness, though. When the movie actually did start I felt this huge grin coming on, and I clapped for a good 30 seconds. The movie was wonderful, and Dan and the girl who played Lavender had great comedic timing. The movie didn't stray as far from the books as I'd been led to believe, and the few scenes that did seemed to fit nicely. They changed Cormac from his description on the books (foul personality, not very easy on the eyes) to just one of foul personality. And Blaise Zabini was hot.

We got home around 4am and I hastily washed my face and barely changed clothes, I was out within 10 minutes. I had a peaceful, dreamless sleep and was woken up by the sound of someone hammering something outside and my dog's morning routine of licking my wrists...blah.

There was some other stuff I wanted to talk about, but this is long enough.

Real Women Have Curves--but WHO defines "curves"?

2009-07-10T15:07:00.005-05:00

So, I did a blog on weight not too long ago. And while I stand by everything I said in that post, weight it something I struggle with on a daily basis and something I have been struggling with my entire life. Like race, no matter how much I talk about it or express my thoughts, there will still be so much more to say because it's such a HUGE part of what makes me who I am. Sure there are a lot of other things that make up me--much more important things, but my outerappearance is something society sees first, and something I am ALWAYS judged for first. It's not fair and I don't like it, but what can I do?

I was 60 lbs soak and wet until I turned nine. Growing up, I could eat anything and not gain a pound, but I was a picky eater and hardly ever ate and this troubled my parents. I had to take Flinstone vitamins everyday to help with my appetite and help give me the vitamins and calcium I didn't get due to my lack of eating. I don't know how it happened, but when I turned nine I started to gain weight and started to notice that I was bigger than the other girls in my grade. I went to an elementary school where the signs talking about "unity" and "togetherness" weren't just for show--we really did all like each other and we considerate of our peers feelings. It wasn't just talk or something said to make parents feel better about leaving their children with hyenas (other children).

By the time I was 11 I was 5'4" and 160 lbs. I wore a size 12 in jeans, and I definitely could not escape how much bigger than the other girls I was. I wrote in my paper journal about the diet I was on, about how fat I was, and about how I wanted to be skinny and have no thighs and stop being "complimented" on my "big legs." Big. Legs. To this day, I hate being told that; I know the people saying it (usually older black women) see it as a compliment of sorts, but I hate my legs. I don't want to be reminded of how huge my calves are and how they aren't defined like all the people with legs I admire. It is my motivation for walking 3+ times a week, for running in place, for being afraid to eat too much--but more on that later. So really, I've been struggling with weight all my life. Even when I was a skinny kid, I was aware of my weight--or lack thereof. I talk about how it's sad little girls are going on diets at 8, but I can understand where that mindset comes from. We are constantly from birth being told what is acceptable and what is not, and you are never too young or to old to understand that.

Around the beginning of May I decided to embark on a healthier lifestyle. I'd been on numerous diets before, and so I decided to shy away from that word. After all, this isn't solely a way for me to lose weight--while that is my main goal, it's also something I want to keep up and make into a lifestyle. I stopped eating all fast food completely except Subway, I cut out all soda (although I'd made this tough transition years before, now I could not even have the occasional soda), I decided to not only watch what I eat, but to exercise too. I knew that if I wanted to escape my "big legs", I'd have to start walking and jogging, too. I am also drinking more water, although that's been my biggest challenge (ha!) I started this journey 16 lbs heavier than what I currently weigh, and while I am 5 lbs to my short-term goal weight (to be met by Aug. 18th) I still have 25 to go to my overall goal weight.

When I think about what really motives me, it's that I don't want to go to university "fat." And that's a scary and sobering reality, because as much as I want to rave about fat being subjective, and loving my body, etc--I am still changing for others. Of course, I don't think I'd be so motivated if my own health concerns weren't involved too--my family has a history of diabetes (although my grandmothers and father's diabetes came from their body's simply not producing insulin, my mother's was from obesity), my mom had gastric bypass, practically everyone in my family is overweight. These are scary facts, and they help to let me know that I do not have the type of metabolism that will allow me to enjoy Ben & Jerry's and not workout. Hell, I can barely enjoy it when I workout.

But what bothers me is that even as I work to improve myself, even as I drop the pounds and start to think I look great--even when I reach my goal weight--to someone else I'm still going to be "fat." I am probably even exaggerating how fat I am as I type this--in jeans I wear a 12, 14, or 16 depending on the cut and in skirts and dresses I am a solid 12/14. I am probably more curvy than anything else, but when I look in the mirror I fear everyone else will see "fat." For someone who is so keen on being body positive and accepting of others in all of their forms, why can't I do this for myself? Am I a hypocrite?

In my summer of boredom, I've been talking to this guy on facebook every night. He added me early last month, and since he goes to my university I approved the friend request. The conversations are usually random and filled with silences, conversations using emoticons, him talking about how hungry he is and randomly quoting Nirvana, and the occasional cute animal .gif from me, talk of Harry Potter (me), or lefties vs righties debate. In conclusion, it's kind of boring and only a step-up from starting at paint dry all night. Yesterday I linked him to this image, because I thought it was funny/cute. He didn't reply for awhile--something he always does, and when he did he said, "eww fat person." That bothered me. Maybe it wouldn't have bothered me if he didn't talk about how since starting school he was no longer "the ripped football player I was in high school--just skinny", or how he rides his bike 14 miles a day and jogs 2, or generally inserts random anti-fat comments into our conversation. I think a lot of the reason I find the image funny is because it's this husky kid going ~haters gonna hate~, haha. Cute. But I'm not some really hot skinny dude calling someone fat, either. And anyway, in a weird "ask me any question and I will answer it" game he initiated, when I asked him what cartoon character he'd like to have sex with, he chose:

(That doesn't mean he isn't anti-fat (that cartoon is definitely what I'd call "curvy") or that it'd be OK to hate fat people just because he likes a cartoon with boobs (I don't got that, ass (def got that!), and thighs (def got those!!) I don't watch Drawn Together enough to know if I should be offended by a white guy finding a sassy, half-dressed black cartoon-lady hot, but then again it might be "funny satire" I just don't get. Like so much else...moving on.)

This is way am I always stop myself from enjoying a little snack, or why I'm afraid to eat too much bread, or that I went over a serving of unsalted peanuts (13o fat cals per serving--hello!) Because even though I am trying so hard, and even though I might even like my body, there is always someone else waiting to call me "fat." There are plenty of things about myself I can't change and that others will dislike, and I accept that--why is weight so different?

While I think curves are beautiful, and that curvy bodies aren't in any way "fat", there are others who will adamantly disagree. I'm sure there are plenty of cute guy out there who enjoy talking to me and dont' have anti-fat views, or who won't see my curves as something icky and gross; why do I let people I wouldn't want to be around anyway dictate my views? And who are THEY to define curves anyway? And despite my goal to lose 25 more pounds, my goal weight--while one that will look fantastic on me, still sounds fat (if only because it is over 130 lbs). I know I will always have a butt, hips, and thighs--and I am ok with that. More than OK even, despite what this blog post might imply. Ugh, there's gonna be a part 2 to this...

In the mean time, I am going to read fml and mlia (the latter really describes my life, which might even be less than average); hope my cousin doesn't bail on going to Panera and that the rain slows down (so far it has and the sun is out!!), and try not to feel guilty for eating soup AND how much bread the sandwiches at Panera have. Sigh. I realize now that this entry turned into a rambling, fumbling mess of a thing but...it's my blog, and a place to share *my* thoughts, no matter how incoherent they are. Which is why as previously stated, expect a part 2.

"Why are you so SENSITIVE?! I didn't know you were like that--I thought you could take a joke!"

2009-07-09T18:59:00.010-05:00

The quote I used as a title, expresses what this blog will be about. While I've been lucky enough to directly dodge the bullet of being accused of being "oversensitive" and "not getting something that's just supposed to be a joke" on most occasions--so far, I have witnessed this interesting situation indirectly on numerous occasions. As with most things that play out in a deliciously horrible way that they'd never play out anywhere else, I've witnessed this eye-roll inducing phenomena on the Internet.

But the quote I used for this blog, comes directly from something that occurred in my own life. It was doing 9th or 10th grade year, I can't really be sure because those two years blur together for me despite it being in '05-'07. It was doing my time in Suburban Hell, and I was in the library researching a project for English class (I think it was 9th grade). A neighboring English class was in the library at the same time, and my kinda friend Breanne and I went and sat next to a boy named Sam we both knew. He was more her friend than mine, as they partied together on weekends and I only occasionally spoke to him in the classes we'd shared together doing middle school--I was not cool by any definition of the word. He greets us and grins big, excited to tell us some joke he'd heard. In my early high school days I was just developing my love for sarcasm and dry humor, and even if I wasn't prepared to be utterly offended, I knew this "joke" wouldn't be funny. Corny probably, but never funny.

He then proceeds to start telling a Black Joke, and I don't remember how it started or any of the words, but only that it was a joke to mock Black people. I'm going to go off topic here for a moment, and just highlight how something like that affects the psyche. I don't remember anything else about that day--not what month or season it was, what I was wearing, the details of the joke, and as previously mentioned, I can barely remember what grade I was in. But I remember the library, I remember the look on his face as he began to tell that joke and when he realized I didn't find it funny, and I remember the coldness that existed between us afterward. Traumatizing or uncomfortable events that shape one's view of the world are like that; everything else fades away, like most inconsequential memories, but the ones that scar you? That make you ponder your world view? Oh, those are crystal clear and in technicolor forever.

As he started to tell his "joke" the look on my face completely changed. I still remember what I must have looked like--mouth wide, face flat, my eyes saying everything words would not do in that moment. My eyes kind of rolled in that, "are you really serious right now? Really?" kind of way, and then I gave him a sharp side-eye (note: If you ever want to check someone in a public setting without drawing unwanted attention to yourself, side-eye! Side-eye! SIDE-EYE!!!) He stops mid-word and looks at me, slightly embarrassed and very much so surprised, and goes "Oh. Why are you so SENSITIVE?? I didn't know you were like that--I thought you could take a joke!" I then told him maybe he could tell another joke, one that wasn't so offensive, but *his* feelings were so hurt, as if it was the other way around, and after that we talked even less than we already did.

Before I go into what I would've said if this event had occurred now and not when I was fifteen and ultra-passive (now I'm just passive), or why white people LOVE the line he used and all its variations, I'm going to decode exactly what he was saying to me.

"Why are you so SENSITIVE??"

What he really wanted to say is: why can't you just accept my joke as a joke? I don't actually *believe* this shit I'm saying, I just heard it from another (white) person and thought it was funny. Fuck. If you didn't find this awesome and funny, does that mean other black people won't either?? Ugh. I hate people who are PC.

Note: Instead of thinking about WHY I don't find this funny, he'll just chalk it up to me being another overly sensitive minority/black person. If he would've told a joke about a Muslim, a Jew, or "a chink eyes" joke, I would've been doubly offended. While I may highlight racism against black people from whites and other people of color, at my core is someone who is fiercely anti-racist. I just think that in order to be move toward an anti-racist attitude, I must examine and criticize those that aren't--no matter how harsh in tone I may sound.

"I didn't know you were like that!"

Translation: Oh. Oh. I thought you were one of those Tokens who let white people use the word "nigga/nigger" in front of you and then just laughed it off. I thought you were desperate to be accepted by me (mee!!!) and every other white person that you wouldn't take offense or--more than likely--would pretend not to be embarrassed by my attempt to shame you. I didn't know. And, now that I do know I just won't talk to you or try to be your "friend"* because you're whiny and are easily offended** and fuck that.

*So, anyone who thinks it's okay in any way, shape, or form to use Nigger/Black Jokes in my presence could never be my friend. This is another reason why I have so few white friends and actively look for other black people to be friends with. Even if a white person doesn't tell and offensive joke to my face, it doesn't mean they don't do it behind my back or when I'm not around, and that's even worse than someone letting me know what an asswipe they are. In retrospect, I appreciate Sam letting me know the type of person he is and how he views race and me as a person.

And now for the big picture: IT IS NOT OKAY TO TELL PEOPLE WHAT THEY CAN AND CANNOT BE OFFENDED BY. Especially when dealing with race and race sensitivity, it is never, ever okay to tell a black person--or any person of color, that they are "easily offended" or "too sensitive." It's really not, and I hate that so many white people think that they can do exactly that. I remember how right after President Obama was elected, there was this talk of a "post-racial" America. It is in my opinion another example of white people glossing over racism in favor of painting society is colorblind. I know that *I* still remembered a lot of the racist shit that went on doing the election, and in the past couple of months we've been anything BUT "post-racial." I've become desensitized to attacks on the First Lady (calling her a gorilla, really?) or the drawing of the Presidents with President Obama as a black spot with eyeballs (really?), black kids in Philly (yeah, how bumfuck and southern! LOL! /sarcasm) being told they can's swim in a "whites only" swimming pool, but these are only a few xamples of just how "post-racial" we are not. Yet these events are glossed over in the MSM and when people complain--yep, we're being overly sensitive. "Well! You people got your black president--stop whining!" I don't really have anything else to say about that, except a sad shaking of my head. Sigh.

What would I do now, if put in that situation? I would still give him the Side-eye of Doom, but I would also smile sweetly at him and tell him what I said in my last paragraph; I would tell him that you cannot tell other people they are being "overly sensitive" and you definitely can't tell me not to be offended by a Nigger joke. He probably wouldn't get it--or wouldn't care to get it, as he was (and probably still is) the kind of person completely comfortable with his White Privilege and probably has no concept of what it is anyway. And so because of this I wouldn't spend too much time on just why I was offended, or why he should take some time to ponder why I would be offended, but I would check him in some kind of verbal why. I also wouldn't have made some weak attempt to compensate for my being a "buzzkill" by asking him to tell another joke that wasn't offensive. I would've just shrugged my shoulders over his completely unwarranted bitching and been on my way, continuing my research. But the past is the past, and as all other situations it only serves as a point for past reflection, and future reference.

"Straight Outta Africa!"

2009-06-30T15:04:00.004-05:00

I know I keep alluding to this entry about my new found addiction to facebook, but I am just not interested enough to write about it yet--maybe I'm not addicted! Instead, I'm going to talk about more of my favorite subject: race, specifically pertaining to black folks.

I read a lot of blogs about race. It's always been something I was interested in, but as I am about to attend an university that is 83% white, I feel it's really important I become more self-aware of myself, and others. While I read a lot of blogs like Racialicious that deal with anti-racism as a whole--from the perspective of all races, I also read a lot of blogs from the perspective of black women. On all of these blogs, I notice that when it comes to being black a lot of people would like to see us represented in the mainstream more. That's understandable, as for years there's been a lack of black faces on tv, in high fashion, and an assortment of other places. We're either the Token Black Friend, comedic relief, or portrayed as one of our various stereotypes. Of course there was The Cosby Show, and Family Matters but there aren't enough shows like that for black people to negate all the negative ones.

I'm not much of a fashion junkie, as it all seems kind of pointless to me. As long as something looks nice on me and is comfortable, I'm good! My only luxuries when it comes to myself is my hair and my eyebrows--anyone who knows me well knows that I have an unhealthy obsession with my eyebrows. I don't care about anyone else's, but mine must be perfect at all times (they currently are not) or else I feel like my whole face is off. I've been going to the same lady to do my eyebrows for a year, and I don't know what I'm going to do without her come August...but I digress.

I notice that on many of the blogs I read, the complaints in the fashion industry is either that the models look too much like Chanel Iman (exotic and "not really black"), Iman ("not enough black features") or Alek Wek ("features are 'too black'"). I think all of the women I've mentioned are beautiful women, and I especially love this picture of Alek and Iman together! I think it highlights how black people come in all different packages, and that we can be as equally beautiful and different in those packages. There is not one way to be black, and my problem is with the comments like, "why do all of the high fashion models look straight outta Africa?!"

The (black) people who make this argument are not usually referring to models who resemble the lovely Iman or Liya Kebedle. While both of these women are African, they are from the Horn of Africa, where the features on the people tend to be finer and the skin lighter. When (black) people say a model looks, "straight outta Africa" the usually mean a country in West Africa--where the skin is dark brown and the features are phenotypically African. And that's when I start to have a problem.

Why is it that when talking about black people, instead of being happy that we're featured in the mainstream as beautiful, people have to complain if it isn't to their liking? I hear arguments like, "they were only chosen because they look like what people want to think all black people look like" but what is SO wrong with people finding someone with "African features" like Alek Wek beautiful? When I look at these women:

I see beautiful women who are far more beautiful and classy than any "video vixen" I've ever watched bob her head to a song calling her a hoe and cum-dumpster. I think for a lot of black people, someone who looks like Alek Wek is too much of an "extreme"--she looks too much like what so many of us are trying to escape. Someone who looks lik Oluchi is a happy medium--she is dark (so yay to the uplifting of us poor dark-skinned folks! /sarcasm), and her features are black but not "too black." Her lips ae full but not big, her nose ethnic but not too ethnic (much like my nose, the nose I got from my mother and the nose she loves so much. My mom and I both have BIG lips, so she enjoys commenting on our noses that are "black but not too black", only not in those words). I think if black women had their way, every model would look something like Jourdan Dunn:

She's clearly black, she's brown but not "too brown, light but not "too light"--that perfect brown color that is OK in anyone's book. Her features are black but not too black, and she looks like someone we'd all like to be friends with even if we're afraid she might get all the coveted attention from the guys. And if it wasn't obvious, I have a bit of a crush on Ms. Dunn myself! But when will we be able to appreciate those of us strutting our stuff down the runway no matter what they look like? When will it become "no big deal" if they look like Iman, Liya, Oluchi, Alek, or Jourdan? Will it be when mainstream society finally starts to accept and show black people in all of our likenesses? From those of us who like foreign films and alternative music to those of us who talk with Valley Girl accents? Is the reason we can't accept all of us--in all of our differences and likenesses because society hasn't yet? And if so, then this cycle will never end.

2009-06-28T12:55:00.005-05:00

I've been listening to Michael Jackson a lot since Thursday, and thus I have not been bitter/critically thinking enough about things that bother me to make an entry. It's still surreal that he's actually gone, but it's also wonderful that when I listen to him I forget, and that his music makes me--the girl wh is too sarcastic for her own good--forget about all of my problems. And society's problems, too. So instead of picking one topic to nitpick at in this entry, I'm just gonna do a recap of some stuff that's been going on in my life in the past week or so. Cool? Cool!

Freshman Orientation was alright. It was definitely too fucking hot to be outside all day, not near enough water, and going from building to building. But this is also my fault for taking jeans and wearing all black on the first day, all the other kids said I looked really ill. When I changed shirts they were like, "oh my God! I was sooo worried about you before." OK. I met my roommate in person (we're facebook friends) and she seems like a really nice girl, and I think as long as we aren't around each other long enough to learn our flaws, that we'll do great. She didn't ask me any dumbass questions, so that's a plus.

For the first time in my entire life I experienced some of those annoying White People-isms. Here is the list:

1. "I looooove black people's hair! I wish I had hair like you guys! I love touching my three adopted cousins hair!!" Now, I know you might be thinking I'm exxagerating, and that these words couldn't have possible for real came out of some white girl's mouth, but they did. They really did. And I immediately texted my best friend from home who is going to the same school as me and said, "I miss black people." I really did.

2. Imitation of what a sassy black person is like when angry. Giiiiiiirl. Another one did this, one who was blond and perky and who I would never actually want to be friends with. But the other one (who I kind of like despite her lies about wanting black people hair and thinking her "compliments" would make me feel accepted) knew her via a mutual friend so I was stuck with her. I was really offended and had to try really hard not to roll my eyes and confirm this chick's favorite stereotype. Instead I just sigh-eyed her hard since she wasn't looking. I bet she makes jokes about chicken and watermelon. I don't plan on hanging out with either of them next year, although when I'd FINALLY got a chance to be alone, in the shade, away from white people, the "I love black people hair!" girl brings her ass over to sit with me. Because, "you looked lonely and I like you!" -_-

And that's it. But it's enough. I did met an upperclassmen who invited me to join the Black Student Union (yes!) and a Black Christian sorority, but I equate sororities and frats with cults. And I'm Agnostic and hate that hivemind shit. Oh, I also learned that the first month of school is scortching and after 2 days of torture, I hightailed it to H&M as soon as I got home. I got a lovely dress for like $5 that looks really cute on me, but shows too much cleavage. I need to figure out how to fix that, stat. I also bought a skirt, some capris, a blouse, a cardigan, and a tank top that I should've gotten a size smaller in. Oh well. They had an awesome sale though, and everything was mostly $5, $10, and $15, hello?? I still have to go to Old Navy to get me about 10 pairs of shorts though, and I am not even kidding. I am going to be prepared for that sun, I even went to MAC to get some makeup that holds up in the heat, and when I go see my (sexy Indian) dermotologist on the 20th of July, I'm going to ask him about a sunblock that doesn't get sticky or react with my makeup. I will be prepared, and I will not do it at the expense of being kind of cute. A plus about the weather: There is so much walking, and so much heat, until you can't eat. Or at least I couldn't--not for two days.

When I got home Jaz, my mom, and I went to see Transformers 2. I am a HUUUGE Shia LaBeouf fan, I've been one since he was awkward with a Jewfro in Even Stevens. I try to support him in everything although I have a feeling he's a douche and I hate how greasy he is now, but still. That movie sucked. Even if they didn't have racist caricatures--it would've still sucked. I felt like I was watching blackface in the form of autobots, I'm happy I'd already heard about this mess before I went to see the movie, or else I would've been really shocked and embarrassed. Instead I made commentary on it to my mom and Jaz. That was the only thing that kept me awake--whispering and making jokes, like about Shia trying to climb over pyramids in some tightass jeans. It was also the day MJ died, which made an already bad movie even harder to pay attention to. At least there's Half-Blood Prince to look forward to!! My favorite HP book, that I need to read for the fourth time before the 15th...

My cousin has a date with a white guy next weekend. And it is hilarious for a lot of reasons, but I will save that for another post. I thouht it'd be able to fit in this one, in a little blurb but I know I'll have a lot to say once I start recounting the tale. Can't wait! It will probably be in conjunction with my thoughts on facebook after having it for 3 months...

Oh, and I've lost about 12 lbs :)! It's harder to avoid food on days like this when I'm sitting on my ass and doing nothing though. I think I've taken every facebook quiz to ever be created in the history of ever. No, really. I am also going to watch the BET Awards tonight, only because it has been overhauled into a tribute for MJ with "awards thrown in." I can handle that, it won't be tacky.

and when they grove is dead and gone...

2009-06-26T17:25:00.001-05:00

R.I.P. TO MICHAEL JACKSON, FOREVER THE KING OF POP. YOU WILL BE MISSED, AND YOU ARE LOVED.

my thoughts on the racism in Transformers 2, annoying white girls at frosh orientation, why horny boys IM me on facebook at midnight, and my wonderful Macbook (that I am on right now!!) can wait.

"Light Black"--what?

2009-06-20T15:39:00.002-05:00

Images courtesy of Google

Since my dad had two teeth pulled this morning, is currently overdosing on Tylenol 3, we are clearly not going to Coldstone today. While I am a little bummed but ultimately completely understanding, it gave me time to finally try to cover a topic that's been on my mind.

A few months ago when my AP English teacher was in Vegas visiting his brother, the class was left without a substitute. Some of the students went and sat in another teacher's class, some the office, and I led a band of rebels to the auditorium Breakfast Club style. My friend Keara was recounting how her cousin and I knew one another from one of the school's I'd gone to and described me as "brown." An obnoxious, overweight, light-skin boy interjected saying, "she's not brown, she's light black." I have no qualms with skin color, neither then nor now, but I was extremely taken aback. I knew what colorism was, and I knew it probably affected me in some way I am not inept enough to notice, but it'd never been thrust in my face so bluntly. If I had been thinking quickly, I would've said, "If I'm the color black then you're 135 lbs soak and wet." But I wasn't and I simple said, "what are you talking about, I am dark brown." That is the color I am and the color most people would describe me as; he counted saying I was "light black" and I said, "you're a fucking idiot as there is no such thing as being light black." He looked affronted, as he is used to most people laughing off his insensitive comments because he's so big and this somehow automatically equates to intimiditing. Whatever.

As stated before, I am dark brown. When it's the middle of January, I'm under-slept I've been sitting on charter bus to D.C. for ten hours, I look like this. I think my frustration comes not from him calling me "black" (as most black people want to claim anything but being the color black), but that he argued with me about it! This fool argued with me about what color my skin is, the skin I've been in for 18 fucking years. It is also highlighted for me just how subjective skin color is, and especially from the perspective of Black people. I have a white teacher (a very funny and intelligent guy) who said that before he came to my school, he had no idea about this "light-skin/dark-skin" thing. He said he knew black people came in all different colors, obviously, but he'd never heard people use skin color as such a defining characteristic; "yeah, you know the one. No, not that Ashley--the dark skin one." "Mhm, you know them light-skin boys think they cute." He said before teaching at my school, he didn't know that amongst people of the same race, the color of your skin could define why you thought you were "cute." I asked him if he'd ever heard the term "saditty" and he looked at me funny, and I thought--oh, lawd.

There's a saying that varies depending on who's telling it and the situation it applies to, but it goes something like this: "no matter what you do, what you wear, or how you talk, you're still a nigger to them." While I don't think my teacher saw us all as "just niggers" his attitude towards rave did verify that to the average white person, no matter your color, if you're black you're black to them. And unless you look like Rashida Jones and it's hard to pin your race, you can be black as a crayon or yellow as the sun and still be just BLACK. It is (mostly) only in black people's minds that color matters so much, and we have put ourselves in these boxes. I do it, too. My friend Keara who described me as "brown", I'd always considered her to be light-skin. Imagine how I shocked I was when she said, "I can't stand light-skin people and white people." I was perplexed and said, "but Keke--you're light" and she rolled her eyes looking horrified and said, "No I'm not! I'm cinnamon (note: Black people and describing ourselves in 10,000 different flavors is another blog entry). The same boy who called me "light black" described another schoolmate of ours (one whom I'd been harboring a slight crush on) "brown." While I would agree with him on that, other people described him as "light skin" when he is darker than Keara yet those same people would agree with her (that she isn't light skin). Skin color is truly an interesting thing.

While there are a lot of things I'd like to change about myself (30 lbs lighter, more outgoing, prettier) my skin color is not one of them. I was lucky enough to be raised by two parents who never made mention of skin color--we were all just black. Even my mother who people describe as "light-skin" or, as my friend Chastity put it, "extra light-skin" never stressed skin color. And, like Keara--my mom gets offended if anyone calls her light, or comments on her "good hair." I have features like my mom, but skin and hair like my dad (although, the last time I went to the beauty salon the woman commented on how "good" and "curly" my hair was, something I rolled my eyes at because I was unaware of this. But again--another post). Who makes these rules about skin color, and will they ever be resolved? I feel like I still haven't touched on this topic as much as I'd like to, as it runs deep and I feel as if I've barely broken the surface. But I do know that black comes in all shades and while not every person who wears that shade is beautiful, the shades themselves are. And it doesn't matter if that person is as beautiful and brown as Alek Wek or as medium as Gabrielle (both whom have lovely, blemish free dark skin and whom I envy because my dark skin is uneven and prone to horrible breakouts that leave spots), or as pale as Thandie Newton--it is beautiful. We need to teach ourselves that.

"Fat": It's Subjective

2009-06-20T04:33:00.002-05:00

Images courtesy of Google

What do the three women above have in common, besides being beautiful, talented, and being subjected to my terrible photoshopping skills? Still can't figure out what else it could be? Well, let me help you: by Hollyweird standards, and to an alarming way normal standards, these women are considered" fat." I put the word fat in parentheses because when I look at Jordin Sparks, Kate Winslet, and America Ferrara, I see beautiful, curvaceous women. Women whose bodies look like mine, women who I'd like to see in their underwear because the have nice figures and look like what I think women should look like. Now don't get me wrong, I'm not knocking all the many beautiful women who are naturally thin (women like Kate Hudson, Eva Longoria, and Zooey Deschanel). I am however knocking the models who would be perfectly healthy and skinny at 135 lbs, but who the fashion world tell they'd be perfect at 104, even if they are 5'10". There is something horribly wrong with this.

I read a few articles online doing the early hours of the morning, many of them touching on weight. A link in one of these articles to a set of photos interested me a lot. There are about 100 photos of various women (and a few men), of all different sizes and body types, in various forms of dress and activity. The photo showed the women and above their pictures was the description of their body (underweight, normal, overweight, obese, morbidly obese, etc) according to the BMI. While I have my own problems with the BMI, these photos on highlighting to me how much fat is subjective. Beauty truly is in the eye of the beholder, and perhaps truer words have never been spoken.

According to the BMI, I am overweight or obese. My weight fluctuates weekly, depending on if I have an extra cup of yogurt, don't go jogging, or let myself enjoy a couple of cookies with my meal. I would say my body looks a lot like that of Jordin Sparks, maybe America's when she first started Ugly Betty and before she toned up so much. And when I am standing only in my underwear, (scrutinizing everything I hate about my body, and smiling at the things I like about it) I look alike like this woman despite the fact that I weight about 200 lbs less than her. In Hollyweird, I would be a fucking cow worthy of not even being looked at, not even an extra on a city street.

I haven't touched fast food in months, I jog at least twice a week, I eat healthy, I am active, and I don't stuff my face with Big Macs everyday. When I tell people how much I weigh (between 180-185 lbs, size 14 jeans) they are usually shocked and their mouths go into a wide "O." It is then followed by, "I never would've guessed you weigh that much!" And I quirk my eyebrow, because the perception of what is fat and what is not fat, is so heavily skewered until no one knows what is and isn't anymore. To some people, I probably look healthy and "normal" in my jeans, t-shirts, and sneakers; to others I might more readily resemble someone who needs to cutback on the fast food I don't even eat. And while that is understandable, I have to ask: where do we draw the line?

It has recently been announced that some designers are going to eliminate the size 16 from their clothing lines. I guess they think a size 16 automatically represents some "fat person" who they feel shouldn't be wearing their clothes anyway. They'd be wrong. What about the woman who is 5'10" and 160 lbs who wears a size 16 because she's so tall? Looking at her, the designer might nod and smile not realizing, this is the" fatass" you've eliminated from wearing your clothes. America (and the world, but the US is the country I am specifically focused on) is playing a dangerous game with weight and our perception of weight. And when girls as young as 8 are going diets because they think they're fat, something is wrong. When I was eight I was focused on if the most popular girl in my grade was really my friend or not, not how I looked in a swimsuit.

There have been many reports in the last five years about how Americans are all so overweight and obese, but this is all merely based on statistics. When we put those same people (myself included) in a line, or illustrate how those statistics look on an actual skeleton, will we still think they are overweight? Or in the end, is it all subjective?

Sexism and Double Standards

2009-06-14T18:02:00.006-05:00

Disclaimer: I actually think Kevin James is pretty hot, and not just in "that fat guy kind of way", same for Patton Oswalt. And while neither are my usual physical types, props must be given where props are due! I cannot, however, say the same for some of the other men who may be used as examples in this blog.
___

Something that I've noticed about society and that has been discussed over and over again in the "fat guy dates/marries hot wife" scenario. In many comedic sitcoms and movies, it's commonplace to see that a man--no matter how overweight he is, how shitty his personality, or how undereducated he is, he can get a sexy, smart, and funny wife; why is that? Why is it that someone who looks like this:

Can play a disgusting character with no redeeming qualities in a movie made for awkward teenage boys with no redeeming qualities and the men they will become, get a hot young Marcia Cross? The same can be said for shows like The George Lopez Show before he loss all the weight and got kind of attractive. Another example is Knocked Up in which Seth Rogen (who I also think is kind of hot, I don't get how Jonah Hill played a younger version of him in Superbad. I mean, they're practically the same age and Jonah Hill is disgusting while Seth is not--but I digress) plays a shiftless slacker who gets some really hot chick (Katherine Heigl) um...knocked up.

Amongst the many fucked up beauty ideals that dominate society at large (and that benefit a relatively small percentage of society at large--and it's not me or anyone who looks like me) is the belief that men can get by with personality alone. And hell, half the time they don't even have that as a saving grace! See, I can understand someone like Michael Cera getting a chick who looks like Kat Dennings to date him--while being kind of awkward, the characters he plays (aka himself) are genuinely nice guys with a lot to offer. Take Superbad for example, in which his costar was Jonah Hill; Michael's character genuinely wanted to get to know the pretty, popular girl he was too painfully shy to ask out. Jonah's character just wanted to get in Hot Redhead's pants. I have nothing against the teen sex comedy genre--in fact, I have seen Eurotrip numerious times and at some point knew all the words to "Scotty Doesn't Know", and I've seen all the American Pie movies excluding the straight-to-dvd spinoffs. But in all of these movies the characters had some kind of redeeming qualities, and if they didn't they were at least attractive so it was believable they could bone all these hot chicks.

In society, it is not okay for a woman to be smart but not that pretty, or to have more going on in her brain than in her bra. A woman can't be rude, ugly, and sloppy and still somehow get that hot guy who has everything going for him to look twice at her--and there are no movies that will tell you different. If a woman is even slightly less than attractive (and that is so subjective until anyone who doesn't look like Heidi Klum is ugly by Hollywood's standards) she is relegated to sidekick (if she's lucky), an asexual spinster with 10 cats, or more than likely nonexistent at all. Perhaps she'll be the "one of the guys" friends to the main Ugly Slacker Guy Character! In most cases, it's totally okay for someone who looks like Jonah Hill to crack jokes about how she looks and why she is alone, nevermind the fact that he's not cute himself.

I used to be an avid fan of Ugly Betty, and although I don't really watch it now I always admired how even though Betty is frumpy, homely, and the exact opposite of what is America's "beauty ideal" her boyfriends are always hot--whether they geeky or not. Not only is Betty defying all types of norms by being her own leading lady, but she also isn't asexual and always without a boyfriend while looking out for everyone else! It's wonderful! And although I sometimes find myself wondering when she's going to get the inevitable makeover to finally be hot, hot, hot, I know it'll never come and I am more than grateful for that.

Do I ever think they'll come a time when there's a comedy based around an "average" woman and her really hot husband? Maybe. Do I ever think they'll be a time when a show like this won't be an exception to the rule, or the character's "ugliness" won't be such a joke until it's a caricature (Ugly Betty)? Probably not. But it doesn't mean it's not something to think about.

2009-06-10T18:26:00.006-05:00

I am so excited for Sunday:

I got into True Blood a few months ago one day when I was particularly bored and could find nothing on the internet/in real life to entertain myself. It's funny, that's how it always happens with me and vampires; I read the first book in the Twilight series my sophomore year of high school. I lived near a shitty decrepit library that had a meager book selection, but because it was in walking distance, I went there often. After exhausting all the halfway decent books I finally decided to pick up Twilight (after initially reading the jacket cover and thinking it sounded really stupid and campy--which it turned out to be...as well as addicting!)

True Blood, however is not only one of the most compelling shows I've watched in awhile, but it's oddly believable. Like, I can totally believe that vampires would come out of the dark (haha--no pun intended, actually) after some fake Japanese blood-like drink in engineered. And the fact that show taps into struggles of the Civil Rights Movement of the '60s, and gay rights issues of today. Oh, and the sex scenes are really hot and the first time I saw the episode where Sookie finally lost her virginity to Bill, I got pretty hot myself. Damn! This can probably all be chalked up to me being a virgin, but I'm sure some non-virgins were hot damning too. ~~I want to read the series, although my local library system doesn't have them all and I: a) never read anything out of order~~ nvm, the more I read about it, the shittier the series become. I'll stick to the series, thanks. and b) don't buy books often, because I never have the money. I am such an idiot too, because the last time I actually did take my ass to Barnes and Noble to purchase a book it was Youth In Revolt. I ended up not being able to get past like page 40 and wanting to kick myself for spending $18 on something solely based on goodreads and the fact that Michael Cera is playing the protagonist (who is much like every character Michael Cera plays--adorablely Michael Cera) in a movie.

I am also really excited about getting to see this pretty lady back on my screen:

Rutina Wesley has to be one of the most gorgeous women I have ever seen. I'm not usually one to praise someone on looks, and I don't usually find a lot of mainstream celebrity women hot because they all look the same to me (see: white) and being a WoC I'm more into "ethnic" beauty. My girl crushes are M.I.A., Parminder Nagra, and Rutina Wesley respectively. Also, as a dark-skinned young Black woman, it's awesome to see someone who looks like me (only a lot prettier and with a much hotter body) play such a multidimensional character on screen. I first saw Rutina in How She Move and thought, "oh wow, she's really pretty and talented! And she isn't playing a stereotype, and she's not light-skinned with curly hair--I'm never gonna see her on my screen again!" But I did, once again rocking te micros.

Some people are raising the question that the character of Tara is anything stereotype of Black women, and while that can easily be argued--and I am not one to defend white people, I have to disagree. While she does play the "strong, angry black woman" bit, she's also vulnerable and weak and human. When I watched Tara, not once did I think that this was a stereotypical character only furthering the already held beliefs about black women. In fact, I thought she might cause some people to see humanity in black women, and I think that she's a very interesting character just trying to find her way. Perhaps I'm wrong, or maybe I see a lot of myself in her (she's well-read and really awesome, and says all the things I say in my head but wish I could say out loud). Who really knows?

One thing is for sure, Sunday is gonna be awesome.

REVOLUTION G(I)RL

"The Help" and Roles for Black Actresses in Hollywood

R.I.P. Amy Winehouse

Oh No, My Hair!!

THE REVOLUTION WILL NOT BE TELEVISED - RIP GIL SCOTT-HERON

Thinspiration is NOT "Inspiration"

Why Are You Being "Hostile?"

Sharing is Caring...

Arnold Schwarzenegger, Maria Shiver, Mildred Baena, and Victims.

Black Women Appreciation Blog *Squee*

On: Reverse Racism (Aren't We Over This?)

hair hair hair, photos of my HAIR!

The Dating Game (Sucks)

I'm Not Dead!

crawling from under my rock...

Some Thoughts

"Still i Rise" by Maya Angelou

And Sometimes the Racism is Blatant

Corinne Bailey Rae - "Paris Nights/New York Mornings"

Shut the Fuck Up, John Mayer

Whose Sexuality Is It, Anyway?

"Racism isn't a serious charge, it's a lived reality."

HAPPY 19TH BIRTHDAY TO ME!!!

Apart of Your (White) World

"You're Pretty for a Black Girl"

hair!!! (update)

Interracial Dating Isn't That Easy

lessons learned + music

Winter

A Very Revolution Grl Kind of Christmas

"Why Didn't Tiger Screw Black Chicks??" (And Other Things)

Finals...

Same Person, Different Hair

Some Positivity (To Combat All That Negativity)

I Don't Care About Tiger Woods

My First Protective Style!

Just When I'd Forgot I'm Black...

Thanksgiving Break!

(Almost) Midweek Sexy

Oh, to be 18.

Queer As Folk: Why Do Women Love it So?

That's Enough, Allison Samuels: When We Demonize Our Own

Are you over 40? Well, you've totally earned that 18 year old girl!

"Stop dressing like such a WHORE and maybe guys won't stare!"

What's in a Name? (Everything)

Products My TWA Love

My Truth is Not Imagined

Album Review + Blurb

Hot for Tutor

Connoisseur of Fruity Drinks

It Had to Happen Sooner or Later

What College is Teaching Me About What it Means to be "Other" in White Society

Anti-Racism and College

it's so hard to say goodbye

The Big Chop (x3)

a little blurb on my life.

Real Women Have Curves--but WHO defines "curves"?

"Why are you so SENSITIVE?! I didn't know you were like that--I thought you could take a joke!"

"Straight Outta Africa!"

and when they grove is dead and gone...

"Light Black"--what?

"Fat": It's Subjective

Sexism and Double Standards

Black Women Appreciation Blog Squee