Who Will Defend You?

Earlier this week in my usual commute downtown, a man and woman fight their way onto the subway at 96th st. This happens often: everyone pushes and shoves themselves into an already-crowded car. They refuse to fall for the swindle of the conductor's suggestion to wait for the train "directly behind this one."

My attention is caught by the raised voices. He calls her a lowlife, scum, and a lot more if he could. Her voice is louder, enraged by being spat on by another man. SPAT ON.

Man and woman are hitting and pushing each other, in a tit-for-tat fashion that is equally common on the playground. It's abusive and filled with anger. The spitter continues to exacerbate the situation, their efforts combined bullying this woman on what should've been her usual commute.

She threatens to call the cops. Spitter says loudly, in proving the sentiment I'm feeling, "who are you kidding? The cops aren't going to come for you."

The reality of two white men disrespecting a black woman's entire existence not being worthy of law enforcement rode along with us to 72nd st. No one came to this woman's defense. Not any man or woman. No one sympathized with this woman's humiliation. Not even me.

The experience ended (for us passengers) with the woman choking the man on the platform, yelling for the conductor while the man screamed for help. No one came to his defense either. Not even me.

So I've thought on the situation all week. Like many, I don't want to get involved. Many, I hope, want to do the right thing. Could I have been her? I couldve been her. What would I have done at the receiving end of these men? Would my fellow passengers avert their eyes to suddenly interesting stories of their free metro paper, their tweets, their ereaders? I wish I wasn't paralyzed in the moment. I wish I had done more than say "damn that's fucked up." I felt responsible.

Its been a long time

Wrote this a while back. Hell I mightve posted it a while back too.

Dear self
This one's for you
This one's dedicated to all you can do
This one's dedicated to all that you can be
This one goes out as far as you can see

What I like about you
Your brain, you're a thinker
You're not afraid to have the wrong answer
And you'll work tirelessly to find the right answer
Way after anyone notices or cares
You think outside yourself
Always ready to provide and make a way
I love your laugh-its loud, obnoxious and coming of age
A little hearty with a hint of naievete
I love that you love to laugh
Taking yourself less seriously is one of the better choices you made
I notice as you get older you start to take other parts of yourself seriously
Your toes are really pretty too.
Your lips are kissable, lip gloss or not
I like how much of yourself you give
Even when you don't care, you do, just a little bit

You've got big dreams. Write them down. Rewrite them for clarity's sake. Say them aloud, make them real. Give them reason. Punctuate them with enthusiasm and can-do. Tell a friend with excitement. Post them on your wall. Repeat them at dinner. Tweet them in case you forget

You've come a long way, confident in your ability to reason, speak up, and feel. You're ok with crying, realizing that emotions are ok, that it makes you human. And when the tears dry, its go time.
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Winning At Life

Conversation between two women on my commute this morning, discussing the mundanities of middle aged adult life: finding a sitter when you want to go out for dinner, indulging in mindless reality TV, hitting the gym and running marathons. The woman on my left, Debbie, rambles on about different workouts around her kids schedules, while holding the railing at my eye level, practically putting my eye out with her engagement ring. Her friend, Jane Doe, gabbed about how she got into running after law school, a release upon working hellish 80 hour weeks.

After these women exit the train (total UWSiders-on at 96th, off at 42nd) the woman sitting next to me and I turn our NY all the way up-concluding they were loud, obnoxious and that "no one cares about their boring, regular lives."

Not so fast. I was a little intrigued-both were lawyers, one of them married w/ children, one's a marathon runner, and anyone who takes a subway 2 stops to work. One was petite, the other, one of those "I need to lose 10 lbs" girls who brings baked goods to the office (Crumbs was her vice). Anyway, from this small snippet, sounds like they won at life.

"Win at life (WAL)" is a concept coined by @thegreatestj, in reference to a friend who was completely wretched but married some guy who gave her a gorgeous ring, thus "winning at life." The phrase has evolved into a snarkier connotation of people who are, my social construct, lame, but they seem to think they've won at life by some aspect of life, from marrying a doctor, being offered a bid to every house on sorority row, or giving birth to thee cutest baby evar. Stuff that happens but doesn't deserve anything more but a nod and an "oh, how nice."

Even in their mundane lives, they had this WAL aura and wondered if they felt they'd won at life? How will I know when I've won at life? What are my life's must haves? Timelines are fine but I really rather not be one of those "I need to buy a house by 30, married by 32, kids by 35 because ill have gotten my masters by 28" girls. Its one thing to plan you day at work or your weekend, but your whole life?

How does one know when they've WAL? Is winning even essential? We know what it feels/looks like to lose at life, and no one wants to be a loser. What are your benchmarks for winning at life, and does it have a deadline?
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Happy Black Girl Day!

(Wo)Man! I swore I wouldn't forget, but this is the 2nd one in a row. What can I lament on this month? Well, I've noticed that its getting darker earlier and now that I work on a college campus, I notice the building getting a lot noisier. Summer's nearing to a close, but while its here, ill post 5 summery things that keep me a HBG.

1. Summer sunrises. I'm a heavy sleeper. Its incredibly hard for me to wake on time in the winter. I'm also not a morning person, so I need some type of sunlight to encourage me to get up and be productive. Its harder to sleep in when its bright at 5:30am. The one thing ill miss about my apartment is my windows cause they're huge and let in lots of light

2. My AC. I grew up on window fans and sleepin nekkid. While both things are quite enjoyable (shoutout to living alone) I knew I was a grown up when I bought my first air conditioner last month. Or was it when I saw my Con Ed bill more than doubled? Hmm.

3. Summer dresses. I've worn (and owned) more dresses this summer than ever. Outside of prom, graduation, induction, and the occasional wedding, I never really owned dresses just because. And now, I buy them left a nd right. In multiple colors, including pink. Not so much sold on shoes. One day, maybe.

4. Free ish to do. NYC offers so much to do for cheap or free in the summer: shows, the pool, parties, movies, etc. Kayaking at Pier 40 is free on the weekends. Free yoga Thursdays in Marcus Garvey Park. Target First Saturday outside. Granted, I'm at work for 90% of the time, (and wiped/forgetful the other 10%) but I take comfort in knowing its there.

5. The food. Huge surprise, right? I love barbeque as much as I love breakfast and bacon. If I could make an rib omelette on a grill... Well that might be gross, but yeah, I'd be down. Love hot dogs on a grill. Potato salad? Check. Coleslaw? Yes. Various coolers of wine and spirits? Don't haveta tell me twice!

And now for some fellow happy black girl publicity. Check out @sistatoldja's blog thebeautifulstruggler.com. She gets this HBGD poppin in these here streets.
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Writer

Inspired by re-reading my writing from undergrad and confirming I have this gift.

I wanna be a writer and make others think.
Make em say "ah" no trey
Make em say "hmm"
Make em say "whaaaa?"
And nod, make em say "word, aight."

I wanna be a writer and make others laugh
Laugh impolitely on the subway
Laugh from the bottom of their belly
Laugh till it hurts some
And then laugh some more, in agreement, in acknowledgement, in an experience shared.

I wanna be a writer and hang with the other writers
We'd drink our drinks
We'd smoke our smoke
We'd be cool, desired, envied even.
We'd have intelligent debate
We'd converse and pontificate
We'd dance around concepts and ideas for new pieces until it got late
Really, we should be going.

Am I the writer I thought I'd be now
I wanna be the writer I once was
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History in the Making

On Monday, I chatted with Terrence at Whole Foods, lamenting on how he sells groceries he can't afford for himself ("I have to work a couple of hours to even justify a $9 chocolate bar," referring to the customer before me). Tuesday, @snoble1025 and I briefly lamented on Essence magazine hiring a white fashion director (and the "yall need to have a seat" letter that followed by the editor in chief). Wednesday, I attended a panel discussing minorities in business school, (and get no further in deciding if an MBA is in my future) and talk to @craziijnell about the FDNY's desperate push to hire 1,000 African-American firepeople in response to being found using "discriminatory practices" in their hiring process.

A conversation with my mentor in Sigma (and life) on education (find her blog here: nucitynuview.blogspot.com) including black literature in curriculum planning, and what the hell we educators are missing in producing a more successful generation of academics. Our more affluent peers aren't struggling in the same manner. Their children are born into a pep rally of success and the desire to succeed. There are constant and consistent messages to pursue higher education, apply and attend the best schools, interview and become employed by the best companies. Those who stick to the plan learn the best is what's expected and as you move up, the faces, names and affiliations will stay consistent too.

We educators try changing the variables: lower teacher:child ratio, pay teachers more, make teacher certification stricter, or conversely, make teaching an entry-level position, so millenial college grads can create a corps of younger, brighter, innovative teachers, sent to the front lines to fight the good fight on behalf of the black, brown and in some parts of the country, white, faces. Faces that have stories and names that will equally blow your mind, and may not know or realize they're worth fighting for.

While great gains have been measured from these actions, we've experienced an interesting history of educational access. In the course of a few hundred years, black people-a catchall moniker afforded much later-weren't worthy of being mentioned in the same breath of education. Over the years, literacy and learning became the best-kept secret-a financial best-practice in keeping your "staff" loyal to the business. Once we were given an inch, our people took an ell-a few ells-in proving that yes, we can, and that we will-for our fathers of the past and the sons of our future. It was an unspoken promise, a mutually understood agreement.

Black people, with or without intention, made their mark in every field: medicine, law, business, arts, humanities, engineering, sports and yes, education. We, over the last hundred-some-odd years have become a list of "first Negro/African-American/Black (to)________", trotted out in certain chapters of our history books, certain months of the year, or whenever the "hey, black people can do it too!" argument needs to be made.

The MLKs, Thurgood Marshalls, Shirley Chisolms and Charles Drews of their generation experienced similar struggles my uncle wouldve faced as a Navy man, or my aunt as she worked through medical school. Educational access was still a rarity, a combination of hardwork and right place, right time, a pass to the other side. Blatant racism and discrimination lived unashamed and the struggle to succeed was an expectation. Through this, I'd like to think these groundbreaking "black firsts" were role models, offering my elders (not even my mother, a child of the 80s, but perhaps my grandmother/aunts/uncles) inspiration and motivation to do better and be the best.

I know, motivation and inspiration comes in different packages.
What's the disconnect for my...differently motivated peers, those led by the "fuck bitches, get money" movement? Today's teachers and educators can answer this better but I'd love to flip through today's English and history books. I'd guess, for our children, the list of writers and history-makers have not been updated to reflect recent history (and I use "today" loosely as I recall my textbooks were as old as 1973). Will my nieces, nephews and cousins still be reading about Rosa Parks, Malcolm X and Jesse Owens in 2010 and beyond? Will Langston Hughes and Maya Angelou, among others, continue to be the black highlights of high school required reading? Surely there is room for more thinkers, writer, and leaders to put rims on these wheels.

I hardly discredit any of these people, but my (grand)mother's heroes are not always my own. Should history be recorded as fast as its made? How do we accurately define what is history, and what is just something that happened to someone at some time (a question for journalists and educators alike). Over the last 15-20 years, a reasonable timeframe for history to be "made" and have a lasting effect on the next generation, who (and what) will be recorded as a testament to our children, that we black, brown (and even white) people made valuable, thought-provoking, ground-breaking, and even teachable contributions to this country and world?

Thought about it? Great, now cross out everyone in sports and entertainment. Now let's work from there.
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tdixondecides...but what about you?

A friend, soror and follower of mine @craziijnell, posts these statements. They follow the same format: "Today is a day of __________ (.) Who I am is ________, ________, and ___________(.)"

Punctuation in parentheses because these statements always lack periods. I like pauses in my speech.

I thought they were taken from one of those inspirational websites that send you emails between 4-8am (ready for you at your desk, coupled w/ morning coffee). Apparently she makes them up herself and uses them to guide her day. I took a stab and wrote a couple this AM. After all, if you know the key phrases and the format, its as easy as writing a mid90s R&B song. But what do those songs (and phrases) REALLY mean?

Affirmations generally are slated to be effective upon repetition, and hopefully, proceeding in a way that reflects said mantra. Is this the same as speaking ideas into existence? If I tape a quote to my bathroom mirror and make a conscious effort to wash, rinse and repeat, is it any more true than the day before?

Are we convincing ourselves of truths? How is this any different than denial, or flat out lying? When one is in denial, they are repeating mantra and affirmations that convince them otherwise. "As long as I tell myself (and others) this truth, it will be true," those who lead a double life.

Or what about religious/spiritual text? Is the Bible (or Torah, or Watchtower *shrug*) just a best-selling book of daily affirmations? Are the statements by the Lord and His peoples become truer the more we cite them, in relation to our lives?

Can anything be true if you repeat it enough, even if its dead wrong, or you don't necessarily agree? Such is the case of our own esteem. If we tell ourselves were the greatest thing since sliced bacon*, if our daddies raise us to believe we can do anything we put our minds to, when our moms, from two years old, ask each night at bedtime "who's the best little boy in the whole wide world?" and you squeal "I am!" in delight, that shapes our being. Similarily, being told that you're dumb, worthless, ugly or otherwise "ain't shit" on a daily basis is just as impactful.

*sliced bacon is a play on "sliced bread," which ill refer and explain in a future post that should've been posted 2 weeks ago.

Now, you could actually be gorgeous or dumb, or the "best little boy in the world," but if it's not true, who gets to decide that?

*looks around* oh, me?

Yes, I get to decide. No fancy language, no time stamps. No question marks, but repeating it daily may require an exclamation. If I can remember to repeat this affirmation, it can (and has) slowly replace other, less desirable ones. I become more effective, and more convincing.

So today is a day of decision. Who I am is decisive, willing to pick, choose, and live comfortably in those decisions.

And so is tomorrow, and the next day, and the next.
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