Monday, May 30, 2011

Politically Correct

Finals are over and I feel lost, really, without my nightly 50 or so pages of reading ever burning Black Letter Law…Black Letter Law to the neurons, to keep me nice and crazy…focused, I meant focused.

Focus.


My read-o-meter is on overload. Seriously. I have read five books since May 19th, change of pace badly warranted so last night I caught up on the news around the world. While reading articles at two of my usual spots: The Root (www.theroot.com) and The Huffington Post (www.thehuffingtonpost.com) I came across this clip of an upcoming documentary called Dark Girls directed by Bill Duke and D. Channsin Berry. After seeing the women in the film, I was angry. After seeing that tiny little girl and her assessment, however, my heart broke into a million tiny little pieces. Witnessing not only what she has seen and heard in just a tiny little finger point but also, and most importantly, what she sees when she looks in the mirror.


Dark Girls: Preview from Bradinn French on Vimeo.

Now you understand.

But wait: there’s more.

So, I continued perusing for more info on the documentary and then I came upon another heat-seeking target over at Jezebel (www.jezebel.com): Satoshi Kanazawa. This professor, who according to both sources above, has been unanimously ousted from his position at The London School of Economics, wrote a blog for Psychology Today’s site titled: Why Are Black Women Rated Less Physically Attractive Than Other Women?

Are you kidding me right now?

Help me, Baby Jesus.

Clearly, I was done…do you know ‘done’ when I say done? I was so done and admittedly, incredibly angry. Angry for the little girl in the video, angry for so many of our daughters that do not deserve this sort of reality: the reality that the world is completely misguided, and angry at mothers. Yes, mothers. Sisters - WE need to do better. Please don’t give me the It’s-her-absent-father nonsense because I have a two-part series for you 1) you chose him, 2) you are there. YOU. ARE. THERE.

Stop with the excuses. I was a single mother for a long time. There are no excuses.

I said it. Now what? Prove me wrong if you disagree. Who else is there to tell our babies that they are enough? ENOUGH! We would all like to be more than, you can work on that…but honestly, these little girls do not even have a running start. MY GOD. GIVE THEM A RUNNING START.

I went to sleep and did not sleep well, disturbed by both the video and the article. I was not ok…and then I remembered something:
Jazz is a many-faceted, many-talented, stunning pre-med student beautifully beginning her sophomore year at the college of her choice in the Fall. Jazzmyn is my daughter. She is MY daughter and I love her more than any word, phrase, comment or calling could ever express. She was my only way to right the wrongs that I chose. Being practically perfect in every way, I could not ask for a more honest, caring, respectful tiny little militant mini-me (even though she towers over me). Do I agree with every decision she has made? Well of course not, she is a mini-me, she is not a ‘literal’ me and really…who am I to judge? I made perfect choices.

Sarcasm.

My Jazzi-Phae is an interesting sort. For one, she never really sleeps, never did. Most people require sleep, Jazzmyn does not. Every once in a while because she is bored she will crash. Even as a baby, she hardly ever slept…but she didn’t cry. I’d go into her room at 1am to make sure everyone was breathing (am I the only one {O_o} doing that?) and she’d be wide-awake, thinking, I suppose. Never missing a beat, Ms. Howell sees absolutely everything with or without her glasses, lol. Keeping information close to her vest until just the perfect moment is a gift that she handles as if she is light years beyond the 19 she has enjoyed thus far. Having a quiet, unassuming nature, you would likely never hear her in a crowd: you would feel her presence. Honestly, she is that chick. Mini-me, indeed ;-)~.

When Roxanne (inside joke) started speaking, she reserved her tiny little voice for intimate conversations with her big brother Angel. No one made better sandwiches than he did, according to her, no one had the answer that he did, no one could soothe her tiny little tribulations the way he could. No one other than her father who to this very day, in her eyes, can do no wrong. And as crazy as that may seem to some of you, I am thankful for that part of who she is: protected, loved. When she looks in the mirror, she sees not just Jazzi-Girl, The “J” in J.A.C. City, The Pretty Girl with the Puff, or Jazzmyn Howell, she sees and hears the love from the people who would not only die for her but LIVE for her daily. Daily.

The Clark Doll test.

When that pretty little girl who had no hair at all until she was three years old, lol, was somewhere around five or six years old I exposed her to the Clark Doll test (it’s the same general test the little girl in the video was exposed to only it was with dolls. Mamie Clark was writing her dissertation in 1939 and developed this test). But let me give a bit of background.

I took Child Psychology when Angel was about five years old and couldn’t wait until he was old enough for me to see where his views stood on the subject. Because he was my ‘test’ child I tested lots of parenting skills on him – oh shut it! All firstborn kids are the test pilots. I was one and I know quite a few more. We had it a little harder, but we are also a little better because of it…yes? Anyway, The conversation went something like this (for those of you that know Mr. Howell, this will be a testament to the fact that he has always been opinionated!):

Me: Angel would you bring me two of Jazzi’s dolls, please?
Him: Ma, she doesn’t play with any of them. Maybe we should throw them away.
Me: Um, not the point. Bring me one white doll and one black.
Him (climbing off the chair he was preparing to jump from): She doesn’t even like dolls.
Me: Excuse me?
Him: Huh?
Me: If you can ‘huh’ you can hear me…*serious tone
Him: …huh?
Me: Dolls.

So in he brings two pristine Barbie dolls, same clothes, same hair. The only difference in the dolls was their color.

Me: Angel, which one is prettier?
Him: Which one is which thing O.o?

Please keep in mind that I KNOW he heard and understood the question, lol. This was a five-year old deflection and I was not having it.

Me (trying to hold in my laugh, failing miserably): Ok, fine. Which one do you think is smarter?
Him: Um…they are both dumb heads because they are girls!!!

Awesome. I was raising a sexist.

Ok, that was a seriously sexist comment, right? I was not trippin'. So we had that talk. Yes, I let it rest after I was sure this was little boy angst and not some weird issue. Again, we all know Mr. Ova Dose and his Mental Enlightenment. Clearly that was a momentary bout of psychosis. Anyway, being of the Cosby Show generation, when teaching a lesson, we take it to the head. Wait. That’s being of the ‘hood. Let me take another approach.

When an opportunity presents itself, give life lessons swiftly and firmly, in real time and as close to real-world as possible hoping to eradicate the behavior or at least plant a seed of understanding, immediately if not sooner. I asked him how much he loved me and he looked at me like I had 3 heads sprouting out of my shoulders. This look of astonishment said: There is NO greater love. I explained to him that at his age, girls are usually more emotional and therefore more loving, seemingly. So maybe he doesn’t love me as much as maybe, Jazz will love me when she is his age. I know my son and I know his determination, otherwise I would have chosen a different form of expressing my view. He knew exactly where I was going. The fruit does not fall far from the tree (Angel says, "Unless that tree is on a hill." Noted.)

Him: Am I rude?
Me: No, you were behaving like a 5 year old. YOU are never rude. Behavior may be rude, behavior may be unacceptable, but you…? Never. And besides, I don't love rude behavior. And you know who loves you more than anything else in this world?
Him: ME!

True story. And I’m not mad at that. But there’s more.

Flash Forward 5-6 years and something triggers The Clark Doll test in my mind. Jazz and I were playing with a Barbie doll head, the kind that has a head and shoulders only - with an enormous amount of hair. Ok, let me just be completely forthcoming here. I had one Barbie doll head and Jazz had the other. Literally. I bought 2. Lol. One for her and one for me. And still neither one of us has any more of clue when it comes to working on our own coifs. At any rate, having grabbed a few of her Barbie Dolls (over the years we developed a bit of a collection of cultures. There were Swedish ones (Thanks Anna-Lena Mcgrath), Hispanic ones (who other than Ingrid?) and of course a myriad brown of every hue available. I decided this was as good a time as any for a mothering litmus test as this gorgeous kid has always had a very healthy relationship with color and race. She, like her mother, is neither light nor dark. No one has ever overlooked either of us because of our color and if they have, neither of us would notice nor take it as a slight. That would simply have been their loss. Yeah, Jazzmyn is that chick.

Must be born this way.

Anyway.

Did I mention that although my mother is somewhat delusional she is and has always been the most beautiful woman I have seen in my entire life? My mother is dark, a rich beautiful sable and at 62 does not have even one wrinkle. And trust me if she did, she would rock that wrinkle like no other. I am thankful that she believed in her beauty, passed that on to my sister and I, and continues the tradition with her grand daughters - my daughter who she calls Slim and my niece Black Beauty III. Because of her all of the women, men, girls, and boys that came to this dimension through her have always felt like the world should stop at our feet. She did her job. Very Well.

Yeah Ms. Rena, is that chick.

We all have it quite honestly.

So back to little Miss Howell and the case of the Black & Swedish Barbie’s…

Sitting squaw-like on the living room floor, Jazzmyn had one hand glued to her face like a snorkel, thumb pressed absentmindedly against the back of her two front teeth, the free hand combing the curls out of Barbie’s hair after our wash and carefully placed roller set. To dry their hair, we sat Barbie in the sun on the back porch or in the window. We also wrapped her hair at certain times, but the finished product was not nearly as fun to play with.

Me: Jazzi-Phae-baby-girl…which Barbie is prettier?
Her (without more than a glance): The one that looks like you.
Me: Which one do you think is smarter?
Her (somewhat annoyed with the line of questioning): Mummy, they can’t talk. How would I know which one is smarter?

What did I tell you about Jazz, my Black Princess? What do you think she sees when she looks in the mirror?

I’m still saddened at the plight of so many little black girls not knowing their worth, but because of my personal Peace of Paradise, I have HOPE.






For all intents and purposes, fortunate or un-, this is my Life :-)~.

Saturday, May 14, 2011

GiGi Polanco



Gigi showing off how to do her Mohawk!

gigipolanco.blogspot.com

check her out!

Tuesday, May 3, 2011

My President Is Hilarious!



YOU MUST WATCH THIS VIDEO! LOL

President Barack Obama handled this News Quite Respectfully.

This was written before our President Obama took office. Insert bin Laden's name in place of al-Zarqawi...it is amazing how history repeats itself and still we Americans do not learn.

"How could man rejoice in victory and delight in the slaughter of men?"
~Lao Tzu~

Two wrongs do not, in fact, make a right. Right? Attacking the Twin Towers on September 11, 2001 was an egregious wrong. The war on Iraq was also wrong and horrendously dishonest (in my humble opinion). So then, celebrating the death of Abu Musab al-Zarqawi is, somehow, right? It is inhumane, disrespectful and deplorable behavior. I am utterly and completely embarrassed by the number of American people and their sheer enjoyment over the death of a human being. An unpardonable, sick and twisted human eradicated by Americans and as Americans we celebrate? I use the term we lightly, as lightly as humanely possible. Yes. Humanely. The deficiency of respect for any human life, whether it be one of “ours” or one of “theirs”, is just not right. I was horrified at the lack of respect for the lives of men, women and children during the 9/11 attacks, as were a number of vocally expressive Americans. A good number of those same folks (i.e. Jay Leno) made light of another violent death, joked to a laughing crowd of people about a dead man’s widow and celebrated the death of a man, an awful terrorist of a man, but a man nonetheless. It is inexcusable. The attack on the World Trade Center caused a soft spot in some and a sore spot in others. A soft spot aches from the attack but seeks to understand the crisis of terrorism; a sore spot burns rancid at the attack and takes pleasure in the revenge of such by displaying photos of a ravaged corpse and then detailing the specifics of its “timely” demise with delight and that is absolutely reprehensible.

But I have gotten ahead of myself. This essay, in my mind, began as an explanation of the invisible scarring that the September 11th attack left on my mind, my body and my spirit. Being reminded of Jeff Jacoby’s “The Images We See And Those We Don’t” his sentiments ring true with mine, “…I am sickened…” he expressed in the essay “…by those that think the defeat of the Bush administration is an end that justifies just about any means.” If other countries are in error of displaying such behavior, are we as Americans, the world’s so-called super power nation, not equally at fault? Who are the savages? Are we any better than the people that cheered at our twin towers being shattered? Were they not the savaged guerilla third world ignorant people? And that means that we are, collectively, for all intents and purposes…what exactly?

As an American I am angered at the frustrating extremist behavior of the terrorists. Disappointed at the reaction both political and general at the next steps taken without agreement and consensus of the people. Saddened by the thought that we will never forget the minute details of that day. Outraged at the government making self fulfilling prophetic decisions that affect the entire country and the deserved lack in confidence gained from the “people” in the aftermath of 9/11. Embarrassed, I am, by the pompous ignorance of our elected officials as well as the appointed leaders of this country. And lastly, but certainly not in the least, disgusted at the behavior of our military personnel.


Angered. Not unlike other very unpleasant thoughts, I cringe, still when able to muster enough strength to accept that there are people that claim a religious belief as the basis for bloodshed, any kind. I am not a religious person, however, I am a spiritual person. Believing in taking extreme measures as a means of expressing beliefs and in the fold of those beliefs a disregard for lives, actually lives, the math just does not add up. It is beneath my radar of understanding to disregard honor and respect for others for the sake of personal beliefs. I mean, isn’t that what religion encompasses? Honoring your God and others? I am hardened by the very notion that there are people in this world that take their very own personal issues and force feeds their belief, their wants, their needs onto others. These statements are true for the terrorists as well as the President of the United States. I will never forget his immature frat-boy temper tantrum when voicing his distaste for another awful individual. George W. Bush said in an infamous statement “This guy tried to kill my dad!” Clearly speaking on Saddam Hussein, even though this was at a high stakes time and Osama Bin Laden’s issues should have been on the table. Saddam and Osama seem to have been interchangeable at that time. That statement was made during the aftermath of 9/11 and as a building block to invading Iraq. The issues of 9/11 from my perspective, had less to do with Saddam and more to do with Osama and Al Queda, who in fact gets to be the decider on that?

Disappointed. Instead of gaining an understanding of the reasons behind terrorism, the American government does not take the opportunity to look at its faults. Arundhati Roy explains that, “Terrorism is the symptom, not the disease.” 911 showed us that we are not infallible. Even super powers can have their electricity turned off temporarily. The military went in search of the terrorists, at fault, instead of coming to any conclusions as to why we had been targeted in the first place. Go figure.

Saddened. Generation X (age range from approximately 30-41) has its “Where were you when…” like the generation before us, the Baby Boomers (approximate age range from 42-60). They, the Baby Boomers, have committed to memory the time, place, and actions leading up to the tragic assassination on John F. Kennedy. So to, the Generation X-ers, have burned to our collective hard drives, the massive destruction of lives, of security and of faith in the ability of the American government to protect it’s people on September 11, 2001. Nearly every American, black, white and each and every “other” in between, who can remember, will never forget.

Outraged. Still fuming at the photos of not only the prisoners held at the Abu Ghraib prison but also thoroughly ashamed at the behavior of the military men and women involved in the torturing of fellow homo sapiens; I am at a loss for coherent explanations. Beyond treating people with even the smallest amount of dignity, what could one person, not to mention an entire group of military personnel, possibly gain from the actions displayed in those photos? What was our reason for entering, bombing, blazing and destroying that country, again? Oh yes, 9/11. Retaliation. From the top down...way, way down. Globe journalist, Jeff Jacoby, whose views constantly keep me on edge whether in agreement or frustration, also sited in the above referenced essay that the interchangeable basis of rules and regulations yet again rears its ugly head. Speaking of the CBS News website’s photographic streaming of the naked prisoners in Iraq and the non-viewable beheading of Nicholas Berg and it’s being, “too gruesome to show.” invites us all to look further into what is right and what really, is considered wrong.

Confused. "Arguably over the last several years, no single person on this planet has had the blood of more innocent men, women and children on his hands than Zarqawi.” words spoken by Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld. In the eyes of the people both “here” and “there” what is the real difference between George Bush’s policy and Abu Musab al Zaqarwi’s policy? Both are leaders, both are extreme, both decided to wage war on the others country. Neither has the majority of support from the people for his actions, neither, in my humble opinion, cares about anything other than his very own warped opinions and views. Are we the birds of prey or are they?

Embarrassed. At what expense will we finally attain a victory? Reading an excerpt from Ms. Roy’s essay, “Americans must be allowed to continue with their way of life...” then and only then would Mr. Rumsfeld consider the American people victorious. Not when we have come to an agreement with other countries on the policies concerning the world, not when the bloodshed of society has ceased, but when we are allowed to run amuck about the world, without discretion. We should have complete autonomy as if we were the spoiled children of the rich and infamous? This is wrong and is a testament to the very quagmire into which we have placed ourselves.

Disgusted. We, the people - American and Iraqi -, are the flotsam and jetsam of our respective societies and the wars carried out for the sake of our rights. Most of us would rather not rape and pillage countries, most of them would rather not have us rape, pillage and then apologize for our behavior. Our rights are floating away, piece by piece, in the name of fighting for what again? Oh yes. Freedom. Because of our particular political flora and fauna we have rights and privileges that do not apply to any person un-American? Although this essay is less about the years to come and more about my present angst, it feels very relevant. Each of these topics would not have existed were it not for the September 11th attack on all things American. This essay started from the end, I suppose, or was it the middle?

Where, when and how in the name of God, or Allah in a manner of respectfully speaking, will it all ever end? My simplistic political views are mine to bird-dog and I accept that wholeheartedly. Right or Wrong. Then again what does it matter, I am not, in fact, the decider.

Which leads me to believe, more now than ever, that a bird in the hand, is certainly worth the two (wrongs) and a Bush.


"Our nation is somewhat sad, but we’re angry. There’s a certain level of blood lust, but we won’t let it drive our reaction. We’re steady, clear-eyed and patient, but pretty soon we’ll have to start displaying scalps."
~George W. Bush~


For all intents and purposes, fortunate or un-, this is my Life ;-)~

A Wolf in Wolves Clothing

iAm We are      but humans for the world to see There’s millions of others But this world, in this moment Is between only you and little ole...