……Don’t let the economic downturn ruin your Holiday cheer. Are you wise enough to know when a gift needs giving?
Just follow these easy peasy steps:
1. Cut a hole in a box
2. Put your junk in that box
3. Make her open the box
……Christmas…….Hanukkah …….Kwanzaa. No matter what the reason or the season, it’s the gift that keeps on giving.
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….what will they come up with next? The Truth? silly comics and their silly reality checks….
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Apparently Rev. Jay Scott Newman’s crazy ass refuses to give communion to those who have not repented if they voted for Barack Obama. Ummm, are you fucking serious? Crazy individuals with deranged notions are not necessarily unique…. even the fact that he is a priest is not particularly surprising as they are not immune to dementia any more so than normal people. However, what is surprising is that 90% of his congregation agrees. Supposedly the priest and his congregations sentiments are centered around anti-abortion politics…….but, I smell a rat.
Greenville, North Carolina is my first official pick for my new list in progress “Cities and Towns of the USA unfriendly to Negroes”.
….for anyone interested in truth here is a longer clip of one of the sermons from Rev. Wright’s that has been twisted to cause such an uproar.
“Chickens Coming Home To Roost” Sermon:
“Goddamn America” Sermon:
I am a cynic. Skepticism is so deeply entrenched within my psyche I think it might be genetic. This combined with the fact that too often political candidates proposed in this supposed “democratic” process are so slimy and distasteful that casting your vote is more akin to picking your slave master than making a choice for social progress. Somehow the fact that there exist this thinly veiled “choice” is supposed to empower us, but at the end of the day a slave master is as a slave master does… regardless if one brings you a glass of lemonade in the July heat. …I digress. The point is, that I stay a pretty jaded about the whole process and have never been moved by any of it. Until Barack Obama that is….
On this Super Tuesday morning, I sit in a dark cold room fighting the unwelcome warm swell of hope growing in my chest. I am comfortable in my snarky cynical political position. For me to be inspired and have hope for the progress of the U.S. leaves me vulnerable in a way that I am not comfortable with. You see, I had to travel the world a couple times over in order to find out how American I really am. A realization that invited a flood of pride simultaneously dammed and crippled with shame and guilt. America hasn’t stood for much that I am proud of since I became of age to take notice of what it was standing for at all. So how is it that this man who seemingly came out of nowhere when he showed up to the DNC in 2004 is able to evoke this soul stirring sense of possibility and national transformation in people of all ages, races, creeds? That part I am still slightly unsure of.
There are plenty of reasons why at first sight Hilary Clinton seems like the more logical choice for the Democratic ticket. She has been patient and paid her dues (whatever that means), and has followed all of the traditional rules for taking the proper pathway to the Whitehouse. In the traditional sense it should be no contest between the two. ….and yet it isn’t so simple. While I could spout off all the reasons related to position, votes in the senate, and proposed policies as to why Barrack is the better candidate in my eyes, the real truth is that even in their differences (e.g. both of their abysmal fairytale healthcare proposals) the candidates are more similar than they would ever claim.
Even with their distinct differences in mind, I wouldn’t be fully truthful if I was to say that hard lined “issues” are what brought me to the Obama side. The real truth of the matter is that I have finally succumb to the gravitational pull Obama has had on me and a great number of the other politically downtrodden. I have read his books, listened to his speeches and I was struck by Barack the man, long before his run for the Whitehouse. I have often thought that you don’t pick a President based on personality, or likability because that has very little to do with what they will actually do in office. Seems like that is what got us into the past 7 years of “Dubbayah” nonsense. Good ole Bush Jr had followed the rules on paper and had a general likability about him that made people dismiss the fact that he was actually a bumbling idiot with no more leadership skills than a cardboard cut-out of Batman. I am not now nor will I ever be big on liking political leaders. Congeniality is not high on my list of Presidential considerations. However integrity is, and after 8 years of being bent over and Bushwacked by quite possibly the most small minded, violent, ignorant, treasonous President the US has ever seen I ache for a leader who is not only thoughtful and pensive, but sincere. For me this is where Barack comes in.
While Hillary Clinton is a respectable candidate she wears her experience on her sleeve as if it will assure her victory. If we are calling being a cog in a broken wheel of Congress for 4 additional years experience then what exactly does that have to do with leadership? This obsessive spin on experience has started to feel like another divisive strategy to divert attention away from true leadership qualities such as intelligence, courage, fairness, judgment, temperament, humbleness, and integrity. Whether or not she actually has more “experience” than Obama is a highly debatable yet undebated topic, but if one thing has become clear in the past weeks it’s that she has much more experience in the playing the political game. Oddly enough, it is that same experience that makes it hard for her to compete with Obama’s shine. Too many years, and too many battles have glazed her over with the luster of pandering insincerity that we have come to expect out of politicians. However, contrasted up against the infectious shiny new penny zeal of Barack Obama I know I have found myself confronted and embarrassed with my low expectations of political representatives.
Obama has been criticized for being too idealistic and naïve, his campaign even called a “fairytale” by Bill Clinton and at times I’ve wondered that myself, but somewhere along the way my heart would rather take a chance on someone who is idealistic in their belief that change can and must happen than someone who represents a different head of the same side of politics that we’ve seen before. Without anyone presenting an alternative in my lifetime at least, it has been perfectly acceptable for a politician to be a master manipulator at the politics as usual game, poised to continue the tradition of seeking office solely for the power of pushing through their myopic agenda. …. until someone presented themselves as a true alternative.
Mind you that I am not blinded by Obama. I don’t think he is the second coming Christ, Ghandi re-incarnated, or the Martin Luther King of 2008. I think that many peoples expectations of what he will really be able to achieve in office are unreasonable and a bit naive. Certain positions he has taken I sorely disagree with but we agree more often than not so I stand on the side of Barack Obama knowing full well that he may not yet be ready for presidency and that maybe all the hope and inspirational mucky muck he spits is just perfected political spin, but you take that chance with any candidate and today I am taking that chance with him. So tonight when I stand in line and caucus I will be standing across the room in opposition to friends and family members whose opinions I respect and admire while I lean on the warm spot of insistent inspiration growing in my chest. Barack Obama has managed to give me, the jaded midwestern gal with a cynical hesitant allegiance towards this here amerikkka hope that maybe all isn’t lost. If Hillary could light a fire in people close to that, this wouldn’t even be a competition. But she can’t. So in the infamous words of L-boogie I say to Hillary Clinton and all of her “experience” “Come on baby light my fire…. Everything you drop is so tired….”
As if we all needed another reason not to watch FOX news and Cavuto specifically. What could possibly be more important than a discussion on flag pins at a time like this?
After having traveled a little bit through other countries in SA, I must say that Brazil is a very easy country for a Black girl such as myself to be in. Which is probably why I have run into more Black Americans while here than White Americans (which never fucking happens to me I must say. If I see one I do such a happy dance you would think I never saw melanin in my life). You aren´t hassled as if you are a tourist (therefore rich) and people don´t automatically assume that you are poor and a thief or just the scum of the fucking earth in general. As long as you don´t open your mouth noone assumes that you are anything other than an ordinary Brazilian. So I can walk the streets here and people don´t pay any attention to me. In Argentina women would look at me and clutch their bags tighter after making comments about thieving Brazilians (I do in fact speak a little Spanish and I understand much more than you could imagine tiny Argentinian lady!) and in Chile all conversation would stop as they stared me down the street. Brazil is such a relief after feeling like a leper for the past couple of months.
Having said that, that could be said about any race of people in Brazil just about. There are locals that look like they just got off the plane from Norway, Nigeria, Japan, Mexico, Germany, and every other country that you could imagine, not to mention everyone who falls in that infamous Brazilian “in between” (i.e. mulatto) category. Brazil for everyone! Come have a caipirinha!
I must say this is the easiest country I´ve traveled to so far, and they are pretty used to seeing us as well. I swear if one more doorman asked me if I was working for the students upstairs (that I was in fact living with because I too was a student) I was gonna lose my damn mind. I love Brazil. If only they didn´t speak this weird ass Portuguese I´d move to this wonderland.
So there is alot of hype surrounding how beautiful Brazilian women are. Almost as if it´s a country full of these beautiful mystical magical temptresses, all with defined legs and abs and just the right amount of lusciousness in the butt and the chest. Seems like its damn near every mans dream to get to Brazil and have a freak fest at some point in his life. Now mind you Brazil is a VERY large country and it´s as different geographically and culturally from one coast to the next as America is. Some regions its hard to find a “White” person, others you won´t find “Blacks” at all. However, having traveled on the Northeastern Side down to Rio in the South, I must say that the myth of the Brazilian woman just isn´t true. But how could it? No country of women could live up to the reputation that Brazilian women have developed. Are there good looking women here? yes. More than anywhere else? Well now that depends on your definition of beauty…..
From what I have been told about 40% of Brazilians identify themselves as mulatto. I´ve been in the country for over a week now and I am still very unclear about what exactly constitutes a mulatto, because its a very different definition than what we consider mixed in the States. For example, someone who would be considered a bona-fide- no-questions-asked Black person in the US, would usually be considered mixed here. For Blacks in the US, if you have an ounce of Black blood in you…. you are Black, no if ands or buts about it regardless of what you call yourself. Though this is changing with each new generation of brown children, as it currently stands at the end of the day you are Black if anyone can find it anywhere in your face, body, or hairline. As far as I can tell, the way it works here is that if you do not look first generation West African yet you aren´t Anglo enough to pass for white than you are mulatto. What is considered White here is also a very foreign concept as well seeing how some who call themselves White, who feel they are light enough to ¨pass¨ would be laughed at and called traders in the States. A funny funny very tricky thing race is. So ever present and real, and yet it is a completely abstract category for identification. It hurts my heart to see so many people people who will do anything to get out of being identified as Black in most places in the world, but in truth we only abandoned this notion in the States rather recently (circa the Black Power Movement).
There are so many people here who are are mixed racially, that categories are very difficult to define. Noone has yet been able to give a definitive answer on what group I would belong to here because so much of it is tied to socioeconomic class as well.
So I´ve decided that all the hype about beautiful Brazilian women is really about this being a country populated with people who fulfill the “O aren´t mixed kids just so cute! It´s like the best of both worlds!” notion. Fucking disgusting. So what makes the women here so special as compared to any others? The “exoticness” that comes when you mix races. One doesn´t even need to come to Brazil to witness this. The Brazilian women that are considered the most beautiful (such as those represented in the media) are not the ones that represent the masses of the country, but rather those who have achieved that “special blend” of mulatto, meaning they have preserved Anglo features while sporting naturally tawny tan skin and curviness that can only be achieved with a bit of Negro in your blood. The Portuguese people came here with the intent of mixing with the indigenous Indians and the African slaves to create their own new race of people to inhabit this land and from looking around I will say that they have just about achieved that. Taking into account all of the skin tone issues that Blacks still deal with in the States it is hard for me to be enchanted by the all of these so-called beautiful people. Frankly, it just makes me sad because it is yet another reminder that what is naturally of African descent/Black is far from ever fulfilling the aesthetic of what is beautiful, not just in the US but all over the world. How depressing.
So needless to say I got over myself from my bout of international break down. Funny how a good nights sleep, changing to a private hotelesque room, and some good company can change ones perspective. I went on to have an absolutely FANTASTIC week last week.
Last Thursday, the afternoon began with taking a trip to Pelourinho; the historic center of Salvador. It looks like what I imagine Cuba to look like. We saw block after block of brightly colored crumbling, yet charming old buildings and churches. As we stopped for lunch we met a woman (sweaty, swarmy, wierd, lesbianwhokeptlookingatmyfriendlikeshewasdessert) at the cafe who offered to assist us with a translation of the Portuguese menu seeing how she spoke fluent English. Then she invited herself to our table (which I must note for me was initially a little disconcerting as I am particularly suspicious of strangers while traveling) and started going on about one thing or another. That woman and the craziness that occurred as a result of meeting her deserves its own separate post, but not now.
….Anyway, the day consisted mostly of going to the Afro-Brasilia museum and then we went a Folkloric Show in the San Miguel Theatre in Pelourinho. Both of them were pretty phenomenal for plenty of reasons. The museum gave alot of history in terms of the conditions of the slave trade in Salvador with alot of artifacts and art made from some of the first Africans to arrive in Brazil. The folkloric show was a artful depiction of many different sides of Salvador, the candomble (religion for 80% of Salvadorians) ceremony, capoeria, and carnival. It was fantastic!…however it´s pretty much a touristy thing to do. So the next night we went with said mad crazy sweaty lady (o such a long story) to an authentic candomble ceremony where a woman was being initiated into the religion. Between all three of these events, it was hard not to feel as if I was in Africa. Even the candomble ceremony was in Yoruba (large ethno-linguistic group primarily in Nigeria), since 20% of Salvadorians speak Yoruba.
Most of the slaves dropped off in Brazil were from Nigeria and that rings loud and true in Salvador. It´s such a experience having just left Nigeria a few months ago, and then making the voyage to Brazil. In some ways Salvadorians are more African than the Africans. From what I have read and from what I can discern, one of the large differences between slavery here and in the States is that the Africans were allowed to maintain alot more of their culture. So while we grasp for the strands of Africa left in our black roots in the states, in Salvador they don´t need to look for it because it never left.
The crazy mad woman that we met was saying that a large portion of their visitors are African-Americans who are “looking for roots”, which is exactly what I am here for. When you are traveling around and meeting other travelers, the first thing you do is exchange travel itineraries and the reason how and why you are traveling around. When I met white folks and told them that I was going to Salvador they were always like “hmm, but why there”, I just say for historical purposes and leave it at that. When I tell Black folks that I´m going to Brazil (those who know a bit about the slave trade that is), their first response is “So are you going to Salvador?”, to which I reply of course! I came here knowing that I needed to get here, but I didn´t know exactly what I was trying to see. Nevertheless, I am even more satisfied than I anticipated.
Seeing how I was just in Africa, and then Trinidad, and now Brazil its almost as if I have taken my own little transatlantic journey of the slave trade. My professor from college always spoke about the “footprints of Africa left wherever they dropped us off”, and I now see it with my own eyes. As I´ve watched the parties in Lagos, carnival in Trinidad, and candomble and samba in Brazil there are so many parts that have an eerie familiarity. Candomble ceremonies are so strikingly close to many Black churches (particularly Pentecostal) that it was an even more enlightening experience than I expected, and Carnival even with its madness is damn near a spiritual experience itself.
Looking for Roots, but why? I´ve been wondering that to myself as I´ve been traveling lately, why as Black Americas are there so many of us leaving the country (myself included) trying to discover ourselves in another country? What is this obsession with finding a mystical origin? After being in Brazil it makes perfect sense. There are very few other places in the world where slaves were dropped off and their descendants are outnumbered by those that enslaved/oppressed/colonized…other than Brazil. The difference between Brazil and the US is that they were allowed to keep large parts of their culture so their complete identity wasn´t stripped from them. On the islands Blacks remain the majority so they were in the position to create a new identity. As American Blacks, what were we left with after slavery culture wise? Empty space. We weren´t and still aren´t full fledged card carrying American citizens (I don´t give a damn what the law is), more like the slaves who turned uninvited guest who just just wouldn´t take their asses home. So there is this void that makes us “different” but what sort of history do we have to hang that “difference” on? Hip Hop? Martin Luther King? ok back further, Nat Turner? Somehow all of that is not enough to hang our cultural pride, so we struggle to find out cultural Zen.
…so we search for the part that makes us proud, the part that says we belong, the part that validates our existence for being something other than the unwanted stepchild of a major World Power. Sadly, in that search we are rarely satisfied because some things can never be reclaimed.
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Bitter Nectar 