Monday, October 26, 2009

Too much thinking on a rainy day...



My feet are wet and cold and there are only sad songs on the radio, endlessly whiny guitar ballads with 80s synthesizers. The Zoka's in Tangletown is filled with white people with mac notebooks and everyone is wearing jeans and flannel or fleece and wool hats and I'm second guessing my love of Seattle because for God's sake, could at least one person in here be original!? Not some green, uber trendy, nerd with a gray messenger bag and a membership to REI.

I digress. It's one of those rainy fall days, where the sky is a void of gray and white and all the streets are soggy rivulets decoupaged with dead leaves. And I know I am on the verge of some cosmic quantum leap. I have all the pieces of what I need to know to figure this thing out, but nothing is fitting together, and there is no manual for how to become a better person or how to live in your highest good. But I keep getting distracted by this everyday reality.

And when I look around, I know that every single person here has a soul, and a dream, and a purpose and that we are all at various stages of our journey, but I can't seem to feel a compassion for them. I can't seem to keep from conceptualizing them as "them", and I'm not quite sure if it's because I've grown up learning how to be in opposition, knowing that I would be "othered" and beating "them" to the punk by at least defining my own "othering". I have learned to be proud of my individuality, of the components that help me define or more accurately, describe this person I am in the here and now, but I don't know how to claim myself in unity. If millions of Buddhist or even Muslims or Christians, or anyone set of people who have ever claimed a concept of God, aren't wrong, and there is this all encompassing divinity that fills the universe....and it's true that I am a part of it, a product of it, a being made from the substance of this thing most easily titled Spirit....then why is it so hard to put aside my identity and embrace all people (even the ones I really don't like) as one, as a part of this whole.

And if I wake up one day and am suddenly able to do this monumental thing, then what? Will everything change? Will I? Will my greatest good be achieved? Will yours?

For the family of our dear departed one

History is a story we tell ourselves
after the fact
to give shape and control
to the things that just happened
and what can I tell you
about what happened
but that it was both an ending
and a beginning
a decision
an action
a choice
that broke so many hearts
and in one moment
freed a soul of its tethers
to concrete
and pain
and the push and pull
of this painted illusion
freed a soul to soar
peacefully to whatever comes next
finally and with finality
what could I tell you
about the broken hearts
left in your wake
but that they loved you
and will love you
to the best of their ability
broken or whole
and though not likely to immediately
reglue themselves
in picture perfect arrangements
these hearts will slowly
knit crooked seams
and bloom healed scars
more beautiful for having
known you,
and stronger still
for having learned
to let you fly.

Friday, October 16, 2009

A Bad Week

What do you do when everything turns sour? I'm still trying to figure out what exactly happened, but systematically, in almost every area of my life last week, things went wrong. And of course, not one to be half-assed about anything, things went wrong in a big way. Work didn't go well, my boss and I had some serious disagreements that had to be mediated. I got into a fight with my taekwondo instructor. I had a falling out with a friend. And everything was gray and rainy. I didn't want to get up in the morning and I just felt bad...like really bad, like when your feet get cold and you can't get warm and your body just gets sore and over tired.

So what happens when it all fall apart? When you can't cheer up. When all the things you want to change are completely our of your control and all you can do is try not to step on people in your attempt to stand up. Sometimes I wish I weren't an adult. As a kid I didn't like feeling like I didn't have control, but I accepted it, because that is the nature of being a kid. You don't get to choose. Adults say "because I said so" and that is all there is to it. It's frustrating and annoying, but finite, whereas adulthood is a continuous burden of knowing you are at choice and feeling terrified that you might choose wrong. And then what? It's all your fault. No one to blame. No one to come in a fix everything.

So I spent a great deal of time sulking and sleeping. Coco and I went to Portland for a weekend of Happy Hours with my Dad and then I came back and did what big girls do...I went to work and talked to my bosses. We worked out our issues and they apologized, and I feel a little better, but it is a good reminder for me that I am meant for other things. I went to taekwondo and worked out hard and resolved my issues with my instructor. I told my friend the truth of what I had been feeling, but never known how to articulate, and I'm not sure where we stand, but I feel better for having been honest and done my best to do right by myself and everyone else. This week is better. Nothing is quite fixed or perfect or even over, but I realize like everything, this was an opportunity for me to practice being a better person. It's easy to be a good person when everything goes your way, when everything is light and easy. It's not so easy, when life is real and complicated. But here I am anyway, doing the best I can with what I've got as who I am.

Thursday, October 1, 2009

Still Brave: The Evolution of Black Women's Studies



My mom is an academic rock star. I have known this for several years. It was one of our shared mentors...a famous historian...who once tried to explain something to me about my mom's scholarship. She said "your mom doesn't publish tons of work, but that's because when she does publish, the kinds of work she produces pushes and redefines her field." And so it is fitting that when Nellie McKay (brilliant scholar, friend, mentor, and editor of the Norton Anthology on African American literature) passed away, she left behind a request that my mom, and two other amazing women continue the work that she had begun....and produce an updated version of the Black Women's Studies cannon "All the Women are White, All the Men are Black, but Some of us are Brave". The new edition is titled "Still Brave: The Evolution of Black Women's Studies" and it is available for purchase at a bookstore near you. Below is the blurb:

We are not goddesses or matriarchs or edifices of divine forgiveness; we are not fiery fingers of judgment or instruments of flagellation; we are women forced back always upon our woman's power. We have learned to use anger as we have learned to use the dead flesh of animals, and bruised, battered, and changing, we have survived and grown and . . . we are moving on.—Audre Lorde

Cheryl Clarke, Angela Davis, bell hooks, June Jordan, Audre Lorde, and Alice Walker—from the pioneers of black women's studies comes Still Brave, the definitive collection of race and gender writings today. Including Alice Walker's groundbreaking elucidation of the term "womanist," discussions of women's rights as human rights, and a piece on the Obama factor, the collection speaks to the ways that feminism has evolved and how black women have confronted racism within it.

Frances Smith Foster is a professor of English and women's studies, the former director of the Emory Institute for Women's Studies, and current chair of the English Department at Emory University.

Beverly Guy-Sheftall is president of the National Women's Studies Association, the founding director of the Women's Research and Resource Center, and a professor of women's studies at Spelman College.

Stanlie James is director of the African and African American Studies Program at Arizona State University, where she holds a joint appointment with the Women's and Gender Studies Program.


This is an amazing accomplishment. Congrats ladies! I know Nellie would be so proud of you and proud of this book. And the reviews are in and it's awesome, but don't just take my word for it. Here is what others are saying:

“Still Brave is a monumental book that reminds us of the centrality of Black Womanist genius and talent grounded in courage and struggle. We can never understand what it means to be modern, new world, or African without this precious volume.”

—Cornel West, university professor, Princeton University the evolution of black women’s studies

“To hold Still Brave in your hands is to hold a courageous, beautiful history of global importance. Black feminism and Black Women’s Studies are monumental achievements. Still Brave shows why.”

—Catharine R. Stimpson, university professor and dean of the Graduate School of Arts and Science, New York University

“ Faculty and students at all levels of higher education; community activists; policymakers; and those just plain curious to read the very best scholarship on race and gender will welcome the publication of this volume. James, Foster, and Guy-Sheftall have put together a political, creative, truly interdisciplinary anthology. They have crafted a narrative of Black Women’s Studies over the past twenty-five years that will sustain the field in the twenty-first century. They are to be congratulated.”

—Claire G. Moses, editorial director of Feminist Studies and professor of Women’s Studies, University of Maryland

“ Radiant with intellectual energy, this sequel to But Some of Us Are Brave will be as indispensable to Women’s Studies scholars of every race, age, ethnicity, and theoretical orientation as its precursor was. The writers whose classic and contemporary essays are collected here address an exhilarating range of multidisciplinary and multicultural issues, from religion to sexuality to the history of Black feminist criticism—including a closing riff on the Obama daughters and Pecola Breedlove—with verve, wit, passion, and sophistication.

—Sandra M. Gilbert, Distinguished Professor of English Emerita, University of California, Davis

“ First Lady Michelle Obama embodies both the dearest hopes and deepest fears of so many African American women. Her fierce advocacy for her children, the power of her embodied self, her broad appeal to Americans of all races and classes suggest the realization of a Black feminist dream. But the essays in Still Brave remind us of the fraught terrain on which First Lady Obama stands. They demonstrate how Black women must remain “nice girls” or risk being swiftly punished by an American public with little familiarity with or respect for the diverse, authentic realities of Black women. The authors of Still Brave allow us to glimpse this stunning diversity of Black women’s lives across differences of age, color, class, sexual orientation, and religious belief. They illuminate the social and political context, meanings, and burdens that frame Black women’s lives. They open space for politically meaningful anger, push back against rigid norms of respectability, and map the contributions of African American women’s unique and varied perspectives. In short the book is courageous, necessary, and exquisitely edited. It is a true testament to the scholar to whom it is dedicated.

—Melissa Harris-Lacewell, associate professor of Politics and African American Studies, Princeton University