What it do? I'm not working at a desk at the moment and my hours have gotten bananas (though my check is still peanuts, go figure), so it's a little hard for me to get to y'all. I have tried blogging from my supercool new Blackberry Curve (you see me!), but alas, I am too stupid. And lately, it feels like my body is awake, but my brain is sleep. Gargamel! I'm always on the Twitter though, so holler at a player when you see me in the Tweets: twitter.com/sistertoldja.
Oh, and it's Black Weblog Awards season again! Help me get a threepeat or else I might quit blogging, real talk in the Best Personal Blog category and/or win some new shit! 
Now, let's get down to buisniness. I overheard some White woman talking today about her work in the music industry with R&B artists. As she had a group of young Black men rapt about all she has accomplished and all who she has worked with, I have decided it is time we stopped letting White folks have all the fun. It is time for me to get paid by appropriating someone else's culture! Dammit! And while I know that NO OTHER GROUP OF PEOPLE has ever left the gate open and set out a plate of cookies for cultural pillagers like Black folks have (or rather, no other group has felt that they could only thrive with the help/approval of White folks, like Black folks have or rather, no other group has needed the affirmation of White folks like Black folks have, whatever), I think if I take some notes from popular culture, I could be the next big thing at something I had nothing to do with creating.
1)Take, Take, Take. Contribute Little.
Were there any laws regarding cultural ownership, Gwen Stefani's ass would be locked under the jail for the rest of her natural life. She's managed to pull a full time jack move on cholas, Rastas, hood sistas AND Japanese girls. Whereas Madonna has completed more swag swipes and managed to (usually) be more kitchy about it, Gwen seems to be convinced she really belongs to whatever her flavor of the month culture is. She even managed to turn four Japanese mega stars into her own little travelling minsrel show! However, Stefani isn't really bringing much to the table at all, musically or otherwise. Everything she is is pfilfered, but she makes it seem cool (I guess) because she's so natural doing it. The same thing goes for business owners. Don't worry about joinging any neighborhood councils or actually contributing to the area you serve. Just stack that cheese and let them people worry about themselves. Wanna make soul food with no connection to the folks who created it? Sure! No need to add to the design of the cuisene, just cook that shit and keep it moving.
2) Respect? Why Bother?
Justin Timberlake was allowed to leave Janet Jackson (JANET JACKSON!) out to dryafter "Nipplegate 2004" AND come on stage at the Golden Globes walking on his knees mocking Prince's height. PRINCE! Never mind that the boy was given easy acess to the R&B kingdom and had his solo career nurtured by some of the biggest producers in the game, dude felt no qualms about disrespecting Black legends from whom he has borrowed so much. And why should he? Hasn't stopped him from selling a record, has it? And it hasn't made Black folks feel any less compelled to work with him either. 
When it comes to small businesses, you can follow people around your store, talk greasy about them in your native tounges, check bags and do whatever you like! Who cares? If you have a serves folks can't get easily or cheaply elsewhere, you are in there like swimwear
3)Keep It Real...At Home
The cool thing about culural appropriation for professional gain is that when you go to bed at the end of the night, you can leave it all behind. Look at Fergie, Gwen AND Justin Timberlake: just as "soulful" and "Hip-Hop" as you can get on stage. But in their personal lives, they are partnered with three of entertainment's Whitest White folks. Gavin Rossedale ain't nobody's Rasta man, I tell you what. Not that I would ever advocate choosing your mate based on brand credibility. I'm just noting these choices as a reminder that these folks have embraced "ethnic" cultures for the stage, nothing more. When they go home, they eat Oscar Meyer bacon and green bean cassarole. Same for a lot of the folks who serve the hood. They deal with you fools from 9-9, pack up the whip and drive the Hell away to the safety of their own neighborhoods, with no friends or neighbors who look anything like the people they make their ends from.
That said, all that's left for me to do now is choose which group I'm gonna steal from. I've narrowed it down to three choices:
1) American Jewish Comedians
This may be a good look, as I don't sing and dance and Jewish Americans aren't known for that anyway. Remember the episode of Seinfield when the Gentile guy was accused of converting to Judaism "for the jokes"? I might take that route myself. However, given that the Jewishness of someone with a Gentile mother is questioned, I am not sure how a Black girl such as myself would fare as a new Jew. I'm thinking it will be awkward at the temple, not so good at Hillel and I doubt they'll let me be a Jewish cultural phenomenon. However, I do have some GREAT tips on haircare for Afros that some of my new Jewish comedian bredren could certainly use. L'chaim!
2)Asian Buisness Owners
Practically every Black neighborhood in America is bursting at the seams with Asian owned businesses- corner stores, beauty supply stores, nail shops and dry cleaners in particular. Now, though I have mixed emotions about this, I DO patronize some of these places (but only the ones that I feel treat their customers with respect and yes, I do make an effort to support Black buisnesses before others when I can). It's time for a little reciprocity. I think I should move to a Korean, Chinese or Indian neighborhood and open up my own stuff. I am thinking a Korean bistro or a gas station or maybe a waxing place. I will price out everyone in the neighborhood, speak in impossible to decipher Ebonics to my coworkers about the customers and place security mirrors all over the store.
3)Boring Ass "Regular" White America
I'd really like to go 'Hit Em Up Style' on good old "regular" Americans, just to do it. But if they had anything worth taking, they wouldn't take so much, would they? Dammit. What does middle America have? Hockey moms? Nascar? Racism? Wal-Mart? Corn? CORN! I am gonna start a cornfield in Brooklyn! Take that, take that!
PS-It's all fun and jokes, kids. Don't get all Tresevanty on me today, k?
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Who's Down With OPP?
Thursday, July 09, 2009
What The World Needs Now
is laughter. Sweet laughter. And I came prepared. Before you watch the clip below, let me explain how this song reentered my lifespace (and my iPod, via a homegirl who had it on her iTunes, YES [NEVER WOULD HAVE MADE IT WITHOUT YOOOOOOU!]). When my sister was in town late last year, I met a guy in the bar who was cute but rather dim. I prolly told y'all the story about how he asked about the "decor" in my apartment, because I seemed like I "like incense and candles and shit". My sister called me a week later and said "What happened with 'Slow and Sexy' from the bar?" I pretty much died.
And now, the most awesome collaboration in musical history: Shabba Ranks and Johnny Gill
So much to comment on, where do we start?
-Is that a drag queen at 0:02?
-"If you want to see me naked, say 'take it off'..." LEAVE IT ON SHABBA! LEAVE IT ON!
-"12 inches or more" Um, no. If that weren't excessively big anyway, why doesn't he know the exact size? Does it change? That's like saying "I wear a 36DD or bigger".
-Johnny Gill's fake Jamerican accent. OMG OMG OMG!
-Remember when Johnny said on his coming out special the New Edition "Behind The Music" that he sang all crazy on "Can You Stand The Rain" because he didn't like the song? Does he hate this song too?
-This fool said "Makey love all through the night".
You're all welcome,
Sister Toldja
Tuesday, July 07, 2009
I'm Still Struggling
If the death of Michael Jackson was one of those rare unifying moments that brought people together en masse to mourn and reflect, it seems that Steve McNair's vicious murder will instead be a polarizing one. I know that I have offended/disgusted/disappointed a few people on Twitter with my thoughts regarding the killing, but I feel how I feel. It's also difficult to present an entire argument in 140 character bursts, so I thought I'd break down my personal feelings on my personal blog. If you don't wish to deal with them, the 'x' in the right hand corner will always be your friend.
Steve McNair, in my opinion, did not deserve to die. I know that some would disagree, because the Bible states "the wages of sin are death" (I thought that was just a cleaver Me'Shell N'Degeocello line for years, btw). I also know that a lot of other Christians who are usually quick to jump up and down and extol the "sins" of gays and others, even in the face of their murder, are unusually quiet on this matter. I have heard (primarily from Black men) "We didn't know what was going on with him and his wife." Well, we know one thing that was: adultery.
I'll say it again so people understand that I mean it: barring some as yet exposed evidence that he had physically terrorized this woman in some way, Steve McNair did not deserve to die. Under my code of morality, what he did wrong was not something that merited death as a punishment. HOWEVER, it is because McNair broke his covenant with God and his wife and took on a disturbingly young girlfriend (one who was a teen at the time of their initial engagement) that he is no longer here. We often consider divorce, financial turmoil, unplanned pregnancy, disease transmission and issues with one's children to be the primary consequences of an affair. However, as with any situation we place ourselves in, there can be unforeseen troubles that arise. Such is the case here.
We are too accepting of infidelity in this country. We seem to take for granted that most men- especially Black men and especially those of means- will cheat, are entitled to do so even! Face the facts: McNair made a choice that cost him his life, his wife a husband and his children a father. It so happened that he died by the gun, so people find it easy to ignore his culpability. What if she had given him AIDS or if they had died the night she got a DUI just days before the murder suicide? McNair gambled with the lives and safety of himself and his family and he lost.
And for anyone who wants to cry "victim blaming", this is the same as someone getting assaulted while robbing a house. It doesn't ignore the crime against the criminal, but we have to acknowledge that the victim wouldn't have been assaulted had they been where they were supposed to be and did what they were supposed to do.
As for this woman, while I can't help but wonder what was wrong with her to push her to such a heinous act, I do believe there has to be a special place in Hell for someone who steals a woman's husband and then steals his life. I wish she had just blown her own brains out. Well, I wish that she had been raised better, received the help she needed to deal with her own issues and that she had never been a trifling, low life whore. I'm sad for her two, to be so messed up at 20 years old is heartbreaking. And having a full grown man with money sniffing around your drawers and dangling Escalade keys isn't the sort of remedy she needed. What a pathetic woman, to kill the father of four children...for what?
When you get married and/or procreate, you can no longer live your life for yourself. You have greater commitments to honor. The things a single person can do, like taking up with a crazy young broad, should be no more. Your decisions impact not only your own life, but the lives of those who love and depend on you. I wish Steve McNair to rest in peace, but more so, I wish he had chose wiser. And I hope that people learn from this instance and realize the weight your choices can have.
Friday, July 03, 2009
Who Gets The Jazz?
I have not forgotten my commitment to delivering some Jazz info every few days, it's just been a hectic couple of weeks. I am consumed with my upcoming move (yes, the saga of me and my horrible roommates ends Friday!) and, as you can tell, the passing of the King of Pop. I wanted to share one of my favorite internet thing things with you: Jazz On The Tube. It's a great search engine for Jazz clips on the web. You can also sign up to have a video (sometimes two) sent you your email addy each day- it's a real treat and great way to discover new tunes.
Last week, JOTT introduced me to Miles Davis' cover of Michael Jackson's "Human Nature" live at the Monreaux Jazz Festival:
Love it! I'd also like to share one of my longtime faves, John Coltrane and Johnny Hartman's "Lush Life":
Sometimes when I listen to Coltrane, I feel like I'm in love with him and we just have a very low key relationship. Is that weird? It was, forget I said it. But seriously, portraying Alice in a 'Trane biopic that I wrote=life goal, for real.
Charles Mingus-"Moanin"
This ish is amazing. Just think about it: Black folks, this is your history. And the present aint always a gift.Anyway, this is a crazy tune and it makes me think of Michele Obama's recent quote about Jazz being like democracy: "individual freedom with responsibility to the group." RESPONSIBILITY TO THE GROUP IS NOT BRINGING YOUR KIDS ON STAGE WHEN YOU TALKING ABOUT FUCKIN ALL THE GIRLS IN THE WORLD, btw. Shame on alla y'all involved!
I'll leave y'all with one of my favorite contemporary Jazz musicians, Roy Hargrove and his RH Factor. Not *technically* a Jazz song, but definitely worth presenting, this is their cover of Parliament's "I'll Stay". I think I have posted it before, but like my favorite NKOTB song, it bears repeating. Featuring D'Angelo, ftw.
Peace to all you cool cats and nappy sweets!
Sister Toldja
Monday, June 29, 2009
There's No Thinking About Anything Else Right Now, So Quit Deluding Yourself
And if you thought the BET Awards was gonna provide some sort of closure, well then maybe you should stop thinking all together and go take a nap.
As you can see, I took the pilgrimage up to Harlem's Apollo Theatre this weekend to pay my respects to dear Michael as best as I could.
I like how the sun hit the flowers in this picture. I couldn't get close enough to show how much stuff there was out there! And there was an "Off The Wall" tribute, where fans could sign their condolences. There were THOUSANDS of messages. I went late Saturday afternoon and about 200 people were out there singing:
I was only able to stay out there a couple minutes, I got pretty emotional. My eyes welled up and I wanted to cry, but I went by myself and decided to just keep it moving. When they got to "Ben", a song that makes me cry on a regular day, I left. Some people handle death well, some don't. I've never felt so emotional about a celebrity's passing. That could be due to the fact that no other artist who I felt so strongly about has left us yet. The only others who could bring me to that level...I don't even want to speak it in to existence. *Shudders* I'll just say both of them are closely associated with Michael and you will literally have to come pick my ass up off the ground if one of them passes before age 70.
How did you all feel this weekend? Michael barely left my thoughts except when I got kicked out the club for something I didn't do, don't even get me started, ugh. I heard his music everywhere I went, from the dollar store to the club to just walking down the street. And since I love his music so much and hate what I usually hear in those places, I almost felt happy. Michael was in my life space so much, it was almost exciting. There was an eerie feeling that something was gonna happen or that he was going to emerge and react to all of this. I know it sounds weird, but I am alone here? It just felt like this was the anticipation of him doing something, not him being funeralized. If love could raise someone from the great beyond, then MJ would have tapped Jamie Foxx on the shoulder last night and said "Thank you, I got it from here."
I went to one MJ tribute party and it took me a minute to actually enjoy myself. I kept thinking "We are here because Michael Jackson is dead." A friend gave me a little pep talk and reminded me that Michael is finally at peace and that we should be glad for that. And I loosened up, but there is still some pain and even denial on my part. Janet Jackson's brief apperance on the BET Awards really took me over the edge. I look at how I'm feeling and I'm just a fan. I can't even imagine the family's pain right now.
I should be able to though, I lost an uncle last week. Somewhat guiltily, I'll admit the obvious: his death didn't touch me nearly as much as that of a man I never met. We just didn't have much of a relationship, which is the case with most of my mother's side of the family. I hurt mostly for my mother's pain and since there was so little of my own, I was able to support her without falling apart. He was a good man, my uncle. He called me "Cabbage Patch" when I was a kid and it got shortened to "Cabbage". It didn't tickle me at the time, but I have to laugh now thinking about a 5-year-old being called "Cabbage". He also made me some great fried chicken once and I put ketchup on it, because kids are disgusting that way. Good times.
MJ's death has brought people together in a way I have only seen once before: the Obama election. It's amazing how people are grieving and celebrating Michael's life together and how social networks like Twitter and Facebook have facilitated that on a whole new level. How do we channel all this collectivism in to something good? What can we do with all this feeling that we're feeling? I've been "living Off The Wall" for almost 25 years, that's definitely a recommendation. What else? My heart hurts.
Friday, June 26, 2009
Why? (The King Of Pop Is Dead)
I don't really have any words yet and I am writing this about three hours after it happened. It is my sincerest wish that we focus our attention on Michael Jackson's contributions to the canon of Black Music...American music...and not on the more unfortunate details of his personal life.
I'll share a few MJ tales. I know all the choreography from "Beat It"! My BFFs and I learned it in high school in my homegirl's basement, watching the "HIStory" DVD! And waaaaay back on my 4th birthday, I remember my favorite preschool teacher playing the "Bad" record so that we could dance. Yes, it was on vynyl! It was the 80's! I thought Michael was the cutest boy ever, but my mother made a point to always talk about how cute he was as a kid before his looks...changed.
Well, we can't avoid that all together, can we? Over these next few weeks, we will be inundated with photo montages and video clips. And it will be hard to ignore the change in our brother's appearance. Yes, it happened and no, he wasn't our beautiful little brown boy at the time of his passing. But he was still the Michael we loved so, flaws and all. Here's something people never really mention: for all the effort put in to changing the racial appearance of his features (yes, I said it, I'm sorry!), Michael did not lack appreciation for the beauty of Africa. 
The world STOPPED when the "Remember The Time" video debuted. This video, which depicted the lovely Iman as an Egyptian queen, was the product of a man who hung out with Elizabeth Taylor...who played Cleopatra and messed with the global perception of the Egyptian race! Chew on that for a second.
And hello, "Liberian Girl" anyone?
Michael's influence over R&B and Pop music is undeniable, to say the absolute least. Groups like New Edition and their descendants (New Kids On The Block on down to Backstreet) were heavily molded by the work of the Jackson 5. Bobby Brown, Usher, Chris Brown, Ne-Yo, Justin Timberlake and many, many others owe the King of Pop their eternal gratitude. For while they were not all cut from the same cloth (actually, none of them were), they were definitely created in his image.
Michael's life may have been turbulent and he may have made some choices we don't agree with or done somethings that made us scratch our collective heads. However, we will never forget what Michael was really about: THE MUSIC! The beautiful and timeless and grooving and special and incomparable music he made for the majority of his years on this planet. I am so glad for who he was and who he will always be. The King of Pop.
Most of MJ's official videos are banned from being embedded, but I have to share a few faves nonetheless:
Let the musicians of today reflect on the legacy of this man and STEP THEIR GAME UP! As it stands, no performer has come close to topping MJ's legacy and no one is poised to either. Let's see a return to real music, y'all. Let's make Michael proud! Let's build legacies, not just take from them.
We are mournful, but we celebrate. Bismillah ir-Rahman ir-Rahim! With the glory of the creator, Michael, you lived and breathed beautiful music. And so we will love you forever and always.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
I Owe You Nothing
It's summertime (to some extent) and the living is hard. Women such as myself are pounding the pavement in the city in breezy work dresses for the day and various states of underdress for the night (or vice versa, whatever). And as arms, shoulders and thighs emerge from the oppressive fabric bindings of cold weather, men are loosing their minds.
Not that it's so easy to be young, female and on two legs in the wintertime. Men who speak ill garbage to women in the streets rarely take a vacation. However, the presence of puffy coats and snow boots tend to give some layer of protection from the out and out shameful objectification that emerges in the summer. Sorta like lambskin condoms, if you will. Not that I have ever used one, because I don't plan on getting pregnant while wearing a condom. MESSAGE. Anyway, men are making my daily life more miserable than usual and I am pretty pissed about it. 
Forget Ikea, THIS is my Vietnam
I can deal with men driving me insane by being non-committal or elusive or simply not knowing how to function in a relationship or being bad lovers or being great lovers who are so great they just gotta share it with every Tom, Dick and Sally or who I am just not in to or who are just not in to me. I can deal with those men because I have signed up for dealing with them. I can take them or leave them or work with them. But when it comes to the men in the street, I didn't ask for their conversation or company.
Nothing a woman wears is an open pass for harassment. And while I certainly get the worst treatment when my hemlines are at the "questionable" point, even when I have on my work gear, I gotta deal with some man demanding that I smile or TELLING me to stop and talk to him. The best part is when I reject one of this miscreants (usually in a polite way, depending on how he came at me) and I have to hear some commentary about "Fuck that bitch, she ain't that cute" or "She ain't got no ass anyway!" when I walk away. If I wasn't cute, why did you call me "gorgeous"? And how dare you comment about my body when I never invited you to appraise it in the first place?
If you haven't guessed, most of the men who are causing me this frustration are low-class street urchins. They are hugging the block when I leave for work in the AM and when I stumble in from the club in the earlier AM. Nothing about how I dress or carry myself on an average day would imply that I would cavort with these sort of men. But we know that street niggas aren't best known for their ability to be perceptive and reasonable. I don't have a problem with "Hey miss lady, how are you?" or "You look nice". But when someone is visibly sizing up every inch of your body? That's not okay. When someone gets angry that you don't want to talk to them? That's insane. When someone demands that you pay them some attention? That's ridiculous.
I've asked some of these men before, "When you wake up in the morning, is it your express goal to ruin as many Black women's days as possible?" Of course "express goal" and even "wake up in the morning" are foreign terms to these useless niggas, so I haven't really gotten anywhere with that beyond solidifying their belief that I'm just a stuck-up bitch. And one with a flat ass at that. I just fear that my demise will come after I have barked on some dude and informed him "Bitch, even with a small butt I am too fucking good for you ANYWAY! Too good looking, too smart, too motherfucking everything and I wouldn't matter if I had five titties and six toes, I would still be light years out of your motherfucking league!" And then, boom boom pow.
Part of the reason I get so miffed when people try and tell me that Hip-Hop has no measurable impact on grown-ups is because of behavior like this. I know that men whistled at pretty ladies and made rude comments about big brown thighs for decades before anyone ever rocked a mic, but I also know that Rap music has helped to completely brainwash our Black men and women about concepts of masculinity and male behavior. You sit around all day listening to 'bitch' this, 'ho' that, 'I just wanna fuck you', 'come here trick' and tell me it won't have some impact on how you view the world. BULLSHIT! And everyone who has tried to convince me otherwise has had some obvious signs of brainwashing in their very own behavior!
God forbid I have some ice cream. And you know I live for a McDonald's cone in the summer. 99 cent and only 150 calories*. So I'm bopping down the block with a cone and what do you know? One of your cousins is salivating like I'm deep throating a dildo. Or some knucklehead has to ask "Can I have some?" Depending on how bad my temperament is (it's a delicate equation of how many men have disturbed me that day times what time of the month it is divided by what else is going on in my life), I will either tell him "I rather stick the whole thing up my nose" or "Go to hell" or I'll just through the whole thing down and say "Thanks for ruining my fucking day." or I'll say "I'd rather die" or whatever I can come up with to try my damnedest to make them feel as uncomfortable as they have made me.
Before you apologists start chastising me for berating the Black man instead of trying to help him, please believe I have. I have told men "Hey, I don't deserve that", "That isn't the way you approach a lady", "I didn't ask to be spoken to that way" and even "You are old enough to be my father, if not my grandfather. If you want the respect you deserve as an elder, you have to carry yourself with some dignity." Think it works? The worst thing you can do, it seems, is dare to take ownership of your own body in the face of some lost souls who don't even own their own minds.
So it's summer and the cursing, spitting, dismissive eye roll, reproachful glare, snide remark arsenal is ready and already in use for those who dare challenge my ability to walk the streets without being made to feel like a piece of meat at best and a target at worst. And yet, I still feel powerless. The only think I really can do is to talk to younger Black boys (and girls) and help them to understand how this behavior makes women feel in hopes that the mini-Toldjas running around will not have to suffer as I have when they get older.
*Awaiting the onslaught in the comments section*
Sister Toldja
*Make sure they don't overfill the cone. A serving is only 3.5 ounces, but they will sometimes give you much more!
Monday, June 22, 2009
Stop It. Now. b/w Enter The Jazz Messenger
Dear Black people,
Yes, that's me. I didn't tell you I grew my eyebrows out?
I have some things I need to get off of my chest. We have been together for a long time. Almost 25 years, plus ancestral memory and such. This is the silver anniversary! You know most Black folks don't make it much further than wood! Shoot, a lot of us didn't make it past cotton, if you think about it.
Ahem. Anyway, I need you to do something for me. Something big. Consider it a birthday gift. Or hell, let's just call it reciprocity for 25 years of loyal service.
Black people: STOP EMBARRASSING ME!
Seriously, this is getting old! Lord knows I have made some mistakes in my day, but for the most part, I have fallen short of any sort of behaviors that reflect on the collective in a bad way. And yet, I have the unfortunate luck of being bound by race to so many....miscreants! Ne'erdo'wells!
I'm sick of your homophobia, I'm sick of folks thumping the King James version of the Bible (when they've hardly even read it, let alone challenged the notion of a political figure deciding that he can rewrite such a text), I'm sick of the Tyler Perry industrial complex, I am sick of auto-tune, I'm sick of gold teeth, I'm sick of award shows, I'm sick of name brand clothes.
It's not that I care so much about what other folks think of us. Especially now when we have the big trump card that is our President. It's just that folks like the goon who came up with "My president is Black/my Lambo's blue" have a lot of sway over how young Black folks perceive Blackness and what it means to be us. Furthermore, it just blows my mind how some of us disregard the work our elders did in order to gain basic human dignity by making an effort to go out and be as niggerish as possible. There is not a day that goes by that I don't want to grab one of our folks on the street and shake them and say "WE DESCEND FROM GREATNESS! AND I DON'T JUST MEAN THE KINGS AND QUEENS FROM THE DAMN BUDWEISER CALENDAR FROM THE 90'S! WE HAD DIGNITY JUST DECADES AGO! PULL UP YOUR PANTS! TURN YOUR 'SWAG' OFF AND YOUR BRAIN ON!"
When it comes to Negritude, I'll teach you how to stunt, my people. Angela Davis will teach you. Michela Angela Davis will. Jill Nelson. Jill Scott. Kevin Powell. Mark Anthony Neal. Barack and Michelle Obama. And from the ancestral cabinet, George Jackson, El-Haji Malik and Betty Shabazz, John Henrik Clarke and so many others will. And you can go forward and do us proud, okay? Just please stop cooning and clowning and making us shame.
Now, since I am trying to be in the business of walking the talk...lately, I have been feeling sad about the lack of exposure most Black folks have to Jazz. And no, not that smooth B.S. that made Kenny G a millionaire many times over. I'm talking about REAL Jazz. While I was raised on Jazz, particularly by my father's influence, even I am very short of being a true expert or afficianado. I own albums by folks including Nina Simone, Coltrane, Miles, Mingus and my great-uncle by marriage Thelonious Monk, but there is so much for me to learn. Sadly, most of the folks who are interested in Jazz these days aren't Black. I can't blame them, that'd be like throwing a filled fridge away and being mad when your neighbor decides to make a good meal with your trash. But I don't want us to completely let other folks take ownership over that which our people created.
That said, I will be adding "Jazz Messenger" to my list of self-appropriated titles. No less than thrice a week, I will be including a video or a link to something Jazz related at the close of the post. Some of these songs will be familiar to me and others will be new discoveries. Let's learn and grow together, folks. We come from Charlie Parker and Alice Coltrane, let's not only limit ourselves to Little Wayne and Rihanna, mmkay?
The first clip is one of my favorite tunes of all time, Miles Davis' "Blue In Green". It appears on the seminal Kind Of Blue album, which is believed to be the greatest selling and most influential Jazz record of all time. "Blue In Green" is a ballad and embodies the modal* sound of the album.
Ya dig?
Sister Toldja
*I'm still trying to figure out how to totally process the difference between the different sub-genres of Jazz (modal, cool, hard bop, bebop, etc)beyond the obvious distinctions. If anyone has any suggestions on how to do so without knowing how to read music, please drop me a line!
** Shout out to Polly Pocket, who I met at the Brooklyn Hip-Hop Festival! I love meeting readers! If you ever see me in the streets, holler at your girl!
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Black Is Black As Black
I have the site set up where I moderate comments that are received more than a week after the original entry was posted. I read them, but I don't usually engage older discussions again, 'cause I have usually made my point by then. However, I have been stewing a little over a comment that was made last week about a post from September regarding Black folks' unhealthy relationship with complexion. In the original post, I addressed the fact that Black folks tend to bemoan preference for light skin and accept (if not celebrate) those who solely/typically desire darker-skinned mates:Why the double standard? I have two theories. The most obvious being that because darker-complexioned folks have been the greater victims of the legacy of slavery's caste system, celebrating them serves as a criticism of their disenfranchisement. There hasn't been a time in Afro-American history where being light-skinned made one vilified or considered less-attractive, so there is no widespread need to celebrate or convince ourselves that "light is beautiful". That notion has been shoved in our faces for far too long.
I also believe that Black people tend to associate darker skin with authentic Blackness. As a result, when we hear someone laud the looks of a darker brother or sister, we subconsciously interpret this as an affirmation of their appreciation for Blackness. Thus, a Black man proclaiming his appreciation for dark skin and kinky hair is celebrating his Black heritage, whereas a Black man extolling the beauty of light skin and curly hair is revealing his self-hatred or color issues.
Here is the recent comment from "Foxy Black":"I don't think that a preference for dark skin is as wrong as a preference for light. Let's face it...we are (when not diluted with other blood) a dark people. To prefer lighter skin is to prefer black when it is not fully black.
I find that lighter skin people, men and women, tend to ASSUME that people want them. That makes people like me say 'to hell with you'. I like darker skinned men and I'm not sorry for that.
And like jenteel said, when people say they want to be 'darker' or they want a 'dark' man, what are they really wanting? Do they just mean caramel or milk chocolate? Even a man with a peppermint pattie complexion still has some trouble."
It's rare that a comment on this blog makes me upset but this comment made me...well, upset. It's not that I am surprised that people feel this way, as she pretty much summed up the attitude that I described in my piece. But you know how there are things that you may secretly think or feel, but wouldn't express publicly because you KNOW it's kinda ignorant or flat-out wrong? Yeah, I would have put this comment in that boat.
I personally think that when it comes to having color-preference, it's one thing to be drawn usually to a certain type and another to say "I only like XYZ" or "Only XYZ men are attractive." I also think it's somewhat normal to be skewed in the direction of mates who resemble a parent. I know I begrudgingly accepted that I am particularly attracted to tall light skinned men and figured that it had to do with the fact that my first image of manhood was a tall, light-skinned father. And as a daddy's girl, I've been subconsciously looking for a man who reminded me of him either physically or in terms of behavior and attitude. I also think that as a function of the ego, we tend to seek mates who remind us of ourselves. Looking back at the men I have liked the most in my dating/crush having history, the ones I wanted most resembled me in a lot of ways: physically, personality-wise, interests, profession, etc. So yeah, big sturdy high-yellow artsy boys tend to score rather high in my book. But it doesn't negate the good looks of men who don't look like me.
However, I don't think that I should feel any shame about my preference more than the dark complexioned sister who tends to prefer chocolate men. I think it's the folks who are ONLY attracted to one sort of look or who are primarily attracted to folks who look different from themselves or different from their parents who are speaking to some sort of issues. I.E. the friend I had in high school who was the color of dark cocoa and said "When I think of a pretty girl, light skinned girls are the first thing that come to mind." His mother, who he had a great relationship with, looked just like he did. So did his dad.
HOWEVER, we had this conversation in September and I didn't want to have it again. What "Foxy's" comment raised in me was frustration at the notion that complexion is a quantifier of Blackness. I find that absurd. Now, we are all intelligent to realize that there is no standard scale for accessing degrees of Negritude and there is, of course, a difference between being racially Black and culturally Black (though I would argue that one can be the former and not the latter, but one MUST be the former to be the latter). And we know that there are a number of ways one could be culturally Black, even if they hate Rap, basketball, Soul Food and many of the other cultural products typically associated with Blackness.
But is "Foxy" implying some sort of reverse one-drop rule? Where "authentic" Blackness is determined by complexion and percentage of non-Black blood in one's veins? We aren't in the Sudan. We are generations upon generations removed from Africa. One could look like Vanessa Williams and have never met a relative who was anything but Black. Would she be less Black than someone who had stronger African features? What about the browner-skinned biracial kid who doesn't look mixed. Is she Blacker than him? I've know folks who looked as "out of place" in their family as Denise and Sandra did to the other Huxtables. That's what happens with generations of race mixing and complexion mixing and science stuff that I really don't know much about.
We are NOT a "dark people". As Africans in America, or even globally, we are a people of many, many complexions. We are as much Barack as we are Michelle. And while MOST Africans were typically darker at some point in our history, we are in 2009. If Blackness were determined by complexion only, perhaps people would wear Clarence Thomas on their t-shirts instead of Malcolm X. Black is as Black does. And while not everything we do is beautiful or for the best interests of the collective, it is not complexion that determines one's value in the community. 50 Cent is dark. Huey Newton is light. Who represents a better image of Black manhood? Where does the man who looks like 50 and acts like Huey fit in?
Theoretically, I understand what "Foxy" is saying: to appreciate dark skin and to value it most is to value who you are and where you came from. However, it would be foolhardy to act as if we are not hundreds of years deep in looking like all shades of the complexion rainbow. If dark skin once meant something about your proximity to Africa and Blackness in thought or action...it doesn't now. Find another way to express your love for who you are as an African descendant, because marginalizing high yallers and mulattoes isn't going to cut it.
In fact, "Foxy", I'm of the opinion that I am Blacker than you, despite being (presumably) lighter. Care to challenge that? I'd gladly publish a counterpoint.
Sister Toldja-
Black as the Ace of Spades
Black as Kathleen Cleaver
Black is as Black does
Monday, June 15, 2009
Sir Fabulous Does, In Fact, Explain It All
As I mentioned last week, my nearest and one of my dearest SIR FABULOUS HIMSELF will be answering questions from you good folks on The Beautiful Struggler! Yay! And despite the fact that he filmed/enabled "Slowly, Surely (The Drunk Taxi Remix)",he is brilliant and gives super duper advice.
For his first consultation, he is solving the problems of our friend Unequivocal Difference:
UD: I've had two different issues I've been grappling with and some outside advice would be wonderful. The first is serious where as the other is kind of silly, but confusing none the less:
I am conflicted in terms of occupation. I have recently graduated from college, and have been looking for jobs. I know the job of my dreams is out there, but I am feeling pressure to get a job that I will probably end up hating because I don't come from a family that can monetarily support me for years while I try to chase after this dream (I want to be a news caster, but most entry level jobs are part time and I would not be able to support myself with a part time job). So what do you suggest I do? Should I wait for a time where it would be easier for me to chase my dreams, after a few years or so - possibly missing my window of opportunity in the mean time? Or should I scratch and survive anyway I can/possible be a burden on my family to get to where I know I need to be?
SFH: You don’t sound conflicted as much as you sound afraid. (Or maybe that fear is fueling your confliction?) You know that taking this "stable" job is going to frustrate you and lead to happiness, so how secure is it? Unhappy employees generally don’t do well, and in this economy, employers are just looking for a reason to shave staff. Follow your dream. You say you can’t support yourself on one part-time job? Well what about two? Side gigs and hustles are wonderful ways to supplement your income. You can also explore other interests and expand your network while working outside of your "primary" job.
Ultimately, you’re going to try to chase that dream at some point, as you will tire of people pleasing. Why not cut out the bull in the middle and go for it right now?!?
UD: There is a young man who I have liked for a while, and he likes me - which is great! But the unfortunate part... The really really! unfortunate part is in the bedroom we just CAN NOT get it together. It's not that we aren't sexually attracted to each other, but it's just a mess of things. I've liked him too long to just give up on my feelings for him, but I can't bare the thought of having to sleep with him again. People have suggested I help 'train him up', but he swears he's great in bed and probably won't be open to suggestions. So how can I get around either his stubbornness, or come to grips with the fact that if I choose to continue to like him - I could never date him because I couldn't subject myself to that on a consistent basis?
SFH: Hmmm. This one is tricky. For starters, it seems to me like you and the guy need to work on your "relationship" first and foremost. Based on your question, I don’t know that there is clarity in communication, or about what this "relationship" is. If you can’t talk to him honestly, this is gonna go nowhere. Fast. Next, you say that if you continue to like him you could never date him, because the sex is bad. So are you two dating now, or just "liking" each other? If it’s the former, pump the brakes on sex, and get to a space where you can share things, including personal and critical things. If it’s the latter, which I suspect it is, you can’t demand or expect much as you have no proprietary rights to his lovemaking, and he’s probably getting it in somewhere else as well. You just like each other. This sounds to me like a fling that won’t make the memoir because it’s just not that exciting. Don’t feel bad however, as we all will experience those. Just delete this from your list and your "number" and move on to the next. The last tidbit, is the ugly side of possibility, which is maybe it’s you? But I haven’t driven that course, and only like fish on a plate, so I can’t really discuss that too much.
ST: I'll jump in on that one and ask, what are you doing sexually, sister? You busting them Kegels like you 'posed to? I'll agree with SFH that the relationship/friendship is what you need to reconcile first- what is it, what do you want it to be and what does he want? But as far as the bad sex goes, what makes it bad? Is it so inconsistent with your past lovers that he has to be the culprit? Give us more deets, woman! And remember, sex is work! It sometimes takes a while to get a groove with a new partner. If he's worth it, then work on it. Don't be afraid to read books, watch porn and do some self study to get your personal sex game up to and above standard.
If YOU want Sir Fabulous to solve your life conundrums (with a possible unsolicited chime-in from moi), then please drop a line to SFH@thebeautifulstruggler.com and we will hook you up!
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