In a burned out city that whispered from its ashes willful forgetting would only salt that richness; turn the fertilizing of it to Death.
There are few, if any, choices a black body can make that do not speak its history, including the requisite traumas and proud triumphs over them. Under the gaze of the status quo, this body, with its history written all over it, is an indictment of the status quo. Erasing that physical body becomes critical to sustaining not just the aesthetic of the status quo but more importantly its structure. Erasure is not necessarily the literal murder of it, though that is one way to erase it, but more typically, the suppression of it. Suppression often comes in the form of assimilating the black body into the status quo.
I am here to talk about silence. And the violence of it. How it traumatizes the body that practices it as well as the bodies it is imposed upon. I want to talk about how it (silence, I mean)—and I made up this word—invisibilizes. And how that act—to render someone, a body, invisible is violence. [...]
We know that the rules of engagement; the strategies for survival that Baldwin and Johnson try to outline are flimsy at best.
Can we give them our stories without curling their backs into it, yellowed pages crisp and crumbling like sepia snow into piles we sweep from in front of our bookshelves? Will we love them only; wait and watch them turn to men who fail themselves for want of recognition?
I just read that African-American buying 'power' is a myth. And I don't wanna be leading y'all astray or shaming working class folks just trying to catch a break on their kids' holiday shopping. 'Cause you know I was posting about boycotting the shopping season and what not on my Facebook page. My bad I guess. I think I understand.
Some of y'all--well my twin and my mom mostly--have known the dark side of my last two professional years. When the profession gets out of the way of the work you get your magic. But with the recent consumer-driven model of higher education that magic can fail as it gets flat and stale. Right now [...]
Collateral 80% civilian. Let that sink in a sec. I don't have the answer to the equation but I think the equation needs to be on the board. Stare at it; the problem may be on your next test and the answer may well cost you your life.
(About Breathing Lesson 101) I was 25 the first time I fully understood. I was navigating the tenuous journey of the Good Girl. At the time I was being courted by an older man who decided out loud and before our first real date that I was a sexual outlier—an adult virgin. The encounter was [...]
Happy Birthday Miriam Makeba.
(a post from 2008)
Miriam Makeba, South African singer/activist/conjure woman, has transitioned at the age of 76.
I’m not anything close to the biggest fan of her music. I only remember listening to one of her songs songs ad nauseum a couple of years ago—can’t even remember its name—that was especially good for getting it going on the elliptical machine.
But Makeba’s life, more than her music, was an inspiration and challenge to me.
The media can hardly be trusted in the connections it makes or implies. Nonetheless their reports of her death say that Makeba suffered a heart attack after singing “Pata Pata” (a seriously danceable track I do happen to know) at a benefit concert in Italy for the writer Roberto Saviona. Saviona’s life had been threatened by the Camorra, (a “mafia-like organization” according to Wikipedia) for taking a stand against the group in his writing.
Perhaps what is most obviously inspiring about the…
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