An Open Letter to Fans of The Help (Updated)

Update - Here's another explanation of how I feel: “The Help,” a feel-good movie for white people.

Like the novel on which it’s based, the movie adaptation of “The Help” will likely be a huge hit with white audiences. But for black viewers it is condescending and frequently insulting, despite admirable performances by Davis and Spencer, who bring a measure of complexity — actual flesh and blood — to the characters of Aibileen and Minny. It speaks volumes about the ongoing racial chasm in this country that a feel-good movie for white people will leave many black filmgoers feeling sad — and pessimistic that America can ever become anything more than “a nation of cowards.”

Thank you, Valerie Boyd.

The Opposite of Love Is Not Hate

Last week, I posted some thoughts on the Boston club that shut down because too many people on line were black. I've since updated it.

The guy who organized the private party shares his "[dismay] that after having spent the last few hours with the club owner, I do not believe him to be a racist." Of course, the guy is, but that nonetheless made ptcruiser over at Prometheus6 wonder why guy's "deeper feelings" was even an issue. To which I responded that:

@ ptc - Okay. Let's set aside his deeper feelings. Discrimination took place. If the white-US can't accept that at least 93% of them are racist, then they need to accept that fact that discrimination happens, it happens primarily to people of color, and it's perpetrated primarily by whites. I'm not sure how we're going to at least end discrimination, if not racism, if white US-Americans won't live in reality.

"We Don't Eat Pumpkin Pie!"

LOL!! Oh my goodness! Marcellus Wiley is hilarious! He and Doug Gottlieb were hosting the ESPN tv/radio show, "Mike and Mike" today, and in discussing their families' Thanksgiving traditions, Wiley explains that black folks don't eat pumpkin pie! You have to scroll down the link I share, but someone else twitters about it, too.

Wow! Hilarious! I know I prefer sweet potato pie. But I was hesitant to make that generalization. That Wiley said it on national TV no less, and discussed it several times on other programs . . . Oh! That's just great stuff!

But let's be honest. Thanksgiving ain't a holy day for everybody, and Shari Valentine over at Racism Review shares a brief and poignant description of the 4th Thursday of November in her Lakota Souix home:

Tea Part-(i)ers

Way below is a recent comment I left on Prometheus6 in response to New Yorker article, The Rise of the Tea Party Movement. First though, I should give some explanation.

I've come to realize as of late a couple of things:

1. I do spend maybe too much energy commenting on other blogs.

My health being what it is, I can't afford not being discriminate in how I spend my energy. The thing is, righting something of scholarship takes just an inordinate amount of energy. Starting with deciding what I'm going to right about and keeping everything straight in my head. I mean, sometimes, by the time I've finished thinking out my thoughts on one issue, I've actually gone through 2 or 3 issues. Now granted, I can usually manage to remember what thought prompted another, and I can follow my logic from one argument to the next. But it can be like trying to stretch out a slinky; and as soon as I try to blog, the slinky recoils and I get slapped in the face. Because I'm trying to choose between a number of topics that're all intertwined and can all be gotten at from different angles.

Man in the Mirror, No1KState Remix

Hopefully, this song is saying as much as I hope. Though I tend to focus on racism, and do suggests white people shut up and take a look at the man in the mirror, I also have a great concern about issues of justice and righteousness all around the world.

For clarification, according to Glen Harold Stassen and David P Gushee, in Kingdom Ethics (p151), the Hebrew word for "righteousness" means "delivering justice."

--the kind of justice that delivers the downtrodden from domination and brings the outcasts into community.

So, what I mean by righteousness is that we live in a society where everybody is treated equally in receiving justice, and even wrongdoers are restored back into a place of good-standing with the community. You may be familiar with principles of restorative justice, which includes restitution to victims of crimes, whether the "criminal" is an individual, a group, or a state.

The implications for this should be fairly obvious in terms of race. There's no way you can look throughout American history, from the moment some person realized that African indentured servants couldn't mix in with the crowd and escape, to the present, and claim that African Americans have received or are receiving justice.

But I don't just mean justice and righteousness in that a person who's robbed gets all his/her stuff back, or in that when a large company like Exxon destroys entire communities, that company pays the full cost to restore the communities. So, yes, I mean that even large corporations can't buy their way out of trouble. The way I'm using it, big financial executives would not receive bonuses; we'd make sure people stayed in their homes; credit would continue to flow; the banks would still have large amounts of debt to pay; and, we put in place regulations that would prevent these things from happening again. I believe you get the gist of that. That's justice, right?

Ok. So what do I mean when I say righteousness? Think of it first on an individual level, right? A righteous person who sees someone in need tries to meet that need, regardless of how the needy got there. See, in American capitalism, for the most part, everyone is supposed to sink or swim on their own. We leave everything to the "invisible hand" of the free-market. So, we have an entire group of people we call the "working poor" because even though they're good people and they're working as hard as they can, their work isn't valued enough such that they get paid a living wage. So, our economic system may allow for a waitress to work as hard as she can and be as nice and kind to all her customers as she can but still not make a decent income. So, the impetus (I hope I'm using the word properly.) is on the customer, and a righteous customer will give her a sizable tip. Right?

Okay. When I say righteousness, I include entire groups of people, whether it's one ethnic group to another, or a government to it's constituents, or one nation to another. I mean that, for example, the US government would do for the waitress what we intend for the customer to do. That is righteousness.

So, for me, justice and righteousness includes holding wrongdoers accountable, no matter how big or small. Obviously, they include not exploiting the poor. But I also mean the extent to which the government, in the case of the US, guarantees everyone healthcare, decent housing and food, and a competitive education. There are a number of ways to ensure this, from making the minimum wage always a living wage to single-payer health care. Again, I hope I don't have to spoon feed you what this means for race. But I will if necessary. The point is that we as a country don't just accept that, "There'll always be some unemployment," and hope we're not the ones unemployed. It's not that we want everyone at all times to have a job or career or business. It's that we don't leave citizen to the whims of the free-market.

Because, at the end of the day, the "government" is made up of people we elect to represent us, who're all presumably "good" people. So the "government" should be doing what we, a group of "good" people 300million strong, would do if we each had the power. Here's the dirty little secret: collectively, we each do have the power in the form of our representative democracy. (This is the reason why most black people hold all white people accountable for racial discrimination. We know that if even just a bare majority of white Americans really wanted to ensure equality for everyone and was really "sorry" for what happened in the past, the situation in regards to race would be drastically different.)

So, I don't just ask you to look at the "man in the mirror" as an individual. I ask that Americans look ourselves in the mirror as a nation. What kind of Supreme Court do we really want? I ask that the West look at itself in the mirror. Are you really carrying out foreign aid as though you're dealing with people who are your equal? I ask the all leaders of governments and heads of states, regardless of the legitimacy or perceived lack thereof of your position, look yourselves in the mirror. Do you really want your people to prosper, or just yourself and some friends? Whatever your answer is, for heaven's sake, be honest!

Cause if you're a white person, or a man, or anyone, who want to "conserve" the status quo, you're racist. If you really don't wanna be racist, we can talk later about how to make the US a nation of equality and not white supremacy. But the first step to solving a problem is admitting you have one. Take a look at the "man in the mirror, make that change."

And this is my response to just about every recent news development.

Momma, You Know I Love You

That's the lyrics to that "Soul Food" song. Not sure I'm going to play it, though. I just refer to it because "Happy Mother's Day" is done.

Now, about mothers, let me offer a word of advice to those of you with the more strong-headed children.

My mother is an amazing woman. She's managed to take care of me, my father to some extent, and the family business all the while still being involved in church, civic and political activities. Just recently, she's decided to cut back and focus her attention on family and the business. Something I've been suggesting for years.

My mother is the one who introduced me to public life, right? She's instilled in me a sense of civic duty. A responsibility to my community and to others to help in any way I can. And for my family, due to my great-grand and grandfather, and our baby-faces, public life and political office is one of the ways in which we can help.

She's also instilled in me a sense of business acumen. Buy low, sell high. Invest and save. Manage and budget your money. Save for retirement which will need to be about 70% of your current income.

She's instilled in me a sense of excellence, or to be more honest, perfection(ism). You know, try my best at every turn. Nothing less than a best effort is acceptable. That whole thing. Because of her, I'm terribly, terribly self-motivated.

And to her great agony, she's also managed to instill in me a strong-will. She's actually okay with it when I use it against other people or situations. I managed to finish college even though the onset of CFS came my last year due to God's grace and a strong-will. She's proud of that. I'm single, but should I marry, there's no worry that I may marry someone who's abusive. She's proud of that. I speak out against sexism, even if it's to my uncle. She's proud of that. I've managed to be my own person despite all the teasing and peer-pressure I endured growing up. She's proud of that.

I'll even stand up for myself when I feel like she's disrespecting my boundaries and independence. She not proud of that.

So here's my advice to mothers of strong-will children. Mothers whose children don't always take their word as gospel. Children who will let you know they think they're right and you're wrong.

You are the mother. This title and position can only change if you allow it. If you apologize when they fuss because you didn't cut the crust, the position has changed. If you let them put you in time-out, the position has changed. But, if when they fuss about the crusted pb&j sandwich, you calmly say to them, "You don't talk to momma like that," while you cut the crust, you've done two things:

1. You've diffused the situation. Oh trust and believe, if you throw your shoulders back and straighten your back preparing for battle, your child will do the same. Oh I know you don't allow that and this poor child will have to suffer your wrath. No pb&j for little Toot-toot. Here's my question for mothers who take the battle-route: what do you think you've accomplished? Do you really think you've taught your child how to respect other people, including you? No, no, no. Listen. As iron sharpens iron, so a strong-will sharpens a strong-will. What you're doing is teaching your child how to battle.
2. You've taught them how to respect you, themselves, and others. I know you may well think that not putting up a resistance is not the way to teach your child to respect you. But understand this. Your child can't respect you if s/he doesn't know how. How we treat others is by responding to evil words with kindness. This kindness doesn't put the other person in a better battle position than yourself. This isn't about taking licks by refusing to fight. This is about ending the other person's need to fight. This kindness, in fact, disarms, the other person. How can the other person fight when they have no weapon? Turning the other cheek isn't letting the other person know they can hit you again. It's letting the other person know you will not fight, they're making themselves look bad, and, by the way, "That first punch didn't knock me out." By killing your child with kindness, as it were, you're made them embarrassed about having had such an attitude. Your child will probably put on a sheepish face and apologize. "Sorry, Mommy. I love you."

We've gone from the child trying to boss you around to the child now seeking your approval, right? And how do you respond? You then respond by approving of their humble behavior. No, no, no. This isn't teaching your child false humility, that they're worth less than other people. This is teaching your child true humility, that everyone is worth as much as them. And this isn't approving of their bad attitude. It's approving their response to you. Yeah, yeah, yeah. You gave them what they wanted. But you've taught them that they can get that by being nice. You know, "you get more with sugar than with vinegar." Or, some such saying. Whatever.

Now, it may not go as scripted in every case and lets deal with two probable situations. Let's say your child responds with, "You better cut my crust off." Here, you take away the sandwich, which now has no crust, until they behave. Again, you're not engaging them in battle, not sharpening their strong will. In this case, you're just demanding respect. That's fair. They don't get what they want until they do what you want by respecting you. That's fair. Then, situation #2, let's say your child doesn't respond to your kindness with kindness or such. Let's say kindness has no effect on them whatsoever. No emotional response at all. They never put on a sheepish face and seek your approval. Then instead smile snarkly and just say "ok." Darling, I hate to have to be the one to tell you, you might be dealing with a psychopath.

Don't get me wrong. It's not standing up for my independence that my mother has a problem with. Here's the problem: by defending my independence, I have to challenge the idea that she's right. Her problem is with me challenging her. And she has this old-school, discredited, idea that a child should never, ever go about as though the parent is wrong. Well, on second thought, when it comes to other people and their children, it's okay. When it comes to me and her, it's not. All my life, I've felt like she's disrespected my agency of choice. Trust and believe, even children have the ability to choose and they like to exercise their ability to choose. Yes, set boundaries. Don't let your child choose what's for dinner, choose what you cook. But whether or not your child eats dinner is up to them. Let them sit there hungry. They'll eat eventually. And most important, you've let them exercise their right to choose on matters dealing with them. But you've set the boundary that they don't choose on matters under your control.

But really. If your child has realized their independence from you as a separate individual, be glad about that. That's something that has to happen for healthy human growth and to become a healthy adult. And in fact, if your child never asserts this independence as a separate adult, they will either grow up to be everybody's doormat, or they're a psychopath who can adjust as needed before they strike to kill.

When they assert their independence from you as a separate individual, assess the situation. Is this decision ultimately about you or them. If it effects you as in the previous pb&j example, diffuse the situation with kindness. If it effects your child, like what shoes they wear on any random day just to go out, again, diffuse the situation with kindness. And this kindness says, "Okay, you can wear those shoes."

Or, if they're trying to wear sandals during winter, this is what you do. You acknowledge that they want to pick out their shoes themselves be inform them, teach them, that sandals will make their feet cold. You done two things here: one is letting your child know s/he's been heard. That's very important. Everyone wants to be heard and one of the things that exacerbates an argument between my mother and me is that she never lets me know I've been heard. This also helps them understand for themselves as a separate individual that you don't wear sandals during winter cause your feet will get cold. Next winter, you have to tell them they can't wear sandals. Then, after acknowledgement and teaching, let them choose among the pairs of acceptable shoes. If you have a stubborn child you refuses you, still don't fight back. Don't sharpen their stubbornness. Just continue acknowledging, teaching, and offering alternative choices. Children's attention span isn't long enough to be stubborn for very long. And if you're pressed for time, just put a pair of shoes on their feet and toss them in the car screaming and crying. Again, a child's attention span isn't long enough to scream and cry about shoes. Just as sure as you're born, they'll notice something else and move on.

Now that I've gotten all that off my chest, let me go practice what I preach and try kindness on my mother. I ask that those of you who know the words of prayer, pray for me.

Freedom Writing, Am I?

I just finished watching the movie Freedom Writers. And by just finished, I mean it went off two minutes ago. I'm embarrassed to confess I actually had the book for about a month but never read it. And I'll tell you why. One reason is that given my situation, I try not to add anymore sadness to my environment. That's why I didn't read the book.

But as for why I'm just now watching the movie? I had already seen Dangerous Minds. I have seen some Meyrl Streep movie where she plays a violin teacher, is it? I've seen the Ron somebody movie.

So. Another movie where some pasty, suburban white teacher comes into a rowdy, poor, urban classroom and manages to teach these kids of color where everyone else had failed? My feelings were, simply, "Seen it."

And, I'm going to stick with that thought for a moment. My mom was a teacher. My aunt is a teacher. My great-grandfather help build a school for black children during neo-slavery, or rather, Jim Crow. I'm afraid teaching may be my truth. But that's for later.

My point is this. With the exception of Lean on Me, I haven't seen or heard of a movie where a black teacher, or any other teacher of color for that matter, comes in and changes the lives of his/her students. Even though as I've laid out, I know it happens everyday. And what about the movie of the black teacher, or any other teacher of color for that matter, who comes into a suburban, white class, honor students, disciplined, well behaved, and changes their lives? Has that not happened? Ever? When's that movie coming out?

Come to think about it. I've even seen the movie of the first little black girl who integrated some Southern school, and because none of the white parents wanted their child(ren) in class with her, she ended up in class alone. Being taught by a white teacher. For a year. One on one.

And even in that movie, the white teacher was the "star."

What is it with white people and their, or maybe your, need to be the "star" in every show. Amistad. A Time to Kill. Ghosts of Mississippi.

Mississippi Burning. I mean, damn. You people will rewrite history to make yourselves the hero(ine)(s), and then bitch and moan because the first black attorney general over 200 years after the "birth" of a nation that has always had black people in it called everyone a "nation of cowards." And you wonder why anyone would call you a coward? It's because you're too much of a punk to look yourself in the mirror and say . . .

"I'm prejudiced . . .

"The country I live in and cheer for was founded on the subjugation of another group of people . . .

"The country I live in and cheer for grew territorially by genocide and theft of another group of people . . .

"Today, I still benefit from discriminatory practices against my fellow citizens because I am white and they are not . . .

Until you can say that to yourself, or something like it, you are less than a coward. I mean, damn. Even a coward has the courage to admit he's afraid. (Oo! There goes my flair for writing! Love that line.)

So anyway, I just saw the movie Freedom Writers. And it struck me personally for a number of reasons. Not the least of which that this woman unexpectedly found her calling. Plus, what she and her class did encompass all of my best and worst qualities. Never settling for "not going to happen." Challenging and questioning the system. Writing.

And the funny thing about me and writing is that I haven't read a fiction novel since the first semester of my first year in college. So, literally not since 2000. But writing is what I do. It's one of the innumerable things I am. I wake up in the morning, put myself to sleep, usually keep myself up - writing.

Teaching and inspiring is something else I do. When you get me in front of a group of people to talk, it's magic. And the funny thing is, I can convince people of things I don't necessarily believe myself. Things I'm saying just to convince myself!

But, when it comes to issues I'm passionate about - history, education, social empowerment, justice, spiritual salvation - I can move people by the sheer force of my own passion. My own desire for what's right.

I mean. It's not like I close my eyes and really see myself with the courage of a Miep Gies or Ida B Wells or Ella Baker. I just know from my own experience, when push comes to shove, I. do. not. break. Oh, I'll let you win the battles I don't care about. And I do shy away from unnecessary confrontation. I mean. I'm not going to get into a big thing with my pastor about Original Sin when I know upfront I'm going to believe whatever I want to believe anyway regardless of what he says. And now that I think about it, perhaps my biggest problem with Original Sin is that I know in my spirit, there's just something about the need for "doctrine" that ain't quite up to snuff.

But I digress.

I am a woman who, as a child, did not shy away from challenging my parents when I thought they were wrong and I right. One who refused to cry even when being "spanked" with a belt (because my mother takes exception to my describing what occurred as "whooping"). One who would go to the well again, knowing what I could expect. So deep down, yeah. I'd be just the teacher on the forefront of challenging my department head, my principal, my school board. Everybody. Even in college, I told my history professor I thought one of the historians we were reading had mis-analyzed, if that's a word, a situation and gotten it wrong. She looked at me funny, the professor that is, looked at me funny and made one of those parental threats to call the historian. "I know her. I can call her." My response? "Good. Call'er."

But what really agitated me was that department head lady who refused to give Erin and the kids credit for anything. And that male teacher who said integration was a farce. Though, I disagree with the girl about speaking for the entire black community. Personally, I loved to speak from my experience and tell the truth, especially if it provoked some guilt. I'd be thrilled to be called on to give the "black perspective" if for no other reason than just to make sure my white classmates knew their lived experiences weren't shared Or even true. But I can be contrary like that. I don't know whether or not I would've chosen to go to a the Freedom Writer's class. If I knew upfront I was going to piss someone off, maybe.

But trust me. Just like our enslaved forebearers, we all still challenge the system in our own ways. Victoria's strategy no better or worse than my own.

Anyway. What I saw in that department head lady and that male teacher is the same thing I see and read and hear from so many white people today: the desperate fight to maintain the status quo.

Don't get it twitted (my creative lisensed "twisted," nothing to do with "twitter"). The majority of white Americans voted for John McCain. And as for the rest, those white Americans and other non-blacks who voted for Barack Obama, did they really have any other viable choice? So, from where I'm sitting . . . but I digress.

It's not just white people who fight to maintain the status quo. It's men. It's bankers. It's the wealthy. It's anyone who benefits from the status quo and if you are one of those people who benefit or are content with the status quo I ask you I implore you to ask yourself do you really benefit? Are you really content?

Don't be a coward.

Scott. He wasn't really content, but he wasn't willing to fight for what he wanted.

Me? It hasn't been a question of whether or not I'd fight. My struggle has been deciding just how to fight. I'm loathed to become a teacher for several reasons that don't need discussion here.

But I am a fighter.

I guess my question is, for you my reader, and even for me on those days when I become so tired, my question is - are you?

Febuary: Black History Month

Here's what I have to say about Black History Month: Carter G Woodson had a great idea several decades ago. And in the absence of a more inclusive national history, Black History Month remains pivotal. We celebrate "white" history all 12 months, so anyone complaining that there's no White History Month needs to catch a clue. Now, I believe it is important to note that much of black history involves white people, just as much of "white" history involves black people. So, there is some inherent danger in the separate notion of "black" history to the extent that it can engender the idea that black people suffered at the hands of some mysterious force and not the white people with whom they share citizenship and/or this country. But, again, in the absence of a more comprehensive history, I think it necessary to take the risk. Also, I would like to be part of a movement that has the teaching of a more comprehensive history in our schools as its goal. In fact, let me look into that and get back to you. Since I celebrate and discuss black history all year no matter the month, that's about all I'll be saying in regards to Black History Month. Anything else will be along these same lines.

Now. In other news, I just saw Lauren's kids yesterday. They're doing okay. They are scary smart. And I mean that seriously. I saw some of the work they produced in daycare and was frightened. I'm waiting for one of them to explain e=mc2 to me. The youngest, who I'll call Babygirl, sneezed in my face. Luckily, I'm pretty sure that was a regular, "clearing the system" sneeze and not a flu sneeze. The middle child, who I'll call Sasha cause I think both she and the youngest Obama daughter are clowns, did a lot of laughing and giggling. The oldest, who I'll call Smart Pants, insisted on answering "Lauren" when I asked her what my name was. Her older cousins kept telling her "No1KState," so I'm pretty sure Smart Pants kept saying "Lauren" just to be funny. I asked her, "Why are you messing with me?" She just smiled.

And me? I'm good. One of my great-aunts is making me some yum-yums! It's a baked desert with pecans. I'm not a cook, so that's all I can tell you about it. The interesting thing, though, is that she's my maternal grandmother's sister. (Well, this particular great aunt. I have several.) And it occurred to me that while my grandmother had four daughters (Living at least. We know she and Grandpa had a child before they got married who died as a baby or was stillborn. We thought it was a boy, but I saw some other info that it may have been a girl.), only one of them had a daughter by birth - and that daughter of a daughter is me. If we were Amerindians, it would be my son who would become chief. Plus, I don't know, every time I think about that, I feel some added pressure to make good on my grandmother's genes. You know? There is another daughter of a daughter, but she was adopted. And I'm the older of the two of us, anyway. But don't get it twisted, I love her like a sister. Hurt her and I'll cut you.

Lastly, let me thank my new readers. I'll do my best to give you accurate info with some great thinking behind it.

What a Day!!

Update: If you caught Rev. Eugene Rivers on Hardball with Chris Matthews, before you jump on the "black folks need to get it together" bus, let me assure you he don't know what the . . . eh hmm . . . he doesn't know what he's talking about.

Even I feel like an American. For the first time in a long time, maybe since the 3rd grade, I actually feel like I'm a part of this country.

This made me laugh! Amen, Rev. Lowry, Amen!

This? This was just beautiful! W, you ain't got to go home . . .


And this because I think it's funny!!

The Colbert ReportMon - Thurs 11:30pm / 10:30c

Tribute to the Bush Administration - Christine Ebersole

A Sunday Kind of Love

I hadn't heard that song until it came out on a commercial about jeans. But then, I listened to it online and fell in love with it. It expresses what many women, and even men, dare I say, feel. That includes me.

Of course, in today's world, many people wonder if that's still possible. Young adults are coming through some "hook up" phase and apparently never building the social skills that undergird a successful relationship. I haven't built those skills, either. Not because I was involved in "hooking up," but because I resisted "hooking up." Only recently have I even realized that other people see as attractive as I see myself. And, coincidentally, it's only recently that I've really turned any substantial attention to the possibility of being in a relationship. Not "hooking up," but an honest relationship.

I'm old enough now to really consider marriage. The way I see it, sex can wait for marriage. I'm a Christian and make no bones about the fact that true love waits.

What's more is I know what I want in a spouse. I have a pretty good idea of what I need in a spouse. Getting to know people, I feel, is great. But here's my point, I'm personally not interested in purposeless relationships. I'm interested in what's been called "courtship." We spend time getting to know each other to know if God has plans for us to be marriage. We don't just "date" to learn how we feel about each other. You can have any number of very close relationships without any leading to marriage. And . . . well, we'll save my thoughts about marriage for another post. Suffice it to say here that I feel that both spouses in a marriage should be equally fulfilled.

My point now is that I'm not sure I have either the patience or health for some of the little "games" you're supposed to play. For example, the "chase." Let me put it simply - I do not have enough energy to run. But as far as I'm concerned, that's okay. I'm high maintenance. Just because I'm upfront about how I feel and may pre-empt the "chase," doesn't mean there still isn't some work to be done.

I mean, in my little part of the world, I roll with the big wigs. Can you handle that? Or will you shrink in the spot light? And I don't plan to be limited to my little part of the world forever. My intentions are to obtain an MDiv, MBA with a concentration in nonprofit management or community organization, and eventually a PhD in history. Can you handle that? Or will you one day complain about my use of multi-syllabic words? And I don't have time or energy to worry about "meeting your needs" all the time. So what's your relationship with the Lord? I want your faithfulness to be based on your commitment to please God, not whether or not I've pleased you in the last week or so. Can you handle that? Cause you can best be believing, once will be forgiven but twice and I'll be leaving.

I plan to change the world. You? Or are you satisfied with the world as is? Maybe you're not particularly satisfied, but you're willing to leave the heavy lifting to starry-eyed idealists and radicalists like me?

And, oh! You know what really impressed me so about one guy that I spilled the beans about liking him before he said a word about liking me? He rejected the notion of assimilation. So, I'm going to need you to reject assimilation, too.

Because I also believe marriage should be a joint venture to some degree. I mean, it does depend on how much and if the two plan on impacting the world. But, there's a quote by Correta Scott King that I can't quite remember, but has something to do with being a partner with Martin in what she knew would be his future. Now, I disagree with her to some extent on whether or not it's permissible for black people to request segregation. I know I've had some strong feelings about having my fill of white people. In fact, I'm actually on tape, if it was never erased, stating my feelings that after 8 hours of mainstream culture and being the only black person in the class, or the only one of a very few, the last thing I wanted was to have to be around more white people. A bi-racial friend of mine, well, up until this point, told me about the reaction to my comments; she laughed and said I had given all the wrong answers. But I told my mentor professor about it, and she agreed with me. The feeling is that though attending a majority white college, I wasn't there to enrich the experience of the white students. I wasn't my duty to make sure the white students had a "multicultural" experience, but the duty of white students to avail themselves of the multicultural events held on campus.

I mean, these spoiled brats complained about feeling "unwanted" after spending 5 minutes in the Black Cultural Center. Big deal! I have to be around you all the time.

But I digress. Marriage. It's kinda like with my brother. There was never any doubt he was going to be a minister and perhaps even the executive pastor of a church one day. His wife would have to be a "minister's wife." That's what knocked one of his exes out of the game. Although she was willing to do whatever it took to be a good wife to Big Head, or at least that's what she told me when I asked her, she wouldn't make a good minister's wife if her life depended on it. Not even in an Episcopalian church, and we're southern Black baptists. The girl who's now my sister-in-law grew up with a pastor for a father.

Don't get me wrong. They're not together just because of that. There is . . . let's just say I couldn't stand being around them the first few months before and after the wedding. Too much . . . affection.

So, basically, there's where I'm at in the scheme of things as it concerns relationships. Now, why am I writing about this? :sigh: Well. I honestly spent high school and college in the social wilderness. I really wasn't open to the potential of a relationship. I also had to face the fact that even should I be interested in someone, at some point, my fear of emotional intimacy would eventually ruin the relationship anyway.

Now, I'm open to relationship, but can be as excited about it as a kid on Christmas. The whole thing would be new ground to some extent for me. I don't want to leave the impression that I've never had a boyfriend. Just that those relationships only lasted as long as they were superficial and interesting. So, you can see how I subconsciously doomed relationships from the beginning. And now, with my health, I can hardly had my giddiness at the prospects of a new adventure and someone to hang out with on a Saturday or Sunday afternoon. But, I going to want to know upfront exactly what I'm getting myself into. If you only have time to talk two days a week, tell me upfront. Don't let days go by without communication then act like I'm the idiot for having expected a message, an email, something! And if you're not ready for a purposeful relationship, say that upfront, too. Don't try to hide behind needing to be friends. And if you're not interested, say that! I'm a big girl and I got plenty of friends. Don't try to run some, "we need to be friends first," game on me to avoid a more serious relationship. It's not as though I haven't used that line myself. It's also not as though I don't know if a man is really interested in a woman, he will make time to talk. Even if it's just long enough to say, "Hello. Can't talk long. Just wanted to say, 'Hi.'"

Because me? I want a Sunday kind of love.

My Two Soldiers

Blagojevich smalojevich. Barack Obama has had nothing to do with this pay-for-play scandal. Whatever Blago had in mind, it's clear he knew that bleeping Obama was only interested in giving him bleeping appreciation.

And to the US Senate Republicans: come of it! Stop hating on the UAW. The labor union isn't the problem. US auto companies haven't been making cars people want to buy. When I buy a car, I don't even have intentions of buying from the US auto industry. So, if you wanna clear out the ranks of upper-level, executive management, please do. But leave the union alone. Cause the way I see it, you're coming up against to philosophical contradictions. One is that the cost of workers in the North is too high, especially do to healthcare cost. One way to get rid of the healthcare cost burden on employers would be some sort-of "socialized medicine" via national medicaid/medicare for all, some sort-of single payer system. At the very least, we got to get rid of the system we have know: healthcare for profit. Sorry. People's lives shouldn't depend on insurance companies' bottom lines. And some form of "socialized medicine" will help cut costs for American business - and that's important to you, right?

The other contradiction you're up against is this notion of the free-market. The way I've understood it, in a free market, labor is a form of capital. Why are you so willing to help one side of the free market, business, but not the other, labor? In a truly free market, labor is allowed to make the same self-interested decisions that business is allowed to make. So, in the end, quit hating on a system you purport to support.

Now that I've expressed my feelings about that, I'm moving on. The Republicans are idiots. They're being obnoxious to block the American auto bail-out, or rather, bridge loan. And they're being especially obnoxious to demand Obama come clean about any contact and talk he or his staff or any emissary may have had with Blagojevish. I repeat: if we know nothing else, we do know that Blagojevich was angry that Obama wouldn't play game with him. Doesn't that clear Obama? Quit trying to paint him with Illinois corruption and call me when the Cubs win the Series, or the Bulls win the Finals. I have bigger fish to fry.

My cousin and her husband are due to be ship out to Afghanistan in early January. Hence, my title. And, quite frankly, I'm conflicted about the situation. I understand we need to finish the job in Afghanistan's, and I'm pissed that lame-a, er, -duck Bush didn't do so in the beginning. And the latest reports are that Afghans aren't do any better than they were before. For some, especially women, the situation has become worse. Just a few months ago, I watched part of a special about Afghan women setting themselves on fire as acts of rebellion against someone, be it an abusive husband or an abusive mother-in-law. (I don't know whether or not they had access to guns. But I do know that women aren't likely to use guns to commit suicide. And, I suppose, watching "your" woman burn to death at her decision can stick in the craw of the men who claim control of them.) I only watched part of the special because my stomach couldn't take it. Many of these women were unsuccessful at the quick suicide they intended and eventually died slow, painful deaths. They lived long enough to tell their story, so I guess that's something to support. But watching these talking faces with charred skin and lips noses burned off was more than I can take. Don't get me wrong. When it comes to the crime dramas I love so much, I can stomach stuff like that. I know it's fake. But when it's real, it causes not just my stomach to ache, but my heart as well.

So, part of me understands we may need the military to stabilize the situation enough so that, I would hope, we could send in more nonmilitary aid. But I hate that my cousin and her husband's lives are at risk. Now, I must confess, my cousin, who I'll call Lauren, and I aren't that close. I haven't really spoken to her in almost a year. But she's my cousin, and I love her. And I think she was dumb to have joined the army in the first place. I mean. First of all, I don't believe the myth that for this country is all that honorable. I mean, for me, it kinda depends on the war. I don't know. I just don't think America is worth my life. It's kind of hard to explain, so I'll leave it for a later post. Suffice it to say I think dying for America means you've died to maintain a system that cause more harm than good. And, I just can't accept the notion of dying for America in the face of having committed my life to Christ. I and anyone else who professes to be a Christian is supposed to be seeking God's kingdom and righteousness, and I just don't think America represents either one.

Plus, all the military deaths I can think of post-WWII haven't been for "freedom." They've been for oil or just maintaining control of the world. All this hype about winning the Cold War without bloodshed is just that - hype. Hundreds of thousands have died in the "Cold" War between Russia and America. Don't get me wrong, it's a good thing the situation never came to a war of nuclear weapons, but really. Do you really think someone would've turned America into a communist nation against our will? If you do, it's no wonder you think Al Qeada or any other terrorist organization could turn us into a Muslim country against our will. Or that the immigrants from south of the border will suddenly turn us into a Spanish-speaking 3rd world country. You're delusional.

Did I mention I'm actually angry at Lauren for having joined the Army in the first place? That's why I'm a bit conflicted about her and her husband, who I'll call Jamie, being called to Afghanistan. That's a choice they made as much as a mess BushCo. created. Now, from what I understand, the army was a way out for him. But her? She just initially joined the National Guard for the grad school money. It's not like she couldn't have earned scholarships or my aunt and uncle couldn't have chipped in. In fact, another aunt of ours said they would've gone door to door raising money for my cousin to go to school. For generations, our family has supported education, starting with my great-grandfather who opened a school.

And here's what really bothers me. Lauren and Jamie have three children. Three. One child should be two-years-old by now. Another turns three after Christmas. The oldest turns four in February. So, with 12-16 month tours, my cousin and her husband are going to miss the birthdays of their children, and the missing starts right away.

And what happens if Lauren and Jamie die? I know all of my family will do whatever we can to take care of the children. In fact, that's not even anything I personally have to worry about. But it's something the children will have to deal with. One memory I have of the oldest when she wasn't quite one is of her picking up telephones and remote controls and saying into them, "Elno. Doing!" as though she were expecting Lauren on the other end. And I can hear my cousin always answering the phone, "Hello? How you doing?" I'm not sure the children are old enough to understand death. In my mind, I can only imagine how long they'll expect their parents to be on the other side of a ringing phone or opening door.

Then again, what happens if Lauren and Jamie both survive? We know that post-traumatic stress disorder is under-reported and undertreated. Are they going to be the same parents the children remember?

I'm just conflicted about this whole thing.

And to top it off, cause I feel it needs to be, bin Laden has lived to see his nefarious plan come to fruition. At this point, over 4200 American soldiers have died in Iraq alone. That's more than the number of people who died in the 9/11/01 attacks. 540 Americans have died in Afghanistan. I haven't even started on the number of dead, injured, or displaced Iraqi and Afghan civilians. The total is well over 2 million. Closer to 3 million I would venture to guess. And for what? Are we really any safer? Isn't Obama still sending out messages? And last I heard, this whole Gitmo/torture/rendition method has been working against us; and, according to someone who's talked to foreign insurgents in Iraq, there's an untold number of American deaths due to US torture of so-called enemy combatants.

And now, the Mumbai attacks.

What of my cousin? What of her husband? What of their children? What of them and other families like them. Has this venture really been worth it? If you think it has, you're either delusional or evil. Maybe both.

My Evolution II

Well . . . since I spent yesterday describing my evolution, I suppose I need to explain how I got through the really tough times. I mean, the nights when I couldn't sleep but knew I need to avoid the kitchen because there were knives there, I had to really call on Jesus.

That's the truth. That's why I just can't for the life of me imagine renouncing or converting from my Christian faith.

Now, let me say I did avail myself of counseling/therapy. If you feel you need to talk, but don't have think you can afford it, you probably can. Do some calling around and there is probably a mental health facility in your county that provides services that, depending on your situation, can range from free to your insurance co-pay with no upfront cost.

Then there're a few scriptures that helped me out, too.

When graduation came and I had no plans, hadn't applied to grad school or for any job, hadn't even taken the GRE, Jeremiah 29: 11 "For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future (NIV)." Now, I place emphasis on what really spoke to me at the time I needed it. The fact that God knew the plans he had for me meant that . . . I didn't have to know. What's said in the Black Church is usually, "I don't know what tomorrow holds, but I know who holds tomorrow." Eh . . . that didn't quite do it for me at the time. I was freaking No1KState and I was supposed to have plans. I was supposed to be on my way to a PhD. Not knowing what "tomorrow held" just "won't getting it."

But one day, I was reading that verse expecting "plans to prosper" to soothe my anxiety. It didn't. But every time I read through, "I know the plans I have for you," my spirit calmed. And that finally did it for me. I knew I had to quit fighting God on the issue and just let him have his way (By the by, Hezekiah Walker has a song that says exactly that. I listened to it endlessly. Can't find it online, but I'll keep looking.). I had to, as David says in Psalms 131, stop worrying about things I had no control over, and just trust God like a child trusts her mother (I paraphrased.) And honestly, that kept me from . . . Let's just say it kept me. (There's a song with those lyrics, too, by the way.)

Then, as far as finally receiving God's love for me, well, the involves all of the book of Ephesians as well as some other New Testament passages, and most especially a book by Robert McGee titled, The Search for Significance. I strongly suggest you read the book yourself and get the workbook, too. I most confess, the college staff member of The Impact Movement who was assigned to UNC gave a group of us all the book with workbook for free my second year. I was so full of myself then, I really didn't pay it much attention. I "graciously" went through it with the rest of the group because really . . . I'm No1KState. I felt I was the very definition of "being significant."

Er . . . uh . . . yeah. That kind of pride will lead to a bit of a battle with God. Hence, perhaps, the whole episode prior to graduation of not having any plans.

It was till just a few years ago that I read the book seriously. To say it changed my life would not be an overstatement. It helped me open myself and my heart to love. It helped me reject the lies I had believed about myself. Oh, I'm still working on trusting God with my heart. But, I used to respond to the staff member, who is now I dear, dear friend, saying "I love you," with a disbelieving shake of my head. She would tell me how I was such a sweetheart, and I would respond that she really didn't know me. She would argue that she thought she did, and I'd just let her win. I didn't see the point in a needless argument with someone who didn't know me.

Now, I can say, "I love you," first. This morning even, I told my parents I loved them. That's a big deal for me! I mean, it's not that I didn't love people the way Christians are supposed to love everyone, I just didn't hold anyone in any special affection.

Except my little cousin who's my "little sister."

That's part of what I love so much about my church family Palmer Grove. You know what, this is my blog, I'll tell you exactly what happened. I heard a woman call out my name, I just smiled and waved in the direction of the voice. Then Minister Thurman grabbed my shoulder and asked if I knew who she was. I didn't. She explained who she was and how she knew me, and that's when I realized that there were people who held me in special affection . . . just for me! Granted, folks were always impressed and sometimes proud of my accomplishments. But, it wasn't till that moment that I realized she was showing affection to me, not because of my family connections or accomplishments, but because of me. I mean, lots of people were greeting me because I had just joined the church. But the look on her face when I confessed I didn't know who she was (because I previously didn't care - she doesn't know that), let me know she was interested in me. Me. Not No1KState. Not the lead soprano or trumpet player or the basketball player or the genius. Me.

And guess what? Me, myself and I am sweet. I am a sweetheart. A number of people, strangers, have told me I have a beautiful spirit. At a group of young adults meeting together to minister to each other, a woman just all of a sudden hugged me tight and kissed my head. Once, a visitor at church pulled me aside and said he just wanted to speak because I had such a beautiful spirit. Apparently, that means just in my presence, people feel loved. That's what the strange hugging lady explained to me.

That's the truth. That's my truth. If I've accepted you as a part of my "circle," I do love you; and, I love you strongly and unconditionally. That has always been the case. I have always been willing to fight on behalf of my family, even if that meant I'd get beat up. And excepting God's love for me has made loving others all the more easier.

I'll end with this verse: Zechariah 11: 4 "This is what the LORD my God says: "Pasture the flock marked for slaughter. 5 Their buyers slaughter them and go unpunished. Those who sell them say, 'Praise the LORD, I am rich!' Their own shepherds do not spare them. 6 For I will no longer have pity on the people of the land," declares the LORD. "I will hand everyone over to his neighbor and his king. They will oppress the land, and I will not rescue them from their hands." 7 So I pastured the flock marked for slaughter, particularly the oppressed of the flock."

Yeah, few people actually get to the part of the Bible. (I'll save my thoughts about Evangelicals and Fundamentalists for another post.) But, that's what inspires and prompts my quest to change the world, to fight racism, sexism, capitalism, and other oppressions. And now that I'm broadening my horizons to international issues, nationalism. At first, it was just American nationalism that bothered me, but now that I've learned about Turkey - I'm taking that on, too.

So, basically, I'm still celebrating turning 27. It's my own tradition to celebrate my birthday for at least a couple of weeks. Especially since my brother thought I was his early birthday present, I take the liberty of extending my own celebration past his. I'm not sure I'll be blogging about my personal growth again for a day or so, but. :sigh: My next posts will probably be about some political or international issue. It's just that, I'm so proud of myself for how far I've come. I'm thrilled that I'm finally receiving sufficient treatment for my CFIDS. I can hardly contain myself. I mean, of course, I have to. My health can't take a lot of hoopla, no matter the cause. But, I'm just excited about another day and another year.

Listen. Life is an adventure. I'm on this adventure with Elohim, another name for God, which, by the way, is Hebrew feminine plural, and a couple of other friends. I'm finally living life to the full and I love it! I wish you the same peace, contentment, and anticipation I have!

My Evolution

Today's my birthday. I'm 27 today.

Yeah. I know 27 isn't a special birthday. It's not like I'm getting my driver license or anything. And, I'm not going crazy like my closest friend did last year when she cried, "Now, I'm just 3 years from 30!"

Actually, I'm looking forward to my 30s.

But for now, I'm 27. Not that 26 wasn't good. It was. But, this birthday is special to me. Even now, I can feel eyes watering. It's because of how far I've come since . . . ever.

You know. Usually, when I give my personal testimony, I recall how I couldn't believe Jesus loved me so much that he became a baby just for me. And the fact that he came back to life with Papa Smurf's help did it for me. I was sold! It was gonna be me and Jesus for life.

I was 4 when I accepted Christ. And don't worry. If I didn't know what I was doing then, and I did, I certainly do now. Nothing's changed about that testimony. That God would put on flesh and limitations of humanity just to pay for my sins still sends shivers down my spine, and that he was cruxicified and arose without a defibilator still blows me mind. I'm still sold. It's still me and Jesus for life.

But, I've never told anyone the entire truth of why accepted Christ. It wasn't that I didn't know anyone who loved me more. I didn't think I knew anyone who loved me. Yeah. Odd for a four year-old, and my mother would hate to hear that, but that's how I felt.

I used to have a hard time accepting or believing anyone loved me. Unconditionally, I mean. Even through my teens. You don't know my family, and this would make more sense. My mom is a local politician and has a lot of influence in the black community. My grandparents' and uncle owned their own business. I was a star student and basketball player. So, when people smiled and hugged me or shook my hand, I always thought it had more to do with mom than me. Or because my grades or basketball play impressed them. Even when older women would comment to my mom how pretty I was, I didn't pay that much attention. I thought that was more a compliment for my mom than for me; everyone swore how much I looked like her. And boys, well . . . let's say I was aiming for an academic scholarship and I wasn't interested in high school sex. I mean really. Having sex with someone who walked around with his pants hanging off his hips and couldn't remember to bring paper and pencil to school? Yeah, um, no.

College wasn't much different. Of hundreds of classmates, I only managed to remember close to 60 or 70 or their names, and most of that was due to some nudging. So, I really didn't care much for other people. Only a few people really stuck.

Oh. And that was just school. I was star in religious circles, too. Not a bad singer. Pretty good speaker (when I wasn't full of myself at the time).

But now, and granted it's took sometime, I actually believe people love me for me. And I can actually love them back. Nothing's changed in the way my family demonstrates affections, but I even believe my mom loves me. That wasn't always the case.

So, now that melodrama's been explained, there's actually more.

I know who I am now. Growing up, there were some lies I believed about myself. One was that I had a mean streak. That was punctuated by the fact that I could successfully discipline a youth choir of 15 kids without much hometraining. But now, I know who I am. I like sports, but I'm not gay. I can be quite prissy actually. But, going through life believing the worst about yourself just isn't a way to live. . . . Unless it's true, then, it's time for some self-examination I'd say.

And I know what I want from life. I know who I want in life. I don't wake up every morning hoping to die because the pain and exhaustion of chronic fatigue and immune dysfunction is so disorienting.

The best part is that I'm not afraid of the future any more. I'm not absolutely sure what the future holds for me, but I'm not afraid to meet it.

And here is where I digress a bit for the purpose of making a point. Contrary to what evangelicals and fundamentalists believe, not all lives are worth living. Terry Shiavo's husband was doing the right thing. Her parents didn't care about her. They just wanted to have their need for her presense met. Waking up hurting places you didn't realize you had isn't a way to live. So, let your loved ones go. Don't make them suffer for your own selfish reasons.

Back to me. I have been suicidal. It started during adolesenses. Part of the reason I spent over half my life thinking my mother didn't love me isn't just that she didn't say it; it's because she was always fussing at me about something. And there seemed to be nothing I could do that she wouldn't critique. And parents, that's not a way for your kids to live, either. What I didn't know was how she bragged about me to other people, including my brother. He and I both thought the other was the favorite child - parents, don't do that to your kids. Everything doesn't have to be perfect. Don't get me wrong. My mom didn't miss a basketball game. Even if all she talked about on the way home was how I didn't hold my follow through long enough.

But I've put all that behind me. I'm responsible for what I feel and think about myself. And, I'm taking God's word for it that I'm the apple of God's eye.

So, basically. Since life has no more meaning that what you're able to put into it, and I know that, I'm not afraid of the future. I know I have plenty to put into life. And know I have definite plans. In college, it killed me that I didn't have a clue as to what I'd be doing after graduation. Plus, I was sick and didn't know. Think it's bad having a doctor tell you there's nothing left for them to do and you only have a few months to live. Try just turning 22 and have a doctor look you in the eyes and say, "I know something's wrong. I just don't know what." My world crashed. I could hear and see my life shattering like broken glass. Like I had been in a head on without a seat belt, but not dead. I wish I could say no pain . . . but well, unbeknownst to me and the doctor, I had CFIDS.

Now, treatments are getting better. I finally have enough pain medicine, none of which is narcotic - but if you got an extra vicodine or something from oral surgery . . . Ha ha ha! I'm just kidding.

Not really. So, I was afraid of a future that virtually had little to nothing to offer. But now, I'm 27. I'm not as afraid to share my heart as I was just a few months ago. I don't know exactly what I'll be doing the next few years, but you can believe the world will change as far I can reach it.

I've come a long way in what's really a short time. I'm 27. And I'm making my life happen.

This One's Painful: Guess Someone Couldn't Share the Spotlight

My heart goes out to Jennifer Hudson and her family. I hope the nephew will be found safe and alive. Cause this is just ridiculous! On a number of levels.

First of all, black community, we can't on one had complain that not enough of the ones who make it come back and then also terrorize them and murder them when they do. Now, I know the same thing probably goes on in the white community, except, they're celebrated for moving to Hollywood and staying. But, come on people. Please.

Second of all, black folks who make it out . . . stay out! This is what happens when you come back home. Those negros who were already jealous to begin with are really gonna let you have it. Luckily, I can come back home. I didn't grow up in a "rough area," and I have to hand it to my local black community - we handle our business (That's a shout out to Ms. Bradshaw and all the black bus drivers who were illegally fired while a white . . . I just blog about that later. Oh, and Mrs. Degree and Mrs. Accor and Mr. Hooker. Pastors Smith, Thompson, Littlejohn. And, of course, my big brother and little sister-in-law. And, and I better mention my momma cause I there's this car I want. And even the people who used to tease me in school now recognize the importance of spiritual and political engagement.).

But, I guess Hudson's tragedy is especially saddening because, I don't know, I identified with Effie White. I identify with a down home black sister who's just trying to make good. And I can't imagine a world without my momma and my brother. And just recently, some good friends have had their grandmother and greataunt pass. My little cousin's mother's funeral was just this past week. And, I guess, I'm still in a mournful mood.

I told one friend of mine that it was okay that even maybe two weeks after her grandmother's passing, that she still missed her and her heart still ached. It's part of the human experience. It took a while for me to adjust to my grandmother's passing. Now, I see her in my dreams . . . and she usually has a date. I don't get that. But, anyway.

I wouldn't know what to tell Jennifer. This is one of those times when, "Hold on to God's unchanging hand," won't do. My grandmother and my friend's grandmother died because they were sick. They didn't die because someone murdered them. Now, I do know that God's grace is sufficient - sufficient enough for her to be really pissed off at him if that helps her grieve. I also know that God can piece back together a broken heart. And if you need to be angry with God or scream or cry or yell, it's okay.

I'm not going to say, "It's going to be all right." The first person really close to me who died was my grandfather. I was thirteen. And I distinctly remember fighting the urge to punch someone in the face for telling me, "It's going to be all right." Excuse my language, but who the hell cares about what's going to be. If you wanna make it all right right now, how about you bring my grandpa back? How about that? If you can't do that, then you need to shut your dang pie-hole. "It's going to be all right." All right, hell. Oh yeah, the next person who told me that was gonna catch an unholy "rhetorical flourish."

But I will say, the sun will rise and it will set, and another day will pass, and another, and another, and in one of those days, somebody better get that nephew back to the family. Don't play no "ransom" shit. You've done enough. We get your point. You can't come from "da hood," do well, and expect to stay like nothing ever changed. No matter how homeopathic it is for you or how much you wanna help your people. Yeah. You're the ones who make the rest of us look bad because ignorant crackas judge all of us by your nigger-acting black ass. So, yeah, thanks.

Oh, wipe the drool of your face. I said I'm a Christian. I never claimed to be a saint.

But back to my condolenses to the Hudson family, you'll always miss your mom and brother. You'll always love them. Right now you still can't believe it, and that's okay. The pain is overwhelming and that's okay, too. Whatever you feel, it's okay. God's grace is sufficient, and it's okay.

You're listening to some songs I chose to go out to the family. Now, at black funerals in my area, we have a good time, so I added some hallelujah gospel songs as well Hudson's songs.

Oh, and by the way, Palin's lied about some dirt she's done about the whole Alaskan pipeline.

And UNC beat Boston College. The Hudsons aside, that does make me feel better.

These Are My Confessions

Updated - I changed "white atheist" to "Republican Christian" and "black Muslim" to "Democrat Muslim."
. . . with apologies, of course, to Usher Raymond.

There are a few. Like, I should actually be in bed now if not asleep. I have a head cold on top of the usual CFIDS, and I have to get up in the morning to be sure to make it to Wednesday morning Bible study, in part because I love Bible study at my church, but mostly because I gave my word to my pastor. And I want him to know my word is bond.

Here's another one. There's a guy a like who I might run off because I'm afraid I'll run him off because I haven't been in an adult relationship ever. If you actually saw me, you'd think that were impossible. But if you actually knew me, you'd see how that could happen. And my mom and brother think it's funny that he wants to own a . . . spa. That doesn't sound as bad as the word originally used that my family thinks is funny. And I'm not even sure how he feels about me yet, or for that matter, how I really feel about him. (Though, I do want to change my relationship status on my networking sites.)

But here's my real confession. I'm a Christian. Yes, yes. With my support for contraception and even "abortion on demand" (I'm not telling anyone to have a kid I have no intentions of helping her raise.); and my support of gay rights and even same-sex marriage - or something legally equal to it; and my belief in evolution, or at least some form, I. am. a. Christian.

Born and raised in a Baptist church. My grandfather baptized me. Oh, don't worry God-haters, I've gone to college. I've had my doubts. I have none presently, but on occasion I do, and something unexplainable just won't let me go.

I've heard all my life how important it is to vote for someone who's Christian who shares my Christian values. Now, being that I'm black, that has usually meant concern for racial and economic justice, truth and honest in politics, so forth and so on, but not necessarily, if at all, anti-abortion and gay rights. Black folks have enough on our minds before we start actually considering voting on personal issues like that. You lucky white person you.

You know how the best response to accusations that Obama is a Muslim is to say, "First of all, he's not. Second of all, so what if he were?" Well, honestly, I do have a mild problem if he were. That's my confession. I'd have a much easier time voting for a Republican Christian than a Democrat Muslim.

That's not to say I wouldn't vote for that black Muslim or any Muslim. And, I guess, here's my basic point, there are some things some of us Americans are dealing with that are so deep and unconscious that they don't come up without prodding. Racism, for example. Granted, doesn't take much prodding, but you get my point.

Here's the thing. Whatever you were taught as a child, that's over. You can't keep blaming your parents or even society for your willful ignorance and prejudice. Just like I can't blame my upbringing for the anxiety I feel voting for a random Muslim or in this fledgling relationship.

I'm an adult. I'm my own person. I make my own choices and decisions, good or bad, which accounts for why I'm still up long after I should actually be in bed . . . if not asleep. And if there's something inside of you that won't let you vote for a colored/negro/black/African-American, you have to make a decision to vote based on principles, policy, etc and not race. And. You can do it. You mush. Otherwise, and here's where I can release some pent-up cynicism, you're a racist.

So, that's my little piece of sincerity today.

This Time, I'm Adding My View

The ladies were at it again. I meant to actually get up and watch, but I overslept.

Here's the thing. McCain is losing. So he and his supporters, including Elizabeth Hasselbeck, are resorting to smear, fear, and racist tactics. Neither of them, and no one else I know, has completely "all-America" association. So this whole thing is completely repulsive. They claim Obama isn't being "completely honest." But what more does the electorate need to know? And what difference does it make anyway?

Hasselbeck is also accusing the Rev. Dr. Jeremiah Wright, Jr of hating his country. Even though he voluntarily joined the marines during Vietnam. She's basically jumping from his finding fault with the country to him hating the country. And let's just be clear. There are plenty of faults to found with America, even discluding racism.

And for the record, as a black person, probably an overwhelming majority of us have mixed feelings about this country. We can look past the faults of this country, especially it's anti-black bias, to get to the affectionate "love" most conservatives think everyone should be. What's more, the overwhelming majority of us are adults. We understand that a country, even the one of our citizenship, isn't something to be "loved."

Also, I have to deal with this right-wing lie that the Democrats are at fault for our economic crisis. Let's get one thing straight. Our country's economic decisions have been made for the past 8 years or more from a conservative standpoint. Supply-side, lower taxes, deregulation, that's what has gotten us into the trouble we're in now. No one forced banks to do millions of "sub-prime" lending, aimed primarily at people of color. What Democrats and African Americans wanted was an end to the red-lining that was keeping African Americans from getting loans that rightly qualified for.

And once you look at the numbers, millions of people of color were given sub-prime loans even though they qualified for prime loans. Which, I should point out, is why the overwhelming majority of African Americans don't "love" this country. "Whitey" screws everybody, us especially, and then turns and blames it on us black folk. It had right after the Civil War when crime dramatically increased in the South, and even though 90% of the crime was committed by whites, including ex-Confederate soldiers, somehow, the entire increase was blamed on recently freedmen and women. So, we're used to this song and dance, and it is why essays and articles that Barack Obama's meteoric rise proves the end of "black politics" and racism fall on . . . well, I wouldn't say deaf ears to the extent that we do hear what's being said. Perhaps uncaring ears because we know you're lying to yourself and just aren't willing to accept your lies for ourselves.

So, the system remains racist. And blaming black people and other racial minorities for this crisis when just about every CEO and COO and CFO of the failing companies are white is racist as well.

But anyway, voter. Be smart. Be wise. If this is all McCain has, then he doesn't have anything positive to say about himself. And also, take note that he makes these accusations at rallies, not at the debates. He preaches to the choir. He makes these comments where no one can respond.

And as far as the mandate on parents to place health care coverage on their children - parents will have government assistance available to them. This ain't about the parent. It's about the child.