Unbought and Unbossed

I love Halloween. Since I was a little kid back in Bed-Stuy when my grandma would take me trick or treating at the Brooklyn Children's Museum, onto high school when I dressed up as a member of the Black Panther Party. My favorite costume was during Halloween of sophomore year, when I went as Kwanzaa (Maulana Karenga would be so proud). This year I considered going as Shirley Chisholm, but I couldn't find a wig that would do her justice, then after brainstorming and trying to come up with another powerful black woman I thought of going as DebraLee. After quickly scratching that I finally decided on going as a lumberjack.

I would really like to ride with Ms. Lee. She is at the helm of a major media company, a post that is usually reserved for men. She's highly educated and clearly quite able. But I haven't been able to fully cosign on her. I think its because instead of exercising her considerable power within the company and making her voice heard in the upper echelons of Viacom she seems satisfied to just cash her checks. But perhaps I'm being too harsh, perhaps she is simply a cog within the well oiled machine that is Viacom. However, I think that that is too simple and takes away her agency and autonomy. At the end of the day, she is a capitalist and although she may well be disgusted with the misogynist and coontastic images on her network but she probably feels she has too much to loose if she takes a real stance and says enough and be unbought and unbossed like Sister Shirley before her. Look at what happened to Stan O'Neal of Merrill Lynch. At least he has his severance package to dry his tears.

admitting the problem

Last week during a meeting with my thesis adviser I shared with him my plan of escape from the US, a la W.E.B. On my shortlist are Trinidad, Brasil, Panama and Ghana. Perhaps Chris Rock was right, "America for black people is like the uncle who paid your way through college, but molested you." I couldn't agree more.
And in dealing with white racism on a daily basis, and with classmates in black studies course who think they're down or "race experts", by virtue of having read the trifecta - Souls of Black Folk, Native Son, and Their Eyes Were Watching God. I often loose faith in my Euro-American brothers and sisters. Will they ever admit that this nation is steeped in institutionalized, systemic, dehumanizing racism? Or will they, by and large continue to stammer on about - double standards (a phrase taken directly from a conversation with a white associate), reverse racism, the scourge of hip, Sharpton, and O.J?

But today, after reading a post from Alas, a blog!, called "Whites Need to Take Responsibility for Their Racism" I have a bit of hope once again. And hopefully, after reading, you'll be a believer once again as well. Perhaps I'll only have to be an ex-pat for 6 months out of the year.

panhandling for reparations

Performance artist daymali ayo took the streets of Portland and panhandled for reparations. Asking white folks for money, then writing them receipts, and finally handing it over to black passerby. I know homegirl was trying to make a point, but I'm not trying to post a block to beg for some change. How about some direct federal action instead
Recently at the College, students in "critical debates in Black Studies" were assigned a paper on this topic, writing whether they were pro or against. And as a Black Studies major this has been a point of intellectual contention since my freshman year.
Although I am pro-reparations, I remain very cynical about the movement and am pretty confident that it will never happen. Too many Euro-Americans insist that since 21st-century blacks weren't enslaved that they aren't owed anything. There are other problematics as well - what shape would it take? Is a check enough? And were do black immigrants fall? Would Caribbeans, Latin Americans and Africans get a piece as well?
Although I'm about to troll the A train for some contributions, it would be nice to have some funds to knock out these loans. Reparations, well implemented, could drastically improve to lives of millions of black Americans. But this investment into African America would take a social revolution, in which we as a nation really come to grips with our racial reality.
I'm not sure this will ever happen (but keep hope alive right?)
In the meantime, I'm planning for my escape from the states a la W.E.B DuBois. Trinidad is looking mighty good right now

go jeffs(!?)

Early Saturday morning I dragged my tired booty out of bed and searched my closet for any and all Amherst gear I could find. Turns out I have I only have the child-sized hoodie I got in freshman year (only $29), a pair of Amherst sweats and a tote. Its homecoming weekend, my last as an undergrad so I wanted to at least look like a proud Amherst kid.

As my friends and I walked over to the field talking about our chances of winning this year's game against Wesleyan and last year's defeat against Williams, I was already plotting my escape. I would slip out during halftime having paid my dues. But then a weird thing happened. I actually had fun.

No, I didn't really follow the game. I don't know much about football, don't care to, and our team has more of a shot of being drafted to work at Merrill Lynch than to the NFL. Nor do I know any of our fight songs. Hell, I didn't even know we had them, until some older alums (class of '55), invited us to sing along. But as I reconnected with old friends, tailgated and incessantly chanted "go Jeffs!", I realized that although my college and I have had a tempestuous relationship, we have some good times. Amherst and I are like Kimora and Russel Simmons - although they broke up, they still have an amicable relationship. And when I dip on out with my class cane and degree on hand on graduation day, officially breaking ties with AC, I hope to maintain a good relationship. At least for the kids (and by the kids, I mean underclassmen friends)

you say goodbye and I say hello

Kenna's new vid for his single "Say Goodbye to love" is definitely a banger. But more importantly the imagery represents the state of my mind right now, and I'm drug free. I might not be tripping on E, but I AM tripping over all my activities, duties and responsibilities. I chalk it up to being a college senior with more things on my plate than a waitress at a hip downtown restaurant. I hear things get fun again for seniors in April.
Let the countdown begin

oooo ladies first, ladies first

get into the groove

ladies first

That's the joint, that's the jam...

A Right to be Hostile

I sometimes joke that I went abroad to run away from Amherst. But the jokes on the folks who think I'm actually kidding. When January 2007 rolled around, I was as happy as could be that I would not be trekking back up to Western Massachusetts, but rather hopping a plane for London. And I would've done the entire year away if I didn't have major requirements to fulfill.

As I think back on my time at Amherst and navigate senior year, I wonder if it's been worth it. Did it have to be this hard? In a thesis meeting with my adviser, we bonded on our mutual rage against the College. While sharing our thoughts on the racist, elitist, sexist hierarchy of the College, I wondered tow things - is this a phenomenon particular to Amherst and would I have happier at an HBCU? To the former question, I am inclined to say no, because I have friends at schools as varied as Princeton, Brandeis and Dartmouth who have said and felt similar things about their schools. Which was why I gave up dreams of transferring in freshman year. And although I can't know for certain whether or not I would have been happier at an HBCU, I do know that I would not have to hear statements like "Somehow being black and having no logical ability are synonymous". Instead of being made to feel part of the Amherst community of thinkers, scholars and students I feel that I have had to spend too much time trying to prove my worth as a student and to fight for acceptance in the classroom.

I can't let this nappy diatribe (thanks J) go on too long though - I get a fine education at this place and have been afforded many opportunities since being here. But I still struggle with what it means to be an Amherst woman of color, with everything I've given up and everything I've gained. Yet, after all the angst, I still want my children to come here. If Charles Drew could survive this school virtually unscathed, then so can I.