What Else Is There To Say?

I'm sure you're just as inundated with news items coming out of Missouri as I am. Therefore I won't reiterate it here. All this news coverage and updates on social media is making me physically ill. It's 9-11 all over again, and that familiar knot has landed on my chest and won't leave. I suppose the fact that I've decided to stay and fight the good fight, in whatever form that means for me here in Brooklyn, will ease me a bit. Only time will tell. I dropped the ball after that asshole Zimmerman was set free. I won't ever forgive myself if I do it again.

In the meantime, if you, too, are looking for ways to do something- donate to those at ground zero in Ferguson, join local groups to enact change in the laws or in how police are allowed to treat citizens- let me know either in the comments or via email.

(Just a bit of comic relief because LORD KNOWS we need it!)


This isn't a Black thing, it's a human thing, and I'm not going to tell you what to do, but don't wait until the "police" bang down your door and harm your loved ones unjustly before you decide to do something. This affects all of us.

*smooches...trying to find peace*
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...first in my heart, then in the world, I guess.

#NMOS14

"Join us as we gather for a moment of silence for those who have been victims of police brutality throughout the U.S. Bring posters and signs w/the names and pictures of victims so that we can remember them and burn them in the conscious of America and the world."

In Brooklyn, there's a vigil planned at Fulton Park Plaza; in Manhattan I know of one in Union Square and another in Harlem. Follow the #NMOS14 to find one in your area. And please, we're all angry, but this is a peaceful vigil to remember our fallen brothers and sisters. Let's keep it that way.

*smooches...trying to hold back tears for the sixth day in a row*
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not sure how much longer before I burst

I OK, As Long As De Music Plays

I had a rough week.

A lot of plans blew up in my face and other things are threatening my patience and my sanity. Times like this I have no choice but to shrink away so I can find a solution or nurse my wounds.

When I heard about actor Lee Thompson Young ("The Famous Jett Jackson," "Rizzoli & Isles") committing suicide, I was sad, but mostly thankful for a coping mechanism for my own woes. "There but for the grace of god go I." There's always something or someone to bring me back.

And I always, always have music.



I can always bury myself in the arts and come out of it reborn. When you feel yourself falling down that rabbit hole, find that "thing" that anchors you. That anchor will save your life.

Trust me.

*smooches...hoping you're OK, too*
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I learned that "anchor" thing from watching "Teen Wolf" on Netflix. Get into it.

Lost In Translation: The Don Lemon Disaster

So as I understand it, Black Twitter has ousted CNN personality Don Lemon from The Club because of some recent comments that have deemed him an Uncle Tom (a diss I don't fully understand because I never read the book. I've currently pulled it off the shelf at work. I might read it unless one of you can give me the Cliff's Notes.). At first I cared not even one little bit. Not even a smidgen. I used to have a crush on Lemon but as soon as he came out as gay I moved on. I don't believe in fighting that fight, y'all. I know how good penis can be; there's no way to turn a man who likes penis.

But everyone and their momma kept talking about it (even created a hastag on the Twitter--Don Lemon Logic--about it) which made me finally read an article about Lemon's comments to see what was so bad about it. In a nutshell, Lemon agreed with something that Bill O'Reilly said about "...high levels of crime in 'black precincts'" and the "'disintegration of the African-American family'" and also discussed "...the 'gansta culture' pushed by the entertainment industry." Specifically, Lemon listed five ways we, as black people, could do better in life:

• Respect our communities
• Finish school
• Pulling up sagging pants
• Eliminating the n-word
• Addressing the issue of absentee fathers [source: The Daily Caller]

Honestly, folks, this isn't a bad list. If I have to see another young man's underwear without my consent, I'm going to scream. If I have to see another couple get pregnant accidentally on purpose and not take responsibility for the life they create, I'm going to hurt someone. But these things aren't only in the black community, so maybe that's why y'all are mad at Lemon?

I mean, that list is a very good start to fixing a bunch of serious issues within many black communities. Where I think maybe Ol' Don lost y'all was in laying this out as THE plan to fix everything, without addressing certain facts of modern life that are designed to keep the same groups down in the muck so that those with power ALWAYS have power.

I don't know; I'm not seeing why his remarks lit y'all all the way up, is what I'm saying. Maybe y'all didn't understand what he meant or he didn't express it properly? There just seems to be a communication breakdown somewhere, because I can see where he's going with this and let me tell ya- it's not a bad place.

Feel free to tell me I'm wrong so I can ignore you in the comments.

*smooches...ready to beat his ass if it's warranted*
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y'all know I'm all Black Panther-y now. just say the word and that jive turkey's ass is grass!

Laughs & Truths

So once again I want to point out that my favorite podcast, The Read, needs to be your favorite podcast, too.

This week's episode is full of the usual shenanigans, but also discusses the Zimmerman trial (and in case you're all "Ugh, I'm tired of hearing about this stupid trial!" well guess what- I'm tired of our black sons dying necessarily and the law saying it's OK. So there's that.).

And one point in particular, made by @Crissle during her read, stuck out to me the most: the idea of respectability politics, which can be defined as "a deliberate concession to mainstream societal values" in order to gain favor with the perceived "majority." I'll let you listen for yourself; start at 55:38 for Crissle's read and get your life.



I've been there, siding against my brethren regardless of the details just to keep the eyes off of me and not become a target myself. And mostly because remember, I denied my blackness for a big chunk of my life. Whenever blacks were portrayed negatively on the news or, you know, EVERYWHERE, I distinctly remember thinking "well that's not me because I went to a good school and I follow the rules and I do what I'm supposed to. Plus, I'm Dominican; I'm not even black!" Knowing damn well my black-ass was black.

So I connected to what Crissle was saying, and I understand both sides of the coin, but still, my black brothers and sisters: I urge you to wake up. Let's not turn against each other.

Amen and good day.

*smooches...growing and healing*
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reflecting on my own black guilt during these hard-as-fuck times

Obviously We Don't Matter

I'm writing this with fresh tears in my eyes for a black boy who was denied justice. Even if someone goes vigilante on George Zimmerman, it's not justice, because what I want is for THE LAW to recognize what Zimmerman did was wrong. I want THE LAW to affirm what's in my heart. And you can be mad at everyone for saying Zimmerman should have gotten off but please realize, THE LAW was on his side, and that's where our rage should be focused. We have to change THE LAW that allowed this to happen in the supposed land of the free.

I'm also writing this with a searing hatred in my heart that I'm working to quell. I can't explain it exactly, but it's like feeling an anxious indigestion in your lungs. Almost hard to breathe because of all the rage. I have this nervous energy that wants me to do bad things. I have a brand new headache that won't go away. I have a brand new Voice informing me that me and my babies and my family and my people aren't worth shit. We aren't worth tears or fairness or sympathy or even the benefit of the doubt. I can collect all the degrees I want and send my babies to all the best schools and bust my ass to make my own way in this world and never, ever have a scuffle with the law and still, I'm nothing. I don't even matter.

That's what this trial made me feel like: I don't matter. And that's bullshit, because I follow all of your motherfucking rules, AMERICA! I have a social security number; I pay taxes; I immunized my kids; I send them to school and keep them off the streets; I pay my own rent and utilities; I keep a job "on the books" and still, I don't matter. Well FUCK YOU, then. AMERICA.

And while we're on the subject, I need to address something real quick. All my white homies, pay attention and pass it on to the people you love.

When I'm visiting with either Cathi or Celia, dear, dear friends from college (more like family!!!!) who happen to be white and who live in areas where black folks are an anomaly, despite the fact that I know these women are my friends and love me and much as I love them, it doesn't diminish my hyper-awareness of, most times, being the only person of color in the room. It's something instinctual, like checking to see where all the exits are when you enter a room or making sure you're not alone with some dude on a subway car during that long ass ride from 59th Street to 125th Street on the A-Train. Just another safety precaution. I also listen intently for anything remotely racist said around me when I'm in said scenarios. Again, I can't turn it off, it just is.

This has always been my life. This is how I've learned to co-exist in a world that would rather I just go away and stop pestering it with desires of fairness and justice and liberty to pursue my happiness. I had to learn to adjust ME so as not to upset "the white folks" and I'm not kidding; this is how I grew up. "Don't be loud; don't make a scene; obey the cops" and so on, because I am the wrong shade of human to be afforded the luxury of being loud, causing a scene or disobeying the cops. It's exhausting to know I don't matter!

I'm not looking for pity or special treatment here, just understanding. We are systematically oppressed every day of our lives, on a small scale AND on a large scale. Everyday and all the time. This is why shit like this Zimmerman verdict has me flipping out and yelling RACISM. Because it is.

AND ANOTHER THING (to add to this unorganized rant). Just because you are the only white person in your group, neighborhood, city, state, dorm or WHATEVER, doesn't make you a minority in the same respect that non-whites are considered minorities, OK? The system is still on your side. You're not being ignored by your elected representatives (any more than usual). The cops aren't going to target or profile you. You can buy a house anywhere you want and no one will question WHY you got into a good school or got a great promotion.

So no, JAMES MCLELLAN, being the only white person in your county is not the same thing as being non-white in America. Shut the fuck up and enjoy your white privilege, idiot!

*no smooches today; I'm mourning my basic human right to exist in peace*
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how was your weekend?

Take This Music And Use It

A while ago I read Dr. Weill's Eight Weeks to Optimal Health and in it the doctor suggests that we distance ourselves from newspapers and the 11 o'clock news, because it poisons us. And I've tried to do that since I read that, but this George Zimmerman trial has taken over my soul.

I'm not going to tell you what to think or do or anything else with regard to this trial. In fact, I'm disabling comments because I don't want anyone to act ignorant on my blog. I'm not trying to be the next person in an orange jumpsuit.

But I am accepting that the outcome of this trial is not within my control. I'm not on the jury. I'm not the judge and I'm not on the prosecution's team. I'm releasing the anxiety I feel in my soul over this whole case. I'm going to go home and hug my babies and be thankful that they're okay. And be hopeful that justice will prevail in Florida.



Take a moment and think of everything that is stressing you out right now. Is it worth a heart attack? Is it worth your tears? Will your bad feelings or bad health, in any way, change the source of your stress? Be hopeful. Let go of the badness.

*smooches...practicing my yogic breath*
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this trial, though, is getting on my LAST motherfucking nerve. LAST. ONE.

How I Can Give Back

I'm just going to admit right now that I did not make it out to Far Rockaway or Coney Island to assist with any Post-Sandy clean-up efforts as I said I would, and my only excuse is that I suffer from a debilitating mental block that keeps me from wanting to leave my apartment most days. Especially if I'm leaving to mingle with new people. But you already knew that about me.

I will attempt to help out this weekend again (after I take N to basketball practice and maybe even surprise K with Ani DiFranco tickets), but in the meantime, check out my author site for details on how you can help by purchasing a copy of my book. Yes, it's a little self-serving...okay, maybe a lot self-serving. However it is a good book and the money will go to a great cause: getting this City back on its dysfunctional feet.

That is all.

*smooches...doing what I can*
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I get tired of just talking about stuff; it's now a time for doing. now all I have to do is conquer my fear of social situations and leave my house this weekend...

There's A First Time For Everything

Normally, when I go on a random hiatus from blogging, I pre-date some entries real quick and act like they've been here the whole time and you just missed it. Well, I had to have a conversation with my OCD and explain that the stress of worrying about whether or not I had a Jaded Photograph for November up on the blog was one of the reasons our liver was acting up.

MY OCD: BUT WE'VE MISSED SO MANY DAYS WORTH OF BLOG-POSTING!!!

ME: Do you WANT to die? Because that's what will happen if you don't learn to chill the fuck out.

So here's me (us!) posting on a Wednesday evening, watching the snow mock me from my office window, and willing myself not to care that I've not updated you guys for over five days. The Rockaways were pummeled to death by a hurricane; I think my OCD will survive this minor (non)tragedy.

We do hope you and yours are doing well and haven't lost anything that can't be replaced. I once had an entire basket of childhood photos RUINED by water damage and cried myself to sleep for days afterward. I know it's all material stuff but it still hurts. Watching the coffee table your great-great-great-grandmother brought over from the old country, that was handed down to you, wash away in a flood hurts. Do not be afraid or ashamed to mourn the things you've lost, especially if what you've lost is your sense of security.

And please, if we're friends or know each other in real life, and you're cold or hungry or displaced because of Sandy or even this stupid, rude, audacious snow that is falling outside my office window, please do not hesitate to contact me. My place is small but I have a comfy and warm-ish couch plus some yummy vittles with your name on them. We can gorge on cheesy Netflix movies all night!

*smooches...slowly trying to get back to normal*
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if it's even possible...

Stay Safe Today!

This is The Jaded NYer reporting LIVE from a remote, secure location, wishing you all a safe next couple of days while this Sandy bitch tries to take us out. I have water, food, good company and have charged all my crap. Am I missing anything?

Now, don't get all macho and stupid and put yourself or loved ones in danger, but remember- you are from New York. NEVER GIVE UP, NEVER SURRENDER.

And groove to this while you still have power...











What are you all doing to prepare for the unpredictable weather?

*smooches...wishing you all the best*
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I'll keep updating as long as Google and ConEd allow it!

My Kids Are Not My Whole Life

So, news broke today about a nanny who allegedly stabbed two kids under her care in the family's Upper West Side apartment. While reading the article online I made the dire mistake of reading the comments/reactions to the story, and let me tell you...a lot of these judgy motherfuckers need to go somewhere. In particular the folks who are BLAMING THE MOTHER for having the audacity to hire a nanny in the first place.

Have several seats and a large tumbler of shut the fuck up. Please and thank you.

It does not matter if I have all the money in the world or barely two nickels to rub together- if I want to hire someone to help me take care of my kids, OR RAISE THEM FOR ME, that's my damn prerogative. The nerve of people to think this woman deserved to have her children murdered because she was what they perceived to be a spoiled, kept woman who handed off motherly duties to the hired help... WHO DOES THAT?

Do people really think that giving birth means your entire existence has to revolve around your kids now? Moms & dads can't have outside, non-kid interests? It's just house arrest until the college years? Fuck outta here with all that noise! If that were the case, do you realize how many parents would kill the kids themselves?

Listen up because I'm about to break it down for you.

YES, when you decide to have children, those children are your responsibility. You have to think of their best interest and arm them with the tools they'll need later in life. But do you know what's in a child's best interest? To have happy parents. Parents who've had enough respite to deal with whatever fresh hell the world (and their kids) will throw at them each day. Sometimes that means finding someone to mind the kids while pursuing a rejuvenating activity or some adult/nekkid time with your partner (don't forget your partner, ever; that's a sure-fire way to end up in divorce court. Trust.), away from the stress of diapers and whining and Nick Jr.

So let's focus on getting justice for these two children and not hate on this woman because she was able to afford an Upper West Side life, okay? I mean, two of her kids were just KILLED, for chrissake! She's a human being with feelings!

I swear, man, that keyboard courage be a bitch sometimes...

*smooches...vowing to never again read comments on news articles*
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now that all that's been said, can we please address the fact that this nanny is Dominican? UGH, BITCH, UGH!! Just ruining life for the rest of us!

Wherein I Complain About The Election

I'm going to make this quick because I'm making myself physically ill worrying about what's happening around me, and the last thing I need is another reason for my liver to stop working properly.

As a rule, I don't trust politicians. Most of the time, they're in the business of getting or staying elected and rarely have time to actually keep their empty promises. I voted in the last election because I was beyond done with what Bush and his cohorts had done. I didn't particularly care for Obama but McCain was just more "Bush" and I couldn't get behind that.

This time around, and in the last four years, the climate in this country has been an embarrassment. The campaign season has been filled with kindergarten-style antics and finger pointing on both sides and I'm done. But what's really troubling is the BLATANT attack on a sitting president because he is Black. And don't come at me and say I'm being too sensitive or it's not true. I call BULLSHIT on all your reasons and excuses.

Whenever I hear a Romney supporter say they're ready to get "a REAL American and a REAL patriot" back in the office, all I see is "GET THAT FUCKING NIGGER OUT OF THE WHITE HOUSE." It makes me so angry that I can't even describe what comes over me except that I can't focus and my breathing becomes labored and without even realizing it I clench my jaw and ball up my fists.

This can't be the same America I used to be proud to be from! For a trillion years it's been OK for a White man- who doesn't represent ME- to hold the office, but now that it's a Black man who doesn't represent "them" it's World War III. Well kiss my ENTIRE ass.

Either man the fuck up and say what you really mean, or swallow this bitter pill and have a seat. Either way, know that I'm on to you. I can read between the lines and decode your hidden agendas.

I'll see you at the polls.

*no smooches...that is all*
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really considering whether to "love it or leave it"

Not Just Gang Members, Human Beings

This weekend I watched the documentary Crips and Bloods: Made in America, and let me tell you...I cried. I'll explain.

See, I'm of the school of "Don't give the cops a reason and you'll be FINE" and have never really put any credence in the ghetto mentality of The Man keeping "us" down. I grew up in the ghetto in the heart of the crack era and it didn't keep me down. I always joke about The Man, but I've never considered him a real threat.

Enter this fakakta documentary.



I was sitting there listening to these former and current gang member discuss their experiences and world views and you know what? I get it. If I had been told, at any point in my life, that I couldn't do something just because of the color of my skin or because of where I live, I would be bitter, too. If I had been stopped by the police everyday just for not being in my own neighborhood, I'd be angry, too. If my neighbors and kids were being gunned down in the street everyday while the cops did nothing to really prevent it, I'd feel hopeless, too. And if my environment offered no opportunities to better my situation, I'd give no fucks about life, too.

And if there was no one around to tell me about my options, offering me a way out, and only found comfort and protection from a local gang, I'd see no problems with making violence my way of life, too. I'd barely feel human!

These are young men and women being born into and growing up in a culture of constant harassment and poverty and depression, contained by invisible walls. And just outside that wall is freedom and happiness, but god forbid you cross the wrong street.

One former gang member said it best, when discussing the Watts and LA riots, stating that the police and National Guard didn't scare them because they were used to a cycle of guns and violence every damn day. The riots were just an extension of that. I couldn't even imagine that kind of life. I could hold back my tears no more.

The documentary did highlight the grassroots efforts afoot to help get these kids off the streets and out of the cross-hairs of the LAPD, and it did offer some hope, but without the backing of city, state and federal officials and funding, it's barely a drop in the bucket.

Toward the end, one former Crip, in an effort to reach the young gang members, looks into the camera with tears in his eyes (so of course by now I'm inconsolable) and says:

"Your reward for gang-banging is to be crippled, lamed, for life. Your greatest reward is life, plus forty years. Your ultimate reward for gang-banging is death. And you don't come back from that."

But after watching the documentary, though, I have to ask...what if death is better than what you have to come back to? Wouldn't gang-banging be a walk in the clouds?

*smooches...finally getting it*
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also, fuck the PO-lice!

A Jaded Moment In History Presents: I'm A Native New Yorker

When I was little and locked in my ivory tower, my cousin Minnie and I would, on occasion, pass the time by putting on records and singing along as if we were the artists. I know, lots of kids did this, I'm sure, but we raised it to an art form.

We had dance routines. We had a highly rated variety show that even went so far as to break for commercial (READ: we pressed PAUSE on the tape deck).

One group we played a lot was Odyssey. We had lots of great albums at my grandparents' house and they were the bees' knees to us. More so because we played them at a higher speed than we were supposed to (think of your favorite songs sung by the chipmunks). Our favorite was "The Woman Behind the Man."


(I wish I could have found a sped-up version so you can get the full effect of our playtime shenanigans.)

I'm sad to report that the lead singer of Odyssey, Lillian Lopez, died on September 5. She never knew it, and maybe she knows it now if there's an afterlife, but she was a huge part of my childhood.

And she will always make me SUPER PROUD to be a Latina born in this great City in the 70s. Rest in peace, sister.



*smooches...sad to have lost another one*
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they're dropping like flies...my childhood idols are LEAVING ME!