behind my lids
images of dancing tree limbs
and tumbling leaves
flow through like silent films of
Autumn
i watch, serenely, smelling
the breeze, feeling the scents
on my cheeks, waiting for the intermission
trying to remember
where the concessions were being sold
*smooches...just trying to make it through the week*
----------
I figured you wouldn't rightly care if I posted a fall message in the middle of a heatwave
Wednesday, July 17, 2013
Tuesday, July 16, 2013
The House Negro Diaries, 2013
The Blogger Formerly Known As Smarty, aka Tiffany, told me this weekend that me and my beige counterparts are always the most militant Negroes, and I agree. At least for myself. The evolution of my blackness saw me first DENY it (I'm Spanish/Hispanic/Dominican, not black!) and then slowly come to grips with it (deal with my 'fro, bitches!), culminating in this past weekend when I was ready to join the new Black Panthers or something.
Let's just say I've since been taught to find a happy medium. Whitey doesn't necessarily HAVE TO die, he just needs to be reined in a bit. Or a lot. Whatever.
Still, this happened in the midst of all that:
ME: I got an email for career day in October. Would it be wrong to title my presentation: How to Stay Under Whitey's Radar and Live to See Your Grandbabies?
TIFFANY: O_O!!! Massa might have a problem with that.
ME: Don't he always? I'm gonna pee in his sweet tea. "I got sumin sweet for ya, alright!"
TIFFANY: Lmao! Disgusting.
ME: No lie, that's the kind of house negro I would have been, putting shit all in their food because FUCK MASSA, that's why! ...and then I'd giggle my yellow ass all the way home at the end of the day.
TIFFANY: Lmao! Your ass woulda been in the hot box.
ME: How would they know? "What's in this?" "Adobo."
TIFFANY: ROTFLMAO!!!
::opens door::
Good day, ma'am.
ME: Awww, man...!
TIFFANY: Nah, you woulda been a comfort girl 'cause you're tall. They woulda bred you with a buck to create big ol' SUPER slaves.
ME: Wait- where can I get my hands on one of those bucks though? What his mowf do?
TIFFANY: I said GOOD DAY!
*smooches...wondering what to do with this new rebellious soul*
-----------
I just want to break every rule and put my middle finger in everyone's face. but you know, I like having a job so I won't. I'll just find someplace to volunteer instead.
Let's just say I've since been taught to find a happy medium. Whitey doesn't necessarily HAVE TO die, he just needs to be reined in a bit. Or a lot. Whatever.
Still, this happened in the midst of all that:
ME: I got an email for career day in October. Would it be wrong to title my presentation: How to Stay Under Whitey's Radar and Live to See Your Grandbabies?
TIFFANY: O_O!!! Massa might have a problem with that.
ME: Don't he always? I'm gonna pee in his sweet tea. "I got sumin sweet for ya, alright!"
TIFFANY: Lmao! Disgusting.
ME: No lie, that's the kind of house negro I would have been, putting shit all in their food because FUCK MASSA, that's why! ...and then I'd giggle my yellow ass all the way home at the end of the day.
TIFFANY: Lmao! Your ass woulda been in the hot box.
ME: How would they know? "What's in this?" "Adobo."
TIFFANY: ROTFLMAO!!!
::opens door::
Good day, ma'am.
ME: Awww, man...!
TIFFANY: Nah, you woulda been a comfort girl 'cause you're tall. They woulda bred you with a buck to create big ol' SUPER slaves.
ME: Wait- where can I get my hands on one of those bucks though? What his mowf do?
TIFFANY: I said GOOD DAY!
*smooches...wondering what to do with this new rebellious soul*
-----------
I just want to break every rule and put my middle finger in everyone's face. but you know, I like having a job so I won't. I'll just find someplace to volunteer instead.
Monday, July 15, 2013
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*
-----------
how was your weekend?
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*
-----------
how was your weekend?
Friday, July 05, 2013
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*
----------
this trial, though, is getting on my LAST motherfucking nerve. LAST. ONE.
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*
----------
this trial, though, is getting on my LAST motherfucking nerve. LAST. ONE.
Thursday, July 04, 2013
Only Dominicans Will Get This
Mari told me this joke years ago. It STILL cracks me up.
*smooches...enjoying a quiet day*
----------
who's bringing me some BBQ?
What's the smelliest holiday?
Fo-fo July.
*smooches...enjoying a quiet day*
----------
who's bringing me some BBQ?
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