On raising a Black male in Amerikkka

Today...I'm going on a race rant.

There are 4 days left in the school year. I got a call from the principal at LCpl Tyler's school to come get him. He's been suspended for 5 days. (Really? 5 days and there are only 4 left?)

Apparently LCpl Tyler used the word FUCK (as in "Who the fuck cares") while being chewed out by a teacher. Apparently some little chick in his class was putting out cupcakes (this is High School fer chrissakes!), LCpl Tyler stood up to see what kind they were, said chick told him "Sit the fuck down and shut up, we're not ready", to which LCpl Tyler responded "Ok, calm down, no problem". His pinky-dicked teacher proceeded to send LCpl Tyler out to the hall to chew him a new asshole for DARING to talk back to someone who cursed at HIM first. (Note that LCpl Tyler did not curse at this chick and kept his cool. He knows the dealie with girls, they get a pass for being bitches.) Said dickless wonder teacher then proceeds to chew LCpl Tyler out, at which point LCpl Tyler said "Who the fuck cares?" Well, apparently the dickless wonder did (note, LCpl Tyler did NOT direct the word fuck AT his teacher personally.)

So I had to leave work to go pick him up. This is where the shit hit the fan for me.

The principal, Dr. I-Have-A-Doctorate-So-I'm-Better-Than-You proceeded to suggest that I may want to consider putting LCpl Tyler in a "special school" in VA Beach where he would get his GED in 5 months as school "isn't for everyone".

WHAT. THE. FUCK??????

Dr. I-Have-A-Doctorate-So-I'm-Better-Than-You then suggested that, "If he has anger management issues perhaps medication would be appropriate."

WHAT. THE. FUCK?????

Now let me point out a few things here. First, I may write like a fucking Shaneequa on here sometimes, but IRL in these situations and at work I am the very definition of professionalism and poise. (I vent here so the inner Shaneequa DOES come out sometimes.) Second, LCpl Tyler has not been in trouble at school for ANYTHING serious in 2 yrs.

SO HOW THE MOTHER FUCK DO YOU DETERMINE THAT ONE INCIDENT JUSTIFIES PUTTING MY FUCKING SON ON THE TRACK TO LOSER BLACK MALE????

I explained to Dr. I-Have-A-Doctorate-So-I'm-Better-Than-You that: a) I may have issues with LCpl Tyler's behavior, but he is neither a failure nor a juvenile delinquent; b) he is healthy, has been tested for every disability out there and it has been determined he HAS NO LEARNING/BEHAVIORIAL issues that require MEDICATION; c) I take full responsibility for getting LCpl Tyler to the age of 18 with a high school diploma; and d) I am not the type of parent that is looking for an "out" with my child due to the normal flow of growing up by tossing him away or sedating him into obedience.

I then told Dr. I-Have-A-Doctorate-So-I'm-Better-Than-You that I would like to have LCpl Tyler's Gunney Sgt present. So we went down there. OH YEAH Dr. I-Have-A-Doctorate-So-I'm-Better-Than-You - LCpl Tyler has been a CLASS LEADER ALL YEAR, HE'S VERY RESPONSIBLE, VERY SELF-CONFIDENT AND IS RESPECTED BY HIS SGT AND HIS CLASSMATES. "It must have been an abberation, but I'm sure LCpl Tyler will learn from this." (Go Gunney, Go Gunney, It's your birfday!) So FUCK YOU. Of course Dr. I-Have-A-Doctorate-So-I'm-Better-Than-You was shocked, shocked I tell ya.

I also informed Dr. I-Have-A-Doctorate-So-I'm-Better-Than-You that LCpl Tyler would attend summer school for the next 2 years to ensure he graduates in 2011. LCpl Tyler expressed his dislike for this arrangement and Dr. I-Have-A-Doctorate-So-I'm-Better-Than-You had THE NERVE to ask me why I would put him in summer school when he seemed so against it. I then informed Dr. I-Have-A-Doctorate-So-I'm-Better-Than-You that last time I checked, LCpl Tyler was a MINOR, that I was his PARENT and as such I had EVERY LEGAL RIGHT TO MAKE THIS DECISION REGARDLESS OF HIS OPINION.

On our way back to his office, Dr. I-Have-A-Doctorate-So-I'm-Better-Than-You lost a lot of his 'tude with me. "It's not usual to meet a parent who is so determined, informed and invested in their child's success" (no shit motherfucker, but I'm not your usual parent). By the time we got to his office he was doing everything he could to meet several of my requests regarding LCpl Tyler.

In other words..DON'T FUCK WITH ME BITCHES, GREER WILL CHEW YOU UP, SPIT YOU THE FUCK OUT AND YOU WILL LIKE IT AND BEG FOR MORE.

Now to my point.

I left there feeling extremely angry that my child - a black male - was IMMEDIATELY being put on a track for failure. That he was considered an AT RISK student that the system should just THROW AWAY.

Fuck these people. LCpl Tyler IS an asshole. But he's MY asshole. Yes, he's had issues, problems, done stupid shit that got him in trouble. But he's not in jail, isn't being picked up by the police every other week, doesn't do drugs (I had him tested, he's clean) and hasn't gotten some chick pregnant. On the whole, HE'S A PRETTY GOOD KID who just needs to control his temper, watch his mouth and put a little more effort into his schoolwork.

KINDA LIKE EVERY OTHER FUCKING TEENAGER IN AMERICA - BLACK, WHITE OR INDIFFERENT.

Just because he's black, comes from a broken home, has a single mom does NOT mean he is EXPENDABLE.

I'm pissed. I'm pissed BEYOND WORDS that MY CHILD is being labeled. That the fucking assholes that ARE expendable have set the standard by which MY KID is being judged and sentenced.

Fuck this racist bullshit. Just FUCK IT IN THE ASS. For the next two years I am going to be SO FAR UP THEIR ASSES they will be THRILLED LCpl Tyler is graduating and maybe, just maybe they won't be so fucking quick to judge the next black male as EXPENDABLE.

Cherry poppers

Several discussions, both online and IRL contribute to this post. Ok, and some really fucking good Liebfraumilch that chilled all day.

I was having a convo with dood at work about our "firsts", as in first sexual partner. Yes, I remember mine vividly as we grew up together and our parents always wanted us to end up together. I doubt they wanted him to be the one to pop my cherry though. True fact, my mother caught us in the act in the middle of the livingroom floor once. HA!

So anyway, dood was talking about where his first chick was at this point in life and naturally that made me question where Mr. S was. So I did a quick Google-foo as he had been involved in broadcasting. At one point he was a news anchor on our hometown teevee. That made my life miserable as my mother pointed it out to me EVERY FUCKING TIME SHE CALLED since radio/tv production was my major in college and I did fuck all with it. Shrug.

Well dontcha know I found him. Dontcha know he looks just like he did at 16. Dontcha know that made me laugh for quite some time.

I lost my virginity to Mr. S at the tender age of 15. I was DEEPLY in love with him although I found out later (after we broke up and got together again) that he didn't give a flying fuck about me except to tap that ass. Asshole. Second go round Mr. S wrote a song for me even, heh. Anywho, I lost my virginity to Mr. S on New Year's Eve 1976 in my own bed while my mother was next door at a party. Was it all that? Hells to the no. It hurt and I didn't get off. He did of course. Asshole. Sex with Mr. S was fun, he was packin' but it never was the roll your eyes into the back of your head kinda sex. He's also the first man I had anal with. That turned me off from doing that again for another 20 yrs.

So it appears that Mr. S is married with 2 kids and works for a station in the Deep South. Interesting that. I wonder if it's his 2nd marriage? I heard gossip over the years that his wife was an alcoholic. And white. Not that that matters, but it isn't surprising. Mr. S is biracial like me and CANNOT pass. His little bro' could, but he couldn't and always strained to BE white. I think some of that is what helped contribute to my not giving a rats ass about labels. I dunno. I just remember he was always striving to be accepted. His mom was white and that started me on the road to observing how which race the mother was affected the ability for a biracial child to be comfortable in their own skin.

Well the station website has a link to email Mr. S, but it appears to be broken. I think I'm going to keep trying to send Mr. S an email. I'd like to see where his head is at 30+ years later. Dood at work asked me if I would hit that again. Nah, don't think so. I have body image issues (it makes me freak for the Butterfly to see me completely naked) and HE was the one I learned that you don't go back to sloppy seconds.

Bettah late than nevah

Right now I'm reading: Our Kind of People: Inside America's Black Upper Class and FUCK ALL I'M HOME.

I'm also finding out how being biracial denied me the "benefits" I was entitled to given my maternal family's "status". I almost hate being half black a little now. But it only validates what I posted before about bi/multi-racial people in the black community.

When I've finished openly weeping over this book I'll write as best a review as my limited literary skills will allow.

*Update* - I'm getting angrier and angrier the more I read. While I can get with the concepts intellectually, from an ideological standpoint I'm SEETHING.

Take your slave mentality and shove it up your ass, I ain't down wit dat

Ok. Time to take off the gloves. I'm 'bout tired of black folks right about now.

I'm tired of hearing about what side of his family Obama should consider himself. I'm tired of hearing about Tiger Woods and his "cablinasian". I'm fucking tired of hearing ANYTHING ELSE about those of us who are multi-racial.

FUCK YOU. WE KNOW WHO WE ARE NO FUCKING THANKS TO YOU.

There's a long history in the black community about bi-racial children. Obviously the children born of black female slaves by their white masters were NOT accepted into their paternal families. Duh. So these children naturally lived black lives. Well there's this opinion among some that black folks were FORCED to accept these half breeds because no one else wanted them. And a lot of them were shunned by the black community for various reasons. Some could pass for white. Others were high yellow. Others were various shades in the spectrum. The mindset was that the products of these encounters were just another bit of the white man's trash black folks had to clean up. This idea still has legs in this day and age.

FUCK YOU.

Now another side to this was bi-racial and light skinned people feeling they were superior to "more black" blacks. That bit o' white made you better. Gave you a "leg up". And if you could pass - well HALLELUJAH JEBUS we gwine git ours! This too still has legs. I remember my former mother in law (who could almost pass) telling me that it was "the thing" for a dark black man to marry as light a woman as he could, so she was a "valuable" commodity in her youth. Nevermind that she was a bitch. And not even biracial, lol.

FUCK YOU TOO.

I really want to know when black folks are going to TRULY shrug off the slave mentality that has driven such a large portion of the community for centuries. When are WE going to throw off the labels white society has determined for us? When are we going to just be - people? When are we no longer going to give a fuck about color OURSELVES???

Now I'm half black and half white - black irish. I know the world sees me as a high yellow black woman. I also know my birth certificate says I'm white (LOL). But I go through life as GREER - not as black, certainly not as white. I AM THE BEST OF BOTH WORLDS BITCHES AND PROUD OF BOTH.

So all I can say to all you haters out there - STOP THE INSANITY. LEARN TO LOVE YOURSELF. STOP ACCEPTING SOMEONE ELSE'S LABEL. BE YOURSELF.

And get the FUCK up off my balls and that of mah bi/multi-racial sisters and brothers.

Oh yeah..while we're on the subject..SHUT THE FUCK UP ABOUT BROTHA'S AND THEIR WHITE WOMEN..WHO THE FUCK CARES? TRY A WHITE BOY, YOU'LL LIKE IT, TASTES JUST LIKE CHICKEN..TRUST ME!

Ode to the HNIC

I don’t remember at what point I made the ridiculous decision to go to the inaugural of the 44th President of the United States. I just know that the idea came to me and simply became a FACT. I do know that it was extremely important that my 15 yr old son attend this historic event. For 26 yrs now I’ve been telling the 3 little black men I gave birth to that they could be anything they wanted to be – even President of the United States – and dammit, Barack Hussein Obama didn’t make me out a liar.

So the day before the inaugural I sort of made a PLAN. Ok, so all I did was go down to the Metro and get two farecards. I had been following all the suggestions, routes, plans and warnings in the news. But since I’m a spontaneous kinda gal (read: last minute bitch) it wasn’t until the alarm clock went off at 6:00am on the 20th and I heard that traffic was backed up to the exit to my Metro station (the last on the line) and there was a 2 hr wait to get into the parking lot that the REALITY of what I wanted to do hit me. So I yelled for 5 straight minutes to get Tyler ready and out of the house.

ZOMG! They weren’t lying about the traffic on I-95! It was backed up to my regular exit for work, which is one exit from the Metro. It took us 45 min to cover a normal 10 minute drive. Feeling smug (the first time of many for the day that in retrospect were LIES AND PROPAGANDA of my own mind to validate why I wasn’t in my warm bed watching this shit on t.v.) I took the back way to the Metro. So far so good. Then we hit the line to parking. Not so much. So again feeling smug, I parked in the lot at one of the surrounding shopping areas. More on that later, LOL.

So with a jaunty stride, Tyler and I began our 2 block walk to the Metro. There were at least 50 chartered buses in and around the Metro area discharging a FUCKLOAD of black folks. Seriously, it was wall to wall black folks. The ones that stood out? The CHURCH LADIES. You know, the ones with the fur coats, fur hats, 20 hundred rings, earrings, bracelets and necklaces on. And lipstick. One can’t be a respectable church lady without lipstick. And you know what else they had? CASH MONEY. Yes indeedy, the purchasing of memorabilia began at the Metro station. With the newspapers that had Obama’s picture on the front. They went into the plastic grocery bags they carried with their bottled water and a little somethin’ somethin’ to nibble on during the long waits in line.

We cut past them as quickly and politely as possible. Particularly if they were accompanied by their usual companions THE OLD BLACK DOODS. Yeah, leather or wool coats and Kanga hats or fedoras and mutha fuckin’ DRESS SHOES. The kind of old black doods that make me avoid brothas completely so I don’t EVER end up with an old black dood (shudder).

We even managed to dodge past the CHILLUNS. Yes, chilluns. Lots and lots of chilluns. With huge eyes wondering what this GRAND ADVENTURE was all about. Knowing it was special because the church ladies and old black doods (grams and gramps) told them it was and they better act right.

As usual the SELF-IMPORTANT teenage and pre-pubescent gangsta and ‘ho wannabe’s were out in full force (they are no match against the church ladies and old black doods in the final analysis. This was a FORCED EXCURSION for them on one hand, and a chance to go to DC on the other. So they were determined to be as belligerent and asshole-ish as possible while keeping their cell phones and iPods on display.

There were also the mommies and daddies playing herder and overseeing the entire operation. Some were styling and profiling, most were dressed practically with the EVER PERVASIVE bluetooth in place. (Do they work or are they just accessories? Are they having actual conversations with REAL LIVE PEOPLE like that ALL THE FUCKING TIME? Inquiring minds want to KNOW!)

See, this was a FAMILY AFFAIR. These were entire multi-generational groups of relations on a MISSION to see the swearing in of the FIRST BLACK PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. This was the kind of shit you did NOT stay home and watch on CNN if you could find a few extra dollars in this fucked up economy to get you to DC.

Mah peeps. This day I loved each and every fucking one of them. I was puffed up being one of them. This was MY HISTORY in the making god dammit. And I was able to give my son his chance at being a part of history, no matter how small.

Fuck yeah bitches, LOL.

But let’s not get it twisted. The white folks were OUT IN FORCE. And they were NOT AFRAID. Note that. They were NOT AFRAID of the sea of black they rode along in. See, they had helped CREATE THIS HISTORIC MOMENT and they were going to get their RESPECT. Well they deserve it. He couldn’t have won if whitey hadn’t voted for him. If whitey hadn’t got out there and knocked on doors, put his money in the pot – PUT HIS SKIN IN THE GAME. For every 5 black faces in the crowd, there were 3 non-black ones.

So we cruised past the idealistic young 30 somethings in their Lands End, Burberry and J Crew with their 2.5 children strapped to their backs and a Starbucks cup in hand.

We scooted around the SILLY WHITE GIRLS doing their best to get whiplash flipping their hair around in their PRETTY PASTEL down jackets and matching earmuffs and mittens. Their pink Blackberry’s at the ready. FER SHURE.

Harder to dodge were the REMNANT CIVIL RIGHTS IDEALISTIC WHITE FOLKS. The ones who either participated back then or supported things back then. The lifetime idealists. The ones who PUT SKIN IN THE GAME 40 YEARS AGO and put it in again THIS TIME.

My people. Like I said, don’t get it twisted. My white folks were there to stand up and be counted too. No shame in their game AT ALL. This educated, well spoken, moderate BLACK MAN was their overall hella choice and they were there to celebrate too.

This was a microcosm of what awaited us in the nation’s capitol. It was also where the buzz, the palpable POSITIVE VIBE kinda grabbed you and said HEY, PAY THE FUCK ATTENTION TO THIS SHIT RIGHT HERE, RIGHT NOW.

Now, you know there is no such thing as having THAT MANY BLACK FOLKS together in ONE PLACE – let me rephrase that, let me HONESTLY rephrase that – there is no such thing as having THAT MANY PEOPLE in one place under stressful conditions and not having problems.

There were no problems. People were polite. People were considerate. People were talking animatedly with whomever was next to them. Perfect strangers. There was smiling and laughing and fist bumping EVERYWHERE.

This was how the world and life is supposed to be. I started crying then.

Now keep in mind we were at the end of the line/first stop on the line, we should have had NO PROBLEM getting seats. WRONG. We stood all the way into DC. The train was 8 cars long and PACKED. It was so bad, even the hardened Metro riders closer to the city didn’t even TRY to force their way on. So we passed a lot of crowded Metro stations all the way in. This is where I started to realize “this shit is getting’ WILD.”

So we make it into DC finally. Lots of delays with slow trains, some broken down – even one emergency where a lady fell on the tracks (she turned out fine).

HOLY FUCK. I thought our Metro station was packed. O how wrong I was. We got off at Federal Station to a SEA OF PEOPLE. Literally. But wait, let’s EXIT the station. HOLY MOTHER FUCK. The streets were CRAWLING with people. Like ants. Everywhere. Nothing but bodies. No little breaks of open space. Just bodies covering EVERYTHING.

This is where I said OUT LOUD, “this shit IS wild”.

Now I have no idea how to navigate DC. I rarely go there and when I do it’s usually with someone that lives there who directs our movements. So Tyler and I were adrift with the sea of people. Somewhat guided by the military personnel and law enforcement stationed at intervals. Nice folks who had nfc where to direct any of us. They were overwhelmed as much as the rest of us I think. LOL.

Well we ended up wandering until I decided ENOUGH IS ENOUGH or we’re going to miss the festivities. That was just outside of the national mall. Before I like, looked at it. I told Tyler to just jump the police barricades (Question Authority FTW!) along with the other 50,000 people around us. That’s when I got a look at the mall.

I can’t describe what I saw. If you watched it on tv it didn’t do the live experience justice. I’ve never seen that many people in the flesh in one place in my life. It was just – people, everywhere.

Even people around me were in awe of the sheer sea of Americankind. And it was like being in a sea, the movement of the crowd determined your personal movement. One moment you were in front of someone with a pink knit cap, a few minutes later you were behind one of the church ladies with her fur hat in your mouth – all because someone somewhere shifted. That shit was WILD.

But it was also very frightening. To be packed in so tightly, to be literally WEDGED into people on all sides of you. To get to know perfect strangers in a way that in any other situation could be almost sexual – that was, for me, not cool. I’ve been told that is what it’s like at Times Square on New Years Eve. Don’t need that experience again in my life thankyouverymuch. If there had been just ONE panicked person, or one good wave of pushing from the back I could foresee being trampled to death. No, nothing is worth me experiencing that again.

All around were my fellow Americans talking about their Obama experiences, their Obama feelings, their Obama hopes and fears. Church ladies and remnant white folks talking about the “day”. How they had NEVER, EVER IN THEIR WILDEST DREAMS THOUGHT THIS DAY WOULD COME OR THEY WOULD LIVE TO SEE IT. And they hugged each other and said silent prayers to whatever it is they worship.

And because we’re Americans and because we know it’s our RIGHT to comment on anything and anyone – as the faces of those muckity-mucks and self-important mutha fuckas that run this joint began to appear on the jumbotron – everyone had an OPINION and EXPRESSED IT. LOUDLY. The Senior Bush’s were booed – as well as Jenna and Not-Jenna. Cheney was booed and derided for being wheelchair bound. Carter was cheered. Clinton came out and the crowd went WILD. Some dood came out and my personal comment was “who the fuck is that cadaver?”. I forget who it was, but I think it was the dood that swore in Biden. Speaking of which, Jumpin Joe got cheered.

Before I get to the MAIN EVENT, let me make sure I record this for posterity: I heard later that those who were watching on t.v. thought they heard the crowd singing “Na Na Hey Hey Kiss Them Goodbye” by Steam when Dubya and Pickles came out. YES, THE CROWD BROKE OUT INTO THE SONG SPONTANEOUSLY SEVERAL TIMES WHENEVER DUBYA WAS SHOWN ON THE JUMBOTRON. IF YOU READ SOMETHING FROM THE RIGHT WING STATING OTHERWISE THEY ARE LYING TO YOU AND DON’T BELIEVE THE HYPE. I WAS THERE, I WAS SINGING IT, MY FUCKING KID WAS SINGING IT, EVERYONE AROUND ME WAS SINGING IT.

Alrighty then.

The crowd also went insane whenever they showed the Obamas. In the limo, out the limo, the grandma, Michelle, the girls. Cheers, cheers, cheers. Let me also go on the record as saying that BOTH BLACK AND WHITE MEN WERE ALL ABOUT THE FINENESS OF THE FIRST LADY. That is all. So all you sista’s who are DEEP into hatin’ Michelle – fuck off. She won. Game ovah. Find something new to be bitter over.

And then.

It happened.

THE MAN. The HNIC. The PROMISE made REAL. The CHICKENS COMING HOME TO ROOST.

The crowd completely lost it’s mind. You would have thought Christ came down off the fucking cross.

Understand, I’m a fan of Obama. He wasn’t my first choice – I was a Hillary supporter. But dood won, he’s a half-breed like me, he’s 19 days older than me, our lives are quite similar (except I’ve never lived outside the U.S.), I attended private school, I had to struggle at some point in life to define myself for myself. I KNOW FROM WHERE THIS DOOD COMES. So I didn’t have too much of a stretch to get on the Obama wagon.

But GODDESS DAMN! It’s almost cult-like. And of course that scares me cuz he’s JUST A MAN. He’s also a man that’s going to piss off a whole lotta those same worshippers REAL SOON. ‘Specially black folks, cuz you know, there seems to be this idea there’s going to be a side door at the white house now where Negroes can come up and get a little somethin’ somethin’ cuz a brotha is Prez. * giggle * Ya’ll some stupid asses if you think THAT’S going to happen.

But I digress. The MAN OF THE HOUR was there. He stood proud, straight and confident as he took the oath of office from a bumbling IDIOT who (in my personal conspiracy theory) FUCKED UP THE OATH to give the HATERS a reason to cry foul. But whatever, the payoff he got can’t change things. The NEGRO is THE PRESIDENT. All racists that have died in the past were simultaneously spinning in their graves at that moment. Heh.

Again. The waterworks. Me and about 50 hundred gajillion others. Frozen on our faces and our eyelashes. A glance at my son with his eyes wide and a smile on his face. Yeah. This was the shit. And I was there.

I’ve always believed that a black person could be elected as President. I felt if it happened in my lifetime it would be when I was an old, old bitch – if then. I didn’t grow up and still don’t have a prejudiced bone in my body. I can’t. At the point in life when you learn that people out there consider your very existence (as a half-breed) to be an abomination before god, a sin, a mutation, something that should never have been allowed to live – you kinda can’t get with prejudice. You dig? And I knew that eventually enough people would find the whole bullshit reasons behind racism to be just that, bullshit and things would CHANGE. And they have. Not a whole fuckload, but more than they were 40 yrs ago when I was a little girl. More even than 26 yrs ago when I gave birth to my first son. More than 15 yrs ago when I gave birth to the son that was by my side at this historic occasion. The one who would benefit most from what we were witnessing.

I was as proud of my country as I could ever be at that moment in time. I’m so thankful I could be a part of it.

We left right as the LOSER poet was reading her poem. The rest of our day was all downhill. 3 hr wait to catch the Metro back. They say the final number of riders on Metro that day was 1.1 million. Yup. And they were all packed into L’Enfant Plaza with us waiting to catch a ride.

Remember how smug I was at the beginning? Remember I parked my car at the shopping center? SMUGGNESS FOR THE LOSS. Yeah, my car got towed. That’s the point where Tyler got a CASE OF THE ASS and ruined this wonderful mother/son day. But the Goddess didn’t let me down. The place the car was towed was one Metro stop down, was open 24/7 and my coven sister Gretchen picked us up at the station and zipped us over to the lot and $125 later we were on our way home. It could have been worse so I’m not complaining. It was a small price to pay to witness history in the making.

A couple GAJILLION friends came over and we hung out in the front yard today..

I'll put up my thoughts and observations tomorrow. I have nfi why I can't sleep right now and I need to be up for work in 3 hrs. I was (as usual) conscripted by Mr. Davis to write a piece for Soul Patrol so I told him he'd get my blog post instead. Funny how he only shows up when he wants something from me. I don't think I like that. Enjoy the pics!



Please to look at the line of people in the catwalk at my Metro station. Please to know it's the first (last) station on this line.




This was the train we DIDN'T get on when we finally got to the platform..



..which looked like this. I have never seen a Metro stop this crowded. (No, I don't live in MD, I live in VA - Largo is the other end of the line.)





This was our train after we all piled in. There are 17 stops to go. LOL. They say people took 1.1 million trips as of 7 p.m.




The view at Federal Center station when we detrained. LOL.




Some fucking place in DC while following the crowds to get to the Mall. I don't live in DC. Don't know how to get around it. Thank the Goddess for the nice military personnel scattered about who directed us noobs.




Why did I take this pic? Because anytime you expect a crowd of NEGROES, someone will be burnin' some ribs to sell. I ain't hatin', just givin' a nod to an AMERICAN tradition.




Holy shit. Really?




Really. Please keep in mind where the Washington Memorial is in relation to the Capitol Building. Yeah. Really.




This was my eye level. Yes, I'm short. Guess how much I got to see? You can just make out the jumbotron by the tree. The only time I had an unobstructed view (which was at a crappy angle) was during the swearing in when people stood still.




An old, cold tired me with Tyler who looks not happy. Actually he was extremely good all day. Took care of his old mom and had only one brief moment of asshole-ishness. He did enjoy himself.




The EXODUS. Truly it was an epic event.




WE CAN HAZ SEATS on the way home. After a 3 FUCKING HOUR WAIT IN LINE TO GET ON THE FUCKING TRAIN. Remember those 1.1 million trips? Yeah, all of them were in FUCKING LINE WITH US FOR 3 HOURS TO GET ON THE FUCKING TRAIN. The next stop filled the train to capacity, lol. Tyler and I laughed while we sat comfortably.




And that's how WE roll.

A closure to disenfranchisement

I had like 2 or 3 long-winded posts on the election of Barack Obama as the 44th President of the United States of America, but I'm tired.

Happy tired, relief tired, proud tired.

So just click HERE as it says all I have to say and feel right now.

Thank you my fellow Americans.

The Unbearable Lightness of Being..a sell out

Today I willingly subjected myself to one of the most horrific rituals a black woman can endure.

I went to the beauty shop.

I don't "do" the hair thang. I subscribe to free range hair styling. I'm doing good if I comb it every day. I haven't been to the shop in almost 3 years but I needed a trim badly.

And that was my first mistake.

Here's what I dislike about going to the beauty shop:

me (on phone): "I need a wash, deep condition and trim, maybe flat iron it."
stylist (I've never met): "Gurl, I got you. Be here at 9"
me: "Ok, but let me warn you, I have a LOT of hair."
stylist: "Chile I'm good, we'll have you in and out in no time. I'm fast and I ain't scared."
me: "No, really, I have a LOT of hair."
stylist: "No problem. Be here at 9. It's all good."

So I walk in the shop. All the stylists look up. Silence. Stares. Eyes quickly back to the heads in their chairs. You KNOW they hope you're not there for them.

Did I mention here that I have a LOT of hair? Non permed hair. Think Chaka Khan/Diana Ross hair. Then double it. Yeah. That's what I rock.

stylist 1: "Can I help you?"
me: "I have a 9 o'clock with D."
stylist 1 (laughter): "Oh, D. Your 9 o'clock is here."
D (comes over): "chile. You got a LOT of hair."
me: "I believe I told you that on the phone."
D (picking through my hair): "But chile. All this hair. Well, my 7 o'clock didn't get here til 8 so I'm running behind. Let's wash you and put you under the dryer. Chile we gonna have to dry this mess some before I start."

Let me mention that D is young enough to be my child. The chile thing is starting to grate on my nerves. I also don't subscribe to CP time. I am insanely punctual and so now the whole over-booking thing is grating on my nerves too.

Around 10:30 she finished the weave that was ahead of me. Side note: Why do black women feel the need to have some poor asian woman's hair SEWN into their head? Just take reasonably good care of your shit, avoid the chems and let your OWN shit grow. Damn.

Finally she blow dries it. And again the stares all around.

Did I mention my hair is ass-length? Yeah. But if it's not blown out or pressed it's just at my shoulders - the natural curl factor. So yeah. I have a LOT of hair.

stylist 2: "Gurl is that ALL YOURS?"
me: "Yes ma'am, it surely is."
stylist 2: "Beautiful. Simply beautiful."
me: "Thank you."

And of course the "Bitch, you think you're cute" looks from other women in the shop. The "I could pull you down by that hair and fuck you" looks from the men in the shop. The "Thank God she didn't ask for me" looks from the other stylists. I don't like being the object of haters. I can't help what I was born with. Fuck grow your own shit and step the fuck up off of me. Vain? No. Just the way some people are and after 48 yrs of it, you know it when you see it. Whatever.

In the meantime, D's daughter and hubby come into the shop. (D is taking a short halfway break. All that hair that she was just gonna knock out so fast is taking it's toll.)

D (when she comes back over): "My daughter asked if that was your real hair."

Ok. So around 12:30 we're finally done. Note the time. 12:30. I got there at 9.

She took off about 4 inches, the split ends were horrible. It's still almost at my butt-crack. But it's straight. Now I can channel Whoopi's little black girl wearing the shirt character. It flows, it blows it's in my fucking WAY. It's also far more greasy from all the product. Yuk.

Why all this? Well I needed the trim. I've also felt my blackness a lot more lately with the election and all. I can't completely escape my culture's self-hate and need for societal conformity. And the Butterfly saw a pic of me with it like this and wanted to see it live and I rarely deny that white man anything.

So now I'm a sell-out for the time being. But a pretty one.

now playing on my iPod "And It Stoned Me", Van Morrison