Parameters of Blackness (Part II: Electric Boogaloo)

Prior to the publication of After The Dance, I shared a portion of the manuscript with various friends and relatives. A comment from one of my cousins took me by surprise. According to her, the names of my primary protagonists--Carl & Faye, weren't "Black enough." My initial reaction was--"Huh? Say what! Come again."

Yeah, according to Cuz, I should have named my characters something along the lines of "Shauneequah" and "Jondavious." OKAY . . . Now, had the remark come from someone other than this particular cousin, perhaps I might have understood it.

To give you a bit of background, even though I'm a few years older than my cousin, we spent a fair amount of time together as kids. Our grandmothers are sisters and our families have always been close. Just like I did, my cousin grew up in a two-parent household. Her parents and mine left the hood a LONG time ago. Just like I do, my cousin lives in the suburbs and like me, is in a marriage that has lasted longer than 10 years, and like me is the mother of one child, a son.

No one in either of our immediate families has a name like Shauneequah or Jondavious. Not that there's anything wrong with either of these two names, I'm just saying--why would my cousin or anyone else feel justified in implying that I'm being something other than Black if I opt NOT to go the Shauneequah and Jondavious route? Are names like those somehow more authentically Black than names like Carl & Faye or Lori & Al or Wendy & Brian? (Yeah Cuz, what? You thought I wasn't gonna call you out?! LOL)

My cousin's son and my own are both African American youths who have excelled academically since Kindergarten. Does that fact somehow make them less authentically Black? As the Black mother of a Black son and as someone who writes stories about Black people, am I somehow obligated , for the sake of "keeping it real" to churn out portraits of African American boys who make failing grades and flunk out of school? Who only dream of being sports figures and hip-hop artists? Who only look up to pimps, drug dealers and gang bangers? If so, for whom am I keeping this real? And why?

I think, like a lot of people, be they Black, White or Other, my cousin has bought into the lucrative fiction of what Black is and what it ain't--a fiction that's currently being cut and repackaged before being sold back to us, like so many nickel and dime bags. A fiction created by the image and identity hustlers who've set up shop in the publishing world, the music industry, Hollywood and the like. They get paid well feeding us a steady diet of the same old, tired stereotypical images and even when we know better, some of us have allowed ourselves to get hooked. Yeah, we're buying it, ingesting it and eventually, like addicts, finding ourselves somewhere (whether it be at the bookstore, the movie theatre or in front of the television) straight sprung, fiending, frothing at the mouth and wanting to beat-down the first somebody who dares suggest, "You know, maybe all of that sh!t ain't good for you . . ."

In the December 2008 issue of The Writer, there is an article entitled, "On writing against ethnic stereotypes," which mainly focuses on the media's distorted and one-dimensional view of Italian Americans. The author of the piece, Paola Corso, states that stereotypes aren't necessairly bad when used purposefully and I tend to agree. I'd love to see more African American artists, musicians, writers, filmmakers, etc. attempting to flip the script by manipulating stereotypes via satire, parody and humor. I attempted to do some of that in my own debut novel. But these days, more often than not, the most serious offenders (pun fully intended) and eager perpetuators of some of the most vile, negative and derogatory things said about Black men and women are other Black men and women.

To be clear, I don't have an issue with names like Shauneequah and Jondavious. I have plenty of Shauns and Jons in my extended family and within my circle of friends, none of whom I consider more or less Black than my cousin or myself. My issue is with the mindset that suggests there is only one way of being authentically Black . . . an authenticity that is all too often narrowly defined and tied to a host of negative images and outright stereotypes.

You know, at some point I may write about a character named Shauneequah, but you'd best believe she won't live in the hood, have a crack habit, take licks upside the head from her gangbanging boyfriend, Jondavious, or work for a process-wearing pimp who dreams of being a rapper (smile). Nope, my Shauneequah will probably be an African American businesswoman who lives in Charleston, owns a seafood restaurant, a beachside home and a pilot's license. She'll probably be in a long-distance relationship with some well-to-do resort owner, a North African she met while vacationing in the south of France (I am so making this mess up off the top of my head, LOL). My Shauneequah will probably be in the process of legally adopting her deceased best friend's little girl, both of whom, the best friend and the little girl, just so happen to be White.

Yeah, I know, a story like that would never get published, at least, not by someone like me.

(If you're interested or you missed it--PARAMETERS OF BLACKNESS: PART I)

The Parameters of Blackness: Too Black vs. Not Black Enough . . .

I bet I'm not the only one who has ever wondered what makes something or someone too Black as apposed to not Black enough. Come on, don't act like y'all don't know what I'm talking about? Okay, wait . . . does the use of a word like y'all mark me as Black? Southern? Ignorant and uneducated? Are any (or perhaps, all) of the aforementioned synonymous? In some people's book, apparently so.

Okay, so what if I make a practice of always speaking and writing in grammatically correct English. Will it have an impact on my DNA? The melanin in my skin? My cultural identity? Will it somehow make me less Black?

One of my best friends, a woman who has known me since my freshman year in college has this peculiar habit of laughing at something I've said and then telling me, "Girl, you so Black!" Hmm, so what exactly does that mean? And when compared to whom, I wonder?

Every few years, I have this habit of giving my hair a break from chemical relaxers and wearing my tresses au natural. In case you're wondering, yes, I am currently in the middle of one of those stages. But I've long been fascinated by what other Black folks read into both this practice as well as the appearance of my hair in its natural, unrelaxed and unstraightened state.

I remember being in a conversation with a co-worker once and her making a comment that I'm sure a number of Black & White folks alike would have deemed politically incorrect. After making the remark, my co-worker looked over at me (and my naturally nappy head) and said something along the lines of, "I guess that means my Black card is gonna have to be revoked, huh?" I grinned back at her and said, "What? Did you miss the memo? Naw girl, see, I'm not even in charge of that this year."

The truly funny thing is--just as soon as somebody labels me "too Black" for one reason or another, someone else is quick to step forward and suggest I'm somehow not quite Black enough.

I never will forget the time I was talking and laughing with one of my Black male co-workers when he up and said, "You must be married to a White guy." I was like, "What? Huh? Where in the heck did that come from?" By the same token, my spouse (who is indeed, very much an African American man) tells me his co-workers (the ones who've never met or seen me in person) are in the habit of assuming he's married to a White woman.

Okay, so obviously, I'm in a no win situation here (LOL). But you know what I've decided? Just as folks have a God-given right to think whatever the hell they please about me and mine, as long as I know who the hell I am, it's all good (smile).

Still, I'd very much like to know from all of those who have deemed themselves the arbitrators of such--what sorts of things define Blackness? I'm saying, is there like a list or something? If so, what sorts of things are on it?

--Whether or not one can get down with a plate of collard greens and neckbones?

--Whether or not one grew up in the ghetto, in the projects or in the hood drinking red Kool-Aid and eating fried bologna sandwiches?

--Being able to rap, dance, carry a tune, play Bid-Whist and sing Old Negro spirituals?

--Belonging to a church where folks shout and speak in tongues?

--Being sexually promiscuous? Being athletically gifted?

--Wearing locs? Braids? Sagging pants?

--Having any (or all) of the following in your immediate family--a crack head, a pimp, a gang-banger, a stripper, a two-bit ho . . .

--Being loud, ill-mannered, always ready to fight and or cuss somebody out?

--Being a high school drop-out? Having a criminal record? Being on welfare? Having five children by five different partners?

Do any (or all) of the aforementioned fit into your definition of Blackness? If so, why? If someone who wasn't Black described African Americans exclusively in those terms would you or would you not be offended? Is there a difference between embracing a positive stereotype and embracing a negative one? What qualifies one to decide who's too Black and who isn't quite Black enough?

To Be Continued . . .

But feel free to comment now, if you'd like (smile).

Slavery & The Civil War . . . A Personal Connection . . .

This past Saturday afternoon, instead of turning on The Best of Soul Train and spending an hour reliving the '70s, I tuned into a segment of CSPAN'S BOOKTV and allowed myself to be taken even further back in history. How far? Well, the US Civil War period, to be exact.

The program I made a point of watching this past Saturday on CSPAN's BookTV featured a segment on Andrew Ward and the material in his new book. Mr. Ward is an author & scholar who has researched the US Civil War recollections of former slaves and compiled some of his findings in a book entitled The Slaves' War: The Civil War in the Words of Former Slaves (Houghton Mifflin).

Mr. Ward's research is right down my alley. I love read, studying and listening to oral histories and only wish I had more time in which to immerse myself in such pursuits. One of the best things I ever did (years ago, before I got so darned busy and my story-telling grandmother got seriously ill) was sit down with my M'Deah and record her recollections of our family's history in an area of South Memphis (Whitehaven) known as Johnson Subdivision (Johnson Sub, for short). Without those cassette tape recordings, which I later transcribed, I may have never known about my own family's involvement in the Civil War.

As luck or fate would have it, my grandmother had lived in close proximity to her grandparents, interacted with them on a regular basis and knew a number of details about Margaret and Charlie Cannon, whom she affectionally referred to as "Grandma and Grandpa."

Charles Cannon (or Charlie Cannon as my grandmother called him), was a name I'd stumbled aross years later, long after my grandmother had passed and while I was in the public library one day, trying to find information on another one of my ancestors, the man and former slave said to have founded Johnson Sub, Prince Johnson. One of my great aunts had told me that Prince, who was her grandfather (and my great-great grandfather) had served in the Civil War. So, I'd been researching pension records trying to document Prince's service in the Union Army when I came across the pension record of a one Charles Cannon.

All of the details in the Colored Man's Application for Pension, which had been filed on April 11, 1927 (approximately sixty-two years after the Civil War) made me think he just might be the "Grandpa" or "Charlie Cannon" of whom my M'Deah had spoken so fondly, but I KNEW he was "my" Charlie when I saw his wife's name "Margaret."

But most shocking to me was that the five page document--witnessed, notarized and signed with his "X" contains extensive details of Charlie's service alongside his owner James (Jim) Cannon in the 154th Tennessee Infantry Regiment Company B of the Confederate Army.

Yes, y'all, my great-great grandfather, a former slave by the name of Charles Cannon served in the Confederate Army and two years before his death in 1929, drew a pension for his service. Truth is, indeed, stranger than fiction sometimes, ain't it?! (LOL).

What do I make of Charlie Cannon's service in the Confederate Army? Well, he was a SLAVE owned by a one James Cannon. To be honest, I don't really think poor Charlie had a choice in the matter, one way or the other. In any case, I do know his application for a pension in 1927 was based on absolute need. The application records his and Margaret's combined yearly gross income as one hundred dollars and their two room box house, which was situtated on a half acre of land had an assessed value of two hundred dollars.

So, are there any other weekend genealogist out there? If so, how far back can you trace your ancestors? Have you collected any oral histories? If not, what are you waiting for? (smile)

IN PRAISE OF GOOD BLACK FATHERS . . . A Few Comments & A Call For Submissions . . .

Recently, while reflecting on "Carl" the male protagonist in my novel, After The Dance, I drew up a list of some of his more positive traits. The list included some of the following descriptions:

1) He's an old school romantic -- he draws a considerable amount of pleasure from love songs and slow dances;

2) He's hard-working -- he juggles a 9-5 at FedEx and a part-time handyman gig;

3) He's smart and goal-oriented -- he takes night classes & is working toward an MBA;

4) He's silly & fun-loving -- he appreciates the humor in life and isn't too proud or uptight to make a fool of himself every now and then;

5) He's a good father -- his children are, without a doubt, his pride and joy.

Of all the traits on my list, I think the last one may, ultimately, prove the most intriguing to many readers. In After The Dance, I paint a portrait of an adult Black male who not only provides for his children, but also plays and prays with them too. When was the last time you read about a brother like that? Much less saw one on television or at the movies?

There are some in the media, Hollywood, the publishing world, the music industry, society in general, and heck, even within the African American community who would have us believe the type of Black man I just described doesn't even exist. I know better. And as the saying goes, it's never a bad idea to "write what you know." (smile)

So for the most part, that's what I did in After The Dance. I wrote about Black men (and women) who though flawed and at times guilty of outrageous, if not down-right morally reprehensible behavior, are still basically good at heart, capable of seeing the error of their ways and open to changing for the better.

I come from a family full of men like my protagonist, Carl. Though not "perfect" by any means, most of them were/are hard-working, God-fearing, loving and devoted to their families. I'm also proud to say I come from several generations of Southern, working-class, but largely "intact" Black families. I grew up in a household with a Black father. My father lived in a household with a Black father. I grew up knowing both of my African American grandfathers. My own father grew up knowing both of his African American grandfathers, both of whom lived within walking distance of him and his siblings.

My grandfather and his children on an outing. My father is the babyboy seated on the bench. (From Lori's Picture Collection)

No, my father didn't come from Black middle-class, college-educated people. He came from Black Southern farmers and laborers, who though "land-rich" were by most standards "dirt poor." But the way some folks talk, people like me ought to somehow feel guilty about our so-called "privileged" upbringing. Well, forgive me, but I don't . . . not in the least.

My grandfather (mother's side) and my son.

(From Lori's Picture Collection)

What I do feel, I'm not ashamed to say, is special . . . thanks in large part to the presence of a loving, caring and supportive Black father (as well as a couple of grandfathers, a bunch of uncles and a slew of male cousins) in my life.

My Dad and my son. (From Lori's Picture Collection)

If you have a "poignant" story about a Black father you'd like to share, The Five Sisters Publishing Company out of Sacramento, California is looking for essays (350-1500 words) for their "Father's Project." The deadline is November 15, 2007. Authors of selected stories will receive a $25.00 honorarium, a copy of the book and a byline. Check out the following link "Our Black Fathers" for more information.

MORE SOUTHERN EBONICS . . . WHAT Y'ALL TALKING 'BOUT?

The following are my definitions of the words and phrases I mentioned in a previous post. So when my novel After The Dance hits the shelves in April of 2008, don't forget you already have a reference guide here at the Old School Mix (smile).

1) bourgie: a less than flattering way of describing the middle-class; derives from the word "bourgeois."

2) chillren / chilluns: children

3) Christmas gift: a friendly Christmas greeting, like "Merry Christmas." The hubby swore only the old folks in my family used this particular expression until I showed him this reference in the Dictionary of American Regional English.

4) deef: deaf

5) haint: a ghost

6) hainty / haintey: stuck-up; haughty; uppitty

7) hey: hi; hello; how are you?

8) holped: helped (a couple of weeks ago, the hubby came home all excited about an NPR program he'd heard in which the word "holped" was actually discussed **LOL**)

9) knee baby: the next to the last child

10) main / mane: how many Black males in Memphis commonly pronounce the word "man"; this was one of the few things Brewer got right in the movie "Hustle & Flow."

11) mama 'nem: mama and them; one's relatives

12) mannish: a boy who isn't yet an adult, but who acts like one

13) roguish: bad; mischievous

14) sadiddy / saditty: stuck-up; self-righteous; arrogant

15) scound-bugga: a soundrel

16) sho' nuff: sure enough; also this is quite frequently used as a question or a version of the word "really" (Sho'nuff, girl?)

17) slobbed: slobbered

18) Sunday week: To be honest, I still don't know what this means (LOL). It refers to either this coming Sunday or the next.

19) trifling: shiftless; lazy; shady; no good

20) you (s) a tale/tail: you're a liar; you're lying

I appreciate all those who commented on the previous post. You all aren't as bourgie and sadiddy as I thought you were (smile). Seriously, thanks for sharing. I even learned a couple of new words and as we all know knowledge is truly power.

SOUTHERN EBONICS 101 . . . OUR COLORFUL LANGUAGE . . .

In my previous post, my good friend and Memphis "Go-To-Guy" (MR) expressed a bit of amusement at my use of the term "mama 'nem." Likewise, in another post, my use of the phrase "ripping and running" caught the attention of my Detroit-based internet pal, Malcolm (of Malcolm's Pop Culture Dish). I'd dare say, by now most regular readers of the OLD SCHOOL MIX have noticed my indulgence and delight in the "colorfulness" of the Southern Black vernacular. While I am quite capable of expressing myself in the "King's English," whenever I can get away with it, I generally opt to go another route.

There have been occasions in the past when my word choices have proved slightly problematic, particularly for those readers (and listeners) unfamiliar with my Memphis brand of Southern Ebonics. So I thought it might be fun, if not somewhat educational, to post a list of words and phrases I've heard used by African Americans who hail from Memphis and/or the Mid-South tri-state area (specifically SW Tennessee, NW Mississippi & NE Arkansas).

Oh, I bet some of y'all thought all Black Southerners chewed up and spat out the language in much the same way, huh? Yeah, well, while some things carry over, there are quite a few regional differences. For instance, the folks from East Tennessee have more of a noticeable "twang" in their "thang" than those who hail from West Tennessee. On the other hand, a lot of Memphis folks are known for what my friend MW, a communications instructor, describes as a "mumble."

Anyway, let's get to the list. How many of the following words and/or phrases do you know? How many do you use? I'll give my own definitions and responses in a future post.

1) bourgie

2) chillren / chilluns

3) Christmas gift

4) deef

5) haint

6) hainty

7) hey

8) holped

9) knee baby

10) main / mane

11) Mama 'nem

12) mannish

13) rougish

14) sadiddy / saditty

15) scound-bugga

16) sho' nuff

17) slobbed

18) Sunday week

19) trifling

20) you (s) a tale / tail

WHAT I LIKE ABOUT . . . BARACK OBAMA . . .

What I like about Barack Hussein Obama extends beyond his charisma, his candidacy or his politics. I read his first book, Dreams From My Father: A Story of Race and Inheritance, well before he announced he was running for our nation's highest office. Matter of fact, I can remember saying in the book club in which I belonged at the time, "If there is to be a "Black" president in my lifetime, if will more than likely be Barack Obama."

My favorite section in Dreams From My Father is one entitled, "Origins." In it, Senator Obama speaks candidly about his family, his unique upbringing and his feelings about his racial/ethnic heritage. While writing about his college years, he mentioned a young woman he called, "Joyce." He described her as a "good-looking woman who had green eyes, pouty lips and honey-colored skin." He talked about the day he asked Joyce if, by any chance, she planned on attending the upcoming Black Students' Association meeting.

He said Joyce looked at him funny, shook her head and told him, "I'm not black. I'm multiracial." Then she went on to tell him about "her father, who happened to be Italian . . . and her mother who happened to be African and part French and part Native American and part something else." Then Joyce, who Obama described as being on the verge of tears at that point, went onto tell him that Black people were always trying to make her choose, while White people were willing to treat her as a person.

What Obama conclued about the experience, made me smile, if only because I've often thought/felt the same when I've encountered people like Joyce . . .

In Barack Obama's own words: "That was the problem with people like Joyce. They talked about the richness of their multicultural heritage and it sounded good, until you noticed that they avoided black people. It wasn't a matter of conscious choice, necessarily, just a matter of gravitational pull, the way integration always worked, a one-way street . . . Only white culture could be neutral and objective . . . Only white culture had individuals. And we, the half-breeds and the college-degreed, take a survey of the situation and think to ourselves, "Why should we get lumped in with the losers if we don't have to?" (From Dreams From My Father, pages 99-100)

In part, what I like about Senator Obama is that he appears to have made a conscious decision to cast his lot with those perceived as "the losers." It amuses me that so many (both Black and White) appear to take issue with Obama's choice to identify himself as an African American and align himself with the African American community. One has only to read his book, Dreams From My Father: A Story of Race and Inheritance to understand that Obama fully appreciates all of the various elements that helped make him who he is. In fact, I'd dare say, even more so than his African father, the book is about how his White, mid-western bred mother helped shape and influence his African American identity. I view how Barack Hussein Obama has elected to define himself as both an act of love and one of defiance.

For me, the real beauty of Obama is, one, that he readily and proudly embraces ALL that he is, as well as ALL to which he is connected--his White American mother, his Black African father, his White relatives from Kansas, his Black relatives from Kenya, his Indonesian step-father, his half-White, half-Indonesian sister, his South-Side of Chicago reared African American wife and their two little girls. And two, Obama steadfastly refuses to embrace a solely negative and stereotypical view of what it means to be Black . . . African American . . . or . . . a person of color.

(Written while listening to Lupe Fiasco's "Kick, Push"; "I Gotcha"; "He Say, She Say"; and "Day Dreamin'" from the cd entitled Lupe Fiasco's Food and Liquor).

AFRICAN AMERICANS & TENNIS . . . MORE QUOTES . . .

I subscribe to the NY Times online, but as of late, I've been much too busy to read them. While deleting some of the clutter in the mail box, I stop and read over some of the article titles in the Times Sunday Book Review, dated July 22, 2007. I noticed a review on a book entitled, CHARGING THE NET: A History of Blacks in Tennis from Althea Gibson and Arthur Ashe to the Williams Sisters.

The book, which is edited by Cecil Harris and Larryette Kyle-DeBose, consists of 65 interviews and presents an indepth look into the lives of Black tennis stars.

A couple of the quotes in the article, written by Toure, jumped out at me.

Leslie Allen, who participated in the sport in the 80's said the following: "I'd go to a tournament where the family wanted to house the No. 1 seed. But when that family found out that the No. 1 seed was me, then suddenly the housing disappeared."

The editors (Harris and Kyle-DeBose) made the following observations: "The unspoken but persistent vibe that you are not welcome, that others would be happier if you went away, a vibe that black tennis players have sensed on the main tour for decades, makes it difficult to find the rhythm and comfort zone needed to perform at your best."

I'm not a major follower of tennis, but this book sounds like one I'd enjoy reading. I was surprised by some of the details the article shared, particularly, as far as some of the personal difficulties faced by so many of the better known tennis stars. Also,I'm intrigued by the thought that so many African Americans, whose names I've never heard, not only played, but excelled in the sport (smile).

VENUS WILLIAMS . . . SOME FOOD FOR THOUGHT . . .

The following is yet another great quote I found in the July 23, 2007 issue of JET magazine. According to the article on page 9, after her recent Wimbeldon victory, Venus Williams said:

"I was really motivated because no one picked me to win. They didn't even say, 'She can't win.' They weren't even talking about me."

I, too, noticed the lack of attention Venus received before, after and during the competition. The news media almost seemed to take an "oh,well" view of this accomplished athlete. I'd like to say, I don't understand . . . but if I did, I'd be lying (smile).

If Tiger Woods goes out on the golf course and breaks a nail, it's deemed a newsworthy item of the highest order. If Tiger were a Black woman (not that he has ever considered himself a Black man, of course *smile*) would he warrant the same kind of attention? Probably not.

I'll even go a step further and say, he most certainly WOULD NOT were he a dark-skinned Black woman. Yeah, I said it. Meant it too (smile).

No, racism, sexism and the "invisibility" of Black women is/are hardly anything new. Sojourner Truth's "Ain't I a Woman?" refrain is just as pertinent today as it was when she first uttered it back in 1851

I can only hope and pray that one day we'll stop being in denial about the "isms" that we've all internalized and that influence how we see or choose not to see certain people . . . and one another.

So, what are your thoughts on the subject?

QUOTES THAT MAKE YOU GO . . . HMMM . . .

I'm on the road and doing a lot of miscellaneous reading (Jet, Essence and the like). In the July 23rd issue of JET, I ran across several interesting quotes. The following has to do with a movie I've been thinking about seeing-- "Talk To Me." The movie is about an ex-con turned deejay and the program director who gives him a break. Even though the film has a lot going for it--including actors, Don Cheadle and Chiwetel Ejiofor as well as director Kasi Lemmons, the reviews I've read have been mixed. But the following comment made by the screenwriter Michael Grant really made me stop and think.

"What I found in telling their story was that there is a love shared between Black men that we almost never hear tell of. You won't find it defined in any text books or dictionaries, yet it exists."

I think, for the most part, what Mr. Grant said is true. And I'd love to see more movies deal with this topic. But right off hand, I can think of at least one other movie that did a fairly decent job of dealing with the love that exists been Black men who aren't biologically-related--"Boys In The Hood."

Have there been others? If you've seen the movie, do you agree or disagree with the screenwriter's statement?

POP CULTURE MUSINGS . . . OLD SCHOOL MIX STYLE . . .

1) Am I the only one who agrees with J. Anthony Brown (of Tom Joyner fame) that most of today's young, female R & B singers sound (and often look) like roosters on crack?

2) Am I the only one who finds it ironic (if not highly questionable and wrong) that the only two couples on Grey's Anatomy who are NEVER seen getting any play are the two, married African American couples?

3) Does anyone besides me ever wonder why there aren't more brothers (African Amercian males), who can actually sing (like a Reuben Studdard) making it into the early (much less the final) rounds of American Idol?

4) Is anyone besides me cheering the August 7th release of Soul Food - The Second Season on dvd! Dag, it's about time . . .

5) Am I the only one who thinks both R. Kelly and Avant look like they ought to be wearing some really thick a$$ prescription glasses?

6) Am I the only one who prays the Queen of Soul (Aretha) never suffers a Janet Jackson-like wardrobe malfunction?

7) Does anyone besides me think the rapper T.I. puts you in mind of a light-skinned Rakim (from Eric B. and Rakim fame)?

8) Does anyone besides me think Prince has gotten prettier (better looking) with age?

9) Am I the only one who wonders what Al Sharpton, Verdine White, Nick Simpson, Michael Jackson and his royal badness, Prince, would look like without a perm?

10) Am I the only one who has found herself being threatened with bodily harm (and by a relative, no less) when I merely pointed out that quite often when Mary J. sings live, she sounds flat and off key?

11) Does anyone besides me pray that Lauryn Hill gets it together and comes back out strong?

12) Does anyone besides me think "blue-eyed" R & B singers from back in the day like Tina Marie, Jon B., Lisa Stansfield and hell, even Boz Scaggs and the Hall & Oates sounded way more soulful and authentic than folks like Joss S., Justin T. and Amy W.? I mean, come on now, I'm just saying . . .

Anyway . . . what do you think? (smile)

COLTRANE . . . A Few Kernals of Truth About Gifts and Genius . . .

A couple of nights ago, I started listening to John Coltrane Gold, a cd that showcases the music of jazz saxophonist, John Coltrane. Thanks to my Dad, I grew up listening to Coltrane and a number of other jazz greats. It's only been in recent years though that I've become genuinely interested in learning about the man and the artist behind the sax and the unique sound.

In the liner notes of John Coltrane Gold, the writer Ashley Kahn (author of several books on jazz, including The House That Trane Built: The Story of Impulse Records, 2006) lists three facts that might not be commonly known about John Coltrane. Embedded within the three statements, I think, are kernals of truth worthy of a deeper contemplation, especially by those of us who call ourselves "artists" as well as those who express a desire to one day do so. The following are Ashley Kahn's three points in reverse order and my own feelings and comments about them.

3)"Coltrane was (musically) a late bloomer."

I think it helps to know that Coltrane didn't jump out the box and immediately start blowing folks away with gems like, "Giant Steps" and "A Love Supreme." Not only did his ascent to greatness begin later in life than some, he suffered many a set back along the way--most notably a drug habit that led to his being kicked out of Miles Davis's band.

While we live in a society that prefers to herald the over-night sensations, and is currently tailored toward the "talents" of the young, blonde, dumb, rich and anorexic, it isn't uncommon for destinations like "genius" and "legend" and "phenomenon" to start later and further back on the long, winding road of life. Michael Jordan got cut from the basketball team as a sophomore in high school. Dr. Benjamin Carson was 36 (not 26) when he performed the first successful separation of Siamese Twins joined at the back of the head. Albert Einstein was 4 years olf before he learned to speak. Toni Morrison was 39 when her first novel, The Bluest Eye, was published and was 57 when she received the Pulitzer Prize. The list goes on . . .

2)"Coltrane was a tireless experimenter. But he was not one who discarded the old for the new."

In the world of jazz, there is a concept known as the "riff." A riff is a form of improvisation. It's when one musician borrows and builds upon the musical phraseology of another. It's about taking someing old and making it sound new. Jazz is all about the riff. Hip-Hop, with all of its borrowed and outright stolen samples ain't nothing but some riff mixed in with a whole lot of raff (LOL). In all seriousness, Ashley Kahn states in the Coltrane Gold liner notes that many of the techniques folks consider so avant-garde are things Trane picked put during his early days of playing the blues and frequenting the bars in Philly.

In order to buck a tradition, I think it helps to know it first. Coltrane not only acknowledged and respected what came before him, he incorporated much of it into his own style. Too many in today's world, artists and non-artist alike want to dismiss everything that came before them as old, outdated and therefore, useless. Mention something like the African Amercian "oral tradition" and a number of folks will assume you're talking about something sexual (LOL). That's unfortunate. A knowledge of history and culture and an appreciation for the achievements of one's predecessors (and contemporaries), can nourish, strengthen and empower one's work. Why cheat yourself of a foundation that is yours for the taking?

1)"Coltrane was not a musical prodigy. What he achieved, he did with a workman's sense of duty and an almost obsessive dedication."

I love that statement, if only because it suggests that Coltrane's "genius" grew out of his commitment to working on his craft and honing his skills. His wife Namia reportedly said that often times after coming home from a gig, "Trane would practice till he fell asleep with the horn in his mouth." (from Ashley Kahn's liner notes, John Coltrane Gold, 2006)

The level of intensity and commitment exemplified by Coltrane's behavior is, for all too many, a foreign concept. I've stopped counting the number of folks who insist they want to be published, but who subsequently excuse their apparent lack of discipline and productivity with some version of, "Well, you know, I can only write when I'm inspired."

Even when I don't come right out and say it, I'm generally thinking, "Honey, forget about being inspired. What you want to be . . . No, what you NEED to be is DRIVEN. You've got to want to do this thing so bad that there are no plausible excuses for not doing what you know, by right, you ought to be doing. A person who is DRIVEN will FIND the time. The man or woman who is truly DRIVEN will DISCIPLINE him or herself."

As far as gifts are concerned, while I do believe the "desire" to create is truly a gift from God. I also believe whether that gift flowers, flounders or simply fades away is entirely up to and contingent upon the efforts of the individual. More often than not, "genius" (unlike salvation and most certainly not to be confused with such) is a gift that is earned.

* * *

Disclaimer: I try not to give too much advice about writing. First of all, I have no educational background or formal training in English/Lit. Matter of fact, I'm fairly hellbent on breaking as many of the "rules" as I possibly can, while still being somewhat coherent. Second, until I actually have a book or two on the shelves, I think it would be wise to refrain from instructing others on what it takes to achieve such (smile).

AKON . . . PRINCE . . . AND THE CONCEPT OF RESPONSIBILITY . . .

I caught an interview with Prince on BETJ last week. At one point, the interviewer told Prince how much he enjoyed the song, "Dirty Mind." He asked if Prince would be performing the song in his up coming tour or any of the other risque material for which he's known.

Prince smiled and asked the interviewer what he thought Prince should do. The guy said, in so many words, "Hey, go for it." Prince said, "Well what should I do about the 14 year old who's sitting in the front row?

The interviewer said, "Well, you never thought about the 14 year old back in the 80's . . ." To which Prince responded, "No, back then, there were no 14 year olds seated in the front row. Besides, I'd like to think that I've grown and I'm more responsible than I was back then . . ."

Responsibility? Wow, what an interesting coincidence. Not only did my last post on "The Death Of Hip Hop" address the topic of artistic and collective responsibility, the post was written in the hours prior to my viewing of the Prince interview.

So what does any of this have to do with the singer Akon? Well, there is that picture of him and the alleged 14 year old girl currently making the internet rounds. You know, the one with him on stage on his back and babygirl sitting atop his thighs? Yeah, even if you haven't seen it, you get the picture, I'm sure.

Anyway, I've heard all of the excuses. How was he supposed to know how old she was? Her little fast tail didn't have any business there in the first place. Did you see how she was dressed? And where were her parents?

Spare me, please. After all is said and done, she's still 14 years old (allegedly) and at age 34 (I believe) Akon is still a grown azz man. Perhaps one good place to start would be not pulling anyone up on stage for the purpose of simulating sex. Since when is strip club behavior appropriate for a concert? I guess around about the time we all decided any and everything goes, huh? I'm pretty sure, at this rate and given the direction things are going, actual sex on stage will be next. And after that, what? Publicly relieving oneself on folks' children? Oh, I'm sorry I guess R. Kelley already did that . . . allegedly (smile).

Prince, His Royal Badness personified, is right. Back in the 80's, I had the pleasure of attending a couple of his concerts and I can personally vouch for what he said about 14 year olds not sitting up front row center of his shows. They weren't. They shouldn't be at Akon's either--not front row center (under the circumstances) and most certainly not up stage straddling his 34 year old thighs. If we were all committed to being responsible, they wouldn't be.

But if we truly want this kind of foolishness to end, we can't just stop at blaming the parents, much less the child. And at age 14, I don't care how she's dressed, she's still a child. It takes a village y'all. So stop co-signing this mess and act like you know.

CLINTON, LEADERSHIP, ADORATION & BLACK FOLKS (A Few Reflections via Randall Robinson)

Bill Clinton He purchased our affection with gestures . . ."our support should not be so easily obtainable." (Randall Robinson)

Randall Robinson is somone whose work I've been intending to read for years now. I remember watching an interview with him on some cable network, shortly after his book, THE RECKONING: WHAT BLACK FOLKS OWE EACH OTHER (2002) was released. Quite a few of his thoughts and relections made me stop, think and go, "Hmmm."

Recently, while cleaning out a folder, I ran across a scrap of paper on which I'd scribbled a few of the sentiments Robinson had expressed on that particular program. Robinson's comment about Clinton (see above) struck me, not only because it was a view I shared, but also because I hadn't heard any other African American liberal or moderate, worthy of respect, express such. My notes on the Robinson interveiw also included the following two gems:

Leadership "Leaders are assigned for the convenience of people who dominate you."

Adoration "The school teacher we don't respect like we used to--the wealthy bandit, we adore."

Robinson's view on adoration is one that has serious implications, I think, not only in the world of politics, but also, increasingly, in the field of entertainment. But then again, I guess that really should come as no surprise. Historicially and across the board Americans appear to have a warped fascination with outlaws, gangsters and thugs.

From yesteryears' large than life Jesse James, Billy the Kid, Bonnie and Clyde and Al Capone to today's John Gotti, and his fiction-drawn cronies, Tony Montana (Scarface) and Tony Soprano we do seem to love us some ruthless, money-grubbing bad boys and gals. And don't let me forget all of the pimps and drug-dealers, the rouge preachers and politicians and the thieving CEO's who've taken up the mantle and become the real American Idols. Yeah, there's some thug-love out there, for real y'all . . .

But anyway, the following are a couple of other books by Randall Robinson that I hope to read one day and may, perhaps, be of some interest to some of you:

THE DEBT: WHAT AMERICA OWES TO BLACKS (2001) and

QUITTING AMERICA: THE DEPARTURE OF A BLACK MAN FROM HIS NATIVE LAND (Reprint 2004).

If you've read any of Mr. Robinson's books, feel free to express your opinion (whether good or bad) about what you read in the OSM's comment section. Also if you agree or disagree with his reflections about Clintion, leadership and/or adoration, please don't hesitate to share your views.

CHARLES BURNETT . . . KILLER OF SHEEP

Charles Burnett is an extraordinary filmmaker. I was first introduced to his work via, "To Sleep With Anger" which is one of my all-time favorite flicks. I've also had the pleasure of viewing Burnett's critically acclaimed and award-winning "Killer of Sheep." As a matter of fact, if I might be permitted to brag, I personally helped bring that movie to Memphis in the early 90's . . . but more on that in a moment (smile).

"Killer of Sheep" was Burnett's graduate student thesis film at UCLA. The film, which casts a harsh spotlight on life in Watts during the early 70's, has been deemed a national treasure by the Library of Congress and the National Society of Film Critcs called it one of the 100 essential films of all time.

Unfortunately, due to legal problems with music rights and the film's poor print quality, "Killer of Sheep" was never seen by a wide audience. But all of that is about to change, thanks in part to Milestone Film & Video. Not only is the movie being released in theaters, but it will soon be availabe on DVD.

My personal connection? Back in the early 90's, I was asked to help organize a Black film festival for the Memphis & Shelby County Public Library System as part of the library's programming for Black History month. The festival was free and the movies were screened on a one-night only basis at the Circuit Playhouse. I am proud to say that Charles Burnett's "The Killer of Sheep" (1977) was the feature film I selected for the event and the turn-out exceeded expectations. The other two short films were "Illusions" (1983) by Julie Dash and "Hair Piece: A Film For Nappy-Headed People" (1985) by Ayoka Chenzira.

In case you're wondering, that last film "Hair Piece" is an animated flick and one that a lot of folks, Imus among them, could probably benefit from seeing right about now (LOL). Seriously though, I'm loving forward to seeing Burnett's "Killer of Sheep" again and I can only hope that the DVD will include commentary from the filmmaker.

If you're interested in seeing if "Killer of Sheep" is scheduled to appear at a theatre in your city (or one near you), this site contains a list of dates for screening locations and other information about the movie and its maker.

THE DEATH OF HIP HOP . . . PART III (Notes & Comments On The Hearse Ride To The Cemetery)

SIGH . . . The other night, I watched the 2nd half of Oprah's "After Imus: Now What?" town hall discussion. All I can do is shake my head. It truly saddens me to see & hear so many smart & talented Blk men speak & act as if they were in complete denial about a phenomenon that adversely affects so many of us.

For the most part, these men, all of whom are in positions of leadership, came across as a bunch of belligerent, whiney, 3 year-olds. Okay, here's a clue. When a grown azz Blk woman says, "Listening to rap artists call me and folks who look like me (be they nappy-headed or not) all kinds of bitches and ho's 24/7 is both insulting and demeaning," the proper response from a grown azz Blk man ought not be, "Uh-uh! No, it ain't! You're not the boss of me!" Sheeesh . . .

Russell Simmons. I don't know brother. I think you are a brilliant business man. I love what you're doing with Def Poetry. But the statement you made about Hip Hop doing more for race relations than the entire civil rights movement is A BIG, FAT LIE, plain and simple. If you actually believe that mess you are either sadly deluded, incredibly mis-educated or a mad man. Yeah, I said it. Meant it too.

Something tells me both Mr. Simmons and Kevin Liles, the entertainment executive who appeared on the show, have both bought into their own hype and now want us all to drink the Kool-Aid. Mr. Liles went into what can only be described as the Black male version of the neck-swerve when Stanley Crouch used the word "clown" in reference to the folks reponsible for the distribution and perpetuation of this demeaning garbage. The brother's near hysterics would have been comical were the situation not so sad.

No, Mr. Liles you're not a clown . . . you, sir, are the freaking RING-MASTER if you are sitting up behind a desk somewhere ALLOWING this crap to go on, as the one sister said, ON YOUR WATCH. And your little speech about going from intern to executive, I mean really, what is that? Another tired version of the "don't hate the player, hate the game" type of ignorance? Just so you know, for what it's worth, that's like telling folks you went from being a two-bit street corner pimp to running a brothel. And hey, that just might impress some of the simple-minded folk you obvioulsy run with, I don't know.

Common, I ain't mad at you bro. Matter of fact, I'm jamming "The Food" from your cd "Be" as I type this. I understand and appreciate your desire to elevate the "game" and represent another side of the discussion. Like I've stated before, censorship isn't a bandwagon I'm fixing to jump on for NOBODY. I appreciate both the beauty and power of words. And within the proper context, I don't object to the use of even the most vile of them. Now, when they're repeated hurled as weapons and they're used to hurt, malign and defame, that's another story.

So, Common, all I ask is that if you're going to continue to ride with those other clowns and fools, try to steer them away from the gutter and the drainage ditches. And for heaven's sake, if you see that those jokers are about to ride off a cliff or down some other street of no return, step off and tell 'em "later." Keep in mind, "thug solidarity" is what killed Tupac. Ain't no need of you going out like that. And oh, for the record, a lot of sisters, elders and quite a few brothers too have been trying to critique y'all in a spirit of love, but the knuckle-heads and puppet-masters in your crew ain't been trying to hear it. So, now we got to go summon up the ghosts of John Henry, Harriet Tubman and 'Nem and come back at 'em with the Hammer.

So, if nothing else, try to stay true to your own verses Common. Like you say in Chi-City" ... "it's a war going on . . . you can't fake being a soldier" and what's that you and Kanye say in "The Food" . . . "I know I . . . I could make it right, if I could just swallow my pride . . ." That's right C, keep "writing FREEDOM songs for the Real People."

Ben Chavis. I'm disappointed. But then again, maybe I ought not be. Didn't he get run out of the NAACP for improprieties with women? I'd hate to think this was yet another case of the Blind, trying to lead the Blind. But when you KNOW BETTER, aren't you supposed to DO BETTER? Yeah, I guess that's just another one of those things I learned back in the day that folks obvioulsy don't believe in any more.

Henry Louis Gates? Wait, wasn't he one of the chief defenders of the misogynistic filth being spewed by the likes of 2 Live Crew back in the early 90's? Please. With all due respect, he's a part of the problem. An academic hustle, is a hustle, none-the-less.

The only brother who really represented and came correct on Oprah's show yesterday was the attorney, Londell McMillan, the young man who said he'd represented a lot of the rap artists from Lil Kim to Kanye West and all those folks in-between. Big Ups to this brother for his poise, his leadership and his clarity.

Mr. McMillan said there were a lot of responsible parties who needed to be called to the table and held accountable for the misogyny and demeaning imagery in Hip Hop, among them the rappers themselves, producers, label heads, artistic development folks, consumers and radio stations. He dismissed this "oh, but they're poverty stricken and don't know any better" line of bull Simmons and Liles were trying to pitch. Like we don't know some of the worst of these fools come from middle class backgrounds . . .

Anyway, Mr. McMillan mentioned how some artists feel boxed in, obliged and are often aggressively encouraged to go the whole, "nigga, bitch, ho" route in their music. What's that I hear? The resounding echo of a "Whoop, There It Is!" Tell 'em 'bout it LM. In the Good Old USA, money is always the bottom-line. ain't it? The entertainment industry heads have latched onto this whack-azz formula and as long as it's fattening their wallets, they're not about to let it go without a fight.

Mr. Simmons, Mr. Liles and Mr. Chavis . . . it's not about hating Hip Hop. A lot of us love Hip Hop, we're just ready for all the blood-letting, name-calling, half-naked boot-shaking, stripper club behavior, pimping and thuggery to be over and done with. We're just tired of all the lame azz excuses and historically incorrect rationales for why it's okay for Blk men to call Blk women out of their names.

We're just tired of mourning what really and truly could have been a beautiful thing had not a bunch of greedy, opportunistic hustlers been allowed to muck it up. HELL, We're Just Tired . . . SIGH . . .

THE DEATH OF HIP HOP . . . PART II (Musical Selections) . . .

For Part I (The Eulogy) see previous post

Before any final, closing remarks, I have several musical selections I'd like to propose for The OSM's Hip Hop Home-Going. I mean really, what's a funeral without music, right?

Anyway, for the opening selection I suggest a duet, let's say, Pete Rock and C.L. Smooth's "They Reminisce Over You."

Perhaps we could follow that with a solo by India Aire. Oh yeah, you know it's got to be "I Am Not My Hair."

Then perhaps we ought to throw in something by the heavily sampled Godfather of Soul. I'm thinking JB's, "Say It Loud (I'm Black and I'm Proud)."

Well, before the last viewing of the body, how 'bout we turn the party out with some of Heavy D & The Boyz' "Nuttin' But Love."

Then to end on a proper note, I'm think we oughta totally flip the script and do something more traditional. I'd dare say, The Wynton Marsalis' Septet's "Recessional" (from "In This House, On This Morning") would be most approriate for our final hymn.

Would do you think? I mean, beside the fact that I'm tripping (smile). Do you like my choices or would you have opted for something different? Feel free to share your suggestions and comments . . . just remember to keep them brief because we've got to hurry up and bury this bad boy.

THE DEATH OF HIP-HOP . . . PART I (The Eulogy)

The ball park is not my favorite place to spend a Sunday afternoon. But thanks to my son's interest in baseball, that's exactly where I found myself several Sundays ago. The unseasonable nip in the air had me sitting in the car with the Sunday paper rather than somewhere out on a bleacher feigning interest in the action on the field. Of course, had it been something other than a practice, I would have most certainly been out there shivering and cheering alongside all of the other little league parents. . .

So, I'm seated in the my car with the two front passenger windows barely open an inch when I hear it . . . the loud, repeative thump of a hip hop beat. Make no mistake, as an African American woman who attended an historically Black college in a predominately Black city during the 80's, I've loved hip-hop and rap since it first hit the scene with folks like Curtis Blow, Grand Master Flash and the Furious Five and broke into the 9o's with the likes of Doug E. Fresh, Brand Nubian, Big Daddy Kane, Eric. B and Rakim, MC Lyte, Queen Latifah, De La Soul, A Tribe Called Quest. . . you know, all the folks now considered "old school."

But this song, the loud, repeatively thumping one I hear while I'm seated in my car, in the park, on a Sunday afternoon with my windows rolled durn near all the way up ain't nothing like the fun-loving, playful, braggadocious or even the socically-conscious and politically-infused music I bumped, jammed and used to hear coming from La-dee, Da-dee and some of everybody's boom box back in the day. No, this particular song apparently has only one lyric and that's the socially unredemptive "mother-f$%&er . . . mother-f$%&er . . . mother-f$%&er."

Okay. So, I sit there with my teeth rattling from the mind-numbing bass as the loud music draws closer and I think to myself, "Surely, there isn't really a song out there called 'mother-f$%&er?' is there? And if so, why on earth would anybody in their right mind want to listen to it THAT LOUD . . . much less ride up in a park and treat everybody else to it on a Sunday afternoon?

I watch from my rear-view mirror as the car with the over-powering bass and the offensive music finally pulls to a stop and four laughing, loud-talking African American youths spill out. They look like young men in their late teens or possibly their early twenties. For a moment, I think perhaps they've come to the park, like my own young son, in order to spend some time working on their swing and their ball-handling skills. I think perhaps, in a moment they will turn off the music and restore the peace of the ballpark that on that Sunday afternoon is filled primarily with women, children, young families and older couples.

But no, after changing out of their long, over-sized t-shirts and into other long, over-sized t's in the middle of the parking lot, these young brothers show off dance steps, laugh and rough-house and all while engaging in a conversation loud enough to be heard over the delightful sounds of the tune, 'mother-f$%&er' which is still thumping away in the background . . . a conversation loud enough to be heard several yards away and in a car with the windows barely cracked . . . a conversation riddled with the same word that got Michael Richards in so much trouble not so long ago. Really, I kid you not, every other word is, "nigga this, nigga that . . . nigga, nigga, nigga." Matter of fact, as loud as they're speaking, "nigga" is the only word clearly distinguishable in their entire conversation.

Unlike some, I don't believe in banning words or censoring music. As one who loves art and appreciates the freedom of self-expression, that's hardly a bandwagon I'm about to jump on. But nor do I believe it's necessary to disrupt the peace and quiet of a park filled with women and children and old folks on a Sunday afternoon or any other afternoon for that matter with a loud litany of "niggas" and a trifling chorus of "mother-f$%&ers." Come on . . . has it really come to that? Do we really not know or want to do any better?

According to Nas, "Hip-Hop Is Dead." According to some others, the rappers from the Dirty South should be held responsible for having killed it. Please. If in fact, Hip-Hop is dead, the primary thing that killed it is/was that always potentially lethal, and all-too American combination of ignorance and greed . . . a combination in which for far too long many us have either collectively reveled, or else have avoided openly critiquing.

"Hip Hop is Dead?" Wow, what a stunning revelation. It ain't like hip hop hasn't been stinking to high heaven and spinning in it's own rot for years now. Had we any real respect for ourselves, much less the dead, we would have closed the casket and buried the corpse a long time ago.