Mindful Monday: Liberty and Justice For All

Liberty and Justice For All

On the heels of the horrific shooting in Newtown, CT, we have seen a number of people, famous and otherwise, politicizing the tragedy and making certain religious assertions. While I understand the need to use this issue as a lightning rod to affect change, the focus right now should be on the kids both in Newtown and around the country. Gun control debates aside, there is a meme that has been floating around that captures the kind of religious assertion that I find disturbing.

Lets start with some facts. The Establishment Clause of the First Amendment of the Constitution has generally been interpreted to prohibit 1) the establishment of a national religion by Congress, or the preference of one religion over another by the U.S. government. In the 1963 ruling that combined two cases, the Supreme Court determined that prayers written for public school use by the States were unconstitutional, and that the required recitation of the Lord’s Prayer or daily Bible readings violated the Establishment Clause. (see Abington Township School District v. Schempp and Murray v. Curlett) This effectively ended all prayers in schools, not just Christian prayer--albeit the majority of prayer going on in school was Christian. 

This is often misinterpreted as a rebuke of God by general society and to stifle religious rights.These sentiments, however, are without basis and present a skewed argument.  How fair is it to the young Hindu child to require a recitation of the Lord’s Prayer in class? If you are not Muslim and your child had to pause five times a day face the east and recite the Fajr, Ruhr, Asr, Maghrib and Ishaa, I would assume that you would not  take very kindly to this form of force. 

The ruling was an attempt to make our public schools and our country more accepting of all systems of belief. This absurd idea that God somehow allows these tragedies to happen because he is “not allowed” in our public schools, implicates both immaturity and ignorance. If that is the manner of the deity you serve, you might want to take stock of your moral and mental faculties. 

I firmly believe that all religious teachings and doctrine should be left out of public schools. I don’t expect my children’s teachers to raise my kids or to teach them what morals or practices I believe to be essential--that is my job as a parent. If you wish your child’s education to include religious doctrine there are Catholic schools and Christian academies for exactly that purpose. Public schools are just that, for the public. Last I checked, the general public consisted of a myriad of demographics with different needs, standards, and practices. What people are failing to grasp about this is that America is a free country, it is a great country, and it is a country based on the idea that its diverse population can exercise individual rights without infringing upon the rights of others.

As a Connecticut native with young family members in the area, this tragedy hit especially close to home for me. I would like to extend my deepest condolences to the families affected.  Our thoughts and prayers are with you.

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The Most Important Job I'll Ever Have: The Parent I Hope to Be

*sighs* I adore these two.

Recently, while perusing my often unenlightening Facebook account, I was elated to come across an amazing statement by one my favorite people ever: Jada Pinkett Smith. Her statement was in reference to "letting" Willow cut her hair:  

“This subject is old but I have never answered it in its entirety.And even with this post it will remain incomplete. The question why I would LET Willow cut her hair. First the LET must be challenged. This is a world where women, girls are constantly reminded that they don’t belong to themselves; that their bodies are not their own, nor their power or self determination. I made a promise to endow my little girl with the power to always know that her body,spirit and her mind are HER domain. Willow cut her hair because her beauty, her value, her worth is not measured by the length of her hair. It’s also a statement that claims that even little girls have the RIGHT to own themselves and should not be a slave to even their mother’s deepest insecurities, hopes and desires. Even little girls should not be a slave to the preconceived ideas of what a culture believes a little girl should be.”

As many of you may have heard, the Smiths areoften criticized and questioned about the methods they use in parenting theirchildren, and while many will argue their parenting style may be a bitunorthodox, I don't think their methods are unorthodox at all. 

After reading her response, I immediately began thinking about how important it is not only for our little girls, but for our little boys to know where their worth lies and where it most certainly does not. I also began to think about my childhood and some of my own freedoms I had while growing up and how thankful I am to my parents for allowing me to have them. By no stretch of the imagination were we rich or privileged by any means,but my parents made sure that I was exposed to so many things (people, ideas,experiences, etc.) - which ultimately played a major role in how I developed and how I now see and process the world.

Like the Smiths (and my parents), I hope to expose my children to everything. I want to be their first source of validation; ingraining this into their minds from the time that they are old enough to comprehend that they alone are enough. I want them to know their worth and have the freedom to express themselves and even in that, be able to stand by and live with whatever decisions they make in any area of their lives. It is my sincere prayer to raise children who are aware by creating a household where the search and acquisition of knowledge is not only encouraged, but also required. As a mother, I hope to have the courage that Jada (yes, I really believe it takes courage) has to truly embrace the idea and practice of allowing my children the freedom to find themselves and be the people they were meant to be; not what society suggests for them.

Nakia D.

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When Keeping It Real Goes Wrong: Captain Save-A-Ho (Family Edition)

The dust settles, the smoke clears, and you're left holding your proverbial dick in your hand. Nothing has changed for the better. You're in the same position and state you were when you decided to lend a helping hand you knew would be to your own detriment. You allow your inner voice to be muffled. Your own sense of peace is exchanged for the semblance of appreciation delivered to you in half-hearted thank yous, artificial declarations of contingent love, and, what you believe to be, the ability to sleep at night feeling as though you helped someone else. The only issue with that, though, is that your peaceful sleep is disrupted because, now, you're bitter, habitually rueful, and unable to progress. You've become the stepping-stone for everyone to accomplish their hopes and dreams--a springboard to catapult your loved ones to the next stage of their lives while you remain...stuck.

There's an old saying: "You can't pour from a pitcher that's empty." Despite my gross overuse of second person pronouns (I think it's a coping mechanism. I sometimes hate to think I'm in such a preventable situation), this article, as with most of my writing, is an open letter of sorts to myself first, then to others. Constant neglect of self in favor of the advancement of others only hurts you in the long run; loss of chances in life due to lack of available resources; loss of friendships and familial ties because of your inability to express yourself. This all stems from one place, though: pleasing others. That gnawing you get when you know someone isn't satisfied with a choice you've made. That nagging you feel when you know that you've made a decision that will benefit your life greatly, but MAY cause slight and, quite possibly, temporary discomfort to those around you. Therefore, you choose to forego your own contentment and go through that cycle once more, one that always ends in you throwing a solo pity party.

Ya'll are probably reading this and saying, "This negro has yet to use 'I' once. You're right. Let me associate myself closer with this issue.

The frequency in which I (y'all like that, don't you?) find myself in this situation is quite astonishing. Many friends and family have come into my life, gotten something from me, and moved upward. Whether it be with school, employment, relationships, or anything else, they stay winning and I remain black and underemployed.

In church, they tend to tell us that God has a way of getting your attention through the many different situations that he puts you in. I disagree in part. I believe God gives us many signs that we need to back the hell up and reevaluate some shit, yet we ignore. So, he/she/whatever you prefer to call it steps back and lets us put ourselves in situations that will get our own attention.

When I think back, one-hundred-percent of the conditions I'm in are self-inflicted and completely consequential of the choices I've made. We could get into the details of the way I was raised, how what I can do for others played an intricate role in the vision of my own self-worth, but that's for another time, and another article. This shit here; this is for the healed part of me that can now accept that my self-worth isn't in what I can provide to others in terms of material items, but more in the realm of the intangible.

Listen, now, Mother Vanzant can go on tangents and pull stuff out of that kid 'n play fade, but take a portion from the message she gives above. Without keeping yourself fully capable of supporting yourself, you're doing a disservice to the world.

I hope this penetrated your souls 'n shit. Be blessed.

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what i'd tell my daughter one day by Afua Asiamah-Adjei

[Contributor's Note: Below is a letter a sister-friend of mine wrote in 2008. I thought it'd be an appropriate summation of this week's articles bolstering fearlessness, communication, and transparency. But I could have never foreseen its relevance in the wake of today's tragedy which has befallen our brothers, sisters, and babies at Sandy Hook Elementary School. It's important to live and let live while we can...in abundance...and altruistically. - juh] 

what i'd tell my daughter one day.

by Afua Asiamah-Adjei 

If i ever have the opportunity to be a mother and give birth to a black girl-child, I'd write her the following letter and leave it in a box where she would be allowed to read it at 11.... the supposed dawn of puberty.

Dear daughter:

It was your great god-mother, Audre Lorde who had once said this in a letter she wrote and left for me in a collection of essays: "Black women are programmed to define ourselves within this male attention and to compete with each other for it, rather than to recognize it and move upon our common interests.....For so long, we have been encouraged to view each other with suspicion, as eternal competitors, or as the visible face of our own self-rejection." 

I pray you never worship self-proclaimed kings to the extent where you lose yourself, your soul and whatever is black and female....your sister's bond. 

I pray you never walk the earth a scorned woman who only sees vertical dreams while laying horizontal to catch them between your thighs. 

I pray you never weigh yourself down with emotional baggage of self-destruction as a broken heart rips through your chest and pierces your lungs, making it hard to breath with the pressures of what society wants you to feel as a woman...or perceives you to be as a black woman. 

I pray you never plot your own demise by selling yourself short, whether by only loving black men and not ALL men; or telling yourself that you can never fall in love with another woman. 

I pray you never get ugly with a vindictive streak used to slice the egos of other women, your sisters, in the spirit of jealousy over men who can never defecate stools of gold even if they tried. 

I pray you will experience the good fortune of loving another black woman, and not seeing her as a mere competitor or enemy, but as a part of you. 

I pray you will learn how to love as well as you've learned how to survive. Black mothers' gift to their children is survival; but my gift to you will be tenderness in which you can connect elements of the universe with a gift of grace, tolerance and self-love.

I pray you never let a man become the center of your pain upon which you project on your sisters. Not that another woman won't hurt you; but the primary reason why black women hate each other is due to competition to win the heart of a black man...the scarce "prize" they were socialized to believe in that never stays.... no matter how high he's elevated or how deep he is buried inside you.

Dear daughter, I pray you'll find yourself before society finds you and tell you who you should be as a black woman by implanting stones in your heart for you to throw at another black woman, the "said" source of your pain.

(you all should read A. Lorde.)

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But it Says Here...

“If I look up 'carrot' in the dictionary, most people will acknowledge I do not know all there is to know about carrots and if I truly want to understand carrots, I should probably pick up a horticultural text book. We know that legal and medical terms are going to be, at best, simplistically represented and know we need to find a lawyer or a doctor if we want to know more. Anyone deciding to base their argument on, say, a philosophical concept or term using the dictionary is going to be laughed at at best, or automatically lose whatever argument they’re trying to make at least.

Yet the minute we move into a social justice framework, the ultimate authority changes. We don’t need lived experience, we don’t need experts who have examined centuries of social disparities and discrimination, we don’t need societal context. We don’t need sociology or history – no, we have THE DICTIONARY! That ultimate tome of oracular insight, the last word on any debate!

It’s patently ridiculous and you can see that by applying it to any other field of knowledge. But the privileged will continually trot out simplistic, twitter-style dictionary definitions as if they are the last word and the ultimate authority. No-one would drag out the dictionary to debate science with a scientist. But they’re more than willing to trot out a dictionary definition of racism over any sociological analysis. A dictionary is not the ultimate authority - they’re a rough guide for you to discover the simple meaning of words you’ve never heard before – not an ultimate definition of what the word means and all its contexts.”

 - Sparky, Womanist Musings

 

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Tired of Living with Strangers? Us Too.

You all will find that I am an invested proponent of the "first person plural" voice. One reason may be my habitual use of it at work. As the assistant coordinator of  an after- school program, I've found that in a classroom setting, an all-inclusive voice is the most effective approach to universal classroom management. But beyond all of the cutesy shit, I believe the mere thought of sacrificing my comfort-zone, couched in my imagined cohort of peers, eliminates me having to assume my experiences as exclusively mine--ugh.

This, however, is not why you are here. So, onward.

I was introduced to the above conversation between Willow, Jada, and "Gammy" last May. Seven months after dissecting the first viewing, I am re-hashing my thoughts on this nearly effortless display of fearlessness by Willow. And I am reminded of just how compartmentalized I was as a child (and still am as an adult). Though my parents encouraged questioning and depth of thought in the academic arena, I was raised in a primarily "speak only when spoken to" household. This drove my intellectual, emotional, and social selves to become very isolated entities. As I grew intellectually with the aid of both parents and close family, I felt that reaching out to these same people for substantive matters would interfere with the near perfect image I'd settled into. I'd have been a fool to stir this  perception; inconsiderate to detract from the attention due to the more obviously needy children in the family; and overstepping boundaries in "trying to be too grown". My emotional development was, thus, a private, self-learned journey, mostly void of meaningful guidance and cues.

They thought I had it figured out. I didn't want to prove them otherwise. (And if it's not visible, who's volunteering to shine a light into the dark for it?) Despite having recently come into understanding  how all of "my parts" affect and interact with each other, it is still very important for me to constantly work through the damaging role feigned communication and emotional suppression have played in my life.

Is it possible that there is a very real fear of the truths that may surface (for better or worse) from building authentic, communication-based relationships with the people with which we share our lives? What would happen if we took the time to get to know our mothers, fathers, siblings, and cousins as well as we do those which we consider welcoming into our lives as significant others? (Or are we faking it there too?) How is the divide between the commitments of eros and agape so gaping?

Without a genuine interest in the overall well-being of another, there is no premise for any variation of healthy, sustainable love. How are we to ensure our role in this aspect if we have not invested time and some semblance of understanding the lives of our loved ones?

What happens when the familial ties are gone and we're left only with each other's messes in the way of everyone's progress? Will we still choose to co-habitate with familiar strangers even if it means haulting personal and collective progress?

It's (well past) high time I take a cue from my inner 11-year-old Willow-y self.

"Relationships are a journey...If we concentrate on how much we can love each other, we can overcome it all." - Jada Pinkett-Smith

           

- juh

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Mindful Monday: Dare to be Powerful!

(Well.. Doesn't she look free?!)

Fear.

It's a feeling we all encounter. Never failing to show us its face just as we prepare to make a huge leap in life, fear comes in and cripples us.  It makes us think we are less than, unworthy, and even wrong for daring to chase the very dreams and aspirations we've had our whole lives. It causes us to second guess, and often times, it is the reason we miss out on some of life's greatest rewards.

While preparing for today's (and my first)  'Mindful Monday' post, my mind immediately began to ponder about what topic I would choose to blog on. I wanted to present something meaningful, maybe inspirational, but definitely honest. Well honestly, it seems as though recently my fears have become more frequent than my confidence. Somewhere along the way, between making a slight career change and moving to a new city, I failed to keep the momentum going. Somehow, I arrived at a place of uncertainty because of the very real fear I have of entering 'the professional major league' (and failing miserably). However, this week I'm turning over a new leaf. No longer am I asking myself if I'm worthy, or if I'm good enough. I'm reclaiming the power I've always had and checking all fear at the door. So today, I choose to share with you all a personal challenge that I have decided to accept:

This week, I'm challenging myself (and all of you) to dare to be powerful by being fearless, in everything; by listening to and trusting your instincts, taking risks, and not letting possibly wonderful opportunities pass without going after them.

It is my sincere hope that each of you reading this post has had an amazing day; one that has set the tone for another week of productivity and pure awesomeness. If I may, allow me to leave you with one of my favorite quotes:

'When I dare to be powerful - to use my strength in the service of my vision, it becomes less and less important whether I am afraid.' - Audre Lorde

I will be... fearless.

Happy Monday, CCB!

Nakia D. 

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Writing Courses No Longer Needed In College? I Beg to Differ.

Hello CCB family and my fellow YBP’s! Monday is gone, Friday has arrived, and if you don’t mind I’m gonna sit back and let it all hang out (no seriously, these pants are tight). Friday is for the Eduratchet: the ones who find themselves quoting Marcus Garvey by day and singing Trinidad James by night. Don’t act like you’re not a functional ratchet.

My name is Marissa, I’m currently a junior in college, and I work at my university’s writing center. At times it can be dull, but I love working there. I believe writing is a fundamental, lifelong skill, and if I can help my colleagues strengthen their writing, in hopes that it will contribute to their success, I’m down. 

[Disclaimer: I’m not going to mention my school’s name at anytime throughout this article for various reasons. This being the case, if you know the school I attend, you might/might not be surprised by what lies ahead.]

This week I stopped into my supervisor’s office to see how she was doing.  After we chitchatted about family, school, and other aspects of life, I asked her what she has in store for the writing center. She proceeded to tell me at some point in time we’ll be visiting individual classes to teach writing because the university is getting rid of basic English courses.

Whoa dere. Hold up. Huh?

I had to make sure I understood her correctly.  So, with a confused look on my face I asked, “Are you saying that it’s not going to be mandatory for freshmen to take English composition?”

She replies, “Yes.  I’ve never seen this at any university.  They feel that other courses such as music, science, and psychology should have a writing component, and that’s where we come in. We will be teaching writing to the students instead of their teachers.”

Now, I feel some type of way about this. I feel this is tragic as hell.  Let me tell you why.

By the time a person comes to college, you would think they would be able to write a thorough, cohesive paper. Working in the writing center has led me to believe otherwise. You should see what I read sometimes. Some of these papers have no stop signs (periods) or speed bumps (commas). They just leave you speechless and breathless. Fragments, casual language, and lack of organization seem to be regulars. Last but not least, “If I see 1 more sentence like dis I will dye.”

You might think I’m over exaggerating—I’m not.

Now don’t get me wrong, there are students that are extraordinary writers.  I have encountered freshmen that have been greatly prepared to write at a higher level.  Still, there are still those who were not so fortunate. Poor public education, a lack of emphasis on education in the home, and/or a less than satisfying past experience in writing has left various students with poor grammar and writing mechanics. Another possible shortcoming from prior schooling could be attributed to some teachers and their lack of motivation in their students. There are too many instances where students are constantly being “passed through” the system, for the benefit of the faculty and overall passing rates of the institution. A mixture of inadequate public education, a lack of domestic influences on the value of education, and a teacher who accepts less than proficient writing assignments could be a lethal combination for a student experiencing their first year of collegiate writing.

 

Unlike many other colleges, my university lacks a writing component in its application process. This can be a good or a bad thing (good for the student and bad for the school).  Some people hate writing, and I can understand that. If I could get accepted into a school without having to stress over writing an annoying essay about myself, I’m applying! However, a person’s writing can tell it all.  To an admissions committee, not only are they learning a student’s personal story, they’re also judging their intellect.

I also understand that not everyone pops out the womb with a pencil and composition notebook.  Nevertheless, if the university has no way of measuring how well a student writes, I would think that an English composition class would be ideal. I mean, since they’ll be learning at a higher level, why not advance their writing skills as well.  

You might be asking yourself, “Is this/it even newsworthy?  Is this girl seriously going on a rant about writing and English classes?”  Yes it is and yes I am. I feel it’s important because writing is an essential concept that can make or break you in the “real world”.  It’s how people judge your intelligence.  It’s the basis for communication.  It’s an essential job skill, and if my HBCU (Historically Black College/University) decides to enact this new plan, we’re not taking steps to ensure that our students will become competent contenders upon graduation.

If other HBCUs and PWIs (Predominantly White Institutions) have writing components in their application process and teach English composition, their students might be performing at a higher caliber than a HBCU that has neither. I feel like something is wrong with this picture.  Why they gotta do us like that?

Are we moving toward a technology age where writing proficiently isn’t important anymore? Do you feel that it’s a high school’s job to prepare a student to write at a college level, instead of the college itself? Do you feel as though English courses were a waste of time in college or did they help? Let me know your thoughts. 

Ladies and gents, thanks for letting me let it all hang out.  You all enjoy your weekend.  Also, on a funny tip, here’s some tweets I found that are in dire need of spell check and a prayer.  Ya’ll enjoy!

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The hard part isn't doing the job, it's getting the job.

A few years ago, I started my own company, an electrical contracting firm, and one of the many lessons I’ve learned is that people (black folk in particular) do not know how to write a résumé or conduct an interview. Is this a personal failing or a failing on the part of our community? Yes on both counts. Part of the reason we, as a people, struggle in the work place, corporate America is because we’re not aware of the invisible set of rules that, only through trial and error, do most of us discover. When we do manage to navigate the minefield of being young black and professional we forget to leave a few breadcrumbs and share the knowledge gained. We spend at least four years in undergrad learning the skills associated with our chosen field but without learning how to get the job. Its like knowing all about fish but not knowing how to use a fishing rod. Providing our voice of reason tonight will be Akil Bello, Vice President of Educational Development for Bell Curves. Look for him between the asterisks.

Now if you're like me and most of your previous work experience was mall retail, fast food, or hunched over a computer trying to get the degree to put on the résumé then you’ll think “What the hell do I put on there?” . Which leads me to résumé/interview tip one.

1.BE HONEST

The idea is to sell yourself, don't come off cocky or arrogant but don't be afraid to make your qualifications known. So, you’ve artfully fabricated a few details on your résumé. A little more work experience here, a bit of incorrect pay info there, and a few fraudulent references for good measure. With your masterpiece complete you fax or email it in. If your lucky you fool them into giving you an interview. So now you have to make up lies to complement the ones on paper and in a thorough interview you will get caught. They will call previous employers whether they’re referenced or not. Know your worth: you can't expect high pay with low experience. Lets be honest $40/hr is a bit much. However, you should go in knowing the average salary (in your state) of someone in the position your applying for. If you have no work references, use professors or mentors; anyone but your family. The idea is to use someone who can verify your work ethic. Your mother is usually not a good reference.

*Speak to your skills and accomplishment not tasks
"Answered phones" should never be on a resume.. the skill is "Provided superior customer service" answered phones is simply the task that allowed you to demonstrate the skill.*

2. Be Succinct

Make sure you spell check, grammar check, and proof read your resume. In the interview, answer questions fully but do not be talkative. In my experience the more I run my mouth the more likely I am to find my foot in it in the near future.

*Don't fill [your resume] with crap.. it should probably be 1 page; it certainly shouldn't be two pages because you listed skills, references, awards activities, favorite tv shows etc.*

3. Be Aware

Be aware of your online footprint. Social media is here to stay and potential employers have no qualms about putting your name into Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Google, Myspaceor even Youtube. So if you’ve got some photos up that would not be work apropriate, you're having a Facebook beef on your timeline, or a video of last Saturday made it to YouTube, you might want to clean that up. The easy solution is to either make your page(s) private or be strict about what lands on your profile. 

*Very common interview enders: Knowing nothing about the company you are interviewing for and not being engaging (no eye contact, no ability to expound on your skill set)*

These are not set in stone but these are some things that could help you snag that ever elusive job in your studied field for which you've spent a decent chunk of your life preparing. Résumés, at their core, are attempts to consolidate who we are and what we can do into a single piece of paper. Interviews, at their heart, try to use a small sample size to gauge who you are as a worker and an individual. Both, however, are necessary evils. A good résumé gets you in the door, a good interview gets you the job. Special thanks to Akil Bello for his help. Happy hunting!

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when running the world (like "divas") because we're girls on fire isn't enough...

Too often I find myself fumbling for footing in a space dense with poorly crafted songs frequently passed off to us (black women) and our younger sisters as "anthems"; anthems we are to regard are our cherished tokens of empowerment and validation. In accepting these consolation prize hymns we inherently accept the second rate, powerless images of ourselves which they project. I stumbled upon "She" by Laura Mvula via a tweet from the unparalleled Ghanaian-British soul singer, Kwabs. In this song, I see recounted an internal discourse which I (and many other black and brown women) engage in daily.

"There she waits looking for a savior; someone to save her from her dying self."

Be it consciously, or simply by virtue of natural human longing (exacerbated by the litany of "unifying" oppression among POC) it seems that we are in constant search for a "savior-figure" (I'm not speaking religiously but if it applies to you in that vein: get it how you need it); some external person or thing to champion and rescue us, voluntarily and without compensation. In passing off the commendations of  the positive results in our lives to "a patch of luck" or an outside source, unduly, we are simultaneous casting negative results in our lives on our designated saviors, detracting from our ability to own and learn from our mistakes...stunting our growth.

"She's tired. But she don't stop."

But in this search, when (or if ) we ever meet an expected end, many of us are met by a house of mirrors upon crossing the finish line: ourselves in all of our divinely-crafted forms. In coming face to face with ourselves, we are faced with the decision of either utilizing the tools of the woman before us or neatly tuck her away and continuing to search for that which we've already witnessed in ourselves.

It is too easy to be faced with your own potential (sans an audience) and simply choose to side-step her in an effort to avoid the inevitable 360° life-reformation, new responsibilities, and temporary heartache of the loss of a sense of (static) normalcy.

"She heard a small voice say, 'You don't stop. You belong to me.' "

What if this sentence was the foundation of our approach to (1) ourselves and (2) the women/girls in our midst?  What would a university/neighborhood/(shit...)club filled with women who claimed their stake in the women around them, without sorority, religious, or any other obligatory ties look like? How do we forge a culture of all-inclusive ownership; one that reinforces our strengths, acknowledges and tenderly advises our weaknesses, and more importantly lends to the self-efficacy of anyone within 7 degrees of these relationships? We've tried shaming our sisters into transcendence. We've given discipline and punishment in hopes of facilitating betterment the good ol' college try. We even utilized the wiles of isolation and alienation. It's never too late to get up and decide not to stop. Try today.

"She don't stop."

- bone, juh, & harmony

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A Brief Reaction to Hip-Hop on Trial

Hip-Hop on Trial:The Debate

Hip-Hop's struggle is analogous to the African-American struggle in America. We're constantly called upon to justify our existence, our culture and its value to America's "melting pot". At what point are we going to see a national (or in this case global) trial on Rock & Roll, movies, or TV? As African-Americans one of our greatest struggles is proving that we, as a people, aren't monolithic. Even our forms of expression are judged by it's worst factors. That's not to say that there isn't a problem in the community and the music but to deny that a form of expression of a disenfranchised people degrades society and doesn't enhance it, is just ludicrous. Why is it that our 'bad' is always worse?


Give it a watch and share your thoughts. (i know its long but you can skip around)

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Bread Cast Upon the Waters...

"My job is to some how make them curious enough or persuade them, by hook or crook, to become more aware of themselves and where they came from and what they are into and what is already there and just to bring it out. This is what compels me to compel them. And I will do it by whatever means necessary." - Nina Simone

The classically trained vocalist, Rolyndria Anderson, breathes new life into the Nina Simone staple, "Four Women", in closing her senior recital at Winston-Salem State University. I could go on and on about the beauty, integrity, and initiative of this woman...forever. So instead, I will say "BRAVA, sis," and hope you all enjoy this brilliant interpretation of a Nina classic...

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