Priorities.

Today I met with a classmate of mine to discuss a reading for the class we have tomorrow. While the class is a seminar class and the whole point is discussion of the reading, we have opted to meet every Sunday to decide what points we need to bring up in class so as to be sure sure our thoughts are heard on the subjects. We are the black students in the class. I, a fresh master's student, she, a new PhD student. My prof loved the idea of the black kids setting the agenda. He is a white man legitimately holding a black card for all intents and purposes. Let me say, another black classmate of mine who had him as a professor at another school thought he was an albino the first two years she knew him. Yes. He is a white black man. I'd go so far as to say African. He is an African man. In a white guys body.

Anyway, I got to meet with my new friend and we discussed the reading, briefly. But we also got to share our stories of struggles in school and how we overcame those struggles. She is amazing. Let's call her Fancy. Fancy is from Kenya but she is Ethiopian. She has a husband and a two year old and she is smart. I am thrilled. I admire so much what she has gone through to ensure good grades and quality education. But what is more amazing to me is how they live here. As an international student, they have little money. All the money she receives from the school goes towards bills. We do not receive large stipends at all. In fact, of the schools she was accepted to, she choose this one because it offered the largest stipend. She says her son grows too fast and she purchases all of his clothes at second hand stores. Unless she gets some extra money. Then she buys him new things.

The first day of our T.A. training, she came up to me and said how she is so happy to see there are three Africans in our program. She told me that despite being African American, we are sisters and we have to stick together in our department because we are all we got. And she is SO right! I was thrilled as well to see her and the other girl but the way she embraced me was surprising. In undergrad, I was very involved with our African Student Council. But I have been told more times than once that I was not truly African because I was born here and so were my parents. The African students would laugh at us or some times be irate that we were attempting some faux brand of Africanity. Initially, I would fall silent and get hurt feelings, but eventually I realized they were as blind as some of the Africans on this continent. We are all the same people. My new response became, if your sibling was kidnapped away from your family and taken to another place and then they grew and married and had children and you found one another again, would your children be cousins? Are they still your sibling? In the same way, we are all the same people. Especially because the students I was dealing with then were all from West African countries.

But Fancy is from East Africa. And without any hesitation she claimed me as her friend. I feel very close to her already. I know there is so much I can learn from her. At the same time, she wants her minor focus to be on African American Studies. So she has much to learn from me. We had a lovely time. I made dinner and then I showed her the decades old photographs salvaged from the sociology department's incinerator pile and residing in my office while I decide on how to archive them. She was thrilled. Historian's are like that. We get off on historical documents.

I was able to give her all of Sun's winter and fall clothes from last year. It's too small but just the right size for her son. She walked out with four bags of clothes and shoes! I felt good but in the same way, I felt like I should be living way simpler. I am a student. That is my life. Yet I know I have spent over a grand in the past month on clothes and accessories. I am not exaggerating. I have so many clothes and shoes and everyday I find a reason to buy more. I love to buy food from restaurants. I hate fast food so any lunch I buy, even to go is costing at least $10. I dress nice to campus every day. Not undergrad nice, but office nice. I get compliments all day, every day and I love it but now I wonder if I am dressing for the compliments rather than to be appropriately attired. I feel foolish. What is really important to me?

Fancy was able to attend a Midwestern university after getting in bachelor's in Nairobi. Her school gave the top female student full tuition scholarship plus an assistantship at the Midwestern school every year. When she graduated she was that student. When I graduated, I had to finagle my way into grad school on a hope and a prayer. Nonetheless, she says we will push each other to be the very best because as Black women we can do anything. I believe her.

Eyeshadow, Sneezing, and Africana Intellect

Hubby, the future dietitian, said he thinks coffee is my culprit. I think so too. Weening myself will NOT be fun.

So recently, my youtube browsing has created an new hobby. I went from having 2 Maybelline eyeshadow trios to this:


Not much except it's been acquired in a matter of weeks. I've more since I snapped that pic. I LOVE the youtube contests that get you to try different looks. But I seem to be color blind or something when it comes to putting these things together. Yesterday, me and the sis played with my stash:



Since I woke up I haven't stopped sneezing. I think it's the over abundant sta sof fro in my hair at the moment. My hair kept falling in my face today. But when I had my wrap on earlier, that was really the only time my sneezes left. So I hope that's it. When we woke this morning Sun told me I was hot. I didn't think nothing of it. Til' hubby said the same. Then I started feeling yucky. THEN, I thought I was only feeling yucky because I was thinking I might be sick. So I cleaned up my kitchen, arranged for the kid to get picked up and headed to the gym. That's when "it" happened (see below). Maybe it was a mixture of caffeine withdrawal and being slightly under the weather.

Anyway, I want to feel better.

I started a new book the other day, The Feminine Mistake by Leslie Bennetts. I'm feeling it thusfar but can't fight the feeling that this largely does not apply to African American women. I got to thinking, maybe there isn't much that DOES apply to African American women in regards to feminism other than it being the white woman's realm. There could be something worth exploring here. I've only recently begun to delve into the realm of Audrey Lorde. I think many may dismiss her on a personal level because she is a lesbian. I had slowly begun to consider just this semester that perhaps, when I begin my PhD studies, I will focus on African Feminisim. During this past decade, I have shyed away from anything even remotely associated with feminism, women's rights and so forth. WHY? Somehow, somewhere I picked up the awful idea that people would think I'm a lesbian, and a bitch, if even assumed to perhaps be interested in feminism. Fortunately for me, I have an awesome muse. Said muse informed me those ideas were largely outdated. No one thinks that way anymore. Outdated is correct. Thougtwise, incorrect. Just as someone convinced me of this foolishness, others have been convinced as well. For instance: the car I recently acquired had this god awful orange construction looking sticker stuck to it which read: "Woman Working." It annoyed me only because it appeared to me to be such an in your face, I am woman hear me roar, feel to it. Not my steelo. But hubby, dear god, he HATES it. He said, "I can't have everyone thinking your into this American Feminist crap." No, he's not American. But why does it have to be crap. Personally, I don't think he really understands what feminism is. And honestly I didn't until I began to slowly give it a chance sometime last fall. In fact, it was reading up on various African matriarchal systems that spurred my interests. "Marriage," as we know, appears to exists only within patriarchal societies across the global. Marriage is, in effect, the monopoly on another person's sexuality. In Matriarchal societies, there is no you belong to me. All this, I own you as my spouse, boyfriend, girlfriend, whatever and the expectation that as humans we are only to bind ourselves to one singular individual for the entirety of our lives despite how we and they may evolve, is rubbish. That is why we live in a nation of psychos. At least, that is my take.

But this is my area to expound on and I already shared too much.

I will hunt you down and kill you if you steal my idea. You've been forewarned. :-)

I just felt a need to get my intellect somewhere in this blog. My blog description is so much to live up to. It's what I ponder daily. My old blog was all over my descript, but alas, I grew out of it.

Defining Blackness through Music

It's finally the best time of year:Black History Month time!!!!

And maybe no one is more excited than myself. Yes we have our black president, but this does not erase injustices our people have overcome and stereotypes we have to disprove each day just to get a fair shot at a decent life in this country.

That being said, I believe our music plays a vital role in defining who we are as a people. How so? It shows off our natural creative genius, at the same time being unafraid to display our passion for being exactly who we are. While I think it quite unfortunate that the majority of popular modern black music betrays us as oversexed, materialistic, alcoholics, I do believe it can once again be our saving grace.

I've challenged myself and member of my website TheCornerAtSIUC to post songs that best define the various aspects of blackness.
My first pick is "Black Gold of the Sun" by Rortary Connection