letting go

yesterday i decided to call chris to wish him a merry xmas. he had his newphew screen the phone call and make up a bullshit excuse when he realized it was me. ..."ouch" is the only thing i could say. i was like, damn, four years together and you can't even answer the phone yourself? ...this past week, especially, i kept thinking about how things had ended between the two of us... i guess between school and being in a new relationship i hadn't allowed myself the time to proccess all that had happened. i felt guilty... i kept wondering how i was going to "get over him," but that in itself was confusing for me... see, i wasn't not-"over him"... i don't love him anymore and i certainly don't want him back. so then i thought maybe it was that i was still attached to the concept of our relationship. but that wasn't quite true either. sure i could think of the good times, but the foundation of my relationship with him was built upon this inner feeling that we wouldn't make it - a feeling i secretly had had since the beginning. moving to austin made me acknowledge it. meeting martin gave me the courage to end it knowing that i was denying myself something stronger, deeper, and more fulfilling... and yesterday, after being hurt when he refused to talk to me, i realized what it was: i wanted his forgiveness for hurting him. yes, he hurt me several times over- and that's partially why i ended it- but i had already forgiven him. i wanted HIM to forgive ME. of course, this is stupid for two reasons. one is the obvious- i broke up with him because he is immature and selfish- clearly, he hasn't been overcome by feelings of guilt for what he did to me. he only wanted to "make things right" so he could be happy again. second, i can't expect him to forgive me for breaking up with him. i realize this now. i guess i thought becoming friends would signal that he had forgiven me. but if we were capable having a successful friendship we never would have broken up in the first place. so it's over. i'm not a part of his life anymore. he's not a part of mine. i'm letting go...and i'm ok with that.

before i reflect on the year 2005 (we still have a few days left)... i vow to leave my grudges behind with this day. life is too short, fragile, and valuable to waste it being mad at people. just one moment of anger/frustration/resentment is a moment that could be spent pursuing happiness... xmas is in less than two hours and the 10 o'clock news lists multiple people who have died today. i can only think of what their families must be going through...which is why i'm going to let go.

the day after

yesterday was amanda's funeral. it finally hit me that she's gone... sort of. we sat in the church and sang songs together, watching her family to see how they were doing and thinking of the incredible person we had all lost. and she was amazing. the priest came to the podium and began speaking by saying "amanda was full of life..." that hit me hard, speaking of someone in past tense, thinking of someone being full of life no longer... but it was so true. she did everything hard, laughed hard, cried hard, partied hard, and loved her friends and family... it's interesting what people remember about you when you've died. her sorority sisters from college talked about how she knew everyone on campus during undergrad. that she maintained her competetive edge even in intramural volleyball. that she was always on the phone and always up for a party. how she would drunk-dial her parents and friends. her closest friends from highschool remembered school dances and our trip to greece. how incredibly outgoing and caring for everyone she knew. ... if there's one thing i want to take away from this it's to take time to live it up NOW; not to wait until i have enough money or more time or have finished the semester. cause, honestly, i'm not worried about not having done enough before i die - clearly i won't be thinking about it then. what i don't want to happen is to live another ten, twenty years and look back on my life thinking, damn, i wasted so much time waiting for it to be the "right time."

to amanda

my plane got into chicago yesterday at 10:30am. i got home at 12:00. i found out that amanda died at 12:05... life is crazy. i hadn't talked to her in almost a year, yet last week (december 8) she sent me a message on facebook asking if i was coming home during the break. i told her i was, and she gave me her cell number. it's still in my phone... i was telling my friend about my facebook conversation with amanda the other day. i was looking forward to our meeting- i wanted to see what type of person she had become... i've known amanda since sixth grade. she was this loud, bossy girl who was, perhaps too serious about basketball and volleyball (i sucked at both but played anyway). i remember her crush on jonathan taylor thomas. i remember her obsession with jimmy buffet. the infamous trip to greece during our junior year. yearbook drama that she always managed to stay out of. the tea party i threw a month before we all started college. when i think of amanada, all i see is a tall, thin girl with bright eyes and a huge smile. i can still hear her voice. but what i can't see is her not being here. i think that it's only now beginning to hit me. she died two nights ago driving home in the snow. this is unreal... everytime i think of her being gone i have to think to something else. i don't know what to take away from this; i only think of what her parent must being going through. what her sisters have to come home to. and then i wonder what to do with myself. what do you do when your childhood friend dies? you go on of course, but doing what? setting up for xmas parties (as i had to do yesterday)? watch tv? buy presents? go shopping? when nakia died i learned to stop taking everything for granted. today i'm in disbelief. this is bullshit. life is incredible.

aaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

so i've been working on this paper since thursday night and i now have -ya'll ready?- nine fucking pages... i'm so tired of staring at this screen that i have a headache and my mind has become numb. i just want to pack my bags and get on a plane to go home. i don't even care that it's thirty degrees (yes thirty) colder and there is snow everywhere. i just want to get out of austin and away from these books and not have to think about papers or grades or classes or jobs or the next five-six years of my life for a pitiful salary... i just wanna go home...

so i recognize that there is such a thing as property. legally "it" is not mine/ours... why the hell wouldn't you tell somebody in the first place? ok... no, it's not ours, but what about intellectual property? what about the fact that my blood, sweat, and tears will be on display across the country and i won't even know about it... i'm beyond pissed

privilege is a bitch

today in class my professor went around the class and asked us why we chose to study latin american history... ten minutes of bullshit... "life circumstances brought me to it." "friends from summer camp got me interested in the culture, though i'm afraid to visit the country because of its violence" [are u serious???] "i know that memories of the period are still fresh and there are a lot of untapped resources" R U FUCKING SERIOUS???!!! no, you are not studying people in latin america simply because of life circumstances, intrigue with the culture, or a love for the people; you study latin america because of something either deeply personal or extremely superficial and based on preconcived ideas of the region.

here's a summary of my response:
professor: Takkara, what do you wish to study in latin america?
takkara: race, class, and gender in Cuba.
p: why?
t: because race,class, and gender is how i define my life.
p: why Cuba?
t: well latin america because of the common history of slavery. cuba because of the parallels in social developments with the united states. i'm fascinated by the similarities and differences...

see the difference? no "i fell in love with the culture while i lived there." no "untapped archival documents to be analyzed." my research is personal and i have no shame. i wouldn't dare say i love salsa because the beat is bangin' (though it may be true for others). i love salsa because its sexy and sensual and, most of all, exotic. ... i'm through with this topic for the day... i'm sure i'll be back to it in the future.

can i just get this semester over with!

every time i look up i think, damn, i'm still in school... not that i'm upset that i've been in school for the past twenty-ish years and still going strong, but that i've been busting my ass (sort of) for the past several months... and it's still not over. i broke down about a month ago and lost all motivation. the only thing that keeps me going is the desire to finish strong. my classes are getting on my nerves. i have so much damn work that i never get to put the necessary effort into my weekly papers (though part of that is my own fault- i spend a little too much time being social during the weekends). the white students in my english class spend the majority of the class talking about form, imagery, and symbolism without jumping into the racial politics that shape the period we're studying... i'm just not trying to commend the use of primitivism in literature of the harlem renaissance and negritude movement as a "subversion of stereotypes" when the majority of readers were/are white and allowed such writings to reinforce their ideas of black inferiority. and i'm so bogged down by my work for my monday and tuesday classes that i never get to invest the amount of time necessary to really take in and analyze the readings for my wednesday class. ah, the life of a grad student... i could have worse problems. maybe that's why i'm not stressing like i normally would.

oh, and a random comment... i slept on marques houston; that song "naked" is secretly on point. maybe it's just me...

yes, i've been in hiding... with a man. his name is martin and he's wonderful. i'm having a hard time thinking about anything besides him and school. life is fabulous...

lost in translation

chris and i broke up last night. i told him that there was a sense of urgency on my side, which was why i needed to see him, but that he seemed to lack the same feelings. he was too complacent. i told him we needed to take a break until he could come see me and we could work out our issues face to face. i was tired of putting up with his excuses for why he couldn't come visit, or even give me a date to visit him. i was tired of his not having a job; of his not being motivated; of his disinterest in my life. i was tired of being young and in a committed relationship that was going nowhere. i feel guilty because of what i may have done to him. but i don't even know how he feels because he shut down weeks ago. and that was partically my fault- i pushed him away. if we are meant to be we'll come back together at another time when we're different people. i don't think so, though. i'm kind of numb. i don't really want to talk about it anymore.

right now i'm so living in a bubble/bundle of happiness with my friend who is the most amazing man i have ever met and is definately not my boyfriend... like i'm having a hard time keeping focused on my school work and even paying attention in some of my classes... and i've had the best conversations ever... and i actually get PHYSICALLY turned on by talking about the most mundane, having-nothing-to-do-with-sex topics... and we're so much alike and so perfectly different that it's crazy...and i constantly find myself learning new things and teaching him things and sitting and just being so overwhelmed looking into his eyes so i have to look away for a few moments just to keep from breaking down... and just when i feel silly for randomly thinking about him he calls... he's just this completely normal person who i know has flaws (somewhere) and i'm not holding him to any model of perfection, but i'm willing to take whatever comes my way because i feel like it's worth it... and there is so much that i could say, but i feel that it would betray a level of intimacy that i have never before experienced or even known to be possible... i didn't know this was possible...

the other day i told my boyfriend that i wanted to see other people. i told him it was because our relationship (friendship... conversations) was falling apart, and i often felt i was too young to be in a relationship defined by drama. we're still together, and it was my choice. i had been contemplating ending it all for a couple of weeks, but, faced with the prospect of nevr seeing the man i've loved for the past four years again, i told him i wanted to give it one last try. i don't quite know why, but it felt right. was it becasue i'm scared? am i waiting for a reason to hate him? all i see right now are the good times. maybe that is how i should leave it... i've cried for two days, and i don't know what to do. i just want to control everything... and in doing so, i've found myself in this latest position: fighting for and against my relationship simultaneously. chris hasn't done anything. i don't know if it's becasue he wants out, though i don't think so. he said he felt it coming, and i think maybe he feels he's already lost. or maybe he doesn't know what to do. but i've forced my controlling self to take a step back from fighting and just be for a few moments... the problem is, chris isn't doing anything either. and that's the worst part; it hurts to think that after all of this time he'd not feel it worth the effort to keep us together. i want to yell at him, "why won't you fight for me?" "why won't you fight for us?" this shit sucks. we have so much potential as a couple, which is why i want us to try to work it out, but, but i think i killed the momentum with my honesty. at least i got the ball rolling... i told him i needed to see him to reconnect. he still hasn't said anything. just that he wishes we could have our relationship without complications. what is that??? i'm putting the ball in his court...

check this out

ok so i had to write another blog... i just found out some really interesting/cool/slightly-weird stuff out. so my "friend" is orignially from chicago, the same city as my family. i was raised baptist, as were my parents, but my mother's mother was raised methodist. my friend is methodist, and his mother is originally from chicago (maybe now you can see where this is going... maybe not). he said that his parents met at St. Mark Methodist Church in chicago. i remember my late, great-great aunt going to a church named St. Mark. at first we thought, "hey, a church named St. Mark is the same as a church named Mt. Zion; there are dozens of them." So, just now, he called his parents to ask where the church was located in chicago. i called my mom to ask her where my aunt's church was. then- u ready? - he, sitting next to me, and my mom, on the phone, both said the same address at the same time! now i know you're thinking, OK, but it gets better. my parents were married at the church in 1978; his were married there in 1979. his grandfather probably played my parent's wedding. his mother was raised in the church, and my aunt was a life-long member. his parents still attend the church, as do several of my aunts... isn't that crazy?! and my mother said that we probably crossed paths as children, cause my mother used to take me to church events. maybe we met years ago...

(re)evaluating the system

so i love my professor... he's a mexican scholar of latin american history who's about to leave ut-austin for uchicago. meanwhile, he's probably one of the realest professors out of the latin americanists (aside from my advisor). he's constantly going off about how we construct latin american history... for example, when we think of latin america in the twentieth century we immediately see images of peasant revolutions, corrupt governments, passion/sex, and macho men/submissive women... the issue is that we (i'm using the term we loosely) act like these phenomena exist only in latin america-- clearly the same things can be said about the united states and europe...

meanwhile, today's conversation focused on the role of the intellectual. as a scholar-in-training, i and many others that may read this blog aspire to someday publish articles and books that will aid in transforming the academy... but can we really? and how? true, we can insert various aspects of identity often ignorned by our counterparts into the field of history, anthropology, art, feminist theory, etc... but what about the revolution? how far will they let us go in being radical? i want to challenge captialist values that shape our social relations as collegues. i want to call people out on being pseudo-activists, on identifying as liberals and studying the "subaltern" (this term deserves some serious discussion in itself) but refusing to have them/us as neighbors. i want them to recognize that we all have political agendas in our research... clearly my saying fuck bullshit conservative canonial texts won't get me a degree... let's talk about why we are people of the united states studying latin america in the first place. let's ask ourselves how our research is going to help end poverty, rape, child abuse, and worker abuse. and what am i doing about this??? at the moment, nothing. but i still have hope for developing an agenda...

which brings me back to my professor. he mentioned that many scholars see history as liberatory. i don't quite understand how though. most of our research only reinforces the status quo... and concepts of liberatory are relative; our conceptualization of such terms are inherently subjective. everyone has their own idea of "revolution." where is our common ground?

he identified the catch 22 in writing history: we write about oppressed identities (race, gender, sexuality, etc) to attack discrimination and work towards liberation, but aren't we reinforcing binary constructions of difference in the process? social constructions of identity are, indeed, constructions. they're not real. but there are material realities to these constructions. so what do we do? many writers (some examples can be found in the literature produced during the harlem renaissance) chose/choose to define themselves as "american" and deny any racial affiliation. it pisses me off... but are they onto something? what is our plan? perhaps we should fight to create equality, but view it as steps towards a society without difference? is this even possible?

my professor also challenged us to think beyond writing books for academic audiences. most books are never read, especially not by the people whose stories we claim to be examining. and, for most of us, our language is not accessible... so do we write stories for those outside of the academy? what will we write about? who will publish them? will they be read, and how will they help transform the world? maybe books and articles are the wrong approach... how about documentaries? or community forums? how will we bring our scholarship back to the community? and what is the community?

just a few thoughts...

this weekend was FANTABULOUS!!! aside from the fact that i have successfully avoided doing ANY work (and i will soon be regretting this decision as the night approaches), i had a ton of fun (hehe that rhymes). friday i went out with some friends for dinner, then we got a bunch of wine and drank before going to a club. it was an undergrad party, but 1. i was too drunk to notice, and 2. there were a bunch of non-undergrads present... i don't know if that's sad or disturbing or both or neither... i had on this very cute, jessica simpson-esque turquoise dress with no straps and kind of flouncy at the bottom. and flats because i didn't want the children to think i was getting dressed-up for them. i danced with a whole bunch of people until my "friend" showed up... come to think of it, maybe i should begin my wonderful weekend on thursday when he and i went to see The Gospel (the movie)... anyway, after the party at the club, we went to another party sponsored by the african students association. the party was amazing- with some of the sexiest men i've seen in awhile, and good music from africa, the caribbean, and the u.s. (dirty south and a couple of oldies). my "friend" met me there too and we only danced with each other... now anyone who has ever seen me dance knows that i believe dancing should be sexual (what else would the point be?), and he is one of THE best dancers ever! maybe even THE best??? after the party i dropped my friends off and he and i went to ihop. i got home at seven in time to see the sky becoming light blue... saturday we went running (we're now up to three and a half miles). then i got some wonderful sonics mozzarella sticks for the second time this week and went to bed before midnight. this morning we went to church... yes, takkara went to church. i'm having a lot of fun, but i keep asking myself, are we dating? technically, no. i have a boyfriend, i tell him stories about chris (which i'm sure he hates but i don't care), and we never talk about being anything more than friends. but we only dance with each other when we're at the club together, we go out alone, and talk like two people dating and trying to get to know each other would. interesting...

it is cold outside, and wet, and cloudy. it reflects my mood quite well... something deep inside feels uneasy and has me on edge. i'm not quite sure of what's going on. last night my boyfriend asked me if i felt that we had grown apart... i told him no (and i wasn't lying), but i think he feels differently. then he asked if i was seeing anyone else out here in austin??? i wanted to tell him not to put his insecurites on me. but i was nice. i just told him no. i told him that i wouldn't do such a thing to him. and then i gave him 101 reasons why. i should have said "fuck you" and hung up the phone... i don't really think that this has anything to do with me. i think that he either has done something or wants to do something...which honestly doesn't bother me. i just want him to be honest. the thing is, though, i'm not being completely honest. i want to talk to other guys. i want to date around. part of me is holding back because i have so much invested in this relationship and i love him. i don't want to break it off and regret it. but another, maybe larger part of me is fed up with his lack of drive, immaturity and selfishness. every week i realize more and more that he's not the man i want to marry. maybe it's just a phase? i'm not quite ready to have him out of my life. but i'm also not in the mood to play all of that john legend, ordinary people bullshit. i'm just not sure that it's worth it. there are so many days when i wonder how/why we've even come this far together. but he's taught me alot about myself: to take myself less seriously, not to get angry so quickly, to be more affectionate, to appreciate sports... i appreciate him for that; i really do. but maybe we've outgrown each other. at least maybe i've outgrown him...

what would jesus do?

lately i keep having hearing and reading conversations about the purpose of life... purpose? i think, "who cares?". i think, "what's the point in trying to look for a deep meaning?". for me, what is important is not the meaning, but what i do with my life. i don't know if that makes sense... what do we hope to get out of knowing the "meaning" of life? clarity? direction? happiness? yolanda (adams) said that it's not about reaching the end of the journey, but experiencing the process. my advisor said that sometimes you take classes and wonder what it's going to do for you, and you don't realize until the end how it helped you. that's how i'm starting to look at life. sometimes i wonder why the hell i'm in grad school, why i didn't pursue my childhood dreams of being a fashion designer or a magazine editor, why i don't just open a coffee shop or go move to a mediterranean village. but then i think of the people that i've met, the experiences that i've having, and the person that i am daily becoming. and that's how i know that i am where i am supposed to be.

so i don't really care about the meaning; i care about how i live my life and the decisions that i make to evolve in the the type of person worthy of god's love. i want to become more compassionate like jesus - call me corny, but i look to him as a leader of the revolution just as i would toni cade or malcolm x or che... or even mother theresa. i struggle not to give into the temptation to live a completely self-centered lifestyle focused on acquiring material wealth. but what about cute shoes? ...and i want to help change the academy to make marginalized groups valued both as students in the classroom and in books as subjects of study. but what about tenure, salaries, and recognition? i want to never feel that being rich is more important than living my dreams, that wearing clever outfits is never more important than noticing that the person next to you is struggling, that i'm never too perfect to embrace another perspective and change, that i'm never too busy to know whether my friends and family are healthy and happy, and that the world is never to screwed up to fix... i want to appreciate good food and wine while helping children learn how to read, and to save for a house while giving money to help send black women to college... what would jesus do if he lived here today with us? would he live with the poor?, because i don't know if that would help (and i honestly don't know if i could do that). would he become rich like oprah so he could give back? would he become a teacher? would he start an ngo like daison? would he fight the government that has so many of us distracted from the use of our tax money to kill and pursue economic ventures for their friends? would he be a poet? what would jesus think of me? i guess i won't know until it's over and done... i want to become a person that god would approve of... but, who is that person?

p.s. i knot that this is really random and has nothing to do with my post, but i just saw a hip-hop old-head walk by... but he was white. picture a tall thin middle-age white man with a pharell-type hat cocked to the side, baggy jeans, a big t-shirt, and sneakers, but with classes and a brief case. i wish i took a picture.

i have a little crush... yes, i know that i have a boyfriend, but CLEARLY he isn't here (and he's also not doing shit back in atlanta...). there's this guy (sorry alii another guy) that i've been hanging out with. and it's very fun- full of conversation, new experiences and good dancing. so i'm in the early stages of the crush, where you randomly think about the person and wonder what it would be like to do such and such... you know that initial exposure to a person who you don't really know, so you have to invent them in your head; that period without personal flaws exposed, wondering what's next, not even near getting on each other's nerves, or -dare i say it- the first kiss. oh dear... dear, dear, dear. is this cheating? i haven't done anything. and it's all in my head. but maybe i want to? and i knew i was in full crush mode when i pulled out my Ella cd of love ballads, only for the grown and sexy... and i've been inspired to listen to sade in the middle of the afternoon... what a wonderful little place to be in, to space out in class thinking about salsa dancing or driving or just talking and laughing. perhaps i can still have my sex and the city and live in austin.

walking on cloud nine

right now i am alert, antsy, a little spacy and... full? for the first time since coming to austin i can say that i am truly happy. not just happy, but in a state of overwhelming euphoria. i'm not quite sure when it happened.

thursday i met up with some friends at a jazz club at this spot called the elephant room. it hosts music groups from central austin throughout the week. thursday's group included the one of the finest men i have ever seen... i was ready to establish the "pedro the trumpet player" (also known as pete) fan club, that is until i found out that he was married. i still think he's sexy. then my friend natasha and i went walking and found a salsa club. i had my own humbling experience when a white man tried to tell me what was wrong with my steps. ya'll know i wasn't havin' that. i pretended to be listening to his suggestions, though i was actually thinking of how this was my first and last dance ever with a middle-aged white man. i'm still salty.

last night i met up with my friend martin, a trombone player getting his masters in music at UT. somehow i found myself back at the salsa club (with the same white man) listening to a live salsa band. i was pleasantly suprised to find sexy pete playing in the band:) my friend natasha and javier joined us for a few dances. later we went to another club that played ALL DIRTY SOUTH MUSIC!!! who knew that austin could get down!? ...actually, this blog is doing nothing to convey my excitement... all i can say is that i woke up with a smile on my face.

austin isn't as bad as i thought; it has its perks, like an incredible live music scene (currently, i'm at a cafe drinking ice coffee watching couples swing dance to a live old-school type big band). i feel quite comfortable with when and how i am. who knows, maybe austin may one day feel like home...

guess who's bzack

these past few weeks i've been trying to adjust my personal style to to be... more professional. i've never been so lost as a fashionista in my life. see, the thing with UT is that -on top of being stereotypical lame-looking graduate students- most people are the original t-shirt and jeans dressers. it hurts me every single day. i tried to do the slacks with nice shirts and cute shoes. but i was too dressy. so i began to embrace the "graduate fashion" -- the i'm-trying-to-reflect-some-style-while-looking-like-i-had-too-much-work-to-do-to-look-cute look; the laid-back and feminine with bland clothing that reflects absolutely nothing about my personality look (except maybe that i like pastel blue); and finally the i'm trying to look feminine but i have no concept of style beyond wearing skirts look. it's a damn shame. and to think that i began to look like them.

but yesterday was the worst: i wore a pair of perfectly cute blue pinstripe long shorts with a WASHED OUT HANES T-SHIRT AND FLIP FLOPS. i was so ashamed that i rushed off of campus the minute that class was over. i hope to never return to such a low place again. this morning i began thinking about the often fashion-centered world of spelman and atl. how had i deviated so far from the path of growth along which i had been traveling? and instead of picking out another lame skirt i put on one of my favorite pairs of jeans (i only have two) with a sheer pink blouse. and then i realized what was missing from my life: HEELS. yes that's right, the heels are back. and i don't care if i'm the only one on campus wearing them. i need to maintain the last of the pride that i have left. so take that! the real takkara is back, with heels. fuck flip flops.

(note: for all of you flip-flop wearing ladies, i'm not saying that they are anti-fashion. i just don't think that they go with every outfit...)

p.s. this morning i went to a seminar on gender and film. i found myself surrounded by some of the worst chunky, strappy, no personality-having shoes of my life. i've never felt so on top of my game.

check it out

so i had a purpose in coming to this site. i was going to write a blog about... something to do with my day. however, before i got to this point, i saw alysia's most recent blog. ya'll need to check it out ASAP. i've never been so happy to be black.

i remember when i first learned of death. i was five, maybe six, taking a shower while my mother sat in the bathroom and talked with me. i don't remember how it came out, but i do remember being stunned. how was it that we could no longer be?

i feel guilty for being angry. i feel that i've allowed myself to be overcome by my inner pessimism that i am constantly fighting. it's not that i can't laugh or see the humor in everyday things, but i am constantly aware of the pain/suffering/grief inherent in so many experiences.

i have cried three times in the past 24 hours. first i cried while i was reading an article for class. joan dayan critiqued paul gilroy's the black atlantic for its lack of connection to reality. in a very dense two hundred and twenty-something pages he discussed the aspirations of black intellectuals and performers to address issues of race that stem from a history of slavery. dayan argued that gilroy missed some crucial elements in this discussion, namely that there is a material reality of racism visible beyond intellectual and artistic discourses. she pointed to the prison population of which fifty percent of black males. i couldn't help but look up and think of how few of us there are here at this institution of 50,000. she also suggested that a critique of the black atlantic needed to acknowledge the system in which so many of us are not even given the opportunity address our circumstances. it was yet another reminder that, while i am here dedicated to the study of race/gender/class/etc., there are people in the world dying and struggling to live.

later, on my way to class, i found out that nikia died. you take for granted the relationships that you have, whether they be intimate or in passing. i remember her as a warm, friendly, caring person who always made me feel welcome. i admired her sense of style and her dedication to the history department: all of the times she rolled the tv into class when professors were running late, helping me sign up for phi delta theta, and wearing t-shirts advertising the first annual history day. there are so many images that stand out in my mind...to think that i took them all for granted. i can't believe that she's gone. i can't believe that she was so young. that she went so fast. that she probably never saw it coming. part of it is so very surreal, but the bulk of it is so very real. i pray for the strength of her family, friends, and for spelman.

then, this morning, i read deLaine's blog. it breaks my heart to see how we allow low self-esteem to put us in circumstances that jeopordize our mental, phyhsical, and emotional health and development. i feel like i have come to a place where i am slowly losing faith in black men. more and more i meet black men who prove my stereotypical images true as selfish, self-centered, misogynistic, materialistic, and close-minded people. not that this can't be found in others, but i'm not attracted to them. ...beyond that, i struggle with standing up for what is right, "choosing battles"... there are all of these messages that tell us to back-down. don't fight your teachers who hold your degree in their hands. dont' call people out on their ignorance because they are your future collegues and you want them to like you (but do i really?). don't stand up for the woman being disrespected because they may harm you... do i live as a coward or risk death as woman of morals and ideals?

and yet i am alive to feel. maybe this is good for me- anyone who knows me knows that i am not good with dealing with the emotional aspects of life. maybe this is part of what yolanda adams refers to as "the process." i don't consider these to be bad days or even hard, just overhwhelming. and yet i am so fortunate to be here in this moment and just be.

in the eye of the beholder

so lately i've noticed that i've become increasingly angry (yes, moya, you are very right). at first i thought it was part of my adusting to austin. then i assumed that it was a part of being a grad student. but i kept thinking-- no, i'm not quite hitting it on the head... then it hit me: I AM SEXUALLY FRUSTRATED

this frustration is only increased by the fact that my boyfriend is in atlanta, and infidelity is not an option. not that i could if i wanted to... there are only ten black men over 21 in austin. (side note: is this topic of discussion politically correct even within the territory of blogs???)

so while i was originally going to write another angry blog, i decided to save that for later and pay tribute to my current mental state. i'd like to acknowledge just how bad it's gotten here in the "atx" (like the atl... i think it's stupid too).

what i mean is that, once you stop looking for this generation's denzel to walk around the corner, you realize that there are "attractive" men everywhere. "attractive" is a very subjective concept anyway. take my recent encounters for example:

1. there is this very cute, very tall and slightly dorky white boy in my cohort who i keep seeing at my favorite coffee shop. he seems very straight-laced from the outside, but a recent conversation revealed that he's a little shy and awkward. i find this to be incredibly sexy. ...actually, i'd be attracted to him anyway...
2. there is a Black grad student in the music department who has been one of the most welcoming people i've encountered since beginning the semester. i met up with him and another friend at the club last week. he is a textbook nerd, but he's still cool; he talks about classes, practicing for performances, and mentoring students a lot, but he also likes dirty south music. plus he has a cute little butt, and when i saw a cute outfit that was very proper but casual. and an an abercrombie hat...i'd probably be attracted to him under normal circumstances also
3. last night i went out with a group of people who live with my friend, including a seemingly lame white boy. his overwhelming lameness diminished greatly after realizing that he was one of the friendliest people i'd crossed paths with all week. he even made me laugh with his unapologetic dance moves to the yin yang twins. later i thought, "maybe i could take him home..."
4. even a big boy, with a black dress hat and matching bead on his cornrows, becomes cute when moving and shaking across the floor walkin' it "like a dog" to music that only Black texans have ever heard of.
5. right now i'm looking at a punk-ish guy outside with tattoos covering his arms and a lip ring. something about that scruffy, bad-boy look keeps me from focusing on the book that i've been trying to read for the past several hours.

do me a favor, if any of you run into any attractive Black men in your neck of the woods, could you send me a picture?

frustrations

today, so far, is a why day... one of those days that you constantly find yourself asking, "why?" like why all of the attractive men in austin can only be found riding the bus... or why limewire will let me download samba music, but apparently it doesn't consider salsa to be its own genre... better yet, why can't there exist a nice apartment near campus that's affordable so that i don't have to ride the bus for one and a half hours every day? why isn't there a decent coffee shop near my apartment? why is it 96 degrees outside, but i have a cold? and why has my professor sent me and my classmates on a wild goose chase to find an article in a journal that secretly doesn't exist?

I'm in the middle of reading this book on U.S.- Latin American
foreign relations, and learning about how the U.S. has fucked up almost
every attempt for sovereign nations to pursue social reform and
economic development in its own quest for "freedom" and "democracy." I
thought I knew something about the United States' foreign policy, but
I've never been so ashamed to be a part of a society- who's government
I don't even feel connected to -as I do now. Even worse, I now
understand that the model and language used to invade and destroy Iraq
began not after 9/11, but shortly after the U.S. claimed its
independence in the eighteenth century.

Even more frustrating is the blatant failure of the government to
properly respond to the struggling and displaced people of Louisiana
and Mississippi. I would expect that they ignore the thousands of
Blacks living in poverty in their daily lives. But to know that they
stand by knowing that people are without the resources to evacuate, and
then literally/physically pass by and ignore their cries for help,
blows my mind. Coming from an HBCU, I have a special place in my heart
for Black institutions of higher learning. Four have been damaged in
the past week. Who knows when and if they will be able to reopen. I
can't help but think of all the students of color who are affected.

What's more frustrating is the silence here at the overwhelmingly
white institution that is the University of Texas. No one has talked
about it. I've seen only one fundraiser (sponsored by a black
fraternity). The people in my program continue to plan for nights out
at the bar without even a moment of reflection. It's like damn, does
race really color your perception of humanity to the extent that you
are unaffected when hundreds of people seven hours away have died? Can
you not feel anything beyond keeping your blonde highlights fresh,
buying Live Strong bracelets, and giving a dollar for the Tsunami? I
know that I am preaching to the choir, but I am frustrated, and angry,
and feeling helpless. Our struggle is so deep within and so far beyond
the academy.

yesterday we had our history dept graduate reception. it included a mix of new and senior students, professors and faculty. i was the only black person there. i expected some sort of culture shock in attending UT at Austin, but i've been fine. however, yesterday, during our first interactions, people started acting up. in particular, one man attempted to check me during a simple conversation. the graduate coordinator introduced him to me. he was wearing a shirt, tie and dress slacks. i say this because the majority of students wear jeans, washed-out t-shirts, and flip-flops. i assumed he was a professor. within thirty seconds of talking he questioned a simple response to one of his questions. giving him the benefit of a doubt, i wondered if i was unclear. later, when talking about my travels to Cuba, he asked if Cubans or Americans arranged the travel tours. i responded, "us." he asked, "who's us?" now at this point i want to say, "negro, who do you think is us? do are either of us from Cuba?" instead, i respond, people from the U.S. [side note: i think we need to get out of the habit of using the term American in referring to people from the U.S. i know that it's how we're socialized, but it's a bit arrogant to label ourselves as "Americans" and all other people in the Americas by their respective nationalities]. this is when the alarm finally goes off, and i move to talk to someone else.

earlier in the day, i went to a Black graduate student reception. the director of the Center for African and African American Studies (CAAAS) acknowledged that students in Ph.D. and masters programs often receive the lowest funding offers. he said that while they knew we were qualified, our departments often think otherwise. and while were are aware of racism as children- and speak of it often at Spelman- i think that there is little that can prepare us for the hurt and frustration that comes from being viewed/treated as less simply for being Black women. i hope that i never get used to it; doing so would mean that i had fully embraced cynicism and lost hope.

meanwhile, i think there are several ways to deal with it. we can fight it. we can find humor in it. and we can work to assure each other that we are smart, capable, and entitled. they've been told it their whole lives.

i for one have a new mantra. ready? I AM THE SHIT. why? because i am twenty-two years-old, i got into one of my top PhD programs -on the first round, WITH FUNDING- and i'm living my dream, and i'm just getting started. i think that everyone who reads this to tell them shit that they are the shit too. and we're not going to down to our imbedded gender behaviors that make us feel guilty for being aware of our inner brilliance. i'm not a bitch or cocky or snobby. i'm confident. and i'm going to keep telling myself that i'm the shit until i learn another way to deal with bullshit. who knows, i just might put it on a t-shirt.

another birthday

today is my 22nd birthday. damn, i'm 22 years old... it's weird how birthdays evolve. when you're little your parents pull out the stops. you get the cake, cards, presents, etc. you learn to count each year using your fingers. you anxiously await the day on which everyone seems to be celebrating you. you even pick out your presents weeks before the big day. and birthday parties are the best. but, as you get older, birthdays lose their importance. you have cake with your family. maybe go out with a few friends. i can't say that i haven't had some memorable days.

i went to my first college party on my eighteenth birthday. my new friends at spelman took me out for my first cheesecake factory experience. then we went to a hotel party and met a whole bunch of dudes i was too intimidated to talk to. and, being freshmen, we had to leave EARLY before most people had arrived to make dorm curfew. i'm still mad at the girls of HH who were fast and had to sneak out for who knows what during orientation week.

on my nineteenth birthday my freshman clique and i had a reunion at cafe intermezzo. who knew that- because of sorority bullshit (actually, it had little to do with the organization and more with the obsession of being a member)- we'd barely speak to each other by the end of the year.

my twentieth birthday was THE BOMB. i was living in havana, cuba. i told everyone i wanted to spend the big day drunk and dancing salsa in a club. we went out deep through the streets of the new city like we were running things. stacey, ronni, tasha, ashley, deLaine and i were such pimps that we had a huge group of dudes with us. some of them were even cute.

last year i wore a cute white skirt i payed way too much money for (note to self: get cute skirt dry cleaned). went to wild curry with deLaine, moya and moya's friend brandy. coincidentally, brandy and i shared the same birthday. my roommates, moya and i spent the night at club shadows. we had guys buying us drinks all night. that night was only the begining; a new world really does open up when you turn twenty one.

and here i am today. i got up and got dressed. played with my sexy ibook. talked to friends. my two-year-old goddaughter called me and sang happy birthday with her mother (she only knows when to say "you"). ate dinner with my dad, aunt and uncle. now i'm watching a movie. and i'm quite satisfied. no cake, no candles... for my birthday my mother bought me a washer and dryer. it's a big change from barbie dolls, but it's probably the most useful gift to date.

who knew?

i'm here in austin... well, actually, today i'm in houston visiting my aunt and her husband. i expected this transition to be quite hard, but i'm actually happy. my apartment is working out. i'm about to start some really good classes. like being in atlanta, i enjoy the freedom that i have. my latest challenge, getting to know the people in my program. it has nothing to do with them being the complete opposite of a typical spelmanite - or maybe it has everything to do with it. i've met some cool women who will run this year's gender symposium. most of the other people also seem normal... so far. only time will tell what is to come.

meanwhile - given a moment to vent - has anyone noticed the incorporation of "hip hop" music/culture into back-to-school commercials? really, "we like backpacks and we cannot lie"??? and if i see one more suburban kid in hip hop arizona jeans i'm going to scream. also, what the hell is going on with samuel l jackson's new movie? better yet what was he thinking when he stepped in front of a camera with his hair like that? is tht how he proves his street cred on the big screen? just a thought.

the g-unit tees

there is a recent fashion trend among black men in america... i think the first person to appear in these odd-looking tank tops was 50 cent. they are similar to "wife beaters," though the straps are thinner and often multi-colored. i just don't get it. i thought that 50 looked weird during some of his recent appearances, but i couldn't really pinpoint the problem. then, recently, i've noticed grown ass men around the city of atl wearing the same shirts. you can tell that they feel like the ultimate sex symbol (that for some reason people assume 50 to be). but instead of looking masculine and cool the shirts are actually kind of feminine. i just don't get it.

today was a good day

so this is officially my favorite part of the year to live in atlanta... the weather is sunny and warm. the flowers are in full bloom. ok, i know that sounds really corny. today i slept in for the first time in at least a week. got my oil changed (and it was half off with a coupon i found this morning!) found a good parking spot at school. finally found a thesis statement for my senior thesis... moya and i went to cheesecake for a late lunch and got drinks... don't sleep on lunch @ cheesecake... went to my film class. made progress on my documentary. now i'm going home to eat dinner. what more can i ask for?

response to moya on gizoogle

ok... so i went to the google thing. i don't get it. even more, i think it's disgusting. people should be mad at snoop, and i'm waiting for the day when black people will get mad at black celebrities -like snoop- for allowing white people to pimp our culture. they need to understand that these are not acts of respect or appreciation. it's beyond cooning. it reminded me of middle school, when my white friends suddenly discovered black culture that their parents were oblivious to. so many of them made jokes about snoop and black music and dancing in general. and there i was sitting and thinking, this is MY culture you're talking about... then all of a sudden black culture (within my circle of white friends) becomes something to emulate. but it doesn't bring them any closer to black people. snoop will never understand what it's like to feel like an outsider among the people you grew up with because of your race.