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.