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Big Announcement: New Blogs – Race in DC.com and BlackGirlEverything.com

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As many of you know I fractured my wrist in a car accident earlier this year. In the above photo I am at breakfast, having been out of the hospital for about a week. The wrist fracture sucked not only because my wrist was broken, but because it set me back in terms of my projects.

Well, I am happy to announce that I have completed two of the projects that I have been working on, the blogs BlackGirlEverything.com and RaceinDC.com.

I created Black Girl Everything, because I wanted to see a space online for Black girls that looked good and had good content. I created RaceinDC because many of the spaces online that discuss race in the city leave me wanting.  I also think that there are not enough conversations that are archived publicly about race and the city. If we can’t name the issue we can’t change the issue, and so I see RaceinDC as a space for social change.

Lastly, I am self publishing two books next year. The first one will be The Miseducation of All City: Essays on Race, East Oakland and Prep School.  If you want to receive updates on my new projects, sign up to receive the NMM Labs updates newsletter. Needless to say, I am excited. Here is a preview of the book cover.


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I am also putting together a set of essays of a book about Black women in popular culture. I haven’t decided on a title yet, but I will share that once it becomes available.

So thank you for your kind words and for telling me “I will not pay for blog  posts but I will buy whatever you sell.” I listened and I am producing and selling my work.

Let me know what you think about the blogs. I told myself that I would launch on 12.12.12 and I kept my word. Keeping my word to myself feels awesome.

You working on anything creative? Let me know. #blackgirlsarefromthefuture.

~Allcity

When A I Loved One Commits Suicide

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It has taken me nearly a year to deal with the suicide of my play little brother Matteo.

I felt like shit when I first learned, nearly a year ago. In fact, I just laid on the floor and cried. When I saw that I had a phone call from a 510 number late on a Sunday night, I knew something was wrong; no one calls me from home that late unless something is wrong.

The day after I learned he passed, I still taught my class, but I mentioned to my students that someone close to me died, someone who was around their age.

Then I went to Ben’s with Jerm the Perm to eat wings. #NOTtheappropriatewayofdealingwithaDeath.

It really felt like shit to be there for my students, but not be able to be there for someone that I consider to be family, and I’ve held on to that until I went to Oakland three weeks ago and formally grieved his death.

You see, Matteo and I were close because I baby-sat him when I was in high school. When I say baby-sat I mean, 8 hours on Saturday, and 8 hours on Sunday. 16 hours per weekend for most of high school.
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I had just spoken to Matteo last August right before comps, just to catch up. I am glad that I was insistent about making a point to meet speak to him and find out how school and work was going. I remember sending him a few text messages in order to set up a time. Normally, that process annoys me, but I did it, it felt right.

What was useful about grieving the loss of him in Oakland, is that I finally came to understand that he was in so much pain, and was ready to go then there was nothing that I could do about it, unless he wanted help. At the same time, I wish, if he were in that much pain, that he would have reached out to me.

So, while I was in Oakland, I made a short movie and walked around his/our old neighborhood. It was then that I felt better. I don’t think I’ll ever be the same again. But there was something cathartic about walking around the neighborhood and remember which street to avoid because they had two pit bulls in the yard and which house had the great garden tended by the Vietnamese grand mother.

After I made the video, I walked down to the Farmers Market and I saw someone who looked just like him, tall, White, early twenties, box jaw, I almost jumped out of my fucking skin. But I suspect that that is simply apart of the process. I just bought some fancy pesto and kept on walking.

Have you ever dealt with the loss of a loved one?

What was your process?

Can You Explain to Me What a “Ho Tape” Is?

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I think that one of the reasons why some Black women have a hard time talking about Black women’s sexuality within academic settings is because of the emotional dexterity and vulnerability that comes along with doing so.

For instance, there is a line of feedback in my paper that says “Can you explain what a ho tape is”? Now it makes sense that the professor reading my paper asked this question because it is legitimate.

You have to think about the context. She has several statements asking me to clarify my methodology, to get to my analysis, suggestions on verb usage, suggestions on how to be a more precise writer. All of which I am hella grateful for.

But it is also a bugged out thing to read first, because I came up with the idea of “ho tapes” three years ago, and so it is also audacious for me to put my own kinda blog theorizing in my academic work.

FYI, for me “ho tapes” are the internal voice that Black women hear when they are debating whether or not to engage in a sexual act. Often times, the politics of respectability play a role, and I theorize that frequently our “ho tapes” stop us from experiencing pleasure, or they allow us to center the pleasure of another while making our own secondary. #buggedout?

But there is also something very surreal about Black women’s sexuality being taken seriously in this context. It reminds me that it I am very fortunate to be able to study Black women’s sexuality, to put my own ideas out there and for them to be taken seriously. This process also forces me to clarify what I mean when I come up with new terms, which is a good practice.
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So, Josephine, I know you miss our discussions, I miss them to, but please believe you are with me because i have put you and so many of my friends in my work.

Maybe I am on to something here. Maybe writing is less lonely when you have your friends in it, ho tapes and all.

 

What do you think of the idea of a Ho Tape?

Isn’t it awkward to have to justify something like this in an academic setting?

The irony is that Black women are called “ho’s” in Black communities and in some pop culture spaces…all the time.

A Thin Line Between Protection and Domination: Thoughts About that Cleveland Bus Video

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Last week, I reached out to @sassycrass and @dopegirlfresh because I wanted to write about the thin line between protection and domination for Black women. Lo and behold, it appears that the opportunity to write about the issue has made itself known sooner than I expected.

When I talk about the thin line between protection and domination I am thinking about many things including gender roles, race and street harassment.

Ultimately, the thin line between protection and domination rests on the reasoning that if a person states that you deserve to be protected because of the body that you come in, then it stands to reason that that same reasoning assumes that you can expect to be dominated because of the body that you come in. This kind of thinking has to be taken to its logical end.

As a Black woman who doesn’t take shit off of anyone I deal with a whole of street harassment in DC. For me street harassment is a kind of racial profiling because when I am in a White area of DC (Du Pont Circle in particular) and I see how Black men fuck with me in ways that they do not attempt to do so towards White women who are nearby, it is so clear to me that this is a racialized and gendered act.

I cringed when I saw how the bus driver hit the woman in the video largely because I am reminded of how Black women are, in the streets and in pop culture are often times hyper masculinized, rendered as men and dominated by default if they step out of acceptable gender roles.

Full stop. If she was talking shit to him, and she hit him, she should have been taken off the bus and handed over to the authorities. Bus drivers already have enough bullshit to deal with.
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Hitting her was wrong not because she was a woman, it was wrong because you do not have a right to put your hands on anyone. Nor did she. As the person of authority in the situation it was his job to descalate and contain the situation and continue to get the folks on the bus from point A to point B.

In choosing to hit her the way that he did, the image read as “I will teach this Bitch a lesson.” And he did. Based on the way that he hit her, I am led to think that if he had a gun, he would have shot her.

Thoughts?

Do you ever think about the thin line between protection and domination?

Why does it matter what size she was?

 

Black Women Who Run from Their Genius (May) Make Themselves Sick. ~Kathleen Collins

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Kathleen Collins on the set of her film Losing Ground

I have been obsessed and fascinated with Kathleen Collins for the last year. She is a Black woman filmmaker, a film professor, a momma, she attended Skidmore and the Sorbonne. She died in 1988 of cancer at 46.

First I learned about her from Jaqueline Bobo’s Black Women Film and Video Directors, and then I saw her film Losing Ground (1982) and lastly I just read an article about her by Black film scholar, L.H. Stallings.

Collins says several things in her Black Film Review Interview that you can read here, but I just want to summarize the parts that have been meaningful to me.

BLACK WOMEN WHO RUN FROM THEIR GENIUS MAY MAKE THEMSELVES SICK

My basic premise is ithat all illness is a psychic connection of some kind.. And I had a preiod of time when I was ill. I still have to struggle with it. The nature of illness and female succcess and the capacity of the female to acknowlege its own intelligence is a subject that interests me a lot . because I think that women– if there’s anyway that I am a feminist, because I don’t really think of myself as a feminist, because I don’t really think of myself as a feminist– but if there is any way in which women tend to be self destructive it is in that area of creaticity where they actually feel their own power and can’t aknowlege it or go into it with as much…

They can’t go to the end of it and they retreat into ilness or into having too many babies or into destructive love affairs with men who run them ragged. Somewhere or other, they detour out of a respect for their own creativity.

Let me say first off that I do not agree that all illness that Black women experience is a result of a psychic disconnection. However, I do think there is something to be said about what happens to our bodies when we ignore the genius in our hearts and our minds when it pertains to making art.

I read this a year ago. However it was reading it last month that I was floored by not only this idea but the following statement, which has to do with the fact that she felt like her own illness was connected to a fear of her own genius.

WHEN DID COLLINS BECOME ILL?
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I think that it is very curious, curiously at a point and time when I had just finished a first movie, and knew that I had it, knew that I had the talent. Knew that my own creative power was finally surfacing, that all the years of working quietly , and quite alone, were beginning to pay off. It was basically  a long four year cycle.

Collins died in 1988 at 46 years old of cancer. It is interesting that she felt like she became ill right when she felt the power of her own creativity.

ON BEING AFRAID OF BEING ALONE AS AN ARTIST

I think I have been afraid of being alone too much,  I think that’s what was connected  to the illness. That fear that I was going to be considered nuts kind of frightened me.

This really resonated with me, not because of the fear of being seen as being eccentric; it is the fear that in order to take it to the next level I am going to have to be separated from the people that I Love. I now realize that in order to grow the voltron, I have to branch out into new spaces. I also have to have faith that my Love bears will be there when I return; that they will understand. I have also come to the conclusion this weekend, that I need to be able to be out, but I also need consistent environments so that I can hear my own ideas. Too much noise drowns out the thoughts.

ON THE INTERIOR LIVES OF BLACK WOMEN AND BLACK PEOPLE

There are real conflicts, but they are not necessarily conflicts with a capital C. All internal conflict is the only thing that is really real. Where you’re right is in saying that American culture tends to like conflict with a capital c.

This spoke to me for three reasons. One I have known that taking care of my interior life would be key to my survival for a few years now, and this crystallized for me, after re-reading Their Eyes Were Watching God. Two, Junot Diaz has been speaking in his interviews about writing the interior lives of women while on tour promoting his new book. Third, one of the reasons why I chose qualitative interviews as my method is because I am interested in the interior lives of Black women.

In Kathleen Collins I see myself and I am trying not to run. My homie Jonzey said, you need to start a binder, because you are probably going to end up writing a biography of her. She is probably right 🙂

What do you think of this idea of Black women running from their genius making them sick?

Do you agree or disagree? Why?