On Mother’s Day: The Would be Superhero who Fears Being an Emotionally Arrested Black Mother

Since I was a little a brown girl, I have always secretly wanted to save the world. Yes, the whole big world. To say the least, I was utterly enthralled with movies like Indian Jones and the last Crusade to the point of obscene dissidence to the 80s generational black-uplift narrative of being a lawyer like Clair Huxtable. Oh no, I wanted to be an archeologist like Indian Jones. Can you see it? Me, chocolate face black girl, dawning the traditional beige musky hat of the archaeologist to uncover some man-made or supernatural plot to destroy the world. I tell you, this desire to save the damaged and brokenness of humanity is something I came into the world with. I see it as part of my soul assignment to help people know who they are and to uncover their soul names. But, somehow all of this—saving the world . . . helping people discover their inner names—got misconfigured by growing up in a violent home.

I killed my Black Mother and Now I am a Real Black Man: 14 year-old Black Boy Kills Mother?

httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KNI58Qc8pRY

14 year old black boy says: “I want to be one of the big black boys.” 

14 year old black boy says: “So, I killed my black mother with a twelve gauge shot gun.”

Since when does killing your black mother make you a big boy? I know this is the Black Youth Project and we are advocates for black youth, but sometimes you have to pause and say, “Who told you son that killing your black mother would make you a man?” Have we cheapened . . . completely extinguished the experiences and voices of black boyhood that now to enter into black manhood, our sons must kill their mothers. Yes, kill their black mothers. Since when did killing black mothers become a Rites of Passage program? As a bone-a-fide black feminist who often writes about black women and black girlhood, we need to develop a national Rites of Passage program for young black men. And, yes, I know the issue is not simply behavioral that systems of oppression—racism, sexism, heterosexism, class, and many others—shape access to resources and definitions of manhood. But, when a black boy says, “I want to be one of the big black boys, So, I killed my black mother with a twelve gauge shot gun because she told me I could not play with them,” we need to develop quickly ways and outlets for young black men to know they have become men.

“There’s a stirring in My Soul”: Conservatives have an Anti-Woman Agenda up their Sleeve

Like most children, I told lies when I was a little black girl. I told big lies. I told small lies. I told white lies. I told lies. And, even had the audacity to argue with my “all seeing all knowing” do-as-I-say-not-as-I-do black grandmother about the usage of lie over her usage of “telling a story.” What does telling a story have to do with telling a lie? I tell you, this infuriated me. I prefer the word lie. Even though my grandmother and I had many disagreements over the terming of untruths often leaving my backside sore with resentment, she had a remarkable almost supernatural way of knowing when I, her precocious granddaughter, was telling her a lie. She would say with a type of black woman resolve, There’s a stirring in the pot . . . there’s a stirring in my soul,” and before she could finish her statement I knew she knew that I had lied. And, boy did my sore backside know it too. And, so in the tradition of my no nonsense black grandmother, I say, “There’s a stirring in the pot . . . there’s a stirring in my soul that something is amidst in Conservatives—religious fundamentalist, Republicans, Tea Party Members—grand desire to restrict or completely annihilate US’ women’s right to choose.

Komen, Just in Case you decide Once Again to Screw Planned Parenthood: Some Helpful Sisterly Advice, Hell No!!

httpv://youtu.be/yF3p2FLArhY

Dear Sister (i.e. Komen Organization),

Like many of your supporters, I was utterly disheartened by your hasty decision to severe ties with Planned Parenthood because of the unfounded legal witch hunt of Pro-life Congressman Cliff Stearns launched. As one of the few national health organizations that support women and girl’s health, it deeply saddens me that you, like a fearful child afraid of scolding, scurried blindly away from another sister health organization in her time of epic crisis. Though your mission may not explicitly say “sisterhood” or seek to build “sisterhood” among women, your focus on women’s breast implicitly makes that claim. So, I am writing you this letter as a sister holding another sister albeit sister organization (i.e. Komen Organization) accountable for how she treats another sister organization (i.e. Planned Parenthood).

Let me just say this point blank, you don’t get to scurry away from Planned Parenthood. As a sister, you dig your heels into the ground and say,

“These are my boundaries, you can talk about my Jesus . . . the clothes I have on, but HELL NO don’t you dare talk about my sister (i.e. Planned Parenthood) . . . for if you cross that line I will not cower away and lick my wounds . . . I will fight you. Do you hear me? I will fight you.”

It is this spirit of fighting for your sister organization, Planned Parenthood, which you seem to lack even though you rescinded your decision not to fund Planned Parenthood. And, let me also say that no man, Congressman Cliff Stearns, or institution, the Right, should be able to take you, a national women’s organization that touts support among thousands of women in the US, away from your sister organization Planned Parenthood. For if they are able to do so, you become no better than the many backstabbing melodramas that confound women on reality TV shows like Mob Wives or Atlanta House Wives. You become another example of women not being able to work together. You become what men have always thought women to be “weak.” Honestly, you do more harm to womankind than the breast cancer you work to
eradicate.

What would the World be Like if all Little Black Girls Were Treated Like Ms. Blue Ivy Carter

httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RR9NNyT5yEA

What if we treated every little girl of color like we treat Ms. Blue Ivy Carter? What would the world be like if everyone in the world waited with breath held for every little girl of color Spirit to divinely make their grand entree into this world because as Jay Z so methodically rapped in Glory, they are, “Destiny’s Child?” What would the world be like if every father, husband, brother, uncle, nephew, and son made a verbal, but, most importantly, a soul abiding commitment to banishing the shrieking vows and consonants that congeal the five letter word for female dog? What would happen if they did this?

What would happen if every person in the world devoutly and fundamentalist-ly believed that girls of color had a profound purpose? Would they seek as Joseph Mbeh sought with Ms. Blue Ivy Carter’s name to trademark all little girls of color names saying to themselves in the way men often say to themselves about woman-kind, “Let us own them, let us make them ours for we know the brilliancy of their minds.”

What would the world be like?

Post Thanksgiving Thoughts on Black Feminism: "My Great Aunt Made Me Go There"

So, yesterday was Thanksgiving and all I can say is that my great aunt pushed the ultimate button and questioned why I consider myself a feminist. I tried to ignore her comments about feminists being lesbians. I tried to take the higher ground when she said, “Our men need for women to help them, cook for them . . . be their neck and that’s the only way the black community will survive.” I tried . . . but then she said feminists have not done anything for the black community, but to divide it. And, then I said, “If it was not for black feminism I could not tolerate let alone love your alcoholic abusive nephew (i.e. my father).” Yes, I said exactly that and the whole house became quiet. And, of course, she was very offended and left. But, all this got me to thinking about why I am a black feminist.