I grew up as one out of a handful of black pre-teens in what would become metropolitan Atlanta’s most diverse counties. I was my then best friend’s first black pal. Her father loved to address me in twanged jive talk every time we met. He did not intend to offend me. Rather, his poor attempt at slang intended to woo me into a continued friendship with a daughter who had social issues of her own. My feelings were hurt all the same. 

I have since encountered many friends and professional acquaintances that flavor up their dialogue with slang in a feeble attempt to appease me. I confront some of them and brush off others. Almost every case is the same. There is no harm intended – just a desire to relate or appear hip. I am aggravated nonetheless. Never would I expect to hear such utterances from Senator Hillary Clinton.  

Political pandering is an expected by-product of an out of control election process. On Earth Day, candidates suddenly go eco-crazy. In the presence of the everyman, they speak of the woes of the poor and then pat the backs of the affluent as they reach for donation checks. This pandering is not rare, nor should we shun it. A prospective leader must reach out to the entire nation and its many factions.  

Reaching out does not include channeling Mr. Ed and drawling out a church hymn in the presence of civil rights leaders. Relating is certainly not comparing oneself to Harriet Tubman. What will this master politician do next to court the collective black vote – record a duet with 50 Cent? She recently held a fundraiser with Timbaland. Anything is possible. 

I am accustomed to political pandering, but Senator Clinton’s verbal blackface is downright insulting. What appalls me most is the acquiescence of so-called leaders to her blunderings. Are we to accept what amounts to a tap dance across a stage to gain our affections? Why do they still insist on marketing to us a monolithic collective unlike our brethren of other races? Are African-Americans not a race of varying beliefs, classes, statures and mores’? 

I love Bill, but Hillary’s insidious displays remind me of that lone reprehensible white man who would frequent the Freaknics of yesteryear and would slither up and moan to us, “You know I like Black people, don’t ya?”  It sounds like jive talk to me.november dawn is a writer whose work has garnered critical acclaim for its ability to integrate issues of business, politics and popular culture into unique hybrid narrative forms. Her choreoplay, “Sunshine for a Midnight Weary,” was commended by the Los Angeles Times and LA Weekly. The piece was also nominated for an NAACP Theater Award for Best Choreography and was mounted, in part, in New York. She has authored two books, “Cries of a Young Girl” and “the dawning,” on the market. A former video-journalist, she also uses her expertise to orchestrate communications campaigns for the corporate sector. She is a tireless advocate of human decency and respect…no matter how she gets it across. 

Update: I invite you to check out an insightful article by The Daily Telegraph’s Toby Harnden regarding this matter.

I was still on the elevator when I heard the roar coming from the convention hall. I assumed that a faithful few would convene to discuss Senator Barack Obama’s Saturday rally at Georgia Tech. I entered the convention hall to find hundreds packed in for what would become one part revival and one part strategy session.

I am on the latter cusp of Generation X. Despite labels of lazy and self-entitled thrown at my peers and me, I am a proud and rightful heir of the baton from the civil rights generation. In this conventional hall, swollen to its seams with patriots of many hues, stand young adults ready to run with that baton. Their passion is energetic and kinetic. Their fire leaps onto the elders as everyone shouts, “Yes we can!”

The Senator’s staff talked about healthcare, education and the war in Iraq. Most of all, they spoke of the active stake that every citizen has in the course our great country. We are just months into what is certain to become a long election season. I do not have a crystal ball that predicts where this campaign will stack amongst the rest. What I do know is that Senator Barack Obama and his team are engaging everyday people and empowering them to take action in a strategic manner. That alone is a breath of fresh air.

november dawn is a writer whose work has garnered critical acclaim for its ability to integrate issues of business, politics and popular culture into unique hybrid narrative forms. Her choreoplay, “Sunshine for a Midnight Weary,” was commended by the Los Angeles Times and LA Weekly. The piece was also nominated for an NAACP Theater Award for Best Choreography and was mounted, in part, in New York. She has authored two books, “Cries of a Young Girl” and “the dawning,” on the market. A former video-journalist, she also uses her expertise to orchestrate communications campaigns for the corporate sector. She is a tireless advocate of human decency and respect…no matter how she gets it across.

Barack Obama is committed to changing the political process by building a campaign built on a broad base of support from ordinary Americans. I have set my own personal fundraising goal for the campaign. Will you make a donation to help me reach my goal? http://my.barackobama.com/page/outreach/view/main/novemberdawn  

I sensed that bad news was coming by the way the doctor and nurse entered the room. My heart still raced from the twenty-minute dash from my office. Now, the exam room’s white walls cave in on me as I wait on someone, anyone, to deliver my results. My doctor, speaking in an unusually measured tone, finally says, “There is an abnormality on your MRI.” I forget how to speak. I forget how to breathe. My silence permits the doctor to elaborate on the possibilities of a brain tumor, aneurysm, infection or multiple sclerosis. I must be crying because the nurse hands me a wad of tissues. My doctor begs me to remain calm knowing that his request is in vain. How could I? There was something foreign on my brain and I could not get it off my mind – literally. 

I call my mother, hours away in Kentucky, and relay my doctors’ instructions to have someone look after me. She, being a perfect mother, announces that she will drive down tomorrow. Being an okay daughter, I hustle to the grocery store as I always do when she visits. I walk down the aisles and my full-figured frame seems dwarfed by the freezers. The entire world becomes so large and it engulfs me in its folds. 

No sooner than my mom’s arrival, my doctors admit me to the hospital. We pass the time reading the newspaper. My mother had long considered moving back to Atlanta. The situation makes her choice an easy one. In between what seems like a million needle pricks and MRIs, she combs through the classifieds for a job. A listing catches her eye. My employer is looking for a bright, driven professional to do my job. I want to kick and scream, but the EKG wires constrain me. It is a good thing. If I do have an aneurysm, too much stress is deadly. 

I return home and start the agonizing process of telling friends and family. Some freak out. Others pepper me with questions for which I do not have an answer.  

No, I do not know what “it” is.
Yes, I prayed about it.
No, I do not know if I am going to die.   The silence that follows is worse. My phone rings less and less. Friends that would race to accompany me to exclusive parties or film premiers mysteriously go missing. If they do call, the topic of my health does not enter the conversation. To them, I am merely on vacation – a Dawn on sabbatical set to return another day. I know better. I am stuck in a one-bedroom apartment with my mother with no job, no visible friends and something on my mind that is wrecking havoc on my body.  I want to receive an awakening that makes life’s nectar sweeter. Instead, the solitude forces me to say good-bye to myself. The social butterfly juggling a million projects had to go. Left in her place is a shell ready for filling. Faith, already in abundance, increases. Dreams surpass the desire to just get by. Where there was bitterness, forgiveness prevails. My ability to create things from nothing becomes the metaphor for my life. Stripped down to nothing, I have the awesome responsibility of rebuilding myself into something better.   Writing becomes a mighty weapon. The duo of pen and paper effortlessly cuts through the comments, questions and the loneliness. I suddenly realize that this malady is one of the best things to happen to me. Somewhere in the midst of the pain and seizures, is a catalyst pushing me to live better.  

I write vigorously. With each sentence, I gain a better understanding of myself. My choreoplay debuts in Los Angeles. When my heart sinks because I am not well enough to see it, I write. When film projects fall through due to my lack of strength, I write. Throughout the misdiagnosis and false starts to treatment, I write. Even when I discover that this spot on my brain is a rare and incurable tumor, I write.  

The oddity of it all is that I have been fighting to keep “me” in tact. I mourn the Dawn that was, so ignorant of the Dawn that can be. My perceived value diminishes every time I use a wheelchair or walker. In moments like these, I look at my mother’s houseplants. I study the care she takes in cutting off the dead stems. Something, more beautiful, blooms in their place. I cannot help but to wonder, if the same could go for me. So, I say “good-bye” to myself and “hello” to a stronger me. It might be a wounded me, but it’s a better me.

november dawn is a writer whose work has garnered critical acclaim for its ability to integrate issues of business, politics and popular culture into unique hybrid narrative forms. Her choreoplay, “Sunshine for a Midnight Weary,” was commended by the Los Angeles Times and LA Weekly. The piece was also nominated for an NAACP Theater Award for Best Choreography and was mounted, in part, in New York. She has authored two books, “Cries of a Young Girl” and “the dawning,” on the market. A former video-journalist, she also uses her expertise to orchestrate communications campaigns for the corporate sector. She is a tireless advocate of human decency and respect…no matter how she gets it across.

On “The Today Show,” Stephen Baldwin embodied all that is wrong with many modern-day evangelical Christians. The former bad boy dismissed Bono’s efforts to eradicate debt and AIDS in Africa. It seems that the born-again actor feels that Bono’s time is best spent spreading The Gospel in his concerts.

It is true that evangelizing is the highest of Christian duties. Castigating another believer for their efforts to better the world does little to bring others into the fold. All too often, Christian celebrities are quick to grace the covers of magazines. They flock to conferences, television shows and revivals.

They are missing in action in poor neighborhoods as young boys decide if they are going to become drug dealers or doctors. Homelessness is as prevalent as ever. Women still come to church with three layers of makeup on to hide the bruises from their husband’s punch. Teenage girls – some evangelical Christians – embrace promiscuity with one hand and the Bible with the other. Yet, Pat Robertson wants to assassinate world leaders who do not fall in sync with the American way of thinking.

What must be assassinated is our hypocrisy. If we are going to be that “City on the Hill,” then we must elevate our thoughts and remove ourselves from the elementary mudslinging associated with politics and Hollywood. We do not have time to wag the finger of shame. As I stated in my choreoplay, ”You got your own garden. Why sling dirt in mine? These little imperfections I own are what makes me, me. And until you walk on water, I suggest you let me be. “

Let’s rid ourselves of our judgmental tongues become a body that the rest of the world will want to embrace. Maybe then, the Stephen Baldwins and Pat Robertsons of the world would not have to throw stones to get some attention.

ARE YOU A BLUE PERSON IN A RED STATE? Want to remind everyone that hey you actually do exist?! ARE YOU A BLUE PERSON ANYWHWERE? Want to remind the world that you are still here and NOT going anywhere?! (Sorry Canada) Want to change this country for the better in 2006 and 2008? Want to start fighting NOW? Want to inspire others to do the same? And do it all in a positive, non-divisive, future-focused way? Then this is the store for you! In fact this may be the only store for you! Show them every Blue Voice is still here and growing louder everyday! Reclaim the Red! MAKE IT HAPPEN!!! LET THEM KNOW YOU’RE HERE!!!

The media is swarming with stories on Mel Gibson’s arrest for drunk driving and his repulsive reaction to a Jewish officer. In light of The Passion of the Christ and its alleged themes of anti-Semitism, many are happy to use this latest incident as proof of Gibson’s prejudice. Power agent Ari Emanuel is requesting the Hollywood community to cease their dealings with the A-lister. Not surprisingly, ABC has halted development of a mini-series with Gibson’s Icon Productions that deals with the Holocaust. Disney has decided to move full speed ahead on Mel’s latest mega production Apocalypto. Barbara Walters even got in on the act announcing on The View that she will no longer watch the star’s movies.

As a minority and a Christian, I abhor racial and religious intolerance. Blaming alcohol as an excuse for hate is unconscionable. Drinking three shots too many only brings out the jerk within. It does not manufacture one and it certainly does not make you say things that you do not believe. My gripe with Hollywood’s reaction to Gibson’s embarrassment is that it is not consistent with its outrage.

When Paris Hilton called an aspiring black designer the n-word, we barely heard a peep. There were certainly no cries from Hollywood to derail her acting, modeling or singing career. According to The Smoking Gun, phone transcripts from an angry voicemail from Charlie Sheen to Denise Richards revealed that he called her the n-word. We still see him every week on 2½ Men. While the hip-hop community has adulterated the term, it is still hate speech. Where are the Hollywood powerbrokers protesting these atrocities? What does Barbara Walters have to say? Perhaps she is too busy offending black women thanks to her incessant need to touch and grope her African-American guest host’s hair, inquire if it is real, and call their children “creatures.”

My point is simple. Equal hate deserves equal outrage, unless Hollywood feels that some races are more important than others are.

november dawn has garnered critical acclaim for her ability to integrate issues of politics and popular culture into unique hybrid narrative forms. Her choreoplay, “Sunshine for a Midnight Weary,” was commended by the Los Angeles Times and LA Weekly. The piece was also nominated for an NAACP Theater Award for Best Choreography and was mounted, in part, in New York. In addition, the Atlanta Film Festival recognized one of her screenplays, “Poor Man’s Blues,” as a semi-finalist in its 2004 Perfect Pitch Competition. She has two books, Cries of a Young Girl and the dawning, on the market. The former video-journalist is also freelance copywriter for the corporate and nonprofit sectors. She is a tireless advocate of human decency and respect…no matter how she gets it across.

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