Sister Escape

Opinion Piece: Mental Health Advocacy in Education

noreply@blogger.com (Fiore Scott) — Thu, 27 Sep 2012 16:52:00 +0000

Why does it take tragedy for people to react or care about certain issues? There is still a stigma regarding those suffering from mental health problems and the public, media, and politicians fail to understand and discuss, and therefore create and institute solutions and policies that will help support those dealing with mental health issues. Mental health is too prevalent an issue to continue to be overlooked and considered such a taboo subject. Tragedies like the Tucson movie theater shooting, Wisconsin Sikh temple shooting, Columbine High School massacre, or Virginia Tech shooting make us examine gun issues, and sometimes mental health issues, for a few weeks, but the public and politicians easily forget or push to the back of their minds such problems for more comfortable areas. However, with the growing prevalence of mental health cases in children, increasing school violence, the media’s linkage of violence and mental instability, the increasing occurrence of mass violence and shootings, police presence in schools and often unnecessary student detention, and the necessity of general education reform- mental health advocacy and proper education reform targeting mental health support is extremely necessary regionally and nationally.

In education reform, the health of the student can no longer be overlooked. According to the National Alliance on Mental Illness (2006): “Four million children and adolescents in this country suffer from a serious mental disorder that causes significant functional impairments at home, at school and with peers”. America wants to remain competitive with other international powers and focuses on education as a means to do so. We have implemented rigourous testing standards, teaching reforms to improve teacher effectiveness, and various other reforms to target improvement in student achievement. However, not enough attention has been paid towards improving mental health support in schools, ensuring proper diagnosis, and ensuring that students are supported not treated as criminals. Those involved in school policy making have long acknowledged the necessity of proper support mechanisms and have created initatives funding problem prevention, professional MH staff, and various organizational intervention in schools (UCLA Center for Mental Health in Schools, 2006).

However, the reality is, not enough is being done for student suffering from mental illness and their education is suffering because of it. According to the National Alliance on Mental Illness (2006), “approximately 50% of students with a mental disorder age 14 and older drop out of high school”. Even more concerning, “1 in 5 children have a diagnosable mental disorder” (H.R. 751, 2011) .There is also plenty of evidence that the problem with mental health in education often falls back towards a lack of funding. With school districts nationwide facing million dollar deficits and state funding being cut to soften budget blows, policies in place targeting mental health often marginalize students instead of adequately supporting them.

Education reform must begin to target adequate funding for mental health support systems and must provide coverage that creates comprehensive support communities. In particular, policies must focus on the development and proper funding and implementation of early intervention programs, where students are properly diagnosed by certified professionals and receive adequate attention and focused mental health support. Legislation such as the Mental Health in Schools Act (H.R. 751), which unfortunately has stalled in the House, targeting expanding projects and funding for comprehensive school-based mental health support programs nationwide, must get on the state and national agenda (Mental Health America, 2011). Currently, some states have invested in mental health programing through use of the Integration of Schools and Mental Health Systems grants from the federal government (Department of Education, n.d.), however with only 16-18 awards granted during 2010, ranging between $150,900-$400,000, not enough states or school districts are investing the necessary funds and energy into mental health support programming. Also, many current programs in place are competing for limited funds or are ineffective in actually supporting students.

Policies must be inacted that not only supports progressive support programs, but also investigates their effectiveness and ensures that students are not be over- or under diagnosed and given sufficient support helping them manage their mental health. Educators and education reformers must also stop targetting students living with mental health challenges as criminals. The mass majority of students with mental illness are non-violent. With increasing evidence of school districts utilizing 'school to prison' pipelines (NewsOne, 2012), which often target mentally handicapped students and those suffering from mental illness like depression and ADHD, state and federal Department of Justice intervention is increasingly necessary to make sure that the rights of students with mental illnesses are not abused.

Taking care of students’ mental health will help improve student achievement, systimatic improvement to the systems already in place, which help treat and support these students, will advance an education system struggling to properly educate and support its students, and will help create a learning community and positive learning enviornment where students, especially those suffering from mental illness, can succeed.

Leave Gabby Alone!

noreply@blogger.com (Le Chele ) — Fri, 03 Aug 2012 13:30:00 +0000

I've been very excited about the Olympic this year. So of course I have been very proud of America's female Olympic team, especially Gabrielle Douglas. The 16-year old from Virginia Beach twisted, tumbled, flipped and twirled her way to win a gold medal yesterday.

Apparently the journey has presented plenty of challenges to young Gabby. She injured her hamstring and consequently fell a few times during the U.S. nationals. But with hard work, including practicing six to seven times a day, she was able to travel with the United States and join the Olympic team this year.

But what are people focusing on? Her hair. No seriously. My friend informed me that her hair was a target of controversy in the past two days. Apparently people-mostly black women- were annoyed that her hair was not presentable and even embarrassing her fellow black people. Thankfully there were sensible, respectful people who defended her and retorted, "She just won a gold medal! What the hell is your problem?!"

This blog is about mental health with a focus on the black community. At first it may appear as if this post is off topic but I told my friend I had to blog about this story in particular. It is because I was Gabby, in fact we all were. Words, that is our interactions with people affect our emotional well being. Women, especially black women, are held to ridiculously high beauty standards. Even worse, we harshly scrutinize other women's appearances, further contributing to the oppressive treatment of women. This is one of the causes of the cycle of low self-esteem that plagues our community.

We were all sixteen once. And when I was sixteen, I was fragile, impressionable and sensitive. Gabby is only sixteen and she is a public figure. She's not an entertainer like Miley Cyrus or Justin Beiber. She's an athlete and her appearance is not a real factor in her occupation. She excels in what she does and is quite phenomenal. How awful it is for petty people who potentially take away from her happiness to criticize her for her hair of all things!

Then I realized how deep the importance of hair is for many black women. This is a very general statement but as a black woman who has had her share of shade from other black women, I can attest that black women place a lot of their esteem into their hair. Our hair is commonly referred to as our glory and for the most part I can dig it. But too often does hair become something that makes us insecure. In other words, many black women cannot go anywhere without their hair done. This insecurity pours over to other people. Our insecurities have the potential to cause great harm to others, Gabby in particular.

Gabrielle Douglass is now being torn apart because her hair is not up to par. Hopefully, she is mature and confident enough to ignore the shallow criticism, and celebrate her recent accomplishments. But I worry that this would be too big of a feat for the teenager and the negativity will overshadow her success. So I ask you to be respectful of Gabby and recognize that a few years ago, she was you. Only, you probably did not have a gold medal.

This post is cross listed at LeChele's new blog on black people and mental health issues, Black with the Blues.

The Dark Knight Rises? Not Really.

noreply@blogger.com (Fiore Scott) — Fri, 20 Jul 2012 23:45:00 +0000

As I sat in the movie theater and watched the credits scroll down the screen I felt my blood pressure rise and my anger mount. This movie was all that I had hoped it wouldn't be.

*Spoiler Alert*

Folks, have you ever heard of a Batman that just up and leaves the city that created him to start a new life? Forget Gotham City, I got me a woman and I'm good to go. Forget the possibility of more insane criminals running around in the very place I almost killed myself multiple times trying to protect. Hello, did anyone notice Scarecrow just chilling as Judge in the court of death by exile? And how about Batman not knowing, and from the way the movie came off, not caring to check to see if Bane died or survived?

Nope, no siree. This man was no Batman. And this, at best, was a lackluster, lazy presentation of one of the greatest heroes of all time.

The very being of Batman exists because of Gotham. Bruce Wayne exists because of Batman. The criminals that come to torment Gotham City exist because of Batman. It's all circular but somehow Christopher Nolan just up and decided to cut a giant part of that circle out. Clearly Batman has finally, finally ended all the crime and injustice in Gotham and can just roll out with a new chick and enjoy life in Europe. Fuck a Gotham.

I just don't get it. Even if you're not a huge Batman or comic book fan, instead choosing to be a movie fan, the movie was crap! Did anyone notice that the police decided to just run full tilt at a large group of men with semi-automatics? Or the one cop with the reflective vest who punches air? The cops in the front line didn't even have guns or big ones at that. And they weren't even shooting!! Foley had a tiny ass gun like he was expected to do something all grand after getting dressed up. Real artistic way he died though. Props for that nice twist of the hips.

Another thing, did anyone else immediately get that Miranda Tate was Talia al Ghul? Way to make it super obvious. I was really hoping to be surprised but once Bruce Wayne stoked that scar on her back, we all knew; and it was downhill from there. And way to leave the man hanging Talia. But wait, if one was to follow the Batman history, Talia would never have gotten into a love triangle with Bane and Bruce/Batman and/or left Batman for Bane. But clearly this was a crucial part in the plotline. Bane got the girl, sort of, and Batman failed at macking a chick- who he somehow failed to investigate enough. Seriously, homegirl becomes CEO of Wayne Industry's and Wayne himself doesn't even know until the end that she was someone else?! I blame it on the seven year hiatus he took. His brain was all cobwebby. Seriously, he failed to even figure out that a huge ass construction project was going on underneath his own company. Luckily he still had his mansion right?

Gadgets. No gadgets. Batman is famous for his gadgets. He has no superpowers like Spiderman or Superman (ugh- did anyone see the trailer for this? I'll be catching that on redbox.), so he cleverly relies on gadgets. Other than his new plane vehicle thingy and the usual motorcycle, which had some serious enhancements with turning capability, there really wasn't anything too impressive. Okay, there was the light show during the Bane motorcycle chase which was pretty impressive, but his fights with Bane failed to bring out one of his best sides- his ingenuity. He threw some sparklers at Bane and expected everyone to be impressed. But maybe it was Nolan trying to show that human side of Batman? The one who ultimately fails. But seriously, Batman doesn't rely just on his fighting strength. Gadgets. Gadgets!

I found Hathaway's Selena Kyle entertaining. She was sort of refreshing at moments in such a gloomy movie. She took what she wanted and usually always got the best of her targets. Heck, she even got Bruce Wayne at the end. Which begs the question, why would such a woman- who's character evolves around fulfilling her self-serving desires- end up with a broke man. Let's not forget folks, Bruce Wayne was broke before he died and seems pretty useless to her alive.

But maybe I'm reaching with all this. I found Tom Hardy's Bane voice as annoying as Christian Bale's Batman, so maybe the incurring headache made me too picky. However, Batman has always, no matter the episode, comic, or movie, been something for me to analyze. Batman is a an analysis of the human psyche, of that dark part in all of us. It is a dark look at reality and the examination of man vs. man, bad vs. good, bad vs. bad, and all the other complexities of life.

I just felt that Nolan wanted to quickly tie up this trilogy and left too many questions unanswered and made too many idealistic plot devices that just don't fit Gotham. 3000 cops and not one is corrupt? Bruce Wayne is straight broke yet somehow flies back to Gotham from the middle of the dessert in a foreign country? All those thousands of "criminals" (which is apparently debatable according to that angsty scene with Gordon and Blake) just running amok and Batman just rolls out? They keep saying that only one person made it out of that prison (Talia) yet Bane (and even R'as al Ghul) was there too, so...

But I suppose I'm over thinking it. My brother and I just couldn't get over many of these parts and as the reviews roll in, I continue to wonder if I'm alone in my assessment of the movie. I found it lacking and the worst out of the three. Of course it would be damn near impossible to live up to The Dark Knight (seriously, what is it with Batman playing almost second string to his nemesis), but they didn't even make it close with this. Of course it wasn't all bad- thankfully not another Spiderman 3, but I just don't get the hype. This was the end and there was so much that could have been done. Or maybe the issue was that too much was done in certain respects that left out chunks of important parts. But if you enjoyed it, that works too. But please, internet people, don't put this in the top 5 (or even 10) of any superhero movie- I beg you.

Ignorance, Not Bliss

noreply@blogger.com (Le Chele ) — Tue, 03 Jul 2012 00:05:00 +0000

Around the fall of 2011, I started to crash. The pain was gradual, yet intense and caused my depression to spiral out of control. I had mastered the art of putting on a happy facade but could no longer disguise my inner feelings. I had reached a breaking point and could no longer manage the struggles brought upon by my life.

I had just started a sucky, low paying job and was not in the best of touch with many of my close friends. I believed I was a failure and that it was reason why people abandoned me. Combined with my academic shortcomings and my father's chronic illnesses, nothing seemed to be going well for me. I gave up on trying to make the best of things and seriously considered giving up on everything.

Things have improved considerably since then. For the first time in my life I have a positive outlook on my future while also having an understanding of the challenges caused by my depression. It is sad that it took a mental breakdown and a hospitalization for me to properly tend to my illness but I am thankful for that particular catharsis. Perhaps I needed such a traumatic event for me to not only seek the help I need, but also for loved ones, most notably my parents, to recognize how unhealthy I was.

The day I was admitted was also the day I began my quest for healing, which meant a lot of studying and a lot of learning. If I had to pinpoint the start of my depression, I would say that it started during my first year in high school, but I did not know it at that time. The teasing and bullying caused me to cry myself to sleep some nights and I went from excelling in gifted programs to having be placed on punishment for abysmal grades. Yet despite the now obvious signs and symptoms, I had not a clue of what was wrong with me. Depression was not even a part of my vocabulary so how could I possibly treat something not yet diagnosed?

Things got better but dark feelings began to resurface after my first year of college. I was put on academic leave and things went downhill from there. Absorbed in my self-deprecation, I was paralyzed, unable to move forward. And when I did show signs of improvement, the death and illness of many family members buried me back into the quicksand.

I am a long way from where I was then but not close to where I need to be. To this day, there are still aspects of my depression that I struggle with. It is why I am in therapy. It is why I write about my experiences and am constantly in search of community. My struggles- past and present- are unique and difficult, but with self-awareness, always, always manageable.

This post is cross listed at LeChele's new blog on black people and mental health issues, Black With The Blues.

Beat the Heat

noreply@blogger.com (Fiore Scott) — Thu, 21 Jun 2012 19:48:00 +0000

You know that moment when it's so hot, you decide to take a lukewarm/cold shower? You turn on the water to the perfect cooling temperature and then when you hop into the shower it's scalding hot? You glare at the shower head and bitch about the stupid ass heat.

First world problems.

Folks, I don't know what area you're in, but in my city the temperature is currently at 90 and steady climbing. The heat index is supposed to be 107 today. No beuno.

I'm a summer baby and oppressive heat like this makes me mad. I'm guzzling down water like no tomorrow and angry when my thighs stick together because of the heat.

The fat girl struggle.

But, at the end of the day, when the sun goes down and the mosquitoes are buzzing around my ankles, I'm happy that I made it through another day. It could be worse folks. I'm in air-conditioning probably 80% of the day, I have access to ice water, and hopefully you are/do too.

Here's some tips to beat and deal with the heat. Feel free to add some of your own. It's a struggle out here as it gets hotter.

1. Water water water water. It is so easy to get dehydrated in the heat. We have to drink enough water, especially if we like to enjoy a good margarita after work. Carry around a nalgene, freeze a water bottle, or buy some water while you're out- but make sure you drink enough! We don't need y'all falling out.

2. Check on the old folks. Ladies, gents, and everyone else- we can't forget about our elders, especially in this heat. I'm sure we've all seen the news stories of older individuals dying in their homes because of the heat. Don't think just because they have an air conditioner in their window that they're using it or that they're doing okay.

3. Ice-cream. Water-ice or whatever icy treat you enjoy. Make sure you take sometime out to enjoy the nice things about summer. Getting soft-serve vanilla ice cream in chocolate dip is a treat for me. But remember not to over-indulge. Gaining weight in the summer is no fun. And folks, no matter how drunk or high you may be, just because you like ice cream, don't go and do a Gucci Mane. Ever.

4. Dress the part. Folks, just because it's hot outside doesn't mean everyone needs to see your ass, titties, belly or back fat, or anything else that needs to have a bit of fabric covering it up. Ladies, you know y'all are wrong for those outfits sometimes. In the words of Phonte: "Got the fat hangin over the sides (Better go to lane bryant). Girl, you got your gut bustin over the side of your jeans. It look like a muffin". And fellas, seriously just pull up your pants.

5. Showers, deodorant, and sunscreen. Showers folks. Whether it's cold or hot, we gotta remember to get the funk off our backs after a long hot day/night. Stale sweat is not sexy and no one wants to sit next to a funky person, especially in the heat. So please, please, please ~~James Brown.~~ wear some deodorant. And every skin type and color can get sun cancer and a sunburn, wear some good sunscreen. Your body will thank you.

Now that's just a few on my list for keeping cool and fresh in the heat. Please feel free to add yours! And remember folks, stick to the shade when you can.

The Fiore Scott Files: Sometimes I'm a Mess

noreply@blogger.com (Fiore Scott) — Wed, 20 Jun 2012 04:46:00 +0000

When life hands me lemons, I like to make vodka lemon.

When someone hands me a drink, there's a good chance I'm going to drink it. (Unless it's from a stranger. Come on now folks- that would just be stupid.)

That half empty or half full glass is just perfect for adding some whiskey.

And I'm usually the person finding events with a free open bar or drink tickets.

Okay, I think you get it. I enjoy a drink or three here and there.

That being said, sometimes I do stupid things with liquor. Sometimes I'm a mess. It happens to the best and worst of us. It's a part of adulthood. As long as I don't get arrested, shot, kill someone, get pregnant, or an std- I think I can get a pass here and there. I've watched my friends be messy and they've seen me be ridiculous or heard my messy tales. I'm glad these tales have gotten to be fewer and far between, but some days I just let loose a little too much.

Monday night was one such night. Now I haven't done anything particularly messy since my birthday last July. I've been a good girl and have kept my drinking to a minimum and haven't gone hard like I did Monday night in a long while. Oh how I sometimes yearn for the heydays of college when I could consume copious amounts of liquor, wake up drunk the next morning, and head to class with the intention of drinking again that night. No more of those days for me. I could say that I'm getting old, but my friend would beat me, so I'll refrain.

Now this particular Monday night I found myself at a VIP event at a fancy ass steakhouse that I wouldn't dream of eating at with my current budgetary problems. But somehow, I've made myself likable, useful, and cool enough to get on the list for these VIP events and they always have free drinks and scrumptious finger foods overflowing. This particular night I was seeing and reconnecting with people I hadn't had the chance to hang with in months, was celebrating finishing my classes with As, and letting off some serious steam from work. Somehow I managed to have 3 cocktails, 2 glasses of wine, and a beer in a span of 3 hours. My motto of the night was: Fuck work tomorrow.

I had an awesome time and came home more drunk than I've been in a long time. However, that's when the fun stopped. Right before bed I felt the need to pray to the porcelain goddess. Of course, my body decided not to have a gag reflex when I tried to help myself along and I went to bed feeling like crap. I also woke up feeling like crap as well. I stumbled into the shower and than sat by the toilet for another 10 minutes hoping I could finally dispel this yucky feeling from my stomach. No such luck.

I managed to make it to the bus on time and get to the subway, but that's when everything went downhill. I thank God for McDonalds. I was able to make it to their bathroom in time to puke my brains out. I laughed to myself and thought: Hey at least this isn't pregnancy morning sickness. Lemons folks, lemons.

Anyway, I made it to work still feeling absolutely terrible. I spent the first 2 hours with my forehead on my wrist pad and being told on the phone that I sounded sick. I had brought bread and a soft pretzel with me to eat but I hadn't touched either. It was that bad. But around 10:45 I felt it. That need to get to the porcelain goddess and pay my respects and pay them now. I rushed along the back hallways to get to a working bathroom. I failed. I ended up puking clear liquid in one of the hallways. I thank God that it was a storage hallway where hardly anyone went, that I puked up all the water and liquor I had been drinking, and that I was wearing a black shirt. God took pity on me yesterday.

I'm never going to drink again. Says the girl who's going to a happy hour after work today.

I'm going to be real here. Yesterday was a messy ass moment for me. I puked in a hallway at work. MESS-SAY. Not a moment I'll forget anytime soon for sure. But it's also a moment I hope never to top.

I'm still feeling lousy at 12:34AM on Wednesday, so my body is still not happy with my decisions. I enjoyed my night a little too hard and I'm paying for it. On the bright side, I know for sure that I won't be drinking anywhere at that level anytime soon. Once in a long while is okay, but I know my limit and drinking 6 drinks in 3 hours is nowhere in the cards for me anytime soon. Messy living is bad for my health so I'll keep that to a strict minimum- once a year. Hey, what's a wedding reception without friends telling your family and friends about your most ridiculous nights.

Shopping While Black

noreply@blogger.com (Le Chele ) — Tue, 22 May 2012 04:00:00 +0000

Racism is so annoying.

Last Friday, I was in an Asian owed beauty store. It was huge and I had just got paid so I decided to look for some new hair products. No harm, right?

Well, while on the phone with my boyfriend, I told him that I noticed that as I moved from on aisle to another, this Hispanic employee followed me. I was reading the backs of labels so I thought maybe I looked suspicious but as I glanced around to the other non-black customers (which was all of them), they were all doing the same thing.

Slightly annoyed but worried that I was overreacting, I moved to another aisle and there he was. I was furious. And I called him out. I said to him, "Why are you following me?" He gave me 'What the frack are you talking about' look and ignored me. I repeated myself but he still didn't say anything.

I stormed out and noticed two white guys shaking their head. I couldn't read their expressions but I think they thought I was being inappropriate.

I told two friends a few minutes later what happened but they didn't seem to sympathize much. Maybe it's not that big of a deal, and I know it happens a lot to black people but a day later I'm still upset by it.

Racism is so annoying.

To 98.7 KISS FM: A Special Tribute to a Special Station

noreply@blogger.com (Le Chele ) — Tue, 15 May 2012 04:12:00 +0000

Over two weeks ago 98.7 KISS FM, one of my favorite stations here in NYC closed ranks and merged with longtime rival, 107.5 BLS. Both are your standard rhythm and blues stations but KISS played slightly more oldies. It was devastating for fans who have been tuning in for the past thirty years. The city lost it's only smooth jazz station a couple of years ago and now is losing a historic r&b station, one that featured shows from popular syndication talk show hosts Michael Baisden and Al Sharpton. It's where countless of musicians and community leaders were given opportunities to share their voices with listeners across the city. They must now want adults to listen to the radio anymore. Thanks Nicki.

From colorofchange.org:

In the 1960s and '70s, local Black radio stations served as the political and social "drumbeat" of Black communities. At WERD Atlanta, the nation's first Black-owned station, DJ "Jockey Jack" Gibson regularly slipped political news and commentary between record plays. With WERD's studio located directly above the offices of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference, Gibson was also known to lower his mic out the window to Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. whenever Dr. King wanted to make a statement on air.⁷

A large number of local Black stations were shut down after Congress deregulated the airwaves in 1996. This gave deep-pocketed corporations the green light to buy up thousands of stations in one fell swoop. To cut production costs, corporate owners slashed local programming in favor of nationally-syndicated content that could be broadcast across a large number of stations.⁸ The Community Low Power Radio Act was designed to bring local programming back to the airwaves by making broadcasting licenses available to nonprofit community groups and individuals.

The last time I blogged it was loosely about the death of black radio. If you are like me and are possibly interested in starting or working with a local FM station , join color of change's efforts in taking advantage of the recently passed, Local Community Radio Act. We need ensure that our voices are heard and our ideas are shared so our interests can be valued. This cannot happen if we do not have the platform community support radio affords us.

It's been awhile since I've posted here and I deeply apologize, but I thought I'd comeback with my favorite segment, Throwback Tuesdays. And this post, is dedicated to my beloved KISS that I will dearly miss. Within the comforts of my home, I like to pretend that I am a disc jokey. I rant a lot about social and political issues on facebook while blasting my favorite tunes and sharing with anyone who will listen. I may not become the next quiet storm disc jockey (my voice is too nasally) but is just a snippet of tunes I would feature on my show.

1. Stevie Wonder "As"

2. Amel Larrieux "Get Up"

3. Georgia Anne Muldrow "Run Away"

4. Roy Ayers "Searching"

5. Zapp and Roger "Computer Love"

6. The Roots "The Next Movement"

7. J. Cole "Breakdown"

8. Gil Noble "The Bottle"

9. George Clinton and the Parliament "Bop Gun"

10. Sun Ra "That's How I Feel"

I could go on and on but you get the idea.....Just for fun, would you listen?

"She thinks she's cute." "Shouldn't she?"

noreply@blogger.com (lemonswithsalt) — Fri, 11 May 2012 21:31:00 +0000

I am incredibly self-deprecating. Like, for real. To the point where friends feel the need to have interventions. Where doctors start introducing medications. Well, not really but it's rather bad. And I know I do it. Shit, I know when I'm about to do it. Still do it. And while half of it is because I'm incredibly self-critical and a quarter of it is because I really do dislike a lot of shit about myself, another quarter (I'm whole now, right?) realizes I fit in more that way. And I really, really, would like to be accepted.

I was sitting on the train one day and this tall, blonde woman walked in. She had on a white button up shirt tucked into a shimmering sequined skirt and some gorgeous pumps. In my head, I saw her and thought, "Get it!". And across from me, these two women who were once chatting freely, lowered their voices as the woman entered. They looked at her, looked at each other and started snickering loudly.

I know that snicker. It's the, "Is she serious?" snicker. The, "Who the hell does she think she is ~~coming onto this express train looking better than me~~ wearing that outfit" snicker? They stared at her blouse, her skirt, her shoes. And they snickered and made snide comments and I realized, with cringe-inducing clarity that I never wanted to be on the other end of those jeering laughs. My backbone isn't straight nor strong enough.

It used to be. I was made fun of because of what I wore in JHS and while it was a tad annoying when it was a guy you were interested in doing the ridiculing, most of the time, I didn't give the whiff of a shit. Hell, my hair always looked crazy. Don't care. Yes, I am wearing tie-dyed blue glitter pants in the 21st century. "Throw some glitter make it rain." I liked who I was, I chose what I liked and I let that steer my boat. And yes, I looked rather silly sometimes.

But that blonde woman looked awesome. They weren't ridiculing her because she was dressed so differently from the norm. It was because she looked like she stepped off the pages of Elle at 8:15am. There wasn't a hair out of place. She look outstanding, damn it. She was minding her own damn business, reading her own damn Kindle and looking good while she did it.

She looked confident while she did it.

And haters, yes, call it what it is, were hating. (Side note: We find hate to be a strong word but people litter the word love)

What is it about being confident, and looking good, that can bring out the ugly in some people? As much as I hate the song, "Pretty Girl Rock", Keri Hilson has a bit of a point. While some beautiful women can be evil, vengeful little critters, assuming the entire world hates them because of their beauty, some aren't. And the moment a girl walks into a room, before you ~~squinted really hard and it looked like she~~ saw her "roll her eyes at you" or "lift up her chin in a pompous manner", you made presumptions about her, negative ones, based upon her looks.

Be honest. You see a pretty girl and you assume she's arrogant. An ugly girl talking to your boy is easier to swallow than an attractive one. But hey, it works the other way. You're considered attractive and for no reason other than people's prejudices, you've been called "stuck-up" or told you "think you're all of that."

It's crazy how easy you can be discredited, how thoroughly your feelings can be disregarded when another person presumes you are a conceited woman. We don't even like the attractive, confident protagonists in a novel. We like the girl who is painfully shy and awkward and doesn't realize her own beauty. I remember Zipporah once telling me, "I feel like people want me to think I'm ugly."

And for some women, it would appear so. Thinking you are beautiful easily becomes thinking you're "the shit" and puts you at the receiving end of some vicious blows. People will either tell you how you aren't attractive or, in some cases, attack you. I know several pretty girls in my neighborhood who have gotten their faces sliced with a razor.

Maybe that's just harsh life in the hood.

Maybe on some level, it's happening everywhere.

One night, with this young man, I asked him if he thought I was pretty. We were both drinking and I was dying to know. His reply was, "Yeah. I think you're gorgeous". And I honestly don't know if he finds me beautiful or if that was the liquor and/or his hormones talking.

Sad, right? I want to feel beautiful. I want to accept it like a wafer during communion. I want to wash it down with the blood of Christ.

But that's my own self-esteem issue. I just don't feel like bothering to build up my self-esteem because I truly find I'm more accepted when I tear myself down. I'm more relatable when I'm not confident. No, I'm more accepted when I self-degrade. If you were to once just come out and say, "Damn, I'm looking fantastic today", people assume you're pompous and conclude you're not worth getting to know, you conceited heifa. And they're even quicker to provide examples contrary to your belief.

But it never crosses their mind that you can be an attractive girl who has had tons of crushes who chose your friends instead, who dated a guy who was the sand helping to erode your self-esteem, who have family members that comfortably pluck out your aesthetic flaws and are surprised that today, for once, just this fucking once, you put on a great outfit, lifted your head a little higher and could look and feel this good.

After so many years of not feeling good enough.

So I leave you with my favorite poem, the original "Pretty Girl Rock", by the amazing poet, se7en:

To Date Online? Or To Stay Yo Ass At Home?

noreply@blogger.com (Zipporah Pearce) — Tue, 03 Apr 2012 01:40:00 +0000

Hola folks,

I just got an account on a popular dating site and things are going just fine. Gettin' some views and some messages and some texts. But, every time the proposal to meet face to face pops up I get clammy.
What if I end up in his trunk?
What if an outing to the comic book store becomes let me chase you into my closet with my dagger?

What if. What if.

Have any of you dated online? Or, at least, browsed online?

The Thirst

noreply@blogger.com (Fiore Scott) — Mon, 02 Apr 2012 18:51:00 +0000

Ladies and Gents it has been a while. I've been dealing with family drama and stresses, finals, work, and all other types of things that have taken me away from this blog. I've missed y'all.

Now on to a topic that has been grating at my soul for the past month or so. Ladies and gents, I'm dealing with The Thirst. Now, I'm not the thirsty person. Unfortunately, I'm the one on the receiving end and it's not pleasant. Now for those of you who don't know what I'm talking about, let me make it plain.

The Thirst is a term applied to those that just can't take a hint. Would-be-suitors who just keep calling or texting and aren't deterred by a lack of response. The men and women who just won't take no or silence for an answer.

My current thirsty acquittance goes to the school I work at. That wouldn't be a problem since it's a huge college and I should be able to duck and dodge any attempts of his approach. It has worked so far, except when it comes to my phone. Since February when I told him in no uncertain terms that I did not have time or patience to date (date him specifically), he took this as a signal that he should still try and be my friend. I responded that he can do whatever he wanted but that I honestly didn't have time for him. I was (and still am) busy with work, grad school, my family, and trying to get my life situation together. He did not fit into the picture.

However since then the texts, call, and voicemails have continued unhindered and he just hasn't gotten that no response means no interest. I haven't responded to ANY of his messages and I don't plan on starting now. Yet the thirst continues. I'm tempted to send a fake reply text such as: Sorry the number you are trying to reach is no longer accepting text messages. Msg. 4186. But even then I feel like he'll use that as an excuse to call.

I don't really know what I should do, if anything, in this situation. I've gotten a few "I saw you today" texts which are a bit creepy but hopefully harmless. And maybe after a few more weeks he'll finally get the hint. For now I figure I'll just wait it out and see what happens. Hopefully I won't see him around on campus but maybe if I do I'll be able to let him know that his interest is not wanted. Hopefully this is just some harmless thirst.

Have you ever had a thirsty acquittance? What did you do to deal with The Thirst?

Not Sorry One Bit: I Hated the Hunger Games Film

noreply@blogger.com (lemonswithsalt) — Sun, 25 Mar 2012 05:21:00 +0000

***SPOILER ALERT***

I have no idea how to begin conveying my disappointment in the movie. How disappointed I am to have bought two IMAX movie tickets on Fandango last week for 9pm last night and it be an ultimate, mind blowing, 4 finger slap in the face while the thumb stabbed me in the eye.

Perhaps, I'm being melodramatic. I'd give the movie a B-/C+. It was okay. That's it. It wasn't great. It wasn't awe-inducing. It didn't leave me gearing up for the sequel. In fact, I was desperate to leave when I turned to look at my brother (11) who was so excited all week but was now sleeping 3/4s of the way through. As we walked out, we left knowing we would not look forward to the film for "Catching Fire".

When people are self-described book fanatics, watching the film version can leave much to be desired. Honestly, you don't watch, you compare. You compare the scenery, appearances, dialogue, cut scenes, added parts. It's almost impossible to fairly judge the movie because any diversion from the book leaves the reader unsatisfied. If it's not exactly like the book, it's a bad movie.

And that's not fair. There is no way to turn what took you a few days (or one long night) to read into a two hour movie. Things need to be cut. If the character is narrating in the book but not in the film, you have to add parts to still convey the character's thoughts and feelings. If a book was written using the latest technologies of their time (Sconex anyone?), then we need to upgrade to the technologies of our time (Facebook). And unless a character's appearance is vital to the story, then I don't give a damn who you cast.

My only request when devising a script from what was an incredible novel, is that you stay true to the story. And that's why the Hunger Games gets that B-/C+. They did. And they did okay. I'm sure others will find it enjoyable.

But they didn't go there. They did not go there.

I love horror movies. I love films that leave my heart pounding, skin crawling, jumping at sounds and scared to sleep. The ones that have me rooting for the characters, urging them to stay silent when the killer is near, to be strong. I love blood, gore, struggle and hopefully, triumph. So I'm not afraid of a movie that goes there. I welcome them to force me out of my comfort zone.

And that's what the Hunger Games book did. From the very beginning, I was awe-struck at the sheer, fuckedup-ness of it all. Reading how hungry the people in District 12 were. When Katniss was famished and jumped at a piece of burnt bread. Illegally hunting to feed her family as the government did not nothing to ensure they were adequately fed. How extra entries into the Hunger Games lottery (a televised battle to the death of none but one) meant more grain and oil for you and your family. While everyone between the age of 12-18 were added to the lottery, the people who went the hungriest, the poorest, were always increasing their odds to die. Her remembering a couple trying to run away and the boy being killed instantly while the girl became a worker for the Capitol having had her tongue cut out.

Many times, I found myself putting the book down and just being appreciative that I didn't have to go days without food or a lifetime without real hope.

The games were even worse. In horror movie history, I have never been confronted with the brutal death of a child. I think of the dramatic legal thriller, "A Time to Kill", and even then, the young girl who is raped by two men isn't graphically shown. But in this book, the detail forced me to see it all. No one was safe. Katniss suffered from severe dehydration. Her dark urine. The burn wound after the Gamemakers drove her back to her fellow competitors, Tributes, with artificially created fire. When she drops the trackerjackers on a group of Tributes and their bites swell to the size of grapefruits. The explosion she sets off that leaves her deaf in one ear. The knife wound she gets on her head that leaves her in a pool of blood.

Peeta suffering from blood poisoning. The sound of Cato being viciously attacked all night by a pack of horrific genetically altered wolves and Katniss's arrow that puts him out of his misery. The bloody bite Peeta received that would render him an amputee.

In terms of storyline, the filmmakers got it right. The character's feelings, the society's dynamic. They even showed what happened from the angle of the Gamemakers which was a great way to juxtapose the lives of those in the district to those in the Capitol. I remember sitting there and my blood boiling at the site of kids from the Capitol reenacting the Hunger Games as if it was - and for them it was - just entertainment. They would never have to enter a reaping. They'd never have to fight to the death or die from starvation or cold.

But they watered down the terror like a cup of ice. The vicious fighting between the tributes wasn't shown clearly. Katniss wasn't close to death from dehydration. The insect wounds weren't horrendous. She never lost her hearing. The knife wound on her head was minor. Cato was only attacked for a short moment. The wolves didn't have the eyes of the fallen Tributes. Peeta kept his leg. In fact, they didn't even put the lethal berries in their mouth.

While this all may seem like detail, it sums up to the movie being made for TV. It was lighter and easier to watch. It's like the movie was made for parents. Nothing to give their children nightmares. Nothing too scary. Frightening, but not too frightening.

It bothered me because for some people, that is real. For some, that is their life. They really do live under a tyrannical rule. They really do go hungry for days. Children are forced to kill other children. They are faced with brutal punishments. They do die.

You were supposed to be shaken. You were supposed to be moved towards change. I read the books and thought of the hungry and the war torn. I was enraged. I was unhappy. I wanted things to change. I wanted to spend a week gathering my own food and starting my own fires. I wanted to put the book down and make it go away. I wanted to pick it back up and urge them to revolt.

And my brother did too. But the film didn't do that. It was made with the preteen viewers in mind and it was rated PG-13. Every article was about whether parents should let their teens see it. And they should be happy. The gut-wrenching trauma of the book was effectively turned down in the movie. Unfortunately, it was turned down so much that it became mere background noise, rendering the truths about humanity offered in the book as something easy to tune out. It should have been kept true to form, rated R, and the parents forced to accompany their children. Forced to open up that dialogue.

But it wasn't. So after watching the Hunger Games, I was able to go home that night and watch TV like nothing ever happened.

Will the Robert Glasper Experiment Work?

noreply@blogger.com (Le Chele ) — Wed, 14 Mar 2012 23:02:00 +0000

Whenever given the opportunity, I snidely inform you all of how much I detest much of the new music out now. It is why I created Throwback Tuesdays! It why I love TV One's UnSung. On Saturday mornings, I make an effort to get up before noon and tune to the classic soul that will be heard on Felix Hernandez's Rhythm Review because I prefer it to the junk that is out right now.

So when I do come across an artist with a style as fresh as Robert Glasper's, I breathe a sigh of relief. His new LP, appropriately entitled Black Radio, has been rippling through online sound waves since its debut two weeks ago. With successful performances on Letterman's Late Show and New York City's Highline Ballroom, and the number 5 album on iTunes, the Robert Glasper Experiment sent a strong message to the music community. It demonstrated how eager people were for creative, soulful, feel good black music. The former jazz pianist collaborates with a collection of underrated jazz, r&b and hip hop artists including Chrisette Michelle, Ledisi, Lalah Hathaway and Yasiin Bey (the artist formerly known as Mos Def). Here is Bilal and Lupe Fiasco performing the track, "Always Shine":

My two favorite songs on the album is Ledisi's "Gonna Be Alright" and Erykah Badu's cover of "Afro Blue." Robert Glasper composes songs that weave together complex rhythms and melodies, showcasing each of the musicians' unique talents. While celebrating the diversity of incredible black music, we must ask ourselves why none of the music from our radios sound like anything from this album.

One of the few conceptual albums to come out in a long time, Robert Glasper certainly sends a strong message with Black Radio. Black musicians from earlier generations articulated black thought and emotion in their music. This is what black music needs to return to. We aren't singing/ rapping about how we feel or about what we think. It's solely what we do. Absent is the soul that used to define black music. For the experiment to work, we need to not have people just enjoy Robert Glasper, we need them to follow his lead.

I Can't See It Coming Down My Eyes So I Gotta Make This Post Cry - Jay Z voice

noreply@blogger.com (lemonswithsalt) — Fri, 02 Mar 2012 03:49:00 +0000

My mother had only one tattoo: a flower with me and my brother's names below it located on her right calf. I remember the day she got it, she complained of the pain. But hey, she loved us. She also loved the singer Mariah Carey and Mariah Carey loves butteflies. My mom would always point out some way in which Mariah incorporated butterflies, either as the diamond butterfly ring or the amazing song on her album. So I thought it was only fitting that my first tattoo would be on my mother's birthday - in the same spot as my mother's tattoo- of a butterfly with "Mommy" underneath.

My mom's birthday was February 27. She would have been 46. Everyone in our family handles her birthday differently. My 11 year old brother would not remember her as he only knows our grandmother as 'mom'. My aunt would be overcome with grief and then guilt as she would remember the pact that they made, a pact she failed to keep: "if anything happens to either of us, we take care of the others children". My grandmother would stay busy so that she doesn't have to recall that she outlived her own child. My uncle would go out and drink and cry.

And I'd ask a new question. This year, I wondered what her hair would look like. Would she have grays peaking out causing her to have a 'where did my youth go' moment? Would she have dyed it her natural rusty brown? Would she have joined me on my natural hair journey and cut it all off? Would she have been nervous to chop it? Would I be snapping photos of her in a salon, would she have cut it herself or would she trust me with her hair even after the hair rollers and spritz incident?

It's been 8 years without having someone to call mom and the whole 'time heals all wounds' shit is a lie. I listen to my friends go on about their parents feeling slightly bitter that they have some. I see little girls on the train with their mothers wondering why it was decided that I could no longer have that. To be honest, it doesn't hurt as it used to. It doesn't strangle my heart and leave me gasping for air as it did in the beginning. In that case, I suppose it has healed. But there are these moments when the longing overtakes me. It's the broken bone that has mended but is so easy to re-injure.

We weren't really speaking before she died. My mother was this brilliant, beautiful, witty woman, innovative and open-minded, and she was unhappy. Her boyfriend (my brother's father) of ten years was a selfish, cheating user and she struggled to be accepted by him and a good mother to me. And as it's no picnic being a single, struggling mom in a fucked up relationship, she needed relief. So she drank. She drank and at the time, I loved it because she became mellow. We'd play Scrabble, cards, dominoes and I'd get to stay up a little later on school nights to read for fun. But she also liked having me watching my younger brother (13 year age difference) while she went to the bar.

In my neighborhood, a 15 year old with a 2 year old child wasn't strange and I'd get comments from guys I had never seen before, as I passed with a stroller to pick up my brother from daycare, that the child wasn't theirs. Well of course it isn't. When your '21 years older than you' mom drops out of high school and gets a GED, even if she was able to land a job in the Financial District, she expected you to not have to travel along her footpath. She would stay up with you until your diorama earned you an A. She would punish you for not getting higher than an 80 on a Math test. And when she pawned her chain with Christ on the cross to buy you a graphing calculator, you'd vow to yourself to never, ever, not excel in Math. In fact, you'd vow to be perfect entirely.

She was right by the way. I got a 97 in AP Calculus but that was senior year of HS. She wasn't around for that. She didn't see me graduate high school either, making me the first in the family. And she wasn't around to see me graduate from college with a BS in Biology. She doesn't even know I stopped exploring the colors of the rainbow with my hair dyes after she died. Instead, I settled on purple, like a widower dons black, as it was a color with which she literally plumed her wardrobe and bedroom. She wasn't there as I got my first credit card in the mail, when I went to the hospital after a breakdown nor to help me heal after my first broken heart.

But we weren't speaking when she died. It was Friday night, it was warm, I wanted to ride my bike and she wanted to go to the bar around the corner. Which means I'd have to watch my brother and could no longer be outside. And you know what? I didn't feel like being perfect. I told her I wasn't going to watch her son so she could go drink. I was 15, I knew what happened soon after. She'd come home late in the morning and I'd hear her throwing up in the bathroom, a sound that kept me from alcohol until 2 years ago. She was livid. I was trying to explain to her that it wasn't my duty to watch her son; she was trying to make me understand that I was her child and I'd do as she said. It ended with her throwing a bike at me and us not engaging in real conversation for months.

Last year, I asked would we have been best friends again. I never answered it because to say yes would mean reliving loss all over again. But as so much has happened, just these past few years since I've returned to the rest of my family after college, I remember how great it felt to have someone in your corner. I learned that I tried so hard with my ex because I wanted to fit with him, so I could have the family I'd been deprived. The family he had been given.

She died the first week of 2004. Sometimes, I consider myself old because according to my mom's life, mine would end in 13 years. I know, that's crazy, but it was a Friday morning, we were finally warming up to each other and she gave me the last bit of money in her purse for lunch. We lived paycheck to paycheck, that day was payday and she only had 90 cents. I told her not worry, I'd scrape up a dime and buy my trusty Mountain Dew. That afternoon I was listening to my grandmother frantically telling me in the waiting room "ella se cao". My mother always fell. She could trip laying down. But she didn't trip this time. She just fell out in the street. And they failed to tell me that she never got back up. So I don't buy into the, I'll die when I'm 'old' adage.

And I don't let my guard down very often. When I wanted to be perfect, I had to build walls so that imperfection couldn't seep out or creep in. Now, I don't let my guard down because I truly don't know how much more I can take. Because I know that no matter how many times you say you'll be together forever, you cannot guarantee it. I don't know how much more loss and disappointment I can withstand. Whitney Houston belted out that she didn't know her own strength. Neither do I but I have no interest in learning it. I may not have "been built to break" but the Titanic wasn't suppose to sink and we know how that ended.

I'm the 'perfect' one in my family. I am the high school graduate, the college graduate, the smart one, the 'good' one, the budgeter, the homework helper, computer repairman, IT associate. I am the artist, the scientist, resume builder, business partner, interest free bank loaner, issue resolver. If I don't know the answer to their questions, I usually know how to find the answers. And they've decided that I know everything, that I really am the perfect person I always wanted to be. And I am not. I'm so, so fucking far from perfect.

In those moments, I desperately wish I had my mother. I'd finally be able to empathize with her. I could finally tell her I understand. That taking responsibility of your whole family is spine crushing, the pedestal they placed us upon is too high. That I get why it was so hard to leave her boyfriend. That you placed how you felt about you ("it's called self-esteem" *Katt Williams*) in their hands and it's easier to try to reclaim it from them than to reestablish it within you. That bills can be a blow. That an hourly wage is a fucking lie when you don't deduct taxes. That when things I need go on sale, I have an economic orgasm. That people can grow older without maturing. That liquor really does quiet all those negative thoughts. And that liquor isn't the only way...

One Christmas, my mom bought my grandmother a gold ring with a row of white amethyst stones. Amethyst is my mother's birthstone, not my grandmother's, but she bought it for her mom nonetheless. When I went off to college, my grandmother put the ring on my finger. "Now you have both of us," she told me. A stone has since fallen out of the ring but I refuse to take it off to get it replaced. It's not easy to risk losing another piece of me.

I don't know what I'll ask next year. I know I'll take to her grave her favorite gum, Big Red, and her favorite soft drink, Dr. Pepper. Maybe I'll be a medical school matriculant by then and can begin a career of ensuring other girls get to keep their mothers for just a little longer. But I don't know what to ask. I do, however, know what to tell her: I still shouldn't have to watch your son but I'm glad you blessed me with him. He has your laugh, your wit and your drive, even if he never knew you.

And this:

You did a good job Mom. You were not perfect, but you didn't have to be. Your kids aren't perfect either but there was nothing to fear, we turned out quite all right.

Happy 46th.

Understanding Eating Disorders: Moving Beyond the Basic

noreply@blogger.com (Zipporah Pearce) — Thu, 01 Mar 2012 04:05:00 +0000

Hola!!

It's been a minute, you know the deal.

I read this great article at www.alternet.org about eating disorders (it's nat'l eating disorder month) and how we should address them. The author, Autumn Whitefield-Madrano, explains that by viewing negative body image as a factor instead of a symptom of EDs we ignore the fact that an ED is, in fact, a mental illness. If we accept that poor body image is a driving force for developing an ED then we assume that if we diversify dominant cultural images of bodies then we end EDs. Eh, not so simple....

If we realize that EDs are a mental illness and not because you played with Barbie for a little too long then we have to look at a broader range of causes i.e. DEPRESSION, stress and your cultural as well as home environments. These are the three main factors that contribute to developing an eating disorders. Don't get me wrong, negative body image is most definitely in the picture-- but it has received too much of the focus.

For all us Colored Folk:

Some of you might be thinking, "phst. that's a white girl thing...'
Phst. No it's not. I know plenty of women of color who have eating disorders like bulimia and anorexia nervosa. And that deserves more acknowledgment! I also know plenty of women who OVEREAT in an attempt to self-medicate their depression and quell their loneliness and isolation. I would count binge eating and overeating as eating disorders...

What do all of you think? Do you think that women of color suffer from 'eating problems' as much as our white sisters?

Chime in Folks!

Theater Review: Katori Hall’s Hurt Village

noreply@blogger.com (Le Chele ) — Wed, 29 Feb 2012 05:39:00 +0000

Often discussed in a sociological context, poverty is a distant phenomenon for many of us. It is what we critique in our college classes, lament among friends, and romanticize in rap lyrics. But at times, too many of us choose to dismiss it.

In her current off-Broadway play, Hurt Village, accomplished playwright Katori Hall compels our attention with characters whose struggles are profound, yet common. Through their stories, the alienating nature of poor people’s lives is eliminated, at least temporarily. With dynamic performances from the actors, we cannot help but feel for people who live with unimaginable pain, even if we do not particularly identify with their issues. The combination of great storytelling and acting makes for a good theater experience, even when our connection to the characters is made by empathizing with their misery, their hurt.

Set in Hall’s native Memphis, TN, the play explores the story of troubled family and friends, and their quest for survival revolves around real life housing projects aptly called Hurt Village. The protagonist, 13-year-old Cookie (Joaquina Kalukango), may be too young to create drama of her own. She is a curious student who is bussed to an all-white, presumably adequate school but cannot seem to escape the chaos of her home life: Crank, her abusive mother (Marsha Stephanie Blake), Buggy, an erratic father who has been out of her life until recently (Corey Hawkins), and a foul mouth, cantankerous grandmother called Big Mama (Tonya Pinkins). There are few characters to root for in this play, given their lack of drive and overall negativity. But I found myself wishing the best for Cookie, hoping she might avoid the allure of addiction, criminal activity, and the quicksand of despair that traps her family.

In an attempt to set Hurt Village apart from the typical story about poor black people, Hall includes criticisms of political issues, including welfare reform, affordable housing, and veterans’ struggles. Her criticisms are well taken but are not enough to make the play distinct in nature, especially with characters who are close to being caricatures. The story may not be a creative one, but it is poignant and comical, though sometimes outlandish. However, it’s not every day our emotions channel those of others who live in a world away from us.

A Lost Icon: Whitney Houston

noreply@blogger.com (Fiore Scott) — Sun, 12 Feb 2012 04:16:00 +0000

Ladies and Gents. I am still reeling from the news. When Le Chele texted me asking me if I had heard about Whitney...I just never imagined. I had just seen pictures yesterday of her leaving a party. She looked so full of life. Folks, you just never know the day or time.

Many youngins who don't know Whitney Houston and what she brought to not only black culture, but also music culture in general, may only remember the drug-addled part of her life. Unfortunately this is what has taken center stage in her characterization, even more so than her amazing vocal talent. And it's a damn shame.

I remember growing up just in love with "I Want to Dance with Somebody" and "I Will Always Love You". She had this ridiculous voice that I would try (and still do) to mimic and her music was the epitome of the best. Her rendition of the Star Spangled Banner has yet to be topped, her movie "The Bodyguard" remains one of the best showcasing of her vocal (and acting) talent- creating some of the most passionate and beautiful ballads ever, and barely anyone in the current music sphere has come close to her delivery and talent. She is one of the best. We are all sadden at such a surprising departure and I can only shake my head and send my prayers out to her family and hope that she has found peace.

"Star Spangled Banner"

"I Have Nothing"

"I Love the Lord"

"I'm Every Woman"

For Real Though?

noreply@blogger.com (Zipporah Pearce) — Fri, 03 Feb 2012 02:35:00 +0000

For those of you who don't know me... I'm a public health goon. I love the theory; I love the practice.

With that said, I have a particular interest in public health campaigns. How they are created, how they are funded, and who gets to design them are questions that are constantly swirling in my mind. And sometimes, the swirl comes to a boil when I feast my eyes on bullshit like this:

Like, yo....what the fuck? For real? If we are going to try to tackle obesity then we need to do it in a way that does not marginalize, demonize and dehumanize fatty bodies. (For the record, no hate when I fatty...I love a booty with a little jiggle).

Why is it that we constantly, incessantly want to believe that fat = bad. How many fucking times have you heard someone (boy, girl or trans) say 'I'm so fat.' I fucking can't stand it. Not only does it make you uncomfortable because now you've suddenly been propelled to defend someone's self-confidence but... you can't help but think, shit...'am I fat, too?'
EVEN if you don't think that being fat is bad, it's portrayed in such a negative light that you internalize these body-shaming mantras. So when you see an ad like this, that implies fat = bad and wrong and ugly, you start to see yourself differently. You start to distance yourself from other human beings. You might think, 'pfft, thank God I dont like that...' Or 'I can't stand myself... I look like that.'

There is nothing inherently wrong with a fat body in the same way that there's nothing naturally beautiful about a thin one.

I wish that public health folk would try a little harder. These campaigns are simply not effective.

What do you all think of these ads?

What is Your Weakness?

noreply@blogger.com (Fiore Scott) — Thu, 26 Jan 2012 15:52:00 +0000

As I cam into work today I had prepared myself for a long day of work and an even longer day of homework. I was optimistic that I could get what I had planned done and that everything would go well. What I hadn't planned for was to be assaulted by the smell of my weakness. One of the few things that has, in my adulthood, been both a treat and a curse. Twizzlers.

This candy has been an end to many diets. It has also been a comfort when I was particularly stressed. Either way it has been a weakness for me. I love this candy. It is undoubtedly my favorite candy other than Twix and Take 5. And even though I gave up candy for New Years, I have relapsed. Today I gave in. I got to my office and smelled the candy. My coworker who was eating the Twizzlers and had offered me some, ~~I'm cursing her as we speak.~~ JK., informed me that another coworker was selling the candy. I reflected on my resolution not to eat candy for all of 5 minutes. I weighed the pros and the cons. I could continue to work on my resolution to my personal satisfaction. But in the end I decided that I deserved this treat. Especially because I am planning on doing an all-nighter just to get some assignments in early. That and I know myself. Though I may finish the bag today (it's a small one, so sue me), I won't automatically go back to splurging on candy like I did last year. And because I shop for the household groceries, I have made it a rule not to go down the candy aisle, especially if candy my family likes is on sale. So far so good.

Meh. So I've given up on one resolution. I still have 7 more that I have been working diligently on. One bag or bar of candy everyone once in a long while won't hurt me. As long as I don't make it a habit. I just need to remember that Twizzlers (and my other favorites) are my weakness and that if I don't control myself I'll relapse something bad. It's all about will power and I hope I'll have enough to get through this year.

So ladies and gents. What is your weakness? And how do you handle it?

Check Your Receipts!

noreply@blogger.com (Fiore Scott) — Wed, 25 Jan 2012 19:52:00 +0000

Happy Hump Day Folks. For some this is a day to rejoice. The work week is almost over and it is so much closer to the weekend. For others, like me, this day spells doom. I'm looking at you ridiculous mountain of homework.

Anyway, as I was getting ready this morning I was thinking ahead about the groceries I need to buy next week and that made me think of my most recent grocery purchase. Just last weekend I had gone to my area Shoprite and purchased about $130 worth of food. (We have a big family and sometimes you just have to stock up.) And one thing that I learned from my mother and father is to always check the receipt. Sure you may check the prices as the item is being scanned but sometimes you miss something and double checking is always best, especially when it comes to money.

When I checked my receipt for my purchases, I found that 2 items I bought were wrongly priced and that I had been overcharged. Because I had double checked I was able to get the items for free, something that many supermarkets do for customers when the store is in the wrong. I got back $3 and my items for free. And that $3 can go far in this economy.

So folks, if you don't already, check your receipts. You may be surprised just how often stores make mistakes and you pay for it.

Why I saw Red Tails AND Pariah

noreply@blogger.com (Zipporah Pearce) — Wed, 25 Jan 2012 02:26:00 +0000

Hola Folks...sorry about the absence...nah mean?

Over the past few days I splurged and saw TWO movies (bc yes... in the city I live in going to see a movie in theaters is 'spencive) . And boy, was it worth it.

The first was Red Tails. I walked into the theater secretly expecting to be offended but I walked out of this film feeling relaxed and even mildly entertained. Sure, for some Red Tails was whack and did not really explore the extent of the racial tensions our heroes had to face. Yea, the movie could have done more in that department... but it's George Lucas... IF we really care so much we should make our own reenactment. Don't complain about the funding ... look at all the low-budget but effective, accurate and informational videos out there. Like this one, for example, that highlights the life of Ms. Oney Judge.

I went to see the film not to 'learn' and not to prove to white hollywood that black folks watch movies, I went because I wanted to be entertained.

Now, Pariah. If you have not yet seen this film... what are you waiting for? It was SOOO good. No really. SO good. Oh wow....
The film is a coming of age story about a black lesbian from a middle class family in Brooklyn. I saw this film to support this narrative. Pariah is a movie about a hero. Yes, a hero. For a young, black woman, with very little social support to come out to her family and friends as a lesbian is a heroic act. She is marginalized and routinely harassed by strangers and those who are closest to her but she does not cower. She stands firm to who she is in face of all these challenges.* We should always applaud that.

If you haven't heard of it... you can check out the preview here.

* I'm not saying that every gay person who is NOT out is not a hero. I realize that it is a complicated and multi-faceted issue. Nonethless, being out and gay is a difficult process and

Web Junk 3 (Slightly NSFW)

noreply@blogger.com (Fiore Scott) — Wed, 18 Jan 2012 16:53:00 +0000

Happy Hump Day My Good People!

It has been a hectic time of me balancing between being lazy, a total fatty, and doing homework. But I'm back with this week's web junk.

First is this hilarious tumblr I stumbled upon (see what I did there?) on the facebook. I can't remember who shared it so I can't give them their props. But Celebs that Copy Brandy entertained me highly, especially when they compared Brandy to the Queen of England. Mad props.

Next is a hilarious video that my lil cuz Jim showed me while he came up from his southern haunts to visit. This video was a bit weird at first but it grew on me immensely. I hope you enjoy the "White Boy Boogie" as much as I did. Skip to 4:28.

And last but certainly not least is my favorite video of the week. This little doozey had my jaw dropping and me ready to go get a yoga mat discount from groupon. Real Talk. I give my girl Eun all the props for showing me this jem. I mean gawddamn. And you'll understand why after watching it. BTW folks. It's slightly NSFW so be warned.

And there you have it. I hope work or school or your kids doesn't kill you and/or give you grey hairs. Happy Hump Day!

The Old, Old, Old, Oldies

noreply@blogger.com (Le Chele ) — Wed, 18 Jan 2012 07:36:00 +0000

Most cities with a lot of black people have at least two or three radio stations that play oldies. The classics. The good stuff. But why do oldies stations primarily play music from the 70's, 80's and 90's? Soul Train was great but soul music existed way before the decade that brought us black power. Here are a just a few examples of great music your grandparents may know something about.

Papa Chele played Ben E. King's greatest hits album for at least twelve years straight. For an album that includes Spanish Harlem, you could imagine why. Many of you are familiar with King's song, Stand By Me. A former lead singer for The Drifters, he scored his first hit in 1961 with Spanish Harlem.

She was taken from us too soon but Dinah Washington left behind plenty of music for us to treasure. She passed away at the age of 39 from an accidental overdose. Despite such tragedy, Dinah is remembered as one of the most successful female singers in the 1950's. Is You Is or Is You Ain't My Baby is a 1962 recording but it was first written by Louis Jordan in 1944.

Speaking of Louis Jordan, it is only appropriate that he be included in this list, and heard on our radio stations today. Tell me this isn't soul you hearing! Not just soulful, but The Father of Rhythm of Blues was often comical and political. I first heard Beans and Cornbread on the Malcolm X soundtrack but other songs of his including What's the Use of Gettin' Sober, That Chick's Too Young to Fry and Pettin' and Pokin'. Beans and Cornbread was recorded in 1949.

I really don't think this wonderful woman needs an introduction. Ms. Lena Horne, ladies and gentleman.

Do ever wish for TV One's hit television show Unsung to make an episode about a certain artist you love? With his incredible career and many gifts, it would be great for younger generations to learn about Johnny Mathis and the contributions he made to music. Chances Are was recorded in 1957 and a year later, Mathis compiled a selection of chart-topping single he made with Columbia Records and created a Greatest Hits album, the first ever in history.

It's important to may homage to all the soul musicians that gave music we have learned and loved. Let us not limit our appreciation to music simply because it is more familiar to our ears. Artists mentioned above and their contemporaries laid the foundation for all of the sounds we groove and bop our heads to. So call your local classic soul stations and make the disc jockeys dig deep for those old, old, oldies!

Teaching Reading is Fundamental

noreply@blogger.com (Le Chele ) — Sun, 15 Jan 2012 21:39:00 +0000

With pure luck, I was able to find another assistant teaching job in an after school program. The elementary school is located in a neighborhood adjacent to mine with very similar demographics. The area is almost entirely black, middle class with many Caribbean residents. The school itself is aesthetically appealing with artwork on almost every wall.

It is almost night and day when compared to the last school I worked in where the hallways were decorated with cafeteria trash, rather than student drawings. And instead of the disrespectful, volatile kids from before, the kids in my current school are disciplined and appropriately innocent.

I am impressed with the school so far. While the students' performance on last year's standardized tests were average, the parents and staff work hard to provide the kids with the resources needed to improve the overall quality of the school. This includes two after school programs, Saturday school and a variety of extracurricular activities.

Again, it is a fairly decent school. I'm happy. I did, however, notice something slightly bothersome. I teach first grade. Out of a class of twenty four, having two or three who cannot read is not too bad. (Especially when compared to the two or three who could read in another low performing school I taught in briefly.)

I'm not familiar enough with curricula in New York City's public schools, but I wonder if kids are being taught reading fully in kindergarten or if educators are instead waiting until the first grade. I hope this is not the case because learning how to read is difficult, especially for children with learning disabilities. It is likely that kindergarten teachers have to compensate for those who did not attend preschool and as a result, have a lot of catching up to do. But doesn't this give more reason for us to start earlier??

What are your thoughts?

My Focus for the New Year

noreply@blogger.com (Fiore Scott) — Mon, 02 Jan 2012 04:12:00 +0000

It's a new day my beautiful people. Happy New Year and be blessed!

This year has been surprisingly robust, sometimes challenging, but altogether a blessing for me. This blog has definitely helped me grow as a woman, intellectual, student, sister, daughter, and as a friend. I thank you so much for sticking around, taking the time out to read our thoughts, and just being involved with our growth as women.

As my friend Zipporah let it be known; the term "resolutions" is like setting your self up to fail. So I don't have any New Year's Resolutions. I have foci. And yes that is a word. Here are my Foci for the New Year. And of course, you all will be some of the first to know when I succeed and fail. It's a process and hopefully I'll be successful and able to maintain focus.

1. Have my own place. It's nice (and basically free- though I do help with bills) living at home, but I need some freedom. I'm a grown ass woman (I like to tell myself) and it's time for me to be able to fully do me. Because we all know that all of us hide some of ourselves from our parents.

2. Lose 40 lbs. So I totally fell off my Kanye West Workout Plan and have just had a glorious time eating and drinking whatever I could get my hands on. And this started before the holidays, so I have no excuses. I could blame the treadmill that broke a few months ago, but I was just too lazy to continue my exercise regime. But I'm definitely going to get back on the horse. It's past time.

3. No soda or juice (unless as a mixer) or candy. Following my previous vein of thought; when I started my workout plan I had cut out soda (though I usually only drink diet anyway), juice, and candy. And it was going splendidly. When I started that again....well let's just say it was an epic fail. So I need some discipline. And since I will continue to need a drink here and there, I'll only indulge in the sugary goodness when I need to booze.

4. Water, water, water [1]. I am the absolute worst when it comes to drinking water. I can go a full day without having a glass, easily. We have a purified water pitcher at home that has helped me with drinking more water. And I take a bottle to work with me every day. But I need to increase my intake but at least 3 glasses a day. Hopefully that will help with my headaches/migraines.

5. Pay off at least a third of my student loans. This one is definitely a must if I hope to count myself as being financially secure. I am accruing more loans from being in grad school, so I need to be a nice dent into the loans I already have. I've been doing really well so far and hopefully I can continue.

6. All A's in my classes. Dear Grad School. WTF are you so hard? I mean I finished my first quarter with a 3.85 GPA, so I'm not doing badly at all. But damn. Grad School is hard.

Well my loves, that's it. I think it's a pretty reasonable list of foci. I just need to discipline myself and plow through it.

[1] I know y'all remember that. Those were the good ol' days of tv.
Forgive the spacing everyone. It took me a good 2 hours to get to the final product and I am far from happy. Not sure if it is blogger, the computer, or chrome.

Do You Have Any New Year's Foci?? Any last year regrets?