Can you really return a child?

Melissa and Tony Wescott are afraid of their son. They're so afraid of the boy they adopted that they're trying to have Oklahoma law changed so that they can return him to the state's care.
"He tried to burn our home down. The note said, 'I'm sorry you had to die,'" Melissa Wescott told "Good Morning America."
She said she and her husband have found butcher knives under his mattress and lighters hidden in his bedroom.
The Wescotts' 11-year-old son has been locked up in a psychiatric hospital in Tulsa, Okla., for nearly a year. But now doctors say he's not a danger to himself or anyone else, and the boy is scheduled to be released from the hospital next month

This story absolutely breaks my heart. I cried both times I watched the clip above. I was actually planning on doing a post on adoption before I read about this, but my mind still hasn't worked itself out to the point where I can coherently express myself.

The reason this story affected me so much is because as an adoptee, I know what it feels like to be told that your getting sent back. From age 12 until I was a legal adult (18 years old) my adoptive mother constantly threatened to call CAS (the Canadian equivalent to CPS) and have me removed from her care.

But here's the thing, I never threatened to burn down the house, or threaten to kill her. Actually, the opposite is true. I was a normal kid who didn't always clean my room when I was supposed to. Somehow fights over me cleaning my room would lead to her kicking me out of the house, or threatening to call CAS. From age 12 on, I had to beg friends parents to let me stay over, or if that didn't work wander the streets until morning and see if I would be allowed back into the house.

One time things got really bad, and after fighting my amother told me to get into the car (I didn't dare disobey her). She was going to drop me off at CAS. On the way she got so angry that she threatened to crash the car into a concrete pole, because she felt it was better off if she were dead. I guess she felt that I had to die too. She swerved the car away from the pole at the last second...

The horrible part is I ended up bawling and begging her to take me back home. Now that I'm an adult, I realize that was probably one of the biggest mistakes I ever made. But I was 12! How is a 12 year old really supposed to know whats best for her? I had issues, but for the most part I was a good kid! Most of the issues I had as a kid were probably due to the stress caused by living in such a crazy environment. The worst I did was skip class, and smoke weed every now and again. While some of my friends ended up snorting coke, and eventually smoking crack, I never once tried any sort of hard drugs. I got through high school only because I was smart enough that I didn't really need to study and I was lucky enough to have incredibly understanding teachers that understood that I had issues at home and didn't make a huge issue about my attendance.

I'm spending Christmas with friends instead of "family". There's not much "family" anyway - my grandfather passed when my amother was 3, and my grandmother passed away a few years ago (she is the only person in my afamily that I considered actual family). My amother never married. She has a sister she doesn't talk to because she's "crazy", and my aunt and uncle live on the other side of the country. I'm not really close to any of my cousins, even though one lives not too far from me.

I'm not really family to them any more than they are family to me. A few years back, my grandmothers family put out a family tree book. Every family member had a little section in the book with a few paragraphs dedicated to them...that is everyone except for me. I was mentioned as my amothers "chosen" daughter.

After getting into an argument with my amother about an incredibly rude and hurtful comment she made which she refused to apologize for making (I shouldn't say that, she did but it was more to the tune of "I'm sorry if you were offended by what I did, but I don't think I was being offensive...") I asked her why she bother adopting me in the first place. She responded by telling me she was tired of me bullying her about adopting me, and that I needed to get over it...

She's probably right. I probably should just get over it, and I'm probably making a big deal out of nothing. But there's a part of me that thinks that's probably all bullshit.

I know the situation with this little boy is different. My birth mother never abused me, I was 17 days old when I was adopted. She didn't drink or smoke during her pregnacy, in fact for the 17 days that I was hers she even breastfed me. I know she must have loved me if she was willing to bond that way with her child knowing she may never see her again. She gave me up because she wanted me to have a better chance at life in the North.

Still, I think its even more troubling that these parents want to give this child back knowing all that he has been through. Does this child not still deserve to be loved? Will no one fight for him? Will nobody give him a chance? All he's probably known is trauma and horror, I can't imagine what being kicked out his new family will do to him.

I've cried enough for tonight, I'll write more later.

The Canadian Holocaust

I was just over at Alienated Conclusions and read that Kevin Annett has passed away. For those who don't know who Annett is, he was a former United Church minister who dedicated his life to exposing the truth about the genocide of the First Nations people in this country. He was truly a great Canadian hero.

Pointless talents/weird habits=Friday Find(s)!!!

I have a lot of pointless talents and weird habits. I'm that person who is a source of useless information and facts. I constantly get asked why I know things, and what is the point of knowing such things, etc.

One of my (not so) odd (anymore) habits involves Google. I Google everything, and have been for some time. I never thought there was anything out of the ordinary about this habit until a friend stated to me one day, that before I had prompted her, she never used Google. I guess at some point I got irritated by her asking me for info all the time and started referring her to Google. Even before Google, as a kid I spent countless hours researching random things on Encarta just for the fun of it.

Another one of my pointless talents is finding interesting info on the youtubes. I once had a friend tell me I could teach a course with all the interesting links I found on Youtube.

So because I'm one of the world's worst bloggers (my posts tend to be sporadic, and few and far between...although lately I've been more inspired I'll admit) I think I'll start posting my weekly youtube finds...I'll call it my Friday Finds!

So my first Friday finds center around environmental issues that affect everyday, middle class, minority world (aka 1st world, Developed nations, the North...people with a fair amount of privilege) citizens. Why did I choose to focus on environmental issues??? Because I fancy myself a bit of a treehugger, and feel that everyone should watch these videos at least once (if not many times) because they challenge what most of us take for granted...so enjoy!

The journey so far...

It seems like another lifetime ago when I felt the need to look like I did in that photo. I was weave-a-licious (and yes, those are blue contacts I'm sportin). I don't think I ever really questioned whether or not altering my appearance so significantly was the thing to do; I just did it. I knew deep down I wasn't being true to myself, but I didn't care. I made excuses to myself as to why I couldn't just be happy with my unaltered natural hair: it was too thick, too kinky, too nappy, it shrunk up when washed, it never could be pressed completely straight, it was just too difficult...the list of excuses I had as to why I felt my hair wasn't good enough could fill a book.

I never had an addiction to the creamy crack. My hair is far too fine to put up with chemicals (or heat for that matter) for very long. I did however love extensions and weaves! When I read that piece by Joy Bryant in which she proclaims that her weave made her feel more human, I remember thinking about how at one time I could completely relate to those sentiments.

But things changed.

Ever since I cut my hair, and have made a commitment to wearing it sans weave or extensions, I've been able to truly realize the beauty of my kinks and coils. I wouldn't trade them for anything! Not only that, but caring for my hair is actually a whole lot of fun.

I've begun to realize that wearing hair that once grew out of the head of someone else is a rather questionable practice. I had watched some clips from a documentary awhile back about a British pop stars search to the question: Whose hair is it anyway? The hair extensions the stars wear comes from the heads of women and girls who are probably getting paid nothing or very little for their sacrifice. The cheap stuff most normal people buy however...literally comes from the garbage.

That's just depressing.

I am not willing to wear trash on my head. There is something very lowly and pathetic about wearing garbage.

So my journey continues on, and I'm enjoying every step on the way...

Check out my new blog about natural haircare and all things green!

WTF!!! Black kids pick cotton while white kids watch

This is just too sad. This man owes those children an apology, whether he feels his actions were justified or not. He may have been attempting to be historically correct, but does that really justify singling out 10 and 11 year old children in order to do so? And really, what did he think he was accomplishing? These were children he was dealing with! I don't have children of my own, but even I know that there are some things children are just not able to grasp on a deeper level. Hell, there are some things even adults just can't grasp!

The fact is, the message he may have inadvertently sent to those kids was that Blacks are inferior to whites; enslaved Africans were brought to the Americas to serve whites, and some of those white kids were probably wondering why things aren't still that way. Some of them might have been thinking it would be cool to have one of their Black classmates as a servant, but not because these children are inherently racist, but because most children don't really understand what chattel slavery entails.

This incident reminds me of two incidents that happened to me in high school. The first took place during a rehearsal for a play we were going to do for Black history month. It was the first meeting, and the teacher in charge was assigning us roles. I was assigned the part of Harriet Tubman. By no accident, the role of the slaves was given to all the white students. The white students were instructed to crawl on the floor towards me, and look to me desperately as if I was their savior. I remember I found this to be incredibly funny because of the irony. Still though, it made me uncomfortable and in the subsequent weeks I decided to not participate in the assembly.

The teacher involved was known for being a tad racially prejudice. A friend of mine had her as a teacher for a class and was invited by her to join a dance project she was involved with. She told my friend to invite others to join, but made it clear that anyone not Black was unwelcome.

Needless to say, when the play was presented the part with the white slaves crawling on the floor to Harriett Tubman mysteriously wasn't included. What was included was a rather long speech about how wonderful Black people were, and how essentially useless everyone else was. I think it was great that she felt the need to highlight all the achievements Black people accomplished, but I don't think anyone else needed to be put down to do so! It was no surprise that the next year at the beginning of the assembly she had to make an apology for the assembly from the previous year.

The second incident I didn't find so funny. I had a law teacher who can only be described as a jackass. Indeed many students and teachers alike would have described him as such. One day in class, he decided to bring up Philippe Rushton as an example of how freedom of speech functioned. Now, I was already aware of who Philippe Rushton was, him being a professor at the University of Western Ontario (which is in the city I grew up in), and we had already covered him in another class. The difference between the way my law teacher covered the subject and the other teacher handled it though, was that he taught Rushton's theories as if they were fact.

I graduated in 2003, which was around the time the human genome project was completed. The biological hypothesis of race being a biological construct had pretty much been disqualified, which essentially made Ruston's research invalid. To be teaching Ruston's theories (which essentially state that Blacks have the lowest IQ's of all the races based on the fact that our skulls supposedly have the smallest circumferences, also that Blacks males have larger penises and have the lowest sexual restraint) as if they were true was a very bold move.

Even if he didn't know biological race was non existent, critics of Rushton had long ignored his findings because a) his sample sizes were too small to be representative of everyone b) it was unknown who he was sampling (was everyone he was asking well educated, slightly educated, not educated at all, illiterate? How much variance in education levels existed between racial groups, etc) and c) he was funded by openly racist organizations, so although he claimed to not be racist, it was no surprise that his findings would prove what his financiers wanted him to prove.

It was a bold move I didn't like, and countered with an even bolder move of walking out of his class. Later when he attempted to discuss the incident with me, I ended up losing my temper and screaming at him for a good 20 minutes. Bold, I admit for a 17 or 18 year old kid to be doing, but he just didn't understand why he was dead wrong for doing what he did. I guess he didn't notice that some of the white kids in class were nodding in agreement while he taught Ruston's theories.

Unfortunately the incident didn't end there. On the final exam for that class there was a question about how I was planning to kill him, and how somebody had overheard me telling someone else, and was I guilty of committing a crime by making such a statement. I didn't answer the question (which was a short answer question) but instead wrote a rather long essay about how inappropriate his behaviour was. I went into that exam with an 85%. My final grade was a 63%. The exam was only worth 15% of my final grade. It doesn't take a math major to realize something wasn't quite right with my final mark.

Well obviously, being the outspoken person I am I complained and my mark was fixed and the law teacher was instructed to apologize. He never did apologize. I still would smile at him in the hall though; it sure did make him nervous as hell when I did that. I later found out he made a habit of harassing his Black students. One girl I worked with had her mark tampered with too. Unfortunately he made it a lot lower than my 63%, but she never spoke up. When I told her about my experience, she was sorry she hadn't. I'm sure though after the incident with me he thought twice about harassing other Black students. We may have been inferior in his eyes, but some of us had the audacity to stand up for ourselves.

My biggest issue with this incident is the fact that unlike my situations that happened in high school, these were elementary school children. Most of these kids are too young to know that it would have been okay to refuse to participate in such an atrocious display. The tour guide needs a reality check IMO. This is the present. Although it may have been historically accurate and okay to degrade Black people in the past, today in the present its not. The fact that he is Black makes this situation all the more shameful. It just proves that some Black people still don't realize that we are not inferior to whites.

When I look in the mirror...

(I came across this video via Naturally Leslie. I wish I could say that I found the video shocking, but unfortunately I can't. Its no secret Black people, and many other POC struggle to accept themselves with the features that they were born with. Warning: the video is extremely graphic in nature. If you have a weak stomach or squirm at the sight of blood, you may want to close your eyes like I did at certain parts.)

I had a very interesting conversation with my roommate the other night. It would seem she is not entirely secure with her Japanese features. I've noticed other quirks about her, which I chalked up to differing cultural aesthetics: the whitening face scrub sitting in the shower being one of those said quirks (looking at it every time I shower makes me somehow very uncomfortable, despite the fact its none of my business). However, pale skin was not what we discussed, rather it was her "too small" eyes. She felt Asian eyes were not as attractive because they weren't big enough. She even went on to discuss how some people (other than herself) even sometimes have eyes which are monolid (stating this fact as if it were proof of the inferiority of the Asian eye).

To be honest, I had thought her eyes were monolid, but apparently they're not. Hell, my eyes are damn near close to being monolid, but I think my eyes are fantastic! Her statement reminded me of this dude I dated awhile back. I must have accidentally called him dark skinned, which he promptly corrected by informing me that he was actually brown skinned. He was pretty much the exact same colour as I am. I guess I can accept that my skin tone could be considered brown, but I'm sure as hell not going to be offended if someone refers to me as dark. Needless to say, the relationship went nowhere, probably because obvious displays of insecurity are a complete turn off (that and I found out he was lying to his friends about getting in my panties - something he was only ever able to dream about).

To be fair, I actually love my roommate, and think that she is a fairly down-to-earth and grounded individual, plus I definitely have my own insecurities. I have nose issues. I go through periods of time when I despise it. I obsess about it, if it looks to big or broad in a picture. I have even considered getting it done, but have come to the resolve that the idea of having a nose I wasn't born with is just obscene and incredibly arrogant, so plastic surgery could never be a thought I could seriously entertain for very long before coming to my senses. I'm also very critical of other peoples noses, which is stupid, and incredibly shallow and insecure on my part but sometimes I just can't help it.

It probably started when I was 13, at least I don't remember having issues with my nose before than. A group of older white boys felt compelled to harass me one day after school. I had recently shaved my head (I was a rebellious kid, what can I say) and I can only guess that my rejection of a stereotypical female appearance encouraged them to beat on me, and berate me with epithets, including pointing out how big my nose was.

As painful as this memory should be, surprisingly it isn't. In fact, I only remembered it having watched the video. All the people profiled had a history of being teased, or harassed in their (sometimes not so) distant past. It was obvious this was what contributed to their overly damaged self-esteem. So why did it seemingly destroy them, but not me, or for that matter my roommate?

Its sad, because at one point during the film, Jet (she actually goes by the full name Jet Black...google her. The woman has far more issues than whats mentioned in the video) actually comes to her senses for a brief moment after her surgery. She expresses regret for having gotten her nose done. Of course the next day she seems to be over it, but I wonder if that regret ever really went away.

I think loving yourself is one of the greatest gifts one can give to themselves. It isn't always easy, but in the end it is worth it. Wearing my hair naturally has contributed immensely to my well being. I've never felt so beautiful just being myself. I have days when I don't like the reflection staring back at me in the mirror, but I have more days when I do.

People go through all sorts of bullshit in life. Changing the superficial is such a band-aid fix. I can't help but think had the individuals in the documentary stopped and really considered their dilemmas for a moment longer, they would have seen that plastic surgery was not what was going to make them happy. The beauty ideal is so narrow, is there really anything wrong with being a different brand of beautiful?

The Aussie Philosophy: It isn't racist if it's done in the name of comedy?

I have a message for anyone that feels that Harry Connick Jr and the rest of us are being oversensitive about the disgusting display broadcasted on Hey Hey Its Saturday Night: we're not being oversensitive. When an individual or a group finds something you believe to be amusing incredibly insulting and offensive just because you claim that it was a joke, doesn't mean it is or that we should all be laughing. In fact, instead of continuing to portray yourselves as backward and ignorant, perhaps taking the time to do a little research and educating yourselves is in order. I'm not claiming that there isn't ignorance and racism in the rest of the world, but claiming ignorance because your country historically has been racist towards other groups (I don't think anyone can deny that Australia has a colonial past just like many other nations) is no excuse to continue laughing once you've been told the joke you're telling is wrong.

The fact of the matter is, The Jackson Five are African Americans. The Jackson Jive did a disservice to these Black music icons by portraying them in such an offensive light. Blackface has a history of specifically targeting African Americans, and using imagery with such a legacy of hate against this specific group which the Jackson Five identifies as is appalling. The fact that the group performing questioned whether or not to do the act in the first place displays that they were not completely ignorant to the potential controversy the act would bring.

I commend Harry Connick Jr for taking a stand and calling out the act for what it was. It was inappropriate. In the era of a technologically connected planet, it should be no surprise that the world would be alerted to this ignorance and would cry fowl (and justly so in my opinion).

By no means do I believe that this ignorance is a complete or accurate portrayal of all Australians. But defending stupidity when u just let your asses be shown to the world is not improving your image on the world stage. The network did the right thing for immediately apologizing when realizing that what they had done was going to be an issue. The rest of the Australian public that feels this act is still funny would do well to stop talking about things they very obviously do not understand.

Those who continue to believe and vocalize that because the performance was meant as a joke and therefore cannot be racist realize this: not all racism is overt (although taken out of the context of Australian entertainment Blackface performed like this is overtly racist). A spade will be called a spade regardless if it wears the mask of comedy. Be prepared for the rest of the world to see you as backwards racists.

Tall Enough

Saw this over on The CW Experience. It is an absolutely beautiful film. Please, if you enjoy it as much as I did, click here to vote for it.

Pet monkey...on being adopted.

I came across a website last night that really got me thinking. The site is called Harlow's Monkey. The site takes a look at the adoptee's perspective of being raise by parents other than those that gave birth to them, something that I find uncommon. Being an adoptee, most of my life nobody bothered to listen to my perspective, which I have no doubt added to the list of teenage angst's I felt growing up. It was nice to see for the first time that my experience is one that is shared. That its one that is finding a voice, and that there are people out there willing to vocalize their feelings about their experience, and make no apologies for it.

My entire life, I always felt that I was the one who was some how the burden, while the woman who adopted me was praise as being some sort of pseudo saviour. It infuriated me, because I never felt that my mother had ever done anything spectacular in adopting me, nor even that she was the model parent, doing everything right. There were plenty of things that I felt she could have handled better, but didn't. And yet, she was seen as the saviour, my so-called "white hope".

The name of the site struck me too. I've witnessed people referring to Madonna's adopted children as her pets, and have had even more disturbing reference made about me in relation to my situation. Not too long ago I received an email from a girl who had been an acquaintance of mine for years. She had been roommates with another girl I'd known and from time to time she would send me something interesting. This message however was incredible racist, and derogatory towards Black people, so I politely let her know to not send this sort of bullshit my way. Her response was basically to get over it, that niggers are worthless trash, and I should be happy that my white mother saved my monkey ass.

This coming from the same girl that I had invited into my home, and cooked an entire Thanksgiving feast for one holiday, because she had no place to go.

The thing is, as upset as I was having to be subjected to that sort of abuse, I was angrier still at my mother who still came off as the "great white hope".

It makes one question oneself as an adoptee as to what the hell sort of space we are to occupy. As alarming as it seems, it sometimes feels that becoming an adoptee equals a loss of ones own status as a dignified being of colour only to go occupy the place of being massa's pet.

To Black people, I'm not and will never be one of them. Despite the fact that we share the same struggles, to them I could never really understand the way the world works like they do. Newsflash: I don't go around wearing a sign proclaiming that I have a white mother. People see my dark skin and my nappy hair and treat me the same devalued ways all Black women who have dark skin, or nappy hair get treated. There is no difference.

To the white folks that do happen to know that I was raised by a white parent do, I will admit treat me differently than other Black folks. This is when I get to play my least favourite role...the token.

I loath the token. Even while I understand the benefits of playing her up, she is only used as a last resort. Some people take pride in being the token, I'd prefer to bury her deep.

So much of my issue with my mother growing up was that she raised me Canadian, a fact that she was proud of, and would boast to me from time to time. What she didn't realize was that raising a child "Canadian" was in fact synonymous with raising them as if they were "white".

I am not white. By looking at me, it is very clear that I am not white. So one can only imagine when reality kicked in how very confusing the world became. I will give myself credit, I began to understand the way race worked at age 8. Until that point with one or two exceptions I would venture to say that I was ignorantly unaware of how it worked, and would affect me later on in years to come.

I have gotten to the point in my relationship with my mother that I make it very clear that I am a Black woman, and she is a white one. I make sure that she realizes that the worlds that we live in are very, very different. She is learning to see the things her people do to those of different races, and she is making an effort to reevaluate her white privilege and see how messed up this world really is.

I made it to the Caribbana parade for the first time this year. We snuck in through a hole in the fence, and managed to end up right in the middle of the parade. I was so overcome with emotion I actually had to take a minute and sit down. Here was the culture that I was missing, presented to me in the most beautiful array of colours, glitter, sights, smells, rhythms, and sounds. I felt like for the first time I was allowed a glimpse of home. This is what should have been a part of me. It will never authentically be me though, despite the fact that it's in my blood and I've always secretly wished it to be so.

I highly suggest that anyone interested in the real reason behind Harlow's Monkey being named as such should go to the site and take a look around. Its really a great site!

you.need.to.comb.your.hair.

There's a girl at my work that feels the need to tell me almost every time she sees me that I need to comb my hair. To be entirely honest...and incredibly blunt, it fuckin' pisses me right off. At times, a friend of hers that works with us as well will feel the need to chime-in in agreement, which makes me feel even more murderous. I've explained to them both that combing my hair the way they think it needs to be combed is essentially like giving myself a haircut, and that it's not going to cause my hair to behave as they would like. The one tried to argue that if I combed it every day, it would get better, but I firmly silenced this nonsense by briefly explaining the science of black hair. Not that I feel I had to, it does not take a rocket scientist to figure out that my lively kinky-coils are different from their dead-weighted silken locks, but some people are just ignorant.

While the one was silenced by explanation, the other was not. What get's me about this girl is she was one of the few who supported my decision to cut off all my hair in the first place! I guess it grew in too kinky for her liking. The funny thing is, this bitch ain't even white, so how dare she subject me to beauty standards that she herself will never measure up to! Finally, a few days ago I lost my damn cool, and embarrassed her in front of enough people that hopefully a long lasting impact will have been made:

"Leave my fucking hair alone! Its not your fucking hair, its my fucking hair, and you may not like it, but I fucking love it, so SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!!"

Silence. Laughter from my other co-workers happy I finally told this girl to shut up (she was being generally obnoxious that day) and amused by the obscene number of times I had used the word "fuck". Than someone asking, "Are you being serious?"

"Yes. I am being serious."

Maybe it was harsh, but why the hell am I having to defend the way I wear my hair to anybody? Especially to someone I work with, it just seems rather ridiculous does it not? Ridiculous, but not surprising.

I knew by cutting my hair and wearing it natural that I was doing something very radical from the start. A black woman's hair can never just be her own, everyone feels that they have some say in how it should look. I've known from a young age to expect unwanted criticism of my hair, and have it dictated to me by people who had no business doing so on how I should style it.

But enough is enough. My hair is mine, my hair is beautiful, and I will wear it how I want to, with pride, and simply not give a damn what anyone thinks any more.

Today I was riding the bus, and this black girl kept sneaking peeks at me when she thought I couldn't see her. I saw her. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her. She may have been thinking "how dare that bitch wear her hair like that and act like she's somebody" or maybe she was thinking "huh...natural hair can look good." Judging by the expression she wore, I'm betting it was a bit of both. No matter which it was, my hair got her thinking. Did you know, natural hair is contagious?

Hair inspiration found at my new fav spot to stalk: lecoil

Right now I'm listening to:

Leo Di in ♥ with Chocolate?

I don't know about love...but he does seem to be enjoying himself some CHOCOLATE GODDESS!!!!!!!!!

When I was a little girl, some kid at camp told me my crush on Leo was pointless, because he would never date a Black woman...

All I can say now is, "HAHAHAHAHA...HAHAHAHA...U WERE WRONG, BLACK WOMEN ROCK!!!!!"

Oh, and she's a dark skinned chocolate dyme...even better!

A P.S.A. from Megan Fox

Megan Fox Public Service Announcement - Watch more Funny Videos

All I can say is "wow"!!!! Megan Fox just earned some serious points in my book!

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Source: TheFreeDictionary.com

I recently started playing a Zynga game on Facebook called Roller Coaster Kingdom. Much to my annoyance, I quickly discovered that not only were all the characters white in the game, but there was also no way of changing this either. I was stuck with the default. Having played other Zynga games, I've noticed a trend with them being unable to get their characters of colour right. In the game Yoville, it took many months before they finally fixed the bug that wouldn't allow characters of a darker hue (no matter how many times you would try to choose the option, the character would always revert back to the colour of sand). They have still yet to make afro hairstyles available for female players, although male players can choose to sport one if they so wish.

As a woman of colour, I am well aware of the fact that I am the alternative, and not the default. I am well aware of the fact that in being so, my physical traits are considered by the mainstream as less refined, less beautiful, and simply not as good. Its an issue that many little black girls, and grown black women (and those who straddle the bar) are left to come to terms with on a daily basis. I would be lying if I said I never doubted if I was beautiful, or ever wondered if I was treated differently based on how I look. Looks shouldn't matter, but human beings are visual, and the world is a very superficial place.

The thing is though, lost within all the hype about how great it is to be the default, is the fact that the default is boring! I'm not trying to put down those who fit perfectly into that mold, in fact more power to you for being born so perfect. I just feel that for the majority of us that were not born so blessed, trying to press ourselves into that same mold just because we are told its the best way to be, knowing deep down that we will never quite fit is incredibly stupid. Differences should be celebrated, not chastised and destroyed.

Take the example of Beyonce and Solange. Bey is your typical wannabe default, and she does a damn good job of cramming herself into that mold it must be noted...but she is very replaceable. There are a million and one defaults waiting to snatch up her spot under the light and take away her shine at any second. I'm sure she works very hard to maintain her default appearance, but why? When looking at her sister it is obvious that both women were the recipients of some good DNA. I know many will probably disagree, but I think Solange in her natural state has finally managed to out-shine her sister. Basement Baby wins this one, hands down.

When pics of Solange's new do first surfaced, I couldn't get over the ignorant comments people were making. Some even claimed that because she was a celebrity, that her wearing her hair natural didn't matter. I disagree. It matters.

When I was in highschool, I cut all my hair off for the second time in my young adult life. I don't remember ever really thinking anything of it until one day, some punk-ass white boy made a comment to a friend about not wanting to hang with a girl who had less than an inch of hair. Why she passed the comment along is beyond me, but needless to say it did its damage.

For the next 5 years, I hid behind wigs and weaves, despite the fact that I yearned for the last 3 to be rid of them. Finally, a couple of months ago I got up the courage, and the fake b.s. along with a considerable amount of my hair went bye-bye. And I couldn't be happier about it. My style inspiration: Amber Rose

I really don't give a crap what anyone thinks about this woman, she looks hot. Seeing her short hair made the wanting of my teeny weeny afro back unbearable. It wasn't just simply copying a trend for me, but a reclaiming of my natural image as being beautiful. Sure, it took seeing it on someone else for me to come to my senses, but that's ok, because I eventually did get my head right.

As much as I would like to fully agree that one can not be proud of something they have no say in, in the real world this simply is not the case. Maybe in some future utopia we will get to that point, but it hasn't happened yet. The reality is that people are proud of all sorts of things they have no business taking pride in. Not only are people proud for silly reasons, but they also make others feel shame for things out of their control. It can not be argued that we as black beings are discouraged from taking full esteem in ourselves. Praying on the differences of others is a money making business. While we continue under a fake veil of bought confidence, selling fake hair and dangerous chemicals to black women is making others rich.

So despite it being a flawed concept, I believe the only way we as black women will find balance in our lives in regards to our appearance is if we quit trying to be the default, and take pride and celebrate being the alternative. Because nobody else can do it for us, we're the only ones that can make the choice to be loved for who we are.

An empty seat for...

Life is never just simple. As humans, we seem doomed to hang suspended between a delicate balance, heartbeats away from chaos. We live lives of contradiction, but from this contradiction we find peace and sanity. At least it would seem that my life is very much like that. As I grow older, the more I realize that I am far from unique, and in fact possibly even typical. So I suspect it's safe to say that I am not alone.

My spirituality it too would seem is somewhat contradictory. I was asked the other day if I went to church. Its funny how ashamed I was to admit that I didn't. I guess when it comes right down to it; I could hardly place myself into the category of a "good Christian woman". I mean I definitely believe that I am a good person...and I do believe in God, but...I hardly follow the rules when it comes to being a "good Christian".

I drink, smoke, and enjoy a little fornication. I try to do things in moderation, but I'm a young modern woman. I'm human. I feel life is too short to not live it as you please, because you never know when your time will be up. And I admire people who have dedicated themselves to a religion, I really do. I have the utmost respect for the faithful, but I'm just not ready, or calm enough for that shit.

Its funny. When I do go to church, I feel like I'm being a hypocrite. I know that probably half the folks there are just the same as me, but still I feel this way. But when shit gets real tough, I do pray. It was something I learned to do when life was at its darkest. And you know, it worked. My prayers were answered. Now I find myself doing it all the time. I pray, and my prayers are answered. Anyone who's going through difficult times should try it out.

I think a part of me is also embarrassed to admit that I believe something is out there too. Smart people aren't "supposed" to believe in anything other than science. The number of times I've heard patronizing comments in response to my affirmation of my faith from friends, who claim to be too "intelligent" for religion, is disheartening.

Maybe that's why I never turn away the Jehovah's Witnesses. I always listen to what they have to say, because maybe they do have it figured out. At the very least, I always come away learning something new. I guess its because I'm an existentialist at heart. I simply don't have it in me to deny that anything can't be, because I believe it is impossible to ever really know anything. Because what really is real? There is more to this world than meets the eye.

I hate that in order to be a "free thinker" you must consider yourself an atheist. That within itself is a contradiction. To limit the definition is to put restraint on it, and therefore remove its freedom! If I'm truly a freethinking being, why can't I choose out of my freedom of thought to believe in God (or many for that matter)?

I do see the flip side though. I get why people choose to avoid religion. Its caused so many wars, and oppressed so many groups. Hell, as far as some religions are concerned it wouldn't be a sin to keep myself, and people that look like me in shackles, to serve as second-class citizens to a supposed elite.

I feel that a woman should have the right to choose what her body is subjected to. I don't feel that a woman should ever just "follow" a man because by default she is supposedly the weaker of the sexes, and I refuse to believe that who a person chooses to love, whether they are of the opposite sex or the same will buy them a one-way ticket to hell.

In fact, I don't even believe there is a hell. If it does exist, than this world must be it. Only hell could be filled with such hate.

So the intellects do have a point. But then, I think Badu said it best, "...most intellects do not believe in God, but they fear us just the same..."

I told myself I was gonna leave it alone, but...

Since Michael Jackson's death, I will admit that I have started and deleted many blog posts on my thoughts about the Pop star. I was sure that if someone else hadn't already said it, in 5 minutes somebody else would. I will admit, I even became tired of the non-stop coverage of Michael. Not because I don't think that MJ was a superstar and deserved it, but because of the so many under-handed comments and exploitative nature of the coverage within and outside the blogosphere and the internets.

I never wanted to come off as disrespectful, because there is a time and a place for everything, and hours or days after his death on some random blog was neither the time nor the place. And besides, I'm far from being any sort of expert on anything significant.

Unfortunately, not everybody felt the same way. All of a sudden, people with absolutely no business doing so were dissecting something they never could have any clue about: White people, sometimes y'all just need to shut the fuck up.

I am so tired of these so-called white experts. Bill O'Reilly is an idiot. On very seldom occasion do I ever even partially agree with what the man has to say on anything. I'm sure he's not really as stupid as he comes off sounding, and that he's really just that arrogant, but wow...sometimes I am just not convinced, because how can one continuously spout such nonsense?

MICHAEL JACKSON WAS BLACK! He was a BLACK man, he was a BLACK superstar, and He was a BLACK icon. BLACK, BLACK, BLACK, BLACK, BLACK. Got it? Should I say it some more? BLACK! No matter how much Michael Jackson supposedly wanted to erase his BLACKNESS, he was BLACK. BLACKNESS is inescapable. Which is probably why he opted to have white children, if indeed he did indeed hate his BLACKNESS so much. I did not know Michael personally, so I can't say that he indeed hated himself for being BLACK. All I have to go on is the image he presented to the public: a BLACK man with bleached skin, but a BLACK man who placed BLACK folks in Egypt in a music video, who sang about it not mattering what colour a person's skin was, and raised money for causes in Africa. If nothing else, one can't deny that MJ was aware, and even somewhat conscious when it came to the subject of his BLACKNESS.

I mean what are the alternatives here, that he was white? That is impossible, he was born a Black human being. A part of me almost believes that anyone making the claim that Michael Jackson wasn't Black is attempting to claim him as his or her own. But since he broke down so many barriers for Black people in the music industry, and since he was so "weird" why would any white person want to claim him right? (*rolling eyes*) Guess that they're just addicted to the hype that is Michael.

And lets be honest about this weirdness. So he has white kids, who fucking cares. Madonna, and Angelina, and even my own mother have Black children...does that make them any less white? It sure doesn't!

So he bleached his skin. So do a lot of Black people. Even more wear fake eyes, and fake hair, or put dangerous chemicals on their heads in order to conform to what many believe to be the norm...and this isn't seen as odd. In fact, maintaining ones Blackness in its natural state is far weirder in the so-called Black community than destroying it. I'm not saying that's at all appropriate, or that there isn't something very wrong with it, but I am saying its normal.

As for the weirdness with children, I'm not touching that with a ten-foot pole, because I can't even properly makes sense of it my own self, but neither can a lot of people. So yeah, he definitely gets a weird penalty for that one, not for the molestation charges because he was acquitted, but for admitting on national television that he slept in the same bed as kids who were not his own.

But please you so-called white experts stop attacking MJ's Blackness! It's so uncool, because any intelligent white person knows that they will never ever understand what it is to be black. So please, stop acting like fools.

You'll always be King.

August 29, 1958 – June 25, 2009

Do you remember where you were? Do you remember what you were doing when you found out the King of Pop had passed? People remember when Elvis died, they remember when Lennon was shot, they remember watching a man land on the moon...and today too will be one of those moments that will go down as one that we all will remember.

This is the end of an era. Do they even come as great as Michael anymore? Nobody before or since entertained the world the way Michael did with his tremendous gifts. Even when he went from the King of Pop to the King of craziness, nobody could deny his musical genius.

I remember being 6, and wanting to heal the world, and believing it didn't matter if people were black or white. I remember crying watching a whale jump a stone wall to freedom listening to your lyrics. You were just so cool.

We all secretly wished we could be you.

...so controversially badass!

Created by Dina Goldstein. Originally posted at JPGmag

I l♥ve the photo above. And maybe I shouldn't. And I actually know why I probably should be completely outraged by this photo, but I can't help but smile every time I look at it.

I despise stereotypes. I make it my goal to never be a stereotype and always be a surprise in life to the people who come into contact with me. So this photo which falls back on the tired race stereotype of the brown "terrorist" should really just piss me off...but it doesn't.

To be honest, I've never really gotten how some groups of people can see certain acts of people in the Middle East as acts of terrorism and yet in the same beat be so damn blind as to believe that the same acts perpetrated by their own governments are done in the name of freedom.

Don't we all want to be free? Don't we all just want to fight for what is right? I hate propaganda, probably because buying into it means I have to pick a side, which unless it personally involves me is not something I ever like to do.

So I guess you could say my interpretation of the photo is that Princess Jasmine (yea, that's right, this is supposed to be the image of the Disney Princess forced into modern reality) is instead of being the typically helpless damsel in distress as her country is torn apart by war...is taking a stand and fighting against those who wish to rob her country of it's wealth and beauty.

Terribly flawed, I'm sure...but when I hear some of the ignorant things people say about people of the Islamic faith it makes me sick (the other day at work, I had a woman come through my line and say after a man of possibly Indian descent rudely pushed past her without saying excuse me, than tell her to go "excuse herself" after she corrected him, that "isn't it horrible that these people are taking over the world? I pray everyday for our fates." The most embarrassing part was that she was black, and I hate when someone who shares the same pigmentation as myself says something so ignorant when they should know better).

...I'm sorry. I just can't help but l♥ve it (this pic)...as wrong as that may be.


Right now I'm listening to:

ARISE Africa Fashion Week pt 2...Is Blackness a trend?

Designer: Lanre DaSilva Ajayi

Photos originally posted at Ladybrille

Designer: Ituen Basi

Photos originally posted at ifashion

Designer: Nkwo

Photos originally posted at ifashion

Did you get that? Watch it again, and pay real close attention to what she says at 2:37 into the clip. I believe that it's absolutely wonderful that the fashion world is starting to accept ethnicity, but the fact that it is so blatantly open about its bigotry in this day and age is appalling.

"They really don't take black models, as they told me...."

Sure, I mean at the very least they are being honest, but at the same time its almost seems as if they're only being so honest because they really aren't sorry for their past offenses.

Sometimes I wonder if this embracing of black beauty is simply a trend and will soon fade into none existence (probably in about another 4 to 8 years...) Well at least for now black is beautiful, I just hope that it sticks.

mary mary quite contrary....

Why Mary, why? I've always had a lot of respect for Mary J. Blige. She just comes off as so damn...real. Her music is the stuff emotion is made of. She has become a legend without having to die or go crazy...which it would seem is damn near impossible. I've always admired her.

So when I heard that she had teamed up with Chris Brown to record a track after the notorious incident, I was damn well nearly shocked into comatose. I mean how could she? She has her own past which she had to overcome, how in the hell could she be a supporter of team Chris the "Monster" Brown?

I've basically dismissed anyone who believes that Chris Brown doesn't deserve everything that's coming to him as either a complete tool, dizzy in the head, or themselves a monster...or all of the above. I mean the dude busted up Rhi-rhi's face so bad she was barely recognizable. Who does that except a monster? I will admit, I have kept my mouth shut about the whole damn thing for the most part because I've actually stopped respecting people over arguments over this damn fiasco. But Mary? Really, Mary? Please oh please tell me this was a momentary slip in judgment and that you will soon come to your senses!

I mean, as a black woman, she should be the last person supporting this loser! It isn't helping our cause, not one bit! Ok, so maybe she is trying to preach a message of forgiveness, or some such nonsense...but the song kind of sucks to begin with, and I think its a horrible message still. "It's ok lil' Sally if your mans done bust up ya face, turn da other cheek and forgive him...so he can bust up da other side..."

I am so glad Rhianna finally came to her senses and left him high and dry. I can only speculate as to what was going through MJB's mind when she agreed to team up with Chris Brown.

I mean, we've all heard the saying "all publicity is good publicity..." maybe she was thinking that this might cause some noise around her which will later translate into dollars...

But again, I find this just as disturbing as the idea that she's simply preaching a message of forgiveness. In fact, I think it's worse. Because now, she is not only supporting a woman beater, but exploiting a situation where a woman got beat down simply in the name of the almighty dollar...

Mary has walked a mile in Rhi-rhi's shoes. she should be offering guidance and support! Smh...Mary must have lost her damn mind...I just don't get it.

Right Now I'm listening to:

ARISE Africa Fashion Week

So there is hope for blackness in the fashion world...

African Fashion International (AFI), organizers of the Johannesburg, Cape Town and Durban Fashion Weeks, is proud to announce ARISE Africa Fashion Week, a showcase of the continent’s leading fashion designers at the Sandton Convention Centre in Johannesburg, from the 12 to 20 June 2009.

ARISE Africa Fashion Week is five-year sponsorship agreement with ARISE Magazine, the acclaimed magazine of African style and culture. ARISE launched in February 2009 and is produced in the United Kingdom and distributed internationally. Source

Johannesburg Fashion Week 2008

Designer David Tlale

Cape Town Fashion Week 2007

Designer Thabani Mavundla

Durban Fashion Week 2008

Designer Bekky Beukes’

Right now I'm listening to:

...au naturale...

I'm an attention whore. I like doing things that shock the shit out of people. Going natural may very well have been one of these instances where I've simply done something to see how people react. Don't get me wrong, there was way more behind why I decided to go for it, and do the "big cut" but truly I believe it may have simply been I wanted to see if I really had the balls to do something so drastic.

In all honesty, up until recently, I wasn't a fan of the natural sista. I thought naturals were stuck-up bitches that had something to prove (ironic since the same could probably be said about yours truly). I had a dread sista tell me one time I wore weave because I wanted to be white. The nerve of that bitch! But it got me thinking, why exactly did I wear weave in the first place?

And so came the phase of contemplation. Weave was easier! (I proclaimed) Black hair was difficult (I exclaimed) Its a white man's world, and whitey liked it better when you conformed (I told myself). And for awhile, these excuses were enough. But the question still nagged...was I, by wearing weave indeed mimicking whiteness because I hated my own Blackness deep down inside?

The answer was obvious. No. I did, and do not want to be white. Although sometimes I will admit I look at the outlook my white friends have on life, and I think to myself (or sometimes out loud...they're used to me!) it must be damn nice to be so fucking oblivious to like...EVERYTHING. But sill, I would not trade being Black for all the tea in China...so WHY????

Why did I wear weave? This question became unbearable, the excuses seemed shittier and shittier, until one day I concluded that I simply had no clue as to why I felt the need to mimic something I'm not.

So off it all went. Hasta luego hair. Now because I have been chemical free for almost 9 years, I could have just took the fake stuff out...but I had a little hair "mishap" (i.e. the girl who did my braids glued the bitches into my actual hair, and as a result I had chunks of nail glue stuck up in there). Any who, I needed the change anyhow.

It's funny, cause when I asked my usual stylist (not the one who glued up my head) to cut my hair, I could tell she was kind of in shock. It's not the 1st time I've asked her to cut my hair, the first time resulting in her convincing me not to cut it all off, lol... This time however, she had no choice! She kept asking me if I was gonna be wearing a wig while my hair grew.

The thought of wearing a wig makes me queasy. Its like a strike against my pride. which is ironic, because I wore weave...but somehow wigs just...wig me out! I don't feel the need to ever have to wear them. I will strut my bald-headed stuff before I ever even consider going there.

Not to knock those who choose to wear them. I've just seen too many matted up wigs to believe that a wig could ever look better than my natural hair....but whatever.

Actually, that's what it all came down too. Being exposed to one too many bad weaves, wigs, hairpieces, and the whole shebang...braids included. I started to get real scared: what if my weave looked just as bad as all those other nasty contraptions other Black women were putting on their heads? How could I possibly ever know?

So off it went. Sayonara hair. And when it was gone, I felt no remorse. Sure I felt somewhat insecure...but hell, I was glad it was gone. I felt liberated. It was a choice that I never expected anyone to understand, except possibly another Black female. I was in for a surprise.

You see, it was because I was insecure, and fake hair was my security blanket. The first person to see my hair besides my roommates (who had to pretend they liked my new do, cause it be awkward otherwise) was this Latina girl in one of my classes I was meeting up with to study with before exams. The first thing out of her mouth was "wow, it looks so good. Doesn't it feel good to just be natural? I felt the same way. I used to dye my hair until I got tired of it, and just wanted to go back to it being dark."

I was shocked! I couldn't believe she got it! And so many other people, not Black got it too...and I realized quite simply I was not interested in associating with anyone who didn't get it. Because, THIS IS ME. This is the way god made me, take me as I am, or else you can go fuck yourself. Kind of blunt, but why should I feel like I have to change myself to fit in? It just isn't right.

It's amazing what confidence has come from reclaiming my nappiness. A friend made a comment about hoping my children would be born with "good hair" and as I looked at her, with her matted up wig, I thought: I HOPE ONE DAY YOU CAN FREE YOUR MIND. Later that night we went to the club, and the next day she remarked how other females in the club were hatin' over the fact that men were still paying me attention, because apparently I just "got it like that", natural or not.

It's funny, cause at first I don't really think that I believed that I was still beautiful natural. I figured I was somehow maiming my appearance, but I was ok with that because I rather be loved for the real me. I now see that that is completely silly, and that I look better this way. Turns out Black really is beautiful. Go figure.

Right now I'm listening to:

"It's a dirty game"

(CNN) -- A Florida man has been charged with first-degree murder after authorities say he threw a 3-month-old boy out of a moving car on a Tampa interstate.

Richard Anthony McTear Jr., 21, was arrested Tuesday, hours after a confrontation at his former girlfriend's apartment in which he snatched the child, the Hillsborough County sheriff's office said.

A passing motorist found Emanuel Wesley Murray's body on the interstate. An autopsy determined the child died of blunt trauma to the head, the county medical examiner's office said.

Video on CNN affiliate WFLA TV showed McTear being led out of a Tampa police squad car after his arrest. He ducked his head as TV cameras surrounded him on his walk into a police building.

When asked by reporters if he had thrown the child out of the car window, McTear answered, "It's a dirty game. A dirty game."

McTear is not related to the child, said sheriff's spokeswoman Debbie Carter. Source

And so begin the ignorant, and vicious comments on the youtubes...

Don't get me wrong. I am sickened and disgusted by this man. Very rarely do I ever feel that putting someone to death is ever warranted. But when a child is tortured/raped/murdered by an adult, I believe that the punishment should match the crime. This pathetic excuse for a human being should be exterminated.

As a black person, I always hate when vicious crimes like these are perpetrated by blacks. There's almost a begging - more like a pleading, for the person to be anything but black, before their race is confirmed. I know I'm not alone in this. I had a black studies professor proclaim that when the Scarborough rapist was on the loose, many black people were hoping that the man wasn't black. A sigh of relief passed over the black community here in Toronto when it was confirmed that the man's identity was in fact Paul Bernardo.

It's the fact that many ignorant non-blacks are automatically going to make the assumption that this is typical behaviour amongst black people, when we all know nothing could be further from the truth.

May this child find peace in the afterlife.

R.I.P. Emanuel Wesley Murray.

...feeling the need to go against the carefully constructed grain...

I've been doing a lot of thinking lately. I'm tired of this world, I'm tired of my life. I'm tired of trying to be someone constructed by others. I don't want to be the norm. I want to rebel. I know by my age I probably should be at least starting to get the hell over myself, but I can't help it. I crave change.

And aren't we supposedly in the era of "change". I look at the identities that society has constructed for me...and somehow, something doesn't match up, they aren't me. So who am I? Where are the voices of those like me, where the hell is our story, why have we been ignored for so long?

You see, this is exactly why I ♥adore♥ Michelle Obama. Because she breaks the mould, she is everything she isn't supposed to be, and you either love it or you hate it. Me, I'm lovin it! Finally there is an alternative to the stereotype. Someone young women can admire and strive to be like. She most certainly may not be perfect (even though in my eyes she is), and the fact so few black women who exhibit these same characteristics are basically ignored is just pathetic - but its a start.

She just has so much damn class! She manages to be strong, beautiful, and feminine; a privilege almost never extended to the black woman. We can be strong, sure we can even sometimes be seen as beautiful...but feminine? It seems like the only time I see a woman like myself represented, her image is skewed in someway to fit neatly into some category: she is the Mammy, the angry black female, or the Jezebel whore. Michelle so far has proved herself to be none of the three. It's about fucking time.

Even at the scholarly level when black women are the subject, and the authors too are black, it still feels like the story is missing for women like me. Take some of my favourite books, Mama Day, I, Tituba Black Witch of Salem, or There Eyes Were Watching God. Sure, they are all stories of "black" women...but they are of European ancestry as well. The conditions in order to be deemed worthy of having your story reproduced seems to be, a) be anything but black, or b) be mixed, or at the very least male. Don't get me wrong, I love these books and I am grateful to the authors who produced them for letting the products of their creativity out into the world...but where is my story?

This...



...is not my story.

Every now and again, I come across a bit of positive truth on the youtubes. Considering Youtube has got to be one of the most damaging places on the Internet to the psyche of a black woman, I am always shocked to say the least when I come across something that doesn't follow this painful norm.

Well now, talk about some truths some people are really not gonna want to hear. These are facts, that can't be disputed - colour them and twist them all you want to make them more palatable. Its truths like these that make some people squirm. Take the other day in class. The question was asked whether one could conclude that in black hip hop and dance hall culture the black female body was exploited for the sake of the otherwise powerless black males elevation of self, and why. The answer is obvious: because in society, black people really don't hold any true power. The white girl beside me cringed when I said this. Later, when I made the point that white people need to get over the violence in hip hop because the white privilege they rely on on a daily basis was seized through means of a very bloody and violent past that exploited and raped pretty much every other group in existence, their was more cringing and squirming around the room. I think I pissed off some white girls that day. whoops.

Now the issue of the environment is extremely interesting to me. It is no secret that the destruction of the environment was due to the "rise of the West," which really is code for the rise of the white man. As a student who is studying this as her major, I am constantly having this fact repeated to me over and over again. Their is a duality which seems to exist in the persona of the white male environmentalist. He elevates himself above everyone else, and yet feels guilty for doing so at the same time. Apparently, not guilty enough, since the conditions of our planet remain on a path to destruction to a future that looks starkly bleak. A small group of rich white men make decisions that affect a large number of impoverished women of colour. And again I repeat, the future looks starkly bleak.

It is also no secret that with the "rise of the West" came the restrictive bindings of patriarchy. I am tired. Have I said so before? I never considered myself a feminist before taking the time to do some research into the concepts of Ecofeminism, but I guess now I must make this consideration. I just want to be free. I just want to be heard. I just want my story told, as a woman, as a person of colour, as a human being. Because I am important, and I will not be forced into some neat little category, to be filed away, and forgotten...

Right now I'm listening to:

RIP Asia McGowan

This is so incredibly tragic. A beautiful, young Black woman's life has been extinguished.

Anthony Powell, the man Dearborn police believe killed 20-year-old student Asia McGowan in a college classroom Friday before killing himself, posted hateful videos on the Web site YouTube in which he railed against black women and people who believe in the theory of evolution.

Powell's grief-stricken parents -- a retired Detroit Police officer and a registered nurse -- said Sunday their 28-year-old son had a history of mental illness. Sam and Doris Powell said they tried for years to get help for their son's clinical depression and other problems but never suspected he would hurt another person. Source

Tragic and senseless, this was obviously a very disturbed man. Unfortunately though, he can't just be written off as an exception to the rule; an individual case of "crazy". This man, like many others harboured an inexcusable hatred for the Black woman. More extreme than most, in an act of extreme hate, he took this woman's life, this Black woman's life. For that, I'm sure his God has him burning in hell.

But there are many others who exhibit the exact same hatred for the Black woman on Youtube every day. It's disturbing, and so incredibly sad to see that the majority of those propagating this hatred are black men.

Black women are the most disrespected group on this planet. You can rape us, beat us, and murder us....and somehow it always seems to be our faults. People are actually trying to say that because Asia turned this monster down, this is the reasoning behind her murder.

Ummm...pardon me...but that's bullshit. I do not believe that anything could have stopped Anthony Powell from carrying out his plan. He was an incredibly confused individual. He was going to hurt himself, and somebody else regardless of the situation.

My thoughts and prayers go out to her family.

I...have a question...

As a Black woman, I would like to think that I have options. I would like to believe that when it comes right down to it, I can do whatever I please, that the world is my oyster (the leader of the "free" world is a Black man, for fucks sake...that alone should speak volumes about what Black people can potentially achieve, if they so please). So why is it, anytime it comes to interracial dating, and the Black woman, the answer is automatically "date a white dude"?

What if I don't want to? What if I want to date a Latino, or an Asian, or maybe an Arab, or a Jew? WHY, must the Black female be limited by these two choices: white, or black? We all know the expression 'bout nothing being black or white, just many shades of grey...so instead of running to whitey because the black man don't seem to be actin right, can't I just go brown?

I'm not saying there's anything wrong with dating a white dude, or even that I've never seen a Black woman with a man who was something other than black or white...it just seems whenever the topic of interracial dating comes up, the only other "plausible" solution to the equation is a white dude.

I mean...Jesus Christ on a hot plate! It just seems so ridiculous to me! When I hear shit from Black women like..."well black men don't act right, so I'm gonna date a white dude," it makes me wonder do these woman really believe they are incapable of attracting something else?

I'm sorry, but I like flavour (yeah, I said it). I can't say I'd ever rule out vanilla, 'cause when it comes right down to it, love is blind...right? But when I hear shit from white people like, "oh, if you dated a white dude you would have such cute babies..." that shit just makes me wanna rebel/vomit. I refuse to fall into that silly sort of bullshit mindset that seems to plague so many...both white and black.

To be honest, on the day my Prince Charming comes riding in on his grey speckled pony, as long as he loves me, and treats me right, the shade he comes in doesn't really matter....but still...

Right now I'm listening to: