Nostalgia Takes a Ride

Sometimes I forget how few black folks there are in Los Angeles. And then I come to Chicago and, wow, there's black folks all around. Strolling down State Street in suits, bumping their stereos on Stony Island Avenue. Holding hands, popping gum, tossing weaves, rocking hot pink lip gloss and heels to match. All hues of skin, textures of hair.

I don't stand out. My children don't stand out. I miss that and, like a familiar lover holding your hand, it's nice to feel it once more.

And I've missed the El. I've missed riding the Evanston Express northbound out of downtown, electricity popping off the track as it rounds the curve at Sedgewick, the lean of the train letting me see both the front and back of it.

There's so many advertisements painted on the outsides of the train cars. I saw one whole train that seemed completely dedicated to Bank of America, another to iTunes. Are both companies paying enough to offset those fares... two dollars to ride the El now.

I caught people watching me on the train yesterday, and I've done my share of observation... like the guy downing FOUR cans of Jim Beam and cola between Randolph and Wabash and Howard... I suppose I should be grateful he wasn't driving a car.

It warms my heart to see all the Cubs gear everywhere. (Never the White Sox for me, sorry.) I love the humidity that causes my hair to spiral to epic heights off my head, even as I know it will be replaced by the winter's chill in no time at all, so fleeting are these summer days. And how wonderful it is to make plans to go see Stevie Wonder at the Taste of Chicago with friends who've known me for half my life or more. Folks who know me and love me for who I am, not for who they think I am or who they want me to be.

Remind me why I don't live here.

Yet, if I release the nostalgia, the reminders are everywhere. I know why I left and why I stay gone. It is easier to be away and just visit than it is to scratch beneath the surface too deeply.

Will I ever outgrow that feeling of needing to escape the past, even as I know it is probably for my own protection that I have been gone?

What Will Her Baby "Be"?

I keep thinking about a conversation I had on Wednesday with a dear friend who's pregnant. This is the friend I'm going to knit the baby blanket for, but to preserve her anonymity, I'll call her... Martha. How's that for a nice, anonymous name?

Martha is like me. She's also half black and half Irish, and, like me, identifies as being both black and biracial. Despite both being told at various times in our lives that we talk "white" or act "white", neither of us have ever identified as white. We like being black and neither of us is totally crazy.

No wait, that's not true! A dozen years ago on an American Airlines flight out of Birmingham, Alabama, I told my seat mate that I was white. He was an older white gentleman who chose to try to strike up the, "I'll bet your people are just so proud of that Barack Obama Tiger Woods, aren't ya?" conversation.

"What do you mean?" I replied.

"Y'know. 'Cause he's a black fella playing golf. Not to many of y'all black folks playing golf, now are there?" I remember he laughed and slapped his knee.

That's when my 23 year-old sort-of-crazy self decided to say, "Yeah... Tiger's great. As a white woman, I admire everything he's accomplished. It's amazing."

You can imagine how that stopped the laughter. "Whadda ya mean? You're not a white woman! Just look at yerself!"

I gave him my best, OMG, how could you say that I'm not white, I'm sooo shocked look, and said to the man, "Well, my daddy's white and you know, according to the old European patrilineal descent laws, that means I'm white." Then I calmly gave him my dazzling "How ya like me now!" smile.

He pushed the flight attendant button and asked to have his seat changed.

And that's the only time I've ever told someone that I'm white. Doing so in this country is completely unacceptable. We like our one drop rule here and it keeps us comfortable because that's the way it's always been. Black is black, as folks like to say.

In case someone takes me bringing all this up as a sign that I want to be white because of deeply ingrained self-hate, nooo, that's not the case. I just find how we rub along with these man-made racial definitions pretty fascinating and sometimes I like to push buttons just to see what happens. Plus, I've never "bought" that acknowledging and loving my Irish heritage means that I don't want to be black. Gosh, we're brainwashed, aren't we?

Anyway, my girlfriend, Martha, got married late last year to an awesome guy who's also Irish. They came out from NYC for a quick visit this week and of course we got to talking about the baby. She started telling me how she's thinking a whole lot lately about what the baby's going to look like and of course, this led to a conversation about race and what's the baby going to be identified as. "Be", as in, what race the baby is going to be.

Some people might think it's a silly thing to think about because a pregnant woman should just be thinking about delivering a healthy baby, but, again, this is America. We have race on the brain all the time, as evidenced by the fact that we're once more living in the days of the never ending discussion about whether or not Obama's actually black, even though he self-identifies as black.

Martha's going to have a baby that's essentially 3/4 Irish and 1/4 Grenadian. Clearly the baby's going to navigate it's own identity, but what does Martha do as a mother when she'll be required to "assign" an identity to her child? Or when other folks try to assign that identity? Does she adhere to the one drop rule which says that one drop of black blood equals black? Does she go old-school and say that her baby is a quadroon? Does she say that the baby is bi-racial, or does she say that her baby is white?

I think Martha's leaning toward seeing her baby as being black. And indeed, to claim blackness is something to be proud of, even if, sadly enough, it really isn't seen as something desirable in our culture. But, Martha was also talking about how, depending on what the baby looks like, she can see it going around saying, "I'm black!" and getting some crazy stares. We both know folks who have experienced this, folks who strongly identify as black, despite looking "white". Yeah, those are the folks who usually get told fun stuff like that they only claimed to be black so they could get an admissions edge at college.

Thinking about all this feels like trying to make sense out of system that's insane. I told Martha how the baby will have to find its own way, carve out its own identity, but that ultimately, the baby's "race" is going to be the least important thing about it when it's born. It's going to be a beautiful baby because it'll be loved and cherished.

But really, I don't have any easy answers for all this. Do you? What do you think?

Polygamist Diversity?

Until today I hadn't really paid attention to the whole Texas FLDS polygamy ranch scandal. The minute I hear the word "polygamy", I tend to think of some controlling men who have brainwashed some poor women so that they can have lots of sex and get waited on hand and foot.

Watching some of the wives from the ranch on the Today Show this morning did nothing to change my assumption. My goodness, these ladies need some serious deprogramming, not to mention a few hours alone with Tim Gunn.



At the 2:14 mark, I was totally talking to my TV:

"Do you hear the craziness you're saying? Is your hair for real? Why are you dressed like you're on Little House on the Prairie? Do you know you sound like a robot?"

Even if they want to claim that no abuse happened with their kids, wowzer, they seriously need help in the mental department!

And another thing, I'm just wondering, are there ever African-American polygamists? Asian-American polygamists? Latinos? Or do white folks in these United States have polygamy on lock down or something?

Even on that TV show, Big Love, it was all white ladies as the wives. And instead of the husband looking like the Grizzly Adams we urban elite snobs clearly think they look like, Bill Paxton gets thrown in there as the husband.

Is America just not ready to see some black guy from the 'Sip being stressed by having to manage his relationships with his four wives? Don't we want to see the Chinese guy from the outskirts of San Francisco getting his freak on with Wife #1 on Monday, Wife #2 on Wednesday and Wife #3 on the weekends?

I know some comedian somewhere has probably told a joke at some point about how no real sistah is gonna tolerate being Wife Number Two, let alone being Wife Number Twenty. But at the fine university I went to, there were black women who lived on the south end of campus and tolerated their boyfriends having another girl on the north end of campus. True, the two ladies may have eventually had an ugly altercation in the Tech building over this situation, and said altercation may have ultimately been blamed on one of them being ghetto since she was from Gary, but you get where I'm going with this, right? And in the many years since college, how many times have I heard someone say, "He may creep with her but he comes home to me at night."

So why don't black folks, Asians and Latinos just full on go for the polygamist route? Not saying it should go down like that, because I don't, but why don't we have a little more diversity in our polygamists?

Book Love

I'm home alone since my husband took my sons over to a friend's house to hang out. Nothing good is on TV and no new movies have come from Netflix yet.

But no worries because I have a whole lot of books in this house that need reading.

I'm one of those people that drops the $30 on the the Barnes & Noble membership/discount card and actually gets my money's worth back in a couple months. I know in theory that it's possible to walk out of there without buying anything, but I'm not to that point yet. There's always something good to read whispering in my ear, "Buy me! I have a pretty cover and I'm really well written and engaging!"

Oh and then there's my three library books that I haven't read yet because I'm reading something I picked up at my neighborhood independent bookstore, Skylight Books, two months ago. And yesterday I realized I haven't read "Dracula" in about a month so I picked that up and began reading that again for the millionth time.

Clearly, I have waay too many books swirling around. I place the blame for this book insanity love squarely on the shoulders of my parents.

I know I've mentioned before that my mom and dad have an amazing collection of books. In fact, I feel extremely covetous when I think about some of the cool books they have. Last time I was home, I about died because my mom gave me a gigantic coffee table book I've been in love with since I was a little girl. It's called "Four Fabulous Faces".

The book's about the transformation of Greta Garbo, Gloria Swanson, Marlene Dietrich and Joan Crawford from unknown actresses to mega stars. The photographs in it are amazing and it's fascinating to read about how much power studios had over the appearance of these four women and how their looks changed over the years.

Anyway, I commented on another blog today about how I first read the "Autobiography of Malcolm X" when I was quite young because the book was just sitting around the house. I think it was stacked on a chair in my parent's bedroom. They always have had the best books just sitting around. In fact, I would not be surprised if they have 2-3,000 books waiting to be discovered by an avid reader.

So you see how growing up this way, I think it's normal to have tons of books around. In fact, I've been absolutely horrified on the occasions I've gone to people's homes and have been unable to find a single book lying about. Or what's just as bad is when the books someone has are the ones they bought eons ago for a college literature class. Those books always look so lonely collecting dust on a forgotten shelf.

It's quite judgemental of me but I tend to think it really says something terrible about a person if they have no (or almost no) books around. At a minimum, I believe it means they have no class no matter how fancy their house or car may be. I also start to wonder if the person's secretly a serial killer or in need of serious psychiatric help.

Just kidding, sort of.

The other day I'd just read about Bill O'Reilly's comment about lynching Michelle Obama and felt so mad about it. I called my mom to ask about a book I remember being in our house. She wasn't home so I left her a very vague, rambling message about this book. I knew it contained some very graphic pictures of lynchings in it. I told her I remembered it was soft cover and I described the size.

My mom sent me the following email yesterday:

Dear Liz,
The book you are probably thinking of is The Black Book by Middleton Harris published in 1974. The book was about more than lynching as you may remember. It is a folk history. There are now more books specifically about lynching. Without Sanctuary by James Allen and Lynching Photographs by Dora Apel are just a couple.

My mom's a genius to be able to decipher my message and figure out what in the world I was talking about. I'm sure she knew what book I was referring to off the top of her head. I'm doubly impressed by how she's able to throw out a couple more must-read titles just like that.

I decided to check out how much it would be to get my own copy of "The Black Book". It's out of print so if I want a version that's full of rips and is taped up, I'll pay around $45.

If I want one that's not in mint condition but doesn't have ripped pages and scotch tape on it, I'll pay around $85.

A nice copy is around $125. EEK!

I may not get that particular one but I know I'll be getting some version of this book eventually. I need to have it sitting around for my sons to discover. And maybe one day they'll have a blog and blame me for them being in love with books too.

I really hope so.

“It’s 2008. We will vote.”

While the mainstream media is all in a tizzy over what John McCain may or may not have done (Do you have pictures? Video? A stained dress?) with a lobbyist, I came across some real news over on Black America Web:

"Over 2,000 March at Prairie View, a Reminder of Young Voters’ Engagement in ‘08 Election

Date: Wednesday, February 20, 2008
By: BlackAmericaWeb.com

A huge banner carried Tuesday by Prairie View A&M University students at the head of a march to the Waller County Courthouse said it all: “It’s 2008. We will vote.”

The Prairie View students, hundreds of them, waited for hours in line to vote after walking seven miles from campus to the county seat. Students say they wanted to protest changes the county recently made in early polling locations and show officials the impact of their political participation.

The unofficial crowd estimate was 2,200, said Prairie View Student Government Association President Andre Evans. He said about 3,000 Prairie view students in total are registered to vote.

Waller County had reduced the number of early voting locations from about six around the county to only one at its courthouse because county officials said they could not afford to operate multiple early voting locations.

After getting pressure from federal government, the county added three early voting locations, still there was not one announced for the Prairie View campus, convenient to students. An early voting site will be open this weekend at a community center in Prairie View.

The activism demonstrated by the Prairie View students is yet another example of trends observers across the country are noting as more people between the ages of 18 and 30 register to vote and take roles in political campaigns."

Wow. And then, to get even better, I was visiting some new blogs, stopped by ReadingWritingLiving and came across some video of them marching.



I had tears streaming down my face watching this. Hey, New York Times, MSNBC and CNN, this is real news. Fox News, why don't you have Bill O'Reilly talk about how students at a historically black college are standing up to the voting discrimination that's persisted for years? It must be easier to have him talk about he doesn't, "want to go on a lynching party against Michelle Obama unless there's evidence."

Yes, these students marched 7.3 miles to vote. This is not a passive generation that's coming up and I'm so happy to see them claiming what's rightfully theirs, by any means necessary.

Our Acceptance of the Code

Unless you live under a rock, you know that Barack Obama won three primaries last night.

I watched the election results for quite a while, listened to him give another inspiring speech, and then watched all the talking heads discuss his win, and thus, Hillary Clinton's loss.

As I watched the pundits, I found myself stepping back and listening to what they were saying. Code words were flying back and forth as they discussed Obama and Clinton's election chances. Before I knew it, I developed an unease that followed me into the wee hours of a sleepless night.

Was it only a week ago that I complained about a woman assuming that I was voting for Obama? Indeed, it was fun playing a prank on her by telling her I voted for Ron Paul. But unfortunately, the assumption that people are voting according to race continues to be made on a wide scale basis.

We get so used to hearing and reading statements like, "Obama won (Pick a State) because the black vote turned out in record numbers."

This sort of thing continues to be said by reporters and Clinton spokespeople alike. It doesn't seem to matter that Obama has won in a whole host of states where there's like two black people total in residence. More than two black folks in Maine and Idaho you say? Okay, three. I'll give you three tops.

And what about the states with more than three black people in residence? Well for them, we get to hear how, "The Obama camp is celebrating last night's decisive win, a victory boosted by (Pick a State's) sizeable black population."

It doesn't matter if 60% of non-black folks voted for Barack. If a bunch of black folks voted for him, he only won because of that. Heck, if only one black person voted for him, that vote just tipped the scales!

I don't believe in voting by looking at a person's color. In my world, woting decisions should be made in a thoughtful and humble manner because we're accountable to the greater good for our decisions. If you think about it, voting is an incredibly sacred responsibility and as such, voters should take the time to independently investigate each candidates stance on issues, their voting record and their character. You should know why you want to vote for someone, and it shouldn't be because of some blogger's opinion or a politician's endorsement. It shouldn't be because Oprah and Rush Limbaugh told you to vote (or not to vote) for a candidate. And it sure shouldn't be solely because of the color of their skin.

I recently commented on another blog that there are lots of black folks I have nothing in common with and share no values with. I'm not voting for 50 Cent or P. Diddy if they run for office. Even if L'il Kim finds God and repents for subjecting our eyes to her myriad plastic surgeries, if she decides to run for Los Angeles City Council, guess what? I'm not voting for her!

Celebrities aside, there are also plenty of black politicians you couldn't pay me to support either. Remember Marion Barry smoking crack in the hotel room? Put away the CIA setup theories for a second because regardless, I wouldn't have voted for him for mayor a second time. Heck, I might not have voted for him the first time and I'm confused as to how he's in office right now!

That being said, I, and every other black person, should have the luxury everybody else does to follow a candidate for the most ridiculous reasons ever. If I tell you I'm voting for Hillary simply because I like her blue power suit, so be it. If I like McCain's comb over, so what? Who could possibly not like that comb over! If I'm voting for Obama because I really just want to see his wife in the White House as a fly First Lady, fine, I should have that right!

And once Michelle Barack gets elected, I'm going to send emails begging her to flip the script, get rid of that straight hair and get a big afro to scare America!

Just kidding. I think.

It just seems like black people have to come up with incredibly articulate, issue-focused reasons to vote for Obama and nobody else is being required to do so.

That's especially annoying since only a few months ago, Barack was supposedly struggling to be seen as black enough. Remember Tavis Smiley's "State of the Black Union" last year? If you didn't see it, count your blessings because you missed out on the whole, "All skin is not kin!" comment.
Yeah, until a few months ago, black people were supposedly standing around saying, "Barack's not really black. He's mixed and his momma's white. Vote for Clinton because her husband really is black."

In the meantime, it's OK for other groups of people to vote for Hillary Clinton precisely because she's white.

We get used to hearing coded language like, "Clinton is counting on the sizeable Latino vote to turn out in Texas and push her ahead." This translates into, "We believe Latinos are a homogeneous group of racist folks who won't vote for a black man."

That's alright according to the Clinton campaign if that gets their candidate elected and it's just fine with all the talking heads, too. How do I know this? Because I don't hear anything coming from either the Clinton campaign or from the TV and newspaper pundits unequivocably saying this sort of thing is not the way our country should be. Instead, if our nation's racial sicknesses help a campaign, that's just the way things are.

In fact, I don't hear any campaign loudly saying, "If you are only voting for me because I'm white or black, don't vote for me. Vote for me because you believe I'm a leader and you respect my stance on the issues."

Have you heard that said? Check me if I'm wrong and somehow missed that in all of the pundit and campaign spokesperson upchuck.

I also don't hear these folks talking about how the mere fact that we regularly break down candidates' votes along racial lines proves that we are not in the post-racial existence we'd like to sometimes think we are. I mean, every news show analyzes votes according to how whites, blacks, and Latinos voted.

Actually, I'm starting to wonder why we never get to hear how Asians vote. California has the largest Asian population in the United States and we didn't hear about their super Tuesday vote. What's up with that? C'mon, pundits, don't leave Asian people out of the insanity. They might feel left out!

There's that old saying that sometimes if you stand too close to the wall you can't see the whole picture. Well, when I step back from the speeches, the analysis, the blogs and the newspaper articles, I can't help but think about how the way we discuss the candidates, voting and our electoral process is inherently corrupt. And the icing on the campaign cake is how steeped we all are in the sickness of racism.

We take it in, tune it out, regurgitate it without thinking and slowly accept it as reality. We become numb to it and feel crazy if we think about it too much. It's like we're living in the Matrix.

How do we break free?

I'm a Black History Month Slacker

It's February 4th and I've done absolutely nothing to commemorate Black History Month. Yes, it's true. I'm a Black History Month Slacker.

I haven't read my kids any books about the usual people who's lives are unshelved during Black History Month: Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., Rosa Parks, Harriet Tubman, George Washington Carver and Booker T. Washington. Oh and let's not forget Frederick Douglass.

I haven't even read them any books about my personal favorite, Ida B. Wells. I've always thought she was truly bad-ass because she did so much anti-lynching work that she had to carry two pistols to protect herself. I mean, look at that picture! She's not playing around!

What else? I haven't been over to the California African American Museum. I haven't been over to Ancestry.com to dig up some of my illustrious ancestors.

I've worn a lot of black clothing so far. But that's every month so that's nothing special. It does have me reminiscing a little about how in the early '90s, conscious black folks began wearing little leather medallions of Africa. They started wearing red, black and green and explained that red was for the blood, black for the people and green for the land of Africa.

The movie Malcolm X came out and all of the sudden, it became trendy to wear an X on your shirt or hat. It became cool to wear an X hat and the little leather Africa necklace. It was the thing to listen to X-Clan and Public Enemy. And then Puff Daddy destroyed it all! Two steps forward, one step back...

Anyway, when I was a school teacher, we always had a Black History Month school assembly and I'd make the kids do various research projects on historical figures. But I believe that history isn't something that only happened 100 years ago. I believe we live history. So I'd talk about amazing black folks that were alive in the present, folks that they knew, like my principal, like the secretaries at the school, like their pastor. We'd talk about what those people did that was significant and special in their every day lives. I just wanted the kids to understand that everyday people change things too.

Do corporations have Black History Month observances? I've only ever worked for non-profits and trust me, no one ever hung up a poster that said, "We appreciate our black employees". So I can't imagine corporations do much.

Not to say that corporations do nothing. Corporations will advertise to black folks with their special Black History Month spreads. You know the type: "In honor of all your ancestors have sacrificed, drink this malt liquor!" Or how about the ones that say, "Because we want you to be black and proud, relax your hair with our all natural African ingredients."

Yeah, I'm definitely a slacker. All I did this weekend was watch "Star Wars", "The Empire Strikes Back" and "Return of the Jedi". Then again, I got to listen to James Earl Jones voicing Darth Vader. And Billy Dee Williams as Lando Calrissian was smokin' hot.

They both count as black history makers, don't they? I mean, black folks got cast in Star Wars!

Hmm...wouldn't it have been something if in "Return of the Jedi" when Luke takes off Vader's helmet at the end, instead of the pasty white guy, his daddy is James Earl Jones?

I can hear it now, "Luke, Obi Wan did not know how to tell you. My son, you're half black! That is why the force is so strong within you!"

That would have been a real controversy! Just think, Barack Obama could have given Luke tips on having a white mom and a black dad.

I know, I'm crazy to think such a plot line would ever have been written into Star Wars. So I'll ask you, what do you do for Black History Month? Or are you a slacker like me?

The Myth of "Pure" Whiteness

Have you ever thought you might not be who you think you are?

For example, maybe your curly hair isn't from a "Jewish" grandmother? Or maybe your skin that tans so easily isn't really from Sicilian heritage? Could it be that you're really not related to some Spanish Moors despite what your mama done told ya? Could it be that you actually have some, God forbid, African ancestry?

Go look in the mirror. Look at your lips, at your nose, at your hair. Are you thinking what I'm thinking? 'Cause I'm thinking you're part black!

To confirm this, maybe we should do a little digging into your storied ancestral past.

Oh my goodness! It seems that some folks back in the day suspected your granny was maybe part Negro!

Yes, America, if we dig up even ONE black relative, whether that's your grandma, grandpa, a great-grandpa, or even great-great-great-great grandma, guess what, party people, you're black! It doesn't matter if you've been living your entire life wearing Peggy McIntosh's invisible knapsack of white privilege. Nope, now we've got you! You're black and you'd better acknowledge your blackness or else we're going to stone you in Ebony and Jet like we did Mariah Carey back in the early '90s when she went around claiming she was Venezuelan, Irish and a bunch of other stuff, instead of just saying she was black.

Get used to the idea that you are going to have to check all those other ethnicities that make up your DNA at the door. Who cares if identity is a fluid construct! That one drop of black blood is mighty powerful! It's so strong that it's going to trump everything else.

In case you're worried about what this means for you, we have some new perks coming your way. Your "I'm Black So Racial Profile Me" card is arriving in your mailbox tomorrow. Dancing lessons are on their way to you so that you can learn how to get crunk -- because you know every "real" black person knows how to dance, right?

We can also get you in touch with the Holy Ghost at a black church this Sunday so that you're getting the "real" black religious experience. Oh, you've also been signed up for soul food cooking class because all "real" black folks make greens and cornbread for dinner every Sunday after church.

Okay, okay. I can see you're crying now. You'd better stop that or else I might have to also label you as a tragic mulatto. You definitely don't want that to happen because now that you're black, you should know one thing about black people: they don't like tragic mulattoes.

Sure, keep on insisting you're a half Russian Jew like Dinah Shore. Whatever. I'm not buying your lies anymore. In fact, I think the real reason Dog Chapman didn't want his son hooking up with a black woman is that Dog's actually secretly black.

What? You thought that was just a really dark tan or really extensive sun damage on Dog Chapman? Puh-leeze! He should have come clean and told the media he's black because then he could have gotten a pass on using the n-word in reference to the woman.

Blame a woman named Bliss Broyard for my eyes being opened about how white folks aren't as pure white as they claim. Yes, thanks to her, I'm now looking at everyone as suspect.

Even George Bush could be a possible "You're Really Black" candidate. And you thought he just got Condi and Colin Powell into those roles because they were the most qualified. Hah! Bush was merely doing what black people do: hooking up his people!

Now that white America's big secret was exposed by Bliss on the Today Show this past Monday when she was talking about her book, "One Drop", our racial classification system has been turned on it's ear. Bliss wrote about her family and her father, Anatole Broyard. Yes, you guessed it. Bliss didn't know that her daddy was part black. It seems that Pops was passin' for white! He had tons of relatives that were of French and Spanish descent. But, he also had relatives that were of African descent. And, oops, he conveniently forgot about them so he could get ahead in his literary career in New York City.

Turns out, her Scandinavian mother knew about her husband's black heritage, but only revealed this secret to Bliss right before her father passed away. And, as Bliss explains here, her mom went and consulted a priest when she first found out she was married to a man with black ancestry. Wowzer.



All sarcasm aside, I'm sure this sort of thing is more common than we all realize. It's sad that her father felt that he had to abandon his relatives in order to make it in America. Why'd he do that? Hmm....could it be that he didn't want to feel racism anymore? I mean, gosh, Arthur Ashe died of AIDS but he still said, "Race has always been my biggest burden."

Maybe her dad wanted to get away from that. Besides, what if her father was actually genetically more French instead African? Could he have then said that he was French? And is that the point anyway, to create some sort of system that operates on percentages? Oh wait, that's sort of what the one drop rule is, right? Except that it's if you have any percentage of black blood, you're black.

Let's face it, most black people in America have white ancestry. We're all "mixed". So, logically, we'd have to be idiots to assume most white people are just "pure white" (whatever that means) without even one drop of "black blood".

To be crystal clear, I think being black is a wonderful thing. It's not something to be ashamed off. But the rest of the world clearly doesn't agree. It was SO telling how when Bliss was on the Today Show, Natalie Morales actually said about Bliss finding out about her father's heritage, "Was it just a complete blow to your identity?"


Her father hid his black heritage

If you're not black, would it be a complete blow to your identity if you found out that one of your ancestors was black? And if you did find this out, would you then start telling people that you are black?

Why do we insist on believing there's such a thing as being pure white? And why do we cling to this idea of one drop of black blood makes a person black?

You Said It First! Who Said It First?

Ah, Don Imus.

I saw him on the Today show yesterday and wowzer, I have no idea how old he is, but the man looks like he's got one foot in the grave. No wonder he sticks to radio instead of TV. Don't you think he could use more than a two week vacation? I really think his bosses should do him a favor and make it a permanent vacation. It just seems like doing his show is taking way too much of a toll on what must have been, at one time, some spectacularly good looks.

Ok, I'll stop being sarcastic. Or, at least I'll try. It's just that with all the discussion about "The Don Imus Issue", I keep hearing a few things that have got me thinking beyond Don Imus.

First, I've heard a couple of folks share the idea that calling black women "nappy-headed hos" originated in the black community. We started it, rap music started it...and so folks can't be mad if Don Imus says it. It's a double standard!

Hmm. I don't know if black people and rap music really started the use of this terminology. Sure, it's internalized now, and some of us do use that language, but I don't think we started it.

I was commenting on someone else's blog that there are plenty of black people that dance at parties and bump in their rides to tunes like the currently popular Fat Joe and L'il Wayne song "Make it Rain". Yes, that song, like so many others, prominently features the word "hos" and features a video where guys are throwing money on black and Latina women who are busily gyrating like strippers. But if the Pussycat Dolls gyrate like strippers, they get a TV show and get called superstars. What???

Anyway, I digress.

YES, Snoop, 50 Cent, Jay-Z and all the rest quite frequently use the n-word, call folks bitches, and hos and regularly feature the aforementioned scantily clad black and Latina women in their videos. My question is, who's paying these rappers to make records like that?

Jay-Z may be head of Def Jam records but, hello, Def Jam is not black-owned. It's owned by Universal Music Group...which is owned by French-run conglomerate Vivendi. And who's the CEO of Vivendi? A guy named Jean-René Fourtou.

Now, imagine if Jean-René were to suddenly call up Jay-Z and say, "Look Jay, you're a really talented rapper, but you need to write rhymes that are not sexist or racist, or else I'm going to drop you from our label."

Can you imagine that? Yeah, I can't either. Reason being, 70% of rap records are bought by white people, primarily by the 18-24 male demograpic. Those young white males have a whole lot of disposable income, and so the records get made, because certainly, Jean-René probably has a place along the Seine to pay for.

I've heard some people say that black people don't complain about rappers so it's not fair that we complain about Imus. Um, that's just not true. The very same black people who've been upset about 50 Cent, Snoop and Jay-Z calling black women ho's are upset now. The problem is that mainstream media hasn't given those prior complaints any coverage.

Some of you all may not know about the infamous Nelly song "Tip Drill". If you don't, good for you that you were spared exposure to an incredibly lewd and lascivious song with an even more sexually explicit video. (Don't ask me how I saw it...my inability to turn away from train-wrecks is another issue.)

Now, in this video, Nelly swipes a credit card between the shaking butt cheeks of a light-skinned black woman wearing only a barely-there thong. It was disgusting. Absolutely horrifyingly sexist and racist on so many levels. But, was the New York Times or the Washington Post calling for Nelly's firing from his record company? Nope. Instead, it was the black women of Spelman College that led the charge against the song and protested Nelly's potential participation in a leukemia fundraiser at the school.

I also didn't hear any record company executives complaining about Nelly. In fact, I didn't hear anyone in the mainstream media complaining at all. It was further proof that when it comes this stuff, it doesn't really matter if black people complain about being called bitches and hos because we aren't the ones buying the songs. So, who cares what we think! This is also why Imus is probably only going to get a two-week vacation instead of a permanent one...sure, it's a hot story now, but after all, and I could be wrong here, I don't think many black folks listen to Imus. Again, it's that white male demograpic/dollar that advertisers want and Imus draws them in.

I also find myself thinking how none of the aforementioned rappers feature nappy-haired women. Their videos deal almost exclusively with black women who wear weaves. So, nappy hair...yeah, I remember being 8 or 9 and one of my aunts was trying to brush my hair. She smacked me on the head with the brush and started complaining, "You have the nappiest hair of any mixed girl on earth! What is wrong with you?"

Sure, my aunt said the word waaay before Don Imus did, and she used it in a negative way, but the thing is, who invented the word? I'm sure African's back in the day didn't sit around and say, "Girl, your hair is sooo nappy! You need to get your relaxer touched up!"

I also find myself having a hard time believing that the first black people off of slave ships just decided to started calling each other nappy-headed ho's without hearing someone else calling them that first...someone who owned them and told them they weren't fully human. (Wonder who that could be?)

Generations later, someone taught my aunt, and every other black woman born in the Western Hemisphere, to think that our hair is unattractive in it's natural state. As much as some folks want to, thankfully, advocate for a return to "natural hair" in this country, and as much as there are books like Nappy Hair, it's still an insult in the black community to say that someone's hair is nappy.

So, is there a double standard? Maybe in some ways there is, but I think our issues are more complex than just simply saying, "Well, black people, you did it first so don't get mad!" We have to go beyond that surface level argument and be prepared to talk about why we do and say the things we do. If we don't know the root cause, we can never cure the disease.

And, like any good school teacher should tell kids that say, "He hit me first!", it doesn't matter who did it first, if you did it too, well then, you're both wrong.

Heritage

I'm back home in Los Angeles but I haven't yet given up on the New Orleans spirit. I came home and rocked my green and white beads all day Saturday in honor of St. Patrick's Day. My little boys were happy to wear some beads too. My husband refused.

"Oh, that's ok. I'm not Irish," he said.

Technically, I'm not Irish either. I'm half Irish-American.

It's funny though, I have a whole lot of pride about that Irish heritage. Some people might think it's because I'm trying to identify more with the white side of my heritage instead of the black side. I think it's more that I don't know a whole lot about my black ancestry. With the Irish side, I know what boat my ancestors took over here, what year they got here, where they settled, what their names were.

Do I know any of that about the black side of my family? Nope. I couldn't tell you what slave ship carried them, what country they came from (because Africa is a continent, not a country), what plantations they worked on, what they did during Reconstruction...none of it. My black family history begins with my grandmother's father, a man named Green Walker. I should know more than that.

I've always wanted to be one of those folks that take the time to research their family genealogy. One of these days, I'm going to do it. I want to know it all.

Black Celebration...Sort Of

You ever catch one of your "mixed" friends having a bad day? You know, your friend, the kid with one black parent and one white parent, slumped on the floor, sobbing into the edge of the bedspread, "All the black kids tease me because I'm mixed and all the white kids hate me because I'm black! I have no friends!"

Even if you don't realize your half white/half black friends have done that, they have. You just may not have been privy to that particular sob-fest. They were probably just doing what I call "one drop rule" math...

black mom + white dad = black child

white mom + black dad = black child

If you genuinely don't have any "mixed" friends to talk with about this math, go find some. We're everywhere these days. In the meantime, I'll share a bit of my experience with you.

Yes, growing up the white kids called me nigger and told me I was ugly. The black kids, well, black people in this country are trained to love them some light skin (seen any darker women in hip-hop videos lately? Ever?) so they wouldn't call me ugly. But, the meaner ones would call me "oreo". I'm assuming you know why the white kids would call me what they did, but I realize you may not be privy to the whole oreo lexicon.

Observe the photo. An oreo is black on the outside...and white on the inside. How could I be white on the inside, you ask?

Well, unfortunately, black kids in this country are trained to believe that doing well in school and being whip smart is "acting white". I was a big nerd. Nerdy enough to skip a grade in school. Nerdy enough to take the SAT in 7th grade and get a 1320. Plus, there were almost never any black students in any of my classes. Schools have this culture where academics=whiteness. You think back to your own honors and AP classes. How many black students were there in there? Not too many and I hope you don't think that's because of some inherent lack of ability. If you do, feel free to come to work with me to see what I see every single day. I get to see how black students aren't put on the college bound, AP track in school. Believe me, they are put on the step-n-fetchit track...and it's now my job to make sure they are taken off it.

To enhance the "mixed-girl" nerdiness, my parents were also super strict and never let me out of the house. I'm not kidding. Once school let out, no one saw me all summer. I spent my summers pulling weeds in our backyard and reading 700 page novels in one sitting. The summer between my junior and senior year in high school, I decided to read a book a day, just to see if I could. I read Dracula once a week for years. You've read Dracula before, sure. But 217 times? Yes, not only was I "mixed" but I was also pretty darn weird.

To foster my ascendancy from merely a "weird mixed girl" to an "ultra weird mixed girl", let's not forget the icing on the cake: house music and Depeche Mode. Every other black kid was drooling over Prince, New Edition, Janet Jackson, Michael Jackson (before he tried to purposefully turn himself into the weird mixed kid) and Ready For The World. Not me. I was staying up all night listening to the Hot Mix 5 on WBMX and dreaming of marrying my favorite house DJ, Julian Jumpin' Perez.

I was busy scribbling Depeche Mode lyrics into my notebooks and was actually dumb enough to ask other black kids if they listened to them. "To who?" was the usual response. To give folks credit, 75% the white kids I knew only listened to hair metal bands like Def Leppard and didn't know who Depeche Mode was either. High school was tough. Like you, it wasn't till I left home for college, that I finally felt like I met people who were my friends despite all my weird quirks. Even though there were those who still called me an oreo every once in awhile, it was all good because I was having a whole lot of fun in life.

You'd think these issues of identity and feeling like the weird oreo mixed girl would evaporate now that I'm a grown woman, right? Yeah, I thought that too. But, last night, I had this dream where I decided to invite a black woman I like but who I don't know super well to my birthday party, happening next Friday. The conversation in the dream went something like this:

Liz: Yeah, I'm so excited about my party next Friday. I hope you can come.

Anonymous Black Woman: Oh. Where are you having it?

L: At my apartment. It's going to be a Depeche Mode themed party. I'm calling it "Black Celebration" after their fifth album.

ABW: Who?

L (oblivious to ABW's confusion and thinking she just can't hear me due to poor cell phone reception): Depeche Mode. So, everyone has to wear black but eyeliner on men is completely optional.

The response was silence.

Then, in the dream, all those feelings I thought I'd left behind came rushing to the forefront. I started to wonder if ABW was thinking, "Yep, Liz is a really still a weird mixed girl and I don't know if I want to be down with this." I started to explain that Depeche Mode's songwriter and sometime singer, Martin Gore, has a black father. "So, Depeche Mode, they're kinda black, you know." I start to elaborate on how I am working to close the education achievement gap. I remember saying, "Hey my husband is black and I have black kids." So please love me for being black, right?

None of it mattered. I still got called that name in the dream. ABW said it loudly, like it was on a world-wide intercom, "I knew it, you are an OREO!!! You aren't really black!"

Obviously, sticks and stones and all that. I know I'm not an oreo. I've always tried to avoid living my life ruled by our society's arbitrary meters of blackness or of whiteness. But I am left with a question. What does the dream mean and have I secretly been over-compensating in certain areas of my life for maybe not feeling quite black enough?