Black Friday

The Jena Six Rally may be over but I'm still dressed in black.

What can I say? Advocating for justice is an everyday thing. And black is my favorite color. In fact, I have enough black clothes that I could wear a completely different all-black outfit every day of the week. Someone put me on "Tim Gunn's Guide to Style" so I can learn how to incorporate color into my wardrobe, okay?

I also have another reason to be wearing all black: I'm possibly mourning one of the drunks down the hill.

Yes, one of my warm beer drinking "buddies" may be no more. I mean, I clearly want these drunks gone but I don't want them dead, you know?

When I walked by around 2:00 yesterday afternoon, he appeared to be passed out under his favorite tree. That in itself is nothing new. That's par for the course. However, when I drove by around 5:00, it looked like he hadn't moved. That definitely concerned me. Usually, he moves from the tree to the sidewalk, and then back to the dust that passes for grass in drought-stricken Los Angeles.

I called LAPD on my cell phone. They said it sounded like paramedics were needed and then connected me to the fire department. The Fire Department operator asked me questions like, "How old is he?"

I had no idea. I mean, it's not like I've ever stopped and engaged in conversation with this man. He's always very dirty and disheveled and his face has that hard-core alcoholic look to it. I've never felt inclined to ask, "So, how old are you? Do you prefer warm beer or whiskey?" Nope, we've never talked. I've had nothing to say in response to his slurred, "Hola, bonita!"

I told the operator that he looked older than 35 but younger than 60. I could hear the pause on the other line, like the operator was thinking, "Okaay, that's a 25 year age span. What a dummy!"

I felt distinctly unhelpful. That feeling got worse when the operator asked, "Can you walk over and check if he's breathing?"

Um, NO! I wasn't about to get that close. I'd walked by earlier on the opposite side of the street and besides I'd just seen him when I was driving by on my way to the bank.

The operator sighed, thanked me and asked for my cell number. I sort of hoped it was so he could call me back and say, "He's fine. Just a little too much Jim Beam knocked back today."

Twenty minutes later when I drove back home, the drunk was no where to be seen. One of my neighbors said they'd seen an ambulance zoom up our street with it's lights flashing and sirens blaring.

Today, the guy isn't there. His three buddies are there, but he's not. Does this mean he's been arrested for public intoxication? Does this mean he's dead? Is he in the hospital? The cops never called back to tell me anything. I'm left wondering.

I'll keep my black outfit on tonight since I'm going to see Muse out in Irvine. I definitely need a little amazing guitar playing to start off my weekend. Watching this clip of Muse playing "Stockholm Syndrome" live absolutely convinced me I had to see them. I'll tell you, the last minute of this has some of the best guitar riffing I've heard in quite awhile.



And people wonder why my youngest child wants to be a rock star...

Wearing Black, Being Black

Yes, I'll be wearing all black tomorrow: Black pants, black shirt, black umbrella if it rains, black eyeliner on my eyes...but I'll skip the black lipstick because I'm not really going for the goth look.

I'm wearing all black in support of the "Jena Six" rally that will be taking place tomorrow in Jena, Louisiana. If you haven't heard of the "Jena Six" by now, Google it and you'll get to read about yet another ridiculous example of racism in the good ole USA. I think about incidents like this every time I hear someone say that my little boys are sooo cute. Yeah, they're cute, but cute won't stop someone from trying to convict black males for some craziness.

Speaking of blackness, today as we were walking home from school, my six year-old says to me, "Mommy, I'm the only black boy in my class."

This is 100% true. One other student is Asian. Everyone else is Latino.

I asked him if someone had said something bad about his skin or hair, and he said, "No."

I told him how if anyone did, he should tell his teacher and let me know so I could whup someone's ass help solve the problem. But he only replied, "How come there aren't any other black kids in my class?"

I know how my son feels. I feel like I've been asking variations of this "why am I the only black person" question my whole life. In most school or work situations I've always been the only black person, or else there was one other black person around. And, in moments like this, as much as I love my neighborhood (despite the drunks that were back again today), I wish there were more black folks around here. Or rather, I wish there were more black folks with school age children around here. The young black hipsters are starting to migrate this way and I see them out in all their childless, boho-chicness.

Folks tell me I should move to Inglewood or Baldwin Hills where I can see black folks the minute I walk out of the door. Plus the schools have greater numbers of black children. I've been told that my child is going to have identity issues if he doesn't go to a school with more black children. That way of thinking assumes that his race should be the primary identity for him, and indeed, for many people, race is their primary identity. But we are all more than the sum of racial politics.

So, I really hope you wear black tomorrow, not just to ask for equality and justice for black folks, but to ask for justice and equality for all of us. We all deserve so much more than what passes as racial equality in this country.

We all need to raise the bar.