Friday, July 10, 2009

Incidents at swimming pools…

June 21, 1949 was the first day black people were allowed in St. Louis municipal swimming pools.

As reported by the St. Louis Post Dispatch on the 60th anniversary, the decision to integrate St. Louis municipal swimming pools sparked the most widespread racial violence in the city’s post WWII history.

Rampaging youth and adults roamed Fairground Park wielding knives and bats and attacking as they wished, when they wished and because they wished.

It took over 400 police officers 12 hours to restore “order”.

The pool riot jump started the movement for racial justice in the city that still works today…because racism still exists today (just read some of the comments to the Post’s article)...because there are still people who think black people are inferior and that they should be able to avoid us and the dangers we bring.

I’ve always found that curious…that the ig’nant point to concerns that our children will change the environment of a place even as their public displays of racism lower the standards of the place they say they are so concerned about maintaining standards at.

Pause...allow to marinate...continue.

Because roaming a public park with bats and knives and beating the shit out of children, women and men while crying out that y’all are doing it to protect your community from black people and our anti-social behavior is pretty damned illogically fucked up.

Just like the club members in Philly clutching their children to their sides and complaining that they fear what those black kids will do to their children, steal from their children and teach to their children is ig’nantly illogical…and, in my opinion, verbally abusive to the children of color and the white children who overheard that evil ig'nant shit.

But fueling the ig'nance is the public perception that black people are dangerous violent fiends bent on getting our freak on wherever we go. Even now some knavish troll is typing a comment defending that opinion…as if I am not black, as if I don’t know what black people are like, as if I have not experienced racism that had nothing to do with me opening up a can of whoop ass up in a public place (never, though I have been tempted)…as if their knavish ass needs to help me understand that the black America I know isn’t the real black America but some separate exception to the rule that has confused my fragile little mind.

When I turn on the television I rarely see black America…I see what the media defines as black America. That’s not to say we don’t have problems…obviously we're not the only ones…but day camp kids in a summer youth program trying to have fun isn’t one of them.

Sigh.

I grew up in St. Louis…in a city where a riot broke out in the 1940’s because they tried to integrate the municipal pools.

And when I went to a pretty public pool in St. Louis county in the 1980’s I watched as parents clutched their children to their sides and whispered instructions on how to avoid me in their ear…I listened as one parent told another “Great, now they’re living out here! There goes our property value.” I hurt as one asshole kid approached me and told me to go to the black people pool…to get out before I stank up the place. And, when I told my mother, I watched tears of disgust and frustration well in her eyes…that not a damn thing had changed but the date and that her children should experience America’s most consistent national product – hate.

Now we have Philly
and a two part incident of racism – part one being the comments made by club members, loud as hell because we all know that they were really hoping to upset the kids enough that they would voluntarily not come back and part two being the club’s initial statement.

The thing is that the club president was right – the black and Latino children came to the pool to have fun and play and, judging from the members' reactions, that might not be the reason folks go to that club pool or are members of that club.

Even as I find comfort in the news that other clubs like the Jewish Community Center (yay!) have invited the summer camp kids to come on over and play I can’t help but feel sorry for the children of the people at the club at the center of this controversy and for the community they will one day build having been raised by ig'nant assholes (shudder).

Lawd, have mercy...

Thursday, July 09, 2009

Pause, reflect and refocus…

Let’s jump in, shall we?

A bitch has been reflecting.

Mmmhmm, I’m a big fan of inner-work and often pause to examine what the hell I’m doing and why.

Reflecting is a sometimes disturbing other times inspiring and often frustrating experience. It usually exposes some fucked up from the floor up cases of bullshitting myself and more than one instance of allowing fear to guide my actions.

Shit, a bitch is nothing if not a human bitch (wink).

But, despite the disturbitude reflection causes, this bitch does it on a regular basis because it is a necessary part of refocusing and keeping my eyes on the prize.

Sigh.

I’ve spent the past month reflecting on my life.

On this blog.

On my writing in general.

On my relationships.

On my career and activism.

And on whether all these things point toward my personal mission.

Yeah, a bitch got heavy on my own damn self…made my own Afro hurt more than once…and came up with some changes while deciding to keep other shit the same.

My blog is my outlet and the source of my online activism. This bitch is an activist who blogs and I think I lost sight of that in recent months. I’ve struggled to fit my volunteer work in rather than the other way around. No, I’m not quitting…this blog is still a hell of a lot cheaper than therapy and I fucking enjoy it! But I am refocusing on my offline work because it fuels my soul. You probably won’t notice a change, but I will and that’s important.

A bitch has been neglecting my other writing…my book and other journalism. Spinning in circles while not doing anything all that well is a dizzying and annoying state of being…so again, a refocus is in the works. This you hopefully will notice since I hope to get my book published!

As for my relationships…my family and friends…I’m forgiving myself for phoning it in and feeling sometimes overwhelmed. I want to be the best sister possible and the kind of friend I need others to be in my life...and my quest for perfection has led to inner turmoil and stress. For that I apologize to myself and to anyone in my circle who has had cause to wonder what the fuck is wrong with me! I love all y’all and you know who you are…more than cold fried chicken and chocolate cake at 3 o’clock in the morning! I promise to lead with love more.

Finally, my career and activism. I adore my work…that which pays the bills and puts kibble in my dawgs dinner bowls and that which fuels my soul and allows me to practice the fine art of bitchitude in my community. ‘Tis a blessing to be able to say that I truly enjoy what I do and I’m refocusing on that gift now.

So, does all that shit assist me in working my personal mission in life?

Pause…reflect…continue.

Yes.

Oh, hell yes.

And seeing the truth of that…knowing the truth of that…has made all this Afro taxing inner work based reflection worth it.

Thanks for allowing a bitch to share.

Viva la bitchitude!

Wednesday, July 08, 2009

Pondering the All-Star clean-up…

A bitch caught a rebroadcast of the Michael Jackson Memorial on the telly last night. I found it to be a very well put together memorial and was particularly touched by Stevie Wonder’s performance and Brooke Shields’ speech…to hear Stevie mourn Michael Jackson’s passing in song was beyond moving and Shields reminded everyone that there was a person behind the image who lived a life outside of the spot light that we never knew about.

Moving forward…

My home city of St. Louis Missouri is preparing to host Major League Baseball’s All Star Game. This bitch used to be a huge Cardinal baseball fan, but the game has changed and I found myself turned off by the casual acceptance of chemical assistance. And then there are the expensive as hell and curiously funded stadium deals that result in expensive as hell and strangely posh stadiums that put attending a professional baseball game out of reach for this bitch…big time.

I haven’t watched a game in years.

Now baseball is coming to town in the form of the All Star Game.

City officials have taken to the news to get their brag on about the power washed streets and sidewalks…the broken windows that have been replaced…the fresh coats of paint on many a building…banners and streamers and fresh flowers and grass…and, last but not least, the clean-up along highway 70 involving long overdue trash pick up and mowing.

On one hand it feels much like what goes on in the House of Bitchitude when we’re going to have company. We clean and fix shit, wash and brush the dawgs and put out the decent silverware.

On the other hand, a bitch is rather surprised that the city even noticed all the areas they are now targeting with amazing accuracy. I almost hoped that all those broken windows in all the abandoned buildings were there because the right people weren’t aware of them…that the layers of filth on the street had not been attended to because most folks don’t walk around downtown St. Louis to notice…and that the trash and neck high weed/grass lining highway 70 was the result of the bad economy coupled with no one wanting to take responsibility.

But a bitch was wrong!

No way in hell my ass was right because St. Louis city got their clean on too swiftly with too much accuracy…much like this bitch does when someone says they’re going to drop by the house. Oh, I could bullshit myself and pretend that last night’s dinner plate only became visible after I hung up the phone or the dawgs didn’t smell houndish until after I asked a guest to visit…but why bullshit my own damn self?

I knew that shit was there but I don’t want other people to know that shit is there.

A bitch suspects that the same shit is going on with St. Louis city and I’d like to suggest to city planners what I often suggest to myself after I clean the hell out of the house and then survey the enjoyable neatness with guests – mayhap we should try this clean-up fix-up bitness more often and for our own damn selves?

Blink.

***cue baseball tossing crickets***

Tuesday, July 07, 2009

Pondering the death of Robert McNamara…

Shall we?

Robert McNamara died yesterday at the age of 93.

When I remarked upon his passing to an acquaintance he asked who Robert McNamara was (wince). After I explained that he was the architect of the Vietnam War and his fingerprints are on multiple policy decisions that still impact our world, the acquaintance seemed confused then said, “I thought LBJ was the architect of the Vietnam War.”

Sigh.

A bitch is a history buff and one of my favorite periods to study is post World War II through the 1970’s. Robert McNamara’s name pops up all over the place because the man was all over the damn place. But what sets McNamara apart is that he reflected on his life and how he was all over the damn place and involved in all manner of shit in both a book and the award winning documentary The Fog of War: Eleven Lessons fro the Life of Robert S. McNamara. In the documentary McNamara was both cagey and stunningly honest, manipulative and open…unrepentant and confessional…stunning, to say the least.

I highly recommend viewing The Fog of War just as I highly recommend studying history through as many sources as possible.

McNamara died at the age of 93...58,261 American soldiers and over 3 million Vietnamese soldiers and civilians were not so blessed as a result of his work.

And examination of McNamara offers a look at how certainty, ego and secrecy can result in policy that is fubar from the start…

…it also offers an opportunity to reflect on the limits of apology, the wages of war and the sad lack of accountability that eats at those who benefit from it even as it eats at those who object to it.

When I walked along The Wall and the cold stone grew taller and taller with name after name, person after person, friend after friend, son after son, father after father a shudder passed through me and I wondered how one could atone for such death and destruction…and I looked away as a woman wept softly while touching, barely making contact and oh so lightly caressing one name listed among the thousands.

And it is that moment that I think of now...those names and the millions of nameless Vietnamese that I think of now.

May they rest in peace.

And may we work to learn from the lesson of Robert McNamara...

Monday, July 06, 2009

Pondering the HBO documentary Shouting Fire: Stories from the edge of Free Speech…

Happy Monday, y’all!

A bitch woke up at dawn…I’m on my second cup of coffee…and I sincerely hope that shit kicks in soon.

Shall we?

This weekend I watched the HBO documentary Shouting Fire: Stories from the edge of Free Speech and it was beyond thought inspiring. As someone who writes an opinionated blog I’ve certainly experienced the backlash of speaking freely, but some of the stories were downright frightening! This doc is a must see regardless of your political inclinations…it goes beyond the usual “free speech is important” spin and delves into the reasons why we must protect the right to free speech, when and how those rights were defined and why even offensive speech needs to be protected.

Good stuff!

I thought about that shit for a spell and how it fits into our Independence Day celebration. It amazes me that folks can freak out and race to their local gun store on a rumor about gun control but they can’t be bothered to stand up to those who actively seek to take away their right to speak freely.

Sigh.

Anyhoo, Shouting Fire was a timely reminder about the powerful weapon of speech we each have…

…and why we need to protect the hell out of it.

Sunday, July 05, 2009

Happy birthday to my brother Bill!

My brother Bill is 39 years old today and we intend to celebrate the hell out of that!

39 years of keeping shit real…defying to odds…teaching people that there are more that a few ways to communicate…and charming soda pop out of unsuspecting victims.

39 years outside of an institution…in the community…making friends, having roommates and roommate drama and building a life.

39 years of being a damn good older brother…of forgiving me my selfishness and failings even before I forgive myself.

39 years of therapy and treatments, medications and then behavior modifications, nastified diets and strange as hell food restrictions.

39 years of people staring…of children laughing and strangers not understanding...of others knowing or just not caring…of smelling people’s hair and then asking forgiveness through that mega watt smile.

Born before autism was a 1 in 150 diagnosis or celebrities wrote best sellers…raised back when mothers were still thought to be to blame and people didn’t shy from saying that shit…reared in a world that was anything but understanding or supportive.

39 years of living life as a person…not a cure that didn’t happen or a treatment that failed to work.

And today we celebrate Bill and all that he is.

Go on with your bad ass soda pop adoring, French fry consuming, funky music enjoying self!

Go on, Bill!

And happy birthday, damn it (wink)…you are the gift that just keeps giving.

Friday, July 03, 2009

Gov. Palin’s going to step down, but everything else she said didn’t make any fucking sense.

A bitch shall leave it to the wild beast that is the media to unearth what, if any, “exotic” drama is behind this hastily announced and strategically bizarre move.

I think that the fact that both Mary Matalin and Pat Buchanan think this stepping down before the end of her first term strangeness was wise speaks volumes to just how fucked up from the floor up this shit really is.

But a bitch will hold off on the analysis until the shoe and/or shoes drop.

What I won’t hold off on is addressing the announcement itself.

What the fuck?!?

I’m as far from a Palin supporter as you can get and even this bitch was hoping that she’d pull her shit together mid speech and begin to make complete sentences that have something to do with why the hell she called everyone to her front lawn to chat!

Jesus to Gawd, woman…that basketball analogy was crazy.

CRAZY!

Hell, the whole speech was the very definition of crazy talk.

Did she talk an antihistamine on an empty stomach after drinking two bottles of horse turd whisky?

Or did she lose her mind and decide to kick the script to the curb and speak from her heart?

Whatever the cause, that televised announcement was a steaming hot mess on ice complete with random nature calls because even the wildlife was unimpressed with that shit.

Daaaaaaamn.

In related news, Ross Perot's 1992 announcement that he was leaving his campaign has now moved from the top spot of public displays of fubaristic craziness...
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