Hey Ya'll!

I'm feeling more comfortable driving around The Merc. Today I went out with her for the first time by myself, just went and got some groceries, and I felt like the ultimate pimp! I was blasting Metro FM (I know...), shades on, hair tied up in twists, glossy lipstick and clear skin. I was pimping! I even leaned back a couple of times and smiled to people as I drove by. It was nice.

Old Merc

My friends call it the pimpmobile.

Drive Slow, Homie

Check out Kanye's Drive Slow Remix featuring Paul Wall, GLC and T.I. Thanks, Eskay, I'd be so lost without you!

My thoughts:

1. Why they gotta keep calling girls, hos? Damn.

2. T.I. killed this song, I'd do that little man all day, everyday

3. Why is the video so dark? I can hardly see shit. The colors are nice, though.



So I guess the moral of this here, class is
life about who make it
not who make it the fastest

R.I.P. Antwon Hoyt

My cousin, Antwon Hoyt was shot and killed last Friday in San Diego. My brother sent me the article. This comes after learning that another cousin of mine, aged 17, was just arrested for gun possession. My brother, in his young wisdom sums it up for me: "This is what we go through in our family." With an aunt imprisoned indefinitely for assaulting an old woman while high, and an uncle who is in and out of the prision system, you'd think that this would be less of shock for our family. We've gone to so many funerals in the last two years it's painful. We lost a grandmother and grandfather unexpectedly within months of each other and I began to really understand what it means to get older and to say goodbye to people in my life who've meant so much to me. I remember when my cousin Cory was shot and killed around 12 years ago and how unreal it was for me to realize that I'd not see his goofy, loving ass again.

For all of us who've lost someone to gun violence and who deals with guns in our communities, losing another life is no less heartbreaking because each person is special for a reason and no one is a nameless "man" regardless of how bland the media will portray a murder. Taking another person's life out of anger, greed, jealousy or power is uncalled for and we need to stop violence against each other. The glorification of this lifestyle for entertainment purposes and profit within music, videos and film makes me ill.

But with a government that promotes violence as a means to peace, I have to wonder how many more funerals I'll be attending in my lifetime associated with guns and violence. Can't we just get together as a community of people and address our frustrations to the approrpriate places : discriminatory local and government policy and the racist, greedy media which hypes a particular stereotype about poor, ghetto youth. The answer isn't to imprison our youth, it's a reeducation and (dare I say it) decolonization of our battered minds.

I don't know about having kids in our society. I don't want to have to bury my son or daughter. However, statistics are not in my favor.

Exhaling

I had a much better night last night. Although I got my period right before I went out (ladies, you know how that sucks), it was still fun.

L came over, we had lunch, talked chilled and then went to S's house for dinner. It was fun, we got to see her new place, meet her new roommates, eat (again) and chilll. We had this great tea, it was all natural herbs (with the h pronounced here), rosemary and some other stuff, that we just cut up, seeped in hot water, added some sugar and voila, tasty. I was a bit skeptical before I tasted it and then I was like, "Where can I get some of this?" After eating, we bundled up like we living in the North Pole and headed out to Tandoors. It was COLD, like about 40 degrees F, with some wind, but we walked since Tandoors is only about 10 minutes for S's place. It was so nice to walk around a city again like a normal person. Berea/Yeoville was pretty active too, unlike ghost town Braamfontein. Tons of corner stores (bodegas where I'm from), people selling food - sausgages and kebobs and snacks on the street, crazy drunk guys parked in the middle of the street with their hazards on dancing to their car radio's music. Lots of activity, and of course once you get to Rockey Street it's like bar after bar of good music of all types and lots of people dancing and having fun. It was nice.

Tandoors was on point too, the DJ was different from our Thursday rendition and he didn't kill the song by playing it 6 times (although the Thursday DJ is cuter). It was cold as hell though, so between warming ourselves by the fire (Tandoors is outside on a rooftop, just fyi.), playing pool and moving from one room to the next, we ran out of there before we had frostbite and EVERYONE bitched at least 5 times on the way back about how cold it was, even L, although he was mostly laughing at us when we first left, all like, "It's not FREEZING out." There was about 7 of us, so it was fun to go with a group of people. We left before the music was done and danced and sang down the street to the last song, before it got too cold and we needed to put our hands in our pockets. S says to me: "Everyone has their hands in our pockets but yours are crossed over your chest"...so I put my hands in my pockets so I wouldn't disrupt the group's vibe.

Who ever thought I'd be in South Africa freezing my ass off with a funky, friendly ass crew that I fit right into?

PSA

Tonight I walked out on a group of people and decided to spend some time by myself. I need to find my own community and if it means that I have to let go of some people, I have to do that. I hate being the token Black friend and I won't be the "Black" experience for anyone solely because I hang out in their room and bring some color. I'm really sick and tired of trying to "bridge" my worlds. So I left L, K and M to have a nice white party in M's room and I came back to my space of comfort.

I don't think that I have to be the one to always extend the olive branch, and I definitely don't have to be in South Africa and feel like I'm the "rebellious" one because I want to hang out in South African spots with Black South Africans. Fuck that shit. And I'm not going to feel bad for wanting to find my comfort zone, which just might not include white people. Does that mean I'm supporting separatism? Probably. Shit, white people have written the manual on separatism -- see any history of European nations where they've secluded, ostracized and locked down people of color, all while leaving their own white lands to form more white supremacists empires wherever they can.

In my short life, there are few white people I've found who are willing to hang out with almost all Black people. I've lived on the East and West Coasts of the U.S., in Israel and the D.R., visited Cuba, Haiti, Belgium and Spain. Not many places, I know, but a good amount for a 23year old seeing as how I have family members who've never even left NYC (shit, they rarely leave the Bronx and I see now, why). I come to South Africa and still white people are the same, they still self-segregate and are so xenophobic that they continue to alienate Black people and the Black experience -- EVEN THOUGH THEY CHOOSE TO LIVE IN A BLACK NATION! I think choose is the most important factor in their experiences. These white people choose their surroundings; it's not something that many people of color can say about their histories. My response to xenophobic, backpacking, do-gooder white people who like to live in "dangerous" places and trash those places, all the while expecting a cookie for being "down": NOBODY ASKED YOUR ASS TO COME HERE. In fact:

Where's the "Go back to Europe" movement? I'm gonna gather all the people of color, living in white colonial and post-colonial (ha!) nations and we're gonna start the GET THE FUCK OUT AND GO BACK TO EUROPE movement. Cuz even in AFRICA, white people still congregate, self-segregate and label majority Black places as inherently dangerous, walking around in blissful denial. No, no, not blissful denial, walking around in a fear they use to lubricate themselves and masturbate with. Worried that their gonna be raped, killed and targeted cuz their white. Oh yeah these white people know about that reality, cuz it's the same one they're grandfathers and fathers have inflicted on so many people of color. White people know the deal cuz they wrote the manual on how to make the "other" as demonic as possible, so they understand just how much hate can reside in a Black body and mind, they need only to refer to their own hate (advertised as "fear") towards people of color, and especially Black people.

I refuse to feel bad because I CHOOSE not to massage that hate in my white "friends". There are other sad, self-hating Black niggas out there who can do that for you -- this chick ain't the one. I CHOOSE to self-segregate and be around other positive, fun and cool Black people rather that spend time with anal, scared, self-righteous, sheltered white people. I did that Cumbaya shit (sometimes) in college and it was four years too many.

I think I need my own shirt: WARNING: I'M A SELF-LOVING BLACK PERSON. Don't be fooled by the light skin, wide smile and glasses. The nose, lips, forehead, breasts, and hips should give you a clue in case you're confused: I am as Black as it gets and I'll cut a bitch (either male or female), smoke up a blunt and curse the police, then go home and read an erotic ebook by Ann Vremont. I rock Nine West shoes and please recognize that my favorite designer is D&G. But since the white side isn't as accepting of versatile Black loving Black people, I find that I'm happier with Black people and that means my first reaction is gonna be a hostile Black one. Evil and dominance will only respond to likeness. Peace and love is not the answer when your adversary's tact is kill, shoot and "reconcile" afterwards. Fuck that shit. I'm shooting too, and we can sit down and "reconcile" when we see who's left.

Hence forth, I shall be known as Ms. X.

I don't have to like white people to bump their music, sport ther clothes, or bastardize their languages, while recognizing that they're inherently better at some things (like making Vegan food look good). And white backpackers don't have to like me either -- I'll be the Black girl who loves me some Norah Jones with my girl Sone while we drink wine and watch SATC. Just like how the whites have their own gangsta parties and practice dancing and talking like Black folk.

We all don't have to get along.

80s babies

I bought a car today, a 1986 cream colored, pimped out Mercedes Benz. Well, it's not really "pimped" out but it could be with some few adjustments, which I will not make. The front seats have some sort of suede like coverings and the back seats are leather. It's in mint condition, an elderly couple had it and wanted to get rid of it, because they wanted something a bit different. The salesman said they cried when they sold it, they were so attached to it. In 5 years, it'll be a classic, and when I told the salesman I only needed it for a year, and would probably sell it, he said he wanted first dibs on buying it back. It only has 145Kilometers on it, after 20 years. The car is an 80s baby like me, so I think we'll get along just fine.

TMI (Too Much Information)

The high ceilings in my room make it so that everyone's conversations are broadcasted throughout the top floor -- at the least, it's easy to hear your immediate neighbors. While I haven't been privy to any scandolous noises yet (that was in my flat in Upland that I had to deal with the amorous couple), on my immediate right the guy in there feels the need to have really loud intellectual discussions at about 10pm at night. It goes on for about 2 hours, with at least 3 people in the room. Today I decided to start bangining on the ceilings with my window-closer rod, and bump some really loud music. Equally obnoxious, I know, but it did the trick and they shut the hell up.

Got a package!

Full of yummy stuff that I've been CRAVING!!!! I love all this stuff in the box, check it out: copies of Essence, Ebony, Entertainment Weekly, Trader Joe's White Cheddar Popcorn, Samoas - Girl Scout Cookies, and Paul Mitchell's Super Skinny Shampoo/Conditioner. Lovely, just lovely. Here I am, luxuriating in my goodie bag. Good lookin Santi, Brian, Kate & Beth!

Spotlight on Kaneisha!*

Kaneisha just sent me her thesis -- my girl won the Black Studies Outstanding Thesis Award *sniffle*, I'm so proud of her. She'll also be heading to Harvard soon for a double masters degree in Public Policy and Business Adminstration. Of course, that's after her year abroad in Ghana as an Ambassadorial Scholar where she'll obtain her masters degree in African Studies. Can you tell she's also my inspiration as well as my protege? You go, girl. I'm proud of you!


*an idea stolen from Sonja's blog.

Hi friends

I'm alive! Not that it's been a whole, but it has been a bit hectic and will continue to be so until I finish my semester (which suprisingly is in about 2 weeks). Time to be a postgraduate student and act like I have some knowledge.

100th post

While finishing my senior thesis in college, I spent the last two months living off Black and Milds and Cherry Coke. Occassionally I'd smoke other types of cigarettes, whatever I could get my hands on, and I'd also get hit off of with some Aderol to keep my ass awake and jittery. College is a fucked up place where the spoiled elite go to expensive camp to nurture their minds in preparation for taking over Daddy's business, and the not so elite go to experience major culture shock and graduate with bitterness as they realize that their debt-full ass is now forced to either endure more schooling or a boring mediocre-paying job, to gain a chance at more than just surviving day to day.

At 2:03am, awake and working on a paper for Gender and Critical Theory in IR, I found myself longing for a taste of Black and Mild. I brewed some green tea, lit a vanilla candle from The Space and massaged by mood stone advertised to aid me in focus and tranquility . Instead of fighting the paper, I'm going to try to embrace it and work through the boredem/sleepiness without the aid of caffeine, nicotine or uppers.

Here's to a drug-free, intellectual me.