I've Been Tagged!

So I've been blogging for a little while now and I never really imagined I would enjoy it so much. What I am really surprised about is how in starting my own blog, I found so many other fantastic blogs. One such fantastic blog is The Glamazon Chronicles by OG. OG is the person who "tagged" me and I'm so tickled. So I'm taking out time this morning to do my "Tagged Duty". I've been thinking about it so here goes . . .

First the Rules:













Seven Random or Weird Facts
1. Even though I'm a very picky eater, I enjoy eating strange combinations of food. For example, cheese and jelly, pickles and fish sticks, yogurt and peanuts. My husband and friends joke that I eat like a pregnant person even when I'm not pregnant. Also random, I have never eaten lobster or clams or squid. And I never want to.

2. I scored a perfect score of the verbal section of my SAT and on the SATII writing exam and was 20 points away from scoring a perfect score on the SATII American History. In high school, I took three AP courses and scored a perfect score on 2 out of the three. I can't believe how important my scores were to me when I was younger and how inconsequential they are not to my life. They mean nothing now and honestly, I wish I had enjoyed school more instead of working so hard to be "perfect". I really missed out on my teen years!!

3. On each hand, I have the "nub" of what would have been an extra finger. The one on my left hand is larger than the one on my right. As a baby, the doctor tied off the extra fingers (no bone or nerves or anything) and it fell off. But the "nub" is still there. I've always been self-conscious/embarrassed/ashamed of it. In school when we were asked to hold hands, kids gave me such a hard time about the nub and often would refuse to hold my left hand. The hubby melted my heart when we were dating/getting serious by kissing the nub.

4. I wear glasses. Thick. Super Duper Thick. I cannot see a thing without my glasses and the first thing I do in the morning is feel around for them. I worry that if there's a situation and my glasses get broken or knocked off, I'm in a real pickle!! I also have astigmatism some buying contacts is an (expensive) royal PITA.

5. I wanted to be an opera singer when I grew up. I listened obsessively to Kathleen Battle and other Black opera singers and I knew that's what I wanted to do. I practiced and practiced and practiced (much to my mother's annoyance). In high school, one racist teacher "demanded" to know where I learned to sing opera, saying that "hood girls" don't know anything about classical music.

6. I also wanted to be a doctor and was well on my way. I started college in a combined B.S./M.D. program commuting from home. I did horribly and left the program in hopes of becoming a doctor the traditional way. After an all day chemistry lab where by 9:00PM I had no results, I finally decided that the sciences were not for me and found my way to the English department. I graduated with a degree in English lit and a minor in Black studies and I never looked back.

7. I hope to retire to Ghana after I become famously rich here in the United States. I visited for the first time last summer and fell in love. Oh, the two-week trip wasn't easy. I had a 2 year old, was 3 months pregnant, got woefully sick with stomach virus after eating undercooked eggs accidentally but it was fabulous and beautiful and heartbreaking all at the same time. Interestingly enough, I did not get on the computer or check my e-mail for the whole two weeks. It was a great detox and I hope to have the discipline to do another two-week detox right here in the states.

Bonus Random Fact
My first name has 11 letters in it.
My middle name has 12 letters in it.
My maiden last name has 7 letters in it
My married last name has 9 letters in it.
My last name is hyphenated. So my whole name has a total of 39 letters in it.
(As a 4 year old, learning to write my name was, I was convinced, slow, painful torture!)
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Now for the folks I'm tagging!
1. Nya over at 80sBaby70ssoul
2. Amoi over at I am the sum of my parts
3. Just me at My Little Slice of Pie
4. Anaylli at Nyam: Adventures in Cooking and Eating
5. Kellybelle at Ephphatha
Hmmm . . . I need two more but I don't have two more. The two more would have probably been OG (but she tagged me and if you're reading this, it was great to read your 7 random things . . . LoL!) and Black Girl in Maine.
Anyway, tagged folks, I hope you'll do it!! :)

Not So Hidden Racism

Okay, so every Black person I know has a story of how they've felt racism--overt and covert. I always find it interesting the times/places where racism rears it's ugly head.

Tuesdays I take my boys to the local library. They play, look at books and have storytime while I collect the books needed for the week's lesson. Well, today upon our arrival, I noticed an older White lady kind of just sitting there waiting. She soon started to pass out papers. When I looked at mine, it was basically a breakdown of healthy eating, you know, according to the food guide pyramid. Me, being as well-versed in nutrition as I am, was like, okay, cool, whatever, I know all this.

So the kids are playing and making all their noise and enjoying themselves and she starts in on talking to "the mothers". Now, I smirked because she didn't even bother to find out if we were actually the mothers. Brown women. Brown babies. Ass-umption. Most of the ladies there are actually the caretakers/babysitters. Well, she continues on addressing us as "mothers". What annoyed me first and foremost was that Homegirl never introduced herself. Like, who the heck are you anyway and what qualifies you to be "educating" us? She never did say who she was and where she came from. She just started in on lecturing us. She never found out what we did know and what we didn't know. Just started to let us know that indeed, McDonald's is crap food and you shouldn't be feeding it to your kids. Well, as time went on, the lecture rolled around to whole grains. I thought I'd give Grandma a run for her money so when she said, "Now do any of you mothers know about the kinds of whole grains?" I said, "Sure, there's millet, amaranth, buckwheat, quinoa, oats, whole wheat groats, and rice." She genuinely looked stunned and retorted, "What kind of rice?" I said, "Well, brown rice of course." She turns to "the mothers" and says, "Yes, brown rice for your brown babies!" Wtf??

Well, the lecture hobbled along that way. She asked where you can get things like whole grains and high fructose corn syrup free foods "around here". And I said, "you can't get it around here . . . you drive 5 mins to Super Stop and Shop and you might be able to get a couple of good things; you drive 20 mins and go to Trader Joes, Mrs. Greens or Whole PaycheckFoods." She looked at us so pityingly I almost wanted to say, "Don't worry Grandma, most of us poor Black folks own vehicles and drive." I guess because these "mothers" were there at the library at that time, they couldn't be gainfully employed or otherwise educated. The whole thing was in sharp contrast to another White woman who came to give us a presentation on lead poisoning. She respected us. Engaged us. Introduced herself for goodness sake. We left feeling positive and having received some useful information.

I did speak to her after the session though. In a "Black Ambassador" kind of way. You know like, "Well, actually we've learned a lot about this stuff because we've had folks come before" and "yeah, I've always been interested in health especially since I was a vegetarian for a number of years" and "yeah, I've considered returning to school to earn my Ph.d in nutritional anthropology" and "yeah, you know my mother is actually a Columbia university educated nutritionist" and "Oh and yeah, I have a master's degree in childhood education and cook all our food from scratch . . . " The old biddy couldn't process all that--like, "You? A nigger? Wow."

As I watched this older woman today functioning under all these assumption about us as Black women, I just felt the enormity of what the daily struggle for people of color is in this country. This woman was ostensibly there to give out good information. I know she thought she was doing good. But the motivation behind her actions was all wrong. And because it was wrong, based in racism, she wasn't able to do an effective job. I think if nothing else, it crystallized what the problem with racism is--it makes building bridges, connecting with other humans based on our humanity virtually impossible. If we cannot connect, if we cannot build bridges, we cannot collectively grow and evolve.

Look, when Old Girl said that my kids "look healthy", I was hoping she wouldn't touch them. I would seriously have smacked her hand away or worse. It felt like another Color Purple moment (my life, it seems, is filled with Color Purple moments--LoL):
Mayor's Wife: Your kids are so nice and clean. Do you want to be my housekeeper?
Sophia: Hell no.
Mayor's Wife: What did you say?
Sophia: I said, Hell no.

Well, let's just be grateful she didn't touch them. My inner South Bronx girl might have made an appearance. :)

Vision Boards and Other Meditation Tools

I want to focus on putting up a vision board in the space where I do my 5.5.5. I already did a vision statement using powerpoint but I want something tangible that I can see without opening up a program. I'd also like to make a Chakra poster that helps me organize the functions of each chakra, its strengths/weaknesses, and corresponding affirmations/meditations. I'm not sure how long it will take me. I'm pretty sure working on it will be next to impossible so long as "put everything in my mouth" Z2 is on the loose. So it might have to be an early morning project. I will need poster paper/oaktag, markers and pictures from magazines.

I'm looking online to get ideas about how to do each project. Can't wait to have it done and post pictures.

Keeping it Light Online

I have a vice . . . Okay we all do but I feel mine is silly and due to a lack of discipline. It is getting too emotionally invested in online conversations (message boards and blogs). The conversations sometimes get a little too real in my mind. I think about the conversation constantly wondering did I make my point. I get offended when folks say offensive things. And I forget that these "online people" don't know me and I don't know them. I forget that "online people" say and do a lot of things that may not necessarily be true. You can create a whole online personality if you so choose, say you are who you are not, make up a whole history for yourself, offer advice and tips based on stuff you made up or things you found on the internet and not really things you've experienced and gone through. Why then do I find myself from time to time emotionally invested in trying to bring my point across to "online people". It's silly. I feel silly. I know it's partially because most of my days are spent talking to a three year old and a 10 month old--that I crave the adult interaction and intellectual stimulation. The other reason is because clicking around reading threads/blogs is one of the few activities that I can do while nursing or holding a child (I now can type pretty darn fast with one hand). Like many things in my life, though, I have to remind myself that in due time, in due time, I'll get that aspect of my life back. Online "intellectual exercises" without the benefit of really knowing the participants, seeing their facial expressions and body language leaves much to be desired.

I was involved in a conversation for almost four days that I have had to mentally and spiritually purge from. It took an ugly turn (where I felt that I was essentially called "the enemy" in a "spiritual battle") for basically presenting an unpopular viewpoint. So I unsubscribed this morning, deleted all the e-mails, every physical trace of the conversation. And this post is my final effort to purge and recommit to the discipline of keeping it light online. If a post starts out with, "I know this will ruffle feathers", stay far, far away especially as soon as you realize that anything other than agreeing with the main point is not truly what is being sought for; when the poster is basically looking for folks to sign on. I realize that looking for support only is indeed a valid reason to blog/post.

Online is to enjoy. To learn. To connect. Not to battle or feel attacked or be defensive or to feel judged.

For me, blogging and participating in online forums is supposed to be fun and enlightening. Supportive at times. Light. I know there's work to be done in real life and sometimes engaging in "deep" conversation online is a way to avoid real work. I know that my real life is serious enough where my online life really shouldn't be.

Every time this recent "online incident" comes to my mind, I recognize it and purge it with one huge breath out. I'm getting rid of this vice today.

Getting your side hustle on . . .

I'm constantly trying to find ways to augment our household income that don't take too much time away from my babies. I hate feeling like I'm neglecting them just to make a couple of bucks. I also need time at some point in the day to decompress so I know I don't want to do any work that eats away at what little free time I have.

One way of making extra that I find extremely compatible with being a stay-at-home mom is my baking. Now, I made a go of the home baking business way before Z2 was born with meager results. I'm encouraged now to keep at it especially since recently I've received a number of orders. It's the best way to make money for me because I enjoy it and because I can do it while fully engaged with my babies.

Z2 is young right now and requires a lot of me but I have some ideas about making Chi's Cakes and Cookies a profitable enterprise while I stay at home. Z2 will be one in December and I know that once children hit that one year mark (closer to 15 months), you as a mother can do so much more. And so I'm looking forward to picking up more business. I made the investment in equipment a while ago so I'm taking time now to plan, plan, plan to see if I could bring in some extra. Any extra helps. And if that extra doesn't cause the household complete upheaval (which in that case I might as well go back to teaching), I'm all for it.

I just wonder what angle to push Vegan? Healthier? Homemade? All of the above? None of the above? To label something as "vegan" and "healthier" sometimes gives people the idea that it's just nasty. LoL. Homemade . . . aren't people afraid of things made at home? Ahhh . . . I understand why marketing is so crucial. :)

Cleva

Erykah Badu dropped her album Mama's Gun back in 2000. My favorite song on the album is called "Cleva".

Now I like many other women, and women of color in particular, have struggled with self-esteem. A particularly traumatic fifth grade experience which involved being called ugly on a daily basis coupled with the fact that no one at home reinforced or even told me that I was beautiful (often implying that my sister was the pretty, outgoing one and I was the smart, quiet one), and a mother who probably struggles with her own self-esteem issues, left my self-esteem in the gutter. At one point, I would look at every other girl in the street and just know they were more beautiful than me. I just knew when walking with friends that guys were checking them out and not me--unless they were looking at my breasts or my booty. I would avoid mirrors afraid and ashamed to catch a glimpse of myself. My behavior also corresponded with how I felt about myself--including wearing provocative clothing and a "take what you can get" and "put up with a whole lot of shit to keep him" mentality with men.

Slowly but surely, I've been working on my healing and it has been a long haul, let me tell you. It is not easy to reverse years of negative thinking. But it's possible. And it's freeing. And I'm so grateful I've been able to do it. Now, there are times that I slip back a bit. Like when at 10 months postpartum, still none of my pre-pregnancy clothes fit. Like when I realized my locks were thinning again and I would have to cut all my hair off. I know it's harder to look feminine and chic with short hair and for a while there I was whining about looking like a guy. But yesterday, the hubby cut my hair into a dark caesar and gave me a rounded hairline. I expected to look in the mirror and be upset but the opposite happened: I love it. It looks very very feminine and classy. I even had a vision of myself, a full-professor, teaching, dressed to the nines, flawless rocking this style. So while I would love long hair, I am coming to embrace the short hair and being "all right with me" in every way. Yes, there are things I'd love to improve like my skin and losing weight and a better wardrobe but I have never been more sure that I am beautiful and good--and not in some cheesy, "fake it till you make it" way. And that feels good. So yes, as I save up the money to improve things about myself (encouraged in part by a blog by Khadija at Muslim Bushido), it's not like how it used to be, where the exterior things pumped me up. I'm pumped up from the inside and just want to make it easier for others to see just how beautiful I am. See, I was raised to think saying good things about yourself was vain and conceited (and even typing this I feel chided in a way but whatever). This world says awful things about me every day. I refute and challenge those things with right thinking and an assurance that, I'm "all right with me".

Oh, "Cleva" resonates with me so much I could have written it myself. My hair. My "ninnys". My dress. The "little pot in my belly". But I can sing the hook to Ms. Badu's song Cleva without an eyeroll or any twinge of doubt now. I couldn't do that 8 years ago when the song came out. Oh, I sing it loud and strong too, because if you didn't know, I can "sang" . . . .lol, no shame in telling the truth about that either. :)



This is how I look without makeup
And with no bra my ninny's sag down low
My hair ain't never hung down to my shoulders
And it might not grow
Ya' never know

But I'm clever when I bust a rhyme
I'm cleva always on ya' mind
She's cleva and I really wanna grow
But why come you're the last to know?

I got a little pot in my belly
So now a days my figure ain't so fly
My dress ain't cost nothin' but seven dollars
But I made it fly
And I'll tell ya why

But I'm clever when I bust a rhyme
I'm cleva always on ya' mind
She's cleva and I really wanna grow
But why come I'm the last to know?

Alright, alright, alright
Alright, alright, alright
Alright, alright, alright
Alright, alright, alright yeah

Alright with me
Said that I'm alright with me
Said that I'm alright with me
Said that I'm alright with me
Said that I'm alright with me
Said that I'm alright with me

Frivolous Spending?

Okay, being a SAHM for me means a lot of sacrifice. A lot of waiting for things. A lot of not getting things at all. Which is fine with me because I am blessed with the opportunity to stay at home with my kids, they still are well-clothed, well-fed, and well-housed (plus can have little extras like the toy trumpet Z1 wants). This is *more* important to me than all of the things I could have by working outside the home.

But there is one "fluff" thing that I really want. It's not a big ticket item like a laptop (which I dream of having one day). It's actually pretty small. It's a Coach Wristlet. Something small enough to hold my phone, keys, ID and a little bit of money. But it's sophisticated in it's function. It adds a little bit of class and elegance to something as mundane as taking the kids to the playground or going grocery shopping. Of course, practically speaking, I won't be getting it. Especially if I want to get this sports bra to get my workout on (which is indeed a necessity). But it's nice to look at. Drool over.

I'm glad that I'm at a point in my life where I can easily distinguish between needs and wants. It's taken me a while to get here and sometimes I do give in to my wants but 99% of the time, I'm a disciplined spender. Frivolous spending just can't factor into my life at this point if I want to stay true to my priority of taking care of my children 100% of the time.

Maybe I'll put away a little each month to get the dang wristlet. Maybe. ;)

Fitness

I woke up today at 5:15 AM. It was pitch dark but I knew that I would have a solid (almost) 2 hours to "do me". So guess what? At 6:30, I popped in my old Denise Austen VHS (yes, I still have tapes and a working VCR) and I worked out. Or at least I tried to.

I learned two things:
1. I am out of shape. Not a little bit. A lot. If the isht really hit the fan and your girl had to run to safety, I might as well give it on up. I ain't running nowhere. You should have seen me huffing and puffing and sweating. Hilarity!! But on a serious note, physical fitness is *key* to emergency preparedness.
2. I need a real sports bra. Wearing my regular bra just will not cut it. Yo, my "girls" were straight assaulting me while I was jumping around exercising. Made me wonder if grown azz women are really supposed to be jumping around. And the bra I was wearing was painful enough for me to quit after about 10 minutes. So I'm going to save up to get an Enell sports bra. I'm a large bra size (you will never find my size in the store--always needs to be specially ordered) and they say for larger chested women, this is *the* bra of choice. So off I go to drop another $60 on a bra (which is what I typically spend).

Whatever which way . . . I want to get back to a size 9/10 which is what I was when I got married. I'm a 13/14 now. I'm ready to put in the work and I finally have a schedule that gives me a clip of time to exercise.. I have collected tons of articles on how to tone a postpartum body (you are not supposed to do crunches or sit ups). Except for eating one too many cookies, my diet is balanced and I don't overeat or eat out of boredom (having to make everything you eat helps with that). I know that after Z1 turned one, the weight dropped like it was hot. I think my metabolism picked up once he wasn't relying on me solely for his nutrition (I didn't have to hold so much weight). I'm hoping the same happens now . . .

Oh, and I was worried that I would wake the family up because the bedroom is right next to the living room. But the tape was on mute and only a faint light was on. They didn't hear me jumping around and everyone woke up at 7:00. I think I can make this work! I know I can!

Helping My Skin Glow

I watched a little bit of Oprah yesterday and they had dermatologists on there. I was a little disappointed that they didn't show women of color but, I admit, I only watched the first 15 minutes. But anyway, my skin has been presenting some challenges recently and I've been thinking about how I can correct it without spending money I don't have.

I used to have really oily skin which I had learned to manage quite well and which was on it's way to being "good skin". And then the babies came. Now my skin is really dry most of the time and, interestingly enough, I'm dealing with acne breakouts again. Thankfully they are not the breakouts of my teenage years (all over/not one area of my face pimple free). So it's time to redo my skin care routine to try to get my skin back to glowing. I had tried honey as a cleanser before but it seemed to jerk around with my allergies. I'm trying it again and moisturizing (or sealing in moisture) with jojoba oil. I did it last night before bed, no allergy flare ups and my skin looked really good this morning (not ashy). I'm going to keep it up for a week or two and see if it will keep breakouts at bay. The hubby uses ground oats as an exfoliant--I might get into that too. The exfoliant that I had been using (by Queen Helene) I think is a little too harsh. My face feels tight and brutalized after using. I'm going to recommit also to doing a facial mask on Saturday although I'm not really sure if the ones I have are good for my skin (again after doing it my skin feels tight--but I think that might actually be the point of masks, I'm not sure).

Now for the dry skin that's made worse by winter, I broke down and bought some Eucerin. At least I'm not itching all over the place. I don't think I'm ready to make a full-fledged foray back into the world of chemical cosmetics but my scalp and hair are dry and sore enough that I am going to also have to break down and try Head and Shoulders to see if it will help some. This is as I wait to see another dermatologist (and what the first dermatologist I had seen recommended).

I've been taking cod liver oil (high Vitamin A and D) but only sporadically. So I'm recommitting to it in hopes that it will help my skin along this winter. Blech.

Basically I have my feelers out trying to find inexpensive ways to help my skin get back to glowing. Now, I know genetically I'm prone to acne and I do have a lot of dark marks and acne skin (big pores, etc). But if I can at least have skin that's not dull, that's pimple free, moisturized and healthy, I'll take that. I know also that my skin probably won't wrinkle and crack as I get older (my mom is in her late 50s and still has acne issues but not one wrinkle) . . . so I'm just trying to make sure that I'm wrinkle and crack free well into my senior years.

Oh, and I'm thinking of cutting my hair into a dark caesar. The hubby is against it but honestly, my hair has fallen out a lot, is patchy and combing it pulls out a lot of hair every time. I was hoping that as it grew, I could maybe find a few dollars to get kinky twists put in (I look good with longer hair but not necessarily hair that hangs down--full hair styles complement my face). But my hair is uneven right now, I can't say that it's actually growing (there a times when my hair stops growing altogether) and honestly the money for a style is not in the budget. DH could cut it and I think it would be neat and very manageable. We'll see.

Bread Refigured

I posted here about the bread I've been baking. You can see that the recipe calls for vital wheat gluten which is expensive at Whole Paycheck. Recently I've been ordering it online from Amazon.com. The latest order I placed was with a seller on Ebay (and saved about $5.00) but due to some clerical errors, it took about 2 1/2 weeks to get here. Anyway, me trying to be as prudent as I can be in these times, realized that I need to conserve the vital wheat gluten (VWG). Since it's clear that I cannot eat the veggie sausages I make from VWG as they make my whole insides knot up and go crazy, that means that one batch of the veggie sausages lasts twice as long (I make them for DH for breakfast) which is great. I also decided to modify the bread recipe to include 1/3 cup less VWG and 1/3 cup more whole wheat flour. The result: a heartier bread that is still light, fluffy and tall. I'm quite pleased. So here's the bread recipe, doubled and refigured.

Tall Sandwich Bread
2 1/2c warm water (105 to 115 degrees Fahrenheit)
2 T oil
6T sweetener of your choice (I use turbinado)
2 t salt
2 c white flour (I use King Arthur unbleached all-purpose)
3 1/3 c whole wheat flour (I use King Arthur Whole Wheat Flour)
2/3 c vital wheat gluten
3 t dry active yeast
8 T ground flax seed

Mix with a bread hook in the Kitchenaid on Speed 1 for 8 minutes or until gluten is well developed. Transfer dough to a lightly oiled bowl. Turn dough to coat with oil. Let rise till doubled (about 1 hour) in a warm. draft-less place (I place a bowl of hot water in my oven and cover dough with a damp towel). Punch the dough down, transfer to a lightly floured surface and roll into a rectangle about 1/2" thick. Tightly roll the dough as if making cinnamon rolls, tuck the end under and pinch closed. Transfer to lightly oiled bread pan. Let rise again. Bake for 40 min at 350 F. Transfer freshly baked bread to cooling rack (remove from pan).

Upcoming New Project

I have so much on my mind right now, most of it very personal. I'm genuinely tired and I need a break, away from everything. But that's just not going to happen.

Anyway, Z1 has a friend he met at the playground, a cute little girl who wears her hair in pigtails. She's 3 years old (4 in December), adorable, and the two of them get along famously. I have 6 skeins of Sugar 'n Cream cotton yarn in the Tea Rose colorway. It's been sitting in my yarn bin for over a year now (I scored it at a thrift store for I think $3 or $4). I haven't been able to figure out what to do with it although I realized it would work best as something for a little girl--I just had to find the little girl! Even though it's six skeins, it's not really a whole lot of yarn but it is enough to make a cute little sweater. I'm trying to decide between two sweaters: Eyelet Yoke Cardigan and Swing Thing. I think I actually prefer the look of the Eyelet Yoke Cardigan more but it is not knit in one piece which means I would have to do some seaming and I hate seaming. Maybe because I really suck at it. I was checking it out on Ravelry and a lot of people knit it in one piece. I think I could do that but honestly, I'm so tired right now that I don't know if I could deviate from the pattern with good results. Still, I like it so much I might try. Swing Thing is a tried and true pattern (I really love how LTK patterns are written and they get rave reviews all the time) although I don't think it's as cute. What do you think?

Eyelet Yoke Cardigan

Swing Thing



It looks like it will take 3 1/2 skeins of the yarn so I have 2 1/2 skeins left over. I think I will do a little hat to accompany the sweater. Can you think of another idea for the left over yarn?

We've come a long way baby . . .

Found this YouTube video on one of my favorite blogs. Now, I'm not easily touched but it touched me. So I'm sharing it.


I love the words it ended with and repeat them again for emphasis: This is not the end but the beginning.

Euphoria

Warning . . . . this is going to be very, very, very long.

Today’s date is Friday, November 7, 2008

Yesterday I spoke to an old friend of mine who wondered why I had not blogged about the historic election of Barack Hussein Obama as president of the United States on November 4, 2008. Here I go although I wasn't sure if I would ever even publish this (hence the length). Honestly, I hold an opinion that is not the popular or mainstream one. It helps to get my thoughts out anyway.

Let me preface all this by saying that for a long time I have been completely detached from America and American politics. There was a long period in my life where a real goal of mine was to pack it up and leave this country. It is not a stretch to say that if I had not met and fallen in love with my DH, I probably would not be living here today. There are aspects of being an American, living in America that are repugnant to me. The excess. The selfishness. The hubris. The sense of privilege. There is indeed a reason why America is not well-liked abroad. Instead of being a gentle giant it is, in its foreign policy and to its own people, especially people of color, a big bully. American history is replete with examples of how from its inception it has constantly and almost obsessively maligned and sought to destroy all people of color physically, psychologically and socially. There was a time in my life when I was sure I was living in the belly of the beast and my goal was to get out. It did not make sense to me to align myself with a sinking ship because as the old RastafaraI Nyabinghi chant goes, “Babylon (surely) gone down.”

Accordingly, I do not believe in the American political process with its Electoral College system. I honestly believe that there are powers that be, higher and more powerful than the president who ultimately decide who takes that office. I do not know how they make their decisions but I suspect it has to do with protecting their own interest, namely their money, their power and their influence. Why bother with making people vote then? Well, the U.S. is in name a democracy. That is what it prides itself on. For this reason, it goes over to foreign lands, making war and deposing heads of states. When Bush stole the election of 2000, he had the effrontery to point fingers at Mugabe’s government to criticize their political process as “undemocratic” and “unfair.” To be sure, the forefathers of this country knew that there had to be some kind of way to protect their interests. These were wealthy White men, property-owners with huge financial interests. They knew that what Joe the Plumber wanted would be, decidedly, a piece of that all-American pie. But they also knew that the common man still had very clear memories of being a British colony, taxed without them having a say. So very astutely, these forefathers made sure to allow the common man the right to vote so that he would feel like he did indeed control his own destiny by choosing who would be his president. But they were very careful to institute a filter, i.e. the electoral college so that if the popular vote came through and the popular candidate won by popular vote, that vote could be toyed with, shifted and changed to make sure the right one came into office. This is how Bush came to steal the 2000 election, except technically, it wasn’t theft. It worked exactly the way it was supposed to. So I do not believe the process for electing the president is necessarily fair and upright. And it is only recently, after having children, that I have re-gained an interest in participating in local politics which I believe are really where democracy plays out (although greed, corruption and deceit are part and parcel of any kind of politics—local or national).

So fast forward to now. From the beginning, I was not overly impressed with Mr. Obama. I’m a confirmed cynic so his message of hope and coming together really did not faze me at all. I am not into lofty language and charisma. I am into substance. So I was not overly impressed choosing instead for Mr. Obama to show me his substance, i.e. concrete plans and ideas that would perhaps lead this country to a turn around. To be sure, I was not looking for a Black messiah to heal all the wrongs that racist Whites (active racist and those who refuse to dismantle White supremacy). I never believed that was what Mr. Obama’s goal should have been so I was not disappointed that he didn’t set forth a plan for Black people. I think that needs to be perfectly clear. He clearly stated his goals, which was to unite this country. Of course, the cynic in me realizes that no one man can unite this hugely and wildly divided country. It always seemed a bit disingenuous to me, that at this time when people are really suffering under the Bush administration, to come with that message. But it was brilliant. People needed to hear it. I watched folks dazed under that message . . . screaming, “Yes We Can!” And all I asked myself is “How?”

I often wonder why now is the appointed time for a Black person to be named president (I use the term Black loosely because Mr. Obama is actually half-Black and half-White—he is not African-American either so I think if I were AA that would detract a bit from my elation). Is it because the powers-that-be are more than happy to let him take over a sinking ship? Do they see something and know something that the average person doesn’t know? Are they about to do something to ensure that the ship goes down while Obama is at the helm?

Now, to some people I’m supposed to be euphoric about Mr. Obama’s election because he is the first Black president. It seems that for some Black people, this is the overcoming, this is the mountaintop that Dr. King referenced. This is symbolic (I think it is necessary with every symbol to sort out what exactly that symbol means and this is what I have been doing constantly).

I think by now everyone has read that (annoying) e-mail poem:

Rosa sat so King could walk so Obama could run so our children could fly.

Well, actually, Rosa sat so that these racist White folks would allow her to take a bus ride like any other human being, to be like any other human being. King walked for equality that racist White folks were bent on denying to Black people. It is not yet clear why Obama ran—time will tell that story. Rhetoric does not equal real reason although I hope his rhetoric does in time prove true. And I am teaching my children right now that they can fly. That nobody can stop them from flying. Obama did not have to run for me to believe that and teach that to my children. The hugest injustice that has been done to Black people all over the world is psychological. The internalization of an inferiority complex. I’m not blaming Black people. It is difficult to damn near impossible to have a good self image with all of the violence, blatant and more hidden, that racist White people have perpetrated against Black people in all kinds of ways. Right now, Black people’s self-esteem seems to have gotten a huge boost. For that reason, I’m glad that Obama has been elected. Will this be the cure to what ails us psychologically? Maybe. If nothing else, it represents a good first step for Black people, a strong infusion of the idea of “Yes We Can” that Marcus Garvey championed decades ago under the mantra “Up ye mighty race . . . you can do what you will!” Maybe now Black people will start to believe it and start to take responsibility for their fate and future. For this, I’m hopeful. After all, we cannot make any more excuses. Racist White folks will not entertain our complaining any longer because they have given us our first Black president (you will note that many are congratulating Black people on this “achievement”). But why I gravitated more towards leaders like Marcus Garvey is that he preached that our self-worth was not predicated on the White stamp of approval. White people could forever and a day refuse to let us into their institutions (the presidency being, it seems, the pinnacle of all White institutions), and we would still know with every fiber or our being that we are worthwhile, beautiful, worthy. For many Black people, being let in has been the ultimate goal. The ultimate confirmation of our humanity and worth. This brings tears to my eyes. I remember sitting in college class with an esteemed professor who taught me that prior to desegregation, Black people were doing wonderful things. They were finding ways to educate themselves well. There were towns alive and thriving where Black money was circulated hundreds upon hundreds of towns within the Black community before it ever left. Not every Black person thought that desegregation something to actively fight for. There was no need to prove our worthiness to folks who did not want to by default acknowledge that. Somehow, we got caught up in worrying about how White folks saw us. Trying to make ourselves acceptable in their eyes. Changing ourselves. Abandoning our own nation building institutions and our own interests to be let in. Only to find that these people had no intentions of truly letting us in. So here we sit, still suffering, still struggling. But at least no one can legally tell us we can’t and don’t belong. At least not in word. Obama’s election represents the definitive proof that we have indeed arrived. Is it?

Another joyful declaration that I have been hearing is that Obama will give Black children a shining example of what they can be, a great alternative to rappers and basketball players. The problem is that the media and even Black people are still treating Obama as an exception to the rule, an anomaly. The media is insidious about it because they attribute his success to the fact that he is half White (of course, they don’t say it but they don’t have to). Black people show just how damaged our self-image is because we seem to buy into the idea that the well-educated, wealthy, well-to-do, intact Black family is indeed a rarity. Again, now, we can aspire to be all that because we have seen that it can be done. I say that the reason why so many Black children aspire to be basketball players and rappers is simply because they see so many—there is the belief that it can be done (even though the likelihood based on probability and straight numbers is small), it is something normal. Young people look at Young Jeezy and Allan Iverson and see folks who came from right where they are right now. If our educational system stays the way it is, if we as Black people don’t take more responsibility for our children’s education, there is just no way that becoming an Obama will be a realistic aspiration for our children even if he is the first Black president of these United States. The onus is on us to make becoming an Obama (even better and more successful) than Obama a realistically attainable goal for all our young. This requires work. Real work. Not symbolism.

So as it is clear to see, there’s nothing euphoria-inducing about my position. It is very much grounded in reality and very cautiously optimistic. Some may take my calmness about the whole situation as “not caring about the struggles that Black people have been through”. The fact that I’m not excited about Obama means that I’m a “hater”. That I am not holding hands, lighting candles and singing Kumbaya now that he’s elected means that I don’t have hope and I’m not interested in change.

Look, it will be wonderful when I’m teaching my children about the U.S. presidents for them to see number 44—a Black man. I’m hoping to have a long list of accomplishments to attribute to #44. I know that this is something their ancestors might never have been able to imagine. But I’m thankful for the resiliency of the human spirit and my ancestors who have shown me that nothing can stop you for becoming what you want to be. I especially thank my father. Upon visiting the village where he is from a few years ago, it struck me very strongly how much of an accomplishment his doctorate is. This town had no roads. No running water. I fully appreciate just how much drive and determination it took for my father pull himself out of that and become who he is today. I’m proud of him. I’m blessed that I have that example. I’m blessed that inside of me, without a doubt, I already knew before Obama came on the scene that, “Yes, I can.” And my children will know that without a doubt. And I know that without a doubt all Black people can. We can be what we will. We didn’t need Obama becoming president for this to be true. It was true all along. The only problem is that we allowed these racist White people (through our disorganization and because of our fear) to make us believe that it wasn’t. Let us not look to them now to give us the green light that it is okay to believe in ourselves again, to believe ourselves worthy once again.

So, yes, I voted for Obama. I wasn’t trying to make history. I wasn’t trying to make sure I see the first Black president. I was voting in hopes that there would be a landslide victory too large for anyone to reasonably steal without some serious uproar. I was voting in hopes that the election just would not be stolen again. I wholeheartedly believe that if the country was flying high and everything was peachy keen, McCain would be in office today. In my opinion, the hands of many White people were forced because self-interests/survival trumped racism. We are undeniable on the brink if not in the throes of the 2nd Great Depression. Oh, but you better believe that Mr. Obama will be held to the highest of high standards. It is over the next few years that we will see just how racist this country is and can be. I do not think for a minute that real, fundamental, psychological change has come to racists in America. They did what it was clear they had to do in order to survive.

I voted for Obama because he is a change. He is a change that happens to have a Black face. To me, he is not the Black face that represents change. I would have voted for any Democrat or any body willing to try something different than what Bush and his administration has been doing. I am expecting this democratic administration to do better for the common folks (as this has been the trademark of the Democrats since FDR) than a republican administration. In other words, I voted the democratic ticket. The bonus is that the democrat is Black.

So what would really make me excited? Oh, I’d be very excited to see a Black leader of any Black nation revolutionizing his/her country, bringing his/her country right into the first world. I’d be excited to see that leader breaking down corruption, stimulating his/her nation’s economy, providing food, medical care, education, basic infrastructure. I’d be excited to see that change. That would give me a huge self-esteem boost. It would require not kowtowing to White folks. It would require blatantly defying White folks. It would require just not giving one good damn about what White folks think. It would require complete self-interest and a commitment to self-determination at all costs. It would require fierce defense of self. I would be proud and excited to see that.

As for the here and now, I’ll get excited about Obama after 4 years and seeing the change actually here. I’ll get excited when words turn into action.

Right now, I’m cautiously reserved relishing hearing some of these right-wing conservative seethe and sulk now that a nigger Black man is in office. They’re doing all they can to keep from shouting “damn it!” while on the air. (Tee-hee, tee-hee . . . take that!)

Peanut Porridge

We eat peanut porridge every morning without fail, i.e. the hubby and I. Z1 will have no parts of anything having to do with peanuts or any other nut for that matter. He has millet for breakfast every morning. Anyway, we really dig our peanut porridge.

The hubby was the one who introduced me to peanut porridge. He would get it at Jamaican restaurants all the time along with other traditional Jamaican fare such as sorrel and peanut punch. At first I made it by grinding peanuts and oats. Then I started making it using peanut butter. Peanut porridge is a delicious way to start the day. It gives me energy and keeps my from being hungry well into the afternoon. Enjoy!

PEANUT PORRIDGE
Ingredients
1/2 cup whole oats, finely ground (I use a coffee grinder)
2 cups water
1/2 tsp cinnamon powder
1/4 tsp. ground nutmeg
1 tsp. vanilla extract
1 cup non-dairy milk
1/4 cup smooth peanut butter
pure maple syrup to taste

Method
In a saucepan, using a whisk, combine the ground outs with the 2 cups water (make sure it's cool water), cinnamon, nutmeg and vanilla. Place over low-medium heat and cook until just thickened. Add the milk and peanut butter and whisk until incorporated. Whisk enough maple syrup so that it's to your liking. Once everything is warmed through, cut off the heat and serve. You can add some sliced bananas for variety.

Makes two servings.

Yum!

Nothing political

Okay, I wasn't going to talk about politics but tomorrow is the big day. I can feel the anticipation in the air.

All I can think is . . . please, please let Obama come into office. I know I can't control it. I know that even if we all vote for Obama he could still not become POTUS. I am just keeping my fingers crossed that they won't steal this one--that for once, things will be fair.

Ya heard it here. Chi-Chi, the cynic admits that yes, I too am hoping for change.