Finding organic subjects is not always a easy thing to do during the cold Midwestern winters. I can’t wait until spring is here because I need to see colors other than white, gray, & brown.
I’m longing to see red, purple, blue & yellow. I’m ready to see leaves, bees, grass & flowers. LIFE!
Jíbaro, mi negro lindo
De los bosques de caña
Caciques de luz
Tiempo es una cosa cómica.
Jíbaro, my pretty nigga.
Father of my yearning for the soil,
The land,
The earth of my people.
Father of the sweet smells of fruit in my mother’s womb,
the earth brown of my skin,
the thoughts of freedom that butterfly through my insides.
Jíbaro, my pretty nigga.
Sweating bullets of blood and bedbugs,
Swaying slowly to the softly strummed stains of a five string guitar
Remembering ancient empires
Of sun gods and black spirits and things that were once
So simple.
How times have changed Man.
how Man has changed time.
“Unnatural,” screams the wind.
“Unnatural.”
Jíbaro, my pretty nigga man.
Fish smells and cane smells and
Fish smells and cane smells and
Tobacco
And oppression makes even God smell foul.
As foul as the bowels of the ship
That vomited you up on the harbors of a cold metal city to die.
No sun, no sand, no palm trees
And you clung,
Yes, you clung to the slimy ribs of an animal
Called the Marine Tiger,
In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost Amen.
Jíbaro, did you know you my nigga?
I love the curve of your brow,
The slant of your baby’s eyes
The calves of your woman dancing;
I dig you!
You can’t hide.
I ride with you on subways.
I touch shoulders with you in dances.
I make crazy love to your daughter.
yea, you my cold nigga man.
And I love you ’cause you’re mine.
And I’ll never let you go.
And I’ll never let you go.
(You mine, nigga!)
And I’ll never let you go.
Forget about self.
We’re together now.
And I’ll never let you go!
Uh’uh
Never, Nigga.
Art Credits:
Poem: “Jibaro My Pretty Nigger” by Felipe Luciano
Image: “Obama” by Andrew Bannecker
Back in November 09, I was finally able to see the movie “Precious” (Based on the Novel Push by Sapphire). I had not read the book prior to seeing the film, but friends who had “warned” me about what to expect.
To put things mildly, what I was told really didn’t prepare me for what I saw. I mean I left the theater without being able to close my mouth from shock.
There were several scenes that had me about to break down in major tears but somehow I was able to keep from going there. The emotional/sexual/physical abuse, overt colorism, etc were almost too much. But… the story of a young woman fighting to survive for her sake & the sake of her children helped me make it through the movie. I was hoping that this girl who had everything against her finally won.
Once I got home, I sat down to figure out how I was going to talk about the movie & was stuck. I guess I was stuck because I felt like I was missing something. What did the movie not cover from the book. And I also wanted to know more about Precious’ friends from the “alternative.” So, at this point, I logged onto Amazon & purchased “Push.”
Flash forward>>>>>>>>>>>>
I’ve read the book & it filled in all of the holes that I knew were missing and I was satisfied knowing the complicated back-stories of Precious’ friends.
One thing that stuck with me through the book was this passage from chapter 1:
“I big, I talk, I eats, I cooks, I laugh, watch TV, do what my muver say. But I can see when the picture come back I don’t exist. Don’t nobody want me. Don’t nobody need me. I know who I am. I know who they say I am-vampire sucking the system’s blood. Ugly black grease to be wipe away, punish, kilt, changed, finded a job for.”
~ Precious
Is the book hard to read? Yes! The vernacular is written phonetically & some may struggle with that as I’ve heard.
Is the book graphic? Hell yes! The book makes the movie look like a PG rated after school special.
My favorite laughable take aways from the book not fully played out in the movie? “Cunt Bucket.” & “Hasta la vista, baby.”
“She look at me like I said I wanna suck a dog’s dick or some shit. What’s with this cunt bucket? (That’s what my muver call women she don’t like, cunt buckets. I kinda get it and I kinda don’t get it, but I like the way it sounds so I say it too.)” ~ Precious
——–
“My muver say, “Eighty –six that bitch.” I says into the intercom. “Hasta la vista, baby.” That’s Spanish for good-bye but when niggers say it, it’s like, kiss my ass.” ~ Precious
Without a doubt, “Push” is a MUST read, if you’ve seen or want to see the movie “Precious! The short novel fills in the missing links & believe me there are many. This is surprising because the book is a quick 192 pages compared to the 110 minute movie.
Flash forward one mo’ gin’ (Negro Dialect)>>>>>>>>>>>>
This past Monday I attended a MLK symposium talk sponsored by the University of Michigan titled “Push, Literacy, Women, and African American Literature” given by poet & novelist Sapphire.
Sapphire coming to town was too much like right! While at the talk, I planned on getting my book autographed & asking some of the pressing questions on my mind regarding the movie & book.
After the very exciting session was said & done, I wasn’t able to get my book signed but I did get the chance to ask two of my three questions which are addressed in the audio link here.
I wish I could have asked my 3rd question regarding the content on 111 para 4. I just wanted to be sure that what I read was what I read & not what I was thinking it was.
ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZ
A few of my Tweets from the Talk:
Did you see the movie, read the book or both? What are your thoughts?
The last week, has been heavy since the news of the 7.0 earthquake in Haiti. The images alone haunted my dreams fro days. The concern over what would happen to my brothers & sisters in the Diaspora in the wake of chaos, destruction & panic broke my heart, as I’m sure is the case with most people who watch and wait for the slightest bit of good news.
The only thing that I knew to do immediately was donate cash for this cause & that was easy. I sent a text message to 501501 with the word Yele. Later, Suite Suzy went online & made a larger donation to the same organization.
Yes, these are small donations but every dollar adds up quickly. So I encourage you to act with a cash donations ASAP.
Here are a few links:
As I stated on Twitter earlier this week: “I hate to be the bearer of bad news but prayers don’t deliver food, aid, medicines or missing loved ones. Cash will make all of the above happen. I’m just saying.
On a similar but somewhat related note, I’d like to address Pat Robert’s most ignorant statement to date. In case, you missed it, that fool said… What, you can see for yourself in the video below followed by two on point rebuttals.
I’d like to say Pat Robertson; you have officially been checked bitch!
One a final note, I spotted this very witty note from the devil to Pat Robertson written by Lily Coyle, of Minneapolis on NPR’s website today.
“Dear Pat Robertson,
I know that you know that all press is good press, so I appreciate the shout-out. And you make God look like a big mean bully who kicks people when they are down, so I’m all over that action.
But when you say that Haiti has made a pact with me, it is totally humiliating. I may be evil incarnate, but I’m no welcher. The way you put it, making a deal with me leaves folks desperate and impoverished.
Sure, in the afterlife, but when I strike bargains with people, they first get something here on earth — glamour, beauty, talent, wealth, fame, glory, a golden fiddle. Those Haitians have nothing, and I mean nothing. And that was before the earthquake. Haven’t you seen “Crossroads”? Or “Damn Yankees”?
If I had a thing going with Haiti, there’d be lots of banks, skyscrapers, SUVs, exclusive night clubs, Botox — that kind of thing. An 80 percent poverty rate is so not my style. Nothing against it – I’m just saying: Not how I roll.
You’re doing great work, Pat, and I don’t want to clip your wings — just, come on, you’re making me look bad. And not the good kind of bad. Keep blaming God. That’s working. But leave me out of it, please. Or we may need to renegotiate your own contract.
Best, Satan”
Photo Above:?
Photographer: Unknown
Decedents: 2010 Haiti earthquake victims
I visited the Richard Avedon exhibit at the Detroit Institute of Arts today & I’m totally inspired by his work. The pieces displayed at the DIA give a glimpse into his extensive career as a trendsetting photographer & his commitment to diversity.
His creative passion & technical expertise are clearly evident image after image. The sharpness, composition, & lighting on each photo was just breath taking.
I will definitely need to visit again, just to be sure that I didn’t miss anything.
Many of my favorite images featured Dovima, Veruschka, China Machado, & Donyale Luna.
Speaking of Danyale Luna; last week, I heard an interesting segment on WDET’s “Detroit Today,” which discussed the Detroit’s life & career. Totally worth checking out. Fast forward to 34:32
Also, check out Afrobella’s post on Donyale. This is where I was 1st introduced to the Black Super Model.
Photo Above:
Model: Donyale Luna
Photographer: Richard Avedon
Dress: Paco Rabanne
I finally had my turn to see one of the most anticipated Black films this year today: “Good Hair.”
Although I was very excited to see this film, I walked in with an open mind & no real expectations. With that said, I really enjoyed the film as a good piece of edutainment. Actually at one point, it seemed to turn into a mocumentary.
Upon leaving the theater, I posted this on Facebook:
“”Good Hair” was entertaining. Was it deep? No! Will it spark good debates? Not really! Will Black men & women ever abandon their lust for white beauty euphoria? Hell no! But…. I think Rock did a good job though providing good edutainment.”
A couple things that freaked me out in the film were learning about how Indian hair is actually obtained (very disturbing), Derek J’s 4” boots, hearing stories of 2 & 3 year old children getting their hair permed.
Driving home, I figured out that I know entirely too much about Black women’s hair. I actually wish I could un-learn/undo/un-see some of my knowledge & experiences. Call it a cornrow, fried dyed & laid to the side hot mess overload of mass proportions.
If you’ve been reading me for a while or seen my posts on other blogs, you know that I’m always willing to start or jump into a fight/heated discussion on natural vs. chemically/heat processed hair. Well as of lately, I’ve thrown up my hands in this never-ending battle.
I’m married & my woman has “good” Mulatto hair (yes, I did say it! Who gone check me boo?) so I don’t have to worry about weaves, perms, hot combs, running my fingers through her hair without running across a track, snagging a hang nail or getting a ring caught. My daughters rock natural looks & gave up fighting with me on straight looks. It’s a win all the way around for me (for now anyway).
I cannot care or put energy into what other people do with their mops. I’m not fucking them or paying for anything so what difference does my opinion make.
If you want locks; great! If you want to rock a kinky look; great! If you want a perm all down your back; great! If you want to pay hundreds of dollars for hair that an Indian woman shaved off to sacrifice in the name of her religion or had stolen as she slept; great! If you’re dumb enough to think that pressed hair makes you natural: great! Gotta put your hair in the lay-a-way; great! You do you boo!
Wait, let me get back to the movie! Overall, this movie is totally worth seeing even if on a bootleg from the DVD man that visits your salon or barbershop.
So tell me, have you seen it? What are your thoughts? Talk to me!
Photo Above:
Me @ The Detroit Institute of Arts
Taken summer 1992
Hair Styled by Curtis Griffin
Photog: Unknown :(
Like millions of others yesterday, I stopped my life’s goings on to take part in one of the biggest celebrations of life that we may ever see for our beloved and sometimes misunderstood Michael Jackson.
Watching the celebration online was totally surreal & I can only imagine what the energy inside the Staple Center must have been like.
I was moved many times almost to tears but I stayed strong plus, I did not want to be all crying in public. I do have a rep to maintain.
Anyway, the point I almost lost it for the first time was when my boo Queen Latifah read Maya Angelou’s poem “We Had Him”
“Beloveds, now we know that we know nothing, now that our bright and shining star can slip away from our fingertips like a puff of summer wind.
Without notice, our dear love can escape our doting embrace. Sing our songs among the stars and walk our dances across the face of the moon.
In the instant that Michael is gone, we know nothing. No clocks can tell time. No oceans can rush our tides with the abrupt absence of our treasure.
Though we are many, each of us is achingly alone, piercingly alone.
Only when we confess our confusion can we remember that he was a gift to us and we did have him.
He came to us from the creator, trailing creativity in abundance.
Despite the anguish, his life was sheathed in mother love, family love, and survived and did more than that.
He thrived with passion and compassion, humor and style. We had him whether we know who he was or did not know, he was ours and we were his.
We had him, beautiful, delighting our eyes.
His hat, aslant over his brow, and took a pose on his toes for all of us.
And we laughed and stomped our feet for him.
We were enchanted with his passion because he held nothing. He gave us all he had been given.
Today in Tokyo, beneath the Eiffel Tower, in Ghana’s Black Star Square.
In Johannesburg and Pittsburgh, in Birmingham, Alabama, and Birmingham, England
We are missing Michael.
But we do know we had him, and we are the world.”
Maya’s (like we’re on 1st name basis) words are always on point and right on time. Her words are magical & legendary!
While watching the event I Tweeted live & it was awesome sharing this experience with others in real time from across the globe. A few of my Tweets:
You know me, it’s hard to stay serious when things are hectic. I have to resort to bullshitting.
So after work, I jumped in my car to head to Detroit to record the vibe at the Motown Museum/Hitsville USA. Have a look at my completed photojournal, which also includes photos from Harlem’s Apollo Theater. The pictures tell far more than I ever could.
Since we got the news well over a week ago, I have submerged myself into a Michael Jackson/The Jacksons/Jackson 5 musical coma while fighting back my emotions.
On the day the world stood still, I had a hard time keeping myself together but I managed. I tried to focus on all of what Michael represented. I thought about how my aunt gave me the “Bad” LP for my birthday when I turned 14. I thought about how I love to work out to “I Can’t Help It” & how I sing aloud without a care in the world.
Like millions of others in the world, I did not know Michael but I feel like did. Maybe its because he was a part of my life musically since I was a baby.
Shit I remember my momma having the “Off The Wall” & “Thriller” albums displayed on our living room wall, along side some of her other favorites of that time.
I remember so much & I only have good memories.
I remember teasing after the “Pepsi commercial” when I was in elementary school.
“Michael Jackson went to town thinking he was pony down. Pepsi Cola burnt him up, now he’s drinking 7-Up. 7-Up had no caffeine, now he’s singing Billie Jean.”
Who made that shit up & why was it so funny back then? We may never know.
So anyway, last week, while on vacation in NYC, I made it a point to visit Harlem so that I could experience 1st hand the frenzy of love circling the Apollo Theater.
When I walked upon the theater, it was hard not to get emotional. I almost had to detach myself from my personal being to work as a photojournalist. It was not an easy task as I’m a very emotional person anyway.
I can only imagine what Harlem will be like today (July 07, 2009).
So, it’s the day that I never thought would come but here it is & I guess finally considering all of the drama being reported out. I mean, Michael converted to Islam months ago & here he is still above ground. I feel that he has been totally disrespected in so many ways.
Will his soul ever be able to rest?
I’ll miss Michael but from the looks of things, he will continue to grace us with music for a long time to come. I’ll be there for every release. I am a fan & I’m not afraid to say that I LOVE Michael Jackson, no matter what.
To see other images that I captured at the Michael Jackson Tribute Memorial at the Apollo Theater, click here.
Yesterday on the drive home I was listening to “All Things Considered” on NPR like I do most days. If you are a NPR listener, you know all about “driveway moments,” so lets just say that I had the worst driveway moment ever.
My driveway moment started after anchor Robert Siegal, in haste noted that singer Michael Jackson was rushed to the hospital after being found unconscious from possible cardiac arrest.
As I sat in my car, I screamed nooooooooooooo! I knew that he had died. I felt it! Not only that, after a cardiac arrest, survivability chances are very slim to none.
With that on my mind, I continued to sit in my car dumbfounded & lost. It took me almost an hour to make it into the house. I felt like I just couldn’t move at all.
Once I collected myself a little, I took to Twitter for more info & to share my thoughts.
When I started to share my thoughts & collect information, the rest of the world must have also done the same thing because Twitter was hardly moving.
Here are some of my tweets from the time that I got the news till the time I was finally able to go to sleep.
To get a clue as to how popular this unfortunate this story is in terms of Twitter & the internet, read this. It will also clue you into the relevance of the image above if you are not familiar with Twitter & a little more.
When I saw this image that was emailed to me by a friend, all I could do was smile & really big, while saying “show nuff!. Then I laughed at this caption, which accompanied the image:
“You won’t see this photo on CNN. Everyone is too busy showing the Queen being touched. This was a moment of “touching” that won’t be forgotten by this bobby.”
I imagined myself as the guard who probably put his job on the line by breaking protocol to touch this brotha who is literally at the pinnacle of the political & free world. A brotha!
If I were the guard, I think I would have had to go there too. Just looking at his smile shows you the sheer impact of what Barack Obama means to Negroes around the world.
And to jock Obama’s swagger, you can see it just exuding even from the back. My boy knows his shit is popping!
Yeah, I know that I have stated that I am sick of all things Obama, but this one image pulled me out of that zone for a hot minute. Two Negroes! One photograph! One thousand words!
We are Obama. Obama is us. But if he fucks up, we have to hold him accountable, flat out!
I’m just saying.
Photo Credit: Daylife
Barack Obama, shaking hands with PC Michael Zamora, right a policeman on duty outside 10 Downing Street in London, Wednesday, April 1, 2009.