I decided to stop importing my blog to facebook – although I suppose that was the only way to get anyone to read it. I dunno, felt like I couldn’t say what I wanted to say, it wasn’t a “safe” space. I’m not sure what I’m going to say now. We’ll see.
So ashamed to have written more than one of these “I’m still alive” posts. But, yeah I’m still alive.
I’ve barely seen anyone in months, except for my classmates and occasionally my family.
So what have I been up to?
* painted my room – tried once with Stacey and it was an utter failure (really, really bad). In our defense, the paint looked white while wet, and the wall was white, so we couldn’t really see what was going on. Then it dried white, then looked green for maybe 5 minutes and then looked dark blue (fail). After whining about the color my roommate came home and says “love the blue!” (epic fail). So I repainted on Valentines Day (yes I did), and the wall still looks white, green or blue depending on the time of day.
* presented my very own research at forum entitled in The Social Determinants of Health: A Discussion of the Relationship Between Marriage and Health Outcomes in African-American Communities in Washington, DC. I was soo nervous, I was literally shaking. It was crazy! But I rocked it out. I even made a joke in the beginning about wife’s keeping their husbands alive and the crowd loved it. And then I was ok, well, no I was still nervous and speed-talked but then I saw Mincy giving me the slow down sign and then I got control over myself and finished. I thought about posting the power point, but I don’t know that anyone (other than my mom) would be interested in.
* My first chapter, which then turned into my first article is going to be published finally! Well either in August or September but in the 2010. I can’t believe it. 2 years and it’s almost over. Oh yeah!
* I made (and by made, I mean printed, cut and taped to my wall) this super call wall feature. Pic coming soon.
* cooking – I love it. It saves money. It’s fun, it’s rewarding. Unless I cook something bad, because there is always too much, and my roommate never helps me eat the bad stuff (I don’t blame her). Trying to find low calorie meals that are really tasty is challenging at times, but I’m rolling with it. Not surprisingly, I find something I like and then eat it every day for 3 weeks straight. I’m currently going through a grilling phase but I know I shouldn’t each chicken wings every day… but they are so tasty (especially with this new grill seasoning I got).
* getting healthy – It’s an ongoing process. My weight yo-yos. Sometimes I eat super healthy, sometimes I eat crap, some weeks I go to the gym 4 or 5 times a week, sometimes I skip it all together. Oh and I keep spraining my ankle, this probably has to do with the fact that I barely do rehab exercises or let it heal fully. All in all, I try to be forgiving of myself and honestly, that’s always that hard part.
* dating, well wouldn’t you like to know? no but for real, there’s no time for that right now.
* gardening – last summer the apartment a couple of floors below us had this amazing balcony garden. from the street, it looks amazing. I don’t know that I want all that, i just want to grow some herbs and hopefully some string beans (it is sooo hard to find good ones). i really wish i could grow grapefruit ( i have to have them every day).
I have two choices at this point: I can either cart my butt up to Harlem every day or I can clean (and reorganize) my room so I can work at home. Either way, I got a lot of work to get done this year and I need to stop playing Sims and start working.
Unfortunately, here’s what I’m working with.
…yeah. It’s crazy time.
And the worst part is right next to my bed.
*shame face* But fear not, I have a plan. And a time line, get it done within 6 months (Hey I gotta save for some of what I need).
Mostly been busy with school. For the past few weeks I’ve been reading about black fathers (surprise) in the 19th century. Not surprisingly, there wasn’t much in the newspapers about Black men as fathers – aside from them murdering their children or their children murdering them (so lame). In my early research, I kept reading about how Black fathers were abandoning their families and how there’s been a high rate a female headed households in the Black community since slavery ended. But when I went looking for primary sources to back this up, I couldn’t find any. In fact, I kept reading about how high the marriage rate was after slavery, how these men were finding and buying their families, it was all gravy. But then, where the hell did this idea that Black men were peacing out come from? That’s become my latest obsession becuase I figure someone must have written about that somewhere. But alas, I can’t find it. Call it a myth I guess.
Other than school: the Trainer and the diet – Let’s put it this way, I’ve been hungry since Sunday and I am over it. Yes it’s nice to workout and feel healthy, but for real, being hungry all the time is not fun. My friend said “If you’re not hungry, you’re not doing it right.” I believe that. But I feel like if I’m hungry the numbers on the scale should be dropping – and their not. Granted, my pants are way looser than they were before, I’ve become obsessed with the number on the scale and I don’t like that. I also don’t like not enjoying my meals. There are healthy meals that taste good, I just need to find them and make them. The trainer put me on a meal plan that’s basically veggies and meat – no real descriptions on how to prepare em. So I’ve been having baked chicken and broccolli – that got old really quickly. Tonight, I’m going to try to make this. yum-o.
South Park. Dear Lord, please let me stop watching South Park (the movie and the show). It is soo ignornant, but it takes the edge of my days. That and Sims 2 (it’s like we just rekindled our relationship – hell I might even start LJ blogging about it again).
Ever since I started this blog I’ve been struggling with where to go with it. I felt it had to have a theme, but I spent so much time worrying about what that theme was that I never actually blog, which is super lame since I do think and care about a lot of things. So I decided to just write what I like as long as I’m actually writing.
The more I watch the news, the more worried I become about our youth. Last month it was the brutal murder of Derrion Albert. Yesterday it was the gang rape (and beating) of a 15 year old at Richmond High School. The crimes themselves are disturbing enough. The bystander effect hurts my soul. There have been many studies showing that the more people witnessing an act of violence, the less likely anyone is to help. It’s scary to know that if I’m being attacked, it might actually be better if only one other person is around as opposed to a crowd of people. I can understand some of the rationalizations of why people don’t jump in and help. But what I cannot understand is why some people would join in on the violence. CNN reported that as word spread about what was going on outside the dance, more people came to watch and some people joined in. That is just sick.
Today CNN posted a follow up of the victim’s friend giving it to the school. Granted, she spends most of her time talking about how she is a minority at the school, how she doesn’t feel safe and how another school (that is mostly White and Asian) has more security and handled a similar situation in a much different (read: better) way. From what Kami Baker says, I imagine the victim is White or Asian. If she’s White, it’s a wrap for these dudes, who I’m imagining are mostly men of color.
As is usual in cases of violence against women, other students are blaming the victim – ugh. I’m so done. I don’t care if she was drunk. I don’t care that she wasn’t popular. It’s not an excuse. I get it, blaming the victim takes the responsibility off the bystanders and other people. It’s still fucked up. I was watching another video where a chaperon was shirking any responsibility claiming that if she left, it was her and her parent’s responsibility to make sure she got home safely. That’s fair, but this girl did not even make it off school grounds. In my opinion, if she still’s at school, she’s still your responsibility. It was a 2.5 hour gang rape. That is a long time. And if word got around to all these kids, I don’t believe that no chaperon, security guard or police officer saw all these kids running to this random alleyway.
I don’t understand rape, I wouldn’t know else what to write.
I dedicate this post to Josh, Quise, Baby K and my dad.
The more I read the news, the more I realize it’s important to recognize that Black men are important. I think we need to say this out loud more often. And I need you to believe it when we say it.
You guys are dying every day and it’s crazy – beating each other to death with rail road ties just because, shooting each over over turf, killing each other because one is gay, over medicating yourselves with drugs, or committing suicide. You are being killed every day – by each other and by the police (40 taser deaths this year jeez).
Black men you need to reach out to Black boys. They need guidance, and as much as us women try to lead them down the right path, we know you can connect with them in ways we cannot. I respect this bond and wish more of you would cultivate these relationships with your brothers, son, nephew, cousins, mentees and neighbors. You need to show them that there is nothing cool about burying your friends, killing your enemies, fighting over petty shit like shoes or colors… or even girls.
Black fathers you need to talk to your sons. Even if you hate your baby momma, you need to leave her and stay with your children. You need to show them what a functional relationship looks like. You need to show them how amazing a father’s love it. You need to encourage them to do the right thing, even when you haven’t yourself. You need to support them – even when they aren’t athletic, even when they are over weight, even when they aren’t macho, even when they are gay.
Black men we need you. You are our fathers – our relationship with you is supposed to inform our relationship with men in the future. How you treat our mothers shows us how we should be treated in the future. You are suppose to protect us from people that want to harm us. You are our brothers. You are our confidants. You are our friends. You are our lovers. You are our husbands.
I hope to marry one of you someday. I hope to have children with one of you someday. I hope to grow old with one of you someday.
I know it’s not easy to be you, but we need you are around. Black men, you are important. You need to realize this and I hope you do before it’s too late.
so for the past month i’ve been bombarded with all these articles and interviews about how highly educated black women are least likely to get married and how if they do they’re gonna get divorced and how there aren’t enough Black men to go around and I have to wonder if this is a stereotype threat. Basically stereotype threat is the fear that you’re going to fulfill stereotypes of your demographic (but only after you’ve heard about it). An example: Black kids do poorly on a standardized test after a researcher mentions that Black kids typically don’t do well on this type of test, another group of black kids does better on the same test – these kids don’t get the lecture about how Black kids do bad on the test. Google scholar it.
Anywhoo, I’m wondering if all this talk about Black women not getting married is becoming a self fulfilling prophecy and if we wouldn’t have been better off it other people weren’t making such a big deal about it. I wonder if the knowledge of and belief in the “threat” of us not getting married ever is (part of) the reason why so few of us are.
Yesterday I did something I’ve been afraid to do all summer – ride my bike on the streets. Yesterday I rode my bike from house to my best friends house and then to the beach.
As you can see by my expert paint skills, the ride took forever. An hour of being scared out of my mind by cars zooming by – ok that’s not true. We spent a large chunk of that time on a bike path, but still. The ride home took more than an hour I’m sure as by the time we made it to Ave A, I was dying.
My body hurts in places that have never hurt before. I’ll be icing for days. But it was worth it. After we got out of Prospect Park, I rode home alone. I made it down Classon – a street with no bike lanes – all by myself.
Now to grow a pair when it comes to men…
p.s. Shout out to Manny and Drew who were very patient with my slow riding and constant whining (and screaming *shame face*).