I just started a fashion and lifestyle blog...a little lighter, maybe part two of this blog, or maybe I will continue to use this space as my repository for larger and longer musings...
http://spicyannie.blogspot.com/
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Saturday, February 27, 2010
On cultural appropriation
(I originally wrote this as a comment on a website that I frequent. This is something that I think about a lot and I wanted to write an essay about it, just as a way to pull my thoughts together on this issue. But I need to focus my writing on my dissertation, so for now, these hastily written words will have to do. I am sure I will have more to say about it later, and will re-vist it in the future).
I am not really a proponent of the "cultural appropriation" meme. The more I study and learn about cultures the more I realize that there is no "pure" culture. There is no culture that is stagnant and unchanged by the culture of other groups. Our society is increasingly more global....in fact it has always been global. Different African groups, Indian groups, European groups traded with each other and influenced each other. That continues now. Hip hop is global. Classical music is global. Sushi is global. Pizza is global. Dreadlocks are global. Blue jeans are global. Buddha statues are global. Crosses are global. Korans are global.
I also feel that the downside of trying to decide who should perform some types of cultural activities is that we subsequently put people in cultural boxes. In other words, if you are white, you should not do x,y, and z, because those are things that black people do. If you are black, you should not do a,b, and c, because those are things that white people do. I am okay with saying that traditionally, certain groups have tended to do certain things, but the focus on being cultural gatekeepers is problematic.
Now, I do think that there are ways of borrowing from cultures that are more respectful than others...but even then I have a personal problem with trying to dictate where that line is for other people. I know personally, when I see white people with afro wigs on I give them long intense looks...that's just my personal little way of "getting" to them, if their intention is to mock afro hair. But whites with dreads, for intense, is so normalized to me...I don't see that as anything more than white hippie or hipster culture (full disclosure-I tried to meld my South Indian bf's bone straight hair into locks in college). But I am not trying to make my personal stance apply to other individuals.
I am social justice oriented, so mocking a culture is something that I will address. I also don't feel that I can speak for other cultures, particularly non-Afro ones. For instance, I need to listen when indigenous people state that certain things are problematic (not that there is one single indigenous stance).
In short, I tend to err on the side of cultural borrowing and mixing is okay. Cultural appropriation is not bad, imo, but there are more respectful and less respectful ways to do it. That continuum is always being negotiated by the "appropriators" and the "appropriated", and is contextual or situational.
I am not really a proponent of the "cultural appropriation" meme. The more I study and learn about cultures the more I realize that there is no "pure" culture. There is no culture that is stagnant and unchanged by the culture of other groups. Our society is increasingly more global....in fact it has always been global. Different African groups, Indian groups, European groups traded with each other and influenced each other. That continues now. Hip hop is global. Classical music is global. Sushi is global. Pizza is global. Dreadlocks are global. Blue jeans are global. Buddha statues are global. Crosses are global. Korans are global.
I also feel that the downside of trying to decide who should perform some types of cultural activities is that we subsequently put people in cultural boxes. In other words, if you are white, you should not do x,y, and z, because those are things that black people do. If you are black, you should not do a,b, and c, because those are things that white people do. I am okay with saying that traditionally, certain groups have tended to do certain things, but the focus on being cultural gatekeepers is problematic.
Now, I do think that there are ways of borrowing from cultures that are more respectful than others...but even then I have a personal problem with trying to dictate where that line is for other people. I know personally, when I see white people with afro wigs on I give them long intense looks...that's just my personal little way of "getting" to them, if their intention is to mock afro hair. But whites with dreads, for intense, is so normalized to me...I don't see that as anything more than white hippie or hipster culture (full disclosure-I tried to meld my South Indian bf's bone straight hair into locks in college). But I am not trying to make my personal stance apply to other individuals.
I am social justice oriented, so mocking a culture is something that I will address. I also don't feel that I can speak for other cultures, particularly non-Afro ones. For instance, I need to listen when indigenous people state that certain things are problematic (not that there is one single indigenous stance).
In short, I tend to err on the side of cultural borrowing and mixing is okay. Cultural appropriation is not bad, imo, but there are more respectful and less respectful ways to do it. That continuum is always being negotiated by the "appropriators" and the "appropriated", and is contextual or situational.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Regular black
My views on mixed race and multicultural black folks have evolved over time. When I was an undergrad, the Afrocentric, black power sista, I was all about the blackness or the African-ness of everyone being expressed and affirmed. It was in undergrad that I developed my first close ties to any mixed people. Both were black identifying women with black dads and white moms. They were cool people who were all about black progress and really affirmed what I believed at the time: you can have white in your family, but if you are part black, you are black. Period. Mixed folks who identified as mixed or more with their white side were sellouts. Now I am not saying this is what my friends thought, but it was my view. Mixed folks like my friends were cool, others were not.
I went through a lot of changes while in undergrad. I remember reading Alice Walker's thoughts on multiracial identity and how she felt she had to honor all of her ancestors, including the Indian and the white ones that were probably there because of slavery. At the time, I was practicing an African based religious tradition and ancestor worship was part of my practice. I thought deeply about this and realized that perhaps I, too needed to affirm all of my ancestors, not just the black ones. I discussed this with some Afrocentric friends and experienced the first of many attempted silencings by other African Americans on my desire to acknowledge my multiracial ancestry. My one friend shut me down. Solidly. I don't remember what she said, but it was enough to shame me into thinking that perhaps I was not a revolutionary thinker, but a self hating Negro like the rest of the masses.
I identify as African American. But I recognize that inherent in that identity is the understanding that I have mixed ancestry. I know this because of the experiences of blacks historically in this country, but I also know it because of my own family history. I first learned about this as a young child. I grew up in Detroit, but my mom was born and raised in the Southern Arkansas / Northern Louisiana region of the south. One summer, my mom and I traveled south to spend time with her maternal grandmother. Granny Mirdie.Granny Mirdie and her son Grandpa Willie always looked a little "odd" to me. It was something about their coloring, which was dark, but almost red instead of brown, and their white, straight looking hair, that did not fit in with the rest of my family up north.At the time, the majority of my family was rocking gherri curls, so I really had a skewed view of what "normal" was. My mother, however, wore a short natural….really a fade…which provided my extended family with endless comic fodder.
But, back to the southern folks. Now, this was my mother's paternal side, the side which was almost completely in the South. My mother's maternal side was the side that I had grown up around, a side that my mother, an only child, and I, her only child, did not resemble too much. My grandmother, mom's mom, was the eldest in the family, but she was really a half sister to all her siblings. She was a Robinson, while the rest of my family were Washingtons. I will get back to the Robinsons later.
While visiting Granny Mirdie and Grandpa Willie, my mom and I went to visit two of her grandfather's sisters (Grandpa Willie's paternal aunts). I remember sitting on the porch with them and being scared and amazed at the same time. They were small petite old ladies, with really light skin and long straight white hair that hung to their waist. As my mom chatted with them I just stared. They looked like witches to me! And they were white! How could these women be my aunts? When we left the house I asked my mom how could we be related to those white women. She replied that they were not white, they were Indian. I don't remember probing her further. And I think for many years I put it to the back of my mind
As a dark skinned girl growing up in the late 80's and early 90's, I was ridiculed often because of my skin.I got called choco-bliss (after the Hostess snack) blackie, and a whole assortment of names. My parents were anti perm and hair pressing, so I wore my hair in natural braids and ponytails until my middle school years, when I took to daily pressing my hair. I always knew where I fit on the beauty continuum, according to my peers. The light skinned girls with "good hair" were at the top, and I was at the bottom because of my skin. I would look in the mirror and see a really pretty girl, but one who could not be seen as beautiful because of my darkness. But I would look at my thick, below shoulder length hair and, later, my shapely physique, and see that if I played up those attributes, people would recognize my beauty. My folks were not having the tight clothes, so I focused my attention on my hair. If my hair was long, or looked curly, then people would be able to see my beauty.
When I became afrocentric, I let go of the obsession with hair, initially. I cut all my hair off, as my mother had done so many years ago, and focused on the beauty of my dark skin and black features. I fell in love with me.I was a broke college student though, and could not afford the weekly barbershop visits. So I began to let my natural hair grow out. I was completely surprised when my hair began to come in as curly waves. You got "good hair", some family members and friends would exclaim. But I didn't. Good hair was what mixed light skinned girls had. I was African. I started paying attention to my mom's hair, which by now had grown out and was fast turning white, like her father and grandmother…and her Indian great aunts. I noticed how her hair straightened when she put water in it and combed it, while mine curled and waved up. What is going on with your hair? I would ask her. Is it because you are going gray?
I tried to be a nappy missionary, encouraging others to go natural. My extended family would scoff at me. You and your mom got Indian all in your family. You can go natural. We can't. After a while, I stopped trying to get others to accept their natural hair. But I started thinking about my identity, bashfully at first. I was ashamed to even think of myself as anything but African. But my desire for self knowledge trumped my worries of perhaps having some residue of self hatred in me. I asked my mom about those aunts from long ago. "They, and my granddaddy were Creek. I remember some stuff about him, but not much. But there were some Indian things that he did at the homeplace". She was never specific about it though. I know he was a sugar cane farmer and they called him Beet because of it. She desired to know more and so did I, but again the social pressure to be black and only black got to me. Even years later when I was researching the family on ancestry.com and considering DNA testing to find out about our African ancestors, I remember chiding my mom for asking me to look up the Indians too. I remember she stared at me and said, "Why shouldn't I want to know about them? They're my people too".
This was a pivotal moment for me. At that point in my life I had been experiencing a number of people, from different walks of life and different nationalities, asking me where I was from. Mostly they thought I was from the Caribbean or Africa. Sometimes folks would ask me my racial makeup, wanting to know who in my family was non-African American . This was usually in the context of a conversation about hair. I would grudgingly admit that my great grandfather was Indian and the questioner would give me a knowing glance, indicating…yes, THAT is why your hair looks like it does.
During this time I was also trying to come to terms with mixed race and multiracial people and identity. I no longer felt that people who affirmed their mixed heritages were sellouts. But I was still uncomfortable with a lot of what I read about mixed and proud people. They often seemed condescending of mono-racial folks, particularly black people. I felt like they were trying to separate themselves from blacks, and it stung. But I wanted to understand their perspective. I dated a mixed race (white and Chinese- American) man who had been part of the early mixed race movement in the Bay area of the 1990's. He had distanced himself from it because he felt that they wanted people to let go of their colored identity, in his case, his Asian side. He was staunchly pan-Asian. The funny thing is, when talking about his non Asian side, he brought up the Indian heritage that he had via his white father. It turned out that he had an Indian great grandfather as well. We were probably the same percentage Indian, if you will, maybe me more so since there is purported Indian ancestors on not just my mother's paternal side, but also her maternal (the aforementioned Robinson's) and on my paternal side as well. I do not speak of this often because of my lingering reluctance to be labeled as one of those blacks claiming to have "Injun" in the family. I try to stick to the Indians that I know, but I still get labeled.
In various online communities, particularly ones that talk about racial politics, I have tried to engage in discussions about black people with Indian ancestry. I have shared my experiences, one experience in particular when a man attempting to get me to sign a petition asked me about my racial makeup. He was a reddish brown-skinned man, black, but it was obvious to me from his pony tailed wavy hair and facial features, that he had Native ancestry. Still, when he asked me about mine, I tried to dismiss it. He pressed me, and I finally acquiesced about the Creek heritage. he told me that he could see it in my features. Upon sharing that story, a member of an online hair board that I frequent looked at my online photo album, returned to the board and remarked, "I don't know what you are talking about. You look regular black to me". I remember being stunned and feeling silenced. Was I trying to be something that I was not? What was regular black? That thread did not end well. People who identified as having native ancestry were basically called self hating Negros who wanted to find any way possible to claim superiority over non Indian blacks.
I knew that was not the case for me. I love being black /African American. I have been exposed to other black cultures (African, Afro-Latino, Caribbean) and while I appreciate them, I have great pride in African American culture. Its mine. Likewise, I have been exposed somewhat to Native American culture and intellectual spaces. I am interested in them, but they are not me. I'm black. Regular black. Which to me means having a multicultural heritage that should not be ignored. Like Alice Walker, I am going to continue to learn about all of my ancestors, women and men whose lives have led to my life. I am striving to no longer let others make me feel ashamed for acknowledging them.
My views on multiracial identities have and will continue to evolve. It took me seeing both sides of the debate, experiencing them firsthand, to really begin to understand the dilemma people who consider themselves mixed race have to deal with. While my experience is not theirs and theirs is not mine, I am better able to understand their (varied) perspectives. It is this understanding that precludes me from being hypocritical and expecting them to show their loyalty to blacks in particular. The need to self identify is paramount. No one has a right to determine for others what type of black, what type of human, one should be.
I went through a lot of changes while in undergrad. I remember reading Alice Walker's thoughts on multiracial identity and how she felt she had to honor all of her ancestors, including the Indian and the white ones that were probably there because of slavery. At the time, I was practicing an African based religious tradition and ancestor worship was part of my practice. I thought deeply about this and realized that perhaps I, too needed to affirm all of my ancestors, not just the black ones. I discussed this with some Afrocentric friends and experienced the first of many attempted silencings by other African Americans on my desire to acknowledge my multiracial ancestry. My one friend shut me down. Solidly. I don't remember what she said, but it was enough to shame me into thinking that perhaps I was not a revolutionary thinker, but a self hating Negro like the rest of the masses.
I identify as African American. But I recognize that inherent in that identity is the understanding that I have mixed ancestry. I know this because of the experiences of blacks historically in this country, but I also know it because of my own family history. I first learned about this as a young child. I grew up in Detroit, but my mom was born and raised in the Southern Arkansas / Northern Louisiana region of the south. One summer, my mom and I traveled south to spend time with her maternal grandmother. Granny Mirdie.Granny Mirdie and her son Grandpa Willie always looked a little "odd" to me. It was something about their coloring, which was dark, but almost red instead of brown, and their white, straight looking hair, that did not fit in with the rest of my family up north.At the time, the majority of my family was rocking gherri curls, so I really had a skewed view of what "normal" was. My mother, however, wore a short natural….really a fade…which provided my extended family with endless comic fodder.
But, back to the southern folks. Now, this was my mother's paternal side, the side which was almost completely in the South. My mother's maternal side was the side that I had grown up around, a side that my mother, an only child, and I, her only child, did not resemble too much. My grandmother, mom's mom, was the eldest in the family, but she was really a half sister to all her siblings. She was a Robinson, while the rest of my family were Washingtons. I will get back to the Robinsons later.
While visiting Granny Mirdie and Grandpa Willie, my mom and I went to visit two of her grandfather's sisters (Grandpa Willie's paternal aunts). I remember sitting on the porch with them and being scared and amazed at the same time. They were small petite old ladies, with really light skin and long straight white hair that hung to their waist. As my mom chatted with them I just stared. They looked like witches to me! And they were white! How could these women be my aunts? When we left the house I asked my mom how could we be related to those white women. She replied that they were not white, they were Indian. I don't remember probing her further. And I think for many years I put it to the back of my mind
As a dark skinned girl growing up in the late 80's and early 90's, I was ridiculed often because of my skin.I got called choco-bliss (after the Hostess snack) blackie, and a whole assortment of names. My parents were anti perm and hair pressing, so I wore my hair in natural braids and ponytails until my middle school years, when I took to daily pressing my hair. I always knew where I fit on the beauty continuum, according to my peers. The light skinned girls with "good hair" were at the top, and I was at the bottom because of my skin. I would look in the mirror and see a really pretty girl, but one who could not be seen as beautiful because of my darkness. But I would look at my thick, below shoulder length hair and, later, my shapely physique, and see that if I played up those attributes, people would recognize my beauty. My folks were not having the tight clothes, so I focused my attention on my hair. If my hair was long, or looked curly, then people would be able to see my beauty.
When I became afrocentric, I let go of the obsession with hair, initially. I cut all my hair off, as my mother had done so many years ago, and focused on the beauty of my dark skin and black features. I fell in love with me.I was a broke college student though, and could not afford the weekly barbershop visits. So I began to let my natural hair grow out. I was completely surprised when my hair began to come in as curly waves. You got "good hair", some family members and friends would exclaim. But I didn't. Good hair was what mixed light skinned girls had. I was African. I started paying attention to my mom's hair, which by now had grown out and was fast turning white, like her father and grandmother…and her Indian great aunts. I noticed how her hair straightened when she put water in it and combed it, while mine curled and waved up. What is going on with your hair? I would ask her. Is it because you are going gray?
I tried to be a nappy missionary, encouraging others to go natural. My extended family would scoff at me. You and your mom got Indian all in your family. You can go natural. We can't. After a while, I stopped trying to get others to accept their natural hair. But I started thinking about my identity, bashfully at first. I was ashamed to even think of myself as anything but African. But my desire for self knowledge trumped my worries of perhaps having some residue of self hatred in me. I asked my mom about those aunts from long ago. "They, and my granddaddy were Creek. I remember some stuff about him, but not much. But there were some Indian things that he did at the homeplace". She was never specific about it though. I know he was a sugar cane farmer and they called him Beet because of it. She desired to know more and so did I, but again the social pressure to be black and only black got to me. Even years later when I was researching the family on ancestry.com and considering DNA testing to find out about our African ancestors, I remember chiding my mom for asking me to look up the Indians too. I remember she stared at me and said, "Why shouldn't I want to know about them? They're my people too".
This was a pivotal moment for me. At that point in my life I had been experiencing a number of people, from different walks of life and different nationalities, asking me where I was from. Mostly they thought I was from the Caribbean or Africa. Sometimes folks would ask me my racial makeup, wanting to know who in my family was non-African American . This was usually in the context of a conversation about hair. I would grudgingly admit that my great grandfather was Indian and the questioner would give me a knowing glance, indicating…yes, THAT is why your hair looks like it does.
During this time I was also trying to come to terms with mixed race and multiracial people and identity. I no longer felt that people who affirmed their mixed heritages were sellouts. But I was still uncomfortable with a lot of what I read about mixed and proud people. They often seemed condescending of mono-racial folks, particularly black people. I felt like they were trying to separate themselves from blacks, and it stung. But I wanted to understand their perspective. I dated a mixed race (white and Chinese- American) man who had been part of the early mixed race movement in the Bay area of the 1990's. He had distanced himself from it because he felt that they wanted people to let go of their colored identity, in his case, his Asian side. He was staunchly pan-Asian. The funny thing is, when talking about his non Asian side, he brought up the Indian heritage that he had via his white father. It turned out that he had an Indian great grandfather as well. We were probably the same percentage Indian, if you will, maybe me more so since there is purported Indian ancestors on not just my mother's paternal side, but also her maternal (the aforementioned Robinson's) and on my paternal side as well. I do not speak of this often because of my lingering reluctance to be labeled as one of those blacks claiming to have "Injun" in the family. I try to stick to the Indians that I know, but I still get labeled.
In various online communities, particularly ones that talk about racial politics, I have tried to engage in discussions about black people with Indian ancestry. I have shared my experiences, one experience in particular when a man attempting to get me to sign a petition asked me about my racial makeup. He was a reddish brown-skinned man, black, but it was obvious to me from his pony tailed wavy hair and facial features, that he had Native ancestry. Still, when he asked me about mine, I tried to dismiss it. He pressed me, and I finally acquiesced about the Creek heritage. he told me that he could see it in my features. Upon sharing that story, a member of an online hair board that I frequent looked at my online photo album, returned to the board and remarked, "I don't know what you are talking about. You look regular black to me". I remember being stunned and feeling silenced. Was I trying to be something that I was not? What was regular black? That thread did not end well. People who identified as having native ancestry were basically called self hating Negros who wanted to find any way possible to claim superiority over non Indian blacks.
I knew that was not the case for me. I love being black /African American. I have been exposed to other black cultures (African, Afro-Latino, Caribbean) and while I appreciate them, I have great pride in African American culture. Its mine. Likewise, I have been exposed somewhat to Native American culture and intellectual spaces. I am interested in them, but they are not me. I'm black. Regular black. Which to me means having a multicultural heritage that should not be ignored. Like Alice Walker, I am going to continue to learn about all of my ancestors, women and men whose lives have led to my life. I am striving to no longer let others make me feel ashamed for acknowledging them.
My views on multiracial identities have and will continue to evolve. It took me seeing both sides of the debate, experiencing them firsthand, to really begin to understand the dilemma people who consider themselves mixed race have to deal with. While my experience is not theirs and theirs is not mine, I am better able to understand their (varied) perspectives. It is this understanding that precludes me from being hypocritical and expecting them to show their loyalty to blacks in particular. The need to self identify is paramount. No one has a right to determine for others what type of black, what type of human, one should be.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
New Year's Eve
I spent NYE 2009 in the Barra neighborhood (my hood) with a cool group of Americans, Brits and hmm...only 1 Brazilian! We started the evening at my friend's restaurant (she is African American and relocated to Brazil with her husband and two small children a couple of years ago).
After food, drinks, conversation, and photos, we headed out onto Avenida Oceania for fireworks, drinks, and partying.
We watched some Capoeria in the streets too. Some guys hustled me and my friend for donations after we took pictures. That is jeito, or commonplace, in Pelourhino (the old town), but here in Barra? They pissed me off, but I gave some just to keep the peace.
All in all, I had a wonderful time. I was so tired that I slept most of the next 2 days....I am getting old, can't hang like I used too!
After food, drinks, conversation, and photos, we headed out onto Avenida Oceania for fireworks, drinks, and partying.
We watched some Capoeria in the streets too. Some guys hustled me and my friend for donations after we took pictures. That is jeito, or commonplace, in Pelourhino (the old town), but here in Barra? They pissed me off, but I gave some just to keep the peace.
All in all, I had a wonderful time. I was so tired that I slept most of the next 2 days....I am getting old, can't hang like I used too!
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Muse, or I Guess I Just Needed Some Therapy...
I wanna thank you for softening my my shell shocked, calloused heart. This album, even with its crudeness,crassness, and "interesting" depictions of black women, is a musical masterpiece. The bossa nova / tropicalismo, the Motown (Marvin Gaye's Trouble Man instrumental…..that was for me, right?) the subtle use of Estelle, the hard hitting of Nikki Minaj….reminding me of an early Lil' Kim (I heard that bumblebee reference…classic…she knows whose shoulders she standing on)….This album's production style….it just makes me wanna write…I am so inspired by your music…I have found my muse…thank you...
Saturday, December 12, 2009
Today was a good day!
Its about 11 pm and I am laying in a hammock on my balcony that has a (slight) view of the ocean. Actually I may go inside cause I think the mosquitoes are out. Unfortunately, I don't get to spend too much time out here during the day cause of the hot as Hades sun...this is my first Brazilian spring/summer and it is kicking my butt!
But I am enjoying the beach and the hot weather, especially considering I could be experiencing snow and 18 degree temps like my folks in Detroit are. I spent part of the day at the beach watching a swim competition and reading about writing. I had printed out a copy of this series of articles about developing a successful writing practice. I know I tend to wait until I have large amounts of time to sit down and try to write (this blog, in my journal, my creative stuff, and my academic work). Of course, I rarely have large amounts of time. So you can imagine how often I write. So now I have to learn to take smaller amounts of time, daily or almost daily, to write. I think I will like to do academic work in the morning and creative stuff in the evening. I downloaded a writing graph from the author's website (she has a book too). I will officially start this Monday.
I also reacquainted myself with three academic websites: ; http://www.phinished.org/ ; http://www.insidehighered.com/ and www.chronicle.com . I need to utilize the resources available there as I complete this work.
I am reading the book Writing Down the Bones, which takes a Zen approach to writing. I find it very inspiring on a variety of levels. Perhaps I will expound upon that in a later post. There is also a book by the African American writer, Charles Johnson, called Turning the Wheel that I am considering buying. He addresses the intersection of writing, race, and Buddhism. I saw a quote recently that talked about creative people being inspired by other creative people. I can see that working in my life now. The next step is to be productive...
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Catching Up
There was a pretty long gap between my last post in July and the latest ones in December. I have a pretty good reason for that. F. and I stayed in Brazil until August, but I became so ill I really feel blessed that I made it through okay. In the beginning of August I had another stomach episode (even before that I got seasick on the way to an island resort area, but I can't even speak on that cause I get flashbacks...ugh). So I was sick at the start of August, and then I got a little better. Then right before my son's birthday on the 7th, I started to feel very ill, feverish and achy. It got progressively worse, until I found a place for him to be and took a taxi to the hospital. I could barely walk and had started coughing and having problems breathing.
In Brazil you have to put down a 2500 reis deposit (about 1400 USD) when you go to the emergency (at least at the hospital I went to). So after I paid the money and filled out the paperwork, I got to sit for hours while I waited and then had chest xrays, blood tests, and an oxygen treatment. They thought I had denge fever, then pneumonia, but I was eventually diagnosed as having a "lung infection". I am still not convinced that it was not the flu or H1N1. I got antibiotics and was sent home.
Unfortunately, the antibiotics did little. I kept a 103 degree temperature for about a week and really was not 100% I was gonna make it (I am dramatic but it was really bad, man). I emailed my mentor back in the States and gave him instructions to facilitate things for me and my family in the event that I were to become incapacitated. I didn't tell my parents cause I did not want them to worry.
Finally, it was time to go. I really only made it through cause of the kindness of my house guest and some local friends who took care of me and my son. I never felt so helpless before....damn, just thinking about it makes me want to cry. I made it through though, praise God! So, anyway, F. and I arrive home and my parents could see how sick I was ( I had lost my voice for a few days while in Brazil and was still very hoarse plus I coughed so hard it sounded like I was hacking up a lung). Shortly after arriving in the states I went to the MSU clinic (free for students, so I drove the 1.5 hours to go to the doctor...well, my mom drove, but still). The funny thing is, the night before we went to MSU, my throat starting hurting really bad and I had white spots on my tonsils. I thought strep throat (whose horror I had experienced before). My cousin insisted that I gargle with peroxide and the next day the pain was gone but the spots were still there. The doctor diagnosed me with having bronchitis and tonsillitis and gave me another, different course of antibiotics. I was better within a week or so.
So that was the end of my summer in Brazil (Brazilian winter). I will share later some of the really cool things that I experienced during my fall in Detroit. Now I am enjoying winter back in Brazil (Brazilian summer). Reflecting on this post, I think I better be about the business of making sure my contingency plans are in place in case I take ill again (or God forbid, my son does)...
In Brazil you have to put down a 2500 reis deposit (about 1400 USD) when you go to the emergency (at least at the hospital I went to). So after I paid the money and filled out the paperwork, I got to sit for hours while I waited and then had chest xrays, blood tests, and an oxygen treatment. They thought I had denge fever, then pneumonia, but I was eventually diagnosed as having a "lung infection". I am still not convinced that it was not the flu or H1N1. I got antibiotics and was sent home.
Unfortunately, the antibiotics did little. I kept a 103 degree temperature for about a week and really was not 100% I was gonna make it (I am dramatic but it was really bad, man). I emailed my mentor back in the States and gave him instructions to facilitate things for me and my family in the event that I were to become incapacitated. I didn't tell my parents cause I did not want them to worry.
Finally, it was time to go. I really only made it through cause of the kindness of my house guest and some local friends who took care of me and my son. I never felt so helpless before....damn, just thinking about it makes me want to cry. I made it through though, praise God! So, anyway, F. and I arrive home and my parents could see how sick I was ( I had lost my voice for a few days while in Brazil and was still very hoarse plus I coughed so hard it sounded like I was hacking up a lung). Shortly after arriving in the states I went to the MSU clinic (free for students, so I drove the 1.5 hours to go to the doctor...well, my mom drove, but still). The funny thing is, the night before we went to MSU, my throat starting hurting really bad and I had white spots on my tonsils. I thought strep throat (whose horror I had experienced before). My cousin insisted that I gargle with peroxide and the next day the pain was gone but the spots were still there. The doctor diagnosed me with having bronchitis and tonsillitis and gave me another, different course of antibiotics. I was better within a week or so.
So that was the end of my summer in Brazil (Brazilian winter). I will share later some of the really cool things that I experienced during my fall in Detroit. Now I am enjoying winter back in Brazil (Brazilian summer). Reflecting on this post, I think I better be about the business of making sure my contingency plans are in place in case I take ill again (or God forbid, my son does)...
Saturday, December 5, 2009
Its Been A Long Time Since I Left You....
Hello cyberworld! After a long hiatus, I am ready to come back to the blog. I am still trying to figure out exactly how I want to use this space....my musings about life in Brazil, motherhood, dissertation research, and the like will probably be here. I also have been working more on my creative side....I like to think of myself as a bit of a creative intellectual. I am not sure if or when I will share some of my creations, but I may discuss the creative process. I am excited, and ready, I believe, to continue this quest to live a well lived life. So stay tuned....
Sunday, August 2, 2009
Negotiations...the convo I have been dreading...
This morning's convo with my mom via Skype...
Mom: So you are going to be staying with us for 3 months....whoah...how are we gonna manage?
Me: Well, we will have to work it out....but a couple of things. I don't need my coffeemaker, but I do need the microwave.
Mom: I will have to re-arrange the kitchen for it, but I guess it'll be okay.
Me: And also, I must use the shower head. I know you all are afraid of mildew and prefer us to only take baths, but there is no way I can do my hair without the shower. The shower and the microwave, I need compromise on those.
Mom: Well, just shower with the window open and we'll see....your dad doesn't like folks taking showers cause the paint starts peeling, but I guess it will work out.
Me: Fine. So how's grandma?
Mom: She's okay, but she refuses to get a new stove and her oven doesn't work. So I have to fry up all her chicken and fish instead of baking it.
Me: Why don't you just bake it at home and then take it to her house? Its healthier.
Mom: And cook meat in my house!! Oh no!!
Me: Umm, mom...what do you think F. and I are going to do?
Mom: I thought you were going to stop eating meat again.
Me: Well, I plan on it, but F. isn't a vegetarian, and I am not feeding him frozen chicken dinners for three months.
Mom: Well, I hate handling raw meat, but I will have to cook the meat cause you don't know how to handle it without contaminating my kitchen.
Me: Mom, I am a 35 year old woman with a teenage son (not true...I'm 33 and he is 11, but this was my "I'm a grown azz woman" rant) and this is what I have been doing for 15 years now, cooking my own food. I cook healthy meals for my family. I intend to continue cooking for my family.
Mom: Well, we will have to see.
Me: What do you expect us to do?
Mom: *silence
Me: *silence
Mom: Well I guess I will have to go up behind you and re sanitize my kitchen after you are done contaminating it.
Me: Well, if that's what you need to do...
Mom: hmph...
Me: *bratty only child smile
That went well, I think......
Mom: So you are going to be staying with us for 3 months....whoah...how are we gonna manage?
Me: Well, we will have to work it out....but a couple of things. I don't need my coffeemaker, but I do need the microwave.
Mom: I will have to re-arrange the kitchen for it, but I guess it'll be okay.
Me: And also, I must use the shower head. I know you all are afraid of mildew and prefer us to only take baths, but there is no way I can do my hair without the shower. The shower and the microwave, I need compromise on those.
Mom: Well, just shower with the window open and we'll see....your dad doesn't like folks taking showers cause the paint starts peeling, but I guess it will work out.
Me: Fine. So how's grandma?
Mom: She's okay, but she refuses to get a new stove and her oven doesn't work. So I have to fry up all her chicken and fish instead of baking it.
Me: Why don't you just bake it at home and then take it to her house? Its healthier.
Mom: And cook meat in my house!! Oh no!!
Me: Umm, mom...what do you think F. and I are going to do?
Mom: I thought you were going to stop eating meat again.
Me: Well, I plan on it, but F. isn't a vegetarian, and I am not feeding him frozen chicken dinners for three months.
Mom: Well, I hate handling raw meat, but I will have to cook the meat cause you don't know how to handle it without contaminating my kitchen.
Me: Mom, I am a 35 year old woman with a teenage son (not true...I'm 33 and he is 11, but this was my "I'm a grown azz woman" rant) and this is what I have been doing for 15 years now, cooking my own food. I cook healthy meals for my family. I intend to continue cooking for my family.
Mom: Well, we will have to see.
Me: What do you expect us to do?
Mom: *silence
Me: *silence
Mom: Well I guess I will have to go up behind you and re sanitize my kitchen after you are done contaminating it.
Me: Well, if that's what you need to do...
Mom: hmph...
Me: *bratty only child smile
That went well, I think......
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Looking Back and Looking Foward
I saw this on another blog and thought it would be an interesting activity to do so....
20 years ago: 1989: age 13-14
I had just discovered the difference between wannabees and jiggaboos (via Spike Lee's School Daze). Bratty self-hating, I mean, poor, misguided classmates labeled themselves the former and me the latter. I took ownership of my giggaboo-ness and relished in the thought of going to my highly selective college preparatory high school (Yay Renaissance!) and leaving my classmates behind. To be young, gifted, and black!!!
15 years ago: 1994: age 18-19
Sophmore year in college. I discovered Iyanlya Vanzant, Ifa, and natural hair. Cut my apl (arm pit length) straight, relaxed hair off and determined that my beauty went beyond my hair. had a disasterous and (mainly emotionally) abusive relationship that resulted in both the worst semester of my undergraduate academic career and (the next semester) one of the best (dad said to shape up or come home). So I dumped the "zero" and hit the books.
10 years ago: 1999: age 23-24
Finished my post-BA teaching internship. A single mom engaged to my high school sweetheart (not my son's father). Trying to fit in the upwardly mobile buppie box, but the revolutionary rebel in me was itching to get out. Ended up breaking up with my fiancee and joining the Shrines of the Black Madonna.
5 years ago: 2004: age 28-29
Master's degree in Library and Information Science under my belt, living on my own terms with my son, working as a school librarian, a job I loved in a place I loved with (some) people that I couldn't stand. Making moves to get into a doctoral program....somewhere. A couple of disasterous relationships...lessons learned....
3 years ago: 2006: age 30-31
In my PhD program, learning that finding a community to connect with can be hard. Feeling happy with my academic life but dissatisfied with my social and personal life.
1 year ago: 2008 age 32-33
Spinning too many plates-field instructor, course instructor, research assistant, while writing a dissertation proposal, fellowship proposals, prepping for part two of my comprhensive exams and battling racist teachers and administrators hell bent on destroying my young black boy. Just reflecting on all of that makes me sick to my stomach... *humming "How I Got Ovah"...notice, no social or personal life mentioned.
Yesterday
Attended a workshop at the local university in Salvador da Bahia. Got a potentially (quality of) life altering proposition, attended the unofficial opening day of a friend's resturant.
Today
Welcomed a houseguest into my home for a few weeks. Worked on a social network site for an international organization. Washed some linens. Planning on going to Pelhourinho. Later going to the official opening day of a friend's restaurant. Calling parents (before they sendEmbassay after me). Making a pro-con list for the aforementioned proposition.
Tomorrow
Going to the beach early. Going grocery shopping. Calling grandma. Practicing Portuguese. Planning my week (including Friday, F's B-day).
In the next 5 years
I will: Finish my degree. Get a university job or another job that is fufilling. Return to the D for some period of time and helping out. Dating, falling in love, getting married and having another child (a girl has to keep hope alive, right?). Helping my son navigate through middle school, high school, and the college selection process (yikes). Traveling more, but finding a place to put down roots.
20 years ago: 1989: age 13-14
I had just discovered the difference between wannabees and jiggaboos (via Spike Lee's School Daze). Bratty self-hating, I mean, poor, misguided classmates labeled themselves the former and me the latter. I took ownership of my giggaboo-ness and relished in the thought of going to my highly selective college preparatory high school (Yay Renaissance!) and leaving my classmates behind. To be young, gifted, and black!!!
15 years ago: 1994: age 18-19
Sophmore year in college. I discovered Iyanlya Vanzant, Ifa, and natural hair. Cut my apl (arm pit length) straight, relaxed hair off and determined that my beauty went beyond my hair. had a disasterous and (mainly emotionally) abusive relationship that resulted in both the worst semester of my undergraduate academic career and (the next semester) one of the best (dad said to shape up or come home). So I dumped the "zero" and hit the books.
10 years ago: 1999: age 23-24
Finished my post-BA teaching internship. A single mom engaged to my high school sweetheart (not my son's father). Trying to fit in the upwardly mobile buppie box, but the revolutionary rebel in me was itching to get out. Ended up breaking up with my fiancee and joining the Shrines of the Black Madonna.
5 years ago: 2004: age 28-29
Master's degree in Library and Information Science under my belt, living on my own terms with my son, working as a school librarian, a job I loved in a place I loved with (some) people that I couldn't stand. Making moves to get into a doctoral program....somewhere. A couple of disasterous relationships...lessons learned....
3 years ago: 2006: age 30-31
In my PhD program, learning that finding a community to connect with can be hard. Feeling happy with my academic life but dissatisfied with my social and personal life.
1 year ago: 2008 age 32-33
Spinning too many plates-field instructor, course instructor, research assistant, while writing a dissertation proposal, fellowship proposals, prepping for part two of my comprhensive exams and battling racist teachers and administrators hell bent on destroying my young black boy. Just reflecting on all of that makes me sick to my stomach... *humming "How I Got Ovah"...notice, no social or personal life mentioned.
Yesterday
Attended a workshop at the local university in Salvador da Bahia. Got a potentially (quality of) life altering proposition, attended the unofficial opening day of a friend's resturant.
Today
Welcomed a houseguest into my home for a few weeks. Worked on a social network site for an international organization. Washed some linens. Planning on going to Pelhourinho. Later going to the official opening day of a friend's restaurant. Calling parents (before they sendEmbassay after me). Making a pro-con list for the aforementioned proposition.
Tomorrow
Going to the beach early. Going grocery shopping. Calling grandma. Practicing Portuguese. Planning my week (including Friday, F's B-day).
In the next 5 years
I will: Finish my degree. Get a university job or another job that is fufilling. Return to the D for some period of time and helping out. Dating, falling in love, getting married and having another child (a girl has to keep hope alive, right?). Helping my son navigate through middle school, high school, and the college selection process (yikes). Traveling more, but finding a place to put down roots.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
What I Want To Do
sing. sew. cook. bake. swim. surf. garden. can. preserve. take photos. decoupage. write. travel. read. speak multiple languages. do yoga. meditate. clean. de-clutter. simplify life. lose weight. build muscle. embrace beauty. develop style. grow afro hair long. date. fall in love. make love. marry. conceive. give birth. mother. mentor. help Detroit. educate. conserve. save money. save resources. socialize...
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Rio
I have spent the last few weeks traveling and enjoying the holidays. Sao Joao, a regional festival, just ended, and Thursday is Bahian independence day, so after this weekend things should be back to normal. I am kind of in a funny place right now, but this too shall pass. In the meantime, I am joining a gym so that I can get some regular exercise and I am hiring someone to do some cleaning and maybe cooking as well. I have not decided on the cooking part because I see preparing meals as a kind of spiritual practice and I would rather do it myself. I would rather do the cleaning too, but I kind of suck at it and it needs to be done....
Anyway, here are some photos from our recent visit to Rio..... we did not do as much touristy stuff because I was conferencing, but I plan on returning for the New Year's season so I can ring in 2010 on the beach!!!
On the road to the urban rain forest in the middle of Rio
View of the city
View of O Cristo
F. smelling the lilies (my favorite flower)
Cool tree
I won't chase waterfalls, but I'll stand by them...
Anyway, here are some photos from our recent visit to Rio..... we did not do as much touristy stuff because I was conferencing, but I plan on returning for the New Year's season so I can ring in 2010 on the beach!!!
On the road to the urban rain forest in the middle of Rio
View of the city
View of O Cristo
F. smelling the lilies (my favorite flower)
Cool tree
I won't chase waterfalls, but I'll stand by them...Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Fulbright Limbo Part 2
I am out of Fulbright limbo.....I got the award!!! Just found out that I am now a principal candidate...so I have to turn in the paperwork and then its set....what a game changer....what a blessing....asè!!!!
Monday, June 8, 2009
Some randomness (1)
F. and I have been here for about 3 weeks now (seems like longer than that) and we have not ventured out too much due to my sick episodes and me needing to get some work done. We are heading out to Rio for a week and I hope to do some exploring while there (even though this is a business trip too...I need to travel for pleasure...). I thought I'd share a little bit of our day to day in Salvador....we spend a good amount of time on the beach....
We also spend a lot of time in restaurants....one of my favorite meals is moqueca de camarao with vatapa (shrimp stew with a manioc paste dish)...
I am enjoying getting re-acquainted with my favorite snack food....
Amendoims Japones (Japanese style peanuts...do they eat these in Japan?)
We even made it out to Pelourinho on Saturday and the Cidade Baixa (Lower City) today. We were too busy trying to not step in urine to take pics in Cidade Baixa (they need some porto potties in this area for real), but here we are standing in the area that Olodum performs in twice a week....a nearby cafe serves iced cappuccinos and F. just had to have one....
We ran into the owner of Sankofa African Bar (I met him last year) and he told us that they now serve African cuisine for lunch and dinner...there is also a culinary school that serves Bahian food in the neighborhood, so we will definitely be back...
F. and I are both taking language classes as well. His pronunciation is spot-on, according to the teacher, and I am challenging myself by trying to read "Pedagogy of the Oppressed" and "City of God" in the original Portuguese....Freire's "Pedagogia do Oprimido" is easier than Lins' "Cidade de Deus"....I honestly only half understand the latter, but it feels cool to be reading a novel in a language besides English, lol!!! Its storming now, and my son claims he is starving, so I gotta make some moves....I will try to do something adventurous while in Rio...stay tuned!!!
We also spend a lot of time in restaurants....one of my favorite meals is moqueca de camarao with vatapa (shrimp stew with a manioc paste dish)...
I am enjoying getting re-acquainted with my favorite snack food....
Amendoims Japones (Japanese style peanuts...do they eat these in Japan?)
We even made it out to Pelourinho on Saturday and the Cidade Baixa (Lower City) today. We were too busy trying to not step in urine to take pics in Cidade Baixa (they need some porto potties in this area for real), but here we are standing in the area that Olodum performs in twice a week....a nearby cafe serves iced cappuccinos and F. just had to have one....
We ran into the owner of Sankofa African Bar (I met him last year) and he told us that they now serve African cuisine for lunch and dinner...there is also a culinary school that serves Bahian food in the neighborhood, so we will definitely be back...
F. and I are both taking language classes as well. His pronunciation is spot-on, according to the teacher, and I am challenging myself by trying to read "Pedagogy of the Oppressed" and "City of God" in the original Portuguese....Freire's "Pedagogia do Oprimido" is easier than Lins' "Cidade de Deus"....I honestly only half understand the latter, but it feels cool to be reading a novel in a language besides English, lol!!! Its storming now, and my son claims he is starving, so I gotta make some moves....I will try to do something adventurous while in Rio...stay tuned!!!
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Half rainbows and settling in
These past few days have been pretty good. I set up Portuguese tutoring sessions for F. and me, found a grocery store that I am comfortable with, did some document translation (yes, I do work from time to time), and spent an evening on the beach listening to two free concerts just a block from each other. We never did get cable, but oh well. Hence the half rainbow.
Actually this morning is the second time that I've seen a half rainbow out over the ocean. It just reminds me of how blessed I am to be able to have such a view outside my window. Coming from urban and suburban Michigan, ocean views are, well, non-existent, and at my family's pay grade, lake and river views are something you get while vacationing. So it is indeed a privilege to stay in a place that overlooks the ocean. Know that I am settling in I am finally beginning to sit back and enjoy my surroundings....my locale.
Anyway, listening to the band, which had a woman playing keyboard, btw, took me back. They sung in English and Portuguese, and the crowd was funky. Lots of American college students (cool ones, not rowdy, drunk ones) European tourists, Brazilian kids, other locals, and a number of families with kids (F. didn't stand out too much, even though his style of dress marks us as American...he will not let go of the crisp white gym shoes and the baggy clothes). We eventually left because F. needed a bathroom break (those port-a-potties are NOT the stuff) and then it started raining. It was funny watching dozens of partiers cram under vendor umbrellas and shop canopies. Everyone was so calm. I try to imagine this scene in the U.S....like at Hart Plaza in downtown Detroit during a festival. Not sure how it would play out. Oh well...it was cool here. I look forward to a casual Saturday in the city. Going to do more transcribing, hit the mall for a few things, then maybe the beach....peace...
Actually this morning is the second time that I've seen a half rainbow out over the ocean. It just reminds me of how blessed I am to be able to have such a view outside my window. Coming from urban and suburban Michigan, ocean views are, well, non-existent, and at my family's pay grade, lake and river views are something you get while vacationing. So it is indeed a privilege to stay in a place that overlooks the ocean. Know that I am settling in I am finally beginning to sit back and enjoy my surroundings....my locale.
Last night was particularly fun. I met up with an American colleague from JAPER (US-Brazil Joint Action Plan Civil Society Committee) and we hung out on the beach, listened to forro (like Brazilian country music...sort of), rock, and reggae, and talked about race relations in Brazil and the U.S. I realized how much I missed having a deep and engaging conversation with an adult. I need to do it more often. My son agrees. Once my colleague and I parted ways, F. and I continued to hang out. The reggae band was hot, and I was really getting into music. I told my son that his dad and I became a couple while playing in a reggae /Afro-pop band while in college. I can't believe he never heard of the Mau Maus (that was our name, do not take offense). We were a collection of Africans, Caribbeans, Asians, and N. Americans (me). I was a back up singer and dancer, known along with a South African woman as the I-2's (take off of the I-3's from Bob Marley's band...it also is a type of immigration document too, isn't it? Just realized that....).
Mau Mau back in the day
Mau Mau back in the dayAnyway, listening to the band, which had a woman playing keyboard, btw, took me back. They sung in English and Portuguese, and the crowd was funky. Lots of American college students (cool ones, not rowdy, drunk ones) European tourists, Brazilian kids, other locals, and a number of families with kids (F. didn't stand out too much, even though his style of dress marks us as American...he will not let go of the crisp white gym shoes and the baggy clothes). We eventually left because F. needed a bathroom break (those port-a-potties are NOT the stuff) and then it started raining. It was funny watching dozens of partiers cram under vendor umbrellas and shop canopies. Everyone was so calm. I try to imagine this scene in the U.S....like at Hart Plaza in downtown Detroit during a festival. Not sure how it would play out. Oh well...it was cool here. I look forward to a casual Saturday in the city. Going to do more transcribing, hit the mall for a few things, then maybe the beach....peace...
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Finally
I have been wanting to blog for about a week now, but my Internet access has been sketchy, at best. F. and I made it to Salvador last Tuesday morning, and spent the first two days just getting acclimated. We arrived during one of the most rainy periods in a while, and if you have ever tried to battle rain coming off of an ocean, you know who is winning that battle. Needless to say my straight hairdo was one of the casualties of the rainstorm.
One of my umbrellas was another. It is so funny that you can see umbrella carcasses left abandoned on the streets. I, being the conscientious steward of the earth that I am (or at least try to be) traded mine in at a local store for a new one.
F. and I braved the rains for a number of days, then became impatient when we had to wait Wed., Thursday, Friday, and Saturday for the folks to come to install Internet (evidently in Brazil, saying you will arrive at 11, then 1, then 5 really means that you will not come at all…and you thought CPT was bad…)Then on Saturday night I started feeling a little, unwell….by Sunday morning I was full fledged sick…either Traveler's Stomach or some type of food poisoning, I'm not sure which. I thought I would self medicate with some ginger root tea and watermelon,
but that did not work out to well. I will spare you the details, but it was not pretty. I think the culprit was some horrific pizza that I bought at the Bompreco (a chain owned by Walmart). From now on, I am going to be even more selective about what I buy and where I buy it from. I will bite the bullet and shop at Pereni, a more upscale store (think Whole Food's, Papa Joe's, or Trader Joe's). I also might start eating fish and seafood when I go out cause I am tired of eating cheese pastries (the only non-meat dish I can find besides beans and rice). F. was such a dear the whole time, helping me out the best he could, not complaining when all I could do was make some beans and rice for dinner. He even was a surrogate mom, insisting that I eat something even though I did not feel like it. I forced myself to eat five spoonfuls of food for his benefit…didn't stay down long though….TMI…I know.
Monday and today were just perfect. There is nothing like being on your sickbed that makes you appreciate being well. I was able to keep food down which allowed me to regain my strength. The sun was shining brilliantly and folks were flocking to the beach. F. and I took a stroll along the beach and then ate lunch at a restaurant.
While we were there, Felipe, the rental agent, called me to say that the Internet folk were at my building waiting for me. I told him I would come back and he responded "okay, in an hour?". I thought that was odd since I had told him I was maybe 15 minutes away. But I decided to take my time and we returned home about 30 minutes later and….no Internet guys. So I don't know if it is the Brazilian way (jethino) to say one thing that is….an exaggeration (I won't say lie) of the truth. A Brazilian guy I met recently said as much, but would like to think that when people are handling business they handle business. Perhaps I as
k for too much. But after being home for 15 minutes or so Felipe calls to say that the guys are downstairs and they shortly come up to begin installation. They got things together and even offered to hook up satellite tv. We will see if that happens....
We did see a little taste of home....
"Detroit Environmental Health"
Evidently, the name of the local pest control company is "Detroit". Hmph.
Hopefully, we can make it to the beach tomorrow. We have spent a little time there...
I have an aversion to sand...not a good thing, since my son loves the beach and we are 4-8 minutes away from the beach, depending on the elevator.
View of one of Barra's beachs from our apartment. Beleza!
Evidently, the name of the local pest control company is "Detroit". Hmph.
Hopefully, we can make it to the beach tomorrow. We have spent a little time there...
I have an aversion to sand...not a good thing, since my son loves the beach and we are 4-8 minutes away from the beach, depending on the elevator.
View of one of Barra's beachs from our apartment. Beleza!
Monday, May 18, 2009
Living in Detroit
(pics here now)
I am only here for a few days before I head off to Brazil, but I feel like I have a bit of culture shock…in more ways than one. I packed up my apartment, put everything into storage….a 10 x 25 place that is pretty full (even with my pruning I still have a lot of ish… and turned in the keys. So now I have been driving around Detroit….south-eastern Michigan more specifically…as I spent Friday and Saturday in Ferndale, Madison Heights, Royal Oak, and other suburban cities. I want to reacclimate myself to this place that I will call home for the next year…but I feel so alien. Part of it is cause the area has changed a lot in four years. Not that I have not been back home on occasion, but visiting for 2-3 days once a month does not give you the flavor of an area. The "for sale" and "for rent" signs are rampant in the burbs, as are the empty storefronts. Even in tony places like Birmingham you see empty homes….empty strip malls in Royal Oak.
I am only here for a few days before I head off to Brazil, but I feel like I have a bit of culture shock…in more ways than one. I packed up my apartment, put everything into storage….a 10 x 25 place that is pretty full (even with my pruning I still have a lot of ish… and turned in the keys. So now I have been driving around Detroit….south-eastern Michigan more specifically…as I spent Friday and Saturday in Ferndale, Madison Heights, Royal Oak, and other suburban cities. I want to reacclimate myself to this place that I will call home for the next year…but I feel so alien. Part of it is cause the area has changed a lot in four years. Not that I have not been back home on occasion, but visiting for 2-3 days once a month does not give you the flavor of an area. The "for sale" and "for rent" signs are rampant in the burbs, as are the empty storefronts. Even in tony places like Birmingham you see empty homes….empty strip malls in Royal Oak.
One interesting and cool thing that I noticed was in Oakland Mall. Growing up, Oakland Mall was one of "those" suburban malls where black folk weren't looked at too kindly. Over the years it got more comfortable to be there, and it was better than Northland which had been overrun by teenagers and gaudy, ghetto-fab shops (which I was all into during my younger years). I went to Oakland on Saturday to get my eyebrows arched and a pedicure (special treats for me with my doctoral student time and financial restrictions). There were Middle Eastern people (possibly Chaldean), Muslims, Indians, black folk, white folk, Latinos, Asians…j
ust an extremely diverse crowd. Now, for the most part, people were with their "own kind" but I did notice a black teenage girl handing with her ???Latino??? or Middle Eastern friend (she may have been bi-racial)….they looked like they were into the skater scene…tres cool! I saw two interracial couples….both black men, one with a white woman and one with a Asian woman. A few groups of teenagers were multiracial…and this one white g
uy with locks and some interesting get-up was walking around the mall barefoot….I wish I could of gotten a picture…evidently it is not against the rules to walk around barefoot cause he passed the security guard and the guard (a black man) did not even blink an eye…yes I was doing a lot of people watching at the mall today…I find malls to be excellent places to just sit and observe…
I felt a bit of role reversal on Saturday as well…many of my friends and family know that I am extremely pro-nappy, and have been since 1994. Well, on Friday I went to a salon and came out looking like this…
(sorry...pic later...just imagine me with straight hair...I look like a mix between Gabrielle Union and Queen Latifah)
***Here are the pics...see the resemblance....okay, maybe not***
Many folks who have only gotten to know me in the past few years may be shocked, but the reality is, I am not anti-straight hair…not 100%, and I have been known to straighten on occasion. I actually got into a bit of a heated discussion with my hairdresser about the merits of and problems with water and heat when it comes to black hair. I decided to slow my row since I WAS paying her to straighten my hair, so I couldn't quite argue that pressing combs were the debbil….so, I had my hair straightened, mainly so I could wear a stretched braid-out and to let my hair gradually kink back up….I prefer my hair bigger and curly; flat and straight doesn't feel like "me".
So I go run errands on Saturday, and it was interesting how people related to me! The girl that did my eyebrows tried to engage me in a convo about the high price of hair weaves…I had to tell her that I had no idea what she was talking about. She later let me know that I had the type of hair women are paying for…like baby doll hair, she said…. I think I did say thank you in response to all of the complements she gave me, but I did feel a bit uneasy (I try, as a rule, to NOT say thank you to statements like, oh your hair is so long, curly, nice texture, etc….but WILL say thank you to statements like…your hair is pretty….the personal is so political when it comes to black hair)
As I left the mall I crossed paths with this sister with long, semi-manicured locks…I usually am able to catch a fellow nappies' eye, but she averted her glance….
Later I sat in a restaurant near two older black women. One was a natural (small fro) and another had this short curly thing going on (not sure if it was natural or natural-esque). I attempted to catch their eyes and smile, but they, too, did not look my way. Now, I usually smile at black folk, particularly black women (I smile at other folks too, but my black liberation days have conditioned me to smile at sistern and brethern). I really felt as though they were shunning me cause I was not "one of them". Now, of course, I have no idea what they were thinking or not thinking regarding me, but I know that hair gives people impressions of you. I am used to my hair saying certain things about me, whether or not they are true. I kind of like the image that people have of me…the earthy, intellectual, conscious. I don't care for people classifying me as militant or racially intolerant (most people in real life know that is SOOOO far from the truth). I like the black aesthetic and I like the culture that I come from and the global African diasporan culture. Wearing my hair straight has been a culture shock for me….first, I do like it…somewhat. Second, I feel really guilty for liking it. Third, I don't like the way I felt alienated from sistas simply because of my hair. Fourth, I wonder if women who wear their hair straight feel alienated when around natural sistas? Now I know the answer to that; many do, cause many of US (natural sistas) do have preconceived notions of women who straighten their hair. This hair thing is deep and I am sure it will be revisted later, since hair is a mini-obsession of mine. Its late though, and I need to get up early so I can go to the Detroit Flower Show!!! Will blog later...
Sunday, May 10, 2009
One week left, on being ABD, and a 12 year veteran...
Twelve Years
Well, maybe more like 10 or 11 years....this is my 10th Mother's Day as an actual mother! I can't believe it sometimes how fast time flies...I mean, while it doesn't seem like just yesterday that I was bringing F. home, it also doesn't seem like I should really be the mom of an 11 year old...in 6 or so years he will be off to college and I will be an empty nester (maybe). But in the interim, I have the most challenging years ahead....the teenage years! I am somewhat looking forward to it...I already enjoy the fact that I can now talk to him about social issues, religion, and life in general in a way that I couldn't years before (well, I did, but I am not sure he understood everything at 8.....not sure he understands it all now....or if I even do...). A little part of me is even considering a small run at a boarding school (didn't Barack go to boarding school for a bit?...maybe not, but still...). I want to give him some really unique experiences...the most unique (for a young African American urban male of a single mom) is the opportunity to live HERE for 3 months......
Barra area of Salvador da Bahia, Brazil
Which leads me to....One Week Left
So right now I am packing things up for storage and packing our suitcases to leave. I have vowed that we will each get one suitcase for clothes, we will have one suitcase for household necessities, like my hair products, my skin care products, my yoga equipment....you know, necessities like that. One suitcase will be for my research stuff (since I am supposed to be doing work down there) and then backpacks and a carry on bag....as I am writing this I am thinking that maybe we will not need backpacks AND carry ons....if we pack right. So I feel that I am on target for getting us set by Wednesday when the movers come (I tried to solicit help from all the *ahem* men I know....to no avail....guess I should of played nice with the exes...so daddy dear offered to chip in for movers (I wonder if the fact that, at my old age, I am still a daddy's girl is one of the reasons why I'm still single). So my home looks like this now...
In the midst of it all, I still need to finish up grading and stuff for my class, write a couple of letters of recommendation, and file some paperwork, cause as of May 7th, I am.....
ABD!!!! (All But Dissertation)
I am only going to allow myself to celebrate that for about a week or so more, cause it is not a place to get stuck at, but, darn it, its been four years in the making! The process has been slow, but steady, with no major bumps in the road, so for that I am greatful. Now I have to really forge ahead and not get sidetracked in Brazil or once I return home to Detroit. It'll be different doing my work away from campus, but I am hoping that the change of scenery will do F. and I both some good. I intend to work really hard M-F and then have a social life on the weekends. I am not planning on running the streets all the time, but I just want some balance in my life, balance that has been missing these last four years. Again, university had been real good to me, but it is just time to go home and finish. The goal is one year from now!!!! In the meantime, I've got a lot to keep me busy...back to work.....
Friday, April 17, 2009
Fulbright Limbo
So today I finally got notice about my Fulbright DDRA application. I am an alternate. That means that if an awardee declines the fellowship or if the program gets more money, then I may get the award, depending on where I am on the alternate list. So I am still not 100% sure if I am going to be in Brazil for 3 months or 10 months. It looks like a 70% chance of it being 3 months, since about 1/3 of alternates eventually get awards. The funny thing is, this is the story of my life. I have been the alternate on a number of things, McNair /SROP, which changed the course of my life by introducing me to the world of graduate education; my Master's fellowship program that I did not get into at first cause I was too new of a teacher and they wanted seasoned professionals; and now this.
I have a feeling it just might come through. I am going to try to practice not-wanting, a Zen concept. I was actually practicing it until early this morning, when I started actively begging the universe to let me get in and to NOT make me an alternate cause I did not want to continue the uncertainty of the past few months. The universe is a funny place though. I know two things (well hopefully more than two).
1. I would not call it law of attraction, but I do believe in actualizing what you want by speaking it into existence. Maybe just positive thinking, but I do live my life trying to be as positive as possible...I will have to expand on that later, but it works.
2. Vehemently rejecting certain things is a surefire way to get that thing to happen. This is why I know in the back of my mind that I will end up with a child in college and another in diapers. I just know. This is also why I ended up an alternate.
Now of course I don't really know why this or any other situation turned out the way it did. I suppose my mix of beliefs leads me to think of karma and some Divine plan that is going to work out for the best. I have been very successful at turning stumbling blocks into stepping stones...my best works have been born out of turmoil and disappointment. After I was rejected from McNair initially cause of my gpa I worked so hard that I got the highest gpa of my undergrad career the next semester while taking 18 credits (12 is full time). The director of the program called me at home to tell me my grades and to invite me to join the program and the rest is history (thanks Tay!). I enrolled into the Master's program anyway after my initial rejection and was invited to join the cohort by the professors who saw what a promising student I was. They even retroactively paid for my courses that I had paid for out of pocket. And now I am still going to Brazil to do my work, and even if I am "only" there for three months I have already decided that one day I WILL be a Fulbrighter!
And so it is....
I have a feeling it just might come through. I am going to try to practice not-wanting, a Zen concept. I was actually practicing it until early this morning, when I started actively begging the universe to let me get in and to NOT make me an alternate cause I did not want to continue the uncertainty of the past few months. The universe is a funny place though. I know two things (well hopefully more than two).
1. I would not call it law of attraction, but I do believe in actualizing what you want by speaking it into existence. Maybe just positive thinking, but I do live my life trying to be as positive as possible...I will have to expand on that later, but it works.
2. Vehemently rejecting certain things is a surefire way to get that thing to happen. This is why I know in the back of my mind that I will end up with a child in college and another in diapers. I just know. This is also why I ended up an alternate.
Now of course I don't really know why this or any other situation turned out the way it did. I suppose my mix of beliefs leads me to think of karma and some Divine plan that is going to work out for the best. I have been very successful at turning stumbling blocks into stepping stones...my best works have been born out of turmoil and disappointment. After I was rejected from McNair initially cause of my gpa I worked so hard that I got the highest gpa of my undergrad career the next semester while taking 18 credits (12 is full time). The director of the program called me at home to tell me my grades and to invite me to join the program and the rest is history (thanks Tay!). I enrolled into the Master's program anyway after my initial rejection and was invited to join the cohort by the professors who saw what a promising student I was. They even retroactively paid for my courses that I had paid for out of pocket. And now I am still going to Brazil to do my work, and even if I am "only" there for three months I have already decided that one day I WILL be a Fulbrighter!
And so it is....
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
I'm Back
Well, I have returned to resurrect this space in preparation for my transition from mid Michigan to SE MI and then Brazil...and then back...I have about 5 weeks or so left, and lots to do. I have been promising to blog about my trip this summer and I think that the best way to keep that promise is to start blogging now. I am still in the process of becoming what I already am, but the neat and orderly girl within me has not manifested herself yet.
Something is happening though. I keep losing and gaining the same five lbs. but I feel like I am finally beginning to love my body. I just decided to really focus on being nurturing to my body, which, while imperfect, is strong and healthy. I am doing a number of practices (more on that later)that are designed to keep me balanced and I just feel a sense of calmness, even in the midst of all the uncertainty and turbulence in my life. I am in a good place, and even if I wake up tomorrow depressed, I know that it will pass...
Enough for now....see you soon...
Something is happening though. I keep losing and gaining the same five lbs. but I feel like I am finally beginning to love my body. I just decided to really focus on being nurturing to my body, which, while imperfect, is strong and healthy. I am doing a number of practices (more on that later)that are designed to keep me balanced and I just feel a sense of calmness, even in the midst of all the uncertainty and turbulence in my life. I am in a good place, and even if I wake up tomorrow depressed, I know that it will pass...
Enough for now....see you soon...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
