Monthly Archives: June 2013

Message for Mandiba

Every day I read another report on the condition of Nelson Mandela or falsely claiming South Africa’s beloved Mandiba has died.

I can only imagine his thoughts as he lays in that hospital bed – having done so much and knowing that there is so much yet to be done. Seeing the sadness and grief not only in his family’s eyes but on the faces of everyone who comes in to visit from nurses to dignitaries. He is Mandiba, father and like any family elder it is hard to let them go, hard to imagine life without their presence.

My aunt “Little Nanny” was 94 when she transitioned. She was the last one having out lived parents, siblings, aunts, uncles and cousins. She was the family matriarch. Life without her seemed unimaginable.

After each trip to the hospital she’d look at me and say “I’ve been to the mill and back. Never thought I’d be here this long.” As the trips to the hospital became more frequent, when we got back home she would look at me and say “Michelle, we’vebeen to the mill and back. How many more times do you think we’re going to make this trip?” I’d smile and say “as many times aas you need to make it.”

And like the proverbial comeback kid, each time the doctors said this was the last time, and everyone would gather around to say heartbroken goodbyes, Nanny would take a look at all the faces and decide to hang in there just a little longer. She’d tell me “Gwen needs to get a good car.” She’d ask “How is Fred really? i can tell he is not feeling good.” “You think Terrance and Karol will make it to the altar?” And looking at me say “Who is going to take care of you Michelle? I’m sorry all this landed on your shoulders. We sure have been to the mill and back.”

About a month before her transition, Nanny and I had a talk I told her that her family was going to be ok and all that she had stood for would go on gave her peace of mind and we spent that last month in a love fest of hugs, kisses and laughter.

That last night in hospice, as she struggled with each breath, I kissed her forehead and told her it was ok if she wanted to go home to be with her mom, dad, sister, brothers and husband. We had been to the mill, but this time I could go back by myself and it would be ok. About ten minutes later, Little Nanny drifted off going home to be with the ancestors

If I could visit Nelson Mandela I would kiss him on his forehead, thank him for everything, promise to continue his work. He has been to the mill and back many times but now it is time for us to pick up the message, and continue the work. I wish Mandiba safe passage home to the ancestors. Rest now mighty warrior.

Posted in Black identity, Mandiba, Nelson Mandela, World events | Comments Off

That Afro puff story got my hair all twisted – Rantings of an Afro Puff Warrior

Afro Puff Warrior Woman

Like many African American women I have had a love/hate/love history with my hair. I have worn it long, short, straight, braided, twisted and natural. I have covered it with wigs and had it dyed every shade of red imaginable and even a few shades of blonde. We, my hair and I, have traveled a long way to get to the place of love we share today.

You see I was born that middle child. I was supposed to be the long awaited son but instead they got me. Unlike my older sister with her fine curly “good” hair, I came into the world with a head full of thick, unruly, ‘had a mind of its own’ hair.

If my mother braided it in pig tails, it didn’t lay flat like my sisters. After a few hours of play, it would work its way free from the rubber bands and rise up, so my mother and aunties would say, like “someone had sprinkled baking powder on it.”

When appearance really mattered I would sit between my mother’s or aunt’s knees, my head in a knee-lock vice grip, and have it braided so tight my head would hurt. I’d cry “Take it easy” but my hair was a beast and taming it could not be done by “taking it easy.”

One year there was a big wedding. Relatives came from far and wide. When time came for hair combing I started to cry before my mother even touched me because I knew she was going to pull those braids so tight my toes were going to curl.

Aunt Helen who was in from North Carolina asked me what was wrong to which my sister answered “She doesn’t have ‘good’ hair like me. Mommy has to really comb it hard to make it look nice and it’s going to hurt.” She probably giggled (yes she was that kind of big sister.)

Well Aunt Helen looked at me and said “Come here baby. There’s nothing wrong with this child’s hair. You just have to work with it.” She took the comb and brush from my mother, worked a little hair magic and when she was done I was rocking my first set of Afro Puffs.

When I saw the photo on face book of the smiling little girl with her Afro Puffs above the headline that an Ohio School was banning Afro Puffs and braids I felt a pang in my heart.

Horizon Science Academy in Ohio sent a letter to parents including a ban on some Natural hair styles including Puffs as not in keeping with their dress code.

Seriously in 2013 natural hair banned, lumped in with other personal appearance bans like Mohawks, hair dye and body piercings!!!

Ironically I read this post on the same day my city Detroit, Michigan celebrated the 50^th anniversary of the March in Detroit where Dr. King first gave his I have a dream speech in 1963. We all remember his dream for his four little children (two were little girls) that they would “one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.”

I’m sure if he were alive today; Dr. King would look at that photo of that beautiful child with her puffs and see his own daughters Yolanda and Bernice.

Maybe he’d remember seeing their heads locked in that knee vice grip, remember hearing them cry as their mother or auntie braided or pressed their hair so it would be acceptable to a world where little black girls were repeatedly told they weren’t good enough, weren’t pretty enough.

I’m thinking he’d feel more than a pang in his heart that in 2013 the quintessential pretty black child look, the Afro Puff, along with braids and natural hair would be banned as unacceptable to Horizon Science Academy’s dress code. .

I believe he would see that speaking out against this ban and talking about instilling self-love in our children was part and partial of not being judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character if the dream is to ever be fulfilled.

Don’t get me wrong I’m not pointing the finger solely at Horizon, this decision did not come in a vacuum. We need only look at the community in the mirror with our penchant for assimilation, each generation getting further and further away from being black as we become more multi-racial, people of color to see how any school board could so blindly see this as just a matter of personal appearance on the same level of body piercing.

I bet Dr. King would be mad as hell, not just at Horizon but at us as community for still allowing our beautiful black children to be seen through a lens of beauty that denies our history, culture and inherent African American beauty

When I saw the photo on face book of the smiling little girl with her Afro Puffs, I remembered all those years I thought I was not pretty and some of the questionable choices I’ve made (like the blond hair) trying to fit someone else’s idea of pretty.

I think of all those dollars I spent on hair products trying to tame my hair so I would look “more professional” when trying to get a job, knowing my black skin was already a strike against me.

I think about how it still stung a little, just recently when someone asked me if I combed my beautiful natural hair and how appalled I am that people still ask if they can touch my hair (yes my hair, part of me not IT).

Although my first thought was to twist up my Afro puffs, gas up the car and head down to OHIO, instead I twisted up the puffs, gassed up the car and went over to visit my nieces. The youngest was wearing her puffs too. I told her “I love your puffs.” I gave her a big hug and said YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL!

Posted in Black hair, Black identity, Black women, lgbt, Self imaage, Uncategorized, Women, youth | Comments Off

Life stories can be inspirational in the most unusual ways

The story of Dorothy – a dog that had been horribly abused, rehabilitated and found a forever home – had me thinking about our human condition. We bring baggage from the past into every situation but most significantly into relationships. Are we giving ourselves time to heal, be rehabilitated so we can find our “forever” love homes? Maybe we should come with a warning. To learn more about Dorothy and support the work of the Michigan Humane Society follow this link www.michiganhumane.org/Dorothy

JUNK YARD LOVE (for Dorothy)

You ready for this

Ready for this love of mine

It’s a hard love

Cuz I’ve been loved

Like a junk yard dog

I watched over and protected

For scraps thrown over the fence

I’ve done tricks to amuse

Was told to sit and stay

They just laughed

Turned and walked away

My warm, fuzzy cuteness

Rarely nurtured,

Best suppressed

I growl and snarl

Bristle and bark

I’ll sniff your hand

Then pull way back

But like a junk yard dog

I’m loyal and true

A ride or die woman

Giving my heart to only you

I’m walking that tightrope

Unsure if I’m right or wrong

Victim or perpetrator

Looking for someone

Trying to just hold on

I come with lots of baggage

Really wish it weren’t so

But I got kicked more than petted

Thought you ought to know

Just giving you fair warning

And so I’ll ask again

Are you ready for this love?

A real love that’s hard but true

Cuz I’ve been loved like a junk yard dog

Once I sink my teeth in you

Just saying – I’m all in

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In This Season Of Pride 2013

Even though some cities hold their PRIDE celebrations as early as April, June will always be the official kick-off month for PRIDE celebrations in the Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender community.

This year we certainly have had a lot to celebrate. On the heels of a national election where LGBT rights were included as part of the larger issues facing all Americans by not just a national standard bearer but the President of the United States, it appeared as if our day had finally arrived.

Marriage equality had its day in court and as we await a ruling from the Supreme Court the number of states recognizing same sex marriage has grown to 12. The Defense of Marriage Act (DOMA) might still be on the books but it’s on the ropes headed for a TKO if not by the courts then by individual states taking a stand for the rights of same gender loving couples and their families.

We’ve seen an east coast sweep of Connecticut, Maine, Massachusetts, New Hampshire, New York, Rhode Island, Vermont, Delaware, and Maryland; in-roads to equality in the heartland states of Iowa and Minnesota; and the great state of Washington representing the west coast, as well as in the District of Columbia with Illinois waiting in the wings to welcome same gender loving couples.

Attitudes are changing. High profile personalities who are out like George Takei, Ellen Degeneres, Wade Davis, Anderson Cooper, Jim Parsons, Jim Nabors, and others to name a few and the recent coming out of Robbie Rogers, Brittney Griner, and Jason Collins have moved the dialogue forward immeasurably.

We looked like YOU. We were just like your sons and your daughters. We’d been your heroes on television, in the movies, on the grid iron, on the soccer field and on the basketball courts. And there was Oprah sitting on the couch with Jason Collins and his entire family saying it’s all right. A national aha moment “They’re here. They’re queer. So y’all just need to get over it.” (OK, Oprah didn’t say that but I bet she was thinking it.)

This June we really have something to celebrate as we have our PRIDE marches, picnics and various festivities but it’s not all sunshine and rainbows.

We, Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender Americans are still under attack, at risk and that we must never forget.

Last year thirteen Transgender Americans were murdered and the violence continues with even more deaths including the murders of Kayla Moore and Cemia “CiCi” Dove.

In February, Marco McMillian, a black mayoral candidate, who was also gay, was found on the Mississippi River levee murdered.

And as we prepare to kick-off a month of PRIDE, New York City has been rocked by a series of homophobic attacks including the murder of Marc Carson, a gay man.

Even though we have made advances on the marriage equality front, the greatest percentage of LGBT families lives in areas of the country with the least protections for their families. In a majority of states individuals can still be fired and/or denied housing for being LGBT or perceived to be gay and the fate of the reintroduced Employment Non-Discrimination Act (ENDA) remains uncertain.

Studies show that more and more Americans have evolved on LGBT marriage and equality (some demographic models indicating that if put up for a vote, same-sex marriage would become legal in all but six states by 2020) but it will take more than warm fuzzy feelings about us walking down the aisle and celebrity outings to stop the violence, stop the discrimination, stop the ignorance and put an end to homo and transphobia.

This year, as we begin celebrating our pride across the country, I am filled with not just the audacity of hope but the audacity to believe change is finally going to come. I can feel it. It’s in the air, in our conversations. It’s within our grasp.

But if we want it we have to embrace the good and the bad, the celebration and the outrage, the parties and the politics.

This June, this season of PRIDE, let’s be intentional. Let’s celebrate PRIDE with a purpose. A pride that goes beyond June’s 30 days. A pride, so compelling, so righteous, so just, so contagious, that our equality will no longer be denied.

Even though some cities hold their PRIDE celebrations as early as April, Philadelphia’s Black Pride was held in April; June will always be the official kick-off month for PRIDE celebrations in the Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender community.