Archive for March, 2009

Santa Claus, The Tooth Fairy and Reverse Discrimination

Around the second grade, I leaped from my warm bed, one Christmas morning, and in my pjs, ran to my brother’s room to give him a shake, without saying a word, our feet scurried off to the living room where my sisters and brothers had gone off in the woods and brought home the biggest tree they could find. I remember them dragging the great tree in and my sister delegating (her usual job) where it would sit and which ornaments would be hung where. I curled up with the scent of pine that hung in the air for days after.

I remember bursting through the door, where we both stood in utter horror and amazement to find only the presents we had wrapped for family members, aunts, uncles, friends, etc. No dollies, no bells, no bright shiny rumpa tum tums.

Shocked beyond measure, we raced to the bedside of momma and daddy. Momma, we gushed, Santa didn’t even come last night, no, this couldn’t be true, this wasn’t happening, certainly we did not awake too early because the sun was already up. Surely a thief was in our midst.
Momma turned over heavily and with sound sleep in her voice said. “He didn’t? (I began to disbelieve) Momma knew EVERYTHING, including our secret hiding places, and the dead rat under the can outside.

Maybe he left your presents somewhere else???

But where? we, searching the ceiling and the curtains at the window to see a wave of santa’s hand and his big ho ho ho and to all , have a good night.

Well, he must have left them***********in the closet************* (belief gone)

As I played with my dollie, and my whatever I got that Christmas, I knew, for me, that Christmas, forever more, would never be the same. That I had been living a lie all of my 6 or 7 years and that a great ‘ruse’ had been perpetrated, against me, for, my benefit.

Discrimination laws especially those written in the 60’s legislated against:

The disabled/handicapped
based on sex (gender)
age (senior citizens)
religion (baptist no longer had to sit in the back at board meetings)
race, hiring practices merely based on skin color and not merit, education. etc.

So, for all those walkers who have been discriminated against because you feel you should have a wheelchair too, I say: yours is in the closet. It’s always been there. Maybe, you just were too busy looking elsewhere that you didn’t see it.

I’m still working on that tooth fairy thing though.

-thanks for reading!



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Not for ‘Cowards’

Speaking about Racism.

We ARE a Nation of Cowards.
Try as I might to stay away from controversial issues, alas, I cannot. I will be posting a new series pertaining to the Discussion of Racism. Hopefully, you are not one of ‘them’.–a coward.

Are we truly a New America? or, are we still stuck in foot kissing. Like a new boyfriend, mouth kissing is fine, but when we bend to toe kiss, we, like a new boyfriend will eventually….stand up.

Let’s talk about race, baby.

I hate hating folks. I hate folks hating folks. Hate captures the hater in a vortex which eventually consumes the hater until he/she is good for no more than, well, hating.

Growing up and living black in America, I have known indiscriminate hate. That’s hate for no reason. My (black)ness speaking for me before I enter a room, or a job interview.

I have tried to even see why white supremist hate (everybody). I have looked over both sides, as best I could, however, have not come up for one, solid, valid reason to hate someone (just because).

This post is not meant to give over to any judgment from any side. This post is meant as a sounding board, if you will, to simply address ideas and suggestions, -relevant ones, please-, on How Can We As a Community of Bloggers Reach Out To One Another and Speak, Openly and Candidly About Race.

This Post is not for ‘Cowards’

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All Day Church

How many times have our parents dragged us kicking n’ screamin to church on Sunday morning. Realizing early that it was totally futile to reject their wish of providing us with a headstart on the devil before the week began.

I don’t know about you, but some Sundays seemed to last into the next and as a child, my patent leather shoes grew stiffer under the already stiff crinoline dress as the service wore on. As a kid, turning and twisting in the pew next to momma, I watched poking my head up once and again as members sang and flung about worshipping and praising and walking and talking to God and Heaven itself. Sometimes, I’d get lost in the singing and forget about how hard the smooth seats were or that just ahead lay penney candy and long straight peppermint sticks my daddy would buy us after church. As long as we didn’t act up or get our clothes dirty.

The rhythm of the world belonged to me in those old foot stompin’, hand clappin’ services. The voices of Sister Sallie Millner and the Jr. Choir would rise into a crescendo sometimes sending members flying out of their seats toward the pulpit to shout glory! and halleluia! Glory to His Name! they’d shout and sing and laugh out loud and cry till their souls washed smooth .

Some ladies would get so “happy” that the ushers in their white uniforms and white gloves would have to fan them. phack! out would come the fans with the pictures of either Jesus or Martin Luther King on them.

Whoosh! The cool breeze of the fans and the soothing voices of the sisters would calm the women down and they would slump exhausted into their seats, satisfied with the spirit.

Momma’s favorite song was “In the Garden”. She’d stand tall with her hands folded and her voice would rang out : I come to the Garden alone , while the dew was still on the ro – –ses, and the voice I hear calling in my ear, and he walks with me and he talks with me, and he tells me I am His own.

After the singing and praising ‘portion’ of the service. Pastor Otis Chestnut would come and ‘bring the word of God’.

-This is when things got good. My feet, not yet touching the floor, daring not to anyway, since I’d scuff those shoes)

As Reverend Chestnut opened his Bible and began to preach, the deacons who sat on one side, began to answer and ‘call. YASSA! Preach SA! Reverend Chestnut would bring up a familiar verse like about somebody being in the wilderness and and angel bringing water or when he compared marriage and told of Rebecca and Iasaac at the well, my father and the other deacons would clap, shout, holla Amen! and Preach!

Then, (this is when church was worth the scratchy skirt), the women would take it up, Praise the Lord! Halleluia! Praise Him! Amen! Preach!
Behind me, one would hop out of her seat in the spirit and shout all around, the other people would have to get up and clear out of the pew so that the ushers could get in their with their healing fans. Ceremoniously, they’d appear, one on each side and help to quiet the lady or if the spirit was Really high they may even have to call for some of the deacons to help them carry the moaning, writhing female to the choir room where there was a couch and the ‘slain’ could recover. There she was met by an even higher authority, the nurse. The door would close. There would be the pop of a smelling sauce bottle and handkerchiefs being held under the poor ladies’ nose.

By the time the ushers finished picking folks up off the floor, clearing seats, holding folks so they could shout and handing out those fans, church service would be winding down.

By now the wave of fans would be heavy in the air. Folks moving around so would stir up a lot of heat and the cool air of the front steps were a welcome invite. I would long for the fresh air, for sunshine and the feel of the back seat of daddy’s mercury.

THEN, it was time for announcements. Dinner will be served under the trees out back for alll those who couldn’t get down into the basement!
Second Service would come directly after….

Did you go to church this past Sunday? Tell us about your church service.

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Just when you thought you had conquered the Electric Slide

history of the dancer

cowboys do ‘it too!

it’s electric!

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Dream Challenge

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Messin’ With a Black Man’s Radio

Domestic Violence is nothing funny.  Rihanna should have hit Chris Brown with her umbrella, ella, ella, after (reportedly) being beaten, choked and bitten by Chris Brown.

Domestic violence is one of the worst crimes in America and sad to say, the statistics still rises when it comes to men who use their fists to gain control over their women and oftentimes, their kids.

The National Domestic Violence Hotline says, Get Educated:

Abuse is a pattern of coercive control that one person exercises over another. Battering is a behavior that physically harms, arouses fear, prevents a partner from doing what they wish or forces them to behave in ways they do not want.

Battering includes the use of physical and sexual violence, threats and intimidation, emotional abuse and economic deprivation.

Domestic violence can happen to anyone of any race, age, sexual orientation, religion or gender. It can happen to couples who are married, living together or who are dating. Domestic violence affects people of all socioeconomic backgrounds and education levels.

If you think you might be in an abusive relationship please call the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1-800-799-SAFE (7233), 1-800-787-3224 (TTY) or your local domestic violence center to talk with someone about it.

I do not know Chris Brown or Rihanna personally.  I do wish them both, well. 

But I do know, my friend Jen, who at 30 still walks with a limp after being nearly beaten to death, by her boyfriend just down the road from her house and the safety of her family.  I know Carol, from DC, who had lye thrown on her face, neck and body by  “a loved one”.

No one can forget the courageous Yvette Cade, whose husband was convicted of attempted murder, after attempting to set her on fire in Maryland.

If you, or someone you know, is being abused, get help immediately.

Good Luck to you, Rihanna.



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…Let The Weak Say…

War in Darfur

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

War in Darfur

Darfur refugee camp in Chad
Date 26 February 2003 – present
Location Darfur, Sudan
Status Conflict ongoing

JEM factions
Flag of Sudan NRF alliance
Allegedly supported by:
Flag of Sudan Sudan
Ibrahim Khalil
Flag of Sudan Ahmed Diraige
Flag of Sudan Omar al-Bashir
Flag of Sudan Minni Minnawi
UNAMID: 9,065
Casualties and losses
450,000+ [5]

The War in Darfur is a conflict that is in the Darfur region of western Sudan. Unlike the Second Sudanese Civil War, the current lines of conflict are seen by some reporters (such as those with USA Today and Slate magazine) to be ethnic and tribal, rather than religious.[6] However, a United Nations report[7] states that the various tribes under attack (chiefly the Fur, Masalit and Zaghawa tribes) do not appear to have a distinct ethnicity from their attackers.–Wikipedia







What The Lord Has Done In Me

Let the weak say, “I am strong”
Let the poor say, “I am rich”
Let the blind say, “I can see”
It’s what the Lord has done in me

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