It started last week at a crab feast. While we picked through mountains of Maryland Chesapeake Bay crabs, someone played the Michael Jackson "Best Of" CD. While sipping the cheap beer and watching the children dance around on stage, we discussed the joke Eddie Murphy told many years ago about the lyrics to "Billie Jean" and how Micheal must have thought he had fooled all of us because the video was about a mystery man who could light up the squares in the pavement of the sidewalk--nothing at all to do with a young man who might have gotten a girl pregnant.
Oh, Michael! What the hell happened?
Who didn't love MJ as a child? He was the most fantabulous entertainer of all time. His music, his ground-breaking music videos, and his electric performances entranced us. We were not distracted by the fact that he looked weird and had a high pitched voice and wore sequins even in the daytime and wore high-water pants and white socks with penny loafers and colorful leather jackets in always hot and sunny California and had that drip-drippy jheri curl and travelled with small children who were unrelated to him and never seemed to have a girlfriend and lived in an amusement park and seemingly disappeared when his sister Janet released "Control" only to re-emerge a few years later looking even weirder and whiter. We still loved him. He was the greatest.
Even when we all moved onto to other musical interests, Michael still had the power to draw us back. We all thought "Bad" was a decent enough album in hig school and "Dangerous" was a big hit among my friends in college. I don't recall that I bought "HIStory" (as a matter of fact, I don't even remember when it came out), but I might go buy it today simply because Michael released it. And that last album with Chris Tucker in the video, if I knew what it was called, I would buy that one too.
No matter what Michael has done (or hasn't), I will always be a fan. Anything he puts out is infinitely better that the music most of the other popular artists have released. I just completed a music survey and I hated almost everything they had me evaluate. MJ is one of these rare artists that never go out of style.
My recent MJ rehabilitation has a lot to do with the fact that I never accepted the conventional wisdom that he was a unrepentant freak. He is crazy, but then again every child of Joe and Katherine Jackson seem to have inherited some level of insanity (has anyone else noticed how off the wall Janet has been since she hooked up with Jermaine Dupri?). I just don't believe that this is a man who would ever intentionally harm a child. I think he did some inappropriate things with children, but like other celebrities who behave badly, he just needs some therapy, a new agent and wait the obligatory five to ten years to make a come-back. By that point his own children will be old enough to sit next to him during the mandatory Oprah interview to insist that he was just misunderstood.
While I don't buy any of the conspiracy theories that there are people out there who are out to get Michael Jackson, I think it is time that we face facts so that he can finally do the same. MJ is a victim of his own self-inflicted excesses. His troubles are representative of the fact that he surrounded himself with unscrupulous people who used him. At some point, I hope that his real friends will step up and save him, not only from the bad people, but also from himself.
In the meantime, I plan to revisit the classic Michael Jackson. It is a lot easier to remember that he was once less strange than he is today, but it gives me hope that one day he will recover. It has been said that there is a very thin line between genuis and insanity, and he is probably the most tragic embodiment of that fact. Instead of treating his life and career like the proverbial car wreck on the freeway, maybe we all should just politely look away and keep going (all the while jamming to "Billie Jean").
Saturday, August 05, 2006
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
Too Much TV
I spent a good half of my day yesterday watching "America's Top Model." I spent three hours on Sunday glued to "Project Runway." In any given week, I can watch as much VH1, E!, TLC, and Lifetime to have written several books, cleaned my house at least three times top to bottom, and any number of un-done tasks around my house.
I am a TV junkie.
Is there anyone else out there who can attest to my addiction? While watching a few hours of "The World Series of Pop Culture" I realized that I could answer at least a third of the questions. If I had known that there was a nation-wide search for contestants, I would have signed up. Why not get paid for all of the TV I watch these days?
I've written about my TV obsessions before, but the issue now is the paralysis I feel whenever I waste significant chunks of time in front of the tube. I do accomplish other tasks, but it just feels as if my life is still passing me by as I watch repeats, makeover shows, baby shows (my new obsession thanks to TLC) and court shows. Let's not forget that I still enjoy my Brit-coms. And I've been staying up at night to watch "Sex and the City" and Keith Olberman's "Countdown."
Actually, it is not as bad as it seems. It just feels that way because TV has replaced human beings for me in terms of regular interaction. I can watch TV and forget about the fact that it is too darn hot to do much else. I bet that this current phase will end as soon as the weather breaks and I can go outside to do things again. That, and when I finally get a little money in my pocket.
Ok, I get it...I need a life and soon.
***
On a brighter note, I did complete one of my short story ideas. I need to edit it, but I am very proud of myself. It took an entire day (one that could have been used for something more productive), but at least I did not waste a day on TV and I got something done for myself. Yay me!
I am a TV junkie.
Is there anyone else out there who can attest to my addiction? While watching a few hours of "The World Series of Pop Culture" I realized that I could answer at least a third of the questions. If I had known that there was a nation-wide search for contestants, I would have signed up. Why not get paid for all of the TV I watch these days?
I've written about my TV obsessions before, but the issue now is the paralysis I feel whenever I waste significant chunks of time in front of the tube. I do accomplish other tasks, but it just feels as if my life is still passing me by as I watch repeats, makeover shows, baby shows (my new obsession thanks to TLC) and court shows. Let's not forget that I still enjoy my Brit-coms. And I've been staying up at night to watch "Sex and the City" and Keith Olberman's "Countdown."
Actually, it is not as bad as it seems. It just feels that way because TV has replaced human beings for me in terms of regular interaction. I can watch TV and forget about the fact that it is too darn hot to do much else. I bet that this current phase will end as soon as the weather breaks and I can go outside to do things again. That, and when I finally get a little money in my pocket.
Ok, I get it...I need a life and soon.
***
On a brighter note, I did complete one of my short story ideas. I need to edit it, but I am very proud of myself. It took an entire day (one that could have been used for something more productive), but at least I did not waste a day on TV and I got something done for myself. Yay me!
Monday, July 31, 2006
Series on Black Men in the Post
The Washington Post has been running a series on black men, and I thought that I might be able to post in the Live Discussion with Dr. Michael Eric Dyson. I am not a big fan of his, so I wanted to query him on his vendetta against Bill Cosby.
But after I wrote out my comments before-hand and logged in to post them to the discussion board, someone else had already asked a similar question. And since I am very passionate on this issue, I started on one question and ended up with several that I thought I might pose to Dr. Dyson. They too had been posed by others. This means that I probably will not get to see my question or point of view on the website.
So, yesterday I was contemplating the future of this blog...today I am using it as an outlet for one of my rants. Here goes:
I personally think you have capitalized on the Cosby comments, and the longer your “dispute” rages, you continue to make money on book sales. This is not to suggest that there is not a genuine disagreement, but it just seems that the “difference” in your respective opinions is overstated. Unlike the paid black conservative talking heads who act as mouthpieces for reactionary think tanks and politicos, Cosby is speaking his mind to black audiences on his own volition. What profit does he derive from his public appearances?
Bill Cosby single-handedly contributed to the high college attendance rates in the 90s through a popular TV sitcom and several multi-million dollar gifts to HBCUs. Contrary to your assertions that Mr. Cosby has avoided the subject of race throughout his career, I believe that he has made numerous efforts to address the topic, but has done so through subtlety. Must all black public figures thump their chests and set out to be openly defiant?
With respect Dr. Dyson, many rational people, both liberal (like me) and conservative agree with Bill Cosby on the need for more personal responsibility in the black community. That does not diminish the reality of racism—it just accepts the fact that each of us must play the cards we are dealt in life, and that even with a bad hand, the right moves means that one can survive stay in the game. Racism has always persisted in our society; I suspect that it always will. So does it mean that we just give up? When do we become accountable for the condition of the black community?
Well, that was all I wanted to add to the conversation. I do want answers to these questions, but unfortunately the nature of a so-called live chat doesn't really allow one to exchange ideas with the chatter. He gets to be selective and evasive as necessary. So I suspect that my questions, even if he provides "answers", won't necessarily be resolved.
But after I wrote out my comments before-hand and logged in to post them to the discussion board, someone else had already asked a similar question. And since I am very passionate on this issue, I started on one question and ended up with several that I thought I might pose to Dr. Dyson. They too had been posed by others. This means that I probably will not get to see my question or point of view on the website.
So, yesterday I was contemplating the future of this blog...today I am using it as an outlet for one of my rants. Here goes:
I personally think you have capitalized on the Cosby comments, and the longer your “dispute” rages, you continue to make money on book sales. This is not to suggest that there is not a genuine disagreement, but it just seems that the “difference” in your respective opinions is overstated. Unlike the paid black conservative talking heads who act as mouthpieces for reactionary think tanks and politicos, Cosby is speaking his mind to black audiences on his own volition. What profit does he derive from his public appearances?
Bill Cosby single-handedly contributed to the high college attendance rates in the 90s through a popular TV sitcom and several multi-million dollar gifts to HBCUs. Contrary to your assertions that Mr. Cosby has avoided the subject of race throughout his career, I believe that he has made numerous efforts to address the topic, but has done so through subtlety. Must all black public figures thump their chests and set out to be openly defiant?
With respect Dr. Dyson, many rational people, both liberal (like me) and conservative agree with Bill Cosby on the need for more personal responsibility in the black community. That does not diminish the reality of racism—it just accepts the fact that each of us must play the cards we are dealt in life, and that even with a bad hand, the right moves means that one can survive stay in the game. Racism has always persisted in our society; I suspect that it always will. So does it mean that we just give up? When do we become accountable for the condition of the black community?
Well, that was all I wanted to add to the conversation. I do want answers to these questions, but unfortunately the nature of a so-called live chat doesn't really allow one to exchange ideas with the chatter. He gets to be selective and evasive as necessary. So I suspect that my questions, even if he provides "answers", won't necessarily be resolved.
Sunday, July 30, 2006
Pondering my Return to the Blog
I needed to take a break, and it took me all month to decide whether to return to my blog. It isn't that I had gotten frustrated with the lack of readership (which I hadn't because I never promoted this thing), but it was a question of futility of a different sort. Was this really worth it?
In terms of other blogs that I've read, I don't say anything especially profound, and when I do, no one ever really sees it. My initial goal was to get into a habit of writing on a regular basis, and for a while it worked. But then I fell into familiar habits and patterns, and my once a day expectation became a once a week, then a once a month visit. I haven't written anything in nearly a month.
So I am torn. Do I give this up or do I stick it out? There are a lot of reasons to give it up, mainly because of the footprint this thing has left. If someone wanted to find out something about me, a quick Google search later and this blog would probably appear. I might have some explaining to do (assuming that a potential employer would care). On the other hand, I think it has been good practice for me to write here, even with the small audience. The feedback I've received has been generally good.
What to do? Why should I even stress over this?
Cause it's my way. If I don't stress over this, I'll stress over something else. It is in my nature.
I'll let you know what I decide. Ciao!
In terms of other blogs that I've read, I don't say anything especially profound, and when I do, no one ever really sees it. My initial goal was to get into a habit of writing on a regular basis, and for a while it worked. But then I fell into familiar habits and patterns, and my once a day expectation became a once a week, then a once a month visit. I haven't written anything in nearly a month.
So I am torn. Do I give this up or do I stick it out? There are a lot of reasons to give it up, mainly because of the footprint this thing has left. If someone wanted to find out something about me, a quick Google search later and this blog would probably appear. I might have some explaining to do (assuming that a potential employer would care). On the other hand, I think it has been good practice for me to write here, even with the small audience. The feedback I've received has been generally good.
What to do? Why should I even stress over this?
Cause it's my way. If I don't stress over this, I'll stress over something else. It is in my nature.
I'll let you know what I decide. Ciao!
Saturday, July 01, 2006
My Devil Wore St. John's
I saw my younger self onscreen today. My best friend and I saw "The Devil Wears Prada" and it was a bittersweet reminder of what it takes to be a powerful woman in the corporate world. Actually, it could be a metaphor for what most young women in with dreams of wealth, power and success endure.
The trauma often begins with the stress of the first professional job search. Rejection letters, unreturned calls, useless networking meetings and unacknowledged resumes are rites of passage, so when the moment of truth arrives and that first job offer is extended, most of us are ready to walk through fire because we are so grateful to even make it to that point. By the time I got my first professional job, I was willing to do almost anything, as long as I could hold my head up and proclaim that I did something.
I spent nearly 18 months in a desparate post law-school job search. I was intially told that I needed to pass the bar exam, so I studied like my life depended on it, drove everyone crazy because I was determined to pass on the first try. After taking the exam, I continued to send out resumes, but was only able to secure work as a glorified baby-sitter/tour guide for a bunch of high school students for two months. When the good news arrived, I just knew that a "real" job was right around the corner.
To make a little extra money for all of the lawyer clothes I would need, I got a job working at the mall selling high end soap for a little more than the cost of pantyhose. I dutifully continued to send out resumes, and I ate lunch with every single person that someone recommended who might be able to get me a job. This went on for months, and I continued to sell soap for the sister of one of my closest friends in law school. To add insult to injury, one of my classmates from high school, someone whom I knew to be not so swift, came into my store and essentially treated me like a stupid salesgirl. And if that was not enough, my student loan payments became due, and I barely made enough to even make the interest.
Eventually I ditched that dead-end job and flirted with the idea of becoming a solo practitioner. I was inspired by another temporary job I held as a data entry assistant for another lawyer. The big guy heard that I was a licensed attorney, so he sent me over to the courthouse to handle an uncontested divorce. It was exciting, but it was a one shot deal, and my subsequent attempts to recapture that moment were never quite as thrilling (or as successful).
The following year, I was so exhausted from being poor and so demoralized by my lack of business acumen that I took matters into my own hands. On the coldest winter day, I walked the halls of power and personally handed out resumes to every politician who had advertised for vacancies. And my plan B was to repeat the personal service routine until every judge, government agency, and public interest organization in the city had a copy of my resume. Lucky for me, it didn't come to that.
Fast forward to my first week on the job. I got chewed out for answering the phone "incorrectly." Then I got chewed out for writing down notes with a pencil (even though I had just loaned her my only pen). Then she chewed me out for asking her to hold on while I searched for an answer to a question she had just asked. Then she told me that she hoped I had been a better lawyer to my clients than I was to her, because at that moment, I was an impossible incompetent.
Yup, all of this during the first week on the job.
Later, our relationship stabilized to the point where I could speak to her without genuflecting, but those moments were rare. Then one day after a particularly rough week of enduring her demands, I snapped and got so bold as to argue with her in public. In that instant it became clear that I had crossed a line with her that would never be forgotten. She would never fire me, but she would put me in my place by working me harder than everyone else in the office and by paying me less than every other person in the office. For the next six months she tethered me to her like a dog, and berated me incessantly. But because I had developed thicker skin (and a bit of a backbone), I resolved to anticipate her ridiculous demands and act accordingly.
Of course, this relationship has been the single most important professional experience of my career. People generally are impressed that I survived a year with her (actually it was 50 weeks). And while I would never go so far as to call her a mentor, I would say that she gave me more career guidance than the counselors that were paid to do so at my law school.
She taught me that life is about choices. The choice to become a powerful, successful, woman is one that requires more than just the sacrifice of a quiet, tranquil life. It requires everything--your mind, body and soul. You must think about your work all of the time; you must physically be at work all of the time; and you must possess the fanatacism of a religious zealot to keep you on the top of the game. Success is not for the woman who wants to settle into a "normal" life. Success is not for the woman who wants to have time to herself. Success is not for those of us who want to find someone to share it with.
Success is a solitary pursuit. That is why there is only one queen in a bee hive. She is the ace-zero-no-higher. It is her world, and we are just lucky to be in it.
So as I watched this movie and thought back to my own Miranda Priestly, a St. John's suit-wearer, I realize that I am here because I made the choice not to be like her. I wanted to have a husband who would actually like being married to me. I wanted to have a flexible work schedule so that I could do more than just work and sleep day and day out. I wanted to continue to help people, but I wanted to be able to say no when things got too overwhelming. I also wanted to pursue some of my interests, such as dance and writing.
I wouldn't be able to do any of those things if I had followed in the footsteps of my old boss. I wanted to live my life on my own terms, and in the end, if I can accomplish some measure of happiness, then that is all the success I need.
The trauma often begins with the stress of the first professional job search. Rejection letters, unreturned calls, useless networking meetings and unacknowledged resumes are rites of passage, so when the moment of truth arrives and that first job offer is extended, most of us are ready to walk through fire because we are so grateful to even make it to that point. By the time I got my first professional job, I was willing to do almost anything, as long as I could hold my head up and proclaim that I did something.
I spent nearly 18 months in a desparate post law-school job search. I was intially told that I needed to pass the bar exam, so I studied like my life depended on it, drove everyone crazy because I was determined to pass on the first try. After taking the exam, I continued to send out resumes, but was only able to secure work as a glorified baby-sitter/tour guide for a bunch of high school students for two months. When the good news arrived, I just knew that a "real" job was right around the corner.
To make a little extra money for all of the lawyer clothes I would need, I got a job working at the mall selling high end soap for a little more than the cost of pantyhose. I dutifully continued to send out resumes, and I ate lunch with every single person that someone recommended who might be able to get me a job. This went on for months, and I continued to sell soap for the sister of one of my closest friends in law school. To add insult to injury, one of my classmates from high school, someone whom I knew to be not so swift, came into my store and essentially treated me like a stupid salesgirl. And if that was not enough, my student loan payments became due, and I barely made enough to even make the interest.
Eventually I ditched that dead-end job and flirted with the idea of becoming a solo practitioner. I was inspired by another temporary job I held as a data entry assistant for another lawyer. The big guy heard that I was a licensed attorney, so he sent me over to the courthouse to handle an uncontested divorce. It was exciting, but it was a one shot deal, and my subsequent attempts to recapture that moment were never quite as thrilling (or as successful).
The following year, I was so exhausted from being poor and so demoralized by my lack of business acumen that I took matters into my own hands. On the coldest winter day, I walked the halls of power and personally handed out resumes to every politician who had advertised for vacancies. And my plan B was to repeat the personal service routine until every judge, government agency, and public interest organization in the city had a copy of my resume. Lucky for me, it didn't come to that.
Fast forward to my first week on the job. I got chewed out for answering the phone "incorrectly." Then I got chewed out for writing down notes with a pencil (even though I had just loaned her my only pen). Then she chewed me out for asking her to hold on while I searched for an answer to a question she had just asked. Then she told me that she hoped I had been a better lawyer to my clients than I was to her, because at that moment, I was an impossible incompetent.
Yup, all of this during the first week on the job.
Later, our relationship stabilized to the point where I could speak to her without genuflecting, but those moments were rare. Then one day after a particularly rough week of enduring her demands, I snapped and got so bold as to argue with her in public. In that instant it became clear that I had crossed a line with her that would never be forgotten. She would never fire me, but she would put me in my place by working me harder than everyone else in the office and by paying me less than every other person in the office. For the next six months she tethered me to her like a dog, and berated me incessantly. But because I had developed thicker skin (and a bit of a backbone), I resolved to anticipate her ridiculous demands and act accordingly.
Of course, this relationship has been the single most important professional experience of my career. People generally are impressed that I survived a year with her (actually it was 50 weeks). And while I would never go so far as to call her a mentor, I would say that she gave me more career guidance than the counselors that were paid to do so at my law school.
She taught me that life is about choices. The choice to become a powerful, successful, woman is one that requires more than just the sacrifice of a quiet, tranquil life. It requires everything--your mind, body and soul. You must think about your work all of the time; you must physically be at work all of the time; and you must possess the fanatacism of a religious zealot to keep you on the top of the game. Success is not for the woman who wants to settle into a "normal" life. Success is not for the woman who wants to have time to herself. Success is not for those of us who want to find someone to share it with.
Success is a solitary pursuit. That is why there is only one queen in a bee hive. She is the ace-zero-no-higher. It is her world, and we are just lucky to be in it.
So as I watched this movie and thought back to my own Miranda Priestly, a St. John's suit-wearer, I realize that I am here because I made the choice not to be like her. I wanted to have a husband who would actually like being married to me. I wanted to have a flexible work schedule so that I could do more than just work and sleep day and day out. I wanted to continue to help people, but I wanted to be able to say no when things got too overwhelming. I also wanted to pursue some of my interests, such as dance and writing.
I wouldn't be able to do any of those things if I had followed in the footsteps of my old boss. I wanted to live my life on my own terms, and in the end, if I can accomplish some measure of happiness, then that is all the success I need.
Sunday, June 18, 2006
Home at Last
I returned from my big fat Spanish vacation on Tuesday. In a word, fabulous! I am tanned and relaxed, and I finally feel unencumbered enough to get back to work on the various projects on my personal to do list.
Project #1 - WRITE. I can work on my novel, write a few days worth of memiors about my trip, write a few short stories, some blogs, whatever. I just want to get back in the groove and take advantage of the time I have this summer.
I did very little writing in Spain, mainly because the hub and I spent most of the time on the move. Very little time was spent sitting in one place. And on the few occasions when we were not looking for something to do, to eat, or for a way back to the hotel, I was reading a book. For more months than I care to count, I haven't had leisure time to read a book unrelated to school, so it was a welcomed experience. Now it's time to get back to work!
Project #2 - PREPARE. Summer classes start in less than a month, and I have an entirely different subject matter that I'm teaching for the first time. This will be the test of my ability to teach for real, since this is not a topic with which I am familiar.
Project #1 - WRITE. I can work on my novel, write a few days worth of memiors about my trip, write a few short stories, some blogs, whatever. I just want to get back in the groove and take advantage of the time I have this summer.
I did very little writing in Spain, mainly because the hub and I spent most of the time on the move. Very little time was spent sitting in one place. And on the few occasions when we were not looking for something to do, to eat, or for a way back to the hotel, I was reading a book. For more months than I care to count, I haven't had leisure time to read a book unrelated to school, so it was a welcomed experience. Now it's time to get back to work!
Project #2 - PREPARE. Summer classes start in less than a month, and I have an entirely different subject matter that I'm teaching for the first time. This will be the test of my ability to teach for real, since this is not a topic with which I am familiar.
Project #3 - PLANT. My yard is still an overgrown mess. I didn't plant anything prior to my trip for fear that they would die while I was away. So I need to get some veggies in the ground if I plan to have any type of harvest by September.
Project #4 - RELAX. It is summer and that is what I plan to do. There is no reason for me to continue with the crazy pace I had been following. I am declaring the rest of this month as ME time.
And that's all for now. Hasta!
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
Random B.S.
One of my friends emailed me the following:
As an alumna I could be offended, but instead I laugh at b.s. like this because sentiments like this are probably all over the internet. Free speech is one of the things that make this country great--you can be as offensive as you like, and as long as your comments do not cause riots and anarchy, you have every right to express them.
Of course, I could be accused of giving this moron a platform to spout his ignorance, but I am not worried about that either. I intentionally omitted the link to his "proof" in the form of a song, so he will not get any assistance from me in guiding traffic to his website. If anything, all I want to do is expose him for the idiot that he is.
But I am sick and tired of the degredation black women receive at the hands of the men within our own community. We get the message loud and clear from mainstream society--we are not beautiful, friendly, demure, feminine, or respected, yet we endure the blows and persevere. And in return, we come home and get bombarded with more negativity from a bunch of overgrown male-children whose only ambition is to get rich or die trying.
I don't need to defend myself, or the choices I've made with respect to how I live my life. Nor do I need to defend Bill Cosby or the mission of my alma mater (their accomplishments in uplifting the black race speak for themselves), but I do want to speak up on behalf of black women in general. The writer is only half right--black women have been on the front lines since the 60s, but that was necessary because too many black men failed to show up.
In the time since the Movement, too many black men still fail to show up. They fail to be fathers to the children they produce; instead they opt to be absentee baby daddies. Instead of maturing into men, too many remain tethered to childhood as mama's boys and spoiled brats. If half as much energy was spent on developing business plans, getting an education, parenting, or mentoring as is spent on leisure, loafing, and whining, then maybe more young black men would be on the path to productivity instead of in jail or in the streets on the road to nowhere.
No other ethnicity or race of people expend as much time and effort in self-hatred as we do. Most people can agree and disagree without being branded as disloyal traitors to their heritage. In our society, women from every walk of life can aspire to both great and small things, but when black women express similar ambitions, then we are derided for being weak on one hand, or too strong on the other. There is no middle ground.
I'm spending way more time on this post than I intended. I have better things to do than rail on about some idiot's manifesto on the state of the black community (besides, I've said most of this before in previous posts). As a Spelman graduate who happens to agree with most of what Bill Cosby says, I guess my existence will always be offensive to people like him. Good.
ATTENTION ALL STAFF OF SPELLMAN COLLEGE.It was sent by some anonymous quack in response to Mr. Cosby's recent graduation address to the Spelman class of 2006. Parts of Cosby's speech were printed in the Washington Post and USA Today, so it had the desired result of getting people's attention. And this jerk thought he could make an alternative point by sending this to the Spelman community.
DOES SPELLMAN MEAN
CAST-A-SPELL-ON-BLACK-MEN?
BILL COSBY IS PART OF THE FEMINIST
CONSPIRACY TO DESTROY BLACK MEN AND BOYS AND STOP THE RISE OF THE BLACK
MESSIAH!!!
SPELLMAN IS ALSO CASTING WITCHES SPELLS ON BLACK MEN BY
ALLOWING BILL COSBY A PLATFORM TO PROMOTE HIS TWISTED AND DISTORTED VIEWS ABOUT
BLACK MEN AND BOYS!!!!
BILL COSBY CLAIMS THAT IT IS BLACK WOMEN'S
TURN TO LEAD, BUT THE REALITY IS THAT BLACK WOMEN HAVE BEEN IN THE DRIVER'S SEAT
OF AUTHORITY IN THE BLACK COMMUNITY SINCE SHE DESERTED THE 1960's BLACK
LIBERATION MOVEMENT THAT BLACK MEN STARTED AND
INSTEAD JOINED THE WHITE FEMINIST WOMEN'S LIBERATION MOVEMENT!!!
YET, WHAT MOVEMENTS HAVE BLACK WOMEN STARTED SINCE SHE HAS HAD FORTY YEARS OF
"FREEDOM"???
CLICK BELOW TO LISTEN TO A RAP SONG THAT WE HAVE MADE
THAT EXPOSES THE SILLINESS AND DERISION THAT COSBY SUFFERS
FROM.
ADDITIONALLY, BILL COSBY GAVE "CAST-A-SPELL-ON-A-MAN" COLLEGE
MILLIONS FOR THEIR SO-CALLED "FINE ARTS" DEPARTMENT, YET THE CREATIVE ART OF
HIP-HOP CULTURE WAS CREATED BY THE POOREST BLACKS; AND HIP-HOP IS A BILLION
DOLLAR WORLDWIDE PHENOMENA!!!!
YET, WHAT HAS THE BLACK MIDDLE CLASS
CREATED WITH THEIR MILLIONS??? NOT A DAMN THING BUT IMITATE WHITE PREPPY
CULTURE!!!
P.S. PLEASE FOWARD THS EMAIL TO BILL COSBY!!!! I DARE
YOU!!!!
As an alumna I could be offended, but instead I laugh at b.s. like this because sentiments like this are probably all over the internet. Free speech is one of the things that make this country great--you can be as offensive as you like, and as long as your comments do not cause riots and anarchy, you have every right to express them.
Of course, I could be accused of giving this moron a platform to spout his ignorance, but I am not worried about that either. I intentionally omitted the link to his "proof" in the form of a song, so he will not get any assistance from me in guiding traffic to his website. If anything, all I want to do is expose him for the idiot that he is.
But I am sick and tired of the degredation black women receive at the hands of the men within our own community. We get the message loud and clear from mainstream society--we are not beautiful, friendly, demure, feminine, or respected, yet we endure the blows and persevere. And in return, we come home and get bombarded with more negativity from a bunch of overgrown male-children whose only ambition is to get rich or die trying.
I don't need to defend myself, or the choices I've made with respect to how I live my life. Nor do I need to defend Bill Cosby or the mission of my alma mater (their accomplishments in uplifting the black race speak for themselves), but I do want to speak up on behalf of black women in general. The writer is only half right--black women have been on the front lines since the 60s, but that was necessary because too many black men failed to show up.
In the time since the Movement, too many black men still fail to show up. They fail to be fathers to the children they produce; instead they opt to be absentee baby daddies. Instead of maturing into men, too many remain tethered to childhood as mama's boys and spoiled brats. If half as much energy was spent on developing business plans, getting an education, parenting, or mentoring as is spent on leisure, loafing, and whining, then maybe more young black men would be on the path to productivity instead of in jail or in the streets on the road to nowhere.
No other ethnicity or race of people expend as much time and effort in self-hatred as we do. Most people can agree and disagree without being branded as disloyal traitors to their heritage. In our society, women from every walk of life can aspire to both great and small things, but when black women express similar ambitions, then we are derided for being weak on one hand, or too strong on the other. There is no middle ground.
I'm spending way more time on this post than I intended. I have better things to do than rail on about some idiot's manifesto on the state of the black community (besides, I've said most of this before in previous posts). As a Spelman graduate who happens to agree with most of what Bill Cosby says, I guess my existence will always be offensive to people like him. Good.
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