Tuesday, August 22, 2006

Hindsight is Always 20/20...

because sometimes my pride and I are too busy rehashing all the should of, could of, would ofs instead of sitting back and silently take the L.

Recently, I disappointed and vexed a friend and, though it was hard to not add my two cents as he verbally let me have it, I understood 100% where he was coming from. I sat there taking it all in and when he was done telling me about myself, I apologized.

I guess, now and then, I need the wakeup call of loved ones to make me see my mishaps.

No one said growing is painless.

Thursday, August 17, 2006

A Must See For Sure.....


My man Spike is at it again. I've already been called a hypocrit for wanting to see this and not "World Trade Center". Yes, both Spike's Katrina documentary and the 9/11 film tell the story of two recent American tragedies, but I'd rather hear the story straight from the mouths of those who lived it, not Hollywood.

HBO will premiere Acts I and II Monday, August 21 at 9pm, followed by Acts III and IV on Tuesday, August 22 at 9pm. All four acts can be seen Tuesday, Aug. 29, the first anniversary of Hurricane Katrina, at 8p.m. to midnight.

Sunday, August 13, 2006

Headed for Self Destruction

Summer days are melting away and I am coming to a semi-peace with the fact that, for this season, sleep and I have become distant friends. That's cool, for now, because rest hasn't been sacrificed due to idleness.

Though I have a dreamer's long to-do list, I'm satisfied that I've been able to put a check next to a few tasks. I'm especially glad that, after spending four years in the audience, I finally volunteered for this year's Roxbury Film Festival.

I not only saw several great films, that reinforced and slightly altered a few of my perspectives, but I also took part in a resourceful convo that has me 90% sure a master's degree in education is one of my future journeys.But I'm learning, from many past experiences, that while we make plans, God simply laughs. So I'm trying my hardest to leave all in the hands of the Most High and praying that we're on the same page.

The one thing I regret is not seeing the much talked about "Street Soldiers". Unfortunately, it was showing during the festival's last shift, we were severely shorthanded and hundreds of ballots needed to be counted.

About fifteen minutes into the documentary, as a fellow volunteer and I tallied, a woman exited the auditorium and walked out the front door without so much of a glance or word thrown towards our table. A few minutes later another woman did the same thing, leaving the building as if she was deeply offended. My curiosity finally got the best of me when a sister, I remember being pretty chatty when I sold her tickets earlier, also entered the lobby and prepared to leave.

I asked if something was wrong and the sister responded that the film was far "too bleak". She tried to convince herself to sit through it but instead decided after twenty minutes that she had to go. I knew that the documentary was on the emotional issue of the city's growing youth violence but I still didn't get it.

I asked her if she felt that the director could have done anything more to make the film better, in her eyes. She stated that he should have added an element to "Street Soldiers" that at least gave the audience a small bit of hope that the condition in our streets would improve. Frustrated and with her mind made up, the sister repeated that the film was too bleak and told us that she understood that the lives portrayed in the film were someone's reality, but just not hers. She declared that it was a bright, sunny day and she'd rather be out riding her bike
....................

To the white teenager in Byron Hurt's "Beyond Beats and Rhymes: Masculinity in Hip-Hop", profiling in his dad's shiny Escalade bumping Fabolous' "Keeping it Gangsta" during BET's Daytona Spring Bling, and the sister cycling on a summer day through the same Boston streets where countless young lives have been lost: it's everything but the burden, right?

Sister, was it discomfort that truly caused you to leave? Are having the realities of Boston's youth come straight from the source, instead of an emotionally-detached newscaster, far past your comfort zone? It seems like you're looking for the hope of fairytales when "Street Soldiers" deals with real life.

To the brother who, during the Q&A, asked the director of "Kilombo Novo" how the teachings of the ancient Afro-Brazilian martial art form could be implanted into our schools, so that more youth could learn about life and peace: I see you.

I see your question's urgency and how it was thrown out there for the educators, decision-makers and parents in the audience, purposely putting the weight of necessary action on their shoulders. Brother, you understand that we are in a state of emergency and advantage must be taken of any moment we happen to come together, even if it is for entertainment.

At the conclusion of "Street Soldiers" a woman dropped her ballot in my box, after giving the documentary the highest score possible. She expressed that the language in the film was strong but as a mother of a 21-year-old Black male, who she calls every night to hear his voice and make sure he's more than alright, nothing could have made her leave her seat.

I shared with her the opinions of the woman who left earlier and she simply shook her head. She knows that "no one is going to save Dorchester, Roxbury and Mattapan but Dorchester, Roxbury and Mattapan."

Friday, August 04, 2006

i'm not perfect but nothing is wrong with me

Pushing over 250 pounds and with a Myspace page repping the infamous Castle Hill Projects, it’s understandable why the other teens don't mess with her.

But I know better.

I hear the excitement in her voice when she asks if he’s in the gym and quickly signs in so she can find him. Minutes later, I see her eyes slowly lose expression when she realizes he’s too busy flirting with girls who wear tight clothes over bodies shaped like old school Coca-Cola bottles, to pay her any mind.

Jaz knows that in order for big girls to get shallow teenage boys to like them they have to play one of two roles: the extremely funny big girl who hopes that laughs will distract attention from her size or the tough big girl who is, without question, down for whatever. She’s decided long ago to be that hard big girl, threatening to shoot the fair one with the girlfriends of her crew’s enemies and clap up anyone that dares question her gangsta.

Though her exterior seems rough and she takes pride in being the only female to know the crew’s exclusive pound, the Program Director and I both notice how she yearns for the hugs the guys reserve for the svelte girly girls.

Everyone wants to be liked in that special way.

Next weekend I’m starting a workout group for the ladies. I know how intimidating it is to exercise next to women who simply go to the gym for minor maintenance, while you’re trying to shed some serious pounds.

I won’t guarantee that her crush will return the same feelings but I do hope that,regardless if she loses weight, she gains some self-esteem.

Tuesday, August 01, 2006

love of my life you are my friend

After almost two months of living under the Ghanaian sun my love has come back to me. She has returned in better health and with bit more meat on her bones (*rolling eyes*- "Yeah..yeah ...heffa you're butt got bigger"), both things Mom is definitely happy about.

My younger sis needed to leave because the world is meant to be seen, especially by one who craves knowledge and had never ventured too far from home. But I am more than happy to have her back because there are only but so many things that can be shared in emails, on IM or during five minute long convos on shady foreign cell phones and a Sam's Club phone card.

She's in Boston for a few weeks so one day, while I prepared myself for work, I tried my best to fill her in on all the goings on of mutual friends (Remember Rach from high school? The one with the beautiful voice? Mmhmmm. We're invited to the wedding") and the family ("Shirgurl is doing alright but I can tell she's sad he had to go"). All this said I knew the story she had truly been waiting for.

I braced myself and reluctantly dug into my memory, searching for every single unfortunate detail so that she could understand, and see the entire hurtful picture.

Her eyes widened and several gasps escaped her mouth as I shared with her the series of events that occurred before and after I decided to let go. Already late, I promised that I would tell her the rest that evening. But she would have none of it. She quickly put on some clothes and joined me on my commute to work.

As we rode the packed Red Line, she looked me in the eyes, in that personal way only loved ones do, and called the deaded relationship toxic.

No judgement passed between us because she knows we're from the same place. A place where folks give it their all, in faith, and sometimes hope, that things will work out and reciprocity is truly real.

I take pride in being the one who gets requests for birthday money and a few bucks to pay cell bills. I love giving advice on crushes, friendships, clothes, life and old high school chemistry teachers who simply refuse to retire. I'm used to being asked to talk to Mom ("Can you pleeeeease talk to her for me? You know she listens to you") and critique election speeches, and English papers over the phone. And though I embrace my role as the oldest, there are times that I too lose my way and forget how to get myself back.

My younger sis and I sat in silence, allowing the story to marinate.

As we neared my stop, she reached over and hugged me. Letting me know that it's okay for everyone's everything, to shed my armor and allow the unconditional love of my kin to protect and soothe my heart.