Because anger doesn't preclude rationality. Irrationality, however, does.

“As ‘objects,’ we remain unequals, inferiors. Even though they may be sincerely concerned about racism, their methodology suggests they are not yet free of the type of paternalism endemic to white supremacist ideology. Some of these women place themselves in the position of ‘authorities’ who must mediate communication between racist white women…and angry black women whom they believe are incapable of rational discourse.” bell hooks, Feminist Theory: From Margin to Center

The double standard here drives me up a wall. Literally. I’m typing this from the ceiling. It’s cozy up here. I know this book is “old” by today’s standards (even though it looks young enough to be 20) but that makes it no less relevant. I read those words and my blood pressure immediately shot up. We (all women, perhaps especially Black women) have been raging against this idea that emotion negates rationale for decades, centuries even. The hormones, oh the hormones, preclude our better judgment. (It’s why the War on Women is seeking to limit our access to birth control.)

Rather than arguing that I’m/we’re not angry – I’m choosing to embrace it. I’m calling upon my non/anti-feminist counterparts to cease invalidating my feelings/opinions/thoughts/ideas/existence on any issue just because of my emotional, Black or (ugh, the horror) vagina-ized state. I’m calling on my feminist compatriots who are melanin-deficient to help bring an end to this “angry black woman” stereotype – and help everyone recognize that there is nothing wrong with being angry and there is everything wrong with using a powerful tool of the patriarchy against other women. What is wrong is the marginalization of one socially, politically and economically "inferior" group by another, (slightly less) socially, politically and economically "inferior" one. I see this now not only as it pertains to the differences between black women and white women but the west and the non-west (i.e. Muslim women and non-Muslim women seeking to free Muslim women from their “shackles,”).  

Of course I'm angry. All the damned time and about so many things. But, I can be angry and know that 2 +2 = 4. I’m done asking other people if I have the right to be in such an impassioned state.  I'm embracing the fact that I do indeed own the right to live and feel as I choose. And I own that right in the face of men who think me inferior because of my impressive set of ovaries, and women who think me inferior because my hair is kinked and my skin has a year-round tan. 

Our myriad struggles with the perfect body, control over our baby-making and sustaining machinery (both before and after giving birth - breastfeeding anyone?) our varying battles with Darth Patriarchy (Vader’s distant cousin), our fight against gaslighting and so on are points of unity, not division. Unity, of course, does not mean minimization of difference. It means creating a world in which women have the authority to govern their own lives, wear their own clothes and be angry any time of the month they damn well please.

When a man got angry some time around September 2001, he launched an entire war that cost us countless lives. But his act was “rational.”

When I get angry, I’m PMSing, I’m irrational and my thoughts on the issue are thereby irrelevant.

Do you see where I’m going with this? 

I’m not saying anything here that hasn’t been said before, I know this. But I guess this post is really more for me and for those other women like me that get angry and then second guess their anger as though there is something wrong with it. God gave you anger. That’s how you know something is WRONG.

Now, I’m not saying that we should all go bat-shit crazy and run over our significant other’s because they stole our twinkies and that made us angry. I’m not saying we should all morph into Hulkina or Lady Hulk or whatever the hell her name is.

What I am saying is that the next time someone tells you that you’re “just angry” you should reply “And? Your point?” Because anger, or any other emotion for that matter, doesn’t preclude or disrupt rationality. Irrationality, however, does. 

Save the Chickens!

Why, Chik-Fil-A? WHY? [insert obnoxious wailing here]

Because I've apparently been living under a rock for the last year, I'm just now finding out that Chik-Fil-A is against equal rights for the LGBT community. If you've ever read my blog (and I'm sure you've read EVERY post), you know that I'm fiercely behind equal rights for the LGBT community. So this news, in short, pains me.

Now, people are trying to split hairs and say that the Chik-Fil-A organization, WinShape, is not anti-gay per se. They just donate money to organizations that happen to  be against equal rights for the LGBT community. 

Really, people? That's how you're going to spin this one? That's like saying the KKK isn't racist, it's just pro-white. 

I guess it's perfectly acceptable to ignore the statements made here, here, here, here and...wait for it...here. 

Fine, let's ignore the VIDEO EVIDENCE and say that Chik-Fil-A and WinShape aren't anti-gay. Let's just say they're for marriage being only between a man and a woman. That's fine. You're still not getting a penny more of my hard earned money. Sorry. 

I love Chik-Fil-A. Love their food, their service, even the cow. I go there at least once a week for breakfast, lunch, dinner, a medium to large sized Dr. Pepper with light ice. I'm so recognizable at Chik-Fil-A in the mornings, they know to put strawberry jam in the bag with my egg and cheese muffin. 

I'm really going to hate to see you go, but I can't allow my money to be donated to organizations like those listed here. It breaks my heart. Now I'm going to have to find a new place for my lazy morning breakfast AND deal with the nasty attitudes. I could just make my breakfast at home, but, dammit that's unpatriotic! Anti-American! Anti-Jobs! 

So, dear reader, I implore thee - join me in saving the chickens, won't you.  

Would you like a bit of fairy dust with that?

The beach gods thwarted Mr. Discovery's and my attempts to make it to Mexico this weekend. So, as a consolation prize, we went to Atlanta instead. I thought, we'll dine, we'll drink and we'll...well - there's really nothing that can top drankin now is there?

So, we saddled up the horse, and made haste toward Hot-lanta. Sunday morning, I wanted brunch. I wanted waffles. And not just anybody's waffles - Gladys Knight's waffles.

I waited an hour for them.

It was not worth it.

But, it was worth this

And this

And this

I must say that this 

made me tear up a little. 

Because I braved the 1 hour wait time at Gladys Knight's (cold and tasteless) chicken and waffles, I got to see this year's Atlanta Gay Pride Parade. It was my first parade, my first gay pride event, and my first time seeing a drag queen in person. It's fitting that I lost all those virginities on the Lord's day. I'm sure He's happy that my world is  now complete. 

I thought it beautiful to see so many men and women, straight, gay, lesbian, out and proud - supporting their community and supporting the people they love. Members of the armed forces marched in uniform. As a recovering Air Force brat, that makes me happier than I can ever hope to articulate. 

To see churches out supporting the unions, nay, the marriages of people who love each other restores my faith in religion a tiny bit. Notice that I did not say "restores my faith in God." My faith tells me that God and Jesus love and loved without exclusivity. Heathen that I am, sinner that I am, I find solace in that.

I must say that my experience at Ms. Knight's restaurant was further sullied by the behavior of the gentleman that brought us our food. Seeing that I was enjoying watching the parade from the window (I'd even switched seats with ye olde balle and chain to get a better glimpse) his entire demeanor changed. He all but slammed my food down in front of me. And according to eye witness testimony from one Mr. Y.E.O Chain, he could be heard saying "so fucking sad," presumably in reference to the LGBT community marching within his field of vision.

If we put half the energy we dedicate into hating those that are not exactly like us into creating a world of peace, acceptance and love - just imagine the sort of world we'd have.

I wonder how that young gentleman would feel if he were somehow transported back to the 1960's and had white men and women saying the same things and expressing the same distaste if he were marching down the street, fist in the air proclaiming his own pride in being both beautiful and black. I wonder...

As a black woman I can't fathom hating someone for something as simple as who they are attracted to. First, I've got more important things to do - like live my own f*cking life - than worry about what goes on in another person's bed. (Unless that other person's bed involves Mr. Y.E.O Chain. Then we've got WWIII on our hands. But, I digress). Second, I'm too aware of my own history, and how it is deeply mired in the struggles my people endured to simply be recognized as intelligent human beings deserving of a world that, if not accepting of them as a people, accepted their right to social, political, educational and occupational equality.

Hmmm...now that sounds familiar.

Seeing what I saw this weekend made me realize that I talk a "whole lotta shit" as the saying goes. So, I'm planning to offer whatever I can to the local LGBT cause to fight North Carolina's attempts to prevent marriage equality within this state.

I leave you with this:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RnyRF9uqSmQ

Happy Coming Out Day everybody!

I had a baby...

And its name is English.

Dear God I never realized how much college was like having a baby.

It cuts into your sleep (1-3 naptime included).

It sucks up ALL of your money.

It makes you wonder why it was ever a good idea.

And you often consider giving it up for adoption.

Closed adoption.

BUT! I daresay I love it. I've been so busy that I didn't hear Herman Cain say that African-American voters are all brainwashed. Which also means that I didn't say that he's a complete ass for implying that we colored folks (please note sarcasm) are somehow incapable of thinking for ourselves - someone must have planted all of these ideas about equal rights, healthcare for all, fair taxes, etc., in our heads. Because the only way to believe in such "socialist" ideals is to be brainwashed. And obviously, rejecting Republican politicians means that we are close minded. We clearly live in a world where being republican and open mindedness go hand in hand.

Nope. I didn't say that at all.

I've also been too busy to notice how the media (much to the conservative right's glee) pounced all over the Chris Christie (non)ordeal. While the world was so focused on this man's (nonexistent) potential presidential run, the republican's were doing....Oh, wait... We don't know because everyone needed Mr. Christie to say for the hundredth time that he would not be running for president.

Nope. Didn't notice that at all.

I didn't notice North Carolina's decision to put the gay marriage amendment to the state constitution to vote in 2012. I also didn't say that it'll be a cold day in hell before NC gets any more of my tax dollars if that amendment passes.

Nope. Not at all.

Suffice it to say that I've been living in a bubble, content to ignore the world for a time as it falls apart around me.

My tax dollars don't pay you to hate and discriminate.

It’s 1 o’clock in the morning and, as usual, my brain assumes that’s the perfect time for writing. It’s one of those nights when “more tired than Katherine Heigl in a romantic comedy” just doesn’t seem to cover it.

 I find myself awake pondering the plight of the world – its incessant need to hate, its undying ability to spread that hate.  I wonder how we got here. I wonder how we ever get to a point where hatred is acceptable. Especially when it’s sheathed in the name of God.

The Indiana House of Representatives voted to pass an amendment banning same sex marriage.  This decision has had me quite perplexed for a few days, and I’m only just now finding myself calm enough to adequately respond.  Representative Eric Turner has been quoted as saying, “The basic unit of society is the family, and the cornerstone of the family is marriage. Marriage is and should be between one man and one woman."

Who gets to decide what marriage is or isn’t? Is that a power that “we the people” have given to our government? To define what makes a marriage and what constitutes family? If so, can someone please point out where the U.S. constitution allocates that right, because I damn sure haven’t seen it.

The people that voted for this amendment say that they are NOT writing DISCRIMINATION into the constitution. IF you are saying that marriage is EXCLUSIVE to one man and one woman, does that not exclude any other sort of relationship? Is that not, therefore, discrimination? Apparently our elected officials have a different grasp of what constitutes discriminatory activity. It was once acceptable to outlaw interracial marriages as well. But, maybe I’m comparing apples to oranges and I just don’t realize it. Maybe the prevention of marriage between two people who clearly loved each other in the early to mid 20^th century is totally different from the prevention of marriage between two people who clearly love each other in the 21^st century.

If I told you that marriage should only be between people from the same social class would you accept that? No, you wouldn’t. Why? Because it’s arbitrary and, as we all know, you can’t help who you love. 

Marriage is what you make it. Marriage, for some, is the ultimate testament of love. Marriage, for others, is a death sentence. But at least they get to make that choice.

Who does “same-sex” marriage harm? Is it murdering your child? Is it stealing your most prized possessions? Is it selling drugs at the local high school? If my gay friends get married, will a deadly earthquake occur halfway across the world and somehow wipeout 6 million people? Will it somehow prevent you from living your day to day life? 

How about a little perspective people. Marriage is not a gift to be doled out like candy on Halloween. It is a right, as inherent as the right to vote.

So, dear Rep. Turner – if you want to maintain the cornerstone of the family, you should probably start by realizing that families, like marriage, are what you make them. Family is what I choose it to be, not what my government tells me it is. Family is born from love and love does not only exist between one man and one woman. The Indiana state constitution is no place for your prejudices. Please keep them to yourself. 

You've got problems? I've got solutions.

I feel like every word I type here is under scrutiny. Which is odd, because I only have a few (dare I say loyal?) followers. I hate that the words of one, single, too scared to put a name to the face person make me hesitant to do something that I love – write.

I started this blog because I wanted to share my experiences with future and current graduate students. I found that when I had nothing else to turn to, this became my outlet.

When the stark reality that I was officially in a long distance relationship hit me, I wrote about it. When I realized that the person that’s been by my side for the last 5 years was no longer there – I wrote about it. When I started failing my classes and FUBARing lab – I wrote about it. When I realized that I didn’t quite fit in – I wrote about it. And I put my name and face to everything that I wrote.

I stand by it.

Proudly.

I’m making a very difficult decision in my life. And I’m displaying it for all of the world to witness. I don’t know if that’s ballsy or not – but I do hope that someone out there will benefit from this.  I hope that someone out there will read something that I’ve written on these pages and walk away with the firm resolve to be whoever they were meant to be. Someday, in the potentially very near future, you will be faced with making a life altering decision. And that very same decision will be influenced by the (often unsolicited) opinions of others. And those opinions will make you stop and question everything that you’ve done and said up until that point. Finally, when you think you’ve weighed every option, every pro and con, Some Random (dare I say negative? Unhappy? Eager to spread the misery around?) person will come along and offer their “expert advice,” and you’ll be back to square one.

Don’t let it happen. You are who you are and you have to live with the decisions you make.  Naturally, we seek the counsel of those that are closest to us, but at the end of the day the decision is yours and yours alone. Do you want to wake up 10 years from now and have to say “I did xyz because Some Random told me I should?” That is a recipe for regret.

I came. I saw. I conquered the “what if” beast. When I leave, and trust me I’m counting down the days, I won’t have to ask myself “what if I’d gone to Purdue?” I’ll already know what it was like. I won’t be so busy agonizing over my past, and I’ll be able to focus on the here and now and on the future.

It’s very easy for Randoms to offer their opinions when they aren’t the ones that have to deal with the consequences. It’s very easy for anyone from the outside looking in to say what is or isn’t right or wrong. Whatever happened to live and let live? If you don’t like it, then don’t YOU do it. But don’t begrudge me my right to do so. Don’t believe in gay marriage? Don’t marry a gay person. Problem solved. You don’t believe in abortion? Don’t have one. Problem solved. Don’t like the content of a novel because it’s too racy/violent/whatever? Then don’t read it. Problem solved. Don’t like the idea of dropping out of grad school?

Then.

Don’t.

Do.

It.

Problem solved.

Let’s stop making controversy where there is none.  And let’s stop believing that the facelessness of the internet somehow gives you the authority to act like a complete asshole.  

But, most importantly, let’s have a little more compassion for one another - for those that we do and for those that we don’t know.

If you’re reading this, and you’ve got a crazy difficult decision to make in your life – I hope you find the strength you need to do it. I hope you find the resolve you need to do it. And, most importantly, I hope you do it for you because you’ve got to live your life. No one else can do that for you.

I leave you with a quote that a friend recently reintroduced me to:

"Your right to swing your arms ends just where the other man's nose begins.” Oliver Wendell Holmes

The meaning of life

I hate getting up early in the morning for class.  If there’s a reason for an early arrival to awake-dom, then I’m all for it. I’ll get up at 430 in the morning and operate on 4 hours of sleep to get to the airport.  I’ll get up at 330 to begin an 8 hour car ride for vacation. But I hate, absolute abhor, getting up at 630 or beyond to go to [shudders] class.

At least I did. Then I bought a TV for my bedroom, and suddenly the world made sense again at 630 in the morning. 

It’s something of a ritual of mine to roll over, beat my alarm senseless, flick on the light and immediately turn on the news. It gets me all riled up in the morning and makes me feel…well…alive. This morning, for instance, I watched a story on CNN about former Senator Rick Santorum.  They discussed a report in which the former senator stated that in the face of his views of civil rights, President Obama’s stance on abortion was “remarkable for a black man.” Hmm…Didn’t I just talk about this in my Dr. MLK blog post? I believe I did.

The former senator then goes on to say that he does not believe that “you’ll find a biologist in the world who will say that is not a human life,” in reference to a fetus.  Now, I’m a biologist. I spend my working days with biologists. And I can say for a fact that I’ve heard it a time or two where a fellow biologist has indicated that a fetus is not a person.  Now, the former senator has done something quite interesting here – which is why I both love and hate politicians. They are like the Fae in how they tell a lie.  

How do we define life? As an undergraduate, I encountered professors both young and old that had no set definition for “life," and it was actually the topic of debate in class one spring day.  I would say that we encounter “life” when we encounter a living cell, but that is my definition.   A fetus is comprised of living cells and, as a result of my current definition, a fetus constitutes life because it is a comprised of living cells.  But what is life to someone that is not a scientist? For those people of the world that haven't chosen to pursue scienece, life is often synonymous with “personhood” so to speak. So, for former senator Santorum to come forward and say that he wouldn’t “find a biologist in the world who will say that is not a human life” is not necessarily a lie, but it’s so far from the truth it might as well be. Asking someone to define life is like asking a person to define love.

BUT, the point of this post is not to debate what constitutes life, what makes a person a person, or even whether or not abortion is right or wrong.  The point of this post is to discuss the use of the “[insert adjective here] for a [insert race here] person” formula. The point of this post is to discuss, yet again, why the use of such language – while fully endorsed by our first amendment rights – is just flat out wrong.  I would hope that a former senator of the friggin United States of America would understand that, but sadly he apparently does not. (Watch out kids! He’s slated to run for president in 2012.)   

Why isn’t it enough that the President fights for civil rights? Why couldn’t Santorum have stated that President Obama’s stance on abortion was “remarkable given that he advocates for the civil rights of all people?” Why does the fact that he’s a black man have anything to do with it? I say this, because a statement such as the one uttered by Santorum makes it seem as if black people are the only ones that should care about civil rights. Would he have said President Hu’s stance on abortion (whatever it may be) was “remarkable for a Chinese man?” I don’t know. 

Maybe the problem is me. Maybe I’m just supposed to accept the use of the insert adjective/insert race formula and turn a blind eye to it.  Maybe I’m just making a “big deal” out of it.  Ha! As if I ever would!

This wouldn’t bother me so much if it was a small isolated incident, but we hear it everywhere we turn.  Remember “Barack, The Magic Negro?” Remember Senator Harry Reid’s comments about the world being ready for a “light skinned” black President with no “Negro dialect?” Remember Vice President Biden’s comments about the president being the “first mainstream African American that was articulate and bright and clean?” Naturally Vice President Biden said those words were taken out of context. And Senator Harry Reid apologized. And the esteemed leaders of our nation expressed the appropriate disapproval of that magical song. 

How about you just not do/say/engage in this offensive shit in the first place?  How many times are we supposed to sit back and accept it when people say "it's just a joke," or "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it?"

And since you care so much about civil rights former senator Santorum – are you also going to begin advocating for gay marriage? A right that, in my opinion, is a right that belongs to anyone that lays claim to it.

I also looked up the definition of life for my own edification. This is what I and my good friend Merriam found.

I speak, therefore I am....speaking.

At the putrescently senescent age of 23, I sit in my rocking chair (okay really, my desk chair in lab) and continue to ask myself “what do you want to be when you grow up?” My mother used to ask me, whenever I had a ½ midlife crisis (which was any day that ended in ‘Y’) “what would you do if you could do anything, and didn’t have to worry about making duckets?” (That’s a direct quote, I swear! Also, for those of you that aren’t as down as my mother is, duckets = money. Oh, and down=cool). I told her then that I would either teach or write. Today, I feel so far removed from my desire to teach that I’d rather write. And hopefully teach through writing.  I wonder why I thought one was somehow exclusive of the other.

                

          I had yet another invigorating discussion yesterday evening with my roommate (from henceforth referred to as R. Matey) about language and how it is used to define who we are. How one speaks is often associated with how intelligent they are, where they come from, and – unfortunately – their status in society, so to speak.  I’ve been told on multiple occasions by people from all walks of life that I (here comes another direct quote) “sound like a white girl.” R. Matey brought this up in our freakin’ awesome pad yesterday evening.  She has the honor of teaching a cultural anthropology course at our institution and the issues of language and race were brought up during discussion.  Apparently, one of the students was frustrated by the fact that speaking “standard” English was associated with “sounding white” whilst (yes, whilst) anything else was associated with “sounding black.”

                This, dear readers, is an age old story that refers to a war that has been waged on our shores for as long as I can remember. My generation has lost many warriors in its salient fight against the destruction of English. Texting, Facebook, Twitter and the like are just the tip of the iceberg in what I like to call “technowarfare.”  This young lady brings up an interesting point. I’ve heard it all my life, now this woman (who I assume is younger than me) faces it as well –“why do you talk like that?” When I was growing up, I felt like I didn’t fit in with my extended family because I would always get that question. “Why do you sound like a white girl?” It pains me even now. I didn’t fit in with many of my peers in college because they felt, on some level, that I thought of myself as better than them. At 23, I still suffer from those feelings of never quite measuring up to anyone’s “standard”. I’m always too much of something for some circles or not enough of anything for others. Either way, I’m usually on the outside looking in.

Why is it so wrong to enjoy stringing together (what I consider to be) a properly structured sentence? With enjoying the sound of words like “putrescence” and “polyglot” as they roll across the tongue like fine (or even cheap, which is all I can afford and have no clue what fine is) wine? Why, with all of the words at our disposal, should I be left to say things like “it’s going bad” and “he knows a lot of foreign words and stuff?”  What’s more, why is it so common within our society and cultural circles to refer to “standard” English as the “white” sound? As luck or misfortune would have it, these sorts of distinctions run rampant in every cultural circle known to man!  I don’t get it. I fear I never will. I speak because I have a voice to do so. And when I do so, I sound like 100% pure USDA NeuroScienceGeek (more geek than neuroscience these days, but, alas (that’s right, alas), I digress).

                Yes, I AM upset. I know you’re thinking to yourself at this very moment – this girl’s got nothing better to do than complain about language. But, in my defense, I love the way language can both mold us and set us free.  I love that Edgar Allan Poe was able to bring such rhythm and such fluidity to the realms of poetry and short story writing (Annabel Lee anyone? Quoth “The Raven” shall I? Is that a hideous heart I hear?).  Maya Angelou’s “Phenomenal Woman” was perhaps the first poem that I fell in love with. I had no idea what “diamonds at the meeting of my thighs” meant when I was 8, but damn it I knew I had them! And, ladylike though I may be, I love the way successful, ahem, “oath swearing” can make a statement exponentially more powerful.

                So, yes, I AM upset. Speaking or writing in a structured form is not analogous to “sounding white” for those of us that aren’t white. It is not done to somehow denote someone’s status in society. We do not speak it so that we can “sound” smart.  It is done because it is beautiful. When we include tones, sounds, vernaculars, etc that are associated with where we are and where we came from it becomes even more beautiful! So please, dear reader, go forth – I beg of you – and find a word today that makes your heart swell, string together a sentence that will make the earth shake (not literally though, that sort of power could be dangerous), and, for the love of Pete and all that is holy, write something. WRITE ANYTHING. And I don’t mean string together a few SMH’s, LOL’s, and ITGTSSBAIDY2SSAI’S.  I mean sit down and write a letter to someone you love. Write a story (flash fiction, short story or otherwise) that tells your story as it is or as you intend it to be. Maybe the weight of the world will be lifted from your shoulders, if only for a day. And, if that doesn’t work, maybe you’ll find joy in writing the way your write, or in speaking the way you speak. It, like a fingerprint, is yours and yours alone. Whether it measures up to anyone’s definition of “standard” or not.   

                Like I said in my previous post, words have power. Thanks to Mr. Kemosabe (aka Google) I learned that today is the 50th anniversary of JFK’s inaugural address.  Just listen to his speech and you’ll surely understand.  The words he spoke inspired me and, like many, I wondered how he would’ve changed the world had he not been taken from us before his time.    I wonder why we do not celebrate him and what he stood for nationally….

This speech, like so many others, is why I choose to speak English as it was taught to me, and why you should find your voice and wield it with all of the dignity and responsibility that it is due. Forgive me if that makes me “sound white” or somehow makes you feel like less of a person because you don’t do it too. Consider “standard” English my form of vernacular speech.  And, as this post comes to an overdue close, think about how something as simple as a sentence – the way it’s uttered, the way it’s shaped, the way it is wielded – can have such a profound effect on something as explosive as race, as beautiful as self-acceptance and as  dangerous as life (and the  losses therein).

So, Mother Dear, I think I finally have an answer to your question. I want to be a writer when I grow up, whenever that may be. I want to embrace the English language that you and Father Dear so painstakingly taught me and use it to reach whoever I may reach, and teach whoever I may teach.

And thanks again, R. Matey, for inspiring yet another post.