tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-84598940493438329402023-11-16T10:50:11.864-06:00For Harriet | Celebrating the Fullness of Black WomanhoodFor Harriet is a multi-platform digital community for women of African ancestry. We're here to move the conversations forward. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02600081873635855150noreply@blogger.comBlogger2428125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8459894049343832940.post-41885956829932982892018-11-10T13:43:00.000-06:002018-11-10T13:44:21.625-06:00Michelle and Gabby Aren't Alone: What Black Women Need to Know About Infertility<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="980" data-original-width="1600" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik96-hHGz4okt33FoxRgqwrkJPLkT5EHxzEq8g_m7JDoOo54_0DCC9D8XRoDpppRVAa5M3vkmXlRGDahsKGuGY6Tkbpi_Ea10iJ3TzyJIXihvgMGRQBS8UaUoq3iQss9wLwqzYmgCZF-VI/s1600/TONL-004986.jpg" width="100%" /></div><br />
Infertility is an unspoken shame for many Black women. Thankfully, more and more of us are chipping away at that stigma. Just this week, both Michelle Obama and Gabrielle Union went public with details about their journeys to have babies.<br />
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The former First Lady revealed that her teenage daughters, Malia and Sasha, were conceived via in-vitro fertilization.<br />
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Actress Gabrielle Union has been open about her attempts to carry a baby in the past, and she and her husband, Dwyane Wade, announced the birth of their daughter via surrogate a few days ago.<br />
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Visibility matters. So does access to good information and quality healthcare, things too many of us do not have. We talked to <a href="https://www.brownfertility.com/about-us/our-providers/lori-hollins-md/" target="_blank"><b>Dr. Lori Hollins</b></a>, an infertility specialist, about things Black women who want to carry children need to know.<br />
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If you'd like to <a href="https://www.patreon.com/posts/podcast-what-20114159" target="_blank"><b>listen to this conversation as a podcast</b></a>, join our <a href="http://patreon.com/ForHarriet" target="_blank"><b>Patreon</b></a>.<br />
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<b>Dr. Hollins, thank you so much for taking some time to talk to me. Before we really jump into this conversation, I'd love to know what you do.</b><br />
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</b> I'm an OB/GYN and I did a subspecialty training in what we call reproductive endocrinology and infertility. I trained as an OB/GYN. Four years of training after medical school and then I did an additional two years of fellowship training and what we call endocrinology or hormones related to female reproduction and infertility.<br />
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Basically what I do on an everyday basis is what I call high tech fertility treatments. I see women who, for whatever reason, cannot get pregnant or have problems getting pregnant. The definition of infertility is one year of trying without using any type of birth control method or protection. I do things like we call in vitro fertilization where we basically give women fertility drugs and harvest their eggs. I do things like donor egg where women donate eggs to a woman because her egg reserve isn't very good. I do surgery for fibroids. I do the gamut of what we call reproductive medicine. But I did train as a general OB/GYN and actually did deliver babies for a fair amount of time before I actually did this fellowship training.<br />
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<b>My maternal grandma had nine children. My paternal grandma had eight children. It's like they could sneeze and get pregnant. It seems that today women are having more difficulty having children. What has changed?</b><br />
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Well, I think the main thing that's changed is women are waiting longer to have children. My mother, her first pregnancy was age 18. Your grandmother probably had her first child at 16 or 17. Nowadays, people are waiting until they're in their mid-twenties, if not thirties, before they are attempting to conceive and it's because of going to school, lifestyle, finances, all those kinds of things.<br />
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I call it lifestyle infertility in the sense that as women we are made to have children when we're younger. The prime childbearing ages are between 21 to, maybe, 35. Actually, fertility starts to decline at about age 28. The main reason I see couples having problems is that they wait and don't start to have a family, or don't even start thinking about having a family, until they're in their late twenties, early thirties. That is probably the main reason that we're seeing such a rapid increase in problems with fertility.<br />
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Also, our society does not promote childbearing in the sense that we're trying to build our careers when we're in our twenties. I finished medical school at 26 and didn't finish residency until I was 30, so I didn't get married until I was 30 and didn't have my first child until I was 32. Thank God I didn't have a fertility problem, but I think that is the primary reason across all races and across all classes. People are waiting later to start a family.<br />
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</script></span></center><b>Your fertility starts to diminish at 28?</b><br />
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Yeah. I'm not trying to scare anybody. It actually does start to decline slightly at about age 28. I give a talk to residents who are in training. Most people who are in training are in their late twenties/early thirties. And of course everybody's frightened, but there is a slight decline in your late twenties and then over the age of 35 there's a significant decline in fertility.<br />
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For example, if you're under the age of 30, your chances of getting pregnant on any given month are about 20 percent. Human reproduction is very inefficient. At the end of the year, approximately 80 to 85 percent of people will be pregnant. And in another six months, maybe another five percent, which leaves about 10 percent of people who are infertile. If you're 40, your chances of getting pregnant on any given month are only about 10 percent.<br />
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Which means that at the end of the year, only about 50 percent of people who are 40 and over are going to be pregnant. Also, as you get older, there's an increased risk of miscarriage because of genetic problems with the eggs. As eggs get older, there are more genetic errors. Anybody has about a 25 percent risk of having a miscarriage. When you're 40, the miscarriage rate is more like 40 percent. That's just normal. That is a normal process that happens throughout life. We know Black don't crack, but everyone's eggs get old. if you wait until you're 40 to really start thinking about having a family, you probably have about a 60 percent chance of not getting pregnant and not having a child.<br />
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That is a huge thing that most people don't understand. They see Janet Jackson had a baby at 50, but we in the fertility world know that she probably had egg donation. Somebody probably donated an egg to her. People say, "Oh yeah, I have plenty of time. I can't wait till I'm 50, etc." Which is really not the case.<br />
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I saw this thing about Gabrielle Union. I don't think she started fertility treatments until she was in her forties. It's unfortunate that she had all those miscarriages, but her chances of getting pregnant at 40 we're very much decreased even with the technology. Even though we have all this technology, we cannot change how old your eggs are. We can do fertility treatments. There's all kinds of information on this that people don't know.<br />
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For example, if you go to the CDC website that talks about fertility programs all across the country and you look at the age, you will see that under 30 people have about a 50 to 60 percent chance of getting pregnant if they have to use technology. But if they're over the age of 40, their chances of getting pregnant are less than 10 percent. Over the age of 42, they don't even keep statistics because the chance of getting pregnant is less than five percent. That is a huge thing that has been misrepresented in the media. I'm not trying to scare people. People do get pregnant. I'm not saying they don't, but if you have to use technology to get pregnant over the age of 40, the chances dramatically decrease, especially if you want to use your own eggs.<br />
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<b>You're absolutely right. That's so much of the messaging we get around these innovations with fertility treatments. I just imagined that that means we have a longer window. You're saying the window has not expanded.</b><br />
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Well, we have a longer window if you're willing to use someone else's eggs.<br />
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The American Society of Reproductive Medicine does say that we can help people get pregnant up to the age of 55 in this country. But with a younger woman's eggs. A younger woman under the age of 35 will donate her eggs to the woman. Your uterus works. A 70-year-old woman's uterus can work, but the egg quality and the egg number dramatically decreases.<br />
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There is a decrease in male fertility as well. Not as dramatically, but there is a slightly increased risk of birth defects if the man is older as well.<br />
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Age is huge, and one of the things that really bothers me that I see with African American women is they do not get referred to me when I can really make a change and I can really help. I'm seeing African American women at much later ages, and I think it's just because you're not getting the information.<br />
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Even some of the general OB/GYNs are not referring people because they even don't really think about this as much. Then I see them. I get so angry sometimes because I'm seeing you at 42. African American women tend to have fibroids, which can make it somewhat difficult to carry a pregnancy. So I'm seeing you at 42. If you're over 35, we want to see you after six months of trying.<br />
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Then you come to me at 42, and I'm telling you you need to do egg donation and your head is spinning, It's really frustrating, and I really wanted to get the word out there that if having your own genetic child is extremely important to you, then that needs to be high on your priority list. Maybe even before your career. Do you understand what I'm saying?<br />
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<b>Yep</b>.<br />
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Let's talk about egg freezing. We can freeze your eggs when you're younger, but, generally, the oldest we recommend freezing eggs is age 37. We don't recommend doing it before age 30.<br />
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Although our Reproductive Medicine Society doesn't, necessarily, recommend doing that for social reasons. Usually, we recommend doing that because someone maybe has cancer or some other thing like that, but more and more people are doing it for social reasons because they want to have that insurance policy.<br />
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I think our society needs to change in the sense that we need to make it possible for women to pursue a career and have children.<br />
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<b>Let's say, hypothetically, that I'm a 31-year-old woman. I don't have a partner. I want to be married before I have children, and I know that I definitely want to have children. Should I look into freezing my eggs?</b><br />
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I would say give it a couple of years. I would say by 33 if you don't have a partner that's an option. The other thing is you can do donor sperm. I have a lot of single women and same-sex couples who decide to do donor sperm. The only thing about that, once again, is as you get older, even with donor sperm, your chances decrease.<br />
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I would say if you're not in a relationship, or it's not on the foreseeable horizon, I would say definitely consider freezing around age 33/34. And that's what the literature suggests as well because at least that gives you a chance. Whereas let's say you say you don't meet the person until you're 40. 40-year-old eggs don't work as well.<br />
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I would say definitely consider it if that genetic link is extremely important to you.<br />
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</script></span></center><b>If I freeze my eggs now, I don't need to be worried that in 10 years there's going to be problems with implantation or with the quality of eggs. They're frozen and it doesn't change.</b><br />
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It doesn't change. Things can stay frozen indefinitely. That's how good the science is for that. Although, the chances of getting pregnant with a frozen egg are a little bit less than it was then with a fresh egg the egg quality does not change. If you decide not to use them until you're 40, the quality is going to be from when you froze them at 32.<br />
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You do have to do what we call in-vitro in the sense that you just can't put sperm around those eggs. You'd actually have to inject sperm into those eggs because the freezing process does change how the egg interacts with the sperm. They can stay frozen indefinitely, which is the beauty of it.<br />
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<b>Wow. That's, that's a bright spot. But of course, I'm sure that a huge impediment to getting your eggs frozen is the cost. How expensive is this?</b><br />
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We're talking about around $10,000 to $15,000.<br />
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<b>Oh my gosh.</b><br />
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It's not cheap by any stretch of the imagination. Then there's an annual fee to keep the eggs frozen, which actually really isn't that much. It's about $250 to $300.<br />
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Some of the costs are the fertility medicines that are used to stimulate the ovaries. The other costs are the laboratory stuff, the high tech stuff that we have to do in the lab to freeze the eggs. Also, the procedures that we use to get the eggs, so it's certainly not cheap. For a lot of women, that's a huge barrier. I'm not going to say it's not because it definitely is.<br />
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For the most part, if you're doing it for "social indications," it's out of pocket. I have heard people say that some of their employers may help pay for women getting their eggs frozen. But, generally, it's a drop in the bucket.<br />
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But once again, a part of it has to do with how we view society and is that a good thing to promote people to delay childbearing versus change some of our policies?<br />
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In some states, for example, in Massachusetts, New York, New Jersey, Connecticut, and, I think, Illinois, I a lot of fertility treatments are covered by insurance. But, generally, not egg freezing.<br />
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There is an organization called Fertility for Colored Girls. It's out of Illinois. That does provide grants for fertility. You have to apply for it. I think they provide up to $10,000, but those kinds of things are few and far between.<br />
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The other thing I would say though is if we see people earlier in their fertility course, sometimes they don't need to do high tech fertility treatment. Sometimes all they need is medication or maybe they need inseminations which are much, much, much, much cheaper option. Generally, when we get to the high tech stuff, people have tried everything else and they're older and that's what we have to do.<br />
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<b>Let's talk about Black women and fertility. From everything I've read, Black women have higher rates of infertility than women of other races. Is that true?</b><br />
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Yeah, that is true. I think it's about one and a half times greater [than white women]. And there are many factors. You might've heard of a condition called polycystic ovarian syndrome. Black women have that just as much as any other ethnic group. We tend to have problems with our uterus more. We have fibroids. That is not necessarily a problem that affects fertility, but it can be a reason for miscarriage. We tend to have more obesity.<br />
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One of the major things I'm seeing nowadays with people not being able to get pregnant is what I call obesity-related infertility. Having extra weight on your body may cause you not to ovulate and also is associated with miscarriage as well as birth defects.<br />
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As you know, there's a huge obesity epidemic among Black women. I'm tending to see a lot more of what I call ovulatory dysfunction related to obesity as well. Obesity causes complications with pregnancy, too. I'm seeing a lot of that in some places.<br />
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<b>I've seen people say that a part of the reason why we're experiencing such high rates of infertility is because of our diet. Is diet of a factor in infertility?</b><br />
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We tend to have more obesity, which is related to our diet, and when you're obese, you have what we call insulin resistance, which can interfere with you ovulating properly. So yes, I think diet is a factor because what we eat contributes to obesity.<br />
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I'd say about 60 to 70 percent of my patients are obese. I talk until I'm blue in my face about losing weight because we do know that fertility treatments don't work as well if you are overweight or obese. So if you're doing high tech fertility treatment, we're giving you injections with a tiny needle underneath the skin. If you've got a huge layer of fat, you're not going to absorb your medications properly.<br />
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<b>So it's not the hormones or anything. It's not the chemicals in processed food? It's the actual weight on your body.</b><br />
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I think it's a combination of all of those things. You can't really tease it all out.<br />
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I think it is processed food. I think it is the chemicals. We do know that what we call endocrine disruptors that interfere with your normal hormonal milieu in your body. So I think is a combination of all of that.<br />
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Absolutely. That makes perfect sense. Another genre of comments that we get a lot when we post stories about women battling infertility is people blaming it on birth control or IUDs. They're saying that disrupts your body's natural processes.<br />
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I'm saying no. Certainly being on a birth control pill is going to change your hormones while you're on it, but once you stop it, you should be able to get pregnant. I was on birth control for most of my life until I decided I wanted to have children, so that's, generally, not the case. With the IUD, as soon as you take this out, you can get pregnant.<br />
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I'd say 90 to 95 percent of people who stopped their birth control method are able to get pregnant once they stop it, so I don't agree with that. I know there are all kinds of conspiracy theories.<br />
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"We're trying to control Black woman's reproduction, whatever, whatever." But in general, most people are able to get pregnant after they stopped those birth control methods relatively quickly. And once again, I've done general OB/GYN and you know, there is a subset of people who have a fertility issue that is not related to being on a birth control method. So I don't ascribe to those kinds of conspiracy theories that it is going to destroy Black women's ability to conceive because that really hasn't been borne out because most people are not infertile.<br />
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We're talking about 10 to 15 percent of women have a fertility problem. With Black women, it's probably more about 15 percent but 85 percent don't. I don't think you can say that a birth control method is the cause of this increase in infertility.<br />
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</script></span></center><b>You mentioned that people have to be referred to you as a specialist. If I have questions, and I'm just going to go see my regular OB/GYN for a pap smear, I need to say to them, "I want to have a baby or I'm concerned." And then they have to then say, "Okay, well you need to see so and so."</b><br />
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Not necessarily. A lot of my patients are actually self-referral. I have a lot of patients that just do their own research, go on the website, look up infertility specialists and self-refer, so you don't have to be referred through an OB/GYN. A lot of patients are, but you don't have to.<br />
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In my particular practice, because women want to go to women, I have a lot of patients that have just done their research on the web and have found me that way. You can go directly to an infertility specialist especially if you think that you might have a problem. The problem is that people don't know that they can do that.<br />
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<b>Are you accepting new patients?</b><br />
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Yes, I am. I'm in Jacksonville, Florida and I work for. I'm a practice called <b><a href="https://www.brownfertility.com/about-us/our-providers/lori-hollins-md/" target="_blank">Brown Fertility</a>.</b>For Harriethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09683917312535044896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8459894049343832940.post-66381513760828929822018-11-03T12:26:00.002-05:002018-11-03T12:54:05.237-05:00Despite Trump's efforts, Stacey Abrams' credentials cannot be denied.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b>by Kimberly Foster//</b><br />
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After 2016, I thought I was done with politics. But in these two years, we’ve seen so much policy that harms marginalized people being pushed and passed across the country, that I realized sitting out of this system is not an option. The people who hold the most power are only going to make things worse. </div>
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And once I got educated on the work that Republicans have been doing to keep voters of color, young people and poor people from the polls, I got even more fired up. Now, I’m all in. I think November 6 is going to be a good day for Democrats across the country, and I will be heartbroken if my favorites lose. </div>
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Stacey Abrams is one of the people I’m really pulling for. Though I have to admit that I wasn’t immediately on the Abrams train because I didn’t think she had a chance. I was wrong. And as I’ve learned more about her, the work she’s done to expand the electorate in Georgia, and her political skills, I've gotten more invested. </div>
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At this point, her race is a statistical tie. She will win if she can overcome <a href="https://www.washingtonpost.com/politics/2018/11/03/judge-rules-against-brian-kemp-over-georgia-voting-restrictions-days-before-gubernatorial-election/"><b>Brian Kemp’s</b> attempts</a> to steal votes. But there’s no guarantee she’ll be able to do that. Systemic voter disenfranchisement is out of her hands, and that’s what’s most frightening.</div>
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I’ll shed a tear if the outcome isn’t the one I’d prefer on Tuesday. </div>
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Abrams victory in the primary could not happen if she weren’t an exceptionally talented woman. Her being tied with a Republican in what used to be the heart of the Confederacy is the product of Herculean effort. I am as amazed by her abilities as I am disgusted by the attempts to minimize her. I know it doesn’t make sense to keep riled up by Trump’s bigotry, but I can't help it. </div>
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This week he said to the press, "I like Oprah, but the woman that she's supporting is not qualified to be the governor of Georgia by any stretch of the imagination."</div>
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He is, of course, talking about Abrams. </div>
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Unbelievable is the only word that comes to mind. I believe in the importance of credentials and experience. I thought other people did too, but that man is in the White House. Those of us who believe in competent people running government have been consistently horrified by the people Donald Trump surrounds himself with. If you’re going to come into the highest office in the land knowing absolutely nothing, at least build a team of smart, knowledgeable people. Trump hasn't done that. This is the <a href="https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/wonk/wp/2017/01/20/what-trumps-whiter-less-academic-cabinet-says-about-race-and-class-in-america/?utm_term=.28dd06845c56">least educated</a> cabinet in 26 years. For the past two years, we’ve been inundated with stories about the disturbingly high levels of incompetence in every department. </div>
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Was Ben Carson qualified to run HUD? Was Rex Tillerson qualified to be Secretary of State? Was Rick Perry qualified to lead the Department of Energy? What are Jared Kushner’s credentials to be making Middle East policy? There's a report out saying Trump offered the job of UN Ambassador to a woman whose previous occupation was Fox News host. I could go on.</div>
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Why is it that the only time he's talking about credentials and qualifications is when he's talking about people of color? Curio couldn’t be a competent judge because he’s Mexican, and Trump has a history of calling Black people stupid. It never sticks, but it’s downright laughable when aimed at the woman poised to claim the governorship in a state once thought to be solidly red. </div>
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Doesn’t Donald Trump love Ivy League schools? After all, he did send this tweet to discredit Andrew Gillum, another Black person on the verge of a historic win.<br />
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In Florida there is a choice between a Harvard/Yale educated man named <a href="https://twitter.com/RonDeSantisFL?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">@RonDeSantisFL</a> who has been a great Congressman and will be a great Governor - and a Dem who is a thief and who is Mayor of poorly run Tallahassee, said to be one of the most corrupt cities in the Country!</div>
— Donald J. Trump (@realDonaldTrump) <a href="https://twitter.com/realDonaldTrump/status/1056922209111994373?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">October 29, 2018</a></blockquote>
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A Yale education is a boon for DeSantis, the man racists think is racist. But you know who else went to Yale? Stacey Abrams. She graduated from the same law school as Brett Kavanaugh. Her opponent has no terminal degree.<br />
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And Abrams does have experience navigating Georgia politics. She was minority leader of the Georgia state legislature from 2011 to 2017. While there, she <a href="http://amp.timeinc.net/time/5349541/stacey-abrams-georgia?__twitter_impression=true"><b>stopped the largest tax increase in Georgia state history</b></a> by discovering a math error. I thought Republicans hated taxes?</div>
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Stacey Abrams is a politician so skilled Oprah fly into Georgia to stump for her. The Queen of media knocked on suburban Atlanta doors and shared the stage for public events.<br />
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Mike Pence, obviously threatened by the flood of attention that comes with an endorsement from one of the most famous women in the world responded at a Kemp rally. </div>
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“I heard Oprah was in town today. And I heard Will Ferrell was going door-to-door the other day. Well I’d like to remind Stacey and Oprah and Will Ferrell — I'm kind of a big deal, too. And I’ve got a message for all of Stacey Abrams’s liberal Hollywood friends: This ain’t Hollywood. This is Georgia.”</blockquote>
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The Republican Party forfeited it’s right to claim they’re above entertainment when they elected a reality tv star who stays on the road to meet his fans. But we only need to go back a couple weeks ago to see the glaring hypocrisy.<br />
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<br />
Donald Trump could not have been happier to praise a MAGA-hatted Kanye West and welcome him into the White House. The Trump who spent 30 years getting as close to famous people we like as possible wishes he was one of them. Celebrity is frivolous to these people now because celebrities can’t stand them. </div>
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I know why her resume doesn’t matter. Black people in the United States have long known that there is no credential that will sway a racist committed to believing you inferior. But I think I point out the lies racists tell about merit because they use them to gaslight the rest of us. When we see the goalposts moving, they call us the paranoid race-baiters. Abram is a brilliant woman and sterling candidate, and no one can take that from her.<br />
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<b><i>Kimberly Foster is the founder and editor-in-chief of For Harriet.</i></b></div>
For Harriethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09683917312535044896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8459894049343832940.post-20120226538590553082018-10-30T09:44:00.000-05:002018-10-30T14:10:48.305-05:00The Green Laundress wants to lead a clean living revolution that starts at home<img border="0" data-original-height="742" data-original-width="720" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxpC6OoFbEp9l3WqgbkX-bDfDEenAVZOBHtekPjCIrgko148tYR8JTOx5DZGilPYnc2tpEFPRYy7VpUvP_qwAylZTRSJ3RWxHRIIgGud56iXqEsKY1ZTHbBjfdUOklMOcOWk9Pcct1p87L/s1600/HeadShot.PNG" width="100%" /><br />
<br />
Erica Ahmed’s journey into entrepreneurship began more than a decade ago with the birth of a new baby. Her daughter had sensitive skin that nothing could fix. “There was a paucity of resources available, and what was there just didn’t work,” she said.<br />
<br />
Ms. Ahmed, who works in public health, set out to make something that would cure her daughter’s skin issues completely.<br />
<br />
Like countless Black woman before her, she began in her kitchen. “I started researching and experimenting until I came up with the right combination of natural, non-toxic ingredients,” Ahmed told <i>For Harriet</i>.<br />
<br />
The process wasn’t easy. The budding businesswoman wasn’t a trained chemist, so testing and trials took time. But once she succeeded, the first products, that would later become her natural cleaning brand <a href="http://thegreenlaundress.com/index.html" target="_blank">The Green Laundress</a> were born.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQmXxlFym8oAYVT6-BSroZc5KTOC_Qu8eiTfNsTt11bTlnaSLDwKchLHyYMs0ov9_-4-LTqZv0GxPbZLHtQBZCzNTCjtnvDhi1GGH6A_K1UjR3HJNkAa3n5kHlEe5fr8TB5X2oM0RwqfRm/s1600/Pailpic.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQmXxlFym8oAYVT6-BSroZc5KTOC_Qu8eiTfNsTt11bTlnaSLDwKchLHyYMs0ov9_-4-LTqZv0GxPbZLHtQBZCzNTCjtnvDhi1GGH6A_K1UjR3HJNkAa3n5kHlEe5fr8TB5X2oM0RwqfRm/s320/Pailpic.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Ms. Ahmed’s ingenuity came right on time. The marketplace is now ripe for natural cleaning brands. We’re witnessing a societal shift toward personal wellness and environmental protection that makes the benefits of a greener lifestyle clear.<br />
<br />
Most consumers have no idea how many toxins we encounter every day or how much harm they do to our bodies. Exposure to unsafe chemicals carries great risk to women and children, in particular.<br />
<a href="https://www.figo.org/sites/default/files/uploads/News/Final%20PDF_8462.pdf" target="_blank"><br />
</a> <a href="https://www.figo.org/sites/default/files/uploads/News/Final%20PDF_8462.pdf" target="_blank"> In 2015, the International Federation of Gynecology and Obstetrics</a> stated that “widespread exposure to toxic environmental chemicals threatens healthy human reproduction.”<br />
<br />
The American Lung Association warns that a host of products; including aerosol sprays, ammonia, bleach, detergent, as well as kitchen and bathroom cleaners, <a href="https://www.lung.org/our-initiatives/healthy-air/indoor/indoor-air-pollutants/cleaning-supplies-household-chem.html" target="_blank">can cause an array of respiratory illnesses and even cancer</a>.<br />
<br />
And according to the Environmental Working Group, a non-profit organization focused on raising awareness on environmental and public health, many of the most harmful products rarely list all their ingredients on their labels, thus denying consumers of the ability to make an informed purchasing decision. They tested cleaning products and found that <a href="https://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/09/10/worst-household-cleaners-cleaning-products_n_1871420.html" target="_blank">53% contained products</a> that harm your lungs.<br />
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Green Laundress products aim to be safe and effective. They contain pure essential oils to scent scrubs and sprays instead of fragrances that are often the culprit of respiratory issues. Gone are the days of having to air out a freshly cleaned room because of overpowering fumes. “You can actually inhale deeply without choking or fainting,” Ms. Ahmed said.<br />
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Switching your cleaning products is an essential part of living a healthy life, according to her. “I think it’s important for people to understand the importance of comprehensive wellness. You want to eat well. You want to clean greener. Exercise. Take care of yourself. It all goes together.”<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs80nLLRvm-v0EHRA4L_Q-0MoODl4vMGuVK5n0i3J_Umwf-oCMDgQ3gwDAF22fDRJRSfB8xkCLXq5rXgBYUwN24PF9rbJv-CSflg7u-YwYdKmcTZvbfEkdjxxO1NBv7E7yqlRCQPj1CW2T/s1600/Woods1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="441" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs80nLLRvm-v0EHRA4L_Q-0MoODl4vMGuVK5n0i3J_Umwf-oCMDgQ3gwDAF22fDRJRSfB8xkCLXq5rXgBYUwN24PF9rbJv-CSflg7u-YwYdKmcTZvbfEkdjxxO1NBv7E7yqlRCQPj1CW2T/s320/Woods1.jpg" width="220" /></a></div>
But even when we know better, the transition to using new products can be difficult, and not just because of how well the harsher ingredients work. Ms. Ahmed knows how effective their branding is “I remember what my parents cleaned with when I was a child and how those messages and (commercial) jingles are forever entrenched in my mind.”<br />
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Ultimately, it all comes down to if Green Laundress products get the job done. If you’re used to harsh cleaning agents like Comet and Pinesol, you’re probably skeptical of the effectiveness of natural products. Ahmed insists that hers is a better way. “We have been conditioned to believe that the only way to clean is with harsh chemicals.”<br />
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Surely, our ancestors didn’t use what many of us use now, yet their homes and clothing were immaculate. Nor did they eat what we eat—Again, comprehensive health—It all goes together.”<br />
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Growing a company is almost always an uphill climb, but she’s dedicated to making sure our communities can live and breathe well.<br />
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“Cleaning greener isn’t super sexy or exciting, yet it is so critical to our health and overall quality of life.”<br />
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<br />For Harriethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09683917312535044896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8459894049343832940.post-86708029169623413312018-09-11T12:59:00.000-05:002018-09-11T13:03:12.635-05:00Can You Wear Extensions Ethically? This Entrepreneur Makes It Possible<img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDhmJBxBWMi7ktrfhCqv4Lt0Xr3L2s6VGfL5DqFfb34AFePh-nC1RLBOlN4_Dy7qzRmVsaFzOt5dK9ZQsa8Kc0UvHeuz374xYqAhCCpStvV_KtMsRXuvXzeuGB05cBIBmzFN2ViX8uHTUi/s1600/AyuneHair_7ef9f7df-42ab-4390-9d66-2692aee465d5_2048x.jpeg" width="100%" /><br />
<br />
Back in 2009, Chris Rock attempted to shed light on the practices used to acquire human hair extensions in his documentary "Good Hair." Rock's exploration of an integral part of many Black women's experiences was less than stellar, but it opened up a conversation about the women whose hair we wear. Rock depicted Asian women shaving their hair temples to offer ass a sacrifice. That<br />
<br />
While debates about the aesthetics and costs of hair extensions are common, we're less inclined to think deeply about where the hair come from, and, more importantly, if the hair donor is abused or exploited in the process of collecting bundles.<br />
<br />
Valerie Ogoke started <a href="https://ayunehair.com/" target="_blank">Ayune Hair</a>, an ethically sourced human hair extensions company, so women can enjoy the versatility of wearing weaves without participating in exploitative practices.<br />
<br />
<b>THIS CONVERSATION IS AVAILABLE AS A PODCAST EXCLUSIVELY TO <a href="http://patreon.com/forharriet">SUBSCRIBERS OF OUR PATREON</a>.</b><br />
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</script></span></center><b>I have read up about your company, and I am obsessed. I, literally, want to know everything.</b><br />
<br />
Well, thank you for agreeing to chat with me. I actually was really excited when you shared that post about where you showed a video of a woman getting her hair cut for hair extensions, and the question was like, "Do we really know where our hair extensions come from?" Well, for me, that question flickered in my mind about two years ago. <br />
<br />
I'm originally from California, but I've been living in Australia for, I would say, about five years, and around March of 2016, I decided to move to Bali, Indonesia, with my partner. During that time, I was rocking my natural hair, and I wanted to change up my look, as we all do and try out extensions, but in searching for hair extension, I didn't feel like any of the companies resonated with my journey, and I decided to take a back seat, move to Bali, and just focus on my spiritual journey. <br />
<br />
In that spiritual journey, I really started to question, "Okay, I really don't actually know where these hair extensions come from and how are they sourced. How are the women being treated?" That was the beginning of my journey of creating the brand <a href="https://ayunehair.com/" target="_blank">Ayune Hair</a>. In creating that, the focus was making sure that it was ethically sourced, making sure that women are actually being paid for their hair extensions, and that no one was being mistreated or deceived during this process.<br />
<br />
I also wanted to get into a more sustainable frame of thought, making sure that this was something that had longevity and it wasn't that there would be a point where hair would be mixed with synthetic hair, which happens actually more often than we think it does. <br />
<br />
I think if you just think about, in general, the way we as humans consume quite a bit, and something there's not quite enough to go around, and so what a lot of companies do is they find ways to mix things and make sure that it lasts a little bit longer in order to increase their profit. But, for me, I wanted to make sure this was fair for everyone and that no one was being deceived in the process.<br />
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<b>This is amazing. I am an almost 30-year-old black woman. I have been around a lot of weave. It really never occurred to me until fairly recently that I should be morally concerned about where hair extensions come from, and so I'm just wondering, before you made that trek to Bali and decided to pursue that spiritual journey, did you have any emotional tug or moral tug about where this hair comes from?</b><br />
<br />
Yeah. Well, I left America in 2012 because I realized that I wanted to find my happiness and what that looked like, and it's interesting when you leave your comfort zone, all of these new experiences come in, and in one of those experiences was the fact that I realized that we were all interconnected, that what I did just naturally impacts other people around me. So that was always flickering into my mind, and then, in terms of the hair extensions, it didn't really cross my mind because I wasn't necessarily wearing hair extensions. I was wearing braids when I first moved over, and then when I decided to buy hair extensions that is when the concern popped in my mind. I'm like, "I don't even know where this hair comes from."<br />
<br />
I know a lot of us do look at AliXpress, and I saw them using pictures from other brands, so I just really didn't know who to trust. That was one part. And then I was just concerned that, "Am I supporting something that is disempowering another woman?"<br />
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<b>Absolutely. So where did your research begin?</b><br />
<br />
Literally, online, like all of us. What do we first do when we have a question? We start Googling it, right? And we're like, "Okay, how does the process work," because I've been natural for 10 years, so my journey was just rocking my natural hair in braids. I just started Googling and trying to figure out what's the step-by-step process, and I realized the most common thing, I think we all know, is that it's sourced from Indian temples, right? I think that's what we initially think, because women usually in poorer areas in India go to temples to sacrifice. It's a spiritual sacrifice to gods.That was all I knew.<br />
<br />
The other part is that usually men travel trough really rural areas around Southeast Asia or even in China, and they just cut hair, but what I didn't realize is that no one was really getting paid for any of this. So that was a huge concern. I'm like, "Who's making the money?" Because there's a 300% profit that these people are getting, because they're not necessarily paying these women anything.<br />
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<b>Wait, so they're not getting paid any money?</b><br />
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Very, very little, and when I really started to reach out to vendors, I don't ever tell people my intentions because I want them to be very honest with me, so I just asked them, "So, what is your relationship with the women that you're sourcing hair from?" And they don't know what my intentions are, so they always tell me the truth, because I don't think they know the vision that I have of making sure that the women are treated fairly. A lot of times, they would tell me that they would just give them food and water, or they would give them very little, so it was concerning that other people were making a lot of money, but the women who were providing the hair extensions weren't really getting anything out of it. That was the first thing.<br />
<br />
The other thing is how sustainable is it for a woman to cut their hair. We start at 14 inches, right? But a lot of us go to 18, 20, 22, sometimes 24 inches. That's a lot of hair off of one head. How sustainable is that? So my other question is, "Are we really wearing real human hair extensions?"<br />
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<b>In my peak weave days when I was really priding myself on buying the most expensive Malaysian, I feel like I've maybe paid like $200 a bundle, maybe even more. I feel like it's a lot of money, and especially if you're buying two or three ... that's hundred of dollars, That's crazy to me.</b><br />
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Yeah. It's really concerning. I was actually really excited when, I believe, Refinery29 just recently shared a short docuseries where I think they were in Vietnam, and it was the same discussion, "Are these women being paid?" The answer was, "No, they're not really getting that much out of it." I do think, and we're not really pointing fingers here, because the whole point of this is to practice mindfulness, like it's impossible for us to be perfect. We can't save the world, but we can try to be more mindful about the things that we do throughout our lives, so if we're in a financial space where we can afford to support something that is more uplifting for the conscious customer, then let's do that, but if we can't, don't beat yourself up for that. It's really just we're not playing a blame game. We're just trying to be more mindful.<br />
<br />
<b>Absolutely. You mentioned something I'm so curious about, the sustainability part. I never thought about this before, but there is no way that all this weave is human hair. I never considered it, but can you talk a little bit more about the mixing of human hair with synthetic hair and how we might be getting duped and buying the super, super expensive weave that's not even real.</b><br />
<br />
Yeah. I should start with saying that this is not everyone. I'm sure there are a lot of businesses that are selling real, human hair extensions, so we're not painting everyone as the same kind of deceptive business owner. I think one of the telltale signs is if you're buying three bundles for $150-$200, it's likely that it's mixed with synthetic hair. That's one. <br />
<br />
In my research in trying to find hair extensions, Malaysian hair extensions are not really a thing. There are Cambodian hair extensions, there are Indonesian, there are Vietnamese; but in searching Malaysia, there wasn't any ... and the same for Brazilian. One thing is that, for sustainable hair extensions; for me, it's all about how the natural process of how our hair strands fall. Every day we have 50 to 100 hair strands that fall out of our scalp, so these women, in particular from my business, they collect their hair strands, which is really meticulous and time consuming but it ensures that they never feel pressured to cut their hair. Because what we're trying to bring back is choice, rather than pressure.<br />
<br />
We all have close connections with our natural hair and sometimes, we wanna shave it and that's fine. But sometimes we wanna just rock our natural hair and so, we have to be mindful that other women feel the same way. Especially indigenous people. And so what our women do is, they collect their hair strands and then they sell it. <br />
<br />
And so, this is a sustainable process because naturally, you have so much hair that falls out of your hair a day and sometimes you can have about 150 hair strands. What they do is, they just collect it all and then they sell it to our vendors. So then, we never collect any hair that's actually cut from a woman's head. And so they never, ever feel like they have to do that because of their financial circumstances.<br />
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</script></span></center><b>Malaysian hair is not a real thing?</b><br />
<b><br />
</b> When I lived in Indonesia for a year, I often went to Malaysia and Singapore and different places; and in searching for actual Malaysian hair, I did not find that. And in doing research and watching other documentaries, they didn't find it either. <br />
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Just from my research, I did not find any. And also, if people know about Malaysia and the different cultures; there are the Malays, which look more Indonesian and then you have a lot of south Indians.<br />
<br />
So potentially, if someone is sourcing hair from Malaysia, it's probably just Indian hair. But, yeah. I would be very cautious.<br />
<br />
I think people should probably be more mindful of what are the chances that this is Brazilian hair?<br />
<br />
What are the chances that women are actually cutting their hair in Brazil? When I was in Los Angeles, I spoke to a Brazilian who used to sell hair extensions and he said that there were no Brazilian hair. He didn't get them from Brazil.<br />
<br />
<b>Wow. Okay, so let's talk about your company [Ayune Hair]. After doing this initial research, when did you decide that you wanted to start a hair extensions company?</b><br />
<br />
Initially, the beginning of my move to Indonesia was a spiritual journey in understanding my connection to everything around me. And then, I had kinda epiphany that I could align my desire to share my passion for kindness and compassion with beauty, so I began researching. And what I decided to do was eventually travel to the villages.<br />
<br />
I was venturing to the unknown, but what I realized was that really made it an authentic journey for me because I was there with the vendors, I was there meeting with women, I was there interacting with the people in the different villages. I remember just talking with my translator and he was saying people were shocked because they hadn't really seen such a young, black woman walking around and engaging. They didn't understand that. I thought it was so vital that I was present in every, single part of the journey to creating Ayune hair ... to show that I really do care that these women are treated fairly.<br />
<br />
<b>You mentioned something I think is really interesting. In this space there are relatively few black women, despite the fact that we are such huge consumers of hair extensions. I feel like I can only name a couple ... maybe, three or four ... black women-owned hair extension companies.</b><br />
<br />
Yeah. I'm originally from Los Angeles, California. I remember visiting home and driving around and just seeing that every beauty supply was ... I don't know if I actually saw a beauty supply that was owned by a Black woman because it was predominately Koreans, and not to say anything bad about them owning it, but it was a bit disheartening that ... as you said, the consumers are Black women. We have a huge buying power and yet, the owners, or the people who are making a profit, are not Black ... the majority of them.<br />
<br />
So I wanted to encourage us to take that power back. We know this better than anyone else because we are the consumers, so shouldn't we be selling to ourselves? That was actually quite interesting, but I feel excited because there's a lot of opportunity for us to become thriving business owners and to share our passions with our fellow sisters.<br />
<br />
<b>When I've spoken to black women who are opening beauty supply stores, they've talked to me about some of the obstacles of breaking into that industry. And I've been so fascinated by how closed the beauty supply industry is. You mentioned Korean people dominate the industry and, of course, they have their networks. And this is not to say anything bad about Korean entrepreneurs, that's not the point. The point is some of those closed networks are very difficult to penetrate. Have you found that to be true?</b><br />
<b><br />
</b> I found that, initially, some vendors weren't taking me seriously and they were all men. That was another thing. And so, I think they were a little bit taken aback because they're used to working, probably, with men and then, probably with non ... anything but a black woman.<br />
<br />
I really didn't let that faze me. It's one of those things where if one door closes, another one opens. It was just about continuing to push forward and I really believed that if I continued being authentic and transparent in following my truth, the right people would align with me. That was what, kind of, kept me going.<br />
<br />
<b>Let's talk about your sourcing. You don't have to disclose any trade secrets, but I am interested in knowing as much as you'd like to share about how you get the hair that you sell.</b><br />
<br />
Right. I think I mentioned before, I spent a lot of time in the villages, and I intentionally took two years, well, now it's two years and four months, to create this business because I really wanted to make sure that I was involved in the process and I was hands-on, and I understood exactly how it was being worked.And so, I was physically there, present in the factories, in the villages.<br />
<br />
In terms of trade secrets, it's just being present and also creating a really, positive relationship with people. With the vendors, I wanted to share my passion with them ... my compassion ... I wanted to show them that I cared about them as much as I cared about this business. We often would have dinner. I would ask them about their kids. I wanted to make this, kind of, a family thing, like as a tribe. <br />
<br />
And make sure that they knew that I cared about them as much as I cared about the women, as much as I care about black women. I just wanted to share that compassion with everyone. I don't know if that's really a trade secret, but that was basically the focal point of the entire process of creating this brand.<br />
<br />
Again, we even went really deep into the villages and met other vendors and sat with them and the factory workers. One thing I was really excited about is that factory workers actually are treated fairly, in the sense that they have their lunch breaks, they're not overworked, they looked really happy. I went to several spaces and they didn't look unsettled or disgruntled. So I was really excited about that. Even in buying the hair extensions, because now I'm back in Australia, I pay more because the factory workers are getting raises, you know? And I appreciated them. I'm happy that they're actually being paid adequately as well as the women that are selling their hair to the vendors. <br />
<br />
<b>So, how do you find the women?</b><br />
<br />
Actually, the process that I'm supporting has been going on for quite some time, but not that many people support it. So in Indonesia, particularly, which is the starting point or the birth child of Ayune Hair, it's been happening for at least 30 years. It's not really something that's brand new, but it's just something that's kind of been under the rug and not brought to people's attention. The Indonesian women they've always been collecting their hair strands and selling them. But they've usually worked with very few people and they're usually men, so I wanted to bring a different perspective to the hair extension industry and show that these sustainable hair extensions are amazing, you know?<br />
<br />
The same ones [hair extensions] that I had tested two years, I still have to this day. There's longevity in it. It's a great product. In terms of finding the women, they've already been around way before I even came into the picture, so it was just really about bringing it to the forefront.<br />
<br />
<b>So no one is shaving their hair? They're collecting the hair that naturally falls out of their head?</b><br />
<br />
Yes. We are not saying that there's something wrong with someone shaving their hair. That is fine, but again, it's all about providing choice because not everyone wants to shave their hair. It's a little bit sad when a woman feels like there's no other choice but to shave off their hair or cut their hair. I mean, if they're in a financial situation where they have no food and that's their last hope, imagine how that feels. I always say, "Put yourself in that woman's shoes. How would you feel if you felt disempowered or that this was your only option?" That would feel horrible. You wouldn't want that to happen to you. I definitely wouldn't want it to happen to me. I think if I was ever pressured into anything, I would feel horrendous. I would be really unhappy for a very long time. So I'm just trying to change that so that these women actually do have a choice. <br />
<br />
<b> It seems like this process would take a long time to amass a single bundle of hair. How do you collect enough hair to sell?</b><br />
<br />
Well, that's the thing. They're collecting at least 100 hair strands a day. The thing is that we're talking about longevity rather than a fast turnover. In collecting the hair strands, it's almost like slow fashion. It takes a little bit of a longer time but you know that it's done in the correct way. You know when it's being disempowered in the process. So yeah, you're not going to get like 24 inch hair extensions. I stop at 22 because there's not as many women with that long enough hair to support extremely long hair extensions. And we just work on a small supply because we believe in this process. So yeah, it does take a little bit longer and there's not this huge abundance of it, but it's always going to be done the correct way. <br />
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</script></span></center><b>And how much are the women being paid?</b><br />
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Right. So it depends. We try to be a little bit discrete about that. It's all based on the weight. So, again, when women are collecting 100 hair strands a day, they usually sell it every two weeks and so it's more of an ongoing source of an income. It's not really a get rich thing. It's just providing an alternative source of income that's consistent. It's not like a one off where they get $100 and then that's it for two to three years, because you know it takes quite a long time to grow that length back to cut again. So it's more of providing a continuous flow of income for them.<br />
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<b>Let's get to the pricing of your product, Ayune Hair. If I want to buy 18 inches of hair, two bundles of 18 inch hair, how much would I pay?</b><br />
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That's a good question. The pricing works in a particular way because it's all about thinking about all the different stake holders that are involved before it even gets to the buyer. We have our various vendors, and there's different levels of vendors, so we deal with the vendors in the villages and then we deal with our higher level vendors who have a larger factory that can clean the product again so the hair is cleaned several times.<br />
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It's extremely time consuming because we're literally going through every single hair strand in choosing which ones are acceptable to sell and which ones aren't. Because you know, again, in this process the cuticles are not always perfectly aligned. So we're always looking for the best hair strands. So it's quite time consuming so it becomes a bit more of an expensive process. <br />
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But in terms of price, I don't have the prices directly in front of me, but the Australian prices range between, I believe, like $130 to $200. It's a little bit cheaper if you're in the US. It aligns perfectly with most well-known hair extension companies. There's no get rich scheme here. It's just providing an alternative for conscious women in particular, Black women all around the world, to be able to purchase something that aligns more with their morals. Or if they're very concerned about where their hair extensions come from, then they can support something that makes them really feel comfortable and they don't have to worry. And then they can celebrate the different layers of their beauty through their hair extensions and maybe they decide to take the hair extensions off and rock their natural hair, and then they put the hair extensions on later.<br />
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It's just about supporting a lot of women who are becoming more aware around the world and providing something that aligns with them.<br />
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<b>So you do ship to the United States?</b><br />
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Yes, we ship to the United States. We ship to the UK. We ship to Europe. Of course I have to ship to the United States because I am American, even though we're Australia-based, because, I couldn't forget about my fellow American sisters. <br />
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<b>Awesome. Have you gotten any investment for this business or are you completely boot strapping it?</b><br />
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Well, I am so grateful that I have an absolutely amazing Nigerian mother in the US right now that really believes in my mission, so she really assisted in the investment towards creating this. I didn't really share my story in terms of moving back to Australia. Our home is really Indonesia, so I feel most alive when I'm there. But unfortunately, due to some health issues, we had to come back and all of our initial investment money was put into hospital costs, so my amazing mother stepped in and helped to make sure that this brand came out. That's it for now, but we are looking for other investors who are interested in supporting conscious consumers.<br />
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<b>When you say "our" you have a partner?</b><br />
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</b> Yes, my partner is Austrailian. He was also on the same spiritual journey as me. He really believes in celebrating kindness. He also believes in the fact that we are all interconnected, so we built this business together.<br />
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For Harriethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09683917312535044896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8459894049343832940.post-45433469577356941282018-08-17T14:59:00.002-05:002018-08-17T16:02:18.227-05:00Afrikrea Marketplace Offers African Fashion for Women of Every Size<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFWRduK73gNrdjYJFhpy8ZwS_K0GrTQ7HJWGrsqMZLGdfMXWya5ZEWwJPzYn10S8t5lp6fzOZ3_tvYsuW-3Orwthf0ukWNpQ1PAFc3HD-B_mYH21tYUzweuIxx_qGrlo2PFVqYigdDOcsp/s1600/Screen+Shot+2018-08-17+at+10.50.24+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="950" data-original-width="1600" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFWRduK73gNrdjYJFhpy8ZwS_K0GrTQ7HJWGrsqMZLGdfMXWya5ZEWwJPzYn10S8t5lp6fzOZ3_tvYsuW-3Orwthf0ukWNpQ1PAFc3HD-B_mYH21tYUzweuIxx_qGrlo2PFVqYigdDOcsp/s640/Screen+Shot+2018-08-17+at+10.50.24+AM.png" width="100%" /></a></div><br />
It's a beautiful time to be Black. Despite the constant attacks on people of the African Diaspora, we're coming together in ways most of us have never witnessed. We're learning about our heritage and sharing elements of our culture with transatlantic siblings.<br />
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One way we can show our connection to the continent is what we wear and consume. The <a href="https://www.afrikrea.com/en" target="_blank">Afrikrea Marketplace</a> is a one-stop destination for you to find authentic art, crafts, and fashion made from African craftsmen.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRUgON0JcnBCceZNr6VSTYBoQdTntpI1PyY2Lgaowao-eRe3OrSuKl2FBV47v_1dqXG2CrHgP8vd2GZ1IKhhpfISDxKkUxTYHFt_mWg0hyEpOcDrOJ6Di0klhicjI1tpJNzxzTzPCY6Iam/s1600/9H3N9PZN-large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1070" data-original-width="714" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRUgON0JcnBCceZNr6VSTYBoQdTntpI1PyY2Lgaowao-eRe3OrSuKl2FBV47v_1dqXG2CrHgP8vd2GZ1IKhhpfISDxKkUxTYHFt_mWg0hyEpOcDrOJ6Di0klhicjI1tpJNzxzTzPCY6Iam/s640/9H3N9PZN-large.jpg" width="100%" /></a></div><br />
Not only is this an incredible opportunity for consumers, but the marketplace offers creators the chance to get their products in front of a global audience.<br />
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At a time where our culture is routinely co-opted for the benefit of others, it's nice to be able to support our own.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibbflideSLpORyRFGYy6Bbaw1RV-Vm0xL3yMA88YE34b2Hxi1TN8jkDs81QgLhn3k-Vzk3sewiNqWDTQlkckbpjO2Lf1wPYHnCpyaP1I0dDCA4kb_GWHwUZQ1TflvQanII9dBORDGiOn9h/s1600/4LTTC2DY-large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibbflideSLpORyRFGYy6Bbaw1RV-Vm0xL3yMA88YE34b2Hxi1TN8jkDs81QgLhn3k-Vzk3sewiNqWDTQlkckbpjO2Lf1wPYHnCpyaP1I0dDCA4kb_GWHwUZQ1TflvQanII9dBORDGiOn9h/s640/4LTTC2DY-large.jpg" width="100%" /></a></div><br />
<a href="https://www.afrikrea.com/en" target="_blank">Afrikrea</a> was created by two African entrepreneurs, Moulaye and Kadry, who say their mission is to "enable fans of African creations to realize their passion while allowing creators to live theirs."<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiPPnanXrmjNU37frwOYOs-kEPVIjk_0W4qlItoj4TJEpO4DBGl_Y44edt3pZoD0ut9Xz8AtWeEJi2GpOvET55w4k2he6rs74lvMqsBPt-UfBraS0ZMIHQXFp6UiY2gezEQ65anyCPl0tH/s1600/Screen+Shot+2018-08-17+at+2.14.05+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="637" data-original-width="1600" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiPPnanXrmjNU37frwOYOs-kEPVIjk_0W4qlItoj4TJEpO4DBGl_Y44edt3pZoD0ut9Xz8AtWeEJi2GpOvET55w4k2he6rs74lvMqsBPt-UfBraS0ZMIHQXFp6UiY2gezEQ65anyCPl0tH/s640/Screen+Shot+2018-08-17+at+2.14.05+PM.png" width="100%" /></a></div>Take a look around their <a href="https://www.afrikrea.com/" target="_blank">diverse marketplace of goods</a>, and grab a fabulous piece.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixyMG3F5JtM-nq2aNwSMGa3QkTT5BhrJSSPKvr3JLNE3xWSXey-1emVYhyphenhyphen4UdpEM5k3ehMhxFie-jTf4ZBeKEqF9Zae-nu2n-Xtl3aDStVuvFIEwIw2HdHsKbFFvF3upqnB98hbWIg2irn/s1600/JNX6ZRQD-large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="609" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixyMG3F5JtM-nq2aNwSMGa3QkTT5BhrJSSPKvr3JLNE3xWSXey-1emVYhyphenhyphen4UdpEM5k3ehMhxFie-jTf4ZBeKEqF9Zae-nu2n-Xtl3aDStVuvFIEwIw2HdHsKbFFvF3upqnB98hbWIg2irn/s640/JNX6ZRQD-large.jpg" width="100%" /></a></div><br />
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For Harriethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09683917312535044896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8459894049343832940.post-27248495617358541792018-07-10T09:49:00.000-05:002018-07-12T09:29:56.996-05:00How A First-Time Author is Bringing New Life to the Urban Novel<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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When I spoke to first-time author Tanzania Glover, she told me that her primary literary influence was Terry McMillan. McMillan became a hero to Black women readers in the 90s because of her warm, affirming depictions of Black women's struggles and friendships. Even as she's been consistently underappreciated in the mainstream for books that are filled with dramatic plot twists and exceptional character development, McMillan is an icon to our community.<br />
<br />The spirit of Terry McMillan can be felt in Glover's first novel, <a href="https://amzn.to/2zzYLCQ" target="_blank">The Soundtrack: #musictomyears.</a> The book draws readers in with its many ups and downs, but it carefully gives as much care to the lives of its Black women protagonists as anything we've seen in Glover's idol.<br /><br />Jauri, the story's central figure, is a fiercely independent and opinionated woman looking to make her mark on the music industry. But she makes a series of unforced errors in her personal life (men, will do that to you) throughout the book's 400+ pages that require her to be lifted up by her family and her best friend, Ashley. Despite the missteps, Jauri never loses herself. In fact, she provides an important reminder of the tenacity we'll all have to tap into at some point.<br /><br />We pick up different books for our different moods. <a href="https://amzn.to/2zzYLCQ" target="_blank">The Soundtrack: #musictomyears</a> is a light novel you'll want to dive into for a fun escape to a world that centers Blackness. Tanzania Glover is putting a new spin on the familiar urban novel format that's perfect for millennial Black women.<br /><br />In our conversation, Tanzania Glover dove into the novel's intricacies and her journey to publishing it.<br /><br />– Kimberly Foster<br /><br />
Take<a href="https://www.surveymonkey.com/r/79BVKYD" target="_blank"> this survey</a> after reading our interview for a chance to get a free copy of <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Soundtrack-Tanzania-Glover-ebook/dp/B07BV5F3T3/" target="_blank">The Soundtrack: #musictomyears</a>.<br />
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<b>For Harriet: All right, let's start from the beginning. Where did the idea for this book come from?</b><br />
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<b>Tanzania Glover: </b> Before I was telling you about how I was so obsessed with celebrity culture and I thought I would try to turn it into something meaningful. You know how we all have our faves and what not and think we know how they are in real life. I've always wanted to write a book that showed the real stories or the story how I saw it for women who are real Black women. I don't really wanna say real Black women, but Black women who are non bi-racial, not mixed, not always lighter. You know, how we don't typically get to see women like that in the glamorous roles.<br />
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I wanted to write a book and see how putting someone like that in that role and seeing how they would react. I read a lot about the obstacles that some of the younger dark skinned Black women artists are dealing with and it disturbed me. For instance, I saw what’s happened with Sevyn Streeter. She has had some of her visuals lightened in the past.<br />
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I saw that happening with Normani Kordei from Fifth Harmony and Justine Skye and it's just like, "Oh this is kind of what happens to them and it's the norm." I wanted to write about it and how it shouldn't be acceptable and how to navigate the industry while still being true to yourself but trying to be successful as well.<br />
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<b>For Harriet: Okay. </b><br />
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<b>Tanzania Glover: </b>I definitely had an agenda when I was going into it. I wanted to focus on that because we always talk about, “Well, why do we only see one shade of Black women or one look for Black women?” And I wanted to talk about this whole different take on the Black women who are now rarely put in these positions.<br />
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<b>For Harriet: Is this your first book?</b><br />
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<b>Tanzania Glover: </b>This is the first that I’ve published.<br />
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<b>For Harriet: How long did it take you to write it?</b><br />
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<b>Tanzania Glover:</b> I started writing it at 14 or 15. It was 2005, so 15. But I've taken several breaks. This is the third draft of it and I was determined to finish it this time. I got a lot of inspiration from trashy reality shows and Lipstickalley and just seeing a lot of big celebrity moments over the years. Definitely the whole Beyoncé Lemonade album. I love how that was described as a love letter to Black women. I thought like, "Well, what if I had the ear of the whole Black community, specifically Black women. What would I say to them?" And I came up with, “Your past doesn't define you. Sure it's a part of you and it will always follow you, but you’re not limited by it.” My Lemonade advice would be don't accept mediocrity because Black women are always helping whoever needs help sometimes to our own detriment. When we help and give it’s not mediocre so we shouldn't accept it back. You know, reciprocity and all that jazz. Just always have high standards and put your own needs and well-being first. You’ll live longer.<br />
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<b>For Harriet: One thing I was really struck by is the majority of the book is set in Chicago. I feel like I don't read a whole lot of books where that is the case, particularly books about entertainment. Why'd you make that choice?</b><br />
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<b>Tanzania Glover:</b> I am from Chicago. I researched Los Angeles. I researched New York, but I wanted to stay true to home because I'm most familiar here, so it felt completely natural writing about riding the train at night or being here, being there because I've seen those places. One scene in particular by the Chicago River where a character talks about being molested, I go to that spot every summer and I love those famous winding stairs. I'm so familiar with that so it felt really cool to put places that I go all the time and see and it just felt so much more special than if I were to research some random place in Los Angeles. I really enjoyed writing about Chicago. It's actually funny because the sequel will not have any Chicago in it. For part two I'm going to have to do a lot of research and I'm considering traveling for it.<br /><br /><b>For Harriet: In the book if you read it carefully, it seems like there are some familiar Chicago artists or composites of artists that we might be familiar with.</b><br /><b>Tanzania Glover:</b> Yes, there are a lot of archetypes. The big phenomenal female artist who has a lot of stans and a huge, huge following. The narcissistic Gemini celebrity who is always in trouble because of his big ego. And it's funny because I was just thinking, "Wow these celebrities are oddly going through a lot of stuff right now."<br /><br /><b>For Harriet: Yeah.</b><br /><b>Tanzania Glover: </b>There's a lot going on with celebrities as people and what it means to be famous is evolving in front of our eyes with social media. With this book, I wanted to give some background into how I view them and what I believe is the motivation behind some of their actions and their art. I was trying to be--I don't wanna say relatable. It sounds so predictable. I guess I was trying to put out celebrity archetypes that we’re all familiar with.<br /><br /><b>For Harriet: What kind of function do you think that serves? Is it to hook in a reader when they feel like they can see Kanye is having a meltdown?</b><br /><b>Tanzania Glover:</b> I hope so. That was the plan.<br /><br />So far the feedback that I've gotten has been amazing. People instantly recognize it because I'm so not great at being subtle, but the names were very deliberate. Everybody picked up on it and they actually really like that part of it. I've got the whole BeyHive who love the Beyoncé references and stuff like that. Wait I'm not supposed to confirm or deny who the characters are.<br /><br />I think that was a great addition to it and it's actually fun seeing people try and guess who the stars are based on because you have some big personalities in there. That's always really fun.<br /><br /><b>For Harriet: One thing I really thought was innovative about the book was the structure. I was so drawn to this idea of each little section having an accompanied song to go with it and also I thought it was interesting how you switched between voices in the book. One moment you're reading the protagonist, Jauri, and the next you're reading Orrin. How did you come up with that?</b><br /><b>Tanzania Glover:</b> I'm gonna start with the first question. The songs happened because I'm a big music nerd. I listen to music 24/7. I have a catalog of music that's out of this world and I listen to music when I write so I was almost thinking of these chapters as songs. I started out with song lyrics because I actually have a version with the song lyrics, but I couldn't legally put those in the published version so I have it as a keepsake for myself. The song lyrics woven together beautifully tell the story for the book and it hurt to not be able to include them, but luckily I found a legal work around. I also have playlists on Spotify and YouTube for people who want to actually hear the music as they read.<br />
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<b>For Harriet: You couldn't legally use the lyrics because they're copyrighted?</b><br /><b>Tanzania Glover:</b> Yeah.<br /><br />I would have had to get the permission for 80+ songs. Some by the same artist, but that process would have taken so long. When I realized that, I was all done.<br /><br />But the structure with the “his and hers” chapters and the dual chapters and the back and forth, I'm honestly just very scatter-brained. When I was writing, I would be at an event with Jauri then I would jump to Orrin and wonder what he was seeing? And I was so stuck on writing traditionally that I'd try to do her chapter ten pages, his chapter ten pages. I realized that it just didn't work for me. I realized that I'm the boss so I really just made up the rules as I went because I hate trying to put everything into the same neat box. You'll see some chapters are 20 pages while some are only 5. I would start and I would stop when it felt right and I liked it that way.<br /><br /><b>For Harriet: Have you seen another book that's done this before because I haven't?</b><br /><b>Tanzania Glover:</b> I haven't either. I don't want to claim that I'm the first to do it this way either because there could be others, but I just did what felt right for me and the story I wanted to tell.<br /><br />Also, I wanted to directly connect to social media with the hashtag in the title and the musical element. I'm a one person team here. I wrote it. I did the editing. I created the cover. I did it all. So I was trying to be creative with my nonexistent marketing fund. There's a lot of social media use in this book. So it's like dating in the social media age and blocking people on Instagram. I'm on Twitter and it's just so fun to me to see celebrities do this every day. We literally get news alerts. "Oh, this person blocked their ex or this person unfollowed so and so.” It's so funny how it's a part of everybody's life and I just really wanted to talk about that as well.<br /><br /><b>For Harriet: Okay we're gonna get into some of the plot points on that, but I'm just so shocked that you are saying that you did all of this yourself.</b><br /><b>Tanzania Glover:</b> Yeah I did and it took a while, but it’s mainly because I was broke and didn’t have a choice lol. I didn't have money for an editor. I didn't have money for someone to create a book cover. What I did was I taught myself how to use a Photoshop-type/Adobe program and during the free trial I created two covers-- one for the first book and one for the sequel. I paid I think it was 23 dollars total for both images. I just designed them as simply as I could because after looking at the top 100 books on Amazon to see trends in cover designs, I saw that most were pretty simple. I thought, "Hey, I could do this." I tried it and hopefully people will get what I was going for.<br /><br /><b>For Harriet: There is just so much happening in this book. I haven't read a book like this in a long time. I read a lot of nonfiction, but I was engrossed in this. I thought it was really interesting that there are a couple of characters in this book that talk about suffering molestation or sexual abuse. I'm wondering why you felt it necessary to insert those kinds of plot points?</b><br /><b>Tanzania Glover:</b> First of all, my mom is a survivor. So that has been a big part of my life since I was born because she has never shied away from telling her story. She's just such a hero to me for that because as black women we're just expected to suffer in silence, but she told the truth. She's always pointed her finger and said, "No, you did this to me.” Even when no one believed her and she was called crazy, she never wavered from the truth and I’ve always respected her for that.<br /><br />I always want to dedicate at least a few lines for her in whatever I write because she's just so brave and that's something that happens in the Black community so much more than we're willing to talk about so it was important to include that as delicately as possible.<br /><br />It's such a big plot point for Orrin. He was the child star who “things happened to” and he is still dealing with it and he thinks he's over it, but he's not. He pretty much has to realize that he's never going to get over it. It's something that happened to him. It's a part of his life so he has to come to a point where he realizes that it's not like a wound where it heals and then it's fine. No, it's always going to be slightly open. He’ll always have to treat it. He feels like, "It happened. I dealt with it. I did what people said I should do. I went to therapy. I talked about it so I should be fine." That's not the case and it always resurfaces. He has to deal with it and he chooses not to and we see what happens in the book.<br /><br /><b>For Harriet: I thought it was so interesting that you had both a woman and a man who were survivors of abuse. I feel like I don't necessarily see the men's perspective explored as much. </b><br /><b>Tanzania Glover:</b> For Book Two I actually go more in depth with it because one of my friends pointed out that I never used the words "raped" or “molested" in the book. I didn't realize that. I guess I was trying to be sensitive because it is based on real celebrities and their stories and their rumors and what not. I was trying to be sensitive because I absolutely do not want to use that as a draw. I just wanted to write how I interpreted the situation as a fan of the artist and their subsequent behaviors. But Book Two actually explores that where he begins to say the words and really heal because Book One was just peeling off his bandage. He still has more growing to do as you can see by the ending.<br /><br /><b>For Harriet: I loved the character of Jauri.</b><br /><b>Tanzania Glover:</b> Me too! She is like every friend of mine. She's so flawed, but I don't care. I just love her. She's so funny. She's so relatable. She wants to be bougie so bad, but then she's really down to earth. She's just everything. She's so talented.<br /><br /><b>For Harriet: I appreciated how she changed throughout the course of the book. I think that seeing her open up with Orrin and get hurt in the process it was so real. Her reaction to dealing with somebody trifling--I felt like those reactions were really honest.</b><br /><b>Tanzania Glover:</b> Right because she's such a closed book. Like the people who are the closest to her, like her sisters and Ashley, don't even know things about her that we do. So it's almost like we're her friends too because she told us everything with no filter.<br /><br /><b>For Harriet: She seemed like a really normal Black girl, you know. I love that you mentioned early about trying to write against the colorism that Black women experience or how we're erased in media. I thought this is definitely somebody that I would know. And the way that you described her physically, it felt like somebody who was very familiar.</b><br /><b>Tanzania Glover:</b> She is just your normal Black girl in Chicago. She's been through some stuff. She's rolled around in the mud a little, but she's dusted herself off. I love seeing her confidence grow, even though it got shaken through some of the plot points. I love seeing her, but especially someone who looks like her, still winning in the end.<br /><br />I have this thing where I want to write this ruthless Black woman character who just does not care what anybody thinks and she is all about winning for herself. I actually have a separate book for that character, but I think about The Coldest Winter Ever. Every Black girl I know fiercely loved that book. The character Winter was so selfish and because of that she had to have a bad ending. She had to be tragic. It was like a warning. Like, "Black women don't be like her." I hated that because as “bad” as she was, I was rooting for her. I wanted her to win.<br /><br /><b>For Harriet: I love that. I love that about this book. Even despite all of the ups and downs in the plots, and there were lots of ups and lots of downs, I loved that on the very last page I felt like things in this woman's life are not perfect, but she's fine. She's okay.</b><br /><b>Tanzania Glover:</b> She has every reason to fall and stay down, but she's not. She is slowly getting back up. She's being accountable for her actions and I love that about her because she's not the kind of person that's going to wallow forever. She'll take her punches and she'll, you know, be hurt because she's normal and she has feelings. As you can see, she is very hurt, but she's not going to stay that way. She can't so she'll reinvent herself again and again.<br /><br /><b>For Harriet: This book has a lot of drama in it. There are lots of twists and turns. It's interesting to me that you were still able to balance the dramatic stuff, the things that can, if not handled properly, devolve into a soap opera or a bad reality show. I appreciate that you're able to balance that.</b><br /><b>Tanzania Glover:</b> Thank you. I wanted to toe the line because we all have our guilty pleasures. I love Love & Hip Hop and Basketball Wives, but I didn't want it to be that. I struggle with the respectability politics thing. I struggle with not wanting it to be--I don't want to say "urban" because I am urban. I fully embrace that, but I didn't want it to be stereotypical and cartoonish. I wanted a normal Black experience where the readers could say that it feels real because they’ve seen it or something like it.<br /><br /><b>For Harriet: Yeah, I love rejecting respectability politics. I can imagine that this is a book that somebody might write off as being you know too something. Did you worry about that or do you worry about that, or do you just feel like this will speak for itself?</b><br /><b>Tanzania Glover: </b>When I had to categorize it on Amazon, that was when it hit me again, like what category do I put it in? I thought urban romance. I think it's an urban book. I think it's a black pop culture book because I wrote it for Black women like myself. If anybody else reads it then that's great for them, but this is for Black women. This is for us because we don't get these kind of stories and we don't get to see ourselves as the love interest—being doted on, as the special one. She's [Jauri] all of that. Things happen, of course, but it's not a "woe is me" story at all.<br /><br />She doesn't want that. She wants the spotlight. She wants that badly and she wants to work for it the honest way. This book was conceived pre-#MeToo movement, but it has a lot of the same themes of sexual harassment. You have to sleep with the guy whose finger is on the button. It has a lot of that and it wasn't intentional, but it was. I wanted to talk about it casually because it's not a big deal in the industry. It's just not. I would love if my book could add to that conversation for black women’s treatment in the music industry and Hollywood.<br /><br />I was actually shocked to see this movement pick up so much steam because when I was doing research, all I saw was how it’s just expected and accepted. You have to do these things, these “sexual favors” or you're not gonna make it. It’s so normalized that I didn't want to write about it like it was traumatic even though it is traumatic. Women should not have to do these things, especially to people that they look up to. Like these are their heroes who they find out are monsters in the worst way. But most have to weigh it and play the game accordingly because everyone else is. It's just not fair for women to have to compromise themselves in order to be successful.<br /><br /><b>For Harriet: I loved that Jauri was in it and then she decided, "No, I don't want to do this anymore." She was in control of herself and her body.</b><br /><b>Tanzania Glover:</b> Yes. Book Two definitely explores it more. I'm gonna give you like a little spoiler because we already know Jauri's not gonna stay away from music. She just can't. So in the future, she has her own record label and she's setting the example and doing things the right way for her artists. And when we're talking about this topic, we have to be honest about why there’s so much abuse of power. It’s because men rule Hollywood and the music industry, hell the world, but specifically for entertainment I do believe a lot of this would go away if female label heads and producers and creators were represented more.<br /><br />So yeah she is taking that next step in Book Two. But as far as Book One, the reason that she has so much control over herself and her image and her body was because she had the capital to do so. It was really interesting to see a Black woman do the right thing with her money and invest it in herself. The last couple chapters, when Orrin was trying to buy her out of her contract, she realized that she couldn’t let him because he would be using his money to basically buy her and not the contract so she had to do it herself.<br /><br /><b>For Harriet: I love that she was able to write her own checks.</b><br /><b>Tanzania Glover:</b> Yeah. She wrote her own check. She did it on her own terms. I wanted to come full circle with that because in the first chapter, we see her getting dressed to meet “Wayne”. She's wearing her hair how he likes and wearing clothes that he picked out for her. But in the last chapter, she’s wearing her big hair how she wants to, dressed how she wants and she's summoning him to her. I just thought that was so beautiful. I cried writing that scene. Like, "Oh, my God! It's over. She's done. My baby’s all grown up." She's not a victim. She's just not into victimhood. And there's nothing wrong with being a victim, but she recognizes that there are people who are victims to things out of their control. She feels that she controlled a lot of what happened to her in her past and would definitely be in control of things from that point on.<br /><br />So she's thinking about, "Where did I go wrong? What could I have done differently?" And she realizes that we look over red flags and signs and we compromise on things all because we like someone. We can’t do that anymore. I have readers that are still holding out for a certain ending in book two and I want to shake them because they didn’t get the message. He was not good for her at all!<br /><br />She realizes exactly where she messed up. She takes responsibility for her part. Not for all of it, because it is not her fault. But she realizes where she will never compromise again and that's really interesting for the sequel because she is put in a position where she could backtrack or she could just keep it moving. I really want her to remember the woman on the roof at the end of Book One that was saying she would never be in that situation again because she has learned from her mistakes.<br /><br /><b>For Harriet: I am glad that we had the conversation about how to categorize this because it felt really reminiscent of my favorite novelists. Do you have any people that you look up to, people who inspire you?</b><br /><b>Tanzania Glover:</b> Terry McMillan. I've read everything that she's ever written. She's like the quintessential author for true Black sisterhood, Black female joy, and getting up again after life punches you in the gut. She is just everything to me. She's everything.<br /><br /><b>For Harriet: She's literally amazing. One of the best conversations I've ever had in life was with Terry McMillan. She is literally the best.</b><br /><b>Tanzania Glover: </b>Oh, my God! I'm so jealous. I'm so jealous. It literally started for me. I was maybe five when Waiting to Exhale came out in theaters. I was there because my mom couldn't get a sitter. I remember seeing Black women on the big screen loving on each other and fighting with each other, but that bond was still there. When I got older and realized that it was a book first, I had to read it! I found her other books and I’ve watched every movie based on them dozens of times. I just love how she showed the full spectrum of Black womanhood. She is just the greatest of all time.<br /><br /><b>For Harriet: Do you have any final thoughts about what you would want readers to take away from this book? You mentioned your Lemonade message of “Don't accept mediocrity.” Is there anything else?</b><br /><b>Tanzania Glover: </b>I think the message is pretty straightforward. Love yourself more than you love anyone else. Have a code of conduct. Don’t have unprotected sex. Just don’t do it. That got her [Jauri] into a lot of trouble. I think as Black women, we have to be more in control about who we allow into our lives in that way because of kids and STDs. We see how much these things affect us in our community. This is something that is fully controllable and preventable. She didn’t get off easily, but Jauri is lucky that things weren’t worse for her. I just want us to take more responsibility for our sexual health because that is the beginning and the end to a lot of avoidable problems.<br /><br />I really don’t want to come off as preachy because I have the tendency to come off that way in real life if you ask my friends. I am just so passionate about my love for black women and girls that I want to see us live long, healthy, fulfilled lives on our terms. Whoever we chose to date or be intimate with, I just want us to set healthy boundaries and live and do things for ourselves and not because someone manipulated us into it. That’s it. That’s the book in a nutshell.<br />
Purchase a copy of<a href="https://amzn.to/2ufqmnR" target="_blank"> The Soundtrack: #musictomyears</a>.<br />
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See this #AmazonGiveaway for a chance to win: The Soundtrack: #musictomyears (Kindle Edition). <a href="https://giveaway.amazon.com/p/67b5fb60f80670c7">https://giveaway.amazon.com/p/67b5fb60f80670c7</a> NO PURCHASE NECESSARY. Ends the earlier of Jul 14, 2018 11:59 PM PDT, or when all prizes are claimed. See Official Rules <a href="http://amzn.to/GArules">http://amzn.to/GArules</a>.<br />
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<b><i>Disclosure: For Harriet was financially compensated for this post. </i></b></div>
For Harriethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09683917312535044896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8459894049343832940.post-89758158631354725152018-03-22T15:00:00.000-05:002018-03-22T20:43:20.370-05:00The Pain is Not the Entirety of the Story: A Conversation with Aja Monet<img border="0" data-original-height="1065" data-original-width="1600" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwntdLDs7lAGeDmC10fYpr2vmc6axh7kuJ1HaoZ1_f7-ANMQVjC0JXsT-kA5LWMFx2Xdxp8kV1A3cK1jVy2Z6PT-WBD8p86GjgDWuDbzg33Ea2GGE_nz5AdLIxIAZMeIj_n2QfOdPJvg6i/s1600/aja_monet_by_brandon_guzman_2.png" width="100%" /><br />
<b>By Kimberly Foster</b><br />
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Aja Monet has the voice of a blueswoman, husky and songful. It is was what first drew me to her.<br />
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That voice compelled me to listen more closely, taking note of her tone and cadence as a poem leapt from her mouth. I'm rarely able to resist a performance as masterful as the one captured in that two-minute video, but the work, the words, have stayed with me, too.<br />
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Then I read her book, <a href="http://amzn.to/2GcFAkr"><b>My Mother Was A Freedom Fighter</b></a>. Her voice rang just as clearly. I heard Aja as she worked through the complex, often fraught, ties that bind us to our families and communities, as she imagined a world that holds everyone dear.<br />
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That kind of clarity is not incidental. It doesn't just happen. When I spoke to Aja by phone, she discussed how difficult creation can be. Even those who are blessed with natural gifts have to wrestle because talent and ease should not be confused.<br />
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The world is, in her words, "a fucking mess." (Who could disagree?) She creates anyway. For herself, and for us.<br />
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<b>I periodically like to read </b><a href="http://www.webdubois.org/dbCriteriaNArt.html"><b>an essay</b></a><b> from W.E.B. Dubois, where he basically argues that all art is propaganda. If that's true, then what message are you trying to spread with your poetry?</b><br />
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I don't know if there's any one specific message because what I'm writing can be very personal and intimate. It depends on what I'm going through or what I'm grappling with, what ideas I'm trying to work through. Maybe even sometimes I don't know what the idea is. I just know I have a feeling and I need to get the words out somehow. </div>
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And so if it is propaganda, then I guess I'm concerned with how do we do this thing called life better? You know? What are ways that we can use language to help us reimagine, re-articulate our loneliness, and therefore, our need for each other, and our ability to collectively work towards freedom. Freedom from poverty, freedom from oppression and sexism, and classism, and all these things that we could maybe imagine another way of doing this thing called life. </div>
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And I guess that that is maybe a bit of the propaganda he's talking about. </div>
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<b>So, when you create, there's no singular mission statement? It's what's moving you at the time? </b><br />
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Yeah, but it varies, you know?<br />
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For me, the principle factor, and I will kind of lean on June Jordan in this sense, the principle factor for me is truth telling, you know, to be concerned with the business of truth telling. And in order to be able to do that, I have to be able to get to some level of personal confrontation, you know, with myself. </div>
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<b>Yeah. </b></div>
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And it does differ. Because in my book there are poems that start very personal, because that's where I was. That's how my entry point was to poetry. And then I started to realize, "Wait, poems do more than, you know, gratify my self needs or self worth." They do more than just affirm my personal belief system. </div>
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I've had poems that I've read, or even that I've written, where it has uprooted an entire belief system, or disrupted a certain narrative that we are taught is supposed to be the dominant narrative. And so, maybe in that way he's right. Maybe in that way it's propaganda. I don't know. But I guess I'm a little resistant to the word propaganda in my mind because of how it's been used and manipulated against us. </div>
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<b>When you say that some of your work has uprooted dominant narratives, do you mean for yourself or for the audience you are presenting the work to?</b></div>
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I would say more for myself. And my hope is that it does something, sharing it with people. I don't know if necessarily that was my initial hope when I first started, but what I learned in sharing poems is that it was doing something for people that I hadn't necessarily intended. I knew that I needed to write poems in order to process the life and the struggles that I was living. I knew that I was experiencing my interior world, the way I emotionally responded, or the way I imagined things, was not always in alignment with the literature, the books, the media, or the education system I was taught. </div>
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So I feel like in the work that I was doing with the poems, I was able to find my own voice, and shut everything else out for a second and listen intently to what I really was hearing in the world, whatever I was really seeing and in that it shifted something for me. It disrupted something for me. And other poems did that for me. </div>
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Other poems I've read have helped me understand a situation differently, a conflict, a way of being, a way of seeing the world. And my only hope is that something in what I share is truthful to the point to bring somebody else closer to telling their own truth, or to demanding a more truth telling society, so to speak. A healing. </div>
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<b>You were talking about working through things via your work. I've heard different artists have different ideas about the usefulness of trying to work through trauma [in their work], that sometimes the art is not the best place to try to do that. What do you think?</b></div>
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Well, healing is a real immaterial thing, right?</div>
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We talk about it very elusively in community spaces, often times. And for me, there's no all-of-a-sudden I'll put a bandaid on something so it's healed. It takes care. It takes nurturing. It takes tenderness. It takes concern and attention. So every wound you have, and I'll use the body as a physical metaphor, you have to clean it. You have to put an ointment on it. You have to make sure it doesn't get infected. You have to let it breathe. So I feel like the poem is a means to the end. It's not the end. It's the way of getting to the place of understanding what needs to be healed, what needs to be resolved. </div>
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Just to give you some context, because I've been around before there was Youtube, I started very young. I was, like, 14, 15 when I was doing poetry. And I was one of the younger poets that was in the adult poetry community, at least in New York. <br />
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So what ended up happening was, I was ... we were kind of thrust into this community, and into these scenes as part of the youth poetry organization Urban Word, and we would be encouraged to go up there and tell our stories, and be truth tellers, and all these things. And yet, what I saw happening was students would go up there, young people would get up there, and they'd pour their guts out. But then there was no, there was nothing there, there was no one to hold them after. You know, there was no one to process what the remnants of what had been left, what had been scattered across the stage. </div>
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And so I had moved away from the poetry community and I had gone through all this. I went to college, left the country, and I had become really disillusioned with my mentors and the people that I saw in the adult community because I felt like, "You guys weren't readying us for the world." They were exploiting our stories, but it wasn't preparing us to really do something about the realities we were dealing with. And so I think because I got disillusioned, I saw a lot of people become very famous and do very well with poetry in that span of three years when I had stepped away. </div>
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Then I came back, and I was doing my own thing and sharing things on the internet and stuff. I would organize my own readings, and I would really have the support of one of my good friends, Daphne, who is now managing me, to really get back out there. And she's like, "You know this is what you're supposed to be doing. This is your purpose." I didn't feel that way at the time, but in having her support and having someone who really paid attention to what I was writing about, and also what life I wanted to live. I wanted to heal. </div>
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I spent time not writing. Another poet, Ada Limón, she said, "People ask me, 'Oh, what do you do with writer's block?'" And she says, "I don't write." We live in a capitalist, individualist society where the assumption is you have to constantly be producing. You have to constantly be sharing it. You have to constantly be putting things out there. And for me, I was like, "Wait. I need to live a little. Can I get some time to live? Can I breathe? Can I take care of myself?" </div>
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So, my writing was the beginning stages of me understanding, "Oh something is there." I'm feeling something. I'm deeply moved to speak and write, and I wish I could sing it, but I'm going to use words in a way where maybe I can try to sing through it. And then I look back on some of those poems, some of them that are in the collection, and I say to myself, "I'm glad I had to write them to understand what I was feeling and experiencing or seeing." But then I have to do something different in my life that's going to change those conditions. I can't put a poem out and think that's going to change the world.</div>
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<b>Yeah</b></div>
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And not even the world, but let's bring it back to me. Can I write a poem and think that's going to change me? At the end of the day, I have to do the work to heal, to resolve the inner conflict that I'm working through in the poem. </div>
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<b>I imagine that because you've been a publicly performing poet for so long that, in your work, you are working through different experiences, and discovering new things about yourself and the world, and so that creates a kind of conversation. I'm wondering if you've experienced those sort of epiphany moments or those moments of self-realization, self-actualization, and what you've learned? </b></div>
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Yeah. Well, I always feel self-conscious about answering these sorts of questions because I know that I am growing, a constant work of process and progress, and all these things. So, what I feel today, who knows if I'll feel the same way tomorrow. You know?</div>
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<b>Mm-hmm</b></div>
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I feel like I'm a student of life. I'm not speaking in an all-knowing "I." You know? So, in that I say what the conversation has revealed to me is that. It's precisely that. I have a lot to learn and the more time I have spent with myself, I have been able to confront and engage a deep reservoir of knowledge, and emotional wisdom. My faith is very much connected to my upbringing and what I witnessed and what I've seen, some of the magical scenarios that I witnessed as a young person, I realized that what people said is reality and what is fiction is blurred. And that the things we were told were impossible...we were told they were impossible because it served somebody else's interests. </div>
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<b>Mm-hmm</b></div>
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And as I started to delve into myself and question my own history, and my relationship with my family, and where my family had come from, and the Diaspora, and all the connections to other families, and other people's ways of thinking. I learned there is spiritual wisdom. There is internal wisdom and knowledge that has been passed on to us. As much as things have been passed on to us in books, and songs, and art. Our physical bodies have genetic memory. We are a library of eternal resources. And when I start to deal with the pain and the healing of what this current life has brought to me, I start to recognize that that is not everything. You understand? Does that make sense?</div>
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<b>Mm-hmm</b></div>
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The pain is not the entirety of the story. There's also stories of triumph, and resistance, and resilience, and strength, and overcoming, and practices to help us learn how to do those things that have been ripped away and torn away because of the breaking of our cultures, and our identifies, and our languages, and our relationship to our past. </div>
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So in my conversations with my younger self, I think my younger self was a bit more fearless, and only now in my coming of age as a woman, it's only now that I'm starting to really embrace the power of being a woman and discerning and realizing, "Wait! Hold up! Where I was when I was 15 is not where I needed to be!" Even though I was a stubborn, young kid, I definitely had more of a sense of self, and agency, and fire, and confidence that through heartbreak, and disappointment and betrayal, I start to question myself as I came of age as a woman. So I started to, as I'm writing, and I'm looking back at poems, and I'm looking back at conversations I was having with myself, [and] I recognized I never took time to really love that little girl in me. She was so beat down by all that she had endured and a lot of my journey now has been how do I love that little girl in me unapologetically in the ways that she was never loved before, that I need to be able to be the best person in my relationships, in my world, in my community. So part of me taking the time to write and create is a part of me loving myself. You know?</div>
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<b>Yeah.</b></div>
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In ways that I never was allowed to when I was younger, or I was never taught. I was never shown. So I think the conversation changes depending on what I'm grappling with. But it's funny when you think about your younger self. I don't know if you feel this way. I remember having a reading somewhere and a woman she took very good care of me, and she put me in this really beautiful hotel, and as a poet you're used to getting all types of treatment. You know, they say, I think it was James Baldwin or somebody said, "The artists are dangerous because they maneuver different classes." One day you could be eating out of a can of Campbell's soup. The next day you might be sitting around with somebody eating olives and hors d'oeuvres. It's just the range of life for a poet and artists. You never know. </div>
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For me, there was this one moment where this woman had just ... I felt so appreciated because she had done so much to make sure that my stay was nice. And I remember that they had given me an upgrade at the hotel. And it seems very stupid and silly, but I just remember this bath. And I remember sitting in this bath, and it was a beautiful bathtub, and I remember trying to pour Epsom salt, and some lavender, and all these things into the bath and let the water bubble. And I created this bubble bath. And I remember sitting inside and thinking to myself, "I have never done this for myself before." And it sounds so silly. It's probably like the most insignificant thing. It's a minute way of showing appreciation to yourself, but it was one thing I had done for myself. And in doing it for myself, I literally sat in the tub, and I thought, "Man, if 15-year-old Aja could see me now, she would think I'm living the best damn life." She would have never imagined, never thought she would be here now. </div>
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Maybe to me and my grown self, I don't think I'm doing enough, or I don't think I'm making the biggest change, or maybe I am hard on myself. As women we can be, or just as people. But, 15 year old Aja, she'd be like, "Oh you're killing it girl. And I'm proud of you." It was such a weird moment, but it was that one moment where you talk about a conversation. You know, that was a moment where I really did have a conversation with my younger self, and I could hear my younger self like, "Man I'm proud of you." And that meant a lot to me because, in order for me to be able to be something for other people, I have to be able to fulfill the love for myself. You know, if I don't feel it for myself, then I can't, I don't know how to show that to anyone else. </div>
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<b>My last question is, you've had incredible success with your work, and you get to do what you love, do you feel at peace?</b></div>
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At peace? I have moments of peace, but I think moments are fleeting. You know, we go in and out. I believe the movements. So, right now, I don't need to tell you the world is a fucking mess. </div>
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There are people who speak about this current moment as if they're somehow above it, or somehow the rest of the world is crazy and they aren't. Like they're removed from their own role in it. And I guess I'm cautious to say I'm at peace because I'm pissed off most days. I want things to change. I want a better world for our children, and I'm tired of fucking marching and protesting. I'm tired. And I'm sad that this Saturday our babies gotta go do that. They should be in school. </div>
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And there are babies across the globe who gotta do even worse throughout every day. But what kind of world have we allowed to exist where our babies can't be at peace? If they're not at peace, I'm not at peace. There's no way. So it's a funny question. I try to create moments of sanctuary and solitude so that I can hear my own thoughts and my own voice and know who I am in the midst of all this noise out in the world, the hysteria of media, and social media, and all these things. I do try to definitely create moments of peace and solitude, but it would be remiss to me if I made it seem as if I'm just here living a zen, meditative life everyday, as if I don't look at the world around me and feel outrage, and the want to change, and help other people feel peace. I can't be at peace if everybody else is living in pure chaos, you know? So that's been my struggle. How do we reconcile the fact that, yes, self care matters, and healing, and resolution, but we have to be able to create a society where everyone has access to that. And until everyone has access to that, I can't rest. </div>
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<a href="http://amzn.to/2GcFAkr" target="_blank"><b>My Mother Was A Freedom Fighter</b></a></div>
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<a href="https://www.amazon.com/My-Mother-Was-Freedom-Fighter/dp/1608467678/ref=as_li_ss_il?ie=UTF8&qid=1521743774&sr=8-1&keywords=my+mother+was+a+freedom+fighter&linkCode=li3&tag=forhar-20&linkId=2c16ebb1b551a4f4222f69ac7410eb7b" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="//ws-na.amazon-adsystem.com/widgets/q?_encoding=UTF8&ASIN=1608467678&Format=_SL250_&ID=AsinImage&MarketPlace=US&ServiceVersion=20070822&WS=1&tag=forhar-20" /></a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="https://ir-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/ir?t=forhar-20&l=li3&o=1&a=1608467678" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important;" width="1" /></div>
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For Harriethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09683917312535044896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8459894049343832940.post-84519204996112966192018-03-19T18:08:00.000-05:002018-03-19T18:24:33.926-05:00How Therapy Gave Me The Grace I Needed to Breathe Easier<img border="0" data-original-height="682" data-original-width="1024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWOVPHTwsg_pJjmNaONtrvlYsEoGuZGB4Or2uVRsG_zpxsvdNqqI-LvgrM3inqJoRKTiCOYz9jMuqbtU-89o98SBPzhQSau117VAF3XQ102ye9nXGNJuJYTtzpbWsXd_P6SKZ79N_m3twu/s1600/woman-enjoys-feeling-the-sun-on-her-face-picture-id853329556.jpg" width="100%" /><br />
<b>By Brittany Johnson</b><br />
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I was tired. Not just physically, I-really-need-a-power-nap, set the alarm tired. Tired as in, "I'm so emotionally and mentally exhausted that I can hardly get out of bed in the morning." Tired as in, "I'm not sure if I can continue at this pace, in this brain, with this amount of overthinking." From the outside looking in, I was going through all of the right motions. Meditating before I went to sleep - check. Trying to recognize moments of gratitude during the day - check. Encouraging friends and family to spread their light and love their truths - double check. But on the inside, I was killing myself ever so softly.<br />
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The hardest part about coming to grips with my anxiety and depression was that I didn’t feel like I even deserved to feel this way. I came from a loving, supportive family and grew up in a safe neighborhood. I didn’t have an absent father or an emotionally inept mother. My grandparents were the lights of my life and God was continually showing up for me in more ways than one. I did not deserve to feel sad, anxious, and mentally weary day in and day out. I did not deserve to experience the symptoms of depression so deeply that, at times, I was unable to hold simple conservations or sustain meaningful relationships. <br />
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It is lies like these, the secret ones we tell ourselves, that are responsible for holding back our recognition, acceptance, and subsequent healing. <br />
<center><script async="" src="//pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js"></script><span id="goog_498525336"> <!-- Large --> <ins class="adsbygoogle" data-ad-client="ca-pub-9450107725766363" data-ad-slot="6852641998" style="display: inline-block; height: 280px; width: 336px;"></ins> <script>
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</script></span></center>Dealing with physical and emotional trauma as a young adult ended up exasperating the tendencies that already existed under the surface. I suffered a random, violent physical attack in my early 20s that left me with the scars, bruising, and hospital visits to prove it. The physical wounds eventually healed on their own - the emotional ones did not. I previously thought that PTSD was reserved for real heroes, who suffered from “real trauma”...soldiers, public servants, unrelenting activists. It wasn’t until a routine checkup (for previous brain swelling, among other things, from the attack) that the doctor questioned what I had been doing to heal mentally. Pause. My idea of therapy was sitting on an old velvet chaise lounge while a Caucasian man in his late 50s asked me, “how do you feel about that”. I was in denial of how much help I needed, and I was angry. I wanted to be brave enough to fix this on my own. It could’ve been much worse! I wasn’t raped, or permanently maimed. I could get past this! The reality was, it had been over a year since that night. I still had weekly nightmares, had caused the demise of my own social life and friendships, and ended up engaging in a codependent relationship that left me more damaged than it found me. I eventually left the relationship and made some progress in my personal life but continued to push away people who truly wanted the best for me. Later, it had been over two years since the attack and I was still a sad, super anxious, overthinking, anti-social, unmotivated mess.<br />
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I finally realized that I could not get past it any of it, not on my own. <br />
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My first day of therapy felt like an awkward first date. I was blessed enough to find a highly recommend black woman psychotherapist practicing in my area. It was so much different than I had expected - she was warm, personable, and never asked me “how do you feel about that”. It wasn’t just me dumping my problems out to a silent, head-nodding authority; we proceeded to have a real, honest conversation. To be able to share my innermost feelings with another black woman made me feel as though taking this step towards inner peace was not something foreign, or undeserved. I felt supported and strong. <br />
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There is strength in taking hold of the hardest parts of your life by recognizing how much of an effect they have on your daily existence. There is strength in realizing that you need help tackling the speed bumps of your mental health journey and in proceeding to seek that help.<br />
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Going to therapy was a deeply personal choice. It was an important step for me to recognize that as a black woman, there are certain trials that I’ll deal with at the intersection of gender and race that some people will never understand. It was important to realize that aside from societal pressures and constraints, going through further trauma in my own life was a burden that, at times, was entirely too heavy to carry alone.<br />
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I’m still attending sessions, and I’m still working towards being cognizant of mindfulness and well-being in all areas of my life. It isn’t easy, and there isn’t a new epiphany every day. What there IS is an innermost calm in knowing that I can better recognize my triggers when they first occur and meet them where they start. There IS a subtle confidence in knowing that I do deserve to feel whole, loved, and happy. There IS a steadfast faith in knowing, without a shadow of a doubt, that I deserve healthy and mutually respectful relationships, and what’s truly for me will always be within my reach. <br />
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Cheers to the grace that’s found in taking care of self, simply because we deserve it.<br />
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<hr /><i>Brittany Johnson is the creator of codeREDD&co. and works in community marketing and content creation in the Bay Area. Passionate about authenticity in wellness and self care, her writing is heavily inspired by the peaks and pitfalls that come as the result of being a black woman working to manifest her purpose. </i><br />
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</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16475264614364745493noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8459894049343832940.post-82175904786822672922018-03-16T13:59:00.000-05:002018-03-16T14:02:32.161-05:00Self-Care is Community Care<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKAxypnw4k1HoIf2seb_wXngXtSRnSYAjtmzi_iBrXcGnlNxbdY4ysupWewbP8fvT9kAZ9iiuMkwCq1kptnj4QSaJghloqkuVDf0Z3lxYTIbDhaRV6UN5Y_voiyj-pf6cCF1NNOw9wZfyJ/s1600/iStock-666672766.jpg" width="100%" /></div><b><i>By Carmen R. H. Chandler</i></b><br />
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<i>By now, we know that self-care is not selfish. The next step is to acknowledge that it’s not just for us.</i><br />
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You are enough. Your health, wellness, and sanity are thorough reasons for taking excellent care of yourself. You must know this. We must know this. Even with families, companies, communities – hell, countries – depending on us to always come to the rescue, Black women must resist being absorbed by our various roles and relationships. Audre Lorde said “If I didn’t define myself for myself, I’d be crunched into other people’s fantasies of me and eaten alive.” At this point, we are fighting to define ourselves. Furthermore, we are learning and crafting the tools necessary to examine ourselves – to see our own wounds, and heal them; to recognize our own worth, and honor it. This is the very basis of self-care.<br />
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So this affirmation is vital: You are enough. <br />
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Still, you are not all.<br />
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None of us lives in a vacuum. We are all connected, and those connections are real. Although it is easy to feel isolated in an increasingly electronic and fantasy-based world, the village philosophy of our ancestors still speaks truth. Each of us is whole and self-sufficient, but together, we are a community. And community is everything. <br />
<center><script async="" src="//pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js"></script><span id="goog_498525336"> <!-- Large --> <ins class="adsbygoogle" data-ad-client="ca-pub-9450107725766363" data-ad-slot="6852641998" style="display: inline-block; height: 280px; width: 336px;"></ins> <script>
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</script></span></center>This inherent knowledge compels us to think beyond the self. Black women have been the engine of every major movement for social change that America has ever experienced. There is a reason for that. As we push back against the self-destructive aspects of the “Strong Black Woman” stereotype, let us also resist the temptation to relinquish our ties to the larger vision. Our desire, our need, and our responsibility to take care of one another is just as valid as the task of taking care of ourselves. Community care, too, is vital to our wellness, growth, and forward movement.<br />
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Luckily, self-care and community care don’t have to be mutually exclusive. Uplifting the group doesn’t mean we have to put it on our backs. In many ways, our dedicated inner work creates an energy that expands outward, automatically augmenting one’s contribution to our collective rising. Here are four ways that committing to a regular self-care practice can benefit your activism, social justice, and community work.<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Counter Compassion Fatigue and Decrease Apathy</span></b><br />
We know that self-care can help us prevent and heal from burnout. Likewise, it can undo the effects of compassion fatigue. Compassion fatigue is defined by the Compassion Fatigue Awareness Project as “an extreme state of tension and preoccupation with the suffering of those being helped to the degree that it can create a secondary traumatic stress for the helper." Among other things, this can lead to apathy. As a natural reaction to overwhelm, our empathy response can shut down, causing us to forego concern about important issues in the interest of self-preservation. With regular self-care, we can nip this impulse in the bud, and reengage with our communities in impactful, whole-hearted ways.<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Heal Intergenerational Trauma</span></b><br />
Much of our self, family, and community healing work has to do with situations that occurred long before we were born. In her book Post Traumatic Slave Syndrome: America’s Legacy of Enduring Injury and Healing, Dr. Joy Degruy outlines the logic around the condition, which is unique to the descendants of Africans enslaved during the Trans-Atlantic Slave trade. “Although slavery has long been a part of human history, American chattel slavery represents a case of human trauma incomparable in scope, duration and consequence to any other incidence of human enslavement,” says Degruy. She asserts that not only do we carry the marks of the systematic oppression we experience in our lifetimes, many of us also bear signs of trauma that has been compounded as it was passed down through the generations.<br />
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Quality self-care can assist us in overturning this trauma. Talk and group therapy, and even alternative options such as Reiki or chakra balancing, can help us sort through all that we’re holding. They can also give us the tools to speak with our living lineage about what has occurred, and thereby help them to heal, as well. Finally, your personal journey to release familial/cultural trauma can inform your perspective on broader work. After looking squarely at your own scars and addressing them, it is much easier to recognize similar trauma-induced behavioral and social patterns in others. This perceptive ability, and the will to address issues respectfully and empathically, will almost certainly be a boon to your organizing efforts.<br />
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</script></span></center><b><span style="font-size: large;">Boosts Your Immune System and Energy Levels</span></b><br />
Self-care leaves you feeling refreshed, but that “new me, who ‘dis” feeling does more than just add points to your personal glow up scale. It also has a beneficial effect on your immune system, meaning that your body will be able to stave off illness better. Taking planned breaks for scheduled “me time” decreases the likelihood of unforeseen illness taking you out of the game.<br />
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With a regular self-care routine, you’re likely to feel more energized as well, meaning you’ll be able to put more effective effort into your chosen form of activism. You’ll be physically fortified and ready to truly show up for what you care about.<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Transforms Relationships</span></b><br />
Good self-care can help regulate the symptoms of chronic stress and anxiety. Generally, lifting these burdens can make you a more pleasant person to interact with and increase your social and leadership skills. Many people who practice quality holistic development also experience some level of personal transformation. It’s not uncommon for them to start to see that transformation reflected in their relationships soon thereafter. This is of utmost importance, as relationships are the building blocks of community. If each one of us brings more love, authenticity and communication to our individual relationships, it will take much less effort to form a working unified front against oppressive systems.<br />
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It’s perhaps the most tangible intangible benefit of self-care: as we heal ourselves, we heal others as well. The people in your environment will begin to reflect the work you’ve done for you… or, they’ll find a different space to inhabit. Either way, your self-care work creates in your life the microcosm of a more healed community. It’s a way to be the change you hope to see… and then see it.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">***</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>While it’s common to view our time as being spent on either one thing or another, true self-care exists in a both/and space, the likes of which Black women know intimately. Giving deep attention to your care, growth, and joy takes nothing away from our communities. It adds to them. When you function better, you open the way for the people who engage with you to do the same.<br />
Then we rise together - whole.<br />
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<b><i>How does your self-care practice benefit your larger work? </i></b><br />
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<i>Carmen R. H. Chandler is a writer, wellness practitioner, dancer, and educator. As the creator of The Body Temple, she blends these gifts to provide innovative, culturally relevant health solutions for the Black DAEUS (Descendants of Africans Enslaved in the United States) community. In all of her work, Carmen is committed to envisioning a new age of Black wholeness, freedom, joy, and justice.</i>For Harriethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09683917312535044896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8459894049343832940.post-30044944329269892092018-01-11T10:11:00.000-06:002018-01-11T10:46:42.076-06:00Birthing Black Women Should Not Have to Save Their Own Lives<div><a href="https://imageshack.com/i/po396xmPj" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="https://imagizer.imageshack.com/v2/xq90/924/396xmP.jpg" width="100%" /></a></div><div><i>by Timil Jones</i></div><div><i><br />
</i></div><div><div>Last year I became a doula. I wasn’t looking to make a career change. I love what I do, helping women of color build wealth through real estate, but I felt called to become a birth worker because of the Black maternal mortality crisis in this country. Headline after headline kept coming through my social media newsfeed. They each revealed a horrifying reality: "<a href="http://www.latimes.com/world/global-development/la-na-texas-black-maternal-mortality-2017-htmlstory.html"><b><span style="color: #20124d;">The quiet crisis among African Americans: Pregnancy and childbirth are killing women at inexplicable rates</span></b></a>," "<a href="https://www.essence.com/news/black-women-mortality-rate-child-deaths-united-states"><b><span style="color: #20124d;">A Matter Of Life & Death: Why Are Black Women In The U.S. More Likely To Die During Or After Childbirth?</span></b></a>," "<a href="https://womenintheworld.com/2017/10/31/maternal-mortality-rates-are-stunningly-high-for-black-women-in-texas/"><b><span style="color: #20124d;">Maternal mortality rates are ‘stunningly high’ for black women in Texas</span></b></a>," and </div><div>“<a href="https://www.propublica.org/article/nothing-protects-black-women-from-dying-in-pregnancy-and-childbirth"><b><span style="color: #20124d;">Nothing Protects Black Women From Dying in Pregnancy and Childbirth</span></b></a>.” This ProPublica headline isn’t clickbait, in fact, it’s required reading for anyone interested in learning the real and dangerous implications of structural racism. </div><div style="font-style: italic;"><br />
</div><center><script async="" src="//pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js"></script><span id="goog_498525336"> <!-- Large --> <ins class="adsbygoogle" data-ad-client="ca-pub-9450107725766363" data-ad-slot="6852641998" style="display: inline-block; height: 280px; width: 336px;"></ins> <script>
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</script></span></center></div>Literally nothing, not income, not education, not even being a health expert, has spared mothers who have lost their lives to this failure in our health care system. The ProPublica article acknowledges that, in general, high rates of maternal mortality in the U.S. have alarmed researchers. But the statistics for Black women are the reason for all of the headlines. According to the CDC, black mothers in the U.S. die at three to four times the rate of white mothers. A Black woman is 22 percent more likely to die from heart disease than a white woman, 71 percent more likely to perish from cervical cancer, but 243 percent more likely to die from pregnancy- or childbirth-related causes.<br />
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</div><div><div>Today we thank God that Serena Williams, a national treasure and certified alchemist of #blackgirlmagic, didn’t suffer the same fate as the sisters we have lost. In the February cover story of Vogue Magazine, Serena reveals that she had an emergency c-section due to an extreme drop in her blood pressure during contractions. </div><div><br />
</div><div>The surgery went well, but the aftermath was frightening.</div><div><br />
</div><div>After the successful delivery of her first born, Alexis Olympia Ohanian, Jr., Williams experienced complications due to a pre-existing condition. The pulmonary embolism that forced her into a one year tennis hiatus was impacting her recovery. She knew exactly what her body needed, and told the hospital staff. She asked for a CT scan with contrast and a Heparin IV drip. They came back with a Doppler to perform an ultrasound on her legs Ultimately, Serena was correct. Williams presumes the hospital staff probably thought medication she was on was making her overreact. But the statistics and studies surrounding black maternal mortality and morbidity, and African-Americans and healthcare generally, show us that dismissiveness of black pain in hospitals and healthcare settings is quite common. For example, a<b><span style="color: #20124d;"> <a href="https://news.virginia.edu/content/study-links-disparities-pain-management-racial-bias">2016 study</a></span></b> conducted by the University of Virginia and published in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, showed that white patients are more likely than black patients to be prescribed strong pain medications for equivalent ailments.</div><div><br />
</div><div><center><script async="" src="//pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js"></script><span id="goog_498525336"> <!-- Large --> <ins class="adsbygoogle" data-ad-client="ca-pub-9450107725766363" data-ad-slot="6852641998" style="display: inline-block; height: 280px; width: 336px;"></ins> <script>
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</script></span></center><div>But being that she <b>IS<i></i></b> Serena Williams, I’m sure she commanded a certain respect and attention. As Black birthing women, and anyone who serves them, we need to advocate for that same level of respect and care.</div><div><br />
</div><div>We can begin by empowering ourselves with knowledge about our bodies and medical conditions. Serena knew medical details, and jokingly referred to herself as “Dr. Williams.” This may feel tedious, but medical records aren’t always at the ready. Have important information like diagnoses, current medications, and medical history packed in your hospital bag.</div></div><div><br />
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<i>Timil Jones is an entrepreneur, doula, and mom of 3. She writes about money and motherhood.</i></div></div>For Harriethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09683917312535044896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8459894049343832940.post-2752562567719430542017-10-23T18:21:00.000-05:002017-10-23T18:50:33.902-05:00Men Rape Us and You Let Them<div><a href="https://imageshack.com/i/pmY8t9Y1j" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="http://imagizer.imageshack.us/v2/xq90/922/Y8t9Y1.jpg" width="100%" /></a></div>by Nicole Shawan Junior<br />
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Men rape us. <br />
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They rape us in corner offices, and in cubicled workspaces. They rape us on college campuses and in correctional facilities. They rape us in million-dollar shiny glass residences – gaudy golden. And in pissy project stairwells under dim lights while kneeling on sticky steps. <br />
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Men rape us.<br />
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Stalking and hardly slick in plain sight, men prey on those of us who are innocent, and us indomitable ones, too. Those of us who are trying to get put on, and us already kissing the glass ceiling. They R. Kelly piss and fuck on those of us too young to understand rape’s breadth, and those of us who are Anita Hill, old enough to know that he won’t be held accountable.<br />
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Men rape us. And, women join in shaming us silent.<br />
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They shame us for not going to the police. They shame us for waiting too long to file a report. They shame us for being girls with asses that roll like mountains when we walk. For being women with breasts that bounce even when barricaded by bras. For having no ass or tits at all. For being pretty. And ugly too. These muthafuckas shame us for breathing.<br />
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Men are raping us. <br />
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Not all men, but many. The men in our homes, sharing our beds, raising our daughters, and rearing our sons. Yes, Harvey Weinstein is a rapist. R. Kelly is a rapist. Pill Cosby too. But so is Shaquan up the muthfuckin block, Tito around the muthfuckin corner, Jamal over in Howard Projects, and Uncle Whatever-The-Fuck-His-Name-Is! <br />
<br />
Men rape the shit out of us. <br />
While we pretend that this violence ain’t just that – violent as fuck – by reducing their rape to a hashtag and limiting it to Hollywood’s high-class. But, nah B. A hashtag is much too sanitary. Too gentle. Far too fucking limp for men who take power with stabbing dicks, mauling claws, and gnashing jaws glitzed in gold. <br />
<br />
That’s why I write my rape story.<br />
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</script></span></center><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">***</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Summer of ‘93 was on its way out, and Wu Tang Clan’s C.R.E.A.M. knocked at max volume from the boombox in my bedroom, like it did on every corner, in every barbershop and on the baseline of every outdoor basketball court in Bed Stuy. I sang along, word for word, bopping my head while holding to my mouth an imaginary microphone, pretending I was performing the song at a sold-out arena, “I grew up on the crime side, the New York Times side. Staying alive was no jive…” <br />
<br />
A single-parent, my mother was out working one of her two or three jobs. As usual, I was home alone. My boombox keeping boredom at bay. <br />
<br />
“Niki! Nikkkkiiii! Niiiikkkkkiiiiiiii!!!” Keisha’s squealing soprano carried up to my third-floor brownstone apartment, piercing into my bedroom and cutting through the music. I lowered the volume on Raekwon and raced to the living room. Once there, I stuck my head out of the front window and yelled, “Wussup Keesh. I’ll be down right down! Hold on!” <br />
<br />
I powered off my sound system and threw on my hot pink Reebok 54-11s, the name indicating how much they cost – 54 dollars and 11 cents, including tax. The oversized white shorts and shirt set I sported made the sneakers pop. I gelled my baby hairs to my forehead, wrapped some fake kinky braiding hair around my miniature bun, secured it with wavy black bobbi pins and pocketed my house keys. It was time to hit the streets. <br />
<br />
Outside, Keesh sat still, ferociously chewing and popping bubble gum. “Oh my gawdddduh!” Pop. Keesh elongated every syllable, even making God disyllabic. “That was a long ass second.” Pop. “What was you do’in up there?” Pop. Keesh complained before blowing a red gum bubble from between her lips. Her cocoa brown skin glossy and shit.<br />
<br />
I ignored her ass. “Damn girl, how many jars it take to get that shine? Yo ass glistening like a pan of fried chicken grease.” I joked. “You got another blow pop?”<br />
<br />
“You know what?” Pop. “Fuck you Nik!” Pop. “Sticks and stones, bitch.” Pop. “Sticks and stones.” Bubble. Pop.<br />
<br />
Keisha and I forged our bond earlier that summer, when she moved on the block and in with the Simpsons, her foster parents. It was the summer before 8th grade – my last year in junior high. And I just knew I was grown. Every summer before, mama condemned me to close confinement. First, I couldn’t go past the gate outside our house – I was front yard bound. Then I couldn’t go past Poochie’s house, which was only a few houses down. Then I could go anywhere along the block, as long as I didn’t leave it. “You better not cross any streets Niki,” mama warned. <br />
<br />
But this summer was the first time my mother let me hang around the corner and across the street. Now I could hang with my friends Rick Rick, Donte, L-Boogie and Shamika on the Ave. It’s also why I was able to kick it on Keesh’s stoop, which was up the block and across the street from my crib. “Don’t go too far” mama instructed. “I mean it, Nicole.”<br />
<br />
“Yo, Rick Rick and Donte just passed by. They goin to Big Rick’s. Rick Rick said we should come thru.” Pop. <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">***</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Keesh and I made our way around the corner to Big Rick’s game room on the Ave. Rick Rick was one of Big Rick’s many kids. Even though he didn’t live in the hood, Rick Rick was always around because his daddy owned the game room. Big Rick a.k.a. Money Makin Rick, was hood rich like a muthafucka. He rocked fly clothes, sported dookey-thick gold rope chains around his neck, had a cell phone when it was normal not to have one, and drove an MVP, which the Wu had just put me – if not the whole hood – on to. Big Rick was a superstar. <br />
<br />
Big Rick’s game room was tiny. The shellacked wood flooring drifted its way into the edges where steel grey painted walls erupted. In the center of the floor, an Elmo red carpet pocked with stiff patches and blackened gum stains frazzled under the weight of a pool table. Upon entrance, a change machine and various arcade games lined the left and right walls. Street Fighter, Mortal Combat, Outrun, Ms. Pacman, and more. In the back of the game room, on the wall opposing the front entrance, Ill Will, an older cat from around the way, manned the store where I copped cherry Sour Powers and apple blow pops for me and Keesh. The smell of his spliff crept across the store counter into the game space. Keesh and I fake coughed, joking about catching contact, then played a few rounds of Ms. Pacman as Rick Rick, Donte and some of the other neighborhood kids worked the fight games. After the mechanical claw machine failed to snag the white-nosed, pink teddy bear I spent a small fortune trying to capture, leaving me empty-handed and -pocketed, Keesh and I bounced. <br />
<br />
Outside the game room, Big Rick wiped down the passenger door to his notorious whip with a dry rag. He called out, “Hey wassup Niki.” Taken aback and feeling extra cool that Big Rick knew my name, I responded, “Oh, hey Mr. Rick. I’m good. We had a good time in your game room.” I mean, what else was there to say? I wasn’t in the habit of talking to my friend’s fathers, especially none other than Money Making Rick. “You know you can call me Rick, right? Why don’t you come here a second?”<br />
<br />
I glanced back at Keesh, whose campfire marshmallow-wide eyes and quick shrug said bitch go ‘head and find out what he want. I walked over to where he stood, leaving Keesh standing in front of the door leading to the game room. As I approached, Rick closed the distance. “I wanna take you out.” He cooed. Pleading, “You think I could do that?” while smilingly staring me down. Too nervous – and uncomfortable – to return his gaze, my eyes fixated on his open mouth, laced with gold bottoms. <br />
<br />
Confusion claimed me for a flash, but was quickly replaced by rapture. That Big Rick, the hood star, who could take any woman he wanted to out, wanted to take ME on a date sent my unhardened, unsuspecting little ass spiraling over cloud nine. “Uh, sure. Um, that’s cool.” I responded, before he asked, “whatchu doing tonight?”<br />
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</script></span></center><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">***</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Mom was out working the night shift again. At 9:00 p.m. on the nose, I met Rick in front of the game room, where Ill Will stood, leaning against the wall with squinted eyes as he smoked a stogie. Rick hoisted me onto the passenger seat before buckling me in. He slammed the door and gave Ill Will dap. Dressed in my best gear – oversized boys denim-blue Karl Kani jeans, a white-T and all white 54-11s – with my baby hairs re-laid, you couldn’t tell me that I wasn’t fresh.<br />
<br />
Inside Rick’s whip was plush as fuck. Leather interior. Nice sound system. New car smell. All things my mother’s Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme lacked. I’d never been in a ride so suped up. I’d never been in a stranger’s ride, period. I was hype. I wondered where he was taking us, but I didn’t have the courage to ask. In fact, I had neither the courage nor the wits to say anything. I rode shottie, silent. Mentally cursing my mother for keeping me locked up on the block, and celebrating my luck that a dude this fine and paid and mature was taking me out.<br />
<br />
Music occupied every second of the ride. Rap joints that lit the streets that summer, as well as joints I never heard before, rocked. Filling the silence. I enjoyed the music and the smooth ride down unfamiliar Brooklyn streets. This joy ride with Rick satiated the thirst for adventure that Keesh and I tried to squelch all summer long.<br />
<br />
Until Rick pulled into the parking lot at the Galaxy Motel on Pennsylvania Avenue. <br />
<br />
The Galaxy, I later learned, was a motel of choice for Johns and prostitutes in East New York and Canarsie. Although it was dark out, the motel’s desperate state did not go unnoticed. Missing valet and bellhops and red carpet, the motel’s entrance was barren cement. Its front appeared windowless, but for the blacked-out windows on the ground level. Vertical bars piked the grounds surrounding the motel’s grassless perimeter. The motel’s name scrolled in scarlet script high across its beige concrete exterior, GALAXY.<br />
<br />
Once he found a spot, Rick opened the driver’s door sending my heart into cardiac arrest. My mind reeled. What is this? Why are we at a motel? When Rick faced me and told me to stay in the car, I felt immense relief. I thought, oh good. He’s picking something up from someone here. We’ll be on our way, even if that’s back to the block, soon. I eased back into my comfortable leather seat, letting the music consume me again.<br />
<br />
Within minutes, Rick jumped back in the car, cut the music and removed the key from the ignition before saying, “come on, let’s go.” I panicked. My gut told me to run the fuck away, but my head questioned, and go where? Where the fuck am I? How am I gonna get home? I spent all of my allowance at the game room earlier that day. I thought about hitching a ride, but, that would be dangerous. Who knows whose car I’ll have the misfortune of getting into. I thought about whether I could walk, but I’ll have to ask for directions. Niggas’ll know I’m not from here. I’ll be an easy fucking mark in a hood I don’t know. I could scream for help like mama told me to do over and over again when a stranger tried to take me. No, no, no. Rick’s no stranger. His son is my boy. There’s gotta be a restaurant inside.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">***</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>There was no restaurant.<br />
<br />
There was a room. Beige. Beige walls. Beneath the rust red, dingy, threadbare comforter, beige sheets. Beige pillowcases. Beige towels. Stale cigarettes and ammonia. Smacked my nose numb. Rick lifting off his shirt. Me looking away, embarrassed. Shook. Rick grabbing my chin, forcing me to look at him. Rick naked. Only gold teeth and chain remained. Rick smiling. His smile disemboweled from his face. Please, someone, help me.<br />
<br />
Rick’s penis grotesquely bulbous, bulging into my chin as he held my face there. “Make me harder.” What? Rick grabbing the back of my head. Pulling my face to his penis. Don’t open your mouth, don’t open your mouth. I opened my mouth. Or did his penis pry it open? Bite him. I lacked Lorena Bobbit balls. His hand gripped my fake bun. Shifting it side to side. Forcing my head up and down. Oh God, please make him stop, Godddd pleeeeeasse!” I gagged. His grab stiffened. He coached. “Suck. Suck harder. Grab my balls.” No, Big Rick, No! Gooey, salty, stickiness filled my mouth. <br />
<br />
He was only getting started.<br />
<br />
Rick releasing my head. My jaw throbbing. My throat burning. Me, shaking so hard I felt the sharpness of my ribs. Rick pressing my chest with his palm. My back digging deep into the mattress. Rick pulling down my oversized jeans without so much as unbuttoning them. Mounting me. Pop. Fucking me. Pop. Raw and dry. Pop. Pop. Me gasping. Then, me, trying my best to maneuver from under his weight. He was much too large. <br />
<br />
I never felt the heavy of a grown ass man before. <br />
<br />
“It hurts too much Big Rick, please stoppp!” Me, sobbing. Rick not stopping. The pain piercing, like a slither of paper slicing into the same cut over and over again. My eyes pouring. My breath catching. My forearm and palm against his chest, trying to claim distance between us. The bedside’s lamp flickering. Him grunting, finally pulling out of me. Blood and semen drip. <br />
<br />
“Shit Nik, that pussy good girl.”<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">***</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>I never screamed. I always envisioned that I would scream. If a stranger attacks, I’ll scream so loud everyone within a mile would come running to my defense. If a stranger tries to kidnap me, I promise I’ll act a fool and fight for dare life. I’ll fuck a nigga up, that’s my word! I thought I would rage. But, I never even screamed. Nor did I ever say “no.”<br />
<br />
Silently Rick and I made our way from the room, to the elevator, out the lobby, through the parking lot and to his car. I let myself in before he pulled out of his space and drove into the driveway of the McDonald’s across the street. He asked, “Yo, whachu wanna eat?” His gold teeth enshrouded. <br />
<br />
I ordered “a six piece nuggets, no fries.” I wasn’t hungry, but I ordered the nuggets so as not to seem ungrateful. No fries because I didn’t want to seem like I was asking for too much. I thought myself sensible. Strategic. I just want to go home.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">***</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>The next day, Keesh came thru, yelling up to my third story apartment again. “Niki, Keisha’s outside for you.” I asked my moms to tell her that I wasn’t home. “I just don’t feel like being bothered,” was my excuse. My mom walked to the intercom, “Hey Keisha, she’s not here. I’ll let her know you were looking for her.”<br />
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</script></span></center><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">***</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>I never told anyone about that night at the Galaxy, until now, when I’m a thirty-six-year-old lawyer who started her legal career by prosecuting domestic violence crimes. Shit, it’s no coincidence that my first felony trial involved the statutory rape of a fourteen year-old-girl. I went hard as fuck in the paint to convince the jury to convict. But, the jury deadlocked. They wanted DNA. The sworn word of a Brooklyn-born black girl from the projects wasn’t enough. And my witness didn’t have the emotional capacity to testify again. Opposing counsel and I struck a deal, and the Defendant pled guilty to misdemeanor assault – a lesser, non-sexual offense.<br />
<br />
At twelve, I knew that if I accused Rick of rape, the hood would have chosen to side with him – Money Making Rick – and not Niki who hangs out late when her mama ain’t around. Not Niki who has no gold. Not Niki who is a girl and fatherless and brotherless too. “Nah, Niki ain’t no victim. Niki’s a ho. A liar. And, worst of all, a snitch.” <br />
<br />
When this is the world you must survive in, you keep quiet.<br />
<br />
You take alternate routes to the bus, to the store, to the train. You stop going to Donte’s building, taking Keesh’s calls and hanging on your stoop. You never go into the game room, not by it, not past it, not near it. You cross the street when a man you don’t know approaches. You’re paralyzed by anxiety when a pack of men hang on a corner you must pass. You turn the other way and hot foot it the fuck out of dodge when you see Rick. <br />
<br />
You hide until you are thirty-six years old. <br />
<br />
And then, the shame subsides and the anger boils when you see a fucking hashtag. A hashtag that applies to you, but that can never sum your shit the fuck up. A hashtag with only five letters that follow. A hashtag that threatens to hide the horror behind it. And you can no longer keep it buried.<br />
<br />
Men rape. Big Rick, my friend Rick Rick’s daddy, who owned a game room that had a mechanical claw machine with a white-nosed, pink stuffed teddy bear. Big Rick who the hood celebrated. Big Rick with the mouth of gold. Big Rick is my rapist. And Ill Will knew. And I was only twelve. <br />
<br />
<i>Nicole Shawan Junior, Esquire is a Brooklyn-born lawyer and writer who puts pen-to-paper to capture the journeys of black women born to poverty. She writes for the poetry of the hood and girls who pack heat and 80s babies who did their best in trying to raise themselves.</i>For Harriethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09683917312535044896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8459894049343832940.post-80745049503529806572017-09-11T11:03:00.000-05:002017-09-11T11:03:46.902-05:00How to Survive at a PWI if You're Queer, Black and Woman<b></b><br />
<div><b><img alt=" photo iStock-468193980.jpg" border="0" src="http://i789.photobucket.com/albums/yy172/thehlmn/iStock-468193980.jpg" width="100%" /></b></div><br />
<b>by Delisa Perry</b><br />
<br />
A lot of us who identify as queer, Black, or woman or a combination of the three may find ourselves at an institution that has explicitly or implicitly harmed or silenced parts of our identity. We may not fully realize how detrimental to our safety the ideologies and policies that uphold these institutions are until we are well into our respective academic programs. By that time, for various reasons, it may become difficult to either transfer or leave once we become aware of the lack of safety. Our physical, mental, and emotional health is crucial to our overall wellness as queer and/or Black women and needs to be fostered wherever we may find ourselves. My story is not unique but should be told anyway, given that the survival of my communities depends on telling our own stories.<br />
<br />
Before beginning graduate school at a conservative evangelical institution, I was superficially aware of the implications of my race, sexuality, and gender as a queer Black woman. I was mostly concerned with my passion for philosophy and the desire to learn about the foundations of the field from a Christian perspective. This all changed in 2014 with Black Lives Matter quickly gaining traction and my white Christian “friends” revealing how they truly felt about Black lives.<br />
<br />
I know that I am not the first nor the last Black woman to attend a PWI, therefore I find it necessary to aid my fellow queer Black women in navigating their own spaces within these institutions. Despite these institutions’ claims of wanting to “set the captives free”, for the most part, they do not have marginalized groups’ best interests in mind regarding our race, gender expression, and/or sexuality. Because of my experience at PWIs for the past eight years, I am aware that people of color, women, and LGBTQ+ folks may find themselves walking the halls of certain institutions. I would like to offer some timely reminders, warnings, and encouragement for my fellow queer Black women.<br />
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</script></span></center><b><span style="font-size: large;">How to thrive at a PWI:</span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<ol><li>Know that as a queer black woman, you belong at the table as a scholar who is fully human, and deserving of respect and critique from those who reciprocate respect and critique.</li>
<li>Learn the rules of their game so that it will be easier to transgress in your own work.</li>
<li>Pick your battles. Do not waste precious time "debating" cisgender heterosexual white men on YOUR humanity.</li>
<li>Perfect the art of counter arguments, this will sharpen your academic work and conversations.</li>
<li>When one of your peers reaches out in genuine compassion, try to think twice before lashing out. They may become one of your few close friends during your time there.</li>
<li>Be prepared to have microaggressions lunged at you.</li>
<li>Know how to combat the racist and anti-black microaggressions in whatever way feels safe for you.</li>
<li>Deliberately reach out to other Black women in other programs. You all will need each other for support.</li>
<li>Do not be afraid of taking a break from the predominant readings (i.e. White men) and seek out works from those who share your identities.</li>
<li>Do not be deterred by the dismissal by your (white male) professors concerning your passion for your people.</li>
<li>Know that there are Black women scholars who will provide an honest critique of your work. Stay in touch with them.</li>
</ol><br />
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</script></span></center>These are but a few suggestions that will hopefully better assist and heal those who are currently or plan on attending a PWI or private Christian institution. As a graduate student studying philosophy and the only Black woman in my philosophy program, I find it necessary to bring healing and knowledge to others who may be isolated. You are not alone.<br />
<div><br />
</div>For Harriethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09683917312535044896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8459894049343832940.post-85759000979094808022017-09-07T12:30:00.000-05:002017-09-07T12:31:12.422-05:00Your Education or Social Status Won't Save You From Domestic Violence<img alt=" photo white.png" border="0" src="http://i789.photobucket.com/albums/yy172/thehlmn/white.png" width="100%" /><br />
<b>by Arlecia D. Simmons</b><br />
<div>
<br /></div>
Jeannine Shante Skinner, 35. <br />
<br />
Her name was not familiar nor was it in my Facebook or cell phone contacts.<br />
<br />
“Initial information indicates the incident is possibly domestic related, and the victim and suspect knew each other, Charlotte-Mecklenburg police said,” reported The Charlotte Observer under the headline “Slain UNCC professor ‘had so much to give to Charlotte.’” <br />
<br />
Reading the fate of Skinner immediately shifted me into a space of lament as I read the September 2 news article posted in a closed Facebook group for minority female academics.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
“This could have easily been me.” <br />
<br />
I reposted the news report and added the caption “So sad. Hits close to home on so many levels.” The story resonated with me as I looked at the mocha-kissed sister whose hair was woven like mine in locs with blonde highlights. Her career ended at the same university where my teaching career started, and she was young. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Although a few years my junior, she was a member of what I call the “Sistah Docs”: women of African descent who now hold earned doctorate degrees in various disciplines. Skinner, an assistant professor of gerontology and psychology in the Department of Psychological Science at the University of North Carolina at Charlotte, didn’t live to publish that seminal textbook students will read to learn more about aging. Her story becomes an addendum to the countless log of women who died at the hands of a partner, lover, husband, or someone who loved them to death. <br />
<br />
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<br />
There is no one “type” of woman who finds herself at the end of a gun, knife, hammer, brick, or ice pick, yet there’s often a perception that women who are subject to violence are poor, of a lower class, or are mothers dependent on men. We are saddened by their homicides as we silently question and ask, “Why didn’t they just leave?” <a href="https://ncadv.org/files/National%20Statistics%20Domestic%20Violence%20NCADV.pdf" target="_blank"><span style="color: #20124d;"><b>Every 9 seconds</b></span></a> in the United States a woman is assaulted or beaten. <br />
<br />
But after being judgmental I’ve had to confront my own dating and mating choices and ask why did I stay in situations that could have easily ended with my mama calling our sorority sisters to prepare my final ceremony. <br />
<br />
Although I know nothing more about Skinner than what has been reported in news reports, I have been the woman ready to conquer my beloved profession in a new city without family, and often more than ready to take a chance on love. Often new transitions, tenure and promotions, family obligations, and just plain old vulnerability derail our vetting processes. Before we know it, we’re in “Bae-dom.” He says what we want to hear, responds how we need him to respond, and he may even vacuum or wash dishes to lighten our loads. All the while, our guards begin to come down.<br />
<br />
I mean, I, Arlecia the trained journalist who teaches interviewing skills, would have never believed I would once end up going on multiple dates with a man on the sexual offender registry. Of course, he was innocent, and there’s a reasonable doubt that he could be based on how black and brown men are coerced to plead to guilty instead of going to trial. While I could not be judge nor jury for an offense I had no evidence of beyond his personal testimony. I had to decide if his actions and words lined up. His words were convincing while the actions were not. Before my safety or that of others were jeopardized, I was blessed to be able to walk away. Sadly, that’s not the reality for many who find themselves in relationships where grace has been extended and love given only for a not-so-happily-ever-after. <br />
<br />
In memory of Skinner, I vow to pay more attention to church members, students, and sisters I encounter who are trying to find strength and direction to exit a violent union. As a seminary-trained minister with 400 hours as a chaplain intern, I recognize that helping women escape toxic relationships isn’t easy. For many, leaving only occurs after multiple attempts. And then there are the children. Thus, allies and listening ears may find themselves between rocks and hard places. <br />
<br />
But will we risk experiencing the tension of those hard places to help keep a sister alive? Will we stop avoiding the writing on our own walls as we try to love people to life who may not chose to do the same for us? <br />
<br />
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<br />
Ironically on the same day the public learns about Skinner’s death and her family, friends, colleagues, and students begin to grieve her life, OWN Network aired the second-part of a new series called the Black Love Documentary. As I engaged in the Twitterverse with other viewers, it was clear information about healthy relationships and communication needed to be more intentionally infused into our community. I even tweeted that a curriculum needed to be developed and taught to coincide with show.<br />
<br />
Maybe, just maybe, learning how to manage our emotions, communicate, and work through issues may help couples build stronger unions and show men and women that silencing a partner through death is not the only way to end a disagreement. Who knows if helping people of color embrace mental health counseling and increasing its access will stop partner violence? <br />
<br />
There’s usually one degree of separation between Sistah Docs. I lament today that I’ll never meet Sistah Doc Jeannine or hear about her research over brunch. I speak and write her name, and pray that someone will read these words and realize that love doesn’t have to hurt or kill. <br />
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Arlecia Simmons Ph.D., M.Div., is a writer, ordained minister, and a Visiting Professor of Mass Communications at Claflin University in Orangeburg, S.C. She is the author of <i>Diggin' For Treasure: Jewels of Hope When Pressure & Time Collide</i>.</div>
For Harriethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09683917312535044896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8459894049343832940.post-11244640324126419682017-09-06T23:55:00.000-05:002017-09-06T23:56:22.426-05:00Self-Care After the Incense Burns Out: Giving Myself Back to Me<div><b><a href="https://imageshack.com/i/poQzuCMRj" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="http://imagizer.imageshack.us/v2/xq90/924/QzuCMR.jpg" width="100%" /></a></b></div><b>by Catherine Labiran <complete id="goog_1727131864">@CathsLabiran</complete></b><br />
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Lately I have been preoccupied with exploring and dismantling my old definition of self-care and building a new one that is tailored to my own experience. This exploration was, in part, sparked by a dissatisfaction with the typical framing of self-care as being synonymous with pampering. I also grew tired of conversations about self-care being solely linked to some form of meditation.<br />
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The title for this piece was inspired by imagining ways to care for myself after my incense runs or burns out. By incense I mean both literal incense and incense as a metaphorical representation for all of the items that I turned to for self-care.<br />
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Along with these thoughts also came the realization of how companies that directly contribute to violence against Black lives were feeding on the grief that Black folk were experiencing and re-branding their products as remedies – a form of self care. Simultaneously, I acknowledged the discomfort that I felt when I realized that my idea of self-care was dependent on consumerism. I asked myself this simple, yet humongous question: what does internal liberation look like? Immediately I knew that my answer involved not having to search for things outside of myself.<br />
<center><script async="" src="//pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js"></script><span id="goog_498525336"> <!-- Large --> <ins class="adsbygoogle" data-ad-client="ca-pub-9450107725766363" data-ad-slot="6852641998" style="display: inline-block; height: 280px; width: 336px;"></ins> <script>
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</script></span></center>And I appreciate that my answer probably sounds a lot like a romanticized, unattainable concept of independence, but it does the spirit good to at least dream. Having this dream, I was drawn to explore practical avenues of self-care that involved all of me but little to no money.<br />
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I decided to start with touch. Yes, <i>touching my own body</i>.<br />
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I realized how much miseducation there is around touch – the misconception that touch only equates to sexual touch – the erroneous idea that our hands belong to everyone and everything but ourselves. Consequently, we become ignorant to our own bodies. Unfortunately, like many people, I arrived at my desire to be more knowledgeable about my body through health worries. Through questions that I was unable to answer in the doctor's office, I realized that it was impossible for me to recognize my sick body because I hadn’t acknowledged it when healthy. So as I sat there in doctor's office ignorant about the body that I live in, I made a promise to begin re-defining my idea of self-care with touch.<br />
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<b>Saying it was easy and doing it was hard.</b><br />
I noticed how apprehensive I was to begin this journey. I recognized that my skin had archived memories that I was afraid to trigger. At the same time, I knew that it was important for me to know the places on my body that remind me of hurt while also learning the places that make me smile and remind me of pleasure. I felt that this was important not only for my own personal knowledge but also to inform my physical interactions with others.<br />
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I developed a better understanding of my physicality through body mapping. Put simply, body mapping is a form of art and therapy where you draw an outline of yourself and fill it with words and images that come to mind when you reflect on that particular body part. I was amazed that by thinking about particular body parts, like my hands, feet, or stomach, I became immersed in memories that evoked all of my senses. By engaging in this simple exercise I started to appreciate my body more by acknowledging how much it has carried. I developed a deeper appreciation for the miracle of being. The way that parts of my body faithfully communicate with each other in order to allow me to wake up in the morning. I was thankful.<br />
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After body mapping, I moved on to body examinations. I worry a lot about my health, so this was incredibly hard for me – but I did it and now I can say that I “do” it. I frequently give myself a <a href="http://www.breastcancer.org/symptoms/testing/types/self_exam/bse_steps"><span style="color: #20124d;"><b>breast examination</b></span></a> in the morning. I aim to do this ritualistically not only for matters of health, but also to develop expertise on myself. At first I found that statement weird – “develop expertise on myself” – am I not just innately an expert on myself? But when I thought about how much I change on a daily basis I realized that this whole being an expert thing is going to be a lifelong project.<br />
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</script></span></center>I am also a firm believer in the healing power of hands. In many religious and spiritual texts, you hear about someone/something stretching its hands, which leads to healing. People have Reiki healing sessions and are transformed. People have massages and are renewed. I started believing that I could harness this same magic and that nothing was more deserving to receive this blessing than my own body. I have come to see the act of touch as prayerful.<br />
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And even though I regard this as a form of self-care, I see many ways that this could lead to collective and community-care.<br />
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It would be wonderful if more parents taught their children to be comfortable with their bodies. It would be wonderful if this dialogue was sparked between friends. It would be glorious if our education systems and places of worship supported this kind of self-care.<br />
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And I think that’s important that I reiterate that this is a major deviation from my previous idea of self-care that was pretty much synonymous with pampering. But this moment in my calls for some practical, yet challenging, $free.99 self-loving. And who knows, tomorrow may call for a spa day, or some good old incense and meditation. My joy comes from being open to this fluidity.<br />
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I still have a long way to go, but I am so glad that I have begun. I am so glad that I am giving myself back to me.<br />
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Photo Credit: Kadir Gold<br />
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<i>Catherine Labiran is a 23-year-old Nigerian writer who was born in New York, raised in London and is currently living in New Haven, Connecticut. Catherine is a graduate student at Yale and is also the Human Rights Advocacy coordinator at the US Human Rights Network.</i><style type="text/css">
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<b>by Lacrisha Honeybrown @Lacrisha.Honeybrown</b></div>
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During a conversation with a Black man a few weeks ago, in the presence of another Black woman, it happened. Again. I felt the need to defend my hair length. As soon as the exchange ended, I was haunted. Disturbed by the incessant occurrence of having to exculpate my existence, my beauty. Before I could properly process what I was doing and stop myself, I had JUSTIFIED MY HAIR LENGTH. <i>Justified</i>. As if there was something wrong or ugly about it, as if I was less attractive because my hair length was modest, even average, for a Black girl. A Black man had informed me, proudly and perhaps innocently, in front of another woman with longer hair that his hair had been longer than mine “at one point.”<br />
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We’ve all heard or said The Defenses before. “My hair used to be really long BUT.” “That perm my mom forced me to get broke my hair off, girl.” “I told the hairdresser to just cut my split ends and she cut a few inches off. It’ll grow back.” “I did the big chop.” We’ve all cringed at the “bald head scallywag” jokes on the middle school playground, subconsciously brushed down gelled up baby hairs to ensure ourselves that we had edges, dodge that jab. Why is brushing down gelled up baby hairs even a thing? Doesn’t this act implicitly ingrain the message that natural edges are unruly or unsightly?<br />
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Then, the fact that this man prefaced the hair length comparison statement with “no disrespect but…” had clearly, immediately and innately activated the need for me to defend myself, defend my hair. It made the statement inherently disrespectful and suggested a hair inferiority. “Well, I’m not offended because I chopped all of my hair off. I did the big chop.” I blurted out as I recovered and attempted to hide my chagrin under the guise of enlightening my peers with indisputable facts. I might as well have said, “So you see, your hair was only longer than mine by default. You are not better than me, your hair does not grow longer or faster. I started over. So there. My hair is freaking awesome dude BE HUMBLE!”<br />
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A similar microaggression was facilitated by a white female coworker a few months prior. In the same breath of her complimenting how full, cute, and suiting my afro puff debut at work was, she denigrated another sister, A Black female acquaintance of hers that she couldn’t, for the life of her, decode why the woman had opted to wear a ponytail that was “this” (she demonstrated for dramatic effect with her finger and thumb barely separated) long. <br />
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That Sunday evening after The Defense, I moisturized and cornrowed my curls in my bedroom whilst getting lost and mesmerized by the gentle crooning of Jill Scott playing in the background of my makeshift hair salon. I was preparing for my next protective style while giving Queen Latifah in Set It Off vibes with my straight-back, tightly and neatly plaited locks. In my meditative thug life glory, I forced myself to decompress from the week’s weariness and anticipated the new beginning of the next week. I had survived yet another conventional beauty standard microaggression and had lived to defend myself another day. I wondered, “When?” <br />
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When exactly are we going to stop scrutinizing a fish by its ability to climb a tree? When we’re made of the same star essence and universe rain from which our hair, like trees and flowers, sprout. Spiral upward to greet the sun’s rays. Voluminous. Luminous. Copious. Billowing. Created to rise, magnificently blossom, and be spatially excellent. Outsmarting and gently defeating gravity in unique testament to an especially magic divinity. An enchanting intensity that somehow shines through even in a brush cut. <br />
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Our hair is meant to curl, coil, jump, and leap! Stretch and shout for joy. Vibrate, an antenna majestically intertwined with the galaxy. Humidity forecasts strong springiness with a slight chance of shrinkage and a high chance of slayage. Encounters with heat engender silkiness. Water, softly rippling waves. Air, flourishing kinks proudly riding the breeze. Requiring nourishment like the soil. A mirror of the Earth. Black Girl Radiance is not defined by hair length: Our magic is far too big and resilient for that. <br />
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<i>Lacrisha is a healing, growth, and wellness enthusiast who likes to spend her spare time participating in sophisticated ratchet hippie thug scholar things like lamenting adulting and reading books. She is a proud alumna of both the illustrious Howard University and North Carolina Central University.</i>For Harriethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09683917312535044896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8459894049343832940.post-9571105704979218122017-07-31T06:21:00.000-05:002017-07-31T12:33:29.695-05:00Black Men, Don't Make Trans Women Pay for Your Fragile Masculinity<div>
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<i><span style="color: #666666; font-size: x-small;">Photo Credit: YouTube</span></i></div>
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<b>by L'lerrét Jazelle Ailith @<a href="http://twitter.com/thebaejazelle" target="_blank"><span style="color: #20124d;">thebaejazelle</span></a></b></div>
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Last week, best-selling trans author and advocate, Janet Mock, appeared on The Breakfast Club where she took that time to educate hosts DJ Envy, Angela Yee, and Charlamagne tha God on the politics of being trans. </div>
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A couple of days later, they invited comedian Lil Duval on to roast the Real Side Chicks of Charlotte. Mind you, this episode was days after Janet Mock was interviewed. In the beginning of the episode, Charlamage asks Lil Duval how he felt about the transgender military ban and from that point forward, they proceeded to dehumanize trans people for comic relief. Lil Duval shouts out all of the “trannies” and then proceeds to explain how he’d murder a trans woman who would “trick” him into having sex with her. As opposed to chastising Duval, the hosts exclaimed that that was hate crime while hysterically laughing. They even added that we should go to jail as an alternative to murder. And to add insult to injury, Charlamagne brings up Janet’s sit down interview while DJ Envy holds up her book, with her face on the cover, and begs Lil Duval to rate her attractiveness. Lil Duval begs DJ Envy to put the book down and when pressed to say she’s pretty, Duval exclaims “that nigga doing his thing” and turns with a grimacing look on his face. The hosts proceed to laugh at his ignorance.</div>
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The scene on The Breakfast Club directly mirrors what happens in the broader society. Men like Duval put on a silly show to “defend their manhood” while others like Charlamagne and DJ Envy not only egg him on, but laugh at his jokes. And women like Angela Yee sit in the corner silent and complicit </div>
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If Black trans women minding our business is such a threat to Black men, Black manhood must be in crisis. We need to have a discussion amongst ourselves, Black people, about Black men who never know how to hurt or work shit out without hurting others around them. Black men’s carelessness in handling their own discomfort has created violent conditions for those around them. With folks like Lil Duval recklessly articulating such bigoted sentiments, he emboldens others to weaponize against trans folks in order to protect their street cred without any regard for human life. Moral lines are crossed when speak of meditated murder is used as comedic banter and broadly accepted. </div>
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It is time that Black men focus less on trans women’s existence and focus more on unlearning their internalized oppression. From birth, men and women are socialized to normalize sex and gender and make unquestioned assertions of what is considered masculine and feminine. But, masculinity is an unstable construct. Have you ever noticed how masculinity is so fragile that even the slightest bit of what we define as “feminine” destroys it? Oh, he’s wearing pink? Oh, he painted his fingernails? Oh, he likes art and shit? He must not be a real man. </div>
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Society indicating who is a man and who is a woman is not about biology and genetics. It’s not about X or Y chromosomes! It's about the systemic ordering of bodies and how they navigate space. It strips us of our innate right to self-determine how we as individuals wish to show up in the world. The internal discomfort that Black men experience rooted in their navigation of a restrictive gender norming system is connected to the gendered state violence that Black women and femmes are victim to every day perpetuated by that same gendered system. </div>
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Black men seek to prove their manhood by reinforcing toxic behaviors and gendered absolutes. One such behavior is the invalidation of trans women’s humanity to reinforce their own. And in doing so, they serve as a system of policing for other men as well – especially for those men who are attracted to trans women. Our society fails to allow individuals to determine for themselves who they wish to love. Black men have created this atmosphere that celebrates other Black men for seeking to murder trans women and admonishes them for seeking to love and validate us. Janet once wrote, “this pervasive ideology says that trans women are shameful, that trans women are not worthy of being seen and that trans women must remain a secret — invisible and disposable. If a man dares to be seen with a trans woman, he will likely lose social capital so he must adamantly deny, vehemently demean, trash and exterminate the woman in question. He must do this to maintain his standing in our patriarchal society. For a man to be associated with a trans woman, in effect, is to say that he is no longer a “real” man (as if such a thing exists) because he sleeps with “fake” women (as if such a thing exists).”</div>
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I’m so sorry, my brother, that you feel like the world is asking so much of you and you can’t be your full self, but we aren’t going to excuse Black men for their fuckshit. When will Black men start to free themselves from these mental chains? They bash us but also rely on our support to end the violence perpetrated onto their bodies. For centuries, Black trans women and femmes have been burdened with the labor of defending Black men and have been the backbones of movements resisting white supremacist forces, We’ve been consistently comfortable with being loved in the dark while simultaneously being dehumanized and slandered in the light. It is time Black men are called out on their incessant need to disassociate from kinship with Black trans women to prove their worthiness of manhood.</div>
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Black men are teaching one another that in order to achieve full humanity for themselves, they must force themselves and others to relinquish it. How does one say “Black lives matter” while stripping the dignity and rights of self-determination and bodily autonomy from Black trans women? How can one wish to see our community whole while simultaneously stripping that wholeness away from others to empower themselves?</div>
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This year alone, 15 Black transgender women have been murdered at the hands of intimate partners, who are usually Black men. And more often than not, men are well aware that we are trans. The narrative about us tricking men is ludicrous when you have men with platforms like DJ Envy, Charlamagne, and Lil Duval making light of violence against us. How can we possibly live freely and openly in a society that thinks lightly of jokes about our extermination? Janet Mock wrote on her blog about this, “If a young trans woman believes that the only way she can share intimate space with a man is through secret hookups, booty calls or transaction [...] she will be led to coddle a man who takes out his frustrations about his sexuality on her with his fists; she will be led to question whether she’s worthy enough to protect herself with a condom when a man tells her he loves her; she will be led to believe that she is not worthy of being seen, that being seen heightens her risk of violence. Therefore, she must hide who she is at all costs to survive.” We are murdered for “disclosing” our trans experience to those who desired us before knowing. We are murdered for keeping it to ourselves. We are murdered for not passing as cis and navigating space in our day to day lives. We are murdered for passing too well as cis and navigating space in our day to day lives. We are murdered for speaking our truth to power. We are murdered for daring to live our best lives as our fullest selves by the men who wish they could do the same.</div>
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Are Black men so self-centered that they fail to connect these dots? It is time that we stop coddling these men who are unwilling to unlearn their toxic behavior.</div>
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This extends even to men who fuck us. Desire, empathy, and respect are not one in the same nor are they precursors to each other. Much of the debate around trans existence in space is about desirability. But let’s be clear, we have never had an issue in that department. Black trans womanhood is beautiful and in high demand. The trade will slide in our DM’s quicker than they will run to our defense when we’re being harassed. And the same men who will bash us in public will hit us up in the wee hours of the morning asking for some head. You aren’t slick. The jig is up.</div>
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Trans attracted men get no passes because loving us is not an eradication of your trash behavior. We don’t need your love to feel whole or valued. You aren’t doing us favors. The same men who say they are attracted to us will forever be mute at times that require our defense. They’re the same men who will throw out desire as a stand alone defense of our humanity - as if they aren’t complicit in perpetuating violence upon our bodies. People say they love you but they just love how loving you makes them feel about themselves. Desire is not enough. </div>
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None of us are free until all of us are free. And like Charlene Carruthers of BYP100 states time and time again, “Black folks will not be free if we continue to tell incomplete stories about what’s happening in our communities and what’s happening to our people.” When we talk about the violence affecting our people, we have to address the ways in which mental health and internalized oppression play a role in reinforcing that violence particularly on the folks you often ignore - trans, gender non-conforming, disabled, undocumented, sex workers, etc. We must hold these folks accountable. The same men snuffing us out will also be on the front lines at the Black Lives Matter marches or on the Black Lives Matter panels. We have to tell complete stories about what’s going on with our people and the many layered ways that state violence affects us. Because then, as Charlene says, “in telling more complete stories, we’re able to develop more complete solutions.” If your eyes are truly centered on Black liberation, Black men, please liberate your minds first before being a counterproductive force to the liberation of your peers.</div>
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Humanity is limitless and unfettered by social construction. One cannot save humanity while denying trans women their own.</div>
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<i>L'lerrét Jazelle Ailith is a Black trans creative and communications strategist born and raised in Baltimore, MD. She now currently serves as the Communications Manager for BYP100 where she is integral is building out a comprehensive communications infrastructure to support Black, queer feminist youth organizing. L'errét lives and believes in a feminism that is sex positive, glamorous, and affirming but also all things raggedy and contradictory - acknowledging humanness and the complexity of life. She has a passion for acting, uses music as a love language, adores cosmetic surgery (if only she could afford it), and lives for a bomb lace unit.</i>For Harriethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09683917312535044896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8459894049343832940.post-72234111720428488842017-07-21T15:01:00.000-05:002017-07-21T15:01:46.814-05:00No, I Don't Want To Cure My Bipolar Disorder<div><b><img src="http://imageshack.com/a/img924/4870/4slg0V.png" width="100%" /></b></div><b>by Arielle Gray</b><br />
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“Would you cure it?” she asked me with wide eyes. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “You know, your bipolar disorder? Can you do that? I’m sure you can!”<br />
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I just tentatively opened up to a long time friend about my long time struggle with managing my Bipolar Disorder. Recently, I became more open about my mental illness and was trying to be honest with the people in my life about what I went through on the daily.<br />
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</script></span></center>I got a lot of questions from friends and family. Mostly “I would’ve never guessed!” or “You hide it well” or “What’s Bipolar Disorder?” But never before was I asked if I would cure it if ever I could. She wasn’t trying to be malicious or problematic when she tentatively asked me that question. But when she whispered my illness, she unconsciously cloaked it in secrecy and shame. I could tell she was uncomfortable with the situation- I could see it in her eyes every time she glanced down at my scared forearms.<br />
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For y’all that don’t know, there’s currently no way to cure Bipolar Disorder. Traditional methods include medication and therapy sessions, depending on the severity. I went through various bouts of self-harming behavior when I was younger and in college, I spiraled out of control. I went to see this doe eyed, white psychiatrist who immediately suggested a hospital stay because of my suicidal ideation. Those eyes stayed strangely blank & glassy as I told her about all of my angst.<br />
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When I assured her that I was mostly bark & no bite, she wrongly prescribed me Prozac, thinking that I was clinically depressed when I was really in the midst of a severe depressive episode. The Prozac did me in. I failed all of my classes and had to drop out of college and fly back home to ATL. After cycling through a few therapists, I was correctly diagnosed and started on a regimen of medication & therapy sessions. Since then, I’ve managed via a myriad of methods, mainly therapy, weed and spiritual-examination. I’m lucky enough to be able to manage my symptoms- many are not able to.<br />
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A lot of people don’t understand when I tell them about my disorder. Black folk seem to live in this mysterious veil where we think we’re wholly unaffected by mental illnesses. Depression can be cured with prayer, suicidal thoughts are spelled away by the “strong Black woman” trope. We’re especially disenfranchised when it comes to mental health because we stand at a unique intersection of race & gender. Low-income Black women are particularly high risk for experiencing depression at some point in our life and we are also the demographic <a href="https://works.bepress.com/kira_banks/8/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #20124d;"><b>least likely to seek professional help</b></span></a>.<br />
<br />
There are stigmas rooted so deep in our culture surrounding mental illness that over <a href="http://www.mentalhealthamerica.net/african-american-mental-health" target="_blank"><b><span style="color: #20124d;">one half of Black Americans think long term depression is normal</span></b></a>. That’s. Not. Okay. I could write an entirely different piece about the insensitivity of our mental health care system and how our institution’s lack of cultural sensitivity and the normalization of black bodies in conjunction with pain has created a vacuum of space for black women to safely address their mental health concerns.<br />
<br />
So when she asked, “Would you cure it?”, I realized that what she was really saying is “Wouldn’t you just want to be normal?” I realized that her inability to connect with my story about mental illness was symbolic of a larger societal & systemic problem- the failure to see black women as vulnerable human beings. Her question centered the conversation around my mental illness and reinforced it as a “problem”.<br />
<br />
The longer I thought about her question, the more and more I realized that no, I wouldn’t want to cure myself. “Curing” myself, to me, implies that I have something to be ashamed of, something insidious inside of me that needs extraction- the exact opposite is true.<br />
<center><script async="" src="//pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js"></script><span id="goog_498525336"> <!-- Large --> <ins class="adsbygoogle" data-ad-client="ca-pub-9450107725766363" data-ad-slot="6852641998" style="display: inline-block; height: 280px; width: 336px;"></ins> <script>
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</script></span></center>Living life with Bipolar Disorder is hard. There are weeks where I want to die, weeks where I have days long bouts of insomnia. There are times when my manic episodes cause me to forget to eat. There are times when things get so dark that I think about hurting myself again like I used to do. But ultimately, no matter how fucked it is, this is my brain. My disorder has inherently shaped and in many ways, enhanced my life. Having a mental illness is not always limiting- sometimes, it opens our eyes to how ephemeral yet precious things are. Sometimes, it shows us life exactly as it is- beautiful and at the same time, saccharinely cruel.<br />
<br />
I have never appreciated the sunlight more than when I’ve managed to drag myself out of that deep dark pit. Embracing my shadow has allowed me to step more fully into my purpose in life. To live in my truth. There are no bigger demons to face than my own. I face them every night.<br />
<br />
My Bipolar Disorder is a part of me. It always will be. If there is eventually a cure, I hope that whoever needs or seeks it receives it. But for me, it’s more than a disorder- it’s now a part of my identity. I am able to write the way I do because I’ve experienced darkness. I am able to connect with other people like me because I’ve gone through the things I’ve gone through. I am able to, in some small way, be a voice for the millions of Black women who stay quiet when it comes to their mental health. My story is not my own, it is ours.<br />
<br />
That in itself is a blessing.<br />
<br />
<i>Arielle Gray is a Boston based freelance writer, graphic artist & music journalist. You can catch her stalking live shows around the city or eating Lucy's on Mass Ave.<br />
</i>For Harriethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09683917312535044896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8459894049343832940.post-24306207660564080152017-07-20T14:56:00.000-05:002017-12-16T14:37:38.147-06:00Passport to Peace of Mind: My International Egg Freezing Journey<b><img src="http://imageshack.com/a/img923/8559/Uz6sYm.jpg" width="100%" /></b><br />
<b>by Gina Loring</b><br />
<br />
<br />
As comedian Jerrod Carmichael said, women are the only minority group who are the majority. While we comprise a little over half of the population, we receive lower pay, are disproportionately less promoted in the workforce, and deeply personal choices pertaining to our bodies are determined by a room full of men. Then there’s the fact that an incompetent, unqualified misogynist is now in the White House, which speaks volumes about how far male privilege can take you. And don't get me started on longer bathroom lines, mansplaining, and uncomfortable, if not painful, high heels. As if the many layers of a patriarchal society weren't enough, women have yet another disadvantage that becomes glaringly prominent with each passing birthday: fertility.<br />
<br />
Throughout my dating career, with each dissolved relationship, my dream for a family felt further and further away. Looking back on my twenties, and now with the majority of my thirties behind me, I've watched my progression from hopelessly romantic, to prayerfully resilient, to low key panic.<br />
<br />
As much as I've always wanted kids, initially I was not open to the idea of freezing my eggs. I associated it with desperation, resignation, and lack of faith. Coupled with the outrageously high cost, it just didn't seem like something I would ever do. I also felt a level of embarrassment or shame around it, as if it would be an admittance of failure. "Welp, it didn't happen for me, so here I am."<br />
<br />
But with my desire for a family getting stronger every year, and my maternal instincts on high, I decided to do some research.<br />
<br />
After a few days of some focused googling, I discovered there are countries in Europe where fertility treatment costs three to four times less than in the US. Between the hormones, the procedure itself, and fees for storing your eggs once they're frozen, the whole ordeal can cost over $20,000 here in the states. That means you either have to be in a high income bracket or willing to go into debt. I was neither. However, after some serious searching, I found the perfect clinic for me. It was professional, clean, contemporary, and reasonably priced. When I contacted them, everyone was helpful and friendly, not to mention patient with my myriad questions.<br />
<br />
So I went to the Czech Republic to freeze my eggs.<br />
<br />
It wasn't a decision I broadcasted, but of the few I discussed it with, there were mixed responses. Some were instantly excited and supportive, some were concerned about me traveling so far alone, and some saw it as a biologically unnatural and emotionally fear-based move (or at least that is my interpretation of what was expressed).<br />
<br />
As a poet/vocalist, I've traveled internationally extensively, and usually solo, so I wasn't intimidated by the travel factor. And with the exception of the hormones to stimulate multiple egg production, it's a relatively painless and risk-free procedure. It wasn't the injections I minded so much as the headaches, nausea and sore breasts, but a few days of slight discomfort is well worth looking into my baby's eyes one day.<br />
<br />
To be clear, I am one who believes in divine order and fully recognizes the beauty in surrendering to faith over fear. I also believe the universe responds to energy. In other words, passivity about something deeply important sends a mixed message, which often results in either stagnation or compromised results. Many women who don’t want children, or who already have children (especially if they had them young) don't truly comprehend the heart-wrenching ache and almost debilitating sense of urgency we feel on this side of the fence, just as we don't truly understand the exhaustion of functioning on two hours of sleep with a baby who won't stop crying. I'm a private person as it is, but after I was unpleasantly surprised by one or two underwhelming responses, I decided to limit discussing such a sacred and personal life decision until after the deed was done.<br />
<br />
I have been praying for a family my entire adult life (and my adolescence for that matter, as the only child of a single mother), but I didn't feel a sense of peace about it until I decided to stop waiting (and waiting, and waiting, and waiting) for the "one" and started being proactive. Ultimately, we are responsible for our own lives, and I realized it's not a sign of failure, but a brave and self-empowered choice. It is a leveling of the playing field, so to speak. I always found it highly unfair that men have the luxury of procreating at any age, and many feel little-to-no pressure to start a family until they're in their forties. While we're still light years away from gender equality, at least modern medicine has created a way to balance the scales biologically, and I, for one, am infinitely grateful.<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
My experience in the Czech Republic couldn’t have been better. From the clinic, to the hotel, to strangers on the bus, everyone was friendly and helpful. The doctors and nursing staff at the clinic were professional and kind, and made me feel well taken care of. The procedure had a quick recovery time, and I even had an extra day to do a little sightseeing around the beautiful city of Prague before flying home.<br />
<br />
Taking this step has given me the invaluable gift of options. When I find myself in a committed relationship with someone I want to have children with, my first choice would be a natural conception. But if that doesn't happen easily on it's own, it would just be a matter of traveling to the clinic together. The eggs can also be sent here, but with prices as they are, traveling overseas and back would actually cost less than staying here, even including a stop in Italy or Paris for a romantic vacay along the way. The process of implanting one of my eggs as an embryo (after his sperm does its part, of course) is relatively simple, painless, and again, much more affordable in the Czech Republic. In the event that my partner is a woman, it would be as simple as finding a willing male friend to father the child (or children) and undergoing the same process. And while my intention is to raise a family within the context of a healthy relationship, if I find myself on my own, I can explore the possibility of a donor. Either way, no part of the story looks like me, postmenopausal, crying over a glass of Chardonnay wishing I had made different choices when I still had them.<br />
<br />
This experience has been a transformative rites of passage in that I feel self empowered and liberated from the victim narrative so many in my position feel. It has lightened the load of resentment and/or remorse about past relationships I had hoped would work out, and relieved some of the societal and self inflicted pressure for my life to look a specific way by a certain age. It takes the sting out of the baby pictures on my social media feeds (especially posted by exes) or attending yet another wedding or baby shower, which used to trigger self judgement and possibly a few tears on the ride home.<br />
<br />
Deciding to take the wheel and freeze my eggs bought me some time, and moreover, peace of mind. It is something I knew I would not regret doing, but conversely, could absolutely regret not doing. It was an action of solidarity from my present self to my future self, and a clear and loving invitation to my unborn babies: I'm ready when you are. It also made me honor and appreciate the capabilities of my body in a way I never have before. While I would like to become a mother sooner rather than later, for the present moment, I can take a deep breath and relax, knowing if and when I need it, part of my future is safely stored in a lovely clinic just a flight away.<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>Gina Loring holds a BA from Spelman College and an MFA from Antioch University Los Angeles. She was featured on two seasons of HBO's Def Poetry, and has performed her music and poetry in over ten countries as guest artist of the American Embassy. Contact her at: <a href="http://www.ginaloring.com/">www.ginaloring.com</a>. IG:@ginastarlight Twitter:@theginaloring</i>For Harriethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09683917312535044896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8459894049343832940.post-90673141543368497242017-07-17T14:56:00.000-05:002017-07-17T16:10:24.957-05:00Blac Chyna: A Black Female Pedestal for White Female Supremacy<div><img alt=" photo blac-chyna-a63bda64-8207-42bd-98de-651d10c3e752_zpsiz75pega.jpg" border="0" src="http://imageshack.com/a/img922/876/P0TCiC.jpg" width="100%" /></div><b>by Catherine Saunders</b><br />
<br />
Angela White, the public figure known to many as Blac Chyna, has maintained a consistent place in contemporary media because of her relationship with Robert “Rob” Kardashian Jr..<br />
<br />
Kardashian, unlike his famous family, has spent much of the last few years out of the limelight. Kardashian has become somewhat of a recluse after gaining a significant amount of weight and appearing far less confident than supporters of the franchise recall from his early days in the spotlight.<br />
<br />
Rob’s return to the spotlight could not have been more dramatic. Last year, he emerged from his sisters’ shadow with the former lover of his little sister’s then boyfriend, Black Chyna, on his arm.<br />
<br />
Their drama appeared made for television, and it was. The drama fueled more wealth and attention to the Kardashian brand via a Keeping up with the Kardashians spinoff, <i>Rob & Chyna</i>.<br />
<br />
Now the very public breakup of the couple few were rooting for in the first place has the contemporary media in a frenzy. The responses, are predictably damning for Chyna, labeling her a money-hungry whore who alienated Kardashian after getting what she wanted—his child and the glory of birthing the sole Kardashian grandchild to bear the family name.<br />
<br />
My question for all those critical of Chyna is the following:<br />
<br />
What makes Chyna different from the Kardashian women?<br />
<center><script async="" src="//pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js"></script><span id="goog_498525336"> <!-- Large --> <ins class="adsbygoogle" data-ad-client="ca-pub-9450107725766363" data-ad-slot="6852641998" style="display: inline-block; height: 280px; width: 336px;"></ins> <script>
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</script></span></center>The comparison between Chyna and former friend Kim is obvious. Kim, a woman who became a public figure when her private moments surfaced online over a decade ago, is the white version of Chyna. Both women have ample derrieres, full bosoms, long hair, and long eyelashes—aiming to capture a universal beauty with multicultural attributes. Yet, despite their appropriation of black beauty to season conventional western attributes, both Chyna and Kim desire to attain white female supremacy.<br />
<br />
While the similarity between Chyna and the most popular Kardashian sister may be conspicuous, less overt is the comparison between Chyna and the Kardashian matriarch Kris Jenner. Now, the author notes that Jenner and the elder Robert Kardashian were married for a decade before her indiscretion.<br />
<br />
The author also notes that to many Jenner loved her first husband, contrary to how most conceptualize Chyna’s sentiments towards the younger Kardashian. This post however, solely gages the similarity of women who endure romantic relationships with conventionally successful men. The attribute of conventional success makes it difficult to measure the motives of any party involved, but the connotation that accompanies black bodies leads many to label Chyna what they would hesitate to label a white woman.<br />
<br />
Marriage does mean something, but white women have always been granted a legitimacy withheld from the black female body. This illegitimacy also functions as it did during slavery, to the detriment of the black woman not the white man who planted her seed in her womb without the conjugal sanctity of marriage. Furthermore, Chyna exhibits similar behavior to the Kardashian matriarch in a dissolved loyalty for a man who funded her lavish lifestyle. These actions, while similar, stem from vastly different motives.<br />
<br />
The motive for the Kardashians sexuality is dominance. Black female sexuality, on the other hand, is a matter of life and death. Chyna’s actions function as a means to overcome racists an sexist conflicts. Her attempts however are thwarted by white ex-lover Robert Kardashian who desecrates the temple she so desperately worked to deify, by airing her dirty laundry and genitalia for the world to cast their eyes and criticism.<br />
<br />
The black female body, of course, is innately sexualized by the white male gaze. Whether an academic, astronaut, cook, dentist, doctor, or lawyer the black female is a presumably hyper sexual agent. As bell hooks says in Ain’t I a Woman, “Baby, you could be Jesus in drag—but if you’re brown they’re sure you’re selling” (hooks 58)!<br />
<br />
So despite the distance many black women maintain from Blac Chyna and her behavior, to the western gaze, Blac Chyna is the black woman in her fullest and most raw form.<br />
<br />
The most prevalent difference between Chyna and the Kardashians is of course race.<br />
Yet coverage corresponding to the Rob and Chyna drama deflects from race, and uses the black female plight to consummate womanhood to push the feminist agenda—an agenda that will solely benefit white women. To clarify, feminism despite what modifying adjective precedes the term is for those solely marginalized by gender. To the being who stands at the intersectionality of race and gender, feminism hands you gloves in the freezing cold leaving your head, feet and torso frigid in the harsh cold air of global racism.<br />
<br />
It is the feminist agenda that paints the KKK (The Kardashian Clan) as women simply trying to survive in a male dominated world, and Chyna as a white-washed jezebel incongruent to domesticity.<br />
<br />
It is the feminist agenda that duplicates women like Blac Chyna, black females who seek to reap benefits for bearing female genitals. But as demonstrated in Rob’s actions, the black female body is inevitably destined for desecration in exposure and systemic mutilation. <br />
<br />
Turning a racist matter into a solely sexist issue is yet another attempt of the western world to push other minority issues but ignore racism. Dissolving homophobia, sexism, ageism, and capitalism causes subjugated whites to elevate but still allows for racism to foment. As bell hooks boldly asserted in Ain’t I a Woman “ Systematic devaluation of black womanhood was not simply a direct consequence of race hatred, it was a calculated method of social control” (hooks 59).<br />
<center><script async="" src="//pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js"></script><span id="goog_498525336"> <!-- Large --> <ins class="adsbygoogle" data-ad-client="ca-pub-9450107725766363" data-ad-slot="6852641998" style="display: inline-block; height: 280px; width: 336px;"></ins> <script>
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</script></span></center>Feminists maintain racist control as white female supremacists-- soliciting black female advocacy and support simultaneously steering attention away from black issues that consume those bearing the burden of both blackness and femininity.<br />
<br />
It is the western desire to maintain global supremacy through racism that allow issues like feminism and gay rights to dominate contemporary conversations regarding change without engaging the intersectionalities that exists in these factions. Blac Chyna may seem insignificant in the larger portrait of issues plaguing the black collective, but she illustrates the systemic deflection that awaits the modern black body still bruised by traditional ideologies of whiteness.<br />
<br />
To be clear, I in no way feel sorry for Blac Chyna. In fact, I do not see anything “black” about her besides her [altered] phenotype. However, whether willing or unwilling, she is a part of the black female collective and a viable tool in thwarting our progress.<br />
<br />
Moreover, may her sexual relationship and fall out with a white man who fathered her child admonish those seduced by the temptation to dilute black pain with interracial sex. May Kardashian’s white male rage prompted by seeing seeing Chyna sexually engaged with black men remind the black collective of the brutal and often fatal consequences our ancestors faced for identical actions.<br />
<br />
The KKK and their black accessories color the contemporary world with the red blood of the African holocaust, illustrating the danger of miscegenation and “keeping up” with klansmen (and women) who wear black culture as tokens of conquest.<br />
<div><br />
</div><br />
<i>Catherine is a doctoral student an the pen behind the perspective at <a href="http://whispersofawomanist.com/"><span style="color: #073763;"><b>whispersofawomanist.com</b></span></a>.</i>For Harriethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09683917312535044896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8459894049343832940.post-59643913338324260362017-07-05T09:51:00.000-05:002017-07-05T09:53:37.627-05:00Serena's Magic <div><b><img alt=" photo serenababy.jpg" border="0" src="http://i789.photobucket.com/albums/yy172/thehlmn/a71c084a-9545-4885-87ea-6b56454addd3.jpg" width="100%" /></b></div><b>by Lwando Xaso</b><br />
<br />
Beauty is fair, straight, refined, slight and dainty. Beauty is polite, non-threatening and amenable. What beauty is not, I am told, is me. This definition of beauty is manufactured ,parceled, sold and internalized by its victims. This message is commercialized for profit and by design it thrives on the destruction of women who are forced to chase a standard that is impossible to meet but will spend themselves to attain. For a time I chased it too not realizing that my autonomy and right to self- determination were under siege.<br />
<br />
I used to stand in front of the mirror in judgement of my body. I stared back at myself and all the things I could never be and desperately wished I was because I imagined life would be easier. I am a black girl, a dark, tall black girl with a pronounced butt and hips which I have hated since their arrival 23 years ago. <br />
<center><script async="" src="//pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js"></script><span id="goog_498525336"> <!-- Large --> <ins class="adsbygoogle" data-ad-client="ca-pub-9450107725766363" data-ad-slot="6852641998" style="display: inline-block; height: 280px; width: 336px;"></ins> <script>
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</script></span></center>A girl’s body is highly contested ground and the site of a struggle for domination. Insecure women are the easiest to dominate and to exploit. Because the standard of beauty is imported from the west, guess who is dominated and exploited the most? Black women. Women like myself whose hair is not “good”, whose eyes are not light brown, whose skin is not caramel and whose hips will never be narrow. Black women who feel invisible because the object of the hero’s affection never looks like them. Black women who have grown accustomed to not being seen and so they assume their place at the back of the room because the spotlight was never meant for them. Black women who desperately wonder if their names will ever called, if they will ever be picked. <br />
<br />
The forces that want to pacify Black women by denying their beauty are threatened by the magic of a Black woman in full possession of herself. Serena Williams on the cover of Vanity Fair in all her Black, pregnant, naked glory is the epitome of magic. <br />
<br />
A magic that has liberated legions of Black women. A magic that has called upon Black women to assume their rightful places at the center of the room with the spotlight shining from within rather than from above. It is a magic that neither seeks or needs permission to define itself for itself. It is a magic that has told us in unequivocal terms that we are enough. A magic that has told us that only we can own ourselves and no one else. It is a magic that is unapologetic for its presence and form. A magic that has demanded and dared us all to make an unconditional pact to love ourselves as we are at this very moment. <br />
<center><script async="" src="//pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js"></script><span id="goog_498525336"> <!-- Large --> <ins class="adsbygoogle" data-ad-client="ca-pub-9450107725766363" data-ad-slot="6852641998" style="display: inline-block; height: 280px; width: 336px;"></ins> <script>
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</script></span></center>We are magic because despite the war that has been waged against us, we are still here and we dare to shine. Serena, in just being herself, has reclaimed what beauty means and ignited a revolution. This Black woman has turned the world on its head and now we live on our terms. <br />
<br />
<i>Lwando Xaso is an attorney fron Johannesburg, South Africa.</i>For Harriethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09683917312535044896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8459894049343832940.post-22093701269522471872017-06-18T12:58:00.000-05:002017-06-19T09:49:27.960-05:00I Am Not A Daddy's Girl: A Story of Healing and Reconciliation<div><img alt=" photo Createherstock Bohemian Feels Isha Gaines 7.jpeg" border="0" src="http://i789.photobucket.com/albums/yy172/thehlmn/Createherstock%20Bohemian%20Feels%20Isha%20Gaines%207.jpeg" width="100%" /></div><b>by Leslie Marant</b><br />
<br />
I spent the weekend of June 3, 2017 celebrating my father’s 80th birthday at the Capital Jazz Festival in Columbia, Maryland. My sisters and I decided that this was the perfect gift for our jazz loving father. As the only one of his children to get bit with the jazz bug, I happily agreed to escort him. I kept my sisters and followers abreast of our Capital Jazz activities via Facebook postings. People enjoyed the postings and looked forward to our trip updates. I saw several comments saying things like, “I love to see great daddy-daughter relationships,” “awwww, you’re a daddy’s girl,” and “best daughter.” <br />
<br />
But I am not a daddy’s girl and never have been. What I am is someone who learned to make peace with my father and with our fractured past. What I have become is someone who is purposeful in my intentions to heal, recover, learn, grow and love. As a result reconciliation became possible.<br />
<br />
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I won't share all of the details of my childhood or dishonor my father by laying out his misdeeds. Suffice it to say that some of his actions were incredibly harmful to my mother, siblings, and me. It was pretty traumatic stuff. After my parents divorced in my early teens I was estranged from my father for many years. I was cool with it, or so I believed. My mother never spoke a word against him. I spoke them for her. Based on my father's troubled relationship with his parents we didn't grow up knowing and visiting my paternal grandparents. He held onto his own hurts and history and stated that it did not matter if we knew them. His inability to cope with the disappointments of his childhood carried over into adulthood. Long story short, shit rolls downhill and he created a family he was emotionally unprepared to love well. But he loved us nevertheless. He worked hard for us. He sacrificed for us. He fought for us. Those things are as important as his errors.<br />
<br />
It took me years to be able to view my dad objectively. When someone harms us it's natural to avoid delving into what happened to them and examining the reasons for their behavior. All we want to care about is the harm they've done to us. We want them to own it, acknowledge it, apologize for it, and rectify it if they can. That ain't my daddy. He’s not built like that. His hurts ran too deep and he's nurtured them for too long. He feeds them and what we feed lives and grows. Consequently the forgiveness that I was taught is necessary for my own deliverance and health was a long time coming. It was a process. It took years. It required therapy.<br />
<br />
I was estranged from my father from my mid-teens through my early adulthood. When my ex-husband said he wanted to speak with my father about our engagement I replied, "for what? Nope and dialogue with my father about my mother, my parent's marriage, and women is off the table." I did not trust my father’s distorted version of the truth nor his view of women. I did not want my fiancé poisoned with my father’s bitterness and skepticism.<br />
<br />
But when my eldest child was born I knew it was important for my children to know my dad. I had begrudging awareness that he contributed more to my life than harm. My kids deserved the good, albeit crazy, parts of my father. They deserved a grandpop. I'd forgiven enough to allow him to have a relationship with his grandchildren. As their mother I decided that I had the ability to simply cut him back out of my life if I did not like the way he interacted with me or my family. You see I was an adult and he was not going to harm me or mine ever again. If he even dreamed about I would invite him to the door.<br />
<br />
I believe years of being enstranged from his children did something to my father. I suspect he did some self-examination, but only a little. So when he came around my sisters and I for family functions he was clearly very grateful to be invited. He was happy. He loved up on the babies. My father allowed his grandchildren to get away with stuff that would have put us in fear of our lives. Once he was at my house when my eldest was a toddler and I tapped her hands about something. "Pooh, don't beat the baby." Say what? Who is this person and what have you done with my father?” I couldn't believe it.<br />
<br />
Nevertheless he became quite the loving grandpop. Just as he did when he was raising us, if the kids expressed an interest in anything he would mail an article, CD, cassette tape or anything else he could get his hands on about it. He took them on trips to museums, the theater, plays, and musical performances. He was and is a great grandpop.<br />
<br />
But I guess that somewhere in the back of my mind I was not fully done with my own troubled past with my dad. I hosted most of the family events. He was always invited and came. But in small ways I made sure that he was not the boss of me. I made sure that I was in control of the relationship, that I would never respond to him like a little girl anymore,and would never be afraid of him again. It wasn't until my ex-husband once said, "y'all don't make your father a plate. Somebody make his plate." Man you make it, daddy should be happy to be here! Perhaps that was when I realized that I was not quite as finished with this forgiveness thing as I thought because I was thinking, "he's here. He's around. This is for the kids. This is good enough and better than I ever thought it would be possible. But Daddy can make his own plate."<br />
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The kids grew up, I went through my own divorce, and went to therapy to get through that mess. If we have good therapists we can learn all about ourselves, the reasons we do the things we do, think the way we do, react and respond the way we do. A good therapist will guide us as we revisit some hurts and pains that are the source of the baggage we bring to the relationships we create in adulthood. We can find peace through the process. I have a very good therapist. Ouch!<br />
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My therapist and I wrestled with my past for a long time. As a result I began to develop more compassion and empathy for my dad. I don't condone his actions. I simply understand them now. That understanding allowed me to move from "my father is in my life here for relatable ancestry for my children" to "you're welcome in my life, Daddy."<br />
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It has not always been peaches and roses even after reconciliation. My dad is 80. He's stubborn. He's lived alone for more than 40 years and is unaware of how he can sometimes be self-centered. Both of my parents are elderly and need/needed care. Because of our lengthy estrangement my father is not at the top of my mind all of the time. I check on my mom almost daily because she just holds that kind of priority in my life. I have to remind myself to check on my dad. It's not willful or conscious neglect. It's more, "oh shoot, I haven’t talked to Dad, did anybody talk to Dad or check in on him?" There are consequences to the way we build relationships. Having to remind myself to check in on my dad is one of those consequences.<br />
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We likely almost lost him last year. He was very sick. It was just natural for me to jump in and take care of his needs. However, after getting him situated back home he made a statement that -and I can't stand this word - "triggered" me and took me right back to a childhood reaction to trauma. Like a legitimate trigger. I was almost done with him. But I've done a lot of work in therapy. I intend to be the best version of me I can be and I intend for my relationships with people to be healthy or I won’t endure them. After I blocked my father’s calls and he sent numerous messages through my sisters I finally agreed to talk to him. My thoughts were "I know I didn't just finish taking days off work to care for him and get his house straight and he said that to me? Naw dude. I'm good on you." But we met and after I “gave him the business” as he claims and established the boundaries regarding what he could never say to me again we were fine.<br />
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I did not consider it giving him the business. I simply told him how I felt about all of his transgressions, how they impacted me as a child, and how they impacted me as an adult. It wasn’t emotional or abusive. It wasn’t loud. It was just me telling him things I needed to say. It was letting go. He attempted to intervene and defend. I did not allow that. Thus the “giving him the business.” It is hard to hear someone else's version of the harm we inflicted and the damage it caused. It's hard to hear what someone thinks of our worst selves. It's hard to hear some of what our children think of us. But that's what I told him and I laid down some rules for future engagement. He did not like some of it. He disagreed with some of it. He apologized for none of it. But I was not there for his apologies. I no longer need them. No invisible weight was lifted. There was no relief. I had my say and that was that. My therapist said, "then you're really done with the past. That's good. You weren't challenged with the consequences of your decision. You're fine and in a good space with your relationship with your father."<br />
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So we went to the Capital Jazz Festival together and had an absolute blast! We tapped fingers and toes. He stayed up later than I did for the late night jam session. I waited in line for 90 blazing minutes to get his platter of food. I employed my powers of persuasiveness to get him a better seat. He blocked my potential dating activity because it’s hard to be single and mingle when your 80 year old father is attached at the hip, lol! But we had fun. We created memories for both of us that will last. Whenever he passes, not too soon please Creator, it will be well with my soul. <br />
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I guess I say all of this to remind us that no one is all villain nor hero. We are who we are. We are human. I'm not the best daughter in the world. I'm not the worst. He’s not the best father. He’s not the worst. But I love my Dad as he loves me, flaws and all. Years ago a friend said, "we are the victims of our parent's mistakes and the beneficiaries of their blessings." Indeed. I am grateful to have shared this time and experience with him. I'm grateful to be able to bring him some happiness. I am grateful for the opportunity to reconcile and the willingness on both of our parts to do so. I am grateful.<div><br />
</div><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>Photo: CreateHerStock</i></span><br />
<div><br />
</div><div><div><i>Leslie Marant is an attorney, certified personal trainer and running coach, and wellness advocate. She is also a health ambassador for Philadelphia's Get Healthy Philly - Philly Powered campaign. She believes wellness is about more than diet and exercise, but also requires the well-being of our minds, bodies, and spirits.</i></div></div>For Harriethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09683917312535044896noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8459894049343832940.post-82718976673095243742017-06-17T17:12:00.000-05:002017-08-11T11:49:37.401-05:00What Does Sexual Liberation Look Like?<div><b><img alt=" photo amberrosenaked.png" border="0" src="http://i789.photobucket.com/albums/yy172/thehlmn/amberrosenaked.png" width="100%" /></b></div><b>by Kimberly Foster (@<a href="http://twitter.com/kimberlynfoster" target="_blank"><span style="color: #20124d;">KimberlyNFoster</span></a>)</b><br />
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There’s no doubt in my mind that social media has changed mainstream feminism for the better. These platforms produce new converts by introducing them to feminist discourse via the real-time theorizing that takes place everyday. <br />
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As a result, an easily accessible, Black woman-led feminism has become both highly visible and highly profitable. <br />
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Neither of these things is as perilous for the future of the movement as those who long for the radicalism of the Second Wave <a href="http://amzn.to/2sgWtkD" target="_blank"><span style="color: #20124d;"><b>might argue</b></span></a>. <br />
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We can certainly survive as a <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Big_tent" target="_blank"><span style="color: #20124d;"><b>big tent</b></span></a>. But if this is where we’re going, contemporary feminists should be asking the right questions. <br />
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Something I’ve been thinking through for months cropped up for me again when Amber Rose tweeted a semi-nude image of herself. Besides the pubic hair, it’s no different from the countless images of women one encounters on Instagram (Read: Gorgeous.) In fact, I’d have little to say about the picture if not for the political goals Rose assigned to it. <br />
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This isn’t just an eye-catching picture shared by a stunningly beautiful woman The model-turned-activist put up this “fire ass feminist post” (her words) to promote her upcoming SlutWalk which “aims to impact and uplift, while shifting the paradigm of rape culture.” <br />
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The question I keep coming back to is what does it mean that the images we create to fight patriarchy look exactly like the images patriarchy produces?<br />
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This, for me, prompts a far more compelling discussion than the more obvious and widespread should feminists take off our clothes in public? <br />
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The first question compels us to think not only of the pleasure a feminist action brings but its efficacy in a political project which aims to eradicate imperialist white supremacist capitalist patriarchy.<br />
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When a woman who is conventionally attractive elevates a highly stylized, perfectly posed, meticulously airbrushed image as a “feminist” one, I worry we’ve settled into a feminism that seeks to get more comfortable inside of the limiting paradigm for acceptable displays of women’s sexuality rather than upend it. <br />
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Amber Rose chooses to revel in the male gaze and its construction of women’s idealized bodies. Though that place might be a freeing one for her, personally, servicing a standard set by institutionalized sexism—one real life Amber, herself, <a href="http://okmagazine.com/photos/amber-rose-photoshop-controversy-did-she-alter-her-instagram-bikini-photos/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #20124d;"><b>doesn’t meet</b></span></a>—fails to critically intervene in a visual culture that robs women of the opportunity to be honest about our bodies and sexual desires. Consequently, I’m deeply uncomfortable with labeling every image a feminist produces “feminist.”<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">*****</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><center><script async="" src="//pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js"></script><span id="goog_498525336"> <!-- Large --> <ins class="adsbygoogle" data-ad-client="ca-pub-9450107725766363" data-ad-slot="6852641998" style="display: inline-block; height: 280px; width: 336px;"></ins> <script>
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</script></span></center>To be clear, I don’t advocate pushing women who are not revolutionary in orientation out of feminism because, frankly, I wouldn’t pass any tests of political purity. <br />
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Popular feminists like Beyoncé and Amber Rose (whose race I’m utterly uninterested in debating) are important to many Black women because we have so few prisms through which to interpret our experiences with sexism and racism without sacrificing joy or pleasure.<br />
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But it is possible to welcome women with complicated lives and messy politics while holding close to the belief that feminism is necessarily transformative, both personally and structurally. <br />
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I interrogate what a feminist image looks like not because Amber doesn’t look great or because she doesn’t deserve the opportunity to delight in the beauty of her unclothed body, but because these kinds of images are the product of the very limited visual vocabulary we have for what a “sexy,” “desirable” woman looks like: she is oiled up, made up, perfectly proportioned and cellulite-free. <br />
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Images matter. They’re used to guide behavior and set social expectations. And here it’s instructive to consider their use and origin. <br />
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Would this be the ideal women would come up with had we not been socialized into a world dominated by straight men’s preferences? Even images that are not created for men draw from the Western aesthetic norms men devised.<br />
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Neither nudity or public expressions of sexuality are inherently problematic. Women can be naked and free, but in an effort to normalize women’s ownership of our nude bodies, feminists are inclined to overstate the case. The act of public display, in and of itself, is not transgressive. <br />
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Women’s bodies are everywhere in our hypersexualized culture; thus, shiny, perfect, polished nudity is not revolutionary. It’s practically compulsory (<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=57EW8AElyVU" target="_blank"><b><span style="color: #20124d;">Tricia Rose’s work on this is an invaluable resource</span></b></a>). That's what we've come to expect from our mass media images, and now that's what we create. <br />
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Because of that reality, I don’t fault Amber Rose. If you’re branding yourself, even in the name of feminism, I understand why you’d create the kind of image that appeals to the culture, the type of image that’s been proven time and again to be profitable, both monetarily and in the attention economy. <br />
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A lack of imagination in visioning what liberated sexuality for non-male bodies looks like is incentivized by a market that's ripe for what Rose, and any other conventionally beautiful woman, is selling. <br />
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In refusing to interrogate the kinds of sexualized images that are ubiquitous in our culture, feminist efforts to broaden our conversations about women’s sexualities end up celebrating a woman’s ability to be appealing within a set of scripts we’ve little control over. Yes, these images allow some of us, particularly, those whose bodies are deemed “acceptable,” to have more freedom. But are they transformative? <br />
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Aspirational Feminism replaces an unattainable ideal given to us by men with one given to us by women. <br />
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The women who partake in it argue the power is in the reclamation of the violating image, but how can this reclamation of the body in constrained space be working if the women who most benefit from it are the same ones who reap the most rewards in white supremacist patriarchy? <br />
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Contemporary declarations of “choice” routinely ignore how women with darker skin, fat bodies or bodies that are not hour-glass shaped are ridiculed in sex and body positivity. Progressive acceptance of bodies not marked most attractive is still conditional. <br />
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For feminists, a fundamental shift away from this must be a priority.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>******</b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</script></span></center><blockquote><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="color: #666666; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The master’s tools will never dismantle the master’s house. They may allow us to temporarily beat him at his own game, but they will never enable us to bring about genuine change. - Audre Lorde</span></i></div></blockquote><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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A sex positivity rooted in individualism takes up so much space in our current feminist conversations because it allows us to believe our choices are unburdened by the social norms or expectations laid out before us. <br />
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That’s simply not true. And we’re now trying to build a liberatory landscape for women’s bodily autonomy on top of sexism’s toxic ground. It will succeed only in reproducing the hierarchies we’ve tried to evade.<br />
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We are not searching simply for the right to choose but the ability to choose outside of circumscribed ideals. <br />
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New norms will be established only by engaging meaningfully with the images we produce and consume. We can do that while refusing to condemn or shame women like Amber Rose who find the current paradigm empowering. <br />
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Their efforts are not wholly fruitless. Carving out space for Black women to discuss and be seen in our desires is a crucial first step in untethering the erotic pleasure of Black women. But that cannot be our endpoint. What else is there? <br />
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Fundamentally, feminist work is world-building. We’re not going to be able to carefully rearrange our way to revolution. We should not be so wary of casting value judgements that we attempt to shoehorn the problematic into our politics to as not to deal with our own contradictions. Our fun doesn’t have to be feminist.<br />
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I question contemporary feminism’s glossy image not to shame or stigmatize. If we embrace the hard work of self-reflection and deconstruction, instead of hammering away at patriarchy’s tiny cracks in the hope of seeing slivers of light, we can begin to break open holes big enough for us all to climb through.<br />
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<i>Kimberly Foster is the founder and editor-in-chief of For Harriet. <script>!function(d,s,id){var js,fjs=d.getElementsByTagName(s)[0];if(!d.getElementById(id)){js=d.createElement(s);js.id=id;js.src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js";fjs.parentNode.insertBefore(js,fjs);}}(document,"script","twitter-wjs");</script></i>For Harriethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09683917312535044896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8459894049343832940.post-21375446373891786612017-06-07T15:06:00.000-05:002017-06-08T09:51:13.140-05:00Why We Sometimes Need to Unplug From Our Friends<div><img alt=" photo iStock-490487696.jpg" border="0" src="http://i789.photobucket.com/albums/yy172/thehlmn/iStock-490487696.jpg" width="100%" /></div><b>by Mariah Williams</b><br />
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I am sure that most of us can scroll through our phones and pull up a group chat we are a part of with our closest friends, family members or even co-workers. I am all for a good group chat with girlfriends. In fact, sometimes I don’t know how I’d get through a day without them. They supply me will countless moments of laughter, endless memes to save for a rainy day and the sisterhood and camaraderie that I so often crave and require in my life. <br />
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Like most 25 year olds, I am still trying to figure it all out. Life. Love. Money. Career. Family. Myself. On most days, it is refreshing to speak with my friends in a chat around similar topics. Any sharing of a news article or Instagram post can spark a 2-hour round robin between all of us. <br />
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“200 messages??” I think as I look at my phone after putting it down for just 30 minutes. <br />
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But, admittedly, there was a point in time where I just could not indulge in the conversation. Where it became too much. Instead, I’d see a string of text messages about how a girl looked on IG or a long thread of a friend giving relationship advice or summoning it and it all became too much information to take in. Not because I did not care about what was going on in my friends’ lives or about how an article made them feel, but the constant picking a part of something was more than I could handle. Someone would post their philosophies about men and relationships and I found that their comments made me anxious about my own. While the intent of this messaging space was certainly to be uplifting and supportive, it sometimes felt like the blind leading the blind in many ways, the spewing of thoughts and ideas we assumed made us “strong and impenetrable” black women, when in fact, we were all trying to figure it out. <br />
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Most of us were around the same age, had varying life experiences and wanted similar but different things out of life for the most part. But somehow, when the conversations began, our varying perspectives often got lumped into one category and fused into one way of thinking about the world. Again, not because we intended for them to. In our efforts to support and reaffirm each other’s thoughts and ways of being, it seemed like we forgot that we in fact didn’t really know how we were supposed to exist or be, in ourselves, in relationships, in life. Not yet. <br />
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I’d find myself second-guessing my own thoughts and philosophies on certain issues and becoming anxious about the way I was living, the choices I made or did not make with my partner. And it became exhausting, and perhaps the fact that these conversations began to exhaust me suggested that I had things I was working through. And this in fact was true. However, I think it also highlights the danger in sharing everything with people. <br />
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So I left the group. At first I thought it would only be for a day or two. But then it turned into weeks. At first I missed chatting with many of my friends who lived far away in this group setting, but I realized how much time I had spent in my head during and after our conversations (and how unproductive it made me at work). I realized that taking a step back, in the same way one steps back from work or a relationship, was what I needed to focus on myself and to develop and reaffirm my own thoughts, paths and relationships. <br />
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In an age where we are constantly plugged in and connected to others, there is a pressure to divulge everything. Group chats with our closest friends can certainly be a sacred and much needed space and the easiest way to stay in touch. I promote and love these spaces. But I also value time to embrace and live my own life, without the constant picking a part of one’s choices. It is okay to say, “not today” or “okay, you ladies are going on mute today” and to control what our eyes and minds absorb. And our friends, our sisters, shouldn’t take it personally. It’s simply another act of self-care and self-love. I think it is okay to acknowledge that we are sometimes fragile and impressionable beings, and that as much as we try to convince ourselves that other people’s opinions of our lives don’t matter, they sometimes do. As I continue to work through my own life, insecurities, hopes and desires, I recognize the need to unplug and not feel bad about it. <br />
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<i>Mariah Williams is currently pursuing her Masters in Urban and Regional Planning at Virginia Commonwealth University. She is the founder of Black Girls Meet Up, an organization dedicated to creating spaces for the being of Black women and girls. She aspires to become an urban planner who advocates inclusive spaces and communities for people of color, specifically Black women and girls.<br />
</i>For Harriethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09683917312535044896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8459894049343832940.post-55877099985367360102017-06-05T13:20:00.000-05:002017-06-05T23:19:22.221-05:00For Call-Out Culture to Matter, We Must Be About the Business of Healing<div><img alt=" photo iStock-637409678_zpsltkb20df.jpg" border="0" src="http://i1290.photobucket.com/albums/b536/forharriet/iStock-637409678_zpsltkb20df.jpg" width="100%" /></div><b>by Briana Perry</b><br />
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Recently, I have come across several Facebook posts, tweets, and op-eds addressing call-out culture and disposability in movement work. For some, “calling out” a person for causing harm and being overly problematic is also detrimental because call-outs can take place publicly and become heated, which could be unhealthy. For others, “calling out” harm that is inflicted upon them is warranted, especially harm that is rooted in systemic oppression, as it can lead to distress and trauma. People who support “calling out” might also argue that it is unfair to tell someone how to address and process their pain. It can also be viewed as a form of tone policing. <br />
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I was once a big proponent of “calling out” the abusive and problematic statements/practices of a person (or group), especially if the practices occurred publicly. Growing up, my mama taught me to never let anyone “make a fool out of me,” so I’ve often taken the approach that if someone hurts/embarrasses me (especially publicly), then I am going to address it in the same manner (i.e. engage in a public dragging). While I am aware of the old adages “you can’t fight fire with fire” and “two wrongs don’t make a right,” there was always a sense of relief (and sometimes joy) that accompanied going off about a harmful comment and/or action that was directed toward me. And after the call out, I quickly removed the culprit from my life. If it was someone from the movement who I knew, I would abruptly cease communication. If it was just a person from the comments section, I would simply block them. <br />
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I also utilized this approach in my personal life, even before becoming involved in social justice work. If a friend or romantic partner did or said something that was painful, I would address it (publicly if necessary) and then remove them from my life. This was deeply rooted in the belief that if someone has harmed you, then that person does not need to hold space in your life. Over a month ago, I relied on this principle to remove a person from my life because of some actions that led to pain and embarrassment for me. I even provided a deadline for when the removal would take place. However, when I tried to do so, the individual said something that startled me; they shared how I am adamant about being compassionate and not wanting to be disposed of by others, but yet I was trying to dispose, which was problematic (and hypocritical). Initially after receiving this feedback, I became defensive. I felt as if the remark was a deflection and an attempt to not take accountability for the harm that had been caused. Upon further reflection and processing, I realized that I was being hypocritical, and my deadline approach was damaging. <br />
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This situation was a gateway for confronting a harsh reality; while I try hard to navigate the world without causing harm, I have in fact harmed others. I have engaged in abusive and problematic practices that have probably been shameful, hurtful, and embarrassing for some folks. Nayyirah Waheed states in one of her poems that “we have all hurt someone tremendously. whether by intent or accident.” I have come to realize that I thought because I am, for the most part, a caring and considerate person, I was exempt from this. But that is not the case. We have all harmed and inflicted pain. And this is what makes call-out culture and disposing of others complicated. Capitalism, racism, sexism, homophobia, transphobia, and ableism have taught us that certain individuals are disposable. But we are not. Even though it can be difficult to give grace and be patient in some situations, I am now reminding myself that I have made mistakes. I have wounded. <br />
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I am not suggesting that we completely do away with publicly addressing harm or pain. I do believe, especially for historically marginalized groups, that space should be created for expressing and processing an array of emotions as a result of being harmed. I also believe that there are times when people need to part ways due to toxicity, a constant denial of one’s humanity, and a lack of contribution to mutual growth.<br />
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I do hope that we consider the nuances and think more deeply about the historical pain/trauma that we, as marginalized folks, carry (that we have both inherited and experienced), how we can inflict that pain on each other, and our healing process. <br />
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In the past, I thought that I was healing with my approach and practices, but I was not. My recent situation has helped me to recognize that part of the healing process involves acknowledging and addressing how I, too, have harmed. And I don’t want to be disposed of for my shortcomings.<br />
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<i>Briana Perry is a Black feminist born, raised, and currently situated in the South. She is passionate about reproductive justice, storytelling, and investing in public schools.</i>For Harriethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09683917312535044896noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8459894049343832940.post-59750451308324247332017-06-02T08:43:00.000-05:002017-06-02T09:58:51.984-05:00Brit Bennett on Writing an Acclaimed Novel About Black Women's Complex Lives<div>
<img alt=" photo brit-bennett-interview.jpg" border="0" src="http://i789.photobucket.com/albums/yy172/thehlmn/brit-bennett-interview.jpg" width="100%" /></div>
<b>by Kimberly Foster</b><br />
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</b> <b>In her debut novel <i>The Mothers, </i>Brit Bennett writes Black women carefully. These characters are not pristine or precious. Instead, they are provided complex and compelling inner lives. </b><br />
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<b>This attention to an oft-neglected interiority makes Bennett's best-selling debut an unmissable read. </b><br />
<b><br />
</b> <b><i>The Mothers</i> became o</b><b>ne of 2016's most critically-acclaimed books and made Bennett a rising star in literary circles. She's now crafting a screenplay for a film adaptation produced by Kerry Washington.</b><br />
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I talked to the author about the politics of crafting rich, Black characters and how she's managing success.</b><br />
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*This interview has been edited for length and clarity*</div>
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<b>We're basically the same age. People ask questions about my work and my age a lot. I'm going to ask you, how does it feel to be a critically-acclaimed author and a best-selling novelist at 26?</b><br />
It feels good. It feels really good, but I think also I never necessarily wanted to, like, "Oh, I've got to publish a novel by the time I'm 25." I didn't really set out to do that. I think the stars aligned in a way for me that allowed this to happen so young. I'm grateful for it, but it's also not something that I really foresaw, or tried to make happen. <br />
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<b>I assume that you want to write more books. Do you feel any pressure moving forward? Are you even thinking of the next book?</b><br />
Yes. I started the next book. I think my book came out among a lot of hype, and I think that's exciting as a debut author because you want people to be paying attention. You want your book to be on someone's radar, and it's exciting that people were so enthusiastic about the book so early on. That was great. <br />
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There was also a way in which that becomes stressful because you worry about living up to the expectations, and all that stuff. I think I've just had to tell myself the hype exists outside of me, and there's nothing I can do to create it, and there's nothing I can do to end it if I want to. I try to just focus on what I can focus on, which is the next book.<br />
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I think at the end of the day my standards for myself will always be higher than anybody else's expectation for me. That's something I just have to put my head down, and get back to work. </div>
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</b> <b>Does writing keep you centered? </b><br />
Yes. I think I'm the type of person who has to write everyday. I haven't been able to recently with all the sort of publication stuff, but it makes me feel off when I'm not writing or if I haven't written something that day. I know that not everybody is like that, but that's just kind of my thing.<br />
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It makes me feel good to write something each day, and to feel like I've created something new that didn't exist. <br />
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<b>When did you first know that you wanted to be a writer? </b><br />
I wanted to write from when I was really little. I remember writing short stories when I was eight or nine, or whatever. I was in elementary school. I would write these short stories, and I wrote screenplays, and I wrote all these other little things through growing up, but I don't think it was something that I took seriously. I didn't really think that you could make a living as a writer. It didn't seem like a real career that you could do. It just seemed like this sort of pipe dream. <br />
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When I got to college I finally met writers, and met people who kind of mentored me and showed me there is a way that you could try to make a life as a writer. <br />
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<b>You didn't feel like writing was going to be a viable career option because you didn't see any writers in your life?</b><br />
Yes. I'd never seen that modeled for me, so to me to be a writer was as fantastical as being a movie star, or something, growing up. I think once I actually met people, and I saw the different ways that people make livings as writers, that became something that became more real to me, and it was something that I realized I felt passionate about, and I wanted to take the chance and see what happens. <br />
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<b>Do you remember the first book you fell in love with? </b><br />
Yes. I think it was <a href="http://amzn.to/2rwPcyJ" target="_blank"><span style="color: #20124d;"><b><i>The Outsiders</i></b></span></a> by S. E. Hinton. I read that book when I was probably in elementary school. A teacher gave it to me, and I remember just really loving this book about this group of friends, and tragedy strikes, and then the book just ripped my heart out, and it was something that it was the type of book that made me want to write. It could be because the author was young when she wrote that book, so I remember sort of seeing that as kind of a challenge of "Okay, let me see if I could write a novel. Let me see if I could write 200 pages, or write 300 pages." That's definitely one of the first books I remember that really wracked me emotionally, and made me want to be a writer. <br />
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<b>Your novel, <i><a href="http://amzn.to/2rL3ug5" target="_blank"><span style="color: #20124d;">The Mothers</span></a></i>, is brilliant, and I love the way that it centers Black womanhood, and the ways that Black women navigate society. It's not overbearing. It's not overwrought. I'm wondering about centering Black women's experiences. How do you make that choice? </b><br />
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I think generally I write about Black women. I did also want to write about Black masculinity in this book and think about these male characters, how they would navigate the situations everyone finds themselves in, but at the end of the day I think I am really interested in all these intersections between or among race and gender and sexuality, the way all that converges in this story about this small community. <br />
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<b>How do you approach exploring Black masculinity as a Black woman? </b><br />
I think it was something that came about later in the book. I never thought that would be the storefront of the book. I think particularly in the case of Luke, I became really interested in how this young male character would respond to this unwanted pregnancy and later this abortion. I think that's often a perspective that's missing when we talk about abortion, culturally. Originally, I think he was kind of this flat character who responds as we might assume a young man would respond, where he's just sort of relieved that he's escaped this responsibility. I think over time I realized that was pretty boring, and I wanted him to be a more complex character.<br />
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That was particularly important to me because I think often young, Black male characters are not allowed, not afforded really any complexity, or any sort of rich interior life. I wanted him to be an emotionally complex character, and I think that he's the type of character that has both entranced and frustrated people who have read the book. At least people have told me this, which I enjoy because that's how people are in real life. We're flawed. We make mistakes. We have regrets. I think he's that type of character. It was important for me. Like you're saying, I'm a woman. I have not lived this experience as a young, Black man. <br />
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I thought about men that I knew who, again, were flawed, but also have these rich lives, and are emotionally complex. I wanted to portray that. <br />
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<b>There's a really well-known adage in feminist communities, "the personal is political." I wonder if you feel like your art is political, your writing is political. </b><br />
I think it is in the sense that I'm not hesitant to engage with politics. I think to write about abortion is inherently a political decision because you're speaking about something that is a very polarizing topic, and that people do have very strong emotional reactions to. I think regardless of what happened in the book, to even write about an abortion is a political decision.<br />
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That being said, I don't think of it as a political book. I don't think of it as a book that's attempting to argue one way or another about how someone should feel about any of these issues. I don't know. I think there is a quickness with which people like to read fiction by authors of color as political, and they're hesitant to do the same for white authors. I think there's a way in which I also push back against that. To construct an all-white world is a political decision, and it's just as political as constructing a black community like I did. <br />
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That's exactly what I mean. I don't think you're explicitly making a statement about a broader politics, but I think that what you're doing by exploring the interiority of black men, exploring the inner lives of black women in a world in which that is denied us, that is a statement in and of itself.<br />
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<b>How was a book tour for you as a debut author?</b><br />
I like talking to people, and seeing people who are really excited about the book, or people who have read it, and have reactions to the book. It's fun, but it's been a whirlwind, and certainly nothing I ever expected.<br />
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<b>When people discuss their reactions to the book with you, are there any particular themes that they bring up? </b><br />
I think the surprising thing to me has been, and perhaps it shouldn't be surprising, but the two things people want to talk about the most are abortion and race. To me that's been an interesting trend. I don't know if it's going to hold up throughout all these places I'm visiting. Both readings I've done so far somebody has asked a question about abortion, and someone has asked a question about race. It's interesting to me that those are both seen as, like you were saying, these two political topics, even though in my mind their political nature is so different. One is a decision, and one is just an identity. There's a way in which those are both sort of these really tense political discussions that people have been bringing up.<br />
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They haven't been unpleasant questions, unpleasant conversations, but it's been interesting to me that those have been the two things that people want to talk about. <br />
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<b>It seems that you approach these topics unselfconsciously. Is that how it comes to you? </b><br />
I knew that this was going to be a book about this girl who gets pregnant, decides to terminate the pregnancy. For me, that was just it's a decision that millions of people make everyday. It's a decision that's politically polarizing, but it's also something that just happens. Over time I realized that was going to be the engine that drove forward the story, and it really caused a lot of ripples throughout the church community.<br />
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I worked on this book for a while, so it took a lot of twists and turns as it developed. I grew a little bit, and the story became a lot bigger and more expansive than I originally imagined. I had a few things I knew I wanted to explore walking into it, and I knew one of those things was going to be that this abortion happens and causes an upheaval in this church. <br />
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<b>Let's talk about religion a little bit. What role has religion played in your life? </b><br />
I grew up in the church. I grew up going both to Catholic Church, and to sort of like a black Protestant non-denominational church. That was a very normal part of my upbringing. My parents are fairly religious. I think I was always just interested in those types of communities.<br />
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The next project I'm working on is not about a church, necessarily, but it engages with Black Catholicism. My mom is a Black Catholic, and I think that is something that surprises people often. She's from Louisiana, so it's not unusual there, but I think a lot of people are just like "Black Catholics? What is that?"<br />
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I'm always interested in these communities and how people are brought together by their beliefs and how they're also split apart by their beliefs. I'm always very interested in the nature of belief and the nature of doubt and how that manifests and how the church communities can be such sources of support and love, but can also often be so oppressive, and so judgmental. <br />
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<b>In this book, what are you exploring about the relationship between religion and sexuality, about women's bodily autonomy? </b><br />
That's a good question. I don't know. I think I'm just generally sort of interested in the ways in which the degree to which women have power within religion. I think particularly within the Black church it's particularly interesting because, at least in my experiences, Black women do so much of the labor that really upholds the church, whether ...<br />
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<b>That's not just your experience.</b><br />
Right. I'm always hesitant to generalize, but I feel like that's probably, generally, true. The idea of doing the sort of unseen labor. The idea of Black women doing so much labor that really makes the church run but often not having any of the actual institutional power. It's just this idea of Black women doing a lot of the unseen labor that really sustains churches, and often being silenced or disparaged, or controlled through religion.<br />
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I think that the book follows this character who makes this decision that she knows will be seen as bad and shameful within her community, and that causes her to keep it as a huge secret through these years, and that secret ends up having huge ramifications for her life. And not only her life but the church itself. I think I really liked the idea of thinking about power in that way, and I think that's what the church mothers I think do also because they are characters who don't, again, do not have institutional power, but because they are the storytellers they are the ones who are gossiping, and sort of spreading the news of the church they actually have a huge amount of power. I like that tension. I wanted to explore that in the book. <br />
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<b>What type of messaging did you get around sex and sexuality? How was that in your religious experience?</b><br />
I always felt like there was a huge sort of divide between the spirit and the body, and the idea that the flesh is sinful was something that I grew up hearing in a sort of abstract sense. In a very concrete sense, it was: premarital sex is bad, homosexuality is bad. There wasn't a lot of conversation about abortion, but I vaguely knew that it was a sort of evil thing you shouldn't do.<br />
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I had a lot of fear about sexuality as a kid, and I was always very worried that I could make a mistake and end up pregnant. Then what would I do? I wanted to go to college and wanted to do all these different things, and I felt like that was the thing that could really ruin me. I had a lot of fear and anxiety about that, that I grew up hearing in the church.<br />
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I don't know. I think this idea of separating the spirit and the body is something that I'm constantly thinking about the implications of that, and how that belief effects how you feel about yourself, and how you feel about your relationships and everything. That, again, has these huge wide ranging ramifications.<br />
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<b>Does writing a novel like this, working through it, help you process some of the messaging that you were taught?</b><br />
I think now that I'm a little bit older and I can think back on my adolescence and teen years and the things I was afraid of then and the ways I thought of relationships then–I thought of relationships as being these really fraught things. It's not just fun and games or "I like this person." It's like "Oh, but if you're not careful this relationship could ruin your future." <br />
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In the book, thinking about this character whose mother got pregnant at a young age and had her, she also has the weight of that history sort of bearing in on her–this idea that she is supposed to do better than her mother did.<br />
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She's not supposed to repeat the same mistakes, but she finds herself in the situation where she also gets pregnant at a young age and makes a different decision. I think working on the novel did allow me to revisit some of the things I learned or heard growing up and start to challenge them a little bit more, I think. <br />
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<b>You mentioned the theme of intergenerational trauma. What do you think this book highlights about that theme, about that idea? </b><br />
I think there are things we inherit from parents and grandparents that sometimes we're aware of it and sometimes we're not aware of. I think sometimes we reject that inheritance, and sometimes we welcome it.<br />
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I was interested in the way that the main female characters, Nadia and Aubrey, they both are missing mothers through very different circumstances. The ways in which they lose their mothers effects not only how they feel about being daughters, but also how they feel about being mothers someday.<br />
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Nadia in the wake of losing her mom finds herself pregnant, and she's not only not in any position to raise a child, but she's just lost her mother. She's looking for a mother, she's not looking to be somebody's mother. <br />
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Aubrey, on the other hand, is abandoned by her mother, and not protected by her mother. The way she feels about motherhood is very complicated by that. I think a lot of the book is about the intergenerational trauma, but also just intergenerational communication, and miscommunication. I think there are ways in which generations fail to understand each other, and talk past each other, or talk at each other. That's something that I always observed growing up, this failure to actually communicate among generations. That was something that I also wanted to think about for the book. <br />
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<b>You said that there's a lot of talk about race surrounding this book. Do you think that's a byproduct of the current cultural moment? </b><br />
I think it's that. I think it's also some people who have read my nonfiction, which is very explicitly about race. I think they want to read those things in conversation with each other. I'm sure there are some connections, there's some overlaps. I think I set out to do something in fiction that's not necessarily the same that I set out to do in nonfiction. I think there are people who are looking for it to be the same thing. I think it's that. I think it's the cultural moment. We're in a moment where we're thinking about and talking about race all the time.<br />
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I just think for a lot of people it's a depiction of Black life in a way that is new to them or it's different to them. I've had people remark about the fact that the book isn't set in the south, or it's not set in the urban north–the idea that if you're writing about Black people, and it's not Mississippi, or it's not New York or Chicago, people don't really know what to do with that. I think there's also this sense that there is a portrayal of Black life that is not familiar to a lot of people, and it's not something that they really imagine or expect. They want to talk about that, also. <style type="text/css">
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<i>Kimberly Foster is the founder and editor-in-chief of For Harriet. <script>!function(d,s,id){var js,fjs=d.getElementsByTagName(s)[0];if(!d.getElementById(id)){js=d.createElement(s);js.id=id;js.src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js";fjs.parentNode.insertBefore(js,fjs);}}(document,"script","twitter-wjs");</script></i>For Harriethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09683917312535044896noreply@blogger.com0