Tuesday, April 7, 2015

On Valuing Women's Bodies

A February 2015 ESSENCE article listed seven attributes which led a man to marry his wife. Written by a man, Point # 6, titled She Isn't Easy, caught my eye

She respected and valued her body. She wouldn't let me sleep with her on the first night, the first week, the first month like every other woman I'd met until that point.

She wouldn't let me. . .

Why were you trying?

Dear Men,

I am beyond tired of being told to keep my legs shut while you are trying to get between them. Why do I have to defend myself to be considered respectable? Why do I have to prove to you that my body is to be valued?

How 'bout you respect me by not trying to sleep with me on the first night, first week, first month? How 'bout you show me how much you value me by not pressing the issue?

Cordially,

What Kind of Ministry is This?

A December 2014 ESSENCE article was about an AIDS infected woman who had been featured twenty years prior. What caught my attention 

Rae Lewis-Thornton was a newlywed when her ESSENCE cover hit newsstands. “When we got married, my husband would say his ministry was to watch me die, and when I died he was going to travel the country sharing his story as my caregiver,” she says.

WHAT?!

I can't even. But I'm going to try anyway.

What kind of man, what kind of husband, is so self-centered, so self-absorbed, that instead of hoping for his wife's recovery, he anticipates her death so that he might become world renowned? How empty and insincere is his "pain"? An impassionate stare as she coughs in the other room; the perfunctory fluffing of pillows and a sad smile as he bides his time.

His "ministry" was to watch her die? How far from God do you have to be to watch someone die with a heart eager to profit from their death? How far, with a heart uninterested in caring for their life?

As her health improved, the marriage deteriorated.

Yea it did. God said, that was your ministry, not mine.

Monday, July 14, 2014

On Gluttony

Seriously, though. Simple overeating is not the equivalent of Gluttony. Never has been.

Gluttony is the refusal to be satisfied.

Consider a charity crab feed. One of those events where you bring your own butter, and devour as much shellfish as you can handle.

You've seen this person. Sitting in the banquet hall, disdain for the house wines, for the presence of Coke instead of Pepsi. When the bucket of cooked but cold crab legs is set before them, they sniff

Crab tastes so much better warm, with butter too hot to touch

and almost (almost) refuse to eat.

Pretentiously picky. In our culture, this is a mark of gluttony.

Tuesday, June 10, 2014

Challah

I had a taste for challah. Not the full loaf, just a little bit. A knot or two would do.

Alas, challah is not sold in knots for individual consumption. The braided bread, traditionally eaten at Friday night Shabbat and on special Jewish occasions, was not made to be eaten alone. It is a communal bread, meant to be shared. With friends, family, strangers.

So it is with us. Laughter, Joys, Burdens, Tears – we are not meant to experience life alone.

Sunday, February 16, 2014

Oh, Florida (Updated)

Thoughts about the case of Michael Dunn murdering Jordan Davis. Dunn was found guilty of attempting 2nd degree murder, but not of murdering Davis outright.

First, a summary of the facts, sourced from Wild About Trial and CNN.

A man stops at a gas station convenience store with his lady. The plan is to buy a bottle of wine before heading back to the hotel for the night. They are visiting family, having spent the day at a wedding.

A truck with four of teenagers approaches and parks next to the man, music blaring. They've come from the mall, Black Friday shopping. Holiday Season has officially begun.

While his lady is buying the wine, the man asks the teenagers to turn down their music. They refuse. The two parties argue.

The man takes a pistol from his glove compartment and fires roughly 10 shots into the teenagers' truck. When his lady returns with the wine, he speeds away to the hotel. Three of the shots strike one of the teenagers in the back seat, hitting his liver, lung, and aorta. At no point does the man call the police.

When the police question him, the man said one of the teens threatened him while brandishing a shot gun. No gun was found in the truck or on the person of any of the people in the truck.

<DEEP BREATH>

These were punk teenagers, with the inconsiderate blaring of their music. I've read that at one point the kids turned the music down…then turned it back up after the man got back into his car.

Punk Kids. Let's not pretend they were as angelic as when they were six months old.

No, I'm not talking about punk rockers with Mohawks. When I say "punk" I'm referring to the arrogant, selfish attitude that sometimes makes you want to strangle a kid. Most of us have the good sense to walk away when we get to that level of irritation.

Yes, the type of music is irrelevant. Except maybe if it's classical.


Why didn't the man trust the police? He could have called them, citing noise ordinance or public nuisance. When he saw the gun, he could taken down the truck's license plate and informed the police of a possible threat to the community.

Instead, his actions suggest a distrust of local law enforcement and their abilities. Jacksonville PD should be offended.


Trained police officers have mistaken wallets for firearms (see Amadou Diallo). Thus, it is highly likely an untrained civilian in a tense situation would make a similar mistake.

Indeed, I believe he did make a similar mistake, seeing a gun where there wasn't one. Sometimes adrenaline is not our friend.


Up to this point, I've attempted to avoid the issues of race, class, and music preference which make this case feel complicated. They are issues, but for now, I only have one related question

Would Dunn have done the same thing if it was a mixed-race group of kids blasting rap? If none of the races represented were black? If all of the kids where white?

I think Dunn would say yes, though I don't believe he truly knows the answer.

UPDATE: Glimpsed CNN, and there was talk of Mr. Dunn's feelings about black men, gleaned from letters he wrote from jail. It seems he sees all black men as thugs, some of whom should be exterminated to teach the rest to alter their behavior.

Thus

If the kids in the car blasting rap music were not black, he possibly would have reacted differently.

<deep breath>

So
if Mr. Dunn saw my brother
In the supermarket, shopping for groceries,
No earrings, no tattoos, no sagging pants,
Focused on the business at hand,
Mr. Dunn would see an insect to be exterminated.

<breathe>

Even if Dunn said, "No, of course not!", I'm not sure I would believe him.

<heart breaking a little bit more>

Friday, January 3, 2014

Some Cuss Words

Oh I'm writing them out in full. Warning.

I've not been a fan of the term motherfucker. It seems more insulting to the person's mother than to the person. Unless by motherfucker one means violent rapist. In which case, it makes sense.

I realize asshole is a pejorative simply because of what comes out of one's   ass   hole. But really. When ya gotta poop, ya gotta poop. The ability to push excrement out of our bodies is a good thing. We're releasing toxins! Of course, those of you for fart on purpose are simply nasty. The term asshole seems properly applicable to you.

Dumbass is, at the moment, my favorite. I just like the sound of it.

Bitches. Well, I think of this for both genders. Though I’m more inclined to use it when referring to men, or a mixed group. Rarely women only. I don't like calling women bitches. Yes, one could argue accuracy, but there's so much abuse behind it when used exclusively for females. A woman who has been the object of violence and violation has had it screamed and shouted at her. Not even the flooziest of floozies deserves the term.

However

Do you tailgate folks in the slow lane? Flash people to go faster, when the left lane if free & clear? Bitch.

Shit's just vulgar. Certainly not on the same plane as motherfucker. I try to sheist instead. It's shit in German. And I've probably spelled it wrong.

I often say, Oh, Hell no. I guess hell is a cuss word because it's where Satan lives and the Devil is evil, etc., etc. In ranking, it falls below shit for me. Not terribly cussy.

Granted, I still try not to say it around children. You may think it's cute to hear a 2-year old use it correctly. But really, shouldn't we wait until they're at least eleven or twelve before we start corrupting them?

If I call someone a nigger, they're usually not black. I think of it in terms of behavior, not ethnicity.
White Reality TV celebrity does something crazy? Nigga, please.

Sadly, when I substitute negro for nigger, I'm always referring to a black person. Given the meaning of the word, I can't use negro for ethnicities other than my own; it makes no sense. Pregnant black Reality TV star wants a push gift? Negro, please.

This doesn't make nigger any more or less complex than it already is. Many who abhor the term are reminded of violence and abuse – the same way I shudder when I hear a woman called a bitch. Others grew up with it. It's what you called your people, your friends. It's what your parents called you.


For many black communities, the tussle over the term will not be ending any time soon.

Saturday, December 21, 2013

Santa Claus is Santa Claus

So there was an article in Slate (a web magazine) about the need for Santa Claus to not be white all the time,

Which prompted a segment on Fox News where the show's host declared it a fact that Santa Claus is white,

Which prompted a day or two of media flurry.

Look.

Santa Claus is recognized by the red suit, white beard, and white hair. When I was a kid, the Santa Claus in the shopping center by my grandparents' house was black. Because my grandparents lived in a predominately black neighborhood. Different neighborhoods have Santas of different ethnicities.

It's kind of like Elvis.

Wait, what?

Yes, Elvis was undeniably white. But did you know Bruno Mars was an Elvis impersonator as a tyke?

Bruno Mars is not white. But with the hair and the costume and the attitude – he became Elvis. Despite being what? Three years old?

Because

With a fierce pompadour, an appropriate number of sequins, bell bottoms and a good amount of swagger,

You'll see Elvis. Regardless of skin color.


Just like Santa Claus.