Young, Black, and Absent

'Kay. I am watching the CW and trying to do my paper. Finished Gossip Girl (amazing duh) and now onto One Tree Hill (not so much).

Why can't they get Skills a black/African-American/colored/negro love interest??????

There are no young black women on television. Young ranging from teen dramas (see above) to like, Grey's Anatomy. There is seldom an attractive black female character on a TV show, and quite frankly, I'm sick of it.

Well, we can include The Game which is totally like the best sitcom ever. But anyway. If we don't include the genre (read: black, usually shuffled to UPN--may it rest in peace) shows and just look towards mainstream TV, pretty/desired (NOT just lusted after) AND complex leading ladies never have brown skin.

The pretty part is important because as black women we want to be desired and sweetly courted, too, not just objectified or given the one-off role of stripper. For example, on Grey's. The female characters were supposed to be smart AND bangable, which they were. Except Miranda Bailey. Now, never say I don't love Dr. Bailey because God would strike you down as a liar. But. On the show she's the maternal character, more harshly put: the Mammy figure. She's older than the other ladies, married with a child, and she's never had a love scene four or five seasons in.

I'm just sayin'. "Girlfriends" is off the air. "One on One" is off the air. "The Parkers," "Moesha"...hell, The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air only dated black women (and he dated a LOT). Young black gals gets no love, it seems.

Ok, I'm outta here. I have so much incomplete homework it's scary.

Next Up: Getting My Obama T-Shirt

Whew. That was a hectic few days. A lot of tears were almost-shed. Ok, I'm lie-telling. When the First Couple danced I cried a little. It's that black love...

My dumb ass missed the actual swearing-in: I was asleep, but I woke up in the middle of his speech and STILL got goosebumps. Then, later on at work, I youtubed the oath (*cringes at the awkward mess-up*) and watched a live-feed of the ball.

Ponder: there are big-screen TVs EVERYWHERE at work, yet I still had to watch the festivities on the internet during halftime of the game I was supposed to be watching. While getting furtive glances from my melanin-deprived co-workers. I was semi-loud, too, saying stuff like, "Ooh, look at Michelle's dress!" and "Aww, they're dancing" and "Omg Sasha and Malia are too CUTE." In my head I was thinking, "I DARE any of you to say something. NOT today."

Plus I had on my "Super Obama" pin.

Of course there are still some racist people out there saying dumb things, but that still doesn't change the fact that he's EVERYONE'S president...Obama is the, if I may be so bold, HBIC, and there ain't nothing y'all can do about it.

I can't help but feeling a crazy amount of pride about being black. For the longest time, a black president was this faraway, "someday" notion--a someday that no one but the most idealistic among us could see. It was the last threshold across which a black person could not or had not step. And I think it gave some people security: "Whew, black people are coming up, but we've still got the presidency." Well, not anymore. We are LEGIT, dammit. Too legit, in fact, to quit.

In terms of race, things are clearly nowhere near perfect. But all this, I think, allows for discussions about race to be had that white people/the majority never had to have before, which can only be a good thing. Where we could once push race under the rug, it is now front and center, unavoidable because the highest power in the free world belongs to a man with brown skin (like me!). Hopefully these developments will not only cast black people in a better light and change perceptions of us, but open the door for thoughtful discussions about race in which there is no right or wrong, no "why do black people do this or that" but honest dialogue.

My dad has an old, yellowed newspaper in the basement from the day Nelson Mandela was released from prison. Today I bought one of Barack Hussein Obama being sworn in as the first black president of the United States.

Welcome to the White House, Mr. President. We've been waiting for you.

This Week Has Been One Big Hot Flash

So. I'm annoyed.

I haven't properly talked to BFF in...awhile. I would text her and get nothing in response. Since, like, before Christmas. I'd start to get worried that I wasn't keeping in touch, send another text, get nothing, get more worried. Eventually, worried turned into "annoyed." I didn't want to jump to conclusions, so I tried to reserve too much annoyance. "Maybe she didn't have her phone," I'd think. But on yet another attempt, I wrote, "where have you been? Is everything ok?" and got back "I'm ok, in [city]." Relieved that she wasn't laying in a street somewhere dead, I responded with a "did you get any of my texts?" You guessed it, no answer. Cue actual annoyance. This hasn't' been the first time she's blown me off, by the way. Finally, she texted me a "Merry Christmas," but by that time I was annoyed--I think I responded, though.

Didn't hear from her until she called while I was at a friend's house on New Year's Eve. Still annoyed, and not wanting to be rude to my host, I texted her saying I was at a friend's house and would try to "ttyl." But a part of me didn't want to talk to her just yet. Why return her calls when the same courtesy hadn't been extended to me?

Earlier this evening, she sent me a "we need to talk." Well, text: I have a hanus cold/massive throatache. She said she didn't have her phone for 10 days, but she had called me twice in December. Both calls, which, I said, were probably made after I had been texting her to no avail. And anyway, like I said, why would I rush to return your calls when you don't return mine? And, ok, 2 calls versus a zillion texts and writing on her facebook wall just in case she didn't have her phone: all of which virtually went unanswered.

She wrote that I was "making a big deal out of something [she] had no control over. Get over it" etc etc. What fresh HELL? I said something to the effect of asking I get that you didn't have your phone but wouldn't you see that there were numerous texts from me and, I don't know, let me know what's up? I even wrote on your wall in case you didn't have a phone, pardon me for being worried about you.

No response.

Or am I totally tripping? I texted again. Do you see where I'm coming from?

No response.

Hello? One last try. Are we still having a conversation, are we talking when I can use the phone again, or...?

No response, and a blank stare to boot (from me, not her).

So, pretend to be objective, readers: am I, to coin a phrase, tripping? Why no "hey, I'm ok, I'm not ignoring you I just lost my phone" text? Why are you just now telling me this, as if a person wouldn't be annoyed a) at the pretense of being ignored 2) that her best friend is making her feel stupid for worrying about her? I mean, sheesh, at the very least, is an apology out of the damn question? Behavior like this makes me think she doesn't value our friendship. Which, I mean, I know she does, but...fuck...I'm pissed, and I think I have the right to be.

Plus, I have a lot on my plate at the moment. A dear friend is having school troubles at the moment, I haven't registered for classes yet, and to top it okk, I'm sick, I was actually at the doctor the day before it really kicked in. But when he examined my throat he found nothing. I wanted desperately be all Grey's Anatomy like, "You know, Doc, it might be my trachea..." but I didn't. I wish he would have found something because I literally cannot speak. Way to spend my last week at home. I've been living on Ramen noodles (actually I owe my life to those packets of noodley goodness) and knocking back shot glass-dosages of Tylenol--just 'cause I'm sick doesn't mean I can't take it like a champ.

Since I've been sick I've been watching a lot (a LOT) of TV, too--my aching throat distracts me from sleeping so I crawl in my parents' bed and watch Sportscenter and the History Channel...lulls me to sleep, incidentally. A new discovery: I have a thing for, it seems, crimes. But real stuff: Snapped, True Life: I'm in Prison, and recently Dog the Bounty Hunter. Watch it for the actual catches and for, Lord have mercy, the clothes. The whole family has mullets and every female fugitive they catch has horrid eyebrows. But the bounty hunters are actually quite nice to the fugitives once they're caught. And the son, Leland, is gorgeous--even with his grody ponytail. Two enthusiastic thumbs up.** Also, I think I'm gonna recap/reality index Daddy's Girls--that show about Angela and Vanessa Simmons. I couldn't figure out whether or not I liked it.

**Whoa. I just heard the racist remarks he made about, yep, us black folks. He wants his son to break up with his black girlfriend because the family uses the N-word and he doesn't want to be caught on camera using a racial slur. *Crickets* *reserving judgment on whether I watch the show again...*

I know I'm rambling but it's the cold medicine, tiredness, and Taco Bell, talking. Please excuse. Maybe I'll shop to lessen the pain. Yes, my suitcase was full when I arrived in Home State but I will crawl through the mall with a Tylenol IV if I have to.

Update: We are weird. Me and her will "fight" then two days later someone will call/text and be like "what classes are you taking this semester?" We managed to patch things up this morning at like 7am. She was like "why are you still awake?" and I was like "I'm sick" and she was like "Ew" and stuff. The mark of friendship, I guess, when even the wickedest of fights blow over in a few days' time...

One Tree Hill Reality Index

The mighty New York Magazine, of Go Fug Yourself fame, recaps Gossip Girl and sometimes, the Hills, every week, and it is nothing short of stupendous each time. I want to meet Chris and Jessica so bad! But until that happens, I decided to give recapping a show a shot. Except, knowing I couldn't do their GG posts justice, I did One Tree Hill instead. So, here's a very unscientific tally of what was real and what wasn't in this week's episode. Onward, bound!

Realer than Nathan Feeling Entitled to Wear #23 For the Rest of His Career
-True to Leyton form, the news of Peyton's pregnancy is only met with "I love yous," squinting, and happy tears. Remember when Haley was pregnant? She freaked out--and rightfully so! Peyton and Lucas are so blissfully unaware of how the world works. Plus 3, though, because they are older and they are, you know, Meant For Each Other. We deserve the right to renege if there isn't any "gonna be a parent" freakout in a future episode.
-Mouth's secret feelings of inadequacy fuel both of his arguments: first, he thinks Millie has no reason to come crawling back to him, then he has no choice to get mad because those feelings are totally validated when she manages to sleep with Owen the hot bartender. Plus 3 for Millie letting Mouth know that she does, indeed, got it like that.
-Brooke totally has on a "quest to find my missing daughter" jacket. With what looks like Chuck Taylors. We have never seen this before; she must be seriously distressed. Plus 3
-Plus 4 for "Protect and serve, my ass!" Cliche, but who hasn't wanted to say that to a non-helpful officer of the law?
-Plus 4 for Haley being so happy when Nate got the call. Finally! she thinks. Two paychecks!
-Plus 5 for those shots of Nathan's bulging biceps. Ooo-er.
-Even though it's been a while since elementary school, it's nice to know that "Pizza Fridays" are still something to look forward to. Plus 2 because I still usually only eat pizza on Fridays.
-Speaking of which, the B-League doesn't actually exist. Plus 2 if they actually meant the D-League, which really is like minor-league basketball, because then it's realistic that only 1 or 2 players has a shot to go pro.
-North Carolina really did used to have a D-League team. Plus 3 for recognizing the market.
-Plus 2 for that hideous Charleston Chiefs jersey. It's so fitting to let players know that they are not actually in the NBA by giving them ugly jerseys.
-Plus 3 for Mia's "Whoa, blast from the past!" about the hoodie, because everyone says that when presented with their old clothes.
-Jamie is kind of gullible for believing when Andre says that his mother gave him permission, but Plus 2, because when you're a kid, thinking you have permission to do something is almost the same as actually having it.
-Also, Plus 2 for Jamie leaving a note. He's been kidnapped before, he knows what's up.
-That Jack Daniels (if that's his real name) is bad news: he should've helped Sam out the window first, but Plus 2 because it's so in character that he'd jump out first--kid is kind of dumb.
-Plus 3 for Jamie saying, "We should Google that." All of the adults in his life are like 22. All we do is Google stuff.
-Plus 1 for Andre and Jamie. They're so cute together, and a virtual high-five for not making Andre the comedic sidekick (ahem, Skills).
-Plus 1 for Brooke still trying to be a cool mom, in spite of being in way over her head, by not taking Peyton along to rescue Sam.
-Luke just could not wait to say, "I just found out I'm going to be a father." He's kind of douchey, and that statement will give him a pass to justify just about anything. Plus 2
-Haley figures out that Peyton's preggers in like, a second. Plus 2 because she's so much smarter than everyone else. She even knows not to rain on Peyton's parade because everyone kind of rained on hers when she got knocked up.
-They killed Uncle Keith, Jimmy Edwards, and Nanny Carrie, but Brooke takes the High Road and doesn't kill her assailant. Plus 1 because she's a) a Changed Woman, 2) not Dan Scott.

Faker than Nathan Going to Practice in Skinny Jeans
-Minus 2 for Peyton's absurdly long fingernails. She strikes me as a nail biter.
-This has been bothering me for awhile: why is Naley in the black, pushing Range Rovers? His shoe deal that wasn't? Please. If Nate's downfall was drastic enough to hurt his rep, wouldn't we see finance ramifications, too? Minus 4
-If Sam doesn't get better backstory, like why she's soo important the whole town's looking for her, she's gotta go. Minus 4 because her presence annoys me.
-This episode reeked of The Devil Wears Prada. Devon calling Nate "15" is the new, "Wake up, six." And Paul wanting to fire Julian was very Bart Bass meets Miranda Priestly. Minus only 2, because at least Paul didn't demand that Lucas fire Julian.
-This deserves a separate point: why are all of Nathan's black teammates so mean to him? Quentin, those guys at the combine, this Devon character? WTF? It's like Mark Schwann still thinks he's making Coach Carter. Minus 4
-When Nate's playing ball he gets his shot blocked. Minus 2 because didn't Quentin teach him anything?
-How, exactly, is the Murdering Older Brother trying to play his interaction with Brooke? Is he trying to be mysterious, because he's actually acting kind of gay. Minus 3
-Ok. This must be Sophia Bush's horror movie career side coming out...this guy beat
your ass, what would posess you to go back inside? Minus only 1, because we later see that she's armed. She clearly is not thinking straight, what with all that latent leftover anger.
-Finally, Minus 2 for Lucas bringing Peyton a rose. She is so not a roses girl.

So there you have it, folks! If you don't watch One Tree Hill then this was probably boring for you, but I just wanted to take a stab at filling Daily Intel's shoes (learned: it's hard to be clever and snarky!). Maybe I'll do another show soon. Hope you enjoyed it! PS, I would actually add them up, but I'm too lazy...

A Fly in the Buttermilk...a Flyy One, Though...

A few friends from high school went 'round the border to Windsor, [Ontario] Canada for the night and oh, what a night 'twas. It was pretty fun--some of the music wasn't my style (I cannot dance--in the way which I am accustomed, that is--to Fat Bottomed Girls, classic thought it may be. I simply cannot.) but other than that, it was a learning experience.

I drove with Fashion Student and another girl, and in the car it was fine, but when we all got to the hotel I felt...out of place. A whole bunch of button-cute, tiny white girls and me. Zora Neale Hurston once wrote that she never felt more black than when surrounded by white people and, well, I now know what she means. 2 and a half years at an HBCU has certainly changed, and in some ways, validated my perspective on things.

Not that a club is the prime spot to meet dateable men, but I got no "good" attention. I say "good" because guys would come up to me and the two girls I was with, and virtually ignore me. As in, guys would ask both girls, who would be standing stock-still, to dance, and get declined. Meanwhile, I'm next to them, shaking my booty to "Love Lockdown", and they'd keep on walking. I'm talking, literally, a guy would come up and speak to everyone in the group but me. And clearly it's not like I'm ugly or anything, but those guys weren't checkin' for "sistahs" at all. I felt like the "ugly friend" almost all night.

Not only the "ugly friend," but the Black Girl Who Knows Everything About Hip-Hop/Can Dance To Every Song. When played-out songs from high school came on, everyone expected me to just go crazy, while I'm like, "um, actually, I haven't 'leaned wit it, rocked wit it' since prom..." I fielded comments like "Come on, you're SUPPOSED to have soul!" and "Can you teach me that dance?" I even got a "Heyy, chocolate, how you doin'?" I wasn't trying to be the black chick who can dance really well; I'm have average dancing skills, but I just looked better by default! Seriously, some of those people had no rhythm to speak of...HIL-arious, actually.

I guess it's a double-edged sword because when one guy actually danced with me he got waayy touchy-feely. Which I'm used to at the club, but I couldn't help wondering if he was doing it because supposedly black girls are easy/all video girls at heart. Even dancing by myself I felt like a "hypersexual black female" because there would be a ton of white guys watching. For example, when Sean Paul's "Get Busy" came on, I started to do the obligatory reggae-style dancing, but I really felt weird because no one else knew the song/danced to it properly. There were girls dancing way trashier than me but I still felt like the paid entertainment sometimes. It went one of two ways either I was totally ignored or feeling like an exotic dancer at some frat house.

It's hard to put into words. I mean, the club atmosphere is mostly girls being watched, and I was able to observe just how guys watched certain girls. All of the girls I was with were standard pretty white girls, and many guys positively fawned over them. Hell, this one guy stared at my friend Blondie so intently I swear him and his probably raging boner popped up at every club we went to. But there was a distinct difference in how my friends were viewed and how I was viewed--if I was viewed at all, that is. It was only, "oh, look at that tough black girl." I didn't feel like just another pretty girl at the club. I felt like an outsider.

I guess I was just observing the dynamic; this was the first time partying somewhere other than Southern State. Oddly, I felt extremely safe--from what I've seen stuff usually goes wrong when a guy tries to talk to a girl and she doesn't accept, is rude to him, or he does something to make her feel threatened. People/guys barely spoke to me so it was cool--I mean, you can't hurt an invisible person, right? And that's how I felt to the other clubgoers besides my friends: invisible when I wasn't being gawked at. Which is no way to feel during a girly night out on the town. Especially not in a town where the (legal) drinking age is 19.

All that said, though, I was with friends, and like I said, there are advantages to rolling with hot white girls: free shots, no cover charges, VIP access, no long entrance lines, and I guess there is a certain attention by association when you're with a group of loud, pretty, party girls. And if I'm invited again, I might just go back to Windsor and club-hop, an art that is too complicated to do back at school. I just have to adjust my mindset, I guess.

Plus, out of the three clubs we hit, not one played T-Pain, which kind of totally bothered me. Just unheard of.

Winners of the "Stupid Ass Parents" Contest

Sometimes, people shock me with their stupidity. But, in doing so, sometimes the dissenters shock me in a good way, too. That was the case with this whole "dumbass parents who named their kid 'Adolf Hitler'" drama. There's not a WORD to describe how I feel about the fucked-up-icityosityness of those parents. Little Alfie might get his ass beat once he starts school, even though he didn't choose his name. And I bet when the class covers WWII the teacher will be throwing her parents a MEAN side-eye in spirit. Sigh. Ramifications, people. Just...wow.

Here's my opinion on all this (key word: opinion).

Racism is still alive and present, contrary to popular belief. I've been lucky enough to never have been outrightly discriminated against, but I still get the *side-eye* too much for comfort when I'm in certain parts of Southern State, and it's not because I'm a snazzy dresser. And it seems sometimes that when there's outward or newsworthy racism, an annoying few commenters ('cause I gauge public opinion from the internet, natch) are all "well, why CAN'T black people act right?" So when this happened, I almost expected commenters to be all "well it's free speech" or "he said he has black friends" or even still, "but for real, for real, why CAN'T black people act right?!" But I have to say I was pleasantly surprised to see that there are still some lines that shant be crossed in terms of race, white supremacy being one of them.

'Cause I have to be honest: skinheads/that Aryan shit/supremacists scare the HELL out of me (seeing as I'm black and all, lol)...has anyone seen Higher Learning? Fun Fact: Ty Ty Baby was in it.

And what a scintillating performance she gave.

Anyway, in this age of free speech and whatnot, where the KKK is allowed to have rallies and has the gall to ask BHO to speak at its convention (for reals, google that shit. Update: scratch that, don't google it. You'll just get mad. Trust me), stuff slips in through the cracks every now and then on a technicality. I don't think about it often 'cause these people are extremists (hopefully/probably) in the minority, but it's still scary. But the public outcry from this story gave me comfort that, yes, there is still racism, but no sir, y'all are on another level of "that shit is NOT okay."

Not today, not tomorrow, not on payday.

And also, someone cyber-asked if anyone's ever seen like, well-to-do white supremacists. Like, ones with a respectable-to-profitable occupation, decent taste in clothing, or decent dental care (seriously, click on that link and get into those teeth. Pause for effect.)? I think not. Even the guy in Higher Learning had an unfortunate ponytail/pasty skin situation. This answer exacted the conclusion that white supremacy is a good example of, actually, an inferiority complex! Or Bottom of the Totem Pole Syndrome, where, essentially, they have literally NOTHING else going in any aspect of their sad lives, and only have "well, at least I'm white, therefore I'm better than most in my own way." Um, not really, but do you. Just keep that shit on your side of the farm, sir.

The journalist in me wants to interview these sad, sad people and kill them. With my intellectualosity, and poignant questions, of course! Again, I'm lucky, during the elections, a lot of my friends at My College were like, "I never knew how racist my people back home are!" and I was all, "Really? Damn. I know some slightly ignorant but well-meaning people, but they ain't outright** racist. Sucks to be you, let's go get some food." That said, I don't know what I would say if someone was outright racist to me. I don't mean saying something rude with underlying racial subtext but like, "you blacks sure are [insert insult here]." Especially now, with my HBCU-state of mind, which is quickly any "acceptable Negro" leftover from high school.

**Some make the argument that there are many "dinner table racists" who act tolerant but really are as racist as the day is long. That may be true, but I can't worry about that--I consider that paranoid and plus, I like to give people the benefit of the doubt. When you make your prejudices known and it affects me, THEN we might [will] have a problem.

I wonder if I'll ever have to interview an Aryan Nation-supporter or something, though. Truthfully, it'd be kind of fascinating--in a sick way. I really want to know the mindset of a racist person, want to know why they think they way they do and think it's ok. The first thing I'd ask would be, "you know you're probably going to Hell, right?"

Ok, maybe not on-camera.

But in this case, I would ask, "What reason would you give a Holocaust survivor who wanted to know why you named your daughter after the man responsible for what was probably the worst experience of their life, 6 million others' lives, and brought shame to an entire country?"

Eh, the parents are probably the type who think the Holocaust numbers were exaggerated, that Hitler had his attractive points, or even, more infuriatingly, that the whole thing never happened. On second thought, I couldn't interview them for too long; I would probably jump across the table and there would be slapping involved.

Ugh. I cannot think about this anymore. These fucktards are messing up my chi, when I should be thinking happy holiday thoughts. And about the Sloppy Joes I just made. Plus, I had good news but I had to call foul on this one. A double "eff you" goes to the Campbells for pushing back my good news. See what you've started?

And I thought naming your kid "Bronx Mowgli" "God'Iss Love" or "Audio Science" was bad. Or Shaniqua.

PS: there were more than 72 celebrity babies born this year. Got-dayum!
PPS: Cedric the Entertainer named his daughter Lucky! Go off!
PPPS: On second thought, I don't mind the name Bronx Mowgli. I like New York and I like The Jungle Book.