A snippet of conversation from gay.com......
nevitablecharm: I think thats your attitudePierre_Tascher_02: not at allPierre_Tascher_02: this placePierre_Tascher_02: iand its environmentPierre_Tascher_02: are totallyinevitablecharm: Then you should leavePierre_Tascher_02: unprogressivePierre_Tascher_02: and see....Pierre_Tascher_02: there you go lolPierre_Tascher_02: you Pierre_Tascher_02: and your whitenessPierre_Tascher_02: who deem that you can tell mePierre_Tascher_02: what I should and should not doPierre_Tascher_02: you need some liberation in your life....inevitablecharm: Yes, I can tell you, so shove off. Take your fat black ass and leave.Pierre_Tascher_02: hahaPierre_Tascher_02: you and your whiteness....Pierre_Tascher_02: and what can Purdue do for me?Pierre_Tascher_02: lord give me strengthPierre_Tascher_02: anywayPierre_Tascher_02: I recommendinevitablecharm: Nothing cause you cannot do a thing for yourselfPierre_Tascher_02: reading Alice WalkerPierre_Tascher_02: and Audre LordePierre_Tascher_02: and Pierre_Tascher_02: Adrienne RichPierre_Tascher_02: and bell hooksPierre_Tascher_02: becausePierre_Tascher_02: theyPierre_Tascher_02: can definitelyPierre_Tascher_02: change your lifePierre_Tascher_02: for the betterinevitablecharm: I assume you have posters of the black panthers above your bed?Pierre_Tascher_02: I doPierre_Tascher_02: some of them-)Pierre_Tascher_02: ;-)Pierre_Tascher_02: who is above yours?inevitablecharm: Very sad, the only reason your so bitter is because even your own race, mankind, had given up on youinevitablecharm: your hate is so deep that you are blinded by itPierre_Tascher_02: my hate?Pierre_Tascher_02: although I must say I do ..sortof...possess not a hate..but a disgustPierre_Tascher_02: I will sayPierre_Tascher_02: but alasPierre_Tascher_02: you are even inevitablecharm: I speak hate to you cause its all you understand. Even if I had spoken politely to you you wouldnt have understood itPierre_Tascher_02: out of it...there is no such thing as racePierre_Tascher_02: I must sayinevitablecharm: YES, there is a racePierre_Tascher_02: I dont hate anythingPierre_Tascher_02: hahainevitablecharm: its called HUMANSPierre_Tascher_02: "yes mr white man.....Pierre_Tascher_02: there is race"Pierre_Tascher_02: anywayPierre_Tascher_02: you need some liberationPierre_Tascher_02: so you canPierre_Tascher_02: stop being a white malePierre_Tascher_02: and learnPierre_Tascher_02: to be Humaninevitablecharm: See, you are so full of hate you dont even listenPierre_Tascher_02: ....inevitablecharm: But I dont think you hate white people or black peoplePierre_Tascher_02: there is no such thingPierre_Tascher_02: as white peoplePierre_Tascher_02: or black peopleinevitablecharm: I think you hate yourself, cause of what you look like, because of how you are and your only last string to hold onto is HATEPierre_Tascher_02: well, there are Black people...Pierre_Tascher_02: but only in the Black artsPierre_Tascher_02: expressionistPierre_Tascher_02: sensePierre_Tascher_02: of the wordPierre_Tascher_02: ok....Pierre_Tascher_02: I think I am beautiful-)Pierre_Tascher_02: I also think that you need some liberation-)
Wednesday, March 02, 2005
My First Memory
My first memory of a Radical Blackness was in Headstart or in some early point during my time at Price Elementary School when they held a celebration during Black HIstory Month to commemorate the making of MLK's birthday into a federal holiday. As we endted the auditorium, I saw the emblazoned, life-sized figures of Black faces hanging on posters from the ceiling: Bill Cosby, Angela Davis, Lena Horne, and Maya Angelou are some that I remember. These were beautiful black faces, and the auditorium reverbrated as the sound of Stevie Wonder's voice bounced off the wall as he sang "Happy Birthday," his tribute to Dr. King. It was Black pride and Black assertiveness in a school where most of the children's faces were of color- either black or brown.
My Elemmentary school was a beautiful school as I remember. It seemed either grey or light green on the outside, contrasting the off white and colorful murals on the side walks with a welcoming asphald playground where I used to swing and play house in the monkey bars. I never climbed just to climb. I was different. Inside was good as were sheltered by mostly endearing black faces with an occassional white one appearing, such as Aunt Johnnie's good friend and my teacher for one year while I was there at Price, Mrs. Bull. It was especially the case for me, as my Aunt Johnnie was given care for my tutelage from the time I was three years old-- from Head Start to first grade. This has led to the wicked side of me-- my vanity and somewhat snobbishness. I did feel special during my time there at Price, and I was taken care of by my aunts and the others there around me. I felt like an exception. I loved school, and even more so I loved learning.
My childhood was shrouded in some magical cloud where I spent the considerable part of my time -- in the libraries, museums, and engaged intellectually, pondering the things of the world. There was an excited energy around my youth, from my parents involvement in and the immediacy of the Jackson and Washington campaings and my aunts and grandmother's participation in the Chicago Teacher's Union. Although they were not dyed-in - the-wool progressives, this involvement on their part allowed me a premature taste of the ideology and the vision and the urgency of Blackpride and its commitment to progressive struggle. I dont know how much of my awareness was due to their involvement and how much was just my being there in Chicago. The entire city was possessed by an energy and a zeal that was daily fed to the masses of people-- on television, through social activist networks, and through word of mouth interaction.
I remember the elation of Washington's election as mayor and I remember the intense sadness and futile loss of his death. I remmeber the power and vision of Jesse Jackson's bid for presidency and the unity felt in his political message. The beauty of that time was real and inspiring and the legacy of those people in progressive movement created the context and the background for my political development and my growth as a human being concerned with the welfare of humanity and the eradication of oppression for people across the globe.
My background is spotted with movments of progressivisim and elements that provide a backdrop for my formation as a person of consciousness. My mother and other members of my family were involved with the Frank London Brown Historical Society, which sounds like a very progressive group that met periodically to host discussions on issues of the black community, black history, and the legacy of progressive struggle, and hosted very notable figures that addressed the group and had ties to several celebrity figures that were local. Not only was my mother present in the organization, but also Aunt Johnnie, Uncle Archie, and Cousin Fannie. My mother's participation ended when the organization was raided. Government crackdowns on progressive entities brought my mother's enlightnment to a halt. I know absolutely nothing else about this organization, not even whether it is still in existence.
My Uncle Archie, who was a member of the group, was apparently a friend and neighbor of Dick Gregory's. My Uncle Donald was tied to, if not a member of, the Black Panther Party. My uncle is very a very progressive-oriented man- he gave me a copy of Langston Hughes' "I Wonder as I Wander" when I was thirteen years old. That book enlightened me in many ways and opened my eyes to the world as I learned about the Chinese and watermelons floating down the Mekong River, and Russian peasants in Tashkent sipping from a communal bowl of tea.....
My first memory of a Radical Blackness was in Headstart or in some early point during my time at Price Elementary School when they held a celebration during Black HIstory Month to commemorate the making of MLK's birthday into a federal holiday. As we endted the auditorium, I saw the emblazoned, life-sized figures of Black faces hanging on posters from the ceiling: Bill Cosby, Angela Davis, Lena Horne, and Maya Angelou are some that I remember. These were beautiful black faces, and the auditorium reverbrated as the sound of Stevie Wonder's voice bounced off the wall as he sang "Happy Birthday," his tribute to Dr. King. It was Black pride and Black assertiveness in a school where most of the children's faces were of color- either black or brown.
My Elemmentary school was a beautiful school as I remember. It seemed either grey or light green on the outside, contrasting the off white and colorful murals on the side walks with a welcoming asphald playground where I used to swing and play house in the monkey bars. I never climbed just to climb. I was different. Inside was good as were sheltered by mostly endearing black faces with an occassional white one appearing, such as Aunt Johnnie's good friend and my teacher for one year while I was there at Price, Mrs. Bull. It was especially the case for me, as my Aunt Johnnie was given care for my tutelage from the time I was three years old-- from Head Start to first grade. This has led to the wicked side of me-- my vanity and somewhat snobbishness. I did feel special during my time there at Price, and I was taken care of by my aunts and the others there around me. I felt like an exception. I loved school, and even more so I loved learning.
My childhood was shrouded in some magical cloud where I spent the considerable part of my time -- in the libraries, museums, and engaged intellectually, pondering the things of the world. There was an excited energy around my youth, from my parents involvement in and the immediacy of the Jackson and Washington campaings and my aunts and grandmother's participation in the Chicago Teacher's Union. Although they were not dyed-in - the-wool progressives, this involvement on their part allowed me a premature taste of the ideology and the vision and the urgency of Blackpride and its commitment to progressive struggle. I dont know how much of my awareness was due to their involvement and how much was just my being there in Chicago. The entire city was possessed by an energy and a zeal that was daily fed to the masses of people-- on television, through social activist networks, and through word of mouth interaction.
I remember the elation of Washington's election as mayor and I remember the intense sadness and futile loss of his death. I remmeber the power and vision of Jesse Jackson's bid for presidency and the unity felt in his political message. The beauty of that time was real and inspiring and the legacy of those people in progressive movement created the context and the background for my political development and my growth as a human being concerned with the welfare of humanity and the eradication of oppression for people across the globe.
My background is spotted with movments of progressivisim and elements that provide a backdrop for my formation as a person of consciousness. My mother and other members of my family were involved with the Frank London Brown Historical Society, which sounds like a very progressive group that met periodically to host discussions on issues of the black community, black history, and the legacy of progressive struggle, and hosted very notable figures that addressed the group and had ties to several celebrity figures that were local. Not only was my mother present in the organization, but also Aunt Johnnie, Uncle Archie, and Cousin Fannie. My mother's participation ended when the organization was raided. Government crackdowns on progressive entities brought my mother's enlightnment to a halt. I know absolutely nothing else about this organization, not even whether it is still in existence.
My Uncle Archie, who was a member of the group, was apparently a friend and neighbor of Dick Gregory's. My Uncle Donald was tied to, if not a member of, the Black Panther Party. My uncle is very a very progressive-oriented man- he gave me a copy of Langston Hughes' "I Wonder as I Wander" when I was thirteen years old. That book enlightened me in many ways and opened my eyes to the world as I learned about the Chinese and watermelons floating down the Mekong River, and Russian peasants in Tashkent sipping from a communal bowl of tea.....
Tonight I am stoned.... I swear. For the first time in my life... but on some hookah stuff. Anyway,
I love josh, he is like a brother to me. Maybe I haven't known him long enough or whatever, but he is very dear to me. Other than that, all I have to say is Lafayette is evil....and I rarely use that word-- and its not in the good sense of the word either. [I am editing this. I generally don't tamper with the archive, but I am moved to. I sound too much like a white boy and it is frightening-- instead of "wierd" I have inserted "evil." A word, perhaps, I use too much.]
I love josh, he is like a brother to me. Maybe I haven't known him long enough or whatever, but he is very dear to me. Other than that, all I have to say is Lafayette is evil....and I rarely use that word-- and its not in the good sense of the word either. [I am editing this. I generally don't tamper with the archive, but I am moved to. I sound too much like a white boy and it is frightening-- instead of "wierd" I have inserted "evil." A word, perhaps, I use too much.]
Monday, February 28, 2005
One of thefirst things I want to talk about is to establish a definition of the boundaries that I see that exist between this dichotomy (false though it may be) between the "White" and the "Other" (primarily black) that exists in this country, especially in the social fabric that has been woven within the steel frameworks of American polity and economy. I think that which separates those that exist within this dominant structure (reason why they should get out of it) is the manner of how they exist and operate. In my interactions with so called white people, I find that one thing that separates the ultimate connection between cultures, if you will, is the expression of grief, the expression of pain, and the overall way in which we bond amongst ourselves and express our love, our joy, our sorrow, our deepest and truest emotions. Power structures breed coldness and encourage those that exist within it to operate accordingly. They provide "rules" by which people are supposed to live...and especially those who are brought up in the light of the system are taught to act and conduct themselves according to the "rules" established by this structure. This is not to say that Nonwhite cultures don't have rules, but alas, outside of the white world and the eyesight of the power structure people do possess the ability to scream and express themselves and to cry and to love passionately and to hate and to bitch and moan to their hearts content. This is not the answer to the world's riddle, but it is something that helps us not go crazy or to run ourselves over from the inside.
I am pretty naive sometimes and I do look at people and think "oh how perfect their lives are...aren't they beautiful?" But more and more I have come to notice the flaws within them and that which constantly keeps them on the point of crashing...which is a lesson for this (un)civilized culture. I have not seen more "beautiful people" abusing drugs, alcohol, themselves, others, or other addictions, or simply being out of touch with their humanity and the humanity of others. That said, American culture is on its way towards an ultimate and violent end as not only does it fail to respect the humanity of others, but within its own systemic way of living, the hostility within it is growing within it to such gargantuan levels that their will surely be chaos at the end of this viscious cycle of cutthroat competitiveness. There is something to be learned from studying those cultures that have outlasted the "great" civilizations throughout history.....
I am pretty naive sometimes and I do look at people and think "oh how perfect their lives are...aren't they beautiful?" But more and more I have come to notice the flaws within them and that which constantly keeps them on the point of crashing...which is a lesson for this (un)civilized culture. I have not seen more "beautiful people" abusing drugs, alcohol, themselves, others, or other addictions, or simply being out of touch with their humanity and the humanity of others. That said, American culture is on its way towards an ultimate and violent end as not only does it fail to respect the humanity of others, but within its own systemic way of living, the hostility within it is growing within it to such gargantuan levels that their will surely be chaos at the end of this viscious cycle of cutthroat competitiveness. There is something to be learned from studying those cultures that have outlasted the "great" civilizations throughout history.....
Tonight I am reinvigorating this blog. As I hear doors slam and people chattering around me I am focusing in to reinstate this blog to be sort of my manifesto, my sounding board, the place where I will lay down my thoughts for all others to see as they fall out of my head. I reintroduce myself again tonight as a passionate, creative, feminist,queer,imaginative spirit who only thrives and wishes to be free in the midst of a hounding patriarchy that seeks to confine and to bind everyone into the murderous wheel that they call progress.......
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