I love Datempo jazz...... I could certainly use jazz as life support if ever I needed to...it is life blood..... Oftentimes, I am faced with forces that try to restrict or contain me, which I resist to the utmost. I resist these with all of my being and they wear on my soul and constantly keep me in need of rejuvenation, replenishment. My creativity persists throughout, even though there are hands grabbing to pull it back, to stifle it, to muffle my voice. DIScombobulaTed. I will live, my voice will be heard, and I will speak truth in all of my words, thoughts, and actions. My truth. Deliberately, with passion, with candor, and with the urgency of my wit and will.

Something I wrote that I will work with later

I am just back from my conference in Cleveland. I had a wonderful time. Everything was good at the conference, and I was defintiely glad to meet up with Susan and actually see her face to face. Definitely not who I envisioned her to be. I made some great friends and contacts there and I think my first time in cleveland definitely sits well with me. Other than that crackhead woman, bj, that Shane sent me to the hotel with. I tell you, she seemed to me to be the representative of some earth force that was telling me that there was still the possiblity and the real presence of it on earth. I mean her language was terribly poetic and she spoke with the possession that speaks of the devil, especially according to some. The ride back from Cleveland was good, comforting.. I had some people to talk to, three throughout the trip, and I was able to rest and recompose. All is well in my world, at least for now.
Brandon

Bell got her PH.D at Santa Cruz! I am SOOO SOO GOING there now.

Steve Cain is such a wonderfully progressive man. I should go over to the Wesley Foundation more often. To think- - discussions on Marxism and Liberation THeology IN THE CHURCH(Not that that is something that is unheard of --but in INDIANA and in THIS ENVIRONMENT YES!!!!)

Observations While Listening to Toni and Cornel

Toni made mention of have a REAL INTEGRITY! I love her.... Cornel said "...but when your children are crying and mine are doing alright," my heart leapt and I said "Go ahead brother!" Earlier, Toni mentioned the anarchy in jazz-- I wanted to jump for Joy! There are definitely reasons why I love Toni and Cornel quite deeply (although, for some reason, I hold Toni at a close distance, but still she touches my soul). Thats what I have observed thus far.

On Listening to Cornel West and Toni Morrison

I am sitting here listening and watching Toni Morrison and Cornel West in conversation on the internet....and as I look into Toni's face as she speaks,her voice and her body re-minds me of my great-grandmother....However, I must critique some of what she says....I think her assessment of violence is a bit too simplistic. She mentions Mandela in her list of those exemplary of "nonviolent methods," but Mandela in his "I am Prepared to Die," address even gave his reasonings for why the South African liberation movement turned from their more non-violent methods to modes of organized and reasoned violent actions against oppression. I do not think that violence is the tool of immediate use--and I don't believe in any kind of brute force. However, as Alice Walker stated in regards to her assessment of what occurred on September 11th, violence is always with us, it is a fact of life.

This is not to justify violence the repression of the state, this is simply a statement of the circumstances in which we exist. That said, I believe it is incumbent for all to strive for peace and a peaceful environment for all human beings. However, along with that peace, there must be justice--hence the rally yell "No Justice NO PEACE!!" I believe what the proponents of nonviolence must and NEED do firstly, as a means of achieving a sure and all encompassing peace--is address the violence of oppression and the violence of oppressive hierarchies and institutions. What tends to happen as the message of Nonviolence is spread (which is mostly co-opted by the Power structure to quell dissent and revolutionary movement= the message of Dr. King, the most beloved now that he is dead, has ceased to be a nonracist, egalitarian society with the basic necessities of life ensured for people of all classes and their dignity,integrity, and humanity intact, has been reduced to " Dr. King preached NONVIOLENCE." (It is funny to think of the great big white man screaming down to his rebellious young (colored) children) "Remember! Dr. King preached NONVIOLENCE!"- Right, you want to keep your position and don't want anyone to kick your ass;-) At anyrate, a critique of the Violence within the POWER Structure and OF the Power structure and of hierarchies in general is what is needed within the nonviolent movement--and I think the Patriarchy Project spearheaded by Betty Reardon may play a part in that.

The issues of how the power structure is violent not only in terms of militarism and the sometimes even murderous machinations of the state as far as dissent and opposition go, but also the violence that is inherent in poverty, in racism, in sexism, in classism, in the ghetto conditions in which more and more people (and especially children) are forced, and in the violence that is imbued into the culture of this country that is more and more being played out in incidents such as Columbine, Abu Gharib (and there are a lot of issues concerning the violence imbedded in the tradition and history of this country and what occurred at Abu Gharib). This violence and the way that it trickles down into the meat of society and affects each and every person that comes into contact with it-- whether it be a mother trapped in the ghetto who's child is hungry and can't be guaranteed a full stomach, or the lengths and extent to which hierarchies will go in order to maintain the status quo--this is the violence that must be addressed in the nonviolent movement.

It is not a search for power that drives violent retaliation against oppressive hegemonies, it is a visceral struggle to survive that inspires revolutionary, violent activity(And the difference between revolution and violence must be made, because the two are not synonymous).Violence is a tool of last resort, but one cannot and should not condemn such beautiful struggles for dignity and liberation such as the anti-apartheid movement in South Africa and the Sandinista movement in Nicauragua. These struggles efforts of resistance are beautiful and inspiring.

Indeed, the beauty and integrity of the Black Power Movement and the Black Arts Expressionist Movement in the 1960s is rich and overflowing in the examples set by these movements for the struggle for humanity, integrity, and dignity. As Toni says in this dialogue, "There was a time in this country when art, education, and writing were a revolutionary act." Indeed this revolutionary zeal is what is witnessed when June Jordan states in her "Owed to Eminem,"

but nobody's dumb
enough to believe that you grieve
because folks
can't conceive that you more than a
moron
or why would you whore on
the hole in your sole?

At this stage of my rage
I'm a sage so I know how you blow
to the left then the right and you maim
every Columbine game about "No!
Cuz he's white!"

But I am that I am
and I don't give a damn
and you mess with my jam
and I'll kill you
I will!

and also in her poem "Poem About My Rights"

I am not wrong, wrong is not my name.
My name is my own my own my own,
and I can't tell you who in the hell set things up like this,
but I can tell you that from now on,
in my simple and daily and nightly existence,
in my very self-determination, it may very well
cost you your life.

This is the language of revolution. It is not violent, it is not oppressive- it is the language of self-attainment and the commitment to respect for the right to human dignity and human self-determination the world around.

You have GOT to LISTEN to June!!!!!!

June Jordan

Link to Amiri Baraka

God You must listen to this! Amiri Baraka " Somebody Blew Up America!"

Amiri Baraka

We need radical revolutionary change in this world. What happened to the spirits like Sonia Sanchez (who's face is burning in my mind right now)? Amiri Baraka?

I turned on my television tonight for the first time in ages...there wsa some show on CBS about a pedophile... I have seen quite a few shows like that on tv--cop dramas...this country is sick.....

I am just now looking at a picture book with illustrations of Josephine Baker and other scenes from the Cafe Au Lait period of Paris.... Beautiful....

I am reading bell hook's Where We Stand: Class Matters...and am in the section where she is talking about poor whites and white trash (a distinction I have failed to make up til this point).Some of her pronouncements are interesting....but her discussion of certain things put me in the mindset of my own family and its dealings with "white trash." IT is sort of odd, or perhaps not odd, but just untalked about- the nature of small, southern towns...but the racial dynamics in them are something worth and that NEED to be talked about. To give an example,when I was going to Prattville High School, there were two boys that went there, both named Michael Rawlinson-- one was black and the other was white. Both were related to me and were related to each other. That said, the Deramuses(me) are related to more than their fair share of poor white trash--- we didn't get to be related to too many high brow white people as is the experience of many other Blacks;-) But alas, one of the stories that has intriqued me the most is how my mother used to tell me when she was a little girl, this white woman would come to her grandmother's back door (she didnt want to be seen coming to the front) and knock and knock. And then she would say "Aw sissy (my great grandmother's nickname), you know we cousins....." and my mother would be standing behind her grandmother thinking "Who is this white woman at my grandmother's door begging for food?" Oh my, white power really does rule......

Ok, about Charles....he is a beautiful man/boy. He is 24, the same age as me...and very much a male....and much like straight men I know, although I think i have corrupted that in him ;-) Last thursday was interesting and what happened that night was something that I have seen in movies. I don't really think he can call himself straight again(at least not with a straight face). And all I have to say is WOW.

I was just thinking last night at dinner how absolutely progressive it was that I group up in a household where I had Studs Turkel's books at my fingertips.....My family might not have been radicals, but they definitely new where to put their politics.......

I am readding bell hook's Class Matters-- and it is soo profound. She is talking about Black elites...and I am thinking about Bill Cosby and his "pronouncements" on Black people. I think that someone should have told Bill that he should have had his ass down there in Cuba with Jesse Jackson.......

I love LAPC...and I love the progressive community in Lafayette...more and more I wonder if I should leave...or stay....god.... Good Luck to Mike and Beth!

I Love Earth, Wind, and Fire.....Please transport me back to the 80s.....Chicagofest in the summer time....beautiful music...dancing....a beautiful time.... I always wanted to be my cousin Freda...she was sooo chic, beautiful, fashion statement nonpar...I'll continue about her later...

Tonight's passover was great... I am soo totally jewish.....I have a penchant for things jewish--men,bagels, lox, barbra, klezmer, and kabbala.....

My politics---not a republican

I am: -14% Republican.

"The Marxists are too reactionary for you. With people like you around, America collectively thanks God for John Ashcroft."

Are You A Republican?

My Cousin Betty Wrote an Article about me

My Cousin Betty, the pulitzer prize nominated journalist wrote an article about me\-)

Detroit News

The Links

The Links really work now.

Last night was really charged and full of excitment and energy. Charles added sooo much to the flavor. Alas, I will not speak here about last night with Charles, at least not now, for fear of implicating myself. It was definitely a moment of exploration and discovery. Beautiful.

About Lafayette

These roads are much too narrow and the buses are always threatening to crash into something.

Letter Written to the Journal and Courier Concerning an article in the Purdue Exponent

This letter is written in response to an article that appeared in the Purdue Exponent. Since they are no longer taking submissions, I sent it here. Although, I rarely read that newspaper as I realize how uncouth it is, I did happen to pick up the Wednesday edition of the paper and proceeded to read Adam Hines' report of how "angry" "black" students held a forum at Purdue to protest certain issues. Although, I am quite sure this individual is quite in the dark concerning the racism that is reflected in the way in which he chose to report this event, I will state that YES we are angry and you will learn to RESPECT our anger.

Oh MY God!!!

Oh My God! I did it myself! The Goddamned Links work!!!

I really enjoyed class with Venetria--she is wonderful and I am glad her presence is available to us here at Purdue. God. This last class was wonderful too--and I very much decided with our discussion over Troy Maxson's infidelity that it was much better to concede the point than have a bunch of black women mad at me LOL. It has been a great experience. Thank You, Venetria.;-)

Now as to the forum yesterday.... I almost didnt like that white woman that moderated---whatever her name was--the former mayor. Firstly, they had Mildred sitting in the middle-- and then she skipped the hell over her to let the other white man on the panel speak before mildred did--OK. I was ready to go crazy. Anyway, I also observed that the dialogue was held mostly between the two white men on the panel--sitting on either side of Mildred--and they never directly addressed her. However, she did manage to make herself heard--and took over the conversation when she wanted to/needed to. I don't think that was a very progressive panel yesterday. I did make nice with the mayor lady (or rather she made nice with me) afterwards....but alas--- to have that kind of situation---and to skip over the BLack woman to let two white men speak oh no lord. That is something else. I know Mildred was probably thinking somewhere in the back of her mind that she should have stayed in Chicago.......

Germaine Greer! That name makes me almost as excited as that of Angela Davis! ;-) I would follow her everywhere she went.....

I just met this gorgeous-ass Black man in the library. Good lord. My mouth will not stop watering. I need a piece of chocolate......

I want to write more about Mildred and the forum yesterday. I observed some interesting things....that will come later...

I just ran into Rita in the hallway.... what a beautiful spirit. It is amazing--such a tall, beautiful flower growing in the middle of the desert. I hope she finds a job--in Chicago. I will definitely have to chat with her before the semester lets out....

Oh my god, no wonder people have been writing about Pope Benedict XVI so much lately-- this is a c onservative agenda that is threatening to take over the world.... I love waking up in the morning listening to NPR.....it clears my mind for what I hear. I wonder what Alice Walker and Angela Davis are thinking, doing in the midst of where the world is right now..... The progressive movement...... and the religious telecast yesterday--that thankfully I only heard about second-hand and did not see---and the call to worship bullshit yesterday(that Robert attended; I will corrupt him yet) It is definitely something to keep mindful of....

I just got back from the social security forum. It was quite good. I am so very glad I reconnected with Mildred and Beryl-- I need people like them in my life for sure. I am defintiely going to contact Mildred about working there in Chicago over the summer. Lord-progressive Black women who are from my part of town-- I couldn't ask for much more.And to think that Gary is in Indiana.......oh Beryl....

While I am on music... I will just ramble for a moment... I am in love with elipses I see. On "Wild is the Wind," I prefer Nina's version to Barbra's--Nina's is rich and deep and erotic-- with Barbra's- you can tell that she's sort of tired and annoyed with saying "wild is the wind"--and really doesn't give a shit about the song--sentiment: "please, this song is such bullshit, where is my $50,000?"

Love me love me love me
Say you do
Let me fly away
With you
For my love is like
The wind
And wild is the wind

Give me more
Than one caress
Satisfy this
Hungriness
Let the wind
Blow through your heart
For wild is the wind

You...
Touch me...
I hear the sound
Of mandolins
You...
Kiss me...
With your kiss
My life begins
You’re spring to me
All things
To me

Don’t you know you’re
Life itself
Like a leaf clings
To a tree
Oh my darling,
Cling to me
For we’re creatures
Of the wind
And wild is the wind
So wild is the wind

Wild is the wind
Wild is the wind


I also love Nina's Pirate Jenny


You people can watch while I'm scrubbing these floors
And I'm scrubbin' the floors while you're gawking
Maybe once ya tip me and it makes ya feel swell
In this crummy Southern town
In this crummy old hotel
But you'll never guess to who you're talkin'.
No. You couldn't ever guess to who you're talkin'.

Then one night there's a scream in the night
And you'll wonder who could that have been
And you see me kinda grinnin' while I'm scrubbin'
And you say, "What's she got to grin?"
I'll tell you.

There's a ship
The Black Freighter
with a skull on its masthead
will be coming in

You gentlemen can say, "Hey gal, finish them floors!
Get upstairs! What's wrong with you! Earn your keep here!
You toss me your tips
and look out to the ships
But I'm counting your heads
as I'm making the beds
Cuz there's nobody gonna sleep here, honey
Nobody
Nobody!

Then one night there's a scream in the night
And you say, "Who's that kicking up a row?"
And ya see me kinda starin' out the winda
And you say, "What's she got to stare at now?"
I'll tell ya.

There's a ship
The Black Freighter
turns around in the harbor
shootin' guns from her bow

Now
You gentlemen can wipe off that smile off your face
Cause every building in town is a flat one
This whole frickin' place will be down to the ground
Only this cheap hotel standing up safe and sound
And you yell, "Why do they spare that one?"
Yes.
That's what you say.
"Why do they spare that one?"

All the night through, through the noise and to-do
You wonder who is that person that lives up there?
And you see me stepping out in the morning
Looking nice with a ribbon in my hair

And the ship
The Black Freighter
runs a flag up its masthead
and a cheer rings the air

By noontime the dock
is a-swarmin' with men
comin' out from the ghostly freighter
They move in the shadows
where no one can see
And they're chainin' up people
and they're bringin' em to me
askin' me,
"Kill them NOW, or LATER?"
Askin' ME!
"Kill them now, or later?"

Noon by the clock
and so still by the dock
You can hear a foghorn miles away
And in that quiet of death
I'll say, "Right now.
Right now!"

Then they'll pile up the bodies
And I'll say,
"That'll learn ya!"

And the ship
The Black Freighter
disappears out to sea
And
on
it
is
me

While I am on music...I love Nina Simone...as I have stated. " The look of love is in your eyes, a look no smile can disguise...."

Barbra Streisand has made me absolutely crazy about "When Sunny Gets Blue." The first few bars of that piano at the opening of the song, right before she begins her song just send chills down my spine and send me over into another atmosphere......mmmmmmmm.....

Ok...perhaps tapes are becoming obselete and I need to switch wholly to CDs.....

Beginning of a Story

On the North end of Chelsea, out on the softer, more genteel side of the district-where the buildings had stone faces with sharp edges to them, there was a complex-- one Rivard Skyrise- which housed young, fairly affluent college students that can best be described as liberated and possessed with the fever of such freedom that oftentimes priests who lived nearby would comment that there abandon reflected the possession of the devil. The most notorious testament to this was the nightly shuttle bus that transported the young kids from the safety behind the gates of Rivard to the bustling night metropolis with its glaring red lights and blue haze mixed with the totalilty of black. On this bus, on the journey up the black asphalt streets to the nightclubs and loud music,it was renowned to be a journey of extasy and loose ends flowing freely, of wild and deep explorations into the carnal. It was a place where a girl wearing a blue and black polka-dot blouse could fornicate using a long string of black pearls that extended down to the floor. The bus was a place of sexual freedom and exploration, by kids who were not dumb, but who held certain political beliefs--who were young radicals and activists..that smoked pot and lifted things from expensive stores...and constantly smashed the statues of hero soldiers on campus in protest.....

The Best Feminist Statement I Have Heard

So. What is your feminism about?

Updated: Ok, here is my answer, pulled up from comments by popular demand:


In many ways, I suspect my feminism is fairly bourgeois. I don't want a revolution that doesn't allow me to dance, flirt, and buy shoes. On the other hand, my feminism is fairly absolute in that I will not allow myself (or others) to demonize "radical feminists" or to ignore poor women or women of color, and I object very strongly when I see women fighting with each other over crumbs. I'm sure I do it too, sometimes, but I try very hard not to. My feminism is material in the sense that I believe that the body is irreducible (more and more so, as I age, and more since becoming a mother). I do not believe that there are no differences between men and women; but I believe that what differences there are have been vastly exaggerated by social conditioning, and I reject essentialism. My feminism likes men, and is sympathetic to the ways that they, too, suffer from narrow definitions of gender. My feminism insists on being heard, and will not give up a fight, and will not back down. On the other hand, my feminism deplores unfairness, meanness, and insensitivity. I believe in principles, including the principle that people matter. I believe in forgiveness and second chances, and in teaching, and in learning; and I also believe in having high expectations and firm boundaries. My feminism is polemical but embraces ambiguities. My feminism is aggressive and protective.



# posted by bitchphd : 5:42 PM

Danny Weiss has a good band-- I love jazz and I love hearing it live(in my limited experience). One of these days I am going to chicago and going back to the Green Dolphin. God, tonight when they played "When Sunny Gets Blue," I was transported into a galaxy of pure extasy. I love that song---and the cymbals and the trill that man made....ahh me, how beautiful.

Barbra Streisand

Barbra is an activist,artist,diva, intellectual.... I will write about her later.
Meanwhile, check out her trtuh alerts and her articles of interests.

I love,adore, and absolutely just worship Barbra Streisand (was that strong enough?.) She has been MY icon ever since I was perhaps ten years old-and I have always wanted to be her , emulate her--god, me and Barbra Streisand. I don't remember which I saw first, Funny Girl or The Way We Were--but I do know that by the time The Back to Broadway Album came out in 1992 I was already a seasoned Streisand devotee.

Born April 24th, 1942 in Brooklyn, New York on Pulaski Avenue (and I am not looking up any of this any of this information), Barbra attended Erasmus Hall High School where she was a classmate of Neil Diamond (Mae West was a graduate as well) and graduate from High School at the age of 16. Her first Broadway effort was I Can Get It For You Wholesale in which she played Ms. Marmelstein. She was 19 when she had her first Broadway show. This woman is an incredible and amazing talent. She is the only person to have won all five major awards in the entertainment industry (the Oscar, the Emmy, the Grammy, the Tony, and the Golden Globe), she is the first woman ever to write, direct, star in, and produce her own film "Yentl," as well she held the record for the longest time for the youngest recipient of the Grammy(which she first won in 1963 for The Barbra Streisand Album, her first album) and the youngest winner for the Best Actress Academy Award (which she won in 1968 for her first film, Funny Girl). She was the second-highest box-office female of the 1960s (behind Liz Taylor) and the top box office champ as well as the top female singer of the 1970s. ALas, Barbra still remains the most successful female singer in history--having more Gold albums than any other artist male or female and more Platinum and MultiPlatinum albums than any other female artist. She is ranked number six on the best selling artists of all time list (and ALL of you Mariah Carey people better back off--its there to find--www.riaa.com). She is also the only artist to have a number one hit album in all of four decades- (the 60s,70s,80s,and 90s).

Barbra is magnificent. I don't have any favorites of Barbra--I love it all. I love Funny Girl--and I think what I love most about Barbra Streisand is her passion, her integrity, her intellectual curiosity, and her bold and incredible presence -"Don't tell me not to live, just sit and putter. Life's candy and the sun's a ball of butter." She is by far the most incredible force to reckoned with in Hollywood (that said, she is also the third wealthiest woman in the entertainment industry).AND she has never compromised on her principles--or her nose. She is a Jewish woman playing a white man's game--and she wins at it. All hail Barbra!

Nina Simone

1933-2003. God Bless Her Memory. The link in this title is a Review I wrote of her autobiography, I Put A Spell On You. I thought it was a fitting profile.




Some of my favorite songs by Nina include " Mississippi Goddamn" "Go To Hell" "Why? (Is The King of Love Dead)" --Oh, I just love Nina.

Elaine Brown

Elaine Brown

I love Elaine Brown, and have loved Elaine Brown ever since my most wonderful and dear, half-black, half-vietnamese Black panther radical friend, Wanda let me borrow a copy of her book, A Taste of Power: A Black Woman's Story. Elaine exudes a raw strength and integrity, and displays a certain kittenish sexuality that I liken to that of Gloria Steinem's. Born in Philadelphia, Elaine attended the prestigious Thaddeus Stevens School of Practice and Philadelphia High School for Girls, and then briefly attended Temple University majoring in journalism before making her way out to the west coast where she got her start working as a PlayBoy Bunny in one of the PlayBoy lounges.There she became the mistress of well-known writer,ex-FBI agent, and Kennedy cousin, Jay Kennedy--whom she credits with her education and budding political awareness as a woman of color.

In L.A., Brown became involved with the well-respected leftist newspaper and publication, Harambee. It is through her work with this paper that she became acquainted with and intimately involved with Huey P. Newton, one of the founders and the chairperson of the Black Panther Party. Elaine became a member of the Black Panther Party and quickly found herself in several key positions--inlcuding Chief Editor of the Black Panther Party newspaper, " The Black Panther-" which was the second best selling newspaper in the country during its heydey.

In 1974, after Huey P. Newston fled to Cuba, Elaine Brown became the chairperson of the Black Panther Party. In her book, she gives light to the affect that the Black Panther party had on state, national, and international levels-as it had chapters in at least thirty countries around the globe. She points to the social welfare programs started by the Party which were coopted by the federal government (such as the Free Lunch, Free Breakfast, and Headstart programs), all of the free clinics started and funded by the party-- and the fact that she--at the helm of the Black Panther Party--played a very big role in getting Jerry Brown elected governor of California and Lionel Wilson as mayor of Oakland, California. Elaine Brown left the Black Panther Party in 1977, relocating to France.

Elaine Brown is a beautiful, multi-talented spirit. Along with all of these activities, Brown is also a composer who composed several songs affiliated with the Black Power Movement. She is now a Phd, affliated with Morehouse College in Atlanta.

I should take the next few posts and detail some of the people that I admire, and provide a profile for them.

THe King's English

Excerpted from August Wilson's essay "The Ground on Which I Stand"-1998

....in the Webster's Third New Internation Dictionary

BLACK....outrageously wicked, dishonorable, connected with the devil, menacing, sullen,hostile,unqualified, illicit,illegal violators of public regulations, affected by some undesirable condition, etc.

WHITE...free from blemish, moral stain or impurity, outstandlingly righteous, innocent, not marked by malignant influence, notable auspicious, fortunate, decent, a sterling man.

Such is the linguistic environment that informs the distance that separates blacks and whites in American and which the cultural imperialists, who cannot imagine a life existing and even flourising outside their benevolent control, embrace.

I am halfway through August Wilson's "The Ground On Which I Stand," and what I have to say at this point is that I love August Wilson. I just saw someone being arrested. It was a white woman, I looked out of the window to see if it was someone of color--their is enough racism in this town. This police state and the White Male authority figure that it upholds....It made me think of Angela Davis-- I have thought about her experience of being captured by the FBI after that most glorious period of "Free Angela" being shouted across the world- and her position as a Black woman/of color--inside the police state. There have been many to suffer as such.... We hail her as a demi-god now--she is a most celebrated figure, but as Bettina Aptheker points out in her book--the threat against Angela was very real--if she had been convicted (by the all white, all male jury she faced in 1972)she could have faced the death penalty. It is the agony and the extasy that we admire...

Today is my nephew's birthday! HAPPY BIRTHDAY ALBIE!;-)

Memory

I was in Donna Joe Whitley's class....and I cried when we were reading about how white policemen killed a bunch of Slavic workers during coal miner's strike-- and and the people in the class tried to tell me that they were targeted not because they were Slavic, but because they were a "marginzalized group." I don't know if that is laughable or not.

Ok, I just spent the last twenty five minutes trying to figure out how to put links into my link section-- I must say I gave up in frustration.. However, I do want to say as well that I think it is a very interesting and useful tool---this coding...however, I think one needs to be ware of the computer culture.....It is technical, and not very humane...It should be a tool, not a way of life.

I am thinking now of the many faces that I can wear.....especially on gay.com. I am a writer--I make up characters all of the time. Alas, Just thinking of this in terms of Consciousness and Concsciousnesses---Susan once told me that I suffer from a triple consciousness which, I perhaps equate with what Cornel West calls a "the triple crisis of self-recognition." Alas, I even further see myself--and the expression of my identity--very much fully within the context of what Barbra stated on the Actor's Studio-- in terms of having a sensibility-- a sensitiveness which allows you to absorb different things from the world,to be aware of that which others don't pick up on.....This is what makes an artist for sure. Sally Field discusses the process that she goes through in preparing for a film as taking razor blades and scraping away at herself, leaving little bloody marks--through which she can absorb the character that she needs to inhabit. I think this is an interesting discussion of the idea of consciousness, the nature of Consciousness, and how people choose to identify themselves.... Identity politics...and the nature of the political......

The Crazy Black Nigger is something that scares white people to death. God, Malcolm X is our beloved.... I will continue that train of thought later. But alas, that which does not fit into what is "white normal" scares the people in the power structure shitless....

I wanted to write about retirement teas. I have been to quite a few in my time. When I was little, they were an elegant fare-- semi-formal with old ladies that smelled of Estee Lauder and other perfumes. They were great. I also remember a tea that my Aunt Bea gave once. Aunt Bea was Aun't Carolyn's sister, who was Uncle Arhcie's wife. It was the most elegant fare I had witnessed-- and still leaves quite an impression on me. She held it at her house--which was an elegant old house with wooden paneling, soft drapery, and plenty of sunlight. The food was excellent, and the china, crystal, and silver which we used were incredibly ornate. I remember she w as a wonderful and gracious hostess... A beautiful memory....

Link to my gay.com profile

Pierre_Tascher_02

There are several things I need to learn--patience is one of them. I have a strong endurance, and when I was a child I think I was somewhat patient--but I am at my string's end. This system has got to end... Alas, I haven't blogged and I want to, need to, about Adrian. Adrian is a beautiful girl-- light-skinned, real down home Black girl-from Detroit. When she walked into the library and we bonded, it was a beautiful thing. Her story of her experiences as a graduate student here at this school is one that reminisces with not only me, but every other Black graduate student that I know at this university. The psychic stress of being of color in a predominantly white AND Racist environment (which, I won't hesitate to say is inherently tied to its conservativism)is something that is harrowing and can kill you if you let it. And one needs to talk about it and share stories and experiences. bell hooks talks talks more explicitly about it than any other Black academic/intellectual that I have encountered thus far--and she speaks to the many, many men and women of color who have given up or altogether avoided institutions of higher education because of their racism.... THIS MUST STOP! I dont care what it takes and I dont care what it entails, but this white male power structure has got to go! Not one more generation of "Othered" peoples should have to experience this.... and they ask why people of color don't go into higher education at the same rates as others? and I am sure the same is for Latinos and asians. I look at my own family-- most of my aunts and uncles have advanced degrees--my grandmother worked on her masters, but had a nervous breakdown the year before my mother was born. I refuse to let it happen to me.....

One given-- I am not here to make you comfortable.

God-- The Yelp I Gave! I am over run with palpitations! Elaine Brown is COMING to CAMPUS AHHH GOOD !!!!!!!! I can die a little bit happy now.

My family tree-not complete

I want to write, before I forget, and in case i am in need of something other than my memory. The children of my great grandfather, John Archie, and his wife Sadie Mae are Earnestine, Bertie,Thelma(my grandmother),Johnnie, Sadie, Gladys (Betty), Lawrence, and Archie. DeRamus and Goodson combined, John Archie Bradson DeRamus and Sadie Mae Goodson.I was telling Clara this morning about my Uncle Fess, my Aunt Bertie's husband, who was principle of Autaugaville High School for approximately fifty years. In my grandmother's and my Uncle Lawrence's time, when they were in school-e the number of Doctors and Lawyers, and people with advanced degrees came out of their classes---this is all due to Fess. The name of "Fess" Sterling James McDavid, is one that is revered in Autauga County....That said, I had two Fess's. Fess McDavid and then my great grandmother's brother, Fess Goodson--Macaulay Ware. McDavid's first wife was named Mary Foster McDavid, and like he was to my aunt, she was several years his senior.My grandmother loves to mock her. She says that when she would introduce herself in public she would state "My name is Mrs. Mary Foster McDavid, the first Negro woman president of the National PTA, the State Supervisor ofthe JEAN Teacher's Association, and the first Negro womam from the state of Alabama to sing with Wings Over Jordan through the National Hookup."A four line introduction.-)They had a school named for her in Montgomery, but it was torn down in the late 80s or early 90s. For those, my relatives perhaps, that are interested... I found her online....
http://www.pta.org/aboutpta/history/mile1930.asp
The link is also in the title... Ehh, computers.

Peace Be to All

It's a beautiful morning out. I have felt the need for the past few days to describe and write about my uncle's house. My favorite part of this house was the single room up the backstairs, off of the kitchen--wooden stairs and room with a bright, sunny view on every side--onto the street and the backyard. It also has it's own private bathroom. I often imagined that it was a former slave quarters--and the little secret passageway that connected it to the other set of stairs in the main part of the house was a place where slaves hid, their own private escape. My sister scared the shit out of me once with this passageway. She was always the one to discover the hidden things.... I don't even remember going through the passageway-- I did go into the closet. This beautiful, antebellum-esque structure, even though I believe it wasn't built until the 1920s sparked my imagination and was definitely a place where I could rest,relax, find peace, and ease into my own selfhood and mind. There is nothing better than sitting out in my unc;es garden, in his wooden gazebo surrounded by tall trees that covered the sun, and flowers growing from every limb and out of the ground...It is beautiful and I want to be back there right now. To lie in the middle of his gazebo and feel the air hitting my face and feel my skin get flushed and tingle with the blowing of the wind, with flowers in my hands and books strewn about.....

Gateway Coupons Gateway Computers

Read my opinions on epinions.... http://www.epinions.com/user-pierretascher

Tonight, I want to talk about Deconstruction (how sweet it is). And how Deconstruction is a tool that can help us lead ourselves towards self-discovery and liberation. ( I am glad that I have gotten to the point where I can start a sentence with and). I want to educate tonight--not teach a lesson-but educate, inform, and inspire. Let's look at the word "civilized." What does it mean? And what are we inferring when we call something "civilized"? What is a civilized nation? The "rules of civilization." Often people think of Western Civilization, and ideas of advancement and culture. The word civil means peace.....hence, Civilization... If you think of this society that we live in--the United States--in that context--what is civil-ized about it? And when we uphold it as a beakon of civilization--or when we adhere to the standards and codes of civilization, what are we upholding? What is it that we have invested or that we are trying to protect when defend or adhere to the way in which this society operates?

After viewing a threat on www.feministe.us about racism, I decided to blog one of my own experiences with race at Purdue. One of my very first experiences-not with racism, but with the unprogressiveness that is inherently characteristic of Purdue. Alas, it speaks quite a bit more as well to where we have to go as Afr0-Americans in order to develop our integrity to its fullest extent.

In my first class here at Purdue, American Studies 601, we, unfortunately, partook of Mark Twain's Huckleberry Finn which I have no interests in and, in my estimation, is wholly given too much attention as a piece of literature. I have no interests in reading about some little boy floating down a river on a raft.

With this in mind, I went into this (what turned out to be) three week discussion concerning the book prepared for the longhaul of boredom. However, what it turned into was a three week discussion of the word Nigger.

Now, at first, I didn't say much at all--as I have nothing to say really about Huckleberry Finn and the words that Twain uses in the book matter very little to me because of that. However, the situation developed on perhaps the third of fourth class session spent on this book that other Blacks in the class were becoming sensitive to the discussion-mind you at this point in time the word nigger had been uttered at least three times out of most of the mouths in that room.
What happened next was an attempt at censorship--which wasn't so much a "Please, could we refrain from using that word," but a verbal beating of the people in the class (white) who were using the term.

Kurt, I don't think he will mind me using his name-- was telling about the way in which he addressed the usage of the word when he previously had taught the book--having taught High School English for about twenty years perhaps. At this point, one of my fellow black classmates lit into him and verbally chastised him for using the word--in a very authoritative and abusive manner. Alas, after this discussion continued for a little while--a couple of my classmates--one white girl (Stacy) and one jewish girl broke into tears-- I suppose feeling something towards white guilt. Mhm. Well, ok, whatever. But alas, I didn't think it was wholly progressive to censor anything-- and as the situation became such that people were afraid to utter the word in the class-- I dared to utter it. And not only utter it-- but I began to ask my fellow black classmates--why would you attempt to censor this word? I pointed them in the direction of the lines of Sonia Sanchez's poem "Nigger you say? That word ain't shit to me man.... I will even spell it for you-- N-I-G-G-E-R. You are way behind the set....."

And alas, not only that--but being a writer I know the power of words--but I wanted to point to them that it was not good or productive to spend one's time trying to ask white people to not call you a nigger. I think it is absolutely awful, amazing, and ridiculous that the rhetoric coming out of the Black community in terms of this power structure and the ways in which they are caught in it is "You can shoot me in the streets, you can disenfranchise me, you can determine where I can and cannot work and can and cannot live, but please oh please don't call me a Nigger." My repsonse is that as long as you continue to allow these people to walk over you---you are the Nigger. When Black people as a whole--not even thinking about this country---come into their Integrity and their Self-Respect and start to take control of their own lives and start demanding that the power structure deal with them on their own terms....then that will be a great day.

As an afterthought, they say that the man that ran the cotton used to say of my great great grandfather , when he would take his cotton to the market to sell- "You hurry up and you get Morgan Goodson out of here, and you make sure his accounts is right, because he is a crazy nigger and you dont know just what he might do." I think that was quite a good thing.

I want to write about my connection to the feminist spirit. Beyond my feminine soul (which bears little marking of the male body which it is in), I am deeply rooted within a strong, woman-centered background. Alongside my matrileneal lineage(hence the fact that I identify myself with my mother's mother's family- I made my father mad once when I told him that I wanted to change my name to DeRamus) I have a direct line of human connection to the great spirits of Audre Lorde and Adrienne Rich (whom I wish to meet- I will get to Chicago AND spend the night with Peter) through Mab Segrest, who is alumna at my Alma Mater and who is the protege of these two spirits. Mab paid me one of the greatest compliments I have ever recieved..... Also, my very real and personal bond with Cella, Dr. Gray, and Greg (also a feminine spirit) form the core of my awareness and consciousness in a wholly political context. They are the lights through which I see.

When I was little, as I rode the bus to school every morning, I used to imagine I saw my ancestors standing outside of the windows waving at me and welcoming me along the way to school each morning. Especially when I went to Autaugaville. Their smiling faces greeted me each morning. Like Alice, I communicate with my ancestors.

This poem is my Mantra. I remember when I first read this poem. I was a sophomore in college and I was sitting in Greg's class (the god of all gods), which was our Justice seminar, and he asked if I would read it. I did--having not read it before, and I loved it. I immediately took it back to my room and called my friend Rebecca who came down and we read it together--and cried and howled over it. It has been one of the most inspiring and defining pieces that I have ever encountered.

June Jordan: Poem About My Rights
http://www.ocf.berkeley.edu/~micmag/issue1/poemaboutmyrights.php



Even tonight and I need to take a walk and clear
my head about this poem about why I can't
go out without changing my clothes my shoes
my body posture my gender identity my age
my status as a woman alone in the evening/
alone on the streets/alone not being the point/
the point being that I can't do what I want
to do with my own body because I am the wrong
sex the wrong age the wrong skin and
suppose it was not here in the city but down on the beach/
or far into the woods and I wanted to go
there by myself thinking about God/or thinking
about children or thinking about the world/all of it
disclosed by the stars and the silence;
I could not go and I could not think and i could not
stay there
alone
as I need to be
alone because I can't do what I want to do with my
own
body
and who in the hell set things up
like this
and in France they say if a guy penetrates
but does not ejaculate the he did not rape me
and if after stabbing him and if after screams if
after begging the bastard and if even after smashing
a hammer to his head if even after that
he and his buddies fuck me after that
then I consented and there was
no rape because finally you understand finally
they fucked me over because I was wrong I was
wrong again to be me being me where I was/wrong
to be who I amwhich is exactly like South Africa
penetrating into Namibia penetrating into
Angola and does that mean I mean how do you know if
Pretoria ejaculates
what will the evidence look like the proof of the monster jackboot ejaculation on Blackland
and if after Namibia and if after angola and if after Zimbabwe
and if after all my kinsmen and women resist even to
self-immolation of the villages and if after thatwe lose nevertheless what will the big boys say will they
claim my consent:Do You Follow Me: We are the wrong people ofthe wrong skin on the wrong continent and what in the hell is everybody being so reasonable about
and according to the Times this week
back in 1966 the C.I.A. decided that they had this problem
and the problem was a man named Nkrumah so theykilled him and before that it was Patrice Lumumba
and before that it was my father on the campus
of my Ivy League school and my father afraid
to walk into the cafeteria because he said he
was wrong the wrong age the wrong skin and wrong
gender identity and he was paying my tuition andbefore that
it was my father saying I was wrong say that
I should have been a boy because he wanted one/aboy and that I should have been lighter skinned andthat I should have had straighter hair and that
I should not be so boy crazy but instead I should
just be one/a boy and before that
it was my mother pleading plastic surgery for
my nose and braces for my teeth and telling me
to let the books loose to let them loose in otherwords
I am very familiar with the problems of the C.I.A.
and the problems of South Africa and the problems
of Exxon Corporation and the problems of white
America in general and the problems of the teachers
and the preachers and the F.B.I. and the socialworkers and my particular Mom and Dad/I am very familiar with the problems because the problems
turn out to be
meI am the history of rape
I am the history of the rejection of
who I am
I am the history of the terrorized incarceration of
my self
I am the history of battery assault and limitless
armies against whatever I want to do with my mind
and my body and my soul and whether it's about walking out at night
or whether it's about the love I feel or
whether it's about the sanctity of my vagina or
the sanctity of my national boundariesor the sanctity of my leaders or the sanctity
of each and every desire
that I know from my personal and idiosyncratic
and indisputably single and singular heartI have been raped
be-cause I have been wrong the wrong sex the wrong age the wrong skin the wrong nose the wrong hair the wrong need the wrong dream
the wrong geographic
the wrong satorial
I have been the meaning of rape
I have been the problem everyone seeks to
eliminate by forced penetration with or without the evidence of slime and/but let this be unmistakable this poem
is not consent I do not consent to my mother to my father to the teachers to
the F.B.I to South africa to Bedford-Stuy
to Park Avenue to American Airlines to the hardon idlers on the corners to the sneaky creeps in
cars
I am not wrong: Wrong is not my name
My name is my own my own my own
and I can't tell you who in the hell set things up like this
but I can tell you that from now on my resistence
my simple and daily and nightly self-determination
may very well cost you your life

Yesterday I went to Sophia's birthday party (Zoiya's little girl) and I sat there at the table and was awed and intrigued by some of the things that I saw. Mexicans have long, rich, and beautiful hair. I knew this before, but I will say now that I have a renewed appreciation for it after I observed it yesterday. It is an Indian trait. It put me in mind of my grandmother and her sisters. All of them had long and beautiful hair. My Aunt Earnestine's hair flowed all the way down her back, almost to her thighs, even at eighty years old. When they were younger, the DeRamus girls were something to see. To be a Deramus, one of "them thar things" as they say, was to be something. The Deramuses are a beautiful people. Beautiful, educated, and always presumed to have money. This is not the case. I will continue that thought....

Josh told me that I was beyond the pale.... Ha!.... I certainly am. Anyway, my thesis is going well...I have to do some revisions (not that major, but still work). I am going to focus my energies into getting this done while I let my class work on their project. I am so glad I have two weeks.....

It is interesting...I am just now thinking about the sucession and continuum of my papers.....my ZitKala Sa paper for little swedish lady--I cant remember her name-- Melissa Holmstead-- turnedinto my thesis on DuBOis--- my archival paper turned into my masters thesis......interesting continuums......

I am now an official review writer for TippC. I think its a start. I'll be Alice Walker next.;-)

To build on my previous thought about preserving my heritage. I need to start writing, seriously and in a sustained manner, about my heritage. It is not just for me, but for the future. For those who will come after me. Others may benefit from it as well. My roots are long and rich and grow strong, they are firmly planted and that is what gives me my sense of self and my understanding of where I am and where I need to be. The many varied aspects to my existence are all steered towards the vortex which is my legacy. My great-great grandmother's face beckons me. Calls out to me-- I must do what I was sent here to do. I have a purpose, I have to fullfil it. when opportunity breaks it is the greatest feeling in the world, however when it is closed and there is no possibility in sight one can dip down into the uttermost despair. There is always light and one must be patient while wanting to see it, and always remember to breathe. The rich iron ore color of skin which is the norm amongst my relatives (the Deramuses, children of John Archie that is, even though attributable to my Goodson forbears) is the wisdom of their souls playing out into their physical bodies. My skin, the wealth of its color, the naturaleness of my hair--are what is instilled in me by my ancestors. My uncle lawrence was darker- his skin was a rich soot color that hinted red- like the soil that grows beautiful crops and that provided harvest for my ancestors and my family. I am swallowed whole by my legacy. I ama left at peace in the knowledge of who I am and what I need to be, sucking the nutrients that sustain me from roots that are firmly planted in the ground.

It is a nice light rain outside. It feels good. I feel at peace. On days like this and at times like this one--with the air circulating freely,surrounding me and bringing me peace and joy within my body, I feel and try to take myself, in my mind as if I am back at my uncle's house sitting in his gazebo, the rough wood against my skin and the wind against my face as I sit or lie down, transposed. My uncles face was beautiful. And so jovial, he always carried a smile in his eyes and was a most beautiful man. I miss him a lot. I love him very much. I want his spirit to embrace me.

Song from a Broadway show

there's a fine, fine line between a lover and a friend;there's a fine, fine line between reality and pretend;And you never know 'til you reach the top if it was worth the uphill climb. There's a fine, fine line between love and a waste of time. There's a fine, fine line between a fairy tale and a lie; and there's a fine, fine line between "you're wonderful", and "goodbye." I guess if somone doesn't love you back, it isn't such a crime, but there's a fine, fine line between love and a waste of your time. and i don't have the time to waste on you anymore. I dont think that you even know what you're looking for. for my own sanity i've got to close the door and walk away... There's a fine, fine line between together and not. And there's a fine, fine line, between what you wanted and what you got. You gotta go after the things you want while you're still in your prime.. There's a fine, fine line between love and a waste of time.

Personal Journey/ Writing My Soul

It is interesting that as my friendship with Josh ended that I ran into Joshua- on the next day. Fate is a wonderous entity. And that he was partaking in some sort of activism is really quite interesting. It was as if I needed to reconnect with him and hear his soft Louisiana drawl. We really havent hung out since Christmas, but we have had dinner once or twice since then. I am through with Josh. As Cecily says, you need to deal with wonderbread on a need-to basis. It does leave me a bit sad, but I am living and I think I am grounded and at peace where I need to be. Speak the word of the Strange, of the Weird (beautiful Greek and Norweigan words), "Wrong is not my name."

Tonight I had dinner with the Indonesians..... all of this for the sake of one boy. It is really something how you can be surrounded by people and not want to be there. The conversation was nice, pathetic, but nice. Patti is a bit flaky and smiles a lot. God I wish I were elsewhere. Angela? Alice? Where are you? I am tired of this....and the company is not what I want. I do not see what I want and therefore I don't want anything. To bring up Alice Walker ... "Expect Nothing. Live frugally on surprise..." I have expected too much of people sometimes....I have held the belief that everyone has and should want something to live for.... and should actually give a shit about the world. Ah me, such is life. I will get what I want, come hell or high water. I have the gall, the gumption, and the want to of Joan Crawford and Barbra Streisand combined.

Joe is really sweet.... I will see where it goes with him.....

The Rules

When I first came to Purdue, several of my colleagues informed me of the "rules" and how I must comply with them.

The Rules
I will not comply
with the rules
I will not suffer
the rules will make the world
hard as wood and diabetic
the whipping tree that cannot bleed
Abhor the rules and Iwill dedicate my life to living
freely.....

Song that I Wrote

You don't know what you feel
You don;t even feel what you know
Just make your existence real
live like the water and flow....
Love is like a creation
the earth is ripe for growth
inspire the blossoms to grow.....

My aunt just sent me the photos of my great-great grandmother, great-great grandfather and two of their daughters and I am very emotional. I have seen these photographs all of my life, but now they have some kind of affect on me. I have always been in awe ofthem and held them in reverence as I quite well understood the integrity, the beauty, and the spirit of my ancestors and the legacy that they left behind. I want to preserve them and I want to make a collection of all of that which was left behind for my generation to benefit from. From the time I crawled into aunt Earnestine's room after her death and collected the photographs she had stored there, I feel I can't let any part of my heritage out of my hands. I have to preserve it, I have to make sure that they are kept sacred and holy. To my ancestors--Thanks,

Thoughts WHile Watching the Color Purple for the Umteenth Billionth Time-- With Robert, before, and after.

What would it have taken for Celie to have taken that razor and sliced Mr's throat? Would it have been wrong of her? I hate that word.

One Similarity between Black and Jewish culture is that they are as violent as their white paternity.....
Maybe this film taught me to feel restricted.....more like it it exposed the violence and the vileness that exists within patriarchal systems....including that of the black community.

The violentce of Black Middle Class existence is unbearable.

As her fingers caress the delicate orange taffet on her shoulder......

I must tell Rebecca that I did what I told her I could not do. I sat through a service with a bunch of religious people and kept my cool. I don't know how well I "infiltrated" but at least I sat there and didnt make myself (that) noticeable. Perhaps I could join her and Trish on an escapade to infiltrate the religious right. The whole passion of crhist passion play nouveau damnation speech was fairly entertaining, and I felt just a tad bit amused and able to laugh and not fall asleep. I deserve a reward and some kudos for this. I am starting to watch The Color Purple tonight, for the umpteenth billionth time in my life. Celie is a Black Woman with pain and the undergirth of her suffering is shown in that pain. And her wisdom. Celie is strong though her skin is human and she bleeds. She is not leather, none of us are. Tonight with Robert has been fun, although I am not much for his religious stuff at least I was out, with him. Alas, when he comes over tonight we shall see. Ahem. Anyway. Im off to write my letters/emails to contacts that I should be making. Ciao. ... Interesting I write this in the form of a letter-- it's alice's influence.

Stew is interesting. We have started over Giovanni's Room and the way in which our relationship has progressed is totally queer, even if not romantic or sexual or otherwise. He is a pretty interesting boy, totally not like anything that I would ever pursue, but sometimes you just take what falls into your lap. It will be interesting to see where this goes. Tread the waters lightly.......

Wonderful News from Seattle!!

This is a wonderful bit of news from antiwar activists in Seattle!

I am really excited to learn more about this conference that is happening in Venezuela this summer. I want to go! I was really very glad to encounter Zach G and Dex again ( I know I have met Zach somewhere before). Charity is so inspiring! I think she is beautiful, and the grace that she earned in her six months in prison truly show through. She knows what it is to be in the mix of fighting for a cause. She moves with a more graceful step. I can't figure out what to make of the hand play that went on between myself and Matt --there was certainly some kind of connection, but I think he didnt want to pursue it as I don't live anywhere near him. He was very cute though... and very attentive. It made me really sad to talk to Dr. Szpiech today. The world is unfair. How is it that she, such a wonderful, progressive intellectual is suffering as she is? At least let her have enough money to take care of herself. I hate I havent kept in touch with her, but I am glad our friendship is renewed. I feel like crying too much....the flood would never end.

The summit and rally this weekend were quite amazing! Despite the freezing temperatures and my sore throat and sniffles-- we had an amazing weekend and I feel oh so inspired by the connections that I made and the people that I got a chance to bond with, the feeling was amazing. Standing in solidarity with my brothers and sisters and demanding that the walls of the empire fall! Michael Parenti was an excellent speaker, and he totally cleared my thinking on a lot of things...which previously had been located in terms of undertanding...right outside of my periphery. I am ready to get things started with these initiatives.. My next few posts, when I have the energy...will be autobiographical.

I am sick with hayfever tonight...... I am sick.....ehh. I am sick and bored with monotony and tired of humdrum. I feel a bit trapped without being able to move about as I please, when I please. At times, in Lafayette, I have felt like a well kept harem girl- specifically when I lived at the lodge, and when I used to sit in their shelter and wait for the bus to arrive every morning. I need to feel free to breathe, to expand my lungs. I met two absolutely gorgeous latino men today, Charles is by far the lovelier-- and I got his phone number. I tell you, when I was typing on my thesis earlier I was almost drugged out of my head-- by whatever bug this is I have. Ack. Dinner tonight was very good, and Candace is a trip and no I didn't leave a tip;-) I am the last of the jewish tippers. I am very glad for her and Jason-- he is hot and I would want him for myself if he turned the other way. Oh well, I am going to end this .

March 15,2005

Today I had a wonderful day. I had lunch with Josh and came home after watching a movie in Heavilon hall. I turned on my music and let the thoughts run through my head..... I have been very scared and operating out of fear for a lot of my life and it is time to make some changes. My creativity has always been with me, but at times both it and me have been trapped in a black hole.I dedicate my life to truth, to telling the truth, and to loving and caring those that I love and care about and the world and the universe to its fullest extent. Other than that, I felt much better after dancing around for half an hour and even came up with some new, innovative things...such as my ballet of the three chairs....;-) Set to the tune of "Make it Like a Memory." I will commit myself to writing at least to pages on my thesis tonight. Sarchophage. Imperfection is perfection...it is the body that counts. I take that thought and those words (partially) from Francois Trauffaut, indirectly through Barbra Streisand. I will no longer fear I will live with my imperfections. I will live, and breathe, purely and simply.

To want something and then to have ideals....is to suffer. I'll finish this thought later.

This is to my reviews on epinions.

http://www.epinions.com/user-pierretascher

OK...... I just got through watching Raintree County and all I have to say is "what the hell?....." All in all, it was an enjoyable film and I love Liz Taylor for being so bold as to take on the part of a potentially colored woman who is not only, but who is also crazy ( I tell you the way that the color issue is so neatly resolved in this film doesnt sit well with me at all). It truly shows her spirit and shows her to be a woman made of moxy. I wonder who she was connected with in Hollywood back then to make such a film--and as I know this is not the only politically conscious film that she made at that time I do wonder as well how the studios allowed her, recruited, or permitted her to make such films given the nature of the Hollywood Studios at the time. I think she must have had some power back then, which I am sure of (but to get to choose a film, and like this one?). The million-dollar breaker definitely has left her mark on Hollywood. Cheers, Liz!

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-)

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.....

I am absolutely awful. LOL. " Hey there.....what was your name? Ryan?" "Nick." (I knew it was one of those white boy names)...... I am really really awful. lol. However, he is cute. I should be more attentive to people.

Today I am thinking about my family, or more so my heritage. My heritage and my position as a DeRamus and a Goodson and the legacy that both of those things bring to me. I am privileged, and it is a mixed blessing, sometimes absolutely confining. My ancestors bring me strength......

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.]

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.....

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.......

Today was really interesting. I missed the last bus back to Willowbrook, so I spent a couple of hours on the phone trying to find a ride back home, and finally ended up getting Sheila to take me home. The MHN callout was very interesting. Carlos seemed very disturbed or emotional when he began speaking about what Marxist-Humanism was and how it fit onto Purdue's campus. I am sure he sensed or was unsure of the political inclination of his audience.....which I sensed was more conservative than either he or I- especially considering the answers they were calling out to his provocations. I was really suprised, but shouldnt have been I suppose when JC showed up. He is quite cute and I definitely have taken a liking to him....but I take a liking to any man that I can talk to for more than two minutes these days. I may have let on...or been obvious aobut it tonight as well. I usually am. I hope he comes over for dinner sometime. I had a four hour lunch with Dr. Dorsey today, it was great and I of course love Dr. Dorsey to death. He is my cornerstone here at Purdue. he has definitely been that--he along with Dr. Williams- that has kept me sane and grounded for three semesters. I met Jorge today, he is interesting, very cute, and intriguing. I would love to chat with him more. I sent him an email. Dr. Dorsey's conversation was very enlightening and shed some light to me about the goings on of academia. I wonder what he has to say about Angela Davis...... There are two little white girls behind me (college students) who are having a private conversation...and what I hear definitely sounds like what they are....little white girls. I was thinking today about my experiences at Huntingdon. Huntingdon College was defintiely a blessing in disguise for me. We did have such great people there guiding us, modling us, and who left their indelible mark upon me ( and Rebecca, but Ill let her speak for herself. I am of the utmost debt to Greg Salyer, Chella Courington, Cecile Gray, Dr. Deal, Maureen Murphy, Jane Williams, mmmm., Kim Szpiech, and a couple of others who worked effortlessly, and tirelessly to create an intellectually stimulating, growth stimulating, warm, and loving environment. Greg and Chella were the rocks I stood on. My memories of Huntingdon College were fond and fabulous. It was definitely a progressive environment ( at least in our little web) and one that I will always and forever cherish. To think back on it now, I cant believe, and it is amazing that I was introduced in my freshmem year of college to Feminist theory...to Helene Cixous and Julie Kristeva...god....I am so greatful to Chella. I gained my intellectual bearings at Huntingdon College. Greg Salyer challenged me, accepted me, tolerated my tendencies, yet forced me to be more open than I was and am. I am forever greatful for those lessons. Dr. Deal provided stimulation, structure, and guidance....a father figure. Jane Williams was our mother hen..taking us out to lunch and dinner always....and providing us with a wonderful love and tenderness. Susan Koppelman has also been a wonderful mentor to me....even vicariously. I look forward to meeting her. I am the grateful beneficiary of her wisdom, advise, goading, and chastisement. I am surrounded and connected to the most wonderful, established, and giant figures that I can imagine. Susan, ....... who taught the first Women's Studies Course in the country, Mab- who paid me the greatest compliment I have ever recieved....she told me that I reminded her most of herself while she was at Huntingdon College. Chella.....Greg...... My cousin Betty, the pulitzer prize nominated Journalist who interacted with my Uncle Lawrence.
I am more than

Friday was a beautiful day for me in two ways. Firstly, I heard the Brown sisters speak, they were powerful, they were poetic, and they spoke the truth. In Cheryl Brown Henderson, I found a feww soul sister, a warrior for the cause of justice who is bold, beautiful, and unafraid (or perhaps afraid not) to speak the truth to power and imagine a new world where there is equality and justice for people of color and all other oppressed as well. I neded to hear her speak that night. Her words were like salve to my soul and were a reaffirmation of the fact that what I was doing was right. I care about people and about justice and I care about seeing the basic needs of each and every member of a society are meet. I would like to live my life accordingly to this. The second reason why Friday was such a good day was because I happened upon a man again hat I had very much attracted to. I had happened upon him three times, all three b y accident. Thie first time we meet, we were at the bust depot waiting for the bus, and I spotted him and we started chatting, primarily about what I was studying and what I was interested in, and soon the conversation moved to my proposed topic of study, Double Consciousness. We talked for a long while. I gave him my number and he promised to call or look me up, as he had no phone. The second time was the other day while I was tabling he passed and then stopped by on his way to the library,and then the third time was that evening when he popped into the compuer ab that I was using there in the Union. H e was fabulous, and I had known that he had been in a bad situation, as he had lost his place to live, had no phone and no job at all- all of this after having graduated from Purdue. He was really sweet
and really beautiful, and that night, after we had watched the Brown sisters speak in Fowler Hall, he made me admit to him that I was into him. He was beautiful, and we spoke and had great conversation after that, yet he refused to tell me whether he liked me as well or whether he was gay or not. We did talk a long time, yet he never let on to whether he dug me or not, and wouldnt either refuse or accept my offer to kiss him while riding the bus. He promised to contact me, however he didnt know when because he had been evicted and was being forced to move the next day(god what a horrid system).When he lifted his hat and placed it back on his head and turned to walk the forty minutes it took him to get downtown and then to his home, I was at peace and new that I had been touched that day and that what he had given me was worth more than most anything I could possibly have, even if I never saw him again.

I havent worked on this blog much in the past year. I could say that a lot has been going on, especially when it really hasnt. I have been going to school , (even though that doesnt occupy more than half of my time or a third of my energy) or I could say that I am not technologically inclined and for some reason as well I have been mistrustful of placing my feelings and thoughts into the written record , I dont know why but something has prevented me from doing that and I need to shop this force from undertaking me. i need to get back into the writing mode, I need to free my dried up creative juices and explore the world newly invigorated.

Isn't it quite an irony that Strom Thurmond, the worst son of a bitch in thie history of mankind, died on the same day that the Supreme Court struck down sodomy laws? I think that God may be laughing down on us right about now. Perhaps he was a closet homosexual? He certainly had something to say about it all the time. He probably was black as well...He was southern and a racist....the perfect makeup of person passing for white......