I find it utterly dumbfounded that the U.S. media and political groups around the country (although I say use what you will, have at it)are using the "women need to be protected" model as their new jumping ground for ending the war. I hope it is effective, but it stirs some odd and perhaps negative feelings towards it in me. One thing that I have always commended the Israeli army for is its inclusion of women equally in its armed forces(even though the Israeli military power structure, such the same as the US's, is evil). However, I think it will only be to the detriment of the United States to try and prop women back up on the (enslaving) pedestal that women have suffered under for so long. I feel a great deal of love, admiration, and respect for the beautiful and brave women in Vietnam who, as Jane Fonda states, were such good fighters when the time came, and of the women of Iraq who are fighting in their own ways to live each day with the presence of unending violence and U.S. imperialism.

I think that open relationships require a level of honesty that few are able to obtain. I believe that there should never be any possession in any relationship and that people should be free to move about as they please, however I believe that the utmost honesty is required for the integrity of such a relationship to remain intact.

The state of Virginia has decided that it wants to send those Blacks who were denied an education AFTER the end of segregated schooling, during the five years that they closed public schools, a chance to finish their educations and go to college. But they don't want to extend this to their descendants-- SO AS NOT TO BE SEEN AS AN ATTEMPT AT REPARATIONS. White men need to be castrated. Thats all there is to it. Power needs to be wrangled out of their hands and really their penises should be severed from their bodies, then we would have no more problems- at least from them. It puts me in the mind of Nikki Giovanni's poem in which she states something to the effect " Oppression by bell-bottoms would be ideal,and yea let's take it on down, Oppression by Diana Ross leaving the supremes would be most ideal since I wouldn't have nothing to deal with til the Mafia took over Motown, but Im hear to say that I am oppressed by crackers, and that's all I have to deal with." Alas, this power structure will be brought down and we will live in full recognition of our freedom, dignity, and integrity.

Why is the NAACP choosing a business leader to head its organization? Why isn't Merlie Evers-Williams the head? The NAACP needs to do two things pertinently. One: Stop acting like a business-- you are a civil rights organization and need to act accordingly and that would require Two: Getting rid of phallocentrism! That also means stop trying to pander to white business leaders and/or political leaders and also start doing some FUNDAMENTAL grassroots organization. The NAACP, if it had done like it should--could have been doing the work of the SCLC and the NAACP all along....It has to stop being the big lobbyist and become a champion for human rights....

I liked what I wrote

I very much have to disagree with your pronouncement of Radical Feminism. bell hooks describes herself as a radical feiminst. And true that there are some that are labeled as radical feminists by those outside of feminism--for whatever that is worth-- but I think that true, fundamental radical feminism and radical feminists, like dear sister bell are those who aren't satisfied with gaining a foothold in the current power structure, but who wish to see fundamental, radical, structural change in society..... Radical Feminist include myself;-), Angela Davis, bell hooks, Jane Fonda, Alice Walker, oh I very much believe Gloria Steinem, Germaine Greer, god so many to name. But alas, radical feminism believes in true, structural change to bring about a better and more just society.

I got up, put on my clothes intending to go out, and now I dont know if I want to.

Go to Hell

Now if your mind lies in the Devil's workshop
And evil duens your thrill
And trouble and mischief is all you live for
You know darn well
That you'll go to hell

So you're living high and mighty
Rich off the fat of the land
Just don't dispose of your natural soul
'cos you know darn well
That you'll go to hell

I say hell
Where your natural soul burns
Hell
Where you pay for your sins
Hell
Keep your children from wrongdoing
'cos you know darn well
That they'll go to hell.

I say hell
Man, woman were created
Hell
To live for eternity
Hell
With an apple they ate from the tree of hate
So you know darn well
That they went to hell

Now Satan was an angel in heaven
But he stirred up trouble and woe
So the LORD commanded that the Devil be branded
So you know darn well
He went to hell
Yeah, he went to hell
Yeah, he went to hell
He went to hell.

I played Nina Simone's Released album all through out the past election cycle, with special attention to the track, " Go to Hell," in an effort to damn George Bush, if indeed not this country, to hell. I played it again yesterday when they delivered the verdict which finally "closed" the Human Rights/Murder case of Cheney, Shwerner, and Goodman. It saddens me and pisses me off that white men get to use this to make themselves feel good, especially FORTY YEARS after the fucking fact. And indeed Trent Lott and the other senator from Mississippi need to loose their penises in lieu of their signatures on the most recent version of "I'm sorry we didn't do more to stop the crime of lynching." Where is Malcolm X's vision of taking the United States before the World Court and trying it for crimes against humanity? We need some movement people!!!!

I remember when I was in the sixth grade and I told my teacher I thought I was having hot flashes. She laughed at me.

I am in a creative mood...the spirit has possessed me. I just watched some television and I saw this ad for medicine to stop hot flashes. The list of side effects was at least two pages long... " If you take this medicine you might develop uterine cancer, you might go blind,etc etc," Don't but the medicine and go buy an air conditioner!

I always wanted to attend a coming-out ball ( a cotillion). My mother got to go to one and so did my sister. There have been some things that I have always been jealous of, but of course now I totally don't really care, but I definitely would have loved to have attended one. When I was little I used to be absolutely jealous of my sister and all of my cousins because they got to go to Catholic School and I had to go to school with my Aunt Johnnie. I am glad I did. I only liked the uniforms they wore (burgundy and white). Also, when my sister was little, my grandmother and my step-grandfather took her everywhere-- all over the Carribean, Florida, California. When I came along the only place I go to go was to their condo in Alpine Bay(somewhere in Florida). That place used to give me a headache, even though it was nice. When you opened the front door, the hallway into the main part was covered in mirrors and I would always walk into the mirrors. Leave me alone. But I did enjoy the jacuzzi. What petty children's stuff, but it was something I was thinking about this morning. I did get to go to Europe though. I want to go back too, soon.

Black Butter Fly by Deniece Williams

I have been in love with this song basically my whole life. I used to listen to it a lot in high school...in college I had it on napster. MUSIC MEANS SOMETHING!


Morning light, silken dream take flight
As the darkness give way to the dawn
You've survived, now your moment has arrived
Now your dream has finally been born

Black butterfly sail across the waters
Tell your sons and daughters what the struggle brings
Black butterfly set the skies on fire
Rise up even higher so the ageless winds of time can catch your wings

Ooh...ooh...

While you slept, the promise was unkept
But your faith was as sure as the stars
Now you're free and the world has come to see
Just how proud and beautiful you are

Black butterfly sail across the waters
Tell your sons and daughters what the struggle brings
Black butterfly set the skies on fire
Rise up even higher so the wind can catch your wings

Let the current lift your heard and send it soaring
Write your timeless message clear across the sky
So that all of us can read it and remember when we need it
That a dream conceived in truth can never die
Butterfly

'Cause now that you're free and the world has come to see
Just how proud and beautiful you are

Black butterfly sail across the waters
Tell your sons and your daughters what the struggle brings
Black butterfly set the skies, set them on fire
Rise up even higher so the ageless winds of time can catch your wings

Fly
Butterfly
Yeah, yeah, yes
Fly

A New Slogan

Castration is the Key!
Bush-Dick= Freedom!!!

I want to write in depth and very seriously about being Black in a White university and being a person of color/Black person pursuant of advanced degrees in a graduate program that is controlled and predominantly populated by whites, in a white academic setting. I doubt if I will write all that I want to here.....it will probably be an essay that I write-- outside of the blog, but I think it is crucial, critical, indeed pertinent to talk about this. As I have interacted with other Black graduate students, faculty members, and other Blacks-- here at Purdue and elsewhere and talked with them about their experiences, I feel that this is something that needs to be addressed, discussed, and there needs to be some movement and activity surrounding this. Just today, as I was on the trolley, I started talking to this Black girl in the humanities and she was telling me about the difficulties of being in her department. This needs attention, and the enviornment in which Blacks in higher levels of education have to exist need to be improved. There is no reason for anything to stay the same. Otherwise, I believe castration is definitely an alternative.

The politics of attracting a man are very interesting. I met Charles and we started hanging out and it progressed from there.....It is happening again....although who knows where it will go this time.

I am in love with

Ilmixor's

if I had a hammer I would smash patriarchy!

I am a Sapphire

! You are most Like A Sapphire !
Dark, mysterious - but unforgettable. You have a
deep
beauty. Delicate, and shy you try to stay away from
the
limelight but often your intelligence puts you in
at the
deep end. You're like a Sapphire, because, your
beauty is priceless.
You're intelligent, full of opinions, and not
big-headed about it all.
Sometimes you need to put yourself out there, as
you can be a bit shy.
Congratulations ... You're the mysterious gem
everybody wants to have and learn more about.


?? Which Precious Gem Are You ??
brought to you by Quizilla

I am very greatful for people like J.S and his wife....great people....and I take a lot from them. I suppose I have learned that there is no such thing as a nurturing Phd program--that you must hold tight to your stomach and fight like hell...and play politics with the best of them. I have tried hard to shed my Elizabeth Rex tendencies, but I suppose now when someone bangs on the ceiling above me with pots and pans I'll just have to lock them in a tower and throw away the key........

Here is a wonderful

discussion

of the song "Moonshadow" as recorded by Labelle. Also, it is a discussion that builds on my previous discussion of soul music and what it MEANT. What it means.....

I just wanted to blog AGAIN about three Divine women, Patti Labelle, Nona Hendryx and Sarah Dash who cooked up some good music. I absolutely adore Moonshadow and I am going out to buy this album. Soul Music.

Oh, I’m bein’ followed by a moonshadow, moonshadow, moonshadow
Leapin and hoppin’ on a moonshadow, moonshadow, moonshadow

And if I ever lose my hands, lose my plough, lose my land,
Oh if I ever lose my hands, oh if.... I won’t have to work no more.
And if I ever lose my eyes, if my colours all run dry,
Yes if I ever lose my eyes, oh if.... I won’t have to cry no more.

And if I ever lose my legs, I won’t moan, and I won’t beg,
Yes if I ever lose my legs, oh if.... I won’t have to walk no more.
And if I ever lose my mouth, all my teeth, north and south,
Yes if I ever lose my mouth, oh if.... I won’t have to talk...
"Just think, if those six musicians didn't have any hands, they wouldnt be able to do what they just did"

Firstly, I want the United States to fuck with the U.N. I would like to see this one....and I will put my money on the U.N. Secondly, I love cooking for myself. What a beautiful pleasure.

There is a reason why they call it soul music....cause it goes straight to the soul. What are they doing to the music?

I'm being followed by a moon shadow
Moon shadow moon shadow
Leaping and hopping on a moon shadow
Moon shadow moon shadow
And if I ever lost my hands
Lose my plough, lose my land
Oh, if I ever lose my hands- Oh, if...
I wont have to work no more
And if I ever lose my eyes
If my colours all run dry
Yes if I ever lose my eyes,I won't have to cry no more.
Yes, I'm being followed by a moon shadow
Moon shadow moon shadow
Leaping and hopping on a moonshadow
Moon shadow moon shadow
And if I ever lose my legs
I won't moan and I won't beg
Oh if I ever lose my legs- Oh if...
I won't have to walk no more
And if I ever lose my mouth
All my teeth, north and south
Yes, if I ever lose my mouth- Oh if...
I won't have to talk...
Did it take long to find me
I ask the faithful light
Did it take long to find me
And are you going to stay the night
I'm being followed by a moon shadow
Moon shadow moon shadow
Moon shadow moon shadow
Moon shadow moon shadow

REFUSE TO BE INTIMIDATED!

Today I listened to Merlie Evers on the Diane Rehms Show on NPR. I also watched the film Mississippi Burning. I think the crux of the message of Malcolm X-- and the ultimate message that needs to make itself out to Afro-Americans/People of Color/Minorities/Oppressed Peoples is to REFUSE TO BE INTIMIDATED BY THE WHITE MALE POWER STRUCTURE!!!!

I just took some silly little online quiz about which royal I would be and I ended up being Catherine de Medicis! That made me so giddy! Am I crazy or what?

I can feel the cold rambling around in my chest. Eh, evil spirits leave me!

One of my grandmothers graduated from Spelman, the other graduated from Alabama State University. Just recording more of my history.

I miss Charles. To continue on a totally separate thought, although related somewhat.... I thrive on the beat of the city, and there are always those forces that try to take me away from that. I will eliminate them god help me.

There is a girl sitting right next to me that looks just like Dr. Szpiech

I realized today that I am a plant.Also, I composed this poem:

I am a statue, unwilling to fall
you cannot hurt me, I am immune to your touch,
my soul is a plaster, hardened with time.
I am a statue, you cannot get near
I am confined, restricted and bound

House music just possesses such incredible energy and a raw creativity that it is right up my alley. Charles broadened my knowledge of house music-- I have enjoyed it before, when I had the opportunity to hear it, but Charles introduced me to a lot more of it, especially certain DJs. Ohh--- Alas, DJ Butter from Stephanie's party. I want to find that man and marry him.

I had a great dinner tonight. I absolutely enjoy cooking for myself. I will never order from fastfood again when I can help it. I love to cook, it is a joy, but I rarely get to do it since I don't have a car and this town is just shitty enough to make it impossible to get to where you need to go without one. I really am paying attention to what Bethany said at lunch-- "You are what you eat."

I met Jason back oh, perhaps around Thanksgiving of Last year, but I had gone to Chicago and on the bus back we sat next to each other and talked.I remember him, and our initial meeting was so interesting and memorable because I recognized hm as a BLack person and he was surprised, as he is very fair, able to pass for white or be mistaken as white. He is an interesting boy. From California, smokes cigarettes compulsively and is an interesting conversationalist. The people you come into contact with.

Life; this is the stuff of high drama. We live it and it is only for us to be strong enough to take the pain and pickup the pen and write about it. Thats what my calling is for, the sharing of the human experience. I wanted to dance with Charles to Chaka Khan and experience him out on the floor of the hottest nightclubs in CHicago. I enjoyed dancing with him. I loved it. I enjoyed keeping company with him. Evenings out with him were like such a breath of fresh air. I felt completely comfortable with him. God, the pain.

Charles has moved away, and I am very sad about that. He was so good for me and very sweet. Generuous to a fault- he would give his right arm for you just because. God, w hat a spirit. I felt comfortable around him and he made me feel great, the world lightened up in his presence. He t old me he was moving a couple of weeks ago and I thought it was at the end of this week. Isnt it something else that people can come in and out so easily? So beautifully. I have his phone number;-). Alas, I envy his freedom. I want to roam as he does. I hate being confined! I hate being restricted and I hate not being able to MOVE as I want to. I will either move or the earth will explode. God Help Me.

Charles moved to Alaska. He was very sweet. I wish him well.

I should learn not to expect the worst in people. Am I mean?

Excerpt from Jane Fonda: My Life So Far

I began to be aware that I was followed constantly and took care not to drive over the speed limit. Nonetheless, we were stopped numberous times on one pretext or another and I had to show my driver's liscense and registration. I saw it as a form of harrassment and realized that for the first time, I had stepped across the line that allows upper-class white people, especially celebrities, never to have to experience what other people, especially people of color, face all of the time- only far worse. There was a tightening in my stomach; I never knew what would happen next. I was aware of the possiblity that I might be set up, but I also felt a deepining resolve to not turn back.

Drinking Orange Juice can almost be orgasmic.

An Exchange Involving My Grandmother Once with Some Person from the Prattville Community...Before I Was Born

"You One'a them there things?" "One of what things?" "One of them there DeRamuses."


Hahaha. Yes lord, We are Deramus. My great-grandmother's name was Sadie Mae Goodson DeRamus. SHe married John Archie Bradson Deramus and had eight children, reared several including a foster child-her motherless nephew. Of her eight, she educated them all. My great grandfather's name was Morgan Goodson ( and therefore we are Goodsons too). His wife was named Mattie Roper/ Goodson, and together they had twenty children, roughly more than half of whom lived to adulthood, and about nine of which left offspring and descendant lines. There oldest child was King Philip and others whose names I can remember right off the top this morning are Henry Oliver, Macauley Ware(Fess Goodson),James Doc, Sadie Mae, Alfreda, Ethel, Caroline, Emma,....if I remember more I will post them. My great great great grandmother's name was Caroline Roper, who was a white woman. She had nine children, six with my great-great-great grandfather, Greenberry Smith, a mulatto, one with my other great-great great grandfather, and two that were completely white. Greenberry himself, had 49 children.

Last night I had an interesting dream...I should write what I remember of it down, but I was distantly, but closely enough related to this politically active radical family. My uncle was assasinated. I grieved. I also reveled in their beauty of spirit and their integrity.

Men are wicked.

What I have noticed of Lafayette

There are a lot of wedding rings...this university picks its people well-- keeping their normativity intact. Even the so-called gay people. White, heterosexual, heteronormative- Lafayette.

A Severe Injustice: And the Beginning of What I feel is going to be a Serious movement

This past Saturday, June 4,2005, Police in Indianapolis attacked, brutalized, and finally arrested 24 protestors against the development of I-69 through Indiana. They tear-gassed, kicked, and brutalized several. I feel that this action, and the responses that are pouring in from those who were present there as well as other activists, is the beginning of a solid and newly grounded and committed movement. It looks very much like the 60s again......with committment being made to struggle.... In that light, this is an account of the events from Jack McKivigan of IUPUI.


I took my eleven year-old downtown on Saturday to participate in
the "Roadless Summer" protest against the construction of I-69. We
met other demonstrators at the "mall" area between Meridian and
Pennsylvania. When the protest moved to the Capitol area we decided
to detour and get an ice cream cone first. When we finally caught up
with a few straggling protestors we learned what happened--so I
guess I we escaped possible arrest by just "a few licks." (Sorry.)

I have talked to several eyewitnesses to the arrests and what I have
learned makes me believe that yet another serious violation of the
freedom of assembly has been perpetrated by the Indianapolis Police
Department, led by its "Intelligence Division.". You can make up
your own minds about the spray painting of the capitol building, but
I believe the real criminal element that day was our city police.
They have been spoiling for vengeance against the Solidarity/Paper
Matches collective and other non-main-stream political groups ever
since losing a law suit to them last spring for illegal arrests and
searches occurring at the time of August 2003 meeting of the
National Governors' Association in this city.

After the spray painting incident at the capitol, the protestors
departed the capitol grounds but were "pursued" by elements of five,
count 'em, five different law enforcement agencies. When a large
number of those protestors were "cornered" near Military Park across
West Avenue, the police began targeting and arresting individuals
known to them for past prominence in demonstrations over recent
years without any knowledge of whether they had been the individuals
responsible for the spray painting. Note that the charges brought
against most of the twenty-four arrestees is the generic "disorderly
conduct" one. These twenty-four will now be forced to obtain legal
counsel and be subject to months of legal harassment. Most if not
all ultimately will be exonerated or have their charges kicked down
to the "infraction" level but the IPD will have had the opportunity
to disrupt seriously this summer's Anti-I-69 campaign as well as
settle some old scores. Anyone at IUPUI willing to donate their time
or money to assist these "detainees," can contact me.

The reprehensible action of the IPD on Saturday is just further
evidence that they are the real "rogue political force" in this
city. It is time for the mayor and the city-county council to step
in and place the IPD under a fully transparent system of civilian
supervision before every citizen's rights disappears.

Jack McKivigan

Jane Fonda's book is such a revelation! One of the most beautiful people indeed!!!!

I have interestingly gained the ability to scat. From out of nowhere. I started really today.

Dick and Betty Nelson so reminded me of my Uncle Lawrence, and she especially of my AUnt Vernetta-- the classy socialite wife, beautiful and with depth. Ohh what a sight. Alas, I really enjoyed myself tonight and today. The heat was intense, but it was beautiful. I enjoyed Wafaa and his friend Luis, and I enjoyed all of the art. What a beautiful day. Charles is a gift too. Thanks for him.

Talk About Queer

One of my favorite Hymnals from when I was little and we attended Coppin Chapel was,

We will break bread together on our knees, on our knees
we will break bread together on our knees, on our knees
when I fall on my knees with my face to the rising sun
oh lord have mercy on me.

The House by the Side of the Road
by Sam Walter Foss

There are hermit souls that live withdrawn
In the place of their self-content;
There are souls like stars, that dwell apart,
in a fellowship firmament;
There are pioneer souls that blaze their paths
Where highways never ran----
But let me live by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.

Let me live in a house by the side of the road,

Where the race of men go by--
The men who are good and the men who are bad,
As good and as bad as I,
I would not sit in the scorner's seat,
Or hurl the cynic's ban----
Let me live in a house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.

I see from my house by the side of the road,

By the side of the highway of life,
The men who press with the ardor of hope,
The men who are faint with the strife.
But I turn not away from their smiles nor their tears,
Both part of an infinite plan---
Let me live in a house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.

I know there are brook-gladdened meadows ahead

And moutains of wearisome height;
That the road passes on through the long afternoon
And stretches away to the night.
But still I rejoice when the travelers rejoice,
And weep with the strangers that moan,
Nor live in my house by the side of the road
Like a man who dwells alone.

Let me live in my house by the side of the road---

It's here the race of men go by.
They are good, they are bad, they are weak, they are strong,
Wise, foolish---so am I;
Then why should I sit in the scorners seat,
Or hurl the cynic's ban?
Let me live in my house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.

I have read a lot of autobiographies. I will talk about that later.

I remember seeing a lot of hospitals when I was young. A lot of death scenes. Not a lot, but it was a few. They were always grim, important, and very grave. Aunt Sadie's when I was three( she died of cancer, this one I dont remember much at all, but I was there), Aunt Bertie's there in Chicago, she died at Michael Reese, and Uncle Archie, who was at the Mayo Clinic. A lot of waiting rooms. I would sit in the waiting room.., and then finally would be lead back into the room where they lay and I could feel their hand or talk to them). It was grim, and I didnt always get to go. I remmember Uncle Archie's soo very vividly. My mother took his death hard. He was my grandmother's youngest sibling and the closest to my mother in age. In a way, they grew up together. She was his sidekick and he taught her what she knew. My mother cried for years after his death. The mention of his name would set her off in torrents. It always seemed like those of my relatives knew that their time was near. My uncle Archie sobbed with my mother for days. My Aunt Bertie knew, My Uncle Lawrence knew. I hope he is at peace. My grandmother was at his side when he died. Ah me.

I dont know how much I will write at this moment, but I want to write about my early childhood.On my days off from school (during that wonderous period when my mother would come in in the mornings and ask me "Brandon, do you want to go to school today?") and I would answer no, I got to stay at home with my Aunt Bertie, who had just taken an early retirement to deal with her cancer that was slowly eating away at her and that would claim her in 1985, when I was on the other end of my fourth year of living. I used to get to stay home with her, at her house (that I, not knowingly called "Aunt Johnnie's house"-- how I would learn about that later) while my mother and Aunt Johnnie, and Aunt Betty when she was there, would pack off to their respective schools and work in the mornings. We would set out on our day.

Days usually began, after they left, with a call from Uncle Lawrence from Alabama( I would cheeringly answer the phone to speak to my beloved Uncle) to check up on my Aunt Bertie ( he was still working for the government then, not retired yet). This followed with me finding things around the house to do while they were on the phone, which might include watching the television ( I don't remember doing that too much) or making up a story, or playing with the beautiful stuff that decorated my aunts house. My Aunt Bertie moved to Chicago in the early sixties and bought that house, after Fess' death, and my Aunt Johnnie moved in--and took over, which is why I called this house Aunt Johnnie's when I came along.

After the phone call, we would then embark on the kitchen where we would delve into making the most glorious things imaginable as my Aunt was an excellent cook and could bake with the best of them. We would make gingerbread houses, and gingerbread men, and gingerbread women ( I got to decide what we would make out of the gingerbread. I didnt like gingerbread so much to eat as I did to make) and cakes, and cookies, and god knows what else we cooked up in that kitchen-- and we made several things in one day. Then my Aunt would go in her room and busy herself around. I remember quite vividly her taking off her wigs and placing others on, or just sitting their looking at herself in the mirror. I thought it was odd and interesting, and I used to watch her while she did these things. We got along very well, my aunt loved me and I loved my aunt. I only remember her chastising me one time, and I didnt know why then, and it still puzzles me, but once we were walking towards the church- our church there in Chicago, Coppin A.M.E, the church I was baptized in by eh I can't remember his name right now, but it wasn't Farrell Duncombe it was.... Anyway, I was playing "step on the crack, you break your mother's back" something not out of the ordinary, but she pulled my hand and told me to stop, I shouldnt play that game talking about my mother. I never understood that one.

On the days I did go to school, I would take Aunt Johnnie's hand and after we dropped off Aunt Betty at the school where she taught (where there was a mean Doberman at the door), and my mother at Robert Taylor, we would make our way to Price where we would go into our classroom and she would let me set up her film projector and pop popcorn if we were doing anything that day. I was soo spoiled and it was wonderful, all of the teachers doted on me and I remember very vividly when Mrs. Wright( I think that was her name, eh I am forgetting people's names ) a very attractive woman, young and a teacher there at Price, made me so mad-- not really, but I acted mad. She pinched my cheek and told me "Oh Brandon, everytime I see you, you make my heart skip a beat." She was always flirting with me, and I would get so red. That time I told her I was going to call the police. Everybody laughed. What beautiful days.

There were such beautiful people at Price and there names are slowly fading--I will have to ask my mother. Mrs. Bull, the white lady who was my first grade teacher ( I had Aunt Johnnie for headstart and Kindergarten-- we were a bit upset when they didnt put me in her first grade class), who was a great friend to Aunt Johnnie; Mrs. Barrett( her daughters China and Tye ( think that was what it was) were so much fun and interesting older children, teenagers, and I liked to visit their house; the music and arts and crafts teacher whose rich, chocolate face I remember, Bernard- who lives right across the street from Aunt Joyce; and Aunt Joyce herself when she would walk over from the Lincoln Center to take me home with her sometimes in the evenings when Aunt Johnnie had to do something. There was also Big Marie and Little Marie, grandmother and grand daughter, Big Marie was one of Aunt Johnnie's teacher's aides and little Marie was in my class.

I remember Aunt Bertie's retirement tea very well, I remember it was a very elegant affair and I got to meet and see all of the teachers and the principal from her school, it was held somewhere, I dont remember. When Aunt Bertie died, I learned not to fear death, and I believe I was quite imbued with a special blessing as she told me before she passed that she was going to die. It was her preparing me for her end. When my mother and Freda ( I remember them as being the one's who approached me) came to tell me that Aunt Bertie was dead, I told them I already knew. I was quite calm and at peace, my mind was full of questions though. I remember asking if she would get enough to eat in heaven. My Aunt's funeral was a grand and morose affair, Reverend Duncombe preached her funeral ( it was Reverend Spivey that baptized me, and what I took from it, I have remembered always-- and everybody, especially my mother and Freda, would comment about how I always remembered and recited the poem that was read at her funeral. "Let me live in a house by the side of the road to be a friend to men." Apparently, it was a poem that she loved and recited many times over.

When my Aunt Bertie and my grandmother were girls, their hobby was to memorize and recite poetry. It is something my grandmother still does. My grandmother also writes plays and poems, and other little things-- mostly what I knew was from when she was active with her Senior Citizen's council and she would write plays for them. She also writes poems and plays for the church.

I had my first seizure no more than about a year after Aunt Bertie died, because I was still at Price. I remember. sometimes in the mornings, when we would just get to school, I would pretend to be asleep in the car so that Aunt Johnnie would have to drag me out of the car and then we would go in the school. That day, I wasn't pretending. I was sitting in the back, as I normally did-- in between Aunt Betty and Nikki(when we had to drop her off at St. Ambrose) or whomever was in the car. I was out. My aunt woke me up, and I walked from the parking lot to the school in a drunken stupor. I went to class, as she thought I was perhaps playing or just needed to wake up, and then after a while she took me to the office and they called for an ambulance. I was not asleep, but I was in a daze and I couldnt remember who I was or where I was and my head hurt. The next thing I remember I was lying in a hospital bed and they had a needle in my arm and it hurt. My mother was standing there with her hand on my forehead, and they had my arms down,unmovable. I then went on a regiment of tegretol and some other pill, but tegretol stayed with me until 92. At that point, I hadn't had a seizure in a few years.

For a while, it was me and my cousin Brooke (whom I adored, loved, and cherished) who had seizures ( Brooke is mentally handicapped)and who took tegretol. Brooke took about twenty pills twice a day-- it seemed to me, some of them big horse pills. We used to share our tegretol sometimes. Brooke had seizures all of the time. Mine were rare. We were at the Lincoln Park Zoo one time( on one of our splendid outings) when Brooke had a seizure and fell over into the animal pit. Someone had to go in and get her.f Another time, she had one and fell over the railings on my mother's front porch. She broke her arm then, I do believe I remember. We were special children. I remember my mother telling me at one point when I was little that people who were sick were special.

I so remember my doctors when I was little. The nice jewish man who was the dentist, and the other one who prescribed my glasses. Then there was Earnestine Willis, that most wonderful black woman who was my pediatrician. I wanted to be a pediatrician when I was three years old. Since then I have wanted to be a writer. Then there was Henda Sack, the incredible Jewish woman, my psychologist, who made no small effort to spoil me. She used to call me her lammchen. She had a wonderfully thick German-Yiddish accent. I loved going to the University of Chicago Hospital. My mental image of me when I was young is me as Yentl. Ha. Oh my childhood was beautiful...... I'll continue later.

I am now reading Jane Fonda's autobiography, which I picked up today at Von's. I love Jane Fonda, I dont know why I didnt remember until moments ago that I have previously read another account of her life ( I believe a biography or perhaps it was an autobiography). She is a beautiful creature. I have always been attracted to her and she possesses a gamine-like quality that just captivates. She has the stunning allure of a well-keeled black woman, with the likes of Diahann Carroll. There has only been one scene if a film involving someone using the bathroom that I have thought was done well, and that was Jane Fonda sitting on the toilet in Fun with Dick and Jane. I just thought, god, how sexy is that scene. Anyway, her book is quite captivating.

I have spent most of my life trying to escape oppressive heat. From Chicago summers (which were bad, but bearable), to Alabama's intensity and now to Indiana. I don't know wi heat affects me the way it does. It is so debilitating. Perhaps it has to do with my epilepsy. I want to find a comfortable climate/environment.

Milk is not my friend. Never has been.

Today the exhumed Emmet Till's body. God, Mamie Till was STRENGTH. This countyr has a lot to pay for.

I dont know why, but I was thinking about the accumulation of wealth and power, and property.... and I then thought of the jews leaving all of their stuff behind in Germany and Central Europe....and the Nazis and other beneficiary Germans getting their houses, furs,chandeliers, jewelry. "Hard Work" really is a myth.

This is the beginning of week two since we really did anything(not counting a little in...). I want charles to deflower me!

To add to my thoughts about white male appropriation of nonwestern cultures....and interracial/interethnic marriage, I think it is interesting to look at examples of interracial/interethnic marriages. Those that come to mind right off of the top include Alice Walker and Mel Rosenthal (a jewish man), June Jordan and her first husband, another jewish man,Nina Simone and the white man she married,and Lorraine Hansberry and Robert Nemiroff (another jewish man). It is interesting that all of these ended in divorce and that three of these four later became lesbians. Im not making any correlations, its just an interesting observation. Alas, there have been some beautiful marriages as well. I can't think of any right now, but there are some. To think of another interracial/interethnic marriage--my brain hasnt stopped processing them-Diahann Carroll and Vic Damone,which also ended in divorce. Its interesting that these are all women too. I would like to look further into this one.

I wanted to blog something this morning, but I dont remember what. Perhaps I need to work on my screenplay.

dating white men is good in and of itself.... I have been involved with a few and am attracted to them. I think the best kind though, are those that acknowledge and realize their positions as white men.....with hope they might over come it......The most well intentioned still needs to realize (very complicated issue of course)what positions they hold in this society...but I think relationships with white men can be a beautiful thing...and have seen and witnessed some that are very beautiful. There is still hope.

An Asian woman sits , a pissed look on her face, irate and highly sensitive to the irony of her white husband sitting next to her, whom she can't stand to touch. With knowledge that she is married to her oppressor.

Ella Fitzgerald Nina Simone Nancy Wilson Barbra Streisand Abbey Lincoln Billie Holiday

I wrote a good omelet this morning;-) With tomatoes and onions. It is a very pleasant day outside. Bob Schieffer is a good man.

This is a review I wrote a long time ago...I am laughing while I read it-- You know its true!

Well Well Well
Aug 13 '00 (Updated Jan 20 '02)

Author's Product Rating



Pros
It did not last very long

Cons
I have had my fill of such films

The Bottom Line
Stephen King truly created a horror story, but not an enjoyable one.
Full Review
Plot Details: This opinion reveals minor details about the movie's plot.
I did not want to see The Green Mile at first, but I did finally relent and I watched it one weekend while on vacation. I guess the film was "satisfying" to some. In my opinion, The Green Mile is the White majority's Feel Good About Ourselves film of the year. Here we have this Afro-American fellow who is on death row for a crime he did not commit, and a guard, who finds this out and grows into a "friendship" with the convicted man. "Boss" is really upset because he knows that John didn't do it and he is scared of going to hell because he is going to have to execute this man. "John, What will I say on my judgement day when god asks me why I killed one of his select?" It all works out fine in the end, because John assures him that he won't be punished for killing him, as a matter of fact he is doing him a favor, and then gives him the nod to go ahead and flip the switch. Now if that's not reassuring I don't know what is.

To put a little cherry on top of it all, white people got to feel even better when John apologized for "being what I am," mainly a negro who of course is big, ugly, and dumb, as the script would have it- oh but he can also save people, which is why we consider him our friend, "good ol' John." Maybe if he had've lived he could've been a handyman for "Boss." My my, and they didn't give Michael Clarke Duncan an Oscar. He played his part perfectly.

Recommended
No

Viewing Format: VHS
Video Occasion: Fit for Friday Evening
Suitability For Children: Not suitable for Children of any age

The United States Government will NEVER get its hands on Assata Shakur! May God tear this goddamned country apart and set it in flames before anything like that occurs!

Last night I helped Charles with his resume and it was a beautiful time. We will probably do something tonight.

In that I only mean that I should learn to relax more.

Men are interesting....and more than that, people are interesting..... I should get out of my Bette Davis mode.... Perhaps I have seen too many Bette Davis pictures?

That panoptic eye that watches me will dissapear. I have lived under its guise for too long.

Go Amnesty International!

I see someone sitting across from me who looks just like Charles- brown tshirt, baseball cap, tall and lanky. Beautiful.

It was just a few months ago that I met this beautiful, tall, lanky Chicano boy named Charles. he is beautiful, sweet, very tall, good for me, laid back, and great to hang with. I enjoy his company. I enjoy his passion, I enjoy his life, his vivacity. I dont ever want it to change. Things are feeling good. I see someone sitting across from me who looks like him. I am glad our spirits have connected, have met. I want him to be my first..and I want him to deflower me I hope that is what happens. I will share my poetry with him and I want him to share his poetry with me.

I am soo ready to go to the city.....

Songs

Nothing Compares to You

All the Sad Young Men

I love that I can listen to a song on the radio and look up the lyrics online. Maybe I am slow or silly or something, but it makes me absolutely giddy.

Chaka Is God- Papillion Lyrics I Play this song Ten Times in One Sitting

A faded photograph i mailed to you
With feelings i don't want to face
And a long song of surrender in blue
I remember when you took my breath away

Chorus:

Chanson papillon, we were very young
Like butterflies, like hot butterfly
Chanson papillon, we had just begun
We let it slide on by
We didn't realize

All our memories are burning in time
Like a bittersweet perfume


Can you tell me how a love that's so fine
Could have climaxed in a single afternoon

Gone are the days of instant romance
And the nights of slow goodbyes
That was a time of life when foxy was the dance
But then you got wise to all my lies

Chorus

Chanson papillon, chanson
Chanson papillon, chanson
Chanson papillon, chanson
Chanson papillon, chanson

Jimmy Baldwin from The Fire Next Time

The American Negro has the great advantage of having never believed that collection of myths to which white Americans cling: that their ancestors were all freedom-loving heroes, that they were born in the greatest country the world has ever seen, or that Americans are invincible in battle and wise in peace, that Americans have always dealt honorably with Mexicans and Indians and all other neighbors or inferiors, that American men are the world's most direct and virile, that American women are pure

A few days ago Vincente Fox said some disparaging things about Afro-Americans. He does not need to be president of Mexico-- he is too much into Bush and plus, Mexico needs a president with some COLOR-- not one who looks like a white man. We definitely need a Bandung Conference.....

I love Paul Robeson....he was the greatest personification of integrity that ever existed. He is a beautiful man. Also, I want to blog these ten principles that were drawn up at the Bandung Conference( that Robeson was not able to attend, due to the US denying him a passport-bastards). These points are most crucial and relevant today--they should be rules for the world.

1, Respect for fundamental human rights and for the purposes and principles of the Charter of the United Nations.
2. Respect for the sovereignty and territorial integrity of all nations.
3. Recognition of the equality of all races and of the equality of all nations large and small.
4. Abstention from intervention or interference in the internal affairs of another country. (CRUCIAL)
5. Respect for the right of each nation to defend itself singly or collectively, in conformity with the Charter of the United Nations.
6. (a)Abstention from the use of arrangements of collective defense to serve the particular interests of any of the big powers.
(b) Abstention by any country from exerting pressures on other countries.
7. Refraining from acts or threats of aggression or the use of force against the territorial integrity or political independence of any country. (CRUCIAL)
8. Settlement of all international disputes by peaceful means, such as negotiations, conciliation, arbitration, or judicial settlement as well as othere peaceful means of the parties' own choice, in conformity with the Charter of the United Nations.
9. Promotion of mutual interests and cooperation.
10. Respect for justice and international obligations.

These principles I wholeheartedly support. On this platform I take my stand.

Alas, I think these principles are sooo very crucial now and need to be brought to the forefront. I would love to see another Bandung Conference- as well as a Pan-African conference (where is DuBois?). Paul Robeson's most wonderful assessment of the Bandung Conference is only the second account of this conference that I have read. The other is that of Malcolm X. It is interesting that both of these men hail the success of this conference, and indeed it was successful-- as immediately after it-- in 1957 (the conference was in '55)Ghana gained its independence, and then African and Asian countries by the DOZENS started to fight and demand and WIN their independence from Colonialism--- and sociaism became the sentiment of the day. We need it to happen again. We need the dialogue between the colored peoples of the world to rise to the forefront again so that we may strategize ways to ward off the evils of Globalism and Imperialism. This is a most immediate need.

One of the things that has truly shaped me and the crux of what I believe and how I operate has been my response to what my grandmother told me, on several occasions. My grandmother, with some sort of pride or something much less than remorse, would tell me of how when my mother was in Catholic School, at one point a nun made a point of telling the class that my mother was in that Black people were Black because God put a curse on them. When my mother refuted this statement and then declared that just the opposite was true- that whites were white because of a curse, the scene escalated until they sent my mother home and told her to not return until she found the passage in the Bible that refuted this statement. My mother went home and frantically called her grandfather, the Bible expert, and they located the passage--in Exodus I believe, where they spoke of how Miriam was turned white after she had sinned.

My mother took that passage back to school and the powers that be were mumed, and sore to have been displaced by a Black girl (teenager). Well, that just put my mother in the dog house as far as those nuns and the Catholic School went. When it came time to go to college, my mother wanted to go to Kentucky State (my Aunt Carolyn's alma mater). Well, when time came, the school "forgot" to send my mothers school records to Kentucky State--- and it was clearly a matter of their gripes about the previous incident. My mother went home and told my grandmother of it and my Grandmother's response to her was "You shouold have kept your mouth shut."

Everytime my grandmother would tell me this, I would get infuriated to hell. Goddamn that. Lord please thank you that it wasnt me. Because I would have probably kicked my grandmother's ass and then proceeded to tear that school (St. Michael's on the North of Chicago).Now granted, my mother didnt suffer much from it-- she enrolled at Miles in Birmingham and did her studies there--and didnt seem to adverse to it. But still. If I wanted it, I would have had it and no white bitch and my grandmother would have stopped me from having it. From that day forward I do believe that is when I took the position that nobody would ever stand in my way or do anything to me with out me opening my mouth. I believe it was then that I decided to speak and Speak and SPEAK and goddamn it I will be heard! I cannot believe my grandmother. But alas, I never said she was the most progressive person in the world. God forbid.... I still shake and tremble when I think about it.

Happy Birthday Barbra!!!

Oh My God, April Just passed and I forgot completely about Barbra Streisand's birthday! Happy Birthday Barbra!!! 4/24/42!!!!

Alas, to add to the previous post...the role of Edmund in Shakespeare's King Lear is definitely something to look at in relation to the Afro-American population in this country.It ought to spark some thought....

I have just begun reading Paul Robeson's Here I stand-just getting through the three introductions, and I am very much immersed in it. I would like to stop and do some analysis though. I very much love Paul Robeson, he is wonderful,magnificent, a God. Alas, I must detract from some of his tactics. At one point in his introduction, he states very plainly that he is an American. He goes about stating that he is an American and that he is one and will remain tied to this country/land despite all of the bad things that have been done to him, and despite the fact that this country is lead by forces of pure evil.I must detract from that with a statement that has certainly gotten me into trouble more than a few times, and that is, that I am not an American.

I am an Afro-American. I am not an American, because I very much believe that the word "American" (unless it is all encompassing--meaning Canadians and Mexicans,as well as the people that live in this country-- a context in which it is rarely used) is most definitely synonymous with "white." I further this conclusion by stating that one cannot be an American without being a full citizen of this country. To be a citizen requires that one has full protection under the law. As an Afro-American, and especially as an Afro-American male, this is not the case. Therefore, I am not a citizen ( ask Amadou Diallo's mother).

Alas, I will also state that I am an Afro-American. I am not an African American, for I have never been to Africa, was not born there, and I am not African. I am an Afro-American, because the essence of ME is from Africa- the legacy of my ancestry, is from Africa. The imprint of my skin is from Africa. I am also Afro-American because not only is my legacy from Africa, but my heritage is from here in this country-- we as a people are the bastard children of the White Power structure. There are virtually no people of color descended from American slaves that don't have white ancestry (and so called white people need to look down their family tree as well). And even more so than bloodlines, culturally, socially, economically, and politically-- we are the bastard children of the White Male Power structure in the United States.

Everything we have learned,and I do not intend to essentialize, everything we know, the entire context in which we live has been defined by the Great White Father. And before we are EVER to make any kind of progress, and before we are EVER to attain any kind of REAL footing, we will have to deal with that reality. We cannot return Africa, we cannot become kings and queens. Before we can fully come into our connection with the whole of the African Diaspora and really appreciate the richness of our African past, we must contend with what we have to deal with here in this country. We have to get our act together and try to figure out why we are still begging the power structure for that which we should already have. We have to deal with the fact of our powerlessness here in this country (yet we do have potential).

We need to look at examples of people's who have come into their full integrity, who accomplished self-attainment and were self-sufficient as a people. Dr. John Henrik Clarke told us we should study the example of the Japanese after World War II and look at the way in which they rose from their most terrible defeat. I also say we should look at the Irish, and how they rose from being "white niggers" to having John F. Kennedy elected president and being the powerbrokers of Chicago, Boston, New York, Philadelphia, and other areas. We as a people have to deal with this. We are enslaved not only physically and politically, but also psychologically and at the very depths of our beings. We were taught from our earliest experiences here in this country to devalue our hair, our nose, our skin color, our bodies. We were made to love and to value European ideals and standards, to accept them and to operate under the living conditions offered up by them. This deserves and is in need of TOTAL ERADICATION. In order to preserve our lives and our legacies, we have to begin to understand, know, and appreciate ourselves.

I want to write about the connections between music and progressive politics....which was soo prevalent less than thirty years ago and is still here today--only on a smaller scale. Real connections that promoted dialoque and effected change--connections between the Isley Brothers and Nikki Giovanni, Aretha Franklin offering to bail Angela Davis out of jail, Harry Belafonte buying life insurance policies for Martin Luther King....

In the music of Marvin Gaye, Sam Cooke, the Temptations, the Isley Brothers, Aretha Franklin,Mavis Staples and the Staples Singers, and all of the Black Artists that were soo very prominent in the 1960s and 1970s, their music carried a message and spoke to the progressive voices of the poets, activists, and political figures that were outspoken and so very much heard and felt at that time. The summer fests in Chicago, which featured the Isleys, Earth, Wind, and Fire, Gladys Knight and the Pips, and others-- these festivals brought hordes of Black people together under one sun, under one stage and yes, it was the height of artistry and beautiful artistic expression, at the same time, it was also highly political--and sent messages of unity, self-love, self-appreciation, and spiritual,political, and soul force.

Music is always a part of any movement and helps to inspire the people. From Paul Robeson singing the Internationale over Moscow and spirituals over the US, to Mahalia Jackson and her friendship with Studs Terkel as well as lending her voice to the Civil Rights Movement, to James Brown and "Say it Loud, I'm Black and I'm Proud," Aretha Franklin singing at Martin Luther King's Funeral, Nina Simone marching with Stokely Carmichael and Martin Luther King and castrating many a white man with her voice... "Alabama's got me so upset, Tennesee made me loose my rest, but everybody knows about Mississippi Goddamn!" This connection is crucial, is lifeblood and must continually be nurtured.

The Right has its own vehicles-- from Britanny Spears (trash) to Brooks and Dunn and stupid little Tobey Kieth person... but we who are concerned with humanity must make sure that ours doesnt continue to be eroded and silenced.... We have had connections with voices such as Public Enemy in the 90s, Rass Kass, and more recently, collaborations between Jill Scott and Sonia Sanchez, but these efforts are few and far between. We need to make sure that the music is there to inspire. The wealth of artistry and message has been deflated by attacks from the right and from the overbearing powers that be. We must eliminate that factor. Even today, I was listening to NPR as some right wing pundit reported that with the removal of the right to filibuster, the voices of dissent and of progress will naturally become compliant and silence their efforts towards letting their voices be heard. NEVER!!! As god as my witness as long as Aretha Franklin's voice is to be heard and as long as Black skin is to be seen on this continent the voice of progress will NEVER be silent!!!

God I miss Jazz and the music of the city.....

John Coltrane was a magic man....I could live, die, everything off of that man and hus music....

I love June Jordan's laugh. I hate I will never hear her voice. She is the most beautiful person, full of integrity and strength.

Today, I carried Nikki into the ceremony with me (THat is Giovanni). She provided blessings and sacraments...... Nikki is my sister's name and Nikki is my sister.

I am surrounded by such wonderful people! Susan is incredible, wonderful, and most reassuring. I don't care if Im living on the street... I am totally blessed to be surrounded and given a guiding hand by such great people.

Confession

I have not been nice to Erik, at times I have been downright mean- and I believe I had my reasons. Still, in this climate we all need to stick together. I know that. Alas, I do have much Goodson blood in my system and I am related to my Uncle Lawrence.LOL. Oh Lord, as Larry said when he spoke over my Uncle at his funeral-- " All of you knew my father pretty well, I believe many of you have been cursed out by my father at one time or another." Lord have mercy, its Goodson blood. But that said, and more seriously, perhaps I am just stubborn, pigheaded, wrongheaded, or what have you-- but I believe in progress and I don't condone or want to take part in anything that I see that goes against it. Not that I judge-- I so wholly don't.. I believe in live and let live... but I won't align myself with certain things when I see how it is set up, what kind of situation it is, and I don't think it is right. That I share with my uncle-and everybody else who believes in integrity. I won't condone it--and nine times out of ten I will tell you what I think. Anyway, there is too much politics involved and I don't wish to go into it here, but I believe in integrity. That is said and done.

I Was Laughing and then I Almost Cried

I was doing a search for one of my former professors--googled his name and came up with a site- which was not him and which I was beginning to laugh about until I read it. This is what I found.
Kenneth Deal

I found some stuff about A.G. Gaston online. (its Gaston, not Gadsden... I got it wrong in earlier post).

Quiz

You scored as Cultural Creative. Cultural Creatives are probably the newest group to enter this realm. You are a modern thinker who tends to shy away from organized religion but still feels as if there is something greater than ourselves. You are very spiritual, even if you are not religious. Life has a meaning outside of the rational. Cultural Creative 100% Postmodernist 88% Romanticist 50% Materialist 38% Idealist 38% Fundamentalist 31% Existentialist 25% Modernist 19% What is Your World View? created with QuizFarm.com

I wrote this as a response, I liked it so I am blogging it.

I can very much relate to this...and so can probably most all other people of color/minorities. We do walk on eggshells (some of us do, some of us have learned better) when in the presence of white people-- watch what we say, how we act, adhere to the "codes of conduct" that are graciously offered by civilization. I think though, we really do need to overcome this--and all of our fears and insecurities and speak with open mouths and flailing tongues. Jimmy Baldwin in the lecture that he gave at UC Berkeley said at one point " I have drunk my fair share of dry martinis...and now I have decided that I might as well act like a Nigger." Power and Politics are a very very intense game, some of us learn this game from the get go-- some of us catch on later. Alas, we all have to negotiate where and at what point we are willing to "let things exist as they are."

Tonight Sheila and Frank met my parents. When the conversation got to why my grandmother and my aunts and uncles moved to Chicago-- my mother got scared. She is afraid and does not want anything to do with the political, for sure. My grandmother, I dont know, who possesses something--though certainly still a disdain for the political-- will tell the story-- to anyone. Alas, My uncle, Sterling(Fess) McDavid, was a very powerful man there in Autauga County-- principal of the Black School, and under his administration, Autaugaville was THE best school in Autauga county-- much better than the white ones. The white people resented him for it, and it especially did not help the case that he took his own initiative, did things the way he wanted to and in many instances simply pissed white people off. That said, they couldn't touch the man and he was very much revered and to this day you can go to Autauga County and people speak his name with much reverance.

Autaugaville, under his administration, had typewriters and other conveniences that were current during that time-- when the white schools couldnt even think of them. Also, he had people coming in from Tuskegee to teach not only those who were his pupils, but also the people of the community-- new and better ways of farming, domestic issues, medicine,etc etc. His was a community enriching program and what he did for Autaugaville High School benefited the entire community. I think it is most impressive and it is highly likely that it is not replicated in too many other places that out of his rural,Southern school came not only numerous college graduates-- but people with Master's Degrees and Doctorates and who went on to become doctors and teachers and lawyers. This was during my grandmother's time and the time of my Uncle Lawrence and Aunt Betty.

Fess' first wife was Mary Foster McDavid, whom I talked about earlier and who was the president of the National PTA for a while. They also had a school in Montgomery named after her. Alas, he married my Aunt Bertie at some point (as my aunt told it, Mrs. McDavid the first handpicked her as Mrs. McDavid the second. My Aunt Bertie went to school under Fess McDavid as well. And alas, there were, as I said two "Fess's-" Fess McDavid and Fess Goodson (Macaulay Ware)-- who was my great-grandmother's brother.

Alas, when Fess died in 1963 (I am not certain if that is right, but it was before 65 I know), the white superintendent of schools decided to have his revenge. Fess had been principal of Autaugaville High School for god- fifty years when he died. Fess Goodson had been Principal of another Black School in the area-- Holy Ark ( and he hired my Aunt Earnestine) and eventually, before Fess McDavid's death, it stood that Fess Goodson was principal at Holy Ark, he was principal at Autaugaville, my Aunt Earnestine (the oldest of my great grandmother's children) was principal of Friendship--and had been for twenty years, and my grandmother and my Aunt Bertie were teachers under Fess McDavid. When Fess died he handpicked his successor(as principal), however, the white superindentent didn't take long-- not even a year in not giving the prinipalship to the one he picked as his successor(putting in someone who would do his business for him)and then firing my Aunt Bertie and my grandmother. Also, he removed my Aunt Earnestine from her principalship. My Aunt Bertie went to Chicago and my grandmother soon followed.

My grandmother tells the story--has told it many times. There was a house for the principal out on the property of Autaugaville School, and Fess(McDavid) and my Aunt Bertie lived there. My grandmother tells it, that when he died, the white superintendent came out to the house and told my Aunt Bertie "you can stay here in the house if you like, the new principal's gonna stay in prattville. And make sure you bring your sister here to live with you." Now, as my grandmother tells it, this particular superintendent was known to like Black women, and not only that but certain people who I know myself it has been told got their jobs because of that--and also got jobs for their husbands. Anyway, my grandmother said when he told my Aunt Bertie that, she said my aunt starting moving from the house that night.

My Aunt Bertie, my Grandmother, my Aunt Betty, my Aunt Johnnie (who taught me), and my Uncle Archie, all lived in Chicago when I came along. All but Archie taught there ( he taught at one point, but in Ohio. He took up social work in Chicago-- and pulled my mother into that field).My Aunt Earnestine stayed in Alabama. My Uncle Lawrence taught school in Enterprise Alabama for a while (he never taught in Autauga County), but then he started working for the government.And My Aunt Sadie ran two day care centers in Birmingham (where she kept that little bitch, Condoleeza Rice), started Head Start Programs(got my Uncle Lawrence involved in it- which lead to his work with the government), designed clothes, and was a very industrious woman ( as well as having an affair with A.G. Gadsden (who had known my great grandfather when they were teenagers. My mother speaks quite frankly and bitterly about she and her cousin having to go out on the porch when Mr. Gadsden would come over).

All but my Aunt Earnestine were schooled under the tutelage of Fess McDavid (my Aunt Earnestine went to school in Clanton). My Aunt Earnestine had two Master's Degrees and worked on her doctorate, my grandmother has her bachelor's and worked on her Master's,My Aunt Johnnie and my Aunt Betty both have two Master's Degrees-- one a piece in Education and Library Science (they went to school together and helped each other),My Aunt Sadie had her Bachelor's,My Uncle Lawrence had his Bachelor's, and my Uncle Archie had multiple Bachlor's degrees in various fields including Biology and Social Work ( he stayed in school for twenty years and had seven majors and four minors--all degreed). This is my legacy and this is part of where I come from-- teachers and farmers, educators, and social workers.

Charles is sweet and beautiful. Very real. I had a good time last night...and the exploring continues.... he is magnificent....in every way.....

I just finished typing up my Play!!

Tonight I can't even sleep. I am restless...and I feel that the universe is coming together for me in some kind of way.The urgency of it is in my bones and I can't close my eyes-- I feel the need to get up and MOVE.The breeze outside is beautiful and Joao Gilberto is playing in my ears--- syncopation is the word of the night.

Don't ever tell me that Place doesn't matter. That is simply not TRUE. Place DOES matter!!! I am soo glad I got to the city today. I felt soo good and felt alive and in the land of the living. I hate lafayette, it lives in death, is stagnant-- I need progress. I soo empathized with Nicole Kidman's adaptation of Virginia Woolf.....what she said about needing a certain environment Rings true with me.... I want the city, I need the city....and I am going....