Six Impossible Things Before Breakfast

What a difference 32 Days Makes...

DRAT!

I missed the last day of our 32 Days of Black History blogathon yesterday. But let me echo my blogging partner, Deesha, in sending out a belated THANK YOU to everyone who commented or dropped by to read. An extra big THANK YOU to our blogathon participants Tami, Inkognegro, Christina, and Chris; as well as to our guest bloggers, Connie Divers Bradley, Tambay Obenson, Laina Dawes, Christopher Chambers, Tami Winfrey Harris, Dark Star, Troy Johnson, and Frances Dumas-Hines.

I'd like to express a very special thank you to Deesha for challenging me to up my own game with her insightful analyses and wonderful writing.

Not that I was totally successful at "upping my game." I still have about a half dozen draft 32Days posts sitting around. (Including one that I have wanted to finish for more than a year.) But because "Black history" is not just for a month but really lasts 365 days a year, I will not hesitate to post these at a later date.

Until then...

Justice (Still) Deferred...

Sometimes justice can be so elusive, can't it? Bad enough that often it is overdue. But then, when it finaly seems within our reach, it sometimes slips away...or we're only able to grab hold of a little piece of it...

These days eyes tend to be directed to the U.S Supreme Court, and the future of the battle over abortion choice and access. In this social context, it is easy to lose sight of the fact that historically, for many women the central reproductive struggle has not involved abortion rights. Instead it has involved the right to conceive, bear, and provide for their children, as well as the right to maintain the authority to be parents of their children. From the buying and selling of the children of African-ancestry parents to the forced placement into "boarding schools" of the children of Native American parents to current day social service practices regarding the termination of parental rights that disproportionately affect parents of color--This country has a pretty shameful history when it comes to disallowing some people their rights to become and remain parents.

A particularly egregious example of this is the history of forced sterilizations in this country in the name of "genetic fitness"--otherwise known as eugenics.

The targets of these forced sterilizations were folks who evidenced various combinations of being Black, poor, uneducated, deemed to be "promiscuous" or potentially promiscuous, deemed to be "feebleminded" or potentially so. These practices of sterilizing women and girls (and some men and boys) against their will and often without their knowledge sometimes went by the name "Mississippi appendectomies." A particularly aggressive program, however, occurred in North Carolina. From an excellent multipart program on the North Carolina efforts, "Against Their Will":

They were wives and daughters. Sisters. Unwed mothers. Children. Even a 10-year-old boy. Some were blind or mentally retarded. Toward the end they were mostly black and poor. North Carolina sterilized them all, more than 7,600 people.

For more than 40 years North Carolina ran one of the nation's largest and most aggressive sterilization programs. It expanded after World War II, even as most other states pulled back in light of the horrors of Hitler's Germany.

Some of these folks are still alive, still seeking justice--which means, of course, that they have had to come forward and publically share their stories:

In the file of Ernestine Moore, for instance, who was sterilized in 1965 in Pitt County at the age of 14, a social worker wrote that the people who lived near her were "of low incomes and low morals." Moore was classified as feebleminded, even though she wasn't.

In fact, the social worker wrote, "Ernestine has no appearance of retardation." Upon reading what was written in her file, Ms. Moore, 54, told The Journal that North Carolina should "pay for the pain" and suffering she's gone through since her sterilization.

In recent years, the state of North Carolina has agreed (story here). But, as fate would have it, carrying out this justice has not gone smoothly. Issues abound, regarding such things as where to get medical records to prove forced sterilization, whether or not such records are still available or had ever been kept at all, and adequately staffing efforts to process claims.

All signs look like justice will be delayed. Again. And my cynical side is whispering that there's a good chance justice may not come at all for these folks. Once again, they may have to make do with an official apology. For whatever (if anything) that is worth.

But. The hopeful side of me still has...hope. In the meantime, I will enjoy our State Fair this year much as I have every year since I began learning more about this country's eugenics past: With the ghostly narration in my mind of contests aimed at promoting good human stock along with the best ears of corn or plumpest sows.

(Image ID: 14) Title: Kansas State Free Fair, Topeka, Fitter Families Contest examining staff and "sweepstakes" winning family; Archival Information: AES,Am3,575.06,55

From the excellent site Image Archive on the American Eugenics Movement:

At most contests, competitors submitted an "Abridged Record of Family Traits," and a team of medical doctors performed psychological and physical exams on family members. Each family member was given an overall letter grade of eugenic health, and the family with the highest grade average was awarded a silver trophy. Trophies were typically awarded in three family categories: small (1 child), medium (2-4 children), and large (5 or more children).

All contestants with a B+ or better received bronze medals bearing the inscription, "Yea, I have a goodly heritage." Childless couples were eligible for prizes in contests held in some states. As expected, the Fitter Families Contest mirrored the eugenics movement itself; winners were invariably White with western and northern European heritage.

I've mentioned before about how important it is for me to keep such history in my mind as I continue with my interests in researching issues of families and genetics. Late summer, right before the start of another school year is as good a time as any to give myself a booster shot of memory. Memory for the "non-placers" in the clean genes fairground competitions. Memory for the folks who were denied the chance to bear children to take to fairs in the first place.

Get Up Offa That Thang!

A day late (and a dollar short)... But here finally is my last Music Friday (Saturday edition) 32Days music playlist. I was all set to do something high-brow. Perhaps some classic jazz, early female blues singers, an exploration into the borders of Black sacred and secular music...something along those lines.

But then I got to thinking about two things. The first was how my girl Deesha dissed my girl Janet (here--see comments). "Welllll, now, Yvette.....Janet is not really a singer, now, is she...but she is a mighty fine entertainer..." That got me thinking. Maybe I should be using my limited Black history space to dispel the myth that the only thing Black folks do is break out into dance at a moment's notice. But on the other hand, of course I am not ashamed of Black artists' contribution to the world culture in the form of music that gets your body moving, right?

The second thing: The other day I went to pick up my kids from extended day care at their school. Over in the corner were a group of kids (all White, all suburban) dancing the "soulja boy." I said excitedly to my daughter, "Oooo, look, they're doing the soulja boy! I'm gonna go over and join them!" To which my daughter replied--in a theatrical, loud whisper with a look of utter horror on her face, "No Mommy, please--Please do not go over and do the soulja boy!" Now, hopefully the fear my kid expressed was at the thought of her 40-something Mom busting a move in front of her friends and not the act of dancing itself.

But. Just in case. I hereby reclaim music to move by. With this playlist I proudly and loudly showcase several decades of Black Dance music!

La-Di-Da-Di
We likes to party
We don't cause trouble
We don't bother nobody...

Sometimes it is really no deeper than that. It's not about protest and social commentary, or chilling to the quiet storm, or breaking musical barriers. Sometimes it is merely about shaking that groove thang.

With this playlist I tried to imagine myself as a DJ at a family wedding, where I'd have to please several generations of folks. So there's music to Hustle and Bus Stop to; some tunes for the Steppers couples to step to; some old school hip-hop anthems and funk jams to break dance and Bump to... And of course the Electric Slide song so that everyone can line up and dance.

Oh yes--there is even "Pop, Lock and Drop It" and "Crank Dat Soul Ja Boy" for the young folks to dance to and the old folks to either watch and shake their heads or participate in and make fools of themselves. (And yes, I know what "soldier boy" and "superman" are slang for...) And of course there is Janet! (:-P~~ @ D, LOL!)

It's all in good fun. No one's watching. Come on. Get on the floor and move something.

Get Christie Love!

Yes, my 32Days music Friday post--the last of our Black history celebration--will be up tonight. In the meantime I offer this gem from classic TV land: part one of an episode of Get Christie Love!

I am somewhat ashamed to admit now that, at the time, I found this to be a liberating program. It was so rare I saw Black women in any roles at all on TV, but as powerful, kick-butt police women? That was truly a rarity. If you look at this clip, you'll see why I have a hard time admitting to this now. The show, it is now apparent, was chock full of stereotypes, demeaning images, stupid (and inaccurate) Black slang, and on and on.

Which begs the question: What does it say about me as a young Black girl and the 70s US society that I could look at something like this with a degree of pride and empowerment?

Well, while you ponder that, enjoy Teresa Graves--"the first black woman on TV to star in an hour long show"--kick some drug dealer butt!

A Trip to Family; A Trip Through Time

Deesha and I are honored to welcome yet another guest blogger to our 32 Days of Black History project. Originally from Chicago, Frances Dumas-Hines received her undergraduate degree from the University of Illinois, Champaign/Urbana. She received her doctorate from Purdue University (where for a time the two of us formed either half of the African American enrollment in our department!) After Purdue Frances held positions at Bowling Green State University and the University of Toledo before taking that giant leap for academia-kind to the non-academic sector. (I'll have to have Frances back on the blog to discuss this for those of us still in academia...) Currently she is Senior Modeler for marketing analytics at American General Financial Services. She lives in Evansville, Indiana with her hubby of 19 years and two brilliant and talented daughters. Today she is offering her reflections on a recent experience that melded Black history and personal/family history--something that has been a recurring theme here during our 32Days celebration. If you saw the most recent installment of African American Lives, you caught a glimpse of her on screen. If you missed it, you can check out a timeline of her family genealogy here.

I have often been envious or maybe just in awe of African Americans who are fortunate enough to trace their roots to Africa, particular if they can find the specific relative that made the trip across the ocean in that treacherous slave ship. I am not sure where this fascination originates. Perhaps I was just thoroughly impressed with Alex Haley’s television series, Roots, as I was thirteen years old at the time--quite an impressionable age. It was 1977 when this show aired, a time of “Say it loud I’m Black and I’m proud” and “Black is beautiful.” In any case, this envy, awe, or just shear curiosity was very recently satisfied when I was “introduced” to my great, great, great grandfather Tony Dumas, who was born about 1790....................in Africa!

The Gift

Finding him is something for which I can not really take credit. I almost want to say he was given to me as a gift just this past September. The event where I was introduced to him was one of the most exciting experiences of my life. I received a call from my sister Ethel in Chicago at about 9:00 pm on Monday, September 10th. She said that at the last minute (on Friday Morning of September 14th!) our cousin, Tom Joyner, wants to fly us out to Dallas for the taping of the PBS special African-American Lives2 where we will be presented with a wealth of family history.

So in true sistah form, what did I do? Set up an appointment to get my hair “did”! Bought new outfits and jewelry for each of the three days I’d be out there (even though two of those day were primarily just days in flight--but, hey, how often does something like this happen, right?!) And of course, I made sure the nails were done, both fingers and toes-- because, of course, even my toes could get some serious PBS airtime, one can never be too careful!

I was getting all dolled up for this event, without really even considering what this information meant to me.

So on Friday morning, with outfits in hand, I fly out to Dallas. Even though there are only 800 miles in between Evansville, IN and Dallas, TX, the last minute arrangements resulted in a three-plane trip to get there. As a consequence, I had plenty of travel time to get beyond my diva preparations and really think about the real reason for the trip.

I know a great deal about my mother’s genealogy, but very little about my father’s beyond my great grandfather. I had seen the first installment of African American Lives in February of 2007. My mind was filled with interesting anecdotes, harsh truths, and family stories that had been told to such notables as Oprah Winfrey, Mae Jemison, and Chris Tucker. Bad or good, I was finally going to get some information about my dad’s side of the family. The anticipation of receiving this news was bittersweet as my father, Thomas Dumas, had just passed away 7 months earlier. Though I was really excited about this trip, there were definitely some parts of it that were difficult to wrap my mind around.

Family Reunion

The gathering in Dallas was very much like a mini family reunion. It was a nice change of pace to see so much family without it being in the context of a funeral, which had been the case for the most recent of gatherings, including, again, the very recent funeral of my father. Typically in those situations, the enjoyment of being with family is always overshadowed by the fact that someone is permanently missing from that setting. For this occasion, however, there was just the pure enjoyment of seeing relatives on my father’s side of the family, some of which I had not seen in 30 years!

We joked about old times and introduced each other to new family members, as we were now all a generation further along since the last time we had seen each other. At some point the realization did hit me when seeing my dad’s three sisters, the last of the nine siblings, that they were just a shell of what they used to be. I can remember when they were in their heyday, laughing, joking, dancing, sassing. We are now that generation and I wonder if we create the same vivacious impression on our children that they did upon us. This gathering allows me to behold the circle of life in my family.

But enough of the sentimental narrative. The real reason for the trip was to occur in only a couple of hours after a good night’s sleep.

Ancestor Reunion

The morning of Saturday September 15th, Dr. Louis Gates Jr. (or “Skip” as I was given permission to call him as a fellow doctoral colleague) arrived with camera crew. After a relaxed breakfast, we were all assembled in the living room of Hercules Joyner, Tom’s father, who has since passed away after the taping of the show. Because Uncle Joyner (as we called him) had no siblings, family consisted primarily of the Dumas side. Gates introduced the session by first stating that he had conducted both a paper search and a DNA tracing of our ancestry. We were introduced to his main genealogist that was able to painstakingly piece together all of our records and documents to recreate our history. What took place after this introduction was a session that had a room full of family memorized for hours.

It was everything I had anticipated in the plane ride, everything one would think about when imagining what slavery was like for African Americans. Gates had stories of slaves and slave owners, of forbidden relationships, of African Americans being convicted of crimes they did not commit, of freed African Americans and what their lives were like during a time when most African Americans weren’t free. It was something befitting of an epic movie, or at least a television mini series.

And it was all from within my own family! How incredible!

The five hours we spent in taping, listening, discussing, and question-asking is too much information to recount for a blog. But let me give you some of the highlights of that day.

Found him!!! My link to Africa!!!

As I started this piece, I noted my delight in finding my ancestor Tony Dumas, who was born circa 1790 in Africa. My elation at finding this relative was quickly squelched as I discovered his plight in America. With an optimistic beginning, I learn that my great, great, great grandparents Tony and Clara Dumas had a very close relationship with their slaveowner, Obadiah Dumas. Their relationship was such that Obadiah agreed to free them upon his death and had this written in his will well before the time of his passing. There was a good deal of discussion during the taping about whether we thought that Tony and Clara knew of their slave master's decision. We hypothesized about the closeness of the relationship and decided that they must have known and greatly anticipated a point in life when they would be free. We were to eventually find out that Obadiah died in the same year that Alabama passed a law prohibiting the freeing of slaves via a will.

Tony and Clara live out the rest of their lives as slaves.

It’s a Direct Hit!

I also acquire a connection to the motherland during this trip. “Skip” produced the results of the DNA search and finds what they call a “direct hit” for the Dumas finally. A large clump of triangles shown to us on a map of Africa is located on the upper western coastal area of the continent. The country is called Guinea-Bissau and the genetic match is to a people called the Balanta.

Grandma Hiawatha

The discussion during the taping of the show was not without its humorous moments. One in particular focused on the topic of Native American Ancestry of African Americans. If you had a chance to view the PBS special, you probably noticed that Dr. Gates spent quite a bit of time discussing the phenomenon of African Americans claiming Native American Ancestry noting, however, that this lineal connection is very rare. In fact, Dr. Gates states that only 5% of African Americans have Native American Ancestry. Tom’s brother Albert questioned this assertion by stating that he was sure that we had a relative of Native American ancestry as there was a picture at their childhood home of a woman dressed in traditional Native American clothing. My sister Diana quickly interjected, “That lady was our grandmother. She was in a performance where she played Hiawatha!” (Despite the hilarity in that moment, those comments never made it to the show.)

The trip ended with Tom giving us a personal tour of Dallas including his home, radio station and newly purchased jet. I must say, I am so proud of him and his accomplishments. I am particularly proud of the way he has given back to the African-American community, which turns out to be a behavior that can be traced to our great grandfather, Isaac Dumas, who gave several acres of land to start a school that allowed African Americans in that part of Alabama to be able to attain an education.

I guess it’s true what they say: the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

And then as quick as the initial invitation to this event had come, it was all over and time for all of the family to be flown back to their respective homes. It was the end of our trip to Dallas, and our trip through time. And, sadly enough, it may be many years before we all get together in such a wonderful family gathering such as this again. But the excitement of this trip and the revelation of such a rich and varied family history will always remain a strong wonderful memory for me.

Black Lit: Past, Present and Future

Today our 32 Days of Black History celebration features a Q&A Deesha and I conducted with Troy Johnson, the founder and webmaster of AALBC.com LLC (The African American Literarture Book Club). AALBC.com was launched in 1998, and is now the largest and most frequently visited web site dedicated to books by and about black people. Johnson is also shareholder and Senior Book Editor, of the 4 year old, Harlem World Magazine. Troy has been recognized in articles that have appeared in Publishers Weekly, Essence Magazine, The New York Times, The Amsterdam News, Black Issues Book Review, Emerge Magazine, Black Enterprise and many other publications. He has also made numerous radio and television appearances including C-Span2’s Book TV and The Black Family Channel’s Literary Living. Troy holds a BS in Electrical Engineering from Syracuse University, an MS from Polytechnic University, and an MBA from New York University’s Stern School of Business. He lives in Harlem, New York, with his wife and two daughters. You can tell by this bio that Troy is a busy and motivated man with an entrepreneurial spirit. But in the years that I have known him as a cyber friend, I have known him to also be a man who is generous with his time and advice, as well as thoroughly passionate about books--and talking about books. Troy shares with us his thoughts on black literature, past and present, and a glimpse at what’s currently on his nightstand..

Q: Who would be on your short list of authors to watch, up-and-coming writers with promise?

A very short list off the top of my head: Dwight Fryer, Troy Cle, Eisa Ulen. Of course there are many, many more that I do not know.

Q: What's on your nightstand right now?

My response to this question is probably going to a lot more than you bargained for; I literally (pardon the pun) went into my bedroom and grabbed all of the books on my night stand. There were 12 books in all. The books have been on my nightstand anywhere from 24 hours to almost two years. These are all books I originally intended to complete. Right now they are in various stages of completion; and I already know some I will never finish. I also have books in my nightstand drawer and on a book shelf in a small bookshelf in my bedroom. I did not include these titles, but I intend to read those too. I should also mention that I don’t usually read in bed, and when I do I’m usually too tired to continue very long. In no particular order I found:

True to the Game II by Teri Woods

Despite Woods’ popularity on my web site, I’ve actually never read one her books. I decided I really needed to read at least one of her books – even if it is just to be a little more informed about her writing. Also the controversy with Caleb Alexander also piqued my interest. I’m about a ¼ of the way through it. I will probably abandon the book before I complete it. It is simply not really not my cup of tea.

Race Manners for the 21st Century: Navigating the minefield between Black and White Americans in the Age of Fear by Bruce A. Jacobs

This book was send to me by the publisher or the author. It seemed like an interested title. I have not started it.

Paths of Sanctuary by ihsan bracy

This book was submitted to AALBC.com for review. I read the first paragraph of this book and it seemed like a very interesting read. The prose was quite lyrical reminded me of Jean Toomer’s Cane or John R. Keene’s book Annotations.

Home Schoolin’ by Jerry Craft

This is Jerry Craft’s second book of comics from his popular syndicated strip. This book would appeal to people of all ages. I’ve been skimming it since this Summer.

Check the Technique: Liner Notes for Hip-Hop Junkies by Brian Coleman

This is a really cool book for quick read at bedtime. Basically this book is a series of in depth liner notes of Rap albums from back in the day. The book is chock full of information and each of the chapters can be read independently. The last piece I read was the “liner notes” for the Classic LP Criminal Minded by Boogie Down Productions. I’d forgotten about the tough road KRS-One traveled to get to where he is today.

Half of a Yellow Sun by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

This book is critically acclaimed. I have not spoken to s single person who has read it that did not absolutely love it. When I come across a title like this I try to read at least a portion of it. So far this one is not really grabbing me. I’m a little disappointed – cause there is nothing like a great novel.

Come on People by Bill Cosby and Alvin Poussaint

I was one of the judges for this year’s Essence Literary Awards and this title was one of the nominees in the Current Affairs category. This is one of the few books on my nightstand that I actually completed. It was a quick read and contained no revelations. However it is an important book simply because we can not draw too much attention to the current crisis situation in our community.

Of Water and the Spirit: Ritual, Magic, and initiation in the life of an African Shaman by Malidoma Patrice Some

This book has only been on my night stand for 1 day. It was given to me by a friend who teaches mediation and yoga. We were talking about spirituality and she this book, originally published in 1994, was amazing. It will probably be the next book I actually complete.

The Mis-Education of the Negro by Carter G. Woodson

This is frequently a best selling book on my the AALBC.com web site. I read it many years ago. However given the number of Black people who I’ve spoken to that chose not to support Barack Obama’s Presidency – I feel like I need to read this classic again.

I heard Green discuss this book, on CSpan2, a year or two ago. The discussion and this subject really fascinates me. It has been on my nightstand the longest. This book keeps getting pushed back in the queue, in favor of books which require less concentration. I’m usually too tired to follow this book by the time I get into bed. If I do have the energy it is used for other activities…

W.E.B. Du Bois: Biography of a Race 1868 – 1919 by David Levering Lewis

Perhaps one of our greatest Black intellects, I’m really interested in learning more about this important man. Lewis’ biographies are critically acclaimed so I figured this would be a good place to start. I’ve barely made a dent in this one.

Don’t Blame it on Rio: The Real Deal Behind Why Men Go to Brazil for Sex by Jewel Woods and Karen Hunter

This is actually an advance reading copy of a book due for publication in April of this year. The title and cover intrigued me. I had no idea this was such a pervasive activity. It seemed odd to me that so many dudes would travel all the way to South America when you could get yourself “plenty” in the states. Then again I have a buddy I used to call Joe “Gotta go to Rio” Brown. So far the book is a little too anecdotal for me, but I’ve only read the first 40 pages.

Q: What black authors/books do you find particularly underrated?

Honestly I can’t say. The market seems to be somewhat efficient in recognizing talent. I bet one can argue that there are more overrated authors. That said many agents tell me they know of many authors worthy of publication that are not being published…

Q: Name five Black authors, living or not, who you'd love to be in a book club with. What book would you all read and why? What do you think their reactions to that book would be?

Phillis Wheatley – Anything she has written
Wheatly was born in Africa, but managed to learn English, Greek and Latin. She is also one of the first Black writers to be published in this country.

Aesop - Aesop's Fables
This would just be a fascinating conversation.

Jean Toomer – Cane
This was the first book on our on-line reading group’s reading list. It is actually one of my favorites too. It was a wonderfully written, slim little book, which I will go back and read again sometime this decade.

James Baldwin – Price of the Ticket
This is a book contains Baldwin’s work compiled from 1948 to 1985. It would be interesting to discuss his work in today’s context

Ralph Ellison – Invisible Man
I read this a classic book in high school. I don’t recall really understanding it very well. I need to re-read this one as an adult.

Integration--At What Cost?

This week, we welcome guest blogger Dark Star to our 32 Days of Black History celebration. At Dark Star Spouts Off, he gives you his straight-no-chaser views about politics, media, and popular culture, particularly as they relate to black folks. Twice (and counting), Dark Star has been invited to share his views on NPR’s Blogger Roundtable (here and here). Today, he shares with us his best-laid plans for blogging about Black history.

I was going to blog about Black history and how the events in my family's background is woven into the basic Black history we learned.

My family came from South Carolina and settled in Baltimore and New York as part of the Northern Migration. Members of my family became nurses after having been school at the Negro Nursing School named Provident Hospital. (I blogged about it here.)

I was going to write about a late great aunt who was a member of The Links. I remember her going to a lot of social events but it wasn't until she passed did I discover how much The Links meant to her and how much she meant to The Links.

Instead, the other day I read a letter to the editor from Mychal Massie and that all changed. You see, I had to wonder why discussions about closing Historically Black Colleges and Universities (HBCUs) always seem to bubble up and why the question is never asked, "Why don't we close Historically White Colleges and Universities (HWCUs)".

And, I'm very serious about this.

I wrote a response to it here and a follow-up to it here.

Why does integration have to come at the expense of Black history?

It's bad enough that Fisk is in financial trouble. It's bad enough that Morgan State University has to fight the Maryland regents and beg the Maryland State Assembly to get money for infrastructure and to improve programs? Periodically, the Maryland State Assembly floats the idea of merging Morgan State University and Coppin State University. But why should either school lose their history?

At a recent family gathering, I heard the older family members reminisce about skipping school to see James Brown and the Jaybees and seeing each other there as well as their teachers. From time to time, they laugh about two or three of the families living under one roof. They laugh, and argue, about who did the "real work" in my grandfather's coal and wood business.

When I talk with my mother and cousins, I sit back and marvel at the tales of everyone sitting around the table on Friday evening, my grandfather spreading out the money earned that week, and grandfather and grandmother sorting the money to pay the bills. I don't want to lose that Black history, so I have decided to use my video camera to capture my family history.

And if you have attended an HBCU, please give them money. Please help keep them around for a spell.

Three Moments...

Several brief 32Days posts today to make up for my missing the entire weekend due to illness...

Often Black history is presented in February in bite-sized chunks. Just a quote, a couple of biographical notes, a handful of facts. In addition to lasting only a moment, the information these presentations relay are often framed as "moments" as well: e.g., "The moment that changed..."

What the moment frame does well is highlight that every decision, every act has the potential to make great change. But what the moment frame leaves out is how no moment happens in a vacuum. Every moment is tied to ones before, and will be followed by more to come. Even moments that may seem "spur of the" are often the result of careful planning, or reflection, or searching of the soul. Sometimes The moment does not become clear as The One until after the moment has passed.

Today, then, I'll just give you three moments--just three out of many. I hope you'll follow the links to learn more about the moments surrounding the moments.

1. Moment of Eternity

Suddenly, I’m doing project after project since Ossie has been gone, and I’m going, mmm hmm, there is something to this life after. He’s up there picketing or pulling strings or something, Both of us always believed in the strange power of the eternal life. Life can’t die. It’s a contradiction. So he’s still working up there.

~Ruby Dee,
Best Supporting Actress Academy Award nominee

* Ruby Dee Wikipedia page
* Oscar.com nominee page
* Black Tree Media interview with Ruby Dee about her American Gangster role and the movie generally

2. Moment of Pride

Oh man, I never felt such a rush of pride. Even hearing "The Star Spangled Banner" was pride, even though it didn't totally represent me. But it was the anthem which represented the country I represented, can you see that? They say we demeaned the flag...that's the American flag and I'm an American. But I couldn't salute it in the accepted manner, because it didn't represent me fully; only to the extent of asking me to be great on the running track, then obliging me to come home and be just another nigger.

~Tommie Smith
As quoted in the Spring 2008 issue of American Legacy

*American Legacy Spring 2008 cover story

*Tommie Smith's website

*John Carlos' website

*Wikipedia entry on the 1968 Mexico City Summer Olympics

*Video tribute on YouTube

3. Moment of Liberation

Fifteen seconds after … I had the most wonderful feeling. I had a feeling of liberation, restored manhood. I had a natural high. And I truly felt almost invincible. Mind you, [I was] just sitting on a dumb stool and not having asked for service yet.

It's a feeling that I don't think that I'll ever be able to have again. It's the kind of thing that people pray for … and wish for all their lives and never experience it. And I felt as though I wouldn't have been cheated out of life had that been the end of my life at that second or that moment.

~Franklin McCain
NPR interview on the anniversary of the Feb. 1, 1960 Woolworth lunch counter sit-in

* NPR story
* Smithsonian's exhibit Separate is Not Equal: Brown v. Board of Education
* Independent Lens site for the film February One: The Story of the Greensboro Four

Prince Revolutions

It's Friday and that means MUSIC here during our 32 Days of Black History blogathon! And I wouldn't be properly representing the Twin Cities if I didn't dedicate one of these Fridays to the music of Prince.

Covers and Collaborations

You really can tell that an artist has become knit into the fabric of a culture when you find so many of that artist's work interpreted by others. So for this first playlist, I feature some of my favorite Prince covers by other artists. The most classic of these, IMO, is Chaka Kahn's rendition of "I Feel For You." I do consider myself a huge Prince fan, but I often scandalize myself in the eyes of Prince purists when I say that I actually like this version better than Prince's original. Recent Grammy winner Herbie Hancock interpreted "Thieves in the Temple" from his '95 New Standard album. Also here are the well known covers of Alicia Keys' version of "How Come You Don't Call Me Anymore" and TLC's "If I Was Your Girlfriend." But I also found one I hadn't heard before: Etta James doing up "Purple Rain." (Alas, I could not locate a version of Aaliyah's "When Doves Cry.") Not all these versions are great (or even good), but it is interesting to hear how others take on these tunes.

Now, also here are Prince's versions of other folks' music. So you'll hear classic soul ("Betcha By Golly Wow" and "Sing a Simple Song") as well as more recent singer-songwriter tunes by Sheryl Crow ("Everyday is a Winding Road") and Bonnie Raitt ("I Can't Make You Love Me"). And what do you do with "Nothing Compares 2 U"? A Prince remake of a Sinead O'Connor Prince song... Oh well, whatever: that 's in there too.

To round things out, also included in this first player are a few tunes by Prince proteges and collaborators. The Time, Vanity 6, The Family, Sheila E's "A Love Bizarre"...

What'd I miss here? Are there some favorite covers or Prince&co. songs of yours that I did not include?

Post Purple Rain: "Tell Me What's My Name"

A friend and I were talking once when these words came out of her mouth "I really don't like much of Prince's stuff after Purple Rain."

Well, I thought she was my friend.

Seriously, though. I know being a Prince fan post-Purple Rain entailed a high tolerance for a certain amount of drama. The label battle. The knee-high purple gangsta rapper phase. The butt-out pants on national TV. And of course, the name to symbol change and back again. But Prince really did some of his best work after Purple Rain, if you ask me.

I've tried to highlight some of it here (without leaning too heavily on my dozen or so favorites from his mega-release Crystal Ball). "Dolphin" and "Joy in Repetition" are actually two of my favorite Prince songs ever, pre- or post-PR. And Under the Cherry Moon may have been was a horrible movie compared to Purple Rain, but I could have easily included most of the songs from Parade instead of settling for just "New Position," "Mountains," and "Anotherloverholenyohead." Absolutely need a hard rocking party anthem a la "Let's Go Crazy" or "Baby I'm a Star" from Purple Rain? Then try "Acknowledge Me" (Crystal Ball) and of course "My Name is Prince" (O(+>). Listen to my picks and let me know some of yours!

Anyway, happy Black History music Friday from the land of ten thousand (frozen solid) lakes--from me and Prince to you!

32Days Music Extra

I have a playlist coming up later today. (I'll give you some hints: I live in the Twin Cities, today I am wearing a purple pendant, and I drive a Corvette. [Well, actually drive a VW wagon, but one can dream.])

In the meantime, click here for a music extra from Audra McDonald on NPR:

Four time Tony Award-winning performer Audra McDonald brings her luminous, lyrical soprano and impeccable acting skills to this concert, exploring works from her new CD Build a Bridge. The album features tunes by rising Broadway songwriters Adam Guettel and Michael John LaChiusa as well as pop songwriters Rufus Wainwright and John Mayer.

"My black history: Raising the dead"

Please welcome another 32Days guest blogger, Tami Winfrey Harris! Tami blogs at What Tami Said, where she describes herself as a "wife, womanist, writer, stepmother, music lover, black woman, sister, nappy advocate, American, yogi, bibliophile, daughter, student, Midwesterner, progressive, gardener, eccentric." (Whew!) Tami is a contributor to the upcoming anthology, What We Think:Gender Roles, Women’s Issues and Feminism in the 21st Century , coming to bookstores in March 2008. A communications and marketing professional, Tami lives in the Midwest with her husband and stepson.

I've been trying to raise the dead. With faded photographs, copied records, old death certificates, family hearsay and e-mails from long-lost cousins. I am an amateur family historian. And this is what I do.

Here is one rule of resurrection. It is easier to bring a dead man to life than a woman. The men—you find them in military records, land deeds, court records and prominent in the memories of their descendants. The women—they prove more elusive.

In a short biography of one family patriarch, William Staples, another family historian tells how, as a young boy, William was sold for a small sum of coins, how he grew to be "tall and strappingly built," how he earned a reputation of being bold and courageous, how he served in the Civil War, how he crafted and sold baskets into his golden years. Of William's wife Abbey, who worked alongside him and bore him 12 children, the biographer says only: "She was a good wife and mother, an excellent homemaker, a midwife and a quilt maker."

But my foremothers mean the most to me. We are all women. History tells me that their lives were harder and much different than mine, but I wonder if any of our hopes, dreams and worries are the same. What part of them remains in me? Are my wide hips like Josephine's? Am I tall like Lucinda? Am I independent like Violet? Do I walk like Maggie? So I dig, and with the scraps of their lives that I can find, try to assemble a woman. And I imagine my ancestors peering over my shoulder as I work, like ghosts waiting to materialize.

Here is what I know.

Josephine was born in 1893 in Christian County, Kentucky, to James and Alice Taylor. Folks called her "Josie." Josie married a boy named Otho Tillotson, who lived with his family just down Bradshaw Road. I have a photograph of them together. Josie, beside her handsome, baby-faced husband, has full lips, a cloud of hair and deep-set, almond eyes. Josie had six children—just one girl, my grandmother, who she named Georgia Alice, after her mother and mother-in-law. She did not live to see those children grow to adulthood. Josephine Taylor Tillotson, my maternal great-grandmother, died of pyemia at age 30, just months after giving birth to her youngest son.

Lucinda Fortson was born into bondage in 1835. I don't know to whom she belonged. It may have been W.H. Fortson, who owned a large plantation in Christian County and held some 30 slaves. Lucinda had at least three children. Only the last, my maternal great-great-grandmother, Georgia, was born free, in 1866. Georgia's father was named Abe Holland. Were Abe and Lucinda ever allowed to marry? Was he sold to some far-flung plantation? Did the War take him? Or did he walk away? Whatever Lucinda's relationship with Abe Holland, by 1870, he was gone, and Lucinda was living with her three children and working as a servant in the home of the Massey family. Like many former slaves, Lucinda could not read or write. The 1870 census taker left a perfect check in the 18th column next to Lucinda's name, labeling her (and her eldest child) either "deaf and dumb, blind, insane or idiotic."

I found an old photograph of Violet's master, Absalom Farrar Winfrey, sitting in front of his home in Poplar Creek, Mississippi. There, behind the grim, plain-faced plantation owner and his family, is Violet, her face in shadow, only her long, white dress visible, half-materialized in the doorway like a phantom. My paternal great-great-grandmother, Violet, was born in North Carolina, but soon separated from her family and shipped to Mississippi and servitude with the Winfrey family. In 1859, she married Constantine, who was also owned by the Winfreys. Violet and her husband served the family until emancipation came. Once free, and given a chance to choose a last name, Constantine chose "Winfrey." Violet; however, seemed never to have a last name, or at least not one that was recorded. In some sources she is listed as "Violet A. Violet." I like to think that made her doubly her own woman.

My paternal great-grandmother, Maggie, was born in 1881 in Mississippi. By 16, she was a wife and soon-to-be mother. Some records list Maggie as "black," some "mulatto." Her grandson, my father, remembers very little about her, except that she was "quiet and had pretty, grey eyes."

I've been trying to raise the dead. Because I want my foremothers—Abbey, Josephine, Lucinda, Violet and Maggie—to live in the hearts and minds of their descendants. These women will never know the personal freedoms and successes that I enjoy, but they possessed courage that I can never imagine. They are courageous simply for being wives, mothers and black women in a time when their race and gender made them vulnerable fourth-class citizens. So I continue on with my faded photographs, copied records, old death certificates, family hearsay and e-mails from long-lost cousins. I am an amateur family historian. And this is what I do.

Reviving Claudette, Re-storying the Montgomery Bus Boycott

Rosa Parks and the Montgomery, AL bus boycott. It is a Black History Month story as familiar as King's I Have a Dream, Tubman's Railroad journeys, and George Washington Carver's peanuts. It is--rightly--an oft-told tale every February. But there was another Montgomery bus ride, by a young woman who didn't spark the boycott, even though her protest predated Mrs. Park's by several months. This was a ride by one of those names that school children (and most of us) do not know: Claudette Colvin.

Happily, Colvin's story is starting to gain more traction in the retelling of this episode in the 20th century Black Civil Rights Movement. The Montgomery Advertiser's History of the Boycott site, for example, has a page dedicated to her:

On March 2, 1955, she, just as Parks had, openly refused to give up her seat on a Montgomery segregated bus to a white passenger. Her arrest preceded the arrest of Parks by nine months.

She was only 15 years old at the time. At the time, she was a member of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People Youth Council.

Her act of civil defiance did not spark a bus boycott as Parks’ arrest did. Some controversy surrounded the use of Colvin as a test case to challenge seating practices in the Capital City. Some leaders were reluctant to use Colvin, who later became pregnant, and gave birth about a year after her arrest.

Other more recent stories have gone deeper. This one, for example, names the things that we African Americans still have trouble openly discussing: intra-racial class, color, and gender bias:

[U]nlike Parks, Colvin never made it into the civil rights hall of fame. Just as her case was beginning to catch the nation's imagination, she became pregnant. To the exclusively male and predominantly middle-class, church-dominated, local black leadership in Montgomery, she was a fallen woman. She fell out of history altogether.

...Colvin was also very dark-skinned, which put her at the bottom of the social pile within the black community - in the pigmentocracy of the South at the time, and even today, while whites discriminated against blacks on grounds of skin colour, the black community discriminated against each other in terms of skin shade. The lighter you were, it was generally thought, the better; the closer your skin tone was to caramel, the closer you were perceived to be to whatever power structure prevailed, and the more likely you were to attract suspicion from those of a darker hue.

Is it ever too late to elaborate in the text what had previously just been a footnote? Is it ever too late to sing the songs of those who had been unsung? Hopefully it is not too late for us to learn about and remember Claudette Colvin.

*Awele Makeba's one-woman play Rage is Not a 1-Day Thing!: The Untaught History of the Montgomery Bus Boycott that is told from the perspective of a 15-year old Colvin. (2005 Stanford Daily review here.)
*Wikipedia page
*Claudette Colvin as part of a project at the Booker T. Washington Magnet High School, "Taking the Time: Young Writers and Old Stories"
*One of several recent efforts to analyze how we relate to children Rosa Parks' and others' roles in the bus boycott is She Would Not Be Moved: How We Tell the Story of Rosa Parks and the Montgomery Bus Boycott by Herbert Kohl

Culture's Legs: Books and Black History Legacy

Deesha and I have another great guest blogger to help us observe and mark our 32 Days of Black History blogathon. Christopher Chambers is a bestselling fiction author, a professor at Georgetown University, and blogger (Nat Turner's Revenge). His upcoming works include The Darker Mask (graphic anthology with Gary Phillips and Walter Mosley), Yella Patsy's Boys and Amos n' Andy. When you're through reading Chris's words, please take a moment to browse Deesha's 32Days posts, as well as those of blogathon participants Tami; Inkognegro; Christina; and Chris.

"Journalism is History's first draft."

Now Journalism--ethics, truth, standards, objectivity, professionalism--is all but dead. Replaced with "info-tainment," rank punditry, lurid and silly ratings- grabbing craveness. Stupid rules. Sex (and I don't mean real sex, but adolescent porn notions of sex) sells. If it bleeds, it leads. So much for History this Black History Month.

And if Journalism is History's first draft, what is art, reading--books? Books, I'd say, are Culture's legs. Maybe not its heart or backbone or brain. After all there's music, dance, visual and fine arts. Yet Culture stands on the written word, the record of dreams, aspirations, yearnings, fears, triumphs, disappointments. What is our legacy going to be for Black History Months to come?

Sadly, it is stuff being peddled and controlled by huge white-owned media companies, packaged as "literature" or memoirs. A memoir of Barbara Jordan, or Michael Jordan, or Ralph Bunche is a memoir. The Video Vixen--bestselling author and name-dropping ho' to rappers and sports stars--no that's just porn and gossip. "Superhead" she calls herself, as middle aged church ladies and young women who'd be better off reading guides on money management and paying for college gobble up (smile) her tips on fellating yet another "rap mogul." Then we come to fiction. "Ghetto Lit," Street Fiction. And sappy romances. And "mama I want a thug but my baby needs diapers" parables. And cheesy melodramatic soap operas, rife with cliche heroines and villains and backstabbers...

...whew I'm out of breath!

No big deal? At least our people are reading in an age of declining literacy? Wrong. This is our legacy, our contribution to our story...to history. We have young people who think this stuff really is history, or real literature or true heroic tales. They a story speaks to them as if a soap opera is a documentary. As if Tyler Perry's House of Payne is The Wire, or are interchangeable. I have likened this stuff to Twinkies, to cake. These are treats. Brain candy. Dessert. To be eaten only as a treat, as a reward or after dinner sweet once you've dined on a sumptuous main course, or a new adventure in food. But no, we have allowed ourselves--and these huge corporations have become the pushers--to flip the script. Candy, dessert, the brain candy becomes dinner. It displaces dinner. It marginalizes dinner. The result? What happens when you eat to much junk, too much tasty candy. Your teeth rot. You are fat, bloated. Eventually you may very well die if you don't change, as you spin the healthcare system out of cost-control taking every expensive medication you can afford. Yet all it takes is a balanced diet, some exercise. But sadly, that seems too much to ask of folks. And so we enter more Black History Months a little fatter, brains numb with candy.And we loose voices of art, of literature. Of history as vivid, breathing, evolving. Instead, history is a marketing gimmick. A product. A cliche. Something sweet to gorge on, or something to be used by hucksters and demagogues. No big deal, eh? Think again.

So what to do? History--our History--and our Culture is rife with debates and ideas. We must debate with maturity and a lack of bravado this issue of this crack or Twinkies for the brain in our books. We must find alternatives for these legs of Culture and writers of History to find an outlet. More publishing venues owned by us. More awareness and education for our young people. Scholarships, fellowships. Parents who care enough to have their kids read. Adults who care enough to avoid the brain candy and enrich themselves first. Notice here my solutions lend toward the personal, the spiritual, for unless Bill Gates or Bob Johnson or Sumner Redstone of Viacom or the hedge fund managers and foreign investors who really own Simon and Schuster or Random House suddenly have Ebenezer Scrooge epiphanies, nothing structurally is going to change soon.

Nevertheless, in the end, all History, all Culture, is personal, and it can change if we show the will to change it. That notion is was African Americans' gift to the United States. That was in our literature, our Jazz, our Blues, our synthesis that gave us all strength and hope. Don't believe me? Go read it in a good book--you'll see.

Must See BHM TV

Check your PBS listings for this evening...

Banished: American Ethnic Cleansings

From the 1860s to the 1920s, towns across the U.S. violently expelled African American residents. Today, these communities remain virtually all white. As black descendants return to demand justice, BANISHED exposes the hidden history of racial cleansing in America.

Interview with film's director, Marco Williams on NPR here.

History News Network interview with Elliot Jaspin, author of Buried in the Bitter Waters: The Hidden History of Racial Cleansing in America, here.

Solid As a Rock: BHM and Black Rock

I am happy to welcome to our 32 Days of Black History blogathon guest blogger Laina Dawes. Laina is a writer and music critic from Toronto, Canada. I first "cyber met" Laina when I began reading her columns in the Race, Ethnicity & Culture section (which she heads) for Blogher.com. Her writings appear in various print and online publications in both Canada and the US. She also has on her own blog, Writing is Fighting.

I’m listening to the jukebox I created for this post, and I’m feeling pretty damned pleased with myself. The program I used isn’t even all that hot as I couldn’t find a lot of music that I was really looking for, but this mix will suffice. See, it really doesn’t matter what is posted on here because the crux of it is, you either dig aggressive music – the heavy, punishing beats, screeching guitar riffs and howling, sometimes not-so melodic vocals – or you don’t. And that’s okay, really it is.

As I previously wrote about Black History Month on my blog, in previous years I have a written a scathing diatribe about why I dislike this month. It’s has always seemed to me as though ‘we’ have one month to learn how to like each other, get along and then for the rest of the year, it is business as usual. In hindsight, I think that the real reason for my dissatisfaction is that even though it is a time where I can socialize with Black writing and creative colleagues that I only seem to see during this month, I realize that while we have our professional ambitions in common, on a personal level, I really do not have anything in common with them. Therefore, the month has meant a time that reinforces my social isolation.

I do not have a rich Black cultural heritage; a rich family legacy to fall back on. I do not have Black parents nor siblings that I have learned how to be ‘Black’ from. Who I am is what I have learned to be – partly because of the natural instinct for humans to survive in this screwed-up world and partly because of my own personal preferences that have developed from my (somewhat turbulent) childhood. A large part of my preferences are surrounded around my passion for metal music and its rich and challenging culture.

I thrive off its aggression, its power and its pain. Honestly, it is the metal scene that has gotten me through my most difficult times and even at 30+ it still challenges me and drives me to succeed. For several years, I have written about how I firmly believe that metal music (okay, perhaps not some of its cultural aspects) is a safe and healthy (I can hear you laughing at me now) way for Black folks, specifically Black women, to vent their frustrations out. But as I have two passions – one being the music and the other is writing about race and social justice issues – sometimes the two clash. It is my mission to make them mesh. In order to have the two habituate in a functional way, for the past few years I have been looking at the general reluctance of the black community to embrace the genre of music that they created: Rock n’ Roll.

It’s not just about liking or disliking rock and its bastardized brothers – punk, metal, etc. – it’s about recognizing them as genres of music that while they might burn your throat and ruin your palate, some folks like them…yes, even folks who look like you. While a number of people have chided the black community for figuratively abandoning and totally ignoring our place in rock and roll history, even questioning the racial allegiance of Jimi (but was he even considered a brotha?) and while some of us got down with Living Color for a hot minute, if it wasn’t for young white guys, the incredibly hot quartet, along with punk legends…..yeah I said punk – Bad Brains, would have faded into obscurity.

The term Black Rock is a funny, schizophrenic thing. What is it? Does it just mean Negroes playing guitars loudly and shrieking with wild abandon? According to Boldaslove’s Rob Fields, it is more than noting the representation of black men and women musicians and it certainly does not mean that just because they are black that we are obligated to all run out and buy their albums, or that they are even good, for that matter – it is about reclaiming and celebrating a genre that has largely been ignored by us in the African Diaspora:

…..Black rock is a term I’ll continue to employ not only in this dialogue that attempts to re-connect African Americans to music they created, but also as a means of mounting an ongoing and worthwhile effort to overcome ridiculous limitations imposed from within and without. In my estimation, the former must come first.

What I like about Rob’s assertion was that he articulated the mild annoyance I feel when people automatically assume that as a music journalist that I must only write about Hip-Hop, or that as a Jamaican (by blood, not by birth) I have an affinity for reggae (which for the most part, I loathe). There are limitations that are imposed not just by those who automatically think that because of your ethnicity you must be interested in only specific genres of music, but what is more troubling to me is when one bases their black ‘authenticity’ by the music – and by extension, culture – they favor. Our younger (or at least, mine) has eschewed the writings of Franz Fanon, James Baldwin, Toni Morrison and embraced the music of Soulja Boy, TI and other artists who extol consumerism over black empowerment. While admittedly I occasionally shake my expansive rear-end to their tunes, they do not exactly spend a lot of time extolling the virtues of modern black life and culture. And that’s okay….really. We all need to get our freak-on after a stressful day at work or school. Let’s just not get it twisted that these artists are a true representative of contemporary black culture and that we should refer to their artistic contributions as genuine reflections of us.

So back to the matter at hand. The reason why I am so psyched about seeing my brothers and sisters play the music that I have been passionate about since I was a kid, mesmerized by the makeup and over-the-top glam of KISS, is what it represents. The energy is not only addictive, momentarily sending me into an alternative universe where I can be free for a hot second, but also, because these are artists who are doing what they want to do, despite the social, political and monetary implications. There are artists who are either around my age and perhaps a bit older, whose musical influences were spawned by music that didn’t just flow from their neighbor’s front stoop but from what was playing on Top 40 radio. There are also those, who, perhaps looking for an alternative to what they are ‘told’ is ‘black music’ which not only they should adhere to out of allegiance to their race, but because it somehow marks their cultural authenticity. You can be proud to be black and still be of independent mind and being, can you can love all types of music and still be down with the cause.

The music that I selected for the jukebox is a great representation of black rock music. Some of the bands consist of entirely black musicians while other bands have one or more black members. Some bands, like Bad Brains, Soul Brains (an offshoot of BB), Living Colour, Fishbone and 24-7 Spyz infuse reggae, jazz and soul music with hard rock.

I’ve also added in my personal Shero, Skin, who fronted one of my favourite bands, Skunk Anansie. Another female musician in the mix is Sandra St. Victor – but please note, the tracks on this mix are from her solo album, which is actually more R&B-ish. Not being able to find any tracks from her band The Family Stand which is a legendary rock/funk/soul collective, I wanted to have her represented as one of the most important black female rock singers.

On the heavier side, there is Killswitch Engage’s frontman Howard Jones, whose soulful voice could probably be perfectly accompanied with any genre of music, but Killswitch (he is the only Black member) can be classified as hardcore metal. There is also the awesome God Forbid whom I am currently obsessed with, and of course Living Colour, whom no explanation is required. Also, Lajon from Sevendust has been ‘bringing it’ for a number of years, as well as Doug Pinnick from King’s X – which if you have a chance, should see them live. Awesome.

I recently interviewed Eugene S. Robinson from Oxbow and asked him how he describes his music. He said that as all of the members are artists he views the band ( which was conceived over 20 years ago) he refers to them as more as ‘performance art’ versus falling under any musical categorizations. I would suggest you check out their website! In the same vein, I suppose you could also look at Indie-hipster wunderkinds, TV on the Radio the same way, as their music ranges from 80’s pop to indie rock. There is also hardcore / experimental metal legends Candira which recently broke up but their music made a huge impact. Singer Carley Coma is probably one of the most underrated frontmen in history. Just my opinion, of course.

Obviously, there are a ton of other Black artists that are doing their own thing and doing it well. Most of them are not getting the exposure or support that they deserve, but the same could be said for thousands of artists, regardless of color or gender. If interested, the best way to search for these bands is Myspace – seriously. Start with a band that you know, and check out their “Friends” and I guarantee that you will be on an interesting journey.

We black folks are strong, resilient and throughout our history in North America, we have been forced to forgive the many sins that have fallen on us by people who do not share our ethnicity. Maybe it is because of that I have always had a hard time understanding why we are so quick to judge each other on our individual artistic preferences. I’m not saying that rock music will change the world, but perhaps embracing the art that our people conceived might give us a mechanism for not only social change, but as a way to vent our internal thoughts an emotions in a healthy way.

Enjoy your Black History Month.

Keep Your Eyes on His Hands

Robert Glasper's hands--on the piano keyboard, that is.

Today's 32Days theme is "Black to the Future," where Deesha and I highlight "ones to watch"...those young, up-and-coming, Black history makers of tomorrow. Glasper is one I've been watching, and listening to, since his first album.

Two years ago he sat down with Marian McPartland to talk shop and to play:

Born and raised in Houston, pianist Robert Glasper literally grew up in jazz clubs. His mother performed with a jazz band, and she preferred to bring her young son with her, rather than leave him with a sitter. Glasper and his mother were also active in music at their church — his mother sang and played piano, and by age 12, her son had assumed some of the piano duties.

...After high school, Glasper moved to New York to study music at the New School. He began gigging around town and found work with such established jazz artists as Christian McBride and Russell Malone. Glasper has gone on to work with Nicholas Payton, Roy Hargrove, Terence Blanchard and Jeremy Pelt.

Glasper's two Blue Note releases, 2005's Canvas and 2007's In My Element, have both received glowing reviews. Jazz critics praised his adventurous approach and fresh style, while noting the influences of pianists such as McCoy Tyner, Herbie Hancock and Keith Jarrett. The mainstream press has taken notice, too, drawing attention to Glasper's hip-hop-inflected rhythms and his associations with artists such as Mos Def, Common, Q-Tip and Erykah Badu.

Glasper performs regularly with his own trio, which includes Damion Reid on drums and Vincente Archer on bass. He is also known to play small club dates in New York as a part of The Robert Glasper Experiment, in which he further explores the intersection of hip-hop and jazz, with some neo-soul and funk thrown in.

His set list on that program includes an impressive range--from his own "Rise and Shine" to "Monk's Dream" and even a little Charlie Parker thrown in for good measure. He is definitely worth a listen. He is definitely worth the hope that jazz as a musical genre has not died, and will continue to grow well into the future in the country that birthed it.

Please check out 32 Days of Black History blogathon partner Deesha's "Black to the Future" post for today here.

Where is Gabon?

I am cheating and post-dating this. Saturday the 32Days topic was Africa. Deesha has a post up about writer Chris Abani. I will present something not nearly as literary, but hopefully you'll have some fun with and learn something from it.

Both my daughters are currently involved in their school with a "Children of he World" unit. As part of this unit, they had to choose a country to research and prepare a poster and oral presentation for. Both requested from their teachers that they be assigned an African country. Really. I had nothing to do with this request. In fact, in my typical harried fashion, I had lost the sheet that instructed us parents to talk over with our children what country they'd like to explore. Lost the paper, forgot to talk about it.

But they each requested an African country, all on their own.

One daughter was then assigned Madagascar, the other, Kenya. I had a ball investigating these countries at length with them. As part of our internet research I found a fun site from I Like 2 Learn dot com with an interactive map quiz of the countries on the continent. Try it out--How many countries can you identify?

The House That Clinton Built

No, not either of those Clintons (i.e., neither the former US president nor the current presidential hopeful).

George Clinton.

It's Funky Friday here at SITBB during Deesha's and my 32 Day of Black History observance. Today I give you funk, the whole funk, and nothing but the funk. At the core of this playlist is legendary funk man, George Clinton, and his various bands, band members, and proteges. But also here are the many many artists whose work has been influenced by and/or were contemporaneous with George Clinton.

Please forgive me for starting the funk timeline with Clinton. I know that by all rights it should probably start with the Godfather of Soul (and Funk). But George Clinton was my entry point to funk, so begin there I will.

Enjoy--and Happy Friday!

...Ain't we funkin now? Uh-huh!

"Twice as much of love and everything..."

Celebration

by Mari Evans

I will bring you a whole person
and you will bring me a whole person
and we will have us twice as much
of love and everything

I be bringing a whole heart
and while it do have nicks and
dents and scars,
that only make me lay it down
more careful-like
And you be bringing a whole heart
a little chipped and rusty an'
sometime skip a beat but
still an' all you bringing polish too
and look like you intend
to make it shine

And we be bringing, each of us
the music of ourselves to wrap
the other in

Forgiving clarities
Soft as a choir's last
lingering note our
personal blend

I will be bringing you someone whole
and you will be bringing me someone whole
and we be twice as strong
and we be twice as true
and we will have twice as