News Flash:Some people are ignorant due to circumstances beyond their control.But most ignorant people actually choose to stay ignorant so as not to confuse themselves and their cherished beliefs by learning the truth.
This morning an online friend, who shares my curiosity about the human condition, in general, but especially about the behaviors surrounding politics and religion, sent me a link to an article in The Slatest Newsletter .The article discusses a clip from today’s Washington Post which reports that “The founder of one of the country's most prominent tea party organizations said in an interview Wednesday that he stands by an Internet column in which he urged the defeat of U.S. Rep. Keith Ellison, a Minnesota Democrat, because he is Muslim.”
Why does Judson Phillips, the founder of Nashville-based Tea Party Nation, feel that way?
"If you read the Qur'an, the Qur'an in no uncertain terms says some wonderful things like, 'Kill the infidels,' "says Phillips.”It says it on more than one occasion. I happen to be the infidel. I have a real problem with people who want to kill me just because I'm the infidel." That word “infidel” has been bugging me every time I hear it recently.What exactly does infidel mean anyway?I know what I think is meant when someone like Judson Phillips uses it in the context of his justification for making a ludicrous political statement.I know it is the root of a more familiar word (unfortunately for me) “infidelity.”But does it really mean what Phillips thinks he is saying?
As I do at least a dozen times every day, I typed words into the Google search engine.First I typed “infidel,” which yielded hundreds of thousands of results.I went to the Online Dictionary first, then to Wikipedia.Here’s some of what I learned:
1.Infidel is an English word, not an Arabic word.
2.Infidel was first used by Christians, not Muslims, to describe non-believers in Christianity; specifically, it was often used to describe Muslims.Later Muslims adopted its use to describe a certain category of non-Muslims.
Next I did a Google search on “kill the infidel passage in the Qur'an.”One of the topmost results was a site called SunniPath: the Online Islam Academywith an article titled Does the Qur'an teach to kill, tax or convert infidels? I will leave it up to the reader to decide whether to read that article in its entirety, but here are some interesting things I learned:
1. The Qur'an recognizes the natural diversity of humanity, "O mankind! We created you from a single (pair) of a male and a female, and made you into nations and tribes, that ye may know each other (not that ye may despise (each other). Verily the most honored of you in the sight of Allah is (he who is) the most righteous of you. And Allah has full knowledge and is well acquainted (with all things)." (Qur'an, 49:13) That certainly doesn’t sound much like a blanket condemnation of anyone who doesn’t follow the tenets of Islam. 2.The Qur'an talks about a group of non-Muslims called "Ahl al-Kitab," or People of Scripture. These are people who have received divine revelation, particularly Christians and Jews. Therefore, the Qur'an automatically recognizes previous Abrahamic faiths and accords special status to the adherents of Christianity and Judaism. What is ironic is that Christian and Jewish doctrine makes no provision for the recognition of Islam; however, Islam recognizes both Christianity and Judaism as divinely-revealed religions.
3. The most misunderstood passage of the Qur'an is one that is usually only partially quoted.It is the one that is used by extremist American conservatives to justify anti-Muslim propaganda.What the Qur'an really says is:
“ "And fight in the cause of Allah with those who fight with you, and do not exceed the limits, surely Allah does not love those who exceed the limits. And kill them wherever you find them, and drive them out from where they drove you out and persecution is severer than slaughter, and do not fight with them at the Sacred Mosque (in Makkah) until they fight with you in it, but if they do fight you, then slay them; such is the reward of the unbelievers. But if they desist, then surely Allah is Forgiving, Merciful. And fight with them until there is no persecution, and religion should be only for Allah, but if they desist, then there should be no hostility except against the oppressors." (Qur'an, 2:190-192)
If one takes the time to actually read the Qur'an passages instead of embracing the malevolent pronouncements of politicians with an agenda, it becomes clear that the message is far from “Kill all non-believers.”
Maybe it is too much to ask the average American to educate himself about things that are readily searchable.Maybe it is easier to just be led around by a nose-ring of calculated misrepresentation of the facts.Surely, there are Christians who make the same stupid mistakes with the Christian Bible; i.e., taking words and phrases out of context to support some misguided belief.
I do not think it is too much to ask.Every person who has children has a responsibility to educate those children.What a disservice it is to instruct our offspring with information that is unfounded or blatantly untrue, especially when the truth is just a few keystrokes away.
Little children dressed in costumes on Halloween are to me what candy is to them. I love it! Every year I get the chance to see how much my neighborhood kids have grown, and I've known most of them since their birth.
In anticipation of the big day, I began to wonder which characters to expect to haunt my new residence this time. So, I traipsed over to a web site that has a huge inventory of "store-bought" costumes for infants, children, teens and both their parents.
My not-s0-scientific research revealed that I am likely to be confronted with some characters I will not recognize at all. My continued deprivation of a grandchild ( are you listening, Stephen?) has kept me out of the pop-culture loop a lot more than I once thought.
Anyway, based only on the costumes that are currently Sold Out on the web site you can expect to encounter one or more of this guy.
Clone Wars Season 3 - ARF Trooper Child Costume
Phew! I'm sure glad I decided to do this post because I never even heard of Clone Wars. Opening the door to this "vision" might hasten my inevitable departure from this realm.
Believe it or not, this is a child's mask! I'm thinking I'd better throw a package of Depends in my shopping cart along with the mini-Snickers. The ole sphincter might not hold up if I open my door to a munchkin wearing one of these.
The Last Airbender - Blue Spirit
This monstrosity (okay, that was a cheap shot) is also sold out, at $20 a pop. But what the heck is an Airbender? A quick Google revealed another news-to-me television show called Avatar: The Last Airbender on Nickolodeon. Yikes! Whatever happend to that purple dino? He was so -- well -- normal looking.
While looking into blue things I ran across this costume for a little girl. Woo-hoo. This one I recognize, but only because it comes from a feature length film that I actually saw!
Neytiri Child Avatar Costume
I do hope at least one of these sweethearts shows up at my door.
Now, I hate to burst the celebratory ambiance of this post, but I do have a pet peeve about trick or treaters. I happen to think if you are a male child and your voice has changed or you shave your face, even periodically, your trick or treating days should be over. I'm probably taking my life in my hands when I do this, but I will say just that when one of these no-costume-wearing, pillow-case-toting teen girls and boys appears at my door. They usually look down at their feet shyly, kick the imaginary dirt and grin like idiots, though, and I see them for the children they still are.
The adults who are smarter than that and who wisely accompany their children on the beg-fest could be showing up at a door near you wearing one of these sold-out adult models:
I don't expect to see any of MY neighorhood moms in that Mischeivous Mad Hatter costume, though. It sold out when on sale for $188.88!
However, my neighbor across the street who owns several successful restaurants in our area throws a huge, drunken bash every year on Halloween. A lot of the costumes that appear that night are XXX-rated, so I'm sure one of his guests will show up in one or more of these, which are also sold out:
from Kick Ass, the Movie
from The Jersey Shore, the TV show
As luck would have it, I'm going to a Halloween Party myself this weekend and I need a costume. I've been considering this one, in honor of one of America's hottest pop stars:
Hair is nothing but trouble. It must be washed, combed, brushed, conditioned, grown out, cut back, thinned out, colored and kept out of one's eyes. We would be so much better off if we just didn't have hair, right?
Uh-uh. That couldn't be more wrong. Hair is a "woman's crowning glory." Longer and silkier hair is sought after, no matter if it has to be purchased in a cellophane bag and glued to her scalp. And that damned Barbie, she of the humanly impossible body and silky blonde hair down to her booty, is the one who actually started a lot of this mess.
With a few notable exceptions (Fonzi, Kookie, Kookie, Lend me Your Comb, hippies and rock stars) men seem to barely tolerate their hair -- until it starts falling out into their Wheaties every morning. Then it becomes a critical mass, the symbol of their virility, their youth and their ability to "get girls."
Something major happened in the world of hair recently. Sesame Street introduced a new Muppet. This so far nameless puppet is brown "skinned" and has a child-sized mop of dark, kinky hair.
No group of people on earth spend more time and money agonizing over, processing and attempting to tame their hair than African American women, and to a certain extent, African American men. Historically, it has been the source of great angst, sensitivity and sometimes even shame. If you don't believe me, waltz into any beauty supply retailer and take a look at the row after row of products and accessories designed specifically for the textured locks we of African descent tend to possess.
In a recent post, Color Me Redbone , I briefly mentioned how much I hated my hair as a child. My white mother's hair was naturally curly, jet black, long and luxurious. Mine? It was and is the "perfect" blend of my mother's soft, fine strands, and my African American father's thick, woolly mane. I inherited the worst characteristics of each side's contribution. No matter if I go to a black stylist or a white one, they all struggle with my hair, which doesn't respond well to "typical" handling.
Lately, the cultural secrets surrounding our hair have started to be outed to the general American public. Chris Rock's movie "Good Hair" was released last year.
This new little Muppet will do great things for our community. Apparently, it has already started because the YouTube video of the cotton character singing a little ditty about loving her hair has gone viral.
If you think I am making a mountain out of a molehill, I think you are mistaken. This puppet was developed because of the great love a man named Joey Mazzarino has for his Ethiopian-born adopted daughter. He and his wife noticed that when the little girl was first introduced to her Barbie dolls she began to complain about her own hair and to say negative things about herself.
As the fates would have it, Mazzarino is the head writer for Sesame Street. He decided he had to do something to address the serious disconnect between young African American girls and their perception of what it takes to be beautiful.
The irony of this story is not lost on me. It took a white man with the power to influence the powerful imagery that eminates from a major media vehicle on a daily basis to create and market a stuffed caricature that could neutralize at least one of the deleterious impacts made by Mattel's Major Money Maker Barbie.
Will it work? That will depend a lot upon how enlightened the mainstream business community become. You see, there is yet another double standard at play in the workplace that seriously affects how black women regard their hair. If you watched the "Good Hair" clip above you saw actor Paul Mooney imply -- okay, it was in your face -- that many white people are more comfortable around blacks whose hair is straight, no matter HOW it got that way. Case in point:
Just before I retired from AT&T in 2000, I went on a boondoggle to Jamaica with a colleague. (I'll bet those days are gone forever!) While she called herself *working* with the community leader she was schmoozing, I went down to the beach and had my hair braided and anchored with colorful beads. I spent a lot of time in the surf and had grown tired of torturing my relaxed hair into shape after every outing.
When I returned to Atlanta I decided to leave the braids in place for a while because I had become quite content with both the look and the freedom. Besides, I had begun to think seriously about retiring so I didn't much care about the so-called repercussions; i.e., questioning of my professionalism. I wanted to see what would happen if I "kept it real."
"Wow, Lezlie. I didn't even recognize you. Welcome back. Making another one of your fashion statements, are you?" This from my boss's boss, a red-headed good ole boy who talked incessantly about how liberal and open-minded he was. Yeah, right.
Next day: "Well, I see you are still letting your hair do your talking for ya'." I duly noted his meaning.
Day three: " How long are you planning to keep your hair like that?" Subtle, huh?
There are so many fronts on which a minority employee has to fight in the workplace, it becomes necessary, for one's personal sanity, to select her battles. The braids came out.
Now that the mighty Sesame Street has taken on this sensitive subject, maybe we are on the road to self-acceptance.
And maybe, just maybe, I'll be able to get caught in the rain without freaking out because of the instant frizziness that will happen on top of my head. Hell, maybe I'll even stop blowing it within an inch of its life to straighten it out...and then turn around and curl it "acceptably" with a hot curling iron. Maybe I will be able to take the last step of freeing myself from the self-loathing that caused me to lie at times about the way my hair really is. Maybe I will.
Comments:
sigh, I love black hairstyles. I always wanted bantu knots, but didn't want to look like a poser. Braids are my favorites on other people- the tiny ones that are mostly fake and go on for miles- I know they a pain to have put in, but god they look gorgeous.
hyblaean- Julie
How much would it take for our American society to give up trying to rubber stamp people? We may never know. This could take decades.
Wonderful work.
Rated Halloween Maven
Sorry, didn't mean to ignore the racism part of this post. It reminds me of the video where the black girl picks the white doll as "better." You know there is a problem with how we are teaching African American kids when that happens. The amount of racism that gets pulled in when you live in that kind of toxic environment is damaging in ways we will never understand or be able to compensate for.
hyblaean- Julie
My hair and I have come to an uneasy truce. I leave it alone and it stays on top of my head.....for now....somewhat...
Torman
I watched "Good Hair" and was astonished to see the extraordinary and expensive measures African-American women went to in order to look like they don't have African-American hair. What a pity. Natural hair is good hair in my book.
And something that stuck with me from that film, all the women saying "don't touch my hair!" Good grief, one of the most sensual things a man can do for a woman is to brush her hair... my former sweetie loved it. And running my fingers through a woman's hair is sexy for me.
One of my neighbors is a tall, beautiful African-American woman with natural hair. I was looking at her this morning, before reading this piece, and thinking how stunning she looks.
Natural is da bomb.
David Kinne
It's funny, everytime I look at your picture, I think to myself, I wish I could do that pixie look and get away with it. I love your do. I had no idea you straighteded it which I am sure is time consuming. Retired you should go with what you are comfortable with..I like going without makeup, but I look faint and overly white..sickish..so I am trying to find makeup that looks natural but gives me at least "skin-tone" color instead of 'paper' color..ha..guess we all have stuff we'd like to change..any make-up makes me look like I have too much on. Whatcha gonna do? lol.
cindy Prochnow
hyblaean=Julie: You are not the first white person to tell me they like black hairstyles. And yet, our little girls continue to feel less than... That is because I think there are a lot of men who, if they are honest, prefer straight long hair.
HM aka PW: Decades indeed. I feel as if I'm running out of time, but I'll work on it until the end.
Torman: But it still has the last word, doesn't it? lol
L in the Southeast
Cindy: As soon as I announced I was retiring I never touched another bottle of hair color. That was my gift to myself and the beginning of my quest to find and stand in my authenticity.
L in the Southeast
I have long-ish, poofy blond white person hair, and it sheds incessently around the house, which drives my husband batty. I always joke that he just needs to say the word and I'll shave it all off. Life would certainly be easier. Rated.
Caroline K
Great post lezlie.. I saw the video this morning and just loved it. While I envy some of my friends hairstyles.. I do not envy the weekly cost and maintenance.
I still cannot believe that boss of yours..
blah
Rated with hugs
Linda Seccaspina
I feel the same way about what I've got going on downstairs..... maybe this could help make men accept that this is what we really look like.
O'Really?
Recently, I've been thinking about braiding and beading my hair.
{[R]}
Leepin Larry
I always liked an Afro on a Black Woman. To me it's sexy. But, I can see where the Barbie effect would kick in with kids, and adults for that matter. I have curly hair but always wanted straight hair. Terri has always had long beautiful straight hair, but wanted curly hair. I think we all want what we can't have sometime.
scanner
Well crap, I've wasted so much of my life not even caring about that stuff. I read about the cultural implications of this or that and me? I never gave it a thought. Do I know that there are different characteristics between races? Well of course, I am not blind. They just never seemed to matter to me much, I look like I do because I am what I am. You are the same.
I will admit I never quite understood the "process" business. Sure I can dig the desire to look different but really is it that terrible to look like you? I don't think so.
bobbot
I love my hair all three of them r. :)
Jonathan Wolfman
As I finished reading I thought of Whoopi Goldberg's one woman show that included a little girl who struts on stage wearing a long sleeved yellow shirt. She says something like, "Hi...this is my long luxurious blond hair..." I believe the new Sesame Street character can help in a major way because she's educating children.
heidibeth
Caroline: I was thinking that very thing this morning. I need a haircut, I don't want to spend the money and it is thinning out pretty rapidly these days. Ugh!
Linda: I don't do much to mine except get it cut, but you would be shocked at what the average black woman spends. My hairdresser says that *most* of her clients spend between $100-$200 per visit. I was bitching about my $70 haircut.
O'Really: Umm, what's going on downstairs??????
Larry: I think that would look smashing on you!
Scanner: Sexy, huh? I'm a little surprised by you and David saying that. I'm glad I did this piece. lol L in the Southeast
I was obsessed with hair from an early age...about the time I figured out my mom made me look ridiculous. It is only the past couple of years I felt relaxed enough to let my hairdresser do whatever he wants and I trust it will look good. It's such a relief not to spend all that time (wasted) coloring and blow drying it straight. Now I let him color and we keep it short so no fuss.
In Beauty School I remember getting to do hair on a black woman who wanted it straightened. A nightmare to this novice...let it be is what is happening now.
Great post.
BuffyW
Buffy: In a weird sort of way I find it comforting to read that you were also obsessed. I am very glad to hear that you are also letting it go. :-) L in the Southeast
When my daughter was in preschool, there was a lovely African American little girl in her class, with a typical little girl style--her mom had done her hair in a million little braids with beads.
My daughter's hair (we're both white) is thin, straight, spider-web fine, and mouse-brown.
She LOVED Taylor's hair. Loved it. She wanted a million little braids just like Taylor. I tried. Taylor's mom thought it was hilarious--she'd been so worried Taylor wouldn't like herself because her hair was different (it was a mostly white preschool). It was so wonderful to see the tables turned, and have my (white) daughter envy black curly hair.
I tried to do the braids, it didn't work, and we had a long talk about how everyone wants what they don't have, and the best thing she could do was figure out what her hair does well and do that.
Good for you, Lezlie, in letting your gray show. Good luck in finding a style you can live with that doesn't take over your life.
froggy
I am going to tippy-toe in here with a comment because I so enjoyed your take on this subject, L. I say “tippy-toe” because caution is in order lest one be misunderstood. I already appreciated the immensity of the cultural significance of this and the significance in our society as a whole, but it is a significance that I personally do not pretend to grasp totally. This is why I read your piece with so much interest.
My last lady friend up north was an African-American woman. All woman. We were an item for a little over a year until just before I actually did leave for Mexico, a decision that she did not accept, to put it mildly. It just so happens that she was—and is—a hairdresser. She would work hours over a single head putting in braids so tight that the little gals could not close their eyes. She also did dreadlocks and therefore worked on men's heads occasionally. “Heads” was her term. She suffered horribly from carpal tunnel syndrome in her hands, an occupational hazard. She also worked with those incredible chemicals.
I did not touch her hair.
I often lounged around the men's barbershop out front while waiting for her to finish a head at her chair in the back so that I could give her a lift. Here is something that I do know—that I am absolutely convinced of—in connection with this whole complex subject. Black men will more easily and more readily become comfortable with a white man who has hair down to his shoulders than with a white man whose hair is normally short. I do not pretend to know why, but it is certainly so. I enjoyed some of the most entertaining conversations of my life in that barbershop.
Chris Rock is a genius, which is only reconfirmed by his decision to take on this subject.
Brassawe
I love the look of corn rows. Remember the movie "10"? I wish I had my dad's red hair. By the way, who's that in your avatar photo?
Sarah Cavanaugh
froggy: That's such a cute story. Little children should be our roadmaps to change. They only know what they see and when they see something they like, they want it too. We adults are the ones who ply them with all these notions about what is good and what is not, what is appropriate and what is not when it comes to one's self. Thanks so much for sharing this with my readers.
L in the Southeast
I think it is sad that people obsess so much about their hair. Personally, I love the natural look on everybody. I hate to think how tough the chemicals are when we try to make our hair what it isn't. I have always had very thick, mostly curly hair. I tried for years to blow dry it straight and it never looked good to me. Now, I just wash it and put some conditioner in and go-peaceful and most days I don't hate it! I personally love the corn rows and braids and do not see why it would be a problem in the workplace! R
Libmomrn
Brassawe: You are such a fascinating man. Lucky for my white ex-husband (and for me, 'cuz I like having my head rubbed), I hardly ever prevented him from touching my hair. He never would have complied anyway. lol
I suspect your observation about black men accepting white men with longer hair is a result of learning to take visual cues to determine a person's point of view on things. Longer hair represents someone who does not bend to convention and is, therefore a lot more open-minded than the average guy who regularly gets his ears lowered.
L in the Southeast
I admitted long ago that had I could never have put myself through all of the hell and expense that my AA friends did v/v their hair. I would have gone with the 1/2 inch buzz, giant gold hoop ear rings and the Nubian princess look. Gorgeous in any season. This white girl finally learned to accept her own board-straight locks after about 40 years. I don't even try to get it to do anything it won't do pretty much on its own style-wize, but I am living, walking proof that blondes CAN have more fun, if they really, really, really want to.
Memeishere
Great post. I can't think of the right comments for it. But well done.
kateasley
libmomrn: I remember when the curly perms were all the rage for white girls. I used to shake my head and laugh. They want curly and lie in the sun to get darker skin; we want straight hair and envy those among us who have lighter skin. Go figure.
memeishere: I, too, love that close-cropped look with giant hoops. I'm thinking about it. :-)
L in the Southeast
October 19, 2010 04:24 PMSo much is read into hair, usually foolishly. Back in my hippie days, we didn't trust anybody whose hair was short. Even now, I sometimes wear it a little longer than I should, as if I was exhibiting some lame form of nonconformity. Maybe I should just shave it all off and be done with it - it's going to fall out anyway.
Cranky Cuss
Cranky: I think you should go ahead and shave it off. I love that look! Of course, the fact that my son the movie star shaves his head has nothing at all to do with it. :-)
L in the Southeast
PMThis is a great post. I support anything that makes people appreciate and accept their body and the hair on top of it. That it has to do with "Sesame Street," is a bonus. R.
Alysa Salzberg
Great post Lezlie. Good for Sesame Street!
trilogy
Love it! The first time I heard this song my grandson was singing it and trying to breakdance. Imagine.
Fay Paxton
Alysa: Thanks!
Trilogy: Thanks for reading.
Fay: Trying to breakdance? Priceless!
L in the Southeast
Gimme a head of hair, long beautiful hair...I want long, straight, curly, fuzzy, snaggy, shaggy, ratty, matty
My husband told me about this new character last night and I was over the moon. This is exactly what little black girls need to help them learn to appreciate their natural hair as it is. My hair was chemically relaxed for more than 15 years. Once I discovered kinky twists and locs I never looked back. My daughter's hair is locked as well, but there are very few black kids in her school and I sense that she still envies the long, flowy tresses of her classmates, just as I did at her age. This standard of beauty thing, especially hair, is a tough one that takes years to resolve. I hope this character helps the next generation.
bluestocking babe
Everyone has to be comfortable with themselves. I get a cut from a cheap place once every couple of months. I just want it cleaned up. I don't set, spray or play with it. I just don't care mostly. It looks okay mostly, and my husband always tells me it looks good. I think that explains my perception of myself. He loves me so to him it looks good. Ha. I admire people who are who they are. Authentic, whatever that means to them. I got this way in the last several years. Don't know exactly when. Once in a while I color it to make the silver gray match the patches of brownish blonde. I like the look, it makes me feel special. That happens with so much time in between, I usually forget what color or brand of hair dye I actually bought the last time or they change the packaging. Seriously. I am happy you are happy with you.
SheilaTGTG55
Your boss's boss was a red headed asshat! Nothing is lovelier than a gorgeous soft natural hairstyle on a sister. But also I am in perpetual awe at the creativity of some of the hair do creations I see when I join the ladies at the salon...Pure art.
Linnnn
When in a support group back in the seventies (remember those?), we were asked to write a biography of our hair. What tales were told and none were spared the agony of everything you describe. I always thought it was such an interesting notion that we all had our hair issues no matter what. Very interesting piece. r
Rosycheeks
I had a girlfriend and she had this enormous coif and I asked her, "What did you do to your hair?"
She replied, "No, look what my hair has done to me."
Black Jack Davy
Cartouche reminded me of something I haven't thought of in a long time, and that I'll bet a lot of women never think of either, at the time. When i was younger I was once cruised by a femme fatale, today we'd call her a cougar, with big hair, blazing red. I wasn't in a relationship, and I said "what the hell?" When we started getting down to business, the first thing I noticed was the hormone replacement patch. Then the significant geological displacement that occurred when the upper support work was removed. Then finally the distinct mismatch between the carpet and the drapes. Still, grey and red harmonize well, and we had a pleasant interlude together, but still... it was a bit of an unexpected surprise.
David Kinne
bb: What I found (and still find) so compelling about other types of hair is the relative ease of styling for so many. And shine. Shine on our hair is so hard to come by, and is most often acheived through a product that is greasy, which I hate. But I also envy some black woman whose hair is very coarse and therefore retains its style under the most inclement weather circumstances.
Sheila: I'd love to take a page out of your I-don't-care book.
Linnnn: Asshat is much too nice a description...
Rosycheeks: That must have been an interesting class. It's true that everyone seems to dislike what they have when it comes to hair.
BJD: She's right, you know.
L in the Southeast
I just got home from work and one of the first things out of my daughter's mouth was the mention of the Sesame Street video. I think it is great. Excellent post Lezlie.
The Wright Sight
LMAO! Dave, you encountered a real cougar. And the euphemisms! Priceless.
L in the Southeast
Wright: Oh, that does my heart good. I think that scene is being repeated in households all over the country. Joey did a very good thing.
The first thing I spotted when I looked up from my reading was a vial being approached by a very large hypodermic needle. The label on the vial read BotulinumToxin Type A. My local TV station was reporting that the FDA had approved cosmetic grade Botox for the treatment of migraines.
I've got to be honest here. I still haven't gotten used to the idea that our ageist Baby Boomers are so stressed out about getting older that we are willing to have anything with the word 'toxin' in its title injected into our freakin' faces.
Now they're talking about injecting this organism, this potential cause of Botulism, a rare but serious illness, directly into our heads or necks, for Pete's sake. To this day, if I see a can of food on a grocery store shelf that is the least bit dented, a specter of my late grandmother appears over my left shoulder whispering "botulism, botulism, botulism." Do I really want this substance, no matter how small the amount, to be jetting around in my system looking for buddies to team up with?
True to form, I launched into a full out Google offensive. I wanted to know what the odds are for getting botulism from Botox. I wanted to see exactly how much responsibility Allergan, the company that manufactures the lucrative vanity elixir, has actually taken on. And I wanted to learn just how much of a risk migraine sufferers might be willing to take in terms of side-effects from the injections.
I wasn't about to use the hype I found on Allergan's web site for a credible reference, so I went to a site called Drugs.com and found the following:
Botox Cosmetic
All medicines may cause side effects, but many people have no, or minor, side effects. Check with your doctor if any of these most COMMON side effects persist or become bothersome when using Botox Cosmetic: Anxiety; back pain; dizziness; drowsiness; dry mouth; dry or irritated eyes; facial pain; flu-like symptoms; headache; inability to focus eyes; increased cough; indigestion; nausea; neck pain; pain, redness, swelling, or tenderness at the injection site; runny nose; sensitivity to light; stiff or weak muscles at or near the injection site; sweating.
Seek medical attention right away if any of these SEVERE side effects occur when using Botox Cosmetic: Severe allergic reactions (rash; hives; itching; difficulty breathing; tightness in the chest; swelling of the mouth, face, lips, or tongue; unusual hoarseness); bleeding at the injection site; chest pain; difficulty swallowing or breathing; double or blurred vision, or other vision changes; drooping of the upper eyelid; eyelid swelling; fainting; fever, chills, or persistent sore throat; irregular heartbeat; loss of bladder control; loss of strength; paralysis; seizures; severe or persistent muscle weakness or dizziness; shortness of breath; speech changes or problems.
You might have missed the fact that I underlined the word 'headache.' Huh? So let me get this straight -- one of the more common side effects of an injection of Botox INTO MY HEAD to lessen the symptoms of a MIGRAINE HEADACHE is a HEADACHE? Oooookaaaay.
But, never mind that. It's such a long shot (except for me, who gets a headache from virtually every new drug introduced to my system), it might be worth risking, say, droopy eyelids, fainting and loss of bladder control to get some relief, right?
Well, according to a MoneyTimes.com article about this announcement, the best available study showed that a person who suffers more than 14 days a month of migraine pain only reduces his or her suffering by two days, at the most. The remedy isn't effective at all for people who suffer less than 14 days per month.
Now it's easy for me to say all of this; I don't have migraines. I have been around people who do have them, though, and I know from experience that some people would gladly blow their brains out during one of their sieges rather than suffer another minute. So maybe the slight possibility of two days more a month without pain IS worth risking wet pants or a permanent wink to them.
But a shot in the neck? A shot in the head? I'm just sayin'...
When I landed a job in Public Relations at the renowned University of Chicago in 1972, no one could have convinced me I wasn't the luckiest young single mother in Chicagoland.
Instead of driving 60 miles a day commuting between Downer's Grove, a western suburb of Chicago, and the Southside campus in the Hyde Park neighborhood, I took advantage of my eligibility to lease a two-bedroom flat in one of the University-owned apartment buildings just a few short blocks from my new office on the University's quadrangle.
Life was looking up. The sting of my divorce was fading, the new job offered an increase in salary significant enough to allow me to replace my utilitarian car with something a lot sexier, and I had even met a six-feet six-inch insurance salesman who enjoyed wining and dining me. His name was Richard. He was kind of strange, but what the heck. He would do for a while.
One day I was preparing to interview one of the U of C's most famous professors, economist Milton Friedman. The youngest PR specialist on the staff at 28, I was pretty nervous about meeting Friedman, and I was getting tips from the others, who had been around a lot longer. I only had two days more to bone up. Richard had called that morning to arrange a lunch date.
About five minutes before Richard was due to pick me up for lunch I went into the ladies room to spruce up a bit. For once it was located just outside the suite of offices we occupied.
As I turned to flush the toilet with my foot, I glanced up when I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. There was nothing there. Then I glanced down. Under the wall to the stall to the immediate right of me was a pair of very large black wing-tip shoes.
I had noticed the door was shut when I entered the restroom, but when I looked at the floor behind it before I entered my stall, there was no one there. Or so I thought. I figured it was out of order and, therefore, locked from the inside.
Nearly paralyzed with fear, it took a few seconds for my training to kick in. Leaning against the door with my back to secure it even more than the lock did, I let out a blood-curdling scream that Jamie Lee Curtis would have envied. The wearer of the wing-tips, who had been standing on the toilet seat and peering down at me as I used the toilet, could be heard running from the rest room and down the hall toward the stairs.
Shaking and crying hysterically, I was terrified to leave the stall. My co-workers heard the screams and came running in, but I was so shaken I couldn't maneuver the lock on the door. Still not sure what had happened to me, one of the women crawled under the door and led me out into the office.
In the meantime, Richard had been walking up to the building to keep our lunch date at the exact moment that I screamed. He heard it and claimed to have recognized it as mine. Seconds later, the pervert went running out the door and down the frontstairs in Richard's direction.
Remember I said Richard is 6'6" tall? Well, he grabbed the pervert and beat the living hell out of him. The police arrived just in time to save the guy from being beaten unconscious.
I wish I could say the story ended there.
After I composed myself, the police asked me to go with them to the local precinct to give them my statement. Richard insisted on going with me.
"I'm Officer Smith. Why don't you tell me exactly what happened today?"
I told him pretty much what I've written here.
"What were you doing in the stall?"
"Excuse me?" What was he asking me?
"What were you doing?"
Richard cleared his throat. "What the hell do you think she was doing, man? What kind of question is that?!"
Officer Smith ignored him.
"Did you remove any clothing?"
Richard stood up. I started sobbing all over again. Is he actually trying to imply that I somehow caused this to happen?
"Sir, if you don't keep quiet we're going to have to ask you to wait outside."
That pissed me off. The tears abruptly stopped. I sat up straighter and leaned toward the cop.
"I went into the bathroom to take a piss, Officer. Since I am a woman, it was necessary for me to pull down my panties before I sat on the toilet. When I finished peeing, I had to take some tissue off the roll and wipe myself dry, which caused me to hike up my skirt. After that I pulled my panties back up, reached under my skirt and pulled down my blouse. Then I pulled down my skirt. How's that?!?" I hissed.
A few days later I was summoned to court for the pervert's arraignment or some sort of hearing. This was the first time I had seen anything other than the man's shoes. He sat and glared at me as I was sworn in.
"Please state your name and address for the record."
"Your honor, with all due respect, I am not comfortable saying that in front of the defendant. He could come looking for me."
"Alright then, just state your name, please." Duh
I found out later from a friend in the Police Department that the guy had a record of sexual assault and other incidences of whatever they called standing on toilet bowls and peering down on unsuspecting women. He was sentenced to some jail time, but was out within weeks to prey on his next victim. And there was one.
I was not physically touched by this freak, but I felt violated in a way that kept me awake at night for weeks afterward. And Chicago's Finest, in my opinion, were every bit as guilty as the pervert was.
Let me see a show of hands. If you are a Caucasian living anywhere in North America, how many of you have ever been told you are not white enough? Yes, white – as in the shade of your skin. Nobody? Anybody? How about “you are too white?” If you have, it was probably said in connection with a suntan or lack thereof.
Perhaps you thought Barack Obama is the first American of African descent who has been questioned about his relative blackness...or whiteness, for that matter. Think again.
While members of the U. S. Tea Party are running around stirring up bogus concerns about the whereabouts of one Stanley Ann Dunham Obama at the moment she gave birth to our 44th president; and while American liberals and progressives continue to wring their collective hands while struggling to find a way to combat the blatant attempts by conservatives to scatter racially-tinged accusations around like so many IEDs (improvised explosive devices), there is another, strictly intramural battle going on within our black communities.
Colorism is a little-discussed phenomenon that every person who identifies as African American – make that African Anything—understands and wishes s/he didn’t. Colorism is one of the dubious “gifts” that slavery in the Americas – make that in the western world -- keeps on giving.
Colorism describes a concept to which the Reverend Joseph Lowery made a not-so-veiled reference at Obama’s inauguration when he said:
"Lord, we ask you to help us work for that day when black will not be asked to get in back, when brown can stick around, when yellow will be mellow, when the red man can get ahead, man; and when white will embrace what is right. Let all those who do justice and love mercy say amen.”
I remember with clarity hearing my stepfather recite the real verse: If you’re white, you’re alright. If you’re brown, stick around. If you’re black, get back. And every other black kid growing up in the 1950s heard it, too. Thus was the established and sadly shameful pecking order within black communities. Director Spike Lee discussed colorism loudly in his movies “Jungle Fever” and School Daze.”
Colorism is the basic premise that a black person’s probability of success in life is a direct function of how close to white his or her skin is.
Now I know you will all want to tell me about the very dark-skinned people you know or know about who have become all manner of successful. And others of you will want to scream at me for “bringing up” a subject that is close to taboo in the black community; nobody expects me, a black woman with light skin, to bring it up in “mixed company.” It’s like one of those family secrets I’ve written about – what happens in the family is supposed to stay in the family.
It should not be difficult for any reader to understand how this unfortunate “ism” came about. Slave women were frequently raped by their white masters or their masters’ friends. Many, many children resulted from those attacks.
As is human nature, some of those white fathers took a liking to their bastard progeny and treated them better (relatively) than they did the children of two slaves. Over time, these mulatto offspring were allowed to take jobs inside the Big House. They became known as house n****rs.
Human nature was also at work in the slave quarters. If you were required to work from dawn until sunset in the blazing sun; if you were beaten within an inch of your life for allowing your eyeballs to wander in the wrong direction; if you were required to eat barely enough to keep you alive day after day; you just might develop a little resentment toward those accidents of birth that enjoyed (again, relative) a better existence.
Guess what? Not too much has changed. Slavery is long gone, but the racial self-hatred that has plagued the descendants of those slaves is alive and kicking. It’s kicking our asses.
In the 1940s, Kenneth and Mamie Clark, married psychologists, conducted a study with black children who were asked to choose, among other things, which doll was most like the child, which was nicer, which was smarter, which was prettier, etc. The majority of those children correctly identified the “colored” doll as being most like him/herself. The majority also identified the white doll as being nicer, smarter and prettier than the black doll. When asked why they chose that doll, most answered “because it's white.”
But that was then. This is now, you say?
Kiri Davis, an 18-year-old student filmmaker in 2005, recreated that Clark experiment with 21 African American children at a daycare center in New York. The result? Identical. As in the original test, Kiri found that most of the black children preferred the white dolls and identified the black dolls as "bad." ( Photo from Oprah.com)
Photo from Oprah.com
Colorism is also at work today when the probability for a black woman in America ever marrying in her lifetime is directly related to how close to white she looks. Why? Because there is such a shortage of available black men due to premature death and incarceration that those who are looking for wives tend to gravitate toward what could be thought of as the trophy wife; i.e., black women with lighter skin, sharper noses and longer, straighter hair.
Have I personally witnessed and/or felt colorism at work? Oh, yeah. Every day of my freakin’ life.
I hated my textured hair. I used to ask my mother over and over why she had “good hair,” meaning straight, and mine was “nappy.” It drove her crazy enough to have my hair chemically straightened when that service was still in experimental stages. Except for a period in the 70s when I felt the need to make my Black Power statement and wear an afro, my hair is always straightened
I was despised by the African American girls in my hometown and sought after by the African American boys. That came in handy in high school when the girls kept promising to kick my “yella ass” in the park after school. I would just assemble “my boys” to walk me home, and all was well.
I developed a preference for darker-skinned boys, probably as much to irritate my family members as anything else. Once in college, I accepted a date with a guy who was the color of Taye Diggs, but “uglier than homemade sin” according to my mother. I thought he was the nicest boy I’d ever dated.
Once I walked into a high school basketball game with my little posse of friends. Out of the stands came a shout: “Hey, Lezlie. Come over here a minute.” It was a group of those who wished to rearrange my butt. Afraid of being thought afraid (hah!) I went. The head bully said “Let me see your wrist. No, turn it over.” I did. “See,” she said to anyone in listening range, “I told you she was a half-white bitch.” She could see my blue veins through the pale skin on the underside of my wrist.
To this day, one of my favorite neighbors, who grew up on a farm in North Carolina and who is a natural beauty that turns heads with her fabulous bone structure and flawless figure, enjoys putting her chocolaty arm next to my suntanned (!) legs, and laughing. “God, your legs are pale, Lezlie!” If I didn’t love her so much, I’d probably slug her. · My son, Stephen, went to a predominately white high school in northern California. There was a girl in his class whose mother was black and her father white. Given my background, and the fact that my second husband, his adoptive father, is white, Steve felt a kinship to her and asked her on a date. She declined, saying she didn’t want to marry a black man because she didn’t want to have black children!
Interestingly enough, even African nationals are not immune to colorism. When I had a big house I had a cleaning crew. The Nigerian crew leader often mentioned how beautiful she thinks my skin is. One day I asked why she remarks about it so often. “The color,” she answered. I have read reports that colorism exists in India, Japan and other Asian countries. I had a Filipina secretary in California who bragged endlessly about her lighter-than-usual color. Again it is attributable to those countries’ colonization by European countries.
Will Americans of African descent ever truly “get over” the effects of slavery? There was a time I thought we would. It seems to me if we are ever going to see anything even resembling an end to white racism, we are going to have to deal with our own self-loathing.
* A redbone is a light-skinned black person who is usually mixed with another race
This is a complicated and far-reaching issue with too many facets to discuss in one post. For more information regarding the studies supporting my assertions, please follow the links below.
Saturday was a Chamber of Commerce autumn day in Atlanta. Coqui took me for two long walks through neighborhood so she could visit some of her favorite neighbors.
This play bow can only mean one thing: her feline crush on Waddell Street is in his front yard, and now, so is Coqui.
My friend Krista's cat finds Coqui's distance acceptable, so he doesn't dash under the nearest car.
Over on Spruce Street a new black cat sits minding her own business; Coqui is minding the cat's business, too.
Looks like this could be the start of another beautiful friendship. (Lezlie's finger in front of the lens is an inadvertent "creative" touch.)
Woo-hoo. This one I recognize, but only because it comes from a feature length film that I actually saw!
