Myrt is gone.

Six years ago today, I was awakened at 5:30 in the morning by my mother.

"Wake up baby. Myrt is gone."

To this day, the words seem foreign and wrong. They sound impossible and incorrect. Akin to, "Jesus does not love you," or "you are a white American."

No.

Myrt is my grandmother. She IS my grandmother. And she is gone.

I know, I know. Better place. Up with God. Listening to angels sing. No more pain. Happy. Content. Peaceful.

But gone.

No more silent-throw-your-head-back-and-laugh-and-when-everyone-is-finished-your-head-is-still-thrown-back-coming-down-off-your-silent-high.

No more "what-did-you-say-Shannon"-knowing-that-Shannon-really-shouldn't-have-said-whatever-it-is-that-she-said.

No more talking-about-transvestites-on-Jerry-Springer-even-though-she-could-barely-pronounce-the-words-after-the-third-and-last-stroke-left-her-as-an-invalid-for-the-last-seven-years-of-her-life.

No more reminding-mama-that-Purdue-roasters-were-on-sale-at-Jewel's.

No more Cleo-wig.

No more everything-that-her-grandbabies-do-is-funny-and-not-to-be-punished-with-whoopins.

And I didn't know how much it could hurt. I didn't know that when I ignored her lying in that bed because I was scared to see my grandma like that. I didn't know that when I pouted about having to help mama change her diapers because I didn't want to see my grandma like that. I didn't know that when I didn't want to go over to her house before church because I didn't want to see my grandma like that. I didn't know that when I always believed that she would get up and walk again and that all I had to do was wait it out and I'd never have to see my grandma like that.

She'd been there since my birth...

I thought she'd be there until the end.

And I knew that was an impossibility, but I didn't want to see my grandma like that; mortal.

She was not mortal to me. She was a Goddess with pinchable cheeks, and endearing toothless grin, and love that knew no bounds.

But gone.

And six years later, I still cry and miss her and am scared to mention her to anyone because I think that I will not make it through the conversation. Six years later I'm still missing the unflinching support and love that she offered so willingly. Six years later I just want to see her face and hear her silent laugh. Six years later, I listen to "Grandma's Hands" and I still see her hands. Six years later, I want Myrt.

And I know that, if she were here, she'd want me. She'd call me in her room and tell me something that I could barely understand, but understood better than anybody else. She would've come to my high school and college graduation in her signature wig and I would've taken pictures with her and she would've been so proud of me. I know it.

But Myrt is gone. She's been gone for six years, and I still don't feel any better.

Greetings from the worst blogger in history.

I know, everytime I come back, I make the same apologies and promises. So, shall I stop? I think I shall. I'll only say that I will honestly try and be a better blogger in the future.

So, what's new, you ask. Well, technically, there's nothing new under the sun (or at least that's what my mama told me), but there have been interesting events since they last time I've stopped by.

1. Deidre McCalla- a lesbian, feminist, mother, musician, African-American stopped by lil ole Springfield. She definitely had some interesting things to say about the world. But then again, when you're living in a world so interesting, isn't anything you say about it interesting? (Perhaps the student of the world's most boring current affairs professor can answer that.) It's always nice to see the University trying to show respect for others by bringing all sorts of people to campus. And even if I don't agree with everything she said (which is not rare), I definitely do appreciate that she was here to say it.

2. Spring Break- ode to a broke 1st-year graduate student. Alas, I simply headed home to Chicago for my Spring Break. Nothing waaaaaay out of the ordinary, but it is always nice to go home to a city with deep-dish pizza, quality Chinese food, and public buses that run past 6 p.m.

3. My friend, whom I shall call "Nikki V." got a new couch! (She lives off-campus. She's a real big girl.) It has two sections, is very spacey, and is made of the most beautiful and rich crimson fabric I've ever seen! I so did enjoy laying lazily upon it while watching the worst movie ever made. (Note to Master P: You must cease all theatrical activities at once!)

4. I spoke at a press conference. A+ Illinois, an organization that advocates school funding reform, asked me to speak at their press conference for their new campaign called, "Vote for an A+ Illinois: Don’t Fail Us Now." (Well, actually my friend Liz who works for them asked me to speak, if you wanna get all technical about it.) As a proud product of the Chicago Public School system, it was only my joy to say, "hey, remember when Whitney said, 'I believe the children are our future, teach them well and let them lead the way?' Well, she wasn't lying."
(http://www.aplusillinois.org/index.asp)

5. The Guerrilla Girls presentation on campus. Ok, so you got me. That's actually not happening until TOMORROW, but aren't you glad that I'm reminding you. Come on out and join them. Hey, your tuition dollars are paying for it!

Well, that's all for now folks. See ya soon! Hopefully...

The weeks in review................

So, I know that I promised to be more vigilant about updating my blogs, but you know how those New Year's Eve resolutions can go. (Right down the toilet.) But I'm back with you now, and that's all that matters, right? (Don't look at me like that)

So, I have several things I can catch you guys up on.

1. Snow. Isn't it funny, that as children, we LOVE the snow. Just can't get enough of it. Jumping in it, falling in it, sticking our tongues in it (hey, you know you did that!), etc, etc, etc. Well, not so much anymore. If the snow doesn't yield a snowday, I have absolutely no use for it. And we got a lot of it last week. Well, Springfield got a lot. I was extremely blessed in that I happened to be in Chicago when the windfall came. I only have a Tuesday & Wednesday night class, so after I heard that classes were cancelled on Tuesday night, I stayed in Chicago. Then I heard that classes were cancelled on Wednesday night, so that meant I didn't have to be back in Springfield until this Tuesday (tomorrow)! Yay! So, I basically parlayed what was supposed to be a long weekend into an extra Spring Break. Whoo-hoo!

And let me tell ya, that's a good thing. I love UIS and everything, but these people have NO CLUE as to how to handle snow. It really dumbfounds me as to why snow confounds them all the time. They have this policy about not using salt (instead they use sand, which does absolutely nothing except make your apartment floors a filthy mess) so you pretty much slip and slide your way across campus until it gets warm enough for the snow and ice to melt. I have to tell ya, that peeves me to no end. Can we shovel some ice here! I mean, there are people who get around the campus with wheelchairs, for heaven's sake! If not for my convenience, at least do it for their safety.


2. The untimely demise of Chief Illiniwek. Yes, I know he belongs to UIUC, and not UIS, but I thought I'd comment anyway. The reason why his demise is untimely is because he should've got axed YEARS ago. The fact is, the Chief is a racist symbol. Ever heard of Blackface? That's when white performers would put coal on their faces and pretend to be Black but supposedly mimicking Black people. Well, the Chief is what I call "redface." A white person (or in a couple of cases, a Latino or Fillipino person...still not a Native American) pretending to be Native American by painting their face and hopping around. It's not a genuine representation of the Illiniwek (who, by the way, were forced off of their land and made to move onto reservations in Oklahoma by the white settlers...but, of course, people fail to mention that). The dance was made up by white people, the music he dances to was composed by white people, and the actual desendants of the Illinwek are opposed to the "Chief."

And don't tell me about it being a "time-honored tradition." So what? There were many places, all across the country, that would take a Black person (back then they called them "negroes" or the other "n" word) and lynch that person for fun. It was a time-honored tradition. But we all know that's wrong, and we've all stopped doing that, right? (Well, hopefully.) Slavery was a time-honored tradition. Arranged marriages were a time-honored tradition. There are many time honored traditions that have been retired because the only people they honored were white men.

And don't tell me about the fact that only a minority of the people want him to be retired. Of course only a minority want him to be retired! Why? Because the people whom the "Chief" disrespects the most were forced to be a minority when European settlers stole their land from them and committed a mass genocide of their ethnic group. During the Civil Rights Movement, only a minority of people favored Civil Rights for African-Americans. The rest were very comfortable with Blacks being forced to live in dilapidated conditions, sit in the back of buses, get their food at the back door of restaurants, and be in constant fear of violence from whites. Was that treatment correct because only a minority of Americans had an issue with it? No.

The "Chief" is not a "proud" symbol of the Illiniwek. How can you claim to be honoring a group of people who don't at all feel honored by what you're doing? That's like when a woman walks down the street and men whistle and make lewd comments to her. They might feel as if they're complimenting her on her good looks, but if she feels uncomfortable and disrespected, they haven't honored her at all. But of course, this is America, and none of this is new. It’s not new that minorities are forced to inaccurate and hurtful representations of themselves and then told that it’s all in “good & clean fun.” Of course, the majority of people who are having "fun" at their expense know nothing about the plight of minorities in this country and don't care at all to be sensitive about how harmful and hurtful those stereotypes can be.

All that I can say is, "so long 'Chief!' I hope to never see your racist behind again!"


3. It's Black History Month! That's right. For 28 days, a lot of people have to pretend that they like Black people. Isn't that wonderful? The only problem with it is that it's turned into a month where all we do is quote the "I Have A Dream" speech (which wasn't even the correct name of the speech), and reduce African-American accomplishments to a list of people who did things like make gas masks, find new uses for peanut butter, and break the color barrier in American baseball.

Well, I'm here to tell you (if you didn't already know this) that the Black experience in America is about sooooooo much more than tired lists of achievements and inventions or old speeches taken completely out of context. It's about a people, a struggle, a joy, an overcoming, and a rising. And all that can't be forced into 28 days.

But, I will give UIS for doing a better job at honoring BHM than I've seen them do in the previous 2 years. Keep up the good work!

Well, I think that's enough ranting for now (or at least, all that you guys can take), so I'll retire. Until next time, keep fighting the powers that be!

Oh, I forgot! I AM a student!

My mother always kept me extremely busy as a child. There were ballet, tap, piano, flute, voice, and etiquette lessons. There was marching band, orchestra, and choir rehearsal. There was tennis and soccer practice. There was always something. I can't even remember a Saturday or a summer break spent in the house, lollying around like most kids my age. And for that, I'm glad. All the things that I participated in during my youth allowed me, in different ways, to learn new things, meet new people, and have fresh experiences. I wouldn't be who I am right now if it weren't for the myriad of teachers, team members, flautists, and dancers who each sowed something into my life.

The only bad thing about being that active of a child is that I sometimes don't know when to give things up. I am a member of a bunch of different groups (I'm a leader in many of them), and find myself constantly being invited to take part in many more. I always have an extremely hard time saying "no." I always feel that if I'm going to be the one complaining about certain things, then I should be the one to help make those things better. I sometimes forget that I can't make everything better by myself.

I also sometimes forget that I am actually a student. I can't tell you how many times I've come in from a meeting too tired to do a homework assignment or read the assigned chapters. It often seems that my classes get in the way of my activities, and that I begin to schedule them around the extracurricular things that I do. Of course, it should be vice versa.

So today, right here and right now, I pledge to remember that I am a student first! My main purpose here is to get an education, not see how many organizations I can rack up on my resume. So, if you see me anywhere other than a classroom on Tuesday and Wednesday, call me on it!

Day of Dialogue

Yesterday, (1/19) UIS' Student Life office hosted an event called the "Day of Dialogue" which was described as: "an interactive dialogue session designed to discuss issues of stereotypes, prejudice, and discrimination among all members of the campus community. The purpose of a dialogue is to create productive communication on controversial topics, allow members of the community to share in a safe environment, and to celebrate the life and legacy of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr." (No, I won't comment on the fact that Dr. King Day was on Monday and the even was held on Friday. I won't comment at all.)

Upon arrival at the event, participants (who'd been asked to register for the event...*shrug*) picked up a folder that had guidelines for discussion (dialogue vs. debate and ground rules), a biography of Dr. King's life, and a copy of his famous "I Have A Dream" speech. We were also given assignments to different groups that were identified by different colors (I was in the brown group. teehee) Then we received a greeting from our chancellor, Richard Ringeisen, and several short introductions to the event by Cynthia Thompson (Director of Student Life), Beth Hoag (Assistant Director of Student Life), Ryan Prosser (Resident Director), and Terri Jackson (Coordinator of Student Affairs).

The program began with a viewing of a short documentary, which contained Dr. King's "I Have A Dream" speech in its entirety. (I've already commented on how overused I think that speech is and how I think it hardly encompassed Dr. King's real vision for America.) I was immediately irked by the documentary's insistence that the theme of the march was "integration." Hardly. The official title of the march was "The March on Washington for JOBS and FREEDOM." It really had nothing to do with integration because, as we can obviously see, integration is not synonymous with economic advancements or equality. The whole belief that the central point of the march, and of the Civil Rights Movement, was integration, only deepens the incorrect assumption that the only thing that African-Americans really long for is complete assimilation. This is not the truth. What we want is equality, and black and white kids don't have to hold hands and sing Negro spirituals for that to be realized.

Next up was an exercise in which all participants were asked to stand in a straight line (which all of us couldn't fit on to), and take steps forwards or backwards depending on whether they could agree or disagree with statements such as:

"Growing up, you had your own bedroom with a door."
"One or both of your parents have college degrees."
"You have been afraid to bring a date to a function because of fear of rejection."
"You have been afraid to walk home alone at night on this campus."
"You have been followed by a security guard or clerk in a store."

In the end, I suppose those that were furthest out front were the ones who'd been able to agree with the statements that caused the most disadvantages in their lives. I've done this exercise many times before and I have two comments to make about this specific instance. First, I think that the questions could've been bolder. Secondly, I think certain questions that implied that you'd had a certain advantage in your life aren't always situations in which you're at an advantage.

We were then instructed to go back to our groups and discuss the exercise. Now, here is where things get tricky. First of all, the only people who ever come to these sorts of things are those who are already considered "liberal" or "progressive." Therefore, when you get into a group to discuss issues of race, class, gender, religion, ethnicity, and sexual orientation, you basically have a lot of people agreeing with each other and "amen"ing each other. It turns into more of a pep rally than an honest or productive dialogue. Of course, there's not much that the creators of the event can do about that since they can't exactly force certain people to come (or not come).

So, for an hour, my group basically sat around talking about the overt injustices in this country, and how we should "all just get along." That's not my bag. I tried to interject a little fire in the discussion with my insistence that "love," "acceptance," and "tolerance" were not the keys to people truly being able to get along. It is my belief that respect is the only necessary attribute. If you don't want to be around Black people, who am I to say that you should be forced to be around them? If you don't believe that "gay marriage" is a positive thing, why shouldn't you have every right to believe that? You don't have to accept, love, or even tolerate people with different views and hues. All you have to do is respect them for the simple fact that they're a human being. Because you respect them, you will not try to enact legislation that would seek to stifle their abilities to adequately take care of their families. Out of respect, you will understand that they should have proper healthcare, housing, and educations. That's it. You don't have to live next to them, go to school with them, go to church with them, or be their friends. You just have to respect them.

I also said that the real reasons for all types of discrimination in this country was the fact that certain people are scared that if other historically downtrodden groups receive the same resources that they receive, they will lose their power, prestige, and claim to the belief that they are superior. Now, a lot of people aren't exactly comfortable with that sort of talk because it asserts that racism is not just about individuals ignorantly not liking individuals because they're different or being afraid of what they don't know. It says that discrimination is a blatant attempt by those in power to stay in power. Period. This upsets people because they believe that discrimination in the forms of racism, sexism, and homophobia can be solved with the wave of a hand because its cause is simply ignorance. But, my belief says that discrimination can only be cured when those who actively seek to discriminate are put to a stop. This, of course, is highly unlikely.

All in all, I can say that I definitely believe that the intentions of the program were very nice. But sometimes dialogue isn't really enough, especially when those dialoguing are most likely going to agree with each other. Another thing is that a lot of the actions that people seem to want to stop with programs such as these are actions that people have the right to perform.

Last year, the Society of Conservative Students put up fliers in support of their "Pie the Conservative" campaign. In my opinion, the fliers had blatantly racist and sexist statements on them. Then, the SCS put on a rally in "defense of marriage," where they had a leading anti-gay marriage speaker give a bit of a lecture. Of course, the lecture sound awfully homophobic.

Here's the thing; they only did what they were well within their rights to do. They weren't bringing any physical harm to anyone (although they did bring mental stress to many, but bigotry does that), and they have every right to express their opinions on matters no matter how closed-minded and discriminatory those opinions may sound to others. This is what happens in the real world. You don't get special treatment because people talk about you. You don't get people to sob for you or feel sorry for you. You react in whatever way you deem necessary (in this case, we reacted with the "I Believe Campaign) and you move on. Harping on it only gives these people more publicity and that's the last thing we'd like them to have.

That's UIS. That's life.

Now that he is safely dead, let us build monuments......

Now that he is safely dead, let us build monuments to his greatness.

Tomorrow, we have been told, is the day that we celebrate the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and his life, contributions, and dream. We reflect upon the dream itself, it’s progress, and hopefully, its fulfillment. We are to try out hardest to make sure that Dr. King did not die in vain. We are to try our hardest to make sure that his dream stays alive.

While all of this is all well and good, perhaps we should more closely examine who Dr. King truly was and how we can best honor him. Let me clarify. Dr. King was a man of greatness. He was kind, courageous, just and determined. He continually put his own life at risk for the sake of causes he believed in with all of his might. He wrote great books, gave great lectures, and delivered great speeches. He was, in my opinion, the epitome of manhood. He was able to stand up when other sat down. Able to motivate millions of people when he was in need of encouragement. Able to be himself without justification, pause, or apologies. He was a man of righteous indignation and justified anger. However, it has only been of late that I met this Dr. King that I speak of.

Growing up, Dr. King was the man with the "dream,” who was shot and killed because he wanted Black folks to be able to sit at counters with white folks and eat burgers together. He was the man who wanted little white kids and Black kids (always the white kids first) to be able to join hands and sing Negro spirituals. He was the man that all my white teachers suggested I study when I wanted to study Josephine Baker (whom, they informed me, was a whore). He was the man who McDonalds aired commercials about on that day that we got off from school. He was a handsome, brown, cuddly man who always wore a smile and a dapper suit and hat. He was the man whom everyone loved.

It wasn’t until later that I found out that everyone loved him because he was dead. All of those people who had hated during his lifetime because he called for equality of all kinds like him now because he can't speak up any longer. I know that, in a country, so obsessed with trying to portray equality out of inequality, those words can be hard to stomach. King is probably the safest of all American heroes, but he wasn't always that way.

Now that King was safely buried in the ground, those who sought to destroy him while he walked on this earth could begin to drill one speech into our brains with the intensity of a child coloring with a dried up marker. They could press and press and press this one color, this one speech, into our collective memories and act as if this one speech represented all that King was, all that King wanted us to be, and all that we should be.

The march at which Dr. King delivered the speech was called the “March on Washington For Jobs and Freedom.” It was not called the "March For Blacks and Whites To Go To School With Each Other," or the "March For Pictures of A Black Hand Shaking A White Hand To Be Put Up On School Websites." It was not a march of facades and feel-good pictures. It was a march about goals of economic and racial equality. It was a march that shocked our then president, John F. Kennedy, because he had no idea that the Negroe citizens of his country were so unhappy. It was a march about the radicalism of everyone being able to have equal access to what this country has. It was a march about eradicating poverty, treating humans like humans, and not just acting as if things were changing, but actually changing things. But even with all of that, it was just one march. It was one day out of millions of days. It was one event out of thousands of events. It was one speech out of hundreds of speeches. It was not the beginning and it wasn’t the end.

Dr. King gave other speeches. Speeches about how evil war was. Speeches about evil poverty was. Speeches about how ridiculous the lack of good healthcare was. He said, “the world is all messed up. The nation is sick. Trouble is in the land. Confusion all around.” But yet, all we’re bombarded with is, “I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word." But what about, “there is nothing more dangerous than to build a society, with a large segment of people in that society, who feel that they have no stake in it; who feel that they have nothing to lose. People who have a stake in their society, protect that society, but when they don't have it, they unconsciously want to destroy it?”

Why is it that I hear more about Dr. King wanting Blacks and whites to like each other than I hear about statements such as, “we must never be ashamed of our heritage…or the color of our skin. Black is as beautiful as any color….I am black and beautiful.” Why is it that we hear more about Dr. King wanting unity amongst Blacks and whites than we do about Dr. King wanting us to treat those who do not reside in America with the same dignity? What about when Dr. King said, “God didn’t call America to do what she’s doing in the world now….God didn’t call America to engage in a senseless, unjust war…and we are criminals in that war. We have committed more war crimes almost than any nation in the world and I’m going to continue to say it. And we won’t stop it because of our pride, and our arrogance as a nation.”

Why haven’t we talked more about Dr. King; the realist? Why are we so stuck on Martin; the Dreamer? What good is a dream without actions? What good are quotable quotes without a complete picture?

I’ll tell you what good they are. They’re good for those who hated Dr. King when he was alive and now build monuments to him in his death because they know he's not alive to protect his own legacy and too many people are dense enough to let them create one for him. They’re good because they safely put blinders on our eyes. They raise up a man that we love and mutilate him into a man that they can love. They tell us just enough about him so that we can walk hand in hand one Monday out of the year. They tell us just enough so that we can keep on hanging onto that one “dream” that has long since turned into a nightmare of gargantuan proportions (especially for African-Americans).

Dr. King wasn’t a harmless caricature of a man who thought the solution to all injustice was integration. No, that's what they would have you to believe. Dr. King wasn’t like the Jesus in the pictures who went around carrying lambs. Dr. King was more like the Jesus who went into the temple and overturned tables. He was a man who said things like, “But God has a way of putting nations in their place……He has a way of saying ‘if you don’t stop your reckless course, I’ll rise up and break the backbone of your power.’ And that can happen to America.”

And yet, a man who lost his life while fighting for the rights of sanitation workers is now celebrated by Fortune 500 companies and we sit idly by as if that makes an ounce of sense. We sit around and listen to people twist his words for their own twisted gain while they support a war that Dr. King would’ve been just as sickened by as he was by the Vietnam War.

What we need to do is stop dreaming and WAKE UP and smell the coffee. We better take back Martin. We better let him have his own dream and think of some ways to get ourselves out of this terrible situation. We better remember who he was. We better be willing to give our lives just like he gave his.

It's been a loooong, a long time coming, but I knooow a change gon come!

That's a lil Sam Cooke for ya. If you don't know Sam Cooke's name but know Justin Timberlake's name, remove yourself from my blog immediately! LOL. Just kidding. Or am I?

Anyway, it's been a long time, I shouldn't have left you without a dope blog to step to! (That's a lil Aaliyah.) I know I've been terrible about updating my blog, and I know that every time I do update I say, "I won't ever leave your side this long again." But this time, I mean it! I'm going to take the time out, every Friday morning to write a blog because you deserve to hear the voice of the angry Black girl who sits in the back of the class steaming over the latest pseudo-racist comment that the teacher or student has made. You need this voice!

What's new with me? Glad you asked. In my very first appearance as a graduate student at UIS, I received two As and one B on my report card (doesn't "report card" sound so very grammar schoolish?)! And so that leaves me with a 3.75 (or thereabouts). Not bad for the girl who really didn't want to get a Masters but felt it would be incredibly dumb to not get one seeing as someone else was going to pay for it.

For the last past month, I've been at home in Chicago (my hometown), chilling and taking in all the polluted air. Feels so fresh! I'll admit that, at times, I do enjoy the slower pace of Springfield, but nothing beats home! I mean, our news is always so exciting! Somebody got shot! Somebody smuggled money! Someone's corrupt! Somebody burned down somebody else's house! That's quality stuff right there! Where else in Illinois can you go and see Dreamgirls on Christmas Day and walk out into a parking lot full of cops inspecting every car as it leaves the parking lot? Nowhere!

And let's not talk about the food. I've tried to have every Chicago staple food in the book since I've been here. Giordano's and Lou Malnati's deep dish pizza. Maxwell Street Polish sausages. Joy Yee's pan-Asian cuisine (sorry, but the Asian cuisine in Springfield is sub par, at best). The Greek Islands lamb. And today, I'm going to Maggiano's Little Italy to eat Italian food until I blow up!

I also got a tattoo (an equal sign) and a haircut (take it all off, taper the sides!).

I'll be returning to school in time for MLK Day and I'll be hitting you with a blog to talk about what I think about the holy grail of America's obsession with trying to seem as if it isn't a racist country. (And if you don't believe we live in a racist country, well, then, I don't know what to tell ya!)

Until then, love, peace, and SSSSSSOOOOOOOUUUUULLLLL!

World AIDS Day-HIV/AIDS in the African-American Community

“When America gets a cold, black America gets pneumonia". - Joseph Lowery, the president emeritus of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference

Black people are dying. We are being killed by a murderer who eludes investigation. He stalks our communities, depending on our ignorance to assist him in his murderous rage. While we look for danger in one direction, he enters from the other. He’s a treacherous murderer. He doesn’t just kill; he mutilates, maims, and then mocks. He’s a serial killer with an unrelenting appetite for blood. He seems to be invisible, never leaving a trace, only death. He shows no mercy and never discriminates. He’s an equal opportunist; killing men, women, boys, and girls. He relies on our ignorance to aid him in his genocidal quest. His name is Auto-Immune Deficiency Syndrome. AIDS.

If AIDS were a person, and we could see his police sketch posted up in our supermarkets, banks, and libraries, we would be terrified. We would lock our doors, watch our children, and carry mase with us wherever we went. We’d demand that our authorities do something about this killer running wild in our streets. We’d march in our neighborhoods. Our pastors would host huge rallies. We’d set up phone banks where people would call with tips. He’d be on the FBI’s most wanted list in the top spot. “America’s Most Wanted” would feature him weekly. But since AIDS is not a visible artifact, we ignore him with the hopes that he will disappear. But he doesn’t have any intentions of going anywhere, and worst of all, we’re aiding him in his mission!

Even though the AIDS epidemic in the black community is not a recent occurrence, it has garnered more attention lately for several different reasons. First, during the 2004 elections, journalist Gwen Ifill moderated a debate between the incumbent Vice-President Dick Cheney, and John Edwards. When Ifill asked the two candidates what they thought the government’s role should be in combating the AIDS epidemic in the Black community where, “where black women between the ages of 25 and 44 are 13 times more likely to die of the disease than their counterparts,” Cheney avoided the question. Not only did he begin to talk about the AIDS epidemic in Africa (when Ifill specifically asked him to focus on African-AMERICANS), he then said, “Here in the United States, we've made significant progress. I have not heard those numbers with respect to African- American women. I was not aware that it was -- that they're in epidemic there, because we have made progress in terms of the overall rate of AIDS infection…..obviously we need to do more of that.” To make matters worse, John Edwards, considered the more liberal of the two made the same blunder by immediately addressing the AIDS epidemic in Africa (and how aid to that issue needs to be doubled), he never addressed AIDS in the Black community at all.

Obviously, this was a wake up call to many African-Americans. Although it should come as no surprise, it only solidified the belief that our government is, in no way, shape or form, concerned about the black community.

The second reason why AIDS in the black community has taken center stage is the awareness of the “phenomenon” called the “down low.” Basically, a person (male or female) is living on the “down low” when they are living their lives publicly as straight individuals but participating in same-sex activities in private. Many of the people who participate in this type of activity are in heterosexual relationships and intentionally deceive their partners. Many people have the belief that black men having sexual relations with other men is the source of the problem of AIDS in the black community.

Although many may speculate as to why AIDS has been able to gain such a stronghold in black America, one definitive answer cannot be given. In August 2006, ABC News broadcasted an hour long program dedicated to the dilemma of AIDS in the black community. The project was started by the late journalist Peter Jennings and was carried on by ABC after his death. The program was wise enough to recognize that a problem of this magnitude seldom every has one cause. They gave six reasons as to why they believe AIDS is hitting African-Americans in such epidemic proportions. The reasons were:
1. Ignorance
2. Government failure
3. Patterns of sexual behavior
4. Shortage of Black men
5. Gay Black men
6. Failed Black leadership
As the aforementioned reasons are self-explanatory, I will briefly analyze each reason.

Ignorance always plays a huge part in any scourge. From the Bubonic plague to the Holocaust, it is a fact that the more people that are unaware of a situation, the less controllable a situation becomes. Many people are not aware of the following statistics that are clearly posted on Illinois’ Brothers and Sisters United Against HIV/AIDS website:
· Nationally, AIDS is the leading cause of death among African American women age 25-34 and the second leading cause of death of African American men age 35-44.
· HIV/AIDS cases among African Americans are the highest among all racial/ethnic groups with a total of 1,406 cases reported in 2004 in Illinois, which consists of more than half the total reported cases in the state (2,662). Whites comprised 26 percent of the reported cases, Hispanics 15 percent and Asians 1.4 percent.
· Of the total reported HIV cases among females in Illinois, 70 percent were African-American.
· Among the total male population with HIV in Illinois, 47 percent were African American.
· Nearly 72 percent of African-American women and 64 percent of African-American men with HIV infection reported in 2004 were under 40 years of age.

The ABC special focused on the ignorance of policy makers, entertainers, and religious leaders who seem more enthusiastic about tending to the needs of foreign nations while people in their own countries suffer. For instance, when the Rev. Jesse Jackson was interviewed for the show, he, in the same vein as Cheney and Edwards, began to address the issue of AIDS in Africa instead of AIDS in the African-American communities.

While I agree that ignorance amongst the “rich and famous” is certainly not helping the situation, I believe that the ignorance of the majority of black Americans is what is hurting us the most. We, as a people, have seldom been able to count on aid from the majority, and we’ve often had to take issues into our own hands and fight. Unfortunately, many African-Americans have no idea just how rampant AIDS is, and instead of searching for our own solutions, we look to an uncaring government to help us.

Government failure ties into not only the issue of ignorance (as was made evident by Edward’s and Cheney’s lack of knowledge), but it also brings up the issue of racism. One must ask, if AIDS was the number one killer of white women ages 18-, would the government have allowed it to go this far? Would the vice-president have “have not heard those numbers with respect to Caucasian-American women?” I think not. They would’ve put into place policies that help educate people and therefore, stop transmission. For instance, it is a well known fact that African-American men make up a disproportionately large percentage of the imprisoned males in America. It’s also a well known fact that many men participate in same-sex relations while incarcerated. This turns prisons into breeding grounds for all types of sexually transmitted diseases, and especially AIDS. To make matters worse, when some of these men are released from prison, they return to heterosexual activities, which spreads AIDS amongst the African-American female community. These are all obvious facts. However, our government REFUSES to give condoms to male prisoners. While our government turns their head and pretends as if they’re not aware that men have sex in jail, the black community is suffering.

In addition to the suffering experienced because of our government’s lack of concern, African-Americans constantly put themselves at risk for AIDS by having unprotected sex and using intravenous drugs. Why do so many black Americans, especially black women, choose to have unprotected sex?

They do it because of an either real or perceived notion that there is a serious shortage of black men. Beverly Guy-Sheftall, a professor of women’s studies at the historically black Spelman College said, “Many of the women on campus are panic stricken because of the feeling of scarcity. I see a lot of problematic sexual decision-making among black women across class and age lines.” To put it plainly, many black women are so afraid that they won’t find a suitable mate, that they are willing to put their lives at risk by having unprotected sex because their sexual partner pressures them. Since many black men have high turnover rates because of the shortage in their numbers, many black women are having sex with the same black men. It doesn’t help that black women are amongst the groups that are the least likely to date outside of their race. This concentrates the pool of infection even more.

The next reason that ABC gave was that there are larger numbers of gay men in the black community than in the white and Hispanic ones. This is the only reason that I take issue with. First of all, GAY black men do not give AIDS to women. They don’t have sex with women. I think it’s important to differentiate between gay men and bisexual men. It’s also even more important to differentiate between bisexual men and dishonest men. The lack of differentiation encourages homophobia amongst the black community, which is said to be one of the more homophobic communities in America. If black people are given the impression that black gay men are killing black women, this simply allows unnecessary resentment to build which in turn prevents many gay black men from being open about their sex life for fear of ridicule. This fear of chastisement is what encourages many gay black men to stay in heterosexual relationships for façade purposes only. This is how AIDS in the heterosexual black community and AIDS in the black gay community are linked. Gay black men should not be criminalized because their criminalization only contributes to the problem of the “down low.”

Finally, ABC addressed the issue of the dropping of the ball by black leadership. They suggested that black leaders have not been as instrumental in helping to fight AIDS as they should be. I totally agree, and I especially believe that this is true in reference to black religious leaders. Historically, black religious leaders have been strong figures in the black community. From Dr. King to Malcolm X, religious figures have spearheaded many of the fights that black people now reap the benefits of. However, it seems as if the days of the strong and concerned black leader are gone. Jesse Jackson’s lack of knowledge about AIDS is just one glaring example. Another example is the neo-con wave of doctrine that has been sweeping through the black community. Since AIDS first began in the gay community, and many black preachers teach that homosexuality is a sin, many black congregations choose to turn their heads and ignore the problem for fear that they will appear to be condoning homosexual behavior. In addition, many of these black pastors have chosen to side with George Bush on many issues, and it’s most obvious that George Bush’s priorities do not lie with the black community.

So, is there a solution for this problem? Well, just like a problem has multiple causes, it can have multiple solutions. The first solution is to educate, educate, educate! As the older black people used to say, “when you know better, you do better.” If black people, and black women especially, realize just how serious AIDS is, perhaps they’d be more willing to practice safer sexual habits. Secondly, and this is solely my opinion, the black community must stop homophobia in our communities. As I said before, homophobia only worsens the problem. Lastly, we must take matters into our own hands. It’s evident that we are not going to be helped by the government, so we must help ourselves. It is our job to stop AIDS in its tracks and place it under civilian arrest.

I'm back with a diversity attack!

Well, here it is, the Thursday before Thanksgiving, and I'm finally getting a chance to update my blog. Again, it's been a long time.

As I told you on my last blog, Sankofa had a fish fry on November 10th and I videotaped a little bit of it. Next week, I'm going to go back to school and work on getting that vlog out for all of you to see.

Now, back to the nitty gritty. If you read my very first blog in this series, you'll notice that I made this statement: "As any of my dear friends can tell you, I'm what people call "real." And since the names of our blogs are called "The Real Deal," that's exactly what my blog is going to be. The Real Deal. UIS in all of its glorious splendor and in some of its not-so-glorious splendor."

So, let's get real, shall we? Let's get real on "diversity." (oooooooohaaaaaaah)

I grew up on the Southside of Chicago. In case you didn't know, Chicago is considered to be the most segregated city in America. Hell, I didn't know that different ethnicities lived on the same block in the inner-city until I went to college and found out that some of my friends from St. Louis had white neighbors. Dr. Martin Luther King even said that out of all the marches he'd done in the South, he'd never felt the level of hate that he felt when he came to Chicago to fight for housing rights. So, as you can imagine, in a city like that, I didn't hear much about diversity. People keep to themselves and it's seen as acceptable. And when they don't keep to themselves, there are often dire consequences. (Like the Black boy who was brutally beaten in Bridgeport [a white neighborhood on Chicago's Southside] simply because he was riding his bike in the area. Of like my friend in high school who's family received death threats because they moved onto an all-white block. This happened in 2001.)

But when I first went away to college, I started hearing this buzzword. Diversity. It's defined as, "The fact or quality of being diverse." Diverse is defined as, "Differing one from another." Plain and simple. Short and sweet. Diversity is simply the presence of different kinds of people. At least, that's what I had been taught. But all of a sudden, I was seeing all these other things being attributed to "diversity." I started to hear and read statements like:

"Dedication to diversity is part of the fabric of the university and integral to its vision..."

"Our Human Rights Policy ensures access, diversity and inclusion for our students and our employees and serves as the foundation for greater understanding, tolerance and respect for every individual."

"the attainment of diversity is the responsibility of every person and the path toward greater civility."

All of a sudden, diversity means appreciation and respect. It wasn't just the presence of different kinds of people, it was about welcoming people of different ethnicities, abilities, sexual orientations, genders, religions, nationalities, classes, and social backgrounds.

My issue wasn't with people changing the meaning of the word. That's done very often in the human language. Although it's original meaning only referred to the presence of difference, I could see how people would want to use it for other reasons. People change word's meanings on a regular basis and once enough people come to understand the word in its new meaning, it can be used in that capacity. My issue was with the words they put along with diversity.

"Commitment"
"Tolerance"

Let's take on commitment first. One thing I've always noticed about different "diversity" groups (groups that supposedly focus on promoting diversity) is that they're wishy-washy. They're "of the moment" kind of groups. What's the hot topic of today? Let's address that! Who's being picked on the worst right now? Let's help them! Now, I understand that as times change, people must come to address different issues, but just because you start to address different issues doesn't mean you should stop addressing other issues. A few weeks ago, I attended two "diversity group" meetings within the span of a week. I heard very little about any concerns dealing with ethnic minorities. In fact, during one of the few times when ethnic minorities were briefly mentioned in passing to a "more important" issue, misinformation was given. Chicago State University was referred to as a Historically Black College or University (HBCU). My mother attended Chicago State in the 70s when it was Chicago Teacher's College and she was one of the few Black people there. So, even if CSU had been predominantly Black for 25-30 years, that doesn't make it an HBCU. But I suppose that, when talking about Black people, accurate information is not necessary.

In another brief acknowledgement, ethnic minorities were referred to as "special needs" groups. Now, while we might have some needs that White students don't have, the term "special needs" is often associated with those who have psychological or learning disorders. Being Black is not a disorder.

So where's the commitment here? Surely nobody could possibly think that after 400 years of the most brutal kind of slavery and more than 100 years of state-sanctioned racial discrimination, violence and prejudice could be eradicated in the 41 years since the National Voting Rights Act? (And I'm being lenient. We all know the quest for true justice didn't start in 1965!) So why is it that we're already finished talking about the needs and rights of African-Americans? Commitment? I think not.

Tolerance is word number two. This word is derived from the word "tolerate," which means, "To allow without prohibiting or opposing." Basically, tolerance is when you really don't like a person, but you don't take active steps to harm that person. (Of course, now people have changed the definition to imply appreciation and respect, but that's not the original meaning.) Wow. Gotta love it. So, after 400 years of free work, all my people get is toleration? Hmmm, you'd think we'd be getting thanks. Guess not. I don't feel as if I should be tolerated. I feel that I should be respected. Perhaps I'm alone in that summation.

It really all boils down to realness. We live in a politically correct time when people try to say the things they think they ought to say. (See how confusing that sentence was? That's just how confusing the situation is.) So, people pretend to care about "diversity" because they know that, if they don't, they'll have problems on their hands. And those of us, who have been historically (and currently; look at Katrina) mistreated sometimes are prone to buying into the rhetoric of these groups without ever taking a serious look at their sincerity, or lack thereof. Don't tell me that you're committed to true diversity and then lose your commitment as soon as something more interesting comes along. Don't tell me about tolerance as if that's something to be desired.

I know that I can't make people like me as an African-American woman. There are people who are just flat-out racists, and that's a-OK with me. It's not about getting people to like me, it's about making sure that their dislike of me doesn't effect my opportunities. That's all it's about. And if you're not committed to that, you're not committed to diversity.

Long time, no see!

Well, you wanted the UIS Real Deal didn't you? So now you've gotten it. Almost three weeks since I've last posted! That's the real deal here at UIS. There's never a dull moment and seldom is there downtime. Especially when you're an active participant on this campus. And that I am.

Let's see:
1. I'm the president of Sankofa. Sankofa is sort of like UIS's Black Student Union. We're a service and social organization that loves to have fun, and loves to help and educate others. And guess what? Our annual Friday Fish Fry is coming up in a couple of weeks! Look out for my Vlog on that.

2. Graduate Senator of the Student Government Association. This is one of my newer activities. But it does still keep me quite busy at times. My duty is to be the voice for all the graduate students here at UIS. And that's A LOT of students!

3. Student Member of the Graduate Council. The Graduate Council's duty is to look out for the grad students. Make sure our curriculum is competetive, that we are getting access to the things we need, and that we're going to be able to graduate one day!

4. Ambassador for the Brothers and Sisters United Against HIV/AIDS. This is a statewide initiative set up by Gov. Rod Blagojevich to help the fight against HIV/AIDS in the African-American community in Illinois. This job entails helping to set up activities on campus and in Springfield.

5. Student Affairs Advisory Group. This group basically is a way for students to give feedback and suggestions to our admissions department.

6. Center For First Year Programs Advisor. CFYP is a new department at UIS that basically seeks to help all of our first year students. Whether they're the traditional high school grads, a first year graduate student, or a transfer student. I'm an Advisor, so my job is to help out my advisee.

7. Student representative at the Community Volunteer Center Advisory Board. I just accepted this position and my first meeting is in November. Yay!

8. Various other activities. I participate on student panels at Preview Days and try to attend various meetings of various boards on this campus.

9. Student! That’s right. The most important of all these things is that I’m a graduate student! I’m a Whitney Young Fellow, so that means I have to keep a minimum G.P.A. of 3.0 and do community service.
Whew. I think that's it! But you get the point. UIS is a great place for people who are natural-born leaders! Of course, you can be lazy here too, but I wouldn't recommend it. It's a lot more fun if you're involved.

I promise my next post won't be as long coming to you as this one has. As I said, Sankofa is having our Fish Fry on November 10th and I'm going to tape it, so that everyone can see just how much fun you can have at UIS! Talk to ya later!

Your new Graduate Senator!

Hello all,

It's been a while, I know. I apologize, but I honestly haven't had much to report except for the fact that I'm still extremely busy.

One of the things I've always loved about UIS is that, since it's such a small campus, it's very easy to get involved with different organzations and you have a lot of leadership opportunities. Now, while I may be wary of anyone who makes an intentional grab for power, I do know that cultivating strong leaders is very important. Especially in our generation. At UIS, you can easily be given the chance to help mold our campus and your input is almost always appreciated and requested. Your voice can be heard here.

So, I've been the Chair of Publicity for the Student Activities Committee, the vice-president and president of Sankofa, a Board Member on the Inter-Club Council Board and Graduate Council, Campus Ambassador for the Brothers and Sisters United Against HIV/AIDS initiative, and now I can add Graduate Senator in the Student Government Association to that!

That's right y'all. I was most graciously appointed to that position on Sunday evening by our lovely SGA. And thank goodness, cause a sista could NOT handle a campaign. Not my style. The mudslinging, the posters, the forums..........nah.

So, without sounding all politicized, I'll just say that my aim in my new position is to assist in taking any actions that will help the student body at large and graduate students specifically. So, if you have some issues, let a sista know! I'm here to serve you!

Whoa! I'm sorry.....I thought we were adults now.

When I was a child, I spake as a child, I felt as a child, I thought as a child: now that I am become a man, I have put away childish things. -I Corinthians 13:11


I remember, before going to college, hearing college students talk about "high school mess." At the time, I found it to be quite offensive. This whole notion that only high schoolers acted foolishly was quite evidently not true to me. But now that I've gone through four years of college, I see exactly what people mean!

For all of my peers who've been out of high school for a while, let me take you back. You remember people not liking you because their friend didn't like a friend of your friend's? High school. Remember people talking during class like they were having a phone conversation? High school. Remember name-calling? High school. Remember the blame game? High school. Actively trying to ruin someone else's reputation? High school. Talking behind people's backs? High school.

Now, I know some of you are saying, "Hold up! I've been through college and I can say, first hand, that all of those things are things that grown people do." And you'd be correct in that statement. I found that out my very first year of college. My point is that, in high school, these were things that were expected of you. You were young, immature, a know-it-all. People didn't expect for you to act like an adult because you weren't! While they did expect for you to exercise common sense, they didn't expect your common sense to be that of an adult's.

But now that you're an adult, you should "put away childish things."

1. Stop disliking people for no reason. "She think she cute," is not a reason to sneer at somebody everytime they walk past. "They've changed," is not a good reason either. Change is inevitable.

2. Be quiet during class! Maybe you're here for free, but everyone else is paying, and they're not paying to hear you whisper to your friend for an hour or two. If you don't have some sort of disorder, turn around, hush, and pay attention!

3. Calling people out of their given names should've stopped in third grade. Unless whatever you're calling them is meant as a compliment, go get their damn birth certificate, memorize the name on it, and call them that! Angry utterances are understandable, but constant name-calling? When I worked at the day care center, we used to have to advice the children against this sort of behavior. They were 3.

4. If you made the decision to do something that was not smart, and the consequences are negative, be an adult, step up, and take the blame. I know it's tough. Nobody likes to have their mistakes thrown in their face, but actually taking responsibility for your actions might just lessen their impact. Maybe people will understand if you're not pointing the finger at someone else. I went through this same sort of situation in my second year of college. I made a mistake that several other people participated in. In the end, I was the only one to step up and take the blame, and it severly impacted my life. But I have never looked back on that day in shame. I am proud that I stood up, took responsibility, apologized, and took my punishment like the grown woman that I am. And I didn't feel the need to tell everyone who the other involved parties were. They are responsible for them. I'm responsible for me.

5. If someone is a terrible person, soon enough, people will find out. If you find it necessary to publicly slander people and try to spread the news of their "evildoing" to others in a blatant attempt to spread scandal, they must not be that bad at all. There are, of course, exceptions to this rule.

6. If you have a legitimate (or what you perceive to be legitimate) problem with someone else, tell THEM. Unless they're doing something illegal and/or dangerous, telling other people about their faults will not solve or alter their perceived faults. Making negative comments about people while they are not present just makes you look immature. And if you have something to say about somebody that you can't say to their face, it also makes your comments sound unfounded. It sounds like you're too afraid that the truth will come out and you'll be put to shame. The only reason to say something "behind someone's back" is because they're not in the room for you to say it to their face.

I now see what my sister and her friends were referring to when they talked about "high school mess." They were talking about things that grown-ups shouldn't do, but do. They were talking about actions that were performed by people who expect the respect that grown-ups deserve but act like children who only deserve to be monitored. Now, I've been guilty of all 6 of these things WHILE in college, so I am not exempt from this. But I knew when I was doing it that it was childish and did not merit respect, and I tried hard to keep it from happening again.

So to all of my friends who are forced to deal with or are encountered by people who do "high school mess," much respect to you. Keep your adult head high and avoid the immaturity like the plague!

Peace & Progress!

OMSA Welcome Reception

Yesterday was the Office of Multicultural Student Affairs Annual Welcome Reception and it was a huge success!

According to the e-mail that Terri Jackson, the director of OMSA, sent out, the reception was, “an opportunity to meet new and returning students, as well as faculty, staff and administrators,” and “the goal of the reception is to introduce students to individuals within the campus and the larger Springfield community.”

And there was free food!! (What? I’m a poor college student! Don’t act like you don’t think the same things!)

The reception began at 4:30 with a social time. There were a lot of people there from the University (students, faculty, professors), the Sangamon Schools Credit Union, and the community. The students were quite the diverse mix. We had everybody from first year freshman to third year graduate students and everyone in between. Basically, the attendees were diverse in every sense of the word.

Which, of course, is OMSA’s goal. A diverse campus. Terri Jackson has done an EXCELLENT job of supporting all the minority and underrepresented groups on this campus. As a former employee of the OMSA and a member of SASSI (what QSA was before last year), I have personal experience with working with Ms. Jackson.

My first year here SASSI (Students Against Sexual Stereotypes and Inequality), put on its second annual Alternative Prom. The purpose of the Alternative Prom is to give people of all sexual orientations a safe space to enjoy themselves. With Terri’s help, it went off swimmingly as I know my friend Meeka Mason (the former president) can attest to.

She’s always available and she’s always ready to lend her support to whomever needs it. There are probably hundreds (if not thousands) of students, past and present, who have come to Ms. Jackson when they were in a bind and she found a way to bail them out. So big ups to Ms. Jackson and to her office! I want her to know that a lot of people truly appreciate all the things that she does and how willingly she supports the underrepresented communities on this campus. Unbeknownst to many, they wouldn’t be where they are if not for Ms. Jackson.

So, back to the event. I’m a foodie (as you can probably tell), so I like to describe menus. We had chicken wings (fried and buffalo), egg rolls, mozzarella sticks, little cakes, fruits, cheeses, and bacon-wrapped chestnuts. All provided by UIS’ Food Services!

There was a short program which included Ms. Jackson giving the welcome and Chancellor Ringeisen and Vice Chancellor For Student Affairs Miller giving hilarious (and short) speeches. And then more eating and socializing!

All in all, I can say that a great time was had by all attendees and I met a lot of new people and saw a lot of new faces! UIS is growing!

If you want more information on the Office of Multicultural Student Affairs, you can visit their office in CPV 161, or their website at:

http://www.uis.edu/multiculturalstudentaffairs/

Or e-mail Ms. Jackson at:

Tjack1@uis.edu

She’d be happy to hear from you!

Till next time!

Second Period: Beginning Guitar

My senior year in high school was filled with music classes. I only needed an art and English class to fulfill my graduation requirements, but all students were required to stay in the school for all eight periods. So, I filled my schedule with music classes. Beginning guitar, beginning orchestra, and beginning chorus were my three music classes of the day. Since I had been a musician in some capacity since the age of 7, and knew many of the music teachers because of my involvement in the school’s marching band, music classes seemed to be the most logical step.

My first period class was honors English on the second floor of the A building. As I walked down the stairs, I probably bumped into my friend Barbara and began talking to her about, well, probably nothing. I rushed to my locker to put away my English books. After second period guitar came division, and after division was my lunch period. Since we had open campus for juniors and seniors, I always met my friends at the front door and then rushed out so we could be first in line at whatever greasy spoon we chose for that day.

I passed Mr. Burgess office and gave him a quick hug as I did everyday.

“Staying out of trouble?”

“I’m trying Mr. Burgess, but you know these folks be gunnin for me!”

Same exchange everyday.

Someone stopped me in the hall to give me the latest gossip, which usually included a brief blurb about what fast-tailed freshman had most recently pushed up on my boyfriend. A quick shake of the head and roll of the eyes later, and I was back on my mission to the B Building orchestra room where beginning guitar was held.

Barely making it in the allotted 4 minutes, I’d sit in my seat on the front row, throw my purse down, and then head to the locker where my guitar was. Grabbed it, plopped back down on the seat, and on the purse that I always forgot was on the seat, unlatched the guitar and brought it out of the case.

And like clockwork, Janae, the class loudmouth, came into the class being, you guessed it, LOUD.

“Girl, somebody can’t fly a *expletive* plane. That’s a damn shame.”

I didn’t pay attention to her. I never did.

“Girl, what are you talking about, and why are you so loud doing it?” My guitar teacher, Mr. Henry, asked Janae.

“I’m talkin bout how a plane hit a building in New York City. That’s what the expletive I’m talkin bout.”
“Stop cussin.”

“Sorry.”

“I been trying to get a phone call into NYC all this morning,” Mr. Henry said. “That must be why I can’t get a call through.”

I turned around to my friend Monique who sat right behind me. She was picking at her long nails and wondering how badly she was going to get tongue lashed from Mr. Henry today. Both of us wore long acrylic, and heavily decorated, nails during high school, and as you can imagine, this didn’t make for the most efficient acoustic guitar playing. But we both felt like beauty was not to be sacrificed for 45 minutes a day, 5 days a week.

“You hear about that,” I asked.

“Girl, no. You KNOW she lyin,” Monique responded with a laugh. “She always comin up in here telling some crazy story bout what she done heard. Don’t forget she said she saw Tupac at the SuperMall yesterday!”

We both laughed.

Class began.

Five minutes into class, Ms. Myles, the orchestra teacher, came into the room and walked over to Mr. Henry. Ms. Myles, who wore a permanent smile, had a furrowed brow and worried look. I liked, no loved, Ms. Myles. After one of my school newspaper articles had thrown the school into a hot debate on whether or not Cleopatra was black, she had invited me to her home where her husband, and Egyptologist, explained the true lineage of the Queen. So, seeing her upset did not make me happy.

She whispered something in his ear. His brow became furrowed. He looked at her and asked her to repeat it. She whispered it again. He followed her into the band office without a single, “don’t get loud in here, and use this time to practice!”

Since I had been drum major the previous year, I was usually given free access to the band office which is where three of the music teachers had their offices. I sat my guitar in the case and followed Mr. Henry and Ms. Myles into the office. Mr. Hines, the third band teacher spotted me, and quickly said, “Go back to class.”

“But I just wanted to….,”

“Go back!”

Mr. Hines never yelled.

I walked back into the orchestra room with all eyes on me. For all intensive purposes, I had been the spy. I walked over to Janae and asked her to repeat what she had said earlier.

“Giiiiiirl, a plane hit one of those tall buildings in New York. Just went right into that *expletive.”

I sat back down. Mr. Henry came back into the room. He said nothing, but worry was written all over his face. By the time the 45 minute class period was over, most had forgotten Janae’s claim or Mr. Henry’s worried look. As soon as the bell sounded, everyone ran out of the room and made a quick dash for their division room. My division room just so happened to be the orchestra room, so I stayed seated.

As Mr. Henry was gathering his things, I asked him what was wrong.

“Go into the band office and look at the TV,” was his only reply.

I went into the band office and watched. At first, I couldn’t make out what I was watching. I looked at the bottom banner across the screen and read and re-read it.

“Two airplanes hit both towers of the World Trade Center.”

What?

Jerome, a boy who played trombone in the marching band was sitting down on the couch watching too.

“Dang, somebody can’t fly a plane worth a damn!”

“Fool,” Cassandra said. “Shut up! They did it on purpose, duh!”

It was the first time that thought had crossed my mind. I spun around in horror and faced her.

“Are you sure?”

“Shannon, what are the odds of two different planes hitting two different buildings on the same day?”

My heart dropped.

“Awwwww damn,” Jerome yelled looking at the television in horror.

I turned around to see the Pentagon with a huge hole in one side.

The band office erupted in, “I’m takin my black behind home,” and “We under straight up attack y’all,” “awww ish, they gon get us now!”

I ran to the phone and dialed my mother’s school.

“Proctor APC,” answered the clerk.

“Hi Daisy, this is Shannon, Ms. Carter’s daughter,” I said in the calmest tone that I could muster. “Can you get my mom?”

“Well, she’s in class right now sweetie.”

“I know, but I really need to talk to her.”

“Can I give her a message?”

“Can you tell her to pick me up today?”

“Is something wrong?”

“Have you been watching the news?”

“No, should I be?”

“We’re under attack.”

The rest of the day was a blur to me. The halls were all either unusually quiet or unusually loud. Many people who left for their lunch periods didn’t come back. Instead the boarded the Orange Line El and went home.

The students at Curie High School in Chicago had a real reason to be afraid. The next stop down from us on the Orange Line was Midway Airport.

I refused to board the El.

“Ain’t no damn way I’m getting on that El! Not today,” I told my friend Shannon (yeah, her name was Shannon too).

Mr. Hines walked into my Beginning Orchestra class and gave us one of his, "real talks."

"See, you can't go around treating people like trash forever. They're gonna come back on you one day. See, the U.S. government has been treating people like the dirt under their feet for years, and now it's coming back on all of us. We all gotta pay now for what they've done. Shoot, everyone in this class is Black or Mexican. You know we didn't do nothing to these folks! But all of us gotta pay now, just because we live here. Just because we're Americans too."

Samantha raised her hand.

"Why all of us?"

I don't remember his answer, but I know it couldn't have been sufficient because I'm still asking the same question.

My mother picked me up after school and explained to me all she knew. We went home and watched the news all evening and into the night. Again and again, I watched the planes hit the WTC. I watched the building crumble. I watched people jump out of windows. I watched horrified and dirt-blackened faces yell and scream. I saw a crashed plane laying in a field. I saw a smoldering Pentagon. When I finally could take no more, I crawled out of my mother’s bed and said good night.

She grabbed my arm and pulled me to her.

“I love you baby.”

“I love you too mommy.”

That was five years ago today.

A Weekend In the Windy City

One of the good things about living in Springfield is the fact that you're so close to Chicago. Since I'm from Chicago, that's one of the GREAT things about living in Springfield. Instead of the 6.5 hour ride from LaPlata, MO that I had to take while I was a student at Truman State University, I get to get on a seldom late 3.5 hour train heading straight to Chicago. (Not to mention the props in not having to travel a half hour out of the city you live in to a station in a town some people called Klansville!)

My whole purpose in going home for Labor Day was that my family was supposed to be throwing my cousin and I a graduation party. As soon as I walked in the door on Thursday, I found out that the party had been cancelled. Happy? Ummm, no. As a brand new graduate student, I can tell you that I have a load of things to do (readings, studyings, meetings, NAPS), so I was kinda irked that I came home for nothing.

On Friday, I was supposed go up to Chicago's Northside, and spend the night at my sister's brand new apartment (she is getting her Ph.D in Sociology at UIC), but that fell through after she woke up with a sore throat and was afraid that I'd catch it.

Sidenote: I constantly get the cold or the flu. And the shots don't help me. For all you people who are just entering college or thinking about going, know this, like love, college is a battlefield! Spaces as cramped as dorm halls and campus housing, with that many people crammed into them, are usually known as PROJECTS! So you WILL get sick my deary. Just remember to wash your hands, don't put her hands in your face, and when you see someone cough, RUN the other way screaming bloody murder! Sidenote over.

So, around this time, I was really feeling as if I had just wasted a whole weekend. But thankfully, Saturday came and saved the day!

After a much needed trip to my doctor (don't worry about your girl, I'm fine), I was able to go to the Mexican Fine Arts Center on Chicago's Southwest side to see an exhibit called The African Presence in Mexico: From Yanga To the Present.

I had been wanting to see this exhibit alllllll summer, but never got around to it. I ended up going on September 2, the day before it closed! Yay! The exhibit was incredible. I learned so much about Africans in Mexico, or Afro-Mexicans, the role in Mexican history, their past as a minority, and their current position in Mexico. Yanga was an escaped enslaved African (I don't use the term "slave;" it strips away the identity of the person you're referring to) who fought the Spaniards so well that they eventually caved into him and gave him his own land. Can you believe that? A whole country giving into a person with almost NO power?

They also talked about the stereotypes that Afro-Mexicans (a term that was created in the 1970s) have endured through the years. Looking at some of the pictures of the caricatures, I thought I was looking at pictures of American history. Afro-Mexicans were portrayed in the same primate-like way that African-Americans were. And they, also like African-Americans, have suffered from having many parts of their history systemically erased or looked over in an effort to belittle their contributions to their country.

I don't know if I'll ever have the chance to see another exhibit like that in my life, so I was so glad that I got to see it this weekend.

My little excursion ended on Sunday morning when I took the train back to Springfield. Strangely enough, I was kinda glad to see the Land of Lincoln again. I guess it's grown on me. But nothing, no nothing, will ever replace the Windy City in my heart!

Here's a slideshow for your viewing pleasure.