My second to last day at Little Shop was filled with excitement. The day began with my mother and her book group coming to see the Matinee.
The author of the month was Debra Dickerson. It was quite fitting that the front page of Salon featured a piece written by her. The topic? Black women's sexuality in America.
Sounds kind of selacious, it wasn't at all. That's the problem. Every black woman that I know has experienced one of the things described in the article (read it here). Invisible. That's how I feel at times.
Fast forward a few hours. The moms are gone, and James and I are headed to the clubs.
The evening was filled with desperation. The black men were desperate to catch one of the scores of white girls dancing suggestively while they imbibed. The black women were desperate for any kind of attention. Any at all. What's new.
James and I had a great evening. I even have war wounds to prove it.
Sunday, July 31, 2005
Saturday, July 23, 2005
I'm going to Kentucky and we're going go to the Carnival....
A dream is a wish your heart makes, and The Butterfly has a ton of heart. For the past 3 years she has wanted to come to Kentucky and go to the carnival. This year, Julia finally took her. I went along for the ride eventhough my face was seriously messed up, I wouldn't have missed Deja's return to the carnival for anything.
Click here for photos.
Friday, July 22, 2005
Oh Happy Day!
Today was a great day. I received the best news I've heard in a really long time.
In addition, Rachel Kiwi turned me on to a new puzzle.
Mom, don't follow this link, it will only make you crazy.
In addition, Rachel Kiwi turned me on to a new puzzle.
Mom, don't follow this link, it will only make you crazy.
Thursday, July 14, 2005
But She's Homeless....
Lisa Stansfield is not singing about me anymore.
I am no longer homeless. I will no longer receive strange looks from bouncers and rental car agents wondering how I have a Flordia driver's license with a New York address. In fact my time at rental car counters will be limited as well.
This must be the single woman's nesting phase.
So, Carole, Janelle, Lya, Gwen & Lisa and anyone who's opened their homes during one of my many periods of homelessness: You are welcome to stay in my apartment whenever you like.
Ahhh....A bed, a door, an address.
The American Dream
I am no longer homeless. I will no longer receive strange looks from bouncers and rental car agents wondering how I have a Flordia driver's license with a New York address. In fact my time at rental car counters will be limited as well.
This must be the single woman's nesting phase.
So, Carole, Janelle, Lya, Gwen & Lisa and anyone who's opened their homes during one of my many periods of homelessness: You are welcome to stay in my apartment whenever you like.
Ahhh....A bed, a door, an address.
The American Dream
Wednesday, July 13, 2005
Milwaukee is not that bad
I'll be honest. I was dreading the trip to Milwaukee. However, fate was on my side.
Two major events were in town the second week in July: Summerfest, the country's largest music festival, and the NAACP National Convention.
How did I get so lucky? Every single night there were friendly black people in every restaurant and bar in the city. I even had the chance to pay back a co-worker for an unforgotten uncomfortable racial situation. HA!
The picture is a little blurry,
Two major events were in town the second week in July: Summerfest, the country's largest music festival, and the NAACP National Convention.
How did I get so lucky? Every single night there were friendly black people in every restaurant and bar in the city. I even had the chance to pay back a co-worker for an unforgotten uncomfortable racial situation. HA!
In addition, Fantasia Barrino was performing at Summerfest. I managed to wrestle my way to the 3rd row. Carrie who? Ruben what? Fantasia is the American idol.
The picture is a little blurry,but that's her.
Wednesday, July 06, 2005
July 4th Continued
Gucci wasn't the only reason my 4th of July was special this year.
This year I met a charming young man who was out on the town with his godmother for 4th of July fireworks at the Navy Pier. So in honor Mr. Charles Bredford, I am posting a few of his photographs.
Tuesday, July 05, 2005
Gucci=Independence
Anyone who knows me well, knows that I talk to my mother every single day.
For the past 10 years or so, the July 4th conversation begins with either one of us saying, "What's 4th of July to a slave?!" Of course this is our bastardized version of the Frederick Douglas speech delivered to the Rochester Ladies Anti-Slavery Society.
We usually have a good laugh and talk about all the ways we actually are free.
This year was different. This Monday morning my mother was in the 4th of July spirit. I don't know if it was the fact that The Butterfly was at her house or that one of her best friends was moving into her first house. There were no "slaves weren't celebrating" jokes. In fact, I was in pretty high spirits. Knowing that my life was going to change shortly brought on such glee that I didn't need to make jokes. I wanted to buy new clothes to go with my new attitude. The plan was to meet up with James. The location? Gucci.
During my stay in Chicago, I had a tumultuous relationship with Gucci.
The first time I went into the store I was curious. I went in with Iris and James after seeing some of the company members’ purchases. The store was emotionally overwhelming to me. Beautiful handbags, clothing and shoes, many things emblazoned with signature Gs, however, the thought of paying $800 to be a walking advertisment was very hard for me to wrap my mind around. While browsing, the store went from half empty to full; most of the shoppers were black. There were shoppers who clearly had money; there were also shoppers that I questioned their financial stability. Did these people own houses? Did they have savings? None of my business, but I wondered. I walked into the store with my deflated self-worth and walked out knowing I had saved a down payment for a house and that was more important to me than any designer handbag. I was on my high horse.
So on Independence Day, with renewed confidence knowing that "the call" was behind me, I went into the Gucci Store to talk James out of gross consumption. While I was waiting for him to come to my conclusion (which he did), I spotted a pair of shoes. No way a girl with flat wide feet could get into a pair of Gucci shoes. Right?
By the time I left Gucci, I felt like a million bucks. Have you ever had on a pair of Gucci Shoes? I went from feeling like another nameless overweight black woman to feeling like Naomi Campbell in 2 seconds. What did I do? I bought the shoes.
They were a congratulatory Independence Day present. This July 4th, I came out of the deep self-loathing period I was experiencing. I knew that my life was going to change for the better, and my personal independence from the circumstances that were troubling to me would be behind me in a short time.
Maybe that is what Gucci means to everyone.
For the past 10 years or so, the July 4th conversation begins with either one of us saying, "What's 4th of July to a slave?!" Of course this is our bastardized version of the Frederick Douglas speech delivered to the Rochester Ladies Anti-Slavery Society.
We usually have a good laugh and talk about all the ways we actually are free.
This year was different. This Monday morning my mother was in the 4th of July spirit. I don't know if it was the fact that The Butterfly was at her house or that one of her best friends was moving into her first house. There were no "slaves weren't celebrating" jokes. In fact, I was in pretty high spirits. Knowing that my life was going to change shortly brought on such glee that I didn't need to make jokes. I wanted to buy new clothes to go with my new attitude. The plan was to meet up with James. The location? Gucci.
During my stay in Chicago, I had a tumultuous relationship with Gucci.
The first time I went into the store I was curious. I went in with Iris and James after seeing some of the company members’ purchases. The store was emotionally overwhelming to me. Beautiful handbags, clothing and shoes, many things emblazoned with signature Gs, however, the thought of paying $800 to be a walking advertisment was very hard for me to wrap my mind around. While browsing, the store went from half empty to full; most of the shoppers were black. There were shoppers who clearly had money; there were also shoppers that I questioned their financial stability. Did these people own houses? Did they have savings? None of my business, but I wondered. I walked into the store with my deflated self-worth and walked out knowing I had saved a down payment for a house and that was more important to me than any designer handbag. I was on my high horse.
So on Independence Day, with renewed confidence knowing that "the call" was behind me, I went into the Gucci Store to talk James out of gross consumption. While I was waiting for him to come to my conclusion (which he did), I spotted a pair of shoes. No way a girl with flat wide feet could get into a pair of Gucci shoes. Right?
By the time I left Gucci, I felt like a million bucks. Have you ever had on a pair of Gucci Shoes? I went from feeling like another nameless overweight black woman to feeling like Naomi Campbell in 2 seconds. What did I do? I bought the shoes.
They were a congratulatory Independence Day present. This July 4th, I came out of the deep self-loathing period I was experiencing. I knew that my life was going to change for the better, and my personal independence from the circumstances that were troubling to me would be behind me in a short time.
Maybe that is what Gucci means to everyone.
This is definitely an after picture.
Friday, July 01, 2005
The Angel Butterfly
Here's a picture of The Butterfly. Julia hates the other picture on this page, so I thought I would post this one too.
She's so sweet.
I can't win for losing
There's something so wrong about not posting anything between the picture and the title of the next post.
I'm not trying to imply anything. I just don't want to get in trouble with my mother again.
I'm not trying to imply anything. I just don't want to get in trouble with my mother again.
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