The Kind, the Playful and Eve

I’m closing all of my numerous windows and tabs focused on debate research and global news. Sadly, I find it easier to read about the Israeli moratorium than to write for myself. So without further ado this is what is on my mind:

My favorite song: Talib Kweli – Ms. Hill.

Hip hop/rap is not well known in the white world for being uplifting or encouraging. Much of the cultural narrative says that the rap game is run by angry, greedy, selfish, sexist and filthy-mouthed rappers who have too little talent to sing. Whatever. I love it. My favorite artists either make me weak at the knees with their flow or unveil in their verse the political, economic and social realities that do not otherwise have a platform. I will admit an obsession with Kanye because I’m inexplicably attracted to his ego and melody. I would liken it to GDS (Good Debater Syndrome).

Ms. Hill is moving because in it Talib is honestly speaking to a groundbreaking female artist who stands as one of the most powerful examples for young black women. He recounts Lauryn Hill’s history (the good and the bad) in a respectful and encouraging way. He does not talk down to her or pretend to understand what she’s going through as a black female artist. Additionally, Talib makes it very clear that his intention is to offer support to a fellow artist who is beautifully powerful all by herself. The attention to her accomplishments and strength brought me to tears the first dozen times I listened to the song. I recognize that being a white woman makes me an outsider looking in on this exchange but I do appreciate the love in it. It is a powerful kindness.

Debate

I watched part of my second policy round today. The students were practicing against each other to try out the arguments before the first tournament. These were probably four of the most dedicated policy students we have. Although I could understand only one of them (Policy is friggin fast) there was an undeniable air of aggression in the room. It was most apparent during the Cross Ex. While there are always rounds in Worlds where speakers spew venom from across the table, I feel like the speed and loud volume in policy more easily lend themselves to antagonism. There is also (as far as I know) little check against that approach because to judges manner is not as massively important as matter.

Today’s round has me wondering what kind of a playground Policy allows for. I think that Worlds is a pretty good form because it can serve as a playground for ideas. Speakers can try out the same old equipment in dozens of different ways to learn its nature. Picture the monkey bars, for example. Playing on the monkey bars could be like getting to know Social Contract Theories or Feminist Theories by deploying them in different ways.  They can explore their physical relationship to it. “This Feminist perspective can play out like so against Capitalism but how do I feel about that?” Most importantly debaters on the playground can come to understand their own bodies better – independent of the equipment by, for example, testing gravity’s pull when they jump from the top. “Am I a Feminist? What does that mean in my everyday?” Perhaps the analogy needs work. However I think that there are checks in Worlds to try to ensure that the arena is a safe place to “unsafely” discover. Does Policy allow for the same?

A low moment today

I read:

More Congolese women raped

Story buried deep.

The number. Huge.

I thought:

I fail.

We talk. Debate game.

But DO nothing.

My goal was:

Debate for Eve.

She’s still so vulnerable.

And invisible.

Reflections of just me.

Listening to CunninLynguists “Love Ain’t”

This is for the moment.

It’s just me. I’ve made some decisions I didn’t really expect to make. Even though I think they were good decisions for me, I am now painfully aware of how alone I have left myself. The move upstate will be a lonely one. My sister is in Alaska for the next few days and I worked all day to return to a silent, unpeopled apartment. It’s all my time, to me, for me. And I kind of hate it… even more I despise that I hate it. Can’t even sit in my room listening to the hum of the AC. I had to put headphones on and now Bone Thugs-N-Harmony is playing. On the way home after closing at the store an intense feeling of discomfort struck me because I just really don’t know what I want or what I’m doing right now. I don’t know the first thing about making myself happy independent of the men around me. My thoughts are a jumbled mess of insane contradictions.

Oh wow. Fabolous “You Make Me Better” is playing. This song helped pick at the questions I had a few weeks ago cuz I just didn’t know if it was true on either side.

I just hate what I let happen and how I let people shape me and place me in the world.

While I was tryin’ to generate interest in the Barnes and Noble nook today, I was randomly sideswept by the memory of an older male customer several weeks ago. He took a few quick breathes before approaching the counter to let me know that he knew exactly why they put me upfront to sell the nook. The man would barely look me in the eye and was ridiculously “cautious” about my body while calling a debilitating amount of attention to it. And I let him. Trying to ignore the awkwardness he was causing, I tried to do my job. (Ironic. Biggie “Big Poppa”) He stole from my personhood with every awkwardly “respectful” compliment to my looks. Who am I that I would let that go? Now, Reader, it isn’t that I regret remaining calm. I regret that I was silent.

So many times I bit my lip and more of me died because that was kindness and that was investment. Why do I always apologize first and THEN ask what I did wrong? I’m humiliated by how I groveled for the approval of someone else’s father when he never respected me unless it behooved him to give that impression. He seemed to appreciate every other organism in his son’s life except the one that was dying for the acceptance. And I feel like I cheated my politics for so seriously considering a name change. Bellwood is mine. I love my family. They made me! Wouldn’t I look like such a contradiction to my daughter? (Eminem “Talkin’ 2 Myself”)

All of the above thoughts and decisions were mine. Nobody coerced or even pressured me. My current discomfort with so many shows how little I reflected. I never purposely spent time with myself to consider Alia. Gotta have that Other. (Ja Rule “Always On Time”)

Well now I don’t have him. I’m stepping out to make sure Alia means something to me. Something to the child I have someday. I want him or her to love and respect Mom. (Tupac “Changes) It’s just so damn uncomfortable. This silent room lays it all embarrassingly bare.

B.o.B. “Airplanes”

I really enjoyed my coworkers today. They made my very long day beautiful. John made me giggle all day with his fatherly grumpiness. Jacquie made me laugh like I haven’t laughed in the longest time each time she filled the closed store with a loud and terribly tone deaf 5 second “Roooooxaaaaannnnneeee!” And Roberto is so dedicated to books it makes him walk like a poem.

It isn’t really ever just me.

The Reflections of a Wet Sewer Rat

Dear Readers and Self,

This is a freewrite so please do not be bothered by the lack of structure and/or relevancy.

I spent a very nice evening with a great friend discussing dreams, grad school, Napoleon, and whatever else came to mind. Beer and coffee, talk and turkey burgers with a truly great friend. My walk home was a mite less pleasant. Twenty minutes walking in a summer downpour! It’s ironic that one topic over coffee had been my desire to start swimming again. Blasted big mouth of mine. My sandaled feet splashed through disgusting NYC street run-off water and I had nothing to cover me. If I possessed ESP (like Vincent) then I might have heard passing (dry) drivers in their fast cars wonder if I was an oversized (albeit colorful) sewer rat. Thank Goddess that my tank top was blue and my skirt grey!

This is what my Pandora played for me while I swam:

• Mos Def – Do It Now
• Lil Wayne – Lollipop
• Jay-Z – Dirt Off Your Shoulder
• Heiruspecs – Heartsprings
• Alicia Keys – If I Ain’t Got You
• Kanye West – Get Em High

While part of my mind enjoyed the sounds, another part remembered the rain back home. Today I missed it terribly! Getting caught in the rain in Oregon is inexpressibly refreshing. It’s cooler than New York City and so much cleaner. The rain feels good to the touch. I can’t really describe it. Maybe it feels softer or kinder or friendly. Memories echo with familiar laughter while we run for cover. I remember the scent of wet pavement, damp soil and soaked wind. Can’t forget the pine trees! That’s the smell of home and it’s a blessed thing to breathe. The sky becomes grey and the spectrum of greens darkens a bit but it’s vibrant still! I do miss that rain.

Still, I won’t be ungrateful. I have felt burdened to write but blocked from doing it well. This brutish downpour emboldened me to just put something together. It is good to write even if it is not masterful.

I read this blog entry today that I intend to take to heart. She has vowed to reposition the hater in her head as not just against her but against all women:

“I’m going to consciously banish that creepy, self-hating voice from my head and ask myself each time I want to succumb to it’s[sic] lull if I would say to a fellow woman such awful things.”

I got to practice this idea moments after marveling over it.

My first reaction: “Wow, what a phenomenal way to think about it! How simple but true!”

Second: “Alia, you’re so stupid for not having considered it like this before! How could you be so small-minded!”

Third: “Wait a second here…”

I thank Shelby Knox. Pandora. My great friend. Rain. And the Goddess.

Dis-covering Hu-man

Dear HC friend,

We conversed a few days ago on a topic that fascinates us each: music. After sharing my perspective on some songs and artists, you commented that I seem to talk a lot about feminism. I take it hard[core] but that I shouldn’t base my life on just that. You suggested that I could just be human. Your words shook me. Not because I felt that you were malicious or unkind. I am pretty sure that I accurately read a friendly tone of concern especially because you spoke from your own experience. What affected me so deeply was (1) the disconnect between your world and mine and (2) the difficulty of explaining myself to you. I was struck by a feeling that explaining my positionality and worldview to you might be impossible.

I had no response for you that night, dear friend. But I have one now. Please, hear me out.

Human. Hu-man. I don’t know what it means to be just human. I don’t understand what the neutral qualities are that men, women, children, Latinas, Japanese, the poor, the deaf, the extroverted and the white, middle-class college girl share. So to “be human” is problematic for me. Cultural norms dictate behavior that’s not inherent to being human. Gender roles are just a part of that but for women, especially, it is a huge part of it.

As I identify primarily as a woman, I am concerned with how women/I are/am constructed/defined as. And because I have been, for so long, constructed/defined in relation to men – as what he is not (Simone de Beauvoir) – I am not sure I trust what I have been told to believe about being human. I am especially critical of what to believe about how I should fulfill “humanness” in my female body.

It follows then that I examine when I am talked about. I read song lyrics, advertisements, social conventions and more to deconstruct the multiplicity of meanings that may be imbedded. I hold that language is powerfully disciplining and forming and we must be vigilant in critically examining it. (we can talk later, if you like, about why I think this) As music is ideologically loaded, I think that the amount of feminism I brought up during our exchange was reasonable.

You might ask me to kindly shy away from that F word, but understand that you are simultaneously asking my to shy away from myself. I am unlikely to say very much if you do not encourage me to speak freely from my world to yours – across and in spite of the distance.

Our exchange was very valuable to me. I love the music you sent me.

With Thanks,

Alia

What were those lyrics again?

How cute is this? This kid isn’t all that different from most of us who listen to music. I was listening to a Nas song that was beating up Jay-Z and stupidly asked my boyfriend if it was supposed to be mean or something like that. I hadn’t been paying attention to the words. He sent me the silliest look.

Nas in Y’all My Niggas talks about the importance of understanding the words we use. While I think Nas has a fantastic point about the power of words independent of what we mean by them – I can’t help but think that this kid is having a little bit of fun. Hell, I had fun listening to/watching him. (He’s going on my Christmas list, fo sho.)

In the end, I feel less critical of myself and others who pull a “is this supposed to be mean” when they’re listening to Ether because it’s not possible to be On all the time. Even if it were, it’s probably not desirable.

BEP and PR – Anxiety

How awesome is Black Eyed Peas?

- The group that boasts they rock it without bodyguards (“Hey Mama”)

- Also well known for their social critic in “Where is the Love” and “Gone Going” which are gorgeous AND awesome collaborations with other artists for a higher calling than to blame promiscuity on alcohol

- Fantastic encouragement to enjoy yourself through dance and music – no matter who’s looking

- Awesome recognition of the mixture of struggles that individuals (“Fly Away”) and society face and the necessity to make happiness happen (like, every dance song)

Great, right?

My favorite song is this one: Black Eyed Peas feat. Papa Roach – Anxiety

Why?

I don’t care about the authenticity that Black Eyed Peas may lack in LA or inner city hip hop culture. This song recognizes and then explains that the real constraint on one’s potential is yourself. It denotes the violence felt (“terrorizing my soul”) by those intimidated by the what-ifs and maybes of failure. The anxiety tears you apart. Is this consistent with the theory of cool? The singers are mostly calm. They are collected about what is what. Harmony and melody… gorgeous! Enemy named. Harms Recognized. The whole “can’t give up” exclamation. Solution: “Gots to find my inner wealth.” They’re cool to me. And street cred? Authenticity? Does it matter that they aren’t talking about hustling? Or bullet wounds? Or betrayal? No. Can’t name a person who doesn’t battle themselves. Can’t name a time when this song didn’t empower me.

Lyrics:

I feel like I wanna smack somebody
Turn around and bitch slap somebody
But I ain’t goin’ out bro (no, no, no)
I ain’t givin’ into it (no, no, no)
Anxieties bash my mind in
Terrorizing my soul like Bin Laden
But I ain’t fallin’ down bro (no, no, no)
I won’t lose control bro (no, no, no)
Shackle and chained
My soul feels stained
I can’t explain got an ich on my brain
Lately my whole aim is to maintain
And regain control of my mainframe
My bloods boiling its beatin’ out propaine
My train of thoughts more like a runaway train
I’m in a fast car drivin’ in a fast lane
In the rain and I’m might just hydroplaine

Chorus:

I don’t fear none of my enemies
And I don’t fear bullets from oozies
I’ve been dealing with something thats worse than these
That’ll make you fall to your knees and thats the
The anxiety the sane and the insane rivalry
Paranoias brought me to my knees
Lord please please please
Take away my anxiety
The sane and the insane rivalry
Paranoias brought me to my knees
Lord please please please
Take away my anxiety

My head keeps running away my brother
The only thing making me stay my brother
But I won’t give into it bro (no, no, no)
Gotta get myself back now
God, I can’t let my mind be
Tell my enemy is my own
Gots to find my inner wealth
Gots to hold up my thoughts
I can’t get caught (no, no, no)
I can’t give into it now (no, no, no)
Emotions are trapped set on lock
Got my brain stuck goin through the motions
Only I know what’s up
I’m filled up with pain
Tryin’ to gain my sanity
Everywhere I turn its a dead end in front of me
With nowhere to go gotta shake this anxiety
Got me feelin’ strange paranoia took over me
And its weighin’ me down
And I can’t run any longer, yo
Knees to the ground