Scent of Strange Fruit

Chocolate Pie, Homeschool, Adams Apples, Midnight, The Nigger Factory...

2011-12-27T22:57:00.000-08:00

I've been out of school for about two weeks, and it only dawned on me today that I have not done all of the things on the list I posted earlier. In just few short weeks my schedule will be crazier than it was last semester. I will be teaching grown folks and children, learning and teaching, reading and reading to, planning an academic schedule and adhering to one. I guess it is not completely true that I have not done anything. We, my co-op sisters and I, all met with a veteran homeschool mother last week. She had a lot to offer as far as experience goes. One of my fellow sisters managed to travel and meet with other homeschoolers and was able to gain insight to the triumphs and pitfalls that would accompany our noble feat. The notes she gathered on her visits should prove to be priceless. We put together a calendaring system, found a few desks, got a promising lead on some tables, and accumulated some pretty good supplies. Too, I have managed to get the books and curriculum together for my kinder, 2nd, and 4th grade students; and I'm also halfway done transforming my formal dining area into my classroom. Phew, I'm tired.

As far as publishing No Visible Seeds goes, I wrote out the 12th and 13th chapters last night, talked to my editor last week, and feel pretty good about what my creative skillets are cooking up with this one.

Got a bunch of Nollywood research done. In fact, I was finally able to purchase Shirley Frimpong-Manso's first few chapters of Adams Apples. Note: This is actually a Ghanaian film. I found a lot of themes and plugs that point to ideals of beauty that seem a bit forced. Don't get me wrong, I'm hooked on the series. I love it! Still, in so many ways, I am reminded of the straight-hair, light-skin ads I see on so many of the African internet channels. Still, I urge you all to check it out. This series is hot! The first few chapters are available on Amazon. Also, Frimpong-Manso's films can be viewed on Youtube or Amazon as well. Good stuff. Artistry in Africa.

I baked my nieces' fudge brownies, but they were all gone by the time I saw those beautiful girls. I baked some type of chocolate pie last night and surprisingly, it turned out well.

I've read about five books over the past two weeks. Still trying to decide what I liked/didn't like about Sister Souljah's Midnight. Currently reading The Nigger Factory by Gil Scott-Heron. On this, we shall see.

Home life is important too. Hubby and I took notes from The MommyWife's favorite things and created coupon books for each other (even though we don't observe Christmas). Boy were those books hot and heavy. We had fun creating the books, but we also got to show off how much we know about one another. I think exercises like that can only strengthen our relationship. Thanks, J. Merc.

The kids are amazing and growing and making me cry. They are people with lives and dreams and prayers and that makes me smile. Yah trusts me with this. Yah trust ME with this. This was their first Christmas with the truth--the first year that they viewed the Christmas tree as a phallus and the wreath as a womb and sweet baby Jesus as Nimrod, a mighty hunter before Elohim. They stuck to it and through it and I love them for that. They love Yah and Yahshua more than fossilized customs. They are great. They are standing. They are coming out of her.

In two more weeks my list will be done. I know I can; I will; I have to.

Until then, scratching it off one item at a time.

Finalize home school environment and curriculum
~~Create syllabus~~
~~Get the Africa jar up and going~~
Talk to Teni about Nigeria for December 2012
Plan Fulbright approach
~~Finalize fall schedule~~ (I think)
Prewrite short stories for Reynolds and plan a script for Zisman
Read the books on Smith's and Rankin's syllabi
Re-read ~~Fossilized Custom~~s, Mystery Babylon Revealed, and the book of ~~Daniel~~
~~Clean up my office space~~
Outline the rest of this novel (or just write it)
~~Talk to my editor~~
~~Research via Nollywood, black lit., and black film~~
Bake fudge brownies for Bear and Shmorgs
Talk to Susan about how we shall travel to AWP
Blog...at least twice

LSW

Semester's End

2011-12-14T11:15:00.000-08:00

Tis' the season of free time para me. Fellow grad students, please insert your own definition of "free time" as it is not the traditional idea of "free time" by any stretch of the imagination. I have a long list of things to do, so I thought I'd store them here.

Finalize home school environment and curriculum
Create syllabus
Get the Africa jar up and going
Talk to Teni about Nigeria for December 2012
Plan Fulbright approach
Finalize fall schedule
Prewrite short stories for Reynolds and plan a script for Zisman
Read the books on Smith's and Rankin's syllabi
Re-read Fossilized Customs, Mystery Babylon Revealed, and the book of Daniel
Clean up my office space
Outline the rest of this novel (or just write it)
Talk to my editor
Research via Nollywood, black lit., and black film
Bake fudge brownies for Bear and Shmorgs
Talk to Susan about how we shall travel to AWP
Blog...at least twice

For the purposes of this list, I have included the most crucial items to address over my month-long break. My hopes are to scratch off at least four items. I set the bar high because that's what it takes for me to reach up and grab at it. On to the first item on the list...

LSW

Just Want to Tell the Truth

2011-10-06T08:18:00.000-07:00

Whom the Son sets Free is Free indeed

Some black men, not all of them, have become so accustomed to suffering in America—on earth—that they have come to accept the role as the oppressed, or more so, to expect to play this role. We should aim to raise a black man who will not accept or expect this role with complacency or grasp on to the victimization it entails. History and Truth should serve as a guide to uplift; however, what are we to do when ears flap down to the Truth and the souls of black folk embrace fossilized lies? If repetition is the mother of knowledge, we repeat.

In the beginning, Yahweh created the heavens and the earth. Somewhere along these lines, we stopped digging for ourselves and began to embrace the truths thrown (with plenty of spit) across the meager (later vast) pulpits given to us by Anglo-Saxons (Angle-Saxons). These gifts, Christianity and the responsibility to teach the religion to the rest of our heathen kind (the constructed black race) came with a price. Of course, many of us know what happened after the beginning—after Yahweh created the heavens and earth; Lucifer let pride overtake him; he fell; created chaos on earth; and Yahweh shut the lights out and flooded this bad boy, right? See Genesis 1:1-2. Still, some of us do not know this. The world has drawn a lie so fine that we miss this, and if this is so, we should travel back to the beginning, Genesis 1, to untangle it. We are so deep in the truth that knowledge—acceptance of the knowledge of this truth is sure to incite uplift.

My son is a footballer. He has always loved the sport. At fourteen, he is catching up, in size, with the boys in his age group. But before now, he was a small kid. Still, he has always been placed in defensive positions. Always. He's small, but hits hard—on the field anyway. Still, he's a fast little dude and has always desired to run the ball. Last year, I noticed a decline in his enthusiasm as far as the game was concerned. He ran into trouble in school. Teachers thought that "new math" was proving a little too difficult for my guy to catch onto. He was lackadaisical about his studies and showed no enthusiasm in the classroom. I related to my son. Perhaps, they suggested, we should have him tested and placed in a special program because "he just doesn't have what it takes to keep up with his grade level. Yes, his reading is fine. He has the ability, Ms. Watkins. He just needs a little help. There are special accommodations we can give to ensure that he passes—on his own level, ma'am." Basically, let us give him a crutch (which will turn to a wheelchair, then a bed, which can fit in a nice prison pod or cell) and allow him to pass without learning jack. Let us show him why he's the unteachable black male.

Middle school, in a predominately white school, is where I learned that I didn't exist. I wanted him to know that he has always been here—not just Dr. King and Obama—that he has always been here. I placed Fredrick Douglass's narrative in his hands. My family began to teach him about Abraham and Moses and Yahshua. When he went back to school this year, he said, "They don't have to show me, me in their books. I know I'm there." He approaches his studies searching for Truth about himself and his creator. He is excited… enough (if you know my son you know this is difficult to visualize. Picture Droopy Dog as excited). The Truth—the little he has so far—has set him free from the mental prison that his society was attempting to create for him. I watched my baby play football Tuesday night. He was on the field seventy-five percent of the time, ran the ball for the first time ever—twice in one game (made it all the way to the end zone before fumbling it), gave some hard hits, and even practiced superb teamwork. This was the second game this season where I watched my son show out. I heard those words again. This time they said, "They don't have to let me see myself as good footballer—running-back either. I know myself. I know I can be there. They don't need to tell me what I can do."

I feel it important to note here that his success in the game is not what excites me; it's his confidence—confidence that he has gained from a simple (yet complicated) Truth. I asked my son—all of my children last night: What does your savior look like? My son looked down at his arms and rubbed his hand across the chocolate smoothness of them and smiled wide. "Yahshua looks like me!" He sees himself where he has been erased. And the Truth shall set you free.

In The Mis-Education of the Negro, Carter G. Woodson says, "When you control a man's thinking you don't have to worry about his actions. You do not have to tell him not to stand here or go yonder. He will find his "proper place" and will stay in it. You do not need to send him to the back door. He will go without being told. In fact, if there is no back door, he will cut one for his special benefit. His education makes it necessary." In the words of a faithful messenger, "I'm not being ugly; I'm being real." If we live in a world where women and children are in constant danger, abuse of the earth is rampant, and dismissal of a creator and creative period is cool and acceptable, what makes you think you have not been lied to? I will keep repeating the Truth to my children because they swim deep in lies each time they go out in the world. As humans—not just black or white—but as humans, we should arm ourselves with the Truth in order that we can combat the plentiful lies. What is the Truth? A whole 'nother talk. I'd say refer to some of the oldest texts and stories in the world (try going back to 13th century BC; can't be afraid to pick up a book). Breaking the cycle of ignorance is imperative. Do old men not want their sons—young fathers—to be wiser and live better lives than them? Do young fathers not desire the same? The most important Truth that any man or woman can discover is the answer to the question: Why are we here? Prescription: Keep repeating these words: The Truth shall set me free.

LSW

Out for Research

2011-09-25T20:50:00.000-07:00

I thought I'd stop by to say I've been out (will probably be until December) for research. My workload is tough. I'm teaching, learning, writing, and managing familial relationships (as well as mine with Elohim), so I have had very little time to report a whole lot of information. Still, I thought I'd let you know that:

I was nominated for an award at the African American Literary Award Show this year
I was published in Specter Magazine in September
I should be releasing a book with PITS sometime soon

Also, I am not blogging myself right now, but my husband has launched a blog on eating according to the Bible. Visit Eating the Whole Truth to find out more.

Still journeying

LSW

On Being Black and Beautiful...

2011-08-16T23:10:00.000-07:00

This post comes with much provocation. I am ashamed, appalled, and apologetic. Not because of something that I have personally done, but because of racism that I have witnessed and ignored (or not spoken up about). Today I speak up.

A late entry to my summer reading list was Beverly Parhurst Moss's Dark Exodus: The Lost Girls of Sudan. I'd never heard of the book before running across the title during my weekly browse on Half Price's clearance row. It was a dollar—only a dollar and of the seven other treasures I stumbled upon that day, this was the best find.

Moss pushes her "God loves America and the rest of the world should too, especially the poor black folks," message quite heavily in each section, but the interviews with the sixteen women—sixteen survivors of the ongoing civil war in Sudan (which is in no way without Western influence) are breathtaking. Almost all of the women, whose photos accompany their stories, trekked through the desert without clothes, food, and water. All of the women had lost family, seen others attacked by lions, hyenas, and Janjaweed demons. Some talk about surviving by drinking their urine or the urine of refugees willing to share, running on blistered feet, and eating bark from trees or grass. None of them could quite understand or explain how or why they survived, and all found refugee in my home state—Texas.

With all the things these sisters suffered, they all mentioned the persecution they felt and heard under the gaze of African-Americans. Some said they had never been ashamed of their skin tones until they came here. Those who came over and attended high school recalled taunting by blacks because of their dark skin tones. When did the American reject become so high and mighty? When did the rejected become rejecter?

I'll tell you when. When we became wrapped up and entangled in American patriarchy and ideals of beauty. When we hated ourselves with the same hate slave holders and Jim Crow hated us with. When we bought that dark is dumb and ugly. It makes me sad that we don't understand how deep our history is—how rich it is—how Yah it is. I can't blame us…completely. The hiding of the truth is deep, but I see the piling of customs on top of other ugly customs. We should really embrace the authentic us, and We don't get more authentic than Africa. When we learn to connect our African-ness to our American-ness, and be proud of whom we are and where we came from, then shall we know true beauty.

The question of beauty has gone unanswered in a worldly sense. However, western ideals of beauty have inspired some to create their own definitions. See my post Who You Calling Ugly? The Bible speaks of beauty. See Psalms 139:14 (the image of Yah, which is his works, ways, and knowing and keeping them), Samuel 16:7 (Yah looks at the heart; not the nose or the skin), and Timothy 4:8 (spiritual exercise).

Perhaps, black beauty has been decided by the unblack, and because blacks have been influenced more by the deciders of beauty, We (black Americans) are not even viewing ourselves through the eyes of blacks. It is important that we realize that bleaching creams and expensive hair weaves aren't necessarily true beauty. If Yah measures beauty from the hearts of men, smiles instead of snickers at those sisters that had come a long way from a long mess would have been the most beautiful thing in the world. There's still pain all over the world. It’s not too late to be beautiful.

Note: Though the author clearly has an agenda, which was to spin white America as the angelic savior, I recommend this book as a way to gain insight to the struggle in Sudan.

LSW

Who's Watching the Gate?

2011-06-22T22:58:00.000-07:00

I admit… this is almost becoming my own personal Nollywood blog. Hey, what can I say? This is where I am in my research efforts.

Anyway, I noticed two interesting character types this week: the gateman and the first wife. For my MA thesis I wrote a paper about stereotypes in African American literature, so quite naturally, one of the goals for my overall graduate studies grew into comparing and contrasting African stereotypes to African American stereotypes. Moreover, I would like to determine influences of stereotypes from each group.

There is no gateman type in African American literature or film, but this is a common character in African literature and film. Nigerian writer Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie mentions this type in her novels and a high percentage of the Nollywood films employ this type as well. In most cases, gatemen are service workers who are often treated as children. They are loyal to a fault, ridiculed to a point of being called stupid, and often the recipients of misguided anger and evil. I have even seen gatemen in films hit and slapped by visitors and employers. However, gatemen have a subtle power. Because they are often poor workers from villages, their employers think they lack the intelligence to understand the schemes and plots that seem to be part of all Nollywood films. They hide little from them. In fact, they treat them as furniture. They bring lovers (from affairs) through the gates right before the eyes of gatemen, as well, they make other sneaky little gestures that indicate trust in secrecy from these men or awareness that not keeping quiet means getting fired. In one film, a sad film, the gateman was comic relief. He protected and guarded the gate, but his actions and responses to the abuse from his employer were funny. For example, the wife was keeping a secret from her husband and a lover from her past came home with her spouse as a business partner. Since the gateman had met him, when he knocked on the gate later (when the woman's husband was away) he was granted entry. The woman later scolded the gateman and told him to never allow the man entry again, but when the ex-lover reported this to the husband (his business partner) he came home enraged. The woman told her husband (in front of the gateman) that the gateman was stupid and misheard her words. She told him that she had instructed the gateman to let the man in any time he came. The gateman made a "whatchu talkin' bout Willis" face, but willingly took the lie as a mistake of his own.

While the gateman is the often subjected to abuse and humiliation, he knows everything that goes on inside the gate (which by the way is always comprised of tall stucco walls with an equally tall steel or metal door that disables anyone from the street from getting an actual view of the dwelling; I will discuss this more in a different post). He is sometimes a sly advisor. I have seen gatemen give advice to their employers without their employers knowing that they have received advice from someone they see as beneath them in status. In many cases, gatemen are responsible for saving the protagonist from doom because they are always aware of the sinister plots and plans.

The gateman appears to be a mere opener and closer of the gate, but like the mammy, buck, and welfare mother, he is so much more.

Since I've spent so much time and space on the gateman tonight, I will save the first wife for later. Until then, I leave you with this question: Who's watching your gate?

Note: I realize the Nigeria I am watching is fictional. I am aware that Nollywood is mostly comprised of Igbo affluent who have a tendency to cast Igbo people as the rich political giants and business millionaires as well as the hausa-speaking gatemen to keep with the true events as seen on the street socially and historically. I realize that they are actors acting, and like our own Hollywood, there is more to the casting of these stereotypes politically.

Nollywood Themes Are Deep Like Rivers

2011-06-09T22:51:00.000-07:00

Last night I watched an African movie titled Total Love. The tale had a pretty good premise (despite a few developmental hang-ups). An ex-military general's only child thinks she's deeply in love with a handsome African man residing in Canada. Daddy (Olu Jacobs) hasn't completely let go of his military ways, so he invites his daughter's cutie (Van Vicker) to their luxurious compound in Nigeria and commences to torturing the poor guy… military style. Daughter gets fed up and fakes her own disappearance. Daddy and cutie bond, daughter shows back up, and the rest, as they say, is history. If you've ever seen a Nolly or Gollywood film, you know their split—split in two parts to be exact. The summary I just gave is from disc one. The father tells his daughter, Louisa (Jackie Appiah), that the man she loves is not right because he does not possess the heart of a soldier. He explains that she needs a man who can protect her, provide for her, and create strategies to maneuver around his own feelings to accommodate hers.

I thought the old man's argument was quite developed when I finished watching disc 2, which featured the father shedding his soldier mentality and falling for a twenty-four-year-old woman (Tonto Dikeh) who only meant to use him for his healthy bank account. Louisa returns home when her father calls and tells her that he is about to marry the woman, and hires an investigator to trail the woman to find out what she is all about. She digs up dirt and tells her father, who forgives the woman without knowing her crime. In the meantime, Louisa's husband is in Canada cheating because he feels abandoned and lonely (his words). Her father ends up begging his son-in-law's forgiveness, but only after admitting that the soldier's heart he spoke of in part one is hogwash.

But there was something of substance in his disc 1 speech. If you look past the patriarchy and stereotypical hogwash of the role he was impressing on her husband-to-be, he was speaking to the heart of marriage, love, and friendship, right? As partners or friends or lovers should we not protect our mates at all costs? Give what we have to make them happy? And not put our own selfish feelings ahead of theirs? The daughter's husband cheated because he couldn't get past his own selfishness. He hurt her deeply (her words) and ended up on his knees begging her forgiveness. She exhibited the heart of a soldier by looking past her own pain, but she did something else when she gave him another chance. A soldier does not always act out of love, but moreso, out of obligation or duty. She didn't give her cheating cutie another chance out of duty, but out of love, right?

The father, on the other hand, shed his soldier stubbornness and allowed room for compassion and forgiveness. This made him easier to love, but he was still stern with his orders. When he learned the young girl had been deceiving him he told her that she did not have to. He had given his heart freely and anything he had was hers. "Whatever you are doing," he said with tears in his eyes. "Stop. Just stop it now." And she did. I must say that Olu Jacobs is a very strong voice and image on screen. I have seen him in several Nollywood films and I would equate him to Hollywood's James Earl Jones or Forest Whitaker. He commands attention and respect, and portrays a soldier easy.

In any case, I think he was onto something in that soldier's heart speech. While those aspects he listed are important, which was proved when his daughter's husband, who possessed none, cheated, more than just a soldier's characteristics are needed. Olu Jacobs' character proved this by only being loveable after shedding some of that soldier stuff. I think a more developed and complete ending to the tale would have been one where Jacobs reissued characteristics of a couple's heart to his daughter. I walked away with the message that the heart of a relationship is entwined and one, but I'm not sure that it was the one that the director meant for me to gain. A lot of these movies end with fluffy happiness. I'll admit that it's refreshing considering all the mess we get from reality TV and Hollywood films. But these films have such powerful messages that I think they would get more recognition if those messages were explored.

In any case, the heart of soldier is an idea that resonates with me. I'm not sure what type of a heart one should aim for in a mate, but it must be one that blends well with their own. My husband has the heart of a businessman and I have that of an artist. We balance out, I suppose. I don't think I'd do well with another artist. We're crazy.

Who You Calling Ugly?

2011-06-02T20:49:00.000-07:00

Why Psychology Today thought it was okay to let Satoshi Kanazawa post/publish "Why Are Black Women Less Physically Attractive than Other Women" is beyond me, but I'm glad they did. This proves that I am not just paranoid or picking when I say that black women are sometimes viewed differently because of stigmas impressed upon us by western civilization, history, and skewed perceptions of womanhood. In some cases, black women are not seen as beautiful just like women from any other race, but this has nothing to do with what truly is or isn't beautiful. This is a matter of the media and subliminal messaging. I hate to take it here; but after waiting forever for a black Disney princess, little black princesses were met with a black servant who was only able to be more than a servant by yielding her will over to whites.

Such poppycock! In a world that sends subliminal messages of black is NOT beautiful and black femaleness is worth even less how can people be expected to appreciate the beauty of black women. This is what I was referring to in my previous post, "Translating Beauty." Graphs, polls, statistics, and studies cannot gauge beauty. This is impossible. Beauty has been funneled and translated to a point where we think animal fat and silicon makes us look better than we did when we came here. My fellow blogger, Javetta Mercadel, once said beauty looks a lot like love. How does one quantify that in numbers and graphs and place it in an essay?

The most important and correct statement Mr. Kanazawa makes in the article is that "There are many biological and genetic differences between the races. However, such race differences usually exist in equal measure for both men and women. For example, because they have existed much longer in human evolutionary history, Africans have more mutations in their genomes than other races." Yet, he misses it. What does the fact that Africans have existed longer in human evolutionary history mean? That would have been an extremely interesting discussion. Instead, he goes on about how these mutations decrease physical attractiveness. But whose perception of physical attractiveness is commenting on? While some think injecting extra fat into their lips is attractive, Fulani peoples of West Africa tattoo and dye their mouths and lips as symbols of beauty. Can we judge either as beautiful to the people practicing those traditions? Nope. We see beauty through our own eyes, right?

In his recent research of Afro-Brazilians, Henry Louis Gates, Jr. found that most Brazilians (even those who consider themselves Anglo in descent) have at least some African ancestry. Compared to the traditional three categories of race in America, Gates says that Brazil has 136 kinds of blackness. Gates argues that while one drop of African ancestry makes you black in America, one drop of white ancestry makes you white in Brazil. Like Gates, I find this fascinating. The claim of whiteness can make life better—easier, but this is not what signifies beauty. This signifies effective messaging.

Slavery, lynchings, and other forms of oppression have contributed to the ugliness associated with blackness. Mammy, Jezebel, and Sapphire have helped shape the ugly. The mammy figure was impressed upon black women as a way to justify and explain the complicity of the black female as a good and happy servant or slave. Have you ever seen Aunt Jemima? Is there anything externally beautiful (per what we are taught to believe beauty is) about her? No. She was created asexual (unattractive). Like Mammy, Jezebel and Sapphire were created as devices to box black women into specific roles. Ugly and evil roles. (Note: Black writers, critics, and artists are redefining these stereotypes, but there is/was an agenda behind the original forms)

I could go on about this all day, but I won't. I have a fifth grade graduation to attend (beautiful little black girls). I will say that a friend asked me a few months ago, "Why do black women get so angry when they see black men with non-black women?" I must admit, some of us are ignorant, but some have a problem with black men who specifically avoid dating/relationships with black women. Mr. Kanazawa points out in his post that black men can compete on his silly scales and studies of beauty. After sticking by black men through years of oppression, black women feel slighted when they are deliberately and permanently benched. Some grow frustrated when brothers say, "I want me a white girl" (Asian, Indian, etc.). Love is love and it has no race, so why stipulate it with that limit? That becomes betrayal...self-hate if you will. If you can't see my beauty, you can't see your own.

Black women love themselves and see their own beauty. The strength, struggle, and sacrifice of their beings are things worth marveling over (I'd say). The photos below are of women whose journeys (from the distance of my view) are beautiful to me. If polled, others might not agree. **shoulder shrug** Beauty is not concrete. It has been crushed, melted, translated, and spoon-fed to us all by the media. *warning--cliché ahead* Beauty truly is in the eye of the beholder. Black women--black people are beautiful... in my eyes.

Alek Wek-model

Ini Edo-actress

Cicely Tyson-actress

Mercy Johnson-actress

Research Roadblocks

2011-05-31T21:18:00.000-07:00

The first few weeks of my summer (= before the kids get out for theirs) were supposed to consist of mass reading/research. I was able to begin The History of White People by Nell Irvin Painter, but Ar'nt I a Woman? by Deborah Gray White, the wonderful essays in African American Literary Theory (edited by Winston Napier), and Middle Passages by James T. Campbell are all sitting in stack under my desk.

But oh joy, I am a wife and mother, which means I must always be prepared for detours. I guess it all began when our dryer went out last weekend, then the fence fell down, and the dogs got fleas, and raccoons decided to tear holes in the roof. The expenses from these catastrophes plus summer planning (trip expenses, food expenses [feeding teenagers and preteens is crazy], and other summer entertainment) have somehow taken over my time and mind (as I have to adjust my workflow to fit a whole new budget). Plus, I am slated to review five forthcoming novels for a credible fiction organization, contribute to an anthology (story due in July), whip up a third novel by August, and some other stuff that I can't quite rattle off because everything is blurry.

Needless to say, I will not start my research in June (maybe not even July or August). However, I did complete Gwendolen Gross's The Orphan Sister Saturday (will be released by Simon & Schuster in July), and will complete Terry McMillan's Getting to Happy this week, and Vanessa Davis Griggs' Redeeming Waters next week. While these authors have written some really great books on some really interesting subjects, I don't think there will be a whole lot here to work with as far as translating strange fruit goes.

What these authors will help me do is prepare for my own workshop submission (which is just around the corner, I think). I think my most recent Nigerian and Ghanaian film addiction will help me with this as well. While I admit these movies have major flaws compared to our Hollywood cinema, there is a certain theme of honor and will to do good that I find very attractive. I thank Yahweh for my iPad. I watch and work for most of the morning.

Alas, only three more days remaining before my full days belong to the children. Anyway, summer is supposed to mean catch-up time (for a student, I guess), but with detours and roadblocks, I'm looking forward to the fall.

Dark Girls

2011-05-30T09:15:00.000-07:00

Dark Girls: Preview from Bradinn French on Vimeo.

This clip is quite fascinating (thanks for sharing, Charley Bevill). It speaks to and comments on my MA thesis, but more than that it comments on how beauty translates. This is a major issue among black women (men too because it comments on how they translate their own beauty). I'm excited about this. Definitely will be looking out for this as a source for my project.

LSW

Making Miracles

2011-05-25T15:09:00.000-07:00

In West African tradition, I am a manyi (mother of twins). I wonder if my role or the roles of my daughters would be viewed differently if I had been exposed to fertility drugs during their conception. Assisted reproductive technology has revolutioned infertility treatment. I wonder what this means when so many children are still murdered, abused, and abandoned all over the world we live in. Moreso, many parents that choose treatment as a path to undo infertility or hurry the process are doublely (or more) blessed, right?
I recently read Barbara Kingsolver's Poisonwood Bible, where she depicts a Southern white family of missionaries, forced by their father to journey the Congo during the country's fight for independence from the Belgian government. Halfway through the book one of the African characters realizes that one of the white children is a twin. The African informs the girl that in his village baza are taken into the forest and abandoned after they are born because they are believed to possess power to curse and plaque the people of the village. This particular character finds the African traditions and practices strange enough; however, she reasons that natural disasters had indeed plagued her homeland the year that she and her sister were born. She considers that maybe—just maybe, there is something more than ordinary about twins.

As well, during the period in Kingsolver's book, there were more fraternal twins born in West Africa than anywhere else in the world. Today, many ethnic groups in Cameroon and Nigeria strongly react (positively or negatively) to twin births. Many reactions center a belief grounded twin divinity. They are seen as supernatural forces or gifts, possessing powers to harm those who do not please them.

Traditionally, certain rituals and in some cases, rites, were performed when twins were born; however, colonization and imperialism contributed to changes in these traditions. Practices varied tribe-to-tribe. Some tribes killed the children and others simply spoiled them. Particular birth and burial rituals were also performed. For instance, the Yoruba would kill the twins and sometimes the manyi as well. They once believed twins were evil entities born to mothers who had slept with two men at one time. This practice and belief was abandoned under the influence of organized Christianity (actually credited to a Scottish missionary). Today in Yoruba, twins are celebrated as humans of divine origin. They are treated with respect and are often positioned to gain prosperity for their families.

Infanticide in cases involving twins was not exclusive to Africa. In some tribal societies, twins of the opposite gender were believed to have committed incest in the womb and were condemned. In many cases only one twin was killed. In Serbia, infanticide was still common in the 19th century. When twins were born, at least one was sacrificed to the pagan god, perun (church doctrine forbade this practice, but it was still done). Overall, the practice of infanticide (even outside of twin birth) was not uncommon throughout the world.

In America, there are many factors involved when considering chances of "twinning." About one in ninety births result in twins, and about two-thirds of twin (or higher) births can be attributed to assisted reproductive technology. In 2003, over half of all infant births by way of assisted reproductive technology were part of multiple births. Another explanation for the climbing rate of multiples in America is that women are waiting until they reach their thirties to have children. Studies show that woman over thirty-five have higher chances of having multiples.

I wonder, with the use of fertility drugs, if the perception of twins translates into something less powerful. How are the supernatural and divine creations of twins viewed when human actions are what have increased the chances of twin births? If the matter of twin births (influenced by fertility drugs) does translate to less power for those who believe that twins warrant special treatment, how would they argue the explanation that the high number of twin births in West Africa has been connected to the high diet of phytoestrogen (hormone that stimulated the ovaries to produce eggs from each side)?

I do know that there is a certain sense of pride associated with being a mother. Double that and you have the pride of a manyi. Being a proud manyi has nothing to do with me believing that my girls are divine or supernatural beings. Moreso, my pride stems from the idea that I get to be part of the phenomena of motherhood times two. There is something fascinating about knowing that my girls share the same DNA, natural cloning of sorts. To see them grow and develop at almost identical rates is amazing; yet, even more astounding is how different they are. How one egg spilt and formed two souls that seem so empty apart is beyond my understanding. I think more than magic… its miracle.

Since long before me, this miracle has been interpreted as many different things. I imagine as humans we have grasped for understanding and sometimes concluded incorrectly, acting savagely on those conclusions. But still, I wonder… do miracles become something else when we try to control them? **shrugging my shoulders**

Translating Words and Names

2011-05-24T15:14:00.000-07:00

Most folks close to me know that the translation requirement for a master’s degree at UTD almost put an end to my pursuit for a graduate degree. I think what discouraged and confused me more than my lack of confidence in the English language was how one little Spanish word could mean so many things. When I expressed my fears and linguistic dilemmas to colleagues, I felt even more out of place because words and translation and understanding the unknown came easy to each person I confided in. I kept hearing “it’s simple, you’ll pass it,” but after failing the exam twice, I was ready to throw in the towel.
            I have come to realize that I am an African American woman in a non African American environment. I was raised in a household where the mask of perfect English was not necessary. Like many other African Americans, the more time I spent in non African American environments the more skilled I became at wearing my mask. A mere 146 years have passed since Emancipation. If my great-grandmother were still alive she would be 101 years old. At least one of her grandparents was a slave, and that grandparent more than likely spoke in slave dialect. Consider the slave narratives collected from the Federal Writers Program during the Great Depression. The language of my family derived from the dialect of those slaves. My great-grandmother did not sound like her grandparents, but she was an African American woman and dealt mostly within her own African American world. She did not speak proper English. My grandmother’s English was probably better than her mother’s, and my mother's is probably better than hers. Yet, I am certain, even as our lineage trickles down to me, a language barrier still exists.
            This brings me to the muddled state of translation. I have no problem conveying my thoughts, arguments, and ideas in fiction. I write black characters who speak in a language I understand and recognize without the difficultly of masking or unmasking myself with what is considered proper English. When producing scholarship I struggle. The mask that I have become skilled in wearing moderately as a speaker, translates differently when I am faced with writing academically. It is not a secret to a mask wearer that he or she functions behind a mask; yet, there is a certain level of discomfort associated with properly protecting that masked identity. The question that I continue to ask myself is why—why the mask in the first place?
            In answer to my own question, a singular universal language works as a mask itself, designed to conceal, manipulate, and control all languages and the transferring of principals and histories. The most elaborate and recognizable truth of this is in the translating of biblical texts. Consider Yahshua, whose name has universally evolved to Jesus. Lidiia Ianovskaia states that “Yeshua”:

was exactly how his name sounded in ancient Judea. It was later transformed, in Greek transcription, into Jesus, since Greek has no “sh” sound. I have before me the canonical Gospels in Hebrew. That is natural enough, because there are Christians living in the Holy Land whose native language is Hebrew… The Gospels in Hebrew give us “Yeshua.” There are no other variants. (Ianovskaia 27)

Ianovskaia’s argument has obvious errors. “Yeh” instead of “Yah” is a modern Hebrew usage meant to avoid implying that Yahshua is Yahweh. However, Yahshua means “Yahweh is salvation,” so even the name of the Son directs attention to the Father. The “Yah” is purposed and forever. By calling on the name Yahshua one evokes Yahweh. Again, the “Yah” is important. The most significant part of the passage, for the purpose of my point, is the mention of variants. If there are no variants for the name Yeshua, how are there more than ten names for Jesus in the English language? William Barnstone, in his article, “Why a New Translation of the New Testament,” states:

TO CLARIFY ETHNIC IDENTITY, I HAVE restored the probable Greek, Aramaic, and Hebrew names of all personages, of Yeshua (Jesus), his family, and followers. Hence, we will not see Peter, Paul, and Mary performing in Jerusalem but Shimon Kefa, Shaul, and Miryam acting their parts in Yerushalayim. We will know that the tale of Jesus occurs in the Near East, with no ties to Europe other than that the Kingdom of Judaea (Israel) was occupied by the Romans. We will know that Pilate, a Roman tetrarch, ordered Jesus’s death, and his Roman centurion and soldiers crucified a Jewish messiah. The English name Jesus is from the Greek (transliterated as Iesous), from the Aramaic (Yeshua), which was a later form of the Hebrew (Yehoshua). (Barnstone)

This passage demonstrates the translation of names. What is to gain through the changing of names? Why must there be a constant bowing? A common practice in names is transliteration not translation. Jesús (xe’sus) would be spelled Jesus but still pronounced Jesús (xe’sus). As well, Jose would remain José. Why then are Yahweh (YHWH) and Yahshua not transliterated? Yahweh becomes God and Yahshua becomes Jesus. Although Barnstone fails to acknowledge the importance of “Yah,” he acknowledges the Greek transliteration of Jesus, Iesous.  When translating Yeshua to Greek, translators had to choose between phonetic or interpretive quality concerning Semitic versions of the name. It would appear they chose to match the word phonetically because the meaning of the name is lost in the phonetic translation. Iesous, which some scholars have claimed is adapted from the Greek name of the mythological goddess of recuperation or healing, Iaso, is the result of the translation of Yeshua into the non-Semitic language. From Greek to Latin the name became Iesus and with the appearance of the letter “J” the name became Jesus. Alas, the meaning associated with the name Yahshua is lost in translation and the true power of the original name becomes masked beneath a lesser—weaker form.
             The phraseology (English language) that has been forced on many societies leaves little room for other forms of aphoristic expression. Maxine Hong Kingston, in Woman Warrior, contends that the Chinese immigrant changes his/her own name to protect its significance as he/she adapts to the “Golden Kingdom.” But what does it mean when a name is changed against the will of the named? Consider the Africans of Diaspora. Why was it so important for colonizers to change their names? It was a form of control—a way to sever their pasts and control their futures. It was an undermining of identity and the most effective beginning to eliminating the growth and continuance of their deep connection to ancient languages and cultures.
            Today, the descendants of such deep connections to antiquated oral and written languages that include hieroglyphics, cuneiform, and Akkadian languages, are conditioned to conform to the practice of proper English. Perhaps the universality of this new language is convenient as it promotes worldwide communication. However, the book of Genesis references a time after the flood and formation of nations when the whole earth was of one speech. This singular form of communication led to unity that led to knowledge that led to power that appeared unstoppable. Yahweh recognized this and said, “let us go down and confound their knowledge that they may not understand one another’s speech.” (Genesis) The language barrier, in biblical context, was created in order for the world to be maintained and controlled. To oppose this is to oppose Yahweh, is it not?

I’ll have to think a bit more about this.

LSW

Translating Beauty

2011-05-20T07:13:00.000-07:00

Do we even know what beauty is? For the past week I have been viewing a youtube channel that features African cinema (English language). While the acting is not as evolved as that of American cinema, the actors and actresses are gorgeous. As I rewind to catch glimpses of faces with full lips spread across them, high cheek bones, and skin darker (unblemished and perfect) than what is considered beautiful on this side of earth (we are spreading our perceptions of beauty), I wish they would trash the long weaves, wigs, and too light makeup, to reveal a original beauty—the first and last beauty. It dawns on me that they may not realize how beautiful they, or perhaps, they doubt the ability of the non African to recognize their beauty.

The characters in the films made me think of the post on Javetta Mercadel’s blog, Tastes Like Good Coffee. In “The Family’s Role In A Girl’s Self-Acceptance,” Javetta discusses the connection between the young girls’ self-images, self-enhancements, and the role of the parents. With Javetta’s blog in mind, I compared the outer beauty of the actors and actresses in the film to the inner of my nieces and daughters. In the same way the women in the films enhance themselves to emulate or become depictions of the beauty that is being fed to the world through western media and literature, I see my daughters and nieces fighting to prove their inner beauty to a society that doesn’t always deem the “inner girl” as the most important of the two (other: the outer or physical).

It is important to teach these girls that the metaphysical parts of themselves can be the most precious gifts and the greatest opportunity to pass on pieces of themselves. In a world where men have gained so much confidence in themselves and the contributions they THINK they have made to making earth, earth, it is imperative that we pass on inner beauty, inner hope, inner (which has no choice but to become outer) LOVE. We have come to a place where humanity is actually arrogant enough to place its own definitions on physical and inner beauty. This is another important component to LIFE and communication that is threatened to be lost in translation. It starts at home and is carried to the masses. Somebody has to lead.

LSW