*That's Swahili for "What's the news?" It's the "traditional" greeting on each day of Kwanzaa--which is Swahili for "After-Christmas sales."
Today is UMOJA which means unity. On this, the first day of Kwanzaa, we seek to promote unity in the family, community, nation, and race.
Umoja has been a part of AfAm culture for as long as I can remember. Take, for instance, the popular Queen Latifah song U.M.O.J.A., Bob Marley's "One Love," or the ultimate togetherness party anthem, Sister Sledge's "We are Family." If it's still not resonating after that list of songs, I suggest you work on fostering umoja in your life, starting today. Here are a few suggestions:
If you're Caucasian, invite a bunch of friends out for a walk on a weekend afternoon. I learned a few weeks ago that Caucasians love a crisp, sunny day. (Seriously, I was the only person of color on Columbus Avenue from 81st - 97th street.)
Become a fan of the brand-nubian Facebook fan page Blacktress Comedy. By clicking "Like," you're actually umoja-ing with other like-minded folks and supporting my truths!
Next time you're in a group of folks that you don't really know, mention the Kardashians (any of them) and wait for the resounding chorus of groans as people enumerate the reasons why that family is a sign of the apocalypse.
Rent the film Teen Witch and invite some gals and gays over for a viewing party. By the time the number "I Like Boys" starts to play, you'll all be new bffs!
When you're hanging out with someone who you really want to be besties with, just agree with everything they say. You guys will be so umoja-ed, it'll be like you're siamese.
Hope this helps you bring a little Kwanzaa into your day! I'll be back with more tips tomorrow!
Today is a day of sadness. Not only is it a Monday, but it’s also the end of Black History Month. As we look b(l)ack on all we’ve accomplished in the last 28 days (5 stand up shows, RuPaul’s Drag Race, 16 and Pregnant…and a partridge in a pear tree), we can be thankful for the black people in our life – and the ones we’ve only read about.
Gentle readers, I find myself in a bit of a holding pattern. No, it’s not just because I’m back at the same job that drove me cray-cray only a year ago, or because my mother and her latin lover STILL haven’t moved out of the house. Perhaps it’s because I haven’t had sex in a year. Yeah, that’s probably it. All I know is, I’m feeling bored. I don’t know what to do to keep myself busy in a way that’s particularly active. 10 minutes on stage is fine, but what about the other 23 hours and 50 minutes in the day? Okay, take away 7 for sleep, then that’s still 16 hours and 50 minutes. What to do when there are no genetic anomalies to ? Now that Stephenie Meyer has stopped writing Twilight books, I have no tales of repressed, dramatic and traumatic teen love to get me through the day.
What do you suggest, gentle readers? As my number of followers pushes 45, I feel it is behoovy of me to start making out with strangers, getting in trouble, and giving you your money’s worth.
Wait, this blog is free. Well then, consider my job done here.
Happy Monday!
PS: AAAAHHH! I just looked at my list of followers and saw that Daddy Dugan is now following a blacktress. For those of you who don’t know (i.e. all of you), Daddy Dugan is this guy I met on Friday night who seemed to be able to handle my truths. We got along swimmingly, and his ex-girlfriend is really pretty, making him much cooler by association. Do you think his following of my blog means that we’re going to be besties and braid each others’ hair and watch TEEN WITCH on Saturday nights? I hope so!
Speaking of TEEN WITCH, I will use any excuse to post a youtube clip from this film. Below, see one of the finest moments in film history (and a nod to my celibacy):
You all know how I have dreams of becoming an overseas pop-singing sensation, right? Yeah, so I’m thinking it’s time I kick that jam into high-gear. Perhaps, instead of Ashley Tisdale, they can put a blacktress in the remake of Teen Witch! Imagine:
Int. Classroom. Day. A dowdy blacktress, in glasses and an ill-fitting potato-sack dress, sits in the back of the class, doodling and staring longingly at Mark (played by Soul Food television hottie Boris Kodjoe), a star football player who already has a full scholarship to a historically black college—even though he’s only a junior. He catches her staring, and he smiles. His teeth gleam like white Chiclets. She drops her pen, flustered. When she reaches down to pick it up, she smacks her head on the desk—so awkward! She shrieks, and all her classmates turn and snicker as she holds her throbbing head.
Teacher: Do you have something to say, Sojourner?
Sojourner: No, massa—I mean, Mister Hiller.
She looks over at Mark and blushes (yes, a black girl can blush).
Okay, that’s all I got so far, but the rest of it will involve a choreographed dance routine to the remix of Nina Simone’s hit song “Young, Gifted, and Black,” which will feature a rap by Lil’ Bow Wow (or, as I like to call him, “The WOW”).
Um, if you can’t tell, I’m bored, guys. Not just cause it’s Monday and I’m on the plantation, but with NYC in general. It’s just getting old. The same bars, the same pervy guys, the same trains with the same delays—I need a change of pace.
So I’m thinking moving to Australia.
Yes, I want to go down under.
Some of my loyal readers who have followed the truth from the beginning may be thinking that I want to go down under for the man who inspired this post. And although having his mixie babies would be a good time, I'm not about to pull a Felicity for a man who may not be worth is weight in gold doubloons.
But, his desire for a blacktress has really gotten me thinking. Why am I here dealing with crazy and lazy hot messes, when there is a whole world of men who may be down with the brown? The Australian has shown me what I could be missing. Besides, the weather’s mild, the men are tanned and rugged, and everyone has an accent. I could get a job at a bar (you know how I love to enable other people’s addictions) or work in an office. I could get a gig as a nanny, but that'll be too similar to my slave past, and I may have flashbacks. Or, I could really develop my skills as a blacktress and be a recurring character on Neighbours, in which I play....a black girl who moves into the neighborhood!!! I don’t really care what I do as long as it allows Sojourner to write, travel, and see something new (not the movie—though I will probably bring that DVD with me as a carry-on).
But I’m fearful. Will they be able to handle a blacktress down under? Where will I get my hair did? Will the white male oppress me? Will I get to make out with hot dudes? I mean, I’ve read about the Aborigines and seen Rabbit-Proof Fence, so I know tensions can run a little high—how will they feel about Sojourner? CAN THEY HANDLE THE TRUTH???
What do you think, guys? Any suggestions? I think I may have some Australian blog readers (ELI REED, i'm talking to you): if you have any insights, please bring them to a blacktress (we can exchange email addresses and discuss). Would you be my friend if I came to your hemisphere? If you like the blog, you’ll love Sojo IN THE FLESH.
I bet some of you are wondering about the status of the Photographer/The Giver. Despite my word vomit and awkwardness, it seems this fellow is still feeling the blacktress. I have been reluctant to go into detail because he may still be reading the blog, and I don’t want him knowing all of Sojourner’s truths just yet. However, I feel the need to share this relationship’s progress as it works toward becoming a REALationship (you know the difference—holla!)
So, last Friday was a low key night, where we attended an art opening that I’d be invited to through work. I thought that the event’s open bar and hip downtown artists would show him how important and with-it I am. Plus, being a photographer, I thought he’d be all into the art scene.
For moral support, I asked my homegirl Karisa to show up an hour earlier.
“SoTru, why would you show up an hour early for a date?” You may be wondering. I know this seems strange. However, I find an early arrival decreases later awkwardness. By scoping out the area before my date, I am able to check my face to see if there were any issues while in transit, make note of all the nearest exits (in case he turns out to be cray), and know where things are to make it seem like I come to said establishment regularly. When my date arrives and I am already waiting, I have what I like to call “the upper hand,” as he wonders if he’s late and tries to placate me with compliments.
Anyway, after checking out some art and having some free dranks, we headed back to the BK to kick it old school. We had a college-style date—you know, sitting in a room and watching a movie. While many of my lady friends wondered why I wouldn’t demand lobster tails and a Broadway show, I stand by my choice of a low key date. First of all, such interactions are the main reason I look for a winter spoon; it’s too damn cold to be hittin’ the streets! Point number two: Do not wine me and dine me just to end up lyin’ to me! I don’t need all the bells and whistles and distraction—let me see what YOU are about, you know? How many times have I giggled and cooed in a tipsy state as a man said things that were clearly red flags? For instance, when I'm at the club and he goes:
I’ve always wanted to kiss a black girl. (WARNING: You have a fetishizer on your hands!) OR Oh my god, you’re, like, actually funny. That’s so rare. (Reverse compliments mean you are with a level-one emotional abuser. Back away).
With simply a bottle of Cabernet and X-Men 2 on the boob tube, I could really get to the root of this photog—go “behind the lens” if you will (will you?).
After getting all hot and bothered by the sight of sweaty, bulging Hugh Jackman—aka HUGE JACKED MAN!—I had to assess my desires…and the Giver’s. Was he a slut? A ho? A freak? Did he have a different girl every day of the week? I told him it was cool, I’m not trying to put a rush on you—but I gotta let you know that I got a crush on you.
After wondering why I was quoting Lil’ Kim, he responded in kind, and I think we reached an understanding. Being deep in the BK after midnight, the logical choice was to spend the night…right? After physically expressing our emotions, we had a little pillow talk. We started talking about movies, and somehow the film Teen Witch came up.
Again, this would be a prime example of my awkwardness and word vomit. I don’t know if any of you have seen it, but Teen Witch is a 1989 classic about a girl who discovers she is a witch on her 16th birthday. Mousy Louise then uses her new powers to make herself hot, popular, and win the man of her dreams, only to realize, she doesn’t need magic after all.
Oh, did I mention it’s sort of a musical with songs such as “I like Boys,” and “I Wanna Be the Most Popular Girl”?
Yes, it IS the greatest film of our time.
But I wouldn’t necessarily recommend sharing this information with a man in his bed….unless he’s REALLY AWESOME (like the Photographer)—or gay (like my besties). One mention of the film, and the photog begins the first few lines of the film’s best track: “Top That.” It’s a great rap in which Louise’s equally mousy friend Polly is magically given the gift of street cred and approaches her far-off crush (Rhett Cappalletti) in fierce urban poetry.
Wait, I don’t think my description is doing the scene justice. See for yourself.
AAAHHH!!!! HOW GOOD IS THIS?!?!?!?!?! CAN YOU TOP THAT????????? I find myself to be as awkward as Polly, and I guess you could call the Photographer my Rhett Cappelletti--only without the tight stonewashed jeans. But they both have the same street flava.
As you can imagine, the Photog’s knowledge of this great film and its music sparked much delight in the heart of the blacktress. As I fought the urge to propose marriage on the spot, he told me it was “quiet time” as I squealed with excitement at 3 am. Of course, his pop culture knowledge coupled with his no-nonsense manliness only fanned the love fires.
In honor of the role of musical films in our lives, he and I are going to see Sweeney Todd tonight.
And then I’m going to come home and Photoshop our heads together to see what our offspring will look like.
