boycott jamaica?

this was pointed out to me this morning via twitter.

it's the sweatshop argument all over again.

i have enough ties to lgbtq people that i completely understand where they're coming from. similarly, i don't want kids losing fingers in machinery or working 15 hour days before they're even old enough to drive a car.

but for many poor but beautiful places like jamaica, tourism is what drives the economy. resort jobs are "good" jobs. tourism also supports craftspeople and various vendors both in and outside the resorts.

so, if you're going to boycott jamaica, are you also going to provide safe spaces for lgbtq people there? a statement from the government is a nice start, but we all know how lightweight they can be. and the police in places like jamaica don't work like they do here.

a paradigm shift is what's needed, and that shift will only arise through education, empowerment, and doing the work. a boycott is only one sliver of the puzzle. until enough people come out and the numbers are known, not much will change.

have these people spoken to (do they even know of?) any jamaican lgbtq folks--ex patriots or not--who have done or are trying to do this kind of work to keep these people safe? couldn't they provide more clear cut, comprehensive ways to help?

i'd be more eager to hear from folks like staceyann chin about culturally knowledgeable ways to handle this. i don't see any faces of color--or faces, period--on that site. and that pisses me off a bit since we're talking about an island full of black folks.

there's a difference between taking your dollars out of an already bad situation, thereby creating a void that could possibly make the situation worse--as one commenter wisely noted--and actually promoting justice for those folks.

have you even thought that far?

or do you just want to feel like you're doing something?

please don't misunderstand me: i know people are dying over there, and it's awful. i hate to see my people falling for the okey doke around sexuality because it was not our original way. i love dancehall, but i don't wanna hear about somebody wanting to set fire to my little brother because of who he loves.

i want a change as much as these folks do.

however, i would hope that we'd know by now that this sort of neo-colonialist, paternalistic (we're gonna take your allowance!) "action" typically winds up amounting to a pile of bullshit.

steppin to the mic, part 2

so i wrote this back in july.

i think it was based on a lie i told myself to avoid facing a larger truth.

the performance/poetry part is true. that world seems perpetually stuck somewhere between high school and college; a nice piece of nostalgia, but i'm way past love jones now.

i still do not, personally, want to to broadcast my story, but indications point to it being imperative that i find a vehicle to say something, whether i "want" to or not.

in other words, the universe has other plans.

but why should i try to say anything?

i am young (relatively speaking), and have not done much traveling.

i do not have a rags to riches story.

i am not a high-powered career woman.

i am not a mother.

i do not want to be "famous" or put my biz (or my family's) out on front street.

i am not an activist.

still, i'm supposed to speak.

but don't all the "so you wanna be a writer..." books say you need to find your audience, then write to suit said audience? isn't that how i was trained?

i don't know who i'm talking to.

...no. that's a lie, too. truth, girl.

ok, ok.

i suppose i'd be talking to the girls like me who grew up to be women like me: aliens born into a world--and families--that didn't understand how to hold us. women who, despite all sense and sanity, feel driven to challenge, heal, nurture, and defend this shadowy, not-home place because we know we are not new, but modern manifestations of an ancient principle.

but it has to be real.
no contrived, new agey stuff.
no jargon and double speak.
no veiled tkon-isms.
no judgement of when, how or why you've come to the circle.

i'm gonna end this before my little hater starts up.

but it's a start.

micromovements

i have to deal with this word thing.

the creativity battle has to stop.

my conceptions, feelings and patterns around being muted and/or silenced need to be dealt with and reworked.

it's not a matter of finding my voice. it's more about respecting that voice and its power, and using it to fully step into my purpose.

fk.

that's pretty terrifying.

but i can't walk away from this kind of challenge. i'm too proud of my ability to dig up the roots of these things and fix them.

but how do i begin?

blossoming (con't.)

i still hold a lot of fear about being fully myself.

then again, i also tend to forget that sometimes i've already written the answers.

i'll need all of me to get over this hump.

otherwise i'll stay stuck in the same mud i've been in for years.

contradictions

trying not to hate money since i need to draw some to me.

hmm

time to get creative.

#10 - cry when i need to, for as long and as hard as i need to. let go. don't suppress discomfort or pain. be vulnerable with yourself if no one else.

hey,

i know we don't talk very often, but i wanted to try to get in touch.

i used to see you a lot more years ago--during the healing--but not so much lately.

if i ignore you, it's because i don't really know how to talk to you, or i think you'll demand something i can't give. for the most part, i know things were good for you, but there were also some harsh things i'm not always sure how to face. i apologize for my cowardice.

that said, i need you to show me who you were. i know you probably saw a lot of things that i'm kind of tapped into now, but not like i really need to be.

i know you had a much clearer vision of who and what you wanted to be* before the world stepped in with all those "you can't..." and "don't you think you should..." things.

can you help me? can you help me to hear what you heard, see what you saw?

like the conversations with angels. i remember how i used to lie in bed and just...talk. and i was answered. i didn't realize until much later that conversations i thought i'd had with one of my parents were really things i asked the air.

i'm sure you're still around...as silly as i can be and as much as i still like playing with toys when the opportunity arises. but it's the deeper things i'm interested in now; the lessons you have to teach. i'd like to hear all those silly, imaginary thoughts you thought--because now i know you can show me which ones i need to cling to now.

anyway, i just wanted you to know i was thinking about you, and i hope we can talk soon. since the baby-dropping dreams** stopped some time ago, we must have healed our relationship at least somewhat. i hope you'll let me know if there's something you need.

see you soon,

o.


*there was something very, very familiar about the sorceress. even the word "sorceress" was beautiful to me. i felt, somehow, that i could either be like her or that i actually had been in some other existence. my favorite episodes of he-man were always ones where she featured prominently.

**i used to have a recurring dream where my mother had a baby (long after her hysterectomy). someone would invariably pass the baby to me and i would always drop him/her, much to my dismay/horror and berate myself horribly for doing so. later, i was told that the baby was probably me, and that i harbored some negative feelings around "dropping" or otherwise neglecting/harming my inner child.

back to birthing

had visions of butterflies this morning...

i'm also thinking of this entry and how it still holds true.

i'm in the midst of another birthing process, both internally and externally.

i feel good.
and i'm grateful.

iba yeye mi
iba baba mi
iba olodumare olojo oni
iba orisa
iba egungun idile mi
iba egbe mi
iba elders, teachers, mentors, spirit guides

ase o

baby blues

dearest devi,

you would have been about 6 months old now.

i'm very sorry you didn't make it into the world, although i understand why. i still think of you before i bleed every month, especially when i can feel those subtle movements of my ovaries and fallopian tubes.

sometimes i get angry, thinking it's all a waste. other times, i'm grateful because i know that as long as i bleed, there's a possibility you'll return.

i've heard your tiny little voice a few times. you call me "mama" just like i hoped you'd grow up to do. i know your spirit will always be with me, even though we weren't physically connected for very long.

every time i hear a new baby's coming, i think about you and miss you. it hurts that we weren't able to be together.

because baba's not well, i don't know if i'll have another chance to see you or any of your (possible) brothers and sisters. as you might know, we don't get many chances to birth in my family, but i wouldn't want to bring you here knowing you might have to endure the loss of one of your parents.

i hope you know that we would have loved to meet you. i even knew what you'd look like: baba's eyes, a complexion between mine and his. definitely an awesome smile. i liked how you would come in dreams sometimes.

i wanted to birth you in water somewhere beautiful and safe--no weird drugs or doctors in masks hanging around.

i wanted to learn how to wear you like the ancestors did and laugh when your grandma fussed about how you were going to "fall out of that thing".

i wanted to read you all the books i didn't get to see until college while you were in the womb.

i wanted orin orisa to be your lullabies so you'd feel more at home.

i'm not exactly sure why i'm writing this, baby. given everything that's happened since, i've gone back to my usual "maybe i will, maybe i won't" speech when people ask me about whether or not i want/when i'm going to have any babies.

but in the back of my mind, i just laugh a little and think about how this would have been a completely different half-year if you'd been here. sometimes it just hurts and makes me want to cry. i know they don't mean anything by it, though.

i'll always love you and the possibilities you brought with you. you did a lot of healing and brought a lot of gifts, and i'm grateful. we both are.

be a good girl. i know i'll see you again one day.

yours,

mama

here we go again...

more fear-based conspiracy programming.*

i support(ed) obama and still do, within reason. whatever the consequence of his presidency, a mccain/palin one would have only sped things up (can you even comprehend the world if he kicked and that woman was in the chair??!?)

that said, obama could still fk up. it wouldn't break my heart if he did.

i'm also unnerved by the shot of the black boys drilling when they're not doing anything that you wouldn't see at a black frat step show. i'm a lot more worried about the jesus camp kids. white privilege still goes a long way.

even if this film is absolute truth, obama could still have a wake up call. he has time--whatever the consequences--to say "fk the system" and encourage others to do the same.

hell, if i remember correctly, kennedy towed the line for awhile, too. he made a decision to go the way he went; he didn't go in with guns blazing.

i am with the idea that all these financial ups and downs are orchestrated and that a handful of old white dudes are running the show. the military is dangerously overblown, and our economy is a joke mainly because a few people with a lot of money said "screw the public".

but guess what?

there are more of us than them.
people are coming to consciousness.
not everyone forgot history.
and the military ain't what it used to be--at least not in people power.

i'm not saying alex jones is completely wrong--just that information can be disseminated without a bunch of fear-mongering and with far more than a brief nod to constructive, solution-oriented thought.


*full disclosure: i watched about 40 min straight, then skipped to the end. will watch the full film later and come back, if necessary.

compulsion

i'm starting to wonder: why must i write about everything?

whether it's here or in a journal somewhere, everything has to be put into words, expressed.

well, at least these days i don't stop myself...

a woman's intuition

i am grateful to have realized that the tarot is a profound way to view impending issues and/or successes so that prayers and intentions can be focused more efficiently.

it's amazing how these methods have been maligned and ignored--probably in large part because they are so empowering in personal spiritual development.

starting with the holy roman empire and continuing ever since, divination has been stamped out and discouraged in favor of restricting true communication with the divine to a "chosen", impossible-to-emulate few. allowing it to exist in its original form as a means to understand one's destiny in a detailed, holistic way was diametrically opposed to the ultimate goals of imperialism: control and domination.

thankfully, many cultures have been able to retain their divination systems despite these trends. i suppose that since it wasn't supposed to work anyway (despite the obvious wizardry of moses, yeshua, john the baptist and several prophets), many elites decided to "let [the poor/women/commoners] have their [cards, shells, tea leaves]..." allowing mastery of the systems to be passed on except in the most repressive social situations. mystic and gnostic traditions also helped carry the torch.

once the negative programming of simplistic "fortune telling" is overcome, self divination allows patterns and concepts to emerge that are an immense help in navigating life.

just a thought.

...and just to get the taste of that last post outta my mouth

baba peter laying down the knowledge:

no matter where you come from
if you're a blackman, you're an african

don't hate.

i tuned in to nightwolf this evening, and he was talking about the intersections of black folks and native americans in the context of the cherokee freedmen struggle.

i am grateful to him for his truth-telling, including his willingness to acknowledge the pre-colombian contact afrikans had with native americans.

i grew up knowing i had native american ancestry. later, i was able (pushed, really) to connect with it spiritually.

however, i do not know which tribe intersected my family. considering my maternal great-grandmother's ancestry, it was probably the rappahannock.

i also grew up with the implication that even if we could find out about that side of the family, it didn't really matter. they probably wouldn't want to acknowledge us anyway.

the same story over and over again.

interesting how everyone's trying to one-up themselves on the ladder of white supremacy or fight for the scraps from massa's table, forgetting that we all came from africa.

black folks, no matter where we are found, are the most concrete evidence of that.

(i am africa man, original)

it's hurtful that some indians would shun us, considering our shared struggles and history. when we knew who the enemy truly was, we helped each other.

it can be difficult to see how eager folks are to distance themselves from us.

we're not indian enough
we're not spanish enough
we're not white enough
and, now, we're not even african enough.

unbreakable
broken too easily...

the list goes on.

but, in the end?
we survived the whitefolks the best way(s) we knew how. just like you.
we lost many in the struggle. just like you.
and we're still losing them. just like you.

it just so happens that it was that much harder for us to blend in or pass or be accepted as civilized.

for the strength of our genes, we've paid some heavy costs.

regardless, i'm going to hold my head up high, 'cause we don't need any more hate, inferiority complexes, or half assed, fetishistic love.

up, you mighty race...

sri lankan cricket team attacked

again i have to wonder:

what's really going on here?

where are the guns coming from?

is any of this about some ideal of islam--or any ideal at all--or is it more about government corruption, blackmail, and the extortion of poor, desperate people?

my gut reacted to this article the same way it did to mumbai--something's missing. the whole story isn't being told.

it feels like the same old someones are pulling strings...

shout out to rorynyc for the heads up.

random beauty

one of the most beautiful songs i've ever heard as part of the soundtrack of one of my favorite anime series.

if you've seen it, you know how pivotal the scene is in the life of the character...but it's also a beautiful statement on the nature of suffering, life, struggle, the will to overcome death, and rebirth.

"obokuri-eemui" by ikue asazaki