layering clothes can serve two purposes:
As an artist and alumnus of the historically Black male institution, Morehouse College, I was dismayed, 'though not surprised, to learn of their recent decision to ban cross-dressing on their campus, along with do-rags, sagging pants, and headwear (grills?), as part of its new "dress code."
Morehouse is a private institution that has worked tirelessly at uplifting the image and esteem of African-American men for generations and thus has every right to enforce the codes of conduct and expression that it sees as beneficial to its student body, yet its conservative/traditionalist ideology is sometimes at odds with the progressive awareness that it would seemingly hope to instill, or even more importantly, nurture in its students. Furthermore, its stride to maintain a highbrow mystique seems to lie solely in its preparation of young men to enter the Fortune 500 or some ministerial fellowship, with little and waning interests in the arts or the importance of creative expression.
My first day at Morehouse was the last day I combed my hair. I couldn't wait to twist and lock what my father had insisted I comb, while sleeping in his house. I knew that my time away from church and home was especially suited to be just that: My time. And I planned to use it wisely to express and explore all that I was on the verge of discovering. Here was where I 'd be given the space and, perhaps, the inspiration to question aspects of my upbringing, harness new disciplines, pursue my passions, and, quite simply, mature. I didn't find it particularly bothersome when, during that first week, my freshman brothers and I were told, "Morehouse men do not wear locks," that I'd have to cut my hair to sing in their prestigious Glee Club (this about the same time that my father told me I should cut my hair to be in my sister's wedding), and that, although I would declare myself a philosophy and drama major at Morehouse, I would have to take all of my drama classes at another historically Black institution, Spelman College, across the street, because Morehouse (although it offered the major in its course book) had no drama department of its own.
Rock treats the topics with a chuckle, but it leaves us with a feeling that we’re getting a blow-dried, glossy version of the actual stories. Instead of just asking Black models and actresses (most of whom wear weaves) for their thoughts on hair, what about Black public intellectuals like Angela Davis and Toni Morrison?
While treating such a complicated topic with levity can be refreshing, it is also deceiving. For as funny as it is to discuss the dos and don’ts of weave sex (“Stay on top,” advises Nia Long), there is a deeper psychology underneath those tresses of wavy hair.
He (Al Sharpton) comments on how Black people wear their oppression on their heads. But if he acknowledges the oppression, then why continue to do it? Undoubtedly there is no simple answer, but the topic begs for more exploration.
Dudley’s Hair and Cosmetics, the factory that produces the toxic vats of relaxant, is one of a handful of Black-owned brands. The founder, Joe Dudley, says it’s significant his product is made “by our own, for our own.” And yet, after witnessing what relaxant does to a piece of chicken breast, we have to wonder, what exactly are you selling to your people?
Noticeably absent from the documentary is the matriarch of the family, Malaak Compton-Rock. After all, who is the most enduring presence in a young daughter’s life? A quick scan of images and videos of Malaak Compton-Rock reveals a self-assured woman who is passionate about her nonprofit work and sports a giant head of weave. The reason for little Zahra’s lament becomes clear: she just wants hair like Mom’s.
One year ago, Barack Obama was elected President of the United States, effectively ending racism in America. As an African-American, I can say this has been an awesome year. Since Obama’s victory, the prejudices and mistrust built up over four hundred years of racial oppression has seemed to vanish. Nobody ever questions my credentials or intellect anymore. I get along fabulously with police officers. And Obama even won a Nobel Peace Prize which allowed the entire country to feel proud about our leader.
Sorry, my sarcasm meter goes up to 11.
Still, one year into Obama’s administration, racial tensions in America are certainly playing out differently. I’m not sure if things are better, but I suppose it could have been worse. Let’s take a look at the pros and cons of Obama’s post-racial America.Continue
On Monday the Supreme Court heard arguments on whether life without the chance of parole violated the Eighth Admendents prohibition againd cruel and unusual punishment. Other than in death penalty cases, the justices never before have found that a penalty crossed the cruel-and-unusual line. An open letter to African-American women:
It's about the need to be beautiful, I know.
As goals go, that one is neither extraordinary nor gender-specific. But it's different for women, isn't it? A man's sense of self worth is seldom endangered by crow's feet. On him people will say they convey ``character.'' On a woman, they convey wear.
And if it's different for women, it's different and then some for women like you, saddled not just with the need to be beautiful, but also with 400 years of racial baggage, 400 years of ginormous Jemimahs, shrill Sapphires, ugly Aunt Esthers and angry Angelas seared into the public mind, 400 years which say you cannot be beautiful if your lips are too proud, or your skin too dark or you don't take that nappy hair God gave you and make it look like the hair he gave somebody else.
There are a lot of great entertainers who do great things. Bill Cosby is one of them. He has always used his voice to right what he thought was wrong. However, I believe that too often Mr. Cosby has wrongly placed the blame.
Bill Cosby is an example of someone from the older generation who has consistently blamed the poets and asked suffering community members to bare the full burden of guilt for the struggles that they endure. It is certainly not that he and the rest of the elders don't care, because they do. In fact, their intentions are pure and good. All the things they say are actually true. What they don’t understand is that the young people who they criticize did not create their own realities. They did not create the crumbling education system that we school them in. They did not create the drug epidemic and drug wars that have resulted in a dysfunctional family structure. They did not create the health care crisis that does not treat them. They did not create the culture of violence that they fall victim to.
Yes I know its cliché, but it still holds true. “Monogamous” is a word that is not in his lexicon. He always has a team, and the best you can hope for is that it’s a b-ball squad instead of a football starting lineup. He is the quintessential ladies man, and sadly, you probably aren’t the woman to get him to settle down. When you first meet him, he’s charming & seems to know all the right things to say, and he’s probably putting it down in the bedroom too. But once you get comfy, you realize that you’re just one of many, and he isn’t about to change his lifestyle just for you. Make no mistake, he has no problem with you taking care of him in hopes of being his one & only, but with this guy, the “prize” is being his #1, not his only. Save yourself the heartache & the drama by steering clear of this guy.
The Equally Yoked-er becomes toxic for herself because she sabotages potential relationships based on criteria that while may be impressive, don’t really correlate with functional relationships. And she becomes toxic to men in two ways. for men that don’t “measure up”, she tends to deride or minimize them. The refrain is always, “I have a law degree, I’m supposed to date the janitor now?” As if there were no middle ground between lawyer and janitor. For those men that do meet her standards, if they’re not interested, she’s the first to yell about how “these arrogant educated black men think they’re god’s gift to women.” In some ways, she fetishizes public accomplishment the same way guys fetishize a Cherokee D’ass size booty. It’s not about the person, it’s about something else.
