Christmas dinner, Trini style, made by K's father, Keith.

 

 

Happy last Saturday of the year, babes. Twenty-thirteen has been something. For me, it was most definitely better than the nightmare that was 2012. Yet, I'm still looking forward to taking down the old kitchen calendar and starting fresh.

 

I was doing some more thinking on the whole Duck Dynsaty affair and yesterday's post. My dear friend Thomas sent me a message that reminded me that one, someone is actually reading my stuff, and two, those who do actually care. That makes me smile. I wrote back to him telling him I rarely experience any overt acts of racism. In fact, the most hurtful comments I've heard related to race have been from other black folks. I guess it's because I don't appear a threat. Again, I'm 5'2. And even with holiday weight gain (hehehe), I probably weigh about 123 or 124. I'm not a very big person. I also wear glasses, and tend to have my hair pulled into a bun. I look like a librarian. My voice is on the higher side, and when I speak, I actually say things like, "Awww" and "you're so cute" freely. While I'm pretty dang sarcastic, I'm equally animated. K says I sound like a character from "The Simpsons". And you know, he's right. TD;LR, I scare exactly no one.

 

My husband on the other hand, seems to scare a hell of a lot of people... just for existing. He's six feet tall and has brown skin. He just turned 31, but looks 20 (Trinidad makes some good, good people, ya'll). No matter that his pants are NOT sagging off his butt and that he speaks softly and with measure; he's still a "male black, six feet tall". He is a director at his job, has traveled the world and speaks a couple languages. He adores (and spoils his princess), reads vociferously and loves cricket and soccer. All of that is besides the point, because he is "male black, six feet tall".

 

Sigh.

 

Forgive my harping on about this, but hey, you can always skip this and go to the links. It hurts me. It hurts me deeply. I'm use to being down. CIDP often keeps me down. But watching him being torn down by others' fear... it hurts my heart. I know it's easier on him in some settings if he has Zoe. A young dad isn't as scary. When the three of us are together, a complete picture, purses aren't grabbed nearly as much. He is transformed into a family man. People can unclutch their pearls and lower the mace.

 

As for Phil Robertson, again, I hold no malice towards him. His dumb comments didn't even bother me too much. He has a right to his opinions, complete with godly Negroes and anuses and all. No, what set me off is how quickly it became another culture war with Christians sounding the horns and charging ahead for battle... many without fully knowing what he actually said. Then, when people pointed out the offensiveness, the culture warriors turned on them. There would be no stopping them, not even the truth. I still see comments pretty much dismissing P.R.'s statements as being his memories so no one can argue with that. Um, we can, but people's memories can and are often limited by their perspective. Duh. This argument stinks of relativism, by the way.

 

A&E lifted his suspension yesterday, which makes a whole lot of business sense. There will be plenty more Louisiana down home hijinks for quite some time... until people get sick of it and relegate it to the pop culture has-been heap along with Paris Hilton's "The Simple Life" and "Flavor of Love". What saddens me, besides the Jim Crow whitewashing, is how this episode has played out to many non-Christians. Once again, the Christians went battling, and it had nothing to do with feeding the hungry, clothing the naked or helping the poor. It didn't even have a thing to do with the Gospel or Jesus. Ha. Onward Christian soldiers.

 

 

 

Colleges and universities as Wal-Marts and McDonalds. Brilliant. That will put American graduates at the top of exactly nothing worldwide.

 

Over at Religion News Service, Jonathan Merritt entreats Christians to mourn on today, the Feast of the Holy Innocents:

As the tinsel is packed away and the echoes of Christmas carols fade, Christians around the world observe the Feast of Holy Innocents or “Childermas.” On this day, the faithful will read the Biblical story of King Herod’s massacre of children in an attempt to murder the infant Jesus. These infant innocents are considered the first Christian martyrs.

 

In medieval England, Christians commemorated the day by whipping their children in bed in the morning. The custom survived into the 17^th century, but thankfully has fallen away. Today, the December 28 is marked as an occasion of childhood merrymaking.

 

Very few American Christians actively observe this holiday in the 21^st Century. But we have plenty of reasons to grieve this Innocent’s Day as people who believe in the sanctity of life from the womb to the tomb:

 

1) Let us mourn the innocents legally aborted each year. The estimate of abortions performed in the United States each year varies, but even the pro-choice Guttmacher Institute reports the number at more than one million. They estimate that 40 million infants are aborted worldwide each year. In addition to stealing a child’s chance at living, these procedures often have deleterious effects on the mothers who participate in them.

 

Abortion as it is performed today is a relatively modern phenomenon, but infanticide is as old as childbirth itself. When Christianity was beginning, disappointed parents would often kill their children by exposing them to the elements. As historian Robin Fox has noted, “Christians opposed much in the accepted practice of the pagan world. They vigorously attacked infanticide and the exposure of children.” In addition to the scriptural basis for protecting life, it is part of our Christian heritage to stand against such a travesty.

 

Today, we mourn those innocents who have been aborted as we work to reduce the number of abortions performed in this country and around the world.

For more, click here.

 

My not holy, and not so innocent daughter shows her Grampa how to work her new microphone.

 

 

 

A couple of weeks ago, I posted on Gospel cum Rock artist Sister Rosetta Thorpe, and how her music, deeply rooted in African American spirituality, went on to influence Elvis Presley, Bob Dylan and Johnny Cash. This week, On The Media replayed a story about the history of the "Happy Birthday" song and sisters Mildred and Patty Hill who created it. Here's an excerpt from the transcript:

 

PROFESSOR BOB BRAUNEIS:  They were way too hot to handle for men of those times. Mildred, the composer, went and sat in the back of black churches and transcribed spirituals because she said they were going to be the backbone of American music of the future. And, if you can imagine [LAUGHS] in the South in the 1890s, taking that attitude, that's just amazing.

PJ VOGT:  We know Mildred believed this because she wrote it down. She wrote an article called, “Negro Music,” under the pseudonym Johann Tonsor, a person she seems to have completely made up.

 

 [MUSIC UP AND UNDER]

 

The composer Dvořák read her article, which we know because it’s in his papers, with scribbles from his kid on it. A few days after reading it, Dvořák started the musical sketches for what became his masterpiece, New World Symphony, considered revolutionary for the inspiration it drew from African-American spirituals.

 

 

You can listen to the whole story below:

 

This got me thinking about how influential Black music has been in the American experience. I found a well-written article by Ethan Goffman on the subject.

 

[African American music] spread through the American public inseemingly inexplicable waves, entities that, without an understanding of their cultural context, seemingly “just grew” from out of nowhere. The major styles can be classified as blues, ragtime, jazz, rhythm and blues, soul, and rap. While each is unique, they have certain elements in common. Each blends African and European musical ideas, always with a strong rhythmic element. Often, outside the culture that creates these styles, they are at first looked down upon as strange, ugly, not really music. Yet repeatedly, they break through the boundaries in which they originated, moving into mainstream America and, ultimately, dispersing around the globe.

 

If you've got some time, read the whole thing. It's like 12 pages long, but it covers the musical styles listed above and is very interesting. Speaking of Black music, let's close this post out on a song from two beautiful Black songstresses, Janelle Monae and Esperanza Spalding with "Dorothy Dandridge Eyes". Have a great Saturday.