Independence Day, Freedom and One More Black Chef

Hercules
photo by Virginia.org

Happy Fourth of July, Meltingpot Readers!

I don't know about you, but as an adult, the Fourth of July just isn't as much fun as it was when I was a child. Growing up, the 4th was my favorite holiday. We decorated our bikes, participated in the neighborhood parades, played old-fashioned games at the park and ate ice cream. At night, it was a big family bar-b-cue followed by fireworks down by the lake.

Now that we live in Philadelphia, the birthplace of the nation, you'd think the 4th would be an even bigger deal, but somehow the thrill is gone for me. And part of the reason is that when we talk about celebrating our independence, the great hypocrisy of an independent nation with enslaved individuals as the backbone of the country's success, just doesn't sit well with me. What are we truly celebrating?

But, I'm not mad. I love this country and the independent spirit that defines it. And like I always do, I have found the way to honor 'my people' and their unique contributions to independence. So, instead of praising the founding fathers who saw fit to reduce their slaves to less than human status in their declaration of independence, I am celebrating the Black men and women who fought for their own independence, instead of waiting for it.

Since I have Black chefs on the mind and George Washington is kind all over the 4th of July holiday, I'm celebrating the life and courage of Washington's excellent (enslaved) chef, Hercules. Known only by his first name, Hercules ruled the presidential kitchen with an iron skillet, replaced the previous White chef because his culinary skills were just that good, and was a budding entrepreneur who enjoyed a respected status in Free Black society in 18th century Philadelphia. But still, he was slave and that didn't sit well with him. So he planned and executed a flawless escape. He fled on Washington's 65th birthday, never to be heard from again. Now that's freedom and independence I can celebrate. To read more about Hercules, and his culinary genius, check out this link.

And however you celebrate this day, make it a good one! BTW, we're having tacos for dinner before the fireworks. That's the Meltingpot way.

Peace!

W. Kamu Bell Brings the Funny to Race, Politics and Black Hair

Hello Meltingpot Readers,

Have you heard of comedienne W. Kamu Bell? Once again I was over at Racialicious when I stumbled across this great article about Bell, who is about to get his own comedy news show --produced by Chris Rock -- on the FX. I can't believe I've never heard of Bell until now, especially since his brand of humor is so Meltingpot ready. And because he has great hair. One of his most famous shows is called, Ending Racism in About an Hour. In that show he covers interracial dating, Black hair, and all things Obama. *squeal*

Rather than try to explain how funny he is, how about you just take a look and laugh for yourself. Both clips are from the Ending Racism show.

Here's Bell on Black hair:


Here's Bell on Interracial Relationships.

The Black Man's Code for Children: A Dad's Perspective on Trayvon Martin

Hi Meltingpot Readers,

Thank you all so much for the thoughtful comments on my last post about Trayvon Martin. I don't have time today to respond to them all, but I have read each one. It is heartening to know that other people believe we shouldn't burden our youngest children with the fear of 'walking while Black.' Instead, we should give them time to grow up before informing them of the ugliness that resides in the world.

That being said, I wanted to call attention to the following article, written by AP writer, Jesse Washington, which provides the opposite viewpoint to the matter. Albeit reluctantly, Washington told his son about the Black Male Code of Conduct after news of the Trayvon Martin case broke. Here's an excerpt of what he wrote.

" I thought my son would be much older before I had to tell him about the Black Male Code. He's only 12, still sleeping with stuffed animals, still afraid of the dark. But after the Trayvon Martin tragedy, I needed to explain to my child that soon people might be afraid of him."


To read the rest of Jesse's story, which also includes the viewpoints of other Black men who felt they had to explain "the code," to their sons, follow this link.


I'm curious if Jesse's perspective changes anyone's mind? Do we need to protect our sons or can we safely keep them 'ignorant.?' It probably isn't an either or question. I say it still really depends on the child's age and maturity level, as well as their level of independence in the world. Ultimately, every parent has to decide how they want to raise their children, but it sure is complicated and of course, nobody wants to mess up.


Thoughts? I'm still listening.


Peace!

The Tragedy of Trayvon Martin: A Mother's Perspective, A Meltingpot Perspective

Hello Meltingpot Readers,

I've been avoiding you. I've been avoiding this topic. Sometimes I just want to hide from the news and hope it will all just go away. But of course it won't. And hiding doesn't help.

So, let's get to it.

If for any reason you don't know who Trayvon Martin is, I'll just send you here to read the facts of the story. I think it goes without saying, that the greatest tragedy in this case is that a child -- yes, a 17-year-old is a child -- had his life violently stolen from him. His final moments on this earth were spent at the hands of a deranged and evil man. His mother and father now have to wake up every single morning for the rest of their lives knowing that their son died alone and afraid.

That is the tragedy of this story.

Now comes the injustice.

The man who murdered Trayvon, George Zimmerman, is not in jail. He's not in police custody. He's walking the streets of Florida a free man. With a gun! The same gun he used to assassinate  an unarmed 17-year-old. I cannot wrap my mind around that fact. Let's review. Man follows teen around the neighborhood because he suspects he's up to 'no good.' Teen does nothing but walk while Black. Zimmerman confronts teen, shoots him dead, tells police what he did, witnesses confirm the facts and he's still not in jail. This is the most insane miscarriage of justice I've ever heard. Zimmerman claims he was acting in self-defense -- using Florida's insane Stand Your Ground Law as protection -- and that's that. He's free.

So, using Zimmerman's logic, the good citizens of Florida can walk around killing people who they deem to be dangerous, based entirely on stereotypes and perceived threats. How is that law supposed to protect people? It sounds like a path to anarchy and vigilantism.

What To Tell Our Children?

A reader asked me -- since I previously posted about racism being too stressful to talk to kids about -- how to explain the Trayvon Martin tragedy to kids. And it's taken me a while to figure it out myself.

Okay, here's the Meltingpot Mother answer to that question. Feel free to agree or disagree at will. With the anger and grief I feel about this case, I admit, it's been very difficult to know what to say to my kids about this. I don't want to scare them and I don't want them to carry this burden. My two brown boys are 10 and seven. And in consultation with el esposo, we have decided not to tell them about Trayvon Martin. They don't watch the news and it has not been discussed at school. If they do hear about Trayvon, I will tell them that a young boy was senselessly murdered by a crazy man. I will not bring race into the story. Here's why.

I remember watching a documentary about nuclear war when I was about 10 years old. It scared me so badly, I had nightmares for years. I knew nuclear war was a real threat and I also knew I could do nothing to prevent it from happening. I lived in such terror because of that film. I wasn't ready for that knowledge. Likewise, if I tell my sons, that people shoot Black boys because they are racist, because people think Black boys are violent and delinquent, or simply because they can, what are my sons supposed to do with that information except fear for their life? I think that's my job. Which after this incident, I fear even more. But I'm an adult and I can handle it. They are children.

How do I want my boys to move through this world? Fearful and eventually angry? No. I want them to embrace life and all of its wonderful possibilities. I don't want them to be afraid to walk to the store to buy candy or travel outside of their comfort zones. But I'm not stupid either. I am aware of the world we live in and --now more than ever. I know people like George Zimmerman exist in abundance. So, while I don't couch it in terms of race or violence, I don't let my sons wear certain clothes. I demand a certain level of courtesy and behavior in public that they probably think is overkill, but I think is cautionary. I don't let them play with guns. Ever. Because, sadly, a little brown boy playing with a water gun, can be mistaken for a killer.

George Zimmerman already stole one childhood, he's not going to steal two more. As my sons age, I will begin to feed them more of the real story. I plan to give them age appropriate doses of racial reality. It's kind of like the sex talk. You don't tell your seven year olds -- I hope -- everything about sex. You give them the sanitized version. As they approach puberty you start getting into the details. You can start having nuanced and sometimes uncomfortable conversations about sex as your child matures and starts experiencing some of the things you've been talking about. It's a model I use for the race talks. I encourage others to try this method of thinking. What are your kids able to handle? Would you tell your eight-year-old daughter about birth-control pills and STD's? Probably not, because she's not going to need that information for several years and you might scare the bejeezus out of her.

Some people might disagree with me and that's quite okay. But I believe in preserving the innocence of children as long as possible so that they have time to form a solid sense of self-identity before that identity is attacked by society. A strong foundation is the key to a stable sense of self-worth. Burden a child with the horrors of this world when they're too young and you poke holes in that foundation.

I'd love to hear how others are talking about Trayvon to their children.

I'm so listening.

Peace!

My Beef with Bridesmaids

Hi Meltingpot Readers,

I hope all of you had a wonderful Thanksgiving holiday. I did. We ate, a lot. We laughed and talked and just enjoyed being with family. And then we came home, put the kids to bed and watched a movie. My parents have cable so we had a wide selection of films to choose from. Seven of us were watching and the consensus was to see the film Bridesmaids.

Trust me in that I wasn't expecting anything revolutionary or even that spectacular. I just expected a good laugh. And people, I laughed. A lot. There were some really hilarious one-liners and physical comedy. The story line was quite predictable but it was about as intricate as my food-addled brain could handle last night.

But here's the problem I did have. Here's what pissed me off. The bride in Bridesmaids was played by Maya Rudolph. Maya Rudolph is mixed, some might just call her Black, because her mother --who happens to be the singer, Minnie Ripperton -- was Black. In the movie, they made her father Black. He appeared in the film in two brief scenes, other than that, this was the whitest movie ever. In other words, the movie's conceit was that here you have this Mixed chick with a dreadlocked Black father, yet all of her friends and even her fiance are White. Not a single bridesmaid is Black. That means she has no Black friends. Ok, that's possible. But that would mean she also had no Black family. Maybe her father was an orphan?

So, we can put Maya Rudolph in a movie, but we're going to pretend that her cinnamon brown skin is irrelevant. Why, Hollywood? Black actresses can't even play second-string bridesmaids? I am pulling out my hair as I write this. And this isn't about affirmative-action casting. I'm not saying that every movie should have Black people in it. If this was a movie about a White bride, I wouldn't be saying, she SHOULD have at least one Black friend. But this film featured a Black bride --granted she was from Milwaukee. Statistically speaking, there would more than likely be at least one colored girl in the mix.

Am I crazy? Someone talk me down here.

In the meantime, enjoy this clip from Maya's mom, Minne Ripperton.



Peace!

Slaves in the President's House

Hello Meltingpot Readers,

Today I went to visit "The President's House" in Center City, Philadelphia. The President's House is where George Washington and John Adams resided in the years of their respective presidencies (approximately 1790-1800). The actual house itself has long since been demolished but some archaeologists recently discovered some pieces of the house's foundation. And not just any parts, but the slave quarters where our first president kept his slaves, essentially in the basement.

Once discovered, the City of Brotherly Love had a hard time deciding how to display this historic artifact, paying homage to our first president, but also pointing out that he was a slave owner who really had no interest in freeing his human bondage. What's more, Washington deliberately rotated his slaves back and forth between his Virginia plantation and his Philadelphia home, to ensure they could not take advantage of the law that allowed any Black person in residence in Philadelphia for more than six months to be free.

So, the resulting exhibit in Philadelphia is open to the public and cleverly displayed, considering they had very little actual artifacts to work with, but there's something missing. We call this exhibit "The President's House," but the actual bricks and mortar that were discovered are pieces of "The Slave Quarters," and yet nowhere in the signage or display is there a sign that indicates that. Don't get me wrong, the slaves have not been forgotten in the exhibit, but can't we just lay it all out on the table? It seems we're still trying to whitewash history.

(sigh)

Ebony Magazine: It's Not Just for Black People Anymore

Hi Meltingpot Readers,

How many of you are loyal readers of Ebony magazine? How many of you grew up in a house where the latest issue of Ebony was always on the coffee table? I did. Ebony magazine was like the Life magazine for Black people. But even as a child it felt old and dated. It was definitely my parents' magazine. The only sections I regularly read were the cartoons and the Ebony Advisor -  the Dear Abby for desperate Black people.

As soon I left my parents' home, I stopped reading Ebony. In fact, I stopped thinking about Ebony. The Black world that Ebony covered had nothing to do with the Black life I wanted to lead. So, I read Essence instead. Essence and Glamour and Sassy and Marie Claire and all of the other typical women's magazines meant to tell me how to think, dress, love, eat and style my hair. And that was all fine for awhile. But then, as I settled into the life I live now, with children, a home, a Spanish husband, a complicated spiritual life, a career, etc, I was searching for a magazine that could speak to all parts of me. And people, imagine my surprise when I rediscovered Ebony magazine.

I'm not being totally honest. I knew Ebony went through a major metamorphosis in the last few years. They were almost shuttered, have gone through several new editors, a couple of re-designs and a true existential crisis trying to decide if a Black lifestyle magazine was even necessary in a post-racial, Obamaified America.  But I wasn't ready to believe in a new Ebony just because they were new and improved. I waited for awhile before giving them another chance. I wanted their new editor-in-chief, Amy DuBois Barnett to get her game on before I took a peek. And people, I'm really excited about this new Ebony. The new Ebony seems to get me.

Case in point, this month's issue (Oct. 2011) has articles about gay Black parents, about a Black Buddhist,  some great fashion pages, and a really great spread on famous people and their off-beat collections. As well as an interesting profile on Ambassador Susan Rice. The culture pages include books I want to read and films I'm definitely going to see. I read the issue cover to cover. A few months ago, I believe it was the May 2011 issue, they dedicated half the editorial space to dissecting biracial America.

I'm giving Barnett a huge round of applause for bringing Ebony into the 21st century and for showcasing in the magazine's pages, the diversity of the Black American experience. She's doing this with the help of some great writers too, writers themselves who exemplify the great range of Black thought. For the first time, I would say that Ebony isn't a magazine just for Black people. Now it's a magazine about Black people, for anyone interested in great editorial content.

I'm curious if anyone else has been reading the new Ebony? What do you think? Any non-Black people reading? What made you pick up a copy?

I'm listening.

Peace.

P.S. Jen Marshall Duncan is the winner of the "Same Family, Different Color" t-shirt. Jen, send an email to myamericanmeltingpot@gmail.com to claim your prize. Congrats!

Black Woman in the Badlands -- A Book Review

Hi Meltingpot Readers,

I just finished an awesome novel called, The Personal History of Rachel DuPree by Ann Weisgarber. Once again I was drawn in by the arresting cover of a Black woman in a white dress, presumably somewhere out on some prairie. I quickly read the jacket cover and was struck by the final paragraph:

Reminiscent of The Color Purple as well as the frontier novels of Laura Ingalls Wilder and Willa Cather, The Personal History of Rachel DuPree opens a window on the little-known history of African American homesteaders and gives voice to an extraordinary heroine who embodies the spirit that built America.

Okay, so any book that is compared to both The Color Purple and Little House on the Prairie, immediately has me hooked. What a juxtaposition, right? And I wasn't disappointed. The book tells the story of Rachel DuPree, who at age 25 works as a cook in a Black-owned boarding house in Chicago. Originally from Louisiana, her father was a slave, but the family moved North for better prospects. Although she had to quit school in the eighth grade, Rachel has great expectations for herself and without giving too much away, ends up marrying the educated son of the boardinghouse owner. Together the two of them go stake their claim for 160 acres of land in South Dakota as part of the Homestead Act.

By the time we meet Rachel, many years have past since she left Chicago and she's become a frontier woman. Her earlier years are told in flashback, but the action that keeps the pages turning revolves around survival in the Badlands. Drought, harsh winters, hunger, sick cattle, and hungry children are all part of every day life. What's not a big issue, refreshingly, is racism. I mean it underlies the choices that Rachel and her husband make, but really it is the story of every American who wanted to use the land to make something of him or herself. I just loved it because these were Black people in a situation that we never see Black people in. We don't hear this part of the Black American experience. I read the book in chunks every night and then found myself imagining myself in Rachel's shoes the next day as I weeded my puny garden, fed my kids and wondered if the baby I'm carrying in my belly would be harmed when I had to go outside to close our garage in the middle of a wicked storm last week. You know, man against nature and all that. (Note: Rachel is very pregnant when the story opens. So I felt especially kindred).

The book is incredibly well written, the characters unique and the voices believable. The sensory descriptions of the drought will have you spitting grit as you read along. Even though I knew the author was White, by the end of the book I had to check again to make sure as she really captured, not only Rachel's voice but her inner-most thoughts as well. Which I guess goes to show how universal the human experience really is, despite the color of our skin.

Read this book! You won't be disappointed.

Peace.