Music Monday: French Pop for French Lessons

Hi Meltingpot Readers,

So the push to parlais francais is on. And while I've been watching toddler videos and sometimes switching to the French version on some of my favorite films, I thought about listening to some French music to help me along. Of course I had no idea where to start. And then I remembered.

Way back in the 1980s, somewhere around 1987 I believe, my sister came back from her AFS summer abroad experience in France. I was so in awe. In just three short months she had become totally Frenchified. She ate her French fries with mustard instead of ketchup. She wanted to put raisins in the chicken! And the music. My sis brought back a handful of vinyl records that she played over and over again in her room, while I listened just outside her door. I couldn't understand a single word, yet I fell in love with the music anyway. When she told me that the young singer, Daniel Balavoine had died tragically in a helicopter crash, I was even more impressed. French music. Tragic death. Romance and Drama? As a 13-year-old girl in suburban Milwaukee, wanting to escape her hum-drum existence, Daniel Balavoine gave me a reason to believe.

Here's a song that I used to sing. I could sing this entire song phonetically but had no idea what I was saying. I never saw the video. So, here it is. If anyone would be so kind and tell me what the song is about, I sure would appreciate it. Sadly, my French skills, still aren't that great. Merci!

Black Chefs Rising: Food for Thought

Hello Meltingpot Readers,

I just wrote a story for TheGrio.com on rising culinary star, Nilton Borges, Jr. He's an Afro-Brazilian (which I know can be viewed as redundant) who is making his mark as the executive chef at Amali Restaurant in New York City. Amali is a Mediteranean restaurant, specializing in seasonal, local fare.

I really enjoyed talking to Borges because his 'son of a Black doctor in Brazil with pressure to follow in his father's footsteps, to restaurant worker in the United States' story was fascinating. And familiar. Borges said he had two hurdles to being accepted in fine dining kitchens here in the US, being Black and an immigrant. Please check out the story and leave a comment if you feel so inclined.

And speaking of Black chefs. Did everybody pick up their copy of Marcus Samuelsson's new memoir, Yes, Chef. Finally, we hear the details to his amazing life story from Ethiopia to Sweden to New York City and back again. Samuelsson says his whole life has been about 'chasing flavors.' Sometimes I feel the same way.

Case in point, for my mother's birthday, I prepared a dinner that brought together all of the flavors of my past; Moroccan chicken, rice salad with avocado and oranges, green beans with toasted almonds and a banana pudding with 'Nilla wafers for dessert. Kinky Gazpacho all the way.

Where would you have to go to chase the flavors of your past?

I'm listening.

Peace!

And We're Back...

Hi Meltingpot Readers,

Pardon me for disappearing on ya'll for an entire week. Ms. Meltingpot seriously got sucked into a Southern way of life. I blame it on the heat and the sweet tea and the fried fish galore. I just never managed to even turn on my computer. I kept saying, oh, I can't wait to blog about this or that and then, faster than you can say 'kiss my grits,' it was time to pack up and come home.

Seriously.

Suffice it to say, dear readers, I'm back. I'm relaxed and refreshed and ready to jump back into reporting on the Meltingpot experience. Thanks for sticking around.

I did take this one picture in the bathroom of a tiny cafe we stopped in for lunch, thinking of all of you. It made me think, yeah, I can take a break from the news for just a little bit. Enjoy!

It's Still a Yankee Paper To Us

Whistling Dixie: Ms. Meltingpot is Heading South

Hello Meltingpot Readers,

Ms. Meltingpot is packing up and heading south. Not forever, just for a little respite to officially welcome in the summer. I'm visiting my folks -- who in a fit of madness moved below the Mason Dixie line -- and plan to while away the hours sipping sweet tea, writing and dipping my newly painted toenails into the salty sea water of the Atlantic ocean.

That is my plan. What will probably happen is that I'll be trying to keep my boys from driving me crazy, extracting sand from babygirl's mouth and praying that everyone under age 12 will fall asleep before the sun goes down.

So, stay tuned for my southern tales of adventure, all next week here on the Meltingpot.

Peace!

School's Out! Ms. Meltingpot's Plans for the Summer

Hello Meltingpot Readers,

In just a few short minutes, my boys will burst through the door with all the exuberance and excitement expected from the last day of school. Yes, it's official. Summer is here.

In the Kinky Gazpacho household, summer really is summer because el esposo and I both work in academia, so in theory everybody is free from work. Of course in reality, not so much. El esposo is getting his PhD and this summer he has to study non-stop for his comprehensive exams in early fall. The boys will be in day camp for only three weeks. Babygirl? Well, she'll be passed off between el esposo and I throughout.

But what about me, you ask? What's on my agenda for the summer? Besides camp counselor, chef, chauffeur and babysitter? Well, I'm glad you asked. Here's what I'd like to accomplish before September 1st. And I figure if I write it down here, you guys can keep me on task. Or at least drop a comment or a suggestion once in a while to keep me motivated. So, in no particular order, here's what I have to do this summer:

1. Write the proposal for my next book. Yes, I'm already working on the next book project. It's non-fiction and a significant departure from my previous books and yet the themes of identity and discrimination will ring familiar. Just a hint, the book has to do with the color purple. Not the book, by Alice Walker, but the actual color purple.

2. Upgrade The Meltingpot. Dear, readers, I went to the awesome Blogging While Brown Conference last weekend and was so inspired. I love The Meltingpot. I love you all. If I could quit my day job and just produce awesome stories for this blog, I would. In the meantime, I can at least make the Meltingpot experience a little more user-friendly and unique. So stay tuned for the upgrade.

3. Write a few magazine articles that I've been thinking about for the last couple of months.

4. Learn French. Okay, I already wrote about my dream of learning French a few posts back. Well, I'm on my way. In true Meltingpot style, I checked out a French book & CD from the library. I've been watching some films in French and English and I've found some free online websites to visit that promise me I'll be speaking like a native in no time. (By the way, if anyone can recommend any other online websites for language learning, please let me know. Merci!) Of course, I'm not going to master an entire language in eight weeks, but I want to be comfortable enough that I can represent our family's interests when we ...

5. Go to Montreal! Okay, so, this has gone from dream to reality. We are going to Montreal, come hell or high water. Here's why. I need some place to practice my French and motivate me to keep practicing my French. I want the children to have an experience in a foreign country this summer and we can (inexpensively) reach Montreal by car. And I really want an excuse to eat French fries smothered in gravy, but be able to call it a cultural experience.

6.  Update passports. Can you believe, dear readers, that I have to get passports for all three of my children. I knew babygirl needed a new passport and so I just checked the boys', just in case. Wouldn't you know, they both expire in July. Did I mention operation Montreal happens in August? How do you say poetic justice in French.

So, there you go dear readers. Those are my summer plans. Of course, I didn't mention some sort of exercise should also happen in all this. Running? Walking? Bike riding? Chasing my boys around the park? Swimming? Who knows? But I'm sure it will all be an adventure.

So, what are you all doing for the summer? Please share and inspire us all. I'm listening.

Peace!

Forty, French and Fabulous!

Hi Meltingpot Readers,

I'm not sure if I mentioned that I turned 40 earlier this year. Yes, it's true. I was going to have a grand celebration to recognize this milestone, but then I got too busy and the fact of the matter was, I didn't really think it was such a big deal.

I tried, really I did, to feel some kind of special way on my 40th birthday, but I had to take the baby to the doctor. The boys had homework and I had 20 quizzes to correct. Now, I'd be lying if I said turning 40 didn't give me pause, because it did, but I didn't have any sort of mid-life crisis or desire to leave my husband, inject myself with botox and have an affair with my high-school boyfriend. I didn't lament the passing of time because, let's be honest, these last 40 years have been great. I have three great kids. I have written three great (I think) books. I have a great job doing what I love most in life. And I still think el esposo is pretty darn cute.

And as a matter of fact, when I gave myself a moment to meditate on the idea of turning 40, the thought didn't depress me. I figure 40 is my half-way point. If I live to be 80, I'll be a happy camper. And since I'm a glass half-full kind of girl, I figure that means I have 40 more years to fill with new experiences. That's a lot of living I still have to do. That's like re-living the 40 I've already done, but with new stuff. And that's what I'm excited about. I don't even know yet what I'm going to do with part II of my life. Except one thing. Drum roll please.

I'm going to learn French!

I've always wanted to learn French. I learned a little bit of survival French when I lived in Morocco as an exchange student in high school. I have a vocabulary of about 15 words and phrases that served me well the two or three times I've traveled to France as a tourist. And let it be known, I don't read French at all. You can show me a simple sentence in French and I'll stumble through it like an idiot with a mouth full of marbles. (I still don't really care if I learn how to read French)

I just want to be able to speak what I think is one of the most romantic languages in the world. I just love the way French sounds. I always have. I chose to study Spanish because my sister had already claimed French and I wanted to be different. Well, it's part II of my life now and I say it's time to pursue  that other passion. And the thing is, since I'm going to learn the language for myself, I don't have any pressure. It's all about pleasure. I'm thinking about listening to CDs in my car, finding a language partner to parlais with, and wait for it...we're going to Paris at the end of the summer. NOT!

Dear readers, how I wish a trip to Paris was in my immediate future, but it's not something we can afford right now Five plane tickets? I don't think so. But that doesn't mean we can't drive to a French speaking country. That's right, I'm planning a Kinky Gazpacho family excursion to Montreal at the end of the summer. That will be my inspiration to keep learning.

Okay, dear readers. I need your help. Is there a language program you can suggest? Is the Rosetta Stone really all that? And of course, as the summer goes on, I'd like your suggestions for where to go and what to do in Montreal. With three kids.

I'll keep you posted on my progress. Wish me bon chance. And inspire me with your own stories of personal goals. And you don't have to be 40.

Peace!

Kinky Gazpacho in the NBA

Hola Meltingpot Readers,

Quick. Name a NBA player currently playing in the semi-finals who calls Barcelona, Spain home.

Are you thinking about Pau Gasol? You'd be right. Gasol plays for the Lakers and hails from Barcelona. But there's someone else. Serge Ibaka. Ibaka plays for the Oklahoma Thunder. And while he was born in the Congo, he moved to Spain in his teens, played for Real Madrid and was just granted Spanish nationality last year. So, that makes Ibaka a Black Spaniard in my book.

Dear readers, I am not an NBA fan. I care very little about professional sports, but I am a sucker for a good story and Serge Ibaka has a good story. It's Kinky Gazpacho in the NBA. He's also pretty easy on the eyes. Here's a small documentary about Ibaka's -- aka Air Congo -- life. FYI, it's in Spanish.



For those of you who don't habla español, here's an article that ran in the New York Times about Ibaka.

For those of you who follow the NBA, did you know Ibaka had Spanish nationality? Since his nickname in the league is Air Congo, I don't know how many folks are going to associate him with his adopted country, although if he plays for Spain in the Summer Olympics, that might make a difference. What do you think? Is it fair to call Ibaka a Spaniard? Afro-Spaniard? I'm listening.

Peace!

Chinese in Spain? Tell Me More.

Hola Meltingpot Readers,

I'm up to my eyeballs in research for another talk I'm doing tomorrow on Spain's Black history and current multicultural reality. But the pressure is on, dear readers, because I have to do the talk, wait for it, in Spanish. Yikes! The audience is going to be made up of local Spanish educators and I just know they are going to be judging my accent and waiting for me to screw up the subjunctive. How do I get myself into these things?

But on the bright side, el esposo will be joining me. After I give my speech, el esposo will be addressing the audience on ways to incorporate culture into the Spanish language classroom. This is the first time we've ever done a conference together. I'm kind of liking it. And I'm hoping if I screw up, he'll jump in and save me! He already translated my entire speech for me. I don't know how to be witty in Spanish in an academic setting.

So, where does the Chinese thing come in? Well, even though I'm speaking mostly about Spain's Black history, I'm also trying to get the audience to recognize that Spain has a significant immigrant population, which makes the country far more diverse than many people realize. So, I was just looking for examples and/or stories about the Chinese experience in Spain and I discovered this post from The Lonely Planet. It's not exactly enlightening, but the comments on the post are fascinating. So many of the experiences shared by Asians living in or traveling to Spain mirrored my own. Take a look and tell me what you think. I'd especially like to hear from other Asians who've had experiences in Spain, either positive or negative.

I'm totally listening.

Peace.

Black Beauty Queens Causing Controversy in France

Bonjour Meltingpot Readers,

I was intrigued by the latest racial brouhaha coming out of the city of lights. And, no, I'm not talking about presidential hopeful Francois Hollande using Jay-Z and Kanye West's song in one of his campaign videos. I'm talking about the recent controversy over the first ever Miss Black France competition.

This past Saturday, the lovely Miss Mbathio Beye was crowned the first Miss Black France, despite protesters and critics who cried foul. Depending on who you ask among the dissenters, the idea of a Miss Black France was either a racist competition that excluded Whites or a misguided feel good opportunity that sent the wrong message to a country dealing with a rise in anti-immigrant sentiment. But according to the Miss Black France organizer, the purpose of the competition was to "celebrate black beauty," and to "shine a light on the many Black women in [France] who are rarely given any media attention."

As an American who is used to seeing everything -- from beauty pageants to greeting cards -- segregated and celebrated along racial lines, I initially didn't see anything wrong with a Miss Black France competition. In fact, I saw it as progress, or at the very least an opportunity for Black women to have their beauty acknowledged in a country that's been a little lax in that department. And for the most part, I still feel that way. But knowing that most European countries pride themselves on not being racist simply because they don't acknowledge racial differences, I can see how this Black beauty competition might feel like a step in the wrong direction.

But, you can't have your chocolate cake and eat it too. The French want to say everyone is equal and that they don't distinguish White from Black, and that French is French, but we all know that simply isn't true. (And obviously, this is not just a French problem.) Without going into all of the racial politics in France, we know that people of color still struggle for equal rights and opportunities. The fashion and beauty industries are no exception. So, why can't Black women make their own opportunities? I can't help think of Italian Vogue and their launch of Vogue Black in 2010. The Italians too were criticized for creating a publication that is singularly focused on Black beauty, but that didn't stop them. I hope the French take note. I hope they realize that celebrating one ethnic group doesn't have to mean excluding the other.

What do you think, dear readers? Can France have a Black Beauty competition without causing a commotion? Do you think a Miss Black France is a bad idea? A racist one? Why or why not?

I'm listening.

Peace!

A Meltingpot Book Review & A Giveaway Too: "A Wedding in Haiti"

Hello Meltingpot Readers,

I have a confession to make. When I received my advanced reader's copy of Julia Alvarez's slim new memoir, A Wedding in Haiti, I was not impressed. In fact, I was a little put off by the concept. Alvarez, a prolific and award-winning Dominican poet and novelist, had written a book about her friendship with her Haitian farm worker. The broad brush strokes of the story are that Alvarez befriends young Piti when he comes to work on her organic coffee farm in the Dominican Republic. When Piti comes of age and decides to marry, he invites Alvarez to the wedding which takes place in rural Haiti. Alvarez has to leave the comfort of her home in Vermont to go to the wedding and of course her life is altered by what she experiences in a place that's almost always referred to as the poorest country in the western hemisphere. Cue the violins and call the cliché hotline.

So, I didn't read it. I didn't think I'd have to read it to know how the story begins and ends. What's more, considering Alvarez is Domincan, I guess I expected her to know more about Haiti than her story suggests. And if she really never had visited the country that is attached to her birthplace, I guess I didn't want her to admit that either. At least not out loud. I am a big fan of Alvarez and didn't want to lose respect for her work. So, like I said, I didn't read it.

But dear readers, the book just sat there, mocking me with its pretty cover and the temptation of a good Alvarez read. Finally, one morning, I just picked it up and started reading, figuring I'd put it down if even the slightest hint of "The White Man Learns the Meaning of Life from the Poor Black Man Who Has Nothing Yet Can Still Smile Every Morning," came through the text. But it didn't.

Alvarez is pretty honest about her lack of knowledge about Haiti, as well as her inherent privilege and relative wealth. And it is that honesty that comes through the book as she narrates her journey to the wedding and then a subsequent trip to Haiti post earthquake. As I said, the book is slim, the story covers less than two years, and there is no great aha! moment. Instead, we get a travelogue of a journey most of us will never make because we don't have the resources and because we don't have to. We can send money, rail at the injustice and even pretend things are actually better than they really are in Haiti.

Alvarez doesn't use the book to preach a sermon or shame us readers into flying straight away into Port-au-Prince. She does one better. She allows herself, a middle-aged American college professor with good intentions, to be our eyes and ears in Haiti. She recoils at sights and smells but puts on a brave face because she knows it is the right thing to do. She smiles and uses charades to communicate because she doesn't speak French of Kreyol. She offers what comfort she can, be it a box of spaghetti or a hug to a grieving mother. In a nutshell, Alvarez bears witness to Haiti's despair, but also and just as importantly, to Haiti's dignity.

"We ride into the downtown area, full of ambivalence. To watch or not to watch. What is the respectful way to move through these scenes of devastation? We came to see, and according to Junior, Haiti needs to be seen....You tell yourself you are here in solidarity. But at the end of the day, you add it up and you still feel ashamed...You haven't improved a damn thing. Natural disaster tourism -- that's what it feels like."

Despite its premise and the author's lament, A Wedding in Haiti doesn't feel like natural disaster tourism. On the contrary, this book reads like an honest account of one woman's experience in Haiti. Yes, there is unspeakable poverty and heartache, but there is also humor, love and random acts of kindness that reinvigorate your belief in hope.

This book probably won't change your life. But it might change your opinion about Haiti and the people who live there.

If you'd like to win a free hardcover copy of A Wedding in Haiti, tell me what you think about when you think of Haiti in the comments section. I'll randomly select a winner from the comments on Thursday, April 26 at midnight.

Peace!

Say What? Wednesday: A "Nigger" Cake is Served in Sweden

Hello Meltingpot Readers,

Has anybody out there heard about this scandalous story regarding the minister of culture in Sweden eating a "nigger cake?" Say what? You heard me, dear readers. That's what the cake is called and it was in the shape of a naked African woman. The cake was frosted with dark chocolate icing and upon cutting into it, a red velvet cake was revealed. Here's a link for more about how the story was initially portrayed. Prepare to be outraged.

Now dear readers, I am not so ignorant as to think that the entire country of Sweden is run by a group of gleeful racists who like to eat offensive cakes. So, I tried to find the true story behind this cake. Apparently, the cake was a piece of performance art meant to bring attention to the practice of female genital mutilation. Here's a link to an opinion piece penned for Ebony.com that explains the artist's intentions as well as the success or lack thereof of his work. There's a video on that link to show the artist at work. And over at racialicious.com they've got a brief interview with the artist, Makode Aj Linde, who happens to be an Afro-Swede. In other words, he's Black. He stands by his work and said, "it's sad if people feel offended."



What do you think, dear readers? Are you offended?  Did Aj Linde succeed in his mission, or was this an epic fail?

I'm so listening.

Peace!

Because Black and Spanish Sounds So Good: Concha Buika

Hola Meltingpot Readers,

Yesterday I gave my lecture at Rowan University on the Black experience in Spain. Afterwards there was a reception and book signing and everyone started reminiscing about their travels to the Iberian peninsula. I got so "Spain sick." So, to soothe my Spanish soul I'm listening to Concha Buika. Why don't you join me?



Peace!

Negro, Negrita, Morena: What is it Like to Be Black in Spain?

Hello Meltingpot Readers,


I need your help. I'm working on a lecture for a university audience about being Black in Spain. Much of the discussion will be about my own experience living in Salamanca, traveling around the country, and of course, visiting my in-laws in Andalucia. I will also discuss my findings of African slaves in the Iberian peninsula. But every time I give this talk, I feel like I'm doing a bit of a disservice.

How can I, one person, speak for the totality of the Black experience in Spain? Obviously, I can not. And I don't pretend to, and yet, invariably people want to take what I say and claim it is The Truth. It is only my Truth. So, I'm asking you today, dear readers, to chime in with your own experiences. If you happen to be Black or Brown, and have travelled to Spain, either recently or many years ago, would you mind telling me in a word or two how was your experience? How were you treated? Did you feel the love or did you feel unwanted? Did you fall in love with the culture? Why or why not? Compared to your experiences traveling to other countries, where does Spain fit?

Clearly, I'm not looking for one answer, I'd just like to pepper my talk with the variety of experiences that I know people have had. Everything helps. Thanks for sharing. And in the meantime, if you'd like to read about the Black experience in Spain, besides my experience, here are some websites and blogs that might be of interest.

Afro-Europe: Black Women in Spain Today
Being Black in Spain: A Current Student's Perspective

And below, check out the video from BlackAtlas.com about Madrid.

Hasta Pronto!

Third Culture Kids: Neither Here Nor There

Hi Meltingpot Readers,

Thanks to an announcement from the folks at Loving Day, I heard about this film about Third-Culture Kids. I'd never heard this term before, but it refers to people who grow up in a country/culture that is not their home country. The short documentary is appropriately titled, Neither Here Nor There. Here's a description of the film:

"Neither Here Nor There" is a 35 minute documentary that explores cultural identity for people who have grown up in places other than their home culture, known as Third Culture Kids. Through the stories of six subjects, the film investigates the often overlooked effects on adults who had international upbringings, their struggles to fit in and an eternal search to belong. 

Check out the trailer.



It kind of makes you think, right? Are you a Third Culture Kid? What do you think the rest of us don't know about your experience?

I'm listening.

Peace!

Can You Say Salsa in Hebrew?

Hello Meltingpot Readers,

Here's another reason why I love the NPR show, Tell Me More. Today while listening, I heard about the Israel Film Festival, happening now in Los Angeles. Normally, I probably wouldn't have bothered to investigate further. I'm not that into Israeli films. Let's be honest, I just don't know enough about Israeli films to be into them. Well, I might now.

Peep this trailer for a film called Salsa Tel Aviv. It's about a Mexican salsa dance instructor who goes to Israel to teach salsa dancing. She decides to enter the country disguised as a nun in order to sneak through customs. Hilarity ensues, as does a little romance. It sounds like the perfect Meltingpot mash-up. Check it out.




So, people, what do you think? Do you want to see it? Do you have any other Israeli films you think we should talk about here on the Meltingpot?

I'm listening.

Shalom!

Memoirs to Movies: The Eat, Pray, Love Effect

Hi Meltingpot Readers,

Happy Monday. I know I'm only a year late on this one, but you all know that I watch movies when the DVD makes it to my local library. So, when I saw Eat, Pray, Love in the New Additions box last week, I snatched it up.

So, here's the deal. I had no real interest in seeing Eat, Pray, Love in the theater because, while I enjoyed the book immensely, I didn't see it translating to the big screen in any sort of powerful way. Plus the reviews were brutal. I mean, the story is all pretty much internal, so how do you show that? I plucked it up from the library because I wanted to see the gorgeous locals mentioned in the book.

As I suspected, that actual plot of the movie, pretty much follows the "plot" of the book. That is to say, a deeply unhappy woman who has made several mistakes in her personal life, decides to live in Italy, India and Bali to try to find "balance." Like I said, as a book, where we can read the internal dialogue of the author, Elizabeth Gilbert, the story is both inspiring and enlightening. As a movie, can you say snore? I could have put the movie on mute and just oogled the beautiful scenery. And, yes I count Javier Bardem as part of the beautiful scenery!

I loved the addition of Viola Davis as Gilbert's sister-in-law. Way to go color-blind casting! But of course, without altering the story tremendously, they couldn't have her in the film too much. I thought it was a mistake to ignore the fact that Gilbert was traveling in order to write a book. It made it seem that Gilbert just had oodles of money and free time to follow her bliss, which wasn't the point. That was a distraction for me.

I think a better idea for turning this book into a movie would have been a documentary travel special, visiting the locations in the book. Then we could have more insight and information about the ashram in India, the restaurants in Rome and the temples and beaches in Bali. My take away from the film as it was, was, 'when can I book a trip to Bali?' It looked so beautiful and peaceful.

So, dear readers, I was left with the depressing conclusion that memoirs make boring movies. Why is this depressing? Because the film rights to my memoir, Kinky Gazpacho, have been optioned and it looks like the film will soon be in the works. I was excited, but now I'm a little worried about the Eat, Pray, Love effect.

Can you put my mind at ease? Can you think of any memoirs turned movie that you really enjoyed? Please share. I'm totally listening.

Peace!

The Culture of Resistance: Be Inspired

Hi Meltingpot Readers,

You know when you're feeling frustrated at your life circumstances or perhaps you're allowing yourself to indulge a bit into self-pity because sometimes things just seem to be going wrong? Not to negate the possibility of your own real-life drama, but after watching a film like, Cultures of Resistance, I dare say you will find yourselves inspired.

"CULTURES OF RESISTANCE explores how art and creativity can be ammunition in the battle for peace and justice.

Featuring: Medellín poets for peace, Capoeira masters from Brazil, Niger Delta militants, Iranian graffiti artists, women’s movement leaders in Rwanda, Lebanon’s refugee filmmakers, U.S. political pranksters, indigenous Kayapó activists from the Xingu River, Israeli dissidents, hip-hop artists from Palestine, and many more. "

I've only seen the trailer for the film and read everything I can get my hands on about it, but there is going to be a screening and discussion in Philadelphia next month that I hope to be able to attend. Truth be told, I was first attracted to the film, only because I read that the director was a Brazilian woman of Korean heritage and that intrigued me. I'm glad I investigated further because the subject matter of the film, is fascinating. Wouldn't you agree?


Cultures of Resistance:  The Official Trailer from Cultures of Resistance on Vimeo.


Have any of you, dear readers, seen Cultures of Resistance? Were you inspired? Be the change you want to be!

Peace!

"The Tooth Fairy Left Me a Euro!:" The Benefits of Bicultural Family Life

Hello Meltingpot Readers,

I have a confession to make. The Tooth Fairy in our Kinky Gazpacho household is a bit absentminded. Sometimes she forgets to come. There have been occasions when it has taken the Tooth Fairy four nights before she showed up to pick up a precious tooth.

Lucky for el esposo and I, our children are extremely forgiving. In fact, they usually resort to the naughty or nice Santa play book and assume the reason the Tooth Fairy has been lax in her duties is because of something they've done wrong. I don't exactly deny their assumptions because it usually gets them to correct any deviant behavior they've been displaying without any reminders from me. It's a win-win situation.

Well, the other day, my seven-year old lost his first top tooth. It had been wobbly and dangling for ages and it finally popped out in the midst of a pillow fight with his brother. Needless to say, the excitement for the Tooth Fairy to come was high, as evidenced by his delicate placing of the tooth under his pillow and placing himself flush against the wall as far away from said tooth as possible. "So the Tooth Fairy doesn't have to move my heavy head when she comes," my son explained in all seriousness. (Please note: my kids are 'dentally immature' and at seven and a half, this is only his second lost tooth.)

So, el esposo and I both smiled at this cute child and promised ourselves with a shared look over his head that the Tooth Fairy would absolutely come that night.

But we forgot! I'd like to say it was because something came up, but really, we're just bad.

So the next night, el esposo and I knew we couldn't mess up again. We couldn't disappoint this hopeful child of ours. Once all of the children were fast asleep, I turned to el esposo and implored him not to forget to place the dollar under the child's pillow.
"I don't have a dollar," el esposo said.
"I don't either," I said, panicking. I checked my phone for the time. It was after 10pm. It was freezing outside. And I already had my jammies on. I searched through all of my pockets, the bottom of my purse, but all I came up with was lint and an old piece of gum.
"Can we give him a dollar in pennies?" I asked, eyeing our jar of coins we'd been saving for over a year.
El esposo nixed that idea.
I opened my music box where I sometimes hide money for emergencies. It was filled with money. But it was all foreign from my travels.
"Can we give him a Euro?" I asked, half joking.
El esposo grabbed a coin from my stash. "He's getting a Euro and we'll tell him el Ratoncito Perez brought it from Spain."
(Yes, in Spain the Tooth Fairy is a mouse.)
I didn't know if my son would buy this, but I didn't have any other options.

The next morning, this is what I heard.: "The Tooth Fairy left me a Euro!"
He didn't care that the money was from another country. In fact, when he found out the Euro is worth more than a dollar, he was even more excited. He thought the Tooth Fairy loved him more since she gave him the equivalent of say, $1.25 USD. He promptly added the coin to his piggy bank and announced. "Now I have money for when we go to Spain." And then he started wiggling his other front tooth.

Ahh, the benefits of living in a bicultural household. What does the Tooth Fairy leave your children? I read this great article in the New York Times recently about alternative Tooth Fairy ideas and got a chuckle. You might too.

Peace!

Black Women in Paris: A New Novel Takes You There

Hello Meltingpot Readers,

I've only been to Paris a couple of times for short, day-long visits. But I'd be a liar if I didn't admit that the city has fascinated and called me to her for years. Josephine Baker was my first inspiration, as well as many of the Black artists and writers who sought solace and inspiration in France when America's preoccupation with race became too much. Lately, I've been dreaming about taking my kids to Paris. It could happen.

Well, with Paris deeply on my mind, you can imagine my delight and surprise to stumble on author Jacqueline Luckett's new novel, Passing Love. It's a story about two Black American women at two different times in history, who chase their destiny in the City of Lights.

Here's a description of the book from Luckett's website:

"Nicole-Marie Handy has loved all things French since she was a child. After the death of her best friend, determined to get out of her rut, she goes to Paris, leaving behind a marriage proposal. While there, Nicole chances upon an old photo of her father-lovingly inscribed, in his hand, to a woman Nicole has never heard of. What starts as a vacation quickly becomes an investigation into his relationship to this mystery woman. Moving back and forth in time between the sparkling Paris of today and the jazz-fueled city filled with expatriates in the 1950s, Passing Love is the story of two women dealing with lost love, secrets, and betrayal...and how the City of Light may hold all of the answers. "


Sounds good, doesn't it? But there's more to the story than that. Check out the excellent review from Publisher's Weekly to find out more about what the story really deals with; race, the expat experience, family secrets. Also, check out the great Q&A with Luckett on the White Readers Meet Black Authors website. 


Oh, it sound like the perfect book to start off 2012. What about you dear readers? What book will start off your 2012? I'm listening.


Peace!

Happy to be Nappy?: Not in Brazil

Hi Meltingpot Readers,

I've got another hair story for you. This time coming from our sisters in South America. In Brazil to be exact. My co-author from Hair Story, Ayana Byrd, tipped me off to this incredible story from the website BlackWomenofBrazil. Be prepared to be outraged.

Apparently, after two decades in the Brazilian court system, Sony Music has finally been ordered to pay damages for a song they released that was deemed racist and offensive to Black women. Now I expected to read about a song that perhaps used a version of the N-word in Portuguese or had violent lyrics directed towards women. But nothing I could have imagined could have prepared me for the lyrics in this song. Here take a look for yourselves:

"A representative for Sony maintained that the song was not intended to offend women and that the artist was in fact alluding to his own wife in the song and that the terms used in the song are used by Brazilians in reference to not only black women but white women as well."

Below are some of the lyrics of the song in Portuguese and English:

Veja veja veja veja veja os cabelos dela (4x)
(Look look look look look at her hair (4x)

Parece bom-bril*, de ariá panela
(It looks like a scouring pad for pots and pans)

Parece bom-bril, de ariá panela
(It looks like a scouring pad for pots and pans)

Quando ela passa, me chama atenção
(When she goes by, she catches my attention)

Mas os seus cabelos, não tem jeito não
(But her hair just isn’t right)

A sua catinga quase me desmaiou
(Her stench almost made me faint)

Olha eu não aguento, é grande o seu fedor
(Look, I can’t take it, her smell is so bad)

Veja veja veja veja veja os cabelos dela
(Look look look look look at her hair)

Parece bom-bril, de ariá panela (2x)
(It looks like a scouring pad for pots and pans) (2x)

Eu já mandei, ela se lavar
(I told her to take a bath)

Mas ela teimo, e não quis me escutar
(But she’s stubborn and doesn’t listen to me)

Essa nega fede, fede de lascar
(This black woman stinks, she stinks horribly)

Bicha fedorenta, fede mais que gambá
(Stinking beast, smells worse than a skunk)


I know. It's revolting. I can't believe this was a 'popular' tune released by a major music corporation like Sony. I also can't believe a man with a Black mother -- yes you heard me -- could pen such insulting lyrics. Really? To read the whole sordid tale of the song and the lawsuit, please visit the Black Women in Brazil website. And then go rinse the vomit out of your mouth.


Happy Friday.


Peace!