Earlier this month I published a blog for my organization that outlined the monolithic and capricious way America celebrates Black history – with decontextualized, corporate commercials and signage that limits the scope of identifiable, progressive Blackness to a single heritage month. With that discussion, came the suggestion to explore Blackness and experiences with Blackness with more care, paying attention to the uncomfortable but important details that mantle the plight of the black experience in America. 

Although I won’t share it in its entirety, my experience is first hand. It is also acutely intersectional. I want to preface it by acknowledging that my privilege both allows me to tell of my experience and use technology to share it with the world.

As a Black, queer feminist, my experience with Blackness has been multi-faceted. It has proven to be both sentimentally joyful and heart wrenchingly painful – an antagonistic relationship between several identities vying to occupy space in the same body. The mental elasticity it has taken to not compartmentalize myself into biddable parts is chokingly exhausting. My identities are not mutually exclusive. Although I’ve been relegated to a social deviant by some and an angry Black woman by many, I’ve managed to forge my way into a non-compliant existence where I believe my voice is being marginally heard and sometimes appreciated. The space in-between is where my privilege ends and my identity becomes a knotty annoyance that consigns me to the likeness of a quietly reprimanded child. In exploring my Blackness, it has become real to me that many believe I am not an expert in my own experiences – that others can tell my story better than I can. 

You’ve been told about my experiences a thousand times. Politicians and the media have deconstructed my existence, peeled back my layers, and put me on display for centuries. They say I’m a self-sabotaging, resource draining welfare queen. I’m the parent of many but a mother to few. I’m lazy, undeserving, sexually insatiable, exploitive, and I know little about myself and my body. I’m uneducated, ill-mannered, and a drain on society –so are my children. If I do manage to beat these odds, I am difficult and irrational. I am successful but only marginally so because I am unmarried and unable to find a man who is willing to compromise his sanity to be my partner. I am lonely and sad.

For me, none of this is true. This woman is mythical – as real as the mermaid unicorn hybrid that puts a dollar under your pillow and presents under your tree. But this is my experience with Blackness. It is countering the narrative of a story that is told on my behalf so I can’t tell my real story; the story of a self-sufficient, resilient, loving, and appreciated Black woman who is tangible and human. The story of a woman who is sex positive, practices yoga, and has made the self-determined and conscious choice to both be queer and not yet a parent.

When I was a teenager, my dad used to tell me that going into the world I had two strikes against me: my womanism and my Blackness. That later became three strikes when I outed myself to my parents as queer. While his ideology was correct in that my plight would sometimes be difficult, I later found those strikes were not strikes at all but instead stories, stories whose narratives had to be explored and eventually changed.

Exploration can be defined as the search for information or resources. Blackness, in all of its nuanced complexity, cannot be completely exhaustive in its existence because there are stories and legacies that have never been told. Also the Black experience that is shared with the world, has been deceitfully documented by people who have a vested interest in hiding the truth. We have the power to explore the richness of the identities of Black people and the cultural implications of Black legacies by divulging our experiences. This divulgence includes the thoughtful art of appreciating identity without appropriating it – more on this later.

Although these experiences vary in their involvedness they have a similar significance in needing to be discussed and shared. There is an inherent intricacy to sharing second-hand experiences with Blackness that often leaves non-Black people apprehensive (and sometimes not so apprehensiveness as with my story). The thorny history of Blacks in America and the subsequent marginalization leaves little room for error, even folks in America who identify as Black can find it difficult to explore and share their experiences. 

If you want to follow the Exploration of Blackness series in it’s entirety it can be found here.

I have had this necklace for a couple of years but only wear it on occasion – not sure why, it’s a great piece! I bought it from Express when they had a random sale on African inspired jewlery (look out for a post on the appropriation v. appreciation of African garb.) I don’t traditionally shop at Express – too pricey and limited of options for women with curves but for under $5 I thought this neckwear was a steal.

It’s a great staple piece to wear with Earth tones. Today I paired it a sheer, knit, moss green top, a brass wrist cuff and my staple brass colored peace earrings. It would also be a great  accent piece for a simple black dress.

I haven’t seen any other pieces like this at Express but if you’re interested and live in the Bay Area, there a couple of stores that sell similar pieces and are owned by Afrcan people. Get some cute  accessories and support local people of color – win win!

Check out:

Arts Africains
5616 Bay Street
Emeyville, Ca 94608

Sankofa African Arts & Jewlery
120 Frank Ogawa Plaza
Oakland, Ca 94612

SN: I uploaded this post from my phone using the new WordPress app. Fuzzy phone pics but great for on the go posting.

Like so many other plights of people of color in America, Black tattoo artists have struggled to forge their way into an industry where they were not wanted. Creative caste aways, they were forced to build from the ground up and to create a niche industry that catered to their unique needs as artists of color.

Despite their talent, through the 80s Black artist were denied apprenticeships and other opportunities to hone their skills. Their aptness did not exclude them from the humiliation of racial prejudice.

Color Outside the Lines documents the struggles of Black tattoo artists in their journey to success despite racial barriers and is inspired by world renowned artist, Miya Bailey.

Most importantly, my brother, Kirk and his tattoo shop, Effum Bodyworks [@EffumBodyWorks] is featured in this film {proud sister} Please take a minute to watch the trailer below and support the film by donating the their Kickstarter page or watching it upon its release.

Color Outside the Lines (Trailer) from artemus jenkins on Vimeo.

My brother Kirk teaching my nephew Gavin how to draw.

Meet Marley. I know very little about his origins but I believe he is a California born Red-Eared Slider turtle. Marley was a gift I received for Valentines Day from a good friend. Since then I’ve spent some time learning about Marley’s needs including his food, habitat, temperament and energy levels -trying to see if we are a good fit. I even painted my nails in solidarity.

I grew up with a cat, Timmy that my mother mostly took care of.  In 2009 I adopted another cat named Olive who I kept for two months and then gave away. In 2010, I found a Golden Retriever puppy named Levi in a parking lot and brought him home. I gave him away two days later. I am notoriously bad with plants – even my succulents die. I try to only take care of/mother things that are inanimate and don’t require a lot of attention [relationships not included.]

Although Marley is small, he requires a larger habitat than I have for him now, something oxygenated and with heat. He has been eating very little because he is stressed about his environment – very sad. I work quite a bit and when I am not working I am committed to other things that keep me from really being able to care for a pet. Recognizing this, I have started to look for a new home for Marley. We will likely spend the weekend together and then say our goodbyes – at least he lasted long than the dog.

I am grateful for the gift but it is important to recognize that animals require attention and have needs that not everyone can meet – including me.

If you plan on adopting a red-eared slider as a pet, check out this website for more information.

As expected, today’s news reflects the many ways people all over the world feel about love. Reeling off of the revolutionary energy of the occupations, many folks are occupying V-Day, expressing staunch opposition to the exploitive and capitalistic chocolate-coated holiday often cloaked under the pretext of adoration and affection. A day that unapologetically boasts the privilege of heteronormativity and the tradition of monogamy – openly excluding so many.

Still others will embrace the opportunity shower their partners, friends and relatives with sweet gifts robed in crimson and given with love – commercial as it may be.

All personal views aside, what do people really want from a day of love? Love, in all of its nuanced complexity, is many things to many people. It is adorning and ostentatious, a glittery show of lights for the entire world to see, it is mindful and quaint, compliant and subtly exposed to an intimate audience of two; it is mellow but rich and full of niceties and sometimes love is grippingly unemotional, but consistently so. Compound emotional details aside, love is also a warm meal. It is enough money in your pocket to buy a dignifying cup of coffee, it is a warm, embracing coat on a cold winter’s day, the long, slow breath you take when you flip the switch and the lights come on, the ability make a decent wage, feed your family and live life away from the margins and closer to the center.

For some, love is a phone call, a distant, lingering “I love and miss you” between thousands of miles to someone who has been deported or incarcerated. Some celebrate love at the cemetery, mourning the loss of someone close to us who because of structural isms is no longer in our present. Love is in a hospital room where we cling to hope and pray for mercy – where we wonder what we have left to sell to foot the bill. Love is being the last person given a bed at the local shelter, the worry of where you’ll sleep for the night slowly vanishing. Love is not always sweet and chocolaty and wrapped in fancy paper.

Historically, Valentine’s Day is about martyrdom, linked to the plight of Saint Valentine, a third-century Roman priest who is said to have been executed on Feb. 14 for standing up for Christian marriage. This etymology in and of itself gives context to the inner struggle that plagues love. It is not a duplicative, regurgitated replica for sale at your local jeweler – it is an unpredictable and sometimes distorted and precarious journey that becomes inextricably linked to our personal growth.

Peeling back the commercial layers of Valentine’s Day, we realize that for some love can be the things we take for granted every day – something like choice and the humanizing ability to make choices that reflect your needs and the needs of the people you care about. What gets lost in the propaganda is that love is given in the form of opportunity and self-determination – not sold at your local drug store or flower shop. Love is the capacity to have a quality of life that isn’t sub-standard and that doesn’t force you to choose between healthcare and dinner. Love is also the ability to express your full self, devoid of criticism and judgment.

However celebrated, Valentine’s Day should be a reflection of the many ways we observe and express love. In our privilege, it can be mindful to acknowledge that commercializing love, however fun, can be minimizing and exclusive. Moving past the flowers and candy we see that love is a gripping experience that is intersected with policy and access and the right to choose. We should all be so lucky to be able to have that loving right.

Last week the Obama administration reversed its policy that mandated that religious affiliated organizations MUST provide birth control to their employees as a part of their health insurance packages. The new policy still allots employees access to birth control but with a compromising caveat – religious orgs no longer have to provide the option but the insurance companies are required to provide contraception and must reach out to those employed by religious orgs. Feel confusing? Yes, I thought so too so Jeanine (@xxslants ) and I created another video to help you understand what this all means. Check it out.

Imo, what’s most important here is the relationship of the federal government and religious organizations and the power that those orgs have over women’s bodies. None of the folks making these decisions are women; they will NEVER have to swallow  birth control pill, get a depo shot, insert a nuva ring or wear a bc patch, yet they still want to tell us how to best take care of our bodies.  Obama has gained some allegiance from leaders by showing his willingness to compromise  – but as predicted, he couldn’t please everyone. Not that he should have to. This should be a non-issues but of course, it’s not.

Overall this was a good move (reads: still a win for women) on behalf of the Obama admin because women still get access to birth control and we don’t have to hear the oppressive lip of the church.

If you are interested in more information I found this article particularly helpful.

More on this soon.

As a native queer Californian, this battle has been a rough one to navigate  and although it isn’t over this is a great victory for Californians everywhere. #Winning!

From the L.A. Times

A federal appeals court Tuesday struck down California’s ban on same-sex marriage, clearing the way for the U.S. Supreme Court to rule on gay marriage as early as next year.

The 2-1 decision by a panel of the U.S. 9th Circuit Court of Appeals found that Proposition 8, the 2008 ballot measure that limited marriage to one man and one woman, violated the U.S. Constitution. The architects of Prop. 8 have vowed to appeal.

The ruling was narrow and likely to be limited to California.

FULL COVERAGE: Prop. 8

“Proposition 8 served no purpose, and had no effect, other than to lessen the status and human dignity of gays and lesbians in California,” the court said.

The ruling upheld a decision by retired Chief U.S. District Judge Vaughn R. Walker, who struck down the ballot measure in 2010 after holding an unprecedented trial on the nature of sexual orientation and the history of marriage.

In a separate decision,  the appeals court refused to invalidate Walker’s ruling on the grounds that he should have disclosed he was in a long term same-sex relationship.  Walker, a Republican appointee who is openly gay, said after his ruling  that he had been in a relationship with another man for 10 years. He has never said whether he and partner wished to marry.

DOCUMENT: Read the court’s decision

ProtectMarriage, the backers of Proposition 8, can appeal Tuesday’s decision to a larger panel of the 9th Circuit or go directly to the U.S. Supreme Court. The high court is expected to be divided on the issue, and many legal scholars believe Justice Anthony Kennedy will be the deciding vote.

Gays and lesbians were entitled to marry in California for six months after the California Supreme Court struck down a state ban in May 2008. The state high court later upheld Proposition 8 as a valid amendment of the California Constitution.

While the Proposition 8 case was still pending in state court, two same-sex couples sued in federal court to challenge the ban on federal constitutional grounds.

Blooper reel

Breast cancer is serious. Komen’s decision to pull funding from PP is also serious. Jeanine & I, however are not very good at making videos, which is kinda funny. Have a laugh on us!

Black Women Writers– a timeless book that lays perched on my teeming bookshelf, tattered pages strewn with notes, insignificant to the naked eye. This critical evaluation of Black literary brilliance, that assesses the works of women like Toni Cade Bambara, Audre Lorde, Sonia Sanchez, Alice Walker, and Gwendolyn Brooks, is my Black history. I carry this history with me everywhere I go, indulging in the fictional genius and immeasurable talent of women who look like me and with whom I share the passion for the art of literature. This history fuels my creative prose and for it I am infinitely grateful because without it, I can’t be sure of where I would find my inspiration. But this is my Black history – not yours.

Black history month is proof of America’s obsession with pacifist behavior. A sweet cyclic muse that we court each February, exploiting the notion that Black history is a subgenre of American history and therefore can be relegated to a month filled with partial truths — one short, concentrated heritage month spent divulging stories that have been diluted due to an overwhelming feeling of White guilt.  This guilt urges historians to hide the truth and tell only those heroic tales of Blackness suitable for their grandchildren’s ears. This is not my Black history.

Each of us enters February anew. A month that begins and ends just like the others, with affixed holidays, anniversaries, and birthdays. Guilt, tradition, and a fear of discriminatory reprisal will lead teachers and the media to communicate misbegotten lessons that highlight the importance and relevance of Black people and our contributions, but we don’t have to bite. We don’t have to agree to learning only the lessons that post-racialists deem relevant to teach — a watery, fetishized skeleton of what is one of the most potent and vital legacies in American history.

My Black history, the one I celebrate every day, is intoxicating. It’s too vast, too compelling, and too detailed to fit into my pocket or yours. My Black history is shiny. It sparkles with glitter and gold. It’s feminine, mysterious, and integral. My Black history has many names: Baldwin, Carver, Chisholm, Hamer, Baker, and Douglas. It has been recorded and retold in many voices, through many narratives, and doesn’t consent to being muddled under the pretext of comfort. My Black history is tall, dashing, and poised. My Black history is not easily oppressed because it is fundamentally weaved into the foundational fabric of America.

Today, history is being strategically decontextualized. States like Texas and Tennessee are fighting to ensure that children learn only what’s easy to digest – only what feels comfortable and nothing more. This certainly isn’t my Black history because in addition to all of the above-mentioned qualities, my Black history is rooted in suffering and sorrow. It can be a sad, heartbreaking tale of death and destruction that weeps angrily. Its unembellished, uncovered body bares deep scars of a long, unforgiving, and vicious experience– an experience that cannot be denied no matter the amount of discomfort it causes, and an experience that cannot be commercially highjacked or co-opted and then slanted into agreeable information.

We are each responsible for our own awareness of history. The vitality of it is subjective. Black history isn’t an impartial regurgitation of facts and ideas; it is a cultural experience that has shaped the lives of not just Blacks but everyone born in this country. It is no less culturally important than other histories. In fact, it is the collective struggle that helps us transcend the idea that our cultural legacies be confined to heritage months.

My Black history is my own. It is the lessons I know to be true despite the constant denial.  I will tell this history to anyone who asks, anytime of the year because my history isn’t a small compliant space. It is shiny and glittery and it sparkles, everyday.

This piece was originally written by me for Ella’s Voice, a blog of the Ella Baker Center for Human Rights.

This week we celebrate the 39th anniversary of Roe. V. Wade, the landmark decision by the Supreme Court to guarantee a woman’s right to privacy and the legalization of abortion. This decision dramatically changed the way women and families live their lives –for the better. It offers a safe and legal way for women to make decisions for themselves and their families based on need, access to resources and family planning. Women all over America are able to freely express their reproductive autonomy by choosing to have children, not have children and parent their children with dignity. While we are fortunate to live in a country where abortion and birth control are legal in all 50 states, there are policy makers and politically motivated movements who have prioritized controlling women’s access to reproductive health care – and our bodies.

 In 2011 women’s bodies monopolized political debate as the right attempted to defund Title X facilities and strip reproductive healthcare access for millions of women nationwide. Congress pulled out all stops to slash funding for women’s reproductive services targeting Planned Parenthood and gunning for families with the greatest need. Fortunately anti-choicers and their political muses were unsuccessful, but 2012 is looking like another tough year for reproductive rights activists in the fight to secure and sustain access for women and families.

 While it is important to highlight abortion as a key hot button issue this election year (and every year), we must also focus on the importance of contraception and access to other facets of reproductive health care. Last year pro-choice activists suffered a huge loss when Secretary of the Department of Health and Human Services, Katherine Sebelius overruled a much-awaited decision by the U.S. Food and Drug Administration (FDA) to make emergency contraception (EC) available over-the-counter (OTC) to women of all ages. More recently, some conservative candidates have taken a firm stance against contraception – one even stated “contraception is a license to do things in a sexual realm that is counter to how things are supposed to be.” In addition five of this year’s Republican presidential hopefuls have signed personhood pledges, promising to acknowledge the “equal and unalienable rights” of zygotes while disregarding the free will and self-determination of fully formed women. Last November, Mississippi voters faced and defeated a ballot initiative that would have declared life begins at fertilization, making contraceptives like the IUD lethal weapons and we are certain to face even more threats to reproductive autonomy with the upcoming election.

For decades the sovereignty of women’s choices has been threatened by the irresponsible and self-interested conservative agendas of bible yielding, hypocritical tyrants whose quest for power leave women and families in precarious positions. Those on the margins, with access to the least resources including low-income women of color will suffer most from policy that restricts access to family planning. In 2012 we face restrictions on birth control and abortion, limited funding for reproductive health care including pap smears and mammograms and after all of this damage is done there will be no options for assistance to mother’s whose choices were limited by those who have no vested interest in their well-being. If women’s access continues to be a leading issue for the current Republican presidential field, pro-choice advocates are looking at another heavy year of advocacy and push-back and push-back we will give them!

It is my hope that we celebrate another 39 years of Roe v. Wade. Another 39 years of reproductive freedom for women and families who deserve tangible options for family planning and who can make their own decisions about when to have sex and when to have a family. We don’t need policy makers telling us how to make choices for ourselves, bodily integrity is one of the most important facets of human dignity – it should be that we are the governors of our own physical being. Here’s to another year of celebrating Roe, another year of freedom!