The Revolution Will Not Be Digitized

Thanks to WOC PhD for sharing a link to Gil Scott Heron's The Revolution Will Not Be Televised, which really hits home the point about what revolution is about: "The revolution will be live."

Too often, I've heard many feminists and other radicals hailing the promise of the computer revolution as one that can speed up The Revolution. And while it is true that we've seen some serious mobilization occurring on the Internet - from the global antiwar protests to the proliferation of alternative and independent media in subverting mainstream and dominant corporate media - we cannot overlook that millions of people around the world remain "unplugged" and without sufficient access to a computer. Many more, once they've entered the virtual world, have to navigate their way through the elitist, white supremacist, male-dominated rhetoric, hate speech, porn spams, and a variety of tricksters and charlatans luring them away from their money or their safety. Technology can't be the point. It must be a tool to be used and manipulated for our own interests, rather than have it rule and manipulate us.

But, as Gil Scott Heron said, back in the 70s, when TV was the dominant communications tool: "You will not be able to stay home, brother / You will not be able to plug in, turn on and cop out... The revolution will not be televised / will not be televised / will not be televised / will not be televised / The revolution will be no re-run brothers / The revolution will be live."

The "revolution" connected to the computer - the "digital revolution" - has already yielded contradictory narratives of progress: from guerrilla warfare and genocides in the Congo region, waged over the lucrative mining of raw materials used in computer chips, to the maquiladora workers at the U.S./Mexico border who assemble these chips, risking their lives in a border city that targets young women for violence. From the proliferation of Internet porn sites that simulate the very same violence underlying the femicide in Juarez to the hazardous tech waste sites in countries like China and Nigeria, stemming from the destruction of outdated computers in North America and Europe, which have been exported back to the developing world. Our high-tech connections to these low-tech subalterns entangle us further in a (world wide) web of deceit and (mis)information. It is with this “reality” in mind that Morpheus “welcomes” Neo to “the desert of the real” in The Matrix, that “dream world” where those of us who remain “wired” and plugged into American middle class privilege can turn a blind eye to the high-tech wastelands that are fast dominating the planet.

When Morpheus asks Neo to “wake up” from the capitalistic and inhumane slumber induced by our passive consumption of the digital lifestyle, will we also heed the call? Can we rewrite the hard-and software scripts that we engage in, to “change them as we see fit?” The disappointment of many of The Matrix fans to the trilogy’s conclusion stems from the film’s failure to adhere to its original principles, although given plagiarism charges, we may have to question whose vision was presented. Having become a franchise, the Brothers (both Wachowski and Warner) had forgotten its original premise to “rage against the Machine.” Instead, the simulated fantasies conjured by the Machine, both cinema and the ones in the story, prove far more enticing than the “real world,” where digital divides reign supreme.

If the "Revolution" will not be televised, then neither will it be digitized. Sure, I'm spending time in front of my computer blogging about this, as are many right now, sincerely hoping that our words - our combined information - will change the world. To some extent, they can, but theory without practice (and ideas without feet) can only travel so far. We do what we can in front of our computer screens, but we also have to unplug and fight the good fight in and outside our homes.

The revolution will not be digitized, will not be digitized,

will not be digitized, will not be digitized.

The revolution will not be brought to you by Mac or Dell.

The revolution will not be digitized, will not be digitized,

The revolution won't be in front of no computer screen.

The revolution will be live.

Angry Black Woman Extraordinaire

After a weekend visit to New York City, I'm glad to be back in the sanctity and sanity of my own home. Of course, getting back didn't occur without some drama, hence the title of this latest blog post.

So, I decide to take the Greyhound to return home. I traveled via the subway to Port Authority Bus Terminal and then headed back to my home city. So, why - on such a lovely, breezy, Sunday morning, did I have to witness two meltdowns, courtesy of some show-out, loudmouthed sistahs?

The first took place in the subway. It was Sunday, and there was some confusion what with construction in front of the entrance way. I ask the black woman sitting behind the ticket window what's going on; she flippantly replies, as if speaking to a moron, that I obviously couldn't get into the station and will therefore have to walk all the way to another station if I want to take the downtown train. I don't lose my patience but am thoroughly put out by this inconvenience. Not so the second black woman who inquires about the situation. The difference is, she immediately lets loose on the woman behind the window. She sounds like someone from the Caribbean, but with enough of a New York accent to throw off her island origins. And, on this Sunday morning, she really lets the woman behind the window have it! Anyone who knows anything about how a black woman can "let loose" can probably imagine the ruckus that she caused, while I meekly and quietly exit the station and proceed to trek to the next functioning one.

By the time I reach Port Authority and inquire about which gate I need to find my bus, I hear what sounds like an angry chihuahua yelping away and creating a gigantic fuss. The closer I get to my gate, the clearer the picture becomes: a crowd of people staring on in equal measures of bewilderment, terror, and fascination as it is revealed that, no, it's not a chihuahua creating noise, but yet another black woman letting loose on the world. This time, she sounds African American, similar New York accent, and - from what could be gleaned from her cussing - it sounds like she's going off on some station worker (this time, a black man) for making her miss her bus with misinformation. She was eventually left to herself and we all just watched this woman scream at the top of her lungs, carrying on and having a major fit, until she exhausted herself. Have mercy...

So, why all the anger? I could not help but be reminded of Audre Lorde's essay "Eye to Eye," in which she counsels black women to confront the seething anger we have built inside of us, which we routinely only express to each other! I also could not help but wonder at the world that hurt these women, for behind the deafening noise-making, I heard a great deal of pain and rage, in response to the overwhelming black-woman-hatred that exists in society. It's also a black-woman-hatred that too many black women have internalized. Yet, I also listen to the rage and always wonder how I keep mine in; how I could've just as easily been letting off on others when I become frustrated, but I don't have that kind of rage that has built up over time, in which I've learned to "bark" (because that's what black women do: we BARK, we seldom BITE) every time I detect - no matter how small - any negativity or hostility to my presence. Especially when we feel unrestrained to go off on "one of our own." What I would really like to see happen with these individualized acts of rage, often targeted against other black people (usually other black women) is a way for our "letting loose" to have real impact for social change, not just an emotional moment of letting off steam. Jill Nelson said it best in Straight, No Chaser:

Sometimes, usually under extreme and negative circumstances, our
women's language mutates, a woman's voice expands, grows loud, broadens

so that everyone who hears her knows, if not exactly what she's
talking about, then at least her rage. In these moments, we tell our secrets,
let the cat out of the bag. Mostly, this happens individually, when one
woman has reached her end, has had enough of violence, or dishonesty, or
being demonized, or being invisible, and breaks out, goes off. It's a powerful thing

when this happens. Imagine how much power we'd have as black women if we could figure out how to do this collectively. (Nelson 199-200)

Imagine how the world would stand back if black women en masse really let loose! Organized anger that's useful. If you have any thoughts on how we could effectively do this, I'd be happy to hear them. In the meantime, I highly recommend morning and evening rituals that help us stay focused and centered on our spiritual healing and mental and emotional readiness to take on our daily battles with the combined effects of racism and sexism. Be at peace, my sisters!

The Legacy of African Filmmaking

Ousmane Sembene in 2004

This week, we witnessed the passing of a legend in African filmmaking, Senegalese director and novelist Ousmane Sembene (1923-2007). During his life, he directed a dozen films. Here is his complete filmography, according to Internet Movie Database.

• The Sonhrai Empire - 1963


• Niaye - 1964


• La Noire (or Black Girl, based on his novel) - 1966


• Borum saret - 1966


• Mandabi (or The Money Order) - 1970


• Emitai (or God of Thunder) - 1971


• Xala (or The Curse) - 1975


• Ceddo - 1977


• Camp de Thiaroye - 1987


• Guelwaar - 1992


• Faat Kine - 2000


• Moolade - 2004
  

My first Sembene film was Camp de Thiaroye, quite subtle and lyrical in its exploration of ironies in the life of the colonized and the heavy price one pays to decolonize the mind, as in this historical account of a Senegalese brigade's uprising against the French colonials during World War II. One striking scene I will always remember is that of a soldier's flashback experiences in a German concentration camp - while I believe this scene functioned mostly as "metaphor" in connecting African and Jewish oppressions, I would not be surprised if Sembene had tried to alert us to yet another repressed story in history, which I'm sure we'll learn more about once Afro-Germans start rewriting history.

Sembene was a committed Marxist and staunch critic of Africa's taking aid from the West; he often dealt with issues of rebellion, revolution, and the state of present-day Africa, through his focus on his native Senegal. He was also committed to women's liberation and often focused on women's lives and their fearless leadership (La Noire, Ceddo, Faat Kine, and Moolade come to mind). I was a bit lukewarm to the reception of his most recent film, Moolade, solely because of its focus on female genital surgeries (a subject that has become so reductive in feminist responses to African women's experiences), but this one little film doesn't diminish the rest of his grand works, not to mention that, the subject is still worthy of criticism from within. While Moolade is readily available for American audiences, I'm still hard-pressed to find my freedom-fighting princess featured in Ceddo. Would that someone reissue this 1970s classic, as has been done to films like Ivan Dixon's The Spook Who Sat by the Door and Charles Burnett's Killer of Sheep.

Many have called Sembene the Father of African cinema, and we may be able to detect his influence on a whole generation of African filmmakers, one of whom has already been hailed as the next Sembene: Abderrahmane Sissako, who has a new film debuting this year, Bamako. Thanks to Please Professor Black Woman's recent post, I have become aware of this film, which has as its premise the World Bank and International Monetary Fund being put on trial in a village in Mali to account for their wrongs in perpetuating economic genocide on the continent through globalization. If Bamako is any indication of Sembene's influence on Sissako, then I am sure we have a new classic on our hands - one that resonates in our globalizing world and which can mount a brilliant counter-narrative to all the Hollywood discourse on Africa. While Hollywood would rather dish out more and more neocolonialist fantasies of the "dark continent" - from The Constant Gardener to Blood Diamonds to The Last King of Scotland, let us be very thankful for the independence and the vision of African cinema, shaped by some fiercely talented and radical African filmmakers. Now, if only these films were better distributed on this side of the Atlantic. Rest in peace, Ousmane Sembene.

Whatever Happened to "Dark & Lovely" and "Black is Beautiful"?

I'm teaching my very first distance-learning course, and one of the assignments that I've given students, to promote interactivity, is the creation of "video blogs," sharing of and commenting on video links that address issues of women's media representations. I thought I would share some here because it's disturbing to me in this 21st century that we still have color/beauty issues. And now, thanks to the Internet, we can now peruse through some of the "white-is-right/blacks-get-back!" ideologies throughout the world. So, my students shared with me some "Fair & Lovely" skin-bleaching cream commercials, one from Egypt (I think), and another from India. Reading through some of the YouTube comments on the Indian video, I don't know which is worse: the ones saying that skin-bleaching is no big deal because it's analogous to white people getting suntans or the ones proclaiming what a horrible thing this is because dark people should be true to themselves since Indians are so much better looking with their "exotic brown" skin.

Still another student shared this video, which I'll include here (see below) since it was produced by a young black woman, Kiri Davis, while still in high school. It's called A Girl Like Me, which explores beauty and color isssues among young African American women, and I cannot help but ask: whatever happened to "Black is Beautiful" (Davis even recreates the infamous doll test)? Somehow, these issues seem to relate to my earlier post on the problem with all of our Africa "talk." We must be able to embrace dark/black skins with pride before we can even begin to find darker-skinned peoples the world over not only beautiful but valuable enough to fight for and alongside when struggling for a socially just world.

Africa: This Year's "Entertainment"

As most weeks go, this one was no different in showcasing how mainstream news can distract us from far more important global issues (like the G-8 meeting in Germany, for example) to discuss the trivial concerns of Hollywood's celebrities (like en-route-to-jail Paris Hilton). And yet, there is something to be said about paying attention to the celebrities who do raise our political consciousness and moral conscience, like Bono from U2, who has become a cause celebre and a man of influence, putting on the agenda of same G-8 last year (or was it the year before?) the issue of third world debt cancellation and pointing us to extreme poverty in Africa. So, why is it that I find celebrities like Bono, who's doing a world of good (literally), far more insidious than celebrities like the rich, spoiled, self-absorbed, and law-breaking Paris Hilton? I think it may have something to do with the way Bono appeared this week on one of Vanity Fair's covers featuring AFRICA.

That's right. Bono, who got to showcase his power this week, guest-edited a special issue of Vanity Fair all about Africa and was able to assemble a powerhouse variety of the rich, the famous/infamous, and the superpower(ful) on its numerous magazine covers: featuring everyone from the President, the Secretary of State, Presidential hopeful Barak Obama (of course), Oprah Winfrey (how could she not be in the mix?), Brad Pitt (why?), Don Cheadle, George Clooney, Bill Gates, and some others (oh yeah, and three authentic African celebrities: supermodel Iman, actor Djimon Hounsou, and Nobel-Peace-Prize-winning anti-apartheid activist and Bishop Desmond Tutu). The multiple covers feature this collection of the famous "in dialogue" with one another about "Africa." Bono's become synonymous with all things relating to African charity, it seems, and some even credit him with making Africa "sexy."

Africa as "sexy" and "entertainment." (Grrrr.) Excuse me for a moment, while I let out a big, gigantic scream of rage as I think of these implications (a rage that has clearly built up since the past 400 years, passed down from the ancestors of course).............. There. I'm back. I feel much better. Now, back to sanctimonious, self-righteous celebrities with furrowed brows, talking about and guest-editing on AFRICA (in complete and total somberness).

As someone who loved the political edge in the music of U2, maybe I have higher expectations for what Bono could be doing in raising our collective Africa consciousness. For all the "talk" about Africa, I haven't heard anyone, at least on this side of the Atlantic, addressing the contemporary concerns of the continent while also connecting the present state of Africa to an important milestone this year: the 200th anniversary of the abolition of the transatlantic slave trade. Oh, but then, if we seriously connected today's issues in Africa to history, maybe we would then have to talk about (gasp!) SLAVERY REPARATIONS?

While this AFRICAAAAWWW (let me reach into my purse and donate a quarter while the celebrities pandering to me could save several villages selling out their entire wardrobes) "special issue" would rather follow in the footsteps of other celebrities who've recently discovered Africa for their latest "cause" (from Idol Gives Back's showcasing of the cute little African Children's Choir on their show while raising funds to end poverty on the continent to Oprah's South African school for girls - see my earlier post in March - to Angelina's latest adoptee to Madonna thinking she could adopt an African baby too - you're so going to love the Vanity Fair article on what she's contributing to Malawi), let me remind the world that our African conversation really needs to be about social justice. Not about charity, not about how we can give a hand to help Africa. None of that self-righteous crap! (Curiously, the Darfur crisis in the Sudan was not featured in this "special issue.")

How about we talk this year, this very year of the 200th anniversary of the slave trade, about how we can right some wrongs and restore some global equilibrium? Because this is what I know about the transatlantic slave trade. Europe, the Americas, and West Africa's ruling elite, under pressure by abolitionists, eventually abolished the slave trade (at least legally, but illegally they kept right on a-trading), but this was certainly not a result of their moral crisis about human trafficking. Interestingly, various revolutions were occurring at the time (this is, indeed, around the time when Haiti had started their revolution in the wake of the American and French Revolutions and successfully formed the first independent Black nation in the Americas); to some extent, these revolutions certainly put on the table the discussion of "natural rights," "independence" and "liberty." But, as with all things, the motivation was mostly economical. The slave trade could be abolished because, at this time, in 1807, European powers saw the benefits of turning their attention to Africa's natural resources and away from its human resources (take note, people, according to historians, over 13 million Africans were forcibly taken away from the continent in this trade, and only 11 million made it to the Americas alive), hence the move from slave trade to African colonization, a legacy still felt today as powerful nations continue to plunder resources from the continent (diamonds, gold, cocoa, even coltane - that raw material used in computers and cell phones, thus driving the economy of our present-day digital revolution and, subsequently, driving the present genocide in the Congo, where coltane is mined). Africa is the richest continent in the world with the poorest people, and we still want to "talk" about Africa without addressing this contradiction.

So, my response to Bono's sanctimonious chatter about Africa is this: how about you link your "third world debt cancellation" movement to the movement for slavery reparations? You see, I'm not convinced Africa is as "sexy" as you'd have us believe, because nowhere in the Vanity Fair special issue do I see any references to this 200th anniversary milestone, nor do I see any talk about how Africa has contributed to the wealth of our richest nations on this planet. Fascinatingly, there's one article from a scientist with a Genographic Project who wants to remind the world that we can all trace our ancestry to the continent and, therefore, we have a "global debt" to Africa because all humanity can claim it as part of their heritage (rolling my eyes). However, if people weren't so thoroughly colonized by the same powers that be that first plundered the continent of its people and then of its raw materials, having convinced just about everyone (including those who most resemble Africans) that we should all be ashamed of our African blood (there are several Latin American countries committed to this denial), then we wouldn't have to reduce contemporary scientists to making these claims, which should be obvious to everyone.

Ironically, it was scientists who encouraged this shame of African blood since such feelings have their roots in scientific racism - itself developed in the wake of the abolition of the slave trade, so convinced in their right to colonize Africa, that the European powers (I'll include American Founding Father/President Thomas Jefferson among them, but for different reasons since he just wanted to justify why he's owning slaves and fathering Sally Hemings' children, having penned the Declaration of Independence) called upon science to prove that Africans were really biologically inferior and, thus, deserving to A.) be slaves for the rest of their (and their descendants') lives and B.) lose their land because they were not "fit" to control their own resources. Speaking of Jefferson and Haiti, just so you know, also in the wake of the abolition of the slave trade, European powers were so appalled at the idea of Haiti's independence that they waged an all-out battle on the island, and yet, Haiti still whipped their behinds (and drained all their resources in the process of militarily defending their borders), even forcing Napoleon to sell off France's colonies, of which Jefferson benefited when he bought the "Louisiana Purchase" at a bargain price - thus beginning the Manifest Destiny in these United States of America, when Native American colonization and the "Negro Question" (will African Americans forever be slaves?) intensified. The result? The U.S. became the world's superpower while Haiti remains one of the poorest nations in the world. Sigh. Domino effect on a global scale indeed!

But, I don't care about our "global debt" to Africa due to our ancient ancestors from millions of years ago. I want to talk about our "global debt" from recent history and now. Because, we shouldn't have needed a Bono to speak on behalf of Africa at the G-8 summit, demanding - from a colonialist worldview that encourages his role as a lone white saviour speaking for the downtrodden - that their debts to the World Bank and the International Monetary Fund be forgiven. (And dammit, Bono, you're freaking Irish! If anyone should be resisting British colonialist ideology, which was first practiced in the "British" isles before they crossed different oceans, it should be you!)

Let's be clear. Africa shouldn't be "forgiven" for any "debts" because, from a historical perspective (and even from our present-day perspective), Africa owes the world NOTHING. Not one euro, not one pound, not one dollar, NOT ONE PENNY. And, yet the world owes Africa EVERYTHING. I'm not going to say, as a descendant of slaves, that I or any other descendant should be monetarily compensated. It would be unfair for us to collect when our ancestors suffered so severely. What we owe our ancestors is to stand up to racism, to remember the past, to overcome the oppressions that have visited us because we happen to be descendants of slaves, and to "emancipate ourselves from mental slavery," as Bob Marley once sang.

But at the very least, Africa's debt cancellation should be considered slavery reparations. I agree with Bono in pushing forward this global agenda, but I would rather he made his arguments from a historical perspective and stop this colonialist perpetuation of the image of Africa's helplessness. If we want to see conditions improve in Africa, let's start by seeing the people on the continent as our equals and not some new "sexy" or "entertainment" commodity. Every raw material that we consume comes from the continent. Just about every form of entertainment has its roots in Africa. Let's raise our consciousness and be concerned with its poverty, with its HIV/AIDS crisis, with its political wars, with its genocide, because we care that our fellow human beings receive justice and protection of their basic human rights, not because we want to donate to "charity." Our global debt to Africa is limitless.

Sacred Profanities: Sexual Politics in the "Black Bible Belt"

In many regards the “Black Bible Belt” is beginning to look like the black middle class of three decades ago. It was largely the black middle-class leadership of three decades ago that wrested political influence from black nationalists and young progressives; The “Black Bible Belt” is primed to do the same within the realm of 21st Century politics. The success of Tyler Perry notwithstanding (and the jury is still out on his cross-dressing antics via Aunt Madea), one has to wonder how the social conservatism and strident quest for the accumulation of individual wealth will impact the rank-and-file within Black America. .. And as the recent debates about Hip-hop in the aftermath of the Imus controversy suggests, the Black Bible Belt will increasingly be pitted against the Hip-hop Generation(s) by forces that have no vested in either constituency.

So, I emerge from my day of "silence" to read this little ditty from a recent article by "New Black Man" Mark Anthony Neal on Tyler Perry and the Black Bible Belt. I had always known about a "Black Bible Belt," grew up among some of its community members (those that reside here in the US and over in the Caribbean) and still hang out every now and then with some of these folk on a Sunday morning at a lively church. However, I still feel myself on the lookout for a "church home" because my black feminist (as opposed to "womanist") politics don't mesh too well with the more conservative elements and have been wondering where this right-wing strain is coming from, despite the fact that most Black people still vote Democrat (well, until I recently learned that an aunt of mine actually voted for W in 2004, her very first time voting Republican because she was led to believe he was a "Christian" and didn't support "gay marriage" - Ewwwwwww!!).

Stories like this and Neal's piece give me reason to pause and question this moment in African American life, for while I can lament the state of hip-hop culture, I'm also highly aware that this same culture emerged from the Black Bible Belt, and contrary to Neal's conclusion that somehow this particular bloc in the black community will eventually be pitted against the "hip hop generation," I see the exact opposite occurring. Considering that many former rappers eventually head back to the church, even become pastors, I'm inclined to think these two elements are more intrinsically connected than we think. After all, we cannot overlook that:

1. Many of the folk who boogey down Saturday night still know where to find church Sunday morning. I mean, don't "sinners" need to "testify?"

2. Coincidentally, many of the same nightclubs and strip joints are only a block away from any Baptist, AME, or storefront church... and in the same neighborhoods, no less. (This is also true, incidentally, in the Caribbean - there's something to be said about dancehall culture flourishing right alongside the evangelical movement in Jamaica, for example.)

3. Both Church and Hip Hop are taken far more literally than they should be.

4. Both Church and Hip Hop require women's submission.

5. Both Church and Hip Hop sure know how to rile up women and get them hot and bothered (and, no, I will not distinguish between the sexual and the spiritual here - have you heard T.D. Jakes' Barry-White-sounding audio version of his book, The Lady, Her Lover, and the Lord?)

6. Pastors, rap stars, and pimps are all shored up and idolized by a mass of black women. Nuff said.

So, contemplating Black folk's "Saturday Night, Sunday Morning" rituals, or what I'd like to call "sacred profanities," we may want to complicate how we view the social politics of the Black Church, especially when it publicly criticizes the sexual politics of hip hop culture without also scrutinizing its own stance on sexuality, which is quite consonant with the very secular culture it castigates. Hip Hop is like a dirty old uncle who's alot of fun and makes you laugh but who you also keep your distance from because, yeah, he'll molest you if you get too close, while Church is like that stern father, he may or may not molest you, but he definitely instills the fear of God in you and is inclined to whip your behind when you try to assert yourself (versus the dirty old uncle who flirts with you and encourages you to shake what you got on the dancefloor at a family party). Am I projecting much? Maybe, maybe not, but hopefully you get my point. Namely, the Black Church and Hip Hop culture are flip sides of the same coin, and somehow, they reign a great deal of power over women and have defined the parameters around black sexual politics.

And then there's Tyler Perry, neither Father nor Uncle but "Auntie": borrowing elements from black gay culture with his cross-dressing antics, while participating within a culture notorious for its homophobia and also reappropriating Black Mammy/Aunt Jemima stereotypes to speak with authority to black womanhood about our appropriate sexual behavior, so that we get black patriarchal guidance disguised as "grandmother wisdom" - think of this in the context of a society that has been blaming black mothers for all the vices and evils of the black community (from slavery to The Moynihan Report to Welfare Reform). In other words, we can accept such wisdom because it comes attached to a penis, the "lack" that has defined all that is wrong with Black America.

That so many black church women (and not just them!) find his shtick funny is as perplexing as the thousands of women who fill up the stadiums of T.D. Jakes' mega-churches. It is because of the success of such right-wing, socially conservative members of the Black Bible Belt - alongside the success of Hip Hop's corporate artists - that has me wondering about this shift in black liberation politics. We have come a long way from Frantz Fanon's Wretched of the Earth and even Martin Luther King, Jr's social gospel - itself influenced by left-leaning liberation theology.

I cannot help but feel that the pornographic culture of Hip Hop is fueled by the social conservatism of mega-black churches promoting individualistic wealth, traditional gender roles, homophobia, and - above all else - continued silences on issues of black sexuality (from HIV/AIDS to sexual violence to same-sex desire), silences that, as the 1980s gay activists involved with ACT-UP reminded us: "equal death." Not only that, but such silences need release, and Hip Hop provides that release with its open licentiousness and vulgar celebrations of all things of the flesh - often castigated in religious circles. With such choices, must black women resort to old-fashioned selections between "good girl" or "bad girl" status, of being the "virgin" or the "whore"?

As historian Paula Giddings once remarked, "Black people haven't had a sexual revolution of our own." White women got to step down from their "pedestals," while we've been doing everything in our power to avoid the "auction block," and erroneously believed that we should erect our own "pedestals" and mythic "thrones" to ascend as Black nationalistic "queens." Pedestals, thrones, auction blocks, kitchens, offices, etc. are all traps. I'm in a black feminist quoting spirit today, apart from Bible quoting (hee), so let me throw out another soundbite ('cause I don't listen to what Tyler Perry/Aunt Madea has to say; he can't tell me anything about how to be a woman). This one from the late and great Toni Cade Bambara: "Revolution begins with the self, in the self."

Fortunately, we have a tradition of writers and artists who can point the way for black women to find revolution within. It's no coincidence that our most celebrated Black women writers have deliberately tried to bridge the divide between spirit and flesh. Alice Walker said it best in The Color Purple when Shug tells Celie not to deny her sexual pleasures because "God love all them feelings."

I will end this blog entry with a different passage echoing this sentiment, from one of my favorite novels, Toni Morrison's Beloved. The character Baby Suggs preaches a liberation sermon to newly freed slaves, telling them to "love their flesh." Having suffered the most humiliating experiences under an institution that systematically devalued and dehumanized their bodies, she calls on all black people to resist the urge to separate spirit from the flesh, to embrace all our body parts, to consider our bodies "holy"/wholly because "you got to love it. You!"

In the silence that followed, Baby Suggs, holy, offered up to them her great big heart... She did not tell them to clean up their lives or to go and sin no more. She did not tell them they were the blessed of the earth, its inheriting meek or its glory-bound pure...She told them that the only grace they could have was the grace they could imagine. That if they could not see it, they would not have it...'Here,' she said, 'in this here place, we flesh; flesh that weeps, laughs; flesh that dances on bare feet in grass. Love it. Love it hard. Yonder they do not love your flesh. They despise it. They don't love your eyes; they'd just as soon pick 'em out. No more do they love the skin on your back. Yonder they flay it. And O my people they do not love your hands. Those they only use, tie, bind, chop off and leave empty. Love your hands! Raise them up and kiss them. Touch others with them, pat them together, stroke them on your face 'cause they don't love that either. You got to love it, you! And, no, they ain't in love with your mouth. Yonder, out there, they will see it broken and break it again. What you say out of it they will not heed. What you scream from it they do not hear. What you put into it to nourish your body they will snatch away and give you leavins instead. No, they don't love your mouth. You got to love it. This is flesh I'm talking about here. Flesh that needs to be loved. Feet that need to rest and to dance; backs that need support; shoulders that need arms, strong arms I'm telling you. And O my people, out yonder, hear me, they do not love your neck unnoosed and straight. So love your neck; put a hand on it, grace it, stroke it and hold it up. And all your inside parts that they'd just as soon slop for hogs, you got to love them. The dark, dark liver - love it, love it, and the beat and beating heart, love that too. More than the eyes or feet. More than your life-holding womb and your life-giving private parts, hear me now, love your heart. For this is the prize.'

The Silent Treatment: Or, God's Whisper

"Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper."
- 1 Kings 19: 11-13.

Words meditatively echoed in the profoundly moving documentary film by Philip Groning, Into Great Silence, about Carthusian monks residing in a secluded monastery in the French Alps. Highly recommended viewing, as is the practice of just being still enough to hear God's whisper.