I'm leaving, on the next plane
I don't know when I'll be back again
Kiss me and smile for me
Tell me that you'll wait for me
Hold me, like you know I'll never go
Even though you know I will
I'm a travelling man
moving through places
space and time
got a lot of things I got to do
but God willing I'm coming back to you
~ Mos Def "Traveling Man" Remix

i'm leaving on a jet plane tonight to see beloved.

while i LOVE that i get to spend a few days with him, the hassle of traveling with a 2 year old tries my nerves. i have to pack so many things to keep him busy, clean, and fed. i have to make sure he keeps his feet off of the seat in front of him, and hope that he doesn't throw a tantrum and scream at the top of his lungs. basically, i have to make sure he's not THAT kid that everybody rolls their eyes at. not to mention my family constantly looks at me sideways when i say, "i'm going to my 2nd home." although they are supportive of our relationship, they still don't understand why i need to visit so much ("didn't you just go last month?" they ask). i look at my little one, and i ask them, how can i not?

beloved & the munchkin barely know each other. no matter how many trips we make, it doesn't make up for the months or weeks that they don't get to see each other. you know how kids are: they don't know what they don't see, and the last thing i want our son to do is look at beloved like a stranger. i know it probably won't really CLICK until he's a little older that 1)he has a REAL daddy that doesn't just live in pictures and 2) daddy is just away & will be home...soon(?). but i'm trying to do all that i can to reinforce their relationship now.

our visit is coming at the perfect time. not only am i off for spring break, but beloved is having some issues. since his sentencing in Nov. 2006, he's been in two mental health hospitals, and for the last few days (or a week, i'm not sure), he's been on "observation." i don't really know what that means considering they won't tell me anything over the phone (ugh!), but i know that something isn't right. he's been increasingly depressed and a little distant as of late. when we talk all he really says is that he misses me & really misses our son, but not much else. seeing him face-to-face and being able to hold his hand and show him that we are HERE, will (hopefully) go a long way to ease his nerves. i can't even begin to imagine what he goes through. the physical situation is enough to break most people, not to mention the psychological turmoil he puts himself through (feeling increasingly upset with himself for putting us through this). i can't imagine having so much alone time just to sit and think about what i should have done & how my life could have been different. that is a mind killer.

whenever you see articles or studies on the prison population, they deal mostly with the numbers, not the families behind those numbers. i wish someone would come along and put a face, a voice, a story with the facts. perhaps then we would not just say, "wow, that sucks" when we hear of the alarming numbers of people being locked up. maybe then we'll try to come up with solutions.

The political world has been upended by news of Eliot Spitzer’s connection to a prostitution ring. Apparently, the scandal was flushed out when bank officials noticed several suspicious cash transfers and filed reports with the IRS. Many thought that it was a possible corruption scandal, but were shocked when Spitzer, the “Sherif of Wall Street,” was linked to a high-end call-girl service.

Sex and politics are not strange bedfellows. Several prominent politicians have found themselves on the wrong side of a sex-scandal, but news of Spitzer’s improprieties have many calling this once moral crusader, a hypocrite. Honestly, I could care less who Gov. Spitzer was sleeping with. That is between him and his wife, but this scandal brings up a myriad of other questions, namely, when does one move from being a human being, wrought with contradictions and complexities, to a hypocrite, devoid of any moral leg to stand on?

Thinking about the contradictions involved in Spitzer’s debacle brought to mind the complexities and contradictions that have shaped my father’s life. My father, a 30+ year veteran teacher and coach, has worked hard to teach, mentor and mold some of our most troubled youth, but he is also a functioning drug addict.

I have never said those words aloud. Never admitted to anyone that my father is addicted to drugs, nor allowed myself to think about it in any meaningful way. Likewise, he has never admitted it to me, but the signs are clear. My father, once vibrant, has deteriorated into a paranoid, heartbroken, functioning junkie. That stings, but cleaning it up doesn’t make it better.



I often wonder how broken you have to be to get hooked on drugs. How much pain do you have to live with until you say, “enough,” and fall into the comforting nod of cocaine? My dad has seen a lot. He lost his father at 7, saw his dreams of a NBA career wither away, and lost the love of his life, my mother. Apparently, my father’s drug use was constant throughout my parent’s 14-year marriage, but then, it was only weed. I distinctly remember a box my father kept which contained his “homemade cigarettes.” He never smoked in front of us, but he’d purchase Zig Zags and close himself off in his room for a while, then a strange smell wafting through the house. Like a teenager looking for an escape hatch, my father fell right in.

Soon his drug use turned to abuse and his paranoia led him to question every move my mother made and become violent. Mentally exhausted and tired of the drama, my mom moved us out to my grandparent’s house and my father’s downward spiral began.

I believe he sold all of our stuff. Everything we didn’t move out of the house is now gone: my mother’s piano, my flute, our TVs, bikes, our dog. I don’t have anything from my childhood that was left in that house. During those first few months and years of their separation, my father was vehemently angry. Everything was my mother’s fault. She kept us away. She was evil. She was a bitch. He threatened and threatened, and I realized I didn’t even know him anymore.

It has been 13 years since my parent’s divorce was final, and I’m still looking for the father I once knew. I catch glimpses of him from time to time, but the moments spent talking about and enjoying life have faded away to mere memories. My father still uses drugs. At 56 he has nothing. No car, no house, no place to call his own. He lives with my uncle and aunt, and hitches rides to work with friends. It doesn’t help that he makes quite a bit of money, but is broke a few days after pay day, always making excuses and blaming his lack of money on others. When he starts acting weird and asking questions that make little sense, I try hard to remember that he IS my father and not some strange man on the street. But it’s hard. We have little to talk about, and he still feels very foreign to me.

Watching HOB’s “The Wire” has made me a bit hopeful for my dad. Watching Bubbles, a drug addicted homeless man, fight his way back from addiction to some semblance of a normal life gives me hope. My dad isn’t that far-gone (right?). He still goes to work, he still mentors kids, still plays grandpa on holidays, but he also still uses drugs. Although the show a work of fiction, it is still grounded in truth. If Bubbles can fight his way back from the brink, I feel my father can piece himself back together again.

My father is not a bad man, he is in pain. And pain causes you to do things you may have never imagined. The dad I once knew is still there, waiting to come out again. I just hope it happens before it’s too late, and I don’t even have the memories of him to hold onto anymore.

just something quick to lift my spirits. a lot has been going on lately & i've been feeling tired, spent, and a bit hopeful. i just want to take some time to give a little thanks. i need a boost & remembering the good things always helps to put a little swag back in your step. here goes...

i'm thankful for:

1. air, fresh and smoggy pumping through these lungs. life is a beautiful struggle.

2. phone calls from beloved, just in the nick of time.

3. spring break being only a few days away.

4. my big-headed bwoi. my munchkin finds so many ways to make mommy laugh, even when i'm tryna be tough.

5. my fresh new ipod (i will probably be deaf soon. i'm blasting this shit EVERYWHERE!)

6. Nicolay & Kay. TIGHT EYES. they make me wanna write again (soon come).

7. acting upon old ideas...y'all aint ready.

8. Mos Def meeting Talib Kweli. Brown Skin Lady is still my theme song (can we get another album, fellas?).

9. Summer!

10. the All Mighty from wince cometh all things, wonderful.

i am also thankful for being able to share my life, my struggle, and my words with y'all. the writer in me feels so much gratitude to y'all for taking the time to read whatever i have to say. this site has given me an outlet & voice when i felt most alone. so thank you, and you, and you for coming & sharing with me.

what are you thankful for today?

bless up.

so, being high off my new ipod i set on a quest to find something new. i've been stuck on the same loop of the roots, mos def, common, illy jilly, and badu for like EVER, so i needed something fresh to add to the collection. don't get me wrong, i still love the classics, but i need some new blood.

saturday night i stumbled across Estelle, an Afro-Carribean Brit, with voice and swagger for days. so far i've downloaded a few of her songs, but i'm diggin what i've heard thus far. her style is a cross between 90s basement-funk/soulful house, brand new heavies, and moni love (huh?). i know, i know, my description is a bit convoluted (and perhaps all wrong), so i'll just let her introduce herself.

"Wait A Minute" ft. John Legend


American Boy Ft. Kanye West


what NEW music/artists have you discovered recently that you're LOVING?

i finally did it.

i finally shelled out the $150 for a new ipod. i've been putting it off for over a year now, since my last one mysteriously came up broken. you see, although i freely spend (way too much) money on my son, my husband, and on random trips to Target, when it comes time to buy something for myself, i freeze. i quickly begin thinking of all the upcoming bills, and how we will be traveling soon, and how high gas is...and i end up not buying anything. i rarely buy myself new pairs of shoes, i don't buy a lot of clothes, and this ipod...i've been eying it for some time now. but last night, on a trip to *ehem* Target, i bit the bullet and bought one.

and guess what?
i'm SO glad i did!

i'm still a little shaky on the fact that i spent $150 on it, especially considering we'll be making another trip to see beloved soon, but i'm glad i got it. music motivates me so much, and now i have no excuse to skip a workout or neglect writing or whatever...because my muse is back.

what's on your ipod or in your stereo these days? (i need suggestions. i have a lot of space to fill!)

My classroom is a battleground.

Everyday I fight with my students, trying to get them to remember bits of grammar, vocabulary words, and find importance in the works of literature that have changed my life. Everyday I threaten, and sometimes, I bribe them into learning (I hope) what it is they need to know to be just a little bit successful in this world. And everyday, after a day of threatening, and bribing, and yelling, and calling people’s parents, and shaking my head, I come home tired and spent, barely able to stay up longer than my 2-year old, only to return in the morning to do it all over again.

Teaching is a venerable profession.

Many have tried to tame a classroom, but have failed miserably, only to quit, disgruntled and complaining about the kids after a year or two. I won’t front, the idea of quitting and abandoning the headache (and heartache) of the classroom has crossed my mind plenty of times. But where will that leave my kids?

My students are a special group. Many of them are functioning three and four grade-levels below where they should be. They are facing a myriad of issues that no one their age should face. Several have no parents, are in foster care or live with distant relatives who do little but collect their check. And most of them come from single-parent households, where mom or grandma is working so hard she can barely pay attention. My students are both too grown for their 13 years, and too immature to handle all that has been placed on their shoulders.

Dangerous minds are wasting away.

I admit, I wanted to be the next Joe Clark or Erin Gruwell, the next inspirational teacher leading my group of disenfranchised students to the Promised Land (and maybe a movie), but that is proving to be harder than I imagined. You see, I thought that if I was real with the kids, showed I cared about them, and demonstrated that anything was possible, that education was the ticket out of any messed up situation, that they’d hunker down and study until As and Bs blossomed like wildflowers. But that isn’t happening.

Several of my students are apathetic, at best, toward their education. They don’t see the value in math or science or learning how to write an essay. They can’t see how it will help them further down the line. They know college is out there, but to my dismay, many have expressed interest in NOT going. My kids are bored, and only seem to be turned on by Soulja Boy and Sidekicks, by MySpace and name-brand clothing. Getting them interested in school is harder than cracking the Matrix, and I’m still searching for the code.

I am afraid for my students.

I am afraid for our future. Without an education, my students—Black and Latino—are almost certainly doomed to struggle for the rest of their lives. A 2006 article in the NY Times writes,

...in the country's inner cities, the studies show, finishing high school is the exception, legal work is scarcer than ever and prison is almost routine, with incarceration rates climbing for blacks even as urban crime rates have declined.
Although the problems afflicting poor black men have been known for decades, the new data paint a more extensive and sobering picture of the challenges they face.

"There's something very different happening with young black men, and it's something we can no longer ignore," said Ronald B. Mincy, professor of social work at Columbia University and editor of "Black Males Left Behind" (Urban Institute Press, 2006) (more).

My Black male students seem especially disinterested in excelling in school, choosing instead, to hide behind an air of coolness and hyper masculinity. Instead of emulating positive examples of blackness, they choose to model their stance and pose and language after many of the (worst) rappers in the business. And it’s very frustrating.

As someone who was where they are, growing up in the same neighborhood and experiencing many of the same things, it’s frustrating to see so many falling into habits that can trap them into a life that they are not ready for. To see them falling into this life that is so totally avoidable and unnecessary is painful. But even more painful is not having the answers. There is no magic pill or bullet to turn this thing around. There have been studies upon studies conducted, but still, our kids are underachieving.

How do we fix this?

How can we save our kids?

i have been just staring at this site for some time now. i've been meaning to post. i've been wanting to post. some have asked where the hell i've been (some may not care? lol).

i've been here. staring. looking. watching. wanting to post, but not making myself come to this computer to write.

i need to write. i long to write, but i just can't. don't ask me why. i am on some extended writer's block that i can't seem to shake. the desire is there, some rough ideas are there, but not much else.

i need some inspiration.
i need some new scenery.
i need some new music.

how have y'all been?

i.
we love hard enough
but sometimes it hurts like this
when you are away

ii.
two years hitched at hip
trying to make sense of this
thing called loyalty

iii.
a peculiar thing
to go at it alone but
still we rise above

~~~~
saturday made two years and we had the opportunity to share our day live and in color (!). despite the cold (freezing, freezing cold) our hearts, and spirits, and resolve were warmed tremendously. black love is still alive and kickin, even when stretched between two coasts.

peace

beloved and i are currently reading Mable Iam's book, Sex and the Perfect Lover. i know what you're thinking. why are we reading a book about sex, seeing as we are separated by 3212 miles? well, it's simple really. this book not only discusses ways to improve your sex life, but it also deals with connecting with your partner, so that you can share a deep, fulfilling love.

beloved and i have been on a rocky road for a few months now. we osculate between GREAT days and GREAT arguments. we have been in sort of an uneven place, not really connecting fully, but not willing to call it all off. so here we are, reading this book, and it has been good for us.

since beginning the book, we've had so much to talk about. we have so much more to say than just what our day consisted of, or what the baby did. we actually have grown folks stuff to discuss. after we finish this book, we will probably be reading her follow-up, I Love You, Now What? and hopefully, that will give us even further insight into this mystical, magical thing we call love.

have you read this book? what are your favorite love/relationship books?

teaching does not come easy to me. i'm not a natural teacher. sometimes i struggle to explain difficult and abstract concepts to my students. sometimes i struggle with my (lack of) patience & sarcasm. and sometimes, i just struggle.

today wasn't one of those days. today, my kids "got it," and for the first time, i felt like i was really doing my job.

this year, i am teaching two double-block periods of intervention English. it is a "designed" program (*ehem* scripted) and can be EXTREMELY boring. i am not quite convinced that this program helps my students, but i'm forced to teach it with "fidelity" (the district's most favorite buzz word). today, as we were progressing through the lesson, we were asked to pull the main idea and supporting details from a short, informative paragraph. typically, my students struggle with this and have looked to me to hold their hands. however, with state writing assessments approaching, i have begun to let go and let them solider through these tasks on their own.

during the lesson, i helped them to outline the first bit of information they'd use to write their paragraph, but asked (told! lol) them to do the rest on their own. i was PLEASANTLY surprised when many of my students not only outlined the article correctly, BUT also (and this is the kicker) wrote VERY solid paragraphs!

it sounds extremely unimpressive, but to see my students complete this task CORRECTLY was so exciting. for once i felt like all of our hard work wasn't in vain, and we were really getting somewhere.

days like today renew my spirit. i am hopeful about the coming semester and all of the ah-ha moments that are sure to follow.

0.76 inches
3 pounds
wireless, everything.
out of the box sexy.

i.want.one.now.

so, i've finanally been tagged. it's sort of the blog equivalent of a chain letter that gets passed on and on in attempt to learn about others. this little gem, courtesy of Faboo (thanks? lol), asks that i share 7 things about myself that you do not know. seeing as i blog anonymously, finding 7 things you don't know about me shouldn't be so hard, but i'm struggling anyway....

here are the rules...


1. Link to the person that tagged you and post the rules on your blog.
2. Share 7 random and/or weird things about yourself.
3. Tag 7 random people at the end of your post and include links to their blogs.
4. Let each person know that they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.



1. i always wanted to be a DJ. i LOVE music. i am an avid (classic) hip hop head and a b-girl at heart. i've always wanted my own set of 1s and 2s (techniques, of course!), and have even composed (several) mixed tapes in my head.

2. all of my laundry supplies MUST have coordinating scents, and i only use Tide and Downey. if i buy april fresh Tide, i MUST use april fresh Downey fabric softener. mismatching scents is a no-no.

3. i have a thing for A&E biographies and documentaries on mobsters and serial killers. i can watch them for days on end. don't ask me why.

4. i'm addicted to HGTV, specifically the real estate and home improvement shows (house hunters, property virgins, my first home, freestyle, you get the picture). while i watch, i take mental note of the things i want in my house (when i buy one).

5. i heart Celia Cruz. my AIM name comes from a popular Celia Cruz song. her energy, her fire, and her voice inspire me. i have written poems with her music as my muse. la reina will always live on.

6. i hate shoes. i'd much rather walk around barefoot, allowing my feet to be free. as soon as i can, i kick off my shoes and even drive with them off. but don't get it twisted, i'm no britney spears. you won't see me entering into any public bathrooms (or public spaces for that matter) without my shoes.

7. sometimes, i'm still amazed i have a child. sometimes, i wonder when his parents are going to come and pick him up. it's been two years, and i'm not quite fully adjusted to this new role of mama, but i'm getting there. i'm learning that not being perfect, and not having all the answers is ok.

so, let's see...who shall i pass this onto?

Xtina, Bless, Mdot, Torrance, Cap, Ced, and Xay, you're up!

writing is fighting
a barrage of words    banging
paper    ears     your heart

    struggling
to conect beyond the noise
beyond what makes us

     wondering
if anyone can hear
our inside voice, really

or if
it even matters
at all.


~~~~~~~

i'm in a rush, posting between periods. but i'm struggling to teach my students how to write...clearly. they are so stuck in a world of txt messages and IMs, that it seems as though basic, standard English is like Chinese to them.

as someone who writes well, i'm having a hard time conveying the nuances of the language to my kids. so much of what i write and how i write is caught up in my ears, i'm wondering how i can help them tune into that melody.

any advice? bell rang. peace.

i'm here, i'm here...i sware.

i have been sort of MIA since before school started again, sort of living in a state of uneventfulness. not much is happening on this end. i'm not writing, not reading (like i said i would). but i've been doing a lot of hanging with the little one, which has been good.

i am just sort of getting back in stride.

once i get my head right, i'll be back with some posts, some poems, some random words of....whatever.

peace.

Kujichagulia: To define ourselves, name ourselves, create for ourselves and speak for ourselves.


(no images, just audio ~ black star "K.O.S." ~enjoy)

day 2 of Kwanzaa is dedicated to self-determination, or defining one's self in spite of what others may say or think of you. self-determination and defining one's self is, arguably, the purpose of life. once we are able to create our own authentic identities for ourselves and by ourselves, i argue that we, as individuals and a people, will have achieved true freedom. it's like being able to be your own boss, and basking in how freeing that can be. but with that freedom comes immense responsibility. let's not take it, or ourselves, for granted.

"The fire's in my eyes and the flames need fanning
With that what? Knowledge Of Self, Determination"

peace.

Umoja: To strive for and maintain unity in the family, community, nation and race.


today marks the first day of Kwanzaa, the seven days after Christmas that aims reinforce the seven collective principles of African culture. today's focus is Umoja, or Unity.



i have always LOVED this song. for a time, it operated as my theme song, my anthem. i played it daily, sometimes several time a day basking in the strength and beauty of the horns and Latifah's words. even today, i am still moved whenever i hear it, and my swagger becomes that much more fierce.

at first listen, the song may seem not to speak much to "Unity" as it does to female empowerment, but when you think about it, a community cannot rise and achieve FULL unity until all of its members are valued and respected. as audre lorde so aptly stated, "It is not our differences that divide us. It is our inability to recognize, accept, and celebrate those differences."

in this Kwanzaa season and beyond, let us focus on trying to celebrate and accept that which makes us beautifully unique.

peace

from my family to yours...

be blessed.

i have struggled to define myself for so long.

for years i allowed others' definitions of me become who i was, as least temporarily. as a mother & wife, i'm having a hard time really figuring out who i am. like...who would i really be without all of these titles (mommy/wife/teacher/sister/daughter/visitor of inmate #06XXXXX)?

when i'm still, when there is no one around who needs anything, then who am i really?

& who are you?

On a recent trip to the park, I was reminded of the staggering gaps in race and class when it comes to mothering. The park was full of moms—mostly white—with coolers chock full of snacks, toys, screaming, barefoot kids, and Benz SUVs. This world felt foreign to me and about as inviting as a new, awkward kid’s first day of school.

Of the many moms out that day, I was the only Black mother, or parent, for that matter. As I listened to a group of moms discuss plans for their next playgroup and Mom’s Night Out activity, I wondered, where are all the black moms and playgroups for people that look like me?

I hit the net searching for information. First I did searches for African-American moms, mothering, and working moms and playgroups. After punching in a myriad of search terms dealing with mothering, I came up empty handed. Most resources for African-American moms either dealt with stay at home moms, or poverty and African-American moms, none of which answered the questions I had in my head.

Despite the lack of internet resources, I know I’m not alone. My situation is hardly unique. I’m an educated, working mother, who is solo parenting a rambunctious two-year-old son. There are millions of women like me, yet no one seems give a damn. An article on the National Organization of Women website discussed the media’s virtual ousting of mothers of color. It states,

If you read major newspapers and news magazines or watch network news broadcasts, you may have the impression that all mothers are white, married, college-educated and have (or have abandoned) careers in high-profile professions such as law, medicine, broadcast news or finance.

And although they are poorly represented in media reporting on working mothers, African-American mothers have a higher rate of working outside the home than any other demographic. Married African-American mothers with children under 18 have higher rates of workforce participation than other married mothers (82 percent compared to 71 percent of white moms, 66 percent of Asian moms and 62 percent of Latina moms, according to the U.S. Census Bureau.

So where are the real representations of moms that live outside of what society deems as the norm? Are we left to fend for ourselves, and continue to feel like outsiders on playgrounds across America? Something has got to change.

We need a place, a resource where both working and stay at home moms (married or single) can come together and share, commune, and find answers together. I have to yet to find that place, so maybe I should stop looking, and create one.

1. not having to wake up at 5:45am: i am SO not a morning person, but have been forced to become one in order to earn a living. when i was in NYC i had to be at work at 7am, and would have to be up, out, and on the train before the sun even got up. it sucked getting up so early, but watching the sun break over the river almost made it worth it.

2. being able to watch the today show in its entirety: normally when i hear the Today Show theme music, i know i'm running late. everyday i need to be out of the house before 7am in order to drop the little man off at the sitter & get to work in time to make copies, write the agenda on the whiteboard, and listen to a little music before my students start pounding on my door. being on break allows me time to catch up on all the fashion mistakes, complicated recipes, and the weather reports in my neck of the woods.

3. spending time with my son: you are probably wondering why this is number 3 on the list. i could have easily made it #1, however, at some point, i want my son to take a nap because i can only watch so many episodes of Thomas & Friends, or read Hop on Pop, or play with the trains. i absolutely LOVE my son, but now i realize that i don't have to have him tied to my hip to be considered a good mom.

4. not having to change out of my PJs: i confess, i'm lazy...sometimes. i don't like to get dressed up to go into the world everyday. i like the softness and ease of my cotton basketball shorts, or ultra-soft capris. i'd rather be barefoot, in shorts, and a tank-top & lounging around my house than stuffed into a pair of slacks and uncomfortable shoes.

5. unlimited options: this is probably THE BEST thing about being a part-time stay at home mom. if i want to stay home all day & let the munchkin run around the house like a madman, cool. if i want to get us dressed and go to a museum, cool. if i want to walk to Borders and browse for books & let him run around in the kid's section, cool. every decision, every idea, every day trip is possible because i don't have to answer to anyone but myself (and bank of america). whatever we want to do, we can do because i'm the boss. the freedom of being able to plan, or not plan, your day according to YOUR needs is priceless.

when i'm working and my students are driving me crazy and it's march or april or november, i always try to keep my eye on the prize: break! although i can't afford to stay home full time, being able to have a few weeks or months off allows me to experience life on the other side of the mommy coin.

each time i'm off i cherish these days, love the freedom they offer, and long to have them again. hopefully one day my passion will allow me to sustain us financially, and i can officially make the switch from part-time to full-time stay at home mom. until then, i will enjoy my time off while it lasts.