The first time my son met his father was in jail.

Blistering cold out, I wrapped my almost two-month-old son in a baby-blue snowsuit, and a hand knitted blanket and walked to the train station. We took the E train in Queens, then transferred to a bus that would take us to Rikers Island.

When the bus crossed the bridge onto Rikers Island, I didn't know what to expect. Even though I was somewhat of an around-the-way girl and had cousins who had been in an out of the prison, I had never set foot in a jail. My experience with jail was only what I'd seen on Law & Order, and from the looks of the show, Rikers was like the ninth circle of hell.

When I got off the bus gripping my newborn son, I didn't know I'd have to go through three sets of metal detectors, leave everything I carried for the baby—except for a blanket—in a locker, remove my shoes, shake out my bra, and take off my socks just to spend an hour with my beloved and introduce him to his son. It was a humbling experience, and I never wanted to do it again, but it's been three years, and this is our life…for now.

Raising a child is an arduous task. Raising a child alone is even more daunting. Because his father is away, I am in the precarious situation of being a not-so-single, single mother. Although his father tries to father our son through visits, phone calls, and letters, he is not able to be with us on a day-to-day basis, which means it's up to me.

I never planned on being a single mother. When my beloved was locked up, we were a week away from ushering our son into the world. We had bought all of the necessities, celebrated with two baby showers, and were happily awaiting his arrival. One night, our lives changed in an instant, and I was thrust into the difficult role of being another single, black girl with a baby.

When my son was first born, I vowed that even though he was being raised in the absence of his father, he wouldn't want for anything. I have made it my mission to give my son every advantage, every opportunity, and every indulgence that is feasibly possible. And even though we now live 3000 miles away from his father, I have made a conscious effort to keep our family intact and make sure we see him as much as humanly (and financially) possible. Even at three, my son knows both his mommy and daddy love him fiercely, and he is happy.

Solo-parenting my son has been both rewarding and very lonely. When we venture out to the park or to the movies or anywhere and see complete families, a hint of sadness curls around my heart because I am reminded of what is lacking in our life. Although beloved and I are together, I am still the one parenting our son alone, making sure he doesn't feel as though he has missed out on anything just because mommy's raising him by herself.

Since becoming a parent, I've become acutely aware of how I'm viewed, and have gone out of the way to make it known I'm not the stereotypical single mom. Even though single parents are raising more children, there is still a huge stigma that looms above our heads. And for black women, it's even worse.

I am not your stereotypical single mom. I have both a Bachelor's and Masters degree, I'm a professional, and I make a decent living. I am not on welfare, I'm not out having multiple babies by multiple fathers. I am young, black, and gifted and a mom.

As my son grows older and becomes more aware of his father's absence, I know I will have to explain the situation and reiterate that he is loved truly, deeply, and completely by both of us. He will have questions, and I pray we will have the answers. But for now, I am enjoying having my son all to myself. I am blessed to experience all his funny faces, silly dance moves, and I loves yous and not feel selfish one bit.

the break-up muse



        matched
mis
words strewn
lying heavily on your tongue

i don’t understand
your needs
       unmet
mine

       alone
we
love in the trenches

(c) me, 2003

~~~
last week i spent three days with beloved. we hadn't seen each other since we rang in the new year and he was itching to see me. truth be told, i was ok with not making the trip, but i knew that our visitings are already few and far between.

before our trip i was feeling kinda uninspired by our relationship. we slipped into the dangerous lull of taking each other for granted. afterall, we live totally separate, but connected, lives. he is constantly on alert, dealing with the harsh realities of being locked up, unable to really be free. and i am just dealing with the day-to-day mundaneness of raising a child, working, and trying to keep my head above water. it has been so easy for me to detach myself from OUR life together. not that my love for him had been diminished, but it has certainly been forced to take a back seat to other parts of life.

but last week...good lord, the air was still damp with new snow, the sun somehow broke through, and once again i was greeted by love, my love. we talked, we shared meals, and we breathed in the solace of each other. it was like a reunion that helped to put our relationship into perspective again, to light the fire again.

and now i miss him.

i haven't really ached in a while. i haven't really, really missed him in a while. i've learned to control the missing. learned to put my feelings on the back burner just to make it through each day. but after seeing him, breathing him, i'm once again left feeling...everything.

today, a student called me a bitch.

this isn't unusual in an urban classroom, but this time, instead of whispering it to my back, she said it LOUDLY, where EVERYONE could hear. it was as if all the kids were shocked and starred at us to see what i'd do. would i jump across the room, snatch her up and shake some sense into her? (thought about it). would i curse her out and tell her where to go ? (thought about that, too). but i did neither. i calmly asked her to step into the hall, then proceeded to give her a good tongue-lashing before i sent her to the dean's office. but honestly, i was stunned. not by her calling me a bitch, but at how easily (and loudly) the words flowed from her twelve-year-old lips. bitch.

i rarely use that word. i'm not comfortable with calling other women/girls bitches, even if they are mean/evil/insert whatever word here. i just don't. i wasn't raised hearing cursing in my house, even if it was going on outside my front door. i was raised with respect for ALL adults. so much so that even if i HATED that person, i would wait until i was alone to utter my muffled curses. my students...apparently aren't learning the same lessons at home.

i am so completely frustrated, and at the same time, sad for my students. they are growing up in a culture of failure. they are taught, either at home or by the media, that being cool or hard or pretty will be enough to get them through. when in all actuality, being smart and knowing how to treat people is key. many of my students curse like sailors. curse like they learned it in a book. some curse better than they speak "standard" English. it's so easy for me to write them off. easy for me to say, "see, their parents aren't raising them right," but even some of the "good" kids are falling victim to this false sense of what's important. but it's deeper than that.

as my job teeters on the brink of uncertainty, my state is spending billions more on prison funding, while dropping to 47th in the country on per pupil spending. so while the state claims it is broke and must cut the education budget and are laying off teachers, which will increase the sizes of classes and make each student get even less attention, we are increasing funding for those youths who will, because they aren't engaged/able to get the attention they need, drop out and end up in prison.

say what?

the fight for our kids isn't fair. while we work HARD, it always seems like the game is rigged. i know that i can only control what happens within the four walls of my classroom. i know that no matter what attitudes, problems, issues, or deficiencies my students come with, it is up to me to put all of that aside and prepare them for what will come.

it's hard. and i'm tired, but tomorrow i will get up and do it all over again.

it seems like just yesterday i was celebrating the end of a long school year, preparing to pack up my room and myself for some much needed R&R. just yesterday i was reveling in the long, lazy days of July, enjoying myself by not doing much of anything, but all of that is quickly coming to an end.

i will be officially back to work next Tuesday and as I'm trying to switch my brain back into "work mode," i'm stuck wondering how the hell the summer managed to run so fast. it seemed to breeze by me very very quickly & i just want this last week to slow....down....now.

we spent last week with beloved, celebrating his birthday. and as i drove around Upstate NY it was scary at how well i knew my way around the place. it is sort of like another home, or at least someplace i know very well. i can almost give directions. but it was worth it. we probably won't be traveling back until the air turns cold & snow is threatening blanket the ground. so, this was our last hurrah until then. perhaps then we will have news about the appeal. the lawyer seems hopeful & so are we, but out visit was great. beloved and the munchkin continue to bond, and i'm forced to think of something to say everytime our son asks, "where daddy go?" i know my answer of "we'll see daddy later" will only hold him for so long...but it's working for now.

i know i've been a bad blog-friend. i haven't been online much these past few weeks, forgive me. i will make the rounds & give my hellos. i pray all of you are well & enjoying the last bits of summer. i am hopeful going into the fall though. i learned that our students, specifically our 7th graders (my kids!) kicked butt on the state tests. of each of the grade levels @ our school they had the highest gains, so i guess we (maybe me?) are doing something right. so fall will bring a new group, a new challenge, and a new chance for me to "get it right" as a teacher. this will mark the beginning of year 3, and i realize this is the longest job i've ever had. i've spent most of my working life putting in a year or two, then moving on, but not here. i guess that says something, right?

bless.

we are back home after a week of visiting. of trying to distill each moment into memory. beloved is well, softer around the belly, but in good spirits. we were blessed to have a "family visit." forty-four hours of normalcy, or as close to "normal" as you can get while being locked into secured area. it's not as dismal as it sounds. we stayed with beloved in a small apartment on the prison grounds. i am always uneasy about being there. i don't feel comfortable not being able to leave, but imagine how he must feel? i kept telling myself that as i felt a bit closterphobic about the gate surrounding the apartments, but we had a wonderful time. watching beloved play with our son, and our son responding in such a way that now i am SURE that he knows his dad is flesh and blood and can lay down a mean tickle & make some good pasta, and doesn't just reside in pictures, made my heart giggle. yes, we had a GREAT time, and i am moved everytime i watch them together.

watching them reminded me of how much our son has grown. how smart he is, even at two, and how soon i will have to explain why daddy can't leave with us. what will i say? i'm not even sure. when we were getting ready to leave the visiting room on thursday and friday our son said, "lets gooo daddy!" and held out his hand. i smiled, knowing he was now sure daddy was his, but i also wanted to cry because daddy could not go & will not be coming with us for some time.

the irony of watching CNN's expose on Black men in America while just coming off a visit to a prison, wasn't lost on me. the visiting rooms are always full of Black men in State Greens, and women visiting--holding them down--with kids in tow. i never wanted this to be our life, never thought i, with all my degrees and education, would be visiting prisons with my son. but this is our life. all i can do now is make sure my son does not end up in the same predicament.

in other news i am completely addicted to ancestry.com. yesterday, i started compiling my family tree. after a slew of phone calls to my grandmother & my aunt, and coping pages from my great-grandmother's family Bible, i am about 5 generations deep on my mother's side, and a 3 on my father's. the linage the men in my family (my father, my grandfather) will be harder to track down. their families are not close and most of the older relatives have passed away, but i have hope. i am already into the 1830s and hoping to reach the 1700s. oddly enough, it has now hit me that many of these names, especially those in the mid 1800s were probably slaves. i'm not sure how i really FEEL about that. i mean, it's one thing to talk about slavery in historical terms, but quite another to know the names of your ancestors who were enslaved. my grandmother told me about her great-grandfather and how he used to tell her about his days in slavery. i know slavery is in the history of just about every American negro person, but to put actual names to the people is quite surreal.

what have you guys been up to over the past week? i want to thank everyone for contributing such wonderful comments to the posts. i absolutely love the conversations and the different perspectives that are being shared! keep them coming!

peace.

(CLASSIC black love moment! Darius sums up the immediacy of love, in such adept words, i had to post this..even though it's grimy as all hell, but still, enjoy!)

Patience and perseverance have a magical effect before which difficulties disappear and obstacles vanish.
~John Quincy Adams

John Adams had a point. patience and perseverance have the ability to change things in many, wonderful ways...but damn if it doesn't take forever!

today i saw beloved, and it took lots of patience, perseverance, and money to make this extremely short trip happen. you see, they had a festival today, which is sort of like a family picnic. it's the one time out of the whole year you can actually be outside, experience the sun, hold hands, and stroll around like teenagers, albeit, within limits. but it's a nice and welcomed change from having to sit knee to knee, across a table in a crowded visiting room.

the festival was cool, the sky was blue, clear and God held back the rain, but the sheer amount of time took for the COs to process us and drive us 100 feet inside the prison walls was RIDICULOUS! if i were new to this whole prison thing, and had a bad attitude, i would have been in trouble. but whenever you're dealing with the Department of Corrections, you already know your time isn't your own. you operate on their time, when they want to move, and when they see fit to allow you to reconnect with your loved ones. it sucks, but it is what you have to deal with to get to the good parts.

coming east always feels like home. even though i'm not a huge fan of upstate NY (i'm bored!), the change is welcomed. one of my favorite things is that you hear new songs on the radio. maybe it's because i've pretty much abandoned LA's urban radio stations for my iPod & NPR, but there are a lot of good songs i've been missing out one. one that i'm LOVING right now is Jazmine Sullivan's "I Need You Bad."



this song is takes me back to when beloved and i first got together. the VERY magical days when we couldn't get enough of each other. soon after i moved to NY, he invited me to a reception for one of his family's friends. it was a muggy, august night in Jamaica, Queens and it was one of the best parties i've been to. beloved is jamaican, so each party is complete with DJ and lots and lots of drinks. the vibe was so lovely, i remember getting tispy, and dancing real close to my man. i remember thinking life couldn't get much better than this: surrounded by the possibilities of a new city, deeply entrenched in the first stages of love, giddy-all-you-can-think-about-is-him-love, and in this backyard dancing to Sizzla and Sean Paul. this song single handedly brings back all of those memories. the music, the riddim feels like an old Marley tune, her voice sounds like Lauren when she fell in love with Rohan. the vibe is there. i played it for beloved when he called and he flipped. he loves it too, it reminds him of me, and him, and home. we both can't wait to get home, wherever that may be and just LIVE.

i pray your weekend is blessed.

untitled

our discourse ended
cut short by a synthesized voice
signaling the end. time never seems
to meander when we speak. it sprints.
running away from all the things we need
to say, as if it can only handle so much.

yesterday, the sun rose orange
and early and i pretended to wake you
kissing fingers to lips, whispering hello.
your early morning grunts overwhelm
my memory, filling me with a sense of longing

today is not starting out right.
you are not here. and you will not be
curled up inside me anytime soon.


(c) me. 2008
~~
i spoke to beloved yesterday for the first time in a week. he is...ok, all things considered. still having issues with the COs, so it looks as though i will have to move further into advocate mode. i am learning so much about what it truly means to be committed. i never thought this would be my life. even joked with him that i'd totally NOT stick by his side had he ever found himself on the wrong side of a prison, but life changes. five years, and a son later, this is our life....FOR NOW. *sigh*

last night i went to a party for the first time in YEARS. when i say party, i don't mean a gathering of boho types listening to jazz & reciting love jones quotes (oh, you know what i'm talkin bout!), i mean a Divine 9, KAPsi frat party. back in the day, my sands and i were ALWAYS at the center of attention at these parties. we strolled deep, (innocently) flirting with frat and just having a good time. last night officially sealed it: i'm old LOL. i didn't even know HALF of the new sorors who were there, and the Nupes...they were way more energetic than i remembered. i had a good time though. i was still able to keep up with the Neos, learned a few new strolls, and enjoyed seeing people i haven't seen in years.

how was your weekend?

& don't forget to share your poems in the comments section. shout out to LoveBabz & Stephen Bess for posting poems for National Poetry month!

5
____________________________________________________

by Wanda Coleman


there is no one here but me. from behind this glass
i see the guard's station. prisoners are watched
on TV monitors, a camera in each cell. if i move,
i see the wisp of my movement on the monitor.

i am here through no fault of my own as a result
of doing more for others than for myself. all the guards
are men. they can watch me undress and make my toilet.
they can watch me caress myself in my nightmares.

there is a pay phone in the prisoners' rec room
that does not take coins. communication is futile at worst,
faulty as best. i have learned that i am friendless.
no one has sympathy for me. i have learned
that misplaced trust can dismantle a life

as a result of this punishment, i have learned
it pays to be more selfish with desire.

memory divides me against the light

~~~~

i was browsing some of the books i own when i stumbled across this poem. it speaks to my life, beloved's life. i haven't heard from beloved in nearly a week. the last time we spoke was Saturday morning. he's been having some trouble. he's been depressed. he's being sort of harassed by the COs.

last we spoke, he told me they cut off his electricity and water. i suppose this is "normal" when they are trying to "make a point." you see, even in prison, beloved refuses to be treated as less than a man. i can understand. his situation is precarious. he doesn't want to jeopardize coming home, but he doesn't like being talked to any which way. he will speak up. he's filed complaints about his treatment, and that's just not something that's looked upon favorably.

the power dynamics within a prison are astonishing. it's amazing how people feel superior to you, simply because they have some authority. you can feel it in the visitor's room. you can feel it in the way they speak to us (visitors), the way they look at us suspiciously, as if we are guilty by association.

i hate visiting. i hate prison. i hate that this is our life. i want beloved home, like yesterday. i want our son to have his father. i want to cook dinner and go to movies and walk in the park like everyone else. i want so many things and it seems as if everything is put on pause...indefinitely.

baked macaroni
ambled through the living room
making us hungry

you rang, bringing sun
and sadness with a taut smile
wishing you could share

everything with us
is somehow lacking in ways
hard to explain over

again I want you
to meet me places you can’t
imagine exists

somewhere beyond this
time parceled out in tidbits
love sustains us all

~~



so, we are home and back into the routine of our everyday life. yesterday was Easter and like a mad woman, I decided to take over the cooking duties. you see, usually my mother and/or grandmother slaves over the hot stove, but I decided to give them a break. thanks to my sista*friend/super-chef-on-call, i pulled it off (and it was good). i whipped up fried chicken (which was a bad idea because it was about 90 degres yesterday!), potato salad, baked macaroni, and mixed veggies. needless to say, everybody enjoyed my cooking which made me feel all grown up! (even my grandma wanted the recipe! LOL). so my ego got a bit of a boost, even as my press was sweated OUT.

although i wasn't ready to go back to work today, i told myself that i would think positive. instead of dreading the morning, i said that today would be a GREAT day, and it was, had it not been for the headache. but it's over now (thank the LAWD!) and tomorrow is a short day for the kids (handclap). i think i'm still experiencing a bit of time-zone confusion because i'm pretty tired and it's only 6.

i find myself wanting to write poems again, which is a good sign. i haven't been writing as much as i should. so many times i feel like i'm squandering the opportunities i've been presented with. i watch others put their dreams together and turn them into reality, and then i secretly wish to do the same, but just...don't...quite...do...it.

what's the holdup? what am i really afraid of?

i guess, i'm the only one that can answer that. and it needs to happen. soon.

(going to meet my man)

on visiting

smalltown u.s.a.
a blur of cows and branches
and prisons emerge

out of nowhere we
rush to hold memories in
tangled fingers and

polaroids. you ask
for a soda, burger, and
what's new in the world

everything has changed
and stayed the same all at once
your face tightening

remembering each
curve of my lips. we smile but
watch the clock tensely
~~


(in the sticks...literally)

tomorrow is our last day of visiting. i can't believe how quickly these four days have seemed to zoom by. i am tired. i will not return to work on monday rested, but rather still feeling like i need a vacation. my son has been acting out a bit. beloved and i have been having a wondering spin on the dance floor. i am dreading tomorrow. i wish i could stay longer, but work and bank accounts do not permit it. tomorrow will be a bit sad, but i will be brave. when 3:05 hits, and the COs call out that visiting is done, my heart will drop. his heart will drop. we will hug and kiss for minutes on end, but it still won't be enough. he will go back, be strip searched and lock in to a lonely cell with nothing but his memories of our conversation and kisses. i will go back to an empty hotel room to pack, and get ready for a long and lonely flight. in a few months we will do it all over again. the joy. the heartache. coming together and leaving again. this is the cycle of our life. for now.

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.

i have been in a constant state of motion for the past few weeks: rushing to complete a huge project for school, feverishly grading papers & getting them into the system, and traveling 2,578 miles and back to see beloved for 44 hours.

i am spent.

there are so many emotions and words and sounds caught up in my head right now, but i just can't get them out. perhaps if i rest, they will flow.

soon come.

for now...i'm just saying hello, it's me.

Warning: if you are offended by the n-word & expletives, this post ain't for you. proceed.

BLACK radio is doing it! there is an air of protest and youth-activism that we haven't seen in YEARS. If it weren't for black radio's on air personalities (Michael Baisden, Steve Harvey, and Tom Joyner to name a few) & black bloggers around the globe, many of us would be completely in the dark about the plight of the Jena 6.

I am an avid news/news magazine junkie and I have YET to see a story of substance regarding the Jena 6 on ANY mainstream news outlet. Over the weekend there was a BRIEF story (about 2 minutes) about the Jena 6 on MSNBC because one of the anchors was interviewing Al Sharpton, but other than that...silence.

I am at a loss at why the media chooses to BLACKout the racial issues that continue to plague America. The MSNBC anchor had the audacity to ask Rev. Sharpton if "deep seeded racism" still exists in "pockets" around the country. ummm, HELLO!? sometimes i wonder what planet most white people live on (anybody? explain?). racial inequities continue to exist in the media, in our education system, in our cities, and let's not get me started on the VAST inequalities in the justice system. over 40 years after we marched on Washington, Selma, and Watts...Marvin Gaye (RIP) is still wondering WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?


(phil spector's crazy ass & oj's dumb ass...a media match made in heaven)

The media's lack of coverage is troubling, especially in light of the stories they choose to cover. Michael Vick was all the rage for a while, now it's OJ's turn. *shakes head* I wish OJ would go into a hole and sit down somewhere. this fool, makes Chris Rock's "black people vs. niggas" routine all the more relevant. i'm with Chris...i love black people....but...



I HATE NIGGAS!

and OJ is the coon-ing-ist (yeah, i made that up) ass NIGGA on the block! Damn! even crazy ass Phill Spector, who blew this white chick's brains out, can't even take his shine. OJ has to be fuckin delusional. how a nigga gon' run his own "sting" operation without that shit going awry? how can he NOT realize white people (and now black people) HATE his guts and want to see him wearing prison blues? get ready Orenthal....you're about to be inmate #1234567, a ward of the State of Nevada. bend over, nigga.

*sigh*

i hope i don't sound crazy, i'm just angry. and black. i'm not paranoid either. hundreds of years of oppression have colored my stance on things. being a teacher, a facilitator of young black minds comes with a whole host of responsibilities. i feel as though it is my DUTY to shed light on the plight of our kids. these random news stories are merely distractions. we need to focus our attentions on the Jena 6. many of you probably won't make it to the rally on Thursday (i will be at work telling my students about this), BUT we have been asked (and i am asking you) to wear BLACK on Thursday to show your support for the Jena 6.


(i *heart* mos def & cornell west...preach brovas!)


read up on the plight of the Jena 6, write a check, tell somebody....DO SOMETHING...

please.

Black men are America's most likely crime victims. Even Latino men, who suffer high homicide rates, are much less likely than black men to be murdered. A black man is safer in prison today than living free in Los Angeles County.

*jaw drops*

THIS scares me.

According to the Los Angeles Time Homicide Report, a weekly tally of all the homicides in LA Country, young, black men are safer in prison than walking the streets of LA. I am shocked, appalled, and afraid, especially for my bothers & son.

where have i been?

i am an 80s baby. i grew up in the heart of South-Central LA in the 80s, lived through gang wars & colors, and I suppose, i figured everything had died down. nowadays, when my students come to me refusing to write in anything EXCEPT blue ink, spelling my name wrong ON PURPOSE because they refuse to put the "C and K" together, and claiming they are from "such and such set," I shake my head and can't understand. for some strange reason I thought gang bangin was dead, burried deep in our memories right next to Cube's jeri curl & Raiders jacket. But apparently it's still alive and well in the hearts and mind of our youths.

This year Six Hundred & Seven people have been murdered in Los Angeles County. 607. of those, 180 (or 17%) have been Black Males. An overwhelming majority of them (156) met their demise by the way of a gun.

I don't even know where we can begin to change this (suggestion?).

I'm sure these statistics aren't foreign to other major cities. where do we begin to pick of the pieces of our broken youth? In 2005-06 many news sources did several news reports on the state of Black men in America, but I have yet to read or hear anything about the brothas this year. Perhaps our men are out of style; overshadowed by celebrity gossip and political scandals. But the question remains...what can we do about it?

How do we begin saving ourselves, because it is OBVIOUS, no one else will do it for us. Where do we even begin?

Personally, I am starting with my son. My son has a living, breathing example of how bad decisions & choices can really cause setbacks in your life (his father). beloved and I talk, at length, about our hopes and dreams for our son and how no matter what, he will NOT make the same mistakes we've made.

my son will not be statistic
God Willing
we can keep him safe
long enough to succeed

UPDATE:
Since posting yesterday, the number has gone up to 620! this is damn ridiculous.

(attica correctional facility. this pic was taken with my phone. i wasn't sure if you are allowed to take pics of prisons, so i tried not to look so blatant & use my camera.)

and we're back. the little one and i are back from our week-long dance marathon with beloved. it was wonderful seeing him. he hasn't changed much in the nearly 2-months i've seen him, but it did look like his face has thinned a bit (but he still has the belly lol).

seeing him made me realize how MUCH i actually miss him. i know that sounds weird, but somehow i am able to sort of deal with the feelings of him not being here. don't get me wrong, i miss him dearly, but i've been able to cope, i suppose. but seeing him made me consider moving to cold-ass buffalo, even though when he first mentioned it i balked. i still doubt that we'd move upstate, but it has crossed my mind.

beloved is good though, tired of being there, but he is maintaining, which makes me feel a little more at ease. i'm also so worried, especially after we visit, that he will get extremely depressed, but he sounds good. while we were there i got a chance to meet the Imam, whom i bothered so many Saturday mornings to make sure beloved's name was on the program list. he seemed happy to meet us, and he was happy for beloved that we were there. everytime we visit, people seem SO surprised that we would go all that way. but i often ask them...what would YOU do? i love this man with the fullness of my heart, he loves me, we have a son...so it's imperative to keep our family together. i mean, what else is there to do?

*~*
work is starting soon, in a week to be exact. i am SO not ready to go back to work. i've been spoiled this whole summer. every time i'm off work--any job--i wish it could last longer. i wonder if that means i'm not passionate about what i do? or does it just mean i'd rather spend time watching my son grow up? i mean, i am the only documentarian to his growth. daddy can't be here, so it's up to me to record, and capture all of his important moments. who knows...i just wish summer lasted just a bit longer.

on our trip to see beloved, i got the chance to stop in New York City & Toronto. I liked Toronto a lot & wish i could have stayed a bit longer to see what it's all about. it's not especially far from beloved, so who knows...perhaps we can move there. i'd still get the big city feel, in a relatively safe place, with a diverse community (with lots of west indians). but i'd have to visit a lot more & really check the place out. for now...i will enjoy the pictures (and so will you!) lol. be blessed y'all.

Toronto

(i saw that while walking around and just HAD to take a picture. *lowers head* i'm guilty of txting & driving)


(CN Tower--the tallest building in the world--Day & Night)


(downtown T dot O)


NYC


(Times Square)


(posters of B'way plays...i STILL want to see Avenue Q)


(a lake at Central Park)

Niagra Falls

the prisoner's wife?

who really knows. we made it back safely after a week of visiting. it was WONDERFUL to see beloved, although the city we stayed in was a bore. he is almost in Canada, he's so far away from the city! but it was great seeing/touching/kissing/holding him. he is doing well. he looks older now. perhaps that is due to the weight he has gained, but he is still sexy!

i haven't posted in...forever. i don't know where my head has been. i haven't written any poems, any letters to beloved, any posts...in such a long time. the words all seem jumbled and foreign. beloved has been wondering when he will get a letter from me, but we talk on the phone almost daily, so i guess i just don't have anything to write. nothing EXCITING is going on here. i am off for the summer. the little one & i are just roaming around the neighborhood, taking trips to the park or bookstore, almost daily. the only new thing is that i've started a new eating plan. i'm giving the Fat Smash Diet a shot. so for the last 7 days i haven't eaten any meat, bread, or sugar. it's not so bad, but i do want a cheeseburger LOL. what can i say, i do like meat! lol

this post is going no where....beloved has an immigration hearing tomorrow, don't know why it's happening so soon, but i guess we will find something out. wish him luck! hopefully he won't be barred from this country for life...*sigh*

i am going to stop rambling now...i pray you all are well.

I.
way too much going on to really recount what i've been up to over the past few weeks. at present, i am feverishing grading a MOUND of papers (procrastination is a mutha!). it's almost midnight & grades are due tomorrow! tomorrow also brings the last day of school (ashe!). i am so happy this year is over & done with. i've learned a lot about myself. learned that i'm not the dopest teacher on the planet...yet...*smile*...i've got lots of growing to do, but i am much more patient than i once thought.

II.
recently i stepped out of my comfort zone & began taking Capoeira--Afro-Brazilian martial arts. after my first class, every single inch of my body ached. i could barely walk, let alone attemp a one-leged push-up! but i kept going. today i am a lot less sore, a lot more confident in my Ginga & ready to learn even more. playing Capoeira makes me feel powerful. i feel like i have the spitit and the energy of the ancestors coursing through my limbs with each movement. perhaps i am overthinking it, but i like the way i feel when i am in the roda.

III.
friday we are flying out to see beloved. i can't wait to see him & this belly he speaks of! it has been over 6 months since i looked him in his eyes and said hello. for a week we will dance, wine & dub on the visit floor...slow & savoring every inch of time.

I rarely check my email anymore, but recently I received a note from a woman whose boyfriend is locked up (hello, if you’re reading). She wanted some advice. I wondered what profound bit of information I could offer to comfort and guide her? All of my years of education, and nearly two years of dealing with THIS, led me to one clichéd phrase: take it one day at a time.

Since this journey (and blog) began I have been so full of colliding emotions: doubt, love, blame, dedication, sadness, joy…each fighting for a seat on my train of thought. I have made it through all of this by sheer divine force. It is a wonder I haven’t gone (completely) crazy yet, but we women aren’t afforded the luxury to lose our minds, permanently.

I have my moments, fits of crying—always hushed—where I feel I can’t go on like this, trapped by the distance and loneness. But the alternative…isn’t even in question.

This weekend was the first time beloved and I actually spoke the gravity of the years we are facing out loud to each other.

Ten summers will pass before he is home
Our son will be just about to turn 13
I will be pushing 38
And the world
Will have changed so much

Everyday I question what I/he/we will look like in 10 years. Ten years from now, what will “us” even feel like?

beloved's voice came
clear cross rivers
and cities and lakes
and projects and concrete
and razor wire

greeting me
slick and soft like
he was tryin to
win me over
again

i was open

savoring
each word
as if it were my last meal
on earth

untitled poem # 23

the warehouse heaves
two million bodies       stored efficiently
   head to toe to head
bunks stacked high     holding     families

are collateral damage
searched and questioned and branded
guilty for maintaining some semblance
of togetherness      a patchwork
of relationships carved out amid surveillance
privacy is a luxury     not sold
in the commissary