Category Archives: Uncategorized

Urban Eve: Birth of a Nation Review

I could go on for awhile about how incredible every aspect of this film is, from the stunning cinematography, to the direction, the score, the writing, the performances and brilliant casting, but there are two main aspects I would like to highlight in this review.

I was struck in the first 20 minutes at a scene in which Nat Turners father is humiliated by White land overseers for trying to get food for his. This scene played like a mirror reflection of the hundreds of Black men who have been, lynched, tortured and murdered in the last 3-4 years for doing nothing but being Black and alive.

When I was a young girl watching “Roots” for the hundreth time in the late 80s, I did not feel the closeness of these atrocities breathing on my neck the way I did in the theater on last Saturday afternoon. Not all the Gil Nobles and “Tony Brown’s Journals” and “Eyes on the Prizes” kept me from feeling like I couldn’t still walk the streets freely and ignorantly, feeling that that we had made sure progress, that that was then and this was now and that as Blacks, we were now protected by freedoms we were once deprived of. I knew then with the certainty and privilege of the sheltered that things could never slide back into that horribly inhuman time not so long ago when my people were slaughtered for wanting to drink, eat and go to school with people who were taught to believe we were less than human.

But here we are in the middle of one of the most sadistically surreal and nightmarish election cycles between two candidates; one, an outlandishly unqualified racist, sexist bigot and the other insidiously deceptive, corrupt and elitist, neither of whom I can get behind with the remotest of enthusiasm. We have been recorded being shot and killed, choked and beaten at the hands of an insane and pathologically fearful Police force and the jails are being filled with Black men and boys at the highest rate ever to make corporations rich.

For most Black people watching BOAN, the only difference between Black slavery in the America of the 1800s and 2016 may seem merely like the change of date. I could not, no matter how hard I tried distance myself from the constant fear in my chest that erupted each time Nat Turner was afforded the kind of experience that every human being has the right to; learning to read, earning the role as a servant of his people through his preaching of the Bible, falling in love, getting married. I went to see the film with SoulSistah4real and we did our share of moaning, sighing, humming and everything short of rocking ourselves to keep from feeling so deeply what we feel on a regular basis whenever we learn about the next Black person who had their lives taken by someone who was challenged by their right to exist.

And then there’s  BOAN’s stance on  Christianity. Never before have I seen such an indictment of Christianity’s role in our mental slavery. But perhaps it was only overtly clear to me because I have Black people around me who constant feed me with information to support this truth. By the time I saw this film it was like a glaring confirmation of what has already become clear to me. When they gave us the Bible, they took us for real. It’s much easier to free someone physically than it is to free their minds. White people stay knowing this, even on a subconscious level. They are the masters of mind fucking. That’s what “Mad Men” is predicated on after all. That’s what the whole survival of the White race has always rested on. Bamboozling, swindling, stealing, robbing, poisoning, swapping out our connection to the divine with a symbol and valuing the worship of that symbol above all things, using it to justify all kinds of crimes, perversions, wars and genocides.

The use of score in edition to several beautiful visual elements, illustrating the spiritual connection of Nat’s selection as a prophet and leader of his people to ancient African oracle is undeniable and beautiful. Wherever there was a reminder, a token, anything to remind the viewer that the ancestors were present, moving Nat towards his destiny, I felt elated.

To witness the evolution of Nat Turner’s disillusionment with the ways in which his learned connection to God through Christianity has been pawned at the hands of his own Master and a crooked pastor, is to watch most of us flailing on a daily basis in a void, trying to make a home out of no home, trying to claim a right to rights that were never meant to protect us, trying to claim our rights as Americans in a land our forefathers were stolen to build when the word American was never meant to describe us. It is to see the way in which we have been and still are truly enslaved by Christianity.

I would recommend this film to everyone. I think it should be used as an educational tool and that class trips should be planned to go see it. It is the first major release of an American slave narrative film of this era that I know of, which brilliantly depicts resistance in slave rebellion  as more than just the breaking of physical chains and the literal removal of oppressors. It does this with humanity, vulnerability, passion, love and fearlessness. It starts what some may deem to be a controversial discourse about exactly how far America has come around issues of racism, law enforcement/enslavement amd true liberation for Black people. If America has just been trading one form of enslavement in for another, what does Black liberation really look like?

In Bed with Solange

All my niggas in the whole wide world

play this song and sing it on your terms…

 

In a moment of much needed intimacy, my husband laid in bed with me last weekend and held me while listening to Solanges’s “A Seat at the Table” the only album I’ve been listening to on repeat since it was released. For me, good music always shows up at the right time, for healing, for protest,  rejoicing, reflection, meditation, mourning and more.

For me, it came at a time when a recent personal challenge had me folding in on myself and all I could do was rest and wait. I played “A Seat at the Table” on my iphone for the first time while under covers and it seeped in through the cracks of my sadness like water. It gently elevated my mood into a lighter but stronger place. I couldn’t deny it’s bold and reflective Black and feminine message and the authentic space it has carved out alongside all the incredible unapologetic Blackness that’s been popping off everywhere lately, in film with “Birth of a Nation” in TV with “Queen Sugar,” “Atlanta” and more.

By the time my husband got on the bed with me I had probably listened to it several times and was still hearing new things, feeling new things. I laid up under him while he squeezed me and held me and we actually listened to the whole album together, singing and smiling, laughing and playing footsie to the beat with a candle burning. LOL!

I cherished every minute. I mean it was exactly what I needed in life. My man, my new favorite album and a sense of joy, promise and divine connection, despite everything.

Soul Shift

Times like these

I wish for witches

Wise women,

Apothecary instead of bodega,

Sitting by an open fire Sisters,

A long walk in the woods

Towards water,

A large rock to perch on while meditating

On the ripples of change,

Open air Sage and Santo Palo burning

Low united chanting

And soft but deliberate movements.

Times like this I wish for community rituals

And prayer through song,

The things white men tried to erase from me,

They return again before too long,

Breaking through the surface of violence and wicked wrong,

Tearing down the walls of fear and greed.

Life flows forever home

into her arms.

 

-ZGDaniel

10-1-16

Women by the Water

On Labor Day I walked down a few long blocks on the street where I live to the Boathouse near Inwood Hill Park. My husband took me there for the first time a few weeks ago and I just loved it. I knew this was going to be my new unplugging hangout. As soon as I arrive and walk down to the Boathouse dock I look out at the Hudson River and I just breath deeper. And the energy around everyone there, couples, loners, kids is just slower, calmer.

Women water gif.gif

I sat on one of the benches in front of the water with my eyes closed. I was there hoping to to catch another incredible sunset like the one I saw when I came with my husband. On the bench to the right of me was a couple with a little baby girl. Just yards in front of me on a bench closer to the rocky shore was a couple, a young girl with her head on her boyfriends shoulder. To my far left I could see a young boy who had climbed out onto the rocks and was skipping rocks on the water. I closed my eyes again and felt a soft breeze roll over me. There was a scent on the air that I couldn’t identify right away. Was it herb? No, Sage. Someone was burning sweet sage. When I opened my eyes I saw that a woman who had walked over from the left entrance was sitting on the rocks with her back to me. She had burned some sage and lifted it up high above her head and turned, facing East, West, North and South before sitting down again to meditate. The smell of sage burning in the open air smelled wonderful. I was thankful for it.

I watched the woman and thought about my how my mother used to send my brother and I to her friends home in Harlem to gather with other children our age to learn about Black history, to watch educational films and to sit in healing circles where we passed around a smudging stick made of Sage. My mom burned a lot of Frankincense and Myrrh while I was growing up and she also dressed her candles with scented oils and glitter. I can remember smelling them and gazing at the glitter floating around in the wax. I didn’t know what it all meant. It was all regular beauty to me. These practices were part of ancient ritual cleansings and prayers for peace, love, abundance and manifestation of personal dreams through visualization in meditation.

This is the third time I’ve seen a woman in a public park doing a ritual by the water, praying, singing, meditating. There’s something healing about the water that we recognize intrinsically as women. It has a power we feel deeply connected to. At least I do. I always have. I tried to imagine a time when I would ever come out to the water alone to bless the space around me and praise the elements before I prayed. I don’t know. I think I’d like to do it in a guided meditation with other women. Seeing these women inspired me to think more about organizing a circle like that in my new hangout space.

I hope that all of their prayers and wishes come to pass.

 

 

Goodbye Black Beauty Box

I saw the update in their IG feed yesterday. In my mind the thought “We can’t have nothin” popped up. I had paid up for the next six months. September will now be the last and all six month subscribers will be refunded the remainder of their payment.

siiiiiggh…..I can’t help wondering what really happened.

Julep

Stitch fix (which sucks in my opinion. I cancelled my shipments a month ago)

Gwynnie Bee

Still rolling along. But the one and only beauty box subscription I know of that catered to Black women and Black businesses is now discontinued, over and done.

“The landscape for monthly subscription boxes has changed…” was the only response repeatedly given by way of explanation to various sad and annoyed inquiries like mine.

What does that mean?

I’m not going to act like the Essence Beauty Box was always on point but for me it became one the best things about a magazine which, in my opinion has been struggling to keep up with the times both aesthetically and content wise. My monthly beauty box exposed me to some products which have now become staples in my life and beauty regimen, and I so looked forward to my little monthly treat of five or six hot beauty products formulated with my skin, hair, face and body in mind. It made me feel special. I squealed with joy every time my box came to my office in the mail. It just didn’t last long enough.

So I hope this last September box is amazing. I won’t spend too much time missing it. Instead I’ll start looking into how to create a subscription box that someone like me would love. Because I guess this is the part where you have to create what you feel is missing in the market right?

Right.

 

 

 

I use it in my Salad, I use it on my Face

Apple Cider Vinegar is the main ingredient in my nightly facial toner.

By now you must know that ACV has varying healing, cleansing and balancing properties for your skin. Until a few months ago I’d always heard but never known it for myself until I started using it myself. I saw the difference right away. Spots on my skin have started to fade, my skin feels tighter and smoother.

APPLE CIDER VINEGAR!!!

You know how long I keep a bottle of AVC in my kitchen?

MONTHS.

Over a year.

It lasts forever. It’s strong stuff so a little goes a long way since it’s always advised to dilute when taking internally or applying to skin.

I will never buy toner or toner like products again.

Every night I wash my make-up off, cleanse with Witch Hazel and dab on a mixture of ACV, water and a few drops of tea tree oil. My skin creates it’s own oil so I don’t feel the need to moisturize before bed, only in th2011-10-16-make-apple-cider-vinegar-586x322-mg3g5is5kebou8u8myglputahnqssrszkq7u6ztspwe morning before I put on make-up. I look forward to this nightly ritual, of patting my face with cotton ball, knowing that the ACV is working it’s antibacterial, anti-fungal magic during the night.

Products that have a multitude of uses like ACV, coconut oil and Dr Bronners Soap are the shit to me. Like I’m really trying to focus on investing in  products that you can do at least two or more things with. If I’m buying make-up I love for it to be something I can use on my face, eyes and lips. Not only does it save money but it also appeals to the child in me that still loves to play with my food or taste what I put on my face or wash my hair with. LOL!

 

“Who Shot Sports?” Javan Emory

What I really loved about this exhibition at the Brooklyn Museum was the story told about each photo, about each photographer and about how and why they made or captured the photo. I was able to spend a good amount of time with most all the images, looking at them and then reading about them which gave me a deeper understanding about the historical context, the photographer’s views and the reasons  why each photographer worked within the genre of sports photography, what they looked for and whose work they were inspired by. I was excited to view this exhibit but I had not been expected to be so absorbed by it. I’m not a sports fanatic in the least but I do love photography and the power behind images that capture the magic and majesty of the sports player in motion and in stillness.

Although I tend to love taking photos of work at exhibitions, particularly those that restrict them, (heh) I went to this one knowing that I wanted to take everything in and not be distracted by the pressure to capture anything at all. So much work had already gone into the images selected for this show. I just wanted to take it all in.

The only photo I did take was of an image in the very beginning of the exhibit of a man named Javan Emory by an anonymous photographer. The monochromatic photo of a Black man with the catcher’s mask on, posed firmly like a tree taken between the 1870s-180s was irresistible to me. The fact that the photographer was unknown made it all the more necessary to sneak a shot, though of course the image can be found by quickly Googling the name Javan Emory.  Here’s what really gripped me when I read the card about Emory.

“Javan Van Emory was a celebrated catcher at a time when catching was dangerous and required real courage. His capabilities as a catcher during an exhibition game for a National League “proved to be so threatening that Major league baseball drew the color line in direct response.” It also goes on to describe that the regard that fans, Black and White had for him was also reflected in the unknown photographers use of dramatic light and composition as well as the “sensitivity to the different techniques required for lighting Black skin which, is modeled by highlight rather than shadow. It is also seen in the photographers decision to pose the subject in a forceful posture with direct eye contact.”

The image itself grabbed me immediately as I walked slowly passed early sports photos wherein players  had to emulate movement to communicate motion at a time when photographic methods was not yet created to capture speed. But the more I read about the image, the man, the dangers of the catchers position in early baseball and the legend of Emory’s skill, the more I loved it. I wondered what kind of man he was and who he could have been as a sports figure if he had not been held back. And I was thankful for the photographer who honorably created this portrait of Emory and allowed his powerful dignity to shine through in one image perhaps the only one that ever existed of Emory, suited up for a sport he clearly had an exceptional talent and passion for.

15 Minutes

The past few weeks at my job, I have elected to take a 15 minute break that I’ve been allowed to take since I started working here full time in 2006. I don’t know why I never elected to take it before. But in any case, during a meeting I had with my supervisor about my time, I decided I would take my 15 minute break every day at noon.

So the in the past week or so, everyday at noon I go outside. I walk. I breath in the fresh air. I look up at the sky and the clouds and I feel grateful to be outside. Often, will run an errand nearby, drop in at Sephora, shoot an Instagram story, maybe buy a snack but really, I just enjoy being outdoors, even if it is just in the city. It makes me appreciate life more and it makes the work day itself go by a little faster, a little smoother.

There is so much to be thankful for, to love and appreciate and most of the day all I hear is complaining. I need to be in a space with people who want to rejoice, to celebrate, to love and to speak about what they love and why. What’s good? What’s great? Despite everything! Lets talk about the deeper meaning behind what it means to love the life you live or to be working towards it.

Today

I just decided today after my 15 minute break that I’m using this weekend to really declutter our apartment. We’ve been there two years and still have not gotten rid of stuff we brought over from the old apartment! I’m already imagining how amazing it will be to move to our next, bigger even more wonderful space, taking only things we need because we’ve already gotten rid of everything we don’t! I mean this is doable! So I’m doing it! I’m so excited! Because I can feel it day by day when stuff is starting to pile up around me, when I buy things and then immediately forget I bought them, when I can’t remember where that thing I liked so much disappeared to or when I’m holding on to empty containers of things I know I should get rid of but I don’t.

Why do we do this?

It’s a symptom of something deeper and unresolved and the more I search and study ways to achieve peace and center, to manifest vision, the more I realize that life is actually a lot simpler than we make it, particularly if you know what you want. And the closer I get to knowing what I want the more I seek to make it as simple as possible.

Washing the Cat or There will be Blood

Cat lovers gather around.

I’m only writing about this because I love my cat and this experience, unlike the one I vaguely recall about washing our family cat when I was a girl, was pretty freaking traumatic. I am so glad that my husband and I worked as a team on this because otherwise it would never have happened. And it needed to happen at least once.

I really hate doing things for my cat that stress him out or make him feel threatened. I only clean his paws whenever he used the litter box because of my husband. We never did that with my family cat. Cats are the cleanest animals ever. They spend like half the day cleaning themselves and sleeping. But I do it for my husband. I do it even when he’s not around. It’s our agreement.

So Thursday afternoon we’re in the bathroom filling a basin with water and using another plastic container to scoop water and generally prepping ourselves and the area while Jet stands on top of the toilet lid looking at us like, what is about to happen here? I Know you don’t think I’m getting in that right? Do you? Wait, what the hell?

And we’re all it’s okay, it’ll be all right. We got this special cat shampoo at Target formulated for sensitive cat skin by JP Mitchell himself!

Cat’s for the most part do not like being submerged in water. They’re curious about it, play with it a bit, drink it but they give no fucks about your external cleaning products and want no parts of it.

We barely lowered Jet into the basin of medium temperature water before he panicked, scrambled up the front of my husbands torso and was held there by him for the next harrowing 20 minutes or so.

There was blood.

I got a few nicks on my left hand but I barely paid attention to that. I accepted I would get scratched when we first adopted Jet. I don’t take it personally. However I was worried about my husband whom Jet was digging his claws into because of sheer horror. But my husband who loves the cat as much as I do was very very calm and instructed me to continue pouring water on our traumatized cat and to shampoo and rinse him. I looked in Jets eyes and it literally looked as if he wanted to leave his body. It was so painful for me to see that. I ran and got him some treats to eat to distract him and hopefully to give him something positive to focus on. I could see him struggling to make choices but he did eat all the treats. I kept asking my husband if he was okay, if his back was okay, because I could see the holes in his t-shirt. I was worried for both of them.

When it was over we still had to towel him off a bit because you’re not supposed to let newly washed pets walk around sopping wet. That was a little easier because we were able to let him down and he didn’t take off running or start shaking. There is nothing more pathetic and dejected looking than a wet cat.

After that he walked off to a corner by the closet and the apartment door and went to work Jetlicking himself all over. I actually sat next to him while he worked, you know just in case he needed support. LOL!!!

It was actually quite amazing. Cat tongues are the most efficient cleaning and grooming tools I have ever seen. In about half an hour he was dry, clean, soft and shiny and later on he was laid out on our bed, stomach exposed and fast asleep while my husband used the cat brush on him. Jet was loving it. Apparently he doesn’t hold grudges.

I still slept with one eye open that night though.

LOL!

Be a Beauty Alchemist

The best way to become beautiful

is to recognize who you are.

So as I mentioned earlier, I’ve been testing out some face primers and just exchanged a concealer that turned out to be too light for me for one that is my perfect brown chocolate shade. More on that later.

I realize that if I’m going to be wearing more make-up more often that I will have to take even better care of my skin, meaning more water, more regular exercise (got in a few days at the gym while off from work) and deeper daily cleansing. As an Essence Box subscriber I received a pack of Dickinsons Witch Hazel towelettes in their July Box. I’ve been experiencing an unexpected cluster of breakouts on the lower right corner of my chin since I started using Raw African Soap. I read that this could be expected in the beginning as the soap draws out impurities but it’s still annoying. I tapped two drops of tea tree on one of the towelette and dabbed my face concentrating on affected areas. It felt so good, so fresh, clean and tightening.

I went to a local Duane-Reade to look for Dickinsons or something like it but they didn’t even have pure Witch Hazel. There’s always some product enhanced by or infused with something natural as opposed to just the pure product itself. And I’m starting to realize that as my girl soulsistah4real says, ACV, Coconut Oil and Shea Butter can be used for everything! LOL!

But seriously folks.

If you strip most skin care products down, the core ingredient was something we could have at one time, grown, picked, juiced, ground, mixed, bottled and applied ourselves, things that heal, feed, cleanse, sooth and condition your skin to act as a healthy, glowing canvas for whatever you chose to decorate it with.

Face PaintMake-up is ancient! And so is skin care. Not so many years ago, pure Witch Hazel was something you could buy at most any drugstore. And there may still be some but not as many. There’s not as much money to be made if the one shelf in the skin care section only has like six or seven products. Our freedom of choice is just a marketing tool after all. The truth is there really are only a few basic skin products you need.

The rest is just make-up.