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Refugees, Internments, and History Lessons...

Today and tomorrow mark a week since the Lebanon and Paris attacks , respectively. Syrian refugees have been fleeing their homeland for the better part of four years now though many people just recently started paying attention to the Syrian Refugee Crisis , and now that they are  paying attention, the idiot ideas are flying. One of the most atrocious ideas to be proposed is that we round up the Syrians and put them away in internment camps like we did Japanese-Americans during WII. The letter essentially suggests that President Franklin D. Roosevelt had it right when we did that.  I suppose this mayor of Roanoke, VA doesn't quite understand that pretty much everyone views that decision to lock up American citizens who happened to look  like the same people who attacked Pearl Harbor as a reprehensible and overall bad idea. (Granted, the idea was supported at the time, but hindsight is 20/20.) I guess he missed that day in History class. I guess the mayor and others like hi

Celebrate! It's Women's History Month

March is Women's History Month! I intend to celebrate as best I can, by doing what I do--writing and discussing. My celebration of history and knowledge began in earnest last month in my attempt to celebrate and Remember the Past in a series of blog posts about the lives and contributions of Black Americans to the growth of this nation. (Click the links to the right under February 2015 for the posts.) I intended to write a post a day, but life got in the way. As much as I wanted to write daily and share my knowledge about history, esp. Black History, there are just so many hours in the day and job, kids, husband, grading, sleeping, decompressing from life usurped my extra writing time. So, instead of attempting to blog daily, I'll just do what I can. This month I turn to women contributions. Rather than focusing solely on history, I'll focus on women in general and the stories, the history, the contributions, the issues... all of it. But also note that in light of

Remember the Past: The Assassination in the Ballroom

The stage after the assassination. The circles are bullet holes. Fifty years ago today, Brother Minister Malcolm X stood before a crowded room in the Audubon Theatre and Ballroom to speak. Some time after he began speaking, someone yelled, "Nigger, get your hand out my pocket." A ruckus began, the bodyguards moved towards the commotion and in the distraction and confusion, several assassins approached the podium and shot down Brother Minister Malcolm X. In my plans to blog about lesser known Black Americans and their contributions, Malcolm X doesn't quite fit squarely into that category. He's well known. People know his name even if they aren't really sure what he stood for. There's a movie about his life. He's often held up in contrast to Dr. Martin L. King. Although he's not considered a "safe negro" like the other blacks who are discussed ad naseum year after year in attempts to "honor" February and Black History Month, h

Remember the Past: A Personal Reflection

Recently, I read an article that claimed that Alberta King (Dr. Martin Luther King's mother) was assassinated too. She was shot by a mentally unstable person while playing the organ at her church. While this information is incorrect (yes, she was murdered but not assassinated), the larger point of the article was that despite the author's parents purposely ensuring that he was well acquainted with Black Historical figures, by and large, the activists were men and the women were mostly artists--writers, poets, playwrights, singers, etc. In working on this series of Remember the Past posts, I'm recalling all sorts of history lessons I was fortunate to receive throughout my youth. As I read that article, I realized that my lessons were not painted in that way so that the activists and fighters were mostly men and the women were in essence, the artsy supporting roles. From age 6 until 15 (with a few years absence), I was fortunate enough to participate in a play at my church

Remember the Past: The Men who were called Boy

I recently watched this video of Samuel L. Jackson describing his childhood in Chattanooga, TN. In this video, Jackson recalls going to work with his grandfather as a child and his grandfather being called "boy" by the white men who worked in the real estate office his grandfather cleaned. His grandfather called them "Mr" So-and-so, but they called his grandfather "boy." His grandfather also scolded Jackson about looking the men in their eyes when he talked with them and frequently asking them questions.  Conversing with and asking questions of whites wasn't something blacks were allowed to do. Even as a child, Jackson realized there was something odd about the dynamic between the two sets of men. The white men were called "mister" by his grandfather (and other blacks) while the white men were allowed to call the black men "boy." Boy. Mister. I've heard my own tales of the word "boy" my whole life. My own fat

Remember the Past: The Unwitting Mother of Immortal Cells

Family illnesses and life falling down around me has delayed my posts. Goodness have I got to catch up!  In the meantime, allow this next Remember the Past post to introduce you to Henrietta Lacks: The Unwitting Mother of Immortal Cells Thanks to efforts of writers, some  scientists, some  doctors, and Mrs. Lacks family after  they found out, Henrietta Lacks now receives the proper acknowledgement that she deserves. In life , Lacks was sadly not much different from other people of her era--lots of siblings, married young, produced lots of babies, died of illness at a young age. However, in death , although completely unknown to her family for TWENTY years after her death, Lacks' cells (taken from her without her knowledge or permission by George Otto Gey) would become the first human immortal cell line for medical research: HeLa Cells. Lacks grew up in the shadows of slavery in Virginia. After her mother died in 1924, her father parceled Lacks and her nine other s

Remember the Past: Les Gens de Couleur Libres

Yes, I'm a day behind, but here's to it... I dedicate this post to my wonderful, brilliant niece who might  be taking a new interest in history, and that makes me even prouder on so many levels. Today, I'll introduce you to Les Gens de Couleur Libres (The Free People of Color). Free Women of Color with their Children and Servants in a Landscape Painting by Agostino Brunias Some years back, a cousin asked had I seen the film Feast of All Saints.  I had not. She proceeded to tell me of the plot of the movie wherein the Les Gens de Couleur Libres--the Free People of Color-- living in New Orleans were an entire class of people living in the slave state of Louisiana before  the Civil War ended.  My mind was blown. I'd never heard of these people. I was mad that I had not, but I instantly wanted to know all I could. Growing up, I always knew there were Blacks scattered throughout the country prior to 1863 and 1865 who were free through various means--buying thei

Remember the Past: The First Lady's Seamstress and Confidante

Hopefully, you had a chance to read my first post in this Remember the Past series; it was about Dr. Charles Drew. In this next post, I'm going to introduce you to Elizabeth Keckley: The First Lady's Seamstress and Confidante . Elizabeth Keckley was born a slave in Virginia in 1818. She became a seamstress and made dresses for the women of the area. Through her work as a seamstress, she was able to purchase her and  her son's freedom in 1855. In D.C., she made beautiful dresses for the socialites. Her reputation for style, flair, and expert fit helped her score the ultimate client: First Lady Mary Todd Lincoln, who was known as a clotheshorse. (It's believed that she overspent her 1861 clothes stipend by $6,000 .) Keckley ended up becoming more than just FLOTUS Lincoln's dressmaker; she became a friend and confidante.  The death of both women's sons within several months of one another helped bring them even closer. After President Lincoln was assass

Mini-Remembrance: The Poet, Novelist, Playwright, and Renaissance Man

Yesterday, I started my Remember the Past series with the intent to highlight lesser-known Black Americans during this February.  My first post is about Dr. Charles Drew, the Father of Blood Banks. However, shortly after posting that first entry, I discovered that February 1 is Langston Hughes' birthday.  Hughes is obviously well known and studied in many high school classes, so he doesn't quite fit into my intended theme for Remember the Past, BUT I had to commemorate his birthday, esp. since he's one of my favorite poets.  I've been exposed to Hughes' work since middle school, so it wasn't a big surprise that I'd choose to do extensive research projects on him during grad school. When thinking of my admiration for Hughes, his work, and the impression it left on my life, words fail me.  So, I'll just say Happy Birthday Mr. Hughes! I'll leave you with one of poems that had a very lasting impression on me. Let America Be America Again

Remember the Past: The Father of Blood Banks

As discussed in this post , I intend to do posts about Black Americans' throughout the month of February. Beyond February, I intend to post about historical figures. This is the first post. Charles Drew: The Father of Blood Banks Dr. Charles Drew was a doctor and surgeon who developed ways to store blood plasma in blood banks. I chose him first because the story of his life and death left an indelible impression on the 6 year old me. I now know the story I learned of his death is a myth (explained below), but his life's work and its contribution to life today is still VERY impressive. During high school and college, Drew excelled in many sports; the sports helped him attend college. He attended Amherst College in Massachusetts. After receiving his B.S. degree, he worked as a biology teacher at Morgan State University (then Morgan College) in Baltimore, MA. After two years at Morgan, he attended McGill University in Montreal, Canada. He excelled in his studies, and

Black History Month begins again... Let's celebrate ALL history all year.

As I've described in other posts recently, I've been a student of history, esp. Black American History, since I was barely in elementary school. However, in recent years, I (like many others, such as Morgan Freeman ) have begun to question why we should have one month designated to one particular race's history--even if it is my race. Why shouldn't we study all races all the time ? My questions stem from my anger over the fact that children in most American schools are getting a piss-poor education in history, period, full stop, end of. So many of my students have no tangible, working knowledge of so many things of history. Even fully grown adults who are intelligent in so many other ways lack knowledge of history and frequently, the desire to even learn (even if they admit they know they should know). Ted Gup complained about this in his article "So Much for the Information Age." Each February, most schools trot out the same old figures of Black History

The Essence of Planned Obsolescence

While shopping recently, I reached for refill blades for my favorite razor, only to recoil my hand in horror. As the image shows, the razor itself + one blade is a bit over 4$; however the cost of 5 refill blades is nearly twice the cost of the razor at 8.23$. Are you shitting me? So, essentially, you're trying to make me believe that it costs twice as much to make thin ass safety blades with their strip of aloe and tuck them in a nice cute box as it does to make the actual razor of plastic, metal, and whatever else plus a blade. Really?! I'm not buying it--figuratively AND literally. I stood there in the aisle appalled at the thought of this. Annoyed at the nerve of the makers. Enraged at planned obsolescence. Though companies could make products that would last longer, they choose not to so they can make more money. And with replacement blades that actually cost nearly twice as much as the original blade, you can be damn sure they are making tons of money. Pla

Reflections on Dr. King, Society, Race and Life

I used to hate that I was from Memphis (and loathe  that I'm from the South). As a child, I felt ashamed that my city was the place that killed Dr. King and took that wonderful, transformative man from his family and from the world. As I got older and began to understand the full weight of American history, especially the history of Blacks in this country, my shame often turned to anger. As I aged, I understood better that my city  didn't kill Dr. King but evil citizens who were in  my city killed Dr. King. And while there is plenty of evidence to suggest collusion with city leaders (which would suggest that the city did  help to kill him) and even the United States was found to be responsible for his death , the city itself did not kill Dr. King, and the assassination didn't stop his work. The more I studied his assassination and history, I also realized that if it hadn't have been Memphis, it would've been another city. It just so happened that it was my city. I s

Just F*#@ing Ban Them

It is becoming painfully obvious to anyone paying attention to the full scope of things that this country is NOT equal under the law. People of Color do not have equal protection under the law (we never have), we do not receive equal treatment in the courts, and we damn sure don't receive equal treatment by all cops. Laws do not apply fairly to everyone and now, citizens are taking it upon themselves to help  police with their jobs and that's only making things worse. Open and Concealed Carry Laws have never been applied equally. On May 2, 1967, the Black Panther Party walked into the State Capitol building in California carrying loaded guns . This was completely legal. At that time, California was an open carry state. The Black Panthers were merely exercising their Second Amendment Rights (as we have so frequently heard from groups of armed men and women all across the country in recent years). Their actions, prompted CA assemblyman Don Mulford to draft the Mulford Act , w