All this talk about drilling really has me thinking about one of the items on my Bucket List:

· Learn how to use a drill to absolute perfection.

You see my Bucket List isn’t a summary of things I want to do before I die, but rather it’s a compilation of things I want and need to learn, and here’s the best part, while I am still single. Not to say marriage is akin to kicking the bucket (although quite a few of my married friends may say that it is), but there’s just some things I want to know and accomplish especially while I’m single. Learning to drill so that I can put up my own shelves, install my own cabinets and fix my own stuff is one of those things– a marker if you will– in my journey to live liberated and independently.

For years, I’ve had a myriad of men—my daddy, boyfriends, the super, a neighbor, all come over to play handyman with their drills and bits. I’ve watched, even held the screws and nails, but usually end up in the kitchen cooking some fab meal as part of my payment for said work. Totally clichéd and ladylike… yuck! Lately this scenario has grown real tired because inadvertently, I’m also at the mercy of these handymen. Waiting for them to be available, hoping they can swing uptown when I’m home, hoping they won’t want more than baked chicken and okra for compensation. It’s a pain in the you-know-what and leaves me feeling quite disempowered. So screw them and their nuts-n-bolts! Right now I have five brown boxes from IKEA that have been sitting in my apartment for six months waiting to be assembled. My tiny NYC kitchen longs for those two beautiful chrome shelves to take the burden up of all the pots, woks and pans currently strewn about haphazardly. I feel like if I can get those heavy boxes home by myself from behind God’s back in Red Hook, Brooklyn, which involves a ferry and a somewhat long subway ride home, then I can put the blasted, yet beautiful two-shelf wall console together by myself. Waiting almost half a year for someone who has yet to show-up to do an installation is akin to waiting half a lifetime for a man to appear and put a ring on it. So on Sunday I’m off to Home Depot for my drill and my lesson. Even though I’m hoping BP and our current administration will find alternative sources of energy, my personal mantra is now drill, baby, drill!

Regardless of your marital status and gender, is there anything you hope to learn or accomplish this summer? This year? If so, what & why?

Sonia Sanchez– my favorite poet, was honored at this year’s Harlem Book Fair. The Book Fair, which I feel is searching for the relevance it once had was clearly leaning on the popularity of the “street lit” community yet still kept its stride with the legends. Most of the vendors on 135th Street were hawking fried whiting sandwiches and books like “Baby Mamas Got Luv Too” (I made that up!:). But in light of this year’s theme, which highlighted women, authors like Sonia Sanchez and Terry McMillan were in the house reading from their latest works. I had a chance to interview sister-mother Sonia for The Root. In the clip above she talks about what attributes women need to be powerful writers.

Please click HERE for the full interview where she discusses the future of Black books, hip hop and Isabel Allende.

Last Wednesday morn lovely styleaholic Najwa tweeted: “Just heard some very disturbing news about Essence magazine.” I tweeted back: “Did they fold?” Never got a response because I forgot to type the friggin “@” symbol. Then on Sunday I saw this Facebook update by cultural critic & former Essence Fashion Editor Michaela angela Davis: “It is with a heavy heavy heart I have learned that Essence magazine…,” okay by now I’m thinking, ‘Oh God, Susan Taylor must have died.’ So with equal parts dread and anxiety I finished reading her status: “…has engaged a white fashion director.”

Whew, that’s it! I exhaled. I was relieved and honestly, initially, did not get what all the drama and pain was about. But as I read through some of the 50 or so comments that were posted almost immediately on Michaela’s page that day it became clear that many writers and supporters of Essence felt betrayed. Michaela continued in her post by stating: “If there were balance in the industry; if we didn’t have a history of being ignored and disrespected; if more mainstream fashion media included people of color before the ONE magazine dedicated to black women ‘diversified’, it would feel different.” There were many commenters though that disagreed, like the one who offered: “I’m surprised that everyone assumes this is terrible news simply because the new person is White. We know absolutely zero about them besides that.”

Personally speaking, Essence WAS definitely a place where I found nurturing and inspiration. My first job was at Essence and I was first published in Essence, but honestly I haven’t thought of Essence as being a Black creative sanctuary in at least 10 years. Honey had been that sanctuary and currently Arise and my own venture– theHotness.com are filling that void for me. When I look at Michaela or my homegrrrls Sharon, Karen and Joicelyn I see Black style, creativity and sass. I see imagination, edge and what I like to call a distinct “Black Aesthetic.” Sorry, I haven’t seen that in Essence in quite some time and as such it’s lost all relevance in my life.

Comrade and fellow journalist Esther commented on her FB page:

Essence. The magazine that was a visual & lyrical home for a global black female audience hires a white fashion director. It was the place me and so many other daughters of the diaspora gathered each month to (view) the images that spanned the spectrum and juiciness of brown gorgeousness.

Reading that I immediately realized that this love for Essence—this great outpouring of emotion– was mostly a nostalgic love. Like fawning over an old lover who been done us wrong gurl! I’ve read over two hundred comments on this topic and not one person has said they are currently in love with Essence and that as a Black woman or even as a Black writer they find it empowering in 2010. Their mandate is ‘a dedication to Black women” but seriously folk, when is the last time they really honored that? Was it when they put Reggie Bush on the cover to celebrate “Black Love” when he was dating Kim Kardashian who, by the way, is not Black? Or maybe it was when they had P. Diddy on the cover to celebrate fatherhood. This of course was right after the birth of his twin daughters to his baby mama Kim and when he was denying his alleged love-child by another woman (which of course he later admitted was his chick on the side & that she had in fact given birth to his daughter) while also in court with his first baby mama Misa arguing over a lack of child support. As a magazine for Black women this is who you choose to idolize as Black manhood? Or it has to be this month’s issue where they replace Janet Jackson’s beautifully cropped coif with the seemingly ubiquitous and boring yaki yaki weave? That’s gotta make us sisters with short do’s feel so good about ourselves and our self-image! The emphasis on Euro aesthetics and designers abound and has so for quite some time. I feel they abandoned a distinct Black creative and cultural style aesthetic for ad dollars. Green over black baby! Honestly, I am way more upset over Steve Harvey being a damn relationship consultant on their staff than this new hire! Now that pisses me off! It wasn’t until my homeslice Joan brought it home with her hardcore, grassroots, no-nonsense response that I fully grasped what could be major repercussions as a result of this Essence new hire. She commented:

I could care less how qualified this woman is. This is not about fashion, trends, (or) how Essence is doing as a magazine. It’s deeper than that. This is about my bottom line and my livelihood. When these same institutions start to employ hiring practices that allow black publishing professionals (like me) the same access to their publications, that’s when I can get all Kumbaya about Essence’s new fashion editor. Right now though all I’m seeing is yet another publication where a qualified black publishing professional is not going to be able to find work.

Even though I don’t wholly agree with the outcry, I do wholeheartedly understand. Seriously, I cringe at the thought of the new fashion director calling Armani or Diane Von Furstenberg or Tracy Reese or whomever they call nowadays to ask for something chic that represents the style of black women and knowing these designers and publicists will look across the table and see a pale face claiming to rep my style and culture. Awkward. Tragic. Disappointing, but certainly, at least from my point of view, not the least bit surprising or even earth shattering.

Click here for the official response from Angela Burt Murray– Essence Editor-in-Chief.

How do you feel about this new hire? Do you care? Do you still read Essence? Is this a “dark day” for Essence and Black media?

Bad girls make art that comes out of experience and not style. -Linda Goode Bryant

Have you seen the June/ July 2010 issue of VIBE magazine? It’s a double cover featuring Nicki Minaj and Erykah Badu. Both ladies are adorned in body paint. For Erykah it’s the kind inspired by the Indian henna work often seen on Hindu brides-to-be. Nicki’s body paint is more cartoonish than culturally based. Her entire upper body– ta-tas and all, are painted white to look like a form fitting bodysuit. One is organic homage, the other Murakami spectacle. Make no mistake they represent two distinct faces of Black female sexuality that permeates our culture today. In one corner you have the Barbie doll, bobble head, butt-up and boobs out brashness of Nicki Minaj. In the other corner there’s Erykah’s Queen mother, afroed, ankhed-down tease of curve and cleavage. No doubt either sister has a problem showing their as$ and their motivations may even be the same (record sales, buzz), but how their Black booties resonate within mainstream culture is a lil different.

Badu is a Bad Girl meaning she empowers and sets trends because she knows how to manipulate, allude and convolute around her bootyliciousness whereas Minaj surrenders her power by always giving up the reveal upfront. In this post-Luke, post-sex tape, post-Trina world, crotch shots don’t make you a rebel rouser; they just make you real regular. In VIBE, Erykah aka @fatbellybella states: “Society has a problem with female nudity when it is not packaged for the consumption of male entertainment. Then it becomes confusing.”

Meanwhile the Harajuku Barbie says in her interview, “I have to invent something to show that a girl can rap.” She then is quoted as spitting this for Lil Wayne: “I guess it’s my turn/ Maybe it’s time to put this pu**y on your sideburns.” Nah Naj, check yourself and check your rhymes. This only shows that a girl can prostitute herself for 8 bars of mediocrity.  If it took Bush to bring about Obama then I am optimistic that Nicki Minaj’s popularity will bring back Lauryn Hill who will dead this nonsense.

Here are 5 other reasons why Nicki Minaj is NOT a Bad Girl:

1. Her hardcore, multi-colored wig shtick has been done before and perfected by Lil Kim like 8 years ago. Imitators are never radical they are just redundant.

2. Because she changed her last name to Minaj. We get it. You like threesomes. Thank god you didn’t do Nicki Minaj a Trois, but seriously Onika Maraj is beautiful and has way more weight and resonance.

3. Because her bizarre outfits, affected voices and weird facial expressions are more Shrek than they cause wreck. Being animated is cool and totally in the tradition of hip-hop ala Ol Dirty Bastard, Busta Rhymes and Flavor Flav, but if you have no real character and skill to pull from you end up falling flat. 3-D is in baby grrrl. Recognize!

4. Because Diddy is her manager. C’mon son. She’ll be pop, dropped and a centerfold for poppycock before she’s ever hip-hop. See resume of Aubrey O’Day and Cassie for details. Shyne and Mase are also good references.

5. “Massive Attack”

This Shirley Sherrod gaffe speaks volumes about the power of right-wingers, how women, especially Black women, are perceived and treated when ish hits the fan, and lastly, about the lack of investigative reportage nowadays. When Andrew Breitbart, a well known right-wing troublemaker can get the Obama administration to force the resignation of a senior official, this said more about our current administration, media, race and gender relations then it did about bad boy Breitbart.

What does it say about Black women? We are expendable, dispensable, and dangerous. The assumption that the NAACP, President Obama and the USDA made was, “Oh no, Shirley is showing her Angry-Black-Woman card and is now a walking, talking ticking time bomb.” And like Batman with a stick of lit dynamite in his hands, Agriculture Secretary Tom Vilsack, NAACP’s Ben Jealous, and President Obama tossed the highly respected Shirley Sherrod in the ocean. They abandoned her and according to Sherrod were “not interested in hearing the truth.” No one, and I mean no one wants to deal with racism, but definitely not from some lunatic sister on the Hill. Ask Anita Hill and Cynthia McKinney for their footnotes on this matter. Even today, Sherrod was on “The View” talking about a phone conversation she had with Vilsack yesterday where he said that she has every right to blast him and that its okay if she does so. Yeah, now that it’s clear that Sherrod was set-up “officials” want her to lose her cool and be all Omarosa in this piece because that is what they expect.

An apology does not dismiss the fact that from the White House on down, people, many of them deemed very intelligent, are buying into the paranoia that is being peddled by Republicans, right wing tea party enthusiasts, media pundits and bloggers. So now that we have YouTube no one needs to investigate accusations of racism anymore? Well it seems not if the accused are Black (Van Jones anyone?). Post-racial America is a very terrified America that has everyone jumping up at boo. Seriously, if I believed all the paranoia-based emails I received, especially as a woman, I would never use deodorant, never walk alone after 6pm, never eat at any Muslim owned restaurants, and oh yeah, my favorite, never use tampons (because they’re made out of asbestos). I would be a smelly, scared woman who could never don a swimsuit on the beach while menstruating. If I can take the time to investigate the mythic bullsnuff that ends up in my inbox, then the current administration, the NAACP and CNN need to do the same!

Earlier this week I was reading the latest issue of Elle magazine with Rihanna on the cover and was totally struck by her style, stance and sound. She’s got flavor for days, problem is, when it comes to her vocal ability she kinda comes up short. I sat back and imagined how awesome it would be if Riri could really sing. Then on Thursday I popped in a CD by a singer named Kimberly Nichole and I no longer had to imagine. The CD, The Yellow Brick Journey, is what “Good Girl Gone Bad” and “Rated R” could’ve been if Rihanna could blow (and actually if she wrote her own songs). The CD opens with “Wishes In The Dark” a throbbing punkadelic affair that rocks hard and teases tough. It’s Disturbia with bones, soul and flesh. “Johnny Come Lately” and “Little Girl New” prove this Spelman alum not only got deep into her studies while in the ATL. You can hear Andre 3000, Janelle Monae and Joi all up in these stunners. They bump, bite and bake with the best of boogie. Horns that holla and hiss, revival tent hand clapping and Grambling Marching Band stomping and swaying. Thrilling like the pull of jumping porgies on the hook of a tight fishing line!

Toward the end though I felt like Kimberly may have run out of steam with “For The Looking Ones” and “Carnival.” “For The Looking Ones” features an auto-tune riff from the theme song of Miami Vice and “Carnival” was cotton candy fluff. It felt more old and passé than retro. It’s pop-rock candy sensibility didn’t connect with the farm fresh funktastic feel of the previous songs. But girlfriend brings it back home with “Disconnected.” If Gwen Stefani were ever asked to re-interpret Mary J.’s “My Life” then it would sound like “Disconnected.” Reeling with the somberness of Corey Glover’s “April Rain” and the melancholy of Prince’s “Purple Rain,” the title track “The Yellow Brick Journey” really captures the persona and sound that is Kimberly Nicole. It’s grits and grace. Studs and spirit.

Kimberly Nichole was the cute fly ‘froed chick that waited tables in Harlem at Il Caffe Latte as recently as last year, but today she is co-headlining the Weeksville Music Series with Shabazz Palaces at 6pm and on August 19 she’ll be at NJPAC’s Theater Square. If you are in the NYC area please stop by. Both shows are free and bound to be fun! Bring your tambourine!

You know the state of hip hop is really in trouble when a rapper who has yet to drop her own record AND who lip-synchs her live performances wins a BET Award for Best Female Hip-Hop Artist. I was out of the country on vacation, but got back just in time to see Chris Brown boo-hoo his way to redemption and see Nicki Minaj proclaim she’s “fighting for women.” Ugh! Fighting? For me? Homegirl flashed her ta-tas and did a Milli Vanilli the whole night and now she’s an advocate for females? Of course this could be more telling about the state of affairs at BET than about hip-hop. As such, there’s a few things I could be pissed off about when discussing the BET Awards or rap for that matter, but my mama taught me to pick my battles so for now I choose Nicki Minaj and all her Barbie Doll dysfunction. Even though this chick couldn’t even spit 8 bars, I feel I have a way better shot at salvaging this free-spirited Trinidadian before I could get a pulse outta hip-hop.

I may not like Nicki Minaj, but I certainly get her and why she’s appealing. The colorful wigs, the weirdo hookeresque get-ups, the affectations—verbal and otherwise. I get it cause I’ve seen it all before. Y’all do remember Lil Kim? And unlike Nicki’s other major source for material, Lady Gaga, who thrills in part because she reaches way back to Madonna, Grace Jones, and Elton John to draw inspiration, Nicki simply flicks her wrist to her immediate right and left and picks at current sensations like Missy Elliott and The Pussy Cat Dolls. Nicki Minaj is certainly a lot of things, mostly a manufactured mess, but she’s also relatively young, seemingly green and under the influence of Puff Daddy and Lil Wayne so I gotta cut her some slack. She’s probably confused as all heck.

I recently stumbled across this wonderful art catalogue book– Bad Girls, and it hit me how much Nicki (like so many girls today) just wants to stand out, be an individual and therefore be a lil outrageous. She wants to be a bad girl so badly, but has no clue what it takes. In the book, Linda Goode Bryant states: “Bad girls make art that comes out of experience and not style, out of conviction, not trend. They reference themselves, not others.” It’s disappointing that Nicki is focusing more on mimicking a doll– a white, plastic, blue-eyed female at that– than on pulling from her incredibly dramatic, albeit young life where her dad was a crack addict that set her stuffed animals on fire. The bad girls that I adore DO draw from experience—Nina Simone, Lauryn Hill, Pink and Mary J. Blige! And they most definitely reference themselves– Grace Jones, M.I.A., Jill Scott, and Amy Winehouse.

Clearly Nicki has a long way to go before she’s a bonafide bad girl, but she has potential. I can see that much. First and foremost though, next time home girl spits, audibles best be heard and best be real. Only Janet Jackson can get away with lipsynching in 2010 and she proved she’s one of the baddest b’s after her wardrobe malfunction… so there!

What’s up with all these ladies morphing (at least on their album covers) into super sci-fi singers? Just as many women, particularly Black women, we’re beginning to let go of living up to this mythic Superwoman hero of a Mother, Wife, Working Girl, Sista-Friend, it seems like Erykah Badu, Janet Jackson, Janelle Monae, and Christina Aguilera have all shed their hot pants to become super beings ready to take over the music industry and yeah, I guess the world too. However, the major and significant difference is that these women are not reemerging as wonder women with supernatural powers, they are instead beautifully wired-up, digital divas who have exchanged their hearts for hard-drives. With some success they have all, to varying degrees, dipped their toes into the hot-tub of bootyliciousness (major kudos to Erykah for the smash “Window Seat” video, which propelled her record sales into a stratosphere she hasn’t approached since her Baduism debut), but now, I would argue in an attempt to revise the image of the female singer and women in general, these ladies are seeing strength in being androids—in being non-human. And I’m not talking about being Seven of Nine either who was the most sensually charged cyborg I’ve ever seen. I’m talking about revising the politics of the female body and yo, there is a lot to be said for this new robotic physique. The conversation moves from tits and as$ to titanium and aluminum. Instead of focusing on her body we, at least visually, are forced to reckon with something else. Ah maybe her lyrics and skills? Yes, this desexualization is empowering in this context and I for one love it!

I’m so grateful for Janelle Monae who really goes deep with this phenomenon and through Cindi Mayweather– her android being, is able to be so many things simultaneously. One minute she is James Brown, the next Harriet Tubman and then Cleopatra. She is strong, hip, funky and uber intelligent and doesn’t seem to be bound by human emotions like fear, jealousy or vanity. Just yesterday I was talking to my godmother about this trend and she thought it was funny and said this: “Every time I reprimand these boys out here about wearing their jeans low or tell them to stop cursing around me or to stop loitering in front of the building, they call me a ‘Robo-bitch.’” She continued, “Honestly I could do without the bitch part but it doesn’t phase me. I know they call me robo as in RoboCop because my assertiveness is alien to these fools. I may be alien, but I tell you this: They listen to me.” Go godmommy! Whoa, this just got me thinking. Does this mean in order for us grrrls to be taken seriously– to be respected– that we have to act hard as a rock? Is there power in showing less emotion, less sweetness? Hmmph, I smell a lil bionic backlash in the midst. What say you?

Whoo-weee Memorial Day Weekend is here and for many of us that means the first real break since January. Now summer is upon us and I can feel New York City finally ease back into a rocksteady sexy sway. This weekend as I remember all those, including my uncles and father, who courageously fought for a country that so often denied them their manhood, their American-hood, I’m looking forward to celebrating life with all of my Gemini friends, chilling-out, and seeing Sex And The City 2. Speaking of SATC 2, I am reminded of a story that writer and author Thembisa Mshaka contributed to theHotness back in 2002 about the absence of brown girls on SATC. Looking back at how Michael Patrick King created a New York City where Black and Latina women were largely invisible, Thembisa and I are both wondering now how much has changed for Carrie and company? Tomorrow night we’re going to see the flick and I guess we’ll know for sure then, but it seems that the ladies have to go to Dubai in order to mingle with people of color (not withstanding Jennifer Hudson’s lame role last time around)! So in tribute to summer days, full moon nights and all around general Hotness I’ve gone into the vaults and dug up Thembisa’s essay. Enjoy and have a fantastic weekend!

Sex And The Homogenized City
by Thembisa Mshaka

I don’t watch network television. I’m all about cable: reality TV, useful news information, music videos and tons of HBO. I am big on The Sopranos, OZ, Arli$$ and the subject of this month’s story, “Sex And The City.”

Let me say this up front. I am not complaining, just thinking in a Perfect Brown Girl World, if you will. I enjoy this show and have watched it religiously since it began. It sparkles with wit, candor and the glitz of the Big Apple. The ladies are all too believable as tightly knit friends. What’s unbelievable is that among these urbanitas, there is not even one sista. This is Manhattan y’all! Don’t even tell me you don’t know any six-figure makin’, $500 shoe-buyin’, livin’ off-credit swipin’, advance-degree havin’ divas with great bodies, fabulous hair and a terrific bedside manner. The closest the show’s characters have gotten to a Brown Girl was once when Sonia Braga appeared for an episode and half as Samantha’s better half of her experimental lesbian fling and then there was Adina on the July 9th, 2000 episode. But before we could even get to know her, she and Samantha ended-up cat-fighting over Adina’s objection to Samantha doing the interracial nasty with her brother. Two questions: Why is it that as soon as one of us enters the picture, we’re the one with the race problem? Did it occur to the writers that we’d be more interested in a sista who is preoccupied with a sex life of her own?

But I digress. In real life, the same eligible (mostly white) men portrayed on Sex And The City have also been known to taste a lil’ urban flava, or at least be as curious as Samantha about it. Is it a truth that today’s audiences are still unable to handle from the living room? What about the sight of a voluptuous, naked dark body arching in ecstasy (or deciding not to) on her own terms? I can see TV executives gulping on that jagged little pill already. I know they feel much more comfortable writing us as…

Go here for Thembisa’s full story

For some reason Venus’s provocative tennis outfit at the French Open got me thinking about Sofia Maldonado’s mural on 42nd Street and the uproar it created over whether it was a bold expression of art and culture or a simple promotion of stereotypical images of Black and Latina women. Why and when does art’s imitation of life become so problematic? High art or a low down dirty shame? Clearly it’s not just girls in the hood dressing like this as Venus’ reveal of her very taut booty has proved.

I argued on Facebook that because Sofia’s mural was in Times Square people were probably more offended by the images just because of who could view them (i.e. tourists and people who do not live in the hood). If this mural were in Harlem would people have been petitioning? Would it have been a major story on Fox News? I doubt it. The thing is I have no problem with the mural. I think it’s wonderful that Sofia chose to depict women who rarely figure into major artwork showcased in a midtown plaza, at The Whitney or otherwise.

Ironically though, I do have a problem with Venus’s very slightly camouflaged brown hinny being out on the red clay. At first when I posted the pics on theHotness Facebook page I was cool with it, but that was before I saw the flesh colored Spanx and felt like I was being mooned. I don’t know why I am torn like this, but I am. Maybe it’s because I think the bootleg Moulin Rouge get-up is ugly and I prefer to watch the Williams sisters serve aces and not as$. I don’t think it’s risque of Venus, but think it is lacking taste and class. Ugh, I said it! I hate that I can’t applaud her entirely for her effort like I can Sofia and other visual artists like Kara Walker who does happen to get play in The Whitney and whose work is crazy provocative and yes, even considered stereotypical.

A few years ago her exhibit, “My Complement, My Enemy, My Oppressor, My Love,” opened with a huge mural of a little pickanniny slave girl giving a Huckleberry Finn-type a blow job. Lawd, folks woulda just died if that was on 42nd Street or maybe not? Although Kara gets the same flack for promoting stereotypical, and even pornographic images of Black folk, they seem to be immediately excused because Kara is creating high-art. As a matter of fact Kara gets lauded for her stereotypes, err depictions of slave life.

So maybe then that’s what Venus is trying to do through her use of black lace lin-ga-ree and flesh colored biking shorts. Maybe she is creating high art through low fashion? Or maybe, as I really suspect, Venus is just suffering from sister envy and was trying to get some of the hype Serena got when she wore this. What do you think?