“I disregard the proportions, the measures, the tempo of the ordinary world. I refuse to live in the ordinary world as ordinary women. To enter ordinary relationships. I want ecstasy.” ~Anais Nin

If life is like a box of chocolates, then why do we get so crazy over gifting and receiving chocolates on Valentine’s Day? Because like Christmas and Easter, Valentine’s Day is yet another marketing scheme developed by the confectionery industry to get our loot by selling the idea that love is connected to gift giving. Unlike Christmas and Easter, Valentine’s Day is not concerned with Jesus, however like both holidays there is a cute sales rep to ease you into spending your hard earned dollars in exchange for feelings of validation, happiness and inclusiveness. Along with Santa and the Easter bunny, we have Cupid in all in his Lil Lord Fauntleroy splendor shooting dopamine spiked arrows and deluding folk into buying hot pink satin thongs and bouquets of red roses to show their boo just how much they are adored.

Valentine’s Day is just another day to me. As far as I am concerned everyday should be Godiva eatin’, champagne sipping siestas of back rubs and poems read, adoration fests of tight embraces and long kisses, and reciprocation revivals of dishwashing, child rearing, and of course lovemaking. I guess what I’m trying to say is I don’t define myself or my joy based upon my relationship status. Single, married or booed-up we should all be bold enough to be in love with ourselves. A few years ago I wrote this now infamous and very popular essay about February 14th and LOVE. Please check it out here.

Like many grown bootied women I know, I’m not ashamed to admit that I’ve had a major crush on Sade since her 1984 debut. Needless to say, I could NOT wait for February 8th to arrive. On Tuesday night I happily skipped out of my office to Giant Step’s Listening Party at the Royalton and then made a b-line for Best Buy early on Wednesday morning to cop her new joint, Soldier of Love– her first album since 2000’s dub-groove smash Lovers Rock. And lemme tell you Helen Folasade Adu or “Shard” as her homies call her, did not disappoint. The mystique, music and the moments connected to Sade and her songs create magic. Black magic baby.

The Mystique: I think what really appeals to me about Sade is the mystery of Sade. She doesn’t put her business out there for the paparazzi and her fans to pick and prod at like some flea market bin of old clothes. But every now and then she breaks out from behind the shadows to reveal a lil more about the woman who is a mother, a lover and a gardening aficionado. Here are three interviews that I love:

UK Times Online: “Being a mother is the biggest and hardest job I’ve ever undertaken. I’m not complaining, but I’ve never had a nanny. For years after she was born I put Ila to bed every night. As soon as she arrived she became the centre of my life.”

theHotness:  “It’s easier being a woman because you’re not considered a threat the way black men are considered a threat. My brother would get stopped in his car and get called a black bastard. You have to know you’re better than that and rise above the person.”

NY Times: “(In the studio) it is almost like a church, because you’re going to that room, you know your purpose, you know what you’re going to do in there, and you don’t have to take anything in with you that you don’t want to take in there.”

The Music: Two of my faves from SOL~

In Another Time – Saunters and sways with the moodiness of an old Etta James record. The dillydally of the piano, ease of strings and the drag of horn collude with Sade’s somber vocals to form a bluesy yet empowering concoction that intoxicates with testimonies of life after heartbreak and better lovin’ days ahead: “Darling I want to let you know your tears will not leave a trace/ In another time/ In another place.”

The Moon and The Sky: Yearning, nostalgic and romantic. This is the joint you put on when it’s raining outside and you’re laying in bed reminiscing about past love. Light some incense, pour the wine and pull the sheets up tight cause this song is a lonely lullaby.

The Moment: Beautiful. Classic.

I’m so excited about the music that’s dropping in 2010! I really feel like, more so now than ever, the ladies are going to smash this year wide open, which after Sunday night’s Grammy Awards, I couldn’t be more pleased.

The Grammy’s, even though promoted as a Ladies Night, really played strongly for the fellas. Maxwell and Eminem ripped that sucka silly on just some old school sangin’ and rhyming. Although he was hoarse and obviously nervous, Maxwell was sincerely steeped in some soulful ish and Em just spat for Detroit, for hiphop, for breath. Now I will give it to Pink for having the fortitude to sing beautifully while twirling in mid-air and for being punk enough to spin water droplets on glammed up Grammified folk below. She rocked it, but I’ve seen her do that routine already (AMA’s?) so now it’s just becoming routine. Lady Gaga and Beyonce, as much as I love them, they totally under whelmed me. Like major yawn! Ironically in terms of sound and performance, Michael Jackson’s pleading vocals on his “Earth Song” were so badass that I would’ve been cool if I never heard Usher or Celine sing a lick of it. And I do agree with Thembisa and Solange. Taylor Swift robbed Bey and Gaga for Best Album, but that’s what happens when a mouthy Black rapper snubs a young, sweet, blond country singer. She becomes RIAA’s darling. The whole affair reminded me of Desifeminista’s tweet early on during the broadcast: “Getting older means watching everything you know and love be destroyed in front of your eyes. #grammys”

But all is not lost in Gaga and Elton John’s dust, dirt and ash. Musically speaking, 2010 really promises to be The Year of The Woman. With releases from Sade, Erykah Badu, Corinne Bailey Rae, Jean Grae, Janelle Monae, Santigold, Goapele, Nneka, Tamar-kali, Sia and Tweet, I’m thinking I’ll see less leotards and a little more musicality and depth this year.

My friend Greg– a hard hittin music critic– was privileged to hear the new Janelle Monae record and exclaimed, “It’s stellar. 21st century black pop music with tight lyrics and vocals, multiple chord changes and modern rhythms. Thought I’d never hear it again.”

Folks that went to Erykah Badu’s listening party in December at Chung King Studios are saying the Control Freaq’s got her Baduizm back and is kicking vocals ala “On & On” on her upcoming New Amerykah, Part II (Return of the Ankh), due out Feb. 23, 2010. Yippeee!
UPDATE!!! Erykah’s new single Window Seat

Last week, Corinne Bailey Rae, after dealing with the sudden death of her husband, dropped The Sea, the follow-up to her debut smash. I’ve just heard the single “I’d Do It All Again,” which is a departure from the blissed-out, catchy-soul of “Put Your Records On.” But it’s a great song filled with the murky melancholy of loss love and grief and the video is just as wonderful and somber.

And I’m already loving newcomer Nneka’s Concrete Jungle, especially the cuts “Uncomfortable Truth” and “Heartbeat.” Even though folks are quick to compare her to Lauryn Hill, I’m not. Whereas L-Boogie dipped into her Newark/ S. Orange pot for ghetto flavor, Nneka’s spooning juices from Africa and Europe. Check her performance on David Letterman last night and see for yourself.

Back in ‘03 I couldn’t get enough of Oakland native, Goapele, and her independently released Closer. I realize artists have their whole lives to create their first record and so the next record, usually rushed and composed under all kinds of pressure and expectation usually falls short. I’m thinking that’s what happened with 2005’s Change It All. But I love Goapele’s energy and think her voice is pretty damn special and so I’m crazy pulling for her as she releases her third record (officially fourth after reworking Closer), Milk & Honey. Here she talks about the process and inspirations behind the album.

Word has it that even Tweet is working on a comeback. And even though I’m not feeling this new song, I’m still holding out hope because her debut, although totally slept on, was a stunner. Beyond her sexed-up pop hit– “Oops (Oh My)”, Southern Hummingbird was so much more. She had such incredibly well written songs about love and relationships. That joint still gets spins in my house. Love, love, love it!

2010 is all about the ladies! Still not convinced? Well Lilith Fair is back and the line-up is mighty. So ready or not, here we come!

The same day I sent out a blast about my recent post Yelé Haiti, I received a note from a reader who asked if I had seen this?  I had not seen the tax papers or even heard the accusations about Wyclef Jean’s non-profit NGO. But as soon as I read it I quickly responded:

Oh no I didn’t …so disappointing. Well I hope he does right now in the face of such horrific disaster. His organization cannot be worse than The Red Cross who has squandered billions post-9/11, Katrina and Tsunami donations. It’s sad to say but at this point, it’s a matter of who and what is the least corrupt.

Whether it was true or not, I thought the timing of Smoking Gun was shady and unfortunate. It smelled like sabotage to me. People are dying under slabs of concrete. Bodies are rotting in the street– bodies that Clef and his wife, Claudinette, helped move and bury. Smoking Gun could not have dug this up last year or in ‘06 when he brought Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt to Haiti to show them and, (through the craziness of the paparazzi), the world the plight of Haitian peoples. Now that his organization is raising money, and in fact for the first few days, more money than The Red Cross, they want to scream fraud. If the Smoking Gun or any other entity wants to investigate financial statements, please show me the paperwork and record keeping of The Red Cross. They received millions, if not billions, after 9-11 and post-Katrina and so much of that money disappeared only later to be found in bonus checks of the then President and other execs of the organization. So spare me. I have faith in Clef more now than ever. You cannot lift and touch the bloated and lifeless bodies of children and babies and not want to do the right thing. He is Haitian. He comes from the same suffering and the same streets and the same spirit of resilience. These are his people. Ayiti! I believe Yelé Haiti will be in Port-Au-Prince, Petit-Goave, Jacmel, et. al long after CNN, The Red Cross, and Bill Clinton have moved on. Now with prayer and supplication I move forward.

The word yéle is actually a Creole word, and the right way to say it is lee-lay. And yéle means to scream. So when I say yéle, it means I’m screaming for freedom. Freedom of the mind.  –Wyclef Jean

I was feeling a lil lousy yesterday—tired of the stress of work, feeling overwhelmed and non-motivated, and then I read tweets by a man named Troy who lives in Port Au Prince. He talked of sleeping in his driveway, aftershocks (even one this morning at 4am), having very little food and water and the horrific smell of rotting decomposing bodies on the streets. I realized I have no idea what suffering really is. I realized I needed to immediately snap outta my b.s. funk and get focused. I, no, WE have to be strong, on point and vigilant for those who can’t right now. We can argue and debate all day about the merits of tithing, of not fornicating, of praying at least 6 times a day, but this here my friends, this is our moral responsibility. We have to remain steadfast and spiritually, politically and financially locked-in with those less fortunate. Haiti needs us! So let’s buck-up.

Below are a sampling of tweets and a Facebook post about the earthquake in Haiti and about the people of Haiti that really resonated with me. Check it:

@thehotnessgrrrl: Help Haiti Earthquake Relief Donate $5 by texting YELE to 501501 right now! Let’s make a difference! The organiz behind 501501 text is YeleHaiti- founded by Wyclef Jean. Its LEGIT! Clef has wrkd tirelessly for yrs to help Haiti.

@Ashiya_ANS: CNN.com: Quake had power of several nuclear bombs

@thehotnessgrrrl: Haiti is the size of Maryland, but with over 9 million residents.

@troylivesay: Church groups are singing throughout the city all through the night in prayer. It is a beautiful sound in the middle of a horrible tragedy. (1/13/10 – Troy runs an orphanage in Port Au Prince)

Tahana (Facebook): Thanks to Haiti the U.S. expanded via the Louisiana Purchase. L’Ouverture Toussaint of Haiti is seldom appreciated, but in the age of revolution in America he rose to leadership & intensified & defined the anti-slavery movement, causing Napoleon to sell Louisiana for a song rendering certain the final prohibition of the slave-trade by the US in 1807. (Du Bois, p. 70). We owe Haiti– SO LET’S DONATE!

@dreamhampton – Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing’s going to get better. It’s not. ~The Lorax #seuss

@DiggsWayne – When #ghettoremedies is trending above #Haiti we have a real problem. A real big problem.

@_MAXWELL_ Things have their shape in time, not space alone. Some marble blocks have statues within them, embedded in their future –keithccourtier (Grammy nominated singer whose mom is Haitian)

@RAMhaiti people sent & are waiting in the stadium for medical help and no one is coming. they’re starting to give out water today (1/14/10) (This person owns a hotel in PauP)

@faraichideya – Read my new blog post: Haiti IS Cursed–By Our Ignorance.

@ralphmarston Live every day in awe of the fact that you’re alive.

@ALBDamn I CANT STAND that all the reporting of Haiti being “the poorest nat’n n the westrn hmsphere” w/o any context of Y!!! #ColonialExploitation (1/12/10)

Read novelist Edwidge Danticat’s thoughts on the Earthquake in Haiti. She was born and raised there until the age of 12. Here she talks about the devastation—personal and political.

Not sure how you can help?

Check out Kevin Powell & April Silver’s exhaustive and informative Help Haiti-- a web resource listing legitimate, ground-level organizations like Haitian Women for Haitian Refugees, Lakou New York, and MUDHA (Movement of Dominican Haitian Women) that have longstanding reputations for their support of Haiti:

Click HERE for complete list!

I love surprises and couldn’t be more thrilled when my homey Greg told me he got us on the list to see Janelle Monae perform at a sci-fi event about time travel at The Greene Space in Soho. I was giddier than a pubescent girl on opening night for Twilight. I’m a sci-fi head that gets totally turned out by all manner of time travel whether it be the wormhole adventures of Farscape or the mysteries of “Lost” …AND I’m a huge fan of Janelle Monae! I heard she killed AfroPunk ‘09 and Central Park’s Summerstage, but I missed both shows and was dying to see her perform live.

Her performance at the Greene Space was a blast off into the outer realms of some far off galaxy ruled by Grace Jones, Fishbone and Andre 3000. She jumped, wailed, danced and even threw her mic stand off the stage grazing the ankles and toes of the folks in the first row. She was channeling James Brown all the way baby. Shapeshifting into an android named Cindi Mayweather– robotic moves and glassy eyed stares back into a soul sangin girl known as J around Kansas way. I was so amped. And then I found out Janelle time travels too? I was in heaven.

Shorty rock (she’s like 5′1″) has been to Metropolis circa 2719 where she befriended Cindi also known as Alpha Platinum 9000. Under the evil dominion of The Wolfmasters, androids are prohibited to know and feel love. Breaking the rule of Metropolis, Cindi falls in love with a human. An edict is issued for her capture and disassembly. Running frantically through the streets of Metropolis, Cindi follows a trail of “violet stars” to escape the “‘droid control” as they hunt her down with chainsaws & electro-daggers. Check “The March of The Wolfmasters” and the rest of Janelle’s Metropolis Suite if you don’t believe me… or her!

This is what she had to say about Kansas and Metropolis that night:

In “Many Moons” Janelle waxes revolutionary about freedom and oppression. She has been around the moon and back and yet she still seeks liberation knowing that the heaviest chains that bind are the ones we put on ourselves. She sings:

Civil rights, civil war/ Hood rat, crack whore/ Carefree, nightclub/ Closet drunk, bathtub/ Out-outcast, weirdo/ Stepchild, freak show/ Black girl, bad hair/Broad nose, cold stare/ Overweight, self esteem/ Mis-misfit, broken dream/ Fish tank, small bowl/ Closed minded, dark hold/ Cy-cy-cybergirl, droid-droid control/ Get away now they trying to steal your soul.

Check out her video of Many Moons:

By the way, Janelle is a major fan of “Lost” too. John Locke is her favorite character. Janelle, Greg, Chuck Lightening (her producer @Wondaland) and I debated about who he really is and what Lost symbolizes. Do you watch Lost? What do you think? Meanwhile some pics from Greene Space.

Tamar-kali describes her music as “Hardcore Geechee Goddess Warrior Soul.” I simply think it’s bad-ass. Featured in Afro-Punk, James Spooner’s marvelous documentary about Black folk who punk-rock and up jumped the boogie to another level via Fishbone, Betty Davis and Bad Brains, Tamar-kali quickly became a face of a movement she’d fronted locally in NYC for over 15 years in bands like Song of Seven and Funkface.

What I love so much about T is that no matter how unruly her performance may be or how unhinged her lyrics, this Brooklyn banshee never lets you forget she is a woman. That she is the pink side of Afro-Punk and is committed to all that it means to be a GRRRL. She embraces her femininity, pierces it with non-conformist buckshot, dips it in ancestral blood, kisses it with Oshun’s honey and then hurls it into the atmosphere, gyrating as she watches it sprinkle down like nuclear fallout on her audience members. Mesmerized. Seduced.

Don’t believe me? Check out the lyrics to “Boot” off of her EP 5Piece: “Her hair is short/ Her legs are brown/ Her lips are full/Her head hangs down/Her eyes ain’t blue/ Her ass is round/ She is sweet tasting fruit whose juice is bitter tears/ She is love’s worn out boot, tattered and torn you wear.” Or watch this snippet of “Ruint”and see how she begins to mangle the hell outta this ballad leaving nothing but bloodied bits of aorta on the microphone stand:

Tomorrow Tamar-kali is taking her all-female Psychochamber string ensemble uptown to Harlem to headline “Cabaret Chocolat.” Tamar says she developed this show because “artists of color have largely been missing from the revival of cabaret performance” at venues like Spiegeltent and The Box. With all the talk around Black women and body image ala Precious, Serena Williams, and Michelle Obama this show is more than right on time as an expression of the beauty and sensuality of Black women in dance and song. T seconds that emotion stating: “Regarding body image the Psychochamber Ensemble would be the platform. As an all female ensemble composed primarily of women of color it provides a representation of a range of different body types. Personally I have never felt subjectively limited. However, I feel like Michelle Obama has broken the 2-sided mammy/whore model to bits.”

In August, when I saw TK perform last she ripped the roof off of Joe’s Pub. She also just happened to be wearing this mad sexy hot pink vintage dress and I remember thinking ain’t no one in punk (and very few outside the genre), are dropping Sexy as hot, as gully and as empowering as this geechee!

Check out her show tomorrow night and see for yourself!

Event info:
Tamar-kali’s CABARET CHOCOLAT: An Autumn Night’s Soiree

Saturday, November 21, 2009 — $15

– Harlem Stage Gatehouse: 150 Convent Avenue at West 135th Street
6 pm – pre-performance dialogue with Tamar-kali, Kandia Crazy Horse & Daphne Brooks
7:30 pm  – Cocktail Mixer

8:30 pm – Performance

*** I AM GIVING AWAY A PAIR OF TICKETS TO ONE LUCKY WINNER!!! ***
Just leave a comment below naming your theme song if you could headline your own bawdy, sexy Cabaret. Mine would be “Darling Nikki” of course! I’ll randomly pick a winner tomorrow morning and announce it on the site and via email. Good luck!

Photos by Fanon Che Wilkins

I went to see Precious on opening weekend. Word was, Precious takes its cues from this book that makes Oz and The Wire look like spin-offs of The Magic Garden. I’ve never read Push, the book by poet Sapphire that the film is based but I was already nervous, anxious, horrified and so excited about the premise and promise of this flick. You see I believe a lil’ shock therapy is necessary to keep us emotionally in tune with all of our future and past selves. Balanced.

So I sat there for almost two hours– laughing, crying, wincing and finally exhaling. This movie, like its protagonist, and much like the actress who brings her to life—Gabourey “Gabby” Sidibe, is fat, Black and all that! I loved Precious! I loved where it took me (deep and low) and how it exposed and crushed me feel while I just sat, hand in popcorn. At times I found myself being quite nostalgic. I’m a native New Yorker who was around the same age in 1987, the year this movie takes place, as Claireece Precious Jones– the lead character. I was living in the Bronx, but would hangout in Harlem some weekends– at The Mart, on 125th bartering with the African street vendors and yeah, like Precious, I even ate fried chicken at M&G’s.

The scenes with Precious at home left me shook. Make no ham bones about it, the physical and sexual abuse that Precious endures is cruel, cold and beyond sadistic. When I was 10 I knew a Precious Jones except her name was Danielle and she lived near White Plains Rd. Truth is there’s some Precious flowing in the veins of my own life history. I was beat-up damn near every week in elementary school and during summer breaks, the girl next door, kept the beat-down fresh. I was called a big-lipped baboon; a tall goofy doofus; ugly. I was chased home by a boy wielding a big leather belt trying (and sometimes succeeding) to lash and whip me. But unlike Precious, when I got home, there was love and support from both my mother and father. There was a home cooked meal waiting for me on the stove. There was peace and calm in my home. So I could relate, but then I really couldn’t.

Although most of the reviews have been positive, there’s also been mad drama too. Juan Williams (WSJ) considers Push to be gangster lit—“poorly written (and) poorly edited.” If Push is gangster lit then so is The Bluest Eye. Armond White (NY Press) really goes off the deep-end in his review calling “Precious” an “orgy of prurience” that demeans Blacks just as much as Birth of Nation. And wait, there’s more. In a fit of looney-tunesque insanity Mr. White names some “excellent recent films with black themes” that have been ignored while Precious with its “ethnic stereotyping” gets all the hype. His idea of “excellent” is “Norbit” and “Little Man.” Instead of seriously engaging with Gabby’s portrayal of Precious he declares, “she’s so obese her face seems bloated into a permanent pout.” And later calls her “hippopotamus-like.” Yeah for Armond, a Black man, the more realistic depiction of the life of an obese Black woman is one wearing a fat suit and decidedly male.

Other writers, along with White, think the fantasy scenes are sentimental manure promoting “materialist fantasy” as motivation. Others see Precious’ desire to be white and have a light-skinned boyfriend as self-hatred. Folks, this movie is shot in the 80’s from a teen’s POV when Madonna, The Material Girl ruled the airwaves and MTV, and when the Huxtables with their Black artwork and brownstone bourgie bravada was boss. And every girl I knew including my sister and I, was deep in puppy love with Al B! Sure, Prince and Christopher Williams. The light skinned boys got all the love back then! But certainly this did not mean we hated our darker skinned selves. We were products of our environments where high yella negroes were glamorously featured in everything from Elle to Soul Train to the movie Flashdance. Precious doesn’t hate herself. Did you notice how she always rocked a beaded necklace that would match her shirt, which would match her eye shadow? Her bangs were tight everyday! She took pride in making herself up. I’m reminded of The Notorious B.I.G.’s rap, “Hearthrob neva/ black, ugly as ever,” Precious Jones knew she wasn’t pretty. But please recognize she definitely didn’t hate herself either. Precious like Biggie had heart.

This Call-to-Arms for context is also one argument that I don’t get. Why do I need a history of why Mary Jones, Precious’ mother, is on welfare and why she is constantly trying to bamboozle the system? Why must Lee Daniels, the film’s Director include a historical back story on slavery and racism to explain why she allows her man to rape her daughter? Clearly there is a lack of love. And more importantly, viewers like me watching the movie are smarter than a first grader. We come to the table with experience and information. It’s deep to me that Black visual artists like Basquiat and Kara Walker can leave things open for interpretation– trusting the power of imagination and inference, but Lee Daniels another type of visual artist has to include a key for understanding discrimination and capitalism. Our imagination, education and creativity as Black viewers and as Black producers of content are constantly underestimated and undersiege from within the community especially when we are asked to breakdown the historical relevance and meaning of every gesture and every shot of pigs feet.

There is a popular criticism though that I do believe is fair and that is with the movie’s casting. Why are all the supportive, kind-hearted, loving characters– Mariah Carey, Lenny Kravitz, Paula Patton– light skinned or white when Precious, her demon of a mother and her nasty disgusting cold-hearted father are all dark-skinned? It does create this subconscious battle of the Wannabees and Jiggaboos, Evilene vs. Lena Horne, good vs. evil. This could have been better handled, but it does not make me hate the entire movie.

At the end of the day I think Precious is shocking, tragic but with hopeful promise. It interrogates us and forces us to really look hard at even our most disgusting selves and engage. Eyes open or eyes closed it’s there and it will not cease to exist.

Please check out my thoughts on Precious from WBAI radio’s Wake Up Call.

After attending this panel and feeling like I got gypped out of a discussion about our own, as well as, society’s perceptions of Black female bodies I haven’t been able to shut-up. What with the unapolegetically full-figured, ebon beauty Gabourey Sidibe on the cover of NY Times Mag and Precious opening in theaters this weekend; with South African runner Caster Semenya on suicide watch after being photographed nude with her legs in stirrups by the International Association of Athletes Federation; with all the ridiculous chatter about First Lady Michelle Obama’s “toned arms” in papers from here to Pakistan, there’s enough about the pain and pleasure, grace and disgrace centered on, around, inside and up under the Black female body that I could talk for days, maybe weeks and not even mention Oprah. Now who woulda thunk that just a year ago?

I think Greg Tate said it best when he commented on the missed opportunity, saying:

A panel on the public perception/display/exploitation of various black womens bodies– Hottentot, Michelle (Obama), Serena (Williams), Caster, Precious– mos def would have leveled the trauma field and made for a richer, more self-revelatory and far less hair n skin conflicted forum. Skin and hair contretemps is a case of DNA vs beauty in the eyes of massa and miss ann–their rules, our pain, once again. But body image is where the personal and the political collude to wage psychological warfare on everybody in Holly-weird-ed out America, and I’d bet on the panel, equally.

Personally, whenever I think of Black women and body image, I think first and foremost of photographer Mfon Essien. She is my biggest inspiration. She’s my personal Black Body Superhero. Just last month, I discovered this more than beautiful essay on Mfon written by Eisa Ulen. It opens:

She looked it in the eye, showed its face on film. Breast cancer took photographer Mfon Essien’s life, but not her beauty or her soul. Mfon Essien processed Black magic. She aimed and clicked and captured images, the sound of her camera sending out a drumbeat of celebration. Like an ancient priestess, an obeah woman, a queen mother, she combined elements– paper and mysterious liquids—in the dark. She developed power. When she shot, she generated life. And when life tried to assault her, she shot back and made herself eternal.

Ashé!

I love Mfon most because she embraced her flaws and made them gifts, superpowers if you will at a point in her life when I think I would have been ashamed of my body. She reminds me, without a gold lasso I may add, that I am much more than the sum of my parts. That we are skin, flesh and bones, but it’s our spirit and love of self that makes our bodies beautiful, sexy, strong and unrepentant. You see in 1998 at the tender of age of 28, Mfon was diagnosed with terminal breast cancer. She underwent a major mastectomy to remover the cancer. Mfon knew that learning to live without her left breast was going to be an experience she needed to accept. And like many artists that find themselves at the crossroads of life, Mfon used her art to make that important first step. I interviewed her in 2000 and she shared: “I (photographed myself) specifically to heal immediately and to get over the mourning. I was like ‘you don’t have a breast and you’re not having plastic surgery anytime soon. So get it together and feel sexy today. Take these pictures now!’” (More on my talk with Mfon)

I have a photo of Mfon in my living room, another photocopy in my bedroom and she’s all over my Twitter page. In Eisa’s tribute she also states:

She bravely faced her own camera. She chose to reclaim her body through The Amazon’s New Clothes, a series of nude self-portraits, arresting images of a Black woman feeling her own power. The photographs exalt womanhood, representing Mfon in all her triumph, in all her truth. Through them, she reaffirms her innate grace, refusing to allow a scar to define her. Poised and relaxed, Mfon glories in her body, fiercely asserting her own life force. (Read Eisa’s Tribute)

Mfon’s image and her words are affirming and victorious just as I know on a certain level Gabby’s image will be for obese Black girls this side of the Pacific. It’s high time we all bravely face our own cameras, create our own truth and be empowered, sexy, healthy and at ease.

Last Saturday’s dreary grayness did not stop me and about 100 women from attending NY Open Center’s panel, “From Hottentot Venus To The White House: Black Women On Beauty & Bodies.”  The panelists were Veronica Webb (Super+Role Model), Tricia Rose (Chair, Africana Studies @Brown U.), Susan Akkad (SVP Corporate Marketing/Diversity for Estee Lauder) with Michaela angela Davis (Cultural Critic) moderating.

I settled in with style maven Sharon Pendana sitting on my left and Ngozi Odita, founder of Society HAE, on my right. I had seen the flyer for this event weeks before and noticed a glaring theme with the featured panelists, but had hoped the lineup would “diversify” some by the day of event. As I looked up on stage I realized it was as the flyer had suggested. I immediately took out my Blackberry and tweeted: “It looks like u had to pass the brown paper bag test in order to be on this panel. (Panelists) r all very light skinned & ‘good-haired.’” From my discussions with other attendees, I clearly wasn’t the only one disappointed with the very high-yella panel. Afterwards I spoke to Michaela and here’s what she had to say:

Tricia, a former professor of mine, opened up the discussion stating, “I’m very critical of the industrialization of the world of beauty.” Not one to mix words or hold her tongue, Tricia continued by sharing, “I have to selectively reengage with my history or I’ll be like one of those angry 80’s rappers.” She was humorous, insightful and delivered the academic goods– including a detailed history of the life of Saartjie Baartman p.k.a. Hottentot Venus.

After hearing how Saartjie was taken from her home in Africa to England where she was publicly exhibited naked in a cage and then later sold to a French animal trainer who exploited her body and abused her further in Paris, it was ironic and displeasing to then hear Susan Akkad describe her introduction to cosmetics. “I never bought Fashion Fair. My mother told me to go to the French counter for make-up because their men love us.” She is now a SVP at Esteé Lauder. I’m sure Hottentot Venus would be proud.

Veronica, who shared that she was the first Black model to secure a major cosmetics contract, talked about her love of fashion, fashion mags and style. “I like putting together things I love, to attract what I want.” This was a cute sentiment that got a few pleasing ah-ha’s from the audience although it was soon overshadowed by the advice she said she gave her two young daughters who said they’d like to be in the White House like Sasha and Malia: “Maybe you’ll grow up to be President,” which was great. The gaffe was when she followed up with “or maybe if mommy gets married again she’ll marry a President.” Huh?

Tricia, who really was the centrifugal force of the panel talked a bit about women in hip-hop, the subject of her latest book. Even though hiphop has become increasingly less relevant in my life, I was amped by some of the questions Prof. Rose posed: How do we make ourselves beautiful within hip hop– an industry complicit in creating a demand for things and ideals that are damaging to Black women? Another question: “How do we know about Hottentot Venus and not live like that is all we know and can be? To this I would’ve answered Michelle Obama. Crazy thing though, Michelle Obama was never mentioned in the three hour discussion on images of Black women in major media. Suddenly Susan’s joie de vivre for French make-up counters seemed inconsequential. Not talking about the mass mediated image of the 1st Lady, a Black woman with her bare arms standing in front of a portrait of Thomas Jefferson, in a context about Black bodies and resistance was, as we hashtag on Twitter, a #FAIL.

Instead the Q&A centered on the hot topic of the hour– Good Hair. One audience member believed that “Chris Rock served up Black women as a deviant scientific experiment.” Yeah it was like that! Women had strong opinions about the subject and ladies in the house were excited to talk about the movie. Susan responded with what I thought was a damn near profound realization when she said: “Hair is to Black women what weight is to White women.” Then Michaela testified, “You’re only as sick as your secrets,” and encouraged conversation about our painful issues. Many women shouted in agreement. Not only had we gathered in a church, but at that moment we were having church. I think it was a good conversation that unfortunately lasted too long. Considering all of the panelists, except for maybe Susan, had what Black folks deem good hair and therefore could not fully understand or articulate the pain, shame, and anxiety many women internalize and young girls feel who have “kinky” hair, and considering that half the panel had not even seen the flick, we should have moved on to other subjects (i.e. Michelle Obama). When Tricia half jokingly suggested we petition Oprah to charter a plane from Bed-Stuy to Mumbai so all the sisters buying weaves can do so directly straight off the heads of impoverished Desi women who ritually sacrifice it for nada except a blessing, I think it was a good laugh that signaled the end of any further critical thinking of Chris Rock and his documedy. Personally, I’ve been to so many panels like this and even wrote my college thesis (“From Hottentot to Hip Hop”) on the subject more than 10 years ago so I was definitely looking forward to and in need of a more timely conversation to get my wig blown back.  One that went beyond Chris Rock, hip-hop and Azzedine Alaia to involve a discussion of  Michelle Obama, Caster Semanya and even Gabourey Sidibe, the star of the much talked about film, Precious. The space that these three women, these three Black bodies take up and hold in pop culture is groundbreaking and how they resist and revise racism, sexism, and patriarchy is crazy interesting.  I definitely was disappointed, but so grateful for the community of sisters that I connected with that day.  I left meditating on two quotes that resonated with me and my desire to engage women in work that is socially transformative and empowering. The first: “Many of us look for love, but will settle for attention,” said by Michaela. And Tricia shut it down when she stated, “It’s not just about accepting love, but we have to be willing to give each other transformational love. And then we have to be prepared to be ignored.”

For those that attended this panel, I’m curious to hear your thoughts. Hollaback and post a comment. Everyone else please tell me what you think about the post and how we can have more transformative dialogues about our beauty, our booty and ourselves.

Ngozi & Sharon

Marcia C., Crystal W., Me & Aissata D.

Tgist, me & Sharada M.