IGNITE ~ We're Back!
HOT GIRLZ ~ Amina Lawal
ISM ~ Having It All (Veronica Chambers, author)
ESOTERIC ~ Ovarian Cancer
CHICA TO CHICA ~ Black Love

Nicole Moore, Editor

Amina Lawal

"Why is it they hate like this? Where is the man who made my baby? I never believed it could go on and on like this. I was sure they would see that I do not deserve to be murdered. But they turn their eyes away every time. They want to see a woman die." - Amina Lawal

Amina Lawal. Does the name sound familiar? Probably not. She's not gracing the cover of any popular women's mag (they're too busy discussing why men cheat and why the single ones won't marry). But you may be familiar with Amina's story, which begins in March 2002 when she was first found guilty of adultery following the birth of her daughter, Wasila, two years after she divorced her husband. Judges rejected Amina's first appeal in August 2002 and she was sentenced to a most barbaric and horrific punishment-- Amina would be buried up to her neck in sand and executed by stoning.

However, YESTERDAY, in Nigeria, the 32-year-old single mother had her sentence overturned by an Islamic appeals court in a case that has sparked international outrage. A five-judge panel rejected the sentence against Amina, saying she was not caught in the act of adultery and she was not given "ample opportunity to defend herself." Amina, who was wrapped in a light orange veil, sat on a stone bench, eyes downcast, cradling her nearly 2-year-old daughter as the ruling was announced at the Katsina State Shariah Court of Appeals under heavy security. The judges read their verdict, which is final, inside a tiny blue-walled courtroom equipped with ceiling fans to ease the sweltering heat. If the sentence had been carried out, she would have been the first woman stoned to death since 12 northern states first began adopting strict Islamic law, or Shariah, in 1999.

Amina has identified her alleged sexual partner, Yahaya Mohammed, and said he promised to marry her. Mohammed, who would also have faced a stoning sentence, has denied any impropriety and had been acquitted immediately for lack of evidence.

Amina is the second Nigerian woman to be condemned to death for having sex out of wedlock under Islamic law. The first woman, Safiya Hussaini, had her sentence overturned in March on her first appeal in the city of Sokoto.

Although Amina and Safiya were both acquitted, two others-- a pair of lovers-- are still awaiting rulings against their sentences to be stoned to death. As many of us already know, distraction is the greatest power play, especially in the game of politics. So as we celebrate this victory, let us remain vigilant and continue in the fight to save the lives of these lovers.

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Having It All: Black Women & the Question of Success (Veronica Chambers, author)

How does a Black woman spell success? Well according to writer Veronica Chambers, I can spell it however I please. In her new book, "Having It All: Black Women and the Question of Success," Chambers examines the variety of balance beam maneuvers acted out by modern day Black women. Looking at the growing population of stay-at-home mothers to the great swans of Eartha Kitt and Josephine Premice, it seems that many Black women still lose sleep wondering how to give our best at work, at home and to our extended families. The profiles of these women are poignant and brutally revealing and the questions raised are as relevant as ever: "Am I a Black woman or a woman who is Black; Did I sacrifice a personal life for career and educational success, forever to languish in the too-independent-for-my-own-good single woman category; Am I alienating men or worse, becoming undesirable to Black men; Do I care what race my mate is/will be; And how do I negotiate the (economic) class I was born in versus the class I've matured in?"

Veronica begins by looking at Aunt Jemima-- who, by the way, she considers to be the first Black woman celebrity. Throughout, she consistently interrelates psychological studies and other analyses of the subject to present a well-rounded perspective of the dilemma. The former New York Times editor writes in the introduction: "What I set out to do is write something between the great scholarly canon about Black women's lives and the fluffy sister-girl-friend-honey-Chile-please advice books." This tandem allows the reader enough room to judge for herself.

As if peeking into Veronica's diary during this journey into self-awareness, I read with anticipation, curiosity and with some familiarity. "Today's young Black women don't feel a need to choose allegiance between race or gender," declares the Panamanian intellectual. Suddenly I'm not a voyeur, but a co-author of this hope journal. Veronica addresses so many of the issues that I face now as a 30-something and have grappled with since my 20's. Nodding with each page I turn, I recognized pieces of myself in most of the profiles. "Having It All" is a very large mirror that, in the end, only flatters despite our flaws. She spends enough time with each of the women she profiles so that they gradually feel like friends. Thelma Golden, a museum curator, Susan Fales-Hill, the creator of Linc's, Cheli Figaro, a stay-at-home mom, and Amina Thomas, a former member of a militant black revolutionary party are just some of the women she interviews.

From the beginning, Ms. Chambers clearly states her intent is to look primarily at the lives of middle and upper class African-American women. She does not waste ink to apologize for her segmentation, but instead she celebrates the accomplishments of these women by giving us permission to spell success in big, bold capital letters and with no regrets.

Veronica Speaks to theHotness:

theHotness: Why just discuss the lives of Black women? Aren't lower class sisters having similar experiences? And what about Latina and Asian women?

Veronica Chambers: (Writer) Lorraine Hansberry once said that to achieve the Universal, you have to pay very close attention to the specific. That's basically the mantra of my entire writing career.

tH: The media, Newsweek specifically, would have us believe that educated Black women are in such a pitiful state-- having a huge glass ceiling to try and break, not having any well-educated, financially stable brothers to marry, not having the time to support and maintain meaningful relationships with our family and our girls, and the list goes on. How much of this scenario affected the type of story YOU wanted to tell?

VC: I very much wanted my book to be a book about black women who are in transition, who are struggling with some issues, but also who are living in joy. I think there are a lot of (genuinely) happy women in my book.

tH: What was the most significant discovery you made as a result of writing this book?

VC: I think the big discovery for me was that really there are so many paths to happiness. What stays the same, among women who lead fulfilling lives, personally and professionally, is having the vision, patience and fortitude to stay on your road, once you choose it.


~ AI is a documentary writer/producer living in Washington DC. She is loving her 30's and all her blessings, even when they come in unsolicited packages.

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Ovarian Cancer Facts

September is Ovarian Cancer Awareness Month. How much do you know about this form of cancer? Here are some stats about the disease and how it has affected women of color in the last 5 – 10 years. The key to beating ovarian cancer is early detection, so make sure to see your physician at least once a year!

- National statistics show that from 1990 to 1996, African-American women had a lower incidence of ovarian cancer than either Latina women or Asian/Pacific Islanders, but had higher death rates from ovarian cancer than either of these two groups.

- African-American, Hawaiian, and Alaskan native women have overall cancer mortality rates that are at least 40% higher than other minority populations.

- From 1991 through 1998 in our nation's capital, African-American women represented two-thirds of all deaths from ovarian cancer, while far more cases were diagnosed in Caucasian women.

~ From www.drdonnica.com

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Black Love
by Angela Ards

Lately, I've noticed in myself, and among my peers, this growing desire, both primal and political, to protest the destruction of our families. We feel we've paid too high a price for an earlier generation's free love. "Family time" has become our mantra as we see that the Reverend Jesse "It's nation time!" Jackson is just somebody's babydaddy. Love is not all that matters. But as bell hooks writes in "Salvation," her book on black love, "Without an organized, mass-based, progressive, anti-racist political movement, which we also need, it is all the more crucial that our homes become sites of resistance." Revolution begins at home.

One weekend my man and I spend hugged up, reading to each other, raiding the fridge, and talk-talk-talking until words are beside the point and sex an afterthought. As a benediction to our weekend, we share a shower and emerge late Sunday evening in search of food. For a hot minute we fret this whiling away of days has been stereotypically lazy, of the eat-and-sleep variety. It takes no time to realize that, in this era of black communities beset by so much self-hate, black love is rare and radical. Giddy as we are, we imagine Black Love Day-- a national holiday to celebrate black families. Instead of boycotts, marches, mass-transportation shutdowns so that white folks can see how much they need us, black people would stay home and make love, as a reminder of how much we need each other.

Those just "kicking it," just "messing around," just "trying to hit it" could use the day to consider something more serious. The defacto polygamy that is so dangerously rampant (can we all say HIV? HPV? STD?) would be urged to become more honest, consensual, and safe; there are men and women who are down with open arrangements, and they should hook up. Singles still waiting for that prince or princess could practice self-care to develop the capacity to love and recognize its arrival. Everybody would read Zora Neale Hurston's "Their Eyes Were Watching God," the consummate black love novel of a man and a woman striving to live as equals, even as they sometimes falter in that quest. So far, it's a private rather than a national agenda that we observe. During one impromptu celebration, the talk-talk-talking reveals that my love and I have the same wild fantasy: to share 50 years of marriage with one person. Both of us just past 30, we're getting kind of old for this to be a possibility, but it's not our age that makes us hesitant. With healthy living, modern medicine, and lots of luck, it could happen. What holds us back is that the evidence all around suggests that the odds are against us. We fear that we've been so damaged by abandoning fathers, abrasive mothers, that it's naïve to try for something lasting. We don't want to mold our relationship to mirror traditions that don't serve our realities. We rack our brains to name couples whose unions we admire. The lack of viable paradigms and role models humbles us. Can we be so arrogant to think that we can make love between black men and women work when, besides Ruby Dee and Ossie Davis, the couples around us largely have not? Will we look the fool for trying? I guess time will tell.

It requires patience and undoing some damage. I don't want to be another bitter black woman haunted by my father's absence or that man who opened my heart only to leave scars. He doesn't want to be another bitter black man still smarting from his mother's shortcomings or that woman who used him. Nobly trying to be above it all means that the hostilities appear as stories of friends who are struggling with no-count brothers and evil-ass sisters. The misogynist rap lyrics he shares supposedly so we can both concur that they're hateful feel like sly ways to vent anger toward women. When he winces at my rants about the boys in the park who follow me around, sharing unimaginative musings about the uses of my "fat black ass," I suspect I'm doing the same. We endure and embrace these eruptions of unresolved history like labor pains, knowing that we are creating something new, from scratch. There are no set roles. We play to our strengths and pick up the slack. I cook the most, because it's relaxing and I enjoy feeding friends, but he burns in the kitchen most regularly. He also washes dishes, the chore I avoid like the plague, and takes the heavy lifting. At times what looks like tradition is more personal sensibility. Like, I have this drill that I bought myself and learned to use with passable skill, but I'd rather not, and so still feel like a good feminist as he installs the bookshelves. We say thanks a lot, which sounds kind of formal but is actually very nice because it's a reminder that we're choosing to love. Nothing is certain except change. But if any one should have cause to ask, "Where is the love?" I feel, like black feminist June Jordan, that I can respond with faith: "It is here, between us, and growing stronger and growing stronger."

~ Angela Ards is a writer based in Brooklyn, NY. Black Love is an excerpt from a previously published story which can be found in its entirety at: Alternet.Org

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