On "Dark Girls" and the Impacts of Lookism

Dark Girls: Preview from Bradinn French on Vimeo.

If you haven't yet, it's absolutely crucial that you give the above video about skin color-based discrimination within the black community nine minutes of your time. Don't worry, I'll wait here.

Done? Yes? Excellent, because I want to have a word with you about it. (I know, a couple of more minutes of your time, please).

There are so many nasty "-isms" in our society, and I would venture that lookism is one that tends to fly under the radar despite its ties with a slew of the others (racism, classism, sexism, etc.). As a white woman, I cannot directly relate with the experiences these black women had going through life with dark skin, but nonetheless it breaks my heart to see women who are so beautiful and articulate struggling like this. "Dark Girls" (or the preview, I should say) is a fine example of how damaging ideas become entrenched in cultures.

Modern society is so focused on looks that the damage lookism can go unnoticed: due to our fixation on looks, it is taken for granted that it is best to look a certain way, that women must be pretty, and that conventional prettiness takes on a narrow definition that makes itself unattainable at best for large segments of the population. You are born with your skin tone, and that's why I believe this kind of discrimination cuts so deeply (disregarding the racial implications for now): your skin is such an integral, unchangeable part of who you are. The rejection of skin is the rejection of the person in it at a fundamental level.

On the topic of unattainable perfection: my boyfriend, Luke, who is half black and half white, has dealt with skin color prejudices in both directions. Biracial people in our society are often forced to exist in a sort of liminal space due to the binaries that we hold so dear: even though most people recognize that you can be two races, you are often put into a position in which you must choose one or the other. Instead of being able to shift comfortably between communities, biracial people often find themselves as double outsiders. Luke often references the fact that the fact that light skin keeps him from feeling "black enough," even though he identifies as black over white. However, being light works in his favor, too. He has access to spaces and opportunities that we can see even just from this documentary are not open to darker black people. That privilege is also alienating.

We must ask ourself why we continue, as a society, to hand privilege to certain people based on their skin color. Despite what many conservatives are saying lately, white people are not the new downtrodden race, and as a white person I realize that I enjoy privileges that I don't even notice every. single. day. We have to start noticing, and we have to start pushing back.

Creating spaces of universal acceptance is a huge job that we all must undertake. What we see in "Dark Girls" is the fact that the attacks come from within our own social groups. Women police other women, people of a particular race police others of their race, and so on and so forth. It takes us-- the brothers and sisters in arms, the insiders-- to get that change rolling.

As I often say with issues of weight, it is time for all of us to not only to refuse to buy into beauty standards ourselves, but to engage an open, positive dialogue with others. It is time to call people out who say nasty comments about others' looks. It is time to instate a No Looks-Bashing Zone around yourself with a zero-tolerance policy. It is time to stop laughing uncomfortably when a friend makes a comment about their own appearance-- because I know sometimes it is hardest to stand up to our friends. These people who have been indoctrinated with the belief that their skin-- or any aspect of their physical appearance-- makes them somehow less than need help to see it in another light.

No one is less worthy of love, happiness and success because of their looks.

We cannot be complacent. We must fight for our friends, our sisters, our mothers, our wives and ourselves.

People brought these -isms into the world, and we have the power to take them out.

Have you experienced prejudice or privilege based on your skin tone?

On Being Estranged

 ~xlatexnightxalumnix

When I was little, my father would come to pick me up every Sunday at 10 AM. He would pull up to my grandparents' big house in a black Cadillac and his brown leather jacket. We would go to a big pond in the middle of town to feed ducks before walking through the old revolutionary war cemetery behind it. We would spend hours winding through the headstones and he would teach me history. Our history is important. Hours would pass and we would cautiously wind down the hill by the old red farmhouse to get back to the car. When we got home, I would scurry up the big hill in front of my grandmother's house while my father waited on the sidewalk below. I would bend my knees and spring, fluttering downward toward his arms and he would catch me. After a few jumps, he would say he had to go. I didn't want him to. I'd have to stall.

"One more time and last more time!" I'd say. Climb, jump, catch. Climb, jump, catch. And then I would kiss my father on the cheek and go inside.

I am 21 now and I haven't spoken to my father in three years. This was my choice.

Growing up is hard because you begin to see things with adult eyes. I began to see a father who didn't pay my child support despite the fact my mother and I were poor and living with my grandmother to avoid being homeless, who constantly insulted my mother in an attempt to turn me against her, who was selfish, who was emotionally frigid, who did unexplainably perverse things around a young daughter, who forgot my birthday, who was bigoted and close-minded. I began to see a man who helped create my life but was someone I no longer wanted in it. As I grew older, I avoided him. I made excuses for our visits to be shorter and more infrequent. I couldn't wait until the day came, inevitably, when I would have the courage to sever our ties.

The catalyst was an incident I've talked about before but will recap: his reaction to my boyfriend. My boyfriend is biracial, half Black and half White. I had a feeling that when I told my father, who claims to be very progressive but isn't, that our relationship would go from bad to worse. I was right.

"He's half Jamaican," I said.

"Does he look like a Negro?" he asked. I think he thought this was funny. I didn't.

Weeks later, my mother let slip that my father had said he didn't approve of me dating a Black person. I flew into a rage. I rarely initiated phone calls, but this time I did. I told him I knew what he said. I demanded that he be a man and defend it to me personally.

"I'm enough of an adult to have a relationship, so I'm enough of an adult for you to talk to me about it," I said.

He claimed that, yes, he said it, but he was okay with me dating someone of a different race but not marrying someone like that. He said he didn't like the idea of "cultures" mixing. He said that the whole issue should be dropped because my mother shouldn't have said anything. That didn't matter, I said, because I already knew and that trying to keep it from me was hugely disrespectful. He always used to say, even when I was quite young, that his favorite thing about me was how I was more of an adult than a child and that he could always speak to me as such. Apparently I wasn't an adult this time.

That was the beginning of the end. This incident was the very last straw, but not my main motivation for becoming estranged. I didn't need his negativity and lack of support-- emotionally and finanically-- in my life. I stopped taking calls. When my mother told me he was pestering her about it, I told her I refused to speak to him. Tell him to stop calling, I said. He didn't. He called and called and called until one day he sent a letter.

The letter said he believed the sole reason I wasn't speaking to him was his comments about interracial relationships. He wasn't racist, he claimed-- he just wanted his daughter to marry someone of her own culture. He had plenty of Black friends, he said, but he wouldn't want them to date his White daughter. But he wasn't racist, of course. My Jewish grandmother didn't want my mother to date him because he was Italian-- that wasn't racist, was it? He ended the letter saying that my mother was a disrespectful bitch for not keeping what he said between them as parents. He then said, ironically, that if I wanted he could tell me bad things that she had said about my boyfriend. "Tell me if you want to know," he said.

I wrote him back that he didn't get it. I told him I didn't want him to be a hypocrite and tell me what my mom had said (I had a hunch I knew what it was anyway). I told him that not only did his letter actually make me feel as if he was more racist than I did before (and, yes, my grandmother's actions were racist-- a culture's customs can be racist), but it told me that he totally missed the point. I told him I've been to therapy for my anxiety. I told him that the lack of a supportive, loving father in my life-- a dad-- had created a huge hole in my self-esteem and disfunctions in the way I'd related to men in the past. He was a father, not a dad. I told him that I hated him for not even helping my mother pay for my college. "I know you don't have the money," I said, "but neither do we and we're doing it anyway." I told him I hated him for not participating in my life after those days feeding ducks when I was very small. I told him everything. I spilled my heart-- and it was difficult. As much as I hated him, it hurt. But I told him everything. Everything. Including "I don't want you in my life anymore."

He wrote me back. I hoped, briefly, as I opened the letter that it would show remorse. I hoped he would say he understood now and didn't want to lose me and that he would try to fix it and that he was sorry.

He told me I was wrong. According to him, all these hurt feelings were my own hypersensitive delusions. He said it wasn't his fault, that he'd done nothing wrong. He said he didn't know how I could feel that way. Obviously he loved me. Obviously. He said that he was a dad, not just a father. I was being stupid. The only thing he admitted to was not helping us financially. Enclosed was a check for $1000. He said he'd give it to me if it mattered so much.

The letter I sent back was written hastily on a Post-It note.

"Thanks for the money-- I appreciate it. But your letter just shows you just don't get it and you never will. Do not call. Do not write. I'm done."

That was the last time I corresponded with him. He hasn't called or written since.

This has been like a break-up that was a long time coming. It was painful for sure, but inevitable. And in the end, it's left me open to direct my love and energy to better things. To me, that is invaluable.

I am content, truly, with being estranged. I needed it, wanted it. I write this post not to justify it to myself but to assure anyone else who has been through this or would want to sever ties with a family member that it's not a crime-- it's okay. It doesn't make you bad. I sleep better at night without his negativity in my life. I know a choice like mine isn't for everyone. I get questions about it when I finally have to explain the situation to my friends.

People often say to me "oh, you'll come around. You won't want this forever."

While I believe in forgiveness, I believe you can forgive while still admitting to yourself that someone isn't healthy to have in your life, even if that person is a parent. If the same person were an abusive, neglectful ex-boyfriend or girlfriend, no one would tell you you need to have them back in your life. I don't believe in keeping toxic relationships just because that person is supposed to be important to you. He is important because I am here. He is important because our past, as deeply as it has wounded me, has shaped me into an incredibly strong, independent woman. I don't know if I would have turned out better if he had known how to be a dad. Maybe. But all I know is I am proud of who I am today. Our relationship has made me strong.

I told my boyfriend recently that when my father dies someday, I think that I'll be sad, but not for the reasons most people would be.

"I won't be sad for him," I said. "I'll be sad for me." I don't miss him now. I won't miss him then. What I'll miss-- what I'll always miss and have been missing-- is the idea of him, of him being the kind of dad he was when I was very small. I'll miss the fact that my father was never my dad and that his passing will be final death-knell of a relationship that never really was. I've never had a dad, because a dad is more than what my father was to me. Sometimes I think I won't be sad at all because I've already had time to mourn a dad; I've had 21 years to cope with not having one already.

When I was little, I jumped off the big hill out front and into my father's arms. I didn't imagine I would ever feel like this about him. "One more time and last more time," I would beg, hoping he would never leave me. I am 21 now and I have left him. And it is one of the best things I've ever done.

Dr. Laura OR I Will Explode if I Don't Rant About This

I wasn't really familiar with Dr. Laura until today. I saw an article on Jezebel claiming she was "reclaiming" her First Amendment rights by leaving radio after going off on a racist tirade. So, of course, I had to find out what all this business was about. Honestly, though, I'm far more disgusted than I ever anticipated being.

If you want to listen to this-- and you probably should if you want to actually read this post so you'll understand what I'm talking about-- remember it's NSFW due to language. You also may not want to be near anything that can be used as a weapon. You'll be angry, trust me.


DR. LAURA'S RACIST RANT

So I suppose I just want to make a few points.

1. Asking what "you [insert race here]" think or do is racist. There is an implication in these kinds of questions and in the way they are being asked (according to the caller) that people who are not White are in some way fundamentally different than White people. Non-Whites are not a freak alien race. People are people.

2. "Without giving much thought, a lot of Blacks voted for Obama simply because he was half-Black. Didn't matter what he was gonna do in office-- it was a Black thing! You gotta know that!" So if we're going with that assumption, wouldn't it also follow that White people who voted for McCain because he was White are misguided? I think we're all very aware of the fact that many of the lovely American people thought that it "didn't matter what [Obama] was gonna do in office"-- all that mattered was that he was of a different color (and we don't have to get into the whole debate of whether he is omg a Muslim oh the horror!) I'd like to add that I think one of the most crucial factors in Obama being elected was youth, not Black people. I'm pretty sure 98% of Clark University students (many of whom were White) voted for Obama because he seemed to be a force for hope and change, as well as because he was more young and vibrant than McCain.

3. The very idea that Obama being in office should have automatically meant America was "over" racism is ludicrous. Oh, have more Black people been complaining about racism lately, Dr. Laura? Maybe that's because it's still very much alive and well. Maybe it's because having a Black president probably means the head of our country is being judged based on the color of his skin. Maybe they feel now they have someone to back them or a motivation to rise above White privilege. Or maybe it's the same as always because not much really changed and now you notice it because you're delusional enough to have thought that okay now the oppressed people will be happy because look at Obama! Also, it's terribly ironic to hear a racist spewing racist hatred about how racism is supposed to be over now.

4. I know you've complained that you left your show because you've had your First Amendment rights usurped. You are one of the many people in this world who don't understand the First Amendment. First, it's ludicrous to be complaining that your speech is restricted when you have A RADIO SHOW TO VOICE YOUR OPINIONS and then you can GO ON LARRY KING AND SAY YOUR OPINIONS. Second, one of the great and terrible things about the First Amendment is that it protects everyone; meaning that you have your right to say racist awfulness as long as you follow certain rules and everyone else has the right to disagree with you (freedom of speech is NOT freedom from being disagreed with-- you can say whatever you like but remember that everyone else can say whatever they like right back). The reason why the KKK can still exist and spew ignorance is the First Amendment just as much as the reason liberals can protest their rallies is The First Amendment. If you're going to get to talk, everyone has to too. Even though I hate what you've said, I recognize that if we restrict you we have to restrict me, too. You can say whatever you want, but if you're going to claim that people hating you is infringing on your freedom of speech, I have the right to say you're an idiot that doesn't understand the Bill of Rights.


And I say these things, wonderful readers of mine, not because I think any of you need to hear it. I'm willing to bet that all of you are very civilized and kind and forward-thinking. I don't think you need to be reminded that people are people no matter what their skin color is. I think, though, that the only reason incidents like these should ever get any attention is for a wake-up call. I'm ranting about this on the Internet because I am asking all of you to remember at this moment that there are people out there who think these things and that they are the reason that the rest of us need to be strong and take up the cause of equal rights, love, and respect for all people. People like Dr. Laura are the reason that we should talk to our children about race and about how to love one another. People like Dr. Laura are the reason that we need to speak up when we hear or see injustice and try to be the voice of reason. People like Dr. Laura are the reason that we really should question things like our own White (if you are White) privilege and at the very least see it. If we see it, we can ask ourselves how to start to erase it. Moments like these, however terrible, are teachable moments. They are moments in which we have to look at ourselves honestly and ask if we are really doing enough.


EDIT: Anyone who's ever wondered why it's more okay for Black people to say the n-word watch this video (or even if you haven't-- it's really great). Or, at least, why any other race shouldn't get any real say in if they are allowed to say it. And why other races DO NOT get to say it.

Judged Not By the Scent of Their Hair...

 afroholic

You may have heard that, recently, an 8-year-old biracial girl was removed from class because the smell of her hair made her white teacher sick. As far as has been reported, the teacher did not contact the parents (who did know the teacher had allergies) to use a different hair moisturizer, but simply singled the girl out-- the only "brown" student in her Accelerated Progress class-- and sent her to a lower-level class (which, incidentally, had more Black students, whattaya know).

According to Charles Mudede, the girl's father,

"If a white teacher—a person who is supposed to have a certain amount of education and knowledge of American history, and who teaches at a school named after the man who successfully argued before the court in Brown v. Board of Education for equal opportunities for racial minorities in public schools and went on to become the first African-American Supreme Court justice—removes a black student from a predominantly white class because of her hair, it is almost impossible not read the action as either racist or expressive of racial insensitivity, which amounts to the same thing for someone in that teacher’s position."

(read full statement here on Racialicious)

I'm absolutely appalled to be reading about a case like this in this day and age and supposedly civilized society, which just goes to show that racism is nowhere even close to dead.

Of course, maybe the removal wasn't really racially motivated-- not consciously. Still, the implications are very clear, especially when we consider that the 8-year-old was singled out and then sent to a lower level class instead of transferring her to another Advanced Progress program, if the school had one. And if not? The student should not have been removed; the teacher could have spoken with the parents to solve the problem.

I've studied quite a bit of African American literature, as well as taken a class on race and urban education, so I feel like I've seen what's going on here before.

Andrea Plaid at Racialicious breaks it down better than I could, however:

"The teacher employed, according to what Mudede’s and Drake’s daughter said, a very gendered racial rhetoric, namely the Delicate White Woman Frightened by the Negress’ Physical Being.  In stating to the daughter that 'she’s afraid and it’s [her] hair' evokes the stereotypes that:

"1) Black people (including mixed-race people who self-identity as Black—though, in this case, it’s the father who states his child is Black.  No reports so far say how the child identifies herself) are a constant physical threat to whites—like all we think about is how to inflict maximum bodily damage to them.

"2) that Black people (as well as other people of color and white ethnic people) smell bad, especially because they use “cultural products” that white USians aren’t used to.

"3) Black people’s hair is in a dormant or active state of 'fright wig,' which dovetails into the idea that Black natural hair is inherently ugly and the people possessing it as inherently unattractive, especially if the possessor is female.

"and

"4) the teacher implicated herself in an insidious stereotype about white women, namely that of a frail femininity that must be protected from any 'offending coloredness'–in this case, a Black girl with some hair-care products for her naturally curly head attending an accelerated class at a school named for a staunch legal defender of civil rights."

I think what we have here is furthermore a prime example of how racism damages "minority" students in the American educational system. We have a system where, unfortunately, a majority of the teachers are White, middle-class Americans who are already trying to overcome cultural barriers in trying to understand races and socio-economic classes they're not familiar with (socio-economic class not necessarily applying to this case). We have teachers who are taught, through their own experiences and sometimes the poor examples of their mentors, that students of color are less capable than White students, thus they treat them as such.

When I did classroom observations for my urban education course, I saw a population made up of 95% ethnic students and 100% white teachers. I saw White students being praised for their precociousness and a Black student yelled at for daring to read ahead. I was told that the English class I was observing was "the bad class" in front of the students, and that I might want to see the "better" class instead-- which was, by the way, far more White than the "bad" one. 

I heard a story in my class about a very young Hispanic boy who was misbehaving being told he wasn't going to go to college anyway.

I go to a college that runs a middle and high school of mainly "minority" children and has a nearly-100% graduation rate: far higher than most schools in the country. It's a school full of teachers that believe in these kids and empower them without giving a second thought to the color of their skin, if they come from the ghetto, and what is expected of them.

Children are impressionable, and when you throw them into a system that encourages the failure of students of color-- that genuinely believes in allowing "difficult" students to fall to the wayside rather than learn to relate to them-- you are going to get failure. If you tell a little boy from a young age that he won't go to college, and keep telling him and telling him and pointing to that glass ceiling above his head, you will likely get a kid who doesn't go to college. He won't even see it as a legitimate option. 

And you know what else? He'll hate school. He will see it as a place he does not belong, as a place where people are out to get him.

Our educational system is oppressive, and I truly believe that. I don't believe that the 8-year-old girl here was the only Black girl capable of being in an honors class. Perhaps if the students in the lower-level classes were held to the same standards as she was, told they're smart, forced to figure it out instead of being dismissed, they too would be in honors classes. Maybe then the teacher wouldn't have been so able to single out this little girl for her afro, for the thing that makes her different. 

Thurgood Marshall didn't want "separate but equal. Integrating Black students, no matter how goddam right it was to do, seems to have magnified the racism and hatred that exists within our teachers and our system. People aren't born more or less capable due to the color of their skin, but we treat them as if they are. And the longer we allow our educational system to treat them that way, the truer it will appear.

But it will never be true. 

Unfortunately for this little girl, this awful early experience with discrimination may shape her relationship with school forever.

Vogue Curvy

 vogue curvy

Vogue Italia has added a new section to their website called "Vogue Curvy," dedicated to the celebration of plus-size bodies and fashion-- and by curvy, they don't mean girls like Lara Stone. Amen to that. They also started Vogue Black, which I can already tell I love because of the inclusion of an article titled "Love Your Natural Hair."

Both of the sites look excellent, and I'm going to dump a lot of spare time into browsing the contents. Michael Jackson is on the homepage of Vogue Black, and there's a gallery of Curvy Icons in Vogue Curvy. Seriously, I'm not going to get anything productive done today.

I have one teensy problem, though.

While I think that it goes without saying that a major player in the fashion industry acknowledging these two oft-marginalized groups is great, I'm a little disappointed at the idea that they have been sectioned off from the "regular" site. Why not just integrate all of these wonderful topics and photos into the main site? Are people who are Black and fashionable or curvy and fashionable so different from skinny White people that they can't all be adored in the same place?

Is it as bad to have Vogue Black and Vogue Curvy separate from the standard Vogue Italia page? Is this just another way of segregating people who aren't seen as the aesthetic ideal by today's media? Are you offended? Am I over-thinking?  Let's talk about it in the comments!

Martin Luther King, Jr.

"Discrimination is a hellhound that gnaws at Negroes in every waking moment of their lives to remind them that the lie of their inferiority is accepted as truth in the society dominating them."

Be honest: how has race affected your life? What do you do when you or someone else is faced with injustice? How do you think we can work toward a society that is truly accepting of racial difference?

Good Hair? Not So Good.

A couple of weeks ago, my boyfriend, who is the Treasurer of Clark University's Black Student Union (BSU) asked me if I wanted to join him and the club to go see Good Hair. I don't know if many of you have heard about this documentary, but to make a long story short and not make the whole rest of the post pointless, it is a film by Chris Rock about hair in the Black community and what makes it "good" or "bad." So BSU arranged to reduce the cost of tickets and arranged for a total of 28 people to get on a bus and be driven 45 minutes to Rhode Island to see the film. Most of us-- including Luke-- found out about the length of the bus drive when we got on the bus. We vehemently hoped that "Good Hair" was going to be the most amazing movie in the history of movies.

Chris, oh Chris, oh Chris. You are not a documentary filmmaker. No one would normally be asking you to be. But, you see, Chris, when you endeavor to make a documentary, then people are asking you to be documentary filmmaker. Which-- can I remind you?-- you're not. Very not.

The film opened with Chris Rock saying that one day, his very young daughter came home from school asking "Daddy, how come I don't have good hair?" His daughter (who was perhaps 4 at the time? I don't remember, so don't quote me on that) has "natural" hair. The rest of the film was set up to be an exploration of how Black people style their hair and what makes "good hair."

Rock takes us to the Bronner Brothers hair show in Atlanta, where the best hairdressers in the country sell their wares and show their skills on the stage. It is one of the largest hair events around, and Black men and women flock to the show to buy new products, see demonstrations, and watch hair shows.

Rock takes us to the Dudley Hair Care & Cosmetics, one of the only Black-owned hair care companies around nowadays. Their big product? Relaxers. Rock spends a good portion of the movie talking about relaxers and interviewing stars who use them/have used them (the panel he uses throughout the movie includes Nia Long, Raven Symone, Al Sharpton, T-Pain, Maya Angelou, and Melyssa Ford, to name only a few). Some everyday people he interviews refer to relaxer as "creamy crack"-- and perhaps it's just as dangerous; just ask the Coke cans a scientist dissolves in the main ingredient! After seeing that, you may feel a little shocked that mothers bring daughters as young as two or three to get the treatment done.

We're also informed about weaves. Hairdressers go on and on about how women pay thousands of dollars to buy weaves, which then require ongoing upkeep. Rock interviews down-trodden-looking men about their women's weaves, which they are often asked to "subsidize." Several Black men insist that weaves are just one of the things that makes dating White women easier, more enjoyable, and less costly. Rock asks the women on the panel what kind of weaves they have, and when many answer "human," he inquires as to what kind of human. Overwhelmingly the response is "Indian." Rock ventures off to India, where he learns that though much of the weave hair that we get in America comes from the hair shorn from women at tonsore ceremonies, there is also a black market for hair: women sometimes have their hair secretively cut off while they sleep or while they are at a movie theatre, all so someone can turn a profit.

And this, unfortunately, is where Rock's journey figuratively ends. He explores weaves and relaxers and not much else, other than in one scene I am still seething over.

Rock meets with several high school girls to ask them about what they think "good hair" is. All the girls but one (who has, in my opinion, a lovely afro) have hair that is relaxed, straightened, or has a weave in it. One girl looks at the girl with the afro and says that her afro is "cute" but she would never hire her if she walked into her business. Another girl seconds this opinion, stressing how unprofessional natural Black hair looks. The girl with the afro is silent. She looks upset. She is not given a platform to speak. I was absolutely astounded that Rock left this moment rest. It would have been an excellent segue into a discussion on "natural" hair styles, but he doesn't touch the topic. I was enraged.

So this is one of the many things that has me shaking my finger at Rock's documentary. I liked that, by the end, we aren't left with a strong feeling that "good hair" is either natural or treated, as Rock both celebrated and criticized weaves and relaxers. However, we can't really know because natural hair-- and by this I mostly mean variations on afros or dredlocks, or just generally leaving your hair kinky/how it sprouts from your head-- is never really addressed. There is one woman on the panel who has natural hair (she may be biracial, but I'm not sure), and the girl who gets singled out by her classmates. Neither get much airtime. Does this mean natural hair is "bad hair?" I would have appreciated a stance that any way you do your hair is "good" if more options had been presented.

This film left a terrible taste in my mouth. I consider how it began as Rock trying to reconcile his daughter's ill feelings about her own hair. Why not celebrate natural hair? Why not put out the message that there are many beauties attributed to natural and treated hair, and that both are "good?" Why is Rock not taking this opportunity to tell his daughter she's okay-- she's beautiful-- just the way she is? That she was born with "good hair?"

Can you be born with "good hair?"

This film has my brain running angrily in circles. It leaves so many questions on the table. I feel that this topic is so large and so serious for the Black community that it was just not suited to a two-hour film. Perhaps a mini-series would have been better: an episode on afros, an episode on relaxed hair, an episode of dredlocks, an episode on weaves, an episode on braids, etc. At least Rock would have been able to cover all the appropriate ground in that format. This doesn't mean I still don't wonder why, if he was pressed for screen time, he didn't cut down the other segments to include segments on natural hair. Or the history of Black hairstyles. Or the prejudices associated with different styles. Or how men navigate hair culture. Or anything.

Perhaps I'm so bitter because my definition (as well as Luke's) of "good hair" was left out. Luke has a pretty abundant afro. It is well-kept, and in my opinion, just as professional as anyone else's hair. I think it's gorgeous hair. I think a number of so-called-natural Black hairstyles are absolutely beautiful. Just like the hair of any other person of any other ethnicity, if it's kept healthy and clean, it looks good. It seems many people are under the impression that Black hair is just dirty and unkempt (side note: the internet is an upsetting place), which is absolutely not true, especially in the case of dredlocks. I don't know if these people have ever known a White person with dreds, but it's pretty reliably offensive to the nose. That was a bit of a tangent, but I felt a little lost when a conversation on "good hair" didn't at all include the hair styles I feel are beautiful. I felt a lot like the high school girl with the afro seemed to feel. I sat there, waiting, hoping, for someone to speak up in defense of natural hair, but it never happened.

Anyway, I have a lot to rant about with this movie, and I don't know if I'd honestly recommend you see the movie. It's a good conversation-starter (moreso if you already have an opinion, I think), but it's also seriously lacking when it comes to content. I don't know if I'd advocate handing money over to Chris Rock, who seems to have half-assed this project to the highest degree (and did I mention Bronner Brothers Show, which took up a large portion of the film, was also one of the sponsors? Hmm).

Unfortunately, I have class tonight when BSU is meeting to discuss Good Hair further. Most of the members I overheard talking about it shared my feeling that the film was extremely incomplete. Hopefully, though, it will get the members talking about their own definitions of "good hair."

Have you seen Good Hair? If so, what did you think of it? If not, reflect a bit on this post in the comments. What do you think "good hair" is?

International Blog Against Racism Week

The first thing my father said when I told him my then-new boyfriend, Luke, was half Black was "does he look like a Negro?" I was dumbfounded. I didn't know what to say. After a long pause I replied with an affirmative. Yes, my boyfriend looks like a Black person, and I wouldn't have been at all taken aback if that had been the question: "does he look Black?" But "Negro?" It reeked of preemptive hate, of ignorance, of disgust.

I didn't think of that conversation again until weeks later when my mother casually mentioned a phone call she had with my father concerning Luke, in which he told her that he didn't want me dating a Black man. I was enraged; enraged that he would be so racist, enraged that he would go behind my back to gossip about my boyfriend-- a human being, might I add-- as if he were some sort of intrusive foreign object.

I called my father in a fit of anger and demanded to know what exactly he'd said. I didn't get answers. I didn't get sorry. I didn't get what I wanted or needed to hear. I got "you can date a Black man-- but I wouldn't want you to marry one." I was told that I had to preserve my culture, that White people belong with White people and "colored" people belong with colored people. It didn't matter that Luke has treated me leagues better than any of the White men I was involved with before him. No amount of kindness and respect would unkink his hair, narrow his nose, lighten his skin, or erase his Jamaican father that ran away before he was born. To my father, the essence of the person I love so much does not matter, only his race.

That was my first real, true encounter with racism. It's out there. It's very, very real. No matter what anyone says, we are not in a post-racial society. People still say the "N" word in jest and to harm. People cross the street when the see a person of another color walking toward them. People will tell you that love cannot be colorblind.

Here's what I want you to do: check out the links and videos I've listed below. I've got some recommended satires, some slam poetry, a couple articles, and some music. After you've done that, I want you to challenge yourself to do the following: next time someone makes a racist remark-- even if it's supposed to be a "joke"-- say something. Don't stand idly by and condone their ignorance. Tell them that what they're doing is wrong. Ask if they know that the words they're saying are hurtful. Whatever you do, don't just let it go. We will never even be able to entertain the idea of a "post-racial society" until we stop treating racism as acceptable.

As part of International Blog About Racism Week (it officially ends on Monday, but don't let that stop you), here are some videos, links, and great books for you to check out and get you really thinking about racism.


Abolish the "N" Word: Watch the intro, please.

Emmett Till

Raising Katie: What adopting a White girl taught one Black family

Erasure by Percival Everett: Black existentialist author Thelonius "Monk" Ellison. is disgusted when he finds out the biggest novel around is "We's Lives in Da Ghetto," penned by a Black woman who spent but one weekend in Harlem. To poke fun at her novel, he writes a parody titled "My Pafology." To his disgust, it quickly rockets to the top of the bestseller list and for the first time in his writing career, he is a highly recognized and highly paid. Percival Everett is an exquisite writer and this book is one of his finest.

Negrophobia by Darius James: the most bizarre book you'll ever read. I won't spoil it, but it's thick with delightful social commentary.

Pinktoes by Chester Himes: all you need to know is that it's about Mamie Mason, a Black socialite, who attempts to promote racial harmony through wild, desegregated orgies. One of the more entertaining satires I've read.

Black No More by George S. Schuyler: the first African-American-written satire known. Schuyler creates a world where science has allowed Black people to turn themselves into White people. One would think the invention would lessen racism, but instead society becomes more paranoid than ever. A very accessible satire, and extremely enjoyable.

Bi-Racial Hair by Zora Howard: I couldn't embed this slam poem, but do check it out-- it gives me chills every time. Can you believe she was 14 when she wrote and performed this?

Nigger Niggas & Niggaz by Julian Curry



Yellow Rage



Strange Fruit by Billie Holiday



Black or White by Michael Jackson



They Don't Really Care About Us by Michael Jackson

"Some things in life we just don't want to see, but if Martin Luther was living, he wouldn't let this be."