Black, Brown and White

Once again, I took myself to see a movie tonight, and it turned out to be such a good call: The movie was I am Not Your Negro, and it was super powerful, if a little depressing. I'd rather be a little depressed, though, than ignore the reality of the Black experience in America, then and now.

As James Baldwin says near the end of the movie: Not everything that we face can be changed, but nothing will change that we don't face.

Amen brother.

Here's a song that tells it like it was, and I'm afraid in many ways, still is, to mark this day:

This little song that I'm singin' about
People you know it's true
If you're black and gotta work for a living
This is what they will say to you

They says if you was white, should be all right
If you was brown, stick around
But as you's black, m-mm brother, git back git back git back

I was in a place one night
They was all having fun
They was all byin' beer and wine
But they would not sell me none

They said if you was white, should be all right
If you was brown, stick around
But if you black, m-mm brother, git back git back git back

I went to an employment office
Got a number 'n' I got in line
They called everybody's number
But they never did call mine

They said if you was white, should be all right
If you was brown, could stick around
But as you black, m-mm brother, git back git back git back

Me and a man was workin' side by side
This is what it meant
They was paying him a dollar an hour
And they was paying me fifty cent

They said if you was white, 't should be all right
If you was brown, could stick around
But as you black, m-mm boy, git back git back git back

I hope when sweet victory
With my plough and hoe
Now I want you to tell me brother
What you gonna do about the old Jim Crow?

Now if you was white, should be all right
If you was brown, could stick around
But if you black, whoa brother, git back git back git back

Iris

Forgive the flashmarks --Art by a UW professor

SUCH a great day today. Wow. From start to finish.

It started with a fun interaction with the man at the post office who asked me if I'd like anything else at the end of the transaction, to which I replied: "Nope, I believe you have met all of my needs this morning." He smiled: "It's been a long time since I've heard a woman say that."

I walked out with a spring in my step, grateful once again that my own lengthy period of having to meet so many of my own needs is coming to a close. Thanks Universe!

And then I got to spend 90 minutes talking with a UW Art professor who is an absolutely fascinating human being. I feel so fortunate to be in the role I'm in now, for which I am in part responsible for helping extend the impact of the brilliance of so many of our School of Education faculty. What a privilege!

The rest of my work day was productive in ways that I've needed it to be for a while but found elusive, and that's a feeling I have in general about my life right now. Like things are finally starting to fall into place. The vedic astrologer said that I am in a time of transition right now -- that there is a real sense of Before and After - that I now have the opportunity to slap a contract down in front of God with my childhood as collateral and demand a new life. And so I have.

I also got to go to yoga today with the one of my favorite teachers and a bunch of my favorite fellow yogis, where I just felt like more is possible in my body, with my body -- again, the same way I feel in my life right now. Which is a pretty great feeling.

Mind you, as I let all these fabulous feels come in, sometimes the hard ones come in too, as happened this morning during my yoga practice when I burst into tears during my sun salutations. I just remembered my Dad saying that he did not remember abusing me, but if it happened, he was deeply sorry and permanently ashamed. I feel that shame emanating from him, and I wish it wasn't there. I really do. Just not enough to take it on as I did before. And not enough to pretend it isn't there as I did for a very long time.

Perhaps this is why the armor is back, behind my heart, that went away a couple of weeks ago. I hoped it was gone for good, but I guess I should have known better. This cycle may well be lifelong -- protect myself here, open there, lather, rinse, repeat.

Finally, it is this song that has been on repeat on my inner ipod today. I love it when that happens -- not as a result of hearing a song externally -- but by tuning into my very own soundtrack:

And I'd give up forever to touch you
'Cause I know that you feel me somehow
You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be
And I don't wanna go home right now

And all I can taste is this moment
And all I can breathe is your life
When sooner or later it's over
I just don't wanna miss you tonight

And I don't want the world to see me
'Cause I don't think that they'd understand
When everything's made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am

And you can't fight the tears that ain't coming
Or the moment of truth in your lies
When everything feels like the movies
Yeah, you bleed just to know you're alive

And I don't want the world to see me
'Cause I don't think that they'd understand
When everything's made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am

And I don't want the world to see me
'Cause I don't think that they'd understand
When everything's made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am

And I don't want the world to see me
'Cause I don't think that they'd understand
When everything's made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am

I just want you to know who I am
I just want you to know who I am
I just want you to know who I am

Isn't this what we all want? I wanted so desperately for my parents to know who I was, but they don't seem to hold that capacity.

Just one more reason I feel so incredibly fortunate to be in love with someone who truly knows who I am. It's such a great feeling!

My Country Tis Of Thee

Full moon today, and in the Ashtanga tradition, that means rest. It's not easy to take rest, when you are used to starting your day with a vigorous practice, but when I asked PJ how to deal with the rough feeling that can come on a day of rest, he suggested I do what he does: stay in bed most of the day.

So I decided to try it. Sans phone. Sans computer. Just rest. I also read -- finished my book, polished off a couple of issues of the New Yorker -- it was heaven. Later in the day, I did manage to get outside and garden, but I didn't leave home, and the only person I talked to was my neighbor.

It was glorious.

And I'll tell you what else was glorious: the article in the New Yorker about Aretha Franklin. Wow. She has not had an easy life, but dang, does she have a gift. Although I've blogged about this song already, if you haven't seen the video of her singing Natural Woman with the President crying in the background, it is well worth your time. So phenomenal.

Speaking of being moved to tears, patriotic songs like this one always do that to me, but with Aretha at the mic, well, I'm moved even more:

My country, 'tis of thee,
Sweet land of liberty,
Of thee I sing;
Land where my fathers died,
Land of the pilgrims' pride,
From ev'ry mountainside
Let freedom ring!

My native country, thee,
Land of the noble free,
Thy name I love;
I love thy rocks and rills,
Thy woods and templed hills;
My heart with rapture thrills,
Like that above.

Let music swell the breeze,
And ring from all the trees
Sweet freedom's song;
Let mortal tongues awake;
Let all that breathe partake;
Let rocks their silence break,
The sound prolong.

Our fathers' God to Thee,
Author of liberty,
To Thee we sing.
Long may our land be bright,
With freedom's holy light,
Protect us by Thy might,
Great God our King.

These songs always inspire me to keep trying to make good on these promises for all Americans. Also in the New Yorker was a story of the mentally ill in Florida prisons. I cannot abide treating human beings inhumanely, and I'm going to do what I can to change it. Call me a hug-a-thug (term from the article) if you must, but all people deserve to be treated with dignity.

After all, how can we expect more from others than we refuse to give of ourselves?