Dance I Say!

So I went to a thirtieth birthday party on Saturday and was once again reminded of the ugly American institution of slavery. Yes, I’m weird like that. I know this is not the typical thought of a partygoer on a Saturday night, but I wasn’t drinking, so it is what it is. As Flo Rida blared off the iPod and a circle formed around the spastic gyrations of the birthday girl’s coworker I couldn’t help but laugh at the irony. Here was a white woman dancing and singing for the entertainment and enjoyment of a room full of black folks.

It was a spectacle, a la this right here. Dance white lady, dance!

My friend who invited me to the soiree wondered how anyone could face Miss Sally on Monday morning. Miss Sally, who was constantly mistaken for the birthday girl’s supervisor (thank the Lawd she wasn't). Miss Sally who had Supermanned, had gotten low, had bumped and grind and saw nothing wrong with any of it. Personally I can’t imagine seeing any of my coworkers on social level…a happy hour? Sure. But inviting them to my birthday party? Hell no! I mean how would you react if your Miss Sally type coworker (and older white woman) asked you the status of the Jackson Report after you watched her essentially make a fool of herself in front of your friends and family? Cue side eyes and suppressed laughter. It’s easy to blame general debauchery on the rain and the Vodka. And I know liquor makes folks have a good time, for some it's a basic requirement. But I’ve always been of the thinking that alcohol just brings to light the desires that have been latent but always there, which made Miss Sally’s singular dance party all the more scary. Alcohol lends balls to people as it takes away their inhibitions, but sometimes it goes even further and robs folks of their shame and embarrassment. Two essential things necessary to save face…or at least tiny shreds of dignity.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I laughed my buttocks off at Miss Sally’s expense. But then felt bad as people encouraged Miss Sally to keep shaking her tail feather. Miss Sally surely thought she was doing something, yet we were all laughing at her and not with her. Even as she sat down to rest the crowd wasn’t through. We wanted more good times, more giggles, more off beat movements, and exclamations that Miss Sally sure was one crazy ass white woman.

And then I thought of the numerous black folks who’ve had to play Miss Sally’s role in this American drama, only sober and painfully aware. How circles of Anglo faces encamped them to be entertained by our dancing and singing for hours on demand. The irony then made me sad. The dancing made still me laugh. Our collective demand on Miss Sally also made me scared. And when Miss Sally said she was ready to go home at 2:30 am…the party ended. Why? Because there was nothing left to entertain us, not even ourselves.

See You in Seven

An Apology to the Old and Pregnant

So I’m doing my part to save the planet by riding the bus to work. Okay let me be honest, I’ve been riding mass transit since before it became the fashionable thing to do, but since being ashy is now classy…I’ve gone green! Go Captain Planet! Anyways I’ve noticed a great influx of folks showing their bus passes these days and things have gotten extremely crowded on the chariot, to the point that bus drivers refuse to move until folks “get back, get back!” But something is going on in this here great land of America; because among the people who are standing up in the aisle for their dear lives are the elderly and the pregnant. All while menfolk listen to their iPods and read Decency for Dummies, never once offering their seat!

Now I will admit that I, Amaretto Jenkins have this lingering idea that able bodied men are supposed to move for women. Now is this a lie someone has told me? Maybe. But I just can’t subscribe to the notion that the men, who at times are teens, in their twenties, or old like McCain weren’t taught how to be a stand up guy. I say this because I have men in my family who know better and showed me through their actions what I should expect from the opposite sex. Or even because you will never see this D-cup gal burning or even going without a bra, because I’s a lady. But I feel that women who lived through the Great Depression and ones who are about to birth a baby deserve a little preferential treatment…not just from the fellas, but from everybody.

But…the fellas should be first to bust a move.

I’m sorry, I feel some type of way about giving up my seat to somebody’s granny while I’m trying to balance in the aisle with 3 inch heels, my newspaper, and the satchel I like to call a purse… when Mister and the Gang are all sitting there watching me teeter and tauter.

I just can’t help but wonder what is going on? Like Hip-Hop, is respect between the genders also dead? I have these expectations of basic decency from men, yet I’m actually surprised when I come across some who actually met them. Last week I was telling Rum Punch about how this young man opened and closed his car door for me and that I was truly impressed. She basically hurricaned on my whole zeal parade by stating that that’s what he was supposed to do. True. She had a point. But I have a few male friends who are all about the Dutch experience. And since I’m able bodied I can open my own door, kill my own spider, and pump my own gas, he'll just sit and wait for me to finish. I don’t know, but I will say that it was nice to live like it was still 1948 and we were just coming home from the drive-in. To be a woman respected and not have to be the woman who is strong enough to do it all by herself, hear me roar!

I just feel like I should be someone’s partner in this thing call life, an equal if you will. And when I’m old or pregnant I feel like I should be taken care of, not just by my family but by my community. But seeing how folks be acting today woe to me then. Hopefully I’ll have someone in my employ to drive me around everywhere I need to go. Otherwise I need to brace myself for the pain and embarrassment of falling down on the bus, and nobody caring enough to move.

Ouch!

See You in Seven

Stuck in a rut, vol.1

So is having something better than nothing?

So, on Monday I was listening to Love, Lust, and Lies - Michael Baisden's afternoon show on urban radio and a discussion surfaced on Hurricane Katrina. Supposedly, the city will knock down some housing projects that are an incubator for crime, as far an ad-hoc or permanent housing plan for the displaced individuals that is unknown -- check out the Times-Picayune for more details. Now some folks feel like they shouldn't knock 'em down (let the status quo prevail) and some folks feel like the ghettoization of urban communities must die now (change is comin') and Katrina was the impetus needed for change. Bellini would be doing you a disservice if I didn't inform you that many NO resident's fear of a demolition stems from the city council's failure to secure housing for the displaced. Apparently, the New Orleans housing authority mismanaged funds which coerced the FEDs to take the agency over. The Housing Authority of New Orleans (HANO) wants mixed-income housing to replace four public housing communities. But for the residents of public housing the pitch about "mixed-income housing" is a code-word for forever displaced. Once you factor the emotional distress residents already endured with Katrina and now this. . . you can't help but understand their frustration. The aftermath of Katrina is played out in urban communities across the states, so I feel like you guys can relate no matter where you are. . .


So do we knock down a breeding ground for crime, violence, rape, etc. or do we acknowledge that a dilapidated building is home to many and we should allow the stucture to keep on keepin' on. . .???? ponder on that for a few minutes -- cu'z when I got to thinking I realized Bellini was stuck in a rut -- but not for long . . .

This is when my political background comes to good use. . . if city council had the gumption to propose a linkage policy (what is that you might ask-- a policy complemented with a guarantee clause that protects citizens against the perils of doing business on their behalf [i.e. a developer wants to build condominiums and demolish public housing, but claims they will build housing for the poor -- well city council fine the mess out of the developer per day that displaced are left without housing and use those monies to secure housing for the displaced]) but like I said it takes gumption. So, in the meantime what are we to do as we stay stuck in a rut?

cheers,

Bellini