June 14, 2013 marks my 34th birthday and I’d like to “celebrate” with all of my online (and offline) homies.  Here are a few really simple, but awesome ways* that you can help me chug along on this 30-something train. I’d be most grateful if you did any one of them. Heck, I’m just glad you’re reading this right now!

“Like” My New Facebook Page
I finally set up a Facebook page for my writing stuff. It’s brand spanking new. From that page, I’ll be sharing not only my own writing, but also writing from others that has captured my eye. Eventually, I’d like it to be a page full of vibrant, brilliant discussion and that can only happen if vibrant, brilliant people like yourselves “like” it and comment.

Spread the Word about Girls Write Now
I’ve been involved with Girls Write Now for a few years and as the current Mentor Enrollment Committee Chair, I’m very involved with the organization. GWN pairs professional women writers in NYC with teen girls who are aspiring writers. Check out the website for more info and please spread the word that this year’s mentor enrollment application deadline is June 15th. Post about it on Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr or just email the link to people you think might find it interesting.  Every bit helps.

Treat Yourself
Birthdays are usually days where we put in a little more effort to celebrate ourselves. Well, I think we should all honor and care for ourselves every single day. So, for my birthday and just because it’s a day that ends in “y,” I’d like you to take a few moments today to treat yourself. Buy yourself that candy you always gobbled up when you were little, get a fun manicure in that bold color you love, spend some time catching up on your favorite guilty pleasure blog–anything that makes you feel like you love you. When we take care of ourselves, we feel better about ourselves, which makes us treat others better, which makes the world a better place. See, a good manicure could save humanity.

Smooches!

-D

*Editors Note: Of course, if you’d rather go the more traditional route and send me some other fabulous gift for my birthday, that ‘s fine, but only if you do one of the above three things as well. 

The “You Can Touch My Hair” exhibit in New York City’s Union Square was ridiculous.  Black women stood in the middle of the bustling public space with signs that read “You Can Touch My Hair.”  The ladies were beautiful, had welcoming smiles, lovely heads of hair and apparently they were armed with all the patience in the world too because they allowed strangers to stick their hands through their tresses.

The event was advertised as an “art exhibit,” but it was really more of a social experiment/traffic driver for the website (Un-Ruly.com) behind the spectacle. I’m not mad at an entrepreneur figuring out innovative ways to attract people to her business, but I am mad at black women being put on display like some type of freak show.

I have a TWA (teeny weeny afro) now, but back when I had my huge, glamorous Diana Ross-esque afro, people would often ask me questions about my hair and sometimes would ask to touch it.  One person stuck his hand into my afro without permission, but for the most part people were very respectful when asking to touch my hair.  Probably about 80% of the people who asked to touch my hair were black women who were looking for hair advice or product recommendations.  I think I acquiesced more times than not because the interest was specific and not creepy.  This exhibit? Not so much.

Black hair is a wondrous thing, so I get the interest/fascination, but this petting-zoo set-up is not the way.  I have complimented strangers on their hair plenty of times, but I have never and I mean NEVER asked to touch a complete stranger’s hair.  I might want to run my fingers through a girlfriend’s new weave or freshly fluffed fro, but not a stranger.

Putting black women on display and giving consent for strangers to touch them does nothing to improve cross-cultural dialogue.  Should we put other types of people in public squares with signs, so that people can poke and prod them and ask (probably offensive) questions?  What’s the immigration status of that Latino male over there? Is that white girl’s ample butt real? Is that Middle-Eastern looking guy a Muslim? * This thought must be accompanied by eerie music. *  These are questions that might roll through a person’s head about strangers of particular demographics that they see on the street, but playing grab ass or asking to see a green card or asking any sensitive question with a built-in assumption would all be rude, socially unacceptable things.

Which is why I was so happy to see protestors at the “You Can Touch My Hair” exhibit with signs that read things like “I Am Not Sara Baartman” and “No, You CAN’T Touch My Hair.” Yes! The ladies holding those signs took the words right out of my mouth and I’m someone who has let a stranger touch my hair. The difference for me is a one on one organic encounter from a non-creepy person vs. being a display in an “exhibit.”

Copping a feel on some random black woman’s hair in the middle of a park doesn’t do much to forward multi-cultural relations, but it does put black women back to commodity/object status.  I’m sure this “You Can Touch My Hair” shtick was a win for the website, but that’s seems to be the only winner in this situation.

I spent a couple days in Washington, D.C. last week and had a good ol’ time.  D.C. is only a hop, a skip and a jump from New York (four hours on Bolt Bus), but I hadn’t actually visited Chocolate City since Obama’s 2009 inauguration. Why? No reason. Just hadn’t gotten around to it.  But I’d been meaning to get down there for a while and finally decided to just buy a ticket and go.  Delightful decision.  *Pats self on back * Here’s a little recap of the awesome bits of my trip. Dig in please…

Genealogy
Those of you who know me for realz or who follow me on Twitter, know that I am a HUGE genealogy geek. One reason that I wanted to get down to the District was to take a picture of my great-great-grandfather’s name on the African American Civil War Memorial.  Mission accomplished. I “found” my great-great-grandfather a couple years ago and discovered that he was a Civil War veteran.  Earlier this year I got his 100-page pension file from the National Archives.

I literally squealed when I got that thing of beauty in the mail.  It felt so real and important to have an ancestor with records in the National Archives. My family. I got those records with the intention of learning more about my ancestor’s life post-war and I did. But, I ended up being completely intrigued by his wife. This woman, my great-great-grandmother, buried her youngest child (a toddler) and then a couple months later buried her husband and was left with 13 children  to raise on the meager salary of a washer woman in rural Kansas.  It took her over a year to get her late husband’s pension, but she finally got it. Talk about strength! Sounds corny, but I literally think about her whenever I’m feeling blah or not wanting to trek to an event because it’s faaaaar or finding it hard to put in that work for a deadline. If she did all of that, surely I can successfully navigate my relatively easy-going life.

As far as my Civil War vet ancestor James H. Stewart, he was also a very special person. Though he was born in the 1830s, he was never a slave. His parents were never slaves. They were free “mulattos” from North Carolina. He was already a free man, but he decided to leave Indiana and go all the way to Massachusetts (55^th Regiment) to fight for freedom in the Civil War. That’s a stand-up dude.

When I ran my fingers across his name on the memorial, it wasn’t a particularly emotional thing at the time. I was hot, I had walked from the White House (more on that later) and I knew his name would be there. But later, I thought about the fact that I was likely the only person who had EVER gone to that memorial specifically for his name. This hero, this man who fought for freedom and spent four weeks in a military hospital, has been all but forgotten.  I can’t have that. Part of this genealogy obsession for me is that I want to not only remember my ancestors, but to honor them. I salute them. Their perseverance is the reason that I’m here today. I’ll be writing more in-depth about the whole ancestry thing in the near future.

Homies
Another reason I was in D.C. was to kick it with some of my favorite people. I got to hang with a bestie/former college roommate and her guy, a friend I met in NY years ago who now lives in the DMV and another college buddy. Good times, good times. I also met up with an awesome individual who is a potential mentor and definitely someone with whom I want to stay in contact. Cute drinks, good food, great conversation—all of those things were part of the kicking it portion of my trip.

City Love
I love cities. I love studying and experiencing cities. Give me a warm, sunny afternoon and a walkable city and I’ll be one happy woman. That’s exactly what happened in D.C. I stayed at the Washington Hilton on Connecticut Avenue and T Street NW, just a few blocks from Dupont Circle. (Awesome shower, by the way.) I know D.C. can be sketchtastic, so I asked a friend of mine who lives in D.C. if it was a safe for me to walk around that area. His response? “At worst you would have to be worried about being glitter bombed.” Niiiiiiiiice! I was terribly excited about the prospect of being glitter bombed, but sadly it did not happen. Boo.
I did, however, walk around quite a bit. I never took the Metro. I walked everywhere.  Walked from one meet-up to the next. Walked from my White House selfie to the African American Civil War memorial and so on and so forth.  On that walk from the White House to the memorial, I inadvertently came upon a neighborhood that wasn’t quite hood, but hood-ish. Like, the landscape changed from big shiny buildings and people in power suits to liquor stores and check cashing spots and more ummm “interaction” with folks on the street. Your typical light-weight street harassment. Since I live in Harlem, I felt right at home!

One thing I noticed though when I had a solo brunch in my hotel’s vicinity was the whiteness of it all. Chocolate City my ass. I was hella in the vanilla part of town. I was the only chocolate to be found. I’ve read that D.C. is segregated on some metro-Detroit level ish and my little couple days there backed up what I read.  That’s crazy pants. But that’s also part of the reason why I’m interested in digging into D.C. more and getting a handle on that place.

I’ll be back D.C. I’ll be back.

The making of my current vision board.

Last week was a long, crazy and very busy week for me, so it was fitting that Week 7′s reading focused on regaining a sense of connection. I was being pulled in so many different directions, it’s very easy to lose sight of your personal or creative goals at such times.

My favorite quote for this week was from Martin Ritt. He said “I don’t have a lot of respect for talent. Talent is genetic. It’s what you do with it that counts.” Yes, sir. If you’re the best writer on earth, but you words never leave your personal diary, you’re not doing much to share your gift with the world, right? And even though it can be really scary, sharing my work feels good. Gotta work on pitching more this week, come to think of it.

Some of the tasks and exercises for Week 7 were related to essentially creating a vision board, so I skipped those. I already have a vision board. I think one is enough. It did remind me to get back on my calligraphy grind though.

For my Artist Date, I went to the Bronx Museum of Art. I was actually there for an urban policy event, but the museum made the exhibitions available for guests. It was cool just to be in the Bronx at all. I honestly haven’t  been there much outside of going to the Bronx Zoo, so it’s nice to see a bit more of the city than I normally do.

“Guap”

Week 6 reading was largely about finding that sweet, beautiful intersection of doing what you love and making money.  Interestingly enough,  my manicure for that week (which I did for myself before I did that week’s reading) was money-green and I called it “Guap.”

Had some FABULOUS morning pages. Like, seriously fabulous. I got out some good ideas and uncovered  really interesting underlying reasons/motivations for things that have been brewing in my head as of late. One practical thing that came from the Week 6 tasks was writing down documenting every single penny I spent during the week. That’s basic budgeting stuff really, but I live in a neighborhood that has a number of cash-only establishments/services and so even though my bank statement will tell me very clearly how much I took out of an ATM, I don’t really know what I spent my money on precisely unless I make a point to keep track of those cash transactions. So, I appreciated that exercise and I’m going to continue that for at least 30 days to see where my money actually goes on a monthly basis.

Another very cool task for the week was sending postcards to five people. I have tons of pretty stationary, so   I opted for handwritten notecards over postcards. I’ll be mailing them out in the morning, so technically I didn’t execute that particular task until the following week, but the intention and spirit were there.

About to dig into Week 7 reading right now. Looking forward to it!

Detroit City is the Place to Be: The Afterlife of an American Metropolis by Mark Binelli is a good read.  What I appreciate most about the book is that it is a random-ish collection of “stuff” about Detroit and the surrounding areas (past and present) that is not a woe-is-me/ruin porn take on the city nor is it an overly sappy cheerleadery book.

Binelli was born into a family of entrepreneurial Italian immigrants in metro Detroit and moved to Detroit proper as an adult. “His” Detroit of his childhood (his dad owned a business in Detroit) and his subsequent observations as an adult Detroiter are of course a bit different than “my” Detroit as a black woman born and raised on Detroit’s west side, but that’s not at all an issue. It’s eye-opening to see things from his perspective and much of the book is from a journalistic approach anyway. Binelli is generous with the footnotes and I like that. I’ll also be adding a number of the books in the bibliography to my “want to read” list on GoodReads. 

There are some laugh out loud moments as Binelli describes some of Detroit’s more colorful characters and when he explains long forgotten pieces of Detroit trivia. There are many sobering passages as well in the form of stark statistics and first hand accounts of almost unimaginable suffering, governmental ineptitude and lowered expectations. The parts about Highland Park are downright depressing.

I’m a bit ashamed to say that outside of family stories and my numerous trips to the Detroit Historical Museum, I have not been vigilant about researching Detroit history. So of course I was loving all of the random bits of D-town history provided in this book. For example (and again, I am copping to my own outrageous level of ignorance here),  I didn’t know that  prior to James Couzens winning Detroit’s mayoral election in 1919, he had been Henry Ford’s  longtime financial manager. Couzens was worth over $30 million by the time he took office. Detroit’s population had more than doubled not long before the Couzens administration and the booming auto industry’s workers made enough money to buy the products they made (Happy Marxists?) and obviously Ford was on easy street in the lobbying department, so that spidery web of expressways found early friends.  Don’t you find this fascinating? I find this fascinating.

Here’s another little gem included in Detroit City that is from a 1934 New York Times article:

In a way Detroit is the birthplace of this civilization. It is as truly a world capital as any city on earth, more fascinating to the outlander than New York, more influential than Washington, or even Hollywood. Paris dictates a season’s silhouette, but Detroit manufactures a pattern of life. As a capital of revolution, it is far brisker  and bolder than Moscow in transforming human habits and communizing the output of the machine.

What a great quote about my hometown. It’s amazing to read such a sentiment about Detroit, in the New York Times no less, considering Detroit’s current state of financial and physical ruin.

Generally speaking, I enjoy Binelli’s storytelling style. He provides a good amount of quantitative and qualitative information without force feeding it to the reader without a particular agenda. You get the impression that he had some experiences, did some research and just has a bunch of data that he’s providing to the readers to do with what they will.

It’s not flawless of course, but the parts that I consider to be “flaws” are so minor. For example, Binelli talks about that Sammy Davis Jr. song “Hello Detroit.” (Which I have always HATED by the way. WJLB used to play it at 6 am every morning and I would set my alarm to 6:05 to avoid it.) In the footnotes Binelli says “At no point, in say, ‘I Love Paris’ did Cole Porter feel as if he had to plead for divine intervention on the city’s behalf whereas one of the couplets of ‘Hello Detroit’ rhymes ‘I will always be there for you’ with ‘I will say a little prayer for you.’”

I think  Binelli missed the fact that “Say a Little Prayer”  is a popular song by Detroiter Aretha Franklin. The line was not so much a “pray for US!!” line as it was a nod to Detroit’s rich cultural and musical depth.  But like I said, Detroit City is a very enjoyable read and I recommend it to native Detroiters and non-Detroiters alike.

Honestly, I can’t write much about Week 5 because it’s way, Way, WAY too personal. Let’s just say that Week 5 was a very transformative week mmmkay? Dat about all I can say.

POW! That’s what Week 4′s reading was like for me. In my opinion, the Morning Pages are thee most important part of the Artist’s Way process and this week’s reading had some straight truth about them in there. Here’s a quote from the book:

Over any consierable period of time, the morning pages perform spiritual chiropractic. They realign our values. If we are to the left or the right of our personal truth, the pages will point out the need for a course adjustment.

True. I’ve been doing Morning Pages for a few years now, but it still amazes me that they are so powerful. I mean stuff that I didn’t even realize was swirling around my head comes right out on those pages. New ideas about how to tackle a particular issue appear out of thin air. I find myself uncovering layers of emotions about particular relationships. It’s good stuff, man. It can be a painful process at times, but it is ultimately a good thing for sure.

I try not to say too much about the specifics and focus on my feelings about things as I document this process because I want you to do the Artist’s Way process yourself, but I do want to point out certain things along the way.

This may sound really lame, but my Artist Date was to Staples. Organizational things get me excited and I needed (“needed”) a new label maker. Fun! Fun! Fun!

You’re welcome.

The awesome bracelet I bought that’s made from old typewriter keys.

Week 3 was kinda tough for me.  Some weeks I struggle with doing all of the morning pages and/or digging into the reading as opposed to zipping through it. This was one of those weeks. However, I still got a lot from it. As with anything, you can’t half-ass your way through this process and expect amazing results, so about midway through Week 3, I had to check myself and get back into this for real.

For me, that was the main “thing” from Week 3: getting my ish together. One particular quote from this week’s reading stood out from me. It’s from Goethe. He said “Whatever you think you can do or believe you can do, begin it. Action has magic, grace and power in it.”  Slow clap for that one.  Well said.

My Artist Date ended up  being a trip to the Green Festival at the Jacob Javits Center here in New York. The event featured tons of vendors offering eco-friendly products. There was everything from body butters to paper made from elephant poo to vegan desserts.

I picked up a couple things, but my favorite was a bracelet made out of old typewriter keys. Very fitting for a writer, no? It was great to be surrounded by all those out-of-the-box thinkers. The place was full of creative and entrepreneurial energy. Another awesome week in the Artist’s Way process.