tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3962968592976387872024-03-12T21:20:20.619-05:00Everything over RiceJoin us around the "lunchtable" as we discuss the topics that matter to us, be it the current political climate or our favorite pair of shoes.The Divahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12113914274990731396noreply@blogger.comBlogger349125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-396296859297638787.post-1283615944381779412015-09-07T16:27:00.000-05:002015-09-07T16:50:21.261-05:00Some Things I'm Reading on the InternetI wish I could disagree with this, but . . . <a href="http://clarissasblog.com/2015/09/07/self-pity/" target="_blank">yeah</a><br />
<br />
A very useful perspective on <a href="http://www.drmamaesq.com/2015/08/its-okay-to-be-respectable-its-okay-not-to-be-respectable-too-its-not-okay-to-be-neither/" target="_blank">respectability politics</a> that I will immediately link for my students since we are starting a respectability project next. Yay!<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.forharriet.com/2015/09/miley-had-it-coming-why-nicki-minaj-has.html#axzz3l5Xg2zbk" target="_blank">This</a> and the discussion between Brittany Cooper and Melissa Harris-Perry on her MSBC show might mess around and make me respect Ms. Minaj. But that irritates me because I don't want to. Of course, her refusal to be defined or controlled by any-freaking-body is probably why even people who don't really want to watch Nicki's particular methodology (read: ME) have to acknowledge some truth in her words, if not in her images.<br />
<br />
My children's school seems to be increasing its clubs and I'm wondering if I could start a <a href="http://www.crochet.org/?page=ChildLesson" target="_blank">crochet group</a>. Are there any children who would want to learn this skill? Would they scoff? And am I good enough to even teach them? There are a couple of other groups that have connections with the assisted living homes around; maybe some of the ladies there could lend their decades of experience. <br />
<br />
Just watched<a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/news/divorce-corp/" target="_blank"> this doc</a> in my latest Netflix binge and found the information pretty horrifying (accurate and thorough? I don't know, but definitely horrifying). Is it wrong that I was also thinking that I should get in on all this money? Cringing.The Steel Magnoliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06328240056707198233noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-396296859297638787.post-56180193561386376922015-08-18T19:05:00.001-05:002015-08-18T19:05:39.519-05:00Straight Outta . . .So, I took my last free moments before classes start to go to the movies. I saw <em>Straight Outta Compton</em>. There's so much to say about it. And I'm not even a hip hop head (to the great chagrin of some of my friends!) or from "the ghetto". The commentary about institutionalized racism, poverty, and the value of free speech was really compelling. Also insightful was the underlining idea that these boys/men had skills that they crafted. Even though Eazy E wasn't actually a rapper to begin with, he was a master at marketing, whether it be drugs or music. And, as The Diva pointed out, Ice Cube is, fundamentally, a writer.<br />
<br />
What's disappointing for me, though, is that there is absolutely no reflection or critique of the misogyny at the center of the music or their actual lives. The film seemed to me to be clarifying the reality of the lyrics. The violence they were rapping about was clear in their lives, and they were both the perpetrators and the victims of it. We hear the police use the same language that shows up in the group's music. But if the guns, death, and systematic oppression were worth clarifying, why wasn't there light shone on the female presence?<br />
<br />
First, there is the namelessness of the many and varied women scattered around the film. They are scantily clad or undressed entirely ("nekkid" as Lewis Grizzard would say--"naked and up to something"). They are props, just like the dogs that showed up repeatedly. However, when there was a dogfighting scene, I thought, some people are going to be mad about that--but there won't be many who are mad that the women are recipients of violence, too; I mean, when the police drive a bulldozer or whatever that huge machine was through the door of the house, they blow a <em>person</em> across the room. No one in the house is concerned, and I'm going to assume that law enforcement wasn't interested in her life either. So these women might as well be faceless, since they are interchangeable and strictly one dimensional. They are vaginas, mouths, anuses. It's the definition of thingafication. The film shows that misogyny, but the only focused attention it gets is 1) the scene when the manager tells Eazy to be more careful about sleeping around and making too many babies, a nod to the his ultimate end; 2) the "bye Felicia" scene that is played for comedy. There's nothing that suggests that the objectification of women is problematic. We know that the cultural critique was happening, though, just like the criticism was happening about "F--- the Police" but it gets ignored in the film.<br />
<br />
Secondly, amid the constant conversation about the crises with young black men and the layered jeopardy they face, black females keep getting brushed aside: "Wait a minute, we're dealing with something important here"--just like white feminists during first wave feminism. Yes, the police violence, community violence, systematic academic failures, and profiling of every sort is directed toward black males. But the film inadvertently highlights the degree to which black girls and women are also at risk in basically the same ways (and not for nothing, but compare black girls in school to white girls, and they are also in crisis academically and in terms of disciplinary profiling). They are in the same spaces as black men--in their homes, on the streets, at parties. When the shots ring out, the girls are not immune to being hit just because they are only a girlfriend or hookup. When Ice Cube is being slammed on the hood of a car, the police disrespect and threaten his mother, too. I also couldn't help but to think that when a mother's son is being beaten for no reason, it's happening to her too. Hurting my child <em>is</em> hurting me. I don't think that the film intends to make this point, but it was clear to me.<br />
<br />
So, if what the film set out to do was make clear the ways in which NWA was offering political and cultural critique that was significant to it's historical moment, it does that. But it manages to do that without the self-reflection that twenty or thirty years could have brought.<br />
<br />
I'm not a hip hop head, but this movie still has me feeling pretty gangsta.The Steel Magnoliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06328240056707198233noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-396296859297638787.post-78432108317659188542015-07-15T17:36:00.000-05:002015-07-15T17:39:41.003-05:00An alternate approach to dealing with racism in the form of a rantAlthough I've been trying not to be pulled in, some of the--ahem--let's say, conversations about the Confederate flag and its related language, the South, and naming rights have pulled me in. There are just too many personal ties. People I used to know keep slopping sugar about how much they just love all their friends of every color, but they'll "just have to agree to disagree." There's all this talk about how none of this was a problem for years and years and there's only been unity. That is a completely illogical conclusion unless you've refused to listen for the last several decades. And I know that's not true for these people 'cause they've heard ME explaining things to them.<br />
<br />
People need something to cling to, so, okay. Maybe people need to interpret the Confederacy "heritage" or whatever (of course, I'm a lifelong Southerner, too, but whatevs).<br />
<br />
But here's what I don't get: Why the dismissal of people who say that these things are painful? Do they not believe it? Or do they just not care? "Suck it, people of color!" <br />
<br />
And can they find some way in which their Christian ethics (plastered all over FB pages and such) jibe with their position?<br />
<br />
Most of all, what I don't get is that you call me your friend. You say you care about me. You say you love me with the love of Christ. It's one thing to say that you think "outside agitators" are "stirring things up" but it's a whole other thing to say that a request for change is "stupid" and "oversensitive". But let's say that's true. I'm just hyperemotional (me, your friend, not the "outsiders")--how much does it cost you to just give a little on this? Does it cost less than hurting your friend? who you love? <br />
<br />
I realize that I've switched to second person here. That's how crazy this making me. So I've decided that neither logic nor pathos is going to work. I give up. Have your racist idols. They mean more to you than relationships and compassion and "love". I give up. I know you're going to argue that they're not racist and neither are you. That's not logical, but enjoy it anyway. I tried to remember that my silence wouldn't protect me, but losing my righteous mind and having a stroke is more than I'm willing to give you. Never-freaking-mind. That is my official position.<br />
<br />
So, instead, I'm reading Yo Is This Racist? It's much better than working my way into a stroke.The Steel Magnoliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06328240056707198233noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-396296859297638787.post-65081322770015069542015-05-16T21:59:00.000-05:002015-05-21T07:40:48.213-05:00Girls, girls, girls<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So, I stumbled upon the Billboard Awards pre-show and tried
to watch. I could only get through a few short minutes, though, because I had
all this commentary and no place to put it. It was practically making me itch. What
else is there to do in these circumstances except to blog?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The host made much of Beyonce and Taylor Swift’s open use of
the the F word. Just as I was trying to remember the few lyrics I might know
from “Drunk in Love” the word “feminist” splashed across the screen. I’ve tried
to put aside my academic elitism and be more open to the idea that Beyonce is a
feminist star. Seriously, I just can’t get there. There’s so little nuance. The
idea that “girls run the world” might be nice, but it’s not a reality. I mean,
girls don’t even run this country. Then, Swift says that feminism is only now
mainstream and she believes that it will continue to have an impact for the
next few decades. I’m hoping that she wasn’t actually saying what I think she
was saying because it sounded like she was saying that feminism was some tiny, fringe
movement until this moment—you know, when Taylor Swift arrived on Earth. And
what’s going to happen after feminism has its moment? When its impact ends
after “the next few decades” will the country/world go back to its June Cleaver
aspirations? I’m not sure what she meant exactly, but again, it seems
short-sighted. Nevertheless, I wouldn’t discount the ways in which the likes of
Beyonce and Swift intersect with third wave feminism. But I also wouldn’t put
either of them at the center of the movement simply because they sing songs
about breaking up with their boyfriends.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Nicki Minaj then says that she doesn’t believe women have to
be anyone’s girlfriend, and the host points out that Minaj isn’t afraid to be
overtly sexual. I can’t begin to unpack the complicated ways in which Minaj
both undermines and bolsters feminism’s concept of gender equality. But I do
know that her consciously constructed public persona makes me uncomfortable. In
part, this is because I’m not sure that such overwhelmingly sexualized rhetoric
emerges from a desire to express oneself; I suspect that it is just another
response to the same male-centered ideas that generate lots of other ideas about who women should be.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Then, there is Meghan Trainor and her declaration that she’s
bringing booty back. The host notes her refusal to be fat shamed. Ok,
yeah. But every single time I hear that line I think, “Hello, Miss! Some of us
never lost it!” Many women of color have always known that there’s value and
beauty in a curvy hips and round bottoms and thick thighs. Why would Trainor, in
particular, be the chosen one to bring it back? I am totally giving her the
side-eye.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I think perhaps all of my internal dialogue is a sign that I'm old . . . . <o:p></o:p></span></div>
The Steel Magnoliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06328240056707198233noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-396296859297638787.post-87306359405307392662015-04-28T12:29:00.002-05:002015-04-28T12:29:52.496-05:00Late to the gameSo, I guess everyone else on the planet already had this realization, but I was watching a <em>Grey's Anatomy</em> rerun after watching a DVR-ed <em>Scandal</em> episode and it just dawned on me that Ellis Grey/Sally Langston was paired with Thatcher Grey/Cyrus Been in both shows. <br />
<br />
I get all excited about these kinds of TV connections. Of course, I didn't Google it, though, so there's a chance I'm totally making this up . . . .The Steel Magnoliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06328240056707198233noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-396296859297638787.post-87121866316994505882015-04-13T20:09:00.000-05:002015-04-13T20:09:09.486-05:00Spring Reading?The semester is coming to a close soon (yeah!) and in a conversation with a friend, I realized how little I've been reading for pleasure lately. I'm thinking that I should be reading something I really love as I gear up to read lots and lots of what may be very questionable student writing. Books have been such an integral part of my life for as long as I can remember; it feels weird to realize that this has been so reduced. It makes me kind of sad. I think that one of the reasons I'm bad with directions is that I was always reading in the car. Other children were watching the scenery go by or looking for punch buggies (it was the 80s and pre-Kindle/gaming systems). In the last year or so, I've started books that I didn't finish--that never used to happen. For sure, I don't have time to waste on books that I don't actually want to follow to the end. Still, I used to get lost. I miss that.<br />
<br />
So, I want a book that will excite me. I've read two or three that I liked enough to teach. I guess it hasn't been that long since I've fallen in love with words on a page. Come to think of it, there's been a couple of non-fiction ones, too. I'm hoping that another book will make me want to stay up nights. Tell me: What should I read?The Steel Magnoliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06328240056707198233noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-396296859297638787.post-90323830151061454442015-04-02T17:42:00.002-05:002015-04-02T17:42:59.030-05:00Link Love--You want to read thisI can't exactly find the words I want to say about this, but I'm moved by some of the language in it. Love or unlove. Seeing all children as whole people. I want to govern myself by this principle (I'm pretty sure I don't too much of the time, but still . . .) Anyway I thought I'd share:<br />
<br />
<a href="http://alisonpiepmeier.blogspot.com/2015/03/letter-i-wrote-to-principal.html#comment-form">http://alisonpiepmeier.blogspot.com/2015/03/letter-i-wrote-to-principal.html#comment-form</a><br />
<br />
The Steel Magnoliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06328240056707198233noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-396296859297638787.post-30378178671661710852015-01-23T19:05:00.002-06:002015-01-25T21:57:03.601-06:00RBOC--start of the year, start of the term<ul>
<li>My afternoon class is always turned up to 10. It's a rare semester when that class is sedate or quiet. Last semester, a group of them yelled my name and commented on my outfit each day when I came into the room. This term, they mostly stared at me like they were bored. Second week of class and I've already had to give the evil eye/you're pissing me off look to a student taking out her phone. Questions hang in the air like a bad smell. I may have to start eating chocolate during class before it's over with.</li>
<li>I've exhausted most of the television series I wanted to watch on Netflix. That makes me sad. Binge-watching Netflix has become quite dear to me. I started Twin Peaks, since I didn't watch it originally. I don't know if it's worth continuing. We'll see.</li>
<li>The department somehow ended up with several first year students who don't have a composition course to enroll in. All of the sections are full, so new ones have to be created. But a number of students came begging to be overloaded into my sections. They balked at the idea of finding a class taught by a different instructor. A couple said that the material I chose for my classes was right up their ally. That made me feel really good, especially since I often feel like the work I do in the classroom means nothing to anyone but me. Of course, I still sent them out of my office to find another class. </li>
<li>The pastor of the church we attend asked the membership to fast this month. Skipping meals gives headaches, so I was going to fast from sugar. Then I made a cup of hot tea and the honey was coming out too slowly. So I used sugar. Then I decided to fast from candy only. That's probably not really what the pastor had in mind, and it's probably rather pathetic, but it's the best I can do. And since there people keep leaving mini-chocolate candies on the lobby desk, it's not a small thing to resist. </li>
</ul>
The Steel Magnoliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06328240056707198233noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-396296859297638787.post-27869727099204919512014-12-31T22:13:00.002-06:002015-01-02T21:48:32.428-06:00Things to Do in 2015Here's the plan:<br />
<br />
<ol>
<li>Consciously and intentionally spend time alone doing non-mommy things. Away from my house.</li>
<li>Find a way to keep my children out of my bedroom much more often.</li>
<li>See The Diva more frequently.</li>
<li>Read more books that have nothing to do with class (although I happily have a chance in the coming semester to teach two books that I loved reading for pleasure)--I vaguely recall that I used to do this all the time. What happened to that?</li>
<li>Find truly yummy ice cream that I can eat now that I've discovered a disturbingly sad link between dairy and migraines. I wonder if I can launch a letter-writing campaign to Ben and Jerry. That would be my dream!</li>
<li>Laugh more. Seriously.</li>
<li>Make some proactive decisions about my career instead of waiting for the ax to fall on my professional head.</li>
<li>Cross some more items off my life list.</li>
<li>Enjoy being 40. Try to be fabulous.</li>
<li>Refrain from completely ignoring my blog. Or decide to end it. One or the other.</li>
</ol>
Please be kind 2015. The sea is so big, and my boat is so small. But, our family (my extended family--not me!) welcomed a new baby on the last day before the new year. I'll take that as a sign, ok?The Steel Magnoliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06328240056707198233noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-396296859297638787.post-17873570288338270822013-12-17T16:39:00.000-06:002013-12-17T16:39:59.300-06:00What I Learned from Going to the MoviesIn case there's anyone reading this . . . .<br />
I know it's been a month of Sundays since I've released an idea into the blog-sphere. I've been--I don't know--groggy. But I had a burst of brain activity today.<br />
<br />
I rewarded myself with a trip to the movies. I submitted my grades, on time, and without waiting on and coddling students who didn't turn in work even after second and third chances. And I don't feel all sad about giving them the bad grades they earned, even though I really like some of them. What's really nice, though, is that I saw "The Best Man Holiday" for the second time. I love it! It's just an enjoyable, entertaining, fun film. AND it has Taye Diggs' perfect teeth and Morris Chesnutt's dark chocolate goodness. And the female actresses are stylish and Nia Long should still totally play me in the movie of my life. It's a wonderful rhythm of tear-jerking sadness and laugh-out-loud humor. I think that rhythm reflects the way life seems to me these days. It's a gut-wrenching mix of highs and lows.<br />
<br />
Sitting in the dark, thinking about how nicely styled the characters are, I also thought about how the story underscores how vital friendship is. Our friends really are the family we choose. They help us mark the moments that matter as we are living our lives. They provide context and meaning. Those relationships are intimate in a very particular way. We need them. I'm glad I have good friends. <br />
<br />
And I'm just going to say this, too: I like seeing black folk on screen doing the darn thing. These characters are people I'd like to know, not because they're perfect, but because they are emotional and have fears and desires and they fail and they do the wrong thing and then sometimes do the right thing. And they look good. There's something to be said about the politics of pleasure <a href="http://www.racialicious.com/2013/02/06/class-notes-the-black-feminist-politics-of-pleasure/">(Joan Morgan</a> said it) and it's just pleasurable to view this world get lost. It does still have this weird, generic Christianity that I can do without, but I can forgive that. It makes me happy. It feels good to watch.<br />
<br />
Finally, an unrelated side note: I gave in and "adopted" an Elf on the Shelf for our family. My children begged for one for the second year in a row, but realized that he's as creepy as I think he is. And yet, they say good morning to him as soon as they wake, and tell him good night before bed. It's rather fun to see where he's going to end up every morning. I'm glad he's here. This could be the last Christmas when both of my children fully believe the magic.<br />
<br />
I like to re-read posts from the last few holiday seasons this time of year. I don't think I can do that this year, but I'm reminded that I've had some good ones. <br />
<br />
So, all in all, I think I still believe the magic just a little.<br />
<br />
The Steel Magnoliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06328240056707198233noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-396296859297638787.post-74901660328971392762013-07-08T21:53:00.000-05:002013-07-10T21:46:50.853-05:00What's the Matter Mary Jane?BET just aired a shockingly thoughtful and engaging beginning to a dramatic/comedic series. <em>Being Mary Jane</em> stars Gabrielle Union (who I've loved for years) and bears the markers of Mara Brock Akil (who worked behind the scenes of <em>Girlfriends</em>, among other shows). It's witty and energized. <br />
<br />
But . . .<br />
<br />
I really wish that it didn't begin with that squirly (and dubiously conceived) statistic about black women and marriage.<br />
<br />
Still . . .<br />
<br />
<em>Being Mary Jane</em> is really enjoyable.The Steel Magnoliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06328240056707198233noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-396296859297638787.post-2357561226239307952013-05-15T21:02:00.000-05:002013-05-15T21:02:06.883-05:00Not Very Tempting, Tyler PerryI gave myself an end-of-semester, before my children are out of school treat today and went to the movies. I really wanted to see <em>42</em> but decided to wait until I can see it with my hubby (which really means that I'm waiting for it to come on HBO or Showtime and the children to go to sleep). I had read a couple of commentaries on it, and knew from the get-go that I was probably not the ideal demographic. I don't get along well with Tyler Perry movies. Or Kim Kardashian. But I had just watched the <em>Grey's Anatomy</em> episode with Jurnee Smollett and remembered that I like her. And Vanessa Williams. Perhaps most importantly, seeing it would get me out of the house and out of my head.<br />
<br />
Not long into it, I decided that I needed to blog about it. Watching the scene from the teaser, in which Judith (Smollett) and her lover first have "sex" on his private plane was intensely disturbing to me. The clip presented this as passion-filled and sexy. But I just found it creepy and violent. If I had read <a href="http://www.racialicious.com/2013/04/23/tyler-perrys-rape-problem/">Carolyn Edgar's discussion</a> I wouldn't have been so filled with ick, but I didn't, so I was left to make confused faces in the dark with the four other people in the theater. This character, Judith, says no--repeatedly and firmly, while clawing and hitting this man. Is it just me, or is that rape? She never actually says, "yes"; she just stops actively resisting. Um, that's not the same thing, folks.<br />
<br />
I have lots of other problems with this story, including the bland way that marriage is portrayed, and the fact that Judith complains that her husband Bryce takes her for granted while, in my estimation, she also takes him for granted. She never fully discusses her needs or desires with him--he forgot her birthday the year before, but she doesn't even mention it for the current birthday and then is in despair that he forgot again. I can't remember any scene that depicts them even getting close to sex (except for when she gets all hot and bothered by her lover's innuendos and rushes home to attack her thoroughly confused husband). Of course, when I think about it, people who have sex in this movie get punished, so maybe that's why he doesn't. Then, there is the ever-present problem with overblown, jacked-up religious silliness. I know this is some people's version of Christianity, but it's not mine. I can't even unpack all of that right now. Seriously.<br />
<br />
And then, there is there weirdness of Judith at the end of the movie, old, alone, and limping along with her HIV and unresolved Daddy issues. I'm not sure why she needed to be barely mobile. Or why Smollett couldn't play her at the end of the film. It's all so confusing.<br />
<br />
This probably could have been an interesting plot, but it falls flat as a pancake. <br />
<br />
I did, at least, get out of the house, though. So I guess it was good for something!The Steel Magnoliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06328240056707198233noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-396296859297638787.post-50558436029618510112013-05-06T13:58:00.001-05:002013-05-06T13:58:15.624-05:00A Couple of Random Things<ul>
<li>I seriously love television. If I had any sense it would have been my subject of choice for every academic pursuit. But it's really getting on my parental nerves lately. Condom commercials pop up in every time slot, during every type of programming, even in the middle of the afternoon. And the other day a "Dateline" promo forced me to define "prostitute" for my seven-year-old. Arrrgggghhh.</li>
<li>The grading. Oh. My. Goodness. It's mountainous. And not all good.</li>
</ul>
I think that's all.<br />
The Steel Magnoliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06328240056707198233noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-396296859297638787.post-16060932842597285862013-05-03T11:53:00.000-05:002013-05-03T11:53:47.543-05:00An Appropriate DressI'm still in a haze. Random thoughts keep forcing their way into my head. It's hard to stay focused, despite the mountains and mountains of end of term and catch-up grading that forces me out of bed. I keep thinking of the very strange phenomenon of buying a dress for my father's service. I generally don't like shopping, but this had to be the worse shopping experience ever; it was even worse than when I had buy a dress for my girlfriend's wedding four weeks after I had my son (leaking breast milk, newborn in tow, lumpy post-baby body--good times). I thought I could buy something quickly and never wear it again. I kept thinking of the Langston Hughes poem that says something like tell all my mourners to mourn in red 'cause there ain't no sense in me being dead. (Don't know exactly what to do with that thought . . . ) Mostly, though, I was hearing his side-bar comments, which made me laugh and cry at the same time.<br />
<br />
I'd pick up one dress and hear, "Too short." Another, "Waaayyy too tight." or "That looks nice." I'd see another and hear, "You do know that you have to wear that to church, right?"<br />
<br />
Was I supposed to be looking for something cute? appropriately sad? reflective of his joy of life? It was all just so weird.<br />
<br />
In the end, I was entirely over shopping altogether. I tried on a few dresses that looked too hideous, even for mourning. I bought one that didn't make me look like a potato. I don't know. It got the job done.The Steel Magnoliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06328240056707198233noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-396296859297638787.post-6611389947505863022013-04-22T08:50:00.000-05:002013-04-22T08:59:20.437-05:00The Crisis is OverThe Crisis that showed up a few years ago is finally over. My loving and beloved father went to be with the God he worships. He was ill and in pain, and now I believe he's healed. We had four days to love on him and pray for him and sing the songs he sang. I am grateful. Sad. Devastated. But grateful.<br />
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The Steel Magnoliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06328240056707198233noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-396296859297638787.post-78128547939564106312013-04-07T21:08:00.000-05:002013-04-07T21:13:04.500-05:00Briefly . . .In all the reporting on the horror of Rick Warren's son taking his life, this was the most salient slip I heard, taken from one of Warren's sermons:<br />
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"God never wastes a hurt."<br />
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I so need that to be true. Can I get an "Amen"?The Steel Magnoliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06328240056707198233noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-396296859297638787.post-32194368968551483462013-03-31T22:27:00.002-05:002013-03-31T22:31:08.225-05:00LovePeriodically, I engage in this little exercise with my children. Tonight, I played with my daughter.<br />
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"Does your mommy love you?" I ask.<br />
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"Yes," The Babydoll replied.<br />
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"Well, how do you know?"<br />
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"Because you take care of me. And keep me alive. And protect me."<br />
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That's all I ever wanted to hear, especially that last thing. Reflecting today on the immeasurable love of Christ, I'm hoping that I (and Hubby) reflect that love for our children. Yay for (at least one day of) getting the mommy thing right.The Steel Magnoliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06328240056707198233noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-396296859297638787.post-11861295090873672982013-03-23T18:40:00.000-05:002013-03-24T22:44:12.816-05:00ResurrectionSo . . . I've been gone awhile, and I thought that the season of resurrection is as good a time as any to renew, revive, and revisit my blogging self. I've been in a weird headspace, searching for pleasure in my life. My children are so clear about which activities bring them happiness. They swim and play sports and dabble in music, and the raw joy seeps out of their pores. They are so expressive that it's never hard to know what the giggles and happy dances mean. I had a conversation with a colleague, and we concluded that men also make no bones about what brings them pleasure. Whatever else is going on in the world, men make time and space for what they want to do. But for me--maybe it's that mom thing--I feel like a personal assistant, facilitating the lives around me and serving, serving, serving. When I thought about what I wanted to do and considered my options--learn a new skill? try a sport? join a group?--I could hardly even give a name to the kinds of things I like to do. And then I started to feel really pathetic.<br />
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As I've discussed to death, my career is on life support. I've been thinking about the 18 year old girl I used to be, and wondering if she'd be disappointed that I'm not all fabulous in the ways that she expected. After all, she imagined that at this point, we'd have a couple of books somewhere, and we'd be vacationing in cool, exciting places, and we'd have an impressive title. The Diva told me not to listen to her--she's young and knows nothing! All I can say is, "Sorry girl! I tried." It's just not turning out like we thought. And so, we probably--no, definitely--need to come up with an alternative plan to the bill of goods somebody sold us in graduate school about how this was going to work. We need to make some new connections and try some new projects so that we can travel a different road. One that might get us closer to that impressive title. And perhaps a vacation in Paris (hey--dreams are free, right?!) But more importantly, we need to feel pleasure. We need to be creative and focused in ways that have nothing to do with being someone's mommy or wife or instructor. A colleague suggested that blogging does that for her, so I'm making that my first step to a less depressed me.<br />
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I'm reading a devotional centered around the Lenten season. It's from the perspective of depression (the author is a scholar and minister who lives with bipolar disorder). One of the last entries I read was about how, for her, cycling helps her feel more human and full of life. How she knows that sadness rises up to suck her into an abyss, so she needs to be intentional about participating in her life. I don't have a diagnosed mental illness, but the cycle she mentions has been sapping me, too, in a way. It's been hard lately to keep myself from thinking about how much I suck, to remind myself that I've done some things that other people think are pretty great. I need to be intentional about meditating on the good, even while disappointment and fear and calamity threaten all around me. Otherwise . . . it's just too much.<br />
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So, returning to the blog is the first step. Another is to make some moves toward something tangibly good. I think I'm going to take a sewing class. I've been wanting to do that for years. And maybe I can go from there to learning to quilt, something else I always thought would be cool. And I think I'm going to take another swim class this summer, now that I've moved past my suspicion that my body won't float. I'll let you know how it goes!The Steel Magnoliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06328240056707198233noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-396296859297638787.post-75195350972817890352012-09-06T11:55:00.000-05:002012-09-06T11:55:59.013-05:00Morning After Reflections <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I always knew that Bill Clinton was problematic. With his welfare reform and Three Strikes law, I could hardly say he was the best friend a black girl could have. But I still loved him. In spite of his philandering ways (which I've come to expect of powerful men anyway), I still loved him. He was an intelligent, down-to-earth Southern man who could play a mean saxophone. He chose to love a woman who was just as intelligent and ambitious as he was. And he had so much swagger. How could I not love him?<br />
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Then in 2008, the Democratic Primary happened, and I fell out of love. The way they ran Hilary's campaign--with the not-so-veiled racist attacks on Obama's character among other actions--was disappointing and heartbreaking. I know Bill was fighting for that intelligent and ambitious woman he chose, and that fact deserves a measure of respect, but they could've fought differently. And even after Obama was chosen and won, clearly, there was still bad blood that reared up in Bill's discourse from time to time which reminded me of my initial heartbreak.<br />
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But last night at the Democratic National Convention. . . . It was like when you run into an old boyfriend on the street and he's looking really good and he says he's missed you. For the life of you, you can't remember why y'all had to break up in the first place. So you accept his invitation for drinks and after. And the next morning, you know you won't get back together, but it was really good to see him again.<br />
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Bill's speech was amazing! It was substantive, it was clear, it was witty, it was forceful where it needed to be. It laid it out plain for regular folk. He did the darned thang!<br />
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Last night wasn't enough to make me fall back in love, but it sure was good to see him again.The Divahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12113914274990731396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-396296859297638787.post-40167484470507701732012-07-16T14:28:00.002-05:002012-07-16T14:44:59.144-05:00Popping my head inSo, truthfully, I thought we might be finished here at Everything Over Rice. I wasn't sure if anyone even noticed that we had faded into the carpet. Perhaps we had run out of things to say, and besides, several blogs that I love had come to the end of their roads lately.<br />
<br />But I had a thought today (!) and had a real urge to blog about it.<br />
<br />I was looking at a website about alternate careers for PhDs, and I followed links to several other blogs about how to leave academia, how much the academy sucks, how many other things you can do with yourself. I read the site because it's thoughtful and smart and creative. However. As I've mentioned, I get into jags when I feel like a fool for being in the academy. I start to think that I must be as pitiful as everyone keeps saying. That I really am being paid like a ditch digger and that I hate all manner of committees, students, professors, and administrators. And that the holy grail is never coming to me--well, okay that's probably true. But, what if your particular holy grail isn't exactly what hoity-toity ivory tower folks somewhere decided? What if my entire professional goal is not to be the big enormous star weilding a fiery torch of all things intellectual? What if you don't exactly feel tricked by the system? What if you don't think it's evil and soul-sucking?<br />
<br />So that's the thing. I don't hate it. I'm (logically) concerned that a tenure track job won't ever be available to me unless I move, which is unlikely, and maybe not even then. And that's why I check out these blogs and websites about working outside of academia. If I'm being honest, though, I don't know if TT is the only professional thing that will make me happy and satisfied. The work itself--the teaching and the students and the research--I'm pretty cool with that. And I have most of that even without the TT.<br />
<br />The other reason that I stay in this field is that, while I could probably <em>find </em>other kinds of work, I don't know that I'd want to actually <em>do</em> other kinds of work. I mean, every thought of sitting at office desks with stacks of files makes me quesy. There's also my sense that the perspectives of those who see the academy as the third circle of hell hone in on issues that I just don't believe are absent from corporate or other arenas. My husband is frequently stressed by office politics that seem more intense and at least as illogical as the ones in university hallways. I see how people are mired in work that absolutely <u>must</u> be done <u>right now</u>, lest they trigger the apocalypse. How they are working on laptops all night or arguing in meetings or staying late at the office. And for what?<br />
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There's my dirty secret: I like it.<br />
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So, I'm going to try to avoid getting bogged down in the blogosphere of "academia sucks" just as I'm trying to avoid googling people I know to see how fabulous they are. Both make me feel like I'm failing. <br />
<br />And, besides, I have syllabi to write. The semester's starting soon.The Steel Magnoliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06328240056707198233noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-396296859297638787.post-54887984288653624822012-05-02T18:56:00.001-05:002012-05-02T18:56:38.377-05:00Just ThinkingThere's a <a href="http://www.cbsnews.com/8301-503544_162-57426192-503544/obamas-ex-girlfriends-shed-light-on-his-early-years/">new book</a> coming out in June that will include journal entries and letters from President Obama's ex-girlfriends. These two women were in relationships with him in college and soon after.<br />
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Whether the thoughts are good or bad on the part of the women, it is disturbing to think one's romantic life can be open to the public to this degree. Although most of my young adult relationships ended amicably, I would hate for those guys' journal entries about us to go public. Some moments should be just yours and the (ex-)beloved's.The Divahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12113914274990731396noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-396296859297638787.post-45200143610056178442012-03-21T17:27:00.007-05:002012-03-21T17:42:12.494-05:00Not suspiciousI wanted to share this perspective from NPR on the horrendous Trayvon Martin killing. It is one of many salient, reflective, and sorrowful commentaries by a wonderful writer.<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://www.npr.org/2012/03/20/149003647/trayvon-martin-the-lingering-memories-of-dead-boys">http://www.npr.org/2012/03/20/149003647/trayvon-martin-the-lingering-memories-of-dead-boys</a><br /><br />And because it apparently needs to be said: My son is beautiful and funny and bright and brown. And NOT SUSPICIOUS.The Steel Magnoliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06328240056707198233noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-396296859297638787.post-57291028753940099302012-03-14T19:39:00.003-05:002012-03-14T19:41:53.824-05:00Linking LoveJust wanted to share a thoughtful piece from Racialious. It's worth a read:<br /><br /><a href="http://www.racialicious.com/2012/03/14/we-are-not-invisible-5-african-women-respond-to-the-kony-2012-campaign/">We are not invisible: Five African Women Respond to the Kony 2012 Campaign</a>The Steel Magnoliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06328240056707198233noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-396296859297638787.post-84591615280049992672012-02-22T22:20:00.008-06:002012-02-23T21:59:30.639-06:00A New Thing?You might remember <a href="http://everythingoverrice.blogspot.com/2011/02/it-happens-every-year.html">this post</a> from last year, in which I lamented my yearly cycle into sadness about my career. So, I'm feeling kind of sad again. While other people, I presume, are thinking of the interviews they will have, or the ones they had at MLA, of what they will do next year, I am reminded that I am only hoping for a future. I had a substantive conversation with someone today about what it means to be in academia--not just the paltry number of positions available, but also the frustrations of teaching and research. I came to a new realization of how I might be able to think of the skills I've spent umpteen years building. There actually might be other things I can do with myself. There might be jobs that I can't even name or don't even know about. There might be positions that, even now, I could apply for that I automatically assume that I can't do because I'm such a peon. It didn't help that I walked in the door at home and The Hubby bombarded me with two unexpected opportunities he has to move higher on his ladder; I felt a little deflated because I'm pitifully grappling with my imaginary chances to make a career move and here he is with concrete avenues to pursue.<br /><br />But here's the thing: It's scary. I really like most of the parts of my job. I love running my own little corner of the world called my classroom. I love (about 75% of the time) the relationships with my students. I love, love, love the freedom of the summers and the flexibility to switch things up on a daily, weekly, semesterly basis. I love having the chance to talk about ideas that totally rock my world. I would like to be paid more and I'd like some sense that I don't have to beg for crumbs.<br /><br />So, if I step into some other world, will I have to actually work 9-5? That seems nightmarish. Will I sit in an office all day? Also nightmarish. Will I have to work with a bunch of adults who get on my nerves? Will I even be able to do it? Will I want to, or will I be bored? Will I miss too much time with my children and run screaming back to the academy (where I will probably be thoroughly ignored)?<br /><br />I'm a rules following kind of girl, so the whole idea that I can just up and do something else is nuts! But what if I could actually pull it off . . . .The Steel Magnoliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06328240056707198233noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-396296859297638787.post-75646384402282498562012-02-14T14:45:00.003-06:002012-02-14T14:53:27.546-06:00The Day of LoveIt's Valentine's Day.<br /><br />I'm stuffy and runny and coughing and sneezing.<br /><br />I'm really sad about Whitney Houston and can hardly wrap my head around her death enough to actually believe it. Today I saw a clip of her singing "Guide Me Thou Great Jehovah" which she sang when she was 11. I cried. She's gone, isn't she?<br /><br />I really want to eat the chocolate covered strawberries that I got for The Hubby. I'm resisting.<br /><br />It's cold.<br /><br />But I'm still grateful for all the love in my life. :)The Steel Magnoliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06328240056707198233noreply@blogger.com1