Still militant

Today's the "National Day of Action" for the nonsense that's happening in Jena.



"You must be the change you wish to see in the world." -Mahatma Ghandi

Are you wearing your black today?

It's 2007, but that does that really mean anything?

Growing up amongst the WASPs in the third richest county in America, I didn't really get in touch with my "black side" (if you will) until a year or two ago. I blame it on my environment constantly, but anyone close to the Downbeat camp will agree that I've made far strides in the past few years. A black guy I dated introduced me to Spike Lee movies like School Daze. Baby steps. Then a Korean guy I dated introduced me to hip hop a few years later. Step step step. None of that, however, prepared me for the mass gathering of "my people" (the Black Student Union) in the center of my college campus in the middle of the night, which one of my girlfriends will tell you left me clutched tightly to her in horror and amazement at (in my words at the time): "that many black people in one place at one time." Clearly, I'm no militant black woman. I prided myself through my more naive years in transcending race lines. Then I learned a little about the world and the people in it and prided myself instead in just looking past race lines... not making them important, citing that it was indeed the year 2007. Now at the decrepit and jaded age of 23, I've prided myself in being unapologetically irreverent (bordering on inappropriate)... taking little to no shame in finding the most possible humor and levity out of all things "color"-related. Laughing through Imus. Rolling my eyes at Tyler Perry. Making jokes out of the NAACP's highly publicized funeral for the N-word. After all, life isn't nearly as fun if you're not laughing hysterically through it with the people who bring you joy.

So at any rate, I decided to take a break from Perez and Michael K this morning at work when the idea popped into my head to reacquaint myself with The Boondocks. Today's strip was just too hilarious to pass up. It satirizes the very real fact that Bob Jones University just recently recinded its long-standing policy against students dating across race lines. HILARIOUS! I immediately e-mailed it to my very Irish boyfriend, my black girlfriend who married a white man, my BFF with a penchant for making slightly racist jokes, and my open-minded mother (whatever that means). And then I sat back and prided myself in how far I've come: I could laugh at race-related satire and share it with others.

I went through the majority of the rest of my day at work when one of my co-workers walked into my office and asked me if I was wearing black tomorrow. I'd completely forgotten-- tomorrow, September 20th, has been set aside as a day for thousands upon thousands of people across the nation who are disgusted with the situation in Jena, Louisiana to wear black. To show their protest with the modern-day Jim Crow law enforcement and to stand in solidarity with the young men and their families who are being unfairly prosecuted by a heavy-handed District Attorney. Everytime I read more about the developments, my heart breaks a little more and I question what statements like "we've come so far" really mean. That there could be something called "a white tree" at a public high school in this country in the year 2007 makes me think we might as well be in 1930. And it also makes me question every time I've found levity or humor in a situation that's racially charged. If things like this are still happening in this day and age, maybe we haven't come far enough to be able to make jokes. Maybe it really is a big deal that Imus called some girls "nappy headed hoes." I thank God that I've never been put in a situation like that... and at the same time, I'm afraid that if we've regressed this far in 2007, enough progress will not have been made in 2027 that my children won't risk being put in a similar situation.

For more (official) information, go here.

Let's try this again!

One of the downsides to being as ridiculously busy as I am is that I start a lot of things that I don't finish. I love to read. Before I could drive, I would always carry a book around with me-- a sort of security blanket. I lost the leisure of reading for pleasure when I got to college, but I picked it back up last summer when I didn't have a day job and could lay in bed through Regis and Kelly. Now, however, in the wake of having music directed six shows in the past calendar year, I've got books strewn across my condo-- at least 4 or 5 of them half-read and never completed. That being said, my blogging track record is even worse. I started this Baltimore theatre gossip blog with my BFF last February or March seeing as I'm obsessed with gossip bloggers like Perez Hilton and Michael K of Dlisted and consumed by theatre. We did a few really good posts-- we covered a friend's wedding that was attended by the Who's Who of Baltimore theatre, we posted some seething blind items, and we reviewed a few shows. And then we abandoned the poor thing. How a propos that it was named "Get That Theatre Out My Face"-- because that's just what we did: out of sight, out of mind. I went to edit it the other day, and blogger had deleted the poor thing for inactivity. So sad. It's all for the better. I'm trying to not be privy to gossip anymore... unless, of course, it's on Perez and about Lindsay Lohan or Britney Spears.

At any rate, sitting in a Starbucks (generally my electronic home base as the internet signal here is much stronger than at my house) around the corner from my house, enjoying an early day off from work and a night free from rehearsal, I became inspired to start blogging again, and to not fail. Cross your fingers that I don't. This go around, I'll just talk about those things that consume my life daily: work in "corporate America" whilst yearning for the day when I can work in non-profit for something I'm passionate about, trying to build an empire in Baltimore theatre since I'm tied down here at the moment, and the surreal moments that I spend with the loves of my life.

This past weekend was quite celebratory. Stephen, my other half, threw a rockin' surprise 30th birthday party for his big brother J at this adorable Turkish restaurant in lower Mount Vernon, the Cazbar. A friend threw herself a birthday party here a few weeks ago, and that's how we found out about it. Stephen decided to forego the bellydancer this time around (which is probably for the better as she was a little on the washed up side), but the kabobs and hummus were both stellar. It's really a fun place to have a party, and I can't wait to eat upstairs, where the tables all look very intimate tucked behind curtains and in nooks carved out in the structure of the restaurant.

Saturday, we were on to two other birthday celebrations. My friend Erin had a small gathering (which is hard to do quietly anywhere on a Saturday night in downtown Baltimore) at Max's On Broadway. Max's is a beer lover's paradise, as it has like a hundred different brews on draught. Any place that serves Resurrection is a friend of mine. I also like that Max's is brighter than The Brewer's Art's basement... which has tons of seating, but is always too smoky, loud, and crowded. While it was definitely booming at Max's, we found a nook for about 15 or 20 on the second floor, which is a spacious cigar-smoking room (with Smoke-eeters... so even though some people were smoking cigs, and I saw a cigar smoker or two, it wasn't smelly, and I didn't leave reaking of smoke like I usually leave a bar on a Saturday night).

We left Max's after maybe 45 minutes and drove to Mick O'Sheas to celebrate Jacob's birthday. Jacob's a close childhood friend of Stephen's that holds a special place in my cold, black heart. There was a $3 cover charge for the band (which was loud, and not Irish... one of Stephen's prime complaints). The kitchen was still open (some point after 11:00.... I didn't really note the time), though, and they serve Resurrection, too, so I was a happy girl. I've clearly gotten spoiled by my weekly Wednesday night spot, Slainte, where anywhere from 5 to 30 of our closest friends come to take over the second floor of the pub every week and sing negro spirituals (no joke... we're obnoxious). One of Slainte's claims to authenticity is that it was built in Ireland and shipped over to Baltimore by boat. I'm not sure if that's myth or truth, but it definitely feels like it. I love sitting in the opulence that is the red-veloured banquettes at the tables of darkly-stained wood and wrought-iron. Mick O'Sheas totally lacks that. There are corky ceiling tiles and pretty ordinairy decor. The only thing that tips you off that the place is "Irish-themed" other than the name is a few flags hanging from the ceiling and a few shamrocks painted in murals on the wall. I would suggest going there on Monday nights if you're poor. They host a Monday special: $5 for a 1/2 pound burger, plate of fries, and a pint. Cheap date and always fun. Other than that, I really have no interest in going there... especially after having my sound polluted by the loudness that was the random garage band.

At any rate (almost done, I promise!), Sunday early afternoon, we brunched. Brunch is, by far, my favorite meal of life. If I could sleep til 10 or 11 everyday, eat my one-and-only meal at 1:30, wash it down with a mimosa, and then go watch a football game before falling asleep early, I would need nothing else out of life. My friends and I keep saying that we're going to go, but between most of us having church jobs and/or Sunday matinees, it's usually an impossibility. After months of saying, "We should go to brunch," I finally just put my foot down and made a Facebook invite, figuring whomever could come would and whoever couldn't would deal with it. I picked Hampden's Golden West Cafe, located right on the avenue. I think I'd been there once for lunch before and really liked it, maybe? Hampden in general excites me. The Avenue (as 36th street has been deemed) is bustling with independently-owned boutique shops, vintage dealers, art galleries, and unique eateries. Golden West is one of them-- boasting Southwest-infused cuisine, courteous and attentive wait staff, and banging signature cocktails. The brunch was delicious, a la carte (which I love, because buffets generally make me queasy), and a nice change from scenery. Being stuck in Catonsville for rehearsals and shows, we're usually subjected to... ummm... Applebee's, which I'm not even going to bother to hyperlink, because I don't suggest that anyone ever go there unless they have to. It was such a beautiful day outside... so we strolled down the Avenue to my favoritest of favorite Hampden shops, Minas, so that I could introduce my loves to it's fabulousness. Being that I've spent too much money this weekend, I abstained from making any purchases. One of my friends bought a really cute and loud Kenneth Cole shirt for like $20, some great prints for his new apartment, and some other fun things. My sister loaded up, too... and they even have a basket of free stuff to give away to kids that come in, which kept my niece entertained for a few minutes. Ever customer gets a free book of their choice... books are stacked on a shelf as you exit the shop. This place has a fun smattering of vintage clothes, accessories, jewelry, hand-screened t-shirts by local Baltimore artists, books, 'zines, and fine artwork. They also have workshops and speakers upstairs in their gallery space.

At any rate, wow.... yeah, I'm not usually this long-winded. It was a full weekend, though. I didn't even bring up the African-American Heritage Festival in Towson that took up my entire Saturday because, well, I still haven't fully recovered from it. If I feel like it, I'll recount my experience later. It's filled with soapbox rantings about "my people," and how self-oppressive we can be. Yeah, you don't really want to read that nonsense, do you? At any rate, check out some of the places I went this weekend. They're all worth a visit, and one of them might turn out to be your favorite new spot. And hopefully, I'll keep the blogging up.