It Ain't Truth If It Doesn't Hurt

My Friend Andrea...

So...in my last blog I committed a great and grave sin...I forgot to put Andrea Nordick, Kandace Creel, and Homely Dog in my list of people that I want in my big old marriage souffle.

So, in order to atone for my temporary alzheimers...I am writing a blog all about my friend Andrea. Now...lemme see...the first time I met Andrea Nordick, I was sitting on my front stoop...watching the MayDay Parade at Powderhorn Park. At the time I was working for YouthLink, and I had made a good pal and lunch buddy one Miss Lindsey Selvig. At the time...Miss Lindsey was dating one Andrea Nordick. We won't talk too much about their adventures in love land. The day I met Andrea...she kind of looked at me...smiled...and then stared intently at the life size paper mache crickets with children inside of them that were making their way down the street. You have to see this parade to believe it folks.

I really didn't see Andrea for the next couple of months following our brief introduction...but as fate would have it...my galpal negress extraordinaire Miss Quiana "High Kick" Perkins recruited both Andrea and I to be adult group leaders for a kick butt summer program called Unity Summer. It wasn't long before Andrea and I were yucking it up at the UU church trying our hardest to distract Quiana while she was trying to impart important lessons about changing the world to the youth in her summer program. More than once Andrea and I were close to complete annihilation...but we managed to survive Quiana's wrath.

After the end of Unity Summer, Andrea did a little disappearing trip from my life. Things with Lindsey had gone the way of yogurt in a heatwave...not pretty...not pretty. For a time there...it looked as if Andrea and I had parted ways forever...but the Fates had other ideas in mind. At some point after Unity Summer, Andrea had taken a job with those people I like to call the little bitches in green...better known as the Girl Scouts. In August 2004, I got an email at YouthLink from Andrea encouraging me to apply for a job at the Girl Scouts...I did...I got it...I hated it...but that's not part of this story. It was during my time at the Girl Scouts that Miss Nordick and I laid the foundation for what is now a fantasmic friendship. Something about Quang's spring rolls and meatballs on a skewer...it just brings people together.

Over the last year...Andrea has been one of the most supportive, most loving (in her own twisted and diabolical sort of way), most open people in my life. Andrea is brilliant...and part of her brilliance is that she isn't afraid to ask questions. And when I say that I want you to understand that she will ask questions about issues...particularly issues of oppression...that most white people wouldn't go near. She does it in a way that is respectful and about personal learning and growth. She has become one of my closest friends, and I value her presence in my life. Love you Andrea Nordick...now get off my back about the dang blog entry. You got one all to your lonesome ;-).

Why Can't We All Get Married...

I've written before concerning my feelings on the subject of same-sex marriage. Basically I think its a bunch of hoo-haw divisivity designed by the religious right to keep our eyes tuned into Fox News and turned away from the truly heinous shit going on up at the Capitol in DC. By playing into the hands of the religious right and fuel to the fire what should have been a no-brainer (hell yeah...let the queers get married...the divorce lawyers need more clients)...has now become a multi-million dollar advertising and campaign behemoth making PR firms on both sides of ideological divide pretty damn wealthy.

But here's my real question...why can't we all get married. And by all of us, I mean all of us. My ideal marriage would consist of the following people: Nicole Zajkoswki, Dawn Anderson, Cathy Womack, Peter and Debbie Mikelson, Kristina Streed, Hayley Schwenson, Quiana Perkins, Melanie Meegan, Ben Plimpton, RJ Thompson, Coya Artichoker, Nikki Kubista, Jerry and Erin Jones, Sara Leedom, Jeremy Rye, Jesus Urbina, Jose Ramirez, Monie Trujillo, Rasheda Kilpatrick, Chris Johnson, Munkis, Susan Raffo, Rocki Simoes, Maria Garcia, Liz Diaz, Debanuj Das Gupta, Russell Roybal, Christopher Ramirez, Joe Jimenez and the Rock...and that would just be for the first wedding. Now...I don't have lustful cravings for these people...well...except the Rock...but these are just a few of the people that I love so much that I want some sort of legally binding relationship that says...when I die you get my stuff (Or I get your stuff...I want Sara's dining room table)...you love me so you can make decisions about what happens to me if I get sick...you can visit me in the hospital...you are a citizen wherever the hell I am a citizen...and if you try and skip town, fall off the face of the earth, or run away to Brazil...I have a legal right to have you hunted down and drug back by your hair/bald pate/microweave (that one is for Rasheda---don't let the Korean hair fool you!).

I mean...really...if we are talking about relationships that work, are meaningful, and are long lasting...let's just look at the Scooby Gang...the least amount of time any of us has been friends is ten years...most of  us go back fourteen years, and some of them fools are pushing sixteen years or more. Most of our parents didn't make it for sixteen years. Nicole and I have been friends for fourteen years, Jerry and I have been friends for eleven years, hell Jose and I have been friends for six years...I challenge ya'll to name for me more than three sets of couples you know...between the age of 25-30 that have been together anywhere near that amount of time...heck...name me two to three couples you know of any age that have been together, successfully, for sixteen years. I bet you're hard put to do so.

If I had my wish...one day when I strike it rich...I'm going to buy Tyler Perry's big ass house in Atlanta,  and I am going to get as many of my friends to move in with me as humanly possible. I know we might up and break into spontaneous warfare...the west wing of the house might plan to shock and awe the east wing of the house...and the kids might pull a Children of the Corn moment...but hey...that's living. In the United States we are taught from the gate that we have no one but ourselves to rely on and that is just plain caca doo doo. I have a whole helluva lot of people that I get to rely on and that get to rely on me on occassion...when I don't have something better to do...like American Idol...I don't care if you're dying...had a three-headed baby...or your left nipple just up and fell off in the middle of dinner...don't call me during American Idol...you'll meet Simon Cowell's more evil twin...ya'll didn't know I was British huh?

For real...if we are going to take about relationships that work...if we want to talk about supporting familial institutions that will provide stability, love, caring, and nurturing for families...then lets look at the networks of families that are already working...why force an artificial nuclear configuration that has only been around for a century or so...let's bring back some really tribal, in the African bush outback didjeridoo playin' type shit. Let's look at the interpersonal relationships that have sustained themselves through mutual appreciation, committment, support, love, fidelity, and all those other characteristics we define as a good marriage...we are wedding our lives to one another all the time in so many different valid combinations...why shouldn't all of those familial incarnations be just as equally valid...it doesn't matter who is having sex with whom or if no one is having sex at all...marriage isn't about sex and procreation no matter what Oral Roberts would have you believe (but it isn't a surprise that a man named Oral would be fixated on sex)....marriage is about the joining of communities...forging bonds that will sustain healthy relationships across time and provide support for whatever life or Bush throws at us next.

To All Baby's Mamas...

This morning...as I made pretty for work...I plopped in Fantasia's debut CD and quickly skipped ahead to my favorite song...Baby Mama. Now...I believe Fantasia wrote this song herself, and I'm sure you are all surprised to find out that the song was not nominated for  Grammy. But the sentiment behind the song should be.

Now, I remember watching Fantasia during her quest to become the new American Idol. I voted for her...lots. I remember one episode where it was either a guest judge or someone from the audience or some other yahooo that told her that because she was a teen mom she didn't deserve to be an American Idol. I just about reached into the TV and destroyed the soul of the person speaking. Since when did the age at which one has a child determine anything about that persons character except that she had a child early in life. For all you know, she wanted to get a head start on headstart. So shut it.

I am the proud product of a single mother. My Mom was married off and on for the first ten years or so of my life...but she raised my brother and me pretty much on her own. She worked two jobs almost all the time, and she was still at home at night in time to cook us dinner. As I've gotten older that part has really started to trip me out a little. I don't know how the hell she managed to work eight hours at Target...come home...cook up some fried chicken, mashed potatos, green beans, and a pitcher of kool aid and then still make it over to the deli at the grocery story to work another three or four hours. That's voodoo right there is what that is. My Mom used to make miracles out of egg noodles and a little garlic salt...and although we never had a Christmas tree bursting with presents...the few presents we received were always the ones that we wanted the most. I can't tell you how many times my Mom opened up her retirement savings account just so my brother and I could have a few gifts come Christmas morning. That piddly 401K is supposed to be what carries Mom through her later years...and I know for probably the first 10 years that she had the account she never made it a full year without taking out the entire balance. 

My Mom will never be confused with a saint. Her language is much too colorful. She's too damn country. Half the time she thinks she's black. And Saints are boring. Really. But my Mom has a heart as big as Lake Superior and is so wicked the Devil once hired her as a consultant. Not kidding. Couldn't get the smell of brimestone of out of the house for days. Sometimes she still chases me around her house with the pitchfork El Diablo gave her. She thinks that shit is funny. But she's my Mom and ain't nobody better say nothin' about her. Cuz I'll cut 'em for sure.

I know some amazing single parents in the world. Gigi, Larry, Theresa, Michelle, Krista, and more...that are doing their thing...living their lives...and raising their children with love and affection. Fantasia says that she thinks there should be a national holiday to celebrate single mothers...and I agree. Babys Mamas and Babys Daddys that are doing right by their children, making sacrifices so that their children will grow up with all the tools they need to live well, and doing what needs to be done to make ends meet...deserve to be honored...they are the true soldiers and veterans...entering the economic jungle everyday and doing it out of love...love for those babies...who don't care whether they have one mama or two mamas only that their mamas love 'em. Like I love my Mama.

Death of a King...

The civil rights movement has had a double blow in a short period of time...first with the loss of Miss Rosa Parks...who is now riding in style on one of those Casino style buses up in Heaven...right up front next to the driver...and last night we lost Coretta Scott King.

Unfortunately, since history starts with HIS and ends with STORY...the stories of woman, particularly women of color are lost, truncated, or subsumed into the histories of their husbands. I can't think of anyone that this has more tragically happened to then Coretta Scott King. Dr. Martin Luther King was a great man, but his wife was an amazing woman in her own right separate from her relationship to Dr. King.  I'll be the first to admit that I am as guilty as the next man for not taking time to learn about the breadth and depth of Mrs. King's work.  Today was the first day that I read even the shortest biography of her contributions to the fields of racial justice, economic justice, freedom of sexuality, anti-apartheid work, gender liberation, and so much much much more. If they don't lay out Coretta Scott King in the Capitol Rotunda...I hope the black people of Washington D.C. set fire to the White House and use the Capitol steps as a public outhouse.

Mrs. King was in all ways Dr. King's partner.  Even when Dr. King preferred that she play the role of dutiful wife...Coretta Scott wasn't having any of it. She was right there...outfront...doing what she felt was right and just for the liberation of her people. She was a leader in putting gender on the agenda of the civil rights movement, and she had her own vision of just world that not only theoretically included all oppressed peoples but explicitly did so in a way that other leaders from the 60s never articulated. Mrs. Scott King was very clear in her analysis of institutional oppression and its internationalization. The woman was a visionary.

We have lost a great woman today, but as my friend Lupe said...we've gained a new spiritual warrior that will continue to fight for us and protect us in another place and in another way. I'm sure the "leaders" of the country will have nothing but pretty words and high praise for Coretta Scott King...the ironic thing being that she dedicated her life to pulling down the institutions that they so lovingly endorse. The right has a way of trying to co-opt, wash down, and de-claw our leaders and all for which they stood and fought. But I walk into this day knowing that Coretta Scott King, Rosa Parks, and every other woman that fought for justice and liberty in this nation will never become pale meaningless symbols of the wealthy and the powerful...they have become powerfully ingrained in the minds and spirits of all their relatives...and all their relatives are those of us that remember them, honor them, and continue the legacy that they  have left for us. Rest easy Coretta. You've earned it.

Speaking In Tongues...

So last night I was having a conversation with my friend Gerardo about speaking in tongues...we were "watching" the movie The Gospel, and it seemed an appropriate subject matter. Well...after the movie...the best massage I've ever gotten...and various and other interactive moments...Gerardo went home to take care of his ailing Mother (what a good boy...I'd tell my Mom good luck now get out...American Idol is coming on...and I don't want your respirator interrupting Simon's attempts to utterly destroy that poor Asian tranny's self-esteem).  Well...I know it's one thing to have dreams about things that you have recently seen or heard...it's another thing to wake yourself up three times during the night shouting out loud in tongues.

Oh yeah...now...either my new sleep medication that I started this weekend is having some wacky side effects...or I was revisiting a past life as one of Jesus' disciples during the Pentecost.  Most likely a sly demon has slipped past the crucifix around my neck and is stretching his talons before going at it Linda Blair style. And ya'll know just how crazy she got. The things she did with that cross still make my anus clench up thinking about it. "Your Mother's in here Carus...would you like to leave a message."

There is one thing though, that I would like to clear up with the charismatic pentecostal Christians running to and fro in the world. Subjugating their women to the will of the men. Beating queers and trannies to death. Drowning their children cuz God told them to.  Especially those crazy country ones with their tents, lawn chairs, and faith healers. If some redneck could just touch folks and make 'em better...Blue Cross/Blue Shield would be right out of business. Sorry...got sidetracked there for a second.

Most charismatics seem to believe that tongues is speaking in the language of the angels...so they stand up...roll their eyes back into their heads...and start speaking in pig latin. For anyone that has actually picked up the Bible and took a moment to read just a bit about the Pentecost in the upper room...it says that when the fire came down and alighted on the heads of the disciples they began speaking in many tongues and then rose up and went out into the street to preach the miracle of Christ's reserruction...as Jersusalem was a great city and it was Passover...Jews of many nations were walking in the market when the disciples came to preach and they were astounded to hear the disciples speaking of the miracle of Christ's ressurection in their OWN tongues.

OK...translation for the slow...the gift of speaking in tongues is not a game to see who can freak out the unsuspecting the most through quoting Metallica lyrics backwards...but is instead the divinely given ability to speak in an actual human language that one has never studied and to be able to do so fluently. Now...I'm pretty sure that I wasn't speaking in any human language last night. If I was it was something real crazy...like Euskadi...and really...how is screaming outloud...in the middle of the night...in Albuquerque...going to further God's work on earth. Unless perhaps a wayward Basque took a wrong turn at Viscaya and ended up on Coal Street and needed some reassurance at that moment that God really does care about Euskerra and their fight for freedom from their Spanish oppressors. But that's probably a long shot scenario.

I may never solve the mystery of my night time tongues experience. But if it happens again...I'm calling the Bishop and taking a bath in holy water. That demon will NOT be turning my head all around and backwards. Leaving me with the chiropractor bill for life. If he thinks I'm going to be as easy to control as that white girl...he's got a real shock coming. She was from Georgetown. I'm from the Ghetto. NORTHSIDE!