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And that is a real question, I would like some insight into. I was reading Mediatakeout when I came across this post:

The nation's second-largest Indian tribe formally booted from membership thousands of descendants of black slaves who were brought to Oklahoma more than 170 years ago by Native American owners. The Cherokee nation voted after the Civil War to admit the slave descendants to the tribe.

But on Monday, the Cherokee nation Supreme Court ruled that a 2007 tribal decision to kick the so-called "Freedmen" out of the tribe was proper.

The controversy stems from a footnote in the brutal history of U.S. treatment of Native Americans. When many Indians were forced to move to what later became Oklahoma from the eastern U.S. in 1838, some who had owned plantations in the South brought along their slaves.

Wait, What!?!

Let me begin on what I do know about relationship between Native American and African during slavery: First, both were oppressed people, who were driven/captured from their homelands by mostly Europeans. In the early days of slavery, indigenous peoples of the Americas and Africans were enslaved together. Those who escaped slavery, found themselves welcomed in the Seminoles tribe, which had refused to give them up when whites came demanding the return of fugitive slaves. There were regular intermingling between Native Americans and Africans, which is why today, there are large numbers of black Americans of Native American ancestry.

Now, what I didn't know: There were actually Native American tribes, which partook in the enslavement of Blacks in America?   Needless to say that this article has sparked my interest in the topic and I certainly have some reading and research to do.  Besides the history, I am most curious of this decision by the Cherokee tribe, particularly their treatment of their Black slaves (if true) and what this expulsion means in terms of reparations to the Blacks to which they once, possibly, owned.

Got any insight to this?  Reading suggestions will be very much appreciated.
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So, I was at my neighborhood Aldi's supermarket (which I like to call Trader Joes cheap) when I saw a new display for Greek Yogurt. I had heard of it before from friends and even seen it listed on a couple of menus at restaurants. But I never had the desire to experiment with it.  Feeling ambitious, I decided to purchase a cup and hope for the best.

Two days later, I'm sitting at my desk, reading emails and eating the yogurt.  Let's just say that it was different. Kind of a chalky and definitely sour. I wasn't quite sure if I liked it or not. So the next time I was at Aldi's, I got four more cups.  That was two weeks ago and now I am addicted to the stuff.

From The Atlantic:

American tastes are too complex to diagnose conclusively, but analysts think the ascendance of Greek yogurt is a case of conspicuous consumption (literally) led by women in the workplace. One theory holds that rich old women in affluent coastal cities are leading the trend that's making Greek yogurt an aspirational product -- So foreign! So classy! -- even if the health benefits are dubious:

The rise of Greek yogurt in the U.S. reflects a larger change in the American culinary consciousness: a desire for foods that are considered purer, simpler, and more natural--in other words, not yogurts purporting to taste like key lime pie or strawberry cheesecake.
I want to suggest another idea. The opposite idea. Perhaps people are buying Greek yogurt, not despite the fact that it's expensive compared to yogurts, but because it's cheap compared to similarly filling foods. The taste of Greek yogurt is thick, like scooping avocado out of its skin. Sometimes I eat it for breakfast. I couldn't eat fruit-on-the-bottom Dannon yogurt for breakfast, because that stuff can have the consistency of melted ice cream and after I eat a cup, I feel like I've had a big glass of water, not a snack.

So here's a corollary to the conspicuous consumption theory. I don't doubt that many people eat Greek yogurt to feel, and project, a sense of cosmopolitanism. But I wonder if other middle-to-upper-middle class people fell for Greek yogurt as a cheaper solution for breakfast or a big snack, rather than an expensive solution for yogurt."

I tend to agree with the author.  While hearing about the yogurt definitely sparked my curiosity, it wasn't necessarily the reason for trying it. After weeks of eating the traditional fruit-on-the-bottom cups, I really wanted something new and different than what I had already been accustomed to. Likewise, if it wasn't on sale at Aldi's, I probably wouldn't have taken the risk, no matter how many bougie folks sang its' praises.

Now, if someone could just explain the sudden rise in the popularity of avocados. 
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Today, I survived the Great East Coast Earthquake of 2011.  Plus I got a chance to go home from work early. So overall, not a bad day.

However, after the trembling had stopped and my nerves relaxed a bit, I wanted to check around to family and friends to see how everyone else had fared. Only problem was, I couldn't get a damn signal on my cellphone.

Luckily (and ironically), Facebook and Twitter were both working. So I asked folks online if they too were experiencing trouble dialing out or receiving incoming calls.  Just about everyone, who commented, said that they were.

Great, the wireless phone lines are either down or experiencing heavy call volume, which means if this had been something more catastrophic, you would probably be shit out of luck. Sure they work good for individual emergencies like car accidents or bear attacks but for a major event like another 911 or the great East Coast earthquake of 2011, it is best to have a land line somewhere nearby. Or at least Facebook.

Below is a pictorial of how the four major cellphone carriers fared.
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Meanwhile all the shit they tell you, you're suppose to do in event of an earthquake, totally went out the window.  I was in the office when the quake happened and started shaking the building.  I grabbed my purse, my car keys and my cellphone and got the hell out of that office - early. *Shrug* 
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Now that I reflect on it more, the choices of King's facial expression does seem a bit off track to me. It was said that King was an energetic, warm person, know for his off-color humor.  I don't that represented in this statue.  In fact, there is no energy or warmth or immediacy in the work. Not to mention that the lack of detail at the bottom of the statue, where his legs are suppose to be, is pretty disarming. 
Here is a comment from TJ, who wrote on the first post about the memorial:

"Didn't you see the Boondocks, King was pissed the way things turned out! Thats why he has the "Joe Clark, i'm the HNIC w/ a baseball bat" look going. And i guess the rocks are the mountaintop? (Apparently he doesn't like what he sees from there now)."

I totally remember that episode of the Boondocks. In fact, it is one of my favorites. I remember he was very angry at the state of modern-day Black America and had resolve to move to Canada. I also remember how pumped his was about the McRib sandwich. God, I loved that episode. 

Anyway, TJ brings up an interesting point: perhaps the message is that, like the statue,  King's dream of equality and the end to imperialism, is not quite finished. No one can argue (okay, some could but they argue over anything) that as a nation, we have a bunch of work still left to do.  It's no wonder Kings apart from his broken mountaintop, scowling at what he sees as a  deeply fractured and dysfunctional country, both by race and economic lines.  I mean you can probably walk a few blocks away from the nation's capital to see first hand how the poor struggle immensely in substandard housings, inadequate schools and with unemployment and racism. And throughout the country, record numbers are receiving public assistance while the number of children living below the poverty line, has jumped to levels not experienced since the era of King.  In some ways, this monument is like a back-handed compliment of who we are.  We have made progress enough to elect a Black president but haven't been progressive enough to act beyond symbols of our collective growth.

Of course, that is my theory.  I'm sure the artist had his own vision.

A lot has been written about the Lei Yixin, the Chinese master sculptor who produce the monument. Mainly about what some are calling the "outsourcing" out the work to China. And then there are some, who believe that an African American artist should have been picked for such an important project. I find that discussion interesting too.  Admittedly, I haven't been following this story. But once I finished reading, I post more on it.
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(hat tip to Tyrone)

Remember the English riots from a week ago?  And remember in the aftermath when the elite were scratching their heads trying to find justification for why it happen - except the obvious?  And remember when David Starkey, a so-called historian, got on the Telly (English word for T.V.) and made comments to the BBC  that  the"Whites Have become Black?"

Well, here is a pitch-perfect smackdown from Nabil Abdul-Rashid, a comedian hailing from across the pond.  I have never heard of him before seeing this video.  And nothing he says is actual funny.  But he is real and dead-on in his critique of what Starkey, and others like him, have chosen to so casually gloss over.
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picture stolen from Gawker, who probably stole it from some other site

Oh, that's Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. (I kid the King)

I haven't seen the Martin Luther King's Memorial in person but from the pictures of it, I'm not quite sure if I understand all the nuances of the imagery.  Right now it just looks like a very pissed off Dr. King ready to get in someone's ass with a rolled up newspaper. Plus, what is with the rocks in the background? Why does it look half-finished? And couldn't we get the man a seat?

If you could provide some insight into the symbolism behind his monument, let me know in the comment section. In the meantime, I'm about to do some reading on the artist and his inspiration for the memorial.  
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Vogue Italia, is back again with their fashion-backwards take on hoop earrings or as they call them: Slave earrings:

"Jewellery has always flirted with circular shapes, especially for use in making earrings. The most classic models are the slave and creole styles in gold hoops.

If the name brings to the mind the decorative traditions of the women of colour who were brought to the southern Unites States during the slave trade, the latest interpretation is pure freedom. Colored stones, symbolic pendants and multiple spheres. And the evolution goes on."

Anna Bassi, Vogue Gioiello n. 109, March 2010


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I swear, this magazine is a never ending facepalm. If you thought that Vogue Italia couldn't get any worse, I got breaking news for you. No seriously. I got a scoop from a friend of a friend, who happens to know the cousin-brother-sister-uncle of the guy, who mops the floors late night at the magazine's main office. Yes he is Black. And no he is not a slave. But while rummaging through the desk...er...I mean, emptying the trashcans around the desk of Giovanna Battaglia, fashion editor for Vogue Italia, he happened to come across a company memo, which lays out in detail other trends in fashion, which Vogue will be featuring in upcoming issues.  

So in the interest of keeping you abreast in all that is white entitlement-chic, I present to you Vogue Italia's top five fashion swank, as told to me by the cousin-brother-sister-uncle of the guy, who mops the floors late night at the magazine's main office:
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Last Thursday, I had been alerted to the likeliness that I, quite possibly, have an attitude problem.

What? A black women with an attitude? How original.

Well, the person telling me this was another black woman. And adding insult to injury, the black woman was actually my boss, who decided to drop this bit of "constructive criticism" on me after a meeting.  Then she offered to help me solve this "problem." Eye roll. I'm not the one with the problem.

I didn't appreciate that at all for two reasons: First, how she came to this conclusion and secondly, where she got the information from.  I'm not going to go into too much detail because saying too much might get me trouble. And times are too tough to be fired over bullshit.  But I will say that I work my ass off at my job. Not only do I put in long and very strange hours but also a lot of mental and spiritual energy I exert to find new ways to get people to work together for the good of their community - even when it feels that they fight me along with way.  If anyone has ever dealt with the public, such as I have to daily, you understand that it takes a lot to keep from going off on someone.  And despite her estimation of my supposed inability to control my temper, I think I do a pretty good job of managing what can often be a stressful situation.

Anyway, I was pretty bummed about that discussion and I had contemplated going into work the next day and showing them what a bad attitude is really about.  But what would that accomplish other than playing right into misconceptions about who I am. I also thought about quitting but again, it would be like conceding to her belief that I can't control my emotions. But by late Saturday evening I began to cool off a bit, especially after I burnt off the negative energy doing housework. And I after some reflection, I began to appreciate her words and thoughts of me.  Not because I thought that she was right but rather how the conversation just reaffirmed and put to rest anxieties and insecurities I had about myself for years.

She is not the first person to suggest ways in which I could alter myself in some shape, form or fashion to meet their liking.  There have been times when folks have labeled me too fat, to which I went to great trouble to lose a bunch of weight including starving myself. I was thin but I had dark circles around my eyes and my hair was also falling out in clumps. Then there was the time when I was told that I acted too smart, so I spent a year playing stupid and clueless - often to my own detriment. Some of the other labels I have endured over the years includes: too ghetto, too bougie, too quiet, too loud, too, too, too....At each point, these labels threaten to tear and ripe at the fiber of my being. And at each time, the consequences of those forced alterations did a number on my mental health and well-being. And that is just something that I can no longer risk.

I'm not against reexamining yourself and fine-tuning things in your life which you feel are wrong. But what I am oppose to is changing and rearranging yourself to fit the needs, purpose and/or agenda of people, who really don't give a rat-ass about the real you.  I spent all weekend listening to my own self talk and my self told me that there is nothing wrong with me. My self told me to take ownership every part of myself including my flaws and my imperfections. Those flaws, imperfections and mistakes are a part of the reason why you had been able to bounce back and stand tall in the face of adversity.  And you know what? I decided to heed the words of myself over everyone else opinion. And I for the first time in a while I felt both empowered and comfortable in my own skin.

So today, I came back to work and picked up right where I left off.  No changes, no alterations, just content on doing what I've known has worked for me in the past and will continue to work for me in the future. In the words of Marilyn Monroe (or at least that is how it has been attributed online): "I'm selfish, impatient and a little insecure. I make mistakes, I am out of control and at times hard to handle. But if you can't handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best."  Yeah I may have an attitude sometimes but I also have a huge heart. And those two combine are my Yin and Yang, which gets me out the bed every morning and keeps me working late for the good of the organization and the community. 

Don't get me wrong, I like my job and I like the people I work with.  But I like myself more.  And if I have to choose between the two: I choose me.
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Old-school meat grinder
So, today I decided to make a Shepherd's Pie.  Why?  Well, because I was watching Kitchen Nightmares and saw Gordon Ramsey make one from scratch, so I said, "what the heck. Why not?"Anyway, the recipe I found online called for ground lamb, which sounds delicious but I don't know the first place to go to get ground lamb.  It's not like the supermarkets around here carry it.  Believe me I checked several. While they had plenty of ground pork, beef and turkey; nada to ground lamb.  And I guess I could have substituted but both Ramsey and the online recipe I'm using said ground lamb.  And who don't want to cook like Gordon Ramsey?

Well, while I was in the supermarket, mulling over my options in the meat section, I remembered that I had a meat grinder.  No seriously, I do.  A very old - or as my hipster friends like to call vintage - steel grinder that you have to crank with your hands. It was something I found in my house years ago.  I think it belongs to one of my great-aunts or perhaps an Amish person or something.  Anyway, I decided that if I could buy ground lamb, I would do the very best, next thing and grind it myself.  Sounds like a good idea, right?  Actually no.

Maayynnnee, grinding meat is no joke. Seriously my right bicep is on fire right now.  I was cranking and sweating so much that I had to stop, go upstairs and change into some workout clothes. Of course, I didn't [think to] use lean meat so the fat kept getting caught in the wheel and I had to stop every few seconds to cut it out. It was certainly a relationship with animal meat I wished not to ever partake in again. But that wasn't the worst part: so I was cranking away, trying to push the meat through the little holes when a big piece got stuck in the wheel. Normal people would have probably tried to fish it out before proceeding on.  But then again, normal people wouldn't try to grind their own meat neither. So anyway, instead of doing what normal folks would do, I decided to use all my strength - or whatever I had left - to crank the wheel around. I lean into the wheel, grunting, pushing and sweating. Then it happened. The piece of meat popped and a some lamb juice squirted out of the feeder part and right into my eyeball. I'm pretty sure I got E coli of the eye now.

Now I'm sitting here, applying and reapplying Visine, trying to do my best not to turn into a zombie monster.  Not to mention that I totally broke two nails, which I am totally pissed about. And I'm tired, which means that the Shepherd's Pie will have to wait for another day. I think I will just eat a sandwich tonight - or brains.

Oh yeah, fuck you Gordon Ramsey.
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