Nov 15, 2013
“Where were you when you first fell in love with du-rags?” she asked, as we sat in the park people-watching and rehashing last night’s episode of Scandal.
My first du-rag was a family heirloom, handed down from my older brother, who also doubled as my barber.
There it sat on the bathroom counter--a small, mysterious, black mound of silk. I knew nothing of this foreign apparatus, its origin or its purpose.
But the moment when my brother brushed my hair, put the du-rag on my head, and I stood in front of the mirror watching the cape flow gracefully down to my shoulders, I knew that it was the security blanket to my Linus Van Pelt, the wand to my Harry Potter, th- the tuxedo to my Janelle Monae.
I slept in it. Hooped in it. Wore it under hats. Wore it when I read. Wore it when I did yard work. Wore it after a fresh haircut. Wore it when I was in desperate need of a cut. Wore it in public like a purple heart, an Olympic medal.
That. Du-rag. Made. Me. Feel. Invincible.
My collection expanded—white cotton, black satin, camouflage, one’s without the seam down the center, one’s with long strings, one’s with short strings, one’s with two-tones before color-blocking was a *thing*. I had a du-rag for every day of the week, and 2 for Sunday.
I began to notice that the strings of my du-rag left a line across my forehead, so even when I didn’t have it on, it still felt like it was with me, like a guardian angel, y’all. A constant reminder of the inseparable, indescribable bond shared between a Black man and his du-rag.
After wearing the same du-rag for many, many years, and accidentally leaving it home during a recent vacation, I was forced to purchase a new one. Much to my surprise, the cape was sleeker, more refined, more contoured than my first. The stitching was fortified, the silk was silkier. The work of a quality craftsman. It was this new du-rag technology and a suggestion from @Natelege that inspired me to write this post. One day, I’ll pass my du-rag down to my son, and he’ll pass it down to his son, and so forth and so on. Just like the stories of Harriet Tubman and Jackie Robinson, I just felt like the importance of du-rags should be documented in the annals of history.
Oct 24, 2013
|This ain't your Granddaddy's mixtape, jack.|
Back once again,
with the 3rd installment of DHOE playlists, my g's.
It's real simple.
25 current songs.
10 twerk classics
(that I dug out of the undergrad archives).
Only one thing is required to download this and that's...
Cop the 'tape HERE.
**may have to hit reload once you click
Oct 14, 2013
Over the next year, give or take a few months, I will be blogging almost exclusively from me and my fiancee's new blog: Chapel 2 Chapel. Please visit and chop it up with us there!
Until next time, peace!
Oct 10, 2013
Peep Kanye's full interview with Jimmy Kimmel here.
Society tells Black people that they should be more polite and stop pulling the race card when faced with actual racism.
Society tells feminists/womanists that they should be more polite and stop overreacting in the face of patriarchy and misogyny.
Society tells poor people that they should be more polite and “pull themselves up from their bootstraps” in the face of economic inequality.
Society tells the gay community that they should be more polite and just “pray away” their same-sex attraction when faced with homophobia.
People deflect honest engagement with real issues, opting instead for respectability politics—I’ll treat you like a human being deserving of respect and common decency only after you act in a way that’s pleasing to me. The responsibility is always placed on oppressed people to be more amicable, instead of on society to fix their heart and to be more equitable.
Kanye is saying rather plainly in his “rants” something along the lines of “Despite my class privilege, there is still a cap or a ceiling put on my dreams and on what I can accomplish, that would not be placed on any White man in my position.”
And In a roundabout way, society keeps responding to Kanye like this:
You’re rich, despite being Black, shouldn’t you be satisfied? And because there are poor White people in America who actually deserve to be where you are, who are inherently entitled to the wealth and dreams that you have, you should just shut up and be grateful for what you have.
Why is that OK?
And riddle me this. When has Kanye been wrong?!
Was he wrong about Single Ladies, which crashed the internet and TV, playing second fiddle to a Taylor Swift video that I can’t even remember?
Was he wrong about George Bush’s lack of concern for the “least of these”?
Is his criticism about media framing of Black men, namely those in hip-hop off base?
Is his criticism about the racial homogeny in the fashion industry incorrect?
No. No. No. No. And, no. But he’s wrong in his delivery, which trumps the contents of his messages I presume?
I ain’t here to defend Ye’s “narcissism," nor do I think he is some social activist/prodigy. I really ain'eem a fan of his music, bruh. But when people are sharing their grief and anger and pain as a result of their lived experiences, who are we to say, “No. That is wrong.” I think a lot of what he's saying is important because it has far reaching implications for any Black woman or man who dreams, who wants to create, who wants to change things. Black creators and dreamers, ESPECIALLY women, have been stifled, silenced, and stolen from since the beginning of time, from celebrities all the way down to people I know and love. And the world thinks things are better off if they just grin and bear it. Sorry, but that does not compute.
Keep fighting the good fight, Ye.