I Can Only Listen to the New Erykah: Part I

Time: 3:39 pm.
Date: Saturday, March 1st.
Spot: Cafe on Valencia in the Mission. SF,CA

The only thing that has my head sane right now
is the new Erykah. Telephone, My People, Me, The Healer
have been on constant repeat. Oh and the joint
from Mama's Gun, Green Eye's.

Oh, I got some of that new Pete too. That Jim Jones collabo
is by far one of the most grizzliest, soulful joints I have heard
since.....I don't know when. Hip Hop is Dead, maybe. The Black
Album, perhaps?

Remember the I Can't listen to Nas post? Well, I don't think
I would be upright this weekend without Telephone.

Erykah is going so hard on Telephone, Its like she is talking to me.

Sometimes its hard to move/ you see when your growing publicly
But if I have to choose between/ I choose me

Had two babies different dudes/ and for them both my love was true
This is my last interview/ Can't miss me

This year I turn 36/ Damn it seem it came so quick
Ass and legs have gotten thick/ Its so me
-Me New Amerykah 2008

This time last week, I was fielding calls and coordinating
text messages from the Tea Lounge in Brooklyn.

It pains me how personal these post are going to be.

Filthy stays on me about the fact that
when you are honest when you write, the more likley
you can take the reader to another place.

So I press on. The moment my plane landed there was 2 feet of snow on
the ground.

It was a winter wonderland.

The snow symbolized that other things were in store for me.
The trip showed me a couple of things. The first was that
with prayer and asking for help from friends, anything is possible,
anything.

It also confirmed that I would be single, real soon,
whether I wanted to admit it or not, and that hurt.

Today I am.


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Being forced to reconsider your truth is real.

Erykah is underrated.

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72 Hours of New Amerykah: Part II - First I was Malcom, now I'm El Hajj

Last weekend, in BK, I resided with Mean Sexy's sister,
Flybug Starski. We had one of those 4am, in the gristle
conversations. We discussed our paths in life, whether
we where we wanted to be and coping and planning for the future.

It was awkward, painful and necessary. She demonstrated
to me how my people can hold me down if I actually plan
ahead and ask for help.

I met Filthy Dubois in person for the first time and that
sh-t was bugged. You ever been caught off guard by how
easy it is to chill with someone?

I think we had an entire dialog using
Illmatic lyrics. Man. That sh-t had me gone.

Filthy ain't Black. So, I caught some sideways glances from cats
while I was walking with him in Harlem. He was not
phased. I was just like "ay, blood, these dudes are tripping".

But then again, chilling with him, forced me to confront my
own issues of seeing Black men with White women.
White parents with adopted Asian daughters.
My issue with Black men, who get degrees,
and then say that they are not dating Black women
anymore, because we "have too much mouth".

In fact, SJ continually got on me about how careless it is
for me to make sweeping statements about some
white folks, or about any group in particular.
We all human, no?

Clearly, I have a lot to ponder.


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Last week, I wrote on my hand,
"I hate these, I am going to meet my fate moments".

We are entitled to our truth, but that confrontation
process is not what the streets want.

I am really rethinking the racial lens through which I see things.
Like first I was Malcom, now I'm El Hajj.

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"Just like every rapper wants the baddest video chick on his arm, so do AGs."

The Village Voice has an article on how young lesbians agressive's (ag's) embrace hip hop thug paradigm for the purposes of appearing hard.

When you go to the club and you're an AG, your mission that entire night is to find the baddest femme in the club and make her your girl," says another woman, who calls herself Don Vito Corleone. "Just like every rapper wants the baddest video chick on his arm, so do AGs."

I have allways had a problem with the idea of women who embrace women but take on a male persona as the main WAY of appear tough, 'bout it and handling yours.

Rap videos have long provided men of color with milestones on their journeys to manhood. From being a successful street businessman (Notorious B.I.G.'s "Ten Crack Commandments"), to learning how to treat a woman (Dr. Dre's "Bitches Ain't Shit") and protecting their manhood (50 Cent's "What Up Gangsta?"), guys are told how to be indestructible, sexually assertive, and in general, badasses. The misogyny and homophobia implicit in that message has long raised the hackles of critics. Oprah Winfrey and columnist Leonard Pitts Jr. made news recently for saying "enough" to the influence of rap's rougher edges on black culture.

My problem with it is not that they do it, but that that persona is appears to be the only acceptable viable "tough, hooded up persona".


Im sure women can use their imaginations to be tough, fierce and gully in a variety of ways. No?

"These AGs have a disrespectful mentality, and they get it from men, hoodlums, dudes that are in the 'hood all day," says Kysharece Young, an AG, rapper ("Ky Fresh"), and freshman at Monroe College. "They act like a bunch of little damn boys that ain't got no sense."

The issues that face young women face young men as well.

In 2005, filmmaker Daniel Peddle chronicled the lives of AGs in his documentary The Aggressives, following six women who went to lengths like binding their breasts to pass as men. But Peddle says that today, very young lesbians of color in New York are creating a new, insular scene that's largely cut off from the rest of the gay and lesbian community. "A lot of it has to do with this kind of pressure to articulate and express your masculinity within the confines of the hip-hop paradigm," he tells the Voice.

I knew from the tone of the article that the writer, Chloé A. Hilliard, was either brown or had an urban history. Then I found this out about her. She was most recently and editor @ the Source (scroll down, after you click to get her article).

She is hella fresh.

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Cop this at hoodie @ highsnobiety.

Ohhhh. Wu Tang Renunion Doc just came out.
I can't go.

But somebody needs to go and tell me about it.

Dude.

This right here is worth seeing it:

Capturing onstage and off with equal energy — at one point only the inspired freestyling of artists like Redman and MC Supernatural stand between Mr. Weisberg and an all-out riot — “Rock the Bells” is a fascinating glimpse of a dreamer and a music culture that has always depended on dreams.

ROCK THE BELLS

Opens today in Manhattan.

Directed by Casey Suchan and Denis Henry Hennelly; directors of photography, Jeff Bollman and Leif Johnson; music by J. Force; produced by Kurt Dalton and Henry Lowenfels; released by Seventh Art Releasing. At the Two Boots Pioneer Theater, 155 East Third Street, at Avenue A, East Village. Running time: 103 minutes.

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Think imma lay of the posting for a min. Unless.

Um. Unless something de.lic.ious happens.

Baby on the right kinda bad.

I planned on posting this last week.

But I got Imus'd.

On a more curious note. I wonder what the Jesse, Al and Oprah would
think of these women?

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