Showing posts with label Activism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Activism. Show all posts

Friday, June 3, 2016

I'm Actually Gonna Leave My House This Weekend! And Next Week, Too!


I've got the nerve to have things to do this weekend! Apparently, I think I'm grown. You can have the nerve to have some things to do, too! Let's do them together.

On Saturday (that's tomorrow) I'll be reading in the 1:15 pm Poets and Allies set at LitFest Pasadena in the Zona Rosa alley. There will be other amazing poets there as well. If you're in the area, come and see us! Come and say, "Hi". The entire day is FREE and takes place all over the Pasadena Playhouse District. There's even a Octavia Butler  & Afro Futerism presentation at 11 am that sadly I won't be able to go to because my 2 year old has dance class. Bring yourselves out and enjoy!





Also, if you're free on Monday night, I'll be a featured poet at Poets and Allies, which is a reading that also takes place in the lovely city of Pasadena. It starts at 7 pm and is also FREE. It will be taking place at the Sidewalk Cafe which is located at 2057 N. Los Robles, Pasadena CA 91104. I'd love to see your face!





In other, not necessarily poetry related goings ons, you may or may not have heard that Black Lives Matters Activist Jasmine Richards was tried and found guilty of felony lynching. Yeah, you read that right... FELONY LYNCHING. So, here we have a clear case of the criminal justice system being used as a weapon against activists. This is not a new phenomenon, however Jasmine has become the first political prisoner of the Black Lives Matters movement. In an effort to support her and send a clear message to the powers that be regarding the mishandling of the law and false imprisonment of Jasmine Richards, I encourage you to sign this petition and if you're able, attend her sentencing on Tuesday, June 7th in Pasadena (damn, Pasadena is lit!). The hearing will take place at 8 am at 300 E. Walnut Street. The objective is to pack the courthouse.



Also, Tuesday is the Primary, so if you're in California and registered to vote, do yo' thang.

I think that's about it for right now. If I don't see you in the next few days, I certainly hope to in the future. As always, keep up with me on Instagram, Twitter and Facebook. If you haven't already gotten your copy of All My Exes Want Me Back, Uppity Negress, or the classic Five Three and Rising, you can fix that situation at blakisbeautiful.com. Oh, and did you know that you can sign up for my email list? Yeah, shawty! Do the damn thang, right 'chea:





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Alright, be good and take care of yourself!


Tuesday, January 19, 2016

New Year Priorities: 1. Mental, Emotional, and Physical Health


This is something that I don't ever really think about. It is because I consider myself to be very mentally and emotionally healthy, and I'm pretty confident in my physical health as well. I look pretty good and for the most part, I feel good. Of course, we all have our days when the world is heavy, or we're still carrying that grief from that loss, or there's some anxiety or manifestations of stress, for whatever reason. 

I'm a person, not a machine. I'm dealing with things and experiencing a full range of emotion, just like everyone else. That may seem like a statement that merits a "no shit, Sherlock" response, but I think it's important to make that clear. Because, I've created a reputation for myself amongst people that know me well or may not really know much about me at all, that I am, for lack of a better word, a machine. I typically don't show a lot of emotion. For the most part, my shit is always together. I appear to have everything under control and seem unfazed by shenanigans and bullshit. The emotions that I do express are very controlled, never out of hand or volatile. I'm somewhat predictable in that way. Logic rules me. I'm stoic. I inherited that from my Virgo mama and manifest the traits of a Virgo moon. However, I am a person, not a machine.

I remember one time I expressed that my feelings were hurt about something a friend did and their response was, "You're being dramatic." Trust, there was nothing dramatic about how I communicated my disappointment... I simply said, in a very calm and sort of matter of fact way, "Hey, that hurt my feelings." But I realized that, because I, for once, revealed that I have actual feelings, it was a dramatic production. Why? Because, I'd never done that before. It was somewhat out of character. It was "much" and "extra". Had I been someone else, who had had a history of "feels", they wouldn't have batted an eye. That was my doing. I had masked my human-ness with my machine-like nature.

Well, here I am. I feel things, it's true. Everybody, get over it.

I'm actually an empath and I've always been. I can literally, physically feel people's emotions or changes in mood. And I think about others -- like, "How would this make them feel?". I care about people's feelings.

Sometimes I allow my logic to cancel out my own feelings. Actually, most of the time. And then, there are times when my thoughts actually allow me to feel more deeply, especially when it involves another person's pain. I have been overcome with grief, just thinking about someone else -- a complete stranger -- losing someone they love.

The news makes me cry real tears. Racism, sexism, xenophobia, transphobia, and homophobia have physically and emotionally worn me the fuck out. Police brutality and "post racial America" have recast me into a pendulum that swings back and forth between depression and blind rage. I sat at my desk at work, pregnant with Rosie, and cried listening to the George Zimmerman trial. The comments section of online news articles makes me feel homicidal. I'm pretty sure I'm suffering from PTSD.

Sometimes I have to step away from this shit. We all do. But it's hard not to want to expend every drop of energy trying to correct this societal madness. And yet, even if we did wear ourselves down to our bones, our individual efforts alone would not suffice. We have to take turns digging a tunnel out of this prison. You rest while I dig, you dig while I rest, we all take turns and we'll see freedom.

There is this thing called "self care". I don't think I'm so good at it. I work 2 jobs and go to school. I'm typing this at 1:25 am when Lord knows I'm weary. But when else will I get this done? There's literally no time. I have no time for a single thing, much less myself. And when I get too tired, my body gives out.

Somewhere in this year, I need to get a handle on allowing all of the things that I have to do and the beanstalk of a list of things that I want to do that just goes up, up, up into the sky, to come secondary to my overall health. Toxic folk, toxic news, toxic situations, must all be dealt with only when I'm fortified enough to do so and not before. I'm saying, "No," more often than ever, so that's a good first step. I'm being honest about my feelings, even if it makes people uncomfortable, or if it isn't pleasant or if it makes things inconvenient. That's just the hard truth. It is not my intention to hurt or slight anyone. It's just that, I've been entrusted with taking care of me and I think it's important that I do a decent job of it.

So, there's that. Out the gate in a brand new year, my first priority is to put my mental, emotional, and physical health first. I think that if I do that, everything else will fall into place.

Friday, November 28, 2014

My Daughter is Going to Change Everything

My daughter is going to change everything.

Everyday, I read this "To Everything There is a Season" book to her. At her request. It's literally just the scriptures in Ecclesiastes, verbatim -- A time to be born, a time to die... A time to plant, a time to pluck up that which has been planted... A time to mourn, a time to dance... A time to keep silence and a time to speak... Etc. Nothing really mind blowing, no new information. However, this is her favorite book and she's always transfixed.


The illustrations are, for me, what make it great [and allow me to be able to read the same book over and over again, several times a day, without losing my entire mind]. It features art from various time periods, cultures, and countries for each passage. So, for instance, there's a depiction of Egyptian murals done in acrylic paint on three-ply Bristol board, or ink and watercolor on paper depicting Japanese woodblock prints. There's the art of Mexico, Greece, Ethiopia, India, Thailand -- it goes on and on and it's phenomenal. I feel like I'm walking through a museum when I read it. And I love museums.

Anyway, the second to last bit of the book says, "a time of war and a time of peace." The other day, we stopped for a long time on that page and I pointed to everything that was happening on the "war" side and everything that was happening on the "peace side" and I said, "war is bad. Look, they're hurting each other and killing each other. That's not the way it should be. Peace is good. Peace is what we want. See, this is how we should live."

This morning, I read this book to her, perhaps for the thousandth time. When I got to the war and peace page, she sat and stared for a long time. I followed her eyes as she took in every detail, particularly of the "peace" side. The animals, the people, the blue sky, the flowers and trees. She looked and looked and looked. I could see her, thinking. A 14-month-old. In deep concentration. About peace. Then she looked at the "war" side, and though she did take a moment with it, she gave it considerably less attention than "peace".

Then she turned to the final page, which is a big picture of planet Earth with the words, "One generation passes away and another generation comes: but the earth abides forever," underneath. She admired it for a long time. Then she flipped back to the previous page. More attention to "peace". I sat there, observing, careful not to interfere, allowing her to be in the moment. Seriously, this went on for a long time.

Then, finally, she started "reading aloud". My daughter babbled to herself, pointing at and focusing on different details in the "peace" picture. She read, and read, and pontificated, and theorized, and perhaps even prayed. In that moment, I was clear: The greatest honor and blessing that I will ever have is to be her mother. God is with this child. Her ancestors are with her. She gets it all. She understands. She has a purpose. She's here to change everything.

May we all live to see it.

Monday, September 24, 2012

100 Thousand Poets for Change at A Mic and Dim Lights

This Thursday, September 27th at A Mic and Dim Lights in Pomona, I will be performing along with a small but deadly gang of talented poets in 100 Thousand Poets for Change. It's a special night of poetry organized by David A. Romero in conjunction with the grassroots educational organization, 100 Thousand Poets for Change. The organization was originally conceived by Michael Rothenberg and Terri Carrion, as a worldwide set of events to take place either simultaneously or at different points throughout the year. Future plans for the organization involve raising funds to help poetry, music and other arts organizations world-wide organize peace and sustainability events.

The evening promises to be inspirational and memorable, thanks in part to an opening feature set from Mic and Dim Lights founder and host BessKepp and music provided by in house DJ, JB. I'm excited to be a part of this event and stand in solidarity with a diverse group of poets around the world, gathered to promote serious social, environmental, and political change. I hope you'll join us.


A Mic and Dim Lights Presents 100 Thousand Poets for Change
300 W. Second St. 
Pomona, CA 91766
Thursday Sept. 27, 2012
9pm
$3



Thursday, September 22, 2011

Why Cutting Up is NECESSARY





I have so much things to say right now. And when I have "so much things to say", I intentionally try to keep it brief and manageable, or else, we'll both be here all day. By now, I'm sure you've heard all about the Troy Davis tragedy. Yesterday, justice was not served, in fact, the United States' criminal justice system continued it's campaign of victimizing and terrorizing citizens. This is literally like a terrible nightmare and this morning when I opened my eyes, I was sad that I hadn't successfully awakened from it. I sincerely feel trapped within the borders of this country. I feel abused by it. I just want to run away. I honestly feel like I can't live here anymore.

Where am I gonna go? I have absolutely no clue. Because the truth is that though The United States of America is brutal, ugly, murderous, wicked, and unjust, it is not the only country that gets down like that. The United States' behavior is just a reflection of the people that live in it and run it. And since people are people everywhere you go, I'm afraid I will not be able to outrun human nature.

I am often perplexed by our attitude toward and treatment of others. Why do we hate and kill each other? From the time I was a young child and able to have real, cohesive, logical thoughts, I've racked my brain trying to understand humankind's predisposition to malice, and I have not yet been able to figure it out. We mostly act like wild animals.

My feelings on the Death Penalty have vacillated over the years between support of the concept (ridding society of "evil", reserving resources for those among us who don't commit heinous crimes, "making things right", "bringing peace to the victim's family") and believing that there's no place in our judicial system for such an archaic practice. Throughout my adult life, as I've matured and learned more about the history of my people and the history of this country, I've steadily moved away from supporting even the concept of "an eye for an eye"; not because I'm some super peaceful, new age, yoga mat toting, liberal, artist, but because, in a country where institutionalized racism is, as I type this, digging it's roots deeper into all facets of our social structure, and corruption is common place, there is no possible way that a person of color or of a lower socio-economic class can truly, fairly be tried for any crime and sentenced properly. If a fair trial by a jury of your peers cannot be had, then the option of capital punishment should not exist. It is dangerous. Innocent people will inevitably die.

I do not know if Troy Davis committed the crime that he was executed for. I wasn't there. He says he didn't. There was no real evidence to say that he did and no reliable witnesses. In the years since the trial, most of the witnesses recanted their statements. More than one witness said that they were bullied by the police into incriminating Troy Davis in the murder of Officer McPhail. More than one juror on the trial basically said that knowing what they know now, they would have never found Troy Davis guilty. There was entirely too much doubt to execute this man. And yet, that's exactly what happened.

Now, I'm always slow to shout, "RACISM" whenever something dumb happens. However, sadly, in this case, I must. Because, how is it that after all of this non-evidence was presented and these shady witnesses were cross examined, and the jury, eager to return to their regularly scheduled lives found Troy Davis guilty, did the presiding judge actually get it into his legally professional, logical mind to sentence him to death? If no one in the courtroom has an ounce of sense, at the very least, wouldn't a judge? This leads me to believe that there were other factors that influenced the judge's decision. I suspect that other factor may have been Troy Davis' color.

Then I read about a case just three years ago in which a white man was sentenced to death in Georgia after shooting an individual three times, beating them with a crow bar and a can of paint. He admitted that he did it, probably did the Harlem Shake while confessing, and then managed to have his execution halted 3 hours before it was to be carried out. This man, David Crowe, was spared and had his sentence commuted to life in prison. Oh. Okay. See.

But Georgia couldn't do that for Troy Davis.

And I'm not really in support of setting fires and turning cars over, but...

It is definitely time to start some fires and turn some cars over. Because, I for one am tired of the United States killing my folks. And if the judicial system and it's police officers will mercilessly murder Troy, and Amadou, and Suzy Pena, and wrongfully imprison Assata, then they will do it to my children, me, and you. And they won't stop there.

The conversation since last night has been about exactly what to do. I don't have that answer. I'm still trying to figure it out. Petitions are nice and are helpful in effecting some kind of change, but I'm really not interested in being polite about this anymore. I am dedicated to figuring it out. I encourage you to do the same. Maybe I will see you and celebrate alongside you in a place where our paths converge.

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Seriously Folks...

'Member when I used to do all that great blogging back in the day? Yeah. I'mma do that again. Starting now. Seriously, folks.

Okay, listen... Don't look at me like that.

I been busy! I'm sorry, okay? I promise to make it up to you with lots of introspection, observation, verbatim text message, copy and pasted email conversations, and tomfoolery. Just watch. You'll see.

Okay, so let's start. "What has that maniac, Nikki been up to?" you may have been wondering. Well, I lost my job, ended a 5 year long on and off relationship with my best friend, rode some planes, got swept off my feet, fell in love, coached a slam team, went to Nationals, hosted a weekly open mic, continued the daily task of staying fly till I die, raised a black girl to the ripe old age of 12 years old, had a girl steal my house key, and got proposed to. Currently, I is gettin' married, lookin' for a job, growing my hair into a glorious, awe-inspiring mane, tryin' to get my stolen house key back, and writing, writing, writing. Oh, and serving the Lord with gladness. This here blog is going to be a part of that "writing, writing, writing" I just mentioned. It's gonna be so good. Mmmh, mmmh, mmmh!


Banner near Harvard Square in Cambridge Massachusetts, advertising the 2011 National Poetry Slam


So, now that we're back to being friends and you don't hate me for abandoning you anymore, I'mma letcha know... I'm old. I've been observing this lil' trend in blogging where everybody is tumbling all over the place. Listen. I ain't got time. I don't know nothin' 'bout none of that. I'mma stay put right here and push these blog entries out of my nether regions the old fashion way. 'Kay? I tweet. I Facebook on occasion. That's about all you're gonna get out of me.

However, I digress. What I really wanted to say is that I'm about as happy as a preggo Beyonce and I'm really excited to be blogging and sharing my life with you again.

On another note, one of the reasons that I felt that it was important that I return to blogging was because of the many social and political happenings of the past few months. There is always some mess poppin' off. I am by no means an expert in the fields of political science, economics, government, or sociology, but I do often have opinions, some of which might be interesting to folks other than my friends and people that I talk to on a regular basis. I spend a lot of time wondering if I'm the only person who feels or thinks a particular way about what I hear and read, and writing is a really productive way to process all of the information and [attempt to] make sense of the world.



For that reason, I find it very fitting that I am re-dedicating myself to my blog on the night before the scheduled execution of Troy Davis. If you don't know who this young man is, please take a moment to familiarize yourself with his case, develop an opinion, and perhaps find ways to be vocal about what is going on. It only takes a minute to sign a petition or make a phone call. You can contact the Chatham County's District Attorney's office at the following numbers:

Telephone: 912-652-7308 Fax: 912-652-7328

Hopefully, I'll be boasting about victory in my next blog post. In the mean time, let's all call, petition, tweet, email, pray, and make some noise to save this man's life.