So hip-hop heads (my brother definitely included) have probably figured out the title of my blog's first entry is a nod to Outkast's 1994 debut album Southernplayalisticadillacmuzik.
This is my debut, however.
We shouldn't be afraid of words ghetto or yuppies nor take offense when these terms are uttered. They are labels and these two labels together best describe me -- black and loud and proud, but dammit if I don't like a spicy tuna roll and or a venti white chocolate mocha from Starbucks too. I'm a mystery, wrapped in an enigma wrapped in this cute pair of chuck taylors I saw worn by Pete Wentz from Fall Out Boy.
This first entry is also a disclaimer so before Al Sharpton wags his finely manicured finger in judgement at the word ghetto or the ACLU comes to my defense using the first amendment -- be warned. I will write things you may not like or understand, but I need to get my "crazy" out somewhere and better here than you all see me talking to an imaginary friend on the Red Line train going to 95th St.
This is a fluid commenting on the fine line I walk as a black woman in a not-so-black world; that structured, boxed-in dance many African-Americans have to master like the electric slide at our yearly family reunions. This blog will be my sanity and my salvation in small parts.
So here I go. Are you there? I hope you are because if you're not, then I am no better off mentally than I thought and should start figuring out a good name for my imaginary friend. I like the name Leopold.
This is my debut, however.
We shouldn't be afraid of words ghetto or yuppies nor take offense when these terms are uttered. They are labels and these two labels together best describe me -- black and loud and proud, but dammit if I don't like a spicy tuna roll and or a venti white chocolate mocha from Starbucks too. I'm a mystery, wrapped in an enigma wrapped in this cute pair of chuck taylors I saw worn by Pete Wentz from Fall Out Boy.
This first entry is also a disclaimer so before Al Sharpton wags his finely manicured finger in judgement at the word ghetto or the ACLU comes to my defense using the first amendment -- be warned. I will write things you may not like or understand, but I need to get my "crazy" out somewhere and better here than you all see me talking to an imaginary friend on the Red Line train going to 95th St.
This is a fluid commenting on the fine line I walk as a black woman in a not-so-black world; that structured, boxed-in dance many African-Americans have to master like the electric slide at our yearly family reunions. This blog will be my sanity and my salvation in small parts.
So here I go. Are you there? I hope you are because if you're not, then I am no better off mentally than I thought and should start figuring out a good name for my imaginary friend. I like the name Leopold.
I am so excited you started a blog, Cathy! I can't wait to read your observations as a black woman in a not-so-black world.
ReplyDeleteI have a comment to make! As a person of color, I sometimes write things on my blog that make people squirm - and in one case, actually made somebody angry because I dared to write that I was being discriminated against based on the color of my skin.
So, I gotta tell you - I am THRILLED with your first blog entry. I am a minority, a LOUD Latina in a world where places like Arizona's have gone rogue - but you can still find me sipping on an espresso drink at Starbucks, or poring over the tapas list at the local wine bar. :)
Thanks so much Eve!
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