“I can put that on with my five best friends and
we know all the lyrics and all the guitar solos. It’s a really inspiring album…
my favorite of all time.” - Shawn Mendes on John Mayer’s ‘Continuum’
All week long we’re celebrating music with #InMyCollection. Whether it is vinyl, CDs, ticket stubs, or memorabilia, music fans are extremely passionate and proud of their music. Share your story on Instagram using #InMyCollection and you could be featured right here!
I look for someone I can talk deep into the night on topic after tangential topic. Only seeing the look of wonder and excitement in his eyes. Sharing dreams like raindrops hitting a pond, ripples meeting ripples. Feeling the sense that whatever journey we may go on, we will always carry each other home. The body, soul, and mind who carries these things I do not know yet. I’ve had the most beautiful and fleeting of glimpses, but that flicker is enough to push my heart on. To collect itself, mend, and listen for that voice which cuts across the collected noise. A voice I want to be with me in my silent moments. A bright soul which balances my own dark forest. A heart that beats in rhythm with my own.
Mother Hotep,Shaharazad Ali:
Preaching, Teaching, and Encouraging Misogynoir In the Black “Community” for 27 (maybe more) Years (Part 1)
Although not lazy by nature, she has become loose and careless about herself and about her man and family. Her brain is smaller than the Blackman’s, so while she is acclaimed for her high scholastic achievement, her thought processes do not compare to the conscious Blackman’s.
Her unbridled tongue is the main reason she cannot get along with the Blackman…if she ignores the authority and superiority of the Blackman, there is a penalty. When she crosses this line and becomes viciously insulting it is time for the Blackman to soundly slap her in the mouth.-Shaharazad Ali, “The Black Man’s Guide to Understanding the Black Woman”
She explains why she wrote the book:
“I wrote the book because black women in America have been protected and insulated against certain kinds of criticism and examination.”
I REALLY tried to like this woman. I first learned of this woman back in the 90s as a young teen when I viewed her controversial appearance on the Sally Jesse Raphael Show. I knew she was wrong in her black woman bashing and misogynoir then, I just couldn’t articulate it. I tried to ignore her extreme misogynoir through the years because she spoke the truth about white supremacy, but as I’ve gotten older and began to take a look at sexism and misogynoir towards black women, I couldn’t ignore it any longer. She speaks the truth about racism white supremacy out one side of her mouth white spewing misogynoir out the other. Hotep-ology 101!
She even trashed black women’s hygiene habits:
We bully Black men, we steal, we stink (especially our hair and armpits), and we are failing our community by failing to get in line behind our men.
Here is her controversial appearance on Sally Jesse Raphael ……if you can stomach it. She had the audience all riled up. Disclaimer:She dragged Black Women to filth!
The sad part of all of this is that a shitload of misogynistic black men and (some) black women agree with her. I’ll leave it up to you’ll if you want to read the book reviews on amazon. IT WAS AWFUL!
Here is more information about how the book was received by wider society:
Critics complained that book offered no factual data to substantiate her views or information about how she came to her conclusions and was essentially as a vanity-press product that would have been ignored by black people and others had it not been for the media attention its novelty and outrageousness created.
The book was controversial bringing “forth community forums, pickets and heated arguments among blacks in many parts” of the US when it was published in 1989.Stories about the book appeared in the Los Angeles Times, New York Times, Washington Post, Newsday, and Newsweek. Ali appeared on ‘Tony Brown’s Journal’, the ‘Sally Jessie Raphael Show’, ‘The Phil Donahue Show’, and ‘Geraldo’ TV programs, was ridiculed on In Living Color. The book reportedly “brought black bookstores new business”, while other black bookstores banned it. It also provoked a book of essays (called Confusion by Any Other Name) “exploring the negative impact” of The Blackman’s Guide
For all of you Shaharazad Ali supporters, you said she didn’t mean it like like that, for black men to slap black women and the other misogynistic stuff she said, SHE MEANT IT LIKE THAT! Great advice to mend the already fragile collective relationship between the black man and black woman.***smfh***
My shore is littered with pieces of you,
all the hard layers you refused for so long
to shed. Now you lie here waiting to be
picked up, attended to, mended, fixed,
collected, just as I have time and time before.
But I have baked in the sun long enough for
my insides to grow still, no longer calloused;
sure enough to let the rough edges become
refined through time, edges smoothened,
and until transparent, like glass. And though
to some I may appear more fragile now,
I know myself to be all the more different.
Please, do not litter the many pieces of you
upon my shore, or theirs, in hopes that
a passerby will take notice and collect
you until whole. A collection is but a
mediocre show of possession. But to own
yourself, in entirety and in all your pieces,
is a testament of full rounded completion.
Here are two Title Fight videos I took years ago that I recently watched and decided to put up on YouTube, because why not?
This first one was the first time I saw Title Fight. They played one of my now best friends Jake from East Coast Collectives backyard in essentially the middle of the winter and it was
so cold. I think they were playing a weekend with Make Do And Mend? It’s crazy to think that this is going to be seven years ago
soon. A bunch of us went to go see H2O, Cruel Hand and Energy in NYC
after and that show was cool as well.
AN: This assumes 4x12 faded to black with Emma/Regina doing shots. Will/Regina (what’s that pairing called?) friendship (well… non-romance anyway) based on my headcannon that Will has decided to look out for Regina in Robin’s absence. Type and post so mistakes mine. Written in the wee hours with no sleep, so possibly nonsensical once I’ve had some.
He’s not sitting unobtrusively in the corner of the diner because Robin asked him to keep an eye on her (though he did). And he’s definitely not sitting there for the luke-warm offering in front of him that Granny tries to pass off as a bacon sandwich; he’d only ordered it to accompany the whiskey he’s been nursing as an excuse for taking his time. He’s not even sitting there to see the blond sheriff try and draw the ex-Evil Queen into conversation when all of the latter’s focus is obviously on the glass (ah - glasses, they’ve knocked back a fair few) in front of her. That’s the problem with this town; no one seems to appreciate the times when you just need to wallow.
An hour or so later and the diner is empty of customers, save him and the women at the counter. Granny has already confiscated the sheriff’s keys and sent her packing with a call to the Hook bloke, who, it must be said, looked equal parts surprised and gleeful to see her in such a state. Regina, however, is refusing to be disposed of quite so easily Has, in fact, threatened several dire things should any members of her family come walking through that door on a tip-off from the woman. The fact that she couldn’t stay in the diner all night and is in no state to get herself out be damned.
He pushes himself back from the table, chair legs scraping loudly over the floor, and ambles over to where the pair are frozen in a mulish stand-off (or mulish slump into the table top as the case may be).
“I’ll see her home”
He can see it’s with no small effort that Regina raises her head to shoot him a baleful glare, but it gives him the perfect view to watch as she comes to two sluggish realizations.
One, it’s not Robin. Even though she knew it wouldn’t be she hates the not-Robin English bastard for the few seconds her brain will allow her to latch on to any particular purpose.
Two, she’s seen him somewhere before.
When that dim spark of recognition finally lights (her watching the two men hug, knowing after their goodbyes comes hers and then all is lost), she stops making the effort to glare and looks down, unsure what to make of this little kind of kinship.
“What’s your name again?” Granny may be two seconds from getting her gun if she doesn’t get to close the place down, but she’s not about to throw an obviously drunk woman out with a random man.
“I’m Will” he tells her. “Friend of Robin’s”.
Ah. She remembers seeing them. That makes things easier. A nod gives him permission, and faced with the choice of him or Snow (or David. Or a combination of the two.), Regina finds it easier to deal with the almost-stranger with the frank, if somehow understanding face.
After the first few attempts to walk go badly, Will resigns himself to the fact that it’s not going to work and maneuvers her into a piggy back. She objects, but it’s hard to inject any real venom when you’re propping yourself up on the side of the bar stool and are having trouble remembering your words. He finally gets them out the door (bloody Christ you wouldn’t think she was this heavy to look at her) and heads for a long walk down the back road through town. Main Street would be a little shorter, but they’ll be enough headaches tomorrow without adding the shame of witnesses to her metaphorical one.
They walk in silence for a few minutes, before a small sound breaks him out of thoughts of other lands, where not all wonders are entirely wonderful.
“You smell like him”, the admission is mumbled and a sleep-slurred, “Whiskey and f-forest”.
He turns his head a fraction to see her purposefully not looking at him, head leaning into the leather of his shoulder. Her eyes are losing the battle to stay open, and if a little wetness has escaped the corner well now that’s none of his business is it.
When she begin to curve instinctively closer to his scent he gives a sigh and lowers her to her feet, turning to anchor her sway as he slides down to sit them on the ground. Let her pretend awhile, if it can give her comfort. Even if she remembers this tomorrow there’s no one but him to see, and he’d be the last to judge what people do in the name of love. He’s seen the bottom of his own bottles enough times.
There’s nothing he can do for her, some pains just have to be lived through.
He reaches into his pocket, skimming over the carefully mended piece of paper collected from the road a few hours earlier, to pull out his own page, with his own love caught on ink and parchment. This is why he’s here (in the back half of town, in the middle of the night, with this stranger-kin passed out against him). Because some things are always worth it, but he understands more than anyone that it can be a long path.
So he’ll keep page 23 safe for now, next to his, until she’s ready to face it again.
(And he’ll find some way of getting Robin’s lady-love home with minimum spectacle. How the hell does he get himself into these things?).