Here I am. 2 hours and some change before my flight is scheduled to take off, BORED out of my mind. Unlike the Detroit airport, Logan does not have a psychedellic water fountain feature to entertain its anxious customers. Peep the picture to the left. I’ve sat in front of that fountain for MAD hours in my young life. If you’ve ever had a 3hr+ lay over in Detroit, you know exactly what I’m talking about. I digress, is it just me or have airpots completely abandonned all customer services? I remember the good ol’ days when we weren’t charged $15-25 for every checked bag on domestic flights (not to mention all the additional fees if your ish is over the weight limit). Back then, complimentary food and drink were expected. Today our only option is to buy $5 “snack packs” or pay an arm and a leg for mediocre chinese food or greasy pizza at sbarros. I’ll pass. My family and I were discussing the rapid decline of airports yesterday on our way back from seeing Milk (powerful flick, btw) and we predict that in next 5 years they’ll install coin operated bathrooms and we’ll have to bring our own seatbelts or some shit LOL. Okay, maybe not that bad, that would be a major liability but I’m trying to make a bigger point here! I mean, thank goodness for T-Mobile Hotspot or I wouldn’t even have wifi to keep me busy during these long waiting periods. I should probably buy more books. Sigh, I hate airports. How do business people manage? Thoughts?
Filed under: Hip Hop, Rants and raves | Tags: 808s and Heartbreaks, boy crisis, kanye west, the fader
I just finished reading the Kanye cover story from The Fader and I thought I’d throw my initial reactions and undeveloped thoughts out here in cyberspace. To begin, I think Yeezy’s first speech at the American Music Awards on Sunday night nicely captures the spirit of the article: he wants to be Elvis. So, let’s start with that in dialogue with:
“I was saying it from the gate: I’m into Louis Vuitton, I wanna be pop. I spent my whole check on those two bags I wore for those pictures. Those are some of my best pictures, other than having a really bad haircut. Now, the only thing is pop. I really like popular culture. I’m all about Walt Disney, Coca-Cola, Louis Vuitton, Nike. I want people to remember me the way they know Nike, that level of impact. Who was the last person who really had it like that? When I was a kid, it seems like there was a lot of great pop music. There was George Michael, Michael Jackson.” – Kanye West, The Fader
This is where I get confused. Kanye makes these inflammatory, provocative (in a seriously contrived and performative way) statements (that might be sincere but still, I know he likes this “wow” factor of saying something “different” and “better”) such as: “I want to be Elvis!” (“George Bush hates black people!”) and has this vampiric drive to excel and push the boundaries of anything he touches (music, fashion, design, branding at large) almost until any foreseeable breaking point. From the above answer, I got the impression that Kanye is infatuated with fame for fame’s sake. What exactly does he “like” about Louis Vutton, Coca-Cola and Nike besides their sheer impact? I think Kanye needs to define “impact” for himself. Impact is not necessarily just influence, it’s also control and oh yeah, power. He seems to adopt an elementary analysis of power as in power = good. Conversely, he talks at length about taking responsibility for the art he releases into the world. I wonder: who/what are Nike, Coca-Cola and “Pop” responsible to/for in Kanye’s eyes? Does it even matter? The same thing goes for his Elvis/Prince/Michael Jackson fascination. In one moment, I’m giving mental props to Yeezy for at least “keeping it real” and coming clean with his (overt) investments in the Coca-Cola’s of the world and his “I don’t mind being hated if I’m popular” attitude but it gets muddled with his talk of responsibility (in particular to the hood and “this culture”). Honestly, it seems like Yeezy has some good ideas but they get lost somewhere in his egoism and delusions of grandeur (which he predictably denies in The Fader article because apparently not even Kanye West can own up to his own narcissism, sorry Nietzsche). As funny as he seems in some of A-trak’s candid footage, he takes his career and image too seriously for me to fuck with. While I liked 808’s and Heartbreaks more than I expected, I just don’t think it’s the type of earth shattering, stereotype breaking, genius music that he’s claiming it to be. Obviously, I respect his passion and commitment to his own art but his almost compulsive need for it/him to be THE BEST bores me. Moreover, I found this statement to be hands down the most interesting and thought provoking one of the entire feature: “It’s (808’s and Heartbreaks) the musical version of an Obama speech”. Think about that one. I think he’s going somewhere with that…I don’t know if my initial reaction is being influenced by years of anti-capitalist, anarchist and situationist organizing but Kanye West and Obama only take it so far for me before I’m thirsting for something else. Before I go, I thought I’d share an analysis of power and fame within the context of pop music (though on a smaller scale) that sits well with me:
In an article aptly titled “You can’t be too smart to make pop“, the homie Victor Vazquez (second to the left) of Boy Crisis fame covers similar ground to Kanye in The Fader article but in a way that I fucks with HARD BODY. Let’s start with these 3 paragraphs:
“Vazquez, who was born in San Francisco and majored in English, reflects the band’s dual purpose by acknowledging their commercial potential and surface appeal – “our first idea was to be as pop as Britney Spears” – while using his new platform for a series of observations that read like a cultural studies syllabus. “It,” he says of the band’s name, “applies to the whole fey masculinity thing Boy Crisis are on, and how conventional ideas of masculinity and machismo are actually pretty homoerotic, which brings up the question of what masculinity is.”
Vazquez does this a lot – veers between teen-mag frivolity and degree-level scrutiny. “We’re Brian Eno and Timbaland’s love child,” he decides when asked for a capsule definition of their cerebral pop-funk. But when I bemoan the dearth of current “indie” bands fusing rock and R&B, he fires back: “That’s dangerous territory.”
I’m not sure what he means until a week later, when he sends me an email that is so long and painstakingly argued, it takes a further week to absorb his thoughts on the problem of white rockers assimilating black dance music. Phrases such as “cultural appropriation” and “reverence for concepts of aesthetic hierarchies” fairly trip off his keyboard.
EXACTLY! I think Victor says it best: “Wealth and fame mean influence, the power to redistribute the world’s wealth and make political change. But I also like doing drugs, having sex and wearing freaky clothes. I don’t think that’s at odds with me wanting people to have enough food to eat.” This analysis makes SO much more sense to me because he defines “impact” (the power to redistribute the world’s wealth) and follows through with this critical point that rockstardom is not necessarily at odds with a political analysis. Kanye fails to make these points and frankly they would mean less coming from him because it’s simply not reflected in his everyday lifestyle. (I can’t accuse him of fronting as he recently admitted he doesn’t even to listen to rap music anymore because it’s no longer relevant to his environment). LASTLY, I’d like to conclude with the following quotation from Victor, it’s the missing puzzle piece that summarizes my criticism of Kanye West at this moment:
“I would rather,” considers Vazquez, “get out of Iraq, not tax the poor more than the rich, fix health care and see appointed as justice to the supreme court someone with sane policies about abortion and gay marriage than have good pop music.”
Word the fuck Up. Hit up Boy Crisis. Read The Fader feature.
“I have to use the bathroom“ WORD? Point proven, fams. Wackest. Interview. Ever.
Filed under: Rants and raves | Tags: beyonce, ciara, if i were a boy, like a boy, sasha fierce, swagga jacka
VS.
I don’t know about y’all but when I first saw Beyonce’s new video for “If I Were A Boy” I thought SWAGGER JACKER! Are you serious? How was she even allowed to record that song nevermind release a video with an almost identical concept (except it’s far more dramatic than Ciara’s version and less interesting…I also like the song less). I might also be expressing disbelief at the choice of her alter ego SASHA FIERCE possibly the worst name imaginable…it sounds closer to a queeny stripper than a case of prophetic r&b schizophrenia. What do y’all think? Beyonce or Ciara?
Who doesn’t love SWV? No matter what year it is, these sisters with voices stay on heavy rotation in my ipod. Austin recently posted “You’re The One” on facebook and ever since then I’ve been listening to SWV imeem playlists on repeat (they make for the perfect lazy Sunday soundtrack, highly recommended). I’m currently rocking out to “Rain” (“rain down on me, let your love just shower me…”). As Katt Williams would say: this is my SHIT!!!! Anyone else with me on this one? Shout out to 54 Home and Esther and Lisa in particular for all the times we sang along to “Weak” while stooping it on those rare sunny days. It’s only right that I dedicate this one to y’all, HOLLA:
Is it just me or is anyone else concerned with their recently acquired addiction to caffeine specifically in the form of Iced Coffee??? Ever since graduating Wesleyan, I’ve formed the destructive habit of grabbing an Iced Coffee to jump start the day without even thinking about whether I even want one? My brain simply implies that obviously I want one! And another one and another one and on and on until my head eventually explodes and by then I figure it’s too late for coffee drinker rehab?! Thoughts? Granted things could be worse…I could be addicted to cigarettes and coffee and any number of addictions but as I sip the second Iced Coffee of the day, I’m starting to think now would be a good time to knock the habit. Is switching to tea a superficial improvement? I’m an avid tea drinker (It’s the Japanese side HA, that’s a joke guys, don’t be taking that shit seriously). The thing is, decaffeinated teas make me sleepy and all I want to do is cuddle in my big bed and listen to the rain outside my window (awww). Forreal though, I need an appropriate substitute and I’m starting to doubt this is a worthwhile fight, maybe i’ll call it off before the boycott even begins. Fuck it! I’m young! I’m going to allow myself another couple of years of bad college like vices because WHY NOT?!
Filed under: Rants and raves | Tags: caden costard, charlie kaufman, New York, phillip seymour hoffman, synecdoche
***Do not read this blog entry if you have yet to see Synecdoche, New York, there are mild spoilers.*** Charlie Kaufman’s directorial debut Synecdoche, New York is as clever and complex as its title. Admittedly, I knew absolutely nothing about the film before seeing it 3 hours ago in Berkeley after spending a lovely Sunday cafe hopping with Ana (shout out to Guerilla Cafe and their one of a kind waffles and revolutionary ambiance, I got jokes for days). The truth is, no blurb or movie trailer would have appropriately prepared me for the epic, viscerally painful and jarringly incoherent journey I experienced and continue to experience even as I write this. At times, I found the spectator role/the act of “watching” nearly impossible to resolve which resulted in brief moments of insanity/paralysis. Kaufman implicates each audience member so deeply within the script (within scripts) that you start to write it…or it writes you, I’m not sure which comes first or if they somehow exist simultaneously. There was one particular monologue towards the end that felt so eerily familiar as if I had dreamt it or if the stuff of the monologue was some unspoken life contact we all signed at birth. I am searching desperately for the script to quote it exactly and carry it with me…it spoke about forever oscillating between vague regret and vaguer hope, our perpetual longing for one look, one letter, one phone call (that may or may not come) and our stubborn unwillingness to let go of fairytale endings (and beginnings) even in the face of utter despair and abandonment. Ironically, review after review only reinforces the truth of this monologue in their blind defense of coherence and cohesiveness. They predictably read: “impressed by its originality, but depressed by its lack of coherence and narrative flow.” Blah, blah, blah (it’s unfortunately reminiscent of many an argument I had back at Wesleyan about the ambitions of my thesis project). Ah yes, our (or some) compulsive need for coherence and narrative flow. Audiences hate to be left with uncertainty and in the case of Synecdoche, death (usually confused for despair). “I am dying, you are dying, we are all dying, we are all hurling ourselves towards death”. Illness transforms Caden’s (brought to life by the brilliant Phillip Seymour Hoffman) relationship to death and life and fantasy and reality and time and memory…it all collapses into one messy attempt to love and fulfill some abstract childhood dream. Even in it’s experimental, “incoherent” form, it remains brutally honest…and exposes the hoax of Logic, Rationality, Control, Reality. It reminds us of how fragile we really are…and how bold and brave we want to be. Honestly, it’s beyond any of these words, and I’m writing about it as an exercise to articulate my abstract/raw emotions…maybe I’ll feel differently about “it” tomorrow but that’s precisely what confounds and infuriates audiences: it cannot be reduced to a film with actors and a script…”it” feels alive? I’ll end here and hopefully one day I’ll be able to post the monologue that I found so disturbingly familiar. Last thing: don’t see Synecdoche, New York with your girlfriend or boyfriend and it’s definitely not first date material (unless you’re a fan of awkward intensity). I urge you to see it and tell me what you think now that I’ve shared my immediate reaction with you. Here’s the trailer:
We’re dancing free but we’re stuck here underground
And everybody trying to figure they way out
Hey Hey Hey, all we ever wanted to say
Was chased erased and then thrown away
And day to day we live in a daze
We march all around til’ the sun goes down night children
Broken dreams, no sunshine, endless crimes, we long for freedom (for freedom)
You’re free but in your mind, your freedom’s in a bind
Oh make it rain, ain’t a thang and the sky to fall
(The silver bullet’s in your hand and the war’s heating up)
And when the truth goes BANG the shouts splatter out
(Revolutionize your lives and find a way out)
And when you’re growing down instead of growing up
(You gotta ooo ah ah like a panther)
Tell me are you bold enough to reach for love?
So strong for so long
All I wanna do is sing my simple song
Square or round, rich or poor
At the end of day and night all we want is more
I keep my feet on solid ground and use my wings when storms come around
I keep my feet on solid ground for freedom
You’re free but in your mind, your freedom’s in a bind
Civil rights, civil war
Hood rat, crack whore
Carefree, nightclub
Closet drunk, bathtub
Outcast, weirdo
Stepchild, freak show
Black girl, bad hair
Broad nose, cold stare
Tap shoes, Broadway
Tuxedo, holiday
Creative black, Love song
Stupid words, erased song
Gun shots, orange house
Dead man walking with a dirty mouth
Spoiled milk, stale bread
Welfare, bubonic plague
Record deal, light bulb
Keep back kid not corporate thug
Breast cancer, common cold
HIV, lost hope
Overweight, self esteem
Misfit, broken dream
Fish tank, small bowl
Closed mind, dark hold
Cybergirl, droid control
Get away now they trying to steal your soul
Microphone, one stage
Tomboy, outrage
Street fight, bloody war
Instigators, third floor
Promiscuous child, broken dream
STD, quarentine
Heroin user, coke head
Final chapter, death bed
Plastic sweat, metal skin
Metallic tears, mannequin
Carefree, night club
Closet drunk, bathtub
White house, Jim Crow
Dirty lies, my regards
And when the world just treats you wrong
just come with me and I’ll take you home
No need to pack a bag
Who put your life in the danger zone?
You running dropping like a rolling stone
No need to pack a bag
You just can’t stop your hurt from hanging on
The old man dies and then a baby’s born
Chan, chan, chan, change your life
And when the world just treats you wrong
just come with me and i’ll take you home
Filed under: Politricks, Rants and raves | Tags: barack obama, debate, gwen ifill, huffington post, joe biden, john mccain, sarah palin, that one, tim brokaw
Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. I would say that’s a fair summary of tonight’s boring, awkward and awkwardly repetitive debate. You can imagine how easy it was to create an image far more interesting than the event itself. I took the liberty of adding costumes to the otherwise terrified participants (anyone else struck by the homogeneity of the “ordinary” Americans?) I blame moderator Tom Brokaw for his broke @$$ job tonight. Our dear friend and Obama campaigner, Justin Denis, made an astute point on the phone with me following the debate regarding the universally poor performances by debate moderators thus far (sorry y’all but that includes Gwen Ifill): In an attempt to debunk the “Liberal media” stereotype, moderators are taking “objective” and “non-partisan” to new levels of WACK by making allowances for Sarah Palin and John McCain. At least Ifill shot Palin some looks of “what the fuck” whereas Brokaw straight up allied with McCain between the showcase of laughter and corny exchange of jokes and snarky comments about Obama “not answering the questions” AKA defending himself against bogus and malicious attacks. UGH. McCain was a train wreck, no big surprise there. He couldn’t even sit in the chair without looking like a creep. Is it just me or does he speak as if he’s telling a children’s story? Seriously, next debate pay attention to his speech patterns. He’s been kickin’ it with Palin too long, he’s starting to pick up on her Miss Congeniality routine (to no avail) with the bad jokes and “my friends” shtick. Gag me. I had to leave the room when it got to “foreign policy” and McCain started accusing Obama of war mongering and spewing patriotic rhetoric of America as the “best peace keeping genocide hating force of good” in the world. Fortunately, I came back in time to hear Obama correctly pronounce “Pakistan”. Damn, that’s new to American politics. I just hope the last debate picks up…I couldn’t stand watching McCain interact with people and hobble around the studio acting like finding Osama and “shoring up the economy” are “simple” and “easy to fix problems”…and they say Obama is arrogant? Also, can we really be surprised that McCain flippantly referred to Obama as “that one”? Given the hostile *vibes* at McCain-Palin rallies lately involving supporters yelling “Kill Him!” and “Treason!” and even shouting racial epithets at POC reporters, we shouldn’t feel shy about calling McCain and Palin racist. Let’s say it together now: *RACIST*. Pundits prefer “faux-paus” or “racially tinged”. I’m impressed by how many ways we can suggest racism without ever naming it. Here at BUGGIN’ OUT, we have no problem “keeping it real” and “telling it like it is”. While everyone is riding out this wave of confidence and planning some baller Obama-Biden victory parties, I’m sitting behind this computer awe struck at the levels of dysfunction and douchebaggery we have achieved in this country (specifically in the realm of politics) with a big bold question mark written on my face. No matter what happens, keep doing what you doing because politics aint gonna save nobody. Ya dig? To end, a big FUCK YOU to the AIG fools burning through our $$$ with the quickness on manicures and lobster dinners, that shit is a JOKE. Ok, I love you all and please feel free to comment with your thoughts on what went down tonight. The weekend fast approaches, we need a dance party to release all of this pent up “economic crisis” anxiety that’s compounded by my serious Iced Coffee addiction, say WORD! Brought to you by the “Daily Show” of blogs…(read: I got jokes)
That would be today’s “Moment of Zen”
Filed under: Politricks, Rants and raves | Tags: break the chains, CR10, critical resistance, keep it movin', mccain, nora, obama, prop 5, recess, the bailout, the intersection, una osato, yuri kochiyama, zakia
I woke up with a pounding migraine to the latest news story that the House of Representatives voted down the $700 BIllion Bailout Plan. I’m not sure what to make of it (shocking) and my headache is preventing me from thinking clearly so bear with me. I’m sure I’ll hit y’all with some rant later in the week about all this financial Ra Ra. Anyway, this weekend was hectic and exhausting. It kicked off at The Intersection (dope space in the Mission!) for my friend Evan’s art opening where I enjoyed the company of good folks and compulsively checked incoming twitter messages from ?uestlove, Jay Smooth and Miss Info to piece together how the debate was playing out. I knew it got off to a rough start when Jay twittered “this really is like a group therapy session, with all the “say that directly to him” and “I wish Obama would say “wrong” instead of “objectionable”, and “stop” instead of “cessation”, etc.” and after Miss Info sent a series of messages likening McCain to The Game (“MCCAIN is the GAME of the political world….such a name dropper”) I knew something was really wrong. After watching the debate late Friday night, I understood exactly what they were talking about. It was an awkward passive aggressive therapy session and it did absolutely nothing for me. Boo to politics. Rewind: Ana and I hit up the CR10 (Critical Resistance’s 10th anniversary) open plenary at Laney after Evan’s opening where I reunited with old friends (shout out to Spiritchild and Khalil). The highlights were definitely Suheir Hammad’s reading and Destiny Arts (they killed it to MIA’s “Bamboo Banga“). Given that most folks were still jet-lagged and hungry from jumping coasts, we all retired early (only after Ana and I walked around the lake to a Burrito spot for an impromptu Wesleyan reunion, shocking). I got a late start Saturday and didn’t make it back to Laney until 3:30 just in time to meet up with the lovely Zakia. We ran in between 2 workshops (one on community accountability and the other on the war on drugs/war on kids), nothing spectacular to share. The highlight was definitely the open bar at AIR lounge afterwards (wow, I sound like a counterrevolutionary, huh?). Two beers later, I BARTed back home and grubbed hard body with Nati and Pat at our FAVORITE thai joint on Divisadero before going out with Ana. The night ended with us watching Bear Grylls on Man Vs. Wild piss on snakes, eat larva, and get attacked by bees. I want to do a Katt Williams inspired stand up routine spoofing that show. I mean, homie’s name is BEAR and he’s even more intense than Steve Irwin, the crocodile hunter (RIP).
Hilarious. So, long story short, Sunday rolled around and I came to the epiphany (the same epiphany I have every month or so) that the people I know are some of the best people in the world. Instead of boring you with more details of the weekend, I’m going to use the rest of this entry to put you onto the good work of my friends. Let’s face it, this blog is primarily a hype platform for people I co-sign and who I personally believe don’t get the props they deserve. Let’s begin with the talented Una Aya Osato.
“The one-woman play, Recess,is the culmination of Una’s experiences in the New York City public school system from the early years of her education all the way to adulthood where she has been teaching for over three years.After having taught all over New York City she has witnessed the myriad of frustrations that beset both teachers and learners as they try to navigate their way through the day to day struggle of the great bureaucracy that is school.The play follows the experiences of one seven-year-old girl, Sherita from the Bronx, as she copes with life. Burdened by undue familial responsibility at too young an age, school has become the epicentre of stress and comfort. In the course of the play we are exposed to various people and relationships in Sherita’s life.We meet her mother, teacher and schoolmates. It is through the encouragement of her school peers that she is temporarily able to forget about familial strain and daily battles with school authority.” — Recess MySpace
I had the pleasure of experiencing an intimate performance of Una’s latest work “Recess” on Sunday at CR10. Ever since I saw her Senior Thesis show at Wesleyan “Keep It Movin’” I knew she had a rare gift to produce powerful and accessible performances that tell stories of everyday struggle within greater contexts and questions of war and racism. Homegirl had me full-bellied laughing in one instance and crying in the next, she has the flexibility and intensity of any strong performer. More than anything, she’s down to put herself out there and be vulnerable in front of her audiences. Check her out here and here and here. Support that good shit, ya dig?
“Break The Chains (BTC) is a non-profit organization that seeks to build a national movement within communities of color to promote reform of punitive drug policies, with the ultimate aim of enacting alternative policies based on public health, compassion, racial justice and human rights. A guiding principle of Break the Chains is that since people of color are disproportionately affected by current drug policies we must be an integral part of the movement to reform them” — BTC publications
Now I got to plug my girl Zakia. Zakia represented for her NYC based organization Break The Chains at CR10 and led a workshop examining the impact of the “war on drugs” on poor communities of color, the policies supporting it, and the politics sustaining it. The workshop provided folks with an overview of U.S. drug policy and outlined harmful strategies employed by government to criminalize certain addictions over others (illegal vs. legal drugs) and block funding for needle exchange programs. Unfortunately, the workshop took a turn for the worst when self-proclaimed revolutionaries started to get at Zakia’s co-facilitator from the Nonviolent Offender Rehabilitation Act (NORA) campaign (Yes on 5) for being “pretendo” AKA “reformist bullshit” AKA “counterrevolutionary” AKA “a white lady reading statistics”. I’m sorry but my threshold for militant people of color spitting that “revolution” “all or nothing” “black and white” early 90s identity politics shit is low these days. We tell ourselves that we need multi-faceted and dynamic movements that can respond to present day mutations but we’re simply recycling the same played out tactics/strategies and righteously preaching to the choir on our bootlegged soap boxes. C’mon now, let’s stop the nonsense. Why do Q&A’s at these radical conferences inevitably devolve into opportunities for know-it-alls to flaunt their “downness”? I mean, ask a question (not rhetorical) instead of offering the same boring critique: “Why aren’t we talking about ______ (Insert cause here)? Why are YOU leaving ME out? Why are YOU in MY space?” Worst of all, they acted like homegirl wasn’t aware she was engaged in legislative REFORM, how condescending can you get? Zakia and I are half convinced those folks are going to campaign against “yes on 5″ just to prove their point. I’m not sure what their point was/is (exactly). Thankfully, Margaret didn’t pull any defensive white people shit and maintained her cool (impressive forreal). What’s the problem with allying with white people doing good work and playing their position? You definitely don’t want her on the block so STOP hating! PHEW I had to get that off my chest. Fortunately, the rest of the day made up for any wackness when I got to meet Japanese American badass. freedom fighter and diamond dame, Yuri Kochiyama.
For those of you who don’t know Yuri Kochiyama, please take time to read up on her. In short: longtime civil rights activist, interned at a U.S. concentration camp during World War II (along with my grandmother), friend of Malcolm X and with him as he died. While she finds herself in poor health these days, she has no trouble screaming into any microphone and standing up to rock with Oakland and Brooklyn youth to hip hop. I have a difficult time containing my emotions around her, she’s always been an inspiration to me and an undeniably positive presence in this world. Also, who isn’t jealous of her political alliance and friendship with Malcolm X? Are you kidding me?! It was a great honor to meet her and I aspire to be the kind of fierce (and fly) fighter she was and continues to be for Japanese Americans and for the world. As you can see, it was a long and busy weekend and I’m only breaking you off with a little something something, there’s much more to share but I haven’t the energy to keep blogging SO look Una, Zakia, and Yuri up and watch your back for any over-zealous revolutionary types looking to call you out and/or cut you down. Now, tell me about YOUR weekends, what’d you do? where’d you go? who with? why? how? Indulge me.
Filed under: Rants and raves | Tags: annemarie bean, judgement day, the new york times magazine, wesleyan
“Annemarie Bean, who goes by Anna and is a distant, poorer cousin of the family that owns the L.L. Bean clothing business, is the kind of professor who draws students to small New England liberal-arts colleges like Wesleyan. She is funny, enthusiastic, devoted to her students and passionate about what she teaches. Her subject areas are offbeat and slightly avant-garde, the kind of stuff that students, and their ostensibly liberal faculties, are said to find thrilling: African-American theater, the history of minstrelsy, “whiteness studies” — essentially, the intersection of race and theatrical performance in modern America. Beyond her subject matter and top-notch education, including a Ph.D. from New York University’s acclaimed performance-studies department, she just seems like a good fit for Wesleyan. She is an alumna of the college, class of ’88; she is informal in her manner, tall and limber like a dancer, bright-eyed, the opposite of stuffy, eminently approachable; and she suggested lunch at It’s Only Natural, the pride of Middletown, Conn., a regional mecca for vegetarian, vegan and macrobiotic dining. (Nothing says “Wesleyan” like lunch at It’s Only Natural, where you eat bulgur wheat beneath paintings by local artists.) Bean knows that she belongs at Wesleyan, which is why she’s especially sad that her students fired her.” – Judgement Day
Thank you, Anna for teaching us all a life lesson in white privilege–one of your many “off beat” and “slightly avant garde” areas of study/expertise (like African American theater, duh) that we liberals (“excluding all angry and brooding white men who wear white hats on backward and secretly harbor resentment against the misunderstood WASP aficionado of blackface history”) find absolutely “thrilling”. And thank you, Mark Oppenheimer for showing the world what good reporting looks like (note to self: never take Yale seriously ever, especially not the director of Yale Journalism Initiative). I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive us for this inexcusable “miscarriage of justice” (really, Mark? you just had to be that dramatic?). The hard truth is we as students are OVER empowered by Wesleyan and the elevated role of our opinion in faculty’s fortunes is down right unfair to well-meaning, well-educated, and well-connected (not to mention “tall and limber like a dancer” and “bright eyed” white lady visiting) professors like yourself. Mark’s suggestion that “what students are really evaluating is less pedagogy than whether a professor is funny, handsome or, above all, an easy grader” is right on the money. We’re just superficial, shallow, and lazy saboteurs who have nothing better to do than write completely fictitious critiques about tokenism, disorganization, tardiness and lack of professionalism (Mark, I dare you to be more condescending and cliche next time, why don’t you say something about “voter apathy” and moral decay among our “bulgur wheat eating” youthful selves). Even if there were any grain of truth to the (articulate, well-written) negative evaluations, the fact that you are poorer than your cousin who owns L.L. Bean (gasp!) and an “It’s Only Natural” enthusiast (are you fucking kidding me?) quite obviously make up for any other relatively harmless shortcomings (like being racist or I don’t know, a terrible professor). You deserve a secure and prestigious position at an institution that will give you the respect and recognition that Wesleyan failed to provide (you are an overly dramatic and spiteful hater who needs to get over yourself and stop playing the white lady victim card and unpack that not-so invisible knapsack, girl. I’m sure Peggy McIntosh can help you out LOL). I hope that this report in the New York Times Magazine will help generate support for you and your noble cause (I hope you’re ready for the backlash and I hope you google your name and find this sarcastic as fuck blog entry and feel like a shithead). Yours truly, Isa. (Post-script: you are single handedly responsible for making me reconsider the performance studies program @ NYU, but I won’t let you determine my future so nevermind) Sorry y’all, I really had to get that off my chest, ya dig?
