Living my life in a form of uncertainty, but that's okay!

"...Living is a form of not being sure, not knowing what next or how.  The moment you know how, you begin to die a little."  I read this and I actually had to sit back as it forced something inside of me to take note and grasp it for all its worth.  Reading it over, again and again, as if it was a note written out, personally, just for me.  "The moment you know you begin to die a little" echoed in the back of mind as I was making sense of all the turbulence I've been experiencing life-wise lately.  It encompassed my entire existence, at that instant.  Me, looking and searching for the answers to so many of life's vagueness and incompleteness, the incomprehension of the daily struggles and the glimpses of joy that do, as much as I sometimes want to turn a blind eye to, appear every so often.


We are meant to go about this not knowing, because if you do know, then why live anymore.  You would die a little more each day because there'd be little to live for, little left to strive for, little to understand.  What keeps most of us waking up to each day, hopeful, as the rising sun, new and untainted, is to discover just a little more, to unveil a little more of that lingering riddle, the unquestioned and the unanswered.  Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr, is so correct, the happenings in my life are just fine, they are more than alright - it means that I am in fact, living, it would mean nothing to me if I had it all figured out and laid out bare.


I love when I stumble upon meaningful quotes, prose, poetry or images, music or whatever at a point or time that I most needed some assurance or understanding.  I'm sharing this, because, who knows, maybe you needed to hear it too.

My perspective on the Slutwalk

When something fails to ignite any interest in me or I deem it an activity that doesn't align with who I am or what I stand for - I pay it no attention.  But if that something is not disappearing from subjects in the media, personal conversations, etc. the curious creature awakens.

The topic in question is an event that dates April 3rd of this year as its debut, in Toronto.  Quick background: some time in January, Constable Michael Sanguinetti at a crime prevention forum said, "women should avoid dressing like sluts in order to not be victimised".  He later apologised for his distasteful remark.

Ponder on the amount of vast ignorance cited in that statement and the damage it carries, the hurt it lashes out relived in many sexually harassed victims upon reading or hearing those words.

Moving along, Heather Jarvis and Sonya Barnett are the co-founders of the what's been said to be a controversial movement, called the Slutwalk, based on Mr Sanguinetti's sentiments.  In a recent post (Aug 25th) by Heather, on their site she writes that she's not urging anybody to call themself a slut but rather that it,

"can be seen as less about you when you're called a "slut" and more about them."

 Furthermore, I read stories by contributors about their personal experiences with regard to being violated and stripped (excuse the pun) of their integrity and the freedom of womanhood, on the very same site.  Heartrending stories.  I did all this to gain some perspective on the Slutwalk that has come to South Africa, first Cape Town this August and will be held in Joburg this coming September.  Tweets, comments on media forums, blogs, etc. all commenting with ferocious yays or nays about it.  In retrospect, I find that many were unwarranted and that the authors of some of what was said based their opinions on little background as to the why, what, and who.

Reading the ordeals posted by participants or those for this movement makes you understand why.  The term "slut" perceived as utterly rude and offensive, hence, the 'I refuse to attend a campaign that labels me as such' backlashes.  Those participating feel that they have been reduced to that term and all it connotes.  They were rendered powerless, and the march paints a symbolism in that it gives them back some power.  It removes the shame.  The guilt.  The victimisation.

"the intent behind the word is always to wound, so we're taking it back. "Slut" is being re-appropriated."

-- One of the "whys" posted on the site.

 
Umeshree Govender, writes in an article, "SlutWalk Cape Town, perhaps surprisingly, was not organised by an anti-rape organisation or a feminist group, but rather by three unwitting masters students: Umeshree Govender, Stuart MacDonald and Michael Clark...".  She points out the many facts that proved to be a common thread describing the march, that it is about divorcing yourself from misconceptions, that 'asking to be raped' is an oxymoron.  It's unbelievable the number of people who think women or men ask for it.  She writes too, about a woman who wore to the march exactly what she did the day she was raped, now that's bravery personified.  Read more of the article here: From the 'Chief Slut' Herself .

Not too long ago, I read a novel, Commencement by J. Courtney Sullivan, where more than one of the young ladies characterised are subjected to different accounts of sexual abuse and rape and younger girls prostituted.  In an underlying tone, the perpetrators saw no harm in their deeds.
It's upsetting, when you're out on leisurely strolls, errand running, not in the least bit looking or dressed for any attention to receive catcalls, wolf-whistling,  or the odd grope, etc. by random strangers; men who still see you as just an aesthetic object for their pleasure.
Just the other day, I tweeted about an incident, where I was asked to pose for a picture that this nobody on the streets would use as a screensaver on his cellular phone.  Appalling.  And disturbing, not to mention how uncomfortable you're made to feel.  I responded, with words unkind and continued on my way, albeit, questioning how I was dressed, did my walk insinuate anything, you know.  No one asks to be assaulted, not sexually nor criminally, so from that standpoint I see the message loud and clear conveyed in the Slutwalk campaign.  The term used, unfortunately, does dilute a worthy cause - there are always victim-blaming tales cited in these assaults, many people are just missing the point because they are rather consumed by the semantics of the title.

That being said, the event generated media attention, the name and movement caught on globally and is still spreading.  An education, especially in Africa, is muchly required more so now, after reading about Malusi Gigaba, Minister of Public Enterprises, having tweeted that he'd like to attend the Slutwalk because he might get lucky.  There is definitely some schooling needed.  You being the victim, should not even be mentioned in the same breath as incitement or justification for an assault of any kind.

Rape is about the violence, the act of domination not a short skirt, a top with a low-neckline, a dress that fits too tight, boots too high on thighs, a lipstick or a hairstyle that appears too bedroomy. And maybe, our officers and society as a whole need to be taught how to receive rape survivors with support rather than judgement.  Allowing us to move one step forward in this fight for those reduced to powerlessness.

An enemy bigger than my apathy

Simplicity and sincerity: I thrive off everything derived from these.  I pick up their nuances so easily, it's like second-nature to me.  Ranging from what I wear, indulge in to just about everything. In this instance, however, I've got the pretty, delicate and filled with melancholy sounds of Mumford & Sons playing in the background of the room I'm in... and in my head.

I love their music! It's simple, in the entire meaning of the word, with trombone flourishes and banjo picking in essence of the anthemic folk sounds.  Sincere in lyrics, that are intertwined with passion, intimacy and enthusiasm; presented in tinges of courage or sweet or hopeful tones with subtle connotations of religious riddles here and there.

When listening to their genius, I'm overcome with images blended in fervour and memories as each note and word is sung.  With a leading vocal so raw, you feel it ripping at the layers of your skin, delving deep into your innermost until you find yourself, unsuspectingly, lost in all its honesty.

Their lyrics carries poetical inclinations too, filled with metaphors and exposing a vulnerability and fragility - my favourite type of music to listen to, and listen to again, to listen to over and over, that vulnerable.  In elaboration: that you're drawn to cusps of losing your breath in the same moments as your eyes being brimmed with hot tears.

Anyways, Mumford & Sons' music is commanding and I'm looking forward to their new album so that I could tweet away my fav' lines from their songs.  Each of their songs render something majestical to me, I love them all individually and as a collective the album is just magical.  I Gave You All, however, deserves a special mention and this is it.

Musing over.

Even with the chaos "...It is still a beautiful world."

I'm about to expose a part of me I usually keep sheltered.  It's nothing dark and sinister, or maybe it is but we are all morally dwarfed in some manner. Yes?

Not indulging and enjoying this behaviour in a sickening and demented way, rather a mild obsession to delve in deeper to discover more and know more about these sort of happenings.  I'm sweet on heartbreak and chaos.

They ignite a frisson of intrigue in me.  An intrigue of inquisitiveness, mostly.  I draw to events that are out of the ordinary.  You know, they don't happen often and when they do, crowds the world over are gradually drawn in and we all form a part of the consciousness that this event is creating.  That chaos.

Right now, that chaos is packaged in the economic crisis in the US of America, the desperation in Somalia, the tension on the streets of the English, the reaching out to achieve peace in Libya and so forth.  All these events, indicates human wreckage to me.  And the questions mount in a burning fury, which in turn, has me wandering in the drama to silence my mind with neat or not so neat answers.

Reasoning always brings me back to the beginning and the core of my beliefs regarding life and human nature.  As a collective, we are able to operate under adversity's black clouds - and that, there is always beauty in the damage.  I watch the terrain and the circumstances, those involved and how their emotions and intellect steers them in their decisions.

The unruliness caused by some is met with the need for quiet by others.  It's always been that way, like yin and yang, how else will the world function.  There has to be discord in order for peace to be restored, even in places like London where it seemingly appeared to be all tea and scones all day every day.  I might not know anything for certain regarding these riots but there's not a chance that it is all sudden and startling.  It's built up and suppressed anger that is being displayed in these vile showcases of ruin and looting.

It's quite amusing to see the nation wanting to pack it away neatly and quickly.  These rioters had no slogans or demands as is expected with these type of rallies.  This is different and that is what has peaked my interest.

As is obvious, race and social and economic dimensions are always cited in these disturbing events - leading to more pressing questions.  In every society, are people marginalised by the abovementioned dimensions, and they are generally frustrated and feel obvious seclusion from the rest.  There are always elements of silenced crying, a hunger for opportunity or merely a chance to do better and be better.

So, during my quest to understand the cacophony, the politics, the humane element; I flick through the channels, click on the buttons, turn the pages, visit the histories of something similar all the while feeling exquisitely uncomfortable as I get occasional glimpses and examination of wonderment by those around me who are nonchalant by the chaos.

It happens every day, in the little things or the not so little things that I discover just how individualistic I am.  The hurt, anger, the aches and the chaos I navigate to is a concentrated yearning to see and find and befriend the subtle beauty in it all - because it is always there.  Always.  So, I scratch at the chaos and become exonerated in what lies underneath:  the luminous glory of that which is larger and way more profound than all the rubble and debris we beings can manufacture.

Edward P. Morgan:

A book is the only place in which you can examine a fragile thought without breaking it, or explore an explosive idea without fear it will go off in your face.  It is one of the few havens remaining where a man's mind can get both provocation and privacy. 

Poetry by Joshua Bennett

I have an intimate affair with all things beautifully crafted with words.  Poetry being the pinnacle of it all.  I sketch my own pieces too, I don't fancy posting them publicly so chances are mighty slim that you'd read any of my work here.  However, I will share with you the written mastery of others, quite so often.

[Also, I've been terribly occupied and I extended starting this blog because I felt that I didn't want to blog the odd post every couple of months; and already I've fallen prey to doing so.  I won't whinge about what's been consuming my time, but I'll work at delivering at a more frequent pace.  This is not a fashion/picture/quotes/etc. blog, so I have to dedicate more to writing then just copying and pasting pics and what-nots.  More worthwhile visits, maybe?]

10 Things I Want To Say To A Black Woman by Joshua Bennett watch it here.

A fellow 'twitterer' suggested I pay attention to it months ago after reading my blog and finding that I'm a lover of poetry.  He has since come back to me with a differing opinion, but we'll leave that to the birds.

I was awe-struck.  And thankful because, I've grown to love Joshua's writing and how he delivers and executes his art.

I then watched his performance at the White House Evening of Poetry, Music and Spoken Word, where he received a standing ovation from the President, his First Lady and about 200 guests. In a spoken word and sign language piece, "Tamara's Opus", dedicated to his sister.

Instead of posting another link to a video, which you'd probably stumble upon after watching the aforementioned one.  I will post the poem itself, it is highlighted by asterisks, where Joshua signs these words.

Tamara has never listened to hip hop.
Never danced to the rhythm of raindrops or fallen asleep to a chorus of chirping crickets. She has been Deaf
for as long as I’ve been alive.
And ever since the day I first turned five my father has said:
“Joshua.
Nothing is wrong with Tamara.
*God just makes
some people
different.*”
And at that moment
those nine letters felt like hammers
swung gracefully by unholy hands to shatter my stained glass innocence
into shards that can never be pieced back together
or do anything more than sever the ties between my sister and I. I waited,
was patient numberless years anticipating the second her ears would open like lotuses and allow my sunlight senses to seep into her insides
make her remember
all of those conversations we must have had in heaven back when God handpicked us to be sibling souls centuries ago.
I still remember
her 20th birthday.
Readily recall my awe-struck 11 year old eyes as I watched Deaf men and women of all ages dance in unison to the vibration of speakers booming so loud
that I imagined angels chastising us for disturbing their worship with such beautiful blasphemy.
Until you have seen *a Deaf girl dance, you know
nothing
of passion.*
There was a barricade between us that I never took the time to destroy never even for a moment thought to look up the sign for *sister, for family, for goodbye. I will see you again someday.*
remember the face
of your little brother.
It is only now I see
that I was never willing to put in the extra effort to love her properly.
So as the only person in my family who is not fluent in sign language
I’ve decided to take this time to apologize.
Tamara
*I am sorry
for my silence.*
For true love knows no frequency, and so
I will use these hands to speak volumes that can never be contained within the boundaries of sound waves
I will shout at the top of my fingertips until digits dance and relay these mental messages directly to your soul.
I know
that there is no poem
that can make up for all the time we have lost so
please,
if you can,
*just listen.*

And so it goes...

I can listen to this song many times over.  A friend brought it to my attention, I've probably failed to mention to said friend how much I've grown to love it.

It is originally, a ballad written by Billy Joel in 1983, though only released six years later.  Beautifully crafted, he writes with an understanding many aren't able to.  His is the version I've been familiar with, yet failed to pay it the attention it deserves.

For me it's how simple it is, that makes me love it so.  The King's Singers vocal harmony arrangements just heighten my love for it that much more.  I can, unashamedly, say this song brings me to tears, on the occasion.  The King's Singers choral music is described as "... instantly recognisable for their spot-on intonation, their impeccable vocal blend, the flawless articulation of the text and incisive timing."

Here are the lyrics, made enchanting by The King's Singers:

In every heart there is a room/A sanctuary safe and strong/ To heal the wounds from lovers past/ Until a new one comes along
I spoke to you in cautious tones/ You answered me with no pretense/ And still I feel I said too much/ My silence is my self defense
And every time I've held a rose/ It seems I only felt the thorns/ And so it goes, and so it goes/ And so will you soon I suppose
But if my silence made you leave/ Then that would be my worst mistake/ So I will share this room with you/ And you can have this heart to break
And this is why my eyes are closed/ It's just as well for all I've seen/ And so it goes, and so it goes/ And you're the only one who knows
So I would choose to be with you/ That's if the choice were mine to make/ But you can make decisions too/ And you can have this heart to break/ And so it goes, and so it goes/ And you're the only one who knows

*The rose coloured text are my favourite lyrics in the song.

"Girls!" Does Beyoncé's music rhyme with feminism?

The term "Girl Power" is associated with empowerment.  I know someone who has been described as a powerhouse, as untouchable, exciting, always ahead of the game and simply as the best - her name's Beyoncé Giselle Knowles, her music embodies this supposed empowerment.


This is why I say this:


From her days with Destiny's Child, she has lead the trio in garnering success with female empowering anthems, that girls the world over would sing and dance to.  They gave us Bills, Bills, Bills, Say My Name, Survivor, Independent Women (the track that went on to be the theme song for Charlies' Angels), Bootylicious and Nasty Girls.  Okay, so the last track named could be a contradiction to what I just said, but the song's in fact about girls having to set their standards higher, to be appreciated for what they represent.


I write her name as Bee, well because, the theme of her B'day album was represented with bees.  Others write it as Bey, I dare to be different.  And that's that.


Bee, has won 13 grammys as a solo artist and three as a member of Destiny's Child since the start of her music career.  She writes female-empowerment themed compositions and tours with an all-female band, called Suga Mama.  Her most popular songs are the ones rearing women towards power, worth, strength and independence.  I've read and heard many times of her being likened with a movement of a "new-age feminism", I don't agree with that.


I, personally, don't think Bee's trying to lead a political movement, however, she is well in tune with who and what she represents as a woman.  She has a voice to voice these sentiments and that's what she does.  I see her music as geared more towards creativity than politics and also, I feel that people take her songs too literally.  We shouldn't forget that she's an artist first and foremost, her job is to sell records.  Her success with achieving this has been founded in the "girl power" chants.


Feminism is about the fight for women toward equality, access and diversity.  No song of hers carries a distinct message about that.  Rather, they convey that women can be confident and embrace their sexuality, to take pride in their liberty to make choices concerning their happiness, in relationships mostly.  To enjoy our femininity without compromising on our authority.


Well, her latest offering in Run this World (Girls) is open to interpretation.  Yet, again, if taken literally it can be open to being taken in any and all contexts.  For me, I would say I embrace the song as a chant to running my own world.  A tune that's feel-good, motivation-like.  Not about me prancing around with crazy notions linked with literally running "this motha".


We've been spoiled with many other "girl power" anthems from the beautiful Bee, these include Me, Myself & I, which starts off with "All the ladies if you feel me, help me sing it out..." going on about out being her own best friend and how she'll never disappoint herself.


Then we had Irreplaceable, a very memorable track and so near perfect.  I remember hearing it EVERYWHERE, admittedly, I got sickened by it (I usually do when a song's liked by everyone) but now, years later I can listen to it again and appreciate it for all it's worth.  The music video was also accompanied by the debut appearance of her band, Suga Mama.  A smash-hit, sing-a-long that has become a staple in Bee's tours and live performances.


The dual disc album, gave us simultaneous  releases of If I Were A boy and Single Ladies (Put a ring on it) to demonstrate her dueling personalities.  I don't have the dual disc, mine is the 20 track platinum edition; I absolutely love the album, the ballads on it are breathtaking.
Both tracks were international chart toppers, however, Single Ladies overshadowed the beautifully written narrative.  It won Bee Song of the Year, Best R&B song and Best Female R&B Vocal Performance accolades at the 52nd Annual Grammy Awards.


And now, she's graced us with Run the World (Girls), represented by a video where she and many other ladies grind to popular African dance moves.  It is undeniable that this woman knows how to capture an audience, whether in favour of or not.  Does she represent contemporary feminism?  I'd love to hear your feedback.
I am of the opinion though, that she uses aesthetically and lyrically pleasing calls to female-empowerment, less in a general sense, more so for fulfilment in personal relationships.

I really enjoyed this:

The Measure...

I recently read, The Measure of A Man by Sidney Poitier, peculiar title for a woman to find interest in, right?  Well, I always think that you can never truly understand or know different worlds if you aren't willing to learn about them.  Besides, this autobiography is worthy to be read by anybody and everybody.

Who is Sidney Poitier?  --An actor, director, writer, diplomat, aged somewhere in his eighties.  He won an Academy Award for Best Actor, 1963, for his role in Lilies of the Field and starred in three other well-received films only about four-years later.  Anyway, the man has achieved remarkable accomplishments in his lifetime and is well-honoured too.

Sidney, narrates his memoir so well and in such fine detail that it leaves somebody as inquisitive as me, well satisfied.  I took away many profound lessons from this reading, such as, that sometimes standing up and remaining steadfast in your core set of values and beliefs will earn you the respect you deserve - no matter the length of time it'll take.
That even the little and insignificant holds tons of value.
That love trumps money.
That doubts and depression and feelings of inadequacy are human.
The struggle for balance. Courage. Culture. Religion. Spirituality.
About gratitude, reflection, strength and weakness, lies and truths, pain, joy, illusions and realities, you know, it's filled with many treasures hidden or poignantly revealed.

He mentions being shot down by failure, miraculous joys and wrenching guilts; everything every human experiences at least once in their life.  It's a pleasant and note-worthy mention that this autobiography is not just a recollection of many dates and moments.  It's a story, like any other, with many encounters.

I could quote the book endlessly but I won't bore you, so I'll refrain from doing that.  If you do happen to pass the book in a bookstore, step back, grab it, open it to page 181 - para 3,  here he defines the measure of a man in his own words... goosebumps!

Sidney's success came at a slow and steady rate and that resonated most with me.  I've always had this crazy idea that life could be planned and I'll be able to reach my ambitions at more-or-less the rate I wanted.
Life doesn't measure like that.
It didn't for Sidney.  It isn't for me.
But with a determined spirit, it will pan out as it should.  I still hear the echoes of his life journey and I hope one day when I re-open The Measure of a Man, my life would have measured up too.  And I'll read it then with a sense of reflection, and not with the burden of looking forward.

To lift the heaviness, I'll end off with one of my favourite lines from the book:
"I listened intently until each point had been driven home.  Then I said, "fuck you," in the nicest way I could.