The Exploitation of Pretty

I first heard about the participation of former MSU alumni, Juan McCullum, in the reality television series, I Love New York 2, this past summer. Initially, I was surprised that Juan would participate in such a program, but I quickly saw the shrewdness of this decision. A current student at Mississippi College’s School of Law, Juan has big dreams and starring on I Love New York 2 is a step in making those dreams a reality.

Since starring in the program, numerous bloggers and myspacers and facebookers have made comments about Juan. I feel as though I would be remiss if I did not comment on the man I knew while attending MSU.

Juan McCullum is a power-house of ambition and determination—pure and simple. He’s a fellow Scorpio, so in many ways, it is expected. Juan is also a fierce and savvy competitor. Former Vice-President of the MSU Student Association, and MSU Resident Assistant, Juan was involved at MSU and laid a great foundation for future students of color. Attached in a link from the MSU Reflector that details Juan’s platform while running for school office in 2004: http://media.www.reflector-online.com/media/storage/paper938/news/2004/03/26/News/Juan-Mccullum.Profile-2538036.shtml

From an honest perspective, the thing that riles me most about the numerous attacks on Juan’s character is I personally know how difficult it was for him to successfully navigate life at Mississippi State. Juan did what only four other students of color were able to do in my time as a bulldog and that is win a school-wide election.

While Mississippi State (and Mississippi in general) is nothing like the stereotypical portrayals perpetuated in films like Mississippi Burning, self-segregation and both classist and racial (not racist) thinking still dominate the social decisions of some. All students at MSU may bleed maroon and white (I do, too) but some still see things in black and white.

A former president of the Black Student Association and former Opinion editor of the school newspaper, I made the identification of these racial issues a primary focus and was overjoyed the day Juan, another African American made student, won VP of SA. I supported Juan then and I support Juan now.

From what I understand Juan may have desires to be a model or act. With his fierce determination and tenacity, I am sure he will achieve this goal and I will be supporting him still.

Resting

The start of the holiday season is finally here. While many of my fellow bloggers are hitting the road to be with family and friends, I always take the Thanksgiving holiday as a time to catch up on my self.

Thanksgiving always comes at the perfect time. I am exhausted: physically, emotionally, and mentally. I needed this break desperately.

Over my week, I watched Oprah and Project Runway. I overdosed on news and magazines and Fruity Peebles. I saw American Gangster.
I finished reading American Pastoral.

I am now reading We Were the Mulvaneys by Joyce Carol Oates.

I plan to sleep in (as I have done each day). Grade something (I have stacks and stacks of essays to plow through). Watch the Green Bay Packers whip up on the Lions and jump from house to house, eating whatever looks most delicious.

My friends Jason and Maria are hosting game night at their house after dinner and I plan to end the day there. I am bringing “Are You Smarter Than a 5th Grader?” and a bottle of Riesling.

This thanksgiving, I am very thankful for many things, but I can honestly say I most thankful for a moment to simply lie down and rest.

New Rain

I work the rice fields with my mother.
Father works cane.
We wait for the rain, praying
and hoping for full heavy clouds.
It will come and we will dance
and we will be new like the rain.

When the rain comes, we will rejoice.
We will have revival at the Apostolic church
down by the creek.
We will shout Halleluiah! Praise God!
and then cry out to Jesus to be saved.

Our fathers will come home and machetes will be
placed in leather sheaths on the shelves
by our pictures of Aristade.
Our mothers will be happy,
give us sugar rags and candied spoons.

We will have carnivals in the streets.
We will sing Creole, not French.
Our grandfathers will beat the voodoo drums,
our sisters will shake rattles, and our
brothers will blow bamboo trumpets.

Our mothers will fry yams and plantains in coconut oil.
We will drink rum and eat papaya slices.

Rain will fall in heavy drops and kiss our dancing heads.
We will shout and scream and play.
We will delight in the rain.
We will dance in it, eat it.

But rain comes slowly
moving hard like suns.
Clouds won’t break.
Thunder won’t sound.
We beat the drums, say our prayers,
but clouds won’t break
and days go on and on.
The rice is hard and hurts, but must be harvested.
There is no rest, no dancing, no delight.

There are no yams and plantains, no heavy chickens.
Just rice and cane and ground corn meal.

But the rains will come and we will dance
and we will be new like the rain.