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.

A thought...

I am working on a new poem, but until it is ready for posting, I thought I would share a great poem I found yesterday on poem.com.

Mine

Pain trains an undisciplined mind.

I will end yours if you end mine.
Little feet, little feet are playing Hopscotch among the landmines.
Hope has worked miracles before.

If yours didn't, how can mine?
I could have learned to welcome night,

If only you had been mine.
How dare you put words in God's mouth, Shail?

Why not. He put ashes in mine.
by

Shail D. Patel

Hurricane Homecoming

When the sun shines, we’ll shine togetherTold you I'll be here foreverSaid I'll always be a friendTook an oath I'ma stick it out till the endNow that it's raining more than everKnow that we'll still have each otherYou can stand under my umbrella
-Rhianna

Incredible. The amount of work that comes with my choices causes me to think- incredible. I work at an average sized school. With just over 1,000 students and about 120 faculty and staff members, my school should be a fun and enjoyable place. Sad to say that when I started there six years ago, the most disappointing aspect of the job was the lack of school spirit and “fun things” for kids to do. Instead of simply thumbing my nose and reflecting on my high school days, I decided to jump in and do my part.

Well, unfortunately, my part kept growing and growing. I became yearbook/newspaper/literary magazine teacher/advisor first and then took on class sponsorship. I then was asked to teach drama and coach the academic team. While I no long teach drama, I am still drama club sponsor and am responsible for the school’s one-act competition.

I can liken this past week to a hurricane. Torrents of papers to grade, gusts of student attitude up to fifty feet, and I swear I was hit with several bolts of lightening shot from various administrators and parents. The worst part is that I feel as though the storm is just gearing up to simply shift directions. I think I am in need of a tropical depression right about now.

Let me recap my week:


Wednesday- While I would have loved to be at home for my favorite night of television, I did not leave work until eight. I had play practice and Homecoming Hallway decoration planning.

Thursday- Homecoming Hallway decorations and shopping for the senior tailgate and Homecoming dance ate up this day. Afterward, I went to see a local school’s performance of Fortress. I really loved the play!

Friday- Again, we had play practice and hallway decorations and following all of that, my senior class had a tailgate for our first football game.

And today was our Homecoming Hallway Decoration day. The seniors started at 6:30 and ended at 4:00! Each class competes with Homecoming decorations, class banners, a float, spirit link sales, and a powderpuff game.

Yes, the storm rages on, but I can handle it. I teach some great kids and they have me covered with their Umbrella (shout out “07!).

I became a teacher because I love my content area and because I love helping people realize that they are infinitely larger than they realize. We have no boundaries other than those that we impose on ourselves and I guess I realize this now more than ever.

September 08, 2007- The Weekly Geography of my Life

The Mountain: The hands down highlight of this week has been working with my One Act cast. Performing the play, Catholic School girls, I am fortunate enough to work with seven amazingly talented young women who are dedicated to this performance. The practices are inspiring to say the least. I have no idea how we will fare in competition, but our public performance on November 1 should not be missed.

The Valley: I am exhausted. I am tired beyond belief and I have not been able to get rested. There is a problem. Maybe I have restless leg syndrome.

This week:
I am reading: Still reading American Pastoral by Philip Roth. The book is awesome thus far, but I have yet to truly get into it. I love Philip Roth, so I am saving the bulk of the novel for next week’s vacation.I am listening to: Brittany Spear’s new single, Gimme More. Yes, “I still believe, too (for Elizabeth in Catholic School Girls)” and I am hoping Brittany can beat the odds and make a comeback.

I am watching: Papers pile up all around me. I have so many papers to grade and work to file that I could not watch anything of worth last week.
I am looking forward to: Next week is a week off from school. I am having a “work-day, catch-up day” on Thursday, but I am in desperate need of rest and relaxation!

Emo Kirk

Loving is an ordinary act
like running bath water
or cutting green blades of grass.
These feelings can lead to more—
a towering explosion of ice.

There are arms wrapped in lace,
and rose petals on sleeping eyes.

I am going insane with rage.

I’ll love you—
hurl myself down 1000 flights.
I’ll love you—
fling myself in great light.

I won’t let go-
pull your head underwater.
We’ll see starfish, glowfish,
and long, electric eels.

Kissing is an ordinary act
like paint peeling or blood clotting.
Ash falls after war.
It blankets what remains.

I’ll kiss you—
wash your hair, your hands, and your feet;
I’ll live for you and your low voice of love
and for you I’ll be and be and be.

Kissing is an ordinary act
like living and breathing and dying alone.
Love eats from the inside out,
taking its time to inhibit what would otherwise heal.

I’ll walk alone, never look back.
I’ll sing loudly, scream and shout.
I’ll die for you, your touch, your words.
I’ll die for you, the chance to be eaten alive,
even if it means I’ll die alone,
even if it means I’ll never heal.

Love will eat me alive.