As 2011 comes to a close, I'm happy and sad at the same time. Most of all, I'm filled with hope and optimism. Yes, hope and optimism, even in these trying times.
I'm happy about some of the political developments I've seen, political awakenings among the have-nots -- the Arab Spring, the Occupy Movement. I'm sad for the brilliant people we lost -- Professor Derrick Bell, Teena Marie, Heavy D, Amy Winehouse, Vesta. And I'm optimistic and filled with hope simply because of my garage.
My garage is a metaphor for me.
I started the process of cleaning out my garage back in August, and I didn't finish in time for winter as I had planned. In the process of going through over 30-plus years' worth of stuff, I came across old awards, grades, evaluations of me as a student and as a teacher, term papers, and columns I wrote when I was president of a minority bar association. One of my writing professors from a summer program I was in stated that I was a hard-working perfectionist who, in his estimation, would indeed reach perfection in her writing. Some of the evaluations from my law students stung, others inspired me. A letter of gratitude from a federal judge about whom I'd written a letter to the editor defending him and one of his most controversial decisions brought a smile to my face. I even found a treasure trove of piano books from my teen years, with pieces by Rachmaninoff and Chopin that I can barely read now but had mastered a long time ago. I've also discovered treasures large and small, pictures of long-lost friends, letters from deceased ones -- I even had a letter from Professor Derrick Bell saying that he had decided to move on from full-time law teaching to pursue his new passion -- writing. It buoyed my spirit.
It came to me that my garage is a metaphor for me. My garage, like me, holds hidden or forgotten treasures. Just as my garage houses unopened wedding presents, pictures, and all sorts of things that have the potential to make my still-unsettled house a home, I still hold the potential, hidden or forgotten, to reach goals I'd long ago given up or forgotten about on due to my age or lack of prior success, confidence, or focus.
So my one and only resolution for 2012 is to explore my hidden or forgotten potential and use it to reach goals I'd forgotten or given up on, even if I'm only taking small steps towards those goals.
Here's to my potential and yours, gentle readers. Happy New Year!
Showing posts with label Teena Marie. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Teena Marie. Show all posts
Teena Marie: She Was Us
I was shocked to hear of Teena Marie's passing. Just as there are those who will always believe that Elvis, Tupac and Biggie are still alive, I'm one of those who will always believe this: Teena Marie was black. Blacker than me.
Yes, I saw video of her mother on TV One's "Unsung." Yes, I've seen her perform on television numerous times. I just refuse to believe that a white woman could talk, sing, and move in the world the way she did and still be white. If we as black people could give honorary black status to anyone, Teena Marie would have been at the top of the list. But we wouldn't have thought she needed such status. She was us.
She didn't imitate R&B and hip-hop; she was R & B and hip-hop. She wasn't like us; she was us. Teena Marie could have used the N-word and I don't think a single black person would have flinched. She earned that right, if for no other reason, for putting up with Rick James' mess as long as she did and not turning away from us because of it.
It is because of her rap in "Square Biz" that I learned about Sarah Vaughn. I didn't realize until I was older that she was praising through imitation Sarah Vaughn's phrasing when she sang, "I'm. . . .talk. . . ing . . . square biz . . . I'mtalkingsquarebiztoyooooo . . ." Who else but a black woman could write a rhyme that sent up praises to Bach, Shakespeare, Maya Angelou and Nikki Giovanni in the same rhyme?
Teena Marie, that's who.
She lead the way -- no, blazed the way -- for so many female singer-songwriter-producers. She fought Motown and Berry Gordy and won, making legal precedent for artists so that record companies could not refuse to release their records while holding them hostage to their contracts. That she had the balls to go up against Motown near its apex and win speaks volumes.
But the moment I became absolutely certain that Teena Marie was black was when she was asked during the "Unsung" episode what she was most proud of and she replied, "My child." A black woman could be elected president, win the Nobel Peace Prize, and broker peace in the Middle East, but if you were to ask her what she's most proud of, she'd still say, "My child."
I will miss Teena Marie, but I will also celebrate her through her music. Our music. Because she was us.
And I don't care what anybody says, that sistah was black.
Yes, I saw video of her mother on TV One's "Unsung." Yes, I've seen her perform on television numerous times. I just refuse to believe that a white woman could talk, sing, and move in the world the way she did and still be white. If we as black people could give honorary black status to anyone, Teena Marie would have been at the top of the list. But we wouldn't have thought she needed such status. She was us.
She didn't imitate R&B and hip-hop; she was R & B and hip-hop. She wasn't like us; she was us. Teena Marie could have used the N-word and I don't think a single black person would have flinched. She earned that right, if for no other reason, for putting up with Rick James' mess as long as she did and not turning away from us because of it.
It is because of her rap in "Square Biz" that I learned about Sarah Vaughn. I didn't realize until I was older that she was praising through imitation Sarah Vaughn's phrasing when she sang, "I'm. . . .talk. . . ing . . . square biz . . . I'mtalkingsquarebiztoyooooo . . ." Who else but a black woman could write a rhyme that sent up praises to Bach, Shakespeare, Maya Angelou and Nikki Giovanni in the same rhyme?
Teena Marie, that's who.
She lead the way -- no, blazed the way -- for so many female singer-songwriter-producers. She fought Motown and Berry Gordy and won, making legal precedent for artists so that record companies could not refuse to release their records while holding them hostage to their contracts. That she had the balls to go up against Motown near its apex and win speaks volumes.
But the moment I became absolutely certain that Teena Marie was black was when she was asked during the "Unsung" episode what she was most proud of and she replied, "My child." A black woman could be elected president, win the Nobel Peace Prize, and broker peace in the Middle East, but if you were to ask her what she's most proud of, she'd still say, "My child."
I will miss Teena Marie, but I will also celebrate her through her music. Our music. Because she was us.
And I don't care what anybody says, that sistah was black.
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