Guest Blogger, Kamal Fizazi: A Letter to Friend About Hope and Survival

New York, NY
1 April 2012

Habibi,

I found out today that a friend killed himself a few days ago.

His death makes me sad and makes me think how sad I would be if I lost you and felt I had not done as much as I possibly could to help you.

I love you and I hope you are ok.

Over the years, especially recently, you have spoken to me about your severe anxiety, depression, PTSD and other issues, and about wanting—at times—to kill yourself.

I have tried to be a good friend, to listen and, when you asked for it, give you names of therapists and other resources that could help you address these issues.

We haven’t spoken in a few weeks, so maybe you are feeling great these days and I am worried for nothing. If this is the case, I am very happy for you.

After losing my friend Tony, I can’t be silent. I have to ask: Have you followed up and sought help for the issues bringing you such pain?

If not, I beg you, call one of those therapists whose names I shared with you a few weeks back (after your request to me), or to seek help in other ways.

Even if you are feeling good these days—especially if you are feeling good—now is the time to do something about all this, while it is easier to take steps that connect you to support that will help you survive the times when you are not feeling so happy.

If you are feeling down these days, I still urge you to seek help. I know how hard it can be to seek help when we are down, you know I know this, but I still hope you will try. It could save your life. Just as importantly, it could help turn it around.

I keep learning and still have to keep reminding myself that nothing in life is permanent. Not joy and not pain. LIFE is not permanent! But it does not have to be painful. We may have to do some hard work to make things better, but things can get better.

As you know, I use Surat al-Asr as my mantra in times of loss, pain, confusion, and fear. This Qur’anic prayer tells me: Time itself is a witness, all humanity experiences loss and pain, except for those who have faith, do good works (or are of service), and live as an example of honesty and as an example of patience (and forbearance).

I’ve shared this with you before, and this painful reminder is impetus to share it with you again.

My friend Tony is dead, and I am still here.

I do not know why, but I do know this has been one of the resources that got me through those terrifyingly bleak times when I considered doing what Tony did.

How does this simple yet powerful prayer work for me? As any mantra, repeating it means I change the tape in my head from whatever terrible tape to this pre-recorded, familiar, repetition. In that way it functions like any prayer or ritual in which we can seek refuge.

But this prayer is pragmatic in other ways too.

It comforts me by reminding me that my pain and suffering is not something I alone endure—“The Ages witness: all humanity experiences suffering”—and it gives me practical steps I can take, solutions to my pain, loss, and confusion:

Faith (Imaan)
The prayer directs me to have faith. To me this means making a choice to believe things can get better, even that a specific someone or Something loves us. Sometimes I have had to simply trust that this was true even when I doubted it deeply or didn’t feel it. But then, that is why it is called "faith." :) Sometimes it has been faith in, belief in, someone other than myself, someone who told me things do get better. At those moments, again, I did not believe it was true, but I could believe my friend believed it, and, ”borrow” her faith. At times it has meant a faith in a Divinity, Most Merciful and Most Compassionate, Greater than any trouble I might face, an Everlasting (internal) Resource any one of us can tap into, in times of loss or not.


Service (Saalihaat)
The prayer suggests that I do good works, that I be of service. I take this to mean reach out and help a friend or volunteer in an effort to improve my community. Doing something good for others gets my focus off my problems. When I do this, I shift the focus from the running commentary and obsessive concern with my own problems to the world outside my head. This liberates me from the not-so-merry-go-round of nasty thoughts *in* my head (that nasty committee that never has anything nice to say to me about me). There is always someone can use our help, so why not shift the focus from our complaints to gratitude and to service? Let us improve the world we find ourselves in! It sorely needs it. And we end up feeling better about ourselves because we are doing something positive in the world, rather than feeling stuck in, or focused on, our pain, fear, and confusion.

Honesty (Al-Haq)
The prayer suggests that I live as an example of honesty and truth. What this means to me is that I am supposed to walk through my fears and be rigorously honest with myself and others about my fears and the reality (or falseness) of them. Living as an example of honesty means letting go of my fantasies or the narratives I spin about how things are. When I am truly honest, I can see what I can change and what really needs to change. I also see what is not in my power and how, if I have no power over it, it makes no sense to spend time worrying about it. You know what I mean: If I have a role to play or choices that could be different, I can do that, if I can’t, well, then I can’t. Talk about freedom! Living a life of honesty and truth also means unburdening myself with someone I trust about what I have done or am doing, or what I am feeling, all of which helps me not live in shame, secrecy, or fear. This frees me from carrying the burden of my troubles all by myself. Living honestly and in truth also means removing that awkward, painful, conflict and stress that arises when I say one thing (to be polite or because I am avoiding a confrontation), but I really mean or want to say another. This type of honesty also can be daunting, but it too sets me free.


Patience (Sabr)
Lastly, the prayer says I am to try to live as an example of patience and forbearance (while facing all my troubles). This to me means, “Don't give up.” Ever. It is a reminder that things get better. Things change. The hard work we can do (therapy or whatever path we choose) takes time. We didn't get into our mess and messed up way of thinking overnight. We won't get out of them overnight. We have to give time time. I know the despair can be all-encompassing, I have felt it. But I also have learned—as I am sure you have too—that I am strong in patience. No matter what troubles that befall me, even when despair feels like a reality convincing me to my bones, something that I feel as if I KNOW will always be my reality, I can be patient. I can wait the pain out. It too will pass.

Trust me. Things do get better, if we do our work and we are willing to wait.

Things have gotten better for me, and I promise they can get better for you too.

Love, Light, & Peace,
Kamal

P.S. I would add one more thing to all my fabulous (& unsolicited) advice above (): Music. I know you love music. And that’s great, because music moves us, changes our mood, reminds us things get better (and have been better). Here are some of my favorites that have so far worked to get me through some pretty tough times:
“I Look to You” http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tYFfmFeFGZg&feature=related as sung by Whitney Houston (RIP) or the GLEE version with Amber Riley, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BQgO5TtBF6g
A soft strumming song I just recently discovered, by City and Colour, “O’ Sister” http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gi-crVagUok&feature=youtu.be
“It’s a Beautiful Day [don’t let it get away]” http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=co6WMzDOh1o by U2
“Feeling Good” by Michael Bublé, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Edwsf-8F3sI&ob=av2e, or the Nina Simone version, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oHs98TEYecM
“I Am Changing” by Jennifer Hudson, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nYuFvu2gdFU

P.P.S. What are your favorite songs to get you through tough times?

Bio: Kamal Fizazi is a writer, activist, lawyer, policy wonk, strategic planning and program consultant, and all-around good guy who spends his time thinking about and working on issues of human rights and equality, diversity and inclusion, democracy and social justice, equity, gender, sexuality, public health, HIV/AIDS, addiction, mental health, recovery, faith-based anti-oppression efforts and interfaith organizing, and Lord only knows what else.

You can follow Kamal on facebook: https://www.facebook.com/kamalfizazi or on twitter: @kamalfizazi. You can also read his blogs on http://izazif.wordpress.com and http://wholooksinsideawakens.blogspot.com.


Additional notes and links:

Suicide claims 36,500 lives yearly in the USA; close to one million attempt it each year.

Suicide Prevention & Support:
http://www.suicidepreventionlifeline.org/GetHelp/Default.aspx
http://www.thetrevorproject.org/
http://veteranscrisisline.net/
http://www.suicidepreventionlifeline.org/
http://www.samaritansnyc.org/
http://www.afsp.org/

Solidarity & Fundraising:
http://www.outofthedarkness.org/

If You Believe

I was born with an abundance of faith.

In a world, in a life, in a childhood, in a journey that would have destroyed, and rightfully so, the faith of some...the fact that I have survived, thrived, and been surrounded by the greatest gifts of love any man could receive and more than most will ever receive has proven the presence of God/Community/Love/Faith in my life.

I have always been afraid of calm. Stability has terrified me. Peace has been my kryptonite. Joy was for someone else. Happiness was temporary. Crisis was comofrtable. Pain was deserved. Misery was my comfort blanket.

No more. No more. No more.

I repeat.

No more.

Right now, I am sitting here, in my apartment on a Saturday afternoon. Lena Horne is playing. She is singing Stormy Weather and If You Believe.

"If you believe, within your heart, you'll know. No one can change the path that you must go."

I have walked a path. My sweet Lord Jesus, have I walked a path. The earliest paving stones were laid down for me. They twisted my feet and bowed my knees, and they had me walk bowlegged into my early adulthood...and it has taken a long as time to straighten them out. I still walk from side to side now and again. Sometimes I have a limp, and sometimes I trip over my own feet, but damn if I haven't taken Thor's Hammer to the street in front of me, shattered the crooked ways and grabbed the twisted path and shaken it until it lays straight...ish.

Hot damn Miss Lena could sing the panties off the Virgin Mary.

In the Litany of the Saints of the Common Man, Saint Lenam, Our Lady of Peace and Fierceness, has sometimes sung me through some ugly places.

Today she is singing me a different song.

"Believe what you feel, and know you are right because the time will come around when you'll say it's yours. Believe that you can go home. Believe you can float on air!"

Float? I am flying. I am flying. I am flying through this world, and I have been lifted up and hung on the wind by all ya'll. By the teachers that encouraged me all throughout out school, by my family--especially my Grandpa Carey and my Honey Bun, by a community of friends that stretches from Norway to Los Angeles---from Troll Baby who once told me that it was ok for me to be small (maybe no other words, short of I Love You, have meant more to me in my entire life)...to David Berube who taught me that I deserved to be loved....to Keith who has walked many of the paths I have walked and saw past the masks....to all of the amazing human beings that have been angels in my life. Angels, if you believe, walk amongst us each and every day.

And I want to single out Mr. Kamal Fizazi without whom I wouldn't be sitting here typing this. I love you my friend.

I am walking the right road for me now...and I will not wander from its path. The Universe reminds me each and every day that I am doing justice by myself...and when you do justice by yourself...you are a light for justice in the world.

I have much gratitude and this note is just to say thank you to you all for believing in me.

Ashe.

Let's Be Real

If you don't believe in God--bless your heart. I respect your belief, I support your right to believe it, and for those of you that need material proof of God's existence (He/She/It/Them/They) and haven't received it, I trust your perception of material proof as it applies to your life.

And for all of that, I am psychically, physically, mentally, and spiritually unable to understand your experience. I have always believed in God. I have never had a crisis of faith based in doubt of the existence of the Divine. Please do not get me wrong, I have spent a good part of my life cussing God out for everything from bad dates to my junior year class pictures (please see exhibit A, the offending picture, posted here for your amusement--no...that is NOT the missing third Indigo Girl). And when it comes to proof, I have enough empirical data to make a Nobel Laureate blush. Dr. Erik Streed, the closest person I know to a Nobel Laureate (his graduate advisor won the Nobel Prize in Physics based on the research they did together when Erik was a lab slave) might poo poo my "loose" definition of "empirical," he would be forced to admit that either there is a greater force at work in the universe or there is a yet undiscovered sub-sub-sub-sub atomic particle that he will discover by putting frozen Kool-AID into the CERN Accelerator and adding a dash of lime just as the collider reaches energy output of 3.5 TeV per beam, which he will then redirect using a kaleidoscope while singing "Grease Lightning," and mimicking the mating ritual of the Pakootiekootie bird, which, incidentally, he, himself, discovered in the fossil record and then, using leftover skin cells from Joan Rivers' last face lift, a section of skin from Carnie Wilson's latest gastric bypass, a dash of leftover love lube from a secret butter bath romp between Oprah and Gayle, and an Eggo Waffle, proceeded to clone the Pakootiekootie.

All of that to say is that I am right. Erik is wrong. God exists. Now let me tell you why.

I tried to relapse today with all of my might. I mean short of selling my ass for drugs or training Mimzy to run a meth lab out of her kennel, I gave it the good old addicts try. And let me tell you it was sneaky. Hold on to this trip into the the Misfiring Synapses of Brandon's Frontal Lobe. David and I are moving our open relationship in to a broader scope. I have actually been really proud of myself for not completing giving in to my abandonment issues or losing my mind over things that a year ago would have had me calling on the name of Jesus and raising the TSA security level to whatever the hell comes after orange. But there have been things that have stuck in my craw (and rightfully so). Last night, I couldn't fall asleep because my brain was desperately trying to figure out what the hell was at the core of my discomfort/annoyance/etc. Around 3am, I figured it out. This morning, I didn't trip. And after a rocky moment or two, David and I had a sleepy, half-finished, but ok conversation.

Still with me? Good.

I actually recently dealt really well with am online situation here at home. And we laughed about it. But today is where the synapses were listening to Katy Perry and took that song Fireworks quite literally. So, I figured...hey... I can look at Craig's List. Well, since i am looking at Craig's List, I might as well look at Manhunt. Oh well since this gay with a delicious booty messaged me on Manhunt, and I am on Manhunt anyway, I might as well read the email. Well since I am READING the email, I might as well respond. Oh. wait. what. You are partying (aka crystal meth), well I can entertain that notion. Well, you know, just because I go meet this guy at his place and there is crystal meth there doesn't mean that I have to do it. It was right about there...just after I got out of the shower and had gotten dressed and was about to head out the door that the Lord took a hand. I decided to call the guy just to firm things up. And he didn't answer. I called again, and again, and about 40 more times, until the guy shut down his phone. I was stomping around my house cussing and kicking and screaming and pissed off. I was acting a fool, but in my head, it was all very justified and logical. It wasn't about the drugs! It was about this person that would have had me standing outside of his front door and not answered. It was about the lack of manners and the general upbringing of this heathen with the great ass.

Here's where God intervened again.

I caught myself in the mirror, and at that moment I realized just how ridiculous I was acting. I had rationalized myself about a minute away from doing something really fucking dumb (in the past, I would have realized it, and I would have kept right on going. Hell, YESTERDAY, I would have realized it and kept right on going). And let me not be the saint here. I did, once I calmed myself down, sit back down at the computer and spend about five minutes checking out Manhunt and seeing if there were any other opportunities that could get me out the door and high. That is when two things happened. I slammed down the cover of my computer, walked towards the bathroom and chanted to myself, "FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT."

Then I prayed.

The Lord didn't answer. He texted.

Rude.

Actually, it was a friend of mine that lives in my hood, and he texted to tell me that he had just gotten laid off. Within one minute another friend texted to ask if I would go with him to Callen Lorde to get an HIV test done. It may not have been Jesus per se on the line, but the Lord works in mysterious ways, and he spent all that time with 12 men in the desert, so it makes sense that he would use the gays as his post-crucifixtion messenger. GayT&T!!

Nothing like a dose of real for real life problems to put your momentary psychosis into check. And all of this ties into another God-moment I had recently.

Last Friday, I got to see a woman that I love deeply and dearly. Her name is Makeeba Browne. Keeba and I lived together for only about four months when I was out in Oakland. We moved into our house a day apart. She was going through some things when she moved in. She had just moved to the Bay. She had lost someone very close to her not more than a year before. She was black woman in a white ass world, and she had carried a lot on her shoulders. Some of that was those things that life puts on us that aren't really ours but we have to carry and learn to set down anyway. Some of it was things that she picked up because, well, too many of us learn that we were meant to suffer. During our time together, I was also a hot mess, do not let me tell all her tea and none of mine. But if you scroll back in this blog, you can read mine, in detail, with footnotes. Anyway, I digress. Over the course of those four months I learned several things about Makeeba: 1) she was absolutely beautiful beyond her own comprehension. Real, true, amazing beauty. 2) Behind her beautifully sharp tongue there was a beautifully vulnerable spirit that, if you made the mistake of confusing vulnerability with weakness, would snap your neck if necessary. 3) She was wise. Like old old old ancestor wise and deeper than I can ever hope to be. I am not being self-deprecating here. This girl is wise like still rivers that run deep, chocolate brown currents and sensual eddies that whisper gettin' over stories to Guinea-children. I have moments of clarity, but Makeeba is one of my teachers. 4) I loved this woman desperately. There is a story I won't share, but she will know that there was one night that we spent together, and she may have thought that I was comforting and taking care of her, but that night, in her rawness, she was holding on to me and lifting me up. For real for real.

So, Keeba and I met for breakfast last Friday. Seeing her walking down that street was like seeing the sunlight finally come to understand its own brightness. Keeba always dazzles me. But this day, I was almost blinded. Keeba ain't no saint. Lord no she aint, and she inherited the same hoochie gene that I got, but even when she is not ready to DO the work she knows she needs to do within herself...she KNOWS it needs to be done. And I could see that this woman had been WORKING. At one point in our conversation, Keebers said something really profound. I can't remember the exact words, but it was something like, "I know that I am supposed to be here. I know that the universe wants me here. Because try as I might to take myself out of Creation and do what I am not supposed to be doing. The Universe takes care of me! The UNIVERSE takes care of me.' And she was right. She and I have found ourselves in situations that, quite frankly, if they had gone the wrong way would have meant that we wouldn't be here right now. That isn't an exaggeration. If the Universe had closed its unsleeping eye for a quick minute, I woulnd't be writing this blog right now. And let me tell you, when it comes to addiction, I have lost people I know to this disease. I can name three people that I went to rehab with that are now dead. And, truthfully, there ain't a lick of difference between what they were doing and what I have done. Situation might be different. Particulars might be different, but in the end, the risks were the same. And anyone that plays Roulette can tell you...when your number hits twice in a row...and then another number hits twice in a row back to back....that right there...is the finger of God spinning that wheel. And we never know when they are going to call a change of dealer.

Interview with a Comic Diva Part Deux: Yamaneika Saunders

A little over a year ago, I met a a beautiful and hilarious woman by the name of Yamaneika Saunders. A year ago August, I published my first interview with this sexy, sassy, no holds bar maven of the microphone. Over the last year, though I have not gotten to see her as much as I would like, I have gotten to know her better, and I love everything about this human being. From her art to her heart, I am a true blue fan of this gem of a stand up comedienne. Yama is an inspiration to me, and I am very happy to present this new interview with her.

Thank you to Yama for providing this very real, very straight up (no pun intended) conversation.


1. You have a keen and vivid sense of the political, talk about how your art as a comedian and your incisive political wit cross? How does your politics as a back woman inform how you choose your topics for your comedy?

Whether I like it or not, I am grouped into this "angry black woman" category, for the sheer fact that I'm loud, black, big and female - so right off the bat there are going to be generalizations. I take it in stride. I am definitely trying to carve out my own unique voice, in hopes that the world will see I'm not defined by my sub-culture.

It's important for me to take on certain topics, as well as, trying to veer from being marginalized and characterized by my physical identity.

2. A few months ago, you thought about giving up on comedy. Let me first say that I am damn glad that you didn't, but can you talk a little bit about what brought you to the point of making that decision? You decided to continue gifting us with laughter, can you talk about why you choose to keep doing stand up?

Well, its still part of the plan for me to take a break. The reason is not that I don't love comedy, I just don't love the business of comedy. I'm always going to be a performer, its in my blood, but if I can't use my gift to save a life or change one then I'm failing. So, its quite possible you might see me make a switch into the ministry very soon. I can tell jokes from the pulpit.

3. We are in a recession, duh, how has that impacted your work as a comedian? And, in this climate, who, if anyone, of your peers is "making it?"

The recession affects the city, a lot, because people want to keep tight with the purse and the clubs want to make money so there are requirements when you come to shows. I try to make it worth everyone's wild when they come and see me, trust me no one is going to say "I wasted money on that show" even if I'm the only person who does well that night, I give 100% and its often times is enough to overshadow a bad night overall (that sounds cocky, but I'm keeping it real) that's not to say I don't have my moments but after being the game so long they are few and far between.

I'm not sure who is making it, we all get opportunities and they seem like they are gong to pan into something, but you just never know. Most of my peers in this game have set such a high standard for "making it" that I think when everyone knows our name we feel like we are "making it". I sometimes get a little ahead of myself because I'll go out to a club and I'll be surprised when someone says "Oh, I saw you at this place or that place" and I'm like "Really? You remember me?"

4. You have an amazing spirit and an obvious strength. Where does that come from? How do you re-energize yourself and keep yourself moving forward?

Thank you, for saying that! It's tough because I as an individual am very weak, in my opinion; the fortitude that I have is from God, without Him I wouldn't even wake up out of the bed. He keeps telling me He has me in His arms, so I step out on faith. My mother also keeps me grounded. She is always reminding me to be strong and stay positive. I have a good friend system too, even though I fight with all my friends and alienate them, the ones who stick around keep me tough, they don't take the shit from me so I can't take it from myself. So, by the time people see me on stage I've been picked up by all the above.

The audience also keeps my strong. I am super sensitive and I have so much I want to say to people, jolt them into reality that life is hard but so the fuck what?! Don't let a person treat you like shit. Don't accept shit! Those are my messages, so when I get on stage I just want to shout and yell and tell everyone FUCK IT ALL LETS LAUGH!

5. You have a show coming up on tonight at Comix in NYC...how can folks get tickets? Where else can they see you? What else do you have coming up?

Yes, the show at Comix is a hot one! Its been a minute since I've been back in the city, and since I go on the road often I sometimes don't get the chance to really get on at some of the clubs like I could, so its great when I'm able to do such a prestigious club like Comix.

The show starts at 9 PM Oct 28th, which is tonight. Tickets are $20, but anyone who mentions my name at the door gets a $5 discount. So, come out!

Queer Allies to Muslims Ramadan Fast

I woke up this morning at 5:20am. The sky was just lightening, and David stumbled past me as I was squinting over a sesame seed bagel, trying to quietly apply butter to it, while Mimzy the Dog shook her head and tried to will me to drop the entire bagel situation on the floor.

Ramadan Mubarak!

Today is the first day of Ramadan a time of fasting, celebration, good works, and renewal in the Muslim community. It is a time to reflect on your life, let go of worldly obsessions, intensify your relationship with God, and build community. During this time, Muslims around the world gather before sunrise and after sunset for communal meals (Sahur and Iftar) and celebration. And, from sunrise to sunset, the Muslim community fasts: Muslims neither eat nor drink, unless physical or health needs dictate otherwise.

I am not a Muslim nor is my family, but this year I am participating in the Ramadan fast as an act of solidarity with the Muslim community. And I am asking all queer folks that are able to also join me in this act of support and unity with our queer Muslim family and the Muslim community as a whole.

I wrote an open letter two days ago to Mike DiSanto, an openly gay candidate for New York State Senate, who chose to use Islamophobia and anti-Muslim sentiment to further his political career (specifically his statement was against Cordoba House mosque which will be near Ground Zero). His actions were shameful and reflect extremely poorly on the queer community. In an effort to demonstrate to the broader Muslim community and specifically to our queer Muslim brothers and sisters, that not all members of the queer community are Islamophobes, I chose to commit myself to this fast for the month of Ramadan and to ask others to join me as well.

I am not as tough as some of my beloved Muslim family of choice, so I will be drinking water and juice during the day. Since announcing this call via Facebook, a number of folks have also signed up to participate and/or announced their spiritual support of our solidarity work even though, for health reasons, they themselves cannot participate. If you are interested, please consider signing up for our Facebook group.

This solidarity action is an act of love, and it is also an act of bridge building. The queer community often slams people of faith due to the many atrocities committed in the name of God. Yet, many of us are people of faith and understand that actions taken in the name of God and religion are actions of misguided and hateful human beings and not the fault of faith itself.

No major religion on the planet can claim a wholly peaceful history. Muslims, Hindus, Jews, Christians, and other faiths all have had evil and terrible works done in their name and often times in direct contradiction to the core of the teachings of the particular faiths. Murder in the name of Christ, jihad in the name of Allah, apartheid and oppression of Palestinians in the name of the Jewish faith, partition in India, Hindu fundamentalists, all of these are historical actions by human beings using faith as an excuse to exercise power. None of these actions are because of the faith itself. And we all know of tremendous people and acts of justice done because of an understanding and deep commitment to the love and peace at the core of each of these religions. We venerate heroes like Malcolm X, Mahatma Gandhi, Martin Luther King, Jr, Susan B. Anthony, and so many others that were all people of faith.

And, frankly, we found out first hand what happens when the queer community discounts or ignores people of faith: Proposition 8. We lost that electoral fight because the enemies of the queer community knew that they needed to reach out and build bridges with folks that would normally not be their allies. The religious conservative right made intentional connections to African-American and Latino communities. For 20 years they reached out, provided support, created dialogue, and brought them into their way of thinking. And even though we all understand that the religious right could actually care less about people of color and our struggles for liberation, they understand exactly how to build with a community around an issue and find common ground in order to do so.

This fast in solidarity with the Muslim community, for me, is to recognize my commonality with Muslims as a person of faith. It is to create intentional connections and support of a community that is under siege. It is to demonstrate through action that queer people and queer people of faith support the Cordoba House project and see it for what it is: an act of generosity, vision, and community building originating in the Muslim community but benefiting the entire Lower Manhattan area and the people that live therein. And, this solidarity fast is an act of being an ally without asking for anything in return. My hope is that over the long term by showing my respect and honor for the Muslim community and Islam that, in time, I will participate in a shift in attitude that will create more and stronger support for my queer Muslim family. It is also my belief that by creating intentional bridges between the queer community and the Muslim community, we will create better, stronger, and long lasting mutually supportive relationships that will also demonstrate our love for our queer Muslim family. I will use an older but goody…none of us are free until all of us are free.

Asalaam aleikum!

Cultural Appropriation Can Kill You

So today I read an article on Yahoo about a self-styled guru spiritual leader self-help expert James Arthur Ray who booked a spa in Arizona and charged clients $9,000-$10,000 for a week called a "Spiritual Warrior" retreat. The culmination of the retreat was a "sweat lodge." Three people have died from multiple organ failure from the sweat.

First of all, I have no experience in running a sweat lodge but common sense says that you do not pack 80 people into a superheated space, period. Anyone that has ever been in a sauna or hot tub or steam room has seen the sign warning against over exposure to those superheated spaces. And a sweat lodge is NOT one of those things. it is an even more intense space that is also a spiritual ceremony tied to rigorous traditions that are both for enlightenment and for the safety of the participants.

James Arthur Ray was a stupid cultural appropriationist as well as criminally negligent. The deaths have been ruled a homicide, and while I don't think he murdered those people, they entered the sweat of their own free will, he was responsible for their health and safety, and I hope that the three families smack him with a wrongful death suit that leaves him penniless eating government cheese straight from the box.

For fuck's sake white folks, stop STEALING shit that you DON'T understand, that is NOT part of your life tradition, and that you have NO BUSINESS APPROPRIATING for your own.

Charging for a sweat not only is wrong but also it profanes the experience. This isn't some weekend Scandinavian recreational event, this is a spiritual ceremony tied to a tradition of faith. Why the fuck do certain privileged, generally white people, all of a sudden up and decide they can steal another people's spiritual practices and then CHARGE for the shit?

If I put on a cassock, got me a bottle of Three Buck Chuck Merlot and a box of Wheat Thins and started charging people for Holy Communion there would be a riot. Hell, in some states it is illegal to impersonate a member of the clergy. So why the hell is it alright for Joe Whitey to impersonate a shaman, medicine person, or other spiritual leader?

Now don't get me wrong, there are some white folks that do cultural immersion the right way. Pema Chodron is a white Canadian woman that after a nasty divorce took vows as a Buddhist nun and is now a world renowned and respected leader in the Tibetan Buddhist tradition. But she didn't take the spiritual learnings for herself and then charge for them. She followed the ways, laws, teachings, and traditions of the path that she found fulfilling for her. She submitted to the structure of her new faith and worked within it under experienced teachers and through that found her way.

The fact that white folks still think that they can snatch up something that they do not understand, slap some "wampum" on it and a dreamcatcher and call it a self-help seminar is endemic of the continued subjugation and culture war being waged on the native peoples, my people, of the United States.

It's time for this shit to stop. Three people dead is a high price to pay for one man's greed, cultural appropriation and racism.

Interview with a Comic Diva: Yamaneika Saunders

So, a couple of Sundays each month, David and I mosey up the street to the queer night spot Therapy in Hell's Kitchen for the comedy show hosted by Brad Loekle. Now, sometimes the show is a little bit on the wakka wakka side. In general, the first comic of the night, to put it gently, sucks yeast infected nuts. Not always, but sometimes. In general, as the show progresses, so does the talent. In general, the headliner never fails. Sometimes, though, the headliner blows your friggin' mind.

Yamaneika Saunders was the headliner, and she not only blew my mind...she blew it up. I was picking up pieces of my medulla oblongata off of peoples tables, from under bar stools, and out of folks' cosmos. This woman was a raw talent for tellin' the damn truth in a way that will have you laughing with her and at yourself. She uses comedy to examine the world, pick it up, shake it, and set it down again...giggling.

After the show, bold as brass, I stalked Yama. I also asked her if she would be willing to be interviewed for my little piece of the World Wide Web. She graciously agreed, and here is her dynamite interview. I can't wait to see where she goes, because she is going to go further than, I think, she even dreams about. Thank you Yama for taking the time to respond to these questions, and I am sending you much love.

You are funny as hell...a comedienne extraordinaire...what first pushed you to take the stage and make folks laugh? What is it that you get from being a comedienne?

Yamaneika: Aww, Thank you, Brandon . The first person who got me into stand-up was, surprisingly enough, my mother. We were living in LA and she (my mother) was taking stand-up classes with Sandi Shore. After talking to Sandi about me and how funny she thought I was, my mother enrolled me in a comedy class w/ Sandi per Sandi's request. Each class Sandi taught ended in a showcase, and I was fortunate enough that Sammy Shore (Father of Sandi and Pauly Shore) was the host for the showcase. Sammy pulled me to the side after the showcase and told me that I shouldn't take any more classes because I was ready to do it without training. Before all that happened, I was on my way to becoming a political science major w/ the hopes of being the first black female Supreme Court Justice.

Your persona on stage is a fierce, no shit taking, black woman that radiates a type of strong-black-woman ferocity that I recognize from my own family...off stage you are sweet as a peach...tell me a little bit about these two personas and how they interact with one another?

Yamaneika:My grandmother and my upbringing are responsible for my duality on stage and in life. I grew up in the suburbs of Maryland, in a middle-class family, attended private school, and I am a granddaughter of ministers. There is this very religious side of me: the side that believes in Jesus and prays. That side is very sensitive and worries about others, would volunteer at a shelter and all that Mother Teresa shit! I go home at night and cry because I feel like I should be doing more to help the world, but I just don't know how! That's who I am when you meet me off stage: very sensitive, proper, and quiet.

However, when its time to perform you have to bring that alter ego out. That exaggerated side of you that needs to be heard. The character you see on stage is the person who says the things I would like to say in real life, but I just don’t have the balls to say. I’m so concerned off stage with hurting people’s feelings and disrespecting people that I often limit what I say to people that I don’t know.


Your beauty and blackness are front and center when you take the stage...how does your racial identity inform your comedy?

Yamaneika: I was blessed to come from a family that believed in telling you how beautiful you are. I grew up with an abundance of self-esteem and worth. Even in school when I was teased for being the only minority and being chubby, I still held my head up high. Kids would call me a nigger to my face and I would say, “takes one to know one” or “don’t you wish you had these nigger looks?” I was so confident.

I have always happy to be who I am. I believe that if you love who you are then you aren’t threatened by loving people for they are.

It wasn’t until the 7th grade, when another black student came to our school, that I realized how strong I really was. This student was feeling a lot of pressure and was desperately trying to fit in. I understood how hard it was because there were no other minority children at this school, not even an Asian kid and they are everywhere! I spent a lot of time defending this young lady and talking to her. I realized that she needed a little of what I had even if I wasn’t always sure of my real strength. It was through pep talking this young lady, and encouraging her, that I really realized that I could make people laugh. When she was being attacked I would go up to the kids who picked on her and would snap on their asses so hard! I would cut them down to size, and then crowds would form and people would crack up. It got to the point where people used to love to taunt us just so I could go off in a comical rant! In hindsight, it defeated the purpose of diminishing attention around us, but it also became very fun. I experienced much racism at the school, but the one thing that broke the barrier was humor. Humor knows no color.

Comedy is a way for me to say to the little dark black girl "you are beautiful" or to the unloved woman "I love you". This society is structured to divide us on many levels. I hear from the industry all the time that I can't reach the important audiences (which to them are white males). I have just as many white men who approach me after a show, as anyone else. Am I a woman? Yes. Am I black? Yes. Am I a big girl? For now. But ask me if I had the same feelings this 19 to 35 year old male demographic had when I had my heart broken for the first time, had my feelings hurt, or when I heard my mothers voice over the phone. We all have things that connect us as humans, which are what I like to tap into.

On stage you seem to evoke the comedy styles of everyone from Moms Mabley and Aunt Esther to Monique...who are your influences?

Yamaneika: I think I evoke those feelings from some, because we like to categorize people to understand them. I have great respect for Moms Mabley and Lawanda Page [Aunt Ester from TV’s Sanford and Son], I definitely have watched and listened to them and respect their comedy styles. A lot of people compare me to Monique because we are both big girls and from Baltimore , MD, but that is where the similarities end.

My influences are Richard Pryor, Lenny Bruce (I do have a few problems with Bruce, but I respect him), George Carlin, and Paul Mooney. I respect people who aren't afraid to go against the grain and speak their mind, like it or not. I like to push the envelope. I love when people say, "No, she didn't just go there!” I will go there, I live there, I bought a house there and I hope that eventually I'll have a few neighbors there so I can have a cook out in "Thereville.”

I spent the first few years of doing comedy being that reserved little girl that my grandma wanted me to be. Don't act ghetto because everyone is expecting that, remember that as a big girl people will expect this, as a woman people will expect that. That is too much shit to think about. Like Frank Sinatra said, "I Got To Be Me"!

As a full figured woman, you talk about size in your comedy. You work the body you have, and you work it well. How does the way that society treats folks that aren't a size 0 impact how you personally move through the world and how you decide what to bring into your stand up?

Yamaneika: Well, I try not to let being big define my material because I’m more than just my size. I have plus sized jokes because its relevant to my current life, but I don’t hate skinny girls. My material is very conversational so I try to focus on those things in my life that I can talk about and people can relate to, not everyone can relate to being fat so if I limited myself to that content I wouldn’t go very far.

I do think that being a big person has opened up different realities to me in this world, it can be a struggle sometimes. I also know that I have advantages, because (not be cocky) I am a “cute” girl so that helps me maneuver were some people who are plus sized and “unattractive” are restricted. I do feel an impulse when I see big people in the audience to do material that about being big, because my big jokes are uplifting and not self-deprecating. Big people laugh, cry, eat, shit and fuck just like the rest of the world.

Sometimes, comics will say its easier for a big girl to get up and make people laugh cause they think we are automatically funny. I disagree, at the end of the day I have to say funny stuff just like everyone else; no one is giving me pity laughs up there!

You are a straight woman (I am assuming here) that I met doing stand up in a queer bar...how does your sexuality come into play in your stand up? Your work resonated with folks in the audience despite sexuality differences, why do you think that is?

Yamaneika: As I said before, when we relate to one another on a human level race and sexuality can’t divide us. I grew up in a very religious household starting from the age of eight, but before we became so “sanctified” my grandparents owned a nightclub and my mother was the DJ. We knew how to party, and we knew how to socialize; I never lost that ability. When I’m on stage, I am there to have a good time. There was a time when I had a real fear that I would be rejecting God if I kept doing gay shows, or supporting my gay friends and then God said to me, “love”. I literally heard a voice say “love”. God put me here to send love and not to judge, that is what He does.

So, what I focus on is loving my audience and sharing my life with them. Let the rest of the people fight over those things. I don’t see race, I don’t see sexuality, I don’t see anything but another human being on the stage when I perform. I’ll never forget one night I was in Connecticut and there was a cute chubby guy in the front row. I said that I would love to take him home later on that night. He turned red and started to look a little uncomfortable, as if I was picking on him. He finally said, “I’m not what you think.” I said, “I know you’re gay, that’s why I’m hitting on you. I love a man who doesn’t want me, it’s a challenge”, and I threw him a little wink. He laughed and his friends relaxed. He came up to me after the show and said, “I loved you. You were the first comic who didn’t make me feel uncomfortable in this gayphobic town”. I could tell he thought I was going to make fun of him being gay, but what I noticed when I spoke to him from the stage is that he was trying hard to relax so I was going to help him relax!

Who gives a shit if I’m straight (well, every female comic these days is gay … so, I’m not making any commitments to that status) and who gives a shit if I’m a woman. I’ve been put down, I’ve been talked about, I’ve been rejected, and I’ve overcome. So, let’s talk about that shit so we can move on!

You are an amazing performer...how can folks that want to hear you, see you, love you find you in this big wide world of ours?

Yamaneika: My website YellinGirl.com is under construction, so people can check me out at www.facebook.com/yellinggirl. I keep peeps posted on my events. Don’t be afraid to add me!

L'Chaim!

About three years ago, I was living in Albuquerque and getting ready to make the transition back to Minneapolis. I had been an active board member of the Headwaters Foundation for Justice—a kick ass organization that funds cutting edge community organizing work in Minnesota and Wisconsin—before I left for New Mexico. So, in preparation for my return to Minnesota, I started kicking up my activity level with Headwaters again and flew home in March 2006 to participate in a strategic planning retreat.

On the night before the last day of the retreat, I had a dream. In my dream I was conversing with a rabbi in Hebrew. I was fairly certain that what I was speaking was in fact really Hebrew. Which is odd considering I know approximately two words in Hebrew that are not actually the names of High Holy Days or other Jewish festivals. Too much beyond shalom and l’chaim and you might as well be speaking Old Norse (which, incidentally, you can learn and earn a PhD in at the University of Minnesota…the only university in the nation to award a doctorate in that area).

The next morning, I was at the retreat, and the facilitators decided to close the day by asking folks to talk about something interesting that had happened the previous evening. So, when it got to me, I shared the story about my dream.

We closed out the circle and the meeting officially ended. No sooner had the last thank you been said than the four or five Jews in the room made a direct beeline for me. One woman, who I completely adore (Barb Weiner), told me a story about her Father, who, as he was in the hospital dying, spoke to his family in Hebrew…a language he had never learned. Another woman told a similar story…and they all agreed that I must have Jewish ancestry (which I do) and that I was probably making a connection with a former life or an ancestor.

At the time I had also been considering a conversion to Judaism. Judaic philosophy, specifically tikkun olam—or the directive to all Jews to heal the world of its wounds and ills—is something that resonates deeply with me. My Jewish Mother, mentor, and friend Beth Zemsky approached me that day and asked me if I was still considering conversion. For the last three years, I have been in perfect balance between my love of Jesus and his teachings and the understanding that of all the world’s religions…Judaism is the one that resonates most closely with my personal life philosophy.

So I have been going to Buddhist chanting (gongyo)…that seemed like a happy middle ground. I can keep Jesus and still incorporate a more social justice focused philosophy of being as evinced by Nichiren Buddhism.

Of course just as I get comfortable with where I am at with my faith...I have another damn dream.

This time, I found myself at a Shabbat celebration. The cantor was singing in Hebrew and the congregants were reciting the Shema. Again, I am absolutely convinced that, in my dream, the Shema that was being recited was, in fact, the Shema. The difference in this dream was that I was a Jew who didn’t understand Hebrew and could not recite the Shema.

Talk about being rejected.

The other Jews around me in my dream were smiling encouragingly. When I finally couldn’t take it and bolted for the temple door, folks eagerly encouraged me to come back. Everyone I met on the street was wearing a yarmulke…the men’s were black and the women’s where white (I have no idea the significance of this other than I believe in my dream I thought that the women wearing white yarmulkes were married—which is consistent with conservative Catholic women that wear white veils in church if they are married and black if they are widowed).

I believe in signs, portents, spirits and that God speaks directly to each person all the time. But, if he is trying to tell me something…I wish he would send me a note or something. Maybe a letter or a post card…but sending me dreams in Hebrew is just plain crazy making.

In the end, I am not sure how to take the dream or what the spirits and my subconscious are trying to tell me. Perhaps it was another past life flashback or maybe it was a foretelling of what is to come. If only there were a way to reconcile my love of Jesus, my love of Judaism, and my new found respect for Nichiren Buddhism without resorting to creating a new faith or becoming B’hai. I am denominationally schizophrenic enough—having grown up Lutheran, Baptist, and Catholic—adding an entire other faith path to the mix outside of the Judeo-Christian tradition is more than I can take. What a shtunk!

(P.S. I grew up with that picture of black Jesus on the wall of our house alongside the traditional picture of white Jesus. I used to feel badly because I thought black Jesus was hot...I would totally do him!)

Nam-Myoho-Renge-Kyo

This evening, I entered a brightly lit, ornate redstone building covered in scaffolding on East 15th on the border of the Village and Chelsea. I met my best friend, RJ, there--after a hasty cab ride as I thought I was going to be late--to attend evening chant. RJ had recently started attending prayer services at this Buddhist Society, and I, a Christian pan-theist, gladly joined him.

It was nothing like I expected.

To begin with, the chanting had started early. We entered a room filled with a Bennetton spread of nationalities literally humming with the Nichiren Buddhist chant Nam-Myoho-Renge-Kyo (for those that love them some Tina Turner and have seen What's Love Got to Do With It a half million times as I have will recognize this as the chant she was taught). The chanting and the room were alive with energy. The sound jumped directly into my chest, and before my butt hit the seat I was chanting along with the crowd.

As I looked around, I noticed young and old, Asian, Latino, Jewish, Black, and White filling the room (thanks to Tina Turner the largest groups were black folks and a pan-Asian hodgepodge--and true to form most of the black folks arrived late as hell including the Afro-Latin@s). The service was simple, except the five minutes of the liturgy which sounded like a Buddhist monk on meth, and largely consisted (except for that five minutes) of chanting Nam-Myoho-Renge-Kyo which means I commit myself to the cosmic law of cause and effect and to the ultimate universal truth expressed through sound. Damn that little old Japanese/Sanskrit phrase packs a lot of punch.

I fell into the easy rythym of the chant. About half way through, RJ looked up and said, "call me." Which is a code word for HOT MAN. I paused in my chanting to appreciate the Latin thick 'em that was moving out to take a call. Yes, the Buddha is good. Hey glory.

About 15 minutes into the service, I found myself chanting and rocking back and forth to the vibration of the sound. And then I experienced a strange and awesome sensation. I felt as if a cool fire was emanating from my skin...like...if they had killed the lights...my little brown ass would have been all a glow. It was a cool feeling. And then the little Japanese women next to me, who arrived late I might add, started chanting out of rythym and threw off my feng shui...and I lost my glowing feeling. But for a minute I felt like Bruce Leroy...whose the master? I am!

I have always believed in God. It's been both a blessing and a curse. He and I have not always gotten along, but I've always believed in him. This was an entirely different way of experiencing him. And one that I will be repeating. I am no hero for opening myself to the experience, but I am proud that I was enable to enhance my faith journey...even if it was a little bit Barry Gordy style.

Poem: Carey

Another oldie but goody. I wrote this poem about six years after my Grandfather passed away. My Grandfather was an amazing human being. Words fail to describe exactly what he meant to me and my family. When someone like him passes, it is a light going out of this world. Thank God I believe in the world to come...so I know his light is not lost only shining in a different, better place.

I love you Grandpa.

Carey


I remember that day when Mom called and said
You didn’t make it
She told me that You held her hand and died
You asked her to fly with You and to bring me too

I would have found a way
Like Icarus I would have made wings of wax and feathers
Or of mud and leaves—anything that would have lifted me
With You on a flight to the sun
I wouldn’t have been afraid for my wings to melt
Because you were Grandpa Carey
And You would have carried me

You would have carried me like you did when you were alive
Tucked underneath your arm or huddled beneath one of your stories
You would have carried me like You did our family
That you supported until your lungs gave out from the asbestos
That you carried even with your laughter wheezing from you chest
Oxygen life lines in your nose
You swore that my chuckle was contagious
That as a baby I laughed so hard and deep that you had to laugh too
But it was You, always You that gave to me
You filled my mind and my stomach with your wit and buttermilk pancakes
Your gentle hugs and callused hands that smelled like roofing tar and sawdust
It was you that knew all my secrets
Would ask me, “How is Grandpa’s little girl?”
I would answer, “Grandpa, I’m a boy,” and You would smile
Maybe not understanding gay but understanding different
White man/native man caught between the rez and reality
And You loved me just the same

It’s been six years since You left us
72 months since I’ve heard your voice
More than 2000 days since You went home
This poem has been 52,560 hours in the writing because I still look for You
On holidays
I sit in my spot on the couch
And look for You in your chair at the end of the kitchen table
Where the floor slants downward the foundation settling into the dirt
Sometimes I hear You playing solitaire and You swore you never cheated
But You always won
Sometimes I play cribbage with your ghost, and I remind it of the one time I beat You
And as usual You pretend not to hear
Just like when we would watch Wheel of Fortune together
And You’d play deaf if I guessed the puzzle before you did

I pray to you sometimes when I think God is too busy to listen,
Because you were never too busy for me
And sometimes when I think I can’t make it
I can hear your rocking chair creaking
And the sound of Price is Right with no TV in sight
I remember the day that we watched the black televangelist on KDLH
You announced that someday that could be me
I shook my head, and you said that with faith I could anything
With faith I could move mountains
With faith I could make the blind see
With faith I could change the world
But faith hasn’t brought You back to me

Faith hasn’t brought back the only man I’ve ever loved unconditionally
And sometimes I get so angry that I never got to say goodbye
That I won’t go to Your grave because I’m afraid that the finality of stone nourished by your body
Will take away the faith I have left
I am trying to understand why He took You
When at times like today I need You
I need You because you are the only Father I have ever known
And while you art in Heaven, I’m here alone
“God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change.”
And the courage to say goodbye
To the man who carried me
And who carries me still