Equality Sucks!

From 2002 until 2007, I had the privilege of being a member of the Visions Collective. The Visions Collective was an intentionally intersectional group of artists, academics, and organizers that spanned broad racial, gender, sexuality, and age demographics. The genesis of the group was a discussion series held by the now defunct Freire Center in Minneapolis, which brought a group of folks together to discuss a number of topics, one of which was Israel/Palestine. The second intifada was in full swing, and a question was raised about suicide bombing attacks as legitimate acts of resistance versus acts of terror. The room was divided but the majority consensus was that when there is such a terrific and terrible imbalance of power between two peoples and when one people holds enormous and overwhelming military might that suicide bombing can be and has been used as a legitimate revolutionary war tactic.

For the lefty Jews in the room this triggered a deep and irrational reaction tied to political Zionism as practiced in Israel (which is distinct and different from the original aims of the Zionist movement). The outcome was that we realized that there were no spaces where we, who all identified as somewhere on the spectrum from progressive to radical, could come together to discuss and learn how to navigate what we termed "the places that stick." On the Left the issue of Israel/Palestine is perhaps the single most divisive issue because of the history of the Holocaust and the rhetoric of the Israeli government. But the fact remains that as allies to each other on the Left, we needed to develop a space to conscientiously and purposefully jump into those "places that stick," and figure out how to justly engage with one another in those hard places.

For five years, the Visions Collective met roughly monthly. Our only goal was to be intentional with one another and to talk about those hard places. We were not an organizing collective, we published no papers, and we had no agenda other than to build with one another over food and friendship. The collective was comprised of some amazing folks: Sara Leedom, Coya White Hat Artichoker, Juliana Hu Pegues, Ricardo Levins Morales, Nikki Kubista, Jeff Nygaard, Lisa Albrecht, and me.

I will never forget the day when Ricardo said:

When asking for equality, we must ask the question, "Equal to what?"

What a tremendously simple and overwhelmingly profound statement. It made me think, for the first, time, about it means to ask for equality whether that be racial equality, gender equality, or, the hot button issue of the day, marriage equality. At its foundation, in the United States, asking for equality really means to ask to be equal to and have the same opportunites as white, straight, wealthy men: aka the right to oppress others, the right to make enormous wealth on the backs of others, the right to degrade the environment for profit, the right to colonize and control the developing world, the right to amass private property, and the right to participate full as oppressors in the most heinous and oppressive neoliberal systems at the center of how the world operates.

No thank you.

Let's look, for a moment, at the institution of marriage. We are asking to be equal participants in an institution that was designed to subjugate women, perpetuate clan based power structures and preserve wealth within a kinship network with the specific caveat that the wealth, property and power be controlled by men. We are asking to be equal to a system that promotes and elevates one type of family structure, hold it up as sacred, and provide it with overwhelming benefits that are not accessible by either individuals that choose to live their lives singly, are forced to do so my circumstance, or choose to construct families and relationships on models that blow up the one person/one person binary paradigm.

No thank you.

Don't get me wrong. I absolutely beleive that any two people that wish to join together in marriage should receive the benefits that are available to a "straight couple." But I want to be clear in articulating what it is we are ACTUALLY asking to participate in and what it actually means to prop up the institution of marriage (plus, we all know just how wonderfully marriage actually works...).

The word equality is disgusting. I'd rather be called a nigger than be called equal.

I learned from Ricardo and the other folks in the Vision's Collective that what we REALLY want and what we REALLY should ask for is marriage justice, racial justice, relationship liberation, economic justice. The difference is very simple: justice and liberation require that each individual be supported, loved, upheld, and valued as a whole and perfect instrument with personal autonomy, sovereignity and integrity while also REQUIRING that personal power and privilege be balanced against not only ones immediate community needs and requirements but also against global needs and requirements. Economic justice means that everyone on the planet has food, water, clothing, shelter, education, and recreation before anyone else gets to have EXTRA food, EXTRA water, EXTRA clthing, EXTRA shelter, so on and so far. And by extra I mean more than the abundance needed to live your life well, wholly, and fully. No one should starve so that someone else can eat, but we should all eat what we need and not beyond excess because we believe we have a right to it based on our privilege.

Justice and liberation also require that we deconstruct misguided oppressive notions of what is or is not a valid union between peoples; if everyone involved is a consenting, informed, supported, and liberated adult freely choosing to participate in whatever type of relationship configuration, as long as it is loving and sustaining that relationship structure should enjoy all the rights and privileges of any other relationship structure that enjoys government sanction. Justice helps us understand that my liberation supports your liberation and blows up the notion that if somehow I should earn my freedom you will lose yours...we all get to be free. How sweet is that?

Equality sucks. I want no part of it.

Justice and liberation...now that I am down with.

The Kick Ass Parents Award: Susan Raffo & Rocki Simoes AND M'Bwende Anderson & Jaime Grant

I had a fucked up childhood.

Let's just be real about that.

My Mom did the best she could being a survivor of some not so great parenting moments from her childhood...but she spent a good deal of my young life being severely beaten by men, and there was a good chunk of time were I was beaten right along with her. My Dad and my Mom divorced while I was very young, and while both of my parents are amazing and have walked their own paths, we didn't get to walk much of it together.

So, when I come across parents that are raising their children in some of the most transformative and brilliant ways, and when I have first hand had the chance to meet and learn from their brilliant and gifted children or from the stories that I have read about the ways in which these little people see the world, my entire being is filled with love and hope and appreciation for the parents and the children.

So I decided that I would start an occasional award to recognize parents that are raising their chidren intentionally, using a model of parenting that instills a sense of self worth and social justice in their children. There are a number of parents that I expect to recognize, but I am starting off with two sets of parents that make my heart smile.

The Kick Ass Parents: Susan Raffo and Rocki Simoes

It's hard to believe that I have known Susan and Rocki for 14 years. Yep, you read that correctly, 14 years. I met Susan when we were students at the University of Minnesota in 1997. Since then, Susan has been my colleague, boss, collaborator, co-conspirator, emotional support, mentor, and family. I met Rocki shortly after meeting Susan, and Rocki has been all the things Susan has been (including being the boss of me when I had the honor to serve on the Host Home Program advisory board), and Rocki is family as well. About a decade ago, Rocki knocked up Susan with some sperm from a gentleman I like to call the Lesbians Baby Daddy of South Minneapolis (Yay Capper!), and nine months later along came Luca "Peluca Head" Raffo-Simoes.

Susan and Rocki were the first folks to model for me what it looks like to raise a child with a level of intentionality that recognized this child as a little person while teaching her to move through the world consciously and conscious of power, privilege, and the impacts of oppression.

I will never forget the first time I was with the family and Luca interrupted the conversation in order to ask us to explain what we were talking about as she didn't understand what was going on. Susan and Rocki have always given Luca permission to interrupt adult conversation when she is present if she doesn't understand the content, and with love Susan and Rocki both have modeled how to explain adult conversation appropriately but directly and without condenscension.

Oh how I love this family. I have been to about half of Luca's birthday parties, we have grass fights in the Summer, and she even sat in on a workshop I gave this last spring at a queer youth conference. Thank you Rocki and Susan for bringing Luca into the world, and thank you for giving her the tools to live her life with love, conviction, and intentionality. You can't protect her from all the things that will go bump in her life, but she has all the tools she'll need to get over them and without so many of the childhood wounds that I know many of us of a different generation have.


The Kick Ass Parents Award: Jaime Grant and M'Bwende Anderson

It is no conincidence, I think, that the two families that came to mind immediately when I thought of this award were two queer families. The second family is also led by two people that I worship from afar: Jaime and M'Bwende.

I met both Jaime and M'Bwende 11 or 12 years ago when we were working in the youth movement. I was a youth organizer as was M'Bwende and Jaime was an adult ally. Both M'Bwende and Jaime met each other and I met them through the National Youth Advocacy Coalition (rest in peace NYAC). From the gate, I loved both of these human beings. I loved Jaime for her fierce brilliance, consummate nerdiness, and lovely sensuality and sexuality all wrapped up in one person. I wanted to be M'bwende. They were beautiful, intentional, confident, and powerful...the type of person of African descent that every black person in this country should have in their young life....and damn sexy too! Both of them, like Susan and Rocki, work in the justice movement, raise their families using intentionality and direct honesty, and they talk about the struggles and the beauty openly. It's inspirational.

Jaime and M'Bwende have two children: Reilly and Ella. I haven't had the privilege of meeting Reilly, and I've only seen Ella a couple times as a baby. But the stories that Jaime shares about these amazing children often times makes me die laughing and fly with the fierceness of their being. Reilly is an anti-racist avenger, stomping down on oppression and has an analysis of the way the world works and how it should work that took me until sometime during college to even begin to have. I am failry certain Ella is going to form a feminist collective that will one day rule the world.

How I love this family and the people that lead it. How I love that Ella and Reilly are moving through the world already. How I deeply appreciate, as a multi-racial person that grew up in a black/white home, how this black/white home is a model for multi-racial families. Thank you and love to you both.



I am super happy to highlight these four amazing people....Rocki, Susan, M'Bwende, Jaime...you are all KICK ASS PARENTS!

Same Gender Marriage: My Analysis

Yesterday I posted my first guest blog at My Feet Only Walk Forward, and I am mightily glad that I did. Some of you loved it, some of you hated it, some of you agreed with it but didn't like the style in which it was presented. I will make this comment that the person who wrote it is brilliant and has a right to their rage, anger, and disappointment with the topic of marriage. That person also has a right to use profanity, and I believe did so in a hilarious way. But the reality remains that so many of those with money or those that make decisions about the priorities of the movement for LGBTTSGNCSGL/Queer justice have pushed, cajoled or plainly forced those of us with a broader and more substantial agenda for change into their cubbyholes. It is not cool at all and displays the underlying power, privilege and oppression present within the queer community.

Today, an article appeared on the Huffington Post stating that Obama has had a reconciliation with the "gay" movement largely because of the myriad of ways he really has been an ally to queer folks and has used both legislative and executive avenues to push forward various issues important to various segments of the queer and trans community. The article would have been fantastic if had stated that and stopped there. But oh NO...the first couple of paragraphs were right on and then the rest of the damn article was about marriage. And that right there is the problem. Let me restate.

THE REST OF THE ARTICLE WAS ABOUT MARRIAGE.

The article clearly reflected its sources. Ask most folks at the HRC, The Task Force, Freedom to Marry, and Equality Matters and you would end up with a priority list with marriage at or near the top. Ask the Stonewall Democrats and the Log Cabin Republicans, and you'd probably get the same thing.

Now trot your ass down to 24th and 7th and ask FIERCE (Queer youth of color organization), Audre Lorde Project(LGBTSTGNC people of color organization), Sylvia River Law Project (trans criminal justice organization), or Queers for Economic Justice, and marriage won't even hit the top ten. Ask Unid@s and it might be in the top five but it won't be number one.

Let's examine why....it's pretty simple. The first batch of organizations largely represent middle or upple middle class white heternormative individuals with tons of privilege and a narrow view of what a "gay" issue is.

The second batch of organizations works with working class, poor, vulernable and homeless populations that are largely people of color and include a huge number of immigrants.

So the math is pretty simple, those with the most need and are facing the most urgent issues that relate to life and death, food, clothing and shelter are those with the least means to force recognition of that need onto the national stage. Those privileged individuals that fund the national organizations have the means and do prioritize their narrow desire and do so without regard and often times concern other than a general recognition of queer and trans folks of color and working class queer and trans folks.

Thus marriage assumes a level of focus and importance way beyond its actual potential impact and ability to change lives broadly.

And I get even more angry because it forces an internal division between my politics and the impact on my friends. My politics are clear: marriage is not a priority nor should it receive the resources it receives. My reality is clear: many of my friends are in loving committed monogamous relationships, many with children, and would benefit from the economic and immigration rights that come with marriage. My friends Susan and Rocki would never have had the stress of worrying about Rocki's green card. My friend Karly and her partner Laura are currently living in England, where Laura holds citizenship, because Laura's visa expired and though they are married she can not petition for citizenship as a straight couple would be able to do. For them, marriage would be life changing...life changing but not life saving. Though it sucks beyond suckage, and I want them to be here in the United States, neither of them worry about food, clothing, shelter, access to HIV and other medications, addiction treatment, or any of the other broader and more impactful issues within the queer and trans community that can and often do mean life or death.

That's what we are talking about here people: quality of life versus life or death. I want all of my friends that wish to celebrate their love for one another and have it recognized by the state to have that right without reservation. I also live with HIV and I want a cure. I want their to not be a waiting list for ADAP insurance for positive individuals. I want their to be housing for people living with AIDS and hospice care for those for whom the medications no longer work and they are transitioning out of this life. I want any young person that runs away or is kicked out of their home because of being queer or trans to know, with certainity, that they can walk down the street to the nearest youth service organization and there will be supportive housing available to them free of charge. I want any addict anywhere (and at least 25% of queer folks suffer from some form of addiction) to have instant access to rehabilitation services in a queer affirmative environment by simply asking for it.

Since 1996, somewhere around $1 billion has been spent on the marriage fight. $1 billion dollars could have made any one of those other issues right up in that last paragraph a reality or have gotten us so much closer to making them realities.

Next month I will be in Los Angeles at the wedding of a dear friend of mine who is marrying a beautiful man. I will be there with joy for them, but I won't lie, there will be some part of me that is bitter that they can get married wherever they want in the world and have it recognized by the world. I don't have that right. But, I am personally willing to sacrifice that right for now, for myself, in order to heal much deeper and broader and life threatening wounds in our community.

And there is also a part of me that wants to end marriage for everyone entirely. I currently have a partner and am seeing another wonderful man. Even with a win for marriage, my relationship structure choice will not be validated nor will folks that are single be included in the awarding of the economic privileges that go along with heterosexual style marriage.

I am not in opposition to marriage and I understand why many find it to be so important, it is the place it holds and the resources it has appropriated in this fight that make me so very upset. But I am also a realist when I have to be. We are winning this marriage fight despite the laws on the books federally and in so many states. The courts are siding with queer folks. Popular opinion has swung in favor of allowing same gender marriage.

I will continue to critique marriage loudly and openly. I will continue to support fights AGAINST amendments like the proposed constitutional amendment in Minnesota limiting marriage to one man and one woman---those are direct attacks on us and should be resisted rigorously---I wrote the largest single charitable contribution check that I have ever written to a single organization last year...the organization was formed specifically to unseat Senators in New York that voted down a marriage law last year...and I believe that politicians with fucked up positions should pay for their votes with their seats. But I won't be writing a check to any organization that has as part of its agenda active advocacy and organizing FOR marriage in the absence of a attack on marriage rights. Let the courts keep the legislatures in check...that's why we have a system of checks and balances.

But, also, I am so tired of the fight in general, and I know, eventually, that we are going to win, so I would like us to get to victory...like right now...so we can move on to the issues and concerns that are truly going to radically change the lives of millions of queer folks in this country. I too am Beyond Marriage.

Jomama Jones: Endless Summer Live

I love my friend Kenyon Farrow for so many reasons, but one of the gifts he has given me is introduce me to a tremendous human being by the name of Daniel Alexander Jones and his alter ego Jomama Jones.

Last January, on a night so cold I thought my left nostril was permanently frozen shut, I got a call from Kenyon saying that he had an extra ticket to see Jomama Jones' play Radiate. What he didn't tell me is that it was a rock opera soul diva funkadelic glam extravaganza with Jomama Jones who, when I walked in, I thought was Miss Lena Horne come back from the dead.

Radiate blew my mind.

Even more amazing was that I ran into my friend from Minneapolis, now a professor at Hampshire College, Djola Branner sitting in the lobby. Djola revealed to me that Daniel was once a part of the Minneapolis theater community, and we have tons of friends in common.

Well when I found out that Jomama was back with a summer concert, I almost lost my mind.

And when you hear this beautiful performer take the stage backed up by the Sweet Peaches, you are going to love her as much as I do.

The show is running Tuesday June 21 and Wednesday June 22, four show times, and you can buy tickets here. I will see ya'll there.

And for those of you NOT in New York City...you betta call somebody you know and book Jomama in your hometown.

A house of our own: drag balls spark a movement to create safe spaces for queer youth of color. (Intelligence Making Change).: An article from: City Limits

Fuck Gay Marriage: A Guest Blog

I received an email today from an old and dear friend from back home in Minnesota that is a brilliant political strategist and deeply committed to the community. This friend asked me if I would post this blog on their behalf anonymously. Anonymously because of the position and space they hold within the movement. Because I share many of the critiques of the marriage movement and what it has meant to our community and who it excludes and the resources it has sucked away from many more important issues and the way it has defined and excluded broader conversations and work for real social change in the LGBT Movement, I have agreed to post this blog anonymously.

Get ready.

Fuck Gay Marriage
by Anonymous

Fuck marriage.

That's right, I said it.

Fuck marriage.

To be more specific, fuck all of you who are going to spend the next fucking year fucking yabbering on and on and on about how important it is that you and your partner of a couple gazillion years be able to get a fucking little piece of paper so you can get access to all the privileges given to straight people who get married.

Don't get me wrong, I'm going to fight like fucking hell against the fucking amendment. I can guarantee all you fucking model same sex couple, with your 2.5 bottle-bred babies and your cozy fucking rambler with the fucking organic garden in the back that I am at some point going to go batshit crazy after you have explained for the fucking 100th time how you need to be able to see the fucking “love of your life” in the hospital or be able to co-sign the mortage.

Yes indeedy, I am about to spend the next fucking year defending your fucking marriage while I sit at home eating a fucking Lean Cuisine and talking to my fucking cat, by myself.

Fuck it all, let's start having singles only events against the fucking amendment so we can sit around and just fucking bitch about you all in the vain hope that we aren't tempted to slash the fucking tires on your fucking Hybrid Mini-van.

Everyday Heroes: Victor Cole

So I was supposed to post my newest award: The Awesome Parents Award...but that is going to require a little more set up, and I am feeling extremely lazy today

But there is someone that I have been meaning to love on publicly for some time. His name is Victor Cole, and he is my Everyday Hero.

Let me tell you why.

I met Victor aka Titi five years ago, in the fall of 2006. I was dating a man that played on the gay softball league, and I went with him to a fundraiser at The Saloon in Minneapolis. There I met a number of his friends that played on a team called the Slammers.

These fools were crazy as Hell. I fell in love with them instantly.

Over the next few months I got to know the BNO Crew (Boys Night Out crew), and I began hanging out with them. When the Spring came around, Titi invited me to join the team. I had never played softball in my life, in fact, I was terrified of organized sports (except for volleyball, which I'd grown up playing, and soccer, which I played on the weekends in the summers as an adult). But to play on an actual league brought forth all kinds of childhood terrors.

Joining the team changed my life completely. It changed it for all of the reasons that research says that organized sports are great. But also, I gained a community of queer men (and one fantastic woman), largely queer men of color, that acted like a family (including some dysfunction but what family doesn't have that?). While Ramon was the heart of the family, Titi was the head (with a big old heart to boot).

Let me tell you, I have gone through some things in the last few years. Read this blog and most of it has been written about here. I have been in my own stuff and lost some friends because of it. But Victor, always giving good love and sometimes giving tough love, would find me in my dark places and reflect back to me the love and light that is constantly around me. He has a gift of seeing people as they are and maybe even as they are meant to be. I believe there are times when your community steps in to love you when you can't quite love yourself, and Victor Cole has loved me more than once and held me up when I was stumbling and not able to love myself the way I deserve.

Victor is brilliant. He is an educator. He is a proud Hawaiian that loves his people as he loves his community. He lives the aloha spirit and has carried it with him wherever he has lived. I've heard stories from so many folks that know and love this man. He isn't just a hero to me.

I love him. It's pretty simple. He's offered his love freely, and it has been received with an appreciation that I don't think I will ever adequately be able to communicate.

Thank you, Titi. You are one of my most loved Everyday Heroes.

PS Please don't punch me in the face for posting this blog about you. Thanks in advance.

Pull My Trigger(s)

Last night I wrote a blog when I was highly triggered...I deleted it this morning.

I received lots of awesome feedback, constructive criticism, and sassy love. I appreciate all of it. Some of you sent me some deliciously inappropriate pictures with offers of salacious deliciousness....I'll get back to you ;-).

I deleted the post for two specific reasons: 1) Some folks were confusing my emotional response with the person that triggered the response--which was my fault...said person was the focus of my rage but not the cause of it, and 2) one of you good people wrote, with much love, and said the fact is that I really do not know what happened to said person and that I might just be confusing gay boy rudeness with my own personal soft spots, which is true enough that I realized that I could have been highly unfair in how I posed my blog last night, so here I go with a broader and more appropriate response.

The best part of being a real live human being is that you get to have other real live human beings give you some perspective when you are unable to have it for yourself.

First let me explain what I mean by triggers. Triggers are those moments, experiences, and situations that sometimes can be avoided because you are conscious of their impact on you and what they bring up from your personal and historical past. Sometimes you find out, the hard way, when they summon up a Hell storm of emotions that ransack your body and take your mind and spirit hostage for a time. For addicts, triggers can often send folks into a relapse with a lightening quickness. But the bottom line is that once one is triggered the best possible scenario is to get to a safe place or let someone you know and love that may be with you in a place that has suddenly become unsafe that you have been triggered and then find a way to ride out the emotions. For me, most often, this means that I run to my laptop and start typing a blog or I go to the gym, as I did this morning, and work my body through the emotions. Some people take a shower, other folks journal or sing or take a walk but it is important for anyone that has never experienced severe physical, emotional or sexual trauma that a person that has been triggered is not going to be in a necessarily rational state of mind for a period of time (sometimes the triggered moment begins and ends in seconds...sometimes it last for hours or a day).

It is also important to know, and listen closely here, that the situation, person or thing that acted as a trigger is not ACTUALLY the problem. Take last night, for example. While I had every right to be annoyed and upset that I was stood up without any communication, the only fact that I had was that I had been stood up without any communication. Any response directed towards that person should have been limited to, at most, "I am pissed off/annoyed that you weren't where we agreed you'd be when we agreed you'd be there." That's it. That's the most that I would have done with any friend that didn't show up, it's what I would have done for any colleague or business appointment if said person didn't show up. But there are two situations when I am now aware that I need to be prepared to find safety and quickly when a person does show up: if a parental figure/authority figure that I respect particularly if it is a black man or someone to whom I have disclosed my HIV status and in whom I have some sort of interest.

I have the parental figure thing on lock....but it wasn't until my 30th birthday when two friends of mine, both of whom happened to be black men and both of whom were/are people to whom I looked up weren't able to be at my birthday party that I discovered I had a deep and unexamined issue. I fired off a couple of self-depricating and passive aggressive text messages to them that did not respect what they were doing and where they were. One person is still a good friend, another was so offended that he disengaged with me. It wasn't until my friend Victor, who knew all of us, brought it to my attention that what he observed and thought was significant was that I only got upset when the two black men that were my friends didn't show up that I had such a deep response, which he actually shared with those two folks. And as soon as Victor (aka Titi) shared his observation with me, I knew it was truth. It made total sense. My birth father was in the military and was unable to be around when I was growing up and then we had a couple of experiences in our relationship where he was unable to be around even though he was in the country. The man who raised me that was extremely physically abusive but for all intents and purposes was the father with whom I bonded emotionally. When I was a child, he was constantly failing to show up and follow through leaving me feeling abandoned and "less than". I was disappointed that Larry and Ramon couldn't be at my party but all the feelings past that were really my deeper core feelings of being abandoned by black men that I love. Both Larry and Ramon were working and working hard and really couldn't be present. But all I got from them not being present was: unworthy, less than, unloved. Our filters can be such mindfucks. I had no idea that was what was going on until after I had been triggered and acted out.

Last night I discovered a second trigger when the gent didn't show up. Instead of it just being that something came up, or he was just being rude, it became about feeling unwanted, undesirable, and untouchable because of my HIV status. My response and my reaction last night was not actually about him, it was about me and my own issues that I am aware exist, and I work on them daily, but last night was a new situation for me. I have had men share with my honestly that they can't get past the HIV status and so choose not to engage with me, which I respect. And in those moments, I might feel sad or a bit of those deeper feelings, I know how to manage them appropriately. Last night, I was taken off guard, and so my feelings were able to rise up and punch through and put me into a tailspin before I could give myself the space to process them appropriately. Instead of it being that the dude didn't show, it was: untouchable, undesirable, other. I repeat...our filters are mindfucks.

And anyone that knows me knows that if I get to that emotional state the Devil Himself stays the fuck out of my way. I am my Mama's son sometimes...and that woman is crazy as Hell (love you Mama). And now that I have 200lbs of muscle on this here body...I start to feeling like Bruce Banner up in this piece. "You wouldn't like me if I'm angry." HULK SMASH!

Last night was a rough but necessary lesson for me to take in. It wasn't at all about this other person (who I did hear from, finally, today...I am still annoyed). It was also a moment for me to process openly, particularly since not everyone has to deal with such intense triggers in their life, but everyone knows someone that does.

And lord have mercy I am glad that I had the sense not to name names or I would be eatin' crow like a mo'fo today.

I.R.A.

No, this blog post is not about the Irish Republican Army (though I support their right to armed resistance!)...this post is actually about the other I.R.A., I Require Attention, also know as Attention Deficit Childhood Disorder (ADCD)...it could also be called HANS--HIV Attention Need Syndrome.

Once the AMA (American Medical Association) or APA (American Psychiatric Association) makes a decision and it is listed in the DSM IV, I will let you know. (I kinda just wanted to see how many acronyms I could fit into the first few sentences in this blog).

But back to the topic at hand. In college, my good friend Kjersten dubbed me an IRA. Anyone that has ever met me knows that I am a bit of a clown, and while I have my quiet moments, I am generally the one trying to get folks talking, laughing, or somehow engaged. I try to be cognizant (at least at this point in my life) of how much space I am taking up (unless I've had a couple of G&Ts then all bets are off)...but the fact remains that I thrive on the attention of others. I am an extroverts extrovert and I start to go a little crazy if I am isolated from folks for too long.

In fact, one of my personal character defects is that I equate a lack of attention with a lack of love, which is super selfish. I have a ton of amazing love from so many people, and folks have their own damn lives. It doesn't mean that they love me less if they haven't had the time to see me lately, but in my own head/mind/spirit, if someone I care about hasn't checked in for a while or hasn't made an effort to get together, there is an arbitrary alarm clock inside of me that starts to sound an alarm...it wakes up my abandoment issues and next thing you know I am sending passive aggressive notes on Facebook.

Oy vey.

But I have noticed that there is a new twist to the game lately. In the past, part of my showmanship was to keep people laughing and keep them from looking too closely. I didn't want them to notice that I was hurting, using, unhappy or whatever it was that I wanted to keep people from seeing. Trust me on this my friends....isolation tips people off...if you want to hide whatever crazy you are going through....do it by making folks laugh and being a clown...they will never ask questions, think you are fun, and never really get to know you. Ahhhhh safety in public anonymity.

(Or to use one of my favorite metaphors of my own devising: the pitchers mound is the loneliest place in a softball game. You are right there for all to see but absolutely alone when it comes to letting that ball go. Once you let it go, other folks can help you get to your goals, but YOU have to first get that ball to a place where it can be of use....you got to get it across home plate....and then your teammates can step in.)

Sorry....tangent.


Lately I have noticed that my need for attention has multipled exponentially. Part of it, I think is simply loving the looks that this new fangled body of mine engenders. That part of it is fine. I appreciate the appreciation. But, I have noticed that now I spend half my workout trying to see if other people are looking. That, right there, is an issue.

Part of this is that living with HIV and having some some rejection(s) and hiding inside myself, staying away from the gym for long periods, and using all of my clowning and performance skills to keep people at a distance kept my inner child attention starved. It's sort of like dying of thirst while in the middle of the ocean...there was plenty of water but it wasn't the kind that could sustain life.

As I have worked very hard lately to keep my addiction in check, as I have begun writing and living much more openly about HIV, and as I have been working on my physical goals as well as my professional goals, I am becoming more comfortable with myself and who I am. As I am becoming more comfortable my attention starved inner child that has been hiding for so so so many years wants to be seen.

And I mean really seen. But instead of just wanting to be present and loved for all of who he is, my inner child is starting to throw temperantrums and demanding that everyone and all eyes look towards him.

I am about to give him an ass whooping.

Growing up poor, overweight, brown, queer, and then testing positive have left redonkulous scars...but just like the easy scars I get on my skin, they start to fade over time...and the new skin that emerges is pink and vulnerable for a time...it needs care and nurturing...and it doesn't want to be hurt again. That is exactly what Billy (that's my childhood name and what my family calls me)....wants to be protected, loved, and seen.

Now the work is to give him and myself the attention we all merit as human beings without it becoming pathological, overbearing, egotistical, or harmful.

Sometimes I just hate introspection...it usually means I got a whole bunch more work to do.

Guess what. I do.

Rest in Peace Grandma Huxtable

Folks the world over, from 1984-1992, tuned in on, I believe, Thursday nights to watch The Cosby Show. For the first six years of the show, I am fairly certain that I didn't miss an episode. The anniversary episode where my favorites. In fact, in season two, the entire clan gets together to lip synch a song to Grandpa and Grandpa Huxtable: Ray Charles' Night Time.

When that episode aired I laughed so hard I literally fell off the ottoman in our family room. I was living on Agnes Street in Kansas City, MO. When Rudy took the stage, I seriously had never seen anything so damn hilarious in my entire life. Of course, I was only eight at the time, but still, that shiz was hilarious. Though I was fairly young, I can see myself in my head absolutely clearly. That is how much of an impact that The Cosby Show had on my young life.

For those very formative years of my life, from age seven to 14, the Cosby Show was a staple of my ocular consumption. The positive and non-gangsta-glorification depiction of a successful black family was, at a time of the emergence and mass consumption of West Coast gangster rap and all of its accompanying media spawn, a welcome depiction of a different type of black experience. I wanted to be a part of the Huxtable family. I wanted to bash Too Short in the head (and, as Murphy's Law would have it...a few years back...my little sister ended up dating Too Short for a time...sigh Sigh SIGH!).

Today, I heard the sad news that Clarice Taylor aka Anna Huxtable, the woman that played Bill Cosby's mother, passed away from heart failure at the age of 93. This brilliant woman had a career that took her from Broadway to Sesame Street. She was a familiar, graceful and brilliant figure in the lives of black Americans from the 60s until her death. Her contributions to the education of young black children have been invaluable. At 93, she has lived a full life surrounded by success and love, but her loss is a generational loss. She will be dearly missed.

Thank you Miss Clarice for giving of yourself and loving your community enough to defy stereotypes. You have passed on but you achieved immortality before you left. Much love to you Mrs. Huxtable. Sleep well.

One Liner of the Week Award: Will McNair

I have a new friend that I absolutely adore. His name is Will McNair. He and I met working on a project with the fabulous Bebe Zahara Benet. When Will first walked in he looked all quite and homosexual. Once that fool got warmed up, I felt like I was on Def Comedy Jam getting Punk'd.

A couple of weeks back, Mr. McNair had himself a birthday. On the night of his actual birthday, we went out for a little spin around Chelsea. We stopped in first at G Lounge where Will was able to indulge his artistic appreciation for go go boys and crisp dollar bills.

While sitting and debating the merits of thongs versus jock straps as traditional gay go go regalia and discussing dating possibilities for Will he said,

"I am educated. I got money. I am a white woman of color."

I about shit a roll of nickels.

And that, ladies and termites, is the One Liner of the Week.

Dr. Cornel "Obama's a House Nigger" West

Let's just be clear...Dr. West needs to be slapped upside the head for basically calling President Obama a house nigger in front of the entire world.

Don't believe me? Pray, tell me exactly how else one would translate this statement about President Obama on MSNBC's The Ed Show:

I think he does have a predilection much more toward upper-class white brothers and Jewish brothers and a certain distance from free black men who will tell him the truth about himself as well as what’s going on in black communities, brown communities, red communities and poor white and working-class communities.

Translation: Obama is a house nigger that is afraid of all of us field niggers that gonna remind him that he ain't white.

Let me go on ahead and channel my inner mixed child and respond on behalf of President Obama. Dr. West...just because you have a gap in your teeth and refuse to pick out that Don King fro of yours does not make you any more black or down or...wait for it...less privileged than our President. In fact, Mr. Denial, you have degrees from Princeton and Yale and you have occupied posts at Princeton and Harvard, Yale and the University of Paris, and Haverford College. If Obama was up in the Big House serving in the Dining Room, your ass would have been just the other side of the kitchen door.

And I couldn't give a fuck that you are a Democratic Socialist, you, sir participate in the elitist and most privileged institutions in the United States. That statement you made on MSNBC was one of the biggest rocks ever thrown inside of a glass house. I swear to God.

But beyond the personal hypocrisy of you sitting on a perch funded by white men, propped up by white men, created by white men, and until very recently, open exclusively only to white men, the damage you have done by not only buying into but also parroting the very same race exclusion/division rhetoric championed during slavery and Jim Crow is just plain shameful and irresponsible.

As I said today on Facebook, I could care less if the Dove of Christ came down and sat on Dr. West's nappy ass fro and he blew the Trumpet of the Resurrection out of his asshole, until he apologizes for the WAY in which he made his critique, I no longer give a damn what that self-hating, internalized racist has to say.

Please let me know if my position is not clear.

And I wish Dr. West would come for my ass. I am as radical as he. I share his politics and analysis of the United States, the power structures that prop it up and its hegemonic post-colonial imperial world policies. But as a human being that has often been targetted, with or without justification, on the end of insider quasi-anti-intellectual white washing rhetoric of the type used by Dr. West, I refuse to allow that sort of stupidity into my critiques of the problematic positions of black elites.

And let's be clear. Dr. West was rightfully critiquing the fact that President Obama has continued the neo-liberal policies of the United States, and he has most certainly not held Wall Street accountable for the shit mess they have put the working folks of this country in.

But guess what, Dr. West? The WAY you say your message is as important as the message itself. And the "blacker than thou," manner in which you delivered your critique makes you into a tool of the Master, so let me remind you of what our sweet sister Audre Lorde had to say:

"The Master's tools will never dismantle the Master's house."

Since you are now the arbiter of all things Negro and the self-appointed guardian of the Gates of Righteous Blackness, you might want to remember that.

I respect Dr. West's research and contributions to the academy as well as to Black American's understanding of themselves, but if the good doctor is going to show his black ass then I am more than happen to cut a switch and remind him of exactly how we do things in the black community.

Have at it!

A Love Letter to Minnesota

Dear Minnesota:

You have been going through it lately, haven't you? You, my beloved homeland, have been having a Hell of a few months (after eight years of being abused by your former governor, that asshole, Tim "Satan's Bitch" Pawlenty). I thought maybe when my old boss, Mark Dayton, was elected governor, perhaps you would get some TLC, maybe a little therapy, and perhaps, with Betty Tisel's community sings bringing people together, some good old fashioned healing time.

But a peculiar thing happened on the way to the polls. There was a mass outbreak of schizoid behavior in Minnesota (I blame solar flares and rampant Tea Bagging), and even though Emmer had his ass handed to him and Dayton was handed the keys to the governor's mansion, the same folks across the state, for the first time in modern memory, gave majorities to the Republicans in both houses of Minnesota's state legislature.

(I am still not convinced that this irregular behavior wasn't the direct result of a massive bad batch of lutefisk served up to the good Lutherans just before Election Day. In fact, I suspect GOP foul play and will be asking the FDA to formally investigate).

And true to form, once the GOP took over in the state capitol, despite a massive budget crisis in Minnesota, disregarding ridiculous unemployment, and turning their back on a Minnesota tradition of justice (imagine what this country would be like if Hubert Humphrey had never been born), the GOP have decided that their top priority is to spend all their energy and resources getting an amendment proposal on the 2012 ballot to ban same gender marriage in Minnesota.

Pardon my French, L'Etoile du Nord, but WHAT THE FUCK?

Ignoring a poll a couple of weeks ago stating that a strong majority of Minnesotans favor gay marriage and oppose the amendment, despite allowing a hatemonger minister INVITED by the GOP to give the opening prayer at the state capitol, despite Prop 8 being smacked down, despite the 14th amendment and Artcile 4 section 1 of the U.S. Constitution, despite the Navy, for a brief moment--though it has since been rescinded, ordering its chaplains to perform gay marriages in states where it is legal, despite ALL THE REAL WORK THAT NEEDS TO BE DONE, your wayward and fucked up children have decided that fighting the love of two individuals and their fundamental right to enoy the privileges of marriage (don't take my word for it....read the 1967 Loving v. Virginia UNANIMOUS Supreme Court opinion establishing marriage as a fundamental right that can not be abridged based on an arbitrary classification such as race) takes priority over the economic and general well being of the people of Minnesota.

And now, social justice organizations that should be spending their sparse resources on truly fundamental issues are going to be forced to spend their time fighting a hateful amendment that, in the end, will either fail or be struck down by the courts, will create rifts and divisions in a time when we need unity, and will mean that broader and more impactful issues such as health care, immigration reform, democracy reform, and other broader peace and justice issues will be neglected. And, seeing as how Minnesotans are the best educated people in the country with the best public schools, I know, Minnesota, that you know that this is EXACTLY what the Republicans want. If we are too busy dumping millions of dollars and all of our energy and focus in fighting this ballot measure, we won't have the time, energy, or attention span to watch them closely as they try to really fuck the people.

And if that weren't enough my sweet Mother. Last weekend a tornado tore through one of the poorest neighborhoods in one of the poorest sections of Minneapolis, killing at least one person, wounding many others, and leaving thousands with damaged or unoccupiable homes, including the parents of several of my good friends. The community has pulled together and folks from all of the city are doing what the GOP in the State Legislature doesn't conceptually get....they are pitching in to help and support strangers, folks they don't know, and people that they would otherwise never have met...BECAUSE IT IS THE RIGHT THING TO DO. Or, should I say..the Left thing to do.

I love you, Minnesota. Even though I am now living over a thousand miles away in another city and another state with its own set of troubles and worries, my heart and soul belong to Minnesota. I'll be back one day, but until then I am going to encourage folks to send thoughts, prayers, and money to you to help rebuild North Minneapolis and to help defeat this Hate Amendment that will be on the ballot in 2012.

And, listen to your gay prophet, Minnesota. In 2012, Michelle Bachmann will lose her seat in Congress, Barack Obama will carry Minnesota, the DFL will retake both houses of the legislature, the marriage amendment will be defeated and you, Minnesota, will finally get a chance to heal from a decade of abuse and neglect by the very people elected to love you and care for you best.

Miss you tons.

Love always,
Brandon

PS If you see Betty, Sarah, Susan, Rocki, Luca, Cathy, Dawn, my Mom, Pete, Deb, Jesus, Xtina, Pookie, Wifey, or any of my other loved ones...please give them a big old Land O' Lakes hug from me.

Body Beautiful...

"And where is the body..."



I love Salt-n-Pepa....a black, feminist, sexually empowered hip hop group from the early 90s? Clutch the pearls and call Tupac back from the dead.

One of my favorite songs by this hallmark group was featured in the opening credits of Too Wong Foo Thanks For Everything Julie Newmar: "Body Beautiful." It's a song about loving your body and who you are without taking on the body image baggage of the world. With queer men suffering from body dysmorphism and eating disorders at the same rates experienced by women, I have more than a passing familiarity with the need to love ones body. Though I have never struggled with eating disorders (other than the disorder of loving to eat all the damn time), I have always struggled with body image.

As an adult, I have weighed anywhere from 150 pounds (when I was living in Puerto Rico, eating beans and rice every day, swimming a half mile every afternoon and running a mile every morning) to climbing up to 210 pounds (of pure anti-muscle)in 2003 when I was unemployed, depressed, and sat in my house lamenting my recent HIV diagnosis. I have been more and less muscular, more and less skinny, and throughout all of it, even though the numbers on the scale changed radically, even when I was at my skinniest and/or most toned, my eyes zeroed in on any available flaw: a scar here, stretch marks there and the greatest of all sins....the ever present...BACK FAT!

At one point I could wear my friend Karly's board shorts. Karly is all of 5'4" and a marathon runner...and even then.....I STILL saw myself as overweight or out of proportion or whatever message of the moment was running through my brain. As if!

Over the last couple of months, as I have been looking for work, I have been spending a lot of quality time at the Gold's Gym. In fact, for the last six or seven weeks, I have been going to the gym twice a day for about an hour or so at a time for probably six days a week. And thanks to some nutrient support garnered from Eva's Natural Foods in the West Village, I, for the first time, have pecs that I can move independent of one another and my ass has started to bend space/time and defy gravity.

And guess what...even though dudes at the gym that once never glanced in my direction now I catch boldly staring at me and/or make sure to say hello to me when I am in their general area, my eyes still zero in on that touch of back fat or the stretch marks by my arm pits or the fact that my butt doesn't have those hot side dimples quite yet.

Ummmm what the fuck, Batman.

And then, of course, there is the anger at the boys that never gave me the time of day now that are offering me their watches, mixed with the straight up love of the attention, and then peppered with the anger at myself for finding more worth in the stares of this or that muscle queen than in my own eyeballs when I look in the mirror. (And don't even get me started about what it means to have HIV living behind these pecs and underneath this skin...and what that may or may not mean and/or how it may or may not affect the appreciative glances I now am receiving...that is another blog entry).

But, I figure if I am doing all this personal growth work on myself, trying to stay away from old behaviors that didn't serve me well, and trying to become a better, healthier blah blah blah person...I should probably have a good chat with the man in the mirror (MISS YOU MICHAEL!).

So, each week (I started last week) around Friday or so...I am going to take a shirtless picture and post it on Facebook. I am going to love my body come Hell or high water, stretch marks, back fat, stares, no stares and all. WERQ (out)!

My Nomination for the Nobel Peace Prize: Marisol Valles Garcia

Fifteen minutes ago, I had never heard of Marisol Valles Garcia. Now, with complete honesty, true hope, and with an open and loving heart I sincerely hope this 21 year old mother of an infant is nominated for and wins the Nobel Peace Prize.

Let me tell you why.

Seven months ago, this 21 year old young woman, accepted the job as chief of police in a small border town ripped apart by drug violence. Her predecessor was beheaded by an assasin in the employ of the local cartel. For the last six months, this brave woman had received death threats, and yet she continued to do her work. And the work is what is truly amazing. In a town of extreme poverty, where many women had been widowed by the drug wars between the cartels, Marisol Valles Garcia envisioned a new kind of policing. Instead of guns, she hired 13 women that carried hope. Instead of law enforcement, she focused on the most effective type of prevention work: supporting and encouraging young people to stay in school and further their education. She refused to take sides or to take bribes. She made clear to the cartels that she had no interest in attacking them; she only wanted to bring some hope and peace back to the town where she was born and raised.

The international media called her the bravest woman in Mexico. Others are calling her Mexico's Rosa Parks. I am calling her a peace warrior, a justice soldier, a life changing force of nature that put her own life on the line in the face of extreme adversity in order to try and make a difference.

Her reward: she was forced to flee mexico with her husband, siblings, parents, and child. A few days later, her mother's home in Praxedis G. Guerrero was ransacked. (What an apt name for a town that bred such a powerful warrior...guerrero, in Spanish, means warrior).

She is currently seeking asylum in the U.S. and living in an undisclosed location in Texas. I pray that she remains safe and out of the reach of those that would do her harm. She has lost everything that she had, and she can never return to Mexico. It is clear that if she does, she and her loved ones will be killed.

According to the will of Alfred Nobel, the peace prize should be awarded to:

...one part to the person who shall have done the most or the best work for fraternity between nations, the abolition or reduction of standing armies and for the holding and promotion of peace congresses.

In practice the award has been given to individuals ranging from environmental activists to those that have fought for democracy and freedom, from the founder of the International Red Cross to Daw Aung San Suu Kyi.

It is my firm belief that if Dr. Nobel were still alive, he would hand this amazing woman the $1.5 million dollar award himself and call it a day.

This woman's story brought tears to my eyes. Que viva Mexico...que viva esta mujer con tanto couraje. When the people rise up and reclaim their lives and communities...oppressors know true fear. They do not fear bullets; they fear when the people remember their self-worth. A single bullet may end a life, but a single individual that remembers her worth can end tyrrany.

I hope next December, Marisol receives that call in the middle of the night letting her know that the world knows, understands, and values her sacrifice and what she tried to do for her people. Much love to you amor...the people of the world that know what justice looks like...see it clearly in you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

One Liner of the Week Award: Myriam Fizazi-Hawkins

A little over a week ago, I had the distinct pleasure of meeting my good friend Kamal's sister, Myriam, when she made her way up to the city from the suburbs of Washington, DC. I fell in love with her pretty much right away; she is my kind of woman. Myriam is smart, hilarious, beautiful, and politically savvy in a very broad and nuanced way. If she weren't married and a woman, I would have proposed to her right there during coffee.

A couple of days ago, as I was preparing myself for the Rapture (T-Minus 38 minutes and counting)...and after carefully selecting a chic ensemble that I think is perfect for meeting my maker....I posted a status update on Facebook saying that I was going to be quite upset if Jesus decides not to show up today.

Myriam responded:

"I wouldn't be surprised if Jesus decides not to show, especially with the way immigrants are treated in this country."

See what I mean? That's marriage proposal material right there.

And that, my Left Behind readers, is the One Liner of the Week.

Interview with a Song Bird: Jamila Anderson aka Calliope Muse

If all you beautiful readers out there haven't yet noticed, I have some of the most amazing friends in the world. Comedians, actors, drag artists, poets, writers of all genres, organizers, lovers (a couple of haters...but I love them too), and musicians. The interview that I am publishing today is with another Minnesota ex-pat living in New York City (we have our own social group in NYC called Minne-Apple in the Big Apple...kookers!). Jamila Andersono aka Calliope Muse is a fierce actor, musician, and friend. Check out her new single, Kryptonite on iTunes! And thank you Jamila for this awesome interview. WERQ!!!!!

1. I met your gorgeous self probably seven or eight years ago in Minneapolis. At the time, you had the Minneapolis Theater scene by the throat. Now adays, you seem to be focusing more on music than theater. Why the change?

YOU'RE GORGEOUS! Thanks for the props! I have to say I was pretty happy with my acting career and didn't really plan to change. I've always been a “singer” but I certainly had no aspirations to be in the music biz at the time. Then an opportunity was presented to me that seemed like a real shot so I switched gears. I ain't no dummy – even though I thought I had my plans the Universe gave me the chance to do something on another level so I knew I had to go for it. I happened to catch the eye of a producer while waiting for a Minneapolis city bus one day and eventually he and I had crossed paths again and he revealed that he was a producer with his own label and studio and had earned a Grammy as a musician, etc... I don't want to go to far into this because it turned out to be kind of sour for me in the end. But I managed to have a short career as a Rock singer with my own band and did some minor touring, local gigs, oddly to NASCAR races and The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland. Eventually my single charted Billboard's Hot 100 chart for 21 consecutive weeks and peaked at #15. So despite the fact that the whole thing crashed and burned, I still have that. I fearfully went back to acting and was really touched by how well received I was upon my return. Rohan Preston even wrote a cool article about it in the Star Tribune. After the drama with the music, I was happy to try and forget about it and really wanted to move on and get back to my acting roots. But ha ha, once again, when we think we know the grand plan for our lives... Much to my surprise, music fell in my lap again about 2 years later when I got a wild hair up my ass and moved to New York. I hope I don't sound arrogant saying that it just fell into my lap – it's just that it was truly not on my radar in either situation. I came to New York with little planned just looking to live in a place I always wanted to be and possibly up my acting game but I met an amazing person who, after swapping stories days after we met, turned out to be a Grammy-nominated producer and former Hip Hop star. NICE. Yes, I sang rock music but that was the more unfamiliar lane... I grew up on Soul, R&B and Hip Hop so I was excited at the shot of sing over his tracks. Eventually, he let me hear some of his stuff and I was more than SOLD. I wanted in!! But I knew it wasn't going to be just that easy. So I made a bootleg demo on my laptop with one of his beats and emailed it to him. After waiting for an excruciating week and creating various ways to ask if he'd listened to it yet, he finally responded “I couldn't stop playing it. I played it over and over.” We knew we had made some dope shit together. I demoed another and another... but the first demo lit the fire. That was how my current single came about. He also named me 'Muse' because he felt inspired by what I was creating with his beats and wanted to create even more, which he would, when I was around. And I feel equally as inspired by him so it is a match made in heaven. Now, don't get me wrong, just because I didn't actively seek this career, I still love it. I'm hungry for it and equally as dedicated to it as I am my acting. I think it was something I ran from for a long time, being the daughter of a singer/musician. Sometimes the Universe has to show you who you are supposed to be; sometimes we get in our own way thinking we know what we are supposed to do but as an artist you must be open to using your gifts wherever and wherever they are called upon. That being said, I used my gift to write a song about my hoo-ha. Let's discuss a bit later.

2. You just dropped a new single, Kryptonite, under the name of Calliope Muse featuring Chedda Bang. Tell me about how you decide to use the stage name Calliope Muse.

About the name, I touched on it a little bit in that previous question/answer... I was named Muse because of the effect I have on my producer, artistically. I like to be creative, share ideas and collaborate and think outside of the box so I think that can get people's creative juices flowing too. I had heard something like that before and just laughed it off and took it as harmless flirtation but this time I saw I really did have a positive effect on other musicians/artists whenever I was in the studio (not to toot my own horn, this is what I was TOLD – and I'm not sure that is the case with acting, ha ha). But we all know there is a huge band named Muse so I had to find a twist to the name so I could keep the name that meant something to me and not get sued. I did some reading about the Greek Muses and learned about Calliope, who is the wisest and eldest of the Muses and carried a writing tablet and whatnot. I knew that was me. So hence, Calliope Muse. I also changed my name when I had the Rock band to “J”- no one called me by my name. The reason I change my name is because I feel that when I'm on stage as a singer I am another person in a way. Calliope Muse has a character of her own and taking on that personality is important to me and allows me to see the full vision for my music. Calliope is a side of me, not a made up character... In other words, Calliope says and does things the regular me wouldn't get away with.... Calliope is my more confident, street smart side. She has stories of her own to tell.

3. The song Kryptonite is the SHIT (and available via iTunes for $.99). In the song, you own the power of your sexuality (and let me tell you I know more than one woman back home that has been hoping and praying that you will take a dip into the coochie pool)....talk to me about working as a female hip-hop artist, that is a fierce feminist, in a musical genre where the commercial side of the genre (versus some of the independent and amazing political hip hop artists) that is not known for its feminist politics or its valuation of women.

First, THANK YOU. I have to side with the gay men on the topic of coochie, so my apologies ladies, it's not going to happen but I am very flattered nonetheless (and am rather curious about who is on this list!) I should probably leave some mystique for PR purposes but I'm not really about bullshitting. Much love and respect though, always. Moving on. Yes, Kryptonite is my retort to all of those ego-maniacal men who feel that their penis is so amazing it should be wearing a cape - I playfully call him “Captain Save-a-Hoe”. You know, the guy who thinks he's gonna whip you into submission with his awesome cock? Yeah. This is to that guy. “You think you're Superman? Not tonight. You heard 'em right, they call me Kryptonite.” The truth is, after some noteworthy feedback, it turns out I have some “skills” of my own and I got sick of hearing all that talk when I was the one coming out on top – pun intended. I know that isn't exactly “meaningful” in the literal sense but I believe that a lot of women are taught to be submissive, to “take it” in many areas of life. Sex is very related to power. For obviously sexual reasons, but also for self-esteem, self-empowerment reasons I believe it is important for a woman to feel sensually and sexually powerful. She may CHOOSE to play the submissive roll but she owns her body and her choices and her libido. Does that make me a feminist? I don't know. I am the kind of woman who enjoys chivalry but I ain't no punk, no what I mean? I love a gentleman but I am very capable. You'll learn a lot about how I feel as a woman when my full album is released. I go in on some subjects that will have you testifyin'... Which maybe is a good segue into the next part of your question. I don't know if I can define myself as a Hip-Hop artist by way of my part because I don't consider myself a rapper by any means. That shit is hard. But I do kind of blur the line a little (when you hear Kryptonite you'll get it) and I have authentic Hip-Hop tracks so my music will be played on Hip-Hop stations. But I really do care that people know I don't call myself a rapper. The whole point of who Calliope Muse is is to speak for a woman that I feel isn't really being represented in main stream Hip-Hop. I do not see myself in any of these women whose records get played 1000 times a day on every station. I buy my purse from the same place I buy my floor cleaner and I really do not care for wearing high heels, even though I can and will rock those bitches. But like, where is the regular but still super fly chick? She's down-to-earth but not “neo-soul”. She's strong and sexy but not raunchy. She is feminine but looks amazing in jeans, a t-shirt and some Chucks. Everyone is so over-the-top and caricatured right now - who can keep up with that? How is that real and how does anyone really relate? So my music and style is about that chick who is your trusted friend, the cool big sister – she is real, the girl in your hood but she still shines like a star and holds her own in the world whether she's got a dollar in her pocket or not.

4. You are beloved by queer men and you have spoken proudly, to me, of the acceptance you have seen from your producers towards queer folks...talk to me a bit about your work with the queer community...and a bit about why you are writing a song, as you told me, for your gays.

I work with men who are grown-ups, nawmean? They have gay associates/friends/family members. They are mature ethical men and respect that people are who they are and don't really give a shit who you're sleeping with. I won't say we have a rainbow flag hanging in the studio, per se, but if you are respectful of them, they are respectful of you, no matter who you are or what your background is. We do the music because we love it and if you come to us with a positive attitude and on good terms then that's all that matters - it's all about the music and nothing else. I, however, do love me some gays! I worked a lot with a theatre in Minneapolis (Pillsbury House Theatre) that addressed GLBT concerns and lifestyles in an awesome way and I began to not only become educated but formed some real friendships that allowed me to have some meaningful insight about the queer community. My love comes from recognizing the strength and courage it takes to be Out in this shitty world that does nothing but judge and persecute you if you are an “other”. I am an other - a Black woman, more specifically bi-racial so I can relate to that “we're not sure what you are but you're not like us” dynamic. I have Lupus so I have that stigma to work around as well. And you know, my mama just raised me right. Equal rights. So at any given time you may find me going off on someone in defense of the gay community. Sense of humor aside, I will check someone using hate speech in a hot minute. I take up for my friends. And let's face it, some of the most colorful, audacious humans in the world are the gays so how can you not love them! Hence my song. It's too sassy for hetero pants, if you know what I mean, so I must write it for my sassy gays – specifically the sassy gays since all gays are not the same, lesson number one. I don't wanna spill the beans but one of the lines is “Bitch, you're fierce. She ain't as cute as you.” It's going to be too fun.


5. First theater, now music, what's next in the life of Jamila Anderson aka Calliope Muse?

I am really just getting started with my career as Calliope Muse. The single is out on iTunes but we are getting a lot together as we speak so we can officially drop it. We will be shooting my music video in the next month or so, I am really excited about that. And I am collaborating in the studio with some major Hip Hop talents, like ChipFu of the Fu Schnikens who has been a blast to work with. (Some other names I can't leak yet but we will let you know if you stay plugged in to me...) So I have my work cut out for me for sure. We are releasing “Kryptonite” first on the FantoMusic Audiodrome album, which is a showcase of my producer Fantom's producing skills and the artists in our crew. This album is bananas, you'll love every track. Then we will later release my full album – total crack rock. But that is just the beginning... I am still an actor so that is always in my bag of tricks. You just never know where I'll pop up!

6. Thank you for spending some time with me! Where can folks find more information about you and your work/performances/releases?

I am on the usual social networking sites – facebook.com/calliopemusemusic and Twitter @TheRealCMuse. For a free listen to Kryptonite you can go to reverbnation.com/calliopemuse or buy it for $.99 on iTunes. Just stay tuned in with me and FantoMusic Audiodrome and we will announce important dates as they come. We really need that underground support right now because we believe this music is about the people and for the people and not the red-taped and industry bullshit. So check it out, let me know what you think.

Brandon, most patient friend of mine. THANK YOU FOR YOUR TIME AND SPACE ON YOUR DOPE BLOG!!! Love.

Calliope Muse is a real woman’s storyteller – telling tales of her life’s passions in the form of love and sexuality, frustration and anger. She fills the gap between the polished, glam R&B crooner and the over-the-top, ultra-raunchy rapstress by way of her identifiable “every-woman” style of lyrics and honest, lusty, heart-felt vocals. With Grammy-nominated, Staten Island Hip-Hop legend, FANTOM producing and supplying the dopest authentic hip-hop tracks, her music goes beyond thinking; it is about feeling and is a much-needed remedy to the redundant over-played and over-used themes and sounds of Hip-Hop and R&B of the current market. Calliope Muse is a true artist and a triple threat: Singer, Writer and Actress. She is awarded, versatile and experienced in the business of music – all while being fresh, innovative and relevant. Her latest single, “Kryptonite” (featured on the “Takers” Official Motion Picture Mixtape) will be officially releasing in the Spring of 2011 on the FANTOMUSIC AUDIODROME Album, with a self-titled debut solo album releasing soon after.

Calliope Muse – “You want this. You need this.”

Family=Love

Anyone that knows me and/or reads my blog or has been to one of my poetry readings in the last two years or is a Facebook friend knows about my Honey Bun Aunt Sis. Anyone that has stopped by this blog in the last week knows that last Tuesday, Aunt Sis left this world for the next one. She had bone cancer, which is incurable, but she fought it tooth and nail for two years. When the end came, she went in peace in her sleep. My Dad, though technically her nephew, was one of her sons...considered such by Honey Bun as well as her four biological children. He was listed as her son in the funeral program and it was my Daddy that was by her side most often for the last two years and even before that. I knew that when she died, he was going to have a hard time. Daddy tried to keep his game face on, especially with me, but I knew he was hurting, and he let it out in his own time, surrounded by people that loved her as much as he did.

Now she's home with Jesus. She was a woman of faith, and I know that her faith and love was rewarded. I've written before that I believe God sends angels to walk amongst us...unpresupposing folks that come into this sometimes hurtful, harmful, painful, crazy world to remind us that there is always love. That was my Honey Bun.

Last week, I was in rough shape. There was a three day gap between when I received the news and when I would be able to get to my family. I am still unemployed and David was scheduled to work out of town on Wednesday and Thursday. We needed the money, so I had to wait until he came back so that we could pack and leave. The reality of the living is that we need to keep working cuz the dead have no needs. I was soul weary and heart sick on our drive from NYC to Ronceverte, WV. I was anxious to get to my family, and my Daddy, as he always does when we are travelling to get together, was texting me about every 15 minutes to check on our progress. When we finally pulled up to the Holiday Inn Express in Lewisburg, I basically bolted from the car. My Dad came around the corner, and up the road came walking my great-aunt and uncle Lilly and Sherman and my cousin Buddy. Right then I knew what I needed. I needed my family.

Like my Aunt Sis, my family is crazy as Hell. As we walked from the car, I looked in the window of the hotel lobby and saw a room full of black folks. I knew they belonged to me and that I belonged to them. My sisters had arrived from Atlanta about 15 minutes before we got there, and I walked into a room of familiar as well as unknown faces. But even the faces I didn't recognize were clearly people to whom I was related. Aunt Barb, Aunt Bud, Aunt Sister Mary Jerome, my sisters, my cousin Wendell and all the others had the stamp of those hills on their face. And damn if they weren't all beautiful.

Over the course of the weekend I became re-acquainted with family I hadn't seen in years, met family I had never met, and met at least 100 people who weren't biologically related but were people that loved my Aunt Sis. The church was packed, the service was rockin' and even though there were tears and sadness, hearts broken and fences to be mended, at all tims and every step of the way there was someone telling a story to make folks laugh. The Lacy's are a folk built for joy. We are an entire family of story tellers and flame keepers. Eloquence is a family trait as is a wicked sense of humor. And we are beautiful, so so so beautiful from the octogenerians down to the infants, the Lacy's, as my sister says, have good genes. Genes or not...it was the laughter and the love, the soul food and the singing, the praise and the memories, the open doors, open homes and open hearts....the family...that made us so damn beautiful.

I am sad that my Aunty Sis has left us. I am sure there will be tears in my future, but I left those beautiful emerald hills with so much joy, and a committment to knowing those kin more deeply, and that is a gift that I know my Aunty Sis wanted all of us to walk away with.

Family equals love.

Holding Our Own Accountable: Thank You NY State Sen. Diane Savino

This morning, I woke up freezing in my apartment. New York (and seemingly the rest of the northern United States) missed the memo that it is May. I want to fly up into the heliosphere and punch the Sun in the face.

After taking the Mimz for her morning constitutional and walking passed the sink full of dirty dishes that will, at some point, claim the better part of an hour or so this morning, I logged into my Facebook account.

The top entry on my news feed was a post by NY State Sen. Diane Savino. It was a post in response to a statement released by a member of the Oneida Nation regarding the use of the code word Geronimo by the U.S. government as a moniker for the operation against Osama Bin Laden (Dumb Obama. Dumb Sec. Gates. Dumb Leon Panetta. Dumb dumb dumb dumb dumb). I learned very quickly that the gentleman that wrote the letter, despite the letter's spot on criticism of the use of the name and history of Gerinmo and the impact on First Nation's people, isn't the best character running around Indian country.

Unfortunately, Sen. Savino chose a poor moment to make a statement about this gentleman's shenanigans (and fiscal malfeasance).

Let me NOT be the person to throw stones whilst I live inside a big old glass house surrounded by glass covered in glass in glass pajamas eating glass for breakfast. I, myself, have more than once, in anger or annoyance, popped off at the mouth (and/or fingertips) and posted something to Facebook that I hadn't thought through. Thankfully, I am a part of a broader community that has no qualms about letting me know, almost always firmly yet lovingly, that what I have written or said does not serve justice nor is it reflective of the person they know me to be. Sometimes the things I've written flippantly have stung folks in ways that I never intended nor would ever do intentionally. Though, like most people, I do not, in the moment, love the feeling of being held accountable (usually my cheeks catch fire, my back starts to get up, shame starts to creep in and then anger at the person that summoned the shame---actually me...but better to blame the accountability vessel.) After those emotions run their course, usually just a minute or so, I try make amends around whatever it is that I did or said. I also acknowledge the love and committment to my personal growth that is evidenced by someone taking the moment to hold me accountable to my words and actions with love and respect.

Don't get me wrong...now and again....I let the other person have it or politely honor their feelings without removing the offending item or statement; there are times when I stand by whatever thing it is that may have caused offense (just because someone feels offended doesn't mean that what you've said or written isn't truth).

We all make mistakes. I make them all the damn time.

This morning was one of those moments where Sen. Savino's statement of annoyance was absolutely well founded...but tying it into the place where it appeared was not cool. If Sen. Savino were a Republican or one of those queer hating faux Democrats that seemed to be sprinkled throughout the state, I would have cut and pasted the Facebook conversation verbatim and then tore the good senator a new poop hole.

I actually highly and deeply respect Sen. Savino. She has been an amazing advocate for justice in Albany and for the queer community, and so, instead, I shared with her my feelings. The senator responded respectfully, made the choice to remove the posting and the thread, and sent me private message letting me know she had done so. Thank you, Sen. Savino for your integrity and for making the choice to get your message/point across in a different way. If the rest of your colleagues around the state and in the U.S. Congress were as responsive and open to dialogue as are you, perhaps we would not be facing so many of the partisan bullshit problems that have us stuck on ugly in New York and the U.S. as a whole.

When we take a moment to honestly share our feelings and offer to hold our own accountable, we demonstrate what community and growth is really about. If we are only ever willing to step up and stand up to the "bad guys," or those that are often times far far from us in our beliefs and views, then we aren't making sure our own house is clean. Let those others live in a dirty house (as long as they keep their yard clean and their trash out of streets, I don't care how filthy their living room is...as long as they don't have body parts in the freezer or tongueless ex-lovers in leather gear in a box under the stairs). I value when others hold me accountable (and let's be clear...passive aggressive "teaching" moments are not accountability...accountability is when you bring your questions and concerns DIRECTLY and RESPECTFULLY). My esteem for Sen. Savino has gone up exponentially after this morning's brief exchange. Thank you, senator.

PS On the topic of the use of Geronimo's name as code for Osama Bin Laden is a great, clear, and succint statement from the Ononadaga Nation Council of Chiefs

PPS And here is a great article by Steven Newcomb of the Indigenous Law Institute on the same subject.