Love is Stronger than Pride, but Boundaries Must Abide

By Brittany and Candace

One of the hardest things in life is realizing there are boundaries, or limitations, on what we can accomplish, how we can act, or what we can do. Sometimes these boundaries are arbitrary, or socially conceived based on the schema and expectations external forces have for us. Other times they are tangible rules and regulations imposed by people we despise, revere, or respect. It’s true that “the sky is the limit” to what we may conceive, and possibly achieve, but in our dealings with others we must adhere to norms. We are not programmed to consider boundaries in the “emotional” sense, however, until it is often “too late.”

Setting boundaries for ourselves is often the reaction to someone carelessly treading over and through our sacred places, rather than the pre-meditation.  This seems counter-intuitive but we are a society that romanticizes the act of “falling” in love and favors notions of kismet, vulnerability, and the delicious randomness of that time. We walk around dazed and ill prepared for the ways lack of consideration and drama (that is independent of you and even indiscriminate) can wreck our inherent fragility. Like virgins that may be new to the act of sex, but may be familiar with intimacy we believe that our previous experiences with hurt can prepare us for the shameful realization that our essence, our goodness was diminished (even temporarily) for intentions that were not our own.

But as with anything subject to time, we heal and we learn from our mistakes. One of the biggest lessons is that boundaries do not necessarily “restrict” you from love.  They do not bar positivity and light from coming in, they slow down baggage, weight, material (anything that is not light). In healing, many of us may identify the boundaries that need to be set either with the one that hurt us or (even better) with the ones that may love us in the future. Slowly we celebrate our new-found certainty and restored sanctity. We regain our confidence and hope. We become happier and, because of this, our light shines brighter.

This light inevitably attracts those broken ones that hurt us. They come back for validation that you are still prone to their magic, or for reassurance.  They are entranced by this new facet or they cannot bear the thought that you have found something they seek. And because this energy is selfish it rocks the foundation you just built. What are you supposed to do and why is this new glitch so devastating?

We've all had the dreaded encounter of seeing your ex for the first time after your breakup. You go from being the reasonably composed, socially adjusted, emotionally mature woman you've been working on getting back to being, to a wreck in ten seconds flat. For those of you who have watched countless episodes of 'Sex in the City' like me, this is basically the Carrie-and-Big-effect. Its how a sophisticated, educated and dazzling woman can morph into a cast member of ‘Basketball Wives’ at the speed-of-light.

"The Carrie-and-Big-effect." Photo from annawalker1992.blogspot.com

But what happens when you move past this stage? When you are no longer emotionally overwrought but merely indifferent to the presence of your former flame? You wish them no ill-will and in fact you genuinely desire their happiness, but that is where it ends. You're not interested in re-opening the lines for mutual friends, participating in group hangouts or even getting together to reminisce about the highlights of your failed relationship. While your heart has been mended, it seems as though your ex is still seeking closure. The young man who appeared so callous as you cried about the ending of a love you thought was forever is suddenly distraught by the notion that his all-access pass to your mind, body and soul has been revoked. And why? After all of this time why now?

My best-friend Morgan, who is a sage when it comes to dynamics between men and women, best explains it as this, “Women are more fluid than men. To picture it we are more linear while they are cyclical. A woman begins to mourn a relationship the moment it's over, while a man may not process his emotions about the same event until months or even years later.” Those months or years of emotional delay can be filled with seeming happiness and maybe a new girlfriend or two, but his day of mourning will still come, and he will be on your doorstep, the other end of your line, or showing up in the mentions of your Twitter feed looking for closure.

So what are you supposed to do? What is your obligation to this person whom you only have the best wishes for, but who you do not wish to have as a part of your life?

The short answer: Do whatever feels right to you.

Too often as women we are herded into archaic notions of gender roles that serve only to our detriment. I am reminded of my well-intentioned mother telling me to still be nice to my ex, even after he had hop-scotched all over my heart and blew in and out of my life leaving destruction in his wake. And I realized my mother meant well, but she was of a different time. A time when women were praised for their politeness and compliance. And a time where “causing a scene” was a heinous offense. But ladies it's 2012 and we live in a world where we are truly free to do whatever the hell we want. YOLO anyone?

So when you get that random text from your ex, or see a friend request from a familiar-but-forgotten-face remember the progress you've made and the work you put in to move on from the situation you shared with that person. And don't let anyone cross your personal boundary and ruin your state of peace in an effort to find themselves. They have their journey and you should remain firmly planted in your own.

-- 

Brittany is a regular contributor; you can read her bio here. Candace is an NYU and Spelman-educated journalist currently completing a fellowship at the Village Voice in New York City.

When the Wicked Witch is brown: Teaching race and gender politics to kids

Once upon a time, I babysat to make ends meet. I had a handful of families on constant rotation covering their child care as a personal summer camp counselor, the date night savior, and watchful eyes so mommy & daddy can get some work done. When I wasn't sitting, I was teaching movement to small children. There were days when I rarely spoke to anyone over the age of 5. My vocabulary became very basic. As I communicated with little people often, I found myself as a liaison between their world and the grown up world.

Recently I babysat two of my faves for the first time in a long while. We were reading bedtime stories, and the younger of two sisters insisted we read Captain Underpants. To be brief, this book is disgusting. It's a children's book yes, but built entirely around potty humor. The more I read, the more I was grossed out and the older sister agreed. Then she remarked, "This book is for boys! Gross, disgusting boys who play in toilets!" I was struck by how this 6 year old had gendered a story without a gender. I shot back to her, "But your sister likes it! And she's not a boy. Being disgusting is not a girl versus boy thing," I explained. "It's just a disgusting thing." She wasn't convinced. To her, gross humor = boy. I guess her sister just didn't count. How sad, I thought.

I pondered how she had gotten to that equation in her head. What clues and cues had she picked up on to lead her to that inference? Or had someone just said it to her outright? Boys will be boys. Boys have cooties. Boys are dirty. Boys are gross.

The next day we held an informal sharing and celebration for my children's dance classes at the YMCA. The ballet class of four 5 & 6 year old girls danced Sleeping Beauty and in the very fair world of Pre-K and K, they were all the princess, each crowned with a tiara... and they chose their favorite boy from school to be a kiss blowing prince... and Ms. Sydnie to be the evil witch who casts the sleeping spell.

Even at 5 years old, these girls were all about costumes and props. They decided I should wear an evil witch outfit and I needed a magic wand. As I pondered what I should wear as my "evil" outfit, the first thing to come to mind was my burgundy dress & brown shrug. Burgundy is the antithesis to their light pink leotards, skirts and tights. Burgundy is dark. I am dark.

I got nervous and stopped myself as I searched through my closet for the dress. It bugged me to equate dark to evil. I didn't like that I was teaching and reinforcing light as right, and dark as wrong. Am I teaching my ballerinas (who happen to be caucasian and asian) that to wear dark colors (or just to look dark) signifies evil? Will this carry over subtly into all their psyche so that they will always associate dark with wrong?

Maybe the inner monologue was a little over the top, but not far fetched when just the day before I witnessed another child of the same age and relatively similar upbringing and exposure come to an oversimplified conclusion about an entire gender. 

*standing on soap box*

We have to start teaching children to take people on an individual basis. Of course, that would require adults to do the same, myself included. How many times today have you said some version of "Men are...," "Women are...," "Black people are...," "White people are...," etc.? Kids pick up on everything, and the first thing they do is repeat what they have seen and heard. I want the children I teach, babysit, and raise, to understand gender norms and racial stereotypes in our culture. But I also want them to be able to understand themselves as a human being who may or may not ascribe to these notions. Then, do unto others, as they do unto themselves.

It is an individual's actions that reveal their character, and each person regardless of gender and race may choose what those actions are. Because guess what? Gender and race are just some made up social constructs anyway! (Sidebar: I remember my sophomore year in college when Professor Glover wrote on the board - Race is a social construct. It's not real. - BLEW. MY. MIND.) 

*steps down off soap box*

Right before the performance one of the ballerinas asked, "Where is your evil costume?" I was wearing the burgundy dress. I pointed to it. "That's not evil!" She exclaimed. I was relieved.

"Well it's not the dress that makes me evil," I told her. "Really, it's what I do with my magic wand." I waved my sparkling wand in circles and squiggles above her head, and she giggled until she turned pink.

--

Sydnie L. Mosley is a dancer, choreographer and teaching artist who loves to write. Read more of her musings on race, gender, dance and life on Love Stutter.

West African Dance for the Soul

'Welcome to Black River' Conference 2012, photo by Damel Dieng

With blistered feet and throbbing limbs, we jumped into each movement line by line as if following Mama Kadiatou into battle. Our arms circled, propelled by a mixture of muscular strength, centrifugal force and pure will as we heeded to the beckoning drums ahead. Bodies flew. Necks rolled. I closed my eyes and enjoyed losing myself in the movement. 

In spite of the dozen or so drummers and Mama Kadiatou’s constant reminders, it is actually very hard for me to find these moments of mental suspension. Dance classes and workshops often feature audiences and mirrors, and my mind finds many points to linger on. Is the way Kya moves her hands the right way or the way Linsey does it? Daaang, my back is hurting right now. I hope this doesn’t end too late cause I have to do laundry and I still haven’t finished that assignment….. The list goes on. But in those rare occasions when I plunge into a movement that my body has come to own and the live drumming takes over, my heart soars and my mind empties out and all I can do is breathe and dance. 

Over the years I’ve taken West African dance classes sporadically here and there. There was the college class, the free community classes on 114^th between Frederick Douglass and Adam Clayton Powell in Harlem and of course dancing in front of the TV and at parties in Dakar. I’ve come to appreciate the art form, not just for its aesthetic beauty and high energy or the fact that it will literally whip you into shape, but also for the more subtle lessons on living it bestows on the communities it brings together. 

Mama Kadiatou Conte-Forte, the 58-year-old founder and artistic director of Balafon West African Dance Ensemble, comes off as a stern character upon first encounter. She routinely lectures her pupils, prefers to face-off drummers dancing with a powerful warrior-like expression and can certainly out dance most twenty-somethings. She is fierce. She has been in the U.S. since the early 80’s teaching dances from her home Guinea and neighboring Senegal, cooking and making deliciously spicy ginger juice for her many students or ‘children’ as she calls us, and preaching the values that she lives by, which are a mix of her traditional values about community from home, her womanist insistence on the strength and power of black women, and many nuggets of wisdom about business and health that she has picked up on her own journey. Every class or workshop is an opportunity to share these lessons; the dance is simply a part of the whole package. 

Last week Balafon hosted its first West African dance and drumming conference, ‘Welcome to Black River.’ Mama Kadiatou’s children or former students came to Pittsburgh from as far as Texas to participate in the three days of workshops and the performance. The guest of honor, Papa Assane Konte, a Senegalese dancer and founder of DC-based KanKouran West African Dance Company, also taught workshops and performed. Papa Assane Konte, at age 61, is a truly regal figure. He, like Mama, has a loyal following and at the end of each workshop would sit on a chair and have us gather round on the floor like kindergartners at story time to impart his wisdom. We eagerly obliged, for in these communities there is an implicit understanding that this dance is not just art or exercise, it’s a way of life that both Mama Kadiatou and Papa Assane Konte have mastered.

Their advice ranges from the simple, ‘if your bathroom and kitchen are nasty, you’re gonna get sick,’ to the profound, ‘if you have a grandmother, call her, love her, appreciate her. She reached through your parent to make you.’ Both teach to all age groups and encourage families to come together. Mama insists that parents teach their children how to tie their lapas properly, interact with adults and follow the lessons as part of their socialization process within a larger community. Papa encourages parents to let their children run free within dance community settings where, as in the proverbial African village or ‘back in the day’ in Brooklyn or Harlem, any adult can teach or admonish anyone’s child. Both are strong and healthy, advising us to be conscious consumers and maintain active lifestyles. They epitomize the beauty, power, confidence and strength that sometimes was, sometimes is, and can be an inclusive, safe and loving black community at its best. 

Sometimes things are more than what they seem. It has taken me time to realize what this activity and community mean to me. I know now that I need West African dance and the community that surrounds it to maintain some balance in my hectic life; I need it to consistently remind me of a deeper and slower path in which greetings and family time are necessities and conversations are full and relationships are wealth; and I need it to clear my head and unleash my spirit. It is art and exercise, but also a form of prayer and praise, love of community and love of self.

“Girls” isn’t really plural: A narrow view of color on the HBO Hit

I just watched all 4 episodes of “Girls” on HBO. I really, really, really enjoyed the dialogue and the plot. Obviously, as a 24 year old "girl", I and all of my friends can so relate to these young women and the tough things they face in the name of "finding themselves": pregnancy scares, job uncertainty, relationships growing stale, STIs, learning to care for yourself and not succumb to abusive people and situations. Girls is funny and honest, and tries very hard to not glamorize the complete circus that this time can feel like...

BUT...

I will agree with many of the critiques. I wasn't as up in arms about the lack of substantive characters/narratives including people of color, because honestly...most "middle-class/I've been coddled my entire life and now the real world is so 'hard'/I have the luxury of being in a quarter-life crisis" white women would NOT have meaningful relationships in real life with other women of color. Instead, women of color, that is Chicanas, black women, and Asian women may be relatively peripheral to a world that allows you the privilege of introspection, wanderlust, and unabashed disdain for working menial jobs. By no stretch of the imagination am I implying that meaningful interracial friendships and relationships are nonexistent or that the tropes present in “Girls” aren’t more indicative of class status rather than race; however, I believe that the narrative is fairly representative of a large slice of the population.

The show is spun through the lens of Hannah, a 24 year old, liberal arts graduate, a writer whose parents have just cut her off. Hannah’s parents are over-protective professors, she struggles with weight and self-esteem issues, and her acerbic wit is often misunderstood. She and her friends are complex characters simultaneously struggling to escape their insecurities while reveling in the fact that, at this age, life doesn’t have to make much sense. The plot unfolds somewhat haphazardly, yet brilliantly in each episode so that the viewer experiences layers of depth in each girl. There are no “good” or “bad” girls, even the douche-y love interest cannot be relegated to 2-dimensions so easily. This makes for great HBO programming. Unfortunately, the few glances of women of color are (surprise, surprise) narrow, stereotypical, and lacking nuance.

In episode 3, Hannah visits her friend Shoshannah, who is watching her favorite dating show on TV. In the show, each contestant has to unveil their “baggage” (their small, medium, and large secrets) at which point they are either chosen or sent home. One contestant was a black woman. Guess what her baggage was?

Small: She spends $1000 a month on weave, which host Jerry Springer deems “un-be-weave-able.”

Medium: She plans her wedding after the first date.

Large: She pokes holes in condoms.

Um, my biggest question after that scene was “Why?” not “Why would that imagery be so clearly assigned to the black woman?” but “Why are those images so prevalent in American popular culture that they, unsurprisingly, insinuated themselves in a show that doesn’t even address black women peripherally?” The weave meme has unfortunately caught fire in white America. They know what it is, they can even recognize it, they are morally outraged by its prices, and by golly, they are going to mention it every chance they get, even when it is not attached to an actual character. The condom-poking phenomenon, to me, falls into the delicious treasure chest of hood fairy-tales along with “welfare queens”, gang-banging, and the origins of rap music.

In episode 4, Hannah has just gotten a new job. She works with a sexually-harassing boss and two spicy staff members that seem to leisurely regard work. One of them appears to be Afro-Latina (perhaps Dominican or Puerto Rican) and, as we can only expect, is caricaturized and stereotypical from the start. She has an exaggerated accent, dramatic penciled-in eyebrows, tight clothes, and a neck/eye roll combination unparalleled on recent primetime TV.

Again, I asked myself the same questions from above. As you can tell, I am not surprised by the lack of well-constructed black and Latina characters. I actually think it is an honest representation of the stilted and one-dimensional schema that privilege builds towards people of color generally. “Girls” is true to life, because that is how so many interactions with women of color are perceived, analyzed, and then digested by white, middle-class women. As a black woman, I know these characters to often be misrepresented or too narrowly defined; but in a popular culture where there are less black people on primetime TV now than 20 years ago, what can we realistically expect?

“Girls” is one more reminder that media not birthed from a multi-cultural, colorful, inclusive perspective will never authentically reflect what we know to be true and what we hope will one day be celebrated.

In the meantime, we will be left with witty, yet unbalanced vantage points from majority privilege. I will still be watching Girls, but these things are always in my mind.

Will you be watching? How do you feel, am I making too much or too little of this? Read more about Lena Durham, Girls creator, writer, and co-star, confronting the topic (or lack thereof) of race in the show here.

Share your thoughts!

Love,

Brittany

A Day in the 'Burgh

The other day was a perfect example of why it feels bittersweet to be leaving Pittsburgh at summer's end. When people ask me "How's Pittsburgh?" I tell them that I've been pleasantly surprised. Inevitably eyebrows shoot up in disbelief and the curious pry further, "Really?" Then I launch into my speech about how Pittsburgh's post-industrial decline created a vacuum that served as a magnet for change agents. Usually whomever I'm talking to will search for hints of denial in my face and probably think, 'Poor girl, there must be something in the water..." While that is certainly true (chlorine from Marcellus Shale fracking), there is definitely something special about the 'Burgh. Let me tell you about my day, and maybe you'll understand.

First, some context: I've been working with former Echoing Green Fellow, Andrew Butcher, co-founder and CEO of GTECH Strategies, to develop GTECH's local support base. GTECH, which stands for Growth Through Energy & Community Health, is a thought and action leader in the region and nationally that works with communities to transform economic and environmental liabilities into assets. Their most well-known projects here are the fields of sunflowers planted on vacant lots, of which Pittsburgh has many. 

So the other day I had a meeting with a local venue to talk logistics for an upcoming GTECH event. The venue is the Waffle Shop in East Liberty (historic Brooklyn-esque neighborhood). The Waffle Shop originated as a CMU student art project with a community development twist. It's a cool diner space with weird late night operating hours and yummy waffles. The coolest part though, is that there is a talk-show stage open to the community, with film equipment used to stream the shows live online. In this way, the Waffle Shop serves as a collaborative "third space" for the community to perform and dialogue. We are very excited to be organizing a GTECH event, which will be a brunch panel discussion on Social Entrepreneurship, at such a fitting venue.

After my meeting at Waffle Shop, I couldn't resist going next door to Conflict Kitchen's take out window to grab an Iranian sandwich to go. Conflict Kitchen is a take out stall that only serves foods from places that are in conflict with the U.S. Right now they are offering  sandwiches from Iran, and in few months they will change the entire facade of their storefront window and their menu to reflect another country (North Korea, Afghanistan, Venezuela...you name it).

After savoring my sandwich through another meeting for a school project, I headed over to CMU's Project Olympus for an Idea Lab roundtable discussion on Social Entrepreneurship in the region and nationally. The Idea Lab is student social enterprise incubator led by and for grad students to develop early-stage ideas. Project Olympus is an incubator space and program for for-profit student enterprises that spin out of CMU, of which there are many. It was interesting to have such a rich array of organizations represented in the discussion - Idea Lab, Project Olympus, UPitt Law's Innovation Practice Institute, Scenable, and SponsorChange. We started by talking about Pittsburgh's potential as a hotbed of social innovation. Apparently at a CMU talk last year, Mayor Fetterman of Braddock, PA (itself, a very special place) said something in the spirit of, SW PA, and Pittsburgh in particular, has the potential to be the silicon valley of social entrepreneurship because the need is just so big. Agreed.

With projects like PopUp Pittsburgh, a constant stream of innovation challenges, and companies like Google setting up shop to scoop up nerdy talent, things are looking up for the 'burgh. There does seem to be a dearth of available funding in the area for social ventures. However, PA just recently joined the ranks of NYC, VT, CA and a few other states that allow for the creation of Benefit Corporations (B-Cors) with charters specifically stating that the purpose of the corporation is to not only bring value to shareholders but also to have a positive impact on people and planet. Annual audits will be conducted to ensure that this holds true.

So if you are planning a social venture to do with economic development, consider Pittsburgh as an ideal testing grounds with opportunities and incubators galore!

I will miss the economic development energy and buzz, the strip district, the underground foodie culture, and the techie-ness, if not the unpredictable weather and chlorine-rich water. Oh, Pittsburgh.

Why I need this...

I have so many ideas that I feel passionately about that I sometimes feel my head and heart are going to explode. I know you feel the same way. I've spoken to you, sometimes in long trains of emails or over coffee or for hours over the phone. I've seen you dance, heard you sing, watched with pride as you've stood up in front of people to pursue your dreams. I've visited your websites, helped to revise your works in progress, discussed the hopes, dreams, frustrations and challenges of your one or several jobs. I've been your collaborator, your classmate, adviser, mentee, co-conspirator, biggest fan, and friend. I know that you are also a dreamer and that you have invaluable insights, ideas and gifts to share. We just need a place for all of that sharing to happen.

I know we have Facebook, Twitter, and innumerable websites and blogs already, in addition to the basic email and those old things called telephones and letters, BUT that's how I communicate with you individually or in small groups already. And those communications are a mixed bag of various topics, not just about our roles and aspirations as social change agents. I need a DEDICATED SPACE. I need a way for you all to know and share with each other. I need a place where I can share my ideas and take risks knowing that I will receive honest and thoughtful feedback and support. Know what I mean?

Too often we wait till we've reached some unrealistic standard before feeling comfortable enough to make our voices heard and share an idea with folks beyond our personal network. As Alexa Clay & Jon Camfield write in their article, 'To Succeed, Women and Minorities Need to be Able to Fail,' women and minorities often feel pressure to be professional and 'perfect' and therefore miss out on the necessary steps of taking risks and bouncing back from failures to succeed in the long run. Alexa writes:

That night, we both confessed how our biggest obstacle to success was perfectionism: the need to wait for the perfect conditions or the perfect idea or venture before we shared it with people. In this way, we often failed to build communities of support. It was a conversation--a moment--that has since allowed me to share early and often. I learned that in sharing and being open about where you are headed, you actually increase the odds of getting there by enrolling the support of others. In this way, embracing uncertainty and problem solving around uncertainty with others from the beginning rather than waiting until you’ve ruled it out is a necessary component of risk-taking.

I think this is doubly true for black women. Of course we have a growing number of amazing role models, but where are the works in progress? Where is the lab setting where we can just be ourselves, experiment and share without the pressure of having to seem polished and on top of everything? I for one would love such a forum.