Archives from 2003

This waning year tasted like a medley of good fortune, hard work and opportunity wrapped in a floured tortilla shell of confusion, tragedy and war. I've never felt more adult than in 2003. I learn

I wish Joe could see me now. Whenever I brimmed over, he spoke my aspirations back to me without diminishing my excitement. Joe made it OK to be a black alien. That's because he was one. To be you

"White perceptions of Negroes, and the historical inculcation of these perceptions in the minds of Negroes themselves, are at the root of our present troubles." -- Black Rage by Grier and Cobbs Le

When Marvin Lewis first came to town, pro-Bengal bobble heads slathered on him responsibilities that had nothing to do with U-turning a losing football team. According to them, Lewis' blackness cam

People act like racial profiling doesn't exist. Do the math. They act like cops -- bad cops -- don't detain drivers based first on race and then, while they're at it, rifle through the car for anyth

It's in your hands. The paper's first issue of its 10th volume is mellow momentum. CityBeat is at an impasse with itself. It's a beautiful curse to be simultaneously this young and this old in thi

Welcoming another's baby makes grieving a dead infant unbearable. There goes Kennedy Anne Wilson. Here comes Francine Anne Blase. Three days after Kennedy, my niece, died at home from complications

First, I thought it would be dope to only have a cell phone. No land line, just a cellie. Much as I tire of talking on the phone, I took the cellular appendage not as a status symbol or a look-at-m

Deadlines ticked closer, looming with loser status. Responsible parties called the party line wriggling loose from respective responsibilities. One person wanted me to know he's not racist and tha

The thought of 60 white people carrying guns was enough to keep my black ass out of Northside last Sunday (see

Society rarely consults youth culture except to blame them. I linked with ArtWorks a few years back to shadow poet and actor Saul Williams when he came here to lead ArtWorks' apprentices in worksho

Last week's What's the Matter with Self? exploded with fed-up rage and fear over the proliferation of white T-shirted black drug dealers. Black folks are mad over nigga shit. The pull of middle-cl

White T-shirted niggas look like pigeons. They flock and clock on corners and in doorways shittin' death onto white and black likewise niggas. Then these peddlers swagger past one another, Biggie-s

Before we revile or revere the Rev. Damon Lynch III, we must first reconcile his proximity to the Rev. Martin Luther King's stature, social consciousness and innuendo. Lynch is one of 26 city coun

I have pretty eyes. When I was a girl, my eyelashes were so thick they curled back on themselves. They ringed my eyes like sideways wreaths. I was about in the fifth grade the first time I ever di

People want me to hate Peter Bronson. "How do you sit beside him every week on that show?" they ask of our oppositional banter on Hot Seat, Channel 9's Sunday morning roundtable. You're probably ho

It's Bugs Bunny's 65th anniversary. I wanted to write solely about Liberia, our lyin'-ass president and why he don't particularly give a fuck about a country of dusty-ass Africans 'cause can't no p

The lure of anonymous pussy trumps mortgages, diapers, family vacations, carpools and all those other trappings of domestic bliss. While work-a-day men bet the farm on pussy, athletes and entertai

I knew I was a nerd when my brothers ridiculed the way I talked. Just like fellow female black nerd Dani McClain (see The Other 'N' Word ), I got clowned for "talking white." In case you've taken

The poetics of Ursula Rucker's ruckus

Tags: Music Feature