Of Pan-Africanism and captivating Sociology professors...

Pan-Africanism; noun the concept of a political alliance among African nations; also, advocacy of such a union. Seeks elimination of colonialism and white supremacy from the continent.

I can't remember the last time I opened a book that wasn't related to school, but this Spring Break I'm doing some recreational reading.
Courtesy of Dr. Wiggan ;-) I'm reading "How Europe Underdeveloped Africa" by Walter Rodney. He lent me the book after a riveting conversation we had on colonialism/developing economies/Montego Bay...
I've always felt that the British screwed us over when they gave us our independence; leaving a power vacuum and zero infrastructure. But I didn't realize the impact that European imperialism had on Africa and the Caribbean until I got done with the first chapter of this book!
Ever wonder what it would be like if Africans ran the world?

- Also started Carloine Elkins' British gulag...at the very least the Brits owe us a formal apology...can you believe they don't acknowledge what happened to the Mau Mau under their watch?!!!

Sir-Mix-A-Lot Said It Best...

Apparently most women who are single, are also Black. I find this fact utterly confusing. Not simply because some of the sexiest, most compassionate women I've met in my 20 years, have been Black. Of course, this opinion is hugely biased, but even still, I don't understand why so many of us are unattached. One theory I've considered is that we're being left behind in the interracial dating craze sweeping the globe.
Today, Black men are the Birkin bags of dating. "You absolutely have to have one". White, Asian and Hispanic women everywhere are scrambling for a chance to hook up with them, and in the process the number of Black men we have to choose from is dwindling.
Granted, we could date outside our race too...start seeing Latinos and White guys...but for a Black woman that is easier said than done.
One reason is that no man knows how to love a Black woman better than a Black man. Their appreciation for us runs deeper than Bill Gates' pockets. White men are overwhelmed by our considerable thuthas and bee-stung lips. Rarely do we come close to their Barbie doll paradigms of beauty. But we can always count on Black men to relish every inch of our coke bottle anatomies! So much so, that we'd rather be single and loved than attached and undervalued. ;-)

Happiness

I wonder...why is it that the people who have the least, materially-speaking, seem the happiest? Yet people who have been blessed with more money than you can shake a stick at, are never truly satisfied.
Brad and Jen are over. All sorts of theories and explanations for their split have been shoved dowm my throat by the media: Angelina Jolie sliced Jennifer; Brad is a closet homosexual; Jennifer saw Troy and decided she couldn't be married to a man who looks better than her in a skirt...
While these might be valid explanations, I think the truth is simpler. Money cannot buy happiness.
I volunteered at a homeless shelter last night (and before you go commending my selflessness, let me clarify that it was an academic requirement, so I cannot take credit for sacrificing my Sunday to the homeless). One gentleman made a statement that struck a chord with me. He said that being homeless had taught him to let go of his pride, and allowed him to put all his faith in God. As a result, he was more content than he had been when he had a roof over his head.
From A-list celebrities to destitute drunks, all of us are in search of happiness. And I think we'll find it sooner when we realize that true happiness does not come with a dollar price tag attached.

Tuesday morning blues?

I don't consider Sundays part of my weekend, in which case a new week has begun for me. As I try to shift gears fom 'relax mode' to 'work mode', I can't help but wonder what life would be like without Mondays. If we had a 3 day weekend instead of one that lasted 2 days. Human nature is such that we're never satisfied, so more likely than not, we wouldn't be any more ready for the week when it rolled around. Still, I think there would be fewer grouchy, sleepy, hung-over people than there are now. And altogether the world would be a happier place.

So good it hurts...

I have a vague recollection of getting my ears pierced; the large gun moving toward my tiny earlobe, the acrid smell of methylated spiirit...that memory is stored in the deep recesses of my mind along with other equally painful experiences.
So it puzzles me that one would take a needle to places that should never have sharp objects near them. A friend of mine has 10 piercings, and only 2 of them are on his face. You do the math.
Brunch this afternoon was an impassioned discussion over pain and pleasure and how fine the line betwen the two is. Pehaps the strongest argument came from someone who cited the flourishing S&M industry as an example of how blurred the line has become. People will spend their hard-earned money getting whipped, smacked and spanked by a woman in tight leather and stilettos. All in an effort to find the exciting balance between pleasure and pain...

The agony of getting my ears pierced tells me their search might be in vain...but what do I know.