I’m no Sister Souljah
A couple weeks ago I was given two compliments that warmed my heart and troubled my soul at the same time.
A friend asked me to comment on what it’s like to live in Arizona under 287(g) and SB1070. I shared our experience in “Ground Zero” and he replied that I was a real American Superhero.
Later that evening, I was chatting with another friend, mentioned how tired I was of summer, which of course prompted the suggestion that I move. Quoting Dexter from the Ruckus Society, I responded,
I’m living in ground zero for racism in America. Too much to be done here.
And among several lovely things that were said, was the comment,
When Sister Souljah grows up, she wants to be like you
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This couldn’t be further from the truth, and not just because I had to Wiki her. Both these comments came from friends who each experience discrimination on ltwo different levels that I will never personally experience, so their positive feedback, particularly conaidering the relative oxymoron of “white allyship”, meant the world to me. But I’m no hero, and I’m certainly no Sistah Souljah. I’m just trying to be in right relationships with my black, brown, gold and rainbow brothers and sisters. While it’s always admiraable to do the right thing, and even more so in the face of resistance or even just against popular opinion, my witness is no great personal sacrifice, carries no inherent risk. Read more…




So at bedtime I chatted with the girls about their days, and asked about the Obama speech. Afterwards, I asked my son about it, and before he really got started, I got what I decided was a flash of inspired brilliance and grabbed my crackberry and recorded our conversation. I wish I’d done that with the girls… sometimes with Tyler, you ask a question and when he’s finally done talking, it’s been an hour and you’re asking yourself…


chatter