The quality of Wo(Men)

There’s a scene in Mad Men where Roger dresses up in blackface. I’m not capitalizing the “b” because I don’t want to give it any dignity. It takes place in, I think Season 3, and can be viewed here.

http://www.uproxx.com

Mad Men, and other period shows, continue to receive blowback on their lack of diversity. Their responses are much like Matt Weiner’s when he said, “Honestly, this is always considered controversial when I say it, but black [sic] people still do not have representation on Madison Ave,” via The Frisky via Charlie Rose.

That’s true. Black folks are indeed underrepresented in many fields.

He goes on to say, “If I was telling a story of the black experience, it would be very different. But I’m very proud of the fact I’m not doing this guilty thing.” Great, I’m glad you’re not tokenizing Black Americans. That’s not my issue. My issue is why are telling the story of those men and women?

Let me explain. Producers and whoever else is in charge of making things in this world, continue to tell the stories of White America. When Black America’s story is told it’s usually told in juxtaposition to White America, and rarely in isolation. Matt Weiner also refers to a telling point in the show,”I don’t think people understand what that impact is, to have a world leader, an international figure who is an African-American who is telling the truth and poetic — Don hears the speech, “I Have A Dream,” and he turns off the radio. It’s just a news event. They don’t even know.”

You’re right. Don Draper is a guy who ignored Martin Luther King Jr.  Why is he the protagonist? He’s terrible.

Why is Roger Sterling a main character? He’s also terrible. Forgotten are the others in history. Overshadowed by the Martin Luther King Jr’s., Malcolm X’s, Harriet Tubman’s, Sojourner Truth’s, the “A students”. The smaller and yet equally beautiful characters in history are written over or written out. What about the kids who scored an 890 on the SATs graduated middle of their classes, and only skipped school sometimes? The focus is consistently placed on the Apex of society, or the gutter. Rarely the middle.

I want to see the stories of the ordinary folks because even in their supposed mediocrity their stories are beautiful and worthy. I’d like for the producers and, whoever else is in charge of making things in this world, to break away from the mold and reveal the quality of human being that more closely relates to the majority of America. That more closely relates to, well… me.

I don’t think that Matt Weiner was, as Jessica from the Frisky states “making excuses for his alleged downplaying and/or erasure of pivotal moments in the black [sic] experience during the 1960s.” I just think he’s focusing on the wrong quality of human being.

TG4Gifs (Thank God for Gifs)

I just learned how to upload gifs!!!! Yeah buddy!  As a result, I will share my favorite Liz Lemon gifs from Buzzfeed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

little Black boy

This following video upset me. All I could do was write.  Below is what I wrote

little Black boy

Baby boy.  My son, my brother, my family.

I’m sorry that you have become this sausage case version of yourself.

Full of scraps society can’t digest and so they fed them to you.

My son.

My child.

The one whom I have avoided birthing because of the plague we would both become.

I, an unwed mother and leech on this system…

System.

The one that does not work and continues to try.

The cogs and wheels churning, burning for the young she’s, he’s, ze’s, and hirs who cannot hear the slow ticking of brokenness.

The problematic sound warning you that it will fall.  That it will break. That it can’t take the weight while we wait for our current state to change.

To shift.

To give us this gift, of utopia.

And so it bleeds.

The blood of little Black boys and little Black girls while everyone else watches.

Scarred at the sight and yet drinking the juice from this machine — embracing the system while you my little Black boy become a parasite.

Containing no knowledge of your own just sucking that which keeps you alive.

You consume.

No one taught you the beauty of your contributions because they are afraid of your voice.

Your words. Your perspective. So unique and important.

If you were permitted the chance to speak, your tongue would lash mountains and command them to your feet.

Your knees would kneel to pick them back up again.

Your soul. Oooh, your soul would envelope our toxicity and make us whole as we cleanse ourselves in your forgiveness.

We have done you wrong my little Black boy, but thank you for trying to make right while feeling and being so wronged.

IKEA Redesigned

I’ve had a strange day so please forgive my negativity if it bites through.  I’m posting about something I did that made me proud.  I need to find something I did right today.

Soooo, tables….

About a year ago I purchased this table from IKEA:

I purchased it with the intent to paint it.  That was a year ago.  On Sunday I found myself waiting for a bus across the street from a paint supply store.  The bus was running late so I decided to do a little shopping.  I left with three colors, a few paint brushes, sandpaper, primer, and no clue what I was going to do.  I think I envisioned an all green table. I wanted something to “pop.”  I have this habit of buying red things. It’s my favorite color and I gravitate toward it.  This time, I wanted to do something out of the ordinary.

I sanded, primed, and painted the table. I ended up with this:

It felt like I was living in a kindergarten classroom. So then I did this:

It made me think of mint chocolate chip ice cream — which isn’t good for my waist line– so I did this:

It wasn’t finished, but I began to like it a bit more. Here are a few pictures of the final product:

Some of the pictures are blurry because they’re from my cell phone.  I’m thinking about painting the bottom rack/grate thing orange.  I’m not sure yet though.  If anyone has any suggestions I’m totally open to them.  I’m not an artist so I don’t know how to do the complimentary color thing.