Roots

Chris Rock's documentary "Good Hair" opens in theaters in major markets on Friday, Oct. 9th and nationwide on Oct. 23rd. The film explores black folks preoccupation with "good hair" or straight hair and the billion dollar black hair care industry which is primarily controlled by whites and Asians.

Seeing Rock on Oprah and other media outlets, made me laugh and shake my head at the same time. It also reminded me of an essay entitled "Roots" that I wrote almost exactly eight years ago for a creative writing class. The essay explores my own journey with the question of "good hair."

October 4, 2001

I am addicted to perm. That is permanent relaxer, the chemical mixture Black women have been using for years to make our naturally curly hair super straight. I can’t tell you exactly when I had my first hit. It was some time before puberty, around the age of eight or nine. It was some time when my mother got tired of wrestling with me and hearing my moans and groans as she tried to straighten my hair with the hot comb on the kitchen stove.

This whole pressing process usually took place on a Saturday. I remember the freedom of a Saturday afternoon in the basement pretending to be a “Soul Train” dancer, whipping around my luxurious locks, a mane of un-straightened hair. And then it was time for the comb. My unruly super-Afro would be tamed into silky shiny strands of ponytails. The shampoo part was fun for the most part, although bending your head over the sink could get a little uncomfortable after a while. But it was the smell of the burning hair and grease, the pressing part that was always a pain. More than once my ear felt the wrath of my wiggling and was seared by the hot comb.

Finally, my mother tired of the struggle and she turned to the perm. What else was a mother to do? Your hair can’t be nappy. Everyone else’s hair is straight. Straight is pretty. Nappy is bad.

So my first trip was made into the dark, dank basement where a bright beauty shop awaited behind a door. It was Annie and Mariah’s shop. They were members of my father’s Baptist church. One time, when my mother had to leave town suddenly to attend to her ailing father, Mariah came to my house to do my hair for school. My father had made a feeble attempt, but had plaited my hair like he probably used to braid the mule’s tail when he was growing up on the farm in the South. I took one look at my hair in the mirror and started to cry. I couldn’t go to school like that. The kids would call me Kizzy, Kunta Kinte’s daughter, with all those little braids sticking out of my head like Medusa, or maybe I would be christened Buckwheat for the rest of my life. Mariah came to the rescue and did my hair in a presentable style of barrettes and ponytails.

At eight or nine, it was time to leave the press and curl behind and go to the next level, the perm. The white cream was applied to the roots of my hair and when the process was over my hair was silky smooth and straight. I still had to endure the curling process, but my hair would be straight, at least for six weeks when the “touch-up” was required. At times, if you had scratched your head before the “touch-up,” your scalp would burn as if it were on fire and you would be almost running to the shampoo bowl to rinse the perm out. But such was the sacrifice for straight hair.

This addiction to straight hair has other inconveniences. Swimming is a hassle. If you don’t wash the chlorine our right away, your hair will break out. And who wants to go through all the hassle of shampooing, blow drying and curling your hair? The first agenda when you enter a new city is to find a good Black hairdresser, which is sometimes easier said than done. It’s not easy finding a person who knows what to do with Black hair in England or Spain.

At times I have considered opting for a more natural style. I love Lauryn Hill’s locks and Venus and Serena’s braids. Then the fear of change comes. I would have to start from scratch to grow locks. How would I look with an almost bald head? What would I do while it is growing out? Is my head shaped funny? How will I look? How will people react? Will I have the styling versatility that my “unnatural” hair provides?

Then there are the questions that go beyond the physical. Am I trying to live up to some European standard of beauty? Can you be an enlightened Black woman and down for the cause without dreadlocks or an Afro? Isn’t my blackness contained in more than just the way I wear my hair? In New York City last summer I saw sisters with straight hair, nappy hair, bald heads, dreadlocks and braids. They were all beautiful and their styles were as beautiful and varied as their skin tones.

When I add up the costs of this addiction, it really makes me want to cut my hair off and declare myself perm free. It costs almost $40 to visit the hair dresser every two weeks and almost $60 for a touch up. My mother’s oldest sister recently gave up the perm and cut her hair in a flattering, short Afro. Everyone was surprised. I think to myself if she can do it in her 60s, surely I can do it in my 30s. But as my hair starts to revert around the edges and the comb becomes harder to pull through, the perm calls. I give in to the familiar and call for an appointment for a touch up. “Maybe next time,” I think to myself.

My daughter is five. I tried to press her hair once a few years ago. My mother gave me the hot comb as if to say, “It’s time.” I took a tiny strand in the front of her soft, fluffy brown hair and applied the comb. The smell of burnt hair wafted in the air. The comb was too hot. I put the comb in the drawer and have never used it again. My daughter wears her hair with braids and beads, barrettes and ponytails. It is not super straight, but has a slight natural curly wave. Someday I may succumb to the comb and press her hair so that she can wear cute little Shirley Temple curls or maybe I will blow dry it. But I will know in a few days or weeks it will return to its natural state and I will not be responsible for giving her an addiction to perm.

She is free to be natural and the choice will be hers one day if she chooses to chemically alter her hair. I’ll let her know she’s beautiful no matter how she chooses to wear her hair and that her beauty does not come from the mane on her head, but from her heart.

A School That Works

The conversation usually goes the same way. Whenever I’m with a group of parents the question comes up. It may take different forms but it deals with the same dilemma.

“Where’s your daughter going to high school?” they ask me. Or my question to them may be, “How is the high school?” if I know they have children attending a local high school.

Now the question even encompasses junior high school and even fourth grade as anxious parents ponder what school their child will attend and the school’s scores on national tests. The angst arises from the fear that many parents in my community have of what lies beyond the safety and success of our local elementary school to the horror stories that we have heard about the junior high and high schools in our south suburban school system.

You hear the stories about children being hijacked for their homework. Parents who have children who have graduated or who still attend the local high schools roll their eyes toward the heavens when you ask them about the high schools. Some assure you that this one is better than that one or if your child is in the gifted program, they will do just fine. If they’re an athlete they might have some insulation from the less than desirable elements. Others tell tales of children beating on desk and rapping while the teacher stands powerless before them. You hear about the parade of principals who have gone through the schools, low test scores, lack of discipline and even guns brought to school.

Some pay for private schools. This is an option that is less than desirable when I look at my property tax bill. Then there are other considerations. I suspect some of the parents who have decided to send their child to the nearby Catholic high school have made that decision as a way to get away from the black and brown children who have taken over the public schools rather than just seeking a better education. Will my brown babies really receive a good education in such an environment? We hear the horror stories of young black men who have been harassed and mistreated at the private school. Will my children as my husband says be “culturally” safe?

Our dilemma is not as severe as others. At least we can contemplate sending our child to a private school. And even with its shortcomings, our south suburban system's problems pale in comparison to the plethora of problems in many school districts, especially in urban communities, across this country where schools have failed and many just don’t work.

Given the dilemma, we contemplate driving our children to the West Side of Chicago to a school that works.

On the West Side of Chicago, Providence-St. Mel has been educating children for years and doing an incredible job. All of their graduates, 100 percent, go to college, many to top-tier colleges. St. Mel does this, not in the suburbs, but in the heart of the city. In a place where folks said green grass wouldn’t grow, St. Mel sits on a lush green lawn and raises black and brown children to reach academic heights.

Providence-St. Mel is my husband’s alma mater and it is a school that I would love for my own children to attend.

Here is an article that my husband John wrote about St. Mel and its impact that appears in the September 4, 2009 issue of the Chicago Sun-Times: Here by God's Grace and St. Mel's

A feature-length documentary titled “The Providence Effect” about the wonderful work done at St. Mel will be released in September in theaters across the country. To see a trailer of the movie, click here: The Providence Effect. A listing of theaters where the movie will be shown is also listed. On Sept. 25, it will open at the theater in Country Club Hills for my south suburban readers. It will also play in theaters in New York City, New Jersey, Los Angeles and Washington D.C.

Why Does Jesus Ask Obvious Questions?

Why does Jesus ask obvious questions?

He asks a blind man, “What do you want me to do for you?” (Mark 10:51) Duh. Isn’t it obvious Jesus? I want to see.

He asks a man who has been paralyzed for 38 years, “Do you want to get well?”( John 5: 6) Who wouldn’t want to get well? Of course, Jesus. I want to walk.

At times it seems like Jesus ask not only obvious but downright ridiculous questions.

“How many loaves do you have,” he asked his disciples when faced with thousands of hungry people. (Matthew 15:34) What difference does it make Jesus how many loaves we have? Even a year’s worth of wages wouldn’t be enough to feed all these folks. Or he asks Mary and Martha, “Where have you laid him?” (John 11: 34) What difference does it make Jesus? He stinks by now. Lazarus has been dead for days. You’re too late. If you had been here he wouldn’t have died. But it’s too late now Jesus.

Maybe Jesus asks what seems like obvious or ridiculous questions for the same reason we ask our children questions. Sometimes I will ask my children something that I already know the answer.

“Did you clean your room?”

“What happened in school today?”

“What do you want?”

“What did you say?”

I want to see if they are going to tell the truth. Are they going to be honest? Are they trying to fool me and themselves? I might ask them a question already knowing what they need but I want to see where their head is at and what’s on their mind. Do they really know what they want and what it might entail or the responsibility that goes along with it? Why do they want it?

We ask our children obvious questions because we want them to recognize who they are talking to. We are their parents. We love them. We want what’s best for them. Most times they have come to us because they believe we have the power to grant or deny their request.

Unlike us as human parents, Jesus has the power to not only grant our requests but to do exceedingly and abundantly above what we can ask or even think. Before he left this earth, Jesus declared, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me.” (Matthew 28: 18) He already knows what we need, but are we going to be honest and come clean about where we’re really at in our situation. And if he says he has something else for us or tells us to wait, are we willing to accept his authority? We want blessings but are we willing to accept the responsibility. We want the promise but are we willing to go through the process.

Jesus has the ability to make something out of nothing. He can supply our needs according to his riches in glory. He can bring life to dead situations in our lives. But he wants us to recognize who he is. He is God. He has the power. He just asks another question, “Do you believe?”

What About the Homeless?

“…I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.” Matthew 25:40

Recently I was walking in downtown Chicago. There’s nothing better than downtown Chicago on a summer’s evening. Beautiful flowers grace the median of Michigan Avenue. The sounds of a violin or the rapid beat of boys beating drums pierce the air. Most pedestrians stroll, enjoying the beauty of the last breath of summer.

But in the midst of the beauty of downtown Chicago, there is also the ugly reality of the homeless--men and women who carry their life’s possessions on their back. I don’t get to the city regularly so I forget how many homeless people spend their day begging along Michigan Avenue. Is it my imagination or are there more of them than there used to be? They come up and ask for money. I don’t want to reach in my purse to hunt for a few dollars in the middle of the street. Apologetically, I say sorry—feeling sad that I couldn’t help in some small way. Sometimes I try not to see them or make eye contact hoping that I won’t be faced with saying no. I resolve in my mind to remember to carry a few dollars in my pocket next time so that I’ll have something readily available or tell myself that I will make a donation to the Salvation Army or another charity that helps the homeless.

We should all be concerned about those who are less fortunate. But unfortunately, many people who are blessed see those who are less fortunate as a nuisance who put themselves in that situation. I was surprised when my 13-year-old daughter said her friend commented that she would not help the homeless.

“Homeless man shouldn’t have gotten himself into that position,” her friend said.

And this is from a 13-year-old girl. But unfortunately children get those attitudes from adults. Instead of feeling compassion or a sense of “There but for the grace of God go I” too many of us have a condescending attitude. In spite of the bad choices people may make and the unfortunate circumstances that those decisions may place them, God calls us to help those in need. You might be living in a house in the suburbs today, but as the recent economic crisis has shown, many of us are just one paycheck, layoff or medical crisis away from being homeless. When we help the least of these it’s as if we are doing it for God.

My husband, John, a professor of journalism at Roosevelt University in downtown Chicago, had one of his journalism classes explore homelessness in Chicago during the spring of 2009. The multimedia project included photographs, videos, podcasts, articles and essays. The work that they produced is displayed at the web site, When the City Turns Cold.

John also wrote an essay about the homeless and his class project which appeared in the Chicago Tribune on July 12, 2009. Click here to read the article Now, I See, which also appeared on the web site Op Ed News.

Candy Straws

“But as it is written, Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love him.” 1 Corinthians 2:9

My seven-year-old son loves candy.

If I would let him, he would watch television and eat candy all day. His favorite candy is candy straws. His eyes light up with excitement and his tongue even hangs out in anticipation when I buy him candy straws. He’ll even do a little dance in the aisle of Walgreens when I’m buying him candy straws.

Sometimes I will buy him candy without him knowing. I store it on a high shelf in the kitchen above his reach and eyesight. He doesn’t know that it’s up there because he’s not tall enough to see it. He has not grown enough to see the good thing that is in store for him.

I usually don’t give him the whole package all at once. It’s too much sugar at once for his little system to handle. I also want to teach him not to eat it all at once, but how to save some for later. I want to reward him for being an obedient child and following my word. It is a pleasure to reward a good child. But sometimes I buy it just because he’s mine.

When he doesn’t know that I’ve already bought candy, sometimes at the store he will ask if he can have some candy and I say I already have some for you at home. You will get it in time. That answer at times brings whining or complaining. Sometimes that attitude of ingratitude makes his wait even longer. I may wait to give it to him, but it is his candy. I bought it just for him.

God has prepared some things for us. We’re just not tall enough to see it yet. We have not matured enough to see or handle the blessing. Maybe we’re walking in disobedience or in a spirit of complaining like the children of Israel who delayed their promise by 40 years by their disobedience and complaining attitude.

God wants to give it to us. It’s his gift just for us. If we as human parents know how to give our children good gifts how much more so does our Heavenly Father? One of his greatest gifts for those who love him is his love. He gives us the gift of his presence in our lives and the promise that that He will never leave us or forsake us. Even when we don’t feel like He is there or we don’t see his hand in our lives, He is still there.

Let’s grow up in Him and continue to wait upon the Lord. He will give us what we need and even the desires of our heart at the right time or we will grow up enough in our faith that we will be able to see it with our spiritual eyes. Or maybe, like my son, we will come to know that even if we can’t see it, it doesn’t mean it’s not there.

Special Series: Babbie Mason - Part 3

Here’s the final segment of my interview with gospel recording artist Babbie Mason. Picking up where we left off on finding her place in the body of Christ that is neither black nor white, but embraces all of God’s children as one.

To enjoy more of Babbie’s music and find out more about her ministry, please go to her web site, www.babbie.com.

Special Series: Babbie Mason - Part 2

Here's part two of my interview with gospel music artist Babbie Mason. We pick up where we left off with Babbie talking about how the Lord led her from the brink of becoming a Marine to ministering the gospel of Jesus Christ to the world in song.

Liberty

“Stand fast therefore in the liberty wherewith Christ hath made us free, and be not entangled again with the yoke of bondage.”
Galatians 5:2

Today across the United States of America, we celebrate freedom. We call ourselves the “Land of Liberty” because of the principles of freedom that our country was founded upon. The Bill of Rights in our constitution enumerates some of those freedoms. Freedom of religion, speech, the press, petition and assembly are a few of the rights that we have guaranteed as citizens of this great country.

Liberty is defined as freedom from control, interference, obligation or restriction. The founding fathers wanted freedom from the control of Great Britain. This freedom was so important to the founding fathers that they were willing to fight for it. In 1775, Patrick Henry famously said, “Give me liberty or give me death.”

I celebrate the freedoms that we have as citizens of the United States. I celebrate that fact that we are not perfect but that we are striving to form a more perfect union. I celebrate the fact that African Americans have gone from being recognized in our constitution as only a fraction of a person to an African-American man becoming the president of this country.

The freedoms that we enjoy in the United States are wonderful and our liberty makes us a beacon to millions who have come to our shores seeking opportunity and freedom from tyranny and poverty.

But the most important liberty that we can ever experience is the liberty of the saving grace of Jesus Christ.

Freedom isn’t free. Thousands have shed their blood to ensure our freedoms in this country. Christ shed his blood to ensure our freedom for eternity.

Jesus read from the prophet Isaiah about his purpose. “The Spirit of the Lord GOD is upon me; because the LORD hath anointed me to preach good tidings unto the meek; he hath sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to them that are bound…” Isaiah 61:1

Jesus has set us free and gives his followers the power to proclaim that liberty to others and open up the prisons of those who are in bondage to sin and the pain of the past.

We have been freed from sin because of the sacrifice that Jesus made on the cross. We are no longer under sin’s control, interference, obligation or restriction. When we accept what Jesus has done in setting us free, we are free from the consequences of sin. We are saved. We are free from the power of sin. God has sent the Holy Spirit to lead us and guide us into all righteousness and pricks our heart to repentance when we do sin. We do not have to be entangled again in bondage. One day we will be free from the presence of sin.

When we do not have liberty in Christ, we are already dead. We are dead in our sins and trespasses as the scriptures say. But Jesus has come to give us life and that more abundantly. Now that’s something to celebrate.

Special Series: Babbie Mason - Part 1

Gospel singer, songwriter and award-winning recording artist Babbie Mason has carried the Good News across the globe, spreading the message of hope and love through Jesus Christ. With a God-given gift of a silky voice and the lyrical talents to capture the soul, she has created for more than three decades an unmistakable sound-- a music that continues to lead hundreds of thousands, if not millions to a place of worship.

She penned the award-winning classic, “All Arise”, one of the most recorded songs in Christian music and noted recording artists such as Cece Winans, Larnelle Harris, Helen Baylor and the Brooklyn Tabernacle Choir have recorded her compositions.

Earlier this year, I sat down with Babbie Mason to talk about her faith, her walk, her journey and her music. To hear the first segment of my interview with Babbie Mason, just press play above.

To learn more about Babbie Mason, visit her web site at www.babbie.com.