Not Fragile
Tell me what you thought, scrolling down. I’d like to know, what came to your mind just now–I want to know if what you thought about now was the same or any different from what you would have thought two weeks ago, or three months ago, or when the image was created: February 11, 2005.
What I thought when I saw the first image was not what I would have thought two maybe three weeks ago. About three weeks ago I may have thought about something sexual, something provocative–I’d make a bad joke about it, perhaps. Today, when I saw it the first emotion was anger, and then I checked the date of submission and it was alot like applying a tourniquet to what felt like a rehashed wound.
After the incident that has been discussed ad nauseum across the Internet involving Robyn Rihanna Fenty and her beau, Chris Brown–I don’t really see certain images the same anymore.
But, To get to the meat of the matter, what I want to share with YOU is a few videos I saw while babysitting and absently watching the only channel I ever watch during the out season of So You Think You Can Dance: MTV Hits Playlist. It’s easy to ignore, it’s background sound and it’s music–I can’t explain why I like this channel and I won’t even bother to try.
The first video I saw was done for: She Loves Everybody by Chester French. I don’t think I can express just how much I’ve always liked this song, so I’m thrilled that I saw the video. What struck me most about the video was well…the content. The song is about a girl–who loves everybody, clearly–and in the video, she’s apparently beating up everybody too. Literally. There is blood and bruises and black eyes and you see each punch she swings connecting with the victim. In summary, she’s beating the hell out of them. I smiled at this. Why? Because, if the roles in the video were to be switched, what you would have is a band of girls being beaten to a pulp by a man–who loves everybody, I’m sure. What would then transpire is a controversy over the content of a video that–as the critics would probably say–”depicts and glorifies the act of violence against women and portrays domestic abuse and blahdidah…”
I also smiled because it reminded me of something I had noticed eons before, that I will now try to bring to your attention: ever noticed how Lily Allen can trash her ex boyfriends apartment and arrange to have him beat up in her music video because it makes her Smile? Or, perhaps, you’ve noticed what wrath can do to a man’s red pick up Before He Cheats courtesy of Carrie Underwood. If all of that eludes you, then maybe Jazmin Sullivan busting the windows of her man’s car, Shakira’s Don’t Bother and Kelly Clarkson’s Since U Been Gone might ring a bell.
Notice a trend? Well, you should. Women have portrayed violence and abuse towards men [or more popularly their property] in popular culture and I’m not too certain it has bothered anyone or ruffled any feathers. Simply because the woman is sad–he cheated, she found stranger’s panties and the other girl defies gravity and is so much better than her–so she’s allowed to exact revenge, which in turn makes her smile, and does not afford him the privilege to ever see her cry. Now…should this be acceptable? Of course, these actions in real life, I hope, would bring about severe repercussions on the angry woman, but you don’t see any of these women being carted away at the end of the video by men in suits wielding batons, do you?
We live in a wolrd of double standards and beleive it or not it negatively affects all of us–male and female. Hurt feelings do not give pass to abuse or violence; If you are assaulted you report it, unless of course you are in a position where your life is in imminent danger and you need to defend yourself.
These things go for both male and female. There is not partiality about, there shouldn’t be. But facts are easy to ignore when we’re all bombarded daily by images that are contrary to truth or good practice.
I must go on to say that I didn’t take the images in The Harvard Duo’s video literally. I’ve done enough literature to know that what they are depicting isn’t necessarily a red flag bearing: DOMESTIC ABUSE. But perhaps–judging by the lyrics of the song–the video is putting a spin on the message: “love concurs all.” The leading lady, as the lyrics suggests is promiscuous: she loves everybody, not just him. Still he can’t manage to get over her–he loves her. And of course it causes him pain and much anguish to be in that situation–as are all the other men, like him–but because he just loves her wonderful loving so, he grits his bloody teeth and manages a smile right through to the end–black eye, migraine and all.
Clever. Our boys DA and Max did meet at Harvard [yea, the University] after all.
The next video I like not for the artist, or for the deep underlying metaphorical allusions…or even for the singers talent–I missed it too, completely. But the killer imagery and awesome clothes and shoes are what makes me like Katy Perry’s Thinking of You video so much. Listening to the song on the radio usually leaves me grimacing, but seeing the video makes it that much easier to digest. The story line is lovely and pretty simple to follow; The video actually makes sense. The video looks something like my fantasy/ dream photo-shoot set would look like. And Katy looks darling too–even though I’m not quite partial towards her.
I liked the video so much, I’ll even treat you to some stills [remember to look for the shoes!]:
Third video is brought to you by The Queen of England. No, not really. It’s: The Fear by Lily Allen and I’m not completely sure why I like it apart from the fact that her face is gorgeous in the video, and I can’t quite decide if i like her dress or not, though it looks quite whimsy on her, which is why I probably think I like it. The other things is: I like the song, or rather the lyrics of the song. They are–coming from Lily–brutally honest, as her music has always been. She writes her own lyrics, and it’s evident. I admire that. The video is no stroke of genius and it’s not particularly the heights of entertainment–but her face, her dress and her lyrics were enough for me to feature it.
Last is the video for Dreamworld by Robin Thicke. I must admit that I have never heard Robin Thicke’s voice sound so…soulful–his voice always reminded me a bit of Justin Timberlake’s and that didn’t exactly bode well for me. So, although I had the wherewithal to stomach his songs I wasn’t a huge fan. But I like this song–I like his voice in it, and also the lyrics. The lyrics are simple but also quite meaningful; the lines that caught my attention were:
I would tell Van Gogh that he was loved, there’s no need to cry
I would say Marvin Gay your father didn’t want you to die (dream)
There would be no black and white, the world just treat my wife right
We could go down to Mississippi and no one would look at us trice,
That’s my dreamworld,
that’s my dreamworld, it’s more than a dream
That’s my dreamworld, that’s my dreamworld, and I wanna live in my dream
That’s the end! I’d love to know:
- What you think about the Chester French Video, what meaning do you think it has behind it?
- What do you think of the other artistes? Their songs? The videos? Love them? Hate them?
- What are your opinions on the “Girls like to be hit” photo up top, and are you tired of hearing about the Rihanna/ Chris Brown saga? [As much as I love RiRi, I sort of wish it would all go away...]
- Anything else! Let me know!
I’ll be Back
=]
Thirteen Things, Half and Half
5.5
Things I like
1. India»My best friend who turned 19 on the 1st of March or the 29th of February–she’s not sure. We went out for dinner broke as ever [don't fret, we paid in cash not kind], but the kindest must amiable waiter in the universe gave us a free slice of cheesecake [pictured above] with a candy striped candle in it when he spotted us trying to put our own candle into a small container of ketchup. A word to the wise: ketchup is not thick enough to hold anything in it standing.
2. Boys» sort of how they sometimes manage to make you feel better about the world.
3. Very old Music that reminds me of my childhood, by artistes like: Michael Bolton, Rod Stewart and Tina Turner.
4. Literary Tattoos» like this one, this one, this one..and warning, explicit content when you click this one.
5. Small World»I unintentionally met someone through the internet that has been in my classes for two semesters now. I’ve sit next to her in classes and never had a conversation with her, ever. Why? Because I’m socially inept. She has a blog called Be Not Afraid and that is how I “met” her. Have a look.
5.5 Pictures of people smoking» I’m not a smoker, but it is clear why so many people are. Cigarettes are promoted in the media, especially in fashion advertising, as being sexy or some higher equivalent. And I admit I like seeing cigarettes in photography; I am not promoting smoking. But I do like this photo and also this one and this one a whole lot.
5.5
Things I don’t like
1. Very old music that reminds me of my pre-teen-hood, by artistes like: Justin Timberlake.
2. Boys» sort of how they most times manage to make you feel really bad about the world.
3. Stereotypes» I don’t think there is anyone in this universe that is more pigeon holed than myself. Once you act a certain way, people put you in a category, and once you are placed in that category by people that think they know you but don’t, that is who you become–whether you like it or not. It’s irritating.
We Hate Labels by Deisel89 on Deviantart
[Picture above by my friend Danielle(center) of herself and my friend Jordan(the boy) and their friend Dom.]
4. Disingenuousness.
5. Exploitation of the Slumdog Millionaire kids» Rubina Qureshi and Azharuddin Ismail. It’s quite disheartening. Read the story here on Betty Confidential.
5.5 Being Socially Inept.
Bonus 2
Bow by Slawekmyskow
Coolest tattoo ever!
“Awkward moments define me. I’d sleep all day if I could. I lack the capability to keep my mouth shut. Yeah, everyone has bad days, but I seem to have more than my fair share. If you don’t like me, don’t act like you do. I swear, it offends me less. I’ve made mistakes and I’ve let people take advantage of me and I’ve accepted way less than I deserve. But, I’ve learned from my bad choices and even though there are some things I can never get back, and people who will never be sorry, I’ll know better next time and I won’t settle for anything less than I deserve.”
true words via: outlaws
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I’ll be back.
To Pick A Bone
by Eric Lafforgue
While in the shower: that is when my mind is clearest.
I’m often incensed that I can’t have a pen and paper in the the shower with me, because as soon as I step out of the misty, vapourised air, most of what had flowed in swirled out just as quickly.
Today however, I didn’t let it slip and slide so easily. I kept the thought in my head and as soon as I stepped of the bathroom and dressed, I went to my father to pick a bone.
I said to him: “Daddy, I’d like to pick a bone with you.” Not very enthusiastically, he straightened, and focused his attention on me; I asked him a simple but not so straight forward question. A heavy question, but an altogether easy one.
“Are you proud to be black?”
I knew what his answer would be: “Of Course!”
I could only see faint expression outlined by the familiar lines of his face, barely illuminated in the dark by the faint flickering glow of the television screen. I knew that would be his answer and I was satisfied. I moved on to ask: “why?” he was proud to be black–I told him to exclude anything having to do with Black History as we know it. I asked him not to tell me that he was proud to be black because of Sirs King, Garvey or Mandela. I asked him to exclude all that, because to me those are achievements of black people in the face of adversity and oppression. I wanted to know what culturally or otherwise he was proud of. What nuance or way of life we as a black people have; the actions embedded in us and our sense of custom made him proud, is what I wanted to know.
Borana Woman by Eric Lafforgue
He gave me a brilliant answer, a simply one. “I’m proud to be black–not because of any achievements, or because of anyone else–but because it is who I am. This is how I was born, and I am proud to be me.”
I couldn’t have been more satisfied, really. I paused, I didn’t say anything more, but I didn’t move to get up either.
“Bone done pick?” He prodded in easy broken English, and I smiled. I told him what had made me ask him that question in the first place.
I told him about how sad I felt, having just finished reading A Man of the People by the renowned Chinua Achebe and reflecting on all the other depictions of Africa and African-ness I had seen thus far–in my 19 years of life. I thought about it like this: if an Irish person is living in America, and they are going through a rough time, and their life is not the best in America and they really don’t like it there–they can always look back to their Irish culture with fondness–they can always afford to delineate themselves from their American-ness if they’d like, because there is something better or more pleasing that they can associate with. They know that their people are the founders of the river dance. They know that the leprechaun is theirs, and green is apparently really a huge deal. The Chinese, Indians, Italians–they all have the same privileges whenever they find themselves outside of their homeland. No matter how far back the connection is–not matter what generation they are.
I thought it must be nice to take yourself out of your adopted context, and go back to your origins–a different reality altogether, but still your source of being. Your heritage.
With Africa, and being from African decent, I don’t feel that type f privilege. I find, a lot of the time blacks try to cling to what they are mixed with, because that is the culture that has more than just remnants–if even that much–to cling to.
When I try to find something that I can hold on to, as a piece of Africa–it’s not pure. We were all sort of influenced by the West and colonised at the same time–whether we were taken out of or left in Africa. We were all spoiled at just about the same time. I don’t know where I was taken from–after all Africa is a Continent, and a vast one at that. There are hundreds of languages spoken, scores of religions, perhaps thousands of tribes–I have not the slightest clue what my real last name is.
It’s a bit disconcerting when an Irish [I really do love the Irish, clearly] can trace the meaning of their last name to the Gaelic root, figure out their family colours and coat of arms, know the stories their four time great grandmother use to tell their two times great grandmother. The can plan a trip back home, to that precise plot of green where the old family cottage use to be…and I’m sure you get exactly what I’m driving at–but I can’t.
Girls from my High School in Jamaica
It bears such a token of sadness but I am not without a resolve. If there is anything I am, it is Jamaican, and if there is anything Jamaica has, it is culture. If ever I want to remove myself from any context whatsoever, Jamaica is my fondness and Jamaica is my home. Jamaica is where my cultural history started–at least as far as my knowledge can take me. If I need something larger than that–I am West Indian, and that holds more weight than anyone could ever dream of. I do not throw away my African-ness, it is impossible to do so–but for the time being, I am just unsure of how to identify with it beyond the colour of my skin.
I am not sure if anyone else has felt the same, or similar–but I would love to hear your story if you have. And if not: your take on what I’ve said.
Take care lovely people,
=]
I’ll be back.
