Jul 15

Jul 15 We're Mad Now: Why Social Media Activism Matters

I was standing at the bathroom sink with my Lysol spray bottle in my hand when I first found out about the Zimmerman verdict. If I’d been cleaning instead of procrastinating on my Twitter timeline, I might have delayed the sick, sinking feeling I experienced when I learned that Zimmerman was found not guilty on all charges. I might have delayed the way my hands shook as I read the tweets of outrage and disbelief. I might have delayed the chill that overtook my body as I saw Zimmerman smile when his attorneys congratulated him. But even if I’d stayed in the bathroom and scrubbed my sink until my hands turned raw, there was no way I could have avoided the news – George Zimmerman, the man who killed a young black kid, not much older than my little brother, was walking free. My heart bled (and still does) for the family of Trayvon Martin.

My immediate reaction was to call my mother, and she listened very quietly as I ranted and raved. Then I took to Twitter to rant and rave some more. I could barely contain my hurt and my anger, and the sympathetic tweets of my counterparts, white, black and otherwise were like fuel to a fire that burned in the pit of my soul. Another black life, gone down the drain, and not a soul was going to suffer for it. How could we not be mad? How could we not be hurt?

Jul 9

Jul 9 Serenity Now! Choosing Peace in the Midst of Chaos

SweetTee

Yesterday, I woke up and I tweeted this: " Don't ALLOW today to be a bad day. Choose peace. Choose happiness." Of course, as is always the case when I decide to tackle some means of self-improvement, the universe decided my resolve needed to be tested. So, while I got off to a great start, dancing in my kitchen as I scrambled my eggs and glorying in the sunny afternoon on my way out the door, my day started to take an unpleasant turn. The Caribbean restaurant near my house where I intended to get lunch was closed. So was the Chinese take out place. The bus was late, as per usual, and I was a few minutes late to work. I kept reminding myself of my tweet, repeating in my head, "choose peace, choose happiness" like a mantra.

I managed to approach my eight hour shift with a positive attitude, despite my earlier rough patch. But as I worked and chatted with my co-workers , something unpleasant was happening outside my office window. The sky was taking on a nasty dark hue and the trees outside the window were swaying wildly in the high breeze. And then, the sky opened up. At worst, I figured, the rain would make it hard for me to get home from work. That, I soon discovered, was the least of my worries.

Jun 28

Jun 28 It's Not For Them: Why Your White Friend Shouldn't be Saying Nigga

SweetTee

Hashtag Black

I honestly expected the most ignorant thing to come out of Instagram’s new video feature to be twerk videos and 15 second sex tapes. Silly me. I give this generation too much credit. Yesterday, as I was scrolling down my timeline, I came across a video captioned, “Give em permission to use nigga” with a screen shot of a white dude. Oh? Again, because I like to hope for the best, I clicked on the video with my fingers crossed that I wouldn’t hear this white guy casually drop the “n-word” for the amusement of his black friends. I’m such a silly optimist. Of course the white dude said nigga, and of course his black friend laughed uproariously. I sat there trying to figure out why the hell it was so amusing. I’m still at a loss. What I’m not confused about, are my feelings toward the word: I don’t like it.