I do feel like I'm fuckin' up somehow by not being with a Black man. Like I'm letting our people down. Letting our fuckin ancestors down. But I like him so much. Damn.
Dear Monet,
Whassup girl? I just got your letter today! I knew you'd be running things at N.Y.U. in no time! Honestly, ain't it better than Spence? I told you college was going to be the shit!!
I'm having an okay time, I guess. I live in a 2 room triple with these two white girls in a freshman dorm. Ain't another sister to be FOUND in the whole damn dorm. Well, actually, there IS one, but she's too busy passing. I wouldn't have even known she was Black if homegirl hadn't come over to me one day and said "You know, I'm half Black." Like that meant that she and I were supposed to bond on the "Black tip" or something because of that? I was like, Peace that out, you non affirmative heifer! And the fact that she would say that she's "half" anyway just means that she doesn't even know.... And I wasn't about to say "Well, there is no such thing as being half-Black, dearie. If you're not all white, you're the thing that's keeping you from being it..." I wasn't even gonna' go there! Can you believe the shit that goes on here?
My roommates are typical white girls. You know what I mean? Good, 'nuff said.
I like my classes alright. They're pretty tough, but nothing like Mrs. Scott's class last year. I still can't believe we survived that shit. We are just the women.
I have this one class where I have to go to Holyoke to teach a class of High School students once a week. There's only one other person who goes at the time that I do- this big, beef eatin', football playin' dude named Chris. Bust how money is just JOCKING!! And I'm like "No Chris, I'm not going to help you live out some chocolate covered fantasy that you've probably had since puberty!" He asked me out to dinner last week. I dissed, of course, but who knows? Maybe when I get sick of dining hall food I'll take him up on his offer! You know what they say- when in Rome, do as the Romans (and this place sure as HELL ain't KENYA!!). Ha! HA!
Well, I gotta' jet. MO work, MO work, MO work. You know what's up. Drop me a line if you can... oh, and give phat shout outs to all my peeps. Aiight? Cool.
Peace,
Ky
P.S. I miss First Congregational, girl. There's an A.M.E. Zion in town, but it's mad dry! But I guess I'll have to go there. I almost wish I went to school in NY like you!
Mo,
Hey girl, I just finished your letter. Yo', I was just kidding about that white guy shit. You KNOW I ain't one for swinging in the jungle, okay? I ain't do the shit all through High School, I might as well not start here! Actually, I try to stay away from all of them in general. You know, they in my classes and shit, but we're still not really cool. The white kids pretty much hang out with other white kids and, hell, you know Niggas. That's the way it goes.
It's cool though 'cuz the Black folk up here roll mad deep. We like a family and shit. Like the Black Waltons and shit! Like last night I was just kickin' it with my boys. We played Streetfighter 2 for 4 hours straight, from the time we left dinner until, like, 11pm. Then we ordered pizza and subs and watched Bruce Lee movies until 4am! I was mad tired this morning, but it was so much fun.
The niggas up here are real cool, you know? It ain't even about boy/girl shit, you know? It's more like we all just vibe and shit. Only problem with that is ain't nobody here to BE boy/girl with! I mean, I'ma be honest, I haven't gotten paid since I left New York! It's been over a month! I'm hurtin' and shit, YOU KNOW? I was mad confused at first, 'cuz Niggas up in these parts don't sweat nobody. For a minute I thought maybe it was just that I wasn't the shit...but luckily I found a mirror that indicated otherwise!! HA!
The only guy here even worth kickin' it to, at least by New York standards, is my ILS professor, Mr. Bobson. Girl, he is SOOOOO fine!! He's kind of light skinned (and you KNOW he must be something, cuz I usually like my chocolate brown brothers better!), about 6'3", has a Caesar. He's mad slim, but he looks like he's kind of diesel. And even though he's a professor, he dresses like a regular guy. All his gear is Girbhaud and Tommy Hilfigger. And he has kicks to match EVERYTHING he owns! I swear, he must have 30 pair!
But girl, he is so smart! And sexy! My ILS is called Oppression and Depression. It is so deep. And he just works it in class! He is just the MAC!! You have to come visit and just see him.
Anyway, let me stop drooling so I can write! Oh, did I tell you that I found a church?!? A REAL one, girl! It's over in Springfield and it takes mad long to get there, but it's worth it to go. I've been going for about 2 weeks now, with some of the other church-going Black folk. It really reminds me of our church. The Reverend gives the phat sermons! And the choir is just kickin'! I joined it , even though I'm not the best singer (no matter what your momma says!). We have practice today, but I'll go once I finish this letter. Word.
YO, I can't take living with these white girls. They, like, listen to Peter Gabriel and shit, and then get MAD when I play Tribe or Chanté Moore. I don't even play them that loud. I swear, the bitches are crazy. But I just don't talk to them. I usually just jet up out of here and chill at my friends' cribs. They're not even worth my time.
Oh! And I almost forgot the deepest part! One of them brought a GUY to our room. To SPEND the NIGHT! And told ME to break OUT! Of MY ROOM!! She's all huggy kissy with this dude when they come in the room, right? And I'm sitting at my computer doing a paper (It was a Thursday night. Why you would want to go out on a school night is really beyond me. And the school even sponsors the party! This place is DEEP, I told you, girl...) and staying out the biz. You know, all accommodating- like and shit. So they sit down on our futon and start going at it a little bit. THEN they get up and go into our bedroom! We have all the desks in one room and all the beds in another, so I'm thinking that she's gonna let him do his little thing and then tell him to break out, right? Wrong.
So I'm damn near done with my paper and what happens? The bitch starts MOANING. No, not even moaning. More like whimpering. You know, like a dog? But you know me, Miss Hospitality (don't even bring up the Rakim incident, that was me acting out of character, okay??!?), I just turned up my Poetic Justice CD (hated the movie, love the soundtrack! Did you get it yet?) and kept writing.
So I finish writing and get ready to go to bed. Then it hits me that Old Boy is still up in there! So I knock on the door.
Knock. Knock.
No answer.
Knock. Knock.
Still no answer. And I'm gettin' pissed, right?
KNOCKKNOCKKNOCKKNOCK!
"Uh, yeah, who is it?"
"Ky."
So she comes to the door and stands there squinting at me.
"Uh, yeah, what's up?" What's up? WHAT'S UP?
"I'm ready to go to bed, that's what's up."
"Uh... here?"
"Uh, YEAH, in MY bed in MY room!"
"Listen Ky, I know that this is going to sound harsh, but do you think you could sleep somewhere else tonight? I mean, I don't want to kick him out..."
"So you're forced to kick ME out? Of my own ROOM?"
"Ky," she whispered, like it was all deep and shit, "It's my room too."
And you wanna know what the funny thing is? I left. I went to my friend LeShawn's room and went to sleep on his couch. Miss Fuckin' Hospitality, I am. I just wanted to share that little skit witcha.
YO! I can't believe that shit you wrote me about Jameer. All I can say is "WORD?" I can't believe you hit that shit! I've been trying to get with him since back in the day!! But you go girl! I can't believe you got him to go DOWNTOWN!! Just work it girl, just own it!
Well, I have to go DRIVE to Springfield for choir practice now. LOVING YOU!
Peace,
Ky
Yo NEGRESS,
S'up? I needed to talk to somebody close to me. YO, I just kicked one of my roommates out the room. The chick comes talkin' 'bout how the whole dorm is going to have a keg in a half hour in this other girl Molly's room. Then, says she, we're going mud sliding down Memorial Hill. She looks at me conspiratorially and says "Technically, we're not supposed to do it, but the R.C.'s have been stealing trays for weeks! Paul told us to wear old clothes, because we are going to get sooo dirty!" I tells her no, y'all are going to get dirty, my Black ass is staying here!!
So homegirl gets all in a huff, saying that I never come to dorm meetings and I never get involved. So I ask her, why would I? She tells me some bullshit about this being my home and me being a part of a community. I told her that MY home is in West Harlem, U.S.A. and my community is there too. So then she tells me that EVERYBODY is going. "Is it mandatory?" I ask her. "Well, no, but you pretty much have to go..."
"Are you trying to tell me that I HAVE to go?!"
"Well Paul said that even if you don't want to slide, you have to at least come upstairs and socialize in Molly's room. "So I told her that all I had to do was stay Black and die. It may be part of her grand scheme, but mud sliding will not be an integral part of my college experience! I'm SAYING?!?!
So she says "You have such a bad attitude! I don't understand why you have to always-"
I says "Always?! No, no. If you are going to make sweeping generalizations about me, then you can sweep your fat ass right up on outta here."
"What?" She just looked at me.
So I said it. "I think you really need to break out. Just go, slide in the damn mud, go..."
"Wait. Are you throwing me OUT?" She asked indignantly. The same girl that threw me out of my room AT NIGHT so she could fuck some man!
"Hmmmm... yeah. YEAH, that's what I'm doing. It's my room too. Get out." I know I shouldn't have said that, but I was so mad...
I mean really though! Do they think that I'm one of them? What sense of community am I supposed to feel? Damn! Just because we're getting similar educations doesn't mean we're 2 fuckin' peas in a pod! You KNOW?
These people just don't understand that my life is COMPLETELY separate from theirs! Because I want it to be! They don't seem to understand that all I want from this place is the education. They don't understand that I don't want to be like them. I don't even like them!!
I ended up going to church (I was cursing Old Girl out on the drive over, mind you) to see what the young women's group is like. See, I met this guy Devon, he goes to UMASS, and he told me I should try to join either the young adult group or the young women's group. So, since I was basically alone in the dorm (And the bitch was wrong. Everybody did NOT go mud- sliding! Lying cow...) I decided to go to the women's group. Everybody was SO nice! They're all around our age. A few are in college, but most work in Springfield or Holyoke. There's about twelve of us. It was mad cool. We sat around in the atrium, eating popcorn and drinking Diet Pepsi and just PARLAYING. We had the big deep discussion about men in the area (or lack thereof), racism, sexism, job discrimination, etc. Some of them have fallen upon some tough times. But I think they enjoyed the discussion too. I know I did. It was so interesting, I might join the young adult group too!
What do you think I should do about my roommate? Write and let me know.
Peace,
Ky
P.S. On the not-so-deep tip, I just got Christopher Williams' new CD. GO get it. The shit is butter!!
Hey girl (awww girl!),
Thanks for your letter. I did apologize for throwing old girl out. I told her all that shit you said about trying harder to understand each other. All that sharing is caring shit. But we still ain't cool. We'll see how THAT goes...
Yo, I nearly broke this girl off in my Oppression and Depression class. She just doesn't have a clue. Check homegirl out (and, I swear, this shit is like verbatim):
"Well, I just don't understand why Blacks are so self destructive."
"Well, what do you want us to be," I says, "Happily disenfranchised?" The whole class looked at her.
"Well, uhm no, but I just don't understand why Blacks don't do anything to change their situation and, on top of that, seem to perpetuate their situation." The whole class looked at me.
"When your situation is governed by a white power structure it's damn near impossible to do something that that structure is not LETTING you do. And our white society SHO AS HELL is not giving the Black man the tools he would need to uplift himself." A few people nodded and a couple of hands shot up as they all turned back to her.
"Like, okay, what 'tools' do you need, other than a positive attitude?" (She tossed her hair here for emphasis.) A bunch of people sort of winced, like they knew she had left herself open. A lot more hands, but Prof. Bobson sort of shook his head no. He wanted me to school them, girl. They all turned to me.
"Gee, I don't know...capital resources, PROPER education, political power, control of economic, educational, and political affairs in our own neighborhoods..."
"And THAT would get drug dealers off the streets?! Uh, come ON!" The hand raisers re- raised their hands.
"Maybe not tomorrow, but give us those things and twenty years, our modern day forty acres and a mule, if you will, and I guarantee that you'll see us as we've never been before..."
"Us? We? Why do you take this so PERSONALLY?"
"Because we're talking about Black people and I'm Black. No matter how broad or vague a statement you make, you're talking about me, my family, my friends, and I take that personally."
"Well it might do you some good to distance yourself from your topic. I mean-"
Girl, I was ready to BUST that ass!! Old girl was going to tell ME about MYSELF! Can you believe these people?
"Okay. Okay. We're off the topic. Stacey, did you have your hand up?" My professor, the fine one, had to break up the whole argument. So Old Girl says, all out of turn and shit, "Well I still don't understand."
"Of course you don't!" I replied, "You've lived a sheltered, white, suburban life, Laura, how do you expect to understand the plight of African-Americans?
"It's not THAT deep!" I couldn't believe she would even GO there!
"Don't say that, because YOU don't know, oKAY?"
Luckily, class was over. My professor wants to meet with me and talk about the whole thing. I was like HEY, it's a date! Ha! HA!!
That white dude Chris asked me out to dinner again. But I'm going to be mad busy with work this week anyway. I have a paper due for Oppression and Depression and I want to really drop some science on these mothafuckas.
Okay, I know I'ma come off as being MAD corny, but I was sitting outside of the Octagon, the fly Black-people-building that's up on this hill, after I finished working yesterday. It was nice and semi warm, and the sun was setting over these mountains we have up here... and you know what I decided? I really kinda like the sunset here in the country. It makes me feel like I'm on an airplane- sort of full of air and hope. Like everything could change if I let it. Like I could even fall in love and be happy and everything.
Speakin' of love, Yo', what's the 411 on you and that dude from this summer? He had it going on! Or are you going to get serious with that Jameel hooka? And how are your other 2 classes going? You never talk about those 2... I HOPE you're having a GOOD TIME!! I love you!!!
Luv, peace & hair grease... Ky
Hey Sweetie!
Don't kill me- I went out with that white guy. BIG mistake. Huge. Major.
I don't know why I even said yes! I guess I was curious (even though I know what that shit did to the cat!!)... or desperate. Anyway, so money steps to my door... mad corny; no flowers, nothing, and we go to this little Italian restaurant that's supposedly just the shit. It's dumb expensive. But I really don't understand why! I mean, it was aiight, but it wasn't allllll that, you know? The only thing I like about the place was that they had a Black pianist. He had the phat jazz repertoire! I was like you GO, boy!
So at first Chris started talkin' about rap. Now you know me- I like rap and shit, but I ain't a fuckin' aficionado or anything! So we talked about class. CLASS. At DINNER, girl.
"So what do you think of Holyoke, Ky?"
"Well, I really like the class I help in. The kids are so great. I feel like they look up to me."
"Hey, it'd be hard to find a better role model than you. You're smart, pretty, talented..." I was like, JOCK ME!
"How about you," I ask him, "What do you think of Holyoke?"
"I think it's really unfortunate that these children aren't getting a decent education."
"So what are we going to do about it?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, the situation is obviously not going to cure itself. What do you see our role as being in remedying the situation?"
"I don't think I have one."
"Why not?"
"Well, I hate to be a cynic, but I think we just have to face the fact that some things in life aren't fair. Holyoke is one of them."
"So you're saying that... wait, what ARE you saying?"
"Ky, I think it sucks for the Puerto Ricans, but it sucks for everybody at one point or...Look, I'll put it this way. I don't see myself, an admittedly privileged White guy, playing an instrumental role in social reform!"
"So why take the class, if you don't care?"
"I DO care, I just believe in distinguishing between scholarship and activism."
"So what DO you want to do with your life, Chris?"
"No, I can't tell you, you'll kill me!" He gives me this sheepish grin and says, "I want to be a partner in my Dad's firm. Sorry!"
I'm at DINNER with the oppressor, Monet. I dined with Mr. Charlie. Broke bread with The Man It was so ill. It just depressed me so much, because as a White guy who is a part of the real, traditional Old Boy network, he COULD do so much good in Holyoke! It put me in a Malcom (pre-pilgrimage) mood. And then he had the Nerve to try to kiss me goodnight! I told him straight up that he just didn't really have it like that.
You know what? I really don't understand how white people live. I mean, if I was white, I just wouldn't have fun. I mean, damn, they play in mud. And get drunk all the time! I mean, you know I can throw a couple of 40's down when I want to, but I don't do the shit every weekend!
All I can say is, "damn."
Loving you & Loving being Black,
Ky
P.S. I went to church and prayed for Chris to come to his senses. It's the first time I really prayed for a White person, even after all those years at Spence. I wish I could hate him like I do most of them. I wish he wasn't so cute (but you ain't hear that from me)! Maybe YOU should pray for ME, girl!!
Naynay,
You have to come see me. And you have to bring a nine. Because I am going to kill this roommate of mine!
It's the other one this time. Not the bitch I threw out, the other bitch. This girl asks ME if I've seen her laundry. Says she left it on the dryer the day of the mud sliding incident. I tell her no, I didn't see it. So she says, "But you were the only person here! Everyone else went mud- sliding! It couldn't have just disappeared..." I tell her that I wasn't even here, that I had gone to church.
"All I know", she says, "Is that I had a lot of nice stuff in there and now I don't have any of it."
"Wait, wait, wait, wait. Wait. Whoa. Are you calling me a THIEF?" I ask.
"Only if the shoe fits!" She says and walks away.
Why the hell would I want her corny, trying-to-be-Soul-Train-ho', size fourteen gear anyway? I'm so pissed at her!
My mom said, "Don't let these honkeys get to you," and I try not to let them. But I want to kill that girl!
Oh, I'm enclosing a copy of my paper for Oppression and Depression. It's not due for another 2 weeks, so try to read and correct it and send it back soon!
Peace,
Ky
P.S. You know you're welcome anytime! Why don't you come after Mid semester Break? Then I won't be bogged down with work. Cool.
Kyrie Washington October 10, 1993
Oppression and Depression Prof. Bobson
"Just as a tree without roots is dead, a people without a history or cultural roots also becomes a dead people." -Malcom X
Focusing on one of the peoples we have discussed thus far, write a concise, organized paper discussing the importance or irrelevance of viewing oppression and "ethnic depression" (as we defined the term in class on September 18, 1993) within a historical and/or cultural context. What is the role of history or culture in keeping the modern day oppressed and "ethnically depressed" alive, both literally and figuratively? Cite texts as necessary.
On Oppression: After our class discussion, I tried to figure out why some things are the way they are. I've been wrestling with these issues since High School. And I think the issues are winning.
Why, I wondered, are African-Americans so disempowered? It took me a while to realize and admit that African-Americans have no power because they are not granted it by the White power structure within and under which they function.
In Malcom X Speaks, I learned that there are four basic types of arenas of power in our society: cultural, political, educational, and economical. It is my opinion that African-Americans have been granted a bit of license with regards to only one of these arenas, which is the cultural one. This is, in fact, a gain, as African-American culture was previously slaughtered by White filmmakers, satirists, artists, academics, etc. Now, however, people like Spike Lee and Bill Cosby can widen the scope within which African-Americans are viewed. Yet African-Americans have yet to corner the market on controlling their economic, educational, and political destiny.
This is a difficult situation to alleviate, however, Brother Malcom states, as these three arenas are inextricably linked. In order to improve one's economic status, one needs education, as it opens the doors to higher paying jobs. Yet one cannot get a private school education if one does not already have money. If one goes to public school, one is at the mercy of an education that is controlled by a White political scope which is not partial to pouring funds into predominately African-American schools.
African-Americans often do not have the funding, nor the education to open businesses in their own neighborhoods. In a majority of African-American neighborhoods, businesses are owned by middle or far easterners and the property is owned either by the city or by White housing developers. We have no control over the political agendas placed upon our neighborhoods. We cannot tell the city, through our representative, if it is lower or middle income housing that is needed, because our representative does not represent us. This is primarily because of the manner in which district lines are drawn, so as to keep an all-African-American district from coming into being.
That's all I have so far. Whatcha think? I sound smart, don't I? Break it down for me girl.
Miss Thang,
Hey hon, hey hon. Go HEAD witcha self! THANK YOU FOR THE CARE PACKAGE! I was so surprised!! And when I saw the raspberry Blowpops it was OVER! Remember when we thought they gave you cancer?!? You can tell kids anything, man!
Thanks for your comments on my paper! It could have waited until after your midterms! I'm working on revising those things you were talking about. I'll definitely try to find some more sources! I'll try to use some of the books from class to support my argument, like you said. Did you really think it sounded like I was just complaining at the end? I guess I DID get off the topic... Good lookin out!
That Prince compilation is NO JOKE. That shit is BUTTER. AND a bag of chips!
Well, I guess I just have to tell you- remember Chris, the White guy? I messed around with him a little bit. Well, actually, more than a little bit... DON'T KILL ME!!
I mean, it seems like he's coming really correct now. We talk all the time and study together and dance at (White) parties together. And he has the most amazing green eyes! I mean, I know Jameer has green eyes, but those are Blackpeoplegreen, Chris' are Whitepeoplegreen. They are so intense! But back to the program. I digress.
So we're at Tap (it was the first Thursday that I went out all year, I swear) and I see him and we're kind of talking, dancing, whatever. To make a log story short, Tap ends and I'm about to leave, so he asks where I'm going. So I tell him that I'm going home. So he says, in his trying to be sexy voice, "Well, I am going back to my dorm and, uh, watch a little cable... can I INTEREST you in that?"
"Well, I don't know, " I say, "What's on cable tonight?"
His face fell like a souffle girl. And it hit me that he wanted to get a little play. And I'm a bit drunk, so...
"Well, let's go find out," I say.
So we went back to his room. He ain't hit it, but we came pretty close. It's weird, but for someone with such little lips, he was a really good kisser! And you weren't lying, girl, they ARE pink!! I almost started laughing when I saw it! But I had an okay time. No major fireworks, but I think he's really great. I want him to ask me out. My first White boyfriend... won't it be cute? I know you warned me, and I know you know better than I do, but I don't see it as being a big deal. I mean, I'm doing as the Romans! How terrible can that be? What do you think?
Oh, guess what? The Janitor had to fix the washing machine, so he had locked Tara(my roommate)'s laundry in his closet for the weekend because he had to move them but forgot to put them back. The only words the bitch says to me now are "Ohmygod, I'm so sorry!" I'm just like, "Yup, you are sorry. Sorry and trifling."
Church is taking up a lot of my time, but I still love it. I love the idea of having friends up here like I do in the young women's group. I mean, this place is not like home where you chill with your girls all the time. Speaking of girls, tell Reesha congratulations on her baby!
I have another paper due in 2 weeks. I'll send you what I did so far in my next letter. KAY?
Paz chica,
Ky McDonnell (Chris' last name! HA! HA!)
Monet,
I'm so confused. I don't know what I did wrong, but Chris doesn't even speak to me anymore. I saw him at dinner and he just walked right past me. THEN I saw him in the campus center and he walked right by me again. Then I saw him at TAP (okay, so I only went to see him. You have to understand how upset I've been!) and he's standing in front of me at the keg. So he fills his cup, hands the tap to me and walks away WITHOUT saying a WORD.
I feel so stupid! I feel so used. How am I going to go to Holyoke with him next week?! Monet, I don't understand. I feel like such a ho. Like that was all he wanted from me all along. I didn't even think that I was being slutty because I thought he liked me. But I guess I was. I am so embarrassed. And hurt. And confused. PLEASE write me or call me. I don't know what to do.
- Ky
Hey booboo,
Thank you for the call. It helped me a lot. I didn't go to Holyoke with him this week, but I'll go next week. Fuck it. You were right. I'm above that. I'm an African Queen, no, what'd you call me? A Nubian Princess, that's it. They can ALL kiss my Nubian ass!!
You know, in retrospect, High School really was the days. It wasn't Spence so much as it was New York! Remember those Jack and Jill parties?!? Man, I can't believe that it's all over. You're lucky. At least you're still in New York. At least you can still escape to Harlem where there are no white people!
I went to my Gramma's crib in Newton for the weekend. You remember when we went there, right? She and I watched sports (mostly football) all weekend. She's a trip, my Grandma. She always roots for the team with the most Black players, but she'll root for a team with a Black quarterback over a team with more Black players. And she'll root for a team with Black managers over everybody!
I was talking to her about that roommate shit and she had me rollin'. I tell her about the whole mess and she just turns to me and says "Aw baby, don't let them crackers get you down!" I was on the floor. I was just like "Word, Grandma?!?!" Hee! Hee!
She made neck bones in gravy for me, girl. I had neck bones and kale and candied yams, black eyed peas & rice, AND macaroni and cheese. We sat by the fireplace and just chilled. She did crossword puzzles, I read and worked on my next paper (enclosed). For breakfast we had grits and sausage. SHE EVEN BAKED BISCUITS, girl. She know me too well. She's the woman.
And I didn't think about Chris ALL weekend!!! One small step for Ky, one giant step for Black Womankind!!
My meeting with Prof.Bobson is on Monday. I'll wear something tight...
Tell me more about your photography club next time you write, okay?
Peace,
Ky
Kyrie Washington November 10, 1993
Oppression & Depression Prof. Bobson
What is logical to the oppressor isn't logical to the oppressed. And what is reason to the oppressor isn't reason to the oppressed. The black people in this country are beginning to realize that what sounds reasonable to those who exploit us doesn't sound reasonable to us. There just has to be a new system of reason and logic devised by us who are at the bottom, if we want some results in this struggle that is called "the Negro revolution."
-Malcom X
Malcom X, one of the most powerful and poignant voices of the 20th century, writes of the contradiction between the psyche of the oppressor and the oppressed. Cite an example of either conflict or accord between the psyches of the oppressors and the oppressed. How does this agreement or discord between the two groups affect the oppressed? What are the psychological implications of accord or discord, on both groups? Correlate your conclusions with life-specific, situational evidence.
The Oppression of being Brainwashed: One of the problems that African-Americans face is the lack of positive role models in the community. This is primarily because African-Americans are conditioned to see their own neighborhoods as ghettos. The mark of success becomes upward and outward mobility. One is seen to have "made it" if one lives in a predominately White neighborhood and placed one's children in a predominately White school. Of course, it makes sense to want to remove one's child from an environment of crime, poverty, and the like, but it has a terrible effect on both that ghetto and on the protected child. The brainwashing is part of what keeps us oppressed.
African-Americans need other African-Americans who have succeeded to stay in the ghettos, invest their money and time in these ghettos, create jobs, and be role models. If the only success a child left in the ghetto sees is that of drug dealers, gang leaders, and aspiring basketball players, he has no reason to put his trust in the American dream. He begins to believe that these are the only viable goals for him.
What is even worse is that the African-American child who has moved to the suburbs has lost or been deprived of a great part of his ethnic identity; that which comes from being surrounded by one's own. He has no link to his people and, therefore, no desire to help them, thus eliminating yet another resource that may have been tapped to "de-ghettify" the ghetto. His "peers" are predominately upper-middle or upper class Whites. It creates a situation much like that in The Jungle Book: a boy raised among lions will behave as a lion, think like a lion, and run to save a lion before he would even think to help his fellow man. Such is the plight of the African-American in Suburbia.
One of the major psychological reasons for this is the partial or even total abandonment of the "African World View", as Smitherman defined it, which included collectivism. It is reasonable to the oppressor that African-Americans forsake their culture for power and/or success. That is because materialism and forward movement is part of their "European World View", but is detrimental to the oppressed.
I still have more to write, but lemme know what you think of my little excerpt jammie here!
Yo,
Shit is really, really deep right now, Monet. I don't know what to do. You know how I had my meeting with Bobson. Well, I went in, right? And we were talking and shit, right? And then HE KISSED ME.
He was mad slick about it too. He had gotten up from his desk to look for some book that he told me would be helpful to me, then came up behind my chair and dropped it in my lap. So he bends down and tells me to turn to page so and so, and he's over my shoulder, but I can feel him looking down my shirt. So I turn my head a little bit. And he takes my jaw in his hand and turns my head the other way so he can kiss me.
Girl, we were all over his desk. I was in there for like 20 minutes until another student knocked on the door. I'm scared, Mo. I mean, he's fine and all, but he's a professor. I don't know what to do.
I'm seriously thinking about moving off campus next semester. I don't know what to do. I wish I was home, with you and my momma and Kevin. Did I tell you he got straight A's on his report card? Another genius in the family!
Mo, what do I do?
Please let me know.
Peace,
Ky
GIRL,
I was chillin with my friends from the young adult's group and that made me feel a lot better. I've been praying a lot. I haven't gone to Oppression and Depression all week. I mailed in my assignment. I ain't go to Holyoke either, cuz of Chris. I don't know what to do.
Don't get me wrong. Your letter was very supportive. It's good to know I got good peeps on my side like you. But I still just don't know what to do. I know you think I should report him, but I don't think I have it in me to do that. He's a Black man. I'm a Black woman. I've been trained all my life to uplift and support him in whatever he does. A quote comes to mind, I can't remember who it's by, "In a family no crimes are unforgivable." Don't you think it's selfish to tear down something I believe in, just because of my own fear of or discomfort with the situation? I don't KNOW...
I'm stuck. I don't want to tell on Bobson to another Professor, nor to the Black community. But I don't want to get involved with him. I just DON'T. I mean, I love his spirit, his passion, his ego, his beauty, but part of my admiration is the fact that I can't be included in his life. I mean, that's not what I really want. I want him to stay my idol, stay my mentor, even if he has proven that he's human. Why does it cause me so much pain to see weekness in our Black men? Don't you see? I WANT to have a crush on him, even after what happened. I WANT him to be a mini-god, a lesser one, that must be feared. And I guess I got my wish, cuz I sure am afraid of him now...
You know, sometimes up here I feel so empty that it scares me.
My roommates and I had a very deep talk. They feel that I'm excluding them from my life. I told them straight up that I am. So Dawn said, "If you hate White people so much then why are you here?" I explained to her that I don't hate White people, I just don't like them. There's a difference, isn't there? And I told her also that I'm here for the same reason she is- that the education is invaluable. But I was thinking- is it really worth it? Is it worth spending four years with people I don't like? I could be at Hampton right now having a grand old time. Suppose I die tomorrow? I'll die miserable. I just don't know.
I need to get out of here. I can't stand living with these white people everywhere, asking me about what I put in my hair, pretending to like me so they can get play from me, asking about whether or not I can suntan. I can't stand living in this ignorance. If this is supposed to be a gathering of the intellectual elite, why are so many of them so fucking stupid? I'm not an alien or a museum exhibit. I'm me. Ought to be 'nuff said, but here it's really not.
It's like they don't see me as the threatening Black man on the elevator or the dark street, so they feel that I shouldn't mind explaining my existence. Fuck that! Fuck you! Read a goddamn book. You know what I'm saying?
But why am I even sweating this? They're never going to understand me. You know that. I know that. Even Malcom knew that back in 1964. Damn.
When are you going home for Thanksgiving? I'm leaving next Monday. I hear Soul Kitchen moved back to Monday nights. You down? Ha! Need I even ask?
Peace,
Ky
Nasty Nay,
All I could think about on the busride back to school was how funny that shit was last night. Mike cracks me UP! He's mad cool. I think he's kind of cute too. Too bad he's up at Brown. Oh well!
It was so good to see everybody, but it was especially good to see you. I don't want to sound silly, but I'm glad that you're my best friend. And it was great to be with you. You look well. And I'm glad Old Boy is treating you well. I can't believe you got Jameer to come correct and be in a real relationship! I used to think he was so fly. See? THAT'S why I need to be in NY! Fly men! On the really REAL!
But it was so cool to be back in the Hood! I didn't realize how much I missed everybody until I saw them. I think I just missed being part of the majority. I felt like myself. Relaxed.
It felt kind of weird to chill on the Ave. though. I don't know, call me crazy, but sittin' on the stoop drinkin' a twenny five cent juice and talkin' 'bout all the trifling Niggas that we KNOW we done already got with ANYWAY (ie. Kaheem, Jamal, Ronell) ... it just seemed kind of dumb. I'ma sound like a nerd, but I was sitting there thinking, "I have a problem set I could be doing..."
But it was fun to go out with you. And to see my moms and pops, even if they was getting on my nerves a little. But it really was great to see you. And you look great. Don't worry 'bout that freshman 15 or whatever, 'cuz you know you fly. You were too fuckin' skinny to begin with. Bony assed mothafucka! I know, I know, look who's talking!
But I think you were right. About a lot of things. I mean, I think I can survive these last four weeks before break. I mean, you're right, four weeks will fly by. Right?
And I took your advice and went to the housing department. They put me on some list and told me that they would call if any singles opened up! YAY!
And I WILL go to my I.L.S. class. I WILL. I will. But I don't think I can do the complaint letter thang we talked about. It's going to be enough of a challenge to just go to class. Just being able to sit in the same room with him and not be scared will be empowering. I just hope I can do it. But, regardless, I WILL go to class, I WILL go to class...
I don't know how I feel about what you said about me. I've been thinking about it. Do you really think I've changed? I didn't think I had, but I guess I have. I mean, just by virtue of the fact that I'm in college and away from home... Well, as long as you don't think it's for the worse, I guess I'm okay!
Do me a favor- don't give Jason my number. I told him that he could get it from you, but I don't want him to have it. He's just not my type. So don't give it to him. Make some shit up, like you programmed it into your phone and you threw it away. Some shit. Just DON'T give it to him, PLEASE!
But if MIKE asks for it, on the other hand...
Peace,
Ky
Lady M.,
Guess what? I just got home. It's 3 am. On a Tuesday night, actually, Wednesday morning. I was out. With Chris. White Boy Chris. Confusion is my new middle name, girl. Kyrie Confusion Washington. K.C.W.
He called me last night at around midnight, right? And he said that he was sorry. At first I was still kinda salty, but he explained why he was acting the way he was. He said that he wasn't sure how he felt about me and that he needed that time to think. Oh, and he said that if he talked to me before he finished thinking, he was sure he would say something that would mess things up. So I tells him that not talking to me was probably the worst thing he could have done, because it hurt me to just be cut off like that.
So he asks me what I'm doing. I tell him studying. So he says "What if I came by your room and picked you up and we went for a drive and just talked?" And I'm still salty, but, in the big and grand of it, I'm thinking I could do worse than to chill with him, either platonically or not, for the next three weeks, then go home to real, Black men. And it sounds sort of romantic to go for a drive at 12:30 in the morning, and he sounds really sincere. So I say okay.
So about twenny minutes later, here's Old Boy at my door. With a rose and a thermos of coffee and half a dozen croissants. Even if they WERE all from the grocery store, it was sweet. So we go to his car (he got the PHAT jeep, yo'! A Cherokee Limited. Butter...) and drive around to someplace I've never been to before. It was real pretty though. So we sit in his car eating and talking and I'm thinking that, for a White dude, I really like him a lot. Which is kind of scary, at least to me.
And we're talking about his major (he's a sophomore, so he has to declare it by next semester), which is gonna' be Law, Jurisprudence, and Social Thought, and what he likes to do with his time (play lacrosse, and he D.J.'s a rap music show on the college radio station), and where he's from ( I think he said Gross Point, maybe, but I forgot what state he said it's in!) and stuff like that. He's really kind of cool.
Then we started talking about politics and shit. It was a lot of fun because he's liberal, but a more conservative liberal than me, so we could get heated in our discussion, but still relate. We were just vibing...
So, suddenly, the sun comes up. THE SUN, girl. We were up all night! So he drives me back to my dorm. And leans over to kiss me goodnoght. And I kissed him. Part of me was like, no, he just wants to play you, but he hadn't made a move all night, so I couldn't get myself to believe that that was all that he wanted. Mo, I like him. A lot.
And you know, I don't think it's illogical for me to feel this way. I mean, I've established bonds with the Black dudes up here, but they aren't sexual bonds (would that be bondage? Ha!), or romantic bonds. AndI don't want them to be. I love having boys to chill with, you know? I like not having to think about the fact that I'm a girl, not having to do my hair before I go over to their rooms. I like being one of the boys with them, and I know that if I messed with any of them it would ruin that. So I have to choose between having my cake and eating it. And I'd rather have it than eat it, I think.
So that leaves me in a sea of Whiteness. I'm not attracted to most White guys, but I do like Chris. Actually, I think he is quite fly. All these White girls sweat him MADLY. And I figure I'm in such an unrealistic setting as here, why not just go for it? Right?
Well, you can see that I'm still thinking about it. Advice? Comments? Recipes?
Your one and only,
Ky
P.S. Don't kill me, but I slept through Prof. Bobson's class, since I got in so late. But on Thursday, I'ma be in there like Vladimir in swimwear on a reindeer...last year. Hey! I'm a poet and I know it!!
Yo baby, yo baby, yo baby, YO!
I know I wrote you yesterday, but I have a couple of things I want you to think about in conjunction wit my last letter.
I went out with Chris again tonight. He invites me out with his room group and their girlfriends to go get ice cream. So I'm like whoa, whoa, whoa, WHOA. What's he thinking about our relationship right now, you know? But I say okay. And I went.
It was aiight. I mean, I had fun. Not real fun, but White fun. Mini fun. A funette, if you will... No, I mean, it was cool, and I REALLY like him, but it's just not the same as being on the Ave... But, in some ways, it's better. We had good conversations, but is that just because we're the "intellectual elite"? And I'm thinking that I have good conversations with my boys up here too. But it's just mad DIFFERENT. I don't know.
I DO know that Chris is cool. Mucho cool. He pays for everything, he opens doors... which I like, in spite of myself. Why am I so contradictory? I'm, like, an old fashioned liberal and a White-liking racist. I'm an oxymoron (or maybe just a moron?).
And I admit, I do like White people a l'il bit more because of him. Not much, mind you. But a little. He's more of an exception than the norm.
But so we went back to his room afterwards, just to TALK. Now you tell me how to read this, okay? Last time I was in his room, it was darker and I was drunk, so I ain't really look around. So I did. He got all these posters of Black women- Janet, Halle Berry, S.W.V., Flo Jo- and of rap groups up on his walls. And pictures of him wit girls. Black girls. And it kind of offended me, because I sorta started thinkin' about it. Too much. And I'm thinking, what if Black culture is some sort of sick hobby to him? What if he thinks of it the same way he thinks of Lacrosse? So I'm asking myself why he's interested in me. And, I hate to say it, but I not sure if he likes Ky, or Ky, the Black girl.
What do you think?
-Ky
P.S. He kissed me goodnight and THAT'S ALL! Okay?
P.P.S. We had our first choir performance. We sounded pretty okay. You should come to the next one...
Yo,
You need to pay me back for these stamps, yo'. Three days in a row! Damn!
I just needed to tell you what happened today when I went to Oppression and Depression. I went to class. I did it! The class was okay, and at the end he gave back papers (the one you last read). So I'm lookin' at my paper, tryin' to find my grade...and there is none. He wrote comments, but no grade. But on the last page it says "SEE ME". I'm thinkin' "Shit." So I go get lunch with my boys and get myself mentally psyched up to face him.
So I go to his office, right? And he's actin' like, like ain't nothin ever happen between us. So I sit down in a chair and he sits on his desk in front of me. And we start talking. My heart was beating so hard it hurt, girl.
So he tells me some shit about how he couldn't give me a grade because he felt that my paper had a few key problems. And, to be honest, I'm just not believing him. I'm thinkin' this is all a ploy to get
Oh, sorry. My roommate, Dawn, just walked in. She's so stupid. But so where was I? Okay, so I'm in his office, thinking that this talk is going to be bullshit.
But he wasn't kidding, yo! He told me that he feels that my perspective in my papers is very narrow and that becomes a bit devicive. So I'm like "Devicive? Whoa, whoa, WHOA. Explain what you mean by that."
So he tells me that he thinks it's "detrimental to my papers to treat the works of Malcom X as being objective rather than subjective."
"What do you mean?" I say.
He says, "In reading Malcom the way that you do, you end up reading race in a manner that seems...devicive. That is, your voice ends up assuming the racist tones that are present in Malcom's speeches and writings." And I'm getting vrazy attitude now.
"And?"
"And it takes away from your writing when what you are basing it on has it's own agenda and meaning... Let's see, often it sounds as though you are giving a speech yourself. Now this would be less of a problem if you adopted a less confrontational tone and used direct quotes."
I was sitting there just confused. Kyrie Confusion Washington. Actually, Kyrie Confusion-Shock Washington. Here's someone who be always talking about Malcom, quoting Malcom, even wrote a BOOK on the mothafucka, telling ME that I'M being DEVICIVE?!?
"But you use Malcom as an example all the time!" I say.
"Yes, yes I do. But the difference is our approach. Ky, dear, I fear that you don't differentiate between when Malcom is using racist assumptions and when he's not."
"When is he not?" Negative vibes was just flyin', girl.
"Well... when he returns from Mecca and departs from the Nation of Islam, he adopts a more multi cultural ideal, which is not...racist."
"So you're saying that if I agree with Malcom BEFORE he goes to Mecca-"
"It's not a matter of agreeing or disagreeing. It's a matter of analyzing." Grrrr...
"I did analyze! I did! And I decided that he was right! I mean, I'm not saying that Whites are blue eyed devils, but I really do believe that they play no role in the quote- unquote Negro revolution! I really do. So I've analyzed. What does that MEAN?"
"I'm not here to judge you, only to critique your paper. I just can't let you walk out of my classroom thinking that your views are going to bode well with most of the people you meet."
"Well," I say indignantly, "Luckily I don't really give a hoot about most of the people that I meet."
So he scoots to the end of his desk and takes my face in his hands. It was very fatherly and kind though, so don't get upset. And he lifts my head and looks into my eyes. And I'm so scared and nervous, but I want him to kiss me. Mo, I wanted him to kiss me so bad. And he says, "Oh, little militant one, what am I going to do with you?" And he leans over. And now my heart is throbbin' in my neck and shit. And I realize I'm not breathing, but I don't start. And I just sit gripping the arms of the chair as he comes closer and closer to me. And I close my eyes.
And he kisses my forehead. My forhead! I was worried for nothing. I thought we were going to end up all over his desk again, and all that happened was he kissed my forehead. But it scared me that I wanted him to do more, Mo. I don't know if I'm scared of him or of myself.
Why does he always confuse me?
the little militant one,
Ky
P.S. He gave me an A on the paper. He said that he just needed to talk to me before he did it, and he wasn't sure I'd come in if I wasn't forced to. I don't know what to make of the whole situation.
Sweetie,
You don't have to come up here and kick nobody's ass! I just got your letter and you're wrong. What happened between me and Prof. Bobson is not sexual harrassment. The first time I went to his office, I wanted to be there and I wanted to do everything that I did. He ain't force me into nothing. And this time, I really believe that he just wanted to see me to talk about my paper. It sho wasn't what you was saying about using his position of power to do whatever whatever. And besides, it was ONLY a kiss on the forehead. It's not that deep!
Anyway, I'm so jealous of you for getting tickets for that concert. Mary J., Jodeci, AND Christopher Williams?!? Yo, I may have to come home to accompany you to that shit! I mean, REALLY!
But so, I don't know what to do. I think you're wrong about Chris. I mean, I think he really cares for me. No, actually, I KNOW he does. He told me so a couple of days ago when this dude, Devon, from my church called me up and asked me out on a date. So I tells him I'll call him back and tell him if I can fit him in my schedule. So I mention it to Chris to see if it would be okay with him. And he gets all pissed and tells me that he kind of thought that I was his girl. So I tell him that he never said so. So he gets down on one knee, IN FRONT OF MY ROOMMATES, and he says, "Kyrie Imani Washington, would you be my girlfriend?" It was sooooo sweet!
It's not so bad dating him, even though some niggas gave me a little static about the shit. And my roommates are mad jealous and catty about it too. But, as I always say, FUCK THEM!
But you're right about the hypocrite thing. I do feel like I'm fuckin' up somehow by not being with a Black man. Like I'm letting our people down. Letting our fuckin ancestors down. But I like him so much. Damn.
So tell me about this fight?!? What club were you at? Yo, you need me to come down and bust some asses? I got your back CRAZILY, yo. Them bitches be fuckin wit the wrong girl. Think I WON'T?! And where was Jameer? What the fuck? I need to know more about that, yo.
Word.
Well, choir rehearsal beckons. I only have a week and a half of classes left, but I'll try to drop you a line or two, if I'm lucky, before I break out. Okay?
Love & Hugs
(& 2 fists if you EVER need 'em!!),
Ky
P.S. Tell your mom that I'ma be home soon to take care of business, so she don't even have to stress it!
Yo,
I'm so salty right now, I can't even speak. I just bumped into my nigga, Pete, right? So I'm like what up, whatever, you know, give him a pound, the whole nine, right? So this mothafucka says that he ain't see me in a while. I says I know, I've been really busy. And he says, "I know, busy swingin' in the damn Jungle!" And this bitch ass accuses me of fallin' off. Me! I told him that I was still down, you know, so what the fuck was he talkin' 'bout? He says that everybody be talkin' about how I've changed since I started dating Chris. So I'm like what the fuck? Then he said I talk like a bourgie Negro now. I says " You can take a nigga like me out the street, but you cant the street out the nigga." He just laughed and said "Whatever." I'm so upset!
Do you really think I've changed? I don't. And no White boy is going to make me forget my people, no matter how sweet he is. So I'm going to have to start spending time with my boys some more (maybe I did fall off a little bit..) and still be with Chris. I won't cut him off, but I'm going to let him know that he can't come before my peeps, at least not all the time. That sounds feasible, right? Right!
I have to go write a paper and then go to church, but I wanted to send this letter off before the post office closes.
LOVING YOU LOTS!!
Ky
Hey,
Good and bad news. Good news first- I got offered a single!! The woman from housing called me and said that one was opening up because someone was going abroad on a program that starts early, and if I wanted it, I could move in that day. I was like WORD?!?! So I tell her I definitely want it and I start packin my shit as soon as I get off the phone!! And then I call Chris and he comes over wit his Jeep and we start loading up my shit, pick up the key and was GHOST. 5000, you know?
So I'm all happy and shit and Chris and I are tryin to hook my new room (which is mad small, but fuck it, it's mine) up a l'il somethin somethin. And this girl who lives down the hall from me comes and helps us unpack. She's crazy cool. Oh, and she's White. So I'm liking this place better already.
But so here's where the bad news starts. I go to dinner with Chris and I see my old R.C. from the other dorm. And he grabs my arm and says some shit about, like, what happened to you? So I tell him that I moved. So he says that everybody's all salty about it and I should stop by and try to smooth things out. And half of me is still saying that they can kiss my Nubian ASS, but the other half is like, hmmm, I probably should do that. Just becuase it is kind of foul to just jet. So I decide to go over later.
But when I go, everybody is mad hostile, talkin 'bout I should have told them that I felt this strongly and that I should have communicated my feelings better, etc., etc... And I felt a little bit bad, but my basic attitude was "Oh well!" You know?
But this whole thig got me to thinkin'. Why is it that Chris, and now this girl in my new dorm, Sarah, are mad cool, and Tara, Dawn, Paul, and most of my old dorm are not? I mean, because of Chris, I know that White people have it in them to be cool. So why don't they? Thngs that make you say, "Hmmmmm..."
So I sort of smoothed it out at my dorm, but we still ain't cool. What's new, right? So, anyway, I go back to my new room, but I can't find any sheets, so I crash at Chris' for the night. And I made the big mistake of telling him about Professor Bobson. He went OFF about how this was so outrageous and how I should report him and he can't believe I would allow such a thing to happen without doing anything about it. He says, "I don't understand, you're such a strong person, Kyrie. Why don't you nail him on it?"
I didn't know how to tell him that I'm not that strong.
Bittersweetly yours,
Ky
Hey you,
I can't wait to come home! It's going to be so great to be home again. I really have too much stress here at school is getting unbearable! They really try to make you stress these last few weeks. But, no, not I! I will survive!
Otherwise, my life is fine. I like my new room and I even like the people on my floor. It's cool.
Oh, did I tell you that I broke up with Chris? Yeah, he wasn't working out, so I dumped him. He's a bit too bossy and demanding for me. Besides, in about a week, I'll be home and get to chill with REAL MEN! YAY! Word.
Well, I have to go to church now. I've been going there almost every day this week. But I guess that since I broke up wit Old Boy, I have a lot of time onn my hands. Well, such is life.
But I'll try to write you one last letter before I come home, if I'm not stressing over finals to much.
Thanks for your letter, by the way. It was sooo long! I'm much too busy to finish it now, but maybe I'll get to it before I come home. Okay?
Love Ky
Dear Monet,
Hi there. You don't know me, but I'm Chris McDonnell, Kyrie's boyfriend. Or at least I was until three days ago.
I don't know if she told you, but an article came out in the campus newspaper about Professor Bobson, the only other r i va l I have, besides you (and herself), for her affections. In case she didn't tell you about it, I'll fill you in. It seems that a young lady on campus has brought her dear professor up on sexual harassment charges. She claims that it happened to her last spring, but she didn't want to take action until now for a couple of reasons. Firstly, she feared that her grade would be in jeopardy. Secondly, she was very scared of him ( I guess he simply has that effect on women). So she waited until now.
The unfortunate thing is that the girl has quite a reputation for being, shall we say, loose with her morals. She plays rugby and our team is famous (or infamous?) for their liberated sexual views and adamant sexual freedom. So there are literal dozens of men coming forward and saying that she is quite agressive sexually. Basically, the story began a quasi battle of the sexes here.
So I told Kyrie that she should go forward. That she has to. It's her duty as a student to help prove that ths guy is harassing students. And she won't do it. Refuses to. I begged her, implored her, even gave her an ultimatum of sorts- go forward or I would break up with her. But, as I'm sure you know, sometimes she can be as stubborn and childish as God knows what!
She gave her reason as being that she didn't want to have anything to do with removing one of the few young, vibrant, African - American professors here. I think her words were "I'll be God damned if I help these crackers bring down the Black man!" She knows I dislike when she says racially slanted things, so I knew that she meant to be abrasive. But, as I'm sure you know as well, she uses race as a defence mechanism when she's scared. I feel very strongly that that is what she is doing now.
I love her very much and admire her strength of character, and I usually support her irregardless, but I know that she could do so much good for this girl's case! I wish I could make her see it in ethical terms rather than racial ones, but she's shut me out of her life, I'm afraid.
I'm writing you for your help. You wouldn't believe the measures I went to just to get your address (it involved climbing in the window of her room), but I knew that you were the only one that could possibly succeed where I have failed. I know that we've taken similar, if not identical standpoints on this issue in the past, as she's shown me a couple of your letters. I'm hoping that you can convince her to take action before she goes home for break, which I believe will be the 22nd for her. If she goes home and has a month not to think about it and doesn't have to worry about taking any more classes of his, she'll never ever act. But if you can persuade her before she goes home, she might come to her senses. I don't understand this, she's got such a good head on her shoulders!
Monet, I love her dearly. I told her so. I don't want to lose her, but this is something that I can't let slide. I can't let race prevent justice. And I simply cannot stand by her is she is willing to just stand by and let it happen.
She's such a passionate person. I'm hoping you can incite enough passion in her about women's rights to do something. I hope you can do better than I did.
Sincerely,
Chris J. Mc Donnell
Hey girl,
Guess what? I'm presently on a bus headed home! That's what I'M talkin 'bout!! Technically, I have one paper left to do (for that daggone I.L.S.!! Good riddance to THAT class!) that's due on the 22nd, but I finished all my exams already, so I'm thinkin' fuck it, I'll wite the paper at home and mail it in! So I'm AUDI!! Yay!
Well have to go shopping when we get home. I haven't bought not one christmas gift yet. Not even yours! So we will have to hit the stores!
How are your finals going? I hope well. Fuck it, I'm sure well! Just think, soon it'll be over. Soon it will all be over.
Well, I guess it makes no sense to write this letter, as I'm going to see you in a few hours. But I get dizzy when I read on the bus and I want to hold off on writing my paper for a little while longer. So I figured I'd just relax, write my best friend in the whole world, and wait for W.B.L.S. to tune in on my walkman. It's all over girl. I made it. I made it through my first semester of college. Virtually unscathed...
Well, I just learned something abut myself. Writing on the bus makes me dizzy too. So I'll stop. But know that I love you. Never forget that, okay?
So close yet so far,
Ky
P.S. Start speadin'the news, I'm leavin' today, I want to BE a PART of it, New York, New York!
P.P.S. I'm in a New York state of mind...
