Month: April 2016

Purple Lemonade




It’s still taking me some time to process the passing of Prince. Yeah, I know Beyonce just dropped a major film and album, of which I watched and listed. Lemonade was great, and I mean that with all honesty. But in listening to her album, and so many other recent hits, I immediately heard the artists and visionaries of those who came decades before her. The artists who have been copied to death, revered to the heavens. And, as great as Beyonce’s new album is, there will never be another Prince. He lit a fiery path that has yet to be duplicated.

Prince. He was a concrete part of my childhood. My uncle would blast his albums day in and day out, and I marveled at this queer sound, full of pulse, passion,  rock and roll and blackness. Where Michael Jackson filled me with girly giddiness, Prince ushered me into womanhood, allowing me to relish in my sexual being. We partied to Prince, made love to Prince, smoked to Prince. He was the soundtrack of my youthful coming out. Song after song reminds me of past boyfriends, Alphabet City, stolen issues of Penthouse, and trips to Paramus Park mall.

Prince. Rest in Power and Soul.


Below, the images and albums that personally touched me:












On Harriet: The Black Body As Currency


I having mixed feelings. On the one hand I am ecstatic that Harriet Tubman will be the face of the new $20 bill. For once, every American and visitor will have to face a defiant Black woman as a primary means of conducting their daily affairs. This is a slap in the face of every open and closeted white supremacist, and nothing short of avoiding currency altogether can keep them from acknowledging the magnitude of this change.

But what does it truly mean to have a woman, a Black woman, who was formerly a slave, her body formerly a monetary instrument, to be used once again on a piece of currency? That the same body conjured such shock and anger amongst Americans, that it would be worth a premium bounty of $40,000? I would venture to say that it seems ironic, if not unabashedly shameful. That the black body was repeatedly passed between hands for centuries, in an emotionless, matter-of-fact manner only to come full circle several hundred years later is pretty deep. How long after the initial hype of the new Harriets wear off will people begin to look at that note with less enthusiasm, and just a symbol of day to day commerce, her face regularly smudged with the countless hands of strangers, crumpled in pockets, stained, ripped, lost, left behind. What legacy is this?

The new Harriets will be amazing, but lets not forget that such a move is problematic and can be viewed as tokenism at best. Sure, we may add the face of this Black woman to the American monetary system, but this is in no way penance for over 400 years of the atrocities and the after effects born of the slave system.

Seydou Keita: Exposure


I regret not getting the chance to see this photography exhibit while I was in Paris. Whenever I hopped on the train, I saw a new, stunning black and white photograph by Malian photographer Seydou Keita that stopped me in my tracks. Maybe it was the beauty of his subjects, the simplicity of the genre, the sharpness of the smallest detail. If you’re going to be in Paris this spring and summer, pop into the Grand Palais and see this exhibit.

Seydou Keita

March 31, 2016 – July 11, 2016 | Grand Palais, Galeries nationales

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Spandex & Tumbleweeds


It’s been awful quiet around here. For the past several months I’ve been focusing on rebuilding my health, training for races, and my first marathon, in Paris (I’ll post on that over on my travel blog). Hence the over-saturation of health-related posts on my Twitter timeline! But in immersing myself in the world of health and fitness, I had forgotten about my love of fashion. No doubt working out has caused me to lose tons of pounds and inches (over 40!) but my weight loss and lifestyle has relegated me to a sea of spandex and running shoes – both out of fear and complete confusion.

A recent glance at my closet had me realizing that I had nothing to wear. All my clothes were just too big, unflattering, or just not my taste anymore. So I’ll be taking the next few weeks to gather some Instagram and Pinterest inspiration, while I find my new style. Nothing like a fresh start.

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