Homework

So, tonight, I have to proofread my son's book report on The Hunger Games. I have not had time to read it (I try to read along with them, but I am playing catch-up from my absolutely ridiculous laziness over the break). Description? Thesis? Trying to read about it online while skimming his copy, but I'm starting to give it the side-eye.

I Think I Should Be Rewarded for that Cake...

... I have to have this book. Yes, as in NEED.

Black women, alleged by affirmative-action supporters and opponents to be "twofers," recount how they have confronted racism, sexism, and homophobia on college campuses. They explore how the personal and the political intersect in historical research and writing and in the academy. Organized by the years the contributors earned their Ph.D.'s, these essays follow the black women who entered the field of history during and after the civil rights and black power movements, endured the turbulent 1970s, and opened up the field of black women's history in the 1980s. By comparing the experiences of older and younger generations, this collection makes visible the benefits and drawbacks of the institutionalization of African American and African American women's history. Telling Histories captures the voices of these pioneers, intimately and publicly.

Thanks so much to Kismet from whom I found this.

Cotton Wool

Once, I read this romance novel (not literally once; I've probably read thousands), and because it was a Harlequin Presents, the hero and heroine were English (maybe not the hero. Apparently, while white English women are teh shit, the white English men are all bland and blond and boring. No, the hero was probably Italian. Or Greek. Or some "exotic other." But I digress.)

The heroine had a really hard life (her parents had done one of the standard Ds necessary in the line--Died, Disowned her, or Distanced themselves), as hard as it can be for the 21 years that you're gorgeous and brilliant until you meet your BILLIONAIRE husband (speaking of which, I don't read the Presents line anymore, but as I pass the titles, I am amazed by how many BILLIONAIRES there are in the world. And virgins. And sheikhs. But I digress). Because her life had been so hard, the hero, who back then was probably only a meager millionaire, revealed his love (after being a complete asshole out to ruin her for 180 pages) by telling her something like, "If I could, I would wrap you in cotton wool and ease all your pain."

And, being the ignorant American, I thought, "What the hell is cotton wool? (And fortnight. And gaol. But I digress). When I realized it was just cotton, I thought, "Ohhhh. How sweet."

That phrase has stuck with me since I was a teengager. The feminist in me balks at it--another attempt to pedestal-ize and "protect." But, part of me can't help loving the sentiment and that tenderness implied in the statement (even if it is a sentiment and tenderness predicated on the concept that this is a "hard, cold" world for women). And sometimes, I feel that way about people.

See, this isn't just a sarcastic explanation about why I no longer read that particular line. It is a response to these posts by Bint and Kactus. These are strong, smart, wonderful women whom I respect. When I hear of their suffering, I think about that phrase.

The cotton wool seems impractical, but I hope they know they are wrapped in love, respect, and admiration. And I hope it does ease the pain.

Literature

After an unusually long PTO meeting, I stopped at the store to try to buy a new USB cord to plug my digital camera into the computer. It disappeared in Louisiana and has yet to be seen again.

Anyway, I couldn't help myself... I stopped by the book department, particularly the section labeled "African American." For long moments, I stood mesmerized by a most scrumptious trifecta: autobiographies of LL, Denzel, and Tavis, all with lovely cover photos (Lord, ha'mercy, LL!). Once I tore myself away, I realized that I've been ordering books online too long; apparently, so-called "urban" books are all the rage. The shelves were swamped with them. And Lord, some of the titles made my eyebrows lift. Titles like She Ain't the One, Around the Way Girls, My Woman His Wife and so many others. And y'all, I swear, there was one called Someone Else's Puddin. WTF?

And before you think I'm giving urban books a particularly hard time, I will admit to judging those particular selections solely by their covers. They could be excellent--but I can't get past the puddin' reference! I have read a couple of urban books though--I remember liking one quite a bit. The other one was too much for me--not in terms of sex or suspense or drama (I won't even get into some of the non-academic stuff I read and enjoy)--but just something about the whole package. It was a little overwhelming.

Next were the inspirational books. I smiled politely at those, picked up a couple, and returned them to their correct spots. That's another prejudice I have--I'm scared if I actually read one, I'll come away feeling guilty. I know, I know, I'm a grown ass woman who makes her own choices. But it's hard to escape that Baptist upbringing sometimes.

And then there was a little interesting section where urban seemed to meet inspirational with titles like Drama in the Church and some works by Kimberla Lawson Roby (whom I have not read) that focused on... well, drama in the church.

There was a work by Zane--Caramel Flava. I didn't even have to pick it up--I got it for Christmas. :-) And, I started to pick up a carelessly placed copy of He's Just Not that into You, make copies, and distribute it to a couple of friends. But, hell, we know the signs; there's no use in paying ten bucks for affirmation.

There were also (my favorite!!) black cookbooks. Cooking with Garvin, whom I don't know. Mo'nique's You Can't Trust a Skinny Cook--which was all funny to me until I realized the cooking shows I watch most often have Paula Deen, Ina Garten, and Emeril. And, Rachael Ray, of course, who's a bit curvy. I didn't particularly like Giada de Laurentiis and another slender woman whose name escapes me now. Apparently, elle shares the wariness about skinny cooks. And one called Cooking for Your Man, which I was all ready to get on my high horse about, but then I had a reality check. Enough said.

Finally, pushed out of the African American section were the works by more mainstream black authors. They were on a shelf simply labeled "novels." I hope that's because they have such a loyal fan base and sell so well that people will seek them out. But given the number of highly-glossed lips, barely covered bottoms, stacks of money, and sunglasses (when did they become teh symbol of "urban"?) I saw in the other section, I doubt it.

I just realized there's no way I can edit that last paragraph to not sound snobby--well, maybe except to say, if it gets people reading, good.

What did I buy? Did I even buy anything? I'm not telling because, if I did buy something, trust, it goes on this list begun by petitpoussin. And I'm not ready to divulge. **she writes coyly**

The Giving Tree

That's my son's library book this week. We just read it.

That book always makes me sad, somewhere, deep down.