On New Years Day in 2009 police were called to the Oakland Fruitvale BART station after the train conductor reported fights on the train. Moments later, Oscar Grant III, lay on his stomach with his hands behind his back as BART officer, Johannes Mehserle, fired a shot that later proved fatal.  A bystander captured the searing video footage of the tragedy: the video showed the already restrained 22-year-old being shot in his back by Mehserle. As the news spread of yet another unarmed black man dead at the hands of a white officer racial tension bubbled and the theme of police brutality inflamed the Oakland streets.

The case garnered so much publicity  and incited even more racial tension that Alameda County Superior Court Judge, Morris Jacobson, ordered a change of venue for the trial. Now, 18-months later, Mehserle is on trial in Los Angeles without a single black juror on his jury. But does it matter? I don’t think so: I believe the seven white, four Hispanic and one East Indian that are on the jury are capable of seeing justice. But what is justice in this case?

Mehserle has pleaded not guilty to murder charges. His defense is that he intended to pull out/fire his taser but mistakenly grabbed his gun.  The prosecution argues that Mehserle indeed intended to shoot Grant, and that he used his gun because he was losing control of the situation.

I believe it was a hectic situation, but how likely is it that a trained officer of the law mixes up his/her weapon causing a fatality? Did the officer get scared, nervous, and shoot without thinking? Perhaps. Is that acceptable? No.

However, I cannot logically comprehend that this was a pure and intentional killing. Maybe I’m naïve and want to believe we live in a somewhat humane society. I have asked myself a number of times, “Why on earth would a white law enforcement agent kill an unarmed black man in front of a sea of witnesses?”

While I was originally optimistic that Mehserle would be convicted, being back home (in Oakland) and following the trial has erupted an achingly familiar feeling that injustice will prevail once again. In my head I think of a “guilty” verdict, but am met with the visuals of countless batons clamoring down on Rodney King or the deafening sound of the combined 91-shots that claimed both Amadou Diallo and Sean Bell. I hear the cries that still echo for the dead unarmed young black/brown men.  Officers have been getting acquitted for years: will things change starting with Mehserle?

Michael Mineo a drug suspect who alleged an NYPD officer sodomized him, said “I kind of had a feeling it was going to turn out this way,” referring to officers being acquitted in his case. Mineo continued, “If you want to commit a murder, join the NYPD.” Is that what our community members are starting to believe or is that just one suspects opinion? Do you feel that police officers are invincible to the law?

Ten years ago police officer, Marcy Noriega, shot and killed 24-year-old Everardo Torres who was handcuffed and sitting in the back seat of her police car. She said that she meant to grab her taser. She was acquitted.

Perhaps the difference between the Torres and Grant case is that Grant took a cell phone photo of Mehserle holding his Taser prior to being fatally shot. What will this evidence prove to the jury? In the case of Mehserle the prosecution has rested and the defense has begun presenting. To tarnish the late Grant’s character the defense has questioned a police officer who arrested Grant in 2006. According to a police report, Grant ran from officers, resisted arrest, and was ultimately shot with a stun gun. Grant was sentenced to 1.5 years in prison for gun possession. What effect will Grant’s criminal record have on the way jurors perceive his death?

What is going to happen if Mehserle is acquitted? If past responses to similar cases are any indication we need a better solution.Will a community tear up their own neighborhood? Will people come up with a catchy chant, light another candle, and hold another protest or vigil? What are people going to do if Mehserle is acquitted? What will it say about our justice system if he is acquitted? How do these events shape our reactions to and perceptions of law enforcement?

The divide between law enforcement and people of color in the inner city is a stark one. What happens to the psyche of the black and brown men that fear or distrust officers because of such a wretched relationship. What do we do when we live in a community where law enforcement continuously illustrates a less than stellar command of their power?

The talented songstress truly aims to illustrate the title of her fourth album, The Element of Freedom, as she tackles the topic of interracial dating. The Jake Nava directed gem takes a trip through the decades brilliantly showcasing the complications that often surround race and love, in particular a black woman with a white man. Yearning for her love interest, played by the former One Tree Hill actor, Chad Michael Murray, Keys is faced with the challenge of leaping across racial confines and defining her own ending or allowing others to dictate it.

In essence, her having interest in or being with Murray remains “unthinkable” to her friends and family (especially her brother).  And while some people believe that with the election of President Obama we live in a post-racial society where love (among other things) is color-blind, this video reminds us that racism is still alive and that acting on love isn’t always simple. Jake Nava had a vision in directing the video, he said, “Alicia is a true artist and I was very pleased that she was brave enough to go with this unusual concept. Together I believe we have done something new and important. I hope people are entertained by this video, but that it also makes them think.” Has his mission been accomplished?

Keys is applauded by many for taking such a leap with her video, but some critics discount the video’s power by arguing that there is nothing “un-thinkable” about the bi-racial beauty pursuing a romantic relationship with a white man. But in this video her being bi-racial takes a back seat to her talent, the message and her sultry voice (at least for me it does). She is a black woman who boldly addresses the stigmas surrounding interracial dating and exemplifies courage. If more black women will follow suit is a different story.

As the video closes Keys is faced with a tough choice – leave her family and walk out the door to be with Murray, who’s waiting outside in his truck, or remain a prisoner to her families perspective and the larger stigmas of society. Of course, she chooses to go.

The video couldn’t have come at a more interesting time as the state of black women and relationships have been prime debate. From Jill Scotts’ Essence article on the “wince,” to the “Nightline Face-Off”: Why Can’t a Successful Black Woman Find a Man? to the Economist’s Sex and the single black woman: How the mass incarceration of black men hurts black women we’re all a bit tired of the topic. But Keys’ video is the “Something New” of today. Check it out!

Here we are four months later. Haiti is no longer headline news, but the country has a long way to go in rebuilding its infrastructure. And while it’s easier to forget about what’s happening to Haiti (because it’s not in your face) I want to put Haiti back on our minds this summer. Staying true to my generation I’m organizing a charity date auction where proceeds will go directly to support Haiti.

Last year I collaborated with some of friends to create THE Date Auction, which was an after-work political fundraiser to help support our friend, Medhanie Estiphanos, who was running for City Council in Brooklyn’s District 35. The free event was a success thanks to: volunteer date auctionees, diverse restaurant sponsors, a live jazz band, a dope DJ set, a swanky venue and a beautiful turnout. This summer I plan to do THE Date Auction again, only this time it’s A Date For Haiti.

If you are interested in being a sponsor, an events committee member, an auctionee, or offering support in any other way, for A Date for Haiti, please email me here.

Kitchen Dread in 1992

As a kid, Stacy dreaded the twice a month Saturday morning ritual that she shared with her mother. She usually shuffled her feet across the floor until she made it to the kitchen. She would inch herself up the tall wooden barstool and plop her small frame atop the hard surface.

The time for her to get her hair straightened had arrived. Brenda, her mother, would wash and blow-dry Stacy’s hair and the process would begin. Brenda started by boiling the hot comb; boiling it removes the residue from previous pressing sessions. Brenda used the same hot comb on Stacy that her mother used on her hair when she was a child. Stacy had fine textured hair but it was very curly, so her mother pressed it to make it straight. Brenda didn’t have to tell Stacy when she was due for a press – the minute her hair began puffing up she knew it was time.

Brenda would place the hot comb directly on the burner of the stove for approximately one minute to heat it up. After dividing Stacy’s hair into sections two inches wide, she started the part Stacy feared. She removed the comb, and began smoothing Stacy’s hair with the back of the hot comb. Brenda put the hot comb into a section of her daughter’s hair, starting at the root and combing through it. She laid the back of the pressing comb flat against her daughter’s hair, firmly running the comb through each section, until she straightened it. The part Stacy dreaded most was when Brenda pressed the hair near her ears and went for the dreaded “kitchen” the hair on the nape of her neck. Whenever Brenda got to the sides, Stacy would wince, inhale the smell of burned hair, listen to the sizzle of her locks frying and pray her mother wouldn’t burn her. Stacy really wanted her “kitchen” to be straightened, she didn’t want other kids to make fun of her, and so she stood perfectly still when her mother pressed against the nape of her neck. Stacy didn’t want to be one of the kids who got teased for having a “nappy kitchen.” Brenda sometimes burned Stacy, making the straightening ritual agony for Stacy. One day, when Stacy was in elementary school, Brenda accidentally dropped the hot comb on Stacy’s forehead. Her bright skin was left with the dark imprint of a comb: she wore bangs to hide the scar until the mark crusted over and disappeared.

Although Stacy hated the process of getting her hair pressed, she loved the result. When her hair was straightened she could wear big girl hairstyles – a ponytail, Shirley Temple ringlets or the ultimate teenage style that allowed her tresses to free fall. But Stacy also knew the restraint of wearing her straightened (pressed). She couldn’t play hard because exerting too much energy meant she might sweat her hair out or puff up the edges. Stacy stopped worrying about getting her hair pressed when she was 9-years-old. That was the year she got her first perm (the chemical treatment of hair to change the texture from tightly coiled to straight.)

The Image

After that, Stacy reveled in getting her hair relaxed. As she grew older, she really began priding herself on her looks, especially her hairstyles. Traditionally, perms should be reapplied every 6-8 weeks. And Stacy wanted to get her hair permed right on the 6-week mark. She would not tolerate a stray hair, a slight lump, puffy edges, or the curl of the hair around the nape of her neck. She wanted her hair bone straight; she wanted every strand to lie down peacefully. She was convinced that the epitome of beauty rested in that look. Stacy risked over-processing her hair to achieve the straightened look. If her hair was straight, it looked like “good hair,” and if she didn’t perm it, she would have “bad hair.” Stacy didn’t want to have bad hair.

Every two weeks, she had a number of styles to choose from. She would get a roller set, an up do, a weave, braids, flat twist or a straightened bob. She usually spent $120 a month on her hair, and if she got it braided she would spend $200. She became quite the it girl with her hairstyles. In her freshman year at the University of Southern California she was known as the “prissy, stuck up light-skin girl” by her college mates. She was a tad taller than 5-foot-9 and always wore high-heels. She had a blemish-free, honey-hue that looked like it was brushed with cinnamon; her make-up was carefully applied, her clothing hugged the curves of her frame and her long straight black hair fell slightly past her shoulders. She had perfect teeth and a smile that could reassure a person of her kindness. Her schoolmates had taken to calling her Beyonce, an American R&B singer many consider the queen of beauty.

An engima: 2006

When Stacy was a senior in college, she was granted a USC summer scholars award. Becoming increasingly curious about her origins, she set out to do genealogical research, she wanted to sankofa, an Akan word from Ghana, meaning, “to go back and get it.” Sankofa is commonly associated with the contemporary black proverb: “You can’t know where you are going, unless you know where you’ve been,” and Stacy wanted to know the answer to both questions. Stacy searched for records of births, deaths, and marriages, deeds and wills – she was determined to sankofa. After researching extensively Stacy began to learn more and more about her family’s experience in the greater black history.

On a hot and sticky day in July, Stacy, called her mother to discuss her ideas and awakening. She wanted to cut her hair off. This was her way of getting to her roots literally. Her mother quickly objected, explaining, that hair was a woman’s crown and glory in their family. Brenda couldn’t understand why Stacy would want to ruin her hair and tried to dissuade Stacy by reminding her that she had a big head, a lopsided head, and a head only fit to be covered with a lot of hair. Why would she want cut all of her hair off? After talking to her mother and listening to her discourage her choice, she made a life altering decision.

Stacy entered her bathroom, looked in the mirror and realized she was going to do it – she was ready to cut her hair. Stacy set up her tripod and movie camera, positioned it to film her as she cut her hair in the mirror. Staring at herself in the mirror, she took the scissors and began trimming chunks of hair. She talked into the camera. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she said. “If I’m going on this journey, if I’m working this hard to find my roots,” Stacy said. Grabbing her hair, “I literally need to find my roots,” she said. Stacy, at that moment, began questioning the concept of beauty that black girls had, she wondered why having her hair straight was her past preference. As a child she didn’t have a choice of hair texture, but now she was reclaiming herself.

She was shedding the persona of Stacy and beginning anew. Identity is so tied to hair in the black community, she thought. She realized the permanence of what she was doing. As much as she hated the cliché, it was her defining moment. She couldn’t take it back. Stacy couldn’t perm a shaved head. She couldn’t add tracks to it (weave it). She would be stuck for a while, and like it or not, she had to love it. As she cut her hair, she realized she didn’t recognize the woman in the mirror. But, again, she started smiling, saying, “My head ain’t that big momma.” She was meeting herself for the first time.

The Find

She kept thinking about a passage she had read, written by Toni Morrison:

“And so it looked as though the world was going by and I was not in that world. I used to live in this world…I used to really belong here. And at some point I didn’t belong here anymore…And I was looking for that dead girl…And as I began to do it, I began to pick up scraps of things I had seen or felt, or didn’t see or didn’t feel, but imagined…And I fell in love with myself. I reclaimed myself and the world – a real revelation. I named it. I described it. I listed it. I identified it.”

After Stacy cut her hair into an uneven disaster, she felt insecure. Moments later she felt very powerful, repeating to herself, “I am not my hair,” the lyrics to a song by  India Arie. She started singing and dancing, swaying her hips from side to side, smiling – she felt so free.

Then she realized she had to go outside – face the world. People were actually going to see her. She put on a hat and headed to the barbershop. She wore a bohemian styled skirt, a tank top that revealed her cleavage, make up, and ethnic jewelry – she made a point to reveal her physique. She had to reclaim her femininity. She wanted to make sure people didn’t mistake her for a lesbian (she knew people stereotyped women with short hairstyles). With the style, it became unavoidable.

Stacy let the barber shave her head. Still uncomfortable with her new look, she wore head wraps and caps for a few days. It took a while for her mind to fit what she saw. She was getting used to the new look. She began investing in earrings; she needed something else to make her look feminine. She wouldn’t leave her dorm room without wearing earrings.

Who is she?

Once she removed her cap a few days later, Stacy witnessed the strange gazes. She noticed eyebrows lifting, and people whispering. People couldn’t believe what they were seeing. Who was this person? It wasn’t the Stacy they thought they knew.

“I don’t even recognize you,” said John, a friend of Stacy’s from college. “You came to school freshman year looking like Beyonce. You had your hair straightened, make up intact, high-heels on. You were well put together and now you have your ethnic look going on. You look like a different person. “I guess you are not your hair,” he said.

She was no longer the “prissy, stuck up light skin girl.”

Brenda, and her brother, James, went to pick Stacy up from the bus station one day.

They had not seen Stacy since she shaved her hair. Once Stacy got off the bus, and didn’t see her mother, she called her.

“Mom, where are you?”

“We’re across the street.”

“I don’t see you.”

Walking behind the bus, Stacy saw her uncle’s truck. She met eyes with her mom and began walking across the street.

“Where is she? I don’t see her,” asked James, Stacy’s uncle.

“She’s right in front of you,” Brenda replied. She realized Stacy had really cut all her hair off. She had a man’s haircut, it was pretty drastic.

Puzzled, James said, “I still don’t see her.”

“Well, I do, she’s right in front of you,” Brenda said in disbelief but with certainty.

Stacy walked up to the truck and gave them both big hugs.

Brenda’s eyes lit up in shock, “Oohhhh,” she said.

“Good gracious, all mighty, she cut all her hair off,” Harold said. “Why did you cut off all of your hair?”

The names in this story have been changed.

Commissioned by the Times Square Alliance, the mural depicts black & Latino women in a light that has garnered criticism. The mural showcases the women: dressed provocatively, wearing long acrylic nails, showy jewelry, bright hair colors, their bodies adorned with tattoos and piercing, and their hands equipped with knuckle braces. While some think her work is “beautiful,” critics have coined it “ghetto” and are calling for the murals removal, saying: “it’s degrading to all women.”

The young artist says her art aims to capture the “chaos of the city and the abandoned structures within them.” So, are New Yorkers overreacting or do they have a point? Maldonado spoke to The Daily Voice Managing Editor, Sylvia A. Harvey, about her mural and her intentions.

Note: to see more photos of the mural courtesy of Zach Callahan click here.

SYLVIA A. HARVEY: As a Latina woman is their significance to having your work commissioned by the Time Square Alliance and having it featured in such a popular location in New York City?

SOFIA MALDONADO: Of course, that has been one of my drives. I feel proud and it motivates me to keep working hard to be an example to girls and women (Latina or not) out there. It’s a hard world for most women, but we can overcome these issues by [owning] our personal sense of femininity.

HARVEY: How did you come up with the concept for the mural? Who are the women you’ve painted?

MALDONADO: I wanted to portray the untold story. The characters in [this piece] are strong looking and in control of their sexuality. They represent captivating women I have encountered: the brave, strong, and tough women who have to overcome daily struggles. Women that have to impose themselves in a male-dominated world, in a post-feminist society these women can own their bodies in a powerful way without being depicted negatively.

HARVEY: So you don’t think these women are being portrayed negatively?

MALDONADO: No. While working on a project in Hartford, Connecticut, commissioned by Real Art Ways, I was placed in a Puerto Rican community. The community identified with my characters and did not feel offended.

HARVEY: Did you talk to community members about the mural?

MALDONADO: Yes. As an artist, I understand the importance of interacting with the locals before painting a mural in their neighborhood. Women that worked at a nearby nail-art salon decorated characters in the mural. They applied their aesthetic with acrylic nail designs, painting long eyelashes, glitter eye shadow, bright lipstick, tattooing their names and adorning their bodies with piercing. I wanted to share this with New York.

HARVEY: Critics have accused you of generalizing black and Latina women by the depictions in the mural. Is that the case or is it a case of airing a cultures so called “dirty laundry?”

MALDONADO: I have no intentions to generalize a specific culture. Women should be respected despite their attire: it shouldn’t be limited to high-couture or corporate wear. I am not interested in representing the typical canons of “perfect beauty” that people see in magazines or on television.

Dirty laundry” should be shown about every culture. Censorship and image editing is one of the biggest issues in our society today.

HARVEY: While on FOX News Anthony Herbert, a community advocate asked, “Why are they not standing here with briefcases and cell phones or even communicating with people to show the professionalism of black and Latino women?” What is your response to that?

MALDONADO: The whole concept behind the mural was to [go against the grain], not to paint a mural that would fit perfectly on 42nd Street. In my first draft I did have women with brief cases. But I was [depicting] what people would love to see. Why not contrast with Time Square: what about the women people don’t pay attention to?

HARVEY: Not everyone is opposed to your piece. Some have called it “beautiful.” Where do you think that interpretation/understanding comes from?

MALDONADO: I live in [Bedford-Stuyvesant] and it is a picturesque, beautiful, and culturally enriching neighborhood. The people that feel a connection with [my mural] understand the variations of beauty and [culture].

HARVEY: What do you have to say to the women that feel your mural is “degrading to all women” and fosters the same stereotypes that black and Latino women are struggling to overcome.

MALDONADO: This mural has provoked a conflict with some people’s view of female aesthetic and bodies. As a woman I see nothing wrong with their clothing or [representation.] It is a woman’s choice. When it comes to advertisement [the] media ignores these women. Or if represented, they portray it as a “negative” factor of our society. I specifically selected this type of femininity to deconstruct that negative stereotype. By taking control of my Latino-culture I define this as a “non-negative.”

HARVEY: Some of the women appear to be in suggestive poses. What are they doing?

MALDONADO: They are dancing! They are enjoying freedom and listening to reggaeton and dancehall. I originally had a radio in the scene but removed it. (Chuckling) Maybe I should have left it in.

HARVEY: Do you relate to the women in your piece?

MALDONADO: I am very proud to be Caribbean. It is a positive culture that celebration the body, music, art, and dance. While living in the states I have been able to work in partnership with different women organizations. I appreciate the [culture exchange]. In my next mural project I am planning to collaborate with female inmates and/or domestic violence victims.

HARVEY: Is the mural for any ethnic group in particular?

MALDONADO: It’s for everybody! Although, there is a small detail for my Boricua people: the character with the green jumpsuit has “LIBERTAD 1898 (the date when USA invaded Puerto Rico)” written in her knuckle brace. We are still one of the last colonies in the Caribbean and cannot vote for our President.

HARVEY: Overall, what is the mission of your mural? What do you want people to take from it?

MALDONADO: It’s a celebration and recognition of a specific stereotype that has been portrayed as negative. I am not generalizing Latina or black woman, just deconstructing people’s minds. Why are we fighting that pseudo-negative stereotype? Negative, why? In the Caribbean [what the women are wearing in the mural] is a normal dress in some areas.

I want people to see: beauty, empowerment and confident women: to understand the relativity of beauty.

HARVEY: This mural is just a part of your work, I know that you also have a drawing installation titled, “The Queens.” How does that compare or contrast to your current piece?

MALDONADO: It’s a tribute to the “The Queens” of the Shrine. Fela Anikulapo Kuti’s struggle against colonialism has been a great inspiration for me. At Vermont Studios art residency program I was able to develop 27 ink drawings while listening to Fela’s music. These women carried their beauty and power with so much pride, after all the circumstances and government attacks they lived through, supporting an anti-colonialist cause. The Queens unconditional support to Fela Kuti should be recognized, and praised. The women in the mural deserve to be seen too.

HARVEY: With people rallying to have your mural removed, what are your hopes for it?

MALDONADO: That it stays. I am [committed] to my statement as an artist, and will continue to speak for the issues I feel are important. I know there are people that understand my vision, and for those who do not agree with it, I respect them as well. I didn’t intend to spark controversy but it has raised some interesting issues [within our society.]

[original post]

- William James