Bob Marley definitely had the blues.

His artistry- the music, the dancing, the expression, the spirituality, the Wailers, his wailing- all showed the world his soul, and his soul was blue.


Could you be loved?
He was blue. He looked at the world and realized that only way that he could reconcile what he perceived was to amend reality, to help others raise their consciousness. For a man with the blues, there is no dichotomous, ignorance/depression, set of realities in which to exist. Rage is but one way to respond to inequality. For the Blues man, he walks the line: All his sadness reeks with joy. All his pain oozes with ecstasy- salacious and divine, simultaneously. And, his tenderness is as undeniable as his rage: His ability to speak from a voice of compassion skirts the two, hence both, rage and tenderness are vibrant and strong, pervading the erotic and the conscious: Could you be loved? The Blues man is unafraid to face his own fallacies for he is willingly vulnerable. His despair, ridden with hope:

His belly full but we hungry/A hungry mob is a’ angry mob/ Rain a fall, but the dirt be tough/ Pot to cook, but da’ food not ‘nough/ We gon’ dance to the music

Bob Marley always spoke to the oppressed, and therefore spoke for us. He was never berating, nor boatful of his success. His primary audience were not the millions of whites who filled the stands of his concerts in America, but those so disenfranchised that they could not bear to look him in the face, and could not accept his music- that primal ‘jungle’ beat. Staring at his dreads, the nappy Negro knows not the fate he suffers; he looks in mirrors and struggles to see a Black man, refusing to be a Nigger. Yet Bob, like many, says that unless you resist, you’re a Nigger nonetheless. Success in itself is insufficient for this transformation from a Nigger to another, since a rich Nigger, an educated Nigger, a well-mannered Nigger, and a nice Nigger, are all Niggers just the same. Sadly, for this blue’s man, much of his US success came from the colonial view, the seductiveness of the Other, despite Bob’s message of One Love.

War.
‘Tyron Greene and His Reggae Band’, One of Eddie Murphy’s signature characters from his tenure on the cast of Saturday Night Live is the knotty dread-head, faux Rasta voice of youth. He and his group of wannabe Rasta back-up singers chant ‘Kill the white people, but buy my record first’ to the tune of a standard/ized Reggae riff. The entirely white audience abandons the gig as the announcer stumbles through: I thought they were gonna do Day Oh (a more heavily chant song of resistance from a long time resistor). As if comment on the life and times to come, the white audience members quickly and quietly filed out of the gathering, disgusted by Tyron’s rage; that one Black child, the only Black in that audience, stayed on to jam with the band and learn his lesson: Play the tune of transgression and your bills will be paid. Like the film version of Toni Morrison’s book Beloved, the rage against racism is grotesque to see (hence the relative lack of commercial success), yet concordantly an expected and rationalized response to brutal oppression an inequality, and thereby - it forces viewers to face their own culpability. Oprah’s hand in bringing the story to light is highly lauded amongst a different audience- those not afraid to hold on for the Blue note.

One consequence of racism is the expectation that the victimized will eventually respond with the type of raw rage used to establish enforce the staid position of power. Many people fear the unabated display of undistressed devaluing of life, as played out on many urban streets. This is the modern lynching of the Negro- the hate turned inwards if not for lack of any form of expressions and void of means to alleviate conflict when scurrying to survive. Inner city crime is hegemonically a consequence of life in America. Many seek solace in having MORE than some someone else; we struggle to be fabulous because its polar opposite must be the ghetto. Bob rejected this mentality and this made his image grotesque, if not exotic. Many people have the Blues.

Black-on-Black crimes are a rudimentary form of the violence that pervades our society, rules our policy, and polity; violence absolutely pervades the rich history discussed here. In stark contrast to the grotesque rage expected from those lashed, the Blues does not end with anger and blame, but with responsibility: the Blue note is colored and always signifies (the possibility) of change, no matter how blue. The Blues is humanity stripped of all norms, a Blues individual harnessing the ability to feel blue, freely, facing reality head on, and stall any propensity towards fear: Again, it wears its vulnerability in each falsetto, strained note. The Blues is what separates humans from animals and higher form lower beings: It’s compassion. Even Bob knew that at times we must forgive ourselves for our weakness precisely in order to move on. Toni Morrison has the Blues. Mos Def has the Blues. ‘Pirate Jenny’ Nina Simone definitely had the Blues. Stevie Wonder, Erykah Badu and Marvin Gaye all got the Blues, and of course there are other. Alice Walker and bell hooks also got the Blues.

Tyron Green and His Reggae Band present then, raw Black rage, after all, the most comfortable stance for a Black man before a white audience: Everyone knows where he stands. This itself makes many of us blue. Tyron’s Green’s refrain, ‘We sing of freedom and equality/But we really don’t care, we just want money, money…’ clearly characterizes popularized Hip-Hop- the reigning cult a transgressive/progressive youth. Few whites, and Blacks for that matter, responded to Bob’s acknowledgement that we are, in fact, at war.

Black people everywhere live in relative poverty as compared to their white counterparts. This is the case throughout the Americas, Africa, Europe, Australia and Asia. In most of the new world, Cuba notably excluded, this fact is literally just black and white. Blacks fall short on virtually every health indicator in the United States from susceptibility and severity of both lifestyle and chronic diseases, as well as a greater likelihood of death when treating disease even when corrected for income and education disparities. Bob, paraphrasing Haile Sellasie, reminded those who would rather not know, that: Until the philosophy which hold one race superior and another inferior is finally and permanently discredited and abandoned everywhere is war. Me say war.

Eracism.
In India, the caste system has been confounded with subjugation at the hands of conquerors from the north, either Persians or Romans, to create and uphold a system of oppression, with all of the typically ensuing ramifications that give birth to the color code (that equates fair with beauty and prosperity, darkness with dread and destitution). If fair is lovely, then, what is dark? If fair implies wealth and success, even and especially in the popular culture, then were do the dark citizens stand? If fair is marriageable, and ‘wheatish’ a virtual apology, then what words are used to describe the Others? Given white/fair-skin privilege in India and encapsulating the globe, dark skin is unfair. Racism hurts, is persistent and cannot dissipate without action. Oh won’t you decolonize your mind.
For the Blues man, the fact that we are at war with racism does not preclude us from enjoyment. Suffering under the tyranny of racist regimes in, for example, “Angola, Mozambique, South Africa- subhuman bondage,” does not disallow the experience heaven and hell on Earth for any and all involved; both are facets of life, a verity that especially the oppressed must see. This Blues man reminds us of the imperativeness of taking the opportunity to “forget your weakness and dance.” There’s hope, and this is the Blue note. MLK obviously had the Blues.

Upgrade to a Rather Retro Beat.

When I first heard it, I bopped and swang like nobodies business. For any fan of contemporary Black music, anywhere, Upgrade You has all the basics of success: it’s a base-driven polyrhythm, with the added certainty of Hip Hp: Self-aggrandizement and major Bling. The music alone makes your hips grind.

By the bridge I was scrubbing the floor, which got really serious when our Diva spilled out: I can do for you what Martin did for the people/Ran by the men but the women keep the tempo. OK. Evoking the good Reverend Doctor MLK, whom many consider to be America’s greatest civil leader, is serious business when few other images exist in the popular imagination. Worse, the story that these stars tell leaves a dampening and sober mood over the lives of girls growing up in such a racially charged and overtly sexist society.

Likening herself to the recently late Coretta Scott King made me take another hard look at the facts of Black life. MLK was necessarily middle class as much as his wife was necessarily fair skinned, and, again equally, to remain an ascetic widow for the rest of her natural life in order that she tend to that tenured flame, steadily, bravely keeping the beat for the people. Unsurprisingly this same nation is solely unprepared for women leadership. We are in fact one of the few wealthy nations to hold so tight tot this aspect of patriarchy; the sin is in regurgitating that narrow vision as a narration of our lives. Here in India, where my landlady is a widow. After one dispute a friend suggested that I politely tell her that I had heard that it was bad luck to see a widow before noon and that I just didn’t want o chance it. What’s a girl to do? According to our Diva:

It's very seldom that you're blessed to find your equal/Still play my part and let you take the lead role/Believe me/I'll follow this could be easy

Martin and Coretta, and unsurprisingly like Beyoncé and Jay Z, present very conservative gender roles in public eye (who knows what reality lies therein). Through this, I suppose, appeal for and gain public support. Ultimately Beyoncé promises to be a descent homemaker and consumer, the woman behind the great man, thereby granting her equality and the ability to even uplift her partner. Beyoncé, like the Doris Day’s of those days, promises to take care of home and stay fly. Recreating antiquates gender roles is apparently easy, and certainly sells. She will show him how to spend money- and she’ll keep titillating on stage, hustling for cash to feed their happiness. Switching his neckties to purples labels is her commercial upgrade. Home girl goes on to say: Notice you the type that like to keep them on a/Leash though…You need a real woman in your life/It take me just to compliment the deal/Just when you think you had it all. These lyrics sounds pretty regressive compared to Janet Jackson’s 1987 decree: You might say that I'm no good…I got too many things I wanna do before I'm through…Baby you can hold me down, baby you can hold me down. Honestly, I fail to see the ‘up’ in these grades.

Bling!
Our ethic of ‘I’m gonna get mine, so you betta get yours’ is one of the hottest exports to ever reach screens across the developing world. Moreover, the popular images is the image that if those people, the former slaves or even the women amongst their lot can attain such gleaning greatness in the land of the plenty, then perhaps the ethics marketed as hedonistic materialism can work for all. Yet, such ethic grounding, as author/critic bell hooks reminds us in her groundbreaking Challenging Media interview: creates a culture where there is no moral or ethical valuation that you can bring to bear upon anything ‘cause the assumption is that we all share the common morality of the dollar which is, get as much as you can as quickly as you can by any means necessary.

The hedonistic materialism perpetuated as a viable lifestyle sells an American dream that is well supported by our global policies. In these times of violence and increasing global gaps in access to basic resources such as education and health care, we must yield to messages of peace and of reconciliation. Yet, by getting more, by any means necessary, we can never come to judge our actions by any greater standard than that of appropriating resources: We can never really upgrade ourselves. I once read that if the cure to HIV/AIDS were a clean glass of water, then most of the world’s citizens would still be screwed. For several scenes in the music video, amidst the exotics cars, clothing and bedazzling jewels, Beyoncé stuffs her mouth with a multi-carrot diamond; I guess that is all that matters.

Bone straight: Rich women who compromise everything.

8 August 2007: Emancipation Proclamation Day!

Flip. I make it past the cover and hope that the hallo-effect hovering over this issue’s ethereal cover girl is not representative of what one would find inside. Flip. Cars- at least there is no inexplicably near-naked girl on the hood, so far we’re safe. Flip. The Bling begins. One of Hollywood’s newest, bright stars seduces viewers into luxury brand bliss. I remember that girl from way back when. She was fine as hell and cheerful, too, all of which went well with the bounce and natural body of her hair, which stood like a crown. Now her relaxed tresses reflect a more refined woman, a luxury brand prima donna. This page faces a first near (butt) naked Safronia- the exotic mulatto-looking frail and wanton child in a swimsuit on a beach against several large, rough black boulders; looks like lake Michigan. Her wet hair swings and flows (that’s why she she’s in a swimsuit!), her innocence is as seductive as that damn diamond laden bezel.
Flip. This chick that looks like Beyoncé, which makes me do a double take. They got me! I looked, again, and definitely took notice of the brand that this caramel-eyed damsel promotes. I have seen this chick before and have that same reaction … I fall for the same trick every time. Flip. Now they have a boney dark skin chick that looks like Kelly, and I am wondering if that was Beyoncé on the previous page? Perhaps the pop group has reunited to endorse cosmetics, too? ‘Flawless’ reads that banner covering one diva, ‘endless’ sashaying across the final chick- another mulatto type with that Jane of the jungle hair that seems to resist resting against her (naked) back. There apparently are not that many ‘ways to style’ contrary to the ad’s final declaration.
The more I flip, the more I flip out. The everyday heroines highlighted throughout the magazine impress me; it is just as I remember, neatly fanned between the latest issues of Jet and Ebony on my great Aunt’s coffee table. We see all shades, shapes and textures of Black women, including sections devoted to Black men ‘speaking out’ about why they love Black women, no doubt a ploy to boost confidence against a cultural landscape filled with butt-naked music videos hoes at a ratio of 10:1 vis-à-vis a clothed rapper- the apparent marker of Hip-Hop success. Indeed, we live in a rich, white male dominated nation and despite the Abraham Lincoln’s infamously ignored 1862 proclamation, which essentially did not liberate most Black people from slavery until the 13th Amendment in 1865, Black women’s bodies in particular are still a commodity.
She is ‘shapely’ blessed with ‘so much flavor’, known to ‘willingly embrace challenges and always succeed’. Fetch, girl, sweep up one of these men! ‘There is absolutely nothing sexier than a women who has curves in all the right places’, one brother boasted, and ‘There’s nothing more attractive that a Black woman in heels’ gloated another.
These brothers essentially describe a patriarchal fantasy cloaked in modern day sensibilities. Yet she is still like the martyr Sita in Hindu mythology- the brave and sacrificial one. Flip. Even Queen Latifah, Hip-Hop’s first fiery feminist (Ladies First!) and early House Music aficionada, is blond. Long gone are her African head wraps and red, black and green. The gold dust and articulate lighting seem to give Latifah that ethereal glow- she’s a cover girl. I suppose this is the reproduction of stardom.
Flip. ‘Amazing length’. There are fairness creams, soaps with before and after pictures, and full-page close-ups of barely tanned models with angular noses, bleach-white smiles, and thin, licentiously gapping tented lips. The darkest girl seems to have the longest, silkiest, bone straight hair, laid like a dead fur tightly across her forehead.
Proudly, the first ad in one issue is a Black-owned manufacturer selling products for natural hair. Another ad, a 3-page exposé on hair care, peddled products catering to natural, permed and ‘loose curls’ (permed!) hair. Apparently Black hair is very problematic: ‘Dry’ or ‘Itchy’. Fortunately the proceeding leaves offer tons of solutions: Dyes (actually, bleaches) and hair relaxers. The cosmetics company ‘Dark and Lovely’ are celebrating 35th Years (of helping Black people relax?). I suppose that ‘African Pride’ will celebrate such an anniversary soon. The ‘glossing and polishing’ product adjacent to a full-page spread Hollywood’s new happening fat girl promises to control ‘fly-away hair!’ This must, then, truly be ‘nature’s secret to healthy hair!’

‘Breakthroughs in Motherhood’ one ad ominously claimed, against a backdrop of bright, healthy sunshine showering over two light-skinned pre-teen girls smiling at each as if admiring each other’s wavy long hair. After 1950’s disposable diaper, and 1995’s spill-proof cup, this 2007 award winner for ‘worry-free hair manageability’ is ’now available in the Ethnic Hair Care Section’ of my local retailer. To further penetrate the point, before/after sketches of individual hairs claim that ‘tightly curled hair tangles, causing breakage when combed’. Nappy hair cannot be combed, so you’re doing your child a favor when applying this to her delicate hair- as delicate as the sunflower bouquet in the darker girl’s arms.
The message here is that Black is naturally unmanageable, full of worry and darkness. Come into the sun and ‘take the worry out of manageability’. I suspect this slogan passed scores of marketing executives and test groups. These girls look neat and happy- a real breakthrough for the modern mother.
All my favorite Divas have that Soul Glow shine of one shade or another- preferably blond! And if there is one thing that should not be allowed to go down is bleached blond hair one Black person. The ritual is no worse than my fraternity brothers branding one of our ‘sorors’, not our constitutionally bound sisters, but another of the National Pan-Hellenic Council sorority that happened to use the same single Greek letter for shorthand. Indeed, with a common household hanger bent (clumsily so, and while intoxicated, I might add, in order to numb her- or him?) into shape and heated over a stove- Black chicks have the scourge of burning from lye, or worse the hot comb! Many parents wish to thwart the eventual perm for their daughter, a rite of passage which most Black girls face at some point in elementary school. The wise stall the practice, knowing its clear indication of sexual maturity: She is, after all, a woman. Her permed hair signals her availability. Good girls wear hot pressed pig tails till at least the fifth grade. Likely every single one of those branded sorors had suffered that ritualistic fate, only to engage another in college, and likely throughout their lives. They are pressed- hard-pressed hair!

Hidden amongst the plethora of hair charms are ‘deep penetrating’ cleansers, serums and creams to combat a range of ‘discoloration’ problems, though non-addressed self-esteem. Despite marketing tricks to link their products with ‘nature’ and health, straightening is unnatural and unhealthy, and this is fact. Self-esteem suffers, AND that shit just burns!
They should not have to be rich women who compromise everything.

Flip. Bone straight. More than dry skin, cancer, healthy eating habits, ‘relationship drama’, debt and the myriad of other lifestyle issues addressed in this issue, ‘hair’ is clearly their target audiences greatest contention. Including the total hair messes surrounding the horoscopes, Black hair problem solvers dawn over 15 glossies of X pages, two specifically for girls.

The one really chocolate sister in the magazine covers a full-page ad. Naturally her hair is straight, but admittedly she looks like a clown. In order to accentuate her hipness, this dark diva’s eyes are shadowed with turquoise, magenta, and burnt orange , allowing consumers to ‘show off the color that shows up on you’. ‘Aren’t you worth it?’ they tag their ad, as if to declare that indeed, as opposed to the dark lady whose feet we seen on the adjacent page, under a tattered pagne above the headline ‘out of Africa’. Aren’t you glad you made it out?

Gattaca and The Economist

The Filthy Rich Nation Shrinking Population epidemic is sweeping through northern Europe, and the continued demise of Third World Peoples- through debt, disease or demoralization- has been for told in Sci-Fi hits for years, most notably the Andrew Niccol’s 1997 hit Gattaca. Ethan Hawke played (again) the underdog, this time the left over genetic mess playing catch up to his genetically engineered and therefore superior brother, played by the dapper , handsome and witty Jude Law. In Gattaca’s world, the women are pretty, the people are wealthy and almost all are white save for a few random scientists. Ah, the future seems so bright.

As commentary on the role of genetic determinism and Eugenics in the future of genetic research and gene therapy, the film was radically excellent. Once our genetic sequences have been fully decoded, according to Gattaca ‘s logic, society could ‘manipulate’ away illness. Hence, like in Training Day co-starring Denzel Washington, Ethan Hawke’s character gets the audience to sympathize with his inalienable ‘underclass’ status as he triumphs over social inequality and oppression. Phat story and well told.

The July 28th Economist updated readers about fact that, as the magazine presents them, “If a country wants to keep its population up, it should promote IVF.’ This statement stands in bold lettering under an equally bold close up of a Gattaca like, blond haired blue-eyed, fair toddler crawling on well manicured grass against a backdrop of a romanticized antique European building to announce the infant’s class status. The caste is clear: In Gattaca, all ‘valid’ births are through IVF, selectively combining the best of both parent’s genetic contributions. The rest are ‘in-valids’.

For a ‘non-life threatening condition’ In Vitro Fertilization is the final frontier in addressing the shrinking sperm count of the region’s native men, and the heightened age at which native (heterosexual) women tend to conceive. The native population is ‘developed’ and is shrinking. Unlike immigration or foreign adoption from underdeveloped parts of the world, IVF has ‘completely compensated’ for the reducing ‘effect’.

Other pages in the same journal indicate that immigration is unpopular in places worst hit by the Filthy Rich Nation Shrinking Population epidemic. Moreover, wealthy nations are increasingly wealthy, and the most celebrated of ‘multi-kulti’ nation-states, America, even builds fences to ward of the darkies from down south, while keeping many other undesirables locked up. In Denmark, a nation whose native population is fastest in decline, now has a stable population due to IVF technology. In other parts of the world, quite heinous technologies and methods are applied to hinder reproduction, for those populations are purported, in the same news outlets, to be explosive!

‘Inmates (see above) [indicating a large color photo of two dark skin Negro males. The younger one faces the camera, coveting an open notebook while regarding the other; an elderly man sits adjacently wearing standardized eyeglasses while holding a pen over a blank legal pad] even teach each other to read’ Though the Economist will offer lengthy statistics and their analysis, rarely do they analyze why their prison stories always picture (dark skinned) Black male ‘inmates’. Arabs, Africans all get a similar rap in that magazine, either pictured as frail from war and starvation or fat from corruption!

Harry Potter's Litany for Youth Responsibility

Order of the Phoenix is a triumphant display of everyday courage in the face of the continued ubiquitous memory of terrorism and the ensuing spread of socio-political conservatism. Harry, Hermione and Ron’s latest internal and external battles serve as a litany for young people to assert that the personal is the political, and therefore the importance of asserting responsibility!

After rescuing Harry Potter from persecution at the hands of his gluttonous middle class adopted guardians, members of the underground resistance group, the Order of the Phoenix, reminded our young heroine and his cohorts that fear is no sound basis upon which to guide your actions (or socio-political decisions vis-à-vis the bureaucratic, dogmatic and nepotistic Ministry of Magic). “Fear,” according to one wise wizard, “makes people do terrible things.”

Indeed, in response to terrorism, i.e. the return of Voldemort and his henchmen and women, the very same government provided the citizenry of witches with a sense of security through actively promoting conservative family values, charging any dissenters with ‘disloyalty’ (READ: unpatriotic!), thereby feigning collectivism. Then student groups were banned, clearly depriving young people of one major training ground of engaging democracy and rehearse good governance. In both Hogwarts and in real life, that collectivism turned out to be superficial and easily defeated by its own hypocrisy, perhaps, but certainly collapsing in upon itself ultimately because it is grounded in (collective) fear.

Like most of our commercially successful cultural stories, the good guys win and live happily ever after- along with the damsel from the spoils if the battle. By now kids and adults understand that Harry, Hermione and Ron always face obstacles and always vanquish. Yet in Rollins’ 2005 screen episode based on her widely successful bid to just get more people to read, Harry witnessed the murder of a respected comrade, an admired upperclassman who just happened to be the first to pluck Harry’s eventual love interest, Cho Chang. This installment opens again with Harry more easily defeating ghoulish attackers. As in earlier installments, Harry apparently suffers from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), much like modern day youth thrown into battles started well before their time. In America, for example, a generation of such soldiers went horridly untreated- shameless! Yet, in asking readers/viewers to maintain hope, JK Rollins shows us that this too shall pass.

The Order of the Phoenix collectivized individuals based upon their courage to face obstacles. This resistance group was portrayed in stark opposition to ‘the bad guys’ who were visually portrayed by the archetypical effeminate, manicured, poised man-in-black with impeccable hair, the pure bred wizard Lucius Malfoy, like Scar in The Lion King and a plethora of our screen fables. The order also represented Harry greatest lesson- one of the overt take home messages of the film- that cooperation gets results! The ministry and the dark side itself, all relied more upon compliance- Lord Voldemort with murdering people and mind control, and the Ministry of Magic for corporeal punishment and, control of the public mind through propaganda. This cultivated the environment of fear in both spaces, versus the freethinking, socialists imagined clan on the side of our young protagonist, which even included criminal element i.e. Harry’s godfather, Sirius Black, to add to the transgressive appeal. Naturally this character was visually portrayed as an archetypical gypsy, just to hone in the point.

That Damn Delores Umbridge and her dark arts!
This film also resolves one lingering quandary- Hermione and Ron’s attraction to the heretofore virtually ascetic, androgynous even, Harry Potter. The relaxed way in which the portrayal of the trio’s bond, at times flirtatious, at times jealous runs the erotic border barely segregating human emotion. In its film adaptation, the Order of the Phoenix can then be seen as wholly Queer positive in the truest sense: That all forms of sexuality are OK, and that by not shying away from erotic attraction does not endanger plutonic friendship. Quite to the contrary, the bond between Harry, Hermione and Ron never rejected any of these feelings, and were even comforted as seen in this very apex scene where Hermione finally LOL.

Meanwhile Hermione’s deep sense of compassion for Harry’s love interest, the Asian-Irish classmate and fellow Quidditch jock, Cho Chang, as compared to Ron’s ‘emotional depth of a teaspoon’ frankly leaves viewers wondering if Hermione’s pensive concern is based on jealously (after the recruitment meeting for Dumbledore’s Army she noted that Cho Chang could not take her eyes off of Harry) or Hermione’s own attraction to Harry or to Cho Chang? The ambiguity, and apparent acceptance within the world of the film, demonstrates to viewers another type of courage. Interestingly, this scene is crucially used later in the film.

Upon careful advice from a cautious new compassionate comrade, Luna, Harry choose friendship as a means to increase his overall chances of surviving an increasingly inevitable attack prompted by terrorizing visions of the Lord Voldemort attacking Harry’s loved ones. These visions blur the line between good and evil- while in the visions, Harry can even feel the will to act in those murderous ways. We are alike, he’s warned, and the only difference rests in our choices- for we have the ability to choose. But choose what?

Harry chooses to eschew the isolationist approach- a clear comment on our socio-political climate! Flashbacks of the Hermione/Ron/Harry love and friendship scene allowed Harry to resist Voldemort’s attempts at mental colonization, a technique vigorously taught to Harry by another archetypical character, Order of the Phoenix co-founder- Professor Serverus Snape. The classic Goth, as we are shown in Harry’s final lesson, believes so greatly in the cause against evil that he is able to bestow a skill upon the son of his greatest tormentor- Harry deceased dad who was apparently a school bully. This scene reiterates to viewers that Harry is different, more powerful than the rest, exceeding even his parents, because of his ability to choose. Hence in the final showdown between the good side and the bad guys, Harry declares that ‘You [Voldemort] will never know love and friendship and I feel sorry for you’. Voldemort’s weakness, his inability to build coalitions based on courage, but simply a group based on compliance and fear, is overthrown, along with the government. The Prime Minister is asked to resign, all is well at Hogwarts and our trio, now having grown into a collective, lives happily ever after- at least until the next sequel. Voldemort's weakness is Harry’s strength; the only difference between good an evil, both immensely powerful and differently seductive, are the choices we make. To do so in isolation, by usurping the powers granted through democracy and free will, is to choose to loose and leads to real transgression.

“Something worth fighting for.”
As opposed to other superheroes, those granted immense power and. Despite the terrible threats of terror- through the hero’s repeated murderous visions, or the actual return of Voldemort and the ensuing mass death- Harry Potter is comparatively non-violent. Where ‘the dark side’ has lengthy scenes maiming several important characters, including a near morbid plethora of deceased parents in abstentia, our side is often scene defeating evil by a very limp wrist. In fact, the most powerful spell that Harry has to teach his generation of fighters is to imagine the happiest moment ever, the Patronus spell! This spell “conjures an incarnation of the caster's innermost positive feelings, such as joy, hope, or the desire to survive;” indeed, happiness is the most powerful magic.

This most special incantation protect to conjuring witch/wizard through embodying an ethereal animal figure. The concept of waving a wand and asserting “Expecto Patronum,” yet is not. In the film, the spell is used to defend against Dementors, the scary ghoulish creatures that opened this film. Dementors have attacked Harry on the train, and now on the street with his cousin, whom he defends with the Patronus spell. Dementors have hunted young Harry since the first installment- a lifelong threat! And yet to conjure a ‘full-fledged’ Patronus, to defend one’s life against the scariest creature, one who attacks unrelentingly and with great surprise, whose very hooded image evokes great fear, a witch or wizard must fill their entire being with happy thoughts. And frankly, it is deeply patriarchal, reflective of the comfort one is taught to seek, through religion or patrimony, to ‘protect’ us. Oh Father, please protect us.

Magical non-violence
One last message lies beneath the wondrous imagery of the author and filmmakers’ vision of this ultimately non-violent world. The Patronus Charm is positioned in the film as the ultimate ‘weapon’ against the terrorists that Harry has to teach. Yet, in the final battle scene, we all discover that the ability to build coalitions trumps individual happiness. It is as if individual happiness, i.e. meditating one’s individual happiness as a powerful force to defend against sadness and death through, is yet incomplete unless shared. Sharing comes from empowering others, not dominating them as shown by the downfall of both the ‘dark sides’ of the magic world and the government. And even the individual only taps into a portion of their won will to live through ‘Love and friendship’ i.e. not just talking but actual compassion. Harry Potter: Order of the Phoenix is a litany for international relations, if we all intend to survive. For those who’ve seen Spiderman III, you will recognize a very similar moral. (P.S. Harry’s Patronus is a stag!)

Pop Back I: The Pleasure Principle

I was 31 before the lyrics to the 1987 chart-topper Pleasure Principle meant anything to me. When the song debuted, I was already a staunch Janet Jackson fan. I was the first in our class to be able to do the famous head-bop from the song’s video- moving her neck left and right, framing her head with her right hand under the chin then the profile. Though Janet had worn full kneepads for the shoot, showcasing her best moves: In spite of her other videos, here, it was all about the dance. Like Thriller a few years earlier, every kid in any dance school around the country learned sequences from the Jackson’s. By the end of 1987, even drag queens were doing Janet’s now infamous run, jump, balance and leap/landing from a chair. She was neither the queen nor princess, nor dominatrix of pop music. By that time, coupled with Paula Abduls’ choreography, she moved beyond trendsetter to norm establisher in popular culture. Little Ms. Penny from Goodtimes was more than just a starlet shaking her tit-and ass for some coins, but, again true to her heritage, an entertainer. She was so on top of her game that she made anything seem possible.

The Best things in Life are Free

One of my mother’s best friends took me to see the Rhythm Nation 1814 Tour, and it was bad! Naturally I had purchased the tape months earlier, had memorized every word to every song, including the B-sides, as well as every melismatic twist. At that age, my vocal range could match any Jackson’s verse for verse. The rich album notes included lyrics to every song, which is of great importance when confronting head-on topics that the news chooses to ignore like racism, sexism, war, oppression and the legacy we bequeath to our youth. In ‘State of the World’, Janet wrote/performed:

To feed the baby before he starts to cry/No rest, no time to play/15, the mother is a runaway/No time for dreams or goals/Pressure is so strong/Her body she has sold so her child can eat/What is happening to this world we live in/In our home and other lands


Of the myriad of pop artists that talk about sex, few regard the topic from this, frankly popular, perspective. Many artists have simply never gone there.

That rock on your finger’s like a tumor

As a budding dancer, I scoured through every resource that I could find to learn about big band leader Cab Calloway and acrobatic dancers The Nicholas Brothers, all truly wicked entertainers from the Harlem Renaissance who made cameo appearances in the ‘Alright’ video- as a people we pay so little attention to our history. The popularized remix of this hit paired Janet with Heavy D, fashioning the R&B/Hip-Hop duo that all other now follow. Janet so neatly does Black music: Infusing the old with the new in a finely crafted message for the future. So here was a pop artists digging up old bones; her lyrics and image covered much, much more than fanatical love and hardcore sex. Most certainly, she never sang about her wealth, though I suppose growing up on 2300 Jackson Street, one grows accustomed to such riches.

Like Beyoncé, Janet can pay her own fare, she’s an Independent Woman. Yet unlike savoring the ability to ‘buy your own’ eschewing “part-time bliss” for “happiness,” Janet purports: I’m not here to feed your insecurities. I wanted you to love me … My meter’s running I’ve really have to go!” Today’s independent women and girls are simply encouraged to wallow in their own insecurities- the perpetual lust for pleasure in material bliss.