In 1984, James Baldwin wrote an essay for Essence, “On Being White… And Other Lies”. I urge you to chew on the whole thing again and again and again - because James Baldwin, sigh, what a BRAIN!
Quite convincingly, Baldwin argues the construct of “whiteness” or “being white” was chosen deliberately by European immigrants in order to participate in and benefit from America’s racial hierarchy.* As such, those of us who identify as white are left bereft of any moral authority.
America became white - the people who, as they claim, "settled" the country became white - because of the necessity of denying the Black presence, and justifying the Black subjugation…
“Momma, why do you have big Xs in your book?” Looking up from her morning granola, Bean’s gesticulated with her spoon toward my open calendar book.
“Ah ha, those are my favorite days. Those are the days where I am not allowed to schedule anything.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, if I want time and space to focus and work on my own projects it is really difficult for me to do that if the day is carved into appointments all day long. It is really easy for your mother to fill my day with doings if I didn’t write big Xs in my book.” I flipped back to a week before school started. “See how this week, every day is filled with doings? Party, doctor appointment, friend call, another doctor appointment…”
“But why a big X?”
“That way, I have to think twice before putting something in that day because I know I am sacrificing a day of Corinna creativity… it better be worth it!”
My dearest beloveds,
I have gone back and forth about this missive several times. It is a poem (see below*) and now a whole lot more.
To summarize, on the last full day of our magical vacation I felt so confronted by the situation I self-medicated with two White Russians, an Aperol Spritz, and a Mojito. Not surprisingly, I passed out on the beach after lunch.
What situation? I hear you both ask. You sailed everyday, ate passionfruit and mango, gazed at the ocean while doing yoga, and swung on a trapeze for the first time in your life.
Yes, that is all true, it was truly divine.
AND every morning BIPOC bodies of former European colonies collected cigarette butts, empty champagne glasses, errant volleyballs, straightened beach chairs, and prepared food for 98% White European bodies.
I remember my grandmother telling me when she was young they thought it would be possible for the world to move from a 5 day work week to a 4 day work week.
Turns out, her memory was bang on. John Maynard Keynes wrote the article Economic Possibilities for our Grandchildren in 1930. This is a fascinating article to read for many reasons. Not least of which is his clear eyed assessment of the source of Britain’s wealth and his vision to return to the most “certain principles” of traditional virtue: when “avarice is a vice, and the exaction of usury is a misdemeanour [sic], and the love of money is detestable.”
All of that aside, his main argument was that technological improvements and the accumulation of capital have “solved the economic problem… [mankind’s] traditional purpose.”* Within 100 years, Keynes surmised there could be a 15 hour work week or 3 hours shifts to do the necessary work, to “use the new-found bounty of nature differently from the way in which the rich use it to-day.” Keynes found the current rich avant garde leisure class “very depressing” in their “achievements… in any quarter of the world.”
Ah, sigh.
100 years gone and still depressing.
“Happy New Year!”
“Has it been?”
Too many times this past week
To delve into that which one cannot control
To self-flagellate with ICE
Venezuela
Dearest Beloveds,
Courtesy of cleaning chores Bean does weekly at school she now notices areas where cleaning can happen in our house (hooray the invisible/implicit becoming visible/explicit!). In addition to organizing her own room, the family has received her good energy wiping out crumb filled drawers, polishing copper pots, and sweeping pet hair off stairs.
One recent winter dark Saturday evening, your father and I sat and read on the couch by the fire.
Full of energy post dessert brownies, Bean decided she wanted to polish silver.
Dragon piped up, “I want to polish too!”
“There is plenty for both of you, just put on an apron to protect your clothing.”
Dearest Beloved Children,
We are at the end of 2025 and our world is having a nervous breakdown. There is really no other to describe what is happening.
I don’t need to list the reasons why people are overwhelmed. I want to talk about integrity because it is an integral component in your mother’s toolbox against these winds of accelerated chaos.
Integrity.
Dearest Beloveds,
I almost guarantee this poem is not one you might encounter in your academic career. If not, I salute your teacher. If so, well, you chose to come down and join this family with me as your Momma, so you’re welcome - you get to read it twice. (I can feel the future adolescent eye rolls.)
Courtesy of The Emerald’s June 23 2020 podcast entitled Space Hex: The Curse of Restlessness in Worldviews of Perpetual Escape, I have been exposed to Gil Scott-Heron's "Whitey on the Moon" released in 1970. Here is the full text (and you can hear Scott-Heron performing it below*:
A rat done bit my sister Nell.
With whitey on the moon
Her face and arms began to swell
And whitey's on the moon
I can't pay no doctor bills
But whitey's on the moon
Ten years from now I'll be paying still
While whitey's on the moon
I walked into the bathroom for a reason. And that reason was a good reason. I was organizing my pills in the kitchen, did I come in here for a new bottle of something? Which bottle would that be?
I walk back to the kitchen and delve back into pill sorting, allocating, counting... Oh yes! I need more AlgaeCal Plus* - back I go.
As I walk I say the name of the supplement in my head. AlgaeCal Plus. AlgaeCal Plus. AlgaeCal Plus.
Over the years, solar panels have been installed on every square inch of roof. There is nothing better than plugging in one of the cars and knowing that all of the energy generated goes straight to the ballet commute.
Then it snows.
Covering the panels.
The weather settles into below freezing for many days. Many days.
Snug under their blanket of snow, the panels teased and mocked me.