IT’S A WOMAN THANG!
I gotta admit it: I had no intention whatsoever to put together another DOWN FRONT! until the Fall coolness of next month set in. Between now and then I would have more than enough time to think about new items to scribe about; and there would likewise be ample opportunity to eliminate topic selected right up to “press time.” But as we’ll see presently, it just hasn’t worked out quite that way.

On the northeast corner of Slauson and La Brea in (now) 90 degree hot L.A., there is one of perhaps hundreds of local billboards hustling a product. This particular one is worth mentioning if only briefly. The product is the socially acceptable, personal killer or at least maimer, cigarettes...in this instance, Virginia Slims. Secondly, the catchy slogan: “It’s a woman thing.” The obvious appeal (long, sleek, sexy?) cigarette for real or imaginary long, slender and if only vicariously sexy women. That slogan is for certain a take-off on an earlier expression, “It’s a Black thing/thang (followed by the caveat to non-Blacks)...”and you wouldn’t understand.”

Well, for reasons distinctly not related to hustling smokes or anything else other than some thoughts and reflections, I have chosen the above title for this DOWN FRONT! special.

I. Agnes Gonxha Bojaxhiu (aka Mother Teresa) - A quote is best here: “I see God in every human being. When I wash the leper’s wounds, I feel I am nursing the Lord himself. Is it not a beautiful experience?”Sometimes life gives some people a special charge From which they either cannot or will not turn away. It is like a glorious obsession, pushing, driving without let up. It is a rare and, if properly directed, admirable quality. Mother Teresa was one such person. Born of Albania parents, she committed her life to the alleviation of the pain and suffering of the poor of Calcutta and, subsequently, the rest of the world. She touched flesh (shook hands) with the great and the less than great. The pope, presidents, prime ministers and countless folks without title or portfolio. Mother Theresa heart “dripped” with love and concern for those who were (for whatever reason) without. She took the life and message of Jesus to heart and lived without deviation a pattern that was consistent with that belief. If any tribute can be paid to her, it would be that others will carry the loving torch to the countless millions who - despite the unprecedented wealth and prosperity of many - remain in need of care, understanding and...love.

II. Joan Lunden - I am not able to say what actually makes for a good television journalist. Common sense would suggest that one (in that profession) would have intelligence, insight, some modicum of sensitivity, relatively good taste, etc. But success on television means looking good, keeping personal difficulties (i.e., off screen) to a minimum and, most important, achieving and maintaining high ratings. The latter means that advertisers are pleased because lots of potential buyers are watching. And watching means buying. It’s a crazy logic but it is a powerful one nonetheless.

September 5th was Lunden’s last day or rather morning to do ABC’s “Good Morning, America” show. It had all the predictable sappiness and half-felt sentiments. The unexpected guests, the endless tributes, the on again, off again tears, the clips from earlier shows. All that. Joan Lunden said goodbye because the show didn’t have the desired ratings and because she and her husband headed in different directions while she (or maybe it was he) took up with someone else. The public and high level executives can be most unforgiving...despite the appearance of last day on the job accolades. The dust is bitten with a charming smile, but bitten all the same. But with the telegenic affection, she didn’t hug or kiss Spencer Christian. Hmmm.

III. Diana Spencer Windsor - (Note: I am intentionally making these comments before the funeral...which I do not plan to watch.) My earlier comments about the paparazzi hold. They were and will continue to be photographic vultures. But because they are vultures, they not only feed on something but into something as well. In this case it is the universal “peekaboo” inclination of people. There is an almost insatiable need to look into anything and everything that might be considered private.

So what we have here is a latter day extension of the same weirdness that characterized the public machinations of the OJ Simpson episode. The differences are in the details, not the overall impact or effect on the public. Everyone finds good or not so good reason to speculate, accuse, criticize, analyze, weep, get angry. (DOWN FRONT! claims no immunity From that phenomena..)

The athletic Black man and the blonde English princess (was she still technically a “princess”?) share two key features which are briefly explored here. They were both “great” in that they prompted massive outpourings of all expressions that flesh is heir to. That point might well be an arguable one; but I don’t think the next one is: Their “undoing” was an inability to escape the common fate. We all live; we all err; we all die.

Diana (for all her wealth and fame) died the quick, accidental death of the most unspecial in our midst. The word screams out in its (tragic?) familiarity - “a traffic accident” or “a traffic fatality.” Then there is the equally familiar truth that her demise was linked to the blood alcohol level of a (more familiarity) drunk driver. Ironically, much of what has been said about her focused on her “common touch” and that she herself was (what the staid British call) a commoner. But although presumably a princess might - even though in defiance to tradition - come from the common people, she is not supposed to fall to their similar fates. Yet to this extent, life is fair. Ashes and dust come to each one of us.

IV. Venus (In Wonderful Orbit) Williams - There are many things that watching television has caused me to do over the year. Of late, most of that activity has been taking on a pattern of abject avoidance. Sure, there’s lots of good stuff on every now and then; but there is overwhelming junk. The infectious nature of the electronic beast grabbed me long enough to “make” me cry whilst nervously watching (f all things) a tennis match. Young, beaded and hitherto unseeded Venus Williams of - the sports world will have to learn how to say it without smirking - Compton, California was pitted against 11th seeded Rumanian, Irina (“Good night, Irene”) Spirlea.

They had shared a set each and were tied at 5 games each in the 3rd set. During the last game the announcer wisely observed, “This is what you pay for” referring to the down-to-the-wire drama on the final game. And it was a back and forth (literally) toe and finger nail biting spectacle for quite a while. And then Venus made a shot that was not returned and in a fraction of an instant, went into teenage orbit of sheer joy. She was happy, she was pleased, she had triumphed. I hollered and the neighbors probably just blinked at the outburst and went back to their afternoon meanderings. Then I cried. It was that joyful (“prideful”) cry that comes from the unquestioned triumph of the hitherto unappreciated, unrecognized or unloved. From my occasional sport page readings, I had picked up over the month little positive promotion of Venus and her talent. Much had been said about her long legs and rattling beads. But my sense was that none of the athletic pundits saw her rising to the top...like young white tennis players are “destined” to do. Venus...from Compton? You gotta be kidding.

But Venus wasn’t and neither was her father who had pushed her for years to be a champion. His efforts and her persistence showed up loud and clear at the Arthur Ashe Tennis Stadium.

As a final note to cause me to resurrect a few more tears after my initial boo hoo, she said hello to her father (who wasn’t at the match), asked him to say hi to the dogs and gave her endearing fans some of her...you got it...beads!
Indeed it has clearly been a Woman’s Thang these last few days. And there has been ample food for thought and food for life in all of it. For Everybody!!!
~ ~ ~ ~ ~

KNOWING THE HOOD
It’s really hard, if not impossible, to keep up with the infinite slang phrases of Black youngsters. Sometimes I think a handful of them (at various locations around the country) sit down and think stuff up..for no reason than to enjoy the marvels of language, to have a good time and, of course, to baffle everyone who is not in the room. Then they get on the phone and get the word out through a highly secretive national network and then...zappo!

Another pattern is the shortening of words. Like ‘hood being the shortened version of neighborhood. Really digging the dictionary as a wonderful source of understanding and confusion, I took advantage of the wisdom of the youth and looked up “hood.” The American Heritage Dictionary offers this: “a loose pliable covering for the head or neck.” Now that’s not too bad if we are willing to allow ourselves some modest freedom of imagination and understand that the protection of the head just as readily means protection of what’s inside the head. In fact, we are more concerned with protecting the brain from concussion than from getting our heads wet! 20

So the ‘hood (from the perspective of DOWN FRONT!) is the protection of the Black brain from thoughts, beliefs and values which enslave and/or confuse. [We’ll come back to that in a future issue - most likely in an extended discussion of the works of Dr. Molefi Asante.] So, in the best or ideal sense of the word, to be “in the ‘hood” ain’t so bad after all. It is a natural habit of self-preservation. It is so easy for us to latch onto ideas of protecting our homes, our children and other loved ones, our money and - these days especially - protecting our jobs. But somehow it seems unnaturally selfish to think about protecting ourselves (our souls, bodies and minds!). Pity. So, from the rather unusual perspective of your one of your favorites journal of unusual ideas, the ‘hood is all right.

Now one should note that the definition also includes the adjective “pliable.” No, this isn’t a class in high school English, but that word is crucial if we accept the notion of the ‘hood as a good thing. Pliable means “adaptable, acceptable to change.” Well, how about that? In a neat li’l ole nutshell, the ‘hood is changeable and can be wherever we happen to be. Now that might be a hard nut to crack or notion to internalize; but, it really works. Put in more simple terms, wherever a Black person happens to be, others (non-Blacks) are aware that there is a Black person present. Sadly, all too often the Black person doesn’t realize that there is a Black person present! Now, how weird is that? This had nothing to do with prejudice, racism, oppression, self-hatred, etc. It simply means that we are oblivious to our very God-made selves. We don’t have to flag wave or lower the head. We just “have” to go back to the good old days of being confident and being proud. “Others” will recognize that as well. If not, the loss is not ours! So...welcome to the ‘hood!!! [to be continued]

THE CITY
In a direct way, what follows is related to the above. At the time I felt it best to reverse the order. I don’t think it will make that much difference. We’ll see.

For almost 5 years I have been teaching at Antioch University Los Angeles. One prime accomplishment has been the development of a course titled “The City - Myth, Madness and Maturity.” The course has had a theoretical component and an experiential one as well. One the weary students can say of the 2 have been balanced. I am quite certain they can all say they learned something about urban life that they didn’t know or at least think about before.

Two key aspects of “The City” are Spatial Form and Social Processes. Like everything else in life, they can be easily understood with a little imagination. First, Spatial Form. We can look at it as the physical city. More simply put it’s the houses, office buildings, parks, stores, roads, hospitals, schools, etc. Those items which are (for the time being anyway) fixed in place. When we refer to to physical environment, we are referring to the city’s Spatial Form.

But it is people who give urban life its meaning, its vibrancy and, yes, its terror. Buildings and parks don’t commit crimes. It is not, however, the mere existence or presence of people that constitutes Social Processes, however, but their interaction with one another. And we know from our urban experience that the interaction between people is not always congenial. It can readily range from loving to outright hostile with a flavor of indifference somewhere between these extremes.

The two concepts make the city “manageable” by providing a gross understanding (i.e., they provide a model). Further, if properly activated they can also provide meaningful leverage with which to more fully enjoy the life and times of the city. [to be continued] #

#