I forget to remember I had breast cancer

I know, that's weird but true. I am approaching 12 years since I was diagnosed. You would think every cancer survivor thinks about it every single day. Maybe most do. But here is the really odd thing about my lack of awareness -- I had a bilateral mastectomy and have no breasts. This means my chest looks like that of a nine year old girl, minus nipples. With that kind of physical evidence, you'd really expect I'd think about it each and every day.

But I'm used to my body now. When I get dressed for work in the morning, I put on my fake boobs and special bra that has pockets to hold them without any more drama or thought then putting on my underwear or socks. I guess that's one of the great things about time going by -- even the odd becomes routine. I stress about my getting jowls more than I do about my lack of breasts and the associated experience with cancer. For real.

Breast cancer has been more on my mind of late because I am part way through reading "The Middle Place," Kelly Corrigan's memoir about her own experience with breast cancer (and other things). The book is just so so in my opinion, but lots of people loved it and it's an easy read so I'll finish it. She was a younger mother with really young kids when her diagnosis came out the blue. I was 40 years old with two school age kids. So there is a common link. Sadly, it's a too common story. Surviving/living with breast cancer is so well documented that I likely won't share my saga with you.

But in thinking back to those very scary days of diagnosis and uncertainty, I did remember something worth sharing. Someone, maybe my therapist, told me to use creative visualization to help me cope and to increase my chances for a good outcome. I'm not sure what she had in mind for visualizations (one I remember her suggesting was visualizing the operating room and everything in it -- the people and the equipment -- as my friends there to help me survive). But my mind is not that literal. Here's where I went in my head:

1. I imagined a bevy of butch dyke warriors on a McCale Navy's era boat, racing through my bloodstream shooting down cancer cells with rifles, cannons, bomb launchers and more. They were stationed all over the boat, sporting tattoos, piercings, muscles -- and they were very hot (as in hotties), and very devoted to saving me.

2. I named my breasts (they were smallish, perky, and average in every way) "Thelma and Louise" prior to going into surgery. I imagined them in the big red (was it red?) convertible driving off the cliff at full speed, a daring and outrageous act of death and survival (meaning my breasts -- I was killing them for my survival).

For the first couple of years, I thought about my cancer obsessively and was terrified about the cancer coming back and me dying. I practically became a vegan, drank no alcohol, and exercised like a fiend. I thought about where I could move that would be less toxic that the middle of a city.

Then at some point I shifted. I decided to relax and to embrace all that I love, and to have fun. To make whatever time I had left good. Like eating really rich food. Drinking a great martini or gin and tonic (or two). Taking risks for love. Appreciating my kids, especially when they were driving me crazy. Playing well with friends. Partying like a rock star. Living a normal, ordinary life.

I must have been so very terrified in the beginning. I realize now that back then I really low-balled my prayers for survival, demanding that I live at least long enough to see my kids into adulthood -- which was only another decade. At about year five post-diagnosis, I revisited that prayer and demanded that I make it well into my 80s.

Good thing.

Transforming the Black Narrative -- from MinnAfrica

This post is very interesting. It is from the excellent blog MinneAfrica, which also has Facebook presence. Highly recommended read!

The New African Americans; Transforming the Black Narrative

I wanna be like Nikki Giovanni when I'm 65

Nikki Giovanni, back in the day and now

Last night I saw Nikki Giovanni at a Talking Volumes event (links to the audio of the event) at the Fitzgerald Theater in St. Paul. I have loved Giovanni for over a quarter of a century. She writes and speaks The Truth. And she's funny as hell.

I became a huge Giovanni fan in my early twenties, which was during the late 70's (yes, that's how long ago a quarter of a century is). My favorite poem back then, "Rituals," from her 1972 collection, My House, is still a favorite today. An excerpt:

..."wedding rituals have always intrigued me
and i'd swear to friends i wouldn't say goddam not even
once no matter what neither would i give a power
sign but would even comb my hair severely
back and put that blue shit under my eyes
i swear i always wanted to be in a wedding."

Last time I saw her perform was in 1989. I know this because I have an autographed copy of her first book of poetry for children, Vacation Time. I asked her to autograph it for my son, then aged five. It took 15 years, however, to get him interested in Giovanni, when I shared All Eyez on U with him, a poem dedicated to Tupac (2Pac) Shakir (the poem is in her award-winning 1997 collection Love Poems). Here's an excerpt:

..."I saw them murder Emmett Till I saw them murder Malcolm X
I saw them murder
Martin Luther King
I witnessed them shooting Rap Brown I saw them beat LeRoi Jones
I saw them fill their jails I see them burning churches
not me
never me
I do not believe this is some sort of mouth action
This is some sort of political action and they picked well
they picked the brightest freshest fruit from the tallest tree
what a beautiful boy
but he will not go away
as Malcolm did not go away
as Emmett Till did not go away..."

Thanks to that one poem, my son and I, 26 years apart in age, are now both Giovanni fans, and she helped deepen our ongoing conversations about rap and hip hop. That's one of the many reasons I love her. She is always fiercely relevant.

The blogger 9 to 5 Poet has a great summary of last night's event, which was a both an interview and some poetry reading. When you read that summary you will learn, if you didn't already know, that Giovanni has a tattoo on her arm that says "Thug Life" in honor of Tupac, who she embraces as a poet for our time. Not a lot of folks who are over 60 -- or over 40 or over 50 -- could pull that off (both the poem and the tattoo) with authenticity, but she does. The high school kids in the audience loved her, and so did the rest of us.

I like to find women who are ten or more years older than me who I can point to and say, "that's how I want to be as I age." Nikki's on my list. Check out Giovanni and some other amazing African American women writing on midlife in Age Ain't Nothing but a Number: Black Women Explore Midlife.

Her most recent poetry collection, Bicycles: Love Poems is just out. An excerpt from one of the poems, "Your Shower:"

I wish Icould be

Your Shower

I would bubble

Your hair

Tickle my way

Down to your lips

Across your shoulders

And over your back...

I wanna be like Nikki Giovanni when I'm 65. I wanna want to be somebody's shower. That sensual. That alive.

Inauguration Roundup

A compilation of links to key events during today's amazing
Inauguration of Barack Obama

• Beautiful and elegant new official web site for the White House/President
• Obama taking the Oath of Office
• Obama Inauguration speech, video and text.
• Aretha Franklin singing My Country Tis of Thee
• Elizabeth Alexander reads inaugural poem "Praise Song for the Day" Video. Text.
• Reverend Joseph Lowery benediction (video)
• Air + Simple Gifts Yo-Yo Ma , Itzhak Perlman , Anthony McGill & Gabriela Montero
  

The many faces of the Obama Family at the Inauguration. They embody the real America, people! An excerpt from the story:

The family that produced Barack and Michelle Obama is black and white and Asian, Christian, Muslim and Jewish. They speak English; Indonesian; French; Cantonese; German; Hebrew; African languages including Swahili, Luo and Igbo; and even a few phrases of Gullah, the Creole dialect of the South Carolina Lowcountry. Very few are wealthy, and some — like Sarah Obama, the stepgrandmother who only recently got electricity and running water in her metal-roofed shack — are quite poor.

The President and Mrs. Obama dancing to "At Last" at the Neighborhood Ball.
I say, "INDEED! AT LAST!"

More from the Neighborhood Ball -- Signed, Sealed, Delivered I'm Yours!

Reverend Lowery tells it like it is in Inaugural Benediction

Our in-home Inaugural watching group roared at the end of this benediction as the Rev. Joseph Lowery took some well known sayings from within the black community, turned them around, and then sent them out to into the world! From the AP:

After the first black president had been sworn in, Rev. Joseph Lowery ended his benediction with a rhyme familiar to black churchgoers:

"We ask you to help us work for that day when black will not be asked to get in back, when brown can stick around..."

There was laughter from the enormous crowd. The 87-year-old civil rights pioneer continued:"When yellow will be mellow, when the red man can get ahead, man; and when white will embrace what is right. That all those who do justice and love mercy say Amen."

The crowd thundered, "Amen!"

AMEN!

Barack Obama Inauguration Playlist

Here is my playlist for the inauguration of our 44th president. What's yours?

1. A Change is Gonna Come -- Sam Cooke
2. Sister Rosa -- The Neville Brothers
3. Up Above My Head (I hear music in the air) -- Ruthie Foster
4. Many Rivers to Cross -- Jimmy Cliff
5. People Everyday -- Arrested Development
6. Happy Birthday -- Stevie Wonder
7. Reconciliation -- Sounds of Blackness
8. Family Affair -- Sly and the Family Stone
9. Peace Sign -- War
10. Salala -- Angelique Kidjo
11. America the Beautiful -- Ray Charles
12. I Shall Be Released -- Nina Simone
13. Still I Rise -- Melky Sedeck
14. Mercy Mercy Me -- Marvin Gaye
15. Butterfly -- Mariah Carey
16. What a Wonderful World -- Louis Armstrong
17. Melodies from Heaven -- Kirk Franklin
18. Ordinary People -- John Legend
19. Three Little Birds -- Bob Marley
20. Say It Loud (I'm Black and I'm Proud) -- James Brown
21. Strength Courage and Wisdon -- India.Arie
22. Strange Fruit -- Billie Holiday
23. Grandma's Hands -- Bill Withers
24. Black Diamonds and Blue Pearls -- Angie Stone
25. Rivers of Babylon -- The Melodians
26. Obama Ubarikewe -- Samba Mapangala
27. A Black Man in the White House -- Sizzla
28. In My Life -- The Beatles
29. Here Comes the Sun -- George Harrison and Paul Simon
30. Overjoyed -- Stevie Wonder
31. Give Up the Funk (Tear the Roof off that Sucker) -- Parliament
32. A Song For Mama -- Boyz II Men
33. Forever Young -- Bob Dylan
34. Stand By Me -- Ben E. King
35. Oh Happy Day -- Etta James
36. Don't Worry Be Happy -- Bobby McFerrin

One week til Inauguration and all things are not equal

Inauguration Day is one week away. I'm taking the day off work to watch, with my spouse and a few close friends. No doubt we will cry. No doubt we will remember forever that moment as history unfolds.

Obama said this on election night: "If there is anyone out there who still doubts that America is a place where all things are possible; who still wonders if the dream of our founders is alive in our time; who still questions the power of our democracy, tonight is your answer."

While the dream is very much alive and a global sense of hope and possibility leaped ahead at warp speed the moment he was elected, all things are not equal -- far from it -- and I'm worried about white people. I'm worried about us as a large foreboding mass of ignorance about race and racial injustice. I'm worried that too many white people who have little or no experience with all things African American will believe that racial equality has been achieved in America because we elected a black man as president.

I'm worried that conservatives will use Obama's presidency as a reason to overturn civil rights laws. It's already begun with an appeal to overturn The Voting Rights Act. And affirmative action? A new study suggests that if affirmative action was to vanish, the result would be a 35 percent drop in the enrollment of students from underrepresented minority groups at the most competitive colleges — but little gain for white students.

The truth is, and we hold these truths to be self evident: Obama's election deepens the fissure between those who are achieving and those who are not. We all may be created equal, but we are far from achieving equality.

It starts early. When my kids were in grade school, I remember heading to their school for yet another visit with the principal because my son had been acting bad again. When I got to school -- an arts magnet in the Minneapolis Public Schools -- and turned into the school office, I saw my son and four other kids lined up on the bench waiting to see the principal. They were all black, all boys.

I had peeked into the auditorium on my way to the office and saw the school orchestra practicing -- about 75% girls and and about 85% white. This is a school that was majority kids of color, and of those kids, majority African American.

Now either you fundamentally believe that black children are somehow less capable than white children or you know something is wrong with that picture.

Something was very wrong with that picture -- a snapshot among many in my life -- and something is very wrong with pictures and statistics about how black people, especially African American men, are faring across the country.

Here are few gleaned from the African American Men Project in Hennepin County a few years back:

• 28 percent of African American males enrolled in the Minneapolis Public Schools graduate in four years
• Young African American men are twice as likely to die and 27 times more likely to go to jail as are young white men
• Forty-four percent of young African American men are arrested each year
• Homicide is the No. 1 cause -- 64 percent -- of all deaths

I am absolutely certain that those stats hold up today, or are worse.

On election day, 95% of African Americans who voted cast their vote for Obama. But did you know that over a million African American men who might have voted could not. Not did not. Could not, because of felony convictions. Could not, even if their time had been served.

This is called disenfranchisement. The Sentencing Project has this to say about the issue: "Nationally, an estimated 5.3 million Americans are denied the right to vote because of laws that prohibit voting by people with felony convictions. This fundamental obstacle to participation in democratic life is exacerbated by racial disparities in the criminal justice system, resulting in an estimated 13% of Black men unable to vote."

Last fall, the organization released a report, "Losing the Vote," that makes stark this problem. A couple of "highlights:"

• 1.4 million African American men are disenfranchised, a rate seven times the national average.
• Given current rates of incarceration, three in ten of the next generation of black men can expect to be disenfranchised at some point in their lifetime. In states that disenfranchise ex-offenders, as many as 40% of black men may permanently lose their right to vote.
• 2.1 million disenfranchised persons are ex-offenders who have completed their sentences.

I could go on, but I won't. For now.

I just want to make sure we are all clear about this self evident truth -- Obama's election is a dream made real 45 years after Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. stood at the Lincoln Memorial and called for a better world for his children, and for ours. It is. But we aren't there yet, not by a long shot. People of color, African Americans in particular, understand this truth explicitly.

But white people.... I'm worried about us. So listen up. Next Tuesday, when Barack Obama becomes the 44th President of the United States, embrace that moment as perhaps the achievement in the fight for racial justice in our lifetime. But more important, embrace that moment as the first next step toward the incredible, difficult work that's left to be done. We must always move forward from wherever we are now, and must never turn back.

Don't shop for glasses alone

I've been waiting to get new glasses for over a year.

It began in Nov. 2007 when our puggle Cookie took my very cute (and expensive) glasses from on top of a table and chewed them up. This was during her reign of terror period, where nothing was safe from her drive to destroy. Puggles are cute, but they are a breeding experiment run afoul. Pug + Beagle = cute = naughty naughty.

Here is a picture of Cookie, and a boot she destroyed:

Here is a picture of my old cute glasses, pre-chewed:

I've worn glasses since I was seven, so that should be your clue that I needed to get new glasses quickly. Forshadowing the disaster of a year that was ahead for me, I decided to get "plain" glasses, something different than my usual choice of funky, full of personality glasses. I chose some affordable, conservative, rimless glasses. Within three months (past the point of return), I hated them. I thought they made me look dull and dorky.

Here is a picture of those nice, but dull glasses:

I buy glasses using my health care flex spending account through work. It's your money, but it's taken out of your paycheck pre-tax dollars. So it's like a loan with no interest, and one that lowers your gross taxable income! It's how I justify spending (and am able to spend) $500 or more on glasses. (It's not just the frames, but the lenses. I am near sighted, far sighted and have astigmatism). The wireless ones were cheaper, but that was still my glasses alottment for the year.

So I've been waiting not patiently for 2009 to use my new flex care dollars and get some new specs! I went to the Uptown area of Minneapolis, a trendy spot chocked full of "eyewear" shops. Full of hope. Needing a pick-me-up.

It was a disaster. Every time I looked in a mirror, instead of seeing glasses, I saw a very middle aged woman, past her prime, not cute, not funky, entering the deteriorating side of age. Sixty frames later, I texted my friend Lynette , "I look old and ragged and horrible. There are no glasses that will be cute on me ever again," and headed for home.

As I was getting in my car, my phone rang. It was Lynette. "Honey where are you, I'm parking. You need help."

We met at eyedeals, an "eyewear" store with very spendy, amazingly fabulous glasses. Lynette sat me down. The very helpful Tyler was at our service. We explained that I was was shaken by my glasses shopping experience and that Lynette had come to rescue me. Next thing I knew Tyler was bringing cute frame after cute frame for me to try. They ALL looked good on me. We had to decide between cute, cuter, and cutest! I was delirious with choice. We gathered all the shoppers in the store -- a threesome of gay men (thank you Minneapolis, for being so fabulously queer) and two random straight (I think) women. We voted on the top four choices. And it was unanimous! I had my new glasses.

Here they are (and they are even cuter and funkier than they are in this picture):

And here is Lynette, who rescued me from myself:

Lessons learned: 1. Never shop for glasses alone. 2. Call Lynette. She'll help.

Update Jan. 31

Lesson 3: Don't be swayed by popular opinion

I got my glasses about a week later. They weren't as great as I remembered -- too thick and boxy. They made me look serious. And the bows were transluscent, casting an orange glow all around my eyes. So I went back and got my second choice, which I picked up today and love. And the truth is, I liked them best the first go around. It was a $90 reminder to trust your gut and don't be swayed by popular opinion.

Ice Skating

Today I went skating on a lake with my good friend M, who had never ice skated before. We started with a chair she could push. She was all wobbly and inching along the ice. But M is adventurous and plucky, so within an hour, we were doing a lap around the rink.

Not a lot of 40-something people would try something new like ice skating. But that's why I love M. She wants to try it all, to do it all. She embraces her age and she's livin'!

My wuzband is a drag king (and queen)

Images:
Tina Turner
Dressed for New Year's Eve
Barry White
Patti LaBelle

Wuzband:
My legally married spouse, a delicious blend of male/female. She calls herself a woman loving woman. Too queer for easy definition.

Drag King:
As a drag king she is simply slipping further into her natural maleness. She wears men's clothes anyway -- kind of an old school hip-hop surfer dude look. And she loves to sport expensive, tailored, kick-ass suits for special events. Barry White is just a step beyond the every day.

Drag Queen:
As a drag queen, she gender bends to her other self, her not as natural femaleness (which is different from her womaness) She works a woman like a man dressed as a woman because in essence that's what she is. Yet not.

Video clip -- Patti LaBelle

Video Clips -- Al Green

Grandma's Nappy Hair

Grandchild, age 3, spent the night last night. When we woke up she looked at my hair and starting laughing hysterically. I said, "What's so funny?" She said, "Oh Grandma you've got really nappy hair!."

I Heart Barack Obama

My best find of the day online was a link to some 1980 era photos of Barack Obama in college. The pictures, which are featured in Time magazine's Person of the Year edition, are amazing. He was one cool dude (still is). Actually, I think he looks completely adorable in those old photos. This is a sure sign I am getting older -- that I can look at photos of a hot, young college kid and think "adorable." Sigh.

My 25 year old son told me not long before the election that I was an Obama groupie. Not true. At all. My excitement about his possible election was just shy of fanaticism, but fell (and falls) well short of groupie status. I think my son was just getting sick of all the articles and photos I kept sending him, and didn't want to read the copy of "Dreams From My Father" I bought for him -- he thought it was boring.

Truth be told, it wasn't just that we actually were maybe going to really elect an African American man as our next president -- it was the biracial thing that put me over the top.

My son was the recipient of much of my unbridled enthusiasm:

"He's biracial, just like you!" (Stating the obvious... )

"He has a white mom, just like you!" (Again...)

"He had identity issues growing up, just like you!" (To which my son said, "Whatever Ma, you trippin'!!")

"Look how he uses his multicultural experiences to his advantage, like I keep telling you to do!" (Ok, I was getting a little passive aggressive)

No wonder he thought I had lost it. We've (meaning all of us who are part of the multiracial family tribe) just never had such a rock star role model success story before. How could I not be a little ga-ga?

Since the election, I've been feeling strangely protective -- even maternal -- about Obama (another sign of aging?). Even while I loved seeing the photos today (it took me about 30 seconds to post them on Facebook), I was mad at Lisa Jack, the photographer, for releasing them. The first thing I thought was, "Did she ask Obama if it was ok? Does he really want the world to see photos of him posing, smoking, acting like he's all that just as he is about to get inaugurated?" I would hate that myself, even if I looked good, like he does.

And, oddly, I am really sad for Obama that he doesn't get to use his Blackberry anymore, and can't send personal emails.* I never cared about what other people sacrificed to be president, but I do now. I want him to still get to walk to the barber like he always did and get his haircut and talk basketball with the guys. Obviously, he knew all this going into running for president, but I just feel bad for him and for his whole family. They are giving up a lot for us.

I'm not quite sure what to make of all these excessive emotions and how personal this is for me, and for so many other folks. I think the planet itself is still reeling, maybe right out of orbit, from the simultaneous release of unabashed joy and excitement from millions of peoples' hearts on election night. For a thousand different reasons the world changed that day.

After surviving years of craziness, we've elected a brilliant, compassionate, utterly sane and thoughtful person to one of the most powerful positions in the world. And he is "family." Imagine that.

* Update Jan. 22. President Obama gets to keep his Blackberry! I really can't imagine a 21st century president locked out of electronic communication. Especially this one.

A video clip from our election-return watching party during Obama's speech in Grant Park. The image is from the TV but listen for our comments in the background: