Rashid

Fraternal Friday: You want to put that hot sauce where?

May 30, 2014 by Rashid

Last week, the Alphas at University of Tennessee were kicked off campus until 2016 for some pretty ill allegations. Here are the receipts for those of you (like me) who ~~need the salacious details~~ like to understand how disciplinary investigations work.

To be honest, I don’t want to talk about what my brothers are accused of specifically. When these stories get out, it becomes all-too-easy to play pile-on with not only the undergrads, but the entire generation.

OMG THEY NEED TO STOP ALL THIS HAZING

OMG THIS WHOLE GENERATION IS KILLING THE FRAT

OMG THEY MAKIN UP NEW SHIT NOW! WE NEEEEEVER DID THAT

OMGWTFBBQ

So here’s the thing…. I will be 35 years old on June 25. I am not a young man. The practice of putting hot sauce on your privates as a stage in the pledge process is not new. I first heard about it as an undergraduate which was over 15 years ago now. There is a name for the practice and there is a reason for the practice. It’s not a mindless thing that somebody made up out of the blue.

It is, however, very reckless and unnecessary for the training of potential members into a fraternity. So if you’re reading this and you’re doing this to your pledges, please stop. And if you’re not, don’t start.

But again, this practice existed fifteen years ago. It bothers me when older fraternity members don’t think critically about how culture works. Just because you didn’t do it doesn’t mean it wasn’t going on. “The Process” has never been one monolithic experience. When it comes to unofficial, underground pledge processes, they vary from totally hands-off pledging experiences which are uplifting and educational, to cruel and meaningless hazing practices and probate show practice.

Most fall somewhere in the middle.

I believe that most undergraduates who participate in underground processes are well-meaning young men and women who yearn for a deep connection to…something. Maybe it’s to the ancestors, or to ideals, or just to a legacy they can be part of. We (collectively) hype fraternity and sorority membership to be a transformative experience. And for decades, “The Process” was the catalyst for the transformation.

But as “The Process” changed and laws against hazing changed, the official intake processes had to change as well, forcing deeper underground the already illegal practices that chapters were engaging in.

Let’s be clear: there has always been an “underground” even when pledging was “above-ground.” Every chapter had its own traditions and practices. Everyone wasn’t putting hot sauce on genitals, but some people were getting peanut butter perms while others were getting shot in the face with water guns.

And men and women endured because the benefits to joining a BGLO are real and tangible, and for many, it was worthwhile socially and professionally.

But that’s really outside my overall point, which is that undergrads are being vilified nationally because they are being caught engaging in practices which are often as old as the chapters themselves. Something about that doesn’t sit right with me.

Maybe it’s because my brothers and sisters haven’t accepted that there is no singular underground process with a syllabus, objectives, standards, and reading list.

When you go underground, that is a local decision. You do it because you want to be transformed. When the mask comes off at the probate show, you want to have earned that new name. I get that.

But I wish they didn’t feel that way. And I wish the chapter members (and alumni) giving them the underground process didn’t feel as though they had to. This is a generational curse that perhaps no amount of revamping of the official process can solve.

I do know that vilifying an entire generation of those who have chosen to be hazed won’t solve anything and won’t mend any rifts between the young and old. It’s going to take a lot of compassion and listening to solve this complex problem.

The Resurgence of DC Black Pride

May 28, 2014 by Rashid

Last weekend, as is every Memorial Day Weekend, was DC Black Pride, sometimes referred to as DC Gay Black Pride by those of us who aren’t ashamed of the word “gay.”

I went to my first Pride in the year 2000. It was epic. I think everyone’s first Pride is epic, no matter how small it becomes. I didn’t attend my next Pride until the year 2004. That year I sat in the lobby at the feet of author Brent Dorian Carpenter as he held court, selling his book and making new friends. It’s because of Brent that I knew I could publish without the aid of an agent or traditional publishing house. The following year, 2005, I participated in Pride as an author and vendor for the first time. Since then, I have attended Pride each year, if even only for a few minutes.

A few years ago, DC Black Pride “fell off.” Not only were the crowds dwindling due to competition from circuit parties and for-profit LGBT-related vacations, it could also be said that Pride itself had not trained the next generation of leaders to take it over from the elders. For me, the last straw was last year, when I was told rather flippantly that there would be no authors forum.

You have to understand, in addition to all the parties that Pride is known for are the more important workshops and “daytime” events, such as the Poetry Slam, the Film Festival, the Author’s Forum. It’s not just vendors… this is an opportunity for authors to directly connect with their readers, get new readers, and inspire other writers – just as I was inspired by Brent.

Perhaps even more importantly is that the people who attend Pride are those who want to be on the forefront of new movements in the black gay community, politically and artistically. If I hadn’t been an avid Pride attendee, I would have never known about black gay films like The Ski Trip and black gay shows like Noah’s Arc.

So it was a heartbreaker that they eliminated the Writer’s Forum.

But this year they brought it back and I was invited! As usual, I had a ball. Wyatt O’Brian Evans did a more than capable job as the moderator. I was joined on the panel by old friends BuddahDesmond and LaToya Hankins and new friends J. Omarr and Tiana Meek (T’Ego). I think it was the right size, diverse mix of opinions, and a good vibe overall. The audience had great questions, too. I was lucky to reconnect with other old friends from my Georgetown days.

I would say that DC Black Pride is definitely alive and well. The audiences, though smaller than they were in the mid-00’s, are growing again. The spirit was back. Nobody seemed defeated or tired or unhappy. The name finally matched the feeling – PRIDE.

I hope this message encourages all of you who had written Pride off to make it your Memorial Day Weekend destination once more. The writers are still writing and we are again being included. Let’s make it even bigger next year, okay?

Fraternal Friday: Will a Transgender aspirant ever be initiated?

May 23, 2014 by Rashid

And you will deal.

When I first thought about this topic for Fraternal Fridays, I thought it was going to be a long, eloquent, passionate defense of the transgender community. I thought I’d be citing all types of articles and real life people who should be members of a fraternity or sorority, but seemingly cannot because they are trans.

But why make a fetishistic statement of this blog entry by peppering it with pictures of trans folks who are hot right now? That’s not the point.

My point is that I am a cisgender fraternity man who will judge a transgender applicant on the same merits as any other applicant. A man is a man and I don’t care to check for the receipts.

Yes, it’s going to be a very hard road for transgender applicants. Transphobia is real out here and there will be many denials before the first yes. But I have faith in the undergraduates of today and tomorrow. It has always been the undergraduate chapters who have been on the leading edge of social justice issues in the Greek community. I don’t expect some old fogey alumni chapter to do the right thing. The undergrads can and the undergrads will.

To my trans folks… it might take a while, and it might not be you, but it will happen. Your bystanders are becoming your allies. We will get there.

Throwback Thursday: Social Probation

May 22, 2014 by Rashid

Que3 — Lampados Pledge Club (Omega Psi Phi) at Wilberforce

In this excerpt from Lazarus, I write about one of the occasions the Beta pledges were on line and had to navigate the campus while on strict social probation. Enjoy.

After having purchased extra white shirts and black slacks for our line brothers, Ed and I stepped off of the bus and paused at the front gates. We were both dressed identically, from shoes to shirts, and even our thick winter coats happened to be black.

“How are you feeling?” Ed whispered.

“Fine,” I said. “Let’s do this.”

Our book bags on our backs, and shopping bags in our hands, we walked side by side through the campus. Our goal was to meet our line brothers in the smaller of our two cafeterias and have lunch together before we split up for class.

As we walked through the diagonal red brick path toward the heart of campus, my heartbeat sped up. Dozens of white kids passed us by, without so much as a second look. It could have been that our stoic faces disturbed them, but it was also highly likely that they did not notice us. We willed ourselves to be invisible so that we would not be forced to ignore our friends.

I noticed that our pace was quicker than it would have been had we not been pledges. Only about a minute had passed, and we were already walking through The Square, the symbolic center of campus as well as the busiest place at midday. We were nearly through The Square when someone called out for Ed.

“Ayo, Ed!” the male voice called. I resisted the urge to turn to Ed, and we walked on.

“Ed!” the man called again. We continued to walk, not daring to break social probation. The sharp voice cut through the winter air like a blade, for as busy as it was, The Square was still relatively quiet. I could sense Ed tensing up, but we walked on.

“Hey Ed, I know you hear me!”

I prayed that whoever was calling Ed would not try to confront him right there in front of everyone. It just would not do to have an argument in the middle of campus on our first real day of pledging.

We stepped up our pace and finally were clear from the center of campus. We only had two more buildings to pass before we reached the cafeteria. There were more people of color walking on this side of campus, but fortunately, we did not know most of them. Several smiled or nodded, which we could handle with a small smirk or nod back.

Every now and then, I touched my collar to make sure my pledge pin was still there. The golden disc with the burgundy letter P was smaller than a dime, and we all were paranoid about losing them since we had to wear them at all times.

We reached the cafeteria and got in the longish line to have our identification cards swiped through the card reader so that we could eat. Ed and I surveyed the dining area and saw Calen and Micah already seated at a square table near the rear of the room. We made eye contact with each other, and they rose to begin getting their food.

Kathy, the middle-aged lady who swiped the cards took one look at me and Ed and knew our story.

“Oh my God!” She quietly exclaimed as she held my card in her hand. “Y’all are pledging, too?”

She smiled as we looked at each other, unsure of what to do.

“Well, babies,” she began. “I know y’all can’t talk to me, but don’t worry about it. You just do your thing. It’ll all be over soon enough.”

We couldn’t help but to smile at Kathy, as she was the first person to really wish us good luck in the process.

“Yeah, babies,” she said as she swiped Ed’s card through the reader. “I seen a lot of young men – and ladies – be on line throughout the years. Y’all will be just fine.”

***

If you liked what you read and want to know what happens next, please purchase Lazarus today!

Support Sand Dunes – a short film about Alaska’s youth of color

May 5, 2014 by Rashid

Many lifetimes ago, I was a site director for an after school program here in DC. While in that role, I met many talented college students who served as my staff. They were after school and summer teachers for urban elementary school youth.

You know, even though I went to Georgetown and fully embrace the snobbery therewith, I think all of the colleges in DC have great students. If you were a student of color in DC you quickly learned that you were part of a a talented coterie of people who were destined to do great things. And when I worked for that program, I felt like an honorary big brother to the next generation of that group.

Tiana Marenah was one of those people. In the years since her graduation from George Washington University, she has received a Master of Fine Arts degree from New York University’s Tisch School of the Arts, specifically Tisch Asia in Singapore! She’s a filmmaker, y’all!

Although she was born in the Gambia, Alaska is her home. Yes, that Alaska, home of snow, moose, Sarah Palin, and Ameriie. (Did you know Ameriie lived in Alaska? I did because that’s the homie.)

meandamerie — Receipts. Me and Ameriie in college.

But Tiana’s mission is to make you understand that snow, moose, and Sarah Palin are not her reality when it comes to Alaska. In the center of it all, Alaska is its people and their stories. Her film Sand Dunes will tell part of that story. I am very proud of Tiana’s successes so far and I am anxious to see the fruits of her labor.

Please visit the Indiegogo campaign page for Sand Dunes. This is going to be a multicultural story which juxtaposes Alaska’s beauty against the realities of its youth. Check it out and please donate! You could be funding a future Academy Award winner!

Only 54 Black-Owned Bookstores left in America and I ran out of ****s to give

April 14, 2014 by Rashid

That title was pretty harsh, right? I’m sorry.

I just read a blog entry from Troy, the founder and webmaster of AALBC. He reports that there are only 54 black-owned bookstores left in America, about half of the amount existing in 2012. There are many reasons cited and I suppose they are fair.

I really should be quite sad that the number of black-owned bookstores in this country is dwindling. But I am not. I am an indie author who knows how to reach my market. I have opted out of the system which requires agents, major publishing houses, and major distributors. In fact, the disappearing black bookstore just might be a symptom of success for the indie black authors who have discovered the companies who do right by us.

I have two quick stories:

When I first published Lazarus (which you should buy there or on Amazon), I got linked up with an African American book distributor. I can’t remember their names, but I remember they were the only black distributor listed in some book I read for aspiring authors. Long story short, I sent them a box of my books and never saw a single dime. That was over $300 dollars of merchandise they just… took. Emails bounced, phone disconnected. It was a classic con and I fell for it, much like many other authors, I’m sure.

So my book never made it to most book stores. Which is fine because Lazarus did very well for a book in limited availability. I knew how and where to market the book and I got a few paid speaking engagements based on its success as well.

All this without traditional bookstores and with Amazon and direct sales through my website.

But aside from the distribution scam, I want to talk about the few independent bookstores I did work with: One gay bookstore and one black bookstore.

Lambda Rising Books in DC (which has since closed) was a great bookstore. A young gay man like me would have never thought so many books had ever been written about the gay experience. And they had a whole section for black gay books as well! They kept Lazarus in stock. They would call me personally when they ran out, to the point where I couldn’t keep up with the demand. I loved them for that. Honestly, I was afraid that the book would just collect dust on their shelves because I wasn’t convinced black gay people were patronizing gay bookstores in large numbers. I was wrong.

There was another bookstore in DC, a chain store actually. You know the name but I will not say it. I wanted so badly to be included in this store. If your book was in this black bookstore, you had really made it. I followed all their procedures to be included to the letter. Sent them a copy of the book. Nothing. No response.

And of course you think to yourself what the hell man, I am black and this is a book, why wouldn’t they carry my book?

I felt bad, but I moved on.

A year or so later, the Federal City Alumnae Chapter of Delta Sigma Theta Sorority, Inc., invited me to participate in their emerging authors event. Nikki Giovanni was the headliner that year and the black bookstore I mentioned was the official vendor. They sold Nikki’s books upstairs, along with other products, and the indie authors were downstairs.

So I got my picture with Nikki and we chit-chatted about my book. So she says “Why aren’t they carrying your book?” and I’m like “I don’t know, I submitted it for their review and didn’t hear back.”

So she basically beckons the owner over to us and says “Excuse me, I understand you’re not carrying this young man’s book?”

And he’s all incredulous like “What you you mean we’re not carrying it?”

And by this point I’m all smug because Nikki Giovanni is literally advocating for my inclusion in this bookstore right in front of me!

So, I guess to avoid a scene, the dude is like “Well all he has to do is send up a book and we will get that process going!”

I say “Yes, I did that, but I will do it again.”

So I thanked Nikki Giovanni and got on with life. I sent the bookstore all the same materials and another book and patiently waited.

No response. Again. They played the hell out of me and lied to Nikki Giovanni.

If you’ve read this far, you might be wondering why I am still holding on to this. It’s because black gay authors have, for years, been treated like shit by straight black bookstore owners, to the point where I don’t even attempt to work with them.

And when I heard that the bookstore in this story closed, I had but one response:

When Lambda Rising closed, of course I was in mourning for weeks, but I ultimately knew that whether one is a fan of black bookstores or gay bookstores, the same books on the shelves are available on Amazon and through the author’s websites. And a very large number are available on e-readers.

Of course, there are some good black bookstores and I support them regularly, including (and especially) Children of the Sun and Sankofa Books, all within a stone’s throw of Howard University in DC, which itself has a very nice bookstore. I will continue to support those places because I make pretty good discoveries there. But I know that I need to remain personally vigilant when it comes to getting book recommendations, paying attention to my Amazon recommendations as well as my friends and family who know my tastes.

The way authors get our books to our readers has changed and is changing. There will always be bookstores, though not in large numbers. And there will always be libraries, where they are in the community, in our homes, or on our devices.

I just can’t get behind the closing of black-owned bookstores as a crisis when it’s not impacting my readers’ ability to find my books.