Little Black Book Fall 2010 by Little Black Book

The Little Black Book ...itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s you

Fall 2010 Volume 10 Issue 1

The Little Black Book Fall 2010 Voulume 10 Issue 1 Executive Editor: Nichole Nelson ‘11 Layout Editor: Marvin Harris ‘12 Photo Editor: Edernst Noncent ‘12 Writers: Anonymous Cameron Browne ‘13 Cortney Charleston ‘12 Briana Henry ‘13 Clarence Moore ‘11 Nichole Nelson ‘11 Mariama Perry ‘11 Victor Scotti ‘13 Contributors: Etan Fraser ‘11 Kaneesha Parsard ‘11 Madia Willis Covergirl: Brittany Harris ‘11 E-mail questions, comments, and submissions to littleblackbook2005@gmail.com. Make sure to check out our blog at pennlbb.wordpress.com

Table of Contents 3...........Invisible Women: Female Rappers’ Place in Hip Hop 4...........Being Angry Isn’t About Being Angry 5...........“On Religion” 7...........Afrochic: Interview with a Fashion Designer 9...........Artist Spotlight: Etan Fraser 13..........Beauty of the Month: Kaneesha Parsard 17..........Feature: CELEBRATING ONE ANOTHER 21..........Poetry Corner

Invisible Women: Female Rappers’ Place in Hip Hop “I’m Nicki Minaj, Nicki Lewinsky, Nicki the Ninja, Nicki the Boss, Nicki the Harajuku Barbie,” recently acclaimed female emcee Nicki Minaj declares proudly at the end of one of her songs, “Itty Bitty Piggy.” Although it is not meant to be taken seriously, this is an interesting comment from Minaj because it seems contradictory that one woman could embody multiple identities within one person. But maybe this isn’t unusual for women in hip hop. Female emcees often have to negotiate multiple spaces of being. Female rappers’ spaces of being often alternate between hyper visibility and invisibility in hip hop. The first space that the most successful female rappers occupy is that of the highly sexualized black woman. Rappers such as the aforementioned Nicki Minaj, as well as veteran emcees like Lil’ Kim and Trina, have garnered fame rapping about their alleged sexual prowess. In the chapter “Hip Hop Demeans Women” from Tricia Rose’s book Hip Hop Wars, Rose discusses this pattern: “…women who have been elevated as mainstream commercial rappers over the past ten years generally follow the larger pattern of hypersexualized, objectified terms reserved for black women in the genre” (123). As one of the most successful female rappers, Lil’ Kim admitted that she uses a character to sell her records (124). Based on her admission and the success of similar female artists, it is not surprising that other female emcees feel pressure to conform to this image. I don’t take issue with these women’s discussion of sex in their lyrics. Like Rose, I am concerned with the sole expression of their identities as women available solely for men’s pleasure. Even when it appears that some of these women such as Lil’ Kim or Minaj have a degree of autonomy over their sexuality, the performance of this sexuality is intended for the male gaze: their outfits often reveal a lot of cleavage or are skin-tight. Given the notion of the hypersexual female rapper, it is highly dubious that a woman could be a successful rapper if she looked like Notorious B.I.G. and decided to perform in turtleneck sweaters.

The second space that most female rappers unfortunately occupy is one of invisibility. The female rappers who choose not to create hypersexualized and objectified versions of themselves frequently do not enjoy career longevity or even mainstream success. The fortunate, successful, less exploitative female emcees like Missy Elliot and Eve still “embody forms of femininity empowered by masculine standards” (124). There are plenty of female emcees like Aeiress Ent. and Ms. Jade who remain on the margins, and their voices are rarely heard. It is truly a shame that most women in hip hop aren’t allowed to exist as three-dimensional human beings who engage in sexual activity and reflect on numerous life experiences instead of existing as one-dimensional sexual figures whose sole purpose is to be available to men. What’s the solution to this problem, if any? The solution isn’t one that solely involves “fixing” something amiss in hip hop culture. Hip hop is no more or less misogynistic than any other form of mass entertainment in American culture. It merely reflects American society’s contradictory perception of its values. Because of this contradiction, the solution is complex. It involves holding all forms of entertainment, including hip hop, to a higher standard when representing women. The solution also involves educating and encouraging both young men and young women to challenge the sexism that they see around them, and not accept it as a cultural norm. Only then will we begin to carve out healthier and more complex existences for female emcees. Nichole Nelson ‘11 Suggested Reading: Tricia Rose’s The Hip Hop Wars

BEING ANGRY ISN’T ABOUT BEING ANGRY I remember the first time I was called an “angry minority.” It came as quite a shock. “Really? Me, angry?” At the time, I had just begun to involve myself in advocacy for intercultural and minority issues. What was this anger thing they were talking about? And who are angry minorities, anyway? As I thought about this idea, I remembered how Audre Lorde described rage. Rather than a transient emotion, or the kind of rage that is described in news headlines as murderous, the rage Lorde described was one that arises out of inequality. It is not an idle frustration, but a driving force—a force that leads those who possess that kind of rage to action. Either way, being called an angry minority means being lumped with some pretty good company. It cannot be all bad—I thought of others who came before me, and whose work is infinitely more significant, whether those people are Malcolm X or Cesar Chavez. I realized that it is not about the stereotype of crazy activists saying crazy things, or poets declaiming oppression and racism. Maybe it was that last realization that led me to acceptance of this identity, however tentatively I received it at first. So, in the end, I am okay with this anger. Despite the irony that it took another person’s offhand comment to put a finger on it, being an angry minority—or, as I tell my friends now, an angry person of color— means being a force for social justice. And that is fine by me. Anonymous

On Religion

God and I have never been BFFs. As a child I always fell asleep in church before being pinched by my grandmother. I would then indignantly rub my sore arm and stare through the sea of large hats adorned with fruits and flowers until the sweaty, robed man told us we could leave. As I grew, my cordial relationship with God remained stagnant. Certainly, I said my bedtime prayers like a good boy, but I never actually spoke to God. In fact, I wasn’t even sure there was anyone with whom to speak. Then I came out at 14, exposing myself to a torrent of abuse in my South Carolina hometown. If I had a nickel for every time I was told, directly or indirectly, that I was going to Hell I could buy a summer home by the lake of burning sulfur. Though the majority of my hecklers weren’t fervent believers, their severe diatribes were frequently informed by their creed. However fervently I felt that religion had turned on me, I could not fully do the same to it. Though I stopped praying, I could never cross the threshold into atheism. I wanted to jettison religion, but I could not abandon God—however tenuous our relationship had been. And so I investigated every religion I could find. I wasn’t necessarily looking for a queer-friendly faith. Instead, I sought a community that understood the turmoil of wanting to stand faithfully before God while being lambasted in that very name.

I found nothing. I gave up. I went to Jordan for a semester abroad in Fall 2009 feeling complacent with my nebulous relationship with the Divine. I left the US hungrily anticipating an epic experience replete with stories of cheap shopping sprees, crazy nights, and new friends. To my absolute chagrin, I instead found an unfavorable exchange rate and underwhelming nightlife. The program housed twenty-something American students, and I was one of three minorities. The other two – both half-white, half-Arab females – clung to one another. I was left alone. Amidst a girl who called her Syrian husband a “dune-coon”, a roommate who defended race-based jokes, and a student who absent-mindedly rebuffed my demands that he not use the “N-word”, I was absolutely alone. And livid. I loathed the other students in my program so fervently that I refused to go on a field trip to avoid being around them. After snapping at several of my classmates to force behavioral changes—a tactic far more successful than the calm talks I attempted previously—I separated myself from the other students. My physical isolation was the visible manifestation of the ostracism they made me feel. Three months into the semester, hatred scorched my being. I hated not just those students, but the white men I had dated at Penn, the clueless peers I had left in the States, and the people I knew who selfaggrandized through work with impoverished minorities in Philadelphia. In a time of abject isolation, hatred made for a constant companion. Every racial bias, homophobic utterance, and microaggressive statement I had ever experienced soaked into my skin, poisoning my bloodstream. One night I lay in bed with ear buds in, intensely ruminating on the world around me. Fury engulfed me such that I struggled to breath. The room suddenly seemed smaller and my skin sizzled. My pillow became moist with sweat and tears. I didn’t know what to do, so I reverted to an old tactic. I prayed. I dropped to my knees and rested my shaking elbows on the bed. I said to God “Save me from my own hatred. Let me forgive those who have wronged me, and grant me patience with those who don’t understand that they’ve done wrong. Strengthen me, so I can deal with hurt and frustration. If you exist, save me from my anger.” Upon my return to the U.S., I discontinued contact with most of the students from my program. I reentered Penn uncertain. Every interaction presented another potential jab at some aspect of my identity. Anxiety accented every new interaction, and harsh reevaluations threatened to mar relationships with old friends. Then I remembered my prayer. I didn’t suddenly embrace every peer who jokingly referenced gays, nor did those who sprinkled good intention across Philadelphia’s projects before labeling themselves heroes perturb me any less. But I did see that the peer didn’t understand what she was saying, nor did the kind-hearted and passionate volunteer realize the scale of the problems that those he helped had to face. I understood that these people, and many others, simply didn’t know. Moreover, they didn’t realize that there was something to know. I understood that I could not allow the offshoots of blameless ignorance to infuriate me. I don’t know if God heard me, or if I simply became more thoughtful. I don’t know if I had a religious experience that day, or if it was just a bad anxiety attack. I only know that I talk to God a little more often than I used to. And if there’s isn’t anyone actually there to listen, then I’ll just keep talking.

Clarence Moore ‘11

A F R I C H I C Interview with Fashion Designer Madia Willis Madia Willis—one of my friends and a fashion designer from the Washington, DC area—has just relocated to Philadelphia. Her clothing line, Biribelle LLC, is a young women’s clothing line that fuses West African fabrics and dyeing techniques with vintage and bohemian style. While the Biribelle woman may have a special connection to the African Diaspora through friends, family, history, study, or travel, the cosmopolitan woman who wears Biribelle is a conscious person who appreciates the beauty and intersection of other cultures in her everyday life. This appreciation is reflected in her tastes in music, food, friends, fun, and especially in her fashion. As Madia says, “Welcome to the ultimate in Africhic!”

LBB: Can you give me a brief bio about yourself—your hometown, ethnicity, education, and why you moved to Philly? MW: Well I was born and raised in the Washington, DC area. I’m Liberian with an undergraduate degree in Political Science from Columbia University. And now, I’m at Drexel pursuing a Master’s Degree in Fashion Design. LBB: So explain the name “Biribelle.” Is there a meaning to it?

MW: Biri means “black” in ancient twi—which is a Ghanaian language—and belle means “beautiful” in French. LBB: How did you decide that you wanted to become a designer? What sparked the interest? Maybe you can talk about the time you spent in Ghana after you graduated from Columbia and how that had any influence on your clothing. MW: Well, while my Liberian heritage and obsession with vintage clothing certainly contribute to Biribelle’s style, Biribelle LLC grew out of my study abroad trip to Ghana in 2003. I spent hours shopping in the market, looking at yards of colorful fabrics and beads. I learned about how these fabrics were made and I also learned the meanings of the adinkra symbols that adorn a vast majority of them [the fabrics and beads]. Armed with American and European fashion magazines and our own sense of style, the designers created an African wardrobe based on modern and vintage styles. The results were overwhelmingly popular back home in New York, Washington, DC, and in Los Angeles. After being asked to do a fashion show our personal wardrobes, we knew we were on to something...and thus, Biribelle was born. LBB: Now I know you didn’t study art or design during your undergraduate years at Columbia. Can you talk about this? MW: Actually, I can. When I was at Columbia I thought I wanted to be a lawyer. I was really, really set on becoming a lawyer. So then I graduated, and spent some time away from school and I really just realized that law really wasn’t for me. I even applied and got into some of the top law schools in the country. I know I disappointed some of my family members but I knew that I needed to do what was right for me. So the moral of the story is to do what you want to do with your life! LBB: Where do you see yourself in the next ten or so years? MW: When I graduate, I want to design for a company for a couple years. Then, I want to own an international design coop selling Biribelle and other designers from around the world. LBB: Have you done anything major with your clothing label since you’ve been in Philadelphia? Do you plan on doing anything major? MW: Well, not quite. I’ve been so busy with school, but hopefully I’ll find the time to do something. Cameron Browne ‘13

Artist Spotlight: Etan Fraser â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;11 LBB talks to College Senior Etan Fraser about his music, influences, and the role that hip-hop plays in his future. By: Nichole Nelson â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;11

LBB: When and how did you get involved with music? EF: I first took the stage at age 12. My father was (and still is, but he has slowed down since his earlier days) a Reggae singer, so I was really birthed into music. I was the youngin’ hustling through the crowd selling CDs at his performances for many years, until one day I, and he, realized that I had more to contribute to his shows than record sales (though, I must say, I was a darn good salesman!). My father introduced me to my first real studio experience in Los Angeles, where he had me feature on two of his singles, “We Were Younger Then” and “Get Up and Jump”, off of his latest album, Alone Tonight. From there, I went on to produce my own records, and the rest is history! LBB: How would you describe the type of music that you create? Does it conform to one genre or many genres? What are some themes that your music covers? EF: If you searched for ETAN in a music store, it would certainly fall under the genre of “Hip-Hop”. However, my music is essentially a snapshot of my thoughts, mind, and experiences. It ranges from political statements, to hyped party music, to deep thoughtful music, and everything else in between. My goal is to only be on the cutting-edge of the industry, so I will often collaborate with artists of traditionally uncomplimentary genres to create an unconventional sound. Everyone is a rapper nowadays, so you really have to do something different to stand out against the grain. That’s what I seek to do with every project I undertake. LBB: Who are your favorite rappers? How have they influenced you? My top 5, in no particular order, would be: DMX, Tupac, Nas, Bone Thugs N’ Harmony, and myself. I would say that the first four have taught the fifth to be true to himself, to work twice as hard as the next man, and to take the feeling that an instrumental evokes and augment it ten fold via relevant lyrical content. LBB: Nas famously said, “Hip Hop is dead”. What are your thoughts on the current state of hip hop? This is always a tough subject to speak on because I respect every artist out there doing his or her thing. However, I understand where Nas is coming from. Going back to the last question where you asked me who my favorite artists were, you will notice that none of them are “new” artists (myself excluded). The reason being is that I feel current Rap music as a whole is all gimmicks and no lyrical ability. It used to be not only cool, but mandatory to have ‘flow’ to survive in the Hip-Hop game, but now it’s mainstream to have a bangin’ beat with nothing remotely interesting to say. Notice that I don’t use “Hip-Hop” and “Rap” interchangeably. I think that’s what Nas is getting at. I don’t believe Hip-Hop is dead…but it has sure been placed on the back burner by corporate industry…but that’s a whole other story… If you want to hear some real Hip-Hop, YouTube: Joel Ortiz “I Am Hip-Hop”. Remember those days? LBB: I certainly do. About 2 years ago, you created the music video “We Need Change,” to encourage young people to vote for Barack Obama in the 2008 Presidential Election. What do you think are Barack’s chances of getting re-elected given the hostility that he faces from Republicans as well as some members of his own party?

EF: To be honest, I haven’t been following the political scene as much as of late. Once Barack became President, I noticed that my eyes were no longer glued to the news like they once were. Come to think of it, it’s probably because I now feel safe knowing that we have an intelligent, capable President. When George Bush was in office, I felt as though every day was a catastrophe waiting to happen. However, I’m not entirely ignorant to what’s buzzing around. I think Obama has a tough road ahead of him. I am a true believer in self-fulfilling prophecies, so I am going to say that he can pull it off—and I do really believe this. Though I disagree with Republicans’ politics, you’ve got to hand it to them…Republicans sure know how to stick to the game plan. And they’re making it mighty hard on the Dems to have a fighting chance. LBB: If you had to create a music video to help with his re-election, what would that video look like? EF: Funny, this question put an image in my mind of my being kidnapped by the Democratic Party and held for ransom until I made another crucial Obama video, ha ha. Naw, but if I did make another, I would stick purely to the facts. I would highlight the good legislation he has passed while in office, and ultimately seek to reignite the now dormant base that got him elected. I would keep the message positive and minimize attacks on skeptics and the opposing party. Though, you do highlight an interesting challenge that underpins your question. At the time I made that first Obama video, Obama was the dark horse (no pun intended). He was “new” and inspired something we called “hope”. There was so much left for imagination and interpretation. That fad has now faded in the reality of his Presidency, so a whole new approach would need to be taken to make a compelling music video (or election campaign, at that). LBB: Recently, you attended the BET Awards. How was the awards ceremony? Did you meet anyone that you would consider a potential mentor or with whom you would want to collaborate in the future? EF: The award show was real cool, but it also required a lot of stamina. As it’s pre-recorded for TV, you literally have to sign a contract that states that you are to sit in your seat the entire show (so that the event appears to be the best thing since sliced bread). It was a novel experience for me so I had a blast, but I could imagine it becoming routine in a heartbeat. The ceremony itself wasn’t the greatest networking environment, but the panels and parties before and after definitely were. I linked up with many industry folks involved in various aspects of the game and I am confident those connections will churn some fruitful results. LBB: What role do you think music plays in your future? EF: I have come to realize that music will always be a part of me. Whether it takes me to the level where I can make music and sustain a relatively lavish lifestyle, or if I can only do it on the side to satisfy that burning desire inside of me, I won’t stop. All I can do is remain humble, keep pumping out fire tracks, and do what I can to make it catch.

LBB: You were abroad in England for your entire junior year. What’s the music scene in England like? Did your time in England influence your music? The music scene in the UK is…interesting. Maybe it’s just because I’m not from there but they’ve got a song called “We Need Some More Girls in Here” and this dance called the “Migraine Skank” that I will just never understand. However, like I said, I am open to collaborating with all types of artists and styles, so don’t be surprised if you hear something Drum & Bass coming out the speakers when you put in the next ETAN CD, which will be dropping sometime in February, 2011.

Beauty of the Month: Kaneesha Parsard

Hometown: Lynbrook, New York Class Year: 2011 Major(s): English, Africana Studies Involvements: Chair, Penn Consortium of Undergraduate Women; Undergraduate Coordinating Research Fellow, Penn Humanities Forum; Ase Academy; Former Political Chair, Umoja; Mellon Mays Undergraduate Fellowship; Women in Leadership Series; Onyx Senior Honor Society; Sphinx Senior Society. LBB catches up with College Senior and Penn Consortium of Undergraduate Women Chair Kaneesha Parsard about her work on campus and pastimes. By: Nichole Nelson, â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;11

LBB: Why did you get involved with the Penn Consortium of Undergraduate Women (PCUW)? KP: Initially, I wasn’t heavily involved because I had a time-consuming work-study job, but I did join Ase Academy during my freshman Spring. At the end of my freshman year, I got an e-mail from my House Dean at the time, highlighting a call for applications for the Women in Leadership Series (WILS)—a group that hosts a lecture series seeking to highlight on and off campus female leadership. I decided to apply, interviewed, and got in. WILS is a constituent group of PCUW and, during my sophomore year, I served as the PCUW representative for WILS. I was exposed to women like PCUW Co-Chairs Brooke [Boyarsky] and Abby [Dosoretz]. I got to help with publicity within my own student group for that year’s keynote speaker, Maya Angelou, and I was so impressed with the hard work involved in planning that I decided to apply to PCUW’s steering committee that April. I also admired their [PCUW’s] attention to political issues, such as the discussion held in anticipation of Akon’s Spring Fling performance. This was before PCUW held democratic elections, so I indicated positions that I was interested in, but also noted that I was interested in any position. At the close of my interview with Brooke and Abby, they asked me “Are you sure that you would be happy with any position?” I said, “Yes.” I was shocked when I was notified that I would be the Vice Chair of University Relations. But, given that I had previously served as UMOJA’s Political Chair, I hoped to encourage political engagement in PCUW. Further, being a woman of African descent, I was also interested in the intersectionality that could result from my presence on the board--I wasn’t seeing as many women of color as I would have liked come in and out of the Women’s Center and become involved in PCUW groups. LBB: You’ve worked hard to expand campus and city resources to combat sexual assault. Why is that important to you? KP: PCUW and I are very committed to expanding resources for assault victims and survivors in the City of Philadelphia, not just on Penn’s campus--some statistics say that as many as 1 in 4 women will be sexually assaulted in her lifetime, and that as many as 40% of African-American women experience “coercive contact of a sexual nature” by age 181 and, in particular, “18.8% of African American women [report] rape in their lifetime.”2 I have also had the privilege of examining violence against women, and issues particular to women of color, in my coursework. For example, films like Aishah Simmons’ “NO! The Rape Documentary” by filmmaker highlights the prevalence of rape and other forms of violence against black women and the unfortunate silencing of these issues that occurs in communities of color. LBB: How would you describe your personal brand of feminism? KP: My personal brand of feminism…first, I should say that I was always a feminist, whether or not I was aware of the term. I think “womanist” describes me even better. The term was coined by Alice Walker, who

wanted to express the sisterhood among women of color, also including the commitment to helping men of color combat racism. She famously unpacked the relationship of these movements in In Search of our Mothers’ Gardens: “A Womanist is to feminist as purple to lavender.” I’m particularly attuned to the ways in which race, gender, sexuality, and class converge and create unique and complex lived experiences. Since coming to Penn, my coursework and my involvement in WILS and PCUW have helped me develop my feminism in theory and practice. I can credit one of my mentors, Dr. Salamishah Tillet, for that growth. Dr. Tillet taught my freshman seminar, African-American Women Writers and Filmmakers, and, in that setting, I examined an array of critical works by black women. I felt a particularly strong connection to Audre Lorde’s thought through Zami: A New Spelling of My Name and Sister Outsider. LBB: You’re the first Black Chair of the Penn Consortium of Undergraduate Women. How would you describe the historical relationship between women of color and the Feminist Movement? KP: I’m not the first black Chair of PCUW. To the best of my knowledge, a black female undergraduate, Jennifer Lane ’05, founded PCUW in November 2003. I think that I touched on the historical relationship a lot in my last question, but suffice it to say, women of color haven’t always found their interests represented well in the feminist movement. Luckily, Third Wave, or contemporary feminism, is concerned with intersectionality. I don’t think that the tension has been overcome, but there have been strides made to center the interests of all women, and recast what we think of as traditionally feminist issues. LBB: How do you think that we can change the image of feminism so that it more accurately reflects the lives of all people, especially minorities’ lives, so that the images associated with feminism are less white-washed, class-privileged, and less heterosexual? KP: As I said before, I think it’s a process, so I think that at least in rhetoric, contemporary feminism is committed to engaging the experiences of all people, including people with non-normative identities. There are also lots of misconceptions about feminism. The most important thing to remember about feminism is that it’s not about creating an oppositional identity; it’s not about hating men. Particularly for women of color, it’s important to create bonds with other women and unite with black men in endeavors against racism. It’s also important for women to think of all women as sisters. That can be as easy to do as reaching out to someone who may not be in your social circle, or you can take part in the myriad of opportunities to help women in the City of Philadelphia affected by domestic violence or who

are otherwise in need. LBB: You’re a double major in English and Africana Studies. What course have you enjoyed the most and why? Deborah Thomas’s graduate seminar “Race, Nation, Empire” allowed me to take an interdisciplinary approach to my research. LBB: What do you like to do in your spare time? I have a not-so-guilty pleasure: Gossip Girl. I read the books in high school and I was thrilled when the show was announced before my freshman year here. I watch every Monday night, it doesn’t matter what work is due the next day! Philadelphia is wonderful and there are great cultural opportunities here. I really love going downtown, especially to South Street. I also love looking for sales. Also, I’m Jamaican and, naturally, I love West Indian food. So, I frequent Caribbean Delight on South Street and Brown Sugar on 52nd Street. There are also a lot of independent bookstores—I discovered Wooden Shoe Books in the spring, which has very diverse titles. When I have the time, I like to see films at the Ritz Theaters. I’ve been taking French since last year, and I especially like to take advantage of the French movies featured there for practice and for fun. LBB: Tell me something interesting that most people may not know about you. KP: This is the classic fact I use for “Two Truths and a Lie”: I wasn’t born with wisdom teeth so there was nothing there to be removed. I also danced and played the flute and violin for over ten years each. Unfortunately, I’m busy here at Penn and I’ve had to put those things aside, but I hope to take up those activities again in grad school because they’ve brought me a lot of joy. --------1 National Black Women’s Health Project, http://www.ocadsv.com/OCADSV_ WhatYouShouldKnow_CommunitiesOfColor.asp 2 National Violence against Women Survey, http://womenofcolornetwork.org/ docs/factsheets/fs_sexual-violence.pdf

What do you love about

Black Women at Penn?

Fireflies I remember those late summer nights when I used to catch fireflies. Mom would give me the jars from our cool banana pudding desserts â&#x20AC;&#x201C; As I opened the jar, the smell of bananas, vanilla, and wafers arrogated the air. And, as orange, pink, purple, and yellow illuminated the sky, I ran around the backyard, catching each glimmer of neon light. Soon I had a myriad of neon green and yellow lights in my little brown hands. Never before had I held colors so bright - colors of opportunity. Achievement was tangible. I would then let those fireflies loose And watch the parade of color escape my little innocent hands Amazed and bewildered at the majesty of their beauty They inspired me & they guided me. Thank you, fireflies. Victor Scotti, â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;13

For You You don’t even know how you got here. It seems as though, the moon was full, you opened you eyes, and just were.

Poetry by Briana Henry ‘13 Speechless There’s enough love in this heart, to string words into poetry. But, words fail to explain this love. I never believed in math anyway. To me one plus one is still infinity.

Knowing only to place one foot in front of the other, in time with distant drums. In one perpetual motion you find yourself, growing older with the sun. Life only gives you death. You supplement the rest. The mistake, recovery, and evolution come from your own hands. When time moves on, where will I find you? Tucked under six layers of Earth’s blanket statements? I hope to find you, deeper, in the meaning.

SHE’S POSITIVE I know of her A moving picture Pandemic in Polaroid… A little girl with an imaginative mind stuck open like faulty shutters Her mother is the wrinkled wallet-sized photo in Grandma’s purse Creased down the center of an antique heart unfolding broken as love It’s a piecemealed picture of chafed landscape colors and lucent cheeks Passing over into the blackened obscurity of a bedroom like a ghost Where headboards and tombstones are interchangeable and nothing Has creaked the floorboards like out-of-tune piano keys, everything Is silent as the words of her eulogy sitting in the hands of a blind man But what she left behind was a face that can’t recall where she’s seen Herself before, because human flesh is not supposed to be a mirror Her nervous Grandmother hides that photograph and hushes her heart Like hospital blankets delivered to terminal patients after visiting hours Hurting because no young girl can understand she’s merely a skeleton That hasn’t yet realized there are cemeteries curdling inside her veins And that soon she’ll need to start swallowing pills as white as stars Shining in summer sky while her Grandmother wishes the three initialed Hoodlums tattooed to her T-cells don’t tag her entire body with graffiti Cleansed only by Time that moves out tenants rather than wash the bricks

It pained me to view the photo documentary published in her cheerful eyes The calculation in doctoring the knees she scrapped on the blacktop Or finger cuts on the swing set chains, I’m sorry she can’t travel Anywhere without bringing a war amongst the neighborhood kids Not knowing fate and dreams march to drummer boy heartbeats In her chest, rifles loaded while the red ribbons knotting hair into Pigtails flap free during joyous twirls and spins like battle flags Because I know her story I can hear the gloom of Africa in her voice And though I know neither well, there’s enough empathy in my soul To understand transfusions of sorrow can be lifted across ocean waters Blacks, be we in Motherland villages or concrete jungles Seem to be sharing the same venomous blood leaking sex Into our graveyard plots so we sleep with mistakes for eternity But this darling was born a victim, who will never have the chance To crack her chastity because what ever came of it could kill affection Quickly our slowly, it’s a variable she may never see in math class But at this moment… She’s a pre-school camera flash in dim-basement prospects of a future Walking around in her worn sneakers and Disney Princess backpack Waving to strangers on her way home with Grandma from school Who are a little frightened by the kindness of her acknowledgement As the nests of Cockatoos lay across her fragile, branchlike jawbones So when she smiles the whistles of songbirds playfully tickle the keyboard In her mouth and music resounds in her profile as if she was a Harlem night Eyes lighting like Apollo signs during a renaissance she could not believe Existed because now the 1920s heaven has dilapidated into a dreary hell And if she could be born again I pray She doesn’t develop as the negative image Left behind from film rolls in her mother’s womb Because she’s positive without ever choosing to be Cortney Charleston ‘12

Albert M. GreenďŹ eld Intercultural Center proudly supports

Little Black Book The Albert M. GreenďŹ eld Intercultural Center was established in 1984 and welcomes all students interested in fostering intercultural understanding on campus Programming includes: -United Minorities Council -Alliance and Understanding (a spring break trip to the South to learn about Civil Rights) -PACE/TPACE (classes about cultural awareness) -The Franklin Community (a service learning residential program) -Race Dialog Project 3708 Chestnut Street Philadelphia, PA 19104 Phone: 215-898-3357 Fax: 215-573-2597 Email: gic@dolphin.upenn.edu www.vpul.upenn.edu/gic

The Little Black Book Would Like to Thank