dara t. mathis

The Sweetest Thing You Missed about Beyonce’s Grammy Performance

The most touching thing about Jay and Bey at the Grammys:
an impromptu prose poem

Wasn’t her leaning into him while he rapped.
Wasn’t the grin on his face watching her strut.
Wasn’t the grip of his hands on her fatty.
Wasn’t the hug and kiss they shared.
Wasn’t even the surfborting they pantomimed
(Bey better than Jay).

It was the tiniest, non-sexual clasp of their hands
as Beyonce stepped down platforms in undoubtedly 6-inch+ heels.
He helped her down the stairs;
simple, but the gesture moved me.

It was the way she held her hand up and he grasped it
without looking, as if he is used to catching her
before she’s even in danger of falling.
Effortlessly. Lovingly.

This is what it means to be drunk in love,
that you are ready to catch your spouse’s hiccups
without much fanfare. Because love is a sobering state
that you must be at least a little romantically inebriated
to live in forever.

Read my take on why the Grammys don’t matter at Truly Tafakari.

Justin Bieber, Trayvon Martin, and the Racial Implications of Being a “Just a Kid”

Justin Bieber is “just a kid,” but are his African-American peers?

Early yesterday morning, pop star Justin Bieber was arrested for driving under the influence. After swerving recklessly around the world for the past few months, the 19-year-old finally did what the public expected him to do: crash.

When child stars “go bad,” a certain class of apologist emerges, explaining away the stars’ actions as the folly of youth. Bieber is no different. He is just a kid, sympathetic voices cluck.

My mother used to say to me, with all seriousness, “Teenagers are stupid.” This never failed to wound my adolescent spirit, but I didn’t realize then that her degree in Biology gave her the scientific basis for her statement. The prefrontal cortex in humans, the part of the brain that regulates maturity, does not fully develop until age 25. That means, as in Bieber’s case, we do expect a measure of immaturity from young adults at age 18 or 19. So, we say they’re “just kids being kids.”

It is both explanation and excuse. Still, our selective use of that phrase makes me think deeply about whom we give passes to in this country.

When I saw Bieber’s grinning mug(shot) yesterday and read about how he’s “just a kid,” I thought immediately of Trayvon Martin. Why didn’t America consider Trayvon Martin just a kid? Why doesn’t America see black boys as children, but as criminals?

Holler if You Hear Me: Facing the Stigma of My Invisible Disability

I have poor eyesight, poor hearing, weak joints, I’m short, and I’m still sicker than your average. In a good way.

I have never shared this online before this week–mostly because I never saw a need to–but I live with permanent hearing loss.

Doctors diagnosed me with hearing loss when I was about 9 years old. I may have said “huh?” too many times for my mother’s liking, and she took me to the doctor to get it checked. I remember sitting in a booth shaped like a tall, narrow box. The audiologist sat me on a black leather stool. He asked me to slip on a pair of headphones that were attached to the wall of the booth by a springy cord. The headphones were like comfy earmuffs, enveloping my ears so I could hear nothing.

The technician would play a sound from outside the booth and I had to raise my hand when I heard it. The world was quiet for a long, long time. Then, a low beep sounded, as if from the end of a long tunnel, finally audible. I waved my hand and smiled, relief washing over me. I wasn’t totally lost.

But I would lose more of my hearing over the years until it became glaringly apparent in every aspect of my life. I play my music loud enough to read bass vibrations as Braille beneath my fingertips. When my husband and I moved in together, he brought to my attention that I would reflexively ask, “What did you say?” after nearly every sentence. I did this because I expected not to hear.

Juicy J and the Problematic Trope of Twerking College Girls

Bill Gates says no to ratchetness, but Juicy J can't. — Bill Gates says no to ratchetness, but Juicy J can’t.

If Three 6 Mafia rapper Juicy J wanted to see some girls twerk for free, all he had to do was visit World Star Hip Hop (WSHH). He had to have known this, since he partnered with the website to publicize a $50,000 scholarship for young Black women.

But this week, news surfaced that Juicy J had, in fact, awarded a scholarship to a 19 year-old college student, also a single mother…who didn’t twerk in her submission video. Apparently, neither the official WSHH video promoting the scholarship nor the actual rules required twerking.

In another clip announcing the winner, the rapper says,”Fifty thousand dollars is a lot of money, and I don’t want to waste it on some chick just twerking her a**. Read the rules! See that’s what you get for shaking your a** and thinking you would get some money. It’s not always about shaking your a**.”

Oh?

Unless You Gon’ Do It: Is Fishing for Gifts Online a Joke?

Despite any hypothetical intention we may have, my friends, one thing is clear: asking for things we want online creates an “Unless You Gon’ Do It” type of situation.

Social media allows us to advertise our desires behind the safety of a computer screen. Personally, it is comforting to share bits and pieces of myself with other people. There is no pressure to fulfill a request when the person asking is not staring you in the face. That’s why, when people do give via sites like IndieGoGo, Kickstarter, or GoFundMe, or, in my case, Facebook, I’m yet surprised at the kindness of strangers touched only by media. I can reasonably expect people to laugh and keep it scrolling.

But what does it mean that we broadcast what we want? Do we really, as I protested, expect no one to answer our implicit or explicit calls? This, too, is complicated. In a word, no; it’s not usual that people take me up on my outlandish requests to bring me Chic Fil A for breakfast at 6 AM. I’m talking out the side of my mouth, out of the depths of my hunger. Because those chicken sandwiches do me so right in the morning…

Read the rest at Truly Tafakari!