Duane at Black Informant raises an interesting question: how much of a singer’s appeal comes from their looks? Specifically, he frames the discussion in the terms of a conversation he had with his wife on whether Beyonce would be as popular if she were dark-skinned. He later juxtaposes this with the assertion that many, if not most popular rappers, who are male, are dark-skinned.

It’s interesting, because I had never really thought about it too much, but as I go through the list of popular female singers in my mind, I can’t really think of any dark-dark sisters. Not now, at least. Historically, there’s Chaka Khan, although she didn’t have all that much crossover appeal.

I’m not sure what this signifies. Given that we don’t really control the industry or have our own means of distribution, I don’t know that it’s possible to say that the onus is entirely on us; certainly if crossover appeal is the goal, then darker-skinned sisters would likely have a harder go of it. This is especially true nowadays, when being a singer is more about being The Package than it is about actually being a good singer. At the same time, it’s not exactly like there aren’t and haven’t been skin color issues within the Black community.

I think I need to puzzle over this some more.

Today is gonna be my first attempt at starting a wrestling team at my school. I’m curious about what the turnout will look like; frankly, I’m wondering whether there will be any turnout at all. I’ve heard a few people talking, so I’m hopeful that we’ll get somewhere around 10 kids. What would be nice is if we could get about 20 kids with all 14 weight classes covered. At any rate, in thinking over how I’m going to introduce the sport to them, I’m reminded of another of my key ideological principles: sameness and equality are entirely different.

In a dual meet, where two teams face each other, each wrestler represents a maximum potential of 6 points. That means that mathematically, or in terms of scoring, there is no difference between my best wrestler and my worst. I can’t send my best kid out there 2 or 3 times. In order for us to have success, everybody has to pull his own weight. Everybody is equal. That doesn’t make them the same, however. First of all, the fact is that on a team of 14 kids, there are going to be different skill levels. That means that I could have an undefeated wrestler on the same team as a winless one. That means they’re equal, but they’re not the same. Furthermore, even though each wrestler represents the potential for six team points, the reality is that everybody probably won’t earn six. Again, they are equal in a way, but not at all the same.

Well the same thing applies in a larger social context. The only problem is that because the two concepts are very similar, they have been conflated. One of the keenest examples of that conflation is in the post-Brown push for integration. Now understand, I’m in no way asserting that Brown was a bad decision, or that it wasn’t a worthy goal. It was by all means one of the Supreme Court’s shining moments. However, on the march to equality, I think we got detoured at integration, thinking it was the same thing. Even now, though, you will hear people talking about “schools are as segregated now as they were back when gas was a nickel,” as if integration itself is some descriptive variable in the quality of a school. In fact, I think we’re coming to learn that “separate but equal” is not as bad as we’ve been taught to believe. Separate is fine as long as the equality is there. F’real-f’real, depending on the particular students, in some cases, separate might even be superior, as long as the equality is there.

There are lots of things I hope to teach my kids by coaching wrestling. If in the process of learning to get takedowns and pins, they learn that people don’t have to be identical to be equal, I’ll consider that a win.

I chaperoned a school dance Friday night. I had far more fun than I would have expected. I mean, there were times when I had to pay close attention to see what was going on, and I had to tell a few couples to put some daylight in there, but overall, everything was nice. All that said, I think I had the most fun watching them dance when Crank Dat came on.

Now dig: you will probably never hear a ringing endorsement of Soulja Boy from this corner, so don’t trip. I’m not renouncing my avuncular ways. I’m old-school for real-for real. Even my peers know: to judge by cultural artifacts (pop cultural artifacts, at least) I’m closer to having graduated in 73 than having been born in 73. All that notwithstanding, I can’t hate on these little dances. Seriously. At my high school dances, we did the “running man” and the “roger rabbit.” As far as trendy dances go? I’d call that a draw. Only thing is, I don’t know if I’ve ever seen the roger rabbit in a ballet class like this here…

Crank Dat Ballet Dance

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Phuck U Symphony - Millie Jackson
Collaboration of Mics - Artifacts, f. Lord Jamar & Lord Finesse
Addictive Love - BeBe and CeCe Winans
Running From Love (instrumental) - Marvin Gaye
C.R.E.A.M. - Wu-Tang Clan
Reach For It - George Duke
Because Of Your Love - Debra Killings, f. Fred Hammond
Daytona 500 - Ghostface, f. Raekwon & Cappadonna
Cry, Cry, Cry - James Brown
Sweet Feeling - Candi Staton
Thieves In The Night - Black Star
Dat Dere - Oscar Brown, Jr.
Rock Steady - Aretha Franklin
Stratus - Billy Cobham

There are some things that I’ve written that I just can’t escape. Not saying that they’re just so good, but that they’re so central to my perspective. One of them is this whole question of the so-called American Dream. Lots of people I know deride the concept. Not me, though. Deep down, I honestly believe there’s something to it. But I really don’t feel like I need to come up with something brand new. Especially when I’ve already written stuff that still works perfectly well. To wit, this piece from May of last year.

Okay. Now talkin’ about the American dream, I think there are a few misconceptions. Number on is, as I’m wont to say, the difference between “anybody can,” “everybody can,” and “everybody will.” My personal belief is that the American dream lives at “anybody can.” But even if it’s “everybody can,” that still don’t mean everybody will. The difference is at the individual level.

Now the reason I stick with “anybody can” as opposed to “everybdy can” is this: everybody can’t. Everybody can’t even breathe air. Some people have to carry oxygen. So for the fiftyleventh time, all of anything is nothing. The difference between any- and every- is thatn any is an unknown quantity. Anybody who has a lotto ticket can win. Everybody who has the proper set of numbers will win. Fortunately, the American ream ain’t the lotto.

What’s curious to me is that it’s the native-born Americans who are most down on the possibility of attaining the American dream. Folks who, in my estimation, should know better are steady tellin us what can’t be done and why it’s statistically impossible or improbable or whatever. Capitalism, racism, patriarchy, all that. Meanwhile, immigrants, documented and otherwise STAY coming. Some people are talkin about puttin up a wall to keep em out. What this tells me is that somebody knows somethin somebody else don’t know or refuses to acknowledge. Either the dream skeptics got it right and immigrants keep comin for an illusion, or the immigrants keep comin because the dream is real and the skeptics don’t wanna concede. As usual, i think the truth is somewhere between the poles. In this case, I think the discrepancy lies in the fact that it’s almost impossible to “live American” and achieve the dream.

We’re fortunate in America. There are lots of things that, as a nation, we don’t know too much about. While most countries’ health issues stem from inadequate nutrition, we stay worried about gettin fat. For the most part, we count our working hours by 8, up to 40. Shoot, we even have a minimum wage. Obviously, people can’t live on the minimum wage, but the idea is pretty American. Now, the idea of a living wage is gaining currency. But here’s something to think about: a big part of our way of life is dedicated to the pursuit of leisure. Depending on where you’re coming from or where you’re trying to go, that standard of American life is gonna be antithetical to the achievement of the dream. Both chronological and financial resources get blown on a daily basis. I know I just went to see the X-Men over the weekend. The two matinee tickets were $13.00. Then add on $16.00 worth of grub and that’s $29 and 2 hours gone. Even if I was only making $8/hr for working during that same time, I would have earned $16 during that time.

Personally, I think a big part of being American is the sense of entitlement. I’m really not concerned with who had it first or who has it worse, because I think that we all do, to varying degrees. (For my money, that’s where the fight over affirmative action really comes from. It’s not about battling the evils of racism or some fair-minded fight for justice and equality, it’s about somebody not-getting what they think they should have because they’re used to getting it, or would get it if it wasn’t for that pesky “quota.”) Only thing is, the dream doesn’t exactly work well with entitlement. At least not initially. However, being native-born Americans, we’re used to having certain things. We ain’t about to kill ourselves when so-and-so is getting more for doing less. If HE’S gettin that, I should be gettin at least that, if not more. And so it goes, until for us, it’s not a just a question of getting what we want, but getting it without having to work any harder than is absolutely necessary. That is what it is, but conducive to achieving the dream, it ain’t.

See, here’s my beef: some of my friends see the American dream as saying, “if you work hard, you will succeed.” My reading, meanwhile, is more like, “if you work hard enough, you can succeed.” But even that comes with some caveats. What does success mean? Is it having a lavish lifestyle without having to work anymore? Is it always having a pocket full of money and a schedule full of time? What about owning a home? Is it having a career that you enjoy that takes care of your material needs and some wants? Some items on that list are inherently more achievable than others.

Then there’s that notion of working “hard enough”. How do you know what’s hard enough? You can’t. There’s no independent measurement available. There’s no estimating based on what so-and-so did, and what Aunt Inertia told me and all that. What was hard enough last year might not work this year. Or this year might be twice as easy. There’s no telling.

That, I think, is the most frustrating thing about listening to certain people talk about the American dream. How you gon’ be the first person in your family to go to college, done earned a PhD, and still sittin up there talkin’ about how unrealistic the American dream is? Seriously. Who’s it unrealistic for, the disaffected masses, of which you’re obviously not a part? How you gon’ make records for a living and then sit up there talmbout the dream is “mirages and camouflages more than usually?” Instead of tellin me how bad it is and how much the odds are stacked against me, how bout tellin me how you got where you are? Don’t tell me I’m probably gonna fail, tell me how to succeed - or at least improve. Shooot, me? I don’t even consider myself to have made it yet, because my hardheaded behind keep takin unnecessary detours, but I know I’m pretty close. And I also know that if I can achieve the dream, even partially, then any fool can do it. Shoot, half the fool might get twice the result. I’m a regular person. The results I get are primarily because of the choices I make. If that’s true for me, then it’s true for everybody else, too.

So the people who’ve been here a while know that Masta Ace is one of my favorite emcees. Not to mention that he’s one of the most underrated. Bearing that in mind, there are lots of verses of his that I think could make my favorites list, but this verse from Soda and Soap on his 2004 release, Long Hot Summer, just typifies what I like about him. This is the type of verse that, if I had a unit on poetry this year, would definitely make it into the classroom.

I met this girl named “Fanta,” see, on wall street
From Tahiti, real “Tahitian Treat”
She had a lot of “pep see” honey was peace
And she told me she liked my smile like Shanice
She danced at this club and made the guys holler
And in a “minute made” like a thousand dollars
The club that was run by “Mr. Schweppes“, he had a rep
And everybody watched they step
Cuz word on the street was he was no joke
Had everything from crack, marijuana to “coke”
Later at the club saw this guy named Wayne
Who always bettin’ money on the Giants game
As soon as it’s on yo I stayed away
Cuz he the type who “welches” a bet and won’t pay
I keep tryin’ to tell him be a straight stepper
Somebody gonna “slice” him and send him a “Dr. Pepper”
Went to the bar checked the score
Got the bartender told him what to pour
He put it on my “tab” as he filled my cup
And told me the game was tied “7up”
Around 12 o’clock she came out to dance
Had all the guys pushing just to have a chance
To spend a little money trying to see the rest
She was blessed, in an “orange crushed” velvet dress
But I stayed by the bar cuz I already know how it go
I already saw the show
See I went to a club like this in Toronto
And came back from “Canada dry” with no dough
And ever since then I “see and see” clear
You never find love in this atmosphere
Sometimes you gotta find a better place to be in
Maybe go to a “mountain do” a little skiing
So I finished up my drink and I said goodbye
And got home before the “sun kissed” the sky
No matter where you from or which way you leaning
Now goin’ pop got a whole new meaning