I’m not an American. I tend to crack jokes on my southern neighbours, but I must say: I’m extremely proud of them for electing the first Black president — not because he is Black. No, if it were Jesse Jackson or Al Sharpton, the worldwide pride wouldn’t be there. My American brothers and sisters elected the person who was the best person for the job to be done.

Many times during the election campaign I had wanted to comment — but I couldn’t because the emotions were running too high. To comment on ‘terrorist fist jabs’, Marxism and socialist, sexism and racism in the election would have made me an angry, emotional Black woman. Everyone’s emotions were heightened — everything was a personal affront. What people were saying about Obama, they were saying about me because, in some strange way, Obama was an extention of me.

The day of the election — after two years of campaigning — I hoped that the people of the United States would do the right thing and that the Rethugs (hat tip to Jack & Jill Politics) wouldn’t steal the election. I thought it could happen — that Obama could win, but I didn’t want to believe it because I didn’t want to be disappointed if it didn’t happen. Thoughout the day, I was monitoring CNN.com and the Huffington Post to see what was going down. That evening, the husband and I were at two election parties as the results began coming in.

That night, just before 11 pm, when Obama won North Carolina, my mom called my cell. I was at a friend’s house with about eight other people who were just as caught up in the U.S. elections as I was. Mom was nervous — would he win?

“Check the numbers and the states left. He’s going to win California and Hawaii — this is done. Obama has won this–” Then I heard the screams, the tears, the whooping, the praising of God. CNN reported that Barack Obama would be the 44th American President.

African-Americans were crying and letting this accomplishment wash over them, but you know what? So were we. Black people (and people of all different backgrounds too) who weren’t Americans felt such enormous pride and happiness. We as a people — as Black people — felt like this was an accomplishment made by all of us. We all feel the pressure of who were are and our history and how people see us. We always knew we were capable — Obama showed the world that were are capable.

We were vindicated. Black people aren’t just criminals, ne’er-do-wells who can’t (or care not to) look after their responsibilities. We aren’t people who follow mindlessly to the latest fad or fashion. But we can and do lead. We do create and rear wonderful families. We are people who are gainfully employed and add value to our communities. As the NAACP’s Julian Bond said, African-American parents no longer have to lie to their children when they say ‘you can be anything you want.’

I am still a young person… relatively speaking. I never thought that in my lifetime that I would see a Black person become president — but I will.

President Obama, I wish you the best of luck and pray for protection for your wife, Michelle and you two girls, Malia and Sasha. I pray that you do what’s best for your country and as well as what’s best for the issues that involve the U.S. and the rest of the world. I pray for your safety, continued wisdom and that you remain humble, yet strong in your convictions.

January 20 will be a proud day for me — man, I only wish I was in Washington! I’m going to be at work, but my mind will be on the National Mall, at the inauguration, thinking about the possibilities of the next four or eight years.

Yes, you did, Mr. President and prayerfully, it will change the world for good.

Lauryn Hill vs. any chick out there now

Don’t get me wrong, there are some female singers out now that I have respect for like Jazmine Sullivan, Keyshia Cole, Jennifer Hudson and Beyoncé (yeah, I said it. I hate her album, but the girl can sing), but the rest of the girls out there couldn’t hold a stick next to Lauryn Hill. 1998′s The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill was an instant classic. I heard That Thing this week and it bumped like a new single. The only album to come close, in my humble opinion, is Jazmine Sullivan’s Fearless.

 
Ms. Hill (as she wants people to call her now) was beautiful, soulful and versatile. Many of today’s female singers fall flat. They may have good singles (and this includes you too Rihanna! You know I love you girl, but I gotta call it like I see it), but their body of work is lacking in depth. No radio station is going to be playing Single Ladies 10 years from now. Now Umbrella or Disturbia, may get a pass.
 
Ginuwine vs. Lloyd
 
Lloyd. I like him. Girls Around the World was my song in summer ’08, but really, isn’t he a less-attractive version of Ginuwine? Now, the first time I heard Pony in 1996, I loved the song – I didn’t know exactly what he was singing about. But brother could get down and he was cute, what more did a 19-year-old need? Now, Lloyd has the same appeal as Ginuwine: soft hair, mediocre singing talent and great beats. Ginuwine has better moves, besides with Lloyd, we’ve already been there and done that.
 
Aaliyah vs. Ciara
 
Baby Girl came out strong with Back and Forth in 1994. Her sophomore album One in a Million was just that and produced hit after hit after hit. Honestly, I wasn’t a huge Aaliyah fan, but I did appreciate her skills and her dance ability. If I had to put together a compilation of ’90s hits, If Your Girl Only Knew would have to be in it. Unfortunately, she passed away in 2001 before, I think, she reached her full potential.
 
With Aaliyah gone, there left a hole for another high soprano singer who could move. Unfortunately, the ’00s only got half, with Ciara. Ci Ci can dance – we all know that, but the child can’t sing. Not to say that Aaliyah was the best singer out there – that’s definitely not the case, but no one can disagree that her voice was stronger that Ciara’s or Ashanti’s, for that matter. Aaliyah was the double-threat that Beyoncé is fancying herself to be: singer and actress. Who do you think would have been Deena Jones in Dreamgirls if Aaliyah was still alive? She or Beyoncé?
 
Jodeci vs. Pretty Ricky
 
I don’t even think this needs to be explained. Pretty Ricky is the destitute man’s Jodeci – Jodeci (or Silk, for that matter) would have DESTROYED a punk-ass little group like Pretty Ricky.
 
Biggie or Tupac vs. all the crap I’m hearing now
 
No-no-notorious! You know I’m going to see the movie just now! But that’s beside the point. The Notorious B.I.G. and Tupac Shakur were the greatest rappers of the ’90s according to me. Both cut down too soon, they had everyone feeling their music. I don’t know anyone who doesn’t remember the video to One More Chance or can’t rap a couple of verses of California Love. Now, bare ignorance ended the lives of these young men, but not a soul can deny the talent of both these rappers.
 
Today, I’m assaulted by Li’l Wayne – I know! I know! There are plenty of Weezy fans out there, but honestly I hate him. I hate every little, skinny, hungry, dreadlocked bone in his body. He’s turned me off of lollipops. I don’t know how women – women I know with sense – say they find him sexy. Blech. But it’s not only Weezy, but 50 Cent, Yung Berg, Yung Joc, Bow Wow – whoever is the flavour du jour. The only one I can stand is T-Pain… I’m saying Buy U a Drank was a hot song summer ’07, was it not?
 
Let me list off some of favourites singers, groups and rappers from the ’90s I can’t help but mention:

• Shai
• Blackstreet
• Carl Thomas
• Brownstone
• Monica
• LL Cool J
• Mary J. Blige
• Kelly Price
• Brandy
• Boyz II Men
• Souls of Mischief
• Gangstarr
• Fugees
• Monifah
• Keith Murray
• New Edition
• Wu-Tang Clan
• Mint Condition

I know a lot of this pining has to do with nostalgia. Thinking back to when I was just figuring out who I was and what I wanted to do with my life – coming into my own as a young adult. But, something tells me it’s more than that. I’ve been disappointed by a lot of the music of the 2000s. What do you think? ’90s or today?
 
I can’t even get into movies and TV – that would make me lie down on my desk and begin to sob and weep for the ’90s. Heck, I’ll take the USA Network so I can watch another episode of New York Undercover.

I’m in a pretty bad mood. I can’t lie. My head’s hurting, it’s cold out and I’m feeling quite miserable. So when I stumbled across an article in the Toronto Star written by Rita Zekas I had to ask myself a question.

Does this article suck or am I just in a crappy mood?

According to Queen Shellene of All I Survey, it sucks. Zekas, in a shopping series, profiled E! news host Arisa Cox. Interesting, huh? That alone wouldn’t have convinced me to read. The line that did was:

“The first thing you notice about Arisa Cox co-host of E! News Weekend, is her fabulous Chia Pet hair.”

You’re kidding me, right? As a card-carrying member of the Big Bushy Hair Club for Women, I was taken aback. Is this supposed to be complimentary? In the name of all things diverse, what the heck is this about? So I clicked through.

Cox’s response is vapid:

“The hair allows me to do things normal people wouldn’t.”

Normal people? So by virtue of my kinks and curls I’m inherently abnormal? Where, people is the cultural-sensitivity training? So what she’s saying is normal equals straight hair, while curly/kinky/nappy is strange, different or abnormal.

Can my kinky-haired people suck their teeth with me?

But I had to calm myself – I was already surly and miserable on this cold December Monday (it’s not winter yet and already I’m seeing serious wind chills this past weekend. I fear for when the read, true, live Old Man Winter comes on December 21). I kept reading.

The writer goes on to say that Cox has a ‘sexy mama’ vibe – of course she does, what other kind of vibe would a smart, successful broadcaster have? There’s nothing wrong with being sexy, but when all a writer can do is focus in on your sexuality, either the writer is stereotyping you or she’s lazy. But with all that fabulous Chia Pet hair, what else could we expect?

What really took me aback and boiled my blood was this line:

“There is Chinese in her father’s background and British in her mom’s, which accounts for her spectacular looks.”

Pardon me?

I guess all of us run-of-the-mill Black folk are not exotic enough for us to be spectacular on our own. Let me tell you something Rita Zekas, all Black people are mixed with something and that’s not the only thing that is responsible for our spectacular looks. The very implication of that line just floored me – in 2008, to be attractive as a Black person, you gotta be a kinda sorta, not 100% Black person – why does Cox’s supposed beauty have to be linked to the bits and pieces of her parents cultural heritage? It’s like saying a fruit cake is good because of the cherries and prunes, but ignore the raisins, currants, mixed peel and the rum? It’s an ignorant statement – that only her British and Chinese backgrounds make Cox attractive and the rest, well, not so much.

I think this is plainly and simply shoddy writing. During my time as a journalist, I would never have written an article like this because, while it’s a profile of a particular person, who may or may not be annoyed by her depiction, it could be seen as insulting to a group of your readers. It’s lazy writing – it’s not creative, it’s not funny, it’s not insightful. It’s ignorant and it shows that for as much as The Star talks about diversity, they still have a long way to go.

About two months ago, my husband came home from work and asked me if I had ever heard of Twilight. I had vaguely heard about the series of books and seen them displayed at Indigo, but they always looked so bleak and morbid that I never picked one up. I had no clue what the books were about or how insanely popular they were.

Supposedly, all the young women at his office were smitten by Stephenie Meyer’s bestseller. So, on my next trip to the bookstore, I made a stop at the Twilight display. I flipped over one of the books – I believe it was book #1, Twilight (there are four in the saga: Twilight, New Moon, Eclipse, Breaking Dawn) – to read the summary. Pretty much it comes down to this… girl moves to miserable town and is miserable. Girl meets boy – who happens to be deadly creature of the night. Girl doesn’t care and falls madly in love. Mayhem ensues. I put the book down.

Lost Boys, anyone? For y’all young’uns, Lost Boys is the best darned vampire movie made – Bram Stoker’s Dracula is a close second. Flip Bella for Michael and Edward for Star, add a bunch of zany characters including Corey Haim and Corey Feldman and you kinda have Twilight… right?

Not quite.

A few weeks later, I was out for dinner with a friend who told me that Twilight was amazing! A must-read! You can’t put it down! Really? Now, I’m intrigued… how bad can it be if my friend is gushing about the book and how awesome it is. The very next day, I’m at HMV and there is a HUGE Twilight display at the cash… I said to the husband, “these books are intriguing me. But, I don’t want to buy it. Suppose I hate it?”

Well, a got a loaner copy from one of his co-workers (thanks, girl!) and started reading.

The plot is quite simple and very similar to what I laid out above. Our heroine, Bella Swan, moves to Forks, Washington from Phoenix, Arizona to live with her father. A dreary, miserable place the Forks is, but Bella’s mom is on the move with her fiancé who is a minor league baseball player. Bella doesn’t think much of herself, but the boys think she’s hot. She isn’t interested in any of them – except for the exceptionally handsome, pale and brooding Edward Cullen.

Edward, aloof and gorgeous (the number of times the author describes Edward’s beauty in this book was annoying – but it’s written from the perspective of a 17-year-old girl, so I understand) wants nothing to do with Bella, but he is drawn to her.

Soon the two realize they are falling for each other, but there is a catch: Edward is a vampire. Something that Bella finds out and accepts quite easily. Now, I don’t know ‘bout you, but I’ve had many dudes come up with all types of excuses about why they aren’t around or why they didn’t call. So, if a guy said, ‘I’m a vampire,’ would you not side-eye him? I would have to think twice about this fellow and what was going on in his life.

But Bella accepts (!) that he’s a vampire and decides – whatever, you’re hot. Let’s do this.

Really? Could he be that wonderful that the thought of him wanting to suck you dry isn’t unnerving? So, we go on and on about the blossoming love affair. We find out some interesting things about vampires. And it just starts to get long… and boring. Don’t get me wrong, I love a good love story, but this build up was a good 100 pages too long. Where’s the action? Where is the blood? What kind of vampire is Edward? Could Bella have not caught him sucking the life out of something? That would have been interesting.

Snooze. Love you! Snooze. I’ll never let anything happen to you! Snooze. What would my life be like in this rinky dink town without my Nosferatu boyfriend!

Yawn.

When I spoke to my friend again, she said not to despair. It gets better. And thank God, she was right. It did get marginally better when the action picked up.

I finished the book last night and when I was done I still didn’t understand the hype. Meyer has a way with description, I’ll give her that. And obviously, she’s touched a group of readers with her stories. But I just don’t get the Twilight-mania going on. The book is decently written, has a decent plot, but some snooze-fest main characters. Bella needs some more gumption or something; she just seems flighty and foolish. Edward is a bit too brooding for my liking, but I guess if you were born in 1918, you’d be a little stiff too.

The version of Twilight that I read had the first chapter of New Moon at the back. Now, that book starts off with a bit of a bang – I may give the Twilight saga another chance.

My rating: 6 out of 10

Title: Twilight

Author: Stephenie Meyer

Publisher: Little, Brown Young Readers

The day I went to Indigo to buy Khaled Hosseini’s The Kite Runner, I wasn’t sure if I was going to like it. Yes, I had heard the buzz for years, but I had heard the buzz about The Polished Ho as well and I couldn’t get passed page 100. I was a bit skeptical – but I wanted a new book and nothing else in the bookstore was grabbing my attention. So, I picked it up not expecting much and hoping not to be disappointed too badly.

Well, I was proven wrong. So very wrong, guy.

I started reading that afternoon on the GO train and I started picturing life in Afghanistan before the civil war and George W. Bush’s ‘shock and awe’. The story flowed easily – it wasn’t simplistic, just engaging. It opened me up to see world — that I thought had always been about extremism and burqas and lawlessness – that once was filled with beauty and lightheartedness and the simple joys of children.

The central characters are Amir and his servant/friend, Hassan. The two are like batty and bench – you see one, you see the other. But as the book progresses, we see that Amir is jealous of Hassan and Amir begins to constantly belittle his friend. Goodhearted as Hassan is, he takes it in stride, but, I believe, becomes wary of Amir.

But when things go bad, they go horribly bad. One day of kite running irreparably changes the relationship between Amir and Hassan. Life deteriorates with start of the Afghanistan’s brutal civil war, ethnic violence and the rise of the Taliban. Amir and his father move to California, leaving Hassan and his father to deal with the catastrophe which is Afghanistan.

Seems pretty simple, huh? It isn’t. I don’t want to give away the parts of the book that make it such an amazingly tragic story. I will say that Khaled Hosseini put his foot in his debut novel – so much so, I’m scared to read A Thousand Splendid Suns for fear it won’t be as awesome as The Kite Runner. This book is well-written and well thought out. As someone who fancies herself a writer, I wish I could write something as beautiful as this… and that’s a lot for me to say, ‘cause I’m pretty hard on the books that I read.

If you’re already at the edge of the cliff and can’t handle any more bad news, this ain’t the read for you. Back away from the book. But if you want to read something that makes you remember why you love a good story, check it out.

My rating: 9 out of 10

Title: The Kite Runner

Author: Khaled Hosseini

Publisher: Doubleday Canada

Some people are saying that it would be unfair to the athletes who train for X amount of years to compete at an Olympic game. Read the CNN.com article here. In Canada, our Prime Minister, Stephen Harper, said that he would not ask our Olympians to boycott. Read thestar.com article here.

While I understand that — I really do, DON’T talk fairness when there are millions of people being ill-treated by the Chinese government. I’m saying, when people are being tortured and killed and when there is no free press to discuss or report on the lawlessness and brutality of the government, talking about it being unfair for someone to compete in a game is sort of…trivial.

Yes, our Olympians work hard and deserve a chance to run for the gold, but the International Olympic Committee (IOC) made a huge mistake giving the 2008 Olympics to China. I don’t know what they were thinking — didn’t they realize that a bunch of very vocal folks would be pissed off? Or think this was the perfect opportunity to showcase China’s behaviour? 

My fear is when the Olympics start in August and Westerners descend upon Beijing with our grandiose thoughts of free speech and freedom of assembly we’ll have another Tianamen Square situation… but this time with foreign nationals. Really, if China can’t treat its own with respect, why would we think that they’ll treat outspoken foreigners better?

Seeing our governments seem to be frightened of China for various reasons — the U.S. is in debt to them up to their eyeballs and Canada probably doesn’t want to alienate or annoy one of the most powerful global economies — it doesn’t seem like anything except for ‘gentle diplomacy’ (like that has helped. Chupse) or silence will happen.

So, please, the next time you come with an argument for the government not to boycott the 2008 Olympics in Beijing don’t tell me about fairness. If your right to express yourself was taken away and you feared for your life, you would care less about some athlete right to swim, run or jump for a medal.

I don’t like winter.

Yes, I’m Canadian. I was born and raised in Montreal where sometimes winter lasts from October to May. But I can say there is no one thing that I like about winter. I can tolerate snow and nippy temperatures until December 31. After that, I am ready for spring.

I don’t even like winter clothes — you gotta wear too many of them for it actually to be fun.

At the beginning of each winter, I usually look outside as the snow is whipping around and it’s dark at 4 pm and say to myself: will I survive this winter.

Today the mercury reached 18C. Spring is finally here and, praise Jesus, I survived.

So for all of you who have survived another winter in the dark depths of North America, I salute you. Now, onwards to sandals — gotta get my feet done, ’cause anyone who knows me knows that entails some real work — watching the trees bud and bloom, going outside for the first time without wearing 62 layers, seeing the first Humidex reading during the weather report, open toe shoes, Harbourfront and Barbados on the Water, cute summer outfits, hanging out downtown on a hot summer evening, eating gelato or ice cream and cracking jokes, Caribana festivities, my birthday , taking long walks on the boardwalk and dog watching, and — for the first time since I moved out of my parents’ home — barbecues and relaxing in the backyard.

But first, we gotta get through spring.

Enjoy!

My husband and I moved into our new home about five weeks ago and I’m currently unpacking my books. I have a lot of books. So many that my sister-in-law, who was helping us move them, threatened to burn them because climbing three flights of stairs with a box of books is not easy. So, to make use of these books, I’m going to try to do a regular book review. I’m trying to get my own book published, so why not critique the work of my fellow authors?

Hopefully, this blog will be just as popular as the original Urban Sista’s Adventures.