Happy Kwanzaa! Day One: Umoja (Unity)

Today is the first day of Kwanzaa -- the stopgap that happens after Hanukkah and  Christmas, when everyone spent too much, ate too much, stayed out way too long or hung out way too late.  For some it's Boxing Day, which is just another boost that keeps the party going. It's the perfect moment to come together, probably because you're still with family, still on vacation, still away or at least in holiday mode.

I have to pause and reflect, to count my blessings, to say grace and to be grateful and to let my soul be glad, to let go of whatever I shouldn't be holding on to, to hold still and let all this music, all these ideas find their way out of me.  There is family and there are friends who are family and there are those we love and there are those who love us. Every day there is more love. God bless us, everyone.

Enjoy the classic sounds of Queen Latifah's U.N.I.T.Y. -- and for a classic post on the first day of Kwanzaa, click here. 

The Seventh Day of Kwanzaa: Imani

Today's principle: To believe and trust in ourselves, our parents, our teachers, and our leaders, and our ability to overcome adversity while making progress as a people.

I had a conversation with an acquaintance recently about faith. He decided that Christians were weak-minded because of their blind faith in something that wasn't there. After he (a Yankee athiest) mansplained Jesus to me (a Southern Christian), I asked him to explain away the blind faith in his life. Like how he knew he'd wake up the next day in his right mind and in relatively good health -- if he woke up at all. Or how he knew he'd get home in one piece without getting hit by a bus. He believed that he'd get his paycheck at the end of the week -- but how did he know he'd actually get it?  And if he did get it, how did he know it wouldn't bounce? 

Faith isn't just for the religious.  Everyone has faith in something.  Where they put that faith is telling because faith is only as strong as what is grounding it. All too often, so many don't realize how much faith they've put into a thing until that faith is lost.  It takes faith to believe that when you turn on the faucet, the water will be drinkable.  Drinking that water means that you trust the local and regional municipalities that deliver it.  Losing that trust means losing faith in them. It's going to take a lot of faith in the system and the people who deliver the water to my home for me to believe that it's clean if they've spent years poisoning me.

Faith then, is trust -- not knowing for sure what the outcome will be and trusting in the outcome anyway.  Yes, I will wake up healthy tomorrow. Yes, I will get home safely. Yes, I will get my paycheck, yes it will clear.  And yes, my water is clean.

I told the Yankee athiest that according to his logic, he was as weak minded as any Christian. There's an irony in there somewhere. Of course, he didn't catch it.

Imani asks that I have faith not only in myself but in my community, our leaders and our ability to accomplish the impossible in spite of the odds that have always been set against us. Because the truth is, we weren't supposed to make it.  Our survival in America is a testament to our faith in each other and in God. Hundreds of millions of Africans in The Middle Passage, gone. The ones who managed to stay alive faced the relentless brutality of slavery that -- when they weren't maimed, raped, lynched and otherwise dehumanized -- literally worked them to death for hundreds of years. Reconstruction was worse than slavery.

And still, we rise.

The Sixth Day of Kwanzaa: Kuumba

today's principle: to do always as much as we can, in the way that we can, in order to leave our community more beautiful and beneficial than we inherited it.

making our world a better place doesn't necessarily require gobs of cash or anything that money can buy.  sometimes its the little things that matter the most.

i'm a creative thinker and i believe that creativity is an important force in the universe, so this is usually the day that i give Kwanzaa presents. i got caught out there early on, making greens for our extra-special watch night eve dinner but thankfully i managed to pull it off anyway.

i make the best pound cake in the world.  don't believe me? just ask anyone that's ever had a slice. some folks call it scratch cake because you make it from scratch and it's so basic and simple -- eggs, cream, salt, etc -- but it's really remarkably light and delicious.  the recipe is a family secret that has been a part of us for years and is passed down to each female child that is a direct descendant, which kind of makes sense. your daughter in law may not know how to cook but the girl child you raise definitely will.

if you are black, if you know what pound cake is and why it matters and what its supposed to taste like -- and yes, if you are from the south (because we maintain black folk traditions that other regions don't know of or discard for the sake of "progress") -- a slice of this cake instantly transports you to your grandmother's kitchen, your mother's dinner table, your neighbor's house for thanksgiving.  and everyone's pound cake is different. it's like a signature. they are all the same, with those same basic ingredients and somehow, they are radically different, and who knows what that's about.

this is a snapshot of jimmy carbone of jimmy's no. 43 on e. 7th street in new york city and myself, with his kwanzaa present. he's the dopest chef ever. he brought all that ridiculously delicious food to the jazz age lawn party last summer but he's been holding it down in the lower east side since, like, forever.  i became an instant fan when he had a little place called mugsy's chow chow. but that was a long time ago. that was the 90s. (!!!)

i think jimmy likes his kwanzaa present...!

i always feel bad about making scratch cake for kwanzaa because once you eat it its gone.  i wanted to make things that would last. i wanted to knit sweaters. a scarf! something that you could hold onto later. cake doesn't work that way. when i told that to jimmy, he laughed and said, it's not gone yet!

and then he said something interesting.

jimmy said that it's the memory of the cake that's lasting. the memory and how that memory is created. that's what really matters: the conversation, the coming together of so many different folks that you wouldn't think had anything in common, the socializing, the connectedness. it's the moments that happen around the cake, not necessarily the cake itself. and yet, yes -- it's the cake. 

then he waxed poetic for a moment, about how as a kid in massachusetts, his italian parents would bundle him and his siblings up during the holiday season and they'd go visit family and friends and bring lots of food, and what a bonding experience that was, how important that was for all of them.

and then he very sweetly offered a slice of cake to everyone at the bar -- the happy couple next to me, on their way to a phish concert; the guy reading a book and eating alone; the beautiful skinny bespectacled bartender who inhaled hers in one bite and, laughing, dove in for another. and then he gave some to other customers. and we all had that beautiful moment. 

of course, i had to tell jimmy about watch night and freedom eve. he'd never heard of it. not surprisingly, he hadn't heard of the traditional meal that happens afterwards, either.

the next time i see jimmy, i'll bring him some gullah rice. (he's never heard of that, too.)

The Fifth Day of Kwanzaa: Nia

today we focus on nia, which officially means to make our collective vocation the building and developing of our community in order to restore our people to their traditional greatness.  i think it's hard to pull off a collective purpose for the community if we aren't on point individually. my first question to anyone today would be, do you know your purpose in life?  if you don't know, what are you doing to figure it out? if you do know, how are you accomplishing it?

are you living your life on purpose?

The Fourth Day of Kwanzaa: Ujamaa

today's principle: to build our own businesses, control the economics of our own community and share in all our work and wealth.

in other words, buy black. 

once upon a time, we had our own black doctors and dentists and midwives. we ate at our own restaurants, drank in our own bars and juke houses and attended our own churches and schools. we frequented our own businesses and shopped in our own grocery stores. because we weren't allowed to do so anywhere else. well -- legally, we could go anywhere. but if we did go to the white part of town, we were quite literally taking our lives into our own hands. 

in too many instances, prosperous black communities were obliterated by angry whites who resented their industriousness and financial independence and/or who wanted their land and resources.  remember the rosewood massacre of 1923?  an entire prosperous self-sufficient black community in florida, slaughtered on the supposed infallable word of a white woman who cried rape.  and no, that wasn't an isolated incident. for more on the subject, read buried in the bitter waters: the hidden history of ethnic cleansing in america by elliot jaspin.

buying black -- like buying american -- isn't as easy as you might think. the story of one chicago family's effort to buy black is the stuff of what some would like to think of as urban myth. or an impossible dream, maybe. i buy things mindfully.  i want to know where it comes from, what corporate entity is behind it, who's getting my dollar. i'd prefer to empower a black female but hey -- that's just me.

 

The Third Day of Kwanzaa: Ujima

This means "to build and maintain our community together and make our brother's and sister's problems our problems and solve them together." 

My immediate thought turns towards volunteer work within the community but it's much bigger than that.  The African proverb of the village that is required to raise a child holds true here, too. In the same way that the parents aren't the only ones who grow a child into the fullness of adulthood, we help or hinder each other in a myriad of unseen ways that reverberate through our inner selves constantly.

No man is an island. No one does it on their own.  You may have a great idea but it's going to take a lot of people to help you pull it off. Quiet as its kept, it takes a village to live a life.  It certainly takes a village to have a career. 

How could we possibly have made it through The Middle Passage, over 400 years of slavery, the Antebellum South, Reconstruction, Jim Crow, the homegrown terrorism of the KKK and the overall violence, the degradation, the virulent racism (institutionalized and otherwise), the microaggression, the indignity, the almighty insufferable all-consuming flat-out ignorance of much of the American populace has towards us if we did not have each other?

Remember this, loud and clear: we were not supposed to survive any of this. Millions of us were lost as slave traders crossed the Atlantic Ocean. The work was much too hard for anyone else. We were not supposed to make it.

To read the best explanation for Ujima that I've gotten so far, please click here.

The Second Day of Kwanzaa: Kujichagulia

According to Maulana Karenga, the founder of Kwanzaa, self-determination means "to define ourselves, name ourselves, create for ourselves and speak for ourselves."

This definitely isn't a principle that I celebrate once a year. This is my way of life.

If I give a gift on this day, it's usually a blank book. You want to define yourself? Keep a journal. I know, I know -- I'm supposed to make that book. I did consider it a few months ago when I looked at some book binding kits out of curiousity and totally fell in love with the entire process. Somewhere in there, I saw an exhibit at MoMA from a German sculptor whose name escapes me that put together pulpy looking books from magazine ads, newspapers, you name it.  When you leafed through it, it was complete gobble-dee-goop -- which is apparently what he thought was in most periodicals, anyway.

I'll probably end up making a book for myself, just to see if I can do it.

The First Day of Kwanzaa: Umoja

Kwanzaa -- which is a cultural and social observance amongst African-Americans and has nothing to do with Christmas or any religious celebration -- is, in my opinion, a many splendored thing.  It is inclusive, it has principles that are universal and because you can veer away from the hard and fast rules of it all any way you like (and yes, there are rules), it can also be a lot of fun.

Basically, you have to make the gifts that you give. Educational gifts are encouraged. What's important is that you give of yourself.  The upshot of it all is, for those seven hectic days after Christmas when the rest of the world is running around buying more stuff, returning stuff for more stuff or breaking toys they just got, you are gathered together with your family, your friends who are your family and the ones who really matter, and you are focused on other things.

My first day of Kwanzaa was an unstoppable fountain of joy.

Onward and upward.

Winter Bucket List 2013 -- The Harlem Edition (Kwanzaa, Kwanzaa, Kwanzaa!)

Comedy Central

None of the winter bucket lists I see online ever resemble mine. Not that I wouldn't want to go on a carriage ride or make gingerbread houses. That sounds cute but I'm way more likely to be found staying up all night making Kwanzaa presents or sipping my specialty Mexican hot chocolate at a black folk pot luck.

There's no getting away from Christmas once it explodes sometime in the fall (!!!) but the truth is, Kwanzaa has nothing to do with Christmas, it's not religious and it's not an anti-white people holiday alternative. Like a lot of things black folks do, Kwanzaa is something that we do for our selves -- to unite us, to honor our past as African-Americans, our collective history and our ancestors, and to reconnect with our purpose, as individuals and as a community. If white people are down with that and want to participate, hooray. There's always plenty of culture to go around. If not, oh well. It's really not about them.

Kwanzaa is much more fun than Christmas -- and for me, it's very personal. You have to make the gifts you give -- something that stymies a lot of people I know, until they realize that the gift doesn't have to be tangible.  The day you give the gift can infuse it with even more significance. If you're not craftsy, educational gifts are encouraged.  The Kwanzaa gifts I have given are pretty out there, I suppose.  You give what you have. You give who you are. I have been a pretty good wingman, agony aunt and third wheel in times past. I've given a voice lesson and a performance clinic here and there.  Once I even taught a friend how to smother a chicken.  And my pound cakes -- as well as my tomato pies -- are kind of legendary.

There are hard and fast rules but I don't live and die by them. I make them my own. Will you light Kwanzaa beeswax candles? Maybe.  Truth is, my libation ceremony will probably be cocktails with a few sisters at a speakeasy.

Lemmie put it to you this way. Christmas means running around in malls and bouncing around online and buying presents -- and if you run out of ideas or time or patience, Christmas means sending gift cards or cash money. You must send something. Kwanzaa means giving someone something very personal, something that you make with your own hands, something from you that will hopefully resonate with them in some way. You must give of yourself.

Here's a winter bucket list that may look a lot like yours.

1. Get a wreath for your door -- or better yet (in the spirit of Kwanzaa),  make two and give one to a friend. 
2. If you haven't already, it's probably a good idea to start assembling your Kwanzaa presents. (Un)fortunately, (most of) the things I make are edible. This year, I'm getting especially craftsy for a select few. (Finally!)  Otherwise, I'm locked in my kitchen for beef stew (Evan), smothered pork chops (Jane), several quarts of Mexican hot chocolate (you know who you are) and -- of course -- pound cake.
3. Wait until that (Southern) ATL visit and go sit on Black Santa's lap at Greenbriar Mall. You know that's my story.  Black Santa, baby. (More on that here.)
4. You wanna watch a holiday movie? Forget Elf. Watch Bad Santa with a bunch of black folk -- unedited, of course.  You'll laugh so hard, you'll scream.
5. Go to The Apollo Theater's Kwanzaa Celebration: Regeneration Night on Friday, December 27th.
6. Go to American Museum of Natural History's Kwanzaa 2013: 35th Anniversary Celebration on Saturday, December 28th.
7. The dance company Batoto Yetu will celebrate the seven principles of Kwanzaa with movement and festivities at Aaron Davis Hall on Saturday, December 28th.
8. From December 26 - 28, The African Burial Ground has a pretty spectacular Kwanzaa celebration -- the 10th Anniversary Observance of the Rites of Ancestral Return -- that includes short film, visual art, live music and performances that run the gamut from spoken word to The Black Nutcracker. And yes -- all of it is free and open to the public but reservations are required.
9. The Studio Museum in Harlem has Hands On Kwanzaa Celebration -- art making activities and an interactive performance program for kids -- on Target Free Sunday, December 29th.
10. Skip the Bridge and Tunnel crowd, the tourists and the rest of the amateurs and celebrate New Year's Eve Eve instead of New Year's Eve.  (That way, you can enjoy First Night and still have fun with revelers. More on that here.) You can catch me and my jazz quintet The Hot Five at The Player's Club in Grammercy Park on Monday, December 30th for The Salon's annual fete and December 31st for The Player's Club and their New Year's Eve gala.

kwanzaa is STILL here!

at least, it is for me.

yeah, that's right. believe it or not, i'm still working on a few special kwanzaa presents. the truth is, i decided to get craftsy this year, instead of cooking or baking - although i did promise jane a platter of thick cut smothered pork chops. (i swear, i think she'd do just about anything for pigmeat. and that probably includes chitlins. or should i say chitterlings?) and of course, i have to make a pound cake for my girl at barrio chino.

what i'm making is kind of top secret and it has to be assembled just so, with digital photos and photoshop and rhinestones. and chemicals! seriously scary chemicals, actually. the kind you combine to make a hard plastic coating.

more later as things develop.

Help!

if anyone knows where i can get some white lightning this far up north in yankeelandia, please contact me via this blog. that's right. i'm steady on the look out for real, honest-to-goodness moonshine, and i'm really not all that interested in making it myself -- even though technically, that's what i'm supposed to do for kwanzaa.

yep. it's time to start thinking seriously about those special presents and i'm not crafts-y enough to throw it all together at the last minute like everybody else. to tell you the truth, i came up with this idea in july but i didn't do anything about it because i didn't think i could. before i discard it completely, i thought i'd ask.

there's got to be someone out there who knows where there's homemade hooch up here. can't you get anything in new york city?