A superior blog that looks down its self-righteous nose at American pop culture and hypocrisy.
What should have been a mouth-dropping moment of deep pride for little Latina girls all over the world, Disney has made a cartoon of.
Shame on you, Disney.
Before the crown had two seconds to sit atop the pretty little head of our first Latina princess, you sweep her out onto the public stage in whiteface to jeers and boos.
With the worldwide success of The Avengers and other movies that celebrate the daring feats of fictional heroes, it is good to know that there is a Master and Commander who was there from the beginning.
This Master and Commander will never fail you, leave you, or forsake you.
This Master and Commander, the source of true marvels, provides a real escape.
Skin (2008), based on the novel When She Was White by Judith Stone, is one hundred and seven minutes of back-to-black racial foolishness. It is sometimes hard to believe that such bizarre stories can be based in truth, that so-called human beings actually behave toward other human beings this way. Over a thin layer of flesh.
Never Let Me Go (2010), a film based on the best-selling novel by Kazuo Ishiguro (Remains of the Day), is a tale of genetically engineered clones raised to be organ donors who embrace a fleeting chance to live and love. Never Let Me Go is an unreality that will stay with you for days . . . clinging like heat in an attic . . . or an old wound.
The sea, a boundless prison ever flowing with beauty, is a gate. A boat, rusted, lying on its side as if discarded on the seashore by a child’s lost interest, is the key—useless as it is. A whipping wind then, as the clones watch from the sand, becomes no more than the stinging chill of hopelessness.
"In the beginning"
Kareen Wynter graduated magna cum laude with a Bachelor of Arts degree in psychology from Boston College. She also earned a Master of Arts degree in broadcast journalism from the S.I. Newhouse School of Public Communications at Syracuse University. In the 1990s, Kareen Wynter worked for ABC affiliate WEWS-TV in Cleveland, Ohio. Dedicated and fearless, tenaciously, she reported in the blazing-hot summer sun while very pregnant. And ring-less. (But don’t read too much into that. Her fingers were probably swollen.)
"In seven years, seven months, or seven weeks..."
Rumor was that Karen got run out of her wealthy, mostly white neighborhood. Something about all that (black) traffic coming to her door. When I went to see her, narrowly a second had elapsed before I heard the frantic rustling and flapping of wings, saw black birds, as if startled by my presence, flying away from her as if she were a human scarecrow. But I did not actually see the birds. Nor did I actually hear those we-must-fly-away-now sounds. I sensed them. In that moment, sitting across from Karen, whose head was tilted, eyes closed in meditation, hands shuffling her beloved tarot cards, I was confounded as to who was the real witch, her or me.
“What I done, I did in self-defense. I have nothing against anyone. I am ready to meet my God.”
Once upon a time, a certain pretty girl with good teeth, swathed in the warm and glowing aura of celebrity, bore the slap heard around the world. There was righteous sympathy for her and equally righteous disdain for her attacker. But what if she had been a bad girl, but perfectly good at it? What if her eyes had been brown and not green, skin blacker, teeth the color of 
or worry?
There is a road like a large footpath between lush, whispering trees. A road of blood-orange dirt, a hardened mound lifted like a freshly dug grave. Down this road lives a whore. She was not always a whore. Our true selves are always god-like and artistic. She wanted to sing, too—sang in the church as a child all the time. Grew up in the church. But that was a long time ago. Times are bad. The wages of cooking and cleaning for whites could pay her fare North to a life as a nightclub singer, but how long could that take?
Skip it!
Egad! Yet another version of this monkey business? Really? Here’s the problem. Perhaps it’s a personal problem. Consciously or subconsciously, I have the same love/hate relationship with the innocent monkey that blacks and whites have with each other, women and men have with each other, etc. My problem is with blight people. People (black, white or other) who wither hopes, destroy prospects, impair growth, or employ not too subtle ways to make intentionally harmful social or political commentary.
