The Musings of a Latte Queen: Narratives of Everyday Life

Trayvon Martin, Jordan Davis, Eric Garner, Mike Brown and the Marketing of Black Fear Yesterday, the parents and over 600 family members entered the cavernous building of the Friendly Temple Missionary Baptist Church on the west side of St. Louis to do what no family of an 18 year old ever expected to do.   They entered to eulogize and bury their son, their brother, their grandson, their nephew, their cousin, their friend.   The world watched and Leslie McSpadden, Michael Brown, Sr. and their respective spouses had to be yet another long list of parents doing what is the unnatural.   WhY? And When will there be an end? The past two weeks in my city have included protests met with tear gas, rubber bullets, militarized police, innocent and opportunists.   There have been forums, marches, candlelight vigils, churches raided for Maalox and water, all because a white police officer shot ten rounds, landing six in the giant body of young Michael Brown, all ...

Like many in my metropolitian area, we were winding down the last muggy days of summer before the area kids started school in waves.  For many, it was their last weekend of summer before they would put on clothes, backpacks, and stand at bus stops.  For me, it was the last of a string of memorial services for family members who had lived a long fruitful life.  It was just another Saturday. I had been with family and wanting to be present, had my phone and social media turned off.  It wasn't until the repast after the repast ended that I turned on my phone and was flooded with information about a police involved shooting in Ferguson MO. From the time I read that at 9pm on Saturday night, the very day that my surrogate daughter celebrated her quarter century mark of life, I couldn't stop thinking about Mike Brown and the senseless murder of this 18 year old black man. I couldn't sleep and on Sunday, while celebrating the college going-away of another 18 year old,...

The television commercials have been in full swing, from the cheesy to the comical. The school buses have been doing their test run and parents across the nation have been doing their version of "Happy" while the kids have been trying to hide under the covers and prolong the inevitable. Back to school is one of my favorite seasons. I think it is because of the perpetual learner in me.  There is just something about those newly sharpened pencils, a fresh box of colored pencils, and the crisp ream of new paper that begs for the mind to be unleashed. My youngest children, both girls, seem to share my enthusiasm for the "Back-to-School" aisle at our local Target.  All the bins of markers, pens, pencils, and notebooks sent these girls gleefully up and down the aisles negotiating their "supply list" with the money their dad gave them for this task. I tried something different this year, instead of paying for it all at once, with their input, of course,...

I returned last night from an epic road trip from St. Louis to Detroit. It was my husband's family reunion. They have been meeting together for 28 years. The generations have expanded and grown, new faces, some have transitioned, others have grayed.  They have added branches previously unknown and continue to show the most love, care, and attention to their young people. I was the inlaw, that put me in a wonderful position to absorb and observe. For all the many, many years that I have been in this proud black family, it never ceases to amaze me how nurturing the men in the family are to the youth in the family.  It is a sight to see these fathers with their sons and daughters, some married, some widowed or divorced, some never married, all proud fathers.  There are men who have raised their children to adulthood with college graduates as the fruit of their labor.  They have grandchildren and some are raising other men's children. It was the sight that st...