The Musings of a Latte Queen: Narratives of Everyday Life

I am sitting in the dark of my dining room, preparing my heart, mind, and soul to engage in protest during #FergusonOctober. I attended training this past Thursday night as a de-escalator, an appropriate role for this Jones Generation Mama who benefitted from the struggles of the Civil Rights Movement and the relative non-movement of my late 80s-90s young adulthood, when live was discovering me and I was enjoying the spoils of a Clinton Presidency in a city I adored. Something happened to the promise of the dream. As a woman who celebrated a jubilee birthday this year, the symbolism was not lost on me I know my parents were not anticipating that I would be the adult, the elder, watching, engaging, and talking with the young Millennials, my children, on the front lines of hate in the city of my birth. The symbolism of so many born during Freedom Summer who are now organizing, supporting, and advising the young ones leading Freedom Fall.  I can not let the comfort of my wel...

Ferguson. My next door neighbor are tired of hearing about it and were caught on tape cursing after an interruption at the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra performance this past Saturday night. My daughters know all about what I have done up there and I have formed relationships (even if virtual) with some amazing young activists who are striving to make a solid change in the system of racism. My friends have been made uncomfortable in their privilege and have had to face the mirror, one apologized to me so many times, I reminded her of the power she had to be an ally and effect change. My sisters told white mothers about "the talk" and are planning another one on this coming Monday. My connections are engaged in a buycott and thinking more consciously about where they spend their dollars. My organization has sat with other clergy while young people were wrongly jailed for chanting This is What Democracy Looks Like. Ferguson. The quest continues to expose a racist...