They stay on Nigga patrol on American roads
And when you travel abroad they got world Nigga laws
Some folks get on a plane go as they please
But I go over seas and I get over seized
London-Heathrow, me and my people
They think that illegal's a synonym for Negro
Far away places, customs agents flagrant
They think the dark face is smuggle waiting in cases
Bags inspected, now we arrested
Attention directed to contents of our intestines
Urinalysis followed by X-rays
Interrogated and detained to damn near the next day
No evidence, no apology and no regard
Even for the big American rap star ~ “Mr. Nigga”, Black On Both Sides – Mos Def

A few mornings ago, as I prepared my gourmet breakfast of grits and veggie bacon, I recalled an incident from High School. I remember it was 11th grade, Mrs. Heaske’s Healthcare Practicum class, and a group of us (who should have been busy learning how to take a patient’s vitals or how many bones are in the human body) where sitting around jaw jacking those halcyon school days away. I can’t remember how we got on the subject but one of us turned to this girl named Sandy and asked her if it was true that she was African. After recoiling in terror and bugging her eyes like a character in a Tex Avery cartoon, Sandy calmly but very haughtily informed all of us that she was not African but in fact…get this…Egyptian! Well after our eyes were sufficiently debugged, we very calmly and even more haughtily informed Sandy that last we heard, there hadn’t been a major geophysical catastrophe and that Egypt was still attached to the continent of Africa.

Young Sandy, noticing our complete discombobulation, explained that while the country of Egypt was indeed a part of the continent of Africa that people from North African countries were not the same as the rest of the continent so therefore could not be called African. When pressed to explain further what appeared to us to be nonsensical ramblings, Sandy just sighed and looked into our predominately black faces and said, “North Africans aren’t like you. We aren’t black!”

To say that I was floored, Dear Readers, would be an understatement! I’d grown up hearing my Jim Crow parents and Civil Rights Movement cousins talking about how “everybody wanna be ‘Black’ but don’t nobody wanna be black” but it never really registered with me until that day. It was even longer before I realized that black folk aren’t alone in this world when it comes to having our culture co-opted by the ruling class. Americans of African decent tend to think America invented racism and all things bigotry driven. I mean, sure we elevated that shit to an art form but we didn’t invent it and we aren’t the only people in the world still actively practicing it and being destroyed by it.

On the positive side, and yes there is always a positive side because I’m a “glass half full” type of girl, there are people around the world doing all they can do to end oppression of all kinds, particularly the white folk versus colored folk variety. So here I’ve collected a few examples of some drama being experienced by some other niggas…just to give you a little perspective and maybe, help you get off your ass and make a difference in your community and eventually the world. I’ll start with the country of New Zealand because GM and I are still so damned enthralled with the All Blacks and also because there is definitely no dearth of niggerishness going on at the (almost) bottom of the earth!

Island Niggratude, Maori Warrior Style

A Maori warrior claims new territory - Dean Hapeta and New Zealand's hip-hop subculture
UNESCO Courier, July 2000 by Kerry Buchanan

Dean Hapeta launched New Zealand's political hip-hop scene by linking the force of Maori culture with the struggle of black nationalism to fuel consciousness and controversy

"Nigger!" The biker's insult blindsided the eight-year-old boy, shattering his vision of both Maori and pakeha (white) society in Aotearoa, the original name of New Zealand. The verbal attack sharpened the boy's awareness of his society's colour lines. Afterwards, he couldn't stand the sight of his fellow Maori cast as the peaceful but subordinate native. Nor could he look up to indigenous gangs in his working-class neighbourhood of Upper Hull, outside the capital Wellington. Turning to white society, he felt oppression. So the boy began to look inward, to imagine a "new breed"--proud of his Maori past and committed to a radical break with the legacy of colonial domination.

Today, at the age of 34, Hapeta will refer to himself as "one bad nigger" in reference to his hardcore politics as a rapper. Here lies Hapeta's strength and, for some, his weakness: the ability to weave Maori culture, language and political demands--from land and fishing rights to economic equality--within the style and context of black American hip-hop. Indeed Hapeta and his group Upper Hull Posse (UHP) have influenced a generation of hip-hop bands and fans across the country. Before these "warriors" stormed the stage, Maori music was generally marginalised like an exotic trinket of the past used in the "ritual" of entertaining tourists. By rapping in their language and incorporating the sounds, values and history of their people, Hapeta and like-minded artists shatter stereotypes of what it means to be Maori.

Black Nationalism Through The Looking Glass, Ass Backwards

Health book tells Maori to smoke
09.25.05 By Amanda Cameron

Maori have every right to enjoy smoking, gambling and eating fatty foods if they want to - and Maori health workers who say otherwise are just brainwashed "house niggers".

That's according to the authors of a controversial new book on Maori health published by one of South Auckland's largest Maori health providers.

The Kotahitanga Community Trust, a taxpayer-funded charitable organisation in Counties Manukau, provides health care for more than 5000 patients - 4000 of whom are Maori.

The book, Maori Health, was co-authored by trust chairman Peter Caccioppoli and Rhys Cullen, a GP at the trust's Papakura practice and published using funds from Mr Caccioppoli's family trust.

It endorses the right of Maori to indulge in pleasurable, but unhealthy, pastimes - despite the consequences.

"Maori enjoy life. Maori like to smoke. Maori like to eat. Maori like to drink. Maori enjoy sex. Maori like to talk. Maori like to gamble and take risks. And Maori like to fight, on and off the sports field," the book says.

"If Maori enjoy it, the Crown is against it. If Maori have it and want it, the Crown tries to take it away. We support the choice of the overwhelming majority of our community to smoke. It is one way that Maori can say 'Stuff you' to the health Nazis and have a good time."

The book has been condemned by Maori health experts as dangerous and lacking credibility.

However, Mr Caccioppoli and Dr Cullen say there is no reason why young Maori should not smoke. They advise Maori to lie about their smoking habits to avoid being hassled by "health Nazis".

The pair say the health system is racist and opposes activities like smoking and eating fatty foods simply because Maori enjoy them.

Instead of expecting Maori to stop smoking or start dieting and exercising, the Ministry of Health should instead provide Maori with pills to prevent illnesses like diabetes and heart disease, they advise.

"The health system sees diabetes as a consequence of Maori being fat and lazy and not having enough willpower to do what they need to do.

"We are critical of the house niggers who preach this Pakeha message to Maori.

"The answer to diabetes is not diet and exercise but medication," the book says.

The authors declare that cervical screening "contravenes significant cultural norms" and has been imposed on Maori by Pakeha.

Anti-gambling research is "rubbish" and Maori babies do not benefit from routine childhood vaccination against diphtheria, tetanus, whooping cough and polio, they add.

"Anti-gambling research is rubbish. It can be seen as just another example of the health Nazis looking to extend their empire," the book says.

Borrowing from speeches by Malcolm X, the authors say Maori health workers who endorse Ministry of Health strategy are "house niggers" who have been brainwashed by Pakeha and kept tamed by greedy "Uncle Tom" Maori health managers.

"Beware the brown face talking of 'best practice'. It probably means 'best Pakeha practice' and is the talk of a house nigger," the book says.

The Trust received around $300,000 of Government funding last year - $60 for each of about 5000 patients - and had to rely on funds from the Lottery Grants Board and the Community Organisation Grants Scheme.

The book has been distributed widely, and stocked by Medical Books, a bookshop for doctors and medical students, and held by the New Zealand Nursing Organisation's library.

Counties Manukau District Health Board Maori health manager Bernard Te Paa pointed out that smoking, poor nutrition and insufficient physical activity were some of the main causes of Maori ill-health.

Mr Te Paa added he was disappointed at the authors' views on Maori health workers.

"It's a gross exaggeration of the role that Maori play in the mainstream health system."

Director of the Maori Smokefree Coalition, Shane Bradbrook, said the book's advice on smoking was "absolute crap" and potentially dangerous for patients.

"I'd be highly concerned if a health provider was providing that sort of advice," he said.

John Stansfield, chief executive of the Problem Gambling Foundation, called the book "self-serving nonsense", and said that gambling - especially pokie machines - visited "significant harm" on Maori.

Nikki Turner from the Immunisation Advisory Centre dismissed the book's claims about childhood vaccination as dangerous and unsubstantiated by scientific evidence.

Dr Papaarangi Reid, from the Auckland University's Faculty of Medical and Health Sciences, said much of the advice in the book defied what doctors considered "best" medical practice.

The Ministry of Health did not wish to comment.

Mr Caccioppoli said he stood by everything that was written in the book, and denied he and Dr Rhys had been deliberately controversial for publicity's sake.

Asked why he wrote the book, he said he wanted people to reconsider how Maori health was defined and how healthcare for Maori was delivered.

Mr Caccioppoli, 26, has no tertiary qualifications. Dr Cullen could not be reached for comment.

From The “Nigga Please!” Files…

Prince William charms the All Blacks
Source: AAP, 07/05/05

Glamour player Ma'a Nonu said afterwards that meeting the prince was a special moment. "Not a lot of brown brothers get to shake his hand," Nonu said.
 
"It's good to see him, especially because he's my age...seeing him on TV growing up as a boy," said the 23-year-old, who sports blond-tipped dreadlocks and is known to wear makeup on the field.
 
Nonu looked forward to seeing William at a lunch in Auckland on Tuesday to "sit down and have a chat with him just about normal stuff".
 
Asked what kind of stuff, he said: "Ladies. How many ladies he gets. Something like that."
 
Fijian-born winger Sitiveni Sivivatu did not know what the fuss over the prince was about.

[M.D.] Not strong
[T.K.] Only aggressive
[M.D.] Not free
[T.K.] We only licensed
[M.D.] Not compassionate, only polite
[T.K.] Now who the nicest?
[M.D.] Not good but well behaved
[T.K.] Chasin after death
so we can call ourselves brave?
[M.D.] Still livin like mental slaves
[both] Hidin like thieves in the night from life
Illusions of oasis makin you look twice ~ “Thieves In The Night”, Mos Def & Talib Kweli are Black Star – Black Star

There was just so much information from all over the world that I decided to make Worldwide Niggerdom a regular part of the blog. Stay nappy and happy Dear Readers! – GD


Sambo pic found here

1 Comment

Oh my dear, dear readers what a weekend your beauteous Glamour Diva has had! What with the fiber optic stalking, musings on the male member and studying for final exams, Ms. GD hasn’t had a drama free moment to herself! But alas, I am here today to tell you all about it because I know you’re all a twitter and a flutter and can’t wait! Ready? Here we go…

Ponder this…
The master in the art of living makes little distinction between his work and his play, his labor and his leisure, his mind and his body, his information and his recreation, his love and his religion. He hardly knows which is which. He simply pursues his vision of excellence at whatever he does, leaving others to decide whether he is working or playing. To him he's always doing both. – James A. Michener

Erections! We got erections! Get your erections here!

So there I was, sitting in my living room, minding my own business, when I decided that I’d turn on Saturday Night Live so I could watch my current musical heartthrob, James Blunt, perform. Well I’d forgotten that you have to wait until halfway into the show to see the musical guest so I decided to just set there because I didn’t have shit else to do you know? Besides, I haven’t liked SNL since Eddie Murphy left. As far as I’m concerned, it’s been downhill from there.

So anyway, this comedian named Dane Cook was introduced as the special guest and he started his monologue, which was basically a standup routine but a very funny one indeed. I kid you not I was in hysterics! Towards the end of his set he begins a little story about the day he had his “best erection ever”. He’d just gotten up, was walking around the house, and there it was in all it’s spectacular, blood engorged glory! The punch line of the joke was that while making himself a sandwich he decided to use his penis as a catapult of sorts and launch a cashew into his mouth! Seriously, he said that on national TV dear readers.

After I picked myself up off the floor and rubbed salve into the bruises I received from all the laughing and rolling around on my hardwood floors, I took a few moments to reflect on what he’d said. No, no not the cashew part, just the erection part! [Get your minds out of the gutter you filthy, filthy (yet still very dear) readers!] The relationship men have with their cocks has always fascinated me. Men always seem to be very schizophrenic about their genitals. On the one hand, you have the penis as close, personal friend. On the other hand the penis can be a man’s worst enemy. If you mention castration to a man he winces but if you suggest that he should try to control himself he’ll tell you how his penis has a mind of it’s own.

What gives? We as women don’t seem to be so wrapped up in our clitorides. Is this because we are so used to being ignored and/or butchered by men that we’ve learned to separate ourselves from our bodies? Or is it because women don’t define their femininity by their breasts or uteri? How can we when we know that these things can be so easily taken away from us all in the name of our “health” or “safety”? I’m not down playing the very real dangers of breast and uterine cancer, or even female genital mutilation. I just find it interesting that in the 21st century women’s bodies are still treated as mysterious, walking, baby crockpots. It seems as though medical science is concentrated solely on keeping us reproductively viable and when we are no longer able to bear offspring then it’s “Out With Her Uterus”! I know that if men were affected by cancer in the same way, that is to say forced to choose between certain death and life without reproductive organs or genitals, female genital mutilation would finally be outlawed the world over and medical science would be further along in detection as well as a cure for all cancers.

But back to erections and my original point – WebMD defines erections thusly:

Physical and/or mental stimulation cause nerves in the brain to send chemical messages to nerves in the penis telling the penis to relax so that blood can flow freely into the penis. Once in the penis, high pressure traps the blood. This causes the penis to expand, thereby creating an erection.

If this is true then why are women so often blamed for erections? How many times have you heard, my dear female readers, and not necessarily in a joking manner, “Baby look what you’ve done to me?” I hate that shit. I am not responsible for your hard cock. No woman is responsible for your hard cock. Forget what you’ve been told gentlemen; you do in fact have control over your erection! Granted as the above snippet states, you may not have control of the initial acquisition of one but you defiantly have control over whether or not you keep it. I refuse to believe that every time a man has a stray thought and/or sees an attractive woman that it becomes some sort of out of body experience for him and he’s forced to go along with things until his spirit is permitted reentry.

And no, telling me that I’ve caused your erection does not excite me or make me feel special. Why? Because I know that almost any woman could do that for you. What excites me and makes me feel special is that my scintillating intellect, sparkling personality as well as my bodacious booty turn you on so much that you want me to ride you like the Lone Ranger rode Silver! But even more importantly is knowing that out of the hundreds of erections you’ve had during the day you’ve chosen to share this particular one with me.

So thank you Dane Cook for sharing your erection with me and the rest of the world…I bet you never knew your hard on would be responsible for such deep thought did you?

Call me…on the line, call me, call me any…anytime. Call me!

So there I was on a Friday night, doing my grocery shopping in the 8th circle of hell (also known as Wal-Mart Supercenter), minding my own business, when a man walked up to me, trying to get my attention. Now no matter what galaxyMafia says, I never think that just because a man walks up to me and tries to start a conversation that he’s interested. It just so happens that nine times out of ten he is interested!

Unfortunately for me I’m a nice person and I listened well when my sweet, southern Mama Diva was teaching me how to be a swee, southern Glamour Diva in training – no matter who walks up to you you should always smile politely and you are always respectful. Why is this lesson unfortunate you ask? It’s unfortunate because smiling and showing respect is so often confused with romantic interest in some men’s eyes. The logic goes like this: I find her attractive. She didn’t slap me; curse my mother for giving birth to me, or run away screaming when I approached her therefore she must be interested in me. Au contraire mon frère!

His name is Tejan and we works restock. He is from Sierra Leon and is thirty-seven years old. He isn’t very tall or all that cute either but he has nice eyes and a tight, muscular little body. He is also very chivalrous and walks me to my vehicle and helps me with my bags. By this point I’m thinking that it probably wouldn’t be so bad if I went out with him. I haven’t been out on a date in ions and Glamour Divas get lonely too! Also, he has white, straight teeth and can hold a decent conversation, what more could a girl ask for right? Well as it turns out a lot more but I’m getting ahead of myself!

We exchange phone numbers and he promises to call me Saturday morning after he gets off work. About thirty minutes after I got home the phone rings and guess who it is? Why Tejan of course! He says he knows he wasn’t supposed to call until Saturday but that he just couldn’t wait to speak to me again. I think this is very sweet and we talk for about fifteen minutes after which Ms. GD heads off to the land of Nod.

It is 8:30 on a Saturday morning and my phone startles me awake. I answer the phone and it is Tejan on the other end. We talk for a very long time. He is quite the raconteur and regales me with stories about his life in the United States, his family, Sierra Leon and his arduous search for a good woman. His accent is a tiny bit difficult to navigate at first but I begin to find it charming. I tell him that I’m getting sleepy again and ask if I could call him back later in the evening after I’ve finished my nap and my errands? He says yes and we draw out our goodbyes, it’s all very sweet and full of hope. And then the bottom falls out. The last words he speaks to me are the three little words no one should ever say to anyone in the first 24 hours of their meeting – I love you!

Yes you best believe it dear readers; the man told me he loved me! Love. ME! Don’t you know I hurried up and hung up that damn phone? I swear that man called me all damn day long! I had to turn the ringer off just so I could get some peace! When I checked Sunday I had twenty calls and ten messages from him. And before you say it, no it isn’t a cultural thing! This isn’t the first time a man I’ve known less than 24 hours has told me he loves me, all of them up until Saturday have been American! In fact, I seen to have a talent for finding, shall we say, overzealous suitors?

There was “Pete” the alcoholic, Vaughn, or as he called himself, “Dollar Bill Vaughn” the man that couldn’t keep a date to save his life, then Tejan and some guy named Eduardo who decide to pop up Saturday also after a two-month hiatus (we never actually went on a date. We’d make plans to “make plans” and then I wouldn’t hear from him for a few weeks).

In all this madness I’ve been able to extrapolate two reoccurring themes:
1.She ain’t got shit else to do but sit around and wait/talk for/to my ass – This has to be what these fools are thinking when they either call you all day and all night long or, in Eduardo’s case, call you after two months like you’ve been vacuum-packed waiting for their return!
2.My biological clock is ticking too damnit! – I don’t doubt that men, eventually, want to have a family and all the wonderful things that women are supposed to crave but getting a woman to marry you isn’t like buying a car. You just don’t wake up one day and head out to the woman dealership and pick up the latest model at the best price! I’d be the first to say that marriage is more of a business transaction then many of us would like to believe but this is just ridiculous. It is the height of conceit that men think they can just pop off a woman from the woman six pack and drink down her womanly goodness anytime they damn well please!

You know what really chaps my hide though? It’s knowing that if I were the aggressor I would be called a stereotypical hysterical, stalking woman! Face it, men say they like it when women are the aggressors but what they really mean is that they want a woman they already find attractive coming on to them and chasing them all over town! I just don’t understand this mentality. If Michael Phelps professed his undying love for me the moment we met and proceeded to blow up my phone all day and into the wee hours of the night, I’d still think he was a stalker. Fine as hell but still a stalker!

So now I am forced to go against everything Mama Diva has ever taught me and call both these men and tell them where to get off. Getting salty with people, contrary to popular belief, is not something I enjoy. I prefer to ignore people until they fade from my memory, which with me being an Aquarian shouldn’t take more than a few weeks. But still, it’s a choir and choirs aren’t good for my fabulous manicure!

Ponder this as well…
"Half the world is composed of idiots, the other half of people clever enough to take indecent advantage of them." – Walter Kerr

Dating is a bunch of bullshit! There, I’ve said it. So sue me! - GD

NAME: Dr. Drew Pinsky

AGE: 47

HEIGHT: Dunno

WEIGHT: Dunno

WHY SUSHI SHOULD BE EATEN OFF HIM? I know he’s happily married but a girl can dream can’t she?!?!?!?!? Besides, he’s adorable and he knows a lot about sex which is Ms. GD’s favorite subject!

FROM WHAT PART OF HIS BODY SHOULD YOU EAT THE SUSHI? This is a hard one because I’ve never seen him naked. It doesn’t look as though he has a pot belly so I’ll say chest

WHERE SHOULD YOU BE WHEN YOU EAT THE SUSHI OFF HIM? In a "no tell motel", far away from his wife! (Disclaimer – Ms. GD does not advocate adultery in any form so don’t shoot me in the temple Mrs. Pinsky!)

WHEN SHOULD YOU EAT SUSHI OFF HIM? I don’t know! I suppose this choice is a bit esoteric but I just LOVE smart men! How can you not love a man who can speak about sex in so much detail without boring you to tears or making you feel like a complete perv? And the sexy salt and pepper hair and wire rim glasses aren’t what I’d call a turn off either…

HOW SHOULD YOU EAT SUSHI OFF HIM? Quickly; before his wife finds you! (Disclaimer – Ms. GD does not advocate adultery in any form so don’t stab me in the chest Mrs. Pinsky!)

PROPENSITY FOR VIOLENCE: Very low. Dr. Drew is an educator, not a fighter. Also, there’s the matter of that Hippocratic Oath he took…

STALKER QUOTIENT: -100 (increases exponentially if he thinks you might not be practicing safe sex)

SHOULD/COULD/WOULD YOU QUIT YOUR JOB FOR HIM? Um…no. Did I mention he was happily married?

IS HE WORTH BEING PHOTOGRAPHED GIVING KARL ROVE A TONGUE BATH WHILE BEING ANALLY PROBED BY RICK SANTORUM? I don’t know what Dr. Drew’s political affiliation is but I sense he would never…EVER want you to do anything that would compromise your health or your dignity!

IF HE WANTED TO USE YOUR PLACE AS A SAFEHOUSE WHILE AVOIDING CAPTURE AND CERTAIN PROSECUTION BY THE FEDS FOR BITCH SLAPPING ALL THE CURRENT UNITED STATES SUPREME COURT JUSTICES, WOULD YOU LET HIM STAY, TELL HIM TO GET THE HELL ON, OR TURN HIM IN? See answer to previous question

WOULD YOU HELP HIM FENCE STOLEN ART? He can ask Mrs. Pinsky to do that shizzle…


Fun Facts – Did you know that Dr. Drew likes to play the piano and sing opera? He’s a baritone and trained as a singer for 12 years! – GD