Though Donald Trump has tried his best to ruin Juneteenth weekend for all of us who celebrate with his Stephen Miller-inspired racist routine, Orange Trumpie can’t stop no show. We are still BBQing and though younger folks may be listening to hip-hop and other genres of music, some of us older folks are hearkening back to the hits of the late ‘50s, through the ‘60s and into the ‘70s during the heyday of rhythm and blues and what later became Black rock ‘n’ roll.
The face of Tou Thao is like mine and not like mine, although the face of George Floyd is like mine and not like mine too. Racism makes us focus on the differences in our faces rather than our similarities, and in the alchemical experiment of the U.S., racial difference mixes with labor exploitation to produce an explosive mix of profit and atrocity.
How watching an old British series full of racist tropes in Pakistan changed my perspective on whether such shows should be banned.
I started working as a press attaché for the fashion designer Patrick Kelly in Paris in 1986, a time in my life when work often stretched deep into the evenings. Inspiration came to Patrick, the first American (and first African-American) admitted to Chambre syndicale du pret-a-porter, in the wee hours. People in American fashion passing through Paris knew if they stopped by 6 Rue du Parc Royal late at night they were likely to find him hard at work as the party built around him.
…as I watch the news and hear of police running over protesters, white nationalists creating chaos and confusion so they can blame peaceful demonstrators, and our racist president stoking the fires of hatred and violence again and again—it makes we wonder if our sector is equipped to help bend the arc toward justice, or if we have collectively become the “white moderate” that Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. calls the biggest barrier for equity and justice for Black people and thus for us all.
May 2014, a month after I published my first article about being trans, I woke up at dawn between two naked men, on the top floor of a townhouse in Park Slope. I’d followed the rules of straight womanhood for over a decade, and it hadn’t made me happy, so I wanted to test my boundaries, push myself to be with people in ways I hadn’t before. That was when Barrett and Jason came along, a bisexual couple I met online who were interested in dating a woman.
For decades, conservatism has preached a gospel of “individualism,” disdaining the idea — which is backed by considerable scientific evidence — that humans are deeply interdependent pack animals whose survival depends more on cooperation than on individual striving. That right-wing gospel is being rapidly exposed as not but silly, but meaningless and even dangerous in the age of coronavirus.
After deadly outbreaks, architects transform the places we live and work. This time won’t be different.
Let’s be real: Despite his recently adopted pro-life views, our twice-divorced, oft-philandering president has never been religious. What he really wants is to end the lockdown quickly in order to save “the economy.” Politicians keep suggesting we forgo public health advice and get back to work for the sake of this “economy” thing; the ironic hashtag #DieForTheDow trended on Twitter after the 69-year-old lieutenant governor of Texas suggested he’d risk dying from the virus to keep the stock market chugging.
For his entire adult life, and for his entire presidency, Donald Trump has created his own alternate reality, complete with his own alternate set of facts. He has shown himself to be erratic, impulsive, narcissistic, vindictive, cruel, mendacious, and devoid of empathy. None of that is new.
But we’re now entering the most dangerous phase of the Trump presidency.