Black American

12:29 a.m. Saturday February 04/2012

I'm in favor of dropping the name "African American" for "Black American" or, perhaps, and even better, just "American."

I was never crazy about being called Black as a child. Why "Black" when I was quite obviously brown? And throughout my development into the beautiful Black American Spanish woman I am today, there has been the very condemning "You're not Black enough" comment and judgements from both Blacks and other races. I even had a Dutch-descendant South African tell me, jokingly, "I'm more African than you are." I'm not looking to be either.

There's African culture and heritage, which are completely absent from my life. I have a Black American cultural heritage and a desire for an older history and deeper tradition. Something lost in the various slaveries my forefathers experienced and something lost in the way my single-parent household was established. The continuing matricentric system of "independence" and "self-reliance" dipped in longing and steeped in "I blame your father."

So, with that, there are days I count myself Black and, recently, more days that I count myself as Latina (to the surprise and the chagrin of more obviously, outwardly and culturally Mexican, Salvadoran, Guatemalan friends). Yes, I am a Spanish and Mayan descendant. No, I don't need your approval to raise my hand as Latin. There are even days I refuse to identify.

I do know that I haven't any ties to Africa. No country or tribe or bread crumb trail. This is part of being a Black American.

May I?

09:25 a.m. Sunday January 29/2012

Today is Marissa's baptism. I couldn't do the twisties she lives so much, so at Dom's suggestion, I've done the New Year hair do. With the addition of the China flower that is bigger than my head.

In the Metro just now, an older black woman approached me and asked, "May I see how the back is up?" She was so lovely, beautiful dark skin and burgundy lipstick like my Big Mommy. She oo'd and ahh'd and I told her about the upside down twists and braids and the combs and pins that hold the Napptural half-fro front part in place.

She said, "I like that. It's like the 40s and natural and beautiful."

I nodded and smiled, pleased I had impressed such a beautiful woman.

I had wanted to add, "My Gma has an aversion to my hairstyles," then decided to shut it. No need wasting a great moment with my sarcastic cynicism.

I often wonder if the black men appreciate my hairstyles. Do the white men? Many times I think white men are awed by my hair, the never ending variations, curls, fluff, waves, poof, width and height. I am always awed by blond and red hair on men. Amazing.

Sara, my Boogs, has heard me say it a million times, "I want to have a boy with red hair and name him Pepper." "Good luck with that" is the usual response. It's possible.

Hey, Nick Stahl

09:16 Sunday January 28/2012

Celebrities I continue to run into include, and are not limited to, that dude from "Notebook," Ryan Gosling, and Nick Stahl. I ran into Nick Stahl again today.

There's Nick Stahl. Is there anything I want to say to him? Perhaps, "Hey, Nick Stahl. We met at Starbucks in Santa Monica when I worked there about 8 1/2 years ago. Hey, look here (looking down at the logo on my hood), I work a retail gig again, and hey, you're still an actor, right? What're you doing on the bus? Plan on getting drunk in downtown?" Or, maybe just, "Nick Stahl? How're you doin'?"

I don't know what to say to Nick Stahl after running into him again.

So, I sat 2 rows behind him staring a hole in his direction thinking, If he starts a conversation, okay.

Then, I started to think the most guilt-fueled thoughts:

What if he dies tonight and I didn't invite him to church?

He looks tired. I'm not talking to him.

I want to get home and not guilt myself out about Nick Stahl. I don't have anything to give him in this moment and I don't have any requests of him.

Should I give him my design card? Why?

Then, I started thinking that therapy for my apparent co-dependent tendencies and attraction to emotionally unavailable, drug-addicted white guys would be a good idea. Step in the right direction. Not that Nick Stahl is emotionally unavailable or drug-addicted. Seems like a regular guy. Gettin' coffee. Ridin' the bus. Actin'.

Then, I started to pray. My prayer is between me and God, although I will spill the beans once it is realized.

So, yeah. Nick Stahl. "Nice tattoos."