Chronicles of The Littlest Hobo

test

2010-10-30T20:43:00.001+01:00

test

one drop

2010-10-30T20:34:00.001+01:00

http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/pages/frontline/shows/jefferson/mixed/onedrop.html

School 1/20: Icknield Lower School

2010-01-16T19:03:00.003Z

Once, i ripped a gold hoop clear out of this girl´s ear.
It sliced the part of her flesh that attached her ear to her head.
Like a pink cheese slice.

She had been bullying me in the playground for months before.
Taunting, mimicking, mocking, ridiculing.
I´d had enough.

And when she came up to my face one day
her cropped blonde wispy head
threatening my direction
i took a good look at her snot-crusted nose
and sore red upper lip
that peeled like a burns victim
her hands jutting close to my eyes
stumpy and nails bitten
down so far all that remained was a thin crescent
and fatty meat for fingers
at five years old, i made valuable realisations:

1) I didn´t care for kids who had green snot.
Mine was clear- and never on parade.
How did children manage to concoct such disgusting
gunge goo from their nasal cavity
and wander around as if it were some kind of trophy?

2) One should not continuously lick the area above one´s lip
it looked so raw and painful
that salmon pink grated skin
would never become me.

3) I would never bite away my nails in such an ugly fashion
it made me wretch.
and to this day never trusted someone with too much meat on his fingers and toes.

(now back to the confrontation)

Her scowl now making her ugly runt face even more contorted
Growing redder by the moment
fuelled by my look of disgust and pity.
Then, unable to control herself
she struck!

I´ve never been one for violence
however growing up i was always told,

´Dionne, if someone hits you, then hit them back twice as hard.
Without the teacher seeing.´

So with all my might and limited wisdom,
i shoved this urchin and her ailments away from me.

Insensed, she paused momentarily
(probably to size me up)
then charged at full speed
grabbing an easy target
(the braids that hung from my head with beads sewn to the bottom- now lamenting what a great weapon they would have made)

Disabled and unable to see now,
i swung for anything i could reach

turned out her earing was within my clutch

so i tightened my grip

and tugged

HARD.

Two swolen sodden red cheeks later
and a school mob outraged at my behaviour
i was marched to see the headmistress.

*I recall hoop earings being banned from there and shortly after that incident i moved onto the second institution in my school career.*

Playtime

2010-01-16T18:54:00.002Z

Your dove-soft cheeks
burn with untamed embers
but i´m not sure if it´s for anger or sadness.

Your glistening khaki eyes
brimming with incomprehendable frustration
glower without the endurance to fully meet mine.

Yet somehow this manages to slice me in two.
My insides oozing out my body
into a mulchy stench.

I´m ashamed I allow you to feel this way.
My head stomps on itself to warn me
I´ll never forgive myself for this once you´re gone.

Yet i continue to retain this trembling fury
that was never allowed out
to play or otherwise.

She was instead locked behind icy glass
contained in her box
until she was sedated enough
to accept the way it was
Without question.

Slaves with consent
humiliated
abused
tortured
and disgraced.
In silence
For it´s unladylike to protest.
To ask questions.
To feel anything.

It´s not enough that you feel forever guilty
So i provoke your dove cheeks to burn
and dare your khaki eyes to emit the tears
i was never allowed to shed.
And I relish your anguish.
and somehow,
although disgusted,
I´m relieved.

The Strangers

2010-01-16T18:48:00.004Z

Gentle greetings
Pleasant yet unfamiliar
the awkwardness of this
preoccupied in unbuckling a shoe.

It´s polite to remove them
It also laminates the distance between us.

Forced and strained questions
I receive gratefully.
You´re trying
I do my best to formulate a simple yet ample response.

You nod.
Did your bit.

A flushed cheek
I was caught looking too long at your face
examining the lines and hairs i´d never noticed before.

All our cracks are exposed now.
But i like it that way.

Occasionally we spread concrete filler
by sharing news about our uninteresting lives.

Uninteresting to each other as we never did
nor never will
understand what it is we do to fill time.
And how we came to be
here.

Wet dreams

2010-01-16T18:44:00.003Z

The snow
thick sludge carpet
cushions like a crispy velvet mattress.
Gradually my extremities loose the will
to keep tingling.
Instead i gasp shocking white air
inhaling first with throbbing pulse
resort to the sallow ascent.

Eggshell Teeth

2010-01-16T18:38:00.002Z

His hospital walls ache with echoes.
I´ll never fill the time nor space
he has reserved in his
Twinkling abyss.
Helplessly and aimlessly i
continue to be a hinderance
to fill those polystyrene walls

The Castle of Bread

2010-01-16T18:33:00.002Z

The walls, sturdy like granite
prohibit any foreign body or creature
to step across the line.

If one decides to tread beyond and against
what is humanely advisable,
the barrier swoops down
and instead of consent
comes a series of world class challenges
Endurance Olympics.
The cold metal shutters creak shut
and clamp down airtight.
The sturdy oak drawerbridge raises up from its previous position
over the moat of despondence.

Within those granite walls
her pigeon heart
chubby like dough
knotted in complicated anxiety
cushions itself.

heartache with a side of dismal

2008-11-13T16:55:00.001Z

i bore myself. it's official.

2008-11-13T00:59:00.001Z

time to escape for a bit.

L'Amour et la Violence / Sébastien Tellier

2008-11-12T18:34:00.001Z

was an epic evening, feel i'm still scrambling myself together. off to an art/music collabatory event courtesy of these guys. great project.
http://www.pamperofundacion.com

hobo on the move...again!

2008-11-11T19:12:00.004Z

i write this as a wait for the next chapter to start. finally moving into my new abode after much painstakingly awkward frustration with letting agents, landlords and red tape. i'm supposed to be supporting a friend's caleigh this evening, as well as attend a swap shop party...oh and meet old uni friends for drinks. not sure i'll be able to do any of the above, and instead lug binliners to my empty shell, sit on the floor and crack open a bottle of red with shirley. the legend that she is forces me to realise i'll be nursing a sore head tomorrow. still, at least i'll be in a palace by the sea.

see you on the other side. oh and for the road. i'm 3 minutes late but...

to inspire and delight, ode to Heidi

2008-11-10T14:47:00.009Z

I didn't get to bed until around 3.30am again. Up trailing the web promising myself '10 minutes' then succumbing to the hypnotising rabbit hole, click after click. i realised as i was temporarily distracted by a groan, weak fidget and repositioning (i was working next to him in bed), not only could i not function without the internet (sad, but true), but i feel excited about what's uncovered from its realm every day. so much learning, laughing and dismay at articles, blogs and the moving image.
i wanted to capture this feeling in a post (i'm being post-guttonous today, not sure if it will last), and make reference to a blog that i feel kick started my road to 'uncovering myself'. see for years i've started numerous blogs. but kept them sacred and private, for my eyes only. two problems with this: 1) i can let myself off the hook when i leave them stagnant. for months on end. and 2) i don't have the advantages that come through exposure. there is something quite amazing about sharing information with people, albeit terrifying! i love to learn, and am fascinated to explore topics from different angles.

The idea of blogging is an interesting one, and not only has it opened a world of new perspectives, but it's given me comfort and courage to bear my own. perhaps no-one will ever read my words, but it's ok as i don't feel the need to hide them away anymore. Heidi's blog was the first i stumbled across that hit me like a thunderbolt. it was a jab of realisation that there were lots more people 'like me', broadly speaking.

Unlike America, it seems the UK is a little bit more accepting of mixed race relationships.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/hi/english/static/in_depth/uk/2002/race/changing_face_of_britain.stmThings have changed a lot from the experience of my parents in the late 70s, early 80s. My mums stories of threats of violence, ignorance and abuse still shock me today. she is a fearless woman who was determined to keep the child that she was offered money to 'get rid of' due to it being half-caste. i digress.

fascinated with what Heidi's blog brought to the table, i felt stunned and almost scared by what i uncovered. the mixed race experience, representation, identity and diaspora were ideas that had resonated my entire existence. school projects were dominated by exploring this subject, and despite my eagerness to explore a new research area that meant so much to me, i was met with discouraging remarks from tutors, and told 'i'm making things hard for myself', instead picking a more popular 'safe' topic. a book entitled 'black, white or mixed race changed my life. http://www.amazon.co.uk/Black-White-Mixed-Race-Parentage/dp/0415097088 it was one of the first in the uk to even raise the subject, and it inspired me at 14 to perservere despite the criticism i faced.

returning to the subject area years later, i find layer after layer of voices, that won't be told to be quiet and hide away. more research on the topic is available within the public sphere, and i can talk with others who had a similar experience. see, i'm not big on race being an issue. it's a term that can be over used, over analysed and over killed. i am interested in exploring how we can all move forward and achieve unity, celebrating individuality, respecting and celebrating heritage, but not dividing on this bases. i want to challenge preconceptions, raise awareness and also connect with others that have had a shared experience, or even offer new experiences to the table. i'm almost 29 now, and finally had the courage to not only start, but keep a blog. reading Heidi's works, and others she recommend has given me courage to be myself and take the plunge. a childhood dream (of many) was to be a writer and an actress. i gave up on those dreams because i didn't believe i could ever succeed in such competitive fields. seems now there are more writers and actors than ever, however i want to give them a shot. since deciding this, i've had small paid acting roles, and committed to a regular acting class which i adore. i've also decided to share my words with others, and commit to developing myself. this is a long winded way of saying thank you to Heidi, and all those that continue to inspire me. thank you for writing, sharing and motivating others. following their achievements has helped me to battle my fear and move forward.

TV On The Radio - 'I Was A Lover'

2008-11-10T12:00:00.000Z

RIP Miriam Makeba

2008-11-10T10:50:00.001Z

a post for the posters!

2008-11-09T23:07:00.000Z

A post in reference to this article i posted on my facebook page:

http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/deadlineusa/2008/apr/01/obamaandmixedraceinameric

Hey guys, no apologies- it's really interesting/learning to read your thoughts - debate is welcome, loving all of your comments!
i thought about this topic a lot recently. it spurred a spontanious blub which i've regurgitated below. i was fearful about posting this on Facebook, but part of me feels it's good to put it into the arena. sharing, exchange, reciprocation etc. i find it impossible to be subjective about this topic in a way, so i make reference to personal experience.

agreed, it seems impossible to elude labels, however i think it's important to note there is a difference between nationality and race. although this is often served in one scoop.

it was a long, long time before i could identify with role models that looked like me. simply because there weren't many around. or rather, it wasn't something that wasnt 'out there'. Instead it was hidden away, the shameful taboo and curse of the tragic mulatto. from as long as i can remember and still to this day, i was always asked/forced to choose which category i belonged. It wasn't enough to state that i was proud of all sides of my complicated heritage. if i didn't choose, it was chosen for me. i could list most nationalities/races that i've been stamped with, and it used to irritate like hell - why was it so important for people to ask 'where are you from', 'why is your hair different', 'where are your parents from?', to all of which, my answers never satisfied their curiosity. to extend the complications, it didn't help those trying to classify me that not only was i born here, but like many other mixed kids of my generation, so were my parents. the stigma is that mixed race kids are 'confused' and 'lost', and although i'd angrily deny it in the past, although now i would have to agree. as a result of other people's need to classify me, i defiantly questioned who i was, where i was from and most critically, where i fitted in. it wasn't until i was 21 that things finally clicked into place. tired of being accepted or disowned by one, the other or multiples, i realised that i'd probably never 'fit in' anywhere, and so, to 'fit in' with myself was enough (despite the 'name calling' from all sides). gradually, more and more mixed race figures are apparent in our world, with their stories, experiences and empathy that mirrored mine.

i'll never forget in 2001 a landmark where i filled in my census form, and rather than the usual 'other' box, there was a category entitled 'mixed race'. seems such a little thing, but it meant so much to be acknowledged to exist, rather than be banished to the 'other' box. I've no need to draw upon Said's work on Orientalism here, but i'm sure you can empathise that whilst we are conditioned to existing within racial boundaries, it's the human condition to want a box of one's own.

to relay this to my humble opinion; of a mixed race president that straddles and race, culture and nationality in our time couldn't be more ponigant. issues of identity, belonging and representation are constantly being called into question. it's a fact that mixed race is the US and UKs fastest growing 'ethnic minority' group. It is this, that is the reason for my need to acknowledge the new president as being of mixed race, not to disassociate with his 'black' or 'white' side. but to accept him for who he is. This is the future, and I hope one day there will be no need for boxes!

the plight of the tragic mulatto

2008-10-09T10:04:00.000+01:00

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tragic_mulatto

Not sure why i'm starting on this topic...probably because i feel it's an elephant in the room of my head, and although i tiptoe past it frequently, i've yet to justify dedicating time and exploration to the subject.

I've been having some late late nights recently. Mind doesn't want to shut off, and instead i find myself lurking on other people's blogs (text, photo and video) on the topic of what it is to me Mixed Race/Multiracial/Biracial/Half-Caste/Half-Breed/Clear/Red/Yellow/Mulatto/Mestizo/Cafuzos/Zambo/Marabou/Métis/Mestiço/Casta/Mongrel etc. It's been a comfort to realise there are so many people in the world that have had this shared experience. I can only compare it to discovering a whole new food staple you've never experienced before, then gorging on it with the urgency of an addiction.

So.

What i realised is that the majority of these blogs had been written by Americans. So i'm offering up my two pence. because i live in England (currently). I'm interested in idea of a mixed race diaspora, and although i'm still not comfortable with what 'terms' to use, i'll try my best to explore this topic, and everything in between.

When i feel like it.

Of course, there will undoubtedly be other ramblings, because that's how i roll.

Until then...

the littlest hobo