Blogblast for Peace (special thanks to Mojo the person)

Like most everything about me, folks.... its rough but sincere.

How many of you hear me say PEACE at the end of a phone call or message when you see this at the top of my blog? Those of you that don’t hear me leave messages, I’m sorry I don’t know how to write it. Likely it sounds a hair more like Pace than Peeeece as I’m not so much with the annunciation most of the time. There is a drop in the inflection with an emphasis on the vowel sound. pEAce! Think rap video stuff from the early 90’s. Much of my life in the early 90’s was like a rap video…

And it was in the early 90’s that I picked the expression up. Peace. Peace Out. It was a standard way for a good homegirl/boy to end a convo or a letter. And because I’m getting older and there are always some things that older people never let go of I still say it. And because even the mighty academy can’t beat the hood rat out of me, I still pretty much sound the same when I say it. But I must admit, it has a different meaning to me at 33 than it did at 15.

Somewhere around my doctoral program, I started to think about what the word means. Considering the book I just published with my advisor is about discourse analysis, that’s no surprise, really. Thinking about words is what I do. That time in my life was pivotal. The day I got accepted into the program was the day our country went to war.

Do I think war is wrong and unjust? Sure. I’m a pretty good liberal. Far left liberal even. I don’t believe in the death penalty. I do believe in gay marriage. All the things that freak out my in laws. For me, however, peace isn’t about an end to the war. At least not this war.

I’m seldom passive. Seldom quiet. Seldom what you would think of as peaceful. You can poke your head into my classroom on any given day and hear, “Son. Unless you want that pencil to wind up somewhere very uncomfortable….stop tapping it while I am talking.” No. I don’t think I’m exactly what you’d call a peacenik… at least in the traditional sense. But my favorite shirt has a recycle symbol, an earth, and a peace sign. Everyone knows that that is my thing. Peace. pEAce.

My peace sign t shirts with my big butt, flashy Nikes, less than natural makeup and my trademark ghetto hoop earrings. I look like I borrowed someone else’s clothes.
I keep telling people I’m complex.

My whole thing about peace (pEAce) isn’t about wars in the traditional sense, but it does go back to that pivotal time when I started back to school and we went to war. I felt like I went to war. I had blindly bumped my way through the entire process of applying to the doc program. Making one stupid ill informed but very polite call after another. It took me damn near six months to get my stuff in. I knew so little about anything that I didn’t know graduate assitanceships existed. I didn’t know what ABD was. What a dissertation was. What an advisor was. I knew nothing. And certainly, I didn’t know that high heeled knee boots, a shorter (not mini, but above the knee) length skirts (and those ghetto hoops) were not standard doc student attire. Especially for the first interview. I figured it out when the student interviewed before me walked out in wrinkled khakis and a sweater. No make up. Hair plain. Certainly not red hair with blonde and purple highlighting. Gah. When I sat down and said to the room full of scholars who I’d stalked for years and said, “hi. How you folks all doin’?” I saw the exchanged amused glances and knew that I needed to sound a bit more…. Well, a little less like me.


I knew I had walked into a world that I had only suspected existed. And folks, it was so much worse that I could have imagined. I was so much different that I could have imagined. Except for my #3 brother, (who I met in this program and who’s words, “you know who you are” saved me more times that I can count)…no one was like me. Even the other students of color (and there were precious few) came from doctors and lawyers and government officials. On top of the pressure we faced with work and making careers, I had no idea who I was supposed to be in the academy.

For a time...there was no peace.

There was no peace in our country. In the world. I decided to work for peace. However I could get it.

Peace took on a new idea for me. Peace of mind. Peace inside. I took on a new identity inside the academy. I was Err, in the academy. This meant I was me, only my location changed. My hoodrat stubbornness and irreverent attitude stood firmly in the forefront of my identity. I brought back my swagger. I was a hard worker. My work was top notch. Professors called my advisor to report the high quality of my most recent papers. My attitude was my own. Phrases like, “how you gonna….” were heard for what was very likely the first time in seminars (I got a reputation for saying “the funniest things…” when I wasn't being funny at all). I used Friere and Anzaldua to argue against the hegemony of the white middle class standard in educative systems. I used words like hegemony. But on more than one occasion, I got called to the side and was told, “you should smile more.” I learned that a nod and “how you doin’?” did not successfully replace a cheesy grin and head tilt. I smiled at my ‘helpers’ and totally disregarded their info. I knew who I was and that was a step toward peace.

I fought tooth and nail to do good work in a community I cared about. Another step. At the cost of the big time change the world career in the academy for which I was being groomed, I chose to return to the classroom with the hope of keeping only one foot in the academy. This did not cause peace between myself and my advisor. But it was a huge step toward peace on a bigger scale. Because folks, there are wars out there that many folks concerned with World Peace don’t know about. Or choose to ignore.

Every night in my city someone gets capped. Its usually a young black male. Like my students. I work everyday for peace (and pEAce) in that world. Teaching kids to stay safe. Telling them to watch their back. Letting them know that they decide who they want to be. Reminding them every day to do the right thing. Threatening them with a month’s worth of something dirty and gross if I catch them fighting. Breaking up fights in a not too peaceful way and then not turning them in.
A step toward peace.
To end the urban genocide of gang warfare.

Every year, I give my lecture. About how we don’t use gay as a prejorative in my class. About how, “if you had 2 mamas wouldn’t you love them?’ Would you want someone to bust on them in my class? Wouldn’t that hurt you? Would you like it if everything that was lame, was called your name??? Those shoes is so Malik. That’s not fair! That’s just so Shaquan. Would you like that??” My voice trying not to break, I tell them about my student who killed himself because when he came out to his family they ridiculed him. I tell them THAT IS WHY YOU WILL NOT SAY THOSE WORDS IN MY CLASS.
For peace.

Maybe someday we’ll get peace throughout the world. For now, I’m just trying to be peace myself and get some peace on the block.