KEEP ON MOVING (the time will come for the rain)
Los Angeles. Hot summer night in the city. Insomnia squeezes, but it don't choke. Back II Life acapella in the headphones. I'm down, take a look around. Sirens blend in the background...187? 211? 2:40, the beat finally drops in. However do you want me? How (ever) do you need me?
Flashback to the basement club in Minneapolis - Stage One used to play this cut sometimes. I was so happy just to walk to the club at night by myself. Listen. Then walk home alone. Solitary refinement.
Flash further back to NYC. Tuesday nights, Bar XVI, Evil Dee and Mr. Walt. It was just a little hole in the wall. Same shit, hope over the Williamsburg bridge by myself, walk in the spot, kick back. Listen. Go home alone.
This year I feel like I'm wasting away inside this house, my youth is slipping away from me, and I can feel it. Steady, are you ready?
Flash way back to 1989. When I was with Stephan. When we were in love. When he was still alive. My first time hearing Soul II Soul I was with him. Why when I was 15 did I have love, a man, a car, and a home? I don't have any of those today. Cold fresh air, feel the melody that's in the air.
I know why Stephan and I broke up. But I'll never know what made him tie a noose for himself, or take that last slip into darkness. I'll always wonder. What made me strong enough to carry on? Even after so much has gone wrong for me, after the bottom has dropped out of my life time and time again...I'm still here.
I live at the top of the block, there's no more room for anything more. I'll state my name, my claim to fame. Look, it's more writing on the wall. Tell me...however, do you want me? I wonder?
Back to life? Back to reality.
Some Fake Shit VS. THAT REAL
Will the REAL B-Girls please stand up? Or bust some floor work?Big up ASIA ONE, PEPPA, G.I. JANE, LADY CHAMP, and all the rest!
Bastardization of a B*Girl - Part I
On a telephonic two-woman consciousness-raising session this morning, Rachel Raimist soon-to-be-PhD and I did our usual brainstorm-connect-feminist-powers-activate mindmeld and magical things started happening. I suddenly received an email from California's largest adult-entertainment company asking me to interview for their office manager position; she simultaneously received a mysterious e-missive from an anomoly/anonymous video-network insider to make immediate contact.
Outside looking in, we've been there, done that. On the surface, we've scratched underneath it, next. Behind the scenes? We've both made that scene, and then some, for far too long. But undercover? Don't think I won't do it. The spook who sat by the whore...oh wait maybe I've already worked that job...
Cryptic femisms to the side (aren't they always?), HOUSTON WE HAVE A PROBLEM.
For years I hesitated to label myself a B-Girl because I am neither a Bronx girl nor a Break girl, although I do possess a modicum of footwork and what a professional B-Girl would call "Hip Hop Dance skills". But I'm a purist. Of course I'm a dyed-in-the-wool, to-the-heart, Mi-Vida-Loca B-Girl in more ways than one; I have the Hip Hop tattoo on the back if you're confused about my pedigree.
So in the name of sisterhood, and trying to retain the bit of Queenliness/Royalty that we women of the Hip Hop Generation posess, a few years back I said fuck it; if you're down for this struggle and you're not a total bitch; if you didn't start listening to Hip Hop when Diddy re-invented the re-mix ghostproduction...you're a B-Girl.
Because, here's the rub. B-Girl is one of the only positive attributes we have left. I'm blessed with cultured, refined gentlemen around me who address me as Queen. But let's fact facts, most women my age (and most are younger by half) are getting called another B-word, and it's bitch, if it's not beee-yotch.
A B-Girl is bold. A B-Girl is beautiful. A B-Girl is someone who cares about this culture. A B-Girl might listen to Nelly as a guilty pleasure, or watch a T.I. video 'cause he's Plan B. A B-Girl might have a pair of tight jeans, or a favorite pair of heels or sandals; she might employ a weeve or braids or other hair magic to acheive her look now and then. She might get her M.A.C. on every once in a while just to remind ya'll she knows how to give good face.
A B-Girl, above all else, is intricate, mysterious, complex, and BEGUILING. She might use her skills to pay the bills, but she ain't got to use what she got just to get what she want. A B-Girl knows that she might not get what she wants, but she shall proceed to get what she needs.
B-Girl Asia One talked about Headspin Janet as one of the first B-Girls. Crazy Legs RSC mentioned her name as well. Historically B-Girls got their start in the Bronx and elsewhere in New York. Some were down with Rocksteady Crew, some were Zulu Queens. And those ladies could Break...in some cases better, stronger, and faster than the B-Boys.
I think Headspin Janet passed away, and some of the other First Ladies of Breaking have also gone back to the essence. And I know that as sick as BET's "B-Girls" have made me to my stomach, this shit probably has them rolling over in their grave.
So if you love Hip Hop, and you're tired of tired hoes masquerading as cultural constituents, I think it's time to hit up BET and let them know where Hip Hop lives.
And while this B-Girl flick isn't my favorite representation (especially now that some random chick will be the "star", at least it shows the true struggle of a break girl. And like Julia Phillips said, "if you can't be best, be first".