A tar-painted female figure shines forks for a halo. Her arms have eyes. She’s holding a pair of old brown work boots as an offering. A second figure holds a banjo. She’s skating on top of an alligator that’s lying flat on a skateboard. A third wears electrical outlets for a dress. She’s about to explode. Her chicken legs and tiny feet are seemingly too fragile to support her swollen body. The lips of their cowrie shell mouths curl inward, …
Tag: blackface
This Ain’t Yo Muthafuckin’ Diary, Biatch 2018 was the year that TMG became more like my journal, scrapbook, family videos, and everything uncomfortable or Japan-related. It was a challenge to my introverted nature. Looking at all of last year’s TMG posts, I have zero regrets. Last year taught me that I have no desire to be a brand or a topic. It was an experiment, which helped me progress in unforeseen ways. Either commit and stick the landing or be …
Sorry for the long pause of posts. My daughter, Kantra was out of school and I’m working on some things that always get buried under writing assignments. Last month Huffpost published my personal article, “I’m Raising A Biracial Daughter In Japan, Where She’s Surrounded By Blackface.” I know I should’ve written a reaction to its reaction(s), but I had to counter the vertigo of retweets and likes. The world’s response was head-spinning. I had a TV reporter contact me about doing …
Just wrote an article about raising my daughter, Kantra in Japan. It’s up here. Watching her has inspired me and its forced me and my wife to grow in unforeseeable ways. Nothing humbles you like a determined child who doesn’t give a single solitary fuck about what you doing, what you need to do, or what you was about to do. “Daddy, play with me.” Got an essay that’s getting published. Hopefully it’ll drop soon. Won’t say who yet, but …
He pegged me a tourist taking flicks.“What’s it like?”It’s like crouching under the atmosphere to keep from scorching your head. Earth’s glowing curvature is a celestial levee, a barrier to the darkness. The stars are neon streets and heavenly islands of light. They are as real as phantom pain firing from a severed limb. You stand still, afraid of stepping on the people below. You’re always in the way. Sometimes all you see is the white of clouds. Up there is …
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