It's Friday night.  Long week.  So much playing on the screen of time and space. Watching the equivalent of a political Britney Spears, holding the high watch for spring, I've finally found my groove.

Over the last few days there has been much hand-wringing,mudslinging and all around body flinging from the cliffs of politics. It comes down to one thing.  Race.  It's a race thang.

It's  the last day in Black History month and I'm thinking that since I was fully conscious for most of the last sixty years I would share a small part of my Black History or in this case, herstory.  On being a strong black woman.

It's that time again.  You know when PBS starts with the King and Malcolm video(s) and HBO and Showtime replay their black movies and showcase shorts made by black film makers. This year we get an extra day and Black History is being played on nearly every station.

One of the things that all of us who participated in the Civil Rights Movement knew was that we might be able to get laws passed but we would never be able to legislate feelings.

We understood this.  People act out their feelings.  I believe that what we were trying to do was make it impossible for people to act on the feelings of bigotry and prejudice without breaking the law.  Over time laws tend to mitigate all but the most hostile of feelings. Modifies behaviors.  You didn't have to change how you felt about me.  The behavior had to change.  We foolishly thought this would be enough.  Sadly, we were wrong.

I know how hard it is to believe again. I had gotten so cynical that for the last few primaries I voted for the face in the Democratic Party that I wouldn't mind having to look at for four years.  In case you're wondering, this means Jackson,Gore,Edwards.  It seemed to me then that this was as good a system as any other.

This diary isn't about a candidate.  It's about a reaction to a time that has been too long coming. Like Sam sang, "It's been a long time coming, but a change gonna come."  'Bout time.

I started this year with a feeling of hope.  I could feel a sense of wonder and relief and gave it the name of a candidate.  Now, I realize it was so much more.  It was also the awareness that we are also listening to the sounds of the requiem for George W. Bush's residency at 1600 Pennsylvania.

As this political season started I wanted Al Gore to run with Obama as his running mate.  I still think of Al as our President in Exile and wanted him to have his chance at bat. You can't want something for someone that they don't want for themselves so I had to look elsewhere.

After initially leaning toward Edwards( I still like him) I decided that Barack Obama was it for me.  Here is why.

It's the first day of the new year and I'm trying to focus on the days and months ahead.  So much is going on. In two days we will see what is really happening in Iowa.  I have reason to hope.

There's been a lot of talk about what the republicans may or may not say about this candidate or the other.  Here is my take on the whole thing.

I am writing this diary and addressing it to young black men and women.  It may be hard to understand that the whites on this site don't have to write open letters to other whites because,well, because most of the people on this site are white. I am not excluding whites I am focusing on young blacks. White folk don't have to consider what it feels like to be white unless they are in a room with all blacks.  Just as straight folks don't often consider what it's like to be straight unless they go to a gay club.  That is the way of things.

This is the holiday season.   I've always gotten into the spirit of the season. I love that for a lean moment we can smile at and speak to strangers.  I like wishing folks well.  I am a celebratory creature by nature.  I love the celebration of this time of year.

The Winter Solstice whether we celebrate it as Christmas  or not is the season of more light coming into the world.  The days begin to lengthen imperceptibly at first, but lengthening nonetheless. This is the time of year when I start reflecting on life and living and where I've been and even where I'm going.  Winter is a natural time to do this for me.

This is also the political season.  That's another thing altogether. Huge chunks of me don't want to participate in the spirit of the political season when it turns real nasty.  Sometimes it gets real nasty on DK.

I've been thinking about  this season of politics and this community and stuff and such.  Thought I might share some of these thoughts with anyone who wants to read them.  In the spirit of what we call these entries I'm even going to start it...

Let's see...911...war on terror...Patriot Act...Homeland Security...Fisa...Gay Marriage...Immigration...Rising energy cost... What do all of these have in common???   Fear...Terror...

Etymology:
Middle English, from Anglo-French terrour, from Latin terror, from terrēre to frighten; akin to Greek trein to be afraid, flee, tremein to tremble — more at tremble
Date:
14th century

1. a state of intense fear2 a: one that inspires fear : scourge b: a frightening aspect <the terrors of invasion> c: a cause of anxiety : worry d: an appalling person or thing; especially : brat3: reign of terror4: violent or destructive acts (as bombing) committed by groups in order to intimidate a population or government into granting their demands <insurrection and revolutionary terror>

Lots of folks seem pretty pissed off at Hillary Clinton.  Though I do not plan to vote for her in the primaries, I'm not mad at her.

I've noticed that if a white woman disappears it's on all the channels all the time.  Not so with black women and women of color.  Michael Vick's cruelty to dogs got more coverage than any story about women of color being raped, murdered, tortured or tasered.  Like Fanny Lou Hamer, I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired.

I've been wondering what the Congress could do to stop the war immediately.  I think I've come up with one idea worth pursuing.

There has been much talk lately about the relationship between blacks and the Gay and Lesbian community.  Each has a perspective borne of challenge and difficulty.

This time of year thou mayest in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
In me thou see'st the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west,
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.
In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire,
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the death-bed whereon it must expire
Consum'd with that which it was nourish'd by.
This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong,
 To love that well which thou must leave ere long.
          Billy Shakespeare