Uhuru Magazine: November 2009

Monday, November 30, 2009

UHURU Fashion: Couture Chic

Photography by Rachel Kilroy
Styling by Ashley Morgan & Rashonna Duett
Hair by Ashley Morgan
Make-up by Ryan Robinson

Written By Dwayne Yates
Photos by Kyle Roerink
UHURU Magazine

Naijee Patterson is a 15-year-old Cleveland native who lost his friend “Big Baby” to gun violence a week before he marched in Basheer Jones’ rally against violence November 21.
“He and his two other friends were walking, and a dude named Marco came behind him and shot him because he didn’t like where he was from,” Patterson said.
This is the first time Patterson has marched in anything except a parade, but this is Jones’ second rally against violence in East Cleveland this year. People lined up at the corner of 79th and St. Clair and marched to 82nd and Hough. Almost 300 people marched and yelled down the grey pavement in unison for less violence and more peace.
Even some spectators were so moved by the what they were seeing, they joined in the march.
“People just need to get the message that violence is nonsense,” Patterson said. “It’s no need for it. It’s bad for the community. I get tired of all these mothers and fathers crying. It’s hurting our neighborhood.”
Stephanie Pope also participated in the march. She is a parole officer, and she has never marched before. She said she was excited to be marching for a good cause.
“Six of my clients have died in the last two years--30 and under--and most of them to gun violence,” Pope said. “It’s important to get as many people as you can out to stand up against violence because our young people are dying everyday.”
She said she feels that the march could be a start to a change in the attitudes of the people of Cleveland.
“People can stand up and march all day, but until people become active it’s not going to change anything,” she said. “Maybe it’ll bring awareness and make people think about it more and then maybe they will want to be a part of the process.”
Pope said she would like to see a mentoring program start in the community to mentor the youth and provide guidance. She said a lot of them are lost and do not have family and parents like others do, which makes them believe that a life of crime is all right to lead.

Monday, November 16, 2009

Sex Column: Seven Minutes in Heaven

Photo from Voice of Words
Written by: The Jaguar
When most people wake up, the first thing they look at is their alarm clock or their phone for some sign of the time. But when I wake up, I don’t always want to know what time it is. If it where up to me, there would be no clocks. So people could make love all day long and not worry about being late for anything. If clocks ceased to exist, maybe guys would last longer. And guys, if there were no longer clocks, women could no longer utter: “Not tonight, I have an early class.” To me, clocks are a key component in what makes sex so rushed and not fulfilling. Don’t get me wrong, quickies are always wonderful. (Once before my piano recital, I did a quickie and I swear my crescendos went higher than ever.) If I look at the time anyway, chances are it’s after 11:30 a.m.
Instead of the clock, the first thing I see is two opened Trojan Magnums and one flavored condom wrapper on the floor in my room, the guy who put on the condoms downstairs on the couch and my black Victoria’s Secret bra downstairs in my roommates purse. I try to assess the night. Why in the world would a gorgeous, perfectly fit boy be sleeping downstairs? Why does my roommate have my bra in her purse? I shrug it off. Who knows. I walk past the kitchen and trip over glasses of malt beverages, clear a section of the counter from shot glasses and pour a cup of 7UP. Hungover. I then wake up the beautiful man, ask him when he’s leaving. Grab my bra from my roommates’ purse and head back upstairs to clean my room full of condom wrappers, misplaced clothing and spilled drinks.
According to my trusty threaded iPhone text, me and my roommate ending up playing a drinking game that resulted in maximum stripping. After the strip show me and they boy went upstairs for the main attraction that lasted a grand total of seven minutes. Turns out, I booted the man downstairs, due to lack of longevity. I then wrote myself an excuse list for the first time, including the classic line of “I have to wake up early tomorrow, sorry. “
On a scale of one to ten, this night was a three. After all, it did happen on tame Tuesday.
I did, however, throw the excuse list away (I’m not the type of girl to turn down sex) and gave the guy another chance. Like wine, it gets better with time. So what is the moral of this story? (And yes, sex can have morals!)
The next time you have sex, please don’t think about the time, think about the moment. Think about the passionate feelings, the inimitable connection.
I am your new Uhuru columnist specializing in men (and yes, women) sex , relationships, sexual education and sex humor. And if you don’t agree with me, minute man, perhaps you should wake up!