Turban Branding

by today’s Urban Chameleon contributor

Didchu know that after 911 the MTA (Metropolitan Transportation Authority) was requiring Sikh and Muslim workers who want to continue wearing turbans or any kind of headwear that they can only be blue and must be branded with an MTA logo.

WHAT?!!! Yes of course because a uniform has definitely stopped terrorist and mass killers in the past before. This kind of no sense nonsense kills me. If our best measures of precaution are to brand turbans we are in serious trouble. Not to mention this is just blatant disrespect to the Muslim community enforcing workers to represent a kind of scarlet letter because of the actions of an extremist group but please don't get it twisted Muslim does not = terrorist. If that’s the case shouldn’t every white man with the crazy twinkle in his eye looking like he’s going to shoot up the place where some kind of identification?AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH, DUCK!!! COVER YOURSELF!!!

Sorry, I thought I just saw a white man about to shoot.

Anyhow, the new news on this front is that the city council has joined the coalition in protesting this ridiculousnessness turban branding to have the rule turned over.

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Blame It On The AAAAAAAlcohole…

by today’s Urban Chameleon contributor

Why is it always deepness to get into the club?! Why do we so value and honor THE CLUB? And on a random note, why are Black people always mentally at the club? Take this man below for instance.














He’s at the club. I know in my thirty years on this planet I have never had that much of a mind blowing experience at the club that warrants my effort to continue to fight to get in and then fight to get a drink. In fact I probably have had more experiences where I’ve usually loss some bit of a dignity at the club.

Last night my cousin invited me out…to the club. Being that he knows just about every promoter in NYC he definitely doesn’t do lines so going out with him usually entails waiting by the door until his “boy” or “girl” comes out to get him but even that process can be deep. Like last night for instance, he almost got into a fight with another dude who was waiting by the door, I guess for his “boy” or “girl” to let him in. Ego crushed when he was asked to step aside so that my cousin and I could pass. This dude had to prevail and say something to my cousin, “Yo, you better not step on my kicks fam.” Of course this was a Black man, I mean what other culture gets that emotional about their sneakers.












My cousin had to try and restrain himself because business suit and all he has gotten into it with dudes before and it aint purrrty. (I’m convinced it’s the pretty boy complex, you know he’s light skinned with lights eyes, so he’s always on guard). Regardless, Black man testing Black man -someone’s ego is either being swallowed or someone is getting shot. Fortunately my cousin played the cool card and just responded, “It’s all good playboy” but not before a very intense 40 second stare down.

Once inside you would not believe what I saw, it was absolutely unbelievable, riveting and mind blowing. Get a load of this, music was playing and people were drinking. That’s it people nothing more special than that. It was the club so why are we so obsessed? Don’t you know we found ourselves encountering yet another altercation- this time my cousin was holding back some other random dude who had broken a bottle against the side of the bar and was ready to cut this dude. Apparently one dude had bumped his drink against the other dude causing some droplets of Hennessy to splash upon the outfit. Can we just assume that this was accident? I mean this is what happens when you know…you’re at the club! Every time I go to the club I think I will not be back. List or no list it’s just too deep. But then enough time passes and someone I know always says to me, “You know what we should do tonight? Hit the club.”

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Did She Just Call Me A Nigger?

by today's Urban Chameleon contributor

It was a Friday night and my two friends and I decided to meet up after work at Rosa Mexicano in the city and catch up. I had gotten out a little earlier than usual and decided to do some shopping at Zara picking up a fabu raincoat and some new tops. When I got to dinner I of course had to put on a mini fashion show for my girls before we got into deep conversation mode. One of my friends just started a new job so she had lots to tell us about her new corporate life, and gave us a complete break down of everyone in her office. No matter how are conversations begin, it always some how transitions back to us reassessing our lives sometimes celebrating how far we’ve come and sometimes beating our selves up for not being further along. Tonight we were in celebration mode toasting to all of our good fortunes.

When it was time to leave, we walked over to Park Ave and 22nd to wait for two cabs. They were sharing a cab to go uptown and I was headed to Brooklyn. We managed to flag two cabs down, which pulled up back to back for us but when I quickly turned away to wave goodbye to my friends this white woman was headed into my cab. I said “Oh hell no I know she saw me.” So I quickly rushed passed her and said, “Excuse me miss this cab pulled over for me.” Next thing I know she shoves me inside the cab bumping my head against the opening of the door and then I really said “OH HELL NO” so I began to kick the shit out of her. She manages to catch my leg in mid third kick, which at that point we were just throwing blows at each other, her with one arm still around my right leg and the other arm bumping against my fists in the mix of all of my Zara shopping bags. Next thing I know the woman flies back on some Matrix reloaded tip landing on to the ground. My girls had come to my rescue, one had grabbed her shoulder the other pulled an old school move and had grabbed her by her ponytail. I closed the door to my cab and my friends, one in her bedazzled, jeweled flip flops and the other in her red leather mini skirt scooted back into their cab. The woman who was now completely flustered on the ground and still cabless yells out, “YOU NIGGERS!” as we drive away.

We immediately called each other from our cabs dying laughing at the irony of what just happened.

Did we really just get into a fight and have to jump this crazy woman on Park Avenue? I mean rightfully so, she was dead wrong. But damn I haven’t been in a fight since I was twelve and in the projects at that. I had to ask the cab driver if he did in fact pull over for me which he said he did and then asked if I was alright. I thought to myself was he just saying that because he was afraid I would call my girls back and jump him? Hahahahah. Oh lawdy a Friday night gone awry. I got to get to church this Sunday.


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