Emil is chronicling his experiences while learning cool and important skills such a photography, blogging, and video editing. These are all skills that my first-year writing students get to develop each year in my Tech and Sensibility class, and increasingly, young people will need to know these basics as more tech makes its way into the classroom.

But the thing that I really enjoy about reading Emil's blog is that you get a clear sense of his voice. This is important for kids. Emil is funny and engaging.

Let me know what you think. More importantly, leave a message of encouragement for Emil.

Okay, so I'm a little late in posting, but here goes. I have not had a chance to edit the video, however, so watch at your peril…

Last week, I moderated a panel discussion, "Women in Technology," at the University of Virginia's Darden School. My panelists, Adrienne Graham, Shireen Mitchell, and Angie Brement were amazing. Though the event was sparsely attended, the conversations were engaging, enlightening, and telling. Again, although we did not "pack the house" (which is really difficult to do on a tiny diversity budget–hint, hint Darden), I was made aware of the need for greater visibility for women who have been working in technology for years.

Women in tech is not a new phenomenon. We did not suddenly sprout from the head of hung-over god

I am appending a portion of my opening remarks for the event. Please let me know what you think…and how we can move the conversation into action.

"So, I return to that day several months ago, when the Twitterverse seemingly erupted with women who had finally found the means to address a major misconception—that we were invisible. The responses, articulated by women such as our first speaker, Shireen Mitchell, were framed in a simple question: Where have you been looking? Others simply asked, “Have you been looking?”

The panelists include:

• Angie Brement, photographer, entrepreneur and blogger for Cville Entremoms.

• Adrienne Graham, founder and CEO of Empower ME! Corporation, a professional networking company for women.

• Shireen Mitchell, entrepreneur and chair of the Media and Technology Task Force of the National Council of Women’s Organizations.

The event is free and open to everyone but reservations are requested. Please RSVP at:
http://spreadsheets.google.com/viewform?formkey=dGs0U2NkS1ZvZzlHZnZjOUJaZlRfcHc6MA

Awk-ward. Plus, I’m pretty sure some folks have avoided eye contact with me since then.

I make no secret of the fact that I watch reality shows, when I’m not working on my dissertation or writing and editing the Techwatch section of Black Enterprise magazine.

BET's Tiny and Toya? Yep. Frankie and Neffie? Occasionally. Real Housewives of Atlanta? Is there another RH? Tool Academy. Top Model (despite the recent “smise” madness), Project Runway, Surreal Life and the monster that started it all for many of us…Flavor of Love. Really, Equiano? you might ask. Well, let’s just say that a former housemate once banned me from yelling out "Flavor Flav" and “Yeah, boyeee” in his presence. Nuff said.

Now, don’t get me wrong. When I say that I “love” rTV, it’s not the sort of love that implies “high art” in the traditional sense. And it's not the kind of love I have for tech gadgets. But when I watch certain shows, particularly those centered on the lives of black women, I do think of Claude McKay’s Home to Harlem, Ann Petry’s The Street, and Gwendolyn Brooks’s “The Mother,” “Annie Allen,” apartment stoops and kitchenettes; and I think of Ntozake Shange’s for colored girl who have considered suicide when the rainbow is enuf.

We might quibble about what constitutes “reality” or even "art" in this case; certain scenes and scenarios in rTV appear (and frequently are) “scripted” or contrived. But there is no denying the real and often raw emotions that come across the screen as black women attempt to reshape their lives and their images in the public sphere.

At this particular moment in our media-saturated lives, rTV provides something that for many, may be missing–one only has to witness the build-up to and disappointment with CNN's Black in America, for example to get a sense of what might be at play. In a recent conversation Afronetizen's Chris Rabb points out that the plethora of black-focused celebrity gossip sites and blogs could very well be an indication of the failure of mainstream media to tell relevant black stories. (You can read more of Chris's comments in the November issue of Black Enterprise magazine.)

I am looking at how these women are using the media (TV, Web, and publishing) in smart and productive ways. Watch the transition Toya is making from teenage mom and former wife to reality show star to author. Or the powerful and poignant story of Keshia Cole's struggle to reunite her family (I now keep track of her updates on Facebook).

Whether we are turned on or are tuning out, we have to admit one thing: the combination of TV, Web, and social media provide powerful tools for many black women to finally have voice–whether or not we want to listen. But by the looks of the ratings, I'm betting we do. Let's not feel guilty about it.

Last week, I wrote about security and privacy and posed a few questions to readers. But as I thought about my encounter with “Chad,” I kept replaying the scene in my head; and what I realized is that it mirrored to some degree, a now infamous one: Henry Louis Gates and I had a lot in common, it seems. Now that the furor of that “teachable moment” has died down, I can clarify my muddled thoughts. But before you cue the laughter, hear me out.

To refresh: Chad was selling home monitoring systems door-to-door (though my brother-in-law swears he was casing the joint). When I opened the door, Chad first queried, “Are you the owner of the house?” to which I responded in the affirmative. Chad began his spiel, paused, frowned, and asked again, “You said you were the owner, right?” I replied, (again) “Yes.” After the third query, it became clear to me that Chad was having a difficult time comprehending black home ownership. His sales pitch slowed, he glanced behind me, then around. It was obvious: “She’s lying.” I thought he might ask for proof of residence. Or call for backup. For a second, I though my white neighbor had, indeed, played a cruel joke on me…

Which brings me to Henny G. In my addled brain, I began to play out a fantasy: WWSD? Certainly, I would have been offended, angry. And rightly so. Overreacted? A tad. Traumatized? You bet, given, well, you know, I’m Henny G. I might even have been tempted to do some signifying, call up Wilmer Valderama for some “Yo mama” advice. Thinking about “the incident” in social media terms, though, here’s what I would have done.

I: Ownership

Had I been Henny G, I would have retreated to the solace of a friend’s home for a few days (the trauma of the incident being far too painful for me to remain in the Harvard-owned residence). From the privacy of, say, Martha’s Vineyard, I might craft a plan. I might have decided that I would not turn to CNN or NBC or ABC or any mainstream media outlet for validation of my injury. I didn’t need to. Instead, TheRoot.com would be the single source of information on the incident (supplemented by my mug shot and the police report, of course). I would own the story.

II: Credentials

I might have crafted a different narrative. I probably would not have said that my situation was just like that of most black men in America, because I would know that is not the case. Most suffer far worse fates. I probably would have said something like, “I’ve worked hard to achieve what I have…I realize that despite my hard work and achievements, at the end of the day, I am still just an ordinary black man, subject to the same whims of racist ideology and practices as other black men and women far less privileged than I. Nevertheless, I am speaking from a place of privilege…” (Henny is far more eloquent than I could ever be, but you get the idea). I would have said that given my position, I want to talk about those hundreds of thousands of black men and women, not myself. Maybe. I might have mentioned the body of my work (“Just Google me, baby”). I might have mentioned that part of the reason I launched TheRoot.com was to engage Americans in alternative modes of discourse, to present a different view—to move beyond the narrow coverage and the sensational into thoughtful conversations about issues such as race, class, culture, democracy, politics, religion, language…the site is in its early stages, but growing…again, the real Henny G would be much more eloquent on this topic than I ever could.

III: Leverage

This is where I believe President Obama’s “teachable moment” comes in. Because I own the means of communication as well as the story, I now have the opportunity and responsibility to leverage it. This Teachable Moment was not the president’s but Gates’s, the Teacher. Here’s a Gates quote I pulled from Wikipedia: “Asked by NEH Chairman Bruce Cole to describe his work, Gates responded, ‘I would say I'm a literary critic. That's the first descriptor that comes to mind. After that I would say I was a teacher. Both would be just as important.’”[5] Hmmm…

Had I been Henny G, I would have accepted the president’s invitation to the White House to share a beer and conversation with officer Chad, er, Crowley. I would have shown up with lovely gifts of Harvard gear, say, T-shirts for the officer and his children and signed copies of, oh, I don’t know, the Norton Anthology of African American Literature, a copy of The Signifying Monkey, a 2Live Crew CD (okay, that might be pushing it). I would have worn my snazziest Harvard tie AND pin. Certainly, I would be tempted to wear a Harvard T-shirt, but I would save that for my visits to Africa—it’s a more casual crowd over there.

While at the White House, I might have been tempted to Tweet about the beer summit (“Crowley’s hands are cold and clammy,” “Wow, the president is really tall,” “I’m drinking this beer, but boy, a chardonnay would be great right about now” “Dude, I can see Baltimore from here!!!”). I probably would have packed an HD mini and created a few videos. Perhaps the officer (and his numerous reps) would be interested in talking about life in Cambridge, his work, how he views the situation? Maybe I could score a visit to his diversity training session? And TheRoot.com would have been the source.

Certainly, the incident brought much publicity and traffic to the site. But I believe mainstream orgs benefited far more because Gates missed an opportunity to teach. This was a lesson not just about race and class in America (not to mention property) but also about African Americans and our relationship to technology. The lesson for us all is that we need to own our stories and leverage the technology resources we have and are quite capable of using, given that most are free (Twitter, Facebook, blogs, vlogs, etc.) to create the kinds of conversations and results that we want to have.

It seems to me that even when we own the story and the means of communicating that story, we still feel compelled to seek validation from mainstream. And that’s troubling. It means that we have not given ourselves permission to articulate or own stories.

-END SCENE-

File this one under “Why Sonya shouldn’t read old email threads”

Remember that episode of the Cosby Show, when Theo brings home Ds and makes the argument to Cliff that he should love him because he’s his son? Theo just wants to be  “regular people,” and regular people don’t need to excel, right? I’ll refresh your memory. Remember how stupid you felt when, after you applauded Theo's heartfelt speech, Cliff said, "That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard in my life?"

So this morning, I'm reading  email from a PR rep who had previously connected me with the CEO of a pretty cool company. Good guy, great technology. I wanted them to connect me with African American entrepreneurs and small businesses using their product. It took them a while, but he sent me a lovely email saying he’d found a couple of people willing to talk about how they use the products, results, challenges, etc. Cool enough. But since our  communications had pretty much happened in a fog for me, I decided to rewind. (I had done the interview with a migraine the size of Nebraska, followed up by an ear infection and removal of four wisdom teeth–recovering in a Vicodin haze with the first chapter of my dissertation due. Yeah, that's my life.)

The PR rep’s previous email mentioned that he had spoken with SEVERAL DOZEN African American entrepreneurs and small businesses that used their product (several dozen seems a stretch, but he's a good guy, so I'll buy it for a nickel), but that many did not want to participate in my story for fear of revealing their “secret sauce.”

CUE THE RAGE:  Are you kidding me? So these Theos have found a tool that works really well for them, and in this environment of social networking, in which sharing is the smart thing to do because it means growth and survival, they are quite comfortable being "regular people."  You know, getting Ds, hoping we'll just love them because they're well…you know.

I'm not mad because they don't want to speak with me. I'm sure some had legitimate reasons for not wanting their companies to be featured in the mag.  I am also sensitive to the fact that black companies can be vulnerable in certain business spaces (especially technology), and publicity can make them ever more so.  But the crabs-in-a-bucket reasoning just gets me. Really, black people? Hate to break it to you, but the company's technology is a secret only to you. What "secret" are you keeping? From whom?

For the two companies who stepped up and agreed to share their "secret," THANK YOU. Folks can read about them in Black Enterprise magazine and on the site . Hopefully, their generosity and experiences will help others–and them–succeed.

And for the Theos…here's a present for you.

++++++++

On a completely unrelated tangent, Im using Zemanta to write this post, and pics of Frederick Douglass keep popping up. WTH??? (and yes, this is the radio version of my blog)