Last summer, I was working on a YouTube series with two friends.
The series was blah at best. We had no direction and no real idea of where this was going. It was a constructive way to fill our time and think we were really doing something. It was a “talk show” YouTube series where we interviewed interesting people in Richmond, Virginia. But we didn’t have any guests lined up. And once the show started, we didn’t have a list of guests waiting. The unpreparedness and “winging it” attitude conflicted with my meticulous methods.
But I'm a hustla. I'm going to go get it.
For the second week of the show, I went to an artist showcase for local artists that a frat brother had put together. I found an artist who agreed to go on the show. Like a real artist -- if he doesn't sell his paintings, he isn't eating. We needed guests and I went out and found one. I got him because his art was good. He is openly homosexual, but I didn't care about his sexuality because he's not here to discuss that. He's here to talk about his art. His sexuality is his own business, I thought, and there's no reason to discuss it at length.
My friends were not here for it.
They (we'll call them Po Boy and Euro) asked me to make sure the artist was not going to discuss his lifestyle, and not talk about the biggest news of the summer: same-sex marriage becoming legalized nationwide. They did not want to have a real conversation on being an openly gay Black man and all that entails. Instead they played it safe, and it made for an okay interview.
The exposure for him was great. He has hella followers on Instagram and we expected the interview to get a lot of love, and it did. Months later, he made a portrait of a very popular reality TV star and she put it on her Instagram. That’s wash poppin’.
Po Boy and Euro made some really nasty, degrading comments in private about the artist's life: his personal style, his eccentric selfies and how he had a boyfriend. They, two straight men, talked about him, a gay man, a lot in private conversation. They were on his Instagram every now and then when he came across their timeline, and looked at his shirtless selfies and poses with his boyfriend. This was the same summer that Bruce Jenner made the transition to Caitlyn. Again. I don't think it's a big deal. I supported it. If he felt better about himself and his life if he were to become a woman, I support that. Who are me to judge?
Po Boy and Euro did judge. They judged Caitlyn just like they judged the artist. They despise his lifestyle - yet they talked about it so often.
Black men, if we are engaging in violent behavior against the LGBTQ and women, we are no different than the people who are holding us back.
That means having to have uncomfortable conversations with our problematic friends.
The first uncomfortable conversation happened at Buffalo Wild Wings of all places. Po Boy and Euro liked to have their "meetings" at B Dubs for whatever reason. While there, we ran into "Hakeem" and "Henny P. Newton." Newton is a guy who has gotten a lot of my respect because he's a Woke Black man who seems to be on the right side of this issue. Hakeem is my best male friend and I was surprised he joined with Newton in the argument. Hakeem and Newton argued Po Boy and Euro could take the show and be interesting, entertaining, engaging. Everything that it currently wasn't.
"Why not talk about the Caitlyn Jenner issue?" Newton and Hakeem said.
"We don't want that gay shit associated with our brand," Po Boy and Euro argued.
Po boy referred to the Supreme Court's decision to allow same-sex marriage in all states as "bullying." He said he felt bullied by the LGBTQ community pushing their agenda on the public.
Their pride made him uncomfortable.
I'm soft spoken, and all four of them are loud as hell so they can speak over the music and sports on the TV. When we got back to Po Boy's apartment, I wanted to finish the conversation and let it be known where I stood.
I was uncomfortable with the jokes about the artist. I was uncomfortable with them calling Caitlyn Jenner “he.” Because it was problematic and close minded.
Not too long after that, the show had only one good episode. It was two vs. one for the rest of the show's life. Later, I accepted a job offer down in Danville, Virginia and that was that for my role on the show.
I was in Richmond because I had lost a job, and then lost myself. Down in Richmond, I found my voice and found the confidence to align myself on what I believe is right … Even if I lose some friends. I learned about the LGBTQ community, feminism, male privilege, misogynoir, and all of those topics because it made no sense to me how they get treated differently because of their sex, gender or sexual preference.
Later, I learned that I was becoming “woke.” But learning information can’t be the end of the “woke” process. You should share what you’ve learned.
No one looks at a pack of wolves and tries to figure out “which one of them is the nice one who won’t tear me apart.” They are all the same. They hang together. So, if all of your friends engage in fuck nigga behavior, guess what? That’s who you are. I ain’t a fuck nigga, but I hang out with them, so I’m guilty by association. I am no better than they are by sitting back and allowing their actions to carry on.
Sometimes it’s just words, but words can leave a lasting influence on a person’s self esteem.
I had a friend tell me this about street harassment (which is a public safety issue btw): the only thing you can do is educate yourself and educate your friends. The latter can make for a lonely time; I’m talking about losing people you’ve known for years.
But what is worse than that, is people losing their liberty and their lives to ignorant people.
People I used to call friends.
Used to.
Michael Livingston so happens to be one of the cool kids. He stays woke, loves the people, and he definitely writes for food. Follow him and his words on Instagram and Twitter at @mikelive06.
Friday, August 26, 2016
Wednesday, August 24, 2016
A Man And His Game
Lately, I’ve been seeing an increasingly negative opinion of my women against one of my favorite hobbies/past times: video gaming.
Now, let me preface this by a bit of context.
I was brought up in a single parent home. For the largest majority of my life, it was me, my mother, my older sister and at times my grandmother. Yeah, I grew up the only boy in a household of strong, matriarchal women. I have no complaints! I took the dog out, fixed the wifi, screwed in bolts, raked leaves, took the trash out and many other duties befitting the “man of the house” label and expectations, even from a young age.
With that said, growing up with all women was an experience. Lifetime movies were the bane of my existence. I’d never really got to watch what I wanted to watch on tv unless my older sister wanted to watch it, too (I remember racing home from school to make sure I could control the remote so we could watch toonami while doing our homework, and hoping that she would agree to watching Dragon Ball Z or Gundam Wing) but if that wasn’t the case, or my mom was home, we would simply watch what she wanted to watch. Times like this I learned to go in another room, read a book, maybe go outside if it was during the day- Basically find ways to entertain myself, whether it be with my action figures, or other imaginary things I filled my time with.
But then, one day everything changed. It was Christmas, actually, if I remember correctly. My dad came through and brought his usual assortment of gifts. My parents always tended to find a way to get along with each other for birthdays and holidays, luckily…but that’s beside the point. One of the gifts my dad had for me was a Sega Genesis. I had seen one before, he had one at his house. And I would play it when I went to stay the night over my cousin's house or something like that…but this one, was all mine. My dad brought me two games: the original Sonic the Hedgehog, and X-Men: Escape from Asteroid M (or whichever one it was where you could play as Gambit and the first level was the wild lands)…my dad told me, “Don’t let these women drive you crazy. Take that little tv in the middle room and escape. This is for you.”
In my young age, I didn’t quite understand the totality of what he meant, but as time went on, I realized that my video game was the only thing in life that was all mine. The girls didn’t really care for it (although, in later years my sister got eerily proficient at beating my ass in Tekken…I'll still never figure that part out). This was everything to me. Even with my action figures, my sister would draft them into her barbie day time stories and I’d happily play along, playing the roles of my action figures…it was just nice to have someone to play with. But my video games were mine. All mine.
Which brings me to the topic of this article.
Let your man play his video games.
Just let him. I get it. You want his attention. You work hard, and how dare he not recognize your magic or your queenly glow every waking second of the day, or even on demand? This is flawed thinking. Just like you, he fights battles every day that you would never know about. He may not complain. He may compartmentalize. He may deal with stress in his own way.
OR
He may wait until he gets home and can escape from it all.
He may be looking forward to knowing he can come home to a good woman who loves him and supports him and is willing to listen to any issues he has, but he may honestly rather not worry you with his petty issues or complaining. (us men aren’t really conditioned to complain…but that’s for another day, another article)
He may look forward to coming home and melting the face off an alien with SMG fire. Or meeting a friend online for a game of 2k where he can live out his childhood dreams. Or traveling to an alternate reality where he can be his childhood hero. Or….I could go on.
See, being a gamer does not mean he doesn’t love you. Or isn’t interested in spending time with you. And I can't speak for all men, so please take this article where it applies, but for some men, gaming is what keeps us sane. We see how fucked up the world is, just as much as our Queens do. And even though many of us fail at it, our charge is to not only strongly navigate this world, but protect our women who are in it as well. The man who takes this charge seriously and does his duty deals with that pressure. He deals with those expectations. He deals with it. He may not complain. Or talk about how seemingly impossible it is to be semi-conscious and not in a state of constant rage, as james baldwin so eloquently said. He feels it. He carries that burden. And sometimes, just sometimes, he needs to get away. He needs to go back to being that kid again who just wanted something all his own. Maybe he’s like me. Maybe he’s not. Maybe he has other reasons to love playing video games all his own.
What I do know is this: let him play. Or, ask to play WITH him…not play for a few minutes, do terribly, then ask if you guys can do something else, just to say you did it. If you’re going to play put actual effort into it. Try. And if it’s not your thing, then let him do him.
I can’t tell you how many times my wife has had the tv on Chromecast, watching makeup tutorials. The big tv. With my game connected to it. And she KNOWS I’d rather be playing it than watching some random woman do her makeup. But that’s the thing about balance, ladies. Think about it. Really take a second and think of all the things your man sits through, or goes to with you, or does with you…that you KNOW he could care less about doing.
Think about it.
Then ask yourself "why can't he have a few hours to himself?"
To some, this may sound selfish, and for that I apologize. But also, I hope it helps to give much needed perspective on a multi-billion dollar industry and hobby where one trade show may make millions of dollars of profit. This is serious business to everyone but yall, my Queens. And that needs to change.
Let him play. Bring him a beer. Sit with him. Play in your phone. Or have basic conversation, depending on the game. But stop acting like him being a gamer is a negative check on his sheet. There are so many more things I could go in on with this post, like the fact that him being home playing video games with online friends you may not know, should beat the hell out of him being out somewhere doing God knows what with real life people you may not know…but that’s a given (I hope). Ill end this here, but know this, Queens.
We love you.
We just sometimes need a bit of time, a world, a court, gun, some powers to ourselves…sometimes, in order to be our best for yall, we need to get away, and be that kid again.
 |
| This could be us, but you playin' |
I was brought up in a single parent home. For the largest majority of my life, it was me, my mother, my older sister and at times my grandmother. Yeah, I grew up the only boy in a household of strong, matriarchal women. I have no complaints! I took the dog out, fixed the wifi, screwed in bolts, raked leaves, took the trash out and many other duties befitting the “man of the house” label and expectations, even from a young age.
With that said, growing up with all women was an experience. Lifetime movies were the bane of my existence. I’d never really got to watch what I wanted to watch on tv unless my older sister wanted to watch it, too (I remember racing home from school to make sure I could control the remote so we could watch toonami while doing our homework, and hoping that she would agree to watching Dragon Ball Z or Gundam Wing) but if that wasn’t the case, or my mom was home, we would simply watch what she wanted to watch. Times like this I learned to go in another room, read a book, maybe go outside if it was during the day- Basically find ways to entertain myself, whether it be with my action figures, or other imaginary things I filled my time with.
But then, one day everything changed. It was Christmas, actually, if I remember correctly. My dad came through and brought his usual assortment of gifts. My parents always tended to find a way to get along with each other for birthdays and holidays, luckily…but that’s beside the point. One of the gifts my dad had for me was a Sega Genesis. I had seen one before, he had one at his house. And I would play it when I went to stay the night over my cousin's house or something like that…but this one, was all mine. My dad brought me two games: the original Sonic the Hedgehog, and X-Men: Escape from Asteroid M (or whichever one it was where you could play as Gambit and the first level was the wild lands)…my dad told me, “Don’t let these women drive you crazy. Take that little tv in the middle room and escape. This is for you.”
In my young age, I didn’t quite understand the totality of what he meant, but as time went on, I realized that my video game was the only thing in life that was all mine. The girls didn’t really care for it (although, in later years my sister got eerily proficient at beating my ass in Tekken…I'll still never figure that part out). This was everything to me. Even with my action figures, my sister would draft them into her barbie day time stories and I’d happily play along, playing the roles of my action figures…it was just nice to have someone to play with. But my video games were mine. All mine.
Which brings me to the topic of this article.
Let your man play his video games.
Just let him. I get it. You want his attention. You work hard, and how dare he not recognize your magic or your queenly glow every waking second of the day, or even on demand? This is flawed thinking. Just like you, he fights battles every day that you would never know about. He may not complain. He may compartmentalize. He may deal with stress in his own way.
OR
He may wait until he gets home and can escape from it all.
He may be looking forward to knowing he can come home to a good woman who loves him and supports him and is willing to listen to any issues he has, but he may honestly rather not worry you with his petty issues or complaining. (us men aren’t really conditioned to complain…but that’s for another day, another article)
He may look forward to coming home and melting the face off an alien with SMG fire. Or meeting a friend online for a game of 2k where he can live out his childhood dreams. Or traveling to an alternate reality where he can be his childhood hero. Or….I could go on.
See, being a gamer does not mean he doesn’t love you. Or isn’t interested in spending time with you. And I can't speak for all men, so please take this article where it applies, but for some men, gaming is what keeps us sane. We see how fucked up the world is, just as much as our Queens do. And even though many of us fail at it, our charge is to not only strongly navigate this world, but protect our women who are in it as well. The man who takes this charge seriously and does his duty deals with that pressure. He deals with those expectations. He deals with it. He may not complain. Or talk about how seemingly impossible it is to be semi-conscious and not in a state of constant rage, as james baldwin so eloquently said. He feels it. He carries that burden. And sometimes, just sometimes, he needs to get away. He needs to go back to being that kid again who just wanted something all his own. Maybe he’s like me. Maybe he’s not. Maybe he has other reasons to love playing video games all his own.
What I do know is this: let him play. Or, ask to play WITH him…not play for a few minutes, do terribly, then ask if you guys can do something else, just to say you did it. If you’re going to play put actual effort into it. Try. And if it’s not your thing, then let him do him.
I can’t tell you how many times my wife has had the tv on Chromecast, watching makeup tutorials. The big tv. With my game connected to it. And she KNOWS I’d rather be playing it than watching some random woman do her makeup. But that’s the thing about balance, ladies. Think about it. Really take a second and think of all the things your man sits through, or goes to with you, or does with you…that you KNOW he could care less about doing.
Think about it.
Then ask yourself "why can't he have a few hours to himself?"
To some, this may sound selfish, and for that I apologize. But also, I hope it helps to give much needed perspective on a multi-billion dollar industry and hobby where one trade show may make millions of dollars of profit. This is serious business to everyone but yall, my Queens. And that needs to change.
Let him play. Bring him a beer. Sit with him. Play in your phone. Or have basic conversation, depending on the game. But stop acting like him being a gamer is a negative check on his sheet. There are so many more things I could go in on with this post, like the fact that him being home playing video games with online friends you may not know, should beat the hell out of him being out somewhere doing God knows what with real life people you may not know…but that’s a given (I hope). Ill end this here, but know this, Queens.
We love you.
We just sometimes need a bit of time, a world, a court, gun, some powers to ourselves…sometimes, in order to be our best for yall, we need to get away, and be that kid again.
Marshall Stevenson is the podcast host for "The Legion of Love" Podcast group and an all around nerdy kind of guy. Follow his podcast on Facebook at www.legionoflovepodcast.com, and make sure to follow his shenanagins on IG/Twitter @marshallpoetry.
Tuesday, August 23, 2016
The Trump Turnpike
America.
Hey. Hey. We need to talk.
How. Did. We. Get. Here?
You know what HERE I'm talking about.
I've never been really big on fear tactics. I don't know. Maybe it's because I'm a product of the 9/11 generation. Maybe it's because like so many, I heard the USA chants. I watched several of my friends sign up happily for military service, subscribing to the "We need to protect our shores" at an early age. Maybe it's because at that same age, when things didn't start lining up, I became a questioning mind and an open mouth. I don't know WHY fear tactics don't scare me anymore, but this election, no lie. The tactics got me, fam. They got me. I'm so ready to put on a Hillary pin, hashtag my tweets with #ImWithHer, and run to the nearest poll that I don't know what to do. Which is tragic, because I don't trust her as far as I see anything, and those who know me know I'm blind as a damn bat in broad daylight.
But how did we get here? The Republicans have always had a pretty craptastic candidates (although I'll be the first to admit - John Huntsman is my guy. Like. I love him. LOVE HIM) And Democrats have never been far behind, but how did the Republicans go so far into the bigot closet that they are finding white sheets from the 1920s? How did they let it get this bad? How did we make this left off of Freedom Freeway and onto Trump Turnpike.
It wasn't the media. It wasn't the establishment. It's simply because Donald Trump's 2016 campaign is VERY reminiscent of Barack Obama's 2008 campaign.
Hear me out though.
When President Obama began his campaign, the country was in a state of unrest. (sound familiar?) The people were hungry for change (I know that sounds familiar.) The economy was fluctuating. (We getting warmer.) Protests of all kinds were springing up, with groups begging for acknowledgment and order in a time of restlessness (LISTEN) The people were searching for someone who wasn't quite establishment, but had a little knowledge of....something....anything (Fam. You should be uncomfortable by now) And then....out of the shadows came a community organizer turned politician who had this way with the people (Uh oh.) And could make thousands of people nod their heads by uttering one simple phrase (Yes. We. Can. Make. These. Comparisons.) And now, 8 years later, here we are again - staring at the television as a candidate has catapulted into Rock Star status and has become almost bigger than the election itself.
Trump Turnpike is a cluster fuck of traffic - news stories about this business deal or that scandal. Articles about his health and his obsession with fast food.. Think pieces about how racist he is. Detailed filled articles about how he is a bankrupt slumlord who is nothing but a TV personality looking for new advertisers. What it is, this road seems to be going nowhere FAST.
And I, for one, can't wait to get off.
Hey. Hey. We need to talk.
How. Did. We. Get. Here?
You know what HERE I'm talking about.
 |
| FAM. |
But how did we get here? The Republicans have always had a pretty craptastic candidates (although I'll be the first to admit - John Huntsman is my guy. Like. I love him. LOVE HIM) And Democrats have never been far behind, but how did the Republicans go so far into the bigot closet that they are finding white sheets from the 1920s? How did they let it get this bad? How did we make this left off of Freedom Freeway and onto Trump Turnpike.
It wasn't the media. It wasn't the establishment. It's simply because Donald Trump's 2016 campaign is VERY reminiscent of Barack Obama's 2008 campaign.
Hear me out though.
When President Obama began his campaign, the country was in a state of unrest. (sound familiar?) The people were hungry for change (I know that sounds familiar.) The economy was fluctuating. (We getting warmer.) Protests of all kinds were springing up, with groups begging for acknowledgment and order in a time of restlessness (LISTEN) The people were searching for someone who wasn't quite establishment, but had a little knowledge of....something....anything (Fam. You should be uncomfortable by now) And then....out of the shadows came a community organizer turned politician who had this way with the people (Uh oh.) And could make thousands of people nod their heads by uttering one simple phrase (Yes. We. Can. Make. These. Comparisons.) And now, 8 years later, here we are again - staring at the television as a candidate has catapulted into Rock Star status and has become almost bigger than the election itself.
Trump Turnpike is a cluster fuck of traffic - news stories about this business deal or that scandal. Articles about his health and his obsession with fast food.. Think pieces about how racist he is. Detailed filled articles about how he is a bankrupt slumlord who is nothing but a TV personality looking for new advertisers. What it is, this road seems to be going nowhere FAST.
And I, for one, can't wait to get off.
Monday, August 22, 2016
How Do We Love The Skin We're In
Celebrating the skin we are in is hard work.
There are so many factors that make it hard, too. Between society, racism, music, movies, television, and other outside factors, loving this perfect, mocha - chocolate - deep rich coffee - melanated skin is a tough job. BUT SOMEBODY HAS TO DO IT. Somebody has to love this skin because it's a reflection of our past. Somebody has to love this skin because it's the focus of our present. Somebody has to love this skin because it is the projection of our future.
But at times - you know who makes it hard to love this skin we are in?
Us.
THERE. I said it.
Now this ain't a Willie Lynch type blog - besides, we should all know by now that the Willie Lynch letter is one of the biggest hoaxes in Black Pop and Historical Culture. But we cannot deny the colorism that is rampant in our community - how light skinned men are deemed "soft" and light skinned women as "more exotic" and "high maintenance." How dark skinned men are loved, but it's more on a sexual nature, and how dark skinned women are either treated as an artistic art piece (think of the Bilal video Soul Sista) or demonized as something that is ugly and undesired (I'm looking at you, Kodak Black). How "redbones" are something popularized by Black music and considered exotic or "video vixens." Or the invisible caramel (medium skin toned) Black person - those of us who aren't exotic looking, or too black to be made fun of, so everyone just acts like we don't exist.
We know that slavery played a major part in this. See, everyone owned us at some point - From the Arabs, to the Dutch, to the Native Americans (Don't believe the hype. All of them weren't trying to fight the "Pale Faces." Some were trying to assimilate) And with owning slaves, come rape. And with rape, children. And when children were born, those who looked a certain way were often treated better - by Massa and the family. Fear of the "Big Black Man" was used to pass laws, from 1863 until at LEAST the 1920s (ever wonder why coke was made illegal? Yea.....about those big black dark skinned men who were raping all the women.) But we know this, right? This is common knowledge if we barely even picked up a book - all you have to do is watch the movies "Roots" or "Queen". Or read the Slave Narratives where they talk about biracial children being treated with a higher level of twisted love.
With that higher elevation, comes the bullshit.
My generation is the generation right behind the resurge of 90s Black Power - Images of HBCUs, successful Black entrepreneurs, empowering singers, and conscious rappers fill my childhood memories. But even in that, there were tinges of colorism. "Don't play outside, or else you'll get too dark" was a mantra my friends and I heard often. My friends have often told me stories about how their lighter skinned cousins weren't made to do any housework at Grandma's house during the family Sunday dinner, while the darker cousins could barely eat for being ordered around and made to be the house beast of burden. The way Whitley on a "Different World" was uplifted by many to be the standard of HBCU beauty. Dark skinned Black men were demonized, then elevated to a point of "this is the only example of Black manhood". The AKA paper bag test was something I grew up hearing about from my older cousins who attended school - a practice that dated back years before any of us even thought about crossing the sands into our respective Greek letter organizations. When the video vixen trend became popular, most of the women in the videos were medium to reddish brown skinned women, with flat chest and big butts. As the 90s went on, however, the trend became Afro-Latina - why? Again, the whole "exotic" factor.
How do we break this? It's easy to say that education is the key, but everything I mentioned in this blog is pretty common knowledge, and yet, Colorism lives on. It thrives. Some people say they never experienced it because "everyone in my family is the same color" - meanwhile, the experiences of some and how they were treated haunt them, even into adulthood.
We have been taught for so many years that the color of our skin isn't the content of our character, but what are we to do when it's our own who upholds such hurtful standards?
There are so many factors that make it hard, too. Between society, racism, music, movies, television, and other outside factors, loving this perfect, mocha - chocolate - deep rich coffee - melanated skin is a tough job. BUT SOMEBODY HAS TO DO IT. Somebody has to love this skin because it's a reflection of our past. Somebody has to love this skin because it's the focus of our present. Somebody has to love this skin because it is the projection of our future.
But at times - you know who makes it hard to love this skin we are in?
Us.
THERE. I said it.
Now this ain't a Willie Lynch type blog - besides, we should all know by now that the Willie Lynch letter is one of the biggest hoaxes in Black Pop and Historical Culture. But we cannot deny the colorism that is rampant in our community - how light skinned men are deemed "soft" and light skinned women as "more exotic" and "high maintenance." How dark skinned men are loved, but it's more on a sexual nature, and how dark skinned women are either treated as an artistic art piece (think of the Bilal video Soul Sista) or demonized as something that is ugly and undesired (I'm looking at you, Kodak Black). How "redbones" are something popularized by Black music and considered exotic or "video vixens." Or the invisible caramel (medium skin toned) Black person - those of us who aren't exotic looking, or too black to be made fun of, so everyone just acts like we don't exist.
We know that slavery played a major part in this. See, everyone owned us at some point - From the Arabs, to the Dutch, to the Native Americans (Don't believe the hype. All of them weren't trying to fight the "Pale Faces." Some were trying to assimilate) And with owning slaves, come rape. And with rape, children. And when children were born, those who looked a certain way were often treated better - by Massa and the family. Fear of the "Big Black Man" was used to pass laws, from 1863 until at LEAST the 1920s (ever wonder why coke was made illegal? Yea.....about those big black dark skinned men who were raping all the women.) But we know this, right? This is common knowledge if we barely even picked up a book - all you have to do is watch the movies "Roots" or "Queen". Or read the Slave Narratives where they talk about biracial children being treated with a higher level of twisted love.
With that higher elevation, comes the bullshit.
My generation is the generation right behind the resurge of 90s Black Power - Images of HBCUs, successful Black entrepreneurs, empowering singers, and conscious rappers fill my childhood memories. But even in that, there were tinges of colorism. "Don't play outside, or else you'll get too dark" was a mantra my friends and I heard often. My friends have often told me stories about how their lighter skinned cousins weren't made to do any housework at Grandma's house during the family Sunday dinner, while the darker cousins could barely eat for being ordered around and made to be the house beast of burden. The way Whitley on a "Different World" was uplifted by many to be the standard of HBCU beauty. Dark skinned Black men were demonized, then elevated to a point of "this is the only example of Black manhood". The AKA paper bag test was something I grew up hearing about from my older cousins who attended school - a practice that dated back years before any of us even thought about crossing the sands into our respective Greek letter organizations. When the video vixen trend became popular, most of the women in the videos were medium to reddish brown skinned women, with flat chest and big butts. As the 90s went on, however, the trend became Afro-Latina - why? Again, the whole "exotic" factor.
How do we break this? It's easy to say that education is the key, but everything I mentioned in this blog is pretty common knowledge, and yet, Colorism lives on. It thrives. Some people say they never experienced it because "everyone in my family is the same color" - meanwhile, the experiences of some and how they were treated haunt them, even into adulthood.
We have been taught for so many years that the color of our skin isn't the content of our character, but what are we to do when it's our own who upholds such hurtful standards?
Sunday, August 21, 2016
Black Girl Kink Problems
You know, it's hard enough getting people to understand a sexual pleasure that has been deemed as "taboo" or "something that white girls do". Things such as fellatio, anal, and bisexuality have been long deemed by the Black community as "nasty" - some even say it's ungodly (especially the bisexual part - that's another story for another day). Ever heard a 40+ aged Black woman talk about head? Their views on it are often - I don't wanna say wrong, but one's definition of sex is just that; THEIR SEXUAL DEFINITION - But their views are often borderline damnation.
"Oh, you like that? You're nasty."
"It shouldn't take all that."
"You should never put your mouth on a man's piss stick"
The list goes on and on.
So, picture this - imagine how Black Women who are into BDSM (Bondage - Domination - Sadism - Masochism) feel when trying to explain our kink to our fellow Black Women - or even Black Men that we are dating.
"What's that?"
"So you like that slave shit?"
"So you like being beat on? That's not sexy"
Again. The list goes on and on.
Images and wording like this don't help the situation. At all. Not because we don't like the terms used or the images - but bbecause those who don't understand our kink have placed it into the tiniest of tiny boxes and feel that these images, along with some porns, are somehow degrading to Black Women (and some are - but again - another blog for another day)
Ah, rope work. The way to my little submissive heart. But I digress.
See, this is the world that Black Girls With Kinks live in - a world where our kink is shunned, deemed as something that nasty white girls, black girls who wanna be white, and perverted white men do, and we are viewed as strange because of what turns us on. In my last relationship, when explaining what I liked and what I was, his eyebrow raised to high heaven when I tried to tell him that "Your Kink is what you make it." He did like most do in this time of technology - he googled "BDSM" and the first images he saw were images of girls with the words "Slave" written across their chest; pictures of women in dog kennels; submissive women who had been branded by their masters, and he was turned off - which I found interesting, because he has his own set of kink, but his was easier to explain than mine. He couldn't understand how a woman who he described as "powerful" and "magnetic" could be into something so....degrading.
And then - he experienced it. We sat down. We went over the rules. He explained his expectations and I told him mine (because truth be told, the submissive person hold the power. Word is bond.) And before we realized it - we had our dynamic going. Because I trusted him. I believed in him. And before he knew it, he was into the swing of it. And didn't mind it. And respected the trust levels it brought to our relationship.
But, every Black Girl with a Kink doesn't get her way. Masters leave. Lovers reject ideas. Trust is hard to come by. A lot of people think that BDSM means that you just like to get choked (NEWSFLASH. There is a difference between rough sex and BDSM). So what is a Kinky Black Girl to do when she loves her kink, but has to find the happy medium between Kink and Vanilla Sex?
In the words of one of my loves, "Sometimes, you just gotta settle for fucking."
*Sighs in Kinky Black Bitch*
"Oh, you like that? You're nasty."
"It shouldn't take all that."
"You should never put your mouth on a man's piss stick"
The list goes on and on.
So, picture this - imagine how Black Women who are into BDSM (Bondage - Domination - Sadism - Masochism) feel when trying to explain our kink to our fellow Black Women - or even Black Men that we are dating.
"What's that?"
"So you like that slave shit?"
"So you like being beat on? That's not sexy"
Again. The list goes on and on.
Images and wording like this don't help the situation. At all. Not because we don't like the terms used or the images - but bbecause those who don't understand our kink have placed it into the tiniest of tiny boxes and feel that these images, along with some porns, are somehow degrading to Black Women (and some are - but again - another blog for another day)
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*Bites bottom lip and smiles big*
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See, this is the world that Black Girls With Kinks live in - a world where our kink is shunned, deemed as something that nasty white girls, black girls who wanna be white, and perverted white men do, and we are viewed as strange because of what turns us on. In my last relationship, when explaining what I liked and what I was, his eyebrow raised to high heaven when I tried to tell him that "Your Kink is what you make it." He did like most do in this time of technology - he googled "BDSM" and the first images he saw were images of girls with the words "Slave" written across their chest; pictures of women in dog kennels; submissive women who had been branded by their masters, and he was turned off - which I found interesting, because he has his own set of kink, but his was easier to explain than mine. He couldn't understand how a woman who he described as "powerful" and "magnetic" could be into something so....degrading.
And then - he experienced it. We sat down. We went over the rules. He explained his expectations and I told him mine (because truth be told, the submissive person hold the power. Word is bond.) And before we realized it - we had our dynamic going. Because I trusted him. I believed in him. And before he knew it, he was into the swing of it. And didn't mind it. And respected the trust levels it brought to our relationship.
But, every Black Girl with a Kink doesn't get her way. Masters leave. Lovers reject ideas. Trust is hard to come by. A lot of people think that BDSM means that you just like to get choked (NEWSFLASH. There is a difference between rough sex and BDSM). So what is a Kinky Black Girl to do when she loves her kink, but has to find the happy medium between Kink and Vanilla Sex?
In the words of one of my loves, "Sometimes, you just gotta settle for fucking."
*Sighs in Kinky Black Bitch*
Friday, August 19, 2016
A Little Bit o' Truth (For The Fellas Friday)
So, it happened again, huh?
You met a pretty, melanin filled, afro fleeking, dashiki wearing, Black power spitting Sista. Ya'll exchanged numbers. Social media information. Ya'll go back and forth flirting. She sends you sexy selfies (no nudes because she says "She ain't that type of woman") You even go on a few dates. You met a few of her friends. She meets a few of yours. Vibes are nice. She's not down with the reality TV show craze. She got a degree or two. She got her head on straight. Attitude ain't that bad. You thinking "This shit just may be legit." She don't have you ready to make her a #WCW (because you don't want your homeboys knowing that you done found a BANGER) but she got you subconsciously slowing up on the sexual memes that you post; she got you reading belle hooks and Angela Davis; Hell, you even down to go see the Barack and Michelle "Southside With You" movie.
Then you fuck.
And things are still going decently - not titles because "She's been hurt before" and "doesn't want to risk being hurt again" and you are with it - hell, you've been hurt, too - so the concept of a home cooked meal, good conversation, and a little consensual sex action is right up your alley. AND SHE LIKES SPORTS. You get upgrade from sexy selfies to nice, classy nudes ("I trust you" is what she says. "I know you won't put me out there in a bad way") You feeling like you done hit the low key lotto - not even the million dollar one. Just the basic $10K dollar lotto so you can get a few things cleared up and move on about your life.
Then it all just....stops.
Her texts and calls about your day drop from several a day to maybe three times a week. The sexy pictures end. Long paragraphs about her day or how she feels now are only about two sentences long - if you even get a response. And now, big fella, you are in your apartment, staring at your PS4, trying to get your mind off of her because "she wasn't your girl in the first place." (which we will address in the blog one day soon) You got the Drake going. You've had a few one night stands. Your boys gone brought you drinks and weed, trying to make you forget about her ("Man, there are plenty of fish in the sea!" They say)
But for some reason, she lingers.
A little truth for you, honey.
You did nothing wrong.
Sometimes - a woman just isn't into you. Even when she appears to be. Even when she is desperately trying to be. It doesn't matter how much she cooked for you. It doesn't really matter how much she listened to your problems. It doesn't matter how she made your dick feel.
You wasn't it, fam.
Listen, some women are just callous. And hurt. And bitter. And not over their exes. And filled with momma issues. And harboring father issues. And bad at dealing with stress. And scared. All those reasons that you and your homeboys use not to commit to a woman - or use to leave her high and dry - are applied to women too. Why? Because we are human. We are frail, just as you are. It doesn't make her a bad person. Just means she wasn't the person for you, no matter how you felt about her - or did feel and didn't want to admit to her at the time.
Sometimes, you gotta swallow the truth that the one you think is for you, ain't for you.
So look....go listen to a little more Drake. Drink some more Henny. Go ahead and shed that tear that you've been holding back since the last text that she didn't respond to. And once your done - WORK ON YOU.
For you.
You met a pretty, melanin filled, afro fleeking, dashiki wearing, Black power spitting Sista. Ya'll exchanged numbers. Social media information. Ya'll go back and forth flirting. She sends you sexy selfies (no nudes because she says "She ain't that type of woman") You even go on a few dates. You met a few of her friends. She meets a few of yours. Vibes are nice. She's not down with the reality TV show craze. She got a degree or two. She got her head on straight. Attitude ain't that bad. You thinking "This shit just may be legit." She don't have you ready to make her a #WCW (because you don't want your homeboys knowing that you done found a BANGER) but she got you subconsciously slowing up on the sexual memes that you post; she got you reading belle hooks and Angela Davis; Hell, you even down to go see the Barack and Michelle "Southside With You" movie.
Then you fuck.
And things are still going decently - not titles because "She's been hurt before" and "doesn't want to risk being hurt again" and you are with it - hell, you've been hurt, too - so the concept of a home cooked meal, good conversation, and a little consensual sex action is right up your alley. AND SHE LIKES SPORTS. You get upgrade from sexy selfies to nice, classy nudes ("I trust you" is what she says. "I know you won't put me out there in a bad way") You feeling like you done hit the low key lotto - not even the million dollar one. Just the basic $10K dollar lotto so you can get a few things cleared up and move on about your life.
Then it all just....stops.
Her texts and calls about your day drop from several a day to maybe three times a week. The sexy pictures end. Long paragraphs about her day or how she feels now are only about two sentences long - if you even get a response. And now, big fella, you are in your apartment, staring at your PS4, trying to get your mind off of her because "she wasn't your girl in the first place." (which we will address in the blog one day soon) You got the Drake going. You've had a few one night stands. Your boys gone brought you drinks and weed, trying to make you forget about her ("Man, there are plenty of fish in the sea!" They say)
But for some reason, she lingers.
A little truth for you, honey.
You did nothing wrong.
Sometimes - a woman just isn't into you. Even when she appears to be. Even when she is desperately trying to be. It doesn't matter how much she cooked for you. It doesn't really matter how much she listened to your problems. It doesn't matter how she made your dick feel.
You wasn't it, fam.
Listen, some women are just callous. And hurt. And bitter. And not over their exes. And filled with momma issues. And harboring father issues. And bad at dealing with stress. And scared. All those reasons that you and your homeboys use not to commit to a woman - or use to leave her high and dry - are applied to women too. Why? Because we are human. We are frail, just as you are. It doesn't make her a bad person. Just means she wasn't the person for you, no matter how you felt about her - or did feel and didn't want to admit to her at the time.
Sometimes, you gotta swallow the truth that the one you think is for you, ain't for you.
So look....go listen to a little more Drake. Drink some more Henny. Go ahead and shed that tear that you've been holding back since the last text that she didn't respond to. And once your done - WORK ON YOU.
For you.
Thursday, August 4, 2016
Dear Black Men
Dear Black Men,
I appreciate so many of my Black men for stepping up and saying "Yo. I'm sorry we have failed ya'll as men." I do. It warmed my dark little heart. It means a lot to see so many of you saying "Yo. I get it now. I understand." As a Black Woman who has openly said that I fear ya'll - It means a lot that ya'll are hearing these words and your shook by it. It means a lot that those words bothered you.
It means that there is some love there - and that the bond between us can be salvaged.
Yet, I need ya'll to understand - it takes more than words. It takes more than statuses and memes of Black couples with the hashtag of #BlackLove. It means not supporting men (and women) who promote and uplift rape culture. It means not supporting politicians who invade our womb and break the core of our reproductive rights. It means not supporting those who beat us or make jokes about domestic violence. It means listening to us when we speak on our experiences that are hurting us to our core. It means you must allow for Black Women and Girls to be carefree. It means supporting Black Women who are business owners. It means not downing us to women and men of other races and placing them on a pedestal to where THEY think it's okay to speak and talk to us any type of way. This means supporting Black Trans Women - whether you agree with their "life" or not. This means means calling out the Umar Johnsons, Tommy Sotomayors, the Tariq Nasheeds, The Chey Bs, the Steve Harveys and letting them know that the Black Woman - YOUR Black Woman - is not to blame for what we are facing, but she is a product of her environment, much like you are.
I appreciate so many of my Black men for stepping up and saying "Yo. I'm sorry we have failed ya'll as men." I do. It warmed my dark little heart. It means a lot to see so many of you saying "Yo. I get it now. I understand." As a Black Woman who has openly said that I fear ya'll - It means a lot that ya'll are hearing these words and your shook by it. It means a lot that those words bothered you.
It means that there is some love there - and that the bond between us can be salvaged.
Yet, I need ya'll to understand - it takes more than words. It takes more than statuses and memes of Black couples with the hashtag of #BlackLove. It means not supporting men (and women) who promote and uplift rape culture. It means not supporting politicians who invade our womb and break the core of our reproductive rights. It means not supporting those who beat us or make jokes about domestic violence. It means listening to us when we speak on our experiences that are hurting us to our core. It means you must allow for Black Women and Girls to be carefree. It means supporting Black Women who are business owners. It means not downing us to women and men of other races and placing them on a pedestal to where THEY think it's okay to speak and talk to us any type of way. This means supporting Black Trans Women - whether you agree with their "life" or not. This means means calling out the Umar Johnsons, Tommy Sotomayors, the Tariq Nasheeds, The Chey Bs, the Steve Harveys and letting them know that the Black Woman - YOUR Black Woman - is not to blame for what we are facing, but she is a product of her environment, much like you are.
Protecting the Black Woman ain't always about taking up arms and shooting (although sometimes, that may have to happen - Think of DuBois. Who sat outside his house with the shotgun to protect his wife and child from the KKK) - many times, its about ASSISTING and UNDERSTANDING her. It's
about understanding the history of the Black man and woman as it dates back to Africa and through modern times. It's about loving us in spite of - the same way we do ya'll.
Oh, and by the way - for my homosexual Black men? This goes for ya'll, too. You may not want what we have - but you dropped out of one of us. You have sisters. Many of you get your make up tips from us. Many of you came OUT to one of us before you came out to the rest of the world. Many of you have cried on the shoulder of a Black Woman when that bi-curious man broke your heart because he was "confused about what he wanted." Many of you get your support from us when it's time for you to venture out into the world and start your businesses. Stop calling us fish, gather your skirts and let's get it in.
Build us up like we build ya'll. This is the key to REAL Black Love. On any and every level.
I love ya'll. The Black Woman Loves ya'll. Always have. Always will. Let's build.
Wednesday, July 20, 2016
You Make It Hard To Be Black
Blacks make it hard for other Blacks to be their version of Black.
There.
I said it.
*exhales*
I don't think ya'll know how hard it was to type that. Like, my inner Black Panther was screaming out NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO with each keystroke. See, my inner Black Panther is much like David Banner - that whole "let's address our issues with each other privately" mentality. But this is my issue - Blacks are not quiet with the criticism of things that aren't....."black". Black America has a very group think mentality.
WE ALL HAVE TO FOCUS ON THIS AT THIS MOMENT RIGHT NOW AT THIS TIME!
WE ALL HAVE TO HATE/LOVE THIS ONE THING AT THE SAME TIME RIGHT NOW!
YOU HAVE TO LIKE THIS ARTIST RIGHT NOW OR YOU AREN'T COOL/HIP/WOKE.
IF YOU LIKE THESE THINGS, YOU ARE AN IDIOT/STUPID/CHILDISH/A SHEEPLE.
Example. One of the biggest games in the WORLD right now.
Got his ass. Ok. Now where was I? Oh yea. Now, no one is denying that people have gotten hurt while playing the game. No one is denying that the places that have become "Poke Stops" is downright offensive. Or that people have used the game for some fucked up reasons. But for one second, can we as Black folks let other Black folks live? See, there are a lot of us that are using this game to cope. Being Black has been kinda hard lately (if you hadn't noticed) and you don't know someone's level of mental stability. So if a grown, 25 year old, job having, boyfriend having, sexual active red blooded Black American female wants to play Pokémon go, Then dammit SHUT UP AND LET HER.
See, many Blacks want us to be so focused on one thing that we are supposed to ignore the rest of what is going on in our lives. I'm not going to apologize for having various interest. Yes, I believe in social justice. I'm vegan when I have the money to afford it. Yes, I am a BIG TIME feminist who believes that my Blackness and my womanhood are two of the most important things I have (My ovaries and my word, fam) Yet, I also love anime. I love video games. I LOVE ALL THINGS SPORTS. I love make up and play it in often. I think the snap chat filters are adorable as hell, and I'm annoyed by white privilege and Blacks who want to be among the ranks of the oppressors. But that's the thing about being black - about being human. I'm allowed to be all those things at once. I'm allowed to be me because in this world, all I have is my humanity and my version of it.
You wanna build the black nation? We wanna become a strong community. Let's start with the first rule - it comes before economics, religious thoughts, sexuality, all that.
There.
I said it.
*exhales*
I don't think ya'll know how hard it was to type that. Like, my inner Black Panther was screaming out NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO with each keystroke. See, my inner Black Panther is much like David Banner - that whole "let's address our issues with each other privately" mentality. But this is my issue - Blacks are not quiet with the criticism of things that aren't....."black". Black America has a very group think mentality.
WE ALL HAVE TO FOCUS ON THIS AT THIS MOMENT RIGHT NOW AT THIS TIME!
WE ALL HAVE TO HATE/LOVE THIS ONE THING AT THE SAME TIME RIGHT NOW!
YOU HAVE TO LIKE THIS ARTIST RIGHT NOW OR YOU AREN'T COOL/HIP/WOKE.
IF YOU LIKE THESE THINGS, YOU ARE AN IDIOT/STUPID/CHILDISH/A SHEEPLE.
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| Excuse me while I read these uppity and judgmental Facebook post. |
Example. One of the biggest games in the WORLD right now.
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| Hold on. Let me catch this Mewtwo right fast. |
See, many Blacks want us to be so focused on one thing that we are supposed to ignore the rest of what is going on in our lives. I'm not going to apologize for having various interest. Yes, I believe in social justice. I'm vegan when I have the money to afford it. Yes, I am a BIG TIME feminist who believes that my Blackness and my womanhood are two of the most important things I have (My ovaries and my word, fam) Yet, I also love anime. I love video games. I LOVE ALL THINGS SPORTS. I love make up and play it in often. I think the snap chat filters are adorable as hell, and I'm annoyed by white privilege and Blacks who want to be among the ranks of the oppressors. But that's the thing about being black - about being human. I'm allowed to be all those things at once. I'm allowed to be me because in this world, all I have is my humanity and my version of it.
You wanna build the black nation? We wanna become a strong community. Let's start with the first rule - it comes before economics, religious thoughts, sexuality, all that.
Rule #1 - I will NOT interfere with or judge my fellow Black person for being themselves.
Friday, November 20, 2015
This Ain't About You
Guys. Guys. Let's bring it in. It appears we need to have a discussion.
I really just want to give my guys the game. Now, what I'm about to give you is considered a secret. Matter of fact, the kid may have to disappear after I give this up because I'll be giving away the secrets. Just know that I love you all, and all I ever wanted to do was spread truth, love and the Sex Positive American way.
Guys - if you are in a situation where you have a *cough* Fuck Buddy *cough*, and the women suddenly begins to creep you out because she acts like she cares, listen up. No matter what happens - no matter what - I want you to go ahead and stand down. Don't call your boys talking about "she crazy! She wants a relationship!" No. Neaux. Nope. Trust me. That is the furthest thing from her mind.
It's not that she cares about you, or doesn't care about you - what she actttttuaaaallllyyyyy cares for is the dick. There. I said it. We care about the well being and are concerned for the muscle that is between your legs.
It's not that she cares about you, or doesn't care about you - what she actttttuaaaallllyyyyy cares for is the dick. There. I said it. We care about the well being and are concerned for the muscle that is between your legs.
When your "FB" randomly calls with that slightly awkward but sweet "So how are you?" She ain't really asking about YOU. She is asking her friend, Mr. Tal E. Wacker, about his day and how he is feeling. When she asks "Are you doing ok?" What she means is "Did this jerk wash you today? Did he massage you? Did he protect you before he stuck you in that yamp? Do I need to come take care of you?" When she is "clockin' you" and asking your friends where you are, she is not asking because she wants to know if you're at the club - she is asking because she wants to know what time she send that "cum thru" text. Trust me. She is having a whole conversation that involves you and doesn't involve you at the same time.
See, the issue is that women aren't allowed to talk that way. A woman being blunt about her pleasure makes her a whore; us telling a man "Hey. This is really about sex and nothing more" often makes her the bad guy. And truth be told - there are a LOT of men out there who feel some kind of way about a woman honestly saying "I don't give a damn about you - I'm checking on my friend, Mr. Dick MiDown! Tell him I said hey!"
Despite what ya'll say, ya'll are sensitive about your shit. And we are the more sensitive sex. So instead of making a big deal and hurting your pride, we often just let you think that you've got the power - that you are the man - that we are calling and being weird about YOU.
The truth is....It ain't about you.
Sunday, November 8, 2015
When BLM meets Everything Else Matters But Your Black Life
Mizzou. It appears you have a serious problem on your hands.
So, we have heard about the hunger strike? A graduate student has refused to eat after proclaiming that Mizzou officials do not care about the racial tension or protection of their marginalized students on campus. And today, the Black students on the football team have said that they will no participate in football related activities until Tim Wolfe, the President of the school, resigns.
Black Lives Matter? Let me introduce you to Our Money Matters.
See, when this was just a lowly graduate student, this was ignored. When the idealist Black man with no athletic ability speaks and does something drastic, the nation sweeps his actions under the rug - much like the student at Ole Miss who guarded James Meredith's statue or like the member of Phi Beta Sigma who ran across country to bring attention to the issues in Ferguson and Baltimore. These actions, powerful in their own right, went ignored - by media and people alike.
But for some reason - when you play games with people's weekend hobbies and when you threaten the fabric of a unit - that catches momentum.
This is not to slam the student-athletes. On the contrary - I support them. I hope their families support them. I hope those who call themselves the founders of BLM supports them. And I hope their fellow student athletes support them AND join them in their strike. But what I find sad is the calls to have these men - these Black men who are using their freedom of speech and assembly to bring light to an action - are being railroaded and treated as if they are scum. As if they haven't brought the university millions in jersey and game ticket sales. As if they aren't star students. As if they aren't ambassadors for the school. Have you seen the tweets? The statuses? My gawd. Calls to take away scholarships, suspend players, and take legal action are coming from fans. Fans, mind you. Those who, if a player were accused of rape or some other crime, would stand by the player until the end of time. But because they are standing against a system, they are now the enemy.
BLM meets Our Football Game Matters So Fuck Your Rights.
Tuesday, October 27, 2015
I Need To Call In Black
I need to Call In Black.
No seriously. I need this to be apart of leave time at work. Sick days. Vacation Days. Family Sick Days. Maternity Leave. Black Days. Because living this life is stressful, breh.
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| "Hello? Bureau of Blackness? Chile. Look......." |
Like, think about. We wake up to images and video of our men and women being abused, railroaded, and broken. Videos our arrests and death make the news cycle and are shown without remorse to family or friends. Micro-aggressions about our vernacular, our sexuality, our religion or lack thereof, our womanhood, our manhood, our clothes, our forms of media, our family statuses are thrown around as if we aren't human. Like we ain't got feelings. And some days, we can take it. Some days, we can roll with the punches, take the shots on the chin, and keep it moving. Some days, we can deal with the professor calling us by the wrong name (Seriously? This it the second time I've taken you. YOU KNOW WHO I AM) Some days, we can deal with someone reaching up and touching our hair without our permission (I AM NOT YOUR DAMN ZOO) We can deal with other races telling us that we are too angry and we should just let things go (We ain't telling Jews to forget the Holocaust, but okay). You can deal with people saying that Black Women are the reason the Black Community is so weak (We just gone ignore the systematic destruction of who we are? Shit. OK.) But look.
Some days. JUST SOME DAYS. You just want to call in and be like "Neaux. Noap. No. Nope."
It's on those days where I just wake up...angry. Like every news story bothers me. Every article about race engulfs and enrages. And I don't mean for it too - but James Baldwin once said something along the lines that living as a African American is like living in anger daily. It's like you have to watch every little thing you say; every social media post; every tweet; every Instagram picture. People are WAITING for the slip - waiting for you to fall so they can egg on the situation. Instigate the feeling of sheer...overwhelming frustration. And when you are trying to be an example, it's HARD not to give in to the feeling of just.....slamming down a fist.
So, listen. I want to Call In Black today. Perhaps tomorrow, too. This means I'm not getting on social media. I'm not clicking any hashtags. I'm not responding to any tags about social activism.
And I'm definitely not reading ANY comments in the comment section of ANY news article.
And I'm definitely not reading ANY comments in the comment section of ANY news article.
Sunday, October 25, 2015
Inferior?
So I'm having a conversation a few days ago and I was told "Men are inferior when it comes to sex." An immediate eyebrow raise occurred and I swear, if we would have been talking instead if texting, I would have stuttered all over myself.
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| Wait. |
Yall KNOW I disagree, right. *follows head nod* See, yall know me so well. This is why we are who we are.
Now, I don't think that my love was wrong PER SE in the assessment. Nor will I say they aren't factual. Women do have a higher rate of stamina - recovery time on fleek. Annnnddddd the rate and amount at which we can achieve an orgasm is pretty impressive (record is 222 orgasms during a Masturbate A Thon in Denmark) but the strengths that women have aren't really weaknesses on a man's part - and the lack of definitely doesnt make men the inferior sex. Yall have penises for christ sake.
Penises. Yes, we carry life - but yall must be around to CREATE it. Bruh. Poowweerrr.
But back to the topic. Easy, I forgot it (J. Cole voice) I think what one sex is missing, the other makes up. Men have to recover, but it takes women a little longer to get cranked up (you gotta rev us up like a Caprice Classic). Women have the stamina - men have the strength (if you've never experienced the.....never mind. We wont go into that detail. *snarky grin*) I think thats what makes sex between a ♂ and a ♀ something great.
What one lacks, the other has. And both powers seem to play off each other - feeding into the frenzy. That is definitely not inferiority - seems more of an exchangenod energy to me.
Besides - if y'all are inferior, lets discuss this little fact -
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| The ultimate download |
Friday, October 23, 2015
Feel The Bern
Sooooooooo.....Bernie Sanders is like....the liberal's version of Donald Trump. Down to the unruly hair and the consistent appearance of disheveled levels of "I don't give a fuck."
But hear me out tho.
I like Bernie. I do. He seems like an interesting guy. He is Jewish; grew up middle class; has been in public service all his life. And after a little bit of leaning (shoutout to the protesters - don't stop until you change their minds!), it seems that Bernie now THOROUGHLY understands that #BlackLivesMatter. But he seems a bit....dare I say....out of touch....with certain things. Well, let me not say out of touch. But let me stick to my point. His thought process is a little dated. And a bit extreme.
See, Bernie has been in the upper part of the United States for a while. Vermont to be exact. And I think that the air has gotten to him because the whole thought of a utopian society of socialists isn't reality. My guy believes that straight talk and honesty will get things done. That singing Kum By Ya is the way. I want to politely tap him on the shoulder and remind him that this is Washington, DC in the United States of America, and that he himself marched for Civil Rights - so he knows how this goes. He knows that the methods he is using is one for books and movies - in real life, we are idiots who can barely tie our shoes.
He better ask Obama.
The last debate showed his naivety. His lack of answers on gun control parellel Trump's naivety on Immigration reform. His narrow scope of foreign policy reinforces what the war hawks always say about Liberals - that we are weak on matters of foreign policy and don't quite know what's going on. Interestingly enough, his narrow scope reminds me a lot of Trump's. It's not that they mean to be narrow minded - it's about environment. Bubbles, if you will. Bernie is stuck in Vermont; Donald is stuck in Manhattan.
NOW, I'm not saying this in an effort to say "Don't vote for him". I encourage you to go to his website and see what he is about. And maybe I was a bit harsh for calling him Donald Trump?
A liberal version of Glen Beck?
That sounds a LITTLE better.
 | |||||
| My guy always looks like he is debating the prices of a corned beef sammich. |
I like Bernie. I do. He seems like an interesting guy. He is Jewish; grew up middle class; has been in public service all his life. And after a little bit of leaning (shoutout to the protesters - don't stop until you change their minds!), it seems that Bernie now THOROUGHLY understands that #BlackLivesMatter. But he seems a bit....dare I say....out of touch....with certain things. Well, let me not say out of touch. But let me stick to my point. His thought process is a little dated. And a bit extreme.
See, Bernie has been in the upper part of the United States for a while. Vermont to be exact. And I think that the air has gotten to him because the whole thought of a utopian society of socialists isn't reality. My guy believes that straight talk and honesty will get things done. That singing Kum By Ya is the way. I want to politely tap him on the shoulder and remind him that this is Washington, DC in the United States of America, and that he himself marched for Civil Rights - so he knows how this goes. He knows that the methods he is using is one for books and movies - in real life, we are idiots who can barely tie our shoes.
He better ask Obama.
The last debate showed his naivety. His lack of answers on gun control parellel Trump's naivety on Immigration reform. His narrow scope of foreign policy reinforces what the war hawks always say about Liberals - that we are weak on matters of foreign policy and don't quite know what's going on. Interestingly enough, his narrow scope reminds me a lot of Trump's. It's not that they mean to be narrow minded - it's about environment. Bubbles, if you will. Bernie is stuck in Vermont; Donald is stuck in Manhattan.
NOW, I'm not saying this in an effort to say "Don't vote for him". I encourage you to go to his website and see what he is about. And maybe I was a bit harsh for calling him Donald Trump?
A liberal version of Glen Beck?
That sounds a LITTLE better.
Sunday, October 18, 2015
Toy Soldier
If you Google "Things you don't know or need to know
about sex toys", you'll get a million articles from a million places all
saying that same thing. "The first
known dildo is so and so age" and "vibrators were invented by this
person" will more than likely come up.
These articles have been written by women and men, of all races and
ages. And as I got ready to write this -
I found myself not wanting to be cliché.
I mean....everyone has covered this.
So what can I say that's different?
What can I say that's unique about something that is so natural - which
is sexual exploration and experimentation?
I immediately thought about my first experience in buying
something from an adult store. Had I
been to sex stores? Sure. That was on
the Freshman in College Bucket List - "Go to the back room in Record
Rack" or "Visit The Hut".
So friends and I got our laughs by going to these places, looking and
giggling about something that we were adult enough to see, but not really old enough
to understand. And while my friends and
I were all pretty sexually active in college - none of us really UNDERSTOOD
sex. (Truth be told, many of us STILLLLLL don't. But I digress.) So these trips
and excursions were fun, but soon lost their flavor, as we moved to other
interests and Freshman In College Bucket List Things.
I don't know what made me go back.
Curiosity? Self awareness?
I'm not sure. All I know is that my sister
and Brother in law gave me my first vibrator as a gag. We were all working in the mall and they
stopped by my job with a gift that they said I need to open when I'm alone. "You need to relax," they said with a smile.
Did I? I mean - I had a boyfriend at the time and things were flowing
pretty well, so I laughed it off. Until
I got home. And opened it. And there I
was, staring at my kink for the first time.
It felt odd. Then good. Then weird. Then I just stared at it like
"this is so not me." Not in
the sense of "I'm not this desperate" but in the sense of "I
wouldn't have picked this for myself."
Listen. It was so BIG. Like "WHHHYYYYYYYYYY"
type of big. Like "Oh My" type of big. Like "You are NOT
sticking that in ME" type of big.
Yet, as I laughed and put it away, it made me wonder - what would I have
bought for myself?
So, when I went to the store, I knew what I wanted and had
an idea of what would make me happy.
Stop. Let me not act as if I'm some guru or like I'm soooo sure of myself I
was scared. Literally scared to
death. It's amazing what I do and don't
remember - like, I don't remember if I was by myself. I don't remember which
store it was, but I know it was in Little Rock.
Like, I don't know why I thought I'd be judged by other people in a
head shop, but I did. Upon reflection,
this was ten years ago - maybe I felt out of place because I didn't see faces
like mine in the building besides on the pornography magazines and videos. Maybe it was admitting that I was a
"freak", as defined by other 18-22 year olds who had no clue about
sex, either. But no matter WHY, the fact
remained that I still went in, scared shitless, and paid cash because I didn't
want the charge to pop up on the bank statement that I shared with my mother. Like, who wants to admit to their mother that
they got something to get them off? Not I, said the little kitten.
Hm.
Since that day, I've done my share of purchasing. For others
and for myself. And I've learned that
sex toys are porous, and have to be cleaned, and that they go on sale, and that
there are groupons for them (Yo.) and that the industry for sex toys in a billion
dollar business. But you know what I
haven't learned?
How to get rid of that "I'm being judged" feeling
when I walk through the doors.
Tuesday, October 13, 2015
That ONE Friend
Ladies and gentlemen, let's discuss that ONE Friend.
We all know what friend who will do and say the dumbest things just to get noticed? That hypocritical friend that when he talks, you're like "Bruh.."? That's Ben Carson to me. A lot of people call him an "Uncle Tom" and a "Token", which I find offensive to my mans Uncle Tom AND my mans Token.
And honestly, my issue with Ben Carson isn't even that you think the "white man's ice is colder." Actually, I would like to think he realizes the struggles that a Black man has to overcome in order to make it in a society that begins profiling our sons when they are as young as the 4th grade. My overall issue with Ben Carson is that he's a bigot. And an idiot. And a little naive. And a bit of a hypocrite. But a lot of bigot.
Have you heard some of the things this guy has said? First, it's problematic that as someone running for this position, you can't explain the debt limit or your take on what to do. Secondly, those little comments that he made about the Oregon shooting? He only wants immigrants of the respectable sort, and then there are those pesky comments about Hitler and gun control - and dude even made a joke about it! And then was like.
Carson, much like any Republican, is a bit heavy on the "Do as I say, not as I do" tip. He benefited from affirmative action, but feels that there is no need for it now because "race doesn't determine the underdog". He believes that the Japanese deserved their form of reparations, but that African Americans don't deserve reparations for slavery. Of COURSE, he has his nose in the womb of a woman, and I think that HE thinks that because he was in pediatric surgery, that he has the right to do so.
Lowkey....no. HIGHKEY. I think Ben Carson is auditioning to play the part of Vice President. You know how all the Vice Presidents act when they are auditioning - everybody is being loud and extra wrong. And extra simple. And that's one thing that makes him that ONE FRIEND. He's that one friend that wants you to know his triumph, but forget his struggle. He's that ONE friend that plays on being Black when it's nice and convenient - but when it's time for our Black doctors to be on our side, he leans away. Simply put, Ben Carson is that one friend that just....
Won't.
Go.
Away.
We all know what friend who will do and say the dumbest things just to get noticed? That hypocritical friend that when he talks, you're like "Bruh.."? That's Ben Carson to me. A lot of people call him an "Uncle Tom" and a "Token", which I find offensive to my mans Uncle Tom AND my mans Token.
 | ||
| Token didn't take Cartman's shit for you to insult him this way. |
And honestly, my issue with Ben Carson isn't even that you think the "white man's ice is colder." Actually, I would like to think he realizes the struggles that a Black man has to overcome in order to make it in a society that begins profiling our sons when they are as young as the 4th grade. My overall issue with Ben Carson is that he's a bigot. And an idiot. And a little naive. And a bit of a hypocrite. But a lot of bigot.
Have you heard some of the things this guy has said? First, it's problematic that as someone running for this position, you can't explain the debt limit or your take on what to do. Secondly, those little comments that he made about the Oregon shooting? He only wants immigrants of the respectable sort, and then there are those pesky comments about Hitler and gun control - and dude even made a joke about it! And then was like.
 | |||||||
| I mean....but about those Jews and those guns, eh? EH? |
Carson, much like any Republican, is a bit heavy on the "Do as I say, not as I do" tip. He benefited from affirmative action, but feels that there is no need for it now because "race doesn't determine the underdog". He believes that the Japanese deserved their form of reparations, but that African Americans don't deserve reparations for slavery. Of COURSE, he has his nose in the womb of a woman, and I think that HE thinks that because he was in pediatric surgery, that he has the right to do so.
Lowkey....no. HIGHKEY. I think Ben Carson is auditioning to play the part of Vice President. You know how all the Vice Presidents act when they are auditioning - everybody is being loud and extra wrong. And extra simple. And that's one thing that makes him that ONE FRIEND. He's that one friend that wants you to know his triumph, but forget his struggle. He's that ONE friend that plays on being Black when it's nice and convenient - but when it's time for our Black doctors to be on our side, he leans away. Simply put, Ben Carson is that one friend that just....
Won't.
Go.
Away.
Sunday, October 11, 2015
If I Say I'm Pro-Sex
When I say that I'm "Pro-Sex", what's the first
word that you think of? Or when a woman
says she is sex positive - what string of words or sentences pops into the
cerebrum? Depending on who you are, you
may think that she is a "hoe" or even (gasp) a "Thot." Let's face it - fifteen years ago, you'd
never hear a song about a man giving a woman head, and if you did, it would be
so heavily metaphoric that you would have to decipher the code to understand
that 'Hey. He just said he'd perform oral sex on her!'
And must we be reminded of the shocked that occurred when emcees like Lil' Kim and Foxy Brown began to openly talk about sex, their expectations and how it should be? Oh, let's go further back. Salt and Pepa, anyone? Man, to think that those were the opening stages for a lot of young women's sexual questions (mine included because um - I wanted to know what a cock was) - and this was almost twenty years ago.
But even with this open shift of talking about eating
booties and eating a woman until she cries, there is still little room for a
woman to be open and frank about her sexuality, her appetite, and her prowess. You'd think it was still 1996 and the Lil' Kim had made another head reference on a mainstream track. Even Miss 65 Million Sold, Nicki Minaj, has had to take heat for her lyrics and overall sexual nature - But why?People view sex one of two ways - if you talk about sex too openly, you aren't wife(y) material and therefore, anything that is said can be dismissed with a simple wave of the fingers and a delete of the comment. Or, she gets the DM slide. Do I really have to explain the DM slide? Ok. The DM slide is when a guy or girl comes into your private messages, without warning, so they can proposition sexual situations or conversation. Most are pretty harmless. But many are predatory and vulgar. Extremely. Vulgar.
But I digress.
I find it interesting how we have to remain respectable. How we as women, even in 2015, have to act as
if sex is not a fun act - something that even now we aren't supposed to be able
to enjoy, much less discuss outside of....I don't know....knitting circles and
"girl time" get together. Eleanor Roosevelt once told her daughters that sex was needed, but cumbersome, situation, geared toward the pleasure of the man - and for the most part, she was right. Mainstream didn't talk about the woman's sexual pleasure until the 60s, but by then, it was engrained in us that "Ladies" don't talk about the bedroom. That "Ladies" don't discuss not being pleased. Simply put - a person who has a vagina has no say so in the implementation of pleasure or sexual activity.
But that's not the scary part, because people in general are not comfortable with
others being open and honest about the dirty deeds that we do between the
sheets. What's scary is that there is an
open push against the education and furthering of women's reproductive
rights. It's concerning. I can only have baby on the terms of others -
how is that freedom? How is that motherhood? Or womanhood for that matter. Even when it comes to who speaks for us, we
can't. A few years ago, a panel went in
front of the Senate to discuss the issues dealing with women's health, and the
panel was ALL MEN. Not. A. Pussy. In. Sight.
And trust me, when discussing those things that are sex positive and pro
sex, women's health is important. Just
as important, if not more so, than what makes her quiver. Dig me?
But look - questions? Comments? We will be discussing Men's sexual health too (Guest blogger in mind? Just give him my information) Let's just call me the Hood
Dr. Ruth (I just cracked myself up from that image LMAO). If I don't know the answer, I can find
it. If I can't find it - you may have
stumbled on something.
Saturday, October 10, 2015
The Queen Has Returned
It's been a long time. I shouldn't have left you without some dope words to read through.
Seriously. I haven't touched this since 2013 because I got tired. I got frustrated. Oh but my babies, a lot has happened since then.
Trayvon. Eric. Mike. Freddie. Sandra. Rekia. #BlackLivesMatter. Hands Up, Don't Shoot. #YouOkSis. Baltimore. Ferguson. NYC. Bruh, I know I'm missing some things - but the truth is - I didn't know what to say.
I didn't wanna be "that blog". I didn't want it to be alllllll political and black because that's taxing on MY soul. Being Black is hard enough - write about it every day? Shit. Between my facebook, my twitter, my IG, I felt like I was beating a dead horse. But I didn't want to be a blog that ignored it. So I had to let these energies balance out. Had to find focus. Had to get back to me. And sometimes, as a writer, that takes time. But guess what? I'm gonna quote our favorite fictional anti-hero right now.
"I'm back, bitches" - Luscious Lyons
So, no games. This month, I'm launching a podcast (I need a male cohort. Interested? Email me) I will be posting video content called "Mid-week Mind Games". Looking for guest bloggers, too.
The Nerdy Nonconformist is back.
Your favorite loud mouth is back.
Hold on. It's gonna be a bumpy ride.
Thursday, December 19, 2013
Why I Friend-Zoned You
*sigh*
I'm really tired of the complaints from the "Friend Zone".
It's not the Friend Zone isn't real; Oh, it's very real, and honestly, women get friend zoned WAY more than men. The thing is...it's all about WHO is friend zoning WHO and WHY.
I've friend zoned guys for a few reasons and when I get to talking to some women, I find that they had the same reasons as well. So, without further adieu, here are a few reasons why you got "Friend Zone."
1) I told you when we MET I wasn't looking for a serious relationship.
You saw me in the club. You complimented me. I complimented you. We had a drink. Danced a bit. And while we have a nice connection, I told you via text THAT NIGHT that I wasn't looking for a serious commitment. I told you that while we could chill, I don't want anything heavy; Dinner (maybe). Movies (occasionally). Sex (yes please). But nothing serious. Yet you continue to ask "What are we?" or "Where is this headed?" So yes. I friend zoned you out of peace of mind because you were becoming a bug a boo (Kelly Rowland head roll) and you had no respect for my space.
2) She was probably out of your (mental) league.
I'm not talking about your standards of money or status. I'm talking about your mental. See, MOST times, before a guy hollers at a woman, he does a QUICK background check, if it's as simple as "Yo, homey. Who is shorty with the fat ass?" Now, I know from EXPERIENCE that if a woman is a gold digger, a tease, or anything of that nature, ya'll will tell it. So if a homeboy says "Yo man. She's a bit of an academic. She's not going for simplistic, basic shit", and you know that you are a basic, simplistic ass cat.....well....yea. You'll get friend zoned. Us academic girls want to talk about more than pop culture and sex (although those two things are VERY fun to discuss) and let's be real; if you can't keep up mentally, you'll definitely lack everywhere else.
3) You're An Asshole.
No explanation needed. Women like Alpha Males. Not assholes. And chances are, you're the worst type of asshole: You don't know when to turn that mess OFF.
4) Three Words: "Homey, I'm Taken."
Let's be COMPLETELY real. A lot of the men complaining that they are in the friend zone were zoned by women in a relationship. Whether her relationship is on the outs, in good standing, or in between, she is committed to someone. See, a lot of men suffer from the same disease some women suffer from: IWantittis (pronounced i-Want-it-tis); like toddlers, they only want things when they see someone else playing with it. That same girl was single for YEARS, and the moment she got a man, suddenly you discover where you "lost" her number and you hit her with the "hey stranger". You set yourself up to be friend, counselor, helper to a woman whose heart belongs elsewhere to begin with. Then you wonder why she calls you her "best friend" and gets her back blown out by a dude who barely remembers her birthday.
Wanna get out the friend zone? Be yourself. Listen to what people say. And for Christ's sake, stop shooting for women who are committed, even if it's half hearted commitment. You'll fair a lot better.
I'm really tired of the complaints from the "Friend Zone".
No. Please. Continue rattling on about these video vixens that you are gunnin' for.
I've friend zoned guys for a few reasons and when I get to talking to some women, I find that they had the same reasons as well. So, without further adieu, here are a few reasons why you got "Friend Zone."
1) I told you when we MET I wasn't looking for a serious relationship.
You saw me in the club. You complimented me. I complimented you. We had a drink. Danced a bit. And while we have a nice connection, I told you via text THAT NIGHT that I wasn't looking for a serious commitment. I told you that while we could chill, I don't want anything heavy; Dinner (maybe). Movies (occasionally). Sex (yes please). But nothing serious. Yet you continue to ask "What are we?" or "Where is this headed?" So yes. I friend zoned you out of peace of mind because you were becoming a bug a boo (Kelly Rowland head roll) and you had no respect for my space.
2) She was probably out of your (mental) league.
I'm not talking about your standards of money or status. I'm talking about your mental. See, MOST times, before a guy hollers at a woman, he does a QUICK background check, if it's as simple as "Yo, homey. Who is shorty with the fat ass?" Now, I know from EXPERIENCE that if a woman is a gold digger, a tease, or anything of that nature, ya'll will tell it. So if a homeboy says "Yo man. She's a bit of an academic. She's not going for simplistic, basic shit", and you know that you are a basic, simplistic ass cat.....well....yea. You'll get friend zoned. Us academic girls want to talk about more than pop culture and sex (although those two things are VERY fun to discuss) and let's be real; if you can't keep up mentally, you'll definitely lack everywhere else.
3) You're An Asshole.
No explanation needed. Women like Alpha Males. Not assholes. And chances are, you're the worst type of asshole: You don't know when to turn that mess OFF.
4) Three Words: "Homey, I'm Taken."
Let's be COMPLETELY real. A lot of the men complaining that they are in the friend zone were zoned by women in a relationship. Whether her relationship is on the outs, in good standing, or in between, she is committed to someone. See, a lot of men suffer from the same disease some women suffer from: IWantittis (pronounced i-Want-it-tis); like toddlers, they only want things when they see someone else playing with it. That same girl was single for YEARS, and the moment she got a man, suddenly you discover where you "lost" her number and you hit her with the "hey stranger". You set yourself up to be friend, counselor, helper to a woman whose heart belongs elsewhere to begin with. Then you wonder why she calls you her "best friend" and gets her back blown out by a dude who barely remembers her birthday.
Wanna get out the friend zone? Be yourself. Listen to what people say. And for Christ's sake, stop shooting for women who are committed, even if it's half hearted commitment. You'll fair a lot better.
Monday, October 28, 2013
Jay-Z & Shopping While Black
So, by now, we all know the story of Trayon Christian, Barney's and the belt, right? Unless you've been under a pop culture rock, you've heard the stories, and all the follow up stories of how African Americans are being stopped after shopping in these expensive, upper class retail stores. Much like DWB (Driving While Black), SWB (Shopping While Black) is not a new level of racism; Ask any black kid who grew up in a middle to lower class neighborhood with a store ran by a Asian. We've been getting hit with the "Hurry Up And Buy" since before Menace to Society, so we were used to, and of course outraged, by this story. A young black male goes to buy a belt (something that will apparently prevent them from being profiled and treated badly according to black apologists and conservative whites) and he is....profiled...while buying the belt.
You know what I find hypocritically funny about Jay-Z? In 2010, he released the song "On To The Next One", where he famously says "I used to drink Cristal, them fuckers racist; Now I drink gold bottles; On to that Spade shit." So, he'll drop a corporate sponsorship or stop supporting with a company that shows racism toward HIM, but if a company shows it toward his fellow people, he "has to get all the facts."
Now, let this would have happened to...say....an Arab student? Or say, an Asian American? Their communities AND their celebrities would be on the ball. There would be no question. There would be no "oh, let's wait and see what the police say." The ball would be rolling. *scoffs* But not our community. Not our celebrities. Matter of fact, our celebrities apologize for others being racists to THEM. But let's address this current situation.
First, the young man was demonized for buying the belt by members of the black community (To which I say, to each his own. He worked HARD for his money; he has no other pressing responsibilities; let him go for it!) THEN, our black celebrities remained (not surprisingly) quiet. Which they always do; I never expect a black celeb to stand for anything anymore. Black A-Listers aren't into being "spokespeople" (which is fine) but they also tend not to stand for anything (which is always a concern).
Jay-Z is held to a different standard, no matter his feelings on the situation. Let's be honest: Jay-Z has marketed himself as being a rapper, a business man, and a man of the people. He is, no matter how he feels about it, New York's favorite *black* son, therefore what he and his family does is deemed important. So when a young Black man from NY is stopped at a store that Jay-Z shares a partnership with, OF COURSE people are looking to him with the confused face, especially when he says something like "oh, I don't know all the facts of the case, so that's why I didn't say anything sooner."
 |
| Sir. Sir. Stop it. |
Oh.
Sunday, October 27, 2013
Reattachment
I won't lie. I've been detached lately.
I don't know why either. You ever felt like you were floating through life? Like you were making it but not making it all at once? My sister calls it failing and succeeding at the same time, and I'm here for that description.
But I digress. I know ya'll don't come to my blog for my ventings on my personal life (that's what FB and twitter are for) but this is just a reminder that the kid's blog is still active and I will do better.
I won't lie. I'm apprehensive. Respected black female bloggers are having their content stolen on a regular and what's scary/funny/annoying/angering is that it's white academics stealing the info and claiming the research as their own. But I gotta get my words back out there. I think that's one reason for my season of depression and slight anxiety
But I digress. I'm reattached like Mr. Bobbitt's penis and I'm ready to go. Be in the lookout. Big ideas are coming :)
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