go!
it’s been 9 months since i’ve posted to this blog. long enough to have a baby… long enough for 2 seasons to go by… long enough to quit your job and start your own business… long enough to decide to begin telling the world that you’re a lesbian.
did i just say that? will people read it? what will they think? ugh, they’re going to start treating me all weird now. this is the series of questions that tumble around in my head daily. this is why i haven’t told my brother or father. petrifying fear of being rejected by the people i love the most. i came across a blog recently by a black women, my age, from the same state i’m from and has the best blog ever. no fancy words, just her daily goings-on and her figuring out her life in words. and she’s a lesbian. yes, too good to be true for someone like me who never thought i could figure out my sexuality at my own pace, at a level of transparency that’s comfortable for me (and by transparency, i mean completely anonymous). but this woman, alix, who is A LOT like me has done it. and so will i. i will get back to writing. just not on this blog. tattoos, brown skin, chopped locs, late mortgages, lesbians and straight girls alike. ooh this life! thank you for giving me the “ready, set go!” i needed.
little girl green
anyone who knows me knows that i am southern born and bred. it is one of the things i’m most proud of. southerners connect by food. we cook lots, eat lots and if you come over we pile your plate up with no regard for what you do or don’t eat. food is love and we love long, heavy and hard. as a little girl, i always preferred vegetables. but i always ate meat. all meat. chicken legs were my favorite- they’re easy for small hands to hold. but i also adored pork chops, fried fish, bacon and hot dogs. when my brother and i were little, we’d go visit my grandparents in virginia and my aunt judy would take us up to the zip-in and we’d get a hot dog with chili and cole slaw wrapped in wax paper. ah, i still get all warm inside when i think of those hot dogs…
as i got a bit older i can recall somehow being conscious of the importance of water and green vegetables. so altho i didn’t stop eating meat, i drank lots and lots of water and green veggies. in college, my brother- the cannabis loving, dredloc having, chew stick chewing, birkenstock wearing dude he was stopped eating meat. i didn’t know why and never asked. i just thought it was whay all dreds did. one day he and a few of his friends were at my apartment and they bet me that i couldn’t stop eating meat. i was eating (and enjoying) a big bowl of hamburger helper at the time of the debate. i vowed to stop eating pork and red meat, and i did! there in 1996, my junior year of college, i gave up cow and pig. and it was surprisingly easy. i discovered turkey products and kept it moving.
post graduate school i was working as a clinical therapist and living in washington, dc. i was 22. it was the first metropolitan area i’d ever lived in. i was familiar and very comfortable in “the city” from having spent so much time visiting my brother in brooklyn, ny where he’d since moved. i was beginning to understand and respect alternative ways of living, thinking and being. brooklynites were so incredibly creative and diverse and intentional. i would soak up all that i could when i was there. i was looking for that same energy in dc.
although i don’t recall the exact catalyst, stopped eating meat altogether in 2001. as i think about it more, i remember having had an issue with mold in my apartment which lead to 5 months of antibiotics (that didn’t work) to ultimately having to have my tonsils removed in january of 2001 and moving out of the apartment. i think that that experience gave me a consciousness to the body that i hadn’t experienced before. i’d had asthma all my life but that was “hereditary”- the issue with mold was a result of how severely my body was affected by something i was taking (breathing) in. so i began to be deliberate about what went into my body. i started with no meat, just fish to no fish. i was not as versed in what it meant to be vegetarian so i still ate eggs and drank milk. i lived this way for almost a year. in the year that i was in graduate school i’d expanded to a size 12 (from a 10) and during the year of going meatless, i dropped down to a small 8.
it was during this time that i began thinking about my family history. both of my grandfathers were alcoholics. heart disease, breast cancer, asthma, diabetes and obesity were diseases that plagued both sides of my family. my maternal grandfather died of sorosis of the liver in his 70s, my paternal grandfather died of a heart attack just before he turned 60 and my mother’s younger sister died of breast/brain cancer at the age of 36. i didn’t want to be obese and i certainly didn’t want to be sick. so i began learning about nutrition, whole foods, nutrients, etc. but somehow, during that time, i stopped. i began eating meat again, just not pork. i cycled this way for years. poultry, no poultry, beef (secretly and limitedly), no beef. eggs, no eggs. pork, no pork. it wasn’t until i began dating someone in 2007 that i abandoned all of my dietary convictions. he was 290 something pounds, 6 foot 6 and loved nothing more than meat and cheese. he’d eat steak for breakfast and literally put cheese on everything he ate. ironically, he went to the gym 6 days a week and spent some time modeling for his gym. he was the unhealthiest healthy person i knew! i spent most of my time with him and although i introduced him to some healthy eating habits, it was hard to stay focused on my own. i was wearing a bikini in puerto rico in fall of 2007 and by the spring of 2008 i’d gained 20 lbs.
after the most stressful and saddest breakup in the history of romance, i jumped back into the dance of meat and no meat. i knew more about wellness and holistic living that most health-nuts but i struggled to be consistent. i’d clean out my fridge, buy some books, a $50 container of green powder and start fresh- only to go through some unforeseen stressor with work or money or have something shatter my already fragile self-esteem and i’d find myself with a pot of chicken and dumplings simmering on the stove.
vegetarianism, veganism- it isn’t hard for me to let go of meat (cheese is a whole ‘nother story!). what is difficult for me is maintaining consistency and staying prepared. when all that’s around your home are fast food spots, pizza joints and chinese carry-outs, it’s difficult to find nutritional options in the moment. but lo, i am determined and i feel uncharacteristically confident this time! i gave alicia all my meats, spent 45 minutes with sue: the married, phenomenal-looking, vegan mother of 5 that works in the vitamin/nutritional section of whole foods! she gave me some invaluable information, resources and probably more free samples than the store would’ve liked. i am also reading the kind diet, by alicia silverstone. it is remarkable how much her personal philosophies resonate with me. most people who are close to me know how non-negotiable kindness is for me. i always make the distinction of being kind and being nice and how they are not the same. if someone were to ask me how i justify treating other people with kindness and love but don’t treat my own mind and body with the same regard… i wouldn’t have an answer. but i’m working on it. i’m more thoughtful about my relationships, how i speak to people, i am getting so much better at choosing me over someone else. everyday i become more and more conscious and awake so this change with food and the confidence i feel about it should not be so surprising to me.
am i going to become a shaman and set out to heal the bodies and spirits of all those i meet? nope. am i going to rid my life completely of all of my guilty pleasures? nope- i enjoy wine and the occasional mixed drink. but at just 25 days shy of my 34th earthday, i am very deliberate about how i live my life. i know exactly what i need to do to have peace and stillness of mind and to refer to myself as whole and healthy.
tis all…
In the Company of Women
I am not surprised because I am fully aware that many of the picture albums on my page are laden with me in full embrace with women. I am not surprised because there are more pictures of me kissing women and women kissing me than there are of me with men. I am not surprised because this is foreign to most black women. Black women touching one another… black women holding hands… black women saying ‘I love you’ as frequently as their mind remembers to…black women looking one another in the eye and not feeling envy… what a thought!?!? Because this sort of behavior is so completely foreign and unfamiliar- the (un)natural response is “They must be gay…”
I am loving, I am expressive, I am super tactile. It cannot end there, it seems. It has to be that there is an underlying desire on my part. How sad that the desire cannot be to make sure that those in my circle know that they are loved? It must be something else.
When I was a freshman in college, I had a shaven head. I cut my hair a week before I graduated from high school. I was one of maybe three women on the college campus with virtually no hair. I met a similarly short-haired girl, Ajoke’, from New Jersey. She was a lot like me: free spirited, loved to laugh, inherently kind, easy-going, undefined by her hair and appreciated people that lived life a bit left of the middle. We met and connected instantly. We shared everything from clothes to coins for laundry. I don’t think there were many people on campus like she and I so we stayed close. Many a night, she stayed in my dorm room. One room, one twin bed. This seemed odd to the girls on my hall: (There’s only one bed in that room, how is it that they are both sleeping in there?!) One day, a very somber-looking friend of ours sat us down and said “People on campus are starting to wonder if the two of you are gay…” She said it with the same affect as if someone back home had died and she were the bearer of bad news. I remember not getting it. I remember not understanding what was so awful about the comments and I remember Ajoke laughing at the girl. I knew that Ajoke and I wore clothes out of the same pile, walked across campus holding hands and took spontaneous trips to DC or NY with half a tank of gas and $27 between us. Hippies maybe, but lesbians we weren’t.
How do you explain to close-minded people that it’s enough just to simply enjoy being around someone? How do you have it make sense to people that this other person is so much like you, that it’s peace just to be in their space? How do you convince people that it’s just that simple and that there is nothing underneath it all? Maybe they aren’t close-minded, maybe they’ve just never trusted someone or themselves to be that open and free. That time in college was the first of maybe 3 or 4 times to date that people have said directly to me that they or someone they know has questioned my sexuality. It doesn’t make me mad- thankfully. I feel pity for the person who looks at close friendship between two women and tries to make it something else. Similarly, I feel sad for the person who looks at love between two people, no matter what sex, and see something abnormal.
How about that…? Love only makes sense if it makes sense to me. It’s only acceptable if the masses are comfortable with it. Imagine that…
I love my friends. Those eccentric, bold, temperamental, brave, way-paving, scared-but-we-do-it-anyway, women with all their “isms”. Regardless of how they show me love- I love all of them regardless. It is a loud, limitless, imposing, exoteric kind of love. And it doesn’t mean that I have some underlying, secret desire to be with them- it means I am thankful to know them. It means I am grateful for what they’ve taught me. It means I am whole and beautiful because of them. It means that I need them and that I appreciate that they never ever allow me to falter- well, most of them anyway. I kiss them, I give them gifts, I chat with them when I should be working, I hug them tight and long, I hold their secrets, I listen intently, I place their silly little pictures in frames all over my home, I give them parts of me (both objects and emotions) that I would never share under average circumstances.The impression, historically, is that women love and commit only to those things that fill a void that they’re incapable of filling on their own: men mostly but also money and hatred. That is where it begins and ends. Women only engage one another for what they can take and call their own or for what they can pinpoint as a weakness to make themselves feel less inadequate. Women do not compliment, praise, support or celebrate one another… unless there is something in it for them.
Dare I say this is the nature of black women?!!?!?!
I will continue to give and receive kisses from Denise smack dab in the mouth when I see her. Michele and I will continue to lie in my bed like Dorothy and Sophia with laptops on legs and cocktails in hand on a Saturday night when there’s nothing to do in the city. Quiana and I will continue to sit on the floor, eat greasy food and cackle out loud at silly stuff. I will always talk to Niki every day because 13 years is way too long to go without her in my life. I will be present for the birth of the next child Randi or Alicia may have if they ask me to. Crystal is the reason I will never take the spirit of forgiveness for granted. Michelle will always be my sister. I will always share my parents with Dani- she deserves that kind of love. I will forever admire Tiffany for her courage and for trusting me to be a part of her life.
So I am not mad that people are quick to label me. I am disappointed that so many people have never experienced the love of a friend. I guess if it doesn’t make sense to them, they have to find something wrong with it. I love my family and my friends- just because they bare the names and spirits that they do.
Dear Bajan… (a letter to the boy from Barbados)
Dear Bajan,
I want you to know that finding your emails here is hard. Finding my belongings that you’ve left at my door, is hard. The calls to my office makes things hard. The attempts to get into my email account make it hard. I know you are not trying to make this situation hard but it does. I want you to know, for the record, that I have NOT cheated on you. I want you to know that that is not what our break up is about.
I will try my best to explain it in a way that will make sense to you.
Dear Bajan, I have been thinking a lot about the past five years. A lot. I am no longer that person. I was self-loathing, I treated myself carelessly, I thought that everyone was better than me. I thought that I didn’t deserve goodness or happiness. I don’t feel that way anymore. When you moved away and I stopped seeing that other Northeast native- I felt even more empty and worthless. I hated myself for making excuses for dating a married man. I hated myself for trying to justify causing another woman pain and I hated myself for allowing Northeast to use me up. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I didn’t know who I was and I didn’t understand how I had let myself get involved in such a mess. So I did what most therapists won’t do- I got my head shrunk! I was suddenly no longer chasing you or Northeast, but I was chasing myself. At last. Calling you out of the blue the way I did was a mistake. It was unfair to you and your situation and it was probably too soon for me to get involved with you again knowing that I hadn’t TRULY worked through all of my own issues.
Dear Bajan, when you and I linked back up in May/June of 2007… as devastating as things were for you, as much as your life had been turned upside down- we were on a high. We were riding the wave. It’s the same wave we rode I 2004, when you were engaged and subsequently married. We knew it wasn’t the best time for us to be together but we did it anyway. You hadn’t worked through your issues (transparency, vulnerability, honesty, self-confidence) and I had abandoned the work I’d begun on mine (self-love, vulnerability, trust, self-confidence). So we once again were two people together at the wrong time. But we did it anyway. We both had demons that we still hadn’t dealt with- yours just manifested quicker than mine. You cheated on me and it changed the way that I looked at you. You were like God. You were an angel. You were heaven. Even though you had hang-ups and flaws, I had never been introduced to them. You hid them well. So I created in my mind WHO I THOUGHT YOU WERE. That was unfair to you. That set you up for failure. There was no way on earth that you’d be able to maintain that image I had of you. After you lied to me I didn’t know how to look at you, I didn’t know how to trust you, I had to figure out who you were and I was ANGRY. I no longer knew how to move forward with you.
The other thing you should know about me Dear Bajan is that I have said for YEARS that “I want to be in a relationship… I want a boyfriend” but I had no idea what that meant. I thought RELATIONSHIP = SOMEONE LOVES ME and that made me feel whole. It never dawned on me that my life would have to change. It never dawned on me that I would have to have a new routine. I never dawned on me that I would have to work. It never dawned on me (particularly with you) that we could have problems. So I find myself in place that doesn’t feel… good. I am with this man that I’ve wanted for YEARS, why isn’t it working? Why did he lie? Why don’t I enjoy going back and forth between my own house and his? Why aren’t I able to make love to him? What’s wrong with me?
Dear Bajan, because we have a history of problems, because we began with problems and created problems early in our relationship, the core of our relationship was FIXING PROBLEMS. My love for you was always there but my desire to be in the relationship started to fade. In the past year we worked hard in therapy, we worked hard with each other and I saw how hard you’d worked to change things about yourself. I was so proud of you and had so much respect for you. Not many men have the determination to do what you do. But I felt guilty. I’d done none of the homework that Dr. Silver Spring gave me. I didn’t seek individual counseling she’d told me to. I knew that I wanted to get out of the relationship but you were always so determined and optimistic about making it work. Because you had more experience than I did, I followed your lead. I ignored what my gut was telling me and hoped and prayed that my feelings would change. There were times when I would lay in the bed and say to myself “Girlchild, if you’re not happy you shouldn’t stay” but then I’d say “ But he’s worked so hard on himself. He’s fought so hard for this relationship. He has so many plans for the two of you. It will kill him if you leave, girchild. Stop thinking negatively and stay.” But I couldn’t. It never went away. I just stopped talking about it.
I still enjoyed spending time with you and you still made me laugh it’s just that I no longer felt connected to the relationship. Instead I constantly tried to convince myself that someday… I would wake up happy and sure and confident about us. But I didn’t. These past few months that I’ve seemed distant dear Bajan, it isn’t because I’ve been cheating. It isn’t because I’ve been lying. It’s because I’ve been having a really serious conversation with myself and trying to decide, on my own, how long I was going to live a life of uncertainty. How long was I going to just allow you to constantly worry and wonder if I was going to leave you. How long was I going to let you sit and rack your brain about how to make me happy. It isn’t fair. Just like me, YOU DESERVE TO BE HAPPY. Although you love and adore me… you have not been happy, you’ve been hopeful. You’ve been optimistic. But you’ve also been worried and anxious and scared that I would leave. And because I love you so much, I couldn’t just keep on letting you be in that state. It felt cruel. It felt heartless and it felt wrong. As scared as I was of hurting you, I knew it would hurt you more if I stayed with you. I know you can’t see happiness and joy past me but me staying in this relationship and not being able to move forward in it- I am holding you up. Holding you hostage. It is wrong.
But I have learned to love myself enough to realize that I’m also holding up my own life by staying in this relationship. I deserve happiness too- whatever that looks like. If that means I live my life as a single woman, or I travel, or I move up the career ladder, adopt 6 dogs, open a café in California… If I do ALL OF THAT or none of that- I deserve happiness too. And I have to figure out what that looks like for my life- on my own.
There are some things that I want you to know: I love you Bajan of mine. I am not mad at you. I do not hate you. I have not cheated on you. I have become a woman because of you. I have learned about myself and my life through you. You are the most beautiful, loving, thoughtful, generous person that I have ever met. I wish that we had gotten our shit together before we got involved. I am thankful that you got to know my father. It is and will forever be one of the most important things to me. I was ALWAYS proud to hold your hand. I was always PROUD to be on your arm. I will always be proud that you chose me and trusted me with your vulnerabilities and I hope you don’t regret it. You and I are better people because of this relationship and that is something that belongs to only us. You are my friend, regardless. I am always here if you need me- for anything at all.
Take good care of yourself (that includes your health)…
You and your homeopathic remedies…
Confession: I have to force myself to write at times. It’s much easier the think things as opposed to writing them out.
Every time I feel it I run for the Aloe Vera juice. Praying that it will stop the dull, slow burn. It’s hard to believe that acid reflux is something that comes from within the body, cuz I swear it feels like someone has poured sulfuric acid down my esophagus and added a hint of ground glass for flavor. It feels awful. It held my entire Saturday hostage… and then the rest of the demons started to arrive.
Let me start from the beginning: I’ve had acid reflux, to a mild degree since… well since I lived on Avebury Dr. in Laurel, so since 2000 or so. I remember going to the doctor for it and them giving me a pill that brought on immediate headaches. So of course I stopped taking it. Not much noise from it for many years, just a little ache here and there. Then in say, 2007, 2008 and up to now… something about my life has convinced my stomach that I am stressed out. What started to happen is, after a fit of crying or rage; my poor belly would fill with fire. I began taking these pills my mother gave me but the naturalist in me preferred apple cider vinegar and or Licorice Root tea. It worked, for a time. Until Saturday…
April 11:
The morning
Some time during the day, my belly began to burn. I am very familiar with the feeling so I dutifully grabbed the bottle of organic apple cider vinegar, poured it like a cocktail with a dash of water, and settled onto the recliner.
The afternoon
I am moaning and my legs are responding to the pain with slow, repeated movements. By now, the Bajan has brought aloe juice and a bottle of ginger ale. The vinegar cocktail tastes like sour nothingness and the waves of acid are kicking against my diaphragm. I am now contemplating my trust in homeopathic medicine. One has NO IDEA how truly committed they are to natural medicine until their laid up in pain.
The evening
I’m tired of crying. And I’m incredibly hungry but have no idea what my stomach will hold. The Bajan is at PF Chang’s with a friend so I text and try hard not to guilt him into coming home… I ask for steamed shrimp dumplings and wonton soup instead. By 15 minutes after 11pm, and 3 dumplings in, the Bajan, in a moment of humorous pity, I suppose, hand me two Prilosec pills. I take them, shame and guilt don’t stop me. Before I knew it, the pain was gone.
April 14:
I was having a really hard time getting comfortable in the bed. 9pm became 10pm and I was barely able to close my eyes. That’s unacceptable for the girl who loves to sleep. The pain seemed familiar. Gas in my chest, bouncing off of my organs, moving around like the air bubble in a furniture leveler. Maybe the brussel sprouts, maybe the asparagus… maybe residual gas from all the acid in my gut over the weekend. I don’t know what to take. Let me not lie- had I had a bottle of Pepto I would’ve drank it until it ran dry. But I had nothing.
April 15
I am in too much pain to go to work. The pain in my chest will not allow me to inhale deeply or swallow food without wincing. I am explaining to the blue-eyed sister with the short, tightly coiled natural that the natural remedies haven’t worked for the acid reflux. She never seems to pay attention when I speak of my commitment to a mostly natural lifestyle. “Doc, I realize that I’m always talking about bee pollen and mycoprotein when I come in here and I got that you could give a shit. Understand that I am a wayward and misguided soul that’s a little bit drunk off vinegar but I need some really strong drugs for my stomach and something to deflate the balloons trapped in my chest cavity” This is what I tried to articulate. Who knows what I actually said. None the less, she sent me home with a short list of Prilosec, Beano and Gas X. I had ingested each one before the sun went down.
April 16
Who know a 32 year old woman could get a 10:50am appointment at a night time emergency room for children. It had to yield some sort of success, it was too much of an oxymoron not to. Me and the Bajan watched The Lion King while waiting for the doctor. This short, handsome, Indian man came in with a smile wide enough to scare away any ailment. “You born in India?” “No sir (very confused)… oh my back, no I studied eastern philosophy when I was in college” “That’s Hindi on your back!” “Yes sir, Sanskrit.” “I know, I know.” (whispering to himself) “You can read it?!” “Of course!” “Well, let us see what is going on with your chest and I read it to you”
Sounds like a deal to me!
The nice, multilingual, Indian prescribed me Torodal. He calls it a muscular-skeletal inflammation. I call it debilitating. Michele says it’s safe to take it while drinking so that’s a plus. I’m angry at my body. I am angry that she is rejecting all of Mother Nature’s gentle tinctures and powders- as good as I’ve been to her. Traitor of a body!!!
So fuck it, whatever works! And what works are Tylenol with Codeine, and nameless muscle relaxers… the Torodal on helped a little bit.
April 17
No work today either. I figure if I’m having a muscle issue, movement is the last thing I need. Better to lie as still and as flat as I possibly can for the day. I slept, the Bajan cooked. Breakfast and dinner. And for dessert, he invited my cousin who came bearing gifts in the form of pills. God bless her and her stash.
April 19
I am still in pain and I just took the last of the nameless muscle relaxers. I have one crack pill (Tylenol/Codeine) left. I need to save that. I’m going to attempt to go to work tomorrow so if I want to wake up before noon, I shouldn’t take it. I go see the gastro-intestinal specialist on Tuesday, who knows what they’ll find lurking in my digestive tract. A strawberry patch probably. Regardless, the pain has moved from my chest and found refuge in my lower left back. I don’t know what any of it means. I know that I weigh 161lbs and I’ve just purchased a bike and decided against meat in excess so it’s going to come off. And just as soon as the pain is gone, it’s back to my powders and teas.
Thanks.
The loud mouth
My television isn’t working. It would be my luck that they give me the defective cable box twice. At least I know it isn’t my television. They say flat screens are impossible to repair.
So, with no television, I’ll have to lull myself to sleep with words both typed and sung…
He is downstairs. My boyfriend. The Bajan. I know that he doesn’t like staying here overnight. Normally, it bothers me but tonight I don’t care… as long as he’s here so I’m not so afraid. Still afraid, just not as. It bothers me that he stays downstairs and I, upstairs. Like roommates. I don’t know if it’s the whole man-cave thing or the whole privacy thing. I think it’s both. I think men have this innate thing about creating dens. Like dogs. The messier, smellier, junkie, absence of estrogen-er- the better. But with him, the pull in my belly tells me that it’s also late night texts and/or calls. It’s just a feeling. I don’t know for sure. But I will. It’ll become clear. It always does. I just don’t typically listen.
There’s always something to explain it away. Some weird happenstance that shuts down my hunch. Like my proverbial, jump out the closet “A-HA! Caught you!” moment that I set up so nicely… and everyone seems ordinary and plain. I’m left scratching my head. Not really knowing how to prove that I know what I know. Something is amiss but everything seems to be in place so you sort of have to let it go.
But my I know what I feel. My intuition rarely keeps her mouth shut these days.
Kiss My Placenta!
This read/write never gets old to me no matter how many times I read it and the realization of how relevant this conversation continues to be made me decide to post it. Since being in a “grown up” relationship for the past two years, the conversation often goes like this with family and friends:
Them: Oh, you’re in a relationship?
Me: Yes.
Them: How long?
Me: A couple years now.
Them: Oh good, so when are y’all getting married?
Me: Married…? I think we’re fine the way we are.
Them: Aww, you should get married, then you’ll be complete!
Then it starts. The back and forth about why marriage must be the end result. Why preference, lifestyle, culture, religion, orientation- must be one that society at large recognizes or is at least familiar with or else it’s somehow wrong or whacky. Evolution and growth and change and experimenting and trying out is a good thing and no, it isn’t reserved for wayward adolescents. In my messy little mind, if I think and operate today, the way I did 5 years ago… something is amiss. I am not paying close enough attention. I am not growing. I am being avoidant.
I appreciate my aunt’s words: “In life Dina, there isn’t THE way to do anything, but there is a way”. Exactly. My “ideal” anything doesn’t have to be yours and yours doesn’t have to be mine. I think that’s why I’m such a culture vulture… I respect people carving their own paths instead of getting in line behind everyone else. I enjoy learning about the lens through which other people see the world.
Calling their perspective wrong just because it doesn’t match mine doesn’t make much sense to me… So, yea, I understand Erykah giving “us” the business for judging her choice for carrying a third baby by a third man …
I get it.:
peace,
HOW DARE YOU DISRESPECT THE QUEENDOM
…AND MY CHILDREN AND MY INTELLIGENCE.
ive never been so disgusted in all of my life.
there is no other place i used to enjoy more.
i post no where else.
you guys have taken an all time low, tho.
I’LL STATE MY PEACE
i am a great mother and care giver to my 2 children and to this world.
my children are 2 of the kindest and happiest people i have met.
I home schooled them and taught them the ways of good to the best of my ability.
i am their doctor and their nurse.
and even sometimes their mother and their father.
i am an excellent mother and resent all of the negative comments and insults on my character.
I PUT MUCH TIME AND THOUGHT INTO HAVING AND RAISING MY CHILDREN.
IVE HAD THE HONORS OF HAVING 2 HOME BIRTHS AND 2 WONDERFUL PARTNERS BY MY SIDE.
every relationship i have been in was because i loved the person DEARLY and was dedicated to us “exclusively” FOR A NUMBER OF YEARS.
the fathers of my children are my brothers and friends.
we have a great deal of respect for one another and always will.
WE LOVE OUR CHILDREN TO NO END.
we took our own “vows” and CONTINUE TO UPHOLD THEM.
AND THAT IS WHAT THAT IS .
question?
WHAT IS MARRIAGE?
WHO IS THE JUDGE?
WE ONLY UNDERSTAND THE EXAMPLES WE ARE GIVEN (well sort of)
WOULD IT “LOOK BETTER” TO MARRY AND DIVIORCE AND MARRY AGAIN?
WOULD THAT BE MORALLY CORRECT?
WHATS THE DIFFERENCE? the government’s involvement i guess.
IDEALLY, IT WOULD BE EXCELLENT TO FIND THE MAN OR WOMAN WHO FULFILLS YOUR SPIRIT AND STAY FOR EVER AND EVER (thru sickness and health till death do us part) AND HAVE HEALTHY STRONG CHILDREN AS A RESULT OF A HEALTHY AND STRONG UNION.
(this CAN happen … we need much training , however.)
OR
IS IT REALLY “GOOD” TO STAY IN A RELATIONSHIP WHERE BOTH PARTIES ARE UNFULFILLED , LONGING FOR RELIEF , BRINGING one another down as a result of improper training, creating BAD ENERGY AND EXPERIENCES FOR THE CHILD TO REPEAT?
(not to mention breeding deceit and anger and resentment)
SEEMS TO CREATE FEARFUL CHILDREN WHO TURN INTO FEARFUL ADULTS.
HOW MANY OF YOU GREW UP IN 2 PARENT HOMES THAT WERE MISERABLE AS FUCK?
OR 2 PARENT HOMES THAT WERE NOT PERFECT BUT WORKED?
HOW MANY GREW UP IN ONE PARENT HOMES WHERE THE MOTHER WORKED HARD TO MAKE SURE YOU WERE CARED FOR BUT SHE WASNT QUITE HAPPY?
HOW ABOUT A HOME WHERE THE FATHER WAS THE MAIN CARE GIVER AND DID THE BEST HE COULD -LACKING NURTURE?
HOW MANY OF YOU HAVE A SIBLING THAT HAS A DIFFERENT FATHER OR MOTHER?
DOES HE OR SHE MEAN LESS TO YOU?
HOW MANY OF YOU HAVE MORE THAN 1 MOTHER OR FATHER OF YOUR OWN CHILDren?
HOW MANY OF YOU HAD/OR/ARE PARENTS RESPONSIBLE ENOUGH TO MAKE GOOD DECISIONS FOR YOURSELF AND YOUR CHILDREN, THAT DONT QUITE FIT ANY OF THESE DESCRIPTIONS?
HOW MANY OF YOU STAY IN UNHEALTHY RELATIONSHIPS FOR FEAR OF GOING TO HELL?
HOW MANY HOS OUT THERE … THAT HAVE KIDS TO GET A PAYDAY?
HOW MANY PEOPLE GETTING THEY ASS KICKED AND ARE FORCED TO SUBMIT CAUSE YO MAMA GOT HER ASS KICKED?
THEN WHAT is CORRECT?
how about this:
I PRAY WITH MY CHILDREN
I FEED THEM GOOD FOOD
THEY RESPECT PEOPLES DIFFERENCES
THEY TRAVEL THE WORLD WITH ME
THE KNOW WHO THEY ARE
THEY ADORE THEIR FATHERS AND ARE LOVED BY 2 PARENTS OR MORE -
OR TWO OR MORE SETS OF LOVING GRANDPARENTS
THEY CRY
THEY GET HURT
THEY GET SICK
THEY HEAL
THEY ARE real
THEY ARE NOT AN IDEA or a TOPIC
AND NEITHER AM I.
I AM ALIVE.
I AM BEAUTIFUL WOMAN.
I AM A GOOD WOMAM.
I AM GROWING
I AM COMPLETE WITH OR WITHOUT A PARTNER AND WILL ALWAYS BE
AND I HAVE DREAMS OF A FAMILY STRUCTURE
ALL OF MY DREAMS DO NOT COME TRUE
AND DESPITE ALL OF THE PAIN IN MY LIFE …
IN MY MOTHERS LIFE …
IN MY GRANDMOTHERS LIFE
WE HAVE ALWAYS ENDURED
AND THERE IS SO MUCH JOY TO BE EXPERIENCED.
I NEVER HAD A FATHER AND I DONT KNOW WHAT THAT FEELS LIKE -
BUT MY CHILDREN DO, AND THEY LOVE THEIR ‘PARENTS’.
WE ARE THEIR CHAMPIONS.
live how you want. follow which ever pattern YOU like.
MY CHILDREN WILL BE LEADERS
and they will not ever be slaves to this society’s failing idea of morality.
THEY OWN THEIR MINDS AND THEIR DREAMS.
BIRTH CONTROL lol … could have 10 babies instead of 2.
I LOVE CHILDREN AND I WILL HAVE AS MANY AS GOD WILL GIVE ME.
I AM VERY HEALTHY AND RESPONSIBLE AND SO ARE ALL OF MY PARTNERS
I CHOSE THEM WISELY AND SOBERLY.
ALL GOOD BROTHERS.
your opinions lack experience and are not only careless but also very uninformed and immature.
nothing is sacred here. and i see why.
if i loose you as a fan because i want to continue to have children then
FUCK OFF… WHO NEEDS YOU ….CERTAINLY NOT ME … KICK ROCKS … CALL TYRONE … PACK LIGHT …. BITE ME
i have defended myself here ON THIS SITE and hurled a few insults.. but only in response to your insults of
my music, my clothes, my lyrics, my hair, my being a woman, my spirit, my choices of partners….
these have all been on trial here. and i continued to support the energy of this place.
this is to all the okay players / REAL HUMAN BEINGS hiding behind screen names in order to insult one another and who ever else you will.
geeeez…
i had to say something
i am so sad for parents who try, today guys
enough is enuf.
dont judge to quickly, OKAY PLAYER?
i know you are having fun, but what if it were you and your children?
my son is 10.
my daughter, 4.
peace
ANALOGUE GIRL
and if this post is not clear
kiss my placenta.
Sufficient
I am listening to my cousin snore. She is spending the night to keep me company and upbeat after yet another break-up with my boyfriend… but I am awake and she is very asleep.
Despite our most recent, ambiguous, overwhelming break-up, I am wishing right now that I was over his house. Anticipating how in the hell I’m going to sleep when my cousin leaves. The mini-van that has circled my street isn’t helping. The “normal” fear that is always with me, that people always make fun of- this isn’t that. This is worry and fright that in my town there have been 3 different double murders to take place since January. There was a 4th yesterday but the only reason I am not counting it is because I don’t know how close/far the town is to me. I am afraid.
No, I am always afraid. I am frightened.
I am frightened that I will be awaken out of my sleep by a loud noise that will leave me so paralyzed with fear that I will not remember the plan (I rehearse in my mind every night) of how to get out. I am frightened that these crazed, evil killers will sniff out my fear. I try to tell myself that I am one of hundreds of thousands of houses in this town but I worry that my fright is so loud and pronounced that I will give myself away. I worry about my parents and how they would go on with a murdered daughter.
I have thought of calling my aunt. She says the best prayers and knows just how to fill a space with comfort. Those prayers have always calmed me. I haven’t called. I’m not sure why. For over a week now I have jumped out of bed to run to the window and scope out a strange car, waited until daybreak to close my eyes and imagined what it must be like to be raided with terror just before you die.
So I cannot sleep… regardless of how exhausted I am. For now the rain and my cousin’s snores will have to suffice.
Don’t call.
I don’t think that there’s anything worse than sitting in a supervision session and you suddenly notice the gathering around your closed door of all the women in the office area. The door opens and the receptionist hands you a big green box of flowers…
The women wait for my reaction as she hands the rectangular box over as if she’s handing me my first born. They all smile and wait to see me blush and open the box with giddy excitement. I don’t. Instead I frown, my eyes well and I take the box and sit it on the floor. They recede… unsure of what to do and what my reaction means. “Thank you”, I say, and shut the door.
Clinician: Um… you don’t want to open them?
Me: No.
Clinician: Would you like me to take them out for you?
Me: Please.
Clinician: Not a problem (gathering her daily planner and balancing the box in her arms). Can I give you a hug? (setting her belongings back down and knocking the papers over on my desk)
Me: (eyes welling) sure.
We hug. Me much tighter than she. She picks up her things and walks towards the door. I am searching through blinded eyes for tissue. Just as she turns to leave:
Me: Open the box, if they’re from my parents bring them back down, if they’re not, don’t call, take them home and give them some water.
She never called.
a woman… with little girl features
I am completely exhausted for so many reasons. Well really just one. I tried to wait up for the sun this morning. I didn’t make it. Exhaustion trumped fear and anxiety. I broke up with him yesterday. I said it. All. In one fell swoop. Like a big girl. Like an adult. Like a brave woman. And he… fell apart. Called incessantly. Begged, pleaded, asked and asked again. And again. And I stood firm, in my big girl shoes. Owning myself. Protecting myself. Loving myself first, for the first time. I felt overwhelming relief. I didn’t expect it. I expected to feel hollow and vacant. But I don’t. I feel loose. I don’t feel happy yet. I think happy is going to take some time to thaw out. But I’m certain. I am sad for him. I know he doesn’t understand anything right now expect the pain.
I don’t know how tomorrow will be. Michele advises that this is the hardest part. If it is, then I may be okay. In this moment that’s how I feel. Two hours ago I was sitting in the kitchen crying and an hour before that I was crying and earlier this morning I was so filled with anxiety, I attempted to meet the sun.
Right now I am a woman…with little girl features. Still learning how to be kind and play fair… with herself.
