cause i'm not feelin much like anything today, a video for your viewing pleasure.
the modern day matchmaker...
cheesy but oh so good.
Showing posts with label Black men. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Black men. Show all posts
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Thursday, March 18, 2010
the intimidation factor
so a couple weeks ago i met a guy. let's call him kirk. he seemed nice enough. a couple years younger than me, but he had a professional degree and a stable job. not that i get wet over such things, just sayin'. he was pleasant enough to talk to and a self-described nerd. he was quite tubby (read: fat) but i figured i'd keep an open mind since i'm no america's next top model. i'd be toccarra, phabulously fierce!
now before our first official "date", i did a little recon. i found out that a really good guy friend of mine went to grad school with kirk so i asked my friend about him. he gave me the 411 and then asked why i wanted to know. when i told my friend that i was going to be meeting kirk for a "date" he laughed and said "nah homie, can't sign off on that one. he's not on your level."
i was flattered and thanked my friend for his insight but didn't cancel drinks with kirk. i couldn't let one person's assessment prevent me from finding out more about kirk beyond his stats, right?. so i accepted kirk's invite for after work drinks. as i was leaving work to meet kirk, he contacted me to cancel. work ran late. i suggested lunch on saturday instead and he agreed. saturday came and the noon hour passed with no word from kirk. around 3, he called to explain. lost cell phone, didn't have your number, found cell phone, apologies, blah blah blah.
ummmm ok. i started to see what my friend meant. but being the nice gal that i am, i gave kirk one mo' chance, biggie, biggie you get one mo' chance. and so we finally had dinner the following thursday. and kirk was aight. not fantastic, not horrible, but aight. we had a nice pleasant dinner with some interesting conversation and at the end of the night, i figured i might have made a new friend.
and then the cycle started all over again. kirk suggested we get drinks after work on monday and then proceeded to pull an "oh never mind" an hour before we were supposed to meet. in the next breathe he suggested dinner the next night. by now i'd had enough. i sweetly but firmly told kirk that i'd rather not make any future plans to meet until he could get over his case of the flakes. i asked him not to suggest any more "dates" unless he knew he could keep them.
and then i got the most bitchassedness text message today. kirk tells me he doesn't have time to date, despite my being smart, funny, very attractive, and well just great, he hopes we can remain friends.
jigga what?!?!? jigga who does that? by text no less. my guy friend said i told you so and my sistafriends said you didn't want to date him anyway. but that's besides the point. how you gone have time to be friends but not have time to date? riddle me that. part of me thinks good riddance to bad rubbish but part of me thinks he's lying. but for why? was he just not feeling a sista? was he intimidated? was he really just that damn busy? or not ready to follow through on plans to meet? not that i'll be losing any sleep over it for these are the days of my life as a single lady. but still...who does that?
what say ya'll?
Thursday, January 7, 2010
ok ma, and? or why single successful black women might need to get over themselves
*author's note: this post is long as hell shawty but i had a lot to say about the topic. enjoy!*
we all know her. we might be her.
25-40
black
female
degreed
self-proclaimed "professional"
dresses well
hair did
wants to be married with kids
but SINGLE, and secretly (or unashamedly) despising every minute of her singlehood.
i understand it's hard out here for a black woman. we gotta deal with a lot of shit. historically we've had to deal with a lot of shit. but just like jewish folks weren't the only group of folks that were ever enslaved tortured and massacred, we aren't the only demographic that has to make a way outta no way. it's hard out here for pimps. hoes. asian men. nigerian terrorists. baby right whales. walmart cashiers. you follow me?
but somewhere along the way, little black girls who grew up into accomplished black women picked up this attitude. this air about them. a couple of traits, frames of mind, or points of reference that have screwed up (some of) our heads and quite possibly hindered our own progress, fed our own relationship failures: a sense of ENTITLEMENT & an INABILITY TO CHANGE.
the common thread between the widely discussed washington post article on helena andrews and the abcnews piece (via blacksnob.com) on black women unmarried was the idea that because "successful" black women ("SBW") have worked so hard to get the degree(s), have toiled to buy homes, fancy cars, nice clothes, and the hottest shoes, spent hours at the gym getting their bodies tight, shelled out beaucoup cash getting their hair and nails done, and faithfully attended and tought sunday school at the neighborhood church they ought to have a "successful" black man.
they deserve him. he is their due. not to mention that they are more deserving of a man, and more particularly what they consider to be a quality man, than women who don't have degrees, don't have "they shit together."
first and foremost, i think, feel, and know that love is hard! true love is a privilege. to find the right person at the right time is a challenge. every person on the planet doesn't get the opportunity to have it. there is no formula for it.
and so to imagine yourself entitled to love, marriage and a baby carriage just because you have achieved those things that make you successful (on paper) or in the eyes of your mamanem doesn't necessarily mean you'll be successful in marriage. the skills and know-how you learned and used to get the degree, the job, the promotion are not AT ALL the same ones needed to find, attract, and keep a man who wants to be married.
the sense of entitlement really becomes apparent when you look at the SBW's reaction to married/engaged/boo'ed up women who they think are "less than." especially if these women are with men who the SBWs think ought to be with them. prime example: the backlash against reggie bush on the cover of essence this month (check the comments). black women go HOARD when they think someone less than is getting what's theirs. let a man with a law degree wife a woman without a comparable level of status. how dare he!
sadly ladies, he can and he will. cause what you as a SBW bring to the table might not be what your targeted pool of men is looking for. and an entitled attitude won't change that. love doesn't work the way that grad school admissions do. you might could be mad that homegirl from state university got in over you, harvard graduate. but in love, you ass out. he gotta want you too and maybe what you present isn't what he wants. what do you do then?
which brings me to the second problem SBWs have: a hard time changing.
now helena andrews and her friends presented themselves as accomplished, successful, having standards but carrying an edginess, a bitch side if you will. ms. andrews might be a self-described “mean girl.” that's cool. you can be alladat. but SBWs who take on that mantle must also realize what comes with that in terms of finding a husband.
if your m.o. is to be tough/bitchy/attitudy/overly sassy/a mean girl then you have to understand what that means for your dating prospects. you have to be cognizant of how men perceive you.
let me give an example ya'll can identify with.: a friend of a friend is in her mid-30's and wants to be married. she's fly, attractive and doing it real big in her field. she's won lots of awards for her work. but she's also very brisk, curses a whole lot, and generally abrasive. and she don't want to change. she say she is who she is and that men oughta take her as she is.
i can get wit that on some levels. you are who you are. people can take it or leave it. don't go changing for the world. the man who can love you for you will come along. right?
WRONG. this is the lie, the falsehood, the myth that SBWs have bought into. you can't have it all. do you wanna be married or do you wanna stay the way you are and do what you wanna do for the rest of your life? either choice is fine but you can't do both. being in a relationship and/or married requires compromise, change over time. being less of yourself at times so your partner can be more. i'm not saying you have to do a 180 change to get a man but you can't continue to be every single fiber of who you are without some reflection on how every single fiber of who you are has (or has not) worked for you in terms of finding a man. and if finding a man is your priority you might have to change a fiber or two.
take michelle obama, the SBWs poster child for seemingly being able to have it all. michelle couldn't be the high powered executive and the FLOTUS. just wasn't gonna happen. she couldn't even be the local politician's wife and the big law firm partner at the same time for that matter. when barack decided he wanted to run she had to decide what she was gon do. the new supporting role she was gonna have to play for the family. she couldn't be running shit her way. she couldn't be resistant to change. right now she's sitting down while he stands up. that's part of the compromise of saying to yourself, i wanna be part of a we instead of just unchanged me.
or take ms. nicole from the video: prosecuting attorney, running for state court judge, atlanta falcons cheerleader, drives a benz, lightskinneded, long hair, unmarried, no boo in sight. she is doing the MOST. when she gonna have time for a man? cause men want to feel wanted and important. to know you have time for them in your life. that you aren't running all over the place (or so i'd imagine). nicole might wanna talk to some of her married friends and change some things. or not. just keep doing what you been doing.
or other black woman who said she met a white man, they vibed over drinks and conversation. she thought to herself, "oh he's gonna ask for my number." but he didn't. another woman suggested she shoulda asked for his. "no! i don't do that." and you remain alone. why don't you "do that"? has not "doing that" been working for you thus far? you might wanna consider changing things up. if you're not comfortable asking for a number, suggest another outing. slip him your business card with your number. CHANGE what you normally do. or not. and be who you are. but don't expect different results. you can't do both.
what say ya'll?
we all know her. we might be her.
25-40
black
female
degreed
self-proclaimed "professional"
dresses well
hair did
wants to be married with kids
but SINGLE, and secretly (or unashamedly) despising every minute of her singlehood.
i understand it's hard out here for a black woman. we gotta deal with a lot of shit. historically we've had to deal with a lot of shit. but just like jewish folks weren't the only group of folks that were ever enslaved tortured and massacred, we aren't the only demographic that has to make a way outta no way. it's hard out here for pimps. hoes. asian men. nigerian terrorists. baby right whales. walmart cashiers. you follow me?
but somewhere along the way, little black girls who grew up into accomplished black women picked up this attitude. this air about them. a couple of traits, frames of mind, or points of reference that have screwed up (some of) our heads and quite possibly hindered our own progress, fed our own relationship failures: a sense of ENTITLEMENT & an INABILITY TO CHANGE.
the common thread between the widely discussed washington post article on helena andrews and the abcnews piece (via blacksnob.com) on black women unmarried was the idea that because "successful" black women ("SBW") have worked so hard to get the degree(s), have toiled to buy homes, fancy cars, nice clothes, and the hottest shoes, spent hours at the gym getting their bodies tight, shelled out beaucoup cash getting their hair and nails done, and faithfully attended and tought sunday school at the neighborhood church they ought to have a "successful" black man.
they deserve him. he is their due. not to mention that they are more deserving of a man, and more particularly what they consider to be a quality man, than women who don't have degrees, don't have "they shit together."
first and foremost, i think, feel, and know that love is hard! true love is a privilege. to find the right person at the right time is a challenge. every person on the planet doesn't get the opportunity to have it. there is no formula for it.
and so to imagine yourself entitled to love, marriage and a baby carriage just because you have achieved those things that make you successful (on paper) or in the eyes of your mamanem doesn't necessarily mean you'll be successful in marriage. the skills and know-how you learned and used to get the degree, the job, the promotion are not AT ALL the same ones needed to find, attract, and keep a man who wants to be married.
the sense of entitlement really becomes apparent when you look at the SBW's reaction to married/engaged/boo'ed up women who they think are "less than." especially if these women are with men who the SBWs think ought to be with them. prime example: the backlash against reggie bush on the cover of essence this month (check the comments). black women go HOARD when they think someone less than is getting what's theirs. let a man with a law degree wife a woman without a comparable level of status. how dare he!
sadly ladies, he can and he will. cause what you as a SBW bring to the table might not be what your targeted pool of men is looking for. and an entitled attitude won't change that. love doesn't work the way that grad school admissions do. you might could be mad that homegirl from state university got in over you, harvard graduate. but in love, you ass out. he gotta want you too and maybe what you present isn't what he wants. what do you do then?
which brings me to the second problem SBWs have: a hard time changing.
now helena andrews and her friends presented themselves as accomplished, successful, having standards but carrying an edginess, a bitch side if you will. ms. andrews might be a self-described “mean girl.” that's cool. you can be alladat. but SBWs who take on that mantle must also realize what comes with that in terms of finding a husband.
if your m.o. is to be tough/bitchy/attitudy/overly sassy/a mean girl then you have to understand what that means for your dating prospects. you have to be cognizant of how men perceive you.
let me give an example ya'll can identify with.: a friend of a friend is in her mid-30's and wants to be married. she's fly, attractive and doing it real big in her field. she's won lots of awards for her work. but she's also very brisk, curses a whole lot, and generally abrasive. and she don't want to change. she say she is who she is and that men oughta take her as she is.
i can get wit that on some levels. you are who you are. people can take it or leave it. don't go changing for the world. the man who can love you for you will come along. right?
WRONG. this is the lie, the falsehood, the myth that SBWs have bought into. you can't have it all. do you wanna be married or do you wanna stay the way you are and do what you wanna do for the rest of your life? either choice is fine but you can't do both. being in a relationship and/or married requires compromise, change over time. being less of yourself at times so your partner can be more. i'm not saying you have to do a 180 change to get a man but you can't continue to be every single fiber of who you are without some reflection on how every single fiber of who you are has (or has not) worked for you in terms of finding a man. and if finding a man is your priority you might have to change a fiber or two.
take michelle obama, the SBWs poster child for seemingly being able to have it all. michelle couldn't be the high powered executive and the FLOTUS. just wasn't gonna happen. she couldn't even be the local politician's wife and the big law firm partner at the same time for that matter. when barack decided he wanted to run she had to decide what she was gon do. the new supporting role she was gonna have to play for the family. she couldn't be running shit her way. she couldn't be resistant to change. right now she's sitting down while he stands up. that's part of the compromise of saying to yourself, i wanna be part of a we instead of just unchanged me.
or take ms. nicole from the video: prosecuting attorney, running for state court judge, atlanta falcons cheerleader, drives a benz, lightskinneded, long hair, unmarried, no boo in sight. she is doing the MOST. when she gonna have time for a man? cause men want to feel wanted and important. to know you have time for them in your life. that you aren't running all over the place (or so i'd imagine). nicole might wanna talk to some of her married friends and change some things. or not. just keep doing what you been doing.
or other black woman who said she met a white man, they vibed over drinks and conversation. she thought to herself, "oh he's gonna ask for my number." but he didn't. another woman suggested she shoulda asked for his. "no! i don't do that." and you remain alone. why don't you "do that"? has not "doing that" been working for you thus far? you might wanna consider changing things up. if you're not comfortable asking for a number, suggest another outing. slip him your business card with your number. CHANGE what you normally do. or not. and be who you are. but don't expect different results. you can't do both.
what say ya'll?
Monday, September 21, 2009
The Conversation
The Conversation by Hill Harper is EXECELLENT!
Like my lady friends would say, “Let’s get all the disclaimers out first”. Despite the fact that I think Hill Harper is attractive and intelligent and embodies some of the characters that I would love to have in a life partner, his latest book is amazing. I was going to read it during a lunch break, just like I treat all the books written on the topic of relationships, love, sex, video whores etc. I wouldn’t be caught dead claiming these types of books were in my collection. But by page 15 of this book it was evident I had to buy it. I got to page 100 and was like “are you kidding me? No way you going to buy this and return it”. And on that note, I walked half a block in the rain withdrew $20 form my bank using my Drivers License. (It is a recession so I am cutting back on spending by only walking around with cash and tokens and today of all days I was low on funds.)
Two days later I completed the book. If I didn’t have a 9-to-5 I would have finished it that day. This book is truly refreshing. To be honest I don’t want to tell you too much about the book because I encourage every African American to read it. (chuckle) I think that men and women will find it refreshing and something to think about. It truly encourages the action of the title, Conversation. The book doesn’t just talk about relationships and all that he this, she that, how to get a man type of over-rated hype it up blah. This book seeks to discuss our relationships with each other. It discusses historically our ideas about family from slavery to present, our fears and misconceptions, our upbringing, childrearing and the challenges we face today. The book is not preachy, assuming or only Hill’s understanding of the various discussions. This book is filled with stories from friends, quotes from our favorite celebrity couples, comments from ordinary people, facts from others who have written on about this, scientific data and most importantly, Hill’s personal experiences.
This book is honest. Take it from me… I am not sure if I was Hill I would have written some of his personal stories or thoughts. (chuckle) It is not only honest but it asks you to be honest. There is so much in this book that I think will inspire conversation and thoughts amongst us as a people that I almost wanted to hold a party for each chapter and buy Hill a short-set. (chuckle) Okay let me stop… seriously but here is how he got me to thinking.
Some of the things mentioned in this book, we know and the cool thing about it is that Hill knows it too so he doesn’t harper on it (No pun intended… chuckle) and neither will I. He writes this book for the intelligent reader.
I read this book, as a young lady recently divorced who is not quite sure what went wrong with the relationship. And what I find so intriguing is that in the book, occasionally Hill let’s you into his inner thoughts about why he behaves the way he does and how he knows it is not the best but does it anyway because it is the way he has already deemed it so. This makes me chuckle because don’t we all. I do it all the time. Throughout the book he mentions his relationship with this lady and he talks about how when he met her, there was this great connection. He got her number but once he left her and was on his own he started to calculate all these things in his mind about even calling or seeing her again. Whether it was worth it, is she just trying to get with him, if she was looking for someone to father her child etc. And oh boy, don’t we do it. I know I do it. I am back on the dating scene and you better believe sometimes, I think people are out to get me. Scoop me up, make me their baby-mamma, pop-out some pretty babies or just make me their side chick. None of which I am interested. Sometimes it is enough to say F-this!
A friend of mine once said, finding someone to sleep with is so much easier than doing the work to make a great connection.” And you know what? He didn’t lie. That is so true. At times you want to just say forget about it I have other things to focus on and we put more energy into those aspects of our lives, neglecting the importance of companionship and true love in your live. Shucksssss, I am doing it now! But a quote I read in this book on page 15, “Well, the truth about life is that we’re all alone, but when somebody love you, right, that experience is shared. Love is the only real connective tissue that allows you to not live and die by yourself. It gives you purpose beyond you.” Will Smith. Say what? Almost had me in tears. Romantic relationships aside, this is so true for any loving relationship, mother-daughter, sister-brother, friend to friend.
Amongst the many topics that he discusses, the running theme seems to be honesty, vulnerability and openness from both male and female. In the book, he mentions a brother Jared who says (page 115) “…we love them enough to not want to hurt them by breaking up with them but not enough to devote all of our attention to them…. It’s very hard to break up with a woman that you don’t hate!” Really Jared? You don’t say. And I will tell you from a chick who can maintain relationships with all her exs, but refuses to, it's hard to except these type of situations also. It takes a lot of strength on both sides of this situation to be honest and upfront. And Hill reminds us that it is getting even easier with technology nowadays to not ‘man-up’ to any difficult situations. Send a quick text or email… no tone delivered on my end and nor do I have to deal with your reaction immediately. For people not looking to do the work, such an easy way out. Again, I know I did last week. :/
Hill runs from nothing in this book, sex, complicated matters such as divorce, dating others with children, crossing the color lines, money, etc. His experience in chapter 14 is a must read!
“Anger is a manifestation of a deeper issue… and that, for me is based on insecurity, self-esteem and loneliness” Naomi Campbell. Was this before she attacked her assistant? (chuckle) But yes I agree… a therapist told someone I know very well it was usually a defense mechanism for fear. I will never forget that. Here is Hill’s take on fear…
“FEAR = False Evidence Appearing Real”
(Note from Harper’s desk for Part 4… great idea for title pages.)
Hmm… this book left me with a lot of thoughts. For the first time in almost 2 years, I believe I can seriously consider commitment. I am making a harder effort to learn from mistakes and leave the anger behind. I made the ultimate sacrifice of all of 'me' in efforts to make my marriage work and realized I lost me in the battle to save it. Silly me, ‘myself’ is what made it work. This was so much larger than me. We never had a chance at that rate. After The Conversation I am know, now more than ever I am going to be okay as long as I stay true honest to myself. Not every guy I enjoy dating is going to be the there forever or necessarily marry. I will continue to support my mate as I do my friends and assist them reaching their full potential on their own. And most importantly be vulnerable and honest about my needs. Yup... that's tall order to fill but it is worth the wait.
If you don’t read any other pages in this book, just read the last chapter and think about how powerful a party like that would be with your friends.
Much luv until next week… peace :)
P.S. Keys is back… sounds a little like "No one" but I happy nonetheless :)
Like my lady friends would say, “Let’s get all the disclaimers out first”. Despite the fact that I think Hill Harper is attractive and intelligent and embodies some of the characters that I would love to have in a life partner, his latest book is amazing. I was going to read it during a lunch break, just like I treat all the books written on the topic of relationships, love, sex, video whores etc. I wouldn’t be caught dead claiming these types of books were in my collection. But by page 15 of this book it was evident I had to buy it. I got to page 100 and was like “are you kidding me? No way you going to buy this and return it”. And on that note, I walked half a block in the rain withdrew $20 form my bank using my Drivers License. (It is a recession so I am cutting back on spending by only walking around with cash and tokens and today of all days I was low on funds.)
Two days later I completed the book. If I didn’t have a 9-to-5 I would have finished it that day. This book is truly refreshing. To be honest I don’t want to tell you too much about the book because I encourage every African American to read it. (chuckle) I think that men and women will find it refreshing and something to think about. It truly encourages the action of the title, Conversation. The book doesn’t just talk about relationships and all that he this, she that, how to get a man type of over-rated hype it up blah. This book seeks to discuss our relationships with each other. It discusses historically our ideas about family from slavery to present, our fears and misconceptions, our upbringing, childrearing and the challenges we face today. The book is not preachy, assuming or only Hill’s understanding of the various discussions. This book is filled with stories from friends, quotes from our favorite celebrity couples, comments from ordinary people, facts from others who have written on about this, scientific data and most importantly, Hill’s personal experiences.
This book is honest. Take it from me… I am not sure if I was Hill I would have written some of his personal stories or thoughts. (chuckle) It is not only honest but it asks you to be honest. There is so much in this book that I think will inspire conversation and thoughts amongst us as a people that I almost wanted to hold a party for each chapter and buy Hill a short-set. (chuckle) Okay let me stop… seriously but here is how he got me to thinking.
Some of the things mentioned in this book, we know and the cool thing about it is that Hill knows it too so he doesn’t harper on it (No pun intended… chuckle) and neither will I. He writes this book for the intelligent reader.
I read this book, as a young lady recently divorced who is not quite sure what went wrong with the relationship. And what I find so intriguing is that in the book, occasionally Hill let’s you into his inner thoughts about why he behaves the way he does and how he knows it is not the best but does it anyway because it is the way he has already deemed it so. This makes me chuckle because don’t we all. I do it all the time. Throughout the book he mentions his relationship with this lady and he talks about how when he met her, there was this great connection. He got her number but once he left her and was on his own he started to calculate all these things in his mind about even calling or seeing her again. Whether it was worth it, is she just trying to get with him, if she was looking for someone to father her child etc. And oh boy, don’t we do it. I know I do it. I am back on the dating scene and you better believe sometimes, I think people are out to get me. Scoop me up, make me their baby-mamma, pop-out some pretty babies or just make me their side chick. None of which I am interested. Sometimes it is enough to say F-this!
A friend of mine once said, finding someone to sleep with is so much easier than doing the work to make a great connection.” And you know what? He didn’t lie. That is so true. At times you want to just say forget about it I have other things to focus on and we put more energy into those aspects of our lives, neglecting the importance of companionship and true love in your live. Shucksssss, I am doing it now! But a quote I read in this book on page 15, “Well, the truth about life is that we’re all alone, but when somebody love you, right, that experience is shared. Love is the only real connective tissue that allows you to not live and die by yourself. It gives you purpose beyond you.” Will Smith. Say what? Almost had me in tears. Romantic relationships aside, this is so true for any loving relationship, mother-daughter, sister-brother, friend to friend.
Amongst the many topics that he discusses, the running theme seems to be honesty, vulnerability and openness from both male and female. In the book, he mentions a brother Jared who says (page 115) “…we love them enough to not want to hurt them by breaking up with them but not enough to devote all of our attention to them…. It’s very hard to break up with a woman that you don’t hate!” Really Jared? You don’t say. And I will tell you from a chick who can maintain relationships with all her exs, but refuses to, it's hard to except these type of situations also. It takes a lot of strength on both sides of this situation to be honest and upfront. And Hill reminds us that it is getting even easier with technology nowadays to not ‘man-up’ to any difficult situations. Send a quick text or email… no tone delivered on my end and nor do I have to deal with your reaction immediately. For people not looking to do the work, such an easy way out. Again, I know I did last week. :/
Hill runs from nothing in this book, sex, complicated matters such as divorce, dating others with children, crossing the color lines, money, etc. His experience in chapter 14 is a must read!
“Anger is a manifestation of a deeper issue… and that, for me is based on insecurity, self-esteem and loneliness” Naomi Campbell. Was this before she attacked her assistant? (chuckle) But yes I agree… a therapist told someone I know very well it was usually a defense mechanism for fear. I will never forget that. Here is Hill’s take on fear…
“FEAR = False Evidence Appearing Real”
(Note from Harper’s desk for Part 4… great idea for title pages.)
Hmm… this book left me with a lot of thoughts. For the first time in almost 2 years, I believe I can seriously consider commitment. I am making a harder effort to learn from mistakes and leave the anger behind. I made the ultimate sacrifice of all of 'me' in efforts to make my marriage work and realized I lost me in the battle to save it. Silly me, ‘myself’ is what made it work. This was so much larger than me. We never had a chance at that rate. After The Conversation I am know, now more than ever I am going to be okay as long as I stay true honest to myself. Not every guy I enjoy dating is going to be the there forever or necessarily marry. I will continue to support my mate as I do my friends and assist them reaching their full potential on their own. And most importantly be vulnerable and honest about my needs. Yup... that's tall order to fill but it is worth the wait.
If you don’t read any other pages in this book, just read the last chapter and think about how powerful a party like that would be with your friends.
Much luv until next week… peace :)
P.S. Keys is back… sounds a little like "No one" but I happy nonetheless :)
Monday, July 6, 2009
0 for 1 This Round
Meet a man,
Young and handsome,
Kind hearted and understands the importance of giving back.
Attends church and appreciates the arts.
Writing is his hobby...
Got a job and has his own business.
I know a lady,
Young and beautiful,
Kind hearted (at times... chuckle)
and understands the importance off giving back.
Loves the lord and creates the arts.
Pottery is her passion...
Got a job and owns her business.
Let's get this match started.
Lady smiles,
Gentleman greets,
Lady flirts,
Gentleman attempts to impress.
As honest as she is,
She saves the lies for the players,
She responds unamused.
No faking,
Or false impressions.
Ego CRUSHED.
Lifted him up and chopped him down,
With a single strike!
He was right,
She is NO joke.
Seriously?
The intimidation you feel in your gut,
Is REAL.
0 for 1 buddy.
Next round try again... she still likes you.
(chuckle, chuckle, chuckle)
Much luv until next week... peace :)
Young and handsome,
Kind hearted and understands the importance of giving back.
Attends church and appreciates the arts.
Writing is his hobby...
Got a job and has his own business.
O-Kay!!!! Here comes the one-two, single with no kids.
Say what?
I know a lady,
Young and beautiful,
Kind hearted (at times... chuckle)
and understands the importance off giving back.
Loves the lord and creates the arts.
Pottery is her passion...
Got a job and owns her business.
HELLO!!! Here comes the one-two, single with no kids.
Say what?
Let's get this match started.
Lady smiles,
Gentleman greets,
Lady flirts,
Gentleman attempts to impress.
As honest as she is,
She saves the lies for the players,
She responds unamused.
No faking,
Or false impressions.
Ego CRUSHED.
Lifted him up and chopped him down,
With a single strike!
He was right,
She is NO joke.
Seriously?
The intimidation you feel in your gut,
Is REAL.
0 for 1 buddy.
Next round try again... she still likes you.
(chuckle, chuckle, chuckle)
Much luv until next week... peace :)
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
The Best Year Ever?
Sunday night I joked that 2009 must be the year of the Black Man. It seems like they are having the best year ever; at least through the lens of mainstream America’s media. With Mr. Obama in the White House, Eric Holder being confirmed as Attorney General, Ray-Ray making his child support payments, and Mike Tomlin (who will be played by Omar Epps in the movie) being one of the youngest head coaches to win the Super Bowl…it looks like for the first time in a loooooong time Black men have the chance to be on top!
But I wonder will this just be a fad? Will I start seeing non Black folks wearing Black is Beautiful T-Shirts? Saying it loud?! Replacing their hand shakes with uplifted or bumping fists?
Despite the changes that I have witnessed since President Obama told us he was about to do the darn thing I really still wonder about the American psyche. At work yesterday an older white co-worker joked that he was eclectic and was going to prove it by downloading some Fidy Cents (yes, he said Fidy and yes he made cent plural) on his iPod. And maybe I’m just being overly sensitive, because as a Black woman we tend to do that when it comes to us and our menz. But couldn’t he have been just as eclectic downloading some Marilyn Manson? Did he want me to think he was hip because he knew who 50 Cent was? Make his count of Black men he knows skyrocket to 4? Should I have told him that if he wanted to really shock and amaze that he should have downloaded some Lil Wayne?
Race in America is such a complicated thing, and it gets more convoluted in the day to day lives of Black folks. It upset me that people assumed that I was an Obama supporter just as much as the assumption that a Black man in a suit is such an abnormality. A Black who speaks well is a phenomena. A Black man working just shows how he is different from the rest of them. Yeah, the rest of them who ain’t no good, can barely speak and only know how to be criminal.
It just hurts.
It’s a pain that I live with-that many Black folks and other minorities live with, not knowing what it’s like to be without it. As the daughter of two Redskins fans (meaning I too am one) I was only cheering for the Steelers because their head coach was a Black man. I didn’t see him as a person. Couldn’t tell you about his career. Don’t even know the content of his character. But I rooted for him because I felt it was my duty as a member of the Black community to support the brother. Because we only get one chance in the eyes of white folks before they end the honeymoon, so Mr. President beware.
In 2009, with mainstream still trying to see us a people…it seems like we still have to prove that we are no different from the rest of them. I think it’s going to be one heck of a year…
See You In Seven
But I wonder will this just be a fad? Will I start seeing non Black folks wearing Black is Beautiful T-Shirts? Saying it loud?! Replacing their hand shakes with uplifted or bumping fists?
Despite the changes that I have witnessed since President Obama told us he was about to do the darn thing I really still wonder about the American psyche. At work yesterday an older white co-worker joked that he was eclectic and was going to prove it by downloading some Fidy Cents (yes, he said Fidy and yes he made cent plural) on his iPod. And maybe I’m just being overly sensitive, because as a Black woman we tend to do that when it comes to us and our menz. But couldn’t he have been just as eclectic downloading some Marilyn Manson? Did he want me to think he was hip because he knew who 50 Cent was? Make his count of Black men he knows skyrocket to 4? Should I have told him that if he wanted to really shock and amaze that he should have downloaded some Lil Wayne?
Race in America is such a complicated thing, and it gets more convoluted in the day to day lives of Black folks. It upset me that people assumed that I was an Obama supporter just as much as the assumption that a Black man in a suit is such an abnormality. A Black who speaks well is a phenomena. A Black man working just shows how he is different from the rest of them. Yeah, the rest of them who ain’t no good, can barely speak and only know how to be criminal.
It just hurts.
It’s a pain that I live with-that many Black folks and other minorities live with, not knowing what it’s like to be without it. As the daughter of two Redskins fans (meaning I too am one) I was only cheering for the Steelers because their head coach was a Black man. I didn’t see him as a person. Couldn’t tell you about his career. Don’t even know the content of his character. But I rooted for him because I felt it was my duty as a member of the Black community to support the brother. Because we only get one chance in the eyes of white folks before they end the honeymoon, so Mr. President beware.
In 2009, with mainstream still trying to see us a people…it seems like we still have to prove that we are no different from the rest of them. I think it’s going to be one heck of a year…
See You In Seven
Friday, January 16, 2009
Walk Like a Man?
So I attend the school of thought that Tyler Perry and John Legend (to name a few), despite their best efforts to prove otherwise, are gay. Of course I could be wrong. But for the sake of argument, let’s say that I could, possibly be right. Why do I think these things?
1. Way back when John Legend first came out (ha ha – no pun intended), a few of us girlfriends attended his concert in D.C. And let me tell y’all that place was full of gay men. I mean they came in droves! Droves! Now this was when Holla, Holla, Holla aka Used to Love Her had gotten some air play and Ordinary People was sounding cute and fuzzy and not what it eventually became – annoying. So people knew who he was, but they ain’t really know who he was. Anyway. Back to my point. The children had come out, for what I always thought, was to support one of their own. Cause you know they can tell their own. I mean they were rolling deep. Now I know it’s common to see gay Black men in groups in Metropolitan cities, particularly in Lenox Mall on a Saturday afternoon in ATL, but this was something unprecedented-the crowd ranged from the flaming, two snaps and a circle to the ones you would never have suspected. Until you saw him next to his "friend" who had on some skinny jeans and smedium t-shirt.
2. There is a scene in Why Did I Get Married when Tyler Perry switches his hips up the stairs. Get the movie. Check for it. You can't miss it. Pause it. And watch it in slow motion. And then laugh.
3. Tyler Perry is (again) on the cover of Essence Magazine and the caption says something about finding Mrs. Right. So, I say to my granny the other night, “how come we have to keep hearing about Tyler Perry looking for Mrs. Right? Anytime you have to put it out there so much, and emphasize the fact that your search for Mrs. Right is soo difficult because of your schedule, you make too much money, you want a real down home woman who reminds you of your mama but looks like a model, can fry fish with one hand behind her back, has got her own thing, doesn't want you for your money, yada, yada, yada, you are gay. Cause you know who else used to do that? Luther Vandross!” Oh my granny busted out laughing and said, “you true, you true.” Let me tell y’all I remember an Oprah Winfrey episode where Luther showed his house, his furniture, his fancy china that he used to eat grits. And at the end of the segment, he said, “Oprah now all I need is a woman to share this with!!” Snaps. And laughter from my 11-year-old belly. Even at my young age I knew there was something wrong with that statement.
And yet what if Tyler Perry and John Legend are not gay? What if they just don’t fit into the stereotypical ideals of [straight] manhood? I mean John Legend is an Ivy League grad, mayhap he is just well read and soft spoken. And Tyler Perry could just be a Southern boy, raised by Ma'dear and his aunties. And we all remember Kanye West's comment about him being called a sissy because he had taken on his mama's aka feminine ways 'cause that's all he knew...
2. There is a scene in Why Did I Get Married when Tyler Perry switches his hips up the stairs. Get the movie. Check for it. You can't miss it. Pause it. And watch it in slow motion. And then laugh.
3. Tyler Perry is (again) on the cover of Essence Magazine and the caption says something about finding Mrs. Right. So, I say to my granny the other night, “how come we have to keep hearing about Tyler Perry looking for Mrs. Right? Anytime you have to put it out there so much, and emphasize the fact that your search for Mrs. Right is soo difficult because of your schedule, you make too much money, you want a real down home woman who reminds you of your mama but looks like a model, can fry fish with one hand behind her back, has got her own thing, doesn't want you for your money, yada, yada, yada, you are gay. Cause you know who else used to do that? Luther Vandross!” Oh my granny busted out laughing and said, “you true, you true.” Let me tell y’all I remember an Oprah Winfrey episode where Luther showed his house, his furniture, his fancy china that he used to eat grits. And at the end of the segment, he said, “Oprah now all I need is a woman to share this with!!” Snaps. And laughter from my 11-year-old belly. Even at my young age I knew there was something wrong with that statement.
And yet what if Tyler Perry and John Legend are not gay? What if they just don’t fit into the stereotypical ideals of [straight] manhood? I mean John Legend is an Ivy League grad, mayhap he is just well read and soft spoken. And Tyler Perry could just be a Southern boy, raised by Ma'dear and his aunties. And we all remember Kanye West's comment about him being called a sissy because he had taken on his mama's aka feminine ways 'cause that's all he knew...
So what am I looking for a man who has his backhand up ready to prove he can smack a b***h? That's not what I was raised around. I should know better. In my own life, I have had men accuse men close to me of being gay because they seem “soft” or “gentle” or not hard core. I even know a woman who told me girls continually told her son in high school, “I don’t want to go out with you. You’re too nice. You won’t try anything with me.” Hmmm… I would be remissed if I didn't mention the man I saw on Bringing Home Baby the other day: jerry curlish (I'm thinking dyed) auburnish/blondish hair, had that lilt in his voice, and a flick in his wrist, but was bringing home his seventh child. Now in my eyes he was clearly gay. But in the eyes of the at least three women he had laid down with, he was what?
In these ever changing times where the lines of race, gender, sexual orientation are blurred and fuzzy, what is the measure of a [straight] man? How do we define manhood in an age when so many Black men weren't raised by their fathers and may not have the stereotypical male mannerisms? Are women passing up potentially good men, because their girlfriends are buzzing in their ears, saying "that man has some suga in his tea?" I mean if a John Legend or Tyler Perry type approached me, with all the right credentials, great personality, and nothing but love and adoration for Rum Punch would I dismiss him completely because of my own ideas of manhood vs. mannerisms, homosexuality vs. heterosexuality, stereotypes vs. reality? I wonder...
That’s my time y’all! Happy Rum Punch Friday!
P.S. If you’re going to be in the D.C. area for MLK Day on Jan. 19, head over to Peoples Congregational United Church of Christ at 4704 13th Street, NW for the best MLK Program ever! The program starts at 12 p.m. and will feature acts from around the world! A red carpet pre-inaugural party will follow! You don't wanna miss it!
Monday, January 12, 2009
If a smile is what you want…
At times I believe because I smile in response to whack pick-up lines, men believe these lines must be working. (chuckle) But in fact, I am chuckling out loud because I find it so funny that men actually say these things. (chuckle) Does someone you find attractive take you out of your element and make you act out of character? Because when that happens to me I try to keep my mouth shut until I can articulate my attraction with sense.
Case 1: You say…”What up ma’? Can I holla at you for a sec?”
My point: Do I look 16? I’m not interested in being holla’d at. I am interested in a gentlemen that smiles and says “Good morning!”
Case 2: “Can I have a bite?” you say as I nibble on my soft pretzel.
My point: (chuckle, chuckle) You most definitely get the smile. But oh no, you took the chuckle as approval to elaborate on that silly statement. (chuckle)
“I’m not talking about the pretzel?!” (chuckle) Oh really, what ARE you talking about? I think to myself. (chuckle even louder) You can not be serious?! That is not a nervous, flirtatious giggle…that is a negro you can’t be serious giggle.
But au contraire, these men are serious. I don’t have a problem with making your day with a smile but my cell number? (chuckle) Maybe if you cute (chuckle) but a guaranteed lay? (chuckle real loud) You would have a better chance if you just came out and asked for it.
Or maybe it is just me? Because when you come at me like this sober (chuckle)…you can’t expect me, to act like I AM sober…or do you?
Much luv until next week...peace :)
Case 1: You say…”What up ma’? Can I holla at you for a sec?”
My point: Do I look 16? I’m not interested in being holla’d at. I am interested in a gentlemen that smiles and says “Good morning!”
Case 2: “Can I have a bite?” you say as I nibble on my soft pretzel.
My point: (chuckle, chuckle) You most definitely get the smile. But oh no, you took the chuckle as approval to elaborate on that silly statement. (chuckle)
“I’m not talking about the pretzel?!” (chuckle) Oh really, what ARE you talking about? I think to myself. (chuckle even louder) You can not be serious?! That is not a nervous, flirtatious giggle…that is a negro you can’t be serious giggle.
But au contraire, these men are serious. I don’t have a problem with making your day with a smile but my cell number? (chuckle) Maybe if you cute (chuckle) but a guaranteed lay? (chuckle real loud) You would have a better chance if you just came out and asked for it.
Or maybe it is just me? Because when you come at me like this sober (chuckle)…you can’t expect me, to act like I AM sober…or do you?
Much luv until next week...peace :)
Thursday, December 11, 2008
to the women who be supporting the men and nem
dear (baby) mama,
excuse me miss. yes you miss sitting there in the third row of the audience. can I talk to you for a minute? you been psssting at me for the last 5 minutes trying to get my attention. waving me over for a while now so you can tell me about your son/baby daddy. about how you want to know when he's getting out. how much his bond gon be. whether his probation gon be revoked today. so now that I've got a minute there are a few things that I want to say to you.
I see you in here every day. you and your homegirls or your auntie and nem. ya'll come in like the prison paparazzi looking expectantly over at the men in the box. locked up. ya'll come with crumpled up papers in yo hand explaining to me bout how he was doing time upstate when he got that subpoena and that's why he didn't appear for his court date. ya'll show me pictures of the 3 year old he got at home as you rub your belly with another one on the way, telling me that you need him out now. you want me to ask the judge to lift the protective order so he can come back home to stay by you cause what he did last week, he didn't mean it, ya'll was just playin.
but ma'am, I'm getting real tired of running back and forth between you and him. truth is, he's my client, not you. but more than that, ma'am did you ever stop to think what your running to and fro, picking up this and that is doing to your son/baby daddy?
you were here just last week when the judge questioned lil Johnny's girl gang in front of the whole court. as the two older Black women approached the bench to plead their nephew's case, the judge asked where were ya'll when lil Johnny was getting into trouble? where were ya'll when he was running the street and smoking weed all day and night? every week, I get mothers and girlfriends and aunties in here crying to me to please let little Johnny go. if ya'll let lil Johnny be a man and made him take responsibility for his own life, ya'll wouldn't be here begging me to show him some mercy now. I know the real reason ya'll want lil Johnny out, It's cause lil Johnny runnin up your phone bill with them collect calls from the jail now, huh?
now miss, I saw you chuckle when the judge said that but maybe you need to take his words to heart. next time your man/child comes to court for a status hearing, how bout you not trail behind him and let him handle his business on his own? and if you do decide to tag along, when the judge finds out that your man/child's drug test is dirty, why don't you let the judge figure out what to do with your man/child on his own, instead of approaching the bench and telling the judge all the shit he's done and in the next breath asking the judge to let him go.
or when I call man/child on the phone to find out if he's done what he needed to do to help investigate his case or get into an alternative sentencing program, how bout you not pick up the phone in the other room and yell that he did what he was supposed to do. those people didn't call him back.
and when he does get out, let him find his own job, instead of scouring the want ads for him and putting in job applications at the places that you think he might like to work. instead of letting him come spend the night every night at the place where you the only one paying rent, make him go home to his mama house. or better yet, you and mama join forces and make him get his own spot.
I know it's not my place, but miss, I see way too many young Black men each and every day sitting back there in orange and way too many Black women like you looking longingly over at those men. and it clicked for me. I've been thinking of a way to say this so here goes...
damn (baby) mama! can your man/child be a man and do shit for himself?
please and thank you!
Monday, October 6, 2008
April, "This is jump-off..."
Sometimes I am not sure where the hours in the day disappear to but before I know it, I’m doing the whole get-it-together-it’s-Monday routine. Anyway before I kick this week off, I wanted to let you know that by Tuesday I had had enough of my non-functioning cell phone. It was no longer refreshing. It was making it rather difficult to keep up with my social calendar.
Okay, so last week I was drowning a few of my work sorrows away with a friend during happy hour when I ran into my cousin’s boyfriend. Of course, I spoke and attempted to introduce him to my friend but as I opened my mouth to say his name I realized, I was about to introduce him by some other name that his mother didn’t give him. Ut-oh! Not only was I about to do that but I couldn’t remember this man's name for the life of me. WOW! This man has been dating my cousin for almost a year and I don’t know his name. I had to think on that for minute.
Then it all made sense (and ladies don’t kill me I just thought this discussion would be rather entertaining) for the last eight months, we called and referred to this dude as jump-off. Now of course he doesn’t know this but dang we must have used it a lot for me to almost introduce the man as jump-off!
At this point, I am thinking when the girls get together do we ever use real names? I know guys have their little code names but we rarely hear those unless they tell us. But my girls and I have used these codes names sometimes in the presence of the man in which we are referring. Tsk-tsk. (chuckle) Sometimes the names switch…you can go from being a "jump-off" to a "mister" without even knowing. Your woman might have even had a slip of the tongue and you never even realized it. (chuckle)
Well this morning, I am going to shout out a few of them. They all hold special places in our hearts. (chuckle)
To:
Jump-Off: One minute you chilling and the next there is more than just the lights off.
Coach: You keep a sister on her toes giving her the little extra encouragement that she needs and not necessarily what she wants.
Father: Not to be confused with the pimp and I think this one is self explanatory.
WH: Ahh, everyone has one of these…work husband. (Well not everyone.)
West Coast: The long distance brother. Time stops and the relationship pauses when you are not in town, but picks right back up from where it left off when you are.
Mister: Ooo, “if you think hard work been doggin’ you before get ready for the big dog!”
Old head: I think is one is pretty common but chivalry is not dead here!
Wing MAN: Not the initial score but proves that first impressions might be deceiving.
Hooptie: a.k.a The overambitious, loves to make promises but just can’t seem to follow through...but we love him still, his intentions are good.
The Avatar: Whether he knows it or not, he IS the chosen one and has mystical healing powers.
Mr. Sandy Nipples: Last but not least, my favorite. Always knows how to show a sista a good time. Doesn’t matter who is there…Mr. Sandy Nipples puts a smile on you and your girlfriends’ faces.
We love you all & have a wonderful day! :)
Take a minute to shout out your favorites by code name. (chuckle)
Until next week…peace :)
Thursday, August 21, 2008
cater to you
A friend and I have this running conversation about B&B's, that is bold and brazen (black) women. Ladies who claim him! After observing the aggressive tactics of another woman my friend wondered aloud whether she needed to start being so B&B: picking out a man, claiming him as the one, being ready willing and able to do things for him, generally catering to him cause every day is his day. I countered her query, suggesting that this particular woman's actions (buying opera tickets, saying he's the one for her) to my thinking were more like catering-lite and actively showing and stating interest, a step down from bold and brazen, albeit a tiny step. To me being B&B is self-explanatory: the woman boldy intiates the contact, doing things like asking for his number, calling first and brazenly goes after a man while he goes along passively for the ride until such time as he opens the door and jumps out while the car is still rollin. But with most things in life, there is a fine line between B&B activities and those that are not.
Case in point. During my training last week, one of my male colleagues got sick. While drinking at a local spot, he reached over and partook of some oysters from somebody else's plate. Unfortunately these oysters did not agree with his stomach and the next morning he was down for the count. He'd be throwing up, take a nap, try to eat, and throw up some more. So commenced a vicious cycle for the next 4-5 days.
Case in point. During my training last week, one of my male colleagues got sick. While drinking at a local spot, he reached over and partook of some oysters from somebody else's plate. Unfortunately these oysters did not agree with his stomach and the next morning he was down for the count. He'd be throwing up, take a nap, try to eat, and throw up some more. So commenced a vicious cycle for the next 4-5 days.
Some time around day 3, his girlfriend of one month, upon hearing about his distressed state, came to the rescue. Without any prompting, she jumped in her ride and drove over to where the training was being held. Keep in mind that we were training 6 hours away from home and co-worker didn't know she was coming until she called him from the road. Homegirl swept in with groceries and proceeded to cook and clean and nurse her man back to health.
My friend chalked it up to the magnificence that is him. But I wondered.... Had I just witnessed a B&B sighting, wifey auditions if you will, before my very eyes or was this woman simply being considerate? On the one hand, they'd only been dating a month and 6 hours is a hell of a long way to drive to spoon feed some grown ass man crackers and gatorade. On the flip side, you only have one chance to make a first impression, to show yourself to be the concerned homemaker who will drive any distance and clean any surface in order to please her man. This is a quasi-extinct black male with an advanced degree, no kids, and a good head on his shoulders we’re talking about.
Me no know. It could go either way, right? But if you held a gun to my head and made me make a choice about whether this was B&B behavior or not, I'd say it wasn't although the length of the relationship would cause a raised eyebrow. My only concern is whether she did all this out of the goodness of her heart or because she thought it would get her brownie points. Does it really matter her motivation especially if he isn't aware of why she's there, only that she IS there, showing him that she's willing to be down for him. He said he thought it was nice of her and maybe somewhere in the back of his mind she gets a check in the "could be a good wife" column. So who cares what other people (read: women) think about her actions. Maybe some times B&B behavior is called for if you want to survive. I say just don't make it a habit.
What say you?
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
A Woman's Work
Last Friday Rum Punch used her grandmother’s explanation on why men, particularly black men, seem to be crawling away from their responsibilities as a board to dive into a complex issue that many ponder. And like most things, the definition of how a man walks, is relative in interpretation. For me, my definition of a man tells of a life with consistency and self sacrifice. But, as I look around for men who are willing to do what they don’t feel like doing for their children, spouses and community, men like grandfathers, it seems to me that a lot of males have yet to master manhood. But as Lord Hannibal and Introspective Goddess have commented, what about the women? Aren’t they getting sorrier too?
Hmmmm.
At the core, it just seems like people in general are functioning more with an “F what you heard, Imma do me” mentality. And with that respect and consideration for others weakens under growing egos. I am always taken aback when I meet people who truly feel the world owes them something just because they are here. These folks think that they should start immediately at the top, and that they deserve to bypass the process of making it. Say what? As a people who sought to crawl out of the fields of oppression the value of sacrifice, working as a collective and hoping for something better for the next generation was learned. Yet somewhere this story of us got muted, watered down and sold as a fairy tale. Stories about money, cars and clothes are sung louder than what granddaddy or momma did to keep the family together and strong. And so I wonder how we are to know what we are supposed to do in our families, our communities and in relationships when our cues are coming externally.
On the outside I feel like everyone is getting sorrier. We stopped listening to those who’ve already been there and done that because surely they didn’t know what they were talking about. And because now we are all grown and sexy we don’t have to give respect to get it. I have long believed that it is the woman’s job to set the tone of a relationship. Yet it is amazing to hear about women shocked and saddened that ole boy only sees her as a booty call…when yeah, on your first date your gave it up not knowing his last name. Or that ole boy only sees her as a punching bag…when yeah, you decided not to leave after the first time he beat you. Or that ole boy only sees you as a gold digger…when yeah, all you do is ask about his money, his car and clothes. Or that ole boy only sees you as his baby’s mama and not a wife…when yeah, that’s what you allowed him to think of you. So how mad can women be when men fail to meet the expectations that were never taught or that we never communicated?
As mothers, fighters, glue that's holding it together, daughters, life givers, sisters, teachers and friends we have to know our value. And we have to remind our males that we expect them to be men because we know what they can be. We all need to hear of and learn our worth. And that women, is going to be a mighty work that we must be willing to undertake.
See You In Seven
Hmmmm.
At the core, it just seems like people in general are functioning more with an “F what you heard, Imma do me” mentality. And with that respect and consideration for others weakens under growing egos. I am always taken aback when I meet people who truly feel the world owes them something just because they are here. These folks think that they should start immediately at the top, and that they deserve to bypass the process of making it. Say what? As a people who sought to crawl out of the fields of oppression the value of sacrifice, working as a collective and hoping for something better for the next generation was learned. Yet somewhere this story of us got muted, watered down and sold as a fairy tale. Stories about money, cars and clothes are sung louder than what granddaddy or momma did to keep the family together and strong. And so I wonder how we are to know what we are supposed to do in our families, our communities and in relationships when our cues are coming externally.
On the outside I feel like everyone is getting sorrier. We stopped listening to those who’ve already been there and done that because surely they didn’t know what they were talking about. And because now we are all grown and sexy we don’t have to give respect to get it. I have long believed that it is the woman’s job to set the tone of a relationship. Yet it is amazing to hear about women shocked and saddened that ole boy only sees her as a booty call…when yeah, on your first date your gave it up not knowing his last name. Or that ole boy only sees her as a punching bag…when yeah, you decided not to leave after the first time he beat you. Or that ole boy only sees you as a gold digger…when yeah, all you do is ask about his money, his car and clothes. Or that ole boy only sees you as his baby’s mama and not a wife…when yeah, that’s what you allowed him to think of you. So how mad can women be when men fail to meet the expectations that were never taught or that we never communicated?
As mothers, fighters, glue that's holding it together, daughters, life givers, sisters, teachers and friends we have to know our value. And we have to remind our males that we expect them to be men because we know what they can be. We all need to hear of and learn our worth. And that women, is going to be a mighty work that we must be willing to undertake.
See You In Seven
Friday, June 27, 2008
Walk Like A Man
The other day whilst my granny was making a tall pitcher of lemonade and the bad news of the day was blaring in the background, I said to her, “Remember when men took care of their families.”
“Uh huh,” she said.
“What happened,” I asked.
“These men getting sorrier and sorrier,” she said matter of factly.
Hmmm…A simple answer to a complex question that is debated in the academic world, the blogsphere, and black folks’ living rooms across the land. It’s the question in the front of our minds and on the tip of our tongues: what happened to us? What happened to our Black men?
The truth is people like revisionist history. Christopher Columbus discovered America. Slavery really wasn’t that bad. The trail of tears was just a little walk. The Japanese internment camp was like a summer retreat. And apparently before crack, the Vietnam War and the corrupt welfare system Black men were the shit. And now they ain’t shit. Or that is what so many people think, say, breathe and live on a daily basis.
When we get past the finger pointing, or the blaming the white man, or the educated explanation of the emasculation of black men, or the ills of integration, I think it’s safe to admit that something happened in our community. A breakdown happened. A change in values happened. A culture change happened. We can discuss the reasons ad nauseum, but what I find interesting is that when people think back on the Black community, the days before integration (and even shortly after) there seems to have been a lot of good there. People reminisce about men coming home to their families, men being a constant presence in the community, men teaching their sons how to be men.
This is not to say that there was no bad. This is not to say that men didn’t abandon their families, or beat their wives, or have affairs, or impregnate women before vows and wedding bands were exchanged, or gamble the rent money, but this is to say that it seems that some core values have eroded. It's like we lost some pieces along the way to a better life. I know I’m not the only one who loves an older black man, a church going, amen saying, Deacon Johnson who wears a fresh suit and a brim hat tilted to the side, who nods his head and smiles at you and says, “how you doin’ sweetie,” as he holds the door open or helps you with your package. I wonder what will happen when that generation is gone. I feel like they will take so much with them when they leave: a true work ethic, integrity, and manners, to name a few.
Story time (Y'all know I always have a story): Back in the day a female family member got pregnant by a man she was “dating,” a soldier passing through town. So y’all know I’m using the term dating real loosely. Well a shotgun wedding proceeded. And they decided to have that one child and raise her and love her together. Well one grown child with a PhD, a husband, and two kids later, they are still married. Now some might view this as noble, some archaic, but contrast it with a young man I met last night who was with his girlfriend for two years before she got pregnant, the baby is now a year old, and they just live together. And he’s talking about he doesn’t want to get married until he’s ready to support a family. Excuse me? I think that’s the definition of putting the cart before the horse. When looking at these two situations, what I see is a man who was willing to sacrifice his plans for his life because he was a part of bringing another life into this world vs. a man who wants to cling to the life of a bachelor. What I see is acknowledging the reality of a situation then stepping up and taking personal responsibility vs. a it ain't my fault things happen in life kind of attitude.
As I settle into adulthood I have learned that I have a very different definition of manhood from a lot of people. I value character and substance over flash and cash. I have had some great men in my life who have shown me how a man is supposed to behave. But what about those who haven’t been as fortunate? What does manhood mean to them? How does manhood look to them? Who is teaching them how to be men? I remember watching a documentary some time ago on young black men in gangs. And the young man who couldn’t have been more than 18 years old said, “Our generation died when our fathers were born.” Damn. He was talking about a generation without fathers. A generation without men in the community. A generation that was already gone. I remember when I was in Philly watching a news piece about a shooting in the neighborhood. And people were standing in a prayer circle and the woman said, “We pray for the mothers, daughters, grandmothers, aunts, cousins…” I stopped cold because there was no mention of fathers, grandfathers, or uncles. What had been commonplace in my life was abstract in theirs. And this saddens me. Because my reality blends with their reality and forms, well, reality. And I can't ignore that. I can't put my experience above or over theirs.
I don’t write this thinking that all black men ain’t shit. Believe me I know better. I know there are great men out here. And I don’t write this thinking that there is no hope and that things are bleak. And I don't write this saying that if you ain't marry the mother of your child, you ain't a man. I know you take care of your kids. But I do wonder how it will be 50 years from now when God willing I’m reminiscing with my grandchildren about the community that I grew up in. As our key values continue to disappear, as we hear reports about 70% of Black children being born to single parent households, as I meet so many men with baby mamas and not wives who seem allergic to the mere thought and concept marriage, as these little hip hop youngins’ become the heroes of today and "old man" Andre 3000 has to school them in verse, what will I say about the men? What significance will they have played in my life? When I look back and share my stories, I want them to be honest, and I know there will be some ugly and some bad, but I hope there's a whole lot more good. So I pray that all the granddaddies, daddies, uncles and Deacon Johnsons out there are passing the torch to somebody, teaching what they know and ensuring that we'll have some warriors. Some men.
“Uh huh,” she said.
“What happened,” I asked.
“These men getting sorrier and sorrier,” she said matter of factly.
Hmmm…A simple answer to a complex question that is debated in the academic world, the blogsphere, and black folks’ living rooms across the land. It’s the question in the front of our minds and on the tip of our tongues: what happened to us? What happened to our Black men?
The truth is people like revisionist history. Christopher Columbus discovered America. Slavery really wasn’t that bad. The trail of tears was just a little walk. The Japanese internment camp was like a summer retreat. And apparently before crack, the Vietnam War and the corrupt welfare system Black men were the shit. And now they ain’t shit. Or that is what so many people think, say, breathe and live on a daily basis.
When we get past the finger pointing, or the blaming the white man, or the educated explanation of the emasculation of black men, or the ills of integration, I think it’s safe to admit that something happened in our community. A breakdown happened. A change in values happened. A culture change happened. We can discuss the reasons ad nauseum, but what I find interesting is that when people think back on the Black community, the days before integration (and even shortly after) there seems to have been a lot of good there. People reminisce about men coming home to their families, men being a constant presence in the community, men teaching their sons how to be men.
This is not to say that there was no bad. This is not to say that men didn’t abandon their families, or beat their wives, or have affairs, or impregnate women before vows and wedding bands were exchanged, or gamble the rent money, but this is to say that it seems that some core values have eroded. It's like we lost some pieces along the way to a better life. I know I’m not the only one who loves an older black man, a church going, amen saying, Deacon Johnson who wears a fresh suit and a brim hat tilted to the side, who nods his head and smiles at you and says, “how you doin’ sweetie,” as he holds the door open or helps you with your package. I wonder what will happen when that generation is gone. I feel like they will take so much with them when they leave: a true work ethic, integrity, and manners, to name a few.
Story time (Y'all know I always have a story): Back in the day a female family member got pregnant by a man she was “dating,” a soldier passing through town. So y’all know I’m using the term dating real loosely. Well a shotgun wedding proceeded. And they decided to have that one child and raise her and love her together. Well one grown child with a PhD, a husband, and two kids later, they are still married. Now some might view this as noble, some archaic, but contrast it with a young man I met last night who was with his girlfriend for two years before she got pregnant, the baby is now a year old, and they just live together. And he’s talking about he doesn’t want to get married until he’s ready to support a family. Excuse me? I think that’s the definition of putting the cart before the horse. When looking at these two situations, what I see is a man who was willing to sacrifice his plans for his life because he was a part of bringing another life into this world vs. a man who wants to cling to the life of a bachelor. What I see is acknowledging the reality of a situation then stepping up and taking personal responsibility vs. a it ain't my fault things happen in life kind of attitude.
As I settle into adulthood I have learned that I have a very different definition of manhood from a lot of people. I value character and substance over flash and cash. I have had some great men in my life who have shown me how a man is supposed to behave. But what about those who haven’t been as fortunate? What does manhood mean to them? How does manhood look to them? Who is teaching them how to be men? I remember watching a documentary some time ago on young black men in gangs. And the young man who couldn’t have been more than 18 years old said, “Our generation died when our fathers were born.” Damn. He was talking about a generation without fathers. A generation without men in the community. A generation that was already gone. I remember when I was in Philly watching a news piece about a shooting in the neighborhood. And people were standing in a prayer circle and the woman said, “We pray for the mothers, daughters, grandmothers, aunts, cousins…” I stopped cold because there was no mention of fathers, grandfathers, or uncles. What had been commonplace in my life was abstract in theirs. And this saddens me. Because my reality blends with their reality and forms, well, reality. And I can't ignore that. I can't put my experience above or over theirs.
I don’t write this thinking that all black men ain’t shit. Believe me I know better. I know there are great men out here. And I don’t write this thinking that there is no hope and that things are bleak. And I don't write this saying that if you ain't marry the mother of your child, you ain't a man. I know you take care of your kids. But I do wonder how it will be 50 years from now when God willing I’m reminiscing with my grandchildren about the community that I grew up in. As our key values continue to disappear, as we hear reports about 70% of Black children being born to single parent households, as I meet so many men with baby mamas and not wives who seem allergic to the mere thought and concept marriage, as these little hip hop youngins’ become the heroes of today and "old man" Andre 3000 has to school them in verse, what will I say about the men? What significance will they have played in my life? When I look back and share my stories, I want them to be honest, and I know there will be some ugly and some bad, but I hope there's a whole lot more good. So I pray that all the granddaddies, daddies, uncles and Deacon Johnsons out there are passing the torch to somebody, teaching what they know and ensuring that we'll have some warriors. Some men.
That’s my time y’all! Happy Rum Punch Friday!
Thursday, February 14, 2008
when "good" just isn't enough
Happy Valentine’s Day…a day for love and all that jazz. Everybody deserves a little love right? Not just brotherly and sisterly love, love from your mama nem, love from your bestest friends but there persists this notion that everyone deserves to experience that one love, between soul mates if you will, a man and a woman presumably, the one that was made for you and you for him, who ain’t bout that bullshit and this love will lead to marriage and security and bliss. Or not.
I was talking to rum punch a few days ago about this notion. She was jumping off dark and stormy’s post about Black women complaining that there aren’t any good men and dirty red’s comment about some Black men also having a hard time finding good women. And this really stuck in rum’s craw (and mine too for that matter). It got me to thinking…
What is this amorphous “good” everybody’s screaming bout they can’t find?
Finished school, Got a job, Girl do your thang (c) little brother
No kids, 401K, can cook a mean spicy chicken wang (lol my attempt at the rhymes, forgive me)
But really, women are scrambling to make sure they have the wifely resume all set, educated and just independent enough, can cook clean and dip it real low and nasty in the bedroom and according to dark and stormy, with her lip balm and hair always hooked before she leaves the house. Isn’t having all these qualities “good” enough? wellll.... it seems not to be cause there are plenty “good” women by these standards running around.
Now I know there are some scalawags from both sexes among us talking bout they are quality material but put those people out of your mind for a minute and think on your friends and associates who are sane, funny, intelligent, good-looking, hard-working Americans just trying to find love. Think on those “good” men and women.
As Rum said, aren’t we good women, why don’t we have a man? I replied, are we really “good” women?
Hear me out, in the traditional sense we are banging, damn good. But for the male counterparts we have encountered thus far, are we the “good” that they are apparently so desperately searching for and vice versa? No matter how good we see ourselves, if it’s not the good ish that these men we encounter are looking for, aint nothing we can do but continue to look around cause the goods don’t match….
But to many women that’s unacceptable, just plain sucks. And I said as much to Rum. I told her, it’s like applying to law school. You can have perfect LSAT score, straight A’s on your college transcript, a well crafted personal statement with a diatribe on how you’ll save the world with your law degree. And you can apply to your dream school, Harvard. Yet you could still get that skinny envelope with the admission denied letter inside.
Why? You’ll ask yourself, aren’t I good enough, didn’t I have it all together, the perfect package? I deserve to be accepted.
Sadly, no you don’t. Law school admissions, and by my estimation, this whole man/woman dating/marriage thing don’t work like that. Maybe Harvard was looking for less than perfect, someone a little older, more committed to the cause, with more experience or compassion, or maybe someone got their application in a little bit earlier than you did and stole that last spot.
And what can you do? You can’t beg and pled with Harvard and no matter how well connected your parents are or how much money you have, if Harvard has picked someone else, that’s it.
Maybe Harvard isn’t for you, maybe Yale’s where you should be or Duke or some state law school. You won’t say there aren’t any good law school’s out there because Harvard rejected you (will you?). If you want to be a lawyer bad enough, you’ll keep applying and maybe you’ll find a match or maybe you'll decide that law school ain’t for you. You’ll do other, just as meaningful things with your life.
And this is how I’ve come to understand this idea of that good-good, soul mate-type love and marriage. Just cause you’re a good woman and you do all the right things and perfectly position yourself for love doesn’t mean it’s guaranteed, that it will fall in your lap when you look up and say I’m ready.
That kinda love is a privilege, not a right.
I was talking to rum punch a few days ago about this notion. She was jumping off dark and stormy’s post about Black women complaining that there aren’t any good men and dirty red’s comment about some Black men also having a hard time finding good women. And this really stuck in rum’s craw (and mine too for that matter). It got me to thinking…
What is this amorphous “good” everybody’s screaming bout they can’t find?
Finished school, Got a job, Girl do your thang (c) little brother
No kids, 401K, can cook a mean spicy chicken wang (lol my attempt at the rhymes, forgive me)
But really, women are scrambling to make sure they have the wifely resume all set, educated and just independent enough, can cook clean and dip it real low and nasty in the bedroom and according to dark and stormy, with her lip balm and hair always hooked before she leaves the house. Isn’t having all these qualities “good” enough? wellll.... it seems not to be cause there are plenty “good” women by these standards running around.
Now I know there are some scalawags from both sexes among us talking bout they are quality material but put those people out of your mind for a minute and think on your friends and associates who are sane, funny, intelligent, good-looking, hard-working Americans just trying to find love. Think on those “good” men and women.
As Rum said, aren’t we good women, why don’t we have a man? I replied, are we really “good” women?
Hear me out, in the traditional sense we are banging, damn good. But for the male counterparts we have encountered thus far, are we the “good” that they are apparently so desperately searching for and vice versa? No matter how good we see ourselves, if it’s not the good ish that these men we encounter are looking for, aint nothing we can do but continue to look around cause the goods don’t match….
But to many women that’s unacceptable, just plain sucks. And I said as much to Rum. I told her, it’s like applying to law school. You can have perfect LSAT score, straight A’s on your college transcript, a well crafted personal statement with a diatribe on how you’ll save the world with your law degree. And you can apply to your dream school, Harvard. Yet you could still get that skinny envelope with the admission denied letter inside.
Why? You’ll ask yourself, aren’t I good enough, didn’t I have it all together, the perfect package? I deserve to be accepted.
Sadly, no you don’t. Law school admissions, and by my estimation, this whole man/woman dating/marriage thing don’t work like that. Maybe Harvard was looking for less than perfect, someone a little older, more committed to the cause, with more experience or compassion, or maybe someone got their application in a little bit earlier than you did and stole that last spot.
And what can you do? You can’t beg and pled with Harvard and no matter how well connected your parents are or how much money you have, if Harvard has picked someone else, that’s it.
Maybe Harvard isn’t for you, maybe Yale’s where you should be or Duke or some state law school. You won’t say there aren’t any good law school’s out there because Harvard rejected you (will you?). If you want to be a lawyer bad enough, you’ll keep applying and maybe you’ll find a match or maybe you'll decide that law school ain’t for you. You’ll do other, just as meaningful things with your life.
And this is how I’ve come to understand this idea of that good-good, soul mate-type love and marriage. Just cause you’re a good woman and you do all the right things and perfectly position yourself for love doesn’t mean it’s guaranteed, that it will fall in your lap when you look up and say I’m ready.
That kinda love is a privilege, not a right.
Monday, February 11, 2008
Could You Be Loved?
From the very first time I rest my eyes on you girl,
My heart says follow through
But I no now that I’m way down on your line,
But the waitin’ feel is fine.
So don’t treat me like a puppet on a string,
‘Cause I know how to do my thing.
Don’t talk to me as if you think I’m dumb
I wanna know when you’re gonna come – soon.
I don’t wanna wait in vain for your love.
- Waiting in Vain, Bob Marley
Aaahhh.... Valentine’s Day is on the horizon. Hallmark commercials galore. An extra candy and decoration aisle is set up at the CVS and Walgreens. Films of every kind of love story are being aired on TV, day and night (The Notebook is a personal favorite). Your local nightclub is hosting a serenade-filled concert with Bobby Valentino, Ne-Yo, or somebody who sound like ‘em. Roses out the wahzoo at every flower shop nationwide. Y’all know the drill.
And single folks mad 'cause it's a big a** reminder they ain't got nobody.
Sorry, don't wanna offend anyone. Just tellin' it like I see it. I'm a single lady myself, so ain't no hateration or holleratin' on my behalf. But I have been a bit disturbed by all of the recent fuss I am hearing lately about the age old complaint about the lack of good men. Specifically- a lack of good Black men. I want my sistas to read my lips: THIS TUNE IS PLAYED OUT. THE RECORD IS WARPED. I'M TIRED OF HEARING IT! Ladies, it's time to write a new hook.
While cruising the blogosphere last week, a couple of conversations caught my eye. Lord Hannibal gave his dos centimos about the subject. He made a good point about like attracts like and good men being worth the wait. I know that as human beings we are shaped by our experiences and a bad break up or a stormy relationship ain't always easy to shake. But most of the women I hear complaining about difficulty finding good men never had one to begin with. Or they fear still being unmarried and childless in ten years but don't date. You can't make a basket 'til you throw the ball, ya dig?
Some of my sistas refuse to date a man with less education than them or a man that has children. If that's your preference, cool. But there are good men that fit into both categories. Some women won't even talk to a man who is under a certain height (I've been guilty of this many times) or doesn't dress with a certain flair or doesn't have his own crib (guilty again- roommates are cool though). I'm not saying there's anything wrong with being selective. Please be. But some of our criteria is ridiculous and we our only hurting ourselves with these grandiose measuring sticks. I was watching Oprah last week and one of her guests was talking about making a list of desired traits in your potential mate and burrying it or some crap like that... Personally I think these lists are for the birds. But if you're going to make a list, keep it real.
Let's also start looking in the mirror. Literally. Fix your hair. I'm talking brush/comb it and give it a lil shine. Nothing extravagant. If you're having a bad hair day, put on a hat. But let the hat match your outfit. You ain't got to put on lipstick but a lil' chapstick or nude colored gloss would be nice. A nice apperance is important if you want a man to notice you. I don't care if you are just going to the grocery store... Men shop at the grocery store too, ya know. I'm sorry but first impression is important. He don't need to see what you look like on your worst day the very first time you meet. Then he won't ask you out. And then you'll keep singing that same tired a** tune that is driving me crazy!
If you're in a relationship that is not making you happy, end it. No it's not that hard. I don't want to hear about how complicated it is. The only thing I find complicated is why someone would choose to be unhappy and unfulfilled. And then mad at all men to come 'cause you stuck yourself in the mud and got dirty.
I've been blessed to have good men in my life, so I can attest that they do exist. They are out there. And there are lots of them. Every good man I meet may not be for me, but how would I know unless I give them a chance? Ladies, please give the men a chance. Hold brothas accountable for unacceptable behavior, but only the brothas that dish it. Not the entire brotherhood...
Ummm... I had a point and I got lost jumping up & down on the soapbox. Please forgive me. I just want my sistas to be happy. But y'all are killing me with the 'woe is me' sappiness. I just can't take it anymore. Let's be proactive in our quest for the Mandingo warrior of our dreams. Fix your hair. Fix your face (smile 'cause the smirk ain't cute). Fix your attitude. Love one another (haters are so unattractive). And love we shall receive.
On that note, to hell with Valentine's Day.
Tumultuously Yours,
Dark & Stormy
My heart says follow through
But I no now that I’m way down on your line,
But the waitin’ feel is fine.
So don’t treat me like a puppet on a string,
‘Cause I know how to do my thing.
Don’t talk to me as if you think I’m dumb
I wanna know when you’re gonna come – soon.
I don’t wanna wait in vain for your love.
- Waiting in Vain, Bob Marley
Aaahhh.... Valentine’s Day is on the horizon. Hallmark commercials galore. An extra candy and decoration aisle is set up at the CVS and Walgreens. Films of every kind of love story are being aired on TV, day and night (The Notebook is a personal favorite). Your local nightclub is hosting a serenade-filled concert with Bobby Valentino, Ne-Yo, or somebody who sound like ‘em. Roses out the wahzoo at every flower shop nationwide. Y’all know the drill.
And single folks mad 'cause it's a big a** reminder they ain't got nobody.
Sorry, don't wanna offend anyone. Just tellin' it like I see it. I'm a single lady myself, so ain't no hateration or holleratin' on my behalf. But I have been a bit disturbed by all of the recent fuss I am hearing lately about the age old complaint about the lack of good men. Specifically- a lack of good Black men. I want my sistas to read my lips: THIS TUNE IS PLAYED OUT. THE RECORD IS WARPED. I'M TIRED OF HEARING IT! Ladies, it's time to write a new hook.
While cruising the blogosphere last week, a couple of conversations caught my eye. Lord Hannibal gave his dos centimos about the subject. He made a good point about like attracts like and good men being worth the wait. I know that as human beings we are shaped by our experiences and a bad break up or a stormy relationship ain't always easy to shake. But most of the women I hear complaining about difficulty finding good men never had one to begin with. Or they fear still being unmarried and childless in ten years but don't date. You can't make a basket 'til you throw the ball, ya dig?
Some of my sistas refuse to date a man with less education than them or a man that has children. If that's your preference, cool. But there are good men that fit into both categories. Some women won't even talk to a man who is under a certain height (I've been guilty of this many times) or doesn't dress with a certain flair or doesn't have his own crib (guilty again- roommates are cool though). I'm not saying there's anything wrong with being selective. Please be. But some of our criteria is ridiculous and we our only hurting ourselves with these grandiose measuring sticks. I was watching Oprah last week and one of her guests was talking about making a list of desired traits in your potential mate and burrying it or some crap like that... Personally I think these lists are for the birds. But if you're going to make a list, keep it real.
Let's also start looking in the mirror. Literally. Fix your hair. I'm talking brush/comb it and give it a lil shine. Nothing extravagant. If you're having a bad hair day, put on a hat. But let the hat match your outfit. You ain't got to put on lipstick but a lil' chapstick or nude colored gloss would be nice. A nice apperance is important if you want a man to notice you. I don't care if you are just going to the grocery store... Men shop at the grocery store too, ya know. I'm sorry but first impression is important. He don't need to see what you look like on your worst day the very first time you meet. Then he won't ask you out. And then you'll keep singing that same tired a** tune that is driving me crazy!
If you're in a relationship that is not making you happy, end it. No it's not that hard. I don't want to hear about how complicated it is. The only thing I find complicated is why someone would choose to be unhappy and unfulfilled. And then mad at all men to come 'cause you stuck yourself in the mud and got dirty.
I've been blessed to have good men in my life, so I can attest that they do exist. They are out there. And there are lots of them. Every good man I meet may not be for me, but how would I know unless I give them a chance? Ladies, please give the men a chance. Hold brothas accountable for unacceptable behavior, but only the brothas that dish it. Not the entire brotherhood...
Ummm... I had a point and I got lost jumping up & down on the soapbox. Please forgive me. I just want my sistas to be happy. But y'all are killing me with the 'woe is me' sappiness. I just can't take it anymore. Let's be proactive in our quest for the Mandingo warrior of our dreams. Fix your hair. Fix your face (smile 'cause the smirk ain't cute). Fix your attitude. Love one another (haters are so unattractive). And love we shall receive.
On that note, to hell with Valentine's Day.
Tumultuously Yours,
Dark & Stormy
Monday, December 31, 2007
Quite Frankly: Ode to The Game - Part I
Hail to the Redskins!!!! Hail Victory!!!!
Big ups to the Skins for beating them stankin Cowboys and for making the playoffs. This has definitely been a stormy season for my hometeam and I'm glad they were able to pull it together over the past couple of weeks.
What do you call a sports lovin-beer drinkin while game watchin-tailgatin and game day grillin-can also play Madden woman? Dark & Stormy. Lol… Yup. I fit that description to a T. Imagine a female version of Steven A. Smith, though cuter and much shorter. That’s me! Any sport can hold my attention but my faves are definitely basketball and football (college & pros). Besides a couple of years’ of soccer in elementary school, my brief history of playing sports consisted of playing pick-up basketball with the neighborhood kids at the local courts. Also in high school, I would play touch football with the fellas from ‘round the way every Thanksgiving morning. Well it was supposed to be touch, but it was more like ‘shove football’. I’ve never been a big chick (usually one of the smallest in the bunch) but the abilities to catch well and run fast make me a decent receiver. I played safety also.
** Shot out to the late Sean “Meast” Taylor **
My love affair with football began circa 1990, when I fell in love with Gary Clark. Clark was a wide receiver for the Skins 1985-1992. He wore number 84 and was fine as could be. At least in my opinion anyway… I tried to share the oasis of sexiness with y'all but blogger.com ain't workin with a sista today. So click here.
Mmm hmm... Anywho, Clark along with fellow Skins receivers Art Monk and Ricky Sanders made up The Posse. This was back when the Skins used to do the damn thang, back when they won conference championships and Super Bowls… aahh those were the days. Now I didn’t know much about the game but Gary helped get the fire within me started. I started paying more attention to any sports talk that went on around me. I found it exciting the way that just the mention of a player or a game could light up an entire room of people.
I'll never forget when Darryl Green visited my junior high school. Green was one of the best cornerbacks to ever play (IMO) who spent his entire 20 year career with the Skins. Not only was he a great player, but a dynamic speaker. I think he came to the school to speak about community service because he has dedicated his life off the field to serving those in need.
Now growing up in a household sans men and with a woman who could care less about Monday Night Football presents a challenge to a young lady who has questions like what is play action and why do they keep throwing flags on the ground. I was definitely clueless on the role of a linebacker and had never heard of positions like tight end and fullback. There were uncles, cousins, family friends in my life who I could ask but have you ever tried asking a man questions about a game while he was watching it? What was I supposed to do- write them all down and ask when the game was over? And because I was a girl, nobody was trying to take me to games and toss the ball around with me like they did with the boys. I will further explore sexism & sports in a subsequent post.
So I learned on my own. Watched lots and lots of games, listened to the commentators on the TV and radio, read the sports section of the newspaper. And rooted for my Skins every Sunday :) As much as I hate seeing grown folks play video games, interactive ones like Madden helped me understand the inner workings of the game. I became able to anticipate plays based on how players lined up on the field or what penalty a ref would call and how many yards the penalty would cost the offending team. I earned rights to join the conversation at the watercooler on Monday mornings 'cause I started taking the fellas' money in the office betting pools (you do not want to see me come March Madness).
And though there are many female fans like myself, we still seem to be a minority. I only have a couple of girlfriends with whom I can discuss the game. When I say discuss, I mean they can tell me what I missed when I went to get a beer out the kitchen. In football terms, not "oh he threw the ball but the other one couldn't catch it. I would love for my homegirls to sit in FedEx Field with me, shouting DE-FENSE and getting drunk to stay warm. But they don't love the game enough to pay $150 for a ticket (I've seen them drop twice as much on pair of shoes but we ain't goin there today).
Yesterday, one of my friends came and watched the game with me. Now I was shocked she wanted to come 'cause she's definitely not a huge fan but that's my girl so it was cool. Well after almost every play, she'd be like "why did they blow the whistle? or "why do they start the ball at that line?" I was like I knew I should've left your a**. Lol... But I was patient. Because that was me at one time. And I'm happy to pass along all the good stuff I've learned thus far.
Most important- I'm always recruiting new fans :)
I wish you all a Happy New Year. May the new year bring you much peace and prosperity. Please be safe out there tonight.
Tumultuously Yours,
Dark & Stormy
Thursday, November 1, 2007
that beesch is eatin' good
A friend and I were recently discussing child support. Not in the i'm-tryin'-to-collect-mines sense but in the girl-you-see-how-much-so & so-has-to-pay-now sense. She seemed to think Take-dat take-dat having to pay over $19,000 a month was way too much but I didn't really have no kinda sympathy for his 5-kid, 3-baby mama havin' ass. But the convo got me to thinking...
Should there be a mandatory maximum on child support payments? Is there some upper limit at which we, as a society say, aw hell to da naw! That's way too much for one guy to pay each month to one woman whom he happened to sleep with without a condom?
Why is it that we applaud the average woman takin' her allegedly triflin' baby daddy to court to collect that $250 a month to help pay the daycare bill. (and why are daycare prices so off da chain...can we get some regulation of that industry) But when the tables are turned and the man is a mega millionaire there is suddenly an outpouring of pity and support for the poor sap who now has to pay $29000 a month to his baby mama (or mamas if he gets around like that).
Jermaine Dupri has an interesting take on the situation.
-Young, Rich & Dangerous, The Making of a Music Mogul (2006)
Basically if dude is making that much money, ain't no reason his child and baby mama should want for nothing much less have to haul his ass to court like this guy, or this guy (just to name a few). I think JD has a point. If you got it like that, don't you want your kids (and the person takin' care of your kids 24/7) to have it like that?
Yet, the argument always circles back to vilify the woman (notice how this also seems to happen in other situations i.e. rape--why was she over to his house at 3am?; kidnapping--why she out in the street so late by herself?; Video vixen/stripper--why she think shaking that ass/swinging on a pole is a legitimate way to pay for school?) but back to jump offs...the thought is that this chick is getting rich off her ass just cause she laid down with (insert famous Black artist/athlete/celebrity here). How dare she! She should be made to work. She shouldn't get to shop all day, blah blah.
Sounds like a bit of hateration in that kool-aid ya'll dranking. Yea yea you all can say now, as you hustle your independent woman self to work each morning, that you wouldn't be able to just sit around all day, you'd have a job or something... gurl stop!
You'd take that 28k a month and keep it movin. You might not literally sit on your ass all damn day but you damn sure wouldn't be working your current 9 to 5 (at least not on a everyday 9 to 5, 6 or 7 o'clock basis). You might dabble here and there in your current profession, do some charity work, etc. but you'd focus on raising your child into a productive adult.
Now, granted there are some jump offs who take their life of leisure to a whole nother level.
Like this chick Willie Gary hooked up with. I mean, come on. Don't go spending the cheese willy nilly like you ain't got no sense. But even in that situation can we really advocate for a mandatory maximum given the facts? His dumb ass initially voluntarily agreed to pay that much (prolly to keep her ass quiet). And according to a quote over at sandrarose.com, the amount he pays per month as a percentage of his yearly income (a whooping $13 million per year) equals out to a guy making $130,000 a year paying only $280 per month.
Marinate on that shit. Puts it in perspective, doesn't it? Not to mention that his ass has yet to see his son and daughter since birth.
With the amount of money that these guys have, why shouldn't they pay (or be forced to pay) these women a percentage to take care of their children. They laid down with these jump offs, with no trojans or magnums on the nightstand, with no thoughts to the consequences of what that phat piece of ass would cost them in real-life dollars nine months later. So now you wanna cry, "This is ridiculous, I need a mandatory maximum please Mr. Judge suh." Naw shawty, it don't work like that. And with all that bread you laying down for that chain, that car, that mansion, that white party in the hamptons, are you really hurtin for it? You feedin' cousin pookie nem, your "personal assistant/bodyguard," and his whole family, why not feed your flesh and blood and the woman who gave birth to junior/juniorette?
But that's just my opinion...what's your thoughts on a mandatory maximum for child support?
--Big Boi, International Player's Anthem
Should there be a mandatory maximum on child support payments? Is there some upper limit at which we, as a society say, aw hell to da naw! That's way too much for one guy to pay each month to one woman whom he happened to sleep with without a condom?
Why is it that we applaud the average woman takin' her allegedly triflin' baby daddy to court to collect that $250 a month to help pay the daycare bill. (and why are daycare prices so off da chain...can we get some regulation of that industry) But when the tables are turned and the man is a mega millionaire there is suddenly an outpouring of pity and support for the poor sap who now has to pay $29000 a month to his baby mama (or mamas if he gets around like that).
Jermaine Dupri has an interesting take on the situation.
"Someone in my position has to take care of his child and his baby mama. It's a point of honor that you set them up in a house, pay the bills, and give the mother of your child a monthly check so she can stay home and look after your baby. You've got the money so there's no excuse. In this industry, if you don't look after your baby AND your baby mama, you're an asshole. It's a code that makes guys like me a target."
-Young, Rich & Dangerous, The Making of a Music Mogul (2006)
Basically if dude is making that much money, ain't no reason his child and baby mama should want for nothing much less have to haul his ass to court like this guy, or this guy (just to name a few). I think JD has a point. If you got it like that, don't you want your kids (and the person takin' care of your kids 24/7) to have it like that?
Yet, the argument always circles back to vilify the woman (notice how this also seems to happen in other situations i.e. rape--why was she over to his house at 3am?; kidnapping--why she out in the street so late by herself?; Video vixen/stripper--why she think shaking that ass/swinging on a pole is a legitimate way to pay for school?) but back to jump offs...the thought is that this chick is getting rich off her ass just cause she laid down with (insert famous Black artist/athlete/celebrity here). How dare she! She should be made to work. She shouldn't get to shop all day, blah blah.
Sounds like a bit of hateration in that kool-aid ya'll dranking. Yea yea you all can say now, as you hustle your independent woman self to work each morning, that you wouldn't be able to just sit around all day, you'd have a job or something... gurl stop!
You'd take that 28k a month and keep it movin. You might not literally sit on your ass all damn day but you damn sure wouldn't be working your current 9 to 5 (at least not on a everyday 9 to 5, 6 or 7 o'clock basis). You might dabble here and there in your current profession, do some charity work, etc. but you'd focus on raising your child into a productive adult.
Now, granted there are some jump offs who take their life of leisure to a whole nother level.
Like this chick Willie Gary hooked up with. I mean, come on. Don't go spending the cheese willy nilly like you ain't got no sense. But even in that situation can we really advocate for a mandatory maximum given the facts? His dumb ass initially voluntarily agreed to pay that much (prolly to keep her ass quiet). And according to a quote over at sandrarose.com, the amount he pays per month as a percentage of his yearly income (a whooping $13 million per year) equals out to a guy making $130,000 a year paying only $280 per month.
Marinate on that shit. Puts it in perspective, doesn't it? Not to mention that his ass has yet to see his son and daughter since birth.
With the amount of money that these guys have, why shouldn't they pay (or be forced to pay) these women a percentage to take care of their children. They laid down with these jump offs, with no trojans or magnums on the nightstand, with no thoughts to the consequences of what that phat piece of ass would cost them in real-life dollars nine months later. So now you wanna cry, "This is ridiculous, I need a mandatory maximum please Mr. Judge suh." Naw shawty, it don't work like that. And with all that bread you laying down for that chain, that car, that mansion, that white party in the hamptons, are you really hurtin for it? You feedin' cousin pookie nem, your "personal assistant/bodyguard," and his whole family, why not feed your flesh and blood and the woman who gave birth to junior/juniorette?
But that's just my opinion...what's your thoughts on a mandatory maximum for child support?
"She supposed to spend it on that baby but we see she don’t
Ask ask Paul McCartney the lawyers gettin sloppy
Slaughter slaughter of them pockets, had to tie her to a rocket
Send her into outer space, I know he wish he could
Cause he payin 20K a day, that beesch is eatin' good
Like an infant on a double D, beesch is getting plump
Cause he miscalculated the next to the last pump"
--Big Boi, International Player's Anthem
Thursday, October 18, 2007
get yo back up off the wall and dance (by yo self)
Finished school, got a job, girl do your thang
it’s a lotta independent women wanna be claimed
marrying the money or marrying the fame…
(c) Rapper Big Pooh, "Take it Slow," Little Brother
For some women it starts as early as high school. Picture it…..(insert name of) high school, 1996. Homecoming dance, in the gym, a group of lil’ fresh teenage girls in a circle, dancing with one another while furtively looking over their half exposed shoulders, hoping that all their switchin’ and dippin’ will entice some yungin’ to come over, and pull one of them away from the sista-circle. He’ll be cute, a little arrogant and will want to dance with just her. And of course when he comes she’ll act slightly dismissive before slinking away into some dark musty corner where he will proceed to grind on her for the remainder of the night.
Fast forward ‘bout 10 years and instead of the high school gym, it’s the yuppie happy hour at Negril or Friday night at Love or that trip to South Beach with your girls or even the 11 o’clock service at New Birth (don’t get it twisted). Nothing’s changed…..the players remain the same with a little more skin exposed and a lot more male bravado in the air. Women look beautiful and available, stand on the sidelines and dance in those same sista-circles while men still doing the choosing. But now instead of just a dance as the goal, women are aiming for that illusive prize, the golden ticket…
Marriage....ahhhh
Marriage....when life begins (don’t steal my slogan people). When all her dreams come true. Here’s how some women think even though you will never ever (eva… eva… eva…eva get a strong black woman to admit this): If I can just get married I’ll be ok. I’ll be complete. I’ll be able to buy my dream house (two wage earner household baby!) I can stop working and stay at home or at least change to the job that I really want. He’ll give me my beautiful brown babies, “boy for you and a girl for me.” My life will get better, I’ll be happier. The flowers will smell fresher, my butt will grow bigger and we’ll finally catch osama bin laden.
Uhhhhhh…..no. not gon happen (c) new new. Cause what if you never get claimed? Or worse still, what if you do get claimed errr...... married, and it doesn’t make you happier or sexier and your life isn’t richer or fuller? What then?
I say claim yo damn self!
Look at men, they don’t wait to be claimed. They are the claimers. They just live! They decide when and where they enter yo space and when they be up out that piece. That’s the difference….so simple isn’t it….yet so hard for us (yes….*dipping her head*….I’ve been known to subscribe to the claim-me school of thought a time or two) to wrap our heads around.
When women meet a man, we immediately think of the possibilities: will he be a good huzband? what will our kids look like? what is this we doing here? does he like me? does he wanna be my boyfriend? if I give him some cookie, will he like me more? how long are we going to date before we get engaged?
All this goes on while we completely forget about the real flesh and blood man who we’re supposed to be just getting to know. Just learning about, just enjoying his company. We create who he is in our heads without fully engaging in the man who is sitting across from us at dinner, laying next to us at night, and taking up space in our hearts. If we took a closer look, maybe we’d see he doesn’t have all the qualities we want (and preferably this would take place before any cookie got passed out but alas it doesn’t always happen that way). We make it work cause he claimed us and that counts for something right? We overlook his shortcomings, his mishaps, his slip-ups in maintaining the level of respect we deserve. Or we look for that man that claims us to be our savior: the greatest lover ever, our best friend, our travel partner, our benefactor, our shopping buddy, our stand-in daddy to tell us what to do every once in a while, and the greatest intellectual the world has ever seen, after Drs. West and Dyson of course, all rolled into one.
Gurl stop! (c) big boi. That’s why you have your best friends, your real daddy and mama, that gay dude from your job who always finds the best bargains, and most importantly……wait for it…..
yo damn self!
So then, why do we give up all of that, all these people, all of us, when Mr. Man approaches, asks us to dance, takes our hand, and claims us?
it’s a lotta independent women wanna be claimed
marrying the money or marrying the fame…
(c) Rapper Big Pooh, "Take it Slow," Little Brother
For some women it starts as early as high school. Picture it…..(insert name of) high school, 1996. Homecoming dance, in the gym, a group of lil’ fresh teenage girls in a circle, dancing with one another while furtively looking over their half exposed shoulders, hoping that all their switchin’ and dippin’ will entice some yungin’ to come over, and pull one of them away from the sista-circle. He’ll be cute, a little arrogant and will want to dance with just her. And of course when he comes she’ll act slightly dismissive before slinking away into some dark musty corner where he will proceed to grind on her for the remainder of the night.
Fast forward ‘bout 10 years and instead of the high school gym, it’s the yuppie happy hour at Negril or Friday night at Love or that trip to South Beach with your girls or even the 11 o’clock service at New Birth (don’t get it twisted). Nothing’s changed…..the players remain the same with a little more skin exposed and a lot more male bravado in the air. Women look beautiful and available, stand on the sidelines and dance in those same sista-circles while men still doing the choosing. But now instead of just a dance as the goal, women are aiming for that illusive prize, the golden ticket…
Marriage....ahhhh
Marriage....when life begins (don’t steal my slogan people). When all her dreams come true. Here’s how some women think even though you will never ever (eva… eva… eva…eva get a strong black woman to admit this): If I can just get married I’ll be ok. I’ll be complete. I’ll be able to buy my dream house (two wage earner household baby!) I can stop working and stay at home or at least change to the job that I really want. He’ll give me my beautiful brown babies, “boy for you and a girl for me.” My life will get better, I’ll be happier. The flowers will smell fresher, my butt will grow bigger and we’ll finally catch osama bin laden.
Uhhhhhh…..no. not gon happen (c) new new. Cause what if you never get claimed? Or worse still, what if you do get claimed errr...... married, and it doesn’t make you happier or sexier and your life isn’t richer or fuller? What then?
I say claim yo damn self!
Look at men, they don’t wait to be claimed. They are the claimers. They just live! They decide when and where they enter yo space and when they be up out that piece. That’s the difference….so simple isn’t it….yet so hard for us (yes….*dipping her head*….I’ve been known to subscribe to the claim-me school of thought a time or two) to wrap our heads around.
When women meet a man, we immediately think of the possibilities: will he be a good huzband? what will our kids look like? what is this we doing here? does he like me? does he wanna be my boyfriend? if I give him some cookie, will he like me more? how long are we going to date before we get engaged?
All this goes on while we completely forget about the real flesh and blood man who we’re supposed to be just getting to know. Just learning about, just enjoying his company. We create who he is in our heads without fully engaging in the man who is sitting across from us at dinner, laying next to us at night, and taking up space in our hearts. If we took a closer look, maybe we’d see he doesn’t have all the qualities we want (and preferably this would take place before any cookie got passed out but alas it doesn’t always happen that way). We make it work cause he claimed us and that counts for something right? We overlook his shortcomings, his mishaps, his slip-ups in maintaining the level of respect we deserve. Or we look for that man that claims us to be our savior: the greatest lover ever, our best friend, our travel partner, our benefactor, our shopping buddy, our stand-in daddy to tell us what to do every once in a while, and the greatest intellectual the world has ever seen, after Drs. West and Dyson of course, all rolled into one.
Gurl stop! (c) big boi. That’s why you have your best friends, your real daddy and mama, that gay dude from your job who always finds the best bargains, and most importantly……wait for it…..
yo damn self!
So then, why do we give up all of that, all these people, all of us, when Mr. Man approaches, asks us to dance, takes our hand, and claims us?
Friday, October 12, 2007
The Revolution Will Be Styled
Remember when a certain kind of man wore locs? Think about it. What kind of man are you visualizing? The one I am picturing usually bought oil from the incense corner man, was a poetry reading regular where he recited verses about the forthcoming revolution and was regarded as "deep", a walking encyclopedia of the history of the African Diaspora.
I remember a time when a woman would describe a man she had just met and after giving the particulars: height, weight and skin shade, she would say in a hushed tone, "girl, and he has locs..." Like that was icing on the mothafuckin cake! Like that meant he had memorized the entire kama sutra and would have your legs quivering, that is after he made love to your mind first (of course). It seemed that if you were a man and you had locs, there was a good chance you could get a woman who just “couldn’t help herself around a brotha with locs” to drop her draws.
Well it seems those days are a'changin...
Because now I see nothing but (and excuse my stereotyping) lil' hood niglets wearing what appear to be haphazard locs, thanks to their biggest heroes, Lil' Wayne and Co.
I know you've seen them in your city, on your train and on the block. And um yeah, it's becoming an epidemic and it concerns me. Now I obviously can't tell someone what they can or can't do with their hair but I was under the impression that deciding to grow locs was not something you entered upon lightly. You know, it was something you consulted the Heavens and the Earth about first, lit a candle, did a little loc growing chant. You did your research on starting & caring for your new coiff and worried about how you would look in that 'in between' phase. Now it seems that you just have to ask the girl in your neighborhood who can do some hair to start locing you up. And now I find myself questioning these youngins’ “authenticity”, wondering if they know the history of dreadlocks, the strength that is their hair, saying to myself: oh they have dreads but they don’t have locs. Catch my drift?
So now with the niglets taking up the loc craze, it seems that many men I know have cut theirs (also something you don't do lightly)...Is it because the trend is changing? Are these men who were once regarded as "deep" fearful that they won't be taken seriously because now they will look like and be associated with the ‘Snap your fingers, do your step’ generation? And how will we know who the "deep" brothers are once they've cut their locs? Should we be on the hunt for some type of RBG clothing item?
Perhaps the locs of the earlier generation was just a trend as well, cloaked in incense, bad poetry and weed smoke and we just couldn’t see through the haze. But it was a trend nonetheless, reserved for a certain type of man. I mean if those men were really down and ready to start a revolution; wouldn’t it have happened by now? And just because these new crop of youngins’ have provided a different version of the trend, does that mean they won’t be just as down when the revolution comes?
So just when I’m ready to write these lil’ niglets off for just substituting the cornrow trend with locs, I think of the following words from the great Andre 3000:
Now question is every nigga with dreads for the cause?
Is every nigga with golds for the fall?
Naw, so don't get caught in appearance
It's Rum Punch Friday another Black experience*
Happy Rum Punch Friday! Have a great weekend! Join us again on Monday…
* Yeah I changed that last line. What are y’all going to do, tell Andre?
I remember a time when a woman would describe a man she had just met and after giving the particulars: height, weight and skin shade, she would say in a hushed tone, "girl, and he has locs..." Like that was icing on the mothafuckin cake! Like that meant he had memorized the entire kama sutra and would have your legs quivering, that is after he made love to your mind first (of course). It seemed that if you were a man and you had locs, there was a good chance you could get a woman who just “couldn’t help herself around a brotha with locs” to drop her draws.
Well it seems those days are a'changin...
Because now I see nothing but (and excuse my stereotyping) lil' hood niglets wearing what appear to be haphazard locs, thanks to their biggest heroes, Lil' Wayne and Co.
I know you've seen them in your city, on your train and on the block. And um yeah, it's becoming an epidemic and it concerns me. Now I obviously can't tell someone what they can or can't do with their hair but I was under the impression that deciding to grow locs was not something you entered upon lightly. You know, it was something you consulted the Heavens and the Earth about first, lit a candle, did a little loc growing chant. You did your research on starting & caring for your new coiff and worried about how you would look in that 'in between' phase. Now it seems that you just have to ask the girl in your neighborhood who can do some hair to start locing you up. And now I find myself questioning these youngins’ “authenticity”, wondering if they know the history of dreadlocks, the strength that is their hair, saying to myself: oh they have dreads but they don’t have locs. Catch my drift?So now with the niglets taking up the loc craze, it seems that many men I know have cut theirs (also something you don't do lightly)...Is it because the trend is changing? Are these men who were once regarded as "deep" fearful that they won't be taken seriously because now they will look like and be associated with the ‘Snap your fingers, do your step’ generation? And how will we know who the "deep" brothers are once they've cut their locs? Should we be on the hunt for some type of RBG clothing item?
Perhaps the locs of the earlier generation was just a trend as well, cloaked in incense, bad poetry and weed smoke and we just couldn’t see through the haze. But it was a trend nonetheless, reserved for a certain type of man. I mean if those men were really down and ready to start a revolution; wouldn’t it have happened by now? And just because these new crop of youngins’ have provided a different version of the trend, does that mean they won’t be just as down when the revolution comes?
So just when I’m ready to write these lil’ niglets off for just substituting the cornrow trend with locs, I think of the following words from the great Andre 3000:
Now question is every nigga with dreads for the cause?
Is every nigga with golds for the fall?
Naw, so don't get caught in appearance
It's Rum Punch Friday another Black experience*
Happy Rum Punch Friday! Have a great weekend! Join us again on Monday…
* Yeah I changed that last line. What are y’all going to do, tell Andre?
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