We are all familiar with phrase Honesty is the Best Policy. Yet I think it’s safe to say that we have assessed certain situations and discovered that while honesty is a policy it may not always be the best one at the time. Like if someone’s child looks more like a gremlin than a human baby it’s probably best to “Awwww!” and go on about how precious they are, opposed to exclaiming “Daaaaaaaaamn what the *beep* was that thing?!” Riiiiiight? Right. Or even if your homegirl is dating or marrying a flaming homosexual (knods at Star Jones) maybe it’s better to stay mum, because gaydar is not always accurate. But what policy should we adopt with is comes to adopted children?
Generally speaking I think adoption is a great idea! Be it a road, a grandparent, a puppy or a person. I can’t even convey here how excited I was when my parents were considering adopting a boy a couple years younger than I! As an only child it was a dream come true. But unfortunately it wasn’t a dream that materialized and I occasionally wonder how different life would be for the three of us if my parents had follow through with their plan. I think, if I ever have enough money in my bank to finance it, I’d like to adopt a child, the legal way. But I wonder when is the right time to be honest with the adopted?
It seems that if you don’t tell the child while they are young like pre school age, there really is no right moment. Jack Nicholson found out that his sister was really his mother from a journalist in 1974 after both is mother and grandmother passed on. My mother’s cousin found out after the neighborhood kids informed her through their taunts and teases that her parent’s had picked her up some place. A girl from my high school still doesn’t know the man she calls father isn’t biologically related to her, and her mother is no longer in the picture. And I have heard other stories of kids finding out on their 18th birthdays after their entire families have concealed the truth years. “Happy Birthday Jimmy! You are an adult now and we aren’t your parents! Now go be a productive member of society.” Say whaaaaaaaaaaaaat?
This weekend I learned of yet another adoption tale to add to my collection. I found out that a girl from my church- for the sake of story we’ll call her Naomi-was adopted. I always assumed that the older lady she rolled with to church activities was her granny, but alas that’s what I get for assuming. Last month by coincidence, luck, destiny or however else you’d like to label God’s divine will, Naomi found out she had a younger sister (who is walking around with Naomi’s face) who also attended the same church. For months people asked them if they were related and their retort was no, besides Naomi was adopted. But then one day the girls started talking and Naomi shared what she knew about her birth parents. Younger sister said the same things about her birth parents. The rub is that Naomi’s sister was not put up for adoption and still lives with their birth mother. Or course birth mother is feeling uncomfortable about the two girls hanging out with each other; which I can kind of sort of understand because it’s hard to face the truth after 17 years. But my heart breaks for Naomi, because I can’t help but wonder what it is like for her to see her sister and other siblings go home to their momma. My heart breaks for their mother who made decision-which I can only assume was difficult-that no one else understands but her. But it’s a lot to deal with for all parties involved, and I wonder if it would have been better for all if we church folks just continued to wonder how it could be possible for two girls to look so similar and not be related. Isn’t God amazing?
And I think for all of us as we get older we start learning the family secrets and it can be jarring. There are several cousins who I later discovered weren’t related to me by blood, but it didn’t change anything for me. Back in the day many a young pregnant woman birthed their child, gave it to big momma to raise and that was the end of it.
But what it was like for my cousins, when the truth was fully revealed? Did they really care about knowing the truth when a loving family formed around them and the lies anyway? Or were they appreciative that honesty was the policy eventually chosen?
See You In Seven
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Friday, June 11, 2010
The Boy Is Yours
When all the John Edwards baby mama ish hit the fan I actually read Ms. Hunter’s interview in GQ magazine. Even though Dark and Stormy was on some, “girl you crazy, I ain’t readin’ that trash.” But uh yeah it was a slow news day. Or I had work to do and didn’t feel like it. Can’t really remember.
But I do remember deciding to see what this heffa had to say. And in between her ‘being is free’ business cards and her boundless love for Johnny, she basically had a laissez faire, devil may care, I don’t owe Lizzy nuffin type attitude. You see she was just doing her own thang. And Johnny, even though he was married, chose to step to her. And she received him. Cause she is free. And is just passing through this thing called life, like a star or a comet. Ya dig? But under the surface, beyond the craziness, when you got past all the hippy dippy B.S., peeled back the layers and tried to find a reason for their “affair.” What she was basically saying, (to use one of Mint Julep’s favorite quotes) was don't be surprised that it went down like this cause…
“Nyggas ain’t shyt, but hoes and tricks.”
And I agree. Now that’s not fair Rum Punch, all nyggas ain’t shyt, but...OK. That’s true. So, to quote another wordsmith, I’ll say, the world is filled with pimps and hoes, we’ll just talk about those I know. And so as a single woman I have dated men who have left and chose another. They got into deep, deeeep relationships almost immediately. Found the one and got engaged. Almost immediately. And that’s cool. Ain't no thang. This is of course after the tears and the curse words. Then it's all do you man. Until….
Until they came back like what you doin? How you been? What’s up with you? Maybe we should… And you be like oh you single now? Nope. Not at all. Not even a little bit. Still with that other chick. Oh. Oh? Ohhhhhhh.
Admittedly I can be a tad naïve or eyes wide shut when I get a, ‘wanna go to dinner’ text (as I did this past weekend) from a former beau. And I have asked aloud, “why does he want to meet with me?” And I have gotten the virtual and physical O_o from Minty, my brother, and other comrades. But you see for me – because I have moved on I assume they have as well.
And so there were times in the past when I have accepted the invitation. Only to feel a foot against my leg or awell misplaced hand on my back. And it feels good. For a minute. Like a literal ego stroke. And it’s like YESSS!!! Vengeance is mine, chick! (Yeah you just forget that you totally moved on) You start dancing on the inside, talmbout if that’s your boyfriend, if that’s your boyfriend, if that’s your boyfriend, he wasn’t last night. In yo' face bi-ya! In yo' face!!! Cabbage patch. Running man. Roger Rabbit. And do the snake - you lose, I win, you lose! These are the things that have gone through my mind.
But then you know I come to my senses. I refuse the advances. But I also wonder about the other woman who is in actuality his woman. His ride or die. Who thinks he's the best, the minfin best. Who she just knows can't do no wrong. Whom she trusts. Lots. And I know she don’t know about this. She don’t know about me. And that makes me sad. Lose hope. In these nigs. In all of humanity. Heh.
Ms. Hunter, Alicia Keys, Gabby Union, all the other no name, mistresses/side pieces/jump offs often get blamed, get good tongue lashings on the blogs, in the media, and are continually chastised for “taking” someone else’s man/husband. The other woman's retort comes right on cue – I didn’t take him. He came willingly. Yada.
But I do remember deciding to see what this heffa had to say. And in between her ‘being is free’ business cards and her boundless love for Johnny, she basically had a laissez faire, devil may care, I don’t owe Lizzy nuffin type attitude. You see she was just doing her own thang. And Johnny, even though he was married, chose to step to her. And she received him. Cause she is free. And is just passing through this thing called life, like a star or a comet. Ya dig? But under the surface, beyond the craziness, when you got past all the hippy dippy B.S., peeled back the layers and tried to find a reason for their “affair.” What she was basically saying, (to use one of Mint Julep’s favorite quotes) was don't be surprised that it went down like this cause…
“Nyggas ain’t shyt, but hoes and tricks.”
And I agree. Now that’s not fair Rum Punch, all nyggas ain’t shyt, but...OK. That’s true. So, to quote another wordsmith, I’ll say, the world is filled with pimps and hoes, we’ll just talk about those I know. And so as a single woman I have dated men who have left and chose another. They got into deep, deeeep relationships almost immediately. Found the one and got engaged. Almost immediately. And that’s cool. Ain't no thang. This is of course after the tears and the curse words. Then it's all do you man. Until….
Until they came back like what you doin? How you been? What’s up with you? Maybe we should… And you be like oh you single now? Nope. Not at all. Not even a little bit. Still with that other chick. Oh. Oh? Ohhhhhhh.
Admittedly I can be a tad naïve or eyes wide shut when I get a, ‘wanna go to dinner’ text (as I did this past weekend) from a former beau. And I have asked aloud, “why does he want to meet with me?” And I have gotten the virtual and physical O_o from Minty, my brother, and other comrades. But you see for me – because I have moved on I assume they have as well.
And so there were times in the past when I have accepted the invitation. Only to feel a foot against my leg or a
But then you know I come to my senses. I refuse the advances. But I also wonder about the other woman who is in actuality his woman. His ride or die. Who thinks he's the best, the minfin best. Who she just knows can't do no wrong. Whom she trusts. Lots. And I know she don’t know about this. She don’t know about me. And that makes me sad. Lose hope. In these nigs. In all of humanity. Heh.
Ms. Hunter, Alicia Keys, Gabby Union, all the other no name, mistresses/side pieces/jump offs often get blamed, get good tongue lashings on the blogs, in the media, and are continually chastised for “taking” someone else’s man/husband. The other woman's retort comes right on cue – I didn’t take him. He came willingly. Yada.
Having been placed in potential compromising situations – I understand where these chicks are coming from. Sure I never made him come to me. Sure he chose to be an a*hole in the dark and live an 'I'm getting fitted for my angel wings' life in the light. But I don’t have to go to dinner. I can plainly ask, “does your fiancé know you want to come over to my house?” Does your girlfriend know you picking me up in her car? And decline invitations when it seems, that something in that milk ain't clean.
Cause as I get older (even though I do get so lonely), I choose to do right, regardless of if they want to do wrong. And it's not always for altruistic reasons. Or cause I feel sorry for the other woman. And think that we are bonded by sisterhood. Or cause my moral compass is always pointing North. Or cause I believe karma is a bi-ya. It's mainly because I've done the math, the cost analysis as it were, and decided these nyggas' tricks, their shyt, just aint worth it.
That’s my time y’all! Happy Rum Punch Friday!
Taking it even farther back cause it's Friday and I'm iganant like that! He's mine you may'a had him once, but I got him all the time. You can't sleep at night. BWAAAHH!
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Social Studies
So I wonder as I wander what personal interactions will look like on the street in the next 5 years, given that we now live our lives through Facebook, Twitter and texting.
I was at my cousin’s graduation party and all the children were hanging out in the basement. Me being younger than the old folks, decided to start off hanging out in the land of the yougins. Music was playing and there was occasional laughter- but overall it was pretty quiet. Everyone had their cell phone in hand texting away! Actual interaction among the attendees mainly consisted of demands to pose for a picture with someone’s camera phone. I guess just to show via Facebook that they were there in attendance. My younger cousin even went so far as to get the laptop to show me and her best friend who lives up the street pictures she posted on the Book because we could see them better than on her phone. Seriously? Realizing that I am older than the young folks, I went upstairs with the grown folks. They were laughing and talking to each other about the 70’s, their kids who still live at home and the “joys” of getting older. But they were doing it without responding to the latest chime on their iPhone. Their conversations were face to face, totally free of hand held distraction. And there I was in the middle of it all, able to relate to both worlds but not feeling completely comfortable. It was weird.
As an early 80’s baby I feel like I am the last of the breed who can hold a conversation over a plate of food and leave my cell phone in my purse. I even like to send thank you notes and get well cards through the (gasp) mail! But by the same token I enjoy sending emails and text messages over having telephone conversations. Ugh! Just picking up the phone to call someone requires that I have subject matter at the ready. Gone are the days when people could just spend hours on the phone talking about…well nothing at all. In this instantaneous society I feel like I need to have a purpose in my call, there is no room for phone call randomness. It’s much better to randomly send an “I found the perfect toilet paper!” text, than having a phone conversation about how I’ll never use the CVS brand again. Because really who has time for that?
Even at work when my phone rings I wish in my soul, as allow the call to go to voicemail, that they would just send me an email. Email allows me to answer you when I feel like it. And I like that! If you ask me a question on the phone that I don’t know the answer to I have to pretend that 1. I care 2. that I am listening 3. I will actively spend the rest of my day trying to find the answer for you. When in fact I will do 4. Surf the internet and address your concern at my convenience (usually 30 minutes prior to me leaving for the day).
But maybe this is just me. I’m not on the Book, I’ve never Tweeted, back in the day I was one of the first to let my Black Planet page lapse. So I can safely say that me and technology aren’t particularly fond of each other. But texting and email do suit me just fine! And by stating that, I know that something has changed, because I use to be a phone call every day-or a least a couple times a week kind of teenager. And my teen years aren’t that far behind me. And something keeps changing among us human folks as a whole. When we have folks passing each other on the street and can’t even say hello in person, but they are Facebook friends! What’s up with that? It makes me feel like being so connected all the time is making us all a little more socially awkward when we meet face to face.
See You In Seven
I was at my cousin’s graduation party and all the children were hanging out in the basement. Me being younger than the old folks, decided to start off hanging out in the land of the yougins. Music was playing and there was occasional laughter- but overall it was pretty quiet. Everyone had their cell phone in hand texting away! Actual interaction among the attendees mainly consisted of demands to pose for a picture with someone’s camera phone. I guess just to show via Facebook that they were there in attendance. My younger cousin even went so far as to get the laptop to show me and her best friend who lives up the street pictures she posted on the Book because we could see them better than on her phone. Seriously? Realizing that I am older than the young folks, I went upstairs with the grown folks. They were laughing and talking to each other about the 70’s, their kids who still live at home and the “joys” of getting older. But they were doing it without responding to the latest chime on their iPhone. Their conversations were face to face, totally free of hand held distraction. And there I was in the middle of it all, able to relate to both worlds but not feeling completely comfortable. It was weird.
As an early 80’s baby I feel like I am the last of the breed who can hold a conversation over a plate of food and leave my cell phone in my purse. I even like to send thank you notes and get well cards through the (gasp) mail! But by the same token I enjoy sending emails and text messages over having telephone conversations. Ugh! Just picking up the phone to call someone requires that I have subject matter at the ready. Gone are the days when people could just spend hours on the phone talking about…well nothing at all. In this instantaneous society I feel like I need to have a purpose in my call, there is no room for phone call randomness. It’s much better to randomly send an “I found the perfect toilet paper!” text, than having a phone conversation about how I’ll never use the CVS brand again. Because really who has time for that?
Even at work when my phone rings I wish in my soul, as allow the call to go to voicemail, that they would just send me an email. Email allows me to answer you when I feel like it. And I like that! If you ask me a question on the phone that I don’t know the answer to I have to pretend that 1. I care 2. that I am listening 3. I will actively spend the rest of my day trying to find the answer for you. When in fact I will do 4. Surf the internet and address your concern at my convenience (usually 30 minutes prior to me leaving for the day).
But maybe this is just me. I’m not on the Book, I’ve never Tweeted, back in the day I was one of the first to let my Black Planet page lapse. So I can safely say that me and technology aren’t particularly fond of each other. But texting and email do suit me just fine! And by stating that, I know that something has changed, because I use to be a phone call every day-or a least a couple times a week kind of teenager. And my teen years aren’t that far behind me. And something keeps changing among us human folks as a whole. When we have folks passing each other on the street and can’t even say hello in person, but they are Facebook friends! What’s up with that? It makes me feel like being so connected all the time is making us all a little more socially awkward when we meet face to face.
See You In Seven
Monday, June 7, 2010
Past Puppy Love
When I was 13 a met a young man at a beach picnic and exchanged numbers drawn in the sand. To this day I still remember that number, even though I never wrote it down. On this day, I experienced my first kiss and it was kind of magical when I think back on it. Sunset on the beach, looking out at the water, sitting side by side, man puts his hand on my far shoulder, then uses his other hand to wrap his towel around me and go in for the kill. DAMN! That was hot... if only I could find my diary from back then now. I don't remember the cologne he was wearing but I do remember the feeling of being swept off my feet by his smell. It went down as one my best kisses EVER! (sigh) I didn't even know what to make of this event at the time. All I knew was that I liked this dude!
Later that night I got the beating of a lifetime. Little did I know my house was a no boys zone and my mother was absolutely livid I gave him my number. (sigh) I was so naive, never in a million years did I think she would freak about a boy calling the house but to make matters worst... when she asked me questions about him I told her the truth. If I could go back in time I would have never told her a thing! But oh no, I told her everything! And it was everything that caused me to get my butt tanned. When I think back on this incident I completely understand why punishment was necessary. This boy who I had given my number to was 7 years my senior... Whoa!
Need less to say, that was a wrap. He was not calling me anymore. (sigh) But then again, I still wanted to talk to him. It wasn't like I was ever going actually see dude considering my mother would probably kill me. We went from a simple kiss at sunset to an occassional phone call here and there. Boyfriends came and went and I could always rely on him to help me out when in a bind. Countless emergency rides home from parties and pep talks to get through studying for exams. The ultimate protector in my back pocket. Two years of this and it was time for my mother and this young man to meet again. By this time it was okay for boys to call the house and you better believe, he was on speed dial. In fact, the irony of this story is that the day my mother met him, she loved him. Even to this day... she still loves him. Makes us chuckle inside every time because if she only knew he was the same boy from way back when that she claimed could not possibly have anything in common with me. You couldn't tell me at 15, we weren't a match made in heaven. The relationship lasted until I was 19. And at the time, he was SO out my league.
I went off to college and he stayed home. I think that was the last we ever spoke. Except for the one time he built up the courage to warn me about a past loser boyfriend. By this time, I had labeled him my first love and the direction my life was moving in was no going to collide with his again. For years my best friend would tease that on one of these trips home I was going to see him and fall in love with him again. And for years, I would say, "Please he is so out of my league. What could we possibly have in common?" Then it happened. Tens later I run into this dude on the day I am supposed to return to Philly and you could swear it was as if we were separated by war. WTF?!? It was though nothing had changed. My heart was beating like crazy and frozen. I could tell he was just as nervous as I was yet we still managed to speak.
Okay, so all the times I played this possible event over in my head... I thought it would go something like this. We meet, we say "whats up?" then go our separate ways. The last thing I was expecting was a heart felt apology for breaking my heart and the "I still love you" speech. Excuse me? What is a girl supposed to do with that? (sigh) Then here comes, I am not going to let you out my life again. WHAT?!? Dude I live miles away! I am not going to lie, just like our first kiss, this meeting seemed unreal! He then reminds me of how when we first met, he always knew I was going to be his wife. And I am thinking yes, I remember you saying that back then... but come on, we are adults now. This is the second time I have heard such non sense from an ex so why was it trippin' me up this time? O-M-G! This is way too much for me right now. So what do I do? And is it truly possible to resurrect a relationship that I had defined as past puppy love? Or was this about to be something different and better? Who knows?
Much luv 'til next week... peace:)
Later that night I got the beating of a lifetime. Little did I know my house was a no boys zone and my mother was absolutely livid I gave him my number. (sigh) I was so naive, never in a million years did I think she would freak about a boy calling the house but to make matters worst... when she asked me questions about him I told her the truth. If I could go back in time I would have never told her a thing! But oh no, I told her everything! And it was everything that caused me to get my butt tanned. When I think back on this incident I completely understand why punishment was necessary. This boy who I had given my number to was 7 years my senior... Whoa!
Need less to say, that was a wrap. He was not calling me anymore. (sigh) But then again, I still wanted to talk to him. It wasn't like I was ever going actually see dude considering my mother would probably kill me. We went from a simple kiss at sunset to an occassional phone call here and there. Boyfriends came and went and I could always rely on him to help me out when in a bind. Countless emergency rides home from parties and pep talks to get through studying for exams. The ultimate protector in my back pocket. Two years of this and it was time for my mother and this young man to meet again. By this time it was okay for boys to call the house and you better believe, he was on speed dial. In fact, the irony of this story is that the day my mother met him, she loved him. Even to this day... she still loves him. Makes us chuckle inside every time because if she only knew he was the same boy from way back when that she claimed could not possibly have anything in common with me. You couldn't tell me at 15, we weren't a match made in heaven. The relationship lasted until I was 19. And at the time, he was SO out my league.
I went off to college and he stayed home. I think that was the last we ever spoke. Except for the one time he built up the courage to warn me about a past loser boyfriend. By this time, I had labeled him my first love and the direction my life was moving in was no going to collide with his again. For years my best friend would tease that on one of these trips home I was going to see him and fall in love with him again. And for years, I would say, "Please he is so out of my league. What could we possibly have in common?" Then it happened. Tens later I run into this dude on the day I am supposed to return to Philly and you could swear it was as if we were separated by war. WTF?!? It was though nothing had changed. My heart was beating like crazy and frozen. I could tell he was just as nervous as I was yet we still managed to speak.
Okay, so all the times I played this possible event over in my head... I thought it would go something like this. We meet, we say "whats up?" then go our separate ways. The last thing I was expecting was a heart felt apology for breaking my heart and the "I still love you" speech. Excuse me? What is a girl supposed to do with that? (sigh) Then here comes, I am not going to let you out my life again. WHAT?!? Dude I live miles away! I am not going to lie, just like our first kiss, this meeting seemed unreal! He then reminds me of how when we first met, he always knew I was going to be his wife. And I am thinking yes, I remember you saying that back then... but come on, we are adults now. This is the second time I have heard such non sense from an ex so why was it trippin' me up this time? O-M-G! This is way too much for me right now. So what do I do? And is it truly possible to resurrect a relationship that I had defined as past puppy love? Or was this about to be something different and better? Who knows?
Much luv 'til next week... peace:)
Gyal me wann fi hold yuhhh put me arms right arounddd ya
Gyal you give me the tightest hold me eva seen in my life
Friday, June 4, 2010
The Breadth of Life
Earlier this week I watched the video of Kat.Stacks getting the ish smacked out of her. And my mouth was agape. I don’t know much about her, but I know enough that she has apparently made what some might consider some poor choices and is becoming persona non grata in the hip hop world. We can debate all day long her level of foulness, but I do hope that we can all agree that it’s never ok for two grown ass men to run up on a woman and start slapping her in the face. That is not ok. Ever. And I wonder if women know that. If men know that. If these babies know that. If they watched it and laughed. If they will mimic the behavior. If they will ever learn that it’s never ok.
And then I read this article yesterday about a 7 year old girl contracting gonorrhea from her mother’s “boyfriend.” And it broke my heart. And made me sad. Sure she is not the only little girl whose innocence is taken away on a daily basis. Who has no voice. No power. No choice. But I wonder what will her future look like? What if 20 years from now she is the next generation’s Kat.Stacks? And everyone is all, “look at that ‘ho.” Not realizing what she came from. Is this to say every promiscuous woman has been molested? No, of course not. Does every promiscuous woman have low self esteem? Hmmm… I don’t know. That’s all relative and subjective, I suppose.
What I do think, is that what we are seeing is a lot of pain in these babies. Pain that has nowhere to go, but out, because it has already gnawed up the insides. I once heard a pastor say that it is the events that make you grow as a person that we are often too embarrassed to talk about. And this is where I stopped writing yesterday because I didn’t know what else to say.
And then I attended my church’s revival yesterday night featuring the awesome Rev. Dr. James Forbes. He preached from Ezekiel 37:1-14 – the valley of dry bones and raising bones from the dead. And then like no other revival I had ever attended – he stopped his sermon, told us all to sing Jesus Loves Me (yes the song from childhood), hug yourself while singing it, greet one another in that love, and then get with a partner and ask them – Where do you see death in this nation? Its dry bones?
My partner was an older woman whose face and name I knew, but I had never really spoken to. We had read the same Washington Post article – she in the morning (and she couldn’t read anything else after that), me in the evening before coming to church. We had the same reaction. Sadness. Anger. Helplessness.
But like any good pastor, Rev. Forbes didn’t just ask us where we see death, dry bones that need to be put back together and have life breathed in them – of course he asked us what we are going to do about it. Because that is our job as Christians. But even if you’re not a Christian by name or practice, I have always believed that it is our job as human beings – to comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable. In a huge way. A seemingly small way. But somehow. Someway.
Over the years I have felt a calling to help and work with little girls (which is why the two stories I started off with really spoke to my soul). I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because I grew up in a loving, nurturing family and community and I want to ensure that all little girls know what it feels like to be loved. Maybe it’s because in spite of being loved and wanted, I have had some traumatic experiences that only me and the Lord know about – that left me feeling unloved and unwanted. And I would never want a little girl to think they have to struggle with emptiness and brokenness all on their own.
Recently I have despised coming to work. And it’s not because of the work that I do, but because of the politics of the job and the organization. But last night’s sermon reminded me, that it’s not about me at all, that the work I do is part of something bigger – giving little brown and black girls new opportunities, a safe space where they feel loved and encouraged. But it's easy to forget when you have to deal with so much other foolishness.
Cause it can be hard to fulfill one’s purpose in a world of materialism. Where success is defined by the amount of money in your bank account and the car that you drive. It can be difficult to rise above the clatter of work, cell phones and other technology that keep us in constant communication, family obligations, hair appointments, when is my husband coming thoughts, my car needs a new transmission and I don’t have the money woes, oh yeah and other bills are piling up too, and Lord there is oil oozing into the ocean, and a huge sink hole, and babies are killing each other over gold plated bracelets, and folks are losing their homes, and, and, and… And find your place in it all. Your purpose. Your destiny. That in truth should have nothing to do with you at all.
As I step off my philosopical soap box, Rev. Forbes also said something that I have to further ponder. He said, "oftentimes we want to appear to the world as just beautiful, fresh cut flowers. Just kinda doing our own thing. But we must be rooted [in faith]." But to take it out of Christian context - I feel that we must be rooted in something greater than ourselves. What roots you? Inspires you? Moves you? Provides you with the strength to make it through the day? What gives you the very breath you need to make this life worth living?
That’s my time y’all! Happy Rum Punch Friday!
And then I read this article yesterday about a 7 year old girl contracting gonorrhea from her mother’s “boyfriend.” And it broke my heart. And made me sad. Sure she is not the only little girl whose innocence is taken away on a daily basis. Who has no voice. No power. No choice. But I wonder what will her future look like? What if 20 years from now she is the next generation’s Kat.Stacks? And everyone is all, “look at that ‘ho.” Not realizing what she came from. Is this to say every promiscuous woman has been molested? No, of course not. Does every promiscuous woman have low self esteem? Hmmm… I don’t know. That’s all relative and subjective, I suppose.
What I do think, is that what we are seeing is a lot of pain in these babies. Pain that has nowhere to go, but out, because it has already gnawed up the insides. I once heard a pastor say that it is the events that make you grow as a person that we are often too embarrassed to talk about. And this is where I stopped writing yesterday because I didn’t know what else to say.
And then I attended my church’s revival yesterday night featuring the awesome Rev. Dr. James Forbes. He preached from Ezekiel 37:1-14 – the valley of dry bones and raising bones from the dead. And then like no other revival I had ever attended – he stopped his sermon, told us all to sing Jesus Loves Me (yes the song from childhood), hug yourself while singing it, greet one another in that love, and then get with a partner and ask them – Where do you see death in this nation? Its dry bones?
My partner was an older woman whose face and name I knew, but I had never really spoken to. We had read the same Washington Post article – she in the morning (and she couldn’t read anything else after that), me in the evening before coming to church. We had the same reaction. Sadness. Anger. Helplessness.
But like any good pastor, Rev. Forbes didn’t just ask us where we see death, dry bones that need to be put back together and have life breathed in them – of course he asked us what we are going to do about it. Because that is our job as Christians. But even if you’re not a Christian by name or practice, I have always believed that it is our job as human beings – to comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable. In a huge way. A seemingly small way. But somehow. Someway.
Over the years I have felt a calling to help and work with little girls (which is why the two stories I started off with really spoke to my soul). I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because I grew up in a loving, nurturing family and community and I want to ensure that all little girls know what it feels like to be loved. Maybe it’s because in spite of being loved and wanted, I have had some traumatic experiences that only me and the Lord know about – that left me feeling unloved and unwanted. And I would never want a little girl to think they have to struggle with emptiness and brokenness all on their own.
Recently I have despised coming to work. And it’s not because of the work that I do, but because of the politics of the job and the organization. But last night’s sermon reminded me, that it’s not about me at all, that the work I do is part of something bigger – giving little brown and black girls new opportunities, a safe space where they feel loved and encouraged. But it's easy to forget when you have to deal with so much other foolishness.
Cause it can be hard to fulfill one’s purpose in a world of materialism. Where success is defined by the amount of money in your bank account and the car that you drive. It can be difficult to rise above the clatter of work, cell phones and other technology that keep us in constant communication, family obligations, hair appointments, when is my husband coming thoughts, my car needs a new transmission and I don’t have the money woes, oh yeah and other bills are piling up too, and Lord there is oil oozing into the ocean, and a huge sink hole, and babies are killing each other over gold plated bracelets, and folks are losing their homes, and, and, and… And find your place in it all. Your purpose. Your destiny. That in truth should have nothing to do with you at all.
As I step off my philosopical soap box, Rev. Forbes also said something that I have to further ponder. He said, "oftentimes we want to appear to the world as just beautiful, fresh cut flowers. Just kinda doing our own thing. But we must be rooted [in faith]." But to take it out of Christian context - I feel that we must be rooted in something greater than ourselves. What roots you? Inspires you? Moves you? Provides you with the strength to make it through the day? What gives you the very breath you need to make this life worth living?
That’s my time y’all! Happy Rum Punch Friday!
Thursday, June 3, 2010
wanna get next to you
ya'll remember kirk? he's the dude i went out with that one time after many a false start and then he friend-zoned me on the slick. let me take you back...
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?
well kirk is back at it again. since his grace-less bow out, kirk has been randomly texting and calling me about every couple of weeks, attempting small talk about the weather, his work, and baby kittens: all manner of generic things you talk about with someone you seemingly never want to see naked.
then my life became like an episode of how i met your mother. my co-worker called me: listen up i got a story to tell. [insert the black flashback screen that reads "a couple days ago..."]. at a training session, my co-worker met a woman, we'll call her lois lane, who will be interning at our office this summer. lois lane asked my co-worker, you know this woman named mint julep? she works in your office. co-worker replies of course. why do you ask? lois lane says i want to work with mint julep for the summer and solicits my co-worker's help in hooking her up with me for the summer.
[insert co-worker's mean side-eye here]
co-worker questions lois lane about why she's so thirsty for a drink of the minty freshness. and out comes the craziness. apparently lois lane is good friends with captain kirk. he has confided in her how much he was/is/will forever be feeling me. he's shared with her how perfect i was for him and how he feels like he blew his chance with me. but he believes that if she can talk him up to me during the summer his window of opportunity might re-open. so her plan is to drop little hints about how great he is during her internship.
boy stop! girl bye!
[flashback to the present and me laughing into the phone at the super-weirdness that my life has become.]
i can just imagine kirk sitting up in his room all alone at night harboring feelings for me holding his pillow tight, coming up with this master plan. i feel a little vindicated that his whole "let's just be friends" thing was a great big ball of stage fright. but it's also really weird to me that he's doing the most trying to get next to me when he had many a chance to do so already. and kinda sorta pretty much fucked that allllllll the way up. or not. theoretically he still has an opportunity if he comes at a sista on the real real, in a grand gesture-like standing up on a counter in the middle of fall carnival kinda way. let me get another chance to make you love me girl. but alas, he's taken the lemme play mind games on you approach.
i thought only females plotted and schemed for hours on end to perfectly time the exact second mr. quarterback walks past her in the hallway to drop that chemistry book at his feet and do her best bend and snap. it feels a little like truth about cats and dogs or sleepless in seattle or that random episode of girlfriends (shouts to rum punch).
and again i say who does that?
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Using My Lazy Card...Again!
Don't you hate it when you are bored at work, school or at life in general and you go to a blog 'specting to laugh or at least be mildly amused and all they have posted is a stupid video? Like how freaking lazy can they be?!
It's like going to a Jay-Z concert and his hype man is cuing up the iPod to play Blueprint while Jay-Z sits on stage sipping Fuji Water!And you paid 85 bucks for this? (which will probably be the case in about 15 more years)
It's like going to a resturant and the waiter pulls up a chair and sits down to take your order and then wants to stay awhile and chat about our past lives! (true story, it happened to me and my home girl a few years ago).
It's like yo momma standing in the kitchen while you are upstairs trying to find a cure for cancer through google searches and she asks you to get her a drink of water! Huh?! Why she can't do it, if she's already in the kitchen?!
And I am that freakin' lazy today ya'll. With today being the first day back at work after nearly a week, family in town for little cousin's graduation tomorrow and choir rehearsal at the church house going longer because which our fabulous minister of music flinging his wrists around (aka directing) people weren't sure when they should sing. My brain doesn't have anymore to give ya'll than Usher's OMG!
Sorry ya'll, but I secretly-well not so secretly now-and with guilt love this song!
See You In Seven
It's like going to a Jay-Z concert and his hype man is cuing up the iPod to play Blueprint while Jay-Z sits on stage sipping Fuji Water!And you paid 85 bucks for this? (which will probably be the case in about 15 more years)
It's like going to a resturant and the waiter pulls up a chair and sits down to take your order and then wants to stay awhile and chat about our past lives! (true story, it happened to me and my home girl a few years ago).
It's like yo momma standing in the kitchen while you are upstairs trying to find a cure for cancer through google searches and she asks you to get her a drink of water! Huh?! Why she can't do it, if she's already in the kitchen?!
And I am that freakin' lazy today ya'll. With today being the first day back at work after nearly a week, family in town for little cousin's graduation tomorrow and choir rehearsal at the church house going longer because which our fabulous minister of music flinging his wrists around (aka directing) people weren't sure when they should sing. My brain doesn't have anymore to give ya'll than Usher's OMG!
Sorry ya'll, but I secretly-well not so secretly now-and with guilt love this song!
See You In Seven
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