We Be Clubbin'

So as we get older, hopefully we grow and learn new things. But there are some things we just know about ourselves. I for one realized sometime around the age of 19/20ish that I hated clubs. Lounges and bars – loved them. I could even handle a club before thing really get popping – when the Happy Hour specials are still in effect, the dance floor is kinda empty, the DJ hasn’t started his reggae/dancehall/wtf set yet, and I can still roll through in a cute workish outfit, wearing flats.

But I realized that what I totally hated was putting on a “freakum” dress, 3 inch+ heels, making sure my hair was did, looking as Amaretto would say ‘behind God’s backyard’ for parking, standing in a long line, paying an unreasonable amount for coat check, only to be surrounded by a bunch of stank lookin chicks and ‘what yo’ name is’ nyggas, listening and "dancing" (cause you know we don't dance no mo') to the same top 10 songs from the radio, and so on. So once I learned the best place to dance and be considered fabulous was the gay club, I pretty much stopped going “clubbing.”

And yet last week during Howard’s Homecoming, I was met with this question. “where are you going to party this weekend?” “Ummm… Nowhere,” was my reply. Mainly because I have am a wee bit fearful of the mix that is Negroes, likka, and pit bulls. But I digress. So I left it up to my fellow co-worker who’s also 28 to do the heavy lifting. She hit up some spots and came back with a report. And it was just how I figured it would be. And confirmed what I already knew, it ain’t nothing but some bullshyt out there.

So co-worker comes back with tales of this man tried to holla and he was driving a NICE range rover. And then this man tried to holla and he has a mansion in Tysons Corner (oh that's “wealthy" area for those not in the DC Metro). This other man who tried to holla was part owner of some urban t-shirt company. And we exchanged numbers. And... And I was really trying my darndest not to give her a 'wtf' look the whole time she spoke. But in my mind, I was like, “for real?” Like do you really believe that mess? Did you really entertain them like beyond the VIP section access and the free grey goose? Do you really think any of those men are/were worth your time?

And that takes me to that age old question, can you really meet somebody in the club? Like for real, for real? If you were in the club and someone stepped to you, would you really take them seriously? And maybe that’s why I really stopped doing the whole club thing because it felt like people were looking for something that they were never going to find. Just chasing something as elusive and transparent as air. One person in the dark, something completely different in the daylight. Just fake. And phony. Broke people “buying” the bar. Women with weaves to their behinds. People passing out homemade business cards that describe them as "consultant". And I know that when you are first digging and getting to know somebody, you are really meeting their representative. But in the club, it feels like you’re meeting their secretary.

And while I don't knock anyone who likes going to the club (I just silently judge them in my head and now on this here blog), I do wonder - after you've reached a certain age - don't you get tired of it all? Isn't it just the same thing weekend after weekend? And then can you really be upset when you come back to work on Monday "blown" that there were no decent men? That they were all posers. Or too gay. Or too short. Or too thuggish. Or too nerdy. Or too young. Or too old. But never just right. And never quite what you've been looking for. Never what you really want. Or need. Just filler. Seemingly standing in the way of the real thing...

That's my time y'all! Happy Rum Punch Friday!

keeping legs closed

i've always like teyanna taylor.  for no real definable reason other than she's cutie patootie.  and she does her own thang. and did you see her on mtv's super sweet 16 in 2007?  the life style doll!  say word! and while get my daily dose of celebrity gossip this morning i ran across this over at theybf.com that made me like her even more.  i really like teyanna taylor.   and then this made me like her even more.

Q: Wait Wait Wait…your still a virgin?? I’m really happy to hear that.

A: Yes. The one thing people can never say is that I’m a hoe. I have a purity ring. The only time you get in trouble is if you attempt to do something. If your laying up on a boy then something is going to happen. So I just keep my legs closed until I am ready for that. I can’t have a boyfriend because the only thing they want to do is have sex. I don’t want no fingers up there, no penis, nothing!!! Uh uh (shaking her head no).

Q: You know many young girls think that virginity is lame and promiscuity is cool. They succumb to peer pressure and then find themselves in grown folks situations that they aren’t equipped to handle. So I’m pleasantly surprised to hear that you have your head on straight.

A: Egypt I even try to teach these girls. I hold bible study class at St. Lukes church in Harlem when I’m home. I actually teach the class because I want them to know its okay to praise God and keep your legs closed. I’m just trying to be a good example right now.

source: theybf.com and egypt.

during a recent sit down with egypt she talked about her virginity and how she's a motivation for young girls.  i think it's cool that she's not shy about her virginity and that she's a "cool" role model that other young girls can look up to. 

she also got me to thinking....if i could go back to when i was 18 (and still a virgin) would i do things differently?  would i have a purity ring? would i keep my legs closed?  cause you know they say once you dip your toe in the pool, it's all down hill from there.

what say ya'll?

proximity to power?.?.?

The days of your home being your sanctuary, private space are numbered.

The days of walking nekkid through the house are ova? oh, my...
All be'cuz people don't want to mind thier bizness...

"[A] 29-year-old was naked and home alone, and could face up to a year in jail."

what on God's green earthing is going on?

he said
So, Eric was minding his business or so he thought, when the cops showed up.

she said
"[a] 45-year-old woman, ..., was walking her son to school about 8:40 a.m. along a well-traveled path between public tennis courts and the house where ... when a noise drew her attention to a side door.

That's when she first noticed Eric standing nude in the doorway, she said. When she and her son got to the sidewalk in front of the house ..., they saw him again -- this time, through a large window that appeared to have no drapes."

SEEK... and you shall find

Now,there's a huge piece of information I omitted... so I'll try this again sorry

""[a] 45-year-old woman, the wife of a police officer, was walking her son to school about 8:40 a.m. along a well-traveled path between public tennis courts and the house where ... when a noise drew her attention to a side door.

That's when she first noticed Eric standing nude in the doorway, she said. When she and her son got to the sidewalk in front of the house ..., they saw him again -- this time, through a large window that appeared to have no drapes."

read full story here

So, what's the civic body to do?
It's a classic case of individual rights versus civil liberties.

Isn't perturbing to some to know that your contribution to your city/county taxbase is used to lock yo ass up?

And isn't far more irritating that if Ms. Bizzeebody wasn't married to said officer, that this would have been a non-issue?!?!?!

proximity to power-- ain't that a b****

Before I let you go, I'll leave you with a classic line from Goodie Mob...
whose that peeping at my window?...


cheers,

Bellini

Make New Friends

I remember a few years ago a woman from my church telling me that she was a bridesmaid in a wedding. When I inquired whose wedding it was she said
“It’s my friend’s wedding. Though she would probably say she is my best friend but she isn’t.”
Ummmm, say what church lady? How could there be such a disconnect between how the relationship is qualified? Not saying that when you meet people in the grown and sexy world of adulthood that there has to be a moment where you ask “Are you my best friend?” But there should be some mutual consensus riiiight?

Anyways, I didn’t think about church lady’s statement anymore until yesterday when I found myself in a similar situation. My supervisor (60 year old white man) told my co worker (37 year old white lady)* and I that he’s been battling cancer since March and wanted to tell us because he considers us to be his friends and felt that by concealing this he was lying to us. Say whaaaat? You are my boss dude! We are cool but this really isn’t any of my business. And while I felt honored that he told me and not his mother or the other co-workers I wasn’t prepared to be a supportive friend as he shed tears over hash browns at McDonalds’s. I wasn’t prepared has he told us of the pain he has endured all these months as I have voiced my complaints about stupid work stuff! But beyond all that, I didn’t know we were cool like that.

Sometimes, I long for the days when you could clearly identify what category people fell under. Are they an acquaintance, associate or a friend? Does anyone else remember those best friend forever necklaces and bracelets? Oh how labels make things easier to understand!

But I’m learning that these relationship misunderstanding happen quite often in adulthood-not just in our romantic relationships. Last year, my mom was a little offended when the associate Pastor at her church didn’t tell her that she was going through a divorce. The backdrop to the story was that the Pastor relieved (aka fired) the associate Pastor from her position because both had decided that she couldn’t handle her ministerial functions while going through the divorce. My mom didn’t know that initially as she ranting about the Pastor’s decision making. and my mom went to bat for the associate Pastor. Later when she found out part of the reason was the divorce she was handling and there was concern about how she could fulfill her role as pastor at this time, my mom was full of hurt. She felt she should have been informed. Really mom? Is that any of your business? But my mom had considered her friendship with the associate pastor an evenly paved two-way street.

I am learning that in life you never know how your life will be changed by the people you meet. Or how you are changing the lives of the people around you as you are living your own. As I sat in my coworker’s cube we both shed tears for our boss and then I said a prayer that my friend would beat his cancer!


See You In Seven

*I felt the ages and races were important because most of my friends either are close to my own age or are in my race.

Crazy Possessive

Not sure what to say to this but I thought I would share...

Pride and Prejudice

So depending on how much you care about HBCUs and civil rights and/or liberties, by now you that Morehouse College, the only HBCU in America for Black men has instilled a dress code for class and other campus events. Apparently the dress code is more about what you can’t wear instead of what you must wear. And what you can’t wear are: hats indoors (not bad), sagging pants (okkk I'm liking this) purses and dresses. SCREECHHHHH!!!!!

No purses? No dresses? This can’t really be a mandate, you ask. Oh but it is. So the blogosphere has been all atwitter with several views on this issue. You can check ‘em here. And here. And do a google search and find many more. Now, while I’m all about people’s self expression. I’m also in agreement with this dress code because I’m hearing from recent graduates and current students that it has gotten bad. Real bad, Michael Jackson. Heh. And students, aka the consumer, expressed their discomfort to administration of men rolling up to 8am classes in skinny jeans and pumps.

But this post isn’t even really about the dress code. Or self expression. It’s about why do Black gay men gotta be so extra with theirs? I mean honey we know you are gay from 100 miles away, in your sleep – do you need to be rocking those stilettos? As soon as I heard about the dress code and what was not allowed – I got a visual of what must be happening and it looks a little something like this:

Only what I really envisioned was 10 times worse, but I got tired of trying to find the image I had in my mind of flamboyant gay men during spring break in Daytona Beach. But I can relate to the Morehouse students cause I see it all the time in DC. Youngins’ takin over the block in droves, struttin through Chinatown in pumps and weaves. And I wanna be like is that what being gay means to you? That's a problem. And so I know it’s way worse in the A, gay Black man capital of dare I say the world. Don’t believe me? Ladies, go to Lenox Mall on a Saturday and get your feelings hurt.

And I know we all go through our period of self definition and expression, but I wonder, why gay Black men gotta be doing the most? Compare and contrast Cyrus from the show King of the Crown on TLC.
And Derek J, who has made guest appearances on Housewives of Atlanta.

Ummm....

Now, I think it’s safe to say that we all could have guessed Cyrus is gay without him even opening his mouth. Or putting on a dress. And while I’m obviously not a homosexual, it seems that Black homosexuality is becoming a little one note – donning Gucci/Louis/Seven, wearing stilettos, and uttering catch phrases like, “fierce” and “you better work, bytch!”

It’s the man who sews my weave and then puts in some tracks of his own. It’s Dwight on Housewives with the arched eyebrows and the fussiness (although even he remarked he didn’t do the heels thing). It's Luther Vandross. Soft and effiminate. Non threatning. It’s “safe” because it’s in your face. And you know exactly what you're getting. And us black folk don’t like our gay men to be “regular”, blending into the crowd and such. While at Spelman, I recall a Morehouse student saying, “I don’t wanna know the guy I play basketball is gay.” Ahhhh yess.

And yet it’s not “safe” because as my mama would say, “everyone’s not ready for that" in your face, deal with who I am attitude. And so "rules" of conformity are set & enforced and people feel like they can't be themselves. But more importantly it's not "safe" cause it's a caricature. I echo someone who commented to the root article and ask - where are this generation's James Baldwins? Bayard Rustins? Countee Cullens? Am I the only one who thinks their voices should be a little louder? That they should set the tone. But maybe I need to be more hip to the homosexual happenings, cause I mean I'm sure they exist. But that ain't what I see on a daily basis. What I see is this:

That's my time y'all! Happy Rum Punch Friday!

Just for Kicks!

desperately seeking husband

one of my first posts on this here blog was about women and marriage. and the agnst that women feel when they get close to 30 and aren't married.  and the idealist view they have that marriage will solve all their problems.

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 wrote that shiz almost 2 years ago and it still rings true. probably now a little truer. harder. louder. stronger. seems like every other day i'm having a conversation with someone about wanting to be married and desiring to have a husband.  praying for God to send a man.  longing for what some other woman has...a man that wants to caved to the ultimatum has agreed to marry her.

but to all my single ladies out there be careful what you wish for.  you just might get it and a whole host of other problems. 

take suzy, a woman at my job.  she moved down to my city after her boyfriend, bobby, had been living here for a year.  she made him promise that if she moved down, there would be babies and marriage on the horizon since the two had been dating for about 2 years prior to the move.  after bout a year in new city, neither one of these things had materialized.

after some pestering she got an engagement ring. on the slick tho.  nobody really knew they were engaged.  there was no announcement or party.  and the ring was this pitiful looking gemstone.  not that i'm a diamond whore or anything but don't just throw any old ring at a sista like "you betta be happy you got this here."

so then the "engagement" lagged on for another six months.  then one day suzy started rubbing her belly like she had a bun in the oven.  and over the next few weeks the #1 topic of office gossip was whether suzy was preggers and if bobby was now gonna make her an honest woman.  then all of a sudden a wedding date was announced and suzy started looking happier.

meanwhile bobby is telling anyone that will listen that this baby was not expected and will probably be referred to as "hey you." last saturday night, bobby was throwing back booze at a work party while suzy sat at home alone.  and bobby was talkin much shit about suzy.  clearly bobby doesn't want to be married but suzy wants it with all her heart.  and she's gonna get it.  but what kind of marriage will it be?  and is being married for the sake of being able to say you not single really worth the lonely saturday nights, the disrespect and the heartache?

i think that single women ought to stop focusing on the ring, the dress, the flowers, the chapel, the status, the "married" box on applications, age, mamanem, being the last one, a house full of cats, dying alone, and all those other foolish images that spring into their heads when they get all worked up about not being married.

think about what marriage means.  what committment means.  what love means.  and whether you've got a clear picture of what you're wishing so hard for.

think about the hard work marriage involves.  the compromises that will have to be made.  the selfless acts that you will have to undertake. and get your head wrapped around whether you're ready for alladat.

and in the meantime, in between time, DO YOU!  not in that cliche sorta way. but for real for real.  make a concious effort to live your best life NOW! go on that trip NOW! buy that house NOW! make that career move NOW! take that leap NOW!

don't wait for a husband.

that's just my interpretation of the sitchyashun.  what say ya'll?