Me, Myself An Eye

"Put To Right": Lisa Warren and the Liberal White Hood

2009-12-17T08:58:00.007-05:00

"And here is my office, where I do things wholly unrelated to both your athleticism and adultery."

Yesterday, White female writer* Lisa Solod Warren published a piece on the Huffington Post that was a veritable explosion of White privilege and subconscious racism . "Two Black Role Models Done In By Hubris" compares disgraced husband/champion golfer Tiger Woods to President Barack Obama. It's nonsense and seems better suited for Fox News than HuffPo:

In the past few weeks, the two most famous and arguably most successful black men in America have taken a huge fall. It has become clear that both pro golfer Tiger Woods, just named Athlete of the Year by the Associated Press, and the American president, Barack Obama, the first black person to lead the country, suffer from a surfeit of hubris which has finally caught up with them. If both men somehow thought they were untouchable, they have been put to right. (PUT TO RIGHT?!?!)Both have crashed to earth and it may well be true that they can never recover their earlier status again.

While Woods' "indiscretions" affect only himself and his family, he has felt the sting of the media invasion and a permanent loss of privacy. His reputation as sport's good family guy is gone. For Barack Obama the honeymoon is really over, even those who wanted to give him a chance are getting tired of what is not getting done, what was promised and reneged on. There is disappointment enough in both of them. (I should have stopped reading here. Anyone who compares the fall of an athlete's clean image to her personal feelings about a President's performance- one that is tethered by his right-wing, racist subordinates and countrymen- is not reasonable).

It is tragic when an icon falls. When a black icon stumbles the tragedy seems doubly problematic.(For whom? For Black folks? Or in the eyes of racist Whites who hold them to different standards than they do their own?) Mike Tyson, Magic Johnson, and Michael Jackson were all at the tops of their fields before revelations that made them less palatable as heroes and less of a role model for young black men.(Who is she to comment on this?) They have all been partially rehabilitated but not without a huge cost.

And now while the news if full of Tiger Woods' penchant for tawdry moments with women who can't hold a candle to the physical beauty of his wife, (Objection: relevancy.)the information we get on Obama, while far less salacious, is even more disillusioning. The expectations of real change that had people in tears a little over a year have been so thoroughly dashed that too many of his supporters feel betrayed by their naivete; they feel, as I do, almost foolish for believing that the status quo could really be kicked out the door (Given the climate of the country and the number of people with both Palin buy-in and IQ levels, how is this Obama's fault?).Is it even possible for our national landscape to change? Can we really progress from a country of individuals all looking for their stake to a country that actually has the notion that a stake for everyone means more for all? Having worked for weeks and months for Obama, having written glowingly about his oratory skills (He's articulate!)and his ability to gather even the disenfranchised together, as well as capture that ephemeral youth vote, I stood at rallies and allowed myself that enormous surge of hope that connected me with the rest of the country. But what was our choice? (Basically, "I didn't want this Negro, but he's all we had.")

...Both men are of mixed race. Yet the majority of the country, including black Americans, sees them as black. That's not a bad thing.(Of course not. How could you judge them accordingly if you don't see them as Black?) Except when such men of intelligence and talent, men who have such influence and power, can't help but succumb to the age old twins of greed and power...(Such men=powerful men, no? Why, again, is race a factor?) If Woods had been smart he would have kept his head down, played golf and taken care of his beautiful family instead of publicly destroying them. If Obama had enacted campaign reform as the first order of business real change could well have happened...(Campaign reform is the most pressing issue of the day? How would that have changed things at this point?)

What the people who worked and voted for Barack Obama wanted to see was a man who would stand up for principle and the ideals he spoke so stunningly of while campaigning.What those who were shocked at Woods' dalliances wanted to believe was that the first black man to be famous for a sport other than basketball or football was really who he appeared he was.(Who knew Tiger Woods was the savior for Black manhood? I thought he was Cablinasian. And a golfer.)

Woods remains an amazing golfer and athlete but his tumble to earth by hubris makes him far more human than god, and the entanglements that his weakness have brought may in fact undermine his game forever. (Wait, he was Godlike before? Was Tiger supposed to be the next Jesus? I missed that somehow.)

And Obama remains a brilliant thinker, an orator who can rally the masses, a supremely educated man and, by all accounts a dedicated husband and father (Relevancy?). But he has been unable to fight the system he said he wanted to fight. He has been unable to effect real, honest-to-goodness change. (And this is, apparently, all his fault.)In the spirit of reconciliation instead of leadership, he has slipped and fallen on the battlefield of politics. All we can hope is that he can stand up again, soon, and take charge.

I kept waiting for confirmation that this was satire. I looked to see if this was some sort of cross post from The Onion, or if perhaps Warren is a writer for The Daily Show. I could not believe that she was serious, though this should not come as any surprise to me, given that she is an American. A good old-fashioned privileged White American woman bringing these two high faluting Negroes back to earth with an tongue lashing.

Warren has as much authority to speak on Black role models and their relationship to Black people as I do telling someone they need to be a better example to Irish people or Christians. She has decided that because Woods is both highly successful and famous that he is a role model to Black boys. Given both my years of experience working with ACTUAL Black boys and Tiger's desire to be identified as a multiracial man, I disagree. If Warren's piece served any purpose, it was a reminder that Black folks are the main ones who really entertain the ability of mixed race people who are part Black to identify as "other".

That aside, there are absolutely no grounds by which these two men should be compared in this way. "Hubris"? This is a polite way of saying "uppity". While Tiger may have destroyed his wholesome image with his rampant whore mongering, It was not his pride that "did him in". I've never heard "hubris" used in relation to the many White male public figures who have publicly shamed themselves and their families with rampant adultery. As far as Obama is concerned, her assessment of his Presidency to date has no tangible evidence that it is excessive pride that has led to what she believes are his failings. If anything, hasn't it been his pandering across the aisle which has dealt a blow to his reputation as a change agent? Is that a result of PRIDE? What is the real reason Warren feels these men needed to be "put to right"?

Warren has racialized her criticism of these men and that says far more about her and her internal, subconscious racism than it does about Obama or Woods. Her piece is offensive from top to bottom. The nerve of a middle class privileged White woman to demand that these two men 'keep their heads down' to suit her comfort is insane. As laughable as it is that this woman believes herself to be able to speak on who is and is not a role model to Black people, it is the fact that she has deemed excessive pride to be what brought these men "down". She would have NEVER implied that a White athlete in Woods' position should have "kept his head down". And I highly doubt that she would be describing the downfall of President Obama one year in to this term were he not Black.

You could play a great covert xenophobic Liberal drinking game with this article. Take a shot every time Warren says something that is almost comically racist. And if you aren't vomiting yet, you will be when you check out the writer's Twitter page, where she pulls the classic White liberal victim game: "It seems I am being labeled by some a racist. No rationale for that but people like to call out names....", " Seems anyone who speaks about race is a racist. BS", "I hope all my new twitter followers wont be disappointed when they find out I am not a racist and am still a liberal democrat." and the best one: "You would be surprised at the number of black people I know. Not the old "I can't be racist! I have Black friends!" Forget a drinking game. Just take a bottle of Henny to the head and pray it makes any knowledge of this woman's flaccid writing disappear.

Perhaps Warren has seen one two many 'magical Negro' movies and believes that we are supposed to posses some sort of superior morality and ability to please White folks whist keeping our heads down. What she has NOT seen, as of this morning, is the err of her thinking and her racism. Warren doesn't wear a hood over her face, but there is one over her cognitive abilities. Her piece is little more than a new millennium burning cross. Today, she has been floundering about the comments section of her article crying foul for the fact that Blacks, Whites and others have been able to see what she cannot. So long as Warren refuses to realize that she's the one who needs to keep her head down...in a book, learning the meaning of White privilege and subconscious bias, HuffPo needs to pass on any more of her tripe.

*See what I did there, Lisa? No, you probably don't.

Train of Thoughtlessness

2009-12-15T08:40:00.003-05:00

If I have a headache and you have the swine flu, that doesn't make my head hurt any less in solidarity or deference. And if we both have the chicken pox, the universe doesn't cancel out our illnesses because they match. So I don't really understand why when an issue is raised about a particular group of people, a representative for another group feels the need to divert attention to someone else's problems. I call it playing "Oppression Olympics", and I do not have time for these reindeer games.

The existence of racism does not negate the reality of misogyny, which in no way trivializes the dangers of homophobia. Bias against obese people doesn't obliterate the existence of underweight folks who suffer from eating disorders. Abject poverty in India does not render the struggles of a poor family in the Bronx unimportant and neither mean that the middle class family who lost their house during the recession aren't suffering. AIDS in Africa* does not somehow cure AIDS on 79th and Stony Island.

Problems, peril and pain are everywhere and the existence of yours doesn't invalidate mine. Playing Oppression Olympics keeps us from ever really addressing our issues. I've seen it far too often and it's disturbing to observe how few people are unable or perhaps, unwilling to have a conversation without moving their personal issues (or someone elses' whom they deem more important) to the center. How many times have you heard a debate over gay rights when someone decides to remind us all that Black people have suffered in this country for centuries? Every time I have participated in or witnessed any discussion about domestic violence against males, I have seen a concerted effort to trivialize the issue by someone reminding us about that whole male on female violence. Because, you know, we forgot. There is some transgendered woman on Twitter who seems to spend most of her day fussing at feminists who she doesn't know because we are all, apparently, transmisogynistic. Because we aren't speaking about HER issues, she has decided that we are against her.

You can look at the comments section of most blogs that travel weighty subjects and see where people derail the conversation by belittling the topic at hand with their own issues. It happened here yesterday, not hardly for the first time, but to the point where I was actually angry. In a discussion about dissatisfied single Black women, a few brothers informed us that they, too, were dealing with their own single issues. I understand that outsiders sometimes feel connected to the topic at hand (when it comes to Black female issues, anyone who is not both of these things is an outsider) and want to relate. Sometimes relating is good and at other times, it is a derailment and seems to speak to a lack of respect for the other group's frustration.

I'm sorry, I didn't hear you because I was too busy talking about myself.

People should learn to listen without attempting to personalize every conversation. Yes, I am sure that Black men and White women and one legged biracial bisexuals have their own specific issues when it comes to dating. However, this was a piece specific to Black women, inspired by a recent article about a Black woman and on a blog written by a Black woman. It is not the place to tell Black women "I got issues too" in a way that implies that Black women's' are not valid. I get it. Your blues ain't like mine. But if you don't let me sing my tune, I may lose my mind.

The great thing about blogging is that you can do it for free. You can go to Blogger or Wordpress or any number of other sites and you can have your own platform to discuss your thoughts. And you can say "Hey, I read your piece about single Black women. It inspired me to write my own thoughts out about some of the issues facing single Black men. I'd appreciate it if you read it and perhaps we can talk some things out." And if it isn't a long, tired piece explaining why all the thoughts the single Black girls on my site don't count, then I'll be happy too. Hell, you can email me and ask to submit a piece about Black men and dating and ask me to run it. I'd be GLAD to.

This selfishness or shortsightedness is not hardly limited to the blogosphere. It happens in classrooms, coffee shops, board rooms. How many times have you told a friend you were stressed out and instead of expressing solidarity or simply listening, she ran down a list of HER issues in a way that implied they were bigger than yours? This is a common human mistake, but it's one that can be easily corrected. Step outside yourself and imagine how you'd feel if you were down and the person you chose to share that with had to make the whole pity party about him.

To paraphrase a passage from Voltaire's Candide, unless you can see inside a person's heart, you do not know quite how things affect him. One person may suffer the loss of a pet far greater than another the loss of a friend. And when you attempt to assign weight to someone else's pain, you are travelling dangerous territory.

The Oppression Olympics have been a death knell to any substantial solitary amongst various groups of marginalized people in this country at large, and even in some of the smaller communities in which we exist. Let me have my space to air my issues out and I will gladly listen to yours. And if I don't, there is your space to criticize. NOT when I'm simply trying to breathe.

*_Because, apparently, it's the WHOLE Africa with the AIDS. I've never heard anyone reference AIDS in North America, btw.

Disappointment Is The Recurrent Black

2009-12-14T01:02:00.002-05:00

When I got the first email from a friend linking me to an article on the Washington Post's website that was titled "Successful, Black, Lonely", I said "Uh, no. Not today." I already knew what it was gonna be about and I had no interest in dealing with the emotions it would stir. I know the drill: I'm Black, I'm pretty, I'm smart, I went to a good school and I do not know that I will ever find love. Been there, done that, trying to make optimism my shield. "I will not read this."

Such a cute girl, why is she trying to destroy me?

By lunchtime, the article had been sent to me about five more times and it was causing a buzz on the Twitter. At that point, I didn't have a choice. I read the WaPo's profile of Helena Andrews with a tightness in my chest. Hers is a story I've heard many times, one that actually played a small part in my decision to break out of DC for good. Andrews is an attractive and accomplished journalist with a interesting background and a wall full of fancy diplomas. She rolls with a crew of similarly gifted ladies in DC and can't none of them seem to find the man they feel they deserve. At only 29, her memoir Bitch Is The New Black has been optioned by Grey's Anatomy producer Shonda Rhymes (before it was even finished, to boot).

I was surprised at the backlash the piece and Andrews received on Twitter, from men in particular. I honestly do not think that, from what we have seen so far (meaning: the book, nor the movie have been released), the bredren have any room to criticize the young lady yet. Sometimes, outsiders need to learn to step back and let someone else unpack their personal pain from a respectful distance. Unlike many writers (present darling adorable blogger included), Andrews didn't engage any real criticism of Black men, but instead shed light on the pain she and her crew are managing for the lack of the "right" ones in their lives.

The sisters seemed to fall into two camps. Many expressed feelings of solidarity and shared frustration (I also picked up on a few folks who seemed to resent that Andrews had beat them to the punch with this book). Others seemed to resent the implication that single equals lonely. To speak to the latter, I don't think it's so much that Andrews or any of the many hundreds of female writers who have lamented the often painful search for love have decided that all single people live empty lives. But, rather, I see an expression of frustration at the inability to have something one really wants.

The plight of many single, accomplished Black women can be likened to that of a job seeker with an illustrious resume who cannot find work in her field. You have all the right qualifications and yet, the doors aren't opening to you. It's like never getting in to med school if you wanted to be a doctor since childhood. If you are a woman who wants a boyfriend or a husband and you cannot find one, that is hard to manage. As with anything one truly wants and flounders in search of. Some women (and men) have romance sitting high atop the list of things they desire most in life. I am one of those women. It's difficult, because unlike many other pursuits or goals, love is one that is not simply the result of your qualifications.

I personally find it hard to reconcile the fact that my White female and Black male counterparts have a far easier time finding love than I. White women do not outnumber White men in the same way that Black women do ours. Eligible Black bachelors (and even those who should NOT be eligible) essentially have a Black woman buffet to pick and sample from. And the ones most of us want tend to take full advantage of the odds and have the luxury of sampling plenty of goods before settling down with one woman. I believe this is why a lot of sisters get far too attached to "Mr. We Just met" or "Mr. Not Right At All"; we are trying to manage the forced competitiveness with other women or a lack of other suitors or a fear that if this guy doesn't work out, we're all alone again.

Andrews article made me feel like good Black girls were a dime a dozen. So many of us are smart, so many of us are pretty, so many of us are doing well for ourselves. Who do I have to be to have a boyfriend? Dating in one's 20's or 30's should not be so heavy, so frightening. I don't like the weight of that knowing statistically, I'm not likely to be married ever. I want to enjoy this time, sample from a brother buffet of my own and let Mr. Right show himself when he's supposed to. I do not want to be bitter or salty. I do not want to go out with men I'm not interested in just to say I went on a date. I want to be recognized for my dopeness in the romantic field, not to feel like I'm just one of many.

For the moments of depression and the occasional tears, I do feel that I have managed well to face the end of my mid-twenties with an attitude of optimism about love and romance. No matter how disappointed I feel at times, I have yet to allow myself to believe that I won't be a married mother with a happy brood in the next decade. Andrews is 29. 30 is considered to be a benchmark age for many pursuits, personal and professional. I do not know that I will have the same optimism at 29 if my romantic life is the same that it is now.

My only issue with Andrews' book is the title. I understand it to be a play on the Tina Fey joke from last years election Andrews describes herself as a mean girl and bitchiness as the mask she wears to protect herself from hurt. I personally feel that the word bitch is used too frequently for Black women who exhibit any modicum of fortitude and I distance myself from the word as a result (though I, too, am most certainly capable of wearing "the mask" of hardness when needed). I can almost guarantee that much of the criticism surrounding this book will be about calling oneself a mean girl and then being surprised when the love train passes you by. Unless Andrews is just a full out asshole (I didn't get that from her profile, nor from her Twittering), she may just be encountering the harsh reality of being one of too damn many.

I'm looking forward to a new Black female story being told in Hollywood, though I do dread the glaring eye of others that it brings with. The criticism from Black men, the psuedo empathy from non-Black women. The complaints that "this isn't ALL Black women" (because all Black movies have to adequately represent all Black people in a positive manner, of course). I think it would be great if the film begins to dismantle the notion that independent, accomplished Black women are in the business of being emasculating and crass. Beneath the mask, there is often a sister who is hurting because she feels that life is denying her one of the things she wanted most. It is my sincerest wish that Andrews and Rhymes capture this image effectively and lovingly.

Single, lonely Black women are not some tragic and desperate monolith. Some of us our victims of our own choices; others are falling short due to the reality of the numbers game. I appreciate that Andrews seems to be saying 'here is my story: I'm single and I don't want to be and I'm not sure why I am'. She doesn't seem to be posing herself as the perfect romantic partner and undoubtedly this very public catharsis will alert her to things she may need to improve upon on a personal level should she wish to find a partner.

The conversations sparked by her work have actually been going on for years and will need to continue if we are to attempt to somehow remedy or improve this situation. Let us engage not in the spirit of gender war, but rather, recovery. We are not the creators of our plight, nor can we be charged completely with remedying it. I won't say I think 'bitch' is the new anything, but I know that when it comes to love, Black is no stranger to disappointment. Hopefully, the Helena Andrews of the world will get the opportunity to experience what they want so badly.

Five For Friday: After This, There Shall Be No More

2009-12-10T23:11:00.002-05:00

I cannot believe people are still talking about Tiger Woods. I cannot believe I am still talking about Tiger Woods. I have not heard his name so much in the past 12 years since he won his first Masters' as I have since that fateful day two weeks ago. And yet, here we are. I wonder why?

I need to be done with this Tiger crap for good. I have unpacked all the valuable lessons and discussions I could take from this and I have enjoyed all the giggles it could afford me. This is the last post anyone ever needs to write about Woodsgate 2009. Let's leave it all here.

1) Welcome Back, Kiddo

In all seriousness, I tried to find a pic of Tiger with some Black folks. There aren't any.
Well I will be damned. You gotta ~~question~~ love Black folks' ability to rally among one of their own. Even when he has said "I been told y'all I ain't one of your own! The more the media jumps all over Tiger, the more I hear Black folks (especially men) becoming protective of him. That's...interesting. I think the coverage has been disgusting and disrespectful (as Woods has, apparently, been to his wife), but I am not 100% sold that it's all because of Tiger's race. He's the one of the greatest living athletes and he has been allegedly cheating on his "hot" wife with every two-dollar Shakeys waitress he could find! He kept his image clean for over a decade and now he's a wanton whore with a possible pill problem. Perhaps some of the joy folks are taking in his fall from grace has to do with his color. But I think Tom Brady or Michael Phelps would have endured much of the same foolishness were they the ones on Trashygirls.com

2) This Is What's Hot On The Green, Dog?

She's...a...um...she looks...existent.
Tiger Woods certainly has...interesting taste in women. That said, anyone surprised or disappointed that Tiger doesn't have one woman of color in his harem is a fool. My only disappointment, if you can call it that, is that a wife and mother has to endure the shame of mistresses coming out like roaches. BTW-I'm not going nuts on the girls for running their mouths. Are they wrong? Hell yeah, but there's no code of honor for women who sleep with other women's husbands. How can a crook expect someone else to follow the law? Elin gets to be a millionaire and Trashy Sue's just gonna top you off for the fun of it? Sorry, Tiger. That's not how the world works. You can't expect anyone else to respect your marriage if you don't.

3)A Word From Captain Obvious

She's in type deep thought, right? Who draws these things?
I can hardly imagine under any circumstances under which a Stanford-educated man of great success would marry a 22-year old Black domestic worker, even if she were a model. Hell, it would be hard for a Black teacher or sister with some other unglamourous job to pull that sort of "prize". This is a well known and unsettling fact that informs how many sisters see this story.

Just remember this, ladies: a man who finds his mistresses on www.trashygirls.com is no prize.

4)I Can Now Speak Cablanese, That's A Win

MsTygerLily and I have had the world's greatest kiki over the mysterious and fascinating language of Tiger Woods. I studied the Tao of Cablinasian Macking and I would like to share all of the things I learned:

-"quietly and secretively, we will always be together"
This is like some clean serial killer type game right here, but boy does it sound fun when I say it in my head in a Cablinasian accent.

-"I will wear you out soon."
Mmm, okay. Truth or solace? Honestly, Tiger was never bad looking to me. And by not bad looking, I mean...I know I'm not the only one who felt the deep shame of wondering "You think he could wear it out?" when I read that. Deep shame. Low down dirty shame shame. I ain't the only one though. But on the flip, "I will wear you out soon" sounds as sexy as "I will clean the gutters soon", doesn't it?

-Tiger refers to himself as Blasian and also implies that he's a "Black guy". This is probably more than any of us would have given him credit for. But nothing, I mean NOTHING is better than when groupie number 480 suggests that he's on the softer side and he says...wait for it...wait...for...it..."I'm bone thugs and harmon"(sic).

BWAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Clearly he was being sarcastic. But it still stayed me at my desk yesterday. I'd imagine that he Googled "rappers" and Bone was the first group to come up that he recognized. The Jonas Brothers got a better chance at being inducted in to Bone Thugs and Harmony than Tiger Woods.

From left: Fierce Bone, Miss Bone, Dandy Bone

5) America Just A F*cked Up Place, Ain't It
This is a damn shame. Most of us barely making rent and debating about how many millions are fair for the spurned and possibly violent wife of the world's first Cablinasian golfer. Personally, writing this piece was my way of copping out from addressing the Washington Post piece that was emailed to me about 50-leven times yesterday, because it made me kinda sad and a little more fearful for my future than I deserve to be. I'll engage it Monday. Shame on me for getting my jollies off on Tiger, but quietly and secretively, I doubt he's worried about my little corner of Negronia.

***And while it was quite some time ago, if you are finding yourself feeling some sort of sympathy for Tiger, take a look at these jokes he made to a White interviewer in front of a crowd of White women when he first blew up. Black man penis jokes, dude? I'm not one for bringing up old stuff, but this is new to me and pretty wack.***

Other Side of the Weight Game

2009-12-09T12:00:00.007-05:00

My struggle with my weight has been well documented here and has been a constant subject of conversation amongst my family and friends, who have been (mostly) supportive. I haven't offered any updates here in a while, but I've gotten a few questions from readers about it lately. I'm over the biggest physical hurdle. I started my serious diet and exercise overhaul in January of 2008. In these two years, I have lost almost 60 pounds. I feel distant enough from my heaviest weight to feel that I won't get there again. Exercise has been a constant part of my life for two years and I have demonstrated my ability to make healthy eating choices *most* of the time. I have medium clothes hanging in my closet for the first time since middle school.

Spring 2007: the wig was just for fun, btw. I do not endorse ratchet ass wigs.

The battle is not hardly over. It's less about the 10 or 15 pounds I'd still like to drop (I got in a tankini last summer; 2010 is begging for bikini action) than it it is about adjusting to life at a different size. When most of us think about changing our bodies, be it losing, gaining and/or surgical enhancement, we tend to think about how much greener life is on the other side of the fence. And yes, weight loss aspirants, I will tell you that my life is much greener. Some women like being big. Some embrace it out of fear or laziness or out of the ability to love themselves unconditionally. As I said before, I always hated it. I hated everything about it.

Spring 2008

I'm happy because I'm closer to where I want to be and also, because I did it the right way. I'm proud of myself. My body is not just my temple, it's my creation. My pallet where I create not just with colors and textures, but now with muscle tone and new curves. But there has been a very complicated reconciling of these new image. I can't honestly say that I always know what I see when I see myself. I'm not a small woman, I don't think I'm a very big one. My stature and build (broad shoulders, large bust) will pretty much keep me from being a little thing, which was never an aspiration of mine anyway. They do, however, keep me closer to large-ness than I'd like to be.

Fall 2008: We were too excited about those segway cops, btw. HU!

In some ways, I still think from the perspective of a big girl, while being alternately deeply afraid that people still see me as one. It's weird, because I can name a few women who are larger than me who I do not consider to be "big girls", but because I was one myself for some years, I still tend to see myself in that category. I've also had to process that not being fat is not an instant ticket to happiness or a guarantee of perceived beauty by outsiders. I get treated differently by some big women then I did in the past. It was a sisterhood that I never wanted to be a part of, but I did embrace the feelings of solidarity. I've made a few comments around larger women that got the serious side eye, not realizing that I wasn't allowed to speak as an insider any more.

I've arrived at a place where my personal feelings of beauty and comfort are...good. They are great, actually. That's not to say I'm not without insecurity. There are days when I look in the mirror and I see the same thing I saw in 2007: a big person. There are moments when I worry about how men perceive my size. That's wack, but it's the truth. There are dark moments in this fight. I don't know anyone else who has had a similar walk to mine. The folks who have been thin can't understand and the ones trying to still lose weight don't want to hear about how it isn't all it's cracked up to be.

December 2009: I rediscovered my real hair color as well. For now.

All that to say that losing weight is not just a matter of "I'll work out, I'll eat better, everything will be good." I wish someone had braced me for the changing self-image and new issues that came with my new body, but I do feel that the pros have far outweighed the cons. If this is something you are interested in doing, just know that it may bring with it more than you expected. Brace yourself, surround yourself with people who support your goals with love and give it your all! If you want it, it shall be yours!

**I want other Black women to be healthy and, moreover, happy. I'm glad I've been able to inspire and encourage my sisters (and others). I also know that my pursuit of svelteness has made a few people uncomfortable. To that, I can only say that my choice of what is right for me has always been a reflection of what I wanted from and for myself and not a commentary on anyone else. Peace to you if this is your journey, peace if it is not, **

Can't Heal The World If You Just Love The Girls

2009-12-07T11:29:00.006-05:00

Sister HotChocolateChiBK (back in Brooklyn where she belongs and I couldn't be happier) asked me last night if my fellow feminist readers ever seemed to take offense to my comments about cooking and cleaning for a man. Not long ago, a Twitter homie DM'd remarks about how hetronormative my tastes seemed to be juxtaposed with my vehement opposition to trapping people in to that very box. I guess I may seem to some like I'm sending mixed signals: the radical girl power feminista with a penchant for seemingly traditional courtship and aspirations of mommyhood.

For me, feminism has always been and will always be about the need for women to travel the world safely, freely and with the same access as men. I am free to be a cookie-baking, sweet-smelling daily wearer of dresses because that is what tradition dictates. It works in my favor that these are the things that I naturally enjoy, but the traditional constructs of womanhood (even with some of the modern revisions) are sometimes limiting even for me and OFTEN limiting for others. I want the girl in the Timbs and the khakis to do her thing as easily as I can. Do what you feel, if it's real.

*
You never know, they might have been the light that kept the streets on at home.

I had some readers, mostly male, express some surprise at some of my desires and behaviors. A few have let me know, one way or another, that they pretty much expected me to be hairy, aggressive and hateful. Now that I have revealed myself to be a delicate flower of womanhood (albeit one soaked in rum), the picture is a bit more clear. I bring domesticity, minus purity, piety, submission and boundary.

What I have received has been some resistance on has been my attitudes about certain issues that seem to place me on the same "side" as many men. For example, I expressed my opposition to using divorce as an opportunity to take revenge for emotional pain on some one's wallet. A few women looked at me like I was enemy of the state. And I was very saddened to find out how many ladies were completely unwilling to offer any understanding about female on male domestic violence because it isn't usually as potentially deadly or destructive as the reverse. I'm not hear to play "Oppression Olympics". I'm here to help my people.

My Twitter wifey told me that she thinks I'm more of a civil rights activist than a feminist, because I seem to champion the rights of everyone. I'm not title obsessed, though I do think it's important that the feminist moniker is grasped from the clutches of the anti-male and privileged middle class women who seem to have great aspirations of matching White maleness (as opposed to freeing women). Honestly, I am embarrassed from time to time at the words of other feminists who seem to have nothing but hate and anger for our male counterparts. I was lumped in to that group by quite a few people at one point, and it was especially hard to hear that criticism from real life friends.

There is a delicate line between bashing and offering constructive criticism. I've towed it and I've fallen by the wayside. I've also allowed myself to express pain and frustration on and off the 'net that has sometimes had to come out in a raw and ugly way, in order to free myself. My work as a feminist, as a Black nationalist and as a human being who wants to be a change agent is still very much in progress. However, I am a bit dismayed at some of my sisters who seem to only offer hatred, anger and bitterness for our men. Those who cannot see past our own need to be free from some of the pain we've been sullied by in order to work for what's best for the collective.

Matriarchy has never been a goal of mine, nor do I want lordship over men in my personal life. I work to process how the state of things and the disconnect between young Black men and women impacts my personal life without blaming my every romantic failing on our men. I acknowledge the places in which I have been a victim and I will never be ashamed to claim that title when it's accurate. However, I will not let victimhood define me. I will rally against the conditions that create it. And in doing that, I sometimes have to relinquish the comforts that this effed up world allows women. I can't lay my hands on a man and expect to remain unharmed. I can't pose myself as incapable of controlling my emotions and expect to be respected as an equal. I can't put a dollar amount on my love. I can't work to save women in girls if I'm not willing to work to save men and boys. I love men and boys, why wouldn't I want for their happiness, too?

If you want to do the work, sisters, we gotta DO THE WORK. We are a community at peril, we can't frame ourselves as gender at war. Men and women are different in many ways. There are yin-yang spaces. But blindly holding on to the trappings of patriarchy when they benefit us is as wise as a house slave refusing to get free because she's always had hot meals. Bend, baby, but don't break. We all seem to want love and respect, but are we really prepared to offer it in return?

Excuse me if it seems like I'm high horsing today. It's not the first time. Love me do,
Sister Toldja

*-Lovely image jacked from here

Five For Friday: Matrimony (Maybe You)

2009-12-04T10:31:00.004-05:00

An interesting question was posed on Twitter the other day: how do we make marriage more appealing to men? While a lot of sisters in their 20's and 30's are making wedding plans sans fiancee (or boyfriend or having had a date in 18 months), the menfolk seem to be working on a much slower time frame. While I do believe it is a misnomer that all the women want to be married and all the men want to be eternal bachelors, it does seem that marriage needs a bit of better PR these days. A lot of young brothers have admitted that while they DO plan to marry someday, the institution lacks appeal. Even many of us who want to be married at some point are lacking tangible examples of why or how we should do it in the first place.

We keep it light around these parts most Fridays, people. This week's FFF is in the spirit of fun, but also my commitment to my belief that Black people need to embrace marriage as a tool for community rebuilding.

1) A House Is Not A Home

You worked hard and purchased a house or condo or signed a lease on an apartment of your own. Swell! Say you have one bedroom, a living room, a bathroom, dining room and a kitchen. Not a ton of space, but a darn good amount. You buy some furniture, decorate it. Fantastic. Looking good. Not quite Architectural Digest, but certainly no schlubby college kid pigsty. You have a job, of course. Sometimes, you work late hours. You come home tired. You still spend a few nights kicking it with your friends. The weekends are filled with volunteering, taking your car to the shop, visiting family. You meant to wash those dishes, but you didn't get a chance to. You were gonna get those empty beer bottles from last Sunday's game out the living room, but you forgot. That nasty smell in the bathroom was scheduled for identification, but you didn't get around to it. Next thing you know:

Now by no means do I suggest that a wife is wholly responsible for keeping a house clean. But when you live with another person, you have someone else to do part of the work. You could get a roommate, but that's not really popping at 37, is it?

PS: They aren't roommates.
2) No, REALLY, A House Is Not A Home

How many of you have come home at the end of a long day feeling beaten and destroyed by the world, only to have an empty house waiting for you? If you wanna talk to somebody, you gotta dial the phone, but your fingers are tired. You want to eat, but then you gotta cook. And if you cook too much, because it's just you, you gotta either eat it all or wrap it up in Tupperware. If you eat up all the food, you might get fat and Tupperware lids get lost easy. So here you are: sad, lonely, fat and trying to wrap up your food with aluminum foil. How many men know to put baking soda in the refrigerator? Very few. So now, your sad fat arse is eating leftovers that taste like older leftovers. How dreadful! Now, if you had a wife, there's a good chance she'd have cooked something. And if she didn't, she'd be there to talk to you about your sad day while YOU cooked something. Or, she rubbed your back while dialed the phone to the restaurant. What punches harder? One fist or two? That was deep. Think about it and come back to me.

3) You Don't Want To Be That Guy, Do You?
While a lot of rappers from our youth have hit 40 plus with a relative level of coolness that allows them to kick it with the young folks even still, 1) they are rappers 2) you are not a rapper 3) they all married anyway. While I don't think there's a point in your life where you have to give up nightlife, there is something a little sad about that one old playa in the spot trying to give the young tenders all he got.

Look at young Lester. He's a handsome fella. Likes to hit up the bars and lounges with his buddies and dig the latest tunes. Lester wants to live the bachelor life forever. He thinks marriage is for simps. Call him Big Mike, cause he's just a playa playa.

Fast forward ten years:

Oh, Uncle Lester. Why didn't you choose a wife? All your friends are married with children. You're up in the 40/40 Club yelling out "This my soooong! Come on, baby gurrrrl!", buying amaretto sours for college chicks and all their friends.

4)Of Course, There's Always S-E-X

Hey! You live here, I live here. Why not?

Sex! It's important! You need it! You want it! People ruin they lives for it! Well, what if you had it living in your home? What if you didn't have to search the streets for some, what if you knew where your next piece was coming from? What if you had years to learn some one's body and her, yours, and all the things that make each other moan? Yes, we've gotten the memo that marriage is the death of an exciting sex life. But who said being single means you're having circus sex every night? Any happy sex life has it's low moments and requires a certain amount of effort to keep it healthy. Even with pregnancies, illnesses and family tragedies, it seems that having that good live in gives you a far greater shot at having a long and happy sex life than say...being Uncle Lester in the club. When things start failing and pills have to enter the picture, you want someone who loves you enough to work with you.

5) Teamwork Makes A Dream Work

"We did, baby." "We shole did."

Ahem. In all seriousness, wouldn't it be fantastic to have someone who is vested in your success so much as she is in her own? Someone who wants to create children with you who will carry on the legacy of both your families long after you are gone? Someone to toast with when things are good and to cry with when they are bad? Companionship? Nurturing? A special connection that no one else has?

I told my mother a few years ago that I wanted to be a wife someday and how afraid I was it wouldn't happen. She put some real game in my ear. She said if it's something I want, I have to work on being a worthy contender. I took that seriously and have worked on being a nurturer, a lover, a partner. On being healthy spirtiually, emotionally and yes, physically. I'm doing my leg work now, sometime before it's time for me to hit the aisle. What that looks like varies from person to person, but I don't think we should pitch something we aren't willing to work hard to earn.

Nothing worth having is easy and even good marriages fail. But if we focus our attention on picking partners when it's time who ultimately meet a balance of our needs and wants...who are suited to help us live both our fantasies and our dreams...then I think we have a fighting shot at creating healthy, happy partnerships and families. It might take us a few shots and a few trips down the aisle, but I believe. You may say that I'm a dreamer. But I'm not the only one.

Bonus: This song make me think of a breezy July day, cooking breakfast for my loved one in his college tee shirt and watching him sleep. I think it can be that way.

Not Even When He Cheats

2009-12-02T10:38:00.004-05:00

NOTE: The Tiger Woods scandal has inspired discussion about male on female violence. However, I would be remiss if I didn't state that the Florida police have decided that there is no proof of domestic violence in relation to Woods' accident. Instead of speculating about what actually happened between Tiger and Elin, I will address the issue as it was inspired by what may or may not have happened without specific discussion of the couple.

When the rumor mill started churning that Tiger Woods' injuries may have been caused by his wife and not his car crash, I was very disturbed to hear a number of women (and a few men) imply that he had gotten what he deserved for allegedly cheating on his wife. These were some of the same women who are, rightly so, very outspoken about violence against women. There seems to be a widespread belief that because a woman is often times less capable of inflicting injury upon her man, woman on man domestic violence is either a non-issue or a lesser issue than man on woman violence.

Here is one of my new mantras. Try it on for size: if I want to live in a world without violence against women, I cannot condone violence against men.

Advocates of oppressed groups tend to form protective shields over the people they support. Sometimes, these shields are built without logic; for example, the constant defense made on behalf of Black male celebrities who are caught doing wrong: "They just trying to hold a brother down!"

It's not always that simple.

In wanting to protect our folks, we sometimes ignore the times in which they need to be chastised or punished. Perhaps this is why other feminists seem loath to address the issue of female on male domestic violence. Women are always abused, what's the big deal when a woman strikes back? She can't really hurt him, so it's not an issue. It doesn't happen that often, does it? If he hits her back, then he's still the real abuser, right? Statistics paint a different picture:

“The most recent large-scale study of DV was conducted by Center for Disease Control and Prevention researchers and published in the American Journal of Public Health.

The study, which surveyed 11,000 men and women, found that according to both men's and women's accounts, 50 percent of the violence in their relationships was reciprocal (involving both parties).

(In those cases, the women were more likely to have been the first to strike.)

Moreover, when the violence was one-sided, both women and men said that women were the perpetrators about 70 percent of the time.”

‘DV researcher Deborah Capaldi, Ph.D., a social scientist at the Oregon Social Learning Center, told the conference that the most dangerous DV scenario for women is that of reciprocal violence, particularly if that violence is initiated by women.

The best way for many women to be safe is to not initiate violence against their male partners. "

Source

I'm sure that last line is gonna raise the 'victim blaming' flag for some. But the only reason a woman in that situation would be considered the true victim is because our society doesn't count female on male violence as REAL violence. If you don't see any other reason to end it, wouldn't the fact that it often is followed by retributive violence be enough?

Woman on male violence is not romantic affirmative action. It is destructive, abusive behavior that is a poison to all parties involved. By refusing to acknowledge that female on male abuse is domestic violence, we strip women of accountability for their actions. This is unbelievably anti-feminist, and yet often ignored by women who claim to be for the cause of women's liberation. It poses women as volatile creatures who are incapable of controlling their emotions and incapable of perpetuating abuse. It also requires men to have some sort of superior level of self-control and restraint. I find this to be extremely patriarchal in thought and practice.

My heart hurts for men who have been hurt by women who claim to love them, just as it hurts for women in the same situation. Because men are not empowered as we are to walk away from violent lovers, some of them do not register the physical abuse for what it is: ABUSE. A 5'0 woman may not be able to do much damage to a man's body, but she can certainly kill his spirit. She can also be aiming at a trigger she knew nothing about and baiting the day when he turns around and strikes back. This is not to imply that a woman is to 100% to blame if she is hit back, but rather that she does have to shoulder some responsibility if she got violent first. How can society tell a man that he has to walk away from violence or endure it without retaliating? And then cast him as a monster if he strikes back? Again, not to say at ALL that men get a pass for kicking a woman's ass after she slapped him a few times. But rather, accountability cannot be placed on one set of shoulders if two people got violent.

Fighting for equality doesn't mean that we can allow women (or people of color or gays or any marginalized group) to be unaccountable for their actions when they are directed against the dominant group. I do not focus my attention on domestic violence against women because only women should be safe from abuse; I do it because women are more likely to be the victims of severe domestic abuse. But I've come to realize that we need to be a lot more vocal when it comes to woman on man violence.

I think that most people who are silent about female on male violence would agree that a woman who pops her man in the mouth in an argument over a small spat is wrong. However, there is some absurd gray area when it comes to instances of cheating. Cheating, in the minds of some, gives a woman the right to punch, kick, assault, destroy, steal...I can't ride with that. Theoretically, this retributive abuse (yes, cheating IS abuse) seems almost fair or just.

Imagine if I cheated on my boyfriend and he retaliated by punching me in the face. Or by cutting up all of my clothes or taking my credit card to the mall. If I walked in the beauty shop sporting a hand print on my face or a cut on my lip: "Girl, Tyrone found out about Marcus and he was maaaaad! I don't know how I'm gonna fix this." "Well, damn! I told you that mess would catch up to you. Why don't you go out to Bass Pro Shop and get him a box of his favorite bait. Go home, make a nice fried chicken dinner and have the game on when he comes in." NEGATIVE. My girls would be at the house packing a bag for me and calling up they're hood cousins to come beat Tyrone's behind. My father would be on a flight to New York, carry permit and straight razor in tow.

An open handed slap, even on a woman with whom he is evenly matched or outweighed by in size, is considered to be abuse from a man. But the reverse is sweet revenge or "a hurt woman". We need to adopt the attitude that hitting is not okay, period. Men stay with violent women for a lot of the same reasons women stay with their abusers: they have children to think of, they can't afford to leave, they don't see a real problem. "She just gets mad sometimes, but I know she loves me." No one deserves to live this way. Period.

I don't think accepting violence is the price men have to pay for patriarchal privilege. Paying for dates? Sure. Holding doors? Absolutely. But by continuing to accept the notion that we get to be less accountable for our destructive behavior than men, women block our path to equality and support the anti-woman status quo.

Negronia Is Dying Slowly (But I Give Life)

2009-12-01T11:28:00.004-05:00

Today's post was scheduled to be about female on male domestic violence. However, given that today is World AIDS Day, that topic will be discussed tomorrow.

I come to you standing atop a soapbox made of Magnum cartons, preaching the gospel of wonderfully safe sex. There is a lot of talk of statistics and loss today, as there should be. I want to discuss the happier side of keeping ourselves safe from HIV/AIDS and other sexually transmitted illnesses. But first, take a moment to look at the staggering statistics about African American and AIDS at the the Kaiser Family Foundation website. I'll wait.

Here's some music to read by: OC and Buckwild "What I Represent"

This can destroy us, people. Is the Black community going to have to suffer the same tremendous losses that the gay community did to adequately address HIV/AIDS? I hope not. If those statistics aren't enough to implore you to have safe sex and safe sex only, then just put a gun in your mouth and save the rest of us the trouble. Okay, that's harsh. But you really ought to be shamed. I know I am.

You see, for years I proudly boasted that I would not have unprotected sex until I was married. People gagged at this: "You want to wait that long to see how it feels?" "What about in a committed relationship?" And I said, no, I'm gonna wait. Well, there was an instance (one time, which is all it takes to destroy your future) in which I weakened my resolve and tried sex without a condom. I was in a relationship with someone I cared about and we were both up to date on our testing. I don't blame him for begging, I blame myself for bending. I had been very proud of the fact that I had resisted unprotected sex so long and I disappointed myself greatly. It wasn't about saving something for my future husband, it was about saving myself so that I can live to have one. It was about the fact that I do not have any of intention of getting pregnant until I'm married. This was a promise I had made to myself and I broke it to please a man. I won't be the same fool again.

Safe sex can be fun. There are tons of condoms and other products on the market that you can buy to enjoy with your partner. One of the biggest misnomers about condoms is that they feel "unnatural" and you can't experience heightened pleasure while wearing one. You know what's "unnatural"? Having to take AZT or some other HIV meds that ravage your body.

There are loads of condoms on the market now that are designed to create a more natural feeling. They sometimes cost more than the standard gas station ones, but they cost a lot less than $2000 a month in co-pays on HIV meds. One of the best- Trojan's Magnum Thins:

Regarding size, please don't be Bagging Sagging Barry trying to wear a larger condom than you need. The average condom is designed to fit designed to fit erections of up to 7.25 inches in length, 1.375 inches in diameter. Magnums are made to fit 8 inches of length and 1.5 inches in diameter. There is also the Magnum XL, which is 30% larger than the standard Trojan condom. If she's sleeping with you, she's gonna know the truth anyway. While there is a special gleam in a woman's eye when she sees the gold wrapper, Magnums don't come with a stroke. Remember that.

If you are a bells and whistles person, you may enjoy Trojan's Ecstasy line. The condoms are very thin and shaped to create all sorts of 'oohs' and 'ahhs'. The line includes Ultra Ribbed (above), Her Pleasure and Magnums. Something for everyone.

If you find that condoms conflict with you or your partner's natural wetness, then use a water-based lubricant. You don't have to go to a sex shop, most drugstores are beginning to carry a wider variety of lube, which will provide all the splash waterfalls you need without affecting the effectiveness of your condoms. A great one is Wet Platinum.

The name is spot on. You know how Negroes love the platinum.

You can test the effectiveness of a lubricant in your hand before buying it. Pour a couple drops on the tips of your fingers and rub them together. If your skin absorbs it like lotion, it's no good. If it survives the friction from your fingers, it will likely do the same in other places. Merry Christmas, from my house to yours.

If you find that condoms are putting such a damper on your sex life, this speaks less about latex than it does your maturity and creativity and/or that of your partner. In an ideal world, we could frolic about without a jimmy hat. But that ain't the case. Take your lover to a sex shop, get some rings and things and do whatever it is you need to do to spice up your sex life. Read a book about about it. And if you can't get that man or woman to embrace the joys of strapped up sex, find one who will.

We have a lot of people who don't love themselves and it's virtually impossible to impress the importance of self-love in a blog entry. That is something I've spent years working on in myself and others. In the intrest of immediacy, tell that condom-free friend of yours that if they love sex so much, then they can't think only about today's sex. Wrap it up today so you can be here to bone tommorrow.

Trouble In Cablasia

2009-11-30T00:29:00.003-05:00

I disengaged from Tiger Woods approximately three days after he won his first Masters in 1997. One of my teachers showed us the episode of Oprah in which he dropped the "cablinasian" bomb in response to the attention he was getting as a Black golfer. Even as a child, I found it odd that it wasn't enough for him to say "My dad's Black, mom's Asian. I'm Black and Asian." Tiger had to let us know he had White in him too.

The day it all ended: "I'm 1/4 Black, 17% Asian, 3 pars Irish, 2 tablespoons Indian and a pinch of DeBarge."

I allow Tiger the space to define himself as a multiracial man as opposed to a Black one. It's his right (though I believe it is more of a function of his desire to distance himself from Blackness than it is to be accurate in describing his heritage.) As a result, he's never been a "brother" in my mind. I still appreciate that he's a person of color who broke a lot of racial barriers in golf, though I winced every time he was subject to blatant racism (the Fuzzy Zoeller comment, the reporter who said he should be lynched) and did that turn the other cheek tap dance. Perhaps 'cause he has White in him, he didn't take it personally.

When Tiger married a blond ~~nanny~~ au pair/model, I wasn't surprised. We knew he wasn't bringing home no sisters. I didn't expect him to find a fellow mixed race woman and I didn't see him finding an Asian woman like his mother either. It was par for the course (HUZZAH). I didn't have any comment on his marriage until this weekends events put the relatively low-key couple in the spotlight. Allegedly, Tiger has been caught creeping. His wife delivered some revenge with her hands and, of all things, a golf club. Tiger hopped in his car and attempted to drive away, but crashed outside of the house. Initial reports stated that he had facial lacerations because of the crash and that his wife was trying to free him from the Escalade that he had run into a fire hydrant with the golf clubs. As you can imagine, it only took ~~CNN~~ TMZ about 15 minutes to debunk that unfortunate attempt at spin doctoring.

If the story is as it appears, I want to give Woods credit from trying to walk away from the fight. Whatever he did or didn't do with another woman, he did the right thing by attempting to get away from his wife when she started throwing blows. It's a hard thing to do, but it's what a man has to do in a society that ultimately condones and sometimes encourages violent retribution from spurned women. I have a huge problem with this and I will get in to that later this week.

Reading the initial reactions to the Woods' incident on Twitter made my head hurt. It seems that a good number of men (and a few women) pretty much think that any woman who marries a rich or famous man is a gold digger. Not the first time I've heard that at all. Some also implied that because Elin is married to THE Tiger Woods, she should just sit back and turn a blind eye to infidelity. I guess being a millionaire by marriage strips you of the right to be hurt by your husband's actions. There also seems to be a lot of "that's what he gets" from women and a lot of "that b*tch is nuts" from the men. How about "he shouldn't have cheated and she shouldn't have hit him"? Or "Fame doesn't entitle one to cheating and cheating doesn't entitle one to violent revenge?" Maybe that doesn't fit in 140 characters.

There's been a lot of discussion in the blogosphere about famous men and cheating, and I don't feel compelled to add much else to a subject that relates to 0.0002% of the population. I'll just say that I don't believe that a man's status or net worth gives him any greater right to commit infidelity than anyone else. Most people would be very hurt by cheating, even if their husband can buy them "a house on a finger" (which Tiger stated he plans to do in the wake of this foolishness). For all you fellas on the gold-digger witch hunt ~~despite the fact that most of you lack gold for digging~~, I'd be leery of the woman who DIDN'T care when you cheated.

The image of the violent, angry wife is often associated with Black women, but it was Tiger's stereotypical blond trophy wife who bloodied his face and ran up on him with a golf club. In fact, Woods himself revealed that he bought in to that stereotype when he told a friend that his wife had "gone ghetto" on him.

Oh. The. Irony.

There is a SMALL (but loud) group of Black men that seems to believe that White women are a safe haven from the loud, angry, emasculating Black woman. That White girls will lay down, submit and put up with foolishness a man offers them. If any good can come from this incident, I hope it's the the death of that notion which is incredibly offensive to both Black and White women. I know plenty of Black and "ghetto" girls who would have handled that situation very differently than Mrs. Woods. I also know that she's not hardly the first White woman to beat her man's butt.

Do I think Tiger married his wife BECAUSE she was White? I highly doubt it. I would, however, place a considerable bet that non-White women were not a consideration for him when he was shopping for a woman. I know that he didn't expect what he got on Saturday and the fact that he called it going "ghetto" just puts a sour taste in my mouth. Tiger put a very real distance between himself and the Black community years ago and to hear him describe such negative behavior using a stereotype associated with Black life isn't surprising so much as it is simply unfortunate.

Elin Woods didn't go "ghetto" on her husband; she went human, she went woman, she went wrong*. Brothers and everyone else needs to understand that while there are some inherent differences between Black and White women, women of all races are capable of flipping the f*ck out when hurt. If you are looking for a doormat, then something is wrong with YOU and you'd do Black and White ladies a favor by leaving us alone until you become a real man who can deal with a real woman. Not real meaning 'gangsta', real meaning human, having standards and being susceptible to pain.

I hope the Woods family has a speedy path to healing, be it in couples counselling or in divorce court. I also hope that Tiger someday gains a level of awareness of the people with whom he shares "25%" of his blood and stops using the same racist mentalities that others have used to shame us. Confidence in that happening, however, is pretty low.

Tomorrow: When a man beats up a woman's heart, does she have the right to beat up his face?

*-Yes, I said it. WRONG. Come back tomorrow for an explanation.

I Could Do It Better

2009-11-23T11:17:00.005-05:00

I've heard the same words from both men and women lately: "I hate dating!" Meeting new people, trying to decide what role they are auditioning for in your life. Hurting feelings. Getting your feelings (or if you are like me, your pride) hurt. Changing your mind. Wasting time. "Is this you're real phone number? Are you gonna call like you said you was?"

I'll wager that a couple of these fellas didn't always get the answer they were looking for. It takes a special sister to share her Luster's Pink Oil Lotion with a man.

Don't get me wrong, I'm a fan of the butterfly feeling you get when you connect when you meet a new person. The "anticipation of what's to come" my girl Lauren described last week. That part is awesome. But all the rubbish and time wasting and people of ill repute you have to deal with in the pursuit is just dreadful. I resent that the human need for companionship brings people in to my life who have no business even knowing I exist. Dating feels like a stressful, low paying job sometimes. And just when you feel like you're gonna quit for good, you get some crazy bonus check that's just enough to keep you happy until you're not.

I've got more terrible analogies than Little Wayne. I can keep going all day like a clock. Get it? All day like a clock. Tick tock. Color Me Badd.

I'm not interested in most of the men I meet. I guess it's because we tend to be attracted to what we are missing in our own lives, I draw in some fellas who are without any of the things I like most about myself and seek to find in others. When it comes to the ones I may fancy more, some of the possible connections are lost to 'the game'- the dance we somehow find ourselves obligated to do. I'm all for decorum, but there just seems to be too much...foolishness. Scripting text messages with the help of friends. Making sure you seem open, but not desperate. Available, but not needy. Not revealing too much about what you want from the future, for fear he'll ASSume you want to "cuff" him and steal his football watching time and his need to break off a hundred, thousand, trillion girls before he gets married.

And then, of course, there are the perpetual time wasters. I'm from the Ghostface school of thought when it comes to potential lovers: "F*ck negotiating/Is you with me? Is you aint?" Straight and to the point. Do you like me? Circle 'yes' or 'no'. And if you are still trying to figure that out, can there be some clarity in how you plan to manage that? I'm all for giving a little chase, but I'm not one for games. Lessen' it's Strip Uno. Now that's a game I can stand behind.

If you play your cards right...

To be frank, I think I'd be better at the boy part. If I could approach guys and mack em down a little bit, the world would be a better place. And I'd come up with something better than "Whatup brown skin? You looking nice today. Save my number in your phone if you want to conversate.*" Real talk, I think I could court the sh*t out of somebody. I'd be good at managing the initial contact and planning dates and all of that. That's not the feminist in me talking, it's just how my instincts work. The feminist in me says "Well, go on and try it." But the part of me who can differentiates reality from what I'd like the world to be is like "Don't be dumb."

Ghandi said be the change you want to see in the world. Ghandi, however, wasn't dating educated Black men in their 20's and 30's. So what does he know?

I know the game and the things to do, for the most part, when it comes to negotiating the inital stages of courtship. Yes, my role looks different than that of the man in question. I don't wholly resent gender roles, I think acknowledging our differences and being yin-to-yang works. But I just don't find many fellas of my generation playing the game the way I'd like to see it played and I think I'd just be better doing the aggressive part. I do really want to flex my macking skills on a young bachelor, if only to prove that I can. I suppose I am just odd like that. It's on the list of things I'd like to do just to say "Yes, I can". This list also includes winning a fight (I've never been in one, but I feel I need to just whup one person's tail before they put me in the ground" and performing in a drag or burlesque show. Don't judge me. I'm...special. Not the average kind that would fall for any line that sounds good.

Two shoutouts today, they should let me come to the family reunion. I'll bring the bread pudding**.

Eh, except for I just don't think I should have to be aggressive with a man. I gotta carry these two shoulder killers around and fuss over my hair, I shouldn't have to do all the romantic work....right? I don't really have a strong thesis behind all of this, my lovelies. This is just my dispatch from the battlefield of love. I'm unpacking some frustrations and I love you for listening. Another (occasional) blogger released some of his today and I found them to be very valid. Read for yourself:"R-E-S-P-E-C-T My Mind".

*-Actual "game" I have been subject to. Get thee to some educated brothers STAT.
**-I'm selling it for the holidays! Holler at me, NYC area: breadpudding@thebeautifulstruggler.com

Five For Friday: My Guys

2009-11-20T11:26:00.003-05:00

Have you checked out my Facebook page yet? I just added a gang of new pics!

It's the weekend, yes! Ow! Bam! I don't have much planned for the weekend, but next week is going to be pure debauchery and folly in celebration of two days off of work. Yes, yes and more yes. The crew is volunteering at a local church to help feed the hungry as well. We are good people at heart.

Five For Friday time. Everyone talks about the types of men and women to avoid. But what about the sorts of folks you WANT to date? It's not the same for everyone, and it shouldn't be. These are my five flavors of preference at this particular moment. It may change in an hour. It's all in fun.

1) The Subversive Militant Buppie

"Alright, I gotta go. Mr. Charlie is looking. All power to the people."

Black power today isn't what it was 40 years ago. We can't all be Huey and Angela; some of us have to be working inside the master's house using his tools to dismantle it. Swoon worthy is the brother who can go deal with them other folks in their spaces, get the power and the paper and bring it back to the people. I have been thrown off my square a few times after looking at a brother in a suit and assuming him to be the happy assimilationist. Until he opens his mouth and can out quote me on Fanon and Malcolm. These brothers usually partake in some extracurricular activities that would blow their supervisors minds. They are comfortable and confident on the golf course with the Senior VPs as they are in the back room of a nag champa scented bookstore talking about ways to save our youth. Fluidity is sexy.
Famous Examples: Barack Obama (don't sleep), Hill Harper, Van Jones

2) The (Moderately) Humble Super Intellectual

These breed of man can be extremely rare. When people realize how smart they are, they can be a bit annoying or even bullying about it (see: a particularly adorable and otherwise charming blogger we all know and love). I'm admittedly superficial. I'm not usually giving a man I don't find to be physically attractive the time of romantic day. BUT a super-smart man is perhaps the only one who break down that very reasonable mandate. A man who has a mind that's so sharp that you aspire to his ability to think can be dangerously sexy. Unless he looks like a troll, then I just want to be his very good friend. *Kanye shrug* I haven't met many men like this, but if you see one, point him out.
Famous Examples: Cornell West, Dumi Lewis, a certain Howard professor we all know and swooned a little bit about (in a wholesome way!)

3)Clarence So Fine*

I ain't never scared.

I'm not totally innocent, I like some of the "bad boys" too. I have a little thing for cocky bastards, though I'm wise enough not to actually waste too much time on them. I can't help it. I don't see many people as being bigger or better than myself. It's not an arrogance thing so much as it is a way of protecting myself from being needlessly intimidated by others. I fancy that little arrogant swagger a lot of guys have, I find it funny. And I take great pleasure in breaking down a man's bravado. You think you bad? You ain't bad. I'm bad. Matter fact, I'm worse. Now take off your cool and dance ~~with~~for me.
Famous Examples: Will Smith on "The Fresh Prince of Bell Air"

4) The Sensitive Artist

Why yes, I will listen to you talk about feminism and no, my penis won't fall off.

He listens to Coltrane. He reads Alice Walker. He loves and cherishes the Black woman. He has a degree and he manages to support himself without selling incense on the street. DCWIO. You are not "for the people" walking around without health insurance or bouncing from goddesses couch to goddesses couch. But for all the misguided "I'm against the establishment because I don't pay taxes" brothers, we have some awesome, beautiful and talented boho fellas amongst us. Cue Me'Shell's "Dread Loc" and let's talk about reparations and blue colors. And I can cook tofu and tempeh for them without hearing about how Black folks useta survive on swine. These guys tend to understand my mission a lot more than most. Unfortunately, they don't always understand or appreciate the party and bullsh!t that I also believe in.
Famous Examples: Common, Larenz Tate in Love Jones (minus the moderately contrived spoken word, he gets a pass because it was 1997.)

5)The Funny Guy

If you can keep me laughing, you can keep me around for at least a little while. I can't stand a guy with no sense of humor. Or, worse, one who thinks he's really clever and witty, but it's batting zero on jokes. My friends and I spend an absurd about of time being humorous and if you can't keep up with us, you probably shouldn't be trying to kick it to me, real talk. To be truly funny means you're rather smart. That's a good percentage of the virtues I need to fall in love with ya, boy. That is, unless you look like a troll.
Famous Examples: Chris Rock, Will Smith on Fresh Prince of Bel-Aire (hmmm, maybe he's my dream man?)

Have a great weekend!
ST

*-I KNOW I am not the only one who remembers the episode of Amen when Bumper Robinson spun around and introduced himself as "Clarence....So Fine". Please tell me I'm not.

Groupie Lovers

2009-11-19T14:21:00.007-05:00

I love me some Kid Cudi. I think he is the bees' knees. Beyond him being super cute, his music speaks to me in a lot of ways; it seems that we have travelled some of the same more uncomfortable and sometimes lonely territory in our young lives. Like most male rappers, he's guilty of using some very sexist language and I do take issue with that. But that's not the reason for the season today, folks. I want to use Cudi to illustrate something I find wack (and I'm using you with love, Scott. You know I'd never hurt you or do you wrong).

"Make me say my, my, my, my, my/my, my, my, my, my/my, my/my, my"

When I first heard Cudi talk about the girls who threw him shade, I didn't believe him. Now, unless his real-life persona is completely antithetical to who he is on wax, I thought it was a little unbelievable that women didn't like him. He's cute, creative and witty. Had we been living in Brooklyn at the same time, I'd have been on his skinny jean clad butt like white on rice. But he probably wouldn't have likeded me back. And herein lies if not a "problem", a "something worth considering." I'm not one in support of social hierarchies. I think they are wack and best left to high school students. I do, however, seem to think that there is a level of awareness folks need to have about their "lane". If for no other reason but to save themselves some embarrassment, it may behoove you to have some concept of how the outside world views you.

Self-awareness is harder than math. Unless you are good at math (cough, you nerd, cough). Then it's harder than whatever you are bad at doing. If you are good at math, then I would assume it's harder than being cool or hip. DIE MATH DIE.

If HE had been teaching when I was a kid, I'd have learned something.

Anyway, yes, self-awareness is one hurdle; awareness of others' perception of you is even more challenging. And it seems like a lot of fellas lack awareness of how sisters (or other brothers) see them and how it relates to who they can/cannot pull romantically. Back to Kid Cudi. Cause it's always back to Kid Cudi with me. He makes me think of that artsy nerdy boy who was in all the ciphers after school (thowback Chi-town, Whitney Young, State and Madison, where you at?). He was cool with the artsy nerdy chicks, but wanted to date the "hot girls" like all the other dudes did. Sometimes opposites attract, sometimes not. And I've seen a more than a few guys just get really angry with women who are seemingly out of their lane for not liking them. I suppose this is the case for a lot of rappers, which is why we end up with otherwise likable and intelligent guys spitting lyrics like "Back in Shaker, bitches used to play me to the left/now I take the ones I want/and give my n*ggas what is left".

It's not just rappers. It's bankers, med students, lawyers, writers...I call it "Mike Jones Syndrome". This is a world driven by capitalism and a society that judges men on what they own. You ain't new here, so don't act like it. Back then, they didn't want you. Now you think you hot, they all on you. With improved status comes more women. Unfortunately, years of being "ignored" by the women they felt should have liked them creates some problems. Now we got a young doctor who assumes that every pretty woman he meets wants a baby by him so she can be a thousandaire. The writer who feels that all the girls in the club are pressing him because he was featured in The Source. The small biz owner who assumes that any girl who asks what he does for a living and where he went to school is trying to figure out how he figures in her plans to own 5 Louis bags by 2012.

Yes, your good job may be helping you get more women, but it may not be for the reasons you believe. There is often an increased confidence in a man who feels good about his station in the world. Confidence is appealing and hence, a brother may radiate more sex appeal when he's got his fancy degree than he did when he was feeling like a duck in undergrad. That's kinda what you should want to happen.

There are certainly some gold digging women in the world. And some women who aspire to barter their looks for a life of comfort with a successful man. But there are also fellas who choose to surround themselves with these girls and then get mad as hell when they realize they are being set up for the okey doke. Why are you kicking it tough with MySpace models who consider All Star Weekend to be a national holiday if you don't want groupie love? You weren't sold dreams, you got exactly what you paid for. If you don't like it, close your tab and find another woman to kick it with.

You can tell yourself they got the butt shots so they could be more comfortable sitting in a church pew, but that's probably not it.

Perhaps its residual insecurity from days past that keeps some of these fellas from trying to find women who are their intellectual peers or their professional equal. Perhaps it's a feeling that a successful man should have groupies. Perhaps some of y'all just have shallow taste in women. And perhaps others just don't understand your lane (past or present). But for some strange reason, it seems like a lot of nerdy creative brothers, the super intellectuals and the big ballers are all enamoured by this one sort of girl who represents something you think you should have: the chick everyone wants and can't have. And at the end, this creates losses for all of us.

It's not my job to define manhood, but I am wise enough to know that the woman you can pull and the O's on your check should not be a factor in doing so. A lot of you brothers are selling yourselves short trying to sell yourselves high and the good sisters are annoyed. No shade to the internet pinup girls; some of them are all around dope, intelligent women on their own, but if that's what you are looking for in a woman...you taking a gamble. I hate to act like the Obamas are the only example of a dope union. But real talk, if Barack had waited for the Jet Beauty of the Week to write him back instead of getting at the pretty ass girl he worked UNDER, we might not know his name today.

I've never seen Kanye and Amber look this happy, I'm just saying.

Love's Gonna Get Us

2009-11-18T13:00:00.000-05:00

As we are a pop-culture obsessed society, our music of sway on how we view ourselves and how we behave. Well, some of us. A few of your favorite sanging cousins have penned odes to the independent woman doing it for herself. And your cousins in the streets have become very loud and proud about their ability to ~~charge~~ their own bags and pumps without a man's help. Ne-Yo calls her "Miss Independent", but I thought we already had a name for the woman who's self-sufficient: "an adult". I was honestly perplexed when this song and the subsequent odes to the woman paying her own way came out. If you are a single adult woman living on her own without parental support, how else would your bills get paid? I am well aware that there are some women who rely on handouts from men. But that's hardly the norm. So why celebrate something so...ordinary?

Yes, I work. These big collar shirts don't buy themselves.

It's almost offensive. It seems like there is an implication that while the indie misses are stacking for themselves, the rest of the women are just waiting for Captain Save A Hoe to come upgrade them. Or, perhaps it's just a declaration of a man no longer interested in being a breadwinner for a woman. Hey, maybe he wants to build generational wealth, which is fair. But I still find something troubling about these cuts and, more importantly, the attitude that they inspire in listeners.

"I love her cause she got her own". Not 'cause she's intelligent, thoughtful, funny, loving, compassionate. But because she has things. Fancy things that she bought for herself. Women have been guilty of loving ( men because they had things for centuries. Perhaps it's payback time? I don't rock with consummate materialism. Now I like to have nice things just like you. But I'm from Brokeland, and certain things you just don't do. And basing ones self-esteem or assessment of others based on their ability to acquire material goods is one of 'em.

Maybe he just wants her to have nice purses so he can borrow them.

On one hand, I see a win in women being proud to earn and make big purchases for themselves without a man's help. Never would I advocate waiting for someone else to do it for you. But on the flip side, I am not comfortable with the idea of being judged by potential suitors for my 'baller status' (or lack thereof, I should say). Part of that has to do with the fact that I'm an artsy, struggling creative type. I work in the hood, for the hood. I feel confident that my payday is coming, but it's not gonna come for me on the same time frame the sister with the MBA is gonna get hers. Should I be waiting to deal with my fellow middle-class aspirants until I get a few more 0's on my bank balance?

The other frustration has to deal with my unwillingness to deal with that same unfortunate strain we have placed on our menfolk with our financial expectations. I see far too many brothers who just become nasty and angry because they feel that they are somehow inadequate because they aren't balling out of control. Women already have to deal with amount of value placed upon our looks. Now we gotta be balling too? Your boy Hov seems to know a lot more about women's brands than I do. I had a man ask me what brand my shoes were once. This is not a world in which I want to live, friends.

We'd all prefer to be judged by the things we are good at. I am not good at being rich or having a big butt, at this point. So I hope I am not simply projecting my perceived inadequacies via my frustrations with the independent woman. But I feel that men and women are piling on these unreasonable expectations for our lovers and that a lot of us are coming up short because, well, Jay-Z and Beyonce are already married.

A little off-topic, but not quite:

Vote for The Socialite!

2009-11-18T12:40:00.002-05:00

Please take the time to vote for our sister, The Socialite of Keeping Up With The Huxtables, to win the Sam-E "Good Mood Gig"! She is a great girl, a dear friend of mine and very committed to helping people live their best lives!

CLICK HERE TO VOTE!

From The Crates: Chante's Got A Man, But Lacks Humility

2009-11-17T11:12:00.007-05:00

(Taking a mental health day, for obvious reasons. Hope you can get a chuckle from one of my very firsts posts, which appeared here a few years ago. Talk soon. Save the babies-ST)

Chante's got a man...

...and that's a good thing, cause I don't how the hell she could keep any homegirls talking like this.

Chante Moore is one of my favorite singers; not in terms of the number of records she's made that I like, but rather her voice. I hated it when she tried to dumb her sound down with that horrible Jermaine Dupri-produced "Straight Up". Moore has one of the best voices of her genration, in my opinion. Her stuff with her hubby, Kenny Latimore is cool and classy. And they are really cute together. Or, at least in promo pics, 'cause I don't really know them like that.

Anyway, "Chante's Got A Man", which was a hit in 1999 is one of my favorite songs by Moore.¹ However, these are the cruelest lyrics spoke to a woman short of "B!tch Betta Have My Money". Listen to how Moore chooses to console a friend who is less lucky in love than she:

Chante's got a man at home
And he's sure good to me

Homegirl: That's great, Te' Te'. I knew you would find someone. But we gotta talk. Me and Mike are having some serious problems. You see, he's never there. Always sneaking out the house. And when he is home, he beats the shit out of me. All men are all the same, I'll never find anyone better. What should I do?

I'm sorry that your man ain't home
I'm sorry that yours left you alone
It's such a shame your man is playing games

Homegirl: Yeah, this is bad. I don't know what to.......

And I heard you say that men are all the same
No, no, no
It's not the truth girl
Cause I got proof girl
Oh I got proof girl
I got a man at home

Homegirl: Well, I'm sure your man is just great. I mean, you are the 'Queen of the Quiet Storm' and you're so pretty. I didn't doubt you'd find 'the one'. Meanwhile, I got all these bruises and shit. What should I use to keep them from scarring....

Chante's got a man at home
It hurts me your man's leaving you all alone
I can't help it that your baby's bad
Creeping out, cheating on ya, beating on ya
Chante's got a man at home
And he's sure good to me

Homegirl:(Stunned silence)....You don't know much about being sensitive, do you?

Now why'd you let him beat you down
No, no, what's up with that
There's good men around
Don't you know how beautiful you are inside girl
And don't you let nobody go and steal your pride

Homegirl: Pride? Oh, I think I lost that when you just did that little rhyme about my man beatin' and cheatin' on me, thanks.

I once was where you are
Thought men were all the same
But I never gave up hope......
He always treats me right, we never fight
He sends me flowers and wines and dines me
Took me home to meet his momma
How he loves me

HG: *Silently plotting on how she can f*ck Chante's man*

Now, in the video, the song ends with Chante getting a call from her dreamboat and depating her homegirls' to go off with him as the lonely women cheer her on. But on the album, the singer answers the phone thinking it's her man....only to find that it is another woman telling Chante about her perfect man's infidelity with her. The latter makes more sense to me, because she had it coming for all that shit she was talking. Encouraging, my ass. She was gloating. Then, "I guess if it can happen to you, it can happen to me....." That's what you get!

Why, yes, I do love the 1990s.
Sister Toldja

¹- You may be wondering why I chose to break down a song from 1999 instead of, say, 2006. 'Cause, 'fuck 2006' is why. 2006 sucks. You wan't me to do a current song? Okay- here's "Upgrade U" by Beyonce feat. Jay-Z:

I hear you be the block
But I'm the lights that keep the streets on

The f*ck? Oh no, she's been watching the Def Poetry Jam, hasn't she?

Notice you the type that like to keep them on a
Leash though
I'm known to walk alone
But I'm alone for a reason
Sending me a drink ain't appeasing

Did she just rhyme "though", "alone" and "appeasing? WTF?

Partner Let me upgrade you
Audemars Piguet you
Switch your neck ties to purple labels
Upgrade you

Bronson Pinchot what? OK, I see consummate materialism isn't just for rappers anymore.

I can do for you what Martin did for the people
Ran by the men but the women keep the tempo

What did she just say? She's talking about Martin Lawrence, right? WHAT? TURN THIS SH!T OFF!!!!!

Am I Really My Sister's Keeper II: Girl, Please!

2009-11-16T12:37:00.005-05:00

Good tidings to you all! I hope your weekend was dope. I celebrated the birth of two of my best friends in the world, Sister Webby and Sir Fabulous Himself. I ~~acted a complete fool~~ had a quiet, classy evening with the star of The Lauren Show. All was well in my corner of the world. As promised, here's another dose of sisterly love. Embrace it.

1)"He Don't Like You, He Won't Like You And I'm Starting Not To Like You Either"

Even I read the damn book. Come on, people.

When the "He's Just Not That In To You" phenomenon hit around 2004, it seemed to be a massive common-sense wake up call for women across the country. Could it be that men who don't call us, don't treat us with any sort of regard and don't spend time with us...don't want to be ours forever and ever? *GASP* Who'd have thunk it?

In all seriousness, I know from experience that letting go of your feelings for someone who don't want you back is much easier said than done. And when this is a person with whom you aren't actually spending much time, it becomes ridiculously easy to paint a perfect and unrealistic portrait of him in your head. You don't know how rude he is to waitstaff, because you don't go out. You don't know how gross his refrigerator is because you've never seen his kitchen. You don't know that he hasn't read anything more enlightening than a King magazine and the back of the NBA Live box since he graduated college because he doesn't really talk to you.
...or maybe he's your ex or your best friend and you know him like the back of your hand. Whatever the case may be, if he's not calling you or spending time with you, he probably doesn't like you. If he broke up with you and is seeing someone else, this is another clue that he's probably not wondering how your first name sounds with his last.

So, for the love of Ray J, stop making your friends listen to you spend hours and hours trying to rationalize how and why he does, in fact, need you in his life and secretly loves you. Stop begging for clarity and closure when you and I both know that's code for "one last chance to show you how awesome I am so you can please, please love me." You get a respectable amount of grieving and processing time (which is based on how long you were together, what the relationship entailed). I will gladly drink wine and weep with you and talk about how hard it is to find a good mate. But if you are going to make some fella who wants no parts of you to be the center of your life, then don't call me to talk about it.

There comes a point when it isn't his fault anymore, it's yours. You are an adult. You make choices. Choose your own happiness, choose your own piece. You can seduce someone, but you can't make them stay forever. You can entice, but you can't force love. If you need a therapist or a counselor to help you get past these issues, then by all means, make the call.

2) And Why You Letting Her Do That?
Any friend who allows you to plot and scheme and mourn over a man who treated you like crap and set you out on the curb isn't a friend. They are an enabler and enablers are the true villains of happiness. For every fool hearted fool, there's at least one person right there hyping them on.

"Yeah, girl! I think Jay and Alicia would LOVE it if you joined them on stage! Of course they know who you are!"

And so often, it seems that girlfriends are the main ones encouraging abhorrent, self-destructive behavior. Ask yourself, homegirl...why is that? Are we such believers in love that we are willing to help set our friends up for failure in search of it? Or are we just too cowardly to tell our sisters the truth when they need to hear it most?

"I love you sis. However, given that he just married your brother, I can safely say that I don't think you and Raheem are gonna work out."

I am trying to embrace my sisters with what Tricia Rose calls "transformational love".It's the hardest love around, because it doesn't always feel good being the receiver or the giver. We have a natural desire to protect people feelings and to want to make them feel good. Well, telling someone what they need to hear or what you feel doesn't always allow for the warm fuzzies. Hurt as it may, I'd rather sting in the short term than be bruised in the future.

Real talk, I've been the enabler. I've tried to make a man who probably found me to be as useful as a Pet Rock believe I was the best thing on two legs. I'm still single which I am sure says as much about me as it does...oh, who are we kidding? I'm the bomb and I'm single because no one is good enough for me. But even with that, I'm trying to get to a place where I can own my romantic failings AND help my girls through theirs. It's gonna hurt, but I'm sure we can all get to the good part if we are brave enough to work for it.

Here's a little musical inspiration for the start of the week:

Peace always,
ST

Am I My Really My Sisters' Keeper? Pt. 1

2009-11-11T11:03:00.010-05:00

The good thing about continuing to be on this Earth another day is the opportunity to continue learning and growing. Those are things I try to do and things that I sometimes do in spite of myself. I've recently learned, or perhaps been reminded, that continual criticism of others without honest self-analysis isn't gonna get you far. Just something to think about, my friends.

A big piece of my writing and my public war, as you know, is men: misogyny, sexism, patriarchy, privilege. Some of y'all think I have armpit hair down to my knees, I'm sure. And I feel that my criticisms and issues as they relate to gender are valid. That's why I have them. However, as I unpack the issues I have with members of the opposite sex as they relate to love and romance, I must also look at the womenfolks and what we are doing wrong (in both our actions AND our criticisms).

A lot of people settle for being "right". They feel like winning an argument is a victory. I don't want to be America's Next Top Right Person. What's the sense in that? We pat ourselves on the back for recognizing racism and sexism that our racial or gender counterparts don't see. Okay, but now what? The point isn't to be the rightest person, but to change the world...right? Well, sometimes we gotta change ourselves too. No matter how marginalized or oppressed we are, we are still human flawed and sometimes just dead wrong.

Self-reflection is hard. Self-awareness is hard. Criticism of others? Eh, not so much. We can pile up complaints on other folks all day long without breaking a sweat, present company included. Now, constructive criticism isn't always easy; it requires a delicate convergence of emotion and fairness, honesty and thoughtfulness AND (if delivered properly) sensitivity.

How many of us are truly Tresevanty? Tell the truth, shame the devil.

That said, I am seeing some behavior in my sistren and myself that I find to be detrimental to our alleged goal of creating happy, loving relationships with men. Now, it's hard to be yet another voice telling women "Love: you are doing it wrong". There's millions of dollars grossed yearly thanks to the belief that women need to be reading and studying and obsessing over how to get a man, how to be ready to get a man, how to keep a man, how to sleep with a man. Women are telling us how. Men are telling us how.

I'm just not even gonna say anything.

I don't need to revisit the long repeated criticisms found in magazines and books about not learning to love ourselves first or trying to fix a "no-good" man. I have some other observations that are weakening not only our arguments about the things that men do wrong, but our ability to be the stand-out lovers and sisters we all seem to think we are. These are a couple of things I have peeped from sisters on the Twitter and in the real-life streets lately that I want to call out. A few today, a few more in the future.

1)It's Not Her. It's That You Are Not Her
Say I like a man named Marcus. We used to date, but he moved on and I didn't. Torch carrying game proper. Say Marcus begins dating a stunning model who I feel is prettier than me. I tell everyone who will listen how superficial he is. Now, say that Marcus instead starts dating a frumpy, no-style schlub. Now everyone has to hear about how wack she is and how I don't get what he sees in her. Sense, this does not make and how many times have we heard the SAME woman make these two very different complaints? You can substitute complexion, body type, socio-economic class for the things listed above as well. At the end of the day, the greatest criticism we have of our desired one's chosen one is the fact that they are not us. Do men do it? Absolutely. But I hear women doing this far more often: shaming men for being shallow in one breath, and then complaining about guys choosing "ugly" women in the next.

2) What Are We Asking For Again?
One of the biggest criticisms of the various feminist movements throughout time: women who seem to be chasing not equality, but male privilege. Wanting not balance, but the same access to be awful and oppressive to others. I, again, defer to Paolo Frere's theories on this. Well, even amongst decidedly "not" feminist women, there is a sentiment that condones dogging men out because it's been done to us. I don't mean direct retaliation against former lovers (which could actually be fair or even productive, depending on the cleverness of the vindictive woman). I'm talking about "Girl, I treat these men like they treat us. Okaaaay?"

Again...no comment.

Two can play the game, but we aren't really adding more wins to the overall cause. There's a big difference between being a strategic and choosy dater as opposed to a user and an asshole. The last thing women should do is try to deliberately emulate the worst in male behavior. It doesn't help anyone, just adds more jerks to the already booming suckery we have amongst us. Why? Using men for sex or two-timing them is not gonna undo whatever pain you or your mother or less 'savvy' friends may have experienced. All it's gonna do is create more ugliness in the world. Which we don't need. The world is plenty ugly as it is.

PLENTY!

In the interest of time, I'll stop here. I've got more, trust me! If I am the sister warrior-lover I believe I am, I have to look in the mirror and I have to look at my girls and challenge us when I think we are wrong. This is an ongoing personal project and I hope we can grow together, folks.

Sister Toldja LIVE!

2009-11-10T14:20:00.002-05:00

What it is, fam? No real post today. I am in Philly, getting ready to present at another Cool Twitter Conference! I have some other really cool news. I will be a guest on Al B in the Afternoon on Philadelphia's 900AM WURD! It's going down TODAY at 5pm EST. If you are outside of the listening area, there is a live stream (audio and video) at www.900amwurd.com. If you get a chance to check it out, please do! I am awfully excited and I would love your feedback! And if you could tell your cousins and 'nem to listen in, that would be even better!

Thanks again for your support!

love always,
ST

We Who Are Not As Others

2009-11-09T11:22:00.005-05:00

I am not a Christian, nor have I ever been a member of the Christian faith. This is a space to occupy as a Black woman that may be rivaled in discomfort to admitting that you are a Republican or a witch.

I was not raised in a household that subscribed to any institutionalized religion. My mother, with whom I resided, was grappling with her indecision about religion and practiced Buddhism when I was quite young. My father decried Christianity for it's role in enslaving our ancestors and observes some traditional Yoruba spiritual practices. In later years, he has attacked all major organized religions for the role they assign to women. (Yup, I got a gun-toting, weight-lifting, bass-fishing feminist father. Get like him.)

My household was hardly Godless. We have always been a family that dealt with spirituality very openly. I was allowed to explore religion as I saw fit and did a brief stint in a friend's Baptist church when I was about 10. I was curious about this Sunday ritual that most of my friends had and I felt left out. I liked Easter hats and the Sunday dinners. Lacking any real child-appropriate instruction about the Bible, I ended up being a bit bored and confused by the whole thing.I was over it all in a few weeks.

In middle school and high school, I explored Islam. While I admired the role of the Black church in the Civil Rights Movement, I was always more of a Malcolm girl than a Martin one. I wanted to be with the radicals! Plus, most of the rappers I listened to were Muslim or were at the time they recorded the music I held nearest to me: Kweli, Mos, Q-Tip, Brand Nubian, etc. I felt I would be a good Muslim wife for a strong, conscious Black man.

I was all in for "What's the science, Earth?" and "Peace, queen!" The patriarchy, not so much.

I had my dad buy me a Qu'ran for Kwanzaa. I quoted the Honorable Minister Elijah Muhammad's book "The Supreme Wisdom" in essays, partially as an intimidation tactic against my teachers who were trying to brainwash me with their Eurocentric education. For a brief spell, I wrapped my hair up, hopped on the #6 Jeffery bus and went to Mosque Mariam on Sundays. Actually, I thought I had accidentally joined the Nation Of Islam one week. The Hon. Minister Farrakhan asked those who wanted to accept Allah in to their hearts to come forward. I was riled up and excited by his political message that day, plus a bit star-struck; so down the aisle I went. Then, we went downstairs and I signed something. Fast forward to me calling the Mosque from school on Monday and asking if I had joined the NOI. It was explained to me that I was a member by birth and had not obligated myself to anything additional with my signature.

My interest in Islam lasted a bit longer than my exploration of Christianity (and my super brief peek at Buddhism); however, I again decided to walk away from religion. I felt that my head and my artistic/political interests were guiding me to something that wasn't in my heart. My feminist ideals had already taken shape and while I realize that there are women like me in all organized religions, I just wasn't down for any of them at that point. I felt, and still feel, that if organized religion is for me, God will make it abundantly clear.

Life in Negronia as a non-Christian is no crystal stair. There have been times I wished I was a Muslim so I could at least have something more 'respectable' to defend my reasons for not being a Christ follower. Trying to explain to people that I believe in God, but not religion is an often daunting task. Black folks tend to assume that everyone else is a Christian. At Howard, not only were there opening prayers at official university events, their were prayers that ended with "in Jesus' name we pray"! The first time I heard that, I looked around expecting to see other shocked reactions. Everyone else just said "Amen." I just knew that the speaker had forgotten that he wasn't at church or at home or in the company of people who had ALL accepted Christianity. How could they do this at a school? What about the Muslim kids? The kids who didn't believe in God? What about me? I felt like an outcast.

I have had to stop people mid-argument and tell them that while I respected the fact that their opinions were informed by the Bible, that mine were not. Thus, you can't argue me with Scripture because we aren't on the same page. This has been impossible for some folks to consider, especially when it comes to matters of church and state. I've also had people say in my presence "I'm sorry, but I just don't trust anyone who doesn't accept Jesus as their Lord and Savior", without even remotely considering the possibility that I wasn't Christian.

I do worry about the impact my religious choice may have on my dating life, especially as I get closer to you-know-what age. I'd be okay with committing to someone who had different beliefs, but I wouldn't convert for anyone. I don't think God would want me to join a religion to make another human being happy. God knows when I'm lying. I just hope my future super boo doesn't have a hyper-religious family that won't accept me into their fold. I have a lot working against me romantically: I'm a non-Christian feminist with a deep opposition to the smell of pork. I may be Negronia's least eligible batchelorette.

I have friends who are Christian who are loving and tolerant of my dissenting religious beliefs; I also have others with whom we do best to just not speak about religion, which is fine with me. I am in no way, shape, or form implying that all Black Christians are intolerant or prejudiced. However, there is certainly a level of marginalization and ostracizing that I find to be unfortunate. Furthermore, I find some of the widely held practices and beliefs of the Black church to be embarrassing and in total opposition to what I stand for. It's hard to separate myself in total from a group that has by and large done so many positive things for our folks, but there are just times in which I don't want that group even attempting to speak for my needs.

I feel good about my connection to the Almighty, the spirits, the ancestral council. My relationship with the Creator doesn't need a mediator. And I feel good when I see people who have done beautiful things for themselves and others with organized religion. I realize that the teachings of the Bible and their varied interpretations prevent me from seeing eye-to-eye with people on a number of subjects, and that's fine. I just wish to challenge the institutionalized religious normativity (God, how many times a week do I say that word?) within the Black community. Non-Black Christians are not Jesus-hating devil worshippers. We aren't doing the devil's work. We all trying to get to the same place for the most part and we needn't make anyone feel uncomfortable along the way.

Five For Friday: Beats for the Sheets

2009-11-06T12:02:00.003-05:00

Well, I hope this isn't a anti-climatic (HI-YO!) end to Sex Week on The Beautiful Struggler. But I've pretty much done all the talking I needed to do on the subject. Good music is so much a part of my best sexual memories and since it's Five For Friday, I thought I would share some sexytime jams.

"No, my brother, you've got to get your own! Well, I'll share just this one time..."

I'm highlighting some of the bedroom tunes that are slept on...but they should be slept WITH. HUZZAH! Thank you, Brooklyn. You've been beautiful. I'll be here all weekend. Tip your waitress, she's working hard for the money. (What can I say? I share a birthday with Rodney Dangerfield. Take my life, please.)

1) "Softly, Softly"- Sweetback f/Maxwell

Most boho folks seem to be up on this, cause we just cool like that. But for the rest of youse, this is from the band that backs Sade. Maxwell was just post-rolling around on the video floor with the Afro and this song is just...everything.

2)"Blue In Green"-Miles Davis

I know, it's on Kind Of Blue, you've probably heard it before. But I just had to post it. It may be more of before or after lovemaking song, but it's stunning in any situation.

3)"Temptations"-Tupac

Perhaps I shouldn't admit this, but "Tempations" is my favorite 'Pac song. Um, behind "Dear Mama" and all the conscious stuff of course, ahem. This might be good for that drunk after the clubbin' lovin'.

4)"Spend The Night"-Rahsaan Patterson

My incense and head wrap side is showing again. I love Rahsaan Patterson, despite his...interesting attitude about his own sexuality. This track and "Don't Wanna Lose It" are two of my favorite sexy love songs. They make me think about grown-up love and the holiday season, for some strange reason. Like cuddling on the couch by the Kinara after you lit the day's candle, surrounded by Christmas lights and the scent of nutmeg...I'll stop.

5)"Trust"-Me'Shell N'Degeocello

I have loved Me'Shell since "Dread Loc". Remember the relevant, edgy MTV that used to play her videos? This is about the sexiest song ever created. She was on my "Um, I ain't really in to women, but if you ask nicely" list, until I saw her in person and discovered I am a good foot taller than she. I may compromise my heterosexuality, by my height requirement is my law.

BONUS- "Tell Me More and More and Then Some"-Nina Simone

Nina was the baddest MF on the planet. I wish so badly I had the opportunity to meet her before she transitioned. This song is so bold and brash, I LOVE it. So do you.
BONUS BONUS "I Love It (Papi Aye Aye Aye)"-Al B Sure!

I'm gonna keep posting this until someone else says they like it too. Why won't you let Albert be great? This my song! It's a good song. Give it a shot, please?

Have a great weekend! Maybe some great loving too, why not?

Let's Talk About Sex Postive 3: And Doing It Well

2009-11-05T13:38:00.003-05:00

After a few very heavy days of unpacking pain and engaging pathologies as they pertain to sex, it seems high time to deal with what SHOULD be the fun part: the sex! We've all had "Better Than No Sex" sex or "That Wasn't Worth The Hours Of Sleep" sex. I don't know about y'all, but I am all about the business of making any sex I'm having great.

Before you can be comfortable with your partner, you have to be comfortable with YOURSELF! If you didn't get a chance to check out Monday's piece, I wanted to emphasize the need to look at yourself in the mirror and be turned on. What's sexy about someone who doesn't find his or herself to be sexy? Very little. If you can't disrobe for for yourself without focusing 100% of your attention on what's wrong with you, then you will project that same lack of confidence to your partner. Taking what ever steps you need to address those issues as they exist outside of the bedroom will likely create an improved sense of freedom in the bedroom.

She's not dreaming about losing that last ten pounds. She's dreaming about that fine ass man in her bed.

We get mixed messages from the media and from our communities. There are people telling us not to have sex and those telling us that sex is the most important thing ever and that we are losing if we aren't screwing. Most of us end up somewhere in the middle. We're having sex, great. But are we good at it? Are we supposed to just learn by trial and error? Or bust out those somewhat intimidating Cosmo sex tips on an unwitting lover? What about this widespread female practice of faking orgasms? What is the purpose of that?

I can't speak for everyone, but once I figured out that I wasn't doing much but providing a warm body in the bed, I approached sex like it was skill I had to learn. I consulted some books, some magazines, some porn. To figure out what I enjoyed, I got real familiar with myself and the products that were created to help me do so. To better understand what turned my lovers on, I asked them. It was very awkward at first; I was in college and I know I was saying stuff they weren't used to hearing- "What is your favorite part of....", "What can I do to make this better?", etc. I have other girlfriends who have admitted to the same and it seems to have been a useful tool for all of us in building a sexual repiore that is both impressive to the other person and beneficial to me.

Humans have a hard time communicating with one another and the bedroom is no exception. Be it explaining to your occasional "buddy" that you don't like doggy style or explaining to your long-term love that his "special move" does nothing for you, we often times have a hard time saying the things we need to say to get the sex we want. We don't want to hurt our partner's feelings, we don't want to look like freaks, we don't understand what it is we want to ask for in the first place. Think about it this way: if you can open up your mouth to some one's penis, you can open it to say "You know what I would really like?"

They actually just had that "Stapleton Sex"*** Good things come to those who communicate.

I took a lot of sexual "L's" before I decided that I would rather have a potentially awkward moment of conversation than a night of boring, painful or otherwise unfulfilled sex. One of my dearest friends said to me not long ago "The best sex, for me, is like a conversation". I think that sums up my sexual mission statement more than anything else I've ever heard. What I personally enjoy most is sharing a mutual experience: two people focused on both their personal pleasure and the pleasure of their partner. It doesn't matter if love or lust brought me to that bedroom ~~parking lot or playground~~, I'm bringing my A game and I feel that the person who gets the pleasure of my time should do the same. One of the highest compliments I ever got from an ex-lover was that he felt like sex with me was a give and take, whereas in the past, he always felt like he was either f*cking or being f*cked.

I didn't want it on my face, he shoulda known that! Now I gotta wash my hair in the morning and I'ma be late for work.

A sexual "conversation" is not about keeping an orgasm tally or making sure that every act is reciprocated every time. I've had great sexual experiences that didn't result in a climax and I've also chosen on occasion to completely focus on my partner without requiring any special attention in return. I've also laid on my back and let a man do most of the work when the time called for it. Not every sexual angle is for every sexual partner or for every encounter. That's why I am so big on the communication piece. If you and your lover can be in a place where you can lay your desires on the table (with or without words), you are probably gonna have a better time than the couple on two very different pages of two very different books. If I can't look you in the eye and say "Babe, you know what I need tonight?" or "Let me just take care of you tonight, please?"...I don't need to be twisting sheets with you.

I'm not at all saying I'm the queen of the bedroom. I still have bad nights occasionally. I can be overly competitive and sometimes will remove myself from the "conversation" I wish to have in order to feel like I put it down the best. And I've even sat back and been bored so it can end and I can go to sleep. But for the most part, my sex is bomb.com for me and the person in the question. And that's because of the effort I've put in to becoming confident with my body, my skill level and my ability to communicate with my lover. As they say, ain't no fun if the homeys can't have none. I hope you, too, are having the best sex you can.

***-NOT SUITABLE FOR WORK! EVEN MORE THAN THIS! TRUST ME! It's a good video though.

Let's Talk About Sex Positve, Part 2: Put It In Ya Mouth?

2009-11-04T11:59:00.002-05:00

And here it is. The blog post I never thought I would write. The one about sucking dick.

Thank you for making this very hard for me, asshole.

If I can break the literary 4th wall a little more than usual and commit the sin of blogging about blogging, I am actually nervous about this topic. I've had other posts that made me a little uncomfortable, but this is the first time that I have experienced fear when writing. On the inside, I am alternately giggling and feeling a little weepy. This is hard.

Okay, I took off my cool, let me put it back on.

I was a little stuck on where I wanted to take the next part of the Sex Week journey and the homie JDantv suggested the head game and the notion that Black women are hesitant to give it, is it demeaning, etc. My first reaction- ME, Ms. Sex Positivity!- was "How do I look writing about sucking dick? Hell no!" But as I said yesterday, to get to the freedom, we have to destroy the chains. And with that comes pain. *Poetry just runs though me. I can't even help it. I don't even like poetry.*

So, let's talk about giving head, shall we? I am well aware that there is a school of thought that says that Black women don't do it as often or as well as White women. I am also aware that women of all races should run and hide in the presence of men who say things like this. Girl, he's just not that respectful of you. Admittedly without any scientific evidence, I am a firm believer that the idea of Black women not sucking dick is grossly blown out of proportion. I also don't believe that White women just spend all their time giving out blow jobs.

However, I DO believe that Black women may be more reticent to give head or to talk about doing it than our White counterparts. Here's why: the Black woman was made out by European racists to be an insatiable sexual beast. This notion of the Black female's animal like sexuality was used to justify rape and oppression for centuries. There were cases of Black women being unable to testify on their own behalf in rape trials because of their 'irrepressible sexuality' as late as the 1970's, while White women were campaigning for the freedom to freak as they saw fit.

According to writer Michela Angela Davis's comments at a recent panel, the rise of Hip-Hop culture dealt another blow to the sexual identity of the Black woman. Whereas Black music had formerly been a primarily "safe space" for sisters, Davis stated that we were now being "molested" by our music. I am inclined to agree. While Hip-Hop speaks volumes about misogyny against all women, it is sisters who are the primary targets of the nasty slurs and imagery used by rappers. When you grow up hearing all these emcees talking about sexual women like they are the scum of the earth, how many young women are gonna be comfortable talking about their sexuality?

Head in Hip-Hop is often described as an almost violent act. The giver is usually some lowly woman who is willing to barter her sex at best for some diamonds or cash and at worst, for the mere privilege of being in the presence of the rapper in question. Unsurprisingly, the vilest lyrics come from traditionally unattractive men who wouldn't have otherwise been able to pull many women. And yes, there are plenty of groupies out their willing to oblige in these acts.

Video "vixens": brought to you by low self-esteem, capitalism and a celebrity obsessed culture. How dreadful.

This isn't about blaming Hip-Hop or White oppression for destroying the ability for Black women to travel light when it comes to sexuality. But when critiquing Black women for this perceived sexual flaw or modesty or dishonesty, we must understand that Black women are not the architects of our own pathology here.* We didn't just land on this place with a bad attitude, a lot of baggage and a bunch of hangups. Like White women, like Black men, like everyone else...we done been through some real shit here, people.

I remember my conversations about sex with my girlfriends when we were in middle school and high school. The general sentiment was "I'm not ever doing it" or "Only for my husband". One other homegirl and I were always off to the side on that like "Um, I'm pretty sure you're gonna do it a lot sooner than that." I didn't perform oral sex until I was 18 and it took me more years than that to actually feel comfortable doing it or to know how to do it well. But I know a hell of a lot of other girls who started sooner than that. Sadly, few seemed to actually enjoy it or to be doing it for the right reasons back then. But teenage sex is another largely troubling subject for another day.

What's crazy to me is that I, of all people, felt more comfortable writing about being sexually assaulted than I do writing about my willingness to choose sex. I am nothing if not very, very human. While I do live life off the wall, dealing with judgement can be annoying, to say the least. But I ride or die for my girls and I'll be the one to stand up and say, yes, I give head. Why wouldn't I? I', 24, 25. I'm sexually active and if I'm sleeping with you...the dots should connect easily. We grown.

Fellatio is not a demeaning act, if it is performed by a willing participant in a safe space. If a man is using you simply for head, if you are attempting to barter it or any other sex trick for affection, then that's another story. If a man tells you that he refuses to return the favor, you shouldn't do it for him unless you just really enjoy doing it. And even then, there's something wrong about giving to someone who only chooses to receive. But the typical head performance- we sexing, you going down, I'm going down- is nothing to be ashamed of.

For many women, comfort with oral sex is something that has to be worked towards. I had a few highly traumatic experiences with giving head: one that occurred when I was still very new to my sexual life and the other when I was just starting to feel confident about my sexual identity and prowess. Oral sex is now just like anything else that can be exchanged between myself and a man: I'm prideful about my ability to do it and I am in complete control over when or why I would.

I reject the Cosmo-fication of sex, which asks women to alternately agonize over achieving some mind-blowing orgasm and making sure that your man is exposed to every possible iota of sexual gratification you can conjure. However, purchasing some books about giving head helped me to get to a level of comfort and skill that has both empowered my sexual choices and improved the quality of my sex life.

Nothing is wrong with modesty. Black women should not feel that they are failing in some way if they don't want to talk about the things they do in the bedroom. The problem is when we feel that we CAN'T talk about those things or that we shouldn't be doing them in the first place. The women who lie about certain acts or reject them create a hostile and unsafe condition for sisters who may otherwise feel okay about their choices. Women are no less guilty of 'slut shaming' than men and that sort of judgement often times hurts more coming from the group with whom you most identify.

However, you KNOW I wouldn't be me if I didn't engage the male culpability here. By publicly comparing us to White women sexually, we are once again given the meme that we just aren't what men want. This isn't the attitude of every man, but it's a conversation that has been repeated too many times. If the desire of our men is for Black women to feel comfortable with being sexual, there is a level of support we need from men to achieve that. The virgin/whore dichotomy that says a woman is either/or is oppressive to women of all races and needs to be dismantled. We cannot be made to feel like sluts when we fuck and prudes when we don't.

All that said, how do we get past this, people? How do we arrive at a place where Black women are sexually free? Where all women feel comfortable with being as sexually on or off as they please without feeling that they feel to meet a criterion? How do we destroy the attitude that sucking dick is some nasty woman's disease?

*I jacked that phrase, used in a different context, from a commenter at the same panel discussion.

Let's Talk About Sex-Postive, Part 1

2009-11-03T10:44:00.005-05:00

I've come to belong to a few diverse communities of thinkers on and off the net, and I communicate with these people quite frequently here and on Twitter. I've got my social-media folks, my feminist friends, my Afro-Boho tribe, my buppies, my Howard people, Chitown homies, etc.

Me too, Chaka!

Sometimes the convergence can be a delicate dance to choreograph. Yesterday's post was about boobs. As can be expected, there was loads of middle school-level titty (word) play in the conversation that ensued on Twitter. I was happy. I like sex and bodies, I like sex and body jokes and sex and body talk. That is, so long as it is done in a safe space and with respect.

But you know what I couldn't help but to wonder? "Are my feminist followers judging me?" I felt like the girl who stood up in class and gave a whole speech about women's liberation, only to go in the hallway and let the captain of the basketball team pop her bra strap. What about my Black nationalist peoples? Are they feeling like I forgot it was "nation time", cause I want to joke about why breasts are more sexually practical than butts. Am I making my causes look bad?

I've never lived in one lane. I realize that's one of the many potentially hard-to-swallow things about me. In college there were a few people perplexed by my passion for both Black nationalism and booze fests. I am who I am and I love it, most days. I won't change for anyone, though I am willing to adapt as necessary. But while I rarely fall short of my personal behavioral standards, I can't go on and pretend that everyone functions as I do. The world outside of myself is one marred by oppression and to survive, I have created my own world of freedom. Freedom of movement, freedom of expression.

**Throw some poetry snaps on my shit, will you?**

Sometimes, I have to remind even myself that feminism is NOT about destroying all notions of traditional femininity or the death of loving sex and men, but rather the freedom to embrace them IF you wish! You aren't a woman because you like wowing men in sexy lingerie and you aren't less of one if you don't. Being open and honest about sexuality is healthy. I want to travel light in this world and with all the issues I have chosen to champion, that's not always possible. Finding the fun and the joy in sexuality, a topic that is so often the source of a lot of that weight I have strapped to my back, helps to make the journey a lot easier.

As I get older, my true causes reveal themselves to me. One of which I am currently discovering is the need for women to feel beautiful and sexy in their skin. I think what birthed that passion for me is arriving at that place myself. It had less to do with improving my appearance than it did accepting my body as MY body. At this very moment, I can't have a better body than the one I have at this very moment. Thus, it's the best one I could possibly have. Does that make sense? It doesn't have to. Even when I was at my most insecure, I felt somewhat sexy. And now my sexiness is starting to take on that real grown woman quality. I recognize it and I love it. Do other people find me sexy? Sure, but that's irrelevant here. This is a solo mission and I am inviting all the other ladies to embark upon their own one if they haven't already.

I can't tell you what feeling of sexy looks like for you, because it may be quite different than it is for me. My sexy smacks of lace and perfume; for some women, it's cotton shorts and a fitted cap. But I do know that your personal body worship service isn't the time for you to regret where your workout regimen has fallen short or how anything is too small or too big or not right. You gotta either see past the "flaws" or embrace them. Worry over the things you love, not those you can't change overnight.

There are a few things that I do for myself that help make me feel super sexy. I'm sharing them in hopes they may inspire you to find your own sensual rituals. No matter where I am going or what I have on, I always wear matching underwear. And I do not own a single cotton undergarment; everything is lace or satin or a damn good imitation of them. I use great smelling lotions and potions everyday and I appreciate the feeling of my skin when I put them on. I listen to sexy music when I'm getting dressed: Van Hunt, Maxwell and Tony, Toni,Tone are on the constant 'getting ready' rotation. And I dance in the mirror in my undies everyday before I leave the house! I don't think I ever told anyone that, but I've been doing it for years. How could I not look at that sexy lady in front of me and indulge her in a little slow wine? This may sound a little silly, but there is a song that I have on my iPod ("Come Live With Me, Angel") and when I hear it, I think of myself and I feel good.

I want men to embrace their sexiness and feel empowered and loved in relation to their bodies as well. However, I am not as equipped to give that pep talk because I'm not as intimately familiar with men's body issues. But I want my brothers to know that it isn't a six-pack or a 10-inch jimmy that makes a man sexy or worthy of desire. And anyone who makes you feel less than if you lack those things isn't worth your time.

Speaking of men: yes! I'm with that! I'm a boy-crazy feminist and I have no qualms about admitting that. I like men. I love men. I like talking to them, I like flirting with them, I like cooking for them, I like making them smile, I like the way the smell, I like sleeping with them. Sex is one of the great joys of life and it just so happens that I am naturally wired to want it from men. And I want to be wanted, like most everyone else does...including those of y'all who are too high and mighty on their empowerment kick to admit it.

So, all that to say this: yay for sex and yay for sex positivity. Let's all arrive at a place where our sexuality is free and expressed as we see fit! Yes, there is a lot of be done to make that freedom widely available. We have a rape culture to dismantle, we have misogyny and unhealthy cultural mandates policing our bodies, etc, etc. But in the meantime, choose JOY! Choose to delight in yourself and your sexuality! It's yours. Love it.

See Also:
"Single Black Fish Seeks Bicycle"
"The Body Owned"

Simply The Breasts

2009-11-02T10:42:00.005-05:00

Hey, have you checked out my Facebook page yet? You know you want to. It's got new pictures, video clips, links and all types of fun. Join us!

I am a breast woman. I am all about boobs: the ones I holster around, as well as other ones. I find breasts to be fascinating and beautiful. My interests in other women's breasts has never been sexual; in fact, I think it's rooted in a past need to compare myself to other girls (who's were bigger, better, why did some girls get perky ones when I got sleepy ones, etc). I also have always been about the relationship to how much cleavage a woman shows to how body-confident or body-aware or modest or bold she may be. I think breasts are just fascinating and lovely, from the smallest no-bra required ones to the watermelon sized bra-busters.

There is no disparity of breast awesomeness in these two women.

However, my relationship to my own breasts is a more complicated one. My mother has large breasts (though she was rather flat until having me, which means I can pretty much schedule my post-pregnancy breast reduction NOW). I looked forward to having them myself and when they finally came, I was AMPED. I went from being totally flat chested in 7th grade to nearly a D-cup by the time I started high school to a double-D when I went on prom. I won't even tell you my size now. Let's just say I could make you a pair of lace baseball caps from some of my bras. And that my back hurts about 25 hours a day.

I never felt pretty or legitimately attractive to the opposite sex until around the time my chest got big. I had always struggled with my weight (and was WAY larger in my head pre-high school than I actually was) and I felt like I was nearly invisible to boys. Until them big old boobs grew in. All of a sudden, there were boys AND men who wanted to look at my body. And I liked it, usually. Throughout high school and even most of college, I felt the only really attractive thing about me was my large bust. I liked my legs too, but I thought the boobs were my biggest asset. Speaking of, wakkka wakkka wakkka, I have never had much butt to speak off. Looking at other sisters with the stacks in the back made me even more attached to my boobs, 'cause they were there. I wanted to detract attention from my sorry behind and so I did, by having my boobs out and down to my freaking knees. For shame. I'd post a picture, but I tried my best to untag and remove all of them from public viewing.

Back then, my breasts were the consolation prize I felt I had to offer men. "Hey, while I may be overweight, look at the awesome gift that comes with girth: big ole' boobies!" I didn't feel appealing unless the boobs were prominently displayed. This forced me to purchase an absurd number of v-necked shirts and even to go so far as to cut any tees that I had that weren't showing any cleave. Y'all, I cut a shirt with the "Ain't I A Woman" speech. I cut a shirt with Malcolm X's face on it. The Ancestral Council will likely want a word with me about that before I can join.

Once I got serious about my diet and exercise grind, I felt better about how the rest of me looked and finally had the confidence to feel sexy without my boobs showing. In fact, I started feeling self-conscious about how I looked with them out. I cringed when I saw old, heavier pictures of me revealing ridiculous amounts of cleavage. So for the most part, the girls found themselves removed from the public eye. It felt good realizing that I no longer saw my mammoth mammaries as a point of validation, but now there's another issue to reckon with: as my body goes, so do my breasts. Every time I gained weight in the past, my breasts got bigger. Now that I was losing weight, I was losing titty too.
June 2008:

July 2009:

October 2009:

The longer my hair gets, the smaller my breasts become. I see my next hangup on deck!

The girls are still big, just not super big. And it first felt weird not getting attention BECAUSE of them. You'd think that someone who was so against fetishization and objectification would be happy about this, but I was honestly used to being "the chick with the big breasts". Even if I had latched on to that identity so I didn't feel like "the big chick", it was part of who I was for a long time and hard to break from. Lately, I see all the other girls showing their breasts proudly in their pictures and on the street. And I feel a little...jealous? Just because I don't want my boobs falling allover the dinner table anymore doesn't mean I want to be Miss Modest Mammaries for the rest of my life. Granted, I do wear dresses that my friends accuse of being long shirts on a regular basis, so I'm hardly covered from head to toe. But I typically have on something lose or cut high over my breasts. I'd never revisit my overly-revealing fashion faux-pas of days past, but the girls are begging to come out and play a little bit more.

My reason for revealing my sweater puppets in the past was my insecurity. Now, it's the opposite: I like how they look, I like looking down and seeing them and because they are awesome because I am awesome. But strangely enough, the queen of "it's YOUR body, own it and display it as YOU feel" is now a little concerned about the messages I may be inadvertently sending to others with my boobs. As wrong as it is for men to assume that visible boobs are waiting for a man to try and get some QT with them, I am aware that there are men who feel this way. Furthermore, I get enough unwanted and not always respectful attention as it stands. Am I ready for what comes when I bring my girls out?

If only there was some way of regulating who looked at you and how they did it and what they saw. What a world it would be if you could control that, right? Sadly, it isn't and I'll have to navigate the treacherous territory of balancing my individual right to bear boobs and my need to maintain as much body autonomy as possible. Garvey Boulevard has no more right to dictate how I see my body than does Glamour Magazine. But while I wish outside factors, barring good taste and event appropriateness, didn't affect my ability to display my wares as I see fit, I live in the same world as everyone else. Boobs are awesome enough to fight for, especially my own. I'll tread lightly in my return to the big (but not so big) reveal (but not too-revealing). My breasts, like the rest of me, are mine and mine alone to own and I will deal with maintain ownership as best I can, even as I "share" them with the world.

Well, what do you know? I just wrote a lot more about my breasts than I ever thought possible. Now, who's next? Come on girls, show us your tit-tales! I don't want to be the only over-sharer today.