Peace.
I was reading a blog rant that inspired my own.....
This time of year is known as the “Holidays.” Not the Christmas season, but the Holidays. Because.... there are lots of different things being celebrated now. Not all of them are Christmas. Jesus is not the only reason for the season.
There are a bunch of Christians pissed the fuck off because folks say “Happy Holidays” vs “Merry Christmas.” Ummmm.... why? When you look at an individual, you cannot assume they are Christians. You should not make that assumption. I live in the USA and xianity is NOT the official religion. There is not official religion for the US so it would be foolish of you to assume that everyone you come in contact with shares YOUR beliefs.
Here is the thing... xians have not done their due diligence to preserve their celebration. If you don't like how secular xmas has become then you should have not allowed everyone to join in. You don't see gentiles celebrating Hanukkah. You don't see non-Muslims fasting for Ramadan. If you wanted xmas to be pure, you should have kept it to yourselves. There is even an argument that the xians came up with xmas trees... I'm sorry to inform you... you did not. Folks been bring trees into their homes at the winter solstice for antiquity. In winter everything died and only evergreens were alive. They wanted cheering up. And xians answer me this.... What do xmas trees have to do with the birth of your savior???? Was there a tree growing in the barn he was born in? Did the wise man hang their gifts like ornaments on the 1st xmas tree??? Get your fucking facts straight. Jesus wasn't even born in December. Xian fathers picked that date because that's when a bunch of merry making was going on anyway. They didn't want their new followers to miss out so they co-opted the celebration. The sadness is because of their lying assed shenanigans, the real birth date of Jesus was lost to the ages. Idiots....
This is the same shit that happens on Mothers Day. I get wished happy Mother's Day without checking to see if I have a child. When I say I don't have a child, instead of just apologizing and moving on they try to qualify it. Well go wish some men Happy Mothers Day. And they say it's stupid. Just as stupid as assuming everyone buying gifts and wrapping paper has a church home.
I got to googling because I was wondering how many officially Xian countries there are. The answers were murky at best. I'm talking OFFICIAL, written in there constitution countries and not just where the majority of the population is xian. I said it was murky because even the internet won't commit. In countries like Iran, Iraq and Afghanistan their constitution starts out, “We are the sons of Muhammad...” Well you know those jokers are officially Muslim all up and through. But not so much for these arrogant xians... England has an official xian church. So I assume it's a xian country. The Vatican is a country so them. Other than that... idk. Maybe some of them South American countries?
Y'all xians need to stop. Everything ain't all about you. There are plenty of people who don't want your jesus and there ain't nothing you can do about it. And if you don't like “Happy Holidays” would you like “Fuck you bitch” any better?
Tuesday, December 22, 2015
Wednesday, November 25, 2015
Black Women
Peace.
I was having a conversation with one of our patients yesterday. I'm super friendly with patients... it's part of the job. And it's authentic.... even though I don't aspire to be a “nice” person.... but anyway.... We were both Black women just shooting the breeze about how we navigate this wilderness.....
And I realize... It is so fucking hard to exist in this country being a Black person and additionally being female. I wanna say that we aren't supported by the men of our race... But that's a build for another time.
I'm an inconsistent outside runner. I say inconsistent because if the weather is bad I don't run. And I don't have a treadmill or a gym membership so there is no running indoors. I like being outside. Anywho.... I have had numerous life lessons associated with running outdoors.... (1) always make sure your clothes match. If not, and your Black, you look like your fleeing from a crime scene. That's one of the reasons I don't run in the cold. Because to layer up to warmth has me looking like a thief. Especially if my face is partially covered. Here is the thing... when I go over to areas where white folks are known to run and they dress ragedy.... they look like runners. Not to me, but to other people. So the lesson I took from that is that as a Black person I have to look non-intimidating otherwise I will be detained by the police. Even though I'm a woman....
But because I'm a woman I have learned (2) to be prepared to prove... if possible... that I am actually running and not 'solicitating'. This shit pisses me way the fuck off. Basically, folks see me on the street and just assume I'm a hoe. Nevermind that I am exercising in my own damn neighborhood. The only reason for a Black WOMAN to be outdoors is because she is looking to have illicit sex with strangers for money? But... there are Black male runners in my hood. We've had the occasional convo. They too get stopped by the police, but it is never for soliciting. It's always a check. Funny, I get the checks too and the extras.
I don't like them 'checks' either. Not only because it's an insult to me, but because you search for zones when running. To stop in the middle throws the entire run off. Because you either cool down and slow your heart rate. And you want your heart rate to hit a certain spot and maintain it there, That makes you stronger as a person and stronger as a runner. If your training for respectable distances than this is a problem getting frequently pulled over.
Problem (3) So, don't run in my own neighborhood. Run on dedicated tracks. Well..... on holidays and weekends I can run at the local school's track... if they allow it. Sometimes they do, sometime they don't. It's all about how they feel and what's going on. If soccer practice is happening or school is session you aren't welcome. So there is no true consistency in there. I could go to trails.... But the trails in this county have histories of women being raped and killed there. I'd be running alone so....... yeah no. I'd rather be accused of whoredom than killed. I could run the beltline... I could... I have.... But the beltline is for white people. No there's no 'white's only' sign but there might as well be. I've run the beltline.... By the time you find a place to leave your car... most of the spots over there are metered..... And get to running... the white runners treat you like you have ebola and want to infect their babies. And the cops ARE GOING to stop you and question you about how you got loose from your hood. You better have your license and some cash in your pocket or they could get you for vagrancy or loitering. Running while Black is a real thing.
It's not just running. I'm marginalized at every opportunity by him/devil. I was in a restaurant with some girlfriends and we were sitting at the bar. Every time we ordered something we were asked to pay immediately. As a former bartender, that immediately got my attention. If you want people to keep drinking and ordering items, you don't make them pay after every order. Mentally when people pay, they are ready to go. My friends paid... I waited. I told the bartender I wasn't done with my order and retained the menu. I observed the bartender running tabs for all the white people but insisting that all the Black people pay up front. I decided on water and when we left and my girls were about to tip the bartender, I told them to stop. The bartender got mad and told me that he was entitled to tips. That was enough to insure my friends were NOT going to tip. But I informed him... loudly... that I observed him running tabs for white people, but not for Black people. He said Black people run out on bills. He just insured that all the other Black people sitting there weren't going t tip.
I don't have to tell you about being followed in stores. All Black people get that. I don't have to tell you about the everyday racism and discrimination that all Black people face. But as a woman... I get extra special discrimination. Here is a list of things people assume when they look at me.....
I have several children.... by different men.
I have never been married.
I live in the projects
I was raised by any other female relative other than my biological mother
I'm on welfare or have been on it at some point
I have a relative in jail.
I've never voted.
I have some hustle going on.
My hair isn't real.
I'm uneducated.
I work a menial job.
I don't know my father well or at all.
I have bad credit.
I turn up every Saturday night with brown liquor and then praise white Jesus all day on Sunday.
This is some bullshit to have to wake up knowing I'm going to have to face every day. But I do it because there is nothing else to do. But since it's wrong... I do get to bitch about it.
I'm exhausted.
Peace
I was having a conversation with one of our patients yesterday. I'm super friendly with patients... it's part of the job. And it's authentic.... even though I don't aspire to be a “nice” person.... but anyway.... We were both Black women just shooting the breeze about how we navigate this wilderness.....
And I realize... It is so fucking hard to exist in this country being a Black person and additionally being female. I wanna say that we aren't supported by the men of our race... But that's a build for another time.
I'm an inconsistent outside runner. I say inconsistent because if the weather is bad I don't run. And I don't have a treadmill or a gym membership so there is no running indoors. I like being outside. Anywho.... I have had numerous life lessons associated with running outdoors.... (1) always make sure your clothes match. If not, and your Black, you look like your fleeing from a crime scene. That's one of the reasons I don't run in the cold. Because to layer up to warmth has me looking like a thief. Especially if my face is partially covered. Here is the thing... when I go over to areas where white folks are known to run and they dress ragedy.... they look like runners. Not to me, but to other people. So the lesson I took from that is that as a Black person I have to look non-intimidating otherwise I will be detained by the police. Even though I'm a woman....
But because I'm a woman I have learned (2) to be prepared to prove... if possible... that I am actually running and not 'solicitating'. This shit pisses me way the fuck off. Basically, folks see me on the street and just assume I'm a hoe. Nevermind that I am exercising in my own damn neighborhood. The only reason for a Black WOMAN to be outdoors is because she is looking to have illicit sex with strangers for money? But... there are Black male runners in my hood. We've had the occasional convo. They too get stopped by the police, but it is never for soliciting. It's always a check. Funny, I get the checks too and the extras.
I don't like them 'checks' either. Not only because it's an insult to me, but because you search for zones when running. To stop in the middle throws the entire run off. Because you either cool down and slow your heart rate. And you want your heart rate to hit a certain spot and maintain it there, That makes you stronger as a person and stronger as a runner. If your training for respectable distances than this is a problem getting frequently pulled over.
Problem (3) So, don't run in my own neighborhood. Run on dedicated tracks. Well..... on holidays and weekends I can run at the local school's track... if they allow it. Sometimes they do, sometime they don't. It's all about how they feel and what's going on. If soccer practice is happening or school is session you aren't welcome. So there is no true consistency in there. I could go to trails.... But the trails in this county have histories of women being raped and killed there. I'd be running alone so....... yeah no. I'd rather be accused of whoredom than killed. I could run the beltline... I could... I have.... But the beltline is for white people. No there's no 'white's only' sign but there might as well be. I've run the beltline.... By the time you find a place to leave your car... most of the spots over there are metered..... And get to running... the white runners treat you like you have ebola and want to infect their babies. And the cops ARE GOING to stop you and question you about how you got loose from your hood. You better have your license and some cash in your pocket or they could get you for vagrancy or loitering. Running while Black is a real thing.
It's not just running. I'm marginalized at every opportunity by him/devil. I was in a restaurant with some girlfriends and we were sitting at the bar. Every time we ordered something we were asked to pay immediately. As a former bartender, that immediately got my attention. If you want people to keep drinking and ordering items, you don't make them pay after every order. Mentally when people pay, they are ready to go. My friends paid... I waited. I told the bartender I wasn't done with my order and retained the menu. I observed the bartender running tabs for all the white people but insisting that all the Black people pay up front. I decided on water and when we left and my girls were about to tip the bartender, I told them to stop. The bartender got mad and told me that he was entitled to tips. That was enough to insure my friends were NOT going to tip. But I informed him... loudly... that I observed him running tabs for white people, but not for Black people. He said Black people run out on bills. He just insured that all the other Black people sitting there weren't going t tip.
I don't have to tell you about being followed in stores. All Black people get that. I don't have to tell you about the everyday racism and discrimination that all Black people face. But as a woman... I get extra special discrimination. Here is a list of things people assume when they look at me.....
I have several children.... by different men.
I have never been married.
I live in the projects
I was raised by any other female relative other than my biological mother
I'm on welfare or have been on it at some point
I have a relative in jail.
I've never voted.
I have some hustle going on.
My hair isn't real.
I'm uneducated.
I work a menial job.
I don't know my father well or at all.
I have bad credit.
I turn up every Saturday night with brown liquor and then praise white Jesus all day on Sunday.
This is some bullshit to have to wake up knowing I'm going to have to face every day. But I do it because there is nothing else to do. But since it's wrong... I do get to bitch about it.
I'm exhausted.
Peace
Monday, November 23, 2015
profanity and ebonics
I hate bitch assed haters. I know I'm supposed to make my haters my motivators, but I (a) have too many and (b) I can find folks more inspiring..... The topic of this particular rant are these Southern Peach chicas who think that the way they do shit is the only way it can be done.
I do my own nails. When I moved to my current address it was over an hour round trip to my regular technician. I braved it for a few months.... the shops here are too ghetto/unprofessional.... they make you wait when there are no clients, yet plenty of techs in the back. When they make me wait at the minimal 30 minutes in an empty shop.....I leave with about 5 bottles of their polish. My time is worth something. Another shop tried to rob me by charging you me shit they ain't do. I called on chick out on it and she called the police on me like that was supposed to scare me. Really... she learned that day. The police sided with me! I have a car. I can go anywhere I choose. That's one half of this particular hater coin. The other half is I decided to do my own nails. I went to the BSS, bought all the shit and do my own nails. You cannot tell that the Asians ain't do them. I used to do my own nails when I was in grad school. I got proficient enough to do other folks nails. I like to feel some luxury so when I started working steady I let someone else do them for me. I can do most things to my nails with the exception of airbrushed designs. So where is the hate?
My real estate agent made a comment about how thick my nails where. I don't normally discuss my grooming habits with folks. Because people be wanting to share opinions about shit that ain't their business. I HATE unsolicited advice. But.... I was eating and all in my feelings about my vittles. I was distracted and said, “I make them thick because they don't crack.” She caught that and said, “You do your own nails??? You can't tell....” I said, “Isn't that the point?” The convo went on for a hot second about how and why. Now I catch her constantly checking my hands to see the status of my nails. If she deems them busted she makes sure to mention it. Here's the thing.... my nails are never busted. I don't have to wait until nail day to do make adjustments. But the polish may chip or I might be growing them out a bit from the cuticle. I don't need this trick to be up on my hands. And I know she only does that to me because she knows I do my own nails. Another of our colleagues... who gets her nails done... I asked her why she didn't comment on her nails. She said, “Oh she gets hers done professionally.” I need new friends.....
Another chick who knows I sew, is always asking me last minute to make repairs. She has no compunction to show up at the crib and say, “I need you to hem this, I'm wearing it in 15 minutes.” Once might be okay. But now I avoid her like herpes. And because of this she shades my name amongst our so-called friends. I'm not compassionate. I hoard my talents. Had she asked in a reasonable time frame, I might accommodate her. I TOLD her her shit is shady. This means nothing to her. I've asked why she doesn't go to the cleaners and let them do her alterations.... She literally said, “They charge too much.” which means she doesn't want to pay. This bitch buys garments and fabric with me doing something with them in mind. We don't speak anymore. Seriously... I avoid her like I do the Jehovah's Witnesses.
I think I'm pissed because I must appear as an easy mark. Just because I can do something, doesn't mean I want to do it for you or that my homemade version is somehow low budget. It's not. My clothes fit me well without pinning or wearing spanx. No, you can't come to my house and have me cook you some food. The only grown people I cook for is Precise and my mother. If you come to the crib, you can't drink up my liquor or assume control over my remote control. You cannot. You didn't pay for the privilege. I'm over being nice and sharing. Because in this day and age folks don't share back. And I'm over your judging... especially if you can't do what I do. I'm not broke, and that's why I make my own clothes. I make my own clothes because it's a hobby I love and I can.... So fuck you bitches!!!!
I don't do this to people. You invite to your home to break bread, I'm bringing something and inviting you back to mine. I do reciprocity. Not the "68 and I'll owe you 1" type shit. I only drink if I brought a bottle. And when I leave. I don't ask for plates and I don't take my brought shit back. If I know someone has a skill, I compensate them for the ability. I don't do freebies and hookups. I'm the best friend ever. But I know and understand how to use the word “No”. But as far as these damn haters go.... I have no problem throwing the 1st punch.
I do my own nails. When I moved to my current address it was over an hour round trip to my regular technician. I braved it for a few months.... the shops here are too ghetto/unprofessional.... they make you wait when there are no clients, yet plenty of techs in the back. When they make me wait at the minimal 30 minutes in an empty shop.....I leave with about 5 bottles of their polish. My time is worth something. Another shop tried to rob me by charging you me shit they ain't do. I called on chick out on it and she called the police on me like that was supposed to scare me. Really... she learned that day. The police sided with me! I have a car. I can go anywhere I choose. That's one half of this particular hater coin. The other half is I decided to do my own nails. I went to the BSS, bought all the shit and do my own nails. You cannot tell that the Asians ain't do them. I used to do my own nails when I was in grad school. I got proficient enough to do other folks nails. I like to feel some luxury so when I started working steady I let someone else do them for me. I can do most things to my nails with the exception of airbrushed designs. So where is the hate?
My real estate agent made a comment about how thick my nails where. I don't normally discuss my grooming habits with folks. Because people be wanting to share opinions about shit that ain't their business. I HATE unsolicited advice. But.... I was eating and all in my feelings about my vittles. I was distracted and said, “I make them thick because they don't crack.” She caught that and said, “You do your own nails??? You can't tell....” I said, “Isn't that the point?” The convo went on for a hot second about how and why. Now I catch her constantly checking my hands to see the status of my nails. If she deems them busted she makes sure to mention it. Here's the thing.... my nails are never busted. I don't have to wait until nail day to do make adjustments. But the polish may chip or I might be growing them out a bit from the cuticle. I don't need this trick to be up on my hands. And I know she only does that to me because she knows I do my own nails. Another of our colleagues... who gets her nails done... I asked her why she didn't comment on her nails. She said, “Oh she gets hers done professionally.” I need new friends.....
Another chick who knows I sew, is always asking me last minute to make repairs. She has no compunction to show up at the crib and say, “I need you to hem this, I'm wearing it in 15 minutes.” Once might be okay. But now I avoid her like herpes. And because of this she shades my name amongst our so-called friends. I'm not compassionate. I hoard my talents. Had she asked in a reasonable time frame, I might accommodate her. I TOLD her her shit is shady. This means nothing to her. I've asked why she doesn't go to the cleaners and let them do her alterations.... She literally said, “They charge too much.” which means she doesn't want to pay. This bitch buys garments and fabric with me doing something with them in mind. We don't speak anymore. Seriously... I avoid her like I do the Jehovah's Witnesses.
I think I'm pissed because I must appear as an easy mark. Just because I can do something, doesn't mean I want to do it for you or that my homemade version is somehow low budget. It's not. My clothes fit me well without pinning or wearing spanx. No, you can't come to my house and have me cook you some food. The only grown people I cook for is Precise and my mother. If you come to the crib, you can't drink up my liquor or assume control over my remote control. You cannot. You didn't pay for the privilege. I'm over being nice and sharing. Because in this day and age folks don't share back. And I'm over your judging... especially if you can't do what I do. I'm not broke, and that's why I make my own clothes. I make my own clothes because it's a hobby I love and I can.... So fuck you bitches!!!!
I don't do this to people. You invite to your home to break bread, I'm bringing something and inviting you back to mine. I do reciprocity. Not the "68 and I'll owe you 1" type shit. I only drink if I brought a bottle. And when I leave. I don't ask for plates and I don't take my brought shit back. If I know someone has a skill, I compensate them for the ability. I don't do freebies and hookups. I'm the best friend ever. But I know and understand how to use the word “No”. But as far as these damn haters go.... I have no problem throwing the 1st punch.
Wednesday, October 21, 2015
Kool-Aid
Peace.
I am really sick of folks that drink the Kool-Aid and ask for more.....
Me and the 7 are looking into purchasing a home. We got pre-approved for a nice sum. But even with the amount that we were approved for we have been looking for a house that is in an Original neighborhood. Those homes are cheaper, because Black neighborhoods are considered bad regardless of the reality. That's what I want. I'm Black. Why would I not want to live in an exclusively Black neighborhood?
So my Kool-Aid loving Black friends are like... “Why do you want to do that to yourself?” and “Don't you want to live in a nice neighborhood?” This one is my favorite, “What about the resale value of your property?” Really... damnit ... REALLY?????
The 7 had concerns too, but just for a second. He was concerned about the low rating of schools for children we don't have. His thinking was... if the children are knuckleheads then they will be wilding out all up and through. I love him. So I forgive him for that.
Here is the thing.... For a neighborhood to be considered bad, and consequently the schools.... they must have a qualifying factor. That qualifying factor is minorities. If minorities are present it brings the property value down. This is why white folks claim they don't want Black folks living in their neighborhoods. Fine to work, just don't live there. Yes there are other things that bring it down, but those things are usually associated.... WRONGFULLY...with minorities. So.... if there are 10 homes on a city Block and 9 of them are occupied with white people and 1 home is occupied with Black people, then the value of the neighborhood is reduced significantly. The same goes for schools. The more minorities in the school, the lower the rating.
What that means for me as a Black person, as a member of a Black family, is that my presence alone is enough to cause a neighborhood to decline. What am I supposed to do with that? Nothing I can do. I can't stop being Black. And more importantly, I don't care. I didn't make that rule, I'm not going to play a game that is designed for me to lose. We work good square jobs. We have enough money to damn live anywhere. We will buy where we choose. We choose to live in a Black neighborhood. But why????
I never speak about this, because it makes me uncomfortable.... But I'm a Dentist. I attended a PWI school. They gave me money. And out of 98 students in my class, 3 of us were Black. Dental school in itself is stressful. But adding the extra pressure of being a Black female..... I felt like I was pledging and hazed for 4 years. The other 2 Black students were a couple and for some reason we weren't friends. If I wanted friends, they would have to be white. But white people never let you forget who is white and who isn't. My best friends included a girl who was considered PWT and the only Muslim person. That's it. So many jokes were made at my expense. I was touched, without permission, by a white male because he wanted to know if I was “thick” or just fat. He learned the term and was itching to use it. Another dude was certain I had a clutch of children somewhere. Never mind we were the same age. And he felt he was too young to have children. They did birthday celebrations for every student, they served chitterlings for my celebration. They were surprised I was offended and didn't partake. None of the 3 did. They served fried chicken for the other female and ribs for the other male. They just knew I and the other Black female could sing. And the Black man, they knew he could hoop and rap. My parents attended an event, and they were shocked that they'd been married and that I knew my father. They asked my parents if this was their 1st time at a university. My parents both hold advanced degrees and met in college. We 3 Black people attended a xmas party that was thrown out of fees that we were required to contribute to the class. We sat at the same table the entire event and only left each other to get food. We chose not to drink because knew something was going to happen. I have never seen a party this wild at 3pm. These white people drank and trashed the bar while the owners and staff looked on and said nothing. But at the end of the event, the 3 Black people were held by the police. They didn't know my Daddy. I called him when the event got out of hand. And he, his attorney, and the media showed up as they were trying to force us into a police car. I could go on.... I have 4 years of hell that I endured all for a degree that I don't use. I actually considered withdrawing, but the dean of the school... the mfing DEAN... told me I'd be better suited as a hair dresser. That's why I stayed. To show forth and prove my power. But to whom? And for what? So when I say that I as a Black person want my home.... my sanctuary.... my respite..... to be with other Black folks, I have my reasons.
When I moved to GA with my late 1st husband, we lived in an apartment complex were the people were VERY diverse. There were all kinds of people there. one evening, the Confederate flag waving white people would have bbq's in non-bbq areas and dare the staff to challenge them. I called the police, because I needed to move my car and they refused while shouting racial epithets at me. When the police came, they forced them to allow me passage, but didn't stop their shindig. When my husband got home, the party was still going strong. He decided to park his car and walk to the apartment. But that caused him to have to walk through the actual bbq. They assumed he was mine... not husband but baby daddy. Since we were the only Black people living in that section and they called me all manner of whore and slut, because they were mad that I had the audacity to call the police on them. I was sure of 2 things then... (a) I didn't want to ever live in an apartment complex again and (b) I didn't want to live in a mixed community. And I've not.
A Black friend of mine moved here from NJ. She and her family had 2 requirements: a house away from the city and a white neighborhood because they wanted good schools. Again, she didn't realize that good = white. The ratings are based on amounts of minorities and by having her children in said schools, she was lowering their ratings. So she and her husband bought. The first xmas she put out decorations. It was a Santa and reindeer and some big candles. It wasn't over the top and more importantly it was similar to what her neighbors put up. Night 1: they were turned upside down. They put them back upright. They assumed weather was the culprit. Really? Night 3: they were grafitti'ed... now if only Black people do that, and they were the only Black people in the neighborhood, what went wrong here? When they called the police, they were asked if possibly their own children did it. After much cleaning they put their decorations back up. Night 5: they drove to their church (dad is a UM preacher so....) for a xmas concert and when they got back, the decoration were on fire. Draw the most logical conclusions. And again the police did nothing. They eventually moved.
Why would you force yourself into a neighborhood where are aren't wanted and spend your gold to prove your worthiness? If it's lifestyle, there are upscale Black neighborhoods. And bougie Black people are a trip. Your tax dollars pay the police to treat you like a criminal. And the schools to categorize your child. My Realtor lives in a Black neighborhood but sends her baby to a white school. They called and told her that they were suspending her son for threatening another child. Not for actually beating the boy's ass, but threatening to. I was with her when she got the call. She was 38 hot. She started talking to herself and randomly pacing. When her husband went to the school to pick the boy up.... He found they accused his son erroneously. The son has a “white” sounding name. A white child threatened the boy, but they just assumed it was the Black boy with the same name. No apologies have been issued as of this writing.
When I bought a home with my 1st husband, it was a beautiful home in a beautiful neighborhood. A beautiful Black neighborhood. Minimal crime. Folks kept their homes up. It was a real community. So the premise that All Black folks live in the projects is way off. I grew up in a home that my parents owned in a Black neighborhood. Most of my neighbors and friends, all lived similarly. My upbringing was more Huxtables than it was Evans. The home my current 7 and I are considering is again a nice home in a nice Black neighborhood. I work all day for and with white folks. I'm not playing nice at home.
Another issue that people don't consider is if you are a Black person living in a white neighborhood, you are not going to have useful amenities. Black and white people are different and have different needs. Hair product, Hair salons, barber shops, churches, funeral homes, make up, certain foods.... All these things you will have to travel to Black neighborhood to get.
I guess the gist of this long assed rant that I'm calling a build... is just because it's white... doesn't make it superior. You drank the fucking Kool-aid if you think it does.... you either need to reconsider your thinking or get the fuck on.
Peace
I am really sick of folks that drink the Kool-Aid and ask for more.....
Me and the 7 are looking into purchasing a home. We got pre-approved for a nice sum. But even with the amount that we were approved for we have been looking for a house that is in an Original neighborhood. Those homes are cheaper, because Black neighborhoods are considered bad regardless of the reality. That's what I want. I'm Black. Why would I not want to live in an exclusively Black neighborhood?
So my Kool-Aid loving Black friends are like... “Why do you want to do that to yourself?” and “Don't you want to live in a nice neighborhood?” This one is my favorite, “What about the resale value of your property?” Really... damnit ... REALLY?????
The 7 had concerns too, but just for a second. He was concerned about the low rating of schools for children we don't have. His thinking was... if the children are knuckleheads then they will be wilding out all up and through. I love him. So I forgive him for that.
Here is the thing.... For a neighborhood to be considered bad, and consequently the schools.... they must have a qualifying factor. That qualifying factor is minorities. If minorities are present it brings the property value down. This is why white folks claim they don't want Black folks living in their neighborhoods. Fine to work, just don't live there. Yes there are other things that bring it down, but those things are usually associated.... WRONGFULLY...with minorities. So.... if there are 10 homes on a city Block and 9 of them are occupied with white people and 1 home is occupied with Black people, then the value of the neighborhood is reduced significantly. The same goes for schools. The more minorities in the school, the lower the rating.
What that means for me as a Black person, as a member of a Black family, is that my presence alone is enough to cause a neighborhood to decline. What am I supposed to do with that? Nothing I can do. I can't stop being Black. And more importantly, I don't care. I didn't make that rule, I'm not going to play a game that is designed for me to lose. We work good square jobs. We have enough money to damn live anywhere. We will buy where we choose. We choose to live in a Black neighborhood. But why????
I never speak about this, because it makes me uncomfortable.... But I'm a Dentist. I attended a PWI school. They gave me money. And out of 98 students in my class, 3 of us were Black. Dental school in itself is stressful. But adding the extra pressure of being a Black female..... I felt like I was pledging and hazed for 4 years. The other 2 Black students were a couple and for some reason we weren't friends. If I wanted friends, they would have to be white. But white people never let you forget who is white and who isn't. My best friends included a girl who was considered PWT and the only Muslim person. That's it. So many jokes were made at my expense. I was touched, without permission, by a white male because he wanted to know if I was “thick” or just fat. He learned the term and was itching to use it. Another dude was certain I had a clutch of children somewhere. Never mind we were the same age. And he felt he was too young to have children. They did birthday celebrations for every student, they served chitterlings for my celebration. They were surprised I was offended and didn't partake. None of the 3 did. They served fried chicken for the other female and ribs for the other male. They just knew I and the other Black female could sing. And the Black man, they knew he could hoop and rap. My parents attended an event, and they were shocked that they'd been married and that I knew my father. They asked my parents if this was their 1st time at a university. My parents both hold advanced degrees and met in college. We 3 Black people attended a xmas party that was thrown out of fees that we were required to contribute to the class. We sat at the same table the entire event and only left each other to get food. We chose not to drink because knew something was going to happen. I have never seen a party this wild at 3pm. These white people drank and trashed the bar while the owners and staff looked on and said nothing. But at the end of the event, the 3 Black people were held by the police. They didn't know my Daddy. I called him when the event got out of hand. And he, his attorney, and the media showed up as they were trying to force us into a police car. I could go on.... I have 4 years of hell that I endured all for a degree that I don't use. I actually considered withdrawing, but the dean of the school... the mfing DEAN... told me I'd be better suited as a hair dresser. That's why I stayed. To show forth and prove my power. But to whom? And for what? So when I say that I as a Black person want my home.... my sanctuary.... my respite..... to be with other Black folks, I have my reasons.
When I moved to GA with my late 1st husband, we lived in an apartment complex were the people were VERY diverse. There were all kinds of people there. one evening, the Confederate flag waving white people would have bbq's in non-bbq areas and dare the staff to challenge them. I called the police, because I needed to move my car and they refused while shouting racial epithets at me. When the police came, they forced them to allow me passage, but didn't stop their shindig. When my husband got home, the party was still going strong. He decided to park his car and walk to the apartment. But that caused him to have to walk through the actual bbq. They assumed he was mine... not husband but baby daddy. Since we were the only Black people living in that section and they called me all manner of whore and slut, because they were mad that I had the audacity to call the police on them. I was sure of 2 things then... (a) I didn't want to ever live in an apartment complex again and (b) I didn't want to live in a mixed community. And I've not.
A Black friend of mine moved here from NJ. She and her family had 2 requirements: a house away from the city and a white neighborhood because they wanted good schools. Again, she didn't realize that good = white. The ratings are based on amounts of minorities and by having her children in said schools, she was lowering their ratings. So she and her husband bought. The first xmas she put out decorations. It was a Santa and reindeer and some big candles. It wasn't over the top and more importantly it was similar to what her neighbors put up. Night 1: they were turned upside down. They put them back upright. They assumed weather was the culprit. Really? Night 3: they were grafitti'ed... now if only Black people do that, and they were the only Black people in the neighborhood, what went wrong here? When they called the police, they were asked if possibly their own children did it. After much cleaning they put their decorations back up. Night 5: they drove to their church (dad is a UM preacher so....) for a xmas concert and when they got back, the decoration were on fire. Draw the most logical conclusions. And again the police did nothing. They eventually moved.
Why would you force yourself into a neighborhood where are aren't wanted and spend your gold to prove your worthiness? If it's lifestyle, there are upscale Black neighborhoods. And bougie Black people are a trip. Your tax dollars pay the police to treat you like a criminal. And the schools to categorize your child. My Realtor lives in a Black neighborhood but sends her baby to a white school. They called and told her that they were suspending her son for threatening another child. Not for actually beating the boy's ass, but threatening to. I was with her when she got the call. She was 38 hot. She started talking to herself and randomly pacing. When her husband went to the school to pick the boy up.... He found they accused his son erroneously. The son has a “white” sounding name. A white child threatened the boy, but they just assumed it was the Black boy with the same name. No apologies have been issued as of this writing.
When I bought a home with my 1st husband, it was a beautiful home in a beautiful neighborhood. A beautiful Black neighborhood. Minimal crime. Folks kept their homes up. It was a real community. So the premise that All Black folks live in the projects is way off. I grew up in a home that my parents owned in a Black neighborhood. Most of my neighbors and friends, all lived similarly. My upbringing was more Huxtables than it was Evans. The home my current 7 and I are considering is again a nice home in a nice Black neighborhood. I work all day for and with white folks. I'm not playing nice at home.
Another issue that people don't consider is if you are a Black person living in a white neighborhood, you are not going to have useful amenities. Black and white people are different and have different needs. Hair product, Hair salons, barber shops, churches, funeral homes, make up, certain foods.... All these things you will have to travel to Black neighborhood to get.
I guess the gist of this long assed rant that I'm calling a build... is just because it's white... doesn't make it superior. You drank the fucking Kool-aid if you think it does.... you either need to reconsider your thinking or get the fuck on.
Peace
Monday, October 19, 2015
Successful Relationships
Peace!
I don't know why people aren't more successful at relationships. Wait... I do know. And I'm going to put it all out there in this Build.
One reason why folks are unhappy in relationships is because they want stuff that doesn't go together. If you want a partner who has money, unless you find one who inherited wealth or hit the number, then s/he is not going to be super available. S/He has to work. Ladies and Gentlemen... You are not allowed to complain that your spouse/lover/partner works too much. You just can't. It's not allowed. On the flip side, If you want a partner that is super attractive, then their part time job is themselves. They aren't cooking for you and they aren't cleaning for you, they are working out and spending money on clothes, nails, facials, etc. It's how it works. You can't have your woman all freaky with a low man count. It doesn't work like that. You can't have a skinny chick that can cook her ass off. Doesn't go together. And you can't have a man with no hang ups that has baby mamas. You have to be super honest about what you want and what you're willing to put up with.
Second reason people ain't happy with the partner they have is they don't realize that when you are in a committed relationship... your partner is the numero uno. Not your homie, not your mama, not your best friend. Allowing other people in your relationship is synonymous with cheating. You ARE cheating, though. You are sharing affections with other people. You need to be "all in" "ride or die" with your partner and no one else. You need to put your partner above your children... if they are the parent of said children. If they are not the parent then the water becomes murky. You now have the only allowed 2 primary relationship situation. But if you and your partner are parents of the same children... then your relationship comes 1st. Them kids gonna be alright as long as y'all alright. One day those kids are going to leave, and if you really don't know who this other person is in your house, problems will arise.
Also, never argue with your partner in public. And never argue dirty. Anything you say to your partner will NEVER be forgotten. I have memories of how my 1st husband fought dirty he's been dead for 13 years. I would never argue with him in public. Not never. I would never discuss him with my friends or family. I would never borrow money from other people because I saw it as a disgrace that he couldn't take care of us. Our business was just that. Ours! And when we argued... oh, I could have said some hurtful shit. But I held back. And now I'm super satisfied that I always represented him well.
So folks, I've just fixed all your relationship problems. Your life should be all gravy from here on out.
Peace
I don't know why people aren't more successful at relationships. Wait... I do know. And I'm going to put it all out there in this Build.
One reason why folks are unhappy in relationships is because they want stuff that doesn't go together. If you want a partner who has money, unless you find one who inherited wealth or hit the number, then s/he is not going to be super available. S/He has to work. Ladies and Gentlemen... You are not allowed to complain that your spouse/lover/partner works too much. You just can't. It's not allowed. On the flip side, If you want a partner that is super attractive, then their part time job is themselves. They aren't cooking for you and they aren't cleaning for you, they are working out and spending money on clothes, nails, facials, etc. It's how it works. You can't have your woman all freaky with a low man count. It doesn't work like that. You can't have a skinny chick that can cook her ass off. Doesn't go together. And you can't have a man with no hang ups that has baby mamas. You have to be super honest about what you want and what you're willing to put up with.
Second reason people ain't happy with the partner they have is they don't realize that when you are in a committed relationship... your partner is the numero uno. Not your homie, not your mama, not your best friend. Allowing other people in your relationship is synonymous with cheating. You ARE cheating, though. You are sharing affections with other people. You need to be "all in" "ride or die" with your partner and no one else. You need to put your partner above your children... if they are the parent of said children. If they are not the parent then the water becomes murky. You now have the only allowed 2 primary relationship situation. But if you and your partner are parents of the same children... then your relationship comes 1st. Them kids gonna be alright as long as y'all alright. One day those kids are going to leave, and if you really don't know who this other person is in your house, problems will arise.
Also, never argue with your partner in public. And never argue dirty. Anything you say to your partner will NEVER be forgotten. I have memories of how my 1st husband fought dirty he's been dead for 13 years. I would never argue with him in public. Not never. I would never discuss him with my friends or family. I would never borrow money from other people because I saw it as a disgrace that he couldn't take care of us. Our business was just that. Ours! And when we argued... oh, I could have said some hurtful shit. But I held back. And now I'm super satisfied that I always represented him well.
So folks, I've just fixed all your relationship problems. Your life should be all gravy from here on out.
Peace
Monday, August 31, 2015
Big Girl Problems....
Peace.
I'm super stressed y'all. I have no idea what to do about it. I wanna just bury my head in the sand, but I know I can't.... My mother is sick. Like really sick... or is she?
My mother is 77. A woman that age, with her lifestyle... and by lifestyle, I mean my mother would get diagnosed with some illness like diabetes and continue to eat what she wanted because she had a pill that would keep her from dying. Same with her high blood pressure, her congestive heart disease, her vertigo, her knee replacement, her sleep apnea, her everything. And she would scoff at doctors who would tell her to change her habits. So my mom is now really kind of debilitated.
Here is the thing.... I have asked her to move to Georgia and live with me. She has refused. My mother and I don't get along... We never have. Asking her to live with me was as crushing to me as it would be if she actually did move in with me. She doesn't have dementia... she gets tested yearly... so she gets to make her own decisions about how she wants to live her life. I have made suggestions that she should move into an independent care facility. That's not a nursing home. It's a spot where other old people live. It would give me some peace because folks would be paying attention to whether or not she's still alive. She can bring her own car and do just as much or as little as she wants. She owns 2 homes and instead of selling them, she can get a property management company to manage them and use the rental money to pay for her housing arrangements. Plus she was a teacher. She makes more retired than I make working. But... She refuses to listen to me. She'll listen to anyone else but me..
This is what she wants... She wants me to move.. just me and not the God... to SC and live with her waiting on her hand and foot. I owe it to her for raising me, I suppose. I don't want to do that. I'm NOT doing that. I have lived in GA for 16 years. I have a job that I've held for 12 years. I have a home here. The 7 has a job that he loves here that he plans to retire from. I've never lived in SC, other than to attend college. That experience was enough to assure that I was not ever going to live permanently in SC. Between her and me, she's the most mobile. She's not working. She can live in a senior home here in Atlanta. Why am I expected to uproot my life?
But is she as sick as she says? When I talk to her she ALWAYS sound like she's about to die. But if I call her from a different phone she sounds normal and coherent. Once she realizes it's me she goes into sounding sick.
Talking to my mother has never been easy. We are completely different. My mother is a master manipulator. I've seen it. So I will never trust anything that she says, She faked a diabetic episode in front of a bunch of people to make me look bad. It was at a family reunion that she was mad at me because it wouldn't go pick her up. Like I said... we don't really like each other. She wanted me to drive 4 hours to her house to pick her up, then drive another 4 hours to the reunion. I know my mother, she would have me running her errands all while complaining that I was a horrible disappointment to her. It was only a 2 hour drive from my house to the reunion hotel. So to prove to me that I was indeed a horrible daughter she faked a diabetic episode while at lunch. Here is the thing... diabetics don't have those episodes while eating. They have them when their blood sugar is low. She had everyone but me going, including the wait staff. I asked for a doggie bag and she instantly snapped out of her seizure to tell me to leave the food right where it was. My mother HATES doggie bags. That's when she was busted. And all the people at the table saw it.
Another annoying thing about our relationship is she lies. I hate to say that about my mother, but it's true. I HATE to take any gift that she offers because she will misconstrue to the people in her Cipher as support. And for some reason, these people will call me and voice their displeasure. Her boyfriend called me one day all pissed because of something and he said, “you have your mother paying your bills.” This was news to me. I asked “What bills?” My birthday is November so there was a check for that and she sent me another check for Christmas. It's crazy. My mother disliked my brother's wife so much, and got one her friends all riled up and the woman went into my sil's job and started a physical fight with her. SMH.... And these people being my mother's friends are like aunties. You feel like you gotta respect them even though they are way out of their lane.
My brother... the love of her life (her words, not mine).... died in May. She's not taking it well. And that's expected. All of her plans were as such... Everything she owns goes to him. Yup. All of it. He's older. She said he “would do right by me.” I have always known this. I told you we don't get along. She has been telling me, since he turned 18 that he would see to my care. I was 8 at the time and my father was very much alive and involved in my life. But she set my brother up to be my legal guardian if something happened to her? Hell! She wasn't my legal guardian! Anywho... she claimed that she needed to change her will so that I could inherit her stuff. She still doesn't like my sil. OK. Why I gotta be there for that? I cannot run up and down I20 every time my mother says boo.
So my mother is sitting in her home holding court... the center of all folks attention. And she is dogging me out, because that will bring her more attention. She telling folks I refuse to visit. I've been there 3 times since my brother died. My cousin want to use her home as a pit stop for all her indigent friends. Cousin thinks that the best option. But it isn't her decision to make. She acts like she doesn't know that. But who knows what my mother has said to her? All the rest of the SC family thinks I'm a horrible person for not giving up my life for hers. I get daily phone abuse. I can't ignore the phone calls because it might actually be one of her doctors or an emergency.
I'm doing all I know how to do. I feel like it's not enough. But I'm not going to drive myself crazy over something that has no resolution. But it's still keeping me up at night.
Thanks for reading.
****Sigh****
Peace
I'm super stressed y'all. I have no idea what to do about it. I wanna just bury my head in the sand, but I know I can't.... My mother is sick. Like really sick... or is she?
My mother is 77. A woman that age, with her lifestyle... and by lifestyle, I mean my mother would get diagnosed with some illness like diabetes and continue to eat what she wanted because she had a pill that would keep her from dying. Same with her high blood pressure, her congestive heart disease, her vertigo, her knee replacement, her sleep apnea, her everything. And she would scoff at doctors who would tell her to change her habits. So my mom is now really kind of debilitated.
Here is the thing.... I have asked her to move to Georgia and live with me. She has refused. My mother and I don't get along... We never have. Asking her to live with me was as crushing to me as it would be if she actually did move in with me. She doesn't have dementia... she gets tested yearly... so she gets to make her own decisions about how she wants to live her life. I have made suggestions that she should move into an independent care facility. That's not a nursing home. It's a spot where other old people live. It would give me some peace because folks would be paying attention to whether or not she's still alive. She can bring her own car and do just as much or as little as she wants. She owns 2 homes and instead of selling them, she can get a property management company to manage them and use the rental money to pay for her housing arrangements. Plus she was a teacher. She makes more retired than I make working. But... She refuses to listen to me. She'll listen to anyone else but me..
This is what she wants... She wants me to move.. just me and not the God... to SC and live with her waiting on her hand and foot. I owe it to her for raising me, I suppose. I don't want to do that. I'm NOT doing that. I have lived in GA for 16 years. I have a job that I've held for 12 years. I have a home here. The 7 has a job that he loves here that he plans to retire from. I've never lived in SC, other than to attend college. That experience was enough to assure that I was not ever going to live permanently in SC. Between her and me, she's the most mobile. She's not working. She can live in a senior home here in Atlanta. Why am I expected to uproot my life?
But is she as sick as she says? When I talk to her she ALWAYS sound like she's about to die. But if I call her from a different phone she sounds normal and coherent. Once she realizes it's me she goes into sounding sick.
Talking to my mother has never been easy. We are completely different. My mother is a master manipulator. I've seen it. So I will never trust anything that she says, She faked a diabetic episode in front of a bunch of people to make me look bad. It was at a family reunion that she was mad at me because it wouldn't go pick her up. Like I said... we don't really like each other. She wanted me to drive 4 hours to her house to pick her up, then drive another 4 hours to the reunion. I know my mother, she would have me running her errands all while complaining that I was a horrible disappointment to her. It was only a 2 hour drive from my house to the reunion hotel. So to prove to me that I was indeed a horrible daughter she faked a diabetic episode while at lunch. Here is the thing... diabetics don't have those episodes while eating. They have them when their blood sugar is low. She had everyone but me going, including the wait staff. I asked for a doggie bag and she instantly snapped out of her seizure to tell me to leave the food right where it was. My mother HATES doggie bags. That's when she was busted. And all the people at the table saw it.
Another annoying thing about our relationship is she lies. I hate to say that about my mother, but it's true. I HATE to take any gift that she offers because she will misconstrue to the people in her Cipher as support. And for some reason, these people will call me and voice their displeasure. Her boyfriend called me one day all pissed because of something and he said, “you have your mother paying your bills.” This was news to me. I asked “What bills?” My birthday is November so there was a check for that and she sent me another check for Christmas. It's crazy. My mother disliked my brother's wife so much, and got one her friends all riled up and the woman went into my sil's job and started a physical fight with her. SMH.... And these people being my mother's friends are like aunties. You feel like you gotta respect them even though they are way out of their lane.
My brother... the love of her life (her words, not mine).... died in May. She's not taking it well. And that's expected. All of her plans were as such... Everything she owns goes to him. Yup. All of it. He's older. She said he “would do right by me.” I have always known this. I told you we don't get along. She has been telling me, since he turned 18 that he would see to my care. I was 8 at the time and my father was very much alive and involved in my life. But she set my brother up to be my legal guardian if something happened to her? Hell! She wasn't my legal guardian! Anywho... she claimed that she needed to change her will so that I could inherit her stuff. She still doesn't like my sil. OK. Why I gotta be there for that? I cannot run up and down I20 every time my mother says boo.
So my mother is sitting in her home holding court... the center of all folks attention. And she is dogging me out, because that will bring her more attention. She telling folks I refuse to visit. I've been there 3 times since my brother died. My cousin want to use her home as a pit stop for all her indigent friends. Cousin thinks that the best option. But it isn't her decision to make. She acts like she doesn't know that. But who knows what my mother has said to her? All the rest of the SC family thinks I'm a horrible person for not giving up my life for hers. I get daily phone abuse. I can't ignore the phone calls because it might actually be one of her doctors or an emergency.
I'm doing all I know how to do. I feel like it's not enough. But I'm not going to drive myself crazy over something that has no resolution. But it's still keeping me up at night.
Thanks for reading.
****Sigh****
Peace
Tuesday, August 4, 2015
Cultural Misappropriation?
Peace!
This is a trend that I have been watching for a moment now. It's also something I have been giving serious consideration to....
Currently “tribal prints” and “ankara” are trending. In regular-speak, African prints. They are all over the runways. And when that happens, white folks pick it up. Well I can't stand seeing white people in African print. It's not for them. But guess what? As a Black-American, I don't touch Native American Culture... it's not mine, Indian culture... it's not mine, Asian Culture... it's not mine. As much as I would love to wear a sari, I won't. Africans don't like any non-Africans wearing their tribal prints. Not even Black Americans. Apparently, it's not for us either.
I've had the experience of wearing an “African outfit” and some Africans getting all up in my grill. They were what I'd call aggressive. (I've been told that's how they interact and there isn't hostility there) They flat out told me to not wear the print unless it was a special occasion. Work didn't qualify as a special occasion. Hmm....
Another time I was in an African store that sold fabric (along with other things). When I took some fabric to the counter to be cut, the owner asked me what was I going to do with it. I told her I was planning to make a skirt. She asked where I was planning to wear said skirt. That earned her a side eye. How is this her business? But I went along and answered her. I said to work. She shook her head and said the fabric was too special for that. So before she cut it, I gave her an option... either cut it, make the sale and stop trippin' about what I'm a do with it, or..... keep it in the store. She sold it to me with no more conversation. I even get emails to let me know what they have on sale.
Here is my question... If you don't want folks wearing your stuff.... Why sell it? What the hell do you think folks are going to do with 2 yards of ankara print?
I have often wondered what Africans feel when they see Black Americans wearing their print. I see why white folks should be shunned, But us too? I know we aren't Africans... but Really??? It makes sense on paper, but the Reality of things is you don't know a pigmented person is Purely African unless they say so.
I get skeeved out when I see white folks practice Hoodoo, Santaria, Palo, Vodun, or any of the ATRs. I mentioned that I don't like to see white people wearing African print. I don't like them wearing dreadlocks or cornrows either. I don't acknowledge white rappers... well maybe 3rd Base, but that's it! And Rachel Dolezal....? I can't ! White people have a track record of stealing culture, bastardizing it and then selling it back to us for a profit. But Black people don't do that....Can't do that... we do not HAVE the power to do that. All we can do is advertise. I wonder what they think when Rihana... who is not African, but West Indian.... wears their print?
Beyonce wears a lot of ankara too.... 
But that might be different since they are famous. Famous people get passes for all sorts of things...
This is how I see this.... Since Africans have these issues, I won't buy it anymore. But I will use what I have in my stash. But if Africans wanna be truly Gully about preserving their traditions.... then don't sell it. Being on this end of the controversy is interesting.
Peace
http://www.mycoloures.com/2014/10/culture-is-not-costume-why-non-africans.html?showComment=1438695661638#c7875778901119616792
http://www.culturepattern.com/blog/2014/10/opinion-cultural-appropriation-black-americans/
This is a trend that I have been watching for a moment now. It's also something I have been giving serious consideration to....
Currently “tribal prints” and “ankara” are trending. In regular-speak, African prints. They are all over the runways. And when that happens, white folks pick it up. Well I can't stand seeing white people in African print. It's not for them. But guess what? As a Black-American, I don't touch Native American Culture... it's not mine, Indian culture... it's not mine, Asian Culture... it's not mine. As much as I would love to wear a sari, I won't. Africans don't like any non-Africans wearing their tribal prints. Not even Black Americans. Apparently, it's not for us either.
I've had the experience of wearing an “African outfit” and some Africans getting all up in my grill. They were what I'd call aggressive. (I've been told that's how they interact and there isn't hostility there) They flat out told me to not wear the print unless it was a special occasion. Work didn't qualify as a special occasion. Hmm....
Another time I was in an African store that sold fabric (along with other things). When I took some fabric to the counter to be cut, the owner asked me what was I going to do with it. I told her I was planning to make a skirt. She asked where I was planning to wear said skirt. That earned her a side eye. How is this her business? But I went along and answered her. I said to work. She shook her head and said the fabric was too special for that. So before she cut it, I gave her an option... either cut it, make the sale and stop trippin' about what I'm a do with it, or..... keep it in the store. She sold it to me with no more conversation. I even get emails to let me know what they have on sale.
Here is my question... If you don't want folks wearing your stuff.... Why sell it? What the hell do you think folks are going to do with 2 yards of ankara print?
I have often wondered what Africans feel when they see Black Americans wearing their print. I see why white folks should be shunned, But us too? I know we aren't Africans... but Really??? It makes sense on paper, but the Reality of things is you don't know a pigmented person is Purely African unless they say so.
I get skeeved out when I see white folks practice Hoodoo, Santaria, Palo, Vodun, or any of the ATRs. I mentioned that I don't like to see white people wearing African print. I don't like them wearing dreadlocks or cornrows either. I don't acknowledge white rappers... well maybe 3rd Base, but that's it! And Rachel Dolezal....? I can't ! White people have a track record of stealing culture, bastardizing it and then selling it back to us for a profit. But Black people don't do that....Can't do that... we do not HAVE the power to do that. All we can do is advertise. I wonder what they think when Rihana... who is not African, but West Indian.... wears their print?
Beyonce wears a lot of ankara too.... But that might be different since they are famous. Famous people get passes for all sorts of things...This is how I see this.... Since Africans have these issues, I won't buy it anymore. But I will use what I have in my stash. But if Africans wanna be truly Gully about preserving their traditions.... then don't sell it. Being on this end of the controversy is interesting.
Peace
http://www.mycoloures.com/2014/10/culture-is-not-costume-why-non-africans.html?showComment=1438695661638#c7875778901119616792
http://www.culturepattern.com/blog/2014/10/opinion-cultural-appropriation-black-americans/
Wednesday, July 22, 2015
Me
Peace...
No one wants me to be myself. Apparently, myself scares a lot of people or creeps them out.
I am frequently accused of being mean, unapproachable, and scary. I really don't get why that is. I don't think I am. I think I'm just me. But my mother says everyone can't be wrong.
My mother is my primary example. She has never accepted me as is. One of the reasons we don't gel. I don't know what unconditional love is. Never had it. Now that I'm older and I don't need her for necessities, it makes that aspect of our relationship more pronounced.
Consequently, I put on appearances for people. Not all people, just people who I HAVE to deal with. If I need something from you, I'll examine you to figure the best approach. Clients always get a polite me. I can tell when folks are being shady. And the moment our business has concluded... especially so if I KNOW you aren't going to do more business... I get real. Most people can't handle that. I don't know why. It's not nasty. But when we are done you will know you have been dismissed and by me.
The only people who have ever given me feedback are exes. And they can't be trusted or they wouldn't be exes. Other "friends" will tell me that they have been busy and will call me later. But these exes tell me I'm too intense. I require too much of them. And not anything that can be tangibly qualified. They feel like they MUST be men in my presence. They are exhausted once they leave me. I don't know how to take that.
The people who know me as I am and yet accept me... are my dearest friends. Seriously. They've been my friends for years. The newest person to accept me just as I am is my God. And he did that more than 7 years ago. So you can see I go through friends like folks go thru soda. It is what it is.
But what's so wrong with me that people can't accept me? I don't smell. I don't ask for favors. I don't borrow money. It doesn't cost anybody anything to be cool with me. Hmmm.... I'm not losing sleep dwelling on it. It came through my mental.
I thought I'd share....
Peace
No one wants me to be myself. Apparently, myself scares a lot of people or creeps them out.
I am frequently accused of being mean, unapproachable, and scary. I really don't get why that is. I don't think I am. I think I'm just me. But my mother says everyone can't be wrong.
My mother is my primary example. She has never accepted me as is. One of the reasons we don't gel. I don't know what unconditional love is. Never had it. Now that I'm older and I don't need her for necessities, it makes that aspect of our relationship more pronounced.
Consequently, I put on appearances for people. Not all people, just people who I HAVE to deal with. If I need something from you, I'll examine you to figure the best approach. Clients always get a polite me. I can tell when folks are being shady. And the moment our business has concluded... especially so if I KNOW you aren't going to do more business... I get real. Most people can't handle that. I don't know why. It's not nasty. But when we are done you will know you have been dismissed and by me.
The only people who have ever given me feedback are exes. And they can't be trusted or they wouldn't be exes. Other "friends" will tell me that they have been busy and will call me later. But these exes tell me I'm too intense. I require too much of them. And not anything that can be tangibly qualified. They feel like they MUST be men in my presence. They are exhausted once they leave me. I don't know how to take that.
The people who know me as I am and yet accept me... are my dearest friends. Seriously. They've been my friends for years. The newest person to accept me just as I am is my God. And he did that more than 7 years ago. So you can see I go through friends like folks go thru soda. It is what it is.
But what's so wrong with me that people can't accept me? I don't smell. I don't ask for favors. I don't borrow money. It doesn't cost anybody anything to be cool with me. Hmmm.... I'm not losing sleep dwelling on it. It came through my mental.
I thought I'd share....
Peace
Tuesday, June 23, 2015
Pretty Is as Pretty Does
Peace....
I was listening to the radio this morning. And it gave me confirmation of something I kinda always suspected....
Rickey Smiley was on the radio talking about a man who was marrying a billionaire female for her money. Apparently, she wasn't all that pretty. The men on the show were calling her downright ugly. They also said they would never be able to get it up to do her on the regular. So even though she was rich, they wouldn't hit that long term because she was ugly.... WOOOOOW...
On the Real Housewife franchises... not the Atlanta, but all the others.... I have often wondered how these women got the come up. Many of them don't have an education passed the 12th grade. And if they do, it's like their hairdressers or sell real estate. Not knocking those trades but it's not like thy are balling. They weren't born rich; which means they married rich. Example... the “Countess.” Why would a rich man want these particular women above, IMO, other woman? Because they are pretty.
It seems so archaic on paper, but pretty goes far in this world if you're a woman. I am a self proclaimed pretty girl (cute face, impressive B:W:H ratio)... but I'm also damned smart. If I wasn't smart and only pretty then I wouldn't have noticed this trend. I have a plethora of degrees and work as hard as my man. But no one ever asks me what I do. All they expect me to be, is pretty. Work questions are strictly for men. Men are defined by their jobs and income. (Also their height and dick game, but that's for another time) If a man doesn't have a good job... and by that I mean a job that meets all his expenses with a little or a lot left over. I'm not saying it's the type of job, but what he makes.... then he isn't a man really. Women, however, are not defined like this. She can have a job pulling down 7 figures, but if she's ugly, or doesn't have a man and children... she is a failure as a woman. But a pretty woman who doesn't have 2 pennies to rub together is always seen as potential.
Men act like women have it COMPLETELY easy. Well if she never leaves home I would agree. But if a woman goes out into the world then she is met with the same needs that men are met with. Providing food, clothing and shelter for themselves. But UNLIKE men, women make $0.75 to every one of their $1.
I have been told that as a woman, my life is easier. I can't answer that. I've never not been a woman. But men haven't been women either so how the fuck can they speak on it. When I have bills... if I don't have the money, the bill gets shut off. Just like a man's bills. (Remember women get paid less money than a man for the same work) Just because I'm in possession of a vagina doesn't mean my debts are forgiven. Men would argue to use my vagina to get said bills paid. How exactly does one do that? Shall I take a picture of my vagina and send it to bill collector in lieu of payment? And the bill collector says, “That's a mighty fine pussy. She don't have to pay her carnote this month.”? Are men suggesting I should prostitute myself for the bill money? That's too much like work in addition to being degrading and illegal.
Let's move on.....
Pretty women have it easier only because men want to fuck pretty women. Once he's fucked her the novelty wears off and he's off to the next pretty girl. So it's a lose/lose situation for the female regardless. So the goal MUST be if a pretty woman wants to prosper is to lead a man on for as long as possible without screwing him. But that would make the woman a golddigger. Why is it we have no names for men with issues? So we women have to play the tightrope balancing game with men. To not be so independent, yet be able to handle all the business at hand. Many of us fall.
My mother tried to tell me this, but she really couldn't. How does a good mother tell her daughter to just be pretty? Think about it. Mommie wanted me to be a strong independent woman capable of taking care of myself. Never dependent on a man for anything. She tried to convince me that I'm not pretty because honest work is easier. I get why she did that. But by instilling that in me, it is also instilling me a life of loneliness. Because hardworking + independent + Black woman = manlessness.
So what is my point of this build? I'm not advocating that women need to dumb themselves down to get a man. That's wholly unnecessary. But if she is smart, she needs to use that. Stay in the pretty lane, ladies. Keep your self up. Hair.. nails.. wardrobe.... makeup..... all the pretty girl accouterments. Keep that shit going hard. Because men are visual people and it's what attracts them. Once you have them... you gotta work even harder to keep your pretty game tight. It's harder now, because with men around, they will see you in all your non-pretty glory. That. Can't. Happen.
Trade that bonnet for satin pillow cases. Make him have his own bathroom that you don't use (so he won't use yours). Don't let him see the work that goes into pretty. And be high maintenance. The walkin closet is yours ladies. No other way about it. He doesn't need to see all that. Go in there pretty from sleep and emerge pretty from primping. That's all he needs to know.
You gotta develop other things that pretty to hold on to him. Pretty is like a net. It traps him, but it doesn't keep him. The other attributes locks a man in his gilded cage. Keep a tidy house and learn how to cook and really develop meals. Don't go to the store and get a rotisserie chicken and the them to KFC for the rest of the meal. A man could do that. You gotta go in that kitchen and cook food so good, he'll abandon his mama on the highway to get home to you. Then sit with him while he watches his favorite shows. And if its sports.... find something quiet to do at his side. I read.... Pretty is a big deal, but the other stuff are quietly more important. Remember, you cannot fuck a man into submission. Not long term. Their equipment at is not the same as it is at 20. IJS. You are going to need those other things. And women are not as pretty as a woman at 20. Pretty has a shelf life.
This is real talk........
You want that man? Don't fuck it up.
Peace
I was listening to the radio this morning. And it gave me confirmation of something I kinda always suspected....
Rickey Smiley was on the radio talking about a man who was marrying a billionaire female for her money. Apparently, she wasn't all that pretty. The men on the show were calling her downright ugly. They also said they would never be able to get it up to do her on the regular. So even though she was rich, they wouldn't hit that long term because she was ugly.... WOOOOOW...
On the Real Housewife franchises... not the Atlanta, but all the others.... I have often wondered how these women got the come up. Many of them don't have an education passed the 12th grade. And if they do, it's like their hairdressers or sell real estate. Not knocking those trades but it's not like thy are balling. They weren't born rich; which means they married rich. Example... the “Countess.” Why would a rich man want these particular women above, IMO, other woman? Because they are pretty.
It seems so archaic on paper, but pretty goes far in this world if you're a woman. I am a self proclaimed pretty girl (cute face, impressive B:W:H ratio)... but I'm also damned smart. If I wasn't smart and only pretty then I wouldn't have noticed this trend. I have a plethora of degrees and work as hard as my man. But no one ever asks me what I do. All they expect me to be, is pretty. Work questions are strictly for men. Men are defined by their jobs and income. (Also their height and dick game, but that's for another time) If a man doesn't have a good job... and by that I mean a job that meets all his expenses with a little or a lot left over. I'm not saying it's the type of job, but what he makes.... then he isn't a man really. Women, however, are not defined like this. She can have a job pulling down 7 figures, but if she's ugly, or doesn't have a man and children... she is a failure as a woman. But a pretty woman who doesn't have 2 pennies to rub together is always seen as potential.
Men act like women have it COMPLETELY easy. Well if she never leaves home I would agree. But if a woman goes out into the world then she is met with the same needs that men are met with. Providing food, clothing and shelter for themselves. But UNLIKE men, women make $0.75 to every one of their $1.
I have been told that as a woman, my life is easier. I can't answer that. I've never not been a woman. But men haven't been women either so how the fuck can they speak on it. When I have bills... if I don't have the money, the bill gets shut off. Just like a man's bills. (Remember women get paid less money than a man for the same work) Just because I'm in possession of a vagina doesn't mean my debts are forgiven. Men would argue to use my vagina to get said bills paid. How exactly does one do that? Shall I take a picture of my vagina and send it to bill collector in lieu of payment? And the bill collector says, “That's a mighty fine pussy. She don't have to pay her carnote this month.”? Are men suggesting I should prostitute myself for the bill money? That's too much like work in addition to being degrading and illegal.
Let's move on.....
Pretty women have it easier only because men want to fuck pretty women. Once he's fucked her the novelty wears off and he's off to the next pretty girl. So it's a lose/lose situation for the female regardless. So the goal MUST be if a pretty woman wants to prosper is to lead a man on for as long as possible without screwing him. But that would make the woman a golddigger. Why is it we have no names for men with issues? So we women have to play the tightrope balancing game with men. To not be so independent, yet be able to handle all the business at hand. Many of us fall.
My mother tried to tell me this, but she really couldn't. How does a good mother tell her daughter to just be pretty? Think about it. Mommie wanted me to be a strong independent woman capable of taking care of myself. Never dependent on a man for anything. She tried to convince me that I'm not pretty because honest work is easier. I get why she did that. But by instilling that in me, it is also instilling me a life of loneliness. Because hardworking + independent + Black woman = manlessness.
So what is my point of this build? I'm not advocating that women need to dumb themselves down to get a man. That's wholly unnecessary. But if she is smart, she needs to use that. Stay in the pretty lane, ladies. Keep your self up. Hair.. nails.. wardrobe.... makeup..... all the pretty girl accouterments. Keep that shit going hard. Because men are visual people and it's what attracts them. Once you have them... you gotta work even harder to keep your pretty game tight. It's harder now, because with men around, they will see you in all your non-pretty glory. That. Can't. Happen.
Trade that bonnet for satin pillow cases. Make him have his own bathroom that you don't use (so he won't use yours). Don't let him see the work that goes into pretty. And be high maintenance. The walkin closet is yours ladies. No other way about it. He doesn't need to see all that. Go in there pretty from sleep and emerge pretty from primping. That's all he needs to know.
You gotta develop other things that pretty to hold on to him. Pretty is like a net. It traps him, but it doesn't keep him. The other attributes locks a man in his gilded cage. Keep a tidy house and learn how to cook and really develop meals. Don't go to the store and get a rotisserie chicken and the them to KFC for the rest of the meal. A man could do that. You gotta go in that kitchen and cook food so good, he'll abandon his mama on the highway to get home to you. Then sit with him while he watches his favorite shows. And if its sports.... find something quiet to do at his side. I read.... Pretty is a big deal, but the other stuff are quietly more important. Remember, you cannot fuck a man into submission. Not long term. Their equipment at is not the same as it is at 20. IJS. You are going to need those other things. And women are not as pretty as a woman at 20. Pretty has a shelf life.
This is real talk........
You want that man? Don't fuck it up.
Peace
Thursday, June 18, 2015
Boon Coons and other things....
Peace.
I love what few friends I have. It's funny, I live in GA, but I don't have friends here. I have a few girls I can call and we may get together. But I'm talking about down-assed-ride-or-die friends that I don't have to explain myself to. I have those type of friends... They just aren't local. And I'm not a fair weather friend who only wants to know you when you are on top. I will be offended if they go through something and don't tell me. True friendship always goes back and forth.
It seems this is the season for my homies to be going through relationship issues. And it struck me how well I knew them. 2 of my friends' men were both doing the same thing and I instinctively knew how each would respond. And I was right. When another homie told me she left her man, she didn't have to tell me why. I knew. Another girlie was having relationship reservations and I knew what to say to make her feel better. She isn't comfortable in her own skin unless there is a man in the picture. So once I established that there wasn't another option, I could Build with her. All of this got me to thinking....
I must have a personality profile. All my friends have them. So must I. Do they deal with me based on that information? I rarely have relationship problems. I'm a cut-and-runner. If I realize that I'm in a relationship with a man, a female friend, an organization, etc. that doesn't serve me... I bounce. I give no notice. I just go. I don't put up with foolishness if I don't have to. I will break up with a man via text message. I've quit jobs like that too. I ain't one for fooling around. And I promise you I'm the 1st person gone when I smell a fight. I've seen enough fights. If it ain't me fighting, I'm gone. I've noticed that when I'm angry my friends will start explaining themselves. And I don't see them doing that with other people.
But it just put friendship into perspective for me. Everyone ain't capable of true friendship. I am a jokester too. You can come to me with your problems and I will clown you to death. But I'll also be right there with you in the process (still clowning) helping you out. One of my above listed friends was helping me move while cops were chasing us. She cursed at me like I was a rat stealing her last oiece of food, but she was also taking evasive maneuvers that had me gripping the “oh shit” bar. If we are true friends, it's not you or me it's we. Everyone in both ciphers knows that too. You ain't fighting without me at your back. You ain't road tripping without me in the passenger seat complaining about your taste in music. And if you borrow money from me... you better pay it back. I hate loaning money and my friends know this (I hate borrowing it too so it stays balanced). I assume if you ask... you need it. Also don't ask for what I can't give you. That's insulting. I once had a so-called friend who asked me for $500. I ain't got that to lend. She said she didn't need it... just wanted to see if I would lend it to her. We aren't friends anymore. I can't trust her. I don't need other folks counting my money for sport. And dropping her was easy. Just never called her again and stopped taking her calls.
I know my friends and accept their faults. I have whores for friends. What? They just can't be alone with my man. They give great sex advice and know all about STDs. I have thieves for friends. We don't hang at MY house. Or in my car. And when I go out with them... I only carry my keys. We still good. I have religious friends... though I'm not. I have educated friends that I really need to hang with more because them and my moneyed friends keep me on my game. Broke busted friends can make you too comfortable. One needs to travel in multiple ciphers to stay balanced. I even have men friends. Men friends are special. You can't be touchy-feely on them like you can your girls. And if you get drunk they WILL fuck you unless they're gay. And if they're gay, they may steal your purse. Male friends are good for telling you what men think. Flagrant gay male friends are good because they will up your style game. Gay female friends are good if you want to go out and not be hit on by men. And butch women can fight their asses off. So can flagrant gay men... go figure. I know my people. And they know me.
This build was cathartic. I was in my feelings about not having ride or die friends close by. But I realize I have just what I need. Whenever I have called on my homies they have been there for me and vice versa. They will pay their own money for airfare to make sure I'm ok. And I appreciate that. Yeah... I'm good.
Peace
I love what few friends I have. It's funny, I live in GA, but I don't have friends here. I have a few girls I can call and we may get together. But I'm talking about down-assed-ride-or-die friends that I don't have to explain myself to. I have those type of friends... They just aren't local. And I'm not a fair weather friend who only wants to know you when you are on top. I will be offended if they go through something and don't tell me. True friendship always goes back and forth.
It seems this is the season for my homies to be going through relationship issues. And it struck me how well I knew them. 2 of my friends' men were both doing the same thing and I instinctively knew how each would respond. And I was right. When another homie told me she left her man, she didn't have to tell me why. I knew. Another girlie was having relationship reservations and I knew what to say to make her feel better. She isn't comfortable in her own skin unless there is a man in the picture. So once I established that there wasn't another option, I could Build with her. All of this got me to thinking....
I must have a personality profile. All my friends have them. So must I. Do they deal with me based on that information? I rarely have relationship problems. I'm a cut-and-runner. If I realize that I'm in a relationship with a man, a female friend, an organization, etc. that doesn't serve me... I bounce. I give no notice. I just go. I don't put up with foolishness if I don't have to. I will break up with a man via text message. I've quit jobs like that too. I ain't one for fooling around. And I promise you I'm the 1st person gone when I smell a fight. I've seen enough fights. If it ain't me fighting, I'm gone. I've noticed that when I'm angry my friends will start explaining themselves. And I don't see them doing that with other people.
But it just put friendship into perspective for me. Everyone ain't capable of true friendship. I am a jokester too. You can come to me with your problems and I will clown you to death. But I'll also be right there with you in the process (still clowning) helping you out. One of my above listed friends was helping me move while cops were chasing us. She cursed at me like I was a rat stealing her last oiece of food, but she was also taking evasive maneuvers that had me gripping the “oh shit” bar. If we are true friends, it's not you or me it's we. Everyone in both ciphers knows that too. You ain't fighting without me at your back. You ain't road tripping without me in the passenger seat complaining about your taste in music. And if you borrow money from me... you better pay it back. I hate loaning money and my friends know this (I hate borrowing it too so it stays balanced). I assume if you ask... you need it. Also don't ask for what I can't give you. That's insulting. I once had a so-called friend who asked me for $500. I ain't got that to lend. She said she didn't need it... just wanted to see if I would lend it to her. We aren't friends anymore. I can't trust her. I don't need other folks counting my money for sport. And dropping her was easy. Just never called her again and stopped taking her calls.
I know my friends and accept their faults. I have whores for friends. What? They just can't be alone with my man. They give great sex advice and know all about STDs. I have thieves for friends. We don't hang at MY house. Or in my car. And when I go out with them... I only carry my keys. We still good. I have religious friends... though I'm not. I have educated friends that I really need to hang with more because them and my moneyed friends keep me on my game. Broke busted friends can make you too comfortable. One needs to travel in multiple ciphers to stay balanced. I even have men friends. Men friends are special. You can't be touchy-feely on them like you can your girls. And if you get drunk they WILL fuck you unless they're gay. And if they're gay, they may steal your purse. Male friends are good for telling you what men think. Flagrant gay male friends are good because they will up your style game. Gay female friends are good if you want to go out and not be hit on by men. And butch women can fight their asses off. So can flagrant gay men... go figure. I know my people. And they know me.
This build was cathartic. I was in my feelings about not having ride or die friends close by. But I realize I have just what I need. Whenever I have called on my homies they have been there for me and vice versa. They will pay their own money for airfare to make sure I'm ok. And I appreciate that. Yeah... I'm good.
Peace
Wednesday, June 17, 2015
Teach Me
Peace....
I'm teachable. The reason I say that is because there have been times in my life where I recognized that (a) I didn't know something and (b) took steps to rectify the issue. Examples....
When I was a little girl, I wanted to be a little boy. I can't say I identified as a boy because I liked a lot of the girl stuff. It's just that being a girl is an inconvenience compared to being a boy. IJS... Also I had a brother who I wanted to be just like. At some point, I realized that I liked being a girl and boys weren't so bad. But I realized around age 10 hadn't learned little intricacies of little girldom. I couldn't jump double dutch.
Double dutch is a big deal to little girls when and where I grew up. It defined you as a female. The better you jumped, the more worthier you were. I couldn't jump well. That didn't stop me from playing. But, if you know anything about DD, it meant I always had the end. After always having the end, I realized that I wasn't going to get better at jumping. I'd just be really good at turning.
That summer I scouted out some other chronic end-havers and the YMCA summer camp I was attending and brokered a deal with them. Seriously, it was all business like that. It was the 3 of us who couldn't jump. We sequestered ourselves in an unused area of the camp and took turns jumping until we got good. We gave each other tips about what we observed. And by the end of camp, all 3 of us were good enough to jump with the best of the girls and we got respect. LOL @ respect from 10 year olds...
I never learned to play jacks either. I found out that my mother discouraged jacks because she never wanted to inadvertently step on one with her bare feet. I never gave it thought like that. Until I was in an after school program (yeah... my mother was always busy) and jacks was the thing. Since by then I was nice in DD and NO ONE could out jump me.... I had a certain level of female respect. But I couldn't play jacks. And jacks was a big deal there. The reigning jack champ challenged me and my stupid ass thought it was all in fun. She was kind of a mean girl, but I have always been big for my age (though not tall) and I sport a mug still to this day. She beat the brakes off me. She was a jacks savant. Well you know what happened.... I got hold of some money and bought 3 sets of jacks. Them things are little and I expected to lose a few. And every waking hour that I didn't have something going on I played. While at the CYO, I only jumped rope, but I watched... When the annual jacks tournament came, I entered. I worked my way up from the bottom to challenge the jacks queen. She and I were in the final round. She won... but she worked for that win. When it was over, she complimented me on my game and asked me if I had been playing with her before.
My mother doesn't listen to music. So I didn't listen to music. But teenagers listen to music. It's not a peer pressure thing because once I started, I found I liked music. But I had no knowledge of music before 1982. That's not so bad as a teen, because most contempories are concerned about what's current. I covered my ignorance by always knowing every lyric of every song on the radio. My mother didn't do albums (yes I'm old) either. She would get mad if we bought them even with our own money. She might break them... Yeah, I still don't know... but she didn't know anything about cassettes. So I'd load up on cassettes... or buy them off of friends to dub songs so that I could learn them. I know... As I got older and older people have more refined tastes, my lack of “old school” became more apparent. So... I taught myself old school. I would find old albums and ask older people what was the hotness and learn all the songs so that I could literally... fake the funk. It's worked. But I know I don't know as much as others. But now when I hear a name... I have spotify and the internet to educate me. I must be the only 40 something Black person who had never heard of the Barkays...
My mother is serious about her cards. She is old school so she taught me to play 500, and whist... but not spades. I am NOT proficient in bid whist. I can be your partner until your other partner gets back from the beer run. I'm good with that right now. I might learn later but right now... I'm good. I'm not extroverted enough to go looking for whist players. And whist players have their own underground secret squirrel network. But my spades game was lacking. When I went to college, I thought I was playing a friendly game with some classmates. If you know spades on an HBCU campus... there is no such thing. One of my tightest female friend and her friends could beat anybody on the yard... and had that distinction for the 4 years they were in attendance.... including teachers! My friend was a math genius. She could count cards. I don't know why she hasn't made a life for herself as a poker shark.... Their skill was legendary. But before they got famous... I asked her to tell me what was wrong with my game. I wasn't about to get my feelings hurt unnecessarily. I was either going to be good, or I wasn't going to play. So me and my boyfriend sat down and played a game with these 2. The bf was a solid player. Not a shit talking trophy winner, but decent. The 3 of them completely and painfully critiqued my game. Explained nuances that I hadn't noticed. I knew to NOT renege, but I hadn't understand how to read the cards and watch other people while still playing along with my partner. They got me straight. And with nightly practice, by my sophomore year I was good enough to play in the student center. By senior year I could shit-talk with the best of them. I have even won a trophy!
I'm teachable. I am able and honest enough to see when I lack and then decide if there is something I want to do about it. There is lots of things in my life that I know need changing... but I'm not necessarily ready or willing to change. Then there are other things that I have forced myself to learn. The internet is one of those things. I was in my 30's when it came to prominence. Long removed from formal education. I had to figure out blogs, and social media and so forth. The older you get it's hard to learn things, because you have so much to unlearn in the process. I am a 1st class seamstress. I am also self taught. I even 1'ed 120 in my 30's because I can learn new stuff. There is a lot I can do that no one personally taught me... because I'm teachable.
Are you?
Peace
I'm teachable. The reason I say that is because there have been times in my life where I recognized that (a) I didn't know something and (b) took steps to rectify the issue. Examples....
When I was a little girl, I wanted to be a little boy. I can't say I identified as a boy because I liked a lot of the girl stuff. It's just that being a girl is an inconvenience compared to being a boy. IJS... Also I had a brother who I wanted to be just like. At some point, I realized that I liked being a girl and boys weren't so bad. But I realized around age 10 hadn't learned little intricacies of little girldom. I couldn't jump double dutch.
Double dutch is a big deal to little girls when and where I grew up. It defined you as a female. The better you jumped, the more worthier you were. I couldn't jump well. That didn't stop me from playing. But, if you know anything about DD, it meant I always had the end. After always having the end, I realized that I wasn't going to get better at jumping. I'd just be really good at turning.
That summer I scouted out some other chronic end-havers and the YMCA summer camp I was attending and brokered a deal with them. Seriously, it was all business like that. It was the 3 of us who couldn't jump. We sequestered ourselves in an unused area of the camp and took turns jumping until we got good. We gave each other tips about what we observed. And by the end of camp, all 3 of us were good enough to jump with the best of the girls and we got respect. LOL @ respect from 10 year olds...
I never learned to play jacks either. I found out that my mother discouraged jacks because she never wanted to inadvertently step on one with her bare feet. I never gave it thought like that. Until I was in an after school program (yeah... my mother was always busy) and jacks was the thing. Since by then I was nice in DD and NO ONE could out jump me.... I had a certain level of female respect. But I couldn't play jacks. And jacks was a big deal there. The reigning jack champ challenged me and my stupid ass thought it was all in fun. She was kind of a mean girl, but I have always been big for my age (though not tall) and I sport a mug still to this day. She beat the brakes off me. She was a jacks savant. Well you know what happened.... I got hold of some money and bought 3 sets of jacks. Them things are little and I expected to lose a few. And every waking hour that I didn't have something going on I played. While at the CYO, I only jumped rope, but I watched... When the annual jacks tournament came, I entered. I worked my way up from the bottom to challenge the jacks queen. She and I were in the final round. She won... but she worked for that win. When it was over, she complimented me on my game and asked me if I had been playing with her before.
My mother doesn't listen to music. So I didn't listen to music. But teenagers listen to music. It's not a peer pressure thing because once I started, I found I liked music. But I had no knowledge of music before 1982. That's not so bad as a teen, because most contempories are concerned about what's current. I covered my ignorance by always knowing every lyric of every song on the radio. My mother didn't do albums (yes I'm old) either. She would get mad if we bought them even with our own money. She might break them... Yeah, I still don't know... but she didn't know anything about cassettes. So I'd load up on cassettes... or buy them off of friends to dub songs so that I could learn them. I know... As I got older and older people have more refined tastes, my lack of “old school” became more apparent. So... I taught myself old school. I would find old albums and ask older people what was the hotness and learn all the songs so that I could literally... fake the funk. It's worked. But I know I don't know as much as others. But now when I hear a name... I have spotify and the internet to educate me. I must be the only 40 something Black person who had never heard of the Barkays...
My mother is serious about her cards. She is old school so she taught me to play 500, and whist... but not spades. I am NOT proficient in bid whist. I can be your partner until your other partner gets back from the beer run. I'm good with that right now. I might learn later but right now... I'm good. I'm not extroverted enough to go looking for whist players. And whist players have their own underground secret squirrel network. But my spades game was lacking. When I went to college, I thought I was playing a friendly game with some classmates. If you know spades on an HBCU campus... there is no such thing. One of my tightest female friend and her friends could beat anybody on the yard... and had that distinction for the 4 years they were in attendance.... including teachers! My friend was a math genius. She could count cards. I don't know why she hasn't made a life for herself as a poker shark.... Their skill was legendary. But before they got famous... I asked her to tell me what was wrong with my game. I wasn't about to get my feelings hurt unnecessarily. I was either going to be good, or I wasn't going to play. So me and my boyfriend sat down and played a game with these 2. The bf was a solid player. Not a shit talking trophy winner, but decent. The 3 of them completely and painfully critiqued my game. Explained nuances that I hadn't noticed. I knew to NOT renege, but I hadn't understand how to read the cards and watch other people while still playing along with my partner. They got me straight. And with nightly practice, by my sophomore year I was good enough to play in the student center. By senior year I could shit-talk with the best of them. I have even won a trophy!
I'm teachable. I am able and honest enough to see when I lack and then decide if there is something I want to do about it. There is lots of things in my life that I know need changing... but I'm not necessarily ready or willing to change. Then there are other things that I have forced myself to learn. The internet is one of those things. I was in my 30's when it came to prominence. Long removed from formal education. I had to figure out blogs, and social media and so forth. The older you get it's hard to learn things, because you have so much to unlearn in the process. I am a 1st class seamstress. I am also self taught. I even 1'ed 120 in my 30's because I can learn new stuff. There is a lot I can do that no one personally taught me... because I'm teachable.
Are you?
Peace
Thursday, April 30, 2015
Hood Treatment
Peace.
I live in a civilized hood. I live in “Bankhead” a notorious neighborhood in Atlanta. B.U.T.... I live in Collier Heights. A nice, upwardly mobile section of that bad neighborhood. My home is sandwiched in between a strip club and a church. My neighbors are SUPER concerned about their yards and homes. It's really nice where I live. I pay for my accommodations. No one is subsidizing my lifestyle. I'm not just going to live anywhere. And I always make the CONSCIOUS choice to live amongst Black people.
But..... I have come to notice that in the wilderness of North America, when Black people congregate, it serves as a focal point for harassment.
For the last 5 years this country has been embroiled in riot after riot. Protest after protest. Police brutality. Have you been paying attention to the location of the starts of these disturbances? Black neighborhoods. When I drive to work, I have a few options: neighborhood or highway. When drive through the neighborhood, I have 2 options. One option has angry police officers with traps set up for the entire 5 miles. Think about the stress that a person goes through traveling through an active war zone? It's not cool. The other option is a bit longer, is mostly a single lane road with far too many buses, but the road is intensely raggedy. One of those potholes actually cause a paradigm shift in me. That's stressful on me and stressful on my vehicle. I could ride the highway, but that is the longest and most stressful of all. I live 7 miles from the job, they highway would ad and addition 10.
But my commute isn't the only thing. There is no true restaurant close to my home... unless I wanted to eat at the strip club or a truck stop. There is no grocery store in my neighborhood. There aren't any true amenities in my neighborhood. And if I try to access any are present I get harassed by the police. I went to the park for a picnic. Laid the blanket down, had the food and had a book. The police rolled in, watched me for about 10 minutes then asked me what I was doing. I had difficulty answering because I thought it was obvious. After an uncomfortable conversation, they went back to their cars and tried to intimidate me to leave... but that didn't happen.
I have been running in my own neighborhood and accused of soliciting. I gotta be a hoe because I want to work out? But then I guess Black women aren't supposed to exercise. If our alarm goes off by accident, even if we give the company the code, they still call the police... which charges us. When the weather is bad, my hood loses electricity. I thought this happened in all of the city. Not so. My boss... who is white and lives amongst his people... has never lost electricity due to weather....EVER.
One of the more unfortunate habits the the people of this hood have come to accept is hearding. The walmart in the hood... yes they want them Black greenbacks like everyone else.... a police VAN sits outside and the security guards are Atlanta police with real guns. When I saw that, I decided to NOT shop there. I ain't never been policed in a walmart and I'm not about to start. The CVS chick got mad because I walked in the store via the exit door rather than the entrance door. I have issues with that. (a) I needed to use an ATM near said door and (b) the exit door opened for me. That bitched demanded I leave and re-enter. The library has only a few books. No stacks at all just rotating polls. If you are looking for a book, you must look through everything because it has no sections. You see the institutional bullshit these people have gotten so used to that they don't even realize that they are being insulted???
So Serenity... Just move. Oh, I will. COA life ain't for me. But I will live in another Black community. I've lived in 3 different states. I have come to learn that white folks don't want to live near POC's. They want us to cut their grass, raise their children, do the things to make their lives fluffier. But they don't want to come home from a long day of work and see us coming HOME from work either. If they can't move when we move in, they make our lives hell. I pay for my things like they do. I'm not willing to get burned out by folks that don't want me there. They think we are subhuman and don't have the same boundaries they have with their own people. Again my Black skin doesn't come with free utilities.
I see it as a missed opportunity really. You hear folks complaining about 'food deserts' but what you don't hear is folks saying what they are doing about it. Everyone that notices that there is a lack has an opportunity to change it. You don't have to open a store right away. Start with a truck or a wagon. Crawl before you walk. Hell, you could develop a system where you take orders from the community and then deliver it. Charge them more than you paid for it to cover expenses and make a profit. Boom! Hell the summer is coming. Network with some children to help you out and call it a summer camp. Clueless parents would be willing to pay you for allowing their children to help you. Mo' money, mo' money mo' money! If you notice a hole it's your responsibility to fill the gap.
I'm just making Knowledge Born that the Black side of town is grimier than the white side. And it's not because we don't pay taxes. It's because the powers that be don't give 2 fucks about us. And everything ain't for us to fix. Yes, it is our responsibility to cut our own grass, keep our homes up, and not litter or vandalize our neighborhoods. But picking up the trash when scheduled and making sure pot holes don't swallow up my SUV that is the city's job. Having students wait so close to the street because the sidewalks are too narrow while they wait for the bus is not the fault of the neighborhood. It's the city's fault. And they CHOOSE to prey on the community via the police but not supply resources. Not everyone is aware of the plot. Some folks succumb to savagery after being treated like a animal for so long. Well I know what's going on.
I have lived in Black communities where everyone did their jobs with regard to the external of their homes. I've lived in communities so pristine, that visitors thought it was a mixed. I mean it would have to be mixed if I lived there. I ALWAYS correct folks. Especially Black folks who think an all Black neighborhood must be the pits. But guess what? I don't live in fear trapped in my own house.
My mother lives in a “mixed” community. And she sleeps with a shotgun next to her bed because she fears her white neighbors. If they say “good morning” she searches for ulterior meanings. She has an excuse to mistrust white folks. She was raised in the segregated south. She, however, doesn't have a reason for why she bought in hat neighborhood. And she knows that she will NEVER receive a moment's comfort from her “Black Power” daughter.
Serenity are you filling your gap? Nope. I'm breaking camp. And in the community I chose to set roots down in, I will work towards that there. I knew this rest stop was going to be temporary when I stopped the truck here. Our communities don't have to be run down and devoid of useful business. Stop drinking all the damn Kooli-Aid the devil serves up for you.
Peace
I live in a civilized hood. I live in “Bankhead” a notorious neighborhood in Atlanta. B.U.T.... I live in Collier Heights. A nice, upwardly mobile section of that bad neighborhood. My home is sandwiched in between a strip club and a church. My neighbors are SUPER concerned about their yards and homes. It's really nice where I live. I pay for my accommodations. No one is subsidizing my lifestyle. I'm not just going to live anywhere. And I always make the CONSCIOUS choice to live amongst Black people.
But..... I have come to notice that in the wilderness of North America, when Black people congregate, it serves as a focal point for harassment.
For the last 5 years this country has been embroiled in riot after riot. Protest after protest. Police brutality. Have you been paying attention to the location of the starts of these disturbances? Black neighborhoods. When I drive to work, I have a few options: neighborhood or highway. When drive through the neighborhood, I have 2 options. One option has angry police officers with traps set up for the entire 5 miles. Think about the stress that a person goes through traveling through an active war zone? It's not cool. The other option is a bit longer, is mostly a single lane road with far too many buses, but the road is intensely raggedy. One of those potholes actually cause a paradigm shift in me. That's stressful on me and stressful on my vehicle. I could ride the highway, but that is the longest and most stressful of all. I live 7 miles from the job, they highway would ad and addition 10.
But my commute isn't the only thing. There is no true restaurant close to my home... unless I wanted to eat at the strip club or a truck stop. There is no grocery store in my neighborhood. There aren't any true amenities in my neighborhood. And if I try to access any are present I get harassed by the police. I went to the park for a picnic. Laid the blanket down, had the food and had a book. The police rolled in, watched me for about 10 minutes then asked me what I was doing. I had difficulty answering because I thought it was obvious. After an uncomfortable conversation, they went back to their cars and tried to intimidate me to leave... but that didn't happen.
I have been running in my own neighborhood and accused of soliciting. I gotta be a hoe because I want to work out? But then I guess Black women aren't supposed to exercise. If our alarm goes off by accident, even if we give the company the code, they still call the police... which charges us. When the weather is bad, my hood loses electricity. I thought this happened in all of the city. Not so. My boss... who is white and lives amongst his people... has never lost electricity due to weather....EVER.
One of the more unfortunate habits the the people of this hood have come to accept is hearding. The walmart in the hood... yes they want them Black greenbacks like everyone else.... a police VAN sits outside and the security guards are Atlanta police with real guns. When I saw that, I decided to NOT shop there. I ain't never been policed in a walmart and I'm not about to start. The CVS chick got mad because I walked in the store via the exit door rather than the entrance door. I have issues with that. (a) I needed to use an ATM near said door and (b) the exit door opened for me. That bitched demanded I leave and re-enter. The library has only a few books. No stacks at all just rotating polls. If you are looking for a book, you must look through everything because it has no sections. You see the institutional bullshit these people have gotten so used to that they don't even realize that they are being insulted???
So Serenity... Just move. Oh, I will. COA life ain't for me. But I will live in another Black community. I've lived in 3 different states. I have come to learn that white folks don't want to live near POC's. They want us to cut their grass, raise their children, do the things to make their lives fluffier. But they don't want to come home from a long day of work and see us coming HOME from work either. If they can't move when we move in, they make our lives hell. I pay for my things like they do. I'm not willing to get burned out by folks that don't want me there. They think we are subhuman and don't have the same boundaries they have with their own people. Again my Black skin doesn't come with free utilities.
I see it as a missed opportunity really. You hear folks complaining about 'food deserts' but what you don't hear is folks saying what they are doing about it. Everyone that notices that there is a lack has an opportunity to change it. You don't have to open a store right away. Start with a truck or a wagon. Crawl before you walk. Hell, you could develop a system where you take orders from the community and then deliver it. Charge them more than you paid for it to cover expenses and make a profit. Boom! Hell the summer is coming. Network with some children to help you out and call it a summer camp. Clueless parents would be willing to pay you for allowing their children to help you. Mo' money, mo' money mo' money! If you notice a hole it's your responsibility to fill the gap.
I'm just making Knowledge Born that the Black side of town is grimier than the white side. And it's not because we don't pay taxes. It's because the powers that be don't give 2 fucks about us. And everything ain't for us to fix. Yes, it is our responsibility to cut our own grass, keep our homes up, and not litter or vandalize our neighborhoods. But picking up the trash when scheduled and making sure pot holes don't swallow up my SUV that is the city's job. Having students wait so close to the street because the sidewalks are too narrow while they wait for the bus is not the fault of the neighborhood. It's the city's fault. And they CHOOSE to prey on the community via the police but not supply resources. Not everyone is aware of the plot. Some folks succumb to savagery after being treated like a animal for so long. Well I know what's going on.
I have lived in Black communities where everyone did their jobs with regard to the external of their homes. I've lived in communities so pristine, that visitors thought it was a mixed. I mean it would have to be mixed if I lived there. I ALWAYS correct folks. Especially Black folks who think an all Black neighborhood must be the pits. But guess what? I don't live in fear trapped in my own house.
My mother lives in a “mixed” community. And she sleeps with a shotgun next to her bed because she fears her white neighbors. If they say “good morning” she searches for ulterior meanings. She has an excuse to mistrust white folks. She was raised in the segregated south. She, however, doesn't have a reason for why she bought in hat neighborhood. And she knows that she will NEVER receive a moment's comfort from her “Black Power” daughter.
Serenity are you filling your gap? Nope. I'm breaking camp. And in the community I chose to set roots down in, I will work towards that there. I knew this rest stop was going to be temporary when I stopped the truck here. Our communities don't have to be run down and devoid of useful business. Stop drinking all the damn Kooli-Aid the devil serves up for you.
Peace
Tuesday, April 14, 2015
Guard Your Heart
Peace.
When I was an active and practicing Christian.... I kept hearing the phrase, “guard your heart.” I get why they said that now. Guarding your heart is the only way to keep oneself a proper xian.
Guarding your heart means, don't do things that might expose you to some anti, or alternative information. If you get exposed to that which is not “of god” then you will burn in hell because it causes you to question your faith. Questioning your faith leads to lack of devotion (and protection payments) which ultimately causes you to stray. Stray = hell. If that information is in books... don't read the books. If it is in movies.... don't watch those movies. If that information is in music.... don't listen to that music. If that information comes via other people.... Stay away from those people. It is a method of preserving folks by keeping them in a bubble of holiness.
Well... I don't guard my heart. I suppose that is why I stopped being a xian. I got influenced by many different ideologies to the point where I was forced me make my own conscious choices about what was important to me and guess what? Xianity is/was not important to me.
I love reading and learning new things so much that it was inevitable that I would leave the xian fold. I've read books on everything... including Luciferianism. I just do not believe that a book is going to damn me to hell. Actually, I don't believe hell exists. Once you take that off the plate, a lot of foolishness falls off with it. I have studied with Wiccans and attended their rituals. I have attended Muslim services. I have aligned my chakras and prayed with Hindus. I've had accupuncture. And now I am a comfortable 120 holding, 5%er. I'm super good.
There are universal truths. You can't interact with the grimy and stay clean. What every you make, you own and it always comes back to you. Everything dies. In order for things to live, others must die. Everybody is going to have good and bad times. Etc....
These universal truths don't give a fuck who you are. So why do you have to put a label on it and live your life based on someone else's rules? And that someone else doesn't even know me!
Yeah.... Read books people. Right now libraries are still free....
Peace
When I was an active and practicing Christian.... I kept hearing the phrase, “guard your heart.” I get why they said that now. Guarding your heart is the only way to keep oneself a proper xian.
Guarding your heart means, don't do things that might expose you to some anti, or alternative information. If you get exposed to that which is not “of god” then you will burn in hell because it causes you to question your faith. Questioning your faith leads to lack of devotion (and protection payments) which ultimately causes you to stray. Stray = hell. If that information is in books... don't read the books. If it is in movies.... don't watch those movies. If that information is in music.... don't listen to that music. If that information comes via other people.... Stay away from those people. It is a method of preserving folks by keeping them in a bubble of holiness.
Well... I don't guard my heart. I suppose that is why I stopped being a xian. I got influenced by many different ideologies to the point where I was forced me make my own conscious choices about what was important to me and guess what? Xianity is/was not important to me.
I love reading and learning new things so much that it was inevitable that I would leave the xian fold. I've read books on everything... including Luciferianism. I just do not believe that a book is going to damn me to hell. Actually, I don't believe hell exists. Once you take that off the plate, a lot of foolishness falls off with it. I have studied with Wiccans and attended their rituals. I have attended Muslim services. I have aligned my chakras and prayed with Hindus. I've had accupuncture. And now I am a comfortable 120 holding, 5%er. I'm super good.
There are universal truths. You can't interact with the grimy and stay clean. What every you make, you own and it always comes back to you. Everything dies. In order for things to live, others must die. Everybody is going to have good and bad times. Etc....
These universal truths don't give a fuck who you are. So why do you have to put a label on it and live your life based on someone else's rules? And that someone else doesn't even know me!
Yeah.... Read books people. Right now libraries are still free....
Peace
Monday, April 13, 2015
Poli-Tricks
Peace....
I have come to learn an uncomfortable truth.....
It doesn't matter how well you do a job, nor does it matter how efficient you are.
Unless you are the boss, you MUST play office poli-tricks.
I have had several job in my working career. So I have had several employee reviews. It is always the same.... My employers have NEVER been dissatisfied with my work. What they do say is that I don't play well with others. Playing well with others has never been one of my aspirations. Work is work. Play is play.
When I take a job, I assume it is to perform a specific service. Anything outside my job description is extra... And if I'm not getting paid for it.......
I have a coworker that does VERY little work. She does a lot of walking around and politricicking. Yet... she is the employee of the month and I get reprimanded. Here is the thing... I do what I am supposed to do. Not only that, I keep meticulous records. I'm also professional. So when employers want to get up in my ass about anything that is non job related, they never have a leg to stand on. Because... I do my job.
I am a very playful person, but I am not playful at work. I keep my life compartmentalized. I have my work people.... My righteous people... my sorority people... my family....my party people... I used to have church people, but they are all gone now... my good friends. Only my good friends get to be in more than one cipher. And my God is the ultimate good friend and he gets to be in everything.
I have come to learn to NOT make good friends in environments where we will have the same person signing our paychecks. Coworkers are as dependent on their check as I am. They will sell you out if they feel like it will preserve their job, or if they feel they need to. So why give them ammunition? On my 1st real job, I closely befriended a woman. She eventually became my boss. And when that happened I was initially thrilled. BUT.... she knew everything about me by that point. And she used that information against me whenever she had the opportunity to further herself. I was not just hurt at the job... but my feelings were hurt. I have never allowed myself to have a work close friend.
I am a polite person. I follow the rules of etiquette. Those are the only rules that can't be disputed. When I have a job with a office or a desk, I have the most current edition of Emily Post right on display. I strive to non-offensive to my coworkers. But I am no pushover and are always well aware of what my duties are. I speak to people and make the clients feel comfortable in the work environment. What more do people want?
I would love to work with me. But that's not who I work for or with.
When I get to work, I get here early. The reason behind that is I don't want to be late. Also I like to ease into my day and not be thrust into it. I then make a list (I also make one the night before) of what I need to accomplish and by what time. When I sit down with my cup of coffee, I proceed to knock my tasks out. Then when I'm done, I'll do whatever. Even when I come back from lunch, I do a mini version of the same morning procedure. It is rare I leave with work undone. I even plan out my week based on this model. That is right and exact. Making people feel warm and fuzzy... not so much.
Now here is where folks tell me I'm mean.... I don't eat lunch with other folks because... I follow a special diet and can get annoyed when folks make comments... because they are comments and not genuine questions... about what I eat. That is rude and insulting. I do not go out for drinks with coworkers or want to fool with them on my off time. I have a life and other shit to do. I'm not going to spend my recreational time with people where I have to be super cautious about what I say, what I wear, who I'm with, etc. If I'm invited to a wedding or funeral, I'll go. I will show my respects, but that's all you're getting from me. I won't buy trinkets from folks children. I don't sell anything, and I have no children for them to purchase crap from. There is no equality there and I don't feel any kind of way about it. I'm not sharing my personals with you. I'm just not. Me and the 7 had begun cohabiting for a minute before the people I currently work with realized. The only way they found out is because he came to a funeral with me.
I'm harking on work since I tend to be more cautious because that's where my money comes from. I have these same issues everywhere I go. My family thinks I'm a wild hippy Muslim child. I don't know where they get that from. I suppose it's because I'm different from them in obvious aspects (appearance, and religion is all I can think of). But in every way it matters I am very similar to them and have similar concerns. My sorority doesn't say it verbally, but I can see with their eyes that they think me different from them as well. I wrap my head... but always stylishly! I wear locs that can be seen (but that's no longer a faux pas these days?) and I have a very small nose ring that most folks don't notice. I see their eyes going up to my head then looking me all over. The old women just flat out ignore me until they want me to do something. I have decades in. Them old biddies don't mean shit to me. I pledged once. I won't do it again. Righteous people treat me suspect because I have college degrees, a square job, never been to jail and have no children. I must be an agent! I'm not interested in the things that interest them and just strive to see Allah's world manifest... And I'm not Muslim. My close friends are my sanctuary. I except them without questions and I expect the same. And for the most part, it's what I get. I have 7 of them that know me... and it's good. Unfortunately most of them aren't local. Oh well... this is a global existence.
I realize the common denominator is me, but I am unwilling to change because it essentially works for me. I have feelings... lots of feelings.... more feelings than folks suspect. And it's more important for me to protect those feelings rather than let folks run rough shot all over them and that is what folks do until proven otherwise. But I recognize.... that eventually.... I'm a have to figure out how to smooze... or become my own boss.
Peace
I have come to learn an uncomfortable truth.....
It doesn't matter how well you do a job, nor does it matter how efficient you are.
Unless you are the boss, you MUST play office poli-tricks.
I have had several job in my working career. So I have had several employee reviews. It is always the same.... My employers have NEVER been dissatisfied with my work. What they do say is that I don't play well with others. Playing well with others has never been one of my aspirations. Work is work. Play is play.
When I take a job, I assume it is to perform a specific service. Anything outside my job description is extra... And if I'm not getting paid for it.......
I have a coworker that does VERY little work. She does a lot of walking around and politricicking. Yet... she is the employee of the month and I get reprimanded. Here is the thing... I do what I am supposed to do. Not only that, I keep meticulous records. I'm also professional. So when employers want to get up in my ass about anything that is non job related, they never have a leg to stand on. Because... I do my job.
I am a very playful person, but I am not playful at work. I keep my life compartmentalized. I have my work people.... My righteous people... my sorority people... my family....my party people... I used to have church people, but they are all gone now... my good friends. Only my good friends get to be in more than one cipher. And my God is the ultimate good friend and he gets to be in everything.
I have come to learn to NOT make good friends in environments where we will have the same person signing our paychecks. Coworkers are as dependent on their check as I am. They will sell you out if they feel like it will preserve their job, or if they feel they need to. So why give them ammunition? On my 1st real job, I closely befriended a woman. She eventually became my boss. And when that happened I was initially thrilled. BUT.... she knew everything about me by that point. And she used that information against me whenever she had the opportunity to further herself. I was not just hurt at the job... but my feelings were hurt. I have never allowed myself to have a work close friend.
I am a polite person. I follow the rules of etiquette. Those are the only rules that can't be disputed. When I have a job with a office or a desk, I have the most current edition of Emily Post right on display. I strive to non-offensive to my coworkers. But I am no pushover and are always well aware of what my duties are. I speak to people and make the clients feel comfortable in the work environment. What more do people want?
I would love to work with me. But that's not who I work for or with.
When I get to work, I get here early. The reason behind that is I don't want to be late. Also I like to ease into my day and not be thrust into it. I then make a list (I also make one the night before) of what I need to accomplish and by what time. When I sit down with my cup of coffee, I proceed to knock my tasks out. Then when I'm done, I'll do whatever. Even when I come back from lunch, I do a mini version of the same morning procedure. It is rare I leave with work undone. I even plan out my week based on this model. That is right and exact. Making people feel warm and fuzzy... not so much.
Now here is where folks tell me I'm mean.... I don't eat lunch with other folks because... I follow a special diet and can get annoyed when folks make comments... because they are comments and not genuine questions... about what I eat. That is rude and insulting. I do not go out for drinks with coworkers or want to fool with them on my off time. I have a life and other shit to do. I'm not going to spend my recreational time with people where I have to be super cautious about what I say, what I wear, who I'm with, etc. If I'm invited to a wedding or funeral, I'll go. I will show my respects, but that's all you're getting from me. I won't buy trinkets from folks children. I don't sell anything, and I have no children for them to purchase crap from. There is no equality there and I don't feel any kind of way about it. I'm not sharing my personals with you. I'm just not. Me and the 7 had begun cohabiting for a minute before the people I currently work with realized. The only way they found out is because he came to a funeral with me.
I'm harking on work since I tend to be more cautious because that's where my money comes from. I have these same issues everywhere I go. My family thinks I'm a wild hippy Muslim child. I don't know where they get that from. I suppose it's because I'm different from them in obvious aspects (appearance, and religion is all I can think of). But in every way it matters I am very similar to them and have similar concerns. My sorority doesn't say it verbally, but I can see with their eyes that they think me different from them as well. I wrap my head... but always stylishly! I wear locs that can be seen (but that's no longer a faux pas these days?) and I have a very small nose ring that most folks don't notice. I see their eyes going up to my head then looking me all over. The old women just flat out ignore me until they want me to do something. I have decades in. Them old biddies don't mean shit to me. I pledged once. I won't do it again. Righteous people treat me suspect because I have college degrees, a square job, never been to jail and have no children. I must be an agent! I'm not interested in the things that interest them and just strive to see Allah's world manifest... And I'm not Muslim. My close friends are my sanctuary. I except them without questions and I expect the same. And for the most part, it's what I get. I have 7 of them that know me... and it's good. Unfortunately most of them aren't local. Oh well... this is a global existence.
I realize the common denominator is me, but I am unwilling to change because it essentially works for me. I have feelings... lots of feelings.... more feelings than folks suspect. And it's more important for me to protect those feelings rather than let folks run rough shot all over them and that is what folks do until proven otherwise. But I recognize.... that eventually.... I'm a have to figure out how to smooze... or become my own boss.
Peace
Monday, April 6, 2015
Skirts, Bras and Hate
Peace...
I had an interaction this weekend that brought to mind memories.... I was telling a “friend” that I had made a kelly green lace skirt. (I cannot stop looking at because it is so pretty!!!!) She asked me if I lined it. Of course I lined it. I work in a dentist office and not a strip club. She asked what color the lining was. That's a weird question. I still don't understand her motivation for asking. But I said, “brown.” She asked, “Why did you choose brown?” I said, “Because I'm brown.” She then told me.... that I should have lined it in beige and that my skirt would look dirty. Woooooooow!!!!!!That's a level of self hate I'm not used to. But maybe I should be.
I don't wear white bras. At this junction, I don't even own white bras anymore. Ever since I started buying my own bras, I have made the conscious choice to purchase bras that couldn't be detected under my clothes. I'm dark skinned. So I own mostly black, but some navy, some emerald green, etc. but all dark. When I know that I ma purchasing bras and will have to try them on, I wear a white shirt just to make sure you can't see it. My mother and I were bra shopping and she wanted to buy some for me. My boobs are not ordinary, so I have to shop at specialty stores. At this particular store on this particular day, they only had white bras in my size. I didn't want them. My mother says, “But they fit.” I said, “I don't wear white bras.” She said, “Everyone wears white bras.” I said, “I don't.” Even the dark skinned sales lady said that she preferred the darker colors. My mother refused to understand. But I refused to bras. And that reminded me of.....
When I got married, I had a bra made. (yes you can to that). I had a black bra made. When I brought it home, my mother bitched because I had it made in black and not white. I countered that you would be able to see a white bra though my dress. And she said not if I wore a slip. That interaction brought back to mind this one....
I used to usher. On the 1st Sunday all the ushers wore their “usher whites.” I always wore Black underthings so that you couldn't see them underneath my whites. The head usher took me aside and asked why I didn't wear white under my whites. I said because you'd see them. She said not if you wore a white slip. She said my whites looked dingy. I asked what about these white tights. She told me there was nothing I could do about them. And she made us wear these thick assed tights too. Not plain white hose, but tights. She said It would look better. What she meant is the color of our legs wouldn't seep through.
What's with this self hate dark people???? I know in this culture white people are seen as the default, so I expect foolishness from them... but not from us. We are supposed to know that everything that's for them doesn't always apply to us. I don't wear “nude” pantyhose. I wear coffee. I don't wear nude shoes, because on me, they are beige. I will wear bronze or copper shoes with everything, though. I don't wash my hair everyday. I know to try on makeup before I purchase it because it may just disappear into my skin.I should own stock in Palmers cocoa butter because I use it like that. I know that “ashy” is a real thing. And guess what... I... Don't... Look.... Dingy! When I wear dark foundation garments. I don't see white as the pinnacle of any damn thing.
But if you do.... stay the hell away from me. I'm having a good time. I own all of this.
Peace
I had an interaction this weekend that brought to mind memories.... I was telling a “friend” that I had made a kelly green lace skirt. (I cannot stop looking at because it is so pretty!!!!) She asked me if I lined it. Of course I lined it. I work in a dentist office and not a strip club. She asked what color the lining was. That's a weird question. I still don't understand her motivation for asking. But I said, “brown.” She asked, “Why did you choose brown?” I said, “Because I'm brown.” She then told me.... that I should have lined it in beige and that my skirt would look dirty. Woooooooow!!!!!!That's a level of self hate I'm not used to. But maybe I should be.
I don't wear white bras. At this junction, I don't even own white bras anymore. Ever since I started buying my own bras, I have made the conscious choice to purchase bras that couldn't be detected under my clothes. I'm dark skinned. So I own mostly black, but some navy, some emerald green, etc. but all dark. When I know that I ma purchasing bras and will have to try them on, I wear a white shirt just to make sure you can't see it. My mother and I were bra shopping and she wanted to buy some for me. My boobs are not ordinary, so I have to shop at specialty stores. At this particular store on this particular day, they only had white bras in my size. I didn't want them. My mother says, “But they fit.” I said, “I don't wear white bras.” She said, “Everyone wears white bras.” I said, “I don't.” Even the dark skinned sales lady said that she preferred the darker colors. My mother refused to understand. But I refused to bras. And that reminded me of.....
When I got married, I had a bra made. (yes you can to that). I had a black bra made. When I brought it home, my mother bitched because I had it made in black and not white. I countered that you would be able to see a white bra though my dress. And she said not if I wore a slip. That interaction brought back to mind this one....
I used to usher. On the 1st Sunday all the ushers wore their “usher whites.” I always wore Black underthings so that you couldn't see them underneath my whites. The head usher took me aside and asked why I didn't wear white under my whites. I said because you'd see them. She said not if you wore a white slip. She said my whites looked dingy. I asked what about these white tights. She told me there was nothing I could do about them. And she made us wear these thick assed tights too. Not plain white hose, but tights. She said It would look better. What she meant is the color of our legs wouldn't seep through.
What's with this self hate dark people???? I know in this culture white people are seen as the default, so I expect foolishness from them... but not from us. We are supposed to know that everything that's for them doesn't always apply to us. I don't wear “nude” pantyhose. I wear coffee. I don't wear nude shoes, because on me, they are beige. I will wear bronze or copper shoes with everything, though. I don't wash my hair everyday. I know to try on makeup before I purchase it because it may just disappear into my skin.I should own stock in Palmers cocoa butter because I use it like that. I know that “ashy” is a real thing. And guess what... I... Don't... Look.... Dingy! When I wear dark foundation garments. I don't see white as the pinnacle of any damn thing.
But if you do.... stay the hell away from me. I'm having a good time. I own all of this.
Peace
Wednesday, March 18, 2015
Mind your Business
Peace.
I haven't posted in a while. Not because I haven't been sewing... I have... for other people but not so much for me. It's not that I don't have plans to sew for me, but the other people thing takes precedence. It seems like other people refuse to get a garment to you unless they need it the next day. But... I did want to ask y'all a question....
Stashes??? I don't really have one of fabric. I will purchase patterns... on sale... like crazy. But not fabric. How do you know how much fabric to buy if you aren't making something specific? I'm not saying I don't have fabric. I do. But it's only a drawer full. I have more fabric in the quilt pile which is my extra fabric after a project. My so-called stash is me changing my mind or not getting to something. I see y'all with shelves and shelves of fabric. Y'all are making me feel inadequate. I want to go into a fabric store and buy all fabric I like. But when I try that, I'm at a loss because I don't know how much to ask for. And then the notions? Should I buy some? Especially when I don't know what I'm making!
My process is as thus... (1) I get inspired. (2) I decide on a pattern (3) I buy the fabric and notions necessary for the garment. And (4) I make said garment. How do you get a stash from that???
Now if you don't mind, I'm a need for y'all to answer quickly. I'm going to the fabric store this weekend on a full paycheck. I don't know when that will happen again. And I'm a want to buy UP the store. So tell me the hows and why you have a stash because I WANT ONE TOO!!!! When you're buying random amounts of fabric just because you like it, how do you know how much to buy??? How do you know what the fabric wants to be?
Peace!
I haven't posted in a while. Not because I haven't been sewing... I have... for other people but not so much for me. It's not that I don't have plans to sew for me, but the other people thing takes precedence. It seems like other people refuse to get a garment to you unless they need it the next day. But... I did want to ask y'all a question....
Stashes??? I don't really have one of fabric. I will purchase patterns... on sale... like crazy. But not fabric. How do you know how much fabric to buy if you aren't making something specific? I'm not saying I don't have fabric. I do. But it's only a drawer full. I have more fabric in the quilt pile which is my extra fabric after a project. My so-called stash is me changing my mind or not getting to something. I see y'all with shelves and shelves of fabric. Y'all are making me feel inadequate. I want to go into a fabric store and buy all fabric I like. But when I try that, I'm at a loss because I don't know how much to ask for. And then the notions? Should I buy some? Especially when I don't know what I'm making!
My process is as thus... (1) I get inspired. (2) I decide on a pattern (3) I buy the fabric and notions necessary for the garment. And (4) I make said garment. How do you get a stash from that???
Now if you don't mind, I'm a need for y'all to answer quickly. I'm going to the fabric store this weekend on a full paycheck. I don't know when that will happen again. And I'm a want to buy UP the store. So tell me the hows and why you have a stash because I WANT ONE TOO!!!! When you're buying random amounts of fabric just because you like it, how do you know how much to buy??? How do you know what the fabric wants to be?
Peace!
Monday, March 16, 2015
Who am I?
Peace.
This blog gets NO LOVE from me. I have a lot of blogs and this one seems like the one that specifically doesn't fit what I'm generally doing. But I didn't want to delete it, because it reminds me of what I want to get back to. I want to embrace and manifest my inner hippy....
Last night I re-watched for the umpteenth time one of my favorite movies: Peace, Love & Misunderstanding. It's about a woman whose mother was a textbook definition of a hippie and her daughter rebelled and became a straight laced lawyer. But when the lawyer's husband asked for a divorce, she took her children and went to visit her mother. And her mother welcomed her with open arms. The lawyer chick had 2 children, one of which was in college and the grandmother had never met them.
Now yes I have Mommie issues... but this movie speaks to me because I want to live a hippie life, but in degrees. I want to live on a farm and I want to have chickens, I want to be creative in my own way, have a simple yet comfortable home. I want to wear sundresses and I want to dance naked under a full moon.... But I also want to have internet, live near a real city though not right in it, have lots of money in the bank and travel the world. I want my hippiness to come in degrees.
When I walk passed mirrors or store windows and see my reflection.... It doesn't speak to the person I am striving to express. I look like a soccer mom. A friend of mine said I look like a teacher with 3 children. (why 3 children?) The only thing I was missing was a minivan. That hurt... A lot. That is not who I am and it isn't the impression I want to give people. I admit that I have a hard time expressing myself. I hate explaining myself to people who aren't entitled to the information. I don't like to give people extra information. So to a lot of people I appear stand offish and quiet. I'm not those things... but I do have... and maintain... boundaries. It is what it is. The bottom line is I want to be a Bohemian... sounds cleaner than a hippie.... but I'm not at this present moment.
So.....
What is my definition of a Bohemian? Well I don't live in Bohemia. “Having informal and unconventional social habits” is one dictionary's definition. I think the most apropos definition is the one from the Urban dictionary... “somebody who leads an alternative lifestyle, they are not hippies because they can have an extremely wide range of different tastes in music, fashion, art, literature etc they are usually very creative people. they are above all optimists, even if they can be very cynical too(it does make sense...sort of). they like wearing a mixture of weird clothes and mix different fashions together just for the heck of it. they like weed. Generally very laid back and relaxed. “
That's me for the most part. I have never smoked weed... but let that shit become legal in Georgia... I will have a new hobby.... I'm alternative and unconventional. I read a lot. I listen to different types of music... though my favorite is HipHop...I am not a xian.... I have pagan tendencies but not truly religious pagan.... I'm a 5%er..... I observe 3/4th which includes a headwrap.... and I celebrate alternative holidays. All sounds very bohemian to me. But to look at me or my lifestyle you wouldn't think so.
So a question I'm developing is.... am I hiding? I'm not sure. Like I said previously, I don't like folks in my business, but I want it out there that I'm not like most folks... but I also want it out there that I'm not down to play in the reindeer games. So... I'm going to work on adjusting my outside to suit my insides.
And this blog is going to be a REAL reflection of who I am. Not a politically correct me. I'm a curse here. I'm a use ebonics over here. I'm a be me here. I keep a few other blogs. I have my righteous blog in Serenity's Cipher. I post builds there striving to show 5%ers as educated thoughtful individuals. I think I'm rather successful at it. I post only the truth. I have my sewing blog, the refine-ista. I showcase my sewing talents there and my 3/4ths of it all. I have my healthy blog at Within/Without where I showcase all the healthy stuff I do for and to myself But no place to I have to just sit down... chill... and drink some brown liquor. I'm a do that at this site. So if that is too much for you to handle... or if you some eavesdropping... agent type individual looking to accuse me of some shit... You need gwan on someplace else. I'm a be me here. And if I need to lock the doors.... I'll do that too.
I'm a go as I came.....
Peace
This blog gets NO LOVE from me. I have a lot of blogs and this one seems like the one that specifically doesn't fit what I'm generally doing. But I didn't want to delete it, because it reminds me of what I want to get back to. I want to embrace and manifest my inner hippy....
Last night I re-watched for the umpteenth time one of my favorite movies: Peace, Love & Misunderstanding. It's about a woman whose mother was a textbook definition of a hippie and her daughter rebelled and became a straight laced lawyer. But when the lawyer's husband asked for a divorce, she took her children and went to visit her mother. And her mother welcomed her with open arms. The lawyer chick had 2 children, one of which was in college and the grandmother had never met them.
Now yes I have Mommie issues... but this movie speaks to me because I want to live a hippie life, but in degrees. I want to live on a farm and I want to have chickens, I want to be creative in my own way, have a simple yet comfortable home. I want to wear sundresses and I want to dance naked under a full moon.... But I also want to have internet, live near a real city though not right in it, have lots of money in the bank and travel the world. I want my hippiness to come in degrees.
When I walk passed mirrors or store windows and see my reflection.... It doesn't speak to the person I am striving to express. I look like a soccer mom. A friend of mine said I look like a teacher with 3 children. (why 3 children?) The only thing I was missing was a minivan. That hurt... A lot. That is not who I am and it isn't the impression I want to give people. I admit that I have a hard time expressing myself. I hate explaining myself to people who aren't entitled to the information. I don't like to give people extra information. So to a lot of people I appear stand offish and quiet. I'm not those things... but I do have... and maintain... boundaries. It is what it is. The bottom line is I want to be a Bohemian... sounds cleaner than a hippie.... but I'm not at this present moment.
So.....
What is my definition of a Bohemian? Well I don't live in Bohemia. “Having informal and unconventional social habits” is one dictionary's definition. I think the most apropos definition is the one from the Urban dictionary... “somebody who leads an alternative lifestyle, they are not hippies because they can have an extremely wide range of different tastes in music, fashion, art, literature etc they are usually very creative people. they are above all optimists, even if they can be very cynical too(it does make sense...sort of). they like wearing a mixture of weird clothes and mix different fashions together just for the heck of it. they like weed. Generally very laid back and relaxed. “
That's me for the most part. I have never smoked weed... but let that shit become legal in Georgia... I will have a new hobby.... I'm alternative and unconventional. I read a lot. I listen to different types of music... though my favorite is HipHop...I am not a xian.... I have pagan tendencies but not truly religious pagan.... I'm a 5%er..... I observe 3/4th which includes a headwrap.... and I celebrate alternative holidays. All sounds very bohemian to me. But to look at me or my lifestyle you wouldn't think so.
So a question I'm developing is.... am I hiding? I'm not sure. Like I said previously, I don't like folks in my business, but I want it out there that I'm not like most folks... but I also want it out there that I'm not down to play in the reindeer games. So... I'm going to work on adjusting my outside to suit my insides.
And this blog is going to be a REAL reflection of who I am. Not a politically correct me. I'm a curse here. I'm a use ebonics over here. I'm a be me here. I keep a few other blogs. I have my righteous blog in Serenity's Cipher. I post builds there striving to show 5%ers as educated thoughtful individuals. I think I'm rather successful at it. I post only the truth. I have my sewing blog, the refine-ista. I showcase my sewing talents there and my 3/4ths of it all. I have my healthy blog at Within/Without where I showcase all the healthy stuff I do for and to myself But no place to I have to just sit down... chill... and drink some brown liquor. I'm a do that at this site. So if that is too much for you to handle... or if you some eavesdropping... agent type individual looking to accuse me of some shit... You need gwan on someplace else. I'm a be me here. And if I need to lock the doors.... I'll do that too.
I'm a go as I came.....
Peace
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)