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The Way I See It Today: 10 Things My Mama Never Explained (or Failed to Explain) to Me About Men (Part One).

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I’ve been thinking a lot about men, and sex, and relationships over the past few months, for a variety of reasons. One because I have a number of female friends – very smart and accomplished women – who really seem to not have a clue about men AT ALL, who have said stuff about men and relationships that has left me completely confounded and confused.

And rather than give them advice, I’ve learned to say nothing and let my friends go through their drama and experience the good, bad and ugly on their own, like I had to.

This, in turn, has gotten me to thinking….I’ve realized is that a lot of the most helpful and useful stuff that I learned about men came from men themselves and my direct experiences with them. No big surprise there.　But the funny thing is, a lot of what I learned about men directly contradicts everything I learned, first from my mother and older female relatives, and my female friends. And I’ve realized that a lot of my female friends are in the same boat, but the difference is, a lot of them just aren’t interested in hearing the unadulterated truth from guys. It’s almost like women are saying that what guys think about all things guys doesn’t matter. And that’s pretty effed up if you ask me.

Wow. Talk about the blind leading the blind. No wonder things are all messed up and why men are increasingly going ghost, you know, going off and playing video games down in the basement, or surfing for Internet porn and waiting for the day when sexbots are sold at Wal-Mart.

So I’ve decided to devote a few blog posts to the task of demystifying men, based on everything I’ve seen and heard and experienced directly from men themselves. I present, in no particular order, the things I’ve learned from men, from being with men, about men, and most of this stuff is what my Mama either forgot to tell me, never bothered to tell me when I was younger, or taught me that directly contradicted what men are really like.

I had to learn the hard way, of course. Thanks, Mama for leaving me in the dark all these years. Luckily I had the common sense to get a flashlight after bumping into shit in the dark. My shins took a real bad beating.

Here we go……

1. Men like having sex.

 

Lots and lots of sex. I’m talking like 2-5 or 10 or 20 times a day. Any kind of sex they can get. If that offends you, then, I don’t know what to tell you. And from what I hear, if you don’t oblige them, there are women who will oblige them. See #5 and #8. They tell me that access to these women is either one text message, phone call, tweet, Facebook message or telegram away. Some of these women even respond to messages by pigeon carrier. Some of these women are mind readers and somehow know that men want them even before the men themselves know. Fancy that.

2. Men think about sex and talk about sex.

 

All the time. Sometimes even when they’re sleep or thinking about other things, like work, or breathing, or eating. It’s the only time they can think about other things, is when they’re thinking about sex. They will find a way to talk about sex when the conversation has nothing whatsoever to do with sex.

3. Men like to look at women, touch women, smell women, taste women. All the time.

 

Men like us dressed, undressed, tied up, bound, in various states of just being, aroused, breathing, oily, wet, it doesn’t matter. So don’t get offended if your man looks at other women, even after having a great night of sex with you. Or if he looks at porn. He can’t help himself. Now the thing I learned from men is that men will look at the type of porn that turns them on (duh) and that type of porn should be a graphic representation of the woman they are with. Now if you find that he likes and collects Asian midget porn and you’re NOT midget and you‘re NOT Asian, then you have a problem. Maybe it’s time to have a sit-down with him and let him tell you that he’s really not into you. Perhaps he’s into Asian midgets and his family has a problem with it. Don’t judge him.

4. Despite wanting to experience women with their senses, men do not like listening to women talk (if it has nothing to do with sex).

Something about our voices in non-sex mode make them think that we’re nagging all the time, even when we’re not. To get around this, they fantasize about putting something in our mouths to shut us up and keep us occupied. If I have to explain further what I mean, then you have been hiding under a rock on another planet in another dimension, way too long. If you do know what I mean, and you don’t like it, well, I don’t know what to tell you. Refer to #1 if you don’t like it.

5. Men like when women are available to them sexually.

 

When they tell you they like coming home to you wearing nothing but your high heels and an apron, they mean it. They don’t like women who are supposed to be their one and only making excuses about sex and not giving them sex. See # 1 and #4. Also, a man does not like a woman who is available to everyone else but him. Something about the idea of a chaste woman or something like that turns them on. I know, it doesn’t make sense, and it sounds backwards, but that’s how men are wired. If you don’t like it, well, I don’t know what to tell you.

6. Men love being around and associating with pretty women.

 

Especially pretty women with pretty faces and beautiful smiles. Men enjoy kissing women with beautiful faces and pretty smiles. They will do whatever it takes to have the attention of a pretty woman with a pretty face. If you have a pretty face, then you know what I mean. If you have a pretty face but scowl and sneer all the time, men are gonna ask you why you’re not smiling. Why? Because they’re trying to visualize your love faces, and don’t want their fantasy marred by a funky scowl. So stop sneering and scowling for God’s sake. If not for them, do it for the rest of us. If you don’t have a comely face, well, hopefully you can relate to #7. If you don’t fit either, well, I don’t know what to tell you.

7. Men love sex with women with hot bodies.

 

Women’s body parts make men want to have sex. And what I’ve learned is that what’s hot to one man may not appeal to another. However, most men find a small waist sexy. White guys like small everything, and many men of color love a small waist and a big ol ass. Some guys like big boobs. Some guys like all that with pretty feet and hands. Some men like big legs. So if you’re not sure, it’s best to ask, or look through his porn stash. Also, refer to #1 and #2 and #3.

8. Men will have sex with a woman with a hot body and a not-so-nice face if the opportunity arises.

 

But if he doesn’t kiss or look at you during sex, understand that maybe he doesn’t think your face is too cute to look at. If he’s always saying lemme get it from the back, chances are, he doesn’t think you have a cute face. Don’t take it personal. But don’t expect him to wife you, either just because you have a hot body and he likes to have sex with you. Think of yourself as a jump-off and be comfortable with that. If you don’t like what I’m saying, then take that up with the 3am booty call guy. Ask him. Just don‘t ask him after he hits it. He may tell you anything just to get you to shut up.

9. If a man can get a woman with a pretty face and a hot body, then he will think of himself as King of the World.

And so will his friends. And if he could make a tradeoff, he will take the pretty face over a hot hot body, because somehow men know that hot bodies only have a certain shelf life and that a pretty face, a truly pretty face, will last for a long time. Nothing about an ugly face makes a man want to settle down with the owner of said ugly face. So chances are, if you haven’t settled down with a guy, ever, and I mean this seriously….take a long, honest look in the mirror and think about what he sees when he looks at you. What you see and learn may surprise you.So, if you’re a woman with a hot body and a not so pretty face, you need to work on other skills, like cooking, cleaning, being a good listener, etc. And refer to #4. Oh. And even if you are a woman with a hot body and pretty face, you should be working on other skills, like cooking, cleaning, being a good listener, getting along with his relatives, etc.

Being a hot woman with a bitchy attitude can only take you so far.

10. Men don’t care for women who go on and on about how smart we are, how much money we make, and how many degrees we got.

 

Please refer to #4 if you find yourself going on and on about where you went to school and the fact that you have 8 master’s degrees and 2 doctorates and you make $200 million dollars after taxes. He doesn’t care about it, nor does he want to hear you yapping about it all the time. He’s even sensitive to the mere inference.Now he wants a woman who is well-read, can carry on a conversation about a host of issues, and laugh at his jokes. But what he doesn’t want is a woman who he perceives is competing with him for top dawg designation. From what I understand, he wants to feel like he’s the top dawg. If you don’t like this, I don’t know what to tell you.

So I can go on and on with this list, and maybe I’ll do a follow-up installment at some point in the near future about other things I’ve learned about men that my Mama forgot or didn’t care to tell me.

But I will leave you with this, ladies. Men are men, and they aren’t gonna change for us anytime soon, so it doesn’t help to bitch, moan, complain and gripe about the way men are. I’ve listened to a lot of complaints from women about men over the years, and I know I’ve engaged in some pretty intense bitchfests of my own. But no matter how much we bitch and moan, men are not gonna change. And there’s nothing you or I can do about it, except roll with it.

So, I’ve learned, as a woman, that it’s important to stay in my lane. I know that I have certain things going for me that I can play up for men, and there are certain not so good things about myself that I try to downplay so that the special man in my life won‘t see those not so good things as deal breakers. I don’t hate on men because of these things, I just accept them. It make life so much easier that way.

And ladies….the more time you spend bitching about how much you don’t need a man tells me and everyone else in the known universe that you really do want a man, deep down inside. I see it, and so do guys. So stop doing it.

That is all.

 Question for the ladies: What are some of the things that your Mama told you about men that turned out to be completely wrong?

          

Question for the men: What are some of the things you found that women learned from their mothers or friends that have been problematic for you? Is there anything on my list that is completely off-base?        

        

Speak your piece.
　

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The Way I See It Today: Valentine’s Day Pain Is Not Complete Without a Voodoo Doll.

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Today, I decided to break my “do not post on my blog on the weekend” rule.  I wanted to make an exception to my rule because as you all know, today is the day before Valentine’s Day and everywhere we go, we’re all reminded of this in one way, shape, form or fashion. 

The reality is, some of us may get lucky tomorrow, while others among us, may not.  Some of us may have already gotten lucky this weekend. Frankly, I don’t care to know.

At any rate, since I am your friendly thick chick with the click click (Hi Mark), I love pictures, especially those that have something unusual and offbeat to say.  And in the spirit of the true meaning of Valentine’s Day (yes, Valentine’s Day wasn’t a day for chocolate and romance, people), I came across, and wanted to share, this little piece of visual humor.

The above masterpiece is courtesy of a website I came across called PostSecret. 

This, my friends, is what happens to broken hearts once they realize that there will be no romantic Hallmark cards, no chocolates, no roses, no teddy bears, no bling, no lingerie, no hotsexonaplatter or no happy endings involving hot oil and satin sheets with a hot girl or hot guy.  

This is the place where folks go when they realize that there is no chance in hell that they will be boo’ed up today, tomorrow or anytime soon.  It’s a dark place, illuminated by brutal and sadistic visions of pain, revenge and utter destruction.

Let’s review:

  1. Former Congressman Christopher Lee:  He probably feels a little bit pissed off right about now and is wondering where he might be able to get himself a custom-made doll.  Damn Craigslist.  His wife may need one of these as well.  Perhaps she’s already put in her order.
  2. Mary Harvey, the second (and hopefully the last) ex-wife of Steve Harvey, is probably is feeling like sticking a few pins in a Steve Harvey doll of her own.  Damn YouTube and damn that gag order.
  3. And let’s not forget Halle Berry.  Now I’m sure she has a few of these (remember David Justice? Wesley Snipes) and some sharp tacks hidden away in her dresser or chest of drawers.  Her latest relationship disaster resulted in her not only getting passed over by Kim Kardashian, but now she’s embroiled in a bitter custody battle for her daughter.  She may need to add a new voodoo doll to her collection.

At any rate, Happy Valentine’s Day! 

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The Way I See It Today: The Internet Needs a Root Canal.

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“I do not believe anyone can be perfectly well, who has a brain and a heart” – Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

 

If you spend a significant time on the Internet like I do, it’s easy to come to the same conclusion that Mr. Longfellow does in the above quote.

I do not deny that there are a lot of amazingly talented and smart and accomplished people out there in cyberspace. I also do not deny that many of these same people are damaged goods, whose hearts and minds are in need of healing and perhaps some clinical intervention. 

Despite their brokenness, they have a right to form online communities, express themselves and band together to advance shared beliefs, an agenda or a cause. 

What they don’t have the right to do is be disrespectful and flat-out crude, rude and socially unacceptable to other people who simply have a differing opinion.

Nor does one’s right to freely express oneself give anyone the right to drown out dissenting voices via blaming and shaming. For those of us who have any degree of insight to the human condition, people who engage in blaming and shaming tactics are seen as doing this to camouflage their own prejudices, blind allegiances and personal shortcomings.

I must confess. There is something seductive and strangely gratifying about being able to craft an online persona, to move anonymously from forum to forum, bashing and hating on others without anyone having a clue who you are and what kind of baggage you tote around.

But occasionally, we come across some stranger online who writes something so brutally honest, perceptive and brilliantly insightful, that their words seem to cut through our bullshit. Their words seem to peer directly into the depths of our souls.

We hope to goodness that this person doesn’t really know what we know about ourselves, and most of the time they don’t. We know this but we feel like we‘re being exposed, stripped bare and put on display.

But before we’ll ever admit to being found out, we lash out. We go on the defensive.  And if we’re lucky, we’ll ring the alarm so that a whole bunch of other broken people can cosign our online temper tantrums or our irrational and hate-filled rants where we make generalizations about people we don’t like or people we don’t care too much about because one person brought the truth to our doorstep and it made us squirm.  And if we’re really good, we can get that person banned or their blog or website shut down.

Is this a victory for freedom of expression?  I don’t think so.  It’s a victory for groupthink and I’m here to tell you that this is not a good place for us to be.

Sadly, the Internet has reached a tipping point. Perhaps it’s a reflection of what’s gone wrong with society in general these days. I’m not quite sure.

But I do believe that the time for honest self-assessment is upon us, and maybe one day, we’ll show Mr. Longfellow to be wrong as two left shoes. I hope this day is sooner than later, because the Internet is beginning to seem like it’s in desperate need of a root canal.  Or maybe an enema or a colonic.

What sayeth you?  Do you think that there are corners of the Internet that have devolved into a cesspool of hateful groupthink ? Has truth-telling on the Internet gone underground?  And if so, why do you think this is?

Speak your piece.

The Way I See (and Hear) It Today: (I Think) Marvin Would Be Pleased.

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Dwele
Image via Wikipedia

 So I’m up late, working on images and listening to my iPod and this song by Dwele (neo-soul  singer, songwriter and producer) fills my headphones.  

It’s entitled “How I Deal” (from his newest release, W.ants W.orld W.omen) and it features Slum Village.

.. so I’m listening to it and I’m like, damn..this is tight. Listen for yourself.

He’s a very talented songwriter with a sense of humor…that’s hot.

That’s all.  Just wanted to share this.  Happy Friday!

Disclaimer:  Before you Marvin Gaye fanatics run to your laptops, please understand that this is just my opinion. You don’t have to agree.

The Way I See It Today: My Bucket(Head) List.

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Cover of "The Bucket List"

Cover of The Bucket List

Good afternoon my friends,

I know you all are tired of hearing all of the gloom and doom on the news. I know I am.  Sometimes you just want to have a good laugh and relax.  As the world falls apart around us, poking fun at ourselves, our frailties as human beings, our faults and our missteps, is, to me, the best way to put all of this craziness into perspective .  So I decided to write a post that does just that.

As I ventured out today into the snowy, icy tundra that is northwest Philadelphia, I got to thinking:  Why am I out here again?  I’m risking life and limb to check my mail? That’s gotta be one of the dumbest things I’ve ever done.

And then this thought led to another, more profound question:  What has got to be the dumbest thing I’ve ever done? (No, not that.)  The other dumb stuff I’ve done in life?  Stuff I’ve done that was so stupid that I wouldn’t even tell my best friend about it?  And what if I compiled all of these dumb and stupid things that I’ve done into a Bucket(Head) List?  This would be a twist on the premise of the movie, The Bucket List, where Morgan Freeman and Jack Nicholson are terminally ill and decide to do all these fabulous things and go to all these awesome places before they die.  {DISCLAIMER:  No, I’m not terminally ill, and no, I’m not on my deathbed, and no, I don’t want to go to Disneyland.} 

So as I was walking (read slipping and sliding) down the street to the Post Office, I began itemizing (inside joke) and prioritizing my list, in a way only a true Virgo could.  So now that I’m back home, I am proud to debut, to you, my loyal readers, my Bucket(Head) list.  Folks, I did a google search, and I’m here to tell ya….you’re not gonna find a Bucket(Head) List anywhere else.  You are gonna see tons of Bucket Lists.  Why?  Because everyone likes to show off and one-up everyone else. 

See, I’m not all about trying to impress people. I don’t need to tell you where I’ve been and what I own.  People who do that are very insecure and spend too much time trying to cover up their insecurities by showing how great they are.  Me?  I have no problem telling you how screwed up I am. Why?  Because I hope that someone out there can learn from my mistakes and have a good laugh at my expense.  No matter what anyone thinks about me, I may fall down, but you damn sure better believe this:  If I fall down, I’m gonna pick myself, dust myself off and keep on going.  And you better believe I won’t keep making the same dumb mistakes because I’m too afraid to say to myself that I effed up. 

At any rate, I hope, for a brief moment, it’ll take your minds off of what’s going on in Egypt, Tunisia, Jordan, the economy, the Dems vs. the GOP vs. Obama vs. the Tea Party, and Snowtorious B.I.G. (thanks Cliff) that’s barreling down on the Rockies, the Midwest and the East Coast.  They say that over 100 million people will be affected by this storm.  Do you realize that’s like 1 out of 3 Americans (and counting)?  Know your facts and make sure you’re protected (oops, this isn’t an STD PSA.  My bad).

Okay here goes my Bucket(Head) List:

1.  Opening a can of soup and realizing that it needs milk and all you have is water. Why didn’t I see this WHEN I WAS AT THE STORE AND COULD HAVE GOTTEN MILK???  Dumb.  Anyway, I fixed the soup, added water, and didn’t notice anything less spectacular about it.  So maybe this wasn’t so dumb after all.  *shrugs*  Besides.  I’m lactose intolerant anyway.

2. Walking gingerly in the snow to avoid slipping on the ice, and stepping right in some dog poo.  ARGH!!! Eff it, I’m gonna just walk like I’m taking no prisoners next time. Might as well, because chances are not only will I step in a steaming pile of poo, I’ll slip and fall on the ice.  That’s killing two birds with one stone, and my friends, that’s efficiency at its best.

3.  The bleached blond loc phase.  That was dumb. Very dumb.  It pains me to look at pictures of myself during that dark era of my life.  And no, I won’t post any, so don’t ask.

4.  St. Louis.  Another dumb move.  Seven years of my life I’ll never get back.  Coincides with #3.

5.  Undergraduate classes/coursework.  Again.  4 years of my life I’ll never get back.  I don’t use any of that crap I learned, and I’m still trying to pay on my student loans.   And then they got the nerve to call and email for donations?  GTFOH. 

They need to find a way to let people skip college and go straight to grad school.  Hell, if a high school basketball player or football player can get drafted straight into the pros, then why can’t I?  What’s the point of spending four of my best years in college when all I did was is drink, eat greasy food, go to lame parties, skip class to watch bad tv and play cards til 4 in the morning?

6.  Relaxed hair.  I’m not knocking all my black and brown sistafriends who do the chemical straightening thing, but I know my limitations, and I should have stopped doing that ish in 1988.  I’m still trying to recover from all that frying and dying of my precious locks (see #3). Besides, have you ever stopped to think about what we may be absorbing into our brains via constant use of those chemicals??  Brain damage, anyone?  Maybe we’re not crazy because we’re black, but we’re crazy because we’re poisoning our brains and altering our brain chemistry.

7.  Credit cards are the devil. No further explanation necessary.  Most of the stuff I bought on credit, I don’t even own anymore.  What’s the point?

8.  Quitting my job later rather than sooner.    I was talking to someone earlier today and the person pointed out that a lot of my respiratory problems (coughing, hacking, upper respiratory infections, wheezing, and all out behaving like Steve Urkel) I was experiencing while working in the Bronx went away after I left my job.  Go figure! 

So basically, all I was doing in sticking it out was aiding and abetting my own death. Isn’t that like suicide?? Dumb!!  The takeaway for me was this:  No job is worth losing your health, family, friends, sanity or peace of mind.  If you value your job more than those things, then you, my friend, are losing.

9.  Pretending to be friends with people I don’t even like. How many years have I lost behind that?  Too many to count here. 

10.  And last, but certainly not least:  Not being there for my family in their time of need.  See number 8:  Wash, rinse, repeat.

So, here’s the question of the day:  If you could write your own Bucket(Head) List, what would be your Number One item and why? 

The Way I See It Today: Carol Moseley Braun = EPIC FAIL.

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Carol Moseley Braun

Image via Wikipedia

Hello my friends,

It’s your friendly, cantankerous, moody and contemplative photographer/social commentator  on a fiercely cold Saturday afternoon, taking up the gauntlet to write a little something something about former US Senator and city of Chicago mayoral candidate, Carol Moseley Braun.  The challenge came as a result of the following:

1.  A post I wrote about the inaugural meeting of the Crispus Attucks Tea Party (the first black Tea Party organized by Anita MonCrief and others down in Houston, Texas) held on January 18th.  In my missive, I dared to suggest that this move by everyday African-Americans, who have grown tired of the same-ol’ same-ol’ okey-doke from the Democrats (primarily) AND the Republicans (yes, they’re guilty of the same, to a lesser extent, so I don’t wanna leave them out), should have both parties pretty concerned as they head into the 2012 presidential election cycle. 

Bottom line:  African-Americans with options elsewhere want intelligent and reasonable options when it comes to politics, as well.  We’re tired of being taken for granted and we’re tired of hearing the same old thing from career politicians. 

2.  And this is what prompted the challenge, I believe.  I was perusing my Facebook feed and came across this, courtesy of The Black Report via reporting by cbschicago.com and WBBM Newsradio 780′s Regine Schlesinger.  Frankly, I had forgotten that Senator Moseley Braun had added her name to the mayoral dance card, and was curious to know why she was poking her finger in the eyes of President Bill Clinton and former Obama chief of staff Rahm Emanuel, who has also decided to run for mayor of Chicago. 

Basically, her camp put out a statement that amounts to beef with Bill for coming to Chicago and casting his support for Mr. Emanuel.  In one move, according to Ms. Moseley Braun, Bill Clinton has abandoned Black folks who have supported him every step of the way.   Consider this quote: 

“The African-American community stood by Bill Clinton when he had his toughest times, with Monica Lewinsky and other issues,” Braun said, “and for him to parachute into Chicago to support a candidate who probably does not live here is just bad.”

Really? 

You KNOW I just had to comment..here’s what I wrote in response to the Black Report’s post on Facebook:

And why is Carol Moseley Braun running for mayor again?? Maybe if she used this opportunity to self-promote we’d know why. She sounds like a hater, even if what she’s saying is true. Old jedi mind tricks aren’t gonna work on voters in 2011 or 2012.

Not surprisingly, I was not alone….many Facebookers got on to express their disapproval with her comment, many of whom are Chicagoans like me.  

So what conclusion will your average African-American voter draw from this?  Because Bill abandoned me, a Black person living in the city of Chicago, I should vote for Carol? 

That’s it?

I’m not trying to be funny here, but I’m guessing that Ms. Moseley Braun can, if she really wanted to, develop and execute a brilliant strategy and case for support regarding why she, the first African-American female to be elected to the United States Senate, should be mayor of America’s third-largest city. 

With all of her credentials and experience, she should be ripping her opponents to shreds in the press, not playing the race card.  I mean, if she was able to do it back in the early 90s, she should be able to do it now.  Right?  Apparently not. 

So what do you do, when you’re an African-American candidate for mayor of Chicago and you want to appeal to your base of support?  You play the race card (check), and you go back to da ‘hood and talk about all the violence, bloodshed, unemployment and hopelessness, and what you plan to do about it (check). 

Roll the tape. Let me warn you…this clip is graphic.  If you don’t have a strong stomach, don’t watch.

  

EEEEEWWWWW!!!  This stinks to high heaven.  Nothing about this clip makes me want to move back home, register to vote and cast my ballot for her.  Nothing.

Why?  Englewood has been hot for yeeeeeeaaars! There’s nothing new to talk about here, Ms. Moseley Braun.   Where was she with all these innovative strategies in 2010? 2009?  2008?  2007? 2006 ? 2005?  2004? 

The Chicago of the early 21st century may have the same problems, Ms. Moseley Braun, I grant you this. But one thing has changed: People are tired of all of you career politicians, parachuting into our communities, lying to us to get our vote, and then chasing the big payout once you get into office.

This is pathetic. 

Go to 4:52 if you will.  Ms. Moseley Braun acknowledges here that she doesn’t know the unemployment rate in Englewood (glass shatters) and that she has to defer to the ministers (glass shatters again).   This is a tacit admission that she doesn’t really know her constituents  and she’s too lazy to care.  Sheeeeeiiiiit…you should be better prepared, my sista.  This is not acceptable.  

Another thing:  Ms. Moseley Braun dodged the bullet back in the 90s regarding that little situation she found herself in with her fiance, but she’s not, I repeat, not going to be able to dodge questions in 2011 about her track record and fitness to steward public resources.  She has her colleagues  in the Congressional Black Caucus to thank for that….a special shout out goes to Charlie Rangel, Maxine Waters, Sheila Jackson Lee, Sanford Bishop for making it all possible.  We’ll see if she has what it takes to go toe-to-toe with Rahm “Rahmbo” Emanuel.   

Bottom line, Ms. Moseley Braun:  You wanna be mayor, you need to come with something better than the same ol’ remixed political vomit that we’ve been force-fed since the Voting Rights Act was passed.  Now is not the time for playing the race card, especially when there is a movement afoot among African-Americans to explore other options that may actually go beyond skin color.

Maybe Ms. MonCrief needs to take a trip to Chicago and mix things up a little bit.  We drink black tea in Chicago, by the way.

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The Way I See It Today: Do What You Can. Let It Go. And Keep It Moving.

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Hello everyone, and thanks for reading my first “The Way I See It Today” post of 2011.

I just want to warn you.  This post is gonna be a tad bit harsh. Why do I say this?  Well, the past two years, for me, have been about tentative beginnings, false starts and painful endings.  Not for other people, but for me.  See, life kinda caught up with me.  I was so busy caring about other people’s problems, that mine kinda snuck up on me and drop kicked me in the teeth.

What have I learned?  That no one really cares about your problems unless you are somehow sacrificing yours for theirs.  That no one really cares if you live or die.

So I’ve adopted a new attitude for 2011.   I can only do what I can, and then when there’s nothing left for me to do, let it go (note:  I borrowed this line from a blog post I read last night….the light bulb went off in my head immediately!), and keep it moving.

Lemme explain why this can be problematic, especially if you’re attempting to have meaningful relationships with other people.

Sometimes people expect you to do way more for them than they really deserve.  They expect you to smile when you don’t want to, be pleasant when you don’t feel like it, laugh at their stupid jokes when they’re not really funny, listen to their problems over and over when you know and they know that they have no interest in solving them, and kiss their asses because everyone else has in the past and they think that you should, too.

Other times, people expect you to care more about their crap than they even do.  You’re supposed to stop what you’re doing and be constantly available to them.  You’re supposed to take them back and forgive them even when they break their promises and fail to keep their word.

Well, that ended on December 31, 2010 at 11:59 p.m.

Yep, folks, 2011 is a new year, and I have a new attitude.  I realize that I am taking a huge risk in saying this, but I’m going to say it anyway.

I don’t give a F*CK.

News flash:  I can’t be at my best all the time…I’m only human.  I have flaws.  I have moods.  I get scared.  I have doubts.  Not just about me, but about you and your place in my life.  And I’m not going to lie.  It feels good to be actually doing something about it after all these years.  Because I have to admit..I was a coward when it came to standing up for myself.

NOT ANYMORE…..

I’m pleased to report that my new attitude has had an immediate, measurable effect on my social life.

For instance, I was told to get lost yesterday.  So that’s what I’m going to do. 

A few weeks ago I was told by someone else pretty much the same thing. That’s what I did.

As far as I’m concerned, these people are dead to me. You know who you are.  You’re DEAD to me…..two less people I will have to concern myself with in the coming year. A lot less dead weight. Good.

And guess what?  I’m gonna be alrite.  And so will you….when you pull your head out your ass.

I am also pleased to report that there will be more where that came from.  I can’t wait!

It feels great to let go!

P.S.  I have a short attention span in 2011.  Don’t expect me to remember or care about every single detail of your miserable lives, either.  I’m getting too old and my short-term memory doesn’t work that well anymore.

By the way, I love the tags that are being generated for this post.  Good clean fun!

The Way I See It Today: Great Depression, Mancession….Not Much Has Changed, Has It??

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(Picture from the Franklin D. Roosevelt Library, courtesy of the National Archives and Records Administration.)

Today, I’m reading American Experience:  Working In America by Catherine Reef.  As the title suggests, work and what it means to be American are forever intertwined, sometimes inexplicably, other times (and more often than not), plainly and clearly (and darkly, depending upon who you ask). 

:-)

While  reading a chapter on the Great Depression, I came across this passage, which was an anonymous letter to FDR in 1936 from a 12-year-old boy:

“I’m a boy of 12 years…My father hasn’t worked for 5 months. He went plenty of times to relief, he filled out application. [sic]  They won’t give us anything. I don’t know why….We haven’t paid 4 months rent, Everyday the landlord rings the door bell, we don’t open the door for him.  We are afraid that will be put out, been put out before, and don’t want to happen again.  We haven’t paid the gas bill, and the electric bill, haven’t paid grocery bill for 3 months.  My brother goes to Lane Tech High School.  he’s eighteen years old, hasn’t gone to school for 2 weeks because he got no carfare.  I have a sister she’s twenty years, she can’t find work.  My father, he staying home.  All the time he’s crying because he can’t find work.  I told him why are you crying daddy, and daddy said why shouldn’t I cry when there is nothing in the house.  I feel sorry for him.  That night I couldn’t sleep. …Were [sic] American citizens and were born in Chicago, Ill. and I don’t know why they don’t help us….” 

 – From Down and Out in the Great Depression (McElvaine, ed., p 117)

Hmmmm….. “I don’t know why they don’t help us…”

Powerful words from a precocious 12-year old boy from my hometown almost 75 years ago.

I wonder what an average 12-year-old (boy or girl) in 2010, forced to watch his unemployed father (remember, this is a Mancession, although plenty of men lost their jobs during the Great Depression) or mother attempt to stave off the sharks, wolves and vultures would say if I asked him if he or she felt that the government was doing all it could to help them stay above water? 

Do you think would his/her response be any different from the boy’s from 1936?  Probably not.

And that 12-year-old may be insightful enough to offer concrete reasons in support of his answer, given his access to the Internet and the 24/7/365 news cycle….

Puts a little something on your mind, doesn’t it?

And for a country that purports to value hard work, earning an honest living, and being productive, why is it so hard for America’s best and brightest to find sustainable, meaningful and proactive ways to get people back to work?  Why are we dragging our feet on this? Shouldn’t this be our first priority?

And why must it require that people in crisis jump through endless hoops of fire and brimstone just to get the level and type of transitional assistance that can help them maintain a decent standard of living for themselves and their families?  Do we really want people in need to be able to do what is necessary to stabilize their living situation?  Or do we secretly delight in scapegoating and shaming others who have fallen on hard times so that we can make ourselves feel better? 

And why do I feel like, when it’s all said and done, that Americans just don’t give a damn about your average American worker?  If we did, someone please explain to me why November 2nd went the way that it did. 

It all seems so simple, but ask yourself…if a child can get it, why in the heck can’t we??

(UPDATE, May 13, 2011:  At the end of April 2011, the national, seasonally adjusted unemployment rate continues to be a staggering 9%, as per the Labor Force Statistics from the Current Population Survey.  I wrote this post in November 2010.  What is the freakin problem?)

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The Way I See It Today: This is Me. Take It or Leave It.

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Taken 10-22-2010 in Jersey City, NJ

I started my own loc journey 8 years ago this month.  I cut off my relaxed (and badly damaged and stressed out)  hair, wore a short Afro and then took the plunge, never looking back, and never regretting my decision to stop relaxing my hair.  They’ve been much longer, but right now, I’m wearing them red and short, after cutting them for the last time last month.  My locs have become a part of me in a way that is hard to explain, but when I’m stressed out by negative energy, my locs will tell me in their own special way to make some changes, quick fast and in a hurry.  And once I make the necessary spiritual and mental adjustments, my locs course-correct on their own.

Anyway, to commemorate the 8 years of wearing my hair this way, I’m reading a book entitled Dreads by Francesco Mastalia and Alfonse Pagano.  Author Alice Walker wrote the introduction.  The book takes the reader on a journey around the world, from New York to Jamaica to New Zealand and India, of what it means to loc one’s hair.

Throughout history, hair has always been a battleground, where the cultural met (and clashed with) the spiritual and the spiritual met (and fought with) the political.   For for all who wear locs (and those who love us), our hair represents freedom and independence from what Westerners have socialized us to believe, that hair (particularly kinky hair, regardless of race or ethnicity), symbolic of the wearer’s indomitable will and fiery spirit, should be tamed, subjugated, conquered and made to submit. 

And submit we did, especially if you wished to reap the rewards that Western society choses to bestow on those who conform.  But is it really worth it?  Check out this NY Times article if you dare.

At any rate, here are some quotes from people profiled in the book that really inspired me to finish retouching my self-portrait:

“Our hair is symbolic of our status as servants.” (Mamadou Diof Ndiange, Baye Fall Elder, Senegal)

“…Locks connect me to the land of wood and water…” (Peter Wayne Lewis, painter, NYC)

“Father created the man:  Man created the comb.” (Jimmy McGhan, Rasta, Jamaica)

“Dreads reaffirm my status as a chosen one, a child of Africa.” (Pierre Thiam, chef, Senegal)

“My dreads cannot be ignored, my message cannot be ignored.” (Chinna Smith, musician, Jamaica)

 ”You don’t have to have straight hair to be beautiful.” (Cheryl Brown, model, NYC)

“Society is not geared toward giving us confidence.” (Maxine Walters, film producer, Jamaica)

“I wear Ndiagne, ‘strong hair.’” (Amadou, Baye Fall, Senegal)

“I had two choices:  Go bald or grow locks.” (Hilda Thompson, market researcher, NYC)

“I believe in the rules of decorum, so, what the hell, I’ll put on a suit if the occasion calls for it.  If they say you have to wear a tie to get into their restaurant, fine.  But if they say you have to cut your hair to do business with them, not so fine.” (Nile Rodgers, music producer, NYC)

“Many Jamaicans were imprisoned simply because they wore dreads.  Not everyone who has dreads today realizes the political history attached to them.” (“Junior” Marvin, musician, Jamaica)

“Dreads were a way of embracing the evolving idea of myself.” (Vernon Reid, musician, NYC)

And yes, we do wash our hair.  :-)

Peace and blessings.

The Way I See It Today: Black Girl Pain is Nobody’s Gain.

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Earlier this week,  I was sitting in the library thinking about my own girls and watching some of the neighborhood kids study by themselves and with each other. 

As the afternoon wore on, I decided to pull out my camera because I was intrigued by a young girl with braids.  You may say, so what, she had braids.  Well, those of you who know me, really know me, that I really study people and will hone in on one or two things that make that person stand out.  Well, with this young lady, she had purple hair woven throughout her braids.  And I thought about my own 13-year-old daughter, who probably would have done the same thing, as she loves and adores anything purple.

As I aimed my camera at her, I took a few shots, without her noticing.

Finally, I aimed again, and she looked directly at me.  I looked back.

I wasn’t sure what she was going to say or do, so I smiled. 

She smiled back.  She had a toothy smile, kind of awkward, typical of a young girl not quite sure of her own power, not comfortable in her own skin, not fully aware of her own self-image. 

I was glad, however, to see that there was still some innocence there.  It warmed my heart because I know that sometimes little girl innocence can sometimes be taken away quicker than a New York minute, by no fault of their own.

I found out later she was 12 years old.  I didn’t find out her name, though. She told me that she had to work on a project and that she needed to concentrate on what she was doing. 

I got up and walked over to her, and offered to show her the image.  As she looked at the live view screen, two other girls at the table jumped out of their seats and asked if I could take their pictures.  They clamored and bounced around and spoke with such urgency that it was clear to the library staff that we were disturbing the other patrons.

Well, to be honest with you, I really wanted to take pictures of some of the kids in the neighborhood, but as many people know, you have to be really careful because people are really sensitive about their kids. I don’t blame parents for being over-protective.

I asked them to come back to my table.  I took some shots, including this picture of a 9-year-old girl who clearly has artistic talent. 

She let me see her drawings in her spiral-bound notebook.  She talked about how she loves to draw and how she can’t wait to be 10 in January.  She asked if she could see my camera and take some pictures. 

I told her yes.  I showed her how to hold the camera, and noticed that her little fingers were struggling to reach around the base like I can do so easily with my grown woman fingers.  I was nervous, but you know what, I said, eff it. 

I said yes, because I didn’t know how many times this little girl has heard no in her life. 

No, not now.  No, we can’t.  No, we don’t. 

No is a painful word, especially if it isn’t balanced with a few strategically placed yeses from time to time.

She zoomed in, like a pro and pressed the shutter button.

She shot this picture of her 10-year-old friend.  When I looked at it in the live view screen, I said, you have so much talent.  Wow.

After the mini-photo shoot, they sat at my table, chatting and laughing and attempting to finish their homework.  They talked about their mothers, their dreams and aspirations, what they had in common, their likes and dislikes, and all the things that little girls talk about before boys enter the picture, sometimes shattering it. 

It still manages to amaze me that faces like theirs can provoke so many feelings across the spectrum both inside our community and in the mainstream.  Feelings of hate, misunderstanding, loathing, disdain, and dismissal, like these little girls aren’t worth our effort. 

Some may disagree and say that kids in our neighborhoods are not our problem and that their parents should do their jobs.  As a parent, I don’t disagree with this notion. 

However, I say this:  if you have a talent and you come across a young person who can benefit from you sharing your gift (yes, your gifts.  A higher power saw fit to bestow you with your gifts and talents and that same power can see fit to take them away if you’re not careful), what will it hurt to reach out and take a moment to connect with a child?

I’m not saying that you have to be that child’s parent.  But damn, I can point to several people in my life who took a moment to give a damn about me.  They weren’t my parents.  But they cared anyway.  I shudder to think about how my life would have turned out if they didn’t give a damn about me.

Sometimes it can just be an encouraging word, a smile, a conversation that might make the difference in a child’s life.

I may never see these girls again.  But I promised them that I would put their pictures up on my blog.  And I try to keep my promises. 

Who knows how many promises weren’t kept in these girls’ lives?

I don’t.  But I will damn sure keep mine. 

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