Unhappy?

Let’s assume for a second you exist in this country with the same inalienable rights as the rest of us. If you’re reading this, I assume you’re not a 5-year old child scavenging for food in Bangladesh. I assume you have access to clean running water, medicine, and internets.

Fulfilled all those criteria? Awesome. Unhappy? Brace yourself –

IT’S PROBABLY YOU.

Lately, I’m noticing a trend whereby many of us (myself included) bemoan a life of unhappiness while simultaneously making little to no effort to change it. Ironically, the people in the best positions to change their own lives seem to complain the most about the unwillingness of, or lack of enthusiasm in other people to change it for them.

Who died and made the rest of us responsible for your inner glow?

Now let’s be clear, I definitely recognize depression as a clinical illness. But many of us aren’t clinically depressed. We’re just in a shitty situation that we’d rather not be in - and instead of just accepting the choice we’ve made when we choose to stay, or making the alternative choice to leave, we’d rather bitch, cry, and moan about how someone else could’ve fluffed the pillows nicer on the bed we chose to lie in.

I haven’t live very long, but this one thing I know – happiness can’t be found. Kind of like Dorothy looking for home in the Wizard of Oz. Home is within. Happiness is within.

Sometimes, you just gotta stop trying to be happy and just be.

And sometimes, YOU have to decide to change your unhappy situation for YOURSELF.

Happiness sprouts the moment you decide you ain’t taking it no more and walk out of that life-sucking relationship.

Happiness blooms the second you arrive at your wits end and vow to quit that dead-end stress-filled job.

Happiness blossoms when you make a decision to accept the choices in life you’ve made, count your blessings, and LIVE ON.

And when happiness is seeded into our lives, we must also accept that is our responsibility to cultivate and nourish it. Some of us have got to stop scurrying around like life is one big ass sale and we’re mad at the saleslady because the two-for-one tank tops are sold out. Some of us need to just start realizing that we haven’t made a sufficient effort to keep our own selves happy. *looks in the mirror*

So, here’s to owning our emotions! *sips honey Jack*

And here’s to not waiting for 2013 to do so! *takes another swig*

Happy Kwanzaa! And Happy New Year!

Blonde Hair, Don't Care

WARNING: RANT COMING

If I catch one more skillet-fried, black-as-me, chocolate black woman tryna pull off silky blonde hair, imma snatch her by her wig and slam her face against a beauty salon window.

Violence? Yes, VIOLENCE. EARLY. Look ma, that look ain’t for you. IT’S NOT FOR YOU!!! Trust me, you look ridiculous with those goldie-locks. I can assure you no one’s fooled into thinking that’s your natural hair color. What’s more, it just doesn’t look good. Leave blonde to the Mary J. Blige’s and T-Boz’s of the world. It was never meant for the Naomi Campbell’s and India.Aire’s.

Don’t believe me? I can prove it to you. Watch this.

This is Naomi Campbell.

This is Naomi Campbell on blonde.

Any questions?

But, for serious. Bright hair distracts from a dark-skinned woman’s main attraction: her skin.One undeniably awesome feature of blue-black skin is glow. No blemishes. All that melanin blocking out the UV rays makes for softer, supple, strokable, wrinkle-free skin that stands the test of time. You’re obliterating your natural radiance with that mop of straw you’ve slapped up there. And why? That’s like putting vanilla icing on a chocolate cake. I mean… it can be done, and of course it’ll do in a crunch. But if given a choice, who’d wanna ruin the chocolate experience with pasty white goo? I mean… If you’re gonna have some chocolate cake, have some chocolate icing on it for the love of Jehovah.

*sigh* Ok. This blog’s gone too far. Rant complete.

I don’t know why it especially turds my soup to see dark-skinned girls making bone-head beauty moves. Maybe I should blog more about it - somebody’s gotta tell these girls about the perils of tangerine gloss over purple lips. Perhaps a little more delicately next time? I dunno…*shrug*

Ahl holla.

Thanks, You.

Blind. Crippled. Deaf. 105 years old. Who’d really be there for you?

For me, that list is short. That list is short for most people. Especially those of us who don’t have children. Sadly, that list is still short for many of us that do.

What causes a person to voluntarily tend to someone else in there time of need? I’ve seen a woman invest all her lifelong love into a child and be ignored by that very same child in her time of need, only to be rescued by another she’s ignored all her life.

It’s all about the values instilled in us.

Prayerfully, there is something inculcated in each individual that directs tending to the elderly, the sick, and the disabled. It is each of us, knowing right from wrong, that decides to care for those in need among us. Ironically, in most circumstances, there is no amount of pain, love, neglect, or worship on the part of the one in need that will change that. It’s just who we are. Many have cared for someone they barely know in sickness or old age. Some have even come to the rescue of their own abusers in times of need.

My mother told me a story about my nephew today. Not even ten years old, he volunteers to take out the trash. Undoubtedly, he’s learned this from his parents. It occurred to me, without a doubt, this child will be there for his grandmother. In his mind this is simply how things are done, and I’m certain he will carry that with him into adulthood. Selfishly, I also realize this child will be there for me as well. No matter what. His parents have instilled in him this subtle thing of right and wrong that will guide how he treats people for the rest of his life.

In some selfish way, when we care for others and teach our children to do the same, we are really tending to ourselves. Raising a generation of children who’ll refuse to turn their backs on those in need. We’re leading by example. It’s something not only to be proud of, but to be grateful for. Grateful that this example will propagate through generations, thus serving us all.

Thank you to those who selflessly sacrifice for the well-being of others. It’s not said enough that you make the world a better place for us ALL.

patter

i remember
the precise patter
of his heart racing
beneath my ear

him?
I could do without
but his patter?
his patter, I miss

Can beautiful just let smart live?!

My bestie recently earned her doctorate in neuroscience. She’s gorgeous (no exaggeration). A few months ago, we were complaining about our abysmal dating experiences when I think I made her cry:

Her: “I’m real hopeful about the future.”
Me: “I’m not. You think shit gets better after grad school? I don’t. Negroes are already intimidated by brains… da f*ck you think gon’ happen when they hear you’re a Ph.D.? There’s no hope for either of us. It’s over. We’re gonna be spinsters.”

I speak harshly at times. Ok…most times… so I apologized. I can’t even say I really believe that - I was just having a moment. But beneath my point lies one nagging assumption:

Women can’t be too smart. If you are, no one will like you.


I just cringed typing that. Even looks bad written there. Mostly because I don’t want to accept that I’ve accepted that. But I have.

Enter Kanye West and his Runaway movie. He serves up Selita Ebanks as a feathered-out Phoenix – complete with 12 ft. wing span and 24-karat talons.



I truly enjoyed the flick and CAN’T WAIT for Kanye’s album. Runaway left me with three thoughts:

1) Damn! Selita Ebanks has some nice tetas! Are those things real?!?
2) “Your girlfriend is really beautiful… do you know she’s a bird?” – voted most memorable line. I’m still snickering at the double entendre, even if it wasn’t intended.
3) Society’s conceptualization of ultimate beauty in women is usually coupled with romanticization of naiveté.


I get it. Men fantasize about exposing women to new things and being eternally jocked because of it. Wide-eyed gratitude generally comes easier from dogs and toddlers – and stupid people. Accordingly, men cherish (subconsciously or not) ignorance in women. Oh, you can be smart… just don’t be too smart - meaning smarter than the cute boy you’re talking to.

I know there are men who find smart women to be the sexiest thing on the planet, but I’m willing to bet they’re in the minority. Also, I’ve found that a man’s fascination with a woman’s intelligence usually wears off quickly – right around the time when she’s right and he’s wrong. Suddenly, smart isn’t sexy anymore. Nope, then you’re just a bitch.

I dunno...maybe it’s just me. Perhaps some day I’ll learn to walk these fine lines between intelligent and bitch - between assertive and dike - between opinionated and shrew. Or maybe some day beautiful will go her own way, and just let smart be.

Black "Dating" Proposals

Of course I couldn't just let "Black Marriage Negotiations" slide!!

Who Cares About Black Male Privilege Anyway?

In a recent post, @TKOEd expressed concern regarding the terminology “Black Male Privilege.” Reasonable criticism from reasonable individuals always makes me pause to think. That’s when it hit me:

Why are Black women defining their grievances vis-à-vis Black men anyway?

On some multi-tiered dream-within-a-dream “Inception” type isht, the concept is about as patriarchal as it gets.

We must ask ourselves, what is the purpose of the Black Male Privilege debate? Is it not to articulate grievances of Black women in hopes that those injustices be eradicated?

If this is true, then we ought to express grievances of Black women in a narrative centered on Black women. We need not relegate Black women’s plight to a position beneath the thumb of Black men. Furthermore, there are enough communication difficulties between Black men and women in America today. I concede tossing up the word “privilege” if it means our intergender debates proceed productively.

If our purpose is to abolish injustices specific to Black women, we must begin our conversation on agreeable grounds (that’s Persuasion 101). The history of the Black man in America makes it extraordinarily difficult for him to swallow the idea of being an oppressor. Correspondingly, the Black Male Privilege debate has become divisive, and inevitably distracts us into a counterproductive and phallocentric discourse.

When we discuss the issues of Black women, let us discuss the issues of Black women, not the privileges of Black men. In that way, we keep the debate appropriately focused instead of derailing it into a conversation that ultimately buries our gripes (which is exactly the opposite of what we desired in the first place).