oh Father
in my time of distress be my comfort
be my rock my strongtower
hide me in the shadow of your love
my heart is sore pained with grief and worry
my eyes too naive to sing their own song
be my strength
i know you are where i am not
and can be where i cannot
be there Lord.
Jehovah Rapha
heal what they cannot find
Oh Jehovah Shalom
bring your peace to a most
tempestuous situation
send your comforter
in my stead.
you admonished us to visit the sick
forgive me for being unprepared
hear my heart oh God
i know you are there Jehovah Shammah.
el elyon in my distress
pass me in your visitation if it means
wholeness and favor and peace
for my friend.
thank you for your sacrifice
that i may approach you so boldly
hear me God
your child cries out to you oh God.
in love i ask
in love you give.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
mothers and daughters part two
when i was a little girl, i thought my dad was the most awesome person who ever lived. he could do anything. he made me feel special and loved and pretty and smart and good. a lot of people talk negatively about him as a person, which is hurtful to me, because i love him so, but that's what ignorant people do. he treated me like i was the most important thing in the world to him, and when he died, it created a chasm in my soul that will never be filled. another chasm was created by my mother's mother after he left, that i know now was happening because my daddy wasn't there with his love to counteract. love protects you, it shields you from the barbs and arrows, the erosion of the soul that negativity can cause. i never felt lonely or sad around my father, never felt unwanted or unloved. that's how the woman who reared me made me feel. that's the shift i was speaking of in part one. the shift from something to nothing that takes place when we choose to insult or demean children, girls in particular. no matter what the world says about you, you can negate it or ignore it if you have someone telling you how beautiful and intelligent and worthy you are at home, in your haven, your safe place. but if that place is also a cesspool of insecurity and anger and peril, then you have nowhere safe to go. what do you do then? you seek that goodness in places where, unbeknown to you, it cannot be found.
i was never promiscuous. even though i didn't know much about sex or whatever, i knew i didn't want to be "that girl", so i didn't engage in those activities. but i did start drinking at a very early age. i think i was like 12 when i realized that alcohol made me numb, and numb felt good. it's in my pathology to drink and drink heavily, so it happened. when i got to college, and the alcohol was more readily available, i felt a sense of release that no matter what happened, i could drink it away. i also started smoking weed and popping pain pills. i was addicted to numbness, to the dulling of the senses, the desensitization of my body, and my soul and the quieting of my spirit from the screaming, angry hurt that had been heaped on my head. the lie that i told myself was, it's okay because i'm not "that girl" and i can hold my liquor so it can't be that bad. it wasn't really. but it was still damaging.
we place an obscene amount of pressure on our daughters. to be pretty, and manner able. to be attractive and sociable. to be good and smart, and we don't pause to consider societal pressures, peer pressure, and the internal pressures they also must be experiencing. so when our daughter is gaining weight, or moody, we just assume it's because she doesn't like us. or she is just going through a phase. we don't pay attention. bulimia and anorexia affect our community too. let's talk about it. the pressure to be skinny, shapely, beautiful is deeply ingrained in a woman's psyche. remember the example of the confident woman and the breaking down of her image for our own satisfaction? what differentiates her from the others? her self esteem. regardless of where her esteem has its genesis, or whether or not it is genuine or a front, it is tangible. and it is dangerous to someone who has none. to tell your daughter she is beautiful should be like second nature. if not, i would have to question whether or not you feel you are beautiful. if no one told you, start telling yourself, then it will be easy to tell your daughter she is also beautiful, if for no other reason than she is yours and you are beautiful. we can counteract promiscuity, drug abuse, bad behavior, poor body image and a host of other negative energies, habits and experiences with love . love protects. let it marinate.
in my mind i am 15. sometimes 13. not necessarily those two ages per se but around that maturity level at times. not the giggly simple girl. but the shy naive one to be sure. i don't feel beautiful or pretty. i used to obsess about gaining weight or getting blemishes on my skin. let's watch the cycle shall we? ok.
my great grandmother was a tall, shapely, dark skinned woman. she married a tall, handsome dark skinned man. they both, being somewhat fresh off the plantation, had white blood in their genes, so when they had children, 3 of them were light skinned, and two dark skinned. that happens in our community alot. my great grand father died when his youngest child was around 12. that left my grandmother with 6 children to feed (they had adopted another child from within the family, as is customary in our community), and a farm to maintain. she told her daughters and grand daughters not to marry dark skinned men because they were no good. this is coming, again, from a dark skinned woman who married a dark skinned man. he died and she was bitter. now don't think i'm disrespecting my elders or ancestors with my language, i'm simply trying to highlight sentiments and emotive energies that have been passed through my bloodline. so, her daughters and grand daughters married (with the exception of one) light skinned men. the boys married light skinned women. so cycle number one is color bias. my grandmother, who is light skinned, married a light skinned man because the dark skinned man she was in love with wasn't acceptable to my great grandmother. she settled for the man who looked better and had a better standing financially. she settled. she was getting older (in her mid twenties) and the pressure to be married in those days was intense. especially in our community. so she married. and they had a child, my mother, who was brown skinned, and of course female. my grandmother, who was already insecure and hurt and bitter, felt slighted by this lil brown skinned girl child because her husband adored the baby, and ignored her as a wife. they separated off and on. the little girl caught hell. because she was brown and female. 8 years later, they had another child. a light skinned boy with hazel eyes. but the boy came out different, special, and in those days he would have been overlooked because of his mental deficiencies. so even though he is the boy they both wanted, he is useless because he isn't "whole". they separated completely, and that left my grandmother in the same position her mother had been in, single mother, rearing children, working, with a man somewhere else. independent and bitter. cycle number two.
now my mother, who by all accounts was a woman among women, was mistreated by this bitter, lonely, angry, hurt, insecure woman. she was progressive. when she met my father and i was conceived , she was just fine with rearing me alone unmarried. but at that time she could have lost her job for being an unwed mother (she was a teacher. interesting how the moral code has changed for teachers), so she waddled into a courthouse with my father and they got married. he was light skinned, she was brown, i am brown (pecan tan is what the crackhead told me). when i was born, it started over. first child is brown and female. and she catches hell from the matriarch. this thing has trickled down through three generations. and i believe had my mother still been alive it would have stopped with her. but it will indeed stop with me. go back into your genealogy and find the cycles that keep you and your family in bondage. BREAK THEM!
in my grandmother's house, i had to bleach my skin (didn't work), i had to watch what i ate (she hated fat people), i had to keep my hair a certain way (she hated nappy heads, imagine how she felt when i let my soul glow in 03), i had to wear sunscreen and protective clothing (i was already too dark), and that's just the beginning. everything about me was wrong and most of it wasn't my fault. my eczema, allergies, eating habits, bowleggedness, body shape, all of it was WRONG. that's genetics. why are you mad at your child for what you and her father gave her? bitter much? disappointed in your misappropriation of your own genetic make up, attributes, strengths and weaknesses? love yourself so you can teach your baby how to love herself. pathology. my father's father was dark skinned, his mother very light. both of my brothers are dark skinned. their skin got darker and darker as they got older. my grandmother was so pissed when my brother's skin finally hit that last lil dark chocolate hue. she hated it. blamed it on summer camp. but it never went away. since he was a boy, the insults were fewer, but the color bias was still there. his daughter is a light brown skinned ball of energy with curly hair. that pleases her. but if it gets nappy, she's unhappy. break these cycles honey.
i watched her mistreat darker skinned people. "poor" people. less educated people. it affected me. i watched how she cloaked her skin in product after product to protect it's color. i saw how good she felt standing next to her darker relatives because of her skin color. this is the craziest and dumbest ideology to witness. it was simply a flip of the genetic coin that gave her that complexion. to this day she swears her father said she and other two other lighter skinned sisters were the favorite because they were light and beautiful, and that her darker skinned sister was mean and evil to them because she was jealous. it couldn't have been because she was a jerk from day one? nah. had to be the melanin. girl stop.
the father is the protector. he is the rock behind which the girl child can be shielded from the mess of the world. daddy's little girl. some women hate the relationship their daughters have with their fathers. jealous, bitter women. he married you, you birthed her. realize your worth and your place and stop being an asshole. who is he protecting her from? YOUR BITTER CONFUSED ASS. stop it. she should be able to find that in both parents, not just him. she should be able to look up to you and up at you to find her example of finer wombmanhood. greater personhood. why do you think a woman will stay in a relationship that is abusive and detrimental? he said i love you. he said you're beautiful. he gives her dirty little love trinkets that could have been beautiful treasured jewels from YOU. but you wouldn't give or couldn't give because what? you weren't raised that way. clearly it didn't work for you either. stop handing your daughters your duffel bags of death. FREE HER and yourself from that bondage. be the mother you wish you had, and if you had a loving, supportive, God fearing mother, be that to your child. overcome your issues for her sake, and together the two of you can break these ridiculous, deadly cycles. if you don't have daughters, be that to some little girl somewhere. a child can never have enough motherly love. i know i found myself in MANY a perilous and unnecessarily poisonous situation because i wanted my grandmother to love me. she didn't, so i looked for it in other places, with other people, doing and experiencing things i could have avoided if only...
i admire women who have great relationships with their mothers. open loving interactions that are strong and almost tangible in their deliciousness. these relationships breed strong generations, and perpetuate strong women who help build nations.as a wombman you have power. use it. stop acting like what you say and do doesn't affect or effectuate changes in your child's life. i was told i'd never be good enough, smart enough, that i was ugly and no one would ever want me. i'm STILL trying to shift myself from nothing to something in my mind. thank God for Jesus.
and now, the bullets.
* if you heard somebody talking negatively about your child you would be ready to(and some of you will) fight them to the death for what they said right? why don't you punch yourself in the mouth then, because they're just repeating what you put into the air in thought and deed.
* when you learn that life and death are in the power of the tongue, will you be ready to face what happens when your child confronts you with the death sentence you gave them?
* God created the entire universe and everything in it with words, what are you creating with yours?
* when children die, parents are left with regret and pain. the pain i understand. why regret?
* if your child left here tomorrow, would they know you loved them?
* would you let someone talk to you the way you talk to your child?
* sticks stones break bones, words break people.
* if you don't tell your daughter she's beautiful, some man or some other woman will, are you ready for that?
i was never promiscuous. even though i didn't know much about sex or whatever, i knew i didn't want to be "that girl", so i didn't engage in those activities. but i did start drinking at a very early age. i think i was like 12 when i realized that alcohol made me numb, and numb felt good. it's in my pathology to drink and drink heavily, so it happened. when i got to college, and the alcohol was more readily available, i felt a sense of release that no matter what happened, i could drink it away. i also started smoking weed and popping pain pills. i was addicted to numbness, to the dulling of the senses, the desensitization of my body, and my soul and the quieting of my spirit from the screaming, angry hurt that had been heaped on my head. the lie that i told myself was, it's okay because i'm not "that girl" and i can hold my liquor so it can't be that bad. it wasn't really. but it was still damaging.
we place an obscene amount of pressure on our daughters. to be pretty, and manner able. to be attractive and sociable. to be good and smart, and we don't pause to consider societal pressures, peer pressure, and the internal pressures they also must be experiencing. so when our daughter is gaining weight, or moody, we just assume it's because she doesn't like us. or she is just going through a phase. we don't pay attention. bulimia and anorexia affect our community too. let's talk about it. the pressure to be skinny, shapely, beautiful is deeply ingrained in a woman's psyche. remember the example of the confident woman and the breaking down of her image for our own satisfaction? what differentiates her from the others? her self esteem. regardless of where her esteem has its genesis, or whether or not it is genuine or a front, it is tangible. and it is dangerous to someone who has none. to tell your daughter she is beautiful should be like second nature. if not, i would have to question whether or not you feel you are beautiful. if no one told you, start telling yourself, then it will be easy to tell your daughter she is also beautiful, if for no other reason than she is yours and you are beautiful. we can counteract promiscuity, drug abuse, bad behavior, poor body image and a host of other negative energies, habits and experiences with love . love protects. let it marinate.
in my mind i am 15. sometimes 13. not necessarily those two ages per se but around that maturity level at times. not the giggly simple girl. but the shy naive one to be sure. i don't feel beautiful or pretty. i used to obsess about gaining weight or getting blemishes on my skin. let's watch the cycle shall we? ok.
my great grandmother was a tall, shapely, dark skinned woman. she married a tall, handsome dark skinned man. they both, being somewhat fresh off the plantation, had white blood in their genes, so when they had children, 3 of them were light skinned, and two dark skinned. that happens in our community alot. my great grand father died when his youngest child was around 12. that left my grandmother with 6 children to feed (they had adopted another child from within the family, as is customary in our community), and a farm to maintain. she told her daughters and grand daughters not to marry dark skinned men because they were no good. this is coming, again, from a dark skinned woman who married a dark skinned man. he died and she was bitter. now don't think i'm disrespecting my elders or ancestors with my language, i'm simply trying to highlight sentiments and emotive energies that have been passed through my bloodline. so, her daughters and grand daughters married (with the exception of one) light skinned men. the boys married light skinned women. so cycle number one is color bias. my grandmother, who is light skinned, married a light skinned man because the dark skinned man she was in love with wasn't acceptable to my great grandmother. she settled for the man who looked better and had a better standing financially. she settled. she was getting older (in her mid twenties) and the pressure to be married in those days was intense. especially in our community. so she married. and they had a child, my mother, who was brown skinned, and of course female. my grandmother, who was already insecure and hurt and bitter, felt slighted by this lil brown skinned girl child because her husband adored the baby, and ignored her as a wife. they separated off and on. the little girl caught hell. because she was brown and female. 8 years later, they had another child. a light skinned boy with hazel eyes. but the boy came out different, special, and in those days he would have been overlooked because of his mental deficiencies. so even though he is the boy they both wanted, he is useless because he isn't "whole". they separated completely, and that left my grandmother in the same position her mother had been in, single mother, rearing children, working, with a man somewhere else. independent and bitter. cycle number two.
now my mother, who by all accounts was a woman among women, was mistreated by this bitter, lonely, angry, hurt, insecure woman. she was progressive. when she met my father and i was conceived , she was just fine with rearing me alone unmarried. but at that time she could have lost her job for being an unwed mother (she was a teacher. interesting how the moral code has changed for teachers), so she waddled into a courthouse with my father and they got married. he was light skinned, she was brown, i am brown (pecan tan is what the crackhead told me). when i was born, it started over. first child is brown and female. and she catches hell from the matriarch. this thing has trickled down through three generations. and i believe had my mother still been alive it would have stopped with her. but it will indeed stop with me. go back into your genealogy and find the cycles that keep you and your family in bondage. BREAK THEM!
in my grandmother's house, i had to bleach my skin (didn't work), i had to watch what i ate (she hated fat people), i had to keep my hair a certain way (she hated nappy heads, imagine how she felt when i let my soul glow in 03), i had to wear sunscreen and protective clothing (i was already too dark), and that's just the beginning. everything about me was wrong and most of it wasn't my fault. my eczema, allergies, eating habits, bowleggedness, body shape, all of it was WRONG. that's genetics. why are you mad at your child for what you and her father gave her? bitter much? disappointed in your misappropriation of your own genetic make up, attributes, strengths and weaknesses? love yourself so you can teach your baby how to love herself. pathology. my father's father was dark skinned, his mother very light. both of my brothers are dark skinned. their skin got darker and darker as they got older. my grandmother was so pissed when my brother's skin finally hit that last lil dark chocolate hue. she hated it. blamed it on summer camp. but it never went away. since he was a boy, the insults were fewer, but the color bias was still there. his daughter is a light brown skinned ball of energy with curly hair. that pleases her. but if it gets nappy, she's unhappy. break these cycles honey.
i watched her mistreat darker skinned people. "poor" people. less educated people. it affected me. i watched how she cloaked her skin in product after product to protect it's color. i saw how good she felt standing next to her darker relatives because of her skin color. this is the craziest and dumbest ideology to witness. it was simply a flip of the genetic coin that gave her that complexion. to this day she swears her father said she and other two other lighter skinned sisters were the favorite because they were light and beautiful, and that her darker skinned sister was mean and evil to them because she was jealous. it couldn't have been because she was a jerk from day one? nah. had to be the melanin. girl stop.
the father is the protector. he is the rock behind which the girl child can be shielded from the mess of the world. daddy's little girl. some women hate the relationship their daughters have with their fathers. jealous, bitter women. he married you, you birthed her. realize your worth and your place and stop being an asshole. who is he protecting her from? YOUR BITTER CONFUSED ASS. stop it. she should be able to find that in both parents, not just him. she should be able to look up to you and up at you to find her example of finer wombmanhood. greater personhood. why do you think a woman will stay in a relationship that is abusive and detrimental? he said i love you. he said you're beautiful. he gives her dirty little love trinkets that could have been beautiful treasured jewels from YOU. but you wouldn't give or couldn't give because what? you weren't raised that way. clearly it didn't work for you either. stop handing your daughters your duffel bags of death. FREE HER and yourself from that bondage. be the mother you wish you had, and if you had a loving, supportive, God fearing mother, be that to your child. overcome your issues for her sake, and together the two of you can break these ridiculous, deadly cycles. if you don't have daughters, be that to some little girl somewhere. a child can never have enough motherly love. i know i found myself in MANY a perilous and unnecessarily poisonous situation because i wanted my grandmother to love me. she didn't, so i looked for it in other places, with other people, doing and experiencing things i could have avoided if only...
i admire women who have great relationships with their mothers. open loving interactions that are strong and almost tangible in their deliciousness. these relationships breed strong generations, and perpetuate strong women who help build nations.as a wombman you have power. use it. stop acting like what you say and do doesn't affect or effectuate changes in your child's life. i was told i'd never be good enough, smart enough, that i was ugly and no one would ever want me. i'm STILL trying to shift myself from nothing to something in my mind. thank God for Jesus.
and now, the bullets.
* if you heard somebody talking negatively about your child you would be ready to(and some of you will) fight them to the death for what they said right? why don't you punch yourself in the mouth then, because they're just repeating what you put into the air in thought and deed.
* when you learn that life and death are in the power of the tongue, will you be ready to face what happens when your child confronts you with the death sentence you gave them?
* God created the entire universe and everything in it with words, what are you creating with yours?
* when children die, parents are left with regret and pain. the pain i understand. why regret?
* if your child left here tomorrow, would they know you loved them?
* would you let someone talk to you the way you talk to your child?
* sticks stones break bones, words break people.
* if you don't tell your daughter she's beautiful, some man or some other woman will, are you ready for that?
Saturday, March 12, 2011
it's been a while. i apologize. hopefully, this will serve as atonement. during my days as a full time "caregiver", i do alot of internet perusing. i don't do it because i'm bored. i have a very active mind and thought process, and so, when i come across a new thought or am introduced to new or interesting concepts, i research them.
i am, regardless of my opinion, feeling, or desire, a woman. i have a womb. and this comes up in conversation sometimes, with people from every angle. guys wanna know if i have any children. my friends and some relatives (i do not call them family) want to know when i'll settle down and have a baby. i used to resent this line of questioning for several reasons. today, in an attempt to honor the insight i gained during my 3 day consecration, i will expose the reasoning, espouse its validity or absurdity and tell you about why this is relevant to being snookered. follow me.
in the african american community, women often do not feel a sense of joy at the coming of a girl child. i think this topic is a bit more relevant since one of my best friends had a baby girl yesterday, and a few days earlier another bff's sister had a baby girl. so we've been welcoming new women to the world this week. but in some circles, little girls are not welcome. they are undesired because the girl can often symbolize or signify insecurities that the mother has about herself or her idea of the female archetype. little girls represent the beginning of a new life that can give life to a nation, and that causes problems in homes where there is an alpha female, which is every house. in my house, as an alpha female in training, i experienced the things that i'm about to now discuss, and this is not an attempt to spew feminist theory, this is an opportunity to bring light to a very dismal situation.
the initial point i want to make about having little girls is that we talk to ourselves with such disdain and disgust that when we see another wombman, young or old, we cannot help but to be critical, vindictive, or malicious. think i'm wrong? ever seen a woman with a lot of self confidence walk into a room? ever see the looks on the faces of the other women in the room who do not possess the same level of confidence? if that woman walks in, head up, back straight, aura on bright, smiling and willing to be sociable she attracts attention from people because she's sending off vibrations that let the room know she is in the building. we will break her ass down won't we? come up with whatever little nit picky thing we can to somehow tarnish her image, if only in our own minds, so we feel better. and don't catch your man lookin at her... then it's a real problem. but why? because you don't feel good about you? he's with you? get your weight up! (or down, be real)
think now about how we talk to our girl children. critical, mean, insulting. it's almost as if we've forgotten being a little girl and having those things said to us. we've forgotten what they felt like, the stinging, painful words that are the product of a pathology of pain going back to slave row where the brown woman was raped to make cafe au lait babies who had different hair and were then treated better. that lesson burned deep into the generational psyches of black people in america like the need for swine and greens. but here we go. calling them lil nappy headed gals. lil sluts. fast ass split tails. calling them heifers. my gramma used to call me heifer, slut, bitch, whatever. one day, my piano teacher was over (and she swore i was trying to do him, i was 10 or 11 and still had no idea how sex even happened) and i called someone on television a slut. he asked me if i knew what it meant, i said, "no, but that's what my gramma calls me" i wish i could have taken a picture of his face. i remember that vividly. he looked confused. which let me know that what was going on was wrong. this is where it begins. when you, as a wombman, insult, demean and place negative energy on the head of a child, male or female, you are causing a shift in that child's psyche that you cannot repair. as the facilitator of birthdays, you cannot allow yourself the room to speak to a child like you would speak to a grown woman. if you don't want your daughter to be a whore, then don't be a whore. and don't call her a whore if you feel she has those tendencies. talk to her about it. let her know how you feel about it. talk TO her, not AT her and most importantly not ABOUT her. teach.
teach your child to be a lady. to be a strong woman. and that's the problem. we've lost the paradigm of the strong black woman to her ignorant cousin, the strong black surviving female. the daily grind of trying to feed, clothe, house, educate, endoctrinate and maintain a life has cast a shadow on motherhood for many women. i could go into how the black man and blah blah blah. read the willie lynch letter and we'll talk. my gramma was retired. she had time to be at home in my business all the time. to my detriment. she didn't teach me about being a woman per se. certain aspects of my wombmanhood are so foreign to me at 29, i'd rather just skip them. like dating, being open to a relationship, the concept of marriage or motherhood. i will tell anyone i don't want children, or to be married but that wasn't always true. we'll go into that later. but we must teach our girls to respect themselves, each other and their womb. it's sacred. it's special.
little girls turn into little wombmen when their pituitary gland goes off and says to the body "okay, let's go". i know it's more complicated than that, but this is my blog. one day we're happy and pretty and playing and the next we're cramping, and irritable and bloated and bleeding. and we've all been told that this is the curse. it is a curse. for little black girls, this is the time when we go from being the apple of the eye, to the lil fast tailed heffa that lives in my house. it has to happen. we know that because we went through it. what i don't understand is why do we not make this a bigger deal? i remember watching the cosby show, when rudy got her period, and thinking, when i have kids (cause at that time i wanted 5 kids) and my daughter has her period, that's what i'm going to do. make it special. it's a rite of passage. from girlhood into the beginnings of wombanhood. and we act like these children are now supposed to know how to be an adult because their hormones and bodies change... how? my gramma went from being mean to being a complete asshole when i got my period. now mind you, i was 8 when my dad died, and i think the stress and trauma from losing him made my cycle come a bit earlier than it probably should have. it came on approximately a year after he died. and i remember feeling bad and telling her what was going on and she basically told me to go outside and stop lying. now, this is in the middle of the summer and it's hot and nobody was outside but me and i'm kinda scared cause i don't know what in blazes in going on with me and she's telling me to go outside and stop lying. not the fanfare i expected. she put me on hold until she could figure out what to do with me. and it was and has been hell ever since.
we push our daughters into situations and experiences that we don't want them to be in or have because of how we treat them. want a whorish child? call her a whore daily, exhibit whorish behavior and laud it, make her feel bad about who she is in any way. and there it is. i know i know, it's not that simple. but what if it is? what if the reason our daughters are having so much trouble in this world is because we haven't prepared them, haven't loved them, and haven't set the right example for them? you mean as a parent there's more of a responsibility than the physical? the financial? the political? you mean there's more. i guess. i'm not a parent. but as a person who is holding out hope.... yeah.
"I'M NOT HAVING CHILDREN OR GETTING MARRIED" became my mantra in high school. probably because several of my friends both at my school and those i knew in other cities and states were having kids. and some of my female cousins had kids as well. not good. because then i had to undergo the scrutiny of having my underwear checked at all times, having to turn in my calendar every month with my period marked out, and having other things done to me to "check me out" and make sure i wouldn't have to be fixed (refer to the pic above). i decided that since my childhood and life had been so fucked up i wasn't going to risk fucking up someone else's life, and so. no kids for me. and it didn't help that i felt (and still feel to some extent) that i probably won't be able to find anyone who will love me enough to marry me. remember when i told y'all about causing a shift in your child's psyche? in my mind, i'm like 15 years old. sometimes 13. i know i'm 29, and i know i'm adult, but i don't often see myself as an adult because i was never treated like an adult. or a human being. i was treated like an obligation. and that's how i feel in most of my adult relationships. when i actually have been in a relationship, i have always cut it off before it got to serious. i probably could have been married by now, but i decided to put my other pursuits before marriage and motherhood as a defense mechanism. the scrutiny has been so great that if i do decide to get married, it'll probably be a very small ceremony where i'd have to fly the people in you can't just show up to the reception. same with kids. some people won't know i have any until they're like 3. whatever.
HERE COME THE BULLETS!!!!!
the truth is, i think i'd be an excellent mother. because i believe down deep in my spirit that my greatest legacy will be my children. the fruit that i bear. my niece, and all little girls whose lives i will have any connection to will be treated, at least by me, like princesses, if for no other reason that it takes a whole village to make a woman.
i am, regardless of my opinion, feeling, or desire, a woman. i have a womb. and this comes up in conversation sometimes, with people from every angle. guys wanna know if i have any children. my friends and some relatives (i do not call them family) want to know when i'll settle down and have a baby. i used to resent this line of questioning for several reasons. today, in an attempt to honor the insight i gained during my 3 day consecration, i will expose the reasoning, espouse its validity or absurdity and tell you about why this is relevant to being snookered. follow me.
in the african american community, women often do not feel a sense of joy at the coming of a girl child. i think this topic is a bit more relevant since one of my best friends had a baby girl yesterday, and a few days earlier another bff's sister had a baby girl. so we've been welcoming new women to the world this week. but in some circles, little girls are not welcome. they are undesired because the girl can often symbolize or signify insecurities that the mother has about herself or her idea of the female archetype. little girls represent the beginning of a new life that can give life to a nation, and that causes problems in homes where there is an alpha female, which is every house. in my house, as an alpha female in training, i experienced the things that i'm about to now discuss, and this is not an attempt to spew feminist theory, this is an opportunity to bring light to a very dismal situation.
The curse of being a little black girl
the initial point i want to make about having little girls is that we talk to ourselves with such disdain and disgust that when we see another wombman, young or old, we cannot help but to be critical, vindictive, or malicious. think i'm wrong? ever seen a woman with a lot of self confidence walk into a room? ever see the looks on the faces of the other women in the room who do not possess the same level of confidence? if that woman walks in, head up, back straight, aura on bright, smiling and willing to be sociable she attracts attention from people because she's sending off vibrations that let the room know she is in the building. we will break her ass down won't we? come up with whatever little nit picky thing we can to somehow tarnish her image, if only in our own minds, so we feel better. and don't catch your man lookin at her... then it's a real problem. but why? because you don't feel good about you? he's with you? get your weight up! (or down, be real)
think now about how we talk to our girl children. critical, mean, insulting. it's almost as if we've forgotten being a little girl and having those things said to us. we've forgotten what they felt like, the stinging, painful words that are the product of a pathology of pain going back to slave row where the brown woman was raped to make cafe au lait babies who had different hair and were then treated better. that lesson burned deep into the generational psyches of black people in america like the need for swine and greens. but here we go. calling them lil nappy headed gals. lil sluts. fast ass split tails. calling them heifers. my gramma used to call me heifer, slut, bitch, whatever. one day, my piano teacher was over (and she swore i was trying to do him, i was 10 or 11 and still had no idea how sex even happened) and i called someone on television a slut. he asked me if i knew what it meant, i said, "no, but that's what my gramma calls me" i wish i could have taken a picture of his face. i remember that vividly. he looked confused. which let me know that what was going on was wrong. this is where it begins. when you, as a wombman, insult, demean and place negative energy on the head of a child, male or female, you are causing a shift in that child's psyche that you cannot repair. as the facilitator of birthdays, you cannot allow yourself the room to speak to a child like you would speak to a grown woman. if you don't want your daughter to be a whore, then don't be a whore. and don't call her a whore if you feel she has those tendencies. talk to her about it. let her know how you feel about it. talk TO her, not AT her and most importantly not ABOUT her. teach.
teach your child to be a lady. to be a strong woman. and that's the problem. we've lost the paradigm of the strong black woman to her ignorant cousin, the strong black surviving female. the daily grind of trying to feed, clothe, house, educate, endoctrinate and maintain a life has cast a shadow on motherhood for many women. i could go into how the black man and blah blah blah. read the willie lynch letter and we'll talk. my gramma was retired. she had time to be at home in my business all the time. to my detriment. she didn't teach me about being a woman per se. certain aspects of my wombmanhood are so foreign to me at 29, i'd rather just skip them. like dating, being open to a relationship, the concept of marriage or motherhood. i will tell anyone i don't want children, or to be married but that wasn't always true. we'll go into that later. but we must teach our girls to respect themselves, each other and their womb. it's sacred. it's special.
little girls turn into little wombmen when their pituitary gland goes off and says to the body "okay, let's go". i know it's more complicated than that, but this is my blog. one day we're happy and pretty and playing and the next we're cramping, and irritable and bloated and bleeding. and we've all been told that this is the curse. it is a curse. for little black girls, this is the time when we go from being the apple of the eye, to the lil fast tailed heffa that lives in my house. it has to happen. we know that because we went through it. what i don't understand is why do we not make this a bigger deal? i remember watching the cosby show, when rudy got her period, and thinking, when i have kids (cause at that time i wanted 5 kids) and my daughter has her period, that's what i'm going to do. make it special. it's a rite of passage. from girlhood into the beginnings of wombanhood. and we act like these children are now supposed to know how to be an adult because their hormones and bodies change... how? my gramma went from being mean to being a complete asshole when i got my period. now mind you, i was 8 when my dad died, and i think the stress and trauma from losing him made my cycle come a bit earlier than it probably should have. it came on approximately a year after he died. and i remember feeling bad and telling her what was going on and she basically told me to go outside and stop lying. now, this is in the middle of the summer and it's hot and nobody was outside but me and i'm kinda scared cause i don't know what in blazes in going on with me and she's telling me to go outside and stop lying. not the fanfare i expected. she put me on hold until she could figure out what to do with me. and it was and has been hell ever since.
we push our daughters into situations and experiences that we don't want them to be in or have because of how we treat them. want a whorish child? call her a whore daily, exhibit whorish behavior and laud it, make her feel bad about who she is in any way. and there it is. i know i know, it's not that simple. but what if it is? what if the reason our daughters are having so much trouble in this world is because we haven't prepared them, haven't loved them, and haven't set the right example for them? you mean as a parent there's more of a responsibility than the physical? the financial? the political? you mean there's more. i guess. i'm not a parent. but as a person who is holding out hope.... yeah.
"I'M NOT HAVING CHILDREN OR GETTING MARRIED" became my mantra in high school. probably because several of my friends both at my school and those i knew in other cities and states were having kids. and some of my female cousins had kids as well. not good. because then i had to undergo the scrutiny of having my underwear checked at all times, having to turn in my calendar every month with my period marked out, and having other things done to me to "check me out" and make sure i wouldn't have to be fixed (refer to the pic above). i decided that since my childhood and life had been so fucked up i wasn't going to risk fucking up someone else's life, and so. no kids for me. and it didn't help that i felt (and still feel to some extent) that i probably won't be able to find anyone who will love me enough to marry me. remember when i told y'all about causing a shift in your child's psyche? in my mind, i'm like 15 years old. sometimes 13. i know i'm 29, and i know i'm adult, but i don't often see myself as an adult because i was never treated like an adult. or a human being. i was treated like an obligation. and that's how i feel in most of my adult relationships. when i actually have been in a relationship, i have always cut it off before it got to serious. i probably could have been married by now, but i decided to put my other pursuits before marriage and motherhood as a defense mechanism. the scrutiny has been so great that if i do decide to get married, it'll probably be a very small ceremony where i'd have to fly the people in you can't just show up to the reception. same with kids. some people won't know i have any until they're like 3. whatever.
HERE COME THE BULLETS!!!!!
- we treat them like we don't want them, even tell them so and then get offended when they get pregnant at 14 and have an abortion. well....
- they go off and have sex and now you're ashamed because she's being labeled in the streets... did you tell her how special her virginity was? did you tell her she needed to love and respect herself and she didn't have to look for that kind of attention?
- we kill more babies than spermicide but we won't talk to our kids about sex? stop acting like it's not happening. TALK TO YOUR DAUGHTER!
- we don't stay in positive healthy lasting relationships... nuff said
- we sit by and turn a blind eye to sexual abuse and then are embarrassed when little Tiffany comes home butched out and wants to be called Big T. really?
the truth is, i think i'd be an excellent mother. because i believe down deep in my spirit that my greatest legacy will be my children. the fruit that i bear. my niece, and all little girls whose lives i will have any connection to will be treated, at least by me, like princesses, if for no other reason that it takes a whole village to make a woman.
Related Articles
- flowers for my grandmother (meanttosayit.wordpress.com)
Sunday, January 16, 2011
division and derision
i must admit, i didn't really know what the next topic would be for this blog. it's a project that was placed on me by the holy spirit and so, i must be obedient and not fly off into my own interpretations and delusions when i speak. with that said, a few moments ago i was given this topic and we shall see where it goes.
as a tutor and teacher, i always try to find commonalities between the familiar and the unknown. the familiar being what you know, and the unknown being what i'm trying to teach you. with my literacy class, i draw the commonalities between sounds and experiences to help my students understand just how many words they actually do know, in an effort to teach them new concepts. when i tutored mathematics, i told my students that addition and multiplication were about increase, and adversely, subtraction and division about decrease. division, is the breaking apart of a whole into pieces, and subtraction is the deduction of a piece from the whole. follow me.
sometimes, in relationships, we come to a point where there must be a subtraction of sorts. even when we relate to ourselves, we often feel it necessary to take away those unsavory things that we believe are causing us strife or are hindering our success. within friendships, be they an awesome twosome or a circle of sister-friends, there can be division.
maybe you and keisha are getting along better together than you keisha, kim, allison, sheena, and michelle. slowly, you and keisha break apart and are simply just cordial to the rest. visits and outings become more few and far between. you miss the others, but... someone just had a baby and you'd love to go see her but... someone else is getting married but...there's really no love lost, but there's no love gained either. the division of a group, the breaking apart of a whole into pieces can be a natural progression or a manufactured dissection. either way, what once was, is no more. and how do we deal with that?i'll ask you to ponder this, the enemy comes to steal, kill and destroy. he is cunning and tactical, aiming at the heart, mind and body until the soul is all at once weary and screaming uncle. he operates in an endless cycle of subtraction and division to bring about derision. taking you away from good people and good experiences so that in the end he can ridicule you in the midst of your loneliness and heartbreak.
when was the last time you really thought about how your relationships end? today, i found myself not brooding but simply thinking in earnest about how the friendships i've had over the years have ended. what was the genesis of the split? did i lose anything or gain anything from my departure? would it have been worth salvaging instead of just walking away? some people i've reconnected to, but it feels as if there's an elephant in the room because we never talked about why we dissolved the friendship. the enemy at once tried to convince me that there are yet people in my life who need to be tossed aside. people i need to separate myself from in order to rid myself of the frustration and loneliness i felt today. isolated from my friends by space, time and obligation, i often find myself in a rut when i get voicemail and no chance to hear their voices. it's tough. but i'm tougher.my point in all this is, we must be careful, mindful, thoughtful about how we interact with each other. the ultimate goal in life is to know and experience unending abounding love. God loves us, and He allows us to interact with each other so that we too can know and understand love while we are in these homes of flesh. this life, in comparison to eternity is but a flash in the pan, we may as well make the kinds of choices and decisions that will lead us to an enjoyable experience before it's over. acts of love. with each other, for each other. try it.
Friday, January 14, 2011
It's a love thing
this blog is about an act of love. last night, i was watching
beyond scared straight on a&e and i had an epiphany of sorts. the women in that institution were given a most auspicious and indeed golden opportunity. to tell the "younger versions" of themselves to get their lives together or else.... i watched in awe as the most hardcore inmates wept with their "mini me" in one on one sessions. it made me think; what would i say to myself if i could go back in time? what advice would i give me? what would i warn me about? and most importantly what mistakes would i allow myself to make again?
so then i thought, i wonder if my friends would do it too? not that i need a group to complete a writing assignment. i mean really, i have not one, not two, not three but FOUR blogs, and i write on facebook a little too regularly. and i contribute to my friends blogs. i'm a word nerd, i accept it.... now. but that's exactly my point. i wondered how the people i know now as successful, prolific, beautiful black women started off, or if they too ever had phases of insecurity, doubt, ridiculous opposition, self loathing, pressure from unnecessary sources. how did they deal with it all? hell, did they deal with it all and if so, what did they learn in dealing?
i decided, after writing it all down in my journal, to ask them. it took me all day today to muster up the nerve to put the question out there, but i did. i wrote down 48 names and ended up sending a message to three groups of my friends on facebook. i started with a simple question:
would you like to be a part of something huge?
and this is going to be huge. this is a love act of mammoth proportions. if someone had come to me with this material, when i was young, and sad and alone. when i was ostracized for being different. when my self loathing was so crucial i got dressed in the dark. if someone would've come to me and said, "hey, it's okay, i've been there. it gets better, and so do you. you're gonna make it. you're special and i love you." if i would have had some of THAT. oh boy. and that's my goal. to give some of that. some of that let me reach back into my life, let me touch this scar, this reminder of what i went through and overcame, and help you to look forward. sankofa love project.
let's do it.
beyond scared straight on a&e and i had an epiphany of sorts. the women in that institution were given a most auspicious and indeed golden opportunity. to tell the "younger versions" of themselves to get their lives together or else.... i watched in awe as the most hardcore inmates wept with their "mini me" in one on one sessions. it made me think; what would i say to myself if i could go back in time? what advice would i give me? what would i warn me about? and most importantly what mistakes would i allow myself to make again?
so then i thought, i wonder if my friends would do it too? not that i need a group to complete a writing assignment. i mean really, i have not one, not two, not three but FOUR blogs, and i write on facebook a little too regularly. and i contribute to my friends blogs. i'm a word nerd, i accept it.... now. but that's exactly my point. i wondered how the people i know now as successful, prolific, beautiful black women started off, or if they too ever had phases of insecurity, doubt, ridiculous opposition, self loathing, pressure from unnecessary sources. how did they deal with it all? hell, did they deal with it all and if so, what did they learn in dealing?
i decided, after writing it all down in my journal, to ask them. it took me all day today to muster up the nerve to put the question out there, but i did. i wrote down 48 names and ended up sending a message to three groups of my friends on facebook. i started with a simple question:
would you like to be a part of something huge?
and this is going to be huge. this is a love act of mammoth proportions. if someone had come to me with this material, when i was young, and sad and alone. when i was ostracized for being different. when my self loathing was so crucial i got dressed in the dark. if someone would've come to me and said, "hey, it's okay, i've been there. it gets better, and so do you. you're gonna make it. you're special and i love you." if i would have had some of THAT. oh boy. and that's my goal. to give some of that. some of that let me reach back into my life, let me touch this scar, this reminder of what i went through and overcame, and help you to look forward. sankofa love project.
let's do it.
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