My Personal Blog from 2003 to 2011
You Gotta Remember
Good Times Lyrics
Good Times.
Any time you meet a payment.
Good Times.
Any time you need a friend.
Good Times.
Any time you’re out from under.
Not getting hastled, not getting hustled.
Keepin’ your head above water,
Making a wave when you can.
Temporary lay offs.
Good Times.
Easy credit rip offs.
Good Times.
Scratchin’ and surviving.
Good Times.
Hangin in a chow line
Good Times.
Ain’t we lucky we got ’em
Good Times.
Tonight?
I slept incredibly well last night.
Me and my pillows. No sons. I have finally got them trained to sleep in their own beds all night. ~whew~ It took forever. Especially since when I’m really uptight or lonely I would tip toe into their rooms and carry them one by one to my bed.
I have to train myself to sleep alone just as diligently as I trained them. It takes a strong women to sleep alone at night. To turn away from Mr. “He’s okay” and say, “I deserve more.” Even when “more” seems more like a fantasy than a plausible reality.
I meet men all the time. Like most women, as soon I step outside my door some dude is trying to say wuzzup. But I know that they just wanna rip, so I’m turned off easily. In fact, if you approach me you have a slim to none chance of hanging/dating me. I like to choose. I like to pick the man I get with.
I don’t know why that excites me, but it does. I always make the wrong choice like a dummy. For some reason I go for the guys who I feel might feel some sort of pride by being with me. These men aren’t necessarily cute but I hope they have good hearts and would appreciate all of the pampering I give to the special man in my life.
They don’t.
It pisses me off.
But I roll on anyway.
What makes a woman stay with a man who she KNOWS is not good for her? Why would she even put up with years and years of crappy treatment and immaturity when all she has to do is say NO MORE?
For some women, it’s about loneliness. They can’t imagine not being with a man. For others, it’s their upbringing. They saw Mommy or Big Sis rotate men out of their bedrooms for years and they think it is normal.
Some women don’t believe in the possibility of a man treating her well and coming into her life with good intentions so they say,”The mess I have now is better than the mess that’s out there.”
I have a close friend who is sure that ALL relationships have a healthy dose of drama, at least in the beginning. She expects it. So when she has drama with her boyfriend, she’s able to be more patient knowing that he’ll eventually get tired of the games and the secrets. She stays because she has seen the men in her life (father, stepfather, brothers) all start out as wild men and eventually calm down and turn into good husbands and fathers. She acts like the wildin out part is a part of the process.
I don’t know…
Why do I miss Dude so much? So many people will say it’s the secks, but it’s not. Maybe…50%. On the real, It’s his company. It’s the fact that he is the only person in Miami that I (used to) chill with on a regular basis. It’s kinda like he was my only friend. But since I was so frustrated because he wasn’t treating me like I was his girlfriend, I told him to leave me alone.
I kinda regret that.
But what can I do now? It’s a double edged sword. If I continue to see him and secks him, I know my feelings will multiply and a relationship is not where his head is right now. If I don’t see him, I’m stuck taking out my sexual frustration on my friends and making them stay on the phone with me until I fall asleep so I won’t call him and tell him to come over.
My girl Ruby said, “10 years from now, you’re gonna look back at this guy and laugh cuz he’s gonna be so far from your memory. Our whole lives are gonna be different.”
Yeah. That may be true.
But what about tonight?
Another 30 Years
My heart is so heavy this morning. On my way to take my son to school I heard on the radio that Lio.nel Tate was sentenced to 30 years in prison for violating his probation when he robbed a pizza guy at gunpoint. This is the same young boy who gained national attention when he killed a 6 year old playmate in 1999, when he was just 12 years old. He was sentenced to life in prison for that crime, but his sentence was overturned and he regained partial freedom.
Whisper the name Lio.nel Tate and it’s almost like conjuring up a ghost. A certain mystique fills the atmosphere. I remember my friend Chilli and I were chillin out after dark and talking about how some friendships were toxic and she brought up an example of one of her toxic friends.
“You won’t believe what happened. So, this girl calls me and tells me she wants to hang out. Since I had been avoiding her for so long I decided to get it over with and go see her. When I get to her house she says we have to make a quick stop to pick up her friend before we go get some herb right. So I say okay and she tells me where to go. We both get out and walk up to this guy’s house and the guy opens the door. We walk in and I walk up to him and say, ‘Hi, I’m Chilli. What’s your name?’ Girl, the dude just looks at me and doesn’t say anything. I’m thinking to myself, ‘He is kinda rude.’ But I don’t say anything and we get in my car and go get some and when I’m about to drop him back off I hear her say, ‘I’ll see you later Lio.nel.’ Girl! The first thing that came to my mind when I heard that name was Lio.nel Tate. So I asked her was that him and she said Yes.”
“HELL NAW!” I whispered and looked over my shoulder in case somehow he was standing outside my window and could hear us. “Lio.nel Tate was in your car?!”
“YES! And she didn’t even TELL ME! She had me go and pick up a CONVICTED KILLER who is still on house arrest and ride around with him in my car and didn’t even tell me!”
I almost faint.
Lio.nel Tate.
~shivers~
“Girl, let’s not say that name again okay? I don’t know why. But I get scared and I live alone.”
“Yeah. I understand.”
Man… When I think of him I think of my two sons and how the choices they make will affect them for the rest of their lives. I do not think this young boy meant to kill that little girl. I think he was acting out his aggression a little too roughly and was unaware of the repercussions of his actions. Once he got caught up in the system and was labeled a killer, it all went downhill from there.
Once you give a child a label, they cling to it. From a young age we are all trying to understand who we are and why we are placed in this world. Remember the movie Unbreakable? That was the point of the movie. Mr. Glass could not understand why he was born with such an affirmity so he set out to experiment (by killing people) so that he could make sense of his tragic life.
We put this boy behind bars. We labeled him and told him he was worthless. We told him that his irresponsible actions were enough to ruin his life forever. We made sure he knew that he could never be forgiven or receive a second chance in life. His name will always be synonymous with murder.
In essence, his life was over years ago. He has just been idly riding the wave of life, waiting for an end to his misery.
Although he may never walk the streets again, I pray that God grants him freedom in his mind. I hope that God speaks to him and cleanses his soul. I hope he receives all the love he needs from our Father.
I weep for you Lio.nel.
Pinky Swear
I went out with a white man yesterday. He asked to meet me for coffee so we met up at the new Starbucks in Miami Shores. I ordered an orange juice because I don’t drink coffee. ~shrugs~
I met this guy about 3 weeks ago when I was at the bookstore doing a little research. Just in case you didn’t know, the book store is the new club. Every single time I go, at least 3 men ask me for my number. I’m not exaggerating. EVERY TIME. Damn! This used to be my place of peace and relaxation! Now I am constantly interrupted by ol raggedy ass men trying to hit on me. This annoys me so much!
So there I was at Barnes & Nobles laying on the floor like I usually do. I’m wearing one of my favorites tops, a black and white one, with some jeans and low pumps. I have the latest edition of the Writers Market open and I’m on my stomache peering down at the pages through my plastic black glasses, trying to make some sense out of all of the information.
I hear footsteps so I look up and a white man is smiling at me and walking down the aisle. I smile at him and continue reading. He walks over to me and starts the usual, ‘What are you reading?’ ‘What do you do?’ Blah blah…
I entertain him because I don’t think that he’s trying to holla. After all, he’s a VERY middle aged white man and I’m a young hot mama. Before he leaves he tells me he is an economic writer and an investor. He gives me his business card and tells me to call him.
I stuff it into my bag and leave.
I think about calling him as the weekend unfolds. If he’s a writer he may have valuable information for me. But what if he’s trying to holla? Na, I don’t think he is.
So I give him a call and he emails me a sample of his writing. It’s impeccable. Crisp, intellectual and even humorous. I tell him about my latest project and ask him if he will edit it for me. He agrees and I email it to him. He reads it and gives me valuable feedback and I take his advice because it is sound. He asks me out a couple of times but I’m not really in the mood plus I’m all caught up with Dude and that good pipe he was laying.
But the white man won’t let up. He calls or emails nearly everyday. He’s very interesting to talk with at times and he promises to teach me about stock market investing which is what he does full time. I’m game to learn, as long as he’s not trying to rip.
So finally I agree to meet up with him and I arrive at Starbucks first. We sit and chat easily. He leans over and tells me, “Maybe I shouldn’t say this but…you ooze, OOZE, OOZE sensuality. I can feel it coming out of you.”
I raise my eyebrow.
“Well, I’m not trying.”
“You don’t have to.”
Then after asking the million dollar question that everyone asks, “Are those your real eyes?” ~roll eyes~ this man asks me a question I’ve never heard before, “Are those your natural lips?”
Huh?
He proceeds to tell me how he has not dated a white woman in over 20 years and he doesn’t find them attractive at all. I’m sitting there thinking, Ewwwwwwwww.
So I’m hungry and we go to a Latin cafe for some pan con bistec. While we are talking I guess he starts to feel bold and he makes a joke and casually rubs my back.
I freeze. Oh my gosh, he’s touching me.
Then he makes another joke and rubs my back again.
“Guess what I’m gonna do when we’re done eating?” I tell him and notice his salt & pepper hair sticking out of his shirt. “I’m going home and going right to sleep.”
He makes a face. “Don’t do that. Come on, it’s early. I really want to teach you some things about the stock market. Come hang with me.”
Ohhh…I see. He wants me to come to his house. “At your house right?” I ask him.
“Yeah. Look, I’m very respectful. I won’t hurt you. What turns me on about a woman is a woman that is turned on by me. If you’re not into me, we don’t have to do anything.”
Damn… I thought I made a friend. Dude just wants to rip.
I smile weakly and finish my sandwhich. He gets even more bold at this point. His left hand reaches toward my shoulders and he gives me a few squeezes. “Let me give you a neck massage in public,” he tells me.
“Please don’t. I don’t like to be touched,” I lie.
“You don’t?”
“No, I don’t,” I tell him and look him directly into his brown eyes. “In fact, I’m not interested in random sex with men. I already have a friend who takes care of that need and I don’t need another one. If that’s what you are looking for you have to look elsewhere because I’m not the one.”
He removes his hand slowly and smiles down at the counter.
“Well, let me pay and we’ll get out of here,” he says.
“True.”
We walk back to his car in silence. He doesn’t know it, but we’re about 30 feet away from my house. I give him a hug, hop into my car and pull out slowly so he won’t see which direction I’m going in. When I see his silver Mercedes roll down the road, I reverse and pull up to my front porch.
I shake my head and walk into my door frowning.
There’s no way I would ever let that man touch me. Just imagine his old self on top of me. Ughh! Just imagine his little pinky trying to twirk something. Yuck! It won’t work.
I am very much attracted to white men however I don’t think any of them could ever satisfy me with those pink q-tips they call penis’. Plus, I’m not sure if they have the kind of stroke a chick like me needs.
Hmm..Definately not Mandingo material. At least I can’t imagine so.
Later that night I sat down to my computer to write and I make a quick decision. I pulled up my yahoo email and wrote a concise note to him:
Hey, Thanks for lunch today. After some consideration I don’t think you are the type of person I need in my life right now. Please do not contact me again. Thanks.
My friend suggested I keep him around in case I get hungry again. Nah..I have plenty of bologna & cheese in the fridge. Besides, I can’t use a guy like that. I HATE that I’m this way cuz I know a guy will use me in a heartbeat but FUCK- I just can’t do it. If I’m not feeling him, I tell him not to call me anymore. Simple. To the point.
Damn. Seems like I have been cutting a lot of men from my life lately. It feels better to say No instead of trying to be so accomodating.
It’s not about their happiness anymore. It’s all about ME!
So screw you, Pinky boy! You think you were gonna get some of this butter pecan swirl- ha! You better go stand outside the damn hair stoe and pick up some other Black chick!
This Weekend
The weekend passed by for me in a fog.
I guess I remember waking up early Saturday morning and saying goodbye to Dude. Yeah, I know. I’m supposed to leave him alone but..err…it’s not happening. So I decided to just let things be and continue to see other people while still enjoying his company. It is what it is, man. ~shrugs~ He brings a smile to my face, why stop it when I really need it right now? We vibe lovely like that.
My boys and I got dressed and went over to Carol Mart (the same Carol Mart featured in the Rick Ross Hustlin video) to get us all haircuts. All three of us took turns in Jonathan’s chair and after watching A Thin Line Between Love & Hate at the shop, $30 later we all walked out looking fresh to death.
We rushed home for a quick snack before heading over to Dianna’s house in North Miami for a kindergarten graduation party that was off the chain. Dianna’s friend, who happens to be an old classmate of mine from highschool, spared no expense at her kids party and I was worn OUT from all the fun I had riding the train through the neighborhood, eating cotton candy and snow cones, bouncing in the bounce house. You know I had to take my turn to bounce! I lasted about 15 seconds before I was about to pass out but it was fun!
We got home close to 9pm, my boys went straight to bed and I watched Casino with Dude. Well, he fell asleep and I watched it by myself. ~grrrr~ But that movie was crazy! All the dude wanted was a ride or die chick. He wanted someone by his side in life and that chick was stuck on her ex pimp. Damn…now I see why some men are wary of trusting women.
Back to another week of begging editors to give me a shot.Being a creative person has its disadvantages, I tell ya.
I’m still kinda frazzled by my uncle’s death. I have to write his obituary since that’s what I do. I’ll get to work on it tonight, his funeral is this Saturday.
I really don’t know what to do about my life right now. All of these failures can only lead to my eventual success so I’ll just remember Tupac’s advice:
Some say tha Blacker tha berry
Tha sweeter tha juice
I say, tha darker tha flesh and tha deeper tha roots
I give a hollar to my sisters on welfare
Tupac cares, but don’t nobody else care
I know they like ta beat ya down a lot
And when ya come around tha block brothers clown a lot
But please don’t cry, dry ya eyes
Never let up
Forgive but don’t forget girl keep ya head up
And when he tells you you ain’t nothin
Don’t believe him
And if he can’t learn ta love ya, you should leave him
Cuz sister you don’t need him
I ain’t tryin ta gash up, but I just callem how I see ’em
Ya know what makes me unhappy
When brothers make babies
And leave a young mother ta be a pappy
And since we all came from a woman
Got our name from a woman
And out game from a woman
I wonder why we take from our women
Why we rape our women
Do we hate our women ?
I think it’s time ta kill for our women
Time ta heal our women
Be real to our women
And if we don’t
We’ll have a race of babies
That hate tha ladies that make tha babies
And since a man can’t make one
He has no right ta tell a woman when and where ta create one
So will tha real men get upI know your fed up ladies
But keep ya head up
Chorus
Eeewww child things are gonna get easier
Eeewww child things are gonna get brighter
Eeewww child things are gonna get easier
Eeewww child things are gonna get brighter
I remember Marvin Gay, usta sing ta me
He had me feelin like black was tha thing ta be
And suddenly tha ghetto didn’t seem so tuff
I thought we had it rough, we always had enough
I often huffed and puffed about my curfew and broke tha rules
Ran with tha local crew and had a smoke or two
And realize momma really paid tha price
She nearly gave her life, ta raise me right
And all I had ta give her was my pipe dreams
Of how i’d rock tha mic and make it to tha big screen
I’m tryin ta make a dollar out of fifteen cents
It’s hard ta be legit and still pay tha rent
And in tha end it seems i’m headin for tha penn
I try and find my friends, but they’re blowin in tha wind
Last night my buddy lost his whole family
It’s gonna take tha man in me
Ta conquer this insanity
It seems tha rain will never let up
I try ta Keep My Head Up and still keep from getting wet up
You know it’s funny when it rains it pours
They got money for wars, but can’t feed tha poor
Sad there ain’t no hope for tha youth and tha truth is
There ain’t no hope for tha future
And then they wonder why we crazy
I blame my mother, for turning my brother into a crack baby
We ain’t meant ta survive, cause it’s a setup
And even though ya fed up
Ya got ta Keep Ya Head Up
Decisions
I’m 20 something.
I’m done with college. I know where I want to go in my career.I feel like I’m grown but I realize that I haven’t been making wise decisions lately. Somehow I’ve gotten off track when I know I should have moved on from certain things. I’m too old to be making the same mistakes and expecting a different result.
I know what I should be doing, I’m scared though. I’m afraid I can’t break these bad habits that have taken years to take root.
The pleasure of sin lasts for maybe an hour or so. The condemnation last so much longer because my hear won’t allow me to stay in sin for long.
The question is: Am I willing to give up what feels good RIGHT NOW, to make room for something better in the long run? It’s difficult to do, when you’re not sure something better will eventually come along.
That’s where faith comes into place.
I know I have a lot of misguided attitudes about things based on my past experiences with people- it’s my burden to bear. But since I know right from wrong, I have to stand up for what is right, believe that doing the right thing will bring peace and happiness to my life, and stop compromising what I know in my heart I deserve.
I’ll get back to ya…
I’m Such an Ass
I rode down NE 2nd avenue all the way to the Design District yesterday for a job interview. ~sigh~
LOL!
I’ve been on a million of em.
The interview started out the same way most of my interviews start.
Interviewer: ~taking a look at my resume~ Well, you’re definately overqualified for this job. Why would you even consider working here? Don’t you want to be at a newspaper or a magazine?
I usually sigh and smile. What can I say to that?
Hell yeah I would rather be at a newspaper or a magazine but dammit they ain’t hiring ME right now so I gotta do what I gotta do!
In this case, I’m interviewing for a receptionist/office assistant position at a small criminal law firm with a well known attorney in Miami.
The position seems harmless and easy to do. I look the interviewing attorney in the eye and say calmly, “I’m sure this is the most innappropriate thing to say during an interview but it’s the truth. I have no intention of joing a company and growing with them. I don’t want to move up. I don’t want to be a supervisor or a manager. I really just want a job that is easy, doesn’t demand too much and will be flexible while I pursue my writing goals.”
He sits back in his black leather chair and looks at me. He clasps his hands together and I smile.
“Well,” he says. “This may be the perfect job for you then…At times we aren’t really very busy and I don’t mind if you worked on your writing at work if you have the time. Hey, let me talk to my partner and we’ll get back with you.”
I haven’t heard back from them, but hey… Roll on…Roll on…
I just finished playing Hide-N-Go-Seek with my sons. ~smile~ This time I hid in the bathtub and it took them more than 10 minutes to find me.
I heard my 5 year old say to his younger brother, “Shhh..Listen to the sounds. Mama has to move sometime. We can hear her move if you listen.”
They finally saw my silouhette through the bathroom shower curtain. Why did I buy a clear shower curtain, anyway?
A couple of days ago I got a call from my boy Ryan. He said, “Man, your blog is such an emotional rollercoaster. One minute everything is great and the next your whole world is f****ed up!”
I almosty DIED!!!! It was one of those laughs when you have to put the phone down cuz your entire body is convulsing with the strength of the joy of laughter.
“Actually,” I told him. “At one point I considered calling my blog Emotional Rollercoaster. But I let go of the idea.”
I’m “talking” to someone else, besides Dude. I made sure to give someone else a chance in hopes that I would leave Dude alone. Actually I’m talking to two different men and neither of them excite me. This whole “game” thing has proved to be so wild to me.
Get this…I treat these men the OPPOSITE of how I treat Dude. I don’t return their calls. I don’t allow them to come to my house. I meet up with them briefly and always make sure I have to leave early.
I try not to give off any sexual energy in their presence or in phone conversations. I don’t make myself available to them cuz I’m not really interested like that. They obviously love it. They won’t stop calling and telling me their life stories. ~shakes head~
Men…
Man…Lord, please help me to leave Dude alone. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I can’t grasp the concept of putting him into a booty call category but I’m sure that’s where he wants to be. But booty calls don’t spend the night. At least mine don’t. Booty calls don’t hang out. Booty calls don’t meet your children.
~gasp~
Yes, he has met my sons. ~faints~ How could he not when he sleeps over? I had to teach them to knock before coming into my room in the morning after a nice suprise one rainy morning when my son walked in looking confused.
This is horrible. All I said I wanted was someone to give me secks on a regular basis and now I have that, but I want more. I want to meet someone who will VALUE me and what I have to offer and I want him to have a very big penis and a stable job and be generous and decent looking and inspirational like me.
I’m compromising by dealing with him and I know it.
I think I’m just so used to this type of treatment that it seems fair and just. I don’t know what it’s like to have someone truly care about me. I don’t know how to have blind faith in something that doesn’t seem real.
WAKE UP MS. TEE!
You are too beautiful to be tucked away in a corner and used like a sex toy. Hmm..That sounds kinda fun… But you know where I’m going.
You are not a warm, wet hole. You are a woman. You have so much to offer the right person. Why don’t you wait? It will come.
You keep doing the same shit over and over. You keep attracting the same type of me.
Why?
Why?
Grow the hell up girl!
New Miami Bloggers & Soul Searching
It’s almost the weekend baby!
If you’re not from Miami, you’ve probably fantasized about coming down here for one of our gazillion star studded events. This weekend is probably one of the biggest, that being Memorial Day Weekend on Miami Beach. Thousands of beautiful Black people, looking their best all hoping for a quick roll in the hay or a meet up with a celebrity.
I went down there last year, had an okay time with my friends but I think I’m too grown for the street walking crowd this year.
If you do plan on venturing down to the REAL SOUTH, you may want to bring an umbrella. This weekend is supposed to be the wettest weekend we’ve seen in a while.
Recently, I was featured on The New Miamian as a Miami blogger. I was happy to find other blogs by Miamians because I don’t know of any other Miami bloggers. It turns out that there are plenty of them, except they are all written by white people.
Isn’t it strange that as much as we profess to be an upwardly mobile society, even our blog communities are segregated by race? Think about the people whose blogs you frequent. How many of them are white? Even the white ladies like Juli, who we love so much, feel connected to the Black community in one way or another. In fact, besides one blogger I can think of, all of the white women in our community have half black children.
A part of me wants to say that this divide exists because we share different life experiences and can not relate to each other. But this presumption was dismissed when I watched the ever popular Sex & the City for the first time last week.
I was sitting there BLOWED as the group of friends had the type of discussion that my friends and I would have. It was the episode where one of those chicks (I think the promiscuous one) decided to wait 2 weeks before having secks with a man she had met. When she finally did it with him, and her friends questioned her about it, she cried and cried in a bathroom stall because she found out that her new guy had the worst curse of all men; he had a small penis.
I could totally feel her pain. I was so sad for her. That’s the worst.
I would have been crying about the same damn thing.
Blacks and whites are experiencing the same damn things, yet we look at each other as if we are from two different planets. We’re quick to judge and sterotype. I know that some white people are afraid of us just because of the color of our skin. I don’t think it’s their fault either. I believe racism is a learned characteristic. It’s a trait developed through years of low self esteem and the desire to feel better about yourself by classifying someone else as lower than you are.
Through getting acquainted with a few of the Miami bloggers, who usually blog about events and news in this area, I came across this blog that comically addressed the need to evacuate South Beach this weekend due to the impending crowd of Blacks that will flock to the area.
I couldn’t even be offended. After certain Gator games when I was in college, I knew to stay off the streets to avoid the drunken celebrations of my peers. And yes, often I classified it as “them crazy white people” but honestly I never minded the screaming and horn honking and general debauchery because..white people sure know how to have fun! They just party differently than we do.
Remember my past attitude concerning white people. I won a major award when I wrote a piece called, I was a Racist. These days I don’t have time to be concerned with how another race views me. I have so many other issues on my plate to deal with that extra stress. I still haven’t made any ‘let’s hang together all the time and share each other’s world’ type of white friends. But I have become friendly with a couple of caucasians who are vastly different from me, yet we still have enough of a common ground to enjoy a conversation.
I try not to judge people based on their attitudes because I’ve watched myself flip, turn, burn and come full circle concerning things I once thought I’d NEVER change my mind about.
We’re all learning, growing and fucking up. And we’re afraid to admit it most of the time. We retreat socially because we are afraid of being misunderstood.
I guess I’m hoping for a perfect world. A world where I would not be so confused all the time. A world where love was abundant and life was magnificent everyday.
I guess that won’t happen until Jesus comes back. But with the way I’m going, constantly searching for the truth for myself, by so many other’s standards, I probably won’t even make it to enjoy it.
Sometimes I feel like I’m turning into one of those ‘God knows my heart’ Christians. But the alternative would be, ‘I follow all the rules and so should you’ type of Christian.
Blah…I’m probably confused once again. As usual.
At least I’m trying…trying to get it right.
Another Day, Too Much Time
It’s Memorial Day. The weather is perfect, the breeze is nice. I didn’t do much of anything this weekend. My Mama hooked me up and I was able to rent some movies from Blockbuster to help me get through the weekend since my cable was turned off.
My kids left to be with their Dad for the weekend and as soon as they left I developed a cold which quickly turned into the flu. I’m having trouble breathing, my body aches, my mouth tastes nasty and to put icing on the cake- my cycle came on, which has left me an emotional wreck.
All of the lights were green on the way to my uncle’s funeral. I was one of the first to arrive. When my Mama got there she gave me the funeral programme that we made and I sat by the door handing them out to everyone who came. I even read the eulogy, but we called it a Life Portrait.
After the funeral, after the hugs, after the tears and awkward conversation I drove back up to my neighborhood and my booty was caressed by it’s favorite lover, my couch. I drank some theraflu and poured a glass of orange juice as I watched the movie Crash again. Now you know I think this movie has a ton of points for discussion and the first time I watched it I mentioned a few of my favorites and I’d like to remind you of one other.
Remember the asshole cop who pulled the couple over and molested the woman in front of her husband? I don’t think this was about race. I believe this was about excercising control, the control he did not have in his own home. He had to watch as his father suffered physically. He probably felt helpless in that situation. His work, his badge, his authority became the only outlet to exert control.
The anger he felt inside had to be released somehow. Often the pain is projected toward people who don’t deserve it.
I’ve seen it happen in black families time and time again. The black man is out in the workforce grinding and taking shit from whoever. His anger builds. His heart hardens. He feels helpless because he has to work under harsh conditions which are debilitating to his spirit. He goes home and releases his frustration through harsh criticism on the kids and his wife/girlfriend. He has to throw his weight around. He feels his lashing out allows him to regain a bit of his manhood.
The black woman. The black child. The black family bears the brunt of this cycle. As women, we have to look this man in the eyes and try to understand the root of the rage. We try to brush off the attacks and make life as less complicated as possible for him but it is still not enough. For every blow to his manhood he takes from society, we women feel the pain.
For many who have been reading my words for a while, you know that I have been through an abusive cycle with men in my life. They all have the same controlling, destructive spirit and I cling to them for dear life, hoping for approval and acceptance. I guess I hoped that if I was nice enough or loved them enough or was good enough in bed, they’d learn to appreciate me and value my presence in their lives.
I attract the same type of men. Well, let’s say I choose the same type of men- over and over again. Men who do not know how to love themselves. Men who have no relationships with their fathers. Men who label a woman who gives so much of herself as “easy” and “stupid” and takes my devotion and kindness as a sign of weakness. Their inability to accept my love is an indication of their weakness too. Sometimes I think that they hate me because I show them love and because they don’t believe they deserve love. They want me to be distant, uncaring and stoic. My act of kindness is seen as being fake or a tactic to try to get something from them.
It’s not. It’s genuine. But you could never get them to believe that.
Wow. It’s almost June. It’s been 4 months since I’ve seen or spoken to my children’s father. I am amazed and grateful everyday that he is not a part of my life anymore. YOU HAVE NO IDEA. I never thought his abusive words would end. I never thought I’d get him to stop. I had gotten used to hearing how worthless I was and on quiet nights the phrase still repeats itself muffled by the affirmations I feed myself daily.
So many times I rationalized that I deserved his disparaging treatment because I had not gotten my life together yet and he was a successful attorney with investment properties and a long term relationship that looked solid as a rock.
My friends all agree that this has been life changing for me. Still…still…sometimes I still hear his criticizing words. He has many friends and everyone loves him. He gets tremendous praise from everyone who meets him because he treats them so well..and me…well…I guess…I guess I was the white sheep in the group. He absolutely hates me and would prove it everyday if I hadn’t gotten the ‘no contact’ order. God bless the judge.
Damn. I hate to regress but it’s my damn life so fuck it. I’ma be me.
It’s funny that victims of abuse are often considered weak and stupid. How is that?
We love despite the bruises. We take on the pain of others in hopes of helping them heal. We take blow after blow and still stand, believing the best for you and praying for a change.
Blah..blah..blah…
I can continue to risk being hurt to one day gain love…or I can turn back into the man hating bitch who uses men for (safe) sex ultimately abusing them the way I had been abused.
Decisions, decisions…I’m so damn dramatic. ~smile~
But what is life without a little drama?
