Black… and Yellow

Some mediocre singer made a song calling herself (and referencing men who want) a “yellowbone” or light skin Black woman with yellow undertones… similar to the term “redbone” which refers to lighter skin Black women with red undertones (perhaps from mixed heritage with Native Americans). Folks are like “OUTRAGE” it’s colorism.

The system of privilege that is begat from favoring people of lighter skin color over those of blacker skin color… that is colorism. Talking, singing, writing about complexion is not colorism, Being light skinned should not be a source of shame because it comes with privilege… mainly privilege we didn’t request and don’t want. I can assure you as a “redbone”, I don’t want any parts of colorism. Matter of fact don’t call me a redbone. My preference.

Ya’ll… we cannot be this silly. Let this girl make a song and get her coin. She’s light skinned, she thinks she’s the bees knees, let her. Men have been referencing redbones in their songs for decades, and nobody writes whole articles about some random song. But again, the problem here is that (1) women are held to a different standard than men and expected to stifle ourselves to promote and suport the masses when the masses don’t support us and (2) Black folks think we can ALL only be about some universally Black ideal and anything else is a problem.

Women can’t tall about our bodies, our hair, our wants, our dreams, the kind if men we want, nothing without some backlash on how what we said makes us look. I’m a hoe if I’m comfortable with my sexuality. Im a golddigger if I like men with their finances in order. I’m a golddigging hoe if I only date men who have stock options. But he can want a hoe, talk about his money, swipe his credit card down some chick’s ass and it’s all good. Hell Lil Wayne had a song Redbone Girl and Childish Gambino’s hit … like BIG HIT… was just entitled Redbone. But Danileigh (I know nothing about her so I had to look up her name) says “Yellowbone” and she’s a full on racist. Stop it. Stay woke.

Black people run the gamut from the palest to the darkest with everything in between. She simply said “Yellowbone that’s what he wants
Prada, me in Saint Laurent”… not Pulitzer Prize winning lyrics… but not worthy of outrage. It’s fake outrage. Be clear, it’s a horrible song and I’m sonically outraged, my ears are upset… but that’s it. She didn’t put anyone down. I think team light-skinned is dumb… but SO IS team dark-skinned… because we are one team. The facts are some men/women prefer light skin, some men/women prefer dark skin. It’s all good, like hair, it’s skin… it covers your body, it’s great. Whatever color it is. Bug let the girl sing her little song.

“French Vanilla, Butter Pecan, Chocolate Deluxe…

… even Caramel Sundae” (Ice Cream, Wu Tang)

It makes ZERO sense that a light skinned woman cannot attest to her virtues the same way a brown skinned woman is celebrated for attesting to hers… despite the past or the present. A brown sister posts that she’s a beautiful chocolate melanated Queen and “Yaaaassssssssssss” fill the comments. We should all get that same love if we celebrate ourselves. Black women are the least celebrated people walking the planet… all of us should come together to big up each other, skin color be damned. If she thinks she’s “sweeter and thicker than a Chico stick” (Sometimes I Rhyme Slow, Nice & Smooth) then that’s her prerogative the same as “drip broke the levees when my Kellys roll in” (Brown Skin Girl, Beyoncé). As long as she’s not proclaiming that she is the only image of beauty in the diaspora of Black skin… it’s all good. Relax.

Again, we have to stop being so judgmental of whatever sits outside of the box that Black Twitter has created. We are not meant to fit in… boxes or stereotypes. It is a stereotype that all light skin Black women are conceited, narcissistic, and vain. It is a vestige of racism that dark skin is inherently bad and therefore lighter skin automatically means a person is smarter, kinder, more beautiful, more desirable, more refined, worth more. That’s a lie that has been told to us… because in general we are darker than those who built the White power structure. It isn’t light skinned Black people racism was meant to exalt… be very clear! These ideas are not our own, they were given to us. It’s time to give them back. We can’t get over this hump because it has been so deeply ingrained that the lie keeps getting passed down in our DNA. I personally have benefitted from that dumb ass line of thinking and never ever wanted it.

There is a reason why a lot of militant ass folks… Huey P Newton, Malcolm X, Angela Davis, Kathleen Cleaver were light skin Black people… on the receiving end of racism but somehow labeled the perpetrators of colorism. Nope… I will not be the bearer of your hate because the darkness if my skin was tainted by your rapist kinfolk. FOH! While it’s hurtful to be on the receiving end of racism and colorism surely, it is MADDENING to be both hated and seen as the puppet of your hater. I don’t subscribe to any tenets or byproducts if racism. I see beauty in all that Black people are… and I don’t have to damn any part of it as pennance for my privilege. I’m militant AF. Black mixed with Black. Be completely clear. I’m also smart, cute, and the whole bag. My skin color is apart of me just like my eye and hair color. All together that shit is popping. I hope you feel the same about yourself!

Frankly, Im tired if discourse on this subject, but it’s still a very real source of trauma for Black people. As such, I’ll do my minuscule part in helping solve the problem. But we gotta start with giving each other a bit more grace. If we are going to chastise this girl, let’s berate her on the quality of this song… cuz it swings real low on that scale. But if Childish Gambino can sing to his “peanut butter chocolate cake with Kool-Aid” (Redbone)… then she can sing about being yellow. Revamp those he-man woman haters club bylaws and take the fake outrage out. These ultra raggedy dudes still out here calling beautiful brown skinned women “blackie”… be outraged about that shit please!

“Let the Willie Lynch theory reverse a million times with Complexion/Complexion don’t mean a thing…”Complexion, Kendrick Lamar

The Double Standards of WAP

I’m just gonna jump right in…

So I just watched the video for the remix of Throat Baby… featuring DaBaby and City Girls by BRS Kash. I feel like I need to pray the rosary and do five Hail Marys. Shit was gross. If you are on social media you have likely been exposed to this trash. So women can’t talk about their OWN bodies, yet it’s okay for men to talk about depositing their spermatazoa into a woman’s THROAT… excuse my language, but… NIGGA please!

I watched these little men dive into and go skiing down a white snow bluff into a scene that mimicked the inside of a woman’s mouth and esophagus, and then do an ultrasound of a woman’s throat with a baby growing inside. Now understand, what grown consenting adults do is their business, but a song that equates a woman’s mouth with a receptacle for these raggedy negroes DNA is foul AF! Even more so are the visuals. WAP didn’t disgust me, this shit did. But yet, I hear crickets. I bet ya’ll dudes like this trash. Sing along in the car and shit.

Cardi B and Meg the Stallion talk about what they do with their OWN body parts and suddenly women don’t want to be respected, they deserve to be mistreated, and if they dare speak on their own sexuality they are hoes. Then they dared to dance half-dressed like all strippers and “models” dudes follow on instagram wear… out loud, in public… but away from the private gaze. Hoes times infinity. Did I sum that up correctly for the ultra raggedy fellas… and dried up prudish broads?!?

Despite how much men are trying to get them some WAP… I mean let’s just keep it all the way 100, everything ya’ll have aspired to since about age 14 has been in pursuit of the wappiest WAP you could find…the hate was palpable. Be clear, we know you love vagina. Be clearer, a lot of you despise the human vessels that they belong to. We are painfully aware.

Despite how much prudes hem and haw about the virtues of being a lady, they secretly wish to be so free but are fearful of what someone else will think of them. They hide their freak in the dark and bring her out on birthdays and Valentine’s Day. We know why you act like you do.

HYPOCRITES!!!!

No one is talking about how fucking disrespectful this is, how gross, how foul, how vomit inducing it is for this person to dare think anyone would want any parts of him near their mouth. If they do it is ONLY because he made a song and they got dreams to buy expensive things like Jazmine. I’m all for creative expression, so I personally could care less. He can rap about whatever he wants, because I support women expressing themselves, even in ways I don’t personally agree with. “Lady in the streets, freak in the sheets” is not up to you, it’s up to her. This isn’t about your personal preference, but your what’s good for the goose is too foul for the gander mentality. Who you doing that foul shit with sir?!? Whose throat you having a baby in?!? You get what you put out. You slut shame and try to police women’s expression of their sexuality, you get this kind of wretched ass pharnyx…

… and the men who love and respect sexy & confident women get this kinda quality WAP!

You peasants disgust me! The least you could do is not be so obvious with your double standards.

Comma La

So I know today I will hear every rendition of Vice President Kamala Harris’s first name as there are versions of Yesterday by the Beatles…

Ka-Mah-la; Cam-ah-la; Kamal-ah…its Comma-La! Get it right!

But no matter what you call her… she’s a boss, a leader, a G, and higher up the political food chain than every single white supremacist on the PLANET. 🤷🏽‍♀️ And today she is every Black woman’s assurance that we are dope, capable, and necessary! I am my sister’s keeper… and I am my sister.

Black Women DO

We have been trying to tell you. We have been organizing lives since we stepped stolen foot onto American soil. We were 80% of the female population of America. We brought our knowledge of medicine, herbs, cuisine, midwifery, child-rearing, and the feminine gender to a relatively male populated land. We birthed the first generation of America. Our role as child-rearer, cook, cleaner, and house maid in White households meant many American sensibilities about women were taught by us and then simultaneously denied to us… denied as part of our nature and to us in practice. And this has continued into present day.

Black Women CAN

Yet despite what racist American policies were at play, either during slavery, Jim Crow, or now in the age of technology… we persisted. Harriet Tubman was a revolutionary and abolitionist. Shirley Chisholm ran for President. Mae Jemison went into space. Nina Simone sang freedom songs. Toni Morrison wrote novels that taught us who we were. Oprah became a billionaire. Kamala will be the Vice President. And despite what was thrown at us… the mass incarceration of our men, lack of opportunity, low wages, we organized and we found a way. We braided hair, did nails, sewed, made fish dinners, baked cakes, babysat, did taxes, learned real estate, made wigs, hustled and came into our own using what we knew and the resources available to us. Single mothers put themselves and kids through school. Grandmothers raised children while parents worked multiple jobs to feed them. We are the real American Dream.

Black Women LEAD

We lead our children to college and beyond. We lead the companies we worked for in entry level jobs into multi billion dollar wins for their White owners. We lead ourselves into prosperous entrepreneurship through our support of each other even when we were shut out of small business grants and loans. We lead in the increase in Bachelors, Masters , and Doctorate degrees in the last 20 years. We lead by babysitting for each other so we can take that late night class. We lead by sacrificing for our children and grandchildren. We lead by being of service to everyone, all the time. We lead because we are bosses.

Black Women ARE

So today when Kamala (Comma-La) becomes the first Black Vice President and the first woman Vice President in the history of this nation… Black women everywhere will feel a sense of vindication for each and every moment we were assumed to be incapable. Assumed because that is what the privileged and biased have convinced themselves to explain their biased policies. All along, I believe those same folks knew we were more capable than even we knew. They are still chasing the legacies of their ancestors. My sistas… we are the manifestation of the hopes and dreams of our ancestral Kunte, Kizzy, Binta, Chicken George, Fiddler, and Omoro. We are rooted in greatness, and our names are extensions if the greatness our parents saw in our eyes minutes after we entered the world. The greatness of Barack. The star power of Beyoncé. The legend of Thurgood. The genius of Oprah. The history of Kamala.

Oh, and like they could pronounce Kunte’s name but called him Toby in order to break him from his lineage of greatness, they can pronounce Kamala too… they just disrespectful AF. But I bet they can say Madame Vice President…

Kamala Harris by Tracie Ching

Not Your Sally Hemmings

So one of the Proud Boys that broke into, raided, looted, and staged a coup attempt at the U.S. Capitol, after and because of a historic election and historic day for Black people, politics, and leadership in this country, has a Black wife and a biracial baby… so TF what?

Slave masters raped their female slaves and made biracial babies all the time. Hell, one of your President’s had a whole family with a slave woman. But she still had to fetch him a glass of water and empty his chamber pot. He loved to bed her but still clearly believed her so inferior he would continue to own her, work her for free, and take her body. He fell in love with the cocoa but not the woman. Cuz Thomas, like Proud Boy Billy or whatever his name is, had a fetish for Black women. That has nothing to do with love.

Black women have been in the receiving end of racial fetishization since colonial times, and now it has expanded. Historically, Saartje Barttman was used in freak shows to titillate audiences because of her curvaceous body, just furthering the stereotype of the Black woman as animalistic and sexually motivated. Innocent Black slave girls were described as so sexual that their rapist masters feigned lack of control in falling for their sexual prowess. Black women are often the source of the White male gaze but not his respect.

Today, plus size Black women are sought after because of fetishes of being with thicker women (freakier, more sexually free, more willing to please stereotypes… all bullshit) who are at the same time degraded and fat shamed publicly, in some attempt to hide and shame like you ain’t ready for all the jelly. FOH. We are desired by some men the darker we are (typically White men) and others because of how light we are (typically minority men). Different sexual personalities are attributed to dark skin and light skin women that often have no place in reality. The size and shape of our asses are the fetish of women and men, from non-Black women obsessed with squats and ass shots to famous women using surgery to alter their bodies to be known for the size of their butt. Many Black women take advantage of these fetishes… especially financially… displaying themselves on social media to draw fans and make money, adding to and profiting iff of the stereotype. But I’m not really mad at grown women getting their coins. But the fetishization of Black women has morphed over time from something practiced by the White male power circle to the mainstream.

So who knows what Billy’s thing is… who cares. The bottom line is, if sis wasn’t aware of who she was with before, she is now. If she knew and was ok with it, it wouldn’t be my thing, but I don’t know her life. If she just found out, I hope she makes good decisions moving forward… because he was a bad one. He is the poster boy for hatred and racism, wrapped in a cloak of acceptance and diversity. Welp… bruh is now exposed as the treasonist racist that he is. And she is either his beard of non-bias or some sick twisted Black hate fetish. Either one is fucked up. But you cannot love what you hate, that we know.

Let’s be very aware of the negativity out in the world that can sabotage our success. A woman looking for love should not ever settle for being some man’s fetish… his redhead fetish, his fat girl fetish, his girls with six toes fetish, none of that shit. Is he into you or what you are… that’s a very nuanced thing but a very real thing nonetheless. Be as discriminating about who you give yourself to as the selfies you post. Make sure he’s good to you and for you. Black women are not our weight, skin color, hair texture, headwraps, ass, waist to hips ratio, or the scent of peaches or African oils that wafts behind us as we walk. We are whole entire women whose brain, emotions, and spirit matter just as much as our fineness… cuz we fine AF, be very clear!

These fools ain’t Thomas Jefferson and you MOST CERTAINLY in 2021 are not his Sally Hemings.

A Jelly Doughnut

What the fuck was that?????

You might as well call it a jelly doughnut , cuz that mess that we watched on tv was WILD af. It was full fledged Neantherthal Park and the natives got outta their cages and acted a whole dam fool in the chambers and offices of the United States Capitol building. They swarmed that joker like Killer Bees, but with Davy Crockett hats, bull horns, Confederate Flags, and MAGA hats.

“I came to bring the pain…” (Bring the Pain, Method Man)

I mean these fools chased a guard, howled like upright man without language skills, scaled walls both inside and outside like primates, commandeered the Senate’s leaderships seats in chambers, and kicked their feet up on somebody’s desk and turned on the TV. Somebody tried to steal a podium.

“So come on steal away…” (Steal Away, Etta James)

It was rioting and looting on the biggest platform… instead of carrying out TVs these jokers wanted to club democracy over the head and fireman’s carry it out of the legislature like it’s hillbilly bride to be. Except these aren’t hillbilly’s, by day they wear suits or uniforms or take your order. But somewhere in their history they owned or controlled folks who look like you and now we been in the White House and in a few days we’ll be taking over the very Senate chamber they desacrated , so they mad mad. But what was this really about?

“We’re walkin’ real proud and we’re talkin’ real loud” (In America, Charlie Daniels Band)

Privilege

It was about knowing that even if you BREAK INTO the U. S. Capitol, threaten police, scare federal workers, interrupt the Senate Electoral College Vote Confirmation, and have to be forced to exit the premises, your White skin will save you from harm. No matter the harm you cause. So much so you can chase a whole Black police officer through the building, be identified, and still go unpunished. I mean why not just kick your feet while you wait to be escorted out all alive and shit.

“Kick off your shoes and relax your feet…” (Just Kickin, XScape)

Racism

Sure the President incited a riot… but we all know he’s the spawn of all that is evil and unwell. These clowns we watched today, sit around waiting for a chance to act a complete ass in the name of white supremacy, white power, white control, and white nationalism. They want our Black asses in shackles or nooses, and despise nothing more than losing to a negra. And lose to the negroes, they did. Stacey Abrahms, LaTosha Brown, the late great John Lewis who backed Jon Ossoff, and Reverend Doctor Raphael Warnock beat.that.ass. in grand fashion. And they are big mad. Mad that Black women showed up and out to elect Biden and Harris. Made that Black folks flipped the Senate. And ready to jump in their El Caminos with their 2x4s and run up in the Capitol like Hacksaw Jim Duggan.

“Hooooooooooo!” (2×4: Hacksaw Jim Duggan Theme, Jim Johnston)

Violence

This is what supremacists, nationalists, and a bunch of angry & absurd white men do… murder, death, kill. They are angry because they didn’t get their way, absurd because they have the complete audacity to believe they are ALWAYS supposed to, and violent when they don’t! Their forefathers stole humans, and the great great great grandchildren of those humans now sit next to them in boardrooms, Senate and House chambers, and educate their children. They mad mad. So they wave their confederate pro-slavery flags and don their MAGA hats, break into shit, and cause a ruckus. They are the original No Limit soldiers, and today they came to Tear Da Club Up. And if people die, they die.

“I ain’t never scared…” (Never Scared, Bone Crusher)

Today was treasonous activity on full display! it was all that is wrong with America, and it’s not new or novel but neanderthalian and narcissistic. Meanwhile, Black people watched ya’ll commit crime after crime, riot, loot, incite violence, and scare people, knowing had it been us, come next Friday there would be slow singing on Zoom and virtual flower bringing. Yet, we just watched y’all, like a live version of some Liam Neeson movie, walk out alive and intact. We laughed at parts. We cried at parts. Then left out like, “That shit was wild!”

But that part when y’all climbed up the walls like monkeys. Don’t you ever fix yo mouth to call not one of us a gorilla ever again. Not never.

Yesterday all of their filth was put on display for everyone to see… the racist flags, violence, hatred, and their audacious privilege. They mobbed the Senate chambers to scare them into inaction. Yet they wore the flag on their faces and carried it over their shoulder, while they spat on the tenets of the Constitution. These clowns don’t support law or order… they follow the commands of a fascist. “Stop the Steal” was chanted. Isn’t that cute, from the sons of the biggest thieves in history. The blood of men who stole millions of people runs through the veins of everyone who broke into the U.S. Capitol. Their actions show they fear their privilege is dwindling, and the rest of us are tired of their raggedy asses.

“I’m barely hanging on” (Barely Hanging On, A-ha)

“It looks to me like the best part of you ran down the crack of your mama’s ass and ended up as a brown stain on…” America! (Full Metal Jacket, Stanley Kubrick).

Check Your Energy… all 2021

Yooooooooooooooooooo…. 2020 is over! It was a fucked up set of months. Everybody got sick in January, probably pre-pandemic COVID cuz hindsight is always… ok bad cliché . Anyway….My kid came home from school in February. I came home in March. My boonapolis (Greek for bestie) caught COVID and was sick for what seemed like an eternity to me in April, and lots of people tested my gangster by assuming they are far more important to the journey than the station they occupy along the route. You can’t sit with us… Sorry, I got sidetracked. Anyway, from May to September, the time I’d usually be running around the city like the streets is mine, I was at home, slightly depressed and deeply anxious. In October, COVID numbers flew up as folks started going back out into the world and kissing in the mouth. I spent my November birthday doing nothing, my Thanksgiving with just the family in my home, and December just prepping for more of the same! Who sanctioned this madness?

We wore masks all year. We couldn’t go to concerts or restaurants. I ordered more shit online than should be legal. I also helped fund someone at Door Dash’s kid through medical school. We wanted a cure or vaccine, now we have one that most of us won’t be able to get for months. We hoarded toilet paper and Lysol but most if us don’t have Reckitt Benckiser (look it up) in our investment portfolio or realize those stockpiles of AngelSoft and Quilted Northern had just made the Koch Brothers richer.

So now that we are past it, and have just 19 days before we usher in a new regime into America… a little reflection is necessary to assess where we are so we can figure out what we need to do. I know I need to do a lot of burpees cuz COVID calories are a real thing.

We’ve been living under a cloud of hate, anger, death, insecurity, fear, and frustration for not just the last year, but the last four. Its time… yep yep… time to make a change! We ALL need an energy shift. The thing about energy is that it is the building block of all things… life and living. Learning how it functions is the greatest life lesson there is. It’s the beat over which all dope tracks are laud. You just gotta learn how to finesse that shit…

Healing was the word for 2020. Energy is the word for 2021. To summon great vibes, you guessed it, you have to emit that same energy. It truly is that simple. For every action there is an opposite but equal reaction… you will learn that lesson over and over until you grasp it. What you see happen in your life is a direct reflection of what type of energy you have put out. It’s truly a game changer. Mirror what you want… equal but opposite… if you want to receive it in your left hand, give with your right. You no longer have to worry about who is doing what to you, what someone else thinks of you or has intended for you… just be a giver of the type of energy you wish to receive. Thass it. Thass all. Let’s process.

Insecurity ran rampant in 2020. Isolation, loneliness, uncertainty, lack of motivation, and lack of progress can do that to you. So many of us were overtly seeking validation outside of ourselves, and in the middle of a global pandemic and economic disaster, there were few people with enough mental energy to give that out beyond their immediate circle. So you could literally read the insecurity pouring out of people. And as much as others may have wanted to reassure and support, folks only have so much to give before their cup runneth empty. So now it’s time to make shift. We must all take some time to give to ourselves… take inventory of what you are doing and how awesome it is, spend time figuring out who you are and what you want, and self-validate. When you know how awesome you are, others will know it too, through osmosis… a transference of energy. You will attract all the bosses and the boos. Vibes.

Similarly, if you are holding on to fear and anger from past grudges, let that go. Trust the vibes. People who mean you harm will give off negative energy that leaves the room feeling moist, like it’s a breeding ground for nastiness. They will have an unfiltered and dusty ass air about them that makes you want to hold your nose and move quickly around them. While you are busy being your authentically kind and fabulous self, your energy will clash with theirs so you can see their smog take over the surroundings. Energy attracts like energy and repels unlike energy. What they think if you truly becomes none of your business… because your only true business is surrounding yourself with folks who return your dopeness and kindness with dopeness and kindness. Vibes.

And if you are unsure of your level of importance, the amount of relationship equity you have in a situation, trust that if you don’t already know, if the connect ain’t connected to you, you probably aren’t as high up the chain as you thought you were.

Check the vibes, and act accordingly.

Sending your coochie through the phone

Ok so I am not calling ANYONE a ho… period. Your coochie, ultimately you do what you want with it. However, if you really want some semblance of a relationship you cannot serve yourself up like a T-bone, and expect the recipient of the meal to keep the bone after he is done. that’s now trash… it’s meatless, it’s dry, it’s pointless. So let’s stop hoping someone will take a bite by broadcasting ourselves as not just available, but ready, wide open, and STILL available. Sis put your phone down, binge watch a show, make a smoothie, stretch, window shop online, plan your next house project, read a book, look up some stocks, apply a face sheet mask, something… but stop sending your coochie through the phone. That ain’t the way.

Single folks get a bad rap… why you single, how are you single, what’s wrong with you, blah blah blah. The older you get the more intrusive snd ridiculous the inquiries and assumptions get. The game people play pitting married women against single women… is even more problematic and ridiculous. Be clear, the entire point is to be happy and successful… and there are many married women who are miserable. They have been cheated on, cheaters, lied to, liars, stolen from, disrespected, and chosen many times to stay with that loser because they’d rather be unhappy than single. All of that is their business, until they claim their married status makes them better or somehow in a better state than you because you are single. Nope. So I get the whole dilemma. But I’m here to tell you it’s bullshit and your coochie deserves better treatment than to be laid bare and unprotected as a lure for a man. Your coochie is lure for a man in panties, stockings, pants, and a full length coat. It’s like a worm to a fish… you ain’t gotta do nothing but have one. Then don’t let it be attached to someone dope and smart and loving… girl bye… you the whole prize. But you diminish that prize when you send your coochie through the phone. Don’t do it.

Plus it’s a whole pandemic. I get it, it’s highly entertaining scrolling through inbox messages and having conversations with folks from all walks of life interested in your wares… but trust me, The Undoing is more entertaining. Put your phone down. I also know that it can be a lonely time for folks who live alone. But folks carrying COVID in their pockets, so the most you can do safely is talk or engage on social media… and once you have pulled him with ur coochie he really isnt interested in your life story. So just be sure of what you want, and act accordingly. Cuz what you lead with is what you plead with… you can’t go asking for quality time and words of affirmation when you were only seemingly seeking horizontal attention and hinting at mouth massages at the outset.

See no matter how much Shawnee Easton tried to get Q to take her bait, he wanted Monica. She didn’t have to do anything but comb her hair and put on a dress and baby was banging. He stared a hole through her. She didn’t have to twerk on him, promise to “leave him satisfied” or otherwise make it known she was ready for whatever. She was who she was and that was enough…. say what, oh you are just being who you are too? Girl bye. Behavior and personal traits are not one in the same. Being easy isn’t a personality trait it’s a bad behavior. Stop. When we can identify why we are acting a certain way, whether it be insecurity, constant disappointment, fear of lack of control, etc. then our outward actions as a result are behaviors not personal qualities we are born with or nurtured into. Nope again. I guarantee, if you work on bring authentically you, the right guy will notice and come scoop you like the French Vanilla, Butter Pecan, Chocolate Deluxe treat that you are. I mean old boy is staring at her like she’s a milkshake… and you know what they say about milkshakes and boys.

Point is… mo matter what lies someone tells you or what mistruths they hide behind, no one wants to be alone. No one. So we all understand the desire to share your status so folks know you out here. But desperation and reckless availability is not whats up. A man that findeth a woman (cuz he had got to find a woman well before he finds a wife or anything else) findeth a good thing if she is a good woman… but that entails being a secure, confident, self-respecting woman. Now again, you can give your coochie to the masses and send it to the universe via rocketship if you desire… more power to you. But if what you’re really trying to effectuate is a great relationship with a great guy, chances are he has seen all the coochie grams you been sending through the phone. Great guys accept coochie grams too… but the probably won’t buy that you all Proverbs 31 too. I mean… I’m just saying… Don’t shoot the messenger.

Call ,Text, Zoom, Group Me…Maybe

I am if “I don’t have to talk to you all the time, but when we do talk its like we pick right back up where we left off” was a person…

Yesterday confirmed that while that may be life, because we are all responsible for ourselves, children, spouses and mates, family, friends, organizations, work, self-care, etc., it is necessary to connect and keep in contact with people. Yesterday, I Facetimed with sistafriends off and on, all day, and I laughed, learned, taught, engaged, exhaled, and just had a good time. More than any of that though, the connection just strengthened our support of one another. A safe space to talk open and honest about whatever… work, family, ourselves, and the fuckery other folks display on a regular.

We talked about being genuine. The twisted and dark art of faking the funk. We talked about audacity and desperation. The chicken and the egg conundrum painted in shades of insecurity and egomania. We talked about racism, sexism, and intersectionality and how those play out in different professional spaces. It was a conversation Kimberli Crenshaw would be proud to know her work sparked, both acknowledging, teaching, and seeking solutions. We talked about success, Black success, and the importance of surrounding yourself with like-minded Black people. Being in spaces where you are free gives you a easier backdrop in which to learn and grow. We talked about the fact that you have to stay connected in some way with people in order to ensure you are riding for people who you still believe in, respect, enjoy, and belong with. People change, for better or for worse…. or show you who they really are eventually. You only get to see that if you maintain a connection

We left that conversation knowing a little bit more about each other…

******

Friendships are the cornerstone of human relationships. Ideally our romantic relationships start as friendships, we are born into friendship with our same age familial relatives, and those we rear or are reared by eventually become our friends. Then there are those who we just bond with and choose to do life with. People who take up space in our lives that we willingly and happily share. That kind of bond shouldn’t be dishonored by assuming that you will necessarily pick up where you left off. Life happens between those moments… its important to be intentional in supporting each other through them. You can design that in whatever way you see fit. Call, text, letter, card, zoom, group me, whatever. But it’s important, very important to maintain that connection in some way. Friendship with other people needs watering and nourishing like every other living thing in your life. Our friends are after all the personification of sharing.

Today, I became if “I’m gonna work at being more intentional in all my friendships” was a person… with some of y’all! Some folks don’t need to be picked up, just dropped off.

And you got my number too yo… Call Me Maybe!

The Teleporter

I woke up this morning with a slight headache. December 21st. Maybe I slept awkwardly… so I stretched my legs, rotated my head to the left and right, and moved my hips to loosen any tightness, crooks, or stiffness. I’m over 40… shit needs a reset most mornings. I kicked my legs out of the covers and off of the edge of the bed and raised off the pillow as my toes simultaneously hit the cool floor. A chill hit me, as I stood up and slid my glasses onto my face. I walked that too familiar twenty step trip to the bathroom, and said aloud… “Warm weather, drinks in coconuts, and beaches please.” I blinked twice as I hit the bathroom threshold. I stepped one foot in…

***

And my toes sunk and my eyes popped open like Jack in the boxes. My head was tilted down, but still almost blinded by the light. I felt heat and a droplet of sweat along my forehead, and as things came into focus I saw my feet, my toes hidden beneath an expanse of light brown sand. I watched water bubble up around my feet and wash away the sand as I wiggled my toes. I look up and there was water as far as my eyes could see. Two people frolicked past me and walked into the water until it was waist high. I turned to my right to see sparsely filled beach chairs, kids pouring the same stand I stood on from one bucket to another. I closed my eyes again, and reopened them… and now the bead of sweat was running down my nose. I reached down, expecting to touch cold tile but my fingers sank into the sand, and when I brought my hand together and lifted it up, the sand escaped from between my fingers like brown sugar, but not sticky. I walked toward the water bubbling up along the shore, and when the water washed past my ankle, I realized I was awake… not dreaming… not even daydreaming. A woman with a kid in hand walked up next to me.

I turned towards her, “It’s so nice to be in errr uhh… uhhh, I’m having a brain fart.”
She smiled and responded, “St. Thomas… I get the islands mixed up too sometimes.”

Oh my God…

I waited until she walked past me, and I did my happy dance. Thoughts and places ran through my head like Carl Lewis. I said aloud. “I want to see the Coliseum.” I closed my eyes. I still felt sand, and opened one eye to confirm. Damn now how did this shit work before. “I want to see the Coliseum in Rome.” I did the bewitched thing with my nose… nothing. “I want to see the Coliseum in Rome.” I blinked once. Ohhhhh shit, I remember. “I want to see the Coliseum in Rome.” Two blinks.

***

Noise. Loud noise. I opened my eyes, and a Vespa whizzed past me. I looked down and moved my feet. I was standing on concrete. I could hear horns and talking, people going on bags, cameras clicking, and phones ringing. I looked up and the sign and read it aloud “Piazza del Colosseo”. I lifted my foot off the hard street… wear shoes next time… and moved my ankle around. As I put it back down, someone rushed past me and I hurriedly put my foot down to keep from falling…pain raced up my foot to my leg. I again lifted my bare foot to see a rock underneath. Next time DEFINITELY wear shoes Karyn. I bent down to pick up the rock, and as I rose I turned towards the street. My eyes surely lit up like Christmas and got as big as saucers, as before me, more monstrously large than my mind could ever imagine, three stories of carved arches, the mastery of its architecture…


“What did you get” I heard as I felt a soft breath close to my ear. I turned towards the voice. He was tall, dark, modestly handsome.
“Uhhh who are you?”
”Mark but I call myself Black Mask,” he opened his backpack and inside was, yep you guessed it, a black mask, “ This was in my hand when I woke up. I’m not totally sure what all I can do yet.”
“I can teleport.” I said as I looked down at my bare feet, “ but I clearly I need to go get my shoes.” We laughed, and when the laughter subsided I blinked twice.

****

I felt a tap on my shoulder. “Ma, are you going to the bathroom cuz I gotta go.”

I didn’t speak I just moved out of the way. He closed the door. Stop daydreaming. I felt something in my palm, and as I opened my fingers from their grasp, there was that rock I stepped on.

Oh SHIT! That shit was real. I can teleport!!!! I hit a few more happy dancess, and “Wow” escaped from my mouth. “You wanna see wow, watch this,” my son mumbled from the other side of the bathroom door. The door seemed to blur a bit, and I wiped my eyes. Now I’m seeing things?!? As my hand cleared my right eye, I shook my head and looked again as I saw feet and arms extended out of the wood until his body emerged fully through the door. “I’d have rather invisibility, but I’ll take it. This is gonna be a greater winter break!”

WTF… The kid too!!!!

As he walked through his bedroom door, he paused and turned to me, “Oh, I’m gonna go by Sir Atom, you gotta come up with a name. And tonight there’s a superpower party, and the invite says Dr. Sebi’s Smoothie truck will be there. Your invite is in your email.”

He then disappeared into his room.

A name… a name…. hmmmm. The ability to travel across the land, over the seas, and through thin air, in a blink. They call me Trinity Beam.

I can teleport. This dude is intangible. What superpower did you get? Naw don’t tell me now, just show me later. I can’t wait to get me a Dr. Sebi smoothie tho… see y’all tonight!

Doctorate of Respeck

Yooooooooooooooo

White men are a wild ass bunch y’all. Last week they continued with the clownshit we have come to expect from rich, White, old men towards women.

On Wednesday, Tiffany Haddish told Variety that she turned down a request to host the Grammy’s pre-show for no compensation whatsoever, including hair and makeup. While Grammy’s chief, Harvey Mason Jr. , who is Black, claimed this was done without his consent, it’s proof that the Grammy’s brand is still very much run by the same “step up” attitudes towards women as former President Jeffrey Portnow famously uttered. Despite the interim President’s positive changes to the brand, there are still very antiquated ideals rampant in the Recording Academy. And just being honest, this reeks of rich, conservative, White guy. Then, on Friday, the Wall Street Journal posted an Op Ed written by Joseph Epstein, an author, essayist, and former anti-feminist editor of The American Scholar. Dude called feminists “dykes on bikes” but is being published in 2020 telling DOCTOR Jill Biden to drop the Dr. in front of her name because it is “fraudulent” as she didn’t graduate from medical school. Sir…

Listen… fuck them.

Let’s start with Tiffany Haddish, a two time Grammy nominated comic powerhouse… who does not need to be paid in exposure but in dollars. She’s already famous. This might have been a good idea for her career before she blew up, but this woman has had deals with HBO and Netflix. But like Hollywood does, she hasn’t made close to the money on these deals that her White counterparts or her male counterparts have made. So pay her in currency, cuz this ain’t the auction block where you get to have her walk and show her teeth to show she’s worthy of massa’s pick. She doesn’t need to be seen… she needs to be paid in equity. And White men need to stop acting like women, specifically Black women need to do more than exist and be the bosses that we are in order to get credit for our excellence. Period. This woman is a household name, treat her as such. Imogen Heap hosted last years Pre-Grammy show. No shade to her, but who is that? You gonna offer Tiffany Haddish something… offer her dollars. You aren’t doing her any favors sticking her on a streaming three hour show but more Instagram likes. Pay her in equity…. because like she said “The exposure is amazing, but I think I have enough.” Wanna know what she doesn’t have enough of, if we are comparing her to others in her field with the same amount of exposure… money!

So the Grammy thing got on my nerves. But so do most people’s Facebook posts so that’s not uncommon. But this Op Ed about Jill Biden burned my buttons clean off. I am buttonless. I’ve come undone. The sheer and utter audacity.

So first things first, I thought it said Jeffrey Epstein and I had to read the name twice. And I was immediately angry. This guy has never been accused of things as heinous as Jeffrey Epstein, but he clearly hates women just as much. So I went in a digging spree. Oh Joseph…

This clown, first, has no graduate degree to speak of that he earned… so he should close his mouth to things he is clearly uneducated about. Dude has an honorary doctorate, a Doctor of Humane Letters… because he’s supposedly distinguished himself in his field. But from what I’ve read he’s only distinguished himself as a sexist, racist, and homophobic asshole… do they do doctorates in that shit cuz boy boy should have that plaque.

This man is most known for his anti-feminism, misogynistic, homophobic, and racist esssys… so why is he being given a platform to spout more of the same hatred. That question remains. In addition to his wildly disrespectful and lewd commentary on feminists, he has also printed an essay that called homosexuals, who he stated he wanted eradicated, niggers. So we know his thoughts on both Black people, gay people, and women. All negative. Go figure. He’s a whole clown. So he sits firmly in his clowndom and pens an essay in which he claims proudly his doctorate is only honorary… which is when he should have put down his own, but goes on to say, “A wise man once said that no one should call himself “Dr.” unless he has delivered a child.”

Instead, he goes on a rant about Dr. Jill Biden’s EARNED use of the honorific as “bush league” and then goes on a whole jaunt down the path of honorary degree bashing, as if to give himself credence on the topic. All it really does, is show how immensely he hates women, and given his very wild homophobia… I’d venture to guess that he’s grappling with some closeted self-identity issues that cause this level of vitriol towards someone he clearly doesn’t know. Your slip, the silky one with lace, is showing Mr. Epstein. Conduct yourself accordingly.

The ignorant Epstein and this wise man he speaks of… should do better research. The title Dr. in front of ones name is Internationally a designation first for those who earn a Ph.D or other research oriented doctorate level degree. It also includes, in most countries, an M.D., or medical degree. In every country doctors don’t need doctorates, some only require bachelors degrees. In many countries PhD or research doctorate holders are automatically entitled to use Dr. and those in the medical field must be granted that authority by law. So, you see, as the holder of a research doctorate, just a special one in Education, Dr. Biden is more internationally recognized than say the medical doctor who may one day perform your top and bottom surgery Mr. Epstein.

Jill Biden earned her doctorate at 55 years old, an accomplishment in an of itself. But she has a total of four degrees, three graduate degrees. She i degree’ed up. Dr. Biden is the wife of the President Elect of the United States, a professor, head of the Biden Foundation, and co-founder of Joining Forces, an initiative to help veterans and military service members families. She is a certified boss. She deserves the respect of being called Dr. Biden.

The audacity… is overwhelming.

Women in America are still very much seem as second class, deemed less worthy of the accolades and rewards we have earned simply because marginalizing us, just like marginalizing everyone who falls victim to it, is meant to maintain the feigned superiority of rich, White, conservative men. Period. However, we keep coming back, keep getting back up on the proverbial bike no matter how many times you push us off the road. Pay us, acknowledge us, and put some respeck on our names. Get a doctorate in respeck, and write your dissertation on the history of audacity of rich, White, conservative men.

Until next time I am forced to speak on this audacity, I just wanna know… as a pulse check…