A Reflection on Water

Today we will measure the water; a 1/2 cup for Auntie Lila’s stuffing, 2 quarts to boil the macaroni and 6 cups for Grandma’s lemonade. If Thanksgiving had an official sponsor it would be water. This is true every day but especially holds on days like today where we gather to feast with family and friends.

But when it comes around to you and your little cousin Cam just said she’s thankful for her mom and dad, will you say you’re thankful for water? Will anyone?

This holiday is a bit fraught. Particularly this year it feels down right violent to pile a plate high in commemoration of a meal that never really happened as Indigenous folks and their allies are being attacked by water hoses and flash grenades as they deliver bottled water to folks standing in water they have vowed to protect. The very same water we boil our greens in.

Water protection has to be one of the most divine acts. As 71% of this planet and 50-65% of human bodies are water, when we guard it we are protecting ourselves, our food, our pets, our families and our Earth. It all flows together. It always has.

We must protect the water like our lives depend on it, because they do. And there is so much water to protect. Protect our lakes and rivers from coal ash. Protect Flint, Michigan, which has had contaminated water for 31 months and counting. Protect the water out west as Nestle bottled up water in the middle of a years-long drought. Protect the water that shouldn’t be streaming down the Black faces of the families and friends of #FrankClark AKA Scooter Bug, who was killed by Durham police on Tuesday, #IndiaBeaty, killed by Norfolk police in March as she attempted to break up a fight, and 15-year-old #JamesMeans, who was murdered 3 days ago for bumping into a white man. Protect the water that is home to so many refugees as they drift away from war and death in the hopes of finding lands of peace and rest. And protect the water protectors, who are putting their water-filled bodies on the line because they believe it is their duty to fight for that which can’t fight for itself.

Water has always shown us a version of ourselves. Our ancestors first saw themselves in water. Somewhere along the way, most of us lost that connection. But we must reestablish that relationship. Its for our survival. It’s what we are made of.

Be grateful for water. All of it. All the ways it shows up. Honor it. Dont take it for granted. Drink it straight. Make ripples and waves in it. Dont waste it. Conserve it. Share it. Visit it. Submerge in it. Look at yourself in it. Reuse it. Consider it. And fight like hell to protect it.

Here are some ways you can support the water protectors as they oppose the Dakota Access Pipeline:


Here are some simple ways to conserve water:


*Featured Image by Jackie Cooper


Black Girls Be Dishing on the First Time

When most people talk about their first time they are talking about the first time they laid down with someone and found out what all the fuss was about. But Im talking about another first. The Real First.  The first time you take a dump at your boyfriend’s house.

As little girls we are taught that our bodily functions are nasty and should be kept as quiet and as untraceable as possible (all while our brothers belch and fart for the Olympic gold is gassiness).  So we grow up covering up our little mouths every time we burp and clenching our butt cheeks together so that we are not the culprit of oppressive odors. Except when we shop.  Quiet as its kept, store aisles are specifically designed so that women can release gases that they have been holding in all day and quickly walk away with a box of banana nut oatmeal as if it is on their shopping list even though they know that they are allergic to bananas…. or maybe that’s just me (>_>)….. (<_<)….. (>_>)…..

So when we get older and we start dating, we confuse bubble guts for butterflies because we have been bound up since the 8th grade and the Browns are divas and will only play in the Superbowl on home turf(Get it, Browns…Superbowl! I’m a 12 year old boy on the inside. Forgive me).  So a few things start happening 1) The New Boo is attractive and makes you feel all fuzzy in your nether region just like Steve Urkel did every time he turned into Stephan so your stomach is doing flips  2) The Olympic cross-room dive you do whenever he texts/calls is more calisthenics than you’ve done all year 3) New Boo is taking you out to eat to share great conversation, libations and greasy, cheesy goodness  and 4) Any light to heavy petting is getting your blood moving  which is kicking up the Cupid Shuffle in your intestines.  Needless to say, New Boo is doing a number to your digestion.

So you’re chillin with New Boo, watching movies (or maybe the movie is watching you *winkity wink wink*) and New Boo is rubbing up on your booty (if you’re into that) and you feel that oh too familiar feeling of bubbles on the back end so you clench your cheeks together. New Boo asks if you’re ok cuz he felt your soft sumptuous rump turn into a bag of bricks and you say in your cutest little voice, “I’m fine,” as you hope that those bubbles will travel right on up until you can discreetly release them. But they dont! Those bubbles stay right there like you owe them money and you gone pay what you owe! And what’s even worse you can feel that they brought their bigger, more troublesome enforces and they have no intention of leaving.  So now you are standing at the precipice of the biggest issue you have had to deal with thus far in your relationship with New Boo.  Will you do number 2 at his house?

You excuse yourself as you make your way to the bathroom in slow motion, replaying your entire interaction with New Boo.  The laughs, the stories and all the meals. WHY!?!? WHY LAWD!?!?! WHY DIDNT I ORDER THE SALAD!?!?!? You bemoan as you walk through the bathroom door.  You sit down on the throne, still in disbelief that this is what your life has been reduced to. “Its too soon”, you think.  “I dont even know him that well”. “Im not ready for this” (mind you, you know all about the diamond mole on his behind and that disturbing face he makes when he *clears throat*…yeah) but before you know it has started.  As soon as you hear the ploop! you flush the toilet with the quickness of a Black woman grabbing her slipping Church hat-wig 2 piece combo during a Holy Ghost dance break.  But even with the lightning fast reflexes, smells still linger so you search this bachelor’s bathroom for some spray, incense, candle, matches, AXE… Something!  You find the aerosol under the sink, turn the water on high and do your loudest, raspiest Chaka Khan impression of Tell Me Something Good to hide the sound of spraying.  But the spray gets in your throat as you wash your hands.  So there you are hacking up a lung and praying that no disrespectful scents wafted under the door.

Then you hear it. His footsteps walking towards the door.  Its the moment of truth.  Will he pass the test or diss you for taking a dump and make you take the sh**ty walk of shame? You open the door.  “Are you ok,” he asks with a look of genuine care and concern. “I’m fine,” you reply as you quickly shut the door behind you. You know, just in case.  “I paused the movie. It’s getting good.” Ahh, he’s so cute and oblivious to the major milestone that ya’ll just achieved. Number 2 with the New Boo, excuse me, Boyfriend. Because, whether he knows it or not, yall go to together. And he just might be The One.

Black Girls Be Talking to Other Black Girls About Sex

First of all let me say that this is a scary blog post to release to the world because it is so very honest.  This is literally a text conversation that I had with previously featured Awkward Duck.  She is my home girl and we have very open conversations but this is one that I think deserves a platform for discussion.  *This is slightly explicit and there is a cuss word or two, just so you know. It has only been edited slightly for typos and comprehension but not for content and all italics is me giving you some insight. In theatre, that is called an aside.*

Welcome the Real World of the Blue Black Girl!

Me (The Blue Black Girl): I’m having a problem rectifying my desire for celibacy with my belief in sex positivity. And I need to be strong in this before I really get into a situation with a man that makes me feel things. Cuz I was already feeling something with Fireman Sam(Fireman Sam is a guy I met online that I have hung out with twice and I like him and could possibly really like him. And he’s a fireman and his name is Sam. Fireman Sam). And both times as soon as I felt it I bolted as fast as I could. What do you suggest?

Her (Awkward Duck):Well, for starters- I love that you call him Fireman Sam. Lol- ok now that that’s out the way, why is it that you want to practice celibacy? What do you want to accomplish. I think it’s important to note that you can be sexually positive and affirming without having sex. It simply means you support the autonomy over ones sexual wants/desires/acts. Celibacy isn’t the antithesis of this. Celibacy can be fruitful and healing- as long as your reasons for doing it is your own- and not from someone else’s values. The conflict you feel around guys is a natural physical response to wanting to have sex! But I’d suggest you revisit what you want and are your actions and decisions reflecting that. And that’s it not….this is what someone else said would get me what I want. If celibacy is what you want- you should express this at some point with your male friends

BBG-Mmm that’s a lot to discern. I believe that I want to be celibate for selfish & pure reasons & I’m having problems unpacking that. I am celibate because I, (my government name), want to have a chance to get to know a man & decide on him before my loins do. I think I have lost trust in my body because the people my body craves haven’t necessarily been good for my heart. I need to heal that rift between my soul & my sexuality. And then there is religious guilt. When I’m sexing someone I have feelings for it feels good in the moment & while we’re in love but when it doesn’t work I feel like God is punishing me for my lack of control & purity. And then there is the “My pussy’s too damn good mentality.” And not wanting to waste a perfectly good interaction with someone who doesn’t deserve it.

AD-Mmmm that’s good. But it seems like the issues flow from 1- religious morals and 2- your inability to separate the sex from expectations

BBG– Indeed. Because I don’t know how to half ass sex. So when I do it I go balls to the wall, all emotions everything. Just everything laid out bare. And I am disappointed if I’m not matched in my efforts.

AD-What is it that you deserve? What is it you want? (both rhetorical) sex is also healing, and reciprocal and there’s no better feeling than knowing you have control over letting yourself feel good. The muddled perceptions we have on sex from different parts of ourselves make it hard. So we create alotta stress on something so pure. And hey, it happens. Maybe it is good that you push back until you clear it with self. I just don’t want you sexually oppressing yourself or giving yourself guilt trips over something naturally and divinely made. I went back and forth- making myself stop using vibrators. Suppressing my wants. And there’s good in practicing strong will- I was driving myself crazy until I released it all. If I’m celibate it’s to allow my womb to heal-or to refocus- but it’s not a source of guilt for me anymore

BBG– I understand. And you’re completely right. I just don’t trust myself. My body is impulsive & assertive but in my mind I want to take time & let the man take the lead, at least at first. Because I feel that a man will take almost anything that’s offered on a silver platter. But I want to give myself to a man that truly wants me & not just my body. I just dont trust myself to make the right decision when it comes to men & relationships & sex. So it’s easier & admittedly lazier to put it on God or the man. But that’s not fair.

AD– Well that’s honest and real. I just wanna also note that you’re great- and that any man worth all your good energy isn’t going to give that up b/c he had sex with you too soon. But if it’s a fear of you getting hurt by the wrong one getting the goods-then will u be less hurt if he fucked up and didn’t get the goods? Meaning- is the source of pain that he had sex and was a jackass or that he’s just a jackass- where is it really stemming from?

BBG– I think because my sex & emotions are so intertwined I get upset that I got so emotionally invested that I let him into my sexual realm. So if he’s an asshole it’s too late I’ve already let him in.

AD– Got ya- so sex is inextricably tied to emotions for you- and often catapult those feelings into over drive. Have u given up on vibrators?

BBG-Yup. I’m naturally an over-lover & a fierce nurturer so I can’t control how I feel. So I am trying to refrain from doing things that exacerbate that preexisting condition. And I kind of have because the power & allure of sex isnt about the orgasm. It’s about the connection. The hands, the mouth, the skin to skin, eye to eye thing.

AD-From one nurturer to another- I understand that. Get that energy into some other vents some kind of way

BBG-That’s why I’ve been doing a lot of blogging & working & volunteering & trying not to focus on it lol

AD– Lmao. You sound like u in a heat


Continue reading

Black Girls Be Sad

Today was Chick-Fil-A Appreciation Day or National Same-Sex Kissing in Chick-Fil-A Day or Wednesday, however you want to look at it. Today as I walked to collect the mail from the post office, the streets of downtown Raleigh were blocked off to ensure the safety of one very important woman, Mrs. Michelle Obama. And that fact made this normally Blue Black Girl a Proud Black Girl.

Nevertheless, here was this woman who had the power to stop traffic, literally, & not because she had a little something something to her backside & was pedestrian eye candy. No. This Black woman is getting police escort & blockades as she travels, supporting her Black husband in his attempt to be re-elected as the President of this country. I went back to my office thinking one day I will meet here & we will be friends. Ok maybe that’s a little fantastic but a Black Girl can dream right?

So I get home & I see this:


And all that sweet dark chocolate love I had in my heart melted in my hand & not in my mouth. I just wanted to quit. Wanted to zip out of my skin like the slave workers in The Wiz and walk away. But for why?

There are so many things wrong. First of all, Chick-Fil-A is still fast food and is not good for you by any means. So for a community that is plagued with high blood pressure & high cholesterol to wave their fried food flag is just…

Second, Black folks should be the last ones to discriminate against another group. How short is our memory? How quick we’ve forgotten! Maybe we need to look at that firehose picture again or maybe we should all get bitten by an attack dog so we’ll have a point of reference. But that was us not even 50 years ago. So how dare… Ugh…

But this is my biggest problem, they are holding up their politically poly saturated sandwich in a sanctuary. Of a church. Which is supposed to be the house of God….

As a Black woman I have always struggled with being a Christian & knowing that I practice a religion that was forced on my ancestors. Every February I would ask my mother Why? How? But I never got an answer. In the last year I have rekindled my relationship with God & this is what I learned. God is Love. God is everywhere that love abounds & resides in everyone that lives in Love. It’s simple. And as a child of God I have the simple yet sometimes difficult task of finding the God in the people I meet & loving it fiercely. There are no exceptions & no buts. God sent his Son to give us one decree, “Love one another.” He did not say Love one Another except the gays or Love one another accept the illegal immigrants. No he stated it plainly, completely & did not leave anything or anyone out. And then He died for it, so we knew it was real.

I really don’t know what to do or say or feel from here, so I write. I really am the Blue Black Girl with a heavy heart. And I’m disappointed. So disappointed. We should know better. And as Dr. Angelou says, “When you know better you do better.” All I know is love so that is what I must do.

Black Girls be wishing they were Boys… Sometimes

Ok sorry fellas but its that time of the month. Yeah… that time. The time when women bemoan their genitals and all the horrible stuff that comes with them.  I get cramps so bad that I start apologizing for every bad thing I’ve done and will do.  Cramps so bad that I have fantasized that I was a philandering man in my past life which is why God is punishing me in this one.  I mean I must have been trifling with 4 baby mamas, bad credit, a gold tooth and a jherri curl.  And I know you’ve all said it or heard it before but women really go through everything.  Menstrual cycles, a 9 month long virus… I mean pregnancy, childbirth. I read somewhere that childbirth is equivalent to having 20 bones broken at once. TWENTY!!! 2-0!!! And then after you do that once or twice or 18 times (arent the Duggars on like their 18th child) then you get more cycles until your body is tired and decides to go through menopause.  And though I have not been blessed with children nor do I know the horror of menopause none of these things sound like fun.  Especially when I compare them to the things that my brothers go through.  But being a man has other advantages that I must admit I am a wee bit jealous of like:

  • Peeing standing up. I work at a community college in NYC and believe me the bathrooms can look like war zones.  But there are those rare occasions when squatting wont cut it and I am forced to use the paper to pad the seats.  But then I think about flesh eating bacteria and I wonder how this tissue paper is gonna protect my behind.  FYI: Did you know that that paper can also be used to as an oil blotting sheet. Scouts honor! Of course you shouldnt put it on the toilet first but you get my drift… I hope.
  • Writing one’s name in the snow.  Call me crazy but this is something that I have always wanted to do.  I havent tried it but I have thought about it… a lot. I have deduced that I would either need to drink 6 beers, shorten my name, run REALLY fast or grow a winky.  Needless to say its not looking too good for the home team.
  • Relieving one’s self outdoors.  There havent been too many times when I needed this skill but there have been a few.  And now that I am trying to live more of a “Carpe Diem” lifestyle I am going to make those opportunities more plentiful.  And maybe its my dominant personality that desires to splash a tree with my liquid DNA but whatever the case may be, I want to do that.  Dont judge me!

*Luckily there is this contraption, the GoGirl!  It allows women to pee standing up and on the go. Nifty, huh?

Umm lets see what else? Ok maybe all of my reasons involve the potty or not having to push a human being out of a hole that starts out the size of nickel or not bleeding for days while craving crunchy salty sugary junk and getting emotional while listening to Man in the Mirror.  Some of my reasons are sexual too but I prefer to keep my posts relatively PG in case I get hit by a bus and my family finds this blog.

I think thats it for now. I can only have but so many intelligible thoughts with this gnome doing a jig in my ovaries in soccer cleats.

Black Girls be Eating Clean

So I have been following this woman who goes by @bgg2wl on Twitter which stands for Black Girl’s Guide to Weight Loss. So I finally decided to check out her website of the same name and WOW!! Life. Changed!  She introduced me to clean eating in a way that really made sense to me on so many levels. Especially the lil conspiracy theorist inside of me with her posts about the FDA & USDA and their lack of concern for the health of the general population.  Her site is so comprehensive. I mean it literally has everything! Posts for information, inspiration, recipes, workouts and her own personal story. Oh yeah, she has lost over 100 lbs naturally. Just by eating clean and working out.  So I have been cooking at home, taking my lunch to work, counting calories and Zumba-ing my tail off and I have lost 4lbs… and counting.

So if you are also waging the battle of the bulge, check her out at blackgirlsguidetoweightloss.com. She made a believer out of me.