Black Girls Be Packing

She had waited a long time for this day but in that moment in seemed like she never had enough time at all.  She took a deep breath and checked the chest one last time. Linens, sheets, her one church dress, her good shoes all there.  The pot she saved all summer for and her rolling pin.  She asked him if he had one at the house already and he said, “No.  Cant say that I do. And if I do I dont know where it is.” “What kind of kitchen doesn’t have a rolling pin?” she asked herself as she stuffed it in the chest betwinxt her shoes and her white sheets.  She had packed this chest for such an occasion as this and was still unprepared. It lacked mini ruffled socks and gloves for precious hands and feet, but how could she know? She fingered the fabric she stalked until it was discounted with the distinct plan of making the only white dress she would wear. She always thought it would be so sweet for her daughters to wear the scraps of her dress in their hair as bows; she just didnt think it would be so soon.

She married that man, moved into his house and raised his kids. And dont you know, 75 years later it was the rolling pin and not the linens that her great granddaughter used.

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Black Girls Be Having Birthdays!

Yesterday, August 29, 2012 was my birthday.

I am 23 years old.

I am 23 years old and I live at home.

I am 23 years old and I live at home and I am working.

I am 23 years old and I live at home and I am working and it’s part time.

I am 23 years old and I live at home and I am working and it’s part time and in my field.

I am 23 years old and I live at home and I am working and it’s part time and in my field and I enjoy it.

I am 23 years old and I live at home and I am working and it’s part time and in my field and I enjoy it and I dont have any children.

Let me say that again…

I am 23 years old and I live at home and I am working and it’s part time and in my field and I enjoy it and I dont have any children.

I am 23 years old and I live at home and I am working and it’s part time and in my field and I enjoy it and I dont have any children and I dont have a husband.

I am 23 years old and I live at home and I am working and it’s part time and in my field and I enjoy it and I dont have any children and I dont have a husband and I dont have a boyfriend.

I am 23 years old and I live at home and I am working and it’s part time and in my field and I enjoy it and I dont have any children and I dont have a husband and I dont have a boyfriend and I dont even have a consistent boo thang.

I am 23 years old and I live at home and I am working and it’s part time and in my field and I enjoy it and I dont have any children and I dont have a husband and I dont have a boyfriend and I dont even have a consistent boo thang BUT

I have the support of my wonderful family and I have amazing friends and my friends are old and new and near and far and black and white and I am making a difference in my community and I am creating my own definition of success.

I am 23 years old and I am blessed.

Black Girls Be Afraid to Fall

Everyone wants to fly. And when you’re young you try. You flap your arms. You tie on bed sheets & towels to give yourself an extra push. You climb up to the highest peak you can find before someone older & wiser hopefully calls you back. You may even get a spanking. But it doesn’t matter. You still want to fly.

That is until you fall. It may be that first bad knee scrape off a bike from taking a corner too hard. It may be a trip & tumble in a crowded room. Or you may even get pushed, getting a mouthful of dirt. Whenever and however it happens doesn’t matter, except it does. Because in that moment most of us stop trying to fly. We decide that the pain & humiliation of the fall isn’t worth the freedom & the beauty of the flight.

That’s where I am. Aviator goggles on, bed sheet secured across my squared shoulders, arms outstretched and feet cemented to the ground. I’m stuck. I know I could fly, I should fly, hell I would fly if only I would leap. But the ground is so hard. And my heart is so fragile.

Or maybe this is Inception. Maybe I’m dreaming of a new flight when in reality I’m still laying at the bottom of an emotional ravine, too tired and too broken to do anything but dream.

I loved once. And this love was a first class, all expense paid trip to everywhere and nowhere. The kind of love that made grocery aisles exotic getaways and Wendy’s drive through five-star dining. This was “Cant get no better cuz it feels too right.” So I took it and I flew with it. I let it grow me and groom me into a groove. I fell asleep at the wheel as love took a nosedive into nothing. And just like that it was gone. Over. Maybe I didn’t learn my lesson because as soon as I was offered this Too Good to Be True love I took it. Maybe it didn’t hurt enough the first time. Or it hurt too good. Or I thought I was too good to fall again. But the truth is the flight was just that good that the fall was worth it. And it still is.

I want to fly again. I want to feel Love’s wind carry me, wrap me and deliver me to a soft, sure landing. But I’ve hit turbulence, been through a couple storms and I’m not sure my vessel can take the journey again. No. That’s a lie. I love the flight. The freedom and foolishness of it all. But it’s the fall that makes me appreciate it. It’s the fall that reminds me I’m still alive.

Black Girls Be Waxing Poetic: Classic

I knew from the moment

You traced your slightly calloused fingers

Across my brown leather bound cover

I was to be your lover.

It was the delicate way

You turned my thick pages

And annotated my difficulties for further understanding.

You knew I held secrets,

My lineage musky, the color of sun dried tears and watermarks.

Crackin my spine for the first time

You had me open.

Woke.

Laid out flat and ready to spill.

I became your morning cock crow

And your evening delight

Craning to every crevice

Where you had just enough light

To pursue and that you did

Trivial at first

Until I wrapped my wickedly worded web

Intricately up in and through

Your innermost intimate inclusions.

Innocently concocted a mixture

Sure to create an addiction to my diction.

Sexually satisfying your sinful sensations with my syntax

Titillating the tip of your… tongue

Through my tall tales.

And now that I have you where I want you,

A thick-rimmed fiend grasping at the last light

Begging for just one more line

Let me tell you:

If you be my Teacake

I will lactate love

Thick and sweet like cheesecake

Ripened with perfection

Craved. A rich indulgence.

Rome my jeweled Capulet

With reckless abandon

And youthful disregard

My apothecary prowess

Will hide you from all harm.

Trace back my Roots

You will find

That this story has

No beginning and no end

Just a cycle of us

Finding Life is Choice and Love is Truth

Then mark me brazen

A lightning bolt across a starless sky

So all who see me know

I belong to a boy who loved and lived.

And when the end of our tale draws nigh

You will know me without

The opening of an eye.

Myths, fables and stories

Made, Bought and Sold

But a Classic love

Is the Greatest story never told.

Black Girls Be Choosin

Im not sure if this is a post, an essay, a poem or a song.

Im not sure if this will be short or if this will be long

All I know is that it is mine to decide.

Life is Choice.

This thing called life is nothing more than a collection of choices, both conscious and subconscious and their subsequent results.

While in DC I had an awesome talk with a woman named Ann.  I pretty woman with brown eyes, short brown hair and an easy smile. Catholic and pro-choice she didnt allow her politics to affect her pleasantries and I respected that.  I had never had a conversation about abortion in which I disagreed with the person but respected the discourse.  I told her that I, myself dont think I could go through with it.  I am a serial nurturer and I get emotional thinking about my future children but that is me.  That is my choice. I have a great many thoughts and have learned a great many things but the only thing I know for sure is that I dont know anything.  I am not bold enough to tell someone how they should live their life or use their body.  I am not bold enough to make that choice for someone else.

When my mother was pregnant with me she was 26 and unwed. Folks gave her money and told her to abort me.  She decided not to even before she knew whether or not my father would stick around.  He did.  And they have been married for 23 years.  I told Ann this and she said it was a beautiful story, which it is, and I also told her that I know I am an anomaly especially in the Black community.  But I told her that even if my mother had aborted me and my parents stayed together I would still be me.  I am more than a meeting of chromosomes.  I am experiences, situation, Choices.  I am a choice.

Im saying all that to say that yes I have decided to be celibate.  No I am not on birth control. No I have never had an abortion.  And I have refrained from these things not because of a mandate or a religion but because I chose to.  Every day I choose to live my life the way I see fit.  And I believe that everyone should have the same choice.