Black Girls be Coming Out

Happy New Year! I know it’s the 17th but I will be the obnoxious one to say Happy New Year til March. Me Nah Care! And what better way to start the new year than to come out!? No I am not talking about my sexuality even though I have some sinfully scrumptious home girls (Lana, Rell I’m lookin at ya’ll :-)). No I am talking about the blogger’s closest.

Today, January 17th, I came out to my friends and family as a blogger.  I was gonna do it at some point but being dubbed a “Fierce Female Blogger” by LC who runs Colored Girl Confidential pushed me to it (You can read the post here.) So I shared the post on Facebook so my FB folks could see and I posted this status:

I have a blog. Most of you dont know about it because I write about things that I may or may not want you to know about. But its 2013, I’m 23 years old and I write my truth. I refuse to apologize for my truth. So enjoy at your own risk 🙂

And then I got scared. Remembering why I chose to blog in secret to begin with. Not wanting to hold my tongue or consider my audience. Wanting to be free to express myself without tarnishing my good girl image. Thinking back on all the posts I wrote about my crushes, my politics, celibacy and sex. Oh shoot, SEX! So I wrote this:

P.S. Mom and Dad this post does not pertain to you. You two are barred from my blog. No really. Im serious.

But they are really not the worst of my fears. I thought of my ex. The one that I am trying to be friends with. And the posts, some rather recent, that I know, if he reads them, he will know are about him.

But I have told no lies here.  And even if that truth was only truth for a moment, it was real to me when I sat down at the computer.  And I refuse to apologize or feel guilty for that.

So to all the new subscribers, readers, visitors… HEY!!! I hope you enjoy yourself but Im not sorry if you dont. Because this is my little safe place on the internet.  So sit back, relax and join me on my journey. Or dont. Its all love either way.

Oh yeah, and one more thing, if you have any issue, complaint or comment please feel free to take it up with me. I’m a big girl. I cant handle it.

~The Management



Black Girls be Politicking

On my way back from my first puppet show rehearsal (yeah, more about that later) I saw a sign.  It said, “Watch for motorcycles. Check your blind spots. Share the road.”  Now, I dont know what it was about that sign that made me think about politics but it did. Check your blind spots.  Share the road.  They seem like simple little innocuous sayings but they are not.  It seems like “checking our blind spots” and “sharing the road” have become revolutionary ideas.

Being blind is not seen as an asset.  It is categorized as a disability, a weakness.  “Blinded by love” is to lose all of one’s common sense while under Cupid’s spell and no one wants to be “robbed blind.”  But when we are driving down the highway in our vehicles of various sizes, singing our favorite songs we dont always own up to our lack of vision. “He was in my blindspot!” (Why is the driver always a man until proven otherwise?) He was in my blind spot. Like how dare he be in a place that inconveniences me. The nerve of him.

I would say its all the political talk that usually follows conventions that incited this train of thought, but its not.  Recent events have introduced me to my blind spots.  Two weeks ago, I had the honor to meet Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist Jose Antonio Vargas (@joseiswriting for all the tweeps) and he made me check my blind spot that is the 12 million undocumented Americans in this country.  Yeah, let that sink in. 12 million.  People who work, eat, sleep, pray, live, love and are just as American as anyone else.  Oh, and they drive too.  We share the road with them every day.  We dont ask to see their IDs before we let them pass us.  We treat them with the same respect, or disrespect, that we would give any other driver. We have to; for everyone’s collective safety.
The elections are fast approaching. And though I have hope I also have concerns. Because certain political parties and players have made it clear that not only are they disregarding their blind spots but they have no interest in even admitting that there are blind spots that need to be checked.  And I am very afraid to see what kind of country we will have if they get behind the wheel.   Win or lose, black or white, red or blue, we will all have to share the road.  There are only so many people we can run over, cars we can leave unattended and wrecks we can let disrupt the flow of traffic before none of us will be able to get anywhere.  We are the potentially homicidal drunk driver on the highway to progression.

The solution is simple.  Check your blind spots.  Whether or not you see them, they are there. The undocumented, the homeless, the single parents, the unemployed, the homosexual, the impoverished, the mal-educated and the malnourished. Whether or not you see them, they are still there. And they have just as much nerve and just as much right to be here as you do. Share the road, so we can all get where we want to go.

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.

Black Girls Be DC Chillin: The Adventures of Awkward Duck & Me Pt 1

This all started several months ago when Awkward Duck (who will henceforth be known as Duck(If you are a 5 Heartbeats fan as I am you will understand how happy that makes my heart & if you have never seen the 5 Heartbeats, make it happen)) called me and asked if I wanted to go with her to DC for a fast and vigil against the death penalty.  Duck works for a national organization that works with states to appeal the death penalty.  She needed a volunteer and my travel, lodging and registration would all be covered.  Of course I said Of course! Social justice+Free Trip=Im in there! I hadnt been to DC since a school trip way back in ’99 and I had heard so many great things about Chocolate City so I was excited.  Time finally comes and I hop on a bus and travel the 5 hours to DC.  Duck meets me at the station and we make our way to drop off our luggage.

Now I knew we were staying in a shelter.  She even asked if that was ok and I told her yeah.  All the other activists were staying there and I wanted to be down for the cause.  Well I dont know what I thought a shelter was but this was a REAL shelter.  The info said there was a separate section for volunteers and activists doing work in DC but it was nothing more than a partitioned room with monitors(residents with some sort of responsibility) on one side and us on the other.  These were prison bunk beds with one inch cots.  You even had to take your own toilet paper to the bathroom.  Needless to say I was apprehensive but I tried to hide it as I made up my bed.  So we put our stuff down and went out to explore DC.  We walked to the Supreme Court to see if anyone from our group was there.  There wasnt but instead we found the reporters still camped out as Thursday was the historic day that the justices upheld the Affordable Care Act (otherwise known as Obamacare) as constitutional.  Duck kept saying that she wished we had gotten to DC earlier so that we could have been there when the decision came down.  Reports say that there were thousands of people out celebrating the good news and a few who were against it.

We began to walk in search of something to drink because we had both been on buses all day and were parched.  We finally found a place, got smoothies and sat on a bench for an hour and a half talking, laughing and watching people go by.  Duck bought a few Groupons because someone got her credit card information and bought $200 worth of merchandise at a Coach store in New Jersey.  She went ahead and bought the Groupons so that she would have at least 2 meals before her card was cut off. So that night we had Indian.  It was really good but I didnt finish so I had leftovers for later.  From there she took me over to U street and my life has never been the same!  There were so many good looking Black folks! And the brothers… ooh the brothers.  Just chocolate and well dressed and looking like they had all kinds of health, dental and eye benefits.

SIDE NOTE: I am not a gold digger.  I could care less what a man makes however I know the importance of good benefits.  And as a bearer of life it is my responsibility to make sure that my future kids have benefits. That is all.

We just walked around looking.  I am celibate (at least I am going to try really REALLY hard) but after seeing all the menses I knew that I would need to do my bible study and say all my prayers while I was there.  By now Duck decided that we wouldnt stay in the shelter.  She said she saw the look on my face even though I tried to hide it and that we would stay with her homeboy in Maryland.  I cant even lie and say that I wasnt glad she made that decision.  We made our way back to the shelter to get our stuff & as we were about to run up the steps to our room the man at the front desk bellows “HEY! HEY! HEY!” all loud and aggressive.  Duck was in front of me so she comes back down the steps.  He asks where we were going and she says we’re with the fast and vigil, the activists.  “You can talk nicer than that though,” she adds and we go on upstairs.  We thought that was the end of it so she goes to the bathroom as I unmake my bed and pack my stuff.  Next thing I know Duck comes in telling me to hurry up cuz they are trying to call the cops on her.  I move as fast as I can, hoping that this is a misunderstanding.  But as I get down the stairs I see the man from the front desk fussing with Duck and literally carrying her stuff out the door.  We get outside and they are going at it! So we pump off(translation: walk off with attitude) but two men are following us.  They are telling us to wait so we can talk about what happened.  As the bystander I gave them my unbiased account.  It really wasnt that serious and that man blew it way out of proportion.  We let bygones be bygones even though the man never apologized and walked to the metro to go to Duck’s friend’s house.

As we were getting off the train, my heavy bag cracked my pinky nail and it started to bleed (this is important 1) because it REALLY hurt and 2) I asked about 20 people over the course of 3 days if they had a nail clipper and they all said NO. Clearly DC folks dont get hang nails.).  He picked us up, took us to his house and after showering we all laid down on his California king and though this may sound a lil kinky, I promise there was no sex in the champagne room.  I was knocked out!

And if I knew then what I knew now I would have cherished that sleep cuz I was definitely going to need it.