Monthly archives "January 2015"

What you don’t like today, you will love tomorrow!


My skin was all wrong, my hair all wrong, my face all wrong, sliced and cut and put in a trance by the songs of Ogun and as he danced I became like the object that the snake charmer sang to, and I swayed, forgetting time as the machete moved and danced in his hand time slowed, slowed, slower, slower, slower until I stopped and the slice of my face stung. I am a wild girl, unruly, untamed and although they shame me I refuse to acquiesce for fear that I may die if I live for anyone other than myself.

They wanted to call it child abuse, muthafuckas always a day late and a dollar short, always the trickster, talking you out your shit now everybody talkin bout TRIBAL or TRIBE with painted marks on their faces, when it’s mine it ain’t shit but after you steal shit it’s We? They make you scared to be yourself!


Tell me about a time when someone stole your style, work, creative endeavor and tried to make it theirs. Leave a comment below, thanks.


Is your weak vagina the cause of your unhappiness?

Dark and shadowy close up beauty shot of woman with glossy lips and strands of wet hair falling across the face


Magic City was the first male strip club I had ever gone to when I went to visit my cousin’s in Atlanta. Magic City is like a Dance Club that just so happens to have strippers. That night was wild and fun, I ordered a lap dance for my then husband-we had a ball.

Strip clubs in L.A. are different,they are not off-limits to women-I just think of them as sacred spaces for men. From what the homies tell me, they’re the places men like to go to relax and eat chicken wings-they swear “Stars” strip club has the best chicken wings. Others have said they like to go for the tricks the women do. I’ve had men tell exciting stories of one stripper being able to make a roll of quarters disappear inside her vagina- releasing and staking them one by one on the dance floor.

Now imagine the wonder and awe it sparked in me hearing this story and how shocked I was when I learned that women are willing to pay upwards of $5000 (or valued up to $5000) to have their vaginal issues resolved. I’ve said it before and will say it -again-every man, I know has said to me,” If They Had a Pussy, They Would Never Be Broke!

What do you think about the topic. Leave a comment below. Peace and Blessings!

Poverty Pimping!

Hunter Sleeping with Deer Head


I recently found out about another diabolical organization clocked in helping and improving the lives of black women. The only thing going on in this nationally recognized organization is ” Poverty Pimping!” I got out of the social services game because I got tired of poverty pimping…..I spent most of my own salary caring for and making my clients’ goals a reality. I have watched over and over agency after agency non-profit after non-profit collect money for programs and leave their clients hanging.

I’ve watched owners and founders of organization collect money in the name of women and children and not want to spend a dime on services for them. Many of the poverty pimps have people in the community fooled as if they are good stewards, their reputation give them status… truth be told, they ain’t shit and it has been far too long that I have been silent about it. Many of these organizations pay fines for their violations yet they continue to get funding.

At the end of the day, you are impacting lives, it’s not like selling shoes, social services is supposed to be about making peoples’ lives better. They are no shortages of impoverished people, there will always be someone in need. The idea of keeping a person down so that you can receive money without providing something of value in return is ruthless! And the cold thing about it, is there are so many women at the head and helm of these organizations.

I usually check these folks personally hoping that their behavior would change but it doesn’t. The one thing that happens is that they usually hang themselves with their own greed but often times never enough to put them out of business. I worked for one agency that paid dawn near $70,000 in fines in 1 year. They were making so much money that the Program Manager lived in the Hollywood Hills next to A-list Hollywood stars.

Join the conversation, leave a comment below!

Pussy Frenzy!!!!

Young Woman with Petal in Her Mouth


“I’m a woman of a certain age”,  as Wendy Williams likes to say and never in my life have I been obsessed in wanting to control a man’s penis, but for whatever reason men are obsessed with “Pussy”! I am in owe of my own ignorance of just have magically powerful the womb is, in so much that I cannot understand the preoccupation that white men-especially have with Pussy in so much so, they stole a South African women’s womb and put it in a jar and passed it around like a museum piece and buried her without it, the Ratbastard’s stole the cervix cells of another Black woman and are making billions of dollars off her stolen parts and lest not forget that these men could not keep their dicks out of the millions of  so-called  non-human  black women that were stolen from the shores of West Africa………Is this Pussy Envy?

Who should have the final say in women’s reproductive rights? Let your voice be heard. Leave a comment.

Many roads lead to the same destination


Could you imagine the traffic jams that would occur if we all had to take one road in life? How many opportunities would we miss, if we all had to travel the same road?

I came across this video after staying up searching for book reviews for a book entitled Dance Wisdom by Yvonne Daniel, which lead me to reconnect with Katherine Dunham and that took me down- memory lane of the Modern Dance World, which lead me to this video. I was mesmerized by this dance and it should be fitting that it was an ancestral dance, seeing as this week marked the anniversary of deaths by people close to my heart.

As I searched for information of the Jola people-it became quite clear that most of the information about them was contradictory. Some articles maintained that the Jola people had remained Indigenous while others claimed their souls had been saved by Islam and or Christianity-by close observation it seems-they continue in the ways -of their Old Tradition.

In keeping with Indigenous Right Issues, I decided to post, a first hand account from a traveler named Kat.

What customs in your culture would you be unwilling to give up? Leave a comment below.

What is your language of love?


Portrait of young woman with lips covered with sprinkles

When was the last time you completely surrendered to love without flight or hesitation, without judgment and fear? When is the last time you allowed your self to lay in love, to tranquillize you, the way you do when you float on water, knowing that, even if you cannot swim, if you completely surrender-the water will carry you? I am trying to figure out the words to describe the way I felt reading about Radical Love, it left me feeling the way I felt, the night I was blind-folded in a room of people playing Wisconsin Sleepers and recognizing and using Reggie’s voice as a guide each time he called my Yoruba name, in those moments it felt like we had transported and he was guiding me out of a maze and I felt loved, safe and protected.

Join the movement!

Who do you love? Leave a comment below!

Vaginas as weapons?


Woman Covering Herself with Hands

There is nothing more exciting than an intelligent man who isn’t afraid of the power of the Shugga Bowl as my grandmother used to call it! And it so speaks to the piece that I wrote entitled, “If your vagina was a superhero-what would it look like?”

The faces etched in our hearts

There are days when sadness cannot be treated like you treat someone you are trying to love from a long handed spoon. And having no expectations seems highly unlikely and makes no sense at all if you come from the school of God shows up and shows out. Not having expectations seems like having no faith or hope and as I write this I see Shannon’s face, his beautiful charcoal black skin and the face of an old blues singer when he sat quiet and how he looked like a Senegalese boy playing drums when he laughed. Shannon was my ex-husband’s best friend from childhood and although as teenagers and young adults he rarely spoke and everything he said was a whisper like wind on your cheeks, I miss him and will never fully understand how such a gentle person could be shot and killed. And I wonder if all the dead bodies and empty spaces in our hearts are why it is so hard for us to love one another and get along. More importantly, I wonder how often Shannon’s mother thinks of him and if she knows that I cry for him for her.