Category "Bullshit Aint Nothin But Chewed Up Grass and Cows Do Even Want It"

Manbo’s mud pies and the 9 line!

 

 

Beyoncé makes lemonade, Goddesses like me make bone soup, some Enchanters make rock soup and Magical Manbos make mud pies. It really bothers me that the media is so powerful that even when you would prefer a topic not to be in your head you simply can’t help it-they force you to take notice. And so I am discussing  Lemonade and  Beyoncé.

Although I fought talking about this subject because a) we already know what a is because I discussed in the first paragraph, b) as far as I know I do not believe Beyoncé herself has critiqued her own artistry of her visual Lemonade album, c) after being unable to uplift myself using a series of white female perspectives and activities I turned to bell hooks and Cornell West, d) after watching Cornell and bell flirt like Tango dancers  as they discussed real black issues I was led to a video by a smart, funny ass, brilliant minded black female reading bell hooks about her critique of Beyoncé’s Lemonade and e) and after reflecting on Danielle Laporte’s response about black women’s suffering -I  had to weigh in.

Since ” feminism is fluid” as the new term states the one thing that remains fluid is the difficulty in black female and male relationships and as bell hooks addressed in one of her lectures; she admitted to not being able to help her sister find a practical and adequate way of dealing with her husband’s disrespectful behavior as he often tells her to ” Shut Up!” Although  bell hooks is the leading black feminist she had to admit while feminism had great theories which she herself is famous for writing about, however, she could not help her sister with her dilemma. With all the ” Movements” in black history, the push for education instead of liberation can we be so surprised about the hoopla over the way Beyoncé’s Lemonade album is being consumed.

What I find ironic, is how so many black males who are labeled ” Thugs”  so much resemble the prolific Jay Z in manners, language and swagger yet black hood love is not exalted in the same way Jay and Bee’s love is. There is much disdained received by the black women who choose to love them and the lack of support from the black community for everyday regular folk black love. How often do we question the constant judgment and jealousy received by these men who are told that they are undeserving of a “Good Girl” makes me question the education of  the so-called feminist cheering for the salvation of a woman clearly in love with a black thug, somewhat contradictory and seemly not a practical application of the code of feminism or its theories.

For example, Ciara (whom many label a hoodgirl) whose beautiful, talented , accomplished and smart has been so disrespected for getting ready to be wifed up  by Russell Wilson. Somehow, Ciara has been tainted by having had an intimate relationship and a child with Future, that somehow Future ain’t shit for having several children with different women. Yet, Beyoncé isn’t ridiculed for Jay Z’s ( as Benita Butrell would say I ain’t the one to gossip so you ain’t it from me) supposed secret oldest love child who looks just like his ass! (Streets be talkin!, why you bullshitn!)

I’m confused -Russell Wilson is too good for Ciara (even though he’s a divorced man),  that Ciara by default does not deserved to be loved and or supported by a man least of all a ” Good Man!” Does anyone see the schizophrenia in all of this? Queen Bee’s marriage is sanctioned and celebrated to a black man who if his name weren’t Jay Z would without a doubt be labeled a “Thug”.  Am I saying this with judgment-absolutely not cause I’ve loved and liked a so-called undeserving black men myself- I’m just addressing the crazy making behavior and again addressing the issue of ” Whose deserving of Love? Whose deserving of money? Whose deserving of sex? Whose deserving of success? Whose deserving of being sanctioned and validated? Whose worthy? And who are the worthy makers?” What defines a Good Man and what are the true qualifications for a ain’t shit nigga cause the lines seemed to be blurred if one is following pop culture?

And while we pin point the worthy makers, let me address the new romanticism of the Orishas that many black folks new to the culture are pushing ( cuz hear me clearly when I was growing up black folks as a whole wasn’t checking for Africa and if I were to count all the times I was told I was going to hell, plus all the African Booty Scratchers I was called from the young  to the elderly makes me give the side eye while I wind my ass to Drakes new song with the Afrobeat but that’s another story)  without the full understanding that they ain’t for sale  and at the same time ” ain’t no free lunch!” as the economist say and that they have the full range of complexities of humans so please believe when you start calling the Orishas’ names you have to start putting in  and doing the work to be healed  because ain’t no waiting to be rescued or blaming somebody else for the choices that you make and they all know whose on the 9 line standing next to you that the eyes caint see- making everybody deserving!

 

 

 

 

 

Why outside validation is the gateway drug for self loathing

17 Feb 1943, Braddock, Pennsylvania, USA --- Original caption: Braddock, Pennsylvania: Targets For Today. This self explanatory signboard outside the U.S. Steel Corporation subsidiary at Braddock, Pa., is the ideal outlet for any seething hate you may feel for the baddies of the Axis. The sign makes a perfect target for some snowball throwing youngsters at the moment. --- Image by © Bettmann/CORBIS

I woke up this morning with an attitude-I was trying to sleep in but Shango woke me up to thunder so strong and loud I thought it might be the end of the world. He had been trying to get my attention for sometime seeing as he was feeling neglected. I got issues with some of his children-he promptly told me not to take it out on him. My apologies.

I said, all that to say, that if I hear one more supposed thought leader, business leader whom ever say ” Ashe!” or “Tribe!” I’m going to slap the shit out of somebody! Although, I was born in Los Angeles I was born into the Yoruba culture. I got tribal marks at age 4 years old and I remember that Ogun ceremony like it was yesterday up until the first slice to my face.

I was 4 years old walking to the well to get water to cook and to bathe with, hell even before the age of 4 I was carrying water and baskets of food and clothes on my head. I know what it is to live without electricity or running water and if pushed comes to shove I can hunt for my own food, I don’t want to but I know how and I didn’t learn it from the show Survivor.

I’ve lived the life that so many are trying to make a trend or a fade. He’ll I remember when Negros did not want to be African. I got cussed out as a child by adults disclaiming their heritage to the continent. He’ll I regulated myself to making up a lie just to deal with eg’nent ass niggas. Ask me how many times we were called African Booty Scratcher? Ask me how many children of the founders and pioneers of Oyotunji made up stories because the truth seemed stranger than fiction just to keep a nigga off your ass so you could have Peace and now niggas talkin bout, ” Ase!” Really? That’s why I love my cousin Derrick so much because he used to fuck people up for messing with me, my siblings and my cousins. He was always my protector.

So when the Color Purple came out and Negros acted a dam fool-protesting and shit I was relieved that the movie contained a scene of a girl getting tribal marks and the duality scene of Suge running to stop Celie from slicing Mr’s neck and the girl cringing awaiting her face to be cut is an accurate feeling you get right before the you shed blood.

Hear me clearly, this is not a passive culture, this is an accountability culture, where you gone have to answer to somebody. This ain’t no lady in waiting, see you in the after life business. All I got to say is everybody can git in the back of me cuz I was here first! The problem with humility is it causes you not to give credit or credence to your damn self and every time you wait on someone else to validate you, you run the risk of someone stealing your shit! Ase

22 Oct 2014 --- Woman eating cherries, close-up --- Image by © zerocreatives/Westend61/Corbis

 

#1 way to prevent identity theft-nail shit down!

Folks will steal yo shit if you don’t nail it down-Yeye

Each time that I doubt myself, feel less than, wonder if what I have to say is important I am reminded of the truth that people will say the things you do, the talents you have, the stories you tell aint shit and then them same Ratbastards will turn around and steal yo shit as you stew in self-doubt.

“You gotta nail shit down or folks gone steal your shit. If you want your shit you better nail it down!” My Yeye said, this slogan like a jingle for a commercial. I used to think for a long time my father was 5150 yet the older I got I learned my mother had my father beat. But as wild and out of control as they were when it came to real life advise and wisdom they made good sense and I listened to them even when they didn’t make sense. See your life got to catch up to your parents sayings and wisdom before they ever make any sense to you, that’s why the old heads say, ” Keep Livin!”

See good parents and great parents aren’t perfect-they fuck up alot along the way, however the good seeds they plant in you will help you grow roots so deep in the earth when this life tries to break you down and make you feel less than, not good enough or undeserving-after you shake the bullshit off caint nobody tell you shit.

This brings to mind, I have been wanting to write and talk about my cousin Derrick but I would have to mention how he broke out of jail and was on America’s Most Wanted at one time yet as much as I know it’s a true story, it sounds completely made up until I ran across this video. I was up late at night and had to get up early so I was thinking how  I could wake up the next morning without being bitchy on a couple of hours of sleep and this video sumed up what my Yeye always used to chant to me.

“You gotta nail shit down!”

 

 

How to have stick to itness?

Ride a bike...

 

 

 

I made a declaration that I wasn’t leaving the house this past Sunday because I needed some Me time. With this in mind, around 4 something am in the morning, a loud crash and sound woke the block up. As I stood in the door looking in the dark, watching the neighbors talking amongst themselves squinting their eyes trying to find and see the culprit and locate the damage of the loud noise.Rather than rack my brain and wake myself up fully, I decided to return to bed until the sun came up to be able to see where the damage was even though I had a feeling that somehow I would be effected by the loud sound.

Keeping my promise to myself, I lay in bed, beyond my normal hour only to get a call from my family member telling me that my car had been hit and the neighbors car had been hit also. With my loved one on the phone I went outside to see the damage. My tire was flat, the rim was almost off the tire and there was a dent in the side of the car. My neighbors truck had several dents and he also had a flat tire. I took a deep moan and said, Oh no!….. and felt a second of sorrow until I looked to the right and saw a car with the tire and rim blown off with the back of the car sitting on the front engine of the car in back of it with the hood crumpled and then next in line was a BMW with the front end wrecked.

And once I took the scene to my right in, I died laughing and almost peed on myself because all the neighbors were out trying to recreate how the scene happened. And as a watched the Hood CSI crew go through possible scenarios of how the damage was caused….I laughed my ass right in the house and get back in the bed because I had said I wasn’t leaving the house that day and I wasn’t because my car had been hit by some random drunk driver. I let all my initial negative emotions go and stayed committed to having a relaxing day.

As the morning progressed, L.A.P.D. showed up and as I looked out of the shutters I saw my neighbor talking to the police confessing to the damage that had been done earlier that morning. Long story short, my little Native American looking neighbor had taken out a row of cars on the block after he had made it to the block, despite being drunk. Now had he simply found a space in front of his house and or parked in the drive way, the mayhem could have possibly been avoided.

Yet, somehow he must have secretly heard my wish to stay in doors because he passed his house and made a U-turn and lost control of his car and ran into, my opposite neighbors car, my car and his own second car. After he had hit our cars, he got out of the BMW he was driving and tried to move his other car but instead of putting the car in drive, he put it in reverse and rolled his back-end on top of the car parked behind his.

My neighbors and I laughed all day as the tow trucks arrived and the day unfolded, everything worked itself out and despite the chaos I had a great relaxing Sunday.

 

Home Depot-a remedy for self soothing Part 2

 

 

Man in fur cap in wild terrain --- Image by © Arman Zhenikeyev/Corbis

So off I go to Home Depot feeling like a superhero. I make my way to the paint department and I am greeted by two millennials, nope that’s not correct. More like,  I stroll up on a young man and a young woman leaning against merchandise having a conversation and as the young woman looks over her shoulder she notices me and the young man follows her eyes to see what has caught her attention. Do you think she greeted me once we made eye contact?

On the contrary, the young lioness looks at me in total disgust as the young lions’ eyes begin to light up because  I had on a black t-shirt that was pretty see through and the juicy breasts that I grew naturally after breastfeeding my son became a distraction to their conversation, which caused her to roll her eyes and suck her teeth at me, she abruptly ended the conversation with a , ” Bye, Tyrone!” (I’m sure his name was something else but I forgot to read his name tag, so let’s just call him Tyrone) as if they were on a date instead of being at work. I shook my head thinking, “Baby girl why you at work acting all desperate and thirsty?

Hell, she might have thought I was thirsty- seeing as my breasts were spilling out of the t-shirt I had on and while I am no spring chicken I am still in child-birthing age. Although, I would not want to get pregnant at this age for fear that the child would have three eyeballs considering a woman’s eggs are old at age 27 and the kid would have to feed itself knowing full well I would be to dam tired to have a baby. More importantly, when you get a certain age, your body temperature increases and you’ve got to have at least one of your body parts getting some air at all times to prevent heat exhaustion. So until they invent air-conditioned bras and panties-I’m gon have my tities out!

Back to the story……..I tell the sales guy what I am looking for and I find a pack of what Martin had described only it had been opened and was missing pieces and they weren’t any other in stock. Now I spent way more time then I needed to in Home Depot asking questions, getting the wrong answers and subsequently buying the wrong merchandise.However, I did not know this until I returned home.

Once I got home, Martin informed me I had bought the wrong thing, Ugh and loud grunts came from my mouth because I had to return to the store and I became even more irritated because I had to stop by the gas station because I was on E, just to get back to Home Depot safely.

On my way back, I roll up my least favorite Shell Gas station, I hate Shell gas cause it burns too fast. As I exit my car, I noticed an attractive but frumpy dressed Latino lady standing at the door to the entrance of the mini mart where you go in to pay for gas and snacks. She says to me, “They not open but she in there!” I’m like, ” whose in there?”

So I go over to the outside pay window and lo and behold there is robust black woman, hovered over a desk top calculator but before I noticed the calculator, I ask her, ” Have you been robbed? Is that why the doors are locked?” She says, “Un Un, aint nobody here but me and I got to do the register so I’m not giving out gas until someone else comes in at 6pm!” So I’m like, Uhm, you’re preventing yourself from being robbed!”

As I walk away from the window, I yell to the air, ” I hate the ghetto!”  I reprimand myself for being to dam lazy to get gas earlier. I get gas and I return to Home Depot only to have forgotten my wallet in the car after I reached the customer service counter to return the wrong merchandise and get my money back to buy the correct items so Martin could finally start the job.

I go out to my car to get my wallet containing the receipt and as I lock my doors, two Latinos ladies look incredulous as our eyes meet as we watch a white Van speeding out of the parking lot with the back doors open. I yell to get the drivers attention but he keeps speeding out the parking lot as if he had just taken a pee infested with gonorrhea hurrying to the doctor.

Buckets of newly purchased white paint were spilled all over the parking lot and as I watched the Van hit all the speed bumps without slowing down, I laughed so hard I almost peed on myself thinking, ” It sucks to be him and just wait until he gets where ever he is going and finds out all the shit he bought aint in the back of the van!” I also said a prayer hoping no one got hurt just in case more things started falling out the van.

When I got home, my family member told Martin, Oh boy, I know she down at Home Depot with her toe tapping with her hands on her hips because we didn’t listen. It seems I tap my toe and put my hands on my hip as I talk to soothe myself and prevent myself from turning into a dragon and leveling the city. Little did they know my irritation had dissipated once I got to the Shell Gas station and once I told them what happened in the Home Depot parking lot and after getting home and watching them do the reenactment of my toe tap we all fell out laughing!

Becoming a witness and or acting as a spectator in your own life is a great way to disengage from having negative emotional responses to undesired events and or bullshit that happens in your life.

 

 

Home Depot-A remedy for self-soothing?

 

1979, Los Angeles, California, USA --- Joanne Siegel, the inspiration for comic book character Lois Lane with her husband Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster. Siegel and Shuster were the creators of Superman. --- Image by © Steve Schapiro/Corbis

After 2 weeks of what can only be labeled a freakish nightmare and real live horror movie – we decided to make some changes in our home. A decision was made to paint the bedrooms, new furniture was coming once a week and I’m certain the neighbors must have assumed we’d hit it big, nope, there was a catalyst for change and they shall remain nameless.

Martin the painter provided a list of things for one of my family members to get. Needless, to say I noticed some very important items missing and I took a mental note. Now I’ve learned my lesson so when I start to see the picture unfolding, I start to ask questions because blurting out the entire scenario creates much too much opposition and by asking questions I soothe myself and it prepares me for the unwanted and unneeded adventure that is going to ensue because people refuse to heed the warnings and or directions. I’m reminded, as my Baba so eloquently puts it, ” Seems I just aint happy unless my balls is in a vice grip!” It appears everyone loves their genitalia in a vice grip……

Mind you, Martin was a no show the first week he was set to start the job. The night before Martin finally shows up my family member says, ” Martin is coming tomorrow, will you be home to let him in?” I responded, ” Sure, but is there anything we need to do, move some furniture, do we need to protect the new furniture we bought, it seems like he needs some participation from us?” My family member responds, ” He is a professional, blah, blah, blah!” (Seems I hit a nerve)  My response was, ” So you don’t want to give him a call to be certain?” Again my loved one responded, ” He’s a professional, I shouldn’t have to tell him what to do!” I said, “Ok!….knowing full well what was up ahead but I kept it to myself.

Martin decided to sashay his ass in, you guessed it, professionally unprepared! He begins by looking around the rooms and  starts to move light weight furniture. Martin walks like that dance move John Travolta does in Dance Fever when he circles his hands around each other except he moves much slower. I ask him, ” Do we need to move the furniture?” He says,  “Yes, I’ve got to move the furniture from the walls?”

In my mind, I’m like you don’t say and how do you think we are going to do this because I know you don’t think I’m going to be Sheera and move these heavy big ass beds and you aint got no young and virile back ya dam self, Martin. As, I’m in my head, he starts describing something that helps you move furniture with ease. So I say, ” Where you git them out?” He says, ” Home Depot.”  In my head,  I say to him you mean the same Home Depot we got the rest of the shit from. In my head I hear my Yeye say, ” Niggas and flies!”

So off, I go to Home Depot just in time for everybodyandtheymama to just be getting off work and do you think Oh, Marty Mar showed up with something to cover and protect the furniture…..I’m gon let you answer that. I’ve decided to be a witness, a slightly irritated  witness cause you caint tell people shit but my goal is to learn to be an amused witness like Ms. Celia in the movie the Color Purple when Mr. takes to the kitchen and tries to cook a meal for Shug Avery. I need to learn how to sit with my hands rested on my high cheek bones with a big Oh grin on my face as I wait for the explosion and for shit to hit the fan or the wall.

To be continued………………..

In the whelm of hungry ghosts?

 

I used to be afraid to talk about my life experiences, especially my experiences with the supernatural and the spirit whelm. Yet I know that it help save my life, that it grounded me as death and violence surrounded me. It did not help soothe or ease the pain from the loss I felt and there are days when I miss the children from my youth, I miss all the lives lost in the so-called war on drugs and gang violence.

I feel their spirits and they constantly nag me to tell their stories, they want to be remembered and as much as I want to forget I cannot. I wish I could pretend that it was all a bad dream. So to hear about the new dead of suburban white America from the heroin related deaths, it becomes clear that we were INVISIBLE and because folks did not get up close and personal-viewing wild fires from a distance-ignited from perceived rage never acknowledging loss gave way to  feelings of being safe and or protected or could it have been that “Oh not me, not us” kind of mindset that plagues the superior minded.

Nevertheless, it has visited us all and the dead will continue to speaks until we listen!

 

 

The dead have ears

Man Afraid of His Shadow

 

I have to disagree with the Old Heads when they say, why should we be discussing black on black crime, when white on white crime is not addressed and I have to give them the side eye. Talk about double the amount of post traumatic stress I suffer from caused by the terrorism of the streets from boys in the hood fighting over gang turf and the terrorism from law  enforcement.

I think it’s a convenient way for them to take no responsibility or accountability for a generation of children who were used to fight and fund a war and then turn  a blind eye and literally threw us under the bus with their throw your hands up approach which systematically spear headed legislation that yielded the largest profits from the smallest segments of population all because they didn’t know what to do with us.

Talk about juju and hoodoo, has anyone made the connection of today protesters parading around with their hands up and how this continual ritual is connected  to the many West African Civil Wars- that got us all here on a slave ship.

And as I think about this I am reminded of the day I stood huddled in a crooked circle with my male cousins and their friends and I heard, “One Time!” All the males scattered like roaches and I stood there in awe and confusion as to why they started running for their lives and as I stood there dazed and confused. I heard Derrick yelling, “Girl you better come on!” And I started running not because I was running from the police, I was running as to not to get left.

It wasn’t until, we all made it to safety and through heavy breathing I asked, ” why were we running when we were not doing anything wrong” and that is when I learned you didn’t have to be doing anything wrong, the rule was when you saw the police, you ran for fear that you might lose your life. One Time had dual meaning, it identified the police and that you had one time to get away.

With this back drop in mind, it is a known fact the United States government flooded the urban impacted states and cities across America with crack cocaine to fund an illegal war, yet the urban soldiers received no metals of honor, they received stiff jail sentences for participating in a plan without knowing their real roles and positions, with the key player Freeway Rick an literate genius as the master business man-turned Government Scapegoat and now we got fat as Rick Ross out here making millions off the identity of a black male who was the only one who served time from the original key players but folks don’t care about that cause Rick Ross got lyrics.

So it makes since that the Old Heads do not want to discuss what has yet to be labeled correctly. The Crack Wars and Epidemic was an Urban Civil War as brutal and deadly as Beirut and or the war in El Salvador. And so today and everyday as more black men die at the hands of law enforcement, I see visions of dead bodies falling to the ground, one vision of a white man holding a gun shooting a black man and another vision of a black man holding a gun shooting a black man.

With these visions in mind, I wonder, how the white people all over the states feel about the epidemic of heroine that is currently ruining white families  and communities and how the new segment of white soccer moms who are now entering the prison industry complex and did white folks feel the pain from all the ghosts of my youth lingering about the city and have today’s black men forgot about the code of, One Time.

I stand corrected, One Time was also a silent agreement between the police that it was a chance for you to get away, today if you run they will just shoot your ass in the back and you wonder why there are weed stores on every corner and soccer moms are addicted to Oxycotin & Heroine -how the fuck can anyone stay sane in a country where its citizens refuses to understand the same shit that effects you…. effects me….. ain’t nobody getting away with shit…… why ya bullshitin!

We all suffering!

that right there

Personification of Japan

Might point exactly check out what Jim Brown has to say about Personal Accountability  on the Zo What Morning Show. I found what he had to say-after the introduction and statement of- Tim Wise- profound because he has had a history of wrapping knuckles around womens’ foreheads! Will Ray Rice be so profound in his AARP ages????

What do you think about what Tim Wise perspectives? Leave a comment!

Same shit different day

Syringe injecting globe

When we returned to Los Angeles from Oyotunji, I felt as if I were in the Twilight Zone, the atmosphere was chaotic, confusing, dead, and on edge. The consciousness of so many people I encountered was unnerving, the pessimism, the bleak attitude, the confusion of identity left me scratching my head and eventually I stopped speaking of what I knew. The one thing that angers me and still angers me to this day, is the collective consciousness that it is ok to suffer and wait because one day we will be rescued.

This idea that someone else is going to come and do the work for you. I watched an entire generation of urban black youth be thrown to the wolves or the proverbial throwing your hands up, “we don’t know what to do with these boys”  so many of my friends died and the ones who lived -as early as 12 years old began the cycle of going to prison, this was the result of throwing your hands up.

Each day, I wonder about all the boys and girls we lost due to negligence because the generation before us had abandoned us in exchange for what I am not sure. For those of us that survived the bloody and violent times of the Crack Era, we are truly miracles, we found a way to live and cope, however most if not all of us never express or talk about the trauma imposed on us due to neglect by our own community members.

That being said, here me clearly, ain’t nobody coming to save you, and ain’t nobody gone think more of you than you think of your dawn self. You are your own salvation, and the same Universal God that created the Sun, the Moon, and the Stars created you. So when I start to feel less than for any reason, I remind myself, “that no man makes the Sun come up!” Thank God because if man could, his ornery ass would have all of us sitting in the dark from ego tripping.

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