Category "Good Enough"

Where ever 3 or more agree

 

 

Ok I have received some comments in the comments section that I want to address in a post because I want to recognize the folks who have taken the time to leave a comment. Now since one of the commentators name was Shit I looked at the name sideways yet I knew that I needed to give them credit and respect since there is a real live person on reality t.v that goes by the name of Oh Shit! That being said, let’s do the run down.

 

  • I received a comment about the titles of my posts and I could be wrong in my understanding of the commentary but I was encouraged to come up with “better titles” and I’m paraphrasing the commentator. That being said, there is a method to why I choose titles. However I am interested,  based on the content of my posts as to what the commentator or any other viewer would have titled the posts. Click here to leave advice What do you think?

 

  • Another commentator asked for advice on setting up a blog, hear me clearly, after attempting to get help from a so-called professionals and other so-called tech people who refused to help me- I cancelled Bluehost and used Go Daddy instead as a host, again I could have the terminology wrong but I digress. In the end , I just sat down and jumped in the water without fear of not knowing how to swim and I googled WordPress and have just done everything by feel as far as the tech side is concerned.

 

  • A reader asked for contact information to offer more resources and opportunities. And then there are what look like  Spammers who leave comments, never the less, I read their comments even if they are trying to sell me Viagra or services to help me increase my traffic.

So on behalf of any and all that take the time to comment I appreciate you for reading my posts and visiting my site. On behalf of those who read my blog and don’t comment I appreciate you as well. At the same time I am thinking of ways to expand my site to offer more. Again I thank you all for taking the time out of your busy schedules to read my posts because you could be doing other things.

And most importantly no matter how many challenges, struggles, pain, or ups and downs life gives you- always remember, ” You wasn’t born on a bad day!” and ” Nobody Does You Better Than You!” Get started on whatever you dream or want to do, refuse to wait for perfection, the perfect time, your perfect weight, your perfect mate, your perfect creation…… put it out there on the strength that it’s Good Enough and you can add improvements later!

Sweet surrender

Woman with spider on her face

 

unruly

en’ roole

adjective

disorderly and disruptive and not amenable to discipline or control-Oxford University Press

I am a two time beauty school drop out. Each time I attempted to finish both

programs, life got in the way. Despite, never finishing, I learned a lot about hair

care from my grandmother and my hair stylist Marni. The shampoos,

conditioners, and styling products Marni used on my hair were all labeled

“Unruly”. I delighted in knowing my hair had been categorized in such a way.

Probably because I had been labeled uncontrollable so much of my life. When I

think of the words such as controllable, unruly, wild, untamed, I can’t help but

picture Elizabeth Taylor being thrown across the shoulder’s of a  barnacle burly

man in Taming of the Shrew, after one of her bursts of fierce resistance.

Watching Elizabeth Taylor run wild was a sign that I did not have to behave, or

be prim and proper to get a man!

Resisting my hair was futile, often times it has been like a chia pet gone wild!

Once I accepted all aspects of myself -being unruly I felt like a kid that takes over a classroom-Powerful and Pretty!

And as you grow older and wiser there is nothing more sexy than a man who stands in his masculinity and tames you without violence

or aggression. There is nothing better than when a man invokes you into sweet surrender!

What do you think about Pretty? Leave a comment below.

 

20 visits to good enough

 

A few weeks ago my father and I got into a less intense argument than we usually do. He was complaining and talking badly about my youngest brother. He and my youngest brother had been estranged for a year and my brother had recently come to see my Baba and around about on their 2nd interaction- my father brought up the very thing that had kept him away.

I tried to listen, however, as he continued I could started to feel things in my body, the more he talked the more agitated I was becoming. I tried to tell him I already knew the story-I did my best to deflect the topic of my brother but my father can be like a bull in a china store. And so I asked my Baba or rather told my father that if he knew who my brother was and respected him he would know not to even have certain expectations of him. I reminded my father that my brother did not like Conflict, never has never will!

I told my father that since we were little children he could not take yelling, that Yee could yell and scream at her middle Oshun child and I her eldest all day and it didn’t bother us because we thought it was funny, so my Yeye stopped yelling at him because he could not take it, it vexed his spirit. I asked my father to recall my brothers’ absence at a family meeting we all were supposed to have  had a month earlier because my father has cancer. Needless to say, my youngest brother did not show up. I said, ” I wasn’t surprised that he didn’t show up. I knew he wasn’t going to show up because he doesn’t like conflict and there was a high percentage that things could escalate in deep emotions causing an uproar.”

My Baba responded, ” Do you like conflict?” I replied, ” I don’t have a problem with Conflict, especially if it leads to resolution!” At that point, I had told my father at least 3 times talking about my brother was making me feel bad. I told him I had come over to spend time with him because I had not seen much of him since I had returned from New York a few months ago when he went into surgery to have the cancer removed without even calling to tell me. He said, ” You were on vacation, why would I disturb your vacation?” ” I didn’t want you to know.” I was like…… Really nigga?- in my mind. My feelings were hurt but he had been selfish my entire life so him having cancer wasn’t changing that.

After telling the few women who had attempted to love him throughout the years not to come see him after the surgery before we started arguing about my brother he gave some soliloquy about these two women not being there for him, claiming that if they loved him they would have been there regardless. I said, ” Let me be clear, you told them don’t come and now your disappointed they didn’t come yet you expected them to come?” He started making up excuses for them as to all the things that could have kept them away and I interrupted him and said, ” You push people away and then you want them to be close only to push them away again. Who has time to be on those roller coasters and on those merry go rounds?”-

And so the conversation segwayed into him bashing my brother and as usual I had enough. I said, ” I ve told you at least 2 to 3 times that this conversation was not pleasurable and yet you continue. I came to visit you and spend time with you. I brought  you a delicious piece of pie and instead of you enjoying my company you want to sit and talk about my brother who happens to be a man any father would be proud of.” I went on to say, ” Even if the things you say about my brother are true why couldn’t you wait until you had 20 visits with him before you brought up the very thing that caused the 2 of you to be estranged. ” Why can’t you just enjoy the company of your children. Why dam near every time we see you must you tell us everything that is wrong with us. Why must we hear you didn’t cross your T’s and dot all of your I’s. Why must you tell me and my brother in some kind of fashion that “we ain’t shit…..we not good enough?????

He responded, ” I love your brother!” I replied, ” You do not love my brother in the way he needs to be loved!” I went on to say when I called the meeting the other month I wanted to see who would be ” Willing and Open” to have the conversation-I didn’t have any expectations beyond that. What I wanted was to be heard and supported and so I appreciated the fact that my other brother planned the meeting and the 2 of you showed up. I accepted that my youngest brother wasn’t coming because I know and accept who he is and in no way did it mean that he didn’t care. I told my Baba I didn’t call to talk badly to him for not showing up because I know he can’t handle conflict.

At some point in the conversation, I had made a negative comment about my mother’s behavior and he looked at me with disapproving eyes and I refused to back down because her negative behavior had done damage to me and it wasn’t blasphemy  for me to express my hurt about her behavior. And he responded, ” I love with conditions! My love comes with conditions!” In my head I was like no shit Sherlock and then out loud I said, ” It’s about time you said that!” He responded, ” My mama loved me with Conditions! And I said, ” That’s why you don’t know how to love nobody because you were loved with conditions! Parents love should be unconditional! Thanks for finally saying what I needed to hear!”

The conversation went a little less south than it can go because my Baba out of habit likes to throw gasoline on a fire, me being the fire and then gets surprised when he gets hurt. I didn’t turn into a raging inferno. Instead the room got hot like a hot summer day and eventually I walked out the house saying some more things under my breath. That conversation was transforming and created a shift because my father had never really allowed him self to be that open and say out loud that he had not been loved by his mother in the way that he needed to be loved and therefore he struggled to love people. I told my father that he was good at giving us tangible things to show his love however he couldn’t give the intangibles to show his love and the intangibles are the most important in loving relationships. It had never occurred to him that we just wanted him to enjoy us, to celebrate us on the small the and the big things that no matter how old we got we were his children and we each needed to be loved in our own way.

I needed to know that I was enough……….

Hot glue and pussycats

Last night- me, Lisa and Francey were laid out on the floor laughing hysterically as we looked at the new men’s  fashion in swim wear and it appears as if they are channeling strippers and if I see any man I know out in public or private wearing them, he’s never going to live it down.

As our laughter turned into high pitches like sirens Lisa took it further by showing us pictures of blinged out vaginas. Claiming it is the newest hot trend in waxing. I spilled the glass of sparkling wine I was holding on the floor, trying to comprehend what Lisa was saying. ” I’m like wait… after they rip all the hairs off your vagina they do an arts & crafts project on your vagina? Do hot glue, rhinestones and your vagina go together?” Now we’re all screaming as I tried to wipe the wine off the floor.

Do you guys remember when Paris Hilton, Nicole Richie-one of them got mad at Lindsay Lohan one night in a drunken stooper, Nicole or Paris I can’t remember which one- was screaming, ” Crotch Fire!” over and over again at Lindsay. I can’t help but believe that ” Crotch Fire!” will be the new term for whatever bad reaction this trend is bound to cause. And does this service come with one of those please consult your doctor/your OBGYN before beginning services?

Group thinking is so dangerous! Waxing your eyebrows is painful enough, now I’m suppose to endure the pain of trying to send my vagina back to its prepubescent years. Some like to think of our pubic hairs like blankets that keep you warm cuz it gets cold down there when your bald! And others rave about the Co-jack look and experience waxing provides.

To each-is own-you love it-I like it but I cannot get over the feelings of feeling violated when I get a pap smear. When I think back on my pregnancy with my son with my legs in the stirrups during a prenatal check-up with Dr. Cox skinin and grinnin as he looks up and says, ” Do you know you have the vagina of a 19 year old?” I went home crying to my husband.

So could I- no would I- sit still for a color me mine vaginal experience-I’m going to have to say-No! But if you’re wild and brave enough to bling your pussy out like a 64 on datins, then I must say you’ve got chutzpah!

 

 

 

 

If you don’t like- you who will?

My girlfriend Nicole called me about a week ago explaining that she had been verbally and spiritually attacked by her choir members.  She was blindsided by the words, ” You got a spirit on you-you think you something!”, from leader of the let me bring you down a peg or two chorus line. Nicole hadn’t realized she had entered the lions den in a pair of hot sauced draws!

As Nicole talked I interrupted her with and asked her, ” Are we having a discussion about the mental illness disguised as projections that I have coined- “she thank she cute!”-with women who are 30 and over?”  “Yes, girl!”, replied Nicole. I wanted to escape this conversation, so my mind drifted off and I saw myself coming out of the communication’s department standing outside the lobby talking to smug ass Professor B, who seemed all too delighted about my frustration in trying to grasp the APA writing style and format.

Professor B tried to make me feel inferior and as I struggled to regain my resolve, I noticed bright brilliant red cloth flowing like the bright fabrics in the field of flowers at the end of the Color Purple movie when Nettie comes home. My eyes followed, the bright red fabric and enclosed in it -was a tall, slender, curvy, lady-the color of coffee after you pour a dab of half & half in it. She looked like she was going to the Oscars-that’s just how glamorous and flowing the dress was.

I stared at her -even harder, and I noticed she had deliberately dressed down her gown with a stone washed denim jacket that stopped above her waist and as my eyes traveled down to her feet, in that instance, I looked into Professor B’s eyes and found the power to kick him in his teeth. ” So what you’re trying to say, is that the APA format does not care about what you think about a subject and it does not necessarily have to be true the only thing that is important is that it has to be verified by other people?.”

Professor B’s eyes started following mine and although I was talking to him, I kept my eyes on Mocha Late Going to the Oscars. I followed up with, ” Let me get this straight- don’t nobody want to hear what I think, it’s all about what somebody else thank?” Professor B cringed as he held his invisible pearls as I code switched on him and started using African- American Language. ” So if I say the sky is purple, I just have to git 10 other people to say the sky is purple, so basically I’m gettin so-called experts to validate and verify bullshit! Why you didn’t just say that from the git-go-APA is really about doing research?”

And with a swift kick in the ass from the energy I harnessed from the combat boots Mocha Late was wearing Professor B and the APA format were never a problem after that. Who would ever wear a dress, fancy enough for the Oscars, dressed down with a denim jacket with real untied combat boots? Trina, that’s who, Mocha Late and I eventually became friends and I learned that she had served in the Navy for over 15 years at the time and was returning to college after joining the reserves.

Once we became friends I asked her why she dared  wear combat boots with such a formal gown and she said, ” You always have to stay ready!” A girl after my own heart, anybody who knows me-knows my -philosophy is ” You always got to keep your boots on!” Thinking about those boots on Trina’s feet made me wonder why Nicole hadn’t kicked the leader in her teeth with her own personal testimony of the so-called spirit on her.

Did you tell that silly bitch that the spirit on you is called, ” I like myself! That my voice is different and strong that I walk like I got gold, diamonds and honey dripping from my feet despite the fact that I done ben through so much shit I should be dead!” Did you tell her that Nicole?

I would have told that bitch in the sanctuary-I walk like I’m being loved by a man, who dicks me down with long strokes, who can stand up in it and make me release and explode with europhia from his Dick Healings that leaves me in an after glow as if I were the North Star- while you hold your pussy every night witch yo ignant ass!

Nicole fell out in laughing. Did you tell her you instantly dropped more than 20 pounds when you got rid of that RatBastard camouflaging  as your husband who yielded the power of a wizard with the ability to unwittingly  to turn a Dime Piece into a Mud Duck and how your sexy sensuous self returned with youthful bounces to your steps, with the rhythmic flow from your wise hips that rock babies to sleep once you declared you would never go within yourself and disappear to please others!

Speaking of wise hips, my Yeye used  to read me Nikki Giovanni’s poems and Antoinette who you would over look any other time would mesmerize you and you would become awestruck from the Beauty she possessed as if she were a Goddess come to life when she performed and embodied my favorite poem by Nikki Giovanni Ego Trippin. Boys who normally ignored and dismissed Antoinette became intrigued with her-she had womanly beauty in her teens and power and she wheeled it with perfection. Bravo Antoinette. I wonder where Antoinette is today and if she knows that she was one of my earliest teachers on how we all have our own unique gifts and beauty.

And as much as I love Ego-Trippin, I love the memories Stetsasonic’s song Sally created when Ife said, it reminded her of me.

 

How to find role models

Woman Wearing Headscarf

 

Yesterday I was on a conference call listening to the world première female thought and spiritual expert and  activist Marianne Williamson and she was discussing that in the conscious community there is a prevailing thought that there are no role models and she refuted that. She also went on discuss how she was going to start implementing workshops on Aphrodite and I became intrigued as to if she knew about Oshun.

I keep abreast about topics, current events, and activities taking place in the feminist environment and the one thing I have noticed regardless of race, is  what I can only describe as a is a kind of blocked view as to what is right in front of a significant amount of those who label themselves feminist.

When I look to role models I first look to the women from my lineage and ancestry as my guide in feminine power. I learn their stores and history, I take away what fits to empower my life and give reverence and honor even to the negative parts of their lives and story.

So many times my father has told the story of both my grandmothers’ sexual and feminine power from a negative point of view as a cautionary tell to dilute my own feminine power. From all accounts these women, my grandmothers were able to bring men to their knees. My Baba spoke of one of my grandmothers Ex husband’s literally hanging and holding unto her ankles, laying on the floor sobbing as she tried to leave him.

I marvel at my great-grandmother Mildred whose presence was as big as a giant although she was a petite woman who owned and operated a hotel. An intimidated look from Mildred gave way to misperceiving the totality of who she was. Although Mildred was stoic and stern she was a great lover as evidence of her basement that was filled with romance novels.

I come from bold, dynamic, wild, fearless, business minded, sexy, powerful, loving, will whip your ass if necessary, community focused women who may not have had big voices nor did they brag about what they did, they were just about the business of leaving a legacy that provided templates and blue prints as a guide for me so that whenever I get lost I will find my way back home.

Look to your own lineage and culture as points of guidance, support and direction and you will never be without refuge or a role model.

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.

 

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 would Jesus do?

Ancestors' Altar. Mahayana Buddhist Temple.

I wasn’t raised Christian so when I turned 17, my mother started trying to make us go to church, of course my brothers and I thought she had lost her mind, hell she even made us get baptized, not the kind when they dunk you in a lake or a pool of water, the sprinkle kind.

Given my mother’s circumstances, she had lost her mind, we will discuss that at another time,  we were mostly sleeping in church- bored as hell and as time went on, my brothers’ and I began to find some solace in going to church once we found out the Pastor was a cuss in Minister.

Oh, yes, Reverend Murray, cussed people out on a regular and this delighted me and my brothers-who knew? Holy and cussing went hand in hand, even in the pulpit, he would be cussing folks out under his breath. It was refreshing, a man of the cloth, knew that, sometimes you caint get people to do shit or cooperate unless you get loud, start cussing and get ignorant.

Now don’t get me wrong, the man, had power and influence in the community, he was brilliant and smart-like Jesus, he was not to holy to get grime sometimes. According to the good book, Jesus liked to hang out with the undesirables and was an outlaw-sounds way more interesting than the rigid, stale, version of Jesus- you get today and we won’t even talk about get down wit the get down Moses!

But I digress, what was even more tantalizing was the fact that his wife was not the usual suspect of a first lady, on the contrary, Oh, I heard whispers about her and was delightfully surprised when we finally met and she looked like she had just step out of a grunge country garden magazine-she was tall and beautiful, yet she tried to hide her beauty behind a pair of over-all’s.

Yes, the first lady was in over-all’s  during church services, while 98% of the women were dressed to the nines-if my assumptions are correct trying to get the Pastors or some other man in the church with a powerful positions attention to get what I like to call a “Dick Healing!” And guess what she had a mouth like a sailor, a I don’t give a fuck attitude, and a yea so I’m his wife and he’s the pastor but he’s still a man attitude, along with I’m not trying to impress nobody….shiit -I’m the prize. Talk about a walking contradiction of your typical first lady-yet I loved her and thought she was Regal because she really liked herself.

You heard me, I said, “Dick Healing”, not that I ever heard Pastor Murray being accused of any  “Dick Healing”, however, we’ve all heard of all the scandals about Ministers, Priests, Reverend, Babalawos, and other men in spiritual leadership who have used their power and penis’ on their followers. I am always on the look out for someone trying to perform one on me and let’s not even discuss the other types of scoundrels-who are looking for the next prey offering a “Dick Healing!”

Anyway, where was I, Oh, yes-Pastor Murray was lucky to have a wife, who defined herself by her own terms. My Yeye eventually gave up on making us go to church because we were only going for the best fried chicken you ever tasted and for a glimpse of the rebel rouser behavior depicted by Jesus in the bible.

Tell your own story, leave a comment.