Nature is the New “Church”

Since living in New York, I have come across many different spiritual ideologies. Some of them I’ve sought out, some of them have found me. I have explored everything from Christianity (which is the religion I grew up in) to Gnostic Christianity, to Nation of Islam to Orthodox Islam, to Atheism to Buddhism, from New Ageism to Kemeticism, even looking up the virtues of Satanism and Black Magick.

It’s funny, I believe everything, every event, every thought, every whim has a spiritual root or is somehow divine, and so I have to say that even me arriving to live in NYC was a sort of divine synchronicity. I went to school here for one year and studied Theater, or at least, that was my major (I didn’t study much theater, I was too busy experiencing my life as one big performance). Then at the end of the school year I realized that I didn’t do anything during the year to secure my stay in the city. But boy, did I want to stay. I made friends that I didn’t wanna lose contact with, and I was building my dreams in the best place in the world. I tried to get a job at a restaurant as a hostess, and I totally blew the interview: I went out the night before and didn’t arrive until about an hour after it was supposed to start. It didn’t matter much though, an older guy who I was talking to at the time reassured me that he had made many mistakes as a younger man, I was only 18, and he told me if I really wanted to be here, I could still make it happen. I ended up going home anyway, because my parents couldn’t afford any summer classes, and I had a great aunt who wouldn’t let me stay with her either. Strangely enough (and this is why I stress patience and allowing in my life more than ever), God had a plan for me. All I could think about was living in New York permanently (although now I know nothing is permanent in this life) and soon I got my chance to see if I could really survive here on my own.

One day I went to a party with my sister, and a girl started to talk to me. I exchanged numbers with her, (even though I wasn’t into women at the time and I STILL am not into masculine women today) and over the next few days proceeded to talk her ear off on the phone. Somehow, my sister ended up talking to her. It just made more sense. One day, on the way to the girl’s house to hang out, my sister and I got into a car accident, in which someone rear ended her. We settled and our award was $1300. We split the money and went to a little physical therapy at a chiropractor’s office 3 times a week for the whiplash. It took a while for us to get our money, and in the meantime, I began talking on the phone with a guy who I went to college with. We always meant to hang out while we were in school but we never did. We talked for hours on the phone several times a week, and he told me a lot about his tumultuous childhood. He had been abandoned as a young boy in Nigeria, blah blah blah. He hated his Mom and believed all women who cheat should die. He called his last female roommate many names and labeled her a crackhead. He even called me one night to confess to me that he had thrown her up against the wall. When I was less than supportive, not judgmental but not particularly understanding why he would call me, he got upset and hung up on me. All red flags, I know now, but back then, nothing would stop me from living my dream. He and the girl were on bad terms, she moved out, they had a sexual relationship, me and him were more like brother and sister. I took my half of the settlement money, $650, and moved in the 2 bedroom apt with him. I moved out by the end of the month, but the events that transpired there is another story. (I’m writing a book.)

It’s the best decision I’ve ever made. During my pee break just now, I realized that I didn’t become a woman until about the age of 27 (now). I know that it’s a gradual process, and there are several epiphanies along the way to becoming a full blown woman or man or transgender person. But I really had been thinking like a girl even up until a few months ago. Over the years I have been initiated into new information that has helped me open my eyes in so many ways and has helped me see that I have so much power and responsibility over creating my life. They say a man defines his growth by his work life, and a woman defines the different periods in her life by the relationships she has. In my evolution, I have found this to be true. The most important relationship through all of this has been the one with myself, and I’ve been working on the one with God. (Is there a difference? Hmmmm…)

When I prayed about moving back to NYC, I made a deal with God. I promised that I would go to church if “he” could make this move happen. For about 8 years I didn’t step foot inside of one. I joined one in 2010 and I go a few times a year, when I get inspired. But lately, as a result of me seeking the truth about life and love, and following the path beaten centuries ago, I came across some rituals and ceremonies that totally align with where I’m at right now, to integrate my spirit self with my human, and to be more connected to the Earth. This is what led me to write this on the night of the last eclipse. Nature and I are really getting cozy.

I have realized my church now is nature. I was determined to see this eclipse tonight, but where I live you can’t see any stars, nor the moon. So I proceeded to go to the river. This is what I felt; my interpretation. I feel the need to make that very clear disclaimer, even though I shouldn’t have to.

At first I looked for the moon and it wasn’t there so I just walked and prayed to the water, thanking her, thanking God, acknowledging that it’s all one, and I got into that space. I was full of gratitude. After I prayed I kind of went into a trance for a minute and felt a strong pressure in my third eye. I didn’t quite leave my body or anything, but I felt more aware after that.

Then I felt led to go to the place where I buried my list of 10 things I wanted to manifest in the ground. I prayed that it would grow like a tree as I laid hands over it and spoke my intentions into it. I went to the trees and I acknowledged their beauty and all they give and the fact that they are living creatures. They DO have feelings and they CAN communicate with us. They feel nurturing to us, in a service kind of way, kind of like maternal. Trees, plants shrubs are very feminine creatures. They said they do not feel pain like we do, yet when someone scratches their name into them, they take it as a loss. They see us as children who do not know what to do with them, or do not know how smart they are. They said they are rarely violent, but do we think they don’t fall on houses on purpose during hurricanes? Hmmm (smile). They also have different “personalities.” I feel like different shrubs and trees’ temperaments match how they look. They also expressed to me that they like for us to touch them, caress them, just like a pet, but not peel their bark haphazardly and break branches as such. If we are using their wood or other parts for use, it’s not like they’re like “Yay!” but they see it as a sacrifice for the common good. Like I said, trees are very maternal in that way.

So that’s what I came away with. And I felt so connected with nature after that. Nature is my new “church.”

P.S.: Long ago when I considered getting inked, I thought of getting “nature girl” tatooed on my ass, with a nude picture of me laying in grass or something. It’s still an option.

Tags: church, nature, religion, seeking, spirituality, trees, womanhood

Join the 40/40 Club

…Maybe 40 is a good number for me. I always thought that would be an age where I would really buckle down and focus on my music. I felt that by then I would be fully in my womanhood, settled in my career, maybe be divorced, have a kid who adored me, and be fiercely independent.

This week I attended two events that were 40th Anniversaries. One was the Harlem Junior Tennis and Education Program‘s 40th Anniversary-Celebrity Pro-Am and Dinner Gala. It was held at the USTA Billie Jean King National Tennis Center in Flushing Meadows, New York. It was a pretty snazzy venue as dazzling faces of all shades filled the room. Katrina Adams, Executive Director of HJTEP is beautiful, down to earth, and about the mission of the organization. She inspired this young Black Female to be as dedicated to my purpose as she is to bringing tennis to youth from inner-city neighborhoods while offering them opportunities for education and self growth. Some of the youth stood at the podium to receive recognition and give honor to various leadership in the organization, one of which is my best friend, Mekellah Matthias, who is the Executive Assistant at HJTEP, who is set to be the next generation of leadership at the program. Everyone glowed with satisfaction as the night went on, and as the tables were cleared, a glass of champagne was toasted as the stress of the weeks leading up to the event was finally released. If you know anything about non-profit,  you know that the staff of HJTEP had to do a ton of work to make this happen even with hired help. The funds raised that evening will go on to support such bright and dynamic young people such as Vashni Belleste, now an alum, who will be attending college in New Orleans in the fall. To all of the staff at HJTEP I say “Job well done, now let’s pop champagne.”

The second  event I attended I literally had to drag myself to, but I’m so glad I did. I was invited to sing at The 40th Annual Spring Poetry Festival at City College held by  the University’s Poetry Outreach Center. I was sick as a dog that morning, but was able to visualize doing one of my favorite things (performing) in the Great Hall that evening. It worked. Writer, professor and Director of Poetry Outreach Pam Laskin, whom I met through JP Howard, founder of the Woman Writers in Bloom Poetry Salon (WWBPS), invited me to sing at this event after she heard me sing at WWBPS’s anniversary (but it was only their first!). I gladly accepted but had no idea I’d be sick that day. Still I arrived.  They honored Barry Wellenstein, who founded the Poetry Outreach Center which services public school children and the writing community as a whole. The Great Hall, where the event was held, was mighty and massive in its architecture. The acoustics make you sound like you’re in a cathedral in the late 18th century. I was called up by Pam to sing my one or two songs a capella, and I was seemingly shy, because I was confident in my skills yet nervous because I was so congested. I sang a snippet of a standard, “Body and Soul” and then an original, “You Told Me You Loved Me” and then it was over. The gracious audience continued to thank me the whole evening, and I felt  my sense of gratitude  for sharing my gift grow.  (And a sense of missed opportunity, because so many great people, so little energy and so little cards! Oh how I need a business card. That’s gotta be on my to-do list before 40!) The conn
ections you can make through people are amazing. I met JP Howard through a long time friend of mine, Akinfe Fatou, who’s new book of poetry Swoon is out now. The Universe is something, ain’t it?

So, there you have it. Two 40th’s in one week and here I am. I survived. I’m intuiting that the events of this week are only going to mirror, in a grander way, what’s in store for me when I get to 40. I hope you’ll stay along for the journey.

Vulnerability=Love-Ability=Being Loveable Pt. 2

It’s OK to cry. Trust me.

What’s my love-ability quotient? Can this be quantified? Can you really measure how well someone can love?

I’m a fan of tooting my own horn and saying how good my lovin is, in more ways than one. But what does this really mean?

I think your capacity to love is somewhat influenced by your ability to be vulnerable, and let all of the layers of guilt, doubt, ego, and shame fall away.

I’ve experienced the truth of this throughout the past couple of months when I proclaimed that I wanted to find true love, or better yet, allow it come to me.

I’m very big on the law of attraction, and it seems that everyone is these days. I think it makes sense that in order for you to find someone real, and connect with them through the layers of their personality and ego to get to the core of them, the Love, you would have to relate to them in a way that is totally authentic. A concept called Progressive Love created by the founders of Jujumama, LLC has been helping me through this process in the past month or so.

The Universe keeps bringing things and people to me who are helping me to fulfill my deepest desires. I’m learning secrets to things that I felt somewhere in my spirit, but I just couldn’t put a name to. I, being in my left brain alot, need to assign names to things and have things make sense in a scientific way, appreciate the language and culture that Jujumama is creating around this topic of “open relating”, which, throughout my life I have been simply calling “Just keepin it real.”

It hurts and it’s scary as hell to be open. But I’ve gotten only good results. I feel that most people are craving for the people in their lives to CONFESS that they love them, miss them, need them, want them around, are sad when they go, feel afraid of losing them, think they aren’t good enough, are carrying pain around from the past that causes them to fuck everything up in the here and now…people want to hear this because it allows them to now be open as well. Creating a safe space for communicating your true fears and desires while not blaming, is something I have learned is so necessary if you want to build a strong foundation for a relationship.

I’ve never been this way before. Remember when I stopped blogging for a few months? If you read my last post you’ll see why. I met someone who is exactly who I need to learn how to be open and just real. He’s wonderful, honest, and supportive. And guess what? We’ve “broken up.” But guess what else? Our “relationship” or simply “how we are with each other” has been more satisfying than when we were “together.” (I’m putting quotes around all of these terms and phrases because I’m asking myself what do they really mean?)

I still want him. I’m going to love him as long as I need to for me to learn the lesson I need from him. I still want to know he’s OK, and I’ll always want him to be  happy, even if it’s NOT with me. I’ve heard that if you love someone you have to let them go. But I have a spin on that: If you love someone you have to let yourself go. Meaning let go of all of those layers of: expectations of how a perfect relationship is supposed to be, (which then puts pressure on yourself and the person you’re relating to), shame about your past, guilt about how you’ve hurt others, doubts about whether or not you’re good enough, and finally fear that nothing is going to work out for your good. Expecting the worst is like a vicious cycle, and we can break it by embodying the type of brokenness that is born of vulnerability.

While I’d like to think that I’m perfect, I know I have a sludge of stuff I need to work through, but I’m meeting people who bring this out of me. I’m grateful for it. I’d say if you could measure my ability to Love right now, it’d be pretty high on the scale. I’m finally getting it: Your life is a reflection of what you expect it to be, and who you love is a reflection of you. If you want someone to drop all facades and be real and from the heart, you’ve got to start with number one.

See the first part of this article here…

You Are Really Effed Up…

…But you’re perfect.

I apologize for not writing for a while. I think I was really caught up in something that we Earthlings like to call…a relationship.

It sounds about as extra-terrestrial as a spaceship now, and to be honest with you, I can’t wait to put all my thoughts down for the day and really sleep so I can float away from this Earth, well at least in my mind. But for now…

Here I am because I think I need to get some things out of my brain and onto this screen. In the past few months I have been dealing with a man whom I felt was perfect for me in every way. In many ways he exhibited the traits that I had always thought I wanted in a man: he was chocolatey, somewhat tall, strong-willed, neat, had honorable goals, a sense of humor, was very affectionate (or I guess just touchy feely), and was open minded when it came to certain sex acts. He could hold his own in a conversation and didn’t activate my rebellious side. (Although I’d have loved to have been spanked more often, but I digress).

I’ve read a lot of books in my day. Many of them have been about relationships. I think this is because in these books I have been trying to find some golden nugget of information that was going to make me understand myself and therefore my relationships much better. All they did was recondition the old conditioning, and lately I have been seeing the fruits of my mental and intentional labor…the relationship ended, he says it’s because he’s not ready, but I say it’s because I always felt it would end anyway because it went against the way I had been conditioned that stable and long lasting relationships start out.

I guess for me to believe that a man will respect you, he has to court you. Spend time, money, sweat, and tears just to get you to agree to spend time with him. Now I admit: When I met this guy, I really didn’t think much of him or the role he might play in my life. I even remember a moment on our first date (which I asked HIM to come to hang out with ME because I had an extra ticket, which breaks a lot of dating expert’s rules, haha) where I looked at him and thought “there’s NO WAY I’m gonna be involved with this guy. I mean, LOOK at him” And lo and behold, here I am, a few months later, and he’s saying HE’S not ready to be with ME. (I know now NEVER  to say never, when it comes to your so called fast held “principles.” Life will ALWAYS come back and bite you in the ass!  Not that NOT being with him was a matter of principle. It’s just that I had never been with a man as animalistic and challenging as him. He had this jungle Mandingo quality, straight out of the Motherland…yet he was wordly and refined and sweet and endearing at the same time. But I really had a moment where I looked at him and said, “No.”) I say all that to say that deep down inside I felt it would collapse from the inside out because we jumped into things way too fast, and I was available way too much.

Even though I wanted to be exclusive so that I could have (guilt-free) sex. I wanted to be “committed” (and we never really discussed what the hell that even meant to each of us) before I had sex. I also knew that at the time, there was no other man I wanted to be with. I couldn’t even see other men, I only had eyes for him.

I learned a lot in the past few months. I tried to take this whirlwind that we were involved in all with a grain of salt but it got so heavy so quickly. It literally felt like an avalanche that I believe we BOTH tried to stop in the beginning, but our feelings just keep rolling on. I remember him STRESSING patience, but then the next time we’d see each other, he was saying he was in love with me. It’s so funny. He seemed so gentle back then, and sweet. I know he still is, he has a good heart, but I’ve seen a darker, meaner, colder side to him since then, and surprisingly it didn’t totally turn me off. Yes, this is the twist. He’s still perfect to me. And so am I. I’ve found myself telling him I’m not perfect. But that’s not true. I’m me, now, and that’s all I can be up to this point. What I have to work with is the future. Because what I’ve realized is: the really EFFED up parts of all of us are still worthy of love.

This blog is about a woman on a quest for love. I thought that I might eventually find it in one person I would meet on a fateful day in September, or something out of a love song like that. But as I progress, I’m realizing that all of these people are here to teach me a lesson about ME! And what’s even more scary and more beautiful, is that they’re all taking me on a journey right back to myself, and that’s exactly where love is. LOVE isn’t out there somewhere…it’s inside.

Let me publish this before I lose my nerve…

Your Imagination Is Your Worst Enemy

When driving and in relationships, your imagination can sometimes be your worst enemy.

You’re not helping anyone by thinking up bad shit that hasn’t happened, or re-living travesties of the past. This is something that I’m learning with the person I’m currently seeing. It’s funny, because I thought I was past all that negative thinking and doubt, because I who knows that I deserve all things good, would never sabotage a great (sexy, amazing) experience by negative thinking. But it creeps up and rears it’s ugly head when you least expect it.

Unfortunately, the person can end up thinking that it’s about them, but you know that’s not true. Anytime something pops up in your head, and you end up bringing up something not quite desirable that was not incited by any external experience in the relationship, it totally comes from you. And that can lead to a little nasty thing called .projection. It goes something like this

 

You: “Babe, are you having doubts about us?”

Them: “No, where is this coming from?”

You: “Well, I was watching that episode of The Game and-”

Them: “Well that’s not us. Listen, I know I’m not giving you a reason to think that I feel any differently about you. Do you trust me?”

The problem is that you don’t trust the situation or yourself enough to let go, and just Love freely. Allow yourself to feel that good and TRUST that this person is who they say they are! Believe in your choices…you made them for a reason.

Not only that, the best way to soothe your fears and insecurities is to just know that, like a good friend told me, “you deserve too good to be true.”

And it is so.

Oh, Whitney

A still from the "My Love is Your Love" video

Sorry I took so long to jump on the bandwagon and write about one of my childhood/teenage musical idols. I just needed time, guys. This one, like the death of Michael, really felt like a sort of personal loss, and I was pissed off at how these people are going to be remembered going out, like some druggie, as if the vulture-like industry didn’t have anything to do with their deaths.

Even now, as I look at Whitney Houston videos, I realize that my favorite songs were the ones that weren’t the ones that I feel everyone went crazy about, at least they weren’t the ones that necessarily made her anymore famous, like “My Love is Your Love” (if you listen to the words, you will understand the kind of love that I’m striving for in my life) and “Why Does It Hurt So Bad” (because damnit! It really fucking does.)

But… I also see ads for movies played before the video, just like any other YouTube clip, and I think about how sick it is that so many people will profit from the loss of this great human being. I believe she was great just because she was sincere, not because she could sing. She was “stank” as we call it in my social circle, and that’s a compliment: it’s an inner strength combined with a little soul, and a knowing that you won’t take shit off of anybody, at least not for long.

I even have had to stop several times while writing this and just sob, not just shed a few tears, but one of those heaving cries that comes from your gut. Whitney even said in her song “My Love is Your Love,” If I should die this very day, don’t cry/cause on Earth we wasn’t meant to stay. Wow, the implications of that lyric are more important now than ever. And it’s strange that, dealing with some things in my own life, everyday feels like a kind of Judgement Day for me. So I listen to that song over and over again just feeling like she’s talking to me.

A recurrent theme over the last few days for me has been “gifts,” probably because Whitney had such a great one and literally sacrificed her life to share it with the world. I thank her for that, because I just wanted to be able to sing a little bit, just an ounce of how she was able to, and I could tell it came so effortlessly to her. Anyone who sings, or admires a person because of their talent that they too possess can probably relate. We want to hone our skill to the point where we make it look easy. It was scary how good she was though. It gave me chills.

Really, I think she was simply a vessel for God to work through, and what’s better, she sang about Love. As Generation X and Y, through her music we learned about what Romantic Love felt like before we had experienced it, and we knew God had to be the most generous God, because look what gifted souls he had blessed us with?

I’m not here to idolize this woman, but how do you express such pain about the loss of someone whom you’ve never met? How do you do that without adding to the pressure that is part of what made them break? Is this just a trick of the media? Why does it hurt so bad?

I don’t have any answers. I just know that it does hurt. And years after we lost Michael, I STILL get pissed off at all the drama and controversy of how he died, I still have Michael music video marathons, and think about what could have been. But then, selfish as I can be, I’m also grateful that I even got to experience him through his music, and that gorgeous smile.

Whitney also had a breathtaking, perfect smile…

Husbands and Wives

“Husband.” “Wife.” Those words just sound so big, don’t they? They just seem to carry so much weight with them.

Recent experiences (one bad date, one great date, and two engagements of people close to me) cause me to think even deeper than before about what the words “husband,” “wife,” “love,” and “marriage” really mean.

I know that in the past, marriages were arranged and were seen as business transactions, and still many are today. (I know I wouldn’t marry anyone who’s broke.) I don’t see anything wrong with marrying for security. But when did marriage turn into being about something that I have been on a quest for since I realized that I was oh so deserving (or at least since I started this blog): Love?

As I was sitting and having dinner with a friend, I began to muse about being one of those beautiful women who was torn between marrying a man for security and being with the true love of her life. Oh, the drama! I pictured myself being meek and mild with the man who did nothing for me between my legs, but who was all right on paper, while he fell deeper and deeper in love with me. And then, running and telling the other one who made me misty in all the right places that all I could do is think of him while I was pretending to listen to my husband who I’m not in love with at dinner. How sneaky. How sexy! How freaky would that be! I even imagined telling the true love that “we could leave today!” Planning my escape love affair with a man who didn’t exist, cheating on a man who I wasn’t even married to!

Just goes to show you that a girl like me has a LOT going in her mind, and needs an outlet for it, and sometimes that causes me to live vicariously through myself. If that’s possible. This fantasy scenario begs the question: Could I marry for anything other than true, drive-you-crazy-to-the-point-of-dancing-in-the-street love? And, if I could, could I be happy? Or would I always long for that man who made me laugh, made me believe that settling for less is like settling for loss, loss of the true essence and purpose of life: A soul connection like no other with another human being…

Women are so powerful now, on paper, making paper. We really don’t need a man to do for us, and we can even do what we love and get paid. At the tender age of 27, I see no reason to lose hope now. I can have it all. And I will. Trust me, when I fall in love, you’ll know. And I don’t know what the future holds, but I’m putting my attention towards things that make me happy. I’ve seen too many people in my life marry their soulmates, and others who made due because it was quite convenient at the time. My resolve is as hard as steel, and I’ll be damned if I settle. But at the same time being alone can be a bitch. Still I can’t help but think I that if I did break down one day, and marry someone I only liked, simply because HE loved ME, and he had money and was nice, blah blah blah…I know I would always have in the back of mind: Is there something better out there for me? Freedom…and TRUE LOVE?

 

 

Tags: helese, husband, love, marriage, settling for less, soul mates, talks, true love, wife

Vulnerability=Love-Ability=Being Loveable Pt. 1 (Vulnerability)

What do Meryl Streep, Margaret Thatcher, Michelle Williams, and Marilyn Monroe all have in common?

They’re all power hungry baaddd bitches that inspired me to really open up my heart and pour every good and bad thing that was in it out. Well actually, since this blog is a real chronicle of my life, this post is just a continuation of the one of my previous posts, so I can’t give them all the credit. To add to that, in the past few weeks, I had some people, I guess I could call them friends, open up to me and kind of melt away that scar tissue that had formed on my soul from all that I had been through in the past, and the expectations that set me up for so much more dissapointment. So I definitely have them to thank as well.

In the past 2 years I have learned a lot about people being your mirror, attracting every situation that comes into my life, and how to get more of what I want out of life. I also revisited some old Rules in order to insure that I would weed out anyone who wasn’t absolutely serious about having a real relationship with me; real love.

Well you know what? FUCK the Rules!

Someone like me who is already hard to please, very traditional, and hard on the outside at times (but soft in the middle I assure you) doesn’t need The Rules! What I needed is this book, a book that really tells you how to let your ego go, and I always always must give props to my YouTube gurus out there, namely Abraham-Hicks. Even though my spiritual foundation started in Christianity, the teachings of Jesus, and the wisdom of the Bible, I, like the Universe, am always expanding.

Now I can honestly say that I have used the truths that I’ve learned from friends, admirers, and former friends with no benefits, wisdom seekers, Facebookers, my sisters, and my parents (who’ve been married for over 30 years and are still so cute together) to confront myself and realized that I was being my own worst enemy when it came to the thing I wanted most: Love.

All of the women  in my real life and the women who starred in two particular movies are now special to me (well, Marilyn Monroe has been special to me ever since high school, watching E! True Hollywood Story and I’ve channeling a bit of her and Dorothy Dandridge every once in  a while, ever since.) because in Meryl Streep’s performance in The Iron Lady, her portrayal of Margeret Thatcher in her prime was moving, fiery, and made me want to run the world. Michelle Williams in My Week with Marilyn was all consuming and all to true to all I had previously thought I knew about the superstar, and both actresses were heartbreaking. What made it so was their vulnerabilty, as actresses and that carried over into the characters they played. They gave it all up because they had nothing to lose, and it made you want to love them. (More so with Marilyn because she’s hot, but watching Meryl Streep looking that age did make me want to call my grandmother.)

Tonight was just broken hearts all over the place. After seeing these two movies (of course I “snuck in” to watch the 2nd one) I walked into the men’s bathroom like it meant nothing, and then I went to a bar, had a glass of plum wine and cried my eyes out. But I also reached out. I called someone whom I hadn’t been very nice to recently and told them they could call me any tiime if they needed to talk. They were going through a rough time, so they were very appreciative. So was I. Just to know that I could be there for someone and refrain from making it about me, that felt good. But if doing good didn’t feel good, none of us would do it, so we’re all just selfish bastards anyway, or at least we should be. But I digress. I also gave it all up, broke every rule in the book, and I called my ex…

And it was the best rule I ever broke in my life, because I got to express myself, and hear several words of love that I had not heard in years. It felt good to be cared about, to be told I’ll always have a place in someone’s heart. Besides, years ago I bought a pin that had a quote “Well behaved women rarely make history.” Apparently it was the words of the late Marilyn Monroe. And I don’t just want to make history, in my little world, I already have.

From my Facebook Album "Sometimes Pain Can Be Beautiful."

Stay tuned for Part 2…(Working on the Love-Ability part LOL…)

Tags: abraham hicks, love, margaret thatcher, meryl streep, opening up, own worst enemy, relationships, vulnerability

Dark Girls- A Film Review

As I sat in the legendary Apollo Theatre, which I had just performed at in September, I knew that I was experiencing an event that was truly epic. As the beginning credits of the premiering film began to roll, the song playing in the background made my heart smile because the singer spoke true words about black women: there aren’t many songs written about our beauty.

I wanted to hear something positive. I didn’t know what I was in for. I wanted something that would make me feel warm inside. I expected the unexpected from the movie Dark Girls. But then in one swoop I was disappointed. I heard the words “enslavement” and talk of trauma passed down to us through our cells, post traumatic stress disorder and such, and I took out my pen and made a note to myself, “Got-damnit!” When are we gonna stop talking about this same bull-”

…I guess I became like a lot of white people in that way, I was just sick of hearing Black people talk about the history and presence of racism and it’s very real affects on Black people’s lives in general, and Black women’s in particular, self image. I wanted to hear something I hadn’t heard. And I didn’t wanna hear about me being oppressed. I’m living my dream right now. I’m in my bubble. Ain’t nothin’ oppressing me.

I guess it’s because when I first became “conscious” as a Black woman, meaning I studied some of the history of my people, (some hidden, some public) I really came into my own. It started when my sister gave me her copy of The Auto Biography of Malcolm X. I indulged myself in so called self-righteousness. I read Roots, I hated white people for a while, and I was a Black supremacist for a while. I think that’s what can happen when a person is well read on a certain topic. They get “over-zealous.” Instead of letting the highs and lows of life (which is a really good teacher), sound wisdom passed down through generations, and a really good book that has been banned from the library (just to spice it up for good measure) teach them some universal truths, we tend to get one-sided with the information that we obtain. So at that point in my life I was pretty unbalanced.

When I really started to be real with myself, my life began to open up in new ways.

I felt a knot in my stomach, like I was leading a double life, when I said that white people were the devil. I knew it wasn’t true. I knew it couldn’t be that simple, because if it were there’d be no need for me to continue living, because they simply cannot be escaped. And neither can my skin. One time on Facebook I posted “sometimes I wish I could forget my skin.” Not because I felt less than beautiful. It was because identifying with it too much made me feel less than spiritual. And in a way, less than connected to other humans. Less alive.

Basically, I didn’t wanna be sad for the rest of my life because I have melanin. In fact, it’s a reason to praise God.

I still remember riding in my Mom’s red station wagon pretending my skin was lighter and that I had long brown curly hair, and that my sister was light skinned too. But by the time I was in 5th grade, my sister told me I needed to get more Black friends, “dress Black” and start reading about my culture. I still love her for that, because it was important for me to interact with other children who were experiencing some of the same things that I would. It was just good to have one more thing in common with them.

Honestly, I don’t live inside a white supremacist framework anymore. That framework can only exist in your experience if it exists in your mind. I never said I was color blind. It’s not that I don’t see the difference in race in the wider context, but when dealing with individuals, I must feel their vibe first. (I’m sooo New Age in that way.)

So, I actually thought I had this whole movie Dark Girls wrapped up. But about 20 minutes into the movie, I realized I was wrong. That’s when I put my pen down and stopped writing. I realized that on this road of colorism there were some twists and turns I hadn’t yet seen, and I wanted to take my shades off and really take it all in.

What I realized about colorism, is that when you look at it through the many lenses that the movie does, you see that the rabbit hole goes as deep as one can imagine. I felt literal visceral responses to what was being said, good and bad. It would have been ideal if I could have paused the movie and had discussion upon discussion about almost every scene. Some of it made me angry, but maybe not for the reasons that one may think. Others just made me, more importantly, want to ask more questions to everyone around me, including the people in the film. The filmmakers, the characters in the film, and the person sitting behind me. This film will make you want to TALK. I have to give it to Bill and Chann (the co-directors/producers of the film), they threw me for a loop. Talking heads and oft reused b-roll can be powerful if the words spoken are from the heart. The real stories and accounts from real women who had once lived their life in skin that made them feel less than enough took me for a ride. But who knew the journey would be so rich, nuanced, so bumpy, disgusting, sad, disheartening, riveting, exciting, and beautiful? It made me feel a little guilty for not going out of my way to support more media that focuses solely on this issue…but then, I had to not beat up on myself for being where I am in my life.

There was once a time where if it wasn’t Black media, I wasn’t buying it. And I criticized and nitpicked every mainstream piece of media I saw. I thought my world was going crazy, my friends were watching Friends DVD’s and not bothered by the fact that there was only one Black woman in the whole series, when the show is set in New York City, the melting pot of the world. But now I’m just into what makes me laugh. And now that I’ve truly accepted the fact that regardless of all the scientifically proven superiority of melanin versus lack of melanin, spiritually, we all have a chance to live our dreams. Dark Girls burst my bubble. But tonight, as I close my laptop, I will go back into it, my crazy world in my head, where everyone forgets their skin, and doesn’t see a Dark Girl, they just see me.

Tags: african american, black, black woman, colorism, dark girls movie, dark skin, documentary, film review, helese talks, independent, race relations

Stuff Single Girls DON’T Say

1. “I talk a good game but deep down inside I’m full of insecurities about why I’m single.”

If I’m real with myself I can say that I have a load of reasons why I’m single. It’s true! I know that on the outside, I’m stunning. I know that I’ve got a great personality, and quirks that are endearing. But I also know that I have a dark side. A side to me that can be very cold and cruel. I can be extremely nurturing, sexy, giving, emotive, give you best meal and p****y that you ever had in one night and look good doing it. And I can even make your parents think I’m a good girl even with this filthy mouth, lol. (Mine always fall for it.) But somehow I feel that that’s not good enough. Because if I really sat down and told you the string of bad luck (or bad choices, as an enlightened person would say) I’ve had with relationships, you would wonder, maybe as much as I do, what is wrong with this picture?

Wait. I’ll tell you what’s wrong. Firstly I’m not clear on how I wanna do this post. Should I actually list what single girls are really feeling but are afraid to admit? Or should I just write? All I know is that I wanna come from the heart on this one. But then, when do I ever not?

This weekend has been enormous in terms of friendships and confessions. I felt the need to kick someone out of my life, because they just didn’t get that I don’t trust them after what they pulled here. We just didn’t share the same values when it comes to courtesy, respect, and common sense. They kept persisting and grew irate when I wanted to put boundaries on the friendship so finally I just blocked his number.

Then, I reconnected with a friend who actually told me that for years he had a strong sexual attraction to me, and said that’s why he DIDN’T really want to come over, chill alone, etc. Even though he could have totally taken advantage of the situation, even could have led me on if he wanted to he chose to exercise some self control. I used to have a huge crush on him a few years ago, so that coupled with my recent desire to have intimacy, fall in love, and be all cuddly, and just plain horniness, I would have been easily led I’m sure. I respected the fact that he didn’t see an opportunity for sex and just jump on it. That to me is a trait of a responsible human, a real man. In addition to that, the fact that he told me  that when he didn’t have to  is the character of a real friend.

It made me raise the bar, and that’s when I told my other “friend” who was so selfish that he couldn’t see past the tip of his d***, to kick rocks.

I had another situation where I got a text saying “Are we friends?” from someone who just a few weeks ago I invited to happy hour and he all he responded was “Nah I got plans.” He’s usually not that short. I brushed it off though.

He continued, “If we’re friends I need to be real with you.”

Wow. This type of thing seemed to be happening all too frequently in the past few days.

He confessed, “You hurt my feelings and now I don’t even know what to say to you.”

I'm hard on the outside but soft in the center.

I don’t know what it was but I think I’ve learned to not try to figure out things over a text message, and just wait until they can explain it fully over the phone or in person. I repeat: never try to “text” an important conversation. When we got a chance to speak I realized that there were things that I had done that were probably a result of some way deeper issues that I had with this person, and with myself.

And it let me to blog this right now, because I think I was still hurt by the bittersweet words this person said to me after I inquired about the “definition” of our relationship. (We had sex a few times, expressed our feelings, you get the picture.)

His words, “I’m not ready for a relationship right now, but if I were, you’d be someone that I’d want to be with.”

Through drunken tears I silently made the decision that any affection I had given him, friendly or more than friendly, had to end immediately. I swore I wasn’t gonna make the mistake again of giving it up with no guarantees.

I definitely did again. But then you read my blog so you know that.

The point, is hurt people hurt people. Sometimes without even realizing it. And I can’t tell you how happy, touched, and even honored I was that this man would confess to me that something I did hurt his feelings. I didn’t have to chase him down, I didn’t have to wait 3 months of just not hearing from him, like I have to do with even some of my girlfriends (see my last post Dumping Friends.) True, I didn’t know there was a problem, and he didn’t have to tell me, and so I commend that. Besides, it shows that he cares, and I’ve made that mistake before of cutting people off without telling them why. It sucked when they pointedly told me me how immature that was. I make it a point not to do it again, I still slip sometimes, but I’m gettin’ better at being open and honest. And my testimony to all this?

I have only ever gotten the BEST results when I’ve kept it 100% real. Vulnerabilities and all.

This is what this single girl never says, and that’s this: I’m scared. I’m scared that I’ll be alone for a really long time. I’m a little bit nervous that someone won’t recognize all of the wonderful things that my friends see in me; that I recognize in myself. I sometimes think that I’ll end up rich, fabulous, and alone, still not having had any children at  33 (when I planned to be knocked up by 29) and continuing to make all the same mistakes that I thought I learned from in my 20′s. You know, sometimes I only want my ex back not just because he was a great guy, but because maybe he was the only one who was foolish enough to love me. I know that when we broke up he said “Maybe you’ll find someone better than me,” while I cried 2 feet away from him, but sometimes I wonder if that’s even possible. And what I’m really scared of is that what I’ve convinced myself of is really the truth, is that whenever a man tells me something from his heart, he’s angling for something. And when a guys says he’s not ready to be with me, it means that no one will ever be.

Sigh. So that’s it.

You know, as I type this, an episode of Girlfriends is on where Ellis tells Joan “You’re so afraid of not having what Toni has (a wedding, husband) that you’re sabotaging us.”  I can’t totally relate to Joan. I know I’ll have a “happy ending” I’m just trying to figure out how the beginning and middle is gonna work out.

Funny how the Universe will bring us confirmation in the weirdest of ways.

So as of today, no more fear about the future. And no more thinking that when a guy stands me up, that it’s about me. No seriously, all that New Age crap about everything in your life is a reflection of you doesn’t necessarily mean that I deserve that shit. As they say in Singlegirldom, “His loss. Next!“