I need to simmer for a bit.
Yes...this blog is all about my reactions to message boards. It seems no matter where I go, a battle ensues. This would not surprise my father, the master baiter, I mean Debater. He raised me to keep that 3 year old nagging "Yes, but why" in the back of my head and my mother's assertiveness pushed me forward to verbalize it.
Tonight, I watched a woman fight off attackers as she defended her right to be child free. She has a link in her signature to her blog and it contains detailed and truth be told, quite exciting and enticing tales of her sexual conquests. Hell, I wanted to know more. I'm no hater. Giggles.
Well, her sexual nature was used against her and turned the argument on it's head. It became a bash of "No, you shouldn't have kids because all you want is good sex". Wow, now good sex is a crime. So this means...what...they defend bad sex? HELLO? What's the point? If you're going to shave your legs, make it worth it.
I actually bought a book this week from Amazon called 5 minutes to O. I have many reasons for buying it but mostly because I always want to know if I'm missing something. I know how to get there in 45 seconds with a set of AA batteries but it gets complicated with dishes to do, work demands, fussing with your spouse, reading bedtime stories and by then, you're just ready to crash...so 5 minutes sounded right up my alley time wise.
I read 65 pages in about 30 minutes. Could have had 6 orgasms instead I guess, but hey, I took one for the team, figuring I would spread the good word later. So, after coming back to the board war, I asked a simple question..."Is sex meant solely for procreation? If so, WTF is the clitoris for?" I can't wait to hear the bash on me for the gall to ask such a thing. I mean...a woman actually being assertive about her body parts...crazy isn't it? CLaiming them? Making them work? Not only that but not holding a man responsible for something in her control....yep, bound to be convo.
Just for chuckles, I mentioned Constantine and all the other Guys that played a role in the Bible and how they had so much to gain by keeping a woman's sexuality as a possession and making it so "dirty" that even she wouldn't want to go near it. I challenged them. Dig deep fellas. The clitoris has ONE purpose. ONE. The Bible skipped it. The Fem. mystique grazed it. Many a hand has discovered it. Women WILL figure it out some day. It's OURS damnit. But anyway...I'm going to add this to the blog entries I will come back for. I'm too tired to delve into this and make any sense tonight. MEds, gotta love them.
Sunday, January 21, 2007
And just who are you anyway?
Why do people bother to ask? Thousands of years and gazillions of theories and people still wake up daily and don'thave a clue who they are. We go along with these mirrors. Mirrors held by other people. We casually walk by and glance and along the way, each mirror holder shouts out their answer to the question, not about themselves, but about us and along the path, we come up with an answer and damnit not even an original one. It's someone else's answer. We are who other people believe we are.
Sometimes we are the voices in our head that take issue with their declarations of our personage, but usually, we just kinda roll with it. This week, I'm letting everyone take their shot at me. Tell me who you think I am. Not that I'm going to believe you....because I happen to believe myself above the norm. I define myself by my roles and my "feelings" about my dedication to my roles.
A poster on a board asked us all to rate our devotion to country, ethnicity and gender. This was on the African American board, of course...because ethnicity would have been replaced with political affiliation on the OTHER board I belong to.
I responded that I am an African American woman. Period, end of story. The HORROR! You see, on that board, I cannot win. There I face the never ending battle with Muslim men...African American Muslim men that prefer to be called AfriKAN and think that I have been brainwashed by "White, lesbian, feminists" into all of my thought patterns. They believe my soul so far gone that it cannot be saved and pretend they WOULD have thrown me a life preserver had I not married a White man 12 years ago.
They think that because I relax my hair, I'm embracing White culture and Eurocentric beauty ideals. They believe because I champion a day when we can all live together that I have forgotten my history. Well, I wrote the wiki page on my ancestors...see Shankleville, Texas. I have research my family history for 15 years and I can trace my roots TO a slave ship and an African woman. A nameless African woman. For her, I will NEVER allow my identity to be anything that denies her. In me, there will always be "African woman".
I happen to be a American. Oprah loves to say how blessed we are to have been born in America, but damn, there are chains of bondage everywhere O. The ones here are just easily recognizable and we have a fighting chance to remove them. BUT, I'm grateful that no one has mutilated my genitalia. I'm grateful that the Taliban couldn't prevent me from getting an education. Albeit one I dropped out of and thus regret and will forever question my ability to complete a sentence. Damn..that's why I have a memoir sitting here collecting dust. Just don't trust a college drop out to succeed. So yeah, I'm been brain washed but the fems didn't do that to me.
They lied to me too. Told me I could have it all. A career, a good marriage, solid and healthy kids...but they didn't tell me that something has to give. WHat gave was my health. 2 rare diseases that get to eat me alive. I'm 36 and I have to write my own obit. But you know what, they held up the mirrors and they made statements as I walked by and I bought into it. I bought into all those mirrors.
I wanted the one that said "You are enough. You are more than enough and you are capable and worthy." That's it. But I got college job fair day with an exhibit every two feet and someone shouting roles at me with all the frenzy of those nut jobs that work the floor of the stock exchange. "You're Black, You're white, You're BI-racial, You're multi-ethnic, You're a negro ( gotta love Louisiana birth certificates), you're a woman, you're JUST a woman, you're not woman enough, you're a mother, you're a shitty mother, you're disabled, you're diseased and dying, you're a web designer, no a writer, no, a virtual assistant, no..better yet, you're a possession...you're a wife."
Maybe if I strip myself of all attachments, the labels will fade and then I'll find out who I am anyway. That would be a very long week at the Hotel Sofitel, but gosh, I could do it. I do love room service and the soap.
I'm rambling, so my apologies. I spent the night in the hospital because of the fluid around my brain. It kinda took over last night and no amount of my Fibromyalgia meds would touch the pain from the IIH. Orphan diseases they call them. I call them sheer hell. They have turned me into someone that I wasn't before. They have changed my identity. Suddenly, and not so sudden, I have to add "Disabled and losing the battle from invisible diseases" to my list of identities.
I would give just about anything to go back to that 19 year old whatever I was, that hung out with Prince every night and had no identity. At some point, who you are just becomes too much. Bad day!
Sometimes we are the voices in our head that take issue with their declarations of our personage, but usually, we just kinda roll with it. This week, I'm letting everyone take their shot at me. Tell me who you think I am. Not that I'm going to believe you....because I happen to believe myself above the norm. I define myself by my roles and my "feelings" about my dedication to my roles.
A poster on a board asked us all to rate our devotion to country, ethnicity and gender. This was on the African American board, of course...because ethnicity would have been replaced with political affiliation on the OTHER board I belong to.
I responded that I am an African American woman. Period, end of story. The HORROR! You see, on that board, I cannot win. There I face the never ending battle with Muslim men...African American Muslim men that prefer to be called AfriKAN and think that I have been brainwashed by "White, lesbian, feminists" into all of my thought patterns. They believe my soul so far gone that it cannot be saved and pretend they WOULD have thrown me a life preserver had I not married a White man 12 years ago.
They think that because I relax my hair, I'm embracing White culture and Eurocentric beauty ideals. They believe because I champion a day when we can all live together that I have forgotten my history. Well, I wrote the wiki page on my ancestors...see Shankleville, Texas. I have research my family history for 15 years and I can trace my roots TO a slave ship and an African woman. A nameless African woman. For her, I will NEVER allow my identity to be anything that denies her. In me, there will always be "African woman".
I happen to be a American. Oprah loves to say how blessed we are to have been born in America, but damn, there are chains of bondage everywhere O. The ones here are just easily recognizable and we have a fighting chance to remove them. BUT, I'm grateful that no one has mutilated my genitalia. I'm grateful that the Taliban couldn't prevent me from getting an education. Albeit one I dropped out of and thus regret and will forever question my ability to complete a sentence. Damn..that's why I have a memoir sitting here collecting dust. Just don't trust a college drop out to succeed. So yeah, I'm been brain washed but the fems didn't do that to me.
They lied to me too. Told me I could have it all. A career, a good marriage, solid and healthy kids...but they didn't tell me that something has to give. WHat gave was my health. 2 rare diseases that get to eat me alive. I'm 36 and I have to write my own obit. But you know what, they held up the mirrors and they made statements as I walked by and I bought into it. I bought into all those mirrors.
I wanted the one that said "You are enough. You are more than enough and you are capable and worthy." That's it. But I got college job fair day with an exhibit every two feet and someone shouting roles at me with all the frenzy of those nut jobs that work the floor of the stock exchange. "You're Black, You're white, You're BI-racial, You're multi-ethnic, You're a negro ( gotta love Louisiana birth certificates), you're a woman, you're JUST a woman, you're not woman enough, you're a mother, you're a shitty mother, you're disabled, you're diseased and dying, you're a web designer, no a writer, no, a virtual assistant, no..better yet, you're a possession...you're a wife."
Maybe if I strip myself of all attachments, the labels will fade and then I'll find out who I am anyway. That would be a very long week at the Hotel Sofitel, but gosh, I could do it. I do love room service and the soap.
I'm rambling, so my apologies. I spent the night in the hospital because of the fluid around my brain. It kinda took over last night and no amount of my Fibromyalgia meds would touch the pain from the IIH. Orphan diseases they call them. I call them sheer hell. They have turned me into someone that I wasn't before. They have changed my identity. Suddenly, and not so sudden, I have to add "Disabled and losing the battle from invisible diseases" to my list of identities.
I would give just about anything to go back to that 19 year old whatever I was, that hung out with Prince every night and had no identity. At some point, who you are just becomes too much. Bad day!
Thursday, January 18, 2007
Who is dating whom?
Ok, I'll be honest...I'm not sure which word should be "whom" and I really don't care. I write. That's what I do. An editor can correct the mistakes. I'm not an editor. Deal!
Lately, the subject of who is dating whom has been all a buzz around me. Whispers of this brother dating that sister or dating that woman who is definitely NOT a sista. Then the, 'How do you feel about Black men that date (fill in the blank)' type questions on message boards. Well, my answer is the same for all the questions; I don't give a flying fig.
It's not that I don't care because I'm spoken for and I mean quite spoken for and albeit by someone that many wouldn't consider a brotha and not their brotha no how( unless the Black community has suddenly decided to invite Lithanian/Mayflower descendants into the fold--oh dear, was that swine by my 2nd floor window?), but more simply because it doesn't involve me. It doesn't touch me.
It a Black man wants to date a White woman or a Latina, then I wish them well. I'm not threatened by it, nor am I upset with him or do I think he stepped outside the bounds of decency. He did what is well within his right to do; he dated the person he felt so inclined to date. Good...because I use my options too.
People will say that dating interracially 'doesn't do it for them'...great, then don't do it. Some will even go so far as to say how disgusted they are by the opposite gender of another ethnicity, calling them ugly, insulting their scent and then even more will bring up our history of oppression and question the logic of dating specifically black/white interracially as a slap in our ancestors faces.
Problem for them is that they don't know my ancestors. I happen to know many of mine. I happen to know how their lives were affected by interracial dating and marriage and I know also that many rebuked the status quo and went with their heart, at very high prices to their lives. I know the biggest slap in their face would be for me to be complacent, shiftless, ambitionless, devoid of morals and values and to let my circumstance define me. I know that they would appreciate the woman I have grown to be and I know they would be proud of me and my accomplishments. I know they would look into my bi-racial children's eyes and see their own facial features reflected back in two children with lighter complexions, but that are confident in their Blackness and at their young ages, able to stand up, say that and be proud of who they are as people.
You see, no matter who I would have married in life, my children would have been Black anyway because I'm Black. Had the U.S. not had the One Drop rule in full effect, my own moral code would state that loud enough. I happen to be immensely proud of being Black and would have wanted my children to celebrate that.
My kids also happen to be part White. Should that be celebrated as well? See, this is where people begin to disagree with me on the melanin challenged side of the argument. I think the world tends to celebrate being White just fine as it is without my two kids adding to that. Pick up a magazine or turn on the television and the vast majority of people you see are White and their culture IS being celebrated and revered. They ARE championing themselves. So much so, that my children do not need to be reminded of it, they do not need to question the role of White people in society. The books they have in schools will teach them of the history of White people and they will not be denied any portion of being White...well, almost.
You see, while most people consider themselves so open minded, they also have this thing that their brains do going back to Sesame Street asking "which one of these is not like the other"....it's natural. It happens. We look at a new person and our brain automatically seeks out similarities between them and ourselves and those become the unspoken bond. That's why it's so easy to say hello to a passerby of the same ethnicity when standing on the corner waiting for the bus. You are already at ease with them because of your similarities. The opposite remains true of differences. That's why most people don't just strike up conversation with someone of a different ethnicity in that same situation.
Now, I'm not saying it doesn't happen, but I don't believe that it's instinctual. I think going out and approaching that person with more differences requires the outgoing personality or the liberal mindset or the extra and beyond...do you get my meaning? It's here that YOU and your personality come in to play.
Ahh...real life catching up to me so I will have to continue part two of this to futher explain the identity my children have, my issues with who chooses to date whomever and how I believe our personalities affect interpersonal communication..rather interethnic, interracial communication. To Be Continued...
Lately, the subject of who is dating whom has been all a buzz around me. Whispers of this brother dating that sister or dating that woman who is definitely NOT a sista. Then the, 'How do you feel about Black men that date (fill in the blank)' type questions on message boards. Well, my answer is the same for all the questions; I don't give a flying fig.
It's not that I don't care because I'm spoken for and I mean quite spoken for and albeit by someone that many wouldn't consider a brotha and not their brotha no how( unless the Black community has suddenly decided to invite Lithanian/Mayflower descendants into the fold--oh dear, was that swine by my 2nd floor window?), but more simply because it doesn't involve me. It doesn't touch me.
It a Black man wants to date a White woman or a Latina, then I wish them well. I'm not threatened by it, nor am I upset with him or do I think he stepped outside the bounds of decency. He did what is well within his right to do; he dated the person he felt so inclined to date. Good...because I use my options too.
People will say that dating interracially 'doesn't do it for them'...great, then don't do it. Some will even go so far as to say how disgusted they are by the opposite gender of another ethnicity, calling them ugly, insulting their scent and then even more will bring up our history of oppression and question the logic of dating specifically black/white interracially as a slap in our ancestors faces.
Problem for them is that they don't know my ancestors. I happen to know many of mine. I happen to know how their lives were affected by interracial dating and marriage and I know also that many rebuked the status quo and went with their heart, at very high prices to their lives. I know the biggest slap in their face would be for me to be complacent, shiftless, ambitionless, devoid of morals and values and to let my circumstance define me. I know that they would appreciate the woman I have grown to be and I know they would be proud of me and my accomplishments. I know they would look into my bi-racial children's eyes and see their own facial features reflected back in two children with lighter complexions, but that are confident in their Blackness and at their young ages, able to stand up, say that and be proud of who they are as people.
You see, no matter who I would have married in life, my children would have been Black anyway because I'm Black. Had the U.S. not had the One Drop rule in full effect, my own moral code would state that loud enough. I happen to be immensely proud of being Black and would have wanted my children to celebrate that.
My kids also happen to be part White. Should that be celebrated as well? See, this is where people begin to disagree with me on the melanin challenged side of the argument. I think the world tends to celebrate being White just fine as it is without my two kids adding to that. Pick up a magazine or turn on the television and the vast majority of people you see are White and their culture IS being celebrated and revered. They ARE championing themselves. So much so, that my children do not need to be reminded of it, they do not need to question the role of White people in society. The books they have in schools will teach them of the history of White people and they will not be denied any portion of being White...well, almost.
You see, while most people consider themselves so open minded, they also have this thing that their brains do going back to Sesame Street asking "which one of these is not like the other"....it's natural. It happens. We look at a new person and our brain automatically seeks out similarities between them and ourselves and those become the unspoken bond. That's why it's so easy to say hello to a passerby of the same ethnicity when standing on the corner waiting for the bus. You are already at ease with them because of your similarities. The opposite remains true of differences. That's why most people don't just strike up conversation with someone of a different ethnicity in that same situation.
Now, I'm not saying it doesn't happen, but I don't believe that it's instinctual. I think going out and approaching that person with more differences requires the outgoing personality or the liberal mindset or the extra and beyond...do you get my meaning? It's here that YOU and your personality come in to play.
Ahh...real life catching up to me so I will have to continue part two of this to futher explain the identity my children have, my issues with who chooses to date whomever and how I believe our personalities affect interpersonal communication..rather interethnic, interracial communication. To Be Continued...
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