a battle lost (why i major in pan-african studies)

it was my first day in the gifted program in high school. i was a black eight-grader attending a predominantly white high school as a part of the minority to majority program (send black kids living in inferior black neighborhoods to schools in superior white neighborhoods).

i was immediately uncomfortable. i wondered if i even belonged there. sure, i had participated in a similar program in elementary school, so it wasn't like i wasn't familiar with the system of it all. however, this was different. in elementary school i was among many other black kids who were deemed "gifted" as a result of test scores that for some reason determined the intelligence level of a child. funny, but despite my test scores, up until then i had never received better than average grades in school. that didn't matter, though. as long as the test scores remained high, i was "gifted". what utter bullshit, but that's a discussion for another day.

anyway, i'm sitting in the class and looking around, noticing real quick-like that i was the only black kid in the room. i slunk down in my chair, trying to make myself invisible to the blond-haired, blue-eyed teacher who from time to time would stare pointedly at me as if to say "what the fuck is this nigger doing in my program?"

i had never seen that look before. or maybe i had never recognized the look before that very moment. she wore her hatred like a technicolor coat, changing from the crimson passion of bitter animosity whenever i dared raise my hand to answer a question to the stinging green glaze of contempt when the answer proved to be correct to an icey azure of indifference when she attempted to ignore me the rest of the time. i sat at my desk and watched the coat evolve from one to color to another, not really sure why it only appeared when she was reminded of my presence in her room. i stiffened my spine and sat up straight in my chair, picking up the guantlet that had been silently tossed in my direction.

she made a point of calling on me to answer question after question during the first fifteen minutes of class, as if she was praying i'd answer wrong so she'd have justification for her belief i shouldn't be there. the topics ranged from science to calculus to the american government and to her disappointment, i answered none incorrectly. my face was all shiny and happy cuz i was so proud of myself.

then somewhere towards the end of the period, the discussion turned to the civil rights movement. was it for my benefit or detriment? if i had learned anything from the first fifty minutes of being in her presence it was that she wasn't to be trusted. at this point, i said little. frankly, despite all of the "education" i'd received up until that point, very little of it concerned the civil rights movement past martin luther king and rosa parks. i'm ashamed to say it now, but i have to tell it, because again, it speaks to just how fucked up the education system was (and still is) regarding the educating of black kids about the textured and multi-hued fabric that is the history of black folk in america and beyond. but i digress...

so i sat there as the white kids around me discussed the court case that forced white schools to enroll black kids like me into their ranks because separate didn't mean equal. they talked about how tired rosa parks must have been to refuse to give up her seat to that white guy and how martin luther king was a good preacher who fought non-violently for the rights of black folk.

and i remained silent through the whole thing, because i was unsure of what i could contribute to the conversation other than what was already being said.

my silence was being duly noted, as ms. hateanigger kept making furtive glances at me, a puzzled look on her face.

then with a dawning comprehension she realized why i wasn't saying anything. she interrupted the discussion right then and there and looked me straight in the eyes, pulling her shoulders back as if getting ready to put up her fists for a fight. she took a deep breath and spoke.

"nikki, dear..."

her condescending tone had turned my name into an insult.

everyone in the class turns to me, as if sensing the importance of this moment. looking back, i wonder if hatred against black folk was easier for them to detect than it had been for me up until then. it was like they were all waiting for the negro kid to speak knowledgeably about the civil rights movement cuz, you know, i was a negro. this would also prove to be my first foray as representative for the entire black race. i could feel the fear rising to settle like a brick in my throat.

"yes ma'am?" i answered.

she paused, as if building up for some kind of orgasm triggered by my next answer.

"what does 'n' double 'a' 'c' 'p' mean?"

i froze. i tried to draw my face into a picture of confidence, but i knew i had failed because fear is a pungent smell and a dog sniffing for it will find it and the nostrils on this bitch were flaring.

i didn't know what it meant.

i mean, i knew what the "n", one of the "a"s, the "c" and the "p" meant. it was the national association of colored people, right? no...that can't be right, cuz that leaves out one of the "a"s....

was this some kind of trick question??? oh boy...

i glanced around, a plea for help etched on my face. just remembering how i felt then makes me cringe right now out of both embarrassment and anger. embarrassment because i was actually looking for a white kid to save me from a moment when my inherent "negro-ness" should have prevented the moment from occurring in the first place. anger because i was looking for help from some of the same kids who had been smirking in disdain at me up until then.

i started to sweat a little.

every black person knows what naacp means, right? that question kept repeating itself in my mind as i started wringing my hands and biting the inside of my mouth.

yeah...every black person except me.

the black kid who had tested so high on her iowa tests, she had placed in the top 1% of her age group in the nation.

the black kid who had been in the gifted program in her elementary school since third grade.

the black kid who had been skipped a grade based solely on her test scores.

the black kid who, despite the high test scores that labeled her highly intelligent, didn't know shit about the history of black people.

the black kid who at that very moment was actually calculating the probability of a meteor falling from the sky to wipe out if not the planet, then at the very least the teacher now standing before her with the look of malicious triumph lighting her eyes like shattered glass reflecting flame from a soul already dwelling in hell with the devil.

mrs. hateanigger stood there, feet spread, hands braced on her hips, a grin on her face as she waited for my answer.

"uh...it stands for the national association of all colored people."

the kids around me started snickering, but the sound wasn't loud enough to drown out the sound of my heart as it thundered beneath my breasts.

mrs. hateanigger remained standing, her face red as she tried to hold onto the sound of her own snickering, before the force proved too strong and she quickly let out a guffaw before going silent.

"no, dear." she faked looking aghast. "it stands for the national association for the advancement of colored people."

she emphasized "for the advancement" as if to say "evidently not very far"...

thinking back on that moment, i'd have to agree with her, though the very action makes me want to peel back my skin with a really sharp cheese grater.

after i sat down, i could feel the eyes of everybody in the class still upon me, but i refused to look up from the desktop. i was extremely embarrassed and hurt and i felt let down, although i wasn't sure who or what had let me down.

later that day, as i sat on the school bus taking me from superior school to the inferior area known as my neighborhood, i thought long and hard about what labels like "highly intelligent" and "gifted" really meant.

and how absolutely worthless they are without "knowledge of self".

oral sex and its ability to fix the fuck up

you know i love sucking dick. however, i'm not gonna fool myself into thinking i can get myself out of trouble just cuz i suck a brotha off. if i'm guilty of some major shit, he'll still be pissed off about it, if only before and after he spreads his legs and pushes my head between 'em.

now the joke is that all a sista got to do is get down on all fours and handle hers if she wants to fix the fuck up, and while that's a downright easy (and for me, straight up reward for punishment), the fact is she STILL spent the gas bill money on a pair of shoes, so she'll be sucking his dick in the dark if they can't find the money to pay it. basically, she'll be fumbling in the dark, with her mouth sucking on buttons before it hits his dick, and despite her best efforts, she's still gonna be in trouble. meanwhile, he'll have gotten his toe-curling experience right before he kicks her ass out.

and of course, this is vice versa. if a brotha is eating the cooch thinking he's gonna atone for dipping his pen in someone else's ink, he's mistaken. that's the big fuck up that won't be taken care of just cuz a brotha can kiss the lower lips properly.

so then the question is, when do we use our talents to our best advantage? i mean, if i just burned down a brotha's house after a heroine binge, is sucking his dick gonna help my cause? is me licking his balls gonna make him feel better about the fact that his 37 inch flatscreen television is now destroyed and laying beneath a still smoldering mountain of ashes, much of which is comprised of what's left of his favorite football chair?

i mean really, is tossing his salad gonna make him forget his collection of throwback jerseys is now ruined, all because i got happy with the heroine?

i don't think so.

aiight, then with that extreme out of the way, what's the most i can get away with? that depends on how much i'm willing to do to fix it. i'm not talking about cooking dinner or ironing a brotha's underwear. i already cook and i don't do ironing. i want this solution to be as easy and as effortless as possible, and there are few things requiring less effort than sucking a brotha's dick.

at least, that's if you've only committed small violations like forgetting to tivo his wwf programs or ruining one of his shirts (one that's not his favorite). that kind of thing should only require maybe a few licks of the tip, caressing of the balls, and maybe a pinch of an asscheek. no swallowing is necessary and five minutes should make him forget about it.

but what if i, say, put a tiny dent in his car door. i'm talking the kind of dent that he can't even see unless he leans in really close. the paint isn't even chipped. shit, it might actually make the car look better (aiight, so maybe i'm reaching here...)

anyway, what's a sista to do? this will require maybe a little more effort. first off, i'll probably have to be down there for a good ten to twenty minutes (if he can last that long, that is). then i'm gonna have to not only lick the scrotum, but probably hit the crack and crevices, too. i'll probably have to swallow just to make sure i'm covered. all of this could potentially leave me with a neck cramp, which is a small price to pay for being able to bypass his anger when he sees that dent and tries to go ballistic.

but what, past that, can i get away with? that's what i want to know. if i put down the full-treatment, what will that get me? i'm not gonna waste that on something small. that kind of thing has to get me out of something worth doing it for.

i guess eventually the lower lips gotta come in and save the upper lips when it's obvious a blowjob won't fix the crime.

but then the next question is, how freaky a sista gotta get if she wants him to forget she just totalled his brand new, tricked out hummer...while on her way to another brotha's house...after smoking a bag of weed she didn't bother sharing with him...

black folks still experiencing "firsts"

70% of the nfl is black, yet out of 32 teams, only five are headed up by black coaches. out of those five, none has been a head coach in the super bowl. this year we might see a change in the weather.


tony dungy, head coach of the indy colts, is poised to become not only the first black head coach to make it to the super bowl, he is set to be the first one to WIN it. the colts are 11-0, placing them as only the sixth team since 1970 to start a season 11-0 and the first team since the super bowl winning denver broncos of 1998 to do so.

why is this significant?

because his success will confirm that black men can be successful coaches in the nfl and therefore, will make it easier for others to follow in his steps.

because in the year 2005, black folks are still experiencing "firsts" within our race. pioneers are being born everyday and there are still plenty of opportunities for us to start the paths behind which succeeding generations will follow. in an american society that prides itself on being "politically correct" (laughable, isn't it?), many of us have taken our intergration into society as proof we have "arrived" and therefore, effort on our parts to blaze new trails is unnecessary. however, all one has to do is look at the lack of the depiction of the breadth and depth of our experiences on television to see that not only have we NOT arrived, we're still standing on the subway platform.

unfortunately, many of us are still in positions where we're constantly proving ourselves others. we're still proving that black folks are capable of accomplishing what other folk have deemed we can't. as the token negro in my place of employment, i am faced with this task everyday. there are still moments when my supervisors look at me in awe because a completed task was done in a way which surpassed their expectations, which isn't saying much, considering how low they were from the start. so their surprise is not an ego-stroke. to the contrary, their surprise is an insult and is symptomatic of a society that has chosen to bury its disrespect of difference under a mountain of politically-correct verbage. it's the equivalent of them being impressed at my ability to wipe my ass and flush the toilet.

in other words, just because they let me in, doesn't mean they expected much. it's almost as if they'd resigned themselves to the fact that the hiring of a black woman meant they would get the very basic level of performance necessary not to fuck shit up.

so i recognize the importance of my being in this position. it's not just about being one of only two blacks in my department. it's also about raising their level of expectations for the generations of black folks who will follow me because they recognize we CAN do. it's about getting them to expect and respect what i bring to the table both as a human being AND as a black woman. i am a pioneer here.

a pioneer isn't just the cat who lead the civil rights movement or the sista whose refusal to go to the back of the bus was documented as the beginning of that movement. it's not just the brotha who became the first black person to sit on the supreme court, nor is it the sista who became the first black secretary of state.

and the term "pioneer" isn't just a reflection of positive action, it's a reflection of negative action as well.

christopher columbus was a pioneer for spain, but the trails he blazed led to the destruction of an entire population of indigenous people in america.

a pioneer could be the person who survives the daily struggle and still finds motivation for waking up the next day. this person is busting down barriers currently preventing the world from acknowledging a person's worth based on his or her humanity and not his or her fiscal contribution simply by being responsible and making a way for him or herself in a manner that is positive.

or a pioneer can be the person who never sees the importance of his or her existence in the world and therefore, makes decisions that ultimately make it more difficult for those after him or her to find success on their own merits.




so that cat who is never late for his job picking up garbage is a pioneer.
the sista who decided to teach for pennies instead of taking a corporate job that would have had her living in luxury is a pioneer.
the kid who, despite his lack of aptitude in math, still studies hard and makes good grades in it is a pioneer.





but so is the rapper who uses misogynistic lyrics or the politician who takes bribes or the person who keeps losing his or her job because they can't seem to get to work on time.

every day is brand new, with new opportunities to blaze trails, both good and bad. our existence here will either make it easier or more difficult for the ones coming after us. it's really that simple.

so i ain't mad at the fact that if dungy wins the super bowl, he'll be the first black coach to do so in the almost hundred years of the nfl's existence. the fact is, there will never be a time when black folk won't be experiencing "firsts".

but i won't be mad if we have even more black folk being the "last" to do something fucked up.

timing is everything

so you find yourself in a relationship. it's aiight, but probably not the most satisfying for you. then you meet someone you vibe with instantly. you have alot in common with this person and you start wondering to yourself if you've made the right decision to be with the one you've chosen. only thing is, the person you are vibing with is also in a relationship, so it's not like you can end your without that person also having to end his or hers.

so what is the solution? do you stay in the friendship with the person you're vibing with? do you say to yourself "i'm totally cool with the fact that my imagination is putting me in his arms but i can't ever have him."

or do you end the friendship because you know you'll just end up frustrated at the fact that you can't have what you want?

and does vibing with this person mean there are some important factors lacking in your current relationship?

is the grass always greener on the other side or does it just seem that way?

Mariucci fired? oh HELL TO DA NAW.

aiight...right now i'm really and truly fucking pissed.


steve mariucci, coach for the detroit lions, was fired today after his team fell to a 4-7 record for the season following a loss to the atlanta falcons on thursday.

his record is 15-28 over two and a half seasons. in that time, his team has never made the playoffs. millen and the rest of the idiots in the front office actually believe it's mariucci's fault!

so let's put the facts down...

2001 season, two friggin years before mariucci even got there, detroit finished 2-14, good enough for last place in their division. the following season they finished 3-13 which left them again in the basement of their division.

mariucci signed on in 2003, and everyone was hoping he would turn the franchise around. former college phenom joey harrington was already on board and their previous season's ineptitude guaranteed them the second pick in the draft, which they used to pick up wideout charles rogers. see, their logic was that with rogers and harrington, they were gonna form a legendary tandem along the lines of montana to rice. too bad rogers is about as brittle as my grandma's ass. if he even looks at astroturf hard enough, he's gonna break his collarbone. in fact, he's been sidelined with injuries all three years he's been there, starting only nine out a possible 43 games during that span. so there goes the magic duo.

then detroit's front office, again displaying the kind of wisdom that makes one wonder if they've all been lobotomized, use yet ANOTHER first round draft pick on ANOTHER wide receiver...this time it's roy williams, former texas player who was catching passes from chris simms. now this wouldn't have been such a bad move if not for the fact that detroit STILL didn't have a running game worth a shit. they hadn't had a decent running game since sanders.

why is this important?

because no passing game is gonna be effective without a running game the defense has to respect. why do you think it's so easy for harrington to end up on his ass after a pocket collapse? it's because the defense knows detroit don't have a running back, so it can anticipate the play before it even happens. a defense can double up on williams, look at the two receiver like he's a punk, and STILL have folk on the line who can take down harrington and all because there is no running game.

with a running game, the defense would have put more folks on the line, which opens the pass game up because then they can't commit two on williams all the time, otherwise a good running back would exploit the openings midfield and beyond. they can't crowd the line, cuz then the receivers will eat 'em up.

so knowing this, what does detroit do? they pick up a running back in the first round of the 2004 draft, kevin jones, out of va tech. this after five straight years of picking a running back no higher than the 4th round, so you know they got left with the kind of running backs who played at southeastern kalamazoo central state junior college.

they could have had clinton portis, willis mcgahee, larry johnson, rudi johnson, thomas jones, or steve jackson...all cats who are in the top fifteen in rushing for the league this year. they HAD rueben droughns (currently tenth in the league in rushing) and got rid of him! anybody hear of these cats: sedrick irvin, luke staley, artose pinner, brandon drumm? these are the running backs detroit drafted in the last five years. are any of these cats even still in the friggin league???

btw, kevin's in 28th place out of 30 running backs in the league with a whopping 523 total rushing yards.

so the blame is being put on mariucci, as if he drafted these people. now while i hold him responsible for not having the most effective system in place, if they're gonna fire him for detroit sucking, they better get rid of matt millen, too. millen is control of ALL FOOTBALL OPERATIONS, and since he got to detroit in 2001 detroit has gone 20-55. at least with mariucci, detroit has experienced at least a one game improvement in each of his seasons over the previous season.

in fact, i say they should just fire millen. i mean really...would you trust a guy with a smile like THIS to run your team? I damn sure wouldn't...

don't let yourself get played, brothas

from the moment our buttcheeks were cradled in the hands of the doctor who delivered us from our momma's wombs, sistas have known how to use what we got to get what we want. even when we didn't know any words, we could still get a person to wipe the shit off our asses, stick a cyndrical-shaped object in our mouths to feed us, pick us up to comfort us, and burp us. shit, i had a guy doing all that stuff for me last week.

seriously, though. manipulation can be very easy when a sista knows your weakness. unfortunately, you guys are making it too easy for us because for alot of you, the weakness that can always be exploited is your need for sex. now this doesn't go for all or even most of the sistas out there, but as a female, i'm tired of hearing about how a brotha got turned into a dog because he got played by a sista when all he had to do was arm himself with some knowledge to prevent it from happening in the first place. it's sistas like this who are fucking it up for the rest of us.

now there are a number of scenarios in which a brotha can find himself getting played but i'm gonna focus on one i've recently bore witness to.

say for instance you and the sista have been friends for years. you have feelings for her and you think she might have feelings for you. you might have even told her about your feelings for her. you might have even said the dreaded three word phrase that in normal circumstances, would have guaranteed you some pussy. however, in this case, that didn't happen.

instead, you two have done some heavy making out, like you've touched her naked breasts, maybe even stuck a finger or two in her pussy. however, you two have never had sex in all the years you've known her. also, she tells you about her boyfriends and guys she flirts with or dates, even AFTER you've told her about your feelings for her. she instead continues with the "friendship" as if nothing has changed between you two. she acts like she needs your help in dealing with these relationships, asking for your advice on how to appeal to a guy she likes or how to get rid of a guy she's no longer interested in.

in the meanwhile, you think you're her best friend because she's sharing her relationship woes with you. she got you believing you mean alot to her because you know her secrets. i only got four words for you.

WAKE THE FUCK UP.

it's like sports...if you're a coach and you've got a player who time after time is letting you down in the clutch, are you gonna keep putting your hopes and dreams for success in him or are you gonna tell him to clean out his locker so you can get someone else in there? the answer is obvious here. you'd cut his ass quick cuz he was killing you. (billy cundiff, watch out...parcells is gonna be cutting your ass REALLY SOON.)

but back to that matter at hand...

this sista you're dealing with is immature and insecure and doesn't know what she wants, so she's dangling you by a string she won't ever voluntarily cut herself. she knows she's hurting your feelings when she tells you about the other guys but she doesn't care because your constant stroking of her ego is more important to her than your hurt feelings. see, if you were no longer around, who would she have to pine over her? who would she have to validate her appeal on the daily? without you, she'd have no one "loving her from afar" and for this sista, the idea of you yearning for her is way too appealing for her to just cut you off (which she knows she should do if she really gave a shit about your feelings).

she's being selfish and if you think she's got you hanging around because you're significant to her, think again. you're significant to her only in that "no matter how lonely i am in the world, i've got one punk out there who loves me" kinda way. you're that puppy she brings out to kick in the nuts whenever she feels down on herself and needs a little "pick me up".

what to do? CUT HER ASS OUT OF THE PICTURE NOW. in sports terms, this is the equivalent of seeing her as a football and putting a foot in her ass as you kick her out of your life. don't delude yourself any further. this sista IS NOT your friend, cuz friends don't deliberately set out to hurt each other. if she really cared about you, she would either stop talking about the other guys around you or she would break off the friendship herself cuz she knows your feelings for her won't subside if she's constantly in your presence. you have been languishing in "onlyfriendsville" for years and this will be your permanent residence unless u haul your ass outta there. sure, there are plenty of folks who start off as friends and then turn into lovers. however, i guarantee that the sista involved didn't flaunt her sexual exploits around her male friend if she knew it was hurting him. she'd value the friendship enough to respect the fact that he would be hurt to know about what she was doing with every brotha out there but him.

you can continue to pretend you might one day get your dick in the pussy but the fact is, it will never happen.

YOU WILL NEVER BE ELECTED TO FUCK THIS BUSH. YOU WILL ALWAYS BE THE GUY WHO HEARS ABOUT HOW SHE APPOINTED OTHER BROTHAS TO OVAL ORAFICE DUTIES.

this advice is for a particular friend of mine, but i figure all brothas need to know what they're dealing if they've got a female friend doing this to them.

oh, and if you're a sista doing this (and you know who you are), check yourself. you could possibly be fucking with a really nice guy who, because of your shitty treatment of him, has guaranteed he won't trust sistas in the future. and i might not know you, but believe i'm cussing your ass out in my mind whenever i encounter a bitter brotha and gotta deal with the baggage because of what you did to him.

help a sista out here, ladies! brothas need to know so that we don't have to suffer for it later.

thank you for giving me hardship

whenever something good happens to me, i thank god for the blessing. i realize now my gratitude is a selfish kind, as i'm only thanking him for the pleasure, while cursing him for the pain when in fact all of life's experiences are blessings. why? because it is usually during times of hardship when i come face to face with those qualities i'd never witness had my life gone on without them.

so i thank you god

for the strength i needed to survive my father's death

for the compassion i needed to forgive my aunt when she stole from my brother and i

for the understanding i needed when i caught my boyfriend cheating on me

for the determination i needed to get past the molestation and rapes

for the courage i needed to not allow those violations to permanently cripple me in future relationships

for the insight necessary for me to recognize my own self-destructive behavior immediately following those violations

for the empathy necessary to forgive the men who violated me

for the tenacity i needed to survive the time i was homeless

for the humility i needed to let my parents know i was homeless

for the patience i needed during the time i went eight months without a job

for the ability to love my parents despite their struggles with alcohol

for the unwavering desire to empower myself and others with positive action, which came as a direct result of past negative action

for the willingness to view each moment of hardship as an opportunity for a lesson to be learned
_____________

so thank you god for the pain, for like rain, i am all the more replenished as a result of its existence.

Attention Matt Millen, GM of the Lions...

you can stick in joey harrington...you can pull him and stick in jeff garcia...shit, you could take 'em both out and put JOE MONTANA in there and guess what? YOU'LL STILL LOSE CUZ YOUR OFFENSIVE LINE AIN'T WORTH A SHIT.

*sigh*

we now return you to your regularly scheduled program, already in progress

i wish i could wish you a happy thanksgiving, but i can't.

i don't consider myself to be all that militant, really. i'm just a regular sista trying to find her way through life the best way she can. i've got a regular 9 to 5 job in a regular city, drive a regular car to a regular dwelling and got regular fam.

in other words, i've conformed in many ways, choosing a lifestyle that doesn't have alot of drama in it. now this isn't to say i'm passively just letting the troubles of the world pass by without addressing them in an active manner. i do what i gotta do. but i'm not generating alot of controversy with how i'm living, you know?

however in this intance, i gotta just say fuck it and buck it. i can't do this thanksgiving shit. i just can't. i can wish you a happy "couple of days off of work" or a merry "get to watch the nfl on a thursday for a change" day or even a happy "stuff yourself silly with your mom's cooking" day. but i can't refer to it as thanksgiving. why? cuz it's some bullshit, that's why. to me, the whole idea of thanksgiving is laughable. it's celebrating fiction, really. we know the indians didn't break bread with the pilgrims. it wasn't that harmonious relationship the children books depict it to be. i can distinctly remember my third grade class putting on a play about thanksgiving. i was one of the indians. i had feathers stuck through my plaits and my line was "we thank you for breaking bread with us."

shit.

might as well have said "we thank you for giving us smallpox and wiping out a large portion of our population with that shit before taking over our land and ruining it with your destructive agricultural techniques. oh yeah, and thank you for the 'trail of tears' thing. alot of us were able to shed off alot of unwanted pounds during the journey." but no, i thanked the pilgrims for breaking bread, then glanced up to see the teacher with a huge smile on her face and an approving gleam in her eye. she mouthed "you did great!" and i put out the cheezy grin, all happy with my eight-year-old pride blowing up because i had done it right.

thinking back, i can't be mad at the teacher. she was doing what she was paid to do. but i can damn sure be mad at the school system for making the teachers put that bullshit into our minds. that's right along the lines of "slavery was a good thing for you black folks! think about it...you would have been stuck in africa living in huts and trading cowry shells for food instead of here in the good ole u.s. of a. living large and in charge!"

i'm part indian but i wasn't raised on a reservation, so i can't act like i'm living that life, so my outrage is first and foremost as a black person. thanksgiving is an insult to me. indians were straight up jacked up by the same folks who ended up enslaving our ancestors. what if white folks were living on reservations instead of indians? what if they'd had to suffer the kind of history and oppression here in america that the indians had to suffer? how would they feel if, on top of all that shit, the same government that fucked them over had created a national holiday based on the lie that white folk went willingly into the slaughter? they'd be pissed, i'm sure.

now for many, it's more about getting together with fam and eating food, playing cards, and watching football. i'm down with that.

so have a happy "get full, hang with fam, play spades, and watch football" day.

you think you know the ghetto folk role...but you don't.

"Ghetto, Ghetto, Ghetto, Ghetto we livin

These streets remind me of quicksand (quicksand)
When your on it you'll keep goin down (goin down)
And there's noone to hold on too
And there's noone to pull you out
You keep on fallin (falling)
And noone can here you callin
So you end up self destructing
On the corner with the tuli on the waist tight just got outta the bing doin stay time
Teeth marks on my back from the canine
Dark Memories of when there was no sunshine
Cause they said that I wouldn't make it
(I remember like yesterday)
Holdin on to what god gave me"

- Akon

there is no denying the negative impact ghetto living has left on black folk. many of us were killed as children, white chalk outlines of our little bodies tattoo the sidewalks and playgrounds with permanent reminders of how easy it is for a kid to die before having fully lived. liquor stores share the corners with other drug dealers, their narcotic products gifted in helping get folks minds lifted away from the daily struggle of surviving. many folk are strewn around like straws, sucking in the bitter drink of helplessness and victimnization which keeps their faces permanently disfigured into masks of self-hatred.

those of us no longer residing in the ghetto (if we ever did to begin with) find humor in all things "ghetto", creating whole sites dedicated to either laughing at and/or condemning the self-expression of folks living in the ghetto. blue hair weaved through bone-straight black-tresses finger-waved to perfection after a sista spent four hours in the beauty parlor and spent alot of her $5.50 an hour paycheck is seen as a joke to folk. she ain't just a mess. she's a "ghetto" mess, which implies that she's an entirely different species of mess, the kind that even cockroaches look upon with disdain.

but then non-"ghetto" folk come back with "ghetto-fabulous", as if that's a compliment somehow. a person with "ghetto" fashion sense can't just be fabulous cuz he or she isn't exactly up to the regular standard of what fabulous is. his or her fashion sense is just a step below, dwelling in that "she look good...for a dark girl" territory. you see, it's not fabulous on line with what is widely accepted as good fashion. it's fabulous on a lower scale of standards.."ghetto" standards. i mean really, only an ignant person would think a pink suit with matching gator shoes and a fedora with a pink plume in it is fabulous, right?


the thing is this...we black folk been expressing ourselves in this way since we were in africa. back then, we wore bright colors to express our passion for life and land, gold jewelry to confirm our royalty, and our hair in braids and cornrows. we went from fully clothed to scantily clad and nobody now will say africans back then looked stank or lacking class. so what's the difference between the regal behavior we ordained african fashion to be then vs. the tackiness we've labeled the folks dressing "ghetto fabulous" now?

only one thing. the enslavement of those africans.

in the aftermath of their enslavement, black folk have assimilated with the european standard for fashion and beauty to the point of dissing anything that deviates from that standard. we have used the definitions of other cultures to tell us what is classy and what is not (ghetto). we've assumed that anybody not practicing that particular brand of fashion is just ignant or "doesn't know any better." in other words, we're looking at our own folk through someone else's eyes and finding the image lacking.

and what's so ironic about the whole thing is that many folks say that its "ghetto" folk who exhibit the most self-hatred, glorifying violence and masochism and illegal behavior. meanwhile, the very act of labeling only things that are tacky and tasteless as "ghetto" or "ghetto fabulous in that tacky, tasteless sort of way" is evident of another kind of self-hatred. why? because the fact of the matter is that many black folks live in the ghetto and many black folks express themselves that way and many black folk living in the ghetto are just like those of us who "thank the lawd" are no longer subjected to living in the ghetto.

so this ain't just about black folk, it's about class (or lack thereof). the term itself implies the acquirement of status and acceptance in a world dominated by white folk, something that a "ghetto" person won't have.

now ultimately, i don't think the word "ghetto" should be used to describe anyone, fabulous or not. it's a noun, not an adjective. it's a place where people dwell, not who people are. but if we gonna go there, then acknowledge that "ghetto" is more than just tacky and tasteless and a reflection of ignorance. it's also that determined sista working an 80 hour week at a fast food joint or cleaning someone's house or BOTH, and doing it for pennies so she can keep a roof over the head of her family. it's that prideful brotha who gotta find dignity in a job that everybody else scorns and see as a "step down". it's that intelligent and courageous kid who's trying to find a way to be adequately educated with inferior educational tools while also trying to evade the lure of quick money in the form of illegal activity. it's that dilligent old lady who, despite her age, gotta work her ass off cuz social security and medicare benefits ain't but crumbs in the big pot.

the ghetto reflects all that is good and bad about black folk. the strength and determination and cunning necessary to survive the daily struggle, the laughter and love and hope necessary to make that daily struggle worth surviving, the killing and oppression and hatred that makes it a struggle in the first place.

and you bets to recognize.

a question of paternity and trust

consider this scenario: you're married and expecting your first child. after the child is born, as the father you notice the child looks nothing like you. do you demand a paternity test done? what if the child is the splitting image of you when you were its age? as the mother, your husband has asked you to have a test to confirm the paternity of the child. how would you feel about that?

i had an interesting discussion on this very thing with a friend of mine, west. he has taken the stance that a paternity test is automatic after the birth of each child, even if they're married. in fact, he says he will demand a paternity test be done for all of his children.

now initially, i was totally against the idea of requesting a paternity test be done for each child. as i see it, when two people take the vow of marriage, there is the assumption that they will both be faithful. however, he countered with the fact that many folks are unfaithful and therefore, no one knows the paternity of the child without confirmation of a test. he sees this as a practical move that insures the child is indeed his, comparing the request for paternity confirmation to a prenup agreement.

there are a number of practical reasons that a paternity test should be done. if the child wasn't fathered by the husband, then infidelity is confirmed. however, the only reason i could accept for this kind of thing is the fact that once the paternity is confirmed, the medical history of the child can be determined, which is necessary just in case the child comes down with a hereditary illness.

west says he will tell his intended prior to them getting married that it will be required for her to submit to a paternity test after the birth of each child. as a female, i find it difficult to wrap my mind around that demand. here's why:

a prenup agreement is in essence a document that guards assets against the possibility of future behavior that would prove detrimental to the marriage. it also exists so that in the case of the marriage ending, there is already a document establishing what goes to whom. i can understand why a prenup exists. people, by and large, have the potential to do things that aren't honest and can damage a relationship, so this is saying "if i do this, this is what happens".

however, when it comes to demanding paternity tests, i don't see how it directly compares to a prenup, unless it's stipulated in the prenup that the woman have a paternity test after every child. i would think that kind of demand would have to be put into writing before the marriage. but if there is already a prenup agreement place to guard against infidelity, why would a paternity test be necessary in addition to that?

how far does this kind of thing go? sure, it's practical to demand a paternity test. it's also practical for a woman to demand her husband have an aids test prior to every time they engage in sex. there are a number of unknown factors to each relationship and we rely on the fact that we've chosen people who are worthy of our trust to determine what kinds of demands we make regarding their actions. is it really an unwise thing to trust the person you've vowed to honor, trust, and be loyal to to the point of not demanding a paternity test be done after each child is born?

i don't see many women out there agreeing to that kind of stipulation. i mean really, when does the trust begin in the relationship? if a woman tells her husband she's pregnant with his child, why is a paternity test necessary? isn't the act of demanding a paternity test in essence the man telling the woman he's unsure of whether or not to believe her and instead prefers concrete evidence of her fidelity to her word?

ultimately, everyone has the capacity to do evil. however, don't we know that when we enter into a relationship with a person? the fact that we make the commitment in the first place means that despite the potential for that kind of behavior, we trust that person not do do something that would violate our trust and betray our relationship. a prenup might bring up the more practical aspects of being in a relationship, but i think that's guarding against the "what if". if a woman becomes pregnant and a paternity test is demanded by her husband, i think that is telling the woman "your word isn't good enough and until i see confirmation from the test, i can't believe you." this is second-guessing her faithfulness regarding an act that has already taken place.

what woman do you know who would be willing to accept that kind of relationship? i don't know of any. does trust in relationships come with stipulations? "i believe you in situation a, b, and c. i will not believe you automaticaly in situations d, e, and f." is there such a thing as that? if so, trust in a relationship is way more complicated than my simple mind can understand. i think i'm a realist when it comes to relationships, especially after having experienced the worst that can occur between folks short of murder. however, i don't think i'm blindly trusting a brotha if we're married and i don't ask him to have an aids test before every time we have sex. i think i'm telling him i believe in his honor. i believe in him as a person and his faithfulness towards the relationship.

the potential for me getting hurt by making that assumption in his character is just as great as the potential for me not getting hurt. therefore, demanding a paternity test in a committed relationship is accepting the more cynical view that folks are more likely to be dishonest than honest. it's focusing moreso on a person's potential for evil than their potential for good. where's the hope for a successful marriage in that way of thinking?

i can see where a demand for a paternity test is demanded between unmarried folks who haven't made a commitment to each other. however, i can't see it in a marriage.

what do you think? someone explain to me how its more important to establish paternity than it is to have emplicit trust in the person you've chosen to spend the rest of your life with?

why? cuz i'm crazy!

i have always sought comfort in answers. the first word ever spoken from my mouth wasn't "mama" or "dada". it was "why?", followed shortly by the utterance of my first sentence "what the fuck?" (yeah, i was cussing from an early age, too...). when my mom held a spoonful of nasty, vomit-colored baby peas gerber food up to my pursed lips, i can distinctly remember asking "gutdafudisatit?" (translated, it means "what the fuck is that shit?!?" in infantese.) by the time i had the english version of "why" shooting from my lips at every turn (around age 1 1/2), my parents were both ready to kill me, bury me, and tell everybody my birth was an abberation.

even then, i had an idea that simply having an answer was not enough. it had to be a plausible answer, one that made sense from every angle. i had to feel in my heart that it was true, because if the answer didn't make sense, i became agitated. now if the question was "why do you love me?" the answer was simple and i could accept it. "because you're my daughter and you mean the world to me" did wonders in halting further questions, cuz it always left me feeling warm and fuzzy all over. however, many of my questions were about stuff my parents couldn't readily answer.

"why does the toilet make that sound when i flush it mommie?"

"why do you invite ms. simpson over when i heard you tell daddie she was a bee eye tee cee aaych and you don't like her?" (i didn't know what the word meant, but i learned how to spell it pretty early on)

"why is the color of grass called 'green'?"

"why is uncle albert kissing that man on the mouth like that? isn't that how you kiss daddie?"

"what is a 'cock', mommie?" (asked a couple of weeks after i was sexually molested)

needless to say this created additional frustration with my parents (and straight up panic after the question regarding the cock). eventually every question was answered with a succession of responses: first was an exasperated "because it just is!", followed by an angry "because i said so!", ending with a spelled out expletive. "eff you cee kay" was my dad's favorite, which explains why i use it so much now.

by the time i was in elementary school, i was terrorizing everyone with my constant questions. i didn't have many friends my age because they grew tired of the inquiries rather quickly.

"why do you have a crush on eddie? he's got big ears and bad breath!"

"why did you copy my answers on your test?"

"why do we have to throw eggs at mrs. jones? she's a nice lady."

"why do you want to kiss me? i don't even LIKE you!"

many of the kids didn't even bother to answer. instead i got that "you're a crazy bitch" look right before they turned and ran away from me, subsequently keeping all future contact with me to a minimum.

my teachers, initially impressed with my inquisitiveness, ultimately became defensive with me. i was moved to another science class after i asked the teacher "why are human beings the only ones alive in the universe?" eventually i was put into the gifted program. i'm sure it was done in order to isolate the torture to one teacher.

the incessant need to know for the sake of finding comfort in the answer drove me right into high school. by this time i figured out the only way to get the answer i wanted was to seek it out myself. i spent hours in the library looking for the answers to such questions as "why are white people satan worshippers?" (that one came after i overheard my then recently foi inducted uncle refer to them as 'devils'), "why does charles refer to his penis as 'cock'?" (i knew what it was by then, but still didn't know why it was referred to like that), "why are boys better at math while girls are better at english?" (a purely egotistical motive because i hated the fact a boy was better than me at ANYTHING).

why was i picking the most difficult questions to ask? well, it was because no one had an answer that made sense to me and everything had to make sense to me. if it made sense, then i wouldn't have to worry about unknown, uncontrollable forces impacting my life. of course, i didn't know that then. i'm sure alot of the time i was asking questions just to see how far i could go before i totally pissed someone off.

there was only one time during my teenage years where i didn't want to ask the question, yet i was forced to in part because i had alienated many of the guys in my neighborhood.

"uh...will you be my prom date?"

that fucking sucked.

once i entered college, things had improved a little. by then, i had gotten a grip on the questions for the most part. every now and again i'd slip, though. it was usually during the worst possible moment - while having sex.

"why are you doing this to me???" (that was asked during the first and second rape)

"why do you want to stick THAT in my ASS???" (asked during my first bout with anal sex)

"why do want me to SWALLOW that stuff???" (asked before my first experience with performing oral sex)

luckily for me, i was already in casual sex mode, so i didn't care if i pissed them off so much they didn't bother to set up a second date.

now, as an adult, i recognize my need for answers and why that need exists. yes, i want the comfort that comes with knowing the answer. i also want to know what motivates people to do the things they do. i figure if i can figure out the motivation, i can find a way to eliminate the negative motivation that leds a person to perform negative behavior. simple, huh? however, i've also come to realize that for 80% of the things that go on in life, there isn't a ready answer. i've had to learn to rely on faith and just let the question go unanswered. it has been hard, especially when i see shit like michael jackson getting arrested for YET AGAIN having kids in his bed, or when i see terrell owens straight up sabatogue his career by being a bitch and airing dirty laundry when it won't get him what he wants. when i see shit like that i can't help but wonder why.

then i realize there IS an answer for alot of that shit. it's cuz they're crazy mothafuckas. 'crazy' might not be the answer for why alot of things happen in life, but it damn sure explains why alot of people do the shit they do.

and i'm cool with that. for now.

*jumping down from self-righteous tower*

aiight. now that i've gotten over my indignant moment, i'll get over myself, too. while i don't regret the last post, because many of my points were valid, i have to recognize the judgment i inadvertently made towards the very folk i sought to defend: the sexually comfortable sista. in all my self-righteous blather, i was straight up dissing the sistas who engage in casual sex by calling them a ho. frankly, it ain't like i haven't done it. it's been about a decade, but it's been done, and i used to do the casual sex thing without much thought when i was in college. isn't that what college is for?

actually, it was another blogger's post about one of his college experiences that got me to think about this again. mr. serial dater, renamed in my mind as mr. serial fucker cuz a brotha get more ass than a donkey collector, had a post where he recollected about a sexual encounter he had in college. i thought back to when i was in college and how unsure i felt about myself then. by the end of my second year of school, i had been raped twice, and really had no idea of what an honest, emotionally intimate sexual experience was. i was feeling confused. part of me wanted to appeal to men and part of me wanted to wear the baggiest clothes i could get my hands on so i could hide every bit of evidence of my feminity from their eyes.

i was still rather inexperienced overall, as the rapes accounted for two of the four times i'd had sex. after that second time, i decided to never let a brotha have that kind of power over me again. i rebelled by sleeping around, telling myself that by doing so, i was controlling the situation because i determined how close a person got to me. i had no problem having sex and then dropping them from my mind as if they were little more than an errand i ran that day. looking back on that time, i realize the casual sex thing was never rewarding for me. regardless of how much a brotha pushed up beforehand, ultimately i felt i was only being used for the pussy. even when i had boyfriends i dated for long periods of time, i still felt that way.

by the time i left school, i was a wreck. then i met a brotha named vincent and experienced for the first time what sex was when there was a true emotional bond at the center of it. the first orgasm i ever experienced that wasn't self-inflicted was ignited by his fingers. yeah...i had been faking the orgasms up until then. being with vincent made me realize how soul-stirring those intimate moments can be. he was a caring and patient lover, and for the first time i didn't feel as though i had to maintain emotional distance during sex. i fully immersed myself within each moment, each emotion, each touch, each kiss. it was really mindblowing. that brotha had me OPEN. i totally enjoyed sex for the first time and i made him pay for it by begging him to fuck me whenever we were together. i'm sure i wore his ass out.

it's ironic, because actually HE was the one conflicted. he was part of a really religious family. you know, the kind of family who pray together, and not just before they eat dinner. they prayed before turning on the television to watch bobby jones gospel. they prayed each morning before everyone went to work. vincent couldn't even move out of the house because his parents were afraid of the secular influence on the brotha.

so after every fucking session, vincent would start feeling guilty. if the sex was extra good that day, he'd get down on his knees and pray for forgiveness. one time, after a particularly kinky session, brotha pulled me down onto my knees beside him and asked me to pray with him! i had just sucked his dick to the point of damn near taking the skin off of it before we fucked like animals while watching our reflection in the mirror on my bedroom dresser drawer! we hit every position imaginable. i never thought the last position of the fucking day would be me butt naked on the floor genuflecting before god to beg his forgiveness for enjoying some of the best sex i'd ever had!

ultimately, my constant demands for sex pushed him away. he got tired of the conflict he was experiencing as a result of us having sex. afterwards, he ended up joining this cult-like congregation of church-goers and became celibate with the vow to not have sex again until he got married.

now i'm not sure if it was because the sex with me was so bad he ran to a cult, or so good he was miserable with guilt over how good it was. either way, i was left looking for a new boyfriend.

in the over ten years since he and i dated, i've only had two one-night stands. i figured it was better to hold out for the real deal than to just take the sex because it was available, but that's just me. if i could reach the quality level of intimacy with a stranger, i admit i'd be down with it. i know i can't, though. it's partly because of my sexual history and partly because after having experienced sex with someone with whom i had a strong mental connection, i can't settle for just the suck off, fuck off thing.

there are plenty of women out there who can find pleasure in an intimate encounter with a brotha, no matter if he's a stranger to her or not. i gotta envy the ability, really. to be able to find that kernel of gold to savor with each moment of intimacy with a brotha. if it's really that easy and the end is that genuine, i applaud it. if she wants sex cuz she wants it and not because she needs to feel wanted, i ain't mad at it.

however, there are alot of sistas out there, lost like i used to be, who see sex as a way to find control in a world they can't seem to find control in. they need to feel as though they have something men want. they think they can only appeal to men sexually because they have no other attributes. its for those sistas i weep.

so in the end, there ain't no hos in the world. just folk trying to figure all this intimacy shit out the best way we can.

don't confuse me with a ho

i was gonna entitle this "don't confuse me with a whore" but i want to be real clear about who my audience is, and it ain't the brothas who refer to easy sistas as "whore". so if you know the ho i'm talking about ain't a hostess treat or a farm tool, listen closely.

the last two posts of mine have been a bit explicit. i won't apologize cuz sex is a part of life and ain't nothing to be ashamed of. anybody who equates sex with "being bad" is probably the kind of person who's offended by the term "doggie style" because it infers they're fucking a dog.

however, let's not confuse frank discussion about sex with a proclivity for casual sexual behavior with strangers. i enjoy talking about sex. i enjoy watching sex. i enjoy fantasizing about sex. i enjoy having sex. i do not enjoy having sex with strangers. my fascination with all things dick ain't nothing new to brothas who have been with sexually experienced women. the real of it is that the penis is a beautiful thing and should be worshiped for the joy it can bring to the world. it's because of this that i enjoy talking about it.

but just because i talk about dick doesn't mean i don't mind having some stranger's dick rammed into my twat. i don't know where your dick has been and despite my candor here, you don't know where my pussy has been. why would you even want to be all up in me without knowing me first?

a friend told me last night i shouldn't be surprised with being propositioned for anonymous sex considering the content of my previous posts. well, i am. my naivety evidently knows no bounds. i acknowledge that. on the flip side though, recognize your narrow-mindedness knows no bounds, cuz labeling a sexually comfortable sista a ho is indeed narrow-minded.

now maybe the confusion comes because sex is seen as a sacred intimacy and one who speaks of it in a non-sacred manner is someone who is willing to share it with just about anybody. let me put a stop to that misunderstanding right here. fucking is a good thing. shit, with the right person it can even be a great thing. however, i don't have to talk about fucking only in terms of "making love" and all the sappy shit that goes with that version of discussion in order to find it sacred enough to share only with the person i care about. whether the term is fornicating, screwing, humping, procreating, breeding, copulating, or fucking, it's all the same action. it refers to the same sexual intimacy between people. notice i didn't add 'raping' to that list. that's different, and if you don't see that, then you're one fucked up individual.

i hope i've cleared up any misunderstanding regarding my nature. if not, let me end with this: if i don't know you, i won't be fucking you.

i'm in writing, fighting mode

i would appreciate any feedback you can give

big-dicked guys have it made...

he doesn't have to be cute and he knows it. he could be so ugly the doctor tried to shove him back into his momma's womb at his birth and it wouldn't matter. he still walk into a room like he owns it, a self-confident swagger in his stride. he's a bit aloof, feeling it completely unnecessary for him to pursuit any of the women around him. he's content to sit back and wait for a woman to make eye contact with him. once that contact is made, he sits back and waits for her to come over. the thing is, he KNOWS she's gonna come, because he's got that secret package that is guaranteed to get her nose open.

she walks to him, not really certain why he didn't come to her first, but for some unknown reason feels compelled to further the acquaintance. once they get past the introductions, she realizes this guy has very little conversation. he puts forth little if any effort to move the conversation along, makes frequent glances around the room as if he's seeking out additional prey, and barely pays attention to what she's saying. the kicker is, she doesn't care. she just got a whiff of the reason behind her willingness to put up with this behavior...

this guy has a big dick.

see, a guy with a big dick doesn't have to put on tight jeans to accentuate the third leg he has in his crotch. he doesn't have to make statements like "i've got a big dick and i know how to use it." all that effort is unnecessary. all he gotta do is simply be. he knows no matter what kind of pants he wears, his dick is so big a woman will be able to spot it out as soon as she's standing in front of him. let's not get it twisted...he's not hung so low the head of his dick is peeking from beneath his trouser legs. no...he's got just enough length and thickness to put a serious bump in his crotch, but not so large where it enters a room before he does.

and he knows this is enough lure to pull in any woman he wants.

he's already got a black book full of women he could call on a moments notice. he's not even that great of a lover. half the time he could give a shit if the woman he's with has an orgasm. as far as he's concerned, she's priviledge enough to be the woman he chose to fuck that night. so what if she doesn't cum. she's getting a first class ride on monster dick airlines and the token bags of peanuts she receives as a meal should be enough.

shit, it'll HAVE to be enough, cuz a guy with a big dick most times does the bare minimum when it comes to sex. the fact is, the bigger the dick, the less a brotha feels compelled to do sexually.

now i'm sure there are brothas out there who are the exception to the rule. the ones who for whatever reason, haven't allowed the fact that they've got a big dick go to their heads. i don't think that's a significant portion, though. and guys, before you get mad and contradict my theory because you see yourself as being a considerate lover, be real with yourself.

do you really have a big dick? i'm talking larger than average, cuz the average dick ain't all that big. how thick is it? does it have a large head on it? i'm sure you've seen other dicks when you've gone to the bathroom or if you've been in a locker room. is your dick size on average with the brothas around you? here's the thing...the whole advantage of having a big dick is being able to confidently say "there aren't alot of guys out there with a dick as big as mine is." its this uniqueness that sets that kind of brotha apart from the others and makes him more appealing to women.

fo really...we sexually experienced women have had average to small sized dicks probably 90% of our encounters. this means we've spent alot of our sexual lives dealing with the issues that come with a guy with an average to small sized dick: short strokes so a brotha's dick won't fall out, having to squeeze our pussy or bring our legs in closer together so we can feel what's going on, telling him to be rougher with his strokes so every blue moon we can actually feel a dick reach deeper into our wombs.

so when a brotha with a big dick comes around, is it really surprising that sistas are willing to put up with his shit? of course not. don't be mad fellas. we women aren't supposed to get upset if you choose the girl with the bigger titties, phatter ass, and slimmer body. the only physical barometer you guys really have to contend with is dick size. you could be fat and fugly but as long as you've got a big dick, you'll get play.

that said, while many sistas will put up with a big-dicked for the sake of his big dick, there are also many of us who recognize the worth in the rest of you brothas. i'll give props to you guys in an upcoming post.

pt 1. what a girl wants sexually

there is no such thing as perfection, only imperfection that's perfect enough for me handle. with that in mind, i've put together a list of what i would want in a man. the first part lists the sexual requirements in no particular order:

1. like to have your dick sucked at spontaneous moments. i shouldn't feel bad or awkward for pulling out your penis at unspecified times, like right before you gets out of your car to come into the house, or when we're in a restaurant and have just placed our order for drinks, or while watching a movie in a theater. otherwise you might miss out.

2. know how to eat pussy. if a brotha gotta pull out some skin flicks to take notes, so be it. if you need me to write down in detail how i like it, i'll do it. either way, it's up to you to take the initiative and make sure you're not just rolling your tongue around with no clue as to what points you're supposed to hit. knowing how to eat pussy also means you doesn't mind the way a pussy smells and tastes. no, it don't smell like roses, but it don't smell like rank tuna, either. it smells like sex, and if you don't mind the smell of it on your dick, then you shouldn't mind the smell or taste of it on your mouth, either.

3. be confident enough to initiate sex and adventurous enough to make sex interesting. if you're horny, don't be afraid to let me know. odds are, i'm down with it, too. if i'm not, i'll tell you. if i'm not down, it's probably because you initiated it like a wimp. "uh, let's get naked." yeah...a real turn on. how about "i want to fuck you right now." while stroking your dick in your hand. now THAT will get you jumped on immediately. also, being adventurous doesn't mean fucking with the lights on. it means you're down for whatever, whenever. if i say i want to ride you and we're on our way somewhere, it means pulling the car over and getting the job done. if you are spontaneously horny, it means telling me, no matter where we are, and us finding a way to handle the situation.

4. be a good kisser. this is VERY important. if i have to wipe your saliva off of my chin after kissing you, something ain't right. if i'm shitting parts of your tongue out a couple of hours later, that means you've stuck it too far down my throat and i've digested part of it. if my tongue has bruises on it because you've slapped that slab of meat between your lips around the inside of my mouth like you're trying to break through concrete, i'm gonna bite it off. i like an aggressive thrust, just know the limits. also, i would prefer to be consumed in the kiss. put your body into it. a kiss is nothing without the other body parts (unless you're trying to tease, which ain't a bad thing...)

5. be good with your hands. there is a fine line between being passionate and being painful. find that line and don't cross it. also, i like gentle hands, but not all of the time. a smack on the ass can add sensuality to intimacy. you have my permission to grab my ass as much as you want, just as long as you don't gauge out skin. find my sensitive spots and make sure your hands know how to stroke each one properly.

6. keep the scrotum clean. i don't mean scrubbing the thing down with a brillo pad, nor do i mean keeping it powdered like it's a baby's ass. i mean making sure it's not so rank it singes my nose hairs when i go down to visit. if you've just finished doing something that required you to sweat, take a shower and make sure you hit under the scrotum with the wash cloth. it seems like there are alot of brothas out there who don't realize just how much stank can accumulate just in the crevice between the scrotum and his legs. this is more for your benefit than mine. if you're stinking down there, i'm not sucking your dick. period.

7. be sincere in your seduction. in other words, be good at it, but don't be so good it looks calculated. if you've got the lights timed to dim at a certain time during the foreplay, i'm leaving. if you've got a cd entitled "booty fucking music" or some other variation on that title, i'm leaving. fucking ain't a transaction to me, so don't treat me like a customer. i love candles and sensual music. just don't go about "setting the mood" for sex like you set the table for dinner. if it's that methodical to you, i'm not feeling it.

8. know how to use your instruments. i've had them in all shapes and sizes and one thing i've learned is that a guy having a big dick doesn't guarantee my satisfaction. don't go thinking just because i need two hands to wrap my hands around your dick means all you have to do is pump your hips back and forth. educate yourself on where the g spot is. don't think just cuz you see women having orgasms all over the place on skin flicks that it's as simple as sticking your dick in the twat and the rest takes care of itself. all of that shit is fiction. i guarantee those women are faking orgasms 80% of the time if they're cumming during intercourse. if you want a woman to cum during intercourse, know how to work your hips and know how to work your angles. it's like billiards. you know how you have to find the right angle and stroke in order to get the ball into the pocket? same here. find the right angle and stroke to get a sista to orgasm.

9. know MY instruments. this is probably redundant, as i've alluded to this a couple of times already, but it needs special consideration. educate yourself on all aspects of the pussy and other errogenous zones. don't guess on this. what works for some other girl you fucked might not work with me. all of our pussies are different, and it's up to you to find out how much and adjust accordingly.

10. bring a condom. unless i'm married to you, i ain't fucking you without it.

11. MAKE SURE I CUM, DAMNIT. 'nuff said.

diamante - the power of his kiss

lips
lush, flush
burning, yielding, yearning
skin, flesh, tongue, teeth
devouring, deflowering, empowering
open, hot
mouth

the question of empowerment

the conservative mindset is nothing new. it's almost utopian in philosphy, really. every man for himself, every person gaining success solely on his or her own merits, little to no government inteference in the daily pursuit to happiness. simple, really.

way too simple for such a complex existence we lead in today's society.

in a perfect world, a person's skin-color would have absolutely no bearing whatsoever on whether or not she succeeds or fails. her looks would have no influence on whether or not she'd be afforded more or less of an opportunity to succeed. her history wouldn't begin with freedom in her motherland followed by enslavement in another land, followed by freedom without equality later. see, this is the reality of what we live with today. the emancipation proclamation, signed to end the civil war, not to suddenly decree that black folks were equal in every sense of the word to white folks, sent thousands of blacks into the world with their freedom and little else. then they were told they had all the freedom in the world to pursuit their happiness by getting a good education that would lead to a good job that would lead to the success they want.

but just because they were told they were free didn't mean the people who had just owned them as chattel would suddenly see them as equal humans afforded the same right as as them, so of course with all that freedom talk came the backlash of lynching, jim crow laws, and general animosity towards these suddenly free yet totally unequal black folks. their "place" wasn't in the same schoolrooms, universities, and workplace as white folk, but how to make this message clear? well, considering black folks didn't get the 40 acres and a mule, they were already at a disadvantage when it came to demanding their rights. i mean really, how difficult could it have been to switch tactics of oppression from iron chains to invisible ones? they already didn't have money or an education. while there was plenty proof around of black folks ability to survive, there was little if any proof of black folks ability to thrive.

so where does the idea of self-empowerment take root?

when obstacles are created with the specific intent for a person to fail, how is that person supposed to all of a sudden become empowered? if, regardless of his or her efforts, forces beyond his or her control have made it difficult if not impossible to obstain self-sustainability, how is this person supposed to be self-empowered enough to find success on his or her own merits?

and before the discussion turns into "there's no conspiracy against black folks", let's look at the facts:

1. the emanicipation proclamation was signed to end the civil war. lincoln didn't think black folks were equal, nor would he have set them free if he could have found another way to end the civil war.

2. the government has a history of defining black folks as anything but human. from laws established to define them as property to laws that said basically black folks weren't human enough to intergrate with white folk, the government has only responded to black folks after they bitch enough about their treatment and demand their rights. let's not kid ourselves, folks. if black folks hadn't demanded their rights, they wouldn't have been given to them, unless of course the state of america was at stake and giving us our rights was essential in maintaining a state of prosperity. during reconstruction, the government put in a couple of measures meant to afford black folks equality. however, it was the equivalent of the following conversation:

fed. government - "we just kicked you southerners ass. now that we have you where we want you, we demand you allow the folks you just owned as slaves to vote. we demand you treat them as equals. "

southern state governments - "what the fuck? you expect us to give those niggers the same rights we have? are you out of your fuckin' carpetbagger mind? you fuckin' northerners, thinkin' you know more than us...thinkin' you're better than us...well you know what? fuck you! we're not givin' 'em SHIT and there ain't a GAWTDAMN THING you can do about it!"

fed. government - "oh yeah? well, we're going to send down some of our agents to make SURE you abide by what we say."

southern state governments - "is that so? well send your fuckin' agents. you won't be able to send enough to make us do it, you yankee bastards!"

fed. government to self - "well, it ain't really all THAT important. we'll send down a couple of folks and if they can't get it together down there, so be it."

after about five years, the whole project was abandoned and that was that. they didn't even bother to enforce the so-called laws giving black men the right to vote. a law ain't shit if it's not enforced. funny how the government made a point of enforcing the laws established during the time of slavery.

3. intergration laws, once established, weren't enforced until black folks demanded they be enforced. again, here we go forcing mothafuckas to acknowledge our rights again. inferior schooling, inferior jobs, inferior living conditions...these were all things black folks had to contend with ON TOP OF daily escape of the hangman's noose and the beating of them into their "place". lynchings were a common occurrence with the turn of the century and the government pretended it wasn't happening, instead choosing the "if i don't see it, it's not happening" stance. shit, that was basically the stance of the government right up until the civil rights movement.

4. racism, and the aggressive hatred brought on by it, didn't die with the end of segregation. the predominant mindset of black folks being sub-human didn't disappear with the civil rights movement. therefore, there is still a population of people out there who maintain that mindset. a person doesn't have to wear a white hooded costume or drive a ford pick up or live in south of the mason dixon line or fuck his first cousin in order to be racist. black folks were denied rights all over the u.s., not just the south. their pursuit for equality met with resistance no matter where they went, thus further hampering their attempts at reaching that level of "self-sustainability" conservative people are so fond of using.

was there a conspiracy against black folks? i think initially there was an active attempt to keep black folks in their "place". once the handicap was established, the active participation in the oppression was unnecessary. i mean really, once you cut off a person's feet, do you really have to worry about sticking rocks in his shoes to prevent him from being competitive in the race?

so again i ask the question...when does empowerment become self-evident? if it truly came at birth, it would have been damn near impossible to keep black folks enslaved, nor would it have been so easy to keep them oppressed afterwards. if it were truly about a person's abilities, absent of the racial or other obstacles in her way, there wouldn't be nearly as many black folks living at or under the poverty line.

and if empowerment is indeed known from birth and it's all about a person's abilities and nothing else, the most obvious answer surrounding black folks not succeeding on the whole in america must be our total and complete lack of intellectual ability and desire to succeed.

in other words, it's our fault and our fault alone.

my little niece

she's the color of god's love
skin tinged golden by the enflamed fingers
of the sun
lips kissed in rose petals
and eyes so clear and blue you
can see your soul drowning in them
she is my love
my life
my niece

there is good news and bad news...

the good news is that one of my football fantasy teams is so spectacularly horrid my decision to put brunell on the bench in favor of orton didn't matter, cuz i'm losing by 44 points anyway.

oh wait...that's the bad news, too.

*sigh*
____________________

i was at a card party friday night. had two rum and cokes, two puffs of weed, and ended up on the bed upstairs sleeping after puking my everything but my intestines and my heart out. *note to self: just cuz you've been offered weed, doesn't mean you should take it, especially if you haven't smoked weed in over seven years..."

*second note to self: try eating food before you down two big ass cups of rum with a splash of coke in 'em. an 8 oz bag of doritos ten hours prior to your first drink just ain't enough.
_____________________

saturday was spent avoiding people while i recovered from friday night. i watched uga lose, ga tech get its ass handed to it, and lsu put the sneak up beat up on alabama. sunday i spent setting up my fantasy league teams, watching the nfl on cbs and fox, and reading.

in other words, a completely unproductive yet most satisfying weekend.

oh yeah...r.i.p. eddie guerrero.

shit

my woman's intuition totally stinks.

football sunday...it's about damn time!

i've been waiting on you for six days! what took you so long???

aiight, now that you're here, i'm all excited and my clit is throbbing...what you gonna do about it? before you go nibbling at my nipples, help me out here. i've gotta decide if i should start mark brunell or kyle orton on one of my fantasy league teams. i know what you're thinking...on paper it looks to be an easy choice, right? brunell has twelve touchdowns and only three interceptions while orton has seven touch downs and nine interceptions. why am i waffling, you ask.

well if you look a little closer you'll realize brunell is playing against tampa bay this week. yeah, THAT tampa bay. the guys with the second-ranked pass defense, having only allowed THREE passing tds the entire YEAR so far. let's not forget to add the fact that with chris simms being his mediocre self, the game is bound to be a low scoring affair with alot of running and very little throwing. i doubt brunell tosses more than a touchdown.

meanwhile orton is playing against san francisco. SAN FRANCISCO FOR GOODNESS SAKES. they've got the WORST passing defense in the LEAGUE, having given up 17 passing tds. only sorry ass tennessee has given up more (18). sure kyle only got me what, three points last week? sure i traded away my top running back for brunell a couple of days ago. so what if brunell has santana moss? orton has muhsin muhammad! remember that guy? he's the one who was catching all the td passes last year in carolina when steve smith went down. surely that gives orton the chance to really put up some hellufied numbers today, right?

damnit, i'm going with my woman's intuition here. i'm putting in orton. if i suffer as a result of this move, so be it. you'd better hope i don't lose, though. you know how NOT in the mood i become when my teams lose.

in fact, don't fuck with me until the games are over. while i don't mind giving you a blowjob at any other time, i refuse to be distracted from today's games. well, maybe i can be distracted for a moment, but ONLY during halftime, and i'll only swallow if you promise to cook dinner later.

why don't teachers live in the areas where they teach?

inspired by organized noise, a blogger of brilliant proportions, i was forced to think about something that has created alot of arguing between my teacher friends and i. from time to time i hear them complaining about how long their commutes are, ranging from thirty minutes to an hour, to their jobs. they also complain to me about how little they know and understand their students, telling me how the parents never come to meetings with them and basically play an absentee role in the academic lives of their children.

while i can definitely relate to the frustration, having mentored children from these same areas, i can't help but wonder if part of the problem lies with the teachers themselves. how effective can a teacher be in a child's life when that child only sees the teacher for eight hours a day? i know as a mentor i only have limited influence with my kids because i only have a couple of hours during the week and eight hours every other weekend to spend with them. in the 18-20 hours i spend with them weekly, 5-10 of those hours are spent trying to reverse the negative effects they experienced as a result of their chaotic home lives. many times i will have to give the same speech over and over again, trying to convince them of their own power to succeed in spite of the difficulties facing them. in fact, i try to turn it around and tell them they can succeed because of the difficulties facing them, tying their obstacles to the tenacity they've already proven they had because they were finding a way to survive in a difficult situation.

i don't live in their neighborhood, so for the first couple of months it was hard for me to get through to them. they are surrounded by adults who come and go in their lives after short stays, and they have no reason to believe i will be any different. there was one girl in particular who was having a rough go of it. tiara was like a brown teardrop, forever falling from the disillusionment pooling in her mother's eyes. she was round like a bell, and her voice rang loudly, usually with a note of self-disgust she had no idea of how to define. when she first started coming to the clubhouse, she was a constantly disruptive force, her anger an explosion of self-loathing that left shrapnel embedded in everyone around her. her words were so sophisticated in their calculated delivery, i was sure she had heard those same words hurled at her on a daily basis from her mother. i would always counter her attacks on herself with words of encouragement, trying to get her to see her own worth. the problem is that her time with me could not completely negate what she had to deal with when she got home.

and therein lies the crux of the problem. home was and is no haven for her, and it's not a haven for many of the children who come to school to hear adults tell them they know what's best for them. strangers they have sporadic contact with throughout an eight-hour period before the kids are put on buses and sent to homes in neighborhoods where the majority of the adults are either working eighy hour a week jobs or plying their trade on the corners, leaving them with little positive contact with adults. the fact of the matter is that these neighborhoods are the places people move away from, not to. folks who could provide a varied set of role models for these kids move out of the neighborhood as soon as humanly possible, leaving blue collar workers on the low end of the pay scale and folks gaining their material goods through illegal means.

now this isn't to say that blue collar workers aren't good role models. in fact, i think the empowerment of those communities begins with acknowledging the strength already there, manifested within those folks as they find a way to get up everyday and go to work a job(s) that barely keeps the bills paid. however, it must be a difficult task for the citizens of those communities to find worth within the inhabitants there when everyone is always so intent on moving away, as if to say those communities are nothing but cesspools of ignorance, laziness, and poverty.

the message sent to those left behind in these communities is that there isn't anything there worth staying for, worth fighting for. that message is read loud and clear by the children there, and having folks coming from outside of the community to teach them creates not only a sense of resentment among them, but also feeds into the low self-esteem they have because those folks, due to their lack of knowledge about the community and its challenges, are quick to label these kids in a negative manner.

i can't tell people how to live their lives. all i can do is provide an example through my own actions. while i still do not live in the community where i mentor, i have done alot of volunteering in the area in an attempt to immerse myself within the community and embrace the challenges facing it as my own. whether this is a solution to teachers breaking down the walls erected between them and the children they teach, i'm not sure. however, i know for me that gaining an intimate knowledge of these communities can only help in not only empowering the inhabitants, but also in breaking down the invisible walls currently erected that has isolated them and their problems from those who are already empowered enough to assist them.

ultimately, we all have to ask ourselves what our priorities are. if one of the priorities is to empower black folks to find success and happiness for themselves, then separating ourselves from those folks most distant from that goal cannot possibly aid in the goal of empowerment, yet many of us do it everyday without conscious thought. when we leave our neighborhoods to shop at the "good malls", send our kids off to the "good schools", move ourselves and our families into the "good neighborhoods", the "bad" malls, schools, and neighborhoods don't just disappear. they become worse as a result of our absence. they become neglected as a result of our inattention and those folks who are not yet if ever empowered enough to leave those areas for "better" will continue to suffer and give birth to new generations of folks who will continue to suffer.

so this isn't just about teachers not living in the areas where they teach. it's about police officers not living in the areas where they arrest the majority of their suspects, business owners not living in the area where they sell their products, and others who benefit financially from the same communities they deem not good enough to live in.

and as long as the pattern continues in this manner, i guarantee those communities will never improve, and as much as black folks would love to say we've "arrived", there is still almost half of our population living on less than $25,000 a year, so in the end, one really doesn't have to look far to see a black community struggling.

friday photo - view from my office window

what a fucked up week this has been. glad it's the weekend. the end.

what is her fucking problem with me???

i have a co-worker who has been trying to get me fired for over a year now. it wouldn't be much of a deal if not for the fact that my boss appears to be siding with her. today i was told that i filled out my timesheet incorrectly. it would appear i was out of the office one more day than i documented.

"according to whom?" i asked.

"Diane has you documented as being out two days last week," he answered matter-of-factly. i just look at him dumbfounded.

"i was out only one day last week," i responded. my head was starting to hurt at this point.

"well, she says you were out on november 1," he countered.

"um," i breathed, trying to calm my anger down as it reached monolithic proportions. "wait here for a second." i walked back to my office and pulled up my email, scrolled to the date in question, then printed out all of the emails i sent that day from my work address. then i walked back to his office. diane was in there talking to him. it appeared they were discussing something, so i walked in and stood right in the middle of the conversation to make sure it wasn't about me, then walked out and back to my office to wait until they were finished. i sat down and racked my brain trying to come up with other proof that i was here that day, but could come up with nothing.

as i walked into his office a couple of minutes later, i handed him the emails.

"all of these emails were sent out from my office on the day in question, including this one email sent to you." i sat down and looked him straight in the eye. he hesitated. i sat back in the chair, crossed my legs, and waited.

he sat there looking from across his desk at me like he didn't know what to say.

i continued waiting silently.

"ahem...," he started. "well, we just want to make sure there aren't any discrepencies like last time."

oh yeah...last time. when, after two weeks of vacation, i returned to the office to find out diane has sent him an email telling him i'm not to be trusted and that she can verify that i'm lying on my timesheets. she then demanded i be fired or she would quit. and all of this went down because one of her friends (another co-worker) was having her hours cut because nobody could find a place for her within their projects. it was at this time when i realized just how nefarious the bitch could be. up until then dan and i had had the perfect supervisor - subordinate relationship: he didn't fuck with me, and i didn't fuck with him. i did my work, and as long as it was done, he let me do my work and treated me like an adult. he never wondered about whether or not i was in the office because whenever he called, i was there. whenever someone needed something, i was there. whenever his supervisor stopped by our area of the building, i was, more times than not, the only mothafucka IN the building. but that's neither here nor there, because the doubt of a jealous bitch has suddenly put all of that into question.

i continue staring at him, waiting for him to continue. i didn't have shit to say and i was't gonna make this any easier on his pussy ass.

"well, just make sure you fill out your timesheet accurately." he looked angry, probably because he knew he was looking like the idiot he is.

"i've been doing just that, dan." the only muscle moving on my body was my mouth. i was tense beyond relief and so fucking pissed i could pee into his mouth. he was silent a moment more as we both stared each other down. then he spoke again.

"also, make sure you come in on time."

oh no the fuck he didn't. i sat up and my face formed a professional frown. you know the look: eybrows scrunched down just a bit, lips pursed ever so slightly, and the perplexed look glazing over the eyes ever so lightly.

"dan, has someone been saying i'm coming in late?" i hated playing this fucking 'who could possibly be telling you this bullshit' game, but i wanted him to tell me if someone was telling him more lies.

"i have diane watching the floor in the morning," he responded, as if that answered my question.

"well, has diane told you i've been late? cuz i haven't been late for MONTHS." i sat back in the chair again, waiting for the punk to speak.

"you're supposed to be in at 7:30 a.m., so if you're here by then, you're on time."

what kind of fucking answer is that? is he speaking some foreign "supervisor language"? do i need to go to the barnes and noble and purchase "double-talk for dumbies'? i decided right then i was never, EVER gonna seek out a management position with this group of spineless bastards.

"dan..." i started off slowly, figuring he must have had a couple of drinks before he came in this morning. i pulled on the question like taffy, giving him a one second pause between each word so he had time to digest the question.

"did.diane.tell.you.i've.been.coming.in.late?" surely this is a yes or no answer, right? evidently not in 'ass-supervisor world'.

"if there was a problem with your tardiness, i would have addressed it with you by now."

so why the fuck did you even need to mention the necessity for me to come in on time? really, if there is no problem with that, why was it even brought up? i just stared at him for another minute, then stood up.

"gotcha." no need to even add to it. i walked back to my office, which meant walking right past diane's office, which just so happens to be between dan's office and mine. no doubt she probably heard at least part of the conversation.

so now i'm sitting here at my desk, wondering, as black tokens everywhere have wondered at one time or another, if it's really worth all of the drama of filing a grievance when the only evidence i've got is a woman who hates me for no reason and a supervisor who doesn't trust me.

martin luther king...if you're listening...it still ain't nothing but a mothafuckin dream.