My Reading Child

I want my child to love reading. I want him (or her) to crave the smell of a new book and be excited by the prospect of what it contains.

I want my child to digest the books and be so sick with the stuff (s)he's learned that (s)he can' help but spew it onto the next lucky person, inflicting them with the desire to read, and so the cycle continues...

I'm gonna start when baby is in the womb, oh yes! I'm gonna buy those Dr. Dre. headphones, slip them bad-boys onto my belly as soon as the pregnancy test says: POSITIVE, and play books on tape/cd/digital whatever!

However it goes, I want my child to be a better reader than I, with a bigger imagination, and more importantly...a bigger library than mine.

MY DREAM (wait for it...wait for it...)

How Will You Make Your Exit?

There's an expression that says: "People come into your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime." You never really get used to the idea of people being in your life temporarily, but that's how it is. This part of our journey usually sucks, but you can take heart in the fact that sometimes it can be a good thing. Sometimes, people's time [in your life] runs out, there's just no more room for them, and it's better for them to move on. This is about moving on-- but from the perspective of one who is leaving.

 How do we go about making our exit when it's our time to leave? Is there a big to-do? Do we gracefully bow out? Or do we just quietly slip unnoticed out the back door? I suppose that answer depends on the dynamic of the relationship with the person being left.

Love
I suppose if the relationship was of the love persuasion and the well's run dry, it's a good idea to have "the talk." I'm not willing to go too deep into it. Sit down with them, say what you need and then hear what they have to say. Just make sure your bags, both physical and emotional, have been packed. 

Friendship
If it was a relationship with a friend, it's virtually the same as "the talk."

Everything Else

Here's where things get complicated[for me]. What to do when you decide that you feel the best way to leave a person, is to sneak out the back door? At first, I thought the idea was cruel and cowardly, but now I'm not so sure. Does closure really require conversation? Do you owe the person an explanation when you feel that getting outta dodge is what's best for you? Relationship dynamics are complicated, and people are even more complicated-er (lol). There are things in between friendship and love, there's stuff that's not even close to either, there's uncertainty, there's one-sidedness, there's the needless, the BS--and then there are exits. I think any of those reasons listed above is a good enough to "slip away" from the perpetrator.  Don't get me wrong, there may need to be some thought and consideration when it comes to the Love/Friendship but the EEBS seems to me to be whole 'nother ball game. People are driven to do ridiculous stuff when dealing with the EEBS, but why bother when you can just remove yourself? It removes any complication, (your) hurt feelings, and it sends a message...the EEBS is beneath you, and by the time the perpetrator realizes it, you're already gone. The (considerably lighter) journey continues.

Poem.

beneath all this dirt is a precious stone

a jewel to be crafted by experience

polished with wisdom

and made to shine in the light

somehow

world's worst black girl does pin-curl (badly)

"Ever girl should know how to fix her goddamn hair..."

But I don't.

I typically opt to let the stylists at Bubbles Hair Salon, trusted homegirls, and sometimes a small group of Seniors at the school where I work, fix my mop.  I'm not too sure why the hands that I was born with, lack the 'magic touch' when it comes to styling my own hair but excel when it comes to other things like, shelf-reading, typing, texting, and pulling brand new books from bookstore/library shelves.


Last month I'd visited Bubbles to get my hair washed and styled in order to attend my school's prom (as a chaperone). My typical hairstyle is curls via flat-iron. Sammi, my hairstyle goddess, did a bomb-azz job, as she always does--but the real task is upkeep. After hours of monitoring well-dressed teenagers dance, cry, take pictures, and mistake me for a fellow student, my curls and me head home to the mirror.

"Just follow the curl..."

That's what they tell me when they see I'm clearly daunted by the idea of pin-curling my own hair. I stand in front of the mirror and set to work, dividing my curls into sections and trying to follow the directions to ensure that they're safely fastened by my hair pins. On and on I go until all of my hair is pinned up into what, in my view, could been seen as an interesting-looking hair situation. With bonnet in place, I hope under the blanket and drift off to sleep.

The morning after...

After dragging myself out of my bed to get washed up and church ready, I pull off my bonnet and loose my hair from the pins. And what do I get? Weird ringlets that look little to nothing like the practiced works of art my girls can do. DRAT!!!

Back to the drawing board...or the hairstylist.

Single And Happy? Ya Don't Say?

It doesn't take much to find an article or two (or three, or four, or five, or six, etc) discussing the relationship plights of Black Women in the United States. The media, along with relationship 'gurus', books, blogs, and oftentimes other Black People, will spare no expense when it comes to informing us of just how uncoupled we are as compared to everyone else, and what we should do in order to make things better. We're instructed to "Act Like A Lady, Think Like A Man", be less 'independent', lower our standards in terms of financial or educational requirements, open ourselves up to interracial relationships[which is fine I might add]... and the tiresome list goes on.

Some weeks ago, I listened to a talk show featured on YouTube discussing the negative attitudes of black women, and the rampant promiscuity that the "vast majority" of us partake in. The host insisted that these are the contributing factors to our singleness. I  need to mention that when I learned about the show, I'd just finished reading Ralph Richard Banks' "Is Marriage For White People?" To say the least, Professor Banks' conclusions regarding our singleness were quite different, and steeped in measurable data. So--I emailed this [host]guy. Unfortunately, my request for empirical evidence to support the claims he made was met with a response (and what would go on to be a series of responses) that had naught to do with the original question. Bummer.

Let me be honest...I didn't respect the man for his intellect, or his advice, and it showed in my e-mails. Initially, I thought that was the reason why he opted to describe me as "miserable" but I think there's something else.  Granted,  the only thing more frightening than the Angry Black Woman is The Angry Black Woman who's looking for answers, I think it's fair to assume that beliefs like these stem from more than fear or irritation.  He went on to ask, "Do you think this is the first email like this ive gotten from a miserable, lonely, single, successful black woman???" Yes, he put three question marks. I don't want to go too deeply into the emails between me and 'Talk Show Host Guy' as that is not the point of this entry, however, it is very important for me to inform you of two things: 

1. According to this a**hat, "Nobody wants to be single." 
2. When I  asked him if he truly believes that statement, I got no response.

 This definitely got me to thinking about the social disparities regarding uncoupled Black Women.  I can't help but wonder, why do so many people on the outside think that being a single Black Women is something to be sad and/or ashamed about? Why is being married, or in a relationship considered to be a badge of honor? We've all heard the "See, that's why you single" and "That's why you ain't got a man" comments, we know these comments are designed to hurt, and often do...but why?

I wish I had the answer to these questions, I really do. On the other hand, what I do have are the things that contribute to my happiness

My friends keep me grounded and confident in the fact that everything is as it should be. They are not a single gal's support system; rather, they are living proof of how great I am. I mean--why else would such wonderful people bless me with their presence? I would encourage Sisters to cultivate relationships with their friends, not as a place holder, but as a necessary ingredient to a happy life, if having friends is your thing. It's definitely mine.

My dreams keep me motivated. There's always something to work towards. Every now and then, it's nice to look at pictures, plaques, certificates, messages, or whatevers, just to remind oneself of all the 'awesomeness' to be found on the inside, and that the world recognizes it. 

My career is so much of who I am. It's my contribution to the world and to my race. Really and truly, it's a joy to work in a field that you love. The opportunities are endless. 

My hobbies and the things that I enjoy are also very important to me. Oftentimes, I'm looking for something else to read, finding new music, checking out indie/underground movies, or learning about a country that I desire to travel to and then proceed to visit it. My 4Square friends will attest to my restaurant addictions and unquenchable desire  to explore new stuff. 

Earlier this year I established my "Princess Lena Days" when I dedicate an entire day to my pleasure and self care. I'll indulge in massages, buying books, yoga, meditation, driving aimlessly, perfume purchases, church, salon time etc. I'm not saying that this is only for single women, that'd be stupid. I'm saying, that being a Black bachelorette is nothing to lament...not when you have so much going for you. Now, if your income doesn't allot for this kinda thing, screw it, true friends don't cost anything and neither does self-love. If I had to chose, all that other stuff can kick rocks. 

I'm no advice columnist and I know what works for one doesn't work for all, but I think that when Voltaire said, "Let us cultivate our garden" he was speaking metaphorically about seriously undertaking the process of taking care of and being satisfied with oneself. It's hard work, but the results are beautiful, and they may at any given period feed someone...including the most important person of all. You. 


Signed,

The Happy Bachelorette

P.S.

Let there be a movement dedicated to dispelling the myth of the Single Black Women as a miserable monolith--one moron at a time.

The Good Words pt 2

I worship the God of my heart's deepest secrets.
I offer Him/Her the truth that I am weak, and in need
of His/Her grace.
Would (s)He postone the making of new worlds in order
to console me? Of course (s)He would--so I ask, please, stay
with me.

Act Like A Lady: The Problem of A Fiery Womb

About a year ago, I was having a conversation with my Sister about--you guessed it--men and our relationship to them as women. For the record and out of respect for feminists/womanists, I won't address myself as such in this blog, or anymore going forward until I become wiser. I am, however, a believer that men and women should be treated equally within both the social and private sectors. Now if I'm honest with myself, I'll admit  that my form of thinking can be a little more extreme and naive when compared to that of my sisters. In some respects, you could say that my opinions were (and sometimes still are) heavily influenced by Marion Zimmer Bradley's The Mists of Avalon in which the women were the central focus and wielders of power. That's unreal in this day and age, hell, it's been unreal for a very, very long time--I digress.


I am not a feminist. Let's just say that there's "fire in my womb." Anyway, somewhere in the conversation, my sister asked me: Lena would you put out the fire in your womb if you met the 'right guy'? I'm still not really sure what that means, but maybe she's asking if I would give up my Goddess Right mentality? Would I submit? Would I follow tradition and protocol?  I'll confess that I still ponder her question even now. I'm not the most "lady-like" woman you'll ever meet. I'd sooner spit on the ground than whip my hair. I like doing my share of stuff (like spitting and swearing) that's usually only considered socially acceptable if a dude does it. Why? Because I don't see why females can't or shouldn't--I take crap from females because of it, and that always puzzles me. *shrugs* I find it very liberating to be fiery and tough, to fight for the things I want, to protect and provide, to be in control, and to HULK SMASH obstacles. But, stereotypically speaking, that's a man's 'role'.

Stereotypically speaking, my "role" is to be emotional, nurturing/caregiving, sweet, supporting and like water. But, instead of water in my womb, I've been told there's too much fire. Would I give it up?

If I met someone that had the qualities that I want in a mate would I cease with the spittin' and swearin'? Would I allow myself to be protected rather than the protector(ess)? Would I want to accept his last name? Would I tap into the feminine power to give him what he needs from his woman?

Any fool would say 'yes.' And yet, I hesitate.

To be continued...