Sometimes A Loss Transforms into A Gain

Wow...It has been almost a month since the last time I posted something. Well, here I go again!

Two days ago a man I barely got to know passed away. That man, you could say was my grandfather. He was my stepmother's father, but he also called me his grandchild, like she calls me her child. While emotions regarding death are very minimal to me, I simply thought about how I had just seen him on the 4th of July talking loudly and sitting in his chair. This made me emotional. It seems that every person who passes in my life I use the excuse of "Oh, we were not close enough for me to actually be sad", and I attempt to move on, but his death has sparked memories of the deaths of those that I simply attempted to move on from, but couldn't. From my own mother, my grandfather, my aunt, my stepmother's mother, my grandmother, and finally my grandfather.

So, last night at about 2 a.m. I stayed up pondering why? Why is there a disconnect with EVERYONE in my life. Why do I stay so far away? But, why is it when something disastrous happens I am always bombarded by disbelief and a sense of grief? I partially feel that when my mother passed when I was seven years old, I simply tucked my feelings away in my pocket of life and moved on. I never believed that she was truly dead, instead I felt she was still here somewhere watching me, guiding me, within me. To be honest the other people who passed away I was never close to. But, maybe I failed to be close to prevent another loss. I was afraid of my aunt and my father's father and when he passed I actually dreamed that I was at a funeral and then my father woke me up and told me that my grandfather had passed away. Then when my stepmother's mother passed I remembered crying, but because we were not that close, again, I was not significantly affected by her death. When my grandmother passed it was sort of the same circumstance. I do still often cry over her because I am angry with myself about my failure to grow close to her. And, now my "grandfather"! Wow, you were a feisty person and I LIKED IT! And, while I am sorry that you are not here I know that your memory will live on.

I can no longer embrace these people in a physical fashion, but I can embrace them mentally. And, although I failed to have their backs on numerous occasions, I KNOW they will always have mine. Their souls will be my guides through life. So, now I have not one or two I have SIX angels pushing me through all of life's strife. From my "grandfather" I get my opinionated manner, from my grandmother I get my quest for knowledge, from my "grandmother" I get my grace, from my aunt I get my spirituality, from my grandfather I get my suave-like tastes, and from mother there is nothing to take because we are already one in the same.

So, for those of you who become overwhelmed with grief or sadness after the passing of a loved one, just remember that sometimes a loss transforms into a gain.

For You, I Have Chosen To Speak

"For those of us who live at the shoreline

standing upon the constant edges of decision

crucial and alone"...

I will speak constantly trembling with fear,

but I WILL SPEAK!

Sharing stories with you

about the tortuous episodes experienced

by My Black sisters-young and old.

Of course there have been others tortured and mutilated,

but it is Our time to say STOP!

Why must WE fight each other

when they want us to die alone?

I'm sorry My tunes did not match Your rhythms,

and that My tonality lacked Your urban swang,

but there was no reason for You to ask for My silence.

Simply because I am of a lighter pigment

does not mean We are not one in the same.

We must speak.

We must speak...

Together.

They constantly rebuke Our struggle and attempt to redefine Herstory

when they are written all over Our faces.

Tears that won't bother to dry.

Wrinkles of worry carved into Our melanin-drowned skin.

But they say We're just angry, no reason, just angry.

There are answers. We should clue them in.

they have transformed Us into to aggressors

attempting to question the oppression

We have been forced to endure.

When they look into their mirror's of life

there are images there waiting to be set free,

but when We look We are taken aback by the invisibility

of what it means to be:

Young, Black, and Female.

Sister's it is time to reflect upon Our misfortune

and capitalize on the Women We claim to be.

So, I have chosen to speak...

"For those of us who live at the shoreline

standing upon the constant edges of decision

crucial and alone."

Quoted words by Audre Lorde

Just Let Your Soul Glow...

The Cleansing of My Soul...

So, yesterday concluded an entire week off of work and free from any true obligations. I must say I had a chance to live my life the way that I would like to live it everyday. I discovered new sides of myself that I always knew existed, but that I never had the chance to hone. From painting and redecorating a room alone to writing and reading so much I almost transformed into to a human-lexicon. I also realized that sometimes your time should be spent in silence and solidtude, away from the other occupants of this earth, even if it is only a couple of hours to really immerse yourself into what you love. But, in terms of spending time, I also learned to cherish the relationships that are the most dear my heart. Sometimes we forget how much having a person to talk to and to share the most troubling and triumphant moments of life with truly is; it is the greatest gift life can offer. So, for my very dear companionships, friendships, and familial relationships I am thankful because good people are rare gems. Now, back to the painting, drawing, and writing. It is during this time that I feel the most enlightened and spiritual. I feel a connection that is outside of my usual existence. For me these things, equate to doing yoga for hours. Oh, to be free... Afterwards, I am so calm or zen-like. But, don't get me wrong, I am fully aware that ignorance and destruction still pervades my surroundings, but through the previously spoken of relationships with my significant other, my bestfriend, my father, my brother, and my step-mother, as well as, my drawings, writings, and my paintings, I am able to cope and just BE. These things provide for me a type of cleansing that no spa can provide.

In the midst of darkness I grow wings and become the woman I really want to be....superwoman.

Initial Question: Have you ever thought about things that you would say or do at night that are extremely courageous, but in the morning the timid you reappears? Consequently, all of those thoughts disappear. Well, maybe it is just me, but I am tired of this. I would honestly like to be this superwoman that I transform into during the evening and continue being her during the day.

Here is an example. At night when lying in my bed, I often think about saying things to people that during the day I am often too afraid to say.

My manager is often an asshole. He does things to me and says things, often behind my back, that he could probably be fired or written up for. At night I would simply like to tell him to KISS MY ASS! No, really, I actually imagine vividly when I could just say this to him. I also imagine myself telling him, "I have so many degrees that TECHNICALLY I could be your boss and your bosses boss. So lay off and quit being naive about who you really are: a racist, sexist, man who is in denial of his true sexuality (Be True To THY Self and Maybe you will be happier)". But, again when I wake up all the words are simply lost.

I think from now on I will just write my feelings down at night when my body transforms into this omnipotent being with a cape and then i will wake up in the morning and speak my mind. Tactfully!:)

The Art of Giving Her The Finger

Today as I approached 696, continued to drive down 696, and exit onto Woodward Avenue, I engaged in a verbal altercation with another African-American woman. As I write this I feel somewhat embarrassed that I let her anger me enough to thrill her by calling her a ugly-ass bitch, along with flicking her off. Hey, I was mad! So what happened, just in case you wanted to know, she would not turn on the green turn signal because she was too busy conversating on her cell phone. Consequently, I honked the horn and she gave me the finger. This angered me, because I had already been almost side swiped on Eight mile. As we were both driving down the free way she continued to call me a bitch, flick me off, and blow kisses for about two miles. Everytime I sped up, she did the same. When I slowed down, she did the same. She apparently was attempting to really annoy me. Ironically, we both got off on Woodward and ended up side by side. My chance had finally come. I could attempt to belittle her as she tried to do to me or I could just keep driving. I chose the former, I yelled as loud as possible, "You Ugly Ass Bitch! Learn How To Drive!" This was followed by my gift to her of viewing my middle finger and her being stuck there as I drove away. As good as it felt at the moment, I simply feel like an idiot now! I now realize that stooping down to the level of someone who is apparently ignorant serves no significant purpose. She will still live her life being the ignorant female who chose to flick me off because she was alerted to turn on a green light.

My Happiness..

Colorful bangles, photographs from unusual angles, historical books, Lupe Fiasco hooks, equality-driven power movements, my lexicon, looking at Jon, people nodding their heads as if to smile, dirty soy chai's, exclaiming "see you later!" instead of "bye", lip-singing Badu's Danger with Heather near by, seeing my father's face, remembering my grandmother's grace. Going to noodles for seasoned tofu, ambient music played without haste. Hoping that one day the power movements mentioned earlier will be a thing of the past. The thought of cars that don't use gas. The elderly couple as they walk past. Little childrens voices. Free-spirited individuals who are content. These things make me happy.

You Are Not Extinct

They say you are extinct; Dying off.

Many believe you are simply non-existent.

You leave babies in a poverty stricken state.

You make your so-called baby-mama's wait.

The good in you, they say has gone away.

Some say you never existed in the first place.

As the image withers into some bleak dissapearance

I rush to recall the memories of you.

As a child I remember running with you;

You nudging me in the right direction aiding me to walk with a swagger,

A character that only you could possess.

You led by example, teaching me to climb high.

I fell numerous times, but looking back I can honestly say I reached the top.

As the memory fades, I write to recollect my thoughts.

I activate my activism to resemble you as a black cat; a panther in my eyes.

You often pressure me into being a soldier like you;

Although you were forced to kill the innocent;

They sent you there to potentially kill you.

They did not love you.

But, I do.

They supported your extinction, but like the soldier you are,

You drafted a promise to yourself;

A promise to get out alive.

But they forced you, like I am forced, to stand strong for the cause.

Your soul almost faded then, eleven times to be exact,

but you came back even more courageous than before.

You are a lion; a natural king; my own personal Mufasa.

That said, you taught me to fight for my throne.

To become the queen of my own land outside of the presumed home.

Father.

My own personal Good Black Man, they say you are extinct; Dying off.

But, I believe you are resilient.

Yet, overlooked by a system that only portrays the negative.

You are my positive; my king, and the man that so many women dream.

Megan, My Dear

Here my dear, my dear Megan, here is a gift for you.

One that you will cherish forever more.

I found your innocence deep within my soul.

I would like to return it, but hold on to its memory.

After continously being told the stories of how your purity was torn

Or better yet stripped away from your precious body.

Shaved body, prickly with uneven hair, scarred from the cuts and scrapes.

They were not careful.

As objects of indecency penetrated your small frame.

They were not careful.

A mouthful of feces from a species you could not name.

They would never dare to do the same to themselves or others like them.

Now the F-Fuck B-Black I-Individuals will not even pursue your case.

Unless it was questioned in a different light it was simply not a matter of haste.

Your fate in the hands of the same people who perpetuated the death of MLK and let us not forget JFK when they simply wanted change.

No hate crime you state! But, oh it is.

Now, Megan hates herself!

The worst hate crime of them all.

Only twenty, but she hates herself.

How will she move on after being hit, spit, and peed on.

How can she recover from the racially biased epithets.

Tell me how she can begin to trangress from the life in which she has been subjected.

The object is she can not. At least, that's what they want you to believe.

But, my gift to you is your innocence and the will to know that you can.

You can, my dear Megan, become whole again.

Who's Independence Are You Celebrating?

Burned ribs, smothered with barbeque. Molasses covered baked beans, and mustard potato salad that hits the spot. Shit talkin', loud music broadcasted from WJLB, brother's rappin over instrumental's or simply rappin' about the stronghold life has over them. Later in the night, the gun-shots begin, some say M-80's, but we all know the truth. Then come the sparklers, I remember being rushed to the hospital for those damn hand-held sparklers's, that begin in the middle of the street and end up in the middle of the sky falling down to leave the residue and the smell of gun powder. And then, what happens?

On the fifth there are still a few families celebrating that could not the day before, but as a whole what exactly are we celebrating? Let's ask this again, what exactly are you celebrating if you are a woman, if you are of African-decent, Mexican/Latin-decent, and the list goes on. Why is it that those who are the first to celebrate something fail to realize that the holiday they are partaking in was not meant for them in the first place? Well, now it is because those who are truly independent stay that way due to our dedication to buying hundreds of dollars worth of food, beer, pop, firecrackers, and ammunition which aids in their pockets getting fatter.

Indeed, the fourth of July can simply be a reason to congregate and to eat food that maybe you did not pay for, but ultimately this is not your celebration to have. But, I can tell you a few better dates, January 31st 1865, creation of the Thirteenth Amendment, officially outlawing slavery, February 3rd 1870 , The ratification of the 15th Amendment giving African-Americans the right to vote. February 10th, 1964, the implementation of the Civil Rights Act, August 26th, 1920, when women gained the right to vote or June 23rd, 1972, when women officially were given the right to have/get an education under Title IV. I wonder what would happen if we celebrated on these dates for our true independence? Now, barbeque a pig for that!

I AM NOT Bipolar..It might be funny, but sometimes this is how I feel

I feel like SCREAMING! Like pressing release on my tape deck of life. I have all these preposterous thoughts inside me that refuse go away. All of you keep starring! Would you like to take a photograph to hold on to this memory? Wait stop! The walls are closing in...wait...why are you laughing at me? There are people around me, but I swear its like I have something caught behind my contact because they are simply a blur. Advice from this side and from that side, but what exactly are you advising me on. Even the lady in line at the bookstore is giving me advice. Oh, so your read one self help book and you think you can point me in the right direction? I just need to breath....breath, no for real, just breath. Count to twenty or something! You, I need you to just be; be my bestfriend, my stepmother, my father, or my significant other, but just be here for me. Like Jodeci once said, don't talk just listen. But what will you listen to since I have simply nothing to say. I can not exactly pin-point what is wrong, but I just feel like a ball of yarn, all wound up. If you prick me I swear I will probably burst. Some say depression, some say stress, and some say bipolar. I'm NOT Bipolar! Or, maybe I am... What ever the symptoms and diagnosis might be...I am just so damn tired... just let me do me and so now I BREATH...

Where Did The Love Go: Did It Ever Begin?

The arguments persisted. One voice over another. One man interrupting the woman next to him. One woman screaming at the top of her lungs because he would not let her speak. One man saying "I am not responsible for your kids!" and one woman saying "But, you are responsible for all of our children". Sounds like a repeated episode of Maury or Jerry Springer, but no it wasn't. It was Part II of "Where Did The Love Go: Hip Hop versus America". It's hilarious, but insulting all at the same time. Primarily, because this is what white America, the great five percent, want us and every other person who tunes into B.E.T. to see and then they want us to conclude that the stereotypical conclusions about African-American men and women are true. Men are loud, obnoxious, chauvenistic, and ignorant. The women are both loud and at times silent (due to their submissiveness), hot-headed, hoes, and sack chasers. Thank you BET for aiding in the degredation of our community once again! But, aside from the anger that has come out of an episode such as this one there were a few good things that came out it. Some of them are personal for my own knowledge building tactics and some are just general conclusions.

Our Distorted Past..

There is, indeed, a great divide in the African-American community. This divide stems from the very origins of what it means to be black in America. Now, of course there was misogyny which existed in Africa before Africans were brought here, but the misogynistic attitudes which personifies America's imperialistic nature persisted and was immersed in those who forcefully became Darkies, Porch Monkey's, Nigger's, Negros, and now, African-Americans. During slavery, the black male was utilized and commodified for his strength and endurance. The woman was utilized and commidified for her domestic and laboring abilities, as well as, her body. She was itemized as an animalistic creature whose primary purpose was to continously produce more male slaves by any means necessary. She was also objectified as her "Master's" sexual canvas. This created a great divide between black men and women and one which perpetuated a learned hate for the other gender. For the man, there existed envious, and betrayal-ridden thoughts. For the woman, there existed thoughts of helplessness and desertedness. At the end of the day, we were made to hate ourselves and each other.

So, lets fast-forward to the 1960's and 1970's...

The Civil-Rights Movement, which was when black men and women discovered their abilities to raise their voices and symbolically their fists to demand change from a America that provided nothing, but poverty and limited opportunities, also lurked with sexism. During this time blacks had leaders and groups that made it their job to speak out against racial oppression. It seems that we were united as one group and some changes would finally occur. But as you pick apart the layers of the Civil Rights Movements and black-power movements, at the center still lurked self-hatred and sexism. This is why Alice Walker, Angela Davis, Audre Lorde, and bell Hooks took a stand. If problems did not exist then there would be no need for a movement. They served as the catalyst, along with Sojourner Truth, for the black feminists or womanist movement. Mainly because within the Civil-Rights Movement women were simply supposed to be the buttress for the men who did the "real" work, thinking, protesting, etc.

Now, today...

Things have not really changed! So, for all of those who think that feminism is dead, YOU ARE Dead WRONG! We are just fighting a different battle, but the ground on which we fight is the same. Black women, as pointed out in the above mentioned program, are still the objects of sexism. Scratch that...they are still objectified! Black men are often the scapegoats of so-called problems within the media, but women are too. In the music industry and on the news, sex and violence sells mainly because those who buy these goods and buy into the broadcasts have been conditioned to consume such trash. African-American's, in turn, utilize rap to find a way out of the traps that they have been forced into. The millions that they generate symbolically aids in dismantling those traps, but not realistically. Truthfully, those traps still exist because these same artists, if you even want to call them that, aid in building or perpetuating the next black woman's or man's struggle. They literally rap about "trap or die" and those who view this, who have no other choice, take the bait, but usually they die because they do not have a skill such as rapping, and in some venues playing sports, that they can utilize to generate cash and get them out of their newly created trap.

For the woman, they are also pushed into a trap. When we view music videos created by black and white rap or r&b artists the women are personified as objects. Objects that are to be seen, but not heard. So, when the little girl who is home alone, because her mother is working her second job or watching right along with her, is watching Lil' Wayne's video and begins singing "Lick, Lick, Lick,...Like A Lollipop, She Said It's So Sweet, She Want's To Like The Rapper" how does her mother explain that one. She also is bombarded with images of personalities such as Deelishis shaking her ass around the television. Oh...by the way, Deelishis was on the program as well. So for a child who knows nothing else, but rap videos and video girls and realizes that they 'seem' happy what should she do? She probably emulates that which she sees on television.

To conclude, the media is not the sole problem, which exists in the African-American community, but it is a major problem. African-Americans, as a whole, are damaged and most of us have not found ways to undue the pain. Most of us fail to even recognize that we are a hurt People. So, how can a man respect me if he is in a constant state of denial and is not aware of his history and his forced oppression? How can I respect her if I have not come to love myself and who I am? How can we love each other if we have yet to embrace our history and move forward TOGETHER towards the future? So in response to the title of BET's program, "Where Did The Love Go?", I ask, When did it begin?

All and all, B.E.T. set out to make a difference, but it simply aided in perpetuating erroneous stereotypes about African-American women and men. But, the one thing I pride it on is that it catalyzed conversations...conversations such as this one, which I hope will continue.

Cherish The Day

You've got this look I can't describe,

You make me feel like I'm Alive,

Whenever everything else is a fade,

Without a doubt you are by my side.

Thanx, Ms. Rae

This weekend I have come to the realization, with the assistance of some people and other things, that love in the black community and in general is hard to come across, but when you stumble upon it it is important to remember that it something to be cherished and preserved especially when it is very rare. I have come to realize that regardless the type of relationship it might be, female and male, male and male, or female and female, it is very difficult to come across those who possess the total package...not that people are packaged up to be commodified, but it is true. So, when you meet someone who is intelligent (not smart, but intelligent), driven, spiritual (not religious, but spiritual), confident, goal oriented, sometimes it helps if they are attractive to YOU (lol), and SINGLE, cherish them as a friend first and as your significant other half second. Then maybe the words of Corinne Bailey Rae s will represent how you feel.

Daily Ramblings Part II...The Coffee Shop Experience

Today, the majority of my day actually, has been spent at this little cafe in Hamtramck. And, it makes me feels so chill. In fact, I haven't felt this way in a very long time. I discovered that besides my fav Soy Dirty Chai's that I also enjoy Soy Caramel Latte's with Caramel drizzle on the top. I also discovered for about the fifth time that I can listen to smooth/sultry music by southern artists like Erykah Badu and Tweet (Don't Sleep On Her First Album) and British artists like Corrinne Bailey Rae, Adele, and Amy Winehouse (Eventhough I am a little angry with her right now) and never get tired of them. It's just this vibe that you get when you can just chill and write or chill and read and sip simultaneously. This is just great! Im serious! I also like to people watch because people are so unique. That is what makes this coffee shop the best one I have been to ever. First of all, Hamtramck is very unique due to its diversity. This coffee shop could serve as a microcosm of the entire world. To my left there is this Polish middle-aged guy who is reading the sports section of his newspaper and next to him is this African-American middle-aged woman with dreads down her back reading a book. At the counter is a Caucasian lady, I don't really know of what race she is, but she just ordered a coffee of some sort. And then, there's Heather and I. If you know us you know that we are very diverse or rather unique in nature, which just goes along with the demographics of this coffee shop. And, to top it all off, the freakin' barista is nice as hell, you don't get that everywhere-especially not Starbucks, but they are not to blame (me included because unfortunately I work there) because they more than likely hate their jobs. Hey did I mention that they have tons of artwork all around, a library, and an enclosed patio that you can just relax on. And they play their own awesome music, I heard Maxwell and Blue Six, and that's the shit! Well, I'm about to get a salad and prepare to read my poem for open-mic night, but maybe you should visit sometime! It's called Cafe 1923 and it's on E. Holbrook about a mile from I 75.

Peace

Ain't I A Woman? The Answer--It's Poetic

In response to someone asking: Where are all the black feminists?

Response:

Raised Fists, Bronzed and Goldened

Grazed Afros, Blackened, But Sometimes Grayed

Dark Stares At The Bronzed Faces Thirst For Change...

That's When My Foremothers Came

That's When The Lives Of The Dually Oppressed Became

Firmly Dedicated To Asking: Aint I A Woman?

Soujourner, Assata, Angela, and bell

I'm Sure They Felt That With No Rights Life Was Near To Hell

That's When Raised Fists Became Moist With Sweat and Cramped From Anger

When Tears Formed The Question: Ain' I A Woman?

Lurked Deep Within Hearts Which Were Torn

Flowed, Those Words, Those Words They Flowed, Through Their Lungs

To Their Lips Tasting The Sweat Tinged Tears...

So, I Ask: Ain't I?, So, She Asks:Ain't She, So, We Ask: Ain't We...WOMEN?

Sit-ins, Protests, Speeches, Novellas, Anthologies, Too Many Damn Apologies

For The Exiles, The Denials, The Oppression, The Possession, And The Obsession

With Neglectin' Me...Because I Represent We!

Asked Once Where Did All The Black Feministas Dissapear To?

Well, By Which Medium Are You Attempting To Steal A View?

Because I, Better Yet, We Are Still Professing Their Names.

Now, Their Stories and Glories Are Our Ammunition To Continue Asking:

Ain't I A Woman?

Their Trials and Triumphs Are Our Catalysts For Change.

It's Just Somethings Resemble The Same Games But, Simply Decades Away.

From Being Called Mammies, To Prostitues, To "Welfare Queens",

To Booty Shakin' Video Hoes Chasin' HIS Green...

Things Haven't Changed If You Asked Me!

We Don't Fight Together Anymore, Or Maybe We Never Have, Only Each Other

The Answer:

The Real Change Comes From Both Our Sisters and Our Brothers...

Smoking Cigarettes...To Be Free

Au·then·tic –
adjective
1.
not false or copied; genuine; real: an authentic antique.

What is this about? Well...lately I have been feeling as if I was in some sense of a false reality. Like the life I am living is somewhat fake and the life I want to live by is somewhat distant and unreachable...So, I am now on a journey of authentication and realizing the truth about life and a real worldview. Life's little mysteries make you want to wake up, but when you do its like you are still asleep and you attempt to awaken yourself over and over and over again. So, how do you live a life that is genuine when what surrounds you is often imitated and superficial. Side note on authentic free-thinking: There is a lady outside of the locality in which I sit smoking a cigarette and drinking some iced drink and she looks free; free of complexity and anger. It seems that her thoughts are slowly perusing through her mind at their own free will, but yet she is slowly killing herself with this same freeness, but she hasn't a care in the world, she seems so free and that's the point she seems authentically free. I want to be free of labels, ie the black girl typing on her computer. I want to smoke a cigarette and be authentically free, but to me I would be filled with thoughts that keep me from letting go and simply being me. And, I would be plagued with the thought of the freely flowing nicotine filling my body which acts as a parasite to my left lung creating, twenty years from now, the beginning of my demise...SEE that's what I mean. I am not yet authentically free because every thought turns into another Negative thought which prevents me from being my true self. I am so uptight and afraid of change, but want change so badly. I want to be this free spirit, but I am not free. I am afraid of your judgement..even when I am probably not even being judged. I hate hurting people, but still I hurt them. I am against racism and sexism, but still I am not as outspoken against it as I should be! I claim I like to write, but I fail to write enough. I am against large-exploitive corporations, but still I work for one..which is killing me softly by the way. I buy books that I foresee reading, but never read them...this is not being authentic. So..it's time to do what I say and say what I mean! It's time to smoke that metaphorical cigarette that is eager to seep freedom and knowledge throughout my soul...Put simply its time to be authentically me!

Soy...The Conspiracy

So...I am heated and very disturbed at the fact that eating healthy is much more expensive than eating unhealthy food. Why is it that I have to drive anywhere between twenty to thirty minutes simply to find a health food store or a grocery store which caters to people who want to be sure they are eating either fresh, organic, or dairy free products. Why do we live in a world that prides itself on feeding us 99 cent quarter pounders, but laughs and blames us when we are overweight as if they urge us to do things differently. So why am I writing about this? Well, I just went to Seattles Best Coffee inside of Borders and ordered a cup of coffee and asked if I could have about an inch of soy to put in my coffee and the cashier attempted to charge me 55 cents as if I asked for a latte made with soy. Why isn't soy included on the condiment stand anyway, enough people drink it! And why are soy connoisseurs forced to pay extra for non-dairy products? It should probably be less if you ask me because it is guilt-free meaning no animals were harmed, poked, or proded just to formulate such a product. I wonder if people who are lactose intolerant who don't drink soy know that it could alleviate their problems...problably not... corporations don't want you to know that. Did you know that it is not natural to even drink the bi-product of another mammal...cows and goats...our bodies are not capable of breaking down the enzyme that is in milk properly. This consequently causes a heightened need to flagellate and have a bowel movement or the lack thereof.

But, lets talk about another food topic, grocery stores...why are liquor stores the new grocery stores in the city. Why do I have to drive so far just to get to a Kroger (not that Kroger is the best grocery store in the world), but why? And, why do the grocery stores in the city charge so freaking much for their products...at Kroger Boca burgers are like $3.50 at the grocery stores in the city they are like $4.09...I know the technical answer so save me with the explainations, but it is just simply ridiculous. In my eyes, corporations are attempting to kill those who live in urban areas slowly, but surely regardless of if it is through high-priced products or through the unsanitary handling of their products. Does anybody remember when Mayor/Player Kwame Kilpatrick attempted to place a food tax on fast food to try to put a stop on "obesity" in Detroit? I wonder if he ever took the time to look in the mirror? Or, did he even attempt to read a freakin' book? Why attempt to punish the people who go to these places because they constantly are bombarded with there advertisments on the television, radio, internet, magazines, and billboards and because many of the consumers of the fast food industry can not afford anything else? Why? Why? Why? Tax the freakin' corporation, but no you probably wouldn't do that because then you would stop profiting from the exploitation of the lower class. A class that Kwame and many other politicians probably originated from.

Well that's enough!

The Revolution Will Not Be Televised...The Revolution Is Here

Have you heard of Reverend Edward Pinkney? Hmmm, the answer is probably not and the reason is probably because the news media only televises what they want to. Did you realize, you Michigan residents, that Benton Harbor, Michigan is largely segregated in 2008 by a river? Did you know that 90% of it's African American residents are poverty stricken? Hmmm, probably not! See what they want you to believe is that those who are overwhelmingly impovershed are this way by choice and by disproportionate laziness, but see the TRUTH about the matter will Never be televised.

You see, in Barrien County, a county which encompasses Benton Harbor, Michigan, WhirlPool Corporation is attempting to practice a little thing called gentrification or the taking over of impoverished land and replacing it with new thriving businesses and residences. The only problem with this is that there are people already living on this land that will probably never be able to afford the new residences! So, our previously mentioned friend, and he is our friend, Reverend Pinkney spent his days protesting against these acts because the majority of the people who stayed here were..yes you guessed it...African-American. Pinkney also protested against unjust killings, sentencing, and trials of African-Americans from this area. Long story short, Pinkney, in the past, participated in activities such as voter registration drives and polling assistance, but the Barrien County court sytem found him guilty of 4, lets count 1, 2, 3, 4, felony counts of interferring with absentee ballots even when evidence showed that these allegations were false. This all happened when a certain candidate, Glenn Yarbrough who planned to lead this expansion of WhirlPool, lost in the election by 54% , but due to the allegations he got a chance to reelected and won.

Unfortunately, Reverend Pinkney still sits and jail! For more information read the linked article and to donate to help in his appeal refer to the listed blogspot site.

Related Article: www.solidarity-us.org/node/525
Donations: http://bhbanco.blogspot.com

Dear Mom...I Miss You,

So it has been exactly twenty years, give or take a week, since you passed away and I simply miss you! Although we might be crying or reflecting sadly I am sure you are happy somewhere watching Carlton, Kevin, Richard, and I and everyone who comes into our lives because remember they said you were just too nice. And although it might be difficult sometimes for us to deal with the many ugly realities of this world it is all transformed when we think of your angelic face and demeanor. I wondered if you noticed that you and I are similar in appearance..at least that is what I am often told. Don't worry, Richard your Dear, is just fine! He is the greatest father in the world and he is taking care of your baby girl. And, don't worry I know this world is filled with lies and deceit, but that is why I am educating myself and keeping you near to my heart to prepare for its defeat.

Well, with subsequent years come continious reflections...So, I'll reflect again this time next year

Nicole..Betty (You) In Your Prime

So Long Capitalism...Hello Harmony and Equality

I Wish...and You should too!

Unfortunately,we live in the Good Ol' US of A, which was founded on the ideas of free markets and individualism. It also makes its profit off of exploiting those who are continously marginalized. There should be a day honoring Native Americans, African Americans, other voluntary and involuntary immigrants, and others that have put up with the crap of those too narcisstic to realize that if it weren't for us, the United States of America would not exist. Preferably every day of the year! So, it is obvious that there is a major relationship between inequality and the practice of capitalism. This is due to the fact that capitalism creates 'hierarchies of domination', which serve as the basis of class systems and disproportionate amounts of poverty. Someone has to be on top (the rich, white, male five-percent) and someone must be on the bottom (the minorities..mostly African-Americans ).

So maybe you are asking... Ok, And?

But, that is the problem...why is this okay? Why are so many people in a state of denial? Why have we been coerced into embracing a government which is controlled by big business or billion dollar industries or corporations. Apparently, if it was worth the strife we would not be in a 9.5 billion dollar debt. We also, we meaning American citizens, would not support the utilization of our tax dollars that are being spent to fund a fake/made up war on 'terrorism', which is only aimed at gaining possession over an industry that is not ours to own in the first place. I mean damn corporations should heed the examples of those who poverty stricken...damn you can't own everthing! Now, yes the oil industry and the giants in control of it might be charging unjust amounts for the oil, but how much will your neighborhood Shell make from this sale? Hell, we keep going over there messing with them and killing those they consider 'collateral damage', but yet they are human beings just as we are! And dear American's are dying too! But, that doesn't matter since the majority of these Americans are mostly lower-class and people of color. Does it even matter that even when they are risking their lives in the name of the great Oil, they are still poverty stricken?

So what about Harmony and Equality...well unless you are white, male, and the wealthiest 5 percent of our nation then good luck with that one. Unless you plan to protest, lobby, petition, and boycott these corporations that are at the heart of capitalism and therefore at the heart of inequality and risk going to jail. That said, in a true harmonious and egaltarian society imprisonment is the small price you pay to gain equality for all. Hey... and guess what...Bush doesn't really matter because if we wanted to perform a mass takeover of Our government, and it is Our government, we could transform the status quo as we know it. Besides why is it that such a small percentage of people are controlling the remaining 95 percent. I think it is a matter of thinking out side of the box or the bun as my father states, as well as, some other corporation which thrives on serving us 'roach' meat because it can't be real beef for just 79 cents. Better yet, JUST THINK!!!!

And, before you get mad at me just realize the TRUTH hurts!

How Am I Supposed To Believe When...

Since I was a child I have questioned the existence of this person or spirit called Jesus or God. My bestfriend in high school always asked me to go to church with her and as we moved on to college she even joined a Christian fraternity...I just don't really think God or whoever would want anyone to be tortured in his or her name. But, back to childhood...so, when my mother died and then my grandfather died and the my aunt died...things really got complicated. I just did not understand why I should be praying to this being that took all of my loved ones away. I remember sitting in mass and/or service anywhere from one hour to three hours and focusing on the lion making noises in my stomach or the fact that I wanted to sneeze, but I did not want to interrupt the lady in front of me talking about how fine the pastor was. Now that I think about it, my father was a religious sceptic if you will; he went from being an Athiest to practicing some African religion that believed in giving double hugs to being a Baptist to being dead stuck in the middle somewhere. The thing I can recall for sure is that he always told me to make decisions about religion on my own without the force of others. So...I wouldn't exactly call myself an athiest, because then that would entail a label, but I simply can not praise another person or spirit that walked this Earth just as I have. There is also the little notion that Christianity was once a form of control during slavery in America and other places that colonization took place. Christianity and many other forms of organized religion are STILL utilized to control women and that simply does not work for me. And, it seems that followers of religion are confused...Who is it that you are exactly praising...God, Jesus, Allah, Jehovah, etc. So, how am I expected to believe when there is no proof, there are too many names to remember, and when the same God that loves me will also 'strike me down' for getting a tattoo or considers me worthless and too filthy to sleep in the same room as my significant other..oh, I mean husband...Lord forbid I sleep with a man I'm not married to, just because I bleed once a month. And, it takes more than a passed down script telling me that it is all Eve's fault that I have a period once a month! With all the sarcasm set aside...How is it really possible to believe?

Fathers, Brothers, Yoga, Iced Coffee, and Ms. Badu

Father's Day....A little unconfortable this year because my money was sort of funny, but he's still greatly appreciated. Side Note: My father raised me by himself since I was seven and twenty years later he is still the most courageous and praiseworthy person in the world. Richard Carter you are my hero!

So...I talked to my brother today and I am very happy. It's been about a year since I spoke to him last. The conversation, filled with giggles and sarcasm, was a breathe of fresh air. Thank you Carlton for reaching out today. You reached out at just the right time.

I did yoga for about twenty five minutes today and for a few minutes I thought I was going to pass out from an asthma attack, but I feel good now. I am also happy I took the time to stretch and do some cardio.

So...today I had my first attempt at iced coffee and let me just say I had three cups! It was GOOOOOOOD:) So long Starbucks!

Finally, I downloaded about two hundred songs to my iPod and I am happy about it. I now get to listen to an unlimited amount of Erykah Badu...her sultry/southern voice always makes my day!

Off to doing the presentation I have been procrastinating about for about 8 hours....