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...