As most of you know, I am a fan of The Twitter. It's been a great way for me to connect with readers, new and old, and a fun method of staying in touch with friends from home, college, etc. I've both made and strengthened key personal and professional connections. It provides a nice piece of escapism and reminds me a lot of the conversations I had at Howard. And, as a performer who is currently 9-5'ing it it, I enjoy the living theater of Twitter. I been detailing mi vida loca on this site for years and now people can see it in real time.
While I enjoy the Twitter, I have some pet peeves that have recently sucked a lot of the fun out of the whole thing. Please let Twitter be great, guys. I don't want to quit it. I'm airing out my grievances, as I'm surely not the only one feeling them.
I am impatient and snippy about a lot of things. This is something I need to work on: being more tolerant of people's little habits. In the meantime, can you change the way you do things to suit my needs? Namely, asking dumb questions. Remember when your 6th grade teacher told you there was no such thing as a dumb question? She lied. She just needed some evidence before she sent you to the remedial class.
"Great question! I do not know how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop, Billy. Why don't you go ask the first graders? They've got pudding!"
Say @personA tweets "I love the new chicken restaurant in Fort Greene". A reasonable response from @personB is "Ooh, what's it called?" However, if @personA tweets "I love Mary's Chicken in Fort Greene", then @personB needs to go to WWW.GOOGLE.COM and find the address. People is not Google. Google is Google and they are good at it...ask Yahoo. Is your Google broke? Then ask Yahoo.
That was my inner emcee coming out, if you didn't notice.
If you want to hop into a Twitter convo you are lacking info on, it's fine to ask for a link of some sort. But it's even more fine to try and consult Google or even the timeline of the person in question before demanding information. Would you say to someone in real life "I see you are in the middle of a heated debate. Can you stop and tell me what it's all about, as I lack the resourcefulness to find out?" If so, it's likely that your lack of social graces probably make you as annoying a friend as you are a Twitter follower. *Kanye shrug*
I personally abhor small talk. I love talking...when there is something to talk about. I don't think most small talk is entertaining when you are engaging in it and I don't find other folks small talk conversations to be any better. Thus, I would not say that I am a fan of small talk on Twitter. "Good morning", "How's it going?", "What's up"...do we need to do that online? It's one thing, I suppose, to direct greetings to your whole 'Twibe'. But I just don't think the other people following me are interested in reading "I'm good. Just having a little coffee and crumpets as I braid my hair." That was boring for me to type. Wasn't it boring to read? If someone says "Fixing dinner and popping in a DVD", is it necessary to say "So, staying in tonight?" Isn't it a given? Why must you demand a boring response? Why must you kill the fun of the Twitter?
There is a false perception of closeness that seems to be pervasive on Twitter. It's totally understandable: you spend a good amount of time communicating with someone, you hear about their life, you commiserate, you bond. The two hours I spent glued to my computer awaiting news about Michael Jackson's health and learning of his death are something I will never forget. I wasn't with my mother or my best friend that day, I was "with" Twitter. Beyond such watershed moments, I have bonded greatly with folks from Twitter. I've made real-life connections and friendships, one of which I think will soon translate in to some life-changing, future-building tangible stuff. And I have communicated with people from different backgrounds and locales in ways that I would not have been able to do otherwise.
However, if your relationship with someone hasn't reached beyond @ signs, then you need to respect that. You can't approach a Twitter friend with the same expectations or demands for attention that you do your real life peeps. If you want to build something further, be it platonic, romantic or strictly business, then perhaps try reaching out beyond the timeline.
Be mindful: Twitter isn't MySpace or Black Planet...or is it? Is that what's next? While many of us were on those sites in the past and now regard ourselves too cool for them (I've long said that MySpace is the proverbial 'hood from which my blog grew up and now acts too uppity to return to), I can't imagine why Twitter (or Facebook, while we're at it) would need to become yet another site for weak macking and pandering for the attention of people who we'd never have the chutzpah to step to in real life. Again, relationship can be found anywhere. But be reminded that it isn't the reason for the Twitter season. And please keep the Mob Wars, pillow fights and whatever else coolness forsaken applications to yourself.
My parents are the most important people in my life. There are occasions when they call me and I hit the ignore button and call them later. They are aware of this and though it sometimes annoys them, they continue to love me (and give me the ignore treatment themselves from time to time). Now, I am grateful to anyone who takes the time to read the things I say online. And I appreciate anyone who shares their thoughts on something I've Tweeted. I read every response. However, I am unable to respond to every reply I get. It may be that three or four people have said the same thing and I can cover all of them in one reply. Or you may be asking me to clarify or restate something that I've already addressed as best I can. I may have gotten in to a one on one battle with another tweeter and simply can't lose traction on my train of thought. I might be on the phone, or with friends or just away from Twitter. It may be that I just don't have a response worth typing. Don't take it personal, seriously.
I have plans to document both my shenanigans and my "cause" work in print and on the screen. Thus, I have worked to create an audience. I am both humbled by and grateful for the number of people who have taken an interest in my life and my thoughts for the past few years. And while my online writing is both cathartic and therapeutic for me, I work to entertain, amuse, incite, enlighten and provoke my audience. I put thought into what I tweet, for the most part, and I think I've managed to develop the follower base I have because of that. I try to engage or acknowledge everyone who speaks to me, even if I can't do it every time they do. No shade, but if you need someone to respond to everything you say, I may not be the one to follow.
Whooosah! I feel better already. Undoubtedly, someone is now unfollowing me for being a self-aggrandizing bad Twitter person meanie-mo. But I ain't for everyone, y'all knew that. As a contestant on Top Model once said "This ain't called 'America's Next Top Best Friend'". You may do some of the stuff I named and still be a super awesome Twitter friend-in-the-head to me or to someone else. Hell, I know I'm guilty of Tweeting too much sometimes. But, um, can you please just stop the bad stuff? If not for me, then for me. Thanks.
Monday, January 04, 2010
Don't Disturb This Groove
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
I Won't and You Can't Make Me
Single Black Tragic Woman Theatre is in effect mode. The things we used to discuss amongst ourselves in Essence, in beauty shop and on ladies nights are now being placed on the national stage. The invisible woman got the whole world watching...and instead of celebrating her, they're trying to figure out why she can't get a man. How dreadful. How embarrassing. How wholly unsurprising.
I'm not linking any of these articles or news stories. They are easily found via Google. I'm not giving them any more hits. If a major network or paper wants to holler at ME, they can do that. Send some readers my way, pay me back for the mental anguish I have been caused for the past few weeks since you all have decided to make Black women look like a tragic and lonely monolith. Quote me, pay me, apologize...do something.
I don't hear anyone acknowledging how centuries of oppression and a systematic destruction of the Black man, woman and child could render us unable to love one another . All I hear is Black women who are successful are lonely because they are surpassing their men in class, outnumber them regardless of class and may be too picky. All I hear are people who got all the nerve in the world for trying to fix someone else who are telling me what I am doing wrong with my life. I am not comfortable with short sighted arguments for a subject as life altering as my chances of ever being married and starting a family.
What is REALLY burning my biscuits though is the tired advice being thrown at sisters and one suggestion in particular has me vexed. We are being told to date out of the race. This is problematic on a number of levels:
1) I believe that most of the sisters who want to date interracially have already started doing so without any one's permission or urging. This "advice" implies that sisters haven't the wherewithal to consider making this move until someone else tells them it's okay.
2) It's insulting to men of other races to pose them as a second prize trophy of sorts.
3) It's a slap in the face to sisters who have declared themselves to be loyal to Black men to hear "Naw, we good. Go on 'head, we don't care."
4) It disregards the fact that many Black women are simply not interested in dating men of other races.
I understand how numbers work. I get that if every Black man got married to a Black woman, there would still be some Black women left over. I get that while most Black men who marry will marry Black, they are more likely to try something else than we are. I even get that the media would rather harp over the tragic Black woman than to engage long term solutions for healing Black men so that the man shortage disappears over time*. I get all of these things, I accept them and I proceed with this knowledge.
What I do not get are the number of people, usually Black women and White men, who treat me like I am some short of racist leper for not being willing to date men of other races. I do not get the resentment thrown at Black women who do not choose to entertain non-Black men. If I unpacked my loyalty to our men and completely disregarded my father's wish to see me bring home a strong Black man like himself ...I still wouldn't be physically attracted to men of other races. If I were somehow able to change the latter, I'd be compromising my commitment to the former.
I've met a few White anti-racism advocates in my day who seemed more fascinated by Black culture than they actually were committed to ending oppression. They claimed to be so devoted to dismantling their White privilege, but when they found out my personal stance on interracial dating, I was no longer someone of interest to them. It seemed like they took it as a slap in the face. How dare I be unwilling to date White when they were willing to date Black? Surely the greater sacrifice was on their part, right?
Never mind the longstanding complicated relationship between Black women and White men. Never mind that I, like the men I speak of, am infatuated and in love with Black people and Black culture. Never mind my personal experiences with mixed race bloodlines and relatives I will never meet because I'm Black. If I don't open my mind to dating White or any other race of man beside my own, I'm just a close minded bigot, right?
Wrong.
When it comes to matters of race, one cannot reasonably compare the behaviors of the oppressed minority to the privileged majority. Lacking any racially assigned power in America, Black people cannot be racist. We can be biased ("Hey, I prefer to date Black men, as I am Black myself") or even prejudiced ("I don't date White men because I hate them!"). As I have stated previously, I subscribe to Dr. Beverly Tatum's definition of racism: a system of privilege and oppression meted out on the basis of race. While that definition doesn't give Black people a pass for being hateful or cruel to Whites, it acknowledges that even the most prejudiced amongst us lacks the ability to be racist, as that prejudice does not come with any power.
I see myself as not prejudiced nor biased, but instead, committed to a mission that calls for a Black partner. This is not an easy mission, nor a guaranteed one. But it is the one that I want. That is my choice and my natural inclination. I respect the will of others to make their own choices, so long as it is not the product of self-hatred or fetishization of otherness.
Some people confuse having a fetish for people of other races with being "colorblind". There is nothing more foolhardy than trying to label yourself "colorblind" in one of the most racist countries on the planet. We should all be color AWARE, so that we can actively dismantle racism, not pretend that ignoring it or making a bunch of "rainbow babies" will just make it disappear. I am constantly floored by the expectation that Black people are supposed to love and embrace Whites with no regard to the centuries of oppression we have faced globally. As if any discomfort or unwillingness we have to date across racial lines or to open up our communities or schools is the exact same as when it was done to us. Apples and oranges. I do and have and will embrace White people with love and friendship. But when it comes to a romantic partner, the only image for me is that of my Black brother. Any White person who challenges me on my right to make that choice is not truly the ally they fancy themselves to be.
I do not judge harshly any White or non-Black person who chooses not to date outside of their race for loyalty or bias. If it's done out of racist hate or prejudice, yes, that's wrong. Same as it would be for a Black person. But I am leery of ANYONE who has a strong preference for people of another race versus members of their own. A race is not a type. Saying "I like Black chicks" is not the same as saying "I like girls who write poetry". While it's natural for us to gravitate towards our own, to constantly seek otherness often time says something about you and some sort of failing in your self esteem.
If you are a sister who wants to date men of other races and can do that without saying "I hate Black men" or "I'll never date a brother", then more power to you. I cannot expect other sisters to have the same loyalty that I do, if for no other reason that there are not enough brothers for us to all get one. And while I hope that the sisters who do look elsewhere do it because of honest attraction and love, I can't help but to acknowledge that the more of them who leave, the better my chances are at what I truly want.
I have known and will continue to meet interracial couples of all sorts that consist of awesome people who are still very connected to their own race. Good for them. Doesn't mean it's for me. I know people who move to the suburbs, too and I'd be double damned before I did that. If I brought home a non-Black partner, my parents would be somewhat disappointed. But ultimately, their biggest concerns would be if this person made me happy and how well he treated me. If he was a good man who loved me and cared for me, they would make peace with my choice and embrace him as a family. It's not pressure from my parents that informs my choice. I WANT to say "Dad, look. I found a strong Black man like you. I looked at the example you set for me and it informed my choice." I WANT a Black man in my life. I want to have a few more short term jaunts with brothers. I want another Black boyfriend (or two) and I want a Black husband. This is what I have always wanted and this is what I shall seek. I speak for myself and a number of other sisters when I ask that you PLEASE stop trying to change my mind.
And I am telling you, I'm not going. This time, that affirmation will work.
ST
*-Yes, there is an actual shortage. That's not criticism, hatred or cause for widespread panic. The existence of one or more stellar Black men does not negate the fact that they are outnumbered, so please don't let your pride get in the way of reality and try and deny it, okay? XOXO-Me
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Obligatory Holiday Post
My Twitter wifey and I went to take pictures with Santa!
I'm back! Did you miss me? I took a much needed holiday break from work and workish things, which included the blog. I won't be gone so long again anytime soon, I promise! A little holiday recap: I had a nice Christmas dinner with my Brooklyn "family". It sucks being so far from my blood relations and not having a boo and not getting big ticket gifts like other people do (yes, I saw you gauche bammas bragging on Twitter and Facebook about all your stuff. TACKY!), but I had a lovely time surrounded by folks who love me. My crew did secret Santa gifts, and I got exactly what I wanted! I can't print it all here for legal reasons, but I'll just say shout out to you, Santa! Oh, and all three of my BK besties gifted me with bottles of gin. In the words of Sir Fabulous, "Gin is just another way of saying 'Hi, my name is...and I'm an alcoholic.'" And yet, he bought me some. Which is all that counts. 
My sister had a nice Kwanzaa dinner at her house this weekend, despite our elder sister's claims that the holidays were cancelled since we didn't come home this year. You see us, Sister OGM? Hi, hater.
Kwanzaa is my true favorite holiday of the year, aside from International Sister Toldja Day (the 2nd annual 24th celebration of which will occur on July 22nd, start saving NOW). I've been the Kwanzaa girl my whole life: often times, I was the only one in class or in my friend circle who's family celebrated the holiday. I get amped for Kwanzaa time like other folks do for Thanksgiving or Christmas and I wish more of our people would give the holiday a chance. Here's my little pitch; a more complete version of which appears on Keeping Up With The Huxtables.
Full disclosure: Dr. Karenga, founder of Kwanzaa, has a checkered past. He was a suspected informant against the Black Panthers, amongst other heinous crimes. Most Pan-Africanists/ Afrocentrists fall in to two camps when it comes to Kwanzaa: those who eschew it because of it's creator and those who celebrate it because of it's important values. I do not think on Dr. Karenga when I light my kinara, nor when I recite the Nguzo Saba. I appreciate the holiday that he created and I keep my personal thoughts about him seperate. And I answer questions about him every year, which I why I chose to include this in my post.
Dinners, community celebrations, rah rah rah. I appreciate those things and all, but what really moves me about Kwanzaa is the Nguzo Saba, Swahili for 'seven principles':
Umoja (Unity): to build solidarity within our families and communities; Kujichagulia (Self-Determination):to define ourselves, name ourselves, create for ourselves and speak for ourselves; Ujima (Collective Work and Responsibility): to build and maintain our community together and make our brothers' and sisters' problems our problems and to solve them together; Ujamaa (Cooperative Economics): to build and maintain our own stores, shops and other businesses and to profit from them together; Nia (Purpose): to make our collective vocation the building and developing of our community in order to restore our people to their traditional greatness; Kuumba (Creativity): to do always as much as we can, in the way we can, in order to leave our community more beautiful and beneficial than we inherited it; Imani (Faith): to believe with all our heart in our people, our parents, our teachers, our leaders and the righteousness and victory of our struggle.
I once developed a curriculum for a group of students with ways to incorporate the values of the Nguzo Saba in to our daily lives all year long. Think of the many ways in which we could improve our condition as a people if we truly committed ourselves to unity. How much better our self esteem would be if we stopped allowing others to define us. Imagine how our relationships would be enhanced if we worked collectively for the greater good of our bonds. We wouldn't be losing our most treasured neighborhoods to gentrification had we known the value of cooperative economics. We are best suited to be soliders for our people when we have determined our purpose and where our skill set fits in the grand scheme of things. We've long since known ourselves to be a creative people; imagine if we used our creativity for more than just mindless, capitalist entertainment. Faith is not something we are short on, but instead of putting it all in God, what if we had faith in ourselves, faith in our brothers and sisters, faith in the gifts the creator gave us?
Today is Ujamaa. In the spirit of cooperative economics, you should support Black buisness. Money leaves our community the second we get it. Spend you hard earned dollars with me. I make bread pudding, cookies, cakes and things. BUY THEM! sweethoneydesserts@gmail.com
Ujamaa Habari Gani!
Sister Toldja
Monday, December 21, 2009
Cake Love Jones
Get your holiday orders in NOW, NYC! desserts@thebeautifulstruggler.com!
Sisters is mad/I got more cake than baker-ies
Fuck pre-made, make mine the old fash way
Bundt pan way/ butter, sugar yo'
Far from Julia/but a sister bake, child
(What you bake?)
More cookies than Keebler/
Divas shaking in their heels
Invisible wife skills lack the whip appeal
Disappear/you're wack beside me
Take them Entenmann's back to the factory/
I see the box cake, the shake and break/
The shit is depressing, synthetic
Please forget it
You're mad cause my baked goods you're admiring
Don't be mad
Having kitchen skills is tiring
With no bake skills, you're bound to get dropped/
I can shake and I bake a lot
Pack the pans a lot
The flav's about to drop/
I'm kicking new flava in ya' mouth/time for new flava in ya' mouth....
Folks, I want you to know that I didn't sit down and write that. I accidentally took what I thought was a sleep aid, which turned out to be the complete opposite, and I laid in bed with my eyes wide open for hours. That little remix just wrote itself during that time. Lacking sleep and clarity, I do not have much in terms of gems to drop. 
In all seriousness, if someone can find Craig Mack for me, I would bake him a cake. Just because I sometimes randomly wonder what he's doing now and if he's sad.
However, I am cranky and I did get a new comment on a post I wrote two years ago that REALLY ticked me off. So what better time to lose a reader than now with a heated
response?
"Showing Love Jones to a group of Black women in their early 20's is like showing a bunch of Iranian kids a Disney World brochure. Dream all you want to, kids. But that trip probably ain't happening for you."
props
In real life, legit dudes like myself would never kiss Nina's ass like that at a club. She had a salty attitude, was a smoker, and didn't deserve the special attention he gave her. Darius was a simp, but Hollywood makes it come off like he's some hopeless romantic. Nina was horrible and he was a lame for taking her back after she went back to NY to see old dude. Nina was fly looking, but not THAT fly, and even if she was real dudes don't trip over a good looking woman without knowing what's under the hood. They lose respect for you and you come off like you're in the middle of a sexual drought. Being subservient is not a part of the man code.
I don't know what you are giving me props on. This is probably one of the darkest, worst posts I ever did. There was no context, just sadness and frustration. Which is fine, for me, looking back on it. Because I can see both my growth as a writer and a thinker. I think the passage the fella chose to cite (which was recently linked on Jezebel) was a clever one and that it does hold somewhat true. The Darius character was in a lot of ways a fantasy worthy man: nurturing, sensitive, creative and understanding. He was flawed and nuanced as well, which is why this film has always had such a special place in my heart.
What's so disgusting to me is that this (hopefully very) young man didn't think Nina (meaning Nia Long, the actress who played her) was "fly" enough to deserve the attention Darius gave her. Um. It was a movie. The Darius character (like most men I've known) thought the Nina character was beautiful and was highly attracted to her. It wasn't a film about a guy who made a conscious effort to go all out for a woman he thought was marginal. And had she been prettier to the guy who made this comment, would Darius' actions been warranted? Oh, and Darius started Nina smoking, as well.
Don't you love how man who does almost all the things sisters want to see is a "simp" in the eyes of a "legit dude"? Is there something not legit about having emotions or doing nice things for a woman? I think the Darius character had some asshole moments too, he wasn't all poetry and scrambled eggs and jazz records. Furthermore, I do know that having sex with a man too early can definitely derail a potential relationship due to the sexist double standard and virgin/whore complex a lot of men have. Part of what made Darius appeal to women was the fact that he didn't hold Nina's willingness to have the same sex HE wanted against her, but was mature enough to chalk it up to the strength of their mutual desire.
Maybe I'M awful, but I'm just not getting "legit" or "real" dude from this comment, nor the very hateful post he did about Bitch Is The New Black (love the "emasculating" image he chose to go with it). More like, "tired, trite, sexist, lacking the ability and/or desire to think critically, flawed perception of masculinity and young". But I could be wrong. I think what bothers me most is that there was so much material with which one could have attacked this post, ripped it to shreds. But instead, I got this. More sexism, more hatred, more evidence that I belong to a generation of men and women who are virtually incapable of being loved or loving or being worthy of love.
Thanks for reading, sir. "Acted like a nigga/and got stomped by an African." My tolerance is thin these days. I can't take the poison of sexism and anti-woman foolishness and if you bring it to my house, I will react accordingly.
As far as the original Love Jones post goes...I'd never write anything like that now. I try to keep my despondent thoughts to myself and honestly, they are rather few and far between these days. Darius was perfect because he was a character in a movie, but I do think there are men like that. Maybe I'll get one, maybe I'll get something else. Even in my darkest recesses, I don't really see the world like I on the day when I wrote this. Has being more positive had a 180 degree impact on my life? No. But it's just who I am these days. I'm grateful, if not moderately embarrassed from time to time, to have a very public record of how I've progressed as both a writer and a woman.
Friday, December 18, 2009
Five For Friday: Better Days
This is the last Five For Friday of the year. Next Friday is Christmas, and you guys will be with your families or boos unwrapping gifts as I sob in to a mug of spiked hot chocolate, so don't look for a new post that day. I will steer clear of the Twitter and the Facebook until everyone is finished with the "OMG, I can't believe I got 37 new pairs of Uggs and ten new pocketbooks" fest has ended. 
Though I suppose being alone isn't always worse than being with family.
Since this is the close of the WORST year in the history of life, I am hard pressed to find any inspiration to review it. There is nothing good that can be said about a year that saw the death of Michael Jackson. NOTHING. When I teach my children to count, they will skip the number 2,009 out of respect. This weeks Five For Friday is dedicated to years that were better than 2009.
1) 2008
Not only was Michael Jackson still alive in 2008, we elected the nation's first Black President. What a happy time! I will never forget the very second in which the news was announced. Like many watershed moments in my life, this one found me in a bar with a cup in my hand. The sweet vodka gimlet of victory. Sir Fabulous Himself cried a lot. I begrudgingly found myself in Union Square, but I was longing to be on 125th or Fulton Street. It was still nice though. That was also the year I lost a whole bunch of weight. It was a good year.
2) 1998.jpg)
What stands out most: my first set of acrylic nails (that's how we do in the Chi), my first eyebrow grooming (peace to my grandmother who tried to get my mom to let her do it five years sooner, but noooo), getting out of Beasley after 8 long years and kicking in the doors of Michele Obama's alma mater, Whitney M. Young High School. As far as the rest of the world was concerned, this was a dope year for music. Lenny Kravitz released his best record of all time, OF ALL TIME, "5". The Rawkus Era was in full swing. The Black Star album, probably my favorite top to bottom Hip-Hop record of all time dropped in '98. Tribe's "The Love Movement" failed to meet most people's expectations but was still solid and the excitement of a new Tribe record alone was worth it. Pharaoh Monch's "Internal Affairs" and even the Belly soundtrack were in my heavy rotation. The good old days, when Lil Wayne was just a baby roach I thought we could stomp out. 
Why didn't anyone step on him then?
3) 1990
I know ADW premiered a few years prior, but I still most associate it with the early 90's. I love Lisa Bonet and still want to be her, but the version of the cast that assembled when she left was the best. I would love to hop in the Delorean and be a Howard student in 1990. I envy anyone who had the early to mid 90's HBCU experience. Plus, 1990 was the year Chubb Rock jumped up on the scene with a lean and a pocket full of green. Had my mother not waited until her mid-thirties to have me (or her late teens, if we judge by the age she tells people she is), I coulda been a fly girl on the scene with a big dumb hat and some overalls. Thanks, Mom.
4) 1958
I miss you like I knew you. I'd trade actual people in my life to get you back. Some of whom are blood relatives.
Though I was not yet alive, 1958 is an important year because Michael Jackson was born. Our King. Our "Thriller-maker". The best of all time. Of all time. I walk up to random strangers on the street and say "I'ma let you finish, but Michael Jackson was better than you. Of all time! Of all time!"
5)A Year Between 1984 and 1989
There can be no greater year than the one in which I was brought to the planet! I came to bring the pain, hardcore for your brain at some point in the 1980's. The specific year, of course, is not important. What is important is that I made it. You're all welcome.
Thursday, December 17, 2009
"Put To Right": Lisa Warren and the Liberal White Hood
"And here is my office, where I do things wholly unrelated to both your athleticism and adultery."
Yesterday, White female writer* Lisa Solod Warren published a piece on the Huffington Post that was a veritable explosion of White privilege and subconscious racism . "Two Black Role Models Done In By Hubris" compares disgraced husband/champion golfer Tiger Woods to President Barack Obama. It's nonsense and seems better suited for Fox News than HuffPo:
In the past few weeks, the two most famous and arguably most successful black men in America have taken a huge fall. It has become clear that both pro golfer Tiger Woods, just named Athlete of the Year by the Associated Press, and the American president, Barack Obama, the first black person to lead the country, suffer from a surfeit of hubris which has finally caught up with them. If both men somehow thought they were untouchable, they have been put to right. (PUT TO RIGHT?!?!)Both have crashed to earth and it may well be true that they can never recover their earlier status again.
While Woods' "indiscretions" affect only himself and his family, he has felt the sting of the media invasion and a permanent loss of privacy. His reputation as sport's good family guy is gone. For Barack Obama the honeymoon is really over, even those who wanted to give him a chance are getting tired of what is not getting done, what was promised and reneged on. There is disappointment enough in both of them. (I should have stopped reading here. Anyone who compares the fall of an athlete's clean image to her personal feelings about a President's performance- one that is tethered by his right-wing, racist subordinates and countrymen- is not reasonable).
It is tragic when an icon falls. When a black icon stumbles the tragedy seems doubly problematic.(For whom? For Black folks? Or in the eyes of racist Whites who hold them to different standards than they do their own?) Mike Tyson, Magic Johnson, and Michael Jackson were all at the tops of their fields before revelations that made them less palatable as heroes and less of a role model for young black men.(Who is she to comment on this?) They have all been partially rehabilitated but not without a huge cost.
And now while the news if full of Tiger Woods' penchant for tawdry moments with women who can't hold a candle to the physical beauty of his wife, (Objection: relevancy.)the information we get on Obama, while far less salacious, is even more disillusioning. The expectations of real change that had people in tears a little over a year have been so thoroughly dashed that too many of his supporters feel betrayed by their naivete; they feel, as I do, almost foolish for believing that the status quo could really be kicked out the door (Given the climate of the country and the number of people with both Palin buy-in and IQ levels, how is this Obama's fault?).Is it even possible for our national landscape to change? Can we really progress from a country of individuals all looking for their stake to a country that actually has the notion that a stake for everyone means more for all? Having worked for weeks and months for Obama, having written glowingly about his oratory skills (He's articulate!)and his ability to gather even the disenfranchised together, as well as capture that ephemeral youth vote, I stood at rallies and allowed myself that enormous surge of hope that connected me with the rest of the country. But what was our choice? (Basically, "I didn't want this Negro, but he's all we had.")
...Both men are of mixed race. Yet the majority of the country, including black Americans, sees them as black. That's not a bad thing.(Of course not. How could you judge them accordingly if you don't see them as Black?) Except when such men of intelligence and talent, men who have such influence and power, can't help but succumb to the age old twins of greed and power...(Such men=powerful men, no? Why, again, is race a factor?) If Woods had been smart he would have kept his head down, played golf and taken care of his beautiful family instead of publicly destroying them. If Obama had enacted campaign reform as the first order of business real change could well have happened...(Campaign reform is the most pressing issue of the day? How would that have changed things at this point?)
What the people who worked and voted for Barack Obama wanted to see was a man who would stand up for principle and the ideals he spoke so stunningly of while campaigning.What those who were shocked at Woods' dalliances wanted to believe was that the first black man to be famous for a sport other than basketball or football was really who he appeared he was.(Who knew Tiger Woods was the savior for Black manhood? I thought he was Cablinasian. And a golfer.)
Woods remains an amazing golfer and athlete but his tumble to earth by hubris makes him far more human than god, and the entanglements that his weakness have brought may in fact undermine his game forever. (Wait, he was Godlike before? Was Tiger supposed to be the next Jesus? I missed that somehow.)
And Obama remains a brilliant thinker, an orator who can rally the masses, a supremely educated man and, by all accounts a dedicated husband and father (Relevancy?). But he has been unable to fight the system he said he wanted to fight. He has been unable to effect real, honest-to-goodness change. (And this is, apparently, all his fault.)In the spirit of reconciliation instead of leadership, he has slipped and fallen on the battlefield of politics. All we can hope is that he can stand up again, soon, and take charge.
I kept waiting for confirmation that this was satire. I looked to see if this was some sort of cross post from The Onion, or if perhaps Warren is a writer for The Daily Show. I could not believe that she was serious, though this should not come as any surprise to me, given that she is an American. A good old-fashioned privileged White American woman bringing these two high faluting Negroes back to earth with an tongue lashing.
Warren has as much authority to speak on Black role models and their relationship to Black people as I do telling someone they need to be a better example to Irish people or Christians. She has decided that because Woods is both highly successful and famous that he is a role model to Black boys. Given both my years of experience working with ACTUAL Black boys and Tiger's desire to be identified as a multiracial man, I disagree. If Warren's piece served any purpose, it was a reminder that Black folks are the main ones who really entertain the ability of mixed race people who are part Black to identify as "other".
That aside, there are absolutely no grounds by which these two men should be compared in this way. "Hubris"? This is a polite way of saying "uppity". While Tiger may have destroyed his wholesome image with his rampant whore mongering, It was not his pride that "did him in". I've never heard "hubris" used in relation to the many White male public figures who have publicly shamed themselves and their families with rampant adultery. As far as Obama is concerned, her assessment of his Presidency to date has no tangible evidence that it is excessive pride that has led to what she believes are his failings. If anything, hasn't it been his pandering across the aisle which has dealt a blow to his reputation as a change agent? Is that a result of PRIDE? What is the real reason Warren feels these men needed to be "put to right"?
Warren has racialized her criticism of these men and that says far more about her and her internal, subconscious racism than it does about Obama or Woods. Her piece is offensive from top to bottom. The nerve of a middle class privileged White woman to demand that these two men 'keep their heads down' to suit her comfort is insane. As laughable as it is that this woman believes herself to be able to speak on who is and is not a role model to Black people, it is the fact that she has deemed excessive pride to be what brought these men "down". She would have NEVER implied that a White athlete in Woods' position should have "kept his head down". And I highly doubt that she would be describing the downfall of President Obama one year in to this term were he not Black.
You could play a great covert xenophobic Liberal drinking game with this article. Take a shot every time Warren says something that is almost comically racist. And if you aren't vomiting yet, you will be when you check out the writer's Twitter page, where she pulls the classic White liberal victim game: "It seems I am being labeled by some a racist. No rationale for that but people like to call out names....", " Seems anyone who speaks about race is a racist. BS", "I hope all my new twitter followers wont be disappointed when they find out I am not a racist and am still a liberal democrat." and the best one: "You would be surprised at the number of black people I know. Not the old "I can't be racist! I have Black friends!" Forget a drinking game. Just take a bottle of Henny to the head and pray it makes any knowledge of this woman's flaccid writing disappear.
Perhaps Warren has seen one two many 'magical Negro' movies and believes that we are supposed to posses some sort of superior morality and ability to please White folks whist keeping our heads down. What she has NOT seen, as of this morning, is the err of her thinking and her racism. Warren doesn't wear a hood over her face, but there is one over her cognitive abilities. Her piece is little more than a new millennium burning cross. Today, she has been floundering about the comments section of her article crying foul for the fact that Blacks, Whites and others have been able to see what she cannot. So long as Warren refuses to realize that she's the one who needs to keep her head down...in a book, learning the meaning of White privilege and subconscious bias, HuffPo needs to pass on any more of her tripe.
*See what I did there, Lisa? No, you probably don't.
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Train of Thoughtlessness
If I have a headache and you have the swine flu, that doesn't make my head hurt any less in solidarity or deference. And if we both have the chicken pox, the universe doesn't cancel out our illnesses because they match. So I don't really understand why when an issue is raised about a particular group of people, a representative for another group feels the need to divert attention to someone else's problems. I call it playing "Oppression Olympics", and I do not have time for these reindeer games.
The existence of racism does not negate the reality of misogyny, which in no way trivializes the dangers of homophobia. Bias against obese people doesn't obliterate the existence of underweight folks who suffer from eating disorders. Abject poverty in India does not render the struggles of a poor family in the Bronx unimportant and neither mean that the middle class family who lost their house during the recession aren't suffering. AIDS in Africa* does not somehow cure AIDS on 79th and Stony Island.
Problems, peril and pain are everywhere and the existence of yours doesn't invalidate mine. Playing Oppression Olympics keeps us from ever really addressing our issues. I've seen it far too often and it's disturbing to observe how few people are unable or perhaps, unwilling to have a conversation without moving their personal issues (or someone elses' whom they deem more important) to the center. How many times have you heard a debate over gay rights when someone decides to remind us all that Black people have suffered in this country for centuries? Every time I have participated in or witnessed any discussion about domestic violence against males, I have seen a concerted effort to trivialize the issue by someone reminding us about that whole male on female violence. Because, you know, we forgot. There is some transgendered woman on Twitter who seems to spend most of her day fussing at feminists who she doesn't know because we are all, apparently, transmisogynistic. Because we aren't speaking about HER issues, she has decided that we are against her.
You can look at the comments section of most blogs that travel weighty subjects and see where people derail the conversation by belittling the topic at hand with their own issues. It happened here yesterday, not hardly for the first time, but to the point where I was actually angry. In a discussion about dissatisfied single Black women, a few brothers informed us that they, too, were dealing with their own single issues. I understand that outsiders sometimes feel connected to the topic at hand (when it comes to Black female issues, anyone who is not both of these things is an outsider) and want to relate. Sometimes relating is good and at other times, it is a derailment and seems to speak to a lack of respect for the other group's frustration. 
I'm sorry, I didn't hear you because I was too busy talking about myself.
People should learn to listen without attempting to personalize every conversation. Yes, I am sure that Black men and White women and one legged biracial bisexuals have their own specific issues when it comes to dating. However, this was a piece specific to Black women, inspired by a recent article about a Black woman and on a blog written by a Black woman. It is not the place to tell Black women "I got issues too" in a way that implies that Black women's' are not valid. I get it. Your blues ain't like mine. But if you don't let me sing my tune, I may lose my mind.
The great thing about blogging is that you can do it for free. You can go to Blogger or Wordpress or any number of other sites and you can have your own platform to discuss your thoughts. And you can say "Hey, I read your piece about single Black women. It inspired me to write my own thoughts out about some of the issues facing single Black men. I'd appreciate it if you read it and perhaps we can talk some things out." And if it isn't a long, tired piece explaining why all the thoughts the single Black girls on my site don't count, then I'll be happy too. Hell, you can email me and ask to submit a piece about Black men and dating and ask me to run it. I'd be GLAD to.
This selfishness or shortsightedness is not hardly limited to the blogosphere. It happens in classrooms, coffee shops, board rooms. How many times have you told a friend you were stressed out and instead of expressing solidarity or simply listening, she ran down a list of HER issues in a way that implied they were bigger than yours? This is a common human mistake, but it's one that can be easily corrected. Step outside yourself and imagine how you'd feel if you were down and the person you chose to share that with had to make the whole pity party about him.
To paraphrase a passage from Voltaire's Candide, unless you can see inside a person's heart, you do not know quite how things affect him. One person may suffer the loss of a pet far greater than another the loss of a friend. And when you attempt to assign weight to someone else's pain, you are travelling dangerous territory.
The Oppression Olympics have been a death knell to any substantial solitary amongst various groups of marginalized people in this country at large, and even in some of the smaller communities in which we exist. Let me have my space to air my issues out and I will gladly listen to yours. And if I don't, there is your space to criticize. NOT when I'm simply trying to breathe.
*_Because, apparently, it's the WHOLE Africa with the AIDS. I've never heard anyone reference AIDS in North America, btw.
Monday, December 14, 2009
Disappointment Is The Recurrent Black
When I got the first email from a friend linking me to an article on the Washington Post's website that was titled "Successful, Black, Lonely", I said "Uh, no. Not today." I already knew what it was gonna be about and I had no interest in dealing with the emotions it would stir. I know the drill: I'm Black, I'm pretty, I'm smart, I went to a good school and I do not know that I will ever find love. Been there, done that, trying to make optimism my shield. "I will not read this."
Such a cute girl, why is she trying to destroy me?
By lunchtime, the article had been sent to me about five more times and it was causing a buzz on the Twitter. At that point, I didn't have a choice. I read the WaPo's profile of Helena Andrews with a tightness in my chest. Hers is a story I've heard many times, one that actually played a small part in my decision to break out of DC for good. Andrews is an attractive and accomplished journalist with a interesting background and a wall full of fancy diplomas. She rolls with a crew of similarly gifted ladies in DC and can't none of them seem to find the man they feel they deserve. At only 29, her memoir Bitch Is The New Black has been optioned by Grey's Anatomy producer Shonda Rhymes (before it was even finished, to boot).
I was surprised at the backlash the piece and Andrews received on Twitter, from men in particular. I honestly do not think that, from what we have seen so far (meaning: the book, nor the movie have been released), the bredren have any room to criticize the young lady yet. Sometimes, outsiders need to learn to step back and let someone else unpack their personal pain from a respectful distance. Unlike many writers (present darling adorable blogger included), Andrews didn't engage any real criticism of Black men, but instead shed light on the pain she and her crew are managing for the lack of the "right" ones in their lives.
The sisters seemed to fall into two camps. Many expressed feelings of solidarity and shared frustration (I also picked up on a few folks who seemed to resent that Andrews had beat them to the punch with this book). Others seemed to resent the implication that single equals lonely. To speak to the latter, I don't think it's so much that Andrews or any of the many hundreds of female writers who have lamented the often painful search for love have decided that all single people live empty lives. But, rather, I see an expression of frustration at the inability to have something one really wants.
The plight of many single, accomplished Black women can be likened to that of a job seeker with an illustrious resume who cannot find work in her field. You have all the right qualifications and yet, the doors aren't opening to you. It's like never getting in to med school if you wanted to be a doctor since childhood. If you are a woman who wants a boyfriend or a husband and you cannot find one, that is hard to manage. As with anything one truly wants and flounders in search of. Some women (and men) have romance sitting high atop the list of things they desire most in life. I am one of those women. It's difficult, because unlike many other pursuits or goals, love is one that is not simply the result of your qualifications.
I personally find it hard to reconcile the fact that my White female and Black male counterparts have a far easier time finding love than I. White women do not outnumber White men in the same way that Black women do ours. Eligible Black bachelors (and even those who should NOT be eligible) essentially have a Black woman buffet to pick and sample from. And the ones most of us want tend to take full advantage of the odds and have the luxury of sampling plenty of goods before settling down with one woman. I believe this is why a lot of sisters get far too attached to "Mr. We Just met" or "Mr. Not Right At All"; we are trying to manage the forced competitiveness with other women or a lack of other suitors or a fear that if this guy doesn't work out, we're all alone again.
Andrews article made me feel like good Black girls were a dime a dozen. So many of us are smart, so many of us are pretty, so many of us are doing well for ourselves. Who do I have to be to have a boyfriend? Dating in one's 20's or 30's should not be so heavy, so frightening. I don't like the weight of that knowing statistically, I'm not likely to be married ever. I want to enjoy this time, sample from a brother buffet of my own and let Mr. Right show himself when he's supposed to. I do not want to be bitter or salty. I do not want to go out with men I'm not interested in just to say I went on a date. I want to be recognized for my dopeness in the romantic field, not to feel like I'm just one of many.
For the moments of depression and the occasional tears, I do feel that I have managed well to face the end of my mid-twenties with an attitude of optimism about love and romance. No matter how disappointed I feel at times, I have yet to allow myself to believe that I won't be a married mother with a happy brood in the next decade. Andrews is 29. 30 is considered to be a benchmark age for many pursuits, personal and professional. I do not know that I will have the same optimism at 29 if my romantic life is the same that it is now.
My only issue with Andrews' book is the title. I understand it to be a play on the Tina Fey joke from last years election Andrews describes herself as a mean girl and bitchiness as the mask she wears to protect herself from hurt. I personally feel that the word bitch is used too frequently for Black women who exhibit any modicum of fortitude and I distance myself from the word as a result (though I, too, am most certainly capable of wearing "the mask" of hardness when needed). I can almost guarantee that much of the criticism surrounding this book will be about calling oneself a mean girl and then being surprised when the love train passes you by. Unless Andrews is just a full out asshole (I didn't get that from her profile, nor from her Twittering), she may just be encountering the harsh reality of being one of too damn many.
I'm looking forward to a new Black female story being told in Hollywood, though I do dread the glaring eye of others that it brings with. The criticism from Black men, the psuedo empathy from non-Black women. The complaints that "this isn't ALL Black women" (because all Black movies have to adequately represent all Black people in a positive manner, of course). I think it would be great if the film begins to dismantle the notion that independent, accomplished Black women are in the business of being emasculating and crass. Beneath the mask, there is often a sister who is hurting because she feels that life is denying her one of the things she wanted most. It is my sincerest wish that Andrews and Rhymes capture this image effectively and lovingly.
Single, lonely Black women are not some tragic and desperate monolith. Some of us our victims of our own choices; others are falling short due to the reality of the numbers game. I appreciate that Andrews seems to be saying 'here is my story: I'm single and I don't want to be and I'm not sure why I am'. She doesn't seem to be posing herself as the perfect romantic partner and undoubtedly this very public catharsis will alert her to things she may need to improve upon on a personal level should she wish to find a partner.
The conversations sparked by her work have actually been going on for years and will need to continue if we are to attempt to somehow remedy or improve this situation. Let us engage not in the spirit of gender war, but rather, recovery. We are not the creators of our plight, nor can we be charged completely with remedying it. I won't say I think 'bitch' is the new anything, but I know that when it comes to love, Black is no stranger to disappointment. Hopefully, the Helena Andrews of the world will get the opportunity to experience what they want so badly.
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Five For Friday: After This, There Shall Be No More
I cannot believe people are still talking about Tiger Woods. I cannot believe I am still talking about Tiger Woods. I have not heard his name so much in the past 12 years since he won his first Masters' as I have since that fateful day two weeks ago. And yet, here we are. I wonder why?
I need to be done with this Tiger crap for good. I have unpacked all the valuable lessons and discussions I could take from this and I have enjoyed all the giggles it could afford me. This is the last post anyone ever needs to write about Woodsgate 2009. Let's leave it all here.
1) Welcome Back, Kiddo
In all seriousness, I tried to find a pic of Tiger with some Black folks. There aren't any.
Well I will be damned. You gotta question love Black folks' ability to rally among one of their own. Even when he has said "I been told y'all I ain't one of your own! The more the media jumps all over Tiger, the more I hear Black folks (especially men) becoming protective of him. That's...interesting. I think the coverage has been disgusting and disrespectful (as Woods has, apparently, been to his wife), but I am not 100% sold that it's all because of Tiger's race. He's the one of the greatest living athletes and he has been allegedly cheating on his "hot" wife with every two-dollar Shakeys waitress he could find! He kept his image clean for over a decade and now he's a wanton whore with a possible pill problem. Perhaps some of the joy folks are taking in his fall from grace has to do with his color. But I think Tom Brady or Michael Phelps would have endured much of the same foolishness were they the ones on Trashygirls.com
2) This Is What's Hot On The Green, Dog?
She's...a...um...she looks...existent.
Tiger Woods certainly has...interesting taste in women. That said, anyone surprised or disappointed that Tiger doesn't have one woman of color in his harem is a fool. My only disappointment, if you can call it that, is that a wife and mother has to endure the shame of mistresses coming out like roaches. BTW-I'm not going nuts on the girls for running their mouths. Are they wrong? Hell yeah, but there's no code of honor for women who sleep with other women's husbands. How can a crook expect someone else to follow the law? Elin gets to be a millionaire and Trashy Sue's just gonna top you off for the fun of it? Sorry, Tiger. That's not how the world works. You can't expect anyone else to respect your marriage if you don't.
3)A Word From Captain Obvious
She's in type deep thought, right? Who draws these things?
I can hardly imagine under any circumstances under which a Stanford-educated man of great success would marry a 22-year old Black domestic worker, even if she were a model. Hell, it would be hard for a Black teacher or sister with some other unglamourous job to pull that sort of "prize". This is a well known and unsettling fact that informs how many sisters see this story.
Just remember this, ladies: a man who finds his mistresses on www.trashygirls.com is no prize.
4)I Can Now Speak Cablanese, That's A Win
MsTygerLily and I have had the world's greatest kiki over the mysterious and fascinating language of Tiger Woods. I studied the Tao of Cablinasian Macking and I would like to share all of the things I learned:
-"quietly and secretively, we will always be together"
This is like some clean serial killer type game right here, but boy does it sound fun when I say it in my head in a Cablinasian accent.
-"I will wear you out soon."
Mmm, okay. Truth or solace? Honestly, Tiger was never bad looking to me. And by not bad looking, I mean...I know I'm not the only one who felt the deep shame of wondering "You think he could wear it out?" when I read that. Deep shame. Low down dirty shame shame. I ain't the only one though. But on the flip, "I will wear you out soon" sounds as sexy as "I will clean the gutters soon", doesn't it?
-Tiger refers to himself as Blasian and also implies that he's a "Black guy". This is probably more than any of us would have given him credit for. But nothing, I mean NOTHING is better than when groupie number 480 suggests that he's on the softer side and he says...wait for it...wait...for...it..."I'm bone thugs and harmon"(sic).
BWAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
Clearly he was being sarcastic. But it still stayed me at my desk yesterday. I'd imagine that he Googled "rappers" and Bone was the first group to come up that he recognized. The Jonas Brothers got a better chance at being inducted in to Bone Thugs and Harmony than Tiger Woods.
From left: Fierce Bone, Miss Bone, Dandy Bone
5) America Just A F*cked Up Place, Ain't It
This is a damn shame. Most of us barely making rent and debating about how many millions are fair for the spurned and possibly violent wife of the world's first Cablinasian golfer. Personally, writing this piece was my way of copping out from addressing the Washington Post piece that was emailed to me about 50-leven times yesterday, because it made me kinda sad and a little more fearful for my future than I deserve to be. I'll engage it Monday. Shame on me for getting my jollies off on Tiger, but quietly and secretively, I doubt he's worried about my little corner of Negronia.
***And while it was quite some time ago, if you are finding yourself feeling some sort of sympathy for Tiger, take a look at these jokes he made to a White interviewer in front of a crowd of White women when he first blew up. Black man penis jokes, dude? I'm not one for bringing up old stuff, but this is new to me and pretty wack.***
Wednesday, December 09, 2009
Other Side of the Weight Game
My struggle with my weight has been well documented here and has been a constant subject of conversation amongst my family and friends, who have been (mostly) supportive. I haven't offered any updates here in a while, but I've gotten a few questions from readers about it lately. I'm over the biggest physical hurdle. I started my serious diet and exercise overhaul in January of 2008. In these two years, I have lost almost 60 pounds. I feel distant enough from my heaviest weight to feel that I won't get there again. Exercise has been a constant part of my life for two years and I have demonstrated my ability to make healthy eating choices *most* of the time. I have medium clothes hanging in my closet for the first time since middle school. 
Spring 2007: the wig was just for fun, btw. I do not endorse ratchet ass wigs.
The battle is not hardly over. It's less about the 10 or 15 pounds I'd still like to drop (I got in a tankini last summer; 2010 is begging for bikini action) than it it is about adjusting to life at a different size. When most of us think about changing our bodies, be it losing, gaining and/or surgical enhancement, we tend to think about how much greener life is on the other side of the fence. And yes, weight loss aspirants, I will tell you that my life is much greener. Some women like being big. Some embrace it out of fear or laziness or out of the ability to love themselves unconditionally. As I said before, I always hated it. I hated everything about it. 
Spring 2008
I'm happy because I'm closer to where I want to be and also, because I did it the right way. I'm proud of myself. My body is not just my temple, it's my creation. My pallet where I create not just with colors and textures, but now with muscle tone and new curves. But there has been a very complicated reconciling of these new image. I can't honestly say that I always know what I see when I see myself. I'm not a small woman, I don't think I'm a very big one. My stature and build (broad shoulders, large bust) will pretty much keep me from being a little thing, which was never an aspiration of mine anyway. They do, however, keep me closer to large-ness than I'd like to be.
Fall 2008: We were too excited about those segway cops, btw. HU!
In some ways, I still think from the perspective of a big girl, while being alternately deeply afraid that people still see me as one. It's weird, because I can name a few women who are larger than me who I do not consider to be "big girls", but because I was one myself for some years, I still tend to see myself in that category. I've also had to process that not being fat is not an instant ticket to happiness or a guarantee of perceived beauty by outsiders. I get treated differently by some big women then I did in the past. It was a sisterhood that I never wanted to be a part of, but I did embrace the feelings of solidarity. I've made a few comments around larger women that got the serious side eye, not realizing that I wasn't allowed to speak as an insider any more.
I've arrived at a place where my personal feelings of beauty and comfort are...good. They are great, actually. That's not to say I'm not without insecurity. There are days when I look in the mirror and I see the same thing I saw in 2007: a big person. There are moments when I worry about how men perceive my size. That's wack, but it's the truth. There are dark moments in this fight. I don't know anyone else who has had a similar walk to mine. The folks who have been thin can't understand and the ones trying to still lose weight don't want to hear about how it isn't all it's cracked up to be.
December 2009: I rediscovered my real hair color as well. For now.
All that to say that losing weight is not just a matter of "I'll work out, I'll eat better, everything will be good." I wish someone had braced me for the changing self-image and new issues that came with my new body, but I do feel that the pros have far outweighed the cons. If this is something you are interested in doing, just know that it may bring with it more than you expected. Brace yourself, surround yourself with people who support your goals with love and give it your all! If you want it, it shall be yours!
**I want other Black women to be healthy and, moreover, happy. I'm glad I've been able to inspire and encourage my sisters (and others). I also know that my pursuit of svelteness has made a few people uncomfortable. To that, I can only say that my choice of what is right for me has always been a reflection of what I wanted from and for myself and not a commentary on anyone else. Peace to you if this is your journey, peace if it is not, **
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