Dear White People:

I understand that for most of you, life has been set up in such a way that giving thought to anyone else – especially black people – is alien to you. I understand that since birth, most of you have been made to feel as if only your needs, wants and dreams matter and that this universe of ours truly belongs solely to you and those others who look like you. White People, I get that your worlds have been so white-washed that for you, oftentimes you are not even trying to be obnoxious, racist or dismissive… you truly find those that look like me, invisible. I recognize that those who look like me only come into focus for you in very specific ways:

  • We wash your clothes
  • We cook your food
  • We take care of Buffy, Shelby, Skylar and William, the third
  • We clean your floors, make your beds and scrub your bathrooms
  • We serve you in restaurants and take you to your tables
  • We fight your wars so your sons and daughters can remain safely at home
  • We wash your cars, mow your lawns and drive you to and fro
  • We are the beggars that make you clutch your children closer
  • We are the ‘hoodlums’ that make you clutch your bags tighter
  • We are the illicit ‘wet dreams’ of your husband and sons
  • We are the scandal of your daughters

I get it.

I get that for you, what you have been taught and what you then teach your children allow for you to:

  • Put your feet up on the public seats others will then be sitting on
  • Push past others with nary a thought for asking permission or forgiveness
  • Address those in authority and their elders by their first names
  • Indulge the whims of your little ones at the expense of others’ time, hearing or patience
  • Justify the illegal, narcissistic and entitled behaviors of your own, by throwing money at mine
  • Believe no rules or laws apply to you
  • Trample on my rights in the name of your belief at the purity of your bloodline

I could go on.

But, White People, I will need for you all to stop. I will need for those of you with some sense (and those are the ones who are my friends) to speak to the others; they are giving you all a bad rep. I will need for you all to understand that not only is this black woman not going anywhere, but neither are the million+ others who look like me. I will need for you all to recognize that, racist, bigoted, ignorant, destructive, narcissistic, bullying president aside, you all are not the superior race! I truly will need for you all to stop giving birth to and raising little people, who grow into big people who continue to perpetuate your delusions and foolishness! Teach your damned children some manners! Have them put their fucking feet on the floor where they belong! Because they are allowed to lie in their beds in your home with their sneakers on, does not mean I should sit my expensive-ass-clothed-ass on what they have trampled through!

I need for you all to begin to realize we are here, slaying and staying! Recognize that Oprah, Barack, Michelle, Martin, Malcolm, Nelson, Rosa, Michael, Bob, Whitney, Biggie, Muhammad, were not flukes. And, there are more where they came from!

Dear White People, I’m going to need yall to get over yourselves now, hear?


Left, Right. Left, Right. Left, Right. Okay. Ummm… Right.

You know… initially I was as offended and outraged as most at that idiot’s latest decision that highlights and supports his continued efforts and intent to further segregate this country and foster feelings of hatred, bigotry and malice.

Initially I was stupefied, bewildered and fuming because of his decision to disallow and remove all transgender individuals from serving in this country’s armed forces.

However the more I think of it, I am grateful. You see…

There is nothing more these souls need to prove; they have already proven how incredibly brave they are.

There is no other fight they need to fight; they have already conquered their greatest battle.

There is no other victory they need to have; they have already gained the biggest win in/of their lives.

So, purely by accident and unintentionally did that idiot do something to honor these extremely brave men and women. And for that even as I continue to scream, “Fuck You!” in this one instance only I will add, “Thank You.”



Things Have Gotten So Hairy!

I have shaved my head. Every loc has been relegated to a plastic bag that will be destroyed. All that is left is a coating of baby-fine hair on my scalp and some markings that are left behind to tell the tale of years of carrying around a head-full of mile-high hair.

Okay, I have a beautifully shaped head. This is not being arrogant; aside from it being true, I had absolutely nothing to do with it, so simply stating facts. And, those who have known me for more than five years will find nothing strange about this decision as being bald is how they have known me. Yes, for my entire career as a model and a party-girl, bald was how I presented. In fact, I can say that having hair was the stranger of the two looks.

So, this is not about my ‘new’ look; but rather it is about the continued fascination I have with people’s reaction to a woman with a bald head. I am fascinated at the white man’s obsession with (long) hair and the black man’s rejection of a female’s bald head (I hope you take note that even as you may be inclined to read both race’s reactions as the same, I purposely have separated the two). So let’s address this, shall we?

The White Man:

To be fair, I should state that it is not all white men. In fact, I could even go as far as saying this feeling is relegated to predominantly white American men (like in many other areas, the European man tends to be a bit more enlightened…). And to be even fairer, let me say not all white American men, either. Now that that bit of verbal housekeeping is out of the way, let me carry on with my tale. It seems as if indoctrinated into the white American male’s environment is the thinking that for a woman to be beautiful, she must have hair. And, the longer the better. In fact, the more a woman embodies the Farrah Fawcett stereotype, the better. It seems as if when taking inventory of a woman’s attributes, they literally start at the top of the head and work their way down. If a woman’s hair is not long and luxurious, there is no need to proceed further.

In watching television, we are further bombarded with the importance of hair as it relates to white America. Girls, from a very early age are taught the art of flicking it away from the faces and over their shoulders. Being coy or flirtatious involves the twisting of that one lock of silkiness around one beautifully manicured finger. Sex? Well, if you’ve ever watched porn (and you know your freaky ass has!), the grabbing of a fistful of hair while artfully putting it on her, doggie-style is a must! Similarly, not to be outdone, the white woman must have the tresses to seductively trail down her man’s chest and legs on her way to, well….

So, they need it.

The Black Man:

He prefers hair as well. But it is my experience that the reason is a whole other animal altogether. The black man is so intent on always establishing (his) dominance that the strength (yes… I said “strength”) that a woman with balls enough to shave off her hair possesses can tend to be intimidating. Then, there is the added component that most (supposed) heterosexual black males are so homophobic, that ignorance has them rejecting any intimacy that they liken to that of male-on-male. Let’s look at these two, shall we? Here we go…

In a male-dominated world, especially a, white, male-dominated world, for a woman to dare to remove the adornment that society has decided is not only where her beauty is housed, but is the thing that determines her femininity, is ballsy! Shit… can even be considered as reckless! To be confident enough to determine and insist that femininity and beauty emanate from somewhere deeper, more hidden is to actualize an awareness that (most) men find threatening. Especially our black men. It seems to imply I regard myself as strong as they (I do) and that I too am able to face this world without hiding. Bare-faced and bold-faced! I do. To the ignorant (black) male it can say I have rejected my femininity for a more masculine persona. Again I say, “to the ignorant… male”. Don’t know about yall, but as much as I respect my black men, I am yet to come across one that makes me wish I were of the same sex. Being a woman – and that includes the ability to express that in any way I choose – is one of the greatest achievements of my life!

Listen, I am not dumping on those of us women with a head full of beautiful tresses; I too love beautiful, healthy hair. I am not even mad at the men whose preference it is to run their fingers through it, or grab it to get their freak on… do you! For me however, more than society’s preferences or perceptions are the perceptions of us who either choose to or are forced to walk this earth unadorned and bold.

I am applauding every woman who is in a fight for her life due to illness and for whom the focus is not your narrow-minded views of her; but for whom every touch of the breeze, rain or snow drop or kiss of the sun on her bald head means she has survived one more day. That even as the medicines have stripped her of hair – here, there and everywhere – she is still here to tell it.

I am celebrating with every woman for whom time, experiences and age have motivated to remove all shackles they may have felt and for whom the endurance of the inner-woman outweighs the insecurities of the outer-woman. Women who recognize the brazenness of meeting this world head-on; pun intended. Women who have survived… poverty, abuse, degradation, racism, ageism, heartaches, abandonments and for whom the showing of strength is imperative to their continued survival.

I am cheering those who refuse to hide. Those women who need no props to flirt, be coy or to be sensual. Women who do with their eyes, lips and body what others for centuries have been taught to do with their hair. Women who walk strong, proud and sure in their woman-ness. Women who love without society’s constricting playbook. Women who reject the white man’s interpretation of beauty and prefer to celebrate their ancestral version. Women who refuse to indulge a black man’s insecurities of himself by levelling them unto her. Women who decline to limit or shrink themselves in order to elevate any man’s ego.  I cheer on the women who understand that in being the authentic, raw, strong version of themselves they effectively weed out the attention of the weak.

For the women who rock the baldy just cause you bad-ass like that… girl, hair’s to you!












As a budding student, it is indeed my responsibility to protect what is allowed to pass my ear passages and enter and lodge itself in my brain. So, I admit to not paying too much attention to Mr. Trump. Truthfully, I find it unnecessary to tune in multiples times a day to hear his latest display of bigotry and ignorance, because, well, if it is one thing we can all depend on, is that he will never disappoint in those arenas. The man is nothing if not consistent! However, every once in a while something infiltrates; as it did a little ago. So, I ask for your understanding and forgiveness in advance as I deviate from addressing those people, things and issues that warrant our attention, scrutiny and that honor our intellect… and just for a bit, address lunacy.

“There is blame on both sides…” Yes; this is Mr. Trump’s position as it relates to the (again) unspeakable tragedy that has unfolded in Charlottesville. “There is blame on both sides.” Before I go into just how many ways this is offensive, let me be fair and state this – there are absofuckinglutely many occurrences, instances and happenings where blame can be levelled if not equally, at least attributed to either side. Certainly there are those experiences where, when the dust has settled and everyone goes about the business of clean up, part of what must be handled is the, ‘who did what to who first and then as a consequence of’. Yup. Been there. Shit! I have even been embroiled in those situations where it was damned near impossible to determine if the chicken came before the egg; all that one knew for certain was that both those suckers came! Understood.

But not the fuck here! To have the take-away in this tragedy be that both sides were to blame, so in fact to exonerate the heinousness of what that racist fuck did is egregious on a scale that defies all decency, humanity and logic! To adopt a position of non-accountability for this murderous level of hatred is unspeakable! And, to have that sentiment come from the loose-lipped mouth of the leader of this country? Well, here we are. This man, Mr. Donald Trump has, with these words of accountability leveled at the peace-makers and non-accountability levelled at the racists, signed an Executive Order for murder! He has:

  • Given every rapist the right to rape because the victim wore a short skirt
  • Given every abuser the right to abuse because she didn’t cook his dinner on time
  • Given every employer the right to fire because he/she dared to grow too old
  • Given every homophobe the right to stump, spit on and kill because he/she dared to love differently
  • Given every parent the right to abuse or kill their child because they won’t stop crying
  • Given every stalker the right to stalk because he/she dared to become a celebrity
  • Given every white man the right to hang us because well, we’re black

This fuck has found a way to justify hatred and murder. He has taken away the protection of many, by exonerating the guilty. Sigh.

“There is blame on both sides…” And a racist, bigoted, hateful, ignorant, small-minded, tiny-dicked, egotistical, maniacal, bullying, tantrum-having, weak-jawed, deeply flawed asshole smack dab in the middle! #triangle

The Dog Days Of Summer.

This morning as I started my commute on the NJ Transit, on the seat opposite mine sat a woman with a stroller. Now, if you have been paying attention to the news, you would appreciate that even as my commute should span no more than twenty-three minutes to New York, with the track work and just plain-ole delays for no reason, I had lots of time to kill. Because today I am rocking one of those bucket hats with a medium-sized brim, I was able to mind all of her business without being caught (too often J ).

As I stated, she had a stroller; and an expensive looking one at that. Why I initially found her interesting was, she seemed a bit old to have a new-born (I gauged the age of a new-born as a result of the size of the stroller’s basket). However, I grant I may have been mistaken about her age as well, she was white and it is well known that some Caucasians do not age well (and certainly not as well as some of us!). Because of this middle-aged business, it evoked thoughts of Janet (“Ms. Jackson if you’re nasty!) and I wondered how she and her beautiful bundle were faring. Yes, I digressed.

The stroller looked expensive; it truly had a lot of bells and whistles. There was a beautiful white parasol attached to it on one end to provide shade and, on the opposite side of that there was a clip-on fan. That made me pause a bit as I remember thinking, “what if that were to somehow get unhooked… it could injure; especially if turned on at the time); but, to each his own. At the front end of the stroller, there was a holey-thing that had some sort of plastic hanging out; didn’t waste too much time on that. Of course there was the standard rack below to carry additional crap and another basket of sorts by the handle for even more crap. The stroller was one of those fancy-smancy three-wheeled jogger types.

I checked out the lady next. I already have this theory that older parents go a tad bit overboard with their little ones; so I decided she added credence to that concept. Before any of you new older parents come at me, please take a look at just how over-everything you are – protective, compensating, neurotic, tired – everything. But, this post is not about you and truth be known, as over-doing it as yall are, I respect the heck out of you and frankly, at times I wish I could still do that thing. So rock on with your bad selves!! Now that we’re friends again, back to this lady. She had broad weight-builder shoulders and very well-developed arms; the kind we get from either structured exercises or hoisting our young. She looked fit… for her age.

As we got closer to New York and everyone started gathering their possessions together in preparation to disembark, I saw movement from the carriage. I admit to being quite excited to seeing the baby (love me some babies!), but also I wanted to neatly wrap up this little saga I developed to keep myself entertained. Because of all the netting and hoopla of the carriage, what I saw were shadows at best; but something seemed a tad ‘off’. The head seemed quite small and I could swear as it moved there were two things at the side of it. Pointy things. I no longer pretended to not be looking… I was staring.

In that expensive stroller with parasol, fan racks, baskets and three wheels, was a damned puppy! I shit you fucking not! A damned dog! Ms. Thing calmly got up, zipped the entire basket compartment together (told yall it was fancy!) and wheeled her ‘baby’ out of the train! Then it hit me – that “holey-thing that had some sort of plastic hanging out” was a damn holder for plastic bags to pick up poop! Okay…

The moral of this entire story? As human beings, we are conditioned to not see things/people in the places or situations we do not expect it/them to be.

I guess this is where, if I were prone to colloquialism, slang or lingo I would say, “Stay woke” yall.


Casting A Spell!

I feel I should start giving writing lessons. And, I will not even think of focusing on anything fancy – I will take us all the way back to the basics where it seemed many of us were out doing something else on the days they were taught. Spelling. I would gather many of my friends (yes, sadly… I have friends who qualify for this class!), sit them down, promise them unlimited #whatevertheydrink afterward and begin speaking.

We would focus on the importance of public speaking. No; not the proper attire/stance/eye contact bit. I do not care about that! Well, not for you J My class will focus on the fact that so very many of us are out here posting, what seems like in ten-minute intervals and, again, forget content… spelling for crap!

Some of yall are making things plural that either shouldn’t or can’t be – I can’t takeS or makeS anything! I, can only make or take! Also, my opinion can only be that you’re beautiful/smart/funny/sexy/annoying. In no way can I think your beautiful/smart/funny/sexy/annoying! Lord have every mercy… if I lose a loved one, the surest way to lose ME is to send me a correspondence that says, “Sorry for ur lost”. Okay. If you don’t respect me, at the very least, respect the dead… spell out the entire word (and, that’s your, not you’re) and, the damned word in this context is, loss, never ever ever, lost!

Let’s continue. There are some nouns in our spectacular English language that remain the same whether singular or plural. Let’s examine some: deer, sheep, fish, shrimp, cod, swine. These (and there are more; Google the shit!) never ever carry an ‘s’ at their end to denote a plural form.  Additionally, there are some plural nouns that for some strange reason, some try to make more plural; I shit you not! I have heard, womens, mens and childrens. Sigh. Stop!

Now, whether you continue to read my posts after this one is up to you. But, it will never be, weather you continue to read… My darlings, one denotes options – whether this or that, and the other, if it’s raining, sunny, snowing or hot. They have never been or ever will be interchangeable. Notice also I said, “it’s raining”. That says I am saying, it is. The other form, its relative is meant to suggest possession. Again, learn the difference; use it wisely.

One of my favorites: too and to. I admit, often I have to pause over the use of these. Here we go. Too, means as well or also and it also should be used to express excess or an abundance; such as, ‘your spelling malady is too insulting!’ To on the other hand, is a preposition. I know, I know, big word! Simply put, it should be used to express… yall see that?! For next class, we will learn the differences between ‘borrow’ and ‘lend’. Read up on it so yall will be ready.

Listen, I feel encouraged by today’s lesson. Let us review:

I remember when I decided to take an English class; I realized if I didn’t I would be lost and that would be my loss. You see I knew my eventual success would be predicated on whether I took it or not, so I decided to disregard my desire to fish or eat shrimp because the weather was perfect. Listen, your decision could be different, but please remember you’re only as successful as you are determined. It’s absolutely up to you. But, I do suggest you think very deeply as I have seen some of your writing and well, men and women, some of you need to address it as honestly, it is too bad!

Have some pride… and damned respect!

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