Showing posts with label Crazy Bitches. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Crazy Bitches. Show all posts
Sunday, May 21, 2017
Oh no she didn't!
Wednesday, October 21, 2015
Why am I so Angry?!
Today, somebody told me that they had read my blog and I immediately panicked. No, like seriously. I freaked out because I have just been dropping ridiculous bullshit on here for the sake of publishing something but I haven't written anything witty, deep, funny, poignant in a long time. So I opened up the page and looked at some of my recent posts and I am now MORTIFIED. It's much worse than I thought.
I sound like an angry, bitter, lonely bitch who is also a horrible writer. Great. Not exactly what I had in mind when I was pushing myself to blog to get my creative juices going.
Even worse, this person happens to be a gentleman that I like (oh don't worry. It doesn't matter if I admit it here cause I'm pretty sure he will never visit this blog ever again) so I can basically forget about the possibility of him having any more interest in me. I mean, I wouldn't date the person who wrote all these bitter ass tirades.
The truth is, I haven't been nearly as angry and bitter as my posts sound but because I only seem to blog when something pisses me off or I have an existential crisis, I seem like a fucking basket case. Great. No wonder I'm still single.
Oh well. Can't dwell on what's done. I guess if this gentleman (and whoever else may actually still read this blog) is worth my time, he will take those bitter posts with a grain of salt and reserve his judgments. In the meantime, I gotta fix this shit. It's thoroughly embarrassing.
I think the problem here is that there isn't a theme (at least not one I planned or properly executed). Oh yeah, the unofficial theme is "angry black bitch ravings" but that's definitely not a complete representation of me. I'm actually kinda funny, sweet and inspiring sometimes. I know! After reading this blog, I find it hard to believe myself!
Anyway, I think I'll change this blog to a more anecdotal, light-hearted journal. One where I share the quick musings of my daily experiences. One where I can make you laugh and smile, not want to call a health-care professional. Howzat sound? Much better? OK. Obviously this starts tomorrow cause this post is totally not "on message."
*awkward laugh*
I sound like an angry, bitter, lonely bitch who is also a horrible writer. Great. Not exactly what I had in mind when I was pushing myself to blog to get my creative juices going.
Even worse, this person happens to be a gentleman that I like (oh don't worry. It doesn't matter if I admit it here cause I'm pretty sure he will never visit this blog ever again) so I can basically forget about the possibility of him having any more interest in me. I mean, I wouldn't date the person who wrote all these bitter ass tirades.
The truth is, I haven't been nearly as angry and bitter as my posts sound but because I only seem to blog when something pisses me off or I have an existential crisis, I seem like a fucking basket case. Great. No wonder I'm still single.
Oh well. Can't dwell on what's done. I guess if this gentleman (and whoever else may actually still read this blog) is worth my time, he will take those bitter posts with a grain of salt and reserve his judgments. In the meantime, I gotta fix this shit. It's thoroughly embarrassing.
I think the problem here is that there isn't a theme (at least not one I planned or properly executed). Oh yeah, the unofficial theme is "angry black bitch ravings" but that's definitely not a complete representation of me. I'm actually kinda funny, sweet and inspiring sometimes. I know! After reading this blog, I find it hard to believe myself!
Anyway, I think I'll change this blog to a more anecdotal, light-hearted journal. One where I share the quick musings of my daily experiences. One where I can make you laugh and smile, not want to call a health-care professional. Howzat sound? Much better? OK. Obviously this starts tomorrow cause this post is totally not "on message."
*awkward laugh*
Monday, January 6, 2014
And all of a damn sudden...
She's back.
What the hell kind of blog is this?
Imaginary readers, why do you accept this nonsense? I make promises of wonder and amusement, disappear for three months and then all of a sudden come back and start writing again like shit is sweet. Honestly, if I had an audience it would probably be full of folks with ADD, like me.
Anyhoo, I'm not here to make promises for the umpteenth time. I'mma just write about some bullshit and see what happens. People all over the damn place writing about bullshit and guess what? Motherfuckers read it! Hell, I read it. So...
On the other hand, when it comes to dealing with men that I have or have had feelings for, men that have, may have, may have had, think they have but don't really know, used to have but don't know if they still have (and so on and so forth) feelings for me, or men that just plain want to have sex with me, that shit is complicated! I don't like it one bit. I don't like that men are trifling. I don't like that men don't want to work for pussy anymore. I don't like that men want a woman who can cook, make more money than them, be a lady in the street, a freak in the bed, a rocket-scientist at all other times and be perfectly content with their not-enough-money making, no aspirations, goals or hobby having, limited mental and social capabilities, less than stellar sexual performances, no damn domestic tendencies, high maintenance bitchassness, can't even change a light bulb let alone a flat tire asses.
I am not a man-basher but fair is fair. Men these days just want too fucking much. I try to behave in a calm and serene manner towards men--if only to shut these dudes up who keep telling me that black women have too much mouth and attitude and so that I can see what my options would be if I were a white girl (or any non-black woman that black men claim they look to for refuge after being destroyed, humiliated, neglected and unappreciated by black women, booo-motherfucking-hoo!) and honestly, these options don't look too good.
I have found myself wishing a lot lately that I was born a man so I could do any-damn-thing I want. The other day a man, after listening to me bitch about double-standards between men and women replied, "well if you don't like double standards, you should have been born with a cock!" **obnoxious laugh** And honestly, he was right. But something deep inside me thinks I actually was supposed to be born with a cock because I think and behave like I'm told a man should. I expect the world to be fair. I am a little self-centered. An unequal relationship just does not compute for me. I don't understand the point of sex if I'm not being pleased. Apparently, these ideas are revolutionary for women. I thought it was just part of being treated with respect!
What the hell kind of blog is this?
Imaginary readers, why do you accept this nonsense? I make promises of wonder and amusement, disappear for three months and then all of a sudden come back and start writing again like shit is sweet. Honestly, if I had an audience it would probably be full of folks with ADD, like me.
Anyhoo, I'm not here to make promises for the umpteenth time. I'mma just write about some bullshit and see what happens. People all over the damn place writing about bullshit and guess what? Motherfuckers read it! Hell, I read it. So...
Men
Clearly, they suck but some of us (mainly me) like them. Now that I am single again, I have men on the brain. Not just because I'm a boy-crazy whore (because I'm not) but because men seem to be swirling around me. If it's not men, it's women with male energy. I have to say. I like men. I like how they're pretty simple and straightforward, even when they're not trying to be. I like how they tend to be honest (excluding any situations that involve women and relationships). I like their calm. I especially like being around men that I am not sexually involved with. I learn a lot about their ways and myself.On the other hand, when it comes to dealing with men that I have or have had feelings for, men that have, may have, may have had, think they have but don't really know, used to have but don't know if they still have (and so on and so forth) feelings for me, or men that just plain want to have sex with me, that shit is complicated! I don't like it one bit. I don't like that men are trifling. I don't like that men don't want to work for pussy anymore. I don't like that men want a woman who can cook, make more money than them, be a lady in the street, a freak in the bed, a rocket-scientist at all other times and be perfectly content with their not-enough-money making, no aspirations, goals or hobby having, limited mental and social capabilities, less than stellar sexual performances, no damn domestic tendencies, high maintenance bitchassness, can't even change a light bulb let alone a flat tire asses.
I am not a man-basher but fair is fair. Men these days just want too fucking much. I try to behave in a calm and serene manner towards men--if only to shut these dudes up who keep telling me that black women have too much mouth and attitude and so that I can see what my options would be if I were a white girl (or any non-black woman that black men claim they look to for refuge after being destroyed, humiliated, neglected and unappreciated by black women, booo-motherfucking-hoo!) and honestly, these options don't look too good.
I have found myself wishing a lot lately that I was born a man so I could do any-damn-thing I want. The other day a man, after listening to me bitch about double-standards between men and women replied, "well if you don't like double standards, you should have been born with a cock!" **obnoxious laugh** And honestly, he was right. But something deep inside me thinks I actually was supposed to be born with a cock because I think and behave like I'm told a man should. I expect the world to be fair. I am a little self-centered. An unequal relationship just does not compute for me. I don't understand the point of sex if I'm not being pleased. Apparently, these ideas are revolutionary for women. I thought it was just part of being treated with respect!
Monday, August 26, 2013
How I used to feel about Beyonce
Today I came across cold hard proof that I didn't always drink the Beyonce kool-aid. Here is a expletive-infested tirade I wrote about her in the summer of 2003 when "Crazy in Love" had just come out:
Damn. I used to say "fuck" a LOT!
People! That "Crazy in Love" video is a fucking soft-porn. The first time I saw it I was speechless. I felt like I had been tainted. I mean what the fuck? Beyonce has talent and she's beautiful. Why the fuck does she feel the need to gyrate and roll around on the street in her panties to make money? The worst thing is that the shit is HER song. She's not some video hoe in Jay-Z's video. She's the fucking artist exploiting herself! It's her video, her song and all she could come up with the video is running around in lingerie? C'mon. The only good thing that came out of that video is the "uh-oh" booty dance. Many, many good nights at the club have been jump-started with that wonderful little move. As for the song itself, those horns can get pretty fucking annoying when the DJ plays them over and over again before starting the song. But I can't deny that that song overflows with energy. I prefer her other song with Sean Paul though. You know the song. I can't think of the title. It goes "Baby boy you stay on my mind fulfill my fantasies." Yeah, that one.
Oh, and by the way. That fucking ugly, bad-singing bitch Lumidee(or however you spell her dumb name) is fucking singing that uh-oh shit right out-fucking-side my window right now and NO I don't like it. That song was annoying when it first came out and I just didn't want to admit it cause everyone liked it. But people, don't you realize, you don't like the song, it's just impossible to get the shit out of your head so you decide to like it cause you gonna be singing it for a long ass time. The bitch sounds like she's whining on the playground in kin-deee-gaarten. If anyone sang that way in my presence, it would vex me beyond belief. I would take a basketball and chuck it directly at their face repeatedly until they stopped. Please don't believe the hype. You don't like that horrible song.
Damn. I used to say "fuck" a LOT!
Thursday, April 4, 2013
Beyonce, the Heartbreaker (you've got the best of me)
I have always stayed quiet about the Beyonce hype... well, "always" is relative. But, I know a lot of people really like her- including the Obamas. And including my dear friend, Kayla, whose opinions I respect. Anyway, I wasn't surprised that Bey ripped out her heart. I kinda think that Beyonce ruins everything. The inauguration, the power grid at the Super Bowl, and the axiom for black women's looks are just a few examples. But, I tried to like her. I like "Love on Top." I don't really like much of her other solo work, but I attribute that to my general taste in music.
Anyway, back to Kayla's heart. First, she was offended that Bey named the song "Bow Down." I was not too offended because, sometimes Bey is ratchet. eg. "Ring the Alarm," chinchilla coats!?! Ok, Pimps-R-Us frequent shopper! Second, there was the cussing- especially "bitches." I was surprised at this. Bey doesn't cuss! (or didnt used to-- but today is her and Jay-Z's 5 year anniversary, and I think a lot of women's language gets more colorful during marriage). I know Bey considers herself a feminist. I also know there are a lot of ways to be feminist. She did write a song about who "Run the World," but it's (Girls), not women...hmmmm...no comment.
When I first heard the song, I thought it was nothing I would want to dance to, but I was happy that Mike Jones was working again. I had just been trying to remember his phone number and here he was! Then, I realized it's Beyonce the whole time!! I should have known because Beyonce ft. Mike Jones would've appeared on some headline. Also, sometimes she doesn't work with others. She does most of her own backup vocals and, even at the Super Bowl, she did much of her back-up dancing- with those giant screens and her video duplicates. She did allow Michelle and Kelly to make an apperance--how nostalgic *sigh*
Then -back to "Bow Down"- to exacerbate matters, Rush Limbaugh got into the mix.** Beyonce brought Rush into the media's commentary of R&B. Like I said, she ruins everything!! He interpreted her song to mean that women should bow down, know their place, and accept a good man when they have one. Oh, Rush! We already know nothing is too unimportant for him, especially when he can use it to make black people, Obama, women, or anything liberal look bad. So, it's not entirely her fault. Bey is just always in a place that has wide-reaching effects. I guess that is what super stardom and "queen-ality" is.
So, in conclusion, I am sorry to all those who have been hurt, shocked, offended, insulted by Beyonce. All I can advise is to let her have her pedestal, but to keep it in the realm of music, and *gulp* fashion. (But don't tell that to PETA. She is always angering them because she wears a lot of animals. Again, no comment)If you recognized the title from another R&B Royal... all I can say is, Bey is no Mariah! I had a vision of a pop/R&B queen and it was not what Beyonce turned out to be.
Monday, March 18, 2013
Tonight, Beyonce Shattered my Heart
"I've got drafts written for this very blog extolling this bitch as the post-modern feminist and she pulls THIS SHIT?! Now I can't even publish the shit."
OK. OK. Let me rewind. I'm Sorry. I'm gonna try to make this coherent and succinct but its going to be hard as BEYONCE JUST SHATTERED MY FUCKING WORLD!
Oh, expletive warning y'all. My emotions are running high.
I don't have the time or the emotional wherewithal to explain to you just how much I loved Beyonce. I don't have the time to explain that I was very sure about my love because she had to work hard to earn since I hated her for a while (see, I can't even write proper sentences cause my stomach is upset and I feel like I might have a stroke).
I'm trying to explain to you how earth-shattering this is for me. I want to make sure you know that I loved Beyonce fiercely for some concrete reasons. I loved her level of innovation as a musician. Her talent as a vocalist. I loved her work ethic, her classic appeal. I loved her commitment to performing and doing it well. I loved her strength as a woman. I consider myself a feminist and I LOVE women who lift up other women. One of the reasons I loved Beyonce is because I felt she did this in her own way.
Well who the fuck told me to scroll down my damn Facebook newsfeed tonight? I don't know why I did it. I was getting ready to go to bed. I wasn't even prepared to have my world rocked like this. But, lo and behold, I'm scrolling down my newsfeed and I see this:
So I'm like, WTF? The Beyonce I love wouldn't say something so brazenly obnoxious. Yes, she gets a little playful with her banter sometimes but, "bow down?" I was immediately offended.
Little did I know, this was just the tip of the iceberg! Then, I discovered the song. Please try to listen to the whole thing. I know its hard. (Note to Beyonce, if you're going to make an obnoxious, disrespectful song, at least make it sound good!):
SIGH.
I am beyond disappointed. I've been fiercely defending this woman for years and she makes me look like an idiot with this shit!? This goes against everything I stand for as a woman. I cannot be who I am and continue to love and support an artist that thinks this shit is OK. I don't know what happened to her brain but she was way off with this. I know she's trying to push the envelope and break out of this image the world has of her but I happen to like the classic Beyonce. The woman who left it all on the stage. Who didn't care if people thought she was boring and simple because she consistently killed it in the studio and in concert. The Beyonce I love wouldn't stoop to the level of addressing her haters this way because she would know it's not worth losing the self-respecting fans she has who don't give a fuck about her struggle to be "relevant." The Beyonce I love let her music speak for her, not the other way around. If I wanted to listen to another record calling me a bitch, I would just turn on the hip-hop station.
Why does Beyonce think her fans want her to be Rihanna?! Why did she take it there? Clearly, we know you are an amazingly talented person but did Michael Jackson ever release a record like this? No! He went as far as "Bad" and that's it. Maybe "Leave me Alone" but he made it clear who he was talking to (the papparazzi).
Why Bey! Why?!
I have to stop here. I'm starting to ramble.
More later. I have to pull myself together somewhat.
OK. OK. Let me rewind. I'm Sorry. I'm gonna try to make this coherent and succinct but its going to be hard as BEYONCE JUST SHATTERED MY FUCKING WORLD!
Oh, expletive warning y'all. My emotions are running high.
I don't have the time or the emotional wherewithal to explain to you just how much I loved Beyonce. I don't have the time to explain that I was very sure about my love because she had to work hard to earn since I hated her for a while (see, I can't even write proper sentences cause my stomach is upset and I feel like I might have a stroke).
I'm trying to explain to you how earth-shattering this is for me. I want to make sure you know that I loved Beyonce fiercely for some concrete reasons. I loved her level of innovation as a musician. Her talent as a vocalist. I loved her work ethic, her classic appeal. I loved her commitment to performing and doing it well. I loved her strength as a woman. I consider myself a feminist and I LOVE women who lift up other women. One of the reasons I loved Beyonce is because I felt she did this in her own way.
Well who the fuck told me to scroll down my damn Facebook newsfeed tonight? I don't know why I did it. I was getting ready to go to bed. I wasn't even prepared to have my world rocked like this. But, lo and behold, I'm scrolling down my newsfeed and I see this:
So I'm like, WTF? The Beyonce I love wouldn't say something so brazenly obnoxious. Yes, she gets a little playful with her banter sometimes but, "bow down?" I was immediately offended.
Little did I know, this was just the tip of the iceberg! Then, I discovered the song. Please try to listen to the whole thing. I know its hard. (Note to Beyonce, if you're going to make an obnoxious, disrespectful song, at least make it sound good!):
SIGH.
I am beyond disappointed. I've been fiercely defending this woman for years and she makes me look like an idiot with this shit!? This goes against everything I stand for as a woman. I cannot be who I am and continue to love and support an artist that thinks this shit is OK. I don't know what happened to her brain but she was way off with this. I know she's trying to push the envelope and break out of this image the world has of her but I happen to like the classic Beyonce. The woman who left it all on the stage. Who didn't care if people thought she was boring and simple because she consistently killed it in the studio and in concert. The Beyonce I love wouldn't stoop to the level of addressing her haters this way because she would know it's not worth losing the self-respecting fans she has who don't give a fuck about her struggle to be "relevant." The Beyonce I love let her music speak for her, not the other way around. If I wanted to listen to another record calling me a bitch, I would just turn on the hip-hop station.
Why does Beyonce think her fans want her to be Rihanna?! Why did she take it there? Clearly, we know you are an amazingly talented person but did Michael Jackson ever release a record like this? No! He went as far as "Bad" and that's it. Maybe "Leave me Alone" but he made it clear who he was talking to (the papparazzi).
Why Bey! Why?!
I have to stop here. I'm starting to ramble.
More later. I have to pull myself together somewhat.
Saturday, December 29, 2012
Neda Soltani and the failure of modern-day journalism
Just heard a story on NPR about Neda Soltani, an Iranian woman who is now a political exile because the media mistakenly used her Facebook photo to represent a dead political activist with a similar name. The whole story is unbelievable, terribly sad and eerie (we have the same exact DOB). But what is really powerful to me is how shitty and inept the press has become. This woman sent the proper information to several news outlets, including CNN and they completely ignored it. She sent another news agency a different photo of herself to further prove the error and they published it as a new exclusive pic of the dead girl! Listen to the story here:
There are no more journalists. The media has been failing us for quite some time. They don't even deserve the benefit of the doubt. We're going to have to start fact-checking the news ourselves.
When the kids got killed in Newtown, CT, a number of major news outlets reported completely inaccurate information in their rush to get the story out first. What the hell is the point of the news if it's wrong?! I could just ask Pookie down the block for the scoop if I want some "He said, She said."
It's just a damn shame...
There are no more journalists. The media has been failing us for quite some time. They don't even deserve the benefit of the doubt. We're going to have to start fact-checking the news ourselves.
When the kids got killed in Newtown, CT, a number of major news outlets reported completely inaccurate information in their rush to get the story out first. What the hell is the point of the news if it's wrong?! I could just ask Pookie down the block for the scoop if I want some "He said, She said."
It's just a damn shame...
I have watched myself become mean and ornery. I have caught glimpses of the trajectory my life could take if I stay on this path of misery and bitterness. I will be mean and alone. Right now, I'm alone by choice because I don't feel like being around people. But one day, I'm gonna be alone because nobody wants to be around my miserable negative ass. It's gonna be like, "Oh Kayla? I can only take her in doses." And forget about a relationship with a man! Can you imagine? I won't be able to coexist and compromise with a man for the sake of a happy relationship. I'll just be an angry bitch who would rather be by herself than deal with the occasional inconvenience of a man's presence.
I know women like this. And with no disrespect to them, I'm not trying to be that person. But damn, I can sure as hell see how easy it is to get to that place. It's much easier to become bitter and jaded than to get up and try to be happy everyday. It's almost more natural too. I mean, think about it. What kind of idiot gets knocked down and keeps getting back up only to be knocked down again? How long does a person continue to do that before giving up?
I'm still fighting the good fight to stay engaged and hopeful but acknowledging that it's hard as hell!
I know women like this. And with no disrespect to them, I'm not trying to be that person. But damn, I can sure as hell see how easy it is to get to that place. It's much easier to become bitter and jaded than to get up and try to be happy everyday. It's almost more natural too. I mean, think about it. What kind of idiot gets knocked down and keeps getting back up only to be knocked down again? How long does a person continue to do that before giving up?
I'm still fighting the good fight to stay engaged and hopeful but acknowledging that it's hard as hell!
Saturday, January 28, 2012
I love women!
I have a lot of love for women. No, not the romantic kind--although I often think that it would be much more logical than this whole dating men thing. I just have so much love for women. I want to put it out there because it is not popular to have so much love for women in this day. As a matter of fact, it seems to me that women hate women more than men do. During lunch today, my co-workers and I were discussing an article in the newspaper about a schoolteacher who had been having sexual affairs with his 14 year old students. Although everyone expressed the obligatory dismay at this man's actions, the conversation immediately centered on the "fast-ass girls" that he'd been sexing. My co-workers, man and woman alike, expressed such anger and disgust at these girls' whom I regarded as victims. They basically said that "these girls out here are nasty and loose" and "they were probably throwing themselves at the teacher."
Seriously? Let's pause for a moment. Can you think back to being 14 years old? I'm not good with remembering specific events in my past but I'm quite good at recalling a feeling or attitude I had. Many people don't consider these things when they judge a young persons actions and it makes me wish I could pay a visit their adolescent selves and see what they were like. But anyway, remember being 14? yeah... Do you remember having a crush on some sort of authoritarian? BTW, aren't those the BEST crushes? Even as an adult, they're my favorite. Something about power is so fucking sexy I just can't take it. Anyway, I'm pretty sure most of you can remember having a crush on a teacher or something. A child's judgement is not NEARLY as developed as ours. You see, we like to think of ourselves as so damn smart and together, absolutely forgetting all the tomfoolery and fuckery it took for us to learn the lessons that make us wise (subjectively, of course). You're not supposed to have perfect judgement at the age of 14. It's something that develops as you get older. Not only through one's experiences but through the continuing development of our brains. Why, oh why would an adult leave it to a child to have better judgement than an adult? Why the hell would someone blame a child for the impulsive behaviour that DEFINES childhood? How absurd is it to blame a child for being in a sexual relationship with a grown-ass man? Hasn't it been legally established that a child CANNOT GIVE CONSENT? So why then would an adult read this story and immediately blame the victims? Because they were females.
Think back to the last case where you heard about a female teacher having sexual relations with her male student. Do you remember a great deal of emphasis being put on the boy's lack of judgement and restraint? I remember these women being portrayed as sick, desperate, pitiful adults who have a very skewed set of values. So then why is it the girl's fault when she has sex with her teacher? I'm sorry, should young women KNOW better? Can a man not be blamed for his sexuality? Is it so much harder for a grown man to control himself than it is for an adolescent girl?
I wish I could say I was surprised but I've actually grown quite accustomed to this attitude. There are obviously a number of reasons why these double-standards piss me off but overall, it just makes me sad to live in a world that hates women. I was raised to love and respect other women and I look forward to the day I can teach my own daughter those values but I am so afraid to bring a little girl into this misogynistic environment. I don't know if it was my all-girls schooling, my female-centered household or that I am just a lesbian who hasn't come to terms with it yet but I have always felt comfortable loving women. I have never been intimidated by another woman's beauty or brains, just in awe of them. Of course, I often feel inadequate in comparison to the amazing women I have come into contact with but my response to that feeling is not to hate that woman but to revere, respect and love that woman. When I meet a woman who makes me feel inadequate, I strive to be more like that woman.
I suppose I grew up in a bubble. I went to school with only girls from 1st to 12th grade(!) My mother and grandmother raised me. My mother is and always has been the primary breadwinner in my house and she has always emphasized education and career over finding a man and looking pretty--so much so that I was an EXTREMELY late bloomer. All the women I grew up around were loving towards each other. Even when they had fights, I didn't see them take low-blows at each other. They supported each other, gave advice to one another and encouraged each others' progress and growth. I didn't fully realize until very recently that these women were not representative of most women. I honestly never thought women hated each other for stupid reasons. I always thought so highly of women. They're capable, intelligent, driven, selfless and considerate. I couldn't imagine that someone who was capable of so much good could tear someone else down especially when she understood how hard it is to be a woman in this world.
Perhaps many women don't understand how sexism plays a part in their everyday struggles. Perhaps they don't know how much more opportunity, respect, understanding and love men often receive. If they knew how much more pressure is out there for women, perhaps they would be a bit more empathetic to their fellow dame.
Seriously? Let's pause for a moment. Can you think back to being 14 years old? I'm not good with remembering specific events in my past but I'm quite good at recalling a feeling or attitude I had. Many people don't consider these things when they judge a young persons actions and it makes me wish I could pay a visit their adolescent selves and see what they were like. But anyway, remember being 14? yeah... Do you remember having a crush on some sort of authoritarian? BTW, aren't those the BEST crushes? Even as an adult, they're my favorite. Something about power is so fucking sexy I just can't take it. Anyway, I'm pretty sure most of you can remember having a crush on a teacher or something. A child's judgement is not NEARLY as developed as ours. You see, we like to think of ourselves as so damn smart and together, absolutely forgetting all the tomfoolery and fuckery it took for us to learn the lessons that make us wise (subjectively, of course). You're not supposed to have perfect judgement at the age of 14. It's something that develops as you get older. Not only through one's experiences but through the continuing development of our brains. Why, oh why would an adult leave it to a child to have better judgement than an adult? Why the hell would someone blame a child for the impulsive behaviour that DEFINES childhood? How absurd is it to blame a child for being in a sexual relationship with a grown-ass man? Hasn't it been legally established that a child CANNOT GIVE CONSENT? So why then would an adult read this story and immediately blame the victims? Because they were females.
Think back to the last case where you heard about a female teacher having sexual relations with her male student. Do you remember a great deal of emphasis being put on the boy's lack of judgement and restraint? I remember these women being portrayed as sick, desperate, pitiful adults who have a very skewed set of values. So then why is it the girl's fault when she has sex with her teacher? I'm sorry, should young women KNOW better? Can a man not be blamed for his sexuality? Is it so much harder for a grown man to control himself than it is for an adolescent girl?
I wish I could say I was surprised but I've actually grown quite accustomed to this attitude. There are obviously a number of reasons why these double-standards piss me off but overall, it just makes me sad to live in a world that hates women. I was raised to love and respect other women and I look forward to the day I can teach my own daughter those values but I am so afraid to bring a little girl into this misogynistic environment. I don't know if it was my all-girls schooling, my female-centered household or that I am just a lesbian who hasn't come to terms with it yet but I have always felt comfortable loving women. I have never been intimidated by another woman's beauty or brains, just in awe of them. Of course, I often feel inadequate in comparison to the amazing women I have come into contact with but my response to that feeling is not to hate that woman but to revere, respect and love that woman. When I meet a woman who makes me feel inadequate, I strive to be more like that woman.
I suppose I grew up in a bubble. I went to school with only girls from 1st to 12th grade(!) My mother and grandmother raised me. My mother is and always has been the primary breadwinner in my house and she has always emphasized education and career over finding a man and looking pretty--so much so that I was an EXTREMELY late bloomer. All the women I grew up around were loving towards each other. Even when they had fights, I didn't see them take low-blows at each other. They supported each other, gave advice to one another and encouraged each others' progress and growth. I didn't fully realize until very recently that these women were not representative of most women. I honestly never thought women hated each other for stupid reasons. I always thought so highly of women. They're capable, intelligent, driven, selfless and considerate. I couldn't imagine that someone who was capable of so much good could tear someone else down especially when she understood how hard it is to be a woman in this world.
Perhaps many women don't understand how sexism plays a part in their everyday struggles. Perhaps they don't know how much more opportunity, respect, understanding and love men often receive. If they knew how much more pressure is out there for women, perhaps they would be a bit more empathetic to their fellow dame.
Sunday, November 27, 2011
An Interracial Fix for Black Marriage - WSJ.com
An Interracial Fix for Black Marriage - WSJ.com
I think that this article does a good job of explaining the issues that educated black women face in a very direct and concrete way. You can't argue with statistics. Honestly, I don't understand why I should have to work so hard to find someone who wants to marry me. It's just not fair.
All I want is for the black men I know who constantly argue with me about this subject to read this and shut the fuck up. Don't say, "I love my Nubian sistAHs" or "I always knew I would end up with a black woman." Just understand what we're dealing with and don't give me advice on how to solve a problem that you have a part in perpetuating.
I shouldn't have to read a Steve Harvey book to find a man. I'm just saying.
I think that this article does a good job of explaining the issues that educated black women face in a very direct and concrete way. You can't argue with statistics. Honestly, I don't understand why I should have to work so hard to find someone who wants to marry me. It's just not fair.
All I want is for the black men I know who constantly argue with me about this subject to read this and shut the fuck up. Don't say, "I love my Nubian sistAHs" or "I always knew I would end up with a black woman." Just understand what we're dealing with and don't give me advice on how to solve a problem that you have a part in perpetuating.
I shouldn't have to read a Steve Harvey book to find a man. I'm just saying.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Angry Black Bitch
Tonight I will claim the title of angry black bitch! Normally, I don't take kindly to being called a bitch but tonight I just feel like cussing the shit out of everybody so I'll do it here. Kids, cover them ears.
I cannot even go into what pissed me off today because it was a barrage of serious fuck-ups including but not limited to the signing of a 2-yr lease for an apartment. Let's just say, it was too deep to get into details. What I have taken from the way I was treated today is that motherfuckers don't give me the courtesy and respect that I deserve and give to others. So, I have decided that I will definitely need a law degree. I have been going back and forth about law school some experiences of late have brought me to a seriously angry place because of the way I was treated. I felt powerless and I HATE that feeling. Although a law degree doesn't make me omnipotent, it does tend to make people believe that there may be significant repercussions for their bad behavior. Whether it's the threat of losing money to losing their freedom, lawyers can intimidate for real and I need some of that intimidation power. It's become clear to me, people only respond to heavily laden threats at times followed by action. As a lawyer, I can sue the shit out of motherfuckers that piss me off. At least I can send them a threatening letter that tells them how easily and successfully I can destroy their lives if they don't do right by me. At this point, without the degree, I'm simply appealing to people's absent consciences. I haven't been very successful.
Unfortunately, no matter how intelligent, well-spoken and fair you are, you can't make people treat you with respect and levity. I swear I'm going to break on the next person who insults my intelligence, talks down to me, cuts me off on the road (I consider that disrespectful, like it or not!), dismisses me, passes on their responsibilities at work to me and a host of other shit that just boils my blood.
I'm not Albert Einstein but I am quite intelligent. I am no Halle Berry but I am beautiful. And I ain't no Mother Teresa but I am definitely kind. For so many reasons, I am worthy of a lot more respect and consideration than I receive on a daily basis. There comes a point when you get sick and fucking tired of giving love, kindness, respect and positive energy to other people and not getting it back. There's only so much goodness I can put into the world without getting some back. I need to replenish my resources. This is why black women are given a bad rap! Black women are some of the most caring, kind women I know. Why then are we labeled as angry and abrasive? I know! Because we get to a motherfucking point when we get tired of doing right by motherfuckers when no-motherfucking-body is doing right by us! There is only so much a person can take. I can't keep giving. I need some goodness for myself.
Let me tell you something: I know I am an amazing human being. I don't have to guess. You know why? Because I put a lot of effort and thought into how I treat other people. I am not always successful in being as good to others as I would like but I can sincerely say that I am constantly striving to be better. You know what? Other motherfuckers don't give a fuck about how they treat other people. They are concerned with getting money. They want money and power so that they don't HAVE to treat people like me with respect. Silly me. I've been living my life by The Golden Rule all this time, believing that the good I put out into the universe will come back to me somehow. Right now, I am not feeling one iota of goodness and, to be honest, I want my goodness back so I can use it on myself! If I spent half the energy I take trying to be good to others, I could be rich, powerful and happy myself. It's really something to think about.
I'm just tired of people half-assing shit with me. If I pay for a service, I expect that service to be worth the money I paid for it. Don't disrespect me as if I am getting that service for free. I deserve to be treated well. Don't assume that I don't understand something because I am a black woman. On the contrary, I tend to be significantly more intelligent than the people who try to talk down to me. Today, a woman who uses the phrase "for all intensive purposes" tried to convince ME that I did not understand the simple concept of an incentive. The problem was, she didn't understand the concept of professionalism and respect. Did I tell her that maybe she should think about what an intensive purpose was before she tried to school me? No, because I'm trying to be good.
A couple of weeks ago, a mechanic I brought my car to mistook me for a dumb bitch. You know how this goes. A little lady brings her car in because it's making a funny sound or something smells like it's burning and, because she's a little lady, she obviously has no idea what she's talking about. Furthermore, she couldn't possibly understand an explanation of basic car problems because she has a vagine! So, it must be necessary to speak to her like a child when you explain what's wrong with her car. I'm used to this shit. Yes it pisses me off to no end, but I'm not surprised by it anymore. This scenario, in particular was on a whole other level. After telling these mechanics that my car was stalling I listened to them tell me that the car did not stall when they drove it. When I told them that my car regularly rolls backwards while it's in drive and my foot is on the gas on a moderate hill, I was told that I may have "too much stuff" in the back of my car. Hmmm, so, all of a sudden this "stuff" is heavy enough to make a car in drive roll backwards down a hill? Let me make sure you understand that when I say "roll", I don't mean a couple of feet backwards. I mean yards. I mean that if I don't mash the brakes, turn the car off and back on again, I will be rolling back until kingdom come. I tried it a few times and I got angry honks from the people behind me who thought I was on a suicide mission. Normal? I'd say not. In their quest to prove that I'm dumb and don't understand cars, one of the mechanics asked me how long it takes my car to warm up once I start up the engine. When I replied that it takes a really long time and doesn't really warm up until I start driving, another mechanic proceeded to painstakingly show me how to TURN THE HEAT ON in a car I have owned for at least 4 winters. He pressed the little button and EARNESTLY explained to me that the light has to be on for me to feel the heat. Do you think he would have assumed that I was talking about the heat in my car if he thought me to be a truly thinking human being? Who doesn't know how to turn on the heat in a car they have owned for YEARS? Who doesn't know how to turn the heat on in a car they just got into? Come on!
What pisses me off is that I KNOW I'm more intelligent than most of the people who insult my intelligence. I suppose the reason they do so is precisely their lack of intelligence. It doesn't allow them to broaden their perspective enough to conceive of me as capable of complex thoughts. Even with this knowledge it still pisses me the hell off. I would say being treated like an idiot is one of my top three pet peeves. Exacerbating circumstances occur when I know that treatment is a result of me being a woman, being black or both. It often is.
By the way, I took the stuff out of the back of the car just for shits and giggles. I'll give you one guess as to whether that shit is still rolling backwards down hills at alarming rates. Any suggestions?
I cannot even go into what pissed me off today because it was a barrage of serious fuck-ups including but not limited to the signing of a 2-yr lease for an apartment. Let's just say, it was too deep to get into details. What I have taken from the way I was treated today is that motherfuckers don't give me the courtesy and respect that I deserve and give to others. So, I have decided that I will definitely need a law degree. I have been going back and forth about law school some experiences of late have brought me to a seriously angry place because of the way I was treated. I felt powerless and I HATE that feeling. Although a law degree doesn't make me omnipotent, it does tend to make people believe that there may be significant repercussions for their bad behavior. Whether it's the threat of losing money to losing their freedom, lawyers can intimidate for real and I need some of that intimidation power. It's become clear to me, people only respond to heavily laden threats at times followed by action. As a lawyer, I can sue the shit out of motherfuckers that piss me off. At least I can send them a threatening letter that tells them how easily and successfully I can destroy their lives if they don't do right by me. At this point, without the degree, I'm simply appealing to people's absent consciences. I haven't been very successful.
Unfortunately, no matter how intelligent, well-spoken and fair you are, you can't make people treat you with respect and levity. I swear I'm going to break on the next person who insults my intelligence, talks down to me, cuts me off on the road (I consider that disrespectful, like it or not!), dismisses me, passes on their responsibilities at work to me and a host of other shit that just boils my blood.
I'm not Albert Einstein but I am quite intelligent. I am no Halle Berry but I am beautiful. And I ain't no Mother Teresa but I am definitely kind. For so many reasons, I am worthy of a lot more respect and consideration than I receive on a daily basis. There comes a point when you get sick and fucking tired of giving love, kindness, respect and positive energy to other people and not getting it back. There's only so much goodness I can put into the world without getting some back. I need to replenish my resources. This is why black women are given a bad rap! Black women are some of the most caring, kind women I know. Why then are we labeled as angry and abrasive? I know! Because we get to a motherfucking point when we get tired of doing right by motherfuckers when no-motherfucking-body is doing right by us! There is only so much a person can take. I can't keep giving. I need some goodness for myself.
Let me tell you something: I know I am an amazing human being. I don't have to guess. You know why? Because I put a lot of effort and thought into how I treat other people. I am not always successful in being as good to others as I would like but I can sincerely say that I am constantly striving to be better. You know what? Other motherfuckers don't give a fuck about how they treat other people. They are concerned with getting money. They want money and power so that they don't HAVE to treat people like me with respect. Silly me. I've been living my life by The Golden Rule all this time, believing that the good I put out into the universe will come back to me somehow. Right now, I am not feeling one iota of goodness and, to be honest, I want my goodness back so I can use it on myself! If I spent half the energy I take trying to be good to others, I could be rich, powerful and happy myself. It's really something to think about.
I'm just tired of people half-assing shit with me. If I pay for a service, I expect that service to be worth the money I paid for it. Don't disrespect me as if I am getting that service for free. I deserve to be treated well. Don't assume that I don't understand something because I am a black woman. On the contrary, I tend to be significantly more intelligent than the people who try to talk down to me. Today, a woman who uses the phrase "for all intensive purposes" tried to convince ME that I did not understand the simple concept of an incentive. The problem was, she didn't understand the concept of professionalism and respect. Did I tell her that maybe she should think about what an intensive purpose was before she tried to school me? No, because I'm trying to be good.
A couple of weeks ago, a mechanic I brought my car to mistook me for a dumb bitch. You know how this goes. A little lady brings her car in because it's making a funny sound or something smells like it's burning and, because she's a little lady, she obviously has no idea what she's talking about. Furthermore, she couldn't possibly understand an explanation of basic car problems because she has a vagine! So, it must be necessary to speak to her like a child when you explain what's wrong with her car. I'm used to this shit. Yes it pisses me off to no end, but I'm not surprised by it anymore. This scenario, in particular was on a whole other level. After telling these mechanics that my car was stalling I listened to them tell me that the car did not stall when they drove it. When I told them that my car regularly rolls backwards while it's in drive and my foot is on the gas on a moderate hill, I was told that I may have "too much stuff" in the back of my car. Hmmm, so, all of a sudden this "stuff" is heavy enough to make a car in drive roll backwards down a hill? Let me make sure you understand that when I say "roll", I don't mean a couple of feet backwards. I mean yards. I mean that if I don't mash the brakes, turn the car off and back on again, I will be rolling back until kingdom come. I tried it a few times and I got angry honks from the people behind me who thought I was on a suicide mission. Normal? I'd say not. In their quest to prove that I'm dumb and don't understand cars, one of the mechanics asked me how long it takes my car to warm up once I start up the engine. When I replied that it takes a really long time and doesn't really warm up until I start driving, another mechanic proceeded to painstakingly show me how to TURN THE HEAT ON in a car I have owned for at least 4 winters. He pressed the little button and EARNESTLY explained to me that the light has to be on for me to feel the heat. Do you think he would have assumed that I was talking about the heat in my car if he thought me to be a truly thinking human being? Who doesn't know how to turn on the heat in a car they have owned for YEARS? Who doesn't know how to turn the heat on in a car they just got into? Come on!
What pisses me off is that I KNOW I'm more intelligent than most of the people who insult my intelligence. I suppose the reason they do so is precisely their lack of intelligence. It doesn't allow them to broaden their perspective enough to conceive of me as capable of complex thoughts. Even with this knowledge it still pisses me the hell off. I would say being treated like an idiot is one of my top three pet peeves. Exacerbating circumstances occur when I know that treatment is a result of me being a woman, being black or both. It often is.
By the way, I took the stuff out of the back of the car just for shits and giggles. I'll give you one guess as to whether that shit is still rolling backwards down hills at alarming rates. Any suggestions?
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Nappy-headed hoes and other musings
So I posted the following on Facebook this morning. "Lord forgive me for calling that girl a "nappy-headed hoe" last night. Although the name was astonishingly perfect, it still doesn't excuse me being mean." Surprisingly, I received a lot of feedback so I figured I would post about it here in more detail.
First of all, let me make it clear that I do not dislike nappy hair. I've been wearing my hair natural my whole life. It started with my mother not letting me get a perm until I reached a certain age. By the time she let me, I didn't want one anymore. Needless to say, I've been a "nappy-headed hoe" my whole life. I was natural before it was hip. I was perm-free before it became a badge of honor for everyday card-carrying Black Nationalist. When I was in my early teens people would continually ask me "So when are you going to get a perm?" and "Don't you think you're getting a little too old for the curly hair thing?" And then they'd try to use positive reinforcement every time I got a blow-out by telling me "You look so nice with straight hair. You should keep it that way!" My conservative Jamaican aunt would continually ask me if I'd combed my hair that day and my even more conservative 90-year old Jamaican aunt sincerely expressed concerns about why I was growing dreadlocks (I was not growing locks).
Even with those comments, I think most would agree, my hair has always looked "put together." I have always worn my natural hair extremely neatly. It's probably due to the fact that I cultivated my natural look in a time without much acceptance for natural hair in almost any state but I have always been obsessed with looking neat. Honestly, if I walk out the house looking wild, I have always secretly believed I looked akin to a runaway slave. I'm not even gonna lie.
That being said, I don't think that every girl who wears her hair natural should wear it conservatively. One should express their own personality with all aspects of their style. My personal penchance for structure (read:anal retentive OCD) is clearly expressed with the way I choose to style my hair but I see lots of women who wear a more whimsical style beautifully. For the record, I'm learning to break out of my strict Caribbean upbringing by letting my hair wild a little more often. People always respond with praise to my wild hair days.
Needless to say, I am not biased against a little wild nappyness. What I do not like is a woman who figures that, because her hair is natural, WHATEVER she chooses to do with it is a good look. Let's be real here. God made us naturally beautiful but he gave us hands for a reason. They should be used to arrange one's hair on their head in an aesthetically pleasing form. At least that is what I believe. I am tired of girls using natural hair as an excuse to come out their house looking tore up. These women are giving natural hair a bad name.
I bumped into a girl like this last night. Actually, she bumped into me. That's why she became the object of this post. To be honest, if she had never started bumping into me and my friend repeatedly and unnecessarily while dancing off-beat and flailing her horrible hair in our faces, I would have just regarded her as a poor girl who hadn't quite mastered her hair yet. But it was this bothersome behaviour that made her the target of my ire and thus christened her "the nappy-headed hoe."
There were actually a number of nappy-headed hoes at the party I went to last night. I'm not surprised as "The Freedom Party" is pretty much their scene. I have nothing but love for The Freedom Party. I am now officially too old to be going to parties where the DJ is going through the top-played 10 Hot 97 records of the past 10 years. The Freedom Party is where music lovers come to church. It's a party where everyone is focused on the music and they're singing along to every word.
This party attracts a different crowd. At their best, they are naturally beautiful, intelligent positive people of color who want to go to a party with a good vibe and not have to hear about bitches crawling from the window to the wall with skeet skeet skeet on their backs getting superman'd and all other types of ignorance. At their worst, they attract a bunch of self-righteous negroes who believe their education and enlightenment give them the right to look down on people whose hair doesn't look like a bird's nest and don't feel the need to always wear earth-toned linens and "I *heart* my hair" tees to prove they love black people.
Last night, the balance was off. There were some beautiful positive people there just having a great time dancing to the music but they were overpowered by a number of nappy-headed hoes who looked like they ran out of moisturizer before they finished their hairstyle so they had to pretend that's how they meant to look. The particular young lady that I took issue with looked as if she actually worked hard to make her hair look dry and trashy. I wish I had a picture but I'll try to paint a picture for you all. The hair was dyed reddish brown. A hair color that you think only still exists in a Blaxploitation film. It's definitely not a modern auburn. I don't even think this color comes in a box. It looked like she poured scalding hot water on one of my mother's sweaters from the 70's until the color began to bleed and then soaked her hair in it. I didn't know hair color could be vintage until I looked at hers.
Anyhoo, the hair looked in need of a wash. It wasn't curly but it wasn't knotty throughout. Just at the ends, like she had attempted to run a comb through it but gave up and only succeeded in pushing all the naps to the end. Is this a style? No, seriously. Because I'm seeing a lot of women with this and it honestly looks like they didn't finish combing their hair. Anyway, it seems that once she gave up on "combing it through", she then haphazardly placed a few bobby pins in various parts of the hair with no rhyme or reason. Furthermore, I don't even know what she was attempting to hold with those pins. What resulted was a badly clipped, un-sexy mess.
Maybe the bad lighting did her wrong. If that's the case, I sincerely apologize to that nappy-headed hoe for so harshly judging her. Unfortunately, it's more likely that she was just a nappy-headed hoe. And in accordance with her "free spirit" hairstyling, this black lovechild was swaying back and forth like she was auditioning for Alvin Ailey and not in the middle of a packed party in a Brooklyn basement.
The first 10 times she bumped into me, I thought, "Fine. She's having a good time and has a loosely held concept of personal space. I'm not gonna get angry because this is a party of positive people." Seriously, I really have to talk myself down in these situations. I have an anger management problem. This is my self-help. But after being bumped and pushed around for a half-hour, I could make no more excuses. This nappy-headed hoe was about to get it.
So, I pulled out the comb I usually carry around in my purse for moments like this and placed myself behind her carefully so I could be perfectly poised for the task at hand. I waited until a song transition when my nappy-headed friend would undoubtedly hesitate before failing at an attempt to catch the beat of a new song and grabbed her by the forehead. I tackled her and pinned her down to the ground like a wrestler or like my mother used to do me on Sunday nights after a laborious whole day of hair-washing and proceeded to run a comb from the roots of her hair to the ends. But alas, the task I had taken on was more than I could have ever imagined. The comb would not move. The hair was much too dry. So I called for back up.
"Joanne!" I cried to my friend. "Please grab that spray bottle and carrot cream from my purse!" Joanne gave me the tools I desired and I went to work. My nappy-headed friend didn't know what hit her. By the time she figured it all out I had moisturized and combed those ends, rearranged those sadly placed pins and made this child a woman again. I let her up (I had been holding her down this whole time) and she slowly and incredulously placed her hands on her hair. Smiling slowly, she realized what had been done and thanked me. The young man dancing with her thanked me even more for she had been assaulting his face with her dry-ass hair. I put my tools away and went back to dancing, secure in the knowledge that I was changing the world, one nappy-headed hoe at at a time
Disclaimer: I shouldn't need one because this is my blog and I can be as ign'ant as I want on here but I love black women and I want to make sure that it's clear how much I love natural hair of all textures, fully support black women going natural and have never used the n'word (nappy) so much in my life. Please know that I have no problem with nappy-headed hoes. I have a problem with dry-ass, lazy hair-styled hoes.
First of all, let me make it clear that I do not dislike nappy hair. I've been wearing my hair natural my whole life. It started with my mother not letting me get a perm until I reached a certain age. By the time she let me, I didn't want one anymore. Needless to say, I've been a "nappy-headed hoe" my whole life. I was natural before it was hip. I was perm-free before it became a badge of honor for everyday card-carrying Black Nationalist. When I was in my early teens people would continually ask me "So when are you going to get a perm?" and "Don't you think you're getting a little too old for the curly hair thing?" And then they'd try to use positive reinforcement every time I got a blow-out by telling me "You look so nice with straight hair. You should keep it that way!" My conservative Jamaican aunt would continually ask me if I'd combed my hair that day and my even more conservative 90-year old Jamaican aunt sincerely expressed concerns about why I was growing dreadlocks (I was not growing locks).
Even with those comments, I think most would agree, my hair has always looked "put together." I have always worn my natural hair extremely neatly. It's probably due to the fact that I cultivated my natural look in a time without much acceptance for natural hair in almost any state but I have always been obsessed with looking neat. Honestly, if I walk out the house looking wild, I have always secretly believed I looked akin to a runaway slave. I'm not even gonna lie.
That being said, I don't think that every girl who wears her hair natural should wear it conservatively. One should express their own personality with all aspects of their style. My personal penchance for structure (read:anal retentive OCD) is clearly expressed with the way I choose to style my hair but I see lots of women who wear a more whimsical style beautifully. For the record, I'm learning to break out of my strict Caribbean upbringing by letting my hair wild a little more often. People always respond with praise to my wild hair days.
Needless to say, I am not biased against a little wild nappyness. What I do not like is a woman who figures that, because her hair is natural, WHATEVER she chooses to do with it is a good look. Let's be real here. God made us naturally beautiful but he gave us hands for a reason. They should be used to arrange one's hair on their head in an aesthetically pleasing form. At least that is what I believe. I am tired of girls using natural hair as an excuse to come out their house looking tore up. These women are giving natural hair a bad name.
I bumped into a girl like this last night. Actually, she bumped into me. That's why she became the object of this post. To be honest, if she had never started bumping into me and my friend repeatedly and unnecessarily while dancing off-beat and flailing her horrible hair in our faces, I would have just regarded her as a poor girl who hadn't quite mastered her hair yet. But it was this bothersome behaviour that made her the target of my ire and thus christened her "the nappy-headed hoe."
There were actually a number of nappy-headed hoes at the party I went to last night. I'm not surprised as "The Freedom Party" is pretty much their scene. I have nothing but love for The Freedom Party. I am now officially too old to be going to parties where the DJ is going through the top-played 10 Hot 97 records of the past 10 years. The Freedom Party is where music lovers come to church. It's a party where everyone is focused on the music and they're singing along to every word.
This party attracts a different crowd. At their best, they are naturally beautiful, intelligent positive people of color who want to go to a party with a good vibe and not have to hear about bitches crawling from the window to the wall with skeet skeet skeet on their backs getting superman'd and all other types of ignorance. At their worst, they attract a bunch of self-righteous negroes who believe their education and enlightenment give them the right to look down on people whose hair doesn't look like a bird's nest and don't feel the need to always wear earth-toned linens and "I *heart* my hair" tees to prove they love black people.
Last night, the balance was off. There were some beautiful positive people there just having a great time dancing to the music but they were overpowered by a number of nappy-headed hoes who looked like they ran out of moisturizer before they finished their hairstyle so they had to pretend that's how they meant to look. The particular young lady that I took issue with looked as if she actually worked hard to make her hair look dry and trashy. I wish I had a picture but I'll try to paint a picture for you all. The hair was dyed reddish brown. A hair color that you think only still exists in a Blaxploitation film. It's definitely not a modern auburn. I don't even think this color comes in a box. It looked like she poured scalding hot water on one of my mother's sweaters from the 70's until the color began to bleed and then soaked her hair in it. I didn't know hair color could be vintage until I looked at hers.
Anyhoo, the hair looked in need of a wash. It wasn't curly but it wasn't knotty throughout. Just at the ends, like she had attempted to run a comb through it but gave up and only succeeded in pushing all the naps to the end. Is this a style? No, seriously. Because I'm seeing a lot of women with this and it honestly looks like they didn't finish combing their hair. Anyway, it seems that once she gave up on "combing it through", she then haphazardly placed a few bobby pins in various parts of the hair with no rhyme or reason. Furthermore, I don't even know what she was attempting to hold with those pins. What resulted was a badly clipped, un-sexy mess.
Maybe the bad lighting did her wrong. If that's the case, I sincerely apologize to that nappy-headed hoe for so harshly judging her. Unfortunately, it's more likely that she was just a nappy-headed hoe. And in accordance with her "free spirit" hairstyling, this black lovechild was swaying back and forth like she was auditioning for Alvin Ailey and not in the middle of a packed party in a Brooklyn basement.
The first 10 times she bumped into me, I thought, "Fine. She's having a good time and has a loosely held concept of personal space. I'm not gonna get angry because this is a party of positive people." Seriously, I really have to talk myself down in these situations. I have an anger management problem. This is my self-help. But after being bumped and pushed around for a half-hour, I could make no more excuses. This nappy-headed hoe was about to get it.
So, I pulled out the comb I usually carry around in my purse for moments like this and placed myself behind her carefully so I could be perfectly poised for the task at hand. I waited until a song transition when my nappy-headed friend would undoubtedly hesitate before failing at an attempt to catch the beat of a new song and grabbed her by the forehead. I tackled her and pinned her down to the ground like a wrestler or like my mother used to do me on Sunday nights after a laborious whole day of hair-washing and proceeded to run a comb from the roots of her hair to the ends. But alas, the task I had taken on was more than I could have ever imagined. The comb would not move. The hair was much too dry. So I called for back up.
"Joanne!" I cried to my friend. "Please grab that spray bottle and carrot cream from my purse!" Joanne gave me the tools I desired and I went to work. My nappy-headed friend didn't know what hit her. By the time she figured it all out I had moisturized and combed those ends, rearranged those sadly placed pins and made this child a woman again. I let her up (I had been holding her down this whole time) and she slowly and incredulously placed her hands on her hair. Smiling slowly, she realized what had been done and thanked me. The young man dancing with her thanked me even more for she had been assaulting his face with her dry-ass hair. I put my tools away and went back to dancing, secure in the knowledge that I was changing the world, one nappy-headed hoe at at a time
Disclaimer: I shouldn't need one because this is my blog and I can be as ign'ant as I want on here but I love black women and I want to make sure that it's clear how much I love natural hair of all textures, fully support black women going natural and have never used the n'word (nappy) so much in my life. Please know that I have no problem with nappy-headed hoes. I have a problem with dry-ass, lazy hair-styled hoes.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Female Road Warrior
The best part of my day happened like this:
It's 1:45 pm and I'm pulling my well-loved (read, beat-up) minivan over on Third Avenue near 62nd Street to snag a parking spot that just opened up. My mother(professional back-seat driver) and I had been frantically looking for a spot because we were late for an appointment. As I quickly park in the spot, a middle-aged, heavy set white man who had been leaning on the meter exclaims:
"Whoa! You drive that van like a man!"
Me: "Why, thank you!"
Him: "Girl. I was standing here thinking that has got to be a man driving that van and then I see you!"
Me: *girly giggles and blushing*
That means a lot coming from a man. I take special pride in my ability to drive like a man. I can handle myself on the road. I'm a feminist and all, but when it comes to driving, it's an insult to call me a woman driver. Women drivers are hesitant, doubtful, passive and unfocused. When I'm driving, it is the main event. I'm not going to wait and see if the cab in front of me is going to pick up that group of drunk girls 50 feet ahead. I'm gonna overtake his ass so that I don't get caught behind him when he does. You feel me? You know what pisses me the hell off? I'm minding my business, speeding down the West Side Highway after another day of work and some blonde bitch in a black navigator nearly runs me into the damn Hudson river because she's yapping away on her cellphone. My thing is that if you don't weigh more than 150 pounds, you shouldn't be driving an SUV. I can't tell you how many times some little white girl has almost killed me because she can't drive a damn SUV. The worst part is that they're always alone in the car. Why are you driving an SUV alone?
One of my pet peeves is when random men on the street try to tell me how to operate my vehicle because I'm a woman. I can parallel park without keenly watching the vigorous hand motions you're making. I can do a broken u-turn without your guidance. I can merge into traffic and change lanes without your OK. I know I have breasts and I can look really cute and sweet to the untrained eye but I'm actually a crazy bitch behind the wheel. When you get in my car just put on your seat belt and prepare yourself for a thrilling (yet completely safe!) journey. I'm actually thinking of turning my minivan into a theme park ride. I'm just saying. Ask any of my friends how far-fetched that is.
But for real though, behind the wheel, I'm racist, sexist, classist (firefox says this isn't a word), ageist, homophobic, Islamophobic (I just wanted to say that)...you name it. Basically I hate everybody on the road that isn't me. I have a very specific and strongly held stereotype for every single type of driver and they're all negative! There are some neighborhoods I won't even drive through cause demographics have consistently proven them unnavigable! Yeah, this may sound horrible but I have tried and tested these theories. They are not coincidental!
One of my craziest moments in the car was one morning when I had to jump out of bed to move the car (street cleaning shit) and I hadn't combed my hair. This was when I was unemployed and lived on Second Avenue where they're building a subway! It was not a good combination. There were so few parking spaces that I would often park in a spot where I'd have to move my car early the next morning because, after driving around my neighborhood for hours falling asleep at the wheel, it was clear I wouldn't be getting the parking I needed that night. It also means that many a morning I overslept and ended up jumping out of my sleep and running out of the house wearing my baggy thermal underwear (which my boyfriend titled "the no-sex leggings") tucked into rain boots and a granny sweater to make sure I didn't get a ticket. Unemployed bitches cannot afford tickets. Anyhoo, I digress. This was a morning like any other but I suppose my hair was looking extra matted. I honestly didn't give a fuck because, if I remember correctly, I was having an emotionally dramatic personal crisis and just hated the world. So this dude believes I cut him off and he comes after me honking and cussing. Naturally, I respond in kind being lewd and lascivious as only I can be and I apparently shocked him because he got this horrified look on his face and said, "Go comb your hair!" He promptly speeds away leaving me, matted afro and all staring, dropped jaw in disbelief on how I just got played by this corny ass white man. I mean, yes, my hair looked a little wild but damn. My hair had nothing to do with it. That was a low blow. I drove home in silence. I guess he shut me the hell up.
Ahhh...driving in this city is a trip. Pun intended.
It's 1:45 pm and I'm pulling my well-loved (read, beat-up) minivan over on Third Avenue near 62nd Street to snag a parking spot that just opened up. My mother(professional back-seat driver) and I had been frantically looking for a spot because we were late for an appointment. As I quickly park in the spot, a middle-aged, heavy set white man who had been leaning on the meter exclaims:
"Whoa! You drive that van like a man!"
Me: "Why, thank you!"
Him: "Girl. I was standing here thinking that has got to be a man driving that van and then I see you!"
Me: *girly giggles and blushing*
That means a lot coming from a man. I take special pride in my ability to drive like a man. I can handle myself on the road. I'm a feminist and all, but when it comes to driving, it's an insult to call me a woman driver. Women drivers are hesitant, doubtful, passive and unfocused. When I'm driving, it is the main event. I'm not going to wait and see if the cab in front of me is going to pick up that group of drunk girls 50 feet ahead. I'm gonna overtake his ass so that I don't get caught behind him when he does. You feel me? You know what pisses me the hell off? I'm minding my business, speeding down the West Side Highway after another day of work and some blonde bitch in a black navigator nearly runs me into the damn Hudson river because she's yapping away on her cellphone. My thing is that if you don't weigh more than 150 pounds, you shouldn't be driving an SUV. I can't tell you how many times some little white girl has almost killed me because she can't drive a damn SUV. The worst part is that they're always alone in the car. Why are you driving an SUV alone?
One of my pet peeves is when random men on the street try to tell me how to operate my vehicle because I'm a woman. I can parallel park without keenly watching the vigorous hand motions you're making. I can do a broken u-turn without your guidance. I can merge into traffic and change lanes without your OK. I know I have breasts and I can look really cute and sweet to the untrained eye but I'm actually a crazy bitch behind the wheel. When you get in my car just put on your seat belt and prepare yourself for a thrilling (yet completely safe!) journey. I'm actually thinking of turning my minivan into a theme park ride. I'm just saying. Ask any of my friends how far-fetched that is.
But for real though, behind the wheel, I'm racist, sexist, classist (firefox says this isn't a word), ageist, homophobic, Islamophobic (I just wanted to say that)...you name it. Basically I hate everybody on the road that isn't me. I have a very specific and strongly held stereotype for every single type of driver and they're all negative! There are some neighborhoods I won't even drive through cause demographics have consistently proven them unnavigable! Yeah, this may sound horrible but I have tried and tested these theories. They are not coincidental!
One of my craziest moments in the car was one morning when I had to jump out of bed to move the car (street cleaning shit) and I hadn't combed my hair. This was when I was unemployed and lived on Second Avenue where they're building a subway! It was not a good combination. There were so few parking spaces that I would often park in a spot where I'd have to move my car early the next morning because, after driving around my neighborhood for hours falling asleep at the wheel, it was clear I wouldn't be getting the parking I needed that night. It also means that many a morning I overslept and ended up jumping out of my sleep and running out of the house wearing my baggy thermal underwear (which my boyfriend titled "the no-sex leggings") tucked into rain boots and a granny sweater to make sure I didn't get a ticket. Unemployed bitches cannot afford tickets. Anyhoo, I digress. This was a morning like any other but I suppose my hair was looking extra matted. I honestly didn't give a fuck because, if I remember correctly, I was having an emotionally dramatic personal crisis and just hated the world. So this dude believes I cut him off and he comes after me honking and cussing. Naturally, I respond in kind being lewd and lascivious as only I can be and I apparently shocked him because he got this horrified look on his face and said, "Go comb your hair!" He promptly speeds away leaving me, matted afro and all staring, dropped jaw in disbelief on how I just got played by this corny ass white man. I mean, yes, my hair looked a little wild but damn. My hair had nothing to do with it. That was a low blow. I drove home in silence. I guess he shut me the hell up.
Ahhh...driving in this city is a trip. Pun intended.
Monday, November 16, 2009
Schizophrenic moves
At this point, I think it's pretty safe to say I'm writing to myself. There's no way that any of the three readers I had at some point are still checking my blog every week or so after MONTHS of absolutely no signs of life. Nonetheless, I'm mustering up the courage to write, to talk to no one. I'm actually pretty good at that. I talk to myself all the time. I was actually talking to myself quite excitedly in the car today when I realized that people in other cars can see me and are most likely clever enough to notice that I am not singing along to the radio but more likely having a schizo-like conversation with one of the people who live within my head. So yeah, talking to myself should be cool.
Talking to myself
At this point, I think it's pretty safe to say I'm writing to myself. There's no way that any of the three readers I had at some point are still checking my blog every week or so after MONTHS of absolutely no signs of life. Nonetheless, I'm mustering up the courage to write, to talk to no one. I'm actually pretty good at that. I talk to myself all the time. I was actually talking to myself quite excitedly in the car today when I realized that people in other cars can see me and are most likely clever enough to see that I am not singing along to the radio but more likely babbling to myself. Fun times. Fun.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
What the hell is wrong with Mariah Carey? (in reference to her April 14th appearance on Oprah)
No, Seriously. What happened to her?
Watching her try to act human is like witnessing the scene at a party where the person who has had too much to drink is trying to convince everybody that she's okay to drive. It's just sad. Except, in this case, everybody seems to be believing her crazy ass.
It's really like a train wreck. First of all, let's address that crazy look that she always has on her face. That maniacal smile, like she's on serious uppers. I'm not knocking the drugs but that face makes me uncomfortable.
Yes, Mariah. That face.
Also, the singing. Has anyone noticed that she barely sings full out anymore and when she does it looks and sometimes sounds painful? I feel like she never fully recovered from that breakdown. What is the thing she does with her hands when she sings? It's as if she's trying to summon her voice from her body.
I think what makes me most uncomfortable (because that is the common denominator in all this: how uncomfortable she makes me) are her "mammy-isms". This is what I find most absurd about her. She comes off to me as the white girl who always hung out with black women but never quite fit in. You know that girl. She always liked black music and occasionally tried to inject some ebonics into her daily banter (much to the dismay of the black people around her). Yeah, she was cool enough but her mammy-isms would probably get out of hand every once in a while and you'd have to tell her to tone it down. Overall, you kept her around because she was pretty harmless and it's nice to have someone who idolizes the culture that just comes naturally to you.
Mariah Carey is that girl. Only, now that she's rich, she can buy black women to hang out with. Yes, I said "buy" because they don't seem like her real friends. Has anyone else noticed that she's been surrounded by fat black women since she got into the business? Look at all her early music videos, there's always some fat black women in them. I know she claims to be half black and that is odd to me because I was under the impression that her father is Venezuelan (or from somewhere about those parts) and last I heard, those people were not claiming Africa. Feel free to correct me.
Either way, it doesn't matter to me what you claim as long as you come off as sincere. Bottom line is: her mammy-isms make me waay uncomfortable and they are definitely NOT sincere. What put the icing on the cake was when she performed "Bye Bye" on Oprah. Honestly, talking about it just would take away from the larger effect. Let's just roll the tape.
Okay okay! I have to say something. "This is for my peoples who lost they grandmovas." What?! Not even Ms Mary J. Blige would be caught dead singing that line. It's just silly. There's no way that Mariah Carey actually talks like that and so she just sounds silly. Those crazy ass hand movements don't help. I think Mariah believes that she has a little Della Reese trapped underneath those balloons on her chest.
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