🐝Formation & Liberation 🐝

Outside Lincoln Financial Field; prepared to get in Formation Beyonce changed my outlook on life. Before the groans and eye rolls begin let me explain. This past weekend I flew to see the Queen herself in all her glory. No big deal, right? For me, it was. I sometimes envy women I see with so much freedom. Women who can at the drop of a dime go to the store at 1:30am. Or hit up the club on a last minute whim. As a married mother of 2, I don't get that.  Last minute store runs turn into a fiasco of a field trip because one kid cant find his shoe and the other wants to bring a hideous shrek doll for the ride. Sometimes is not even worth the fight. When I saw Beyonce's Super Bowl performance I was hooked. "Formation" gave me life and when "Lemonade" dropped a fire I didn't even know needed to be lit was sparked. When I told my husband I was going to see Beyonce he simply said, "Okay." Not really believing me. Anyone who knows me, knows that I'm a homebody. I would rather sit at home, glass of wine in hand, watching "Snapped." That's just me. Cincinnati clubs don't do much for me or maybe I'm still grappling with an internal battle I'm having within myself about whether married women belong in the club or not. Nonetheless I would rather be at home. It also doesn't help that I work weekends. While most people are tolling away Monday-Friday, and living for the weekend, I'm grinding it out Wednesday-Sunday. Yes that means I'm at work EVERY weekend. It's apparently a hard concept to grasp for some people.  I've been working weekends 5+ years now and I am pretty much used to it. I don't love it but it is what it is. So for me there are no such things as a weekend trip with the girls. Or a quick romantic getaway with the Mister. Even trying to get in the club for a quick drink and dab on the dance floor is work in itself. Did I mention getting time off is pretty difficult? Sure I have benefits and vacation time but getting it approved doesn't always happen and there are only certain times of the year when we are even allowed to request time off. As a mother I am constantly in "mommy mode" or family mode. My pure existence is now forever connected to two little people. Any decision I make is made with my children and husband in mind. I went on a business trip last summer and that was the first time I had truly ever spent time away from them. But going out of town for work is not the same as going out of town for fun. And this weekend proved to be so much more. Just the opportunity of going to bed without making sure the kitchen is clean and the kids have their pajamas on and are tucked in was a delight in itself. Being around ADULTS outside of a workplace setting was a pure joy. I went on this trip with two equally enthusiastic Beyhive members. They've seen 'Yonce in action multiple times. This would be my first. My Beyonce buddies are also two equally successful black women. And being with them, we met a group of other successful black women. All different backgrounds. It was one of the most beautiful experiences. To just sit and watch as we had champagne on the rooftop of one of the women's newly purchased row houses, I sat quietly taking it all in. A whole 'lotta black girl magic. Hearing random chatter that didn't include "get out my room!" or "she just hit me!" was so soothing. The concert itself was as amazing as I thought it would be. Seeing a stadium full of people to witness a black woman's magic was enough to put me on cloud 9. Each pop and lock had the crowd encouraging Bey as if we were her best friends cheering her on in a dance battle. A lot of "you better work" and "get it" phrases being thrown out there. I'm pretty sure tears welled up in my eyes as she so genuinely thanked us for being fans before going into her finale, ending the concert with "Halo." I didn't want it to end. In the days leading up to the trip it was still as if my husband didn't believe I was really going. He's so used to me being at home the thought of me actually traveling out of state for a concert was just wild to him. No shade to him, he just knows his wife really well. But from the moment I packed and had my suitcase at the door ready to go I felt liberated. My aunt came to pick me up and saw me with luggage. "Where you going? What you doing running away from your family?" I laughed. But now that I think about it -- hell yeah I was!  Sometimes I think as mothers some of us get so caught up in mothering, we forget about ourselves. This has to be selfie #3,279 in my phone of me and these crazy kids We forget to live. I know I have. My days are usually pretty similar. Wake up. Wake kids. Eat Breakfast. Take them to school. Go to work. Get off work. Get kids. Cook dinner. Do baths. Go to bed. Repeat. This trip gave me the confirmation I needed; there is nothing wrong with mommy having a break. There is nothing wrong with having fun away from your family. And the fact that everyone was so surprised about my trip lets me know I need to get out and start living more. And in the words of Beyonce: Sometimes you gotta go in the back of that closet and pull out ya freakum dress.    It's not a dress, but you get the point.

Treasured

2010 – pain shot through my breasts. It was a feeling I had never witnessed. And all of this was while I was out of town for a journalism seminar. Was I having multiple heart attacks? What was going on?

Turns out I was pregnant. My due date was January 18, 2011.

As the days inched closer to my daughter’s impending birth I continued to wonder about the little wonder growing inside of me. I have to admit, when I found out I was having a girl I was somewhat disappointed. Not disappointed in the sense of anger, I just had it in my head my first kid would be a boy – who in turn would look out for his little sister.

But as it turns out I couldn’t be more happy that I had my daughter first. She is such a natural at nurturing and caring for others. The moment I found out my grandmother died it was just me and the kids. At just two years old, Kura immediately sensed something was wrong and it was Kura who wiped my tears.

If her little brother cries – Kura is there – sometimes faster than me. The moment she opens her eyes in the morning, she goes over to her brother's bed to check on him.

 

 In just her three years on this Earth she has taught me so much about life and myself. I should have known what joy she would bring to my life. While most people complain about pregnancy – carrying Kura was easier than I ever imagined.

Morning sickness didn’t last long and I cannot remember a single complication. Labor was easy, too.  (Yes, I still had an epidural, my mama ain’t raise no fool)

I was admitted in the hospital at about 8 a.m. and by 5:30 p.m., just a day after my projected due date -- one of my greatest treasures was in this world.  In fact, the name Kura means treasure house in Japanese. (I bet you thought her name was made up)

And as I think back over these last three years -- my life has changed so much. My life now revolves around my kids. Friday is usually “hair day” – which consists of me fighting Kura to sit still and her telling me “that hurts!” or “stop ma-ma!” I don’t remember what I did on the regular before I met my baby girl.

And as we prepare to celebrate her birthday – I think of the many more birthdays to come. Soon she won’t think I’m the best thing ever. Soon she won't watch me in the mirror as I get ready and try to imitate every move I make. One day when I come home from work she won’t run to the door to the door to greet me. But until that happens I will treasure every moment with her.

Happy Birthday mommy’s baby!

 

 

Get it Right

The social network post that started it all…

 

My face at work as I hear police being called for a large unruly crowd b/c "some shoes came out today" and somebody done got arrested. We still doing all that for Js? I hope Jordan gon bail y'all out. Oh wait. He don't care that's why his shoes keep going up in price

So apparently that post didn’t sit well with some folks who called me out for “judging” others. First off, one of my BIGGEST pet peeves is for someone to go out of their way to zero in on your page all to be a negative dick. You don’t like what I posted so ummm why are you on this page? How many users are there online? You can’t find one person’s post you actually agree with?

Ok. Now back to the original post at hand. Now apparently I was being judgmental for not feeling that police should be called for an unruly crowd of people wanting to rock the newest pair of Js.

At first, I thought it was some white lady afraid of black people and the sight of a bunch of black people outside a store in a huge crowd was all too much for her pale little heart to cope with.

 But no, it was the store manager calling.

 Now wait a minute folks, Jordan has been dropping his $150+ shoes damn near every weekend for how long? And how many stories have we heard of fights breaking out, people getting robbed, killed all over some damn shoes?

Maybe it’s time that the black community starts judging its people. We need to start holding each other accountable and believing in one another. Don’t say well “they don’t know any better.” That’s a lame sorry excuse that doesn’t even work for children when they reach a certain age.

 

We should know and be better.

But as long as we claim to not judge or stay screaming “only God can judge me,” then we will forever be behind.

Why is it okay to be arrested all in the name of some 23s? I’ll admit I used to be out there with the masses, huddled up in the winter and baking in the summer just so I could say “I got them Js today.”

But then I got wiser and I also learned what it was like to have to pay bills. All of sudden spending a buck fifty on some shoes didn’t seem all that appealing – not when rent is due – not when I gotta go buy some groceries.

So my Facebook dissenter proceeded to call me an Uncle Tom and claim I didn’t like being black all because I’m calling my people out for acting a fool outside the shoe store.

So let’s get this straight (as if I really need to) I love my people – which is why I’m even in the news business. I’m tired of our young black men (and women now too) being posted on TV for the most trivial things. A mother who left her kids in the car for 20 minutes while she went in to check on a client of hers is not worth the 20 seconds of air time.

But a shooting right outside of a youth club is worth the air time. And my hopes are that while someone at home is watching we begin to hold each other accountable.

Why do these men constantly think it’s okay to let bullets fly within feet of an innocent bystander?

Maybe it’s because no one was judging when that would-be trigger man was doing something deemed minor years before he picked up the gun…Maybe people were giving excuses on how he “didn’t know any better.”

I’m not condemning anyone from going to get Jordan’s on a Saturday morning. If you can afford it—then more power to you. In fact, I’m somewhat envious of you because I can’t.

But let’s get it right; being able to afford some $150+ shoes means you can also afford your rent, food, utilities, car payments, daycare expenses and any other life essential as well.

So to my Facebook dissenter, you are mistaken.

I love my people that much that I will judge and I will call some shit out if I don’t like it.

Not because I think I’m any better than the next, but because I know that we as a people should be doing better and we will do better.

P.S. It took everything in me not to go in, but as I said we can do better. So I refrained myself as much as I possibly could. And just to show how polished I am, I decided not to name this guy, see below.

 

 

Black Woman, You Can Cry...

When we think of black women, one word often comes to mind. Strong.

From day one, we’re taught to be proud. We’re taught to be determined. We’re taught to be strong.

But no one taught us how to cry and laughing was also skipped over.

My grandmother used to have a saying when we were too loud or being too silly.

“Girls are to be seen, not heard.”

(Then she changed the “girls” to “kids” so this may really been her way to get kids to shut the hell up.)

But growing up how many of us have been scorned for acting too silly? What goes for black kids definitely did not go for white kids. They could play in the stores. It was deemed “cute.” Black kids playing in the store are terrors.

Historically, black women couldn’t cry nor laugh. Our families were being ripped from us and we had to be strong—strong for the family we still had left.

And now that hardness is still prevalent in black women of today.

We don’t believe love is for us. We don’t need a man because majority of the men we’ve dealt with have done us wrong.

Plus thugs don’t cry. Right?

Bullshit.

Every girl has cried over her first crush. You know the story. You like the cutest boy in the class but for some reason he never notices you or if he did it wasn’t the happily ever after fairytale you thought it would be.

Nonetheless, most black women seem to forget those tears in their adult years.

Look at the Facebook statuses…

“Fuck niggas. I’m getting money.”

“Never do I need a man for anything. I’m solo for life.”

“All I need in this world is me and my kids.”

This should be a serious wake-up call for not only black men but black women, too. There’s a culture of disdain among black women of today. Hate. Non-love.

This isn’t about the stereotypical “mad, neck-rolling black woman.” We’ve already attacked and destroyed that image.

This is the “I’m too hard to cry—too hard to love black woman.”

Black women, if you’re in love, it’s OK. Why is love not for us? Why is every other woman in the world worthy of love but we’re not?

Because of the undying strength and dedication we show, we deserve love and should crave it.

How sad is it to know there really are people in the world who do not know what it feels like to be loved.

Don’t let a false image get in the way of happiness.

You’re a woman. You like flowers. You like nice things. You like to be held. You like soft kisses on your forehead.

It’s OK.

You want to be loved.

Love really does conquer all.

What I Really Think of Kim & Kanye

It’s the classic tell-tale sign that white is still seen as right in the black community’s eyes. We hate to admit it but we do have a complexion bias.

Long hair is better. Lighter skin is better.

Which is why a woman who seems to have NO morals is sought after like the freshest pick from a fall harvest.

Kim Kardashian was only made famous when something that’s private and intimate for most people without three Xs as a last name was made public. The infamous sex tape with Ray J.

As a Kanye West fan I’m disappointed. When he hit the music scene he had a gorgeous black girl but somewhere along the journey she was dropped.

Then he made a no name stripper into a celebrity. Would Amber Rose have been chosen if she had a darker tint?

Now Kim Kardashian is Kanye West’s newest girl. But there’s nothing new about her.

We’ve seen Kimmy’s cakes and all her goods. Most men not looking for a serious relationship would drop a woman once he gets those goods.

Thanks to Ray J, pretty much every man in America has at least somewhat an idea of what Kim is like in the bedroom.

But yet she’s still a hot commodity.

Are we going to ignore the fact that she is essentially the whore of the entertainment industry?

Nevermind the sex tape.

Nevermind the multiple failed relationships.

Nevermind the two failed marriages—one that didn’t even last a full year.

While she’s not a white woman, she’s not black and it’s unnerving that our black men are gawking over this woman.

Don’t take it as hate. She’s a beautiful woman that in my opinion has made bad choices-- all which were done under the public’s watchful eye.

But this is more about black men.

Why is she more worthy of your love than a black woman?

Why is she more likely to turn your head than a black woman?

There are black women who are built just the same if not better, but those women are treated as nothing more than sexual objects.

Kim Kardashian is a renowned goddess.

A black woman with the same track record as Kimmy wouldn’t get the time of day when it comes to being respected. Hell, a woman can be with one man and automatically considered a hoe.

It’s hard to say what has our men so blind to the beautiful, unique, curvaceous women already in their backyards.

Why is it they will break their necks for a non-black woman but won’t even lift a finger for the women that look like their mothers, grandmothers and aunts?

Maybe the men can enlighten me.

Any takers?