If your pen could slip inside of me, I’d be satisfied entirely I’d never have to bare the screams of lonely or share my company with misery Miserably, I sit and soak in tears of agony drown myself in pitiful foolery Torturous it seems, you never really notice me I noticed how you write your … Continue reading IF…
This month has been quite magical indeed. I've time traveled to Sierra Leone circa 1993 and witnessed the brutal civil war first hand. I've had childhood cancer and reconstructed surgery that left me with a scar that could burden a generation. I've been homeless and forced to sell crack in order to … Continue reading My Magical Month of Memoirs
We loved Cartoon Network, playgrounds, and hide and go seek Cool aid smiles, jumping rope, giggles, and Mr. frosty These are the things that kept us happy And although our streets would sometimes reek of drugs and feces To care, we were too young. To notice, we were too naïve. Oblivious we were … Continue reading All we wanted to do was play. . .
Physical pain is almost a luxury, compared to its emotional counterpart. I cut I bawl my hand into a fist. I put a blade to my wrist And I cut, and I cut until the pain does not exist I mutilate until self-hate escapes from my eyes And I cut for torturous … Continue reading I cut.
Hey Little Miss Sunshine can you come and shine so bright over here? I was just wondering if you had some light that you could spare Because I’m so cold and I’m so lost and I’m afraid I can’t go on So Little Miss Sunshine can you come and keep me warm? Although … Continue reading Hey Little Miss Sunshine: Poem
Slowly, she uses a damp towel to wipe the flowing blood from her thighs, her cries were ignored by a mother in denial and a sister who only days ago wore the same blood-stained pain. Her eyes are dry, for tears no longer kissed her cheeks, and bravery does not live nor speak for … Continue reading Lifeless
Strong. Black. Woman. What does that mean? We are the cold, career-obsessed and never to be married. We are the over-educated and indefatigable. We are the ones who do not need help. We are the “hood-rats” on World Star and Reality TV. We are not believed when raped or not searched when missing. We are the scary bogey women on America’s doorsteps in the middle of the night. We are never to be vulnerable, even when we are breaking emotionally or physically. Being called a strong black woman may seem empowering but it’s a hindering myth and a troublesome burden. I wanted to share this article/blog post because not only is it eloquently written it’s a necessary, thought-provoking analysis of a term we see/hear so very often in media and in our personal lives. Currently, I am dealing with most of the emotions mentioned above, I am stressed, overwhelmed, and vulnerable but I have no one to share these feelings with. When I do, I am met with comments such as “oh girl, you’ll be fine. You good” or “be strong, you got this” or my fav “let it go, just pray”. While I know these people mean well, their advice is empty and a bit rehearsed. Where is the realness? I would like to hear how it is okay to cry, to be vulnerable, to scream. . . to simply live in the moment of these emotions instead of shunning them or masking them. Sometimes I don’t want to “got this” I want to say freely that I am stressed and I don’t know what to do and I want the person I am speaking to, to be okay with that. I don’t have to be strong all the damn time. I am human (unfortunately, lol) and I have human emotions. Please if you don’t read anything else, read this beautifully, necessary blog post and hopefully you’ll be a little more cautious when you speak to the women in your life. Peace
When Maxine Waters told Bill O’Reilly that she was a strong Black woman that couldn’t be intimidated, Black women across the country rejoiced and applauded her words. We understood exactly what she meant, and precisely what Bill O’Reilly represented: the intersection of racism, sexism, and patriarchy.
We face this unique and particularly oppressive combination each day, in every facet of our lives, and have done so for as long as any of us can remember. Even as little girls, we’re taught thatwe’ve got tobestrong enough to endure the tribulations that will inevitably come our way because of our skin and gender. And like many little Black girls, I grew into a Black woman who internalized these beliefs. I embraced them. I took pride in the fact that I could handle any crisis that came my way, without so much as batting an eye. I could endure any abuse or pain…
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