I haven't posted in a while and it's not for lack of trying. I've started posts and not finished them. It's partially a function of being busy. And partially a realization that it was very easy to share with strangers and the whole wide world everything that was going wrong. And now that things are right - I don;'t want to share. Lord help me, but I'm turning into Beyonce and considering my relationship "sacred" or whatever the celebrity buzzword for mind your own business is.
I guess now would have been the more interesting to have been writing. Goodness and my own attempts at googling have revealed that there's few resources for black girls dating Asian guys. If I was clever or witty, I'm sure I could have retrieved a few blog postings from lunch with his mom, or Thanksgiving dinner (oh the drama of what to wear and what to bring), or the day of shopping with his mom and godmother. There's also the stares, the quizzical looks, the strangers feeling the need to comment on our Benetton-ad cuteness.
But at the end of the day, as much as some of it is undoubtedly cultural, and I do google what to say or do or bring, a lot of it isn't. I'm not sure when I stopped freaking out that I had an Asian boyfriend and just freaked out about having a boyfriend, and then stopped freaking out at all. I've never felt this secure and confident in or about a relationship. Which is why I don't need to write paragraphs and paragraphs and paragraphs about it here, because there's nothing to digest or stress about or ramble about. It just is. And that's nice.
So I guess I need to think of other things to be brilliant and fabulous about since I have this part of my life figured out...stay tuned
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Oldie but goodie: Love Matters
In the run up to the November 4th election and the vote in California on Proposition 8, a ballot initiative that would place an anti-gay marriage amendment on the CA constitution, I've decided to re-post an article from my old blog. I wrote it on Valentine's Day 2006. Since then, the Supreme Courts in California and Connecticut have issued decisions allowing gay marriage. There's the possibility that history and the courts may be moving in the direction of equality. Unfortunately, some people choose to use fear and bigotry to push through ballot measures that would undo years of work and place hate into the supreme law of the most populous state in the union.
Today is Valentine's Day. A day when couples around the nation (world?) celebrate love and happiness and other gushy stuff that I couldn't care less about.
That said, I feel compelled to use today to post about Marriage Equality. This is the day of the year that is about love (ok, and chocolate) and the greatest manifestation of love is marriage and dedicating your life to 1 other person and building a family with him/her. However, in 49 states in the nation, 7% of the adult population (15 million) is not able to legally marry. Yes, this nation that is currently fighting for equality and an end to religious oppression in other nations denies a significant portion of its citizens this fundamental right. Why? Does their love matter less than everyone else?
No. But this isn't about love. It's about fear. It's about discrimination. And it's about hate.
Because if everyone thought about the benefits of granting equal rights of marriage regardless of gender or sex, they wouldn't have an argument against it. But thinking about the benefits - I can find several arguments for it:
Continued discrimintation is un-constitutional: Beyond the arguments about church and state, is the fact the Supreme Court has already ruled that marriage is an fundamental right that all people in the United States are entitled to. In the case of Loving v Virginia, 1967, the court held that, "The freedom to marry has long been recognized as one of the vital personal rights essential to the orderly pursuit of happiness by free men." In the majority opinion, Chief Justice Warren writes that
Further, marriage discrimination is anti-competitive. States that want the edge on attracting the best and brightest workers should start recognizing all marriages soon. 211 of the Fortune 500 and 3/4 of the Fortune top 50 companies offer "spousal equivalent" or domestic partner benefits to their lesbian and gay employees. Because states currently have a patchwork of rights (or denial of rights) afforded to GLBT citizens - ranging from legalized same-sex marriages in Massachusetts to basic domestic-partner benefits in other states and an explicit denial of all rights in Virginia - companies with wide-spread offices face challenges in offering benefits and face the possibility that some of their best workers will avoid or refuse transfers and promotions to states that are hostile to their families.
I suppose first we should step back and solidify the argument that these benefits are good for business. In the most basic of terms, its a case of equal pay for equal work. Benefits can be up to 40% of total compensation. Because they are often based on marriage (although discrimination based on marital status is illegal), employees who are married technically make more than employees who do not. At the same time, because most states have not legalized gay marriage, benefits based on marriage are unattainable for gay workers. Further, Domestic partner benefits are a generally inexpensive enhancement to overall compensation packages that play a large part in recruitment and retention of employees. In fact, they are the #1 most effective recruiting incentive for executives and #3 for managers and line employeeds. Finally, one could use this arguement from the Human Rights campaign in regards to the increase in productivity for offering domestic partnership benefits.
Jumping back to the original argument of the anti-competitive nature of marriage discrimination, companies that make the smart business decision to offer such benefits should - and will - choose to not do business in a state that, based on descrimination, causes the financial and logistical nightmare described above.
Finally, love matters. In a time when 50% of marriages end in divorce, it doesn't make sense to punish anyone who wants to be in a loving relationship. The Human Rights Campaign has a beautiful homepage up today that shows the relationships that our GLBT friends, loved ones and neighbors are in - in spite of discrimination. How many of us can say that we have found the person with whom we want to spend the rest of our lives? And how many of us would accept that we cannot marry that person because a few people are uncomfortable or find a moral objection to our relationship? I think most of us would be pretty flipping mad.
It's time to support marriage equality. GLBT couples in 8 states are currently in legal battles to fight for their rights. Show the courts and the legislatures that love matters - not discrimination. Visit www.hrc.org or www.lambdalegal.org to learn how to make a difference.
Happy Valentine's Day!
If you read my blog and you live in CA, Vote NO on Prop 8
Today is Valentine's Day. A day when couples around the nation (world?) celebrate love and happiness and other gushy stuff that I couldn't care less about.
That said, I feel compelled to use today to post about Marriage Equality. This is the day of the year that is about love (ok, and chocolate) and the greatest manifestation of love is marriage and dedicating your life to 1 other person and building a family with him/her. However, in 49 states in the nation, 7% of the adult population (15 million) is not able to legally marry. Yes, this nation that is currently fighting for equality and an end to religious oppression in other nations denies a significant portion of its citizens this fundamental right. Why? Does their love matter less than everyone else?
No. But this isn't about love. It's about fear. It's about discrimination. And it's about hate.
Because if everyone thought about the benefits of granting equal rights of marriage regardless of gender or sex, they wouldn't have an argument against it. But thinking about the benefits - I can find several arguments for it:
Continued discrimintation is un-constitutional: Beyond the arguments about church and state, is the fact the Supreme Court has already ruled that marriage is an fundamental right that all people in the United States are entitled to. In the case of Loving v Virginia, 1967, the court held that, "The freedom to marry has long been recognized as one of the vital personal rights essential to the orderly pursuit of happiness by free men." In the majority opinion, Chief Justice Warren writes that
Marriage is one of the "basic civil rights of man," fundamental to our very existence and survival...To deny this fundamental freedom on so unsupportable a basis as the racial classifications embodied in these statutes, classifications so directly subversive of the principle of equality at the heart of the Fourteenth Amendment, is surely to deprive all the State's citizens of liberty without due process of law.Going out on a limb, I would not just apply the due process clause of the 14th ammendment, but I would also use the lesser regarded "privledges and immunities" clause. As a refresher, the 14th ammendment reads:
All persons born or naturalized in the United States and subject to the jurisdiction thereof, are citizens of the United States and of the State wherein they reside. No State shall make or enforce any law which shall abridge the privileges or immunities of citizens of the United States; nor shall any State deprive any person of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor deny to any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the lawsBy narrowly defining marriage as being between a man and a woman, you are depriving people of their lives and the priviledge afforded to all citizens to get married. Only in the circumstance of bigamy is marriage otherwise hampered. You can get married while on death row for murder - when stripped of most other rights, but you cannot marry if you will be marrying someone of your same sex.
Further, marriage discrimination is anti-competitive. States that want the edge on attracting the best and brightest workers should start recognizing all marriages soon. 211 of the Fortune 500 and 3/4 of the Fortune top 50 companies offer "spousal equivalent" or domestic partner benefits to their lesbian and gay employees. Because states currently have a patchwork of rights (or denial of rights) afforded to GLBT citizens - ranging from legalized same-sex marriages in Massachusetts to basic domestic-partner benefits in other states and an explicit denial of all rights in Virginia - companies with wide-spread offices face challenges in offering benefits and face the possibility that some of their best workers will avoid or refuse transfers and promotions to states that are hostile to their families.
I suppose first we should step back and solidify the argument that these benefits are good for business. In the most basic of terms, its a case of equal pay for equal work. Benefits can be up to 40% of total compensation. Because they are often based on marriage (although discrimination based on marital status is illegal), employees who are married technically make more than employees who do not. At the same time, because most states have not legalized gay marriage, benefits based on marriage are unattainable for gay workers. Further, Domestic partner benefits are a generally inexpensive enhancement to overall compensation packages that play a large part in recruitment and retention of employees. In fact, they are the #1 most effective recruiting incentive for executives and #3 for managers and line employeeds. Finally, one could use this arguement from the Human Rights campaign in regards to the increase in productivity for offering domestic partnership benefits.
A domestic partner benefits program will also improve employees' productivity by alleviating personal stress that may keep them from focusing fully on work. At least one workplace advocate has employed a simple formula to measure the dollar amount of increased productivity created by a fair and inclusive work environment for GLBT workers. The formula conservatively assumes the number of
GLBT employees in any workplace to be 5 percent and the amount of productivity associated with a safe and equitable workplace to be 10 percent. Using these figures, you can illustrate how much money a company might lose by not providing a safe and equitable workplace. (For example: A company with a workforce of 1,000 employees would have 50 GLBT employees [1,000 x 0.05=50]. If the average salary is $40,000, the average loss in productivity per GLBT worker per year is $4,000 [$40,000 x 0.10=$4,000]. Thus, the total annual loss to the company in productivity would be $200,000 [50 x$4,000=$200,000].)
Jumping back to the original argument of the anti-competitive nature of marriage discrimination, companies that make the smart business decision to offer such benefits should - and will - choose to not do business in a state that, based on descrimination, causes the financial and logistical nightmare described above.
Finally, love matters. In a time when 50% of marriages end in divorce, it doesn't make sense to punish anyone who wants to be in a loving relationship. The Human Rights Campaign has a beautiful homepage up today that shows the relationships that our GLBT friends, loved ones and neighbors are in - in spite of discrimination. How many of us can say that we have found the person with whom we want to spend the rest of our lives? And how many of us would accept that we cannot marry that person because a few people are uncomfortable or find a moral objection to our relationship? I think most of us would be pretty flipping mad.
It's time to support marriage equality. GLBT couples in 8 states are currently in legal battles to fight for their rights. Show the courts and the legislatures that love matters - not discrimination. Visit www.hrc.org or www.lambdalegal.org to learn how to make a difference.
Happy Valentine's Day!
Less than 6 degrees of separation
Reason #456679 to fly under the radar:
I'm sitting at book club and mention that one of my coworkers is very happy with a mutual friend's performance as a realtor. I mention that I'd recommended 2 different friends: Person A - the mutual girl friend and Person B - a guy friend who has occasionally been more than that. My book club friend looks at me and says how do you know "______ ______." I look at her and say, how do you know "____________ _____________"
Wow. Just goes to show, there's only 10 of us and they do the rest with mirrors
I'm sitting at book club and mention that one of my coworkers is very happy with a mutual friend's performance as a realtor. I mention that I'd recommended 2 different friends: Person A - the mutual girl friend and Person B - a guy friend who has occasionally been more than that. My book club friend looks at me and says how do you know "______ ______." I look at her and say, how do you know "____________ _____________"
Wow. Just goes to show, there's only 10 of us and they do the rest with mirrors
Monday, October 6, 2008
I'm ba-ack
So, so, so, so much to say. But there’s so little I actually should say in such a public forum. So I’m going to toe the line. I know some people (hi, Patty) are dying for a full update. And others may be mildly curious.
[though who am I fooling – most people come to my blog after searching about natural hair or afros…And I’m happy to say I LOVE my fro and just got a great cut, but this blog is not about natural hair…sorry]
Well – I have my life back. I produced my first big event for work and it went wonderfully. I hit my goal, went over budget (some items were poorly budgeted and others improperly budgeted), and feel great about it. I’m exhausted though. I have thoroughly crashed, but I’m not taking any days off till my grandfather comes to visit in a few weeks.
In other news…yes, K is still around.
Which is a surprisingly apathetic response, but short of standing on top of a mountain and screaming about how I have found the nicest, realest, kindest, funnest, happiest, everything-est man on the face of the earth, I can’t really do how I feel justice. I feel so comfortable and so happy with him.
And only a little bit scared.
And everyday, I get a little better about quieting the scared part. I get a little more open to making plans more than a month out. I feel a little more ready for this. A little more. Not a lot more. I’m still…well…terrified. I’m trying to let go and let God and just be present. But this is dragging me, all but kicking and screaming, away from everything I ever knew and challenging pretty much every idea I had about life and love and relationships. I really need to just take some sit down time and meditate/pray on this. It’s pretty undeniable what I feel, but it’s so freaking scary….and by scary (which is a cop-out inadequate word for it), I mean it’s refreshing and liberating and new. And it’s so new that I don’t know how to handle it. Which is scary.
Beyond that – I’m excited for the election. I’m refusing to think about what could happen if Obama doesn’t win. He will win. I’ve got some other posts I need to make in regards to some of the issues on the CA ballot – those will be posted soon.
That’s it for now. I promise, I’m back from the wilderness and I’ll be posting more often.
Friday, August 22, 2008
All I can say is...
It's been a month.
So, K is a little weirded out by the fact that I have a blog and could potentially be leaking all kinds of information about our personal life out to the world. And since he doesn't want the link he doesn't know that I really don't share that much. So out of respect for him, this will be the last post that talks about him and/or us for a while - so until something major happens or I feel hugely compelled to write.
But I have to share that it's been a month. A whole month. An ENTIRE MONTH of dating K. And it's pretty great. I like being around him. He's sweet and kind and funny and smart and tells me that I'm great. We're still facing the "challenge" of race. I'm still a wee bit paranoid that people are staring. We've stopped discussing the challenge of having to tell his parents eventually, but it's there. And definitely gives me pause before I get "in too deep." He's close to his family and depending on ho hard of a time they gave him about it, I don't want my heart trampled if they don't like me or me being black.
Other than that, I'm just glad to finally be gaining some insight into being in a relationship and figuring myself out. As much as there's a part of me who doesn't want to get too far into it and really resents the fact that I could be dating him for a while and nothing could come of it, I'm starting to see the value in "recreational dating." Yes, I like having someone who tells me I'm great and gives me the most amazing adoring looks. But, I also am learning about me and what I want and how to pick my battles in a way I never did in other relationships. We've had small (miniscule) disagreements over tiny (teensy) things, and I'm figuring out what matters and how to say it and how to just be. And how to read into what he's not saying vs what he is.
But that's it - for now.
So, K is a little weirded out by the fact that I have a blog and could potentially be leaking all kinds of information about our personal life out to the world. And since he doesn't want the link he doesn't know that I really don't share that much. So out of respect for him, this will be the last post that talks about him and/or us for a while - so until something major happens or I feel hugely compelled to write.
But I have to share that it's been a month. A whole month. An ENTIRE MONTH of dating K. And it's pretty great. I like being around him. He's sweet and kind and funny and smart and tells me that I'm great. We're still facing the "challenge" of race. I'm still a wee bit paranoid that people are staring. We've stopped discussing the challenge of having to tell his parents eventually, but it's there. And definitely gives me pause before I get "in too deep." He's close to his family and depending on ho hard of a time they gave him about it, I don't want my heart trampled if they don't like me or me being black.
Other than that, I'm just glad to finally be gaining some insight into being in a relationship and figuring myself out. As much as there's a part of me who doesn't want to get too far into it and really resents the fact that I could be dating him for a while and nothing could come of it, I'm starting to see the value in "recreational dating." Yes, I like having someone who tells me I'm great and gives me the most amazing adoring looks. But, I also am learning about me and what I want and how to pick my battles in a way I never did in other relationships. We've had small (miniscule) disagreements over tiny (teensy) things, and I'm figuring out what matters and how to say it and how to just be. And how to read into what he's not saying vs what he is.
But that's it - for now.
Seriously?
So I saw the Old Man on Tuesday. The 40-year old guy I was sleeping with earlier this year who ditched me then defriended me...I saw him Tuesday at a yelp event. I looked pretty good - my hair wasn' great by the time he said hi, but it looked good when we waved at each other from across the room early in the evening.
So he sends me a PM saying "it was great to see you at Butterfly". After giving it 24 hours...cause I'm to busy to reply immediately, I was going to reply. Except I'm blocked from sending him messages. Why is he so weird? More importantly why do I care?
So he sends me a PM saying "it was great to see you at Butterfly". After giving it 24 hours...cause I'm to busy to reply immediately, I was going to reply. Except I'm blocked from sending him messages. Why is he so weird? More importantly why do I care?
Friday, August 8, 2008
Rubbing off on me
Suddenly - all the things I thought I didn't want:
Husband
Kids
A House
Stability
Happily Ever After
I want. DESPERATELY. All that sappy romantic dribble.
Yes. My biological clock has clicked on.
Too bad I need to hit the snooze button.
But I think it's being around all these happy, stable couples and seeing that that's actually possible. Sheesh - Californians have been a terrible influence on me
Husband
Kids
A House
Stability
Happily Ever After
I want. DESPERATELY. All that sappy romantic dribble.
Yes. My biological clock has clicked on.
Too bad I need to hit the snooze button.
But I think it's being around all these happy, stable couples and seeing that that's actually possible. Sheesh - Californians have been a terrible influence on me
Society's continued assault on black women
Maybe it's an assault on women in general.
But I'm focusing on me.
A black woman. A black woman who definitely has to put on some armor before facing whatever it is that the world has in store for me on a given day.
And is tired of it. And frightened by what it's doing to our younger girls.
The granddaughter of a family friend came to visit last weekend. Her grandmother wanted to introduce her to my world and show the benefits of not giving into what seems to be expected of our young black girls: sexual promiscuity, low self esteem, being unhealthy, not being smart, not being successful, not being whatever it is that she wants to be.
I was, of course, flattered, nervous, and intimidated by her visit. I've heard good reports from her mother and grandmother about some positive changes. YAY! But I have to say I learned so much from her too. Mostly that I'm SO glad I went to high school 7-10 years ago. The things she was telling me - the peer pressure around sex and dating and academic success (or lack there of) saddened me. I'm terrified that there's a whole generation of black girls growing up who think that the entirety of their value lies between their legs and that being smart and confident is unnecessary. There's also a generation of black boys who think that their value lies in acquiring notches on their bed post and who have been told that they don't need to respect women. She has more "Ay, Shawty" stories than I do and she's 10 years younger than I. On one hand, I'm sure she'll be street wise enough to ignore guys she doesn't meet indoors, but what type of world is it where you have to be wary of everyone who approaches you. And the kicker. The piece de resistance is that she has classmates who made a "hit it before summer" list. Yes...a list of the girls they wanted to do before summer. And they're FRESHMEN. In HIGH SCHOOL.
Maybe (just maybe) I grew up in a box. Actually, not only was I a virign when I got to college, but I'd also never been kissed. Yeah, ok, maybe part of that was because no one was paying me any attention, but it was also SO far from my mind. I was so focused on getting the heck out of Indiana and succeeding, that I wasn't thinking about boys and sex, I knew that that would get in the way of my actual goals. So the idea that 9th graders are that scheming and deliberate about something that is so "outside their maturity level"[1] frightens me.
And it makes me wonder why. So I asked her. I had always been a defender of "the media" and of multinational corporations. No more. Apparently that is a driving force. Apparently all of the hyper-sexualized images that are bombarding our kids are seeping in. I know...wonder of all wonders, right? But really. She says it does.
Whoa.
Nevertheless - that was all backstory for the rant of the day. I'm checking my favorite blogs, and I see this:
But I'm focusing on me.
A black woman. A black woman who definitely has to put on some armor before facing whatever it is that the world has in store for me on a given day.
And is tired of it. And frightened by what it's doing to our younger girls.
The granddaughter of a family friend came to visit last weekend. Her grandmother wanted to introduce her to my world and show the benefits of not giving into what seems to be expected of our young black girls: sexual promiscuity, low self esteem, being unhealthy, not being smart, not being successful, not being whatever it is that she wants to be.
I was, of course, flattered, nervous, and intimidated by her visit. I've heard good reports from her mother and grandmother about some positive changes. YAY! But I have to say I learned so much from her too. Mostly that I'm SO glad I went to high school 7-10 years ago. The things she was telling me - the peer pressure around sex and dating and academic success (or lack there of) saddened me. I'm terrified that there's a whole generation of black girls growing up who think that the entirety of their value lies between their legs and that being smart and confident is unnecessary. There's also a generation of black boys who think that their value lies in acquiring notches on their bed post and who have been told that they don't need to respect women. She has more "Ay, Shawty" stories than I do and she's 10 years younger than I. On one hand, I'm sure she'll be street wise enough to ignore guys she doesn't meet indoors, but what type of world is it where you have to be wary of everyone who approaches you. And the kicker. The piece de resistance is that she has classmates who made a "hit it before summer" list. Yes...a list of the girls they wanted to do before summer. And they're FRESHMEN. In HIGH SCHOOL.
Maybe (just maybe) I grew up in a box. Actually, not only was I a virign when I got to college, but I'd also never been kissed. Yeah, ok, maybe part of that was because no one was paying me any attention, but it was also SO far from my mind. I was so focused on getting the heck out of Indiana and succeeding, that I wasn't thinking about boys and sex, I knew that that would get in the way of my actual goals. So the idea that 9th graders are that scheming and deliberate about something that is so "outside their maturity level"[1] frightens me.
And it makes me wonder why. So I asked her. I had always been a defender of "the media" and of multinational corporations. No more. Apparently that is a driving force. Apparently all of the hyper-sexualized images that are bombarding our kids are seeping in. I know...wonder of all wonders, right? But really. She says it does.
Whoa.
Nevertheless - that was all backstory for the rant of the day. I'm checking my favorite blogs, and I see this:
Yes. It's my favorite celebrity, Beyoncé, showing off the great photoshop job that L'Oreal did. L'Oreal swears that's her real skin tone. Sure. I've never liked Beyonce for a NUMBER of reasons - mostly because I'm thoroughly convinced that she's cheap and talentless. But in all fairness, if she was white I'd have no problem with it (see example 1: Jessica Simpson or 2: Britney Spears). They're good at what they're good at but they're not exactly beacons of anything great. But this is taking it a little far. Really? Do you really have to take a light-skinned black girl and make her lighter? On top of the blond? Really? REALLY? But apparently she's just been lightening a little bit on her own.
This is only weeks after Young Berg's Brown Bottom-gate issues. If you didn't hear about it, consider yourself lucky. But basically one of the latest mediocre rappers said that he doesnt like dark skinned girls (brown bottoms) and likes to issue a swimming pool test (aka likes girls with "wash n wear" hair - meaning no naps). And this bozo is still getting air time and probably still getting laid by some poor little girl with light skin but no self respect.
And where does it stop? At what point do we say, enough is enough? At what point does it stop being cool to simultaneously erode the sexuality of black women by rarely showing us as standards of beauty while placing all emphasis on not our beauty, but our supposed sexual prowess? It makes me dizzy. What kind of women are these girls going to grow up to be? Not the kind of women I want to be sharing the workforce (or the world) with.
So this is war. I'm investigating lyrics and taking all rumors of mysogyny as fact. I never used L'Oreal (or any of it's syster brands, including Lancome) and I'm not going to start now. I'm not listening to the music, watching the movies, or buying the products anymore. Let's just call it a new wave of black feminism that demands that society, "the media", multinational corporations and EVERY ONE ELSE, stop using our music, our faces, our men, and each other to tear us down.
So who's with me?Sunday, August 3, 2008
On Faith and Forgiveness
I alluded to this post a while ago, but I’m finally writing it now. My pastor has been really hitting faith hard as a topic lately. It’s been great for me because I needed it. Correction: I need it.
So, Hebrews 11:1 (NIV) says: “Now faith is being sure of what we hope for, and certain of what we do not see.” My pastor has really focused on this verse – several times. Looking at the first half, he emphasized that you may feel like you’re having a crisis of faith, but you’re really having a crisis of hope…that at some point, you’ve lost it or stopped hoping.
Yeah
Whoa, right? That’s part of the reason I love this church, I feel like some of the sermons are written just for me. I realized when he said that that I’d stopped even hoping for anything. I ‘d stopped using the gift of my faith, because my hope was gone.
The second half means knowing that what I don’t see is already there. Superficially – a healthier, fitter body is already inside me. So is financial security. And happiness and lots of things. Another verse says that Faith is the title deed (or ownership) of what I will soon have.
Another verse that pastor has used in this series is Mark 11:23-26. “Truly I tell you, if you say to this mountain, ‘go, throw yourself into the sea,’ and do not doubt in your heart but believe that what you say will happen, it will be done for you. Therefore I tell you, whatever you ask for in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours. And when you stand praying, if you hold anything against another, forgive them, so that your Father in heaven can forgive you your sins”
The first 3 times he covered these verses, he didn’t include 26 – the bit about forgiveness, but when he did something just clicked that so many of my prayers were being stunted by my inability to forgive…that I was holding so much against my father, step father the enigma, the old man, other guys, other people…that I had now space in my mind for the hope and belief that what I was asking for would come. Not only that, but it allowed me easy excuses for failing and was taking glory away from God. I should be praising him for getting me through college – instead, I’m sitting here thinking it was me doing it “in spite of” my father’s lack of support. And there were many other areas where this was the case.
So, a few weeks ago, I prayed for Got to help me forgive and to forgive me. And I swear – it’s all be lifted. I think about some of it. I’m still hurt by my stepfather and my father’s general uselessness, but God is my true father – so what does that matter? I still resent the Enigma and Old man for using me – but I allowed it. And forgive them.
And now – so much that I’ve been acting in faith for is happening. I had asked for faith to get healthier, And the faith to sustain hope in positive relationships. And while I’m still getting used to acting in faith and in expectation – so eating healthier and working out...I’m getting there. It’s not an issue anymore. I want to workout. I want to be around people who add things to my life, and I want to add to others’ lives.
Being in a state of forgiveness and faith has just opened up my heart and mind and spirit for so much more. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that I’m now open to being in a relationship with K. Heck – I’ve even had the chance to be more of a sister to my half-brother…and I hope to eventually build a stronger relationship with him. And I expect it to happen.
My pastor preached on getting ready for New Experiences today – and the more I hear and learn and read, the more I’m excited and expecting these new experiences and how great they’ll be.
So, Hebrews 11:1 (NIV) says: “Now faith is being sure of what we hope for, and certain of what we do not see.” My pastor has really focused on this verse – several times. Looking at the first half, he emphasized that you may feel like you’re having a crisis of faith, but you’re really having a crisis of hope…that at some point, you’ve lost it or stopped hoping.
Yeah
Whoa, right? That’s part of the reason I love this church, I feel like some of the sermons are written just for me. I realized when he said that that I’d stopped even hoping for anything. I ‘d stopped using the gift of my faith, because my hope was gone.
The second half means knowing that what I don’t see is already there. Superficially – a healthier, fitter body is already inside me. So is financial security. And happiness and lots of things. Another verse says that Faith is the title deed (or ownership) of what I will soon have.
Another verse that pastor has used in this series is Mark 11:23-26. “Truly I tell you, if you say to this mountain, ‘go, throw yourself into the sea,’ and do not doubt in your heart but believe that what you say will happen, it will be done for you. Therefore I tell you, whatever you ask for in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours. And when you stand praying, if you hold anything against another, forgive them, so that your Father in heaven can forgive you your sins”
The first 3 times he covered these verses, he didn’t include 26 – the bit about forgiveness, but when he did something just clicked that so many of my prayers were being stunted by my inability to forgive…that I was holding so much against my father, step father the enigma, the old man, other guys, other people…that I had now space in my mind for the hope and belief that what I was asking for would come. Not only that, but it allowed me easy excuses for failing and was taking glory away from God. I should be praising him for getting me through college – instead, I’m sitting here thinking it was me doing it “in spite of” my father’s lack of support. And there were many other areas where this was the case.
So, a few weeks ago, I prayed for Got to help me forgive and to forgive me. And I swear – it’s all be lifted. I think about some of it. I’m still hurt by my stepfather and my father’s general uselessness, but God is my true father – so what does that matter? I still resent the Enigma and Old man for using me – but I allowed it. And forgive them.
And now – so much that I’ve been acting in faith for is happening. I had asked for faith to get healthier, And the faith to sustain hope in positive relationships. And while I’m still getting used to acting in faith and in expectation – so eating healthier and working out...I’m getting there. It’s not an issue anymore. I want to workout. I want to be around people who add things to my life, and I want to add to others’ lives.
Being in a state of forgiveness and faith has just opened up my heart and mind and spirit for so much more. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that I’m now open to being in a relationship with K. Heck – I’ve even had the chance to be more of a sister to my half-brother…and I hope to eventually build a stronger relationship with him. And I expect it to happen.
My pastor preached on getting ready for New Experiences today – and the more I hear and learn and read, the more I’m excited and expecting these new experiences and how great they’ll be.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Pinch me...or wow, are things actually clicking?
Dear readers...I'm happy to report that your terminally single blogger is no longer terminally single.
Or something like that.
So Monday night...yes, the very day that I'd written that I didn't know what was going on with K...he comes over and we talk and things are generally smoothed out. I can say that both of us are suprised by this. It's only been a few weeks, so no, no wedding bells, but there's definitely a connection. Enough of one that I cut C (the other guy I went out with a couple weeks ago). We've made plans a couple weeks out. We've talked about the race thing. And having to tell his mother - eventually - that he's not dating a Chinese girl. Basically, we've talked it out and established that we are dating. That we both enjoy each other's company.
And now we're working the rest out.
I'm learning that the large amounts of hair product needed to pull my hair back (and control it) will leave stains if I lean on his shoulder. That his kisses are a little slobbery (but not terribly so). That he owns exactly 5 pairs of shoes - and I think more than 5 pieces of Oakland Atheletics items. He sings tenor, enjoys his job, but is really passionate about music. I've replaced his XBox and watching TV with his roommates. He likes routines and schedules and consistency. He's learned that I occasionally put on way too much hair product (in my defense - I've only had long natural hair for a month or so...I'm still learning). That I love shopping sales. That I bought 4 pairs of JCrew flip flops over the last 2 weeks. That my friends and I have our own message board. That I'm not sure about having kids. That I don't consider going hiking out doors. That I don't make decisions about where to go for dinner. That my apartment, car, and office will always be just a little (or a lot) bit messy. That I fear and don't trust routines and stability. That I'm willing to move across country at the drop of a hat.
I'd be lying if I didn't say that it's a bit bizarre to be plopped down into a relationship (is that what this is?) so quickly. Bizarre and terrifying. And I, of course, am waiting to be pinched...he can't be this great, right?
Or something like that.
So Monday night...yes, the very day that I'd written that I didn't know what was going on with K...he comes over and we talk and things are generally smoothed out. I can say that both of us are suprised by this. It's only been a few weeks, so no, no wedding bells, but there's definitely a connection. Enough of one that I cut C (the other guy I went out with a couple weeks ago). We've made plans a couple weeks out. We've talked about the race thing. And having to tell his mother - eventually - that he's not dating a Chinese girl. Basically, we've talked it out and established that we are dating. That we both enjoy each other's company.
And now we're working the rest out.
I'm learning that the large amounts of hair product needed to pull my hair back (and control it) will leave stains if I lean on his shoulder. That his kisses are a little slobbery (but not terribly so). That he owns exactly 5 pairs of shoes - and I think more than 5 pieces of Oakland Atheletics items. He sings tenor, enjoys his job, but is really passionate about music. I've replaced his XBox and watching TV with his roommates. He likes routines and schedules and consistency. He's learned that I occasionally put on way too much hair product (in my defense - I've only had long natural hair for a month or so...I'm still learning). That I love shopping sales. That I bought 4 pairs of JCrew flip flops over the last 2 weeks. That my friends and I have our own message board. That I'm not sure about having kids. That I don't consider going hiking out doors. That I don't make decisions about where to go for dinner. That my apartment, car, and office will always be just a little (or a lot) bit messy. That I fear and don't trust routines and stability. That I'm willing to move across country at the drop of a hat.
I'd be lying if I didn't say that it's a bit bizarre to be plopped down into a relationship (is that what this is?) so quickly. Bizarre and terrifying. And I, of course, am waiting to be pinched...he can't be this great, right?
Monday, July 28, 2008
Here we go again...kinda...not really
Bear with me - I know I'm probably not going to make too much sense, but I'm trying to corral my thoughts, and what better place to do that then in front of the 70-100 people who read my blog (thanks, BTW).
And so...let me just say for my own knowledge:
K (more adequate nickname to come) is not the Enigma.
K is not the Enigma.
K is not the Enigma.
...
Yeah, I keep having to remind myself of this. K is not the Enigma. K is nice. Genuinely nice. Attentive. Understanding. Cool. I want to be a better person around him. I have fun with him. He remembers things. He helps me to laugh about my completely useless - but not intentionally malicious, just lost and living in post-adolescense father. Really. Me. Laugh. Cause it's sad but it's still funny cause he's not bad, just pathetic. And K is considerate. Patient. I can lose an entire hour talking with him. And I lose this hour nearly every day. And I love it. Me. On the phone.
Yet, I feel the horrible naggy part of me saying: You thought this last time. And after the last time you said you'd be more careful and ...
Well, shut up horrible naggy part of me. This isn't the last time. This is this time.
But how do you keep all of the this times from being the last time? And if the only way to keep the this time from being the last time is to be crazy and obsessive and paranoid (yeah, I know I'm that anyway), then this time won't be too great anyway.
And so, it's making me crazy(er) because as much as I want to be open and fearless and chill and just enjoy K, I don't want to get hurt. I also don't want to spend a year mooning after an emotionally unavailable guy. And I don't want to miss out on someone great.
And so here I am. Absolutely batshit crazy(-er than usual). And without any clue what to do. The girls and the older brother recommend a state of the state conversation. You know, a what's up/are you thinking what I'm thinking coversation. My fear is that I lack the ability to articulate the fact that I pretty much like him without sounding...uhmmm...batshit crazy or obsessive or both. And I'm sure, with time, he'll learn that I am those things, but I want to give it time. Of course, I could passive agressively send him a link to this lovely blog (HA) and watch him run for the hills.
Or, I guess I could learn to live with the uncertainty. Yes, I like patterns and consistency and knowing that if I do X then Y happens. And yes, it drives me crazy that this time is this time. It may bear some resemblances to last time. But it's not last time. And it won't be next time either.
And so, all I can do is say K is not the Enigma...or the Old Man, or the loser, or the loser before that, or...and let myself see who he is. So far, I like that.
And so...let me just say for my own knowledge:
K (more adequate nickname to come) is not the Enigma.
K is not the Enigma.
K is not the Enigma.
...
Yeah, I keep having to remind myself of this. K is not the Enigma. K is nice. Genuinely nice. Attentive. Understanding. Cool. I want to be a better person around him. I have fun with him. He remembers things. He helps me to laugh about my completely useless - but not intentionally malicious, just lost and living in post-adolescense father. Really. Me. Laugh. Cause it's sad but it's still funny cause he's not bad, just pathetic. And K is considerate. Patient. I can lose an entire hour talking with him. And I lose this hour nearly every day. And I love it. Me. On the phone.
Yet, I feel the horrible naggy part of me saying: You thought this last time. And after the last time you said you'd be more careful and ...
Well, shut up horrible naggy part of me. This isn't the last time. This is this time.
But how do you keep all of the this times from being the last time? And if the only way to keep the this time from being the last time is to be crazy and obsessive and paranoid (yeah, I know I'm that anyway), then this time won't be too great anyway.
And so, it's making me crazy(er) because as much as I want to be open and fearless and chill and just enjoy K, I don't want to get hurt. I also don't want to spend a year mooning after an emotionally unavailable guy. And I don't want to miss out on someone great.
And so here I am. Absolutely batshit crazy(-er than usual). And without any clue what to do. The girls and the older brother recommend a state of the state conversation. You know, a what's up/are you thinking what I'm thinking coversation. My fear is that I lack the ability to articulate the fact that I pretty much like him without sounding...uhmmm...batshit crazy or obsessive or both. And I'm sure, with time, he'll learn that I am those things, but I want to give it time. Of course, I could passive agressively send him a link to this lovely blog (HA) and watch him run for the hills.
Or, I guess I could learn to live with the uncertainty. Yes, I like patterns and consistency and knowing that if I do X then Y happens. And yes, it drives me crazy that this time is this time. It may bear some resemblances to last time. But it's not last time. And it won't be next time either.
And so, all I can do is say K is not the Enigma...or the Old Man, or the loser, or the loser before that, or...and let myself see who he is. So far, I like that.
Friday, July 25, 2008
It's Still America
What perfect timing for this post that CNN is airing it's Black in America Extravaganza. I don't have a TV, so I'm not watching it, but I've heard mixed opinions. I'd like to see a tape sometime - maybe I should look for the clips online.
But of course, I am black and living in America. I don't need Soledad O'Brien or any of the official mouthpieces of the black experience to tell me what it means. I know what it means. I live it everyday.
This is particularly interesting this week as I've faced 2 reminders that not all of the US is like the quasi-racial-utopia that is Oakland and the parts of DC where I lived. That not all of the US or even the Bay Area realize that there can be rich black people. I grew up knowing this, but have become softened by a world where there are people of color in different socioeconomic positions is normal, where people don't look at me and assume that I'm poor or stealing, where my BAP-y-ness is accepted and respected.
So, last Saturday, I ventured to Walnut Creek to do a little shopping. I needed some hair product, so I ducked into Sephora hoping that this location (even with the low # of minorities) would carry Carol's Daughter. I was casual, but cute, brown cotton/silk sweater dress, jeweled flat sandals, big sunglasses, Fendi Spy bag on my shoulder, afro big and curly and held back with a headband - you know, Saturday afternoon chic. But I walk into Sephora and NO ONE can be bothered to help. It's a narrow store, but I didn't see the usual Carol's Daughter island. Remembering that the Bay Street location, also has CD in the back with hair products, I walk back - nothing. I do 2 or 3 laps around the store with my "lost" look on. Nothing. A few glances, but no help. Finally I approach a black-clad sales associate who tells me they don't carry Carol's Daughter but they do have a few items in the back, what did I need. Balm, Rosemary Shampoo, Hair Milk. She radios for one of the sales associates, who tells another sales associate something, then my girl walks away. In the meantime, I stroll back to the PhytoSpecific line thinking that if they even make an effort to sell it to me, I'll try it cause another customer had raved about it a few weeks ago. But no. The associate comes from the back with her arms full of a mish mosh of CD products - and only 1 thing is useful - hair milk. Sigh. I find out the the first associate is a manager. Still no one has tried to actually sell me anything. I say never mind, get a few more samples of Phyto and leave. Yesterday, at Bay Street, I learn that they could have shipped me my products for free.
Today, however, was worse. I had to go to the peninsula to drop off a mailing at the mail house. Being that close to JCrew, I decided to pop over to Stanford to get a few more pairs of flip flops (a recent obsession). I also wanted to drop into Banana Republic to pick up other styles of these shoes mom had sent me. I walk in the store, and being on a tight schedule, go straight to the shoes, pick one up and then look around - no one. I circle the store - still, no one. One more time (also trying to find the sale racks) no one. I check out the sale racks, see nothing, walk back up front and finally ask a desk clerk. Meanwhile, 5-6 associates have looked at me, and walked away or continued their conversations. One flat out made eye contact and then shifted it and turned. That same one, as I was talking to the desk associate with about 20 inches between us, WALKED BETWEEN US, forcing me to jump back to avoid being stepped on. Whoa. Uh. I'm not a small woman. I was wearing giant heeled wedges (from their store), making me darn near 6ft tall, bright green, big afro, and was dressed for work (so I definitely wasn't look schlubby) - you saw me. You made a concerted effort to walk over me. You're some sales associate at Banana Republic waiting on college kids from Stanford and various upper middle class women. You're making what? $10, $11 a hour. Not to be a bitch - but that's what I was making doing your job in college - come on chick. I'm shopping at your store, you work there. Yeah, she may have a rich husband at home, but let's assume she doesn't. And you just think you can walk on me???
But I guess this is still America. A black man is running for president, but a black woman still can't possibly earn you much commission. A former coworker asked me why I was still so cynical about the US in spite of Obama's candidacy, popularity, and success. This is why. Because him being president won't change the hearts and minds of the average white American. An Obama presidency promises many wonderful, great, shiny, bright, hopeful things, but it probably won't put a huge dent in the issues covered by Soledad O'Brien this week. It won't undo the centuries of ingrained hate and distrust amongst the races. It won't put more black women in magazines as models. Convince make up manufacturers other than MAC and Bobbi Brown to make foundation in more shades than "dark." It won't make pants that fit a bubble butt and solid thighs appear on the shelves. And it won't make bitches in stores provide me with the level of service that they would some PWT who has no money, but is white, so she must be right. I am hopeful for an Obama presidency and I know he'll do great things...
But at the end of the day, it'll still be America.
But of course, I am black and living in America. I don't need Soledad O'Brien or any of the official mouthpieces of the black experience to tell me what it means. I know what it means. I live it everyday.
This is particularly interesting this week as I've faced 2 reminders that not all of the US is like the quasi-racial-utopia that is Oakland and the parts of DC where I lived. That not all of the US or even the Bay Area realize that there can be rich black people. I grew up knowing this, but have become softened by a world where there are people of color in different socioeconomic positions is normal, where people don't look at me and assume that I'm poor or stealing, where my BAP-y-ness is accepted and respected.
So, last Saturday, I ventured to Walnut Creek to do a little shopping. I needed some hair product, so I ducked into Sephora hoping that this location (even with the low # of minorities) would carry Carol's Daughter. I was casual, but cute, brown cotton/silk sweater dress, jeweled flat sandals, big sunglasses, Fendi Spy bag on my shoulder, afro big and curly and held back with a headband - you know, Saturday afternoon chic. But I walk into Sephora and NO ONE can be bothered to help. It's a narrow store, but I didn't see the usual Carol's Daughter island. Remembering that the Bay Street location, also has CD in the back with hair products, I walk back - nothing. I do 2 or 3 laps around the store with my "lost" look on. Nothing. A few glances, but no help. Finally I approach a black-clad sales associate who tells me they don't carry Carol's Daughter but they do have a few items in the back, what did I need. Balm, Rosemary Shampoo, Hair Milk. She radios for one of the sales associates, who tells another sales associate something, then my girl walks away. In the meantime, I stroll back to the PhytoSpecific line thinking that if they even make an effort to sell it to me, I'll try it cause another customer had raved about it a few weeks ago. But no. The associate comes from the back with her arms full of a mish mosh of CD products - and only 1 thing is useful - hair milk. Sigh. I find out the the first associate is a manager. Still no one has tried to actually sell me anything. I say never mind, get a few more samples of Phyto and leave. Yesterday, at Bay Street, I learn that they could have shipped me my products for free.
Today, however, was worse. I had to go to the peninsula to drop off a mailing at the mail house. Being that close to JCrew, I decided to pop over to Stanford to get a few more pairs of flip flops (a recent obsession). I also wanted to drop into Banana Republic to pick up other styles of these shoes mom had sent me. I walk in the store, and being on a tight schedule, go straight to the shoes, pick one up and then look around - no one. I circle the store - still, no one. One more time (also trying to find the sale racks) no one. I check out the sale racks, see nothing, walk back up front and finally ask a desk clerk. Meanwhile, 5-6 associates have looked at me, and walked away or continued their conversations. One flat out made eye contact and then shifted it and turned. That same one, as I was talking to the desk associate with about 20 inches between us, WALKED BETWEEN US, forcing me to jump back to avoid being stepped on. Whoa. Uh. I'm not a small woman. I was wearing giant heeled wedges (from their store), making me darn near 6ft tall, bright green, big afro, and was dressed for work (so I definitely wasn't look schlubby) - you saw me. You made a concerted effort to walk over me. You're some sales associate at Banana Republic waiting on college kids from Stanford and various upper middle class women. You're making what? $10, $11 a hour. Not to be a bitch - but that's what I was making doing your job in college - come on chick. I'm shopping at your store, you work there. Yeah, she may have a rich husband at home, but let's assume she doesn't. And you just think you can walk on me???
But I guess this is still America. A black man is running for president, but a black woman still can't possibly earn you much commission. A former coworker asked me why I was still so cynical about the US in spite of Obama's candidacy, popularity, and success. This is why. Because him being president won't change the hearts and minds of the average white American. An Obama presidency promises many wonderful, great, shiny, bright, hopeful things, but it probably won't put a huge dent in the issues covered by Soledad O'Brien this week. It won't undo the centuries of ingrained hate and distrust amongst the races. It won't put more black women in magazines as models. Convince make up manufacturers other than MAC and Bobbi Brown to make foundation in more shades than "dark." It won't make pants that fit a bubble butt and solid thighs appear on the shelves. And it won't make bitches in stores provide me with the level of service that they would some PWT who has no money, but is white, so she must be right. I am hopeful for an Obama presidency and I know he'll do great things...
But at the end of the day, it'll still be America.
Monday, July 21, 2008
When it rains, it...yeah
So after years of meeting jerks or no one, I meet not one, but 2 nice guys in a week. TWO!
So, yeah, Friday, I went to the symphony with K (real nicknames to be created eventually). Then we went to dinner then drinks then watched a movie at his place. Yeah - that's a lot in an evening. But he's fun. He's chill. He's as culturally conflicted as I, but um...isn't black. I'm HUGELY paranoid that people are looking at us. I mean, if they are, that's their problem, but it's such a huge challenge for me right now. I've only dated one other non-black guy, and like K, he was from a pretty traditional family for his culture....they weren't so much cool with the black chick. This is totally jumping the gun - but it's something that is kinda poking me in the back of the head before I go too far, Anyway, I also saw him Saturday at a BBQ for his roommate's birthday. What I can say is that I truly enjoy being around him. There's not many people that I could spend hours and hours with and not get annoyed by something. It's very comfortable - when I'm not dealing with the superficial.
Then Sunday, I went out with C - a guy I met on match. He emailed me last week, and we've exchanged a few really long emails, but had some really horrible phone calls - neither of us are very good phone people, so there was a lot of silence both times. He and I went for a walk and a picnic at Lake Chabot. It was really a great first date. Like perfect. And he's really sweet. He brought 4 or 5 different sandwiches so I could pick. There was less silence in real life, but still not as easy as talking with K.
But, the thing is, I had a really great weekend. And I've now met 2 really nice guys. And one looks like he could be related to Antonio Bandaras. Seriously.
And I'm trying to not let it freak me out. In a yet to be written blog article, I'll post about a recent epiphany about faith and forgiveness. But I recently prayed to be able to forgive the Enigma - and I really didn't think about him till today. And I'm really trying to just stay open to the possibilities. That's why I'm not letting the stupid, superficial thoughts about race or a few awkward conversations (I was def nervous...wonder about him) stand in the way of something great. Nor am I letting the fact that the Enigma was a jerk force me to be unnecessarily protective of my feelings. So I'm just enjoying for now.
Singing in the rain...so to speak
So, yeah, Friday, I went to the symphony with K (real nicknames to be created eventually). Then we went to dinner then drinks then watched a movie at his place. Yeah - that's a lot in an evening. But he's fun. He's chill. He's as culturally conflicted as I, but um...isn't black. I'm HUGELY paranoid that people are looking at us. I mean, if they are, that's their problem, but it's such a huge challenge for me right now. I've only dated one other non-black guy, and like K, he was from a pretty traditional family for his culture....they weren't so much cool with the black chick. This is totally jumping the gun - but it's something that is kinda poking me in the back of the head before I go too far, Anyway, I also saw him Saturday at a BBQ for his roommate's birthday. What I can say is that I truly enjoy being around him. There's not many people that I could spend hours and hours with and not get annoyed by something. It's very comfortable - when I'm not dealing with the superficial.
Then Sunday, I went out with C - a guy I met on match. He emailed me last week, and we've exchanged a few really long emails, but had some really horrible phone calls - neither of us are very good phone people, so there was a lot of silence both times. He and I went for a walk and a picnic at Lake Chabot. It was really a great first date. Like perfect. And he's really sweet. He brought 4 or 5 different sandwiches so I could pick. There was less silence in real life, but still not as easy as talking with K.
But, the thing is, I had a really great weekend. And I've now met 2 really nice guys. And one looks like he could be related to Antonio Bandaras. Seriously.
And I'm trying to not let it freak me out. In a yet to be written blog article, I'll post about a recent epiphany about faith and forgiveness. But I recently prayed to be able to forgive the Enigma - and I really didn't think about him till today. And I'm really trying to just stay open to the possibilities. That's why I'm not letting the stupid, superficial thoughts about race or a few awkward conversations (I was def nervous...wonder about him) stand in the way of something great. Nor am I letting the fact that the Enigma was a jerk force me to be unnecessarily protective of my feelings. So I'm just enjoying for now.
Singing in the rain...so to speak
Friday, July 18, 2008
Fine then...you were right
Yeah - all of you with the "when you stop looking..." advice.
Fine. You were right.
I was wrong.
And I may, or may not, be going out with a very nice guy met at happy hour last week.
And I may, or may not, have had 1 very nice conversation with a guy met on match.com.
And I may, or may not, have had 1 other guy email me.
But...I will say you were right. But for fear of jinxing things, I'm not going to say anything else. And if you gloat - I definitely won't say anything else.
Fine. You were right.
I was wrong.
And I may, or may not, be going out with a very nice guy met at happy hour last week.
And I may, or may not, have had 1 very nice conversation with a guy met on match.com.
And I may, or may not, have had 1 other guy email me.
But...I will say you were right. But for fear of jinxing things, I'm not going to say anything else. And if you gloat - I definitely won't say anything else.
Monday, July 14, 2008
When being cute is ugly
I’m a on a health kick lately, so I’ve been spending more time at the gym and less time at the bar. One of my favorite spinning instructors has started teaching a shadow boxing class, so I decided to give it a try. It’s a combination of boxing drills with cardio and plyometric intervals. It was fun.
Except for the 3 “cute” girls in the class.
Don’t get me wrong. I believe in looking put together at all times. I try to make sure my gym clothes match and I comb my hair before showing up, but that’s the extent of my attempts to look cute before the gym. I’m there to get ugly, sweaty, stinky and dirty. If I’m not dripping with sweat and feeling/looking whooped, then it’s not a good work out.
Which is a mindset that makes me different from about 90% of the other black women at the gym. The 3 cute girls in this class had the idea that the gym is a great place to meet guys while kinda doing something active. One kept posing and trying to keep her hair in place. The other two spent at least 25 of the 45 minute class talking to each other while standing or sitting still. Every tough drill was met with mumbles, grumbles, sighs and finally, standing still to talk. Then after class, they put their coordinating jackets on, grabbed their puma bags and walked to their car as if they’d really done something.
This morning, I told the instructor that I had wanted to ask them to leave. Quite honestly, they were distracting me. Plus why were they there, if not to work? What I said opened up the flood gates of 5 weeks of frustration from teaching these women. As a black man who (I guess) frequently dates white women and who puts a lot of time and effort into staying in shape and being healthy, he was perturbed by their “cute” behavior. He spent 10, maybe 15, minutes talking about the frustration of seeing our community deal with preventable illnesses that are attributable to sedentary lifestyles and bad eating. He talked about not seeing blacks on the many FREE hiking trails we have around here (yeah – I’ve experienced that, too). And of seeing the black women stand around the gym and his class and thinking that it’s “cute.” And of having to defend his decision to date white women even though they have more closely aligned interests to him.
And then he asked me why they do that. Well for his class it’s easy. He’s very good looking and likable. Spending an hour with him is pretty cool. These girls probably are looking “cute” for him. But they’re missing the whole point that he’s in shape and healthy and is probably looking for the same thing (or something similar) in a potential mate – meaning that standing around is not going to work for him. In one girl’s defense, she was actually moving, so she’s caught on to that point.
But really, why are we, as black women, willing to sacrifice our health, happiness, and life for vanity? There’s a guest post on one of my favorite blogs AverageBro today. The author used one paragraph to talk about the few black women he saw at a recent Atlanta Braves game. Apparently these women were in heels and were…well…being cute. He used this as an opportunity to point out that when white women go to games, they dress down and maybe this was just another example of why black men date white women. When the comments flared up, he defended his statement, explaining that baseball isn’t the only reason, but is one instance where black women and men aren’t speaking the same language
Like this author, I don’t think that being “cute” is the cause of the demise of the black family, bad health or anything else. But I do think that being “cute” is hindering the growth of black women. The fear of sweating back our hair, the squeezing into that outfit for that event, the whatever we do for the sake of being "cute" – holds us back from experiencing so much in life. What would happen if we just said – I’m going to work out so I can be healthy. We’d be healthy….and cuter. Or if we said – I’m going to go to the baseball game and be comfy and wear my team’s hat and get a hot dog (cause you know eating will mess up your lipstick). We’d have fun…and be cuter.
Here’s the secret being “cute” is not cute. In fact, it’s ugly. Real ugly. Living life, having fun, and being open to new experiences – that’s cute.
Except for the 3 “cute” girls in the class.
Don’t get me wrong. I believe in looking put together at all times. I try to make sure my gym clothes match and I comb my hair before showing up, but that’s the extent of my attempts to look cute before the gym. I’m there to get ugly, sweaty, stinky and dirty. If I’m not dripping with sweat and feeling/looking whooped, then it’s not a good work out.
Which is a mindset that makes me different from about 90% of the other black women at the gym. The 3 cute girls in this class had the idea that the gym is a great place to meet guys while kinda doing something active. One kept posing and trying to keep her hair in place. The other two spent at least 25 of the 45 minute class talking to each other while standing or sitting still. Every tough drill was met with mumbles, grumbles, sighs and finally, standing still to talk. Then after class, they put their coordinating jackets on, grabbed their puma bags and walked to their car as if they’d really done something.
This morning, I told the instructor that I had wanted to ask them to leave. Quite honestly, they were distracting me. Plus why were they there, if not to work? What I said opened up the flood gates of 5 weeks of frustration from teaching these women. As a black man who (I guess) frequently dates white women and who puts a lot of time and effort into staying in shape and being healthy, he was perturbed by their “cute” behavior. He spent 10, maybe 15, minutes talking about the frustration of seeing our community deal with preventable illnesses that are attributable to sedentary lifestyles and bad eating. He talked about not seeing blacks on the many FREE hiking trails we have around here (yeah – I’ve experienced that, too). And of seeing the black women stand around the gym and his class and thinking that it’s “cute.” And of having to defend his decision to date white women even though they have more closely aligned interests to him.
And then he asked me why they do that. Well for his class it’s easy. He’s very good looking and likable. Spending an hour with him is pretty cool. These girls probably are looking “cute” for him. But they’re missing the whole point that he’s in shape and healthy and is probably looking for the same thing (or something similar) in a potential mate – meaning that standing around is not going to work for him. In one girl’s defense, she was actually moving, so she’s caught on to that point.
But really, why are we, as black women, willing to sacrifice our health, happiness, and life for vanity? There’s a guest post on one of my favorite blogs AverageBro today. The author used one paragraph to talk about the few black women he saw at a recent Atlanta Braves game. Apparently these women were in heels and were…well…being cute. He used this as an opportunity to point out that when white women go to games, they dress down and maybe this was just another example of why black men date white women. When the comments flared up, he defended his statement, explaining that baseball isn’t the only reason, but is one instance where black women and men aren’t speaking the same language
Like this author, I don’t think that being “cute” is the cause of the demise of the black family, bad health or anything else. But I do think that being “cute” is hindering the growth of black women. The fear of sweating back our hair, the squeezing into that outfit for that event, the whatever we do for the sake of being "cute" – holds us back from experiencing so much in life. What would happen if we just said – I’m going to work out so I can be healthy. We’d be healthy….and cuter. Or if we said – I’m going to go to the baseball game and be comfy and wear my team’s hat and get a hot dog (cause you know eating will mess up your lipstick). We’d have fun…and be cuter.
Here’s the secret being “cute” is not cute. In fact, it’s ugly. Real ugly. Living life, having fun, and being open to new experiences – that’s cute.
Friday, July 11, 2008
PS
Ask and you shall receive.
Miss you, too, Patty xo. When you FINALLY decide to come home, you have to stop in Cali, ok?
Miss you, too, Patty xo. When you FINALLY decide to come home, you have to stop in Cali, ok?
Adventures in (not) dating
Yeah – I’m back on Match.com. Because I’m a masochist, obviously. I love the self-torture of subjecting myself to paying for reject. FUN!
So things didn’t work out with the figment of my imagination. We met once. Hung out for HOURS playing Scrabble, drinking tea, and having dinner. Yes, he was fat and not rich and had HORRIBLE clothes (truly tragic clothing). But he was nice and sweet, and I had thoroughly enjoyed his company and conversation over the months. Of course after we met, he disappeared. Just like – whoosh – gone.
So that’s over. Haven’t heard from the enigma or the old man either. I occasionally think of them, but it’s not as hard as it was back in March.
So it’s just Match.com for now…which is pretty horrible. I posted the picture that’s also my profile picture here – I’ve had lots of looks at my profile, but only 2 emails. Seriously – that’s less than a 2% response rate. I’ve emailed guys and have had 0 responses. Um, yeah. It’s definitely driving me crazy. I’m a results-oriented person….so I’m getting pretty obsessed with the fact that there’s no results.
So that’s that – same song, different day – sorry there’s nothing more exciting to say there.
So things didn’t work out with the figment of my imagination. We met once. Hung out for HOURS playing Scrabble, drinking tea, and having dinner. Yes, he was fat and not rich and had HORRIBLE clothes (truly tragic clothing). But he was nice and sweet, and I had thoroughly enjoyed his company and conversation over the months. Of course after we met, he disappeared. Just like – whoosh – gone.
So that’s over. Haven’t heard from the enigma or the old man either. I occasionally think of them, but it’s not as hard as it was back in March.
So it’s just Match.com for now…which is pretty horrible. I posted the picture that’s also my profile picture here – I’ve had lots of looks at my profile, but only 2 emails. Seriously – that’s less than a 2% response rate. I’ve emailed guys and have had 0 responses. Um, yeah. It’s definitely driving me crazy. I’m a results-oriented person….so I’m getting pretty obsessed with the fact that there’s no results.
So that’s that – same song, different day – sorry there’s nothing more exciting to say there.
I am my hair….or Why my afro is an act of courage
Not quite a year ago I got a weave. It seemed like an okay idea at the time, I was trying to grow my hair out and was bored with braids. I have to admit, I loved it. It was fun. I got looks. No dates, but lots of “Hey, Shawty-s” – which is what every woman wants, right?.
Well, my hair grew. And in March, my stylist said it was getting too long to reasonably keep putting it in a weave. So a few weeks ago, I took it out. That night, I let her blow it dry and flat iron/press it. I’ve flat ironed it twice since and have not enjoyed the hassle of dealing with it, plus I’ve fried a corner of it and my curls are doing something funky – probably cause I had the heat too high.
So now, I’m rocking the afro and its variants.
I like it. It looks like me. It’s work to get the curls right and bright and glossy and defined, but it looks good on me – I think at least. And when my outfit is right, I think it looks very chic…like how I think that a black Michael Kors or J Crew model should look – classic, but with a funky twist. And the little girls at church like it – and I think that if a 5 or 10 year old likes it, that’s saying something, because they’re so much more honest than the rest of us.
But I’ve had at least 5 grown ups ask me: what are you doing with your hair now? My answer is: wear my hair. To which they reply: “Oh.” Because not straightening or texturizing or braiding or weaving my hair is such a crazy idea, right? Heaven forbid I just wear my hair.
Which is why my afro is an act of courage. Yeah, I’ll probably straighten it on first and second and third dates and for interviews or any other high-importance event because people do not seem to be with it as far afros. But the rest of the time, I’m being brave enough to wear my hair. Plus – it’s just hair. Hell-O…I’ve been bald before and would shave it again in a heart beat. My new job is with an organization whose mission is to inspire girls to be strong, smart, and bold, and staff is expected to model that mindset everyday at the office. In a little way, I hope that my afro encourages the girls that are around the office to be healthy with all decisions – including hair care and wearing the hair they’re given.
My afro is an act of loving myself and finding the courage to be happy with my beauty. And I’m trying – every day – to be more like my hair.
Well, my hair grew. And in March, my stylist said it was getting too long to reasonably keep putting it in a weave. So a few weeks ago, I took it out. That night, I let her blow it dry and flat iron/press it. I’ve flat ironed it twice since and have not enjoyed the hassle of dealing with it, plus I’ve fried a corner of it and my curls are doing something funky – probably cause I had the heat too high.
So now, I’m rocking the afro and its variants.
I like it. It looks like me. It’s work to get the curls right and bright and glossy and defined, but it looks good on me – I think at least. And when my outfit is right, I think it looks very chic…like how I think that a black Michael Kors or J Crew model should look – classic, but with a funky twist. And the little girls at church like it – and I think that if a 5 or 10 year old likes it, that’s saying something, because they’re so much more honest than the rest of us.
But I’ve had at least 5 grown ups ask me: what are you doing with your hair now? My answer is: wear my hair. To which they reply: “Oh.” Because not straightening or texturizing or braiding or weaving my hair is such a crazy idea, right? Heaven forbid I just wear my hair.
Which is why my afro is an act of courage. Yeah, I’ll probably straighten it on first and second and third dates and for interviews or any other high-importance event because people do not seem to be with it as far afros. But the rest of the time, I’m being brave enough to wear my hair. Plus – it’s just hair. Hell-O…I’ve been bald before and would shave it again in a heart beat. My new job is with an organization whose mission is to inspire girls to be strong, smart, and bold, and staff is expected to model that mindset everyday at the office. In a little way, I hope that my afro encourages the girls that are around the office to be healthy with all decisions – including hair care and wearing the hair they’re given.
My afro is an act of loving myself and finding the courage to be happy with my beauty. And I’m trying – every day – to be more like my hair.
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Pardon the Interruption
Sorry I disappeared for a few weeks. The new job has me actually doing work at work. Gasp! I know, right? But I, dare I say it, like it. The work is hard, challenging, but good. It’s nice to be someplace where I am valued and what I’m doing is valuable to people. Never underestimate the value of work that matters.
I’ve got a couple new post ideas in my head – as soon as I have time to write, they’ll be online.
I’ve got a couple new post ideas in my head – as soon as I have time to write, they’ll be online.
Sunday, June 8, 2008
Brilliant and Fabulous...in PRINT
I've made it into my neighborhood newspaper. Hooray for me! Woohoo!
Seriously - I wrote this mostly in response to some round about arguing on the neighborhood association listserv, and an edited version made it into the paper. You can get a hard copy at local businesses along MacArthur Blvd.
Seriously - I wrote this mostly in response to some round about arguing on the neighborhood association listserv, and an edited version made it into the paper. You can get a hard copy at local businesses along MacArthur Blvd.
We Are the Ones We Have Been Waiting For: Our Response to Crime in Our City
There is nothing new about crime and violence in the city of Oakland. We live in a city with an underfunded police force, an underfunded school system, and an overstretched social network that can't reach everyone who needs it. The challenge falls to us, the residents, to find a solution and build a better, safer city.
Lately, the crime seems like drug-resistant bacteria immune to the past cures. But both the cure and the preventive measure are already inside the neighborhood. We simply need to take advantage of it by building our community.'
In the Laurel District, where I live, we are often vulnerable to some crimes because we are away from our homes so much of the time, creating an opportunity for criminals to act. There aren't enough residents out—walking, gardening, and even driving around—to keep them at bay. And because we're so often not at home, many of us don't know our neighbors—particularly the young men—and have no opportunity to keep track of who may or may not be causing trouble.'
First, we can address this by being active within the neighborhood—taking walks, tending our gardens, and patronizing our merchants—so criminals know that if anything happens it will be noticed.
Second, we must be nosy with a purpose. Pay attention to your neighbors. What kids and teens are on your street? Who are their friends? When are they around? This not only helps deter the troublemakers but also, should something ever happen to one of the kids (a lost child, an abduction, an injury, etc.), you know whom to contact.
Third, be the squeaky wheel. Don't just accept empty promises that cost officials nothing and us everything; demand (new) solutions and reject the status quo. Oakland probably won't get the police force we want for many years. We need to find alternatives that will address the problem with the resources we have.
Finally, be patient. When your doctor gives you a prescription, you are told to take the entire dose—even if your symptoms go away. Crime may fade or even get worse as we try to fight it, but we can't give up. The city will not get better if we leave.'
We can choose to live in fear and take actions that do nothing to break the cycle of violence, or we can choose to live in hope and take actions that create the better future we all want. In the words of the Hopi Elders, "We are the ones we've been waiting for."
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