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Talk to Me Nice . . .

6 weeks ago, my whole world turned upside down.  Not as a euphemism, but like actually turned upside down.  I left Arizona, headed to MI on a plane on March 30th, with a job and a home. 10 days later, I was going to be homeless because the house I was renting was going on the market. “But we will of course honor your lease,” said the white woman.  My lease was up for renewal at the end of June.

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So I flew back to AZ, and packed up my entire life in less than a week.  Followed by DRIVING 2167 miles from Tucson, AZ to West Bloomfield, MI. Because, why not?  Did I forget to mention my 70 Lb dog . . . whose favorite thing in LIFE is to be in a car with me.  I had to drug him . . . because just NO.

6-dog

This is just here to set the scene for the actual point of this blog, because it’s important to know my mindset on this journey from AZ to MI. I was doing what I HAD to do, not what I wanted to do.  My life was in AZ. I started a business, I had friends (well like 10 of them, but still), my life wasn’t great but it wasn’t bad either.

Or so I thought.

I’ve been a Social Worker for 6 years.  Which means I understand things like “Survivor Mode,” and “Secondary Trauma,” but some kind of way, I didn’t know I was dealing with that, and in all honesty probably had been for at least 2 years.  Basically after my seizure, I just went into survivor mode and I haven’t stopped.

So much shit – good, bad, and horrible – has happened to me since I had that seizure.  Gained and lost friends, gained and lost family members, discovered Medicinal Marijuana, fell in and out of love with several people, dealt with my mother’s illnesses, got a dog, etc.

But I’d just been going full force.  Working 12 – 18 hour days, with one off day during the weekend, and usually I had stuff to do so I didn’t get the chance to just de-stress.  I’m actually slightly surprised I managed to function that long without having a serious mental breakdown.

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Looking back, I was in a rut of my own making.  I wasn’t very social.  But then again, Arizona is NOT very social.  There is nothing to do that doesn’t require hiking or swimming in extreme heat.  Which is bullshit, because FAT. Thus leading to the theme of my 2000+ mile journey: “Why the FUCK did I ever think I was Happy in Arizona?!?”

Click here for my definition of Happy

I was miserable.  I was irritable all the time, and I put up with bullshit because it was the best I could get.  I put up with a nigga (and the sex was garbage) because at least he was a Black Man in Arizona that liked me. I ignored my feelings for the only otha Black Man in Arizona that liked me, because I didn’t want to ruin it. I lost myself in AZ.  I forgot I was cute.  I forgot I was sexy, I forgot that I was a GOT DAMN UNICORN.

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I”m a 36 year old Black Woman.  I have 1 degree, and enough professional knowledge to have 2 more.  In multiple disciplines.  I’m the GOT DAMN Autism Whisperer.  My Vagina is a got damn miracle.  It could change your life, if you let it. I’m smart, capable of doing anything, and a cunning linguist. Driving cross country I realized several things about my life going forward.

  1. You never know how people view you.  You can have this thought, that the way you present yourself to someone lands the same exact way, every single time.  It doesn’t. One of the men I love {or am In love with, depends on the day}, (because I’m allowed to love more than one person at a time, SOCIETY) he sees this strong and resilient person, who never gives up and always perseveres.  He thinks I’m a strong person, even though I feel like I call him and cry like once every 3 months.  About completely different things, and I always feel so damn stupid for crying about it, because I’m supposed to be an adult at all times. So I feel weak, and less than for being vulnerable to him. And his take, “You may feel you’re not where you wanna be in life, but you’re right where you are supposed to be.” *thug tears*
  2. Love is Love is Love is LoveIt doesn’t have to look like anything other than something that makes you happy every single GOT DAMN day of your life. You don’t have to choose between the person who makes you laugh, and the person who makes your lady parts tingle.  No one has the right to tell you what your love HAS to look like.  Talk to the people, tell them your preferences.  If they aren’t down with the Get Down, that’s okay.  But don’t compromise yourself, to settle with what other people think is good for you.  We are living in Trump’s whole ass ‘Murica.  The world could end tomorrow, don’t waste it being sad because your needs aren’t being met. 
  3. I’m done apologizing for the way I’ve lived my life thus far.  I’m done feeling ashamed for the missteps I’ve taken.  I’m done trying to make up for the fact that I didn’t feel like I was an adult until a week ago.  I’m over anyone who tries to tell me how I should live my life, and navigate the world.  Be they Family, Friend or Foe – GTFOH with your rules and expectations.  I get to walk through the world in this new body I’m creating for myself.  I get to eat whatever the hell I want, and also RUN A FUCKING MILE for the first time in my life. The only people in this world who get to dictate how I live my life, are the people I choose to listen to.  I’m in charge of this ship now.  No more letting the wind take me wherethefuckever. 

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I’m sure I’ve written in the past that today is the day my life is different.  I’m sure at the time I wholeheartedly believed it.  Maybe things did change, in a way. But this version of MJ, the one writing this blog has already won.  She is living in her GOT DAMN truth.  And it’s Sofa King Fabulous.

Please, join me. 

Let’s live our Best Whole Ass Lives for the rest of 2018. 

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I Can’t Drink You Away….

This blog MIGHT be all over the place (kinda like my emotions right now) but I promise there is a central theme.

*******Avengers: Infinity War Spoilers********

We all said, nothing can ever be better than Black Panther. I THINK we were wrong. This movie is just….. So first off, FUCK THANOS. His entire existence just ruined my life. For a myriad of reasons. The last 20 mins of that movie are 1000000000 times worse than the Red Wedding episode of GOT.

But what has me awake at 4:30am like I don’t have shit to do in 3 hours, is the relationship between Thanos & Gamora.

He stole her, after he destroyed half of her planet’s inhabitants. He killed her mother, and told her it had to happen that way. He then trained her to be a deadly assassin who traveled the world killing for him. Because he’s an ASSHOLE.

Even though Gamora swore she hated him, when she *thought* she had actually killed him it tore her apart. Like broke her all the way down. Because even after all the abuse, and hate, and self-loathing, that was her FATHER. Every girl just wants a Daddy.

My life is in chaos right now. I reached out to my father, who has more than enough money to help me deal with this situation. It’s an unexpected life altering event, right as I took 2 months (unpaid) FMLA off to help my mom.

I knew he was going to say no. I knew it in my soul. I told my mom he was going to say no. He did. I wasn’t even shocked. I had already been working on another solution to the problem. He has never helped me out in a crisis. He has actually caused the last 2. And yet…..I asked. At 36, I still held an impossibly small piece of hope he would come through for me.

Because that’s what parents are supposed to fucking do – Help their children in times of need. That’s what our relationship was until I was around 12. The spoiled girl who was pampered and NEVER told no until she started gaining weight……she didn’t understand why the relationship just changed. It went from fun to weight control and walking 4 miles a day in the Arizona heat. I didn’t handle the transition well, because I wasn’t prepared for it.

My Hero. That’s who and what I used to think my father was. You couldn’t tell me shit bad about him. And due to his “strict religious and moral beliefs,” he would of course never lie to me or hurt me. Because that’s what the Bible says. But not the Good Reverend. That nigga worked 50 years to push his kids out the house at 18, and tell them to fend for themselves. Because that’s HIS moral obligation. Now, where this supposed code came from, I don’t know.

It took me way too long to understand this code of ethics even existed. [Partially due to my mother’s parenting style, because she’s the best mom ever] I was used to having a need, telling my primary parent at the moment, and getting what I needed. Some people called it spoiled…not sure why. Some part of me still felt, even after all the times he had disappointed me – if I can just explain why it’s so urgent that I need his help, he won’t say no then. I keep banging my head up against this emotional wall.

Always leaving a door open, or a window slightly cracked hoping he will be different this time. Because I never felt more loved and appreciated than when I used to go visit my father in Tucson and Pittsburgh. I still crave that….feeling. I write about wanting that all the time. Thanks to therapy, I know the root of that. But this blog isn’t REALLY about my daddy issues.

I know, insanity. The kid inside of me always feels so less than when dealing with him, because I’m still trying to get him to:

  • Acknowledge that parenthood doesn’t end when your children reach 18.
  • HELP ME GOT DAMMIT

Back briefly to Avengers.

In order for Thanos to reach one of his final goals, he LITERALLY threw Gamora over a cliff, and killed her. I started crying right then. Because GOTDAMN! Gamora’s face as she was falling, throwing out her hands and hoping by some miracle he would save her in the last minutes…….

It was like seeing myself on screen. (This conclusion is why I’m still awake right now) Every time I call my father specifically for his help, I’m hanging off the cliff holding on for dear life. He reaches down, and lifts each finger off, while telling me something about budgeting for unexpected events.

That’s how I see my dad. I paid the mortgage on a house that was in his name for 4 years, for him to tell me if I didn’t let my DEADBEAT ASS SISTER move in (and pay no rent or contribute to the household….did I mention shes is 22 years older than me) he would sell the house, and I would be homeless. This was of course about a WEEK after I had a Grand Mal Seizure at the gym and dislocated my shoulder. And my mom was already staying there to help me recover FROM A FUCKING SEIZURE.

Did Thanos love Gamora, yes? But he – and by extension his agenda – was still more important to himself than his child. I just don’t understand how that is. I try really hard to look at everything from both sides. But my dad….

Seriously tho, Fuck that Nigga Thanos.

I just…. I can’t wait for the day when I can not have “daddy issues” flare ups. This shit is worse than herpes. I might be done tho…because exhausted. Also, I might have already said too much. I had to edit like 4 times before I could post this. Because feelings.

Fuck Thanos So Much

I Can’t be Racist . . . I have White Friends!

It’s important to tell anyone reading this, I didn’t actually understand that I was Black, until I was about 7.  I never looked in the mirror, and some of my best friends in Elementary school were white.  I assumed I looked like them.  Call it childish innocence.  It wasn’t until my lil’ redheaded friend’s father wouldn’t let me sleep over their house, and my mom had to explain to me why.  I don’t remember exactly how I felt, but as I remember the event some 30 years later, I’m sure it made an impact.

Thats Racist

In high school, my group of friends was like the United Colors of Benetton.  We took our “Buddy Pictures” in plaid flannel of all colors.  There was a biracial girl, 2 white girls, a Filipino girl, and me. Imagine my surprise when one of my white friend’s dad was angry that she was friends with me.  I had talked to this man on the phone almost every day for a year.  He KNEW me, I thought.  That’s when I found out her dad was racist.

The majority of my life, I’ve befriended people based solely on merit. If you can hold a conversation, or we have something in common, or we work together, I’ll talk to you.  I’ve never really looked at race as a determining factor in my relationships with people.  I don’t mean, “I don’t see color,” I mean color didn’t determine your worth in my life.

Then Travyon Martin was killed.

All of a sudden, people I’d been friends with all my life – some people I considered FAMILY – were saying the most horrifically racist things about this CHILD who was killed by an overzealous asshole, who was probably racist.

“I mean, maybe he did attack that guy!”

“Why was he looking suspicious in a neighborhood he didn’t belong in?”

“I have to hear both sides . . “

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For the first time in my life, I realized that my existence as a Black Woman was in no way separate from my position/worth in some of the relationships in my life. I was the Black friend,  not the black friend.  I was being regarded as “hostile,” and “argumentative” for expressing an opinion.

Then, Mike Brown was Killed.

It was at this point, I started to lose friends in droves.  Before it had been, “Let’s just agree to disagree,” and precarious alliances were formed.  As long as I didn’t express my opinions, or acknowledge the unfairness of the USA, it was all fine.  But I couldn’t be quiet. I had to express myself, the pain was too great. First it was unfollowing people on FB, then I was being cussed out in the comments of my own posts, then it was people blocking me.

I’d never specifically expressed myself as a Black Woman around my friends.  I shied away from all that, because I understood it wasn’t worth the fight.  “Just shut up MJ, they won’t get it.”  Suddenly, I was trying to MAKE people understand.  I tried to have serious dialogues with people about race in America, and how it affects everyone in some shape or form.

Then, #BlackBoyJoy happened.

There was a video of a little Black boy dancing to some song, I honestly don’t remember what song.  I shared it on my FB page, with a comment like, “I love to see a Little Black Boy having fun!” There were probably some heart eye emojis, because HELLO! Lil Black Boys dancing is ADORABLE.

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The step sister of my best friend – my LONGEST friendship (since 5th grade Latchkey), my #WhiteBoyBestFriend – commented on the status something to the effect of, “All children having fun is beautiful, why just black boys?”

I can admit now, she caught me on an off day.  Any other day, I would have probably just blocked her.  But I had TIME that day. I didn’t call her out on my status, I sent her a FB message.  I’ve known her since she was 12 years old, and her mom married my best friend’s dad. I was trying very hard to maintain this relationship.  Maybe she didn’t understand that she was #AllLivesMattering my post.

I’d felt some time of way about her for years.  She, IMO, was the Epitome of what was wrong with America.  She was white, and entitled, and felt that everything should always go her way.  She had never had to be hungry, or experience life failures (to my knowledge), or fear for her life when she got pulled over by a cop.  She lived with her parents, was over 25 and had NO SHAME in that.  She did the absolute bare minimum on an hourly basis, and somehow, she felt she had the right to tell ME, that #AllLivesMatter.

I was tired of her, and her White Privilege.  Her Whiteness was offensive to me that day. I tried yall, I really did.

Seriously, my pride in beautiful black children is my own…allow me to have it without trying to make the focus about you and ur feelings

Calm your bitch down dude. I asked a genuine question. There is absolutely no need to jump down my throat. You know, I used to believe you were a tolerant and understanding person, but I have to say that I no longer see that in you. I see a very angry person and that saddens me. I don’t know what happened but I feel sorry for you.

Note: My response . . . and hers. I started off doing so well, right?!?!? Like I didn’t call her out her name, or ANYTHING. Because, growth.  But after her response tho . . . I went the FUCK OFF.

So since you already pity me [I’ll] tell you this. You live in a world that doesn’t exist. You are the EPITOME of White Privilege and Frailty. If you have paid attention to ANYTHING I’ve posted in [the] last 3 years, you would know “what’s wrong with me.” You are vain, and selfish, and I pity what your life is going to become.

Keep talking bitch

Of course I had to call my best friend, and tell him what had happened.  I screenshot the convo, and told him I understood if he wanted to fall back on our friendship for a while.  Thankfully, he said, “That’s between you two.  I’m not in it.” It was at that moment when I had to remind myself – They aren’t all like that.

Some Facts which, at this point, must be Stated:

  • Whiteness is a threat to most people of color. Anytime I, in my Blackness, challenge the status quo (Whiteness), I am attacked in various ways and on multiple levels.
  • White Women, and their fragility is harmful to the voices of People of Color.  I’m tired of quieting my voice so that white tears can be heard.
  • I Don’t Hate White People. I hate White Privilege.

All this has been written to say: I’ve been entirely too quiet about this feeling of . . . unease I have regarding our current  society.  My fear/anger is turning me into a person who pushes buttons on purpose.  I wear/purchase shirts just to piss off the people I see.  I wear my hair in an Afro to offend the eyes of people who dislike – or are uncomfortable with – Blackness. I put color in my hair because I know people think it’s “Ghetto,” not creative, because I’m Black.

There are a myriad of White people in my life on a daily basis.  I have White friends on FB, Instagram, and at work.  Lately, I’ve had to put disclaimers on my status’ and posts, and what I say in group settings.  Sometimes I don’t even speak at all.  Because of the impact it could have on my job, my life, my relationships is too great. {Which is a PROBLEM}

The . . . silencing of my voice is getting to me.  It’s making me fall into depressive states on a regular basis.  When I trace back the origins of all my waves of depression in 2017, it was an instance when I silenced myself in some way.

Tupac Shhhhh

I’m not Racist . . . . I’m Black. This shit is HARD.

Before I’m a woman, before I’m a Social Worker, before I’m a Friend, before I’m a Daughter, I’m Black.  The burden of that . . the weight of that in today’s society is slowly sucking the Joy out of me.  It’s like you have a 1,000,000LB weight on your back, and every white person can’t see it.  Better yet, they keep saying to you, “Girl, it’s just 3 flights of stairs.  You can do it, because I did!” It’s making me bitter. It makes me think snide ass comments about Whiteness, then feel bad for thinking it.

To ME: My Blackness is beautiful.  My skin is damn near flawless, I haven’t aged since I was 12 (I have the pics to prove it.) My hair is amazing.  I can do 1000 things with my natural hair, and it will be just as beautiful. My curves are sexy – these hips can hurt you if I want them to, or they can change your life. The original woman probably looked just like me.

To Society: My Blackness makes me less than. My Blackness is ugly, and the exact opposite of Beauty. My hair is ugly, dirty, and nappy.  My curves are unhealthy and I don’t deserve to sit comfortably in any chair, ever.  People who looked like me, were shaped like me, where kept in museums and displayed at circuses. {Look up Venus Hottentot}

Adulthood for me, is finally understanding the real meaning of the following poem:

Mother to Son

BY LANGSTON HUGHES

Well, son, I’ll tell you:

Life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.

It’s had tacks in it,

And splinters,

And boards torn up,

And places with no carpet on the floor—

Bare.

But all the time

I’se been a-climbin’ on,

And reachin’ landin’s,

And turnin’ corners,

And sometimes goin’ in the dark

Where there ain’t been no light.

So boy, don’t you turn back.

Don’t you set down on the steps

’Cause you finds it’s kinder hard.

Don’t you fall now—

For I’se still goin’, honey,

I’se still climbin’,

And life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.

This is Blackness in 2018.  This is Me.

Can You Hear Me? Do You See Me?

The Whiteness Spectrum – Explained

***This blog is meant to educate, not offend.
If you you feel some kind of way, Remember, Hit Dogs Holler.***

During a conversation with one of my clients (who is African American), she was lamenting on the phenomenon of White people speaking to us (African American People) like we are idiots. Sometimes it’s overt other times subtle, but it happens all the damn time.  As I worked on trying to prevent her from punching this lady in the face, I offered her my theory on The Whiteness Spectrum.

“She’s a low functioning White Woman, you have to cut her some slack.”

As with any Spectrum, you have to make concessions at times for those who are lower functioning.  You can’t really be mad at them, because they often don’t know any better.  I present, to those of you who haven’t closed out the blog yet, The Whiteness Spectrum – Explained.


If life was a point system, White people start out about 100 points ahead. From birth. Based purely on the fact that they were born White. The point system might look something like this:

White: +100
Black: 0
Light skinned Black: +25
Born Racially Ambiguous: +40
Hispanic (in the US): +25
Caucasian Featured Hispanic (in the US): +50
Asian (in the US): +75

There are – of course – factors that can add to/subtract from, your overall point total.

Poverty (while White): -50
Poverty (while Person of Color): -100
White Male Privilege: +100
White Female Fragility: +150
Born Black Male: -50
Born Black Woman: -75
White LGBT: -25
LGBT Person of Color: -50
Born in to Wealth: +100
Physically Disabled: -50
Form of Mental Illness (while White): -10
Form of Mental Illness (while POC): -25
Developmental Disability (while White): -25
Developmental Disability (while POC): -50
Good Credit: +50
Bad Credit: -50
Single Parent Household: -25
Higher Education (while White): +100
Higher Education (while POC): +50
Higher Education (while Black): +35
Lives 200% above the the poverty line (while White): +75
Live 200% above the poverty line (while POC): +50
Exposure to other cultures (while White): +25
Exposure to other cultures (while POC): +50
Drug Addiction (while White): -25
Drug addiction (while POC): -75
Childhood Trauma (while White): – 50
Childhood Trauma (while POC): – 150

The math is important, because it will help you to understand this next part.  The lower your score, the higher you rate on The Whiteness Spectrum.  I’ve envisioned this spectrum ranging from Low to High Functioning, using the following explanations.

*This isn’t an exact Science, obviously.*


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Low Functioning:

Those people who have never had to work for anything. It’s simply been handed to them their whole lives. Born White, the term average is based on their life experience.  They are the litmus test for all national polls, survey’s, studies, etc. Life has been good to them for the most part.  The things that happen to some people, those events in life that build internal strength and fortitude, they passed these people right on by. They know nothing more than their own world. They have no real concept of need, barely ever want for anything. They’ve never went without life’s basic necessities.

These can also be people that use their Privilege as a weapon to attack others. The Racists, the Homophobes, the Xenophobes, the White Nationalists, etc. The people who cut in line or constantly scream, “But I was Told By Apple Care!!!” Those who refuse to see their status quo change.

They’ve never had to “do the work.”  They’ve never had to look at their child and explain why dinner is just Kraft Mac & Cheese.  They’ve never had to struggle in front of a classroom because they couldn’t read.  They’ve never had to step outside themselves and sacrifice for their younger siblings to have clothing/shoes. They are easily frustrated/annoyed when having to deal with something outside their scope of life experience.

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Mild to Moderate Functioning:

Those people who have stumbled in their life. Maybe labeled ADHD, or raised by a single parent after a divorce.  Maybe they were chubby/fat as a youth, or had a crush on someone who rejected them.  They’ve felt hurt/pain/disappointment on more than a few occasions.  Maybe they went to public school, and happened to make friends with a Person of Color. Maybe they saw Mississippi Burning in middle school, and thought to themselves, “Well, that’s fucked up!”

They’ve signed some petitions about Global Warming, they might even vote Democrat. They have a Black Friend. They still remember that one time in high school when everyone walked out because the new AP grading system wasn’t fair.  They have thoughts about how to change the world, but they usually keep them to themselves.

Stirring the pot isn’t really their style, but they will march if everyone else is going too. They converse with like minded friends/colleagues about the current state of the world, but they aren’t quite affected {yet}.

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High Functioning:

Raised in the worst neighborhoods, or even in the Foster Care System. Affected by abuse in it’s many forms, either done to them or seen as a child that was done to a parent. Bullied as a child, or even as an adult. Fought poverty to make something of themselves, had a mentor/coach/teacher who believed in them when no one else did. Maybe had a parent or parents who insisted they be involved in the Model UN.  Went to college on some kind of financial aid or scholarship, and fought to keep it.

Took classes that no one else was taking, joined clubs just to learn about new cultures.  Joined a Black Greek Letter Organization, and not just because they liked the “dancing.” Attends every march, and not just to spectate. Knew about the Dakota Access Pipeline protests BEFORE it was being covered on the news.  Unfriends people on Facebook for saying/posting/liking stupid, ignorant, racist shit. Fights with family members who voted for 45.

They put in the work.  They see injustice, and decide to use their Privilege in a positive way to help others.  Understands they even have Privilege in the first place. Asks the hard questions, and wants to have the hard conversations for the sake of understanding.  Helps others in their job or in their spare time, sometimes both. Strives to make the world a better place for everyone, not just them.


As stated, this isn’t an exact science.  It’s not based on anything but my observations throughout my life. This is how I am trying to figure out how to deal with my daily life experiences. I welcome feedback 🙂

Based on the point system, where do you range? Is it accurate?

Soooooooooo, Here’s the Thing…

 
*For the purposes of this blog, the following definitions must be stated*

Choice: the opportunity or power to choose between two or more possibilities : the opportunity or power to make a decision

Validate: to recognize, establish, or illustrate the worthiness or legitimacy of {something}

Suffer: to become worse because of being badly affected by something

While in the process of writing this book – thanks to a challenge from my sisfer Erin – I’ve been looking over lots of my old writings. Sometimes, I’ve shared with people the stuff I’ve found.  I am, in a very real sense, a digital hoarder.  I save most emails, AIM/Yahoe Conversations, even drafts of text messages I never sent.  I pay for Handcent Premium so I can save my text messages in the event I have to get a new phone.  It’s a serious issue.

Since I started using MySpace to blog, I’ve made a very conscious decision to save things I felt mattered to me.  Or would mean something in the future.  95% of the time I was actually correct.  I’m tell you all this because after spending all this time looking at my past – and trying to figure out why I make certain life choices – I’ve come to several decisions/conclusions/realizations.  These are some, not all. The list is actually quite extensive.

1) With Adulthood, Comes Censorship

I used to curse all the time.  Every other word was shit or damn or fuck. It was in my every day vernacular, and I didn’t care how it affected anyone around me.  I wish I still felt it was okay to speak that way.  It’s easier when you aren’t thinking about the ramifications of your actions/words.  I wrote whole blogs about how much I hated people and their actions.  I even used full government names.  I so didn’t care.

July 2009, I got my first professional job. People could Google me… I was on the first page.  I locked my Twitter Account, made my FB unsearchable, and never used my name on this blog.  People were looking to me for a very specific kind of thing, and them searching my name and finding Save a Horse – Ride a Big Girl wasn’t exactly what I needed to happen.  My blogs become much more broad, and lacked lots of personal details.  In real life, I was still expressing myself. I just chose to do it a different way.

It should be noted, I’m tired of censoring myself. This means, I’m not going to spare your feelings if you have hurt mine. I’ve always been an asshole, I had just started to be more tactful when I said asshole things. That’s gone.

2) Accountability is a thing now . . . 

Another major change in my life is my current job.  The fact that it saved me notwithstanding, it’s taught me what it means to be fully accountable for the choices you make.  Good/Bad/Indifferent you control your life.  No other human being can make you do anything, without you at one point giving them permission to do so. *DV/SA/Trauma Situations excluded of course*

Even if you are traumatized by something that happens in your life, it’s your CHOICE to wallow and suffer afterward.  Everyone has the right to recover, process, and deal with our lives.  Suffering is a CHOICE. Stop blaming shit on your friends, and your parents, and your ex-boyfriend. You made a choice to drink that night, you made a choice to borrow that money for the loan, you made a choice to stay with him/her after they cheated.

I don’t do Victims anymore.  Because I am NOT one. So we can talk and make a plan about how you are going to deal with your issues, but I will NOT help you be sad/mad/angry/sad ever again.

3) Own Your Shit

Right along with #2, stop trying to seek validation from other people for your choices. “It was just weighing down on me, I had to say something.” What the FUCK for?!?!?  I didn’t want that guilt, it’s not mine to have.  Why must you spread the shit that’s killing you inside? That’s like making Cancer an airborne disease.  Do we do that now? If whatever it is you “need” to tell me isn’t going to make me money, or save my life . . . Please keep that shit to yourself.

Yesterday, I had an existential life crisis about my past relationships and their functionality {or rather, that they only served one function}. I was emo all day. But I dealt with it.  That’s what the FUCK adults do.  You can’t be 32 damn years old, blaming other people for your body count. You just can’t. I had to come to the realization that I was judging myself, based on society’s views of where I should be at this point in my life. FUCK Society tho. She’s a dirty foul whore, who can’t make up her mind.

4) Set Your Own Rules

Live your life the way YOU want to live it. Not the way your parents told you to, not the way your friends think you should, not the way you were taught to in catholic school. Rules are put into place as a guideline, not to be shackles to stop you from being happy.  When you start feeling bad for a CHOICE you’ve made, ask yourself the following questions:

1) Am I Hurting anyone in a way they won’t be able to recover?
1a) If I am hurting someone, does this mean I will lose this relationship and/or can I deal with the loss of it?
2) Am I making this choice to please someone else, or myself?
2a) If I am making this decision to please someone else, is this going to change my life in a positive or a negative way?
3) Am I seeking Validation for this choice?
3a) If I am seeking Validation, is it to be absolved of guilt about this choice?

Live your life on your own terms.  The same people we frequently seek approval from, aren’t doing the same thing when it comes to us.  People make choices that affect our lives everyday, and they didn’t and/or don’t care how you feel about it. As callous as that sounds, it’s very true. I’m not here to validate you.  I’m not here to save you from your bad decision, or the regret you have because of it. I do that everyday at work.  I have taken off my cape, please react accordingly.

5) Trust is Earned, Not Given

I don’t lie. I may omit some truths when meeting people, but, more than likely, if asked I will tell the truth.  For the majority of my life, I thought everyone did the same thing.  The realization that people don’t think like me, and/or live their life with that same philosophy was mind-blowing {only child syndrome}.  It should be noted and acknowledged, as I jump with both feet into the puddle that is my 30’s, I don’t trust you.

Everything that comes out of your mouth is a lie until you prove otherwise.  I’ve seen/heard people lie on and about me to my face in the last few years.  Sometimes people are so used to lying, they forget it’s a lie.  That is their CHOICE. I get to make choices too, and I choose to think everyone is a liar.

Call me jaded, hurt, bitter, etc. I’m okay with that. Because I’m right.

As of right now, I can count the people in my Circle of Trust on 2 hands, and one foot. I’m over giving people an elevated position in my life, and they aren’t living up to it.  Instead of calling them and whining about it, I just made the cut. So That Happened.

*Trust no one who hasn’t earned your trust.
*You only know what people allow you to know.
*Judge yourself by your standards only.
Thank God for granting me this moment of clarity.

Thanks For Reading!

SideChicks: Picking up the Pieces when you stop doing YOUR job . . .

*Editor’s Note: This Blog is going to piss you off.  Just stop reading now.  If you keep reading, it’s your own fault if you feel some kind of way at the end.  I’m not even writing this to piss you off.  I’m writing it to tell MY understanding of SideChick Subculture. It’s better you read you this now, than get a SideChick Declaration of Ownership text message someday.  I’m just trying to help.*

Four Years ago, I wrote about my own experiences as a Side Chick. It’s a good read before you view the rest of this, as my attitude as been altered a little bit by life. Please understand this . . . I’m over SideChick Slander.  Not because I take it personally, but because it’s dumb.  We Slut Shame the SideChick but hail the man as a Pimp/Player/Boss/SexGod. With all the SideChicks who seem to be PROSPERING right now, I think it’s time to look at why.  But First, a Mini-Rant about #BlackTwitter and Scandal.

Scandal is one of the greatest written shows on TV right now.  And the Main Character is a Side Chick. The Presidential Side Chick! She has a job, friends, and a life.  She just happened to fall in love with the soon to be elected Leader of the Free World.  But according to #BlackTwitter, we have to hate her based SOLELY on her SideChick status.  Supposedly, she is breaking up a home, and ruining lives.  Which is a GOT DAMN LIE! Fitz don’t Love Mellie.  He ain’t neeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeva gonna love Mellie.  But every Thursday, my TL is full of people (mainly men) bashing women for caring about Olivia’s emotions and thoughts.  For sympathizing with her in her daily struggle to let that Presidential Love go.  STOP IT! They will deal with the consequences of their relationship and be judged by whatever Higher Power their characters worship.  

Back to my original point . . . either I attract the shadiest females/males known to man into my circle, or y’all are some delusional ass people. SideChicks STAY winning.  Stop lying to everyone else on your timeline, and maybe even to yourself.  People cheat every damn day.  SideChicks become Step-Mothers every damn day.  Married Men step out of their house into the arms of another woman every damn day. And they gives not a FUCK about anyone’s feelings.

I’ve never hidden the fact I played that role once or twice in my life.  It wasn’t always on purpose, but it is a title I have held.  What I have hidden, and for good reason, is the amount of times I’ve chosen NOT to play that role.  I’ve been ASKED to be the SideChick more times than I would actually like to count. (7) For every person I’ve turned down, I’ve been asked again.  I’ve been propositioned by people I see on a regular basis, and their significant others have no damn clue. Ya’ll are living in a fantasy world where your man/woman is the most faithful person in the world.  Stop Lying to yourself. I’ll Help You.

1) Why Did I Get Married?

That’s not just a Tyler Perry Movie.  That’s a question you need to ask yourself.  If the answer to the question isn’t because I know this man/woman wants to look at my ashy ass every day, chances are someone in your relationship isn’t happy.  When you said I Do, did you listen to all the Vows? The Love Honor and Obey everyone hears.  Did you pay attention to that Honesty thing though.

A large portion of my male friends from High School/College are married or in serious relationships and have been for years.  Wanna know why 90% of them got married?  Because they felt like they had kept her waiting long enough. {Yeah, they admit that kind of stuff to me, probably because I’m the only person who actually asked.}  People get married for every reason under the sun other than Love.  Love ain’t got nothin’ to do with a better credit score, or a place to live, or them kids that need to be in daycare you can’t afford alone.  Men aren’t the only people who get married for all the wrong reasons. Women do it ALL the time.  The need for security, or at least the illusion of security is real out here in these streets.

This isn’t to say there aren’t any relationships based solely on the love and devotion of two people, but Keep It Real. People who go into a relationship with Rose Colored Glasses, will get those colored lenses broken. {This refers to having an unrealistic expectation of what Marriage/Committed Relationship are actually about}  It might take a few years, but one day you will wake up . . . and you won’t remember why you were in your relationship in the first place. When starting a relationship, we try to put our best foot forward.  Show the best image of ourselves.  We might even try to stay on the straight and narrow path, and ignore our previous patterns of behavior.  But if you are in a relationship with someone and have to hide any part of yourself, that person is NOT for you.  But you know who will accept all your flaws . . . The SideChick.

The SideChick doesn’t CARE that you were a heaux in college. {She might have been too} The SideChick doesn’t care that you have kinky sex fantasies.  The SideChick listens to you complain about your wife that never cooks, and quietly cooks you a meal.  The SideChick picks up her phone every time you call, and makes sure she is ready when you come over. The SideChick doesn’t ask you for money to get her hair done, and she doesn’t usually want anything but your attention.  The SideChick is everything your wife of 5+ years isn’t anymore.  THAT’S why The SideChick is still out here winning.  Because as long as your Wife/Girlfriend/Fiance/Baby Momma is off HER game, she will be on her’s.

2) But Can You Whistle

Place two women side by side.  They have the same exact educational background and general knowledge.  The are similar in build and facial structure.  One can Whistle, the other can not.  Most men will choose the Whistler, because she has a little something extra.  The SideChick is a Whistler.  Her ability to whistle isn’t the sole reason she is usually placed in the SideChick role, but it doesn’t hurt her in any way.  Men usually want to have the best of the best.  They want to have something no one else has –  be it a car, or a house, or a woman.  If the opportunity arises, the SideChick will whistle alllllll around your man if you let her. Examples of SideChick Whistling:

  • Ability to Orally please your man (If you won’t do it, he will find someone who will)
  • Similar opinions regarding sexual freedom (If he can TALK to her about doing it, he will do it with her)
  • Her culinary prowess is unmatched (The quickest way to a man’s heart is the lower half of his body. . . )
  • Silence is Golden (What Happens in Vegas Stays in Vegas)

In this brave new world of Female Sexual Freedom, Whistler’s are EVERYWHERE. The way to deal with this SideChick influx is to FIGHT BACK! Learn a new skill.  Find out who your man is, BEFORE he tells you while he’s over the SideChicks crib.  Talk to your man about his needs. If they don’t fit you, then move on.  But if you are adaptable, adapt.  Cuz SideChicks are the most pliable, malleable, adaptable individuals on God’s Green Earth.

3) Game Recognize Game (Social Networking)

Facebook Messenger and Twitter DM have ruined a MYRIAD of relationship.  I watch it happen everyday.  Guy says something sexual. Girl comments/retweets. Witty TL Banter ensues . . . then they both disappear from the TL/Newsfeed.  It. Has. Begun.  The SideChick will NEVER blatantly approach your man. He will make the first move. The minute he drops those 10 digits (Remember when saying 7 digits was sufficient) and they have that initial, ‘You know I been feeling you, but you got a girl tho . . .‘ conversation, the SideChick has won.

If we have learned nothing else from Kwame, Carlos Danger, Dwyane, and Swizz . . . it’s that men will say ANYTHING to the woman who will listen.  A man will sit at work and text the SideChick all day long. Between meetings, on trips to the bathroom, doesn’t really matter.  He wants attention, and the SideChick is going to give it to him . . . Point. Blank. Period.

It’s also important to know . . . The seasoned SideChick isn’t trying to get caught.  She knows it’s much more stress to have to fight a woman in the street about her man than be a Freak in his Bed.  The seasoned SideChick has an app on her phone that hides messages from certain people, and tells your man about it.  The seasoned SideChick actually has a Google Voice number so that your man doesn’t know her number.  What people fail to understand is that some people choose SideChickery {read: The Act of SideChicking} as their main source of relational interaction.  The reasons behind this are actually irrelevant.  This is a lifestyle, NOT a pastime.

4) Why are you Caping for SideChicks and not calling out men?

If you’ve gotten this far in my blog, and think I’m caping for SideChicks, then you have missed the point.  I’m not making excuses, I’m explaining common behavioral patterns.  I’m trying to put all women up on the game.  Lack of Knowledge = Failure to Succeed.  You might have been raised to be a certain kind of person, and your Man/Husband/Fiance/Baby’s Father might have been raised to seek out and marry that EXACT type of person.  That doesn’t mean people’s needs can’t change and the eye can’t wander.  The Cheating Man is an asshole. So is the SideChick.  Most people are assholes though.

Even after my travels to the Land of SideChickery, I believe in Love.  I believe that Two People can come together, and create a lasting bond that satisfies all their needs.  I believe this because I had for a brief time myself.  I know people who live this kind of life everyday.  Millions of men are tempted to cheat every day, and DON’T. The kind of relationships I’ve just described were achieved by honesty and communication.  If a man can’t be honest and communicate {without fear of judgement} with his mate, he will eventually attempt to find someone who affords him that option. The same can be said for women.  I really just thought someone should share their intimate knowledge of the SideChick Subculture with the masses.

Thoughts?

I’m Just Sayin’….

Just some shit I want to get off my chest. If it offends you, remember a hit dog hollers…

Issue #1: Weight Loss —-> Hateration (in this dancerie)

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If you know me at all you know how much of a struggle losing this weight has been. This shit ain’t easy at all. But you would swear that with every pound I drop, and inch I lose I’m personally telling people to go fcuk themselves. I’ve heard everything from ‘You think you’re cute now huh?’ to ‘Ever since you lost weight You are cocky…’

Are you fcuking serious? Have you met me?!?! I mean like the real me. Hell, have you read a blog I’ve written. I’ve always thought I was cute. Not sexy or gorgeous but hell yeah I’m cute. And I think I’m so awesome I tell strangers. Its never been what I thought of myself. Always what others assumed about me based on my size, race, sex, physical appearance etc.

Let me just tell you, in case you still don’t get it. Bitch I’m Amazing. Cellulite, Sweat, Blood, and tears. I’m so got damn amazing its hard to not tattoo that shit on my wrist. Fcuk You if you think differently.

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Issue #2: I like you but…

Again, I’ve been saying for years that most of the men that approach me don’t do it out of fat girl pity. I don’t even get approached by chubby chasers. Its everyday dudes that see something about me they like. Sadly, it frequently seems to be men who are already in relationships. In the past, this didn’t bother me… Simply because I believe if you don’t take care of what’s yours, he will find someone who does.

But after my brief experiment with Love, I’m noticing that they aren’t even unhappy men. They aren’t planning on leaving their home, they just want me too.  What in the hell?!?! Did I accidently put, ‘Used to be a Side Chick’ on my shirt. I don’t remember that, but I guess. At some point it goes from flattering to insulting. Like for real, its something that happens so frequently these days I’m starting to try to figure out what I’m doing to attract these people.

It could be Karma or as one friend suggests, a Godly test to see if I am indeed ready for a stable relationship. Either way, its getting on my got damn nerves. Because Operation Get MJW Wifed Up by 2014 is so real. Being single is not what’s hot in the streets right now. At all! A chick got bills all up in though here.

So for real, fcuk you if you already have someone and want me to take your sloppy seconds. If you aren’t ready to enter into a partnership with me that includes keys to vehicles and names on bank accounts you can get to stepping. I’m 30 years old and I don’t have time for all that bullshit.

Issue #3: Poverty vs. Laziness

I got into an argument with my father about a month ago. He tried to tell me that the reason I never have money is because I don’t know how to budget my money. My response, I don’t have money to budget.  Its not hyperbole to say I’m so underpaid I am almost physically ill when I get a paycheck. But at least I have a job.
I work 40 hours a week, and that’s not enough to pay all my bills. But the Hustle is strong within me, and my mother taught me to take care of myself. So I make due. I babysit on the weeknds and usually twice or more during the week. I make my own lunch most days and I cook dinner instead of eating out.  That leaves no money for extras but at 30 I don’t need that much.

But some people seem to think I’m lazy. How? You never see me cuz every time you call I’m busy. I have lost 6 sizes since March. I NEVER stop moving, and not by choice. So again, fcuk you if you’re mad at ME, cuz I hustle when I have to. I have a feeling someone will read this and assume I just cursed my father. I didn’t.

I have more to say. Maybe when I get another 36mins on this exercise bike.

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