old flames: a colored girl retrospective.

i’m not gonna go in order, or even name (government) names. i was reading omi’s post of a similar ilk & i was struck by how easily i’ve been imprinted by the relationships i’ve had. i suppose that’s because i was open, to begin with. there was never a moment when i regretted any of it. . . but i have definitely found myself questioning whether i’d ever find myself undone by the same conditions, if i would be stubborn enough to ignore lessons and major indicators that the shit just might not be a good idea. after all that, i’m glad i can say no. i’ve learned a lot in those relationships and in between them. enough to know that i don’t care to be bothered with the bullshit, enough to know that reciprocity isn’t a dream . . . enough to know that i’m never gonna be that woman again.

so, bit by bit i’m gonna be writing my memories. i don’t know if i’ll be able to find songs to adequately describe the walking disaster that was the rapper, or the overwhelming love i felt when dealing with the runner. i just know that the sooner i put it all out, the better equipped i am to take the hand of the next one and lead him into my apartment . . . to sit on my sofa . . . and watch the 2nd season of america’s best dance crew while we eat coconut rice and compare tattoos.

confession saturday:

– i ate like a half lb of cheese the other day btwn some cabot extra sharp vermont white for brunch and 2 slices of sexy pizza. i loved every second of it. casein is addictive.

– in my mind, i fathom the reaction at my job to my resignation next year.

– i love listening to ‘weird’ music at work. it pisses TKON off.

– i’m opposed to observing my food allergies most of the time, but i hate feeling sick more than anything else so i usually stay on top of my shit.

– i sometimes hate how gregarious i am, especially when ppl i almost never talk to ask me for help.

– i freak out on the regular when my sister calls me, because she always sounds so distressed. i fear that one day she’s gonna tell me something really bad.

– i still wish i lived with my family sometimes. living alone, no matter how small or large the apartment can be lonely from time to time.

– i used to try to get fired from my day job so i could collect unemployment and go back to school. now i’m waiting for layoffs so i can volunteer.

– i want my mom to live forever.

– i’m glad my father doesn’t try to talk to us anymore. i’m the only one who’d ever let him really hear what he needs to, and i don’t think it’s anything that should ever actually come out of my mouth.

– as much of a snob as i am, i’m the first one to call someone a snooty bitch.

– i get uptight when black owned businesses shut down and white owned ones replace them.

– moving to west philly is the only thing that kept me from running away to new york

– i’m scared to death to be in a serious relationship right now.

– conversely, all i want is someone to be cuddled up with

– i’m trying to fight back against the depression that consumed me for 3 years. it feels nearly impossible some days.

– having ppl hang onto my every word is a power trip as much as it is nerve wracking.

– i still don’t understand why i’m supposed to be afraid of god.

i just spit my tea out

laughing at this foolywang mess right here. lol! if you know anything about me, you know there’s nothing more hilarious to me than wilford brimley’s diabetes supply commercials. & don’t forget the obligatory beyonce post.

this just made my night.

if you identify as pro-life

(link not for the squeamish at ALL)

if you call yourself against abortions
whatever you wanna call it
make sure you’re as mad about this mess as you are terminations of pregnancies.

and make sure you protest all the people who you think are involved or make it possible
be extra sure to show them pictures of what they’ve done wrong, too. okay? okay. thanks.

(link via darkdaughta)

what irks me the most about western religion

(christianity in particular)

is the idea that we (humans) do not deserve god’s favor. that we should be breaking our necks to ‘do the right thing’ and hope extra hard that it’s enough. i hate the idea that i could be doing everything i’ve been told to, and i could still manage to end up in hell just on the strength that i never deserved god’s favor in the first place. i never felt like that made sense, even as a little girl repeating gospel lyrics or sharing dogma with my classmates in christian school. deep down inside, i never ever ever believed that hell was real. i never understood — if we never deserved god’s favor in the first place, then why would god create humankind so we could scramble around trying to earn said undeserved favor? it made no sense to me, especially when there are constantly examples (fictionalized) of people who everyone thinks of as holy or as ‘good folk’ who end up in hell. i mean, when i was a kid we used to have a play every year at church called heaven or hell, where at the end we found out who got to see god’s face and who didn’t. at least once there was an upset, like someone who was the perfect portrait of holiness . . . but (as we’d be reminded at the time of her demise) played lottery with her tithe money. or something like that. something exaggerated and fucked up. leave it to the evangelicals to frighten you into salvation, right?

so i ignored that side of faith. the ‘please don’t smite me for the minor infractons, PLEASE’ side of it. it felt unnatural, like i wasn’t ever gonna win for all my attempts at holiness & righteousness. (i sense that this realization is that point at which most people become agnostics and/ or atheists, which i totally understand) and i knew i felt a presence (physically felt it) generated by the gathering of the faithful. i could not deny that feeling, that energy, that thread that seemed to tie me to complete strangers in that sanctuary. simply put, it was an overwhelming feeling of love. it’s the same feeling i get at a concert where everyone’s hype to see the performer(s) and the artist gives every bit of that energy back. it’s something that is very hard to explain, yet it’s unmistakable when you experience it. i always recognized that feeling as what people called the holy spirit, which in christianity is the energy/ force/ asé of the almighty.

so, if god can fill a room with her/ his presence, and can be witnessed by/ summoned by humans, how could we not deserve the favor of the very being which becomes most tangible/ palpable by our very doing? i never understood that. how could we not deserve love?

i suppose, though, that if you never really believed that god is love (all the time. that doesn’t change. the verse does not say “god is love on every third tuesday”) then you might see fit to proclaim yourself unworthy.

i never did. i never will. the very idea of it, to me, is preposterous. i don’t say this to suggest that ifá doesn’t encourage its practitioners to work at righteousness or maintaining good character. but, nowhere in any odu does it say anything to suggest that we’re just here to scramble and hope really hard that we make it to heaven. it’s where you go when you die. that’s it. when you take your last breath, your body remains here until decomposition and the part of you that came from orun goes back.

i actually don’t know how i ever could have fathomed anything else.

number 31 is my favorite.

tell me this isn’t pure freaking genius.

man, you playin.

you go from flirting with me, openly, in front of everyone with eyes
to saying cutesy shit on the phone & telling me how bad you want some face time
then you express a desire to get another ‘good hug’ from me
& after all that
you write me off via a weakly played round of phone tag
. . .

& never call me back when i let you know that there exists a rain date?

this annoyance has been simmering. the disappointment, not even the what-ifs, has kept this shit going for me
not because i thought we were meant to be
but because i hoped i’d at least get to know you
you didn’t even give me a chance.

don’t let me catch your black ass in the street, dude
actually, let me
so i can remind myself how little i needed to be bothered with in the first place.

: : : : : :

just because i’m not present, it doesn’t mean i don’t care.
sorry you feel that way. it’s simply not true.

i don’t do

special needs men.

that is, if you’re beyond the regular kind of crazy
if you’re slow to the point where context clues don’t help you figure out wtf i’m talking about
if you can’t imagine your life without fast food and/ or have a dependency on sugar
if you’re afraid to admit not knowing something
if you’re afraid to learn something
if you aren’t trying to improve your life beyond material assets
if you can’t fathom ever vacationing or moving away from the place where you live right now
if your idea of appropriate foodstuffs for a child includes soda or grape drink
if you think cable is a necessity
if you don’t know that the first CDs were certificates of deposit, not compact discs
if you think it’s abnormal to believe in someone not named jesus, allah, yaweh, jehovah, or god
if you have being rich confused with being wealthy
if you’re impressed by kanye but have no idea who j. dilla was/ is
if you think i’m tryna be someone other than myself because i aspire to be multilingual
if you think being on welfare is a permanent condition, and not a tool to improve the quality of one’s life
if you think r. kelly is good for anything other than shaking your head or being disappointed
if you have a tattoo on your neck, face, outer wrist, either hand, behind your ear, or on your forearm(s) and you do not have the skills to earn a decent living outside of a crappy, low-paying job
if you believe that it’s okay to have sex without protection and you believe children are merely a consequence of getting your dick wet
if your idea of a suitable marriage proposal is tied to the lyrics of jagged edge’s “let’s get married”
if you grew up in the suburbs but aspire to be “hood”
if you love city of god because it gave you ideas on how to be a bad dude
. . .

if any of the above characteristics applies to you, i qualify you as special needs.
and i especially need for you to stay away from me
cuz i can’t do it. your healing isn’t my job. i’m trying hard as shit to fix me.

thanks.

yes, dammit

i love this freaking video.

oh, boy.

here we motherfreakin go.

reading this article, a few things popped into my mind:
– maybe folks don’t talk enough about what to do when they don’t know what to do. i.e., the one woman’s situation where the doctor recommended that the mother receive an IV. i don’t know that i would have recommended that the woman go take a shower. i always understood being a doula as being present in assisting the mother in the birth she wants. if a client changes her mind mid-labor about being all natural, am i really in any kind of a position to give her static? i genuinely don’t think so. everyone’s anxious about safe passage for the child. everyone wants the mother to be okay and for it to be as easy a labor as possible. i’m not so keen on sending a woman to get a shower if she’s considering an IV.

– umm, of course a lactation consultant is pushing breast milk. it’s that person’s freaking job. if you don’t need consultation, the consultant doesn’t have a job anymore. however, lactation consultants are not MDs in most instances. this means that knowledge of a lack of hormone in the mother’s body is not something that ought to be laid upon the shoulders of the lactation consultant. i don’t think that a mother’s inability to produce breast milk is something for anyone except the mother to be upset about. really. i’m sure that such a thing is crushing to a woman who’s planned to breast feed. it’s really for her to deal with, along with the aid of her partner and whomever else is part of her support system. come the hell on. if i’m doing breastfeeding education with a client and it turns out that she’s incapable of producing milk, wtf kind of person am i (let alone doula) if i get uptight with her about using formula instead? really.

– the best part of the whole article is the quote from jessica sacher. parents absolutely have the same amount of due diligence as when choosing a pediatrician. it’s cool to be excited about going the natural birth route, and having a doula and/ or midwife. but fantasy and idealism kind of go out the window when you’re facing the choice between an epidural and suffering through what may be the most intense pain you’ve ever felt in your life.

this article made me think about someone’s caveat to me a few weeks ago: “make sure you know how to sell yourself as a doula. what makes you unique? why should someone hire you instead of a woman who’s an RN or a licensed massage therapist?” it turned my stomach that she turned it into a sale thing. for crying out loud, she works in the maternal & infant health field — has done so for more years than i’ve been on this damn planet — & instead of sharing resources with me, she fucking decides i need to sell my services as one might sell ass on a street corner. i’m glad i stopped listening to her ass halfway through the ‘advice session.’ i mean, of course i need to present myself the best way i possibly can. but also, i feel that an informed, positively minded parent or couple will choose someone who best fits their needs. it’s ridiculous for me to try to land clients the way jewelry salespeople fight for commission. there are more births out there than i could possibly handle. if i were in it for the clout i’d have gone ahead to get an MPH and be someone’s snot nosed hospital administrator.

also, i believe that prevention is the one thing that best combats situations where conflict occurs between doula and parent(s), between nurse and doula, etc.

i could be writing all night. i can’t afford to. feel free to carry on in the comments, people.

g’night!

until she puts it up on blogger

i’m sharing with you dear readers a declaration posted by miss oyin on behalf of the buckwild family (just as adorable as the care bears & their cousins, but way more serious). a declaration of war, of sorts, against the kingdom of niggadom. after an experience w/ two of TKON’s most fierce warriors — women i work with, both of whom espouse SO MUCH PRIDE in black folk/ blackness, i felt it necessary to remind myself why i don’t subscribe to that school of “thought.”

Me and some otha membas of the Buckwild family have been chit chattin. We been doin some sharing of stories and some truth tellin and just some general vibin about the stuff that niggas get into.

How they abuse

How they manipulate situations

How they hurt us and themselves

All for The Kingdom of Niggadom!

And how no matter how enlightened a brotha is

At the end of the day

Should he choose to do so

He can lay all that to the side and post up in The Kingdom of Niggadom (TKON)

TKON is a terrorist organization. It is, among other things:

Anti-Freedom

Anti-Woman

Anti-Bliss

Anti-Peace

Anti-Cooperation

Anti-Truth

Anti-Erotic

TKON endorses the wholesale rape and destruction of womanhood. And it offers us either a pornographic cardboard cut out OR a whitewashed passionless virginal caricature to replace that destroyed womanhood. Now this don’t mean that TKON is necessarily physically raping a woman, (tho TKON isn’t above that either) cause TKON can be very subtle in its ways and workings.

TKON will have you to believe that your main purpose in life as a woman is to bear children and be a helpmeet of a nigga. And should you not want to devote your life to bein a helpmeet then something is wrong witchu, or maybe you’re a lesbian or perhaps you done picked up a evil spirit from yo woman friends: “Whatchu mean you dont feel free??? You be sittin up letting them women you hang around wit fill yo head wit all kinda nonsense. You betta watcho self or you wont neva have no manTHEN whatchu gone do? It say in the Bible that a womans place is . . .”

One of TKON’s favorite threats is that you gone end up in Hell, or even worse…old and alone.

TKON will have you to believe that the abuse that it hands out is really somehow all YOUR fault because you are too free, or too pretty, or too nice, or you smile at men too much or you don’t clean house the way that it should be cleaned or on the day that it should be cleaned, or because you don’t worship God the correct way.

TKON doesnt necessarily hit or yell, TKON is highly skilled in the usage of painful snide remarks and public humiliation. TKON will also withhold affection to teach you a lesson/punish you for not acting in accordance with the bylaws of TKON. For example, you may not get kissed hello because the house ain’t as clean as its supposed to be even tho TKON will NOT clean anything or pick up anything because that is womans work.

TKON promotes listening to your boys before you listen to anything that your woman or your mama tries to tell you because all women want to do is get over on you anyway or tie you down. TKON is the origin of the rumor that “she got pregnant on purpose.”

TKON likes the THEORY of a relationship with a woman, but actual intimacy without manipulation of some sort is usually beyond the capabilities of TKON.

TKON ultimately believes that if you don’t agree with it, its because you don’t UNDERSTAND it,

Cause you ain’t deep enough,

You don’t fast enough,

You don’t read enough,

You don’t pray enough,

You don’t watch the right tv shows,

You watch tv,

You wear yo stomach out,

You be temptin’ men

You haven’t read freud or jung

You straight

You gay

You dress too flamboyantly

You don’t own enough white linen

Yo jeans too tight

You got a perm

Yo hair is too nappy

You have locs but you don’t talk to them

Yo diet has too many carbs

Yo diet don’t have enough wheatgrass

You don’t eat no meat

You be burnin’ all that incense

You don’t neva burn no incense

Etc. etc. etc.

When grievances are brought before the court of TKON

1. TKON ignores the entire case because listening and being transformed by what is heard is outside of the capabilities of TKON

2. TKON will flip the entire scenario and make the entire incident/issue out to be some fault of the plaintiff OR circumstances surrounding TKON, because of course TKON is flawless in EVERY way and obviously anyone who doesn’t agree is crazed or should be in therapy or on some kind of medication

3. In very special cases, when TKON has cut to complete craziness and stayed crazy for a long period of time, TKON will institute surface level changes that will cause the plaintiff to believe that he/she has been heard. This keeps TKON in its position of comfort and power, with minimal effort. Note: these changes have a shelf life of 3 days-6 months, however based on our field research, the most common length of time is 2 weeks.

Sistas who have fallen victim to TKON typically react in one of two ways:

1. The denounce TKON and say fuck it and they mean it and they spit on the foundations of TKON.

2. They try to prove to TKON that they are a different kind of woman and therefore worthy of the love, affection, and esteem that TKON has on reserve for that perfect woman/queen.

I am a category 1 up in this piece. I say FUCK IT!

I SPIT on the FOUNDATIONS of TKON

LET THAT SHIT CRUMBLE!!!

I will get me a sign and picket outside the gates of that muthafucka

I am SICK and goddammit TIRED of NIGGAS WINNIN

I am TIRED of NIGGAS not bein held accountable for their actions

I am tired of Niggasebein put up on pedestals cause we scared of how they gone act if we worship at our own shrine instead of theirs

FUCK that shit

I am shootin TKON in the stomach and blowin air in the hole

I am breakin TKON’s fingers and wigglin em til he pass out or die of a heartattack

I ain’t keepin TKON’s secrets NO MORE

On THIS day in MY NAME, by the power of my womb, the power that I use to create the life that I love, I withdraw my ASE from The Kingdom of Niggadom

I am exitin’ stage left and takin’ up residence in The Town of Women

And I got my yam pounder cocked and ready for any muthafucka who feelin squirrely

When the men are ready

we can move to a new place.

But from now until the time that the dust settles on the destruction

I will shake my red tailfeathers in the general direction of TKON

And I will chant that shit down like they be chantin down Babylon

Num Yo Ho, No Mo Niggas Winnin © Beauchamp de Leau & Sugarlee Buckwild

I cordially invite all like minded persons (women in particular) to chant that shit down WITH me.

***Babylonian Sidebar***

we need to find us another name for Babylon cause in ancient times the chief problem that folks had with Babylon was the freeness of the women so I’m actually a Babylon SUPPORTER.

in the name of all that is on point & wonderful in the universe, i wholeheartedly second, third, fourth, and umpteenth that. shit.

yay!

kathryn hall trujillo of the birthing project usa @ the black healers & midwives conference in phoenix last year:

yaaaaaaaaaay!

next stop:
full circle doula training with shafia monroe. :D

philly. all day, every day.

cassidy: i’m a hustla (note that he’s on the five-deuce doing his thing)

freeway + allen anthony: alright

dj jazzy jeff + peedi peedi: brand new funk 2k7 (north philly, stand UP.)

bahamadia: true honey buns

there’ll be another post like this soon. :D

i’m alive.

busy.
not spending nearly as much time writing as i’d like to, but sometimes you have to read some good shit in order to write some good shit.
i discovered a new band & pineapple upside down bread pudding.

now?

watching real sex, reading some good shit courtesy of mama gena & oyin
giving myself permission to open myself up to what has the potential to be a really fantastic time.

as the sun warms this portion of the world & as a result my cold bones, i see what’s on the horizon. it makes me smile.

& maybe i’ll learn to wine properly this summer.