zomg i’m single!

so the fuck what?

this is all the discussion y’all are getting out of me. thanks to this piece from the crunk feminist collective, i don’t have to go too deep.  i’m including links from a twitter rant i went on regarding this very subject, for good measure.

first, i wanted to know if anyone had introduced to this larger conversation the idea that monogamy is not the default setting for our lives, but a choice.   as in, we choose to be monogamous, or we don’t.  & if you don’t realize that you choose monogamy, this is where you should find another blog post of mine to read (like the one about tina knowles).   we do not have to couple.  some of us are polyamorous, some of us never partner — even when we decide that we wish to parent.

nobody that i know of, with the exception of the ladies at crunk feminist collective, has mentioned that queer (by queer i mean lesbians, bisexual, pan/ omnisexual, trans, intersex)  self-identified black women aren’t considered in this conversation. again: we are not a monolith. you can’t have this conversation without considering the fact that the women being discussed are hetero, cisgender (not trans women — trans ppl are invisible in virtually every conversation about marriage, and just about everything else), & at the very least hold bachelor’s degrees. because ppl who don’t finish college don’t matter in this conversation, no matter what they’re doing w/ themselves, unless it’s to count them as undesirables.  further, who’s to say that marriage is everyone’s goal or ideal? it could be argued that “we aren’t talking about those people,” but if that’s the case then it must be stated so from the onset of each conversation regarding unmarried black women of certain income levels and sexual orientations.  period. know your audience.

if the root of the “problem” of unmarried black hetero cis women is that there aren’t enough desirable black men to go around & we’re looking at that strictly in terms of education, then who’s to blame? parents? schools? both? neither? high school dropout rates are nothing to sneeze at. the prison industrial complex, fueled by some rather draconian laws, also removes men who might otherwise be “good catches” from the dating pool.  does this mean that some of those “lost ones” were never marriageable to begin with, as their parents/ support systems failed them long before they got outta high school? okay. i’ll take that. but that isn’t the case w/ everyone. i feel like too much of this conversation is based on simplistic ideas of what a “good black man” is, and what a “good black woman” needs.  also: folks get married later in general, because they’re doing more than their parents’ generations did w/ their lives. the need for a college education has increased — even to get administrative assistant gigs. so if we have to take more time between high school and college to fill up these lives of ours (with greater expectancies, even for black men & women), maybe it’s not even as deep as the media panic suggests. ::gasp:: maybe we’re doing so much that holding ourselves to standards based on folks who lived life differently (slower, w/ less autonomy as children/ young adults, w/ different or less education) is a waste of fucking time! i’m just sayin.

& really, if marrying someone is about loving them until your last breath exits your body, can we consider one thing: the purported crisis of unmarried black women suggests that there is not enough love for us. that we are not lovable. that there is scarcity in the black community, so we must either take what we can get from black men or marry white men if we want to be married at all. this is wrong. love is infinite. there is no reason to think, for one minute, that any one of us is not lovable. that we are not desirable — to anyone, whether they be white, asian, latino, man, woman, gender non-conforming, cisgender, transgender, disabled, blue collar, white collar, no collar, or anything fucking else. if we marry because we want to spend the rest of our lives surrounded by the love, care, and support of another person then why on earth would we let fear run us off our paths? no, i’m not saying that there aren’t rough patches. heaven knows that i’ve lived through my shit and may continue to go through things before i find a good lover (i don’t necessarily seek to marry). but under no circumstances is being single a detriment. it’s never wrong. it’s not a bad thing. we’re not born partnered. we choose to partner — some of us because of conditioning, some of us because we find that wonderful person to be with. & it’s all good. it’s about intent, y’all. if your intent for seeking a mate is because that shit is on your checklist of successful shit to do w/ your life, you might be setting yourself up for what we call the okey-doke.   ultimately, the lens through which our romantic situations are being examined is flawed, to say the least.   & to say the most: it’s fucked up, limited, & doesn’t actually apply to as many folks as these “experts” (like finesse “my best jokes are about my teen mother” mitchell, jimi izrael & steve harvey) would have you believe.

this rant’s over. i’m dropping the mic like randy watson. but if you wanna read more juicy commentary:

visit the sugar shack

read this op-ed via the philadelphia inquirer

& another dope post from the crunk feminist collective

this piece from the nation, featuring the words of the fabulous melissa harris-lacewell & courtney young is made of pure unadulterated win.

i’m off to go be single and cook for myself, feed myself, bathe myself, & sing my face off at karaoke. cuz that’s what manless almost-30-year-olds do, apparently.

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too caffeinated to sleep

& i don’t want to blog.
i feel like ppl are reading this blog who have no idea what it means (meant?) to me when i most need(ed) an outlet.
i feel like i’m censoring myself,
silencing myself so i don’t step on anyone’s hypersensitive, bitchmade, i’m-gonna-cry-wolf toes.
well.
that most certainly felt better than holding it in. there, i’ve said it: there are folks who subscribe to rss feeds of this very slice of interwebs who’d rather pick fights than love themselves
who’d rather assume the mantle of victimhood than fashion themselves into survivors
& who always think someone’s out to fucking get them simply by disagreeing w/ them. stupid, i know.
& even more stupid: i let that shit hold me back.
so.
gloves are off.
sensitive thugs, y’all all need hugs.
but don’t come the fuck over here with it.
yay, i made a cryptic blog post. fiqah, are you happy now? :-P it’s a post. it is. even if it’s only significant to ME. bit by bit, i’m coming back.

seven days in new york: observations.

here are a few observations i’ve made since i’ve made this city my new home:

– there are train routes that are solely ugly, solely short, and solely smelly. (i see you, D train!!! no eye candy at ALL.)
– people in this city really don’t go anywhere they don’t have to. this includes to other sides of their very own boroughs. i am slightly perplexed by this. (aka, if i move to bay ridge, don’t fucking complain about coming to see me. either do it or don’t. i’m not opposed to traveling.)
– the ‘neighborhood’ supermarkets, in most areas, are shit.
– if you speak a little spanish when you move here, you’ll leave here speaking a lot of spanish. win!
– too many kids are selling candy on the train to feed themselves. it stings a little.
– there are too many train stations without elevators and escalators. too many folks w/ strollers are navigating these stairs alone, w/ impatient & inconsiderate assholes rushing them down the stairs. no bueno.
– the 4 train, once you hit the bx, is WAY FAR ABOVE GROUND. geez.
– there’s more to life than brooklyn. you can’t tell the brooklynites that, though.

i’ll be missing philly in approximately 6 weeks when i have a cheesesteak craving at noon on a saturday and realize that i’d have to make a 3 hour trip just to get one. oy.

before you go getting all tight . . .

know this:

my home internet service has been canceled due to lack of funds.

my laptop is sometimey. you remember having that ol janky wall-unit phone in your house (mine was in the kitchen) that would shut off if you moved too far in any direction? well, that’s what goes on with my laptop. the cord just isn’t stable. so, combine my need for internet with my laptop’s apparent jankiness and you have a bit of a mess. oh, well.

i’m not really in a writing mood. i’m in a doing mood. so i’ve been doing stuff. i will update this blog in a real way sooner or later.

in the meantime, i’m workin on some special projects and will be back from my summer blog vacation soon.

a vent. yes, another one.

fuck off, i don’t have to consider anyone but myself (and by extension my landlord, the ppl who guarantee that i get paid, the utility companies, and on occasion my mother) in everything i do

stop asking me the same question repeatedly. it makes you look stupid and makes me see red. your ineptitude astounds me.

just because i said i’m not fucking anyone as of late doesn’t mean i’m gonna jump on the first thing moving. that’s lame. it’s called a desperation fuck, or on that receiving person’s end, a pity fuck. that’s not okay. i’m better than anyone’s pity.

stop that shit. now. leave it alone already. the dead horse can be pummeled but so much more.

it’s really not okay to keep asking me about poetry readings. i fuck with sunni patterson and nobody else. dig? chances are she isn’t what you want. love jones is a nearly fifteen-year-old film. quit already. shit.

i don’t like sitting in a hot ass seat on the train. the only thing i dislike more: having a hotass person sit practically on top of me when they take the seat next to mine on the train. ew. i become slightly homicidal.

your man is ugly. that’s why i’m staring.

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’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.

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