Not all Girlz. Op-ed

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Ugh!

A few years ago out of nowhere it hit me that I was a feminist but not just the normal run of the mill feminist but a black feminist, one who cared about all women but black women especially and yes that is me, standing on a podium with a black leather glove on, with my fist in the air. See, I've come to learn how necessary it is to be a black feminist and how very important it is to proclaim it but before I try to get you to see why and how, I must tell you it's something that I believe I was born with and my realization, only happened because I couldn't take the BS anymore. 

What BS you may ask? Moving forward we're going to call the BS the bull hockey because the writer in me, feels some kind of way about continuously writing BS. -that was the last time- 

Yesterday I logged into Facebook for my usual creepy scan, birthday check ins, and article reading and on my timeline one magazine cover in particular, kept popping up. I vaguely recognized the faces on the cover, I'd have to be living under a rock if I didn't. It was four women, from three or four-I can't even keep count anymore-popular shows (unfortunately in my personal opinion) scantily clad (i sound like my mother) looking seducing. I took no offense to this because as I said earlier, I'm a feminist and my beliefs state that I am supportive of women, I love women and though some women may not always make the same decisions I would make it doesn't make them wrong or worse but it sure doesn't make them role models either!

By now you probably guessed that I'm talking about the recent Vibe cover - if you haven't, I am- which could have been, the cover of Maxim, the cover of right on! or the cover of one of those many booty magazines, except for the caption "our new role models". 

This is the type of bull hockey that bought out the black feminist. Years ago if you can remember the black woman was discovered and brought out into the forefront. All the news stories about how successful and lonely we were led to dating shows, which in my mind led to the new plethora of mindless shows, with forty year olds, acting like thirteen year olds and the black feminist in me doesn't "hate" at all - I only hate privately every chance I get- but even the black feminist can't idly sit by and let this happen!

Role Models? I gave Vibe the benefit of the doubt, I just assumed that the editor forgot the question mark. If there were a question mark, It would have sparked a conversation about how this came to be? How is it "the media" is putting a particular type of black women in the light and that particular type keeps multiplying and why is it though I hear the many objections about these shows, the shows are doing crazy numbers, which in turn creates more of these images. But by now a day later and after a through search of my timeline on Twitter and Facebook, it's more than obvious that a question mark was never intended for that article.

The black feminist in me says, let it be, these women are entrepreneurs, their providing opportunities for other women -I think- they're getting their Lisa Raye on and flipping it on the media and flipping the bird to all those archaic women on the other side hating, which is cool. But here's, what's not cool; flipping the bird to the girls. The girls who are not yet women, the girls who are starting to think Louboutins and huge ugly bags are accomplishments in life and it's perfectly ok to wrestle your friends if you guys don't agree on a point. And the argument can be made that it's all what's given in the home and one's upbringing and if you don't expose your children to this and talk to them they will not succumb to these mind numbing examples and then there's that cover : "OUR new role models" it seems we've all fallen prey, I can't imagine what the kids are thinking…

Not all Girlz. Don't know.

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Growing up I thought I knew everything there was to know about love, without ever remembering having been taught. I didn’t want to except that all men cheat! I didn’t want to have to almost take a bullet or put money in some guys’ commissary to know its love. I lived somewhere in between Bronx Tale and Poetic Justice and developed a love all on my own.  But how can I know my love is true if no one ever taught me? But for a minute let us forget about the big L word and focus on the nuisances of love, what leads to love, the like process, the shacking up (if you choose to), how to make love, how to know that the love you’re making is good, in other words, I was taught the ills, the pitfalls, the trickery that can come with love but as far as my momma was concerned, we didn’t need to talk about the good stuff or the many confusing things.

I don’t blame my mom, I love her dearly and in all honesty I don’t think she could’ve taught me because like myself I don’t believe she was ever taught but why not? Most things in life I’ve learned; language, speech, applying makeup, mathematics but for some reason we think love and a like is a given.

A few months ago I decided to give my boyfriend a key to my place. This took months of scrutiny, though he was only getting the bottom lock; a conversation with my older sister had to happen, nights of anxiety transpired and still I felt uneasy about it. It wasn’t one of those, my intuition is telling me something bad but more so, how do I go about it? What does this mean for our relationship? And now that we’re practically living together –something I’ve never done before- how do I (semi) live with a man? Do I wake up with make-up on, a la Whitley on a Different world? Which bills does he pay? -He’s offered to pay whichever bill I decide but which do I decide? -  Do I let him pay any bills at all? These may seem like questions someone younger than myself (flirty thirty) would be asking but I’ve never been in love, like this before.

Love like this, is a complete love, living, working, growing and making a life with another person. But all of the aforementioned things aren’t as simple as saying I’m going to do what I feel? Yes, in the long run what I choose to do is my decision but I can’t help but feel, I would be better prepared if I had been given some homework on love and done it.  Matters of the heart are definitely something you feel but why blindly deal with the byproducts of these matters as if they too are feelings? In laments terms I feel love but I need some schooling on living together, when not to argue, how to deal with the roles we play in our relationship etc. 

Look I'm not looking for anyone to point the finger at and though I said I would like an equation, I'd rather not - I hate math- but I must admit the older I get (the more I realize you childrens don't know what the fuck you're doing) playing these love games, the more unprepared I realize I am for them. But I'll keep playing without the rules but if you have kiddies, I think you should tell them about the things that go bump in the night and don't forget to tell them what to do when the bump feels good, because that matters too!

Not all Girlz. Op-ed

When I was seventeen I was never scared, I hung out with who I wanted, went where I wanted and tried to keep up what I thought was being cool, without breaking my moms major rules-no drugging, no babies-. I wanted so many things at that age but more than anything I wanted to be done with high school and give those fools something to envy at the reunion. When I was seventeen I thought I knew everything there was to know about life.

When I was seventeen, with my surroundings, with everything I had read, having no white friends and not necessarily being exposed to how "the other half" was living, I was still very naive about this world. In my mind anything I wanted to do was possible, I didn't see money as being an obstacle, I didn't see my lack of connections being an issue, I didn't factor in where I came from and believe it or not my blackness was the absolute last thing on my mind, that was 1999.

 I'm happy I held on to a "better" image of this country and those that reside on it at seventeen. For a second I want to imagine that Trayvon Martin was just like me at seventeen, walking from a 7/11  and some dude was creeping up on me in the dark. I would have been scared but would have asked myself "what's the worse that could happen?" I would've asked this person, why he was following me. I probably would have hurled a couple of curse words his way but once I found myself being attacked, like Trayvon Martin, I would have called out for help... I would have never imagined that my life would end there. 

My life, my naive seventeen year old life would have been snuffed out and I would have no idea why. Yes, in the aftermath we can speak of profiling and racism, whether or not, you want to admit, this is about color. But Trayvon Martin didn't know that, Trayvon Martin had done nothing wrong, this man was not an officer but a dude creeping up on him in the dark. Confused, pinned down, in the dark with candy and a drink, headed home and my screams for help aren't being heard and then....

I don't know what to say about Trayvon Martin and believe me I've given it a lot of thought. I cry about it, I've had moments of uncontrollable anger, it's made me look at my "other friends" very differently, it makes me look at this country differently, which means though I feel I'm not that naive seventeen year old girl, it's obvious that she was still in there somewhere and now, she's dead.

Trayvon Martin was murdered that night but for your sake and mine, I hope Trayvon didn't see or understand what was really happening, the way we are getting an understanding now.

For my Nephews.