2014-08-21 09.00.36

It wasn’t like the other times.  It was different.  It wasn’t about how good you would feel inside of me or how much ecstasy I would experience from reaching orgasm.  It was much deeper than that.  When I looked at you, I saw a man who appreciated me, respected me, and though I was beautiful physically and mentally.  I didn’t realize how much I craved that because my heart was still behind that brick wall shrouded in darkness.  I terribly wanted to keep it there, but here you were.  I was cold and you were warm.  I no longer wanted to shiver so I moved closer to you, but the glow blinded me.  I ran straight into the sun and burned.

You told me you wanted to take care of me and protect me.  It was like sweet music in my ears.  A few times I even told you I was getting too close to the sun but it seemed like you just tried to shine even brighter.  You told me I was your drug, that you were intoxicated by me.  You told me you needed me.  And as time passed you upgraded me from your drug to your medicine and just like all medicines, the prescription eventually runs out.

The calls got few and far between.  Your words became harsh, mean, uncaring.  I felt like an after-thought in your life.  A burden, but still useful to you.  I became a catcher’s mitt for your pain, your insecurities, your problems, and your selfish desires.  No longer were there sweet words or wonders at my beauty.  I became a barrier in your life.  Just something making you feel guilty about the thoughts you were having about fucking someone else.  I want to be free you tell me.  I release you and you say my love wasn’t true because I decided to do what you wouldn’t and love myself.  I am selfish for protecting myself from your hurt.  Sounds like bullshit to me….but I digress.

Bitch Bashing


Yeah, so if you haven’t figured it out by now.  I love a jarring title.  I have a rant about negative comments about black men and women ranting about each other and how they are quick to run to other cultures who want to point out our “shortcomings” too. So I was on Facebook and one of my friends posted a video of an Indian man bashing black women.  Several men chimed in on the bashing.  I am sitting here thinking, what can this Indian possible know about enough black women that he can make such a generalizing video?  I am a black woman and I can’t even do that in a way that would be absolutely correct.  However, it had me thinking about cultural differences that indeed make us different from other women. Yes we can be bitches sometimes, but you really could lay off.

The huge difference with black women is that we don’t have advocates and for every ratchet woman, there is an equally ratchet man that will fuck her and praise her for having a fat ass. Women from other cultures are held at high esteem, valued, and respected as wives, mothers, and sisters for the most part. Good black women with feminine, submissive natures are not valued. We tend to not feel appreciated for our gentle nature, intelligence, modesty, and vulnerability. So most, in a vain attempt to gain favor with the many men who call women baby and ho in the same sentence, can show her attention.

Women want attention even more than they want respect and men want respect much more than they want attention. Having hos gets them respect from men and attention from women. Because black women are overwhelming interested in dating other black men and the disdain that black men show to the world makes her less attractive to men from other cultures. This behavior is a byproduct of men showing women that they are attracted to. I don’t understand why we bash each other when we learn from each other what the other one wants. Because I am nice, submissive, not a bitch, and not willing to club hop while bending over for 4 hours waiving a fat ass in the air, my dating pool is much smaller than a woman who will. Next time a black man or black woman bash each other, they should think about how they personally contribute to that behavior.

When I was younger, I too was a victim of being attracted to bad boys because that is what the media and society was brainwashing me into believing I should be attracted too.  In movies, black love is often shown to be tumultuous, violent, unfaithful, and over-sexed.  The only time black men and women get along on TV and movies is when they are fucking.  We rarely see true, deep, and passionate love between black men and women; only good sex.  That is why it is so easy for our bodies to be sexualized. It is why we are often blamed for our own rapes. Why even though teen pregnancy is declining  in the black community but rising in the white community, and single parenthood is just as prevalent in blacks and whites, we are still looked at as hyper sexed.   Men are victims of the images too.  They see the men with multiple women, women who often have nothing going for them except good looks who are largely attracted to men based on looks, money, power, and success.  Since most men do not have the means to reach the kind of success that is mostly shown to blacks; rappers, sport players, and movie stars; that leaves mostly the hood stars.  The drug dealers with money, the gang members with power, and the successful men who are either too busy to date, already taken, still chasing hoes, or prefer a status symbol over genuine love.

The men and women that speak the loudest are heard.  We women hear that our value and treatment depends on our level of physical attractiveness in a world where our skin and hair is not considered the most beautiful.  We hear that only a woman with this size breast, waist, and ass is worthy of admiration.  When our young girls hear their favorite rapper say they are worthless if they don’t have a fat ass and would look better if they had lighter skin.  Love songs are now fuck songs.  We live in a world when men largely ignore you if you are conservative in bed or refuse to perform oral sex and call you a ho for laying in the bed he invited you to.  We live in a world where our men are told they are not allowed to show any emotions except anger but are expected to survive in a society in which the one emotion they are left intact with can get them killed or imprisoned, often wrongfully.  We live in a world where women claim to want a good man but will crawl through the depths of hell to be with a man only because he makes her squirt or buys her things in exchange for pussy.  They sneak around on their boyfriends and husbands to fuck you because the one they are with is providing a more desirable service of security, housing, finances, and father figure to her children but can’t make her legs shake or throw her over the back of the couch and fuck her like Tyrone with no job and a lengthy criminal record does.

We are all in this together though the tides tip more in favor of black men because at lease he has overwhelming support from black women that she often lack from her brothers and other men as well.  We are each other’s greatest advocate, or supposed to be.  It breaks my heart that the only connection we seem to be maintaining is between our private parts.

Big Ass Pass


I don’t have a fat ass but it looks pretty dayum juicy when I bend over.  But this is not about my ass; this is about the round, juicy, gravity defying ass that have a straight girl like me pointing it out to her guy like “Dayum bae! Look at HER ass!”  Let’s face it.  Everyone likes a fat ass, but some of you brothers are taking it too dang far in what I like to call the Fat Ass Pass.

For the most part, men are willing to jump through hoops, perform favors, and foreign gentleman behavior for women based on her perceived attractiveness.  I have seen the same man take a light weight bag and carry it for a woman while he merely held the door open for a co-worker carrying heavy boxes.  I def gave him the “look at this negro gaze”.  He dropped his head in shame but he’s not the only one.

A lot of you give women a Fat Ass Pass.  You will allow her to lie, cheat, steal, kill, and still be memorized by that ass.  I can’t count the number of times I have heard men say they want a woman who is loyal, faithful, clean, trustworthy, but will put up with the vilest creature on earth for a big ass and a smile.  We normal ass women have a million “look at this negro” gazes for you.

At what point does a man began to assess a woman’s worth after her physical attractiveness?  For the average woman on the outside looking in, the Fat Ass Pass will have a man homeless, broke, and bitter before he decides that the Fat Ass Pass has to be revoked.  My guess is that a woman’s reverse of the Fat Ass Pass is the Big Dick Ticket.

Diamond Out of Concrete


When you are a woman with health issues, love becomes just another stress in your life.  Men are visual creatures and imperfections lessens a woman’s beauty.  We get judged from hair to feet including the color of the skin we are wrapped in.  So many physical things can stop a man from trying to even just know you.  Stretch marks, a belly, flat ass, big waist, a wide back, moles, not so smooth skin, cellulite, scars….  Having an autoimmune disorder is like having a scar on the inside.  Actually, more of a wound that doesn’t heal.  It doesn’t just affect your body, it affects your mind too.  It makes you feel weak, worthless, and worn out.  For a man to love you through that is a beautiful thing indeed.

You see, a man that is willing to love a woman with health issues is the real hero here, the real warrior.  He has to be strength for two.  He does things that other men would only do for their mothers.  He is a protector and provider tenfold.  He is a man of patience, understanding, maturity, and compassion.  To the ladies who have that, a man to love you through all your flaws and even the mountain that health issues can be in your life; issues that even questions the love you have for yourself; a man that love you with all the normal imperfections that women have plus your health issues…. Cherish him.  Love him.  Be totally grateful and appreciative of him, because you mined a diamond out of concrete….

I Wanna Be Her…


I wanna be her.

That chick you can’t get enough of. Laughing with you, crying with you, passenger seat side kick.  The one you think about waking up and going to sleep.  Bounce your ideas off me.  Taking the stress of being a black man off of your shoulders when you walk in the door.  I wanna be that warm embrace, that sweet smell.  Let me take care of you while you take care of us.  Let me have your back, holding you up like a kickstand when the world trying to knock you down.  Me and you against the world.  We are super heros. Fighting the bullshit. Not each other….  But when we fight… we get stronger, love deeper, and fuck harder.

I wanna be her.

Smell me on your clothes when you are at work.  Home cooked meals and sleeping on fresh sheets.  Massages while you are resting and getting your dick sucked on the way to sleep.  A sweet smile shining through the darkness. A soft place to land.  A cool breeze on a hot day.  Make you feel like work is play.  Anticipating my pussy like a holiday cause its yours…you own it. Paid in full, stamped, title in your hand if you just ask…

Cause I wanna be her….if you let me…

I Think I Fucked Up


How awesome of me to have pissed off the one person that I talk to about every thing and who actually gives a dayum about me.  I hate talking to someone I care about when someone else has done something to piss me off because it will seem like I am mad at them and not the previous situation.  I am not good at hiding my feelings.  He called me and gave me some great advice about how to improve my health.  We had been talking about it for a while and I am excited to get my health back on track.  Because I was feeling frustrated about some of the things my mother and grandmother said to me earlier he detected the frustration in my voice even though I was genuinely grateful that he is so invested in helping me get my health on track.  He asked why did my voice sound like that and I told him that I was just feeling frustrated about some things that had been said to me and what he was saying kind of fell in line but his intentions were different.  I couldn’t explain fully how I was feeling because when I get that frustrated and don’t get a chance to process my emotions, my communication skills leave something to be desired.


I swear sometimes people don’t understand how stressful and mentally fucked up a person can be when they feel helpless about their situation.  I was born with this disorder and I feel like some people come at me like I did this to myself.  I never have any fucking energy.  I wake up feeling like shit most of the time.  I have moments of strength but sometimes I get very, very weak.  I feel like I am useless at times and hearing someone say that I sit back and wait on the government to take care of me was like a shot to the brain.  I didn’t choose to be sick.  It’s not my fault.  I lost everything behind this fucking disorder.  There is no telling where I would be if I never got sick and to hear me get reduced to a government dependent hurt me to my core.  I shut down at that point and started talking to him crazy as hell.  Huge mistake and I am sorry as hell. 


I don’t know if he will every talk to me again.  He rushed off the phone and won’t answer my text messages.  Honestly, I am kinda used to being abandoned now and that’s kinda sad.  It hurts and that’s okay too.  Pain is safe because I know it so well.  It’s this love shit that has me feeling fucked up.  No pills for that…