So, today is May 5th. When I woke up this morning I had nothing more than thoughts of foolish acts and enough liqour to make me forget about what I did. But as my luck would have it…. it didnt turn out that way.
I was minding my own business on the Washington, D.C. subway/metro system when something outrageous occurred. I witness Americans discriminating against a Muslim woman who was merely seeking help to get to another metro station. She was no taller than about 5’5, 5’6 at the most, and between the ages of 48 to 54. She posted no threats whatsoever. When I tell you that I was soooo disgusted that I had to step in and do my part….. you cant even imagine what was going on in my soul. As a black woman it clicked, as an American I was ashamed, and as a human I felt compelled to do whatever I could. All of this just 2 days after the news broke that Osama bin Laden was killed.
I went to twitter and I posted the following status: “Dear Muslim woman dressed in full attire, I saw the looks we got on the metro as I helped you find Van Doren. I now understand.” Immediately upon writing that I wrote, “Pardon me….. I am inspired to write a poem.” And I did.
Work was not a concern of me at the moment. I took to my computer and wrote the following poem:
Muslim Angel
By: 2Deep the Poetess (www.2deepuncensored.wordpress.com)
May 5, 2011
Rush Hour
Dim light
The sound of the hustle and bustle of destined feet rush by
Head bobbing to the rhythm of modern complacency
Conformed to public transportation etiquette
Confined
Blending
Silenced
Until
Muslim angel,
Because such a thing exists,
Dressed in full, all white garb
Hijab edges outlined in sea-foam blue,
Magnifying her faith 10 times over,
Wonders towards me in a 5th attempt to gain assistance
Previous attempts brushed off by head turns
Flaps of Express newspapers in response to her
Popping like bullets of insults
As headlines of Osama’s demise dangle in her face
As if to say, “Look at what we can do to your kind, here inAmerica”
I saw this
In that moment, I was not proud to be an American
If this was, in fact, the way an American should act
I knew it was not her Farsi trained tongue exercising broken English
That made them ignore her requests
I understood her just fine
“Help me”, sprang from her lips
And translated to comprehension via my eyes
Before I even removed my headphones
I asked if she could repeat herself
“Good Morning”, she said
“Help me, please.
Van Doren.”
Without second thought I took the metro map out of her hand
Took her hand in my other and said, “Follow me.
I will take you.”
A gasp schoolyard bullied its way out of the throat of the Caucasian woman standing next to me
Eavesdropping getting the best of her
My original mission of getting to work on time escaping me
This was bigger than me
Something greater inside of me whispered
“Do not let go of her hand.”
And I obeyed
Seemingly safe within the metal cage
Transporting civilians into the breast of the Confederacy
Older Black woman sang disgust
Like a house nigger gawking
As if I was a field nigger threatening to bring mud into the big house
Exercising her Jim Crow
Removing herself from the front of the car, next to us, to sit elsewhere
Muslim Angel and I stuck out like sore thumbs
Comparison to Freedom Bus rides
We sat front seat at society’s counter
Demanding we be served respect
Express newspaper under my thigh
Feeling guilty for seeking out current events
For today I now knew
I was not proud to be an American
She was I and I was she
And here we sat
Traveling to a place where only one of us knew how to get to
Me to Van Doren
She to a place where she could brave the prejudice and still keep her chin high while seeking help
She needing to know what I knew and vice versa
Yet we sat in silence
Communicating through squeezed palms
Praying to one another for remaining true to who they were
And though she spoke Farsi and I English
We both managed, somehow, to speak human
And we continued to hold on to one another
“Next stop Van Doren”, rang over the intercom
Promised land for her and I
As I walked her out to the platform of her destination
Allah shook God’s hand
Hugged
And said many thanks
All the while I noticed we never said bye
Never shared names
Yet knowing we were sisters just the same
Understanding our coexistence in the midst of those who merely exist
I hope that you enjoyed the poem. I want to hear your thoughts on it. Your thoughts on the situation and anything else that you have to say. I pray that there are other people out there who think like I do and would have done the same thing.
Every day I go to the restroom I notice that in order to enter the restroom you have to pull the door open and in order to leave it you must push. Simple, right? Then why the need for a blog? Well, it has been slowly bothering me. Those same days that I go there are women who are 100% capable of reaching out for the door handle and pushing it who opt out to use the “Disability” automatic door opener button. Why?
I say why for several reasons when opening the door. The most obvious is that you are NOT disabled. Secondly, you already have germs from around the office, from the time you snuck and picked your but, the time you quickly picked yuor nose and ate it, etc already on your hand…..so would reaching for the door handle kill you? No, it wouldnt. Because in all actuallity you may wish to wash your hands before walking into a stall so that you do not place foreign germs in crevices of privacy. But judging from the nasty bitches who already dont wash their hands upon completion…. as mentioned in my Oh, So You Nasty Huh? blog….this is a far fetched option. But why has it become the norm for able persons to use the disabled buttons? I hate it when they do this at the mall just because they dont feel like opening the door and then it becomes shorted out or broken all together for the times that actual disabled persons really need it. Isnt this a sign of political incorrectness or the lack of sensitivity? Shouldnt we have some sensitvity training?
Now, upon exiting the restroom, should you be one of the 5 in th ebuilding who actually wash your hands….the door pushes out…..why use the disability button? When I leave, i use my foot at the base of the door and kick it open, or I do the hip lean into the door. But it has never dawned on me to use a disability button when I am capable and able to find other means to open the door.
I know that I may not be the only one who is bothered by this, but I just had to speak on it while I thought about it. Have we as a society become so lethargic that we have begun to find even more ways of not to be active? I mean, this is new heights of inactivity. Imagine how many calories could be added up in the year that a person could have lossed if they had actually pulled or pushed the door open every single time the go to the restroom. Again, I know this is far fetched but it is a start. Every little bit adds up , right? And I know that we have a disabled co-worker on our floor and , to me, she should be the ONLY one to use that button unless someone becomes temporarily physically challenged and not just lazy. This is so Wall-E if I ever saw it!
I know that this is far fetched too, but I think that those buttons should be chip activated and only disabled persons should be able to swipe a disability issued card past the button in order to activate the door. I know a ton of people who would be pissed at the fact that they had to now actually use the appendages that were issued to them for the very purpose of pushing and pulling. Well…. I know this was random….but it is what it is. Now….please use your ability while you have it.
There comes a time in everyone’s life when they will get asked, “What’s up with the change?” or “Why’re you acting brand new?”, to which you should reply, “Define brand new” or “From who’s stand point?”.
I say this because, often times, vantage point can make a world of difference. John Lennon’s wife, Yoko Ono (sp), did an amazing piece of artwork where she does a bullet hole through a glass pane. She makes you look at the glass from both sides so that you can see if you are the shooter or the one shot. She said, “Unfortunately, I was on the bad side”. I can bet my soul I know which side she would have rather been on if she had a choice in the matter. But this artwork is a symbol of life and life’s vantage point.
Recently, while on a vacation with someone who I deemed friend, I watched the vantage point change. And although it was rather subtle at first, I started to notice her behave “brand new”, or at least it seemed that way to me. But was that bad? Well, this morning on Twitter @SimplySandraG said, “Someone asked me why I was acting brand new & in response I asked them why are they still acting the same.” Which made me think….is acting brand new always a bad thing, or can it be a good thing? And I think it depends on what that new behavior is and how it is executed.
For example, If you are a hoe on land… I’m pretty sure you will be a hoe at sea. Not calling anyone a hoe, used term for dramatic effect. But if the condom fits….wear it. There is no switch in that unless you get hit with the Holy Ghost and change your ways before departing the port. But is there really brand new behavior or is it that the revealing of such behavior is deemed incorrect for the current situation? Like the kid who jumps on furniture at home and then the parents pretend to be outraged in public pretending that they’ve never seen their children do this before. I say this because, there are always signs of a person’s behavior, but maybe the situation lends for it to be okay, therefore causing the person to become accustomed to executing such behavior. Thus, when the environment changes, the one who is more keen to changing does so while the other person keeps doing the same behavior and is therefore deemed as “acting brand new”. Confused? I’ll explain further.
If you have a friend who can NEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEVER be on time to save their life unless they are representing themselves, their business, or their family and can NEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEVER respect the time of others (those deemed friends)….then how can you expect them to change when stepping outside of those guidelines just because the environment changes? If everyone caters to such rude and inconsiderate behaviors by changing their arrival times, joking that they know this person is never on time, or re-routing caravans to cater to this person….you can only expect that this person will get use to being catered to and that this behavior is acceptable. You can also believe that the minute someone is smart enough to stop enabling this type of behavior the Tardy for the Party person will inevitably get defensive and think that you have a problem with them because, after all, they deserved to be catered to at all times…. right? So EVEN if they spend 4 nights of a cruise in the stateroom with 2 guys that they just met 3 days earlier (the first night being your birthday night, despite whatever the circumstances may be)……you should be perfectly okay with such “brand new” behavior, right? And even if they hand your stateroom key to a complete male stranger ( 3 days does not a friend & trust factors make) to come check on you in your room because you went missing and they didn’t feel the need to get out of the bed from snuggling with their new cruise guy….you should be perfectly okay with such “brand new” behaviors…right? I mean, after all, you’re the one that is remaining the same, right? Or are they the ones who are remaining the same and you are changing because common sense tells you to do better and therefore your change is making someone else look as if they are acting “brand new”?
*Side note*: THE GIVING OF THE STATEROOM KEY TO A STRANGER BECAUSE YOU TRUST TOO MANY GOT DAMN PEOPLE FAR TOO SOON AND ESPECIALLY IF THEY HAVE A PENIS>>>>IS ENOUGH TO GET YOU FUCKED UP! I DONT SUGGEST THAT ANYONE EVER TRY THIS WHILE ON A CRUISE! USE SOME COMMON SENSE ,PEOPLE! THAT’S ALL I’M ASKING! COMMON SENSE!!!!
If you are confused by this… so am I. lol. But perhaps the environment is what has changed, and both parties are remaining true to their character ( or lack there of) and therefore both parties feel as if the other has changed, when in fact….. they havent. For instance, if 2 people sit in the dark at midnight and one ( due to the dark) appears to have a black shirt on but as the sun rises (environment change) now appears to have on a purple shirt…. did the person really change or did the environment change causing the appearance of change? Meaning, that person hasn’t changed and neither have you… the sun has finally shifted therefore revealing to you something that has been there all along and you are just now seeing it. Like the time I was starting up my own sisterhood, when my top divas (Vice President, Secretary, Event Planner, etc) all saw the new recruits misbehaving, slacking on turning in assignments, and even watched me put them in check. When I dismissed a recruit for not following the rules or carrying their weight, my top divas were right behind me….agreeing with every step & damn near virtually hi-fiving me for getting rid of dead weight. I didn’t cater to anyone; if you didn’t carry your weight you had to bounce. But ooooooooh no! As soon as they started slacking on assignments and not pulling their weight, they had to go. Of course it came up that I had changed. When in fact, I had been the same person, upholding the same standards, and not the only difference had been who was being punished for falling below those standards. They had encouraged my behavior, they told me that I was doing good when I saw a wrong and went to fix it ( I wasnt always the most tactful, I admit but the job got done) So you see, I had not changed, the vantage point did, the environment had changed. So, do you get mad at the person, the behavior, or the environment?
I say blame yourself for not noticing. lol. We often push our better judgement to the side when dealing with so-called friends. We must STOP that. We must hold our friends to the same standards as we do for strangers since those closest to us can screw us over faster than those furthest from us. If your friend doesn’t curse in front of their parents but does at a bar….that person curses. Point. Blank. Period. If this person has bad judgement when it comes to men at home, taking a trip isn’t going to change it. Point. Blank. Period. If your friend is quick-tempered and ready to beat anyone’s ass back home, I suggest you don’t try to come out the side of your neck via text messages during the holiday season…..because you can still get that ass whooped! POINT! BLANK!PERIOD!!! It is an evolution of changing environments and we already possess those behaviors that will be revealed upon entering such situations. It is up to us to pay more attention to others sooner. Hold ourselves accountable for our own actions; be they wrong or right, new or old. And we must not be willing to accept poor behavior from ANYONE at ANY TIME that does not show full respect to us and our situation. Now, go ahead…insert this rule into your life, and watch the ones you’ve been catering to for far too long say that you’re “acting brand new”. Then….agree with them.
With this video on repeat I transport back to the days when I sat in my Auburn University dorm in the heart of Dixie waiting for the day when I could finally get a chance to see the CHOCOLATE City. Just to move here in 2004 and feel like I stepped in the heart of Spokane, Washington back in ’95 when you would hug a stranger just because they were black. Finding a black person living in the center of DC is like trying to find Waldo in a candy cane factory. I swear if Lincoln wasnt a president they would tear down the Lincoln Theater too because he freed the slaves and they’d need to gentrify (new word) that too & call it Bush Theater.
So who is this genius in the video, you ask? Well this is my poetical goon & big brother…none other than Droopy the Broke Baller! With many awards and successes under his belt, host at the famous Busboys and Poets, slam teams on his resume and the weekly co-host of the infamous Spit Dat here in DC every Thursday….Droopy is no stranger to bringing forth the issues that others are too afraid to bring to the kitchen to cook, let alone actually bring to the table and serve to the public. Normally known as the Black Weird Al Yankovic and Prince of Parody, he is making people think through the use of comedy….but even then they say that truth is told in jest. At best, he will always make you think. I know from first hand, after sitting for 2 hours and critiquing his CD track by track (b/c he asked and I took it literally…lol),and learning to appreciate the dedication that he has for educating through humor….but educating never the less!
You don’t have to live or walk the halls of the U Street corridors here in Washington, DC to get the gist of what Droopy is referring too. Take away Michelle Rhee and Adrian Fenty and replace them with any Chancellor of Public Schools and any Mayor and I am sure that unless you live in the DOnald Trump’s libing room….you’ll feel the sentiments of his words. High rent, segregation in an age of “Yes,We Can”s, and people being pushed to the edge of the District to Virginia and Maryland are all too common these days. Here in the District, we call this metropolitan the DMV for DC, Maryland and Virginia, but daily is seems like it’s the D telling those of darker skin to M(o)V(e). And not to Beverly Hills, that is…..but to Prince Georges County.
And you would think that anyone who went to school to be put in a leadership position that deals with education would be smart enough to know that you don’t mess up your very own future by jacking up the school system. I guess Rhee never got that lesson. I saw a school on Georgia Ave get knocked down and replaced by a basketball court. If that isn’t sending a kid a message, I have no clue what else is. It’s as if they are screaming to the kids in the overcrowded math classes with 40 kids to one teacher, who doesn’t give a damn that they could care less if you focus on class, as long as you have a court to play on you better not rob us. It’s a shame that the U.S. Capitol has some of the worst school conditions in the entire country….and they say that everything starts at the head. But I guess as long as your children are in the private schools, you could care less. I don’t have kids of my own, but I am smart enough to know that those kids who are failing math and getting pushed through will one day be the very same adults who issue your critical heart medication. 2 CCs of dumbass plus 8 CCs of too much of this will kill you and .5 CC of you should have planned better. Think on it! I know this from example from an ex who called the Washington Monument “that pencil looking building” who just so happened to be in school for nursing and admits to cheating on tests. Remind me to NEVER go to the hospital where he works in case of an emergency.
Now on to ex-Mayor Fenty…..I am just happy that I no longer live directly in the District. He was too bold for his health. He pretended as if we worked for him. The only time he was seen out in public was when he would stand on the corner of Michigan Ave & North Capitol Street waving his green signs trying to distract you from all of the shit he didn’t do during his term. You would have thought that he was the president the way he paraded around the District. He went on trips and wouldn’t tell anyone when he was leaving or if he was using political funding. Needless to say, he got voted out of the office and no last-minute ditch efforts to “write-in” his name on ballots could have made people feel otherwise.
As far as this video goes….Well Done, Goon. This is well executed in cinematography, contrast, format, and lyrics. I would never expect less from you…..THIS is the birth of change. THIS is what poetry was intended to do. THIS is what gets me up in the morning, put paper to pen and dare you to challenge me. I take my hat off you, big bro…. I be damned if you havent done it yet again! Check him out on Facebook and on Twitter…this is a cat that everyone needs to put on their roster.
So-Shall I be the first to point out that yes, the title may seem just a tad bit racist. Well.. I’m not racist! Some of my closest friends are white! And no, I am not making a generalized statement for ALL white people, but yes, this does apply to MOST white people. Shoot me on being Politically Incorrect later… right now… I’m venting.
So this blog comes from the fact that for the past two days/years I have been the victim of Caucasian Anti-Conflict measures, aka Passive-Aggressive, aka That Bull SHit! I don’t do well with beating around the bush. I am perfectly happy with just setting the whole damn bush on fire and letting the truth burn or confess what the hell is on its mind. hahaha a Burning Bush sounds so Biblical…but modernized concept. Point blank…. I don’t like it and it drives me up the wall.
Where does this come from? I could turn completely militant and ask ” are you that afraid of black people, or conflict in general, that you would rather appear to be a strong force while turning female dog behind closed doors”? You do know that I have no source of respect for anyone who participates in this kind of action. It shows weakness, it creates animosity, it creates a divide in whatever form of trust that may have been present before you turned bitch. And I am not saying this as a minority woman, but as a person in general, I like people in authority to be in authority and not to abuse the power.
When I came to this position at my job I worked under a very powerful, strong-willed, and intelligent African-American woman. Now, my other African-American women know that this in and of itself could pose as a recipe for disaster in the work place. Well try two black women at the head of your division. I just knew I wasnt going to make it through this experience without getting arrested, but I was sadly mistaken. These two black women were some of my best bosses in my whole employment history. They were direct, they were quick in correcting the issue and you never were in the dark about what your tasks were, how they felt about you, and what it was that was coming down the pipeline. I LOVED that. They put out the fire before the gasoline was even ciphered out of the ground, they didn’t wait for the match to be lit after the situation was drenched in octane. I felt very accomplished working under the two of them and I got a ton of work done. This is the type of environment that I thrive in; directness, preciseness, and honesty.
But this joy was short-lived as one boss got a job in another division and the HWIC retired. We then got this younger Caucasian male to replace her. I was like, okay, new experience but I will embrace it. But now!…..please bring my two black women back!!!!!!! Between his indecisiveness, his two-faced ways, his cutting you off in the middle of conversations, and his bold face lying…. I just can’t take the Passive-Aggressive measures that he is already taking as the new lead of my division. I can’t do it…. then his elderly mini-me who follows behind him drives me absolutely up the wall….let me explain.
I am, if nothing else, a very direct & consistent woman…if I say that I will do something then that is exactly what I am going to do unless a force of God takes that power away from me. So, if I am going to be late, sick, or stuck in traffic I text, email, or call my Caucasian supervisor and let him know…he’s the elderly mini-me. I have sent emails and text messages at 4am as I head to the ER or 6am while I am having an asthma attack on my bathroom floor. I’ve even texted him, WHILE DRIVING…which is ILLEGAL…if I am stuck in this horrible DMV traffic just so that they are aware of where I am. All this to say….they know where I am. So dude, if you don’t hear from me saying that I am running late, that means that I am in the office somewhere and all you need to do is leave me the hell alone. But noooooooooooo this fossil decides to walk past my office to the office behind me, which is a dead-end, and then turn back just to say good morning and walks back to his desk. Or if I am on the phone and a meeting has started he walks over and tells me that I need to get off the phone because a meeting is going on ( never mind the fact that this phone call pertains to information that I need to share in the meeting as soon as it is completed). Or an office email is sent out and he has to walk over and tell me the very same damn thing that the email says… FOOL YOU HIRED ME BECAUSE I CAN READ!!!! This nonsense gets old, annoying, and mentally challenging.
When there is a situation that needs to be resolved I feel like I am floating in the middle of Kat Stacks vag. I have walked to my elderly supervisor with concerns and problems asking for his assistance just to have him tell me that I need to suck it up. I have sent emails and documented issues that have stressed me out, made my working conditions unbearable and that have almost made me choose to quit just to have him sit on them and say that we are here to please the company. But when those very problems are brought to him because they have escalated and I am now in trouble… NOW he comes to me and wants to set the record straight. Do you all know that I am on probation at work because this pale fart failed to do his due diligence as my supervisor and ensure that I was covered!!! He walks into meetings like he has never heard my concerns and turns shocked that this is even happening and throws me under the fucking bus!!!! I HATE THIS MESS! This type of behavior will get his 2 days from shaking God’s hand in person ass pushed down an elevator shaft! WHO DOES THAT?!!! My head boss sat in front of us yesterday and asked for another co-worker in front of everyone. That co-worker comes into the office and mentions that she heard she was being looked for and he lied to her face. But then he calls his mini-me into the office and we get a discussion about being on time.
Dear White People…. don’t do that shit! When I walk into a meeting and you make a generalized statement, it goes right over my head because I know what you once told me and I stick with that. When I ask you if it is me and for specific details, dont generalize me because you will get generally ignored. For example, I was told that my friendship with another employee was a conflict of interest…but when I asked what aspects of that friendship so that I could fix the situation, I was told that it was no big deal. If it is no big deal why the hell are you sitting with me in an office telling me that there is a problem with my damn friendship? Then when I say that I will stop being friends with this person they tell me to stop being dramatic and all of that is no necessary. WELL, DAMN IT THEN TELL ME WHAT PART I NEED TO FIX because my job is not worth me losing over a friendship that I only have when I am in the office, nor is my healthy or parole record worth damaging because you can’t make up your damn mind.
So, speak to me directly. Conflict is good… that shows me that you are human, that you have opinions and that I cant run all over you. I respect logical conflict….but this Passive-Aggressive nonsense causes me to lose all respect for you, what you stand for and you will get nothing out of me. Change this up. I shouldnt always have to conform to the ways of the world….sometimes the ways of the world need to acknowledge that you are incorrect, flat-out wrong and do something to correct it. That is my thought. And Scene!
Now that I have your attention… welcome. The taboo sentiments that circle around the topic of homosexuality are enough to make me torch the nearest discriminating heterosexual with rainbow gasoline. Seriously, no matter what you think of the topic ,no one civil right should be trumped by one’s disapproval of another’s civil rights. Point, Blank, Period!
The title, obvious. I pulled a Katy Perry once in undergrad; I kissed a girl…and I liked it. One time, end of story. Nothing dramatic, nothing scandalous, just truth. What?!!! I went to a majority white college… girl on girl kissing is required in the student constitution to get your diploma…lol. So, should I be persecuted for a seemingly innocent homosexual act? Should I be banned from heaven because, in all actuality, I find the feminine form more attractive than that of a male’s but prefer the male’s over a woman’s? Or do I get a pass, the left blinded eye of justice, because I am a “redeemed” homosexual and I didn’t even send in $10.99 for a free healing prayer cloth? News flash, it is not the act that makes a person homosexual.
I’ve never had sex with a woman, I just can’t picture myself ever taking it that far….so I’m a lesbian on paper…lol. I send in my dues every month at a gay pride rally but that is about it. But if you ask me how do I identify myself….you’ll never hear me say heterosexual. For that matter, you’ll never hear me say I’m homosexual. I just am. I stand in the middle, torn by what a part of me once experienced and what the rest of the world says is appropriate, all the while thinking that they could both exist harmoniously.
Ignorance about homosexuality makes me cringe. I actually have a co-worker who once, while proclaiming his frustration over his son’s flying to New York from Florida to see his long distance girlfriend, said, “Well, it could be worse. He could be gay.” He said it as if being a serial killer, an international terrorist, or satan himself were all better than if his son were a homosexual with perfect credit and a clean criminal record with the cure to all currently incurable diseases stuffed in his left jean pant pocket. But this of course is coming from the same “Christian” coworker who posted this above his desk:
I rest my case……….Shame how people can hate but can’t even copy/paste scripture properly…lol
I have homosexual friends that I have invited to my church over, and over, and over again. I hate having to preface with “the speaker may hit an anti-homosexual rant, but listen to the voice of God between it all.” I want to stand up and shout during service…. “MUCH LIKE THE MILITARY, THE MORE PEOPLE WE HAVE SPREADING GOD’S MESSAGE, THE BETTER OFF WE ARE IN THIS WAR AGAINST EVIL!” But I don’t. I let the masses in the pews clap and cheer and Amen the minister of the day. Deep down I just want to fix it all, help bring a different approach. Telling me that I am wrong will not make me listen to you, but showing me another way for something to be done may get me to see your side. Shouting to the hills that homosexuality is wrong keeps so many lost souls from hearing God’s message. It’s almost as if they don’t think that bringing them into His house, teaching the rest of his teachings, will be enough ground work for God to magically work in their lives the way that He sees fit. It’s almost as if they are shouting that you can’t be Christian if you are a homosexual or don’t disapprove of homosexuals. When in fact they could try the Pythagorean-ish theorem. If a=God, and b=His mercy, then c=His love for you. One may conclude after hearing those lessons repeatedly that God would work inside of the person. You can’t cut out what you THINK is cancer without first taking tests, blood work ( pardon the religious pun), X-rays, and even the initial incision on the surgery table. Baby steps, not attack. And I am not saying here that it should even be changed…but if you think that homosexuals should be changed…think of a different approach.
I also don’t think that religiously suppressing homosexuals is a healthy method of spiritually reforming people for the heterosexual partners that they may find themselves with. As a female who would one day like to be married to a male, I have fears of being in a relationship with a male who loves another male but because his church tells him he should be with a female he picks one as a front for the public and then begins down low activities…been there, done that… tested negative. That is a touchy subject for me. If you told me that my “now” husband was once with a man… I would always wonder if he still had those same feelings and I would want him to go be with whomever made him happy rather than stick around in a marriage with me simply because I was female. Only God can change an urge. My urge to stop having sex, though, doesn’t make me a virgin again, just like making someone stop engaging in homosexual activities will not make a homosexual a heterosexual. So am I wrong for letting God work his magic on the things that would cause me to hate? Am I wrong for having faith that God will work things out and as long as I continue to love everyone around me, respect them as humans and preach the word of God to get people into His house, no matter their sexual preference, God will be proud of me? Or am I wrong for thinking that it is ridiculous to lose a person over one Biblical scripture rather than gain them through a thousand others?
I highly doubt that when it is all said and done that I will get to the pearly gates and Peter is gonna chuck up the Dueces with Jesus on speaker phone as they both tell me that I must spend eternity in hell because I didn’t choose to persecute the gays. People use the Bible at their convenience to promote their cause. I say, if you don’t use it all exactly the way that it was written….dont come hollering that nonsense in my ear all out of context. I’ve even heard ministers say that “this is a new time but the messages still apply”. Well, when your wife can’t have a baby you better not turn to invetro, you better sleep with your house servant. When Michael Jackson died he should have risen like Lazarus. I’m just saying… do you see the disconnect here? Why is it that other things can be forgotten, modernized, and substituted, but the principle of homosexuality and adamant hatred associated with it managed to last throughout the ages? Maybe, now, God needs this individual, who happens to be a homosexual, to know the love that God has for all human beings. Maybe this individual needed to hear how Job waited on the Lord, or how Joseph, David, and others over came trials. Maybe they need for you to practice the agape that you preach. Just maybe.
I know several homosexuals that walk the halls of my church without them ever having to say a word but I have proof….their secret will be safe with me even after I die ( and I love them for EXACTLY who they are). I have several friends who are openly homosexual and I preach the word of God to them. I even have one requesting that I explain to her what “touch and agree” means because I say it around her so much. And I have a homosexual friend who revealed to me their HIV status…I didn’t shy away from them, I didnt think…”that’s what you get”, no… I loved them even more. And I laugh, joke, and talk about God with them whenever I can. I actually have some deep conversations about God with this individual. So yeh… the gays know the Holy Trinity as well… they just don’t always feel accepted by those claiming to be “His” people. You see, I don’t think that its my place to cast the first stone, but it is my place to say, come into God’s house, listen to his word and He will work on you in His time. I love all of my brothers and sisters, straight, not so straight, and flat out crooked. I think that is what I am supposed to do.
A homosexual engaging in homosexual acts may not directly or indirectly kill me. But a straight man who came to church to hear a word about how God will make a way out of no way but instead hears about the persecution of the gays who then leaves and holds my bank hostage while i’m trying to pull out rent money….just might. No one sin is greater than another. Shouting “no homo” is not only stupid, but saying that you are not the same…when in fact you are. You too are human, you too are a sinner looking to be saved, and you too are praying that one day you will get into heaven despite your faults. So much like weight, who a homosexual loves just happens to be a visual habit that many feel they can pick on while keeping their own personal habits in the closet.
This is not a rant to say that “Christians” are wrong and homosexuals are right. Just like I am entitled to my opinion, you are more than welcome to be bigoted by yours. *smirk* I just know that I can wake up with my conscience free every morning knowing that I am not hating someone or a sect of persons just because someone standing before me says that I should. God hasn’t spoken that chapter of the Bible to me yet.
All jokes aside, I don’t believe everything that I read because many a man has had their say so in what I read before my eyes ever set sail across the page. But I do believe that God exists and my relationship with him is one of understanding and love. I am comfortable in that and will not let anyone else’s interpretation of how my Father and I behave taint my relationship with Him or how He chooses to shine through me. Again, you “christian” your way and I will “christian” my way..yes, I made it a verb. lol. It shouldn’t be that way, but as it stands….this is peaceful. Now…back to the gays…..
Being a homosexual, to me, isn’t a crime……hate my theory all you want, I will not change. I say this… premarital sex isn’t favored upon….lets hold everyone to that standard no matter what your preference. Because I would hate for someone to not get saved and know God like I am still getting to know him just because they chose to love differently than myself. I have faith that God can work miracles and if GOD chooses to keep them homosexual…then that is between God and that person. I must uphold the love, grace, and mercy that has been shown to me and display it to others who come in my presence. I’m not a homosexual, nor am I heterosexual,;I am the understanding. I understand what it feels like to want someone to hear you out. I also know what it feels like to hear God telling me what to do, not tainted in my mission and do it in spite of. I also know that God would want me to love far more than he would ever want me to hate. And if I am wrong in that assumption, He’ll deal with me on my Judgement Day. Until then… all humans are alright with me. None of us are 100 % right nor know all of the answers, but I will definitely love you until we find a conclusion or one of us dies. And if these men don’t start acting right I just might cash in my lesbian on paper membership to a full fledge flag waving VIP member… DON’T PUSH ME!!! No hetero.
P.S. If you like this topic, check out my other topic: 200 Men Said…. “Same”phobic Homosapiens <~Click Here
I’ll never forget the day that I was watching Blue Print on BET, Nelly was on the couch looking as delicious as always, but it would be what he said next that would wake up my understanding of “it takes a village.” When asked how does Nelly feel about the backlash he receives from the Tip Drill video since he is supposed to be a role model, Nelly replied [paraphrased]:
“My children have never seen, nor heard Tip Drill in my house, or at all…and I made the video/song. What that tells me is that you are unable to filter what your children watch and listen to and point the blame at me when they are subjected to such material. It starts at home first.”
Bam! There it was, a slap in the face to all parents for sucking at Millenium Parenting 101. A celebrity basically told you that somewhere in his busy schedule of not always being in the same household, yet alone the same country, as his children he has managed to still find time to parent them “correctly”. So what is your excuse? So what if you have 3 jobs and sleep while your kids do homework. So what if you see your kids only on the weekend. So what if your baby’s daddy/mama is bugging this week. A celebrity is telling you that YOU were not the proper role model in your household so your children turned to him, and that is NOT his fault because the only children he is concerned about is his own when it comes to setting the proper example…well not exactly, but you catch my drift.
Picture this, teens and parents alike are idolizing the images that they see these celebrities, particularly rappers, portray on their televisions daily without ever taking into consideration that these are false replicas of their home lives. Snoop raps about sleeping with several women, crip walking, always high, etc. When in reality, his own kids are in extra curricular activities. He makes sure that they have positive outlets to keep them out of the same negative influences that he had growing up. OutKast makes jokes about getting married and remembering what “a pimp taught you”, while Big Boi has a lovely home life that he keeps very much to himself so that the outside world can’t taint it. David Banner has a DOCTORATE degree that will never find its way up into his music because it doesn’t sell records, and Diddy probably will never rap about how he keeps making millions without a single consecutive album on the charts. This is a clear disconnect in the village’s line of communication.
Let me use Nelly’s daughter as an example ( and I do so with the utmost respect and purely for demonstration purposes). Let’s say Nelly protects only his daughter from Tip Drill, but here is this other child at home watching Tip Drill because it was made available to him since his parents aren’t as strict as Nelly. As time passes, both children will grow up and , for the sake of this demonstration, will meet and fall in love. This young gentleman is a fan of Nelly’s and wishes to impress him whenever in his presence, but behind closed doors he believes in the Tip Drill theory and has enough influence over his daughter to make her the next Tip Drill Vixen, because Daddy isn’t her main focus any more. Can anyone say Montana Fishburne? Or what about the kids who were featured on T.I’s television show? He told these kids that he was a changed man, there was a better way of handling things…and then turns around and gets arrested on some drug charges (allegedly…*side eye*). To a kid who looks up to him that sends a mixed message, but should he look up to T.I.? Or should he look up to the single mother at home struggling to keep up with her other 3 children while this teen is refusing to follow house rules? This same teen could one day grow up to be the thug that he thinks T.I. to be ( since T.I. doesn’t always stick to his word…allegedly) and be the very thug that robs T.I.’s son of a chain, or start a fight in a club deja vu style….catch my drift?
The theory of “It Takes a Village to Raise a Child” still stands true, but the meaning has somewhat gotten lost in its translation from an African Proverb to an Urban Legend. Parents, becoming an active part of the village shields your child in the future. You will have had a hand in raising the child next door, possibly preventing them from obtaining psycho killer habits because they knew that someone was there to care for them. Grandmothers down the street with readily available switches will remind them that their best behavior is to be expected at all times. Strangers pinching will be the extra pair of eyes in the back of your head for the mannish male attempting to sneak a peek or a feel at your daughter’s rear end. The theory is rather narcissistic, actually. It is all about gaining control of the elements around you to better protect you and your family. You can’t be in fighting stance and expect to win if you don’t know that your opponent is already suited up and standing outside your door. Now that I think about it…. it takes a Village to keep you from getting your ass whooped…lol. But I digress. Speaking up to tell the kids on metro platforms to behave, if only temporary, will indirectly cut down on the metro cops profiling you when having innocent fun with your friends after a night on the town. It is all rather cyclical…..
I’ve been and continue to be a spoke on this village’s wheel. In true Forrest Gump Fashion, ” if you lean on my back and I lean on your back, that way we wont have to sleep in the mud.” Drop your pride, MOTHERS, no one is saying that you are a bad mother and that you don’t know how to raise your kids….unless they truly are saying you’re a bad mother and don’t know how to raise your kids…lol. But accept the extra set of healthy eyes, the extra set of helping hands…..it will all work out fine in the morning. Maybe we can return to the days when we slept with doors unlocked because we know that out neighbors are watching out for us just as we are watching out for them. Maybe we will feel safer to send our children down the street because every door step will view and guide the path of our child while in our absence….maybe, just maybe…… a Villager can dream, cant I?
WARNING:This is a very graphic and tough topic. Personal experiences and sexual references are made andPARENTAL DISCRETION IS ADVISED.
Somewhere, in some part of the world, there is a little girl snuggled in her bed pressed against a wall, head under her pillow with just enough space to inhale for the breath holding ahead and to peek towards the door knob awaiting the return of her personal boogie man. Monsters Inc prepares children for the monsters who reside under your bed and in your closets, but what about the monsters who pin you down to the bed and force you and this secret into the closet….what then?
I was one of those children, and I don’t know if I have ever stopped being one of those children. To this day, I sleep with my bedroom door locked, a privilege that was not granted to me living under his roof. I have escape routes out of windows in my house just in case an intruder were to ever invade my safe haven. Windows covered in complete darkness resemble the rooms I had growing up because our neighbor’s house was so close and he lived by the rule of thumb that “what happens in this house stays in this house.” Who was I to judge his authority?
(Screaming!) He molested me! *exhales* There, I said it…outloud. Who is this “he”, you ask?
He was my father, Charles S Carter Jr, and he was the man who molested me from before I could remember until the courts took us away from him when I was 12 years old. People say that I look like him, but I still need a DNA test to even begin that process. He was an electrical engineer with several degrees who spoke several languages, and a normal relationship was as foreign to us as him speaking Korean to me in moments of battle. I was his daughter. His first-born, born from the love that he had once married to my mother, but I would come to learn that although I was not his favorite I would turn out to be Daddy’s Girl. Late night parent daughter talks, asthmatic lungs inhaling the stench of Newports from his chest as the weight of a grown man crushed my prepubescent body into a mattress for no other reason than I was female, easily accessible, and he had a disease that yearned to be fed. Daughter perched on daddy’s lap became a moment to talk about whatever popped up, as eyes were turned to the roaming hands of a step brother who idolized him and my flat chest at the same time. This is where I lived and died daily. I lived with a military man who swore to protect his country but protected the secret of his personal habit even harder. Just ask my crushed toes underneath the Army boots that were now stepping on my feet for not wearing socks or houseshoes…as if being his daughter wasnt punishment enough.
I remember being punished just for breathing too loudly; popped in the mouth for the escape of a smack reaching his eardrum. A simple tug of his beard meant I was in trouble. One time, he hit me so hard in my tailbone that I lost control of my legs and urinated on myself all in one swift swoop, just to turn around and get a whooping for messing up the floor. A call from the teacher meant that I would have to strip in front of my father and walk the house butt naked and if he saw me ,and felt like it, then I would get a whooping right then and there. I became a master at silently turning door knobs better than he could and dodging in and out of bedrooms and hallway closets just to go to and from the bathroom in peace. Doing number two (pardon the graphics) was the only time I could be in the bathroom in peace without anyone entering. Fingers entering openings to ensure “cleaning” because I was filthy, followed by my father laying me on the bed to towel dry me off and rub me from head to toe with baby oil. Slow grinding on me was common place. Adolescent hips popping out of socket under the weight of his grinding, hurting, caused me to try to push him off because talking would make him lose his concentration and bring whoopings. He never listened to my cries and held my hands down. There I was, learning the best lessons of male and female relationships from my father. How lucky was I to learn about the birds and bees from my own father? Every girl needs a father in the house, right?
One day in church I just didn’t want to go back to his house. My aunt couldn’t make me if God told me to go back himself. I’d had enough. Sitting in the police station with male police officers giving me different toys to describe my fathers penis proved unfruitful; I didn’t trust males. They had no choice but to send me back. I got a whooping until I blacked out. My father took me to a therapist to save face…maybe she could figure out where I was “making these stories up”.
Off of Carmichael Road in Montgomery, Alabama sat my therapist’s office. A soft-spoken caucasian woman who listened intently as my father sat on the other side of the door. That is until the day she asked me to re-enact with Barbie and Ken what I told the police happened….so, I showed her. She opened the door and invited my father into the room so he could see too. I never spoke of anything again. And yes, you guessed it….I got a whooping until I had an asthma attack and he had to take me to Maxwell Air Force Base to the ER. This time my Aunt believed me and she fought for custody…but she still allowed him visitations until she passed away when I was 15. He came to her house for her funeral and sat in the kitchen and told ever male there not to be trusted around me because I would lie on them like I had lied on him. And he vanished into street legend. I never saw him, or the therapist ever again.
My father followed me, in theory. I heard stories of him doing crack from friends in high school, but he had taught me the best lesson ever; Never let anyone make you feel like less of a person. I walked those halls of my high school as a virgin…because I was. Guys from all around wanted to be with the virgin and every single one failed. I wouldn’t willingly give myself to someone until I was in college. You see….I was molested, but he didn’t take my virginity.
Every guy is not my father, nor am I searching for him in every guy that I date….but through all that I wrote above and more that I didn’t write….I was still a human. A demon like him couldn’t touch the best parts of me. He couldn’t reach them with all of his might because his intentions were wrong. My virginity had nothing to do with sex…my virginity was me, my mind, my free spirit, my determination to rise above where people keep putting me, and the favor that was placed over me even though I was entangled in a generational curse. He tried, but I walked out of his house and his presence with the hymen of my integrity and the mission over my life in tack.
Today, he lives in Baltimore. He’s never been prosecuted, never been made to suffer for what he put me and others through. One day, and maybe soon… I will walk to where they say that he works and tell him that he couldn’t break me. He couldn’t make me feel less than a princess even though my father wasnt a king.
This is a part of what I went through, but it is NOT who I am. It helped me make decisions about not showing my body to just any guy. You’ll never hear tales of me sleeping with different guys all in the name of love without being in love. You’ll never see pics of me plastered on the internet that show more of my assets than I am showing I am worth. And you will never hear that I’ve stopped breaking the silence. I was molested but I was never a victim. My virginity never has to be born again because it never died. I found strength through this. Dont get me wrong, I’d never go back a second time…. but I made it out, and THAT is something to be proud of. Where I came from does NOT determine where I will go.
So, to anyone who has been through similar stories….today is not too late to realize that they had the problem and not you. We are of a sisterhood that many will never understand. I salute you and all of your wonderful glory. I stopped holding my father accountable for what he did to me and the effects it had on my life the day I last saw him….that is not my battle. It weighs you down, trust me. I try to find love as much as often in my daily activities…..today.. I love you. One day you will gain the strength to no longer be ashamed of your story…until then I will speak for you, I dont mind. What are sisters for, right?
My prayer is that, just this once ,you listen to my father: What happened in your house, stays in your house…..including the pain and the shame. We’ve got other little girls to protect. No time for living in the past. Here, take my hand…..I’m with you as we walk out of our molester’s house. God bless!
Sincerely,
~*My Mother’s Daughter*~
This is the house where majority of it happened. On Pinebrook Dr in Montgomery,AL
NOTICE:If you read this.. LEAVE A NOTE DANGIT!!! W/ your rude behind!
Yes….another blog entry about weight… get over it.
So, one of my personal assistants, Andrew, and I have had long and drawn out text messages over the issue of weight. I hate to admit it…. but he brings forth some very good points….at very few times (lol). Yet, on some of his other points I need to know why he thinks that way because its hard for me to see a guy with amazing abs and body (did I mention his eyes?) hold a legit, equally balanced, and unbiased conversation about a person’s plight for being overweight. lol. [Wait, I hope that doesn’t constitute as sexual harassment since he is technically my employee…lol. Oh, hell, he’ll get over it. lol. ]Maybe that is a bias that I need to change within myself; the fact that you don’t have to be overweight to know where we’re coming from. Well, long story longer than the shorter version but shorter than the longest version….in response to my blog “Yes, I’m Fat… Thanks for Noticing” he made a good point that reminded me of an idea that I’ve had for years; Why are plus size people looked at as weak? Shouldnt we be viewed as the stronger persons in society for walking daily with our issues on our shoulders? Shouldnt we be the sought after ones for surviving through all of the ridicule?
If you havent read the other blog entry… CLICK HERE and read it to catch up, you slacker.
In the aforementioned blog I made the mention of how other people can hide their weaknesses and personal habits but that plus size people wear their issues on the exterior. We may eat in secret, or swallow pain and resentment covered in mango curry sauce…but everyone can still visually see our issues. Shouldnt the outward appearance of our issues be enough to say, “Here I am world. You know my problems now what are yours?” It would be like Intervention’s version of “You show me yours & I’ll show you mine.” Fear Factor for the dysfunctionally senile in denial! Those who are willing to walk to the closet of their issues and drape them with a beautiful umpire waisted belt and walk into the world the very same way that we do every day. See, walking to the closet every day , for the plus size woman who has accepted her plight and is not in denial, is more like preparing for a final exam or your thesis statement (just got another blog idea). What will this outfit say about me as it wraps itself around my already pronounced issues? I mean, there are tons of things that go through our mind as we get dressed, but in the end we walk out of the house with our heads raised high….some of us… and we face the world.
How ironic is it that the world would make the people who carry the most weight the physically weakest? Shouldnt my carrying these extra 70 pounds make me stronger? Well, yes, technically it does…just not in the same physical manner as the gym buffs without necks. We become emotionally stronger and self-sufficient in our lives. Many of us have the very things wrapped up in our post-Christmas dinner wrappings that several other people look for but aren’t willing to unwrap.
Picture this: (And this is not Skinny Chick Bashing but this is blunt Anti-Skinny Chick…lol.. I use to be one, so I can speak on it) A guy sees a fine, thin woman from across the room. He loves the way her curves appear, her assets are ripe for the picking and her womb is playing peek-a-boo behind a nicely Golds Gym ripped set of abs. This is what he loves. Now, as soon as she gets a little thicker, the birthing hips have now given birth to stretch marks and indent lines from the too tight panties she has suction cupped to her butt in hopes that this physical change will soon go away, he (not all but some) will no longer find her attractive. Phrases like, “Baby you’ve changed”, “You’re not the same woman I met” or “You’ve let yourself go” find their way into their relationship. Was he there for the woman’s personality or was he there for her looks? Because a woman will stay there when she is in love and watch his waist grown and learn to love that there is more of him.
Picture this #2: You have the hoodrat with the big booty, 2.5 kids or 5 abortions deep…which ever will make this more disgusting for you, living at home with her mama striving to be a model who SOMEHOW manages to get the business man who one would THINK had enough common sense to know that he needs a woman who is more on his level. Standing from my previous skinny chick position, even I would say that he was in it for the booty and he’d never marry her in his right mind. Some would say why would any woman want him in the first place? It is not necessarily that we would want him… we want his eyes to be opened to what he could have and is missing out on all for the love of booty. (Sounds like another VH1 Reality Show, right?) You have beautiful plus size women who would make sure that the home was taken care of, the man was head of household, a companion in both business and personal decisions who are intelligent beyond their years being passed up on a daily basis just because a guy can’t see himself with a full-figured woman. He is passing up the very qualities that a man is supposed to findth in a wife….not wifey…but a wife. See, something is not right with either of these pictures….. these scenarios are in need of a new photographer.
I say this, fellas…. in a plus size woman, if you look at the qualities that she has: is she intelligent, is she mentally stable, she doesn’t have 7 different baby daddies, does she have goals in life, etc…then you will begin to see what we see. Instead of worrying what your size 4 girlfriend is going to look like in 7 years…you’ll already know what we look like when we gain weight…lol. The surprise will be what will we look like should we ever decide to lose the weight for ourselves, but the surprise will never be that you have possibly gained a beautiful woman who is created from your dreams and crafted to suit your needs as she conquers her own world as well.
I understand that everyone has a preference that they are entitled to pursue, if you truly arent attracted, then you are exempt. I’m here to speak to the brothers that creep behind closed doors with the plus size sisters but wont take her out in public for one reason or another (all of the reasons may not be weight….but I see y’all taking the crazy as hell skinny chicks out in public while she shows out). You like who you like, and you don’t like who you don’t like, but I want guys to stop treating plus size women like the white girlfriend cooking bacon for a black muslim; a taboo. We exists, we are sexy, and we go through a lot just to fight to be treated less than equal. We run businesses, we dress to the nines, and we love life just like any other person because we are human as well……we just want to be treated as humans. We can put it on our husbands, whip up a meal and push out some gorgeous children too…all while being the true trophy on your arm. People will see our size, but they will also see the courage that it took for you to tell them all to fall face forward with their mouth opened wide on to the lap of the status quo and commence to Super Heading.
Super Heading-(verb) created by 2Deep on Sept 7th. Intended to suggest the actions perfected by Karrin Stefans aka Super Head. Filacio.
Fellas, can you imagine being a trendsetter?! Joining the brotherhood of the thousands of men who stopped being so friggin self-centered and shallow and finally found a woman who would have his back… who also happened to be plus size? Every size woman has her issues….but you’ll never know until you try. Stop asking if there are any real good women out there if you are only looking at 12 percent of the female population, whether it be size, skin tone, creed, or length of weave. There are some very attractive women out there who could be exactly what you are looking for…..the problem is that you’re not looking in her direction. She wears majority of her issues on her exterior…so if for no other reason to date her…. you know what you are getting into. You know that she managed to walk through the day exposed and may need a hug from you. But deep down she is still strong, not a victim, and not to be judged…she is human. At least treat her as such, and if all you see is a plus size woman who is unattractive,lazy, and not worth your time because she’s let herself go…think this….”at least she’s skinny standing next to your mama!” LMBO!!! (Thanks KaNikki!)
There's no hope for me if THIS is considered too fat!
AN UNCENSORED WARNING:If you are about to read this..please leave a comment below so I know what you think so I can know what writing works and what doesnt. It simply irks the $#!+ out of me for me to write all this, people read and not respond. Actually, its rude as hell. Now….enjoy.
My night ended and my day began with the discussion of being the plus size friend. Something that is a bit of a taboo conversation, and depending on what region of the world you’re in,it also has a different source of relevancy. Well, being plus size in the Nation’s capital is like being the lone colored person at the taping of Birth of a Nation; you may have the privilege of being there, but trust me when I tell you that you are nothing more than a prop or hired help. Even yesterday my friends and I had conversations of whether or not I was this guy’s “type”. I explained to them that seldom am I ever anyone’s type. One goes on to tell me that I have to stop thinking that way because it could read on me. I swiftly told her that I never think poorly of myself and that I am the business every time I step my foot on this green earth, but common sense can tell you when a person just isn’t that into you; you recognize that and you keep it moving. Only desperate people stay around when they’re not wanted. Thankfully, I am not that type of woman because knowing when you are not wanted can save you the blunt force of rejection that gets thrusted in your face or stabbed in your back by either a casual flirt or a love interests who subtly or boldly lets you know that its your weight that makes you unattractive.
Despite any amount of confidence one may have leaving the house, not even your understanding of placing the whole armor of God on could shield you from the source of hate and disgust that could be issued in your direction upon stepping foot off of your personal property. The amount of separation that the world places on plus size people would never equate to the battle of homosexuals or the holocaust, but it does resemble that of the Civil Rights era. Actually, it could be just a tad bit worse because the bigots dont out right express their hatred for you. Brand name stores like LVLX, RAVE, and Vera Wang are encrypted signs that say No Fats allowed, Fit Persons Only. You should check the seat of the sales person’s size 2 panties as she is about to drop a load on herself when a plus size woman enters one of these stores. She tries to both monitor the items that the plus size person has in their arm and remember the politically correct phrasing for reminding the plus size person that their big ass has no home within the walls of this anti-obese clothing facility. Inside, the plus size person wants to scream, “Trick, can I please shop your jewelry in peace?” or “May I please purchase this size zero for a family member or friend without you preparing a eulogy for the zipper without my having even asked for the location of the dressing rooms?” No matter where we go, we are just assumed to be one way rather than being taken on an individual basis.
I carry the struggle of weight just like the next plus size person, but I am my own person. I can get up and run a mile without complaining….but who does that for fun? lol. I can teach dance classes for hours without even noticing that this is in fact considered exercise, or walk the mall for hours carrying bags and never once request to sit down from body aches. I am NOT by any stretch of the imagination the most athletic person you will ever meet, but I am also not the laziest. If you were to follow me on any given day you would imagine how a person could move around so much and be my size, just to come to the conclusion of confusion when I tell you that I am both safe and harmed behind the walls of my fat rolls. Here I know that not many people will look my way when standing beside my rather modelesque or regular/average sized friends, but I am also safe from the people who would still overlook my mind and what I have to offer just because they are attracted to my outer presence. So, I don’t know the next person’s battle, but mine is to never be seen as just another ass for another deceptive guy to place on his conquer list. My fat has become my defense mechanism….but here I sit watching the world that I was once a part of wanting to belong to it once more …..just without the risks.
So, to all the plus size girls out there….I know what it feels like to fall in love with a guy and to be hidden and confined to after dark visits, never introduced to friends or family and treated differently than when you first met. I know what it feels like for people to swiftly push-off your concerns about how the world treats you by telling you that “if its your weight that you feel is the problem, then why not just lose the weight.” I know what it feels like to walk into a club with other plus size friends and hear a guy yell “Damn, there must be a buffet in the back with all of these big bitches coming up in here” or the guy sporting a shirt with the silhouette of a grotesque replica of a plus size girl surrounded by burgers and fries and other carb induced items adorned with the Ghostbusters “No” sign that reads “I don’t do Big Bitches”. Or to be walking with your friends, dressed in your best from head to toe, feeling confident in your decision as you have not fallen into the BGID [Big Girls in Denial] syndrome,you’re properly & proportionately covered and looking dazzling…just to have a guy walk up to you and say “If that’s your best, I don’t want to see your worse” . He then gives his cronies dap and other male bonding gestures that now makes him a man for trying to defeat an innocent woman just because she wasnt aesthetically pleasing to him. Also,I know what it feels like to be out dancing with your friends as a guy walks over to dance with one of the thinner divas, takes her purse and shoes that she was holding in her hand and hands them to you after saying “Here, you can hold this since no one is going to dance with you anyway.” Or to go to a Howard University homecoming and have a guy videotape and joke on another plus size friend that you came with as you jump in the line of the camera’s shot to block and protect your innocent friend from becoming the target of an internet joke fest…just to have her turn on you and say that you don’t understand because you’re smaller than her and not really plus size. What about reading a tweet that says “….. if you let yourself go, dont expect me to hold on.”? And I also know what it feels like to playfully flirt with a friend and watch him turn to every OTHER friend you’re with while your back is turned and attempt to flirt with them, or to sit in the backseat of a car and have that same guy think that you are either stupid enough or blind enough for the dark of night to mask his holding hands with a friend that you just introduced him to as she sits quietly in the front seat with his hand rested on her knee/thigh. I know what it feels like to sit back after all of this has happened and wonder if being thinner would make you visible again or wonder what could be so wrong with you that people don’t properly take your emotions into consideration.
What I have found after all of this soul-searching is that….. it is not me. Also, it is not my friends’ fault for being who they are. Yet, after all of that you try to compartmentalize the pain that comes with being you…with being a citizen in the land of More of You To Love…just to conclude that there is nothing you can do. I love myself just the way I am and it is wrong of me to let other’s actions in the presence of who I am make me feel as if I am inadequate, or that I am any less of the beautifully God crafted woman who I was intended to be. I deserve respect, I deserve love, and although all of that evades me now…..one day it will come when it is supposed to and I don’t think that me being a smaller size should have anything to do with that match made in heaven occurring for me. In the meantime, I just have to laugh at the many people who overlook the joy that is within me, the intelligence that i house, and the romantic gestures that I wish to one day share with my husband….in a way my size is allowing shallow people to pass me by and in the present mind frame I’m okay with that. My message to the bigots is that I will not try to change you, if you promise not to try to change me. So, with that…I will continue to analyze why these negative comments and actions issued in my direction as if I am not human, not attractive, not capable of understanding that I am being dissed…hurt as much as they do. Why do these comments keep me from socializing on a personal level, reaching outside of my comfort zone and grabbing life by the balls and saying , “Fuck You! Now pass me the plate”. I guess it’s too much to try to process all at once, to dissect and understand so I compartmentalize, and when asked why I am so upset I respond with….I’m just too fat for words.
One day, the world will come to learn that being plus sized is genetics, a taught/learned behavior, a medical disease [a disorder or thyroid], and a process that one jokes on only makes the matter worse. This just happens to be a personal battle that we wear on our sleeves, stomachs, and thighs so many feel they can attack it, ignore it, disrespect it, and judge it. I’d love to see the day when alcoholics, liars, sex addicts, adulteress, and thieves [etc.] could wear their habits on their sleeves, able to be viewed by the rest of the world. Until then, I am a brave soul to know that I hold my head up ever day I walk into the world, fat and all, as the world can see my habits and continue to not make an excuse for who I am. I tell the rest of the world that if you are so above me….why do you hide your habits? Why do you throw up behind closed doors, hold hands in the dark, drink while others aren’t looking or sex with someone you just met in hopes that they will say I love you back and mean it? Yes, I’m fat….thanks for noticing. Now…what else can you see?
Now that I have your attention… welcome. The taboo sentiments that circle around the topic of homosexuality are enough to make me torch the nearest discriminating heterosexual with rainbow gasoline. Seriously, no matter what you think of the topic ,no one civil right should be trumped by one’s disapproval of another’s civil rights. Point, Blank, Period!
NOTICE: If you read this.. LEAVE A NOTE DANGIT!!! W/ your rude behind!
~*2Deep*~ Uncensored! 