Oprah’s 200 Men

Okay…..I know I am months, upon months late….but it took some time and some courage for me to finally get the nerve to actually watch this.

As a female who was molested by her own father, I can only imagine what it could feel like for a male to feel like he had to keep the secret of being abused, in any fashion.  In my blogs The House My Father Built and a Molestation Survivor Speaks….you can catch a glimpse of my struggle. And even after speaking to my biological father in NOvember for the first time in 15 years….he told me that I made it all up in my mind and that I was brainwashed by family members. WHO DOES THAT?!!!!!!!! He couldn’t face the fact that he was a perverted bastard who once molested his own sister and then continued with me…..he had to attempt to make me feel stupid and as if it was my fault. I refuse to own that, but it is very hard for me shake this part of my past; I don’t even know if I am supposed to.

So I recorded this on my DVR months ago and something is now telling me to watch it….on this EASTER Sunday( I know this is not when you will read this…but it is when I wrote it). Something is about to be resurrected….hopefully the real me. I feel safe enough to watch this. It is time for me to face this beast….and what better way than to watch this episode of Oprah and possibly help some other people.

Now, I didn’t watch the Tyler Perry Episode… I guess I should find a copy of it….but I will deal with what I have thus far.

Take 2 in 5, 4, 3, 2, 2, 2, 2, #Heal

Colored Girl vs For Colored Girls:A Review, Part 1

                              VS.                     

5 Nov 10, Noon EST

         For Colored Girls and I go back like hot combs on stoves, with everyone in the kitchen disguised as the family’s beauty parlor. Before I knew that “being black” meant that I was the Lady in Brown , by default, eternally. Before when pink use to be my favorite color, got sick of it and traded up to Purple because I discovered that I was a child of the royal Most High. Before when everyone called me Lady or Auntie Purple, while my house quietly went from Barney’s condo to Eve’s atonement for defiance just because I felt that way. Before I realized that red and blue make Purple and I may very well just be all three or the fact that those two make a whole me. You see, I am a Colored Girl. I’ve always been a colored girl. Long before I graced a stage senior year in High School to perform Lady in Blue’s signature “Sorry” piece…..I was just another Colored Girl who refused to be JUST another Colored Girl.  I was the Lady in Red attaching notes to potted plants after realizing that I couldnt truly use sex as a toy like the boys but did so anyway still longing to be touched by him, by…..somebody with a pulse. Or I was the Lady in Yellow who was the ONLY virgin amongst my friends at graduation who had to pretend like I was working with something…all the while not knowing what that something was. And definately before green became my second favorite color because I liked the way it looked next to purple, the contrast was to insure that nobody ” could almost walk off with all of my stuff“; I’d had that happened one time too many and wasnt letting it happen again. Just like I dont know if I want to let this movie happen. Well, I didnt at first, but now I dont know. Lets just say, to say that I am afraid to watch this film, yet ecstatic at its existence….is a bit like me saying that I am kinda pregnant, its true but doesnt make much sense in the scheme of things.

        Ntozake Shange is staring at me from the back cover of the book that I have had since 1998 when I purchased it from Borders. My co-workers, this morning, all mentioned how well-kept and new the book looks. I told them all that I have to take care of my books just in case I wanted to return the book to the store. But I didn’t have the strength to tell them, both African-American women, that I didn’t want to taint the image of the beautiful woman on the cover who I wished I had the courage to look like. I want to be able to rock my headwraps to work in my office without problems, or being deemed unprofessional. I want to be a Colored Girl at all times and not only when it is deemed appropriate. And with all that said…..I still can’t bring myself to bend back the cover while reading….or tell them that the real reason was because…….I don’t want to force the Colored Girl on the cover to bend over backwards for me.

        The backdrop behind her tearful face, the woman on the cover, seems to be that of a bathroom tile. How ironic that ever since I can remember the bathroom has been my safe haven. I feel safe in there and private in there, and sometimes still til this day I go and sit and cry in there. “Dark phrases of womanhood of never having been a girl”….It is almost a temple that people are just expected to leave you alone. The bathroom was the one place where I was left undisturbed, un-molested, un-attacked, and able to be at peace with myself. And as I ponder about who could this image have been modeled after, this amazing woman…..I wonder why God chose for the tile to be such a presence. And I, for the life of me…cant fight the feeling that I have…this urge to want to shout that I look like the woman on the old cover….I dont look like Janet. Taking nothing away from her beauty… but honey, Janet doesnt even look like Janet. So how can I cling to this rapid pace of change that has been forced upon me? DO I have to? How can I go back and erase the years drawn around this image, this source of inspiration that helped me through my adoloescent years?

        This work of art spoke to me when my high school theatre teacher introduced the book to me so that I may memorize some pieces for a monologue. I was entering into the Walter Trumbauer Festival in 1998. I did the festival every year and my senior year in high school would be no different. But wow, how was a young 17-year-old girl supposed to choose from so many wonderful monologues? For weeks I memorized poem, after poem, after poem because I had rationalized that they were all me and I could capitalize by entering the Monologue, Poetry Interpretation, and Silent Partner competition.  But who would have known that I would have broken up with my high school sweetheart just weeks before the competition? It must have been an act of GOD! Because the last thing that he said to me before walking away was “sorry”.

        You guessed it! I became the Lady in Blue. I memorized and worked on this piece and saw his face for days on end until I sometimes forgot that other people were in the class when I rehearsed. This was written just for me. It became my therapy, my way of speaking without having to tell my own business….I got to hide behind the performance in plain sight. It was beautiful. I won 3 FIRST place trophies that year, and they still are out in my house today some 12 years later. I also got the opportunity to perform the “Sorry” piece in front of the entire school in an assembly to showcase those of us who won at the festival. I found my ex in the crowd sitting next to his sloppy ass new girlfriend ( I NEVER liked that trick) and I performed it directly to him. It was my apology for thinking that he was someone worth my time. I was finally sorry; sorry for having wasted my time. (And for those who have read my Advice from the Other Woman blog here on this site….you know that I wasnt done…yet). It was so dramatic. He sat directly under one of the overhead lights in the theatre and I could point him out in the crowd. My performance would be the talk of the school for weeks because everyone knew that I was talking about his ass! But this year when I finally got tired of his sorries…. I walked away for good, forever…because “I couldnt stand being sorry and colored at the same time”. I had come full circle. I had finally received what I sought for this piece to deliver me from all those years ago. I had found the answer before I could ever understand the problem. It had been confirmed, this play was for ME!!!

        So, who is this movie for? Is it for colored girls who have baptized this play and deemed it their Bible when Zane novels aren’t enuf? Or for colored girls who pray that he (Tyler Perry) doesn’t fuck up our Holy Grail when Why Did I Get Married Too? and Medea’s Great Big Family were enuf? I am afraid to find out. Just from the commercial, the first time I saw it I was captivated and amazed that all of these amazing women were going to be in MY play!!! Who was going to play me? Who was going to tell my story. And then I saw it, the snippet of Janet doing the intro to “Sorry”. BUT WHY WAS SHE IN A RED DRESS?!  That is the Lady in Blue’s SIGNATURE piece… I can’t get past that. I can’t fathom how you could be so careless and I immediately began to get enraged. I was no longer a Colored girl but a Color-ed girl feeling as if this commercial has just thrown bleach on my favorite blue Prada dress! WHERE WAS MY BLUE!!!? I was already upset. I literally ran to my bookshelf and hugged the book and began to cry. Yes, I sound psycho…but you don’t understand…..this is my LIFE that Tyler is playing with. Who were these men in an all woman’s play? Would I feel as if too much had been done to such a sacred script?  Or should I be glad that at least all of these black women were employed? No matter what, I couldn’t shake the feeling that a street graffiti artist had come along and added a few of his homeboys to Da Vinci’s Last Supper and they were depicted stealing food from Mary’s, I mean Peter’s, plate. Or was I taking it too far?

Did I not have the right to prejudge? Was I not justified in thinking that the absence of real men in the play made me internalize what was being depicted on stage, force me to visualize myself in one of those colors? Or was I wrong for not giving it a chance? Or was I upset that another sacred piece of black art was being brought mainstream, mainstream….and possibly amongst “mixed company”? I felt the same way about Good Hair.  But this was Lauryn Hill killing me softly but showing up 3 hours late to do it kind of confusion.

        So, today, I brought the book with me to work. After reviewing it this week from cover to cover and having purchased my tickets Monday in advance…thanks Fandango!….I think I am ready to see the movie. I dont know what to expect. But I think I am ready to have an opinion. So, Dressed in all black , brown skin with a touch of Red….my colors of choice today…..I have 4 hours left……..I’ll tell you what I think. And If I’m wrong….. I’ll apologize

~*Check out Part 2 for My Critique*~

Sincerely,

~*My Mother’s Daughter*~

P90X Journey: Day 5

So, I forgot to write about this last night, but I did exercise. SO here is the short version

Legs & Back:

Balance Lunges: 15 (lt), 15 (t)

Calf Raise Squats: 25 (ft), 25 (rt)

Reverse Grip Chin-ups: 16

Super Skater: 25 each

Wall Squat: The full time

Wide Front Pull-ups: 22 ( Heavy Resistance bands)

Step Back Lunge: 20 each side ( Heavy Resistance bands)

Alternating Side Lunges: 24 (Medium Resistance Bands)

Closed Grip Overhead Pull-ups: 20 (Heavy Resistance Bands)

Single Leg Wall Squat: 1 minute ( I was up just a little higher than 90 degrees)

Dead Lift Squat: 20 each ( left leg used the toe tap)

Switch Grip Pull-ups: 30

3 Way Lunges: 5 rounds each side

Sneaky Lunges: 20 ( dropped twice)

Reverse Grip Chin-ups: 20 (Heavy Resistance Bands)

Chair Salutations: Stopped with 2 seconds left

Toe-Roll Iso Lunge: 20 each side

Wide Front Pull-ups: 20

Groucho Walk: Full time

Calf Raises: Full time

Closed Grip Overhead Pull-ups: 20

80-20 Siebers Speed Squats: 30 all /each

Switch Grip: 20 ( 10 each direction)

Ab Ripper X:

In & Outs: 25

Bicycles: 25

Reverse Bicycles: 25 (but I was leaning back on my elbows) 

Crunchy Frog: 25 (I had 2 breaks but I did 16 straight before my first break)

Wide leg Situps: 25 (I had 1 break but did 14 straight before my first break)

Fifer Scissors: 25 (w/ 1 break , did them like Bicycles instead of straight leg. Did 15 straight before my first break)

Hip Rock & Raises: 25 ( w/ 1 break and I did 15 straight before my fist break)

Pulse Ups: 25 ( no BREAKS!!! w/ bent knees)

V-up/Roll up: 25 (w/ 1 break. I did 7 combos before I took a break, the rest were single roll ups)

Oblique V-ups: 25 each side w/o a break!! (I realized arm placement was  wrong & made adjustment) 

Leg Climb: 10 on each leg ( right leg is tight and I struggled) 

Mason twist: 16 ( 8 reps before each breaks. Total of 2 breaks) I stopped because I was light-headed and didn’t eat.

I did them all!!! I was pretty proud of myself. And even though I stumbled or had to take breaks in between some of the reps, I was determined to make up for my Yoga failure. I told myself that no matter what, I would have to finish the reps, even iff I had to pause the video and take a quick break. I have to keep that mentality. I cannot stop.

I didn’t feel well today but I made sure that I exercised just the same. I took it at my own pace…but I finished. There was no excuse from me to hide behind.

I was speaking to a coworker about the program and I had to admit to a few things. I told he that this program has already made me have one breakthrough. While working out, you notice your weaknesses. And if you are honest with yourself, you begin to get mad at yourself for not being fit enough to finish the tasks. The next step that came to mind was the fact of , ” how did I get this way?” No one made me eat the Doritos that made my thighs so heavy that I can’t hold them up for this Crunchy Frog, that was all my doing.  And THAT was the point of me breaking down in tears. Me realizing that I had done this too myself. I was the reason I was sitting here unhealthy, out of shape, and full of anger at MYSELF for not backing away from the table sooner, for not walking more steps in a  day, for being lazy fo no damn reason other than the fact that I just didn’t feel like being active. And then I hit the breaking point. What were the real causes behind me not giving a damn. I couldn’t face it. I couldn’t bring myself to admit to that part and I choked, broke out in tears and begin to promise myself that I would begin the healing process……all of this just because I wouldn’t freaking workout.

No other trainer, no gym membership, not fitness buddies could ever make me hit this threshold. Why P90X? Why was it now that made me break down? My mind was finally in the right place for me to stick to a fitness program, to blog about it to become honest about my habits. But why now? Why was my underlying past and secrets that caused me to each for therapy finally making me cry at the thought of push ups? I guess I will never know.

Sincerely,

~*My Mother’s Daughter*~

P90X Journey: Day 4 (Yoga)

There are not enough cuss words in the English dictionary for me to express how I feel about this entire session. I was actually excited about working out. I dont do Yoga, I dont like Yoga, yet I was ready to do this workout. THIS SHIT IS BORING AS HELL!!!!

First off, this workout is like an hour and a half!!!!! What happened to the one hour sessions? That messed with my mental stamina to begin with. Then having nothing to face but my breathing and Tony Horton’s voice is like death. I don’t sit still long enough in my room to hear myself think and yet they want me to do it while struggling? I beg to differ dear crackheads of Beach Body!!!!

I made it on and off to about 43 minutes left in the program before I got up and answered a phone call from my homegirl. Just bored. Then I joined back in for the core/balancing exercises and found those familiar. Well I be damn……it was because it wasnt familiar. Wow…. just typed that into realization. But the strange part cam when I just busted into tears in the middle of the half boat. I mean full-out baby bawling. And in the middle I mumbled to myself that I deserve to be able to do this, I want to be able to do this. I think I just had my first fitness breakthrough.

The other workouts keep me moving, keep me motivated and keep me so busy that I don’t really think about me. Yoga showed me my weakness and I dont like it. It hurt my pride and made me face the fact that I am out of shape. That reality sucks butt like Pookie looking for a fix. I think this was just the first of many to come. I will have to force myself on the next Yoga day to push through every position…every pose, every salutation. I just want to succeed at this. I am afraid of failing at Yoga…of all things, YOGA! Fudge your Nomaste! Okay, that was a bit harsh. How about. Nom dat hoe, rang dat hooooooe!

Okay, all jokes aside. This just made me vulnerable. I make a vow that next Yoga day I will do EVERY pose. Even if I have to do the variation or modified version….I will have to bring it. I originally felt that this was a fail….but I got something out of it. I came face to face with both failure and success all in the middle of a workout. The fear of failing at another fitness program and the possibility of succeeding and becoming fit and facing my fears of being just another fit girl. But that is an entirely different blog.

Well, let me get dressed and head out to The Park with my crew….take my mind off of this. I also need food…lol. Thanks for reading. I needed to vent. Better luck tomorrow.