~*2Deep*~

Posts Tagged ‘hurt’

Single Ladies~ Table for 1

In Take 2: Film/TV Reviews on 30 May 2011 at 11:06 pm

Episode 1: Table for 1

I know absolutely NOTHING about the plot of this show other than it is called Single Ladies, Stacey Dash, Lisa Raye and some random white girl are the stars and I just pray that Beyoncé’s Single Ladies does NOT show up anywhere in this entire show. I think this may be a 2 hour premiere, but don’t quote me

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

Okay, sooooo the opening scene about how a man can get away with acceptable nasty versus just plain oldnasty. lol. LMAO!!!!  And yes, I agree… a woman already knows if a guy is gonna get to “hit it” when she first meets him.  I also agree with the fact that a guy knows when he is going to marry a woman in the first 15 minutes of meeting her.

So, Val (Stacey Dash) is in a 5 year relationship with Quinton and he has yet to propose to her. Hmmm…. but at least she just opened up her own clothing store. DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYUM!!!! Val just told Q that she compromised by being in a relationship with him!!! And sidebar in my moment. WHAT THE HELL DOES STACEY DO TO STAY LOOKING LIKE A 25-YEAR-OLD COLLEGE STUDENT!!!!!? Oh nooooooooooooooooooooooooooo, she did not cliché this scene!!! She broke out with Beyoncé’s “if you like it then you need to put a ring on it”! No, you NEVER give a man an ultimatium!! You give him the power when you do that!!! If he don’t put a ring on it, he doesnt like you….pack it up and keep it moving.

Wait, out of all of the guys that they could have picked for Lisa Raye…. they picked THIS weird looking dude? Now, the opening to their bedroom scene was kinky, classy and sexy all at the same time. And yes!!!!!! Keisha (Lisa Raye) just kicked old dude out of her bed and made him go home at 4am. lol. Hilarious!!! And did he just say that he was short on cab money, too? Ummm… too much good dick in the world for me to settle on a broke dude with good dick. Okay, wait, sooo who is this dark handsome dude on the phone? HOT DAYUM!!! He is fine. As soon as I can remember Malcolm’s real name…lol…like the actor who plays him. *wipes forehead. Waiiiiiiiiiiit! So, Keisha likes white clothing too? Ummm, isnt that bringing TOO MUCH of Lisa Raye into the role? *Sigh* Don’t make me pre-judge this please.

LMAO!!! Did that dude just tell Keisha that her booty doesnt bounce like it use to? lmao! LMAO!!! He said “You’re reinventing and what is Cam’ron doing…..recycling?” lmao! Okay, soooooo Keisha USE to be a back-up video vixen and then she retired, but if going to do a cameo in a Cam’ron video?

Okay, so EVE is guest-starring too? She is the only investor in Val’s store?

And who is April suppose to be? The Kelly (The Game) of this show? Just asking? And where can I get these naked men to take care of my girls and I? And can someone please teach the guy that is on Val to give a proper massage…… even in this camera shot I can tell that he is fucking her shoulder up!

Sidebar:The acting is surface and I am trying my hardest to get past the buildup of the back history…..but pray with me that this gets better. Lawd! Please don’t let me judge it

Sooooooo, who is Lauren London playing, I mean… besides someone’s fiancee? But SOMETHING is telling me that Lauren’s fiance is……….DAMN! I couldnt even get it out fast enough!!!! Q!!!!! But wait, did he not know where Val’s store was located because she bought it before they broke up? Ummmm…. they lost me in believability!

Can someone tell me what it is that April & Keisha do? I ask because Val seems to be the only one with a true profession.

Now, who is Jasmine and why is she giving Keisha the stank eye? Ohhhh so, Jasmine is the SuperHead of this show since she is writing a tell-all book. Wait….. Jasmine…. is that Kim Porter? Diddy’s children’s mother…or mother of his children? Well I be damned!

LMao!!! K.C. is kind of cute.  & Dione is fugly….lol. But I think that K.C. and Val would make a great couple. But…. that is just my opinion. AND he owns the tattoo shop! AND he turned Val into a freak!!!! lol. Damn, she called him back after hours and they got it on in her shop? Ewwwwww Coochie Stain Couture!!! lol.

HAHAHAH!!! Keisha cooked Malcolm breakfast! lmao!!! That was priceless! But I do love the Tango that the two of them are having over the power of this relationship.

Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaait! So, K.C. was a good guy and you chalk him up to a one-night stand and then you beg Q to come over for “closure”? Girl… let that lite bright negro go! Dayum… she called him by his entire name. Quinton Andre Davis….lol. Ummm…. I know she’s not wearing a bra… but umm… I pray she is rocking at least a thong in this see-through dress. Wait, Q came back to console her? And sexual consoling it is! lmao! This cheating son of a bitch! But dayum he is fine once that shirt came off!!! I love it when a man has the lower back dimples…shit!

NOW CHilli?!!!!!!! LMAO!!!! The dude talking about Phil in the background almost made me pee myself!!!

WHo is this short fucker dancing off beat in this club scene? The one in the tan suit to the left of the screen? And speaking of color… this is the most I have seen on Lisa Raye since Player’s Club. Wait… soooo Common is playing the mayor and the WHITE GIRL IS GETTING THAT TOO?! Yes, Common can get it….lol. Dayum, Malcolm walked up in the club with another female? hmmmm.  OUCH!!! “Children brag, call me when you want to find out what women do.”~Keisha.  Oh wait… so the other woman with Malcolm is Jasmine…the ex-dancer?

Soooooo Jasmine needs her ass whooped for blackmailing Keisha. K.C. is on the good side of stalking. Good to know that guys can come back and be the good guy too.  HOOOOOOOOLD up!!!! Val may be pregnant!!!!? Okay, Jermaine Dupree, Kandi too? Sooooo is this the ATL hangout? lmao! I swear if i see any of the Atlanta Housewives on here I’m screaming!

EWWWWWWWWWW! Who carries pregnancy tests in their purses? Trick you peed on that! Oh, so Q is a basketball player? Hmmm… interesting.  BITCH, GET OFF COMMON!!!!

Ummm… this Cam’ron vid looks like one of his real vids….lol. AND Noooooooo Keisha is not stealing while on the set out of Cam’ron’s trailer!!!!!! Okay, that was too damn bold and for no damn reason! He is just a straight up klepto! First he gets robbed in D.C. and now in Atlanta….lmao! This negro needs better security! lmao!

LMAO!!! K.C. said “I’m not John Mayer, I date all women of different colors in the bedroom”. OUCH!!! He said “my mom watches Oprah” when asked how his parents respond to his interracial dating.  I love his character. So far, he is the only one that I can connect to.

I find the fact that Darryl is with a white woman HILARIOUS because the actor was in this movie…. that for the life of me I cant remember the name of it. But the premise was that he would only date white women until he found this eclectic black girl….lol.  Oh snap! It was called I’m Through With White Girls lmao! And you mean to tell me that the Mayor would risk his career in public like that.

Soooooooooooooooooooooo Keisha stole so that Jasmine would take her out of her book? I would have worn a wire just to cover my own tracks with that chick. She now has true evidence to black mail Keisha with now. Shame.

HOLD THE FUCK UP!!! This just got juicy!! Q came up in Val’s house because Darryl told him that April blurted out to him that Val is pregnant! And he said she isn’t having it, nor is she getting any of his money! This nigga here! You weren’t worried about your fiancée when you were having sex with Val. Girl….. I’d blackmail his tall, fine ass all the way to the bank with this one!

Daaaaaaaaaamn! So, actually, Keisha stole the watch from Cam’ron but Cam’ron was too broke to own the piece so he was borrowing it from Malcolm and sooooooo she actually stole from Malcolm and he is pissed! And HELL NAWL! He did not throw a black woman in the pool! But I do love how Keisha is playing hard to get!

Awww Val had to give the Jag back because she couldnt afford it. Hmmm. I had a problem with her throwing the keys for Keisha and April to drive it. I wouldnt let my own dad drive my Expedition after my graduation.  I love you dad, but you didnt chip in….annnnnnd you despise 20 inch rims any way…lol. But I guess I should have let him drive it since he let me push his Benz….lmao. But, that’s in the past.

And I just want to punch April in her clavicle for cheating on a black man who is trying to make their marriage work. Hell, for cheating on ANY man that wants to make their marriage work. Shame… just a plain shame! Ugh!

Okay, soooooooooo DAYUM!!!!! The dude that ran through them while they were walking in the park is FINE!!! I miss home! I miss how we make ’em down south.  And Val isnt pregnant? And the way that she just played Q is right up my alley!!! lol. HILARIOUS!!!! Funny couldnt capture that. Classy with a tinge of ghetto but on point.

Ummmm, so Lauren’s character said that she gets engaged a lot? Umm… and the mayor is cheating with another white chick? lmao!!!! funny. And so, is Lauren apart of the cast now?

Okay… it started off slow…. looks like Sex in the City for black girls, and yet it picked up in the second hour. So, I really think that I could learn to like this show. My ONLY prayer…. Dear Lord, please don’t let me Let’s Stay Together  this show. Y’all KNOW I hated that show… so dear God don’t let me hate this show. Other than that…. let’s get the party poppin’!

Sincerely,

~*My Mother’s Daughter*~

200 Men Said….Liars, and Fires, and Men….Oh MY!

In 200 Men Said.... on 15 March 2011 at 12:02 am

        If you read my post yesterday about Marsha Ambrosius’ I Hope She Cheats On You, then you should be more than well prepared to know what today’s blog will be about. You guessed it; Cheating! Well, not just cheating in general but all of the things that hurt people do to others while in a relationship.

        You know the drill; boy meets girl, boy sleeps with girl, boy cheats on girl, girls gets even, girl sleeps with best friend, etc, etc, etc. Yeh. If you are above the age of 16 and have a single cool bone in your body then you know exactly what I am talking about. Sorry, this blog is not for the 40 year-old virgins who play Scrabble by themselves while watching reruns of Golden Girls in their studio apartments. NO, this is for the cool kids who know how to get even. Those kids who actually got asked out on dates and thought it was a privilege. The same kids who would soon find out that we are in an age where no one knows how to date or even respect themselves, yet alone how to protect someone else! Yes, those kids.

       I, dear friends, was one of THOSE kids. The cool kid that experienced every wrong in the book. I’m one of the divas with the sunroof open, windows do, and blaring I Hope She Cheats On You. No hurt feelings, just vindication at its finest, displayed beautifully by Marsha’s amazing talents.

       So, as usual, i wanted to know…or even see for that matter…what my 200 men thought on the matter. I wanted to first see what they would admit to doing. So I asked them:

What was the WORSE thing, as a man, that you have ever done to a woman while in a relationship?

 

And the answers that followed were:

  • MR. LOVING: I can’t find anything that I can recall! [2deep: Suuuuuuuure! lol]
  •  Carlos V: cheated
  •  ! Robert D (S4D (S-4411): GAVE MY HEART [2deep:  OUCH!!!!!]
  •  Boozer101: cheated… she didn’t find out but just the same.. that’s the worse thing I’ve ever done
  •  Lighta: Revenge cheat would have to be the worst thing.
  • JAY D:  Cheat on her
  •  Nigi “Pistol Star” Pu Yi: The 5th [2Deep:  I have a feeling that there will be a ton of this….lol]
  • Patrick:  Not giving the affection she needed or deserved. [2Deep:  You do know that this is worse than cheating, right?]
  •  Lateef25: maybe i wasnt honest
  • Juan D: smashed her friend. [2deep: Hope it itched….lol]
  •  Code Name Bigsexy: lol ill have to use my fifth amendment on that 1 [2Deep: You already told me… so I know…lmao! I just wont post it.]
  • DSMILEY1: Had sex with a girl while my girlfriend at the time was next door to a friend’s house. I WAS JUST STUPID AT THE TIME BUT NEVER WILL DO IT AGAIN [2Deep:  JUST STUPID!!! I hope you caught something. Oh wait, you didnt do this to me….never mind…lmao]
  •  Parrish M: I couldn’t say that I was a man at the time more like an adult male. I put my hands on a woman before. [2deep: Check out my Blog About D.O.C……..yeh]
  • rroyallty: hmm. not sure. maybe break up with her
  • Johann J: I cheated on her with her best friend and her best friends cousin. A real young and dumb move. [2Deep: Just a regular overachiever, aren’t we?]
  • Robert P: Wasn’t there for her when she needed me most
  • Tori A: Cheated on her [2Deep:  Let me guess… you cheated….lmao!]
  • James F: had sex with her cousin or kickin her out the car and she had to find a another way home [2Deep:  I’m ready to come whoop your ass my damn self. WHO DOES THAT SHIT?!]
  •  kuerby E: cheat…..
  •  Ryu C-Keyz:  probably cussed her out and walked off for the night. Hey, I’m the type you snap at me, I snap back. I don’t sit back and take it.
  •  Allen Ozark:  nothing. I am the world’s last remaining humanist and a perfect gentleman. i have a universal dimmer switch that only works one way – brighter and brighter – wear your shades baby, wear your shades. [2deep: *side eye* *raised eyebrow*]
  • Terrance L:  cheated sexy, what about you as a woman in a relationship [2Deep:  Negro, this isn’t about me…lol]
  •  Mr. U. G. Bilbo: The worse thing I’ve done was flirted with another woman and got her number while my girlfriend was around me
  •  Ed M:  talk back; being a smart ass [2Deep: Was this your mother? lmao….you are allowed to be a smart ass.]
  •  Mr.Swaggtastikal:  I LIED AND TOLD MY EX THAT I WAS STILL WORKING WHEN I KNEW I GOT FIRED…. [2deep: It wasnt so bad to be fired… it’s the fact that you lied that made it bad. CONFESS MAN!!!]
  • *~ MR SPONTANEOUS ~PEACE*!!: Betrayed her by not telling her i was still legally married but has been separated for over a year….. [2Deep: I shall remain silent…..but know I am thinking something]
  • ~Taylor Gang~Jay Kahlifa:  cheat….and that was the biggest mistake i ever made in my life [2Deep:  I’m sorry… the bitter bitches couldn’t hear you. Could you please speak up. lol]
  • 6’5 & NICE WIT IT: GAVE THE DUMMY A CHANCE TO BE IN A RELATIONSHIP [2Deep:  Playing devil’s advocate here… but what does that make you for giving the chance? lmao! j/k]
  • corey: fake the big O.lol [2Deep:  Can guys even do this? WHY? I applaud you for evening admitting it. lmao!]
  • Ddouble R: put [her] out of my car with her bags in tow at the Maryland house. [2deep: *Researches Marland House…… YOU DROPPED HER OFF AT A REST STOP LOCATED IN THE CENTER OF I-95?!!!!!! I HOPE YOU GET HIT BY TRAFFIC!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! *wooosah* Okay… this was in the distant past…. I hope.)
        Okay… so there are a ton of cheating guys running around. KEEP HOPE ALIVE LADIES!!!! *Turns on Disney movies* I mean really… I was done at a guy admitting to faking an orgasm. I mean… what purpose would that serve? Did she find out that he faked the orgasm? Did you tell her that you came? How horrible was she sexually that you had to fake it? Was she ugly? Was she loose and you found out one it was time to lay it down and it turned you off? DId you fake it to speed up the process? Oh shit, I am way off topic… .but that one stumped me. lmao
 
        Also, I see that there are a ton of simple bitches walking along the highway. It would have been a Chris Brown Rhianna situation going on in that car if a negro EVER tells me that I have to get out and walk. He would have to physically put me out and then I am pressing charges and causing a scene. Who does that?!!!! *blood boiling* I know I asked for honesty…. but damn it I got it. Just ticks me off. So… to help me get over this part, I asked them to tell me this:
What was one of the WORST things that a female has done to you while in a relationship? How did it make you feel?

See ladies, I was fair….lol. The fellas said:

  • Tyrone E: Let her brother who was on drugs steal money and property from and protect him and say ‘o u know he got a problem” I was pissed and that is why she is an ex today
  • K-LUST THE WILDEST MOUTH!: HAVE MY DAUGHTER AROUND ANOTHER MAN! IT MADE ME WANNA KNOCK BOTH OF EM OUT!
  • !James!:  She went back to her ex, she say it was for the kids. She wanted me to stay in the background. I did and eventually she left him for her safety. It’s harder to trust, I keep 1 eye open at all times.
  • ”DUKE” BANNER: I WAS DOING OFF SHORE OIL RIGGING AND WHEN I LEAVE THIS SCOUNDREL WOULD BRING A JOE TO THE HOUSE I WAS MORE ASHAME BECAUSE ALL HE DID WAS DRINK STAYED WITH HIS MOTHER TALKING ABOUT SHE GOT HI AND SHE KNEW HIM AND IT STARTED FROM THERE
  • Tony Raymond **CANDIDA whores me**:  Cheat but i just come to learn ALL sexes knows what they WANT but never what they NEED…even if your mouth say you need this or that because they always go after what they want…
  • Tori A:  cheated on me w/ someone I [thought] was a good friend
  • DJ Urban Cowboy: My most recent ex took my phone and decided to rummage through my txts… Big no no in my book.
  • Kip S:  Forget my birthday after being in a relationship with me for over a year.

 

       You know what they say… hurt people, hurt people. Yes, some of this is funny to read, but it still doesn’t make ANY of it right. At what point are people going to be honest with themselves about what they want, what they need, and what the other person is offering. I think if hoes would admit to being hoes they could find each other. There are sugar daddies out there for the gold diggers, but leave the good boys and girls alone. Stick to your own kind. It is just point less for all of this to go on. We are just creating more hurt people all the while wondering why you can’t find a good one. YEs, I am prepared to fuck the chick(s) up who dare hurts my future husband… I will hunt you down! lol. TRY ME!

Okay, this is getting depressing, but it was an interesting write-up. Hope you enjoyed…. on to the next one.

Sincerely,

~*My Mother’s Daughter*~

Lyrically Speaking~ Marsha Ambrosius: I Hope She Cheats on You

In Lyrically Speaking on 14 March 2011 at 12:22 am

        Bitter bitches around the world could be heard slamming keypads to a point of no return as they Googled, Rhapsody searched, and iTunes bought Marsha Ambrosius’ ” I Hope She Cheats on You” from her album Late Nights and Early Mornings. Beyoncé’s “Put a Ring On It” deemed archaic…. I mean who wants that motherfucker now? NOT I!!! No, this song became the 2010 anthem as women purchased court side seats for their men as they pointed out just how nice Dwayne Wade’s ass looks in the middle of a lay-up.  Comments of  “I wonder if LeBron can take it to the hole for real” taunt him during half time. Yes, bitches!!! THIS IS WHY WE WATCH BASKETBALL!!!! Sports Center will never be the same. *Duh-nuh-nuh, Duh-nuh-nuh! lmao!

        I can see it now, Half-Time show brought to you by Bitter Bitches of America and sponsored by Midol. Performance by Marsha Ambrosius. All you hear are the snaps to the intro and out come these hooded figures snapping into formation, reminiscent of the Egyptian dancers in MJ’s Remember the Time. No one’s face is seen but Marsha as the formation is made behind her as she stands center court under a sole spotlight. All you can hear through the arena is:

Verse 1:
Ew whew ew whew oh oh
I hope she cheat on you wit’ a basketball playa.
Hope that she Kim Kardashian’ed her way up.
Don’t know the difference ‘tween a touchdown and a layup.
Got you on Viagra in order for you to stay up.

Pre-chorus:
I may sound bitter, I’m a little bitter, just a little bitter because you were wit’ her.
I’m Salt Lake City, now I’m up on out the picture.
Remember how it was when I was wit’ cha baby?
[Cues for mysterious dancers to drop their hoods]

Sex so good, do you remember oh baby? Sex so good do you remember oh?

        CROWD GOES WILD!!!!  Hoods are flipped back and Shaunie O’Neal can be seen leading Royce’s choreography! Yes, that’s right people…the entire cast of Basketball Jump-offs, I mean Wives, are center court, booty popping to their new ceremonial anthem! Being careful not to slip on their own tears, glass of water, wine or beverage of choice that has been thrown Evelyn-syle as a symbolic statement of I HATE YOU BITCH, TRY ME. They are in perfect harmony  as the chorus breaks out amongst the arena speakers.

Chorus:
Well look at how it all turned out now.
I hope she cheat on you with a basketball playa.
Look at how it all turned out now.
I hope you feeling lonely baby now we’re not together.
Look at how it all turned out now.
I hope she cheat on you with a basketball playa.
Look at how it all turned out now.
Ew now that I’m without cha.

        Aw shit! Just when you couldn’t get enough of Gloria’s “That’s What’s Up” wrist twists and Jennifer’s forehead…not to be outdone, on runs the cast of The Game to show these bitches how it is really done! Go Tasha! It’s ya Birthday! Call Pookie! Go Pow, Pow! Go Janay, It’s Ya baby’s Daddy! Work It Med School! Work it! Work it! Get Low Kelly, like your bank funds! lmao Yes, Jazz choreographed this portion of the great display of bitter bitches! DO THE TSUNAMI!!!!

Verse 2:
I hope she cheat on you wit an NFL baller.
She ignores you every single time you call her.
Brand new Louis, gotta have it spend your money on her.
When you wanna hit it she actin’ like she don’t wanna.

Pre-chorus:
I may sound bitter, I’m a little bitter, just a little bitter because you were wit’ her.
I’m Salt Lake City, now I’m up on out the picture.
Remember how it was when I was wit’ cha baby?
Sex so good, do you remember oh baby? Sex so good do you remember oh? (Baby)

 

        Then they all join together as if Disney knew that this would be a musical. The cast from Glee! just itching in their seats to get up and join in a higher octave; judgment spewing from their eyes as if to say “Sit down , bitches, and let the professionals do it.” But it has already continued without them. This is Annette Funicello meets Lena Horne in Baldwin Hills directed by Tyler Perry. It is classic SNL Tom foolery in the key of broken-hearted! ENTERTAINMENT PEOPLE!!!! And a 5, 6, 7, 8,…..

Chorus:
Well look at how it all turned out now.
I hope she cheat on you with a basketball playa.

Look at how it all turned out now.
Hope you feeling lonely baby now we’re not together.
Look at how it all turned out now.
I hope she cheat on you with a basketball playa.
Look at how it all turned out now.
Ew now that I’m without cha.

 

        And true to Chorus Line form, they each take turns accenting a line from the hook as banners of who did them wrong are dropped from the arena ceiling along with Kim Kardashian’s pic just because the bitch made the song hot. And no one argues about her placement in the song because its true. And she could care less as long as the check clears! With a 1 and a 2 and…..

Hook:
She cute and all, but that won’t last forever.
What I had for you was so much better.
Yeah the grass ain’t greener on the other side of town.
Now look at how it all turned out now.
I’m a little bitter, just a little bitter.
But I’m doing better, ’cause we ain’t together.
You sorry excuse for somebody I was into.
Remember what it was when I was wit’ you?

Chorus:
Look at how it all turned out now.
I hope she cheat on you with a basketball playa.
Look at how it all turned out now.
Hope you feeling lonely baby now we’re not together.
Look at how it all turned out now.
I hope she cheat on you with a basketball playa. (so sad cheated on you wit’ a basketball playa)
Look at how it all turned out now.
Now that I’m without cha baby.

  

        And for the closing finale, their children run out on the court doing the stanky leg while their divorce lawyers throw business cards into the crowd via the t-shirt shooter. They all start to do the dramatic , yet sexy slow walk with finger snaps off the court as Marsha  ad libs. And just as they hit the exit, you can see Juanita Jordan giving high fives to the women as they head back to the dressing room where security can protect them from their exes……lmao. NeNe Leaks can be seen trying to get an interview from the sidelines.

Ad-libs:
Yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah) heeeeyyyy yeah (x2)
Yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah) saaaannnnggg yeah
Yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah) Sing
(I hope she cheat on you)
I hope she cheat on you wit’ a basketball playa yeah.
Hope you feelin’ lonely now we’re not together baby.
Said I hope she cheat on you baby.

 

Yes….. this is how I envision it. This is how my head works. Dont judge me… you’re just mad because you didn’t think of it first! But serioiusly…. I am so glad that Marsha is back…and boy did she come back with a bang! You better believe that I am going to come back and review Far Away! This diva has us all wishing evil on our exes and his new girl…lol. But done so with a powerful voice that demands you pay attention and listen. Job well done, diva… I have NOTHING bad to say about this song.

Sincerely,

~*My Mother’s Daughter*~

 

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2011 DMV Awards: Coonstastically Coonerific! Pt2

In Lyrically Speaking on 7 March 2011 at 12:42 pm

        So if you read my other blog post 2011 DMV Awards: Coonstastically Coonerific! Pt1 [<~Click here to read] then you already know what happened, but you don’t know how I feel about it.

        Outside of me being pissed that i took the time to prepare for the event, that they didn’t have a place for me to sit, and that I didn’t get to perform ….partially due to the fact that I was running for my life….I was soooo embarrassed! I know this shouldnt be a white black thing, so I will make it a white , black, nigger thing. When I walked into the hotel I was praying that there was no one from my job within a 50 mile radius of this place. Judging by the attire and attitude of people hovering around the entrance this was not the crowd that I would ever be caught dead with. Call it judgement but later activities would prove me correct. There was a veterans seminar going on upstairs and there was a sea of elderly white people dangling over the balconies to catch a glimpse of all the ill-dressed “coloreds” with the cameras flashing and red carpet affairs. One friend even told me that an elderly white woman told him that she was happy that the “next generation was doing something so positive”.  Another gentleman was over heard saying, ” …looks like good, clean fun.” This is what an on-looker thought of the 1,500+ people who showed up to supposedly celebrate one another.

        I was outraged that even from the jump things were not done properly. Black people, we have GOT to raise our standards up higher than what we continue to allow to occur. The line for the registration was at the bottom of the escalators and could have been around the corner where the “pat down” was located. There weren’t any efforts to place proper signage to alert the people as to which line to get in for wrist bands, etc. And if I were to go back, there should have been a dress code for the award show. It should have been church or temple attire to enter this event. Something about wearing different clothes will make you act better for just a little while longer. I felt like I was walking down the streets of Southeast DC, not that I would…..and not that everyone is Southeast is horrible….but it certainly didn’t feel like an award show. EVERY man should have a suit. Call me stuck up if you want, but that should be a goal for every man to save up to buy at least one suit. And this award show would have been the proper place to wear it. Hell, slacks and a button up would have sufficed…anything but the street attire that allowed street activities to occur.

       There was a taste of greed in the atmosphere as well. There were more people in that room than what that space would/should have allowed. I heard that the tables were sold for $500 a pop. Now I am all for making a profit, but fundraise, get sponsors, something! There were too many people walking between the tables than sitting to watch the show. The atmosphere was more on profits than true performance and celebration. I wouldn’t have started the show until everyone was seated and made to respect what the event was about in the first place. This is why people get to behave so poorly at events like this and then come uptown to my event and get their feelings hurt when I show their asses how to properly behave. This shit has GOT to stop.

       The program, aside from misspelled words and names of invited performers, was more about advertisement than to direct and guide the show. Now I know that is where the sponsors go, but how was the show suppose to be ran? Someone could have easily taken a church program and used that outline. I didn’t know which performer I would have gone after or which category I may have performed after. It was all so disorganized.

        But at the root of it all….I had to ask myself if these were my people. The answer, no. My people don’t do things like this. My people know how to act when at home but especially when out in public amongst mixed company. MY people respect one another and even when they disagree they do so in a contained manner. No one should ever know the disagreements that occur inside of one’s house. I finally understood why people who leave the hood sometimes choose to never look back. For once I saw it. I understood the motive behind their actions. I didn’t want to be associated with these people. I wanted to find all footage that had me on it and burn it. I was ashamed to be the same shade of skin as these people.

        I was ashamed that black men felt the need to assert their “manhood” by beating someone up. I couldn’t believe my eyes at the sea of innocent people who were hurt because they thought that being a man meant to jump another person who looked just like them. Looking over the banister of the second tier, I couldn’t tell who the victim was, who the help was, or who the fighters were; THEY ALL LOOKED ALIKE! They looked alike, they looked alike, GOT DAMN IT NIGGAS, YOU ALL LOOKED ALIKE!!! The only thing that separated you was where you resided, who your friends were and that you had different mamas, but I be damned if someone told me that they could tell the difference between these males.

        I am sitting here in my office fighting back tears. I saw older ladies get hit , females being tossed to the floor and thrown on tables to be moved out of the way. I saw a black teen come out of the hotel and film a girl’s mother crying and laughed because he thought it was funny. How is THAT being a man? How is THAT showing pride in who you are and where you come from?How did any of that make sense? The aftermath damn near resembled an earthquake or natural disaster. Broken tables, bottles shatter, chairs turned over, articles of clothing left behind and in pieces….this is something that one should never have to see; something that one should never do to YOUR OWN PEOPLE!

       And maybe I just don’t get it, the hood mentality, but the truth of the matter is…. I don’t want to get it. NOTHING is ever that bad that you have to physically fight to prove your point. I know what it feels like to want to pin a bitch to the wall for talking out the side of her high-yella mouth and trying you…trust me, I do. But I also know what it feels like to refrain because I had nothing to prove to her. Me stomping her ass was a given. Everyone knew I would win that fight and I would come out looking like a bully rather than a strong woman who put this bitch in her place. I know what it feels like to be ostracized by those who claim loyalty to her and her lies in the shadow of something that only she and I know occurred. I know how it feels.Trust me, I know how it feels to have some one verbally come at you and you just stand there and take it. I’ve been disrespected before in a ballroom full of people. And you better believe that my first instinct was to SLICE THIS BITCH UP! But his own actions , my knowing I did no wrong, somehow was enough for me to leave it alone. I even changed my opening speech from “Taalam Acey said it best, there’s a market for niggas” just because I didn’t want people to think that I said it specifically for that nut. It hurt, yes it did. To be attacked whether someone felt I earned it or not…it stung. But just as I could scream that there was a more tactful and respectful way for those dummies to handle themselves, there was a better way for me to handle myself….and I believe I took the higher road. Because when it is all said and done, my life moves on. So what he bumped into you…. your life will move on. So what he is from a different hood than you… so what! YOUR LIFE WILL MOVE ON!  YOUR LIFE WILL MOVE ON!!! None of what happened was worth what occurred.

       Call me stuck up if you want… I don’t give a FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK! The only difference between me and these people are the fact that I KNOW BETTER. I had a hard childhood. I wasnt given shit. I literally/metaphorically fought my way through some situations. The difference is that I never once put myself or others in danger to assert myself. When you know better, you do better. So at what point did black people stop knowing better? At what point did beating each other become the norm? At what point did it become okay for people to be smiling and grinning and filming outside of these occurrences? Why wasnt anyone who wasnt hurt upset? Why weren’t they running to the police to nip everything in the bud?I just don’t get it.

       No one will want to come to this award next year, if there is a show next year. No place worth coming would want to host it after what happened this year. And some of these places will be weary to rent out their space to other black organizations looking to build a successful foundation all because these coons decided to act an ass. And no one is willing to tell who started the fight. No one is willing to speak. You better believe that if this effected ANYTHING that was near and dear to me… I would squeal. AND LOUD! I would point out people in the YouTube vids. I’d get the guy who stole the bottle of liquor and admitted to it. I’d slow down every tape and point out the performers who were just on stage before the fight broke out. Yes, your officer…the dude in all black with the locs throwing the chair is apart of the group named ( insert group here).  I’m not afraid to stand up for what is right. The sad thing is… I shouldnt have to be the only one.

P.S. You can tell the high-yella heffa & the nut I said it. I have already said it to them… so go ahead… be a nosey motherfucker and start something up. Its old news. You’ll be the main nigga that my blog was talking about… constantly trying to keep shit going. My opinions are just that. So nigga…..do you.

       Also, tune in tomorrow to read my blog 200 Men Said….Let aMan be a Man[<~Click here tomorrow]. Even though it deals with relationships…. how appropriate that it follows after this blog. It wasnt scheduled, but the universe works in mysterious ways.

Sincerely,

~*My Mother’s Daughter*

2011 DMV Awards: Coonstastically Coonerific! Pt1

In Lyrically Speaking on 7 March 2011 at 10:57 am

        You might have seen nigger before, but you aint NEEEEEEEEEEVER seen nigger like this! Yes, I said it.. and what!  What am I talking of, you ask? Well, that would be the 2011 DMV Awards. No, not the Department of Motor Vehicles, but the DC, Maryland, and Virginia Music Awards. TRUST ME when I tell y’all that the only way I could describe this event would be “Coontastically Coonerific”.  WARNING!!!!!!: This is a LONG ASS BLOG POST!

        Let me give you some back history. I was introduced to the coordinator of the event a month or two ago at an industry event party hosted by an amazing diva. I thought that this would be an amazing opportunity to bring poetry to a different demographic who may never travel to where I reside in order to be enlightened by Spoken Word. I even heard that there was a category for Best Spoken Word Artist. Now, this was news to me because I had never even HEARD of the DMV Awards before this moment. So how could there be an award for us when no one I knew was even aware that they were even NOMINATED? Yes, you read that correctly. My #1 ace called several people who were nominated in the poetry category and they were oblivious to the fact that they were even nominated. WTF? So was it a front? Who did they give the trophies to? Just…yeh. So after several conversations I got my big brother on the performance list as well because I thought that it would be good for this group to see a black male performing poetry as well. We were promised emails to give us performance details, when we would go on, directions, etc…..and we NEVER received them. This…..should have been a warning sign.

       So, word on the street to people who I had come in contact with had already warned me that the DMV Awards was full of niggery. After having asked the coordinator, and I quote, “What is the dress code? Is it DC Club trendy or BET Honors?” To which he replied, ” WOW. That’s your call. I’m going for the shock value.” WTF kind of Tom Foolery is that? After hearing that, I was prepared to walk into the prestige kingdom of Niggerdom. I had got my hair done the night before, picked out a mature and sophisticated outfit that would make me one of the few women with the most amount of clothes in the building.

        Upon walking up to the Hyatt-Regency of Crystal City, I could already tell we were in the right place due to the mounds of black people outside dressed in next to nothing. Yes, the fellas were in nothing more impressive than what appeared to be basement party dance-off gear and the females were dawning dresses made for an Uncle Luke video primed for BET Uncut. I am a straight woman who couldn’t take my eyes off the asses of these females whose dresses were inches from the cracks of their asses. I mean, here we were in 40 degree weather and these bitches were wearing Cooch Couture! Women of all ill shapes were set up by other ill-figured bitches. I saw more saggy breasts than a maternity ward at Jackson Hospital. I immediately knew that I wasnt suppose to be there do to the array of ass that was on display. Now having been a chronic sufferer of Donk Deficiency myself, I was a little out of my element…but I digress.

        The press was there in abundance, and so were the hoodrats trying to get their attention. I mean, nominees were taking red carpet picks with their make-up artists. WTF? Where they do that at? (Pardon the preposition ending, but you know what I mean). Judging by the looks of this Flava Flav colored woman dawning Golden Arches colored lipstick… I be damned if I would claim her as my make-up artist, yet alone have her in my red carpet photos. Yes, I had finally entered nigger activity.  But NOTHING, and I mean NOTHING prepared me for what would follow.

        Upon entering the ballroom, being pat down for weapons, twice, …..

       Sidebar: In the line to get pat down for weapons, a guy pulled out a WAD of $100 bills the size of a Double Quarter Pounder and placed them on the table because he was told to empty his pockets. Now, stereotypically…a guy dressed as poorly as he, white-tee, jeans, sneakers, sunglasses inside of a hotel at night-time, and unkempt facial hair and locs, one would suggest that he wasnt suppose to have that kind of money….legally. Secondly, nigga, we are at a hotel for an award show…why the fuck do you have that kind of money on your person? I was prepared to rob you my damn self.

        Now, I found a woman who was assisting with the show and asked where were the performers suppose to sit. Do you know that this woman had enough nerve to ask me if I had purchased a table? WTF!!!! Trick, I was invited to perform for YOUR SHOW, performers don’t purchase tables or seats. You reserve seats for your  performers and presenters and everyone else should purchase a seat. After temporarily sitting at a reserved table, I finally planted my ass in a chair that was propping open the ballroom doors and that is where God had intended me to sit for the remainder of my time there.

        One would think that this was more of a club atmosphere than an award show. People were constantly walking throughout the crowds no one was really paying any attention to anyone that was on stage and half of the winners weren’t even in the building to accept the award. See how helpful reserved seating would be? Niggers parading with bottles of champagne, logo tatted shirts, and drunk niggers galore were everywhere. There was no respect in the room. So the inevitable was bound to happen….and it did.

        After calling for an intermission, I saw people at the front of the room turn around and point to the back of the room. Now, as a black person, it is innate that if ONE person runs, you all run. So when I saw the finger point to the back of the room  my inner hood pounced into survival mode. I turned my head and saw a chair raise up and immediately land on this guy. I took off my 4 inch heels, hooked the corner and was out into the lobby running from the foolishness that was occurring just feet away from me. So apparently this fight broke out: (View at 1:32)

        Yes, THIS is what happened at an award show. Source Awards on repeat. At 3:29 you hear a hood chick proclaim how people were leaving their things and how she had on $100,00 worth of jewelry on. Say it with me now..>WTF?! Why would ANYONE in this place have on a hundred thousand dollars worth of jewelry on? They may have…but I doubt it.  And you immediately see a guy, ON CAMERA, admitting to stealling liquor out of the hotel after the fight broke out. Now I cant say this enough but WTF?!!!

       After the first 4 fights broke out I was in the lower lobby. I witnessed the employee worker get his face damn near ripped off, I saw him pass us with napkins dripping his blood across the lobby floor. HE WAS AN INNOCENT BYSTANDER!!! I saw an older woman who was a vendor sitting at her table get pushed and hit once. SHE WAS AN INNOCENT BYSTANDER!!!  There I was standing there, barefoot, in the lobby of a hotel with a sea of madness surrounding me and not knowing what to do next. I raced all the way upstairs and out of the hotel to be faced with Virginia Police Department decorated in riot gear. Nothing says game over like a VAPD pointing an AK 47 in your face telling you to keep it moving.  If there wasnt foolishness inside, there was bound to be some foolishness outside. This had “accidental police shooting” written all over it.

        We hopped back in my truck and we left with more than 25 police cars blocking any route back to the hotel. There was even a police SUV, a few streets over, with his lights off waiting to catch any more of the madness that may have trickled away from the hotel. What baffled me is the fact that 6, count them SIX, of the guys even recorded in this video in neon yellow shirts were covered in blood, ripped shirts, and bloody faces walked right out the front door of the hotel and passed by the cops. Now, if I were a snitch…. I would have brought attention to them. I would have said, these are the same motherfuckers who were JUST performing on the stage prior to the intermission. But I guess that would go against the hood code, right? Well damn it…. I aint from the hood.

        Read DMV AWARDS: Coonstastically Connerific Pt2 [<~Click here in a moment] to read my lessons learned through this.

       Also, tune in tomorrow to read my blog 200 Men Said….Let aMan be a Man[<~Click here tomorrow]. Even though it deals with relationships…. how appropriate that it follows after this blog. It wasnt scheduled, but the universe works in mysterious ways.

Sincerely,

~*My Mother’s Daughter*~

*Click on Title and scroll down to read comments or to leave a comment.*~

Writer’s Block: D.O.C Honored by Katie Russo

In Writer's Block on 23 November 2010 at 11:44 am

      

        One of my mottos is that “The best compliment that you could ever give truth is a mirror” and I think I now have a tangible source of evidence to prove exactly what I meant by that. Someone thought that one of my poems touched them in such a manner that they would write a “reply” poem for the other demographic that was not captured in my original poem. It is powerful, it is humbling, and it is beautiful. It puts a different spin on what my poem was created for, it makes me understand my original poem better, and it makes me feel as if I have to work harder to make the reality of my words available for the lips of those who feel as if they cant speak those words on their own. My eyes are open now…. as well as my ears, and I am able to receive hope better because of this “reply” poem.

        Domestic Violence is a topic that is very close to my heart. Someone very close to me was/is in the midst of it and no matter what you try to do….it is their battle. It is a lesson of letting go and waiting. One of the most painful things is to be helpless and hopeless and pray that they will come to their own self-worth and respect before it is too late. So a few years ago, when I got the news of this abusive situation, I vented to a then friend and the topic for the poem came to life. She said that if a guy ever beat her he would be DOA before anyone could ever revive him at the hospital. I joked and said that he would be D.O.C….. and the poem was born. Here is my poem D.O.C.

“D.O.C”

(by 2Deep)

Your honor
In the case of The State vs. 2Deep The Poetess
I,
The justified assailant
Would like to plead the newly instated charge of Premeditated Self-Defense

Because as a child,

I made up my mind that no man was ever going to lay his hands on me

So after several chick flicks

And watching self-defense workout tapes to Dixie Chicks’ “Earl’s Gotta Die”

I deemed myself fully equipped to handle any man who THOUGHT that he was bold enough to threaten my self-preservation

So I present to you, Exhibit A

I present to you…

His Death Certificate

Yes, sir

That is correct

D.O.C. stands for Dead on Contact

Because he was letting me know of his impending suicide

Through traditional methods of homicide

The moment that his person violently met with my person

So that time of death you see stated there, Your Honor,

Is the moment in which his hand actually touched me

Because the moments following that,

Which actually lead to his last breath,

Were merely inconsequential

Now I present to you Exhibit B

This the map with the exact longitude and latitude

Give or take a stomp or two

Of where his sorry ass now resides

I told his mother,

“Don’t thank me for saving you on funeral costs

Just fix the heel on my boot,

patch up the hole in my floor

And get every female in your family’s tubes tied

So that no one else

Will ever have to suffer from another sorry excuse of an XY chromosome every again.”

And, Your Honor,

I know that this looks like murder

But I promise you it was self-defense

Premeditated?

Yes!

But only because I know my self-worth

But self-defense never the less

And if he were alive today

He, too, would tell you that he didn’t think I could defend myself so well

So I think that my punishment should be to get in a relationship with another sorry ass bastard

Because I will not waste tax payer dollars by filing police reports

Nor will I waste precious emergency room pace

Because you see, I live by a 2-Hit-Die Rule

You hit me

You hit the floor

You die

I am unselfish in this matter, Your Honor

Because there are women out there who need me

And if they can’t have me

They at least need to have my self-esteem

Because there’s not a creation created on this Earth bad enough to put his hands on me

EXCEPT for the devil

And even he’s smart enough to send dumbasses like this to do his dirty work

And we see how that turned out

So I guess that now’s the time for me to admit

That, yes, Sleep & I are having an affair on the side

Therefore, I will not stay up late at nights nursing bruises while he gets to sleep soundly

Nor will I try to figure out what it is that I did or did not do today that caused him to lay his hands on me

So no, Your Honor

I will not apologize for him thinking of me as a victim & me rising as a victor

But I am sorry that his damn daddy didn’t teach him who not to put his fucking hands on

SO, Your Honor, much like that motherfucker who misjudged me

I rest!

 

         For years people have laughed at the “2-Hit-Die Rule” while others have thanked me for bringing life to the topic in such a comedic manner. Either way, people have enjoyed it. I think it spreads a message. And several times I look out into the audience and I see the women nodding and agreeing with me aloud, but I also see one or two women who are either glancing at their men or are very  non-responsive to the poem. I always wondered why that is but never put much thought into it. That was my fault…. my shortcoming to not explore.

        But when one door closes, another door opens. My window of opportunity came in the form of an amazing poet; Katie Russo. Katie is an amazing teacher, journalist, poet and an overall amazing person. I met her a year ago at one of my poetry shows that I host and she has been a beacon of light amongst the darker side of this business. She asked about slam and wanted to find out the inner workers. She emailed me requesting information, wanted to know more spots where she could hear other poets, and she yearned to soak up as much information that I was willing to provide her. She wanted to study it and perfect her craft, and I honestly respected every aspect of her work ethic, so it would be no surprise that I would continue to respect her efforts in honoring my poem, D.O.C.

        Last night she was my featured artist at the open mic I hosted. I was so excited!!!! She revealed to me that she had a reply poem for the other side of my poem. She asked me to introduce her set by doing D.O.C. so that the crowd could see both sides of the spectrum, and I obliged. It was my honor to do so. And as she reaches the mic she begins to perform her poem, Conviction:

Conviction-

(by Katherine Russo)

 

You say it with such conviction,

your syllables drip with perfect diction,

You say you’ll never let a man put you in that position,

and I begin to blush

sink back into the green cushion booth

wooden table,

pen to paper,

ashamed to write this truth,

that I do wish that I could be like you.

 

I know what I used to see when I looked at me;

a palatable acoustic youth.

So unaware that well paid white guys could be abusive too.

 

I never knew when I saw his blue eyes

heard his jokes,

listened to him talk about my red hair

and offer me a smoke

that his fists were capable of anything other than

boxing,

his favorite hobby.

I thought the only time I’d see him swing

was in pursuit of muscled body;

I was mistaken.

Clenched fists didn’t just exist hunched over a computer

data computing

disgusting to me how I thought I was worth muting

because abuse didn’t look like him

and it certainly didn’t look like me

and these bruises that I have are the result of too much free

I said too much,

he drank too much,

someone hit someone but I’m the only one bruised because,

well,

I hit like a girl.

 

And girls like me are above things like these

so silently I ignored what’s so painfully obvious to see;

that I spent too many nights adorning bourbon soaked bruises in afternoons meant to be mornings

that I refused to see every road sign,

 flashing light telling me to run from this place id come to be,

 because I let someone take over all my common sense

and then devour me.

 

But then I remembered,

there was a time when I spoke with like conviction

my syllables steeped in perfect diction

I said I’d never let a man put me in that position,

and now in what feels like twisted fiction I have come to speak the truth;

until I met him,

turned into her

I was; Just. Like. You.

 

        Silence! She had performed the crowd into a trance. All I could do was nod my head and say, “Wow”. Even her boyfriend, who was supposed to record the performance, had forgotten to even turn the camera on. She was amazing. I had to confess that I think she out-wrote me! Her style, cadence and ability to draw a picturesque emotion is unbelievable.

        She mentioned how my somewhat mentoring her int his poetry field has helped her “write to speak” skills and her “write to read” skills as well. I am honored… but I think …no, I KNOW, she had the skills all along…I just may have given her an avenue to express them to where people could hear them. I take no other credit than giving her a stage….she is naturally skilled.

        I am humbled, that she would write a reply piece to my poem. Yet, I am also sadden that I never thought about the women who have YET to capture the courage that drips from my poem. I’m glad someone was able to do so. But i think that this poem speaks to more than just abuse…there is more here. I think there is a huge part of this poem that speaks to the judgmental person who screams they would never do something and then by twist of fate are forced to do exactly what they said they would never do. Here lies the truth that we all hide, cover with MAC and blame on self-propelled kitchen cabinets and loose stair railings. It makes you face your own issues and remember a time when you thought you were strong and long for the days when you can be again.

        One of the strongest lines, to me, is “disgusting to me how I thought I was worth muting”; it screamed at me. As much as I talk…trust me I talk a lot. There are times when I feel like I should be hushed just because someone else said I should be or made attempts to hush me. Long story… but just know that it spoke to me. And I thank her for shaking that part of my conscience awake from its denial.

        So between this poem and another poem by a good friend of mine…. I was in tears and deep thought last night. It was an amazing night of poetry and I was glad that I had an opportunity to witness it all, to be int he presence of such amazing company and to be honored by such an amazing poet. There is more wonderful things coming from Katie Russo…..I bet my pension on that. I am just blessed to be in her presence and to watch her work, to trust me with pieces of her journey and to have her give feedback of my work. I am inspired to write today because of her…..and that takes a lot of magic. She has the magic to make me put pen to paper and create in honor of her inspiration. Google her!!! Like Kom Plex says, she’s “googleable” lol.

Sincerely,

~*My Mother’s Daughter*~

The House My Father Built

In XX Edition: About the Girls on 26 October 2010 at 10:09 am

       It occurred like a script unfolding in real life. It was as if I read God’s mind, wrote a blog & then He got jealous at my telepathic skills and decided to put me to the test. “How dare I pick up on God’s plan” is what this lesson was teaching me. How  dare I be so in tune with the powers that be that I set myself up in the cross hairs of this lesson’s aim. But here I stood, or laid rather. September 17th, 2010, just 9 days after I wrote a blog about being molested by my father……I wake up to a Facebook message of a woman telling me that she worked with my father and he was trying to find me.  *glass shatters* Fear riddled my body as if the Nazi party had ratted me out to the KKK for kissing a white man in Mississippi after running away from the plantation without my freedom papers. No amount of words could describe this experience.

        It had been almost 16 years since the last time I had set eyes on, heard from, or even smelled my biological father. It wasnt even anything that I missed. But here is was, invading my Blackberry and oozing into the privacy of my house. I closed the application just because I felt that it was giving too much information about my whereabouts. There I was… wrapped in my covers having not even stepped out of bed for the morning….and I was no longer the 29-year-old woman who I was supposed to be; I was now a 9-year-old crouched in the corner of the bed waiting for my father to turn the bedroom door knob after having smoked a Newport.

        How do you compete with that? How do you explain to yourself that the emotions you are feeling are validated yet you fight so hard not to experience them? Why was I on the brink of crying? Why was I feeling heavy all of a sudden? I was grown, right? I had done well for myself without him, right? He wasnt even on my radar. The last time , before the blog, that I had even thought of my father was when I was in high school searching obituaries just so that I could finally know that he had died. It was as much of a ritual for me as Muslims pray throughout the day. It was my sanctuary of revenge.  Housed inside of my facade of happiness hid the fear that he would one day find me.

        So from my bed, the first thing that came to mind was. I rent, so the house isn’t in my name. The phone is shared with my roommate and it isn’t in my name. Other than my taxes, only a hand-full of people know my exact location. I go by my stage name so that should people in Baltimore ever reference me in his presence, he wouldn’t even know that it was me. I never take the same route home or mode of transportation from and to different locations; I’ve become my own CIA agent. I have a google voice number so that no one can ever track me down and connect me directly. I know 4 escape routes out of my house just in case I need to flee. But why was it that….with all of this hiding, he still managed to find me . In my home. In my bed. Waking me from my sleep. I managed to still be exposed. This time, I couldn’t escape.

The correspondences with the coworker went as follows:

  •  
    • Gina September 17 at 6:26am Report
    • 2Deep,
      My name is Gina and I work with your father. He has ask me to send you this message he would very much like to see you and sit down and talk. We are currently in Baltimore, Maryland. Please send me a message on what you would like to do. He knows that you don’t want to see him but he request that you at least give him a chance to explain. Thanks Gina
    • 2Deep September 17 at 6:29am
      Are you serious?!!!! How’d you even find me and where does he work/live? Etc. Let me think about it b/c I really don’t see what there could be to explain.
       
    • Gina  September 17 at 6:53am Report
      2Deep, he works at [employer], our number is 410-[###-###] not that I am pushing the issue just wanted to give you the number just in case after you think about it. Thanks for answering me, he does not have a computer
       
    • 2Deep September 17 at 6:55am
      I don’t mean to be rude, as this is not directed at you, but why is he looking for me now and does he know where I am? Is he dying? Because this sounds like a guilty man dying.
       
    • Gina  September 17 at 7:11am Report
      Believe me I understand and I know it is not directed at me. He was off yesterday and he came in this morning and said that a situation had come up and I guess someone told him to check on Facebook , in conversation I told him I had a Facebook account and that’s how he found you. He said that he has been looking for you, and it is important that he sees you. and no he is not dying. he just said to me it is important to him. I do not know the story nor am I trying to get in your business or his, but I understand your feelings because even though it may not be the same situation one of my family members did not see their child for years, and when they tried she did not want to see them. so I do understand. He just knows that you may be in Maryland, at least that’s what he said.
       
    • 2Deep September 17 at 7:13am
      Well, I will think about it. Thanks. Have a blessed day.
      Sent via Facebook Mobile
       
    • Gina  September 17 at 7:17am Report
      you too!!!
        Wow! What a way to start the day, huh? The sad part about it was… I put on a good front. I stood my ground and appeared sane. If only for a moment I felt proud of myself. I got up and took a shower, ate, and took over an hour to decide what I was going to wear to work, how was my hair suppose to be, and should I wear make-up. BAM! I caught myself. I caught myself making sure I was “perfect”. I hadn’t done this in years. My father, without even being in the same house, had managed to creep into my psyche and revert me back to the child who double checked everything before leaving my room. Part of it was to make sure that I was well covered so he wouldn’t be attracted to anything on me. The other half was so that I could cover up to the world just how worthless and ugly I felt from what was going on behind the walls of my house. It was dress up. And even though I still havent seen Tyler Perry’s interview, but have heard of it….. I dressed up to run away from the moments that weren’t so pretty. Everything could be dressed up. Everything could be made into make-believe and make-believe made real. And 16 years later, I stood in my house playing dress up for the day.  And I sat Indian style on the floor and cried. I made myself look in the mirror as I did this, made myself self say “fuck the time” as I was already late for work, and I cried.
I cried that the emotions I had dressed up had taken it  upon themselves to undress without my permission. They had chosen to come out of the closet and drape over my camouflage and force me to pay attention to the situation at hand. And I wasnt ready. I wasnt ready to go out on stage. I wasnt ready to speak the lines that were literally written on the page, but rather summarize the thesis. But curtain call was calling me to come and hold this situation’s hand and take a bow….the run on Broadway could end, but for some reason… I was a member of Cats and I identified myself with this long drawn out version of my existence. Who would I be if I didn’t have this as a crutch to fall back on when needed? Who would I be if I didn’t have this hatred in the back of my heart? Who am I?
So I got up, wiped the make-up from my face, pulled my hair back in a simple pony tail, and I went to work comfortably for the day. I was ready to be a big girl. Despite the walls that my father had helped me to build around my fears, around my self-worth, around my heart, I too knew how to handle a tool or two. And this act of defiance, this unwillingness to dress up on this day, shook the very foundation of my father’s house of cards that once seemed like Alcatraz wrapped around me. And a few days passed……
  • 2Deep September 20 at 2:23pm
    Hello,

    I still havent decided on myself, but you could at least tell him that I passed his information on to my sister. She has been looking for him.

    I guess what is stalling my final decision would be.. what “situation” occurred that made him wish to look for me. If that cannot be answered on your part, I completely understand.

    I humbly appreciate your patience and understanding as well as your participation. God bless!
    ~2Deep

  • Gina September 20 at 4:01pm Report
    2Deep I am at home now so first thing in the morning I will tell him about your message. We also looked for your sister on here as well and we did find a [My Sister’s Name] on here and I sent a friend request to the young lady but have not heard from her maybe she is not the right person or because she doesn’t know me she did not accept my request. I am sure he will want me to send a message to you in the morning but I don’t want to wake you in the morning so let me know what is a good time because I think that I may have woke you up the last time we spoke thru messaging. Thanks Gina
  • 2Deep September 20 at 4:14pm
    I wake up around 6:30am every morning so I was just waking up last time. Yes, that is her and I have no clue if she still has an account here on FB, she an I are currently not speaking. Like Father, like child. Have a blessed evening.
  • Gina  September 20 at 5:02pm Report
    YOU TOO!!
  • Gina  September 21 at 9:15am Report
    2Deep,
    This is what he said to me. YOU ARE MY DAUGHTER AND I LOVE YOU AND WANT TO SEE YOU. When you decide to see me I will explain everything. that’s what he said to me. Gina
  • 2Deep September 21 at 9:21am
    LMAO!!!!! Boy, I always wondered where I got my twisted humor from. Now, I see that I got it honest. Thanks for the message. I pray that you have a wonderful day. Mine is going beautifully. God bless!~2Deep
    Sent via Facebook Mobile
  • Gina September 21 at 9:27am Report
    I am sorry if I sounded abrupt but that’s exactly how he said it to me.
    Gina
  • 2Deep   September 21 at 9:36am
    Oh no, it’s NOT YOU. I heard his voice in my head when you said it. I believe that is exactly how he said it & that’s what makes it funny. Don’t mind me. Long story. Thanks again.
    Sent via Facebook Mobile
  • Gina September 21 at 9:45am Report
    ok, no problem have a good one.
  • 2Deep September 21 at 9:31p

        My sister, the one who would have a better shot at robbing Jesus of a Rolex & speaking to my father, said that she called the number you provided today around 4pm your time & no one answered. When is there a better time to call?I don’t know you, but I pray that this isn’t a prank,   for my sister’s sake. B/c this would kill her if she couldn’t actually get in contact w/ him. Thanks.

  • Gina    September 22 at 6:40am Report
  • 2Deep, this is not a joke!! I know your first name is [My Name] (spelling may be wrong) or at least that is what your father told me. He works 7 to 3:30 we close at 4:00 and believe me the girls in the office leave at 5 of. our answering machine does not come on until 5:00 pm
    she can call during th day at anytime. she did friend me and I am sure he will send a message. Thanks Gina
  • 2Deep   September 22 at 6:43am
  • Thanks so very much. I care more about her talking to her name sake than myself. My apologies if I sounded rude, I just have to play big sis and make sure that she isn’t being messed with. Have a blessed day.
  • Sent via Facebook Mobile
  • Gina September 22 at 6:48am Report
  • I do not think you are being rude. Again I don’t know the whole story and of course what little I am hearing is one side. after working with your Dad for 4yrs I kind of know how he is, and after talking to you for just a few short days I can tell that you have grown into a fine young lady with or with out him. I can understand why you want to protect your family. Have a great day!!!
  • 2Deep September 22 at 6:55am
  • Wow! 4 years?! More power to you! I guess my curiosity only wants to know what he looks like. I don’t think that I am either emotionally or mentally prepared to hear much else at this time. Still praying on it. If I were to ever contact him I would have to feel safe & have all of my tracks covered. I am a secluded person, very secretive & private, & wish for not even friends to be able to find me or know where I live, all thanks to him. Been this way since my teens. So I will continue to pray about it & hope that he doesn’t feed my sister lies or false hopes. Thanks again for everything. God bless.
  • Sent via Facebook Mobile
  • Gina September 22 at 6:58am Report
  • I hope he doesn’t feed either one of you lies and false hope. I will bring a camera in and take a picture and post it on my account for you. (if I can remember, I am old lol…) What ever your decision is I am just the messenger and I wish you well. I am sure we will talk again
  • 2Deep    September 22 at 6:59am
  • Thanks. God bless!
        Then one day, as if I wasnt moving on his time. I get a message that shook my defiance awake. It was as if this was a true test to my face! Bold, deliberate and outright disrespectful to my very being…to my existence. I woke up to a heading that read:  [2Deep], THIS IS A LETTER YOUR FATHER WROTE TO SEND YOU. HE ASK ME TO SEND IT THROUGH FACEBOOK,  and it read:
  •  
    • Gina September 24 at 1:37pm Report
      [misspelled my name],
      It saddens me that you have to think about seeing your father. That tells me that the amount of poison that you have been fed has become lethal and my suffering will continue. On the other hand I am so very proud of you and your accomplishments!!!!! you appear to be a very beautiful young lady with a promising future. I will always love you and I look forward to the day that you can look pass my failures as a parent and try to start a new relationship with me..your father.

      (2Deep, I was hesitant to send this to you because I feel that it is not my place, but he asked because he has no way to contact you and he kept asking me. ) Gina

    • 2Deep  September 24 at 1:49pm
      Thank you so very much. If there is an address (US Postal) for him where I can reply, I’ll address/reply to him personally. Since he is playing victim & suffering from a bout w/ amnesia, I’ll remain on the borders of the real issues as well. Again, you are heaven-sent & your efforts are genuinely appreciated. God bless.~2Deep
      Sent via Facebook Mobile
    • 2Deep  September 24 at 2:09pm
      P.S. Please tell him to learn how to properly spell my name, if that wasn’t a typo.
        There it was. He didn’t take responsibility for anything. it was this mysterious “poison” that I was supposed to have been fed. I felt hurt all over again, but this time I decided to fight back. I fought the urge to cry, I wavered on what I should do… so I did what came naturally… I called my dad (godfather).
I mentioned it to my dad and my mother over heard the conversation. She said to me, “Forgive him, and then move on. Dont confuse forgiveness with reconciliation.”  And that was that. Again, my mother said the simplest thing and it made perfect sense. I didn’t have to sit in turmoil over what to do. I just had to respectfully forgive. I would never be as outright as Tyler and pay for his bills, etc. But I could at least respect his position of who he should have been and close this for myself. I still havent done it yet… but I plan to. I don’t know if I want to write a letter, or to call, or to see him in person just to close this out for myself. But one day soon… I will be free. 
I wonder what it will be like to live in a new house. A house where I won the keys, where my name is on all owner’s documents. Because living in this house that my father built has brought forth some bitter-sweet memories. I am thankful that I survived, but bitter that I had to endure the construction of these walls all in the same breath. Each day I build a foundation of courage to speak my mind , the wisdom to know what to say and if I should ask questions, the strength to walk away , the understanding to not feel guilty, and forgiveness to truly mean it for good. Forgiveness: Extreme Makeovers: Home Edition.
Sincerely,
~*My Mother’s Daughter*~

What Happens in this House….:A Molestation Survivor Speaks

In So-Shall Experience on 8 September 2010 at 4:58 pm

WARNING: This is a very graphic and tough topic. Personal experiences and sexual references are made and PARENTAL 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*~

His House

This is the house where majority of it happened. On Pinebrook Dr in Montgomery,AL

….She’s Skinny…Standing Next to Your Mama!

In So-Shall Experience on 7 September 2010 at 12:33 pm

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!)

Sincerely,

Mother’s Daughter

Yes, I’m Fat….Thanks for Noticing

In So-Shall Experience on 5 September 2010 at 1:09 pm

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?      

~Sincerely,      

My Mother’s Daughter

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