It isn't easy being an advocate of love. Particularly not when the definition is wide, varied and ambiguous. What may be a high demonstration of love on one level, can simply be seen as a mean act on another. It is all about perspective. And you what they say about perspectives...it sounds kinda like the one about opinions...anyway, the point I am making is there are two things that people have to deal with, regardless of perspective. Those things are, white flags and hot potatoes.
White Flags
We know white flags are the symbols of surrender. Surrender meaning, "I'm tired of fighting. I cannot take the whipping that is being put on me. I concede, you...win," or "YOU win" or "you WIN!" However it is said, wherever the syllable is stressed, the point is the same, "I give up." 2008 taught me a lot about white flags. What I'm learning about letting someone else win is to simply ask two questions. One question is, "How does this benefit my life?", the other is, "As a result of this, is my life easier, or happier?" Simple enough, right? Ahh, but as in all good dramas, there be a point of reference. In this case the non-sequitur here is...in the long run. Do we often make decisions in terms of their long-term consequences, whether they be positive or negative? I don't think so. Most of the time, we make decisions based on the moment, or short-term pleasures, or gains. This can be fine if indeed that is where one's bliss lies. For me, that plan doesn't work. I found myself hysterically waving a white flag in the one area that has and continues to elude me...love relationships.
Sure. We've heard the stories, the heartbreaks, the triumphs and tragedies. We have even heard the advice of the wise ones, "Beloved, if you want love, you must first become love." I hear that. I have even taken a sentence from Iyanla Van Zant and her definition of compassion, a most necessary component of love, "Compassion means healing others without making yourself sick." That, I loved. You love it too, right? Most often, we think if you are to be loving, that means you become a doormat for the World. No. It doesn't mean that. It means that you look beyond yourself and your possibly petty desires and motives, and you move in the interest of the Greater Good, or the Best Possible Outcome. For me, Love is an interesting mix of personality, objectives, responsibility and united opportunity. One thing for me that makes my lovequests incredibly interesting is my inability to be anyone but myself, AND my inability to sell myself dreams for long. This last I acquired from the women who shaped me. Often, as a new mother and an older girl, I said, "Everyone else has loving parents who support and adore them. Me? I only have 3 Mean Ladies. These Mean Ladies always gave me the harshest admonishments and criticisms:
Mean Lady 1: Daughter, don't be a fool all your life.
Mean Lady 2: I ain't young lak you is, but mens got suga on dey tongue.
Mean Lady 3: Phooey!
And there you had it. The "Straight no Chaser" approach to love and life situations, kept me wrapt and often bereft because I so thoroughly believed in LoveStories and Happily Ever Afters. I thought they just were cynical, and certainly skeptics because their own lives hadn't panned out. I made the mistake most "young" people make. Thinking that older folk were trying to hate on my parade. I didn't know they were giving me the keys to the treasure chest, opening it and saying, "Take what you want out of it. Just know that you always leave more IN than you take out. If you choose to share, that is fine, but if it doesn't come back, you won't be bankrupt." Fortunately, I had the Old-Southern-Black People-Who-Want-Something kind of work ethic, mixed with the, "Oh yeah? You think I can't make it happen? Watch," mentality. This created rainbows after rainfalls, and made it so that I was able to accomplish a whole helluva lot. Love? I know how to do it, I know its rewards, I know its sacrifices and lamentations. Immature Love? That taught me something else...how to play Hot Potato and WIN.
Hot Potato
You know it. The game often played at birthday parties. An object was passed around (when I was a very little girl, mothers actually heated up a potato-yeah, in a pot, on the stove), music was played and its passed around until the music stops. If the music stopped and you were the person holding the object, you had to get OUT. Once you got out, the game continued until there were only two people left. The person left standing, sometimes sitting, won. This, being the last person was not an easy thing to accomplish. But you stood a better chance if you had two things:
1. the ability to hear changes in the music, and 2. good hand-eye coordination. Love Going Bad, in my experience, is not that different.
I see him. He sees me. He finds me attractive (of course,) and I am not quite repulsed by him. We talk, we visit-date, whichever works at the time and decide to have a relationship. Time is moving, persons are revealed, and then...the game begins.
Version One
"Hey. I called you yesterday. Why didn't you answer your phone?"
"When? I must not have heard it."
Pause.
"Oh, he thinks I'm lying," I think to myself. Why is that the first thought? Does he know that most of the time, I don't even know where the phone is? I'm still trying to figure out how to connect conference calls on this thing.
"Ai-ight. Lemme call you back."
"Alright. I'll speak to you later, Baby." We hang up and I say to myself, "Ok, we'll see how this plays out." Now, from here two things are generally what happen. He takes it on the chin and we keep it moving, or he gets incredibly annoyed that I'm not sweating him and he falls back.
Version Two
"Hey. I called you yesterday. Why didn't you answer your phone?"
"I don't really like talking on the phone."
"Oh. I can understand that. It breaks up the rhythm of your day, right? I can dig it.
What did we all do before the advent of cell phones." >chuckle<
"Yeah. Umm, lemme call you back."
"Alright Baby, later." We hang up and I say to myself, "Ok, this is getting suspicious. He hasn't been not taking my calls. I've been here before." Now, from here two things generally happen. We develop a more casual relationship or I stop calling to see if he falls back.
Please note: In either of these versions, the communication never ceases entirely. When communication resumes however, the toss-off is intense.
Usually, I am the initiator of an end to the game. Most often because I know myself and in the words of Bruce Banner, "Please don't make me angry...you wouldn't like me when I'm angry." The other one? Oh, she IS a doozy. I rarely unleash her and am commited to using the highest aspects of my personality. In an effort to promote this, "higher self" I end the game before any real damage is done, especially when it becomes apparent that it has indeed become a game.
Now, as we wrap up 2008 and prepare for 2009, I give thanks for the following:
1. I officially established my company.
2. I devoted an entire year to being a stay-at-home mom to my children, cooking EVERY night, just about, and teaching them about the power of their personalities and spirits.
3. I have a very DEFINITE knowledge of who I love and loves me BACK.
4. I got my Driver's License and, the cherry on top of my 2008 sundae,
5. I reconiled with my Daddy after 8 very long years.
I don't know if this will be my last post for 2008 but I do not the unpredicatability of life and am taking every moment preciously as it arrives. Blessings!
SxLvTlk
SxLvTlk: Know Your Grey
Monday, December 15, 2008
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
How Can They
I speak to many men. Brothers, cousins, ex-lovers, some I dare call... friends and I wonder, "How is it that they are able to leave the children they create with women?" Often, these men create new lives for themselves or maintain their life but create new families. I know one man (I use the term loosely) who has 12 children. From the little time I spent with him, 3 months of conversation and 6 weeks of interaction, I didn't see where he did much to provide for them, didn't see him even taking care of himself. This last, bewildered me. I realized that in the eyes and I guess hearts of some men, women and children, do not mean much. The end result is the obtaining of their own end agendas. When I met this man, I was told his youngest child was 9 or ten months old. Upon further interaction the fact that there was an even younger child, 5 or 6 months old, was revealed. I was amazed and I was appalled. How could he leave this woman who he liked enough to have sex with-unprotected sex at that- with a child so small and not keep track of her or the child? Judgmental? I accept that. But more than anything, I realized, if he could do this to women who he had children with, and young, very young children, I did not stand a chance. I was little more than a spoke in his wheel of intention.
Damn! That hurt. Not because I feel that I am special, I've met far too many people to maintain that delusion, but because I had moved against knowledge and relied on possibility and hope. Perhaps I had finally met someone who was not perfect, but was trying to become better than who he was. That was realistic and certainly doable. I too, was working on taking my thoughts and transforming them into matter. I was inspired by this man and certainly, I believed in a lot of the things he spoke of. Well known in cultural circles and charismatic, I thought he was thorough in his follow-through. Perhaps he was, just not in his personal life. How was it that this person who believed in family, blackness, love and the power of the masses to effect positive change be unable to focus on creating stability, in his OWN world? I didn't get it. I watched, to get to the root of it, and in getting I realized, he was quite selfish, and had no real plan, just a lot of bark.
In that, I also realized that my sacrifice, the time, energy, my offering of love, my space, my flesh, had all been for naught. It didn't matter. The proof of this came when I had cooked a meal, that I solely purchased (as my bank account was dwindling), prepared and presented to my family. After eating, the plates found their way to the kitchen, all except his. He sat upon the floor playing on his laptop and said, "Um, could you come git this?" referring to the plate. In that moment I said, "Oh hell no! He has got to get the eff out of here! This is where the road ends." I thought and wondered, "Wow! How can he think that I am going to be alright with that? Does my behavior indicate that I am willing to be misused and abused? Hmm. Oh well, if it does, let me correct your perception.
My behavior does not connote what I am thinking, or feeling, and it certainly doesn't denote how I will make decisions. You are persona non-grata." If he could leave his children and not show concern for his choices best addressed by, "I ain't perfek." I don't think women are looking for perfection, we are looking for accountability, and reliability. If we, the women, the mothers, did that, we would be flayed before the cross. I know this to be true because I know women who have left their children only to be judged by not only those watching but by my own private thoughts, even though, I UNDERSTOOD WHY and have often secretly longed to do so, lacking only the courage, knowing that I would miss my children too terribly. And so, the question remains, and I would love for men to answer, you can comment anonymously, How Can They?
Damn! That hurt. Not because I feel that I am special, I've met far too many people to maintain that delusion, but because I had moved against knowledge and relied on possibility and hope. Perhaps I had finally met someone who was not perfect, but was trying to become better than who he was. That was realistic and certainly doable. I too, was working on taking my thoughts and transforming them into matter. I was inspired by this man and certainly, I believed in a lot of the things he spoke of. Well known in cultural circles and charismatic, I thought he was thorough in his follow-through. Perhaps he was, just not in his personal life. How was it that this person who believed in family, blackness, love and the power of the masses to effect positive change be unable to focus on creating stability, in his OWN world? I didn't get it. I watched, to get to the root of it, and in getting I realized, he was quite selfish, and had no real plan, just a lot of bark.
In that, I also realized that my sacrifice, the time, energy, my offering of love, my space, my flesh, had all been for naught. It didn't matter. The proof of this came when I had cooked a meal, that I solely purchased (as my bank account was dwindling), prepared and presented to my family. After eating, the plates found their way to the kitchen, all except his. He sat upon the floor playing on his laptop and said, "Um, could you come git this?" referring to the plate. In that moment I said, "Oh hell no! He has got to get the eff out of here! This is where the road ends." I thought and wondered, "Wow! How can he think that I am going to be alright with that? Does my behavior indicate that I am willing to be misused and abused? Hmm. Oh well, if it does, let me correct your perception.
My behavior does not connote what I am thinking, or feeling, and it certainly doesn't denote how I will make decisions. You are persona non-grata." If he could leave his children and not show concern for his choices best addressed by, "I ain't perfek." I don't think women are looking for perfection, we are looking for accountability, and reliability. If we, the women, the mothers, did that, we would be flayed before the cross. I know this to be true because I know women who have left their children only to be judged by not only those watching but by my own private thoughts, even though, I UNDERSTOOD WHY and have often secretly longed to do so, lacking only the courage, knowing that I would miss my children too terribly. And so, the question remains, and I would love for men to answer, you can comment anonymously, How Can They?
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Dubbed by Nobility
The Empress has died. It is that simple. People, particularly those in the Afro-Conscious community have chosen to say, "She chose to make her transition." No. To me, The Beautiful One, She who Saw Truth and Lived It has not made a transition. She has died. The news came to me, via text, the Monday morning after Thanksgiving. It read, "Did you hear about Empress? Call me when you can." I said, "She's dead." A phone call from my ex-husband confirmed it.
I did not drop to my knees and yell, tears did not immediately well up in my eyes, however, a wooden shelf in my soul cracked in half and dropped into my ethereal body. "How did we let this happen?" I knew her living situation was not good. I had offered her my home on more than one occasion, she declined the offers. I asked my ex-husband what the cause of death was, he said, "Aneurysm." I do not believe that. She walked around with that aneurysm for YEARS, declining to let them "go into my head" again after one brain surgery. Empress died from neglect and lack of love.
I first met her in 2004. I loved her on sight. She did not know, but I had seen this woman many years before, firstly, at the then called Brooklyn House of Detention on Atlantic Avenue where I accompanied a good friend of mine who had to get her daughter out. She was a Big Black Woman, with locks that went past her shins. She talked about her 13 husbands and how she whipped them with her locks when they got out of line. I thought to myself, "Wow! This woman is special, and not necessarily in a good way." She was impressive though, regal even. As the years passed, I would see her at events that were mainstays for the "Thinking Blacks", Tribute to the Ancestors, DanceAfrica ( BAM as we call it), African Street Festival. I found her a bit imposing to approach, but I always smiled and threw her in with the Beautiful Black People lot. Imagine my joy when she walked down the aisle at an event I was participating in and she was one of the elders blessing me on my journey!
My ex-husband and I were courting at the time. He brought me before her and simply said, "This is her." She looked at me and revealed information that I hadn't yet revealed to ANYONE. She saw, by looking at the bottom of my left foot that I was pregnant. That was October 2004. My daughter was born June 2005. She knew that TOO. She called me, the day after I walked for my Master's Degree, the day after I started clearing my office because I knew that I needed to begin my maternity leave.
"Princess Iyapiphany...what are you doing?"
I caught my breath and laughed. "Hello Empress Umi, I am in labor with this baby." She laughed.
"I knew it. I looked at the moon last night and said, 'Hmm, the baby is coming, she missed the last full moon.' Who is with you?"
"My mom is here and I have called the midwives. They said this may go on all week, and not to be concerned. My mom however, is freaking out. She told them to get their asses over here."
"No Princess. The baby is coming, she will come between 12 or 1 o'clock. You will not be in labor all week. Your mother is correct. Call the midwives back and tell them they need to come over. Where is Supa?"
I made the calls and the people necessary to welcome the much awaited Revealed Light (that is what her name means) enter this realm of existence. Empress always referred to me as Princess, she called many young women princess, but for me, it was as though she saw me. All that I was trying to do, all that I was trying to accomplish and uphold. She was big, bold, and unapologetic. If she saw little me, perhaps I needed to not worry that people were not "getting me." That is what she leaves with me most. We choose the life we live, we have the ability to live it as we desire and we better be happy with what we choose because in the end and at it, You are left to face Yourself.
I did not drop to my knees and yell, tears did not immediately well up in my eyes, however, a wooden shelf in my soul cracked in half and dropped into my ethereal body. "How did we let this happen?" I knew her living situation was not good. I had offered her my home on more than one occasion, she declined the offers. I asked my ex-husband what the cause of death was, he said, "Aneurysm." I do not believe that. She walked around with that aneurysm for YEARS, declining to let them "go into my head" again after one brain surgery. Empress died from neglect and lack of love.
I first met her in 2004. I loved her on sight. She did not know, but I had seen this woman many years before, firstly, at the then called Brooklyn House of Detention on Atlantic Avenue where I accompanied a good friend of mine who had to get her daughter out. She was a Big Black Woman, with locks that went past her shins. She talked about her 13 husbands and how she whipped them with her locks when they got out of line. I thought to myself, "Wow! This woman is special, and not necessarily in a good way." She was impressive though, regal even. As the years passed, I would see her at events that were mainstays for the "Thinking Blacks", Tribute to the Ancestors, DanceAfrica ( BAM as we call it), African Street Festival. I found her a bit imposing to approach, but I always smiled and threw her in with the Beautiful Black People lot. Imagine my joy when she walked down the aisle at an event I was participating in and she was one of the elders blessing me on my journey!
My ex-husband and I were courting at the time. He brought me before her and simply said, "This is her." She looked at me and revealed information that I hadn't yet revealed to ANYONE. She saw, by looking at the bottom of my left foot that I was pregnant. That was October 2004. My daughter was born June 2005. She knew that TOO. She called me, the day after I walked for my Master's Degree, the day after I started clearing my office because I knew that I needed to begin my maternity leave.
"Princess Iyapiphany...what are you doing?"
I caught my breath and laughed. "Hello Empress Umi, I am in labor with this baby." She laughed.
"I knew it. I looked at the moon last night and said, 'Hmm, the baby is coming, she missed the last full moon.' Who is with you?"
"My mom is here and I have called the midwives. They said this may go on all week, and not to be concerned. My mom however, is freaking out. She told them to get their asses over here."
"No Princess. The baby is coming, she will come between 12 or 1 o'clock. You will not be in labor all week. Your mother is correct. Call the midwives back and tell them they need to come over. Where is Supa?"
I made the calls and the people necessary to welcome the much awaited Revealed Light (that is what her name means) enter this realm of existence. Empress always referred to me as Princess, she called many young women princess, but for me, it was as though she saw me. All that I was trying to do, all that I was trying to accomplish and uphold. She was big, bold, and unapologetic. If she saw little me, perhaps I needed to not worry that people were not "getting me." That is what she leaves with me most. We choose the life we live, we have the ability to live it as we desire and we better be happy with what we choose because in the end and at it, You are left to face Yourself.
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