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Gabby Douglas & Simone Biles: Hop off their edges

The Internet can be a cruel and unusual abyss of half-cocked opinions and bargain basement analysis, especially when it comes to Black wom...

Sunday

Lone Star


I was born of a woman who was born of a line of women who were made up of equal parts steel wool and sand paper, and who cut me to the quick often. I am not intentionally abrasive, and rarely ever mean anyone harm. Oddly enough, when my words are intended to cut, no one believes me and rarely take the cues to exit stage left-SCENE OVER!

Entourage is too grand a word for what I travel with through this life, but there is always a whispering audience, hanging on my every word and movement. I don't know what specifically I've done to inspire this phenomenon, but someone's always waiting for me to show my ass.

...there was that time in high school when my boyfriend was wading in questionable waters. How else would he have understood what a dog I thought he was if I hadn't thrown dog food at him [in the hall at school, in front of all our friends]? ...and the lotion and perfume he'd given me for Christmas (I didn't like the way it smelled anyway). The 20th anniversary of my graduation isn't far off, so it would be absurd for that to be held against me. Since then, I've kept relatively cool in most situations... well, except when I slapped that dude at dance class, but he was warned.

None of that should matter now, it's all Black History.

I've got good girlfriends who throw zingers like boomerangs, only they return to the victim, not the thrower, and hit them twice. It's a practice that seems widely accepted, unless they're just traveling bands of snarks. Maybe snarks of a feather flock together, hence my membership in this club.
--side note: it always makes me laugh when folks pride themselves on their own "keepin it real" isms are the first to be offended by another's truth, but so be it...

I know these exercises in verbal vulnerability are only going to expose me to a whole new group of Miss-understanders (cuz they're usually women). These growing pains are going to leave CRAZY stretch marks when it's all said and done. Wherever I wake up between this Era of Truth and the next should be interesting. My curiosity is already piqued, questioning which friends will remain standing, which will be shed and who will be in the ______# reincarnation of my informal posse. <substitution for entourage>

The landscape on this journey is constantly changing.

Watch me move.

1 comment:

  1. eyes here. readin this brings me back ta tha first interation eye experienced uv u. at tha international afrakan arts festival in bklyn. ur screen name then was mother-sister. a u that was grounded & down ta earth. in our exchanges. u were always candid. frank. straightforward. & makin it plain. if ur wurds kut. there were surgical. followed soon behind wif anti-septic. & perhaps its a more powerful imagery than simply healer b/c sum uv tha trauma we continue ta experience as afrakans. men. women. community. requires triage. invasive procedures. on sum billie holiday my funny valintine motif... 'dont change ur hair fa me'. eye onli got one kwestion tho. whi is ur ass hangin out in this picture?

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