Kitty Makes Me A Girl

I was exchanging texts with my friend, StarPower, about Monday Night Raw before the conversation shifted to UrbanErotika™, an event I co-produced and StarPower performed in about 2 weeks ago. He told me that I looked really nice that night. I had received a few compliments the night of the show and accepted his gracefully as well. I told him I should “dress like a girl more often”, or maybe I just needed reasons to.

The next morning, I had an “aha” moment of sorts and decided to wear a skirt. I was making a few stops that day and I figured I would be comfortable enough. I clearly made the right decision when I walked into the APART showroom for Kitty Bradshaw’s 2 Year Blogiversary event. Normally, I’d rock a pair of jeans & a simple top or t-shirt. I didn’t stray from the t-shirt but wore it with my “dangerous curves ahead” skirt. I even wore slight heels and I even threw on some beads. All the attendees that night proved that writers and bloggers aren’t homely creatures with no fashion sense.

World Cup Of Love

I’ve been on South African time since June 11. And it’s been worth every second. I’ve gotten used to the early mornings. This event is very consuming, I’ll admit. I still wake up in time for the 7:30am games that are no more (moment of silence). I’ve noticed a lot more enthusiasm and fervor surrounding this World Cup. Probably because I’m older, I’m more aware of these things. Or could be because the world is converging on Africa….

I grew up in a home with two immigrant parents, so watching the World Cup was the norm. Of course I didn’t go to bars to watch and I didn’t know if any of my friends were into it, but the excitement was still there. I called my father before the Super Eagles’ games during this tournament to gauge the excitement level. Yes, he cut the conversation short so he could go watch. I ain’t mad at all. I even remember in my youth and naiveté taping the World Cup finals (It could be ’94 but I think France won the year I taped so that would be ’98) so my father could watch the game when he got back from Nigeria. He appreciated the gesture but had watched the game live. Duh! It’s the World Cup. Everyone’s watching.

You Are A Piece Of Meat

On Saturday night, I went to a burlesque show (shout out to Brown Girls Burlesque!). Yes, I, a straight woman, went to a show to watch other women take off their clothes in dramatic and seductive fashion. As always, I thoroughly enjoyed it. The show started with a dancer who wasn’t doing burlesque. She paid homage to old school with her denim mini, fishnets, high-top Converse sneakers and a tank top. A group of lesbians across the aisle were very vocal about how they wished her titty would pop out of her tank top as she popped and locked; they were trying to will a nip-slip. The requests to have performers sit on their laps (not part of the show), the “goddamns” when a performer would bend over or when a member from the audience went on stage for an interview segment (said audience member was very slim; I’m surprised she didn’t topple over her breasts were so big).

It got “worse” as the show went on. They commented loudly about who they like and what body part. One lesbian in the group said the burlesque dancer looked so good she’d choke her out while in bed. My reaction was, “Wow, these lesbians are worse than men! Let’s examine this briefly. See, it can be viewed as “unfortunate” but I’m used to men cat-calling, making sexually objectifying comments. It’s not right, and it does make many women uncomfortable, but I’ve learned to ignore it or defend myself.

M_______________Accepts With Pleasure

I’m very dismayed that I have yet to receive a wedding invitation this season. Don’t let my quest for a divorce fool you, I really do enjoy weddings. Last May, I went to a friend’s wedding and had my girlie moments from the start: Was my dress ok? Did my booty jiggle obscenely as I traipsed in my heels? Would my strapless bra stop resting on my stomach? –you know, the usual concerns.

A Brief History Of My Natural Hair

This essay was originally published in the Mahogany Soul Nappy Journey newsletter (June 2010). Subscribe and become a fan!

I didn’t have many Afro sisters back when I went natural yet I never considered being natural wouldn’t be accepted. I have been my own hairdresser for a long time, alternating between a relaxer and extensions (sometimes a year at time). When I would take out my braids or twists, I loved how full my roots felt; my natural hair and fingers massaged each other. Till one time I wondered what I would look like if I cut off my “perm”… What would I look like with just my “new growth”? I answered that question with my mother’s sewing shears 10 years ago. My BC was spontaneous; didn’t fill me with angst but excitement. (Note: I think it’s interesting that the transition is known as BC; makes me think of ancient Africa and the religious/spiritual overtones).

The Ties That Bind (or Give Me Free)

The New York Times reported earlier this week that NYS divorce law is about to change. New York State is the only state that doesn’t grant no-fault divorce. The plaintiff must prove cruel and inhuman treatment, abandonment or adultery or the couple must be legally separated for a year before a divorce is granted. What about those of us whose relationships are simply over?

I’ve been in limbo for almost 4 years. I am a single woman who when I meet someone new feels compelled to explain why they may see mail around my place with a hyphenated last name. Or thinking about the future, what if we want to do the “I do”, we won’t be able to. I’m not a fan of long, drawn out divorce battles. Some may consider divorce an easy out when things get rough. They may believe that couples should “stay together for the children” or they take “till death do you part” literally, are willing to spend years in counseling that doesn’t work or just become apathetic to their spouses. Pish posh. Some relationships end.

Casual Sex Is Still Dead

Nowadays when I have sex, I do a lot of thinking afterwards. I’ve come to realize it’s a sign of growth. Early on in my sexual life, I had an on-to-the-next-one mentality. I rarely looked back. The sex itself was the beginning and the end of the experience with that person. If I had hooked up with a friend, we remained friends but that didn’t mean we remained sexual partners.

Last year, I wrote The Death of Casual Sex and yes, it’s still dead. The older something gets the deader it gets; makes sense, no? Let me explain.

Strange Strokes

Another symbol of my generation passed last week - Gary Coleman. It was sad and I went on a Diff’rent Strokes binge for about two days after and I’m still laughing at what Marlon Wayans posted on Twitter (@MarlonLWayans). He said you know you’re cute when other kids think you’re cute. So true!! Gary Coleman (Arnold Jackson) was ADORABLE.

Last week, Coleman, 42, died of a brain hemorrhage after a fall in his home. When he slipped into a coma, he was taken off life support. I’m still angry and suspicious of the 911 call his wife made after the accident. You can’t predict how you’ll react in a crisis, it’s very common to go into shock, but that is why I need to be with, cohabitate etc. with someone who can save my life like I can save theirs; know CPR, basic First Aid, or have the presence of mind to go get help. What angered me most about the call was Shannon Price (disregarding the possible shock she was in) was useless and not helpful at all.