Friday, August 29, 2008


"Janie had spent most of the day under a blossoming pear tree in the back-yard. She had been spending every minute that she could steal from her chores under that tree for the last three days. That was to say, ever since the first tiny bloom had opened. It had called her to come and gaze on a mystery. From barren brown stems to glistening leaf-buds; from the leaf-buds to snowy virginity of bloom. It stirred her tremendously. How? Why? It was like a flute song forgotten in another existence and remembered again. What? How? Why? This singing she heard that had nothing to do with her ears. The rose of the world was breathing out smell. It followed her through all her waking moments and caressed her in her sleep. It connected itself with other vaguely felt matters that had struck her outside observation and buried themselves in her flesh. Now they emerged and quested about her consciousness."

This is pretty damn close to what/how I've been feeling this past week or so. Since my "break-up" it's really been about getting back out there on the dating scene. I didn't want to spend days and days rehashing the events of the break-up over and over again. What was the point? As a result, I began to engage a few guys I had met along the way. They were all pretty different. They ranged in age from 22-32. From student to self employed. From feminine to masculine. I had my bases covered. I scheduled dates here and there… bowling… dinner… the park… a concert. It was fun. They were great guys, but I questioned how far we could go. Still I entertained and enjoyed the ride, when out of left field this kind of amazing dude presents himself. He's dope. He presented himself from a friend perspective, which I could so vibe with, but the more we talked the more I wondered into territories that expanded beyond friendship.

The homie-lover-friend called the other day. His boyfriend broke up with him. I listened and let him know I was "sorry." I thought I would get sucked back in… but all I could think about was picking up my conversation with this dude. I regard him with wonder.

Monday, August 18, 2008

Why Emil Wilbekin won't be on the "Do Right Man" List

In recent years I have grown weary of the diluted content in most magazines, especially those that specifically target the African American population. This weekend I happened to pick up a copy of Essence while waiting for my homegirl to get ready for dinner out in the city. It was the "Do Right Men" issue. It profiled black men that are on point in all aspects of their lives. They have it together professionally, they give back to their communities and they are all single (there is a section for married men) and attractive. Why not call it "Straight, Single, Sexy Black Men?" I did mention that all the men were straight, right? I thought for a second that I was maybe being a taste too sensitive, yet upon further evaluation I thought nay. This is Essence that we are talking about here - the magazine that went on a witch hunt, deeming that sisters should be leery because their men could be on the down low. The message that is promoted here is that you can not be a good brother if you fall into certain categories - gay and or unattractive men need not apply - at least that's the underlying implication in my mind. I know the old saying “that all the good ones are gay," which is not true, but when the focus is placed on orientation it almost negates his "goodness." It forces me to call a number of things into question. As black women sound the battle cry that there are no good men - I scream back “Yes, there are, they just may not look like the ones featured in Essence." And really what black women are saying when they say "that all the good ones are gay" is he looks good on paper and that's what I want. The interest isn't on the MTA worker that may in fact be a really good brother. Articles like this are a disservice to black women. It cause them to become entrenched in this Hollywood constructed idea of what you should aspire to have. It also proves to be a disservice to black men, as this "salute" creates a chasm - that "good" is only equated by certain qualities. I guess we shouldn't hold our breath in anticipation for a list that would include Emil Wilbekin or Keith Boykin.

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

Changing My Password

As far back as I can remember, whenever I'm dating someone, or am in a relationship, I tend to use that person's names as password - be it to log into my email, login at work or as some sort of test question if just in case I forgot a password. I know it sound a little crazy, probably even a little unsafe, but I guess the psychology behind it is that serves as a reminder of that person and your association with them as something special. Whatever the case, this morning I logged in at work, and I was informed that my password expires in 2 days. I had an option to change it now or wait. I laughed to myself because my login is the home-lover-friend's name, and as of this morning our relationship has expired. I always knew I would know when it was time. That I would have to be prepared however the situation went down. I'll spare too many of the detail, but it wasn't the best experience… It was needed though. What I found out was that his was this unsated desire to be at a higher place of enlightenment- knowing and understanding the language, the correct responses and even helping other to explore and examine themselves, all while avoiding the situation himself. How easy it was for him to point out things that I should work on, when he wasn't really willing to do any work of his own. I was made to even believe that I had created this whole relationship… he said that I didn't even have the qualities that he would want from someone in a relationship. He said he couldn't understand why I would even think that he would leave his boyfriend of four years for me. It stung. Yet, we would lie together in his bed; hard flesh pressed against soft, when he needed a listening ear I was there, when he needed financial help I was there - so I was a bit thrown. So you're a user? I was even blamed for "disrespecting" his relationship with his boyfriend - though his licking and tasting, telling me he loved me and inviting me to mother's day dinner were not forms of disrespect? I had misinterpreted it all.

I thought that I would be sad… that I wouldn't be able to get out of bed this morning… that I would cry… but I'm actually ok. I that's not the kind of "love" I want. Despite his methods, he taught me so much and I can only appreciate that. We had begun to work on some things professionally together, so I'm trying to figure out how to resolve these things without there being a lot of complication. I understand my place in all of this. I understand my error. I take it. But when it's so fucked up… it's just that… so fucked up.

So this morning… instead of waiting two days… I change my password.