power to the people

i love dancing flash mobs, but this is one i could totally get with.

shadeism

you know why white supremacy sucks?

this:


Shadeism from Shadeism on Vimeo.

i can't believe that these beautiful, brilliant young women would think of themselves as anything less than divine creations.

i can't believe people of color are still hung up on this.

i am continually grateful that i grew up in a family that did not laud their light skin over others....even though many of us could have.

it makes me sick that we are so eager to "blend in" because the global minority somehow got this game on lock.

don't get me started...

self love #5

typically the "self love" posts are more about imagery than words, but inspiration led me to take some good but "too hot for blogger" shots, so i won't be going there.

but i can say that i gained a new appreciation for the ridges and ripples my lovers enjoy.

i got a view of my tummy that made me want to kiss it.

i learned that maybe i shouldn't be so critical of the slope of my breasts; they look very different from outside angles.

my thighs aren't as fat as i think they are.

twisted and turned a certain way, i am full of mountains, valleys, hills and waterfalls.

one shot put me in mind of a melting golden candle.

so, yeah. it's good to be me.

i'm tired and it's late & i need to go to bed

but
um
i'm feelin'

delicious
and beautiful
and wanted
sweet
desireable
adored
interesting (and interested)
new
old
and all that good stuff.

...and i ain't got to choose.

*jezebel grin*

nighty night, love muffins!

mirror, mirror

last night i decided to appreciate myself a bit. i took a warm bath, did a full shea butter moisturizing routine, and took a look at myself.

it's one thing to have lovers tell you what makes you lovely...it's another to take in those aspects of you for yourself and see if you agree...

honey used mention that i was heart-shaped. i realized i am. my hips and pelvic mound form a sort of double heart.

the bottom i've lamented losing doesn't look bad when i'm on my hands and knees, even if it's not as bootylicious as it once was.

my breasts aren't as full as they were, but still pretty in their teardrop way. i've always thought they were shaped a little strangely, but i'm appreciative of them just the same.

i enjoy the color of my skin
my body art
the shape of my thighs
the elegance of my hands...

i suppose i can understand why i've caused one or two folk to fall for me over the years.

giggle

pardon my shimmer, beautification in progress

having recently realized how deeply affected i am by beauty, i have decided to beautify my life.

i don’t mean this on a wholly superficial level, but more a project designed to entice and enhance the senses; indulge my sensual self with the goal of discovering my true loves, passions, desires, and needs. it is also a means to spiritual symmetry and loveliness.

i am making an effort to dress in ways that are comfortable, yet flattering. since i’ve (unintentionally) gone down about 1 size, i’m having to rediscover what fits, what doesn’t, how my body has reshaped itself.

i bought a lovely new journal on my birthday. i’ve been carrying one kind of notebook or another with me daily for some time, scribbling thoughts and other things as they arise. the new, beautified journal was part of a commitment to (a) buy no more anonymous, spiral notebooks and (b) no longer compartmentalize my thoughts/feelings/words (typically i’ll have the "daily" notebook, something for poetry, a diary for journaling, another for spiritual matters, etc.).

the goal: regain my flow, let things spill out wherever they please. get messy. become reacquainted with myself.

so don’t mind the extra honey and glitter sprinkled around wherever i may happen to be at any given moment. i’m just working out a few minor details.

listen up & pay attention...

why our 'flaws' are beautiful

...the quotes around "flaws" are mine 'cause i don't really see them as flaws.

that scar is a survival story.
wrinkles are the mark of a crone.
in parts of africa, gapped teeth are considered a beauty mark.

and so on.

amen & hallelujah to these women for flaunting what they "shouldn't".

adupe, yemonja

i had forgotten how beautiful the ocean is.

the waves, the sand...the joy of effortlessly discovering beautiful seashells with each step.

the sense of homecoming...

i'm beginning to feel--literally & figuratively--like i can breathe again.

yeah, so...

the hair might have to go.

gotta get some "before" pics first...or maybe not.

the idea scares me. my hair's never been as short as it will be if/when i take some scissors to it. even when i first went natural i grew it out so i had a nice sized 'fro first.

i love my hair. it's beautiful. i'd always wanted locs and i was proud of myself for making the commitment and experiencing the journey. i am fairly convinced that i will loc my hair again in the future.

even so, i can't ignore the energy factor here. that whole area of my body feels almost...heavy, loaded. conflicted, in a sense. there's something underneath all this hair and all these memories that's trying to break loose.

there's a deep, nagging need for liberation, freedom--and it's not just related to the job and the writer's block and all of that.

i need to let go.

it's entirely possible that in order to begin the rebirth i've been moving towards, i have to physically take the first step, by my own hand.




mantra: it will grow back.