i want...

it's less than a month 'til my birthday. and i have a wishlist a mile long.

now, i have what i need, generally speaking. so this isn't meant to be a long complaint. but i think it's worth getting in touch with the (mostly) little things i'm desiring right now and give voice to all the little bits and pieces of "lack" in my life.

so here goes {this will be a living document...}:

cash is always welcomed...

an awesome new place to do yoga. {suggestions for studios welcome...PG county or NE DC would work best...or within walking distance of a metro station.}

a pretty new compact mirror.

a new wallet.

shoes. in the sensible department, i need at least 2 pairs of boots (black and brown) and 2 1 pair of flats (also in black and brown). just for fun: stilettos.

pretty scarves

all these books

i'm starting to crave a laptop...

miniskirt

fishnets

spring skirts 

cardigans

a new blush brush. or a whole new set of makeup brushes. why not.

snake jewelry!! this is a nice start. and don't forget the matching earrings...

the new orleans voodoo tarot deck 

reconciliation

a recent conversation with a sistafriend has led to reexamine my relationship with ogun...

it has been true for me that the african spirits have settled into familial spaces.  i have fathers, mothers, aunties, cousins...ogun is like that distant, elder uncle who doesn't always come to the family functions, but when you really need him, he's there with that extra money, the "spontaneous" pep talk, the warm, tight hug--the perfect thing to make it better.

you may not know him all that well--maybe he lives far away, or just happened to be around a lot when you were a baby--but, almost inexplicably, he knows you.  well. 

the first time i saw an ogun shrine, i thought, whoever that is, i don't think i want anything to do with him.  little did i know how closely he was walking with me, and the ways he'd eventually manifest in my life.

over time, i came to love ogun.  i learned more about him, and, suddenly, he was all around me: in urban wooded areas and not-so-urban ones, on the railroad tracks scattered through the city.  i even came to recognize his influence on my (paternal) family.  it dawned on me that he's always loved and watched over me.

almost two years ago, i endured some drastic changes--including suffering a deep wound left by one of his sons.  i still praised ogun in my libations and other prayers, but, admittedly, we became estranged as i leaned heavily on other "family members" to get through the transitions.

more likely, i estranged myself as he sat in the forest and waited...  

this morning, i listened to yolanda adams sing "step aside" and immediately thought of ogun.  tears flowed, and i remembered the way he's always embraced me, held me up, pushed me to acknowledge and embody my strength.  more than once, he has wiped my tears and assuaged my heartache.  when my pain turned me away from him, he understood and let me go.  even then, i know he always made sure someone was looking out for me.  maybe he even kept an eye on me through esu.

today, i thank you, baba. from the bottom of my heart.  modupe for all your blessings--seen and unseen. modupe for taking care of me--even as fear and hurt kept me from you. i truly do love you. 

ase o.

keep your laws off my body

loving every word of this...

stirring the pot

saw this via facebook today:



by force or otherwise, many great-to-the-nth-power grandparents and other ancestors of black folk were also the result of mixed-race unions. however, due to societal conventions or just straight up slave status, they had to stay "black"--unless they could pass or you were in louisiana or something like that.

however, given a choice, we don't necessarily know how they would have identified.

who would they have married?
who would we be/what would we look like as a result?

without all the one-drop rules and slave codes, i wonder if black identity in america would have emerged more along the lines of various latin@ cultures or the métis of canada. and let's not forget that whitefolks have lost quite a bit of history and ethnic identity by being lumped into the american salad bowl.

the parents' consciousness is also a factor. if you wanna just be "american", ok.  if you have a deeper understanding around your family history/identity and participate in your various cultural traditions, a different understanding might emerge. 

i also noticed that this trailer seems to focus on african-european parentage.  i'm told there's a whole other conversation that happens around having two parents of color (e.g., bi-cultural parentage among west indians, (afro) latin@/african-american, asian/african, etc.) that often gets overlooked in the typical american obsession with black/white relations. 

either way, it looks like an interesting documentary, and--given the changing demographics of this nation--something we need to begin talking about. 

to be tired.

i've noticed that when i'm fatigued, i walk a very fine line between ecstasy and exhaustion.

i never want to wear myself out to the point of illness...but the way my walls come down is nearly addictive.

a very specific kind of clarity.

creativity glitters in the cracks made by alarm clocks and stress dreams.

the world and everyone in it becomes beautiful.

etc.

it's an interesting thing...

shadows, part 2

the queen of swords is another part of my darkness.*

although i don't like that this description harps on the negative, this is very true:

Personality is cautious and clever. Can be cunning, destructive and manipulative. She is often aloof and distant. She keeps her distance and puts up barriers around herself. She displays an air of unemotional responses... Beneath her facade she hides much previous emotional pain and/or hardship. She has learnt how to survive. She is a woman alone. She is either a widow, divorced, a spinster or without a loving partner. She may have spent a long time on her own and keeps up her defences and her sword drawn to protect her at all times. She has a fondness for red roses...

She feels more in control if she can avoid having too deep feelings for anyone, lest they puncture her heart and give her reason to despair. She can become big hearted if in the right company and circumstances and when she feels safe and secure. There is hope for her and she is wise enough to know it. She is symbolic of the rose, seductive and potentially dangerous, capable of cutting the skin and making it bleed, yet the soft velvety petals can blossom into the most beautiful arrangement and captivate your heart. She is wistful and reflective, serious yet sensuous, yet always alert. She is capable of being the Goddess or the crucifier.

i am grateful that i've learned more about her higher aspects than her lower ones.  when i've been hurt, my empathy is the water to my initial fiery flare.  i've been blessed with a foundation of love...and that keeps me balanced, too.

but i keep a shining, well-sharpened machete handy...and always will.


*in my light, i am the empress and the high priestess.

black mermaid...

if you've read this, it's easy to see why this song means so much...

enough

i can get overwhelmed by all the "bad" news and bad news parading as "information" that folks seem to focus on...

i wonder if i'm making a difference, if i can make a difference...what my niche truly is. 

and even if i find it, will that make a difference?

i'm not an "activist", per se.  i'm not in the streets constantly uplifting (or yelling about) a cause. i don't feel the need to browbeat people into understanding...well, anything, really.

i care. i keep an eye on what's going on in the world. i don't shy away from the uncomfortable or the undesirable.

i try to live in a way that makes my ancestors proud.

is that enough?

do i have to be loud?
does everyone have to know my name?
do i have to wear my allegiances on my chest?

i seek the wisdom of the quiet elders. 
it would do no good to drown them out.

still, i'm always asking, am i doing enough? being enough?

am i missing something, or looking at the wrong examples?

sometimes, it's hard to know.

drumming while female

i've been thinking seriously about owning a drum. for several reasons.

i know a lot of sistas can be intimidated into thinking that they can't/shouldn't/never did drum, but we do, and we did.  this knowledge is reemerging from many sources.

From a metaphysical standpoint, women are natural receptors. As such, we, often unknowingly, pull in the energies of our environments. The added bonus is that we also have the bonus ability to transmute. Any toxicity we pull in can be changed and released to the community or cosmos for greater benefit. Personally, I become much more psychically in tune with my environment when I drum, and can feel when something is in or out of sync. Our ancient foremothers knew these secrets as they gathered in secret during the mooncycles to trance dance and drum these energies into personal and collective empowerment. Today's woman has lost touch with these practices, but tries to subconsciously transmute by partying, obsessive exercise, drinking, shopping...all in an effort to shift the toxic energy that has been built up from daily living.

Buy a drum.

You will be delightfully amazed at how beneficial just five to fifteen minutes of drumming is for you. And when you drum, pray. Mentally focus your intention. Bond with the energy of your instrument and make magick. Extend the time as you go further into your drumming meditation. You'll find yourself trancing out as Queen Nyabinghi's drummers did as they were possessed of her warrior spirit. You may have ancestors come to your aid. [source]

also check out layne redmond's research, obini bata, and this blog that seems to have quite a bit of information on female drummers in west africa.

the radiant night queen

in recent divination, i've pulled this card more than i can remember.  Inanna's mantra in the deck is "embracing the shadow".

when i first seriously began exploring this aspect of myself, i mentioned how i gravitated to Pomba Gira, a spirit revered in brasil's umbanda tradition.

it was a sudden introduction--similar to the forceful wind that blew Ezili Danto into my life--and followed closely by a compulsion to wear some combination of red and black whenever possible. 

by now you'd think i'd be used to the endless curves in Spirit's roads. but, they can still take me by surprise.

stay with me, now...

Pomba Gira is often depicted as a roma (gypsy) woman. word has it that the roma came to europe from india.

india--particularly the south--has deep, often obscured connections to africa, as evidenced through the indus kush civilization and the cultures of the various adivasi groups. many of these people are african in appearance, and they are considered to be the indigenous people of that nation.

so when i retrace my steps, coming to understand my shadow-spirit as a devadasi* warrior queen with a river of onyx hair doesn't seem so unusual.  she is still, at her core, an afrikan woman.

she speaks:

deeply brown skinned child of an indigo-black mother, i am devoted to the temple and my people.  i know the power of the sword and of the heart. 

my aura precedes me.  i stand fully in my sensuality, empowered by my priesthood--a child of the Love Goddesses.  i carry all the mysteries of womanhood deep in my garnet womb.      

upon my throne, i am an entity beyond the control, reach, or comprehension of any man, even as i haunt their dreams.  i am dazzling in fine fabrics, jewels and radiant flesh. equally full of bawdy, ribald humor, i can blend into the seediest tavern without detection or molestation. 

i am always, fully myself.  i speak my truth. 

i respect all who approach me confident in an understanding of their full selves.  

i remain appropriately humble, but i never cower.  

the spirit of balance and reciprocity is my breath.  i fearlessly face and resolve my karma.

fear, hesitation, and unwarranted self deprecation have no place in my house. Royalty Knows Itself. 

...and she is me. 
  

*i've only skimmed (with intent to read) it so far, but this work purports to trace the historical/cultural evolution of the devadasis from their status in ancient times to the implications of their lives and work--such as it is--today. i wanted to post it for the sake of perspective.

i am speaking of all this from a spiritual perspective and, as such, i am considering the higher aspects of the tradition, the work, and its intent--as i recall them in my spirit and through Divinity. i am aware of many of the ways in which the culture and traditions of india are being exploited and warped to disenfranchise adivasi people--sometimes known as dalits, tribals, etc.--and the issues surrounding sex work there. however, that is probably all the more reason we are called to remember the older, more original truths, so that we can reclaim the ancient wisdom, heal, and renew ourselves.

short memory, long history

in all the discussions about what's going on with black folks, i often hear references to things like post traumatic slave syndrome, the industrial prison complex, loss of identity and culture, etc.

i agree with these explanations, and we should definitely be aware of them.  however, what i rarely see woven into the conversation is the more recent history that has decimated our communities and placed gaping holes in our historical memories.

vietnam scarred our parents' generation and layered generalized PTSD onto our other wounds.  many were lost during the war, but we'll never know how many were lost in the streets after it.   

in the 80s, the crack epidemic and reganomics formed a perfect storm in urban america.

on its heels, the early days of AIDS wiped out scores of queer elders, simultaneously claiming the intravenous users crack left behind.

but even before all this, before integration and the civil rights movement, there was the destruction of places like rosewood and tulsa's black wall street.  we had our own businesses, banks, goods and services, schools and social supports. but when we got too good at it, we were often put back in our place.  

despite it all, we have survived and thrived. no doubt about that. still, when we start to wonder "what went wrong?" i think we can have a tendency to reach back a little too far for the answers.

the fact is, in the last 30-40 years, we've lost many--known and unnamed--who could still be singing songs, writing words, and painting pictures to inspire, enlighten and lead us.  mentors who could have ushered us over the ground we seem destined to endlessly retread--because we're leaving too young to tell our stories and share our gifts.

just a thought.

so when the scripts start running for the millionth time, stay mindful. dig deeper.

this year...

...is going to be a great one.

happy 2011, y'all.

uganda (reconciling ministries network)

lots of questions/issues here...

why are they so stuck on white american christians and their messages of christianity? wouldn't it make more sense to at least flock to some black folks for these "messages"?

what's with the emphasis on sex?

oh, and...gay folks forced hitler to kill...gay folks? ok.

there needs to be some education around the differences between fetishistic practices (the recurring poo-poo theme...) and other forms of sex/sexuality.

while we're at it, let's also get into discerning the difference between sexual abuse and what happens between safe, sane, consenting adults.

and, ultimately, is having more africans killing other africans (in africa, no less) in any way a good thing? guess no one thought about it that way. everyone just wants to help the children...

personally, i'd love to hear about what ugandans believed before the anglicans and the catholics came around, 'cause i have a hard time accepting the idea that homosexuality is somehow being thrust upon this nation, but the garbled "word" of a foreign, presumably white god wasn't. or is the bible more ugandan than i thought?

praying for true, healing enlightenment, respect for life, and a return to OUR ways.

an unconventional love letter

hi,

as i was emailing a friend this morning, the idea of writing you a letter came.  i suppose it's time for me to consolidate some thoughts and say some things "aloud".

i have this thing about marking psychic milestones, and writing allows me to release and move forward.

so here i am. 

i've been through quite a bit in the last 16 months or so, and part of that journey has involved learning exactly how being with you changed me.

at first, it seemed like just about everything that happened was for the worst. deep down, i always relied on the understanding that rewards accompany all challenges; if i held out long enough, it would all bear fruit. i knew i could eventually turn the negatives into new strength, new opportunities. even as i berated you and myself for the time i'd "lost" with you, i knew patience was my best defense.

but initially, i was just angry. horribly, horribly angry. i wanted my life back. i wanted my heart back. i couldn't believe i loved you, stood by you, defended you. how could i ever think you were the man i was going to spend the rest of my life with?

that anger popped up in various spaces and places. i even thought i was going to have to disappear from the internet for awhile.  honestly, i'm sure i could still be triggered, but those moments are few and far between.  i use any residual anger and hurt as a reminder to never put myself in an emotionally lopsided position again.

i forgave you some time ago, but i will never, ever forget. i'm sure that's part of the reason a friendship isn't in the cards for us.

my boundaries are probably firmer than they've been in decades. only in my childhood journals have i expressed such a surety of self.  i suppose i've come full circle. 

i know it is not "cruel" that i am unwilling to love potential, that i demand actualities before handing over my heart.

i know love, on its own, is not enough. it is beautiful, it feels good, and it's always a blessed gift.  but love is only the mortar--it doesn't excuse you from making the bricks. 

similarly, i know i can feel, express, and receive love without over-giving, over-sacrificing, or over-committing.

i have always had a peaceful nature. now i understand the true depth of that peace, that it IS me, and no one can disturb it or take it away as long as i am centered in my true selfhood.

i live with my eyes open, using my gift for empathy to protect myself instead of constantly attempting to save or heal someone else (exceptions made for the deserving/reciprocal).  i stay aware of where people are in their various processes, and i listen to my intuition on how to deal with them. the unaware, the ill-attuned, the deniers and psychological procrastinators are easily recognized. the unworthy and ill-prepared are quickly removed from my life, and i let them go with gratitude.

i try to remain mindful that, if you cross my mind or someone else mentions you, i should think good thoughts. sometimes i succeed, sometimes i don't. still, if i come up short the result is more a detached indifference vs. "i can't stand that fool."  i continue to work on it.

i know my healing will continue for the foreseeable future. i look forward to the day when i can say i am running on my new legs with renewed confidence. i know i'm almost there.

i don't know who i would have been if i'd never loved you, but i can definitely say that i love the woman i am now.  pain can shape us with the same power and precision as love does. the heartache, heartbreak, tears, lonely nights and everything else i endured during our relationship molded me.

all that said, i can finally take a deep breath and, in a certain shade of love, say, "thank you for the lesson. thank you for the challenge. it made me better."

in that same breath--or the next--i also know i will never again submit to that same suffering in the name of loving.  

i'm looking forward to receiving the love that will complement, support, nurture, and care for me in all the ways i need and want.  until that day, i am crystal clear in the knowledge that i am enough, that i contain universes and worlds within me, that i know whose i am.  i can take care of myself--all my selves.  i have new trust in myself.

for those things, i remain continually and immensely grateful.

may you be led to the love, healing, and peace you desire. although i cannot walk that road with you--and no longer desire to--my highest self still wishes you the best.

in peace,

o.

THANK you. FINALLY.

someone said it:

So it is extremely intellectually disingenuous to suggest that a specific critique is exactly the same as a fullscale attack. It seems that what you are really saying is that racism beats Black men down so much, that even when they do sh*t that’s clearly egregious, we should let it go, so that we don’t ally with THE MAN against Black men. And that argument is the height of whackness, not to mention the fact that it makes me think you’re living in 1970 and not 2010.

We make no apologies for critiquing brothers when they deserve it, or for speaking unapologetically about the concerns of sisters. We also don’t buy the logic that our failure to speak about every instance of sexist activity in the mainstream undercuts the legitimacy of our feminist politics or makes us call Black men into question. If you had actually checked out the articles on this site, you would see that in the last week, the most viewed article was a critique of Regis Philbin for grabbing Nicki Minaj’s ass. And the comments that we got from many brothers was that she deserved it.

So since many of you aren’t down for the cause, we are down for own. Unapologetically.

this is an excerpt from one of crunktastic's comments, but you can see the entire, fabulously executed post here.

love energy

i was listening to an awesome radio show yesterday, and one of the hosts touched on the depth (or height, as it were) of the sacred energies created by a man and a woman dedicated to sacred relationship.

while i was glad there was no outright disparaging of same sex couples, it made me think of the energy i've observed with those relationships.

a few disclaimers: i'm staying within the binary because that's generally been my experience, at least to outer understanding.  also, i'm speaking from the standpoint of energy, not person-to-person dynamics as such. in other words, this is about what my "antenna" pick up when i strip away the "stuff" and get to the essence of the thing.  finally, for brevity's sake, i'm sticking to monogamy. 

i agree that man/woman complements create the highest vibration in the sense of creation, since this is the coupling where physical creation takes place. this is how the energy of loving comes together to create new, actual people. of course, that serves a crucial purpose.

womyn complements form an energy of creation in a different sense--art for art's sake, in a sense. there is an intimate, deep knowing, and a safety rarely seen in man/woman complements--with the possible exception of elder couples who have spent most of their lifetimes together.  womyn together seem to craft this space in far less time and at a younger age.  

complements involving two men form a cone of strength and manifestation. they emit amazing degrees of actualization, determination, drive and power. it is almost like being near the sun. i wonder if it is this drive, particularly when manifested by black men in relationship, that makes folks so uncomfortable.  because, you see, black men aren't supposed to be or do anything. put two of them together and in love, and...yeah.

this is why i've come to consider any intimate relationship rooted in a spirit of love, reciprocity,  respect, and mutual benefit as sacred, regardless of how the people in that relationship identify themselves.  it takes all kinds of energy to keep the world going 'round.


sidebar (or, blog 1.2): one of my major concerns is that there is an emphasis on tossing non-hetero relationships into the realm of abnormality or dysfunction--in ways both subtle and overt--with absolutely no analysis around the quality of relationships themselves.

yes, the "hedonistic gay man" can be a problem, but so can the straight "pimp/playa". making all hetero relationships automatically "ok" is highly problematic for its own reasons (see: marital rape apologia, domestic violence, and the acceptance of wholesale child abuse).  we have to become more aware of these dynamics so we do not fall into dangerous, false hierarchies that keep us separate from and oppressing one another.

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...

some thoughts on world aids day

for many around the world, no reminders are necessary.

this dis-ease has entered our communities, depopulated our families, affected our loved ones.

it is a presence. like billie holiday's heartbreak.

the good news is that we know how to prevent it. we have ways to treat it.

we can fight.

with education, compassion, and care, we will win.

deja vu all over again

i don't think this season is going to be an easy one.

last year was a nice respite. i think i was ecstatic to not have to be worried about the annual fight/breakup. guess that high's worn off.

considering some of the breakthroughs i've been having, it's no wonder i'm sensitive all over again.  

i've gotta remember to keep my oyin ori handy.   

remember sweetness. remember sweetness. it wasn't always bitter...remember...

singlehood chronicles #8

i am still stuck on this:

Over the weekend, I got to hang out with some CFs in Atlanta, all single, or kind of single, and primarily straight. Each of us found ourselves in varied states of relational ambivalence: loving or liking someone who doesn’t quite love (or like) you back, at least not in the way you deserve; fearful of trying to date again after years of disappointment and failed expectations; and recovering from heart break or at least deeply hurt feelings. Yet, we are all also unapologetically pragmatic about getting our needs met even when conditions prove non-ideal. As a pragmatist, I had to ask, “is it feminist to remain in a situation where you aren’t getting what you need or want, but you are at least getting something?” What I heard was a collective groan, as we all thought it through. And then after that, a painful, collective, and resolved sigh.

No, probably not. But it is what it is...

And IT is the condition in which we find ourselves. Perpetually alone. Needing love, needing companionship, needing sex. But willing to settle for less than, if only for a moment, even as the sermons, feminist and otherwise, play in the background. Is love enough? In the lonely moments of an otherwise full life, love definitely seems like the solution, like the stitching that turns a beautiful piece of fabric into the form-fitting number that accentuates the best parts of yourself. For all of us who don’t have the love that we so desperately want, it most definitely feels like enough.

But is it really?

i know it's not enough for me.

sometimes, the "close, but no cigar" moments leave me just as despondent, heartbroken, and sore as a ended relationship would.  still, like crunktastic, i find myself asking, "what would i have otherwise?"

sometimes i feel brave, loving how i can, where i can. but when i get frustrated, the part of me that needs one true, real love feels like i'm selling out.

i'm still trying to reconcile those selves...balance the needs with the wants, the reality with my dreams.

the only thing i'm sure of is that it has to be a sin that we cannot love better than this. that freedom, intelligence, and depth seem to make you a lonelier woman, rather than a cherished, genuinely sought after one. 

thus sayeth my moment of vulnerability.

*re-armors and picks up sword*

i'm still a soldier.