For those hard to love colored gals

My kinky hairDoes not mean I love God.

Or black people.

My dark skin

Does not equate to “woke-ness”.

I can be very much asleep.

My weave does not make me a sheep.

My full hips and large lips

does not mean you can penetrate my innocence.

(For I am innocent)

My non-ivy league degrees does not mean that I’m green.

I’ve seen piss in hallways.

Drove high-class cars.

Closed my eyes and seen God.

Opened them and seen my mother.

I am not your pioneer for the “angry black girl”

Nor am I the poster child for docility.

I am a black woman.

Not a monolith.

I am God’s gift.

In satan’s world.

More Rants About Nothing.

I am 4 am on your cell phone Professing my undying love

Even though the relationship has been deceased.

I am the reason you live,

And the reason you hate love.

I am your biggest fan

And your brightest star whom shines so brightly

To illuminate only your sky.

I’m mad for you.

And you care not because I was the one who did the choosing.
I wish that I was one of those alluring women

Who know just what to say

And exactly when to leave.

Instead of that brash woman.

Who says too much 

And not enough, especially when in love.
My timing is so off as well.

We used to be on time for church

But now the pew inside me is empty 

And I can no longer lie and say “oh we’re just friends”

That’s a lie.

I cannot be loved.

I don’t know how. 

I squeeze life out of everything.

I am not patient.

You are so slow to love.

And I am so quick to anger.
Yet here we are.

“THA LIST”…

Soo I’ll just jump right into it. I was having a discussion with a close friend about my relationship status. Ya know, the typical “Ima be alone forever, no one will ever love me, I should just walk around in a moo-moo during daylight hours and buy two pittbull puppies” talk. Totally self-deprecating and depressing. My friend allowed me to vent and then asked me the question, “Tonee, what do you actually look for in a guy”. Now y’all know me, so I said my “loves his mama, loves God, pays his taxes” spill. That’s sort of a joke, but kind of true. I figure if he loves his mother than he may have an idea of how to treat a lady, if he loves the lord than he’ll make a good husband and if he pays his taxes than he can provide for this imaginary family that I have concocted. Needless to say, my friend shot these three requirements down.

What do I really look for?

And…. I could not give him an answer. And as I write this I wonder is that weird? I’ll be 24 this year, finishing a Masters in May (we pray) seeking employment at a real job with benefits and a salary with 3 0’s.. I can recite All Falls Down and Get Your Freak On verbatim. I can write a poem about love in 5 minutes, describing why I can’t find it, why it hides from me.. Yet when asked what are my requirements in a significant other… nothing. Absolutely nothing.

I lied. There are things I want, but being the over-thinker I am, I second guess whether they are worthy of being put down. And there lies the problem, if you don’t know what you want, how can you possibly know when you have it? Or even prep to keep it? I know that I want to marry a black man, but will he be soft-spoken, will he be shy? Do I want a macho man (I don’t; I think he would thump me over the head and then my daddy would kill him). I know that I’m flexible on the height requirements, but I cannot bend on whether or not he is a Christian. Also, I’m 30. I’m not 30, but I am old as dirt, meaning men around my age have children. Now, I have a hard time tying my own shoes and remembering to put my durag on at night, let alone playing step-mother. It’s safe to say that a man without children is ideal. But are these the things that go on a list?

The point of this rant/random update is to suggest that perhaps we all should have a list. Another good friend of mine who is married and expecting his first child told me that in college he was so frustrated with dead-end situationships/relationships that he made a list of non-negotiable things he looked for in a woman. If upon meeting someone, they did something that went against the list, they automatically got crossed off the potential bae list. He found his wife literally because she met the criteria.

As I sit here, staring at this blank sheet, pen in my left hand, I challenge you all (whether single, dating or married) to make a list of non-negotiables. Perhaps the problem is not that you can’t find someone, perhaps you don’t even know what you’re looking for. You can’t go in Lowes looking for haircare products (I mean you can but thats dumb and you won’t get what you’re looking for * wink *wink) just like you wouldn’t go to Sephora looking for lumber. I don’t know about you, but I want a family one day. Lord willing I want some nappy headed children, a picket fence, two dogs and a hedgehog. We plan for all things in life; college choices, career, apartments, Tupperware and more. I suggest writing this list, meditating over it, and then praying that God sends you the help-meet you desire. “You have not, because you ask not”. Well I guess I have not because I don’t even know what I’m looking for. Please pray for me and this blank paper cause so far all I can think of is a man that doesn’t wear team jays.

Good night!

Because of the Internet, the World Crashed

I know you read this title and thought, “here she goes again being all crazy and conspiratorial”. And yes, at this point, there’s no room in the inn for my mental and emotional being, but as Kanye so poignantly puts it, “NAME ONE GENIUS THAT AINT CRAZY!”

Anywho, this post should be brief (lettuce pray). So I was having a discussion with a friend and I was telling this friend about my colloquium presentation that’s coming up. For my graduate program you have to do this extensive  presentation on a subject of your choosing that has to relate in some form or fashion back to social work. Well ya girl is an intern at a school, and has the pleasure of shaping beautiful, young minds. (I’m being dramatic, these kids cuss me out, call me bad names, cry on my shoulders and buy me gifts. Our relationship is very tumultuous but I know they mean well) Anywho, I noticed my children all have this insane attachment to their iPads (my students are literally BAD and BOUJEE because they cut up, but each have iPads). These iPads were implemented to help with in-class work and homework. They take tests on them, except when the internet catches the flu which is like every other week, and according to the 6th grade boys, they upload porn videos. (I really love and hate adolescent boys simultaneously) They send evil ass text messages to one another, for example: OMG did you see Sasha’s face. She looks like a cheetoh. Or Wow, how dare that b%^*# look at my boyfriend. We’ve been dating for 3 days; she should know better!

Essentially, all the dumb things we did at that age, they’re carrying the torch, only technologically driven. That note that you dropped in 6th grade that let the entire school know that you farted out of nervousness during your choir performance, and that you’re kissing Bobby  at 3:15 after school is now a text message on an IPad. You’re thinking, great! I sure wish I could’ve emailed Bobby from my iPad. WRONG! I see more students because of cyber bullying than anything else. I have girls come in my office in tears because their chest is flat and their hair is nappy. I even had 6 students of whom I visit with DAILY intentionally start a fight so that they could upload it to IG in the hopes to get famous. Every day I catch a student in a random hallway laboriously texting, checking IG, Snapchat (by the way what the HELL does a 9 year old need with Snapchat. Hey guys, look at the homework I’m about to do. Totally turning up this weekend at Urban Air. Ho, sit down!)

Okay this is a rant. 

So listen, my colloquium presentation is going to center around the negative impact the internet, as well as technology has on the human psyche. Y’all, we are BOMBARDED with images daily. I know for me, I check Facebook and people are married, getting married, dating, having children, going to PA school, juggling basketballs while singing Bad and Boujee synonymously, and I’m just over here tryna get both socks to match. That’s a hit at my self esteem. I log onto IG and there’s eyebrows on fleek, cheekbones on contour, bundles, boobs, abs, relationship goals! That’s another hit at my self-esteem. Side note, I quit Snapchat. I don’t wanna see your makeup from 12 different angles for 30 minutes and I don’t wanna watch you record a party that you’re obviously not participating in because YOU’RE RECORDING IT! I actually like twitter cause Issa joke er’day and I feel connected. But my point is this, as a society, we are being bombarded every minute of the day with information we don’t need! Why you think ole dude won’t main you? Prolly cause he got 7 other females in his dms and he simply can’t choose who will be the most idealistic. The internet gives us this false sense of reality. We think “oh if the internet says it, it must be true”. If bae likes her picture then they’re prolly together. Let me set a PR for this jump to this raggedy conclusion I’m about to make. I posted this bomb picture. Fade on fleek, lashes on, tummy sucked in, Jays’s pristine. Now I’m sweating like a stripper doing taxes waiting for the results (likes) to come back validating and affirming I’m a dope human being.

I could go much further in discussion, but I’ll save that for colloquium. Moral of the story is, put ya phone down, get from behind your laptop, in front of the tv screen and go see life. Stop tweet watching, it will lead to your demise. Admire ole girl for dropping 30 pounds on IG, but don’t become envious and idolize her. Adopt a workout program and hit the gym. Eat a fruit, and a cookie (I like cookies). Deactivate your FB if you need too. You know you want a relationship and a baby, don’t trigger yourself by logging on to something that may potentially remind you of everything you don’t have, but want. 

In bible study last week, we talked about Guarding our hearts. Well I’m hear to say, guard them eyes. Just like we eat and defecate, the things you feed your mind manifest in your actions. And I’m not here to bash the internet. I am literally using it as we speak. But too much cargo overloads the plane. Control what you see, and put out some positive things into cyber world. I want you to try this. Get yourself slayed for the Gods, go somewhere nice and have fun. Now you ready? Okay. DONT TAKE ANY PICTURES. None. Zilch. Nada. Not of your feet, not of the restaurant, not of Bae’s elbow. NOTHING. Let life happen and revel in the beauty of the moment. That’s why the internet is crashing life, because we’re so busy recording and pushing pause, we’re forgetting to live.

Kids are so dope because they are so pure. They have their entire life to figure how to lie, compromise who they are, compare themselves and more. Take your iPad from your child and play with them sometimes. There is something so beautiful and irreplaceable about human touch. We wonder why in a society so rich, mental health is at an all time decline. As Erykah badu once said “I can make you put your phone down”. Read this post, then go put your phone down and live. 

Peace and Blessings! 

Stop Treating God like a Side-Negro!

Alright those three of you that follow my blog every month or so! Well, I’m back at it. But first, disclaimer; I know the title has you thinking I’m about to reveal some thin line between love and hate foolishness, and although my line name is PHatal AttraKt10n, I am not doing prison time for nobody! Nah my crazy af behavior is more on the “I can’t decide if I’m Kanye West pre- 808’s and Heartbreak, or Lauryn Hill during the Miseducation days. Ya girl’s been out here wilding! Now, we could blame it on this full moon (please go outside and enjoy) or Mother Nature (no need for further explanation, or my date of birth (baby girl is a Gemini-cancer cusp) meaning not only am I nurturing and emotional AF, but I have the potential to be dope and or evil all in the span of 15 minutes. Add all of these factors up and that spells for a rocky past couple of days.

Now like all terrible people of the world, I finally felt bad for my crazy af ways, took responsibility for them, and had a long talk with the man upstairs this past weekend. The beauty of life, as J Cole says “the pain never last”. Not only did I feel better after praying to my awesome God about my woes (how I’m stressed about graduating, how I’m nervous about adulting, how I’m not being the best to those around me and more) but at church the following Sunday the sermon seemed like it was tailored just for my crazy self!

The preacher began the lesson with 1 Peter 5:7 “Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you”. The sermon was essentially about how the Lord should be our comfort and refuge, and that no matter what persecution we face, we need to have an intimate relationship with God. We need to tell him our fears, our worries, the things that excite use and frighten us. That test you’re stressed about, before and after studying, get your mind right and talk to God about easing your mind as you study, and giving you the endurance to see studying through. That depression that’s got you feeling all isolated and frustrated, go meet up with a trusted friend and pray together for mental  strength (as well as walking on over to the BSB because we all know faith without works is dead and the Lord blesses counselors, social workers and psychologists with the brains to nurture those in times of need). That little raggedy boy whom you can’t stop thinking bout, talk to God about it, and ask him if this is truly what he has for you. But don’t be upset at the response! The point I’m trying to make is that God knows all, but you don’t. Talk to him! It’s funny to me how we can become intimate with our cell phones, our twitter accounts, our jobs, real housewives of Atlanta, some nappy head girl, but when it comes to our creator, we draw blanks. And I’m talking to myself when I say all these things so please don’t get defensive. I have been so guilty of treating God like a side-negro. I tell him the bare minimum, sometimes I ignore his phone calls, and I even call him by someone else’s name (i.e. my affinity for Instagram, twitter and Mac and cheese).

God aint no side-negro. And if you’re like me, you’re not crazy af, but you are a looney tune if you out here tryna control life from the backseat. R-E-L-A-X. God’s got you boo, but only if you allow him to. Spend time talking to God, and talk to him keeping in mind that he is the only person who truly knows you and wants what best for you. “You have not because you ask not”. So unzip your straight jacket, take a deep breath, and tell the man whats going on. My God is so good that he’ll not only provide what you want, but what you need as well. And keep in mind, God is not an ATM machine. He don’t owe you squat! Just like any relationship, communication is key! Just like that waterhead boy not texting you back incites you to riot, how do you think God feels when you out here treatin him like a side-negro.

Claim him. He da realest!

 

The Butterfly That Never Flew,

Here lately I’ve been going through some things. The types of things that require 3 hour naps, random visits to bars, hiding in quiet rooms and visiting museums when I’m supposed to be at my internship. I’m almost 25; and for some reason, that fact is literally scaring the poop out of me. I guess you could say that I’m having a “quarter life crisis”. I look to my left and people are securing job positions left right and center; then I look to my right and people are dating, married, and or popping out babies. I look in the mirror and I am doing none of the above.

So, what’s a 24 almost 25 graduate student barely hanging on for dear life to do? Well, I don’t know and at this point life sucks and then we die. Regardless, today is one of those days I took that 3 hour nap after work and internship, therefore making me wide awake.. so.. I’s goin to tell a story. *clears throat

One day on a farm in the middle of nowhere, a butterfly began to burst forth from its cocoon. (This is a short story by the way and not original so don’t sue me) Day after day, the butterfly pushed harder and harder to burst forth from this cocoon, but the wings were not ready. A farmer had been watching the butterfly in this cocoon for a while, and really took sympathy on it. He could tell that the butterfly was struggling, and thought “you know what, I’ll help the butterfly out and slit this cocoon”. So he cut the cocoon with a pocket knife and the butterfly fell to the ground and died..

Now, when my professor told me this story in class today, I thought well damn that escalated quickly. Lol but in all seriousness, unfortunately there’s beauty in this ugly ahhh process. The farmer slit the cocoon too soon and the butterfly’s wings were not fully developed to support its body, therefore it died. What am I saying? Idk. I just be talkin honestly. I guess struggle builds muscles? If you’re like me and not where you wanna be, looking at everyone else and feeling like “Why bother, lemme get on this pole ..” first off, don’t. Strippers don’t have insurance. 

Perhaps everything you are going through now is perfect preparation for life down the road. So you don’t have a relationship? Maybe you’re like me whose “Issa husband’ing” every 5 seconds when in reality “Issa negro whom is just as confused as you”. I don’t know your struggle, but I do know it builds muscles if you fight it. Just don’t slit your cocoon before you’re ready and bust ya ass.. cause that’s no fun.
Good night. Stay black. ✊🏿

Male Attention is Dope! 

So it’s been a while. Obviously my inconsistency is based upon graduate school, work and my newfound passion for all things sleeping. If it ain’t school, internship or church, ya girls been spending quality time with her mattress.

Anywho, something that’s been on my mind lately is… (drum roll please) MEN! Now I know what you’re thinking. Oh Lawd, not THE feminist of Waco, Texas. What penis grabbing, toe stomping, emasculating thing will she concoct to write about now? Well, guess what suckas; I’m being nice today. You couldn’t tell by my haircut and tendency to wear doc martens daily (since women with fades and attitudes can’t be wives *coughs) but, I like em. In fact, I’ve always liked them. Now, whether the love has been reciprocated, ehhh that’s another post for another lovely morning. SO, what about these men are you wondering ? Well, they’re dope! Particular my black men, y’all the dopest! The way you walk in talk, the way y’all look with a fresh fade and the beard connect game on fleek, the way you love your moms and cherish your fathers, the way you can go from Jays and extended Tees to suits and bow ties (lawd I love bow ties) the way my black men are so tough yet so sensitive, LORD! Father God, we thank you for Adam who evolved to Jerome.

Men are dope. And when men give you attention (especially when you are deprived) it is like dope. 

Let me say that again, men giving attention to an attention deprived female is dope. So ladies, I know you have in mind the dopest of them all. As you read this you were like, “yesss das bae on the TL. Issa husband” And guess what, (claps for emphasis) I. Feel. You. The infamous Wale one said “Women will sell their souls just to buy some attention.” Ladies, and you don’t have to raise your hands, who all in here has felt personally victimized by a dope ahh man? Who’s been doing backflips and jumpsplits and being all extra nice when you know that you’re crazy A.F., telling all your friends “Issa husband” when really y’all are barely friends? (Newsflash: its fine.) (Another newflash: You on dope boo). Alas, it’s probably not a husband, and you probably have fabricated this entire “situationship”. I’m not saying one day he won’t be bae for life, cause let’s face it, you gotta start somewhere.. but yeah, three text backs and a mention definitely don’t solidify hubby status. Sorry, not sorry.

So ladies, about these dope men (he he), let em be dope, but don’t you be looking like Ricky from new edition. Because as we all know, dope gives you a feeling (so they say and thanks to that movie and my walk with the Lordt, I won’t be finding out). Dope appears to make you feel awesome. And then you stop feeling that way, and you have to have the next hit. Well, if you’re a billionaire, you can afford to feed your habit, cause dope ain’t cheap. But even with all the money in the world, a fiend is a fiend and eventually the cracks in the ceiling will begin to show. You start not taking baths and skipping haircuts and yeah.. downhill. Ladies, the dope boy gotcha all geeked. He texts back, takes you out, makes you feel good. You become addicted to your phone, waiting for that “bing” signifying a text and dear God it’s just your mom or your father. And why is he not texting me? Did I do something wrong? Too much makeup, and perhaps I didn’t wear enough perfume and maybe I shouldn’t have eaten the last churro. Blah blah BLAH. And then before you know it, you’re a fiend, sitting outside his house with a bat, singing “irreplaceable” as he is literally dialing the police. (No this is not a personal story. Purely fictitious)

The point you are wondering? Attention is dope. A handsome black man who loves is mom and the Lord is the dopest. But as a woman, and a passionate woman at that, we can tend to be a bit like dope fiends, looking for the next hit when it comes to men. Now more times than one, the addict is using the drug as a coping mechanism. Usually it’s some kind of avoidance mechanism.. So ladies, I come to you with love, and wisdom. If you find yourself “head over heels” instantly, maybe it is hubby. Or maybe, it’s you. No matter how great someone makes you feel, that void you’re trying to feel is too wide and too deep for any man to handle; only GOD provides that type of solace. What are you running from that you think the dope man will solve completely? Spend time in thought and prayer and find out before it’s too late. I would hate for future hubby bae to not become husband because he put a restraining order on you.

Oh yeah, boo you’re the dopest of THEM ALL. Created just for man, you birth the nation Queen. So yes, the dope man smells good, but never forget that he came from a woman! Know your worth, and if any man has you as an option and chooses otherwise, he’s the dummy! You all that and a bag of cheetos girl! So stop shucking and jiving for the dopeman. Drink water and keep it moving. And most importantly, spend time with the one who created man; G-O-D. You’ll be surprised how life changes.

Have a great day!