It's tough to say no. Makes you the one to spoil the fun. You're called "uptight" and "reserved" every time a man asks you to "stand up, lemme see what you got," and you politely say you'd rather not instead of spitting in his face. But when I meet people who question me, I wonder: What kind of women will you marry? Or, what kind of woman are you? Not that I'm perfect, but fuck, can't I try? That's not allowed? If it's perfect for me, isn't that enough? Isn't that what it's supposed to be? What some people don't like about me, others love. What some people don't like about me is that I make them question themselves. I say no to a lot of the things most people say yes to. But I'm also willing to make a lot of moves most people haven't even thought of. I guess the secret is to try to.
For most of my existence, I was just living. When I was 6, I wanted to be a veterinarian and a singer. At
15, I wanted to be a poet. My first year of undergrad claimed I wanted
to be a psychiatrist, but my degree claims I'm a Advertising
professional. My gift with words garners me the title of "writer" but I'm in desperate need of a copy editor. When I put my scripture to music, people are startled and it trips me up. Not
until I've gotten really involved with this JWWWD Magazine thing did I realize that all I wanted to be was happy with myself. For the most part, you do what you're supposed to do until you start to reconsider exactly what it is you're supposed to do. Everything changes with every single step on the path of life except yourself --especially if you want it to. The only thing you know is yourself. For this reason, I've decided to write an open letter to me. I'm the only one I can truly trust to betray me. I feel so alone that I'm incapable of depending on anyone. The strength people see in me someone hinders their conversations with me, they're afraid to offend me or lie to me, so most times, people say nothing at all. I understand. Frankly, I fear me, too & am trying to cope with it, myself.
When you were just a youngin' your looks were so precious. Now you're grown up; so fly it's like a blessing. But you can't have a man look at you for 5 seconds without you being insecure. You never credit yourself, so when you got older, seems like you came back 10x colder. Now you're sitting here, in this damned corner. Looking through [Ella's Thoughts] and looking over your shoulder.
"How to Love" - Lil Wayne.
It's a bit hard to believe that you're the dream of a billion men when the one you've chosen doesn't want you. Or when your phone call isn't returned. When there aren't and x's and o's after the goodnights and love before you's. It's difficult to accurately identify what makes you --of all people -- beautiful. I fare better in a group setting but work best one-on-one. Meaning, in a group, I can easily be the best pick. It stems, not from conceit, rather from the simply fact that 99% of you females hoe behavior is far to visible. Even in the simple way you present yourselves. Cleavage is the number one cause of hoe behavior. They're too visible. To prevalent. It's far too easy to unbutton just one more button. So as you sit there, with the girls risen and ready... already you're at a loss. Now, there's nothing wrong with a little bloop-bloop. I enjoy the sight of breasts myself, but I'm actually happy I don't have any. I'm freely assigned innocence even at my most perverted. When I sit up, nothing happens. When I lay back, nothing happens. When I lean forward... nothing happens. Most women (and girls, even) have more breasts than I do... and sometimes it's a bit tough. The hardest part is taking in the comments and sly jokes. Ignoring ignorance. Harder still is proving that I like myself the way I am. It's tough to explain how I enjoy running and not holding myself. How I can play defense without worrying about cheap rubs (who wants to touch this? lol). How I can wear any shirt I want without looking like a whore. How my bras cost about 1/3 as much. How men have no choice to look at my face. It's not a bad trade off, I promise.
In turn, I put a lot of pressure on my ass. It's nice, might I say. & it kind of makes up for anything else I'm not quite a 10 in, so I revel in it's awesomeness. It's my... thing. It's what I like the best about myself and wish that I could do so freely. I've realized that I'm shier about my body than I might lead on to believe. It's supposed to be holy. It's supposed to be divine. It's supposed to be everything except visible and mine. Why does everyone get to control my body except for me? Everyone is allowed to put limitations of how much I can/should show. Who I can/can't be with. What I can/can't do. I'm taking my body back. "You should be happy that people are admiring your body," he spoke. Somehow, his low voice found its own wavelength to ride through the commotion and he doesn't know it but it made tears leave these dry eyes. I sat back to wonder why I was so ashamed to show. What is it that makes me so uptight? Why can't I be as sexually free as other girls seem to be? But the question beyond all of that is do I even want to be?
Women have a particular set of fears that we all share: Being alone, not being cut-out for motherhood and being a whore --I strongly believe that each of these influences the other. For some women not to be whores, they need to be locked down. The minute they're single, whoredom takes over. It's tough to be alone and so many women take it how they can get it because when your M.O. is to get men to treat you right... your numbers slim and a true whore can't deal with limited love. Similarly, many whores aim to have children because they think it purifies them. It makes them "grown" so they can be as whore as they want as long as they're a "good mom" without thinking about how those pictures of their kids look side-by-side with mommy's "Girls Night Out" photos. It's as if having a child redeems you and proves to the world that you are a woman because you don't feel like one any way else except for the fact the men use your body --that's what it's made for right? Some women stay away from the idea of having children because their whore nature take precedence. They're more concerned about partying than they are taking care of children and wouldn't dare let a grubby, sticky, crying, puke-moster deform the bodies they've taken care of so carefully. Motherhood would be a test too easy to fail with the failure to easy to notice. Other women whore-out on occasion because they need some sort of release. You spend your days and nights fighting Eve's temptations and denying yourself the pleasures whores feed off of: the confidence, the attention, the flashing lights --so the minute you get to pretend you don't care, you take it. You grab onto the freedom and abuse it for the little bit of time you can, because it'll run out eventually --it doesn't have to, but it should.
"Beautiful face, beautiful eyes, beautiful smile. Why are you so shy? You're not used to hearing that?"
"Hearing what?" I asked, even though I knew exactly what he was asking. I simply didn't have an answer for him.
"That you're beautiful?" he asked... the key word built-in to his inquiry.
I supposed I've heard it, I just don't listen anymore. Every time I hear it my eyes turn down to the ground but I can't escape it; even my toes look pretty in these heels. How was i supposed to explain to him that I knowthat I'm beautiful, I'm just not quite sure other people see it. Specific people, actually. How do I let him know that I have heard it before but when they get tired of chasing my panties, they never say the word again. How can I explain how I still miss the "good morning beautiful" texts that stopped abruptly that fated July and no matter how hard I fought for them, I never heard it again. At least not from him. And how the next time I was told, it came from the wrong mouth, in the wrong tone, with the wrong intentions but I still accepted it anyway because all a girl really needs is to feel beautiful? How do I tell him, if at all? I don't want to beg for love anymore, I want it to be given to me. I want to present myself to a room full of strangers and have them love me on a basis of my being myself. Not what I have in comparison to other women... simply what I have for myself. As an individual. I believe that this is where people go wrong without noticing: hiding the love. Your significant other wants it as badly as you do. Even if they say they don't. Even if they act like they don't. This is all based on the premise that everyone wants and deserves love. It's the way you can be a God within yourself: love everyone.
Beautiful people fight the hardest. They ignore and throw love to the side, writing it all off is ill-willed and based in base emotions. This is partially so, but as is the world. If you truly want to be loved off your personality alone, blind people need love, too --and they probably love the purest. I've realized that its okay to love your body and have someone love it along with you --as long as it's all respect. If you work hard on your body, why not show it. Why not take a quick pic? Make a fly flick? Bless the world with a brief (or extended) 360 of what you were born with? I'm just saying... what's so bad about it? I have a complete understanding of why Muslim and Jewish women cover their bodies and save them for their husbands, but the life of a model is one all women envy. To be able to stand in front of a camera, wearing nothing at all but demanding respects as if donned in a pant-suit. Imagine having that sort of confidence? To have people see exactly what you're made of and still look you in the eye? for people to see you for your beauty and then passed it? It must be exhilarating, especially when you're imperfect.
I'm not perfect, I'm a 9. It's taken me a long time to get to this point, but I fully believe I am a 9. Since no one is perfect, I leave my flaw to be determined by the eye of the hater. Maybe I am too skinny. Maybe my chest is too flat. Maybe I can't cook collard greens to your taste (just yet) or I don't make platanoes often enough. Maybe I am too shy. Maybe I am too out spoken. Maybe my skin is too dark --or too light. Maybe my hair isn't long enough or straight enough or curly enough. Maybe I should get implants asap. Maybe that nose job would really help me, too. Teeth-whiteneing? Liposuction? Nip here? Tuck there? Big belt for the bulge. Foundation for the flaws. Lipgloss for plump. Lengthening, darkening $30 mascara. Heels for the missing inches. Shorten the dress, it makes your legs look longer. If the waist comes in a little higher, you'll seem a little curvier. No ankle straps on the pumps if you're under 5'5 --it cuts off your legs. Black is slimming. Vertical stripes are a girl's best friend. Invest in good underwear. Straighten your hair to elongate your face. Aviators to hide it, because they work on all face shapes. Cut out the carbs. The sugars, too. If your brave enough, cut out food entirely. Maybe some pineapple here and there. The binge and starve diet. Atkins. Red peppers. Tomato and a slice of pickle. Blended everything in a cup. This is only the beginning of a long list of shit we do to be perfect. Pretty is pretty hard work.
We just hope someone will notice. Someone will say something about how thin you look. How they love your hair. How your smile radiates. At the very least, how you pop that ass, right? You've got to get a compliment where it fits in. Where ever it is, you'll take it, but it's never quite enough is it? When they notice my curves I want them to read my words. When their focused on my body, my mind feels neglected. When they read my blog and my scribe screams "good girl" I need them to know that this isn't the only side of me. Compliments on my "good school" make me elaborate on how I came form the hood and conversations about the hood beg for me to argue you can still go to a good school.
When is it enough? What has to happen for a woman to be satisfied? You want the man you want to say the things you want to hear about the body your proud to have with the respect that you surely deserve. Your body on a platter and your mind on a pedestal. Eat it and observe. It's all love. It's the reason we do it all. And while it might not really be all love, some versions are simply substitutes until the real thing rears its head. It's all practice. So until the day we find it... we behave as if we've never had love.
I am beautiful. No matter what I say. Because I am my toughest critic. I don't want to be a whore or a prude. I can't talk too little, nor too much. I want to come off as a woman but not old. I want to give my body but maintain ownership over it. I want to dance in my panties for the whole world to see because it really is a good fuckin show. We'll see where my confidence takes me. And maybe, one day, I'll learn to believe myself and stop waiting for others to solidify my beauty. If beauty is in the eye of the beholder, I'm carrying a mirror where ever I go so that I can go to battle with my only opponent. Sometimes, all it takes is seeing yourself clearly to remind you. There are days when I'm out and so concerned about how my hair looks. What my outfit is like. What my makeup is doing. But with all the time I took to get ready in the morning, I better be fine. With how much change I dropped on the foundation, concealer and pressed powder (which, on the weekend, is hidden beneath the blush, eyeliner, brow liner and mascara), my face better stay in place. Sometimes, all you need to do is trust that you did a good job. Look at yourself when you can: bathroom, compact, car window. See yourself as much as you can and become familiar with yourself. Smile at yourself... you're beautiful. And while this all sound corny and idealistic or whatever... fuck it. Why not? What's so naive about loving yourself? What's so idealistic about appreciating yourself? If you ask me, this is an issue that needs to be addressed in greater society but in particular to women who look like me and join the fight to put some colored girls in the MoMA.
We're fuckin beautiful, ladies. If you don't believe it... don't worry.. you're not alone. But trust me, I'll be coming back to read this post as often as you do. Sometimes I need a reminder, myself. Love is something learned. To love someone else takes time... to love yourself takes longer. Shoutouts to those of you on the advanced path of pursuing love of self. It is no easy task, but on the days you feel like you're almost there... the rewards are glorious. Don't give up, ladies. You already know I won't.
My homegirl Mo asked me to write on this topic a while ago. & While it might seem to her that I only half-heard the suggestion, she has no idea how the suggestion plagued me. I say plagued because it wore on me. Whenever I get a suggestion I feel like I have to come through on it. I have to come around and answer the question. Perhaps I won't be on time. Perhaps it's not when they need it... but it's written when I feel most comfortable. And that's the most beautiful thing about my having this blog --I've never been more comfortable.
Truth is, whatever you read on here is always delayed. IF you think I'm in love, I'm probably not. If I was upset Im probably over it. It's just... written. Freely and openly and sometimes that's hard. Ashley texted me the other day and congratulated me on finding "Mr. Right". By the time I responded to her, he was "Mr. Right Now" and as of now, he's Mr. Thursdays. My life moves fast, man. Sometimes I can barely keep up with myself. Worse though is trying to keep up with people keeping up with me.
My blog is a lot of things. But one thing it'll never be is my everything. I do this for fun. & I think I do it well, because... I allow myself to. & the readers have allowed me to. I try to be open. I try to be honest. But that's one of the toughest things to do when everyone is a critic. Everyone has advice for you and everyone thinks you should listen. & the reason I understand that it because I'm one of those people. I always think I'm right. Even when I'm wrong. I rarely admit defeat, but I can if I need to. But in order to do that graciously (and rarely) is to take part in few of those situations. The comments part of blogging can be a bit hurtful, and I mean the blogs can be hurtful to some as well. But really I think I have the right to express myself in a venue that I've created. And people are welcome to have their opinions on my thoughts but they must not forget that key ingredient to those thoughts is me.
People expect you to hide yourself. To be ashamed of yourself. They see things about you that they deem as qualities they'd rather not have and assume you'd feel the same way. For example, I'm materialistic. And many of my posts are clear evidence of that. I like nice things. I am motivated by money (hence, why I go to work everyday.) Some people might see that as a poor quality, but it's what drives me. & It's my truth. There was a time when my friends would call me a gold digger. Until the day they got caught up with a broke man and they finally saw my side of the story. The first thing you have to do with your "poor" qualities is accept them. Some people think you should change, but I argue you are you who are... and some of those things, those things that make you doubt yourself and make you feel like less than the people around you, you can't change anyway.
I hated me. I hated my hair. I hated my skin. I hated my clothes, my weight, my family, my school. I hated a lot about me. But many people would have never guessed. A lot of these feelings came from outside of me. I focused on what other girls looked like. On what the boys seemed to like. On what other's people's families were like. On what, from the outside, appeared to be signs of happiness. I wanted these things. Eventually, I realized that I wasn't the only one putting up a front. We all do. We all pretend to be happier than we are. To be more content and satisfied than we are so that no one can think we're going through it. But in reality we're each as insecure as the next person. There are a lot of things about you that you cannot change. For example, your hair, your skin, your family, your mind -- and these are things you shouldn't want to change.
I think the reason so many people (girls in particular) have such low confidence is because we take every struggle so personally. We pile them up one on top of the other and decide we're terrible people. Maybe I'm just speaking for myself... but finally, I'm not afraid to say how I used to feel regarless of if it was due to my peers., due to my socio-ecominic issues at home, due to my cultural upbringing, due to the poor school system, due to societal pressures and "norms", due to racism, due to poverty, due to sexism or elitism....It doesn't matter what the root of the issue is. The problem is that I felt I couldn't break out of it --even though I very well could have. Because in the moment, I could have never admitted to how I felt. How dark the world was. How uncomfortable I was with myself no matter how many shoe boxes I piled into the back of my closet --and I piled a lot. The white patent on pink canvas were my favvv. But I got them in a 5 because that was the only size left knowing damned well I was a 5-and-a-half but I didn't want to have "big feet" as my friends used to say... But check this: Now I have the hottest heels they can't fit into cuz my feet are too big :) Suck, eh? How could I have told my friends --light-skinned with long curly hair --that I wanted to look like them because boys liked them more? How could I tell boys that in preferring girls like that they were tearing me down from the inside out? Or even admit that the little white girls outfitted in UGGs, North Face jackets & juicy bags in the fifth grade ate away at me because I knew exactly how much that stuff cost and knew I could never even beg for that kind of stuff for Christmas. How could I explain all that to people? Even more difficult; how could I explain that to myself?
You've got to accept yourself and realize that you are an individual. And this is who you are. In one of Lauryn's Unplugged intros, she says something along the lines it makes no sense for us to be alike. How is it that God (if you believe) created each of us as unique individuals, yet we're expected to fit into a mold? She's right. That makes no sense. Better yet, that's stupid. You are you and perhaps you simply haven't been able to see yourself clearly is all. But you should embrace that which is you. And if the rest of the world doesn't like it then fuck them. Trust me, there will come time when your true friends will come to light and you'll see with clarity that they were sheep in wolves' clothing. And those who loved you in the beginning will still love you in the end --through the turbulence.
And you know who else will be there when you finally start to love yourself? You. Because you know you the best. And as much as you might have done to yourself. All the pain. All the self loathing, you'll still be here. And it'll be a beautiful day once you finally see yourself for who you are. There is someone who loves each of us. All you have to do is see what they see. & If you think no one loves you, well fuck it. Ella loves you. No bullshit, I promise. I know this sounds corny, but forreal, fuck the world. There was once atime when I felt alone and abandonded but I'm living better now. YSL lipstick now. So I'm not sure how much validity the world actually holds. You've got to stop listening to the world and listen to you. That way you are responsible for everything that occurs, whether good or bad. No "Thank Mom" or "Thank God", no... Thank Me. Life is tough. Tougher than some people know. Tough enough to make me the most religious atheist on the block. I'm religiously on my side. I don't let anyone put me down or tell me what to do because I have faith in myself. Sometimes, when I asks friends questions I hear their responses and I know why I rarely ask. Sometimes when I'm going through it, I plan to call someone and let all my emotions out but then I realize that I'm here for myself.
You can't rely on people. Not for the good and not for the bad. You don't need anyone to help you to the top and you can't help them guide you to your demise. Start loving yourself. Trusting yourself. Believing that you will make the right decision. And if it fucks up in the end, oh well. Try again. Tomorrow is another day. I hope... nowI know, that one day, you'll get where I am. In a place where you can appreciate and love yourself enough to accept you for you. That day, you'll realize that everyone else should love you for you, too. And that's why I'm selfish. That's why I'm self-absorbed and needy. Because I've realized my worth. And if the rest of the world doesn't see it, then they have some straightening out to do.
Don't feel too bad. He took me to lunch instead of the dinner and a movie I had been hoping for. On his account, it was because he had to study (I like a man with ambition). On my account... he spent too much money the day before and decided to put me on pause. Oh well. *Kanye Shrug* So here I was; wearing the 6-inch heels he bought me from Zara and a dress his favorite color... with nothing to do.
There was a time where I would have just called someone else. And don't get me wrong, I thought about it. Remember, I lost my phone a couple weeks ago (in "Delete Contact? Absolutely") with all of my "in-case" numbers. I also said that I wasn't worried because men always call back. Yes, men... you always do. Since then, my "in-case" numbers have piled back up without any work of my own. But as I scrolled through my contacts, I simply wasn't interested. When a female scrolls through her contacts, it goes something like this...
Too needy... bad conversation... not even that cute.... fuck him.....broke....
I had no one to call. More so, I didn't want to call anyone and fuck up my good mood on a Friday. (I wish y'all could have seen this outfit. I KILLED these city streets.) So I made other plans. Times like this are when you do things you have to do. I have to look for an apartment so I visited some places. In the past, I've been the type to put things I need to do on hold so that I can enjoy moments with a significant other. This is always a mistake. In some ways, this is equivalent to saying that person is more important than you are. I've learned my lesson (read "When He Left Me") so I'm now against putting anyone above myself. You have to love yourself more than you love anyone else to fully understand how that person should love you. The less importance you put on yourself, the less they have to invest in you. I was stood up last night because instead of going to class on Thursday, my new boo took me shopping. (smiley face) So.. he did what typically doesn't happen to me & earned my respect. He cancelled. He has an exam on Monday he needs to study for and.... anything that can help him make more money (and potentially allow him to "afford me," as he says), I support 200%.
Additionally... I didn't have to call anyone. I like this new guy for reasons beside from (not aside, but beside --like... side by side) his spending money on me. Somehow he kept me entertained all night. We didn't talk while I did the apartment visiting... but I got lost and found my way to Borders around 9:30pm --Sidenote: the greatest thing about New York is that things are OPEN. and they are WITHIN DISTANCE even for someone without a car. While in Borders, I decided to take myself to dinner (If a man can take me to dinner, I can take me to dinner, too) so I thumbed through the 2011 Zagat book for NY nightlife and dining. In the table of contents, the was a section called "Singles Spots" on page 345. There were only about 370 pages in the book. & According to the map, none of these "singles spots" were anywhere near me. So, I texted my new boo ( that term is a bit obnoxious, but what do I call him?? ummmm.... Since he's the only one at the moment, & doing pretty well, we'll call him, Him.) I told Him that I wanted to find a sit down spot where I could have a burger. This man texted me directions.
It was like he took me out without having to be there. The spot, Jimmy's Burger Shack on 31st & 8th, ended up being a go-to bar after the Knicks game, so I was the only one with a meal while everyone was ordering shots and chanting. Me and Him texted the entire time about my apparent inability to be faithful. He was the first person I had told the truth to: I've never been faithful to any boyfriend I've had. Ever.
My only explanation for why was "I wasn't ready". Like I mentioned before, I used to put myself aside --Like completely out of the way-- to please a man. That's how I lost myself. I always needed someone there to make up for the space I couldn't fill myself. I needed friends & men for entertainment. I couldn't simply enjoy time with myself for myself. So if my "man" couldn't entertain me, I'd find entertainment elsewhere. With no hesitation and no remorse. But last night, at that noisy bar full of mingling singles, I was so content with myself. Me & my chili, cheese and bacon burger (with a Blue Moon to top it off) had the time of our lives watching recaps of the Bulls/Celtics game even through the drunken mess. It was blissful.
I couldn't be alone. And honestly, I don't think I loved myself enough. So I couldn't love anyone else fully either. I was looking for satisfaction outside of myself at every turn. Now, I know how to satisfy myself. I enjoy myself. And as I texted Him back, if I'm not in something serious, I'd rather be alone.
I plan on doing a lot of this. A lot of dating myself. Treating myself well. Partially because I deserve it, and partially because I can't always depend on a man to entertain me. Additionally, Him needs time to focus on his classes and that degree... and if I can help Him reach his dreams, he'll be able to get the Tiffany ring* (*shape & carat size subject to increase) I've always wanted & I'm set for life :) lol I mean, Ashley once said I'm a sucker for a charity case** At least I'll know that I don't need him. And he'll know that I don't need him. Actually... we'll both know that I don't need anyone. Because what happens if he leaves me or if things don't work out? I go back to being lonely?
Fuck that, Table for one, Please.
PS: I hope you all enjoyed my theory on "Aside vs Beside", a chapter Strunk & White failed to include in the Elements of Style... I really need co-author credits. Thank you, Loyola University in Maryland for providing Writing as a concentration in itself :)
One time, my brother and I didn't speak for almost a month because he said something... anti-gay. I have no idea what he said, I just remember that it upset me and I called him ignorant. Him being 11 years my senior, I couldn't call him anything without getting body slammed.
I remember my mom saying something about gay people (don't judge my mommy. She's old-school Dominican and she's changed. Believe me.) and I asked her, "What if people treated me the way you treat gay people? You want people to treat your kids like that? You know some people don't like me because my skin is dark. What if they talk about me the way you talk about gay people?" She had nothing to say. I walked away. I've always been a very outspoken person, but I was definitely worse as a child. It might have been rude coming from a teenager, but someone had to tell her & I'd rather it be me.
The first time I met someone (openly) gay, I was in high-school. It was a boy. But his boyfriend didn't go to our school so it was like a... you're gay but I don't have to watch you be gay. I saw them kiss at a dance once and... honestly, I still don't like what that looks like. lol. This isn't to say that I wasn't accepting, knowledgable or conscious of the gay community. I just didn't personally know anyone who was outwardly gay. Gay wasn't exactly cool. & I don't think a gay person in my elementary school or middle school would have made it through the year, to be honest. We were ignorant little kids. And even though I saw nothing wrong with it, I was a kid and I did what kids do. If I had to, I'd have been cruel. I remember this one girl I went to middle school with used to poke other girls in the stomach... you know... like guys do? I got fed up when she did it while we were walking to lunch one day and I yelled out "_____________. Stop poking me. I'm not gay!" In front of everyone. She didn't sit at my table for a while after that. lol.
Pause. You can stop judging.
I'm delusional and think I'm the next Carrie Bradshaw, I LOVE gay men. Carl is my Stanford Blatch (Yes, bitch. You are MINE.) While that was a little joke, it remains true (at least for me), that most girls want a gay best friend. Here's why I love Carl. He lives his own life. We don't double date or hook eachother up, but if I met a gay man who might be Carl's type, I'd gladly introduce them. Likewise, if he met a tall, athletic, rich super straight man, I better the first in line. Meanwhile, I don't have to worry about Carl taking my man and I don't want his. Anyways, the gays aren't collectibles. It was pure chance that brought me and Carl together, especially since I didn't like him at first. Luckily, I like him as a person. His good and bad qualities, because we all have them. The search for a gay best friend is what's bizarre. If you don't have one, you don't have one. Hunny, there's one sure thing with the gays, they either like you or they don't. & They'll let you know it.
Maybe you shouldn't have stopped judging me. Notice that I only confirmed my "acceptance" because I have a gay friend. Sound familiar? lol.
I know that there's no age to figure out your sexuality and that it's different for every person, but I do wonder what the "right" age to expose a child is. (This is looking like another "Perfect Timing" blog.) The questions that run through my head are, are kids being forced to think about these things earlier than they have to? Can exposing a child to the idea of "gay" make them gay? What would I do if my child were gay? As kids start "deciding" earlier and earlier, I start to feel the same way about sexuality as I do about religion: There's no correct path, and you shouldn't go through with confirmation until you're sure and have lived a bit. But then again... I'm not gay. What do I know?
Another "gay" trend I have a distaste for? Girls kissing girls just to kiss girls. In high-school, all the girls were gay... or bi.. and then it happened again in college. & Now those girls are straight again. Many knocked up and nursing their babies (for those who don't know, 2 girls cant make a baby. Something else was in there.) Others are just sleeping with everyone. Last year, with a particular person, my only thought was... Are you really Bi or do you just want to sleep with everyone? Because... well. You know. If you're gay, you're gay... Cool with me. But if you just need some extra action, there's another term that suits you a bit better. More than one, actually.
If I were to take part in gay activities, she'd better be one bad bitch. & my liquor had better be strong. Because if I went home to my mother, friends, family, employers... anyone, they'd all first think "Really?" Then, they'd see my girlfriend and say "Can I be gay, too?" That's the reaction I want.
This post is totally random & have no idea why I got on this topic... wait. I do. All this BS in the news about kids being bullied and then harming themselves and others on account of their choice in sexuality. You know how people wonder if people are gay by choice or by birth? I remember hearing the argument of "Why would anyone choose a life this hard?" and that kind of stuck to me. "Gay" is not new. I'm not saying we have to obligate our 5-year-olds to choose a preference, but as adults, we need to be ready to handle our children's choices and help our children accept the choices of others. When I say gay is the new Black, I mean it in all forms: in terms of discrimination and in the fashion sense. From people being ostracized or pinpointed because of their sexuality. Our society and its bizarre love/hate relationship with the gay community (You know majority gay areas have the best schools, restaurants and show the most economic growth? I'm just sayin').
I once had a conversation with two "educated" black men about sexual orientation. They claimed that when gays start getting rights, that's how you know the empire is about to come crashing down, like it did in Greece. Their argument was that if you start giving groups of people rights for things they "can't change", you make too many exceptions to your laws. I looked at both of them and said "then you should be slaves." They went on to tell me that when I get older and wiser, I'll understand their point better. If that's the truth, I never want to grow up. You can't expect your group to be accepted into society and then deny others the same rights. They can put their Engineering and Math degrees side-by-side and I'll stick to my opinion that they are the two of the most ignorant men I've ever spoken to.
My brother didn't have a degree when we had our argument. He also didn't bullshit his way to a moronic conclusion. He was smarter than that.
When it comes to homophobia, I pity Black people the most. I guess history books did the right thing in making "Slavery in the US" one 10 page chapter. Seems like most people have forgotten historical oppression and what that can do to a people. I'm definitely not arguing that the gays have it as bad as Blacks did, but does genocide have to occur before we start fighting for the rights of others?
It's tough to say no. Makes you the one to spoil the fun. You're called "uptight" and "reserved" every time a man asks you to "stand up, lemme see what you got," and you politely say you'd rather not instead of spitting in his face. But when I meet people who question me, I wonder: What kind of women will you marry? Or, what kind of woman are you? Not that I'm perfect, but fuck, can't I try? That's not allowed? If it's perfect for me, isn't that enough? Isn't that what it's supposed to be? What some people don't like about me, others love. What some people don't like about me is that I make them question themselves. I say no to a lot of the things most people say yes to. But I'm also willing to make a lot of moves most people haven't even thought of. I guess the secret is to try to. 
