Thinking Kinky : The Nappy Haired Diva

I’m really nervous right now . It’s been about six years since I’ve posted. I’m not sure who’s going to even read this. Everything moves so fast. Phones change, emails change, social media platforms emerge left and right… everything moves fast. The only thing that’s moved slowly was each year that passed by being stuck in the abyss that is writers block. Somewhere along the way, I lost my inspiration. The thing is, I know exactly when it happened.  It all started with the pills. There was a pill to speed me up, a pill to slow me down, a pill to help me sleep, a pill to curb my binge eating and focus. I think you get it. I was on a crapload of medications. My pill box is the size of a soda can and when you shake it sounds like maracas. Problem was, with all those medications it took time to find the right combination to keep my moods level. While figuring that out, you’re going through insane side effects from falling into deep sleep 20 minutes after taking one drug, to having panic...

With all that's happening in the United States right now, I feel obligated to share my thoughts on the racism that is rampant within this country. When I was growing up, four of us lived in a one bedroom apartment in Queens New York. At the time it was all I knew so I thought nothing of it but now as an adult I realize how hard it was for my mother to provide things that so many of us take for granted, like personal space, privacy, and a safe neighborhood to live in. We moved to a bigger apartment (two bedrooms). My mother, sister and I slept on a king size bed and my brother had a twin bed in his own room. Even then I wasn't aware that my mother was struggling. Living in a bigger apartment in a better neighborhood felt like we were a world apart from our old place. There were kids in the neighborhood to play with and there wasn't a shortage in friendly neighbors. We were living in a Caribbean-American middle class neighborhood in Cambria Heights, New York. I once hea...

I've had a love and hate relationship with food since I can remember. I would get excited over a slice of pizza and then regret the several slices I ate after the first. This isn't something that's uncommon to many people. There are some of us who just like to eat. We live to eat instead of eating to live. There's nothing wrong with being a foodie unless it's to the detriment of your health. I like to count myself as a foodie. I like to try new recipes and I enjoy eating. Admitting your enjoyment of food is often met with judgement. Many of us are conditioned to believe that there are "good" foods and there are "bad" foods. I don't believe this to be true. I believe that all things can be eaten in moderation. I also believe that most of us don't practice moderation in our eating. Some of us eat clean and then binge on the "bad" food when tempted. It's hard to walk the line depending on your relationship with food. D...

Photo by  Redd Angelo  on  Unsplash "So what do you want to do about us?" That's what I asked him. It had been about two years of dating, love, and intimacy of varied levels.  "I would like us to be together in the future. I can see us together." These kinds of answers do nothing for me. When someone wants something, they set goals. I wasn't a goal. I was an option. I was a convenience and for the greater portion of two years, I was a fool.  I could say the love held me there. I could say the chemistry held me there however, whatever the reason I can't say it was worth spending two years hoping that someone would decide I'm worth committing to.  The worst part? This silly response was always the same. Time went on and the response remained the same. There were brief periods where we actually were "together" but the same issues that plagued our relationship from the beginning hung over us like a black cloud. We were covered i...

Photo by  jean wimmerlin  on  Unsplash He sat there on his corduroy reclining armchair as if it were a sad throne he refused to abandon. No one sat his armchair. When we were kids we were always shooed away from it by mom before he could discover our disobedience. Mom always had a way of averting a crisis. She would protect us from his wrath and protect him from aggravation. I wondered who protected her, but I knew the answer. Today he sat in that damned chair and refused to look at me. Mom sat on the couch, her island of exile where her eyes darted from him to me while she wrung her hands repeatedly. God, she was such a mess. How can someone spend their entire life attempting to placate everyone all the time? I admired and resented her. "I'm not going." I wanted them to realize that I was firm on this. It's my decision, not hers and certainly not his. I was tired of living my life in a way that they felt comfortable and I didn't want to do it anymore. I j...

Photo by  Dollar Gill  on  Unsplash Tired of the drama and dysfunction? That's interesting because chances are, you created it and or/facilitated it. Wait! Don't stop reading before I explain: If you're in a lackluster relationship, there was a point that you realized this person wasn't for you. If you didn't decide they weren't for you, then you likely began to ponder if they actually are for you. Sometimes it takes time to be definitive. If you're always in the midst of drama with friends or family, you have to wonder where your participation in the nonsense you're enduring comes in. If you are always in the middle of workplace gossip, you may want to ask yourself why you are aware anyone is gossiping. Even the person playing reporter has a role in your dramatic workplace story. If you're overweight, you had a hand in getting there one way or another. It doesn't matter if you have a medical issue, you can monitor your caloric intake...

"You're so cool, I just can't figure out why you're single!" I hear this sentiment more often than I care to share. While I smile and accept it as a compliment, I also feel a pang of anger within.  I don't know why I'm single.  I can probably take a few guesses. I don't have time to date, or just don't make time. I'm completely open to meeting the man that I can spend my life with but one husband and several relationships later, that guy is looking like he doesn't exist. Today, at my part time job, I met a guy. He's literally the cable guy and he came in to service an apartment. He was pretty flirtatious and I of course served it back to him. That's just in my nature. I don't know how NOT to be flirtatious, especially when my skills are being solicited. I think that eventually giving the cable guy my number wasn't the most professional decision I've ever made but there was no way that I was going to pass up th...

photo courtesy of  www.grandparents.com I think the best way to start this off is to give you an understanding of my relationship with food. First, we have a relationship. That should say something. The healthy person eats to live, and I live to eat. I'm not sure how it all started honestly. My memory only goes back to about age 4 and at that time, I wasn't conscious of much of anything. I didn't think about my body. I hadn't compared it to anyone else. I was just as clueless about food. I never thought of eating too much or too little. I don't recall being hungry at that age. I just remember being fed. I was a picky eater. Cold cuts made me nauseous. A hot egg sandwich could be ingested but if you tossed a hot drink in the mix (like tea or cocoa), I was tossing cookies. If my dinner had too many ingredients, I picked around it. My mom was always one green pepper or onion slice away from ruining my meal. The only thing I ate to the last drop without fail wa...

The knock was unexpected. I was watching "Boyz N Da Hood" on a very grainy VHS and wasn't expecting company. I'd sneak boys into the small basement apartment before but lately I wasn't in the mood for boys with their anxious hands pawing all over me, with open mouth kisses lacking coordination as they tried to feel up my shirt. Oh, it was him. He was a young man, eighteen, maybe nineteen. High School graduate. He was moonlighting as a mechanic. Mom took a liking to him. She always took a liking to the wrong men. I liked his physique. He was lean and chiseled; the build of a young man who is used to hard labor. I was attracted to him, but not enough to do much about it. Besides, he had a girlfriend who was in her early twenties. There was no competing with a young woman when you are a fifteen year old girl with a mild crush. She sent me to his house to give him some money for some work he began to do on her car. I stood on the stoop and rang the doorb...

I lived most of my adult life believing I was meant to work for myself. I started off selling Avon. I would hustle my catalog to my colleagues at the investment firm I worked in and fill orders. I was building a decent client base and was receiving a small profit, however, I spent more than I earned to remain active as a distributor. Strangers had their own distributors and didn't want to purchase from me. I got tired of hitting up my clients for more sales and giving away trinkets with each purchase was dipping into my profits. Parties dwindled after the first one. Avon wasn't turning out to be the escape I needed from Corporate America. Fast forward to Arbonne. I was a beauty consultant or whatever we were called and I hosted a successful party along with developing a business selling gift baskets to peoples wives for holidays and birthdays. Again, I was obligated to have a base amount of sales so during slow months, I cut into my meager profit to meet the amount needed ...

I gave one last kiss to his face, my last taste of his skin the beautifully human encasement his spirit was held in. My fingertips traced his lips tenderly remembering when they once kissed me. I remembered the lust, I remembered the lies I remembered the warmth that filled his eyes. I touched his hands that once held my waist that at times would deny me, when I longed for their embrace. The times I spent seeing those lips curl into grins were now lost in the wilderness his love was in but I still ran my hands through his hair hoping to feel something there. Nothing. The eyes were empty. Heartbreak sent me to a confined place. It was a place with no light, no space, so tight that my throat began to choke on the reality of what came to be of us and my inability to breathe caused my chest to heave with every part of me squeezed, parts of me began to depart from me my tears were the first to leave. Then he rose, and looked into my eyes- a prelude to a sad goodbye An...

It's all in me It's in my control I rock my Pisces I steal your soul I tolerate you til tolerating gets old a lady so sweet a bitch so cold Dude I'm showing you the curves Hips showing you the swerve Give my ex the finger N-gga's when you gon' learn? It's all in me It's in my control I rock my Pisces I steal your soul Dude, I'm showing you the honey I'm playing playboy bunny You're filthy rich in bullshit But I don't need that kind of money I tolerate you til tolerating gets old a lady so sweet a bitch so cold Dude, I'm taking back my time strutting all this fine but I dont think I'll be so kind to stay off your f-cking mind It's all in me It's in my control I rock my Pisces I steal your soul I tolerate you til tolerating gets old a lady so sweet a bitch so cold

Sometimes he looked at me the way I had always wanted to be looked at. His eyes would fill with a wonder as if I was a beautiful creature he never knew existed. I would often pretend I didn't notice, because I liked to be admired a bit longer. I knew he would break his gaze if I acknowledged it. So I sat and made my best effort to remain natural, refusing to ruin the moment with unnecessary interruption. Other times, I would intentionally turn toward him. I would return his gaze and admire every curve of his face. I would notice the perceived flaws and want to kiss them all. My lips would travel across the map of his face, landing on every location of interest. He would laugh, and distract my lips from their unplanned journey by planting his against my own- keeping them in the destination he chose. I was alway obedient to what he wanted. Knowing that he wanted me was enough and so I did as he directed and I enjoyed heeding his unsaid instructions. I knew when he didn't wa...

Photo by  Nicholas Bui  on  Unsplash Just typing this post is a ministry of preparation. I don't know how people will receive me. I don't knowwhat people will think. I don't know how I even feel honestly. For years, I have battled depression. I even posted about my journey as a depressed person. For some reason, the medication never seemed to work for long before I was "off". I can't completely describe what "off" feels like other than moments of battling what feels like the onset of a crisis or feeling my mood shift despite taking a drug that was intended to stabilize it. I wasn't always depressed while on anti-depressants but I wasn't always well either. I've always held a job. Being the sole provider for my household, holding a job has been a non-negotiable necessity. The issue? I never held a job for more than five years. Five years was the cap for me. I had something called the 3-year-itch. No matter what the position, or the c...

 There she was, Patty Gregory. Patty was as cute as a button and I wanted to be her friend. This was back a Black person with fair skin was beautiful without taking their heart, mind, or physical features into consideration. She was cute though on the outside and because of that, being lighter skinned made her even cuter. Add the fact that her hair was down her back and she immediately elevated to goddess level. I had to be her friend. I had to be worthy of her friendship. She had to accept me! ...and she did.  Later into the semester, a new girl came to our class. Her name was Kendra and she and Patty became fast friends. I watched closely, anxious that Kendra was not only going to rain on my parade but do it with my own thunder she was quickly stealing. Though fearful of being demoted from primary friend to secondary friend, my five year old self opted to keep a watchful eye before making a decision on how to secure my place in Patty's life. I grit my teeth as K...

There's a thin line between being sensitive and being a narcissist. Make sure you walk the line or stay far away from it. ...just some food for thought. Want to see the Nappy Haired Diva speak? Check out this video. I also post on Heart Song Healing by Yomi . 

I have held many jobs. Some of them were entrepreneurial in nature and other's were corporate oriented. I've strongly disliked most of them. Why? I was doing what paid me, rather than what was passionate to me. I would work office jobs and enjoy the "benefits".  Now, I realize that the interpretation of benefits is relative. Are benefits health insurance, year-end bonuses, and an abundance of leave allowance? Are benefits working from home, making your own hours, and receiving a handsome pay? Are benefits a relaxed work environment that allows for casual clothing and imbibing in the afternoon?  It wasn't until I began to define what qualified as a benefit within my work life that I began to steer further and further away from the role of employee and closer to the role of entrepreneur. I wanted to work for myself. I wanted to prove that the skills I'd utilized for the "benefit" of my employer could benefit myself. I quickly learned that it ...

We always talk about losing pounds but I think that sometimes losing people (deliberately) is a better idea. I know that I usually type my thoughts but this time around, I put them on video. So if you ever wanted to see who this woman is yapping through poetry and blog writing... here I am. Enjoy!

  He assaulted me at gunpoint. I never imagined his capacity for evil until that moment. At the time I felt helpless and it frightened me. You never realize the capacity of someone else's power until they reign over you. I was unable to make choices, and I thought he was an ally and quickly realized that if I didn't submit to his will he would assume the role of enemy with little warning.  That was about seven years ago. It's interesting how it's said that seven is the divine number symbolizing completion because it took me about seven years to forgive the person who took my choice away that night.  It's difficult for me to share this, not because I suppress it or haven't confronted it. It's difficult for me to share this because I have children and I've not even shared this with them. I plan to reveal this to them, but when it's relevant to their lives as young women. They are still girls. I want to keep them safe, but I want to also equip...