The Greatest Love of All: An Education in Loving Oneself

The greatest love of all 
Is easy to achieve 
Learning to love yourself 
It is the greatest love of all 

~ Greatest Love of All – Whitney Houston

I’m in a period of intense self-reflection. I’m watching as people come into my life and others walk out of my life and I amazed by the perfection of God’s timing. Discernment is fundamental to self-growth and development, and I believe that God will send particular people into our lives to share His will or a particular bit of knowledge we need, in order to progress.  Lately, through the advice of a few individuals I respect and value very much, He has been speaking to me on the importance of self-love.

On this blog, I often talk about romantic love and the audacity it takes to pursue authentic intimate relationships, in these complicated times.  While I continue believe that romantic love is an important and worthy endeavor, I  truly believe the most boldest form of love is the love of self.  Loving oneself and the God within is critical to understanding one’s definite purpose.  It is indeed the greatest love of all, but I wouldn’t necessarily describe it as easy to achieve.  How have you been loving yourself lately?

Use Your Heart and Not Your Eye.  When you look in the mirror, what do you see? If you are anything like me, then it is the extra 10lbs…errrr um 20lbs around the midsection, the recent phenomena of dark circles that beset your once flawless under-eye region, the resilient pimples that insist you are still a teenager, and so on. As you can tell, I am hard on myself in all arenas, but particularly around my physical appearance. I have been picking myself apart for a long, long time.

If I’m honest, the last time that I was truly %100 satisfied with my physical appearance was when I was about five.  I knew I was cute and I embraced every perfection and imperfection with a nonchalant carefree spirit that comes from the purity of youth. This was before others told me something was wrong of course, and when they did boy did I internalize what they had to say.  The little girl who was once the queen of the dance contests became shy and aloof and I remained that way up and through most of high-school.  I let bullies inform my self-opinion early on−and till this day I still struggle to heal the hurt little girl within.

I can tell you firsthand and through observational experience that this issue will manifest itself into trying to fix an internal issue with an external solution.  No amount of make-up, hair weave, or designer outfits will make you beautiful in any way that matters,  if you feel ugly on the inside.  You can stand in $1000 shoes, and feel absolutely worthless.  To feel beautiful, and to love yourself flaws and all; you have to go deeper.

Always a work in progress, I know today that I am beautiful not because of anything I have going on with my outside, but because of what lies within. I have  heart of gold and a seemingly endless capacity to love, and this is what makes me gorgeous.  I’m smart, talented, funny, and interesting.  I’m also neurotic, absent-minded, critical, and single-minded to a fault.  But I know my stuff.  I’m self-aware and I’m managing to love myself despite myself, and this is real progress.

Not Every “One” that comes into your life has to be the “One”.    This one is for all the soft-hearts in the house.  I think some of us are just built with an unyielding capacity to love, and while I agree that this propensity stems from an even greater desire to receive love, many of us are just born tender-hearted. For all the Mariah’s, and J. Lo’s, and Halle’s among us, negotiating a healthy balance between love of self and love of others can be a difficult undertaking.  I’m prone to crushes, I fall quick, and I take rejection, as an opportunity for optimization. I am learning that this is not a natural or effective way of being.  I am also learning to save the best of my parts of myself for the one that deserves me.  My new motto is: “Let he that shall endeavor to deserve my awesome, rise to the occasion.”

I know now that if ” he’s just not that into me” that is his stuff, and not mine.  That isn’t to say that I don’t have moments of weakness, slip-ups, and backwards progress. Overcoming this natural inclination is going to be one of my biggest challenges, but it will also be one of my biggest triumphs. Leading within an insecure open-heart is simply asking to be hurt.  Please understand that the wrong kind of woman or man will look for this particular weakness, and take advantage of it for his or her own gain.  What we are is what we attract.  If you are weak and insecure, you’ll bring every insecure woman or man within a 30 mile radius to your doorstep.  Accordingly, don’t let every dog that sniffs at the gate into your yard! Balance your need for love and your desire to love with equal parts discernment and wisdom. Channel that love for others into yourself.  Become your own biggest fan in the stands.


Tamia – Me

Optimize Your Awesome™ …..Do You with Emphasis™ - Regulars of this blog will have seen these phrases before. They have become my personal maxims, and provide a charter for how I want to live my life and achieve my definite purpose.  I am an ENTJ Virgo, which means that I am naturally driven, and pre-disposed for wanting to do things better, faster, harder, and stronger.  I am a perfectionist, and while this is not without its drawbacks, I will say that it gives me a particular boldness of spirit in being intentional about living out my dreams and putting action towards them.  I am aligning my choices with my purpose, and affirming my purpose through my actions.  This provides me with an authenticity in my experiences, and a fearlessness that allows me to take on new goals and be visionary.  Vision is required to achieve greatness. I don’t think there is anything that will help you love yourself better and foster a sense of self-confidence than setting a goal and achieving it.  As children we learn to walk by becoming increasingly more confident with every step we take.  Eventually we skip walking all together and run towards every destination.  In the same way, we must become intentional  about fostering behavior in our lives that are congruent with what we want.  This is maturation. This is what builds character. This is the DNA of greatness.

In conclusion, I hope that this post will help you in your journey to learn and love yourself.  For me it has been as therapeutic, and educational. I only tell you my mess, with the hope of helping you bypass some of the trappings of this insane journey we call life.  I want to help you achieve your dreams and live beyond the margins.  I hope we can steady each other on the often stormy waters of life, and I look to you for your continued insight and perspectives on this blog. I am grateful. Remember, the journey isn’t about finding “him” or “her”. It’s about finding YOU and the GOD within. Find your purpose and live it out..BOLDLY!  Optimize your Awesome!™

For Real Ni**as Who Ain’t Got No Feelings: Hip Hop’s All Emo Everything Moment

It has been ten years since Jay-Z made the Song Cry and Hip-Hop’s new class is decidedly more in touch with its feelings. Rappers like Kanye West, Drake, and Lil’ Wayne are emoting through both their lyrical content and production. They rhyme candidly on the travails of love and life, over stripped down beats laced with melancholy instrumentation and the all too ubiquitous Auto-Tuned vocals.

At first glance, it appears that today’s rappers might want to take a lay down on the proverbial couch.  However, I believe something else it at work.  Modern commercial hip-hop is no longer about survival.  Rhymes around The Breaks of street living—poverty, crime, violence, and drugs—have been replaced with introspections on the world of excess these artist inhabit. I wonder what all this talking about feelings means for hip-hop’s overall maturation.  Moreover,  is love in the hip-hop zeitgeist a reflection on us and how we are loving or not loving today?

Many from my generation  (80′s baby) would argue that today’s rap is evidence of hip-hop’s continued devolution from its arguably more cerebral origins.  I was raised on the gritty street rhymes of Mobb Deep, Wu-Tang, pre-pink suit Nas, as well as the brainy granola rap of Tribe, De La Soul and others.  Today’s rappers are a real departure from these aesthetics, but are similar in that they are looking inward to create narratives for the masses.

Yet, these rappers today are not living like the masses live—and some notably never have. The most successful among them are wealthy [and I don't mean Linnethia Leakes rich either], as well as increasingly more educated and worldly. Take for instance, new rapper J. Cole. Cole, was born in Frankfurt, Germany and graduated magna cum laude from St. John’s University.  On his debut album Cole World: The Sideline Story,  it is obvious his world and outlook is decidedly different that one born, in say the Marcy projects.

The taste levels at the heart of rap’s consumer culture continue to evolve, along with the demons that inform its stories.  What we are hearing in Drake’s insecurities around fame and Kanye’s heartbreaks is the love hangover of 90s conspicuous consumption hip-hop.  Diddy may have gotten the party started, but today’s rappers are reflecting on what happens when the party is over.  When the bottles are popped and empty, and you are forced to be alone with yourself and your choices, what does it all mean?

The numbness and loneliness of today’s hip-hop is evocative.  It channels the spirit of this time in which individuals are increasingly connected through technology, but also are more and more insular.  Individuals are less equipped to feel and love authentically because the culture is engineered to mitigate this. For instance, the spectacle of reality TV dominates are media consumption, but the stories and emotions they reveal are manufactured—emotional simulacra.  To take the discussion back to hip-hop, Drake (who I affectionately refer to has the Eeyore of Rap) often rhymes about his misadventures in love with various exotic dancers. Exotic dancers—by their very definition—manufacture artificial emotion, sexual attraction, and sometimes their bodies (booty injections), as a means to an economic end. Accordingly, it is apropos that the spectacle of the manufactured has ignited very real emotions in hip-hop.

Kanye reveals similar trials and  tribulations around his affair with the sunglasses loving, former stripper Amber Rose—who had him all in his feelings on the 2010 My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy.  The entire album was genius for its vulnerability, insecurity, and emotional rawness; it was the antitheses of the machismo rap regime of the 90′s, under which real niggas had no feelings. 

Hip-Hop’s emotional moment is complex, but reflective of a maturation and extension of the definition of what hip-hop is. Moreover, it is confronting the representation of what has been the standard masculine ideal in hip-hop culture. With any luck, this moment will have the added benefit of reducing the misogyny and sexism at the heart of the genre.  If rappers can redefine what it means to love within hip-hop, perhaps they can also  validate a male/female relationship beyond pimping and tricking.

So what do you think of this “all emo everything moment?”  Do you believe the emotional revelations of today’s rappers, or do you think it is simply a commercial tactic used to boost sells?  Is masculinity in hip-hop changing?  Do you think the generation growing up with this music will be more or less open to emotional engagement because of this music?

The Little Black Girl Who Could(n’t): On Personal Power and Progress

Do you know your worth?  I mean really know and understand the boundless capacity of your awesome?  Knowing and understanding your worth, and acting accordingly is one of the biggest challenges life presents. In fact, life often works in complete opposition to achieving this goal.   I believe this is particularly true for Black women.

Society tells Black women they are “worth less”, and in reaction to this collective mythology, many of us choose to live some version of a worthless life:  a life lived within a stereotype, or one that subverts stereotype only to play it safe.   Isn’t it time we started living boldly? I am making an intentional decision to color outside the lines. I will not play by the rules. They never called him “Alexander the Average” ; so I will be great without apology. Living an authentic life for me means refusing to be less. It means owning the entirety of my personhood—flaws and all—and tapping my personal power without fear or trepidation.  I hope you will join me.

It is time to resist the devaluing of our experiences, ability, and competence. We face trials, tribulations and all manner of adversity that  lead us to believe—albeit falsely— that we are not worthy or deserving, and that we should settle for what is most safe, immediate, or attainable.  In the face of these challenges, we need to celebrate and emphasize what it means to do Black womanhood.

I am reminded of Maya Angelou’s poem Phenomenal Woman. To live a powerful life, means reaching inside myself and pulling from within my Phenomenal Woman to guide, purpose, and heal the scared little girl within me. I suffered from what you might call “the little Black girl who couldn’t syndrome”.  For a very long time, I carried the pain of rejection and inadequacy in my youth with me, and along with it I packed up the fear of my own greatness.  I have chosen to put those bags down. I have chosen to pick up a bag that contains: faith, love, motivation, God’s healing spirit, confidence, and power.  The load is lighter and the path is more clear.

We need to stop apologizing for the breakdown of the family structure within our community.   I am at my wit’s end with Black women accepting the entire blame for what is akin to an assault from within on our interpersonal relationships. We need not apologize for seeking or wanting  partners and connections with Black men. We need not be coy in saying we need them to raise up the standard and step-up to deserve us. Being intimidated is not an option.  Being emotionally stunted or immature is not productive.  Being afraid is understandable, however….

“There is no fear in love; but perfect love casts out fear, because fear involves punishment, and the one who fears is not perfected in love - 1 John 4:18″.

Suffice it to say my brother, this is a tango, and many of us are tired of dancing alone. Our ethnicity and history prior to  and after our arrival on America’s shores is a tie that binds us, like the blood that flows through our veins.  Accordingly, it deeply saddens me that the prevailing narrative I hear around this particular dysfunction describe what women are either doing or not doing to attract, get, and keep a man.  I’m am never going to be the coquette.  But I will be me and I will do it fearlessly. 

It is time for a collective appraisal of the value of Black womanhood.  To often we reduce the poignancy of shared experience and unique talents.  We fail to tell our own stories, and buy-in to the stories that our told about us—whether myth or some semblance of the truth. We wear modesty like the latest Louboutins, and make it all look so easy. Are phenomenal appears so effortless, but it is in fact the product of blood, sweat, and tears.  It is the reparations for dreams deferred, and the sacrifice of not only Martin and Malcolm, but of Sojourner, Harriet, Shirley, Angela, Zora, Nella, Dorothy, and Michelle.  I am humbled by the audacity of Black womanhood.

Do you know what is like to feel the fire of your spirit burning at a flame, and then to have it ignite with the power of your purpose?  This is living boldly.  This is living authentically.    This is living freely.  This is loving with emphasis. This is tapping into your magic.  This is being the salt in the stew. This is opening your eyes, so you can fly.  Will you be the little Black girl who could or couldn’t?  This is life. How much is yours worth?  It is priceless; now go live it!

Ready to Sign Those Papers: Kim and Kris Over in a Flash and Out in a Dash

Like a pair of Louboutins that didn’t quite fit, Kim Kardashian is returning her retail nuptials back to sender swifter than even Liz Taylor could say “I Do”.  After only 72 days of wedded bliss, she has reportedly filed for divorce from NBA ne’ er-do-well Kris Humphries citing the all to familiar irreconcilable differences.

It’s not clear  what the couple could not reconcile over the short stint of their quickie marriage—perhaps he would not put the blasted toilet seat down, despite her repeated and tortured requests. Nonetheless, Ms. Kim is ready to sign those papers, and I’m honestly not convinced the timeline really matters. What I find more troubling—particularly as a divorced person—is the cavalier attitude she has seemingly taken towards both the marriage and its expedited ending.  It is amazing how much one of the most extravagant weddings of all time (estimated at 10M) could  cheapen a institution that should truly be priceless.

Spectacle nuptials deserve nothing more than a spectacle dissolution, but the walking spectacle that is Kim Kardashian should really take a fame sabbatical after this epic marriage debacle.  A graduate of the Andy Warhol 15 minutes of fame school of celebrity, Kardashian is famous for nothing more than being famous.  She has leveraged her private made public sexual tryst, voluptuous rear-end, and dating life into not only fame but fortune. Today, Kim is worth an estimated $35 Million, and even more telling she reportedly profited $18M from this now defunct fairy-tale marriage.

I am not a Kim Kardashian fan.  I find her vapid and uninteresting,despite her aesthetic appeal.  Yet I have a couple of parallels with Ms. Kim that makes me consider her maturation in a unique way.  We are both 5’2, in our early 30′s, breathtakingly gorgeous, and once divorced (in 2000, Kardashian married music producer Damon Thomas; their relationship ended in divorce in 2004).

It is from this perspective that I try to examine the psychology of a Kim Kardashian, but I am at a lost. Having been divorced, I will never suggest that someone remain in a marriage, in which they are not able to actualize the whole of their being. Nevertheless, I know firsthand the shame of divorce, and moreover its stigma. I know the pain of losing someone, you thought would be your partner for life.  I will be the first to admit that I could not wrap my 23-year-old mind around what a lifetime with someone else really meant, but I fought for my marriage,  It was a fight I unable to win and believe me I still carry the battle scars, and bruises that continue to heal to this day.

Yet like a teflon femme fatale, Ms. Kardashian and many celebutantes for that matter (Brittany Spears et. al)  seem to treat marriage with a despicable levity that I simply cannot stomach  .The myth of the marriage institution as fairy-tale aside, I should think that Kim’s break-ups, first divorce, and divorce or her parents would give her some since of wisdom and understanding of the gravity of marriage.  The ceremonial and legal traditions of marriage are immediately tied to the spiritual bond of the marriage institution.  The extent to which all of this is compromised by economics, is debatable. Yet, I am disappointed my peer, in at least age if not wisdom, has not grasped any of this.  72 days later; I quit.

Moreover, I know too many single, beautiful, accomplished, intelligent, talented, hard-working women, who know the value of marriage and want it badly, but for whatever reason have not gotten the change to live their fairy-tale.  It saddens me that some may never get to be the bride all dressed and white, while another more famous someone, with the EQ of a dish rag, got to don three gowns in one ill-fated ceremony.

Despite reports that Kris Humphries was a fame whore/lummox, who either did not have Kim’s best interest at heart or had know idea what he was getting himself into, I believe there is another Kris to blame for this latest exposé. I blame the fame obsessed Kris Jenner for not only allowing her daughter to walk down the aisle with a man she and her family barely knew, but for capitalizing at every turn on her daughters’ fabricated fame, without shame or penalty.  Mothers are supposed to protect their daughters, and teach them from their own life experiences and mistakes.   I am forever grateful for my mother for being the bottom, when the bottom fell out. In contrast, it seems like Kris Jenner is only interested in commodifying  not comforting her daughters, and this is a very sad thing.

It is even more sad that we live in a country that is still debating the sanctity of marriage when it comes to letting individuals of the same sex have the legal right, but we celebrate and extol the often superficial nuptials of celebrities, like Kim Kardashian.

Yet, I want to know what you think, is are you sad for Kim and Kris? Did you see this coming?  How doe this change or validate your views of celebrity marriage or marriage in general?  Will Kim marry again? We want your predictions.


 

Long Hair Does Care: In Defense of The Hair Weave

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

They say long hair don’t care.  Well, I for one object!  Long hair does care and quite a bit. It cares just as much as dreads, ‘fros, twist, and braids. I can say that definitively because I have worn my hair in each of these ways, and it never fundamentally changed the politic of want was under the coif of curls.  From lace-front wig and ponytails, to fusions and tracks, hair extensions are the oft derided, but ever ubiquitous hair option for many women.  Yet, within the hair politic of the Black community, those whose choose weave can be unfairly stigmatized.  I’m here to say without fear of retribution from the naturallati that choosing to wear a weave does not mean that a woman is any less conscious.  Just as wearing dreadlocks does not make one deep.  Both are aesthetic choices, not the entire measure of one’s beliefs.

I am extremely passionate about a woman’s right to wear a weave, without the derision or stigma or forgone conclusions that come with it.  I am even more passionate about how generally awesome weave can be.  I love weave. I really do. I am not ashamed of this, not in this least bit.  If I could go to work with  Diana Ross hair, and not cause a government shutdown, I would.  For a girl like me, who often feels hot pink in a world of gray, weave is EVERYTHING.


“With hair, heels, and attitude, honey, I am through the roof.”
― Rupaul

 

 


Black women’s hair choices are loaded with baggage— a product of the  historical consequences an  of Slavery, Jim Crow, Reconstruction, and the Civil Rights Movement. Cornrows, press and curls, and Afros are more than just hairstyles. They are historical artifacts of a particular peoples shared experience.  In the Black community, hair is culturally referential in a wholly unique way.  Our hairstyle “means” something—even if the message we are sending isn’t intentional or at all representative of that which is being interpreted.  Within that paradigm, rocking a weave can be a difficult thing to negotiate for those of us who know and own our history.  Yet,  I have made this choice because of my personal perference.  I am asserting agency over my brand, and how I want to look—and this is not without consequence.

In my circle of friends, we call weave “help”.  Hiring “the help” requires money, time, and patience, but its pay-offs and trade-offs are interesting.  For instance, weave allows you to work out worry-free if your hair is natural or sweats out easily.  Weave allows you to add more drama to your look, or experiment with cuts and color in a way that is less permanent or damaging to your own hair.  The continuum of weave options run the gambit of cost and construction, but just as a good weave is undetectable, a bad weave tells all kinds of lies. Ideally, you want your weave to be “laid hunty” — or seamless with your natural hairline with a natural length.

I have worn weaves since I was a young teen. My weave aesthetic has certainly evolved from glued in tracks and box braids, but the intellectual and emotional consequence of choosing to enhance the length of my hair at any given moment have not.  There was a time when I bought into the idea that to be conscious you had to wear your hair like this:

or this….

However, with a few more years of experience and critical thinking behind me, I can recognize that  hair can but does not have to signify a person’s politic. I have worn my hair in a million ways, and it never fundamentally evolved or devolved my thinking around any number of issues. Yet, I can admit weave does change how others perceived me and, as a consequence how I perceived myself.  My suspicion is this is a shared experience.

I actually got the most attention from men when I was bald, but I actually feel just that micro-bit sexier with long weave.  I get an extra-pep in my step when I’m walking down U Street, with my weave blowing in the wind.  It takes a lot of courage to admit that.  Today, I can say that just as rocking a shorn head was a confidence journey; rocking a weave without fear or concern of judgement is a journey in and of itself. I am sure natural hair advocates will chop this up to some embedded media bred insecurity on my part. Perhaps they are right.  You can call it buying into euro-centric beauty standards, or selling-out, but there is something about the drama of long hair that kicks off my feminine wilds in a wholly different way.

I think it is time for those among us who are proudly WEAVED up and FIERCE to come out of the closet.   If your weave is LAID and FABULOUS, rock it proudly and without explanation to the hair “self-righteous” among us.  My confidence is always first about what is under the hair than what’s on top of it. So SAY IT LOUD, I’m WEAVED AND I’M PROUD!

Love Don’t Live Here Anymore: My One Woman Fight Against Becoming Jaded…

jad·ed
adjective /ˈjādid/

1. Tired, bored, or lacking enthusiasm, typically after having had too much of something
2. Worn out, wearied, exhausted or lacking enthusiasm, due to age or experience; Made callous, cynically insensitive, or even conceited, by experience or age


I’m tired. I’m tired of rejection, fear, loss, hurt, disappointment, settling, and surrendering.  I’m tired of having to validate my worth only to have it belittled and beset.  The sum of it all: i’m afraid is that I have become jaded.  Or at least close. I’m jaded with love, and this is a tragic, tragic thing indeed.

Love is the creative power in our lives. To be a writer—or to be a great writer—I must operate in love’s space.  Yet, lately love has not been loving me back and this saddens me—not in the woe is me, I’ll always be alone, forever single kind of way—but in the what part of the game is this kind of way?

Jaded – Aerosmith

I’m hearing the same thing from all of my single girlfriends.  We did everything right. We went to school, got the degree(s), bought the car and the house, so where is love?  We checked all the boxes, and were told someday our prince would come. But for many of us the court jester isn’t even knocking at the castle gate.  We tried at love and we “failed”; so what do you do when love don’t live here anymore?

The heart has four chambers, where I believe faith, healing, hope, and trust reside. Our capacity to love and our need to be loved by others is as natural, as the sun rising and setting each day.  Yet after a few disappointments, break-ups, and breakdowns, we are susceptible to becoming jaded.  What does jaded look like? Jaded is heartless.  Jaded is passive aggressive.  Jaded is unwilling to take a gamble or a risk. Jaded uses others as an means to and end.  Jaded is afraid. Jaded is weak. Jaded is not what I want to be.

My jaded is fearful.  It is afraid to open up or express what I’m feeling, thinking, or needing from another.  My jaded is insecure. It worries about what he might think, and guesses—dare not ask—what he may feel.  My jaded like Riesling and girl’s nights out.  My jaded sees love as the enemy, but craves it all the same.

Who’s Gonna Save My Soul

I know a lot of young women and men who have given up on the idea of finding love.  The mantras are all the same: “There are no good ones left—men and women”, “I’m giving up, (Mr./Mrs.) Right isn’t out there”.   And even more sadly, others have revealed to me that they don’t even know if they are capable of loving or being loved because of a passed transgression or a troubled relationship with their parents or other trusted family members.

Me’Shell NdegeOcello- Bitter


Love is taught.  We teach each other how to love through our relationships and interactions throughout our daily life.  We teach other people how to love us , by showing them our truest self and trusting they will have the audacity to embrace it. However, if  one is jaded—they are are unable to to access and share their most authentic self with others.

We  jaded put our loving hearts on ice, and close the door to any real connections.  We don’t concern ourselves with the feelings or needs of others, instead we go about our daily lives getting what we can get from others at a carnal level—denying and fighting the visceral connections that inform our best selves.

I’m decidedly fighting to remain a believe in the power and healing force of love. I am being intentional about trusting that someone will see my loving heart for what it is worth, and give me the reciprocity I deserve.   My heart is in fact the best part of me. To know my love is to know the most divine part of me;  he who will endeavor, best be prepared.  Of course there are days where I feel less encouraged than others, but as much as the love between humans is the personification of God’s creative force in the universe, I am faithful in its rejuvenative power.  Therefore, I pray that God takes this little jaded heart of mine and gives it knew life–more abundantly.  No jaded; No more.

Jaded??  I want to hear about it.  Leave a comment. Share a story.

 

 

Decepticons: Men Lie…Women Lie…But Why?

Ahhh lying—a human behavior about as ubiquitous as breathing,  eating, and sleeping—we all do it and we have all had it done to us.   Yet we often fail to count the cost of our lies until it is too late. In the context of relationships, the emotional toll of deception can be life shattering, but in a society where self interest remains supreme it seems lying will always be en vogue.

I recently had a conversation with a girlfriend, who is back on the dating scene after a long hiatus, about the anatomy of the lie.  She specifically wanted to know why men lied about wanting a relationship, when their actions demonstrated the exact opposite desire. To answer her question fairly,  I had to put on my “boy crazy feminism” hat and remind my homegirl that we all lie…men lie, women lie, but still the question remains why? 

DUFFY – AN EDUCATION – SMOKE WITHOUT FIRE

I have dated a whole series of liars over the years.  I call them “decepticons”, as in more than meets the eye.  For instance, one high school boyfriend, who I am convinced now was a sociopath told me he had a twin. He would put the twin on the phone to talk to me, and in my naiveté I believed his every word. Admittedly, I am have always been a bit prone toward gullibility. Some folks call it naiveté, but dating in my thirties has been a real education in the art of incredulity. With many suitors being a little more married and a little less single than they are willing to reveal, some of us are forced to become novice spies.  We search through phones, check emails and text, and even run background checks to catch our potential partners in a lie.  Other times, we are simply lying to ourselves, creating myths around who we want someone to be and writing similar fictions about who we even are.  Lying is omnipresent.

I have found that often times in romantic pursuits, men lie to get what they want and women lie about what it is they want.  It is a crazy symbiotic relationship that engenders false expectations on both sides. Also, lying occurs because it is a very risky and bold act to show someone who you really are.  Being honest means being vulnerable.  An ex faux beau once told me that men only lie to women for two reasons:  ”because they do not want to disappoint or they do not want to argue”.  This premise is simple, but reveals a lot about human nature.  We are all acting in our own self-interest and we all want something from each other.  Lying provides room for the niceties of societal conventions to be upheld.

For instance, imagine a young engaged couple.  What if the man was to include in the vows to his betrothed that while he did love her, and value her friendship above all others that he would probably cheat multiple times throughout the course of  their marriage to either validate his sexual prowess  or simply meet a physical need.  Or can you picture a Hallmark card—you know one of those Between Me and You sappy kind—that said something to the affect of “while you are really fly and cool and I dig our time together, i’m really tired of spending money on you and basically I just want to hit it”.  I know the scenarios are melodramatic, but I use them as a point of departure for the following polemic: We lie because we need lies to manage the social constructions of our relationships.

Beyoncé: “Resentment”

Despite the statistical feasibility or even practically of a long-term marriage without some form of cheating, American society decided according to a Christian aesthetic that marriage was between a man and a woman and for life.  This construction may not be healthy or aligned to our natural human desires, but it is normalized and held sacred.  I am convinced that sometimes the cheating is not always the biggest offense, but instead it is the deception.   I saw this quote on @Anti_Intellect ’s Twitter TL, from Ossie Davis an Ruby Dee, who were married 56 years prior to Davis’ death in 2005:

“Extramarital sex was not what really destroyed marriages, but rather the lies and deception that invariably accompanied it.” – Ossie/Ruby

When I look at the infidelity that touched my marriage, I have mixed feelings around this premise at first glance. However, ultimately I think there is a lot of wisdom here.  I’m convinced that we are don’t always put our trust into the other person, as much as we do the systems around us.  We believe that the people who love us the most will tell us the truth and we believe that if we are honest to our partner they will reciprocate our honesty. But this is not always the case.  Sure, I wanted to know why my wasband [former husband] would lie to me.  Yet whether lies or commission or omission, lying is more art than science. Sometimes a lie is just a lie, and without rationale.

Lying happens.  Our only option for navigating through the decepticons around us is to be true to ourselves.  Having a strong  character, and realizing the full authenticity of who you are intended to be is the highest form of honesty.  Conversely, lying to yourself is the biggest lie of all.

So how do you manage dating and love with decepticons all around us?  How do we endeavor to trust again after dealing with the hurt of being lied to? What have you lied about and what have you been lied to about?  Do lies have a place in a healthy relationship?

WTF I’m Thirty: Reflections on Getting Old(ish)

I have not written in a while. You see I’ve been in mourning for the lost of my twenties and it put me in a very weird space.  Until now I was not sure how to articulate that space, but this is what I have come up with to date: “FUCK I’M THIRTY?”.  If our present medium lends no clue to my intended inflection, take the following next steps: mix utter disbelief with a twinge of regret, two parts confusion, one part doubt, and a healthy dose of reluctant optimism and you have my feelings around this whole thirty thing.

I’d hate to be a killjoy or a counterpoint to all the thirty celebrator I see around me.  Turning thirty has by no means been a negative experience; it just caused a bit of cognitive dissonance. It is sort of just meeh.  Thirty is what they call a milestone birthday, like 18 and 21 but old.  Yes, I’ve seen lots of positive messaging around the big 3-0.  For instance, all the  staff writers at Essence must be made in ’81 because I’ve seen more articles around the joy of thirty than the healthy hair benefits of argon oil.  Beyoncé, Paris Hilton, Jennifer Hudson, and Alicia Keys all turned 30 this year.  You can’t be mad at that…that’s got to mean something….right? 

It seems like only yesterday I was 22, fresh-faced and innocent, side-eyeing some poor thirty-year-old–and thinking she need to take her lame ass home out of this club.  In the blink of an eye, I am now that lame 30-year-old.  I see the young girls out there, in their knock Hervés side-eyeing me. Color me paranoid but I really have to watch the places I go to avoid getting wrapped up with “young crowd insecurity”. I mean honestly, I look probably in and around 26, but I feel about 42 most days.  So, when I get out among a more youthful set, I feel a certain uneasiness like, “do they know i’m too old to be here?”   I now have tests.  If the people are dressed like nerds in an attempt to be ironical, probably not my scene. I mean hell...if there are no chairs, it’s probably not my scene.  Since turning 30, I can confirm that my threshold for bullshit has a inverse ratio with my age.

Yet like the great cultural guru R.Kelly once penned, “age ain’t nothing but a number”.  You see these things are all relative. I recently went to what I dubbed in a less enlightened,  bigoted, ratchet-ass moment of being “an old people party”. I  saw my future... and at first glance it wasn’t pretty. I saw women well over 40 in their 10:00AM contemporary service sheath dresses, and  misplaced stilettos—shape-wear be damned—dancing like their life depended on it.  The men some of whom were obviously married were scoping and stalking like players half their age.  I was getting the young bitch side-eye for once, which felt great.    Yet here is the kicker and the real take-away…they were still dancing. Even if they had on the outfit that was cool the last time they were cool in around 1990 or so, they were joyful and happy and seemingly secure in  whole ways I am to young to fathom.

Look, I  did the pomp and circumstance thing to ring in thirty.  I popped the bottles and put on the red bottoms and the hit dougie (incorrectly I’m sure).  I think the most troubling part about my 30 story was not quite achieving the milestones I had made for myself at 29, in this last minute, existential come to Jesus, life affirming moment I had in August 2010.  I was to be vegan, 50lbs lighter, a book author, a marathon runner, and out of debt. I pardon your indulgence I’m an ENTJ Virgo we raise the bar high.  Yet, by way of comparison,  at age 30 (according to most biblical scholars) Jesus of Nazareth was newly baptized by John the Baptist, and at the beginning of his public ministry of teaching and healing. That is kind of reaffirming in my backward way of thinking.  Even Jesus [Lord Savior Almighty and Overall Nice Guy] was just hitting stride a 30, so I mere human (albeit superhuman) can afford to let go and let God a little right?

Accordingly, here are the  promises I’ve made to myself at 30:

  1. Live my dreams at least little each day.
  2. Throw out the gantt chart. 
  3. Learn from the mistakes I make and make a consorted attempt not to repeat them.
  4. Date older and younger (because I can according to the sleazy man at work) 
  5. Know that every passing minute is another chance to turn it all around.
  6. Make my rules and act accordingly.
  7. Be kinder to myself and others.
  8. Dance like there is no tomorrow… often…. and in red bottoms, if i can help it.
I want you to to tell me your thirty story?  Are you where you wanted to be? What is true? What is myth?  What birthday are you looking forward to next? Do you miss your twenties? How did you bring in the big 3-0?

 

What Are You Afraid of…The Love Below?: Black Female Sexual Agency and the Power/Penalty of Yes

I recently hosted a shindig with a group of 30-somethings at my home.  The group was composed of both men and women, and much of the conversation—albeit fueled by alcohol and barbecue—revolved around male/female relationships and of course sex.  One of the men present at the event put forth the premise that all women fall into four hierarchically based categories: marriageable date-able, fuck-able, and untouchable.

This statement immediately sent me to my special place.  My anger reached biblical proportions. That is a less judicious part of me wanted to smite him on sight—but instead I listened. I listened to him rationalize ad nauseam a limited, simple, and rather hurtful view of women and in particular Black women.  I may be biased, but to me a Black woman’s experience and the way she does “womanhood” is too unique and really too  divine to be reduced to arbitrary categories. Yet his premise gives us a point of departure to discuss Black female sexual agency: its power and its penalty.

The fictions around Black female sexuality are dangerous.  From the sexually repressed mammie to the wanton jezzebel, these convenient and simplistic archetypes make me nervous for several reasons.  First, they are symbolic of the greater cultural systems of patriarchy that normalize sexism and more pointedly sexual prohibition for women—and in particular Black women. Second, they subvert Black women’s sexual agency and support constructed myths of the “good girl” and the “bad girl” to the detriment of Black female sexual identity formation. Finally, they treat sex as a commodity within the relational transactions of Black women and men, thereby stripping it of its spiritual and natural origins.

For decades, Black women have had to negotiate a sexual identity against the historical backdrop of slavery that found them the victims of systematic rape and sexual abuse.  From these origins, a range of sexual stereotype regarding Black women have emerged in the larger culture.  We have been portrayed as either oversexed or sexually deficient.  Sadly, the Black female voice has largely been left on the margins of such discussions, particularly when it contradicts mainstream ideas.   Accordingly, to assert agency over one’s sexuality may even today be interpreted within the parameters of stereotypes like the Jezebel:

The portrayal of Black women as lascivious by nature is an enduring stereotype. The descriptive words associated with this stereotype are singular in their focus: seductive, alluring, worldly, beguiling, tempting, and lewd. Historically, White women, as a category, were portrayed as models of self-respect, self-control, and modesty – even sexual purity, but Black women were often portrayed as innately promiscuous, even predatory. This depiction of Black women is signified by the name Jezebel.2

- Jezebel Stereotype

In the song “She Lives in My Lap”, by Outkast, a breathy Rosario Dawson’s whispers the lyrics: What’s wrong?/What are you afraid of?/The Love Below. I thought this line was very telling about the power differential that sex can cause in modern male female relationships.  I believe that many men are equal parts attracted to and fearful of a sexually confident woman.

All too often, a women’s sexual ego is equated to her ability to please a man— rather than her ability to derive sexual pleasure for herself.  However, if a woman outwardly expresses her desire for sexual pleasure and moreover asserts agency over her sexuality, she is often reduced to the “jump-off, “the  provocateur”, or ” the heaux”.  Categories and stereotypes become a way of managing common fears men have around female sexuality: that they will fail to please their partner, that their partner might commit adultery, or that they will erase men from their sexual experience all together.

The good girl/bad girl construct is another fall out of patriarchal thinking.   Steve Harvey’s Act like a Woman, Think like a Man is an artifact of this construct.   What’s the difference between a lady and a woman?  Patriarchy.  Western society promotes so-called sexual purity in women as a desirable quality for a mate.  On its face sexual purity isn’t a bad thing; I would simply argue that its value is applied inequitably across the sexes.   Black women are well aware of the “boys will be boys” mentality that governs sexual power structures of our community and for that matter larger Western society, but I believe we have been downright complacent, if not content to uphold and even perpetuate this norm.  We see and define our own value within these constructs: be sexually desirable—yes, desire sex outside the norms of society—no.

Categorizing or stereotyping women along lines of their collective sexual behavior is not only damaging to the female psyche, but I would argue equally dangerous for the greater society.  Ironically, as I type this, I am watching the documentary Love Crimes of Kabul. It traces the story of Afghan women who face prison for adultery and premarital sex.  While worlds apart from my reality, I would argue that the sexist ideology that governs such practices is very real in Western culture  and in the African-American community.  Listening to women talk about their lack of power to define their sexual behavior is an apt metaphor for the power struggles Black women face in defining, owning, leveraging, and embracing their sexuality.  Pain and pleasure interplay in this long running narrative.

Ever since Eve and the apple came into our cultural consciousness, women’s power over their sexuality has been compromised.  Women and men need to collectively take the power struggle, and manipulation out of our sexual relationships, in order to get back to its purest state. Sex is natural, spiritual, and beautiful.  When Black women and Black men confront each other honestly about what they are both seeking, the categories become extinct, the myths are debunked, and the stereotypes are confronted.  Love becomes free again. 

Catching Grenades: Dudes Do What They Want to Do. Always.

Ladies, I am going to let you in on a little secret.  Something that has been paradigm-shifting for me.  Are you ready?  Here it goes:  ”Dudes do what they want to do.  Always.”  This little maxim is the only real wisdom I have about men folk, but it has been truly illuminating.  It has given me the freedom to stop analyzing and simply start living, and in the best case love with anticipation and not debilitating expectation.

As women, we have a tendency to get caught in analysis  paralysis when it comes to our romantic relationships.  We spend countless man hours and tremendous bandwidth trying to figure out what he is thinking, feeling, and desiring.  This kind of behavior almost always becomes an exercise in self-deprecation. We begin to blame ourselves for why he isn’t responding, acting, or otherwise behaving the way we want him to.  Perhaps it is that we don’t listen, or we are not accomplished, thin, pretty, or smart enough.  We begin to create these mythologies to provide a rationale for another person’s behavior and we operate within the myth, when there is only one real truth. Again I will say it:   ”Dudes do what they want to do. Always”

Men are uniquely binary. They tend to operate more comfortably in a space of  ”yes” or “no”, whereas women tend to prefer more choices; we are creatures of nuance.  The fact that men tend to thrive in the black and white spaces of life, and not in the gray should make things easier on us. However, all to often our choice to over analyze negates this opportunity for peace and truth.  We still sit around with our girlfriends trying to figure out why he doesn’t call, why he won’t leave her, why he won’t go down the aisle or even to the movies, when the answer is simple. He doesn’t do any or all of those things because he doesn’t want to.  When he does, he will. Simple.

This whole theory is not to suggest that men are not complex. I hate the idea floating around that men our “simple”; to my mind they are just has  cerebrally splendid and capable of feeling, as their female counterparts.  However, the extent to which they work comfortably in the emotional realm is perhaps more limited than women, but when they do—I would argue that men can be far more deliberate, loyal, and even invested.  So what does this look like?

I have known men that once in love with a woman will put up with every kind of demoralizing form of rejection one can imagine.  Bruno Mars sings about catching grenades for the woman to whom he was devoted.  Yes—this song is melodramatic, but there is a lot of truth in this metaphor.  Because men do what they want to do, when they decide they want to love you or make you happy, the lengths they will go to to do so are remarkable.  Have you ever had a guy in your life, who was crazy about you?  I don’t me lunatic stalker crazy; I mean genuinely into you.  I have and I will tell you that in every case I never had to question how he felt or what he was thinking because his actions demonstrated everything I needed to know.   ”Dudes do what they want to do. Always”

I hope that this little tidbit  of wisdom helps you move on or move to a relationship that is affirming, fulfilling, and useful.  I also hope that it will help you loose whatever binds you have on your romantic life.  The next time you find your self ruminating  about what Mr. Man wants, needs, or feels immediately remember: “Dudes do what they want to do” and then channel that energy into yourself or even into serving others.  The time we spend devoting energy to understanding what he is thinking can be much more profitably spent defining our own hopes, desires, and dreams.

Thoughts?