Friday, July 30, 2010

Today I was sitting in a mall. Perhaps I was even enjoying the smooth, exotic, yet familiar taste of a Chic-Fil-A sandwhich and waffle fries when I was taken aback by one of my full figured black sisters. Endulge me if you will. I glance up slowly from dipping my waffle frie into the tangy sweetness of the polynesian sauce when my eyes were flooded with visions of spaghetti straps and backfat, lo rise jeans and a white lace thong. There was a gag. A drop of fry. A "Shit". Then an even more audible "REALLY!?!" Thusly, I write this letter to my fellow Lane Bryant shoppers and enjoyers of buffets and victims of genetics:

I believe in taking risks and being daring in clothing choices-my onesie for example, but I need you to realize that we can't wear everything. We should dress to accentuate our positives: beautiful cleavage, nice legs, smoldering eyes, structured face, nice hands, pretty wrists; those things beautiful on us beautiful. Those things that we keep under wraps: our backfat that's the only thing i really care about.


Wednesday, July 28, 2010


The sounds of the city are slowly creeping into my cracked open windows. The melody of honking horns and chugging trucks and people yelling and babies giggling is harmonizing with the static sounds playfully leaping from my radio. The whisps of steam float above my coffee. The linen curtains flap in the breeze. I sit at my seats edge, legs open staring down between my legs..thinking nothing except how much i love the underwear im wearing. My head rests heavily on my shoulders. The weight of my thoughts are starting to take a physical manifestation. They are weighing as heavy as the feeling of lead in my heart right now. He hurt me. Brakes squeal in the distance and i'm snapped out of my daze. I look up. Facebook is staring at my face. Oh look Victor just landed a callback. I momentarily rejoice. I should call him. Damn, I can't shake this. Before I know it my head is back at 0 and i now notice that a pedicure may be in order. I chuckle at this thought. I start to see way beyond the exposed cuticle. I glance down past the hardwood floors, my gaze is reaching beyond the apartment below and somehow my soul attaches to this and before you know it, i'm tip toeing barefoot down the street.

I look to my left and to my right and the whole world has frozen. The whole world has waited for me to be here, right now, at this exact moment and it scares me. I catch out of my right eye frozen limbs, various forms of people in action. I notice Silence. The only rhythm, the only music I can hear right now is the pulsing of my blood in my body, the percussive beating of my cells playing bumper cars off each other and i can even hear the faintest sound of my DNA exploring mysteries and releasing information constantly controlling me and allowing me to be here right now. I gasp. I look ahead and I run. I run and freedom is kissing my face. Flowing past me is all the silly things that bind me. I run for my insecurites. I run for my non acceptance of my sheer greatness. I run for a family that I felt should have guided me more in life. I run for those days when i've not been able to eat. I run for my pride that wouldn't allow me to ask for help. I run for being an embarassment. I run for hating myself. I run for giving myself to men in order to understand beauty for increments of time. I run for ancestors whose lessons have shaped my life. I run for running when i get nervous. I run for being so damn needing of others. I run alone. The world around me is still frozen solid. The flow of life in me is not ending. I don't grow tired. My spirit not weary. My heart no longer hurt. I run. I stop at the top of a hill. And I laugh. I laugh with arms spread wide. My chest held high. I laugh and I scream. I recieve it. I recieve you. I recieve this. I laugh until tears stream down my face. I am OK. It's gonna be OK. I am OK. I am OK. I am OK. I AM LOVED. I AM LOVE. I turn and run as if fire is attached to my hills. I run so quickly that I fail to notice that the world around me has recaptured breath. And following me, trailing me is the beautiful sound of LIFE. I hear and feel life behind me, but slowly catching up with me and surrounding me.

I run so quickly that my feet lift off the ground. I hover above stairs, I pass through the apt below me, through the floorboards and re-enter myself. My head floats without the heaviness of before and as my gaze shifts from floor to the computer desk to the computer screen, I breathe. My hands raise and hover above the keypad for a second before typing...

Today I accept life and I'm okay. And today,I know, I can make it without you and this and everything is the world can throw to me. I am loved.

Tuesday, July 13, 2010

a BOY story

Here's the story of a little boy who spent hours resting in a window looking out dreaming blankly; seeing. A boy who spent minutes tracing the indentions left on his arm from the sill. A boy who spent hours in a mirror singing to himself. Who created poems about crickets. Who showered for hours just to have alone time. A story of a little boy obsessed with smelling pretty because he wanted to be like his mommy. A little boy who labored hours upon hours to be good in sports to keep his daddy smiling. A little boy who lied so his sister never got punished. A trusting one who ate mudpies at her request. A small one that could sit for hours beside his grandma and not say anything just stealing glances as she looked away, never talking really-listening, laughing, and learning and staring. A little boy who pinned clotheshangers to his shirt so as his mother did the laundry he could be her very special helper. A boy who peered around corners and cupped his ears to hear what the adults were saying and what kind of music his dad was listening to-he later would remember that music and listen carefully to remember his dad's smell when he was no longer around. This is a slight story about a boy who remembered thinking he could kiss the clouds whenever the swing went high enough. A little lad who, to this day, can feel his grandmothers fingertips on the small on his back. Who could close his eyes and still hear her singing- a sound that he would miss more than anything in this whole world. A child who laughed at everything and rarely cried at anything. A kid who played football by himself for hours, who probably to the masses looked like he was bat shit crazy. A boy who started every morning with a song in his heart and ended every evening with a lullaby on his lips. This is a story of an alone child. A kid who lived, laughed, sang, danced and dreamed-alone. Surrounded by others he was physically never left, yet his heart always felt such solitude. A blessing and a curse. The gift to entertain himself and the need to constantly be surrounded was his downfall.
He later decided that misfortune would not be his. He took his freedom and chased a dream and stared at stars and kissed the heavens at yellow lights and always smiled. Sometimes sorry weighed heavy behind his brown eyes. But who has time for that he thought, so he continued to smile. He continued to hurt, but most importantly, he'd smile. He grew tired. One night a star told him everything was gonna be alright as it twinkled above his first apartment during a time when the sorry was winning the battle in his eyes. A tear clouded his eye and cleansed his soul and he took a breath and heard a song and smelled comfort and rested patiently.