misogynoir

Dear Men: Stay The Fuck Out of Women’s Wombs

a63f4623eda816a57e0de56b167a5168--offensive-shirts-t-shirt-slogans

We are currently in the Season of the Scorpion, the greatest zodiac of all time. I remember reading a long time ago that  the Scorpion sign governs the pelvis, and reproductive (sexual organs) and I have learned the hard way as a Scorpion woman that this is true because my reproductive organs have been giving me hell my entire life. Three c-sections, a miscarriage, an ectopic pregnancy that almost cost me my life and did cost me a Fallopian tube and now at a stage when I should be in menopause, I have been diagnosed with two uterine fibroids (one the size of a grapefruit and the other the size of an egg, and a benign cyst on my left ovary.

And I am also going through perimenopause which is the period before menopause in which hormonal imbalances causes your brain to turn into mush (brain fog), you are constantly sweating and freezing at the same time (night sweats and chills), and you hate everybody (mood changes). But I am digressing because this article is for men who refuse to stay their asses out of the reproductive health affairs of women.

From the old ass white politicians who are a stroke away from using Viagra (if they are not using it already) to dusty Hoteps who are getting paid off the gullibility of silly ass Black women by telling them to eat nuts and berries to stop their menstrual cycle (starving their dumb asses for dick) and making them pay a fee, these men will not shut the fuck up. I have never seen such men who think that they know more about the bodies of women than actual women.

These men tell women that childbirth is not dangerous although the United States leads in maternal deaths, more than any other Western country in the world. The same men who have not had a physical since high school and think that wiping their asses is “gay” so you know that they are not getting a prostrate gland exam on a yearly basis.

I have been truly trying to become a better person in my online social media interactions with misogynistic men because I know that they have been heavily indoctrinated through religion ideology to believe that they are smarter and superior than women and they are just lost souls but I need these fuckers to hush and stay in their lane. Worry about your own bodies which are falling apart due to being too stubborn, proud, and scared to see a doctor on a regular basis. Stop drinking so damn much after a certain age because it affects your sexual performance and may be a cause of erectile dysfunction. Worry about your own raggedy asses.

I have been trying to be nice but due to my current health issues as a woman, I am dragging arrogant, clueless men to hell and back anytime I see them commenting on women’s reproduction. You don’t have a vagina, uterus, ovaries or Fallopian tubes so you can’t say shit. Nothing. Nada. No Bueno. Learn to stop pissing all over the toilet and wipe your asses properly, you over coddled, clueless grown ass toddlers and remember that having a penis does not give men special, magical powers and a vast abundance of intelligence. Be humble ninnies.

 

Standard
misogynoir

Desperate Heifers or When Being a Basic Chick Goes Terribly Wrong

IMG_2893 (2)According to the standards of American society, I am considered a middle aged, overweight Black woman. Which is the bottom of the barrel according to some. But I cannot tell because this fat, old, black woman has never been desperate for male companionship. Never had a problem getting a man; if anything, the problem was getting rid of the bastard when I got tired. However, it must be be a man shortage in inner cities throughout America with a large black populace because these chicks on Facebook, Twitter and other social media are desperate as fuck.

viola-davis

As a person who is on the social media daily, the antics of black women online desperate for male attention and validation is a sad sight indeed. These women shame other black women for receiving child support (because you are not supposed to bring a black man down. Fuck them kids. Let them starve), for wearing weave (You just want to be a white woman), for wearing your hair natural (You nappy headed bitch you), for being a single mother (You making us look bad and that’s why I can’t find a man), for not having children (Bitch you think you are better than us), for being fat (Go sit down fat bitch and eat some chicken), for having a nice body (Hoe bitch tramp). I mean the list goes on and on.

But I do understand why these women are so parched. We live in a system of patriarchy which conditions women to look at each other as competition. Especially in the black community where dick is God. And if you don’t have a dick in your life and you are a woman, you ain’t shit. A black woman can have a bachelor’s degree, a master’s degree, a juris doctor degree, and a PhD but unless she has a  man attached to the crack of her ass, she is considered useless.

Yeah, these sisters be working real hard to get some dick on Facebook and social media platforms and the sad part is that it’s not working because desperation breeds contempt. The same men who call me everything but a child of God on Facebook threads be in my inbox trying to get their mack on.  But that’s karma for that ass. You are out here shaming other black women for their personal choices in life just to get attention from men and your dumb asses still don’t have what you are searching for: dick. These chicks are still single and parched for the easiest commodity in the world: penis.

Standard
black men, black women, Dysfunctional Shit, popular culture, Relationships

Sex and the Single Lady Generation X African American Style

single-black-woman

Often on the social media, when discussions about the dating game comes up and how it truly sucks to be an African American single woman in your forties, marginally attractive black men are quick to chime with “You need to choose better or expand your circle.” Negro please.  A lot of these niggas ain’t worth two dead flies and what is so pathetic is that these men know that already because these two bit niggas are their friends. But these dudes spend their time trying to convince women that it is our fault for not choosing this fabled, little seen creature who is allegedly in abundance but we are too choosy and like thugs to find one: The Proverbial Good Black Man.

I have an eclectic mix of black lady friends on the social media who expand from California to New York. From London to Barbados and all these ladies are saying the same exact thing: it sucks to be a single black lady of any age but in particular for a woman of a certain age because of the social stigma that makes women in their forties crones before their time and because of the lack of quality black men in the dating world.

And it is not just on the social media where black women in their forties are complaining about the availability of black men in their age bracket that are financially solvent, emotionally stable and ready to commit to something as simple as a movie date but offline too. I have friends that I have known for years who are single and fed up with the games, the utter lack of accountability and have surrounded their hearts with a wall of stone.

Two years ago back in August, I got myself out of a long term relationship that was going nowhere because he irritated my soul and made my ass itch. I couldn’t imagine spending the rest of my life with him, let alone another month so I walked away with zero regrets. But like always, people do not like the idea of a black woman being single and free because a free woman is a dangerous bitch.  So my best friend and my daughter suggested that I try online dating and see what happens.

I am very open-minded so I conducted some research and decided that OkCupid would be the best online dating service for me because for the most part, it’s free and I was not about to spend money that could be spent elsewhere on internet dating services. Shit, I have a child and makeup habit to support.  And Lawd have mercy on my soul why I do that because I have met some characters on that bitch.

Let’s talk about the horny white men who fetishize black women sexually like the old ass Grandpappy that was in my inbox. Looked like a walking skeleton with hair. Old as Methuselah. Old as mummy dirt talking about how he likes “the sisters.” If you don’t go sit your old ass down somewhere Pop Granddaddy.

Or the cute ass white fella around my age who actually could hitch a word or two together and wrote a magnificent paragraph about my beauty, charm, blah, blah, blah but when we actually talked on the phone, told me I asked too many questions. I guess he thought I was going to be discussing how black women suck a better dick than white women. Like I wasn’t going to question a strange man I met online about his life.

And now the brothers oh my goodness. Those horn dogs.  Constantly sending sexually explicit pictures and messages, trying to come over my house for a meal without offering to spend a dime on groceries. Never suggesting so much as a date to a coffee shop because they are some cheap bastards. Always trying to get some coochie and come up on a meal at the same time.  Some basic motherfuckers.

But eventually through all this garbage, I eventually met two cuties but they wasn’t shit either because these men expected me to chase behind them. In this new world of dating, Black men consider themselves the prize and the women are supposed to chase behind them whether these men are blind, crippled, crazy and look like an old sock; they have dicks and women are automatically supposed to drop to their knees and worship the mic, literally and figuratively. These two men in particular never wanted to communicate with me via the phone except for texting and that shit irritated me. I am a relic from a forgotten era: a time in which men asked for your phone number, called you and you talked for hours, having mentally stimulating conversations about life, music politics and all kinds of deliciousness. Not today. These men didn’t want to talk to me on the phone; they just want to text and these fuckers couldn’t t even text properly. Misspelled words, sentence fragments and quick to ask for a nude picture, all kinds of foolishness from complete strangers.

So after all of this, I have taken myself out of the dating game for now because at 46, I do not have time for this bullshit. I will not be chasing complete strangers. I will not be deciphering text messages from grown ass men who should know how to spell. I will not be allowing strange men into my home around my 15-year old daughter because they are too cheap to take a woman on a date. But according to some black men and their band of thirsty Pick Me heifers, I just need to choose better or switch up my circle. Yeah right. To quote a beautiful sister from Facebook name Phoenix Renee, “BM over 40 are tired, emotionally bankrupt, and relationship illiterate and lazy. They’re right where we left them 20 years ago. Only now time (and in some cases, drugs/alcohol) is catching up. Too many didn’t do their “work” for decades and now we’re not settling. So now the cry is “no good women”?”   Yeah right motherfuckers.  How can single Generation X black women who want love and companionship form normal, functioning  loving relationships with a group of emotionally stunted men who are  intent on living a second adolescence? Men who refuse to be held accountable for anything? Who blame black women for everything? Naw bruhs it ain’t happening. So stop pushing this tired ass narrative about choosing better and admit that a large portion of your brethren ain’t shit.

Standard
misogynoir

For the Hood-Rats, Bust Downs, Thots, Baby Mommas, Welfare Hoes, and Every Black Woman Who Lives on the Outskirts of Black Respectability

Black Woman in Winter Wheat Field

So much about being a Black woman in America is denial.  Denial of your womanhood because being Black is considered more important than being a woman.  Denial of your sexuality because being chaste and pure is considered more important being sexually free.  Denial of anything that will make the Black male gaze disappear although these men get on the Internet daily and declare to the world how little they respect any Black women, whether she is clothed from head to toe or buck ass naked. Miss. Priss or Hoeletha Jones. No in-betweens because we ain’t that complex and only come in hoe or nice girl.

But there are a group of women who live their lives proudly unaffected by the patriarchal poison that has permeated our culture. These women are considered outcasts, rebels, insubordinates, mutinous because they refused to be tamed. Often paying a high psychological cost for this freedom, these women are unrepentant and are tired of living in the shadows of a male dominant society. These wild women are coming out roaring and it is scaring the shit out of the respectable ones.  They are the hood rats, the bust downs, the women of dubious reputation and their stories need to be told.

They are the women you see daily in inner-city neighborhoods throughout Black America. They are your neighbors, the women who bought a dish over after the death of a family member. The women who don’t have a problem with walking children to school not their own and picking them up. The women who did something strange for a little piece of change to help some bills.  The women who don’t mind sharing her food stamps if it means another child will eat.  Yes the Undesirables of The Black community. Scorned on a daily but they still manage to rise on a daily basis. Beautifully brown in shades of the deepest chocolate, caramel and vanilla latte. Full and voluptuous to willow slim. Powerful and rising. Phoenixes.

But it took a lot of pain for these women to get to this point of not giving a fuck about respectable Black folks and their opinions.  To be able to find their voices in a culture in which Black women are continuously shouted down and silenced. They have literally stared into the fires of hell and managed to survive, dealing with issues of sexual child abuse and beatings, neglect, poverty, a piss poor educational system, and men who did everything in their power to spiritually destroy them.

How do I know all of this? Because these women are me and I am them.  I have been called everything but a child of God in my existence on this planet and as Celie said in The Color Purple, “But dear God! I’m here! I’m here!” To tell my tale and encourage other women to find their voice.  And I am not alone. Many women like me who have thrown off those chains and feel so free sometimes I cry.  For those sisters still living in the shadows, it is okay to come out and shine.  The chains that are enslaving you are not real; just a social construct.   Find some joy and live your lives. Really live. Without fear of judgement. With love.

 

 

 

Standard
misogynoir

Confessions of a Pretty Girl Killer

little_girl_black_african_american_2-e1456799563678-1132x509Everyone thought she was a stupid, uneducated slut. She didn’t finish high school or have a job and her only occupation in life was a different man every night of the week. Not quite good enough for the local boys to bring home to mama, but good enough to screw. Not good enough for the stuck up little broads in the hood to be friends with, but good enough to call over to someone’s porch to find out some local gossip. Yeah, everyone thought she was stupid. But she had them all fooled. No one suspected she was leading a double life.

Normally, she would play the role of the ignorant hood-rat with nothing on her mind but a high and a new man but for the last two weeks, it had been different. She had put on her longest dress, pulled her hair back in a neat bun, and she went to church. The first time, she was there for bible study; this time, revival week. While there, she would allow herself be swept up into the drama of it all and she would stand up in front of the church members to declare her sinfulness to the world, begging for someone to rescue her from her this life of depravity. As always, it would be a righteous man, a god fearing man who saw that beneath the long dress was a body that was full, voluptuous, and needed to be touched. He would pretend that he wanted to help this poor, misguided young woman. There would be the conversation, the sweet nothings in her ear:

“Everything is going to be okay baby. Now that you are here in the house of the Lord, He will make it better. All you need is the love of a good man and everything will be just fine.” She would smile sweetly and look up at him as if he was her reason for being alive. Still looking at him, she would say, “I walked here because I didn’t have any money for carfare; could you give me a ride?” Naturally, he said yes.

How could he resist such a young tender girl with eyes that were so beseeching but yet so inviting? Of course she would have to meet him on the next block, couldn’t have the hens of the church clucking. Always the same behavior, just dressed a little bit nicer. She used the same routine the last time. Amazing how gullible men could be. On the ride home, she would act like it so hot to her. She needed some air and would ask could they go to the beach. It was so emotionally draining, telling all her sordid secrets to all those people and some fresh air would feel good. Naturally, he was down with that. It was in the fall and not too many people would be there.

At the beach, she would talk about the series of disappointments that had been her short life. The mother who showered her with love and affection, until she reached an age in which her mother saw her as a predator looking for the same prey: men. The father who was gone so long she could not remember his face. Her mother’s husband who took away her innocence and left her with filled with self-loathing and sexual knowledge too much for her to understand. She would also talk about the men who made her feel like a queen at night, but would not speak to her in the daytime. The girls with the fake cheerleader smiles and serpent-like personalities. The school system which had no time for disturbed little girls who needed nurturing, not more emphasis on state wide test scores. Then the tears would pour, real tears of pain, over the half-life she had been leading on this planet.

Always the arm going around her shoulder, the accidental, on purpose brushing of her breast, the awkward first kiss. She would let the kiss deepen to get things going. Slowly they would fall into the sand, and by careful maneuvering, she would end up on top. She would make him feel so good, so great for that moment. Then, with a quick, savage movement, she would slash his throat deeply. There wouldn’t be time for a struggle, his basic instinct for survival being thwarted by his sexual need. He never saw the tiny switchblade that she hid in her hair, the hair she had loosened from the bun she wore earlier. He never saw the look of calculation in her eyes because he was too busy looking at her breasts.

Afterwards, she would watch him for a few minutes, making sure he was dead. Then she would drag his body towards her car, the car her victims did not know she had and had hid near the area where she would make her kill. She deliberately went to this part of the beach because it was very secluded. She would take the towels and blanket out of the trunk and with care, cleaned the blood from his body. Unruffled by the night, she rolled his body into the blanket. With a strength most people had grossly underestimated, she put the body in the trunk of her car, closed it, rinsed her hands off, got in her car and drove away. She went to the outskirts of town, and dumped his body there, into a shallow grave she dug earlier. The other time, she used the city dump.

Last week was the first time she had killed someone. She did it the first time just to see if she could actually kill someone in cold blood. Everyone thought she was such a dumb, pathetic, excuse for a human with the intelligence of a slug. To kill, one had to be cold-blooded, methodological, concise, and cunning. No one knew about the deep-rooted resentment and hatred lurking in her heart. No one cared. Of course, her heart was cold. Her own mother pretended to love her until her natural jealousy of other women turned her against her own flesh and blood. She knew dude was screwing her daughter. She just didn’t care; she was too busy getting drunk and trying to hang on to her trifling husband. She felt the girl brought it on herself, walking around with her breasts bouncing everywhere.

The girls in the neighborhood felt the same way. The girl was the first to develop, with a pretty face how they hated her for that. The boys were always skinning and grinning in her face, although they talked about her like a dog to them. What was so special about her anyway? Bitch. And men! From the moment she developed, they wouldn’t leave her alone. Her perverted stepfather who had warped her sexuality before she even had the chance to warp it herself. He even had the audacity to be a deacon at a church! The boys in the hood who pretended they liked her but only wanted some sex, and wouldn’t even acknowledge her if it was daytime. And especially, these last two self-righteous, horny bastards she found in the church. Going around pretending as if they really gave a fuck about her. Just like her stepfather. Ha! What a joke. They deserved to die. All these fuckers deserved to die and she was going to be the one to do it. Going to church with their wives and families, pretending they were so holier than thou and then using the church as a trick stop. It made the decision to kill these type of men so much easier. The ability to kill had given her a thrill and a thirst. The next time, she would have to change her routine. People might catch on. Oh no but of course not. Everyone thought she was so stupid. She had killed twice and hadn’t been caught. They had better watch out. She was out there.

Standard
black men, black women, blacks, Dysfunctional Shit, Race, Sociology

Ten Ways to Find Out if You Are a Brainwashed Negro

tommy-sotomayer

Brainwashed Negro: A Black individual who has internalized every negative stereotype about Blacks and their culture and is seething with self-hatred and low self-esteem. Usually believes that the only path to success and true happiness is to marry or assimilate into White culture, hoping to escape the sins of blackness.

One of the biggest problems in the Black community is a lack of unity caused by years of self-hatred. Self-hatred in the Black community is due to centuries of brainwashing by the dominant culture into believing that Blacks and their contributions to mainstream society are worthless and that Blacks themselves are worthless and ugly. Self-hatred has caused some Black folks to demean themselves and other Blacks in many hurtful ways that are not productive to anyone.  Here are 10 ways to find out if you as a Black person have been brainwashed by the dominant culture:

uncle-ruckus-prayer10.  If you are still running around claiming that your family has “Indian Blood”, particularly, Cherokee. I wonder why the only Native American tribe some Black folks can name is Cherokee, as if Iroquois, Mohicans, Seminoles and others do not exist.

9, If you believe that all Black NBA players are married to White women. 86% of married African American NBA players are married to Black women.

8. If you deny the African within by stating that your descendants are from the Caribbean. How in the hell did you think all those Black folks ended up on those islands?

7. If you believe that all White people are rich, beautiful, educated and are endowed with special magical powers.

6. If you tell a dark-skinned Black woman, “You are so pretty to be dark”.

5. If you give an automatic pretty pass to light-skinned women just because they are light-skinned and have long hair.

4. If you refuse to frequent Black-owned businesses because you believe that their services are sub-par as compared to White-owned businesses.

3. If you believe that “Good Hair” consists of hair that is long, flowing and silky, not kinky.

2. If you believe that it’s perfectly okay for other races to demean Black people by dressing in Blackface or if you are completely silent when other races demean black culture because you are so worried about losing your spot as the Anointed Negro and want some of that magical White fairy dust to sprinkle on your trifling ass.

1. If you make statements such as “Black women have too many problems” or “I cannot find a Black man that is on my level” to justify dating outside your race. There is nothing wrong with interracial dating unless you are using it as a way to escape the deep psychological problems of hatred for one’s race. Perhaps the problem is not Black people collectively but YOU personally and all YOUR issues and burdens of being Black in America.

Standard
Uncategorized

Juana the Mad: A woman ahead of her time

Venerable Vixens

In 1509 the Queen of Spain found herself imprisoned within a room in a castle by her own father. Forty-six years later she died alone and abandon. The unmemorable death of Juana of Castile was the result of a family full of greed, power, hate, love and mental illnesses.  Very few people know much about Juana of Castile. Though her tale is one of interest, love and betrayal, it appears history, like her own family, has forgotten her chilling life.

The mad beauty whose only crime was wanting a dedicated husband.

The Perfect Princess

Juana of Castile was the third child of the infamous rulers Ferdinand and Isabella of Spain. Born on November 6, 1479, Juana was immediately betrothed to Philip of Flanders, the Duke of Burgundy, as a political move. Juana’s ambitious parents planned to marry her off in order to build more allies in Europe and strengthen their…

View original post 796 more words

Standard