The Reasons Why I’m Single

This month two exes who are currently married called me and asked me why I am still single. One was even bold enough to say that I’m not getting any younger so I need to be concentrating on finding a fella. If men don’t have anything else, they have more balls than a brass ass monkey.

One of the things that I have noticed about men is that they are eternally befuddled with the idea that a woman can be single and actually happy. I guess they are so used to the female friends in their lives constantly bewailing about being single that they believe that all single women are a miserable lot and then they come across me and are shellshocked. But let me continue my tale.

Now why these happily married men (so they claim) are worrying about me and my relationship status I will never know but it’s three specific reasons why I am a currently single woman. The reasons are relatively simple but at the same time, complex. Let me explain.

Number one: it’s easy to be single in 2021 considering the state of gender relations in this culture. The men I’ve come across are so dang angry and filled with bile and unrealistic expectations that’s it’s a turnoff. I’ve seen men with missing, yellowing teeth who think they are entitled to the most beautiful woman in the world. And in addition to being highly unattractive, they have the audacity to have rigid gender standards for women.

In their world, women are only good for fucking, cleaning, cooking, and more fucking. I just want to know how do these men have the nerve to be both homely and entitled at the same time. And on top of everything, they expect women to jump through hoops of fire for their affections and I’m not doing shit. We live in a patriarchy and I thought men were the hunters.

What woman in her right mind wants to be bothered with men who have that mentality? Not I. Unlike many women, I’m not parched for male companionship or validation. My bed will never be that lonely.

Number two: I have a disability and any man that I decide to be involved with needs to be able to deal with that fact. I’m an epileptic and as long as I take my medication, I’m seizure free and that’s a beautiful thing. But suppose I do have a seizure? How is he going to react? Is he going to jump into action or crumble? I need a strong man, not a wimp. You can die from a seizure and I need a fella who can help me, not be a hinderance to my health.

And lastly, at this stage in my life, I don’t want to be bothered. I’m not trying to male bash but many men are feminine energy vampires and they will drain a foolish woman dry. And I’m not foolish. So many women are walking around looking like life is whupping their asses and it’s because of the men in their lives. I look pretty good for an old broad, especially when I put on my concealer and eyebrow pencil. And I’m going to continue to stay looking fly and living stress free. But one day, I hope to find a nice fella. A man who makes my soul sing and my body tingle. A man filled with a passion to match my own passion for life. And who read books on a regular basis. Until then however, I’m single and chilling. Happily content.

Merry Christmas🎄🎄🎄🎄

Merry Xmas Y’all💋💋💋

I would like to wish everyone a Merry Christmas to everyone but in particular to everyone who has suffered the loss of loved one this year or previously. The holidays are rough for those who are grieving and it’s hard pretending to be happy when you’re not.

While on Facebook, my memory feed popped up and I saw a picture of my brother Larry who died last year. The picture was taken seven years ago and he looked so happy and I was so happy to see him. We ate good, drank good, and had a marvelous time commiserating with my children. And now he’s gone and all I have left is memories and it’s so hard for me to believe that he’s gone.

There are many like me who are experiencing this sense of loss, loneliness and confusion during what is supposed to be the most wonderful time of the year. So get some rest and chill out my fellow grievers. Don’t let anyone work your nerves. Brighter days are coming.

The New Dirty Word – Feminism

What Feminism is Really About

Before I joined the social media, I used to read articles from the website Salon.com and debate folks in the now defunct comment section. At one time, Salon had a website named Open Salon for the readers who were writers and yours truly won Editors Choice a few times. But I’m digressing as usual so let me tell this tale.

What fascinated me the most about Salon is that whenever articles from prominent feminists were posted, the men would be foaming at the mouth like rabid dogs in the comments, writing barely coherent paragraphs filled with rage against them stanking ass feminists and spewing how the world was a much better place when women knew their “place.”

The mantra of feminists everywhere

And the vast majority of these men were white men. It wasn’t a lot of Black folks in the comments during that time period and I was just amazed at the anger from these men who are on the top of the economic and social totem pole in America. Even with all this power, they felt threatened by women having autonomy over their lives.

I’m really not surprised. Feminism which can defined as women being able to have the same rights as men drives normally sane people batshit crazy. Because you know women are supposed to stay in their place, cooking and cleaning, having babies, and shutting the fuck up. Women are supposed to walk in the shadows, never basking in the glory of their own sun. How dare these bitches think they have the right to control their own destinies and bodies without male interference? Shame on them!

But I hadn’t seen nothing yet until I joined Facebook and saw the venom that so many Black men have for the ideology called feminism. These men blame feminism for kicking Black men out of their homes by giving poor Black women access to welfare. For allowing Black women to become educated and have careers. For breathing. For weave. Makeup. Everything that’s wrong in the Black community has been placed at the feet of feminism. And it’s the most pathetic shit in the world.

Feminism makes the world a better place because it gives women options. The option of not having children or ten children. The option of being a career woman or a stay at home mother. And the option of doing absolutely nothing at all. Freedom to live without a ton of societal rules, expectations, and regulations just because you were born female. It’s nothing wrong with women being free to control their lives. Nothing at all.

Memories, Memories, Memories

I’m sure that any folks who come across my blog and read my work is probably thinking “Man she morbid as hell!” And I don’t mean to be but so much has happened to me in such a short time. Loss of loved ones, health issues, all kinds of shit. But someway, somehow, I manage to persevere. The way I go about it might be puzzling to some but it makes perfect sense to me.

American culture shames people for having emotions outside of being constantly happy all the time. Even through times of immense grief, people are expected to put on their best faces and pretend that they aren’t hurting in order to not offend anyone. How selfish and inane is that mentality. How cruel and heartless. And utterly American.

So as I dwell in the valley of the emotion called grief, I’ve decided that the best way to deal with it is facing it squarely in the face. I look at pictures of my lost ones, laughing on some days and on other days crying. But I have to see their faces so I refuse to stop.

I’ve started a collection of pictures on my Facebook page called “Blackness Personified” and it’s filled with pictures of Black people from various decades. Some of the pictures are of celebrities and some of the pictures of regular Black folks. I chose those pictures because they reminded me of simpler times, when I was a little girl and my family was still alive.

I reread books that I read when I was a much younger woman and marvel at how much I’ve grown as an individual. Certain passages in those books I didn’t get in 1989 I understand totally now in 2021.

I talk to my ancestors too. I’m not a religious person. I’m downright heathenish for the most part but I do believe in the power of the ancestors and that they watch over us from wherever they happen to be.

I talk about them constantly because I have to keep them alive, if not in body but spirit because if I don’t, they will truly be dead and I cannot face that. It’s enough that I will never be able to see them again in the physical but to pretend that they never existed just because they died is beyond cruel: it’s sick.

So I will continue to tell their stories. Like the time my mother and I beat up my older brother because he was drunk and ignorant and we had to let him know the true power of Black Girl Magic by whupping on that ass. My memories is all I have left of them and I will continue to tell their stories. And when I become an ancestor, my children will do the same for me. Or I will haunt their asses.

In Honor of Boogie Woogie – My First Cat

A black cat

The first man who broke my heart was a black cat named Boogie Woogie. He became my cat in February of 1980 and he was my first pet.

Back in the 70s and 80s, the schools in Chicago stayed on strike and it was during one of these strikes that Boogie came into my life. It was a snowy day and I was outside playing in the snow with my friends Rosalyn and Derrick when we saw a man walking down the block.

He was a tall, dark skinned Black man wearing a black wool trench coat, a black fedora hat on his head, and a black cat wrapped around his neck (I swear I’m not lying). Derrick asked the gentleman,”Can this little girl have that cat? She loves cats and need one because her house has a mouse.” And we did. The fucker had chewed up one of my dolls.

The gentleman took the cat off his neck and gave him to me and strode off down the street, never to be seen again. I took my new cat into the house and fed him some lunch meat and when my mother came home from work, she was greeted by the sight of me laying down on the couch with my new pet that I christened Boogie Woogie. Can’t remember why I gave him that name but he was Boogie Woogie for then on.

Boogie was in my life for just two short years but during those two years, he became my little buddy. He would walk me to school and would be waiting on the porch when I got home. He slept with me nightly under the covers and would sit next to me when I read to him.

My mama wasn’t a cat person but she tolerated him and would toss him the innards of the whole chicken she cooked every Sunday. I can see them right now with him waiting patiently to get his weekly treat and her rolling her eyes but still feeding him.

He was an outdoor male cat who wasn’t neutered so sometimes he wandered off for weeks but he always came back to me. But one day he didn’t and I never saw Boogie again. For years, I dreamed about him and in those dreams, he came home and jumped into my bed purring like crazy because he missed me too.

During the years since Boogie left, I’ve had many cats and currently have one, a bad ass cat named Diddy but Boogie will always have a special corner in my heart. My first pet. My buddy. And if there’s a place where souls go after they cross over, I’ll see my Boogie Woogie again when it’s my time.

Those two years he was in my life were very special and he made a little Black girl happy although his absence brought pain. I will cherish those two years forever and will always remember a black cat named Boogie Woogie.

Zeus – The Most Trifling Greek God in Mythology

I was introduced to Greek mythology in the sixth grade and I loved it. Full of drama and adventures, it was filled with stories of heroes rescuing damsels in distress and evil critters with horns who spit out fire. But looking back, the Greek gods were a trifling bunch who would be right at home on today’s reality shows. It was 12 major Greek gods and bunch of minor ones but I’m only going to discuss the most dysfunctional Greek god in mythological history. In my fabulous opinion

The Original Baby Daddy – Zeus

Zeus was the supreme ruler of Mount Olympus and king of the gods who was a horn dog of the highest order. He was the original baby daddy who had children scattered around the world and made the lives of mortal women hell on earth because they were unfortunate enough to catch his eye. Like poor Io.

All she did was exist, he saw her and he fell in lust. When he was caught chilling with her by his pathologically jealous wife Hera, he turned her into a cow. But Hera wasn’t no fool and knew her husband well so she asked for the cow because it was so pretty and his goofy ass gave Io to her. She would then put a creature named Argus in charge of watching Io because Argus had a hundred eyes and Io couldn’t escape. Eventually the god Hermes would come to her rescue by killing Argus allowing her to run away but even then, Hera stayed on her ass. She sent a gad fly to sting her constantly and it drove her mad. She jumped over a part of the sea in order to get away from the fly that would be called Ionian after her.

Eventually she made it to Egypt and Zeus would turn her back into a human. She would have a son with him named Epaphus and one of her descendants would be Hercules. But damn she went through hell because of Zeus’s horny ass.

Several women went through the bowels of hell because of Zeus and that is why he’s the most trifling, sneaky underhanded Greek god of all time. His entire existence was centered around his cock and as long as he was getting satisfied, he didn’t give a fuck about anything else. Not his wife whom he cheated on constantly. Not the women’s lives he destroyed because of his cock. Not the children created by his unions who were often left motherless because of his shenanigans. He cared about no one but himself and as I’ve gotten older and have reread his stories with an adult eye, I believe the writers of Greek mythology were giving game to women. Telling them how some men got down and to avoid them at all costs. Stay away from those Zeus fellas ladies because all they bring is cock and drama.

Aliens and Why They Ain’t Fucking With Earthlings

I’ve always believed that life exists outside of our universe but they don’t want to be bothered with humans because for the most part, humans are stupid. And any form with any common sense and intelligence will ride right past the planet Earth and keep moving. Below are the three reasons why.

1. Humans don’t read. Daily, humanity shows how uneducated and ignorant they are by posting misspelled words and barely coherent sentences on various social media platforms. Some are actually having debates about whether the Earth is flat or round in 2021.

2. Humans are gullible. The rise of former President Trump and various other demagogues proved that the vast majority of individuals in this society are followers who will listen to any slick talking shyster in a suit who appeals to their baser instincts. Especially those folks who need to feel superior to others because instinctively, they know that they ain’t shit.

And number 3. Humans really aren’t likable. They are some mean spirited creatures who get immense joy in the suffering of others. They beat children and torture animals. They believe that spousal abuse is acceptable in some cases, especially if the victim is a woman. They justify the sexual abuse of children if the perpetrator is famous and wealthy. And for some reason, they believe that poor people are the scourge of society although they are literally one paycheck from being in the welfare line themselves. If you don’t believe me, just take a cruise in these social media streets and see the trash, I mean people regurgitating some of the most ignorant rhetoric ever. Straight gutter and proud of it. And have the audacity to think that they are exceptional. Shid……

‘Merica☠️☠️☠️

Death – The Final Frontier

Ever since I was a child, I’ve been both terrified and fascinated by the specter of death. I became obsessed with death after spending the summer with my grandmother in 1980. She had moved to Wichita, Kansas to reside with her daughter, Aunt Annabel, and we spent hot summer days together with her telling me tales from her youth.

She was a Southern Baptist and believed that the coming of the Lord Jesus Christ was going to happen in the year 2000. So I analyzed the situation, well as much as a nine year old girl can analyze and decided that it would be cool for everyone to die together at one time. Although I would only be 30 at the time, at least I would die in the company of my family and friends. The thoughts that children have.

In the years that have passed, I’ve learned a lot about death unfortunately. I’ve lost so many friends and family in the past five years that it’s surreal. Especially the deaths of my original family, the family I was born into. My brother Randy died in 1994, my mother Gertrude in 2006, and Larry in 2020. My father wasn’t a part of my life so it was just myself, my brothers, and my mother. Now it’s just me and it’s been one of the most difficult journeys I’ve taken. Although I have children, a grandson and a new grandchild due in the spring, and a ton of cousins and friends who love me, I still feel so alone at times. I’ve come to the realization that this feeling of loneliness and despair will never go away but it will always be a lingering bitterness.

Now I’m obsessed with dying these days. Worried about leaving my children motherless. Worried about what would happen to them if I should die. Wondering who’s going to love my babies like I do. My mother had three children and I’m the only one who is left. What kind of shit is that? Why am I still here? And how does it feel to be dead. Is there really an afterlife and a place where souls go when their journey on Earth is over? Will I see my dead loved ones again? Totally morbid as fuck and unhealthy but it is what it is.

Happy Sunday Everyone

Just a little note to tell everybody to embrace happiness this week. It’s become quite popular to be unhappy and wallow in misery all the time, but that’s not normal boos. Life ain’t easy and it’s going to be some rough patches. You’re going to experience the deaths of people you love, job and money losses, relationships that end but that’s life. And life is not a fairytale. So be grateful that you woke up this morning and pray that you wake up tomorrow. Because it’s not guaranteed.

An Ode to Donny Hathaway

Mr. Donny Hathaway

I’m a big fan of the singer Donny Hathaway. No matter how many times I listen to his music, I’m in constant awe of his voice. The soulfulness, the emotion, the passion. That is why he is the greatest Black male singer of all time in any genre of music. And let me explain why.

If you’re Black and from a certain generation or older, Donny Hathaway’s music has been a part of your life since childhood. Especially his song “This Christmas” which is played on Black radio stations all over America during the Christmas season every year.

I grew up to his music but I didn’t really get into it until I was in my late 30s and really listened to his voice. The smoothness, the urgency, the pain, the passion. His music has made me weep in joy and sadness because his voice is so beautifully unique.

His music ranged from gospel to soul and no matter what he sang, you felt it. His music generates all types of emotions, from extreme joy to complete despair and you don’t care because of that beautiful voice that draws in you in. It fulfills a need that’s so primal that it’s scary.

Like his song “I Love You More Than You’ll Ever Know.” It’s about a man pouring out his heart to the woman he loves and it’s so damn sexy. If I found a man who loved me like that, I would take his ass to City Hall on Monday and marry him so quickly his head would be spinning. Cherish his love and feed him everyday.

The reason why I decided to write this blog was to give Mr. Hathaway some special flowers from me because I love him so much. His music makes my soul sing, my heart melt. Continue to rest peacefully Boo. My crush who’s no longer here in spirit but who’s music is still alive and standing the test of time.