What’s something most people don’t understand?
Empathy which is the ability to step into someone’s shoes and understand what they’re going through.
Category Archives: American Culture
Adventures in Epilepsy Land & Other Shit
So in January, I had another seizure and now I’m on two anti seizure medications. The new one Vimpat is classified as a Schedule 5 narcotic so now I’m a dopefiend☠️☠️☠️. I’m exaggerating but I’m so damn tired, even more tired than I was before. My vision is blurry, my balance is off. In layman terms, I’m fucked up but no one gives a fuck. I had plans to attend a concert tonight that I paid for in December but physically, I wasn’t up to it. I have insurance on the ticket so I will get my money back eventually but I’m pissed. At this stage in my life, I thought I would be somewhere with a drink in my hand and my ass tooted up in the air but nah. I’m in the bed on the weekends with a cat. Who had the audacity to beat my ass a few weeks ago because I went out for a few hours.
No one understands the strength it takes me to deal with this medication. The amount of willpower it takes me to get out the bed four to five days a week to go to work. To keep from falling asleep while working. To merely exist in a culture that has a profound contempt for the disabled. Especially if you are a Black fat woman.
Epilepsy is a hidden disability meaning that the average person who sees me will never know that I’m an epileptic. So people don’t take my disability seriously at all. I had to snap out on my supervisor for asking me to do some work that my reasonable accommodation paperwork clearly states that I can’t do. Man I let that bitch have it without saying one cuss word. She hasn’t asked me to do anything else that’s not in my scope but her stanking ass won’t give me the work that I do very well which is responding to customers emails. Out of complete spite and stupidity. I will never understand why some women treat other women like shit but will kiss the crack of the ass of the man who they are currently fucking but treats them like dirt.
I made a reminder for me to blog once a week on Sundays and I’ve only done it a few times. Partly because my energy levels are in the gutter but I’ve also realized that my niche is not particularly popular so I’ve been like “fuck it why bother?” People aren’t that bright and only care about superficial shit like no talent reality television “stars” and relationships. Do I sound bitter? Yep and so what? I have the right to be upset about being a great writer who can’t get on in a culture that rewards mediocrity. Hell yeah.
So for those who happen to read this, I just wanted to ramble for a little bit. I might blog Sunday but more than likely, I will be in the bed with my cat. Such is the life of a middle aged epileptic.
A Slave folklore Tale Told to Me by My Grandmother
“One day a slave was walking down the road when he came across a skeleton. He asked himself “I wonder how these old bones got here. The skeleton replied “Mouth put me here and mouth go put you here too!” The slave scurried back to his owner and told him the story and said if he’s lying, massa could kill him. So they went back to the skeleton and when massa spoke to the bones, they didn’t reply and since massa was a man of his word, he killed the slave. As the dead slave laid next to the bones, the bones said “I told you mouth was go put you here!”
Moral of the story: Shut the fuck up
You’re writing your autobiography. What’s your opening sentence?
I’m just a little Black girl from the South East Side of Chicago.
National Epilepsy Month 2022
It’s National Epilepsy Month everyone and I’m rocking purple eyeshadow to honor the millions of people who have this disorder. Personally, I don’t think people take this disability seriously enough because it can’t be seen until a person has a seizure. Which ain’t pretty and complete with convulsions and foaming at the mouth. Just imagine taking brain medication on a daily basis. Just imagine worrying about having a seizure out in public and the possibility of having your pictures taken by a fool and posted on the social media to go viral. That’s the life of an epileptic so please have some empathy for us.
Lessons Learned From the Social Media
I’ve been on the social media for 14 years this month and it has taught me several lessons. Mostly that humans are some miserable creatures who get a sick thrill off the unhappiness of others. It has also taught me a lot about the pathology of some Black folks who are Generation X and below and I finally figured out how to word it and it is called The Searching for a Savior complex. We grew up on stories about the Civil Rights Movement, the heroes that came from that movement. But subsequent generations didn’t produce any heroes so we turn entertainers and social media content creators into heroes. And the so called heroes use it to their advantage either for money or support for their foolishness. And folks fall for it over and over again. The very definition of insanity.
Grief Once Again
It’s Sunday afternoon and I’m sitting here watching a marathon of the television show “Snapped” and crying. As usual because I’m thinking about my lost ones and is filled with sadness, anxiety, and anger.
Earlier this year I read an article about Caroline Kennedy and it was written right after her brother John died in that plane crash along with his wife and sister in law. The topic was about being the sole survivor of your immediate family and what a terrible burden that had to be. As everyone knows, her father was murdered in 1963, her mother died of cancer in 1994 and then her little brother died in 1999.
I broke down after reading the article because it explained what I couldn’t articulate what I was feeling and is still feeling at the time of my brother’s death two years ago. American culture doesn’t like to ponder on painful thoughts so it really hasn’t been any research done on this topic. The impact of being the sole survivor of your family is overwhelming. At times, I thought I would end up in the psych ward but I’m still here, holding on to my sanity by sheer grace and will power.
I find myself clinging to my memories tighter and tighter as the days go pass. I listen to the music of my youth and young adulthood because my family were still alive when that music was created. I take a longer route to go home from work because I like to ride through the Bronzeville neighborhood I lived in from 1988 to 1992 because my mother and brothers were alive then and we all lived together.
I’m still coming to terms with the realization that the people with whom I had formed my earliest memories with are all gone and it’s nothing I can do about it. I’m not a religious person but I’m hoping that it’s a place where our souls go when we die and I will see my people again. Everyone will be restored to their full glory and they will greet me with love and joy.
A Podcast
Violence, Mayhem, and Chicago
My family migrated to Chicago during the 1940s and they told the most marvelous stories of living here during that era. From dranking at juke joints in Bronzeville to eating the good cooking at various Black owned restaurants scattered throughout the city. Then I have my own stories of growing up on the South East Side. Memories of hot summer days, running through open fire hydrants and buying icee cups. But I’m starting to hate the city of my birth because of the violence. It’s barely two weeks into the new year and it’s already bloody. Pregnant women getting shot down like dogs. What the fuck is going on!!!!
It’s something sinister in the streets of Chicago. Its become a place where life has no value and anyone can become a casualty of thugs. Believe or not, it was actually a time in Chicago when the elders, women, and children were considered off limits to gang bangers but something changed in the 90s. The thugs decided that anyone could get this heat and and since then, Chicago has become a cesspool of ignorance and violence. And Black folks in this city have no one to blame but themselves because they coddled this shit. Nurtured this shit in the name of racism instead of looking in the mirror. White folks aren’t coming into neighborhoods such as Englewood and South Shore where violence is a daily ritual. Nah this is strictly a Black thang. Black people are committing these crimes and Black people are protecting these criminals.
If it wasn’t for my grandson and future grandchild, I would move to Las Vegas and never look back but I have to be an integral part of my grandchildren’s lives. I have to live near them, see their faces up close on the regular. Touch them and sniff them like a mother cat does to her kittens. So for now, Chicago is where I’m at. I’m praying for the day when this madness will disappear.
Radical Crone Feminism
As I get older, I’m finding that my personal brand of feminism is getting more radical. Now I’m not talking about kill all the men or any nonsense like that, but as I age, I just don’t give a fuck about the opinions of men anymore. Regardless of race, regardless of their socioeconomic status in life. Dirt poor or filthy rich, if you are a man, your opinions of womanhood don’t mean a heap of merde (French for shit) to me.
I can’t speak for all women collectively but for me, getting older has been a blessing because I did some foolish things as a younger woman and now my mind is clear as freshly cleaned glass. When I look back, I just shake my head and thank the ancestors that I’m still alive to tell my tale. The most foolish thing I did as a young woman was live with two men (not at the same time☠️) and it’s two of my biggest regrets as a woman. No woman should live with a man that she’s not married to because it’s not worth it. Why should a young woman waste her youth, energy and resources cleaning, cooking, and sexing a man who is not her husband? It doesn’t make any sense and I’m not even a big proponent of marriage these days but shacking is an exercise in futility. He’s getting the best without having to do anything. Marriage is a legally binding contact that brings certain privileges for both parties. Particularly for women when it comes to children.
But marriage is still very important for a large portion of women and that is why they be jumping through hoops of fire, trying to prove their worthiness to men who in some cases, aren’t worth two dead flies. Moving in with men that they barely know, auditioning to be wives. Just foolishness all the way around.
If I ran society, I would encourage women to concentrate on themselves and stop listening to the voices of men. Tap into their femininity and I’m not talking about this soft and meek shit thats being sold to the parched masses by shysters. I’m talking about that Kali femininity. Kali is an Indian goddess who’s a bad chick. She’s considered the goddess of death in some circles and others, the epitome of womanhood. She’s a wild woman and women of today need to aspire to that wildness. This is a patriarchal society that we live in and in order to survive as a woman, you have to be strong and cunning or you will become prey for these wolves. So stop serving yourselves up on a silver platter to men who look like roadkill y’all.
The Potty Mouth Granny 