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Just A Thought…”Why I Believe that Soul Mates Don’t Exist”


Why I Believe that Soul Mates Don't Exist | BlackandMarriedWithKids.com

Darius Lovehall: Romance is about the possibility of the thing. You see, it’s about the time between when you first meet the woman, and when you first make love to her; When you first ask a woman to marry you, and when she says I do. When people who been together a long time say that the romance is gone, what they’re really saying is they’ve exhausted the possibility.

If you’re anything like me at all, when you hear titles of articles like Aja Dorsey Jackson’s Why I Believe that Soul Mates Don’t Exist you instantly cringe. And yet upon clicking, and then reading, I found that I agree with most of what she’s saying. Jackson seeks to point out to people that there’s not a single individual on earth you will meet that instantly zaps the need to work at compatibility. And the idea that such a person even exists gnaws at the very root of relationships. Jackson gives a very real and pragmatic way to look at things. This blog also advocates heavily for practical and logical approaches to Love and dating. So I’m not mad at her for writing this.

At the same time though,  I don’t think the idea of having to put in work in a relationship and the idea of soul mates are mutually exclusive. Let’s think back to the first couple–no, not Obama and Michelle–but, Adam and Eve. God created Eve specifically as a helper to Adam by stealing his rib while he slept. The very word “woman”, in fact, means to come from man. Now this is no intentional disrespect to my same sex couples but the general theory is that subsequently God created every Eve with an Adam in mind. And he created Adam knowing Eve was coming. To me, the idea of soul mates refers to the creation of one soul with another soul in mind. And maybe some are actually blessed enough to meet that soul in their human life. I think it is possible. That possibility makes life and Love exciting and romantic. It keeps us motivated to go out there and suffer through the hardships of dating. You see, to quote the wise brother Darius from “Love Jones“, “Romance is about the possibility of the thing…when people who been together a long time say that the romance is gone, what they’re really saying is that they’ve exhausted the possibility”. Right now, I’m Living for the possibility that Mr. Right is the right one created by God with me in mind. And because I’ll never really know until I’m done with this life, that possibility can be endless if we want it to be and if we work for it to be. So let’s be smart about Love black folk–meaning we do the WORK involved in it to sustain it. But just because we’re working at it, let’s not exhaust the possibility of the thing.

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To Twerk or Not to Twerk? That is the Question


miley-cyrus-twerk-unicorn-onesie-twitterEven before we all seen Miley Cyrus do it to a married man on national television and before she “made it popular” on YouTube in a unicorn onesie, the issue of twerkin’ came up in my relationship. You see, Mr. Right, like many young men his age, is no stranger to worldstarhiphop.com. And people look to worldstar for some of the most outrageous, most outlandish, and shockingly uncouth antics of the people we inhabit this world with. It’s like World’s Funniest Home Videos for black people. For those of you unfamiliar, sometimes that means looking at a video of a bus driver punching one of his passengers. Sometimes the big video of the day is a woman twerkin’ in a bucket at a cookout. So at the end of one of these worldstar video binges, Mr. Right casually asked me “Babe, do you know how to twerk? Would you twerk for me?”

Immediately, this turned me off. And the questions began. Why would a man want his GTY_miley_cyrus_twerking_vma_awards_thg_130827_16x9_608fiancee to twerk for him? Is that just his way of getting his ratchet woman fix? Does he expect me to do what those ratchet girls do? Why would he be attracted to ratchetness? His question also subsequently led to a further discussion on whether twerkin’ makes a woman ratchet, whether twerkin’ makes a woman sexually promiscuous, and whether twerkin’ makes a woman thirsty for male attention. We both threw out our thoughts and opinions. And at the end of everything, he concluded, “I don’t see no problem with it if you’re doing it for me”. So I decided that if it’s something that he likes, I’m not completely opposed but I need time to break down my walls and barriers and decide how I really felt about this twerkin’ business and why I felt that way. As I went on my to twerk or not to twerk journey, I discovered a few things.

1) This adorable twerkin’ how-to video by YouTube fitness guru Keaira Lashae

2) A slightly different perspective on the twerkin’ phenom from JaeTracie

3) And this article

http://www.buzzfeed.com/joelanderson/2-live-crews-uncle-luke-campbell-wishes-miley-were-better-at

The thing that stuck out to me the most in the last article was Winnie Mandela‘s defense of Uncle Luke (all those links are worth checking out if you have the time btw). She claimed that there is a certain amount of booty throwin’ and tossin’ that’s in our heritage and culture. This was news to my ears. I mean sure I knew black people and dance had a strong connection. But could you really argue that twerkin’ was in our heritage? So I wanted to know more about it. And I found that there is evidence of some sort of traditional booty dancing in almost every country of Africa. Lacking a connection with hip-hop culture, it is a far less sexualized, vulgar, and demeaning practice. It is quite beautiful actually. See below:

And to know this new information excited me!!! But hurt me at the same time. I was hurt that I had to feel ashamed and embarrassed by the likes of Miley Cyrus. And even as I watch the infinitely more talented Twerk Team, I can’t help but feel like I’ve gotten a cheap, modernized and arguably even tainted version of something so uniquely beautiful. I felt robbed of an opportunity to do a more traditional booty dance for my future husband–dances not affiliated with stripper and video vixen culture, crowds of men with camera phones, revealing costumes, and men trying to “make it rain” on me. Now my only opportunity to dance for him is bending over, back-arched, popping it to some Gucci Mane on in the background? It’s not fair!!

women-dancing

At the end of everything, I am still undecided. I know I like to shake my booty from time to time. And I definitely don’t see anything wrong with that anymore. I know I am impressed by the muscle control and athleticism of the Twerk Team.  But I can’t see myself making a twerkin’ video anytime soon. Because as JaeTraecie points out, there’s a certain amount of checking your self-worth at the door that comes with this revamped and modernized dance craze. Unfortunately, it’s become mostly raunchy opening the door for more disrespect, objectification, and over-sexualization of black women. Unless of course, you know how to keep it cute and classy like my girl Keaira Lashae and like twerkin’s distant traditional booty dancing cousins from Africa. But what exactly creates that line between classy and trashy twerkin’? Is it the way the woman dresses in the video? Is it her motivation or intentions when creating the video? Or is it the overall way that she carries herself? Maybe if you’re not trashy, your twerkin’ won’t be trashy either. But I am still not exactly sure why some booty shaking black women embarrass me (i.e. Miley Cyrus’ jumbo teddy bear sidekick twerkers) while others make me feel proud to be black! However, what did become much more clear was the reason why my man would be attracted to and enticed by these booty dances. It is in his blood just as it’s in mine.

Love Like This

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Queenie K is new to the revolutionary concept of Love. As she grows and matures in the revolution, she looks to strengthen and refine her expressions, acceptance, and demands of Love. She hopes to apply the Love lessons learned not just to her dating habits but also to her interactions with family and friends in hopes of starting a cycle of healthy relationships for herself and those around her. Follow her on twitter @CocoaQueenK

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I was having one of my euphoria attacks.  Yes, they really occur.  Well, they do with me anyway.  I get really giddy and excited, unable to contain my energy.  I then release the energy in restless activity or giggles or spurts of awkward activities like a random twerk session by myself.  These spurts I call “spazzing.”excitedblackwoman

It was a Saturday afternoon and I laid sprawled across my boyfriend’s bed prepared to spazz from a pager-turning thriller I could not put down (one of the Jack Reacher novels by Lee Child).  He was preparing to engross himself into the game and we both knew that the Playoff’s trumped almost anything else.  Seeing the signs of my attack before it became full-fledged, he decided it would be best for us both if he contained it.

“Babe,” he said while I jiggled my leg impatiently, wanting to skip ahead a few pages in the book but knowing I could never do that.

When my eyes met his, he held my gaze long enough for my leg to stop jiggling before continuing.

“Just chill out.”

Three words.  And yet, they calmed me.  Maybe it was his tone or his eyes, both of which were serious and yet dripping with sincerity and concern.

I smiled sheepishly and returned to my book.  But, a paragraph later, I found myself watching him watch the game.  I can’t name a particular day or time when I fell in love with him.  But, I did.

Twerk1The peace he provided during my “moment” was a peace that has encompassed our entire relationship so far.  In the past, my relationships and not-quite-relationships came with some underlying turmoil.  I have always been in conflict. In every relationship, I found myself pining for something more.  Attention, affection, honesty… something.

My boyfriend and I are approaching our 9 month anniversary.  So far in I haven’t felt any urge to panic.  Although we argue and have our “moments,”  I draw a blank when sitting and wondering how he’s not satisfying.  In interactions with love interests of the past, it hardly ever took much thought.  I found myself exhausted from squeezing a relationship together with glue.  I often felt the relationship was one-sided blackloveand thought the more I would do, the more they would do.  (i.e., if I blow up his phone, he will realize how much I really want to talk to stay in contact with me and call me sometime too).  When I sat still, all my insecurities and ignored issues would bubble to the surface.  And, usually, when I let go, the glue would dissolve.

But with this guy, that’s not the case.

I think the secret to this happiness so far is that we are honest.  Even when it doesn’t necessarily come out right.  Even when it sparks an argument.  I’ve never had this honest of a relationship before.  And this honesty isn’t just about how we feel about each other but how we feel about ourselves too.  We talk about our feelings (doing this doesn’t have to be as effeminate as it sounds).

I’m not saying that we have everything down pat.  Sometimes, we focus more on what the other didn’t say than what he/she actually said.  Sometimes, we end a heated discussion with a “FINE!” and sit in stony silence before trying again.  And sometimes we don’t even get to the heated discussion part — we, instead, opt for the stony silence until we realize that it doesn’t provide any solace.

But, as I sat there watching him watch the game, I knew that I knew the man sitting next to me.  And he knew me.  And, after everything that we knew, we still gave the other a sense of peace.

I never knew there was a love like this before.

I Have A Confession to Make…


angry-black-woman-pf2-378x334

I don’t usually do this. But tonight I am writing a post to help me release some inner turmoil related to a seldom talked about but often felt human emotion that I’m currently experiencing. So here goes the confession…

You see, I can be a VERY  jealous and envious person. And not necessarily in that traditional don’t-you-dare-look-in-my-boyfriend’s-direction way. Ironically enough, that kind of thing doesn’t bother me. No. I mean something more like assuming that everyone is happy but me, wondering what those happy people have that I don’t, putting myself down for not having said “thing”, and then longing for this mysterious x-factor that would supposedly make my life better.  When I was younger, I would go as far as looking at Facebook pictures of women that looked happy and wish I had whatever it is they had that made them so happy. Only I never found out what that was because I based my assumptions off faulty premises. I saw pretty, smiling faces and assumed happiness. But when it came to my life–which I knew in far more detail–I only saw the lack and I only felt the constant longing. As you can guess, I carried this trait into all of my past relationships and even, unfortunately, into the current one. Sometimes, the constant longing proved a good thing. It propelled me endlessly toward solutions when we had problems. It helped me accept and receive feedback and criticism so that I could become a better partner.  Finally, it encouraged me to speak up for myself and challenge the men in my life to meet my needs. But other times, envy made it harder to wait and to trust and to feel content where I am. Tonight certainly seemed more like the latter. I watched two people I don’t particularly care for do something that I’ve always wanted to do. And I became so suddenly unhappy with my situation. Why did they get to do this? And why did I have to witness it? Why wasn’t it me up there? The negativity multiplied and spread through my body like a sickness. Jealousy must INDEED be a disease because I caught a bad case of it. Despite the fact that Mr. Right-For-Now works overtime to ensure that I enjoy my relationship life and that I have no reason to envy anyone else’s, somehow I always find myself longing. I am not proud of my response. This isn’t me bragging. This is me feeling weak, sick, and ashamed. Even though I appreciate everything Mr. Right-For-Now does, I still felt the poisonous sting of jealousy because someone else got something I wanted. I still feel it now as I write these words. Envy is my vice and it has been for a long time. And I don’t have a list of thought-out solutions, clever fixes, or innovative suggestions for myself or for anyone experiencing this. After all, I don’t really think you can avoid feeling jealous.  But I will use this experience as information and an opportunity to grow. God revealed me to me tonight. I learned that no matter how much I may have grown to Love myself, grown to trust my partner, and grown happy in my relationship, someone else’s life and relationship can still influence me. So now I know what I need to work on to mature.

Thank you for letting me share! I feel oodles better just admitting this. You know what they say, “the first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem.” In that same respect, the first step to expelling envious emotions is expressing them. I hope to write again soon with news of my progress. Goodnight Loves.

Another Letter from the Editor


To My Beautiful, Glorious, Empowered Readers:

Me in 2013

Me in 2013

Leading up to and in this new year, 2013, I have reflected, analyzed, and mulled over many things. And to some of your disdain, my posts have become a bit less frequent. I figured I at least owed you an explanation as to why. So please allow my transparency. Maybe it will help someone.

Over the last few months in my relationship with Mr. Right-For-Now, I have been obsessed with one thing and one thing only: the ring. Much of this blog has been about me learning how to Love and be Loved. I’ve dedicated myself to elevating higher than the you-can’t-find-a-man-and-keep-him-cuz-you’re-too-sassy-independent-and-unattractive rhetoric geared toward black women. All with the hope that if a regular, young black woman could do it, so could others! And as I’ve become a better and better girlfriend/woman/partner/lover/friend, through my self-exploration, relationship classes, and relationship research, my impatience with the dating game increased. Because if I’m honest, the goal of all this elevating was a ring–the ultimate pudding proof that I (and others like me) can do this Love thing in spite of everything. And although I’m smart enough to know everlasting Love doesn’t start nor end with a ring, I wanted what I wanted how I wanted it.

Sometimes, our own wants and desires blind us. We cannot hear or see God’s working or more importantly God’s timing. This may happen a bit more often in my life lol but maybe someone reading can relate. I feel like I do the work, I do what God asks me to do, and then I want my blessing. My own ego and entitled-ness does not permit me to hear God clearly shouting at me, your time is not now! Prior to this ring example, it took me five years to graduate college with two degrees. But in a last-minute effort to graduate on time, because I simply wasn’t the kind of girl who needed to do a fifth year, I took 18 credits, in addition to working an overnight job and acting as president of my collegiate honor society. As a result, I failed two courses–which severely lowered my GPA–and missed out on many hours of sleep. And still ended up doing a fifth year. It was a completely humbling experience. I remember crying to my sisterfriends, a bitter and angry spoiled brat because I hadn’t yet graduated. But who was I to think myself above having to do a fifth year? In the end, that extra year resulted in my meeting Mr. Right-For-Now. Had I graduated on time, I may not know him to this day and I certainly would not have dated him.

Mr. Right-For-Now & Ms. Not-Right-Now at the Neighborhood Inaugural Ball 2013

Mr. Right-For-Now & Ms. Not-Right-Now at the Neighborhood Inaugural Ball 2013

So when I realized my impatience for my ring put a dark cloud over my relationship, I pulled back on the reins. Whoa there. Easy girl. I must be here again because I did not completely learn my lesson the first time. And God will bring me back here again and again until I get it right. So I’ve thrown my hands up. And accepted the most simple of facts, if he hasn’t proposed, one of us or neither of us is ready. I could read a hundred more relationship articles today and that fact will remain. Now I’m not going to trick you and tell you that I’ve been some kind of happy camper since this realization. Actually, it’s been quite the opposite. I’ve been struggling and at a loss of words and advice for my other young sisters and brothers out there–hence the lack of posts. Because I do not have the answers. And I’m questioning the questions. I don’t know if we’ll work out and I don’t know if Mr. Right-For-Now will be Mr. Right-Forever. All I know is that there is a protocol for waiting that I haven’t been following. So I’m attempting to become a better waiter in 2013. And I don’t mean in the sense of waiting on my man or any person really. But because there will be lots of waiting in life. Especially for the finer things. And I figure I better get good at it now.

I love you all. And wish you LOVE in all shapes, sizes, and colors this year! There is no force greater than that of Love on this earth. Love connects us all.

Yours Truly,

Ms. Not-Right-Now

Untitled Poem #3


I wrote something about a month ago. Some of you may know that I dabble in poetry as well. I figured I may do something a little different. And share it here. Since it seems to go with my blog’s black Love theme. Happy New Year. And please enjoy:

Image

I know why she stood straight on that auction block

Shoulders never slumping,

Head held high—her humanity holding her together.

Erect, poised, spirit a flutter in the darkest of circumstances. It seemed almost as if she might take flight. But how can that be? When Master declared her somewhere between ½ and ¾ as much alive as he? A system constructed to break her down and yet up she stood?

Because she had a secret! She knew her heart beat so that he’d have a rhythm to fall asleep to. She’d breathed out enough air to understand how hers gave him life. Her spinal cord aligned so that his fingers would have a trail to follow.  Neurons fired so that she could remember exactly how many hairs sat at the right corner of his bottom lip.

She nursed the memory of nestling a King in her bosom. So no amount of bondage or constitutional statutes could reduce her pulse to 3/5 of what she knew it to be. And if she ever reduced her Love fractionally, they’d both cease to exist that day and forevermore. A whole woman Loved by a whole man.

I know why she stood straight on that auction block

Shoulders never slumping,

Head held high—her humanity holding her together.

Just a Thought…


Saw this post on the Facebook page of Jada Pinkett Smith and I had to share.

WordsofWisdom

 

I read the first part and sat there entranced by her logic, boggled that this idea hadn’t occurred to me before. It is a simple concept: by degrading women, men degrade themselves. It is very similar to the argument that the oppressor also oppresses himself when oppressing the oppressed–a view made popular by Paulo Freire’s work Pedagogy of the Oppressed. I really sat there in awe. This is only part of the post. The rest reads as follows:

 

WordsofWisdom2

 

Do you agree with the points that she’s making? Does a man degrade himself by “tricking” at the same time that he degrades the woman he passes off too? Oftentimes, I’ve seen skirt chasers as men with a sort of power over women. When in actuality, at least according to Smith, they are just as lost as the women they do dirty. So I had this Kanye West “All Falls Down” moment, where I thought about how truly profound he was to say, “we’re all insecure, I’m just the first to admit it”. There are many many foolish things we do when lacking Love for self. Think about it.

 

 

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