Monday, July 30, 2012

Me & Yellow Bone



I think Yellow Bone and I will be just fine. We talked and she's on her way over. I don't feel like going into details right now, but something big is going to happen this weekend. So stay tuned for details.

Sunday, July 29, 2012

I Broke Up With Yellow Bone


Friday night I broke up with Yellow Bone. While I do feel sad and depressed about it, I knew it had to be done. Why? Because Yellow Bone and I weren't on the same page. I'm 27 years old and I'm thinking about love, marriage, family and kids. I want these things to happen sometime in the near future. Yellow Bone is the same exact age and she's thinking about love, marriage, family and kids YEARS from now. However, right now her mind is on one thing: Partying. 

For a long time I thought maybe she would grow out of it. I tried to take into consideration that she's from Detroit and the party scene here is new to her. I thought maybe it would start getting old in a few weeks and she would desire to stay home more. Well this hasn't happened.

Yellow Bone is a very attractive woman and LOVES LOVES LOVES being the center of attention. Settling down is the furthest thing from her mind. She was happy to be in a relationship with me, but all the other things (kids, marriage etc) were YEARS away as far as she was concerned. She told me recently that she didn't want to jump the broom until she was 30 plus years old. Meanwhile I'm thinking to myself in 2-3 years I'm popping the question. Clearly she and I were NOT on the same page. 

Then there is this: At some point I began feeling somewhat neglected by Yellow Bone. I started feeling like the emotional support I expect from my woman was missing. For me this is one of the most important parts of a lesbian relationship. This is one of the main reasons I LOVE women. 

Yellow Bone main focus in life right now is partying....that's about it. And I can half-way understand. She is young. She is educated. She has money to blow. She is beautiful. She wants to live it up while she's still young. Again I get it. 

I'm the complete opposite. My attitude is more like been there done that....time for the next phase. This is ultimately why I decided to let her go. I can't keep her caged in and I can't make her desire the same things I want.

I stopped going to the club once I realized the crowd was getting YOUNGER which meant I was getting OLDER. Every now and then I might pop up at a club (preferably a strip club because watching booty fly through the sky never gets old), but the club scene is not for me anymore. 

Yellow Bone (angry and crying): You son of a bitch! How long have you been thinking about this?

Me: For a while...though I wasn't sure about it until recently.

And with that Yellow Bone slapped the shit out me. She slapped me so hard I stumbled back. Stunned because I didn't see it coming, I struggled the hold back the tears stinging my own eyes. My face was burning like fire. I also had to tell myself not to hit her back because that's always my first instinct when someone puts their hands on me. 

When she tried to slap me a second time I caught her hand in mid-air and held it, while staring her in the eyes. Still crying, she backed down and slumped to the floor where she cried and cried for at least an hour. I sat down beside her. I tried to put my arm around her but she pushed me away. 

Me: Listen Yellow Bone....I never meant to hurt you and I hope we can still be friends. I want you in my life. 

Yellow Bone: Just not in your bed...

Me: It doesn't have to be that way. We can still be friends. We can still do things that we normally do together...just not within a relationship...

Yellow Bone: I don't want to be your friend. I don't want anything to do with you. 

And we that she stood up, gathered her things and left. I haven't heard from her since. She won't return my phone calls, text messages or emails. I tried sending all three yesterday. I'm going to give her some space. I think once the pain subsides she will come around....I hope. 

I'm taking a break from blogging for a while. I'm not really up for it this week.

Thursday, July 26, 2012

The Moment From The Olympics That Will Forever Live In My Memory



The 2012 Olympic games start tomorrow. I'm excited because I enjoy watching the Olympics. I've watched every Olympics since the 1996 Olympics, which took place right here in Atlanta, Georgia. The above video is up from that Olympics. This video shows Kerri Strug's gold medal vault. I was 11 years old when I watched her stick the landing on one foot. I became an instant fan. 

I'm a huge gymnastics fan. I am in love with Dominique Dawes, who in my opinion never got her shine (and I think we all know why). She was the only member of this gymnastics team to have all 9 of her scores counted towards the team's total score. In my opinion she was the best on the team, and today she looks ten times better than the other broads from that team...




Rumor has it Dominique Dawes is gay....PLEASE GOD LET IT BE TRUE!!!!!

Wednesday, July 25, 2012

Race DOES Matter!

Race Does Matter

This blog might offend some people but I'm going to keep it all the way real. Race DOES matter. I don't care what the media or anyone else has to say about it. Race matters in the United States. It matters a lot. People can say race is a social construct (which it is), but that doesn't change the reality that race plays a big part in everything from economics to social relationships in this country. This social construct is here and I don't see it going anywhere in my lifetime. 

In a recent blog I asked BLACK lesbians does the race of their partner matter? So far 35.29% (6 votes) have said YES, only a black woman will do. Nine people (52.94%) voted no race doesn't matter and they're opened to dating outside their race. Two people (11.76%) said they don't know. I found these results very interesting and it got me asking some questions about myself and my own personal relationships (and can view the poll HERE).

I have dated outside my race. However, black women are my preference. Even while I was dating outside my race I desired a black woman. In fact, dating non-black women only made me want a black woman more. Why? The main reason is probably due to the reality that I feel more complete with a black woman. When I was dating non-black women I felt empty as hell. The next, reason is I couldn't honestly see myself building a life with a non-black woman. I couldn't see myself having children with someone who isn't black.

One of the thoughts that crossed my mind while dating outside my race was my future. I started thinking about our children. Would they be black? Would they be white? Would we adopt one of each? Would they be biracial? In an interracial lesbian relationship there is a HUGE question mark over the race of your future children. Unlike a heterosexual interracial relationship where the parents already know how the child will be created (and the race of said child), lesbians actually have to think about these things because we cannot procreate the heterosexual way. Two lesbians of the same race probably don't think about race quite as much because they likely want a child that shares their race.

I ultimately came the decision that I don't want biracial or white kids. I want black children. There is nothing wrong with biracial or white kids, but I don't want them. One of the things that crossed my mind was legacy and generational wealth. I started worrying about passing on a legacy to my children which includes my name, my heritage and my RESOURCES. I want my children to have whatever wealth and assets I manage to accumulate in my lifetime. My house, stocks, bonds, etc should go to my children. Well, I would feel AWFUL if these children were white or even biracial. Why? Because my hard earned shit is going to find it's way to the WHITE community...the community that believes in keeping their resources in THEIR community...while fucking all other communities (people of color) in the ass. 

My situation would be just another example of black wealth leaving the black community and floating to the white community. I refuse to be apart of that issue. Some of you might ask, "Well what does it matter?" It matters a hell of a lot! Just think about it...

The black unemployment rate is the highest in this country. Black people lag behind in everything from education to median family income. We have a lot of shit in our community that needs to be fixed. Clearly we are not in a position to be throwing away our resources via interracial relationships and non-black children, who very often end up with non-black spouses themselves. Those resources should go to black descendants to help them start from a position other than the bottom, which is where most of us start.

I don't want my black children or grandchildren out begging for a minimum wage job if I have the resources to help them go to college and start a business. I want my children to climb on my back and jump over the fence I, my parents and my grandparents, couldn't jump over. Those children should NOT be white or biracial.

I know some people are thinking, "Well, even if you have black children that doesn't mean your children will have black children." This is very true. However, I happen to believe MOST black folks want a spouse and kids that look like them. So, I have faith that my children, given a sense of pride in their heritage, like me WILL seek to keep their resources in the hands of other black people when choosing a spouse. 

My older brother is co-habituating with a white chick and he has two children with her. My grandmother on my mother's side (not the one I talk about on this blog) just bought them a house because my broke ass brother couldn't afford to put a roof over his family's head. She hasn't signed the house over to him, though he wants her to do so. This is what I told my grandmother in front of my brother and his girlfriend after overhearing their conversation:

Me: If I were you I would never sign it over to him. If his babymama ever gets it in her head to leave his ass she's taking the house with her. If "insert brother's name" dies, this chick (points to white girlfriend) is walking off with the house YOU BOUGHT with YOUR hard earned money. Either way, her ass is going to get the house that you had no business buying for him in the first place. And that's just another example of black wealth ending up in white hands.

The three of them looked at me shocked, but as far as I'm concerned it's the truth. My brother's girlfriend is poor. Her family is from the trailer park (and no I'm not just saying that...she really is from the trailer park). The little house my grandmother bought for my brother probably seems like a MANSION to her and her family. So I have no doubt she would walk off with it if something ever happened to my brother or she decided to leave him.

Here is another more famous example...

Right now the media is going crazy over the Jackson family drama, which centers around Michael Jackson's white ass kids, his black immediate family and the money he left behind. A couple of days ago Katherine Jackson, Micheal's 83 year old mother, was declared missing because she took the hell off without a word. It turns out Katherine was in Arizona with her oldest daughter, Rebbie. 

I imagine Katherine probably needed a break. She probably didn't plan to raise another generation of her family. These are her twilight years. She should be off watching soap operas while waiting to die. That woman already raised her children (and probably half of her grandchildren too). On top of that she has to deal with her sorry ass good for nothing has-been sons constantly hitting her up for money. So I can understand if she's tired as hell.

Michael Jackson should have considered his mother's age when he put the burden of raising his children on her. Rebbie would have been a better choice as a caretaker. But anyway, bullshit has popped off in that family and it's mostly over money. Whoever is the guardian of the kids controls the money. As of right now temporary custody has been awarded to Tito's oldest son (?). 

All of this bullshit could have been prevented if Michael Jackson had his children within a REAL marriage to a woman he loved. People on the internet are calling his kids "test tube babies" and that's probably what they are because there is no way this man...

Race Does Matter

Created these white ass kids...

Race Does Matter

Blanket might be Hispanic (or something), but those other two are the product of two Anglo-saxons.

When these kids grow up and they inherit Michael Jackson's dough guess where it's probably going to go? 

Right back to the white community! 

Michael Jackson's self-hating ass should have thought about this nonsense when he picked the race of his kids. Some people will probably say, "Well Michael Jackson didn't care about race. Remember his song black or white?" Yeah, that's bullshit! Michael Jackson clearly had issues with his own appearance. He hated the way he looked. I won't go as far as saying he had a problem being black, but he had some serious issues with what he saw in the mirror. It is very likely he didn't want children that reflected his image (biological or not).

Already these kids are flexing their weight. The media is reporting that Janet Jackson got into with Paris (the girl in the picture)....

Our sources say at one point Janet tried to grab a resistant Paris’ cell phone, a scuffle ensued and Janet slapped the teenager, screaming, “You’re a spoiled little bitch!” We’re told Paris fired back with her own slap and told Janet, “This is our house. Not the Jackson family house. Get the f**k out!”

Now I don't know how true the above statement is (Paris has said the slap never happened), but if Paris is aware that she and her brothers own the Jackson family home this BLACK family that came from nothing (and ended up with nothing...well the boys anyway) is in trouble. Just think about that for a second. This family came for nothing. They made it to the top and came crashing back to the bottom. If that isn't bad enough, their family home--the one thing that should bring a sense of pride and accomplishment--belongs to whites.

I was under the impression that Katherine owned the home. At one point it was reported that JANET paid the mortgage on the home after Michael failed to do so. Remember Michael bought the house from Joe Jackson in the early 1980s. He had the house torn down and rebuilt. I guess the house has been in his name ever since. What the hell will become of the house once Katherine dies? Technically I guess the house belongs to Paris and her sibling...shacking my fucking head. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe this child is referring to another house. Either way it's still fucked up that these white kids are the heirs to Micheal Jackson's money and real estate.

If I made millions (or billions) of dollars selling pop music to mostly white people I sure as hell wouldn't give my money BACK to them. Michael Jackson could have adopted some BLACK kids. He could have given his money to black charities and black organizations.

If by chance I don't have any children I've already decided my assets will go to Spelman College (my alma mater if you didn't know) for the educational advancement of tomorrow's young black women. I believe giving my money to causes supporting black women will have a trickle down effect...meaning it will trickle down to the black community as a whole.

Anyway, that's my rant for today.

Tuesday, July 24, 2012

The Last Of A Dying Breed

I am convinced I'm one of the few twenty-something year old black women left in the world that can throw down in the kitchen like grandma and 'em used to do back in the day! Honestly, I can kick ass in the kitchen. However, I don't know too many twenty-something year old black women that can do it like me. Yes, some women can put together a meal using Hamburger Helper or some other "meal in a box," but these chicks cannot cook those old school Sunday, Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners like our grandmothers did back in the day. In fact, some of them can't cook at all.

Yesterday evening I cooked a hen, some butter beans with okra, cornbread and a German chocolate cake. Yellow Bone came over and she was amazed by the meal I cooked. Yellow Bone is one of those Hamburger Helper chicks. She can cook up a box of Hamburger Helper like a professional and she actually thinks she doing big things cooking it too!

Yellow Bone is from Detroit, Michigan. So she's a city girl that happened to make her way south with the REVERSED great migration (referring to the influx of Northern Blacks currently migrating to the south...a region of the country their ancestors probably deserted way back when). Like most northern black women I've met, Yellow Bone is not very domestic at all. She keeps a clean house, but cooking ain't her thing. She actually told me that she never took an interest in cooking because she always knew she was going to be a corporate business woman. 

Me: So you can't be both a domesticated woman and a corporate business woman?

My question was met with silence. 

To be fair, I felt the same way as Yellow Bone as teenager. I always thought I would be the corporate business woman too focused on education and money to take an interest in cooking. Somebody in my life set me straight: My Grandmother. 

My grandmother not only FORCED me to learn how to cook, but she taught me how to fish, hunt,  garden and sew (manually and with a sewing machine). My grandmother is truly old school. She spent the bulk of her life waiting on white folks as the help (she was a domestic). She wasn't trying to hear my shit about an education and not having time to cook. She made me sit in the kitchen and watch her cook. Once I was tall enough and old enough to stand over the stove she sat down and watched me cook. She instructed me as needed. Soon it became my responsibility to cook dinner.

Looking back now I'm grateful for my upbringing in the rural south with my grandmother. Not only am I fairly cultured but I'm also self-sufficient in my home. I actually feel sorry for some of the northern blacks I've met who are 3-4 generations removed from their southern roots. They just don't know what they're missing.

Let me make one thing clear...

I don't particularly enjoy cooking. However, I do enjoy eating! So I cook when I feel like eating good. Cooking is a good skill to have because I will never be dependent on anyone else. I just think it's really sad that the old school soul food cooking black woman is a dying breed in my generation.

Sunday, July 22, 2012

Poll For Black Lesbians: Does The Race of Your Partner Matter To You?



Tonight Yellow Bone and I had an honest conservation about race and gay folks. She knows I've dated across the rainbow. She asked me if I'm still open to the idea of dating a non-black woman (assuming I'm ever single again). My reply was YES and NO. She gave me a look before asking, "Does the race of your partner really matter to you?" 

My Answer: Yes, it matters. Black women are who I desire the most. Black women are my first, last and everything. HOWEVER,  realistically, I have to be open to all races of women because of my preferences and criteria for a partner. 

Yellow Bone:  How do you generally feel about black women and black lesbians? What attracts you to black women?

Me: Honestly, I don't find myself attracted to average looking black women. I don't know what it is but physically something about the average looking black woman in Atlanta turns me off. The women around here do a very poor job of keeping themselves up. I'm not attracted to the average looking white woman either. I don't know...I like white women that look like black women and I like black women that look like white women (with the exception of natural black hair). I'm very much conditioned by society's standards of beauty.

Yellow Bone: So you basically like biracial women?

Me: No, I basically like black women with white features (i.e., facial features) and white women with black features (dark hair, ass, curves and full lips). Attraction depends on a number of things with me. I look at the way women carry themselves. I look at their personal lives (i.e, children from previous relationships). I look at their character and values. The physical is only about 50% of the attraction for me.

Yellow Bone: And you don't find black women generally suitable?

Me: No, not those I run across here in Atlanta.  Between the weight issues, out of wedlock kids and the general lack of values I find myself put off. The older I get the more conservative I grow. Black women in Atlanta, whether straight or gay, generally don't fit my idea of wifey material. It makes me sad to say that. It's the culture so many black women subscribe to that I find off putting and unattractive. I can't even name one black female celebrity in our age group that I find attractive.

Yellow Bone: I see. What drew you to me?

Me: Your ass, face, body and the reality that you don't fit into the stereotypes that turn me away from so many black women. You take care of yourself. You are educated. You have a fun, loving and caring personality. You have great character. You don't have any kids and I am proud to have you on my arm. 

Yellow Bone: You don't feel some kind of way about your preferences? You don't feel bad about it?

Me: I used to feel bad. I still feel bad. Part of me believes my conditioning might be borderline self-hate since I'm basically admitting that I don't find west African features all that attractive on most black women. But what the hell can I do? I can't force myself to like something I've been conditioned to dislike. From the time black people arrive in this world we're force feed a Eurocentric standard of beauty...many of us carry those same features due to decades of race mixing on the part of our ancestors...we can't help the conditioning. Only the strongest of us are able to break free of it.

Yellow Bone: If you weren't with me would you be with a non-black woman?

Me: Yeah, probably! Either that or I would still be single. Like I said, my preference IS black women. But I'm only attracted to a certain caliber of black women. I like educated, classy, feminine, conservative black women who are comfortable in their own skin as black lesbians. Those women are VERY hard to come by.

My questions to you, the readers...

How important is the race of your partner to you? 

If you're only interested in black women do you fear you might not find your dream partner? 

Hit the poll for the first question and hit the comment section with your answer to the second question.

My Relationship With My Two Brothers (Part One: My Younger Brother)

My Relationship With My Two Brothers (Part One: My Little Brother)

I sometimes wish I had a better relationship with my brothers. Like my relationship with my mother (link & link) and my father (link) the relationship I have with my two brothers is distant. It leaves much to be desired. For all intensive purposes my two brothers are strangers to me. I can't tell you their favorite food, color or hobby. I can't tell you their first crush or what their goals are in life. I can't even tell you what my oldest brother does for a living because I honestly don't know. We don't talk. While I don't think my relationship with my two brothers is as sour as that of my parents, I do think it's sad as hell.

I look at both my brothers now and think "Damn who are these men? I barely know them." The only thing I know about little my brother is he's very anal about most things. I secretly believe he's autistic (?) because he compulsively stacks things and he color codes everything from his polo shirts to the cans in the cabinet at my mother's house. If something is out of order he becomes somewhat erratic. My dad is the same way, but to a lesser extent.

He is a tall good-looking brown-skinned black man. In terms of looks he favors my mother while I favor my father. His personality is a combination of both my parents. By trade he is a mechanic. However, he's expressed discontent with his occupation. He will turn 25 soon and he has never left my mother's house....not because he cannot afford it. He simply does not want to leave. He pays some of the household bills and pockets the rest of his money, which I assume he's saving for a rainy day.

My relationship with my older brother is far more complicated and problematic than the relationship I have with my younger brother so I will do a completely separate blog for him. This blog will be about my relationship with my younger brother.

My younger brother was born in 1987, exactly 2 years after I was born (1985). As stated in previous blogs my mother and father should never have had one child together let alone two. By all accounts I was the apple of my father's eye...right up until my little brother was born. My father, like most men, wanted a son. He got one with my younger brother. Once he was born my father's favoritism began. Arguably my older brother is my mother's favorite child and my youngest brother is my daddy's favorite. I was the only girl and apparently the least favorite of them all. It didn't take long for me to pick up on this new reality after my youngest brother was born. My dad didn't do anything to hide it. I grew to resent the little bastard right away. As far as I was concerned he came along and stole my glory.

I became a bully. I did everything I could to make him cry. I beat him. I tore up his toys. I tried to poison him. I pushed him down the stairs in our home. I threw things at him. I did everything I could to torture him. And everything I did ended with my father whopping my ass. After the ass whopping I would go right back to punishing my little brother. He would get his ass beat for running and telling on me.

Growing up my two brothers shared a room and as the only girl I had my own room. I was always isolated from them. The two of them bonded, while I was an outsider looking in at their relationship. When my mother left my father this isolation grew worse. From ages 12-15, I wanted nothing to do with anyone. I stayed in my room and read all the time. I was depressed as hell (I explained this period of my life in this blog). Still there are some memories from this time that I cannot forget. I often laugh about these memories when I think about them.

Once when my two brothers and I were home alone my youngest brother ran into our apartment crying because three boys stole his bike. Not only did they steal it, but they literally snatched his bicycle from him while he was standing in front of our apartment. I was 14 years old when this happened and my little brother was 12.

Me (to my little brother): So you stood there and let three motherfuckers ride off with your bike? (Yes, I actually spoke this way when adults weren't around).

Him: What was I supposed to do? There were three of them.

Me: You are a bitch ass nigga! I don't for one second believe you and I came from the same dick. There ain't no way we share the same parents. You are too much of a punk!

Him (crying): I want my bike back.

Shaking my head, I went upstairs and grabbed the wooden baseball bat I kept behind my bedroom door. I nicknamed the baseball bat my "nigga stick" because I swore if a nigga ever broke into our apartment while I was home that nigga was going to get beat with that stick!

Nigga stick in hand, my little brother and I set off to find the punks that stole his bike. We didn't have to search far. The three boys lived in the same apartment complex. I walked right up to the three boys with my brother right behind me. I demand they give my brother's bike back. The boy holding the bike was a big fat ass biggie smalls looking nigga. He had to be about 12 or 13. He was obviously the leader of their little clique because the other two boys let him do all the talking. They just stood back and watched.

Fat ass: This my bike now!

Me: The hell it is! Give my brother back his bike.

Fat ass: Or what? You ain't gon do shit!

Me: I'm going to beat your motherfucking ass!

Fat ass: You ain't gon do shit! Bitch I'll go get my sister. She'll stomp your ass.

After he said that I lifted my nigga stick and began swinging on his ass. I swung that baseball bat as hard as I could right into the pit of his stomach. That fat bastard bent over, clutched his stomach and fell to the ground crying. His two friends took off running. They left him!

Me (to my brother): Get your bike!

Scared (as usual), my brother grabbed his bike.

Me (to the fat ass kid): If you come near my brother or his bike again I swear to God I will aim this bat right between your legs next time.

And with that we went back to our apartment. My brother never had a problem out of those boys again.

I don't want y'all to think I was a violent child ready and willing to kick ass at any moment. It wasn't like that at all. One thing my parents did right is they taught us to stand up for each other. They flat out told me and my brothers if we stood by and let someone beat up on one of our siblings we would get our ass beat when we got home. Even today, we might fight like cats and dogs, but when push comes to shove we got each other's back. I might not get along with my brothers but I will put a hurting on anyone that fucks with my family.

Also, please remember I wasn't in the right frame of mind during this time. Again read this blog. With so much shit going on at home, I didn't have the patience for some random fat ass kid bullying my punk ass brother. I took my frustrations out on that kid. His fat ass felt the full force of my rage that day.

Anyway, when I turned 15 I decided to move out of my mother's house. I jumped ship. I moved in my grandmother. I wasn't around my two brothers when they began dating and maturing into men. And they weren't around when I began blossoming into a woman. We barely saw each other and we barely talked on the phone. We attended different high schools. I rarely visited my mother. The only time I saw my little brother once he became a teenager is when he came to visit our dad.

Eventually I left our little country town and moved to Atlanta where I went to college. The summer of my Junior year of college I went home to discover that my little brother was on his way to becoming a father. He and his girlfriend were expecting a little girl. To my surprise both my mother and father seemed HAPPY about the prospect of my 19 year old brother becoming a father. However, God had other plans.

Not too long after I arrived home his girlfriend called to tell him that she was on her way to the hospital because she was bleeding. When my mother, brother and I arrived at the hospital we were told she lost the baby. Vanessa (the name she and my brother gave the child) was killed after she was strangled by the umbilical cord. The baby must have accidentally twisted herself up in the umbilical cord.

Upon learning this news my brother broke down crying. He wasn't just crying he was sobbing. It was the first time I actually felt sorry for him. Overcome with emotion, I started crying too. It was one of the most painful moments of my life. Somewhere in Americus, Georgia (his ex-girlfriend's hometown) is Vanessa's grave. My brother has never seen it. I think he prefers to keep it that way.

Today, as adults, there is no love lost between my little brother and I. However, I think we've reached an understanding: I stay out of his way and he stays out of mine. Like I said, I wish things weren't this way, but I think this is something that should have been fixed by our parents years ago when were children. They were too busy fighting each other to notice their children were following in their footsteps.

Friday, July 20, 2012

Black Lesbians In Atlanta Leave Much To Be Desired


Black lesbians in Atlanta leave much to be desired. Their short-comings are so vast and so overwhelming it's not even funny. It is annoying as fuck because MOST of the black people I run across are NOT from Atlanta. Usually they relocated to Atlanta from some other state. Given this realization one is left to wonder if black lesbians in general are fucked up?

I desire to meet and befriend other classy attractive childless educated feminine black lesbians in Atlanta. I don't know where the hell this group of women is but I sure as hell don't run across them in my everyday life.  Are they invisible??? Where do they socialize???

I run across black lesbians that fit into the following categories:
  1. Hoodrats
  2. Uneducated chicks (both studs and fems) with excessive baggage
  3. Fat/obese hoodrats
  4. Fat/obese uneducated studs
  5. Fat/obese uneducated single mothers (who often double as hoodrats)
  6. In shape single mothers who nobody in their right mind would seek to befriend because of their baggage.
  7. Confused chicks/bisexuals (who are also often fat/obese hoodrats)
  8. Ugly ass weird looking studs
  9. Unhinged/crazy bitches traumatized by something from their past.
I think you get the picture. The most stereotypical black lesbians can be found right here in Atlanta and I feel like an oddball! I cannot relate to these people. The image they portray (straight hood) and their overall ignorance is a TURN OFF. 

I want to meet some black lesbians that READ! I want to meet some black lesbians that are educated, seeking an education and can carry an intelligent stimulating conversation. I'm so thirsty for women like this (friendship only) that I give my number to random strangers I've met either through this blog or through my STRAIGHT friends.

I know there are several people from the ATLANTA area that read this blog. I know this because I can see where you're coming from on my blog feeds. If you have any suggestions as to where I can meet some CLASSY, EDUCATED, CHILDLESS FEMININE BLACK LESBIANS drop me a comment or EMAIL me.

Curious minds want to know: Where the hell are these women???

PLEASE READ: Three Ways To Overcome Penis Envy!

3 Ways To Overcome Penis Envy

Seven years ago, when I was just an arrogant 20 year old college student, I began working on a story about a man married to three women at the same time (no it's not inspired by that movie starring Halle Berry and company). At the time I envisioned a story about three women who befriend each other after finding out about each other. Soon after the man, a rich millionaire, goes missing...thanks to the three women. The story I had in mind resembled something like this.....

 

 

Except this isn't a case of a rapist being tortured. Instead it's a story about three pissed off wives teaming up and teaching a cheating dog a lesson.

The three women get together, find the bastard, and fuck him up. They torture his ass. This is especially true for the first wife. She let's him have it! There is only one problem with this story....

I didn't get this far in writing it.

It's completely written in my head, but I stopped working on the story because as a 20 year and NOW as a 27 year old I consider it TRASH....a sub-par representation of what I can REALLY write. This is that TRASHY fiction I hate writing now because I have grown as an individual. I have experienced a great deal of personal growth. I understand the world better as a 27 year old than I did as a 20 year old. Not to mention my character development and plot/ideas are far more superior now than they were 7 years ago.

Today I was looking through some files on my computer when I ran across that story. I can barely read it without cringing. The draft I have is a VERY VERY VERY ROUGH FIRST DRAFT.

It is typo ridden.
The grammar is horrible.
The actual formatting is terrible.

Still, I can't help but wonder if people would find this story interesting. With that said I am posting a link to Penis Envy on this blog. I would like YOU, the readers of this blog, to read that story and tell me if it's something worth finishing.

And you can be honest. You won't hurt my feelings. I'm my biggest critic anyway.

The title of the story is Three Ways To Overcome Penis Envy and here is the LINK.

P.S. I hope the watermark isn't too much of a distraction. Trash or not, I believe in protecting my work.


Wednesday, July 18, 2012

LezIntellect, The Business Woman? Maybe!

This Chick Is NOT ME!
For as long as I can remember I have wanted to start a business. I was never quite sure what type of business I wanted to start. I believe for black people the question what type of business do I want to start is a hard one to answer? Why? Because black people, collectively, don't support black businesses. If you are black and thinking of starting a business you need to start one that doesn't cater to JUST black people. 

It is really sad things have to be that way, but it's the truth. The ONLY black businesses that really get any support from black people in this country are...
  1. The beauty shop & barber shop.
  2. The club (strip clubs, dance clubs etc).
  3. The funeral home (probably the most profitable business of the three). 
  4. Independent music labels or entertainment entrepreneurs period (i.e, Tyler Perry & Company)...though there is an exception to this one. Unless you're writing urban/hood life novels chances are your books don't sell as well with black folks.
If you're not fucking with one of those four you get no love from black folks. 

There was a time when we owned banks, newspapers, grocery stores, gas stations, farms, etc. Those days are a thing of the past. For the most part the black race is a consumer race....not a producer race.  And we are paying the price for it (i.e., our unemployment rate).

Again, the shit is sad. 

So you can probably understand why I don't jump at the opportunity to start a business catering solely to black people. Black people probably won't support it and because of widespread racism "others" might not support it either.

What type of business was I thinking of starting?

For a while I thought about going to mortuary school and opening up a funeral home. This is one business in the black community that will never go out of business. The way niggas are killing each other in Chicago and New Orleans I could make a fortune if I put my funeral home right in the heart of the ghetto in one of those cities. 

It's also unlikely that niggas will rob the funeral home because funeral homes typically freak people out. This is the only business that is SAFE in the hood. It's the only business (along with beauty and barbershops) that I believe can thrive in the hood or a predominately black community. 

Funeral homes are typically passed down through generations. Every black funeral home I know is named Somebody & Son. That means somebody, usually the patriarch of the family, started a funeral home and it's run by him and his sons. 

My future children can inherit the family funeral home and build a rich lasting history. They can pass it on to their children and so on. So, black funeral homes are good business in my opinion. However, a black funeral home is not exactly my first choice of a business. 

I would like to become a publisher. 

I would like to create a publishing company and publish the works of authors. Because I believe e-books are taking over the publishing world (relax hard copy books will ALWAYS be around and a lot of people still prefer hard copy books....including me). I think this is an inexpensive business opportunity for me. Think of it like a rapper starting a hip hop label. He doesn't just want to publish himself. Chances are he wants to bring others in on his label. Well, I want to do the same thing but with e-books and authors.

So what's stopping me?

Well, I'm like a lot of black folks. I have a good idea and the resources to put behind it but I lack direction. I don't know where to begin. I fear I might fuck up and have the IRS on my ass for tax evasion. Basically, I'm not educated enough to start a business. I don't want to enroll in any business management class because this is something that I believe I need to learn hands on. I'm not sure if I should shadow a publisher or what. 

And in case you were wondering, I would like to be a mainstream publisher with a wide variety of authors...not one that is genre or audience specific. I've been looking at models of e-book imprints and I'm really digging this one.

We will have to wait and see what happens with this idea. I will say this much: I'm tired of working for someone else and barely getting by. I cannot imagine doing this shit for the rest of my life so I know I need to put in some work FAST.

Damn If This Chick Doesn't Make Me Horny!


Okay physically this woman is not my type BUT she has some nice breast and a sexy voice. On top of that she obviously knows how to eat the box. There is nothing like getting some head from a chick who has MASTERED it. I would definitely fuck her. Whenever I watch her videos I get unbelievably horny and wet. Yellow Bone is asleep beside me right now. I'm trying to resist the urge to wake her up. I shouldn't have watched this video!

Tuesday, July 17, 2012

Cherry Hills Is In The Works!


I just copyrighted the novel that's been consuming my time for last eight months. Now I can focus my full attention on Cherry Hills. For those of you who don't know what Cherry Hills is CLICK HERE

I'm taking a brief break because my imagination needs some rest, but I plan to hit the ground running with Cherry Hills this week.

It is a special "pet" project...a test of sorts. I want to see how well good quality black lesbian fiction goes over with the masses. So expect to hear from me soon.

Monday, July 16, 2012

I Gave Yellow Bone The Ring!

I Gave Yellow Bone The Ring
I gave Yellow Bone the ring. 
She gave me some pussy. 
She cried. 
I cried. 
We cried together. 
After the crying was done we made a vow to always be one. 
So we're going to be like Keith Sweat and make it last FOREVER!

**P.S. Poetry ain't my thang.

Saturday, July 14, 2012

Top Ten Reasons Why I Never Called You Back

Top Ten Reasons Why I Never Called You Back

There have been several women who have told me that I have a way of casually walking into people's lives and leaving the same way I came. One minute the two of us could be the best of friends (and potential lovers) and the next minute I am no where to be found. This happened a lot in my early twenties/college years. There were a lot of women that entered my life during this period, but they quickly found themselves getting my voicemail for a variety of reasons. Why? Let me count the reasons....

***Warning some items on this list might seem superficial, but I'm just being honest. This list is not in any particular order.***

Top Ten Reasons Why I Never Called You Back

1). Your Pussy Skank: I can't stand a woman that doesn't take care of herself. I've met chicks who looked damn good in the club, but two days later when we met up outside of the club they looked like crackheads. I mean the weave was twisted, their lips were chapped, skin was ashy as hell, face looked like they just had a stroke, clothes were wrinkled and unkempt and their breath was kicking from cigarettes and weed. 

One thing I'm sure of is this: If a woman fails to take care of her physical appearance you can bet she ain't taking care of her pussy/feminine hygiene either. Nasty!


2). You Had Roaches In Your Crib: This ranks right up there with number one. If I come over to your place and it's nasty as hell I'm not coming back. I'm not exactly a neat freak but I was raised to keep a clean house. I can remember going over to one woman's house and seeing the motherfucking roaches coming out of her stove. I stopped talking to that woman the same damn day. Nasty!


3). You Are Masculine/Lacking Femininity: If I wanted a man I would be with one. If you have too much bass in your voice or just sound like a nigga chances are you won't see or hear from me again. If you physically look like a man or a little boy we don't have a thing to talk about. I like feminine women. Tomboys might get a pass depending on how they working it, but studs and straight up aggressive chicks get no love from me.

Top Ten Reasons Why I Never Called You Back

4). Your Ass Got Kids: I don't want a woman with a ready-made family. I don't care what your story is or how you got them. The reality is those motherfuckers are yours and yours alone. I'm not about to rearrange my life and future plans (i.e., the size of any future property I buy) to accommodate you and Tyrone's kids. Sorry...this shit ain't happening...

Top Ten Reasons Why I Never Called You Back

5). You Are A Hoe: It's amazing to me how many women have slept around like there is no tomorrow, but don't consider themselves promiscuous hoes. I can count the number of women I've slept with on one hand. For some women it would take about fifteen hands for them to count all their sexual escapades (that's if they know that number at all). I had a woman, claiming to be a lesbian, tell me she slept with 25 MEN before the age of 15. Where I'm from that's called a WHORE. I don't care how good you look...if you've been around the block and back your trick ass can keep it moving. I don't want some chick that's been the cum dumpster for several happy niggas.

Top Ten Reasons Why I Never Called You Back
6). You're A Hoodrat: If you're sitting around bragging about how much you get every month in foodstamps (true story) while walking around with expensive multicolored weave flowing down your back you are a fucking hoodrat! This coupled with a body full of tattoos (some of which are the names of your dead baby daddies), ebonic plagued speech, and ratchet behavior (sticking your cell phone in your bra and digging for that shit in front of people, yelling at librarians about your fines because you decided to keep that library book three years back, and blaming society when your welfare benefits are cut off) are a TURN OFF. You might fool the hell out of my ass in the dim lights of a club, where your phat ass resembles that of any video vixen, but please believe common sense prevails the next day once the lights are on!

Top Ten Reasons Why I Never Called You Back

7). You're Actually Bisexual: This goes without saying. I would never knowingly date a bisexual. So if later on down the line I begin to suspect you like the dick it's game over. I cannot be with a chick that likes men. I am a homosexual and I prefer another homosexual. 

Top Ten Reasons Why I Never Called You Back

8). You Lack Goals And Ambition: There ain't nothing like a black woman with a brain that can give some brain! I like a chick with a mind of her own who can hold her own against my intelligent ass. I'm out here trying to get my weight up. I have two degrees. That means you need to be on the same page as me. If you're 28 years old and just deciding to pursue some type of higher education we can't be together. I'm all for people getting any education no matter their age, but I desire someone who is on the same page as me. My mate needs to have herself together or be in the process (as in almost there...finishing graduate school, law school, whatever) of getting herself together.

Top Ten Reasons Why I Never Called You Back

9). Your Ass & Titties Weren't Big Enough: I like booty and I like titties. I need something to grab on. If you are skinny as hell we can't do business. I don't want a stick. I don't want a woman with a body of a little girl (or a little boy for that matter). I don't want an obese/fat chick either. I desire a woman with the infamous coke bottle shape. Maybe it's because I'm from the south or maybe it's because I've spent too much time in Magic City strip club, but I like a phat ass, slim waist and some big titties. A woman with a flawless coke bottle shape and a beautiful face is my idea of a beautiful woman. In college I once dated a woman who was skinny as hell. I remember one day she and I cuddled up on her couch to watch TV. I put my hand on her ass and I said, "Damn...I don't have anything to grab on...all I feel is a bone!" She was embarrassed, but I was being honest. 


10). I Wasn't Really Interested In You To Begin With: If I never called you back or simply fell out of your life the truth of the matter is I was probably never interested in you to be begin with. Most of the women who have entered my life approached me...not the other way around. So if I just stopped picking up the phone or never called you back it's because I wasn't really feeling you.

Friday, July 13, 2012

A Cute Moment Between Yellow Bone & Me


Late last night I was sitting at my desktop computer when Yellow Bone decided to park her naked ass on my desk in front of me. My desk is big, wide and flat so it had no problem holding her weight along with all the other things on it. 

Yellow Bone loves to walk around in the nude. When she's at home or at my place she doesn't like to wear clothes. I'm fine with this arrangement because that means I don't have to take off any of her clothes when our flirting turns to fucking (as it usually does). 

Anyway, I'm on my computer responding to some emails when Yellow Bone comes up behind me and then parks herself on my desk. She parks herself right in front of me--successfully blocking my view of my computer screen. She puts one leg on the left armrest of my office chair and the other leg on the opposite armrest so that I have a wide open view of her pretty inviting pussy. 

She smiles at me after she catches me looking. She playfully begins fingering herself.

Me (returning her smile): Don't start nothing you can't finish.

Yellow Bone: Who said I can't finish?

Me: (Chuckling)

Yellow Bone: Baby?

Me (Still Chucking): Yes?

Yellow Bone: I think my breast are getting bigger.

I stare at her for a minute, trying to decide if she's serious. Yellow Bone has the most prefect breast I've ever seen on a woman. They are not too big and they are not too small. They are perky. They are perfect. 

Me: Are you serious?

Yellow Bone: Yes, I'm serious. I think my breast are getting bigger.

Me: We'll let me see. 

I stand up and reach for her breast. I playfully rub her nipples before leaning forward to suck first her left breast and then her right breast. 

I suck on each breast for about 20 seconds. 

I purposely pause, nipple in mouth, whenever she moans. 

Done teasing her, I take a step back and frown...as if something is actually bothering me.

Yellow Bone (perplexed): What?

Me: You know...I think...

Yellow Bone: What???

Yellow Bone is looking worried at this point.

Me: I THINK YOUR DAMN BREAST ARE FINE....CRAZY SEXY ASS...NOW CAN I HAVE MY DESK BACK?

We both burst into laughter. 

I retake my seat at my desk and Yellow Bone playfully wraps her legs around me.

Yellow Bone: You are so lucky I love you...

Thursday, July 12, 2012

I'm Thinking About Attending Law School



I never thought I would say this, but I'm actually thinking about attending law school. If you've been paying attention, you should know I swore off law school after undergrad (though I graduated pre-law) and opted to get my Masters degree instead. When I received my Masters degree I swore off anymore school. I swore I was never going back. So what changed my mind?
  1. I'm not happy with my employment situation. I'm not hurting for money at the moment but if I ever hope to have a family I need MORE than what I'm bringing to the table. I can expect to make about 52k a year in my field, but that depends on my location. 
  2. Being a struggling writer is cool for just me, but it's not okay for my future family. Writing is my side hustle. It is a hobby that hasn't taken off yet.
  3. I'm not getting any younger. Yellow Bone (who also wants a family) told me if I'm ever planning to attend law school I need to make it happen now.
I'm going to take the LSAT and I'm going to apply to a few law schools in Georgia. If I don't receive a full paid scholarship I'm not going. I refuse to get into anymore student loan debt. The ONLY way I will attend law school is if everything is covered. 

To be continued...

Wednesday, July 11, 2012

Frank Ocean's Sexuality

Frank Ocean's Sexuality

Okay let me first say I don't give a damn about Frank Ocean. The black blogosphere has been burning up with this story about him coming out the closet as bisexual or gay. This is significant because he is the first mainstream hip hop/R&B artist to make such a confession. Very few black celebrities have openly broadcasted their sexuality to the world. Frank Ocean broke a taboo in the hip hop world: He admitted he likes men.

I'm not a fan of Frank Ocean or any other modern day black "entertainer" (I use the word loosely because I don't see anything entertaining about most of them). When I first heard he came out the closet I thought, "Good for him." That was it. I put the whole thing out of my mind.

If you read this blog you know I don't have a favorable opinion of gay black men. I stir clear of them here in Atlanta because they are so annoyingly flamboyant, feminine and "extra" that it's hard for me to even respect them. So, when Frank Ocean decided to tell the world he likes men (via a blog) I didn't blink an eye...that was until TODAY...

Because I'm not really familiar with Frank Ocean's music I had to look him up on Youtube and this is what I found...


Houston we have a motherfucking problem!

The imaginary in Frank Ocean's videos and the lyrics in his songs show someone who has clearly been living a lie and deceiving WOMEN...and you can bet MOST of those women have probably been black.

From my understanding Frank Ocean is one of those individuals who bragged about his sexual conquest with WOMEN on his twitter account. How many of those women do you think he told about his taste for semen? How many of those women do you think knew about his sexuality? How many of those women were given the option of saying "Hell fucking naw" when faced with the reality of his sexuality?

My guess: NONE.

I don't care how famous you are or how much money you have, black women as a whole aren't into screwing men who screw other men....and that is their RIGHT. They should have the option of opting out of sexual relations with MEN who are BISEXUAL and GAY. By lying to them or simply not telling them the whole truth...gay and bisexual black men deny black women that right.

I have a problem with down low niggas. Like their down low black female counterparts I consider them cowards. These men fuck all the men they want without regard to their sexual health then they turn around and pass their diseases to unsuspecting black women. They would rather put someone's life in danger than confront the world with their truth. It is selfish as hell!

Next thing we know the black community is hit with documentaries like this....
 

This is ONE of the main reasons gay black men are so hated in the black community.

ALL gay black men aren't the problem. The problem is the gay/bisexual black men who DECEIVE the women in their lives.

If you are on the down low why isn't it possible to just stay on one side of the tracks and live your life in the closet??? If Frank Ocean is gay why not be COMPLETELY gay on the down low? Why sleep with black women? If Frank Ocean is bisexual why not have enough respect for black women to tell them the truth about his sexuality and let them decide whether or not they want any part of him?

Tuesday, July 10, 2012

This Song Is For You....


This song is for the woman from my past who decided to call me up and confess her love AFTER she found out I'm happy with someone else....too little...too late baby.....

Sunday, July 8, 2012

Ask Me Anything You Want Anonymously!

 
I added a formspring to my blog. You can find my formspring in the sidebar to the right on this blog.

Formspring is a social network used to ask and answer questions. Questions from users can be asked completely anonymously. Formspring is beneficial to those of you who are interested in something you read here but are afraid to ask via email or through the comment section. Your private information is completely protected. The only time I see your information is if you also have a public Formspring account.

You don't have to create an account to ask me a question. You simply type your question in the box and wait for me to answer it. To keep track of your questions and my answers you might want to bookmark my formspring page

Users can follow my formspring and answer questions too. I can even pose questions to followers of my formspring (to answer a question I think you need an account). Those questions will appear in the other formspring widget on this blog.

Anyway, I think this is a cool feature for a blog. Try it out.

Saturday, July 7, 2012

My Relationship With My Father


The thought occurred to me recently that my low opinion of black men might be due in large part to the contempt I hold for my own father.  

The relationship I have with my father is complicated. I get along with my father far better than I do my mother. Our relationship is healthier than the relationship I have with my mother. Physically I am the female version of my father. The only difference is he's a dark-skinned black man while I'm a light-skinned black woman. 

My father has been in my life from day one. He provided for me when he was able (and to this day I have no idea where he got the money). He worries about me when I'm ill. He helped put me through college. He has always been there for all the significant events in my life (graduation, first time riding my bike without training wheels, kindergarten etc). If I ever needed something my father always made an effort to get it for me. When I took an interest in playing piano and then saxophone my father bought me one of each. In general I think my father has made a decent effort to be a good daddy.

Still there is one thing about my father that I hate so much that it overshadows most of the good things he's brought to my life...

I resent my father because he is a stupid man...literally. 

My father is street smart and he has plenty of common sense. However, he lacks book sense and a proper moral compass. He is probably what a lot of young black men in this country will be in 30 plus years when they reach his age. When he was younger he was them (albeit a 1970s version).

After years of denial I can honestly admit that to myself. 

My father doesn't know how to write a check or how to balance a checkbook. While he can read and write, he doesn't do either very well (believe it or not my father actually taught me how to read). Growing up I never saw my father strive to achieve anything. He never had any goals to be anything. He didn't have a career. He worked a series of dead end jobs before becoming a truck driver and eventually he fucked that up too. He never truly wanted to work and he was content to let my mother be the bread winner of the family. I don't know where my father got money because the man I saw growing up was nothing short of a lazy uneducated moocher. 

My mother once told me it took my father 20 years to get his G.E.D. I know he quit school early and joined the army. He was a failure in the army too. After he served his time he moved back to Georgia and into my grandmother's house. He would later blame the army for making him abusive towards my older brother (bullshit if I've ever heard it). My father was living with my grandmother when he met and impregnated my teenage mother. 

The most noble thing I ever heard from my father came when he told me that he only married my mother because he didn't want another man over his kids. Physically he wanted to be there for me and my little brother. Financially he made a decent effort...though again he hated to work. Emotionally my father left much to be desired.

The only time I ever saw my father show an interest in doing anything with his life is when some stupid get rich quick scheme came across the television. For years he spent thousands of dollars on crap he ordered off television with the intent of becoming an overnight millionaire. As a resentful teenager I watched him spend five thousand dollars on vending machines that are ILLEGAL in the state of Georgia (they are considered gambling in Georgia). This pissed me off so much that I boldly called my father a complete failure to his face. 

My father was very hurt by my words. I think he might have cried about it. Though I felt guilty about saying it, I meant what I said. My father embarrassed me because he never lived up to my expectations. He embarrassed me because he never lived up to my expectations of what a man is supposed to be.

Growing up I watched him beat the hell out of my older brother, mistreat me at times and baby my younger brother. I watched him cheat on my mother with several women. I watched him selfishly spend money on cars, clothes and general bullshit when that money could have been used for something better. When my mother left him she took everything in the house because she paid for it all.

I grew to resent him for his short-comings as a man, and secretly I couldn't help but feel cheated in some way. I felt equally as cheated with my mother, but my grandmother was there to soften the blow. With my father there wasn't another black man to step in and compensate. I never knew either of my grandfathers. My father was the only black man in my life of any significance who could have shown me a positive black man and he failed.

My Epic Novel


Tonight I spent two hours talking to one of my mentors (a writer and playwright herself) about Keepers Of The Race (still a working titled), the novel I personally believe is going to be my great epic. It is going to be my Roots, my Gone With The Wind...it's going to be the novel that puts me on the map!

This novel is so deep and so profound that my mentor, who has been in the business for years, found herself struck by its depth (and probably surprised at it's length...the first chapter is 80 pages single spaced). She was just as excited as I was about it. She and I went back and forth about the story and all the social dynamics in the story. This story has everything. It has sexism, racism, colorism, and classism. It is controversial. It is thought-provoking. It is going to piss some people off and create dialogue...not only in the black community but in America period.

I'm so excited. I'm so thrilled because I feel like I've finally found my voice. After years of struggling, literally crying tears of pain because at one point I lost all hope for a career as a writer, I have finally found my way. I'm so happy right now.

***This novel is part of the reason I had to take a step back from Cherry Hills. I am not capable of focusing on more than one project at a time. But Cherry Hills is coming along nicely.
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