Sexual Seducation

why go to college for human sexuality when i can just have sex and take notes?

i am not a skank, a ho, nor a slut. i am not a hoochie, a bitch, a cumbag, or sleeze. i am not a freak, fast, or easy. i am nothing less than a goddess.

my best friend and a lady who sounds like warm chocolate, prefer to go through the hassle of befriending the men they desire to slap stomachs with. i respect it. yet i am confused. is one approach to sex more deserving of respect than the other? in what constitution is it written that a woman be worth the amount of times she has not had sex? and if there were some written document that validates such a preposterous proposal, then how long is this culture going to live without demanding a male equivalent?

nevermind answering the latter. it is absurd to judge a woman’s character based on the number of times she chooses to open and close her legs. whether her legs are revolving doors, or bolted down, it ought to be recognized that a woman’s sexuality is just one facet of her intricate construction. how come her morality isn’t scribbled over with the same question marks when she unwillingly stays at home to look after the children while her husband is toiling away at work?

as a young lady, i grew up with my legs pasted shut. mainly because an elder woman-usually a mother, grandmother or auntie- told me to do so. asking “why” tended to result in me icing my cheek. if my lips even thought of formulating a question, my mom would stare me down as if her rent depended on it.

that still didn’t stop me from wondering. a few years later, after having upgraded from chapstick to extra shiny lipgloss, i felt old enough and more mature to reassert myself. “so why do i need to wait three to six months before giving it up?”

the answer lies in the question. maybe if a woman’s role in sex wasn’t so vastly described as “giving it up”, then she would be perceived more as a qualified participant as opposed to a passive donor. when the woman is assumed to be morally equal to the man, her wait time need not be correlated to her overall worth. think about it, when was the last time you left the dmv overjoyed because you had to wait forever just to get your picture taken?

despite the dmv comparison, too often do i hear the following:

“you want a man to respect you. if you have sex too soon, he’ll think you’re a [insert slut, ho, skank, or any other term that signifies less than a goddess].”

and my reply is:
‘well, what if i don’t care what a man thinketh?”

i mean after all, i don’t recall any of my homeboys coming to me in tears because their friends reprimanded them for having lost count of the women they’ve slept with.

it’s 2009 and i am a woman in a country that is slowly becoming aware of the woman’s right to sexually assert herself. i am placing my feet in the wet concrete of a growing discourse on women and sex hoping to leave an indelible print.

for the past year, i’ve been treating my sex life like a college course in human sexuality. i have researched, been popped quizzed, and failed at many a midterms. nonetheless, i continue to read and write as a means to evolve into a more mature sexual being. i’ve read books on love versus lust, polyamory versus monogamy, the tao of sexology, etc. more times than not, i’ve come across books authored by men (suspiciously “ghost-written” by women) about how to find and keep a man. and, more times than not, my head nearly explodes from being filled to the brim with “advice” on how to play the game of patriarchy, and call that being endlessly in love. wamp wamp.

i’ve been copiously taking mental notes and figured that it’s about time i write down my own opinions. stay tuned….

(Self) Love Lock-Down

So as an African American woman with locs, who burns incense and occasionally eats Tofu, I’m supposed to know everything there is to know about self love, so I’m told. I’m supposed to shower myself with hugs and prayers, affirmations and cast away doubt with spirit fingers right?

No.

I’m actually temporarily challenged in this area. And without getting into the specifics (because I don’t need all-a-yall knowing my personals…and more so I don’t want you to see how unnecessary some of my internal rants can be), I’d like for you to play Dr. and prescribe some antidotes for what I’m officially calling, the self love lock down. (P.s. please spare the hug yourself speeches…hugging yourself is not fun. At all.)

…ten minutes later….

I actually did try hugging myself, just to make sure I wasn’t impulsively refuting an idea.

And it was kind of whack.

However, I did discover that I can give myself some pretty darned good ribcage massages.

I still want your antidotes.

Go!

Fashionable Fundraising

So, just in case you missed my last blog about the FLOW Scholarship, I’m writing another one.

But before I start, let me ask you something: what was the last thing you spent money on?
If you are anything like me, then you spent twenty dollars on half a tank of gas.
(I would hope that unlike me, you own a car that will get you a little more mileage for your buck.)

But this is all beside the point. The point is: I am asking that you shuffle a couple of those dollars from your I -need-gas fund on over to the FLOW Scholarship fund.
If donating to www.firstgiving.org/flowscholarship is not particularly your style, then I encourage to visit www.freelivingourway.ecrater.com,

Flow Tunic::Baby Blue

This way, you can contribute to a worthy cause and look fashionable as a result. 

This scholarship was created so that students interested in studying abroad may do so without busting a sweat about how to obtain the necessary funding. In a nutshell, I just want to make study abroad a bit easier for those who think it’s hard. That’s it, that’s all.

Death of Auto-Tune

So, last night, I gave in to cable and decided to watch a bit of the BET Awards. It wasn’t going so bad, until I saw what looked like four 12-14 year old girls shaking what they they thought was their “ass” to the tune of Drake and Lil Wayne’s duo “…I just wanna f**k every girl in the world…”.

:pause:

Are you serious?

In my last blog, I spoke about artists and accountability.

Lately, I’ve been checking myself because too often, I deride the artists I personally know, while at the same time giving the Lil Waynes hallway passes because of their ability to put together a nice metaphor.
Who will hold Lil’ Wayne accountable for his actions? Did anyone perceive these young girls being on stage as a problem to begin with? Well I did, and in protest, left the room.

I didn’t come back until I heard Janet’s voice. At this point I became consumed by everybody else’s pain regarding M.J.’s death and started to cry.

After the BET show, Jay-Z’s video came on, “Death of Auto-tune”, and is he not smashing?

The God of R&B/Pop/Everything Else passes on and Jay-Z performs a song in which he scorns rappers whose careers are dependent upon superficial reconstructions of their voices and existences.

Can I guide you to the link between MJ and Jay-Z’s “Death of Auto-Tune”?

MJ set standards. He introduced choreography that the entire world rehearsed after work. He made glitter popular. He wrote songs that my great grandchildren will most likely recite verbatim. He did not make an entire album in auto-tune. He did not talk about how hood he was. Nor did he talk about how much ass he had, or was going to get after the club.

Michael Jackson was universally appealing because of his ability to express his individuality. Jerry-curl, white glove, nose job and all. We still loved him because in the sharing of his life, we gained the inspiration to be confident in our own creative expression.

How many (hip-hop) artist are in the business of traversing M.J.’s path so as to establish a legacy that’s founded upon the pure genius of spirit?

I’m pretty sure you know the answer. And if you need a little bit of consolation, check out Jay-Z’s video “Death of Auto-tune”. You are not alone.

Message in a bottle..an unshapely question mark.

We all know someone who is a fighter, revolutionary, down for the people, (hella hella fine), conscious, poet, word smith, progressive, anti-establishment, some-kind-of-vegetarian extract.

Yes?
Yes.

I know someone who is all of the above and simultaneously the polar opposite. I used to get angry at the mention of his name, but find it more worth my while to speak a quiet prayer. I am also learning to separate the messenger from the message. However, in attempting to do so, I am pitted against myself. Part of me wants to utilize the principle of love, while my other half wants to utilize the principle of accountability. How much longer will we continue to celebrate the message whilst overlooking, for lack of a better word, the shystie-ness of the messenger?

See, I know a messenger. He hands out telegrams of beauty to young girls struggling with self esteem. He mails shooting stars to young boys who no longer believe in the goodness of life. He sprinkles love letters on tombstones and strings stanzas of waist beads around the hips of puberty. His messages are collectibles. Vintage notes that you already know because you’ve written them in a previous existence. I know a messenger who scribes verses on the backs of the enslaved so that they can inspire the people who come after them. I know a messenger whose uniform is impeccably flawless.

On the other hand, I know a messenger who does not take time to heal himself. Who does not utilize the same ointment he prescribes to others. Who celebrates his individual, yet chastises the community. I know a messenger who doesn’t mind a woman being everything for him until she’s nothing for herself. Who soaks up admiration, yet is dry as a rock when it’s time to become vulnerable. I know a messenger whose words replace the whip. I know a messenger who knows himself well enough to affect others but has yet to produce a change within himself.

I know this messenger. You do too. The messenger has been me and is sometimes you.

(…Okay that last line was kinda cheesy. But the cadence was quite lovely if I don’t say so myself.)

Nonetheless, I pose this question:

Is the message real if the messenger isn’t?

We want to leave the country TOO!!

Alright folks. I’ve already been at you about fundraising for the FLOW Scholarship, and I’m at it again. I’m in high gear this time around and trusting that my tenacity finds its way to your sofa cushions, back pockets, and shall we not forget, the oh-so-generous-checkbook.

Above is a pretty good looking badge that you can click on and let guide you to a webpage, of which you can make a secure online donation.

I appreciate your love and support. Muah!

Alignment

The Universe is like a gigantic desktop printer. It produces an exact replica of whatever is on our monitor or mind. If my ink, or my thoughts are not in alignment with spirit, then I will send a difficult message to the Universe, which in turn produces a difficult outlook, literally. If my ink is aligned and in tune with purpose, the Universe prints me a divine reflection of my thoughts.

I’m aligning my thoughts with the divine spirit within so as to produce a perfect picture.

(What does alignment mean to you?)

Where do i go from here?

I went to Los Angeles over the weekend and was shocked at how my usually talkative self went mute. It’s not unusual that I spend time in my head, but these past few days, I’ve been camping out.

I was wondering a lot about infrastructure….yes, big word. I know.
I want a house (a big one), a car ( a shiny one, with no dents), a husband (a cute one) and a coupla children (good ones). I just found out that all of these things won’t magically appear, so I’ve been looking for a meaningful job(s).

I do the whole rapper as poet and back to rapper thing and am planning on making money from it. In the meantime, I teach. Nowhere in my equation do I plan on being broke. Nope.

So while in Los Angeles, I thought plenty about my art, my teaching, and the rich people with their cute purses. How far am I removed from these Lamborghini driving, small dog toting, botox loving people? I am striving to attain what they have. I think.

And when I get it, who’s to say that I’ll be happier? I’m pretty sure the extra zeros in my account will make the rent/mortgage easier to pay, therefore reducing the level of stress that comes along with scraping up pennies to keep PG&E on.

So I’ve got the house (a big one), a husband (a cute one), children (good ones) and a car (shiny without the dents), but I’ve also got a horrible system of education that leaves my good children behind, forcing them to play catch up, or become frustrated with their own intellectual recession causing them to act out. I’ve got a health plan that doesn’t cover the concerns of my husband, leading him to believe that if he doesn’t follow the rules, his life may be cut in half and his cuteness just a memory.

I’ve got people from West Oakland to West Africa living in less than desirable conditions due to poor economics, making the spaces in my huge house selfish lots for play. I’ve got a deteriorating planet because my shiny car with no dents emits too much carbon monoxide.

I’ve got the zeros and ironically nothing around me has changed. The system is still standing and my lifestyle serves as a pillar.

How can I exist, in happiness?

FLOW Scholarship

So it’s been a while since I’ve utilized my writing for blog purposes. So to all my dedicated readers, all three of you, I’d like to apologize for my evaporated state of being. I am here to inform you, if you haven’t known, that I have started a scholarship. For whom and what you might ask?! Great questions.

This scholarship is for students who attend San Francisco State University pursuing an interest in studying abroad. A monetary donation of one dollar or more would be greatly appreciated. To donate, click on the following link.

https://www.applyweb.com/public/contribute?s=sfudonat

Be sure to type in “FLOW Scholarship” in the “About Your Gift” portion of the document.

For more info, please send me an e-mail and/or a virtual message and I’d be glad to answer any questions.

Get hired 101

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

So what’s the difference between these two signs? Well one has a bit of God’s good grace sprinkled in between the creases, while the other has strings attached.

 

Guess who got the job.