Why THIS Wife Isn’t Team Angie!

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Disclaimer: If you have yet to watch the latest episode of Power or don’t watch it at all, you should probably just click out of this now because you won’t “feel” my pain or understand anything that I’m preaching about.

 

As I sat on my couch one morning this week going over bank accounts, balancing the checking, savings, and bills, walking my husband through otherwise intelligible tasks, ordering my son’s school uniform, and then figuring out what I would use to create magic and invent a well-balanced nutritional breakfast for my children, I began to think about just how much wives do for their families, and began to ponder on this past week’s episode of Power. I immediately got a knot in my stomach and wanted to punch somebody.

Here’s the thing, while we all absolutely love and go bat shit crazy for this show; with its electrifying plots, rough neck urban-chic gangster vibe, and thrilling twists and turns, we continually allow the red flag to go over our heads that in the interim of this scintillating entertainment, there is a family being destroyed and a marriage being diabolically disrespected.

A lot of people like to separate Ghost vs. James St. Patrick and give some brilliant bullshit synopsis of why Jamie turned to Angie, and how Ghost was exhausted from his street life, leading him to turn away from his Wife. Fail! It’s this little thing called personal responsibility and accountability. You not being happy with your marriage/relationship is one thing. You not being happy with yourSELF and the alter ego You chose to create is another. At what point do you become a man and start being honest about your mess? He can cry that river all he wants to, build a boat, then float off to sea and get the f*ck outta my face with that BS! (Please pardon my language but we’re talking Love & War here)  I’m not buying into the melodramatics nor am I here for any parts of Jamie and Angie’s dysfunctionally absurd relationship.

This Wife isn’t Team Angie and let me tell you why…

  • Death to Side Chicks – Let me just go ahead and get this out now so y’all can be mad at me and then get over it. I don’t do side chicks. I don’t condone the practice, you, or your ministry; and nope I am not talking about girlfriend/boyfriend relationships. I am speaking in terms of marriage. Dating a married man. A man who you know is married. A man who you know is legally, emotionally, financially, psychologically, and otherwise tied to another whole woman. A man that is not yours. Before you tell me that I’m rude and judgmental, know that I am also very transparent. Have I dated somebody else’s boyfriend?? Of course I have! I was like 23, in college, still paying my rent with refund checks, and drinking Mad Dog 20/20. He didn’t own a nightclub, live in a penthouse suite, and have three children and a wife either. There was no broken homes, joint bank accounts, traumatized offspring, alimony, private-school tuition, or mortgages to think about. You get my drift?? I won’t now, nor will I ever, have an ounce of care and respect for a woman who thinks she can find her life and happiness in someone else’s man. Those of you who didn’t know he was married, bless your hearts and we’ll counsel you at a later time. For that other pathetic half, know that I have a coke, a smile, and my .22 waiting on you if you think for half a minute that my Mr is about to become apart of your happy ending.
  • Ain’t Nothing Better Than P*ssy, Except New P*ssy – I’m a married woman but I ain’t stupid! We have heard this line several times, and several men will attest to this notion. This also very heavily proves my point. Boo Boo Kitty was some new stuff, with a bonus of being someone whom he previously knew and seemingly trusted (sex-wise at least). We’re talking about a man who otherwise probably didn’t have time to find something random to be running up in besides his wife. Then here presents this perfectly packaged punanny, wrapped in an unadulterated clueless blast of infidelity called Angie. Not only do you get to explore a new womanly aura, you get to do so in lavish hotel suites, without kids in the next room, and under the guise that you all will live happily ever after in blasé bliss.
  • The Woman That Knows Nothing & Asks No Questions Isn’t the Real MVP – Every married man has that one gripe with us wives. We want and need to know what the hell is going on, and we will stay on your ass until we are given the information that is needed. We are the ones that won’t let you keep secrets, hide significant portions of your life, tell us any ole thing, or sell us a damn dream. We fill out the important paperwork you don’t wanna be bothered with, make sure the presentations are sent to your boss on time, know the lawyer and the best friend and how to get in contact with them when shit goes down, and run interference on all of your business matters to make sure things run smoothly.  You damn right we aren’t going to be the easy breezy, goofball knucklehead that lets you get away with murder!! Angie banged Jamie for almost two full seasons before she even knew his real identity and that she was in bed with the same person she was trying to take down. You do the math on that one. I digress…
  • You Don’t Get to Live Happily Ever After With What I’ve Built Up – This is a serious one here! Ma’am, I have endured years of bad credit, financial instability, riding in a hoopty, eating Ramen noodles, smashing in random places, and loving unconditionally for you to come swoop up the upgraded, new model of all my dirt, sweat and tears!! He wasn’t always “Ghost” and didn’t become such by himself! If we choose to remember the whole story on Ms. Valdez and Mr. St. Patrick, we’ll remember that she supposedly up and left homeboy when ish got rough for him, and she got access to better opportunities for her life. His Wife is who was down with him from the bottom and helped him to build that empire. His Wife is who attends the monthly meetings at the bank, reviews their legit finances, signs off on the accounts, runs his home, raises his children, attends pertinent business outings as his partner, knows the major players in both businesses and how to run them, makes sure the dirty money is cleaned and the dropped bodies are never discovered, and will do whatever is necessary when the necessary occurs…You don’t get to walk away from the person who has held your raggedy butt down before you became the powerhouse that you are. She also doesn’t get to reap the benefits of what I’ve worked for without having to get her hands dirty! Relationships based in rainbows and purple moons don’t last. Hence the fact that Ghost and James St. Patrick had to leave Angela Valdez alone and take both of their asses back home!
  • Our Children Don’t Deserve the Messy Outcome – One of the biggest disturbances of a broken family is the effect it has on the kids. No one seems to think about this when we’re sneaking on a vacation with that outside person, or telling them how much we love and adore them and are willing to leave our spouses for them. You see, our children actually get it the worst because nine times out of ten they never saw it coming and are given this outrageously horrifying news at a point where all decisions have been made and the damage is already done. They have no say so and feel powerless, unloved, and unimportant. All that Ghost’s kids got to see was a new woman who wasn’t Mommy, whom Daddy had moved on with, and that they now had to pretend they liked. That’s not fair and you won’t put my kids through it for a fantasy land affair! I didn’t birth three of your children to split them in three parts with another completely aloof undeserving person who doesn’t honor that stature.

When it’s all said and done, there will be several sides and points of view for this scenario. There are women who have been on both sides of the spectrum, and those who haven’t. There will be some that have an opposing outlook to mine, and that’s just fine. I came here today, however, to tell you why THIS wife just ain’t for it!!!

 

 

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Just Who Does SHE Think She Is

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Who IS this chick? This calculatingly cocky, positively presumptuous, seductively savage ball of feminine mystical brilliance!

You’re absolutely tired of her antics and a bit irked by your inner and uncontrollable  desire to remain enthralled within her aura, and see what she’s doing now. You can’t avoid women like this. They’re the movers and the shakers, the power players. They don’t actually create the controversy, but instead plant the seeds to get the harvest growing. You  painstakingly try to figure out how she so gracefully gets away with murder, not ever realizing that she never actually touches the gun…

Seriously though, again, who IS this chick and Just Who Does SHE Think She Is??

  • Who Does She Think She Is…always affirming her strength and aptitude.
  • Who Does She Think She Is…unapologetically going against the grain.
  • Who Does She Think She Is…living the life she was actually destined for.
  • Who Does She Think She Is…challenging the norm.
  • Who Does She Think She Is…rich and well-versed in her cultural identity.
  • Who Does She Think She Is…continuously overcoming adversity.

Who Does She Think She Is…and more importantly, Why Do You Care?

SHE is a Queen. She is unapologetic in her actions and her life choices. While needing no validation from her peers, she thrives in her own confidence and appreciation for every stride she makes. Her perspectives aren’t easily wavered, and her philosophies are usually based on fact rather than popular opinion. She’s regal in her demeanor and often exudes an intimidating disposition. She’s probably the sweetest girl in the room, but your worst nightmare during a questionable encounter. She isn’t afraid to speak her mind and silence your ignorance. Don’t ever misconceive her brief quiet moments for overall weakness. Remember, she is calculated. She’s fierce at chess and knows precisely how to play each move. She’s often even-tempered and indifferent, but never unaware or naive. She’s a force to be reckoned with in her professional endeavors, and makes moves inaudibly, leaving her adversaries in utter unforeseen awe upon each accomplishment. Her explicit personality has no room in her romantic relationship. While she demands the utmost respect from her mate, she’s delicate enough to know when submission is necessary; hence the fact that she actually has a good relationship. Trust is entertained quite loosely with her, as she has lived life enough to know that most hit dogs will holler. She’s mysterious yet colorful, and says the things that most will only think. Her transparency is refreshing and intriguing, as it becomes puzzling to see a woman of her stature not be perfect. Her children are off-limits to egregious nonsense, and violation of this rule is the quickest way to find yourself on the other side of her hell. She welcomes healthy debate and psychotically feeds off of your growing frustration to her lack of surrender. Her beauty is astonishingly exquisite, as she separates herself from norm ideals and probably embraces her natural attributes. She reads more than she watches tv and her man admires her intellect. She isn’t a huge fan of mainstream merriment, and you’ll probably find her on the opposite side of trendy social sensibilities. She’s just different.

You see, SHE is the woman we all strive to be. The woman that is inherently within all of us but only some have successfully mastered her revealing. She isn’t the everyday woman and doesn’t desire to be…So it isn’t about who she Thinks she is. It’s about who she Knows she is; and you presumably want to be just that…

 

This Is What Black Motherhood Looks Like: Birth After Loss

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Seven months ago I randomly submitted a piece to EBONY.com for a Mother’s Day feature, focusing on extraordinary stories of Black Motherhood and what it meant to me. This movement was categorized as #ThisIsWhatBlackMotherhoodLooksLike.  I literally took one of the most tragic moments of my life and commenced to spilling my pain into 1,000 words or less. I had no idea that the remarkably talented, three-time Black Weblog Awards winner, and culturally-aware Fierce Feminist Femme Fatale would actually pick my little ole essay to post! Jamilah Lemieux, Senior Editor for EBONY Magazine, made my day, my week, and inspired me to continue writing. Today I’m choosing to share again this timeless piece with you all, in hopes that I can encourage another Black Mom to keep believing!

#ThisIsWhatBlackMotherhoodLooksLike

 

This is my story…

At the age of 32, married with a busy body toddler, my wish was to “complete” my family by adding on a bright beautiful bubbling little girl. So my husband and I decided to discontinue using birth control and got to procreating! In September of 2013, I got the beginnings of my wish. After about a week of irritability, an unexplained appetite, and literally falling asleep at my desk, I told hubby to go grab the generic two-pack of pregnancy tests (they work better!), and trickled on a stick. Voilà! There it was! That one little pink line that usually defined the rest of a woman’s life. I was pleasantly surprised but still taken aback at the thought of going through the nine-month stretch again. My husband was happy, my mom was elated, and an unsuspecting only child couldn’t wait to become a big brother.

Then, October 6th happened.

Just like any other Sunday, I got up with my little one, made breakfast, and we watched “Elmo’s World.” My husband slept soundly after having worked a hellish 12-hour overnight shift. He had no idea our lives were about to change…as I snuggled into my couch and watched my son play with his toys, I began to mildly cramp up. Nothing extreme. The kind of cramps you have when people reassure you that your uterus is just stretching, so I didn’t worry. The cramps continued on though. A little longer than I had experienced before; and they got more intense. Still not in a panic, I simply got up and went to the bathroom, self-diagnosing myself with “preggo indigestion.” Only, by the time I had finished, I was on all fours in the middle of my bathroom reassuring my two-year-old that “Mommy was ok”, and gently but sternly trying to tell him to go get Daddy.

Mommy wasn’t okay. I was in the type of pain where I couldn’t move from side-to-side. All I could do was lie on the stretcher in the ER and groan sadly that I didn’t want to lose my baby. My husband held my hand tight and whispered to me to try and stay calm and that it would be okay. Again, Mommy wasn’t okay. I watched that ultrasound screen as the doctor poked and prodded earnestly trying to find some evidence of a pregnancy. There was nothing there. All I heard was “This pregnancy will not last. It has not implanted correctly…”

My world caved in and swallowed me whole. I stared up at those offensive fluorescent lights of that ER exam room and hot tears just ran down the sides of my face. I was a mere and fresh 7 weeks pregnant. I didn’t know the gender. I had already picked names though. Just the day before I had gone to Whole Foods and purchased every healthy item that my pregnancy app recommended. But in less than twenty-four hours, I would have a surgery to not only remove my baby, but my entire left fallopian tube. Life re-birthed itself from that point on.

Days were hard and nights were terrible. I boycotted social media indefinitely in the fear of seeing someone’s pregnancy announcement or overly adorable picture of an infant. My Oxycodone numbed me physically but did little to relieve my mental anguish. I didn’t talk about it much and neither did those around me. I cried at night in the living room while my husband slept and thanked God that my little boy didn’t know enough about life to even realize what had happened. I realize now that I probably should have sought out professional help, but I, as many Black women, instead treated myself with journaling, praying, and wine time at noon. After 6 full weeks at home, I realized that life had to go on, my family needed me, my career demanded me, and that I would be Ok.

Mommy was doing better. I finally got life back up and running and moved away from the misery. My husband and I chose to try again for another baby. Low and behold, at the end of January 2014, I got another pink line! A gloomy and strange cloud of uncertainty, doubt, and horror hovered over me, but then I remembered that I was a strong woman, one who needed to become that lost strength for other moms who were afraid to talk about this trauma and ashamed to admit it. So I embraced my pregnancy and celebrated even harder when I passed 7 weeks and we were told that this one had implanted where it should.

On October 9, 2014, Devin Letez Robinson came into this world at 9:01 am, exactly one year and 48 hours to the day that I had gone into surgery to terminate my ectopic pregnancy. My little boy was healthy, happy, and most importantly, alive! He’s 6 months now, and we have an unspoken bond that even I don’t understand at times. I released that hurt the moment he came into this world, and never looked back. I just want to empower other women to know that we can and will survive loss, hurt, and unfortunate circumstance. Black women are often so focused on being the never broken cord, that we forget we are human. I’m here to say…“Mommies, you will be okay!”

 
Read more and see this full article here at EBONY
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Why You’re Really Mad at Ayesha Curry…

 

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“Everyone’s into barely wearing clothes these days huh? Not my style. I like to keep the good stuff covered up for the one who matters…”

Annnnnnd just like that, the World went bananas!

I must say that I am sincerely confused by the uproar that the above comment caused. A bit taken aback even. When did our pedigree become so preposterously loose, tacky, and unapologetically disreputable? It took me awhile to even gain interest in this whole fiasco, but after really sitting down and reading some of the backlash that Mrs. Curry received for her statement, I had to regroup. Let me make sure I have the facts straight here. Society got infuriated with a respectable married mother of two young daughters, who felt as though she didn’t need her pocketbook and watermelons hanging out and on display in public?? Matter of fact, she went even further and told you that her pretty vanilla sugar was only for her husband to observe and enjoy. I’m still trying to figure out the problem here. From another married mother of two children with some damn sense…Mrs. Curry, I salute you boo!

Society has flat-out lost its entire mind. In the plight to achieve equal rights, maintain this overly remixed concept of feminism, and flaunt our independent stature, we have lost what it means to have refined class, dignity, and self-worth. I read this article, Here’s What’s Wrong With Ayesha Curry’s Tweet About How Some Women Dress ‘These Days,’ that had all types of fire for Ayesha. The author lashed out that “She’s [Ayesha] insinuating that women who dress more revealingly are showing off their ‘good stuff’ for people who don’t matter.” Hmmmm, that’s Exactly what she was saying! She didn’t insinuate a damn thing. Baby girl made it real plain.

So of course this got my mind pondering on exactly why women got their feelings hurt by one little declaration of her truth . Here’s what I think:

You’re Really Mad at Ayesha Because…

  1. She Can Back Her Statements Up With Her Lifestyle – This seems to piss people off. I think we would’ve taken her statement a bit more lighthearted and accepting if she was in fact a Complete contradiction of what she was portraying. We’re a society of calculated counterfeit bulls*t! How dare this trick actually be the person that she so arrogantly represents?
  2. She Meant Every Single Word She Said – Chile, she read you all for Filth in less than 100 words, and you were left standing in an embarrassed stupor, in your Jordan onesie, talking about being the baddest b*tch.
  3. It Burned You Up That She Does Actually Have a Husband to Show Her Goodies To – In the words of my Granny, “everybody ain’t able.” Let’s just be honest here. The Mrs just shut it down by basically letting you know that she had her forever, she didn’t need to be half-naked to keep him, and that you probably shouldn’t either. Don’t get mad at me! I’m just the messenger. 😉
  4. You Actually Thought That Dressing Scantily Clad Was Liberating – Fail! I’m all for women’s rights and the quest for liberalism. What I’m not about is losing your soul and integrity to try and prove a point. There are other ways to emancipate your womanly essence without your tatas being on display, or in a dress so snug/revealing that absolutely Nothing is left to your partner, nor the whole room’s, imagination.
  5. She Didn’t Go Along With The In-Crowd – So she doesn’t skip around with the rest of the current media mavens who decided to wear $.99 Leda stockings with rhinestones glued on them, as a dress, out to the latest big event. She also didn’t paint absurdities all over her catsuit and march through Magic City talmbout no damn “Slut Shaming”… How mad does that make you?? I can more than attest to this within my own life. Cliques are very much so real. Even as adults. When you don’t play nice with those intertwined in the ‘Moral Majority’ you get excommunicated and ostracized for going against the norm. People need to realize, however, that everybody is not going to ‘agree to disagree’ with you. Some of us are going to flat out come for your head, eat you alive, and spit out your b*llshit. This is precisely what Mrs. Curry did.
  6. Her Husband Defended & Backed Her Statement – This one right here is what made y’all want to rip her edges clean out!! Not only did she very unmercifully shoot fire with her commentary on Twitter, Hubby came through and cleverly clapped back at the naysayers by posting a flawless picture of his fully-dressed Mrs, and affectionately giving her the name “the instigator.” I do believe that unequivocal support of his opinionated boo thang (and the fact that she is gorgeous in her own right) is probably what made y’all panties hot!

At the end of the day, women need to get back to being women! Classy, elegant, posh, chic, grand, regal…These are all things that we have lost. The media tells us that we need to surgically enhance ourselves to be beautiful because the more of our bodies that we show the more attention that we will receive. Society leads you to believe that it’s empowering to be caught out with your mate, or otherwise, with little to nothing covered. Sorry, I don’t agree. Maybe we could get back to the days where we admired women such as Clair Huxtable and those of her caliber, as opposed to the video vixens, and reality show madams. Just a thought; but hey, what do I know???

 

~Check out the hair blog as well at BeNaturallyHappy.com~

Why Every Black Girl is Mary Jane Paul

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Almost 3 years ago, Gabrielle Union took over national airwaves with the character Mary Jane Paul (MJ), and all but commanded the attention of every Black woman that took at least fifteen seconds to watch her story unfold. Being Mary Jane, in my personal opinion, has been one of the most captivating viciously honest pieces of work in an American drama series, that I’ve seen in a long time. The show started out with no fluffs and never promised to please any particular audience or point-of-view. We got so lost in her affair with Andre, her feisty unapologetic tone, and self-righteous temperament, that we let it float over our heads that we just might have been looking into a mirror.

Mary Jane embodies that Black woman struggle that is only seen in our living rooms and behind the big oakwood closed doors of an expensive therapy session. This isn’t the stuff that we like to talk about. These aren’t the issues that we like to admit to others or ourselves that really do exist. The blue-print of ‘Black Girl Magic’ has become the ability to abandon transparency and just pretend that everything is ok. The strong Black woman should probably keep her mouth shut, mind her manners, let family walk all over her, put on her white face for her career, be a Super Hero to all of her friends, and still find the time to just fall her unstable behind into the arms of the perfect man that she can actually call all hers. How adorably oxymoronic. This is not real life for the Black woman, or any woman for that matter. If you can manage to shoot beyond the dissenting propaganda, her fly wardrobe, and the obvious metaphoric symbolization of her dope ass glass house, you would then be able to see this masterpiece for what it is. Every woman that I know is entombed inside of this person created by Mara Brock Akil. The Black Woman is Mary Jane Paul’s ventriloquist, if you will, and here’s why…

  • At Some Point You Probably Dated a Man That Wasn’t Yours Either and You Had No Idea What to Do About it – Let’s just call out the spades before we even start the card game. While I do not condone or promote extra-marital affairs, I’m not so aloof and bourgeois to realize that they do in fact exist, and that it’s a lot of women out here who think it’s ok! Y’all watched Mary Jane’s mess unravel and had all types of fire to breathe her way, but you forgot about that one time in college with the married professor, or who your illegitimate child’s father is. Yes, I went there and I’m going to keep going. This woman was a whole entire discombobulated tacky ball of mayhem, and what’s more important is that she was forthright enough to just go ahead and be honest about it. Guess what, she eventually got over it, and him too…just like you did!
  • You Have Gotten to a Certain Age and Become Severely Depressed Because You Don’t Have Kids Yet, and Have No Idea Who in the Hell the Daddy Would Even Be if You Did – Let’s be real. As most women creep through their thirties, this is a one-on-one conversation that you have with yourself. Of course all women do not want kids, but I’ve heard this story too many times to ignore the relevance of such. The fact of the matter is that it is Hard to have and then balance it all. Even those of us who have it are still trying to work out some kinks. Corporate society has always shunned the idea of placing motherhood over career, which is why most women wait. Corporate society has no idea about the silent personal struggle these women go through to put something so imperative to themselves on the back burner. The scary realities of fertility is something I could discuss all day! Then we have the women who are not in long-term solid relationships at the moment, but want a baby. Your time is ticking away! I’m not saying to go pilfer your next one-night-stand’s sperm, but you can clearly see the bigger message here.
  • You’re Tired of Being the Loyal Heroine for a Family That Thinks You Owe it to Them to Fix Their Chaos (But You Still Love Them Though) – Let me paint the picture for you. You’re the successful one with a stellar education, great job, nice income, and seemingly stable lifestyle. Your family resents you for this and has no problem letting you know how arrogant or selfish or rude you are, but then they end the conversation asking you for a couple of dollars. You play every role from therapist, to referee, to Mom, to big/little sister, to financial advisor and beyond. Your everyone’s whipping boy but they always call you when they’re in a jam. You feel strong guilt. This becomes emotionally draining and takes a toll on your entire life (read my second point again).
  • You’re the Strong Friend That Sometimes No One Realizes Needs Her Own Hug and Time to Just Fall Apart – You’re the alpha female in your group of friends that seems to either have it all together, or keeps them all together. You rushed to your girl’s side when she passed out in the street over a break-up with her guy, and you nursed her back to life after one too many dips in the vodka bottle, over an argument with her mom. Most friends just expect that you are always ok and assume that if you do have an issue “she’ll probably just work herself out of it.” Not so much! You have your weak moments as well, men do you wrong too, and you cry in the shower more than you would like to admit. Work is stressing you the hell out but all of your inner circle thinks that you have the “job a million girls would kill for.” So you resort to your own little rehabilitative idiosyncrasies and become your own darn support system (there is a method to the madness of MJ’s infamous Post-It notes!!!).
  • Everybody Self-Medicates Under Pressure. Yours Just Might Be Worse Than Tequila – We were enraged when the writers turned MJ into an under-the-cabinet alcoholic. Hmmmm, Wake Up Black Girl! That $700 that you just spent on the new red bottoms and called it “retail therapy” is no different than downing a glass of Mexico’s finest after a bad day at the office. Everyone has their vice. You picked yours. Don’t judge hers.
  • You Aren’t Perfect But You’re Still Trying – This one goes without needing to say very much. Every conflict in life knocks you ten tiers down from perfection. You know this, you’ve accepted this, and at some point you learn how to gracefully keep going. This, My Loves, is the quintessential essence of exactly why we are all just “Being Mary Jane…” 

Why My Marriage Might Offend You

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Over the past couple of weeks I’ve noticed a trend among women while perusing several other blogs and random articles. There seems to be a quite ubiquitous undertone about the resentment that some single women have towards women who are married. Again, I said some. Do not bring your enraged commentary under my post acting an entire fool if this does not apply to or describe you! In reality, the fact of the matter is that there are a lot of dejected and miserable females of the human species that are roaming this good Earth; and a great deal of it stems from relationship status. Denying only makes the issue worse, and then the bitterness continues to fester. Well, this girl here isn’t going to let you throw your acrimonious little temper tantrums and start downplaying my peace of mind just to keep your scab from peeling! We have got to learn to stop apologizing for the depths of our euphoria and the plight towards positivity that we have demanded and drawn into our lives. Some may call me a narcissist after reading this, while others will shout in praise. However you take it, just remember that your and my life still exist outside of this blog! 🙂

Now in true fashion of my infamous lists, spicy speculations, and widely known word venom, I have personally put together some brutally honest logic as to why my, and other women’s, marriages just might leave you a bit vexed.

  1. We Actually Like Each Other –  As in, even on our bad days we don’t want to stab each other into little pieces. We actually know and appreciate who we’ve married and enjoy being around one another. This seems to get under people’s skin. Why? I don’t know, but that isn’t my problem to figure out either! I know you’re thinking that this is a bit obvious but it isn’t. There is a huge percentage of the population married to individuals whom they don’t actually even care for. I’ve seen it before. It goes along with the issue of marrying for the wrong reasons.
  2. We Have No Skeletons in the Closet – We both have pasts. We are both aware of those pasts. We could care less…Nothing is secretly going to be revealed that will make the other fret or cause disarray in our union. This annoys people…We are sorry for your disappointment.
  3. Our Marriage is No Different on Social Media Than it is in Real Life – This is a basic one but it needed to be said. We don’t pretend or portray to be anything that we are not. What you see is what you get and most people who end up meeting us are usually pleasantly surprised by our relationship. We don’t hide our love, but we also aren’t obnoxiously leaving kissing emojis all over each other’s pages every ten minutes. We follow one another on different sites and neither of us have any weird, possessive, jealousy, or infidelity issues involved in that. Again, this seems to tick people off. Social Media runs the world and the validity of your relationship depends on its portrayal. HA!
  4. My Husband Used to a Player – Like, not a regular player, but the super smooth frat guy that your Momma always told your butt to stay away from. Then he told all of the runner ups to stop texting him and turned his player card in for little ole me. People can’t seem to, and don’t want to, fathom that.
  5. We Are Best Friends. If There is Ever a Me Versus You Situation, I Will Always Win – This one seems to be the killer, and not many truly understand. My husband is my protector, my bodyguard, and my King. He will always and forever have my back! We have been through a great deal together, and when he took his vows he meant it. Unfortunately there is not a darn thing you’re going to be able to do about that…Sorry But Not Sorry 😉
  6. We Are Happy – It’s just that simple. Real Life Undeniable Unconditional Black Love! Two people who took a chance and make it work. My real life Love Jones, the ‘perfect hook to a dope beat,’ the one who ‘personifies my admiration’ and makes me giggle. He is my Lover and the Father of my children. He accepts me the way that I am and holds my existence in the highest regard. He is I and I am Me! Just let us be.

I have found my Cloud Nine, and you better go find yours! Never be mad about what the next lady has…Instead, ask her how she got it!

Still a Black Woman With a Story…Still Not Angry

angry black woman

One of my readers sent me an article to review and give my personal opinion on. “Why I’m Absolutely an Angry Black Woman” is a post addressing all of the reasons why women of color should be angry. Of course this point of view is completely opposite of that in which I recently wrote about, so I’ve given a short response to how I feel about it. I also posted this on my Facebook page but wanted it to reach a larger audience. This isn’t meant to be an entire blog post, but instead a short narrative on why I Still won’t be angry…

“Alright, here’s my thing with this: I read this piece and it’s very good. However, I can say a lot of the same things and share some horrid stories of racism and prejudice that would make some cringe. I was born and raised in the heart of the notorious West Side of Chicago by an old-school down South feisty Black woman, Ethel Robinson. I was then rapidly thrown into the vicious whirlwind of wealthy Upper-Class Northern Suburbia once my Grandmother died. I was 9. With the same thick kinky hair that I have now. They didn’t like that. They wanted to know why my pony-tail didn’t move. I got called to the front office for having the Poetic Justice braids. They weren’t ‘in the uniform.’ My Mom had fun with That one…They wanted to know why my shoes weren’t Doc Martens and why my mother drove an old Fifth Avenue instead of a Benz. Or how about going to birthday parties at Country Clubs where other Moms giggled when I told them mine actually worked. Now don’t get me wrong, my Mom had money. Good money, and a good job. She was driving that car because it had no car note and my Grandmother would’ve turned in her grave if she knew it had gotten sold. She was working as one of the top execs at one of the top companies in the World and she enjoyed it. She saved our money and put aside to actually do things with me, as opposed to putting me off on a Nanny or sending me away. None of that mattered though. I was weird to them. They were mean. I went through a thing those years I spent out in Glenview at that uppity expensive ass private school. A thing I only Recently told my Mom about.

My first job was at Nordstrom in Skokie. I had no idea how cruel, insensitive and racist older Caucasian women could be. I was only 17. I wasn’t ready for that level of enlightenment just yet.

Then there was working downtown on Michigan Avenue with the city’s elite and fetching size 7 stilettos for Black Card toting socialites who thought it was a compliment to tell you how vibrant your ‘dark skin’ was and that you were ‘such a cute Black girl!’ I wore the weaves and covered up my motionless pony-tail so that I could fit in better.

In ALL of that happening, I never bought into being “angry.” There was no point. I took each one of those circumstances and learned something powerful from it! As an adult, I now know how to play all of the sides. I still know how to walk down my old street without feeling threatened and respond when people call me Tricey. I also know how to put on my game face for a corporate meeting and work the hell out of a presentation. You see, we as people of color have to get away from the resentment and oppression and learn to take our misfortunes and experiences as tools towards building betterment! Anger does no good except build on itself and create deeper chaos and cultural entanglement. Learn to let go! I did…and that’s why I STILL won’t subscribe to the ‘Angry Black Woman’ cliché!”

You can also catch this content Black woman spreading all kinds of Naturally Happy joy to others seeking to beat the odds at www.BeNaturallyHappy.com. Grab a t-shirt or a hair product or Whatever it takes you to aggressively go against the anger!