I blew my cover...

So I've been very good at hiding my feminism. Folks tell me that I can't date black men and be a feminist and I believed them.But is the belief that black men are generally sexist  and completely wedded to  patriarchy true? Is it a similar generalization to the erroneous way black people were blamed for prop 9 being overturned - we were pigeon holed as generally homophobic. People say things like black people are more homophobic than everyone else. So black people are homophobic and black men are sexist.

Is it true?

I'm only bringing it up because I just let another one bite the dust and we both know it. We liked each other. Great conversations about politics and life and jokes...it was inevitable though. I saw it coming. He'd say things like - a man being a man or men and women can not have relationships today because folks don't know their 'roles'.  I would do the hmm mmm and a 'is that so'.

Why bother you ask?

I dunno.

I simply got tired of ended it every time a guy said something sexist. It's impossible. I wanted to date.  Tonight though he irritated me by talking about my thighs - thighs he has never touched - and I didn't appreciate it. So when he made one of his statements - tonight was a doozie -- I called him on it.

It started like this. You know, he said, I love dating African and Haitian women. I don't date Jamaican women. I told my father before if I was married to my mother (He is Jamaican) I would have divorced her. She's got a mouth on her.

*ACK...is this ass seriously saying this right now????


Oh really? What was it that you enjoyed about African and Haitian women (bookmarked the mom comment for later)(btw men with mom issues...scaaarrryyy)?

They aren't like Jamaican women. Jamaican women are always talking about paying for the pompom and manipulating you. When I'm out with African and Haitian women they have a respect built into their culture for men - so there is no issue there. (negative comment about southern women versus northern women deleted due to its inappropriate nature)

So what does that look like for you? Being respected as a man.

Well they you know uhm well they...you know how to make a man feel good? You give him a task. Make him feel needed.

Uhm mmm and they give you this task over dinner?

Well you can see where this is going. He believes that women should take care of the home and men should be the provider and protector. I said okay provider but you know, we don't live in the wild wild west, what are you protecting from whom? He says protecting emotionally and such. Sigh. Anyway.

Let me say this. I can't say that I'm completely in disagreement with his argument. I do think that both partners have roles. Men should work. Women should work as well. We both contribute to the family in ways that we feel comfortable.

The rub is that I mostly embrace traditional roles. I love to cook, want to have children, but it's not my job to make sure the laundry is done, and the food prepared; can I do it on Wednesday through Saturday and you do the other days? Jeez. You have eyes and hands, wash the dishes and do the laundry when it needs to be done. I'm not making a sound argument but this argument about proper roles annoys me.

Here's the example that annoys me the most. I said to him, I have a girlfriend who hates domestic roles. She is great however at business, she can bring in that cash and wants to be the CEO of like a JP Morgan chase. What do you think about that? His tone: derisive. If she can do that and keep her family together then fine. I just need my wife at home with the children when they come because woman are natural----blah blah blah --
I know you know the scrip.

ARE YOU FRICKIN SERIOUS?

He follows with, I don't mean to diminished or pigeon hole anyone. I said, would you have said the same thing of a man who wanted to run JP Morgan chase. No answer.

So I didn't call him on this stuff because ultimately it has nothing to do with us. Neither of us is good in business and I don't mind doing laundry, but the rub for me is people who are not open minded about the world. I am a grown woman. I don't need a leader, I need a partner; and those things are not the same thing.

In the name of patriarchy rebuilding the community, these folks are running around saying that women and men can't stay in relationship because folks don't now their roles -- we know what that means.

I submit that we are having difficulty in relationships because men and the institution of marriage has yet to restructure itself embracing the freedom that women have acquired over the last 100 years. We have the right to vote, and the right to a divorce, and a right to be protected by the state from domestic violence, and the right to own land, and the right to open a bank account in our names, and a right to keep our money and our children should we leave our husbands.

Anyway, I've said all this before many many many times. (Did you see the nytimes article about the rising divorce rate in Iran? Those women were given the freedom to leave and they are jumping on that bandwagon) And the initial point to be explored is what are the implications of being a feminist in the Black American dating market? I'm not sure but at this point following that conversation it feels bleak.

Tomorrow when I am hopeful again I will remember that black people are not more homophobic than white people and black men are not all wedded sexism and patriarchy- there are some black people who hate gay people and some men(and women) who will forever be wedded to patriarchy - but there are others who are open minded about this topic - I will wait on them. And besides, I know plenty of men like that, I've dated them mind you! Stupid ass. Off with their heads!!  On to the next one!! * Stilettos clicking down the hall.

Oh wow. last post for 2010. hope ur NYE was wonderful!

ugh...

not that you care.
but i'm home.
the snow sucks.
the travel made me so tired i couldn't sleep
or read my kindle.
sigh. my neck. my back.
and people think i'm partying on saturday.
fuck new years. i'm jewish.
new years isn't until april.
thanks. good night.

(yes I did post a picture of that man peeing)

Impulses...

It was a hell of a night...lol...

Boy I struggle with the pics...but I was there...fun times.

I didn't buy this one....waaaay too much...and who wants to wear spanx to the club?

Okay, gnight for real. Besos.

Me, my dude, and my bday. G'night!

Happy Birthday to me!!!

Hello:

its 12:16. sadly...i'm not a steep 32. fortunately i hang with old people so they assure me i'm not old yet. i'm kinda out of shape right now - i hope i can get my mojo back soon.

 i'm looking forward to reading, and loving, and moving, and writing, and friending, and familing, and perming, and running, and cutting, and shopping, and caressing, and painting, and caring, and debating, and movieing, and 'ocho'ing and...italying.

Lord bless me to be able to do those things, bless me to keep my family safe and healthy, and all that good shit i don't have time to talk about.

Off to bed so I can be prepared for the spa.

Love you and thank you for reading.

Yup, impulse...

dudes cry and other crap...

Kathy Lee and Hoda weighed in this morning on men crying. Not that they are a credible source - not Kathy Lee anyway...her politics are screwed. Poor Hoda obviously was supposed to be a real journalist but took the cash instead - I have no hate for the choice - money is important, her platform is going to massive compared to mine :).

So with the John Bayner cry episode on 60 Minutes everyone is talking about it...men crying that is. They showed Clinton and Bush and others in power doing it - didn't seem  weak to me... And thus revealed my true queasiness with it. That dude was broke with no clear ambition and was turning 40 and owned nothing - now that isn't his goal in life mind you, he is intent on leaving the country to escape the strictures of the capitalistic ideology that retards our spiritutality, I think that's what he meant to say anyway.

So I say all that to say that he was a loser ANYWAY and thus the crying was simply the icing on top of a melting, mushy, fruit filled (not a gay reference, I hate fruit filling and therefore I am trying to convery my ick factor) pathmark cake with whipped topping...(the worse). Oddly though - - Miss Patty still likes him...*shrugs shoulders.

(Sheepish face)

Other crap.

How do you feel about the hard press? The 'you're fly, I'm fly, we should have babies someday' press? (Shaking my head knowingly, yup that move is hot) Hell yeah baby - that's what I'm talking about. No worries I've heard it before I'm not losing my head...yet.

(Rocking Erykah - Fall in Love with me (You're Funeral)) 

Erykah I wish I had voodoo you do. I just listen and wonder what I'd do with all that pussy power...hehehe (bookmark).

So I will let you get back to work...but I'm questioning whether to do the annual birthday post... aka I need to do, I should do, blah blah blah my future, blah blah. I think the multiple 'blahs' convey my feelings on it happening.

(hmm mmm Jaheim...'I gotta a job and a trainer' Jaheim - not 'harlem thug how'd you really get that escalade' Jaheim...."Gotta find my way back" is not good for the focus. You know what I mean... *side eye)

Gotta take it easy on 'em

I still have my 'niggas ain't shit' post written and saved.

My heart wasn't in it.

I'm newly single, dating and having a great fucking time.  I know now that women are crazy...but shit if these dudes don't have problems. pro.bl.ems.

One recent date, we're calling him BB or candles, had captured my attention. He was skinny, smart, a painter with beautiful hands (I have a bit of an obsession with man hands....healthy fingers *wink) and he works in the non-profit world. When I say 'captured my attention' I mean I kissed him on the second date (big moves for me *prude alert!) and lord Jesus - smh- skills people - no details though :).  Now I should have known something was wacky because when we first met at the Speakeasy. He was chatting and randomly we got on the subject of why all his girls become 'friends'[bitch FLAG awaving].  But I'm focused (on his lips) and love digging for buried treasure so I put that aside ( I mean, women have left good men on the showroom floor before - or so the myth goes) and kept it moving.

Date three? Obsession aside let's get to the meat...he spent a great deal of time talking about himself. Now, clue 1 you're in trouble with me? I have on my gentle voice (sticky sweet and alluring like that siren chick crashing ships) and I'm asking you how you felt about whatever you just revealed....that's my work voice. If my work voice is on it because I'm starting suspect that your ass is crazy...but your dumb ass is going to keep talking...

I asked 'candles' what did he like to do for fun. He replies[and this is where the fun is] he likes to pamper himself - get some candles, put on some Sade and take a bubble bath. (pause) a bubble bath.

It may sound like I'm being a frozen concrete bitch but as a feminist who rejects reified gender roles - but in my house you can't be a bitch. That is a horrible contradiction. Can we just look at it as a place where I need some growth??? Forgive me.  I suppose that I could have moved on from this quirk except that he already mentioned that he cries, that his last girlfriend dumped him because 'she needed to be with someone stronger than herself' and when she dumped him outside of his kids school - yes, he cried.

Now I have processed what it means to be a feminist and think this guy is a bitch. I have reconciled my contradiction by recognizing two things. The first is that the vagina [aka miss patty] decides who she is going to be happy with and, barring abuse; if she isn't happy, I'm not happy. Politics be dammed. The second realization I had is that I don't respect, what I identify as, weakness in either sex. It frustrates me and I avoid people who complain and don't stick shit out as a general rule. Everyone in my circle is a hard worker, a survivor, and committed to making 'it' happen. I don't see that in this guy. So I'm pulling out the instinct card to avoid getting placed in the judgemental bitch category - (chuckle) - hope that side shuffle worked.

But I had a good fucking time. I swear. Whose next!!!

( I already met him - but one on one date hasn't happened yet...fun tiimmmmmessss)

Dam, i'm fucked up. I got work to do.

                                           

I'm finally working on my statement of purpose for school. I can't fathom the emotional hesitancy that had me procrastinate this for so long.  The distractions I have employed to put it aside...obsessing over if 'he' is going to call, traveling to different states to 'work on it' with friends, attending lectures, retreats and information sessions instead of fucking sitting down and writing the bitch out. I knew I had reached a new low with that obsession of when 'dude' was going to call. I can like someone but obsessing is definitely not my steelo.

         "So what is really going on with you Ms. lady?" I had to ask myself, "If you're thinking about him what aren't you thinking about?"

silence.

Then way back in that dark corner of my mind that little trader tentatively mentioned in a quiet voice..."Your paper, your internship and your job" and I guess when that voice didn't met any resistance from me she slipped to the front and just started ticking them off her fingers:
         "You didn't process the information you got when you went to Virginia, you didn't take notes from the last information session, you didn't find out when the next m.s.w meeting was going to be this year, you never contacted that dude from NYU and asked him questions about that policy degree he has, you never put the information from the bread retreat into your notes for the office and for the paper, you haven't asked rice formally to write a reference for you and you still have checked with Dionne about getting a reference letter from D. Williams."

deep breath/sigh.

Is this what fear of success looks like? I still maintain that it is truly fear of failure - but whatever. It feel true and I don't need therapy to confirm that for me.

alright. back to work.

My family..wtf*

I always, smugly, shake my head in affirmation when people talk about how crazy their families are, the craziness of the holidays, and their dread at the prospect of being cooped up in a confined space for untold hours with their kin -- but I don't really identify with the sentiment. My family isn't fucked up - well Kim is...more on that later - we're ...quirky. I know now, intellectually, that my mother is a ...whats the name of the thingy....not a pack rat...a hoarder. Yeah, not as bad as the people on the show (which I watch with apprehension - it's so sad, really...sad) but more like I never pick anything up, or never hang anything up or never put that folded pile of laundry in the actual drawer...as a matter of fact, she most likely never got the laundry out of the dryer in the  first place.

I am prepared for this madness. I said intellectually. Emotionally somewhere in a small tiny dark room in my heart I'm still pissed, annoyed, embarrassed and angry.

Well these motherfuckers decided to ruin my dam thanksgiving.

About two weeks ago my nephew[son of aforemention Kim, also older sister of mine] ran away. That's what I'm calling it. He just..never came home one day. Yes, he is 21 BUT he is legally blind, has cerebral palsy, and one leg is shorter than the other. All you morbid people can laugh now - I probably would...my boss laughed when I told her about him. Fucked up right?

So he isn't independent in any sense of the word. He moved to his girlfriends aunts house to sleep on the couch -- for real. So he hated  wanted to get away from his mother so much that he and his blind girlfriend would rather sleep on a couch than wait and get assisted living for the blind. I have mentioned my opinions on my sister child rearing skills previously and to catch you up...my blind nephew who has cerebral palsy ran away to sleep on his girlfriend aunts couch. enough said? okay.

Short and sweet. I spend my dam thanksgiving cleaning my mothers back room so that my nephew could move in. After we went to the house and saw that this bitch was crazy, and ghetto, and crazy (did I mention the boyfriend from jail who was coming home in December? no? well...yeah) we moved his shit pronto.

Sigh. My family is crazy. When I go home to NYC I can leave it behind and BE who I choose. But going home is a bitch.