Au Natural

Good morning. I only have a few scraps of imagery left from last nights dream, the most memorable one being of an older black woman with a whipped milk chocolate complexion, long and kinky silver hair twisted tightly, an illuminating smile that made me rise with one as well, and a statuesque figure that made her strength something that the eyes could see. She had an awe inspiring beauty about her, she was not just a black woman, she was a make-up of everything that makes natural black women so beautiful . There are few things of more pulchritude than the maturation of an au natural black woman. I have become infatuated with well-kept kinky hair; only we can grow it and its exclusiveness makes it more priceless than any stone. From the skin that appears to have been lightly touched by the sun, to those who look to have been embraced by its smothering arms, I love natural black women, regardless what shade of skin they are in, they are so all beautiful. Sultry lips, full hips, an arched back and high-heeled steps in confidence, on them my eyes remain fixed.

I could go on, but my point is so simple, I love, love, LOVE, a natural black woman. However, I must own up to the fact that I have not always felt this way. In fact, my love for natural black beauty only came as a result of an erased ignorance of what beauty is, and where my standard for it was derived. It wasn’t long ago that I, just as many others, found myself more attracted to lighter woman, and infatuated with long straight hair. Of course I did not know why this became “my type” I just knew what I liked. One of the first things I realized when studying sociology, is that there is nothing original about us besides the result of everything we have allowed ourselves to be, and the clay we use to mold ourselves come from our own experiences and environment.

That goes to say, a majority of the clay used to create our perception of what is beautiful comes from the media, which is itself controlled by white men. As mere toddlers we are seated in front of television sets to baby sit us, and from thereon the media pushes into our minds, the idea that black equates to darkness, evil, ugly, while white is pure, untouched, and beautiful. Black is ugly, while white is the standard of beauty, so now we have a prism that shows how close we are to beautiful, all we have to do is match it to our hair and skin tone. So what does the black woman do if it is not quite close enough, If where we she falls on this prism is not acceptable in society? She places chemicals in her hair to make it straight, lightens her face with make-up, strives to lose the curves and thighs, etc. Some of them do every thing in their power to move closer what is the standard of beauty in this society.

Our black women are strong; there is no doubt about that. The history and present state of their struggle has created in them a force to be reckoned with, and I admire that strength. However, there is nothing more sexy than a black woman strong enough to withstand the pressure placed upon them to give up all that makes them uniquely beautiful to conform to what is “more acceptable”. She not only accepts, but embraces her kinky hair, chocolate skin, full lips, and hips. She is not afraid to show strength in her voice and confidence in her steps. She carries herself like a Queen should, and expects nothing less than to be treated as royalty. Her touch inspires hope, comfort, rejuvenation, and her smile sprinkles joy on the most broken of hearts. I love my black women, but I guess I’m in love/infatuated with the natural ones.

insecure black men

I just received this message in my facebook inbox…

"I like your status it makes sense White girls are a place of comfort of insecure men"

I think many people fail to understand that our securities tend to lie in the pockets of those we really care about. On top of that, all of us have our own insecurities. In a relationship, it is your job to make your man/woman feel a wonder even when you know they are not, because if you don’t someone else will.

Think about this, the less you tell your man how good he looks, the better it feels to him when a stranger does, and the same is true the other way around.I think when black women say things like this “white women are great for insecure black men” it is a cop out; it comes from them not looking for the problem at home. You have to think, as beautiful as our black women are, why are many black men running away from them? Why is it that your significant other is insecure? That should never be the case. His or her security is at all times your responsibility. If he/she is lacking it is your fault.

You can find a man as secure as they come, but when he begins to confide in you, or allows himself to become vulnerable, you now have the power to pummel it into the ground.I dunno’ im just thinkin’hotep

dropping money in the sand

Can someone explain to me why we there is even a discussion being made about sending a proposed 40.ooo more troops tp afganistan to "fight for their freedom" when we have people who need help with their fight everyday right here in America? There are people fighting to be freed of a the reprocutions of a greedy healthcare system, a crumbling housing industry, and a dead auto industry, There are people right here in this country fighing for their homes, fighting to feed their children, and fighting to keep their jobs. Yet, we continue to invest billions of dollars and our servicemen and women in the "aiding" other countries,

I remember when the stimulous bill was being passed, and there was a major resistance in this country to help the people, but when we are planning to send more troops to afgan-a-wha? We hear nothing.

Look I'm all about helping people, but someone gave me some wise words once, they said the best thing you can do for the needy is to NOT BECOME the needy.

There is politics and image at major play here, so since doing the right thing, which in my opinion is to withdraw all troops and protect ourselves, will probably not happen until there is no choice, and that will be when there is no money left.

40,ooo troops will cost us millions upon millions of dollars, money that could be going to all of these programs being slashed in half, or to the businesses that are doing the right thing, but being hurt by the economy. The war is a major reason we are in this mess, and it looks like it will be this war that keeps us there.

Women have needs

Women have needs

I used to close my eyes and cover my face with a pillow while he was inside of me, but his penetrations ran so deep that that it was more than clear, he wasn’t my boyfriend. In fact, he was beyond a good friend and more of a “filler” for the boyfriend who could never be around. In the beginning he made clear his intentions with me, just like every other guy, he was trying to “holla”. Over time, when he saw that his attempts weren’t getting him anywhere, he gave up and somehow we grew closer as friends. The closer we became the more roles I let him fill that were lacking in my relationship. They started off innocently enough, we’d talk on the phone, watch T.V. together, make visits and such, but I think the lines became blurry when I allowed him to sleep over, or maybe it was the time we went skinny dipping in the pool, it could have even been when we took the shower afterwards and I let him wash me slowly with a bar of soap, regardless, I know for a fact things changed when I let him give me a full body massage, with no clothes on.

I knew what I was getting myself into, and honestly, by that time It was already on my mind. I would catch myself staring at his print while we lay on the bed, and I could feel it throbbing on my backside when he held me at night. Catching a feel of his body when we hugged would excite me, and I would find myself instantly moist whenever he pushed those big strong hands into the knots in my back. The first time we had sex it came at the back end of one of those massages, the first one in which I was naked. He ended it with some extra attention on my butt and before I knew it he’d slipped his tongue into the spot where his hands already had me dripping wet. A part of me wanted to resist, but the other part, the one that wanted him to keep going, was the one that made itself known with a slip of a few groans that escaped from my lips. He took notice that I was down and in one swift motion spread my legs wider to get a better taste, and he went to work.

I tried to use my imagination to replace him with my man but the head was better, his arms stronger, and before his tongue forced me to orgasm I found out that HE was bigger, a lot bigger. So I covered my face with a pillow so I could see my boyfriend’s face. When guilt tried to show face I would say no, but careful in a way that he knew not to stop, and if I did manage to move as if I’d had enough, he would pin me down in a way that made me want to beg for more.

Someone once asked me if long distance relationships worked, I said yeah, for a while, but a woman has needs.