Dearly.Beloved

14.8.11

Tiny Beautiful Things

Dear Sugar,
I read your column religiously. I’m 22. From what I can tell by your writing, you’re in your early 40s. My question is short and sweet: what would you tell your 20-something self if you could talk to her now?
Love,
Seeking Wisdom

Dear Seeking Wisdom,

Stop worrying about whether you’re fat. You’re not fat. Or rather, you’re sometimes a little bit fat, but who gives a shit? There is nothing more boring and fruitless than a woman lamenting the fact that her stomach is round. Feed yourself. Literally. The sort of people worthy of your love will love you more for this, sweet pea.

In the middle of the night in the middle of your twenties when your best woman friend crawls naked into your bed, straddles you, and says, You should run away from me before I devour you, believe her.

You are not a terrible person for wanting to break up with someone you love. You don’t need a reason to leave. Wanting to leave is enough. Leaving doesn’t mean you’re incapable of real love or that you’ll never love anyone else again. It doesn’t mean you’re morally bankrupt or psychologically demented or a nymphomaniac. It means you wish to change the terms of one particular relationship. That’s all. Be brave enough to break your own heart.

When that really sweet but fucked up gay couple invites you over to their cool apartment to do ecstasy with them, say no.

There are some things you can’t understand yet. Your life will be a great and continuous unfolding. It’s good you’ve worked hard to resolve childhood issues while in your twenties, but understand that what you resolve will need to be resolved again. And again. You will come to know things that can only be known with the wisdom of age and the grace of years. Most of those things will have to do with forgiveness.

One evening you will be rolling around on the wooden floor of your apartment with a man who will tell you he doesn’t have a condom. You will smile in this spunky way that you think is hot and tell him to fuck you anyway. This will be a mistake for which you alone will pay.

Don’t lament so much about how your career is going to turn out. You don’t have a career. You have a life. Do the work. Keep the faith. Be true blue. You are a writer because you write. Keep writing and quit your bitching. Your book has a birthday. You don’t know what it is yet.

You cannot convince people to love you. This is an absolute rule. No one will ever give you love because you want him or her to give it. Real love moves freely in both directions. Don’t waste your time on anything else.

Most things will be okay eventually, but not everything will be. Sometimes you’ll put up a good fight and lose. Sometimes you’ll hold on really hard and realize there is no choice but to let go. Acceptance is a small, quiet room.

One hot afternoon during the era in which you’ve gotten yourself ridiculously tangled up with heroin you will be riding the bus and thinking what a worthless piece of crap you are when a little girl will get on the bus holding the strings of two purple balloons. She’ll offer you one of the balloons, but you won’t take it because you believe you no longer have a right to such tiny beautiful things. You’re wrong. You do.

Your assumptions about the lives of others are in direct relation to your naïve pomposity. Many people you believe to be rich are not rich. Many people you think have it easy worked hard for what they got. Many people who seem to be gliding right along have suffered and are suffering. Many people who appear to you to be old and stupidly saddled down with kids and cars and houses were once every bit as hip and pompous as you.

When you meet a man in the doorway of a Mexican restaurant who later kisses you while explaining that this kiss doesn’t “mean anything” because, much as he likes you, he is not interested in having a relationship with you or anyone right now, just laugh and kiss him back. Your daughter will have his sense of humor. Your son will have his eyes.

The useless days will add up to something. The shitty waitressing jobs. The hours writing in your journal. The long meandering walks. The hours reading poetry and story collections and novels and dead people’s diaries and wondering about sex and God and whether you should shave under your arms or not. These things are your becoming.

One Christmas at the very beginning of your twenties when your mother gives you a warm coat that she saved for months to buy, don’t look at her skeptically after she tells you she thought the coat was perfect for you. Don’t hold it up and say it’s longer than you like your coats to be and too puffy and possibly even too warm. Your mother will be dead by spring. That coat will be the last gift she gave you. You will regret the small thing you didn’t say for the rest of your life.

Say thank you.

Yours,
Sugar

7.5.11

I miss this thing here.

A little.

Sometimes.

Okay, not really.

Or maybe, just not a lot.

But a little.

It was fun.

And cute.

And entertaining.

Yeah.

I just may miss this thing a leetle.

12.1.11

I love shoes but waiting for the other to drop is the part I hate about them.

I wish there were some way I could avoid that way of thinking, but sometimes your past does have a way of messing with your future.

I’m not looking for perfection, just a good match – the right to my left, the flip to my flop.

Cuz when the shoe fits, nothing feels better.

And its true that you may have to try on many pairs before you find which to invest in.

And it is an investment.

Or at least should be.

Shopping at payless,you shouldn’t be too surprised when the shoe falls apart.

Buying shoes because they were on sale, because you were having a bad day, without trying them on will usually lead to regret.

And you should never regret a shoe.

Shoes make you feel good and look good.

They can change your mood and your body.

They can change how you see and present yourself.

(There is a reason why they say to always put your best foot forward)

So is it no wonder that every girl is in search of the perfect shoe?

That we see each other as competition rather than someone who could help us find the right size?

Which is sad, because isn’t one of the best part of shoes is that one size doesn’t fit all?

That there is truly a match for everyone?

Sure there is disappointment when you see a shoe of beauty, but it doesn’t fit or its not in your size.

But perhaps it didn’t fit your budget or would have caused you more pain in the end.

And if there is one thing we’ve all done, is worn/bought a pair of shoes that didn’t fit.

Knowing fully well it wouldn’t get better down the road.

Convincing ourselves that it could.

Or that it would.

If only we tell in advance those flats cut, the heels break, the upper doesn’t stretch before we open up our…wallets. We could save ourselves some pain and heartache.

But then there are the hidden gems.

The sale shoe everyone over looked.

The fave pair, go-to boot that would never let you down.

The shoe you’ve repaired and put more money into after the fact than when you originally bought it.

The shoe that goes with everything.

The shoe that makes someone stop you and say: what a great match!

Those are the shoes we should be wearing.

They are the shoes who will stand with you, help you stay tall, keep you grounded, pointy in the right direction and well rounded, walk with you, run away with you, help you jump and soar.

They will support and keep you warm.

They will protect you from the storm.

They are good right down to the sole and up to your soul.

Don’t forget you have to take care of your shoes, if they are going to take care of you.

Protect them, appreciate them for what they can and cannot do.

After all shoes is only one part of the outfit.

Maybe the Cinderella had it right, leaving a shoe behind so that instead of looking for it, it finds you.

And when it does, it may not be a seamless fit right away, like it is in the fairy tales.

You might need some time to become comfortable with it.

And there is nothing wrong with that.

Just remember, that if the shoe fits: you must wear it

Wear it well.

Wear it with pride.

Wear it with love.

--KeishaBrown via VSB on waiting for "the one"

12.10.10

Mean Girls

Vibe recently released an article entitled “The Mean Girls of Morehouse”. If you haven’t read it, here’s the link: Mean Girls.

The title alone was enough to warrant a response from President Franklin. Link here.

I’m not going to summarize the article or the response, because I have a lot to say, and it’s better that you read it for yourselves than take my recapitulation as fact.

I’m not here to talk about whether the Plastics are victims or not. I’m here to explain why their reasoning and their actions are fundamentally opposed to each other, and why this Vibe article is nothing but the bitter backlash of [wo]men scorned. And just to clarify, when i say “you” I mean those, and only those, presented in the article. I am referring to them as a group.

First and foremost, the Plastics knew what they were getting into when they came to Morehouse. One of the facets of Morehouse society that its reputation is contingent upon is the school’s image. A component of said image is the student attire. They told you when you applied. They told you during NSO. They told you every week in Crown Forum that you’re expected to dress a certain way here. What, you thought you were going to get here and they were going to say, “Oh. They’re different. They don’t have to dress that way”? …No. You signed up for this. You or your parents paid for this. You can’t come here and decide suddenly that you don’t want one small part of what you came here for. Morehouse is what it is because it excels both at portraying a certain image, & molding its students to do the same. You can’t expect to gain those benefits without first adhering to the image yourself.

You say the dress policy is not universally, or justly applied. That is a bold-faced lie. I have witnessed several occasions in which those who are wearing hats or du-rags have been addressed, and those wearing heels and skirts have been overlooked, likely because those in a position to say anything about it are either clueless as to what to say, or too eager to avoid seeming to be intolerable. Which is a large part of why the dress policy was enforced in the first place. No one knew how to deal, so they needed rules. But I digress.

You’ve heard of the Morehouse mystique. If not before attending the school, then during. What made you believe that dressing as a woman fulfilled that mystique? How many guest speakers came to us in women’s attire? How many of your brothers did you see sauntering in heels on Spirit Night? Not one of the many bow-tie workshops we were offered had a side session for those of the purse carrying persuasion. To quote my friend Dante Miles, “It is impossible for you to live up to the expectations of a Morehouse Man if you want to be a WOMAN..”

Now that we’ve established that you were in no way tricked, scammed, bamboozled, hoodwinked, swindled, or anything of that nature; that you knew very well that you’d be ostracized once you got here, lets talk about your reasons for leaving.

You claimed to aspire to be a leader in the same vein as our illustrious alum. There’s a fundamental issue with what you said, and what you’ve done. Because what you’ve done is fled. The previous leaders of Morehouse didn’t flee from the establishment when they were restricted. They fought against it. You claim to want to be like the Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr., but you can’t even stay in a homophobic school. King couldn’t go anywhere without persecution. King went to jail for fighting against that persecution. You went to another admissions office.

If they came at you with dogs, firehoses, jail, etc, would you fight? Or transfer? You’re not a leader. All they did was tell you to change your clothes.

There is a distinct difference between a leader, and an attention hungry person. There are also many similarities. Both tend to think, and act, in unconventional ways. Both are apparently in attendance at Morehouse. The discrepancy comes, however, in the person’s nature. Whether that person embraces fight or flight determines whether or not they are a leader. Again, you are not fighting. You are fleeing. And whining.

What were your intentions when you spoke to Vibe? To let people know of your existence and what you’ve been through? Or to ask people to assist you in standing against what you’ve endured? I’ve read the article several times. I’ve found no plea for help. Only self-indulgent cries. Why tell Vibe that you’ve considered suicide? Morehouse hasn’t encouraged that in any way. Your suicidal notions are, again, a means of fleeing. And if you disagree, tell me. Which one of the alum that you wish to be like has committed suicide?

Yes, many of our alum’s actions were done for the sake of attention. But that attention served a higher purpose: the liberty and just treatment of a people. Your actions call for attention, yet ask for no resolution. You claim to want change, but are unwilling to facilitate it. I’m curious to know if you were one of those who participated in the sit-ins at Woodruff library my freshman year, or if you merely complained about it and fled to Douglass, or your room. I’m inclined to believe the latter. But again, I digress.

“I don’t know why a Morehouse man can’t become a woman.” The answer is quite simple. You are not a Morehouse Man until you graduate, which you have yet to do. You are a man of Morehouse who at one time aspired to be a Morehouse Man. To be a Morehouse Man is to reach the apex of the Morehouse matriculation experience. It is to embrace the Morehouse mystique in some way. It is to be a leader. Which, again, you are not. A Morehouse Man could, arguably, become a woman. But you are not a Morehouse Man.

I have no qualms with accepting your claims of wanting to change the world. But the ways in which you have gone about it are not indicative of that claim. In fact, you merely contributed to the detriment of an institution that has produced leaders you profess to admire. You are aiding and abetting the image of black men that those leaders fought so hard against. And, moreover, you’ve only made homophobia an even more pressing issue at Morehouse. What have you solved?! What have you done, besides initialize your own means of indulging in your own desires under the guise of righteous anger?!

If you want to make a change, work on altering the issues of gender expectations in our country. Make an effort to alter the ways in which our communities expect men to conduct themselves. But do not assert that you are fighting for change when in fact you ran from an ideal opportunity. Do not pick an easy target like Morehouse, which is already conservative as far as the make up of its student body goes, and then run away and complain to the press about the establishment that you did nothing to alter.

You say that Morehouse was not ready for you. Quite the contrary, my brothers. You were not ready for Morehouse.
--Silenthate. Lovescreams.

Pretty much. Well said. That is all.