The Blackgirl's Survival Guide

Emotional Warrior (LoveSucks)

2010-03-18T09:23:00.000-07:00

Although the heart is Empty
I will fill the page:

Emotional Warrior
Slay that heart for me,
I’ve been wounded in love
I wanna see that
Heart bleed.

Emotional Warrior
Come, come
Set my heart free
I feel so
Weary and trapped
I don’t wanna be me

Emtional Warrior
Take this pain from me
Take it &
Toss it
Into the wide
Empty Sea.

Emotional Warrior
Give me some of your strength
Give power & faith
Put life
Back into breath

Emotional warrior
Come
Please come
& rescue me
I’m in the middle of
Battle
A victory
I can not see

Emotional warrior
Gather my pieces of self
Put me back together
A wholeness
That is fed.

Emotional warrior
Make a fighter out of me
Take all my little losses
And turn them to victory.

Emotional Warrior
Help me
Help me break free
Break away forever
Break break
Away from me.

On the Outside...

2009-10-06T11:06:00.000-07:00

On the outside people see the attachments and assume happiness. But what is happiness? An absence of sadness? And isn't sadness needed: to put things into perspective?
I haven't been able to write lately.
I've been stuck in this space between childhood and adulthood, hesitating, holding onto the past like my life depended on it. After all, isn't that me?
The other day I said to someone that I am the same person today that I have always been.
What does that mean? they asked me.
I don't know.
It is what I am in the midst of finding out...

I'm a Very Angry Girl...

2009-08-29T03:20:00.000-07:00

When I was a child, I felt powerful through rage.
I wasn't in control of the fact that we moved a lot. I wasn't in control of my father's frustrations, alcoholism and substance abuse problems. I wasn't in control of my mother's unyielding loyalty to him (which I'm still conflicted about). I wasn't even in control of my father's very Caribbean methods of discipline. What I could control, or so I thought, was my power.
I found this power, at a very early age through fighting. Back in Brooklyn there was something that overruled fancy clothes, Ataris and adidas. It was being a badass. Although always small for my age, I took pride in the fact that I never backed down from a fight, in fact, I often sought them out. I rebelled, blindly, towards all that I, at the tender age of nine, had come to loathe: my family. I stopped listening to my mother, whose reaction, as with everything else, was passivity (which pushed me to such extremes-I just wanted her to draw the line! She never did.) I gave up on the notion that my father would ever learn to control his temper and stop beating us (by then I'd learned to stand up to him and numb my body to the lashes of his leather on my skin.). My sister, going through the complexities of her teenage years in a foreign land had, at 16, already left home (that too would be the age I threw in the towel), My brother, like me, stopped going to school, spent all his money on video games and learned to boost all the gear we couldn't afford, my mother, who now when I look back just couldn't cope had already lost my respect for staying with my father, and my father? I loved him so but he, quite unintentionally taught me that the only way I could survive was by becoming a bully. So this is the compass I debuted into my adult life with.
When I get angry I snap. Things I have done while angry: destroyed all my father's studio recordings. Thrown a bike down a flight of stairs. Attacked someone with my pocket book. Slapped a few people. Grabbed my son too hard. Destroyed many things--not least of all many relationships. Not smart, huh? But, I am a very angry girl. And it is time to work on this anger, to let go of this anger, to heal. Luckily I seem to have met the right circle of friends, be in the right job, be blessed with the most amazing son to point me in the intended direction. It is time for me to put down my anger, and forgive. And this time, I actually think I might know how.
And I know I must. When I look at pictures of my son, even from as far back to when he was three, there is a distinct furrow on his brow...the furrow is familiar: It is mine. How could a three year old have such an expression? He learned it from me. Just as I have learned my anger from my father. It is no cliche that these things are passed on...and I must, must, for the sake of my child, teach him that it is never too late to change. And I am blessed. So blessed, to be given the opportunity to not only identify my weaknesses, but also, to do something about them. And this is how I will survive. Not through anger. But through compassion, understanding. I will live life beyond survival mode: I am not that angry 9 year-old anymore. I am an amazing woman, with an amazing life and I will not let anyone, not even my irrational anger, destroy it.

2009-02-18T10:06:00.000-08:00

Before she married, she thought she was in love; but the happiness that should have resulted from that love, somehow had not come. It seemed to her that she must have made a mistake, have misunderstood in some way or another. And Emma tried hard to discover what, precisely, it was in life that was denoted by the words "joy, passion, intoxication," which had always looked so fine in her books.
--Gustave Flaubert, Madame Bovary (1857)

2009-01-07T12:31:00.000-08:00

Thanks KG for passing along this Audre Lorde quote:

"we have to consciously study how to be tender with each other until it becomes habit because what was native has been stolen from us, the love of black women for each other. but we can practice being gentle with ourselves by being gentle with that piece of ourselves that is hardest to hold, by giving more to the brave bruised girlchild within each of us, by expecting a little less from her gargantuan efforts to excel. we can love her in the light as well as in the darkness, quiet her frenzy toward perfection and encourage her attentions toward fulfillment. maybe then we will come to appreciate more how much she has taught us, and how much she is doing to keep this world revolving toward some livable future....it would be ridiculous to believe that this process is not lengthy and difficult. it is suicidal to believe it is not possible."

Identity

2008-12-26T03:04:00.000-08:00

"As a woman I want no country. As a woman my country is the whole world."
Mary Daly, Pure Lust

2008-12-25T02:26:00.001-08:00

Camus

2008-12-04T04:46:00.000-08:00

Thanks Debbie for this:

"One of the temptations of the artist is to believe himself solitary,
and in truth he hears this shouted at him with a certain base
delight. But this is not true. He stands in the midst of all, in the
same rank, neither higher nor lower, with all those who are working
and struggling. His very vocation, in the face of oppression, is to
open the prisons and to give voice to the sorrows and joys of all.
This is where art, against its enemies, justifies itself by proving
precisely that it is no one's enemy. By itself art could probably not
produce the renascence which implies justice and liberty. But without
it, that renascence would be without forms and, consequently, would be
nothing. Without culture, and the relative freedom it implies,
society, even when perfect, is but a jungle. This is why any
authentic creation is a gift to the future." -- The Myth of Sisyphus

The Original Black Mother

2008-11-03T10:14:00.000-08:00

"Culture is people's own vision of themselves in relation to the world, created by themselves through a blood-continuity of time and space. Political invasion, via cultural colonialism, weakens the creative will of the conquered by destroying the people's coherent vision of themselves. Guns, police, and the invader's law help in this process; but imposition of alien cultural symbols and religious ideas are the most effective tools, in the long run, for obliterating or distorting a people's self-image--because they are aimed at the most intimate parts of human beings: sex and the spirit."
--From the Chapter entitled, The Original Black Mother, in the book The Great Cosmic Mother: Rediscovering the Religion of the Earth by Monica Sjoo and Barbara Mor

What Kind of Women Are You?

2008-08-26T10:27:00.000-07:00

Do you wear
rollers & slippers
to the
grocery store
do you smoke cigarettes
do yoga
drink beer
or wine?

Do you believe in
the power of love or
eat the fast food of
hate
that permeates?

Do you have the courage
to say no to that?

Do you shine
when others
shine

or

get suicidal
when
the attention
ain't
on you?

are you beautiful
only if others
are ugly
or can all
reside in your heart?

Do you fill the hole
in your soul
through
cash register
rings

or

have you committed
to a little shopping there
and some self-confrontation here?

Do you seek the validation
of a man's gaze

Is it easy for you
to help others
or do you shrug
them off & blame
them for thier own
predicament, you know,
she made her own bed...

does womanhood
look one way to you
or have you accepted the
multitude of
possibilities
inherent in the word?
from raising other people’s
Babies
To avenging
Rapists?

Is there room for
high heels
bare feet
sneakers
sandals
jeans
slacks
skirts
shorts
wild hair
tame hair
bright colors
shy colors
children
pets
husbands, stay at home moms
career moms
lovers...

what kind of woman are you?
Do you humbly bow
your head each morning
as your feet touches the ground
and
thank the universe/god/goddess
or
whomever
you give
credit to
for all of this:
for your health
your friends
your family
your food
your roof

In short,
are you the kind of woman
who has realized
how blessed you are?

UltravioletUnderground: Indiefied- Lesley Ann Brown's The Organist's Daughter (Bandit Queen Press)

2008-06-10T06:57:00.000-07:00

UltravioletUnderground: Indiefied- Lesley Ann Brown's The Organist's Daughter (Bandit Queen Press)

Heroes

2008-06-08T11:53:00.001-07:00

Watch out--Heroes abound. You will not however, find them in the most available of mediums (t.v., magazines or blogs). Look into what seems to be the ordinary and you will undoubtedly find the extra-ordinary.

More Reflections on Rule #1

2008-05-20T12:37:00.000-07:00

I started doing something last year that I thought I’d never do: I started to tend plants.
It all started with a cactus which was given to me as a Christmas present. At first it seemed like one of those gesture gifts: given perfunctorily, and it probably was. But then, the plant did something I had never witnessed a cactus do before: It flowered.
After a year of sitting absently in my apartment, pink buds started to push forth from little black knobs on the tips of its leaves.
It got me to thinking about a few things. It got me to thinking about that old adage, you know, the one about don’t judge a book by its cover? It got me to thinking about surprises from the most unlikely of places and how much having this flowering cactus in my house uplifted me.
It got me to thinking about many of our ancestors who had to work Sun up and Sun down and who had to tend their own gardens in between working 6-7 days a weeks, in order to have but a little extra to eat. It made me a bit more connected to the relationship between us as human beings and the earth we have sometimes covered with concrete and littered with our indestructible gadgets.
See, I’m a city girl, a girl who can’t even name flowers even if they grew with signs. But this flowering cactus was enough to make me decide to get a few more flowering plants. On cue, a moving colleague gifted me with 3 geranium plants (I think that’s what they are!) and although I’m far from being a seasoned gardener, they have fared quite well for over a year now. And you know what? So have I.
The geraniums came from a well respected colleague with the instructions, “Let the soil dry out a bit and then water with food once a week. They love that.” Funnily enough, unlike so many other things in my life, I have managed to do this. You know why? It was because someone took the time to tell me how to take care of these plants. See, sometimes the obvious isn’t so obvious—sometimes the reason we may not excel at doing something is simply because we do not know how. That’s where teachers, true life teachers, step in. We’re all students and teachers in life: Knowing when we’re which one at different times is a good skill to learn. No one knows everything!
Taking care of these plants is a big accomplishment for me, because every time I take the time to tend to these plants, I feel like I’m taking the time to tend to me. If I’m too busy to take care of these plants, it means, in some tangible way, I’m neglecting myself. A dehydrated plant, strangely enough, reflects the fact that I’m probably not being too good to myself. Am I remembering to drink enough water? Am I taking the time to stretch? Am I spending the time to do the things I must do to remain centered, like—yes, tend to my plants?
I like clearing the dead leaves from the soil. I like watering them. I like the way the green fills up my windowpane and how it foils the blazing blue of the sky.
Tending to these plants has made me think about my own life: If I was a plant, who or what waters me? Or better yet, what do I water myself with? Nourishes me? If I surround myself with healthy people and things, surely I am fortified as well? What if I surround myself with heavy, negative people? Do they, in turn, poison my soil? What if I surround myself with people who inspire me to be my best (the most patient of gardeners, the master gardener, the gardener I strive to be)? If I hang out with other, expert gardeners (I use this as a loose metaphor, insert anything you like ) am I not bound to learn new techniques that will help me become a better gardener? Remember: When the student is willing the Master appears.
Conversely, I must strive to contribute positively to those budding flowers around me as well—I must be to others what I wish them to be to me. Am I encouraging my peers? Am I present with my son i.e. being there with him, when we are together and not worrying about my phone bill? Am I interacting sincerely with the woman who mops the floors at my job? Am I fertilizing those around me? Am I engaged?
Through my plants, I have learned to weed the negative images and energy out of my life. I have found that it is very easy to moan about my life, be unhappy with myself and dis the majority of those around me if I surround myself with people, with images, that do the same. Conversely, I find that I am elevated and experiences vibrations so positive that I experience a buzz when I surround myself with images and people who look at what is going right in their lives, who encourage me to be true to myself, who challenge me lovingly, who support me and my efforts.
This is my fertilizer.

Look around you.
What do you see? Or more importantly, what do you NOT see? Make a list, mental or otherwise, of the things that make you feel good, not in a quick-fix way, but in a long-term, this-experience-is-fertilizing-my-soul-kind-of-way.

Make a list of those things or situations that make you feel bad. Don’t glaze over them. Spend some time wondering, “What is it about this particular exchange that de-centers me? That makes me uncomfortable?” “Is it me, my insecurities, or is this person projecting their issues on me?” Sometimes it’s difficult to tell, but one of the traits of a true student of Life is the willingness to look at yourself as harshly as you sometimes look at others. I say harshly, but please add a good dose of lovingly in their as well. I always try to talk to myself in the way I talk to my son, or how my grandmother talks to me—with a voice full of love and understanding. It is not until we can treat ourselves in this way that we can begin to treat each other in this way.

No matter where you, chances are, it's pretty difficult to find images that affirm (y)our beauty, that fertilize your soul. Just like I enjoy looking out my window at my plants, I enjoy looking out over the landscape of my life at those I hold dear to me: the array of flowering human beings who although not perfect (who is?) are committed to being better human beings and demand the same from me.

Sometimes what we see around us is not a reflection of (y)our soul. Not being able to see your Self, or recognize a part of your Self in the media or in your immediate surroundings is a subtle sort of abuse, a cultural amputation, a poisoning of your soil.

It is important that we recognize ourselves in the books we read, the magazines we peruse, the movies we watch. This is fertilizer.

A healthy dose of diverse representation is but one of the things our world needs.

The Remedy: Surround yourselves with images that remind you of who you are, who we are at our best. Include images that tap into the very best of our successes. And let every step we make be in Grace with a commitment to peace within and without. Smile, and watch your inner and outer flowers grow.

Rule #1: Surround Your Self With Images that Affirm (Y)our Beauty

2008-05-17T07:22:00.000-07:00

Desiring Ourselves: Experimental short film, engaging the Black Body Archive (by Mireille Miller-Young, UC Santa Barbara)....

The Image is Mightier than the Sword.

Look around you.
What do you see? Or more importantly, what do you NOT see?
No matter where you, chances are, it's pretty difficult to find images that affirm (y)our beauty.
Is this a mistake?
An oversight?

Chances are what you see is not a reflection of (y)our soul. Not being able to see your Self, or recognize a part of your Self in the media or in your immediate surroundings is a subtle sort of abuse, a cultural amputation.

It is important that we recognize ourselves in the books we read, the magazines we peruse, the movies we watch.

A healthy dose of diverse representation is but one of the things our world needs.

The Remedy: Surround yourselves with images that remind you of who you are, who we are at our best. Include images that tap into the very best of our successes.

Welcome Ya'll!

2008-05-14T09:52:00.000-07:00

Ok ya'll--the best way to get even, the best way to make your life more in line with what you want is to get creative, and this, my latest blog endeavor is exactly that! I mean, I've been traveling ever since I was 3, been having to deal with a lot of people's different cultural views, my own shortcomings along with others', been living almost 10 years now in a country VERY foreign (Denmark) from where I'm from (Brooklyn) and still, I stand.
At times, Life, not to mention living in a foreign country, isn't easy, and sometimes, I must admit, I feel like, "That's it! I'm going home!" But that's when it gets kind of tricky 'cause, like you, I've realized that home is where the challenge is: But sometimes, we need help!
This blog is in response to my need for a set of instructions, a compass, a guidebook on how to navigate, with poise and integrity, the many different personalities and cultural views we encounter not only around the world,in foreign countries, but in LIFE!
The Blackgirl's Survival Guide is my gift to you: Hopefully, it'll make your life, a little more peaceful (if not more entertaining!)
Peace & Blessings,
Blackgirl on Mars