CHRISTIANA HARRELL

Surviving Seattle: Love, friendship, weather, and depression

3/14/2019

I’ve been working on this blog since last year. Okay, so maybe not actually writing it, but thinking about. The Northwest is an interesting place and one day while taking a long bus ride (522) home in the rain, I laughed thinking about the fact that I have survived here (kind of) being loud and Southern. If you’ve never lived here then you are about to learn how those two things stick out.

I moved to Washington State in 2014 after a poor decision to get married. I lived in a city called Lacey, which was literally a stop light from Olympia. It rained a bit and I never saw snow, so I figured this place might not be so bad. The worst thing about where I was, was probably the mushroom factory. It made the entire city smell like open ass and shame. It’s safe to say that candles and me had a close relationship.

Fast forward to eight months later. My ex-wife had done some bullshit and decided a new house would be a new start, so we moved to Puyallup, Washington, which is a bit further North. I loved this area and loved my house even more. I was dead smack in the middle of everything and it didn’t take me an hour to get to Seattle for poetry on Tuesday nights. I didn’t have to get on I-5 (which is the traffic devil), if I didn’t want to. I got to fall asleep to the sounds of frogs in the pond in the backyard and the weather was doable. It didn’t snow (much) and the rain didn’t stop my show. What I did have to deal with was a year or so of marital problems and misery. My escape was Seattle. I’d drive there because the grungy looking city reminded me of home with its clutter and art. I loved Pike Place. Still do. I said to myself that I probably wouldn’t mind living there. Things always seem so nice from the outside, right?

So in May of 2016, I’d pack my shit and leave the whole state and my wife behind.

I’d return in December 2017 to be with my now Said Lover who I’d met in 2015 and started dating in 2016: story for another day. She lived in Seattle. She’d shown me a lot about the city, but my brain went in circles because there were so many places, from Sodo to Westlake, Belltown, Othello, The CD, Columbia City, Beacon Hill, Chinatown (NOT international district, fuck you to the white boy that tried to correct me. I said what I said), U-District, Capital Hill, South Lake Union (fuck Jeff Besos)… the list literally goes on. I actually know most of these places now and can drive them without GPS. GO ME!

Now let’s get into the nitty-gritty. How the fuck does one survive here?

Buy rain boots and snow boots. I’m serious.
Buy a raincoat or waterproof coat. It’s rains in fucking winter. (www.thenorthface.com) I paid $95.00 for a jacket, but it was worth every penny. It’s keeps me warm and dry and it has pockets that button to protect my cell phone.
Get an Orca card, even if you drive, because parking is a whole bitch. Concerts, pride, football games, just ride the train homie. Leave your car at home. If you are someone who is used to driving, like me, this will probably not sound appealing. My boujee ass was not a fan at first, but the transportation is immaculate. I can write or read, text, talk on my phone, or take a nap while I ride and someone else pays attention. They can lower that $2.75 price, but it’s Seattle so... I digress. Everything here is high as fuck, which brings me to my next survival tip.
Right now you need to make at least 24.02 to live here. So you have a few options. Get two jobs, get a damn good job, get a sugar mama/daddy, get a roommate, live with a gf/bf/friend, or get a studio. No matter what, you will be forced to live in a box, because it’s the way apartments here are built. I’ve become a minimalist. Yes, me. The girl that loves to fill a house from wall-to-wall with shit I swear I need. I still have more clothes and shoes than necessary and that will never change.
Cars. Let me reiterate that parking is a whole bitch. So much so that they capitalize on it. Apartment complexes charge anywhere from 25-175 for one parking space. Yes, the place where you already pay rent will charge you just to turn off your car and let it sit for eight hours. It’s a sin and a shame. It’s like pay us or shoot your shot with street parking, which is literally a hunger games movie. Parking is by zone, which means you need a sticker in your window that matches that zone if you plane to be there longer than 2 hours before 6PM. Oh, the sticker cost money, too. I wish this was a joke.
This one is for my radical black people. Be very careful who you date. There are like ten black people here and even less if they are gay. You get one shot to get it right. Everyone will know. Everyone. Even if they say nothing, they know. And if you’re like me, you’ll just kind of be on the outside staring at them, while they stare at you. My other options right now are to date a friend, date a friend of an ex, date the ex of an ex, date the enemy of an ex, keep fucking an ex, date someone outside of my race, or masturbate. Cold world. Masturbation for 100 Alex because everyone knows my ex. I think I’ll just move in November. *nods* Somebody give me the scoop on Denver, Vegas, Texas, and/ or Arizona. I got questions.
Black people here aren’t like black people in the South. Don’t come here expecting them to be the same. They aren’t. They are passive aggressive, some let their white friends use the “N” word, and they hang out like cliques in high school. Find yourself two good friends and live. If you’re lucky you’ll find more. Just know that once you find your people this place is that much more enjoyable. My people keep moving away, but I love them anyway and I get why they had had enough. I’m hanging in there. Barely, but I’m doing it and I deserve a back rub and food.
You will see the same people at every event and the events aren’t always that great. Everyone here seems to think they are creative and you’ll go and be underwhelmed by the mediocrity. Hey, if they like it, I love it. I will say that I have seen a few impressive things here, but not enough to keep me fed.
Don’t even waste your time going to a strip club. They don’t serve alcohol and the strippers don’t show much of anything. Save your coins and take trips to Atlanta and Miami.
Lesbian clubs for women of color… nope. They have all dated each other and seem to dislike one another, so no one really supports each other. And they definitely don’t support outsiders.
Clubs that play trap music… rare. Drive to Lakewood or Tacoma. Bring a gun.
Buy a sun lamp. A gay guy here told me this one and I wish I’d known this sooner. I suffer from depression. Been suffering from it since I was a child. The sun really helps with this and this place does not have a lot of that with damn near 186 days of rain or snow.
People here are homeless. Accept it. Do it now, otherwise you will be like me every time you see a tent or beggar. I’m either digging in my wallet for cash to assist or on the verge of tears. I’m going to get a hotel for someone for a week. I’ve added that to my list of things to do in my thoughts to do more. I also want to give someone a coat and a haircut or style. I just want to do more because each time I see someone struggling in these streets I ache and realize that I am so fortunate.
Follow event pages on Facebook because if you don’t, you will never hear about anything. I don’t know who does the advertising here, but they suck ass. DVSN was here and I found out by walking past the venue they were playing at while I was taking a lunch break. The tickets were sold out and I was pissed.
Interracial dating is the norm, so don’t be surprised if you find yourself being catcalled by an asian or white boy and all his friends.
Protest happen often. It fucks up traffic more and there are more white people marching than blacks. It’s kind of hilarious, too. I watch it from my bed. I don’t march. Ever. Let me know when we’re actually fucking shit up for change and I’m there.
Black nail techs, hair salons, and hair stores are hard to find. Join Seattle Naturals on Facebook.
Do the basic shit: Pike Place, ride the Ferris wheel, ride ferries, visit the islands, dine in the Space Needle, do the outlet malls, do the underground tours, see Mt. Rainier, do hikes and all the outdoor shit, eat all the food, go to Alki beach, do everything.
Be careful with Uber, Ubereats, lyft, and all that convenient shit, because it cost. You’ll be booking that shit left and right and wondering where your money went. It went to taxes and booking fees. Blame yourself.
And lastly, if you can’t drive on hills, like me, just avoid them all together. Them shits will have your anxiety acting up in ways that you never thought possible. Oh, and gas is high AF. Get a Costco card.

That’s all folks!

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The Higher Self

2/28/2019

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We all want to be better people. No. I take that back, because I’m not sure the R. Kelly’s and Ted Bundy’s of the world think that way. So… some of us want to be better people. We want to operate as our “highest selves.” The problem with this, is that it’s just a term until you define it. You have to know what makes you low in order to elevate. I’ve done a lot of isolating, crying, meditating, day drinking, I mean, dreaming, and analyzing to pinpoint my vibrations.

SUN----MOON----RISING

This one is going to be a doozy so bear with me.

Let’s talk about my lower self, because yes I’ve been there. I feel that when it comes to who I am I’m always operating in a grey area. I’m such a I give what I get type of person that it’s hard for me to stay either up or down. My goal is to always, always take the high road, but some people really make you sit your crystals down. It’s okay to let people know when they have you fucked up.

What is your sun? It’s your ego, identity, “role” in life. It’s the core of who you are. (Co--Star app)

Me? Yes, I can be possessive, more with things than people, because well I’ve suffered great loss. I get tired of losing so I hold onto the things that mean something to me. I hold them even if they make me bleed. Am I working on this? It’s not at the top of my list.

Am I clinging? I can be. With people, because when I love, I LOVE. I want you everywhere with me all the time even if it’s in silence. I’d probably bring my partner to work with me if I could. I know that this is unrealistic, because people have to have their own lives. Maybe this is why I’ve been so successful with Pisces. They have no issues making you the center of their world. They are the most adaptable people in the world. It’s crazy. Still too much of that can be a bad thing. Too much of anything can be a bad thing.

Overly jealous. Mmm, no. Jealousy is dangerous. It kills. I can't imagine being someone always hating what someone has just because I don't have it. I can’t imagine being so bothered that I’d do anything to take that away from them. Who am I to say they don’t deserve it? Have I had jealous feelings? Of course. Do I still have them now and again? Yes, because I’m human, but I check myself. Jealousy is a personal problem and up to you and you alone to figure out why that feeling found a place inside of you. However, I will admit that I’m territorial as fuck. Like a dog. Come near something of mine and I will probably, literally bite you. I’m so damn protective and the way my trust us set up… yeah. I’m loyal to a fault. I’m such a “if my girl or friends don’t fuck with you then I don’t fuck with you” type of person. I let my last Said Lover compromise this about myself, because her loyalty, to me, was faulty. I don’t want to have conversations about who did what, when, where, and why. You associate with people who I don’t like then I’ll just be territorial with myself and keep my distance from all you niggas. Period. I shouldn't’ have to ask anybody to choose. If you even have to think about it or make excuses, that says enough. Don’t pick me. Don’t expect to be picked by me either.

I’m not even going to sit here and flesh out “refuses to open up and speak about their emotions.” I’m an open blog/book. It’s the people that I deal with that seem to have a problem. I’m done twisting on doorknobs, knocking and tugging. If you want me to see your heart, cool. If not, fuck you. Let’s not waste our time. K.

Apprehensive about falling in love and becoming vulnerable. No and more no. I love, love. I am love. I am the heart chakra. I just am. I have my moments in life where I feel burned and bitter, but I blame that on the ain’t shit people that I’ve chosen for myself. Love has not changed and it never will. Leave love out of this. I’ll always, always be willing to fall and become vulnerable with a person who is deserving and it’s the right time. My three deal breakers: don’t lie to me, don’t talk shit behind my back, don’t involve another bitch. You’ll regret it. Otherwise, there is nothing like a perfectly timed love.

I’m headstrong. I’m not going to argue. Who doesn’t like to have their way? I’ve accepted when I don’t. Sort of.

Resistant to change. Funny. I used to hate change. I still do, but again it’s a grey area. I like slow, gradual change. I’m just not a rip the band-aid off type of girl. This conversation would be different with my moon and rising. Do you see my struggle? Okay. Because I will pack up, quit my job, move across the country, then silently suffer while I figure it out. I don’t know.

I’m not shy. I’m not reserved. I am observant. That is all.

Reject me, I don’t care. Some people hate me, some people want me to sit on their face while I sing them a song. It’s life. This is where I can sometimes be okay with not getting my way.

I. Am. Not. A. LAZY. WOMAN. Do I have lazy days? Absofuckinglutely. Sometimes I am in full sleep and eat all day mode. I’ll pick a show on Hulu and/or Netflix and do absolutely nothing. ALL DAY. But, when it’s time to grind and chase this bag, I’m on it. Can’t be broke. Won’t be broke. I ain’t dating you if you broke. Should have caught me in my 20’s. Even when I’m down, I’m not, because my pride won’t allow it.

Insensitive. Yes. My sensitivity is most certainly selective depending on the circumstance. Another grey area.

Grudges? I hold them. Show me a bull that doesn’t and I’ll show you someone full of shit. I’m not Jesus and owe nobody my forgiveness. I have gotten to a place in life where I can be cordial with people who have done me wrong, but they will never have my trust enough to fuck me over again. Ever.

Better at sustaining what others have started, rather than starting things themselves. Nah. I’m a boss. I create other bosses and never ask for a thing in return, but maybe a shoutout and dinner. I know people that I don’t speak about and I can get shit done when I want to.

Yes, I am critical. I’m working on this. It’s not what you say it’s how you say it, Christiana.

I am right all the time or at least I like to believe that I am. I know in reality that I’m not. I remain teachable. Feed me. Give me knowledge. That’s sexy.

Treats people or objects as possessions. I do. Scorpios, Virgos, and Cancers don’t mind. Problem solved. Well, not really, because I don’t too much care to date any of them. Maybe if they are developed enough. Maybe.

Can be lead but never pushed. I have a problem with this one. Being pushy is actually toxic AF. I’m pushy and I’m trying to stop being that way. One, because it’s not my job to make you ambitious. Two, because sometimes it’s just too aggressive and some people just aren’t ready to thrive. I have an understanding that everything I want is on the opposite side of fear, so that means taking leaps of faith and failing forward, if necessary. Not all people think this way. They are more calculated and they feel pressured when pushed. So, guess what? I’m learning to leave motherfuckers in my dust and run with people who want to run with me.

Wolves eat sheep.

Don’t push, encourage.

My opinions are mine. I choose to deal with people who have like-minded views. That’s it.

What is your moon? It rules your emotions, moods, and feelings. It reflects your personality when you’re alone and deeply comfortable.

I’m happy to announce that my moon is pretty much developed.

I am friendly. Ask all the strangers that I talk to daily.

I try to be as a original/unique as humanly possible. I like my lane and I stay in it.

Hella intuitive. Lie to someone else. I’ll know. Pretend to be a good person with someone else. I’ll know.

So broad-minded. Pro-choice, pro-hoe, pro-minding my own fucking business so I don’t have time to judge you on yours. If you want to share, I give great advice. I’ll always encourage anyone to live their best life. Even people that i’m romantically interested in. Don't let me be a hindrance to what you define as freedom. I’m a bull and will huff and puff, but I’ll let you go. Thank my moon.

Non-conforming. Me. Fuck patriarchy.

Independent. All the way. I mean feel free to pay a bill or two. I’ll even slide you the cheaper ones. I also accept food and spa days. Still independent.

Freedom loving. Yes.

Super unusual. I’m a whole mood, a vibe. Get to know me.

Helpful.

Super practical. Logical, too.

This one is huge. Yes, I seek to share knowledge with others in order to bring a better life for all. FOR FREE. I got fairy dust in my pockets and unicorns and mermaids are my best friends, even though I’m a witch.

I rock ‘group’ anything. Put me in coach.

Yes, yes, I help others so they can help themselves. On every level. Certain people can’t ask me for money, but they know why.

Humanity: I want to feed the hungry and provide shelter for all that are homeless. I do. I do a lot of silent humanitarian work that I don’t talk about. I can’t show up physically, but it’s not an excuse.

I donate to breast cancer walks since I haven’t done one since 2014. I’m going to fix that.
I send money to families for Christmas. In 2016 a young girl just needed a coat. Last year I sent money for an entire family.
I donated money to a boys club in New Orleans to get young boys their own footballs.
I randomly buy gifts on Amazon from people’s wish list
I sent bottled water to Flint.
I gave a random person $50 for Valentine’s Day
At the Safeway across the street from me, a man couldn't pay for Milk and Cereal. I added it to my bill.
I like to buy people in line behind me food in hopes that they pay it forward.
I just gave 90% of my wardrobe to a women’s shelter.
I give a lot of my books away for free, because I care more about people reading than making money.

I can sit here all day with a list of shit I do because I love to, because this world is strange and fucked up and needs more kindness. I do things because I’m fortunate and I recognize it. I always want to do more. I want to deal with people who do more. I’m working on that.

Philosophical.

Visionary.

Determined.

Persistent.

Analytical.

All me.

And it is true that I will NOT attend an argument unless I feel passionately about the subject. Always ready to defend what’s right. I actually don’t mind polite debate.

What is your rising?It’s your “mask.” It’s what you present to others. Your personal style. Mine: independent, optimistic, confident, overly blunt, and critical.

The end.

I said all of this to say that operating in your higher self is all about checks and balances. I identify those things about myself that could use more of my love and dig to the root of it. Nine times out of ten it’s tied to conditioning, bad parenting, a habit I picked up from a toxic partner, and/or childhood trauma. Unlearning and healing will be two of the hardest things you will ever do in your life, but I can assure you it’s worth it. You feel different, you stop seeing flesh and you start to see souls. People’s decisions will make more sense to you, even when they hurt you. A higher-self is an awareness. An understanding.

Get to know you. Be gentle with yourself. Take your time. Success is directly tied to knowing yourself.

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The Real Princess Tiana

2/22/2019

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I reconnected with an old friend. She’s been a part of my life for over a decade. Low-key I’ve always been overprotective of her because her mind and heart are absolutely beautiful. She’s supported me and loved me unconditionally for a long time. I honestly can’t really explain our relationship or connection but those rare times in life when we get a moment to pause from our real lives, we share intellect. I can always speak from the most honest part of myself and be met with love. I aspire to be more like her. Another toxic blog coming to you soon.

Today she asked me two questions because we always talk about our love lives or lack thereof. She specifically asked if I have a Said Lover--thank you for letting me know you read my blogs. I appreciate you. My answer felt too complicated when it should have flat out just been 'no.' I do not have a Said Lover. All there is, is a person I’m “kicking it” with. Why that term? Because, well, relationship is a strong word and there are several things I need before I say I’m in one. This person is not proving those things and I need to stop behaving like I’m off the market (still not on the market) for someone who only exist in my life for food and movies. Of course, it’s much more complicated than that, but you get the point. I’m SINGLE.

Said Lover and I also don’t have the best or most stable history. My brain won’t give me peace with some of the things she’d said and done, which makes me unforgiving. I struggle with being one of those women that make excuses. You know, “At least she never cheated,” forcing myself to accept a lesser of many evils. For what? I don’t know if she doesn’t cheat. I don’t know what she does, and that in itself is problematic for someone like me. I can’t say confidently that she would never do (insert fuckboi shit) to me.

She did and now my brain constantly says she still is and will do it again. It’s just a feeling I have in my gut. It nags. Trust a liar to lie. Trust a cheater to cheat. I notice everything a person does and I stay silent. I let them lie to my face about it and make sure to keep myself guarded from their shit. Shout out to my Ex-wife for being trash and teaching me how to spot manipulation.

I was getting a bit comfortable with our situation but a quick trip to see my family and a few slaps brought me back to reality. Seeing my sister with her girlfriend always reminds me to give what I get. Their love is quite inspiring.

I trust three people 100% with all of who I am: my sister, my best friend Bee, and my best friend Chi.

My longtime friend’s second question was what would my fairytale be? This came after I stated that I wanted my loyalty and dedication matched. I said I want my fairytale. Fairytales get a lot of flack for pretty much all being toxic and ending the same, but on the brighter side they each have their own storyline and just want love in the form that works for them.

They tell you not to tell people what you want because they can pretend to be that, but at the same time if they know nothing, how can they love you properly? We are all imperfect people and we have to be taught how to love people in the way they receive love. So here is my fairytale.

My want list:

Trustworthy. If I don’t trust you, I will NOT want you. No trust = no love. I also want to be trustworthy. I still have yet to be in a relationship where I can take the lock off of my phone or give them my lock code. I don’t even do the phone searching thing, but just giving it away without concern would be a nice option, but I know they’d have something in theirs to end it all. Ignorance is bliss, eh.
Be my best friend, but in being that when I have an issue with you, YOU are the person that I can vent to about you and you don’t take it as an attack. #communication Tell me about me, too.
Layered because forever is a long time. I’m patient enough to peel down to the root, even if it takes until death. There are those girls that ask your favorite color. I’m the girl that wants to know why that color in particular?
Simple, but complex.
Mysterious, but not secretive. Mystery is just unknown. Secret is intention and that can be bad.
They understand duality: a sophisticated ratchet.
They know women can’t be hoes.
Honest, even if it’s brutal. Don’t let me find out anything from someone else. That’s the worst. It’s the deal breaker.
Romantic (hopelessly). Lets be extravagant. I’ll even do Valentine’s Day. Let’s buy flowers and just because cards and candy. Let’s light candles for no reason at all. Lets dress alike. Lets do all the cheesy shit. I’m down.
Adventurous, because sometimes I’m not, but I will follow you to the edge of the Earth.
Radically pro black. RADICALLY. I can’t blow up buildings by myself or take down racism and patriarchy alone. Rage more.
Submissive and dominant. I, too, am equally both. I say often that I’m a stud in girl clothes. Sometimes in boy clothes. I guess you gotta love all of who I am, huh?
Creative. What I mean by this is can I bounce ideas off of you? Will your imagination expand to a place that can tell me if maybe I need to dig deeper. Do you dig deep for yourself? Creativity is a part of building things together. Let’s build.
Has healthy friendships and boundaries (blog soon)
Understands their own toxic shit because I know mine.
Understands their childhood traumas and are working through them constantly and consistently.
Has to be my biggest fan because I’m going to be theirs. If you don’t show me off like Russell shows off Ciara and her art in real life and on social media, just exit now fam. And yes, I can hear the social media uproar about it not being a big deal. Maybe in MySpace days, but times have changed. Most friendships and relationships are formed online this day in age. Everything I do for my career is social media driven. It matters. I also love to share my love so if doing that makes you feel like your have a standard that is unreachable set for you then I’m not for you. I love putting my love on a pedestal. You are a god with a goddess. Behave as such. Also, ALSO, couples get paid online just for being in love and being themselves. Understand this.
Selfless because I give all of myself until broken. I don’t want that again. I want reciprocation. I want alchemy.
I want someone that my family and friends will love because there is nothing worse than tension between family, friends, and lovers with you smack in the middle.
Monogamous. While I’m sure I could do the whole poly thing, I’ve accepted my learned behavior. I like the idea of one person at a time and sharing everything with them. All my love, time, and attention. I joke a lot about finding celebrities attractive and whatnot, but trust and believe I am only obsessed with my lover. They are the only person I actually want touching me and in my space when I'm not being loner Taurus. If I met half of the people that I joke about, I’d be awkward as fuck. The person I’m in love with is the center of my world, which is why I crash so hard if it ends.
I want someone spiritual. I don't do religion. At all. This means learning crystals with me, studying African spirituality. Meditation. Run me that birth time. If you ask why, you are automatically disqualified.
A health fanatic that is also a foodie. I can’t even explain this one to you lol. I am who I am and I like what I like.
I need a listener for my talkative days and a talker for my silent days. Be my balance.
I shouldn’t even have to say this because who doesn't want someone that’s good in bed? Yeah, okay.

I want my fairytale.

My love fairytale is old school. Its mixtapes, going steady, holding books through hallways, walking you home just to spend more time with you and make sure your safe. It’s handwritten love letters and sitting on the phone sharing war stories until 3am, saying no you hang up until four. My love is coats over puddles for you to step on, holding you hand while you walk down steps in heels. My love is coming to the door to knock or ring the doorbell for your company, not blowing the horn to wait for you to come outside. My love is looking forward to a kiss at the end of the date because we had such a good time that you earned it. We earned it. My love is not caring who text first because text are new school, so like fuck that, call me. My love is telling you exactly how I feel and doing way too much because I want you to know that I’m into you. I don’t need these games or dating rules. It’s VCRs and cassette tapes. It’s the original Nintendo and floor model TVs.

There is no grey area in what I wish to give or receive and I shall keep my love to myself until it’s worth releasing. I never wanted to do kid alone because I watched my Mom do it, but I’m okay with it now. Solo trips, masturbation, and worshipping myself. I’m so down that it makes no sense.

And yes, I do understand that there are things that have to test you and I’m okay with that.

I sit and think about how I stayed in a relationship for five years with the same person and how I can do it again but longer some day. Honestly, she and I had the best communication. She didn’t mind hurting me with the truth. She never robbed me of my choice. She never found joy in her bad decisions. Sometimes if I got silent, she’d randomly apologize for hurting me assuming that’s what my distance meant. Even if that wasn’t the reason, I appreciated her acknowledgment. There was no such thing as a mad day. She’d pick a place, typically by water and we’d go sit and talk through the discomfort until we were back in a decent space. She never allowed me to feel jealous or insecure about anyone or anything. People wanted us. They wanted us a part to have their turn. Our foundation was so solid. Put her in a room full of available beautiful women and she’d stare at me and me back at her. Trust me, it happened. I think she was the first woman to place me on the same pedestal that I placed her on. We were equals. Partners. We never even made a decision without each other.

I’m a stubborn one, so I can remember trying to sleep on the sofa some nights when I called myself being mad about something. She would squeeze her 6 foot something ass right on the sofa with me because sleeping without each other and as not an option. We had the same love language so I never had to explain what I needed. We did EVERYTHING together and wanted all of the same things. She was my best friend. We started out that way.

Maybe I should shoot my shot with one of my friends in a year or two. They’d laugh me out of this country if I tried so let me stop.

But, this is what I think of when I think of someone who doesn’t give up on you. I was the one that gave up. I don’t want her or that back, but I am learning to honor the good that happened in all of my relationships romantic and platonic. It’s my love history and brought me to where I am to know what I will and won’t tolerate.

I want the next level. The improved version of unbreakable love. I want my symbol of love that fits, be it a glass slipper, a magical rose, or true loves kiss. I want it. Hopefully, it’s something obvious like a notebook or an special ink pen, something that represents me, but it’s out there.

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Ode to Lil Kim : Insecurity

2/20/2019

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I can remember thinking that I needed to be a lady. My Mama raised us that way or at least she tried because that’s what women do. Mold their daughters to be what men say they want. I followed these rules up until I was a teenager. Didn’t cut my hair, sat up straight, tried not to be too loud, didn’t cuss… I basically didn’t do anything unlady like.

Then I heard a Little Kim track.

I was obsessed with that little woman from the moment I heard her voice. I knew all of her songs and posted her pictures on my wall. I’m sure I even named one of my vibrators after her. I still love her. Til death. But every time she crosses my mind now, I feel sadness.

Sadness because in loving her I had to know her story, too. I’m all for women changing their hair, bodies, and whatever else they want in order to be happy. It just has to be for themselves. I hate knowing that a man made her feel that she wasn’t enough, because she was more than enough. That woman was fine as fuck.

It makes me even more sad that I can relate. I’ve been there with the people that wanted me to be different physically. I’m just glad that I found myself enough to know better otherwise, I’d look just like Kim.

I wasn’t always the girl that was told she was pretty. Brown, buck-teeth, wide nose, kinky hair, and thin. That’s what I looked like. Guess what? People still liked me.

My ex liked her women white or Hispanic. She expressed this often. She always wanted me to straighten my hair. She often reminded me that I was thicker than she liked when I’m actually not big at all, but I mean when you’re used to dealing with Meth Anne, I guess I understand. I would just take it at first, but the savage in me got tired because, like, why the fuck are you here? You are more than welcome to trade me in for tacos or unseasoned food. There are other faces I can be sitting on while you’re wasting my time.

I had to humble her because she wasn’t my “type” either. If I have to go for physical, which I don’t because I truly believe in loving the soul and mind of a person, I like my women artsy: dreads, tattoos, piercings. I like my women with a sense of style.

She had none of this, well, except the tattoos. She also didn’t exactly have a winning personality or money or a luxury car. I’m just talking shit, but for real. She was basic.

She tried it.

I’m not bleaching my skin, I wear my hair the way I feel like it, even if that’s uncombed, and you’re going to take this body however it comes. You want bones, go get it. You want somebody with a massive ass or a BBW, I can point you in the right direction. I have a waiting list of people willing to suck orange soda from my ass if I asked them to, even your homies (insert shrugs). Ain’t no way I’ll let someone who can’t do a single thing for me that I can’t do myself, hit my self-esteem in a way that I want to transform.

I don’t even ask myself what another woman has that I don’t. I’m not competing. You can go. I know who I am. I know what I offer. You see it or you don’t.

My last Said Lover called herself making out with a non-black woman and felt the need to announce her race.

Okay…

First of al, black women get enough shit and here we have our own trying to make us constantly feel inferior (blog for another day).

***Shoutout to Said Lover in November for only loving dark-skinned black women and being radical about it. Black Lives Matter. Keep your all lives to yourself on this one.***

Months later, Said Lover decided to tell me her name and was like, I can show you what she looks like.

Why does it matter what she looked like? Why do you even still have access to a woman you swear you don’t talk to, to show me what she looks like? Will seeing her make me feel less betrayed? NO. Will it erase what happened? NO.

A part of me believes she wanted me to feel insecure, but that doesn’t work on women like me. It just turns me off. Who plays those types of games? It shows me who you are and what you think of me.

She can have you will forever be my favorite thing to say, because there is an infinite amount of people out here who know I’m amazing. And I’m not talking about people who stalk me on IG or Facebook. I don’t even feed into that type of validation. There are two type of women in this world: wounded or awakened. Guess which one I am.

Anyway, I’ve even had to call myself out on this because I do have a preference for chocolate. I was with a light-skinned woman for five years (remains undefeated in time) and I always told her she needed a tan. That wasn’t right of me and I recognize it.

Everyone is allowed to have a preference, but we are not allowed to force those things or our own insecurities onto other people.

So to Lil Kim, I’m sorry. You looked better than Faith Evans and Charlie Baltimore. The world was at your feet. You deserved more than what you were offered. Thank you for making me unapologetic.

I still love you.

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