Don't Be So Shady

I have two sons, who have 2 fathers. My first son was born with blondish hair and bluish grey eyes. His father is black, we've just got that kind of mix in our heritage.

My friends used to tease me and say that his father wasn't his father, but some blonde hottie somewhere under wraps.

My second son was brown-skinned, no question there. Didn't matter to me, they were both mine.

I knew they were very different shades of brown, but it never mattered to me.

Now with my grandmother, things were different.

I'm not saying which one, but between biologicals, steps, adoptives, I have had 5 grandmothers.

Don't get me wrong. I loved my grandmother. She was good to all of us. There were things we might not have otherwise had or done, was it not for her and my grandfather, but she made differences.

At first, I didn't notice. When my oldest was born, she was "normal". When my nephew was born two weeks before my youngest, she was still just a great-grandma (my nephew has one parent of mixed heritage, so he's also light).

When my youngest son was born, she fawned over him constantly. "Ohhhh, he's such a pretty brown!"

Then I would notice things she said...Little Richie on Family Matters, was a cute little, obviously a black and white mixed child, but every time the show came on, she'd say she didn't like that little boy. He wasn't even cute and things like that, but I thought nothing of it. Everyone is entitled to their opinion, right?

Then though, I started noticing that my youngest would get held more than my nephew. My youngest would get more attention than all the rest of the great-grands.

It was VERY noticeable to me, but it hadn't clicked why yet. And then one day it did...

My youngest got preferential treatment because he was darker. Then a lot of things made sense.

Of my grandmother's children, one was a different shade than the others and that child was treated differently growing up. Got away with much less. Given more work than the rest. Treated similarly to the lighter great-grands.

I was the only grandchild for a long time and I thought that I got to do so much because of that, I'm thinking now it might have been because I was the brownest too.

Anyway, once I figured out the children were treated differently, I'd get an attitude and usually getting in trouble for saying something smart aleck.

My thing though, as a parent, was don't make differences between my kids. Treat them the same or don't treat them at all. I feel like that in every way. Don't let one child have carte blanche and then military rules for the others.

Of course, now that they're teenagers, I can't treat them exactly the same because of their very different personalities. The base treatment though is the same.

My grandmother must've gone crazy in the 70's and 80's when "light skin was in".

I have real issue with skin color still being a source of discrimination, hatred and different treatment in the year 2010.

Just last night at work, I had a parent change his whole dialect when he was speaking to me. Reminded me of the jive talking nun on Airplane.

My boss, who is white, noticed it from across the room. It was funny to me because anyone who calls me at work, confuses me with a white woman. It's not a "white" voice per se, it's a professional voice. When she talked to him later and away from me, the jive talk was gone. Whatever.

I always thought it funny that professional voice and white seemed go hand in hand, as if *enter slave dialect here* massa don have no negras tha cn ansa phones 'feshunaly! *deep eyeroll*

I have encountered as many unprofessional white, hispanic and other nationalities as I have professional black folks.

The economy is a mess. Education is a mess. Government is a hot ass mess. Quite a few of our children (all shades of em) are being failed by their parents. Do we really STILL have to make color an issue?

Get over it. The DNA might be different, but peel the skin, we're all muscle and bone. Sheesh.

Sista, It Ain't Always The Brothas: Sometimes It's You

*stepping up on my soapbox and adjusting the mic*

It is still largely a secret to most, exactly what all I've experienced in the way of relationships. Some of it pretty, a lot of it not.

One thing I pride myself on, is not being the bitter sista who takes it out on every other man she crosses.

I know women who have dogged their sons out, just because they reminded them of their Daddy. That's BS.

If your Daddy did something to you, don't take it out on your date. If your babydaddy did something, don't take it out on your son. If your brother did something, don't take it out on your neighbor.

Let that shit lie right where it was created. In that person. Taking it out on everyone else just makes you a bitter, miserable woman that no one wants to deal with.

Another thing, own up to your place in things. It isn't often that a bad situation is created by one person alone. If you've participated in no other way other than settling, share the blame.

I know this sista who could find blame in the brothas anywhere. I mean just dog em any and every chance she got.

I bet she could find a way to (illogically) blame brothas for a blue sky. Well I got reeeeal tired of it one day.

We were at church and she was on a rant, blaming everything on the black (I'm not typing african american 50-11 times) man, when I stopped her mid-sentence.

*sidebar* See, the older I get, the worse I get with this thing of saying exactly what I'm thinking. I can't even control it sometimes. I'll think something and only until the person I'm facing, registers shock, do I realize that I've said it out loud. I've told folks to shut it. To stop lying. Stuff like that.

Anyway in mid rant, I told her that if I were any of the men of the church (who she'd call on for help, quite often), I wouldn't even speak to her and in fact, I'd be offended, so she either needed to apologize and shut up or stop asking them for help. Of course an argument ensued.

Yes, I argued at church. I might have even cussed. You know what else I did though? I shut her up. Yeah. She got to blaming black men for the shortage of married black women and was going on and on with some mess. Mid-sentence, I reminded her that since I'd known her, she'd only dated one african american man. Her history was primarily with Nigerian men, a totally different culture. She needed to recognize that her problem was in the type of man she was choosing. She needed to step back, shut up and re-evaluate the things she said and did.

Recognize that if you keep having the same type of relationships, that you're doing the same kinds of things and if you want different, YOU make a change.

Now that I think about it, I haven't heard her dog the brothas out for a long time.

Heffa's still bitter though.



*steps down, stomps foot, yells "Sexual Chocolate", drops the mic and walks off*

All That Glitters Ain't Gold...

Some of you might remember this post from 360 and again from Multiply. It's a lesson that never gets old. One that I'll continue to re-post from time to time, in hopes of helping someone else.

I was kind of discouraged that I only get one or two comments on a post, but this weekend was evidence that people read what I write :) Thanks.

If we're close, you might not want to read this. This is a heavy subject and a true story.

I am finally ready to tackle the most hurtful of my relationships. It started one night with the son of a flirty neighbor, some alcohol and a poor excuse of a Halloween costume.

Anyway, I caught the attention of my neighbor’s son who was going to a club with his then wife (I didn’t know it and neither of them said anything). He must have talked to me for at least 30 minutes with her standing right there (I guess the epitome of trust was there).

Anyway, a few weeks later he came to my house and we sat up talking until about 2 in the morning and he ended up sleeping on my couch.

We would talk for awhile every day and I got sucked in by his charisma. One day he came over to the house clearly upset and crying because his little brother had gotten killed during a drug deal gone bad. I listened to him, let him cry ended up attending the funeral with him.

We got pretty close in the couple of months after that and he’d spent the night a few times, so when I moved, it was no big deal that it happened more frequently. After a few more months I told him he might as well just move in, so he did. He’d gained my complete trust.

Everything was cool the first 6 months, no arguing, he was working, contributing half his check to the household expenses, real cool…Then I found out he was still married….His ex called and wanted him to keep the kids over the weekend. They got into it and she called me back a little later and informed me that he wasn’t divorced, simply separated. That should have made me run then, but I didn’t. Didn’t see it as a problem, he was where he wanted to be, right?

Anyway, long story short, in the next few months his true colors came out only I was already sucked in by him and didn’t see what was right before me. He was an insecure, lying, cheating, abusive, alcoholic.

Nearly a year passed and I was invited to Chi-town for a new year’s party with some friends from college and I invited him too. He didn’t want to go and when I got there my guy friends who are more like brothers to me and my special friend, the only one from school that I had somewhat of a relationship with, treated me so much better than I’d been treated at home that I didn’t want to go back.

I came back home and the following weekend caught him in a few lies and found proof or I should say I heard proof that he was cheating **Note** Fellas, READ the directions when you get your cell phones so your girl doesn’t have to set up your voicemail….DUH!

I told him he had 2 weeks to get out. Well those 2 weeks became two weeks from hell and in the meantime, online I’d met the sweetest person who constantly told me I deserved better, not necessarily him, but better.

G.G. turned into one of the most evil demons on earth. He’d threaten me, dog me out verbally, play mental games (actually he’d done that all along, but it was starting to become clear that’s what he’d been doing). I realized that I was scared to death of him and when he became physically and sexually abusive (no better way to show your love to your girl than raping her in the comfort of your home) I put him out period. That’s when he told me he’d put boric acid in one of my drinks hoping to make me miscarry just in case I was pregnant. I told him he had until the end of the day to get someone to come get his stuff or it would be in the yard. Ain’t pride something else? I really didn’t want my neighbors or anyone else to know…

A few weeks later, he called me at around 11 pm and said he’d gotten a ride from a club and wanted to talk to me. I told him I was sleep and didn’t want to talk. He said he’d gotten dropped off at my house and he was calling from the porch and it was raining. I told him he’d better get off the phone and call back the person who’d dropped him off. I hung up on him and took the phone off the hook.

I woke up and this negro was standing over me watching me sleep! I have no idea how he got in the house to this day. Nothing was broken into and everything was locked up. All I could think of was whether this idiot had done something to my kids in the next room. I had 9-1-1 on speed dial, but I’d had the phone off the hook, so there was no dial tone. I can honestly say I didn’t think I’d make it through the night. To make things worse, the guy I’d been talking to as friends, had a picture I really liked and I’d printed it out and it was on my headboard. That didn’t sit real well either.

I eventually talked him into leaving by telling him I’d hit the speed dial and the police were coming and he left. I called 9-1-1 as I checked on my kids. They were fine and I called my friend and got hysterical when it really hit me how things could have ended. He stayed on the phone with me until the police arrived.

They sent several cars out looking for him and they couldn’t find him. I ended up getting an order of protection from him and got rid of everything in the house that reminded me of him. I had no bed, no table, no living room furniture, nothing. I’d rather start over again.

He had to be watching me for awhile because he’d "coincidentally" be at the store the same time I was there and little things like that, but he eventually left me alone. I found out later that my father had seen him at a bus stop and snuck up on him and very quietly whispered a few words to him. A few years went by and I didn’t hear from him.

Unfortunately, at the time, I had a very easy to remember work number and it “popped” into his head one day and he decided to invite me and the kids out to dinner because he missed us. Yeah, right.

I let him speak his piece because I figured that if I didn’t, it was possible that he might show up and I definitely didn’t want that. He wanted me to think about getting back together. Sure, hold your breathe and I’ll be right there.

I said all that to say this, God protects children and fools. Know He’s got your back when you don’t even have your own…..He gave me a wonderful and caring friend who I love very much, in the process and has given me the realization that some of the things I go through and think are monumental are nothing at all compared to what He’s brought me through.

Letting Go

In my opinion, I think that so many relationships don’t last because people fail to really let go of the previous relationship before getting into the next.

I liken that baggage some of us carry to barnacles on the bottom of a boat. It looks pretty up top where everyone can see, but under the surface, it’s just nasty. Barnacles cling, they multiply and eventually take over if they aren’t cleaned off. They can clog the motor and your boat won’t be able to even move forward, just like a relationship.

You can pretend everything is all good, but eventually the issues you never dealt with will resurface and often ruin things.

Yeah, I know I said letting go…I’m going to get there.

Some people don’t know how to let go…

He/She still has my clothes

He/She still has my pictures

He/She still owes me money

He/She still has my….

It may be hard, but those are all THINGS. Things that you acquired and most that you can acquire again. If he/she doesn’t have a child in common? Leave that shit at the door and start your healing!

Sometimes all it takes is saying or hearing those two words out loud

Let go.

10 Things About Me

Some days it's really easy to sit and tap out something informative and entertaining and then there are days like today.

Well, browsing through Bag Lady's blog, I ran across her 10 things list and thought I'd do my own today.

Most of you won't care what I write because you don't know me. Some of you already know most of what I share.

1. I'm 41. People tell me all the time that I don't look it at all. I don't know...I look 41 to me. Some of those 41 years were LOOOOOONG. I have one silver hair to show for it. And one white hair *insert mortified smiley here* For personal reasons though, that one is removed often.

2. I am a dialysis patient. My doctor discovered my decreased kidney function when I was 36. I had a short pity party til my friend Fay told me to get over it. I then rationalized that at least I didn't have HIV or cancer. I've had my down days, don't get me wrong, but I've been good ever since.

3. After said pity party, I became an open book about my personal experience. Any question anyone had or has, was/will be answered to the best of my ability. I don't embarass easily either, so if there's ever anything you want to ask...

4. My family and I have had personal conversations and shaken hands with Barack Obama. He wasn't yet president. He wasn't even a senator yet at that point. I was the night before he won his seat as senator and he spoke at a local union hall. After his speech, I thought he was suitable to run for president (think he took my advice?). He was very personable and charismatic in person. Not really any different a person than he appears to be now. He took the time to speak to my children individually and question them each about school, their homework they brought to the rally and about their future plans.

5. I have met many famous people, but have never been starstruck. I think the only people who could make me would be Prince and maybe Janet Jackson. Michael probably would have too. I've met members of UTFO, Grandmaster Flash and most of the Furious 5, Herbie Lovebug, Steve Harvey, Ossie Smith, Twista, Vanessa Fraction, Andre Iguodala, Chico Benymon, Morris Chestnut, James Brown, Ben Vereen...those are who can remember off the top of my head. They were all very down to earth people. The only person I was close enough to speak to but they weren't really doing "general public" (though it was the same place I met Chico and Morris) was LisaRaye. She had security (none of the others did) and they would barely let you speak.

6. I met my best friends, the ones I call my SiStars, all online. I had issues with having women as friends for a long time, due to my very best friend at one time, messing around with my then love interest. My SiStars know some ugly truths about me and love me any way. *I see you Nyx, Kween, Vixen and Silky! I have another who I feel will be in that inner circle soon, I see you K.C.!*

7. My youngest son's father died in the midst of his children, his first wife, me, his then girlfriend and had shortly before losing consciousness, had spoken to his second wife.

I performed CPR on him until the paramedics got to him. I've asked myself a thousand times if I did things right. If his death might have been the result of me getting my chest compressions and breaths mixed up. I know in my heart that I did the best I could and it was probably inevitable, but I still question myself.

I just got to the point that I could talk about it without crying, in the last couple years. I quit a job that required CPR recertification because the first time I went through the class, after it happened, I barely could get through it because I kept freaking out.

8. I've experienced a lot of life lessons that I'll probably never share with my family. Some of it I think, would hurt them too much to hear. Those experiences are largely why I teach my boys the way I do. I will teach my nieces so they don't go into certain situations without a clue.

9. I have an associate degree from a business college. I wanted to go back to get my bachelor's but was discouraged when I found out that only 3/4 of all the credits I'd earned would transfer and I'd have to start over like a freshman. I then took some criminal justice classes that were so interesting! I got A's and high B's in them. Right now I have no desire to take any of my core classes again. Maybe someday.

10. I have a brother, two aunts, an uncle and a grandmother who did/do hair for a living. I am so uncoordinated that I can't even cut bangs straight across. I am hair care challenged. I never learned how to roller set my hair properly and would have 12 rollers on one side of my head and 6 on the other because my arms got tired. After I started dialysis, I decided to stop putting harsh chemicals in my hair and stopped getting relaxers (they are NOT perms!) and I've been natural for a little over a year and my hair is more versatile than it's ever been. I put very few chemicals in my hair and am finding more and more natural procedures and I love it!

So that wasn't too hard. I hope I didn't bore you to tears. Wonder what I'll write about tomorrow?

What Do I Know?

The other day, my 18 year old asked me if he was gay, would I still love him.

I asked him what one had to do with the other?

He assured me that he wasn't and went on about his business.

I know what was on his mind though, because it's been on mine too. All these gay teens committing suicide hurts my heart.

I know most parents would die inside if their child came to them with that. Some would disown them. If either of my sons came out to me, we'd deal with it together. I'd tell them that I still loved them and God did too, despite what most "church folk" said. Nowhere have I ever seen that God doesn't like homosexuals. I've read that he despises the act, but never the person. I recognize there is a time and place for religious teaching and the time to be a parent sometimes supercedes that. I know some won't agree with me. Do I care?

I feel for those teens. I don't know how they were raised. If they were taught not to care what someone else's opinion of them is or if their parents were always there for them, no matter what.

I don't know if they had someone telling them that they still matter as a person, despite their sexual preference.

I don't know if they had someone praying for them. Note I said praying FOR them, not forcing them to pray it out of them.

I don't know why those other kids who bullied them had such a low self esteem about themselves that they picked on the ones who were confused or maybe sure about who they were.

I don't know if they had parents who taught them that no one is better than any other person and they decided to give in to peer pressure and berate the gay teens.

I don't know what those same teens will do, if one day, one of their children comes out to them.

I just don't know.

What I do know? I've created a relationship with MY children, that they feel comfortable coming to me, no matter what. That even some of their friends feel the same way.

What I do know? No child in my life should ever feel that there are no adults that they can confide in.

What I do know? That adult is me...

For The Parents -Serious Subject matter

Did you happen to catch Tyler Perry on Oprah the other day?

I didn't. I don't make it a habit to watch Oprah. I wish I had that day though, just to hear his story.

I've heard several people who are not TP fans, say that they have some clarity now about why women are portrayed the way they are in his movies.

From what I understand, he was molested by both men and women (or a woman) at a young age.

You may or may not be surprised to hear how many men that has happened to.

I have many male friends and the majority of them feel very comfortable sharing things with me and I will say that at least 97% of who I've discussed this with, were sexually abused by a babysitter or neighbor.

Only they didn't call it that. They called it their first piece or losing their virginity. As a mother of two sons, I call it rape and if I'd ever found that it had happened to mine, well, Nancy Grace would be talking about the angry mother who...well, who knows what I would do? I know it wouldn't be pretty.

I remember I used to get mad because I could rarely spend the night at any of my friend's houses. Shoot, for all that, I could rarely go ANYWHERE.

I remember asking if I could go to the skating rink either my Jr. or Sr. year and my mom said yes, I could go, but my curfew was at 10. Man, skating started at like 8. I just didn't go. There was no point. I'm convinced though that if I'd had that kind of freedom, I'd be a grandmother now, like many of my friends.

Anyway, back to the point. I rarely went anywhere that my children couldn't go and as a result of that, my kids often had issues feeling comfortable with other children. I knew where they were though.

Now that I think about it, other than my family and day care, the only two babysitters they ever had was my younger cousin and one of my sister's best friends and I didn't leave my kids with anyone (except day care) until they could talk and tell me when something was wrong.

My son and his best friend have been best friends since 1st grade. It's just been in the last 3-4 years that he's been allowed to sleep over and he's 13. He sleeps over so much now, that my place is his 2nd home, LOL.

Nothing against his friend's parents, but I had to get to a place where I was comfortable with them and comfortable about him going there. We got to really know each other when the boys played basketball. That's when I learned just how alike our parenting styles were.

My oldest never really had friends like that, so he stuck with me. Only in the last year has he really started staying overnight at a friend's house. He's 18.

Maybe I made them miss out on some things. I don't really care. My concern was more for their safety and I still think I made good choices.

I tell you what, I always remember saying that when I grew up, I wasn't going to be anything like my mother. Well, I am a lot different, but I'm glad she instilled some things in me.

I wrote the poem below, a few months ago. It was heavy on my heart that day.



Untitled
Precious cargo

Entrusted to few

Are you aware of what's gotten by you?

You paid her to care

for your little one

unknowing she's where

the abuse had begun.

He was under 15

and she knew he was clean

untouched by any "hers"

even though he was unsure

of what she was doing, really meant.

His friend (that he told)

said it was heaven-sent

to have a woman's touch

to experience such things as a grown man does.

She touched him "there"

made him aware of what a hard d**k gets.

At first he was scared, thought she would bite

when she took him into her mouth that night

he didn't get that his mama would kill her

if she knew her baby was used as a "thriller".

She told him it was all right

and used him as her toy

beginning that night, he was no longer a boy.

Fast forward several years

the conquests he's had, instead of tears.

He brags about getting started so early

but if he really looked inside himself, then surely

he would realize what she took from him

was more than virginity.

Fucked his mind up on thoughts of unity

with the right one, a breach of his trust.

In order to be happy with one woman,

he must face his demon

and grow past the hurt

and bury those memories under the dirt.

These things happen much more than you think

to hear these stories, your heart will sink.

Have second thoughts about who you choose

to have around your babies...

Someone's experiment

someone's toy

is not what you want for your baby boy

Unpublished work © 2010 D. Newman