Never Dormant

Everybody’s talking about it. Jay-Z new album 4:44, his

proclamation that he is grown and woke as hell. Although

I’ve only heard a few tracks (I don’t have Tidal or Sprint), the

social media posts have prompted me to delve deeper into the

lyrics and all I can say is I dig it!  Apparently, I’m not the only

one because he's trending like crazy and quotes from his songs

are all the rage on every timeline I have. While some are

cheering the evolution of Jay-Z, others are saying that he’s

stating the obvious when he speaks of obtaining wealth over

becoming hood rich, when he talks about the importance of

being a responsible father and husband. As an artist myself, I

totally understand how what you write about is a reflection of

where you are on your journey. I published my first book A

Piece of My Mind…Poetic Confessions of a Self-Proclaimed

Diva in 2007…10 years ago. Most of my poetry was a

declaration of my self-esteem and love (mostly love gone

wrong), with a few poems about my Blackness and being a

teacher.  I was careful of who my audience was since I had

written to poems in my late teen years, it was geared towards

teens and young adults.

This is what the updated cover looks like 

Two years later, in my second collection, there were fewer

love poems, and they weren’t about breaking up. Instead, the

poems were about falling in love. There were more pieces

about the Black experience, some celebrating greatness, but

many more were about my growing frustration with

Black stereotypes and white people’s failure to understand

our struggle in America.

Yes...I use my image on every cover

There was also a chapter of erotic poetry because I was deep

into discovering my sexuality and I decided I wasn’t going to

be shy about it.

Plus, people who saw me perform erotic poems

were looking to take home what they saw on stage in the form

of a book. I used the title Outspoken…Poetry for the Bold

because I aimed to be intentionally risky.

 It was five years later that I released my third poetry

collection…after the murder of Trayvon Martin, after 10 years

 in teaching in alternative schools, and 8 years of running a

mentoring program. My eyes were wide open! In Truth

Tastes Better with a Side of Rhyme there would be no love

poems unless they were about encouraging people to love

themselves, to celebrate blackness and teach people about

our struggle. It was about death…finding acceptance and

closure and in some cases still searching for it. In Truth I was

a mother, mentor, advocate, and motivator. I wanted my

message to be heard, so I was careful about my use of

profanity.  I felt like I had the help of my ancestors in writing

that book.

My most recent poetry book Self-Titled was released in 2016. 

 I am in no way comparing myself- to Jay-Z (I’m not a

billionaire, I’ve never cheated or sold drugs, and my cadence

has nothing on his flow). However, I will say that Self-Titled,

much like 4:44 is my declaration that I too am grown and

woke as hell.

  It is all Black Woman, the pain, and pleasures, the serious

and the seriously sexy.  I address how the black man and

white America treats us, and how black women should treat

each other. And I do so unapologetically because I’m unafraid

of criticisms.  I pay homage to my past experiences.  I am

vulnerable as ever in how I reframed heartbreak, pain and

loss into lessons and in the words of India Aire…there is a

blessing in every lesson.

Kudos to Jigga Man, Jay-Z, Sean Carter,  for evolving from Where I'm from" to "Big Pimpin" to leaving a "Legacy" and still shouting out the streets.  The message is just as important as the delivery, and while he or I may not speak to all the masses, we are heard by those who need to hear it, and  it is spit to them in their language.

Sex is H.E.R.S

Let’s talk about sex. Okay, not so much sex as much as sexual empowerment.

This topic has come up recently since I’ll be hosting an erotic poetry event. As I spoke to people about this at various networking events, some were surprised that I would be a part of such things. I politely explained on more than one occasion that female empowerment is political, psychological, spiritual and definitely physical. As a matter of fact, the older I get the more I strongly I feel about the physical. 

I remember  valuing my virginity as a teenager. I held onto it until I was almost 18.  Once my 5-year relationship was over, I was determined to limit my number of partners to the number of fingers I had on one hand. When I surpassed that, I remember lying to men who asked how many I had been with so as not taint the image they had of me. Then I grew a little older, and while I had not reached my toes yet in terms of numbers, when I was honest about the number of partners I had, it was held over my head consistently. 

Why is it that women are made to feel that their value is somehow lessened by the number of men they slept with, casual or not? I had safe sex, great sex, not so great sex, and I don’t believe in regrets. Now I’m not saying women should just throw their “gifts” around in the name of empowerment, but what I am saying is that if you value yourself, and your body,  you're safe, it's consensual  and you get all of your regular screenings, it’s none of anyone’s business who you sleep with. 

Now that I’m close to forty and I pity the next man that even shapes his mouth to ask me how many men I’ve slept with. In the words of Beyoncé: 

"Happy" Mother's Day

Mother's Day wasn't always a struggle for me. When I was younger I absolutely loved making gifts in school for my ga-ga (my maternal grandmother). Let's see, it was the plants in a Styrofoam cups, homemade candy (which she couldn't eat because she was diabetic), and plenty of specially written and decorated cards. Mother's Day became harder after she died because it wasn't until I'd lost her that I began to feel like a motherless child. All of the love in the world couldn't stop me from feeling this emptiness when Mother's Day arrived.


When I became a mother, it got easier; I saw my son come home with the cards and plants, and I'd smile. But then I found myself missing Brenda, my real mother. As an adult, I wanted that special relationship I saw all of my friends have with their mothers, so I still felt empty. To cope, everyone knows I deemed myself Brenda's Child, and I became that parental figure to other kids who were missing a mom for whatever reason.


Three weeks before Mother's Day also marks the anniversary of the death of my mother's sister ( she died unexpectedly at 36 from a seizure, which was a reaction from her medication. She had been on dialysis for years due to kidney disease.) Two cent was my homegirl. I use the old school term because growing up in the '80s, she was who you wanted to be: creative, stylish, sexy, and cool. What made her most important to me was that had if not been for her babysitting my son free of charge, I would not have been able to finish college and work full time. It's because of her that my son developed early on a love of reading and learning. That was 2002, and again I learn to cope. She was the 3rd person whose name would be tattooed on me, and I honored her memory by publishing some of her poetry in a chapter dedicated to her at the end of my first book, A Piece of My Mind.

In 2009, my friend Gail died the week of Mother's day from Leukemia. She was a mother of four, and like my mother, my grandmother, and my aunt, she liked working with kids. I used my words once more to honor her in my memoir, The Right Amount of Sunshine.

This is the only way I know how to deal, I keep their memory alive through the work I am still able to do while I'm here on this earth.

I'll light a candle for each of them this Sunday, knowing they are present in spirit always. And although I may shed some tears of remembrance, I will have "Happy" Mother's Day just for them!
:

Ga-Ga ovarian cancer 1991

Brenda Breast cancer 1982

Gwen a.ka. Two Cent 2002

Gail Leukemia 2009