Suck It, Disney!

Walt Disney lied! Society and my family lied too. They each convinced the younger version of myself that I should:

  • Be treated like a princess, because I am one;
  • Find a prince to take care of me;
  • Marry no later than age twenty-four;
  • Carry children in my womb;
  • Sing around the house as I do chores and cater to my prince charming; and
  • Have my shit together by the time I’m thirty.

Neither has proven to be true. Though, it appeared my mother and grandmothers willfully held down their forte, I openly struggle. No part of the Disney model fits into my idea of success. Most disturbing, I’m five years removed from thirty and I’m more fucked up than I was at twenty-one. The twenty-one year old Beatrice had nothing standing in the way of her dreams. She was happy, carefree. The thirty-five year old Beatrice is a taboo ball of energy. I care more about my career than I do being married. And though I love my four-year old more than anyone on the planet, I stay at a level five on the stress-o-meter. Thus, the bane of my existence falls within the lies I’ve been force fed. I’ve learned there is no happily ever after, there’s only happy is what you make it. Suck it, Walt Disney! Continue Reading

Sistah Girl

Girl, let me tell you about my life.

But let’s skip the part where I mention my failed marriage to a man that I had no business marrying in the first place. We can even fast forward through the difficulties that I’m having when it comes to dating. I’m not even interested in entertaining the subject of why I chose to wear my natural hair.

I want to talk about why it is you constantly look down on me. You act as though my life isn’t my own, but something you can mold. That’s not the case at all – and I’m here to tell you that nothing I do with this life pertains to you.

You think I don’t notice your face squinch whenever I give advice about marriage and relationships. You feel that somehow my advice is tainted? I want to remind you not to get too comfortable sistah – anyone at any time can warm my seat, and never forget it. And when you come sit on that bench, you will need someone who understands both sides fully.

My divorce made me that much more qualified to dip my hands into your life. I can tell you what is wrong and what is right. I need no imagination or practice because I’ve learned from my mistakes while walking your life and living another. So girlfriend, next time you want to tell me that “this is why you’re marriage didn’t last,” think again. I hold the answer to that and I am the one who can look at your future while you dwell on my past.

Don’t you dare make me believe that my standards are too high! Are you implying that I must lower my self respect or vision of real love in order to be satisfied? Sistah you have me twisted. When you have walked the miles that I’ve walked, then I will give you the opportunity to talk. But never look at me and selfishly give me bullshit advice. From one friend to another, you need to watch what you say. Because if the roles were reversed, I’d help you chase the bullshit away. So don’t make me feel as if I’m that desperate and don’t deserve a loving man’s hand.

You flare your nose at my natural beauty, and even try to convince me to get a perm in this luscious hair of mine. You’re so washed up in what society deems as beautiful that you’ve forgotten that natural beauty is a commodity. Damn a perm! I like my naps. I like the way my hair curls tightly and nestles on my head like soft sheep’s wool. It is cool to be like me, but you just don’t see cause your eyes are closed, your nose is high, and your mouth wide open. If only you’d try to get out of society’s deceit, you’d notice that you’re wrong and I’m right. My hair…your hair…our hair is heavenly. The next time you snub your nose just remember that I’m the one holding the precious gold – and the whole world envies me.