My Response to For Colored Girls

I laid in the plush cover of my lavender bedspread, surrounded by periwinkle poetry doodled walls and read For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide When the Rainbow is Enuf. Shange's poetry fascinated my 14 year old mind. My own poetry was just an exercise before then. Her poetry inspired me to go deeper into my poetic self, to find the color and the music instead of just the pain. I was "Lady in Purple".

I appreciate Tyler Perry's attempt to offer this most important work to the masses. Writing the screenplay could not have been an easy feat, for Shange's poetry is so full that one must stand completely still while reading it and read over and over and over just to press it all in. The actors chosen for the movie did their best with what they were given. Some characters were outstandingly portrayed and some were painfully flat. Anika Noni Rose deserves some recognition for the rape piece. She gave from her gut.

Now, as I find myself on the journey of "finding God in myself and loving her fiercely" and spreading my healed wings, my eyes and spirit are open to Universal cues. Tyler Perry's movie rendition of the Shange's book/play spoke to me in ways that may or may not have touched others. Sure, I stayed present in my seat, eyes and ears focused on the picture he was painting with her words, camera shots, use of lighting and sound. But, I also became acutely aware of the reactions from the audience of all Black women ranging in ages. It was the late night show and purposely chosen so I could rock my daughter to sleep first, as well as avoid the crowd I ran into for the movie Precious.

My sistahs sat sparsely all through the movie theater in small tribes. Some laughed in the wrong places, but most were silent in the right ones. I know some tears were shed, although none by me. Reading the book had more effect on me at 14, than the movie did at 36. The movie tried hard, but didn't get at the essence, at the Colored Girls core.

After seeing posts on Facebook about what others had experienced as far as audience reaction, I realize what I must learn from my experience last night. The true tragedy is the depth of artistry, pain and emotion being lost from the book to the screen to the audience. Unfortunately, most of the problem does not lie in Tyler Perry's work, as much as it does in the intellectual and emotional capacity of the audience: my sistahs. The experience last night proves to me that any social commentary on the state of Black women-- if it is to reach the masses of us to transform us in some real way-- must be CLEARLY stated.

Poetry has been my love and a major component of my soul in this lifetime. Shange's poetry is a treat especially because of its complex mixture of freedom and storytelling. I know important parts were lost as they fell on deaf, dumb and blind ears. They laughed at the plight of "Lady in Orange", just like they laughed at Precious when she was being beaten. They openly commented that Janet Jackson's character deserved what she got. They knew "Lady in Green" was going back to that man, and that Whoopi Goldberg's character was crazy. I think they missed the important bit; the 'Sistah, my pain is your pain' bit.

As an advocate for Black women, my focus is finding ways to help my sistahs, especially my young lil' sistahs, realize their inner beauty, talents and worth before the world beats it out of them. Attempts like the movie last night which try to bring to life books like Push and For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide When the Rainbow is Enuf may be hitting some sistahs hard, but I'm not sure if the average lil sistah got "it". And I knows she's getting the propaganda she hears on the radio, sees in music videos, on "The Game" and in the rest of Tyler Perry's movies!

As artists, poets, sages, teachers, storytellers and advocates, we have to make it plain if we want them to get it! Sure, we can make it colorful and artistic, but we MUST speak to their souls in their own language! They can't hear us when we preach, and they can't hear us when we are too deep. It is not that they are shallow, they just have not been taught to think critically and to think esoterically. Garbage is spoon fed to them, and we don't need to think deeply about garbage.

In an effort to not be a critic of Tyler Perry's work, but to look deeply at my own work, I feel empowered. My personal mission is to reach as many young Black women as I can to help them empower themselves. My poetry and my hip hop can get real deep, but I won't let it. It has been and will be easily accessible art for those who partake. They won't have to decipher or get a dictionary to get it. All they have to do is listen...

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MANTRA: I will find my purpose in every thing I experience. The Universe speaks volumes if I pay attention.

Her Smile

It has been a valuable and amazing ride. I have journeyed deep within myself to parts I thought I would never have enough strength to go. I realize now…I got the power! I feel tremendous. What a great word, tremendous…awe inspiring, extraordinarily large, marvelous!

Food has always been a comfort for me. When I look at pictures of myself as a very young girl anyone could see my light. It radiated all over me. When the darkness came to overshadow it, my smile wasn’t as wide and my cheeks got chubbier and chubbier. Food became my friend, my comforter in times I could not understand and food was consistently good to me…
During this fast, I have healed so many parts of myself. I never really thought I could go a whole day without eating anything, let alone two weeks. I tried this cleanse before. I thought I just couldn’t do it. Food was my rock. But, today as I am looking at this journey from the end, I know I did not rely on my thoughts to make it through. I am empowered by my courage to try it and my strength to endure it. My body is renewed, my mind is clear and my spirit soars like it did when I was six.

Today is the 9th anniversary of my Mama Queen, Saint Sandy Frederick’s transition from this physical dimension. Nine is the number of completion. I can remember how much pain she suffered by the end, but now I can see her smiling down on her family, and especially her seven glorious and shining grandchildren. She is here, protecting us as we honor her spirit with pure hearts. I am celebrating her legacy, the joy she left with us. I am celebrating her smile which I find firmly planted on my face. I smile a smile of Truth, given by Mama and polished by this fast. I celebrate her eternal Love that can never die. Today, I celebrate myself!

I did it! Now I know I can do anything! A new day has come in my life and there is no turning back!

I am new. I am Fiyah. I am Truth.

Mantra: Breathe and let Light fill you. I will do what I can to be healed. There is no better time to let go.

Mama's Princess

God has blessed me with a daughter. After all my womb had been through…God saw fit to bless my womb with a life giver; a seed with a womb. She is the “brownie” of the bunch, the color of golden chocolate. Her hair is silky like mine in the front and wooly like Baba’s in the back. I ask her, “Purpose, you wanna rock a fro?” She squeals, “Yes!” with a sweet thumb sucker lisp. I take the Black fist pick and lightly fluff her micro fro. She is two and so happy.


It has been very important for me to protect my daughter, my baby queen, from the politics of being a woman in this day in time. I mean she’s only two, but I make sure to uplift her all the time. I make sure she knows she is loved, protected and an honored part of our family. I make sure she knows she has a voice and is a beautiful spirit that shines. I provide her with empowering images, especially of women and I protect her from the media that destroys our young women before they really know who they are. The media that tells our daughters they are not good enough…that they need to be more to be whole.


I am currently working on a project for a Play Therapy class. Play Therapy is designed to be client-centered hands-off “therapy” for children 18 months to 11 years old. It is actually a very interesting class, and though my focus is counseling women, children are a natural extension of that. I am enjoying this class. The project is to build a portable play kit. The client, the child, will play without any limitations except some general ground rules, while the counselor observes the child's play. The play kit must have some specific toys in it like a baby doll, puppets, and toy cars. I have the majority of what I need, but certain things I needed to pick up to make the play kit complete. I have been traveling to all of the dollar stores, Big Lots and thrift stores around the city. Purpose gladly shops along with me, walking down the aisle and singing, “Ooooh, Mama! You see that?”


I have never had to look so intently at the toy section of these stores. Toys aren’t something I buy. Grandparents are usually the ones who go way overboard in the toy section. This project has helped me witness firsthand how many toys for little girls are not for Black little girls. I mean, where are the Black baby dolls? Where is the Black Disney “Princess”? Why is she not represented on all of the Disney Princess stuff? My daughter must have picked up 15 things today with the Disney princess quartet on the front of it. She sang, “Mama, Looka the Princess!” I said, “No, Cher. YOU are Mama’s Princess!”, but it didn’t sink in. The images were so powerful; my 2 year old sheltered daughter fell into the trap we ignore all the time. I took a break from my assignment to try my hardest to find a doll she could call princess. All of the dolls were white, and if I found one who was Black she was scantily clad and had way too much lipstick and eye shadow on. Her hair was nothing but the weave, and she didn’t look anything like my darling Purpose.



Where are the toys for her, a brown skinned, smart and strong willed sassy Mama’s girl? Where is the representation of a princess for her? I am so glad I wasn’t in there trying to find something for her because I would have walked out of all those stores empty handed. The baby dolls she has at home are preciously brown birthday gifts from Grandma and her first cousin, Maya. But what about for the other young Black queens? What happens when their Mama’s get tired of searching for a Black baby, or fall into the Disney Princess trap? As long as those pale faced, straight haired, thin lipped, frail framed dolls are her representation of a princess, she will never measure up. And what about all of the “Princess” birthday parties I’ve been to with a real, beautiful Black princess blowing out the candles on a cake with blond hair and blue eyes staring back at her! Now I know that we’re supposed to not care about the color of skin, but to be real, if these princess dolls represent royalty, what do the whorish-looking Black dolls represent? I mean, she’ll never be the princess no matter how hard she tries. What a young Black girl is IS beautiful, but where can we find a representation of that? It’s a damn shame.

MANTRA: Breathe and Let Light fill you. I will protect myself and my family from images that do not uplift us. I will create beautiful images to uplift my family and my community.

The Divine Female Emcee

Rita J

The Reminders

Soulflower

StaHHr

I was convinced that the female emcee was a rare breed. I thought finding one with lyrical skill and flavor, as well as self respect would be like finding a needle in a haystack. The ultimate female emcee would have to properly represent Black people and the fight for liberation, as well as shine beautifully from within-- which would make her rare indeed. My personal goal is to be this emcee, be this inspiration to so many women tired of the “Trina’s” and “Lil Kim’s”. This weekend the UNIVERSE proved me wrong. The female emcee is alive and thriving and her message is one of REVOLUTION!
The celebration of the 30th Anniversary of Black August/ Happily Natural Day in Atlanta (www.happilynaturalday/atlanta) was a beautiful experience for me. It felt so good to be around so many forward moving and proud to be Black people. Living in Montgomery from New Orleans has been a culture shock to say the least. In the cradle of the Civil Rights Movement, Black people from Montgomery seem apprehensive to talk about race and injustice. At the mere mention of anything expressing Blackness (“Black Mama”), I get rolled eyes and looks like “Who is this b…? She ain’t Black!”
At the Black August/Happily Natural Day celebrations there were all shades of Black celebrating our oneness, our uniqueness, and our natural beauty. I was introduced to phenomenal men and women holding it up for African culture. I met a naturopathic doctor, Dr. Kanika Jamila, (http://www.thehooddoctors.ning.com/) who uses her knowledge to train those in the community to heal themselves and others. I met a jewelry/crochet artist (AyanaRed.com) who makes 100% natural crochet baby dolls/baby clothes and a fashion designer who takes genuine dashiki fabric from Ghana to create high fashion pieces. The greatest prize though was meeting 5 powerful female emcees who truly impressed me. These brilliant sistah emcees changed my mind about the state of hip hop.

I have had the pleasure of knowing Stahhr for many years. She is a mutual friend of one of my dear sistahs, Nabii Bastet who held it up for female emcees in New Orleans pre-Katrina. Stahhr is a force all her own. She is a hardcore wordsmith whose lyrical savvy challenges ALL emcees. This weekend I began to witness Stahhr’s natural beauty shine on and off the mic. Stahhr introduced me to Soulflower, whose eclectic look and peace vibration drew me to her. She was a pleasure to vibe with, but when she hit that stage she blessed the mic and the place with powerful vocals for liberation. Aja Black, one half of the hip hop duo The Reminders, strolled around the festival with her beautiful daughters smiling and greeting people. But when the duo rocked that mic, Aja personified the female emcee. Her voice is strong and soulful, and her lyrical skills are amazing. She is a triple threat…with a great singing voice, rhyming skillz and unparalleled beauty/vibration. I didn’t have the pleasure of meeting Rita J and Boog Brown face to face, but while I was vending at the festival I had to turn my head to see who these sistahs were tearing the mic up. These two sistahs exemplify the balance of intelligence, knowledge of self and inner beauty. It is an honor to know that all these sistahs exist, vibing on a revolutionary tip and also supporting one other.
The mainstream “plastic wrap” is dead, no doubt. But, Hip Hop? TRUE hip hop is alive and well in these sistahs and the many other groups that represented at the Happily Natural Day/Black August Commemoration. Big Ups to the FTP Movement and the other organizers of this worthy event! It can only get better y’all! And to my sistah emcees…I am honored to be one of your newest fans. I’ve got work to do to prove myself as an emcee, but now I know I have some sistahs holding it up for hip hop while I get my vibe together. Can’t wait to rock the mic with all of you queens…Ase’.

MANTRA: Breathe and let Light fill you. I will reach for my highest Self in anything I say and all that I do.

A Sexually Addicted Society

When we hear the word "addiction" in our society, images of crack heads, meth heads, gambling fiends or even Robert Downey Jr. and Amy Winehouse pop into our minds. We don't realize how addiction touches every aspect of our lives in America and around the world.

It seems everybody has got something that we cling to to get us through the day. Don't be so blind and self-righteous as to say "I'd never pop a pill or take a drink", but you can't go a whole day without an Aleve or a cup of coffee. Chocolate, sugar, dairy, even your coveted Tylenol PM are addictions just like sex, food, alcohol, gambling, cigarettes and perscription pills.

Americans are addicted. The media are the real pushers. Everywhere you turn there is a commercial about the newest drug or a song on the radio about sexing you up, going down and even "in the club".

Sex sells , so the record companies are filthy rich and don't care that the children are getting hurt. Our babies are listening and watching intently, learning with each commercial or video what it is that they need. As soon as 3:00 hits and the babies are out of school...here goes Clear Channel with nasty and absurd lyrics to phat beats. B.E.T. doesn't stop the videos. They roll all night long. B.E.T. is there whenever the 3rd grader finishes his homework. Put the audio with the video and you have instant hypnotism. Our children are hypnotized by sexually explicit words and images.
Everything is political. The more sexually addicted our society is the more HIV/AIDS cases spread (our Black woman is dying), the more abortions we have (stem cell research, y'all), the more rapes occur (the Black man is steady incarcerated at gross rates) and so much more. The sick cycle is spreading and the only way to stop it is by elevating our minds, shaking the hypnotism and by TURNING OFF THE RADIO...TURNING OFF THE BULLS**T!!It is WAR. Which side are you really on? Can you sacrifice not listening to Lil Wayne or the Dream or T-Pain...even Twista and Beyonce'? Can you skip Ludacris and BOYCOTT B.E.T.? If it means a more wholistic environment for our children's growing minds and spirits, I'll do whatever it takes. Sex sells, but Love heals...Holla if you hear me.

MANTRA: Breathe and let Light fill you. I will sacrifice what I do not need.

Slice of Life

The weather is excruciating. We’ve been waiting for a day with no rain and warm enough to sweat, but this is ridiculous. There are gnats everywhere and my 3 ½ year old complains. The park we’re visiting is new to us, right down the street from Bright’s tennis camp. The baby enjoys swinging in the baby swing that seems too high off of the ground. My nine year old races her smiling because he can finally beat someone at something. He is happy. My youngest son has had enough of the gnats and asks ever so sweetly to go home. Everyone is sweating profusely, so I oblige. I start to pull the baby from her swing, coercing the winner of the swing race to stop. He uses his bare feet to slow down, scraping them against the red dirt. He stops then laughs a hearty “I won” laugh at his baby sister. She cares only about sucking her right thumb and putting her left hand in my shirt. Bright is waiting in the car. The first day at tennis camp whooped him, and he hurt his knee. “Come on y’all,” I say. “Let’s go.” As I carry my daughter on my hip, and lead the two smallest boys to the van, I notice two young brothas walking into the park. They seem surprised to see people actually at the park during the hottest part of the day. I nod a “Wuzzhaninbrothas” nod and continue to the van. Once I got the children all settled in their car seats and seat belts, I look up and into the park. The young men had settled into the benches right under the only shelter in the middle of the park. The older one, maybe 17 was obviously teaching the younger one, maybe 14 how to do something. The oldest had all the youngest’s attention as he spoke. It seemed the younger one hung onto every word, nodding as his elder spoke. The older one was milk chocolate skinned, thin and tall. He wore dreds and a basket ball jersey with a white T underneath. His jean shorts were way too big and almost touched the ground as he sat at the shelter. The younger one sat directly across from him. He was very dark chocolate and short. He was sporting a “faux hawk”, the half punk rocker and half B-boy style hair do. He wore way too big shorts and a too big white T. I sat with the van running and AC cranked, witnessing their exchange. The children were all glad to feel the air, so I got no complaints to start the ride. I was engrossed in this slice of life. The elder pulled out from his pocket two Styrofoam cups. I did not notice as we passed each other that they had anything with them, but I was preoccupied with 3 year old chatter about gnats. The elder also had beside him a 2 liter Sprite bottle, but it wasn’t clear like the lemony-lime caffeine free soda usually is. It was pinkish-purple so I knew it was that lean. The elder began pouring for the both of them as he steadily spoke. The younger ones eyes were fixed on the cup, and as I witnessed this ceremony, my heart began to break for them.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JZjauVbd3EE

All right! All right! All right! All right! All right!

I been doing this great work ! I have planned and sacrificed...built and philosophized. I have hustled and I HAVE NEVER GAVE UP! This dream in my spirit is not to succeed personally. I know for sure personal success will be a byproduct of this hard work. Naw, the dream in my spirit is for us ALL to succeed. I mean every one of us. I have a plan, a detailed step by step strategy to heal this world. See, I have already started with me and now I'm reaching out to my sistah's, who when healed will reach to the brothas and children, who will in turn reach out to others to spread this LOVE.

CAN A SISTAH GET SOME SUPPORT?

I mean, DAMN! People talk all that shit about how f'd up the world is but when somebody got a plan and is whole heartedly ready to execute it, where is the love? My peeps, where you at? Fellow artists, where YOU at? Family, where you at? Stop just talking that talk and walk the walk with me. Join www.truelovemovement.com and support a strong sistah tryna make a positive change.