Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Og Mandino
I am here for a purpose and that purpose is to grow into a mountain, not to shrink to a grain of sand. Henceforth will I apply ALL my efforts to become the highest mountain of all and I will strain my potential until it cries for mercy.
Friday, August 13, 2010
Valid Randomness
Because someone told me to be the amazing person I am....I have learned to be confident, take risk, savor every moment, cultivate new friendships, love, pray and most of all, be true to myself.
In being true,
I accept the things that make me unique.
Appreciate everything that makes me happy.
Live in the moment.
Never hold a grudge.
Forgive.
Be kind.
Be honest.
Cherish the ones that love me.
Lend a helping hand to anyone in need, and not expect anything in return.
Recognize a bridge over water.
Accept the things I do not have control over,
But to learn the lessons they offer.
In being true,
I accept the things that make me unique.
Appreciate everything that makes me happy.
Live in the moment.
Never hold a grudge.
Forgive.
Be kind.
Be honest.
Cherish the ones that love me.
Lend a helping hand to anyone in need, and not expect anything in return.
Recognize a bridge over water.
Accept the things I do not have control over,
But to learn the lessons they offer.
I’m still learning…..Life is the greatest stage.
A random post to those who cared enough to read between the lines of My Life.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Patriarchy damages men Part 2....."I'm just saying"
Not to ignore Jo’s well-presented analysis supporting her thoughts about patriarchy damages men; I will not make addressing that one issue my main focus. My beliefs stem from what I feel should be the most practical and effective solution to educate and resolve issues that surround the imblanced treatment of women. Whether it is the right to vote, marry, be educated, own businesses or the other numberous advantages that men share in their communities. This list should not be allowed to continue to rear its ugly face so that women are subjected to the mistreatment of a male dominated society in which they have little to no rights.
Not to generalize the male species as the villians of these evils but to point out obvious characterisitcs of the plight of patriarchy as an oppressive component that diminishes women and humanistic values as a whole. The trickle down effect that allows men to be the benefactors of a “good life” does not allow the same for women as human beings. Women are human beings that should be born into a world that encourages “good life.” By “good life,” I am suggesting equal opportunities/rights to make decisions about ones future, whether it is to surrender to traditional customs of her environment or be allowed to live in an environment that enriches the quality of life for everyone.
I have noticed that in the poorest societies women are treated the worst by men who would be considered destitute by men in countries that favor women’s rights. It is my opinion that these men are uncultured and reprehensible in their thinking. With saying that, my suggestion to those countries that are among the poorest—they should model other countries that are moving forward toward a “good world.”
Not done…Part III.
Life.
Monday, July 19, 2010
Patriarchy Damages Men too...no really, Part I
In doing what has become a daily routine of never ending blog reading/skimming, I came across an interesting blog entry, Patriarchy Damages Men too….No Really. This entry immediately took me aback to those days as an undergraduate student attending an all girls university; The constant debate of matriarchy vs. patriarchy, professors imposing their viewpoints, female protagonist fighting to be heard, and of course, I cannot leave out the girls who simply could care less (lost girls).
As with most blog entries that I find interesting, it has become second nature to leave a commit and move to the next. However, the ideas in this blog hit home. The author and audience touched on some issues that I have not contemplated in some time and have shielded some new light on the subject.
Concomitantly, I do support some of the views Jonubian suggests; I question her intentions and aim on various statements.
Before I post my (varying) opinions on the entry, I ask that you read it for yourself and in a day or so I will hopefully present a more detailed commentary. Right now I am still chewing and spitting!
Article as follows:
Patriarchy damages men too...no really
I love Black men.
I love Black men. I think my adoration comes from dancing with my father, my feet on his, to Otis Redding records. Or possibly from my big brother always allowing me to ride shotgun, regardless of what friend of girlfriend was also riding, in his candied Monte Carlo with the booming system. It is the men in my life who remind me not to subscribe to any agenda that diminishes them. However, my love for them also mandates that I create an honest space where I can openly discuss how they hurt me, and more often themselves and our community holistically. While I understand that these conversations create apprehension, a sort of uneasiness, both in my personal and professional relationships, I still must speak. Sister Audre reminds me that my silence will not protect me, and also that we must love AND resist simultaneously in order to survive.
bell hooks, in a chapter entitled “Understanding Patriarchy” (from her book The Will to Change: Men, Masculinity and Love) defines patriarchy as:
…a political-social system that insists that males are inherently dominating, superior to everything and everyone deemed weak, especially females, and endowed with the right to dominate and rule over the weak and to maintain that dominance through various forms of psychological terrorism and violence.
I know my mere mention of this definition alerts some men to prepare a defense. Here comes Jo with her feminist/womanist/ men stay losing talk. Not so. Although hooks defines patriarchy in respect to the way it oppresses and violates women, this post is about men- my brothers- who I hope can recognize how the boxes that allow them to dominate, control, and seem superior to others also entangle and entrap them. Khalil Gibran, in speaking of love, preaches, “For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you”(that’s another post, but WORD LIFE, Khalil). This hypothesis concerning love can also be applied to theories of sexism, misogyny and patriarchy, which is the social system that all of these behaviors are attributed to.
Patriarchy is a disease…
Patriarchy affects men so deeply, most times without them knowing, that the average man does not understand the term or its proper use. Yet, as hooks also points out, it is “the single most life-threatening social disease assaulting the male body and spirit in our nation.” Let’s pause. How can this be? How can a socio-political construct that provides men with so much privilege also threaten their health and livelihoods? Well there are volumes of books written to explore this ideal, but what sits at the center of it all is this: men, when they subscribe to traditional gender roles, are left without the ability to realize their full humanity.
Traditionally, men are raised to believe that God (who is male) created the world specifically for their use. They are born to conquer (with force) and are supposed to be as callous as stone. Men are never to be questioned, or better still to have questions. Boys don’t cry or show any emotion really- I mean not if they want to be considered a “real” boy and not some “sissy” or “faggot” (I deliberately use these belittling and offensive terms after thumbing through James Baldwin’s discussion of his encounters with sexism in his essay “Freaks and the American Ideal of Manhood”). Subsequently, women were designed by (the male) God to serve men on their quest to conquer…everything- other men, women, children, the world, the universe. Black men are especially negatively impacted by these connotations, because in many ways they are expected to be hyper-masculine.Western culture mandates that Black men are the most aggressive, dominating, and savage of all. At the same time however, Black men are often deprived of those privileges that allow them to be seen as a men- in the traditional sense of the word. Ralph Ellison’s Invisible Man comes to mind when I consider this dichotomy. He writes:
I am an invisible man. I am a man of substance, of flesh and bone, fiber and liquids – and I might even be said to possess a mind. I am invisible, understand, simply because people refuse to see me.
If such an opposition doesn’t create some sort of schizophrenia within Black men, I’m not sure what could. Our men are left to internalize this contradiction and attempt to maneuver through and around it in silence. Its and impossible feat that is killing them, inside and out.
Twitter tells no lies…
But what happens when one can not be the man society socializes him to be? A few of my twitter friends provided some exceptional insight when I asked, “How does patriarchy hurt men?” Alicia Sanchez (@aliciasanchez) sent me a link to this fantastic poster, which begins by stating, “For every girl who is tired of acting weak when she is strong, there is a boy who is tired of pretending to be strong when he feels vulnerable.” Wow. When I speak of men not being able to realize their full human potential, it begins precisely with this concept of masculinity. It is impossible for any human being to always be strong and courageous and fearless. Men though, are not allowed moments of fear, of indecision, of sadness- or even moments of extreme happiness or passion for that matter. The result of this lack of human feeling and emotion is a life of suppression, depression, and abuse towards those who are allowed to express those emotions and feelings. Lorde asserts:
Men who are afraid to feel must keep women around to do their feeling for them while dismissing us for the same supposedly “inferior” capacity to feel deeply. But in this way also, men deny themselves their own essential humanity, becoming trapped in dependency and fear.
She goes on to say that she challenges her son to fight patriarchy by not allowing him to think that she is to navigate his feelings for him. Epic. Another friend, Ndada Vaz (@cadillackitty) noted how men’s reading choices are affected by patriarchy, specifically in their not being avid readers of fiction. “… men read autobiographies, reports etc. because the emotion is removed in the ‘reporting’. in fiction emotion tends to be internal.” Hmph. What a nuanced form of oppression it is to have one’s reading habits dictated. Sure we are aware that women are told what to say and read, how to behave, what is socially acceptable and unacceptable, but we must also realize that men have the same demands placed upon them, and are none the better for it. What of the man who prefers to be an artist instead of a ball player (especially in the Black community)? Of course I know that there are Black male artists, just as there are Black female hoopers- the question is, what is the cost of the pursuit? And what happens to those men who are not strong enough to relinquish those crowns and privileges to be who they really desire to be?
I want a partnership, so should he…
Many of my male twitter friends, like Wise Naim (@wisemath) noted that patriarchy takes from men the opportunity to have true equally partnered relationships with women. I can personally attest to the reality of this issue. In many ways my ex husband was emotionally withdrawn and unavailable- not at all because he didn’t desire to be kind or caring, but because he didn’t feel that it was safe to do so, he didn’t have the tools to do it, and society told him that his wife (who is a woman) is not allowed to instruct him on how to. Additionally, other relationships that I’ve had ended because some of those men could not digest the idea that I may be more educated or earn more money than them. Traditionally, men are the providers and are supposed to be intellectually and financially superior to the women in their lives, therefore being with a woman who is smarter or more financially sound than him is deemed emasculating. Again, Black men are particularly affected by this issue because statistics show that in many cases Black women are better educated and higher paid. I sincerely believe that the fix to the many issues that Blacks face in love relationships lies in a need to shift the paradigm of traditional relationship and gender roles. Unfortunately, patriarchy does not allow for such transitions to be feasible. It’s tragic, really.
Patriarchy literally kills…
There is a much more gruesome manner in which patriarchy destroys men. It happens when this idea of dominating and killing overrides the basic decent and human characteristics that allow us to peacefully co-exist. One can consider the case of Tekerrious “T.K.” Jackson, a six year old boy who was beaten to death (over a period of weeks actually) by his father. When investigators asked Alex Duncan why (or how) he abused his son to the point of death, he replied “he was trying to discipline his child, to teach him how to “man up.”" The idea that a child is expected to be a man, and a man in a very violent and artificial manner, to the point where he loses his life is just inexplicably wretched. It may be safe to say that Duncan was repeating behavior that he himself was subjected to as a child and as an adult. Either way, a child is dead and another child (or possibly children) will undoubtedly grow up without a father.
We all lose when the mental disease of patriarchy inhibits us from reaching our full potential. The foremost quote in this post from Audre Lorde prescribes a solution to the dilemma we face. We simply have to raise our sons to be the men we want our daughters to live among. As women, we owe it to the men in our lives to address patriarchy at its core and explain that they don’t have to subscribe to the associated social mandates that are meant for their demise. Additionally, we must halt our own (often unchecked) perpetuation of patriarchy when we deal with men. As men, you have to be strong enough to be honest about who you are and demand your full humanity- to claim an existence that allows you to face disappointment, and hurt, and laughter, and love without feeling that those things make you unmanly. We just need to become better people. Period.
In closing, Lorde wrote this about raising her son:
The strongest lesson I can teach my son is the same lesson I teach my daughter: how to be who he wishes to be for himself…And this means how to move to that voice from within himself, rather than to those raucous, persuasive, or threatening voices from outside, pressuring him to be what the world wants him to be.
We all need healing. In the words of our African ancestors: Ase, let it come, let it be so.
As with most blog entries that I find interesting, it has become second nature to leave a commit and move to the next. However, the ideas in this blog hit home. The author and audience touched on some issues that I have not contemplated in some time and have shielded some new light on the subject.
Concomitantly, I do support some of the views Jonubian suggests; I question her intentions and aim on various statements.
Before I post my (varying) opinions on the entry, I ask that you read it for yourself and in a day or so I will hopefully present a more detailed commentary. Right now I am still chewing and spitting!
Article as follows:
Patriarchy damages men too...no really
I love Black men.
I love Black men. I think my adoration comes from dancing with my father, my feet on his, to Otis Redding records. Or possibly from my big brother always allowing me to ride shotgun, regardless of what friend of girlfriend was also riding, in his candied Monte Carlo with the booming system. It is the men in my life who remind me not to subscribe to any agenda that diminishes them. However, my love for them also mandates that I create an honest space where I can openly discuss how they hurt me, and more often themselves and our community holistically. While I understand that these conversations create apprehension, a sort of uneasiness, both in my personal and professional relationships, I still must speak. Sister Audre reminds me that my silence will not protect me, and also that we must love AND resist simultaneously in order to survive.
bell hooks, in a chapter entitled “Understanding Patriarchy” (from her book The Will to Change: Men, Masculinity and Love) defines patriarchy as:
…a political-social system that insists that males are inherently dominating, superior to everything and everyone deemed weak, especially females, and endowed with the right to dominate and rule over the weak and to maintain that dominance through various forms of psychological terrorism and violence.
I know my mere mention of this definition alerts some men to prepare a defense. Here comes Jo with her feminist/womanist/ men stay losing talk. Not so. Although hooks defines patriarchy in respect to the way it oppresses and violates women, this post is about men- my brothers- who I hope can recognize how the boxes that allow them to dominate, control, and seem superior to others also entangle and entrap them. Khalil Gibran, in speaking of love, preaches, “For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you”(that’s another post, but WORD LIFE, Khalil). This hypothesis concerning love can also be applied to theories of sexism, misogyny and patriarchy, which is the social system that all of these behaviors are attributed to.
Patriarchy is a disease…
Patriarchy affects men so deeply, most times without them knowing, that the average man does not understand the term or its proper use. Yet, as hooks also points out, it is “the single most life-threatening social disease assaulting the male body and spirit in our nation.” Let’s pause. How can this be? How can a socio-political construct that provides men with so much privilege also threaten their health and livelihoods? Well there are volumes of books written to explore this ideal, but what sits at the center of it all is this: men, when they subscribe to traditional gender roles, are left without the ability to realize their full humanity.
Traditionally, men are raised to believe that God (who is male) created the world specifically for their use. They are born to conquer (with force) and are supposed to be as callous as stone. Men are never to be questioned, or better still to have questions. Boys don’t cry or show any emotion really- I mean not if they want to be considered a “real” boy and not some “sissy” or “faggot” (I deliberately use these belittling and offensive terms after thumbing through James Baldwin’s discussion of his encounters with sexism in his essay “Freaks and the American Ideal of Manhood”). Subsequently, women were designed by (the male) God to serve men on their quest to conquer…everything- other men, women, children, the world, the universe. Black men are especially negatively impacted by these connotations, because in many ways they are expected to be hyper-masculine.Western culture mandates that Black men are the most aggressive, dominating, and savage of all. At the same time however, Black men are often deprived of those privileges that allow them to be seen as a men- in the traditional sense of the word. Ralph Ellison’s Invisible Man comes to mind when I consider this dichotomy. He writes:
I am an invisible man. I am a man of substance, of flesh and bone, fiber and liquids – and I might even be said to possess a mind. I am invisible, understand, simply because people refuse to see me.
If such an opposition doesn’t create some sort of schizophrenia within Black men, I’m not sure what could. Our men are left to internalize this contradiction and attempt to maneuver through and around it in silence. Its and impossible feat that is killing them, inside and out.
Twitter tells no lies…
But what happens when one can not be the man society socializes him to be? A few of my twitter friends provided some exceptional insight when I asked, “How does patriarchy hurt men?” Alicia Sanchez (@aliciasanchez) sent me a link to this fantastic poster, which begins by stating, “For every girl who is tired of acting weak when she is strong, there is a boy who is tired of pretending to be strong when he feels vulnerable.” Wow. When I speak of men not being able to realize their full human potential, it begins precisely with this concept of masculinity. It is impossible for any human being to always be strong and courageous and fearless. Men though, are not allowed moments of fear, of indecision, of sadness- or even moments of extreme happiness or passion for that matter. The result of this lack of human feeling and emotion is a life of suppression, depression, and abuse towards those who are allowed to express those emotions and feelings. Lorde asserts:
Men who are afraid to feel must keep women around to do their feeling for them while dismissing us for the same supposedly “inferior” capacity to feel deeply. But in this way also, men deny themselves their own essential humanity, becoming trapped in dependency and fear.
She goes on to say that she challenges her son to fight patriarchy by not allowing him to think that she is to navigate his feelings for him. Epic. Another friend, Ndada Vaz (@cadillackitty) noted how men’s reading choices are affected by patriarchy, specifically in their not being avid readers of fiction. “… men read autobiographies, reports etc. because the emotion is removed in the ‘reporting’. in fiction emotion tends to be internal.” Hmph. What a nuanced form of oppression it is to have one’s reading habits dictated. Sure we are aware that women are told what to say and read, how to behave, what is socially acceptable and unacceptable, but we must also realize that men have the same demands placed upon them, and are none the better for it. What of the man who prefers to be an artist instead of a ball player (especially in the Black community)? Of course I know that there are Black male artists, just as there are Black female hoopers- the question is, what is the cost of the pursuit? And what happens to those men who are not strong enough to relinquish those crowns and privileges to be who they really desire to be?
I want a partnership, so should he…
Many of my male twitter friends, like Wise Naim (@wisemath) noted that patriarchy takes from men the opportunity to have true equally partnered relationships with women. I can personally attest to the reality of this issue. In many ways my ex husband was emotionally withdrawn and unavailable- not at all because he didn’t desire to be kind or caring, but because he didn’t feel that it was safe to do so, he didn’t have the tools to do it, and society told him that his wife (who is a woman) is not allowed to instruct him on how to. Additionally, other relationships that I’ve had ended because some of those men could not digest the idea that I may be more educated or earn more money than them. Traditionally, men are the providers and are supposed to be intellectually and financially superior to the women in their lives, therefore being with a woman who is smarter or more financially sound than him is deemed emasculating. Again, Black men are particularly affected by this issue because statistics show that in many cases Black women are better educated and higher paid. I sincerely believe that the fix to the many issues that Blacks face in love relationships lies in a need to shift the paradigm of traditional relationship and gender roles. Unfortunately, patriarchy does not allow for such transitions to be feasible. It’s tragic, really.
Patriarchy literally kills…
There is a much more gruesome manner in which patriarchy destroys men. It happens when this idea of dominating and killing overrides the basic decent and human characteristics that allow us to peacefully co-exist. One can consider the case of Tekerrious “T.K.” Jackson, a six year old boy who was beaten to death (over a period of weeks actually) by his father. When investigators asked Alex Duncan why (or how) he abused his son to the point of death, he replied “he was trying to discipline his child, to teach him how to “man up.”" The idea that a child is expected to be a man, and a man in a very violent and artificial manner, to the point where he loses his life is just inexplicably wretched. It may be safe to say that Duncan was repeating behavior that he himself was subjected to as a child and as an adult. Either way, a child is dead and another child (or possibly children) will undoubtedly grow up without a father.
We all lose when the mental disease of patriarchy inhibits us from reaching our full potential. The foremost quote in this post from Audre Lorde prescribes a solution to the dilemma we face. We simply have to raise our sons to be the men we want our daughters to live among. As women, we owe it to the men in our lives to address patriarchy at its core and explain that they don’t have to subscribe to the associated social mandates that are meant for their demise. Additionally, we must halt our own (often unchecked) perpetuation of patriarchy when we deal with men. As men, you have to be strong enough to be honest about who you are and demand your full humanity- to claim an existence that allows you to face disappointment, and hurt, and laughter, and love without feeling that those things make you unmanly. We just need to become better people. Period.
In closing, Lorde wrote this about raising her son:
The strongest lesson I can teach my son is the same lesson I teach my daughter: how to be who he wishes to be for himself…And this means how to move to that voice from within himself, rather than to those raucous, persuasive, or threatening voices from outside, pressuring him to be what the world wants him to be.
We all need healing. In the words of our African ancestors: Ase, let it come, let it be so.
Friday, July 16, 2010
Part I of Something Unexpected
“Rat poison should do the trick—it’s less detective,” Norah sighs as she slams down the receiver and leans against the wall fighting back tears.
Shelia, one of her closest and dearest girlfriends just informed her that she saw Norah’s husband enjoying the company of another woman at the Cabana Ultra Lounge last night in downtown Sacramento.
“She was tall, wearing a wavy wig. Thirty-five or so. I true believe. He was buying her champagne and showing her off to some business partners from work. Believe me—I would not tell you these things if I did not see them with my own eyes.”
Shelia pauses and Norah draws a deep breath—releases the air real fast.
“Are you sure Shelia, are you sure it was my Jason?”
“Of course it was HIM! I told you I saw him with my own true eyes God blessed me with. Girlfriend ‘dis is God’s honest truth. The only detail I failed to mention is that the Tall woman spoke with an unfamiliar accent. Maaaaaaaaay-be, (she drags the “a” as though in thought) from some island in the West Indies. I bet she is an illegal immigrant or something along those lines.”
“Okay girl, I believe you” Norah says.
She pictures the Tall woman Shelia just described; wavy wig and foreign accent.
“I thought it was important that I tell you. That’s what friends do. Now I feel terrible because I should have come over to tell you in person. I am sorry. Please let me know if I can do anything…….and one more thing, (she puts extra emphasis on one) do not tell Jason it was me who told you about the affair. You know how men get. I have done enough ALL-ready.” Shelia says loudly.
She walks back into the bedroom. The one she has only shared with her husband. Lies across their queen size bed. Jason never wanted to get a king size, because he said, “I fear it will make us grow apart—too much space is not good to sustain a healthy marriage.”
Lately, Jason has been working a lot of overtime at the office and getting home well after 11 P.M. on most nights. But he is always sure to call Norah and tell her “not to wait up,” and he always end the telephone conversation with “I love you dear.”
Norah now imagines Jason in the lounge with the Tall woman with the wavy wig and strange probably West Indian accent. She imagines the way he sucks her neck when they are making love, because he knows that is her weakest spot. Norah slowly turns over and looks up at the ceiling. Looking back at her is her own reflection. Jason had a ceiling- mirror installed when they first moved into their house. He decided that Greater Sacramento, Carmichael’s upscale mostly pale faced neighbor would be the perfect location to raise a family. The only problem, they have been living in the perfect home for nearly 4 years; and still, no children.
Secretly, not having any children upset Norah. She had not taken birth control for well over three years. She and Jason had been desperately trying to conceive for the past two. After the first year of trying to conceive and still no luck, Norah went to see her gynecologist to have infertility testing without Jason ever knowing. The results of the test were negative. The doctor even said her egg count was well within normal range for a woman her age and reassured her that she was in perfect health. However, the doctor did suggest Jason come in for testing. Norah knew she would not be able to convince her husband to visit a fertility clinic; just the thought of it would insult his manhood. So she put the possibilities of that becoming a reality far to the back of her mind as she did with many things these days.
Norah flashes back to the very first time she and Jason met. It was right after a breakup with her ex-boyfriend, Kevin. She was on an all girls’ vacation to the New Jersey Shore. As she was struggling to unload her designer Diane Von Furstenburg luggage, she looked over her shoulder and noticed a tall, premium Brazilian coffee colored skinned, well-defined features, thick eyebrows man with a smooth stride heading her way. He hurriedly ran over, grabbed Norah’s bags at the same time saying “let me get those for you.” Before Norah could turn down his help, he already had a bag in each hand.
Shelia, one of her closest and dearest girlfriends just informed her that she saw Norah’s husband enjoying the company of another woman at the Cabana Ultra Lounge last night in downtown Sacramento.
“She was tall, wearing a wavy wig. Thirty-five or so. I true believe. He was buying her champagne and showing her off to some business partners from work. Believe me—I would not tell you these things if I did not see them with my own eyes.”
Shelia pauses and Norah draws a deep breath—releases the air real fast.
“Are you sure Shelia, are you sure it was my Jason?”
“Of course it was HIM! I told you I saw him with my own true eyes God blessed me with. Girlfriend ‘dis is God’s honest truth. The only detail I failed to mention is that the Tall woman spoke with an unfamiliar accent. Maaaaaaaaay-be, (she drags the “a” as though in thought) from some island in the West Indies. I bet she is an illegal immigrant or something along those lines.”
“Okay girl, I believe you” Norah says.
She pictures the Tall woman Shelia just described; wavy wig and foreign accent.
“I thought it was important that I tell you. That’s what friends do. Now I feel terrible because I should have come over to tell you in person. I am sorry. Please let me know if I can do anything…….and one more thing, (she puts extra emphasis on one) do not tell Jason it was me who told you about the affair. You know how men get. I have done enough ALL-ready.” Shelia says loudly.
She walks back into the bedroom. The one she has only shared with her husband. Lies across their queen size bed. Jason never wanted to get a king size, because he said, “I fear it will make us grow apart—too much space is not good to sustain a healthy marriage.”
Lately, Jason has been working a lot of overtime at the office and getting home well after 11 P.M. on most nights. But he is always sure to call Norah and tell her “not to wait up,” and he always end the telephone conversation with “I love you dear.”
Norah now imagines Jason in the lounge with the Tall woman with the wavy wig and strange probably West Indian accent. She imagines the way he sucks her neck when they are making love, because he knows that is her weakest spot. Norah slowly turns over and looks up at the ceiling. Looking back at her is her own reflection. Jason had a ceiling- mirror installed when they first moved into their house. He decided that Greater Sacramento, Carmichael’s upscale mostly pale faced neighbor would be the perfect location to raise a family. The only problem, they have been living in the perfect home for nearly 4 years; and still, no children.
Secretly, not having any children upset Norah. She had not taken birth control for well over three years. She and Jason had been desperately trying to conceive for the past two. After the first year of trying to conceive and still no luck, Norah went to see her gynecologist to have infertility testing without Jason ever knowing. The results of the test were negative. The doctor even said her egg count was well within normal range for a woman her age and reassured her that she was in perfect health. However, the doctor did suggest Jason come in for testing. Norah knew she would not be able to convince her husband to visit a fertility clinic; just the thought of it would insult his manhood. So she put the possibilities of that becoming a reality far to the back of her mind as she did with many things these days.
Norah flashes back to the very first time she and Jason met. It was right after a breakup with her ex-boyfriend, Kevin. She was on an all girls’ vacation to the New Jersey Shore. As she was struggling to unload her designer Diane Von Furstenburg luggage, she looked over her shoulder and noticed a tall, premium Brazilian coffee colored skinned, well-defined features, thick eyebrows man with a smooth stride heading her way. He hurriedly ran over, grabbed Norah’s bags at the same time saying “let me get those for you.” Before Norah could turn down his help, he already had a bag in each hand.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
What is he saying?
May be he is saying:
If time could stand still, I’d freeze it here,
So you’d always hold me, close and near.
In your arms, where I’m meant to be,
Filled with the perfect love you’ve given me.
A bond so strong, a hold so tight,
To know you’re the one; my ‘Mrs. Right’.
A blessing sent from up above,
In you I’ve found my one true love.
Our lives entwined to be as one,
Upon this journey we’ve just begun.
Where you and I will find no less,
Than eternal love and happiness.
- K. S .-
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Half The Sky
Nicholas D. Kristof and Sheryl WuDunn want that to be appreciated — on the ground. --By IRSHAD MANJI, NYT
Half the Sky changed my life (for the better) in so many ways I do not know where to begin. This book is positively one of the most conscience inspiring books written. After the first page, the book captured my heart. This is such a well researched and well written book that I could not put it down. We all realize that women around the world face challenges that women in the United States never have to face. With that thought close to mind, plan to have your eyes opened when you open this book. I challenge you not to be moved, and I dare you to do nothing after reading it. The women who share their stories here are some of the most audacious and strongest women ever, and they are changing their world for the better.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Sunday, May 09, 2010
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Best Sellers
You are entering the.......
HaHa! Just kidding around.
For real though...
In search of enlightenment I have compiled a booklist to serve as my faithful companion in the months to come.
The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest
The Girl Who Played with Fire
The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo.....All By- Stieg Larsson
Little Bee- Chris Cleave
Shanghai Girls –Lisa See
Half the Sky: Turning Oppression into Opportunity for Women World Wide
By Nicholas Kristof, Sheryl WuDunn
Mudbound- Hillary Jordan
Made for Goodness: And why this makes all the difference Desmond Tutu & Mpho TuTu
Strength in What Remains- Tracy Kidder
What is the What: The Autobiography of Valentino Achak Ding by Dave Eggers
A Long Way Gone: Memoirs of a Boy Soldier by Ishmael Beah
The Help- Kathryn Stockett
I just finished A Piece of Cake by Cupcake Brown. All in all, a wonderfully paced memoir.
HaHa! Just kidding around.
For real though...
In search of enlightenment I have compiled a booklist to serve as my faithful companion in the months to come.
The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest
The Girl Who Played with Fire
The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo.....All By- Stieg Larsson
Little Bee- Chris Cleave
Shanghai Girls –Lisa See
Half the Sky: Turning Oppression into Opportunity for Women World Wide
By Nicholas Kristof, Sheryl WuDunn
Mudbound- Hillary Jordan
Made for Goodness: And why this makes all the difference Desmond Tutu & Mpho TuTu
Strength in What Remains- Tracy Kidder
What is the What: The Autobiography of Valentino Achak Ding by Dave Eggers
A Long Way Gone: Memoirs of a Boy Soldier by Ishmael Beah
The Help- Kathryn Stockett
I just finished A Piece of Cake by Cupcake Brown. All in all, a wonderfully paced memoir.
Thanks to my bookclub sisters, see yall' Saturday!
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
My Day with The Alchemist
This is an honest attempt to offer a brief retrospection of significant ideals I found most intriguing as I flipped through the pages of Paulo Coelho’s novel, The Alchemist.
This book has rested on my bookshelf for well over a year now; and it behooves me why I never took an immediate interest to read it before now. I am sure my disinterest has something to do with timing, along with my many reading mood swings and an overload of “must-read-books.” Whatever the case and cause, I am most pleased that the universe was in agreement this morning as I grabbed the book off the shelf. As fate would have it, The Alchemist satisfied my avidity for a better understanding about life, love and the magical powers of the universe.
It is getting late, so I am not going to entertain you with a bunch of literary criticism nor give explicit details about the entire story. Even though Paulo cunningly and brilliantly uses literary devices to his advantage in order to develop a clear message and masterpiece. However, I will keep it simple and hopefully craft out something useful; delivering it using my own personal style, whether it is grammatically correct or a bit blemished. Sometimes going against the grain gives a story voice; at least that is my intention.
It would be quite easy to simply say that The Alchemist is a great story; conversely, this would be an understatement and truly a disservice to the author. The Alchemist touched my inner being and spoke to me like no other book has done. When I need encouragement, wisdom, truth, knowledge and a teaspoon of inspiration I automatically look to J. Cooper, R. Warren, R. Wright, F. Haynes, M. Angelou, The Bible, The Koran (Qu'ran) and recently W. Kamkwamba (no particular order). Today I am adding to this list of great intellectuals Paulo Coelho, as I continue in the search for my “Personal Legend.”
Santiago is the main character that is faced with the decision of going after his dream of traveling verses becoming a Priest, as his parents had hoped. Ironically, he decides to go against is parent’s will and go after his dream of traveling, which in doing so he becomes a shepherd.
Through his travels as a young shepherd he conveniently meets a host of influential people who seem to push him toward his “Dream.” Eventually, Santiago decides to pursue his dream of going to the Great Pyramids of Giza to find his treasure (true calling). In short, Santiago’s persistence to find great fortune and wealth articulates the notion of going after ones dreams in order to find your personal identity is worth taking the risk. In a real sense, this applies to the universal theme of life, fulfillment. In risk taking there are always tests. Notably, the test of trusting oneself as Paulo cleverly demonstrates throughout the story. Santiago had to allow trust into his heart since “the fear of suffering is worse than the suffering itself.” Trust is the ultimate objective in the search for identity. When we doubt ourselves as Santiago did, we are sometimes fortunate enough to have the right person there to step in and give us confidence. That is the idea that “when you want something, the entire universe conspires in helping you to achieve it.” In simpler terms, this means when you want something in life it is most probable that the universe will be of assistance in gaining it for the only “thing that makes a dream impossible to achieve…[is] the fear of failure.” By the same token, your personal identity will not be granted without recognizing the authenticity of dreams.
Fast forward to one of my favorite parts, i.e., Santiago meets Fatima.
As Santiago continues his quest to find his treasure, he meets Fatima; and falls in love with her the moment he lays eyes on her. At this point in Santiago’s quest his heart allows him to trust the world as the soul of it speaks to that part of him that makes him feel what real love feels like. Fatima’s uncommon way of showing him her love makes Santiago to be even more devoted to her. I say uncommon because she loves him enough to not stand in the way of him going after his Personal Legend. Fatima is wise beyond her years. She realizes Santiago would probably eventually resent his decision to stay with her if she insisted that he give up on his dream. Instead, she speaks to him in a way no other woman has ever done-- “you told me that you loved me. Then, you taught me something of the Universal Language and the Soul of the World. Because of that, I have become part of you.” She gives him confidence to continue his journey toward self-fulfillment –“the dunes are changed by the wind, but the desert never changes. That’s the way it will be with our love for each other.”
For me, Fatima is like a sister that has always been apart of my life. In my own personal journey in trying to find answers about life and its coincidences; it is clearer to me why I have had and continue to go through certain tests. The test of life is finding-“Discovering things along the way that I never would have seen, had I not had the courage to try things that seemed impossible to achieve.”
And with that chew and please swallow post…..I’m bushed. Though there are many motifs I didn’t touch on, I hope that I have shared with you my opinions of The Alchemist and of my personal reflective life experiences I found important as I read the book.
Maktub!
*If you want to know what the word Alchemist/Alchemy means, you’ll have to read it for yourself.
Tuesday, March 02, 2010
Thursday, February 25, 2010
What Is Love?
The word love is not just “like a whole lot”. There are many forms of love. And they are not equal.
Our english language does not explain them very well. Ancient Greek had five different words for love.
Storge – natural affection for your family
Eros – attractive and possessive love
Epithumia – lust or passion
Filio – love/friendship/to kiss
Agape- self-sacrificing love, unselfinterested love
I think there is a hierarchy of love:
Storge, Eros and Epithumia can not replace Filio or Agape. Agape is the greatest of all.
Storge I find to be the lowest form of love…its what keeps a mother saying she loves her son when he is a mass murder or rapist.
Eros is lust – where we get the word erotic from and I think we all know what it means
Epithumia is a step beyond Eros – With Epithumia you can “love a person – yet kill them to keep them from leaving you”. If you truly loved a person – you would wish for their happiness even if it ment being apart from you.
Filio is where the word Philadelphia comes from…brotherly love. It actually means “to kiss on the cheek”.
Agape – love given freely with no expectation of return.
Agape love the highest form of love. It is “if you love it you let it go” love. Agape love means you give with no expectation of receiving anything in return. If we all had agape love the world would be a better place. Agape love means you love a person even when they can’t love you in return. Agape love means loving enough to let a person go. It means loving a child enough to tell them no even when that makes them cry their eyes out. Agape love means putting others before you.
The beautiful thing about Agape is, the more you give out, the more filled you will be.
Monday, February 22, 2010
Thursday, February 18, 2010
A remarkable story of courage and determination. William has inspired me to go that extra mile when I think my goals are unattainable. You only get one life, so make the best of it with what you have, and where you are. Thanks William.
-T. Williams
“The Boy Who Harnessed the Wind” is the inspiring story of a young man in Africa who used the only resources available to him to build a windmill and elevate the lives and spirits of those in his community. William Kamkwamba’s achievements with wind energy should serve as a model of what one person, with an inspired idea, can do to tackle the crisis we face. His book tells a moving and exciting story.”
— Al Gore, former Vice President and Nobel Laureate
“This is an amazing, inspiring, and heartwarming story! It’s about harnessing the power not just of the wind but of imagination and ingenuity. Those are the most important forces we have for saving the planet. William Kamkwamba is a hero for our age.”
— Walter Isaacson, author, Einstein: His Life and Universe
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Sunday, January 10, 2010
He IS
Since I failed to mention the importance of letting go and letting God in my last entry, Please allow me to do so at this time (that’s the good thing about God’s grace, he allows us to repent of our sins and hold no ill will).
In order for 2010 to be a year filled with blessings from the most high. I am a true believer that it is of great importance to do away with worrying about trivial and unimportant matters that I have no control over. As I sat in church today, I was reminded that God has and will always supply all of my needs. The foundation of all my endeavors must be to always put God first and everything else will fall into its rightful place. Not to say that I will have a year without trials and distress. I will be better prepared to handle and make wiser decisions. So, as I start this journey into 2010 I will keep God’s words close to my heart (mind).
I will never get this thing called Life right. Hey, But I'm quite alright with that!
Matthew 6:25-34 (New International Version)
Do Not Worry
25"Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes? 26Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? 27Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life[a]?
28"And why do you worry about clothes? See how the lilies of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. 29Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. 30If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? 31So do not worry, saying, 'What shall we eat?' or 'What shall we drink?' or 'What shall we wear?' 32For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. 33But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. 34Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.
In order for 2010 to be a year filled with blessings from the most high. I am a true believer that it is of great importance to do away with worrying about trivial and unimportant matters that I have no control over. As I sat in church today, I was reminded that God has and will always supply all of my needs. The foundation of all my endeavors must be to always put God first and everything else will fall into its rightful place. Not to say that I will have a year without trials and distress. I will be better prepared to handle and make wiser decisions. So, as I start this journey into 2010 I will keep God’s words close to my heart (mind).
I will never get this thing called Life right. Hey, But I'm quite alright with that!
Matthew 6:25-34 (New International Version)
Do Not Worry
25"Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes? 26Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? 27Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life[a]?
28"And why do you worry about clothes? See how the lilies of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. 29Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. 30If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? 31So do not worry, saying, 'What shall we eat?' or 'What shall we drink?' or 'What shall we wear?' 32For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. 33But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. 34Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.
Thursday, January 07, 2010
Twenty-Ten
2010 is now. I am looking forward to not only a good year, but a great
decade. Moving forward I will lay the groundwork for many projects and
initiatives. I find it important to emphasize and remind myself of the
philosophy that will reside as the foundation of these efforts: Quality
over Quantity. It is a simple idea but one that gets lost in the shuffle
of everyday operations. I am different. I set my own standard. I play by
my own terms since I have decided to participate in this game of life.
So even if it takes more time to produce a great work then so be
it. At the end of it all, the product and process is more important than
the payout. Besides, if I produce enough quality I'll eventually have
quantity. It's that simple. Looking ahead to a good Life.
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Life's Experiences
Life is the sum of experiences that we encounter as go through life. Day to day struggles and triumphs are experienced by all of the world's creatures. As human beings, when we encounter a challenge, we have freedom to choose how to react. Every decision that we make leads us down another road. We will never come to exactly the same crossroads. Every decision that we make has significance. Even the tiniest choice that is made reverberates throughout the entire universe.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Purple Hibiscus
Please allow me to apologize in advance if I seem to ramble throughout this entry. That is not my intent. I can’t seem to stay focused on one topic for too long without some other thought fighting to take its place (like crabs in a bucket).
Last week I finally read Purple Hibiscus by Chimamanda Adichie.
Awesome! Amazing! Inspirational!
The unimaginable magnitude of those words do not deliver enough praise for this emotional story.
I came across Chimamanda Adichie this summer when I was looking for a book by Chinua Achebe, author of Things Fall Apart, and the search engine suggested Purple Hibiscus and The Thing Around Your Neck. Not giving it much attention, I decided to purchase something else. Then a couple of weeks ago, I received a video clip email displaying a remarkable woman telling of her experience being an Nigerian girl coming of age, The Danger of a Single Story. Adichie’s speech had an immediate effect on me and made me question the way I view people from different parts of the world. So I put her book back on my to-read list.
Not having studied Nigeria’s historical roots; Adichie’s words vividly set the stage in describing the complexity of political affairs and family life, I suppose for many Nigerian people during that particular time period (1980’s ?).
From the start, protagonist Kamili wins my heart. A fifteen year-old devout catholic girl whose family is of wealth and privilege works hard to garner her father’s love. Only to have her father scold her with hot tea, brutally beat her and God only knows what else to her mentally.
Most of the native Nigerian’s view Kamili’s father as the “Big Man” or Omelora. In my own opinion he is best characterized as a hypocrite. He undeniably gives large sums of money to the people of Nigeria, but at the same time is a cruel dictator towards his family, including his own father (Papa Nnukwu). Papa Nnukwu’s character is brilliantly fantastic. He definitely reminds me of my own paternal grandfather’s bizarre behavior. Being that he is a talented storyteller and wise man who keeps old traditions alive. You can’t help but to love him.
After much persuasion, Kamili’s father finally agrees to let his children visit his sister and her two children in the town of Nsukka. This is where Kamili’s life starts to transform for the better; however, her father’s ridiculous behavior becomes more outlandish. So outlandish it drives his wife to put poison in his tea.
Ameka is one other character that stood out in the story. Ameka is Kamili’s loud, opinionated, and sharp-mind cousin. Ameka’s upbringing is the total opposite of Kamili’s. Ameka’s mother is a single parent and teaches at the local college. Ameka’s mother is accused of encouraging students to revolt against the unjust practices of the Head of State. She is forced to quit her job and decides to move to America.
Adichie’s use of Igbo language sometimes is not translated well; nonetheless, it does not take away from the contextual meaning of the story. Her ability to create compelling characters is solidly crafted. Purple Hibiscus is a wonderful read.
I could go on forever about this great find, but I invite you to form your own opinion. Soon enough I will discuss in greater detail about how this book has truly helped me to find peace. I now look forward to reading Half a Yellow Sun and The Thing Around Your Neck.
On to other stuff….
I just forced myself to finish reading Maya Angelou’s Letter to My Daughter. Not at all what I expected. The first couple of letters held my attention, but after that it was quite boring. May be I think I know too much or just tired of conventional wisdom for the moment. What ever it is, I hope to gain knowledge from my own experiences.
Right now on my nightstand I have Reinventing the Woman by Patty Rice and What They Found Love on 145th Street, Walter Dean Myers. Neither title is of interest. So I will not ramble on any longer. The perfect song for a beautiful ending.
Working this thing called Life!
Last week I finally read Purple Hibiscus by Chimamanda Adichie.
Awesome! Amazing! Inspirational!
The unimaginable magnitude of those words do not deliver enough praise for this emotional story.
I came across Chimamanda Adichie this summer when I was looking for a book by Chinua Achebe, author of Things Fall Apart, and the search engine suggested Purple Hibiscus and The Thing Around Your Neck. Not giving it much attention, I decided to purchase something else. Then a couple of weeks ago, I received a video clip email displaying a remarkable woman telling of her experience being an Nigerian girl coming of age, The Danger of a Single Story. Adichie’s speech had an immediate effect on me and made me question the way I view people from different parts of the world. So I put her book back on my to-read list.
Not having studied Nigeria’s historical roots; Adichie’s words vividly set the stage in describing the complexity of political affairs and family life, I suppose for many Nigerian people during that particular time period (1980’s ?).
From the start, protagonist Kamili wins my heart. A fifteen year-old devout catholic girl whose family is of wealth and privilege works hard to garner her father’s love. Only to have her father scold her with hot tea, brutally beat her and God only knows what else to her mentally.
Most of the native Nigerian’s view Kamili’s father as the “Big Man” or Omelora. In my own opinion he is best characterized as a hypocrite. He undeniably gives large sums of money to the people of Nigeria, but at the same time is a cruel dictator towards his family, including his own father (Papa Nnukwu). Papa Nnukwu’s character is brilliantly fantastic. He definitely reminds me of my own paternal grandfather’s bizarre behavior. Being that he is a talented storyteller and wise man who keeps old traditions alive. You can’t help but to love him.
After much persuasion, Kamili’s father finally agrees to let his children visit his sister and her two children in the town of Nsukka. This is where Kamili’s life starts to transform for the better; however, her father’s ridiculous behavior becomes more outlandish. So outlandish it drives his wife to put poison in his tea.
Ameka is one other character that stood out in the story. Ameka is Kamili’s loud, opinionated, and sharp-mind cousin. Ameka’s upbringing is the total opposite of Kamili’s. Ameka’s mother is a single parent and teaches at the local college. Ameka’s mother is accused of encouraging students to revolt against the unjust practices of the Head of State. She is forced to quit her job and decides to move to America.
Adichie’s use of Igbo language sometimes is not translated well; nonetheless, it does not take away from the contextual meaning of the story. Her ability to create compelling characters is solidly crafted. Purple Hibiscus is a wonderful read.
I could go on forever about this great find, but I invite you to form your own opinion. Soon enough I will discuss in greater detail about how this book has truly helped me to find peace. I now look forward to reading Half a Yellow Sun and The Thing Around Your Neck.
On to other stuff….
I just forced myself to finish reading Maya Angelou’s Letter to My Daughter. Not at all what I expected. The first couple of letters held my attention, but after that it was quite boring. May be I think I know too much or just tired of conventional wisdom for the moment. What ever it is, I hope to gain knowledge from my own experiences.
Right now on my nightstand I have Reinventing the Woman by Patty Rice and What They Found Love on 145th Street, Walter Dean Myers. Neither title is of interest. So I will not ramble on any longer. The perfect song for a beautiful ending.
Working this thing called Life!
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