Wise Men Vs. Mad Men

A balance. Must man always find a balance? I wonder about this as I sit in my living tonight room with my partner. We are two totally different people. He is wise and I am mad. He moves deliberately and I move without much real thought or care. I give way to my mood swings and he is the total opposite. The mood he awakes in, in the morning is the mood he will more than likely remain in for the rest of the day. Of course, there are a few exceptions.

I was reading the bible tonight (Proverbs) and people with my huband's wisdom seems to be highly favored. In fact, the bible gives a lot of advice to men and women who succumb to their passions. It says that we are under the control of something --or somebody. I for one, believe that. Personally speaking, I am a slave to several different things; so is my husband but in many holy books his methods of doing things are still preferred over mines. Why is that?

In my most honest personal opinion, the wise man is the chosen one because he causes very little confusion and has the uncanny ability to please all parties involved in a dispute or altercation. Who wouldn't want that? Every person I know can appreciate the fact that there is someone who can sit down, listen to almost any argument, disagreement or discussion and not only see the views of every person involved but also UNDERSTAND what it takes to keep all interested parties satisfied. He is a rarity, and to be celebrated.

I can tell you from experience this is not the way that matters are handles by passionate people. We operate from a very selfish stand point. Many of us actually believe the way we think is the ONLY way to think. I love Hermann Hesse books, but can tell you if you were to talk to him he would probably appear overly confident and self absorbed. It really takes an unique soul to believe that their way is the only way to live, function and thrive in the world. Not everyone can do it. Not every man will have his or her own philosophy. If they do, not all will profess it like it is The Only Truth.

Wise men know better and that is why certain books like Proverbs in the bible make a lot of sense. Buddha, Ghandi, Martin Luther King Jr. and the works of women like Mother Teresa normally strike a cord with me and I'd imagine it would be the same for others. I admire people who understand the importance of patience, people, peace and love. Many times they are the people whom we wild creatures go to for our own dose of "wisdom." Kenny is my sounding board which I could never do without. He endures the ups and downs and I dish them out. All in all he is my rock.

I will admit, there is a certain appeal to a wise person. They are slow to judge. This one fact puts them in a category all by themselves and keeps them surrounded with both dedicated and loyal friends. The mad man can not say the same and that is why you have more wild self imposed hermits. Those with the fire will eventually burn out because the energy he puts out is rarely reciprocated. Wise men do not run off into the mountains of Switzerland like the most passionate men but dies amongst his people.

It has nothing to do with ego either. Kenny may be wise but he has an ego. I've seen it. But at the same time, that is what makes him so great; he masters it.

I must admit I am also in awe of writers such as Oscar Wilde who said, "We teach people how to remember, we never teach them how to grow." The more feral and liberated the individual the more I am attracted to them. I despise consistency, boredom and lack of imagination. Structure and details gives me a headache but not the wise man.

All in all, I probably make more mistakes than my husband who evaluates everything, unlike me who jumps in head first...but I like the way I live. I enjoy the person I have become. In many ways, I toy with life and take almost everything for granted. I am the spice of the universe.

But wisdom is the key that is needed in life.

John Burroughs - Look Under Foot

"The lesson which life repeats and constantly enforces is "look under foot"
You are always nearer the divine and the true sources of your power than you think.
The lure of the distant and the difficult is deceptive.
The great opportunity is where you are.
Do not despise your own place and hour.
Every place is under the stars, every place is of the world."

John Burroughs

Langston Hughes: Dreams & A Dream Deferred

I heard Bro. Sunship from Assata's Forum say this: "I ponder over and over again what Langston Hughes so eloquently alluded to in prose, “what eventually happens when a dream is deferred?”

Could oppression, repression, our diets, some of our most caustic music, let alone the schizo way we have to relate to this bastardize reality finally metastasize into a nurturing of mental illness in some socio-psychological sense over time?

Can hundreds of thousands of years of our brains being developed in a certain conducive and natural environment be finally finding it impossible to ward off, or assimilate into, or decipher this racist exilic madness called, western civilization?

How long did we think Africans (the original people) could survive under another’s cultural behaviorisms, which we see is further distorting man’s relationship to the natural and the spirit world?"

Every time I read those paragraphs I feel a deep punch to the gut. I have thought long and hard on this topic --what happens when a dream is deferred? Have you ever thought about it? I have, and too often I see that the people without dreams, faith and determination check out early. It's hard to reach them.

A DREAM DEFERRED

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?

Langston Hughes


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DREAMS

Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.
Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field
Frozen with snow.

Langston Hughes

PS. If anybody is interested in Brother SunShip's full comment let me know and I will do the necessary digging and get it back to you.

Ain't I A Woman

Well, children, where there is so much racket there must be something out of kilter. I think that 'twixt the negroes of the South and the women at the North, all talking about rights, the white men will be in a fix pretty soon. But what's all this here talking about?

That man over there says that women need to be helped into carriages, and lifted over ditches, and to have the best place everywhere. Nobody ever helps me into carriages, or over mud-puddles, or gives me any best place! And ain't I a woman?

Look at me! Look at my arm! I have ploughed and planted, and gathered into barns, and no man could head me! And ain't I a woman? I could work as much and eat as much as a man - when I could get it - and bear the lash as well! And ain't I a woman? I have borne thirteen children, and seen most all sold off to slavery, and when I cried out with my mother's grief, none but Jesus heard me! And ain't I a woman?

Then they talk about this thing in the head; what's this they call it? [member of audience whispers, "intellect"] That's it, honey. What's that got to do with women's rights or negroes' rights? If my cup won't hold but a pint, and yours holds a quart, wouldn't you be mean not to let me have my little half measure full?

Then that little man in black there, he says women can't have as much rights as men, 'cause Christ wasn't a woman! Where did your Christ come from? Where did your Christ come from? From God and a woman! Man had nothing to do with Him.

If the first woman God ever made was strong enough to turn the world upside down all alone, these women together ought to be able to turn it back , and get it right side up again! And now they is asking to do it, the men better let them.

Obliged to you for hearing me, and now old Sojourner ain't got nothing more to say.

A Poem For My Mother

Her hair is very long, luscious, dark and wavy...when gathered together in your hands it smells as if the earth conspired with her sometime ago...and agreed to show her favor...her skin gives off the appearance of butter milk...wet and youthful...like dew... mysterious to all of those around her...including herself...her smile spoke of what could have been...days before...her demeanor was always luke warm...she haunted the daydreams of those that desired to penetrate deeper but would always be forbidden.

she's very unique.

each time I fall asleep.

I desire to know more about my mother.

Dedicated to Sister Seeking: And to Any Other Woman Who Seeks

And like that it's all over. I've exhausted all possibilities with my relatives and came up empty-handed with nothing to show for it either. No more, guys. If you are one of the very few people brave enough to stop the cycle of abuse, break all ties to any of your family members who are unwilling to get professional help. There is nothing you can do for them. They will always see themselves as victims.

Here are a few of the many comments that have changed my mind. If you care to, you are more than welcomed (and even encouraged) to follow the discussion here at: http://muslimbushido.blogspot.com/2008/09/reality-check-what-black-underclass-is.html

First, let me give you a little background on what I am talking about. A while back I posted a blog entry titled, Why I Can't Just Pull An Antwon Fisher. It was written because I was still emotionally attached to my siblings and to my mother. I knew I needed to do something extreme as Antwon did but at that time I was still emotionally chained. But G-d knows my heart.

Yesterday I read the very first comment below and it put me on the spot. It was like holding a mirror up at myself. Then I woke up and read the remaining comments that I'll share with you. I have been in a daze ever since.

Sister Khadija made this comment: "It sickens me when people are shocked when I say the following: Once I find out that a woman is dating, affiliating, or whatever with a man who is a sexual predator, I cut that woman off. Completely. I don't care who they are. Or who they USED TO BE to me.

This comment forced me to admit that my mother and siblings should have NO contact with any of the men that molested me. None what so ever. But they do…they all do.

And sister Khadija also made this comment: "The mothers who've allowed their children to be molested viewed themselves as victims. Everything is always all about them. No matter what they have done, they see themselves as the "true" victims in every situation."

Want me to tell you something? I just spoke to my mother last year about still having dealings with one of the jerks who molested me, and she told me I was being selfish and only thinking about myself because she needed him to help out of a physical altercation with her husband. She called the man who----

Sister Seeking said this: "I know first hand by intimate personal experience that when you do view them as victims you reinforce their world view. I'd like to add something else to that: when a whole group of people buy into the victimization scandal it punishes innocent by standards. Case and point: when I terminated my mothers parental rights I was emotionally bullied by all my biological family members as being "selfish" " ungrateful" "hateful" and get this: "IMPATIENT."

This comment hit home with me because since I came back from visiting my family in Philadelphia this past May, I have been emotionally bullied by my mother's support team because I can not just "forgive" her. People in my family has this sick notion that I should just be more grateful and less selfish.

Sister Seeking: "Saying all of this to say: I don't have a bond with ANY of my biological family members because of their refusal to get professional help which is free as well as their refusal to take personal responsibility and manage their life."

I'll let this statement stand alone.

Sister Seeking: "Do you know what I believe brought us to our place of rest today? In addition to G-d's mercy, I believe that people like us have a certain degree of rebelliousness--a higher level of resilience that was present from birth on. From a preschooler on, I always knew something was terribly wrong with my family, and childhood. From early on I developed a protest spirit refusing to be beat down or beat up by other people. My defiance or " oppositional disorder" was not a result of mental illness, drugs, or the desire to rebel against authority--it was my innate disposition to rebel against oppression, and just pure evil. The flame inside me never has died. This is why I recognized early on that I was going to become another statistic if I didn't get out of the foster care system--and fast. This is why I terminated my mothers parental rights. And today with only a meek, and humble heart to the Almighty can a truly declare victory becuase I refused to pissed on, and defecated on by people. I did waver but my anger motivated me to fight back."

I'm done guys. Just like that it's finished. I have no ties with any of my biological family on my mother's side. I can't tell you what it's like but it is different. I am even really proud of myself for this last step because my elder was not here when I took it. These comments really resonated with me in such a way I walked right out of bondage. Just walked out of the chains. I'll remember this day for the rest of my life.

Imani Uzuri

I was thinking about keeping this a blog where I focus strictly on overcoming abuse, but part of overcoming is smiling, dancing and reaching out to others. With that being said, I really think is one of the world's greatest artist. Her name is Imani Uzuri. Her album is titled, Her Hold Water: A Black Girl's Rock Opera. Check her out here: http://www.myspace.com/herholywater

She' really nothing like I've ever heard before. She has this one song on her cd titled, Ishi. That song is perfect. I really hope you guys enjoy this video. The title of this song is Sun Moon Child.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Evu2JMLwNak&feature=related

Uncontained Love

Ever since I was a little girl, I've had a lot of love to give. It went unappreciated, so I was forced to create another persona to deal with all of the abuse. It wasn't easy -but it was necessary. It was necessary for me to become aggressive, strong, and paranoid in order to protect the little girl that I was inside. Sometimes I dreamed of her.

I am pushing thirty years old, and already it is beginning to show. I have a head dedicated to accepting new gray members daily, and my body refuses to heal at the speed it did when I was fifteen. And with this age, come a cross road. Do I continue to be hard or step back and allow my little girl to come forth? And this little girl that I am referring to is "ALL LOVE". I know nothing else about her, except she was important enough to be saved and rescued from a life of pain and misery. She was worthwhile. Instead of being molested and beaten with a paddle, I put myself in her place. She never saw or felt a thing. I protected her. She cried for me. I weathered THEIR damn storm. She provided me with the unconditional love I needed to overcome and maintain my sanity. Now she asks to be let out. To be freed from behind the exterior and allowed to get her feet wet. I cried for her last night. I was scared for her. Most people are not able to properly process pure untainted love. (If you are reading this, ask yourself when was the last time you returned my love for you?)

Love in our society is very much looked over and rejected -especially one as pure, wild, and strong as mines. I am a woman of extreme passion, with a lot of love to give. And I owe this little girl (me) a chance to express herself without limits. Without boundaries. It is actually the natural way of the Woman.

So, I chose to free her. If she chooses to come back, I'll have her. But, she was freed last night. At first, I didn't recognize her because she has grown into a woman as well. A lovely tanned skinned woman, with long thick hair, porcelain smooth like skin, white teeth and a mesmerizing smile. She came forth through tears, then through my pores, and finally through my dreams. It wasn't easy. We struggled as I slept, but I was no match for her gentle warm caring confident presence. She knew it, and with a kiss on my forehead nestled my thoughts back to sleep. I require rest. It is time for her to go out into the world and finish what she is here to do. She was first. I was created to protect her.

My time here is finished. Like spring after winter -but like summer, I'll be around.

Hold Them Accountable

Every person has the right to chose the life they want to live. The choice is personal, but know this; if you dedicate your life to doing good, telling the truth and loving nature and people in their purest form, your efforts combined with other positives make up the collective good in the universe. This also applies to the individuals who contributes nothing but negativity, evil, manipulation and aggression. Their works along with others negativity makes up the collective force behind evil. As I said before every man has the right to choose what force his works will be a part of. But NO man is above being held accountable.

-Latasha Dale

Stay Away From Me

I was speaking with my father yesterday and he told me that one of his friends was arrested for soliciting a prostitute last week. This guy is in his early 50's and was walking down the street when we was approached by a woman. No one knows what happened after that, but the guy was arrested and taken to jail. Was he trying to have sex with a prostitute? Was he in the wrong place at the wrong time? Could have this man have been innocent? The answer to all three questions could be yes, or no. He could have very well been innocent and at the wrong place at the wrong time, and that is how we will approach this issue.

Most of my writings are for those trying to get themselves into better situations. Overcoming childhoods of abuse and spending the last years of their lives doing what they would like to do. Well, in order to do that you must become selfish. That man had already served several prison sentences and what he failed to realize (hopefully he does now) is that you have to STAY AWAY from people who do NOT have your best interest at heart. You have to not only cut existing ties with those who mean you no good but also stay away from almost everyone UNTIL you get the skills needed to establish a better support system. And during this time you'll probably be alone and without anyone to talk to, but this time of repose and silence is needed for the next phase.

My father commented on the small number of friends I have now. He's right. I can count on one hand the number of people I call my friend. If I can not sit in silence with you, we are not friends. We may be family, associates, and neighbors but we are not friends. I value my friendships, and a friend will not purposely get you into trouble. A friend understands your path. Slow to judge, quick to love...you get my point. If you are trying to leave a part of your past behind, you have to leave certain people behind. It is the way of the universe. It has nothing to do with judging other people. In fact, in the animal kingdom the weakest is preyed upon. In the animal kingdom, the weak is LEFT behind. It's nothing personal. It's a matter of survival. You go back and help when (and only when) you are strong enough. Until then, Autobots (Transformers) move out.

Had my father's friend knew this, he would have ran away from that woman. He would have fled like the birds fly south for the winter and never looked back. There is no friendship to be forged with people who can not help you elevate to the next level, mentally or spiritually. Be ruthless if you must. It's your right. But stay away from trouble.

The Others

In this world people would like to know, where are the others? Where are the people who have overcome? Who are the individuals living lives of joy? Where can I find these people? In a time of blogs, magazines, internet, cable, and other media outlets you have to have your eyes peeled, and your ears have to be open. You'll have to want to learn more than you desire to teach. You'll have to be patient and endure whatever it is that you must. And one day when you are stuck in a rut, sitting down at the park, on a bench barely standing, she'll join you. And she'll give you what you need at that moment. This can be a male or female. Age is just a number in this matters. Looks can be deceiving. Listen for the message. Listen for the message. Listen to the heart. Be still. Let them do the talking. Let them do the explaining. Let them show you what is required of you during your next few lessons. In them you'll see where you'll soon be. But you have to be open, ready. Your body will know when the lesson is needed and take you through the necessary changes in order to prepare. Your mind gets you ready. And you wait for the day the lesson shows up. You've prepared for this but have been discouraged for a while. That's understandable.

As long as there is evils and injustices against anybody there will be someone to speak up. Irregardless of class, education, or wealth. As long as there is somebody crying, there will be someone who feels that pain. I see that now. As long as there is a voice not being heard, there will be a person who bears that responsibility. It is not a burden but there duty. It is the way of the universe. It is the way we care for one another. They can flood us with televisions, and materials but it will always be someone who prefers the simple life, and his/her voice will speak volumes when the times comes. I know that now. I am on the side of good. I am on the winning side.

I started off this blog by talking about the others. We exists. We work right beside as you talk about your hardships and misery's. We are listening to the voices of evil and combating them on every level, but you have to look for us. We are being bombarded and attacked as well. But you have to trust that as long as there is someone being mistreated or abused we are in full bloom. You will not have to wait long, but you will have to prove yourself worthy or you will be dismissed. You know if this message is for you. You knew as soon as you began reading. Do your part, we shall do ours. We'll meet when necessary. We'll share, and depart. There is work to do.

Leave inspired, strive for excellence and speak out against evils. You will be lonely but you will save more people than you will destroy. You will build up what has been tore down. You will manage to do what few people have ever been able to do, make a difference.

Excellent

Today I...

I conceived and delivered my daughter when I was only 16 years old. Today she is twelve years old and is as kind as she is loving. She's an extraordinary young woman, whose very in-tuned with her surroundings. An articulate, and confident person who will give you her last but she is not to be crossed. I really like that about her. Some of her favorite activities includes socializing with friends, traveling, reading (She loves R.L. Stine) learning and gazing at boys. She is on the cross country track team and plays the cello.

I told you about her because I am 29 years old, gave birth to my daughter when I was a teen and my daughter has been talking about college for the last year. I broke one hell of a cycle. I take a lot of pride in this fact. You would to.

And this is what I saw today.

Today I ...

saw a beautiful, beautiful sculpted and perfectly toned black woman with the body of a runner. Her skin was the color of coffee, smooth and flawless. She was picture perfect. I have never seen a woman so exquisite. I spoke to her because I had to.

smelled someone's overpowering perfume, and I wanted to sneeze but it never amounted to anything other than a slight headache.

enjoyed watching my daughter prepare for her first cross country race. She's amazing.

heard children screaming and playing at the playground.

saw a black man who stood about 6' 7" tall, and weighted close to about 300 pounds (all muscle). He wore a bald head and his back pack weighted about 100 pounds. As I watched him walk up a hill, carrying his backpack, he really looked like an orge.

saw a little boy wearing a shirt that read, "I'm your worse nightmare." I responded by telling his mother that the shirt was intended for her because nightmares are known to follow people home at night. (I wonder will she allow him to wear that shirt again)

saw true teamwork. The winners of the purple team went back and helped their stragglers. It was really moving to see such involvement. I got teary eyed just by watching it.

Today I felt emotional as my daughter ran her 2 mile race. She never gave up, and stayed behind with another team mate in order to motivate her. She has one of the kindest hearts I have ever come across. She is my champ.

Take Away Her Pain

Sometimes I am completely shocked at the number of people who are not up in arms about something that is going on. There are so many injustices where does one start? I don't know. But what I do know is that I care. I care that in Forrest City, Arkansas, an eighteen year old male was charged with the rape of his eight day old daughter. And the sad thing is that this is not the first time a newborn baby has been violated in such a horrible way. I care that everyday there is a black little girl that goes missing and she does not get the national media attention that a white little girl receives. It just isn't fair. I am outraged that crimes are being perpetrated against little black females everyday, and when they yell out for help it never comes. Why does help come for some people and not for others?
As a child, I was forced to perform oral sex on my cousin David, and help never came. No one ever made David pay for what he did to me. He never made things better. I did. I wrote him a letter of forgiveness a few years ago. I released his hold on me because it was holding me back. But no one made him pay for what he did to me. In fact, my siblings, uncle and mother all have dealings with this guy. No one cares. No one protects the black woman. She quickly learns that all crimes committed against her are perceived as a joke. Who in the hell cares?
I protected my children from most things. As a young mother I was stupid, but I always knew that it was just a matter of time before I stopped neglecting my responsibilities and stepped up to the plate.
People have to pay for their crimes and more people should make sure they do. I have a serious interest in the black woman/girl/female. I love her voice.
I once heard a person say, "There will always be crimes." To which I responded, "And there will always be people speaking out against those crimes."

We are living in a world full of babies. Is there not anyone wise among us? What about you college educated guy? What about you CEO? Is there not one living human being left on earth? Is there not one person looking to upgrade their materials? Please tell me this isn't so. Is there not one of you who can bring a smile to someone else? The world is filled with bastards and wenches.

There is no god just me. Pray to me and you will receive. Pray to him, he has nothing.

PS. I am no longer going to be sympathetic towards those who are stupid and cowards.

Validate Another Human Being

It's the sickest behavior I have come across and the higher up on the class ladder you go the more you'll notice it. I am talking about being used by people who constantly need their egos boosted and validated. If you come across a person who will only extend themselves to you if you are boosting up their ego, leave them alone. Do your business with them and give them back to the wolves.
Remember you are no ones servant, or subject. You are ENTITLED to live a successful and healthy life and what that boils down to is having whatever you put out reciprocated. This is the rule of life. It's very basic. Only those who value you, respect you as their equal, and honor your friendship is worth your time. Do NOT sell your soul to be accepted. It's a cheap trade-off. It's very important to do everything in your power to maintain your pride.

Now if you are a person that does not mind stroking another person's ego, by all means continue. But it is not for everybody. I had to share this with my daughter last night, and it was very interesting conversation. She's a bright young woman, very wise for her age.

Listen, every human being matters. In my opinion, there is not one person above the other, but I am a writer -what do I know? Because I am easily inspired, everyone is a god or goddess. But, there are some others who get drunk on others people's compliments, phone-calls, emails and messages. Especially if they think that you are less than them. If somehow (in their mind) they are higher on the totem pole than you. Be careful of those individuals.

Life is a two way street. Relationships are a two way street. If you find yourself on a one way street, make a U-Turn.

Good Luck!

A Man's Fight is Not With His Woman

A man's fight is not with his woman. It is with the world that tries to hinder, hurt or harm his family. Outside of a man's home are his enemies. Inside of his home are his friends, children, lover, and partner. His safe haven. It is where he goes for truth, to meditate, to find comfort and peace. He goes home to his family. And that reason alone is why he does whatever he must do in order to protect his family. It's the reason he wakes up in the morning and goes to work. It's the reason he moves them into neighborhoods where his family can prosper and thrive. If he "shorts" his family in any way, he "shorts" himself. A real man knows this.

I tell my oldest daughter all of the time that a man’s touch should never be any stronger, harder or stronger than a massage. I take my hand and stroke her across her cheek and tell her that her lover should only stroke her skin, caress her body, fondle her, and rub her down. They can wrestle and play fight but his intent should never be to purposely cause her pain. If he ever hits her she must leave. It’s a violation to her spirit, and she will feel it.

There are a lot of black women settling for less and that’s because her confidence has been damaged, some have been destroyed beyond repair. However, there are plenty of others who know that something isn’t right and just can not put her hand on it. I am speaking to those beautiful women. The black females who feel like it is her duty to stand by her man but is tired of not having her needs fulfilled. If you are confident in your relationship this message is not for you. But if you sense that something is not right within your relationship than it is for you. You have no obligation to a person that is not going to respect you, protect you from harm, provide for you, and make you smile. No OBLIGATIONS whatsoever!

I realize this may go completely against what you were told, and that’s good. Because you’ve been sensing something anyway. Your lover’s fight is not with you, but with the world outside of his home.

Open Season On Black Woman

Have you ever been in a fight with your lover or male partner just to watch other black men walk past as if it was not happening? Have a man ever blacked your eyes in front of his friends while they all laughed about it. Or worse, have you ever decided to just confide in another woman about the various types of abuse taking place inside of your home to be told to "just deal with it." I have. It's because it is open season on black woman. There are no support groups in place, there are no black men in her community in place to protect her from predators. Every woman needs to feel safe, and out of harms way. The men in her community are suppose to be the first line of physical defense and the woman in her community are suppose to be the first line of emotional support. And now young girls feel unsafe walking down the streets at night, knowing that if she is raped and yells for help, her screams will go ignored. Life will go on at the same time a woman is raped on the streets. A man will eat a sandwich on his front steps as he watches a young man beat on a woman.

It's open season on black woman. She has no protection or support in place by the other people in her community. If you are in a position like this, you must leave and get help. In most cases, it's simply not safe to be a black woman in a all black neighborhood. I know this is not always the case, but right now I am talking about the majority of down-trodden, beat-up communities. If you are living in an area where a black woman is valued and respected by the other African Americans in the neighborhood, you are the exception.

It's amazing the number of times I have heard a woman cry for help just to have no one ever come. My daughter's father would hit me in his mother's house, and his brother and mother would be downstairs watching television. I hated them for it. Where is the protection for black woman? She attends church service all through out the week, and is constantly tithing, and paying her dues. Where is the emotional support and protection from the black church? Where is the love and dedication she shows to the people that she loves? Is it being reciprocated?

Little girls are being molested, sexually harassed and raped at alarming rates. No one is speaking up for them. Why? Does the tears that fall down the cheeks of a little black little girl look any different than those that fall down the face of a Caucasian, or Asian little girl. I think not! I'll tell you why though. The first people who feel the effects of happiness or sadness are those closest to you. In this case, it would be the immediate family, extended family, and then those members of the community. Now, I have my beliefs about why the black community have been destroyed but that's not important now. What is important is that young black girls realize it is open season on them. And they are being preyed upon. There seems to be very little being done as far as implementing the necessary steps needed to stop the violence being perpetrated against young black woman too. And I am disgusted this is the case. But, it's not going to get easier. If you are reading this and are trying to break the cycle of abuse, and realize that for every two steps you take towards a thriving future, you take five steps back into a life of pain, I need you to learn to be ruthless as Ms. Khadija said. Cut Throat! Put yourself up high on a pedestal. It is open season on black woman, and it there is NO end in sight.

Not everyone overcomes abuse

The thing about abuse is that NOT everyone is going to overcome it's effects. As much as I wish this was not the case, it's true. When a child grows up in homes where there is any kind of sexual abuse, physical abuse, verbal abuse and psychological abuse there are bound to be some people who will do nothing but perpetuate these types of abuses. This could be compared to when a farmers crop managed to get off to a good start despite some poor condition and then the farmer says something like "and they probably would have fully recovered if...." Same thing with children who are brought up in abusive homes. They probably would have grown up to be very well-rounded individuals if...

Just like that crop, only the strongest individuals will be able to navigate their lives afterward. And however they choose to do stop the cycle of abuse is normally alright with me. Because the thing about abuse is that no one else can tell a woman who has been raped by a man to just "get over it." Not even a rape survivor. How does a woman just "get over" having a man force himself upon her without her consent? How can we expect a child whose been told, "they'll never amount to anything," his entire life to ever believe otherwise once he becomes 21 yrs. old? It's really tough.

Sometimes I also believe in all of our differences we forget just how alike we are. We forget how words when injected into the soul of another human being can resurface in our dreams years later. I know I haven't been psychically or verbally abused in over fifteen years but I can still repeat some of the things I once heard as a child verbatim.

I am not asking us to condone it. But to spend more time understanding people who are not strong enough to break cycles of abuse.

Rags To Riches

Even as a child I knew I was special. I was literally able to endure pain, misery and suffering at the hands of people whose obligations were to protect me without ever breaking down or given up. I didn't just collapse as a child, and I would never give someone else the pleasure of seeing my perpetuate the cycle of abuse on to my children. And I am still able to forgive those who failed to protect me, like my mother and father. In their addictions both if them were weak, and at the same time unable of providing a safe haven for me. Since my mother opted out I stepped up. Now forgiveness hasn't been the easiest. My mother was down stairs when I was molested by Jeffrey. When I told what David forced me to do as a child, she didn't believe me. Yet and still I forgive everyone including the men. I wrote my cousin David a letter about three years ago (I never mailed it) forgiving him of what he had done. Because to be honest, it never stopped me. And it is my personal opinion that when someone hurts a child they are trying to break their spirit. PERIOD!

I am a special individual. Bright with a great deal of potential most of which I owe to books, Mrs. Stewart, Mrs. Holmes, Ray, Victor, Harvey Synder, Donald Sobeck and a list of others who during our short time together made sure they did whatever was in their power to make me "smile." To show me that someone was looking out for me. In fact, I was accepted into Masterman as a child, and Friends Select but due to behavioral issues was not able to cut the cake. I said that because my teachers in elementary school saw something in me and acted on it. I can remember when I went to accept my award from the superintendent of Pennsylvania schools my third grade teacher went out and brought me a white new dress, white shoes, a bow for my hair and a slip. She made me wash in the bathroom sink, helped me put on my dress and sent me off to receive my award looking like a beautiful little girl.

I have a small short list of great support now. It should have always been this way. I am ENTITLED to the very best. I give my children the very best and everyone else I meet.

Reminds me of a quote by Booker T. Washington "Success is to be measured not so much by the position that one has reached in life as by the obstacles which he has overcome."

Not Everyone Overcome Abuse-2

The reason i ask that we make it a valid point to understand those victims of abuse is because as a society we damn sure do not do enough to help them. In fact, most of us usually try to gravitate towards people with only shiny backgrounds. I contribute this to our fascination with perfection and beauty. Or we gravitate towards those we have MOST in common with and that is great however that should NOT keep you from understanding others who you have very little in common with, right? I always make an attempt to see something as best as I can through another persons eyes. I can still believe what I want and still understand what you see. I do it all the time. I also have confidence and faith in myself to know if there is a better way to look at the particular situation I will eventually do that. In time. And there have been a few times when I was enlightened by the other person's ideas and thoughts concerning a matter.

For ex. I am a registered member on MotheringDotCommune. And I knew that there were other mothers who had miscarriages, still-borns, babies who died immediately after being born and those parents of children with special needs. But after being an active member for about a month, and seeing the different threads started, I have noticed more children with special needs than I ever remember seeing before. So, this Sunday I was at the park and there was a boy about seven years old and I could see he had special needs. He was a beautiful young boy, and his parents were normal. However, while swinging on a swing it suddenly dawned on me, I have been looking Right BY those families before. I never saw them nor did I want to. And why should I. We have nothing in common. All of my children were born "normal" right? WRONG!

I should know children with special needs exists and their struggles. We all should, many of us went to school with them. But I have no idea how difficult it is to raise a child with special needs and obviously most people do not want to. That is why there are groups and meetings especially for these parents. So they can bond and form friendships with other parents of children with special needs. So, the cycle continues because they also go right by a mother with a normal child to befriend someone she has more in common with. We don't have to be friends but we should know about their struggles and difficulties. We should know about their fights. Plain and simple, we should know a lot more about other people than we do. We should care about the journey of another person. We should respect it as the path of a fellow traveler and move on. And we should always see ourselves in the eyes of another.

Because after the support groups and meetings are all over, they come in contact with people like me and you. A support group is not the only place we should be able to get our backing from. People should not have to leave a room where everyone inside are the only people able to relate to their experience and walk into a world of billions and feel like a stranger.

Don'e Be Scared to See A Shrink

Don't be scared to say, "I want to break the cycle. I don't want to be responsible for robbing my children of their youth. I don't want to die without fulfilling a dream. Or not knowing what it's like to live in peace, to pursue goals, to paint a picture my way." People say there are only 365 day in a year, 24 hours in a day, 7 days a week. To the average man that is not enough time, but to a person whose known almost nothing but abuse and neglect, it's more than enough time. You know why? Because you have the benefit of knowing absolutely nothing about "not enough time in a day." For us there was always too much time, and not enough other stuff. So, work with this time. It's yours. You don't have much else. And since the time must be spent doing something, engage in battle with yourself. I am talking about THERAPY.

I was taken away from my mom when I was very young, and the years before I was taken away and the years immediately after being removed from my parents home were the most difficult. One reason is because I wanted to be taken away from my mother. I did not want to stay with her any longer. It was too much fighting, not enough food, and just about no love. And, IMMEDIATELY upon being placed in respite foster care, therapy was suggested. My social worker had all kinds of people lined up for me to talk to when I was a child, and I did. I would recommend seeing a psychiatrist if you have want to break that cycle. It's important to establish a support system with someone who has your best interest at heart when you first begin to go after what you are ENTITLED to in life. That is why I suggest therapy.

Breaking cycles of extreme abuse requires devotion, strength and dedication. It's as simple as, if you don't know that there is anything wrong with the way you think, you are doomed to fail. If you think it is normal for someone you are intimate with to put their hands on you, you are wrong. Even if that is all you have ever witnessed (men and women fighting) it is still wrong. A real man does NOT put his hands on a woman. Now the kicker is, a real woman does NOT allow a man to put his hands on her other than the usual caressing, touching and fondling.

And if this is the only kind of interaction you've ever lay witness too - then it is all you're ever going to know- unless you choose to do something about it. And for most of us that includes seeing a professional so we can figure out ---why we do certain things. And then making the necessary arrangements to get ourselves out of the environment which promotes this kind of behavior. This begins what I would consider the cleansing and flushing process. Which you should only do with the support and on the shoulder of a psychiatrist or therapist (unless you have another support team) until you learn enough coping mechanisms to handle things by yourself.

Shit is real guys. We victims of abuse keep a lot of these types of abuse going into the future. We engage in all kinds of unhealthy relationships, treat our children or those closest to us the only way we know how to treat others, and all that is okay. But I am telling you, that time can be over. Go see a therapist. Open the yellow pages of your nearest phone book and make the call. If you don't have the money and are on welfare your social worker can help you. She can either put you in touch with someone or give you some phone numbers.

I once heard someone say this, "if you sustained extended trauma, persecution and violence, wouldn't you need a period of recovery? notice that when white kids shoot up the schools, the first item on the agenda is counseling."

Unfortunately, in the black community going to a counselor is unheard of. Think about it, how many of us have ever heard of a relative going to see a "shrink." And until they learn something different they will probably never go to see one.

Remember, counseling is not an over night cure. By no means. I still carry the effects of my childhood. I was taken away from my parents because things had gotten real bad with my parents. Their drug habits trumped everything. But, I am still one of the fortunate ones. I know that not everyone can claim victory, and I've been told the numbers are growing smaller. My heart mourns for thee. Life in prison. Dreams deferred.

There is no more help for the town's idiot, the neglected child. You have to care about yourself enough to seek help. Yes, help. I said it and everybody needs it. Now let me say this, if you've noticed, I have said very little about what begins to happen after you start talking about things that happened to you as a child. It will break the strongest of us down but (hopefully) provide us at the same time with enough tools to build ourselves up. You'll discover a lot about yourself by going to see a counselor. I can't tell you things will be easy, but anything is better than the alternative. The nightmares never completely go away, but they do become easier to deal with.

You are ENTITLED to JOY

When I left my oldest daughter's father, I knew that I would never allow another man to physically or psychologically abuse me again. The last time he hit me I was eight months pregnant with our child. When he knocked me to the ground, he put his foot on my neck and said, "You better not get back up." I admit it, I didn't break up with him that day (I wasn't ready) but I did see a ship burning. It took me the better of two months to break it off completely, but when I did it was over for good. Now the important thing to remember is that I didn't include to that list verbal abuse. Because at that time anything was better than being gripped up, popped up side the head and having my emotions, cares and concerns flung to the side like I was not important. So, I probably would have dated someone who was verbally abusive because one was better than all the others.

However, now I see that ALL types of abuse are wrong. In my opinion, there is not one any better than the other.

Then I met the man who is now my husband and he didn't do any of those things to me. He's never hit me he's never cursed at me, insulted me, or tried to damage my psyche in any way ---and I came to our relationship with baggage for days ---and a child.

But the thing to remember is that he knew this. He saw me a mile away (he's really quiet and observant) but he saw something in me. If you ask him he'll make a list. But all lists aside, we met on a spiritual level. I can explain it no other way. There will be no divorce for us but there will be death.


From being in a long term relationship with a man who knows how to cater to women. Knows how to talk to a woman, take care of his home and children, doesn't believe in "talking" with his hands and believes it is his responsibility to provide a safe place for his family to live, where each one will grow and thrive constantly, I know there is no other way to live.

Women for years have been too often rejected and made to feel like a subject to her man. She caters to him, and his children. Makes his house into a home. Iron out all of his wrinkles just to be told by him that she has become a thorn --in his ass. This is not the way a woman should be treated by anyone --including a black woman.

The story on my back is the story of a woman that I know very little of, but seem to understand more about the older I become. The power, truth and dynamic nature of woman. I won't go into details but I believe women are entitled to much more than they are truly able to understand. It is a privilege to walk around as a member of the greatest sex. Givers of life and love. But, this hasn't been reciprocated back to us from our lovers. And that's not fair.

Last week, I came across this list that I wish to share with you all especially black women. The reason I specifically said black woman is because I know many African American Women who have settled for less. Settling for less is the old way of doing things. No one has to settle for less than she is worth anymore. There is nothing more wrong with demanding more for yourself. A greater friend, a greater lover, a greater job, a greater peace. And be sure to define (in your mind) everything you want. And go for it, black woman. No one wants a man that is unwilling to provide for and protect his family. NO ONE! Get on board. If you have a boyfriend who you know in your heart is not taking care of your needs, get rid of him. He's dead weight and the only reason you are dealing with him is because you are also dead inside. Together the two of you are probably going to fail, and if you have any children by this man, their probably going to end up as statistics.

Now, I'm not going to ask you to leave immediately. In reality, unless our lives are in immediate danger, women will rarely just get up and leave. It takes time. I know. Somehow it all has to click in our minds. The shit clicks in some women faster than others. That's okay. We surpass those women in other areas. It is the way of the human being. You'll know when that time comes. In the meantime, I'd like to leave you all with this list of ENTITLEMENTS for every person but specifically for the African American female. This list was compiled by a woman name Khadija in the blog community I frequent.


Here is her blog: http://muslimbushido.blogspot.com/

She is a powerful woman, dedicated to strengthening the spirit of black woman by any and all means and her list is just the beginning. Be sure to check her out, please. I've been fortunate to come to a better understanding of myself through some of the knowledge she's passing on. I've also felt a "call to action" type current running through me. And it's different than I've ever felt. She forces a shifting of priorities in an urgent way. I also know that a overcast has been lifted.


I am ENTITLED to an abundant life.



I am ENTITLED to do what works best for me.

It's good to be able to admit that you need help. It's BETTER to cultivate reciprocal relationships with people who will check in to see if you're okay, & offer help [without you having to ask].

I am ENTITLED to surround myself with people who actively have my back. I am ENTITLED to pull away from people who don't have my back.

My friends & I are entitled to vent to each other about problems. We are NOT entitled to endlessly vent about a problem without being willing to solve it. Dumping toxic emotions on a friend while being unwilling to work on one's problem in abusive.


Listen, if you don't believe in yourself, no one else will. It's as simple as that.

Why I can't just pull an Antwon Fisher

>You have to cut all ties when you decide to break the cycle. A person who has overcome a childhood of extreme neglect will attest to this. The few who have been fortunate enough to "get over" what they went through as children have NEVER looked back. I can't say all of them but the majority prefer to have no dealings with anyone from their childhood. But I am going to have to be honest with everyone; although I cut the strings with any extended family, I can't say the same for my siblings. This is one of my areas of weakness, and I'll tell you why.

I was like a mother to my siblings. I do have an older brother, but I was stronger than him. Mentally. He was not able to deal with what was taking place in our home and he eventually left us. But, I stayed. And because I remained with them and I was able to save the life of my youngest sister who almost died when she was about 9 months. It was the dead of winter and we didn't have any heat. I picked her up and noticed she had begun to turn a pinkish, bluish color. I took her over to my next door neighbor's house, and she made us some soup and gave me a blanket to bundle my sister up in. I took the food home and nursed my sister back to health. The next morning Tamara (my neighbor) brought me over some more soup, and a bottle of milk. My sister's health eventually got better. It's funny because all of these years, I have no idea what my sister was dying of. Tamara told me she thought my sister was freezing to death. I still don't know.

I have many stories like this but the purpose of telling the story was to explain how I became a mother to my siblings and why I have a difficult time cutting the umbilical cord.

But, I have to cut this cord guys. It's the only way. It's hard for me to do because I went from protecting and taking care of them like a mother to being a scapegoat. I spent my youth making sure they were not abused in any way. And somehow by doing these motherly things I began to think of them as my children and I haven't been able to change that. there was a time when they called me mom, and I referred to them as my children. And even when we were finally taken away from my parents I tried to attend every visit. Caught buses, hitch-hiked rides, etc. Most of which my mother NEVER showed up at.

And this is why I have such a difficult time completely letting go of my ties with my siblings, although a few of them behave towards me like they should behave to my mother. I carry the guilt of the way they grew up like I gave birth to each of them. That is why I can not just pull an "Antwon Fisher."

I know what I have to do to free myself, but it's hard for me to pull away. I made a vow to never leave them or walk away from them, but as we got older this was not reciprocated. Even with me having a family of my own, I worry about them like they are my own. But, their not! They are my mother's children. They are their father's children. However, the problem is that I can recall too vividly sitting in 5630 Warrington Ave. making promises to each of them to see them through to the end.

Did I see my brothers and sisters through? Yes, I did. I called D.H.S. and we were taken away from my parents. Why can't I process the rest? Who knows but it's about time.

Good Luck on your Journey!

Reach for the Stars and EXPECT to hit one

I've been reaching for the stars since I was born. I can remember telling my grandfather, I was not always going to live such a hectic and hate filled life. I was about ten years old at the time. At this time, all I knew was abuse, neglect, and negative energy. I was born into a community where people were unable to fulfill my needs. Any of them. But that never stopped me from reaching for the stars and knowing I would hit one. I told me husband if I was to ever write my autobiography it would start off like this, "I always knew I was a part of something greater." Because although my parents were both addicted to drugs and partying, I never felt like I was truly apart of what was going on.

For the longest time, I felt like the stork dropped me off at the wrong house. I'm serious. Like he took the wrong turn or something like that. Because nothing made sense to me when I was growing up. Nothing. The fighting, the constant arguing, the drug use, the houses were lived in, the company my parents kept. Somehow, I knew it was ALL wrong.

Years later when I would ask my uncle Jimmy to tell me about myself as a child, he just said, "You always did what you wanted to do. There wasn't anything your mother or father could have done to change that. You just did what the fuck you wanted to do. You had no fear."

What everyone failed to notice is that I was already reaching for the stars, and believed I would hit one. And I can not tell you when I first started reading or writing, but I did. In fact, the local library became my sanctuary. And in between reading, writing and going to the library, I started lying. Creating these elaborate colorful stories about my mother and father. Two of the greatest stories I had ever made up had to do with my mother though. The first was about her being a model over in London. The second was that she died in a fire. (There is a thin line between love and hate, and I walk it, in regards to how I feel about my parents -especially my mother). I don't pretend not to. Especially now that I am grown with my own children. Because I am a writer. I think a lot. And I have to keep my children informed of what is going on in my mind especially my daughters.

And the thing about breaking free and reaching for the stars is that you never stop. After I was taken away from my parents, I was placed into some horrible shelters, group homes, boarding schools, and mental facilities. Places that should be shut down or flushed out and replaced with a better system. It's sad when a child leaves a parent who is abusive and goes into a SYSTEM of abuse. Because what happens is that once a child is removed from their parents and placed into a home, or shelter they immediately are labeled with something. Anything they do is used against them. And that is NOT fair. When you take a child away from one environment and place them into a totally different environment there should be a system in place that helps the child. But that is really not the case.


And I noticed that. So what I started to do was call and harass my social workers when the living conditions resembled that of my own home. If I was placed into a shelter where I was being verbally abused by the counselors, I would run away. I showed up at the doors of 1515 Arch Street (Department of Human Services) so much the guards started to know my name. If my foster mother treated her biological better than she treated me, I would run away. Any ill treatment, cruelty, criticism, or harsh language would cause me to run-away. I just would not tolerate it. I didn't know what I was looking for -exactly but I knew I would recognize it. The first person to listen to me was Mr. Peter Zimmerman. He sat down and asked me if he found me "suitable" places would I be willing to deal with some of the young ignorant counselors. I told him I would, and he placed me in a group home in Horsham, Pa. And although I had to deal with some bull-shit, it was in the realm of what I was looking for, so I dealt with it.


But the point is I never stopped reaching for the stars. I believed things would get "better." And they did, eventually. I have a lot of people I have to thank when it all boils down though. Like the family court judge who listened to me when I was 15 years old and my mother was in the process of getting her children back. He asked ME if I wanted to be reunited with my mother at that time (because the goal for us was always to be returned back to my mother) and I told him no. I remember everybody in the room turning around looking at me, because it's rare that a child doesn't want to be reunited back with their parents. It happens, but it's rare. However, he respected me, and took my name off the list. I was the only sibling who never went back to live with my mother.

With a past like mines, you go through a lot of different emotions. Even now that I am older, and haven't been a part of something dysfunctional in years, I still have to keep reaching for what I saw as a child. For the most part though, I have to admit I have struck gold. Emotionally, I am wealthy. Mentally, I am rich. My children know nothing of the way I grew up except my oldest daughter who can barely remember. See, I was 16 years old when I gave birth to her. She's 12 years old now, plays the cello, is on her school's cross-country track team, receives all A's. While all of that is commendable, the most important thing for me is I BROKE THE CYCLE OF ABUSE.

Keep reaching for the stars, you'll hit one. Shit, you may hit them all.

There Are No Bad Children

It took me the better part of twenty years to discover that there are no bad children. Ever since I can remember people have called me "bad." But that was not the case, and I'll tell you what they failed to understand about children.


Those of us who are dedicated parents begin showing affection and a kind of tenderness to our fetus/child the moment we find out that we are with pregnant. The parent's of a child who has been abused and neglected does not receive the same treatment. Most of them are not even wanted by the biological parents at the time of conception. Those of us who shows this affection and tenderness to our unborn children begin to get serious and even excited about bringing another person into the world. We start a process of decompressing and relaxation. Nothing else mattered to us before this moment. Life was to be taken for granted. But, no Longer. Well for the parents of that neglected child, this pregnancy is unwanted. And the parents most likely will regret this child. The mother will carry these feelings on to her child. And so will the father. On the other hand, we have the parents of that fetus who are excited, already making FUTURE plans for the baby. They start educating themselves on children and families and methods of discipline and philosophies of parenting and breastfeeding and vaccinations, etc. The parents of that unwanted child does NONE of that. They may keep up with the ob/gyn appointments. They may take the prenatal vitamins. All of this is really up in the air. A baby will be born to both of these couples. They will deliver these babies, take them homes, and then begin the process of raising a child.

Now let's take a peek at what happens when the child is taken home into the environment where he will be brought up and raised in, not only his parents and extended family but those in the surrounding community as well.

Baby A will be the child whose parents regret his presence. They are dealing with the birth but are not happy about it. There is no excitement, no tender warm feelings towards this new person. They argue and fight about the baby. They curse and yell at each other. Neither person has a steady decent income. Neither has a great deal of help or support from others. Whatever they do receive is scraps. There are no dreams, hopes or future plans. Just living.

Baby B will be the child whose parents did the research, they did feel warm, they were excited about being challenged, and felt honored to be able to bring another child into this world. They play games togethr, and sat up late nights planning their future together. Dreams and laughs were shared, and fears were acknowledged and dealt with together. A new stronger pact was forged between the two parents.


Now, this alone is just enough to start a baby who has no sense of understanding whatsoever off on the wrong foot, or the right foot.

Baby A goes home and when he cries, he is ignored most of the time. When he is picked up he is yanked by the arm. People yell at Baby A, people pinch him, they provoke him. He isn't dealt with gently. He is left alone for long periods of time, unsupervised, attacked. He is thrown around, he is pushed around, and he is yelled at. He sees fights and hears arguing. He hears gun, he hears screams, he hears loud music, he normally cries himself to sleep. He is rarely given a fresh clean diaper, he receives numerous diaper rashes, he survives on a diet of potato chips and candy, he isn't read to, he isn't played with, he isn't talked to or communicated with. He isn't constantly held and stroked and caressed and rubbed and embraced and cuddled and hugged, held close and appreciated. His cries and pleads go largely ignored. He has no value. He has no worth, he has no significance, and he has no usefulness. This is also consistent with how he is viewed by his extended family members and other people in his community. He shouldn't be here but he will be tolerated. He was not lucky, he was not fortunate.

Baby B goes home in the arms of those two loving parents. He is visited by close friends and family who have awaited his arrival, and are excited to finally meet him. They bring him presents and he is passed around from one loving adult to the next. His arrival causes others to think about getting married and creating a family. He is picked up when he cries. People talk to him, people play with him, and they are gentle with him. He isn't left alone, someone is always close by. He is exposed to jazz, classical, electronica, new age and hip hop. He hears discussions and debates. He is read books, he is sung to, he is taken on long walks, and he is taken on short rides. His diaper is changed upon being soiled; his body is wiped down upon getting dirty. His has a balanced diet. People stroke him, people caress him, people embrace him, people hug him, and people show themselves worthy. He is valued, he is respected, he is catered to, he is loved, he is understood, he is useful, he is supported, he is provided for, and he is significant. People are glad he's here.

Now this treatment of Baby A and Baby B goes on until they are ten years old. Nothing changes except they grow older. Their bodies change. Their minds are developing.

Baby A is unleashed on the world. He learns to fend for himself, he doesn't trust anyone. He isn't happy and confident. He isn't made to feel special. He isn't liked by the community. He begins to fight, and be aggressive. He learns to hate.

Baby B is prepared for the world. He is taken care of. He grows up trusting others, and believing in others. He's happy and confident. He feels special and valuable. Like his life is worth something. His community appreciates him. He learns to fight with his mind, and be assertive. He learns to love.

All of this is just preparation for the two boys. They have no idea about our society, they are not aware of any pre-existing problems. But both of these little boys are being groomed for the future, one just better than the other. Preparation beforehand is key, and then the first six years in a child's life are probably the most important. I think by the time a child is ten years old, his path is pretty much set with the exception of life's curves. But what he has been fed for those first ten years will forever remain with that child. IT IS ALL HE KNOWS.

One of these babies' is going to succeed just on the parent's preparation and upbringing alone. There have probably been a thousand different scientific studies done that would explain why one baby is more likely to succeed in life than the others. But even without the test, our understanding of nature, climates, and environment tells us that one of these conditions WAS emotionally, verbally, and psychologically better than the other.

This is just a brief overview of what happens to the abused and neglected child, and why he isn't "bad." He is a lot of things but bad isn't one of them. He IS damaged and bruised. He IS likely to fail. He IS likely to bring his children up in the same exact same (or even worse) conditions than he himself was raised in.

Now for the sake of argument, I haven't added many other elements (like drugs and alcohol) to this story because I didn't want to take away from the importance of understanding how certain upbringings automatically disqualifies a person from attaining a joyful peaceful deeply-rooted loving successful life.

I am not talking about the cycle of abuse. I am just sharing with you why I don't see a child as bad, and I realize that the majority of children from crime-filled environments, single parent homes where there was a great of neglect and different types of abuse going on is most likely to always fail.

Side Note* that is why I understand when a rapper or a drug dealer says something like, "it's all I know." Because IT IS ALL HE KNOWS and often times when love and care enters the picture, it is far too late for that person.

Understand This

I've noticed that since my mother have overcome her addictions that friends and family have this strange idea that I should get over it. Forgive my mother, and move on (especially since she does not like "dwelling" on the past.). Well, here is the problem -it's not just her past. Her decisions have directly affected the lives of all six of her offspring's. My siblings. And how the other five choose to deal with what happened to us as children is up to them.

I deal with things differently. I cry, scream, write, paint, process and talk. And I do it often in the confines of my own home, at least every three or four months now. There was a time when I was dealing with my issues of abuse and neglect at least twice a week, if not more. So, I don't just forgive and move on. That's not what I do. Period! And if my mother and I are to ever REALLY have some kind of relationship, she HAS to understand that about me.

There are a lot of people in my family who feel like I need to just get over shit. Just move on, Tasha. Your mother has gone through enough already. Guess what, FUCK YOU! I mean that in the most serious way possible. And the real fucked up thing is it has always been like this. When I was young people use to say "just forgive your mother." She was always protected by somebody. While I was robbed of my childhood, damn near starved and frozen to death, and forced to endure all kinds of sick behaviors from other people who as children were probably forced to also endure all kinds of sick shit. As a child, and then as a teenager, I was expected to just blow it off. That was an unrealistic expectation and it was also unfair. And if that is what people who are close to her expect me to do, it will never happen. I can't do it, and I should not be expected to try. Not when I am the one who was abused. I say what works for me, not her. I say what I deserve, not my mother or her friends. She had that chance and blew it. She was the first human I came in contact with. She could have broken the cycle, but she didn't. She stopped her drug habit. She was strong enough to do that. And if I am not able to truly build a relationship with my mother because of my need to talk about the past, so be it. I'll lay my head down on a pillow, and cry about that when the time comes. Or I'll keep writing until I push past it. But, I won't shut up because of what it's doing to her. Who the fuck is she? Is she more important than the babies she gave birth to? And then whose cribs she walked past whenever we were crying? Is she more important than her children whom she failed to protect when predators would prey upon us in our innocent youth? Oh, because she's no longer addicted to drugs and apologized we must all just move on? To be honest, I'm just throwing scenarios out there, I don't give a fuck about what her followers think or believe. I can not deal with my past like that.

For example, my father was also a dead beat in all of the same ways my mother was, BUT he acknowledges my angers. He has validated my pain. And we talk about his failure as a parent whenever I bring it up. Because when it is on my mind, it's never to belittle him or my mother. I just need them to know what I am feeling –at that time-about OUR past. And my father listens. I'm sure there are times when he doesn't want to think about his short comings but he understands this is what I must go through. That is why we are able to talk. And he has accepted that. If my mother doesn't than we will never move past where we are currently. She has my understanding and sympathy for what she was forced to endure as a child. I know what her mother did to her. I know about my grandfather. But beyond understanding, being sympathetic, and being sad for her, I feel very little. And if she is NOT able to understand where I am coming from, then that's where the sidewalk ends for the both of us. We can go no further. I'm also willing to accept whatever comes with it.

It took me many years to not only know what I was ENTITLED to as a person, but to also understand why I was ENTITLED to certain thing as a human.

Misfortunes & Suicides

I've had the misfortune of watching some of the world's most brightest, passionate youth wither away and die before the age of fifteen. I've seen young boys cry, and young ladies curse the day they were born. I once went to the funeral of a friend who took her own life by committing suicide. Her name was Sophia. I cried for her as her body lay in the casket and questions floated all throughout the air about the reason a twelve year old girl would hang herself in order to escape a life of pain.

As I think back to that day I see that many of us (especially the adults in attendance) were all too aware of what makes a person cross that line from dealing with a life of pain to ending that life. There are more of us that understand the effects of living a less than suitable life. That's why we grieve for the children and families in third world countries. At least, some of us do. Somehow their pain and misery becomes mines from the moment I know their story. It always happens this way for me, that is why I think there are many people understood why Sophia decided to end her life. I did. I wasn't angry or upset that she would make such a decision.

She hung herself with a sheet from the ceiling in her bedroom. My guess is that she kicked the chair away and embraced her death differently than most folks do. She had no desire to live any longer. She was not running around tying up any loose ends, pleading for forgiveness. Maybe she had already done all of these things before that day, who knows?

I got the call about her suicide about 8:00 p.m. one evening and was really surprised. She had no suicidal tendencies. And we had not seen one other in about a year. The last time we hung out was when her mother's house had been robbed, and during a scuffle with one of the perpetrators her mother had gotten shot several times. Once in the eye. Sophia called me one day when I was living with my father and asked me to meet her downtown so we could go visit her mother in the hospital. And I did. We met up a few blocks from the hospital. While we were visiting her mother took off her bandage to show us the eye she had been shot in. She had no eye ball. I remember thinking if I looked far enough into her socket, I would be able to see into her body. It didn't happen. We visited her mother for about a hour and then left. That was the last time I saw Sophia. We lost touch after that. Two young ladies trying to survive in a world which treated us like we were not valuable. Somehow when you are born into certain kind of home or community you are despised by people who have never met you. They know nothing about you and already they hate you. I'm sorry we were not brought up in homes with harmony, communication and peace. I apologize that we most of us will not be able to contribute to our society. It's not what we wanted.

I'm sure Sophia knows all of this. I'm certain she tried to come up with different reasons not to take her life. Children grow up wanting to be a lot of things. They grow up free and believing, and then life sets in and it hardens the best of us. I don't know of too many people who grow up wanted to commit suicide. I know because I've watched some of the toughest guys in my group home lost their marbles when one of their parents failed to show up for a visit. Have you ever seen a sixteen year old boy cry? Have you ever seen him hold back tears until it was no longer possible and then wail out loud to the skies. I have. I watched pain touch the lives of many children. Many of whom have never been able to navigate their own lives so that it could turn out the way they desired. They got lost, or they lost hope. Either way they were never able to find a way out. I dedicate this blog to those. I dedicate this blog to Sophia, who was a beautiful dark-skinned young lady, with a incredible smile. She was very easy going and dated Donte' most of the time she was at Carson Valley. I am fortunate to have been her friend, and know her when very few people wanted to. I am fortunate to know that she had not chosen her own childhood, she didn't vote for those parents. I am fortunate to have known of her history, therefore she is not just a statistic to me. She was a person, she was a friend, and she liked to laugh, which is one of the reasons she dated Donte'. He was hilarious. Sophia was even loved during the time I knew her because I loved her. I loved her therefore she existed. She died therefore she lived. She took her own life therefore she was in pain.

I wonder if she ever knew the meaning of her name was Wisdom.