A Dildo Can’t Do Some Things; Maybe That’s Why He Made Men.

black-woman-attitude (1)

I read across somewhere: “Vibrators can’t lift heavy stuff and so, God decided to make men.” Something like that. When you give it critical thought, most of us, women, don’t need men.

It’s so comical when men think we actually need them. I think men are just misinformed on that particular issue. Very misinformed.

A typical man thinks he’s heaven’s gift to women. That is ludicrous and laughable. And when you “talk too much”, they say, “when you are single in your 40s…”

Continue reading

Advertisements

April 1, 2017

Isi ji! How we hated that part of a yam tuber. But, whenever mommy cooked, that redundant part invariably found its way to the pot. Whenever I was to select yam pieces into my plate, I picked the “good” part. In slight indignation, Mommy would look at my plate and ask why I didn’t take some isi ji. You’re meant to distribute it; only one person can’t eat the head. How could you just take the fine part and leave the rest for us? Whenever she rambled on like that, I wanted to ask her, “Why cook something no one wants to eat?”

As I grew older, mommy insisted I add isi ji to the pot whenever I was to cook yam. You shouldn’t waste it, she’d say. I tried to reason with her that it didn’t make sense if we hated isi ji yet added it to the pot.

Related image

Continue reading

Finding Your Crowd

a-gathering-of-friends-1642

You see, you have to be in the right crowd to become fully expressive.

Find someone/people that have the same amount of crazy as you have.

How do you talk about profound stuff with someone that’s interested in mundane matters? It would be a chore. You can’t cast your pearl to swine, you know.

I love graceful music. I feel music is the painting you hear.

I loathe noisy sounds masking as music. I won’t be friends with someone that loves noisy stuff. They’d tell me, “you should listen to bubbly music.” Someone once told me that. Continue reading

Accepting Me…

64-what-is-self-love-all-about

I tell you who I am.
You don’t tell me who I am.

At the threshold of 25, I have lived long enough to know who I am.
I have experienced enough to tell anyone my own truth.
If I say I am stone, I am stone.
If I say I am fire, I am fire.

I have outgrown lying about myself for acceptance.
Not everyone should accept me; that would be asinine. Continue reading