“Why are You Single”? The Answer to this Question and as Well as Other Dumb ass Theories as to Why I’m Single That Comes in my Inbox as Well as to My Face

as Every other day some misogynistic ingrate or some dude who’s in a relationship takes it upon themselves to either ask me why I am single or try to put in theories as to why I am single. “You are too hard on these guys” “Every man isn’t perfect” “Perfect relationships don’t exist” or my all time favorite “You are too strong for these guys, you need to soften up a bit” or they say shit like “Maybe if you weren’t too outspoken”. First of all if a woman being too outspoken scares men away, they aren’t men to begin with. They only reason why they are scared off because the chances of them getting pussy has gone down to 0%. The only reason why men pop up in women’s inbox on social media is to get pussy 90% of the fucking time. Dudes come in my inbox and the first thing they mention is my fucking lips. That shit irritates me to no fucking end. Like a man who has never commented on a status, liked a status, retweeted shit, will just pop up in my inbox and say “Damn your lips sexy” or “I wonder how those lips feel” and he has the audacity to act like he’s done wrong when I verbally emasculate his ass. I’m too strong and too outspoken because a ashy ass nigga popped up in my inbox, don’t even say “Good evening” and just rambles on about what he thinks my full lips feel like and I went clean off on him? Kiss my ass. Because the shit is just not on social media the shit happens when I am out in society.

Grown ass men don’t even have the social skills to step to a woman and simply say “Hello, my name is..” Grown ass men stepping to me with “Damn, what’s good.” Yet I still say “Hello..” and his dumb ass come with “Where your nigga at”. This is why a lot of women, regardless of race are walking around here single mothers without a man in sight because “They wanted to give him a chance” and “Not everybody perfect”. I am not asking for a perfect man, but damn can I have a decent fucking conversation at first glance?  It is really baffling when dudes have fucking daughters and yet they treat women like trash. Like has the thought ever occurred to them that the shit could turn around on their fucking daughters?

Oh and I don’t believe in struggle love. This whole “money isn’t everything, hold a nigga down when he don’t have a job, home, unemployable, have your first date at Bojangles, sleep on a park bench with him until he come up” bullshit memes are just a ploy for women to lower their fucking standards so these lazy ass bum ass niggas can get cheap to free pussy. I don’t believe in that bullshit because in the next fucking breath, dudes are talking shit about females who are either single mothers, struggling to find a job, sleeping on a friend’s couch because she’s going through hard times, on food stamps or wearing leggings because that is all she can afford at the time being until things get better. Why the fuck should I hold a nigga down when he’s going through all of this shit and date him and carry him when I did the shit by my fucking self without help. If you are struggling like that, he need to be focused on himself and not anyone else. Hell, that’s what I did. When I was finishing up my first degree, I lived in a homeless shelter for six months, made money under the table by tutoring other students, as well as looked diligently for a job and once I found that job, I moved into my own place. BY MYSELF.

Oh and for you “please pick me” bitches out here who always have something to say about women being “stuck up” and “bitter”, please by all means tell me why the fuck should any of us listen to whatever the fuck you have to say? When you’re arguing on every social media invented because your ain’t shit baby daddy pulls no call, no shows when coming to get your kids.

So don’t tell me that I am too hard, my standards are too high, or I am bitter because I want and demand the respect that I deserve. Do not fix your mouth to tell me that I am too strong for a man after all the shit I have been through without one by my side. I can do bad by myself, so why should I do bad with one?

YOU WILL NOT COME FOR MARY J.BLIGE!! : “Strength of a Woman” Review

For those of you who are in the internet world saying that Mary J. Blige’s album is trash or mediocre, have a stadium of seats. First things first, let me address the critics who are calling Mary “weak” because her album is full of hurt, pain and storytelling about her sham of a marriage that she thought was real. Let me address the critics who are calling Mary “weak” because everybody knew that Kendu was fucking her protege’ Starshelle but her. It was so obvious, that an employee of Mary’s record label stated “It was the big elephant in the room that made everyone uncomfortable, when the three of them were at events together”.  Yes, let me address the holier than thou critics, who are calling Mary weak for being used, emotionally abused, cheated on and made to look like a fool in the public eye by the very person who is supposed to love and protect her. Unless you have been in that situation, then you don’t know what the fuck you would do. People KILL me judging others and their situation, mouthing off about what they would do when they have never been in that predicament. I think Mary is pretty damn strong if you ask me, being that she’s not in a jail cell facing two first degree murder charges. Over half the people talking shit about her in the blogs or on social media are in their own fucked up relationship. Probably got a man sitting at home, not contributing to shit while they slave at their minimum wage jobs trying to make ends meet.

On “Strength of a Woman” Mary tells us her story through song. Everything she had gone through during her marriage and everything she is going through now is being revealed to her fans. Mary has always delivered albums that every woman can relate to and this album was no different. On the single “Set Me Free”, the lyrics “There is a special place in hell for you” caused a shiver to go down my spine as I not only reminisce on my heart being broke countless times to so called friends hurting me as well. You guys, Mary is going through hell right now and she still found the strength to deliver great music and gave us a heart felt thank you for allowing her to vent to us. Yes, she actually thanked us for listening to her vent. “Thick of it” which is a hit song, Mary empathizes and relates to married women who are fighting for their marriages and the thick just keeps getting thicker. But the one thing I admire most about this album, on the single “Indestructible”, Mary tells women to not beat themselves up for falling for foolishness when it comes to men and to not stop healing. Mary tells women to open up to love again and not to let one bad apple spoil the bunch. This is what strength of a woman is all about. It’s about finding the strength to get up, move on, face the public, face the embarrassment and still consider falling in love again. Listen to “Strength of a Woman” on Itunes and Amazon Music.


Is This the Career for Me?

Did I pick the correct major? Should I just put my degree on the shelf and work in another field? Why did I even go to the college? I’m still asking myself this damn question after I accepted my first position in my degree field. When I first got the job offer I was ecstatic, crying tears of joy and thought that I was the most luckiest, blessed woman in the world. I was finally able to leave a job that did not appreciate me, did not value my work ethic, and paid me peanuts.  I was going from making eleven thousand dollars per year to making over thirty-two thousand dollars per year. I was so excited because I was finally able to afford a vehicle and rent by myself, without a roommate (A small one, but hell it would be mine). I finally got my foot in the door to the career I have always wanted, finally! But I’ll be damned if I didn’t start having bad days a month into my “dream job”. Starting off into the mental health field with just a bachelor’s degree and without experience, you don’t get a cushy office, with a cute oak desk and a large window showing a view of the Elizabeth River. You don’t get a receptionist to take your calls, you don’t get business cards with your name on it, and you definitely don’t diagnose anybody. Nope. With a bachelor’s degree, you get in your vehicle, go to several clients’ homes, pick them up, take them to look for jobs, job interviews, help them look for housing, and strongly suggest that they take their medication and take your advice on implementing strategies for saving money which they don’t. So twice per week I find myself filling up my damn gas tank,every day  driving clients around to accomplish goals that they don’t give a fuck about. I care and try to help people who don’t give a fuck about themselves, I try to help them get out of the sunken place, crawl out of poverty and yet they don’t even give a fuck. I find myself giving a fuck more about them than they do themselves.

I am all about wellness, getting better, being mentally healthy. I don’t believe in enabling, making excuses or just wallowing in despair. I believe in accountability, responsibility and actually fucking trying. So why am I made out to the be the bad guy when I tell my clients that I know they have the potential to get better? Why am I made out to be the bad guy because my clients are getting better mentally, emotionally and financially? Oh I already know, however for the sake of not being blacklisted in the mental health field I won’t even put it in this blog. Let’s just say that state funded insurance is a billion dollar industry, and if you try to stop the security of the bag, then that’s a problem

Rape Accusations: The New Hustle?

The new slap in rape survivors’ faces is that “victims” are cashing in on their trauma. Instead of bringing their attackers to justice, they are bringing them into private conference rooms to negotiate settlements in exchange for keeping quiet. But what if they were threatened into taking the money and keeping quiet? Oh please. If that was the case, then how in the hell does the public always find out about it? “He raped me back in 2o12 and paid me to keep quiet but I am saying something now, a few years later because he told me he is no longer financing me” type spill. This isn’t a black thing, it isn’t a white thing, it’s a low class, poor excuse for a human being thing. The women who swallowed their fear and refused to be a victim but a survivor and brought their attacker to justice, pointed at them, made them accountable and even if they got off on some bullshit technicality, the fact that they stood up and defended themselves and protected every future victim is what really counts. These women that are suing these celebrities and hedge fund boys for cash are not traumatized. They are simply looking for a come up, willing to do whatever it takes to sell their soul to live above their means.

To put a price tag on your body is one thing but to invest in sexual trauma is a whole new low. Two women sued rapper, The Game for sexually assaulting them on his reality TV show “Dating The Game”, one of them winning a whopping 40 million dollars. Of course the award winning rapper, appealed the lawsuit, which is still pending and is still sticking by his innocence to this day. Another woman who would rather stay anonymous, stated that Derrick Rose raped her and she sued him for millions, he appealed, fought back and presented evidence that it was consensual sex. The NBA player went as far as to ask the judge for an order to drop her anonymity to expose her. Which I fully agree with. Why? Why be anonymous? Because she knows she falsely accused an actor, athlete, or rapper of rape. Using a traumatic, violent, disgusting, incomprehensible sexual act as a come up for fame. Book deals under false pretenses, attention whoring interviews and over dramatic appearances on talk shows. They are the reason why real rape survivors are not taken seriously. The reason why real rape survivors are shunned into silence.

When are we going to hold these women accountable? Women who stick together and have each other backs also hold each other accountable for their actions. None of the women who are falsely accusing these men up of sex crimes  are being held accountable. It is always the same excuse. “We weren’t there”, “Only God knows what happened”. But the answer and the proof are in plain sight right in front of everyone, we are just so engrossed in our own experiences of rape that we automatically take the “victims” side. But the ones who are being falsely accused are victims as well.

When is it Enough?

My best friend and sis from the other side of the United States asked me this question on Friday. I had told her how yet again I became humiliated and hurt by family. This story is nothing new to her or me but for some reason I was in extreme pain. Any other time when I experience family hurt I brush it off because I am so used to it, I have become numb. But this time, I wasn’t numb. I was in extreme pain, anger, intense sadness, and despair. During Face time my best friend could see the hurt in my eyes and I trying to cloud it over with an “I don’t care” facade. Nobody’s family is perfect but nobody deserves to be humiliated constantly. I don’t deserve to be used, abused, broken down, or someone’s minstrel show. I have been so used to this treatment that I just go with the flow. Ever since I can remember I’ve been abused. Abused by my mother, my siblings, emotional abuse by my father, used by “friends”, by men. When I am of no other use for them I am cast aside like a sporting fish. Friends using me when their other friends don’t have money to hang out with them, men using me when the woman they want don’t want them around. The older I got, the less patience I got with those who were not adding to my life so I just cut them off. But I have always had a weakness with my family, immediate and  extended,  allowing them to get away with mistreating me. Well, last week was the last straw and when my sis asked me “When is it Enough”? That was when my eyes finally opened and I became honest with myself. I am tired. Enough is enough. There is absolutely no more room for negativity in my life. Not now and not ever. I was so tired of tolerating people who use my kindness for weakness. Tired of beating myself up for believing that people should treat others as well as they treat them. When I don’t have to deal with it. Tired of people bringing up my past, my mother’s past and asking personal information about my life, pretending to care when really all they want to do is pick bits and pieces and turn the positive into a negative, make up stories because they just hate the fact that I have no drama going on. Only hearing from siblings when they are in a bind and they need me. A couple of weeks ago when I made it known that it was best that I moved to another state or worked abroad for at least a year, I was made to feel so guilty. But what the hell am I doing here? Why do they really want me here? So they can dig around and bask in my misfortune to take a break from their own miserable lives? Because once I leave, I will no longer be one call away to get them out of a financial bind?

After getting over the initial shock and embarrassment, which took all weekend, I decided now was enough and it is time to remove negativity and bad energy from my life. Not stating that anyone is a bad person but at this time I need nothing but positive energy around me and happiness. Over the weekend, I read several guidebooks, did worksheets on future goals, meditated and breathed fully. I have finally released and emotionally let go of those who have hurt me, humiliated me, put me in bad situations, and just all around neglected me.

Unemployment, Higher Education and the Black Community

Today I snapped. After forwarding my resume to countless employers to the point where it has become tedious, I finally went clean off. A human resource personnel emailed me back some spill about how my qualifications were not what they were looking for and “We are sorry we had to reject you for this position”. But that is not what pissed me off, what pissed me off was the fact that I had just submitted my resume to the employer at two am this morning and they sent me some rejection email at six am. So I emailed the human resource personnel asking them did they even look over my resume thoroughly? Or were they searching for key words? Then I asked the million dollar question that all college graduates seeking jobs in their degree field, would like to know or college students that are graduating in the next two months would like to know: How in the hell are we suppose to get experience in our degree field if nobody will hire us due to lack of experience?

African Americans have been taught since we were old enough to start school, that the only way we would become successful is we have a college education. I remember taking a class in middle school where the teacher told us that if we only had a high school diploma and no college degree, then we would wind up making only 19k per year which is barely enough to pay rent. During Black History Month we learned about first black educators of this college and that college, HBCU founders, first African American to receive a bachelor’s, master’s, and doctorate the list goes on. But why are we wasting years of school, hundreds of thousands of dollars to obtain an education that we are barely getting hired for? Many African American college graduates are working in entry level jobs only making 25k per year but yet have a master’s degree in engineering. Makes me wanna holla.  Does this contribute to mental illness in the black community? You damn right it does. A single mother is working a dead end job and has growing children to feed and the bills to pay while paying off a 45,000 dollar student loan debt for a degree in counseling she worked her ass off for late nights, early mornings, screaming children, ten page papers, deadlines, prayed for a C so she can graduate. A man who is currently renting a room to live in while working a fast food gig, searching for a job that will take a chance on him because even though he has an engineering degree, he does not have any paid experience in engineering. And I know what you are thinking people. What about internships? You and I both know internships are hard as hell to get especially when it comes to location.

Shit like this causes hopelessness, hopelessness causes low confidence, low confidence causes little voices to pop up in your head and  say “You’re worthless” “You wasted thousands of dollars for a worthless degree”.  Then you start believing it every single time you get a rejection email from a potential employer. Then depression sets in and boom, that is the beginning of a downward mental illness spiral. You have every right to feel hurt, angry, rejected and misunderstood. Especially being that you have spent thousands of dollars for an education that you thought you would get to cash in to. Do I feel rejected? Yes. Do I feel like I am worthless? Yes. But I know things will get better and we are not the only ones who are going through this. Demographic wise a lot of us did not come from silver spoons and trust funds. We have to work hard to get the least little bit that we have. It is understood when a black man turns to the bottle, after he gets his 200th job rejection email or letter and also comes home from an less than promising interview to an eviction notice tacked on his door. We understand that all too well. The problem is when we finally become successful we forget about the struggle. blogstats2


Interrupted: The Plight of Mental Illness in the Black Community

blogI was diagnosed with Post-Traumatic Disorder and Manic Depression at the age of 15. After suffering from abuse at the hands of my mother for as long as I can remember, the state finally moved me from her custody into my grandmother’s. My grandmother couldn’t do it alone so my great aunt, my grandfather and my godmother helped her. Loud noises still scare me to this day, I hate the dark, I get anxiety attacks when I am in a room full of people I don’t know. It took a long time to forgive my mother and I still don’t trust her. I still take one pill a day to keep the blues away. As an African American woman I have no problem admitting that I used to be ashamed of my mental health. Why? Because mental illness is very stigmatized in the black community. The black church telling the congregation “Depression is a sin”, “medication is not of God” “God is your healer” blah blah blah blah…. Causing African Americans battling mental illness to suffer in silence which overwhelms them causing suicide. Once suicide takes place everyone asks the same question, “What went wrong”? The clue was sitting right there in front of them but they just chose not to acknowledge it.

My mother had decided to give her life to God and change it for the better. She made the mistake of thinking that just because her life changed the other lives that she impacted would change for the better too. Like all would be forgotten and we would all move on like one big happy family. I remember how insulted I felt when she said “Well, the past has gone away. Jesus heals so you don’t need to see a therapist”. She became so upset when I told her that just because she can just forget how she hurt others in her past, doesn’t mean the rest of us can”. Brothers and sisters, please stop suppressing your hurt and pain and get help. If not for yourself,  for whatever it is you find yourself living for. Just like your life, your mental health matters and is important. Don’t be ashamed to take a pill to balance the serotonin in your brain. Don’t be ashamed to sit down and speak with a therapist or psychologist so you can pull the hurt out by the root and start healing. I did it. So can you.