The Gospel of Waiting.

I have been going back and forth to find the words to say why this is problematic. I keep hoping that the original post is just MTO lying, as they often do. The image was a repost to Vicki Yohe —a prominent christian singer's —page, she mentioned that she was honored to sing at the wedding, so I'm guessing its true. In the comments people are towing the party line, to say "its her choice." Speaking from experience, in some ways this is true. In so many ways it is not, despite what she and others may think.

Growing up, I got the gospel-of-waiting from two perspectives. 

One perspective was about empowering my own choices. I cannot tell you how valuable this was for me. This gave me the understanding that my body is my own, and that giving my body away to just anyone was not healthy –not physically (see: STDs), not emotionally, not spiritually. Made sense to me then, it makes sense to me now. Because, well, agency.

The other perspective was that I, as a woman, needed to maintain absolute purity in order to find a happy and full life. That any compromising of this could forever alter my destiny. Let me assure you that this hyperbolic viewing of the message, wasn't my childhood imagination running wild, I have literally had it said to me in that way. My childhood imagination did liken this potential occurance to when in BTTF, Lorraine accidentally fell in love with Marty (lol). I was left to believe the results weren't pretty. In service to this, I made choices, altered myself in ways from which I am still recovering. Because, well, who DOESN'T want the key to a happy healthy life?

Paul said "its better to marry than to burn," Paul also thought the world was ending. Neither was completely accurate. To tie a woman's value into the amount of penises she may or may not have entertained, is, so incredibly backwards. This barbaric approach is woven into every thought we have about women globally. We cannot choose to ignore the damage done to women (and men) by setting up this false framework.

We all know women, and sometimes have been that woman who believes that being assaulted was their fault. The woman/hymen value matrix doesn't have an equation for which assault is NOT somehow the fault of the victim. And thus, there is no power within. Not for women. If a woman cannot choose to have sex, and can also not choose to not be forced into sex then who owns her body? The answer people offer is that god owns it. Well then why does god conveniently look like a woman's dad or potential/hypothetical/existing husband?

The ability to form healthy, mutually beneficial partnerships is severely impaired by this lack of balance. If the power is imbalanced in one direction how can we expect the unit to be successful?

All in all, it was this young woman's choice, to whatever degree. I dont know her, but I would question how much of her life is truly her own, based on what I experienced coming from that same school of thought. That said, she has a right to remain a virgin and save herself for her husband. She has a right not to (and to feel no shame). I cannot, in good conscience, judge her for either. That would go against my principals. I must impress however, that the idea that she belongs to her father, and then ownership of her agency is transferred over to her husband, is unhealthy and it is wrong. It divorces her and any other woman from their agency. From their right to determine their own walk. 
 
It may be subtle, it may seem harmless, but having gone from living for other people to living for myself, I can say that there is liberty. Declaring my independence was the best thing I could have ever done. I am fully in possession of myself, my goal is to remain so. I know god walks with me, talks with me, and I trust the communion I have had with god since I was small.

From that vantage, I have had to forego the spreading of the purity gospel. I will always encourage anyone with a body to be safe, to make choices that are healthiest for them, and to remind them that they own themselves. Whenever possible any decisions they make should be their own, and that what they choose to do, is between them and god.

There is no shame in choice.

There should only be shame in the actions of those who would seek to take away choice.

How I Feel About Hil

I am politically apathetic. 

I make no apologies for this. 

I vote simply because somebody marched, bled and died to gain and protect my right to vote as a black woman. That's all. I was here for the Obama campaign. Popped my voter cherry on a straight democratic ticket when he got elected. Cool. I am not democrat, but I tend to vote the same way I assign loyalty in the Superbowl or playoffs —I side with the winners. Except when they are traditional-value-wielding-make-america-great-again nutjobs. Nope. Never going. My raging case of intersectionality isn't going to allow for that. Liberals don't impress me, but if I have to pick between the big weevil or the little weevil, I'm going to hedge bets and pick the lesser of two weevils (clearly I like puns too, heard that one this week from a friend, it was fun-nay —but let me return to the meandering point).

Here's how this apathetic feels about Hillary Clinton​: Y'all better step back and let that woman be great.

She may or may not be (read: is) showing signs of corporate puppetry. Her donor list looks like the sign up sheet at a Koch Brothers Anonymous meeting.  While her frienemy Uncle Bernie, who is 2 days from a "Weekend At," reboot, has all the feel good granola donors a true advocate of change would want. Awesome. *shrug* 

But politics is a long game.

Ted Kennedy did all the dirty things he could do in the prohibition era to make sure his shiny sons could have bids for office in the Rat Pack era. George Bush (poppa) went into office to start like 60 wars. He did all the things a Friend of Regan would do to the coloreds, women and the poor, so a Bush could rise out of the bowels of the hole Tom Hardy as Bane came from —or as the locals call it, Texas— to become one of the first Kanye rants. He did that. Not for us. But for the legacy of his loins or whatever. 

Hillary Clinton went from regularly being under a president who she was married to (pun intended or not, you choose) to being a serious viable female candidate for president, twice.

She did that.

If this is chess, not checkers (Hi, Dad), then she managed to be the ultimate underdog rising. No less than Obama coming from the middle of nowhere to be "I know... I won both of them" guy. No less than JFK being the first Irish president in a time when people were afraid of political papacy (kind of like people's irrational fear of 'sharia law'). No less than Bush Sr. shaking enough hands, wagging enough dicks, and making enough money to allow his son to be a folksy, don't-mess-with-Texan, who Rick Perry seemed to be stanning for so hard. No less than Dick Cheney, who wanted to be president as bad as Ice-T wanted to shoot Nino Brown, but was too much of a Cyrus to Fitz's Fitziness. He still managed to be VP despite Gil Scot Heron warning us about him ages ago (see: B-Movie).

Hillary is a shark in the water. In our political climate, that's not a bad thing to be. I would personally be down for one more Obama term, but Roosevelt's wisdom is a double edge sword. *long blink* I would be down with a Michelle Obama term, just on GP. But that's me writing fan-fiction, at this point in the game. Back to Hil.

My value system doesn't think it's okay that she is backed by corporate megalomaniacs. But that is the game. She could be a man of the people and get the little dollars or she can use that Clinton Legacy that she worked for and make that money honey. She can't win an election being the only person with a vagina and no balls. Sorry. Uncle Bernie is the white man everyone loves to love (except BLM, but I'm not even mad at that. *raises fist in solidarity*). People love that he is basically Doc coming in from the year 2015 to bring Marty back to the future with his wild eyed socialist ideas and sass-mouthing of the system. On principal I'm fine with this. But the Raving Right knows all the tricks of old white men, liberal or not. They can and will use their machine to silence that old guy if by some miracle he got the democratic nom. Because they know him. They are him. What they don't understand as their voting and filibuster records prove, is the power of the PU$$...you know the rest. 

The right figured with Obama's campaign runs, that they could edge him out with voter restrictions, their harvest of disenfranchised from the school-to-prison pipeline seeds, and that poorer whites would have the memory of a flea. They hoped that the good white folks would just forget the class war that they are constantly pawns so that the trust fund babies can have new Rich Kids of Instagram posts. I actually like RKOI, for reasons I can't quite identify. DJM. But there were lots of things the Right didn't count on in those elections, and alas, faced with no other options the white vote was galvanized and people of color showed up so the Jose Conservos lost. They don't understand how lady parts work, and they won't be able to shut her down. She's lived in that town long enough to know exactly what to do. If we put Bernie up against them, he will not win. We need someone to remain a buffer for us. They could run together, that might be cool, but Bernie shouldn't get the nom. Let Hillary usher us into a new(ish) era. 

Aside from her marketing team's crack cultural commentary in my inbox in between donation requests (she called me 'Friend,' I might have to invite her to the next BBQ), I'd say she's impressive, but not really what I'm looking for. If I had to pick a candidate I'd want a bleeding-heart-benevolent-I-don't-see-color progressive who'll sing freedom songs and kiss negro babies in the inner city while dancing off beat to "HELL YOU TALMBOUT" like the next man. But what we have is a politically seasoned, former Secretary of State. She has served in Washington and worked her way from First Lady, to Senator and beyond, is a graduate of Yale and Wellesley, with enough chutzpah to roll her eyes in a congressional hearing and live to tell. She is a giver of no dambs, and will do a fine job in an office ruled by the very people she has been able to persuade to hand her millions of dollars for a job interview. 

If we had to bet on a horse, she'd be Secretariat. 

*women are not horses or chattel, but I had to end my story somewhere, and I didn't have a Gandalf in my pocket to make that happen. 

Somebody Bring Me The Head Of A Dinosaur T-shirt

musings about coping mechanisms and fatigue

i.

I don't want to talk about Sarah
or Michael or Emmett or
Freddie or Medgar
or Oscar
or Eric
     or tomorrow’s name to be rallied for
     or yesterday’s that is too heavy to carry
     into the list of names I can run off the top of my head
today

I want to talk about little girls with long legs
straight backs
moving sure and stretched
as if they came fresh off the ancient plains
surveying all that they possess
feet grounded in the dust that possesses them
Carrying in these joints and bones
       regality unmatched
                    innate
                    genetic

Summer’s girls heading to park council meetings
about the plans for the day
or returning from the corner store
with the spoils of war in one hand
phones in the other

I want to talk about how one of them
has beautiful braids
uniformly done
swirled into a spectacular topknot
I want to discuss,
how the other young lady has
an afro so large that it billows like Wisconsin grass
one might see on a road trip

I don't want to talk about blue bullets
black on black myths
official reports and opinions that lie
I don't want to talk about pink fingers strangling
triggering
dripping with venom
or the stolen power trickling down their guilty hands
into the ink of the reports
so that all lives can matter or whatever

ii.

I don't want to talk about
             fingers
             guns
             batons
             policies
             bullets
             investigations
incomplete
done in nude colored shading to protect virtue
the same color of those mandating
I don’t want policies practices attitudes
that run contra with well intentioned ideas of morality

I want to talk about little boys
with high hair
knobby knowing knees
dirty nails
eyes shaped by the gods
who zip by on bikes up decently manicured streets
past working-class lawns
getting into shit because it's their right
forming the rest of the war council clubhouse
as they circle around beautiful faces with those long legs and straight backs
that they may take for granted, now
but will likely love and dedicate lives to later

I don't want to talk about how
as tax paying citizen grasping at this American dream
I couldn't even call the resource that I pay for
to help when my property was damaged
because I didn’t know how close
I might be to a thug’s mansion in hashtag heaven
if they decided to come

in other cities for anything less than a body they don't even show up

so maybe making us immortal
by pulling the mortal coil
that has got to be as kinky as our hair
is how they keep the quotas up

I don't know
I don't even like math

iii.

I don't want to talk
because these tidings
are eerily similar to things before
Don't want to even be saying this
but I must
because little girls
haughty in their step
diamonds in their backyard they haven't even found yet
hair piled, billowing
on top of their head

I don't want to talk about this because Google can't even pick up my regional accent

but I must
because we are not nude
we are not the default
despite being divine
I'm not enough for video nomination
but I am enough to emulate
to caricature
to cherry pick
a citadel of brick houses to pillage

I don't want to talk about this 

but I must
because though some of us may make the news
there are hundreds more who are never spoken of
not even in the margins
in the spaces between the borders
or where the dreamers are
they are made invisible
except when politically expedient
in certain election years
(though it can be hard to get a direct answer
to a direct question from those seeking to lead us)
there are those who have been here since the beginning
still being tread upon, who cannot
even ask for a name change
without hurt feelings
and the word ‘heritage’ being thrown around

iv.

I'm looking at a picture of a rock formation I don't know if I'm hungry but it kind of looks like a steak which makes me wonder about things bound on earth and bound in heaven which makes me wonder about relativity

if we were connected to the eternality that surrounds us everyday in the rocks who have known lives upon lives or the trees who reincarnate regularly or the wind we breathe in faithfulness would we treat each other differently?

v.

One thing I have known since I was a child:
aside from being magic
(and quite because of this unspeakable ability to be divine)
that for black people
our bodies are apparently so clumsy
our divinity so impaired
that we break our own ribs
burst our own sockets
hang our own selves while burning or waiting to be processed
starve our own selves with unseen hunger strikes
in cells while fighting for liberation
              breathing
              achieving
              liberation of the mind
              if not the self

we trip into gym mats
one shoe on the ground
one foot with a white sock
hiding color transgressions

we tie our own bodies to motors
and jump in lakes to see if we can float

yes we do all these things
when we do not tell our stories

vi.

when we do not tell our stories
straight backed little girls who have the audacity to be beautiful
who have the courage to be young
who have the determination to walk down the street in their power
not needing validation
are simply waiting to be statistics
waiting
to be in a supposed legacy of statistics

when we cannot tell
do not tell our own stories
kinky haired little boys
with knowing knees
on bikes
in groups
making pilgrimage to the park
are rabid
and must be put down for the sake of the herd

when we do not tell our own stories
or when we believe outside counsel and their myths
those bodies are a danger to themselves and others 

they must be monitored
they must be stopped
they must be frisked
because they could be next in a long line of
                “they did it to themselves”
                                 or
                 “if they would just…”

Someone bring me the head of a dinosaur T-Shirt,
so that I can forget the names
the faces
their pain
if i can cope today
maybe i won’t be on edge
if a cop stops me for ‘failure to signal’
maybe i can eat the angry words PTSD would give me
long enough to hug my loved ones again.
......

Genesia Williams, 2015

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