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I was at a family gathering at my grandmother's house a couple of years ago and I had on a top that showed some cleavage. At the time, i'm sure I didnt think anything of wearing the top, as it didnt have the girls "hanging out." My now 75 year old grandmother told me I need to cover up. When I asked why, she said that men were coming over to the house. Now these men, were my blood related uncles and cousins. I was completely lost, like ok grandma, and? She told me I need to cover up my breasts so they won't be looking at me. I distinctly remember my reply, "well they need to fix they damn eyes."

I was instantly pissed off! We already had men in the house. My three younger male cousins and my aunt's husband were already there, and grandma didn't have an issue with my clothing. But as soon as there was a rumble of the presence of extended family members, she had an issue with my attire.

Now lets address a few things. My grandmother was born in 1943. A generation in which modesty was synonymous with womanhood. I'm a plus size girl, always have been and grandma has an issue if I wear a skirt above my knees. I opted out of going to church with my family and witnessing a christening because I wore a skirt that showed my kneecaps. Now being who I am, I definitely pissed her off a few times. I've worn a few illicit outfits around her just to get a rise in my early twenties and it never failed. She would be 38 hot, my mom would shake her head, and I'd go on acting as if i didn't have a care in the world.

Present day at 32, I wouldn't dare wear anything so risque, if you will, in her presence. I think her views are misguided, but my opinion doesn't mean I have any less respect for her views.

(FAIR WARNING: this is where it gets ignit)

Having said that, lets rewind just a little to the Ariana Grande debacle at mother Retha's fune'l last week. Let's address a few things:

* it was entirely too long, like who has a 7 hour funeral
*it wasnt a homegoing service, it was a telethon. I was just waiting for them to flash the 1-800 number to call and make a donation.
*Michael Eric Dyson is that NIGGA!
*I blame Big Sean. How you giving that lil white girl that black dick for year(s) and aint teach her shit? Bruh, you aint take her round ya momma and dem?
*Bill is BLACK! This is not up for debate.
*Jessie and Bill was like them two old men that sit and play dominoes on the corner. They watch girls walk by and then talk shit about how they would have them bent backwards in their hay day. But when the sun goes down they go home to their wives.
* why do we act like we aint got pervs in the black church?
*Bishop Ellis is a prime example of what's wrong with our culture and the black church!

(Now that the ignance has concluded...)

Here's the thing, black culture is a catch 22 in alot of ways. But lets specifically discuss how we demean our young women. Had Ariana been black and came out the dressing room wearing that dress, somebody in her camp would have snatched some sense into her real quick. That outfit would not have been approved, Period. But she's not black, and I doubt she has anyone around her who is familiar with or accustomed to our culture. At least I hope not. But, that doesnt give "our men" the right to oogle her as a sex object openly and in the pulpit no less. Now looking gawking even is one thing, but to physically touch her in an inappropriate manner is just beyond ridiculous and borderline sexual assault. Not only did Ellis hold her in a visibly uncomfortable embrace while speaking into the mic and apologize for mispronouncing her name, as she sidestepped to get out of his grasp he held her tighter, all the while inching his hand toward and then finally groping the side of her breast. To make matters worse, he issued some sorry ass apology.

The real issue is (I mean outside of a clergymen sexually assaulting a woman in public, of course) is that we have become accepting of this behavior and excused it as a part of manhood. We tell young girls that their outfits shouldn't entice men, their shirts shouldn't be low cut, their skirts shouldn't be short, or their heels shouldn't be high. If a young woman is taken advantage of, her attire doesnt matter. What matters is she was assaulted! Had one of my male extended family members said anything inappropriate to me at that family function, heads would have rolled. I mean we would have still been cleaning up blood from my grandmother's hunter green carpet. I always feel safe with my family and male friends. I have never once felt that any of them would put me in harms way or allowed anything even remotely inappropriate to be said to me in their presence let alone it come from one of them. Now, I had one uncle that always got drunk and wanted a hug, but he got right after he got cussed out by my auntie.

That's another thing, while there are admittedly perverts in our communities, there are also matriarchs and patriarchs "who ain't having it." We are victims and protected at the same time. It is confusing yet common. Accepted yet despised.

Heres the bottom line:

Ariana's outift was inappropriate for a funeral. She needs to take a que from Fantasia. (Granted there is both an age and cultural difference between the two.) But Ellis doesnt get a pass for trying to take advantage of her due to his position and her ignorance. If she wore a two piece suit, the infliction would be just as vile. We have to do a better job of holding our men accountable and curtailing this mindset of accepting predatory behavior.

Single on purpose

I’ll be 32 in less than a month, and I'm still single. Five years ago that reality would have depressed me, today it's a comfortable truth. I won't provide any falsehoods. I fully expected to be married with a kid, 4 bedroom house, Master’s degree in hand, and a nice car. Well I got the car! Anyway, saying all that to say I had expectations for my life that were based on societal opinions of where “I should be.” I believed that if I was single at a certain age, there was something wrong. I had to be doing this or that. But if I’m honest, I mean completely transparent, I wasn't ready. Hell, I wasn't really ready till a few months ago. That realization hit during my last relationship.

I noticed slight changes in my daily mannerisms, the way I talked to him, the compromises I was willing to make, and what I was willing to accept. I was honest about my expectations and spoke up when I was unhappy with something. And even more shocking, there were a few times when I had to take a step back and say “babe, I’m in my feelings right now and I can't hear you, let's talk about this later.” It honestly was a great relationship with a great guy and when it ended, I walked away whole because I entered it whole. I mean I had my little pissy fit, drank a little bit, and had the obligatory break up night with the girls. Ok, a few “break up” nights with the girls, but the point is I wasn't “niggas ain't shit" angry.

It’s not like an I hate men and I don’t ever want to date again type thing. It’s like, this was a serious and significant relationship in my life, I honor that and want to give it the respect its due. Think about it like you went on a trip. This relationship is my suitcase. Normally when I return from a trip, I let my suitcase sit untouched for a while, honestly about a week or two. Eventually I’ll get tired of looking at it and decide to unpack it. I unpack everything, wash clothes and then let the clean clothes sit in the basket awhile. When I finally fold and put away all the clean clothes, I also clean my house, top to bottom. I clean fixtures, baseboards, throw out old and unnecessary items, and reorganize. Before I have any new visitors, I make sure my home is in pristine condition. I feel the same way about my life and romantic relationships.

Like I said before, I was able to walk out of this situation (or  any other for that matter) whole because that's the way I walked into it. Before there was an opportunity for him to even approach me, I had to get me in check. And let me tell you, looking in the mirror is no easy task and I needed some help doing it. So I went and sat my ass on “them peoples” couch and told all my business. And you know what, it helped, a lot. Therapy helped me to fix me which was the common denominator in every single failed relationship (romantic, familial, or platonic) in my life. I took inventory, adjusted my attitude, fixed my face, and most importantly I changed my mind about what I wanted and expected from those who I allowed  to enter my life.

The season of single is sacred. There is something to be said for being guilt freely selfish. Having the opportunity to learn you, is priceless. It's a necessary time that we all too often take for granted. We're in such a rush to have sex or commit that we fail to see the satisfying simplicity in a good conversation. Singleness should be purposeful. Being single on purpose is by far the best thing I've ever done for myself and it provides better results. The most ironic part about this epiphany, if you will, is I’m actively dating more now than I did previously. Let me specify, casually dating. Don't get stuck on that.

I know this is not by far what you're used to from me on Tuesday, but every now and then I gotta remind yall I got a little sense. 😊

#t4

#FATGURLFLY

I am not a small woman by any means of measurement. In fact, I recall laughing hysterically while reading my medical records that identified me as “morbidly obese.” Hey, I just thought I was fat, imagine my surprise when I learned the medical community had a specific name for my condition other than overweight. *Kanye Shrug* go figure! I stand about 5 feet 10 inches and weigh over 300 pounds. Yep I said over 300 pounds. People never believe me though, I find that amusing also. Most women won’t dare whisper their weight, and find it disrespectful if even the nurse at their physician’s office asks. I could never really grasp that concept; I don’t see the big deal. The ironic thing is my weight, size, stature (you pick the adjective) has never bothered me or made me uncomfortable.  The sad almost unbearable truth is it makes other people uncomfortable. I can’t tell you the number of times that either of my parents or grandparents or family members or even my previous romantic partners made a snide comment. It’s funny to me now, however it wasn’t always. I remember fixing a plate and my grandmother standing over me to monitor the amount of food I put on my plate. Can you imagine how devastating that is? My mother and I are the biggest women on my mom’s side of the family, and taking into consideration my mom recently lost a decent amount of weight, I’m the odd man out. I stopped joining the family for Sunday dinners some time ago, at the time it was because I felt uncomfortable, currently it’s just because my schedule is always extremely full. I do try to make it at least once a month though. I made the absolutely awesome mistake some time ago of having a conversation with my ex about the physical features of women he preferred to date. Amid the conversation he said he would never date a “big girl” unless she was really pretty.  I laughed because I thought he was being a smartass as usual, he however did not even chuckle. I looked down at my left hand  4^th finger and twisted the ring he proposed with, then why are you with me. His response, well baby let’s say you’re lucky you’re really really pretty. At the time I shrugged it off, but later after careful consideration I was hurt and angry. It didn’t matter that I was a good woman, and catered to him, or that I ensured our financial security and future by effectively managing our income. Noooooooo I was really pretty so that excused what he considered to be the downfall of my weight. When my best friend and I are out, people always have something to say. Mind you she is a size 4, coco brown, and nearly 6 feet, this heffa needs to be on somebody’s runway, but she’d rather ensure you have a pearly white smile as your friendly neighborhood dentist. Anyway, she is always up in arms at these negative comments. She goes off long before I will, it is heartwarming at times though, she’s very protective of me. I laugh it off, but over the years I’ve learned that people making comments about my weight genuinely offend her. Once I did get her to see the humor in it. We do make an odd pair I explained, outside of us both being tall what do we really have physically in common? Maybe that’s why we get along so well, we can never borrow each other’s clothes. LOL!

Unfortunately, this is the norm, especially as it pertains to our children. Which brings me to the reason I wrote this blog entry. I was having a conversation the other day with friends, and one of them stated that her elementary school aged daughter was talked about consistently by family members because she was the biggest child in the family. I don’t think my face showed it, but I was floored and beyond upset and angry. This child is beautiful both inside and out. I mean she has this pure blemish free milk chocolate skin, gorgeous smile, and upbeat personality. Not to mention she is humble and respectful. But none of that matters, she’s fat bottom line. And honestly, from a fat girl’s perspective, I don’t think that baby is even fat. Not skinny, but nowhere near fat! She is such a sensitive soul, I really fear how the ignorant comments of other people, especially those closest to her could negatively affect her self esteem. Luckily though, that baby has me! That’s right I’m tooting my own horn, so don’t trip.

Outside of work, because I look like a straight up bum at work, I am one of the flyest chics you are ever going to see. Forget the clothes, the shoes, the hair; this is a fact for no other reason than because I believe it! Confidence is the most valuable accessory I own. I guess I’m just at that place of acceptance and kiss my assness in life. (Yes I said assness.) Meaning if you don’t like it, you can kindly kiss my ass. I got forty acres and a mule back there baby, pick an acre or your lips are quite welcome to the mule. I just can’t be concerned with other people, because at the end of the day we all gotta squat to take a shit.

I dated this guy about a year ago briefly, I mean very briefly. (That’s another story for another post.) Anyway the relationship or lack thereof, ended rather abruptly and on not so nice terms. Via text he told me that he always respected me because unlike most I carried myself like a lady, and commenced to calling me every combination of fat he could think of. Fat bitch, overweight, nasty; you get the picture. I found this extremely hilarious, before I had to call the cops (like I said another story, for another post). Let me explain my humor: 1. He complimented me, 2. the only thing he could find wrong with me was my weight. Boy I tell ya, people have this thing all wrong. Newsflash folks: BEING CALLED FAT IS NO LONGER A DISS. That’s why I don’t understand why people, are up in arms at times about my hashtag #FATGURLFLY!  Not that long ago my cousin posted on facebook  about how society is now glorifying being fat and unhealthy with this new plus size movement. Now you know I just had to set the record straight. This was my response “Nobody is glorifying an unhealthy lifestyle, that is not at all what this so called movement is about. However what it is saying though is that I am just as good, just as pretty, and just as significant at a size 24 as I am at a size 9. Society glorifies a size 6 and tells all little girls (and boys) that they have to be this and that to be considered attractive.  And that just ain’t the case! People measure attractiveness by the airbrushed pictures they see in the magazines. We are bombarded with slim and white to light or “perfect” images. But what happens when you pick up a magazine and see a chic wearing a size 18 or Lupita Nyong’o on the cover. Your perception of beauty just may change.”

When you reach the heart of the issue, it’s really simple. We’ve been told for years to be this size, look this way, etc etc. Me being fat is my rebellion! It’s not just because I like to eat, (cause Lord knows Tiny’s potato salad is my weakness) it’s because I like these ham hock thighs, chubby toes, and wide hips. I’m so smitten with me, the jiggle in my arms makes me giggle and that wiggle in a sundress puts some extra pep in my step. Now me and this tummy got some work to do, but all in all I’M FAT GURL FLY and I love it!  (LOL, don’t judge me.)

 

I'm Just Sayin

Niqi P.

Day 30

Day 30 November 2nd

Write a letter to your future mate saying whatever you want to say.

This is a little too personal for me.  I believe the relationship between a  husband and wife is sacred and private. So I'll keep that private!

day 29

Day 29 November 1^st

Who is your closest most special friend that you’ve never met and what do they mean to you? How did you cross paths? Talk about how you “met” them: Facebook, Twitter, and online support group, etc.

Don’t have any "close" friends I haven’t met. I am well acquainted with all the special people in my life.

Day 28

Day 28 October 31st

Describe a moment when you made a big, bold, move. In any area of life: career, love, etc.

I CUT MY HAIR!!! At the time, my hair was shoulder length. I‘d wanted to cut it for a few years actually, but my boyfriend at the time was like “why you wanna cut ya hair?” Basically it was a no go for him. So I didn’t cut it. I didn’t want to get a relaxer, so I wore braids for about 6 months. He didn’t like my “Janet Jackson in poetic justice” look much either. So my birthday do was a fresh feathered wrap, long and flowing. I couldn’t get a compliment out of him, if my life depended on it. SMH! So not long after I got rid of his sorry tail (side note: I really wanna say something else, but I’m trying to keep it PG and work on my “cussin.”), I got rid of the hair to. I mean, I CUT IT ALL OFF. Short cropped due, shaved down in the back, and fire red spikes.

I was scared to do it, because I didn’t know if it would compliment my chubby cherub cheeks. But I’m so glad I did. I loved that haircut. I felt bold and exposed, and I loved it. My grandmother nearly cussed me out, and called bald headed. My mom thought it was cute, but “drastic” and couldn’t understand why I cut a head full of thick and beautiful hair. It took this experience for me to realize how much emphasis society, puts on hair. I was in awe! For the most part, I got a lot of positive feedback. Most people couldn’t believe I did it. When I took the picture to my stylist, she brushed me off at first. But when she realized I was serious, she hurried a client out of her chair and commenced to cutting my hair before as she said “I changed my mind.” LOL!

I did that for about 3 months, stopped with chemicals all together, and just let it grow from there.  Currently I’m nearly a year natural, fro’ed out, and loving every minute of it. I am so proud of myself for being brave. I wouldn’t change this experience for anything in the world! But I’ll be nice to grandma around the holiday and straighten my hair. She doesn’t like natural hair either, and she makes me pie! LOL!!!

Day 27

Day 27 October 30th

Talk about something that you really, really, really love about yourself

 

I think I have the best sense of humor. I can pretty much find a little laughter in any situation, either that or it pretty much doesn’t bother me.