Suga Mama


Dear Beyonce’…

Though I love your James Brown spirit of being a hard-working Diva (the female version of a HUSSLA)…I got a gripe with you. It’s GOTTA be YOUR fault. Yep, I love me some Bey and those reading this will be in mouth-agape shock because they know I SANGS to your music and pops my area where the booty go, to all your stuff…but, Bey…

No for real…Bey…

Why you got some of these lazy lima bean menz out here looking for suga mamas and tryna get upgraded? Huh? They tryna get Audemar Piguet watches, dimples in they necktie, Hermes briefcase, Cartier top clips, Silk-lined blazers, Diamond creamed facials…VVS cuff links…Six star pent suites…all because you sang it.

Can you do a remix called, “Suga Mama’s Suga Papa”?

Love, Kween

All jokes aside…what in the cheap and lazy HEYELL is going on? I should NOT be doing back flips and cabbage patches around the room when I see a man who is about his business. I see my friends from HS who have grown up and are on their grown man B.I. and I dig it. It’s what they’re SUPPOSED to do, right?

So, I suppose some of these fools skipped class when they did Manhood 101?

Okay, before this becomes touted as a male-bashing blog…lemme dig in the ladies’ asses real quick. *getting spoon*

Sistas (Black, White, Asian, etm…) We have spoiled men. Whether we’re doing it financially or otherwise, we’ve become crutches to men who are able-bodied and mentally capable of being more than our sex partners. I’ve said before that the music/movie/TV industry has had a big impact on how our men weigh up what it is they want from us. Are they the only ones affected? No. We, too make decisions at times based on societal standards rather than what works for us and the life we live…the life we WANT to live. The standard is women who make their own and for us it’s guys who are sensitive and romantic. Yet, if we’re looking for romance and the best “O” we’ve ever had and NOT a man who is stable and independent, that can be a bad match. This isn’t about being gold-diggers or gigolos…it’s about remembering our roles. Not our traditional roles, so to speak…but, our God given roles…the ones that are primal and base instinctive. Men are by nature the hunters and gatherers and women are by nature the nurturers and bearer of children. Add this to today’s contemporary, feminist society and you get a lot of women who work and raise children…and a lot of men who don’t work but still manage to tap into the need to roam. Isn’t that some shit? Women are expected to evolve AND comply…men aren’t. We are STILL expected to birth children and keep a home, no matter whether we work a full-time job or not. Men however, have taken to getting over on their mates by allowing her to bring home and fry the bacon…while he eats and plays with Simba…

It’s our fault in a lot of ways. I’m all for paying for some dates…seeing something in the store that my man would love and purchasing it for him. That is love and nurture. That is thinking of him as I think of myself…but, if I’m the only one buying, paying, offering, sacrificing…while his money is his and mine is his, too…that’s enabling his selfish behavior. I am in that moment a co-dependent of his selfish, childish nature as well as exhibiting potential desperate tendencies. Allowing him to drain me of my resources because, “I love him”…while he either invests somewhere else or he just becomes a black hole of my “love”. BOYS expect mommy to pay. MEN expect his woman to pay only in an extreme case that he is not able to…he doesn’t expect it on a regular basis. Money is a tender issue and should be handled gingerly in relationships. It can be the end of an otherwise very positive union. When dude finally leaves…you’re drained of your resources, you have no man and you’re most likely bitter, too. Remember, in an uneven relationship…you’re most likely lonely already, so what do you have to lose?

Now, back to them…

Guys…really? I’ve gotta hand it to you. You may not be listening to Bey…but you just may be pumpin’ Ne-Yo’s “Miss Independent”…LOUDLY! You guys are good at sizing up the “easier” catch. Hmmm…*pulling out scale of choice* A woman I may have to take care of, work for/beside, become a better man in the process, step up to the plate for and with? Or…the chick who wants, needs and desires a warm body so badly that she’ll buy me, pay for me, etc? It’s not that hard. If a man is content in being stunted in his emotional dependency on a woman (red flag: mother issues), then he isn’t going to want to be with someone who commands his spirit to stand up and be the man in the equation. He IS going to gravitate toward the woman who doesn’t mind paying for his phone bill, the trips, the food, the rent…esp. if he is “pursuing” a goal yet to be named or reached. Easy beats out Hard…every time. 

Now, don’t get me wrong. Some women aren’t actually “buying” their men because she’s desperate or needy. Some are doing so, because she’s actually so generous that giving is second nature to her…but that is [unfortunately] a handicap in this day and time, because feeble men prey on that quality. In a sense…she doesn’t even KNOW she’s buying his affections…securing him in this fashion. Yet, it yields the same results…his laziness.

That’s the point. Not EVERY man knows how to accept a gift or ten from his lady and still remain vigil in his role as a provider. To still remember that a woman is one, whom in taking care of everyone around her…needs his strength to envelope her and let the world’s effect melt away with him…just the way we do for him (or should). We’re supposed to take care of EACH OTHER. Ladies, if you’ve been with a man long enough that you consider yourselves in a relationship, you’re monogamous, you’re “in love” and planning a life…and when you mention to your man that you’re struggling and stressed over finances…he gets silent or says he’ll pray for you and hopes it gets better? Reconsider. Reevaluate. Introspectively probe your relationship’s future and ask if you’ve chosen the right man. Like I said earlier to someone…”Men wanna get between your thighs, but they don’t wanna get between you and your bills.” Laying up in a woman’s place, eating her grub, loving her body and leaving isn’t the business of love…that’s the business of hooking up. It’s not about “paying for sex” so don’t go there…it’s about USING someone without the responsibility that comes with having a deep concern for them. Someone who has your best interest at heart is going to show up when the tough is toughest. Once, I was “planning” a life with someone for 2.5 years and ONCE he threatened to care enough to send me money…and didn’t. Truth is…whether I said, “I’m good” or not…the money should’ve showed up anyway. We have to remember that supporting a man doesn’t mean funding a man…it means inspiring him to be the best he can be. Trust that his success as a man is and will be a benefit to him AND you. If he’s gonna leave, he’s gonna leave…no amount of money…or sex for that matter will keep him. Have his back…but, try not to cripple him in the process.

Sooooo, Bey…I’mma need you to come get your boys….

Do You Take This Woman? …Literally?

Everyday at work, in between bustling phone calls, being the copy whore and chuckling with my o-buds…I research. Something different daily to keep my mind spry on the down swings. I guess it’s the nerd/geek in me, but to me it’s a constructive way to keep me occupied and OFF Facebook as much as possible.

Recently, I’ve researched everything from French, Spanish & Greek alphabets, to constellations, to Greek/Roman mythology, to the origin of surnames. Today, I researched the bizarre origin of wedding traditions that many women utilize in their ceremonies in today’s age.

This one article on CNN Living was especially educational and interesting. I shared my findings with a couple of people. We all were like wow…okay. O_O

Some of my favorite ones were this one for instance…

The Garter Belt and Bouquet Toss

This pair of rituals has long been the scourge of the modern wedding guest. What could possibly be more humiliating than being forced out to the center of a parquet dance floor and being expected to demonstrate your desperation by diving for flying flowers?

How about grasping in the air for a lacy piece of undergarment that until moments ago resided uncomfortably close to the crotch of your buddy’s wife? At any other point in time, that would make you seem wildly creepy. So why is it acceptable at a wedding?
It used to be that after the bride and groom said, “I do,” they were to go immediately into a nearby room and consummate the marriage. Obviously, to really make it official, there would need to be witnesses, which basically led to hordes of wedding guests crowding around the bed, pushing and shoving to get a good view and hopefully to get their hands on a lucky piece of the bride’s dress as it was ripped from her body.
Sometimes the greedy guests helped get the process going by grabbing at the bride’s dress as she walked by, hoping for a few threads of good fortune. In time, it seems, people realized that this was all a bit, well… creepy, and it was decided that for modesty’s sake the bride could toss her bouquet as a diversion as she made her getaway and the groom could simply remove an item of the bride’s undergarments and then toss it back outside to the waiting throngs to prove that he was about to, uh, seal the deal.

WOW…really son? That’s some freaky shit. Gathering all around the newlyweds bed to see him hit it? The crowd ripping off chica’s gown to get a piece of her “good fortune”? (Because CLEARLY being almost forced to screw hubby in front of a gang of pervs is the absolute BEST fortune!)
Yea, that’s some kinda crazy. I even got a kick out of the fact that the bridal party was originally meant to aid in distracting naysayers, ill-willed bastards and crazy exes. I guess in a way, that’s a good damn idea…except of course the ex is some crazed gun-toting, knife-wielding maniac refusing to let anyone have you…since they can’t. Can you imagine that? One of the bridesmaids getting snatched up and then tortured once Ex O’Nutso realizes he’s grabbed the wrong broad to kidnap.
It’s interesting that the tradition that women go ga-ga for is steeped in shotgun wedding techniques and forced unions for the sake of debts, status or sacrifice. How a family used their daughters as currency and bargaining chips. How brutal is that? It’s unbelievable how the meaning has evolved into something glamorous and almost coveted. Women will beg, borrow and steal…often putting the future of said marriage in jeopardy…all for the sake of the most beautiful wedding they CANT afford. I guess we should just be lucky that we’re doing it by choice, now…

Just kidnap me and call me Mrs., why don’tcha…

Ahh, The Single Life

Ladies…well, SINGLE ladies…tell me something…

Tell me what it is that you cherish about your single lifestyle.

Everyone knows that when you’re a couple…you adapt and compromise your spatial habits. You choose a “side” of the bed. You alternate shower times (save for the showers together). You share groceries, learning to leave what they like and vice versa.

The toothpaste dilemma…squeeze at the bottom or in the middle?
Who takes out the garbage?
Does the dishes?
The cooking?

Those are some basic shared living experiences (or in some cases…visitation etiquette for those who refuse to shack up)…but, what about…

~farting passing gas/pooping…free to be stank. lmao
~enjoying a day off…no comb in sight
~eating garlicky food and not worrying that someone wants a kiss
~wearing mis-matched, somewhat frumpy clothing on leisure days

I mean, let’s face it…when you’re single…outside of a daily shower and a gargle, a day off can mean naps or a disheveled weave…combined with some eye gunk from interim snoozes between TV/movie/Internet action…you don’t have to do anything.

Sure, I maintain ME without a man around for my own personal pleasure…but, some days you just wanna say “Bump a shave…” LOL

Ladies…tell me what it is that you miss about being single when you’re coupled up. I can give you a Santa’s scrolled list of shit I miss about being in a couple…but, like “they” say, “You don’t know what you’ve got til it’s gone…” Perhaps, I’ll cherish this alone time until/if God brings my king…

Deja Vu: MORE Truth!

Beyonce: “…Jay…”
Jay-Z: “Are you ready?”
Beyonce: “…let’s get’em…”

[Jay-Z Rap]
I used to run base like Juan Pierre
Now I run the bass hi hat and the snare
I used to bag girls like Birkin Bags
Now I bag B ([Beyonce:] Boy you hurtin’ that)
Brooklyn Bay where they birthed me at
Now I be everywhere, the nerve of rap
The audacity to have me whipping curtains back
Me and B, WE about to sting
Stand back

YES! That whole intro (and the name of the blog and song) is PERFECTO! 

VERY soon, a blog challenge inspired by the previous 30 day TRUTH challenge that a few of us participated in…will come about for the erotically inspired!

My girl BE is working on a 30 day challenge of truth for the oh so sexy in us. You will be getting a full post of the 30 topics to be blogged on and if you have a regular blog…you may be inspired to either spice up your regular one…or create a special one like BE’s and mine: Almond Joy’s Sweetness and Passion’s Fruit isn’t for the weak…you WILL go into suga’ shock messing with us. LOL

SO “Let This BE a Warning” that you can either hop on and participate, sit back and masturbate (lol) and/or bring someone to help you “appreciate” the “Erotic’s 30 Day Truth or Dare Challenge”…soon to come, to some sexiness near you! 😉

Bigger Person (Blah Blah Blah)

Sometimes…I just DON’T want to be the bigger person. If I gave you percentages for how much I DO take the high road…it would be somewhere around the 98th percentile. I apologize, I check for, I shrug off PLENTY…but, sometimes…I deserve for folks to do that for ME. When the hell is someone gonna apologize to ME for once? ::hmph::

I have seen folks hold me to SUCH a high ass standard and then let fly-by-night folks get away with MURDER! WHAT is THAT about? I’m a little pissed right now and maybe if I just rant a little, it’ll go away. (I hope)

~sighing audibly~

By NATURE I care. I love. I love folks so much that it could almost seem disingenuous to someone who isn’t used to love. Everyday of my life I’m asking God for temperance…forgiveness and understanding and I try to give that to my fellow man…but some days, I feel like saying “whatever”. Why should “I” be the one to be the “bigger person”. Aren’t I already physically weighty? LOL Why I gotta keep digging down into MY spiritual pocket for change of heart? Some of the folks that I’ve loved have done me DIRTY! I have let some go and some others…we’ve moved on past the hurts. What I’ve found is a recurring theme…is that those same folks who get mad at ME for being hurt by THEM…allow OTHERS to hurt them worse than anything I would ever do. Yet…they forgive THEM. 

Look. Before I go any further…I love y’all. I know that this is a public forum and I’m opening up my situation for dissection. What I don’t want to hear right now is the whole “Season, Reason, Lifetime” shit. Save that for a day when Kween is more receptive to her OWN normal dogma. Today…I’m a woman with hurt feelings and a need to vent…

All, I’m saying…is I am always made to feel like I’m the WORSE person and it’s annoying as hell when MY record says I’ve done all I could, been supportive, been (at times) the SOLE cheerleader on a team of one and the moment a misunderstanding goes down, or time passes and I leave them to the choices they’ve made…I look up to see folks with AT-TEE-TOOD. Especially, when I’m thinking shit is okay.

I’ve gotta learn to let shit go. I soak up all kinds emotions from so many people and places [empath energy] so sometimes it’s a little hard to pack it up and drop it off. I’m getting better at it…but, I’m human. My chest doesn’t encase a titanium heart…I AM affected by the things people say and do to me.

I suppose, I need to be grateful for those who DO show me the kind of love I give…and not worry on the foolishness of other people’s pride and inability to see me for who I am. Forgiveness is always for you. That’s what I tell my friends. I guess I must tell myself the same thing. I am learning that forgiveness doesn’t have to be spoken for it to take effect. Though…some apologies need to be heard…and even if no one did anything specific, there’s a point where you concede and either move on or rebuild. I’m seeing that folks are doing a pretty damn good job of moving on, so that’s what I have to do, too.

Thanks for reading…or not.

Dia Treinta~ A Letter To Self (Dear Me)

…tell yourself EVERYTHING you love about yourself!

First…THANK YOU! Thank every person who read my month of truth and showed me unending support. THANK you for inspiring, being inspired, understanding, laughing and willing to learn more about me with an open heart. This challenge was sometimes fun and sometimes it was a pain in the ass. At times I didn’t want to reveal certain things. I DO believe that some shit just ain’t meant to be disclosed to an audience of many. So, thank you. For loving me past my truth and in spite of.
Now, the letter…

Dear Me,

I love you…more than I ever have. You’re quite the chick, you know that? You’re not too shabby…

I love that you’re growing at leaps and bounds. Owning your voice, your life, your love, your purpose. I love that you’re forgiving and nurturing…that in spite of “what others would do” you stand in the face of possible ridicule and heads shaking. “Kali, you’re better than me…” is a phrase you’ve come to embrace rather than cringe at. I mean, who wants to be known as the town pushover? No one…but, THAT is just IT…you know that it’s not about being a pushover, or gullible, or naive…it’s about owning your stride. It’s about harnessing your own power rather than give it away for another to dangle like a carrot at their whim. You GET IT! You get that life happens and that even though you may be a certain way…everyone’s not you. You get that everyone whose friend YOU are…may not be yours! You get that falling in love and being vulnerable isn’t STUPID…it’s LOVE. (I just heard Jill Scott’s “It’s Love” in my head).

I love you, girl. You’re smart but not pretentious. Fun but not a clown. Sweet but no fool. Strong but no bully. (I pretend to be but the truth is…do you). You kinda sorta maybe definitely know you’re pretty…but you’re not superficial. You know that you’re loved and yet you’re not afraid to face solitude. (LOVE my own company)

You’re humble. You’re honest. You have a child-like innocence, but you’re a realist. You don’t CARE what people say about how “inexperienced” you are because, ironically…with all people’s “experience”…they still somehow end up coming to YOU! (yea, I said that shit).

See! That right there! You’re back! You’ve grown into your spine and that’s a wonderful thing.

I’m proud of where I come from. My stock. My clan. My peoples…and I’m proud of who I am today. I know I’m God’s child and I know more than ever who he’s commissioned me to be. My legacy will not be televised…it will be told…from heart to heart…and I love that.

Love Always, from this life into the next…


**peace to this challenge and onto the next**

Dia Viente y Nueve~ Something I Hope To Change About Myself…

…and why.
Not quite sure. There’s a lot of things that could use a little tweaking. In the beginning of this truth challenge…I mentioned my fear, but I do believe that I am learning to use that fear as a barometer for my decision making. I do think that I’m getting to a point in my life that anything that I thought was hard has become easier…not EASY, but easier.
I DO think I can work on my sensitivity. Not sure how to do it though. I want to be able to shake off hurts quicker. Who wants to be a gaping wound? I know I don’t. I wish that I could find the ability to be Rick James cold to some shit. I don’t want to be so “tender”.
Being a bleeding heart is a full time, exhausting and trying job. YES, it’s a job! A thankless one at that. I’m learning to curtail my desire to help EVERYONE. Some folks LIKE wallowing in dysfunction and being the whipping boy/girl. So many people love the attention that comes with being the victim and/or being the savior. I call it the “heroic victim syndrome”.  People who wear fragile capes of triumph, yet are always the ones who get hurt. I can’t imagine a life of never EVER being at fault. I try to be accountable for my place in every situation…even if it just means admitting that I did nothing in lieu of something. That’s another thing I need to work on. Discerning the act of quitting with the instinct of self-preservation. Sometimes you just have to jump ship instead of stagnantly floating amidst the debris.
So yea, those are some things I wanna work on…AM working on. Change is a core transformation. It’s a journey that begins with you and your higher power. It doesn’t happen overnight nor is it most successful when done out of expectation. REAL change is for you and shouldn’t have any roots in the need for outside validation. It is the essence of the butterfly…metamorphosis of the soul. I want to earn my wings. 🙂

A Year Later

I had to write about it…I mean, it’s what I do. I blog. I blog my life, the life around me and in this instance…a life missed.

A year ago today, my grand-kween (as I’ve grown fond of calling her) left this plane for a more heavenly one. I remember the day so vividly. Waking up lethargically…not wanting to go into work. Sitting on the side of my bed, wondering how she was doing in the hospital and trying to wait for a good time to call my dad to check in on her. As I sat there feeling dismal with the dread of what I already knew…my sister called. She’d called the job thinking I’d gone in and decided to try the cell. She was on her way to get me because dad had called and asked us to come soon. The doctors weren’t expecting her to make it.

I began dressing and when sis got to the house…we left for Mt. Vernon.

When we got there…she was gone. I went to her bed where she laid…her chest still moving from the machines (to keep her viable until the family had seen her) and all I could do was hold her. I held her and cried the hardest cry to date. I choked on tears and pain and didn’t want to let her go…but, I did.

I’d done so two days before. I sat and spoke to her spirit and told her she could go. 81 years is a  grand and beautiful age at which to go out. 8+1=9…which is a number of completion…divine. (Think 9mos of pregnancy or the 9 numbers)

She was inspirational and loving. She had a hearty laugh and a sassy attitude. She’s made her mistakes, but still lived as best as she could without apology. She raised her kids and she held them down no matter what. She was a pillar of the community and helped many through her job at the city hall of our hometown. To sit in her funeral, March 8th, 2010…and hear so many speak of her as I knew her and MORE…was a wonderful way for her to cast off and transcend.

I am proud to be her grandbaby. Her “Baby Love”. Her “Monkey”. (the buck stops THERE…you will NOT laugh at the other name she had for me) LOL

I love you, Grandma…I miss you…and I pray that I make you proud in the way I’m living. Hopefully, I’ll see you one day not too soon.

R.I.P. Beautiful…

**I’m changing this pic as soon as my dad gives me another one 🙂

Oh Natchel

As promised…I’m keeping you guys posted on my natural hair journey. I washed my hair tonight and decided to give you all a peek at my “wig”. 11 months relaxer-free and this is what you get…

Before the comb-through

I’m clearly channeling Chaka Khan. LOL

I used Miss Jessie’s Curly Pudding that my girl Joy gave me. I like it so far. I messed up though. I should’ve deep-conditioned my hair but I was kinda rushing. Next time I’m gonna do an olive oil deep conditioning and THEN apply the pudding.

I wore it in a ponytail the next day…had some waves…

I ended up running a blow-dryer through it the next day after work. I couldn’t take it. I need to work on managing the texture better. Eventually, with practice it will soften and my curl pattern will relax.

I’ll keep ya posted 🙂

Dia Viente y Ocho~ What If I Were Pregnant…

Lil Kween tryna mother baby cousin

…or got someone pregnant?

Well, that last part makes me either a freak o’nature or my mind dick is POTENT! LOL

Sooooo…if I were pregnant. Well, that would require some sort of sexual activity or willingness on my part to be a surrogate mom or an invitro patient.

Let’s just say I DID do the pelvis pop with someone and got knocked up I’d be happy…as long as it was with someone who could be a full participant in parenthood. If I did manage to get fertilized by the neighborhood “gardener” who tended to NOT tend to his seeds…I’d still accept my gift and do the best I could to be a great mom.

I’ve wanted to be a mom for a long time. I always get the side eye from mothers. “Why do you want kids?” or the infamous “Be lucky you DON’T have anyone else to be responsible for…”.


I get the whole “it-takes-money-time-energy-youth-patience-and GOD” to raise a village…or at least a few denizens in your personal hut…but, I always wanted the experience of carrying to full term a child who shares my DNA and my idiosyncrasies and getting to see them form into their own person. At 38, the reality of this happening dwindles a little more everyday…especially with no real candidate for a husband. Either way…if I were pregnant…I’d thank God for trusting me with someone else’s life and do my best at not screwing them up. lol