tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-46255903519754015052024-03-18T20:14:57.426-07:00Let It MarinateSimmer...for your edificationAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15407329310662403231noreply@blogger.comBlogger27125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4625590351975401505.post-7335866300922599492019-10-11T11:38:00.000-07:002019-10-11T11:38:04.140-07:00Perception is YOUR Reality<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTrBHAKwVDDsUEXlemasr6cYPrd0Zfo7ShLko6mxMYFMbEWnmThQRj1h0wvJB_qHuAgkViJVKemzOl0eQpiVAG8Oac5tOQ7wv2JtP8jsTFIY2m0yZRroP0jipKIC-3vThj2Qrxa2TyeTA/s1600/Act-of-perception.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="258" data-original-width="525" height="196" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTrBHAKwVDDsUEXlemasr6cYPrd0Zfo7ShLko6mxMYFMbEWnmThQRj1h0wvJB_qHuAgkViJVKemzOl0eQpiVAG8Oac5tOQ7wv2JtP8jsTFIY2m0yZRroP0jipKIC-3vThj2Qrxa2TyeTA/s400/Act-of-perception.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Y</b>esterday
was <a href="https://www.who.int/mental_health/world-mental-health-day/en/" target="_blank">Mental Health Awareness Day </a>and I’ve been thinking about how the lens in
which we view the world is probably distorted due to life experiences, biology,
genetics, trauma and most importantly UNRESOLVED mental illness.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Recently I
watched <a href="https://www.joker.movie/" target="_blank">the Joker (2019) movie</a> starring Joaquin Phoenix, a brilliant story on mental
health and distorted perceptions. I wonder if those murdering, gun-toting
domestic terrorists might suffer from a similar disposition because they haven’t
been able to unpack their issues--maybe they don’t even perceive those murderous
ideologies as problematic.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In some cases, it seems their perception differed so much from reality and went unchecked because their
loved one’s perceptions of them were also distorted. </span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It’s
important for us to sometimes look outside of ourselves, acknowledge our biases
to understand how we perceive things and checking in to make sure it’s healthy
and in line with what is actually going on. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I liken a
Distorted Perception and <a href="https://implicit.harvard.edu/implicit/takeatest.html" target="_blank">Implicit Bias</a> to be one in the same. According to
researchers, Implicit Bias is the unconscious attribution of particular
qualities to a member of a certain social group. Or also in my definition, the negative
perception of a people because of exposure to stereotypes reinforced by media
and zealous rhetoric. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A Distorted
Perception can be the same: You perceive your neighbor’s dog (and all dogs in
general) to be dangerous because of a dog attack incident in your childhood. You
perceive (your neighbor, a black men) to be dangerous because of a (purse
snatching) incident in your childhood. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It doesn’t mean
however that all perceptions that diverge from reality should be considered incredulous. A
healthy fear of recognizing that a dog still has animal instincts can be
garnered; A healthy awareness of your surroundings and securing your belongings
is OK. But if you let those warped perceptions invite prejudice or negative
actions, you are crossing over a line into a more insidious territory.</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You may not
even recognize these issues—hence where regular mental health therapy sessions
can be beneficial. As it was for me in my college years.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Nine years ago,
on Halloween I was raped by a man in a hoodie. EVERY single time I see a black
man in a hoodie--I get triggered. It got so bad that one day I unknowingly treated
a man unfairly. When I mentioned the situation to my therapist she helped me
unpack that bias and I had an epiphany. Through therapy, I’ve learned to
mitigate my bias. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My therapist asked me
to monitor my heart rate while people watching at a park. Sure enough, every
man in a hoodie triggered a negative response. I now must counter that
perception with some mental gymnastics and a reality check. Doesn’t mean I’m
not still triggered--it just means I’ve recognized the perception is
problematic and I have to work a little harder to mitigate that. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Don’t think
for one moment that I am trying to devalue your human experience and range of resulting
emotions. Your perception is a real sensation for you, the emotions that result
are real. You should own them, go through the motions and diplomatically speak up
if you feel unsafe or are experiencing injustice.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But also
recognize that if your perception is significantly divergent from reality it
can cause a rift in relationships and your livelihood. For example, you make
numerous complaints to animal control on your neighbor’s dog because he sniffs
your petunias during walks, thusly alienating a potential friendship; Or you call
the police on a black man for barbecuing at the park, thusly being the laughing
stock and memes of social media. (no shade) lol<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Perception
is YOUR Reality, here are a few tips to consider from Psychologist, Jim Taylor, PhD in <a href="https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/the-power-prime/201908/perception-is-not-reality" target="_blank">PsychologyToday</a>:</span></span></div>
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<ul>
<li><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Don’t
assume that your perceptions are reality (just your reality)</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Be
respectful of others’ perceptions (they may be right)</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Don’t hold
your perceptions too tightly; they may be wrong (admitting it takes courage)</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Recognize
the distortions within you that may warp your perceptions (seeing them will
better ground your perceptions in reality rather than the other way around)</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Challenge
your perceptions (do they hold up under the microscope of reality?)</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Seek out
validation from experts and credible others (don’t just ask your friends
because they likely have the same perceptions as you)</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Be open to
modifying your perceptions if the preponderance of evidence demands it
(rigidity of mind is far worse than being wrong)</span></span></li>
</ul>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 16px;">Let it marinate!</span></span></h4>
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Kasshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10893651618226891305noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4625590351975401505.post-76999410612441576432019-07-19T08:34:00.002-07:002019-07-19T08:34:55.870-07:00Doesn't Matter<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I am the
mutha fuckin SHIT!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I am too
legit to quit!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So I think--Hey!
Hey!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But that
shit don’t matter.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You could be
the queen of England with a golden pussy on a platter…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">None of that
shit would matter.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You could
cook, sheave, clean.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Be his black
queen. Rub his back, tell him he’s the shit. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Be his
peace, give him laughter.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But to an
undeserving nigga, none of that shit really matters.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You could
spin around keep the dick still inside, stroke his egostick on a magic carpet
ride.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And STILL
that shit wouldn’t even matter<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">He could
have his cake, have his way with your heart on a stake. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Throw two
shits to the wind, where oh where do I begin?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You thought
yo ass was up to the plate, first batter.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Haha, think
again bitch—doesn’t matter!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You tried to
come in—like a wrecking ball.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Thwarting
and wreaking havoc on his emotional walls. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I am woman!
Hear me nurture. Receive my Love!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">With you, I can
see a future baby daddy…. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">BLOOP! Think
Again—Doesn’t matter Hoe! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Girl, let me
tell you…You got sooo much love to give. Why not lend your talents to someone
deserving. Someone who isn’t broken, and ready to receive all your gifts and swanky
things.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But I know
your type, the HGTV fixer upper woman of hype. You love the potter’s house
game. Ignoring the shame of entangling your emotions on a deserted love ocean because you like to tame. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The
irony of your pangs, is that you’re alone in the blame for the pieces of your
heart you must clatter. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Cause really…HE
doesn’t matter…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTx0vcJFrxOqSqrgHoPzbYJLXm6eT5Zem9weDuCwIrOSSOml0dThLymkzhIdZ_PMekQeGIG20MerWWpG5MUwvsbvlnjwd6rJYTeJZ_UAd_Mlax-eeIHh74aLQMOtfEezSFL_IeVXHj6qk/s1600/Janet_Jackson_-_Doesn%2527t_Really_Matter.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="220" data-original-width="220" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTx0vcJFrxOqSqrgHoPzbYJLXm6eT5Zem9weDuCwIrOSSOml0dThLymkzhIdZ_PMekQeGIG20MerWWpG5MUwvsbvlnjwd6rJYTeJZ_UAd_Mlax-eeIHh74aLQMOtfEezSFL_IeVXHj6qk/s1600/Janet_Jackson_-_Doesn%2527t_Really_Matter.png" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Maybe you shoulda got with the Nutty Professor sis...he'd appreciate you lol</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />Kasshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10893651618226891305noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4625590351975401505.post-38637517941113214162018-12-10T08:22:00.003-08:002018-12-10T08:23:20.515-08:00Low Carb Huevos Rancheros Recipe Since starting a Keto Diet in June or 2018, I've lost roughly 15lbs, I'm sharing my journey on an instagram page entitled <a href="https://www.instagram.com/diningoutwhileketo/" target="_blank">"Dining While Keto" </a> and Ive also created a list of <a href="https://www.yelp.com/collection/dnbsyiYcg0ZE23JADI_CVw?utm_content=Collections&utm_source=ishare" target="_blank">Keto Friendly Restaurants </a>on Yelp.<br />
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I wasn't a carbivore before starting this diet but some of my carby favorites like: Tortillas, Pizza, Rice and Plantains were not easy to replace. I've found equitable or even better tasting substitutes but the one thing I missed was Corn Tortillas, specifically Tacos and Huevos Ranchero. Almond Flour and Egg Tortillas just didnt cut it. And the CarbSmart flour tortillas were good but it wasnt an equal to the corn version.</div>
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I searched the internet high and low for a susceptible version of my favorite breakfast food, Huevos Rancheros but came up with the aforementioned egg/almond flour versions. Then a lightbulb went off in my head: I'd have to create my own version!</div>
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So here it is, my favorite breakfast recipe: Huevos Rancheros</div>
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This recipe doesn't call for the traditional Rancheros sauce, but the Beef Chorizo is a formidable companion in this dish.</div>
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<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Kassie's Keto Huevos Rancheros</span></b></h2>
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<b><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyJ02dwRVDnlJhZLROt6SG3rgB7Yvvew_-C4QUeAtpEtum_ylPNx8j11yh2Yg1cHqZHu-59N7mlOtMZJlPaB15V-JysrBv12Pt4AcLYOsiZiTCtreIRsH4HNd4mj9a1O1bG6LLdyeuN5k/s1600/IMG_3218.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyJ02dwRVDnlJhZLROt6SG3rgB7Yvvew_-C4QUeAtpEtum_ylPNx8j11yh2Yg1cHqZHu-59N7mlOtMZJlPaB15V-JysrBv12Pt4AcLYOsiZiTCtreIRsH4HNd4mj9a1O1bG6LLdyeuN5k/s640/IMG_3218.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Serves 2 people</div>
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Ingredients</div>
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Handful (1/2 c.) of finely shredded Monterey Jack Cheese per shell</div>
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1 Stick of <a href="https://www.caciqueinc.com/products/beef-chorizo/" target="_blank">Cacique Beef Chorizo</a></div>
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4 Large Brown Eggs </div>
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1 c. <a href="https://www.californiaavocado.com/recipe-details/view/31722/fresh-california-avocado-pico-de-gallo-salsa" target="_blank">Avocado Pico de Gallo </a></div>
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1 c. <a href="https://barefeetinthekitchen.com/avocado-sauce-recipe/" target="_blank">Avocado Cream Sauce</a></div>
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Step 1</div>
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Buy or make Avocado (or regular) Pico De Gallo according to linked directions. Set aside in fridge.</div>
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Step 2</div>
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Cook Beef Chorizo according to package directions. Set Aside</div>
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Step 3</div>
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Using a non stick pan free of blemishes or defect (I like using ceramic coated pan) on medium high heat grab a handful (1/2 cup or more) of shredded Monterey Jack Cheese and place in the center of pan in a circle about the size of a small tortilla.<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aUEDC3jGmh0" target="_blank"> You can click here to see the technique</a>. Fry until melted and golden, flip and fry the other side. Repeat 3 more times to make 2 shells per person.</div>
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Step 4</div>
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Plate two fried cheese shells per person.</div>
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Step 5</div>
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Take two spoonfuls of the beef chorizo and spread on each cheese shell</div>
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Step 6</div>
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Cook egg to your preference: Poached, Scrambled, Over Easy or my personal favorite Sunny Side Up. Place egg on top of the chorizo topped cheese shell.</div>
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Step 7</div>
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Take 1/4 cup of the Pico and place on top or off center of the egg</div>
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Step 8</div>
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Drizzle Avocado Cream Sauce</div>
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<b>Net Carbs per one Huevos: 7g</b></div>
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I like to accompany this with a mimosa (splash of OJ only) and a side salad.</div>
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I may update this with some more step-by-step photos. </div>
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Enjoy!</div>
Kasshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10893651618226891305noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4625590351975401505.post-18534231670348733292018-08-01T12:07:00.000-07:002018-08-01T13:57:20.632-07:00Dating Sucks In The DMV<b>I've</b> always been a super independent girl. I say girl because in some ways my independence developed as a juvenile and kinda got stuck there. Im stubborn, strong-willed and I always get my way--ALWAYS! So whomever God prepared for me needed to be even more independent and strong willed and tolerant (Lawdamercy he is patient).<br />
<br />
Dating in the DMV didnt suck but it also wasn't a walk in the park. As I got closer to my 30s I started to be more intentional about dating. I created a list of wants/needs, organized my priorities, became civically engaged, volunteered, traveled, attended church, you know...put myself out there. Tradition has it that when you put these techniques into place, a man will just fall into your lap. Thats exactly what did <b>not </b>happen to me.<br />
<br />
I didnt stumble upon my man doing these things alongside me. He didn't have time for that frivolous stuff--he was busy too!<br />
<br />
It was friendship. We started off as platonic friends, blossoming into something...<br />
<br />
Warm.<br />
Slowly burning.<br />
Crockpot kinda love.<br />
<br />
Physically, he isnt my type which is why it took me by surprise.<br />
<br />
I met him at a networking event in Spring of 2016, he was quirky, boisterous, outgoing, cocky, pleasantly annoying--basically a male version of myself. No instant attraction whatsoever. But we naturally were drawn to each other. It was like instant friendship, when we exchanged Facebook friend requests it was if we'd been old pals.<br />
Our conversations always flowed naturally and I felt at ease. I suppose that the lack of romantic intentions on either of our part helped ease our friendship into the bliss.<br />
<br />
Our first outing in the Summer of 2016 was a platonic "double date" with mutual friends. Really just 4 single friends on a random outing but we joked the entire night about the double date concept. I remember rebuffing flirtatious dialogue from our other guy friend and naturally being drawn back to my future lover's side. Still nothing romantic piqued my interest.<br />
<br />
But I could tell God was ordering my steps for something great. I had been on several dates that I now know were to prepare me. The man I had been talking to at the time seemed to be retracting from our teetering flirtatious friendship.<br />
<br />
Good.<br />
<br />
Make room for my new beau...<br />
<br />
Last summer I went to the emergency room feeling nauseous. Good ole Facebook just initiated a feature that captured your "nearby friends" and he saw that I was in the area wanted to link up after his side gig was over. When I told him I was in the hospital he rushed to my side.<br />
<br />
Guys, I was looking a hot mess. Liiike total hot mess. But you know what--because I still thought of him in the platonic sense, I didn't care. I moved with confidence and ease.<br />
<br />
Later on I mentioned I was moving and he said he could come help me move. Great! I had about 6 other guy friends helping out, I didn't think anything of it.<br />
<br />
He came over that Sunday and something clicked. We shared a bottle of red wine and I expressed my delight in the intricacies of the flavors and notes--he chimed in rhythm and that's when the lightbulb went off.<br />
<br />
Right under my nose. This whole time???<br />
<br />
Instantly, I started getting nervous, butterflies, sweat. OMG Do I really like this guy? We've been friends for nearly 2 years and its taken me this long to realize he could be The One?<br />
<br />
That late summer Sunday in 2017 we shared our first kiss and it was magical. Our lives and worlds have collided perfectly ever since.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlZ5hPr1GSWbT325vSQxazLgOPPIoeCTtQ6LUGC_tWjk1pnPvqu4hcIQqnEM_N7txTlpK45hDIJfaQOmGNa6WSPEYj1YEsOQThLEurmvVphRJ94WwFjLj7LpPqpMX0cigMfXMf8Tg4FmU/s1600/22814190_10210170051583500_1865437459184719924_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="563" data-original-width="563" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlZ5hPr1GSWbT325vSQxazLgOPPIoeCTtQ6LUGC_tWjk1pnPvqu4hcIQqnEM_N7txTlpK45hDIJfaQOmGNa6WSPEYj1YEsOQThLEurmvVphRJ94WwFjLj7LpPqpMX0cigMfXMf8Tg4FmU/s320/22814190_10210170051583500_1865437459184719924_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
The End.</div>
Kasshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10893651618226891305noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4625590351975401505.post-79999469266968177092018-07-26T15:02:00.001-07:002018-07-27T13:19:14.338-07:00How To Get Away With Murder: Be White.<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">E</span></b>ven though OJ Simpson was acquitted for the murder of his ex-wife, Nicole Brown and her friend, Ron Goldman, in 1995 the murders continue to haunt his public image some 20+ years later. Countless TV shows, documentaries, news broadcasts, and think pieces speculate on: "How OJ Got Away With Murder". Even though Double Jeopardy applies and <i>"he probably did it"</i> OJ isn't the first person to "get away with murder" and live a life relatively free of punishment:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="background-color: #783f04; color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">White People.</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Don't roll your eyes at me and think: "not another white people are evil" post. White people (some not all) have been murdering, raping, lynching, lying, trolling, torturing, beating, stabbing, whipping, bombing, sodomizing, shooting, and the latest--calling the cops on black people FOR CENTURIES. It should come to no surprise that when nearly 200 anti-lynching bills were introduced Congress from 1882 to 1968, only three passed the House. Between 1890 and 1952 seven presidents asked Congress to pass a federal law. Yet not one bill was approved by the Senate because of the powerful opposition of southern Democrats (read: "white people"). To this day lynching is not considered a hate crime and no federal law exists to punish the perpetrators. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">From the 1900s till the Civil Rights Movement (lets be honest "till NOW") Racist policies, racist attitudes and socially accepted forms of Jim Crow laws prevent(ed) black people from being civically engaged in their communities. Voting Poll Taxes, Literacy Voting registration tests, intimation tactics and a ban on Black jurors all lead up to the phenomenon I call: "White People Getting Away With Murder". Because of the racial attitudes of the majority of white Americans in the 1900s, thousands, (maybe a cool million) of white criminals got away with crimes like: </span><br />
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<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2017/01/27/us/emmett-till-lynching-carolyn-bryant-donham.html" target="_blank">Murder </a>of Emmett Till</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2017/dec/29/recy-taylor-alabama-dies" target="_blank">Rape </a>of Recy Taylor</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The <a href="http://www.maryturner.org/" target="_blank">Lynching </a>of Mary Turner</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The <a href="https://youtu.be/A1EAY0RDDJQ?t=29m40s" target="_blank">Beating </a>of Fannie Lou Hamer</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The <a href="http://www.maryturner.org/images/NewYorkAge.pdf" target="_blank">Aborting</a> of Mary Turner's Fetus</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The <a href="http://www.crmvet.org/tim/tim63b.htm" target="_blank">Torture </a>of SNCC field secretary, Don Harris</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The <a href="https://www.washingtonpost.com/archive/opinions/1999/05/28/the-mystery-of-officer-justin-volpe/7740205f-ab28-47a2-b632-bd8488aa6753/?utm_term=.f8b9f18d4cb4" target="_blank">Sodomization </a>of Abner Louima</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/1999/02/05/nyregion/officers-in-bronx-fire-41-shots-and-an-unarmed-man-is-killed.html" target="_blank">Shooting </a>of Amadou Diallo </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The <a href="https://youtu.be/jT790mx4ig4?t=55s" target="_blank">False 911 Gun Reporting </a>of John Crawford III</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z0j-7L094d0" target="_blank">Choking </a>of Eric Garner</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yIlSqk_pfbA" target="_blank">False Imprisonment</a> of Kalief Browder</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The <a href="https://www.theroot.com/an-incomplete-list-of-things-black-people-should-avoid-1824032408" target="_blank">___________ </a>of ________________</span></li>
</ul>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> <span style="font-size: x-small;">(Insert Crime)</span> <span style="font-size: x-small;">(Black Person)</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I could go on and on--but if your attention span is anything like mine, I'll digress.<br />Do you know any of the names of the perpetrators above? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Why not? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Why is Simpson's name a household topic but men like, <span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.crmvet.org/docs/sv/sv631209.pdf" target="_blank">Sheriff Earle Partridge</a> </span>who, "lifted up Fannie Lou Hamer's skirt above her head and forced two prisoners to beat her till they got tired." live in relative obscurity? </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Why are white women like <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2017/01/27/us/emmett-till-lynching-carolyn-bryant-donham.html">Carolyn Bryant Donham</a>, living a quiet, undisturbed life after falsely accusing Emmett Till of whistling at her--ultimately causing his demise? <br /><br /></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">THAT SHIT STOPS TODAY. </span></div>
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<br /> By the power invested in my fingertips, google.com, Ancestry Database, ProQuest newspaper archives and a cushy museum job at NMAAHC, I colloquially dub this series: "WHITE PEOPLE GETTING AWAY WITH MURDER" #WPGAWM<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">
Stay tuned for the next Topic </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
WPGAWM: The Beating of Fannie Lou Hamer</div>
</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15407329310662403231noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4625590351975401505.post-85930874267081575022018-06-18T15:11:00.000-07:002018-08-01T13:57:49.912-07:00Happy Fathers Day<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxIdqTMMKEOykH0_HLFINsXNoiN5ui0I96wDGXWCyMRb1Clga5A3gf7PfM6sayNDTZvsc8SG-A_PYx77VL-d1t4abRDjqI9SLJNSVcgm3bFbYoPtRmWHzQ2WXLK7rAEFxzPgd7nz9sJXo/s1600/14494736_10207159379598582_7822521826410616043_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="693" data-original-width="869" height="255" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxIdqTMMKEOykH0_HLFINsXNoiN5ui0I96wDGXWCyMRb1Clga5A3gf7PfM6sayNDTZvsc8SG-A_PYx77VL-d1t4abRDjqI9SLJNSVcgm3bFbYoPtRmWHzQ2WXLK7rAEFxzPgd7nz9sJXo/s320/14494736_10207159379598582_7822521826410616043_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">R: Milton Clarke (Father) | L: Ezell Clarke (Grandma)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>I'll never know what a Father's love is like.</b> I will never experience the love and comfort of a fatherly relationship, and I'm OK with that. I have to be. I am 32 years old going on 33. My mother reared me on her own--a semi-choice.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">My parents first met in Jamaica and fate led them to meet up again 10 years later in the Bronx and *boom* I was born in '86. I never got the chance to meet him due to the extenuating circumstances under which I was conceived, and in 1993 that fate was sealed when a gunman murdered my father.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbHJFkZdBXF1Szy8BK6lf9TXFHlL2qe73blnMjCKEm_9Q6WS9MeLdNkGJyhI4dhTPlLiMO71jjeGOQeY-acwwlhU7H13iXJE-1j85q_5SdwDTmhgV_xok1mtmCFEeAnQ5zG-sxVfR_AwU/s1600/clipping_21072986.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1600" height="178" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbHJFkZdBXF1Szy8BK6lf9TXFHlL2qe73blnMjCKEm_9Q6WS9MeLdNkGJyhI4dhTPlLiMO71jjeGOQeY-acwwlhU7H13iXJE-1j85q_5SdwDTmhgV_xok1mtmCFEeAnQ5zG-sxVfR_AwU/s400/clipping_21072986.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">My mother shared the story with me about how she did not know he was married when I was conceived. She was deeply in love with him. When she discovered he was still married, she was heartbroken. I had been told for many years she chose to move to Florida for better education opportunities for her children--a stretching of the truth. She moved out of heartbreak. She had to get away and sort of "punish" my father for his betrayal. She wasn't even sure if she wanted to keep me, being a single mother in the 80's was still an unpopular circumstance. I am glad she made the right choice for her.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Everyday she reminded me of how much I looked like this man named, "Milton" having never met him, I attributed this to a comical anecdote. I spoke to Milton once on the phone when I was 6. I don't even remember what his voice sounded like or if I understood what a father was. I just remember he said he would be sending me a package for my birthday--then he died. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I'll never know what a Father's love is like. I'll have to be OK with that. Im nearly 33 now, it's too late to lament or type a sad sob story--"boohoo". Don't feel sorry for me. <i>I'm Gucci my nigga!</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Due to my experience, the concept of fatherhood is a distant phenomenon I can't even fathom. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I didn't know how to spell my real last name until I was 6. When I was 4 my mother dated a man who assumed the role of my father--a terrible circumstance. He was also married--and he also died. (Divine Coincidence?)</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpJuZFzMhgqxT5oUE0zZvgbKWnaOb1rqzvx2I0UNaQNCCsNafLnqTHESG1cW_OP3TzBJcrOGN075Jzzhprl5xU8JXYDFDXRfbcLoMIpcymI15eI2yEn4lVSJfAdh4U0yRzv2_CPjeJq8s/s1600/206418_1016952579818_6053_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="426" data-original-width="604" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpJuZFzMhgqxT5oUE0zZvgbKWnaOb1rqzvx2I0UNaQNCCsNafLnqTHESG1cW_OP3TzBJcrOGN075Jzzhprl5xU8JXYDFDXRfbcLoMIpcymI15eI2yEn4lVSJfAdh4U0yRzv2_CPjeJq8s/s320/206418_1016952579818_6053_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I didn't miss not having a father, it was my baseline. I didn't even say "Aha! Finally I'll have a daddy" after my mom remarried a man when I was ten years old. He was just "That church elder who bagged a woman 17 years his junior". He didn't even <b>TRY </b>to be my dad. Which was cool cause I didn't want some "crusty old man" telling me what to do. BUT, according to my mother, I still had to address him as some form of "Dad". I chose "Pa" cause that seemed like the most distant word from fatherhood I could fathom. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I didn't know what having a father was like but I knew "Pa" was NOT it. I'm not bitter or sad about it. He wasn't a terrible person or mean or wicked. He just wasn't emotionally available to me. Some step-parents just don't have that kind of capacity. Because of his age it was like he had used up all his "fatherly points" 40 years ago and...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Did. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Not. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Care. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">One bit. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">No, I didn't miss having a daddy until I got my heart broken in my 20s. That's when the correlation upended in my mind. Having a father or father figure is crucial to a young girl's development. </span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Happy Father's Day</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">(Sorry this is belated, Im kinda bad at this Father's Day thing cause..well...you know.) </span></div>
Kasshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10893651618226891305noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4625590351975401505.post-33280115816812435512016-09-21T10:40:00.000-07:002016-09-21T10:40:05.471-07:00A Recipe for PissedOffvity <div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>I’m</b> sitting on the Metro…Watching white men in good health, wearing cotton
navy blue suits laden with pin stripes and the blood sweat and tears of my
ancestors--discuss business deals using generational wealth. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
White Men, <i>manspread</i> in every
corner of the fucking earth claiming whatever land they land on. Legs <i>white
</i>open encroaching on <b>black </b>territory. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Pop. Boom. Another nigger dead. And not one white tear shed. Yet white
tears doth floweth amid eyes that rolleth; "I'm not responsible for what my
ancestors did--why don't you just get over it?!" <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I contemplate, how the fuck is this just?<o:p></o:p></div>
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Then, I get mad. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Not because every single colored thing that white people have ever
touched has resulted in genocide, rape and disgust. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I’m mad because, I’m afraid to raise black babies in my black womb. To
later on have to raise and lower black babies in white tomb. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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I’m mad as hell. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Because our boys are seen as men, and our men are seen as thugs. Our
black girls and black women are seen as walking sex-jugs for the appropriation
by Kardashian thugs. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I’m pissed off. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Because they call our homeland corrupt as they hide their slave wealth
in foreign bank accounts. They bleed and rape our lands till there’s nothing
left but black dust. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I’m about to go off...<o:p></o:p></div>
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After years of being double conscious, suffering whitewashing &
white assimilation, European beauty standards forced upon us--we’re told “Don’t
dye your hair blonde” “Don’t wear dreadlocks” </div>
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<br /></div>
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“Your booty is too much” <o:p></o:p></div>
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What. In thee. Entire. Fuck? <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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They...</div>
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Shoot now, ask questions later. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Take now, ask resources later. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Lock up now, justice later. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Its known that...</div>
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Cocaine is white good. Crack is black bad.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Angel’s Food Cake = White<o:p></o:p></div>
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Devil’s Food Cake = Black<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Subliminal Messages = Unconscious Biases. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Intentional Oppression mixed with Fortuitous Emancipation.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Add two drops of rage and shake together make for a…<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">GREAT
AMERICA! </span>Kasshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10893651618226891305noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4625590351975401505.post-1817975131195559582016-02-10T17:31:00.001-08:002016-02-10T17:34:42.710-08:00Florida State University Rape Survivor Speaks OutHelp me make a difference by donating to the DC Rape Crisis Center here:<br />
<a href="http://gofundme.com/kassdc" target="_blank">gofundme.com/kassdc</a><br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="344" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/6CxBtO-gUEo" width="459"></iframe><br />
<br />
By Crime Watch Daily<br />
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"It was Halloween, so a lot of students were out getting ready for parties that night," said Kassie Edwards. "So there weren't too many people. There was nobody on that floor actually when I walked in. So the lights came on and I noticed a man in a hoodie and he walked past me, and then I walked to the shelf where I started shelving books.<br />
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"He came back down my aisle, that's when he put his arm around my neck and he raped me," said Edwards. "I was going to scream but he put his hand over my mouth. He said 'Don't say nothing' and then he pointed to his waist pocket as if he had a gun.<br />
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"He made me count backwards from 100 and he told me not to say anything to anybody, and then he took my ID badge and then he left," said Edwards.<br />
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She had been savagely attacked for almost 30 excruciating minutes in a deserted library corridor. That experience became even more terrifying once Edwards reported it to police and found out who raped her.<br />
Check your state here: <a href="http://www.endthebacklog.org/backlog/where-backlog-exists">Where the Backlog Exists</a>.<br />
If you or someone you know has been sexually assaulted, visit the<a href="https://rainn.org/">Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network</a>, or call the RAINN National Sexual Assault Hotline 1-800-656-HOPE (4673).<br />
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"I was able to obtain warrants for him for sexual battery with a firearm," said<a href="http://www.leoncountyso.com/">Leon County Sheriff's</a> Sgt. Wiley Meggs.<br />
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Cops say Edwards's bravery helped them track down her attacker. Though<a href="http://crimewatchdaily.com/2015/12/14/cwd-investigates-alarming-backlog-of-rape-kits-never-tested/">rape kits across the nation often sit idle</a>, DNA from hers was tested quickly and the results ultimately led to a dangerous assailant who had victimized others.<br />
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<br />
Haywood Henry was more of a monster than they ever imagined.<br />
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"He murdered his girlfriend," said Edwards.<br />
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"She was shot in the back of the head with a sawed-off shotgun," said Sgt. Meggs.<br />
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The victim, Mileah Lindsey, was Henry's girlfriend. She was found dead by her young child in the home she shared with Henry.<br />
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Henry was only 19 at the time, but as the police investigation revealed, he's done a lot of damage in his young life as a serial rapist.<br />
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"Hayward Henry was very angry, very violent, he was always armed when he went out," said Sgt. Meggs. "One lady that he raped he beat so brutally she was almost unrecognizable."<br />
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One underage victim told police that Henry actually showed remorse while assaulting her.<br />
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"She began to cry and told him that she had been raped prior and did not want to have to live through that kind of experience again, so he apologized and stopped," said Meggs.<br />
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"I would have periods where I relived what happened to me over and over again, and it felt like it was fresh new trauma," said Edwards.<br />
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Until he was caught.<br />
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"He had broken into another house in the neighborhood and was hiding in a closet," said Sgt. Meggs. "The SWAT team went in, surrounded the house and went inside and eventually located him inside the refrigerator of the home."<br />
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Police later learned that Henry was wearing his victim's clothing while he was hiding out.<br />
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"It was never determined if he was in fact a cross-dresser or if he was just doing this to elude capture by law enforcement by posing as a woman," said Meggs.<br />
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But they do know that Henry had serious issues with women, evident not only by his rap sheet, but by the female officers who tried to interview him after he was arrested.<br />
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"He got up out of the interview chair and got in a corner and pulled into the fetal position and would not look at the female officers while conducting the interview," said Sgt. Meggs.<br />
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Hayward Henry was eventually convicted of murder and seven sexual assaults and is now serving life in prison with no chance for parole.<br />
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But before he was sent to prison, Edwards believed she'd always be living in fear, serving her own life sentence too.<br />
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"Rapists don't rape one time. They've done it before and will do it again if they get away with it, so it's kind of empowering to get somebody locked up and put away for something they did to you," said Edwards.<br />
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She's now become a champion for change to get more support for victims and for funding rape kits like the one that helped catch her assailant.<br />
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"I think it's absolutely a disgrace that these rape kits are not tested. I think it should be a priority so that we can get these backlogs of rape kits tested and that we can match them to criminals," said Kassie Edwards. "We need to get those people locked up."<br />
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According to <a href="http://www.endthebacklog.org/backlog/where-backlog-exists">End the Backlog</a>, a non-profit organization fighting to fix the problem, the state of Florida has more than 13,000 rape kits that are backlogged right now. States like California and Colorado have more than 6,000 kits that still need to be tested.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15407329310662403231noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4625590351975401505.post-71170793401051967442016-02-08T08:29:00.003-08:002016-02-08T09:58:50.766-08:00"I Dont See Color!" Said the White Blind Man to His Black Deaf Wife<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht6dvDnnv29UcfTbVt1HKPkEhZiSzDGy2xyvpNHLJgYxGGa2dCwGnUTeRzCo4EnZovpd5DGyxQxx_RiKbYpSLqQ8WJN3oBiysOhX813Untl6_JLPonn26JD0opuE_Yq3kguoA1Py_RRek/s1600/jane-elliots-quotes-6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht6dvDnnv29UcfTbVt1HKPkEhZiSzDGy2xyvpNHLJgYxGGa2dCwGnUTeRzCo4EnZovpd5DGyxQxx_RiKbYpSLqQ8WJN3oBiysOhX813Untl6_JLPonn26JD0opuE_Yq3kguoA1Py_RRek/s320/jane-elliots-quotes-6.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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"I dont see color"</div>
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"Black Lives Matter? How about ALL lives matter?"</div>
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"Why is there a black history month or BET?"</div>
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"Why is there so much division?"</div>
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**BULLSHIT**</div>
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Lets analyze these common statements from some ignorant people of non-color with "seemingly" good hippy intentions of inclusion and LOVE.</div>
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Look people, we know you are well intended with your euphoric, butterfly language of love and union and holding hands and kumbaya n shit, but Im gonna be curt.</div>
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You do see color. We ALL see color. </div>
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The only person who can claim to <i>not </i>see color is a blind man and even then colors can be explained as emotions or feelings.</div>
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Lets get one thing straight. I want EVERYONE to see color. Being black is apart of who who I am. It shapes and molds a person culturally and socially. Being black is an indication of the kind of treatment I will get from another person. My struggles have made me the woman you see today. My triumphs and nappy hair are apart of my blackness and therefore apart of me. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPkpnZIV1gFRsw5Da4ZEMTCnRdRgYN4DCdAGYQJ7wbdLojjumq9KZjN722qVod5COBRBimE-ld6lA8hzA73-Kzlc8hKR6FFtO0uralsY3Y1WdoDojAYA8oTqXYZ0wwzshc2ryCTkzAGPY/s1600/5907524004_d452bf500a_z.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPkpnZIV1gFRsw5Da4ZEMTCnRdRgYN4DCdAGYQJ7wbdLojjumq9KZjN722qVod5COBRBimE-ld6lA8hzA73-Kzlc8hKR6FFtO0uralsY3Y1WdoDojAYA8oTqXYZ0wwzshc2ryCTkzAGPY/s200/5907524004_d452bf500a_z.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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"Seeing no color" is a myth. Differences is what makes us a unique mix. You wouldn't puree a salad and serve it to someone would you? Why? Because each component adds a special flavor, texture, and shape. Their differences make the salad tasty. </div>
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But Kassie "We're all the same on the inside..." </div>
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*BS*</div>
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No we're not, and if you told a Med School student we're all the same on the inside it would be *cringeworthy* Stand a male and a female next to each other. Cut them open. </div>
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A man has a penis--I do not. </div>
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A woman has a vagina--a man does not. </div>
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Women have estrogen and breast.</div>
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Men have testosterone and facial hair.</div>
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These are things that make up apart of who we are. Emotionally women are nurturers and men are protectors and providers this is how God (and/or Mother Nature for the non-believers) made us. </div>
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Why aren't we going around calling men and women the same--oh wait "we are" in the feminist movement (misnomer). Actually feminism is a movement to create the same OPPORTUNITIES for both sexes <b>not </b>a claim that men and women are physiologically the same. So if a woman wants to be a construction worker/soldier in battle/miner/ceo/main breadwinner she should have that right to do so and get paid the same (but let's save that for another blog post). The point is my color, your lack thereof, his ethnicity, her culture, his creed all these differences make for an interesting mix.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzhjDcNvIARRz18j5E9zu1zDnTmEcy_fitwObNla0KLLpWiQhVOKTJPc-jQahcG6deaa4olUW4fdb2D_vk7ScTPyUWbdj4OoHaJnQJHW7q6b0igu6l09jEpJvmeQtoA1ndv0bdqCvYYXY/s1600/salad-2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzhjDcNvIARRz18j5E9zu1zDnTmEcy_fitwObNla0KLLpWiQhVOKTJPc-jQahcG6deaa4olUW4fdb2D_vk7ScTPyUWbdj4OoHaJnQJHW7q6b0igu6l09jEpJvmeQtoA1ndv0bdqCvYYXY/s200/salad-2.png" width="182" /></a></div>
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Lets not put my color in a blender to dissolve in some bland confused melting pot of culture. Let my color keep its flavor and shape and then add it to the other cultures in the pot to create a salad amalgamation of America.</div>
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A better statement: </div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="color: #3f4549; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 21px;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">"I see your color but I don't care"</span></b></span></blockquote>
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My last point is that even if you <i>think</i> you don't see color. Subconsciously--You DO! Its called <b>implicit bias.</b> Just below the surface of your conscious mind, you are making preferences, micro-judgements and decisions based on stereotypes, sensationalist media and your misguided perception. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi38kB3FOt6gQdd4IEhiGRFrsmXH38P4DkMHB7qSssjx0x_9UQqlmF6eKZlzmLr69B-dGm2uDucaESIpNMXoiP6t1H7uGiS0tMNi5DCXCp4kPkBCw-4zePvx5hsz8rMT2QgCuTkCBAHt1M/s1600/snoop-martha-stewart-sterotype.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi38kB3FOt6gQdd4IEhiGRFrsmXH38P4DkMHB7qSssjx0x_9UQqlmF6eKZlzmLr69B-dGm2uDucaESIpNMXoiP6t1H7uGiS0tMNi5DCXCp4kPkBCw-4zePvx5hsz8rMT2QgCuTkCBAHt1M/s200/snoop-martha-stewart-sterotype.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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Something like 60% of Americans are biased towards white people. That means 60% of black and white people have a preference towards white people and subconsciously think black people are untrustworthy. Don't believe me just watch! <a href="https://implicit.harvard.edu/implicit/selectatest.html" target="_blank">Take the test, click here!</a><br />
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Even on a global scale color matters. Why? Because European Colonialist went around the world conquering black, yellow, brown nations and telling them their color is a problem and you shouldnt own this land because we the white imperialists can do a better job than your savage, primitive, dark complected tribe. </div>
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Australia.</div>
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India.</div>
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West Indies.</div>
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Native Americans.</div>
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Africa.</div>
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SE Asia.</div>
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South America.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixlywMsOxW2Y-UV2sbPhix6XAHjlXpLBTQPVY_Nke3v3JboOxy_sWdUc6HOiyKoGi2PxhRCBUVPLzYL0yg4qs_AYcUCAhASFtIh7UIhjcaov3845GqmJjI1wlED62XdJDpWfSO03JIzrE/s1600/imp1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixlywMsOxW2Y-UV2sbPhix6XAHjlXpLBTQPVY_Nke3v3JboOxy_sWdUc6HOiyKoGi2PxhRCBUVPLzYL0yg4qs_AYcUCAhASFtIh7UIhjcaov3845GqmJjI1wlED62XdJDpWfSO03JIzrE/s200/imp1.jpg" width="184" /></a></div>
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And now 400 years later their offspring all of a sudden DONT want to see color? Nah homie, its gonna take more than 40 years of integration and tolerance to reverse what white european mass murderers like;</div>
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<ul>
<li>King Leopold II (10 Million Congolese) and </li>
<li>Christopher Columbus (49 Million American Indians) and </li>
<li>Vasco Núñez de Balboa (2 Million indigenous central americans), </li>
<li>German General Lothar von Trotha (110,000 Herero and Nama Africans), </li>
<li>Hitler (11 million Jewish people, Gypsies, and Differently Abled people), </li>
<li>European Slave Traders/Owners (11 Million Africans during the Middle Passage). </li>
<li>Honorable mentions: Australian Aboriginals, Armenians, Rwandan Genocide...(probably another 2 Million)</li>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSH-rFMqJ9QshgQCsTWLYbcxulM8kCuS_ypfrHJOaNbgTmw6Cq5la-ISUA5uNSG1fZw0szxh385fng2njzjxWhwSN61pSTBfJC_Qn2-_LK5ivtDTM1VSkda_0Gunv8jAekimKEZYUkwbk/s1600/GENOCIDE+IN+AFRICA+2011.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSH-rFMqJ9QshgQCsTWLYbcxulM8kCuS_ypfrHJOaNbgTmw6Cq5la-ISUA5uNSG1fZw0szxh385fng2njzjxWhwSN61pSTBfJC_Qn2-_LK5ivtDTM1VSkda_0Gunv8jAekimKEZYUkwbk/s400/GENOCIDE+IN+AFRICA+2011.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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OMG I could go on and on and on....but I won't because this shit is depressing and I got things to do today. And for all the people who have died to get me here--you WILL see my color and one day it WONT matter and you'll make no judgements or pre decisions or faulty conclusions because of it. But one day we all will see the power and the triumphant blessings of being black.</div>
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<b style="color: #3f4549; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', arial, sans-serif; line-height: 21px;"><span style="font-size: large;">"I see your color but I don't care"</span></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ21o5pRW9-rg21P12ECp0P5FfH7MS1eUZS8UbSD4qObwK_UT_cXgYNDD4DbAmjeahyHpOtoRBqLv5epX5hktXzMHyUThl4BKhrn_HFeFtGdg5p9pMsi029vz7TMHC0IPKLVTbOgtzFDA/s1600/quote-when-you-say-to-a-person-of-colour-when-i-see-you-i-don-t-see-you-black-i-just-see-everybody-jane-elliott-122-3-0352.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="188" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ21o5pRW9-rg21P12ECp0P5FfH7MS1eUZS8UbSD4qObwK_UT_cXgYNDD4DbAmjeahyHpOtoRBqLv5epX5hktXzMHyUThl4BKhrn_HFeFtGdg5p9pMsi029vz7TMHC0IPKLVTbOgtzFDA/s400/quote-when-you-say-to-a-person-of-colour-when-i-see-you-i-don-t-see-you-black-i-just-see-everybody-jane-elliott-122-3-0352.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15407329310662403231noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4625590351975401505.post-89851195198643981052016-02-01T08:25:00.003-08:002016-02-01T12:06:14.202-08:00"OMG! I Think I'll Dress To Attract a White Boy" (Said no black woman EVER)<b><span style="font-size: large;">I</span> </b>was having a discussion with a white gentleman (if I can even call him that) about interracial dating (is that even a real phenomenon since race "doesn't exist"?). He said to me, and I quote; "Well, maybe if they'd stop wearing those long fingernails--I mean how can they get any work done? We don't like that...and the weave too."<br />
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*PAUSE* <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnyjXO6j6OTDA9GQz6xOcVcribKBgH7vZYWI6FjvEc5OCcv7Q4r9amaolSvJ3o5usnuc50gfQBYNDuDCZ4R_XNNvFi0gW2-PB0BKa22CS64v17G1EZTaWaXME_vFuKJSayfm3jAQCf60c/s1600/screen-shot-2013-05-17-at-9-32-36-pm.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="140" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnyjXO6j6OTDA9GQz6xOcVcribKBgH7vZYWI6FjvEc5OCcv7Q4r9amaolSvJ3o5usnuc50gfQBYNDuDCZ4R_XNNvFi0gW2-PB0BKa22CS64v17G1EZTaWaXME_vFuKJSayfm3jAQCf60c/s200/screen-shot-2013-05-17-at-9-32-36-pm.png" width="200" /></a></div>
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*PAUSE*<br />
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There just sooo much for me to unpack here.<br />
I just can't. So I won't. Nah. I will. I said: "What makes you think women are saying to themselves, you know, I think I want to scoop me up a little Johnny, so I won't get my nails bedazzled this time Sui Ying, just give me the natural-catch-a-white-boy set..."<br />
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SECONDLY: "I thought we were discussing BLACK WOMEN not some stereotypical fantasy media served buffoonery you've secretly fetishized in your head--No just no." <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtiFemt38VDANkXcuymyXykvMqWM9jnboXK2cn7V1R1DLXqrSwnUn9eh_ayGxqIPgLvSfSj6kEvnVi6b6SeqvcV8EZU8FBX_vLPSQN35PdRIbPjqoqJreg0Jb9btPAHVboycvD93wm1jA/s1600/coonbusters+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtiFemt38VDANkXcuymyXykvMqWM9jnboXK2cn7V1R1DLXqrSwnUn9eh_ayGxqIPgLvSfSj6kEvnVi6b6SeqvcV8EZU8FBX_vLPSQN35PdRIbPjqoqJreg0Jb9btPAHVboycvD93wm1jA/s200/coonbusters+copy.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
LASTLY: "And even if a singular black woman chose to have long Godzilla nails (and I know a few who do) so the fuck what? Aint nobody waking up in the morning and saying 'OMG! I think I'll dress to attract a white boy today'!" #GiveMeABreak<br />
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And so it goes--the sentiments in this country regarding black women. We're loud, attitudinal, long fingernails and colorful weave. Wait, when Becky does it she's "alternative" when Sharkeisha does it, it's "ghetto". Are these the stereotypes that are holding us back from interracial dating? Then fine. So be it.<br />
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It's not even just a problem beladen on the shoulders of black women--its women of every ethnicity in this country--its as if women are on display for the sole gratification of men. I get it you like what you like. BUT, Its the stereotypes that have been fed to you, that you actually bought into without investigating for yourself that disturbs me. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTrl2CrcU8uL2sh-GOh3XFSC9fYD2TmpFhJO9roPYOey5o3UgIlF9RmYey0-19ilvGeGeCXn4F6H-UPPDok7_Fjpa08pfoJpT5VHFjGXAwrUU74s3iTfDiWZuBZP1zp-RtM84SEPAo_fU/s1600/Condoleeza_rice_small_penis_gesture.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="171" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTrl2CrcU8uL2sh-GOh3XFSC9fYD2TmpFhJO9roPYOey5o3UgIlF9RmYey0-19ilvGeGeCXn4F6H-UPPDok7_Fjpa08pfoJpT5VHFjGXAwrUU74s3iTfDiWZuBZP1zp-RtM84SEPAo_fU/s200/Condoleeza_rice_small_penis_gesture.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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Don't worry we have our stereotypes about you as well--and some of us have investigated and found it to be true ;-) But I'm not here to go tit-for-tat.<br />
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Let's analyze my theory for why there isn't more interracial dating. More than anything subculture is a means that divides us--in good and bad ways. Its called a <b>Double Consciousness</b>. Double Consciousness is a term coined by W. E. B. Du Bois to describe an individual whose identity is divided into several facets. As a theoretical tool, “double consciousness” reveals the psycho-social divisions in American society and allows for a full understanding of those divisions. (<a href="http://scua.library.umass.edu/duboisopedia/doku.php?id=about:double_consciousness" target="_blank">DuBois, Souls of Black Folks</a>) <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc6fdAb6F0DxNzTtYrDAG15Dxaz3vwqAuftH75_p_ltOPzHV1ny7DaQx_MybFWtU_U85aP-g-j-9QHXEbNEnyY8X7nSssxTaCcMgpWthTsaIIZLMQ6fercaPWtU0-i4w6vEZZFZVwXAtc/s1600/du-bois-dialectic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="170" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc6fdAb6F0DxNzTtYrDAG15Dxaz3vwqAuftH75_p_ltOPzHV1ny7DaQx_MybFWtU_U85aP-g-j-9QHXEbNEnyY8X7nSssxTaCcMgpWthTsaIIZLMQ6fercaPWtU0-i4w6vEZZFZVwXAtc/s200/du-bois-dialectic.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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For a long period of time black people were not allowed to fully participate in mainstream American culture. Slave masters deprived Africans of their cultural customs by enacting slave codes. Therefore they had to navigate in unfamiliar territory by cultivating this new culture. Black Culture.<br />
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The assorted stereotypes of being "loud", good at dancing, fixing elaborate hairstyles, being lyrical, good cooks, etc. These are all <b>Africanisms</b>, characteristics of African culture that can be traced through societal practices and institutions of the African diaspora. Of course they are exaggerated for the entertainment of people who are not apart of the movement. That's why it's called a <i>STEREO</i>-type. The <i>type </i>has some truth but the <i>stereo </i>exaggerates and warps the truth into a tacky version of its former self.<br />
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Instead of balking at colorful weaves and its apparent "tackiness", we should be trying to understand the history. African women have been weaving and locking their hair as part of a cultural custom.<br />
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Another white wonderment; Why do some black people have a slight propensity at being lyrical artists? In many African societies there was no formal written language (actually up until 770BC Europe also did not have a written language until the Romans borrowed from the Phoenicians and the Phoenicians from AFRICAN Hieroglyphics) West African cultures used <b>Griots </b>to pass down oral history. Stories and rituals were beaten on drums in special synchronizations with body movements. Hence our seemingly natural love of beats and freestyling. <br />
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I'm being very loose and anecdotal here but do you get my drift? Of course, these stereotypes and Africanisms do not apply to EVERY single black person. Every black person is not going to be a good, beat boxing, dancing, rapping, shuckin n jivin negro. These are cultural mannerisms and customs passed down from generation to generation. This is why there is a serious need for cross cultural education. In school we learn so much about European culture and customs (which by the way are derived from Africa) that when it comes to Africanisms they seem foreign to us.<br />
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Some stereotypes exist because of appalling reasons. For instance, the alleged propensity for black men to be good at sports. Theory has it that slave masters made enslaved African women breed with the strongest men in an attempt to yield the strongest "buck". <br />
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OK lets get it out the way. The Mandingo theory. Yes its true--somewhat--by .1 inches -_- according to a Kinsey Report in the 1970s which included only 54 black men and 3000 white men in the USA.<br />
However, according to one Global report produced by <a href="http://www.everyoneweb.com/worldpenissize" target="_blank">EveryoneWeb</a> the Democratic Republic of Congo has the largest average erect length at 7.1 inches compared to the world average of 5.5 inches.<br />
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I hope I have inspired someone to expand their curiosity outside the box of their limited scope. #LetItMarinate Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15407329310662403231noreply@blogger.com0United States37.09024 -95.712891000000013-36.4186355 99.052733999999987 90 69.521483999999987tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4625590351975401505.post-73575059524251024702015-08-30T20:10:00.002-07:002015-08-30T20:45:17.152-07:00Mammaries Over Brilliance<b><span style="font-size: large;">I</span></b> am not the material edifice that contours and clings to my curvaceous body.<br />
I am a woman.<br />
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I am not the coil-y kinky strings of keratin and amino acids that erupt from newly discovered follicles of conceptual bondage.<br />
I am a woman bleeding.<br />
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I am not the leather red embossed orifice that shelters tired toes and rises not on
political platforms but in wooden trod and envious nods.<br />
I am a woman with a bleeding heart.<br />
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I am not the golden time keeper that mocks me with promises of success on the impeccable measure of continued progress on existence of events to come.<br />
I am a woman.<br />
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I am not the coke bottle frame of round fleshy parts that form the lower rear area of trunks meant to rear the next generation.
I am a scholar.
I am not components of two soft, protruding organs on the upper front of a body that secretes manna for the gift of creation.<br />
I am a child of God.<br />
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<img border="0" src="http://kswebdesigner.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/09/chicken-breast.jpg" height="200" width="200" /><br />
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I am not a sex kitten strutting and slaying for the edification and gratification of grubby ogling lonely dogs wanting to catch a bone in the dog pound.<br />
I am a Lioness of Judah.<br />
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Im not here for the sadistic viewing pleasure of carnality society hell bent on hedonistic autoeroticism.<br />
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<div style="text-align: left;">
Im here to serve. <i>Him</i>. Not you. </div>
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But every damn day I gotta dodge and swerve, the misogynistic quips that bite and nips at the bane of my intelligence.<br />
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I slay.<br />
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Chop it up and make them wince, turn all that is super(callafragalistic)-fiscial into espealladocious. Mince Meat. Delicioso!<br />
But that doesn’t mean ish.<br />
Because as long as I am woman. I am not legit.<br />
As long as I am an object. My character doesn’t mean ish.
As long as I am a fetishized. Who cares about my accomplishments?<br />
Just as long as my hair is laid and my clothes are tight. I might could be somebody’s wife. Doesn’t matter if my character is flawed. When man makes all the laws. To being sexy we applaud.<br />
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<b>Man Law: </b></div>
<i>I pledge allegiance to the vagina of the united women in misogyny and to the folds of my dick to which it divides. One Man. Woman Underneath. In the kitchen fuck liberty and individuality for all.
</i>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15407329310662403231noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4625590351975401505.post-11939488275518678562015-08-19T13:03:00.000-07:002015-08-19T13:14:46.177-07:00Modesty: A Subjective Model of Piety<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">E</span></b>veryday I am reminded that I have <b>breasts </b>and a <b>vagina</b>. As if not being able to find an oxford shirt that buttons up appropriately isn't a stark enough reminder. I have to endure the ogles, the stare downs, the cat calls, the lip licking and winking of the many men on the street who think I am a female on display for the sole purpose of pleasuring man. As if I am in some sort of eye candy fashion business I am told; "Smile honey, more men would approach you..." </div>
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Yet, the very idea of smiling to strange men on the streets elicits the horror of more unwelcomed attention. "Well, hunnie when you dress like that you are asking for it...". Today I am going to analyze this very thought. The thought that because I choose to wear a hip hugging (or short skirt or sweat pants or Mu-Mu) outfit I am asking for invitations from strange men to comment about my body.</div>
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<i>Modesty: A Subjective Model of Piety</i></div>
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Let's get one thing straight. Modesty is subjective. What was immodest in 1815 is now the standard in 2015. </div>
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<img border="0" src="http://www.fashion-era.com/images/RegencyRom/1818%20BLUE%20REGENCYDRESS.jpg" height="200" width="84" /></div>
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For instance in the <b>1811 </b>book, <i>Mirror of Graces</i>, the author ("a Lady of Distinction") advised: "In the morning the arms and bosom must be completely covered to the throat and wrists. From the dinner-hour to the termination of the day, the arms, to a graceful height above the elbow, may be bare; and the neck and shoulders unveiled as far as delicacy will allow."</div>
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Full floor length skirts were a must and according to Cornell University Professor, Charlotte Jirousek; "women were pushed back into a more modest role, befitting the "weaker" sex, often described as delicate, fragile, and decorative" (Kind of like today's ideology). </div>
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<a href="http://sensibility.com/vintageimages/1900s/images/1916dressesb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://sensibility.com/vintageimages/1900s/images/1916dressesb.jpg" height="200" width="146" /></a></div>
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According to fashion blogger, Delores Monet, In <b>1915</b>, hemlines rose to mid-calf and traditionalists complained of immodesty. By <b>1918</b>, skirts grew narrow again and hemlines fell to below the calf. WWI allowed women greater freedoms in apparel. By participating in wartime activities women had a new fashion trend, "Sportswear" which allowed romper-like bathing suits and skirts over pants to be worn for activities on the beach or skiing. </div>
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<a href="http://cdn2-b.examiner.com/sites/default/files/styles/image_content_width/hash/d9/cf/d9cf8ef1bff4d5fb80d6748132e58397.jpg?itok=CEnQFHyE" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://cdn2-b.examiner.com/sites/default/files/styles/image_content_width/hash/d9/cf/d9cf8ef1bff4d5fb80d6748132e58397.jpg?itok=CEnQFHyE" height="135" width="200" /></a></div>
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Fast foward to today, <b>2015</b>. Women wear short shorts, skirts, see-through dresses and low hemlines. Rihanna wore a <a href="http://i.perezhilton.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/06/rihanna-new-twitter-profile-photo-family-guy-peter-griffin-cfda-awards-dress-censored__oPt.jpg">mesh dress</a> on the red carpet, while most of us can agree this is immodest.<b> </b></div>
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<b>I'm pretty sure someone outside of our privileged </b><b>bubble of</b><b> western society who is not batting an eye.</b></div>
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Why?</div>
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<b>Because modesty is subjective.</b> </div>
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Who in the world would think being naked under a mesh dress isn't immodest?</div>
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<a href="http://i.ytimg.com/vi/W-C5lo6uYto/hqdefault.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://i.ytimg.com/vi/W-C5lo6uYto/hqdefault.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a></div>
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These woman, their people, this remote society and clan of African, Pacific Amazon ethnic groups are naked on a daily basis and no one bats an eye.</div>
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Why? Because women in these societies nakedness is not fetishsized. The more naked an ethnic group is the more moral and strict they are in matters of sexual intercourse. Modesty for these groups of people are laden in traditions of cleanliness, health, food and survival. </div>
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<a href="http://www.beforethey.com/media/images/Huaorani/hua-6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.beforethey.com/media/images/Huaorani/hua-6.jpg" height="160" width="200" /></a></div>
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Dr. Marylnn J. Horn says; "Complete nudity in itself is not erotic. It becomes so only when proceeded by or contrasted to a state of dress. In this limited context then, all clothes become somewhat immoral, if we define immorality as inciting sexual interest. Habitual nakedness may indeed be capable of elevating man to a higher mental plane..."</div>
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My daily struggle is that women are expected to be the ones to take actionable steps towards addressing the violating lustful thoughts ave urges of men. Society pegs and labels women as sex objects for the viewing and satiable pleasure of men. Men equate viewing the female body as sexual in nature. Hmm...I find it funny that women in remote ethnic societies like the Amazon, can run around the jungle with their breast and vaginas out yet no man it's ogling or cat calling or even bats an eye--think about it....<br />
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We live in this culture that fetishsizes the human body (especially women) therefore we must conform to its ideas of modesty so that we can be accepted and participate as a productive member in this society.</div>
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My point in pointing out these issues is so that we can recognize the hangups and incongruities we have on modesty and attempt to fix our mentality. </div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Do not let your adorning be external—the braiding of hair and the putting on of gold jewelry, or the clothing you wear— but let your adorning be the hidden person of the heart with the imperishable beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which in God's sight is very precious. -1 Peter 3:3-4</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I get that. I hear you Lord. As a Christian woman I am ever seeking oneness with Jesus in all aspects of my life. I would pray that my counterpart is doing the same. But all throughout my Adventist life Ive had a pious finger pointed at me. Telling me to cover up so I dont cause the "fall of man" or "incite lustful urges". </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: ;">But what about: </span></span></div>
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<i style="background-color: ;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">For all that is in the world—the desires of the flesh and the desires of the eyes and pride in possessions—is not from the Father but is from the world. -1 John 2:16</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: ;">What about men praying to quell their lustful urges? Why isn't our message geared equally--if not tilted more to self denial and control of men's minds? </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: ;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The modesty message that is unproportionately been geared towards women is not working. Every year fashion gets a little more hedonistic. You cannot control what women choose to wear, but you can thwart</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> the lust in your mind. You're going to have to deal with it.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: ; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Stop reinforcing the supposed immodest apparel with your actions and attention. There's an idea that christian men want a modest, makeup free, natural woman, buuut who are you giving your attention to? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i style="background-color: ;">Women are temptresses...seizing the opportunity seduce men</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: ;">Rarely is this true</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: ;">Some women, like me, are experiencing the curves of their changing bodies and don't know how to dress for their new bodies....</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Some women don't have money to buy new clothes....</span></div>
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Some women dont think its a big deal</div>
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Some women want to feel sexy....</div>
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Some like the attention...</div>
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Some come from families in which this style of dress is acceptable.</div>
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Some women do not want to conform. </div>
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Whatever the reason may be we need to take control of the only being we can posses--our minds. </div>
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I have 2 pieces of advice....</div>
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Ladies be more aware of your image and the culture of the people in your surrounding social life and mimic the greatness you want to be perceived as.</div>
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Men, focus your thoughts and come to the realization that you are a pawn in a sinful scheme of the distraction of man's hearts from God.</div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: ;">We may not want to conform but sometimes being an adult means doing things we don't like.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKHNcz1Bzf17BDY0wX33YMOb5LMUluTMATltGnCRG8XLI-pCPEY1DhHGHpwDxDihnolgfJtLbH4t-lJKYsvmb9UnlO5nMSw8s5d-A1UPaR1ztzgkmceHlLN-ZAZFwIR44vRR4CSngQXcA/s1600/1502296_10204659304018255_7351773686732137215_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKHNcz1Bzf17BDY0wX33YMOb5LMUluTMATltGnCRG8XLI-pCPEY1DhHGHpwDxDihnolgfJtLbH4t-lJKYsvmb9UnlO5nMSw8s5d-A1UPaR1ztzgkmceHlLN-ZAZFwIR44vRR4CSngQXcA/s320/1502296_10204659304018255_7351773686732137215_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Let it Marinate...</blockquote>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15407329310662403231noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4625590351975401505.post-85510911965735091672011-01-12T17:00:00.000-08:002011-01-30T20:13:42.042-08:00Decisions - A Poem Inspiried by EricsonAffluent escapades are teetering on the dominion of judgment day.<br /><br />A day that will supersede with a well-premeditated verdict dismay.<br /><br />An oxymoronic spectrum is set before the decision maker.<br /><br />With instructions, “You must choose the lesser of two evils.<br /><br />WTF?! The lesser of two evils is the sum of good upheavals.<br /><br />Walk off the proverbial cliff or drown in the sea of impending doom.<br /><br />One choice you are alive reaching for the skies, then BOOM!<br /><br />You’re gone, with not the funkiest idea of what went wrong.<br /><br /> Another destiny you are dancing to a malevolence song.<br /><br />The beat is thunderous and you are on your own.<br /><br />Its fiery trance entreaties your core, it won’t let go.<br /><br />Emblazoned memories flicker through your soul.<br /><br />They burn your thoughts and soon fatally you let go.<br /><br />So you see the decision isn’t easy.<br /><br />Sell your soul to the devil or let things go breezy.<br /><br />Whatever terminus you so deem appropriate for your ominous conduit.<br /><br />Make sure the sweat and work is valid; be it, don’t just do it.<br /><br />Cause sooner or later you’ll find an empty soul<br /><br />With No sustenance behind your decision, you’re just on cruise control.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15407329310662403231noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4625590351975401505.post-90135804708657122222010-11-27T12:14:00.000-08:002010-11-27T12:16:12.485-08:00Spray CHEATER on his parking spot....<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc3/hs383.snc3/23417_1260174460213_1105200002_30609167_602676_n.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 448px; height: 604px;" src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc3/hs383.snc3/23417_1260174460213_1105200002_30609167_602676_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />Maturity bellows and bends to the richly fined tune of SATISFACTION.<br /><br />Revenge runs through my red arteries, My Heart is skipping to a beat of REVELATION!<br /><br />A choice is to be made, act like a dignified poised lady.<br /><br />Don’t let him get the best of you baby.<br /><br />But damn it feels so good to get my tingling keys<br /><br />And scratch the words PUSSY ASS NIGGA until his Jaguar bleeds.<br /><br />Ooo this bleach feels soo good to touch expensive Burberry cloth.<br /><br />I'm feeling so uplifted my eyes smooth over and gloss.<br /><br />Splish splash, criss crash Svorski crystal makes a splintery trance.<br /><br />Another woman he has begot?<br /><br />Spray paint CHEATER on his parking spot.<br /><br />I BUST THE WINDOWS OUTCHYO MOTHAFUCKIN CAR.<br /><br />I bet you didn’t think I would take it this far.<br /><br />But honey chile let me tell u, you fucked with the RIGHT one today.<br /><br />And all I got to say is aint nuttin like a woman scorned.<br /><br />Fuck a heart belittled mashed and torn.<br /><br />Materialistically this shit don’t matter.<br /><br />Only the matters of my heart have fodder.<br /><br />Destruction is a girl’s best friend.<br /><br /> It doesn’t boil down to who emotionally had the win.<br /><br />It just matters that you broke the trust.<br /><br />And now your things must come to dust.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15407329310662403231noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4625590351975401505.post-27482003660335049382010-11-27T12:13:00.000-08:002010-11-27T12:14:00.787-08:00Aging Youthfully w. Tact n Grace...I think I mightve found my placeA faded pacifier looms in the heavy laden memories of a pastime. I can no long hold on to the pacifism that resides in the things oh so forlorn. When you grow up, you mature gracefully and leave behind the childish things only holding on to them in the subconscious...the conscious mind being a sublime meld of wisdom and grace. It’s easy to latch on to the comfortable inevitable. Inside you find a warm contented space. And for however long it holds your pace you stay grounded. Grounded in the morals that supported you from infancy. Its called being an adult . And just because you have garnered this title does not mean it holds true to your essence. Your quintessence will always remain adolescence. Just because the days, months weeks, years are greater than your youth does not mean you cast away the burden of being asinine every once in a while. It means gathering every ounce of Saturday morning cartoon and funking a phony beguile. Who are you kidding? You’re no grown up. I'm a big goofy grumpy giddy gilded bewildered kid. My tongue lashes out at the dusty particles of snow drops that Baby Bop once told me were gum drops and bewildered dreams. We’ve been tricked into adulthood or so it seems. For the raunchy conservative, its all too surreal. His scandalous nature is busting at the seams. But an oxymoron doesn’t satisfy what society deems. Appropriate is what the measure is a gleam. We must age with tact, poise and grace.<br /><br /> <br /><br />I wish I had a blunt and a forty. At least it didn’t have to hide being naughty. It was naught, in the flesh, iron wrought. Id puff my dream into wonderland. Meet the bunny of my dreams. And push kick till all the ponder of life supersedes. Alas! My trance must cist and decease. Back to the tortures of realities.<br /><br /> <br /><br /> <br /><br />Poetic KassAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15407329310662403231noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4625590351975401505.post-71652167438628089742010-10-13T22:25:00.000-07:002011-01-30T20:04:16.205-08:00Aging Youthfully w. Tact n Grace...I think I might've found my placeAging Youthfully w. Tact n Grace...I think I might've found my place<br /><br /><br />A faded pacifier looms in the heavy laden memories of a pastime. I can no long hold on to the pacifism that resides in the things oh so forlorn. When you grow up, you mature gracefully and leave behind the childish things only holding on to them in the subconscious...the conscious mind being a sublime meld of wisdom and grace. It’s easy to latch on to the comfortable inevitable. Inside you find a warm contented space. And for however long it holds your pace you stay grounded. Grounded in the morals that supported you from infancy. Its called being an adult . And just because you have garnered this title does not mean it holds true to your essence. Your quintessence will always remain adolescence. Just because the days, months weeks, years are greater than your youth does not mean you cast away the burden of being asinine every once in a while. It means gathering every ounce of Saturday morning cartoon and funking a phony beguile. Who are you kidding? You’re no grown up. I'm a big goofy grumpy giddy gilded bewildered kid. My tongue lashes out at the dusty particles of snow drops that Baby Bop once told me were gum drops and bewildered dreams. We’ve been tricked into adulthood or so it seems. For the raunchy conservative, its all too surreal. His scandalous nature is busting at the seams. But an oxymoron doesn’t satisfy what society deems. Appropriate is what the measure is a gleam. We must age with tact, poise and grace.<br /><br /> <br /><br />I wish I had a blunt and a forty. At least it didn’t have to hide being naughty. It was naught, in the flesh, iron wrought. Id puff my dream into wonderland. Meet the bunny of my dreams. And push kick till all the ponder of life supersedes. Alas! My trance must cist and decease. Back to the tortures of realities.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15407329310662403231noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4625590351975401505.post-88769755941523972972010-07-24T18:42:00.000-07:002010-11-27T13:02:07.520-08:00(____________)No thing.<br /><br />Blank.<br /><br /><br /><br />If you’re looking for something, then keep looking for nothing.<br /><br />Cause right now Mindless emptiness is flourishing. <br /><br />Redundant moronic empty embellishments reap the zilch that has been sowed.<br /><br />I have a job to poetically blow your legitimate mind or so I have been told.<br /><br />But like an impotent infertile man I keep shooting futile blanks.<br /><br />And Id like to introduce you for whom we have to thank.<br /><br />For this empty poetic deed. <br /><br />I’d like you to meet my hands. For reaching towards the universe and expanding my goals once Ive reached the edge of the milky way’s border.<br /><br />Reader, meet my mind; Progressively expounding on contemplation and the realization. THAT NOTHING EQUALS SOMETHING.<br /><br />Or so it goes in my world.<br /><br />I'm the girl with a thousand smiles who can take lemons, aged spoiled sugar cane, dirty mint leaves and make a sullied Mojito.<br /><br />I'm the gallivanting gal writhing in the flowers with the peacock feathers in her Fro.<br /><br />I can make something out of nothing.<br /><br />And if you don’t believe me, then this poem you shall not be receiving.<br /><br />Cause seeing is believing.<br /><br />Hearing is receiving.<br /><br />And if there's a theory of input/output.<br /><br />Then I'm the paradox to that equation.<br /><br />When there's nothing left to do but put in my recantation.<br /><br />I use my imagination, my tattered world instantly becomes the gracious bow of a cruise ship, floating away into nothingness.<br /><br />My barely there bathing suit reflects the faint whispers of sunlight tapping on my emblazoned shoulder.<br /><br />If you’re bemused. Here is something even more askew.<br /><br />The perfect prime paradigm of nil is the WIND.<br /><br />The wind in all its magnificence bellows to the metaphysical of naught.<br /><br />Its nonentity boggles our unripe minds. Its nothing, yet something.<br /><br />As you ponder this something of a poem about the nothing world of a girl.<br /><br />Remember that existence is never devoid.<br /><br />And nothingness is never something we should avoid.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15407329310662403231noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4625590351975401505.post-37371493711581872082010-02-05T23:59:00.000-08:002010-02-06T00:00:43.829-08:00What goes up must come downMy demeanor started off on a flat line.<br />Life was mediocre and everything was just fine.<br />It could be better, or it could be worse.<br />Listen to the plea in my verse.<br />A little kindling started the flame.<br />It burst into a fire that's hard to tame.<br />A gush of goodness came over me.<br />Whenever it was just me and he.<br />A strange turned to a crush.<br />A crush revolutionized into a lush.<br />Like a bee pursuing a flower in lust.<br />Woe is Me! How sad to foresee.<br />This ending in pity.<br />For what goes up, must come down.<br />And if it ends my world will frown.<br />Alas! It shall be a travesty.<br />One more tragedy to add to my downer dynasty.<br />It was all love like Barney & Friends.<br />But If all good things must come to an end.....<br /><br />At least for now can I still pretend?Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15407329310662403231noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4625590351975401505.post-5607307232478324562010-02-05T23:56:00.001-08:002010-02-05T23:56:43.318-08:00Sunday MorningSunday mornings were made to wipe the 7 day slate clean.<br />If you've ever had a bad Saturday night, you know exactly what I mean.<br />Its 9 am as I open the blinds<br />The week starts fresh I leave the rest all behind.<br />One inebriated Saturday night <br />tricked me into thinking this one was looking right.<br />As I lay on my satin sheets.<br />Thinking the day might start of bleak.<br />I look ahead to what might be a great week.<br />I appraise the past deeds done in despondency.<br />Somehow I know this Sunday morning will liberate me.<br /><br />My phone is ringing, it must be my moronic misconstrue.<br />Telling me what a great time and if I felt it too?<br />Taciturnity, bereaves my lips.<br />As if something is amiss.<br />This is a new day, a day to reconcile.<br />My Sunday mornings are a time of docile.<br />I pick up the pieces of a life yet learned.<br />And come to realize what I discern.<br />The day is calm and the mockingbird beckons.<br />Sun rays beaming down from heaven.<br />Yea my solecism is true.<br />But that doesnt mean my Sunday morning has to be blue.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15407329310662403231noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4625590351975401505.post-14360577130490314252009-08-18T15:36:00.000-07:002009-08-18T15:39:59.262-07:00Touch AffairIt started out as casual as a touch. <br />Comfort and consolation between two friends, was that too much?<br />She needed a comforter and he needed a friend.<br />Notwithstanding how this relationship might end.<br />So they pursued a touch affair.<br />One in need of contact and the other giving theirs.<br />It was the perfect unspoken Love contract.<br />And when they convene the love flows freely via ravine.<br />Mmm mmm is all she could say.<br />It been a long time since she’d been touched this way.<br />Mmmmm<br />Were the only words exchanged between them.<br />When things got too hot and heavy.<br />She’d break down like a Louisiana Levy.<br />Oooo…<br />Out flowed the tension.<br />In came the love pension.<br />A simple touch lit the flame.<br />A casual brush sent down the rain.<br />She hopes their makeshift affair doesn’t disappear.<br />Hoping to continue this touch affair.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15407329310662403231noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4625590351975401505.post-18873094722176680902008-10-13T10:45:00.000-07:002008-10-13T10:51:38.592-07:00I Thin I'm Pregnant!!!!I cant believe Im pregnant!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!I told myself.<br /><br />Im not even having sex! (Celibate for 18 months, so I thought)<br /><br />How could this be? Was I slipped something? Did the assailant slip me GHB and had his way with me?<br /><br />No, I have never put myself in that situation Ive always been with my homegurls for safety. So how could this be???<br /><br />I was so confused, I couldnt tell my Mom that I didnt know HOW I got pregnant.Well the doctor was telling me I was 6 months pregnant so somewhere, somehow male dna had entered my female anatomy and that was science.<br /><br />Science Fiction! U cant get pregnant without sex. So I thought.<br /><br />I started to question the very foundation of reproductive science I was taught in my HS anatomy class.I started questioning myself and my actions. I did gain 15 lbs since my stint as a camp counselor this summer. So that pudgy tummy I acquired was a fetus.How will I explain this to my Mother?<br />Aha! I wont. Cause she wont know.<br />I flip through the yellow pages. Agriculture..Adopting, Abortions...I explain to the lady my situation. "We cant help you ma'am, you're beyond the legal parameters"<br /><br />SHIT!<br /><br />Ok so I google some home remedies. Black Tea, Licorice, vitamin C.<br />Im at whole foods making purchases, when I feel something kick me. I turn to see if its a pesky toddler boy at my hip. No one is there, just me and my belly. I touch my stomach and to my amazement I can feel a head and a spine.<br /><br />I immediately exit the organic food store. I cant kill my baby.<br /><br />I come to the realization that Im not going to FSU. My dreams of interior design are over. I will be living for his/her dreams.<br /><br />I am crying now as I drive back to my mothers house. I throw myself in my bed and ball myself to sleep.<br /><br />I awake to knocking...<br /><br />"Gal get up outta de bed. Dont forget seh u haffi tek Cutie to airport."<br /><br />I walk to the mirror, lift my shirt to take a look at what I once thought was chubbiness.<br /><br />She busts through the door."Wat r u doing"<br /><br />In my most sleepy voice I announce....<br /><br />"Mommy, Im not fat! Im pregnant"<br /><br />She hisses her teeth and walks away. "U still haffi tek cutie to airport"<br /><br /><br />Damn that was a good dream!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15407329310662403231noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4625590351975401505.post-63174987652193080522008-08-06T07:53:00.000-07:002008-08-06T08:15:34.302-07:00Au NaturalMany of my black friends proclaim their Afro-Centric roots by going naptural. I've contemplated slowly coming off the creamy crack myself. But not because I want to protest the white standards of beauty or because I want healthier hair or even because I want to follow the fashion fad. Thee most important reason for going natural is ME. Myself. I.<br /><br />There are no hidden political agendas for my decision. Simply put, I just want a change of hairstyle. I know I will come across many black people who will either love or hate my decision. Thats not important. I dont give a damn about their opinion. Whats important is ME.<br /><br />As I contemplate this, I wonder. How many women are styling themselves for others approval?<br /><br />I+Many others<br /><br />I have fallen victim to this. I debated over my choice for many months now. What was holding me back is the approval from my peers. I had farcical catechisms like "What would HE think?"; "Will I still be accepted as 'beautiful'?"; "Will they still like me?"<br /><br />I have deduced that these questions are ones I should be asking, BUT I was missing one important pronoun in these questions; I, ME, MYSELF.<br /><br />Lets try again.<br /><br />What will <strong>I</strong> think?<br />Will I still accept <strong>MYSELF</strong> as beautiful?<br />Will<strong> I </strong>still like me?<br /><br />Mmm...Much better.<br /><br />However, we cannot live life thinking our decisions, even tiny ones as a hairstyle change, will not affect those around us. I know my kinky afro will deter some eventual employees or potential partners. Its a forlorn fact of life.<br /><br />So maybe, subconciously, my decision does have an arcane agenda. For you see a tiny piece of me wants to reach out to that one black girl who doesnt think cornrows and afros arent a beautiful part of being black. If I exude the confidence and ignore the ignorance I can speak to her and let her know ALL FORMS OF BLACK IS BEAUTIFUL. Lax Roots, Kinky Fros and even Micros!!!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15407329310662403231noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4625590351975401505.post-85058083304466397202008-04-09T21:55:00.000-07:002008-04-09T22:15:30.505-07:00They Tell Me Its GoodI just had a realization tonight as I was memorizing one of my poems for an upcoming Open Mic Night, this Sunday April 13th, 630pm at the Barbara Ying Center at UCF. You know I gotta self promote. Nevertheless, I digress.<br /><br />My pessismesticism is that in order for me memorize something I need to like it. Well, I havent really fallen in love with my poetry. I came to this conclusion tonight. If I were an average Joe jut reading my own poetry, Id be like "Ehh its aiight"<br /><br />But people are telling me all the time that its good.<br /><br />They tell me, Kass, this is amazing to grasp.<br />You have a way with words.<br />Youre point is stern.<br />Youve got the poetic word looks,<br />Now you should be writing books.<br /><br />I brush them off.<br />I should charge, but at what cost?<br /><br />They tell me its Good.<br />Which makes me believe I should.<br /><br />But when I look at these words.<br />Marking my point with poetic burns.<br />I dont see what I should yearn.<br /><br />My words mean nothing as they are in black and white.<br />But in my head they come off as strife.<br />Somehow seeing them in real life.<br />Doesnt bring the issues to light.<br /><br />Yet they read, relate, and always seem to state;<br />"This is too good to rate"<br /><br />I double check the page.<br />Or take a look at the gage.<br />I sense nothing to amaze.<br /><br />They tell me its good.<br />I wanna believe it, I should.<br /><br />I want them to see me as legit.<br />But when I look at the page, I dont see shit.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15407329310662403231noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4625590351975401505.post-22866786331691932942008-03-27T20:52:00.000-07:002008-03-27T21:32:05.658-07:00Writers LuckI titled my blog "Writers Luck" in an ironic attempt to display the strife a writer goes though. I had writers block but tonight, my Dream Journal saved me. Every author should keep a dream journal, when you have writers block just look back on past dreams.<br /><br />This is a dream I had on August 5th 2005. I have of course altered it to make sense for your eyes.<br /><br />Masked Man Memo<br /><br />Chanelle and I were assigned to a Black Panther Movement sit in at a Woolworth's Lunch counter. The year was 1952. I dont remember the season, I dont remember the date, all I can remember was that black mask he wore to tempt my faith. I was destined to be graced by his presence.<br /><br />He was the leader of our posse, but then again I dont even remember the rest of the posse. I just remember him, he had this aura of strength that guided my will towards figuring out this man. Heh, I cant even tell you what he looked like. He wore a black mask. He was sexy still. Maybe he was sexy because I could paint his black canvas with my feline paintbrush. No matter the case. The fact that I couldnt see his face, still made him first in my place.<br /><br />He instructed our posse of disgruntled, disgraced, displaced, deacons to chain themselves to the counter. It was my turn to be chained. He leaned in and wrapped his big thick hard...cord of steel, around my tiny waist. Thats when it stroked me. The scent of heavenly pineapples and manly musk. Like a fruity sexy tropical gush of sensation. I whiffed him in and began my dream in a dream.<br /><br />"Wait!" I Hypothesized.<br />"Take It Off." I demanded.<br />I really wanted him to take off that mask - and his shirt. As if he knew my dirty innuendo, he smiled wryly and took the chains from around my waist. And breathed these unearthly words, that proved my Hypothesis.<br />"You don't have to be afraid my Love."<br />For a momment I forgot my name was Lovelette.<br />He continued his bondage and coy BDSM with my heart. I could think of many places I wanted him to chain me up and the Lunch counter at Woolworth's was not one of them, or was it?<br /><br />He continued his facetious bondage on the rest of our posse. He paused at the mulatto chic with the red beret tilted to the side, for a second too long. I was embarresed at my own jealousy for a man I didn't even know. I still wanted to smack that chic. When he continued his foreplay on our patrons, I continued the foreplay in my psyche.....<br /><br />....I could feel his brown skin rubbing my complexion as if I were the bottle that held the key to his Genie. His hands had yet to discover the reason why men quiver. I let time escape and I could feel a moan escape, as a tongue had found my nape......<br /><br />I opened my brown eyes to alarm, this white man was grabbing me by the neck. Masked Man came to my rescue. We had to make a great escape, and I was glad I was in his arms. He nursed me to sleep, not a sound he did peep.<br /><br />My hand did creep to take a sneak peek, I wanted to see what was under that black heap of fabric. When my hand found the treat. I knew this was the right man to meet.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15407329310662403231noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4625590351975401505.post-72704085018925793142008-03-18T21:08:00.000-07:002008-03-18T21:49:50.777-07:00His TouchI once knew a gentleman who took me to.....well y'all know what I mean.<br />He gave me forbidden fruit for sensual sight.<br />He was the cookie to my milk.<br />Oh yea he did a body good.<br />He did me right.<br /><br />Took advantage of my naive plight.<br />You see I was an unplucked flower.<br />A color purple, unseen.<br />Waiting for my day<br />When I would become somebodys bouquet.<br /><br />And how I miss dipping his cookie into milk.<br />Heh, I was the creamy filling to his oreo.<br /><br />Although I miss His touch<br />I dont crave it that much.<br /><br />Let me break it down, yall.<br /><br />Girl Naive....Heh!<br />Unplucked flower?<br />Forbidden sensual fruit?<br />Milk n Cookies?<br /><br />Na'Mean?<br /><br />Let me put it to yall like this.<br />If I was Eve, he'd be the conniving Snake.<br />If I was Samson, he'd be Delilah.<br />If I was Effie, he'd be my Curtis...<br /><br />And I am telling you, Im not going<br />Im approaching<br />With caution<br /><br />No longer letting the physical choose my destiny.<br />Always thinking with logic.<br />Head First or Feet First.<br />Im coming out on top,<br /><br />But just because I enjoy the memories.<br />Does not make me weak.<br />Let me tell yall<br />I may miss His touch.<br />But I dont really crave it that much.<br /><br />I see it as a lesson learned.<br />Mr Hughes once asked; "What happens to a dream deferred?"<br />My dreams are here in word.<br /><br />You see cause even if my dreams are un done deeds.<br />I can always write them out for all to see.<br />-KE<br /><br />I am happy to acknowledge my past mistakes through poetic lyric.<br />Untill my next high yall<br /><br />PEACEAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15407329310662403231noreply@blogger.com2