This is Truth's uterus.

I've always known that I do not have to have kids.
Once I grew well enough to know that I had rights and that the status quo is only so till you change it, I fell in love with the idea of challenging the world on its presumed right to my womb.
It is within me. I own this. This uterus, has my name on it.

My body, my cervix, my eggs, my choice.

Simply put, I was not having anyone tell me what to do with my vag.
Armed with that knowledge, and the recognition that love is love regardless who it is bestowed upon or who gives it; I decided on adoption.

Then sometime when I was a teen, I saw a TV show about a family with several adopted kids from different ethnic backgrounds. The idea of rearing kids from different races appealed to me. I fell in love with the whole theme. I decided then, that I'd have seven kids; adopted from different races.

Years later, I realize what I had fallen in love with is what the family symbolized; unity. The idea of having the whole world represented under your roof, living as a family; gave me a little reassurance that it may be possible to achieve unity in this world of ours.

Truth is, adopted or not, I dont think I want any kids to share my time with. I am selfish. Yes, selfish. I dont want to share my wealth, my time, my space with kids.
Though (now am about to sound really confused) the idea of having a person who looks like we who i can teach my ideals, is really appealing. I feel like deciding to not have kids would be a poor idea because it would be a loss to this world that someone who has my ideals (yeah, am about to sound really proud) isnt going to procreate. I mean...

Aint I A Woman? - Sojourner Truth (1797-1883)

"Well, children, where there is so much racket there must be something out of kilter. I think that 'twixt the Negroes of the South and the women at the North, all talking about rights, the white men will be in a fix pretty soon. But what's all this here talking about? That man over there says that women need to be helped into carriages, and lifted over ditches, and to have the best place everywhere. Nobody ever helps me into carriages, or over mud-puddles, or gives me any best place! And ain't I a woman? Look at me! Look at my arm! I have ploughed and planted, and gathered into barns, and no man could head me! And ain't I a woman? I could work as much and eat as much as a man - when I could get it - and bear the lash as well! And ain't I a woman? I have borne thirteen children, and seen most all sold off to slavery, and when I cried out with my mother's grief, none but Jesus heard me! And ain't I a woman? Then they talk about this thing in the head; what's this they call it? (member of audience whispers, "intellect") That's it, honey. What's that got to do with women's rights or negroes' rights? If my cup won't hold but a pint, and yours holds a quart, wouldn't you be mean not to let me have my little half measure full? Then that little man in black there, he says women can't have as much rights as men, 'cause Christ wasn't a woman! Where did your Christ come from? Where did your Christ come from? From God and a woman! Man had nothing to do with Him. If the first woman God ever made was strong enough to turn the world upside down all alone, these women together ought to be able to turn it back , and get it right side up again! And now they is asking to do it, the men better let them. Obliged to you for hearing me, and now old Sojourner ain't got nothing more to say."

ITS A GIRL!!!

I was born with a defect. When Moma heard ma cry, little did she know i was far, far, far and even farther, from her hopes. She wished for a normal child. A baby that would fill the void, make every little thing right. But unfortunately, i was missing a part. I was incomplete. Her baby was born, handicapped.
But she loved me anyway, she never did give me the idea that i was incapable, different, abnormal.
But i see it in their eyes when i wake. I smell it in their stench when we love, i sense it in their tones when they speak. Lowered expectations i didnt have to hop to reach, Gawking eyes that sized my eligibility, Little subtle faith they had in my worth... none. It all reminded consistent like cock crow at the break'a fresh dawn...
yes, i am handicapped.

When Moma asked the inevitable question: "what is it?"
She heard the clumsy nurse reply: "its a girl."
Poor nurse it must have been real hard... having to announce the sad news.
Iwas born, missing a penis and a few balls.
but please, dont crusify me. I should be collecting some sort of government financial disbaility subsidy. But this disability lacks that luxury. I was born into the wrong gender. I was born a woman. I admit it, I'm missing a part. But i didnt choose! You arent any better, all you had was luck! I was chosen to be this mutant, and for that must i be punished?
Must you demand that i make your meals, that i make it right, and that i serve it too?
Must i breed your kids, help make money and love you too?
Wait a minute, lets visit this topic for a minute... Mister man, must i WANT kids? Is the essence of my life, the true reason why i breathe, the purpose of my being, to make another version of me, so that someday, "she" too, my mutant child, can slave off for yet another version of you???
And say i couldn't cook, and i was barren, then what does that make me? huh!??? A total waste of space, a food consuming engine, some sort of dispensable trash?
God, if i should ever be re-born
hope never again to be this.
And if i should ever breed,
Hope to never hear it....
"ITS A GIRL!!!"

let sleeping dogs lie

Being able to look past yesterday
Looking sideways, recognizing the baggages that refused to stay. Saying "come along then!" for there is no time to stall.
Baby girls, families, friends, Moma yall cant leave me now!
And moving along.
Let the currents be my boat.
Float me abode
as i move along these wary waves...
Let the past be that. for there never is a lesson learnt if there isnt anything lost.
What an uneventful boring life i'd have lived.
if i never had anything to drop, lost, pop, shove the fuck off!
om my way tomy destination.
So who comes along?! but the strong, the meek, the ones who overcame the hauls.
only the loved.
so many goodbyes.
bye to the ones that didnt make it.
and a thank you tothe ones who helped the success reach.
not only will i let sleeping dogs lie.
i'll also OD them on some sleeping pills.
hoping that they sleep, never to rise again.

July 7/07

Cucumber to comeville

If God was (is?) a woman, i wonder if she laughed as she created cucumbers...
some are so large, they are unbelievable.
and some so minute, you need not slice them.
there are some so thick, they're scary
and some so thin, its sad...
as she crafted the shape, i wonder if she thought
"hmm... wouldnt it be awesome if it had life!"
if she was human,
i wonder if she ever was horny.
and when she was, i wonder if she ever tried it out.
hell, as i washed and diced my 15inches long cucumber tonight,
lawd knows the only reason i didnt use it
was because it was straight out of the fridge.

i
dont
like
cold
utensils
in
me
.

so i went over to my toy box
and grabbed my vibrator...
come-ville, here i come!

infinite

oh I beg you darlings, please believ it. You can adapt!

Your mind is a powerfulthing

What do you think faith resides in?

Wanna walk on water?

Get up…

Convince your senses-

Skin, I am light

Ears, balance me as such

Sight, this is firm

Taste- water is rigid

Oh whatever else that must believe,

Do! Convince it!

Believe it as I say this

You my dears, can move mountains!

Till, be delayed.

And I am not angry

And I am not bitter

And I am not sorry.

Holding bno regrets.

I am glad for then.

Glad, for then.

For I was in a fairy tle.

It ended. But I was there.

And now I know

With all certainties…

There isn’t such thing as happily ever after

There only exists, “happily ever till”

Hoping that “till”, never comes for you.

Hoping your “till” is delayed enough

To see the beauty in yours.

As I did mine…

My shortest fling

i dont know what to name you
so you shall remain the nameless one.

met you in the elevator a while ago
you came in,
smiled.
i looked up,
smiled.
and like you didnt matter,
i returned to my text world.
when you spoke to me.
you spoke.
i mean... boy did you ever speak!

pulling me right out of that trance...
you spoke me out of it
gave me a short time away
from away...


tall, big grin animated your face.
you are beautiful.
so so beautiful.

strange.
i hardly noticed your lack of melanin.

yet i felt it.
you should be mine...
for a little while
as we elevated through those floors
for some silly reason
i had the pleasure of being with you.
you were mine.
and you cherished my love,
and gave us your all.
and cared for me.
supported me.
bubble baths, candles lit... dinner on me...

you wanted the best for me.

you are my shortest fling.

so it makes me so sad
to hear you say today
that you'd be moving away.
you've found another place.

"congratulations"
and you replied...
"yeah, we bought a house."
i wanted to ask...
who did you buy it with?

Experience, teach me!

If a mistake is being made,
then let it be just that; made.
For i am ready to be corrected, to learn and to accept
which ever way this ends, I am ready to let it be.

I'm moving in with TBS.

and whatever happens after then, just needs to happen.
i cant be bothered with worrying anymore.
if this is the wrong choice,
then i need to find out.
not by wondering, assumptions or suspicions.

i need to find out through experience.
so here i am, consulting my best teacher.

Experience, i am here to learn.
Let life be my classroom, while you be the book.
let the lecture begin!

Questions for you.

If you got with a partner, and you two have been dating for a few years
you two have discussed marriage and you've made plans for it although you arent engaged
And then after a while, you realise that he or she has some learning disability or even worse... read on...
1.would it impair the way you feel about the person?
2.would you still marry such a person?
3.would your answer be different if you found out it wasnt just a learning disability, but a dominant disorder i.e theres a good chance your kids will have learning disabilities
4. would you remain with your current partner if they were suddenly diagnosed with a debilitating disorder (such as ALS or Lou-Gherig's disease) which will eventually disable them from moving or speaking, and eventually kills them?


Sorry, i know these questions are esxtreme but i have my reasons. And no, this isnt about me. Please answer accordingly. thanks

Hair Shmair

Hair.
What makes hair?
no, i dont mean "how doeshair grow"? i'm not looking for some kind of physiological reason or an explanation of the anatomy of hair- i mean...

okay...
i know a girl (who i'll be "remembering" in oneof my later posts by the way), who i had known for years! she'd always have weave on. You know; the pretty long flowy kinds? ok. Then last summer, i saw Miss thing with her head shaved bald. i was appauled! i mean... what happened?

Lets back track...Myself, highschool years in grade 12. i went to my hair dresser one day and simply said "shave it off down to one inch" and was thankful she didnt even try to convince me to change my mind. she gave me what i wanted and i walked out of her salon, as pleased as a newly released sperm.

Dimples, about 3 years ago, chopped off all her hair to restart it au naturel and currently has it in dreads. Dyed dreads.

My sister(Fire), chopped her hair off at about age 24- dyed it blond and rocked that for about 4 years.

Nat, has for years now, had short natural hair, that she sometimes twists into little knots.

Myself (again,), recently cut myhair into a punkish style so that only the verytop of my head has longerhair. i also dyed it black (myhair isnt black, naturally) and added some purple-red extensions into it. so...
tell me people...
what makes your hair?

Heres my two cents:

Black females females wear their hair short to signify simplicity, roots, ethnicity, femininity, strength, power, confidence andmaybe

Bald head on a black female getsme thinking... "she has been through a period,or a time or something thats made her decide that beauty isnt in her hair, but rather, the lack there of. somehow, her GPRS system chose toaccept that hair is a boundary, a web, a classification that represents somethign that she doesnt want to be. " bald head on a woman, signifies feminism.

Short natural head on a black female gets me thinking... "she is letting it go. she is tired ofsupporting what shes been against for so long; that she must look like daughters of thesame people who enslaved her mothers. she has chosen to let go of the belief that she must possess long blond staright hair in order to be beautiful. she rememebers that she wasnever that- until slavery. This women, tells me that they are "un"-slaving themselves. they are disengaging themseleves from slavery-inflicted thoughts and beliefs that they must accept the white culture. A short natural hair on a black female tells me she knows where shes from, and would like to return to just that.

Short permed/treated hair on a black female gets me thinking... "she knows that her beauty isnt in the leanght of herhair.She loves to rule as a woman. She loves to be a strong female. She loves to be that female sho goes out, parties, comes home, cooks and cleans for 4 kids,andgoes oto work the next day. she is a multitasking sex machine. This look speaks "intelligence" to me.

Short colour treated hair says "i'mnot aboutto pay so much money to look like everyone else,and even if i was, itwouldnt be to look like Miss taned KKK. BUT! i loveshock (which explains thecolour)


So, what makes hair?

the experiences of the woman who owns it.
When i went to cut my hair-i knew i was aking a statement to myself.
a statement to you, to me, to the world.
It was over- and i needed a constant reminder and a good gift, for me.
My hair symbolizes me.
I am a punk.
what can i say?
I cant stand punk music (maybe cuz they yell so damn hard), but i live a life of constant rush... fromt he moment i wake to the moment i lay ma head to sleep.
I need to be a ble to stand in a crowd and look different- because it saddensme to look like everyone else.
As i look at myself in the mirror, i appreciate the unique features in my cheeks, the curves at the sides of my nose, and the 2 big bulges that represents my eyes. i look further north and see my hair, and smile. My hair matches what i feel inside.
short,long, black,blue red, natural paches with that one permed spot.
this hair- is me.
me in my confusedyet totally fucking comfortable state.
this is my hair.