Weekend Wellness Tip

You've made it to the weekend.  Congratulations!  Another day.  Another dollar.  Another day to remember to breathe.  Inhale through the nose.  Exhale through the mouth. Remember that life is a journey and not a destination.  All things work together for good to them that love God and who are the called according to His purpose.  There is no fault- just lessons learned. 

Lessons are a good thing.  Sometimes we bump our heads to so that we are reminded that we can feel.  Feel love.  Feel pain.  Feel rage.  Whatever it may be.  We must remember that lessons serve to make us wiser, smarter, better.  We must choose to listen to the small, still voice within- the one that guides.  Lauryn said (in her song, "Tell Him") "it'll be alright".  It always is.  It's never harder than what it appears to be.  F.E.A.R. is: False Evidence Appearing Real.  Nothing more.  Nothing more. 

A Word About Whitney

Yesterday morning the students, teachers, and faculty at Malcolm X Academy, an elementary school in the Bayview district of San Francisco, held a moment of silence in memory of Whitney Elizabeth Houston.  To my astonishment the usual teasing, childish banter, and otherwise fidgety behaviors of the hundred-something students during the "morning circle" were temporarily extinguished as each  boy and girl took a full minute (and that's a LONG time for a child) to reflect on mortality.  Many of the youngsters no doubt had ever heard of Houston much less seen her face in movies and television.  They are however familiar with the shock following the sudden death of a loved one.  The moment was intense. 

There is a popular saying that reads, give them flowers while they live.  Meaning to celebrate the person while they're alive (and can still smell the flowers) people often use this phrase to help cope with the uncertainty of The End.   I can not help but think of this adage when I see the outpouring of emotion following Whitney Houston's passing.  Her home-going celebration was one fit for nothing more than one of God's angels.

I sincerely hope the Stevie Wonders, Alicia Keys', and close friends and family in attendance took the time to tell Whitney that they loved her while her ears could hear.  So as sad as her death is there is a lesson to be learned for all.  Kiss your children.  Do something nice for your parents.  Call an old friend.  Volunteer your time for others.  Life is far too precious to give flowers once they're gone.

Jesus Is My King Cake

Happy Mardi Gras!  While many of you are likely feasting on the succulent deliciousness of a King Cake, hoping luck will direct your teeth to the hidden baby inside I'm resolving to dine with the King of Kings.  Yes, Jesus.

I've been grappling with some issues lately.  After 12 years of smoking marijuana, having the occasional drink (by that I mean drank), and spending frivolously I've come to the conclusion that it's time to put childish things aside and walk worthy according to the blessings God has given me.  I love my wardrobe, impeccable fashion sense, and zoning out with a joint after a stressful day choc full of CPS reports and oppositional children.  This is going to be hard.  Very hard.

But alas, I remember a good friend once saying, "It's the hard that makes us great".  True that.  And now, what our Lord has to say about the matter.  1 Corinthians 13:11 reads:  "When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things.  Translation: I had my time to party, rave until the wee hours of the morning, and stumble into my parents house but I'm 30 now.  I have a 9 month old.  I have a husband.  And more importantly, I've got bills to pay.  Lots of them.

Is it overwhelming?  Yes.  But without faith it is impossible to please Him (Hebrews 11:6).  This is the same God who carried me through stressful all-nighters while preparing research reports in grad school.  The same God that was my Comforter during the grieving process after my late husband passed away.    The same God who delivered my current husband from cancer.  The same God who blessed us with a son when doctors told my husband that he might not ever conceive.  So many reasons to be thankful and so many reasons to be grateful.  I owe him the pleasure of pulling up a seat and dining at His table.  As a matter of fact I am the guest of honor.

So I'll pass on the King Cake and the debauchery it symbolizes.  Bread of Heaven, feed me till I want no more. 

Chris Brown and Rihanna, Admit You're Back Together Already.

Stop the presses!!  Chris Brown tweets "Happy Birthday, Robyn" for Rihanna's24th birthday!  Apparently this was one of the big entertainment stories of the day.  And yes, I have an opinion. 

It's disgusting how the media once demonized Brown for pounding Rihanna's face into a pulp during that 2009 incident while her camp bent over backwards to ensure that she publicly wash her hands of him.  Shortly after Brown made his obligatory rounds to news outlets giving his mea culpa Rihanna became the new poster girl for domestic violence.  I'd never seen such an increase in battery  PSA's and daytime talk show topics since...well, ever. (But thank you to the media coverage for helping me use the story to explain the cycle of violence to children and families).   While my experience with women in DV situations hinted that Rihanna and Chris might very well get back together I held out hope that the fallout from seeing her bloodied face would be enough to keep the pop stars a lifetime away from each other despite their professional circles.

But this is Hollywood and dollars need to be made.  It is far more lucrative for publicists to spin  the "are they or aren't they together" secret right to the bank.   Right after the incident I remember my husband telling me that they would be back together in no time.  It was clear that they were still into each other but the decision was made that poor Rih's tween-aged fans could not see their idol endorse or excuse violence.  Brown continued to go on about his music-making business and lash out at reporters who rather discuss Rihanna than his new albums.  Just ask Robin Roberts. 

Fast forward three years and here we are.  Have fans forgiven Brown?  Did Brown's 2012 Grammy win and performance absolve him from media haterade? 

And thus the Critical Black Woman is calling a spade a spade:  Chris Brown and Rihanna must publicly admit that they've been playing the hoochie coochie immediately after and since the 2009 throw down. More importantly Brown and Rihanna need to admit that they're back together and deal with the fall out of from the psychologists and DV experts.  Yes, there will be concern that reunification sets a bad example for teeny-boppers but the irony is that reunification is a part of the DV cycle.  If the woman (or man) goes back to the perpetrator there is still a chance that the perp can get help and turn his (or her) life around.

And another thing the media needs to admit that they really don't give a hoot about battered women and never cared to begin with.  Why sensationalize Brown's birthday tweet or spin stories of them secretly hooking up?  Was the compassion all BS?  Just a thought. 

Those Bad, Hip Hop Basketball Girls...Housewives

The Bad Girls Club.  Love and Hip Hop.  Basketball Wives.  The Real Housewives of Atlanta.  Much to the dismay of my husband I watch them ALL.    Black Woman, (and yes I'm speaking directly to us because we ARE the ones that are watching) what have we become?  Why do we do this to ourselves?  Every evening during these shows and especially the morning after, we run to Twitter and Facebook to lament, criticize, and encourage the actions of these overnight celebrities who look so much our own sister-girls.  "Girrrl....NeNe is tripping".  "Chrissy is a bitch."  "I would have slapped her too".  You know who you are.

My rantings come on the heels of season 3's Love and Hip Hop finale where Mona Scott-Young, executive producer, sat down in a one-on-one interview with each cast member for the obligatory season recap.  The typical panel-style reunion show (which usually ends up in a Jerry Springer-esque all out brawl) was scrapped as we were told that some cast members, grown women mind you,  were unable to sit in the same room with one another after this season's unfoldings.  Juicy stuff.  I'm interested...go on.  As usual some women couldn't get over the he-said, she-said backstabbing while others (no names mentioned, Emily) hoped to "shame" their superstar men back into a loving relationship with their appearance on the show.

Surprisingly, my WTF antennae perked up as some of the women got all up in Scott-Young's face about how they were portrayed on the show.  Olivia was seen as weak whereas Erica and Kimbella came across as gold-digging, nail-clawing hoochies in the flesh.    Scott-Young was crafty enough play the soothing nurturer during their boo-hoos though she pulled the strings in orchestrating the Vaseline and sneaker showdowns.  I don't get it.  If you're wise enough to try to teach these women a valuable lesson about their ways then why be the one exploiting the ugly?  (Oh right, money).  And why cry about it later anyway?  Nobody made you get into full costume and makeup to shoot the afternoon-brawl-by-the pool scene.  Puh-lease. Somaya was perhaps the only one to call a spade a spade when she accused Scott Young of choosing to edit parts of the storyline that suggested her to be fiercely headstrong in branding herself while the fight scenes made the cut.  Again, Puh-lease.

What is wrong with this picture?  This is exactly what is meant by Double Consciousness at its finest.  Now I gotta worry about what "the other" thinks of me?  Now I gotta see it on "Shit White Girls Say About Black Girls (funny as it may be).

To this lowly little social worker who prides herself on being a strong black woman (whatever that means) the cognitive dissonance is astounding!  (Basically it means there's an inconsistency between my beliefs and my actions).  These shows are my guilty pleasure for sure yet they set Black women far back in overcoming negative stereotypes. Everything in my being says that the actions of these women are disgusting and they don't represent me yet I'm human and compelled to watch. Help!

Maybe we watch to feel better about ourselves.  Or maybe we're just sheep, slaves to the whims of the entertainment biz.  I mean, Flavor of Love.  Really?  Anything for a buck.  How about this.  I'll work on my integrity and tune out and you (White people) stop referring to a place or situation as "ghetto".  Not okay.