Category Archives: Relationships

I’m Weird, I’m Here…Get Used To It!!!

A friend told me this weekend that societal issues cannot be fully understood on a macro level…that in order to get to the crux of an issue that affects everyone, you gotta look at the individual stories of the someones.  Well, in the last couple of weeks, I’ve seen the tragic end of the stories of five someones, gay teenagers, who felt that suicide was the only way out and to that I say, “ENOUGH!!!”

It’s time to talk this thing out before one more precious, viable, lovable life is destroyed.

What’s the real issue here anyway?  I get that we as Christians believe that homosexuality is wrong but how does preventing someone from getting married dissuade them from being gay?  If they’re born gay, ain’t they still gonna be gay, married or not?  Maybe even gayer.  Y’all know how folks get when you tell ‘em they can’t do something.  Jokes aside, it seems to me that being gay and being married are two unrelated things.  Plus it’s about equality — why shouldn’t gay people suffer right alongside the rest of us??

Christians, if we believe that homosexuality is a sin then certainly we believe that lying is also a sin because it’s written in the same source.  However, there are a whole group of liars getting married every day…they’re called MEN!!  But I don’t see your ass writing up no propositions to keep their lyin’ asses out the sacred institution.  The reality is there are many sins — that’s why there are so few real Christians.  So why, then, are we honing in on homosexuality as the worst sin?  I smell hypocrisy (I know it sounds mean, but I did sing it in a really high voice to soften the blow) And LBGTQ’s – before you get your panties (OK, so some of you wear boxers – but c’mon bois, I’m just sayin’ it for effect) all in a knot about how God made you that way so it can’t be a sin – STOP.  You can’t change thousands of years of a belief system just because you say so.  Folks are not going to accept readily what they don’t understand.  Period.  And not even Your Royal Gayness is going to be able to change that just because you’re quick-witted and sassy. It’s only natural for folks to want to understand how this will impact the institution as we know it.  I, for one, have asked quite a few LBGTQ’s about how these marriages would fit into the church and the Christian belief system as we know it and I’ve yet to get a straight answer. I think most of us are tired of the bashing and would jump at the chance to talk and understand one another.  But instead we all just seem to be condemnin’ and confusin’.  It gets us nowhere and it ain’t gonna work.  And that’s straight talk.

Gay folk are not just gonna give up the ghost and go ‘way.  I have to agree with them – they’re queer, they’re here and we’d better get used to it.  Just like America did with black folk, it’s time for America to accept gay folk…in that long-handled spoon, love ya from a distance but don’t move into my neighborhood kinda way. Well, that’s not true…everyone wants gays to move into their neighborhood.  Damn, black folk, we’re about slip one more rung on the social ladder.

Anyway, the long and short of it is that beliefs can’t be forced on anyone.  But tolerance must.  We’ve all got to have a zero tolerance policy for physical and verbal violence and bullying against the LGBTQ community.  Not just because it’s wrong but also because you’re likely to get hurt.  All the gay people I know are scrappy as hell!!  They’ve been fighting bullies all their lives.  Pick on ‘em if you want…but you like to had got dealt with.  Just cuz he like pink don’t make him a punk!  (Note:  Got a few questions about the phrase “like to had got dealt with” from some folk not well versed in the vernacular.  ”Like to had got dealt” is a colorful, idiomatic expression that indicates the receiving party would have his ass handed to him presumably after an ass whoopin’ the likes of which he has never experienced before.  My people are wonderfully gifted and creative craftsmen of language.)

A little human compassion goes a long way.  Despite what the church says, I’m not ready to de-humanize the LBGTQ community and force fit them into a monolithic box of lumberjack dykes and effeminate, squishy-bottomed boys on their way to Sodom and Gomorrah…or West Hollywood, as we know it today.  There are stories and people and families and really, really fabulous fashion sense involved here.  Can you imagine a couple being together for fifty years and then one of them gets sick?  Can you imagine the other one not being able to make decisions about the partner that he or she spent their entire life with just because they’re the same gender?

The truth is that I don’t know how I feel about the issue of gay marriage, perhaps because I’m more concerned about the marriage part than the gay part of that phrase.  But I do know that I need to be educated quickly before, left to my own ign’ant ass, outspoken devices, I try to make a decision on my own.  Have we learned nothing from the Tea Party Movement?  Right, wrong or indifferent, human compassion tells me that love is love and that two people who decide to spend this life together should be able to do so and be recognized to the very, very end.  Or at least until Jeff Fisher comes in and splits the assets equitably cuz one spouse found out the other one had a secret hetero relationship on the…uh, uh, up high?  Equal rights, y’all, equal rights.

Who’s Afraid Of Dating The Big Bad Wolf??

Has it come to this?  Singles, I know the pickins are slim but damn!  The statistics are frightening and the reality can be discouraging but we have to make sure for our own sanity and perhaps our own safety that we don’t mistake being somebody’s somebody for being anybody’s somebody.    Not everyone deserves the opportunity to impact our lives and the lives of the little ones who depend on us.

This is a real tragedy.  (click here)  Devastating!  Let’s not waste the lesson in it.  I’ll admit you never know what folks are experiencing until you walk a mile in their shoes but I’d like to think that, as a therapist, I wouldn’t marry any student – especially if the class I taught was anger management.  The suspect just got out of jail, then had to attend anger management class.  And if I was going to marry someone who has to take a special class to manage his anger, I’d like to think I wouldn’t pick a recent graduate.  Perhaps I’d pick someone with an advanced degree in anger management.  Maybe someone who passed the practicum with flying colors or published a paper on it.  We certainly wouldn’t be moving his tassel from one side to the other on the way to the altar.  The last thing I need is to finally find my soul mate only to be stabbed 57 times with a butter knife because I didn’t pass him the gravy the first time he asked.

Not to trivialize this…because the real tragedy is the child who lost his mother and the tremendous hurdle he’ll spend the rest of his life trying to clear.  Perhaps he’ll continue the cycle of abuse, certainly he’ll have anger of his own to conquer.  With a bit of blessing, the remaining adults in his life will squeeze out of this horrific experience the only possible teaching moment – violence is not a means of communication, for anger or any other emotion.

The Black American Family: Out With The Old Guard, In With The New

Remember this?  It was a tremendously emotional night for me.  I cried because I believed.

I believed in change and I believed in the sanctity of marriage.  I still believe in the sanctity of marriage.

I am inspired by this man and this woman and what they’ve built…together.  His success is clearly a family business.

I’ve learned from watching friends, family members and those that live their lives in a public arena that marriage is both a gift of God and a tool of the enemy.  Marriages must carefully guarded, they are precious.  And when you open them up for access to the entire world, they often end.

Whatever challenges they’ve faced on professional and personal level, I’m praying that this family can make it through the next 2-6 years intact.  That those children have the continued love and availability of both parents and access to the love that their parents share with one another.

If they can pull this off, it will be the most important accomplishment our country has ever known.  Someone will have finally knocked Cliff and Claire Huxtable off of their undeserved pedestal.  Y’all know that broad had too much sass and too much mouth, always  tryna ”let me tell you one thing.”  No, bitch, let ME tell YOU one thing.  Ain’t no partner at no prestigious NY law firm comin’ home to cook and clean up after her family, all without even taking off her Chanel pumps and Roland Mouret suit!  Meanwhile, there’s a completely useless husband down in the basement diddling with OB/GYN nurses and choreographing dance numbers with the kids…

C’mon, I’m ready to lose the Huxtable family as the Holy Grail of black families and put a real family with real issues on the forefront of American minds.  Real issues like should we pimp slap President Calderon for coming to the US and talking slick about Arizona (Hey!  those are OUR ignorant yokels.  If anyone is gonna call them racist bastards, it’s gonna be us!)  Or, how do we reduce our country’s dependence on oil, particularly now that half of it is turning rancid in a big puddle in the Gulf.  Not trivial shit like how are we gonna get Peter’s little fat ass to the dentist when we can’t even get the little porker to stop bolting out the door into the traffic like a slave chasin’ freedom every time the front door is opened.  Of course, the Huxtables look like the perfect family.  Other than Peter and that damn Gordon Gartrelle gone wrong, they ain’t got no problems!  Even Olivia’s little “dysfunctional mama” havin’ ass turned out to be sweet as puddin’ pie.  No abandonment issues, no nothing.

Let’s watch the Obamas instead.  Now these folks?  These folks got some problems.  They got crazies crashing their parties, breaches of national security, exiled ex-girlfriends, approval ratings, PMS.  This is serious business.  They need constant prayer.  We that care to should be keeping this family in our prayers and/or in our thoughts.

Well, except for me.  Since I’ve decided to respect the sanctity of their marriage and stop calling him My Boo, I need to keep that married man out of my thoughts…because they’re dirty.

Don’t Cry For Me, Argentina! Just Meet Me In The Keys!

Why are Governor Mark Sanford and his wife’s still in the news? (click here) I’ve drawn the conclusion that these two people, who’s lives have taken completely different turns, have one and only one thing in common:

Neither one of them gives a damn about their four kids.

First of all, who DOES that?  Who tells everyone at the office that they’re going for a hike only to board a plane and fly to another entire continent…just to get some ass?  Dude, you’re a damn pig!  You couldn’t find no regional, state or local ass?  Isn’t South Carolina known for their natural resources? It says so right on their state seal along with the question, “Who Will Separate?” (Apparently, the Governor thought it less a question and more a call for volunteers)

And stop pretending you don’t enjoy being in the public eye, Gov’na! The media is obsessed with your personal life? With all that drama you brought to the table calling that broad your soulmate all up in front your wife, it’s a wonder you haven’t gotten your eyeballs scratched out! On a side note, does it make you wonder where Jenny Sanford’s girls were at the time?  Vacation, maybe?  If my man pulled some mess like that, my girls and I would have to jump in the car…then a canoe…then a train…then another car…then a burro, and break all up in that camp. Yet, even Jenny’s sister sounds strangely supportive of Mark. Perhaps there’s a reason not to throw this man under the bus publicly about his triflin’ ass? If my brother in law cheated on my sister, I would literally throw his ass under, over and in front of a bus.

And Jenny Sanford is no better. Who tells four teenage boys the truth about their cheatin’ dad?  Who DOES that?  And under the guise of needing to protect her boys by being 100% honest with them.  Lady, you a damn lie!  Since when do we have to be honest with the kids? You need to lie to ‘em just like the rest of us. Them boys didn’t need to know the truth about their father.  That was grown folk stuff.  Why you can’t let them boys find out on their own about their no-count daddy (and his side piece.) Don’t put the babies shit all out there just cuz YOU’RE mad at YOUR baby daddy. Shoulda never married his triflin’ ass anyway!

So, now Mark and his Argentinian sidepiece are kickin’ it in the Florida Keys while his ex-wife Jenny goes on Dr. Phil campaignt ing for the person who’s running against her ex-husband for the GOP primary vote for SC Governor.  And you and I both know Dr. Phil don’t put his hands on nothing if ain’t dirty. And something certainly is dirty cuz why would she mess with her ex’s job -ain’t she gettin’ alimony?  She messing with her own damn paper!  Silly rabbit. Speaking of rabbits, looks like she’s also come out publicly with a new boyfriend. Hmmmm, already???

Didn’t all this stuff happen just last year? SMDH…those poor babies. Poor, poor babies.

*sigh* Hopefully, all of the judges and magistrates will take this stuff in consideration before sentencing the Sanford boys in the next 5-10 years

Let’s Stop Whispering Down The Lane and Raise One Voice- One Loud Ass Voice -Preferably Like Rosie Perez’s Character in Do The Right Thing. RIP Yeardly Love.

 Now, that Chris Brown has gotten the thumbs up from the judge, I gotta ask. How long are we gonna punish this kid for what was obviously a criminal, morally reprehensible but probably learned response? When is enough enough? Today, we have a one-sided view of domestic violence. Rescue the victim, vilify the abuser. But nobody is made well; cured of this disease. How’s that working for us, people? Chris Brown, George Huguely, Lawrence Taylor…and that’s just the news today.

Domestic violence makes for good T.V.

[Scene] Pictures of bloodied, beaten victims; lifeless forms covered in white sheets, tossed and strewn wildly in struggle; contained neatly by the boundary of yellow police tape.

[Insert that Law and Order noise] Diapered, crying children traumatized and barefooted.

[Dramatic announcer voice] What kind of monster would beat so mercilessly those he professes to love?

[cut to] Wild-eyed psychopath hiding in the bushes. Cue the villagers marching down the street, torches and righteous indignation in hand.

Meanwhile, the villagers march past the dude that actually did it cause we’re so busy chasing the big “after the fact” drama, we don’t notice the guy who speaks just a little too sharply to the girl across the table on their second date. We march right past that mofo. Or, the guy who can’t disagree with his chick without grabbing her arm. Nope, no batterer here. Or, even the girl who thinks that her man really loves her cuz he gets crazy when other dudes check for her. All’s fair in love and war!

But instead of catchin’ the problem at this stage, we runnin’ around behind Chris Brown’s little fairy ass boycotting Target for selling his CD’s. WTF?

Instead of that, let’s just explore how both sides are participating in a dysfunctional situation. Some stay because they got nothing else, shame on US! But some stay because they KNOW nothing else, shame on us…again. Somebody’s gotta say it. Something ain’t right if you’re an abuser; something else ain’t right if sticking around for the abuse. Now, if you try to say that out loud, folk will shout you down about how you never, never blame the victim but that ain’t what I said. I’m not even talking about blame, I’m talking about healing. If your body has disease, would you try to heal one side only and disregard the other? Make no bones about it, the willingness to abuse someone is a disease and so is the willingness to be abused. A fatal one without intervention.

We were all horrified by the pictures of Ri-Ri cuz that little girl got lumped up bad. Lucky for her. Because it forced her out of a situation that could have ultimately killed her. Chris ain’t just wake up one day and start laying down the hammer for now reason. And neither did George Huguely. But Yeardly Love is dead today because she wasn’t lucky enough to get her ass beaten real bad first. See, all her friends and teammates knew that her boyfriend was off. No one said a word. Because George Huguely didn’t fit the profile of the big monster killer…then. Folks wanted him to get help but they didn’t want to pull the trigger on having him ostracized for life. For the record, not everyone is gonna hold back like that. If some folks see a man get too handsy with a chick, they’ll turn him in. Sure, snitches get stitches, but some call po-po on bitches!)

So, we have to release that boy from the bondage of who he was and free him to become a better person. Not cuz we like ‘em…cuz to tell you the truth, I know some chicks who can prolly take it straight to Chris Brown and wear that little yellow ass out. He wouldn’t be giving out but one lump that day and that would the last lump he levied in his life. No, we need to let him move on because other people, young impressionable people, in similar situations are watching how we respond. If try to punish him forever, other men with this problem won’t seek help and other girls, like Yeardly Love, who are being abused won’t seek help because they don’t want someone they love to be vilified forever.

We’ve got to show them a sensible path to healing: education, awareness, outreach. That’s should be our Promise to them. Here’s an excellent start.. There’s one thing I know (and quite possibly, just one)…regular folk don’t go from zero to crazy in sixty seconds. That kinda dysfunction develops over time. You don’t grab somebody’s Lamborghini keys and throw ‘em out of the window on the first date! Neither do you put someone in a choke hold while exchanging pleasantries. It builds up over time. The old adage is true: you can boil a frog alive if raise the temperature one degree at a time. Help, real help nips that shit in the bud early through education and awareness. So, that we can pass something other than the legacy of violence and abuse down to da kids. And y’all know, Kymmie Kym luh da kids. (Unless them little bastards get outta line…)

Screw Exile! I Woulda Checked That Chicken’s Chin!!! Where’re Her Girls At?

Vera Baker is the hot topic of the hour (click here)…and for the life of me, I can’t figure out why.  I just don’t see the mystery. 

But first, let me be a bit preemptive.  To those of you who are going to say that a politician’s personal life has no bearing on whether or not he’s able to do his job, let me just say…DEEZ NUTS!!  The ability to exercise good judgement and impulse control are the hallmarks of a good leader.  And if he can’t manage to execute those in his home, I absolutely question his ability to do them on the job.  Look at at a person’s home to determine if they are an effective manager.  You don’t have to believe me, you can ask John Kerry.

So, that’s why we need to discuss this. 

First, my mama ain’t raise no damn fool – My Boo and Ms. Baker were just workin’ together?  More like, they were workin’ IT OUT together.  The question ain’t “if,” the question is ”when!”   Folk already know that the Obamas’ marriage has come back more times than Jay Z.  These days, with marriages being nothing more than Ponzi schemes of booty, it’s more common for couples to hit a rough patch over some random piece of ass every now and than.  Add to that, the pressure of limelight and you’re bound to have fresh or recycled groupie drama on the side.  Even the broke down brothas gotta fresh groupie or two.  I know a dude who works at the post office, he got a side chick cuz of his good gov’ment bennies.  As much as it breaks my heart, it’s entirely feasible and even highly probable that My Boo stepped outside the marriage back then.  It’s not surprising, disappointing but not surprising.

What does surprise me is that folks seem to be tryna kick Michelle Obama’s back in.  Even if she did send that trick away, so what?  That skank DID take a run at her man.  Quite frankly, exile sounds a lot nicer than an ass whoopin’ don’t it?  Somewhere there’s a groupie with a kicked ass walking around wishing she had been sent out to pasture in Montana somewhere.  But there always been rumors swirling about Michelle’s psycho jealousy even before her alleged exile of Vera Baker.  Now, I have no personal knowledge of the situation but I am a card carrying member of CSI (Cheating Spouse Inspectors) so lemme grab forensics kit and let have a look?

So, the rumor says that Michelle Obama had Ms. Baker exiled to…Martinique.  WHAT?  That don’t even SOUND right!  Now, I’m not a rocket scientist but it seems to me that if I got wind of a relationship between my high-powered husband and hot young thing, the last thing I’ma do is send her someplace tropical and French-sounding.  Mess with my man and your ass is gettin’ exiled to Mogadishu or Baghdad or Detroit, y’know, someplace war torn and forsaken.  And not just cause I’m bitchy like that, why send her ass somewhere romantic so I could locate my missing man in the arms of his mistress in some tropical paradise.  Hell, no!  Who am I…Jenny Sanford?  Sorry, I just refuse to believe this Chicago sista rewarded this stunt (the act AND the broad) with no damn all-expense paid vacation package unless this ho is wandering around Martinique with a black eye and a mysterious limp, blinking too much and answering to the name Conchita.   The real deal is that Barack’s people sent her ass down there to keep her ass quiet.  Why Martinique? I dare you to find a reputable news source that reports to or from the island.  I found an online news source and searched on Vera Baker, their newest, most famous resident; no results.  Hmmmm….convenient. 

Now, Vera n’em will tell you that she left cuz she fell in love with a Caribbean man.  Well, let’s rap a taste ’bout that?  There you are, you’re in your twenties, working for a fine-ass future president in a prestigious role.  Finance Director, that’s what they called it, right?  I’ll spare you all of the puns and play on that title that I came up with.  Sufficed to say, I had fun.  Anyway, you’re clearly makin’ more damn money than you’re worth, well, for “directing the finances” anyway.  In spite of all that, you fall in love with a man and move to a small, disconnected island paradise.  To do what? Wear clamdiggers?  Make curry goat? Raise chickens? I don’t know a man on earth who would wants any part of a chicken that dumb.  It’s okay, ho, you got run outta town.  Michelle Obama ain’t no joke.  You was ’bout to had got dealt wit’…I woulda left, too.

See, much has been made of Michelle Obama’s insane jealousy.  She’s jealous of Vera Baker, Oprah, Beyonce, Desiree Rodgers, groupies…you name her, the media will tell you she’s jealous of her.  Isn’t this a mischaracterization of what’s actually going on?  The implication, of course, being that the jealousy is baseless.  Come on!  All these broads was gunnin’ for her dude!  E’re…last…one.  How come even Etta James’ old nasty, gyrating oversexed ass can get all the way through “At Last” without shooting sexual thunder darts out of her eyes but Beyonce can’t?  Look, I totally get it.  When that man gets to doin’ that walk…woo-wee!!  Look, is the man not known to my friends and family as My Boo?  Michelle’s reaction ain’t jealousy.  It’s self-defense.  In spite of what’s going on the political scene, she’s got a marriage and a family to protect.  And I have a feeling that she’s the type of chick to pull out all the stops (and all your tracks) to protect her family…and her mama got her back.  Be careful, skanks, last I checked, self-defense will get her off in every state…just in case she gotta go in a bag on somebody’s ass.

Now, all this is cool but at the end of the day, if My Boo cheated on his wife and me…he’s a pig.  A fine ass pig.  A fine ass powerful pig.  A fine ass powerful pig who walks around like he’s carrying a stick of dynamite in his pants.  A fine ass powerful pig who walks around like he’s carrying a stick of dynamite in his pants and hangs a suit like nobody’s business.  A fine ass power- Damn!  Call me, Boo!

The Truth About Men

Last week, my nephew had to get two shots during a visit to the pediatrician’s office.  The doc and her staff came in and administered the shots, which he hated, but then gave him a Disney bandage, which he ADORED.  As you and I both know, bandages don’t last forever so eventually, he was devastated when the bandage lost it’s stickiness and had to go the way of his used snot rags.

So today, we’re driving around in the car and he gets quiet, pensive almost.  Then he says, “Aunt Kym, I want to go and get a shot today.”  You see, during that doctor’s visit, my nephew unconsciously learned a valuable life lesson.  No pain, no gain.  He realized that in order to get at the Holy Grail, the Disney bandage, he was going to have to experience a bit of pain.  He’s four.

On the other hand, most men have lost that life lesson; perhaps in our dealings with them, ladies.  See, men will just demand a box of Disney bandages and, before you know it, will have those Disney characters plastered on every square inch of their bodies.  They’ll even leave the wrappers and the empty box for you to clean up.  Meanwhile, back at the ranch, we’re all salty cause the bastards have wasted all those good bandages without a wound in sight.  The lesson for us is that we have to select a man who still has some understanding that those Disney bandages make you feel better after you’ve experienced some pain in the relationships.  That’s what they’re for.  Our relationships are meant to build our character and sometimes all that growth can hurt.  But those Disney bandages, like love, cover those wounds until they heal and get stronger.  Modern science tells us that when a wound heals, the new skin covering the would is stronger than the original skin that was damaged.

Alternatively, you can stab him 50-60 times with a butter knife.  Then, you won’t think he’s such an asshole for wasting all those damn bandages.