Beautiful, Loved, and Blessed

I'm a Prince fan, but moreso his old music. He does have some newer joints that are solid though- like Incense & Candles, Cinnamon Girl, and Beautiful, Loved, and Blessed. 

Anyway, I wanted to let each and every one of you know that you are those things. You are BEAUTIFUL, LOVED, AND BLESSED. No matter what anyone else says, or doesn't say. I'm not one of those people who spend time dwelling on my "haters", because I'm far more concerned with my "lovers". Don't get me wrong- it's better to let your haters be your motivators than to sit around concerned about what negative energy your detractors are spouting out. However, accentuate the positive. Surround yourself with positive people and things. Put people in your life who are constantly motivating you to do better and to be better. No one who claims to love you should be hurting you, putting you down, or making you feel plain lousy. Also, beware of "frenemies". You know- the people who claim to be your friends but you find yourself in constant competition with them? Your friend should be the main one cheering you on when you achieve your goals- they should not be pointing out how things could have been so much better if you did XYZ. 

Be comfortable in your own skin. I'm the first to admit this wasn't always easy for me. Back in the day I constantly had to have someone around me. I couldn't stand to be alone even for an afternoon. I partied 6 nights a week just to be in the crowd. As I matured and began truly loving myself I quickly realized that with me is where I want to be. I now enjoy those brief moments of solitude where I can work out solutions in my head, or curl up with a good book. Or even veg out on the couch and clean out my dvr which is always at 90 something % full. Me time is critical! 

You may not be on the cover of Vogue, but you're beautiful. You may not have found "the one" yet, but you're loved by someone. And you may not be a millionaire- but you're blessed. You're beautiful because God molded you. You're loved because you love yourself. And you're blessed because you're alive reading this. 

-E.B.

Giving to the Needy or Being Played For a Fool?

I used to work for a non profit that helped needy people. But even before that I understood that if I wanted to help the needy I had to be sure to give in the appropriate place and time. So instead of handing a dollar to a homeless person why not get your organization to sponsor an meal for an entire shelter of homeless people? That way you know your dollars are going into filling the bellies of people who really need food- and not into the arm of a junkie. Are all homeless people on drugs? Of course not. But there is a better chance of your dollar doing the most good if you give to the organization that is set up to help. Besides, if the non profit is set up correctly they should be giving more than just food. They should be providing housing, rehab programs, job placement and other tools for transitioning from a life on the streets into self reliance.

The other day I was in Tallahassee dropping my youngest off at college. We had purchased a lot of her stuff in Miami, but some things needed to wait until we got to the school- like food. Whenever we wanted to hit a store we would plug the name into the gps and drive to the nearest location. In this instance we were looking for a Family Dollar. The closest one ended up being in a not so nice neighborhood. I'm never uncomfortable in those situations though. I'm from New York City, there isn't much that fazes me in that regard. But the minute I put my foot out the car a woman appeared out of nowhere. "Hello," she stated, locking eyes with me, clearly oblivious to my discomfort. "Hi," I said cautiously, being sure to check my surroundings to make sure she wasn't distracting me while something else was going on. My youngest was busy taking our purses from the car and securing the vehicle. When she was finished I remotely locked the doors to ensure the items we had just purchased from Wal-Mart, Bed Bath & Beyond, Target etc were safe. We started walking towards the Family Dollar. We didn't get two feet before the woman screamed "I need pads. I got my period." I shot a confused look at the woman. "Ok..." I mumbled. "You're not gonna help me out?" she demanded angrily. I gave the woman the illest mean mug from the depths of Bed Sty Brooklyn. Sensing that we were not the garden variety family who she could punk out of a few dollars, the woman took off. 

I was incensed. When did it become appropriate to announce in a parking lot that you have your period, and demand that strangers purchase sanitary napkins for you?! Seriously?! We have GOT to do better. This female was clearly not homeless. She was decently dressed. Her hair was done. If I remember correctly she had on sunglasses. I mean really? If she was that bad off any shelter in the city would have given her a care package if she spent the night. That would be far more dignified than trolling parking lots for help. Part of me believes she was making it up for money for drugs. Because I can't bring myself to believe that a woman would get her hair done, buy shades, do all these things and not have those items taken care of. Wow.

Then, on the way back to Miami, my car was running low on gas. I was in Broward county- but I was still too far from home to risk making it all the way to the house. So I came off the turnpike and hit the first gas station I passed which was some off brand Amerika gas or something. It was dark, so I looked around to check out the area before pumping my gas. I also always remove my keys from the ignition and lock my car doors when I pump gas. That way anyone trying to sneak on the other side to open the door to steal my purse or anything else while I'm distracted will be sadly deterred by a locked door. Think I'm paranoid? This happened to several of my friends- including my husband who actually had his car MOVED FROM THE PUMP while he went inside the pay for his gas. Anyway this man appeared out of nowhere and asked "Can you give me a half a tank of gas?" I looked at him like he was crazy. He proceeded to tell me that he had just dropped his sister off at a homeless shelter in Broward and he needed gas to get back to Miami. As he's talking he's inching closer and closer to me. I'd had enough and told him "Back up." Startled with my aggressive tone, he asked "Do you want to see what a brown recluse spider bite looks like?" and held out his arm as if I were going to come closer. When he saw I wasn't playing the game he was trying to play he disappeared as quickly as he appeared. I finished pumping my gas and high tailed it out of there.

From pads to half tanks of gas, people have no problem asking strangers for ridiculous items as if said strangers owe them a debt. I give generously to charity and work hundreds of community service hours yearly. It was mandatory that my children did as well. However, don't play me for a fool. I was born at night- not last night. If you see me, bypass with all that nonsense. If you are in Miami and you ask me for money or food I will hand you a card to the Miami HAC. There you will find three hots, a cot, a warm shower each night, job placement assistance, clothing, and other tools to help you help yourself. If you're not ready to take that step I will pray with you. But I will not hand over my hard earned so that you can line your pockets for a day of adventure. And no one will make me feel bad about that fact. I've been everything from a hungry broke college student, to a hot shot media maven with a combined household income of well into six figures, back down to an unemployed media maven who still had thousands of dollars of monthly household expenses and a fraction of my normal salary coming in. I had to make it work somehow- and for years I did just that. Without resorting to demanding things from strangers. It can be done! Everything else is just a sad excuse. //End Rant//

I Got The Power!

So many people are caught up in the struggle to gain power. They pursue power as if it were their lifes breath. And yet the reality of it is, there is no such thing as power. Only the perception of power. Absolute power absolutely does not exist.

I know you, my kinda faithful readers are shaking your heads while reading this blog. I know you guys are thinking I've fallen and bumped my noggin. But think about it. From your uptight boss, to your 8th period physics teacher to the state trooper giving you a ticket on the 95. None of those people have any real power. Everyone borrows clout from someone or something else. It may be the threat of being fired, or the risk of failing that big exam, or the $500 fine and points on your license that makes you submit to "authority". But at the end of the day your boss has a boss who has a boss who has a boss who reports to the board of directors who report to stockholders. Your teacher has a principal, who reports to the chancellor, who reports to the mayor who reports to the voters. The state trooper is a part of a bureaucracy that I won't even begin to break down. So in a nutshell, no one has any real power.

Then why do people toss their weight around as if their first name were Barack? Second name Obama? Maybe they're compensating for something missing in their lives. Maybe they get off on the perception of power. Maybe they are just truly evil cretins. Who can say? (It's interesting to note here that Mr. Obama may be the POTUS, but he can barely open an envelope without 38495950 Republicans jumping down his throat. Some power for the leader of the free world. But that's a whole nother topic.)

I'm not advocating cursing out your boss, flipping your teacher the bird or leading a state trooper on a 3 county high speed chase. No indeedy. What I'm saying is, don't be a jerk. If you are someone who is perceived as a person of power, don't abuse it. Don't trample on the little guy. Don't treat people as if they are beneath you. There's an old saying in the ruthless, cuththroat, go-getter lifestyle that is New York City Corporate America. It goes like this "The people you climb on to get to the top of the ladder will be the same ones you pass on the way down." So follow the golden rule. I know it's super trite but seriously, do unto others as you would have them do unto you.

Yes, I've had a crazy week with a bunch of crazy, power hungry individuals in different settings and all I have to say is you can't take it with you. We all serve a higher being, whether it's God, Yahweh, Allah or something that I won't even give space to in my blog. Know that you will have zero power when you meet that higher being. Simmer on that.

Kick The Truth to the Young Black Youth: Black teen STD rate needs our attention

Black teen STD rate needs our attention

By Yolanda Young

Once again, a study has found a wide gap between blacks and whites, and yet again the news is not good for African-Americans.

The latest study, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, shows that an alarming 48% of African-American girls ages 14-19 have a sexually transmitted disease, compared with 20% of young white and Mexican-American females. The CDC analyzed data on 838 female adolescents who participated in the 2003-04 National Health and Nutrition Examination Survey. The researchers found that black teens had far greater rates of common STDs, including human papillomavirus (HPV), chlamydia, herpes simplex virus and trichomoniasis.

Sadly, this is not a new trend.

Though this study did not include syphilis, gonorrhea or HIV because of their low prevalence in this age group, these diseases strike black women in later years at strikingly high rates. In 2006, the rate of chlamydia cases among black women was more than seven times that of white women; the gonorrhea rate among African-American women was 18 times greater than for whites; and the rate of syphilis cases in black women was 16 times higher than in white women.

Why the disparity?

* STDs are concentrated in poor, segregated neighborhoods.

* Sexuality of teens starts earlier and earlier, heightened by music lyrics and images on television.

* More than 20% of blacks are uninsured. So without access to health care, more blacks with STDs go untreated while the diseases are often undetected.

The significance of this problem can't be overstated, as STDs also can cause infertility and cervical cancer.

What can be done? The CDC suggests sex with an uninfected monogamous partner and habitual condom use. Abstinence, of course, is the surest way to avoid STDs.

But advice isn't enough. With incidence levels already high among young black women, more emphasis should be placed on STD screening, treatment, and vaccinations at health clinics where contraceptive services are also offered. Ultimately, we must reverse this trend of early sexual activity. The CDC suggests that sex education delays sexual activity among teens.

What else might influence girls? Father figures who affirm them and women who demonstrate responsible sexual behavior that girls could emulate. This is not science, just my opinion based on what I've seen.

But one thing we should all agree on is that this is an issue that blacks can't afford to ignore. We need more talking and less doing.

http://blogs.usatoday.com/oped/2008/04/black-teen-std.html

Family Ties

The older I get, the more I value my "blood ties".

Much as I am ashamed to admit it, as a teenager I shunned my family. I felt disconnected and wanted nothing more than to escape. My mother gave birth to me at a very young age and it shaped my views on the world around me- and not always in a positive way. I wasn't starving in the streets or anything like that. But I didn't have a Cosby type of childhood and I can't help but feel that if it wasn't for my grandparents my life would be the polar opposite of what it is now. I don't want to delve into details- but let's just say that teen parenthood, drugs and a short lifespan are just a few things that were at the end of the path that I would have been on had it not been for Miss Estelle and Mr. Cliff.

Fastforward to 2008. My grandfather is laying in a hospital bed fighting for his life. I am struggling to keep my sanity as the only real father figure I ever had withers away in front of my eyes. My kid sister who I vowed never to speak to again exactly two years ago has popped back up in our lives and the jury is still out on whether or not she can be trusted. My first cousin who has always been the shining white knight of the family has major chinks in his armor that is showing signs of rust. My fiancee doesn't have the luxury of a smooth, gradual transition into meeting my maternal family. He is thrust into face first- with all the drama, all the jockeying for power, all the animosity, the grudges- the EVERYTHING. The fact that he still wants my hand in marriage after that introduction into my family is... a miracle.

Yet through it all, I realize that family is the most important thing in the world to any of us. Instead of envying others it's dawning on me that it could be a lot worse. Though my mother would have never won any Mom of the Year awards- she didn't Caylee me and cut my life short before it even started. She did her best and I'm here. I am a good mother, a good fiancee and future wife. A fair and competent boss. A PHENOMENAL friend- even to those who don't deserve it. A spiritual woman who loves The Lord and doesn't let a day go by without connecting with Him in my own way. A wonderful though controlling family member to my relatives (I'm working on it). A solid, law abiding citizen when so many are out here getting theirs by any means necessary. Ok, I speed and break traffic laws but I don't litter, do drugs or steal. I volunteer on a regular basis, give to charity, vote, serve my jury duty, pay my taxes and haven't killed anyone. Yet.

So as 2008 comes to a close I want to thank my mother and father for making me. I want to thank my grandparents for raising me into a strong woman of color. I want to thank my neighbors and family for molding me and giving me character. Thanks to all my friends who offered a shoulder when I cried and a gave wake up calls when I wallowed in self pity. I hope 2009 finds my grandfather in much better health if it's in God's good graces and I vow to continue to work on self so that I become a better person not only for myself but for those around me- especially to the man that I will marry in less than 9 months.

Fork In The Road

A few months ago I watched a horrible straight to dvd movie with my fiancee called "Fork In The Road". It was produced by a Jamaican company and apparently gets a lot of love back in NY and in Jamaica. As a budding filmmaker I give props to anyone with the guts to get their work out there on the small or silver screens. But come on now. All I have to say is watch it. You'll be disappointed, but hey. It's cold out. You don't have anything else to do.

I digress. I feel like I'm at a crossroads in my life. After all the changes that came about in my life in 2007 I feel that 2009 needs to usher in even more CHANGE. Just call me Obama Girl out this bitch because it's gotta get better. I won't say it can't get any worse but GOD please give your child a break.

I know that with every life challenge I become stronger. I am a better person because of all the struggles I've been through. Like my cousin said on my wedding website. I'm a pearl. You have to get through the tough exterior to reach the beautiful jewel inside. It's deep down there somewhere. Not everyone can gain access though.

With that being said I know that I need to close some chapters in my life. Many people are taking up space in the prime real estate that is the pre-war Upper East Side condo called MY LIFE. Those people will soon come to find that I won't even entertain the them and all their petty BS anymore. Unless they've been fighting in Iraq, fighting for their life in a hospital or just plain fighting with themselves, everyone in my life knows that I have been through some MAJOR ish over the past month or so. Those who were there for me, thank you. I love you all very much and the blessings that I know God will rain on me in 09 will be yours as well. For those of you too caught up in your own melodramas to even notice that your girl was HURTING and that it took a lot for her to even reach out to you because she doesn't like to show chinks in her armor... You will find yourself on the other side of the locked door to my pre-war condo. Simply put, it's not all about you. And if you feel I'm talking about you, then I probably am.

I hit the road tomorrow, but I promise I will update more. My exploits in Miami are becoming legendary and I want to share. If nothing else this blog will be cathartic to me as I relieve some weight off my shoulders.

Til next time people. I know I lost many of you along the way because I suck I keeping this blog updated but again I'm working on it. :)

Great Escape #1: Whipping Post In Paradise

Welcome to your first Taste of a Great Escape! These quick blurbs will let my readers know something about my life experience that I hope will shed a little light on the enigma that is moi.

I don't I have a lot of readers yet (I hope to change that soon, so please pass the word along to your friends, enemies, friendemies, relatives, co-workers, loved ones, neighbors, hairdressers, nail techs, gardeners, dermatologists, personal trainers etc). But the few readers I do have so far (thank you!!!) have asked me about the red pole that is in my profile picture.


The "pole" is actually a whipping post. It is located at the Fort in Christiansted, which is in Saint Croix, which is in the United States Virgin Islands. One of my best friends in the whole wide world is from the beautiful island of Saint Croix. During one of my two trips to STX I was mesmerized by the beauty, lush vegetation, white sandy beaches and cornflower blue skies that are the islands main attractions. On the flip side I was horrified by the Fort. The evidence of the inhumane treatment of the slaves at the Fort was a stark contrast to the clear waters breaking against the perfect shore and the cotton candy clouds floating overhead on balmy tropical breezes. One thought kept pulsing through my mind- TERRIBLE BEAUTY.

Slavery wasn't just an American thing. Anywhere there were black and brown people in the "free world" there was also oppression and enslavement. I still feel claustrophobia when I think about the hot cinder box square that was used as a jail cell for hundreds of slaves. I am only 5 feet 5 inches tall and I had trouble standing up straight in the cell.

Even against a backdrop of an island dream horrific events can take place. That is why the whipping post is my profile picture. It is a reminder to me, and those who read my blog that all that glitters aint gold.