womenreadaboutthemselvesincolor:
The sensation of being so uncomfortable, you would give a ghost your skin.
life:
The regal Ella Fitzgerald, backstage before singing at a “Birthday Salute” in honor of JFK at Madison Square Garden, New York, May 19, 1962.
See more photos here.
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“One day I want to dive in and drift, legs and arms wracked with danger. Like a dark star. I want to last.” — Tracy K. Smith (Duende)
this.
Do you feel that you need to be accepted?
No. I don’t need to be accepted, but rather…left alone. It’s like in order for me to function, to be myself, I need to be left alone. I need for anyone and everyone to not expect what I may or may not do. I don’t want you to have any idea of how I will or should express myself to you. I just want you to take it as it comes. I read this story about a woman with this mental disorder, though she said it was what folks called “bad nerves”. She had to leave her husband and live in this place where she could control certain things. Sounds. Colors. Touch. Her husband sent her flowers every week, but the nurse had to give them to someone else. He would visit and want to touch her, talk while looking directly at her, still not understanding that these things disturbed her. They unraveled her. I don’t necessarily need to control things like that, but I need for my space to not be disturbed by someone else’s idea of me. This is it. What you see is what you get. What I give is what I have. There’s no need for an idea.
It’s like we want everyone to be themselves, truely, uniquely themselves, but we also want them to be just like us.
Right. Like, I love you. I think you are wonderful. I see you as an individual and there is a connection that I would like to dive into. Still, there are conditions. I want you to give what I want you to give. That doesn’t make sense.
That still comes down to acceptance. You want your way of expression to be accepted.
No. It doesn’t have to be accepted. Reject it if you want to. When I love you, of course I want to give you what you need. Yes, I want to give you what you want, but it must be in my way. It must be from me. What you do with it is up to you. It is hard to explain. The neurosis has a rambling voice.
What if your expression of love isn’t fit or made for that person?
I can’t love you or even like you in a way that is made up of your expectations. Some people might. I can’t. It unravels me. And if I am constantly doing what you would do or doing what you expect me to do, then when can I be myself? When do I give you what I have?
What if your love is negative?
Then it ain’t love.
What if it hurts?
I don’t believe love ever hurts. There has to be something before or after that causes that hurt. Loss. Failure. Something. It is hard to explain. I am a neurotic. I do not have words for these things.
(so, i’m gonna break the rules and not tag anyone or make any new questions)
(also, i love sasha b. > http://thisisshe.tumblr.com/ )
QUESTIONS:
1. When you’re old, you’ll be “that” old lady/man who…
sits in the window all day long (unless my stories are on) humming “i’m goin up a yonder” or yelling at the kids to stay outta my roses. and of course i’ll have flour on my dress because i’ll always be baking something.
2. Lyrics you butchered as a kid? (ie., when i was little i thought it was ‘people at the bus stop, don’t stop ‘til you get enough’ and ‘don’t go, Jason Waterfalls’).
i can’t think of any lyrics i butchered at the moment. i think i knew too many lyrics by heart. i got a switch to my behind for singing “Freak Me”. and Adina Howard got me in trouble too. “i got you shook up on your knees cause it’s all about the dog in meeeeeee”
3. What was your worst subject in school?
algebra. i failed. twice.
4. The last thing you bought and wish you hadn’t?
another pack of virginia slims. quitting is easy til it ain’t.
5. If they erected a sculpture in your likeness, where would it be? What would you have done to deserve it?
i don’t think i would ever want a sculpture. what would be the purpose?
6. A word or phrase you use on a daily basis?
son of a biscuit! & gravy! (i’m not supposed to curse at work. so, i say this every 2.5 seconds)
7. Something someone told you about the “real” world that you’ve since found to be total hullaballoo.
hmmm….this is a tough question. i really believed there was a certain timeline to everyone’s life. i kept hearing “by this age, you’ll do this” & “by that age, you should have this”. good grades = dream career. in college, you’ll meet the person you will marry. you’ll graduate, buy a house, and have kids. save for a rainy day, go to church, die happy. people kept feeding me this timeline (i witnessed it too) and when none of this shit happened, it felt like a kick in the stomach and a slap to the face. but i’ve learned that i don’t need a timeline. also, what’s familiar may not necessarily be right. and you have to find the power in being lost. you have to understand that while you’re standing in the middle of nowhere, confused, angry, possibly bitter, you have the power to choose. in that moment, you can choose a new direction made for who you are right now.
8. What is the song that makes you reminisce about a particularly good time in your life?
http://youtu.be/N6zP7nnp-5I Back & Forth by Aaliyah, when i was young, unafraid of skinning my knees, & practicing dance routines in the living room with my cousin. you know when you still thought the world was big, and yes, you wanted to see it, but all you really needed was the front porch? mhm. then.
9. How do you show your love?
i’ll write for you, or to you.
10. You would be willing to get lost in this town/state/or country.
i’d love to get lost everywhere. but right now, i’m quite fascinated with Mozambique.
11. If all your dreams were realized tomorrow, who/what then would be your motivation for getting up in the morning?
i’d get up for the next generation, our children. i’d get up simply because i could. there’s always another dream. there’s always more work ——> ”don’t leave the arena to the fools”-toni cade bambara
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“
Living wasn’t easy for you was it?
But why the escape hatch? Why was it always opened ——- to get away from the remarkable you?
” — Katharine Hepburn (from her letter to Spencer Tracy, over 20 yrs after his death)
Vintage Pic: Josephine Baker being celebrated in Harlem.
Josephine Baker Day
Sunday, May 20th, 1951
Photo by Carl Van Vecthen
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“You have to learn to get up from the table when LOVE is no longer being served.” — Nina Simone (via brianbitch)
(Source: brianbees, via noldarling)
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i try SO hard not to judge people who read those books…but i’m always…just thinkin go watch porn or something and pick up a REAL novel…no disrespect to those writers…but i 100% feel u lol
i do too. i REALLY try not to judge. because i understand that you have choice. you can read whatever you want to. & you may have a preference. you may want those characters and those plots. and i get that those authors have found their place and will write whatever it takes to stay there. i also get that you may have no idea what literature is and have no interest in finding out. i get it.
BUT. don’t come up to the black girl working in the bookstore and assume she reads “ghetto books”. don’t even assume she knows what they are or who writes them. hell, don’t even walk into a bookstore asking for “ghetto books” because it’s wack and you will annoy the people who work there.
Her: Excuse me?
Me: Yes?
Her: Do you work here?
Me: Mhm.
Her: Do you have a black section?
Me: We have an African American Studies section. Other than that, Fiction is by author’s last name. Non-fiction is by subject. Can I help you find something?
Her: I like those ghetto books. *laughs*
Me: …..
Her: You know, like True to the Game. Hood Lovin’. Do y’all even have Zane?
Me: Oh. I recycle all of those.
Her: ……
Me: But there’s a Walmart right down the street.
please. step out of that small, limited box. terribly written. IT IS THE SAME STORY WITH DIFFERENT NAMES. and those glossy covers of sistahs in bikini tops holding twenty singles. i can recommend something. i promise i can help you find AT LEAST ONE author you will like who is not writing an “urban tale of sex, money, and mayhem”. please, just let me help you.
no? well, in the wonderful world of used bookstores, we can actually choose what’s put out on the shelf. so yes, i recycle all of that shit. that’s me laughing like a mad woman out by the dumpsters.
— girl, don’t grow up to let your bones ache like mine. Rest, sleep & give time to dream. You don’t need to throw rose petals in the bathtub in order to get the good soak, but buy some Epson Salts and make time for love. With your girls, with the person who captures your heart (& then sets it free), with family. Make sure you savor your food and don’t swallow it in one fast breath. Tell people the word no real loud, practice using your voice as if it’s an echo through a cave. You might have to stand in the bathtub and yell it into a towel just to get the feel of it around your mouth. NO. Its a hard word to get used to.
Let me tell you a secret: if you turn your phone off, the world won’t stop. If someone makes you feel like it will, don’t answer their calls anyway.
Travel and don’t give a shit about what you wear on your body— be lost.
Hide underneath your life as if you’re sitting on the bottom of a swimming pool.
Don’t lie. Just don’t.
Try to touch the earth every now & then. Concrete will kill your spirit.
Don’t listen too much to the chatter. Those loudmouths never really be sayin’ nothin’ anyway.
The internet is fake. Don’t trust anything too much that you can’t touch with your own hands, that you can’t hold.