Run-in With a Rasta

“What’s the meaning of your dreads,” a man asked in an accent I couldn’t place.

It’s a question I get all the time. But whenever the asker bears a foreign accent, it’s almost always a trick question. One that regardless of the reply, seems to be deemed faulty or frivolous.

Not that I don’t have my reasons. It is the manifestation of my Black pride, my finger in the face of everyone who denounces nappy hair something that must be flattened and otherwise altered to be acceptable. But most importantly, it is the ultimate commitment of the noncommittal woman.

The Swimming Lesson

The water is my friend. The water is my friend. The water is my. . .(Sigh).  I scurried away from the pool’s edge. No amount of chanting could convince me that the chlorine-laced water wasn’t waiting to swallow me into its depths.

Anxiety was heightened by the leftover liquor lingering in my veins. Who on Earth decides to enroll in a Saturday morning swimming class? Oh yea. . .me.

The (Accidental) Other Woman

“. . .Sitting in  a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g. First comes love. Then comes marriage. . .”

Sigh. If only it were that simple. Not that I care: I have officially placed my love life on hold, called a time-out, benched myself (I think you get my drift). My heart is still hurting from my last collision with love. Nope, not playing that game again for at least another few months. Instead, I’m whiling away the summer climbing, slowly but surely, towards my goals and dreams.

But as I revel in my new single status, I can’t help but notice an odd trend. Lately, I’ve been courted by men who appear every bit to be Mr. Right. They are charming, smart, kind, handsome. And wealthy. But they have one gigantic strike against them: They’re married.

Do We Hold Black Leaders Accountable?

A discussion with  a certain beloved political junkie sparked the idea for this post. You know who you are.

When news of the FBI raid on one of Dallas’ most prominent Black politicians hit the media airwaves, reactions were polarized. Some called it justice. Others deemed it racism. I dwell in between. I mean, the man has not been officially charged, a fact that both he and his lawyers stress. And his color may have made him a target. Yet, when a politically-connected friend called me to rant about how whether or not Price was innocent, the federal probe was just another manifestation of racism, I couldn’t believe it. Whether or not Price was guilty, whether or not he was corrupt, whether or not he was profiting on the backs of his Black constituents, the man is a victim?