Thursday, April 28, 2011
I just came back from vacationing in Atlanta with my family for the week. One of my closest friends got married and my birthday was also this past weekend. It afforded me the perfect opportunity to get away and spend time with family and friends. A huge part of my family lives there and I used to as well. I moved back to New York about five years ago and as much as things have changed, they've stayed the same. I felt like I was in one of those movies where the protagonist comes home from the big city and everything is the same. It feels like they never left. They get together with old friends, dine at old faves, drive down familiar roads, and visit old haunts. I stayed at my father's home and every time I pulled up, I felt like the 19 year old girl who was intimidated by the house and the father in it. It's interesting that although years pass, some things stay with you. In this instance, the dichotomy between love and boundaries.
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Let me start by saying this: I'm A G.
You may laugh and some may disagree but that would depend on their definition of the term. After a quick jump over to the urban dictionary, in an effort to find the technical hood definition (if there is such a thing), I found that a G can be defined as a Gangsta, or as a term of endearment. Of course gangsta has a negative connotation as perpetuated by movies like the Untouchables and the more relateable Boyz In The Hood. But keepin' it gangsta can also mean keepin' it real. Being a stand up person. Being G-enuine. That's the type of G I am. Self proclaimed. I don't carry a glock and I don't have a knot of bills in my pocket, but I like to think I have a stronger arsenal. One filled with ammunition such as integrity, candor, and humility.
These days we may see deceivingly assertive women like Evelyn Lozada of Basketball Wives and Nene Leakes of Real Housewives, that we may mistakenly characterize as gangsta. A loud mouth with an opinion and a vocabulary rich in profanity does not a gangsta make. In truth, most people familiar with those of the gangsta persuasion will tell you, real G's move in silence. An example being President Obama, when he was running for office up 'til now. His adversaries have a whole lot to say while he quietly executed a plan to literally rule the world. That's the type of G I wanna be. One who is strategic and calculated. Smart and educated. And one who ultimately wins (a la Charlie Sheen, a G in his own right some might say). Too bad the Brooklyn in me makes it hard to keep that other G down.
The one from Bed Stuy Do or Die who at times wants to just say, "All these b*tches is my sons".
Thursday, April 7, 2011
*Found this picture of Mashonda on Necole Bitchie after I wrote this and had to post it! This is exactly what I was talking about! SHE. IS. KILLIN'. EM. *cue Fab*
I want a pair of Loubies. AKA a pair of red bottoms. AKA a pair of shoes by designer Christian Louboutin, if you happened to be somewhere living comfortably under a rock. #imnotjudging. He can be equated to this decade's Manolo Blahnik. A pair of coveted Loubies are hard to come by if you're working class like myself, and living on your own in New York. Still and all, with all of those obstacles to consider, there are those ladies who have made it their business to acquire a pair of the hot shoes of the moment.
I don't envy those ladies. I respect them. I'm not talking women who sleep around for trinkets and gifts. Some might not even go that far but to even open up your mouth and ask someone for something that you can't afford yourself, rather than working hard to get it is not something I endorse. But a sister who's worked hard to be able to afford to treat herself and know she's worked hard for it, now that I can get with. Usually, if I see someone rocking them, and rocking them right, I have no problem saying, "Girl, you killin' them shoes", or something to that effect.
I saw a girl walking on the street a few days ago, and she had on some fly thigh high boots. I told her as much. She thanked me but I couldn't tell if she was being dry, or if she was genuinely stunned I'd paid her a compliment. It's sad that it's more surprising for another woman to compliment you, then it is for them to be sizing you up for something to use against you. Obviously it says more about the hater than the person who's being appraised, but I always wonder, are we that hard pressed for approval that we can't openly applaud someone when they've done something worth acknowledging?