blog bouncing off my sisters' pages

A little gem found here while surfing around.
I've been reading and bouncing, reading and bouncing. Call it procrastination at this point because I do have a final project to turn in by Saturday night. I have been basking in do nothing bliss, but not completely. I still made dinner tonight and I still have been drafting lesson plans. But in the midst of all the blog chatter, I realize I am remarkably boring. Seriously. I am so lacking in drama. I'm really lacking depth when it comes to the nuances of the daily life. Yes, I go on and on about things. But do I really? Can I touch the nerve Bear Maiden or Funky Brown Chick does because they pour out..well, pretty much almost everything? It's insightful, personal and almost scary for me. Am I as open as this? All this blog surfing has me searching and cataloging my own blog, and even bringing down some of my posts because I fear I'm just overexposed.

But then, I start reading other blogs again. I realize that this is the nature of the beast. If you start censoring yourself, little gems of writing like the maiden's reflections on black history would be lost. The full blown truths behind being with a married man (*my initial response* oh my fuckin god, people blog about this?)Funky Brown Chick's threesome definitely needs to be blogged about because, well, its friggin tantalizing and fabulously interesting. But as she confesses, she admits feeling open and exposed. She's reached a point of saying (I paraphrase)"I don't want to talk about it anymore so stop asking about it."

My mother reads this blog. So does my father and I pretty much am certain my grandfather passed through once. Not that I care what he thinks. But what my mother thinks, um YEA. I care. Hell yea I care. I think the fact my daughter will read this one day makes me keep lots of the detail away. I started with details, I am now presently in a state of modesty.(stop laughing HiK). If I catalogued every lover's quarrel in this space, it would unfairly represent the good times, and the bad. I don't want to sugar coat marriage here. I really don't. But I don't want to debase it either. And then I feel strange. (as I'm reading other blogs by women of color) I feel guilty for being married. I feel like there are sisters out there struggling to no end and I'm holding the goods. I'm holding it hostage with my marriage license. I feel like I want to step up Obama's plea to black fathers, FUCKIN STEP UP!! I feel like my sisters are unfairly being dealt drama because of men just deciding not to hold their end of the + pregnancy test stick.

Unfair, unfair, unfair. I know the stories. I've been the stories. I'm sitting here checking his phone because I just want to be clear that he's not up to no good. I know he's here every night, but what about lunch? after work happy hours? weekend whatever-his-work-is-calling-him-to-do absences? I have those moments of worry. (Usually after reading some "the other lady" blog) But I don't talk (okay, blog) about it much. I'm at that space in time as the married woman going, what the fuck ladies, lay off. Taken. Leave it alone. That's when I get defensive.

And then I'm left to be just me. I don't stay in this world of obsessing over man, obsessing over the details or lack thereof. I leave it because I know I've got drama, but it's the least of me. This week for class, which I missed because ..., we were supposed to create collage biographies. I think I didn't go because I really knew it would be a very public battle with glue, pictures, objects and myself. I made one in the privacy of my own home. I'll fight the battle, but on my own turf on my own terms. I cannot possibly be critiqued on such a private representation of me. Not yet, at least. I think the people that know and love me understand, I may seem to bear it all, but in my mind the intricacies of me are locked private to analysis. Such critique may just flip me out.

But, truth is, I am online. I am visited by strangers and friends. People from my past spring up occasionally. Some a lovely reintroduction, others, hmm, not so much. I am praying that my actions are always safe and sound for my family. I am becoming an artist, but I've always been a writer. And I've been known to win awards and scholarships for sharing the deep dark passages of my life. But at this point in time, I fear becoming known for notorious posts vs....well, I don't even know. I want to show myself through this blog that I am a woman on her own terms, whether its candidness or discretion.

But at the end of the day, I'm am humbled and honored to be in this world of women, unafraid, intelligent, loving, strong....of color. We are all so unique. We can't be typecast into this ideal woman of color. We are all so amazingly different. But our struggles, even though different, sound so familiar. But not familiar enough that our voices can meld into one. And for that, I think, is why I'm here. To be a part of the voices that tend to be ignored in mass media, forced into quiet administrative roles. The voices that are rarely acknowledged as community and family leaders. Women of color. That's why I blog. I think some of our stories are just too real for people who don't face some of the things we face. For others, its a much needed outlet for understanding. But to me, adding to these voices speaks in some way for and to the little girls and boys that go missing that don't make it on CNN for a nationwide Amber Alert. The truly forgotten faces of color.

Our voices are getting louder. We are slowly, but surely, being heard across broader bandwidths.

I really didn't plan on going here with this post. But I did. A lovely little gem it has become.


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