I think I’ve re-injured my ankle. I can’t even begin to tell you how traumatic this is for me. Last year, after 31 years of being an able bodied, “clumsy, yet never been hurt or ever felt my weight even though I’m obese” person, I fell and severely sprained my ankle. This injury changed my life. For the first time, ever, I felt my body when I walked. Suddenly, my lack of athleticism mattered, because I was at the mercy of my own clumsiness, often having to painfully catch myself on the crutches before tripping. And, almost immediately, every ill advised eating decision I ever made literally weighed on me as I shuffled uncomfortably along on crutches. Basically, I was all fucked up. And now, there’s a chance I’m right back where I started. Heaven help me. PIMP DOWN!!!
Oh, and to add insult to injury, It hurt so bad to walk in my works shoes that once I was dressed in my blue and orange work outfit, I realized I had no choice but to put on my red and teal New Balance. Walked into work looking like a color blind clown.
Have you stopped reading about politics yet? I have. My anxiety was through the roof, so I’m taking a break this week. I really can’t allow something that won’t affect my bottom line to paralyze my senses, because you’d better believe that whether we have a Trump or Clinton presidency, I’M GONE BE ALRIGHT! The grind does not take a seat to politics. The hustle doesn’t stop on Capital Hill. My ambition is not built on the back of a politician. Better ask Kendrick about me!
If I had a daughter, I’d want her to be better than me. Smarter, nicer, healthier, thinner, more successful and far more creative. I’d want Shaquea Jr., to rule the world! But what if she didn’t rule anything? What if she turned out subpar and not nearly as bright or as creative as myself? What then? Would I love her any less? Would I no longer look at her and hope for the very best of everything? My first mind says that I’d be as critical and judgmental as everyone else’s mom, which is depressing, and further encourages me not to have kids. However, if I could be better, I’d really want to. And whether my daughter grew to be president, the class clown, or the damn campus hoe, I’d just want to love her and give her space to figure it all out, because I’M SO DAMN TIRED of respectability politics. DO YOU SHAQUEA JR!
Speaking of respectability politics, have you read Damon Young’s article “4 Beloved Contemporary Classics That Would Be Hated if They Came Out Today” this week? He was so on point, all I could was but nod along in agreement while feeling old as hell. I mean, yes, Darius was a total stalker by today’s standards, but back then his actions weren’t entirely sketchy. There was a time before Facebook when a person with good intentions had to get creative. I still remember losing contact with people just because I didn’t have their phone number. Now, most are just a Facebook message away.This world has changed so much, so fast. And don’t get me started on The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill. I swear “Doo Wop (That Thing)” is one of the most judgmental songs about black women, ever. In just the FIRST verse, we’re chastised (slut shamed) for having a one-night stand, admonished for not adhering to religion, and even shamed for getting our hair straightened. Basically, Lauryn straight eviscerates us while we just sing along! Now don’t get me wrong: I’m not saying you have to give up her album. It’s still a classic, Doo Wop is still “that jam,” and no one can replace what Lauryn meant to us then. I’m just with Damon and saying times have changed now … for the better!
And on that note, I’ll let you jam out to Doo Wop. I mean, just because she wasn’t entirely right, don’t mean this song ain’t aight!