The Problem with Natural Black Hair


I lied… THERE IS NO PROBLEM!!! Do you see this gloriousness?!?! When I see pictures of a group of naturalistas I almost feel giddy. Because it is a beautiful sight. Hell, even when I see a crowd of black women with natural, relaxed, wigs, short, long, braids, afros, locs, etc, my heart swells with pride at the stunning variety.

In fact, if you think about it, if when we, as black women, see a group of stunning natural sistahs and are struck with pride, envy, and awe, imagine what those who aren’t black feel. Which is why there is a “problem” with natural hair.




They can lie all they want and say that natural hair is threatening, unruly, unprofessional, etc. What they’re really saying (especially after seeing beauty magazines try to copy our style, but with different names) is, “I’m so f*cking jealous of what you can do with your hair and pull it off so effortlessly. You’re hair is cool and trendy and unique and I can’t compete with that ish. So instead, I’m going to make you feel ugly and inferior.”

I’ve made it my life’s purpose to watch and pay attention to why people do what they do. I’m a writer and what motivates people is something I’ve always been interested in. So I notice these things. It won’t be true in every case, of course. But I’m telling you, more often than not, it is so very much about the jealousy.


If it wasn’t, folks wouldn’t try so hard to emulate what we do…

And for me, personally, I don’t care if you want to copy our style (aka culturally appropriate) as long as you:

  1. Don’t rename it to try and make it your own (That’s just rude and stealing) See: Cornrows [the real name] aka Boxer Braids [the bullsh*t made up name], Bantu Knots [the real name] aka Twisted Mini Buns [the bullsh*t made up name], so on and so forth
  2. When sh*t goes down and black people or any other races that you sample from, are treated poorly, get your ass up and fight along with us
  3. Don’t tell us that our hair is unacceptable at work or anywhere else for that matter and then wear the same style (just renamed) a minute later.

Because after all, imitation is the highest form of flattery. Just so long as you give credit where credit is due. And the credit goes to our maker who made us in his image and our creativity to manage what he gave us. Please, respect it.

And for the rest of us, let’s enjoy, revel, and be proud of what was given to us naturally. For it is beautiful.


***I do not own the rights to these photos.***

The Sex Whisperer


Recently, I’ve realized that I have a special calling… Sex Whisperer. *says in soft breathy voice*

Let me explain…

Being a woman who has openly and enthusiastically talked about sex since I was a senior in high school, talking to my friends about it every day at lunch, buying PlayGirl magazines, reading bodice-ripper novels and renting NC-17 or X-rated movies in secret once I turned 18; it’s no wonder I write about it for a living. As well as comfortable with the act itself.

Sex has always fascinated me. ALWAYS!!! I can’t remember a time I wasn’t curious about it. Because of that, I am a sexually open woman. I love to try new things to keep it spicy. When I learned what BDSM was, I was like “So that’s what’s wrong with me!” Not that there’s anything wrong with the lifestyle, but that I wanted a little pain with my pleasure and always thought I was strange because of it. It’s an amazing thing when you find your tribe. Though, keep in mind, I haven’t actually been able to get into the lifestyle as of yet.


Well, because for some odd reason I attract men who are prudes or sexually repressed due to the vanilla women they’ve been with. There’s nothing wrong with prudes or vanilla sex. I just prefer…more.

So anyway, these men that come into my life are dying inside to come out of their shell. Then here I am, outgoing, open-minded, and completely encouraging. And slowly, they emerge out of their shells like a butterfly coming out of a cocoon. Sometimes, not so slowly as they come barreling out like a bull out of a bullpen in their excitement. Doing things they’ve never done before. Enjoying sex in a way they haven’t be able to in a long time, if ever.

I am their Sex Whisperer.

They tell me what they’re interested in, almost embarrassed and I listen openly and am usually willing to give it a try. They become more vocal before, during, and after sex. I even make them feel more confident with praise and compliments. Sometimes they find fetishes that they like that they never knew or had the chance to enjoy.

I can see why so many relationships don’t work in regards to sex. People need to be more open about their wants and needs. Ladies, ask your man what he really wants and don’t turn your nose up when he tells you. Just hear him out. Maybe what he wants will be enjoyable for you too. Men, be honest about what you want because if you’re not upfront, you’ll seek it out somewhere else, which will hurt your partner.

And another thing ladies, let your freak flag fly. Stop worrying about what people will think about you. If you’re honest and they don’t like it and walk away, oh well. It’s their loss. You would’ve been miserable anyway. Don’t sexually repress yourself because of what society might think.

As for myself, can I just find a man who is already a freak and doesn’t need to be taught? A man who encourages, praises, and compliments me for a change? I love it and it makes me feel good to uplift a man, but can a sister get some of that in return?

I need some ass-smacking, foul-mouthed talking, neck-choking, rope-tying, flogger-welding, call me Sir Dominant in the bedroom and a sweetheart everywhere else. I got plenty of meat on my bones, I won’t break.

I’m sure he’s out there somewhere. Until then, I guess it’ll be my mission to heal these poor repressed souls.

Sidenote: I know that it’s not always about sex. It’s more about communication and a deep connection with your partner. I want just as much stimulation outside of the bedroom as I do in it. But for the sake of this post, it’s all about the sex. 😉

Hard Lessons Learned


August of 1997, I moved into my dorm at Southern Illinois University. That first weekend, I participated in all the freshman activities and bonded with the other students on my floor. Little did I know, that same weekend a boy that I had a huge crush on and dated one summer, died in a car accident. My mother called and told me the following weekend. I couldn’t believe it. Death at that age just seemed so unreal to me.

Stunned, I walked over to my suitemate’s room and told her and another guy about this tragedy. Do you know what she said? Let me tell you. She looked at me with cold soulless eyes and said, “Well, I guess you can’t f*ck him now, can you?”


The guy and I looked at each other in absolute shock. He kinda gave her the side-eye and then asked me if I was okay. Being the sweet, unconfrontational person that I was, I brushed it off and hoped that she’d just had a small stroke, which caused a glitch in her brain that would make her lash out and say something so cruel.


I really wish I knew about this sage advice back then, because that female, to-date, is one of the evilest people that I have ever met in my entire life. And honestly, almost every time I’ve met someone this Maya Angelou quote remains true.

Which brings me to the reason for this blog post.

I’ve heard this phrase since January 20th, by tons of people about our new Manchild-in-Chief, who shall not be named… “Just give him a chance.”

Uh… Why?

He showed us exactly who he was from Day 1 of announcing his plans to run for president. Even before that. Are y’all deaf? Are you blind? Did you get amnesia? Did you just wake up from a coma? Are you Rip Van Winkle and just woke up after a long ass nap?

Were you not there when stories about him stiffing working class people out of payment, who had worked for him? Did you really think his main concern would be you, the little guy after you heard that? Were you not there when it came out that his university scammed thousands of people out of money while fattening his pockets? Did you not think that since he has money deep in the Dakota Pipeline that he wouldn’t find a way to bypass the halt on it through sacred Native lands? Did you not know that his clothing line was made in China as well as that hideous red hat talking about ‘Make America Great Again’? Did you really think he’d suddenly have a change of heart and run out and get you jobs? When he talked about grabbing women’s pussies, walked through the dressing room of pageant contestants (underage as well) while they were undressed and rude enough not to show his own wife the simplest of courtesies, did that not give you at least a tiny indication of what he thinks about women? Now he’s signing papers, surrounded by equally douchy men, to get all up in our business and vaginas.

When he said he’d repeal the ACA, what did you think he was talking about? Oh, never mind, you thought the ACA and Obamacare were two separate things.

Did you not see his childish tweets about the media, hear him praise Putin, or cry orange tears when anyone criticized him? So how is it surprising that he’d try to silence the media or anyone else who may criticize him? Or when it looks as if Russia really was tampering with the election? Or that the very first press conference held under his administration was about the media pointing out (accurately) the ‘yuge’ difference in Obama’s inauguration and Orange Foolius’ inauguration, instead of something important.

And all that is just a fraction of the sh*tty man he has always been.

At no point, during the campaign or after the election has this Orange Beast shown that he is a decent human being. He’s shown that he is unwell. And that hasn’t changed one ounce since he rode down that elevator a year and a half ago.

Those of us with our very rights at stake saw it immediately. The only people who are telling the rest of us to give him a chance, seem to be people who are living a charmed and/or privileged life. Or in denial and don’t want to admit that the man they voted for was a catastrophic mistake. Trying to remain in this dream world of sugar plums and gum drops.

But y’all gonna learn soon. Just like I did in 1997 as a kid at college.

Too bad your foolhardy views and complacency as ADULTS will probably destroy lives and quite possibly our country or even the world.

Just remember… You were warned.

Happy New Year?

Hey, folks! Long time no see. I’m sorry I’ve been away and inconsistent for a while. I’ve been too flabbergasted with the changes this country is going through to even come up with anything truly coherent to write about.

Relationships? Meh.

Body image? Who cares?!

Trumpelthinskin? Don’t even get me started.

Anything I’d write would sound more like the ravings of a lunatic. Incoherent, spit-filled rants.

So instead, I’ve been trying to get my ducks in a row just in case this country goes to hell in a handbasket. I’m not above running to another country. Especially, considering I’ve wanted to move for years anyway. The election results just put a fire under my ass to get going.

Anyway, I have some trips planned this year and I pray that they revive my creativity. Hopefully, I’ll be able to write a fun travel segment.

Stay tuned…

Stay hopeful.

Seeking a Friend for the End of the World…



I haven’t published a blog post in quite some time because I honestly couldn’t form the words to explain how I have been feeling. Though there have been plenty of blogs and articles I’ve read recently where the writer articulated my feeling perfectly. So I’ll let them handle all that. I, on the other hand, wanted to rant and rave and scream and cry. I did a little bit of everything, except scream. But I was close.

Anyway, in the past three years, the last thing I’ve been too concerned with is finding a man. For the most part, I’ve been entirely too wrapped up in trying to further my writing career to worry about getting into a relationship. But lately, I’ve been feeling the loneliness and slight desperation of being single. I couldn’t really figure out why. And then it hit me.

I’ve been seeking a friend for the end of the world.

Never is it more imperative to be surrounded by love than when tragedy strikes or hard times are imminent. So as I watch Hitler the second coming, build his regime against all people that look like me and other minority groups, I swallow with real fear and look around for anyone to hold my hand…

There is no one.

Don’t get me wrong. I have my parents. But it’s just not the same. My dad needs to focus on protecting my mom and vice versa. They don’t need to be worried about me too. I need my own set of strong and sure arms to seek comfort in and to give comfort back. And I ain’t got it. That’s right. I used ain’t. It fits my mood and the current situation.

We are smack dab in the middle of cuffing season (the chilly time of year where people decide to couple up). But this time, we have more reason than ever to cuff ourselves to someone and for the long haul. All of our futures are unsure at the moment. We have no idea what’s to come. A second Civil War, WWIII, the start of the Hunger Games, nuclear winter, an even worse Great Depression or all of the above. So I say if you can find a pretty damn good person to cuff yourself to. Do it. Do it now!

As for myself… I’m taking applications.


 *Side note: I’ll even take a fellow single woman if nothing more than to team up for the apocalypse. Girl Scout training preferable. I’ve watched a lot of Bear Grylls, myself. I’m also pretty smart and resourceful.

He Loves Me… He Loves Me Not


Do you remember as a kid picking the vibrant petals off of a helpless flower in order to figure out if a boy loved you?

I do. I did it all the time. And I think it seriously f*cked with my head. Instead of saying, ‘he loves me, he loves me not’ we should’ve been saying, ‘do I love him, do I love him not?’

You see, I just had a small epiphany this morning. A sort of breakthrough, if you will.

I am currently, for the first time in years, in the hopes of dating someone. We don’t know each other yet, but there seems to be an attraction between us physically and I’m anxious to see if that attraction will go anywhere (mentally, intellectually, spiritually, etc). Now, as an expert overanalyzer, I have a habit of hoping and praying that whatever guy I’m interested in likes me. And shortly after waking up this morning I had to tell myself, “Wait a minute! How about I hope that I like him too!”

You see. I was so focused on wanting to be liked that I wasn’t focusing on how important it is for me to like him as well. It’s like, ‘Hold up! He has to impress me just as much as I have to impress him.” And I think focusing on being liked, is what gets us in trouble. It’s what gets us walked on and treated like yesterday’s leftovers.

The last guy I dated, who put a very bad taste in my mouth, walked all over me. I let him. All because I wanted him to love me. And when I look back, I barely even liked that dick stain. I was in love with someone that I didn’t even like. Or better put, I was in love with the idea of love. I was in love with the potential of this man, but not the man himself. And all because of my need to be liked/loved.

Don’t get me wrong. Of course, I want the person I’m feeling to like or love me. But I can’t lose sight of the fact that I’m an important part of this relationship or potential relationship too. Relationships are a two-way street.

It’s all about being present in the moment. If you’re off thinking about your future tiptoeing through the tulips in your wedding dress and him in his tux, him making you breakfast in bed, buying you flowers on Valentine’s Day, so on and so forth. You’ll be too busy in the present to pay attention to the fact that he’s eyeballing the waitress, asking you to foot the bill on the first date, burping rudely at the table, or only looking down your cleavage instead of in your eyes. That is how you fall in love with someone you don’t even like.

I think if everyone, woman or man, goes into a possible relationship with the thought of ‘I hope we like each other’ versus ‘I hope he/she likes me,’ our relationships would be off to a much better start.

Think about it.

***I do not own the rights to this photograph.


eLove: Not So Trendy in eBooks.

Sorry, I’ve been incognito for a while. I’ve written some posts, but none of them felt right to hit publish. Anywho, I’m back for now and armed with some thoughts. I’ve read quite a few of my peers’ novels recently and I noticed something that I want to speak on.
First, I want to point out that I’ve noticed that there has been a decline in romantic movies or RomComs over the past couple of years. A lot of things factor into the death of romance on the big screen, but I read one article, that I could not find to link here, that said a big reason for the decline is that Hollywood is having a hard time translating the new digital romance era. And it’s no wonder with the sad state relationships are in. All you have to do is go to a restaurant in the past couple of years since smartphones turned us into social dummies. To see adults out to dinner with the hypnotizing bluish white glow on their faces, that has turned them into digital zombies, as they focus on the bright screen of their phones, rather than on the company across from them.

Watching digital romance play out on social media is like watching a soap opera. ‘Single’ statuses turning into ‘In a Relationship’ to ‘It’s Complicated’ to ‘Single’ once more. Side Chicks and Side Dick (Is that a thing or did I just make it up?), Ghosting, Benching, deciphering cryptic texts and DMs or PMs in the new emoji hieroglyphics, navigating the Left and Right Swipes, Netflix and Chill, and Hookup Culture. UUUUUGH!!! Just thinking about it makes me want to punch something.

I’m sure somewhere Hollywood can come up with some clever RomCom that surrounds all this garbage and somehow make it cute. But when it comes to Romance novels and all of its sub-genres, I myself, as an author of Romance, am not writing eLove and I’m not seeing a whole lot of others doing it either. And the Romance genre seems to continue to thrive without a problem.

Now, I know I haven’t read every romance novel currently in circulation, but I’ve read enough to know that many of the heroines and heroes meet and communicate in a way that harkens back to the good old days. There’s barely any meet-cutes online or through dating apps. No communicating through Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, or Snapchat. It could be done and there may be a few out there who have already done it, but it sure isn’t popular. I think it has to do with women’s desire to have relationships back to the way it once was.

And besides, IT’S BORING! Who wants to read a novel where nothing happens in real life to the characters? That the hero and heroine only interact through their phones? I would throw my eReader at the wall if I had to read that malarkey.

I think Hollywood should take a cue from the authors of Romance and write stories about love the way they’ve always been told. There’s a whole audience out there that still wants to see a good old-fashioned love story. Lithium batteries not included.