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When the Village Voice published an interview with Jim DeRogatis, a journalist who covered the R. Kelly child pornography case,  I didn't want to read it.  I assumed that the article would highlight Kelly as the victim.  You know, the victim of these children or even better these fast girls .  To my surprise, it was the opposite.  DeRogatis gave us a peek into how deep the psychosis goes for Robert.  I'll just say it.  He's a sick person.  Prior to reading the article. I did look at his video called Cookie because this was the return of Kels .  Its not different than most R&B videos.  Women walking around in maid uniforms with garters. They are all there for Kels.  He begins to sing.   Cookie, cookie, cookie, I'm a cookie monster Break your back, crack it open like a lobster Ayyy, I kill the p_y, dig a (grave) She grab the wood like grippin (grain) I told her put it in my face Let it rain, let it rain (rain) There's a reference or two to Oreos and

The devil inside of me tries to survive.  Its passionate about its survival. I am a host. Fears. Abuse. Delusion. Sadness. The devil inside of me has no fear of me. I allow it to live. Its a familiar monster. I know its face. I know how it moves. I know what it wants. I want it dead. My devil as a name. Bulimia was its name first. It has become emotional eating or Binge Eating Disorder . I can't lie about it. Its a battle as any addiction. I wake up and ask myself how will I battle this devil today and it runs thought through my mind functioning like a bullet in a barrel. I've lived with this disorder for 20 years. I'm still not "cured".  This is work for me. This work has many battles to win before the war is over. Addressing past abuse, fears, and hurt is in progress.  Feelings and emotions swarm around me as if to temped each new coping skill.  That's that devil, Tricky Tricky devil. I fail at times. Sometimes I do win but this battle is tiresom

My beauty isn't up for debate or suggestion I'm fly I'm fly because I was made in the image of flyness My momma - fly Daddy too Can you question the flyness of the Creator? My lips, eyes, hips perfectly made all you can do is admire My beauty isn't up for debate or criticism I'm dope I'm dope because I was made in the image of dopeness My speak, my flow, my way is undeniably fresh

I have been single for about 8 years.  That doesn't mean haven't gone out on a date or a few or that I haven't had sex. It means that I haven't committed myself to a relationship in a long time. Most of this time my focus was working and raising my daughter.  Some would say that I'm one of those single Black women who finds herself single and in her 40's. They would say that I've been too focused on my career and too picky. We know the conversation.  We know the long cry of the single, Black, and female.  I've had my conversations with men who ask, "What is wrong with you?"  What is wrong with me? hmmm...... I'm oddly traditional or old fashioned.  I don't approach men. I don't flirt very well at all. I acknowledge that I can't read the "signals" if someone is interested.  Maybe, this is why I'm single. (Kanye shrug)   In all of my dating angst, I do know that I'm ready, now, to experience the magical

In talking with one of my friends last night, she mentioned my focus on my happiness and self-care. All I know, I will not repeat the past and I have to have the courage to deal with and heal from my own darkness. Nothing or no one will stop this process. I deserve the beauty of my Spirit to shine and for life to embrace me like a mother's hug. I sincerely move in a philosophy that freedom is mine and that I must be fearless.  I will never overcome my past in I'm living currently with fear and bitterness.  I must apply my beliefs, my speak, my talk to my own life. Truth to power, truth to movement, and truth to happiness is the way. Its never about perfection but a love of self that is unmoved even when challenged. I give myself permission to be happy. When I decided that my life will be different and I will be happy, I developed what I call my "freedom plan".  I had to have action steps to regain my happiness.  I'm honest . I was/am h

I remember when I was unemployed, my mom just passed, & a 7yr relationship ended, I lost HOPE. I looked up the definition & meditated on it. I posted the definition on a board and anytime I was sadden, I looked at the definition - HOPE. We have to take control even in darkness. Doing that was the way to cope with my circumstances in the best possible way. Doesn't mean I was healed but I wasn't destructive. At some point in my life, I learned that I'm responsible for my emotions and my responses to life's ups and downs. What we see is that this isn't the norm. We are reactionary and believe others hold the key to our happiness and peace.  Our culture preaches that peace, success, and happiness come from external things and from people. Be reprogrammed and believe you have Hope. Hope springs eternal in the human breast; Man never is, but always to be blessed: The soul, uneasy and confined from home, Rests and expatiates in a life to come.   –

Let me begin by saying that I wasn't raised in the Black Church. Its something that continues to keep me in a weird space of my own black identity. I understand the historical context of the Black Church and its importance to social justice issues of the past and some believe, the present.  Anytime I attend any workshop, seminar, or panel discussion about the role of the Black Church in improving any aspect of the black experience, my participation comes with both a level of respect and skepticism. Coming from the Catholic world of sexism, I have sharpened my eye to the role of women in religious settings.  As a teen, I was told that I could not participate in the role of the "alter boy" because, well, I'm not a boy.  My eyes were opened to how my vagina has its place and needs to stay there because God said so. Luckily, I never connected the treatment of women by religious institutions to my own beliefs. God isn't human and I can easily separate the two. I n

Its amazing how my mind continues to play tricks on me. It juggles my sanity as if in a circus, tossing each thought, each feeling about and around.  I assumed my healing would be swift. I arrogantly felt that I will be fine after my 10 EAP sessions would be over.  I want to move to a healed state. Its in my mental illness where I think I can't still move through some aspects of life with a healthy view while still in therapy.  I have to have one or the other.  Therapy or no therapy.  I have to accept that I maybe in therapy for the rest of my life on some level.  I will have to be purposed in my healing.  Rejection is a big deal for me. It crushes my spirit instantly. Its a high functioning weapon against me.  It stops me in my tracks.  Its the demon I need exorcized. where's the holy water?

One of the most challenging things in life is parenting.  It has challenged every essence of my being. Let me first say that I love my daughter. I love her humor and her laugh.  I love talking to her about random stuff.  We've had conversations, situations, and events happen within our walls that no on knows about but us. That's a typical family.  They're not secrets but just life.  I've parented to the best of my abilities. She had chores, she was disciplined but Syd wasn't a problem child. She didn't back talk. She did what she was told for the most part. [She is still a human child.]  As a young adult, we've had some issues. Its been very challenging.  I'm not going to talk about the specifics of our issues but the responses from "outsiders" offering up their opinions. First, I know there are many who care about me and The Kid. That's not the issue. Its the judgement. I've had people imply I've exaggerated  certain things.

My heart aches for the family of Trayvon Martin. I've thought of my grandson and I've offered multiple kisses and extra hugs. There was  moment when I then questioned how sexism has creeped its way into my psyche. I've only briefly thought about my daughter and her blackness and her safety.  I haven't thought about - what if Trayvon was a black female and what impact that would have if Trayvon was my daughter.  Could this happen to her?  Would she be heard?  What scares me is that these questions were secondary to my fear of what this world would be for my grand SON.  My thoughts of how racism would impact my grandson and not my daughter speaks volumes to how we talk about the issue.  I've been conditioned to think this way. Black women and girls have to overcome both racism and sexism without fanfare or acknowledgement.  Affirmations of our victimization rarely comes.  Just to say that we have been victimized goes against the mantra of the "strong black wom

Acceptance without judgement is where my journey is taking me. Who I am is good and works for me.  I'm enough.

Today, I went to the doctor's office and patiently waiting for him to come in with my results.  Testing for this mysterious illness began last year with getting my gall bladder tested.  I actually prayed for a result, an outcome, a diagnosis.  Who does that? Who prays for a diagnosis? Rhonda does.  I'm tired of feeling poorly.  I'm ready for healing. Doctor walks in and says - "We found nothing!"   I believe he thought I would say YAY!!  Instead, I cried.  My doctor is one of those to the point types.  He didn't get emotional with me which was for the best.  He said, "We'll figure this out."   I made him read everything.  Gluclose. Thyroid, and all the other tests - all normal, all GREAT , actually.  I'm really healthy.  So what is wrong with me?  I asked him about stress.  I asked him to repeat what gastritis really means.  The doc reminded me that chronic stress can reap havoc on your body. But he was determined to get a diagnosis

Its been so long since I've blogged on this site. Once again, I've taken a break from my public blogging in exchange for my private journal.  The past two years have challenged me. My inner strength feels weaken.  I actually don't feel like myself but in truth, I haven't felt like myself in a long time.  I won't say much about specific experiences during this past couple of years but let's just say I've never been so faced or challenged to address my own mental health.  I've always been keenly aware of my emotions due to my bulimia.  I thought I was operating in a balanced existence.  I thought I was honestly facing the internal battles that plagued my soul.  I wasn't.  My spirit has labored.  My mind drained.  My body damaged.  I was doing the opposite.  I've used my work as an escape for my sadness.  I didn't allow myself to FEEL during these past couple of years. I wanted to get to the solutions and move forward.  I wanted to move in

I have truly gotten away from my blog. I've stopped it completely. I allowed time to get a way from me but I believe I need to get back to it.  My journey, like most journeys, has moved on like a storyline from a Charles Dickens book or maybe some Edgar Allan Poe poem. I'm not quite sure just yet.  My growth is steady. My stubbornness has continued.  Acceptance is key to facing what is real and to walk in freedom.  I can't be free without an examination of self. I can't be free if I don't recognize the messes.  I can't be free if I don't admit to flaws.  I'm moving and living but I've still not arrived at the place of peace I know I need to be. Gratitude will get me there.  The Blessings of God and his/her Universe are around me and I must recognize it all, in whatever shape or size.  I am Free and even more so, I am Blessed.  Gratitude must live in my heart at all times.  So, will I return to my blog? Yes.  I think its necessary.  I still hav