I HAVE TO SAY it is good … no it’s GREAT to be back! writing that is. i recently read a post from the feminist collective talking about not reading for pleasure as we grow up. i have had the opposite problem, doing nothing but reading for pleasure! but allowing my writing to become nonexistent. I blogged, ranted, cursed and told it like it was! i was part of several activist collectives, and monthly writing blogs, and internet columns…all while writing a book on my family history.
And then I fell in love, for real.
And got pregnant.
And got married.
In that order.
Now I have two children, eight years has passed, and two months after having my daughter, I feel this … urge to go back to myself. i really felt like i kinda lost myself along the way. checking out blogs from folks like new black man (exile) and queer black feminist had me all nostalgic. oh, and that history book? not done! even though i participate in nanowrimo every year lol. well, halfheartedly participate. although it was halfway done and that is a whole other post.
anyway, back on topic…
which i will do alot, bcz i tend to have lots of mental mind leaps that seem to go everywhere, but i promise they all link to one another.
while reading black feminist’s blog, the nostalgia hit me very hard, because she lives and describes my hometown, the bay area. and i miss it so. it is in my blood, and helped make me the mad ranter i am. and it just hit me…i live in the south, living in indignance at the oft-times purposeful ignorance of those around, and i miss living in a place where the norm is tolerance, and activism and education, even when you are hood as all get out! i love cali’s mixture of ghetto intelligence. and i’m just not getting that here in the south. i do live in a major city, that likes to think of itself as progressive for it’s state. but in real life, it just wears a slightly tolerant mask, that flys off instantly any time racial or financial cages are rattled.
damn, i miss california. especially berkeley and oakland. the berkeley flea market. macarthur bart station where i bought my incense and issey miyake oil from the dreded dude that hung out there. there is no good vibrations here! no spengers! no telegraph street! no amoeba music, no annapurna, no marsh nxt to the fwy, no buffalo exchange, no embarcadero, no sf sourdough co with clam chowder in a bread bowl in the foggy mist while my hair poofs out…
ok i’m done complaining.
anyway, having a daughter has made me feel some kinda way for real. my son was a miracle birth, and she is the miracle baby. we had some complications, but she came through it like nothing was ever wrong. although the daddy’s girl syndrome has already started with a vengeance (yes i am totally jealous), i see myself. i see all my hopes and dreams inside this tiny opinionated infant like looking in a mirror. i want her to be whatever she wants, dont get me wrong; i dnt wnt to push my ambitions onto her. but looking at her, i see all the things i wanted for myself as still possible. If i could have this beautiful miracle baby, i CAN do everything i always wanted. i don’t have to be stuck in this life of average job with average expectations. i want more. i am more. i always have been, but i dropped all those things that i am trying to be what i thought i should be. the working mother took over the angry activist who railed against injustice in person and all over the page and internet. i tried to be the good obedient wife to the detriment of my own needs…not that my husband wanted that…i was just overdoing what i thought i was supposed to do in that role. isnt that what us black women do historically? save the world and neglect ourselves?
done doing that.
i didnt make any ny resolutions, and am still not going to. but i am writing again! thank you God! from this, many things will spring. first, i have made a place to make myself heard, to tell the world (even if no one is listening actively) how i feel and what i think. that is something i have always wanted, to be heard and to be engaged in debate and conversation. so now that i’m writing again, i can extend blog posts into that book. and move back into activism in the real world, where black girls are in dire straits, and black boys are dying everyday.
i feel so happy and hopeful.
see what a few words can do? lol
i will start the real posts next.
1st topic: Turnstyle Taylor Swift. WOOO!