Posts Tagged ‘professional Black women’


Sexy Amnesia

love questionI was watching a talk show earlier today and an interesting question on relationships came up. Would you prefer a relationship that was emotionally blah with amazing sex, or emotionally amazing with blah sex?

For me, this was a complicated question with no easy answer.

I mean, seriously, I can’t think of anything more stimulating than someone who listens and is actually interested in what I’m saying. Someone who recognizes that I, too, am out here making the bacon so willingly shares in all of the household responsibilities. Someone who understands that I may not come to bed looking like an airbrushed beauty but recognizes that this woman knows how to handle her business.  Someone who treats me like a true friend not just the girlfriend or wife.  Someone who knows how to carry himself like a man but isn’t afraid of the fact that I am a strong woman.

To me, that is emotionally erotic, and I would take that any day over many things. But since this is just my dream, a good dose of mind-blowing, freak nasty, push-your-wig-back-kinda-sex can be just what the doctor ordered to give me a good case of amnesia, have me sucking my thumb, and mumbling ““oooooooooh , I love me some him…what was the question again?”


Got an App for that?


I was crying the other day over how silly I felt for believing that if I treated someone with love and respect that I would receive the same in return. After listening intently to my woes, one of my closest girlfriends replied, “men are stupid. Do you think they have an App for that?” I cried laughing.

Sometimes all it takes is a listening ear and some straight talk from a true loved one to snap you out of a funk.


Unemployment Blues


I’ve heard stories of people who die once they retire. When I’d hear these stories, I would simply shake my head at the mystery behind this while regaling about how I’d travel the world footloose and fancy-free once I was no longer working. But, now, I think I have a better perspective on how a new retiree might feel. Of course, I’m nowhere near retirement age; last I checked, not many folks retire at age 25 (hush, I’ve stopped counting), but I am now one week into being unemployed and quite frankly I feel a little lost.

For a woman who once claimed to never have a dull moment, I seem to now have eight hours a day of just that. Of course, everyone around me is encouraging me to “take advantage” of the time I have off. Get a massage. Write. Do a little traveling. Even I am cheering myself along to do all of the things that I’ve complained I never had time to do. But, who am I fooling?

While I’m thrilled to spend extra time with my family, I want to work.

And, yes, I’ll admit that I’m happy (damn near ecstatic) to no longer be with my last firm, but I want to work.

I’m even more excited that I have free time to write, yet I’ve struggled with putting pen to paper and finger to keyboard this week. As a matter of fact, I had to force myself to sit down to write this. I simply want to work.

Maybe my husband is right. Perhaps I will look back upon this time when I’m working again and wish that I’d gotten that massage, wrote a little more, or took that much needed trip, but how can I do any of that if my mind is so consumed with work?


A Dose of Selfishness

Most of us attach negative thoughts to the word “selfish.” I’ve done it myself over the years. If a person thought about themselves first and foremost, I would call them selfish. These folks always manage to bring the focus back on them. Despite any concern you may wish to discuss, he or she always jumps in with a dose of themselves. Selfish.

I used to joke with my husband about his selfish ways when we first met. Whenever he started singing his version of Johnny Gill’s “My, My, My”, I would simply place my index finger in the center of the top of my head and twirl around. This was my demonstration to him that he was behaving as if the world revolved around him. It used to drive me insane. There I was running around like ”the sky is falling, the sky is falling,” and he would be focused on himself, smiling, and happy.


Twin Stranger

As far back as I remember, I recall tales about each person having a “twin” somewhere on this Earth. I’m not talking about an actual twin who you tangled with in the womb, swapped identities with “for fun,” or with whom you shared that special, biological connection. I’m not even talking about the celebrity that our over-inflated egos might have fooled us into thinking we resemble. No, I’m thinking of that random stranger that grandma used to say “looked just like Leroy” while shaking her head and humming Papa Was a Rollin’ Stone.

Most of us have been told we look just like so-and-so, only to see our lookalike, shake our heads, and question when folks last had their eyes checked. Oddly enough, I’ve been told that I bear a resemblance to Lauren Hill from the group The Refugees. Personally, I don’t see the resemblance but I’ll take it as a compliment, as long as we are referring to the pre-loony Lauren.

I don’t always believe these old wives’ tales, and would have easily dismissed this one, if I hadn’t met my own “twin” one day.


Love Tug of War

Relationships can be so darn complicated sometimes…who am I kidding, most times. Things can be going so smoothly, then bam! all of a sudden you’re flailing your arms and trying to untangle yourself from the cobwebs of life that you unsuspectingly walked into.

Just yesterday, a friend of mine was sharing her woes about a tangled romantic web that she’s caught in. For years, she’d be in a quiet, unassuming, unspoken, committed relationship with a man. Sounds complicated already, right? You see, although they live in separate homes and live separate lives, they share responsibilities and a very intimate bond. Not intimate in the romantic sense, but a connection that will never be torn. They have a child.

Sure, she loves him but not in the I-can’t-sleep-I-can’t-eat kind of way. More like in the way that happens to people who put love on auto-pilot. She’d put thoughts of love up on a shelf because she was too busy raising her daughter, building her business, and being a “friend.” She didn’t need romance; she had reliable. And, she was content with that…or, at least that was what she said.  

Until she walked smack dab into love.

All of a sudden she was glowing. Entering from stage left is the new guy – Prince Charming. He was attentive, caring, protective, and romantic. He looked, smelled, and acted like looooooove.

(Umph, umph, umph. Don’t you remember the feeling?)

He stirred things up in her that she didn’t realize she was missing, and all of a sudden that old Saltines cracker didn’t taste so good anymore. She wanted the Ritz.

Problem is that even the Ritz is just a cracker. Although Prince Charming had all of the qualities that appealed to her as a woman, he also brought a few unsavory elements to the equation. Jealousy. Control. Insecurity. That’s when a woman wants to just fall to her knees and say “Dayum, dayum, dayum!!! Where was this part in the Happily Ever After tales that momma used to read?!”

So now she finds herself in a love tug of war, mentally trying to weigh the pros and cons of each relationship. Should she stick with the ol’ reliable man who perhaps isn’t the most romantic but who she shares history and a child with? Or, should she go out on a limb and follow Prince Charming who might just be a Saltines in disguise?


Not a Gang!

Just the other day, a white colleague walked past a small group of three professional Black women (of which I was a part) and said cheerily “uh oh, looks like trouble.”

(Screeeeeeeeeech….music stops.)

Ok, let me just be the one to rip the Band-Aid off of this issue. I’m going to operate under the assumption that perhaps she (I’ll call her “the offender”) didn’t know that she was committing a serious wrong when she uttered those words. News flash — comments of this nature are generally offensive to many African Americans.

Why? Well, for one, I honestly cannot recall one single time during my professional career when this same comment has been made to a group of white colleagues congregating. We are not a gang. We are simply a group of professionals who have paused for a few moments from our rigorous schedules to catch up on life, work, or the latest episode of The Braxton’s. Whatever.

The point is that we should not feel as if we need to low crawl through the office or speak in code just to engage in the same conversations that are being shared by other non-minority employees. I can only hope that our Caucasian colleagues will peer through our darkened lenses to gain perspective on how this makes us feel. But, until then I recommend that we try some new tactics to turn the tide on issues like this.

When a fellow employee makes some non-filtered comment about more than two African Americans chatting, respond as follows:

  1. Look “the offender” dead in the eye, raise your closed fist in the air, and yell “Revolution!”;
  2. Start chanting in unison “Give us free!”; or
  3. Take a more peaceful approach and silently hum an old negro hymnal


Ideally, either of these actions might give him or her reason to pause the next time before stating aloud something that clearly should be kept under the white cloak in his or her head.