Life Is Good

Last Monday I got home from the gym around 8:30pm. I peeled my soaking wet clothes off of my body and dumped them in my hamper (I'm a sweaty person.) and I took a steaming hot shower. After my shower, I wolfed down a bowl of spaghetti that was left over from Sunday evening and tucked myself in bed with my new book.  I realized then as I was picking up my Kindle that I was happy. I am completely satisfied with every aspect in my life and I don't recall the last time I've felt like that. Since the beginning of March I unknowingly made the decision to be an active participant in my life. For the past several years (probably since I ended high school), I felt that things have just happened to me. And they have, many things that have happened weren't in my control, there was no way I could stop the universe from doing its will. Instead, I chose to focus on the things that I could control. There were positives, I basically kicked undergrad in the balls. My grades were bomb.com (DEAN'S LIST) and I got myself in an Ivy for grad school. But there were also other things, I became obsessed with weave, makeup and clothing and I went through a million diets which basically meet that I tried to starve myself.

I guess I was exhausted after that, I kind of just spent the past three years floating around trying to figure out what the heck my life was. At first I had some direction, some sort of end goal in mind. I had to write a full ass thesis and finish my Masters degree, so I did that...but that didn't solve my issues.  I floated from job to job, the first I felt was a waste of life, the second left me anxiety riddled and nervous, and the last bored me to tears.  But life is way too short to just drift about floating, and this past spring I decided that I had more than enough. I was tired of just letting life happen to me. It just made me feel pissed off and pudgy (literally I had a gut).

In March I quit the New York Sports Club that I wasn't going to, (their customer service is absolute garbage anyway so there was no loss there) and I found  a tiny gym around the corner from my apartment. (Black owned!!!) So while I was busting my gut, I decided to try and find a job that I actually liked. I have come to the black ass conclusion that I cannot do a 9 to 5, certainly not one where I'm supposed to be 'helping others', I'm not the best with customer service. I've had three jobs in the last two years. I've done my job in each of those positions to the best of my ability. I've smiled, answered emails and put on my best white girl voice. And yet as time went on, as I trudged out into chilling winds and stifling heats morning after morning and week after week I could feel my soul dying. ( Listen I realize that I'm about as dramatic as possible). I finally started listening to my self, there was no reason to be somewhere if you don't want to be. I hated that I wasn't using my brain, I wasn't being challenged and that deflated any motivation that I had to do the things I love. It's strange I guess, I thrive best when I'm busy doing things I'm passionate about or at the very least doing things that force me to think.

So I went out and found me a job that I love. One that gives me a lot of control over my schedule, a job where I'm actually using my DEGREES in film studies and most importantly one where I don't have to deal with people day in a day out. It's really been a blessing. I get to write about the shows and films that I love and I get to attend screenings and events hopefully fine tuning my writing and getting better at it every day. For the first time in a long time I feel clear, that fogginess that had clogged my mind has dissipated into thin air. I walk around in touch with the world around me, joyful and happy and its more than anything I could have ever hoped for. If there is one thing that I have learned through all of this is that YOU really do know what's best for YOU. YOU don't need permission or opinions to go after your happiness, you simply need courage.

xoxoxo Chocolate Girl in the City xoxoxox

Image: Giphy

FEAR

I'm scared. Terrified actually of quite a lot of things. It used to be flying. The summer I graduated from high school, which coincidentally was the same summer my mother was first diagnosed with cancer; I developed a crippling fear of flying. This came out of nowhere. I'd been flying at least twice a year from before I could even walk.  And yet there I was, frantically praying to God and gripping my armrest as my stomach turned over and over during take-off and decent; even worse during turbulence. And suddenly just as quickly as that fear had gripped me, leaving me sweaty and exhausted at airport gates, it dissipated.  It evaporated and I soon discovered that there are far worse things than flying.

My mother was a bit overly cautious, which if I'm honest with myself is probably where I get my apprehension. Our safety was her highest priority (as it should be for any mother). However it often seemed ridiculous, like when she would sit in the car observing the street before getting out to enter the house. Once, during my teen years she forbade me from going into a certain neighborhood (there was a boy involved obviously.) I didn't much think of these things at the time other than to shake my head, or sigh in exasperation. And yet despite of everything, all of my rejections and eye rolls, my Mama's cautious nature has weaseled itself into my DNA. I thought about it the other evening as I walked home alone in the dark, keys in hand, eyes darting back and forth, iPod muted. Nonetheless, fear of the "boogieman" isn't what keeps me awake at night. Instead, its fear of judgement, fear of what other people think of me. I fear so deeply that I've made a wrong turn, that my thoughts and my decisions are poor choices or worse still, invalid.

Let me clarify. I'd like to think that I'm a very secure individual (def waaaayyy more than I was just a few years ago.) But then again, there is no manual to adulthood. Our world looks very different than it did even ten years ago. I suppose I'm always looking for someone else to validate my choices, to say that's a good move, or that's a smart plan. Instead, all I hear are the insecurities spinning around in my head. Admittedly, sometimes I give into those voices, telling me I have no clue what I'm doing (which I don 't), making me believe that I'll always be in this same spot because I lack the tools for growth. Those feelings that tell me that I am insignificant are what keep me awake at night. Some days it screams louder than others as I pace back in forth in my dark apartment in the middle of the night. Other times, its like a soft whisper in the wind as I move through my day.

Fear can cripple you if you give in to it. However, if you continue to press forward despite your trepidation, magic just may be within your reach.

xoxoxox Chocolate Girl in the City xoxoxoxoxo

 

Sister, You've Been On My Mind (National Sibling Day)

My memory is fairly tragic so I don't actually remember this happening, but I do recall my mother telling the story over and over again. Apparently I was around five or six which would have made my sister three or four at the time. A neighbor boy, let's call him BJ got one of those motorized cars and was driving it up and down the sidewalk. Sister and I were outside as well, being typical 90's kids, when BJ pulled up to me and asked if I wanted a ride.  Always overly cautious and apprehensive, I squirmed and puzzled over taking the ride. Before I could tell BJ my final decision, (probably that I wasn't going to go because “nigga are you a safe driver?!”) sister rushed past me and hopped into the car bellowing "I'LL GO!" And off they were, because that’s how sister was and still is, utterly unapologetic and fearless. 

We were pretty tight as kiddies (from what I can vaguely recall.) However, as a teen I became a complete turd. I found myself trying to separate myself from my sister. First weaseling away from our joint birthday parties, and then isolating myself in my room and becoming an insufferable miss-know-it-all. (May I just add that though I am no longer insurable, I still know it all.) Basically I was a complete BITCH and I can only assume it was due to hormones and the fact that my sister has always been cooler and more badass then me.  I was trying to acquire my own identity outside of the one we had together. (Maybe if you spoke to her she would say otherwise but this is my platform so... I win.)

Summer 2013,  just our regular ish

Luckily high school went as swiftly as it came and hormones seem to balance themselves out.  Partially because I was no longer a raging troll and probably because its now just her and me; sister and I have become two peas in a pod. We are two very different peas, but there is no one on this earth with whom I’m more in sync. (Sorry other homies, lover and friends.) Furthermore as of late a peculiar thing has happened. Sister has taken on the role of big sister. (Yes I'm the BIG SISTER!! even though I'm shorter and more child-like, I am FIRST BORN.)

My entry (and hers as well) into adulthood has been tumultuous to say the least. I've buried both of my parents, dealt with money and legally documents that I will probably never understand.  I’ve sold a house, started and quit three jobs, cried a lot, saw a therapist, smiled a ton and have generally felt overwhelmed and confused on a daily basis. Since I held the status of elder sister, (or Head Bitch in Charge as I would rather it be termed) and I generally tolerate people more than Sister, many of these things fell on my lap. There was no roadmap or warning and I've spent the majority of the last couple of years figuring ish out and piecing it together. It’s really too much for anyone to deal with especially a “baby-adult”. Needless to say, in the last year I've thrown in the towel and sister has picked up all of my slack.

A page from my scrapbook

I can't count the number of times I've called her in tears, or in a general state of panic and confusion. She has been my voice of reason, my confidant, my adult girlfriend, my editor and most of all my champion. Her words of encouragement have helped me punch my insecurities in the face and to do what is best for ME. Her advice hasn't always been rosey, (sister is the type who will tell you where to go and then provide you a roadmap of how to get there) but she has always told me the truth with my best interests at heart.

So on this National Sibling Day I want to say thank you to my little big sister. You are the true witch and I am a mere squib.

"When we were young we were brave but we didn't know it..."

#LiveForYou

xoxoxoxo Chocolate Girl in the City xoxoxox

PS. Sister, sorry for humiliating you with this post.

When You Give A Girl A Cookie... (My Favorite Harlem Eats)

Levain Bakery

Like the cracked concrete stairs leading to the front entrance of my childhood home, Harlem has always been familiar to me. It has always given me that same feeling I used to get as I drove down Lake Shore Drive. Chicago raised me and Harlem accepted me. The familiarity that I felt here before I even signed my lease on my very first big girl apartment is something that I will always cherish. And as much as it has changed since I first moved in; with new people and businesses, that feeling has never left me. Here are some of my favorite local businesses (well restaurants) in Harlem (keep in mind that I’m a foodie and I’m sensitive about my meals): Manhattanville Coffee

As a graduate student at Columbia University I grew weary fighting for a seat in Starbeezy’s on any given day. Luckily Manhattanville came to save my life. A family friendly atmosphere with posh leather couches, delectable treats it has truly become the neighborhood coffee shop. Though I have long since finished my thesis you can still find me in line at Manhattanville eagerly awaiting my almond chai latte and chocolate scone.

The Edge Café

Brunch is one of my favorite things. No seriously! I don’t play games about Brunch.  I was used to venturing down to Fredrick Douglass Boulevard where you nearly trip over brunch options until a couple of months ago, when The Edge opened up steps away from my apartment.  Entrees with a Caribbean twist, The Edge has everything from waffles, to jerk chicken, plantains and festival.

67 Orange Street

Pour Up! DRANK! I’m actually not a big drinker. If you can’t tell yet, I much prefer to eat my calories. However, 67 Orange has me questioning all of that. With drinks with names like “Emancipation” and “Mo’ Better” this bar/lounge reminds me of what  a 21st century Harlem Renaissance may have looked like. It doesn’t hurt that the staff looks like they’ve all just stepped off some fashion runway.

67 Orange Street

 

Bad Horse Pizza

I’m from Chicago so I’m extremely particular about my pizza. Normally NYC pizza just doesn’t do it for me. Bad Horse is one of the only places that stand out amongst what native New Yorkers try to pass off as pizza. Luckily, they only deliver to my area Mon- Wed, so when I want the pizza during the end of the week I have to work for it.

Melba’s

There are several places to grab Soul Food uptown and many of them are the bee’s knees. And yet only Melba’s is serving up eggnog waffles and chicken. This tiny restaurant is ALWAYS packed. So whether you are arriving for brunch or dinner I suggest you get there before the rush. Melba’s doesn’t take reservations but trust me it’s worth the wait.

Levain Bakery (Harlem)

If you give a girl a cookie, you’ll probably have to buy her another one because the first one was just too damn good. I have a serious sweet tooth and I take my desserts seriously. Let me tell you about the cookies at Levain Bakery. Listen Linda, THEY ARE EVEYTHING! Omg. Sometimes on my more greedy days I purchase a chocolate walnut cookie after brunch and eat it hours later in my underpants while watching Netflix. Sigh…life’s small pleasures. Cedric Bistro

I know you are sick and tired of hearing about Brunch so this is the last one I promise. Cedric’s is a true gem. A bit off of Harlem’s "restaurant row", Cedric’s boasts a wall of floor to ceiling windows and delicious cuisine. As someone who is constantly torn between savory and sweet selections at brunch, Cedric’s allows me my pancakes and my eggs too. If you are a late riser on the weekends, I definitely recommend making a reservation. Once you are seated, get cozy and stay for a while.

Cedric Bistro

Harlem Tavern

Hungry? Want a drink? Want to watch the game or listen to some jazz? Harlem Tavern has got you covered. I’ve probably been to the Tavern about 100 times since moving uptown. It’s my fall back place, my “first date” spot and everything in between. The Tavern is always packed but there is never a long wait which immediately sets it apart from its competitors. In the summer you can sit outside and people watch or cozy up at the bar during the winter. Either way Harlem Tavern has never let me down.

There are a ton of other incredible businesses in Harlem (not just restaurants). There are even businesses like Good Monster who pride themselves on helping business owners by providing digital marketing services that engage consumers. Harlem is a fantastic neighborhood so if you’ve never stopped by come visit! We’re all friendly and whatnot.

xoxox Chocolate Girl in the City xoxoxoxo

Never Dreamed You’d Leave in Summer: On Family & Cancer

I was born in the summer amongst the warmth, the air, the long days and the endless laughter pouring into open windows in my South Side of Chicago neighborhood. Summer has always been a magical time for me.

That last summer with her wasn’t anything like that.

There were no lazy days spent playing outside or curled up with Daddy reading the latest Harry Potter book. Instead, there were hospital rooms, heartache and the stifling stench of the cancer that filled the 13th floor of Northwestern Memorial Hospital.  In the middle of July, about a week after my 18th birthday, my Mama told my sister and me that she had cancer. As I sobbed uncontrollably, she soothed me and held me like she always did. She calmed my fears and promised me that everything would be ok. Two years later, nine days before I returned to college for my junior year, my Mama died. Five years have passed since that dreaded summer, so many of those memories have become hazy in my mind.

Continue Reading at Blavity.com 

Please Go Away: On Kanye, "Nice Guys" and Other Nauseating Fuck Boyz

I had no intention on writing about Kanye and his disastrous interview with The Breakfast Club, mostly because I've been done fucking with Kanye.  Since 2010 he's continued to show his ass. Also, there have been so many others who have called him out on his continuous coonery. Here’s one particular article that articulates how he continues to be strong and wrong.

Kanye’s Comments About Amber Rose Highlights How White Women Are “Always” Virtuous No Matter How Skeezy Their Past.

I really don’t know why he continuous to slut shame a woman he was once in love with; a woman who inspired My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy (my personal favorite Kanye album before I lost all hope) while he puts his wife on a pedestal especially since they basically have the exact same job. Kim (because of her whiteness, privilege and plastic surgery) just gets paid more for it. I'm not going to even get into how foul and disgusting I find Kanye and his horrendous "30 showers" comment (or the fact that he condones statutory rape) because quite frankly I'd like him to go away. Perhaps we can lock him in a vault until he's capable of acting right...or perhaps until he's on a healthy dose of antipsychotics. (My friends and I also think that he may have Asperger’s which quite frankly makes all the sense.)

So as I said, I really had no intention of talking about the fool until I scrolled on IG while ignoring the Oscars and I came across this.

I was simultaneously enraged and amused. After sending my best friend a screen shot, I realized this is the black ass problem with self-proclaimed "nice guys" and fuckboyz all around. They really believe deep down that because they are average ass human beings who do the bare minimum to be productive members of society, not only are they supposed to win some prize but women are supposed to open their legs and hearts to them. HUH?!!!

Sir!! You have to be fucking kidding me!!! Having a job and degree are pretty basic. Hell I have two of each. And any grown person should be washing their ass on a regular bases and using deodorant! So I ask, what is so special about anything that has been listed here? I was horrified further by some of the comments that were left underneath this post. Foolish people (both men and women) cosigning on this nonsense. What baffled me was the fact that no one ever said, you look like a whiney bitch with very little self-esteem perhaps that’s why you don’t have a woman. Perhaps you haven't learned anything about tact, self-preservation and the proper use of social media.  Perhaps that’s why no girl will look at you. Maybe if you were really a prize your so-called "female friends" would have been tried to scoop you up. Perhaps (and I'm just speculating here), you're as dull as doorknob with little to no personality or hobbies. Maybe your body doesn’t "stink" but your breath does. Perhaps it’s the fact that your idea of taking a woman out is a basic ass dinner/movie date (SNORE). Or moreover, maybe it’s your disgusting entitlement that makes you think you should be rewarded for being an average ass human being.

I know one thing, as a woman if I had posted some bullshit like that about how I fill out a sweater and I have a degree and can cook a meal or two then I would have been called a basic, desperate bottom bitch, and I would have been laid to rest across social media. So why is this acceptable for men?!!

My best friend said it eloquently, "How did we get to the point where a Black man thinks that he’s doing something [extraordinary] because he's not in jail, or having children, etc.?"  I for one don’t know where we went wrong but I do know I'm not going to sit here and throw men a parade for doing the absolute bare minimum. And another thing, how dare y’all continue to act like women who don’t want ya'll asses are superficial moneywhores or whatever else chauvinistic term y’all want to throw at us today.

Listen, the common denominator here is you. If women aren't responding to whatever it is that you’re selling, its time to fix, tweak or upgrade your product.

This whining though has got to stop! Be different, have something to talk about, take her somewhere other than the nearest AMC and TGI Fridays. Here's a novel ass idea...Pick up the damn phone instead of texting.

Maybe these suggestions will help some of ya'll or maybe they won’t. Perhaps some of you will come for me and say that I'm a bitch and I'm bougie or whatever the fuck. Either way, it’s not me that has the issues with finding a woman(or man). All I ask is that if you're going to continue to be a bitch baby and go on and on about how women a’int shit and you're some diamond in the rough that no one has yet to discover at least go away and leave that off social media.

We already gotta be subjected to the Kanye's, Stevie J’s and Floyd Mayweather’s of the world.

#SMH

Are You A Fuckboy?

Chocolate Girl in the City.

PS. If you've never listened the The Read then you’ve been sleep. This episode “Say No to F**k Boys” was named one of the top 25 podcasts of all time. (Start at 54 mins in)

I Am NOT A Colorless Person

I’d like to start off by saying that however, Raven would like to label herself is her right. (I would say her Black ass right, but she don’t want to be labeled as such so I’m gonna go ahead and respect home girl’s wishes.) What is interesting though, (and Crissle pointed this out on my favorite podcast The Read) is that people want to throw away labels ONLY when they are labels that are devalued in society. (Everybody want to be a nigga but don’t nobody want to be nigga.)  A rich, fine, intelligent billionaire never says, “Oh no, no, no please don’t call me rich, fine or intelligent. I don’t want to be labeled.”

So as I said I’ve got no beef with Raven and her lack of labels. Hell this fool Mike Tirico from ESPN claims to be 100& Italian. (Real tears.) If he wants to live in a delusional cloud of foolishness then by all means I say go on ahead boo. (Though I do hope he realizes that if this was 1815 he wouldn’t be talking about none of this. He would be right next to me in all of chocolate glory trying to pick some cotton, or grow some tobacco, or cultivate some sugar. He wouldn’t have even passed the test to be helping in the big house.) But its 2014….so be Italian if you want to.

Mike Trico

What did aggravate me and irritate me is when Raven said, “I’m an American, and that’s a colorless person.”……  0_O

 I’m sorry what?!!!!  Ms. Raven, while you were playing Olivia on The Cosby Show(the most successful BLACK sitcom of all time), did you not have a tutor? Perhaps you missed a few lessons. Being American is the opposite of being colorless. Ain’t you learn about how we’re supposedly this melting pot of cultures, people and ideas? Were you not taught that wars were fought , that people have marched and died, have been assassinated, exterminated, interned, removed, violated, lynched ,and on and on because color is labeled as other and other apparently fosters fear and hatred.

I am not a colorless person. Colorlessness evokes erasure and as Viola Davis recent stated after that simple-minded New York Times article. “You can’t erase ME!.”

I grew up on the South Side of Chicago (Chicago is extremely segregated still, so my neighborhood was predominantly Black.) I went to an all Black elementary school and middle school. Black history month was huge for us, we had Black Santa’s and figurines at Christmas, we had subscriptions to Ebony and Essence. I know the Black national anthem and I know all the colors on the Black American flag and what they stand for.  I’m well versed in Black history, I know where my Mama’s people came from(Mississippi) and I also know they came to Chicago during the Great Migration. My mama was ten when MLK was assassinated. She remembered that day, I remember that day through the stories she’s told me.  I understand from listening to my elders; my Big Daddy, and my aunts and uncles. I am a fervent reader. I watch a ton of documentaries on Blackness and Black history. I understand the historical significance of Nigger, Negro, African American, Nigga and Black, My dad was Nigerian and he was very ingrained in his culture as well. Blackness raised me, it is in me, I live it and I breathe it. My skin is extremely dark brown. It’s there always visible, ever-present. I can’t remove it, would never want to even if I could. I have been teased and tormented for it. I’ve been praised and sexualized because of it. I can barely find foundation and drawers to match my nude. I can’t contour my face because of it.

So I embrace my labels, because they were earned with my ancestors’ blood and tears and perseverance. My humanity is still being fought for, look to Ferguson or Florida, just flip on the news or walk around any major city.

I am not colorless, I am Black, visible and present. I refuse to be shoved into the background.  

I’m an introverted extrovert.

I have dark skin.

I am boisterous.

I am humorous.

I am raunchy and free.

I am a bookwork.

I am a Chicagoan and a Harlemite,

I am more hetro then homo

I am young

I am a woman,

I am a Black woman,

I am a feminist,

I am happy

I am parentless

I am childless

I am curvy

I am Nigerian

and yes I am also an American but certainly not colorless.

 xoxoxo Chocolate Girl in the City xoxoxoxox