Advice From A 23- Year Old Orphan: 5 Ways To Appreciate Your Parents

"By the time my 23rd birthday rolled around, I had buried both of my parents. Growing up, I saw my parents as superheroes. They made rules for me and supported me. They showed no fear and no anxieties; they just were.

Of course, like most kids, especially during my teen years, I rebelled mostly against my mother and the tragic 10:30 pm curfew that she insisted on enforcing. I also couldn’t watch television during the school week or go to sleepovers. As a cinephile and avid reader who hates sleepovers as an adult, I’m pretty sure I turned out okay, despite how ridiculous I thought my parents’ rules were as a kid. More often than not, though, I had a fantastic relationship with my makers. Time spent with my mother included shopping trips and brunches, and with my father, Harry Potter premieres and random conversations on the couch. As I got older and began to see them more as real people, we formed a friendship of sorts, but unfortunately, there was no opportunity for the relationship to prosper because within the blink of an eye, they were gone.

As we move along into adulthood, our lives become more and more separate from our parents, and that’s how it should be. Their jobs are complete; they’ve raised us to the best of their ability and now it up to us to take the reins on our lives.

Still, I urge you not to forget them and all they’ve done for you — the sacrifices they have made, the plays, concerts and games through which they suffered. When you see them during the holidays, you’ll begin to realize that they are getting older, graying and slowing down a bit. Don’t take them for granted while they are here."

Continue Reading at EliteDaily.Com

Pretending To Be An Adult: 10 Ways To Fake It Until You Make It

"Like many of you, I enjoy my autonomy without really relishing in the true meaning of being an adult. “Adult,” what a prickly word. It’s a word riddled with responsibilities, 401(k)s and other stuff I don’t quite understand. So, instead of claiming full-on adulthood, I’ve settled into this lovely state of pretending to be an adult. I’ve outlined 10 ways to successfully fake adulthood until you actually have to claim that you are one (I’m assuming that comes around age 30)."

Read The Entire Post Here at EliteDaily.Com

xoxoxox Chocolate Girl In the City xoxoxox 

Harlem: On Being Home & Belonging

 "Harlem was home; was where we belonged; where we knew and were known in return; where we felt most alive; where, if need be, somebody had to take us in. Harlem defined us, claiming our consciousness and, I suspect, our unconsciousness." ~ Ossie Davis 

The other day I got home from the gym and opened my mailbox to find my lease renewal form waiting for me.  Though my lease isn’t up until the end of June, I had expected to see the paperwork fairly early this year. (My building has recently switched owners causing quite a bit of ruckus in the process.) As I ripped open the envelope, I stilled myself in preparation for the increase in rent.  (NYC rent is NOT a game.) As I peered down at the number for my rent I blew out a breath coming to the realization that after two years in my little studio, it is no longer feasible to continue living here. (Not in this little space for that much money.) I knew then that I would be moving. Only three more months in my first real big girl dwelling, a home that I’ve called my own.

Two years ago, after finishing undergrad at NYU, I went back to my hometown for a little bit, biding my time until I could move back to NYC to begin my graduate studies at Columbia.  Even then it was Harlem over any other neighborhood that had been calling my name.

Except for the four years that I spent at NYU, I’ve always lived in neighborhoods that have been “isolated”; cut off if you will, from the rest of the city. I was raised on the South Side of Chicago, almost as east as one could get. (Damn near in the lake if you know anything about Chicago’s geography.)  99% of the people in my neighborhood and the surrounding areas were brown people. I went to an all black preschool, elementary school, and middle school. In the majority of the activities that I participated in (bougie block parties, Girl Scout sessions, forced basketball lessons) the people that I interacted with looked like me. It's difficult to understand how comforting that is until you no longer have that blanket of protection. Until you’re the only Black person in the room. ( A near constant state of being for me during the past six years.)

In high school my horizons were opened in the best way possible. I realize in retrospect how rare that type of “diversity” actually is.  I would take an express bus from 67^th Street and Jeffery until 110^th street in downtown Chicago (no stops in between) and transfer over to a train that dropped me off near my school on the near north side.  This was my comfortable cushy ass experience from birth until 18 years of age when I moved to NYC to begin my freshman year at NYU.

Thinking I was destined to live like a young chocolate Carrie Bradshaw I was in for a rude awakening. First I had to contend with being the only black girl in my year for my program and when I went to Duane Reade (Walgreens) I could find nary a hair product that I recognized to tame my kinks and curls.  My frustrations of course didn’t end there, but as I got older and I hope a bit wiser I started to find my niche and seek out my own group of friends.

But then there were those days, days that I still have every now and then when I just wander about the city, people watching and contemplating. On days like those I always seemed to drift towards Harlem. I know people feel that same way about Brooklyn and other hoods, but with Harlem the history was always so prevalent in my mind. The Garvey parades in the 1930’s, sites and locations from Malcolm X’s autobiography. The apartment parties during the Renaissance. The places and spaces where Hughes, Hurston and McKay talked, wrote, lived and experienced.  Not too far from Columbia, it was the ideal place for me to end up.

116th and Lenox, Last Sunday

Harlem is familiar; it’s always been just like home. I feel as at ease here as I felt standing on the bus stop at 69^th and Jeffery back home or when I spent summer days lounging about at 63^rd street beach listening to the men drumming as I ate jerk chicken and rice. Nowadays much of my time is spent on express trains running from 59^th Street to 125^th Street (no stops in between). As the train hurtles towards my stop, towards my home, I never feel isolated I simply feel freer.

As June 30^th quickly approaches, I have some decisions to make. I’m open to the world (or at least that’s what I keep telling myself), but the truth, is I’m not sure if Brooklyn or LA will ever measure up to the love I have for Harlem or even for my hometown. Right now all of that is up in the air.

People ask me why Harlem, why am I so attached? It’s because of my history and my people and the fact that it’s always embraced me without judgment. I’ve never felt the isolation that I felt when living in the West Village. In my fellow Harlemites I see my family and my friends.  In these past couple of years I’ve had some crazy experiences and I’ve learned a lot about myself. One thing though is for certain; Harlem has never asked me to be anybody I’m not.

xoxoxo Chocolate Girl in the City xoxoxox

Why Dating is An Activity and Not A Status

A perpetual lack of communication seems to be the downfall of many relationships, and mostly it’s because we seem to be getting off on the wrong foot to begin with. There’s hooking up, then there’s dating and then there are relationships. These are not one in the same, but for whatever reason we have deluded ourselves into believing that they are. So let’s save one another some heartache and confusion and define these terms, or stages if you will.

Hooking Up

This is basically your friends- with -benefits type of situation. (Disclaimer: I’m 99% certain that this never works. Someone always catches feelings and it nearly always ends poorly).  Hooking up is all about the physical, getting a warm body for the night. This is literally all that it is an all that is should be expected to be. If you are hooking up with someone, you should expect that you are not the only one playing this position at night.  I personally wouldn’t recommend “hooking up” because there are too many diseases, too many fertile people, and quite frankly life is waaaay to short for BAD SEX.  (How many times have you actually been sexually satisfied with a random?) In case you missed the signs, “hooking up” or being in a friends-with-benefits situations means that you are SINGLE.

 

Dating

Now dating is a little different. Dating involves getting to know another person while participating in activities. I’m sorry to burst your bubble but sitting on a couch in someone’s apartment does not a date make. (You could have stayed in the comfort of your own apartment if you were going to sit up and watch Netflix.) But here is where dating gets tricky. Just because you are seeing someone and enjoying your times with him or her does not mean that you are in a relationship with that person. Relationships mean exclusivity. While dating you are free and clear to date however many people you would like. In fact, it is highly recommended.  Get out there and meet a few people. You will learn what you like and what you don’t like. In doing this you will learn what your deal breakers are in relationships and also, what qualities you most desire in a partner. Most importantly, you will learn a lot about yourself.  I’ve heard so many people distraught when thy found out the person they were dating was dating other people. … Ummm, yes they are suppose to be dating other people and quite frankly, so are you.  Assuming that you are in a relationship without any conversation or communication will simply set you up for failure.  After all when you are dating you are SINGLE.

Relationships

A Relationship comes AFTER dating, AFTER getting to know someone for a period of time.  How can you decide you want to be exclusive with someone if you don’t even know him or her? If you’ve only been dating for short period of time then you’ve probably only seen them at their best. I would suggest investing a little more time with a person before jumping into a relationship. And please remember you cannot assume you are in an exclusive relationship with someone unless you’ve had a cleat discussion about it. Once you have this discussion, you are no longer single.

I’ve written all of this in hopes that it will prevent any impending confusion or hurt feelings. If you insist on “hooking up” go in with NO EXPECTATIONS…literally NONE. You really can’t expect much from strangers. If you plan on dating, do just and be honest about it. And if you want to be in a relationship please know that you cannot conduct yourself in as if you are single.

 

xoxoxo Chocolate Girl In the City xoxoxoxo

How Did I Get Here? On Being Melancholy

Sometimes it feels like the world is a shiny ball of poo

I’m mostly happy I would say a good 90% of my days are filled with laughter and joy, fashionable clothing and delicious foods. And for that I am forever grateful. I’ve never been clinically depressed or had any mental or emotional illnesses. I’m thankful because I never knew how strong I could be until there was no other option.  But there are days like today when I slip into a melancholy state. Its usually abrupt, I wake up have my morning coffee, the sun is shining into my tiny apartment and all seems right in my world. Until it’s not.

I really wanted to go to an event that was happening and literally none of my friends were able to join me. Now I don’t have a problem doing things alone, in fact I’ve labeled myself an introverted extravert, but this was just not one of those events that I couldn’t attend solo.  So there isn’t much on my agenda today and normally I’m content but then my friend and I were chatting and he asked me about my happiest memory, and I thought about my childhood and my parents and the things that I once had and what I’ve since lost. Before I knew it the tears started rolling (I’m usually not a crier) and the melancholy set in.

Here’s the thing about melancholy, it will make you question all of your decisions. Yesterday I was content in my life, in my situation and even this morning I was feeling blessed and free. But suddenly just like, that I wondered am I wasting my time? Am I really living like I should be at 23? Is NYC where I’m supposed to be? Was quitting the best decision for me? Why do I feel like I haven’t experienced anything? I’ll admit that that’s partially my fault. I’m not a huge party/drinker/bar girl but I like to hope that I’m moderately sociable. I haven’t gone out much lately because quite frankly after getting in from work I would be EXHAUSTED and the weather was atrocious. However, I also won’t sit here and pretend that I haven’t turned down outings on perfectly sunny days where I felt well rested and free.

So what is it? What do I fear? What am I missing out on? Or is all of this fear simply the fear of missing out? I think part of it is. I genuinely don’t enjoy clubbing I have had a small handful of nights out at clubs that have been epic but more often then not, I’ve been groped,, spent too much money and sat on the side calculating how much longer I had to stay until I could race home to my kindle. Part of it was my self-esteem and my lack of initiative (but those are thoughts for another post).

But I think a lot of it, which I’m just now fingering out, and goes back to why I can’t sleep if my apartment is too messy is the lack of control. So much in my life has been out of control in the past few years and as I’m coming into a period of stability (please GOD let this be a period of stability), I still can’t let go of that feeling of feeling out of control. That’s what nightlife and being sociable is right? You have to break out of your comfort zone. You’re not eating dinner at your normal hour, your workout nay be thrown off or may not happened at all. That feeling of being out of control, of going with the flow has been extremely difficult for me to deal with.

So I’m sitting here, in this melancholy mood (luckily not with my face stuck in a pint of ice cream).  But I feel restless, unsettled, irritated with myself. I know I need to be better, do better about keeping up with people, saying YES to myself which means saying yes to the things I’m afraid of. So by the time you read this I’ll probably be in the “happiest place on earth” perhaps that will hopefully give me some perspective. I'm headed out to prowl. And hopefully some stuff I’ve been working on shall see the light of day shortly.

Meh…this is me in my feelings, please ignore me.

xoxoxoxo Chocolate Girl In the City xoxoxoxoxoxo

Perhaps, Just Maybe, You Are Doing Too Much

These days people use the word "thirsty" to describe someone who is coated in desperation. This parched individual will go to great lengths for recognition. They spend a great deal of time plotting and scheming in an attempt to capture the prized panties or drawers. Now normally I don't condone using the term thirsty. I personally live for a reliable man. (For example, there is something about Jake from Scandal that does it for me. Perhaps it's because he actually killed someone for Liv, meanwhile all Fitz does is whine, cry and stay married -_-) Anyways, though you may have the best intentions in the world, your actions are quite possibly thirsty, if you are throwing all of your attention on to someone who does not welcome it.

I was thinking about this because of a incident that occurred some Saturdays ago. I'd risen early to go to the Post Office, visiting USPS is like descending into the eighth circle of hell, I should have known no good would come of it. As I headed back to my building shades on, earphones in, Starbucks in hand I heard someone say "HEY THERE!". Now the sunglasses and headphones typically serve as foolish negro repellent. However, due to my traumatic experience at the post office I was off my game. Befuddled I looked up at a buttery yellow smile. My senses were assaulted by the smell of stale cigarettes and moonshine. The fool then proceeded to ask if I was was walking far. I mumbled that I was, and he then rudely took it upon himself to gesture like he would be escorting me. I promptly informed him that I was not interested and began to briskly walk away. To my utter horror the clown bellowed "Are you running away from me?!"

You know that moment when your gut tells you to be on HIGH ALERT. Well that moment happened for me just then. There was something really off about the brother (more off than the fact that his teeth were the color of big bird). I sprinted into the nearest deli and hid behind the shelves. I'd passed up my apartment building  because obviously I didn't want this psycho to know where I lived. After several minutes of hiding behind a large gentleman and calming myself with a Diet Peach Snapple I cautiously made my way home.

As I'm sure you can tell  this man was doing WAAY to much. (Also I'm convinced that he was a serial killer). He was disgusting and overly enthusiastic.

This foolery got me to thinking about how we act in our dating lives. It's very simple really,  if someone is interested in you I'm quite certain that you will have some indication. If they aren't interested you will also know. People have the same 24 hours in the day that you do. If they are interested they will make time, they generally won't run in horror in the other direction, they won't ignore you or treat you poorly. There is no reason to continue to force yourself into their lives when you are so obviously unwanted.

Case in point, a couple of months ago I went out with a guy (ONE TIME). It was a lackluster experience, as many first dates are. He then proceeded to blow me up, acting like we would be married by the summer time. Sir, I don't know you, there is no reason why we need to speak at length every day. He even had the nerve to comment on how expensive dating is. (While I agree, no one told you to date if you can't afford it.) Obviously I thought he was creepy and ridiculous and I finally had to hit him with the "you're a nice guy but..." text.

Desperation is a sickness.  People that want to use you can smell in from miles away. Others who want nothing from you, will look at you in disgust and plot the most swift and safe exit. Once again I live for consistency and reliability but ONLY if the interest is mutual. If you are asking a woman who you just met why you are the only one initiating contact (which you do EVERY SINGLE DAY. Listen anyone can send a generic ass Good Morning text I'm unimpressed),perhaps,  just maybe you are doing too much.

xoxoxo Chocolate Girl in the City xoxoxo

I QUIT

How I Felt On Friday Leaving for the LAST Time

http://elitedaily.com/money/the-5-signs-you-dont-belong-in-your-job/

I'd like to assume that I'm a fairly intelligent woman. As I've stated previously, school has always come fairly easily to me. Going with my instincts however, has proven to be a much more precarious task. Perhaps if I'd followed my gut initially, I would have never found myself in such a pickle. But alas, everything happens for a reason.... or at least that's what they tell me.

In early January, I found myself sitting in the longest interview of my life discussing a position that made drying paint look enthralling. As I nodded and told the woman in HR that I'd be interested in the position I realized I was lying to myself and to her. I talked it over with my family and my friends and I pacified my anxieties over the position by saying things like, “You're bills will be covered” (barely) and “It’s a means to an end, a stepping stone if you will.” Still, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was selling myself short, that in the end I would be wildly unhappy with the position. But because I am an adult (or something like an adult), I decided to do the grown up thing and accept the position a month before getting my Master's degree.

If you read my post Working 9 to 5 Just to Stay Alive ,then you know how I felt about this job. There is NOTHING more draining than sitting at a desk all day transferring phone calls for 9 hours. (Yes I said nine hours; this is not a typical "work" day people you're either on a shift from 8-6 or from 10-8 with an hr for lunch). It’s especially difficult for someone who is use to being creative, working on projects or having multiple things to do at once. It has been one of the most draining experiences of my life.

I suppose I've always been rather naïve about the entertainment industry. I’ve dabbled of course but this was my first true experience. It will not be happy memory.  There is very little that grinds my gears more, than people far less competent than I treating me like I'm stupid. Understand that I CANNOT and I WON'T. I have a very low tolerance for these "types" of people and by day three at my former place of employment I had reached my threshold.

Just like a man (or woman (whatever floats your boat)  that you're getting to know, you can pretty much spot any initial red flags pretty early on and it becomes up to you whether or not you would like to proceed. 

Red Flag # 1: I was told on day one that, while at the company anything that you write/ create become the company's property. GIRL BYE. Not this girl's material.

Red Flag # 2: 95% of the Black males in the company are in the mail room. I really can't explain to you the level of irritation that I felt.  These are highly intelligent and highly educated guys. WTF?!

Red Flag # 3: Being treated like a fetch girl. Ain't nobody Patsey in here! Hang up your own coat. Clean the F up after yourself! And no I'm not a garbage disposal do not HAND me your trash unless I offer to take it.

Red Flag # 4 : The place reeks of white privilege and micro aggression and quite frankly I just don't have time.

Red Flag #4.5: We got the newsletter about Black History Month February 21^st  

FEBRUARY FU*KIN 21ST!!!!!!!!!!!!!! They didn't even PRETEND to care! Why even put one out at all ?!!

Red Flag #5: A certain piece of Canadian trash decided to place the office phone number on his twitter contact info. Therefore we were perpetually fielding class from tweens who wanted to speak to said douche bag. (Really no one deserves such a fate.)

The Saturday after my second week of employment, I was standing in a Starbucks waiting for my friend to meet me for a movie. As I stood there, I just kept thinking how miserable I had been all week. How I'd reverted back to my awful habit of eating my feelings and not to mention my attitude was quickly teetering on the line of Angry Black Woman.  As I stood there sipping my non-fat dirty chai I asked myself  WHY?  Why are you doing something that you absolutely DESPISE for 50 hours a week? I hate to say it but I am. I'm better then this. This deserves none of my attention, my anger or my thoughts.  I wouldn't put up with just any man, why and the hell would I put up with just any ole job?!

I've made mistakes in my twenty- three years of life, but to be honest I've pretty much done things by the book. Now is the time for adventure, for discovery and for exploration. This is not the time to bury my misery in chocolate ice cream and Chipotle burritos. When I talked to people about my job many were like, "Oh, is it really that bad?" Well the position is constantly available so why don't you apply and find out?"  I would give anything to take away that unpleasant memory of crying to my baby sister the day I got my Masters...for what?! Over a job?! A job that after taxes barely paid over minimum wage.

I realize that this probably wasn't the smartest thing I've ever done in light of the financial climate and maybe even career wise but that’s the point of being young right? You can start over.

If this miraculous plan of mine doesn't work out (more details to come)  well.... "Kanye Shrug". At least I'm no longer in hell.  

xoxox Chocolate Girl In the City xoxoxoxox

PS: My Current Situation 

Warmth, Happiness & 80 Degrees

 

On the First Anniversary of My Father's Death

Death,” she said, “is a great teacher. It reminds you, almost mockingly, that everyone is stamped with an expiration date.”

 

One year ago today, I got a phone call that I'd been expecting. It’s a strange thing, expecting a phone call like that, expecting death. You can feel it, its been hovering around and you think about it constantly. You try and fight thru it; smile even but there's no escaping it. One year ago today, I sat in a classroom bored out of my mind until I looked at my phone and I knew. It was the third phone call I'd received like that in three years.

 

My dad was a vivacious man, stuck in his ways; some would even label him inflexible. But I understood him. I feel like I understood him in a way that often no one else did. He was stubborn and he expected a lot, but he laughed too, and he danced, and he listened and understood. He never told me what to do, not as an adult anyway. He simply made his suggestions and it was up to me if I decided to go along with them. He always allowed me to make my own decisions, to be grown up. He expected nothing less.

 

I've always thought it was interesting how we don't see our parents as people. During our childhoods they are these powers at be, not really human much more like superheroes than anything else. As you get older you begin to see the chinks in their armor. The cracks, the mistakes, the experiences that have exposed them, and that have worn them down. My dad wasn't easily worn down. (Years ago his doctor informed him that at some point in his life he had a heart attack. He hadn't even realized he’d had one.  He probably just felt a pain and decided to sit down and listen to NPR instead of carrying on with whatever he was doing.)

 

Growing up my dad worked a lot. It was very rare that we got to spend the day with him. There were special occasions, Christmas Eve, New Years, anytime something related to Harry Potter came out. And then there was the summer I graduated from college, the most time I can ever remember spending with my dad.

 

He came to NYC for my graduation; we talked a lot, laughed a ton and walked around what is now my neighborhood. I take comfort in knowing that he's been here, in the area that I now call my home.

 

Last winter I was visiting him in the hospital, he liked to joke and laugh and keep things light despite what was occurring. And he told me two things, two things I'll remember forever. My dad told me about the day his father died. He was leaving for the States and he had gone around the neighborhood to say goodbye to his friends and relatives. By the time he returned home, his father had passed. A couple of days later he got on that plane and came to America. (That tells you a little bit about the stuff I'm made off).

 

And then he told me something else, something that broke my heart. He said, "Just continue to be a good girl, that's all I ask."

 

I have been a good girl, for the most part... I hope. I've made some really big grown up decisions lately and I hope that he would be proud. Or, he would suggest otherwise and then leave me to my own devices.  

 

Its been one whole year since I received that phone call, and I’m very different and also very much the same. Death has been a great teacher, but so was my dad, I wish now more than anything that he was here to give his two cents.

 

Chocolate Girl In the City

Giving the Side Eye to Side Kids

Girl, I Can't!

"If you want to be single, be single. If you want to be in a relationship, understand that you can not conduct yourself as if you are single, or you will be single again" - Demetria Lucas

Ever since that story dropped about a certain athlete and his "side baby" I've been waiting to write about this subject. Since then, other reports have arisen about other celebrities and I constantly hear of the same nonsense on relationship blogs. The newest report on a side baby is about a certain rapper and his wife who have a full ass TV show about their family. (Reports have yet to be confirmed.)

Let me first say that if the situations were reversed in ANY of these stories (if a certain actress had gotten pregnant by another man while on a "break" with her bf), or if any of the women involved in these stories had gotten pregnant by a man she wasn't in a relationship  with she would have been dragged by her edges around the world. Men everywhere would have called her every foul name they could think of. (Think about it, people have being calling BEY, a married woman with a child, "Whore Beyoncé" since her new album dropped). Let me also say that "breaks" are bullshit. either you are in  relationship or you aren't in my opinion its very simple, people just make ish complicated. I'm not above believing that this whole "break" garbage was invented as a cover up in order that both parties may save a bit of face. 

But here's the thing sis, none of the men involved in these situations are acting like they've done anything wrong. Yes,  everyone makes mistakes but chile this is a moral failing. Not only are you completely disrespectful and carrying on long deceits, you are putting others physical and emotional health at risk.  It has been my experience that men who strap up ALWAYS strap up and men who don't always try and find an excuse not to. Clearly there is no latex shortage if you are in fact too weak-willed to be faithful. It is the VERY LEAST you can do if you're gonna step out.

My question then becomes why be in a relationship? Why get married? Why not be like certain A-List actors who have entire fleets of supermodels lounging about on their yachts? Ain't nobody MAD at that. If you're not about that monogamy life then by all means. DON'T  BE ABOUT IT!. If you pretend that marriage and monogamy is what you want then,  it literally becomes what my bestie proclaimed as " an elaborate scheme to humiliate your wife/girlfriend/partner". The other side of this is that they're are children involved. (Children model what they SEE not necessarily what they are TOLD.)

What kills me is that often times these men want to boast about what good fathers they are and how they take care of their kids and so forth. (Honestly I'm not here for giving praise to people who do what they're suppose to do. It's just like when my daddy didn't see it for celebrating my high school graduation LOL). But back to these kids, so you're such a good parent but this is the life you choose to show your children. You show your boys that they can treat women like disposable Kleenex and you choose to show your daughters that men can treat them any old raggedy kind of way and their suppose to just accept it.

I don't care what anyone says, as a person coming from a home of "divorce" a lot of how I behave in relationships is patterned off of both my parent's relationship and how my relationship was with my father. Some of those bad habits are so deeply ingrained that it took me awhile to recognize them and its a battle every day to break the bad habits.

Still, there are two sides to every coin so I'll take these moment to address the women who find themselves in these horrific situations. My bestie told me, "Women are selling themselves short and its disgusting". (How women conduct themselves on reality shows is not helping and its nothing that you should be modeling your behavior after.) 

First to the "other woman" who finds herself pregnant and an unwelcome third party in someone else's relationship. I'll never understand women who go after someone else man its, weak minded an disgusting. Is this your end game, to be at the end of someone's list, to be a thorn in someone's backside? That's really what you're on? That's how you want to raise your children. If its money that you're seeking can you at least get with someone whose single? (Or better still how about you hustle with something other than your uterus?) I realize that everyone isn't raised in households where they see positive, loving relationships so that idea of one may be farfetched. However,the entire series of The Cosby Show is on Amazon for $250, that's a better investment than some raggedy negro who barely has a grasp on the English language. If that's too expensive I suggest you gather a collection of romance novels to get some inkling of how you should be treated because after all you are a woman phenomenally (NOTE: Olivia Pope & Mary Jane are fictional character, they are for entertainment, this is not real life. Even still, they spend a great deal of time looking silly and ridiculous). 

Now for the women who thought they were in loving and committed relationships. It's your life do what you want but what that being said, something like a "side baby" really shows the true character (or lack thereof) of a man. And as Queen Oprah tells us, "Once someone shows you who they are believe them". Yes you may love them but they obviously don't love you. I've never humiliated or intentionally disrespected anyone that I loved. I've had two men humiliate and disrespect me in my life and that was more than enough. At some point you have to look at yourself and ask why you're accepting that. You have to love yourself more than you love anyone else. This is why its so important to have standards. (I've learned that I may not have a large number of men coming by way but its about quality for me. It may sound harsh but I turned down a second date with a man who didn't walk me the two blocks to the train after our date very late one evening. Obviously that wasn't the only red flag I saw that night but it was enough for me not to want to see him again).

I get that people are afraid to be single, to be "alone" trust me I've been there. There are times now when I'm over it, but then I think back to my last relationship to the times were I was unhappy or disappointed and I grin to myself with delight because I may be bored but I'm not irritated or upset.

All of this is just to say that in my book "side children" are ALWAYS a deal breaker. The level of disrespect is daunting. Its very foul that these men try and act like what they did was ok and that women should just accept it or that its normal.  Well this woman CAN'T & WON'T. I know that some people will suggest that I should just keep on living and I plan to do just that. But know this I will never see it for a man who not only cheats on me which is horrific enough but who has the audacity to produce a child out of the indiscretion.

SMH

xoxox Chocolate Girl in the City xoxoxo

Working 9 to 5 Just to Stay Alive

It's Friday afternoon and I've been at work since 8am. it's my second week and I'm not ashamed to say that I'm doing a smooth contemplation of PhD Program. I must admit when I was offered my position I wasn't super enthusiastic about it, but I thought it had potential.....(Oh naive one how wrong you were.)

While I was frantically applying to positions I had a foolish delusion that right after grad school I would end up in some decent level position in the "urban" department of some cable network giving them insight on how Black people should be depicted onscreen. Alas, despite all of my posturing this was not to be the case.

HELP!

Now let me be clear, I still work at an extremely prominent company in the entertainment industry...my position however leaves little to be desired. I was out to dinner with my friend the weekend before I started and he warned me that the first week on the job was going to SUCK.

He was not wrong.

At the end of the day last Friday I wanted somebody to say something crazy to me just so I could politely gather my bag and exit.  Sadly this dream was not realized. I had miraculously made it through a 45/hr work week and I had no excuse to not return Monday morning.

I envisioned a bougie version of this (sans the man part)

The first week was really bad for me because I didn't have a desk which in turn meant I didn't have a computer.... Please ask yourself when is the last time you sat around for 9 hours with no access to a computer....Don't worry, I'll wait........ It was utterly horrific. By Wednesday I came home and had a small mental break down because I just wanted to take a hot shower and got to bed. Of course my tub was stopped up and I was without DRAIN-O. Obviously the only thing left  to do was to curl up in the fetal position and cry about how my life sucked and how unfair it was.  Surely this first week was meant to break people, meant to deprive them of all of their humanity so that company could begin to weed out the weaker links. Still somehow (mostly thru pep talks with my besties and sister), I managed to get myself together and show up the next day.

As I stumbled into my apartment last Friday night, Chipotle and Ice cream in hand (attempts at the gym totally foiled for the week), I began to plan my exodus. I realized when I signed up for my current position it wasn't exactly going to be the cat's meow but Chile let me tell you this is for the birds. Because my hours are early, late, long and ever changing I feel like I rarely have a chance to do anything during the week.  I AM NOT about this life.

This was further reinforced last  Saturday when I attended a panel of lovely academics who discussed the implications in depictions of Slavery in the cinema. It was everything. I got to listen to things I cared about, I watched Gordon Parks' Solomon Northrup's Odyssey (1984) (the original 12 Years a Slave). All in all my mind was stimulated in a way that it had not been during the entire work week. One way to stifle a group of talented and creative people is to have them sit behind a desk for nine hours transferring phone calls and getting people coffee.

 I acknowledge that some people will say I should be  very grateful many people are struggling to find a job. I will say I am very grateful to be able to pay my bills. But I also ask myself at what cost? I worked extremely hard all throughout college and graduate school. I worked, interned and volunteered. I have to think that all that, as well as the ridiculous amounts of loans that I must begin paying back in November count for something.   I am still very young so I have a ton to learn but I also realize that's advantageous to me. I don't have serious responsibilities, I'm malleable, ever changing and growing. All of the work I put in must mean something, no one deserves to be miserable.

Today I cleaned off a tissue from a guest who had blown their nose and left it on the counter. I was also screamed at by a caller because it was 8am and the person they wanted to speak with wasn't in. (This can't be life.) But alas, there are some bright spots it is Friday after all and the FedEx man was giving me Boris in Soul Food the Series fioneness .

FRIDAY

xoxox Chocolate Girl In the City xoxoxox

Possible Bed Bugs and Other Tuesday Humiliations

Tuesday

Tuesday was supposed to be a grand day. My discounted vanity from Amazon was slated to arrive and I was finally going to watch the Golden Globes so I could clear up space on my DVR.  I also planned on taking out my waist length Marley twists and finally having an epic night of sleep.  (I don’t think ya’ll understand the exquisite nature of sleeping on a fro. No weave or braids itching you. You don’t have to try and sleep pretty. It’s like sleeping on the bed sheets of the Lord.) Anyways let’s not get off track, so this was my Tuesday plan, but of course my plans are usually thwarted. Let’s rewind a bit shall we.

Last Friday I sat in my longest job interview to date. (Do you have any clue how hard it is to appear professional and competent for an hour?!!) I was informed on Monday that I’d miraculously made it to the next phase of the hiring process, but they needed to skills test me. I was given a testing time slot for 9 am on Tuesday Morning.

Tuesday Morning arrived and I awoke with calm reverence. Now I won’t classify myself as a “morning person” but I normally don’t mind my alarm. I‘m definitely NOT a SNOOZER  (I really can’t understand why people snooze?!! It’s like being transported to a mystical land where you marry Idris Elba and then you’re exiled back to your tragic normal existence on earth).

I just......... We are not worthy xoxoxo Le sigh

Anyway my alarm rang and as I stood up from my bed I noticed I had three little bug bites on my hand. I IMMEDIATELY began to panic.

Let’s be clear, I am not a brave girl. I despise scary movies and amusement park rides, but above all I am TERRIFIED of bugs. Naturally then, I assumed that the bed bugs of NYC finally found my Harlem dwelling and I immediately called my building management company in a state of panic. Now as most New Yorkers will know this proved to be a useless endeavor. I was gonna have to file a work order and blah blah blah inspection blah blah blah… it would take a few days.

Ain’t Nobody Got Time For That!!!!!!

By the time my management company was going to send out an exterminator I would have been eaten alive. Instead I turned to YELP, the number one how- to app that has aided in my survival of adulthood. My lover YELP always comes thru for me, and I was able to find an extermination company that would come inspect my apartment later that afternoon.

This all happened before 8AM, and if you recall I still had to get skills tested and make it to the laundry mat to wash ALL of my clothing/bedding. There was also the matter of the Golden Globes and my twists.

I gathered my wits and ventured downtown to take the tragic exam. And let me tell ya’ll that it was VERY tragic. I was tested on my knowledge of Microsoft Word, Excel, Outlook and Typing.  The test is obviously rigged because my score was that of a drunken imbecile and here is why:    1. I didn’t understand how the test worked until I was halfway done. 2. Since becoming a full time Mac user in 2010 I no longer have the ability to understand PC   3. I don’t understand how to NOT use shortcuts 4. The test is just dumb.

Afterward, I stumbled into Starbucks to ego my pain while vigorously scratching my bites. I would be forever unemployed and itchy but at least I allowed myself the luxury of Half & Half instead of skim milk.

Resigned to my fate I ventured back to Harlem to spend the next decade at the laundry mat debugging my fabrics. (I realize now how ridiculous I am I didn’t even know if I actually had bed bugs but I convinced myself that I did and went about the treatment as such. This included drying everything first, washing, and then drying again). Millions of hours later I was finally finished with my laundry which was now pilled to the ceiling of my “foyer” in large garbage bags. (I use the term foyer loosely here. It is really a 4-foot space in front of my apartment door where my bookshelf and granny cart live.)

Whilst awaiting the exterminator’s appearance I decided it was wise to begin taking out my twists. About an hour into it, the exterminator showed up and that’s when things got even more humiliating. I didn’t want to frighten the man with my partially fro’d mostly twisted head so I shoved on a colorful knit cap that my mama used to wear. He went about inspecting my tiny studio and though he found no evidence of bugs I insisted that he treat my apartment anyway. (Recall my irrational fear of bugs.)

Here’s the awkward part. I’m a very friendly person, so that exterminator and I began having a smooth chat, which was fine with me. As he was spraying the beloved bug-be-gone he began to slyly try and figure out if I was single. He commented on one of my pictures and asked if the guy in it was my man. He also asked what I enjoyed doing and inferred that he as well liked the same activities. Now I have nothing against exterminators in general, but I despise when people come to my house to do a service and they try and flirt with me. It’s awkward and uncomfortable. Just like the time the refrigerator man told me I had beautiful feet and asked if we could exchange “pictures”.

Therefore I acted oblivious to his dreadful flirtations and seriously contemplated whipping off my knit cap to continue taking down my twists. I restrained myself and contained my laughter when the man told me my hair was beautiful and asked how long I’d been growing it out. (I couldn’t understand this question. He was Black!) After staring at him in disbelief I calmly explained to him that they were extensions. I smiled, paid him for his services and sent him on his way.

After shutting the door behind him I turned fully ready to exhale in relief and get back to Leo’s acceptance at the Globes, but that was not to be the case. Instead I screamed in horror……

There sitting on my nightstand, right next to my bed where the man had spent the majority of his 45 minutes in my dwelling was my Battery Operated Boyfriend in all of its hot pink glory. (I have no clue how I missed it. I was probably just exhausted from the previous foolery of the day and I was too focused on trying to hurry the man along so I could get back to my hair.)

Now I know why he was so damn eager. He obviously thought I was the harlot of Harlem who left sex toys strewn about her apartment for strangers to see. SMH

Until next time, a slightly humiliated, unemployed, but bed bug free

Chocolate Girl In the City xoxoxox

A Small Blurb On Blogging

I started blogging the year after my mother passed. It’s been sort of a therapeutic thing for me, a way to get out any angst or any emotions that I’ve been feeling. My intent with this blog is to try and give some perspective on my life as a twenty-something Black woman. There are some extraordinary things about me I think. (I lost both my parents before the age of 22, I have an almost-Master’s degree (Feb12th), I’m very dark skin, etc) and some things about me are pretty regular. (I enjoy a good weave, I love shopping, food, and TV and my dating life is often a series of unfortunate events).  You can refer to this blog to learn all about the time this boy I was dating stole ALL of my electronics. Shit Happens

I’m not perfect. I’ve never suggested that I was. I’m as bougie (call it stuck-up if you’d like) as they come, but I certainly don’t look down on people. I will however, give you the side eye if you do things that lack foresight and consideration for others. My two rules to live by in life are, “To treat others the way you want to be treated” and “never make a mistake that you cannot fix”. With that being said, I’ve never laughed at anyone’s plight (that wasn’t my own). I’ll usually put an LOL next to something if I’m saying it as a joke. I’ve tried to protect the identities of people that I may touch upon in my writings when I felt the topics were “sensitive”.

Still, people are bound to feel attacked when written about and I suppose that’s their right. If I had known what would have occurred as a result of my previous post, then obviously I would have edited words or amended things without retracting my opinion of course. (Everyone has their own opinion and everyone has their truth, what’s written here just happened to be mine.)  However, what I don’t find acceptable is being threatened with violence or being called out of my name. Nor do I condone attempted intimidation and other nonsense.  I realize more than ever that not everyone is going to like and appreciate what you say however; some things are just always deplorable.

All this is to say this is not a platform to EXPOSE other people’s personal business by giving details and so forth. Chocolate Girl in the City is a blog about me and the things that have happened to me.  My previous blog was simply about speaking up for myself instead of being passive and timid.  The examples used were tiny snippets of the things that have occurred in my life in the past year or so.

With that being said, to anyone out there who wants to write about things that have happened to them personally then I say go right ahead. In my opinion it’s important to talk about the things that hurt us. Marlon Riggs once said, “The only cure to what ails us it to talk about it.”

I’ll end this short blurb by saying this. “You own everything that happened to you. Tell your stories. If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should’ve behaved better.”

Hope ya’ll aren’t freezing

Xoxoxo Chocolate Girl In the City xoxoxoxox

Saying NO to others so I can say YES to myself

(Usually I'm not too big on New Years Resolutions but there is something major that I want to work on in 2014 so I thought I'd share.)

I struggle with confrontations, I’ve pretty much always been wary of them. I tend to shut down when I’m personally confronted and I usually plot how to swiftly remove myself from any situations that I find threatening.  Now as a girl who is proudly as bougie as possible, I could chalk this all up to trying to always keep it classy. Unfortunately, being non-confrontational doesn’t always equate to avoiding messy ass situations. Instead, I’ve found that I tend to slide into a doormat or submissive (not in the kinky way) role in my relationships. This tends to lead to the very messiness that I was trying to avoid to begin with.

I’m an extravert who loves and gets along with most people so I tend to be a people pleaser. Maybe this has something to do with my birth order; I’m the older sister. However, it was my baby sister who always spoke up for us when we felt threatened or attacked.  Sister has never been afraid to hurt anyone’s feelings especially at the expense of her or my own well-being. I’m simply more sensitive in some ways, and I don’t like when people are upset especially when their wrath is directed at me.

Anyways, this whole people pleasing, always saying Yes to others, doormat shit has gotten me into pickles time and time again. I’ve always been very aware of this aspect of my personality but in 2013 it really seemed to get me into trouble.

My dad’s illness took a turn for the worst last November shortly before he passed in February. During that three-month period, I was constantly going back and forth between Chicago and New York. During the holidays last year, I found myself ripping and running across the city. I was trying to make sure that my dad had everything that he needed, that he got to his appointments on time, and so forth. Now anyone who knows me knows that coffee and I are in an unbreakable and committed relationship. Chocolate Girl does not exist without coffee. The higher my stress level, the more coffee I consume.  Needless to say I spent the majority of last winter with a near lethal amount of caffeine in my system and a coffee cup perpetually glued to my hand.  One particular day I was visiting with my Dad and one of his “people” was there as well. (Mind you I’ve met the women all of twice in my life). I had just placed my coffee cup down on the coffee table next to her crusty feet (yes her feet were on the coffee table! Where are they doing that?!))  when she politely told me, “Aramide, I would prefer that you did not drink coffee”…..

Needless to say I was flabbergasted. Luckily my sister was not present for this incident, for I am certain that things would have taken quite a poor turn rather quickly. I didn’t respond at all. I just picked up my cup and drank. (I had nothing kind to say so I chose to say nothing all. My mama raised me right).

(This incident reminds me of the day I graduated from undergrad and my dad’s sister asked when I was getting married, because I was getting up in age and marriage was something that I ought to be considering. -_-)

Still, the coffee incident was only the beginning.   A few months later, one of my family members gave me a full ass lecture about my dating life. (I was dating an older man, who treated me well and respected me.) Meanwhile the family member’s love life was literally Hiroshima. Think of some of the most foolish Maury shit you’ve ever seen and go with that. (I just listened to the lecture and said nothing; once again my sister was not present.)

 After my dad passed, I had people lie to my face about taking my dad’s money and electronics. I got a lecture about my father’s tombstone because I didn’t have it put in on someone else’s timeline. I was TOLD, to just let else someone handle it. (Of course I kept it cute when I politely refused). This is after his entire funeral was arranged without any consultation with my sister or myself. This kind of stuff always gets filtered my way because Sister refuses to deal with foolery, and people know well enough not to fu*k with her.

Anyways after ending my first full year of grad school I headed home to clean my parents house out which was in a shitastic state. My mom passed in August of 2010 and we had never cleaned her things out of the home. Over the years my dad kept bringing more and more stuff into the house. So here we were parentless with 20plus years of life to clean out of a home.  Sister and I would get up every morning and clean and organize and by the end of the day it still looked like we hadn’t done anything at all. We were drowning both physically and emotionally. It was sister who finally said: FUCK THIS! THIS IS SHIT & WE DON’T HAVE TO DEAL! She  then informed the powers at be was going to happened. And I picked up the phone and called 1800JUNK.

This only happened because sister was there. Had it been me, I would have probably still been cleaning. Instead because sister said NO to others and YES to our well being. The house has been sold for months now.

Still with that example fresh in my brain I returned to New York still struggling with my ability to be bold, stand up and say NO. Instead, I found myself continually cornered. I let people invade my space when I didn’t want them there and I found myself in situations I would rather not be in.  I have a fear of hurting people’s feelings.  As I placed myself in situation after situation and after being irritated and annoyed, I’ve finally decided that I will no longer force myself to suffer. I shall move forward into 2014 grasping onto the word NO!

No, you cannot come into my apartment and use my space without asking. No I don’t want to go hang out with people I’m sure I won’t enjoy, No I don’t need you to make major decisions about my life I’m pretty sure I have that covered. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not mean and pissy about it but I recognize that part of being an adult is doing what the F I want, when the F I want to do it. I’m not perfect and I can still find myself in prickly situations but when I do the only person that I can blame is myself.  Meanwhile, I shall live my life according to my own terms and not allow myself to be conned into foolery

Happy New Year xoxoxox Chocolate Girl In the City

PS. My other “Resolutions”: Stop obsessing about my weight, travel more (not just to Chicago), date more.

School Was My Hustle: Grad School & The Job Hunt (Part 1)

Last Thursday I turned in my thesis for my Master’s degree. I suppose it’s what I’ve been working toward since I began my journey of higher education almost five and half years ago.  A year and a half ago, coming out of undergrad I didn’t know much. (Still don’t know a lot). However, I knew that I didn’t want to return home to Chicago and I also knew I didn’t want to work fifty hours a week for slave wages. Since I can remember I’ve been good at school. It’s been my ‘hustle’ of sorts. So it seemed like the natural step to take my behind uptown to Columbia to get my graduate degree in Film Studies (the same field as my undergrad degree).

Prior to accepting my place at Columbia, I was told by countless individuals that perhaps getting my degree in the same field wasn’t the wisest choice. And that advice was actually probably spot on. I probably should have gotten my MA or PhD in Africana Studies.  But as a wise man once told me, it’s Columbia and you don’t turn down Columbia.  Still, I had the opportunity to take some classes in the Africana Studies department whilst obtaining my MA, and those were the classes where I actually got A’s and kept up with the reading and was enthusiastic. It was in those classes taught by people of color with students of color, which helped me begin to shape my thesis.  I won’t lie, I was fairly miserable in my MA film classes.  I’m not saying the faculty wasn’t up to par; I was just bored and uninterested. Frankly I spent a great deal of time being irritated that I was the only Black person or brown person for that matter in my program.  I also lost my dad at the beginning of the second semester, which was devastating for me, and caused me to retreat inward. (I’m severely non-confrontational and my coping mechanism is to retreat.)

Luckily as I tend to do, I figured it out. I made it out with a pretty decent GPA, a piece that I’m extremely proud of, and a full ass graduate degree from an Ivy League University. Not so shabby I’d say. The question that I’m grappling with now is what’s next?

On Figuring Out What's Next

Probably almost a year ago now, my best friend called me all excited. She’d just finished reading this book called The Defining Decade: Why Your Twenties Matter-and How to Make The Most of Them.  She raved about the physiologist who wrote the book and she talked to me about the different case studies that were presented. I promised to read it ASAP. Well, seasons passed as they do in life, and the book just sat on my Kindle wish list. This past October my best friend came to NYC to visit and she brought with her a hard copy of the book. I picked it up two days ago and I’ve nearly finished. The book promoted me to write about my own experiences, specifically about work/career thus far.

WORK.  I’m certainly no stranger to it. Since leaving my graduate assistant-ship in May my brain has been consumed with the idea of work, of finding that job, that career starter. I won’t lie my motivations are mostly money driven; I want nice things (a nicer apartment, more clothes, traveling funds, etc). The position I had all of last year was fine, but when the school year ended I decided not to continue, hoping to find something in my field. Higher education was never anything that I’ve been interested in, and the office environment where my position was held was rapidly changing and not in a good way.  So I went home to Chicago for a while, got my parents house cleaned out and placed on the market and came back to NYC for a summer position.  I won’t say much about the summer position other than, I will NEVER do something like that EVER again. The saving grace for me was that it was a couple of blocks away from my apartment so I didn’t have to pay that $112 monthly Metro card.   At the end of the summer, I was offered a position there permanently, which I swiftly turned down with a polite NO. So there I was jobless with a full thesis to write.  Though I was still a full time graduate student, I felt, and I still feel that I should often be doing more. More of what? I don’t know but definitely more of something.  I interviewed for a couple of full time positions and though I made it to the final stages of the interview processes I was turned down in favor of someone who had more experience.

Things I say when I'm feeling sorry for myself

 I’ve found in my measly years on this earth that blessings are often hidden in setbacks. A woman who I interviewed with for a job I did not get told me that a really great company was looking for interns.  I was irritated. My resume is FULL of internships. I’ve gone on a MILLION coffee runs, I’ve babysat dogs in luxury apartments in Mid-town and I’ve been treated like trash all in the name of an internship (All this while going to school full-time, working part-time and being an RA slave). SMH.  Anyways I ended up accepting an internship with this company and it turned out to be a great experience. Everyone was extremely nice and respectful, I felt moderately useful most of the time and in my downtime I worked on my thesis.

And yet, the money was still on my mind. For the past three months, while interning and writing my thesis. I submitted hundreds and hundreds of cover letters and resumes to no avail. As Thanksgiving grew near I became more and more anxious.  I attended THREE career sessions and several panels, to try and get better insight into the entertainment job market.  Not to be rude but after awhile it’s the same ole  shit. It was the final two career appointments the put me over the edge. I was told that perhaps I should continue interning and that maybe I should consider this that or the third which had NOTHING to do with what the F I want to do! Like I said, I’m very non-confrontational by default but I was forced to get the women in my final career advisement appointment together. 

My response when I was told to try for another internship SMH

I sat there and listen to her spout the same crap I’ve been told time and time again. “But your only 23, you’ll land on your feet. I’m not worried about you...” Blah Blah Blah LISTEN I know these people meant well but honestly, I felt that advice and affirmations like that are both condescending and unhelpful. I have no interest in just “landing on my feet” so to speak. I realize the economy is still shit but, I’ve worked damn hard and whatever job I receive will be both meaningful and a stepping-stone. If I wanted to do just anything or work anywhere, I would have accepted the job that I was offered at the end of the summer. Or, I would have taken this other position I was offered recently where I was going to be paid minimum wage. Do I put a lot of pressure on myself? Yes, I probably do but it’s because I know how great I can be. Reading just the first section of Defining the Decadehelp reaffirm that for me.

 Being 20something obviously means being plagued with uncertainty. I’m already a chronic worrier (I’m trying to do better). But, there are some things I DO know. I know what I am passionate about and what I am capable of. If I’m going to spend my days worrying about my weight, my new hairstyle, or guys, or whatever; then at the very least my work life should have some direction. It should have some intention to it.  Yes, I could spend my time just anywhere for now and wait and worry about “later” however, “Doing something later is not the same as doing something better.”

 

So I left that final career advisement appointment feeling extremely pressed. I still had my thesis to edit and my inbox was about as dry as possible in terms of the job hunt.  Just as I began kinda sorta pondering a PhD program things began to happen. I got the ok to write for any extremely dope website which I’ve mentioned here before. (Hopefully I will have some great posts there I can share in the New Year). I got a job interview with a really cool company that I’m waiting to hear back from. And, most excitingly a recruiter for a huge media conglomerate got in touch with me about two job positions that I’ve had the opportunity to interview for. So for now, I’m playing the waiting game and that’s not necessarily comfortable but in my opinion its better than taking “just anything.”

To Be Continued

Xoxoxo Chocolate Girl In the City xoxoxoxo

Eastern Standard Time

A few weeks ago I spent the weekend in DC and I fell in love; which I'm rather shocked about. Besides the loyalty that I feel toward my hometown of Chicago, I've never really been drawn to any other city aside from New York.  For as long as I can remember I have dreamed of living in NYC. When it came time to apply for undergrad, I sent my application off to my dream school and I hoped to sweet baby Jesus that I would some how get in. I did. And about 8 months later I found myself crying as I said goodbye to my parents and sister and boarded a United flight with three huge suitcases. It only took a few weeks for me to realize that I had no idea what I had gotten myself into. This clearly wasn't going to the the chocolate girl version of Le Sex and the City.  Instead, I called my mamma every night  crying and plotting my way home and away from the University that I now call my alma mater.  Miraculously, I stuck it out and  five years later I'm still here (albeit in a much better neighborhood and state of mind). Though I've been considering alternative cities as I finish up my Master's degree in the coming months, I don't think I really was serious about any of them until I carried myself (and way too much clothing for two days) to DC.  Have you ever felt like you just belonged somewhere, that you were completely at ease and free? There are so many exceptional people living in DC, you can feel the energy there its very young and up and coming. But its warm as well, men open doors, people use their manners. Its just easier, a bit slower, and a bit more sane. I guess I didn't realize how lonesome I was for the type of energy or maybe even more for the type of people that I was surrounded by that weekend. All I know is that though I'm head over heels in love with NYC, there is certainly some room in my heart for DC.  For now I suppose DC is my infatuation because as the bus rolled down the NJ Turnpike and I watched the sun setting on the skyline as we approached the city, I remembered why I loved NYC in the first place. I've been in love with it ever since I've heard these words.

" A city like New York ,  where everything is moving all of the time at this constant driving pace. It’s like a living organism, breathing and chainging. And, over time youre relastionship to becomes like this  incredible romance. At first, its intoxicating, irresistible. Then slowly it becomes comfortable and safe. You have this cellular connection to it . As if you’ve known each other forever like your oldest happiness and sometimes you’re on the outs and sometimes you’re making up.  And every now and then you catch yourself in this transcendent moment, where you think to your self. Oh my God I’m madly in love with you and I always will be." ~ Eastern Standard Time

However I will say if the right oppurtunity presents itself. I won't hesistate to pack mysef up for an adventure in the DMV.

xoxoxox Chocolate Girl In the City xoxoxoxoWords of Wisdom

I’m Done Answering Questions About My Hair & Other Things That Irritate Me

***I wrote this post a couple of weeks ago on a turbulence riddled flight from Chicago to New York. At the time, I suppose I was just feeling some type of way, and as usual the page served as my outlet. Since I felt so much better after having said my peace, I really had no desire to actually publish the post to my blog. However, this past weekend (on my birthday), a non-guilty verdict was given with regards to the Trayvon Martin killing. Needless to say I haven't felt much peace since then.  I'm not going to speak much about the fuckery that was displayed before , during and after the trial because many have said it better with much more wisdom and truth than I will ever be able to. Instead, I went to the rally for Trayvon in Harlem, I've signed the petition on the NAACP's website, I've called my best friend and discussed it at length and I've just prayed continuously for Trayvon's family and for the sick people that continue to pollute our beautiful world and massacre our people. I have nothing else constructive to say about the situation so I won't. Instead I will refer you to my rant from a few weeks back on some shit that has been irritating me lately.***

"I would say that in general I’m a fairly even-tempered individual  most of the time. It takes a lot to rile me up and  I tend to avoid confrontation at all cost. If I need to read someone usually my baby sister does it for me. However, there are some things that irritate me and because I’m currently on a turbulence riddled plane after stewing in the airport during a two hour flight delay, I think I shall talk about all the things that really bring out my type A personality." 

Questions About My Hair: I’ve been pretty open about my hair, being natural, letting people  (people that I know) touch it and so forth for the past five years.  I’m over it. Don’t ask me shit, If you don’t know, YouTube it or watch Good Hair or ask another Black person. I’ve paid my dues. (I say this in this nicest way possible)

       Constant Complaining: Everyone has good and bad days. I complain at times (I’m doing so right now). But constantly, and all the time?!!!!  Girl please get your life I don’t have time. That’s what’s therapy is for!! I Can't!! You’re sucking the life out of me.

        Laziness:During undergrad I worked part-time, had a internship, was an RA and still graduated with honors. It’s your life what you put in is what you get out. Grown people please refrain from whining. At a certain point its your life and whatever it is that you're dealing with is quite often a result of your own choices or lack thereof.

        Entitled People Who Haven’t Worked For Shit: I encountered this on a daily basis at my undergrad. I’d just like to inform you types that you won’t go far in life.

       Airports:  I usually get to the gate as my flight is boarding. Sitting in a airport all day irritates me. I suppose this goes with waiting in general. I don’t do well waiting on other people. I think it comes from living by myself. (Some days I’m more patient than others.... mostly when there is food involved :))

       People Whose Lives Are In Shambles And Yet Constantly Try to Advise You: Real life Tyrese Gibsons. Please find a stadium and have a seat. I'll make sure you're the first call I make when I want to be as messy as possible. 

       Slow Moving People: I think this is because I’ve lived in NYC for the past five years. But girl, if you’re gonna move like molasses please slide your ass to one side of the walk way. Why are you taking up the entire sidewalk and  holding people up?!!! (This also goes for people who stand in doorways and at train exits so people getting on and off have to meander around them :/)

       Gut Busters:  Girl…. Now I realize that it is summer and therefore 750 degrees. However, let  it be advised that your cellulite and giggly puffs on display for all those to see are not cute. I shall say I’m not a tiny woman, but I’ve never had  a gut either. Even still when I wear something form fitting best believe I have no shame in putting on spanks to make sure everything is as nice and tight as possible. The atrocities that I see in my neighborhood on a daily basis surely motivate me to get in the gym at least every other day.  

       Know It Alls: You really don’t know much. I hate to burst your bubble but you’re actually rather incompetent.

       Fuck Boys: "Men who act like it's their job to coach woman into being what they want them to be!" ~ Crissles  (Basically all the sexist misogynist assholes who can't even keep a decent job. As usual Crissles says it better than I .) The Read "Say No to Fu*k Boys"  Begin at 54 mins in.

        Ok I feel much better now. I apologize if I’ve offended anyone but I was feeling a bit pressed. Now that the plane has evened out I’m feeling much better."

xoxoxo Choocolate Girl in the City xoxoxox

“Hey Black Girl" Part II: Thoughts on the "Dark Girls" Documentary

In my previous post I discussed my personal experiences growing up with very dark skin so now I want to get into the actual Dark Girls documentary.  In spite of my irritation with the trailer two years ago, I really enjoyed the film itself. It was very well done and I’m actually horrified that it took so long to be distributed to the public. I found that the experiences were enlightening, and the directors were sure to gain insight from a vast number of people.  Everyone from  white men who dated darker skinned women to Black people globally whose cultures were riddled with their own issues concerning skin color (skin bleaching and the like) put in their two cents. I think what stood out to me the most in the film were two things.  One was how the disdain for dark skin was passed down from generation to generation. And secondly as always  was the opinion of Black men concerning darker skinned Black women.

I’ll address dark skin as its perceived throughout the generations in the  Black American community first.  I think that what we teach our children has the most profound impact on who they are as people. I believe that because my parents instilled in me that I was beautiful no matter what did a great service for me as an individual. If we as a people continue to hate ourselves, and our children pick up on it then of course this problem will continue to fester into the next generation and the next.

 I’ve written before that the ignorance that permeates in our community is a large part of what continues to ail us. (This can be seen when we consider education, sexual health, sexual preference, health in general and so forth). It's something that we have to unlearn so that we do not continue to foster it.)  I think once we begin to consider things that make a person great despite their physical appearance then we will begin to move forward. In the documentary, there was the cutest little chocolate girl talking her skin with her mother.  I honestly found myself rather irritated the entire time. The mother, was a lighter brown woman who essentially said that before she had her daughter she never considered the plight of darker skinned women. I can’t fault her for that, but what I can fault her for was the fact that during the duration of the documentary her daughter barely looked into the camera. She at the age of seven or eight was already ashamed of her appearance. I don’t care what anyone says, that’s not something that just learned from the outside world. That's something you pick up at home before you interact with others. The older generation and those who are having kids especially, need to unlearn their own prejudices and ignorance.

Now on to addressing Black men. Actually, I won’t address Black men, instead I’ll address Black women of all colors, sizes and so forth. I’ll specifically address myself because I’m also guilty. We as women, need to STOP allowing men to define our beauty and how we feel about ourselves. Its really that simple. Once we begin to do that a lot of these fuck boyz (definition from Crissle )will no longer be a factor in our lives. Its really disturbing that as women we have allowed them to define who we should be, how we should look and so forth when quite frankly a vast majority of them are no where near up to par. (Now that was a partial read to Black men I realize that not all of you fall into this category so I choose to address those of you who are).  As I’ve repeatedly said, your preference is your preference but do not shame or look down upon Black women who do not fit into whatever standard that you’ve molded for the woman that you want to be with. Ok that was my read. LOL

So anyway, the Dark Girls documentary was well done. Honestly its nothing that many of us “dark girls” haven’t thought of or considered before but its something that I believe everyone should see. In order to see any change we must first change our behavior as a people.

Xoxox Chocolate  Girl  in the City xoxoxoxo

Ps. If you are not subscribed to Kid Fury and Crissle's podcast The Read. You haven't lived. I recommend listening at the gym. You'll get the best work out of your life.

http://sofurious.com/category/the-read/

"Hey Black Girl" Part 1: Growing Up Dark

Me, Daddy and Sister :)

Two years ago in one of my very first post for this blog, I wrote about my opinion on the trailer for the documentary "Dark Girls" that had  recently hit the net.

You can read that post here Thoughts on the Dark Girls Trailer.  I basically wrote what I thought about the 8 min clip having not actually seen the film in its entirety.

Two years later, the documentary had finally finally premier on  the OWN network and I'm here to write my reviews and opinions about what I saw as well as including my own experience as a very dark Black women

My foundation color is NW55 at MAC if that means anything do you. I got my coloring from my Nigerian Daddy. He and I were actually the exact same color so as a tot up until probably second grade I really didn't feel one way or another about my complexion (Now my hair was another story, I struggled with that for the first 21 years of my life). But back to being dark, my parents and family always made me feel loved and supported so their was never an issue at home. When I walked into a room my daddy would smile wide and say "Hey Black Girl" it thrilled me. He did that for as long as I can remember. Darkness and Blackness was never a derogatory word in my home. My mom and little sister were more of a toffee color but it was never acknowledged as a difference which is why when I got to about second grade I got my first real taste of colorism from my fellow classmates.

One of the moments that stands out to me the most was when a girl asked me why the inside of my hands were so Black. She said it with disgusts as if I was dirty and didn't wash my hands on a regular basis.  I'm not really a timid person but I've always been non-confrontational and I believe that was one of those defining moments where I didn't stick up for myself which became pattern; something I still struggle with. In elementary school I had great friends, and I remember being generally well-liked by everyone. However, the most popular girls in my class were lighter skinned, they were the cool ones that the boys liked, the one's whose parents were less strict and so forth. They could also be mean girls if given half the chance. Overall though, elementary school was relatively painless for me save a few incidents over the years. I was lucky because my school was teeny tiny and we pretty much had all been together since kindergarten.

Elementary School

I was in for a rude awakening when I got to middle school. Now my middle school situation was tragic to say the least.  To be honest, I don't remember much. I'm certain I've suppressed some memories because they were traumatizing. After leaving my tiny grammar school, I spent my 7th and 8th grade years at a huge high school with a ton of different types of kids. I was fairly sheltered so this was my first experience in the "real world".  Middle school was were I got my street smarts, sex education and the like. I remember being terrorized by one boy in particular who used to call me ugly because I was dark pretty much every day of seventh grade.  He finally stopped at the end of the year when  I politely hit him in the head with our history text book which sent him flying down the stairs.

Another boy asked me why I wore so much color. He said I was way too dark to be wearing bright colors and that I should stick to neutrals.  Once again these were just a few of the defining moments that I can recall, but there were always side comments or little slights from lighter skinned people who I considered to be my friends and confidants. It was as if jabbing at me would somehow improve their self worth. Stupidly, as we all are at thirteen, I refused to discuss these happenings with my mother and instead I internalized everything that was happening around me.

Needless to say I was thrilled to leave behind that environment when I got into a multiracial high school across the city. It was here where I would learn to interact with people of all races and backgrounds. Unfortunately however, by 9th grade my self-esteem was pretty shot.

High school was a much more pleasant experience than middle school. I quickly found friends and activities to be involved in. However, two instances of ignorance still stick out to me. In 9th grade I tried out for the cheer-leading squad and made it. At first, I was really excited about it. I was enthusiastic and looked forward to the practices and the games. However, my coach was a nightmare. She was an overweight woman about my complexion who used to give us all hell. However, when she came for me me it was often to tease me about my name or make some snide comment that led me to believe that she was color-struck. Overall the woman was ignorant and I quit the squad by the second semester.

When I was 16 I got my first boyfriend and all of the drama that came along with that. I remember chatting with a couple of girlfriends at lunch about him. A guy from my class came up to the table and exclaimed "You have a boyfriend?!!! But you're so Black!!"  (He was dead ass) My friends were horrified and I brushed the comment off in the moment. But I was really hurt by it. I later told my boyfriend at the time, and  he said "Well, I love dark girls" LOL and that was that.  In high school myself esteem continued to be on the mend. Still, there were times when I downed my self based on my complexion (ie: He cheated on me because I'm dark...so on and so forth).  Luckily with age comes wisdom, growth and understanding.

Prom :) (I skipped middle school because, Lord I looked a fool)

Fortunately throughout my college years and into adulthood, I've had very little combative statements that have been said about my color, but their have been a couple. Once a Black guy in undergrad told me I was the prettiest dark skin girl he'd ever seen ;/. I'm not so timid now so I'm sure I  politely read him for filth. Once in class a white guy pointed me out and used my darkness and an example in his statement. My prof (a young Black man) ridiculed him as did my fellow classmates so I just got to sit pretty. Attending a predominantly white university really erases the color spectrum on some levels and you're labeled "Black" regardless of complexion

College Graduation

I've never had a problem with attracting men (well maybe the right kind of men LOL) but most of the guys I've dated seem to have a preference for darker skinned women. I've also recently been getting approached by ALOT more white men.  When I went to Jamaica last summer, it was like the men were obsessed with dark skin women it was kind of ridiculous.

I think overall, I've been pretty blessed in dealing with my status as a "dark girl", I've definitely embraced it over the years. Once I stopped buying into degrading nonsense about my skin I've found that my life has gone much more smoothly. This is not to say that I don't at times have moments of foolish insecurity.

I suppose the thing that continues to dig at me has to do with some Black men's take on Dark skinned Black women. For one thing, I think that Dark skin Black men are some of the most desired people on this earth which is why it's so peculiar that dark skinned black women are degraded and looked down upon.  Let me just say, I could never fault a brotha for his preference. You're attracted to whom you are attracted to (heck,I think both Kevin McCall and John Slatterly are sexy as hell) For me I just enjoy men. What I find disturbing is when Black men start claiming they want a red bone this or a light skin that (Like boy, what does that even men??!?!?!) . Or even more hilarious when you see them in the neighborhood with a non-Black woman and their avoiding eye contact with any Black women they may come across.  Negro please!!!

Preference is preference but I think its so disheartening for Black men to degrade dark and/or Black women especially because they came from one, and any daughter that they may have will be one.  ASAP Rocky and Lil Wayne's opinions on women are irrelevant to me as a person with an IQ and I wouldn't be caught dead with anyone who values the colorist and sexist remarks that they put forth.  Overall, I think the best that anyone of us can do for ourselves it to live a life that we're proud of, one that makes us happy and that's what I strive to do on a daily basis. Everything else is gravy because as my mama use to say, "All I gotta do is stay Black and die"  ;)

Me being exactly who I am with my chocolate ass foundation in my hand :D

So I'll say to my fellow dark girls and to all women and people who are living in this hetero-normative, white centric society. Embrace yourself and do what makes you happy. Life's way too short for any nonsense and if you don't love yourself I promise you, no one else will.

xoxox Chocolate Girl in the City xoxoxox

PS. Stay tuned for Part II on the documentary itself

GIRLS (The Chocolate Girl Version)

I must admit, despite her lack of ethnic characters I got a smooth kick out of Lena Dunham’s GIRLS.  (At least until the middle of the second season :/). I think that anybody in their early to mid- twenties especially if you’re living in a crazy town like NYC feels lost and confused most days. Hell, one of the main reasons why I went straight to grad school from undergrad was because I couldn’t bare the thought of sitting in a cubicle for forty hours a week -__ - (plus I made a solemn vow to my cousins to stay off the pole LMAO). Also this intro salary shit wasn’t cutting it for me. I mean first there is this foolish ass NYC rent and then this inflated ass monthly metro card!!! I can barely afford to visit my beloved Trader Joes and download trash twice a week on my Kindle!! Can I get some new shoes/clothes once in a while? Well anyways I wasn't here for working like a dog for $30,000/year in NYC (Yes I think I’m special. Yes, I will probably be thrilled to accept that salary in the coming weeks). But anyway, nothing is perfect but I’m quite pleased with the life that I've built for myself. I arrived in NYC alone almost five years ago with two huge suitcases and a dorm assignment. (I’m not saying I did it all on my own, but damn sure no one held my hand). So now, I'm in my own little apartment, in a whole different neighborhood and I’ve figured out through trial and error how to take care of myself.   I'm still figuring it out and I'll admit that some days are more tragic than others.  But I think I've done a pretty good job. Let's review shall we :)

There was the time I got sick at the UPS store and vomited in the trash can because I decided it would be wise to begin taking One-A-Day Women's Multivitamins. (humiliating). A few months ago, I attempted to change a light bulb in my room and I broke my bed. (I never put it together properly in the first place. I was alone when IKEA delivered it and after 12 hours and crying to my daddy I put the steal beam thru the center and decided it was good enough). Or there was the time when the really dope guy I meet at Apple (he worked there) turned out to be a male escort. Or the time I thought I could date a guy who was shorter than me (I ‘m 5’ 3”) and who I outweighed by 30 lbs. There was also that one time when I went out with my girlfriends and the stamp that I got at the bar door didn’t show up and the bartender wouldn’t serve me. (chocolate girl problems).

Once I saw Chris Noth (Mr. Big from Sex and the City) getting burgers and instead of being a normal human being I yelled Mr. BIG!!!!! ( I don’t deserve compassion). I think I’ve previously mentioned the time I fell on the treadmill at the gym and no one helped me. That one time when I got fired three weeks before the end of college from being an RA.  Or that time when I got all my electronics stolen by I guy I had been seeing. Or that one time during Hurricane Sandy when I was the only one who had power and three people came to stay with me (in my studio apartment). Or that tragic time when I went to visit my auntie and uncle and the bus broke down in Baltimore (I had just finished The Wire).  

 That awkward time when I scratched one of my vital lady parts (no details shall be given). I nearly got frost bite from waiting on ice at Rockefeller Center for Mariah Carey  with my BFF (I left after two hours without seeing her, no one but Jesus himself is worth that wait). Or that time the old man (who has possibly born during Reconstruction) who pretends to be a doorman in my building (he sits on a lawn chair in our lobby) molested my boob.

These are just a few of the many bluders that I've had since moving to NYC and I'm sure that I will have many more. When I get my Master's in February, there won't be a reason for me to stay in the city any longer. I'm hoping that by then I have some epic job or reason to stay but if not; New York I love you. You've forever changed me :)

xoxoxox Chocolate Girl In the City xoxoxoxo

BTW:

In my Mother's house, there's a photograph of a day gone past...always makes me laugh.

Home

Once again like I always do, I will ask that you excuse me for slipping into oblivion. I have a legitimate excuse this time.  a lot has happened, much has changed, things have shifted. By the skin of my narrow Black ass I manage to finished my Master's classes with A's and B's (some I deserved and some I didn't). Once again I find myself back in my hometown. The the place where I grew up is forever changing and yet, always the same. Its strange being here again, surrounded by memories, and moments just out of reach in this empty house. I'm not alone, not really, my sister is ever present, my family is in and out helping us pack up and purge and reminisce. But its not the same as it once was,not really. My dad isn't in the den on the green leather couch watching Pride and Prejudice on an endless loop. Its Sunday today, so my mama would have been making pancakes, loudly laughing on the phone, gossiping with some sister or some friends. Its not quite noon yet so I would have just been waking, the smells of butter and sausages would have assaulted my senses drifting upward into my third floor lair.

Instead, I've been up for hours. It cold here and silent. Though my favorite season is rapidly approaching I've been fiddling with the thermostat this last week or so. When I yell up to my sister about this thing or that the echo of my voice beams through the house. An echo that hadn't been there before. Its empty because they're gone. They've left this world.

I remember before my mom passed nearly three years ago I had a lot of fears. Like small anxieties that would burden my heart (I randomly developed a fear of flying and I was scared to drive on the highway because I was sure that I was going to get hit by a truck.) After she passed none of those fears consumed me anymore. There wasn’t much left that could hurt me, that could affect me so drastically. My dad passed just over three months ago. Ironically, I’ve been on more planes than I can think this year and its only May. My reactions to both of my parents deaths are strange and honestly I feel like I don’t speak about them much. My mom passed and I had to be be back at school nine days later. I was going into my junior year in college. I got the call about my dad in between my two mandatory three hours Master’s film studies classes. I hopped on a plane shortly thereafter. It was a Tuesday, I was back in class Monday. I didn’t really cry with my dad, still haven’t shed too many tears. Maybe its because I feel that funerals are these contrived things, like people carry on and on and act so upset but I think to myself, where was all this emotion when the person was living.

            I guess the real reason that I'm writing this post is because, people go through things, but the world keeps turning, The city wakes from its slumber, holidays and birthdays and heartbreak and vacations and the whole still come and go year after year.   What's left behind after a person leaves is just their stuff. I've pulled out trinkets and china sets and clothing from the eighties and pictures of my mom's old boyfriends and sing-along from my childhood. And they've stacked up. In the kitchen, living room, dining room, basement.  Things long forgotten about or things simply meant to be displayed, never touched, or handled or really seen.  These things just become stuff, some things sentimental and worth saving and others better off with someone who really needs them. Some family that could really make use of them.

I've been dreading coming back here, probably since my mother died. My parents were mini- hoarders and the house is large enough to hold a lot of stuff without it outwardly appearing cluttered. In these last two weeks My sister and I have waded our way through the books and the paintings and the nick knacks. Strangely, though its been difficult, we haven't felt the need to keep much because I guess we know that this wasn't them, not really.

A part of me is itching to get back to New York, to my life and my apartment away from the things left behind. And another part, albeit a smaller part never wants to leave this place, the laughter and Christmas parties and the teenage standoffs between my mama and myself. My dad praying in the background or reading his Qu'ran. It was always home even when it got really bad.  It'll never be the same though.  I just bag things up and wrap the fragiles with care. And as this old life fades, this childhood days, these memories, I think how lucky I've been and all the experiences that have yet to come.  I try not to dwell in sadness or negativity, because that's more crippling than the empty house and the cold spaces.

The house will be on the market soon, so these are probably some of the last weeks I'll spend in it. I've only ever lived here (Until I moved for college and grad school). I think what I've learned out of losing both of them is how to let go, of bad memories and meaningless things, and people who weigh you down. Because life is too short and so precious. Why waste it grasping on to what is no longer there or even worse what was never there to begin with.

Instead I'll remember this

I stayed with some beads in my head lol. They even had the foil at the end.

and this

Look at sister!! LMAO she's exactly the same.

and when I hand over the keys to a new family where they can grow and share their memories, it'll be a tough day but I won't regret it.  I've somehow managed to press on, to build a full life for myself and the best thing I know to do for them is continue to live it.

xoxoxox Chocolate Girl In the City xoxoxox