I’ve been through so much since my last entry it’s not even funny. I’ve been robbed, lol, I’ve shot at people, lol, I’ve forged business relationships and broken off others. I’ve just been really busy.

I’m not talking to many people. What’s the point? People don’t understand; not many people I know actually know how difficult these things are, and how it is all time-consuming, LIFE-consuming stuff.
And really I don’t have time to put toward talking about it, anyway.
I’m spending THAT time, here — writing in my blog.
The hope is to have security and peace, and to secure a legacy for our children. So it’s WORTH it at the end of the day.

I am tired all the time, and I’m always trying to put out an optimal level of energy — so right now I’m on B-12 chews, and another energy-inducing, metabolic vitamin for women.
I just want to be up in the day, with enough energy to do the things I need to do, and to be efficient enough to go home and go to bed. That’s all I want.

…Took me an hour to write this.

Sometimes in polygyny you hear of the initial couple having a “fail-safe” of sorts, where, should any feelings change about this lifestyle at some point in the future, they will revert back to their monogamous relationship. The fail-safe is made due to the fact that the couple in question is knowingly getting into uncharted territory, and are unsure as to whether or not they’ll like it once they get in it — so they are attmepting to reserve the right to stop it and revert to monogamy simply based on if polygyny becomes emotionally stressful on them.
Sometimes this reversion happens when the couple is about to add or has added another wife to the family. This fail-safe, when enacted, has the potential to leave the subsequent wives/wives-to-be SOL. It doesn’t hinge on whether or not the subsequent wife has done anything wrong — it hinges on the feelings and desires of the initial COUPLE (which isn’t always based on reason and logic). This fail-safe indicates that the relationship between the husband and the initial wife is the most important, and that the relationships between the husband and any other subsequent wives is less important.

“Couple’s privilege” is something the polygynous world has yet to define. Polyamory/Non-monogamy/open-relationships have already established this as a “thing” that is in existence in some situations.

Let’s look at the definition from “those people” (lol) and convert it to relate to us polygynous folk, shall we?
Because it’s here, already. Whether explicit or implicit — it’s already here and for some of us seeking polygynous relationships, it is an active part of these relationships.

This is the base definition from this blogger “Solopoly.net” — Couple’s Privilege is “The presumption that socially sanctioned pair-bond relationships involving only two people (such as marriage, long-term boyfriend/girlfriend, or other forms of conventional intimate/life partnerships) are inherently more important, “real” and valid than other types of intimate, romantic or sexual relationships.” (http://solopoly.net/2013/02/05/couple-privilege-having-it-doesnt-necessarily-make-you-an-asshole-but-it-can/)

… “couple’s privilege” runs rampant in our “first-generation polygyny” community. Those of us that were not raised around polygyny, but are accepting of it or want it for ourselves, see this exhibited in our circles all the time — women who thought they were wives are kicked out because the first wife as pulled out her couple’s privilege card at some point during the family’s polygynous journey, and the husband has responded and has asked the other wives leave. Or a sister is being courted seriously by the husband in a family, then the husband cuts it off because — no matter how he likes her — the existing wife has pulled out her card, woman-be-damned.
And OFTEN, the existing wife doesn’t feel WRONG, the husband doesn’t check her in her wrongness, and a wife/potential wife is left out there like — what happened, who did it, and why.
Subsequent wives/potentials are expected to UNDERSTAND why this would happen, and are made to feel as if they are in the wrong for feeling hurt and betrayed (OFTEN by a man who’d said he LOVED her…).

The existing wife sometimes uses this privilege as leverage in the selecting of other wives, using it as a tool that allows HER to decide which woman she’s going to “let” into “her” family.
What she’s actually doing is leveraging someone ELSE’S marriage, whereas her own was never done like that — no one was there to successfully change the husband’s mind on the existing wife’s marriage to him, based on “feelings” and “emotions”.

How, then, can the incoming women be sure that this will never happen to them? Can she ask if the couple has this fail-safe in the deck for a J.I.C. (just in case) situation BEFORE she gets in deep with them? And will the couple be HONEST about having such a thing?
Because to have that sort of agreement does not benefit an incoming wife and her security in HER relationship with this man, or her position in the family, AT ALL.
It’s unfair. Subsequent wives/potentials are asked to consider the existing wife’s stance, when the other woman’s/women’s stance needs to be considered as well.
It’s like everyone initially seems kind and good and loving and selfless —
— until the situation gets a little uncomfortable —
— then people find they aren’t so kind.
They are not so selfless.

This should be discussed! Is it EVER a good thing?

"Hm...now that he's all up on her, I'm a tad uncomfortable...ah-heh..."

“Hm…now that he’s all up on her, I’m a tad uncomfortable…ah-heh…”

‘I Would Never…Go Back to Being a Monogamous Wife’
Polygamous women speak out in defense of their lifestyle.

In April 2000, the authors contacted more than 700 plural wives, asking them about their experience. They were promised anonymity because it is against the law and currently being prosecuted in Utah. Within six weeks, they received more than 100 responses. The comments were reprinted, organized according to the age of the respondent. Here is one from RS, a woman between 41 and 50 years old.

“I would never ever, worlds without end, even if I could control all events, willingly go back to being a monogamous wife. Even if I were to discount the possibility of eternal blessings, the blessings I enjoy here in this sphere are enough to cause me to become a she-bear when someone threatens them.

“As the only wife of a good man, I had a good marriage. We got along well, and our children were emotionally healthy. But at times I felt an unspoken demand to be all things to my husband: a great cook, an organized housekeeper, an inspired home-schooler and an individual who kept up with current events, pursued her talents, never fatigued, always remembered details, kept the family social calendar, emptied the mending and ironing baskets daily, never overspent, looked appealing at all times and looked forward anxiously for the moment he walked in the door. I tried to be all things, and my husband told me constantly that I was loved and appreciated. But I worried privately that my lapses stood out more vividly than my achievements.

“After a second wife entered the family, I saw my husband’s eyes full of new respect and approval as he looked at me. This approval came NOT from my willingness to let him have another wife, but from his deepened comprehension of who I was as a woman, what strengths and gifts I had that were not an automatic part of simply being female genetically but were uniquely mine. Suddenly, I was seen as I had always wanted to be seen.

“Our relationship improved in other ways. Simultaneously with the second marriage, we had to revamp the way we spent our time together. I couldn’t be more cheerful tomorrow after a good night’s sleep because tomorrow he’d be elsewhere. He could’t vegetate in front of the TV tonight and spend time with the kids tomorrow because tomorrow there would be different kids. We couldn’t make tomorrow special as we were too busy today, since tomorrow wouldn’t be there for us. So we instantly found ourselves putting aside less important things to make time for the more important.

“Then there were the nights he was gone. At first I felt socially embarrassed trying to make new friends and having a “single’s” social life; but as I did, I found myself feeling more connected to all of God’s people on this earth than I ever had. I found that I hadn’t become a part-time wife, I had become a full-time human being.

“For years I prayed to know true joy, to have my marriage become the one I had dreamed of in my youth, and to understand myself and my place here among humanity. I would never have believed, had someone told me, that all my answered prayers would be wrapped up in one gift called plural marriage, but indeed they were. When I hear threats of our way of life being driven out of existence, the grief twists inside me. Please, please, don’t try to take away the thing that has made my life whole!

“I have no confidence that were I to be my husband’s only wife again, that the lessons learned here in plural marriage could successfully be applied in a monogamous relationship. I have the marriage of my dreams (No, that’s not true because I have never dreamed it would be this good) and two sweetheart sister wives who are my best friends and who sacrifice so that I might have happiness. So, my friend, this is no pretense. This principle is my happiness.”

Read more at: ‘I Would Never…Go Back to Being a Monogamous Wife’

Biblically based discussion on polygamy!

I’ve been watching ‘The Last Alaskans’ on Animal Planet (just yesterday and early this morning. I couldn’t sleep and ‘Alaska’ is where I ended up). And while I don’t like the cold AT ALL, I envy their remote, pretty-much off-the-grid lifestyle.
Then I asked myself WHY — why does that appeal to me, to be out there, trying to live off the land and working as hard as they do to sustain their life forces and their way of life?
Shouldn’t I want a huge, comfy mansion with large rooms and all the modern amenities? Doesn’t that make more sense for me to want?
I looked at our life — our family. I even look at our extended family members. I then recognized something about us.
We’re kind of introverted.
Not fully shy — I mean, *I’m* shy, and my aunties on my mother’s side are shy women and so am I, I just swallow my shyness and do or say what needs to be done or said. But hiding myself from the world is something that just comes naturally. I WANT to hide. I don’t want to be SEEN. I want to be left ALONE, for the most part. But the way my personality is set up, I don’t often get to fully be that way. Even back in school, I was a little more popular than I realized. Everybody either knew me or knew OF me. It’s because I was always debating teachers, always standing up to bullies (while my HS bestie ended up being the biggest bully in school).
But the only organization I chose to join in school was the gospel choir, and I led a song ONE TIME, out of the many opportunities. It was known that I could sing because we’d have singing battles at lunch time (girls vs boys and we had singing groups READY, boy, we’d practice and all that and have a crowd of people). But I refused to lead any more songs — I only led that song because the girl who did happened to be sick that ONE time. The director was so mad at me…
So I’m shy.
We don’t know our neighbors and they don’t know us. But my parents were the same way! When we moved over to Red Bird (a middle-class, older neighborhood in Oak Cliff), my parents didn’t go out of their way to meet the neighbors. The neighbors brought us PIES and COBBLERS to say welcome and we all said thanks, but we just stayed to ourselves and only occasionally saw them when we were out tending the yard.
So now, here we are — we’ve lived here nearly a decade! I don’t think these people know our names! They’ve lived here longer than we have. Their children grew up here and now they’re mostly retired. But in the mornings, they are outside, standing around, talking, as they get ready to go about their days. We barely wave, and only talk to them when some craziness happens in the neighborhood (a RARE occurrence). Our children sometimes play with the kids that live waaay up the street (when they’re not fighting them) but they are mostly happy being their own playmates. There’s children NEXT DOOR — and her kids aren’t interested in our kids, and our kids aren’t interested in her kids. They’re about the same age, as well.
We are already in our own world here at this house. We rarely have new friends — all of our functions/parties/events/holy day observances — they’re all ALWAYS with the same people. Never anyone new. The birthday parties for us and our children, if we have them, are already built in because our inner circle is guaranteed to be there, and the outer circle is typically there, too. If we have a BBQ, we just call the usual suspects and each family has 3 children on average, ages 1-16 right now (because WE KEEP HAVING BABIES). We’re a veritable TRIBE in this city. Even THEY don’t have many outside friends.
…we put up a huge wooden fence on the backyard — I think it’s 9-feet tall. When we didn’t have the store, Saturday mornings we’d wake up, make coffee, and head to the back patio with our laptops. The children would wake up, we’d give them breakfast (they’d eat inside) and then they’d be playing in the backyard. We’d stay outside til it got too hot to stay outside, then we’d either go inside and eat, or go take a nap (typically that shabbat nap was next). Studying and discussions would happen outside, free of prying eyes. All houseguests come to love that time here — family members that come to visit from out of town always loved it, our family friend Thompson, who came to stay with us for a while, he loved it and he’d be out there with us, and the sister we courted, she loved it, too, I think. It was a peaceful end to the week. We’d be barefoot…
We are just very cut off from the world. And if we want to, if we turned off the news and the internet — we’d just be with us.
And I LIKE that. So very much.
I only need my husband and my children. (if you are not into eating meat, don’t read the next paragraph. just skip it) We love farm animals…my youngest was just exclaiming yesterday about how he loves goats. We’ve HAD farm animals here in the back before — but we’re not vegetarians, so they’re gone. *ahem* We ate them. Yes, we did. We don’t keep them for longer than a week — a sheep for Passover. A chicken and a goat. All ate up. And the children never got *too* attached. There was never any crying from them, or any fretting. The last time we did it those crazy kids got their lawn chairs and the ipad and filmed their daddy and Thompson ritually slaughter this sheep; Education on Demand — then their father showed them all the important organs and what they do and they were especially happy to find that the bladder was still full SMH.
So we know how to slaughter our own animals. And we’ve had useful gardens maybe twice? My daughter and I are planning to do it on a larger, more official scale next year because husband is in the process of removing this huge, cumbersome tree in the back yard (took the treehouse down, cut off most of the major branches — it has to go it was dangerous to the house in the last storm, plus the neighbor’s tree hangs over our yard significantly, so there’ll still be a bit of shade, and not that direct, North Texas sunlight that can destroy all things).
We are emotionally and physically self sufficient to an extent ALREADY.
All I DREAM about is being LEFT ALONE.
Sure. I love people. I guess. Sociology is a favorite past time of mine. I love to study people and cultures and I love to meet them and eat their food and hear their stories. So I’ll always do that. But when I go back to MY “home” — there are just no cares for the outside world or what anyone else has going on.
This is why when we talk about building communities and communal living, I often imagine us at the end of the village, nearer to the woods. Only coming in for trade and situations that affect the entire community.
On the fringes… and happily so.

Y’all have a good day. I’ve been up on and off since 3am, officially up at 5am and I’ve already cleaned my kitchen, diningroom, and am on here, typing to y’all while I drink my coffee. I’m about to wake up the children for breakfast. I couldn’t sleep. I had a DREAM and I won’t mention the details of the dream but I didnt’ like it and there was so much praying out of me to that dream to The Most High — I haven’t had a dream like that in a while and this is the SECOND ONE THIS WEEK, me just praying and praying and praying out loud to Yah and it having response.

Blessings.

arranged marriage

Wikipedia definition: Arranged marriage is a type of marital union where the bride and groom are selected by a third party rather than by each other. It was common worldwide until the 18th century.
In a society where divorces and affairs are common strains in life —
— where people are left to choose their own spouses for themselves, for “love” and “romance” —
— where people fail to do their due diligence, and investigate the person, their family, their pasts, their childhood, etc —
— sometimes we look at other societies where arranged marriages are common, and we wonder — would it be better if we did it that way?

I think arranged marriages should have their place among us.
Now — allow me to post a disclaimer — I don’t believe in forcing anything upon anyone. So no, I don’t believe in forcing people to marry. But I do believe that parents (and elders, and older family members and friends) should be able to look at an individual and assess who would be a good match for that person.

I remember, years ago, watching a documentary on arranged marriages around the world. One couple, in particular, was from a lower caste system in India. They’d been chosen for one another in childhood — maybe about age 7 or 8, and had mostly been kept from knowing or even seeing one another, until the time came for them to be married.
They were able to see each other on the day of their wedding. In the excitement, the documentary asked the young groom how he was feeling about his bride-to-be. He said, in essence “I don’t know her, but I love her. I love her, because she will be my wife. So I love her already.” He had a big smile on his face and hope in his eyes. And from that moment on, I concluded that for many of us, arranged marriage should be allowed.

Some of us don’t like our parents (and some of us, our parents don’t like us). We don’t like their ways and so we don’t want them choosing our mates. And that’s fine. I fully believe a person should be able to decline a marriage offer if they see fit — and no harm should come of it for anyone.

But for me, I mostly trust my parents, and when I was late teens-early twenties, I fully trusted them because for the most part, I was following their path, and I rarely disagreed with anything they were.

My mother had a man chosen for me — a young, black, mainstream Christian pastor. A rising star in the firmament. My mother was always good at knowing what men were best for me, even when I was dating. If she didn’t like a guy, I would drop him quickly.
She was always right about them, it would turn out. 

Had I not met my husband one day, living thousands of miles away from home, I would have given in and married the man she’d chosen. I would not have been unhappy. But it would not be the life I have now.
I’d be a super-Christian, a model first-wife, a corporate powerhouse, with children who were more than likely excelling at some school somewhere. I’d have a PERM, lol, I’d have some luxury vehicle (A Lexus, Benz, BMW), a tailored church-suit/business-suit wardrobe, heeled shoes that were not too high or too low. My nails would be done every two weeks.
I’d probably be a pastor, myself.

But I met my husband.
And I liked him.
And my parents liked him, too.
So that possible, “okay” reality went out the window, because I happened to stumble upon my husband on my own. Which, in my opinion, was pure Yahweh — pure kismet, pure The Universe doing what IT wants with you, whether or not that was your intent.
And when I compare the two realities, I like this one better. Of course.
My mind is freer and personally I feel “larger” and “more grand” than I would be, had I not chosen to respond to that young man that day in the snow.
To me, today — that other, “okay” life — is REALLY a life of pretentiousness…

I plan to do a level of arranged marriage with our children — I want them to meet people that are similar to them — have similar lifestyles and backgrounds, hopefully from happily married households where the children see both husband and wife/wives, father and mother/mothers and how they relate to each other. I want them to meet young people from families that don’t eat pork, or don’t eat meat.
I plan to mold them into good mates, and to guide them on how to choose a good mate (because, as I said, the final choice will be up to them).

 

I don’t hang very close with people who are bitter on relationships.
I don’t hang close with women that say things like “men ain’t shit”, “all men cheat”, and it’s been forever since I’ve heard the damning sentence “I don’t need a man!” From anyone in my large and loose circle of friends and associates.
I don’t care to have men in my circle that think all women or all black women are the same.
I don’t care for Sotomayor supporters.
All these people are bitter.
And personally, I don’t work like that.
I don’t write off an entire group/genre of people on the actions of specific individuals.
I’ve seen some black men do the worst — cheating, beating women, not being heads of households, not keeping jobs, not taking care of outside children, etc.
But I don’t paint all black men with that brush. Because I know not all black men do these things.
Why can’t other people take on this frame of thought?
You can’t say people are all the same.

It seems to me that alot of people on the internet exaggerate what they have going on, and then when you meet them in person and get to know them, you find out that they don’t have MUCH of ANY of that shit going on that they say they do. It’s a let-down. Because I’m not an exaggerator. I know people THINK I MIGHT be an exaggerator, but in MY particular case, people put their thoughts on ME on what they THINK I have. Example — they hear I have a two-story house and in their minds they see their view of a two-story house (imagine a perfect tv-show house with a red door and white shutters…grey-blue brick…), then they come and see my house and it’s not what they imagined in their heads. That has nothing to do with me. I’m HAPPY with my house, it’s in a good,quaint little neighborhood, it’s kept us nearly a decade, it’s brick and is warm on cold days and cool on warm days because of it, the yard is big both front and back,  large enough for me to legally keep sheep or goats or chickens (…I researched it…because sometimes we have a sheep, goat, or some chickens). It’s got four bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, and a 2-car garage. I like the lay-out and if I move out of the country I already asked my husband to pretty much keep the same layout (with a few changes) because that’s how much I like it.
They hear we have a couple of cars, and we do — but they put what kind of cars THEY want me to have — Lexus? BMW? Benz? What they don’t know is none of those cars interest me because of the size of their car note — I want good-running, long-lasting vehicles that don’t cost me more than $350/mo. Our cars were paid off years ago and we are not the types to jump into another car(note) after we’ve paid off a car. No — I don’t like to part with my money so easily.
They hear we have a store, and we do — and I don’t really know how they feel about the store. My CUSTOMERS love our store, though — they love the ambiance, they love how organized it is, and how they can see (and find!) what they’re looking for, instead of it being cluttered and overstocked.
They hear we travel, and we do — or at least we were when we didn’t have the business (having a new, successful business is like having a new baby — it needs you to be there every step of the way, until it can fully stand on it’s own without your watchful eyes). We’ve been to many places — and NO, we didn’t have a hook up on anything. We didn’t “know somebody” on the inside that got us a good deal. We didn’t take out a loan for it, and we didn’t pop it on any credit card. We planned it, and when we saw we had the money for it, we paid for it.
It’s just that — there are all these people…who say they doing all this stuff…and they have all this stuff…and you get over there, or you meet them in person and it’s like — what happened to all the stuff you said you had or were doing?? (Que T.I. — “Where dey at doe?”)
I don’t understand.
Is it that important to you for people to see you as more than what you are?
You’re not embarrassed about what happens when people actually meet you?? (read: major disappointments)
If you didn’t care what people thought about you and yours, wouldn’t you just tell the truth about what you have?
…I just don’t get it.

I was reminded this past weekend that I don’t like shopping for clothes. Such a stressful experience! I was with family members — and it’s nothing personal — but I don’t get what other women get out of shopping. I like to get stuff, pay for it, and leave. I’m just… not a shopper… I guess that’s why if I find a shirt that I like, I just buy it in every color, and if I find jeans I like, I buy 2 or 3 pair in different shades, and when I find a skirt or shorts that I wear, I do the same. I have UNIFORMS, y’all. Even without the business, I had a UNIFORM — long skirt/jeans/shorts, and a tank-top/t-shirt with a humorous, smart alecky statement on it (“I Have Issues”, “Look but don’t TOUCH”, “Fangtasia”, etc). I shop ONLY when absolutely necessary. So that’s maybe twice a year, lol.

…obviously I ain’t want nothing, just came here to say these things.

Peace

https://youtu.be/JI0pDZMgphs


He starts to talk about his life with his women at about 2:40.

People look at us, still being monogamous and they wonder what’s wrong with us.
We seem to be a nice couple — a nice family, happy, doing what we need to do financially, and achieving goals and whatnot.
But since it’s still just us two, they often wonder…
Meanwhile other people — families and single women — are cycling through a series of other people, and are more often than not finding out that they aren’t compatible…and they move on to the next person or family… a version of serial-polygamy, if you will.
There are a few reasons why we’re still monogamous and not polygynous, the main one being we’re not desperate for another woman to join our family.
We are not broken. There is nothing wrong. We like each other, and we are happy. We don’t “need” anyone to come in with us to fix anything. Our children are thriving and happy and they love us and we love them.
My husband marrying another woman would simply be another tier on an already well-done and tasty cake.
Being that we don’t “need” it, we can take our time and REALLY look at people and consider of what benefit it would be for her to join our family (benefits for her and for us).
So we just take our time and try to figure it out.
It’s why we’ve only had two real life, face to face courting experiences.

Here’s what families need to understand and accept — you might not EVER find someone to join your family on a permanent basis. There are MANY reasons we could look at — our society right now frowns on polygamous relationships, people WANT to do it, but are hiding for fear of what people (friends and family, employers and coworkers, church members, whatever) are going to say. People who are born and raised in the Western world are on the whole not ready for polygyny.  And why would you expect any different? All we’ve ever been shown is monogamy as the ONLY marital option (leaving those of us who aren’t into it feeling like we’re not normal). Women, if their man has another woman, have been programmed to react with jealousy, whether or not we’re fully aware of the other woman.
We are taught that a person can ONLY love one person at a time. 
We are taught that a person having more than one “romantic” relationship at a time is a cheater, an adulterer, a player…a pimp.
Those of us who have abandoned what we’ve been taught have had to deprogram ourselves — and it’s not easy. It’s not the same for everyone. And not everyone’s at the same position on this path.
We know there’s a shortage of (viable, black) men when it comes to (viable, black) women. But simply put — not everyone is for this lifestyle. Not everyone’s going to do it, number one, and number two, those that are WILLING to do it are simply not equipped.
So, many of us will never find anyone.
Those of us who are desperate will find someone, then when that’s messed up, we’ll find someone else, then we’ll find another person, and another and so on and so forth — basically whoring out our entire family, trying to find the one that “fits”.
There may not be anyone that “fits”.
And you gotta be okay with that, and not open up your family to any and all kinds of women.
Be FINE with “just” you two.
Be OKAY with “just y’all”.
If she’s coming, she’s coming.

If you’re NOT fine, then trust me when I say, adding someone else to “WHATEVER” is going on over there is NOT going to make it better. It’s going to compound it, exacerbate it, irritate it, etc etc…
Don’t further break yourselves by bringing someone else in, and subsequently hurting them, as well.

(because y’all have no idea how these breakups hurt EVERYONE…)

I grew up in a home with my mother and father married. My sister was in her mid-to-late teens when I was born, and when I was fully cognizant, she’d moved away to live her life. So I grew up an only child, for the most part.
My parents were pro-black people — they never bought me dolls that weren’t black, they taught me that black was beautiful. I wore out my brown crayon in coloring books.
The light-skinned/dark-skinned thing never came up in my house. My father is lighter-skinned (he’d deny this). My mother is darker-skinned. My sister has my mother’s skin tone; I have my father’s. No one ever mentioned it. Same thing with hair — I think all of our hair is a common, kinky, “African” texture.
My parents rarely argued in front of me. I only remember one major argument they had, and I can’t remember what it was about. But it embarrassed them for a long time because I brought it up over and over, as a child.
We lived in an apartment up until I was 5 or 6. They’d build a neighborhood of houses near these apartments, and it seems like almost everyone from those apartments moved to those houses — and if they couldn’t afford that, they moved to some better apartments within walking distance of the houses. We all went to the same elementary school (which was NOT close). It was named after that black astronaut that went up on the Challenger space shuttle and it exploded before it left earth’s atmosphere…
We were outside children — we played outside all day long, all year long, and especially in the summer. During the summer I’d get so tan I’d be a purplish-dark brown color — it was amazing. I wore braids pretty much all year — like, extension braids, cornrowed extensions. This was the mid-to-late eighties, when people weren’t really wearing braids in Dallas, and they called it weave if you added hair to it. And people were NOT supposed to wear weaves in Dallas back then.
So I’d get picked on for that.
I also got picked on because I don’t have the accent other people in the area have — my parents are from two small country towns in Texas that are nowhere near Dallas. So to Dallas people, I “sound white”.
Then my name — a “white girl’s name. I wished for a long time that  my name had been Lakiesha or Latasha or Shamika or Tamika or something. Because people called me Becky and Becca and Reba McIntyre, lol, and Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm, lol. SMH
My mother bought my clothes at a higher-end consignment shop. So my clothes were name-brand — yes — but they didn’t look anything like what other kids in my neighborhood was wearing.
There was alot of mistreatment of me OUTSIDE of my parents’ house. At home, there was love, goodness, kindness, sweetness…there was intellect, consciousness. My parents discussed politics and had views and opinions on important things. I played quietly, on the floor by myself, while they and my sister discussed or debated big things. So I learned alot by just being there. I absorbed what they said.
My mother was full of sweet smells, hugs, cuddles and kisses. She was feminine and girly, but was still heading forward in her career field — computers. She always told me she loved me, and even when she was working late, and I couldn’t see her most days, she’d call me an hour before bedtime and we’d talk about everything…
My father would talk to me, answer my questions — when I was real little he’d let me sit on his back while he watched football or boxing, or he’d zone out on tv while I put barrettes in his hair, lol. He’s a disabled vet, and was in his late 30s when I was born, so wasn’t any running around with the ball with me. But my dad would cook, he’d read to me, help me with my homework. He read Robin Hood to me, multiple times, and a book called ‘Just So Stories’…
So when I’d go out of their house, and into the world — I was different. And I’d get picked on.
We took vacations, we went down to San Antonio a lot. Most of my extended family lives there. We went to Florida to visit my sister, we went to Los Angeles — again, to visit my sister, lol (she’s an actress, singer and dancer, and was often on tour somewhere). We went to JAMAICA.
Kids in my neighborhood weren’t doing these things.
So when I’d go out of my family, and into the world — I was different. And I’d get picked on. lol
I met a girl at age 3, who laughed at everything I said. (“Yer funnie,” she’d say. “No I’m NOT!” I’d respond, angrily) We met in preschool. Our parents realized we were great friends and we started spending the night at each other’s houses. When we went to school, she went to a private school, and I went to public school, but we were still best friends. Around 2nd grade I started meeting HER school friends, who became MY friends, as well.
None of us were the same, but we got along well.
We didn’t even live in the same neighborhood. And I have to say — the neighborhood kids, we all got along okay. We’d fight, and be friends again after a while. They were people you couldn’t get away from — I’d known them all from age 3 on, as well.
We’d play huge games, like “War”, where it’d be 20 kids of varying ages, spending the entire day split up into teams whose headquarters were on opposite ends of the neighborhood — we’d kidnap each other all day long and scream and run and fight and before the streetlights came on, we’d determine who’d won. The kids from the apartments would come over and be involved in the games as well.
At 11/12 — 6th grade — we moved out of that neighborhood to an older, but better, more established area.
It was time for middle school — me moving guaranteed that I would not be going to middle school with the kids I’d grown up with. I was OKAY with that — the middle school Id’ be going to was an “academy” — meaning it was more about academics than anything else.
So I was excited — I often tested off the charts in my subjects.
Went over there — and those people — were so MEAN — and EVIL — and WICKED —
…I should have gone to the other middle school.
Middle school was horrible. Rumors spread about me, by popular girls who I shouldn’t have EVEN been on their radar.
But I was.
I won’t go into it all — I think I have before, somewhere on this blog.
But I Don’t want to. Fuck those bitches, these are happy memories. lol
But in middle school, I met my last two besties (one of which is still a bestie) — and I think that was the end of my friend-making period in my life, really.

My point: I had a good childhood. It had it’s imperfection here and there. But in my parents’ house, it was great.
I THANK them for creating a happy, peaceful, orderly place for me to grow up in love.

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