Féministe Ou La Fermer

I used to look at feminists and think, "Wow, what a cute and trendy thing to be. I want to be one too." And I would look at the books they read and be like, "Yeah, I'm not cut out to be a feminist, all this reading is not for me." When I took classes at Columbia University in high school, I would hear women talking about their women's studies class and how empowered they felt, this that and the third. 

Now that I realize the position I hold in society as a woman of color I combat these stereotypes day by day. With everyday that passes I realize that I am a feminist and it has nothing to do with being trendy, being a woman at Columbia or reading feminist books. It's about standing up for women's right altogether and supporting women all over. 

It's not about not shaving, not wearing tampons/pads, hating the male population, and shaming other women that are not feminists. It's about regaining the control that every human has to their right to life, to emphasize that we all matter. #equalityforall 👏🏽🌸

when i first looked at my body

It was when I first look at my body and first realized the rounds of it and the sinking curves in my favorite places that I became cognizant of my body. I never stood in front of a mirror to analyze it. I didn't see the point. I already had an inclination of what my body looked like and I knew I was disappointed with it because it wasn't conventionally beautiful. I didn't usually stand there and take pictures in different angles that would compliment my figure. And then I did. And then I looked at myself in a not so flattering angle. And I saw the stretch marks on my ass. And I realized that my thighs and ass and bigness was ugly. But then I remembered that the stretch marks looked like waves, And I was riding a wave of self loathing and deprecation instead of of self love and admiration. 

Everybody meet “Princess” (ADD HOW THESE ILLNESSES BECOME CHARAVTER TRAITS AND PPL ARE NOT CARED FOR)

Everybody meet “Princess” (as I referred to her).

 Upon mocking her with my friend for singing too loud and off key, we were having a good time out of a selfish thing. At first she was aimlessly walking up and down Union Square. She stopped pacing and stood in front of us, yelling about her love for chicken and her desire to fly. When she wasn’t doing that, she was engaging in the performing arts by singing and dancing for anyone who cared enough to watch and indulge her.





Lost within the world that she had created with her black headphones plugged into her ears, Princess sang along to song choices ranged from Nicki Minaj to Lauryn Hill. The fact that she was overweight and dancing made me laugh hysterically. Watching her from a distance, I’d watch her laugh. She saw me laughing, walked up to me and laughed even harder, until she asked me to take a picture of her. Those around me just stared and laughed as I awkwardly agreed.

I encouraged her shenanigans by taking several shots of her and reciprocating her excitement by speaking back with urban vernacular to hype her up by saying, “Yas Princess, fuck it up yas, girl you perf though.”

My friend Christian thought I was stupid for taking a picture of someone from a psychiatric ward, and I just said she was crazy as hell and worth the laugh. A couple of the strangers around me were joking around with me and I was saying harsh jokes they cracked up at.

An hour or so later she yells out that she can no longer deal with the doctors and the psychiatric ward, which really shocked me because we were joking about her being from the nut house. She rambled on about how she is frustrated that she cannot lose any weight and that it will take over a year, to which she proceeded to sing and dance and talk and laugh by herself.

And it hit me what an ass hole I was and how people are all the same, because I know damn well I laugh dance and sing to myself when I’m alone. This is how Princess made herself happy with all she was dealing with, and it took too long for me to realize that people cope differently.

A message from a rude New Yorker to the rest, don’t be such assholes.

Dear You

Dear You,

You no longer hold a grip on me. I can finally say that I am now emotionally and mentally strong enough to make the conscientious effort to forget you... You are the sand of time that slipped out of existence. And it's not going to be easy, I was desperately defined by you, eager to be something you could want, crave, desire, but this stemmed from my want, crave and desire for you.

Dear You, you are no longer my muse. Years of affection towards you definitely taught me how to challenge my thinking as a writer, but now I challenge my thinking another way, a form of thought that doesn't include you. Because although you are a large part of my adolescent years, you hold no value to my future. These were thoughts of a distressed virgin in captivity, but I refuse to be a singing caged bird. I've freed myself and I'm seeking to find myself. I'll love myself more than any man ever can, and that is what will make me stronger. I won't be the Sappho to your fuck-boyness. I'll be the Muse of Dali, and I will imprint myself thoughout time and space so that I can radiate. I will reflect myself through everything that I do. I will reflect the wonders of a woman, and the mysteries of them too.

Dear You, I cannot believe that I was willing to lower my worth in order to give reason for settling for less. I am better than you, I am too good for you, but even truth seems to be hard for you to believe in. And so I write this letter, one you probably won't ever see, but if you ever do, and if it not abundantly clear, you now mean nothing to me. You'll know who you are, because I built the foundation and walls for your egotistical pyramid. Don't come crawling to me to build up your ego because these twenty-first century women are smart enough to not feed your hunger. Don't come to me because I'll be ready to break down the legacy I have lead you to believe is true. You may have a righteous name, but my name means kingdom, and I have exiled you from this world, because I've created one without you in it.

Sincerely,
Me

Dear Future Me

Dear Future Me,

You are indefinite. You are infinite. You are charged by every racing molecule in your body that drives you to be the best version of yourself that you can possibly be. Don't crop and edit yourself because you are perfect for your imperfections. But that is just a small reminder of something you should know by now.

Dear future me, don't forget the struggles you faced, the endeavors overcame, because that's what you like. That's what makes you, you. Still know your hustle. Bask in that glory as you begin to conquer things you never imagined. Continue to let everyone know that you sold cupcakes to make shit happen for yourself. You are determined. Able bodied. Versatile. Let your accomplishments remind you in any time of struggle that you are prosperous, beautiful and wonderfully made.

Dear future me, do you still base your self worth on the approval of that boy you like? You know the one that everyone praises, though he's no messiah. Remember your years of being okay without him. And when any man tries to take advantage of you, remember you don't need them to define you. You are able to complete anything you will allow yourself to be committed to.

Dear future me, don't forget about past me. You know, the one that cried in the many different rooms you lived in. The window you contemplated jumping out of, the scars that have molded onto your arm. The scars that scream I am a survivor of the war on myself. Love all versions of yourself and continue to engage in what makes you feel free.

Dear future me, any problems with friends and family are momentary, apologize or wait for an apology to come to you. It all works out in the end, you are appreciated and you are loved.

Dear future me, I love you, now remember to love me.

Sincerely,
You

Insecurities: Settling vs. Embracing

My insecurities eat me alive 

I'm tormented by the expectations of beauty and not upholding any of them. 

Sure I favor a few of my features, but how can that compare to you or him or her? 

--Ethereal portrayals of beauty. 

So I try to spice myself up and market myself in the category of "appealing to the human eye."

I got two cartilage piercings here and a nose ring there, convinced by the fact that it would get me more stares. 

Still not enough?

I'll paint myself pretty and outline my big lips. Hopefully they draw you in, make me desirable, make you want me.

Hopefully that desire to rises your plank up and casts me into your sea where woman of loneliness and despair dwell. They try to find their self-worth in you while you stab your sword into her unclaimed territory and consider it yours, one more lost virgin. 

But is that what I settle for? Sexualization? It's funny because I am still a virgin. 

So instead maybe I hope that's not how you see me. I wing my eyeliner more precise than the Pharos and captivate you in my gaze of brokenness and sorrow. You'll see the truth in my eyes, the cowardliness of my life. 

But is pity that I settle for? Am I your own personal charity case? I don't think so, because sometimes I'm stronger than that sailor man. I'm strong because I'm steadfast and ever loving of myself. Though most times I forget and let my insecurities swell.

I am constantly torn between loving myself, and shaming myself. Being strong and independent, but being dependent on your desire for me. 

So I'll wear my best jeans and hope you break your neck and admire that round Dominican ass like its art work from the MET. 

But is more sexualization what I'll settle for? I can no longer guess. It seems to me that it's easier to be seen for what you can give, the body you are willing to let be destroyed, the favors you are willing to deliver. I've yet to meet a man that can sing harmonies to me and be a sinner. To see me.

Confession #5

It's not hard to seek validation from men, when you go day-by-day and never get any. I'm sure if I got some attention here and there, some determined suitors, I wouldn't feel so desperate to find a man that can find himself in me. Instead I seek to find myself with anyone that would even share the same air as me. I grow attached and a grow a little crush with almost every boy I talk to. I picture the perfect boyfriend in all of them just because I've never had one. I'm sure after a day I would be beyond disappointed to be with them. And when I make this realization I retract any feelings and direct them to the next guy.