Every Woman Needs a Woobie~

Woobies & the soft side~

Woobies & the soft side~

Positive Propaganda:  Black Women are Vulnerable~

OK…first of all I’m sitting here shocked and amazed that I’m writing this post, as it was not planned, but that’s how Spirit works.

MOVE! 

Lol!

So a sister C.A.T. has been feeling some sort of way, lately.  About life.

We’ve all been there.  It’s human.  It’s UNIVERSAL.  Yet it feels so deeply personal when the opportunity to FEEL finds you.

And we as black women have for so long run from this feeling of, well…feeling. 

The desire to let go…cry…talk…purge…giggle…laugh…and giggleandlaugh until you cry again.  And then smile.

We don’t give ourselves that “luxury” enough.  To receive that human need, enough.

Ish. hurts!!

Yeah, I said it!

Stuff happens in life that literally takes your breath away, and requires that you sit down and look it straight in the face.  And as black women, we do…more often that not, we do. 

But it’s what we don’t do enough of next that spawned this post:

We don’t STOP. 

We keep moving.  Trudging along, eyes straight ahead, being “the strong black woman” instead of doing what all of the softness of who we are REQUIRES of us - that we FEEL IT completely – walk to and through it, and heal it. 

By being soft and vulnerable, and quiet, so that afterward (and only afterward) we can smile.  And it’s over.  And we move forward to live another great experience on this spiral of life. all the sweet and the sour; sugar and mess.

We need this sisters. 

We need to let ourselves see ourselves…see REALITY…and act accordingly.  And I’ve found the best way to assist in this effort is

*drum roll*

The Woobie.

:-)

You can see one of my current woobies peeking out in the pic above (and “Hi”, C.A.T. sisters!  *waving* )  ;-)

My woobie has been through it:  good times, bad times, stains, rips, triumphs, failures, extasy and agony.  You betcha. 

Every.  woman.  needs.  a woobie.

What’s your favorite woobie?  Are they friendships?  Girlfriends? (they make the BEST woobies), your grandmother, or your mom?  Is it your puppy or your *le gasp* cat or kitten? 

Is it texting that ladyfriend whom you know will say just. the right. thing. at just. the right. time. to make it all better, and who you know knows you down to your socks and a peek of your soul?

Tell them.  Let it out! 

Is it your journal?  I also write when I’m walking through a challenge, and recently forgot about that as a passion and a release.

And then I picked up my journal (I have all of my journals…I love journaling), grabbed my favorite pen, and let it all out.  And cried.  And laughed.  Then I danced.  A lot!  And I moved on.

Onward, with a smile.

And then you can walk the land knowing and inhabitating that, as my friend Dominique strikingly said to me one day:  “wearing your heart on your sleeve doesn’t make you weak, it makes you stronger.”

Dope, and so true.  Our strength is in our sensitivity, and the ability (and the responsibility)for feeling and then fully and completely acknolwledging our feelings.

But back to woobies.  So soft.  Let’s not be afraid to be soft.  We’re WOMEN…we were created to be soft.  As I said before, ish hurts, and we feel it, but it’s the feeling part that can be the challenge, sisters (or am I out here alone “on the skinny branches” by saying that?).

I love soft things, sisters…I’m very tactile (like a cat…ha!).  I’ve recently learned to honor how much I love soft fabrics and soothing colors…blues, and soft greens and pale yellows…and cotton!  Heck, if my ancestors tended it, I’m gonna celebrate it, goshdarnit!  LOL!

Seriously, though, I love soft fabrics such as cotton and other natural textiles, and will cozy-up when need be to let the other stuff out.  And I try to make my everyday surroundings cushion me in softness and gentle luxury, ’cause I’m sensitive, darn it!

And I’m also learning to honor my sensitivity in all of my choices as well, such as who to hang around, who to let in (and stay in) my space, who to keep walking away from and for whom to give the swift & dusty boot. 

And I’m finding that the more I pay attention to the things, especially the small things, that I love, deserve, want, and need, it makes all the difference in the world.

And, a wonderful dish of whipped cream on the side, my world responds as if it’s so.

So, just from writing this, I’ve discovered that my woobies are actually, in this particular order:  my God, my angels and guides, my God voice, my blanket/cotton, my joys and wants, my family of friends and lovers, and my fur-children (past, present, and future).  Then the world, then the Universe, and back to God.

Works for me.

So, let yourselves be comforted, and live sensitively and strongly.  Sisters, we aren’t just one “strong” thing…we’re a cornucopia of ingredients that make a the pies of our lives.  Strong, sweet, soft, pink,  brown, tan, cocoa, gentile, warm, delightful, black women, sisters of Eve, Cleo’s daughters…onward and onward, and onward and upward.

Enjoy all of it, and embrace it.  Feel the other stuff, then it go.  And this includes how others think of you, speak of you, and perceive you, unless you’re hurting others and/or not being yourself, but that’s another post.  ;-)

So, this is me.  Raw.  I’m Amie, and I’m sensitively strong.  And I need a woobie every now and then.  ;-)

Know that when we talk again, I either will have just completed a kit-katting session with my girls (and/or certain homies), cried, laughed, cat-napped, become incensed, or rallied for a cause in my glasses, on my couch, with my cotton blanket woobie, and that’s OK.

We’re ok being vulnerable.  You don’t have to cover up truth, or stuff it down, or hide it, or drown it, or cloud it out, or disconnect from it, or lie about it, or stay in denial over it, or in the end have to memorize it to get your story straight…it just IS the truth.  You are.  We are.  This is how we were created, and we’re tapping into our biological inheritance to stay soft and gentle. 

Get in there and break down, sisters.  And come out refreshed.  Call in the help of your personal woobie, and step back into the spiral anew and ready for next, whatever it may be.  And we all win:  you feel better and wiser, those around you are spared your bottled-up, stopped-up wrath, and you get to remain, among many other wonderful things, soft and cuddly to all outside others, including your man.  ‘Cause you know our men who love us adore our soft sides!  *Shout out to our sis-supporters!*

So, I hope you found this helpful.  You’re not alone.  I truly do have your back, and I feel and know that you’re starting to have mine.

We’re coming quite the way.  And with our cat “Hope” (her name is Hope, like, for real) steady mascotting her way into the Community Mascot Hall of Fame, we’re ready.

I SO look forward to getting to know all of you, and you getting to know me more and better (as I continue to get to know myself…and ride the wave), and stay tuned for more sensitively strong posts and products down the line for our growing community.

I love my sisters!

A soft meow,

Amie~

*and whenever I post as ”We” I mean me and Hope; ’cause we ride hard.  :-)

WatchCatting: Bombshells Reign Supreme at CoverGirl~

We love CoverGirl

Janelle Monae_CoverGirl2012

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Positive Propaganda:  Black Women Grace Covers

See, sisters, told you we should keep an eye on Procter & Gamble (CoverGirl)!

Janelle Monae, CoverGirl 2012.

Stunning!

We love those who love us. 

*meow*

 

 

Death to “Bourgie”~

                                                                                                                                                  

Positive Propaganda:  Black Women & Girls Unashamedly Aspire to be the BEST!

“She’s so bourgie!”  Who she think she is, with her bourgie self!”  Walkin’ around here actin’ all bourgie!”

We’ve heard all of these sayings before; comments thrown in the faces and behind the backs of black women and girls on a routine and regular basis.  And these comments are anything but nice, when said.  From the tone and the sound of the person hurling the word, one would think the target was a horrible, wretched person.  A fake.  A fraud.  A thief, perhaps, or someone to avoid at all costs.  Witnessing this verbal assault, one would certainly not wish to ever be (shudder)  “bourgie”. 

So, what exactly does it mean?

In the black community, and according to the urban dictionary (yes, there is such a thing…smh…) to be bourgie means “to be pretentious in matters of taste or dismissive of other tastes, in a manner that follows a particular middle class mode of thinking. Generally derogatory.” 

Another, slightly less disparaging definition of “bourgie” is “aspiring to be a higher class than one is. Derived from bourgeois – meaning middle/upper class.”

Ahh…we see.  But, some would say…that’s not so bad?  What’s wrong with wanting to launch oneself to a higher station in life than one was born, or in which one finds oneself?  What’s wrong with reaching for success?  What’s wrong with being the best…with aspiring toward greatness?

And to that, my dear sisters, we say NOTHING.  There is absolutely nothing wrong with these desires…as a matter of fact everything is RIGHT with wanting more, better, best, and all of the greatness that life can offer.

Which is why we believe it’s time to pledge DEATH to “bourgie.”

Dear sisters, we’ve been so historically, horrifically mistreated and misinformed.  From the times of slavery, we’ve been trained to not want nice things; to not embrace our femininity.  To not educate ourselves or our families.  To not believe we were soft, and beautiful, tender and deserving. 

It harkens to stories from the plantation where black women, our sisters of yon, were forced to wrap their heads in tattered rags to keep themselves from looking and feeling beautiful.  When the ears of our sisters were cut off and our bodies mutilated and mistreated for transgressions of wanting freedom and liberty.  When all manner of verbal abuse was spewed our way when, even after these atrocities, we dared to hold our heads high, our shoulders back, and walk with pride:  “That haughty niggra” they’d hiss; “Somebody needs to put that gal in her place!” 

Now, fast forward to present day.  Not much has changed, except now we’ve taken the role as our own slave-masters…keeping our own people down and “in our place” whenever we, especially black women, aim to reach higher and achieve better.  And we’ve made it even easier, by taking all of the hatred, jealousy, callousness, and evil of our oppressors and shortening it into one negative word:

Bourgie.

“Always walking with her nose in the air…ole bougie chick.”  “She think she cute…bourgie broad!”  “I can’t stand her bourgie a*s.”

The hate.  The misappropriated anger.  All hurled at black women and girls who’ve dared to step outside and beyond the small box of shame and low-self worth that we’ve been conditioned to believe, and have decided to reach for something higher and better.  To be somebody.

What’s wrong with wearing nice clothes, or fixing your hair in a lovely style, or adorning yourself in lovely jewels?  Nothing.  What’s wrong with wanting a good education, reading books, learning from life and others, and soaking up all that life has to offer?  Nothing.  Where is the harm in craving fresh, healthy food, exercising your body, asking for what you want, need, and deserve?  Not a darn thing!  And where’s the harm in seeking out the best of the best in every way you can, for you, your children, your friends, and the ones you love?  Nothing.  At.  All.

Sisters, this is not “bourgie.”  This is being aspirational. This is taking by the reigns the desires of God for your life, and claiming the gifts he’s placed at your feet.

How are we ever to climb as a people if we’re too afraid to reach for the sky?  What in God’s name is wrong with wanting to look, feel, and BE your very best?  Again, we say nothing.

You know what IS wrong?  Hurling insults hidden in urban slang such as the word “bourgie” to our fellow sisters and young girls every time we witness them striving to be their best.  Our young sisters (our kittens) grow up hearing and feeling the covert negativity that we attach to those climbing and aspiring to be their best, and instead of letting their little lights shine, they dim themselves and bushel their lights out of fear and shame, so as to be accepted by their community.  They don’t want to be “bourgie.”

This is wrong, and it needs to stop.

We are gorgeous, talented, divine, beautiful women of God!  We have so much to offer ourselves, our families, and our communities.  It’s the so-called “bourgie” set that helped Michelle Obama reach the White House, and who suit-up every day to fight the good fight in corporate America to represent OUR needs and well-being, ensuring we have a voice at the tables that run our lives.  And we don’t thank them enough.  We don’t want to be LIKE them enough.  We don’t aspire enough. 

Sisters, we have to watch our tongues and check ourselves when need be.  We have to support each other and our sisters who’re brave enough to plug their ears against those who’d like to keep black women down, and uplift those who strive every day to be their absolute best (in spite of). We have to encourage our young girls to hold their heads up high, to not be afraid to shine, and to be, do, and have all that their little hearts desire.  We have to truly show solidarity and real sisterhood in this way; it’s only then that the oppressive voices from the plantation are silenced, and we all truly rise above the horrors of the past.

So again, sisters, it’s time to kill the negativity toward ourselves and each other.  Let’s uplift each other the best way we can.  If you see a beautiful sister out in the world “doing her thing” and looking fabulous, even if you can’t compliment her, don’t disparage her with the label “bourgie.”  Stay silent, search your own heart and life, and promise yourself to be and do the same.  It’s in you to be great, too!  There’s room for all of us to shine.

And when you shine, we all shine.

Death to bourgie. 

Live an aspirational, inspirational, glamorous, gorgeous, fabulous, healthy life; out loud, and with no shame. 

You deserve it.

With love,

PositiveProp~

Saving Ourselves: Healing Our Broken Hearts

 Positive Propaganda:  Black Women Are Resilient

 

Good morning, sisters!

It’s been a rough week for many of us.  We lost a sister.  A beautiful, talented, magnanimous, brilliant star of a sister. 

I loved Whitney Houston; always will.  I remember dancing around my blue and white bedroom, listening to “How Will I Know” over, and over, and over again.  I’d close my eyes and pretend to be the super-slim Whitney in a silver party dress with a Madonna-esque bow in my hair.  I’d visualize the little guy I had the giant crush on in school knocking on my door, giving me flowers, and saying “I like you too, Amie!”  Whitney’s buoyance and effectious spirit made me believe that I could have everything I wanted; that the world was mine for the taking.  *In a later post I’ll recount how during that same visualization to Whitney’s music my young paramour, though we’d never spoken before, DID INDEED show up at my door (on his bike), proclaiming the giant crush he’d had on me; a true testiment to the power of visualization and belief, and a lesson that Whitney accompanied.  Powerful stuff.

It appeared Whitney had everything:  talent, superstardom, a loving family, riches beyond measure, and wordly power and admiration.  Yet, as we witnessed her descent into the dark world of substance abuse, self-destruction, and unhealthy relationships, we began to understand that what we thought was the reality of her life was just an illusion.  In reality, like so many of us as black women, our sister was suffering.  Our sister was in pain.

This week illuminated much for me, and for all of us, I’m certain.  It shed a bright light on what I’ve known deep inside since the advent of my adulthood.  Black women are hurting.  Our hearts have been broken.  Such is why I felt led to create this site.  Yes, it’s important to highlight the injustices that the outside world perpetrates on us on a daily basis.  Yes, we should remain conscious and aware of the ways in which we’re being mistreated, maligned, disrespected, and abused, so that it can end, and end expeditiously.  But more important than anything, it’s important for us to identify the ways in which we’ve hurt ourselves or allowed ourselves to be hurt, own our pain, take responsibility for our spiritual and emotional injuries, reclaim our power, and heal ourselves, both individually and collectively.

We’ve been through so much as black women.  Slavery; injustice; witnessing the forced separation of our family core; the desecration of the sanctity of black marriage; the emasculation of our black men – the leaders of our homes and our earthly protectors – and their subsequent betrayal…their abandonment…in the time(s) of our greatest emotional need.

We’ve been stripped of our femininity in the public eye, and left with distorted representations of what it means to be a woman; left with lies and untruths; left to fend for ourselves in a world that daily reinforces our lack of value and power; left alone to combat forces that were created solely to destroy us.  And in that struggle, some of us let go.  Some of us succumbed to the lies, and anger, the sadness, and the ILLUSION.  We lost sight of the truth; lost faith, hope, and spiritual guidance.  We turned against each other (“she’s ratchet”) instead of leaning into each other for peace and solace.  We let ourselves be devoured, from the inside out.

Whitney was in pain.  Psychic pain.  Spiritual pain.  With all of the treasures of the world at her feet, she could not see the treasure of her own being - the ultimate truth – that she was an angel on earth.  God blessed her with the voice of the highest realm, and a gift of both inner and outer beauty to touch and influence the world, yet her pain was too great to overcome the illusion of separation and she floated away on a river of lies and destruction.

Why couldn’t we save her?  Why couldn’t she save herself?

Because lies and illusions can be powerful.  They present themselves as the truth; as reality; but they are indeed lies.  Sisters, we ARE POWERFUL BEYOND MEASURE.  It’s not about the length of our hair, or the form of our physical bodies.  It’s not about what we wear, or the hue of our skin, or the money in our bank accounts.  It’s not about the man in our bed, or the number of voice mails on our machines.  It’s about WHO GOD BROUGHT US HERE TO BE, and how well we can use that gift to serve others.  It’s about our ability to support each other, rally around each other, and HEAL EACH OTHER.  It’s about seeing the truth behind the veil of separation, and staying the course toward the mark of the high calling.  And though the temptations to turn us away may be great, it’s about knowing the purpose behind our presence, and that we have work to do of the highest caliber.

We have to save ourselves, then we have to save each other.  But, it all starts with you, where you are, making a vow to change yourself from the inside out.

Begin today by affirming your beauty.  Begin by looking yourself squarely in the mirror and telling yourself that you are worthy, you are loved, and you are divine.  That though the world may at times show you differently, you are of value, are needed, are loved, and are on purpose! 

You may not feel that way today, but start where you are.  You don’t have to come to this table of growth, perfect.  I am flawed; greatly flawed.  There are days when I can be my own worst enemy, and can both talk to myself and treat myself worse than anyone outside of me ever could.  But I’m taking pains to end that negative practice.  It starts with me.  I’m taking responsiblity for saving myself; for healing my broken heart.  And I’d love for you to join me.

So today, if you are treating yourself unkindly, if you are allowing yourself to be mistreated, if you are listening to media that dis-empowers you and leaves you depleted and dishonered, if you are in an abusive relationship or abusing yourself with drugs, alcohol, food, substances, or anything that is destructive to who you are as a child of God, STOP, TODAY.  Stop, because you are more than your body, more than your broken heart.  You deserve the best, because YOU ARE HERE.  Stop because you are loved, and if you can’t find the love yet inside to empower yourself, know that GOD LOVES YOU, I LOVE YOU, AND YOUR SISTERS LOVE YOU. 

We can get through this, and emerge on the other side more powerful and abundant than ever.  Let’s do it for ourselves, let’s do it for every sister who needs to wake up and see the divine light inside of herself, and let’s do it for the little sisters looking up to us, as we did Whitney, and let them know that IT’S OK.  We are more than conquerors, and will reclaim who we were brought here to be.

If you need support today, feel free to reach out.  I’m praying for you, for your situation, and for the healing of your heart.  We’re strong enough to do this.  Let’s begin healing today.

With love,

Your sister,

 Amie

*meow*