..because a bird pooped on my leg when i was 8 & i never bounced back.

where do insecurities come from?
i know we all claim to be confident and secure in who we are .. and we ride clouds & grant three wishes & other ridiculous claims to fame.
nevertheless, we ALL have insecurities.
even the "coolest", "socialite-est", most attractive people have moments when they feel like losers.
even more so, we have little insecurities because of the lives we live when no one is around. 

it's hard to feel glamorous when you're on the toilet. (just stating the facts.)
it's hard to feel cool when you're at home & you accidentally walk into a wall lol.
dancing in front of the mirror naked or daydreaming about a crush are things that no one else gets to see.
yet and still, singing off-key in the shower OR messing up the lyrics to rap songs are the pinnacle of one's soul !
waiting anxiously on someone's text message.
the right boob thats bigger than the left.
the exes that we're not over.
the abuse we try to tune out.
the scars cover with make-up.

these nuances are at the core of each and every one of us . unfortunately, some people are ashamed of these kinks. they want to be manikins - made of plastic and perfection. NO SUCH THING.
our embarrassing and/or raw moments and thoughts are the things that humble us all the same. so the next time you're at home and fall down the stairs or pick your nose... realize that it's all about character building.

p.s. that little bundle of joy on ely's forehead is helga. yeaup, we named her. 

dear yellow bone,

you are playing barefoot
in fun house mirrors of complexion
with broken shards of glass on the floor.


they tricked us.
pinned us against one another.
drowning in waves of self-hatred;


you see, every time i hear "i only date light skinned girls", i cringe.
every time i hear, "she's cute for a dark-skinned girl", my stomach folds -
for every"#lightskinned" tweet ... i'm convinced a piece of a little girl's soul dies .
but that's what you get for giving pistols to children :


men that is .
they wont deny the opportunity to make you feel belittled .
and silly light-skinned girl , you think they're loyal to you ?
they'll turn on you in a minute.
shoot you in the head while you're idolizing "light".


too busy choking and dangling from your skin-tone hang-ups,
you couldn't see the blindfold .
we hate one another, allowing others to appraise our wealth .
- as if it were a cheap silver chain.
what's so fair about "fair skin" ?


nothing.


it's disgusting ... and you think you're in control?
you think men are in control?
they're just the puppets.
Jim Crow has always been ma`ssah -


big daddy jim fed you these ruthless rufies,
convinced you that Black is revolting.
slave masters sit in your skull, while your mind picks cotton .
the blisters that form filled with puss and denial of the house verse field slave mentality.


light skinned girl,


save your "whoa is me for being light skinned" lies.
while we beat off "cat calls"
they fight themselves over being treated like dogs .
we are accountable for their pain. & it affects us too -


Darker skinned girls used to say that they were never seen in music videos or portrayed as "beautiful". and you, my light-skinned friend,  didn't stop to think that you would be exinct ...


drake ft. jamie foxx - your type.
wiz khalifa - roll up.
fabolous- killin' em.
lil wayne - 6 foot, 7 foot.
drake - over.


i guess you didn't notice, but you're being replaced.
if you embrace your race, you might save some face.


- there are so many shapes, colors, shades, and types of beauty out here. it's up to you to decide what you think is beautiful. don't allow others to define that for you. lift up your fellow women and don't engage in this self-hatred. personally, i have always had a problem with men who liked me for my light skin. i have always had a problem with men who let rappers and 'hype' define their definition of attractive. they're weak at hear & mind. so love yourself, ... it goes against the grain.-


btw, wth is that vogue picture anyway? (sigh) . let's do better black people.

steam that self-esteem (:

what an ironic term: "self-esteem" .
whenever i hear that word used, i think of Kat Williams who so eloquently put it, "it's the esteem of yo' muthaf*ckin self ."

isn't it weird how "SELF"-esteem is so heavily influenced by everyone but ourselves ? we claim that we're SO confident and independent in life . the truth of the matter is, from the age of an infant, we relied on the encouragement and positivity of our parents and guardians to do well in life . when we reach middle school and high school, things that people say cut like a knife . someone can tell us a thousand awesome things about ourselves and the one negative thing always seems to stick out . we let people make fun of our beliefs and passions in life . people treat us like dirt and we think it's our fault . we let people tear us apart by the things they say and do to us .

for what ? who knows you better than you ? what person is perfect enough to make yo feel like you are incompetent or incapable of pursuing your goals in life ? who is soooo much better than you, that they can make you feel like you don't deserve the best ? please tell me . your "self-esteem" is just that . it's in your hands and in your control . it's good to have people around who tell you about yourself, but you have to know when it's strictly out of love [trust me, you'll know] . take control of your confidence and never let anyone bring it down . that's a lot of power to give to someone, and i promise they're not worthy enough to hold on to it .

something to think about .

deteriorating tulips .

Dear young black female,

Since birth, you drew the short end of the stick ; not because you have a vagina and not because you are Black ... but because society is not crafted for your species . you're a curvy, spunky, feisty fish out of water and other demographics do not know how to perceive you . let me rephrase, a lot of your counterparts - Black men- do not understand your worth . I could launch the blame on them like a grenade, but that would be unfair . I need you to be accountable for this deteriorated identity of Black womanhood .

We were once the Queens of Sheba . We were the ones in Africa with numerous husbands (mm hmm), we were adored, inspirational and a power presence in our communities . Even during slavery -a time when our ancestors were raped and dehumanized- African American women kept as much dignity and strength as they could . We even stood by our men when their masculinity was ripped from them every time they could not fend for their families & humanity. We were solid support systems and brilliant women! we knew how to both lead & follow ...

Now we're "Welfare Queens" as Reagan's moronic mind so eloquently put it . Women, we are more than hips, breast, thighs & vaginae... i promise . True, our bodies are awesome & we know how to use them like we're working heavy machinery lol . However, we have so much going on for ourselves . If we only use our temple for sex, men will never associate anything else with us . we hump like rabbits and then wonder why we have all of these little whore gobblins and ratchet boys running around like they have no home training [seriously] . women arent watching their 200 kids and then they(children) get their knowledge from lil wayne songs & BET .

Now we (Black Women) compete with one another for men . we fight in the middle of the street, cut each other with words, and use our bodies as bait to reel men into our lives . See, men are not fish . Once you use bait and hook a fish, the task is complete ... you go home lol . You can hook a man, but he is not forced to stay once he takes the bait . You're left feeling used and hopeless . All you can do is run your own race and have some self-respect . Find comfort and peace in the fact that no one can ever be you . Dig deep to find security in your beauty ladies .

All of my Love,
Stevi Renee

beauty and the bruise .

She stood in the mirror on her tippie toes . "The teal open-toed flats," she whispered with the house phone wedged in between her chin and chest . she held her mini, sun dress dress up to her body and smiled . i frowned .

i did not want her to go out with him . not again . she danced around the room in a jittery buzz, chi flat iron in one hand and pink lip gloss in the other . those measly beauty tools looked like accessories to murder now . i just wanted to press pause on this moment . i wanted to rewind and remind her of the 'incident' last month .

i wondered, "did she really forget?" i mean , she was putting concealer over the scar under her cheek . When she danced around the room , her spine wiggled . . . that wasn't on purpose . How could she forget ? I didn't . Maybe it's harder to forget when you're the one holding a girl in your arms with a water coloring painting on her face . Red spilling from her mouth and blending with the blues of her jaw . the yellow-ish puss that presses itself against the melody of her violent, violet eye .

while she curled her hair, i held on to the curling of my stomach . who could i tell ? once you turn a certain age, running to tell adults don't mean sh*t if you're already such and so . i could have screamed at her again , but that's the reason why she was ignoring me all together now . but after all, he was 'different now' . that's what he told her and my flesh knotted up at that thought . i couldn't sit still so i walked into the living room .

the heart-hacker outside honked the horn of his Mercedes . i guess money can strangle self-control and self-love . in the middle of her mascara stroke, she dropped the beauty utensil and ran to the door . "COMINGGG !!" she yelled melodically, smiling . She closed the door to grab her purse . he honked again . and again . and again .

". . . so , i walked outside with my AK-47 and sprayed his car . i shattered glass and metal across the pavement of Adams street . okay, wishful thinking . "

so, she walked out of the door and told me to lock it when i left . she shot a glare of rage at me when she walked out of the door . then and there, we walked away from our friendship. i couldn't handle her dangerous devotion to him and she couldn't handle my 'lack of support' . i lost my friend . . . & two months later, she lost her life .

[this is a fictional story and im praying to God that is stays as such . smh]