EVE WAS FRAMED

It Takes Two...But What Is Your Role?

2011-05-20T03:10:02Z

Are you the lead or supporting character?

If you're a romantic comedy buff as I am, you will soon realize the perfect RomCom has two leads...not a lead actor and a supporting actor but two lead actors.

This is true in life. A perfect romance has two leads, not one who sacrifices his/her story line for the other's story.

I hadn't really thought much about it until my writer friend text me and inquired about one of my Facebook musings - my presidential suite moment.

Oh wait let me bring you up to speed.

Backstory: On The Good Wife season finale, Will desired one perfect moment with the newly separated Good Wife, Alicia - and the only room available at the inn (Read: Posh Hotel) was the Presidential Suite to the tune of $7800 per night. Will wasted no time plunking down his gold card to secure the suite if only for one hour with Alicia.

I once had a moment like that too. A man I'd just met for lunch asked me to join him for a weekend in Paris. All I had to say was "Yes" whatever I needed, he would purchase. I said "No" I was too afraid of what "I" might think of "me". (Let that marinate and then come back.)

At least, however, I understood Helen Gurley Brown's quote "Good girls go to heaven, bad girls go everywhere". Not only wasn't I going to heaven, I was staying home.

Back to the present...

Having received such an extravagant and decadent invitation, I was surprised when my friend asked if my presidential suite moment was one that he and I had experienced together. "No" I answered. Later he countered with a presidential suite moment of his own making - one where I would pick him up, take him to the airport give him a big kiss and he'd leave me curbside...

Needless to say I declined.

I told him, "thank you for material for my blog - but I will pass on the invitation."

In my mind, he might as well have said, "Here's your script. Read over your part. What do you think? No? OMG this is a great role. What do you mean, No? Well you'll never work in this town again. Now get out!"

He was surprised I said no. I had to remind him that if I passed up a trip to Paris, France, albeit with a stranger - why would I say yes to playing chauffeur and pretend-wifey.

I reminded him that I don't even drive myself to the airport and my 'office" is there. OK, so my "office" is any variety of Airbus or Boeing but that's beside the point.

The point is, I've written an exotic story for myself; a story I am living out in real time. I was in London, England on Saturday. I was in Vancouver, BC at the Fairmont days before dining in my room - with the option of having Guest Services to draw my bath and turn down my bed (yes, complete with chocolates). So why would I step out of my story to join him in his where I would now play a bit role?

Does that make sense?

Well, it didn't make sense to me either but it got me to thinking especially when he wrote to me:

"Ah yes, the blog, a world you can control. Stop being afraid to allow someone else to write the story sometimes."

"Start the car, Start the car" Put on the brakes. AFRAID? You're dam right I'm afraid to let someone write MY story! IT IS MY STORY!!!

Now mind you, I've let him write quite a few scenes in my story over the past few years. In fact, when we met it was me asking him to write a few parts in my life story to help me sell my book. This however was one scene I wasn't going to say yes to. I text him:

"I'm not afraid of someone writing THEIR story but if it's a world I choose not to live in - I don't have to. That is the gift of free will. Saying NO to Paris, Saying NO to driving to the airport are all choices I've made on someone else's story."

And then I had an epiphany, we aren't voting on a man or woman to love; Love is eternal and infinite. We are voting on our would-be lover's story. We are voting on the story they are writing for their lives. If their story matches our story or our desires, we have a MATCH.

If the story isn't appealing to us we say no to the story and subsequently the storyteller. My writer friend writes some great stories but the part he wrote for me this time was lousy; so I turn down the role. In doing so, I remembered a valuable lesson:

LOVE can't be created or destroyed it simply IS and it can change form. Accept LOVE and change it into whatever you desire, whatever you choose but most of all, transform it into one of the greatest LOVE stories ever told.

Mel's OBITUARY

2011-04-27T23:43:00Z

On Monday, April 25, 2011 I assigned a writing Prompt : Write your own OBITUARY in 300 words (short) /800 words (long form) on the LeadStory fan page

If you ever wished to have the last say on your life this surely would be the way. It is a way to confront your own mortality - and in the process I suspect you will learn what is most important to you in this life.

I know I did.

When I started this exercise my first thought was to include all of my accomplishments, experiences and skills I learned along the way.

I thought, of course, that's what I would include if I was writing an obit for someone else. If I didn't know what was important to them I would write about the things they did.

The Obit writer fills in things the deceased did during his/her life. In between the time we are born and the time we die, they use nouns, verbs and adjectives to describe how we lived. They write about things we, the deceased, did. They write about people they believe are important to us and places we've been .

The sum of our existence is reduced to verbs, nouns and adjectives. Or can we sum up existence by sharing our philosophy and how we formed it? I can't say. Everyone is different. However since we are breathing this is our chance to write our own obituary. We do not have to follow the template. We can write anyway we see fit AS long as we're writing as if we know this obituary is our final say. What will you say about you? Here's what I said about me. Here's my wish for me.

"Her Journey Continues...

but for a while Mel Hopkins was blessed to spend some time on earth...During her sojourn she spent most of her time in the quest for LOVE. She believed LOVE was the highest emotion (energy-in-motion) a human could experience. She also believed LOVE possessed transformational powers that most never considered tapping into for its healing properties.

Her goal to enter Harvard University's Biophysics graduate program to study, research and publish the effects LOVE have on living organisms was realized. It set the stage for her doctoral dissertation which proved LOVE is an energy similar to Light and could travel the distances transforming all that it encountered. Her thesis became the foundation for Organic Energy Healing that is used in the medical industry and the mental health field, today. Currently its uses are being considered for other industries as it is a renewable resource that will benefit our resource based economy in numerous ways.

While the uses of LOVE proved to be a monumental discovery, Mel's search had humble beginnings. She sought a fairytale ending of "Happily ever after". Since fairy tales ended with that sentence she didn't know what it entailed. Therefore she searched for her very own "prince charming" to find out what came next.

Mel surmised her "happily ever after" would look like a lot like what her parents, Em and Dot, experienced in the early years before her father's journey here was cut short by a killer. Mel's parents were best friends who knew each other since they were 10 years old. Their Love produced Mel and her younger brother, Lammie.. Growing up, Mel witnessed their love and saw "Happily Ever After" wasn't free from strife but consisted of a lot of laughter.

Mel's dad called her "Star" and he painted planets and constellations on the walls of her baby brother's room. This act of Love instilled in her the belief the universe was their playground and anything was possible.

When Mel was threatened and beaten up by a gang of children on a school bus, Mel saw through her parents' actions that when two formed a perfect union through love and united in marriage they were a force to be reckoned. When Mel's parents met up with the school bus and told the children on board if they ever harmed their daughter again they could and would end up on the wrong side of a shoe, it was paradigm shifting event. It was then Mel witnessed the power of a shared love, an energy that transforms and a legacy that is remembered long after the body is gone.

Mel also believed LOVE could create and when the energy is shared with another it could produce beautiful children such as Mel's daughters Houlimani, Lovebutton and BabyGirl.

Mel poured every ounce of Love she could conjure up into her daughters with the belief like rain to flowers they would blossom into vibrant, healthy and happy adults. When asked, Mel said being a mother to these wonderful women was her most important job; a labor of Love that bore wonderful fruit.

Mel's early career centered around communications, save her brief stint as a flight attendant in the early 2000s - followed by her breakthrough doctoral work in Biophysics but nothing compared to her job as a mother.

Now Mel's journey continues onto the next dimension where she will join THE ALL once again. She takes with her the Love she shared with her parents; her brother; her daughters; her Five heartbeats - TC, PB, KW, GDand her twin, DB; more than 100,000 sorority sisters she had the pleasure of serving with in this life, her Sisters of Alpha Kappa Alpha Sorority, Inc; the love of countless people she met along the way.

AND her husband, the gorgeous, debonair, worldly, intellectual, smart, sexy, sensuous, passionate man she called her Prince Charming. Mel said she always felt protected spiritually, physically, emotionally and fiscally by him. She said there were no limits to what they could do together as well as apart...but most of all he wanted her by his side and he kept her safe inside his heart and she wanted the same for and from him.

With her loving husband in her life, she finally learned the meaning of ...

Power of Praise and Pussy

2011-04-13T23:09:00Z

"All men want is PRAISE and PUSSY. This motivates every action in their life," A male Leadership Coach admitted to one of his students.

I was not privy to the conversation. It came to me by way of a friend who was on the receiving end of that wisdom. When I first heard it, I laughed. Then it triggered a memory, which became a turning point in my life.

I had to face a sobering truth of why I attract some men - but couldn't keep them interested. No, ya 'shasties', it's not because I share pussy with everyone who asks or doesn't, but rather I'm generous with praise.

If I see you doing good things and it is above average, I won't hesitate to sing your praises. That's just me. I do it for everyone men and women alike. Giving praise is like watering plants; it is like giving flowers to the living. I believe exceptional actions deserve praise and I give it generously.

I realize now this may have prohibited me from having honest relationships with the black men I've encountered before and after my divorce.

I imagined I must have been a rare find for some black men. Especially since I've heard some Black women reserve their praise for "Gwawd" (hear: Jimmy Swaggart) and not a man. I don't know. I can't say for certain. I'm a woman who is black/African descent, which is not to be confused with the stereotypical "black woman".

I would attract men like bears to honeycombs but they would always end up with the woman who they say treat them like "flies on shit". So from that one innocent retelling and a few other occurrences last week - I had an "ah-ha" moment that caused me to rethink my actions. As much as it is normal for me to give praises, I realize what is normal in my environment i.e., "my comfort zone" doesn't necessarily translate well outside of it.

Living in a comfort zone is powerfully attractive when it comes to intimate relationships. Even if you know in your heart, you are only "partially happy" or content with "80/20" theory, most will NOT trade it for the alternative - walking alone.

I've concluded, even as I am nearing the end of my journey, I rather continue happily "Han Solo" than to partner up with anyone who is not "him". To continue to do so would mean I don't believe "Heaven is where the future is made." And to add, it was quite arrogant of me to reside in the 5th dimension all those years continuously going back to the future to re-write my present. I'm an author but I must remember to listen to the story in my heart - and not edit my history with my brain.

Wait, I'm getting so far ahead of myself. I have to back up. Prior to marriage, I dated across the ethnic/cultural lines. My parents taught me there is only one race in the human species and I believed them right up until I went college. They didn't think it was important to raise me with racism at my foundation. My mother said there were important things they wanted to teach me instead.

Therefore, marrying someone of European descent was a non-issue for me.

Although to hear my mother tell it - it would have been a issue for my father - who, she later told me, had quite a few racist beliefs.

Still I have a hard time believing my dad held racist beliefs. The man who had my dad's back until his death is of Italian descent.

I don't try explain life's conundrums. I just write about them.

Once I ended my marriage, however, all I wanted to date were black men. Of course that didn't stop me from dating white men. However I wanted to break out of my comfort zone. Yes, you read right, white men are in my comfort zone. I had not realized it t but besides my dad, my early mentors were men of European descent.

From my observation, praise is the norm for white men of a certain economic class doing exceptional work. In fact, I imagine they would think they needed to try even harder if they didn't get it.

It might be my bias, though. Some of those early mentors I spoke of worked mostly as scientists, financiers and teachers. They were always on the verge of that next big breakthrough and their love of research, learning and teaching was contagious. Later on in life, I gathered from the men I would later meet, what they wanted from me (besides pussy) was my insight. It was as if I could help them see what they couldn't due to some 'shortcoming' real or imagined they possessed.

They listened and never ridiculed my pondering. It was as if what I spoke of existed in our collective reality or soon would. They would share their information to advance or collaborate on the unseen or unproven.

The dad I remember was a lot like those men too. Except he went from a boy who had very few worldly possession to a man who would spin the world on his fingertip. He really lived his life despite death nipping at his heels from the time he was born.

If I had to compare the two ethnic groups, I would say white men and my dad burn hot on the surface and black men have a smoldering heat. One is no better than the other is, just different. The difference is however quite glaring and it hinges one thing: acceptance. Not necessarily of acceptance of one's self because that comes with maturity - but rather acceptance of love and adoration from those outside of you. white men, possibly because of their position in society, embrace praise as if it is their birthright. When they don't - it is because someone beat it out of them early on..

With black men it seems the opposite is true. Someone, namely society, beat it out of them early on and it takes a lifetime for them to learn how to accept praise. For many, the closest they come to accepting praise is if it resembles what they believe is respect as in wearing the crown as king of their 'castle', The less they contribute to society - the more important to them their mate see them as 'head of the household' even if they are not the breadwinner.

They shun admiration, yet they are attracted to praise. Unfortunately praise is not consistent within their comfort zone. And while it may be a motivator, often times some black men will reject the praise and the one who is lavishing them with it.

Dare I say if the Leadership Coach is right, once you throw "praise" out of the equation, the only motivator left is ..pussy? All of a sudden I hear George Clinton's "Atomic dog" playing in the background.

Hmm, on second thought, I'll continue to embrace and share my gift of praise. I know now stepping outside of my comfort zone means taking on the challenges and experiences of new environment fearlessly while being me and not conforming to anyone's standards.

In other words, I could stay in my comfort zone but there would be no growth. Growth happens if you stay free of the confines of someone else's self-made schism.

~Mel

LACE UP THE NIKES...

2011-03-04T22:03:00Z

LACE UP THE NIKES: Def. 1. The course of action a woman takes when a man seems to be getting too close to her heart. 2. Running Away.

Most women don't even know when they are about to run away from an intimate relationship. To another runner, however, the Method and Means are easy to detect. The woman slowly and methodically begins to sabotage the relationship. The subterfuge is so complete she, herself, is surprised when the relationship goes up in flames.

Once it does, however, she uses the Opportunity to sprint away without blame.

Lacing up the Nikes is so prevalent in our society that as far back as 1978, Jazz musician Roy Ayers exposed the practice when he immortalized it in his song "Running Away"

If you listen closely, you will hear the woman confidently sing away her part to the demise of the intimate relationship:

"You've been mean to me and I've been good to you and I've been oh so true"

Now of course, all of this is subjective because while the woman may have been "Oh so true" she was also putting up, quickly and quietly, hurdles for her beau to clear. Listen to Roy sing:

"You don't do the things you used to do. You don't spend the time when I'm in need. We don't love each other like we used to. Can't you see I need YOU?"

And every time he cleared a hurdle, she made sure the next hurdle was higher. In fact, to another runner the poor man looks like this:

Now if you've witnessed the perfect execution of what many would call criminal activity on Love's battlefield I'm sure you probably want to know why she would do it.

Usually the woman wants to be married or at least in a committed relationship so her reason for destroying what she thought to be a wonderful pairing may remain a mystery to the uninitiated. Not to me a fellow runner, I know the Motive.

Once I tell you what's behind all this running - it will make perfect sense...

The woman runs away because the man who is willing to go the distance with her, even if she falls, ...

Will always make sure she ends up safely in his arms.

"No matter how many times you fall in love it only counts when someone is there to catch you."

MIRROR, MIRROR

2011-02-28T19:51:00Z

Some women are never satisfied with their looks. If anyone thinks it is because of the brothers, think again.

A woman looks in the mirror and sees "the Other Woman" the one who taunts her from time to time but only exist in the recesses of her mind.

"the Other Woman" has been there since the woman was a girl. Often times, she's introduced by some well-meaning relative, even her parents, who say they want the best for her.

Loved ones might say something as innocent as "Why can't you be more like..." (fill in the blank) and the next thing the girl knows is she is looking outside of herself for the elusive trait or characteristic to add to her repertoire .

And so the journey begins where the woman finds very little about herself as desirable. Her focus is now on what is on the outside and her inner world crumbles from lack of attention.

Later, as an adult, G-D forbid her mate say something as simple as "Baby, I love you just the way you are..." and she will want to cut off his nuts and label him a "lame" for having "such low standards."

Unfortunately, the joke is on her. Her mate is right, she is a perfect version of herself - of which only one exist on the planet. The only thing that is true of the Other Woman is she is all powerful ...For she was created by the woman, not in her image, but rather in the image of all the things the woman believes she is not.

the Other Woman becomes an idol for worship and praise...except "the Other Woman" does not exist anywhere except in her imagination. Then it happens, because you know what we focus on will manifest, the Other Woman materializes in some shape or form in the life of the woman's mate.

Then true to nature, the woman will seek to destroy the 'image of the god' she helped create. This is why the woman never goes after the man who 'cheated'. It was never about him. He was only the vehicle to help her meet, in the flesh, and destroy the Other Woman.

copyright (c) 2011 Mel Hopkins

(c)Copyright 2010 Mel Hopkins

X-Files: Firecracker

2011-02-26T02:21:00Z

I think my old tooth fillings are playing music early in the morning - or I’m super sensitive and I am picking up signals and "hearing" information during satellite transmissions.

I woke one morning with this musical riff playing over in my head - and all I could do was sing it best I could into my voice recorder... Yea I know it's bad.

My family hated it especially the girls when I sent it to their phones. It was all I could do to get it out of my head. That was December 5, 2010.

This morning, I was going through my ritual of listening to music while I read and this song came on the Music channel's classic rhythm and blues station...

This time I heard the riff played professionally - it is from the song called "Firecracker" by Mass Production.
In this film "Contact" starring Jodie Foster, her character was a scientist in Search of Extraterrestrial Intelligence and she would listen to space'. She found "life" and they sent back a broadcast transmission of Adolf Hitler speaking at the opening ceremony of the Olympics.

Embedded in the transmission was a schematic of vehicle that enabled Jodie to travel 26 light-years from Earth to this place called Vega. Long story, short a multi-billionaire built one and she went. It was an 18-hour trip that only took a few earth minutes round-trip...

Now I don't know if anyone sent me anything - and if they did why would they want to send me "Firecracker" by Mass Production.

I don't even like the song - but that riff - mph, that riff is kind of hot! If I still produced music I would definitely sample that riff...~Mel

Copyright (c) 2011 Mel Hopkins

(c)Copyright 2010 Mel Hopkins

My Black History...

2011-02-20T14:03:00Z

Great Uncles James, Prince, and Drayton (Coo-Boy)

(c)Copyright 2010 Mel Hopkins

LOVE IS LOVE

2011-02-14T22:16:00Z

My most memorable Valentine's Day was in 1983.

I felt like I'd won the Publisher's Clearinghouse Grand Prize.
All day long and into the evening he made sure the gifts, stuffed animals, cards, flowers, calls, candy came non-stop.

It was so wonderful I took pictures of the gifts - No, not of him just all the great presents he brought to me. (I still have the pictures :wink-wink

Fast forward 11 years when I received my last V-Day gift in 1994. I believed it was more of a guilt gift because he had a mistress.

We divorced two years later. I think that's when I fell out of love with "romance" and went in search of LOVE.

This is exactly what I'm celebrating today. LOVE came to me in the form of the best gifts those two aforementioned men could have ever given me; my three baby girls.

Through my daughters, I learned the truth about AFGREKI' (Ethiopian: LOVE). LOVE is not what you're looking to get LOVE is what you give.

It is the only thing I know of you can give away in abundance but never feel empty. The reason why is so simple it's child's play.

Thank goodness, my daughters let me in on the secret before they were too old to remember.

My daughters taught me how to RECEIVE LOVE.

So without further ado, My Teachers, My Students, My Daughters...

"This Must Be Heaven" from Stormin' Performed by Brainstorm : written by E. LAMONT JOHNSON, ROBERT ROSS, CHARLES OVERTON, DAVID MYLES

Photo Credit: Eros and Psyche by Alix Beaujour

(c)Copyright 2010 Mel Hopkins

BORN AGAIN

2011-02-11T02:07:00Z

Like a scene out of "Entourage”, we entered into the posh restaurant tucked away in the mansion-laden, tree-lined streets of Hyde Park, Chicago. Once inside, you had a choice of sitting in front of, or behind the beveled-glass picture windows trimmed in walnut stained wood that open like shutters onto the balcony. We decline the alfresco dining since I would be joining President Obama who took a seat in indoors.

My Ob-Gyn, who had accompanied me to my luncheon appointment, whisked me away to a make shift triage for a quick examination before I sat down to lunch. Once he gave me the A-OK to proceed, I sat down with the President for an informal chat. I don't remember what we ate but I do remember enjoying hearty belly laughs with the President.

I joined my friend at another table once the President left - and I planned to spend a little more time enjoying her company and the Tudor-style architecture. Next thing I know, the need to push interrupts me and then I feel as if I dropped a load in my black and white herringbone patterned pants.

I summoned my Ob-Gyn over to me as I laid down on the French white oak wood floors. I asked him, "What did you do to me?" “I'm not supposed to be in labor - she can't die,” I screamed.

I was past labor; I had given birth to my first-born daughter who was grossly premature. I could see her brain through her fontanel that was visibly open and only covered by clear membrane.

I removed my clothes, positioned her on my bent leg that made an isosceles triangle with the floor and cradled her between the crook of my arm near my breast. She wasn't fully formed but I could see her facial features coming into focus. Then her brain dropped into the membrane sack and she nearly stopped breathing.

I cried out for help to my Ob-Gyn but he looked uninterested and said "Oh Well" and shrugged, as if to say"You win some you lose some."

I was losing her but I refused to let her go. I held my body closer to hers. I took deep breaths as if I could breathe for her. In a matter of moments, minutes or hours I don't know - My baby girl's brain and the membrane sack began to retract into her skull. She began to take regular breaths and became a fully formed newborn.

My baby would not only survive, she was on her way to thriving...

Then I woke up 02-09-11

Photo credit : Mayo Foundation for Medical Education and Research

BEDTIME STORIES

2011-02-08T14:29:00Z

Most men are invisible to women because women can only see them as characters in the stories they write for their own amusement.

This little ditty came to me after two separate conversations I had this past weekend. I found myself telling both of the women I was speaking with, to "stop making up stories about their man". Neither woman understood me, at first.

The first woman told me she was having a conversation with a man of interest - and he brought up sex early in their initial conversation. I said I was surprised he would bring up such an intimate subject. I asked her did you ask him for $5000. I mean really, I thought, if we are going to get personal then go for it right?

She said,

Woman #1: "When he talked about sex I didn't get the sense that he thought sex was an intimate act.

Me: "Did he say that?"

Woman #1: Well, no. It's just when men bring up sex early, it sounds generic to me.

Me: "It doesn't mean he feels sex is generic. If you don't know how he feels don't make it up. That is one of the biggest mistakes women make in budding relationships." We make up stories about a potential mate to fill in the blanks. Then when he does something that fits into the character we've created, we think he is the perfect man. "NOT".

She later found out he believes sex is very much an intimate act and was a bit embarrassed that she would even discuss it outside their conversation.

Don't Make Up Stories.

Woman #2 found herself on a journey that she would've never made if she didn't make up stories for her new beau. She realized this when she ended up lost in " East Bubble, Never Land". She said her friend stated that he never been to her neck of the woods, "Big City, On the Map" ...

Woman #2 "Since he said he'd never been to my city. I thought he wouldn't want to…”

Me: interrupting "…miss the opportunity of seeing it for the first time?"

Woman#2: continuing "but when I got there I couldn't find his house."

Me: "and that's when he came to get you, right?"

Woman# 2: "No. he talked me through the directions.

She said, after that date she didn’t want to see him again. He aggravated her with his indifference.

Don't Make Up Stories.

It seems to me when a man wants to see you; he will knock on your door. From Celebrities to CEOs, every man I've ever dated has picked me up and dropped me off at my front door.

OK so there was that one time - I drove three hours for a blind date with a man I met on Black Singles but I was under no illusion. I needed to get away. But I digress.

Yet, we women sometimes treat a man as a character in our screenplay. We give him all types of directions in an effort to get him to the final act: how to win our hearts.

In doing so, unfortunately, we make all types of concessions to enable him to play the part we’ve created, even if it means altering our own roles to that of “mommy”.

These men leave their mothers and come to us expecting us to pick up where their mothers left off. As adults, we are supposed to leave that paternal symbiotic relationship behind us. We are not supposed to continue as if it's some type of Greek mythology where our mate is Oedipus still trying to sex his mother.

If we, women want men in our lives, we need to stop enabling boys.

Please don't misunderstand, I'm not stating that tired cliche "Let a man be a man", either. I think that saying is stupid.

Biologically speaking, however it makes sense! The last time I checked my ova doesn't drop out my womb and go hunt down sperm. Instead, my ovum is electromagnetically-charged and attracts sperm.

If it works like that in nature who am I to try and change the course of action. I keep it simple. No need to try improve on what works.

Feminine energy is magnetic and attracts. Masculine energy is electricity. Put them together and guess what you get? Now granted, I'm single, my bullpen is empty, and it may very well be because I don't make up stories for men. I won't start either. I desire a man and not a son.

.
If the man doesn't know how to speak for himself by the time he’s an adult; well, I'm not willing to put my hand up his back and throw my voice for him.

That is too much like a M.O.M. (Manually Operated Mother)...

And while I, like most women, have strong nurturing tendencies, I believe, it is best to use those skills when caring for my children and those in the community.

As for men, I believe if you want to understand your role in relation to him, let nature takes its course.

Leave the stories for your books – and maybe just maybe you too will have a happy ending...

Copyright (c) 2011 Mel Hopkins

Photo Credit: Florian Vantuyne: Collect3d.com
Photo Credit: Salem-news.com
Photo Credit: Willie and Lester Dolls: willieandlester.com

(c)Copyright 2010 Mel Hopkins

MISSING HUSBAND

2011-02-02T03:32:00Z

I enjoy being single right up until the time some man asks me, "Where is your husband?"

Or he says, "Is your husband waiting for you?"

Or "Your husband probably misses you," blah, blah.

Now of course, the inquiring man is never interested in the concerns of "my husband".

He, of course, is getting ready to pounce depending upon what I say next - which is, "there's no husband". Following my declaration is his feigned look of surprise. Next, as if on cue, he begins to holler.

That's when I'm overcome with sadness. Like tonight, when the same conversation went down with my cab driver.

This time after the questioning began I blurted out, practically yelled, "I'm not interested in marriage." "Once is enough!", I added.

He then responds "Why don't American women want to be married?" "Every American women I meet, says she has no interest in marriage."

Now hearing him say this breaks my heart. Up to this point, he's been so very kind and you could tell he has a good heart. Unfortunately it isn't enough.

He wasn't very attractive and he was driving a cab. Seems brutal, right? Well maybe not. Something about this encounter made me realize what was brutal was my persistent lying to myself.

In fact, I've lied every time someone has questioned me about "My Husband". The truth is, I know "My husband" isn't unattractive, at least not to me, anyway. He also doesn't drive a cab.

I know this is information because I know my husband.

I barely heard the driver talking on my way to zoning out. Soon, I'm far away in my thoughts.

"Once is not enough", I remember saying when I met "my husband" a few years ago. I even took my birth name back. That is how I sure I was.

Then, I saw us dance at our wedding. We crossed the bridge of life together - hand and hand. I remember hearing someone say "she has his rib and it is good." He is my spiritual husband - not the secular husband bound together by state laws. He is my real husband, my heavenly husband.

Sadly, we haven't materialize on earth. I saw all this in a dream. A dream so real, that it hurts me to think about why I'm not walking by his side. Maybe it is my denial all these years that can explain why we are not physically together.

I slowly return to the moment and our conversation. I hear the driver say, "Well, you are single, you will marry me!" I laugh it off...but there's no smile to accompany it.

I return to my thoughts.

It is finally clear to me, denying "My dream" exist was enough to make it vanish...

"Every woman knows her 'husband'. Having the courage to wait for him to wake up is the hardest thing she will ever do."

NATURAL HAIR NAZIS?!?!

2011-01-30T03:07:00Z

Every 25 years or so a "War" breaks out in the Black community. Ironically, the war is an attempt to control the uncontrollable..."Hair" Unfortunately, the "War" allows for no prisoners. You either conform to the norm which in this case, is "Natural Hair" as it was with every generation before (see above: Madame Re-Re Salon scene from the Spike Lee's School Daze 1988) or run the risk of being ostracized if you choose to continue to straighten and lengthen your hair.

Case in point, I happened upon an online 'rant' from a woman who had finally had it with who she calls "Natural Nazis"

the post went as follows:

Dear Natural Nazis:

you are not "blacker" than me
...who told you I hated myself? Take a reeeal good look
I can't be the only one who sees the irony in you eating Big Macs and stuff....

"Ha ha ha "Natural Nazis" I love it Soror!" "Amen to that. I am sick of them giving me side eye because while I no longer perm, I am not trying to walk around with a fro and bone through my nose."

LMBO @ bone through my nose!!"Oh em gee...I just about choked

"LOL!!!! They do not believe me because I blow my hair out. I am not ready to embrace my inner "Kizzy" and maybe I will never be."

#FineAKAsuntilourdyingday..."If my hair isn't in a ponytail - I flat iron it too. I'm not ready either but I'm going for the Angela Davis 'fro at least once this summer."

"Natural Nazis...:chuckle: Like dude, you're going natural but it's just hair. I guess I can understand that mentally, it's like unshackling the mental bonds of slavery, but some people go too far. If people start busting out dashikis, naming their kids after the days of Kwanzaa, and rocking Africa pendants again, I'm going to have to rock a gheri curl with a fitted and get ignorant.

I'm personally not a fan of the afros on 70% of the girls, but I'm not a fan of the scalp patting, strategic weave scratching, smelly head whining perm having chicks either...

Explain the Big Mac thing though???"

Natural Nazis go on and on about how they can't use anything with ammonium or sulfate whatever in their hair...but *some* go on to pollute themselves with big macs and other unhealthy foods...I just think it's ironic. You care more about your hair than your arteries?

I'm obviously speaking of a specific situation...and there's levels of naturalness too...like the girls that don't color their hair look down on the girls that do...and same thing for the girls who straighten on occasions, or attempt to "manipulate their curl".

Is this going to turn into a light skin dark skin thing- the hair version?

Life is about choices. I respect your choice to look like a dirty ass eraser, and you should respect the fact that I enjoy picking at my relaxer scabs ::dead serious::

Yeah..and it's JUST hair ...but you go on and on about black men not liking your hair, and how they don't appreciate the Africaness of their women...but it's JUST hair....oooooooK

Not everyone can pull off the natural thing either...why don't u grow that sucka out a little before you cut it?! And are you not allowed to get a tape up?! Baldies out there looking all types of uneven...

AND being bald...AND choosing not to wear earrings or makeup is NOT a good look. I'm sorry.

Other things that crack me up....you went natural BUT you haven't read a book in 5 years. You're "natural" but you get regular Brazilians, why not go for the whole shebang?

You won't date a man because he's short but get mad because he won't date you because you have no hair?! O_o I'm obviously annoyed. Don't mind me.

"Lol! Oh my gosh...can I use this? I won't put your name to it but it truly expresses a lot of what I wanted to say about "natural hair vs the natural hair Nazis."

*you went natural, citing some newfound enlightenment/liberation mumbo jumbo...and haven't read a book in 5 years.

Definitely Soror Mel...I think people are afraid to sound off on them for fear of sounding like an Aunt Tammy (female version of Uncle Tom) if I want to perm my hair, and spend $90 on some hair, that's MY business!

And for the record: If you can celebrate your natural hair, while respecting another's CHOICE to perm or straighten their own, without forcing your opinions on them...you are NOT a natural Nazi.