Saturday, August 2, 2008

my self-love mango cobbler

it started during pride. the sadness. I was so angry cuz I saw very few butches of color. their presence was painfully absent, like they were all protesting pride. there was no one I saw—between Brooklyn pride, Manhattan’s pride, parade and parties that made me go, “well, damn baby, hello to you.” that shit knocked sadness into me so hard.

today. I made myself some self-love mango cobbler. from scratch. I figure hey, hearts break daily. this pain is real. I’m not denying or muffling it. at the same time, I want to give myself sweet, loving things, like a mango cobbler on a Saturday afternoon. from me to me. on Thursday I crocheted myself a beautiful set of earrings. from me to me.

I’ve been speaking with my girls, sharing my heart and listening to their stories. today Connie, my incredibly wise and deeply hilarious friend of about 5 years told me she said to her partner recently, “I’m the cake, you’re the icing. I am already sweet, you make life sweeter. and that icing can be replaced—strawberry, chocolate, whatever.” she had me cracking up. she don’t take no shit. she’s this fierce woman who knows exactly what she wants and who she is and always says what she means.

somewhere, somehow I let myself believe that fucking and dating make life better. but when I’m dating, my life is not better, just full of someone else’s shit. sometimes I want someone else’s shit—when it’s their love, their arms, their kindness, their humor. but sometimes I don’t, not when that shit is jealousy, insecurity, careless choices and fucked up behavior. I see people in relationships—some are strangers, some I know personally—and a lot of them ain’t fuckin happy, just stuck in some shit they’re used to and tired of but scared to let go of. or they’re scared they won’t be able to find someone else. or they want someone, even if they know that someone isn’t who they truly love. or they’re in love with the idea of being loved, even if the person loving them annoys the shit out of them. I know what that’s like. it sucks.

I actually feel better. for the first time in several weeks, the inside of my chest feels like something has been cleared from it.

I should probably eat something more substantial for lunch. but trust, I will be eating more cobbler later. did I tell you I had it with pineapple coconut ice cream melting on top? I love myself hard. the way I was meant to. can I get an amen?

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