me, too

Written by Jasmine Jones

me, too.

let me start off by saying i’ve seen many beautiful courageous women and men talk about their experiences but i never wanted to share mine because i hate the feeling of pity.  i’ve felt it every time i tell a person one of my mother passed away for the last 14 years. i’ll often go along with the conversation when people ask about my parents, assuming both are still living, because i hate the look of embarrassment and pain people give me when i tell them i only have one.

i’ve only told this story to two people but i feel like this needs to be shared. because many women have been in my same position. and this may reach the right person that needs to see it.

hyperaggressive dawg. 30’s. abuser.

i still remember the feeling of shame, guilt, disgust and drunkenness as I drove home. as ive gotten older ive become more mature and aware of the dangers of drunk driving and how dangerous it was for me to drive in that state. but in that moment i knew i needed to get away. for my sanity. for my safety.

i still remember my weekend routine. get dressed up, meet up with friends, get numbers and delete them the next day. rarely would i respond to men the next day asking for dates and the opportunity to “get to know each other.” but this guy seemed pretty nice, pretty established. and my early 20’s self wanted to find a man who had his life together because i just knew i was ready to settle down (spoiler alert: im still not there yet).

i agreed to hang out with this guy and watch the game because my favorite team was playing. he took me to the liquor store and let me pick what i wanted, which i thought was pretty nice. we watched the game and took a few shots and i told him i was ready to leave because it was getting late. he all but forced me to stay and drink more in order to leave. as i look back i want to cry because i can still remember the sense of fear i felt. he was a pretty big guy and i am all of 5’3, 120 pounds on a good day.

i drank more until he felt satisfied. i still remember his clammy hands dragging me to his room. his nasty ass fat ass sweaty ass body all over me. i was distraught, disgusted, and unable to move. these are the things we weren’t taught about in school. my fight or flight was impaired. once he was satisfied i left. leaving the door unlocked i prayed someone put him out of his misery. so no other woman would feel the sickening feeling i felt.

i remember blaming myself for the situation. after all i was the one that willingly went to his place. i was the one that picked out the bottle. i was the one that drank. (its not like he put a gun to my head. right?) i blocked his number after several texts of him asking, begging me to come back over. i never was able to tell him how he made me feel.

a few years go by and a friend and i go to an event his group was having. i thought “surely he wont be here. he’s way too old, hell im too old, to be out here. but of course, i look up and see him. i try to explain it to my friend and let her know im uncomfortable and want to leave. she’s enjoying herself and asks why. i say, in the most silent voice possible, “the guy that raped me is here and im ready to go now.” she repeats what i say in an annoyed, loud tone and i suddenly feel that shame hurt and disgust. hearing someone else say it honestly makes you feel like shit.

growing up, i never thought i would be that person that had to deal with the feeling of seeing their attacker. i was always stunned and felt pain for the victim of movies or tv shows but i never knew i would be that person. but at 25, this was the second time i was faced with that same pain. the second time i felt like my campus, my safe space, was violated. the second time i reminded myself that i had to keep that same cheery smile and excited attitude while looking and watching to make sure the person that hurt me wasn’t nearby.


i
want to go back to that 18 year old, that 23 year old, and tell her that its okay. tell her to speak up. and tell her that she doesn’t have to blame herself. but to anyone reading this and feeling the same way i felt: its okay, speak up when you are comfortable, and never, ever blame yourself. and to quote a beautiful line from outkast “hold on, be strong.”

Yesterday She Cried

Written By Akemi

She let her tears run away with her imagination, picking up her old problems on their way to a final snot drenched resting place.

See, these tears that pour out fast, the ones you can’t blink back aren’t the kind you run away from. They’re the kind you look forward to after an extremely long day, or a long explanation that doesn’t take the sting away from the breaking feeling in your chest.

It’s relief. It’s the river you row that empties out at peace. You cry, you writhe, you heave, you sweat & spit… spill over your perfectly manicured edges… let yourself be… messy.

Then, once you’ve fallen apart at the seams & you’re in a puddle on the living room floor, something happens. You look around, up at the ceiling, down at yourself &… things don’t seem so bad.

Yesterday, she cried that cry. Today she’s back to conquering the world.


Akemi can be found on Twitter @_blackdaria and Instagram @rundmcee 

Seduce

Written by Samantha Rose

(s)

waves in my brain
crash against the edge
of my skull
a dimming lull

(e)

sometimes i recall
the way you say
my name
i think
about steamed breath
flooding my ears

(d)

lips graze
thinnest part of me
journey beneath
ear to collar
tiny mountains rise
soft residence
sensual simplicity
sends electricity

(u)

at the edge
of our ecstasy
our shadows wait
to greet us

(c)

i’m here to feel
your flesh
merge with mine
true awakening

(e)

i don’t know you yet
i feel your sweat
fill each of my pores
hot anticipation

–  soulmate(s)

i accept death.
decayed fingers grip my throat,
wrap tight and slow
like the boa constrictor.

i ache for rebirth.
stuck holding on
for some reason.
i’ve become one
with vines,
rusted wires.

i want to live
for you
at times
feels like breaking
bones that choke me.

love should be easy.
i don’t think it’s that
i don’t love you,
but that i do.

– let go

i am in love with the life on this earth,
i am in love with the dirt,
i am in love with all of the venus-in-aries flirts.

the more that i come home to myself,
the more i wallow in my worth,
even more love is then birthed.

bliss pours
through me
hot body parts
react
i feel it in my bones
building up

i find myself soaking and seeking
only that which lives
inside me

– sex magic will heal the earth


Samantha Rose is the author of two books of poetry, most recently, 
L’ACQUA. Her writing has been featured in The Occulum, The Milk Thistle, ILY Mag, and more. She is also the Creatress in Chief of Pussy Magic. For more, visit sunrosedivine.com.

 

Connection

Written By Demetra De’Vine Davis

I put my hand out to feel the warmth of your skin.

smiling because you’re there

rolling over to peek at you before succumbing to sleep

Our eyes meet

Are we thinking the same thing?

 

Follow Demetra on Twitter and Instagram @DeeDe_Vine

Relief

Written By Indigo Blackbird

I’m really not impressed by material or possessions like most of my peers. I mean of course we value them because they are tangible items that we have collectively given meaning to. But I feel that it’s truly hard to love me when you are worrying about getting me things, or what will please me when what I truly value is your existence in my life. Seeing you struggle or go out of your way to gift me things can sometimes take away from your long terms goals and I understand that. We can acquire all that we want together if we come to that decision but it is not a need.

I understand you want things for yourself just as I do and I want to encourage you to pursue them even if that means I am not a part of the picture. Your best interest is my own and if you can’t take care of yourself I would not expect you to take care of me even if I know you would try your best. My love is far too unconditional. Relax…there’s no pressure just as long as we can openly communicate our boundaries we can still treat one another. Every once in a while a thoughtful gesture is practical but when you feel that someone is obligated to ‘give’ then your love becomes selfish instead of selfless.

Relationships are an endless flow or surrender/victory (compromise). Sometimes we forget that having a partner is about operating interdependently and it leads to misunderstandings, hurt feelings and rejection. If we can learn to experience each other as we are without fearing that we will fail to meet each others expectations, we can truly experience profound growth. Plus once you have accomplished your own missions/goals you have better means to contribute to your partner’s life in the way they truly deserve, as opposed to you taking them out every weekend but this is just me venting and reflecting on my own thoughts.

I’d rather just question our existences and stroll in the park, spill out our secret passions, go swimming, hiking, dancing, embrace you while you tell me the things you never wanted to admit, support you and your craft, etc. Just enjoy other. Be free together so that you can create the foundation for better health and wealth. But even if you fail, use that momentum to launch yourself into success. It is okay to fail. We all do. We all learned how to read, this post for example, but we had to practice… So keep practicing.

Putting in effort doesn’t stop because you have a title, that is where love becomes caged. Allow your emotions to guide you and don’t suppress them. Honor your feelings while being conscious of the world around you. The riches will come, so just keep dreaming and inspiring one another but most of all–yourself.

Follow Indigo Blackbird on Twitter @VenaiiGloxiniia and  Instagram @Indigoblackbird

La Petite Mort

Written By Jasmine Jones

Sheek. 34. Scammer Paterfamilias.

I met him while I was sitting in front of the infamous “Booty Wall” at the Quad. I was a 19-year-old freshman at Howard University and I wanted to see what all the hype was about. He pulled up in his ’97 Honda Accord thinking he was the shit. And I won’t lie, I thought the same.

He’d come pick me up every now and then and we’d ride around Maryland while he told me about his epic battles in his hometown New York. My Tennessean southern belle ass ate it all up too. Our nights would usually end with him passing out after about an hour of begging to “just put the tip in.” At this time I was a proud virgin, holding out for only the right one to come around.

I will never forget about the morning I literally saw Heaven’s Gates open. I was laying in his bed, which was in his mother’s basement. And I heard his mother call his name. I never met her but I could imagine she resembled Biggs’ aunt from Shottas because of the way she called his name. It was like that of a woman who spent too much of her life raising bad ass children with no father figure present just to see them become what their father was.

I literally felt the annoyance in her voice when she called his name. I laid there like “fuck. This woman gon’ come in here and beat my ass and his” but luckily he ran to greet her with a “Mommy I’m here.” I breathed a sigh of relief and rolled over, and I realized, this nigga had Power Rangers sheets. I knew then that I had gotten into some deep shit I didn’t want to be a part of. So I tried to pretend I was in a deep sleep when he came back. He knew I was faking and woke me up to kisses and fingers.

Now usually I would push him away but for some reason I felt that shit and was like “Fuck it, what do I have to lose?” I curled back and felt him inch in closer and closer. And the feeling that I usually felt would usually make me run to the bathroom because I swear I thought I was about to piss myself. But he kept going and I opened my eyes and looked up and saw a light shine through that basement ceiling. I let out my best “Breathe Again” Toni Braxton moans and let my body follow the light. My first orgasm, wrapped up in Power Rangers sheets, and holding a grown ass man who refused to grow up. It wasn’t the most romantic moment, but to quote a line from a beautiful Andre 3000 interlude “Fuck it. I liked that shit.”

Let’s Dance!

 

Written By Jameca McGhee

Have you ever tangoed before? It’s such a beautiful dance. You’re either the lead or you’re following. I love following because I like to get spun around, and throw my hands in the air. It’s such a romantic feeling. You can get carried away in letting yourself feel free. The exact opposite of what it feels like to be in a relationship to many people, myself included.

I’m naturally very private. I don’t like to open up, you have to pry information out of me. Once I’m very, VERY comfortable with you, I’ll let you in. Some people are open and will tell you their life story within 5 minutes of meeting you. I always find an escape route immediately when I meet a “sharer.”

I’m also an empath, meaning I feel things very deeply. Including energy that other people give off. Sometimes it’s hard to differentiate my own energy from the energy I’m attracting. I end up feeling drained and frustrated. I’ve learned over the years how to balance this by working on my chakras.

If you’re not familiar with your chakras, chile, wyd? From the 3rd eye up, I’m goodt! Those lower chakras get me every time. I always start with the root, because that’s my biggest struggle. Then I work my way up to the throat, and eventually to the crown. The chakra I’m most focused on now is the sacral, which focuses on creativity, sexuality/sensuality, and feelings. I’ve learned that empaths feel through their “gut,” hence the term gut feeling.

I’ve been taking belly dancing classes to get in touch with my sacral chakra. I would recommend anyone wanting to get in touch with their femininity to take belly dancing classes, especially women who’ve recently given birth, and trans women. I’ve learned to let down my guard with myself, which is honestly what’s most important. I allow myself to feel. I look at myself in the mirror while I’m dancing and I smile, usually thinking, damn I look goodt!

Find me on Twitter and Instagram @jamecaishia