day167 - I was just thinking . . .

day167 - I was just thinking . . .
Originally uploaded by darnib

This morning I woke to a storm of words swirling in my head. They saved me from a nightmare that fancied itself a dream. Words became phrases that turned into sentences that soon became paragraphs shaped into voluptuous stories. I groaned and grasped for the skim of sleep I had cultivated at midnight. I wanted to remind the words -- I don't write anymore at least not as often as I used to. What are the reasons? Fear – Rejection? Time. It takes too much time to say what's really going on and I run from the words and the time and the rejection. Besides, who's gonna care? Who really gives a damn about what I have to say or write? I'm just another black woman and you know what that means (especially if you let Fox news and angry Hillary Clinton feminists tell the tale). From them, the definition of a black woman: loud, rude, mean, angry, fat, bitter, hateful, overbearing, controlling, out of control, lacking gentility and grace, a gal, violent, aggressive, ungracious and vicious . . . and sometimes invisible until the moment arrives that a scapegoat for all things wrong and unholy are needed. Based on that, I mean really, who cares what I have to say, what words I use to say it or what I've had to see, how I've had to live and the run-over shoes that took me to places near and far? Who cares? Who? I do.