The city never afforded her body the chance to be this intimately part of creation in the way to which her eyes were now experiencing. The sun danced splashes of yellows on her skin and the light immersed her body into the landscape. Forty-two acres of earth welcomed Chelsea until her eyes were not big enough to hold all of it at one time. The sun seemed to come down from the sky to personally greet her and she felt a closeness to the heavens like never before. It was as if she could reach up to the sky and capture the wings of angels in the palms of her hands. A treasure of luminaries in a bowl of black dirt. The only sounds audible were locust and grasshoppers that leaped through the air like children playing hide and seek with the clouds and the growling motors of cars racing by. The land did not reach any homes on the right or the left for at least a mile or two nor were there any houses in front of her. Chelsea remembered feeling lonely and yet the way the trees stretched its branches wide reminded her of a mother’s embrace. Only Forrest stood across from her, a gate closed her into her grandmother’s inheritance, and community spoke like laughter beyond Sara’s womb. She bent her knees and crouched closer to the ground, plucking handfuls of grass from the rich dirt. She had to touch it to make sure that it was real. How could something so beautiful be the result of something so painful? What Grandma Rose left to her would nourish generations of children and her heart ached that Nana would not be here to drink glasses of lemonade on the front porch of their country home or eat tomatoes fresh from the garden. “Rose”. She said it below a whisper and let the smile crease into her face and wrap itself around her cheeks. It had been weeks since she smiled. Nana always knew how to do just that. Amazing how she consoled her even beyond the grave. The woman let the emotion wash over her and the tears race down her face and drip from her lips. The sun bowed its final curtsy before lowering itself into sleep for the night and Chelsea cried for the last time. Her tears all courage shaped in her throat. Finally, the grief had come to an end.
The clouds outshine the sun today. They have somehow managed to rise from their floating thrones and to share their crown with us. There’s a splash of brightness in the air, but I am convinced it is not the sun; it is the clouds. And as the day looms with the kind of gloominess that gives off fatigue, I cannot help but wonder how many of us search ourselves in the shadows. In places where we are left with the ambiguity of image, and grow like a silhouette of flesh. Sometimes writing is gloomy like these clouds, light enough to swing suspended in the air but with rain drops too heavy to see. Illuminated, and yet barely understood. But the clouds outshine the sun today and inspiring writers have managed to reach the ground and nourish souls with their words. Writers, who emerge from behind obscurities like clouds, have come down from heaven to purify the air and make footstools of the soil, that their readers may eat.
The world as we see it, and as we know it, is a Feminine world. It is a place where women are first in everything. A place where strong men are constantly emasculated; any sign of strength taken and softened to fit the approval of clean faces and man bags. To qualify as a “good man” he must do everything for her, but she is not expected to give anything back. A man does not have the right to defend himself when his life is threatened if it includes women; yet, women are allowed to fight alongside men in brutal and violent wars. A woman cannot naturally produce seed without the sperm of a man, yet, she can abort a baby without him because it’s her body. No one will inquire of his opinion. No one will seek his feelings and beliefs. No one will bother to search out his heart about what he helped create because women do in fact, run the world. Lady Liberty is a Queen. She stands unmoved in the middle of the New York Harbor as the symbol of the world’s leading country, the United States of America; her head is covered with a crown and her arms are raised to shine the light of illumination on mankind. Even in marriage, when the two become one the man must propose on one knee; he must bow in submission of his queen.
Indeed, I have a bone to pick with the feminist movement…
As is my custom, I don’t like making these articles extremely long so we’ll cut to the chase here. I’m going to purposely skip past some information because contrary to popular belief, the feminist movement is not about innocently advocating for the rights of women in the context that we should be treated with love and respect. It is not simply a movement to help women to understand their worth as human beings and to understand the signs of abusive situations with men. Truly I wish it was that simple. But this is not what the feminist movement is about.
In truth, The Feminist Movement in general has to do with authority and role reversal. Whether we are talking about a series of campaigns for reforms on issues such as reproductive rights, domestic violence, maternity leave, equal pay, women’s suffrage, sexual harassment, and sexual violence, all of which fall under the label of feminism, at its core is the desire for women to be equal in authority with men. It is women who believe they are deserving of the same level of authority as a man.
The problem however, is that when man was initially created he was given a level of authority that was not given to the woman. It does not suggest she does not possess authority, it does not mean she is inferior, and it does not mean she has no place, it just means her place does not surpass that of the man’s. He, the man, was created first, and she is his helpmate. For this reason, because he was created first, it is impossible for her to lead him. Despite whether or not his masculinity has been compromised, a woman cannot be a man and a man cannot be a woman.
The line that separates the role of men and women have been blurred, twisted, and manipulated by members of the Feminist Movement for quite some time. It is a misunderstanding of submission and authority. It is taking abusive men and saying that men cannot be heads of households because of him. It is taking the abused woman, and saying that she is the embodiment of submission. It is giving of movies, TV shows, magazines, speeches, advertisements, music etc., and creating an image of the woman’s role of submission to that of weakness, and a form of slavery. But it wasn’t until the Feminist Movement and its portrayal of certain images and definitions of words that men and women started to take on the mindset that if a woman does not have the same exact role as the man that she’s somehow inferior. While before these images women, especially the so called Black woman, understood the power of being on one accord and establishing order within the household.
A great misunderstanding of a woman’s role and it’s confusion with household chores also took root and became mainstream. We were taught that submissive women stayed at home, raised the children, and cooked dinner while the man worked outside the home, came home and did nothing. While there’s nothing wrong with a woman who stays at home full time to care for her family (it is a great responsibility that should not be looked down upon), as the ad suggests, it was as if a man who ruled his household like the days of old didn’t cook; it was as if he didn’t clean and had no say so in the raising of his children. As such women gravitated toward the notion of feminism because we were taught that for a woman to work outside the home it made her independent and free. The truth is however, that where a woman chooses to be of service does not define her submission. Men can cook dinner, raise the children and wash dishes and still be the head of his household. Under the same token, a woman can work outside the home and still fall under submission to her husband. It is not where she is of service, it is her attitude while of service. But, by outlining these erroneous differences, something as simple as household chores were applied to men and women’s roles. In this way, Feminist were able to craftily defend their position that if a woman is not given the same authority as a man she is being abused. Words like Obedience and Submissive got changed into images like Slavery and Fool and what woman wanted to be a fool? What woman wants to be someone’s slave? And so therefore we have women latching on to the FM under the simple understanding of equality and freedom. But what they didn’t tell us was that this freedom is to release the woman from her natural position in life as helper and counterpart to the man until she now despises this very prestigious position. She thinks she is a queen, but she has been reduced to a fool. Ironically, she has become in her disobedience the same slave she thinks being obedient to her man makes her.
I will soon come back to this topic when I have more time. But at the end of the day, whether we’re talking about role, duty, clothing, etc., the purpose of The Feminist Movement is to supply the woman with the same level of authority as the man. This seems innocent enough in terms of rights, but it’s deeper than that. Of course men are to respect women, but women are also to respect men. No matter how we look at this, what The Feminist Movement sets out to do is to disrupt the natural order of things.
I have one simple message for you today: “Don’t be stupid”.
What I mean is, don’t be foolish. Some of us are so “overtly intelligent” that we are unable to appreciate the little things, and the simplest of manners shoot past us like a bullet. We may know the intimate details of Pythagorean’s Theorem, but we are unable to comprehend something has simple as the music in the trees or the praise coming from the lips of birds. We’ll philosophy on evolution and even teach this in our schools and at the same time admit it’s just a theory. Yet, we’re unable to understand “in the beginning”. And despite how many times we wake in the mornings…the number of times the Almighty Yah allows the sun to dance once more in our faces…despite how many times we feel the wind on our backs I’m convinced, that because man will never know how to count his breaths, he will always be too stupid to count his blessings.
Humility is loving that which is poor
it is bringing oneself down
becoming a servant to an innermost consciousness
to appreciate that which is forgotten
to relapse back into a state of childhood
where even something as great as a piece of broken glass
where it is not glass
it is not dangerous
it is just a mirror into which we see ourselves