By SheelaR

I didn’t watch Diane Sawyers’ interview with Bruce Jenner, but my friends were watching and sending me text messages the entire time, and… While I fully support your transition, everything thing you’ve done up to this point, has been the actions of a coward. Having said that…you really should be a woman if that’s how you feel, but it should not have taken 65 years, three wives, six biological children, and four step-children to get to this point. None of us are perfect and we all make mistakes that impact the lives of the ones we love, but what is an acceptable cost? How many broken hearts before the it’s my life train stops?

When you decided to transition in the eighties, there shouldn’t have  been any more wives and children to hurt. That was the opportune time to make this precious journey you’re on. Instead…you drug another woman and more children into a life that you didn’t even love…one mired in confused. You deserve to have your mind and body on the page, but you could have eliminated some of this heartache by not creating more unsuspecting victims. It’s wonderful that your family seem to be supporting you, but you can’t tell me that tears, not those of joy, haven’t been shed. In life, heartbreak is inevitable, but there are times when it’s preventable.

You’re no hero to me, Bruce. Other brave souls had already paved the way for you, but you were too busy being wrapped in your own agenda to notice. You don’t deserve to be treated like a trans-superhero. You’re not in the league of transgendered pioneers such as, Christine Jorgensen, Dr. Marci Bowers, Renée Richards, Kim Coco Iwamoto, Michael Dillion, and Roberta Cowell….your journey and life has been one steeped selfishness.

I completely respect your right and innate need to be the woman you’ve always thought you were, but I shall not be handing you any kudos or slaps on your back, instead…I’m choosing to empathize with the women and children that have surely been hurt by this. Your Olympic gold medal status and fame doesn’t negate the responsibility you had to your families. I’m not even going to get into the whole messy reality show/fame whore aspect of it all…I shall spare you my disdain for the entire Kardashian/Jenner fame machine. Ratings seem to be just as important as your transition…and therein lies the problem.

I hope that you can finally find the peace and happiness that you’ve been looking for, it has been 65 years in the making. More importantly, I hope that your former wives and children can do the same. I suspect that they need time to heal too.

By SheelaR

There is a war on humanity, and we’re losing. We’ve lost all sense on right and wrong, some of which has culminated in historically low race relations. I’m hating the very idea that I feel the need to write this, because it’s an admission that I live in racially unfriendly place and time in American history. Racism is real and deep as the blood running through our veins. It’s painful. Every day…I have to struggle with how to define myself in world that’s acutely hostile to people of color. I’m someplace in the middle, I’m a woman of color, and I’m no place at all some days.

Today, some one said to me “I don’t see color, Sheelagh” Well, If you don’t see color, you’re engaging in oppression. Yes, I said that…you can breath now.  Not seeing color in a world that has divided it inhabitants by it, denies their very existence and experiences…all of which are based on the color of their skin. We may all be the same race, but our skin colors are not. That alone is at the very heart of racism and bigotry. Understand that this is bigger than us as individuals, this is a mankind issue. No more plausible denials. You may pull your head out of the sand now.

The constitution wasn’t designed to protect or ensure the rights of people of color, and it can’t be fixed on the strength of a single inhumane act. We must come to a resounding resolution that enough is enough, and we must act accordingly through our individual and collective acts to ensure that no man is ever again judge simply by the color of his skin. It’s not easier said than done, just do it. As the old cliche goes… “Don’t be part of the problem, be a part of the solution.” Don’t be a part of a system that has become comfortable stripping and denying people of their most basic human rights…to simply live.

All this I say is the truth, and unfortunately, the truth is never a welcoming piece of reality.

By ShelaR

It’s Resurrection Sunday, so I thought that I’d tackle something of a religious nature.

There is this saying that goes… “You have to meet people where they’re at, and start from there…”  In other words…you have stoop to or rise up to their level to reach them.  I’m thinking that’s what Erica Campbell, formerly the other half of gospel duo Mary Mary, was trying to do with her new single I Luh God. I can’t think of any other reason why she would she would give us such wretchedness. For a moment, I completely forgot that I was listening to gospel music. For me, it was terrible, but then again, I’m probably not the fan base/demographic she was hoping to reach.

It is secular in more ways than one, most notably, the song title itself. I’m ebonically challenged, so it initially went right over my head. I had that “something smells funny” look on my face. It is an odd way to spell love…don’t you think?  However, controversy sells, so she’s probably not bothered by all the hoopla surrounding this particular single. Album sales are probably skyrocketing as I write this, and I’m sure that is what matters most to Ms. Campbell and her record label.

It’s a musical coup of sorts. I understand that gospel has to evolve to reach people where they are, but is the demographic she’s trying to reach going to truly appreciate the part about loving God, or will they simply bump to the trap beat? I’ve added the YouTube link for you to have a listen. Maybe it’s just me. *shrugs*

Reach one, teach one? or Turning up for God? You be the judge…

By SheelaR

I don’t know when this phenomena of the New Black started, but it is an insult to the harsh realities faced by blacks in America every day. It is an idealism born in the mine of privileged blacks, whose money has bought them a false sense of colorless inclusion and respect. In America…there is no such thing as colorless. I don’t think it’s a far reach to say that these new black folks can’t and won’t even try to identify with the every day struggle that most blacks face.. Having being raised as a privileged woman of color…I’ve not lived the same struggled as most black folks in this country. I didn’t lose a sense of what it is to be black in America, because I never fully understood it. I grew up a bi-racial woman in predominantly white communities. However, these last few years has been somewhat of a wake-up call for me. I’m finally beginning to understand what it is to be black in a country where you color precedes you…when it should never matter in the first place.

Although I cannot lay claims of victimization to any egregious acts of racism, the covert ones have been just as painful. They often result in some lost opportunities to earn money in an industry dominated by white males. I find myself working twice as hard for scrapes and three times as hard for a seat at the table. I’m finding that my brand of privilege doesn’t always shield me from the cruel realities of racism. Stereotypes still apply. Doors that are open, are sometimes quietly shut. Invisible connections formed are sometimes broken at the site of my blackness.

Songwriter and Record producer, Pharrell Williams has been quoted as saying “The new black doesn’t blame others races for our issues. The new Black dreams and realizes that it not a pigmentation; it’s a mentality. And it’s either going to work for you, or it’s going to work against you. And you’ve got to pick the side you’re gonna be on.”  Huh? If only that were true. Being black is not a mentality…take it from someone who knows this all to well. People like you, Kanye West, Raven-Symone, Don Lemmon, Common, and many other rich and famous black folks…are completely disconnected from the larger group from you hail. You’re living in a self-imposed bubble and you’re pin prick away from the realness of everyday life.

We are not living in post racism America, and anyone that thinks their money buys them this reality…isn’t living in the same cruel world as the rest of us. Pushing the respectable black agenda won’t make those who hate your brown skin like you, respect, or accept you. Stop telling black America how they should adapt to racism. It’s not our problem to fix.

By SheelaR

After a short hiatus, I’m back to over-share my opinion about everything.  I’ve changed the name of my blog from Writing While I Talk to One Counter Culture.  Reason being…I’d like to tackle more social issues and less personal ones.  Don’t have a whole lot to offer right now, my brain is too tired.  I need to get up and pack for a trip to Brooklyn. Anyhows… I am off to bed. It’s has been a super long day.

P.S. Thanks for the name suggestion, Frank!

Goodnight! Sleep peaceful and deep, and don’t forget to dream 🙂

By SheelaR

I honestly had no desire to see this movie, but my heart needed to be made whole…so I begrudgingly agreed to go to the 11:55 pm showing with a friend. I promised that I would view it objectively, and I gave it an earnest try. As I suspected…I wasn’t impressed. For me, It didn’t live up to the hype. I get that it was about BDSM, but is that story-line really enough for an entire movie? I’d have to say no. I didn’t find myself relating to the main characters at all. It felt cold and detached.

Don’t get me wrong, there is nothing wrong with interjecting a little BDSM into ones sex life, but I prefer that level of intensity with a partner that I share a deep emotional connection with. I guess that’s why 50 shades felt so detached. The relationship between Christian and Anastasia felt a bit too contrived. No real sparks…at least not from my vantage point.

If I’m being completely honest…the popcorn was more exciting. It hit all my spots. Food porn for my mouth. Every handful was orgasmic. It was warm and salty and I like the way the butter coated the inside of my mouth. In between a full fist of popcorn, I’d occasionally pop a few Reese’s Pieces in my mouth, and my entire body would shudder. Making that whole experience complete, were long sips of my frozen coke. I can’t even begin to adequately describe how a mouth full of sweet cold liquid made me feel. After each long drag on the straw, I found myself letting out barely audible moans…with my eyes closed.

By SheelaR

I hope this day finds your love-tank on full. I’m spending mine at a women’s shelter. I was hoping for a different kind of day, but this has turned out to be just as satisfying. Instead of a day steeped in selfishness, I’m spreading the love to people who no doubt can use it more than me today.

“Only a life lived for others is a life worthwhile.” -Albert Einstein 

By SheelaR

This might seem like a bit of an oxymoron, but I’m a fairly private person. One of my biggest pet-peeves is people that cross boundaries into other peoples personal lives. I’m a firm believer in drawing lines and expecting people not to cross them, which leads me to this… Social media has basically erased all sense of privacy that anyone could want or possibly expect. Most people with social media accounts over-share and they have an unreasonable expectation for everyone else to do the same. I didn’t understand it before, but now I do.  Misery simply loves company.

My friend telephoned me in a bit of a panic. A picture and conversation shared in private, managed to make its way into the seedy slimy world that is otherwise known as Instagram. I have an Instagram account, but there is nothing remotely personal on it. I got off that slippery slop. Anyways… She is traumatized. She quickly deactivated all her social media accounts and quietly returned to a private sheltered place. I don’t blame her at all. Existing on the internet is like selling your soul to the devil. It can be an unkind and unrelentingly brutal place. 

By SheelaR

I’ve not been feeling well since my return from DC. Admittedly, some of it has been emotional. Not only I’m struggling with transitioning back to my old life, but I managed to pick up a stomach bug, and my cousin has been slowly…but not really moving out of my house. I kind of gave up and let the bad take over. Anyway… I managed to drag myself to the drugstore the other day, and I sat in my car and cried like a baby. Every single time I tell people that I’ve cried about something, it meets with audible gasps and total disbelief. They always manage to say “but you don’t cry!”

News flash! I do cry…a lot more than you can ever imagine. Yes, I’m a tough nut to crack, but I’m a sensitive one. It’s taken most of my adult life to finally admit that. I’m relieved that I have, but I’m struggling with being transparent with the sensitive emotional person in me. Every time I let the sensitive girl out to play she comes home crying. Lately, she cries about everything and sometimes, nothing at all. Don’t get me wrong…it’s perfectly normal and healthy to be in touch with your emotions. However, I’ve been touching mine a bit too often lately. I’d like to have more of a hands off approach with all that emotional shit.

Everyone is super into texting these days, so it’s made crying in private a little easier. No one has to hear me sniveling in their ears for hours. The constant embarrassment of crying out loud to others would drive me to seriously drink. Speaking of which…I’d like to be a closet drunk but the health nut in me won’t acquiesce. Which brings me to…my BFF Dawn called to talk about her baby shower and I managed to hijack the conversation by crying about things that no one cares about. We ended the call laughing like a couple of 13-year girls, but it was exhausting getting there. She managed to squeeze in “You don’t have to be so strong all the time. I like the you that feels deeply and cries about it.” That made me smile 🙂

I know this whole post has turned into a ginormous TMI moment, but it’s all for a good cause, my sanity. Writing keeps me sane in an otherwise insane world. Simply writing in my journal, just won’t do anymore. This is akin to therapy…free therapy. I’m also sharing this because we all struggle in life. I’m not looking for advice or sympathy. Ups and downs are innate and inevitable to the human condition. It’s also good for another soul to see that they are not alone. No one is living perfection, despite their attempts to convince you otherwise. My most read blog posts are the ones where I share my personal journeys, because someone else is identifying with the struggle. It doesn’t matter how wonderful your life is, the storms will find you. You have to decide if they’ll give birth to flowers or floods.

P.S… This is the last poor me post that you’ll see this week, month, and year. I’m moving on to my old positive and upbeat self. I’ve had enough self-therapy to last me a lifetime.

The last two weeks have been overwhelming. I’m home and I’m physically and emotionally drained. I was home several hours before I told anyone. It took several hours of being home alone before I was ready to talk to anyone. I’m sorry…I needed me time that didn’t include communication with anyone one in any fashion. 

I’m experiencing some feelings of grief and loss right now. The emotional lows are outweighing the high ones. I left people that I’d formed deep emotional attachments with. Although, the people here make up my circle and foundation, DC…has become that other place that I can call home.

During those first few hours, I tried to do things that made me feel good. I made us some comfort food…a pasta dish from scratch. It was super good, gave me warm and fuzzy feelings. I went back for seconds…don’t judge me!