I waited
Waited until the seconds became minutes
Minutes became hours
Hours became days

I waited
Waited until the days became weeks
Weeks became months
Months became years

I waited
Waited until my hair grew passed my shoulders
Until it turned from brown to gray
and watched it fall like a light rain

I waited
Waited until my hunger turned to pain
and that pain turned to anguish
Until the food became a memory

I waited
Waited as my body became emaciated
brown skin clinging to white bone
veins protruding

I waited
Waited until the youthful beat of my heart
slowed to the pace of a snail in a race
until the blood in my veins thickened

I waited
Waited until my throat dried
and became a desert from which my songs
would no longer sing

I waited
Waited to hear your voice again
Waited for those loving words
To make love of my soul again

J.F. Seary - poet/actor/educator. She has been writing and performing her poetry for over ten
years. Her poetry has been published in La Voz, a Binghamton University publication and the Sofrito for Your Soul online publication. She is currently a member of the NYC Latina Writers Group and Fantastic Experimental Latino Theater's Fantastic Latina Playwright's Lab and she is currently on tour with Urbintel Productions’ HerStory. In 2010she was a panelist at the 13th Annual Latino Book & Family Festival in Los Angeles, CA. In addition, she played the roles of Curan in King Lear and as the Volunteer in Is There Room In Your Heart? both produced at Teatro LATEA. She was recently cast as Gina (lead) in Open Mic: An Urban Love Story. www.jfseary.webs.com

Eunice Johnson was an entrepreneur and visionary whose dedication to promoting and celebrating positive Black images led her to create some of Black America's most enduring enterprises.

With her husband, she began Ebony Magazine in 1945.

Many years later she created Fashion Fair Cosmetics the first department store makeup for African-American women.

Ms. Johnson's crowning achievement, however, was the creation of the Ebony Fashion Fair in 1958.

Ebony Fashion Fair provided an outlet for Black beauty and creativity- launching the careers of countless models and designers who never would have been highlighted by the mainstream.

But the show was more than extravagant gowns. Over the years it has raised more than $55 million for charitable causes.

It's a shame that five decades after Ms. Johnson brought Black glamour to the masses we still get giddy upon seeing Halle Berry on the cover of American Vogue or Chanel Iman on Paris Couture runways.

It was Ms. Johnson, after all, who convinced Rudolph Valentino to use Black models in the 60s. There is still progress to be made.

Just days after her death in January of 2010, Mrs. Johnson was honored with a celebratory luncheon at New York City's Metropolitan Museum of Art. Guests included Former President Bill Clinton, Whoopi Goldberg, and current CEO of Johnson Publishing Desiree Rogers.



We honor you, Mrs. Johnson.

Black Women Who Changed History honors the contributions Black women across The Diaspora have made to the world. Each day in February we will feature a different woman and her achievements. The column will be weekly hereafter. Don't miss any of our featured women. Subscribe, Like, and Follow For Harriet today!

“No woman can call herself free who does not own and control her body. No woman can call herself free until she can choose consciously whether she will or will not be a mother.” Margaret Sanger

On New Years Day my brother was on the couch watching a marathon of the show “The Game” on BET as I was walking out of the restroom I heard a commercial that said, ” abortion is the #1 killer of African Americans,” needless to say I was shocked I really did not know what to say after hearing such a statement. Later on that day I went on MTV.com to find the show that MTV aired on December 22, 2010. MTV aired a documentary called “No Easy Decision.” This mini documentary chronicles Markai Durham who is a Black teen mother who finds herself pregnant for a second time and who chooses to terminate her pregnancy rather than to have a second child. MTV currently has a popular show on air called “16 and pregnant” which shows the drama, hardships, and the taxation of what it means to be a teen mother. I am very happy and impressed that MTV has broadened the conversation surrounding teen pregnancy and showed the alternative decision to being ’16 and pregnant.’

On one hand the commercial painted Black women who exercise their right to choose as domestic terrorist who are a threat to the Black community and on the other hand MTV showed the reality of what it takes to make a serious decision such as abortion. I understand that the abortion issue is one that is heavily tied to people’s morals and faith system, but abortion is far more common than we would like to admit. According to Guttmacher research institute 1 out of 3 women in America has had an abortion. As women we know this statistic to be more than true because if you take mental inventory of your female friends than you know at least one friend who has an abortion or maybe you are that friend who has had an abortion. So if 1 out of 3 women have exercised their right to make the decision to terminate their pregnancy then why do so many people act as if abortion is something that only “loose no moral women” indulge in? I myself have never been pregnant and have never had to weigh my options of whether to keep a pregnancy or terminate one, but I have had many friends who have had to make that decision and they decided for themselves to terminate their pregnancies. These women are in all walks of life some of them are in sororities, women studying to become doctors, women who are now wives with loving husbands and children of their own, church going women, smart women, articulate women in essence everyday normal women who are not prostitutes or crack whores. Just normal women who were faced with a hard decision and they choose to terminate their pregnancies. Most pregnancies are unintended. The Guttmacher Institute says that 40% of white women who become pregnant were unintentional pregnancies and for Black women its 69% and for Hispanic women its 54%. As a woman who advocates for all women finding their agency/power I find these numbers alarming why are so many women getting pregnant unintentionally?

I have dubbed myself the birth control queen because I am a HUGE believer in being in control of my body and my life. Pregnancy is 100% preventable. My motto is if I am on birth control and he wears a condom my womb is like Fort Knox nothing is getting in there. Now I understand that for married women or women in monogamous relationships using a condom and birth control may pose as an issue which is where the problem lies this is when communication and responsibility by both the man and the woman must be intact. Markai admitted she got pregnant because she missed her depo-provera shot aka depo and did not use condoms as a backup method and consequently she got pregnant. Markai said she did not know that if she missed her depo shot that she was not protected and therefore would need to use another method. When I heard this I was flabbergasted. How can a woman be taking a birth control and not now every piece of vital information surrounded with that particular brand of birth control? Our medical system does not do much to empower patients and that is why it is imperative that we as women take control at our doctor visits and ask our doctor or nurse practitioner all the questions we have and to do the research on what we are ingesting into our bodies. We google everything else why not our birth control? Government and the church down the street does not have the right to legislate a woman’s womb and reproductive rights what government should be doing is ensuring that every woman has access to birth control. I am actually shocked that birth control isn’t free by now no woman should feel pressured to keep a pregnancy because she either cannot afford an abortion or she feels guilt tripped into keeping her pregnancy.

It is a new year and a new decade and as women we should make it our priority to make better decisions about our bodies. Let this be the year that you practice safe sex every time not some of the times and let this also be the year that you take your birth control faithfully and if the current birth control you are on makes you fat, over emotional, or sick then go back to your health care provider and ask to be put on another one till you find one that works with your body and lets support all women’s right to choose and stop legislating our morality on another person its un-American!

What do you think about a woman’s right to choose?

As I stood in the middle of the shoe aisle starring at an array of stiletto boots, clutching my bill money; I realized I was more important than any bill. This understanding couldn’t have come at a better time. You see, at this particular time in my life. I had graduated over a year ago and was eventually forced to take a part-time job that barely paid enough money to keep the lights on. After a year of scraping just to get by. I had grown tired of not having enough money to buy what I wanted, tired of watching as women of all shapes and sizes confidently strutted about in the latest fashions. Simply put, I was tired of everyone (including my own seed) coming first. So the weekend I got paid, I made room for me.

I spent half an hour trying on a sundry of boots. Aware, but unsympathetic to my bill collectors; I bought a pair of black boots. Ironically, they costed just as much as the bill I should’ve paid. Knowing I didn’t have the money to cover both the boots and bill, I pleaded temporary insanity, and walked my happy ass out of the store.

Locked in my room, I pranced back and forth, examining the boots I had just bought. I tried them with every decent outfit that hung in my closet. I didn’t have a clue where or when I would wear them. It didn’t matter. For once I felt sexy, happy, and included.

I grew tired of prancing, dressing, and then undressing. As I sat on the edge of the bed prying the boots from my feet, my mother came to mind. I remembered the words she had spoken to me in my late teens as we walked to the corner store one late afternoon. She said, “Anybody who didn’t get paid, won’t get paid. I got to get my hair and nails done.” It wasn’t until I was seven months shy of my 30th birthday, and found myself between a pimp and a hard place; I finally overstood that random statement. Before, I had taken on my fathers ideals about money and paying bills. I made sure they were paid on time and before time. Even if they left me broke. Because I’d always had enough, It was hard for me to understand the reason my mom had chosen to leave bills unpaid, making something as trivial as hair and nails of utmost importance. Naturally, I was dumbfounded when I realized that fourteen years later, the question I had never asked aloud, had been answered by non other than life.

My mama ruled her queendom in survival mode. Somewhere down the line, she too realized she had to sacrifice a bill or two for her sanity. The more I thought about it the more I overstood the situation. You see, I discovered doing something, anything for yourself is just as important——if not more important as taking care of your kids, or maintaining your bills. When a woman, especially a single black mother, stops taking care of her mind, body and soul, the quintessence of who she was and is dies. The death of one’s esteem about herself effects how she displays herself, and vise versa. Before I walked into that store I felt like a number——like I had been wading in a pool of lifelessness. I had given all that I could give. The moment I decided to do me, I was rejuvenated. The night I danced and pranced in my new boots, it seemed all color had rushed back into my soul. Suddenly, I remembered my power. I remembered my strength——my place in queendom. Mostly, I remembered that I am STILL a woman.

In remembering my womanhood, my mind raced back to Cleopatra and Nefertiti. I wondered if this is how they felt everyday of their lives, and If this is what I’m supposed to feel like everyday of mine.

I know what you’re thinking. You got all of that from a pair of boots? You’re damn right. If I have learned anything about this world, its that we are creatures of forgetfulness. The art of forgetting makes remembering that much more powerful. The boots showed me that we women somehow remembered how to rule a nation (our lives, children and homes), but forgot to do so as women. Single mothers have ruled their households like men so long, the femininity has eroded. Thank God there are still monarchs like my mama, who are unconsciously, and properly showing us how to maintain a throne.


A social worker from Cape Cod Child and Family Services introduced Teneisha Franklin to the world of writing. As a young teen she hoarded much anger. Seeing this, the social worker advised her to invest in a journal. Little did she know, that journal would be just the outlet that would soothe her explosive emotions. Teneisha attended Fort Valley State University in fall 2007. She wrote articles for the universities newspaper, “Peachite,” and contributed her writing skills to news shows like WFVSUTV21 and Campus Chatter. She received her B.F.A (Bachelor of Fine Arts) degree in May 2009. Since graduating, Teneisha has written features, biographies and reviews for artists like Elise 5000 and R.E.A.L (Respected Entrepreneur At Large). Ms. Franklin also runs ablog called Imaginari, it is mainly used to discuss love, and relationships.

There was one poem that I kept thinking about as I helped my mother-in-law make pasteles for the first time before Christmas, also known as “Noche Buena.” While growing up, my grandmother made collard greens, cornbread, glazed ham sweetened with pineapple circles and cherries, and turkey. She prepared these meals until she could no long stand in the kitchen herself. My brother Marcel learned some of her recipes, and my youngest brother Chris has mastered some of my mother’s recipes, but I have had to find my own way.

Getting married to a Puerto Rican/Cuban husband meant us experiencing food that was familiar to him and new to me. I loved pegao, the hard, flavorful rice at the bottom of the pot. I enjoyed bacalao, but I don’t eat pernil since I haven’t eaten pork since my teens. The one thing that I had no idea where to begin was pasteles, and I knew I wanted to learn how to make this dish, not just for me, but if I am a mother, my children will be a part of their father and grandparents’ varied cultures.

I know how to make greens, cornbread, and I can make vegan soul food too, but I sat with my mother-in-law chopping calabasa, peeling yautía, and watching her stir achiotina into the filling. I know that she cannot make the pasteles forever. I was surprised to learn during Noche Buena this year that my husband’s sister didn’t know how to make pasteles either.

All I could think of was Nikki Giovanni’s poem “Legacies” originally from My House. The poem is easier to find in The Selected Poems of Nikki Giovanni (William Morrow, 1996). This poem is also set in the kitchen where an elder is insisting that a young person acquire the skills of a tradition rooted in sustenance. Food is a sensory experience that digs deep into our memory, and Giovanni shows that in this poem.

Legacies
her grandmother called her from the playground
         “yes, ma’am,” said the little girl
        “i want chu to learn how to make rolls” said the old
woman proudly
but the little girl didn’t want
to learn how because she knew
even if she couldn’t say it that
that would mean when the old one died she would be less
dependent on her spirit so
the little girl said
        “i don’t want to know how to make no rolls”
with her lips poked out
and the old woman wiped her hands on
her apron saying “lord
        these children”
and neither of them ever
said what they meant
and I guess nobody ever does

Tara Betts is the author of Arc & Hue. She teaches creative writing at Rutgers University. She represented Chicago twice in the National Poetry Slam and appeared on HBO's "Def Poetry Jam" and Jessica Care Moore's "SPOKEN." Her work has been published in Essence, Callaloo, PMS, That Takes Ovaries!, Bum Rush the Page, both Spoken Word Revolution anthologies, among other publications. You can find her on twitter as @tarabetts and at http://www.tarabetts.net.

Dear Chris Rock,

Like America’s conscience, I want to erase this moment in history but I can’t.

You’ve disgusted me to no end. I cannot believe I just witnessed your tasteless, callous, immature, disrespectful and unfunny “comedic tribute” to Oprah Winfrey. It was already borderline for you to joke about her money on such an occasion but you went way too far by cracking a sex joke about Oprah on the day she received her highest honor for the arts in the nation, by the President of the United States of America, in the Kennedy Center Honors:

The Presidential honorees, in total, were country singer Merle Haggard, composer Jerry Herman, choreographer Bill T. Jones, Sir Paul McCartney, and Oprah Winfrey.

Oprah Winfrey and Stedman Graham

Now let’s review your jokes, shall we?

Chris: Oprah’s SO rich…

Audience: How rich is she?!

Chris: Oprah’s so rich…that China owes HER money!

Audience: (laughter)

*There’s really no need to focus on Oprah’s money either but we can at least let this one pass, if nothing less, to remind Americans that their xenophobia and white supremacy are unjustified. But I digress…

Chris: Oprah’s SO rich…

Audience: How rich is she?!

Chris: Oprah’s so rich…that if she had sex with Paul McCartney, the SEC would have to approve!

Audience: (uncomfortable laughter, shifts in seats, polite smiles to neighbors)

HOW DARE YOU?!


How dare you disrespect a woman who has given America and the world so much spirit, hope and humanity even with the cars, sweaters and ipads via her medium of communications? How dare you, the only Black man, aside from Sidney Poitier, allowed to even give her such a solitary honor, take your short period of time in which to honor her and choose to focus on her body or make ANY type of sex joke to her at all, let alone in front of her peers and the world!!! You inappropriate imbecile!

Not only would that have been inappropriate to do to ANY woman but to be so disrespectful to Oprah Winfrey (!!!), under the guise of comedy…??? I don’t even have enough adjectives to describe the depth of Oprah’s beauty and humanity and how you trounced upon it. I’m aware Oprah is not perfect; but in the hour of her ultimate tribute, why, why, why did she have to be made to feel uncomfortable and why did it have to be YOU to do her so wrong?

Were you somehow UNAWARE that Oprah is a survivor of child sexual abuse and that, MAYBE, just MAYBE your sex joke might be inappropriate?

Did you, for a fleeting moment, give any thought to America’s sordid racial history and abuse of Black womens’ bodies, in particular, to consider that making an interracial sex joke about someone with whom she’s clearly not engaged, would be unacceptable?

"Boy was THAT awkward." "Yeah, I know..."

When you watched the show on TV (if you even bothered to see such a poor replica of yourself), did you happen to notice how uncomfortable you made Oprah feel and how she tried to politely laugh it off with Paul McCartney sitting next to her? You’re a lint licker with the stench of a rhinoceros’ butt!
Further, not only did you disrespect Oprah, her history, her body and her narrative, you also disrespected her man—STE(A)D(Y)MAN—someone to whom you could clearly not measure up. I bet Stedman would never do a film called, “I Think I Love My Wife”, but that’s another story.

Did you notice how John Travolta and Barbara Walters had to come out and swiftly, politely and awkwardly come and pat you down and shut you up? They did it under the guise of limited time but trust me, it was because you were so appallingly inappropriate in that bit you want to call “comedy”. You’re UN-FUNNY!

Notice the desire to continue to honor Oprah IN SPITE OF Chris

The stupendously dignified tribute that Jennifer Hudson gave is the level of honor Oprah Winfrey deserved. Did you see the way Oprah and Stedman held hands during her performance? Did you see the way her eyes welled up, how she could barely release her breath at moments? How she seemed so filled with hope and possibility as she transitioned from being the number one talk show host for the last 25 years to fortifying an institution she is supremely calling “OWN”?

Did it occur to you how powerful it was that Jennifer Hudson was able to stand there, as a new woman, a healthy woman, a blessed woman standing with dignity and grace singing the hit song, “I’m Here” from “The Color Purple on Broadway”, the theatrical production of the book and film that changed Oprah’s life and brought her to our living rooms everyday?

Yeah, I didn’t think so.

Jennifer Hudson singing "I'm Here". Breathtaking...

I thank God for JHUD’s performance because yours was a new low. You should be deeply ashamed of yourself and if you are not, it just tells me that you no longer have a conscience.

I wish you had heard the way I cussed you out last night. I’m not gonna put it in this post because I want to make sure everybody can read this at work—yeah, work, remember that?

This isn’t even the fist time you disrespected Oprah. Do you remember sitting on her chair, as a guest on her show and telling her that her childhood picture looked like that of a slave, as she tried to make light, self-deprecating jokes about her picture, knowing her childhood was filled with pain, abuse and…silence. Whelp, I’m not being silent if nothing more than for the child spirit in Oprah and little girls everywhere who have to deal with the likes of you!

Ole Scraggly

I don’t even know how you got on the dais for the occasion because you were certainly an inappropriate choice, coming up on that stage looking all scraggly and unkempt like the piece of dung that you can be but you didn’t belong there, no matter how many times you get your teeth fixed.

Why don’t you belong there? Because, Chris, it has become more than clear that you are an ardent misogynist who apparently rarely has anything good to say about a Black woman and if and when you are blessed to be in the presence of so many beautiful Black women then you don’t know how to act, you have no class and you’re seemingly always inappropriate. Do you treat your mother like this, Chris?
Speaking of muthas, not that you deserve it but…the next time you’re being interviewed by Oprah, perhaps we can talk about what it means that THREE separate women have made rape accusations against you. How about that, Chris? Since you like to talk about sex so much…it would be insensitive, wouldn’t it?

I hear tell your interlude on Kanye West’s new work is equally disgusting and misogynistic. But I bet you’re proud.

First Lady Michelle and President Barack Obama

Your jokes about Michelle Obama are mostly unfunny. Last night, you joked, “It’s amazing to look up and see the most important person in the world and — next to her — Barack Obama”.
The borderline, backhanded joke was more funny last night; but I hear tell even bell hooks is disgusted by all of the jokes you’ve made about our First Lady so far, including something about her “playing her position” in 2008 in your stand up. What gives, Chris?

I hope you witnessed, with each increasing guest and performance just how poor you were. Even Alex Baldwin was funnier and far more tasteful than you and he’s not even a comedian!

"Wow, aren't Alex Baldwin's jokes funny and appropriate?!" "How Refreshing!"

You, who created a film about imagining a Black President, unfortunately could not muster up the intestinal fortitude to stand in your full humanity and grace in front of one and honor a woman who has given so much to the world. Distinguished Gentleman, indeed…
Shame on you, Chris Rock, you owe Oprah Winfrey an apology and if the Kennedy Center approved your sorry script beforehand, they owe her—and us—an apology as well.
I doubt you’ll be a man about this but I just thought I should let you know that what you did was unacceptable and you need to change.

Sincere but So Disappointed,
Dr. Goddess

p.s. As for “Good Hair”, your documentary might have been more substantive and helpful had you remotely bothered to ask a Black woman scholar, say like Dr. Noliwe Rooks at Princeton University, to weigh in on research she’s been conducting for decades. But that would be too much like right…

p.p.s. Jennifer, you still take my breath away!

The media suggests that if black women can’t cook, clean or are too educated or we won’t find a mate. Well I am here to tell you: You are perfect just the way you are.

Your inability to spit shine your kitchen floor will not keep you from meeting the mate of your dreams nor will your ability to pick stocks better than your broker. But your low self esteem and you buying into the hype that you are not good enough will stop you from meeting a quality mate.

No other race puts such demanding, unattainable standards on their women. Black women are constantly being told that we are not good enough for one reason or another. If we get an advanced degree and score a six digit salary then we are too driven and according to the Yale Center for Research on Inequalities and the Life Course less likely to marry. On the other side of the coin if a woman has not finished school and makes a lesser salary. She is labeled a “bird” and men are instructed to stay away from her because she may be a gold digger.

If a woman is too outspoken she’s a bitch, if she is too meek she’s a victim…the list is endless.

At what point do we say, ‘This is who I am and I am enough’. I am in no way suggesting that women should become complacent, on the contrary; please do continue to improve who you are, live a healthy lifestyle, educate yourself. But do not think that you have to follow some well laid out plan to get a mate.

Now, I’m sure Steve Harvey will disagree with me, but trust me not being yourself is a sure fire to attract someone who likes and falls in love with…well, not the REAL you.

I know many women that can make biscuits that will melt in your mouth, clean like the maid brigade and are single. I also know women that can’t boil a pack of ramen noodles and are happily married.

It angers to me to see women telling other women that they are not worthy of love because they can’t do certain things. It is sad and oppressive. I don’t care how many food network shows you watch, some people will never be good cooks, just like some women will always be better at climbing the corporate ladder and some women are naturally skinny and some are not.
When will we start to appreciate the individual?

I was with a man who loved to cook, he insisted on cooking dinner every night because he wanted to, it brought him joy. Should I have clothes lined him in the kitchen and pried the spatula from his hand so that I could fulfill my womanly duties?

Let’s top judging ourselves and each other. Work to realize your natural talents, continue to learn new things and most importantly love yourself.

Candace Tyler is a writer, mother and social media enthusiast. During the day she works as a marketing coordinator and other times she writes short stories, blog posts, and scribbles in her journal. She has lived all over the United States but calls the Washington DC area home. Candace is very imaginative and enjoys yoga, dancing with her daughter and Twitter.