I just recently attended the 13th annual Transgender Day of Remembrance (TDOR) commemorating the violent deaths of transgender people across the world. I was absolutely blown away by the keynote address given by U.S. Congressman Alcee Hastings, but for me the evening’s emotional impact began several months back when on a trip to New York I visited the Stonewall Inn (Birth Place of the LGBT Movement In The U.S.) for the first time which I found odd considering that I was born, raised, came out in that city, and I had attended Stonewall 25 (celebrating the 25th anniversary of the Stonewall uprising).

As I entered the dark and narrow bar, I felt this energy course through my veins that was electric, and I could still feel the energy of revolution in the midst of the cocktail social hosted by HRC. As I began to tour the inn I took special notice of the historical photographs. Images of people who did not conform to traditional roles, men not only not afraid of, but flaunting their femininity, and I Got It!

As a person who was struggling with my own gender identity, and being afraid of being perceived as a freak (which duh, being a black, female-bodied cross-dresser with a bald head, 37 piercings and 14 tattoos didn’t make me freaky already!). I was afraid that presenting my truest self, as a man, would be the one thing that people could not handle...the thing that would push people over the edge and away from me. But as I looked at those images on the wall of transgendered womyn who were so daring to be themselves at a point and time when it was much less safe to do so than now, I thought to myself that we would not be where we are if they hadn’t dared to be who they are. I also felt the responsibility to live authentically so that next generation see’s possibilities. So I made the decision that night to fully, and publicly live in my truth no matter what.
            
 I write this for my beloved, family, friends, and my community. As I am reflectively headed toward my 40th year on this planet and taking stock of what I desire for this part of my journey to look like; I realize that I can no longer live in a fear that has keep me  from expressing myself fully as myself; as a transitioning transgendered man.

Transitioning from a black feminist dyke (from a lesbian separatist age) to Black transman (who is still a feminist) I get isn’t something that many who know me saw coming, but as my Dad said “who would really be surprised “?

I have often said that being born female bodied raised in a single parent household in a environment that lacked strong male representation but was rich in strong female role models probably saved my life.  Because of the tenacity of the womyn I witnessed growing up, I knew that I could carve my own path and that path has lead me to a fuller understanding of myself. So, I will forever value, adore, and appreciate the power of the feminine.

I sat in the Transgender Day of Remembrance service listening to Congressman Hastings’ impassioned words as he reflected on the change he has seen South Florida, and particularly Broward County as it has transitioned from segregated to progressive, and the price paid by the oppressed and their oppressors for that change. I got once again that oppression, in all of its forms, is inter-connected and that our actual fear of change is the very link to all forms of oppression.

I also realized that whether it’s conservatives who want to “protect the sanctity of marriage,” or  it’s the feminist lesbians who have known me as a part of this community for years and have expressed unwillingness to shift to male pronouns, the fear of change is a common link for us as a species. Sure if there is no change than there is not the challenge of changing, but then as well there is not the empowerment of growth either.  It is our fears that keep us in the strongest most fortified prison of ourselves with no necessity for armed guards, iron bars Or steel doors while we play Warden over the liberty, justice, and happiness of other’s.

As citizens we declare in the pledge of allegiance a land with liberty and justice for all, but spiritually I don’t think that we get that we are entitled to certain inalienable rights as a unique, divine, unrepeatable creations we are entitled to joy, happiness, and fulfillment. Most times fulfillment is on the other side of change and the lesson in change is releasing our attachments to people, places, and things, because our level of challenge with change is proportionate to level of attachment to a particular outcome.  The courage to CHANGE the things we can is not just a catchy line in a prayer it is a constantly unfolding mandate to continue to manifest our fullest ever evolving selves.

My family is not losing the experience of me as a daughter/sister, my womyn sister/friends are not losing the experience of me as a feminist womyn, and the community is not losing the experience of me as a “strong dyke”; but the new experiences of my now manifesting self would value the opportunity to be known as the man I feel blessed to be becoming.

My Dad told me he felt that for him “it’s not about who shows up at the table, but what they bring to the table.” Phil Wilson a leader I so value said, “People can’t love us if they don’t know us” and Congressman Hastings concluded his address that night with a call for guts. So I answer the call of these men who I hold dear to have the guts to let people know who I am by bringing my fullest self to the table. May we all manifest courage for change.


Bishop S.F. Makalani-MaHee is a Minister/Performing Artist.  He makes his home in the South Florida area.

Recently, one of my mentees was having a really difficult time at work. The circumstances around her were leaving her feeling unappreciated, overwhelmed, disappointed and ready to throw in the towel.

Several weeks went by and I patiently listened and gave advice when asked. However, as the weeks passed she grew more and more stressed. Her tone of voice and language were so tightly wound they were practically standing at attention. Finally, 2 weeks ago I said to her "I want you to try a little gratitude and throw in some blessings." She looked at me with her eyebrows raised high as I went on to explain myself further. I asked her to agree to practice gratitude and blessing for two weeks. Each day at work she had to select someone and give them a handwritten note of appreciation. She also had to speak good blessings for her workplace and all of the people who worked there. She agreed to give it a try with her parting words "We'll see..."

Over the past week and a half I didn't hear a peep about how things were going, and then on th 8th day she tells me that everything in her office magically turned around. It turns out that unbeknownst to her, the main manager who had been making her life so miserable was days away from being fired and actually came to her admitting that she could have worked harder to build a partnership on their mutual project. And, one of her projects that was in need of a strong partner received the backing of another manager and now has the participants it needs.

Best of all, she reported that the persons that she'd given the appreciation cards to stopped by her office on the following day to tell her that the cards really meant a lot to them. She thanked me and called the exercise/challenge "Good stuff!"

It’s hard to believe that it has been seven months since I wrote the “Recession Lesson” (to see part I, click here). Since then, everything (and nothing) has changed. My life is still on a precarious slope threatening to plunge, but there have been many beacons of light along the way.

I’m officially a writer now. In July, I started my own blog, “The Musings of T.C. Galltin”, where I share my thoughts, my writing, my life. Of course every blogger wants to reach millions. I haven’t achieved that level of fame, but I’m satisfied with the supportive people who drop by to share a slice of my life with me.

In October, after months of patiently waiting, my novel Zaire's Place was finally published. As I fingered my author copy, I shed a tear. You cannot begin to imagine what it’s like to hold your dream in your hands. After years of hoping and praying that I would find a publisher, my dream came to fruition and I was able to see the fruit of a long struggle.

While one dream was coming to pass, my home life was falling apart. My mother was suffering from lung cancer. At first, she got better and the doctors told us the cancer was in remission. The whole family celebrated, laughed, and cried, all while thanking God that my mother was going to get a chance to see her grandchildren get older. Then, in September, she took a turn for the worse and had to go to a nursing home because my family couldn’t care for her.

Sometimes, I can be the master of denial. I went on with my life as I stayed under my mother’s roof…went on promoting my book, taking care of my daughter, etc. “Nothing’s going to happen to Mama,” I thought. “She beat the disease before; she’ll beat it again.”

While she was gone, the family continued to fall apart. My siblings and I engaged in wars under my mom’s roof. My brother vandalized my car. My sister and her daughter beat me up. The list goes on. There’s nothing worse than grown adults fist-fighting. Nothing. It’s the basest thing “adults” can do. And it’s the last thing I wanted to do, but I had to defend myself.

Anyway, I continued to be in denial about my mom until a phone call shattered my wall of self-denial. At the end of November, my sister called to tell me that our mom was dead. Nothing can ever prepare you for losing a parent. To realize that your beginning has ended…to realize that the person who created you is gone…has got to be the most painful thing a human being can ever experience. Of course, losing the person you gave birth to has to be right up there with losing a parent. Hopefully, I won’t ever have to experience that. I pray everyday that I’m around to see my daughter get older.

I have made a modicum of peace with my mother’s death (as much as you can in a month of grieving). I know that she is here with us. Death is never final. Every time a light flickers, I think she’s near, letting my baby girl and me know that she’s watching over us. Every time I hear her favorite song, I know she’s near protecting us. As they say, “she’s gone but not forgotten.”

Eventually, I did manage to get financial help from Social Services. We even found out key details about my daughter’s father and it won’t be long before we catch up to him. I can’t wait until the day when I face him in court for child support.

I have grown more in love with my daughter everyday. Since I’m not close to my family and lost my mother, my daughter is all I have. She’s my blessing. When God sent her to me, He knew what He was doing, because after all that I’ve been through, I don’t think I would have been able to keep going if she wasn’t here.

I’m still being schooled by the recession…a personal recession that I’m patiently waiting to see the end of. With the death of my mom, my housing situation is very much up in the air. I have lost so much, but I know that with every loss, something is gained. Bad times don’t last forever and “it’s always darkest before the dawn”. I will come out of this recession stronger than I ever thought I could be and you will, too. You’ll see.

T.C. Galltin is the mother of one, a blogger and the author of Zaire's Place , a novel that explores the lives of three very different women at a domestic violence shelter in Baltimore, MD. Zaire’s Place is available in paperback, Kindle and Nook formats from Amazon and Barnes & Noble. To find out more about T.C., visit her websites at www.tcgalltin.com and www.themusingsoftc.blogspot.com. 

I've been reading a lot these days about polyamory. The theory itself is pretty convincing and so are the arguments against the heteopatriarchal myth of marriage:

"For instance, we may be in a relationship we are super into, but then want to have an experience outside that relationship with someone who shares a characteristic with us that our partner doesn't, whether that be race, language, age, class background, ability, trans identity, or something else. Our radical politics tell us we don't have to pretend that those things don't matter, and that we can honor the different connections we get to have we get to have with people based on shared or different identities. If we love our partners and friends, it makes sense that we would want them to have experiences that are affirming or important for them in those ways, and not let rules of sexual exclusivity make us into barriers for each other's personal development (For Lovers and Fighters, Dean Spade)."

Malaka is an anti-sexual violence activist. She is in the process of starting a community organization, Youth Institute for Anti-Sexual Violence Activism. She was born in Los Angeles but wants to move to San Francisco ASAP. Read more from Malaka at her blog, Hip Hop Cheerleader.

For once let’s examine this issue outside of the celebrity realm and put it into a cultural perspective. It is only in black culture where women are unfairly labeled golddigger for expecting a man to be the provider. How dare a black woman have the same requirements women of other races traditionally live by?

I’m not talking about women who purposely only seek out ballers so they can live a life of luxury just because they are beautiful with a banging body and an expensive weave. I’m referring to the average black woman who believes in courtship and prefers her future husband to be financially secure, but society falsely accuses her of digging for gold.

Time and time again black women are told by other black women and men to lower their standards. Expecting a man to have financial security is almost as bad as wanting a man who dare I say, reads. Hill Harper expressed this philosophy best in the ABC Nightline Face Off segment where he shared the story of Michelle Obama seeing the potential in Barack. “That is dating potential,” Harper said.

Author/Activist/Journalist/Producer Pearl Jr. in her 2007 article “The Gold Digger Lie Leads to Black Male Failure” wrote:

“Labeling the Black woman as a gold digger has serious consequences that demote innate motivating factors for Black men to achieve and acquire. The gold digger lie is a deliberate distortion of gender roles and is another method to destroy Black love, which inevitably leads to Black male failure, and that is directly tied to Black race malfunctions.”

You see in today's time, Black men are confused as to their role in relationships. The Black man wants to acquire all that life has to give, but isn’t being motivated properly due to the promotion of the Strong Black Women, who can do everything by herself, which simply makes the Black man (eventually) feel inadequate and be a failure at doing what nature built him to do…

Tell Black men to spend every dollar he earns on meaningless items and White women, and he'll do that each and every chance he gets. Meanwhile, tell him if he spends one penny on a Black woman he is a fool and she is a gold digger, and he'll believe that even though there are no massive amounts of Black women living well from some Black man's money.

Most Black women live in the ghetto. Most White women live in big houses and are unemployed. I mean damn are they seeing the reality of life or believing the hype?Believing the hype about the Black gold digger simply stops the recycling of Black dollars and puts the money right back into the mans hands.”

Pearl Jr. is indeed making a gigantic leap from A to Z. However, there is some truth in her theory. Pearl goes on to explain that there are those black women who are living lavishly off some black man’s money, but the percentage is most likely five percent. Meaning 95 percent of black women are working, providing for themselves or contributing to the finances of their household.

“In reality, we Black women are the ONLY women that accept, love, give to, and have sex with men that have nothing. The proof is all around us. The single Black mother living in the ghetto is the woman that accepts Black men unconditionally.”

Pearl’s observation of black women being the only women who accept a black man for anything, yet have nothing in return, leads to the idea of this being a cultural issue exclusive only to blacks.

In accessing the golddigger phenomenon as a cultural issue I interviewed people of Asian, Indian, white, Hispanic and European descent.

Stuart McDonald, a white male, had this to say:

“Why do black women get such a bad rap for having standards? It seems as if they're almost expected to settle for whatever black man they can get (or go get them a white or Latino or Asian man). Having standards are a good thing; it's the having of baseless, hypocritical standards that are unhealthy.”

Riya Anandwala from Mumbai, India weighed in:

“From the standpoint of the Indian tradition, a family, even today, would want a very well-settled man for their daughter. The definition of well settled may differ from caste to caste, but the man has to earn well enough to feed the wife. To be entirely honest with you, my mother wants a guy who is well settled, earns a good salary, has securities such as a house, good savings. She will never let me get married to [a] man who doesn't earn "good enough." And I totally agree with her, because I want the same things. Now does that make me or my mother a gold-digger? No. This attitude of Indian parents and even children dates back to the old tradition of man being the head of the family.

They depend on their husband's salary, because that's the way it works. A lot of these women who want a good salaried guy also hail from a wealthy or upper middle-class family. But even if the woman's family is not that settled, they would want a guy better than what they are.”

German Vigil, a Latino male from El Salvador added:

“Black women are demonized as such “gold diggers” because of the materialistic needs that are imposed to them through the media. If you are good looking and have a great body like the video women then you should date a man that is a baller. Now the problem lies with black women, because they make it obvious that they are only with guys for money.

In my culture it is very necessary to provide for your family. It is the man’s sole responsibility. It is what creates him the head of the household. Ask yourself what woman does not want a man that can or have the means to take care of them. If you as a woman think you are so independent, would you date a man without a job or goals? But that’s another issue…”

So either we’re golddiggers or too independent. Got it.

Napoleon Harris (yes, that’s his real name), a black male chimed in:

“Brothers may very well be suffering from some Willie lynch shit, and for that reason be unconsciously drawn to other races. As a result sisters get unfair flack for trying to marry up. Also, some brothers may feel slighted if he isn't up enough for the sister to desire him. It is then that the self-hate may kick in and say well to hell with you any way... you gold digger. Whereas when an Indian woman or an Oriental woman or even a white woman does the same thing he feels like he just wasn't her cup of tea.”

Linshan Li from China added:

“Most Chinese women are under a lot of economic pressures and they are looking for a man who can provide them with some semblance of financial security. That does not equal to "material girl" who has insatiable desire for diamonds or Louis Vuitton purses, who treats her husband as a walking ATM machine. They do want to "dig" some "gold" from their future husbands, but only hoping to make sure that they'll have a decent life, that means to have enough money to buy a roof over their heads and enjoy some pleasures of life, to have enough money for their future child's education and their health care and retirement. It is common that a Chinese man has to provide a house/condo/apartment for the marriage before the girl he wants to marry says yes.”

Andrew Anderson from Sheffield, England shared his view on the topic:

“The idea of a woman marrying a man for money is fairly common, moreso than the idea of a man marrying a woman for the same reason (toy boy/kept man). The most famous example I can think of is Anna Nicole Smith, or Debbie Daniels in England. I can't say it is associated with race in England.

The concept of a woman marrying for money is far more prevalent, and I don't think it is viewed in a negative light. Marriage is traditionally seen as the coming together of two people who will be greater than the sum of their parts, rather than as something you do for love - love grows out of it, or at least respect.

If someone had come up to me in the street and said "which group do you most associate with gold-digging?" I would have said white, middle class women...or Jewish women.”

There you have it. Our men are the only ones who buy into the idea that if a man pays for a $30 spa treatment he is “tricking” and she is a golddigger for even asking for such pleasantries. Granted a spa is not a necessity, but it seems black folks are the only ones subscribing to the concept of women being a golddigger for wanting anything that causes a man to pull out his wallet.

Both black men and women have to deprogram our mentalities from all of the bull we’ve been taught that promotes the white hierarchy. The golddigger phenomenon may seem harmless, but it has tremendous affects on the way we view one another.

Why are black women typically labeled as golddiggers more than any other race of women? What is the difference between what Riya from Mumbai described or what Tanisha from the Bronx expects? How do we move past all the labels and reignite healthy black relationships?

- Bene Viera

 In 2012, it is time to pull the boxing gloves on for the full and final round of the thick versus fat fight debate. Since joining the Twitter community in early 2011, I have been witnessing women of all shapes, sizes, and frames, battling it out about what each term means and how it should be applied based on a woman's proportions.

According to most tweople that I've witnessed battling back and forth about it, Nicki Minaj is considered thick and shapely while Mo'Nique and Gabourey Sidibe live on the other end of the spectrum -- fat and unattractive. Though these debates have been entertaining to read and comment on, for the life of me, I can't figure out who established themselves as the judge of thickness compared to fatness or WHY it matters!

As a full figured woman who happens to be amazingly gorgeous (if I do say so myself), I am offended at the thought that the measure of my beauty is based upon my the length of my waist and the relation between my waist size and hip span. In the "Barbie" era where physical appearance is more cherished than intelligence, I have grown tired of women being judged based on what they have to offer physically rather than what matters in the long haul -- fortitude, intellect, dedication, and love.

I'm often referred to as thick and if I were paid $5 for every time I've heard the overused line, "You're not that fat girl. You're solid," I would be a millionaire thrice over by now. Granted, I am very -- for lack of a better word -- solid. I am proportioned well and thanks to the power of my beloved girdles (which I encourage all plus-sized divas to invest in), when I am gliding down the street, my rolls aren't busting all over the place. This can also be attributed to the fact that I buy clothes that actually fit well and accentuate my greatest physical assets. However, I digress.

Being referred to as thick and/or fat doesn't bother me because I embrace who I am. When I look in the morning every morning and tell myself, "Evette, you are beautiful. You are worthy of all great things. I love you," I see a gorgeous woman not defined by her weight or society's expectations of how I "should" look. I realize all that I have to offer the world and I invest in those qualities rather than the superficial characteristics that our society seems to cherish. When men -- even boyfriends -- drool in front of the television while Melyssa Ford and other video models bounce their breasts in music videos, I am not bothered by it because I've never been shunned or devoid of love because my stomach is almost as large as my behind.

What bothers me most about the comparison between "thick" and "fat" is where this ideal stems from and how it is beginning to define women and their value as it did the Hottentot Venus, an African woman who was put on display because her large bottom and long labia were appealing to European men. Women have more to offer the world than their curves and it's about time we embraced that instead of arguing over Twitter about the differences between Mo'Nique and Nicki Minaj.

Besides, there is fine line between being thick and fat. In fact, thick and fat can co-exist together. Now, don’t twist this concept. I realize that Melyssa Ford’s “ideal” proportions can never be compared to my 40-40 something-40 something measurements. I might be a tad bit outrageous, but I am far from pyschotic (thanks Mama Jones!) All I’m saying is that it is possible for a woman to be over the ideal weight and still be considered “thick.”

I’m well into the 180/200-pound range and I’m still hearing the “You are not fat. You’re just solid” speech, so who determines the difference between thick and fat again? The moral of this blog post is, never allow your value to be determined by society’s labels. Whether you are thick, fat, obese, or whatever other title has been placed on you to define your weight, don’t let those labels define YOU!

Evette Dionne is a senior attending Bennett College in Greensboro, North Carolina. Her writings focus on issues relevant to full figured women, such as the economics of plus-sized fashion and self-esteem. She is the editor-in-chief of BELLE, Bennett's student magazine and a contributor for BettyConfidential.com, HBCU Buzz, Full Figured News and Urban Cusp. Check out her blog (www.lifefashioncurves.blogspot.com) and follow her on Twitter (@LuvEvetteDionne)

Once you start changing your thoughts to believe there is enough love and success to go around in this world, your realities will change drastically. I've been working on this for a long time, and like any other change, this can't happen overnight. When I think back, however, I realize that I've changed drastically. Even as a "positive person", most of my thoughts were centered on lack. We can change this pattern if we make up our minds to do so. In order to become rich, abundance must first be an experience in our minds.

1. Start and end the day with gratitude. Many of us were raised to pray daily. But how were we taught to pray? I can remember always praying for things. I would give thanks, but I was always praying for God to intervene and fix something. However you choose to center yourself and connect with Spirit, whether it's prayer or other methods, be sure to focus your energy on gratitude for everything that is going on in your life. Be thankful for the awareness that everything that happens is natural and beneficial. Pray for strength and peace no matter what situations evolve.

2. Manage jealousy and competitiveness. There is enough love to go around. I think I should say that again - there is enough love to go around. Instead of feeling jealous of someone else's success, be motivated by it. Convert any negative energy into positive energy by giving compliments and supporting those who are doing what you want to do. If you are waiting to meet that special someone, and it seems that everyone around you is coupling up and getting married, don't let those yucky feeling get the best of you. Be patient and faithful, believing that this is just one aspect of your life and the best thing you can do to attract someone special to work on yourself. Jealousy will create bitterness inside of you, which won't attract anything good!

3. Trust that you have all the money you need. This is a tough one. We all want more money, don't we? Until we learn to manage and appreciate what we have, we will not successfuly gain and MAINTAIN more. I've struggled with money management for most of my adult life, and have just started cleaning things up in the last couple years. I would spend money as if it was literally going to run away from me if I didn't hurry up and spend it. This comes from a mentality focused on lack. When we adopt a mentality of abundance, we always have enough and we create the space to have more. Try it and see for yourself.

4. Make your dream your most habitual thought. Instead of your thoughts centering around unpaid bills, loneliness, an unfulfilling job - think about the life that you want. Think about it all the time. See it. Dream it. Feel it. Imagine how it will feel to make your dreams become reality. You may not know how it will happen exactly, but you should spend ample time thinking about why this is the life you want to lead and use these thoughts as motivation. Take steps in the right direction and don't give up. This is the determined path of winners - they work through their fear of failure and believe in their dreams religiously.

5. Learn to be a giver. Even when you think that you have nothing left, give. Whether it's your time, a kind word, or a sympathetic ear. Learning to give will set you up to be ready and worthy to receive. When we cling to ourselves and our things, we are once again embracing the idea of lack. Don't listen to the messages that dominate this world and tell us that there is not enough and we must cling to our own. When we give our time and our energy to each other, we create a cycle of generosity that gets bigger and bigger as more of us adopt this philosophy. When you think of yourself as rich, and you give as though you were rich, you will receive in kind.

GG Renee is a writer, consultant, and advocate for the success and emotional well-being of the modern woman.  She infuses the concepts of self-love and personal development into everything she writes.  Based in the Washington DC area, she does relationship management for a financial services company by day; while her free time is filled with writing, networking and pursuing everything her heart desires.  She believes it is her calling to be a persistent voice that speaks joy back into the hearts of women.  GG is one half of the duo behind the happiness blog, Peace Love and Pretty Things.  She also shares her personal journey of transformation on her blog, The Write Curl Diary.

The seeds of my feminism were planted early. Women predominate my childhood memories. And not just any women: strong, Black women. Sisters who did it for themselves. The kind of women Lil Boosie writes songs about (I-N-D-E-P-E-N-D-E-N-T). These women instilled in me the value of self-sufficiency and hard work.  They taught me what it meant to navigate the world as a Black woman in a racist, sexist society.

Recently I was asked a question in light of the new year, "What can Black women do to be more womanly?" I thought for a second because truthfully the question sounded kind of strange. I'm not a fashion expert nor do I dabble in makeup artistry so my advice wasn't going to dwell on those points. Then it hit me like a Mac truck. (Get it? Mac? No? Okay.) The one thing Black women can do to be better in general is to be themselves.

Now hold on. This isn't going to be corny, I swear. As many people have already complained, everyone wants to be a barbie now. With the newly found fame of Nicki Minaj, young Black women seem to have found a new leader and model for success. Because of her nicknames of Nicki Minaj and Nicki the Harajuku Barbie, there has been a massive surge of name changes across the world.

No, the DMV[1] hasn't been ambushed, I'm talking about on social networking sites. Those with Facebooks, MySpaces, or Twitters can attest to this. How many Jane Minaj's do you know? How many people do you follow with the word 'Barbie' in their name? That's not to say that men aren't being equally as insane with the Joseph WakaFlaka Smiths' out there. But this is focused on the women. I say all that to say, my answer to that question was be yourself because we can't be feeding into the gross stereotypes of the past. What stereotypes are those you ask?

Patricia Hill-Collins wrote about the four main stereotypes or controlling images for Black women. These stereotypes are the Mammy, the Matriarch, the Welfare Mother, and finally the Jezebel or the Whore. According to Hill-Collins, these are images that were used to oppress black women. According to Hazel Carby, these images are used "not to reflect or represent a reality but to function as a disguise, or mystification, of objective social relations."

 In other words, they don't reflect the true nature of Black women and simply classify them, it instead makes it appear as though these are the only types of Black women out there. Hill-Collins goes on to say, "The dominant ideology of the slave era fostered the creation of four interrelated, socially constructed controlling images of Black womanhood, each reflecting the dominant group's interest in maintaining Black women's subordination." So these images are meant to keep Black women down. They weren't meant to empower in any way and still to this day do not empower. While there are four images, I will describe all four but focus on two for the sake of succinctness and relevance to the "be true to yourself" answer I gave.

Mammy

Traditionally, the mammy was the Black mother figure in white homes. "The faithful, obedient domestic servant... represents the normative yardstick used to evaluate all Black women’s behavior. By loving, nurturing, and caring for her white children and ‘family’ better than her own, the mammy symbolizes the dominant group’s perceptions of the ideal Black female relationship to elite white male power. Even though she may be well loved and may wield considerable authority in her white ‘family,’ the mammy still knows her ‘place’ as obedient servant. She has accepted her subordination."

While this doesn't address the wannabe Barbies out there, this is still true for older women. We're told to take care of others before ourselves.

Matriarch

"The Black mother figure in Black homes... the “bad” Black mother... fail their traditional “womanly” duties. Spending too much time away from home, these working mothers ostensibly cannot properly supervise their children and are a major contributing factor to their children’s school failure. As overly aggressive, unfeminine women, Black matriarchs allegedly emasculate their lovers and husbands. These men, understandably, either desert their partner or refuse to marry the mothers of their children. Elite white men see her as the failed mammy. The source of the matriarch’s failure is her inability to model appropriate gender behavior."

The Matriarch is also doomed to failure (in the eyes of society) because she is solely responsible for her children's success and when they fail, she fails. This is a problem because if Black women are told they must choose between these four images this is the one most people are going to opt for. Black women have to face a lot of obstacles and because of this, some have developed a tough shell. The problem with that is she then comes off as a strong, insensitive b-word that rhymes with witch, if I may.

She is then scorned for not being cordial and political in corporate America even though she is behaving like everyone else. And she is even judged by Black men because the Matriarch often times refuses to let others help her and has that "pull yourself up by your bootstrap" mentality that many claim the poor should have but when it is actually instilled it is a turn off. She won't let a man help her which emasculates him and makes him have no value in that relationship.

Welfare Mother

"African-Americans can be racially stereotyped as being lazy by blaming Black welfare mothers for failing to pass on the work ethic. Moreover, the welfare mother has no male authority figure to assist her. Typically portrayed as an unwed mother..."

The image of the unwed Black women who is lazy and sucks up welfare is not uncommon in film, TV, and other media.

The Jezebel

"Whore, sexually aggressive woman... central in this nexus of elite white male images of Black womanhood because efforts to control Black women’s sexuality lie at the heart of Black women’s oppression... Provides a rationale for the widespread sexual assaults by white men typically reported by Black slave women."

The image of the sexually aggressive woman was one that was started to justify rape and the ownership of slave children as property. After all, what emotional worth is one slave baby if a Black woman loves sex anyway and is just going to pop out more? This image strikes home to me the most because so often in the days of Lil Kim and Nicki Minaj and other sexually explicit[2] female rappers women have chosen to take on this persona as, "I'm going to be as forthcoming and outright as men are when it comes to discussing sex." While they are fighting to be equal and overcome the sexual double standard, they instead reinforce an age-old stereotype and inadvertently oppress themselves. Nobody takes them seriously in the workplace nor in a relationship.

I guess the long version of my answer is not only to be yourself, but also to know who you are, and know what others expect of you as well. Now that we all know these controlling images that we can so often feed into, we can fight the stereotype. Do you think these stereotypes still exist? Are they a driving force in many movies, TV shows, and other media? If you had to answer the question of what can Black women do to be more womanly what would you have said?

P.S. If you type in "black women" into Google the second entry is "Jezebel Stereotype". Interesting.

[1] I think that's the first time I used the acronym DMV to mean Department of Motor Vehicles instead of DC, MD, and VA.

[2] This isn't a debate on the merit of female rappers who rap equally as sexually explicit as their male counterparts. That is a discussion that cannot be covered in a quick and sweeping sentence.

Dear Ashlee, Daniel, and Adam:

I love each of you. You each bring me immeasurable joy. You each have traits that shock and amaze me. Ashlee, your ability to “cut through the crap” will serve you well as you grow into womanhood. Daniel, you are kind, loving, and sensitive. These traits will make you an incredible father. Adam, your fearlessness scares me and makes me jealous that I’m not as fearless as you. As your birthdays roll around this year, I wanted to let you all know I am glad that I am your Mom.

I got to spend my birthday with MeMaw. I knew on that day it would be the last time I would ever see her on my birthday. I was filled with pain and sorrow and joy. Grandma Ella was special to each of you, as she was to me. If you put her life in perspective, she was an extraordinary woman. She was the three worst things a person could be in Alabama when she was born in 1941: poor, black, and female.

She taught me some very valuable lessons about life and love. I want to share some of them with you: 

Never say no to love. Love comes in so many different forms. Grandma never flaunted her romantic relationships for the world to see, but she never hid the fact that she loved her children and her grandchildren with great abandon. She never rejected people for being gay or white or rich or poor or crazy. She always had a plate to feed hungry people. She always found a dollar to give, even when she didn’t have enough for herself. She loved everybody. She treated every single person like they were a child of God. Approach every aspect of your life with love. Sometimes people may hurt you, but often times they won’t. I’m not saying put yourself in a situation where you can physically or emotionally be hurt. There are times, too, when you must love someone enough to walk away.

Never think you are alone. I am here for you. If I can give it to you, I will. If I can’t, I will do everything in my power to help. Mama opened her doors to me, and let me come home when things got really awful for me. She never made me feel bad. She never made me feel like I had to beg or be ashamed. As your Mama, please know, you can always come home to me. You are not alone.

Never underestimate the power of prayer. Mama walked a groove in the floor in our apartment on Edgemont. She would walk and pray. We came to Montgomery with literally the clothes on our back. She prayed that God would bless her with nice dresses to wear to church. She had one dress when we came to Montgomery. She wore it every Sunday for 4 months. When she died, she had three closets filled with beautiful dresses, hats, shoes, and purses. She always believed in looking good to go see Jesus. She prayed to see each of her children graduate; we did. She prayed that we always had a roof over our heads and food in our bellies; we did. She prayed that we would have happy marriages and happy children… sometimes things don’t work out, but Miss Ella wanted the best for us all.

Never pass on a chance to laugh. Mama loved to laugh. She loved to make people laugh. She never let anything stop her from finding the humor in everything. Her favorite comedy bit of all time was that crazy parody video “We Miss Robert” by Ricky Smiley. She told me to see if I could find a spinning rim to put in her casket like they did in that video. She was dying, but able to find something funny. We must have laughed at 100 things over those 4 days. We laughed about 3 year old Ashlee going to my college graduation in a fancy dress and no underwear. We laughed about Daniel singing and dancing to his favorite song “Satisfaction” by the Rolling Stones. We laughed about both the boys trying to put a stop to me and their Daddy getting married. We laughed that Adam told her on the phone, “Look, MeMaw, I’m busy. I can’t talk to you.” She thought that was hysterical. When I look back on the time I spent with her right before she died, I will always remember the laughter. Her favorite old school saying was, “Sometimes you have to laugh to keep from crying.” She was right. So laugh, kids.

Your Grandmother was an amazing woman. She raised 4 kids of her own and 6 that were not hers. She loved music. She baked the best sweet potato pie and pound cake you ever put in your mouth. She’d whip your butt if you needed it. She’d hug you and wipe away your tears, if you needed it. She made us all feel like we were special. She was proud of each of us for different reasons.

When I close my eyes, I can see each of your little faces looking up at me the first time I held you. Each time, I thought my heart would burst from the love. Your Grandma Ella was there for each of your births. Ashlee, the way you took care of Mama during her cancer and while she was dying was a very heroic act. You were there the day she died. One day, I will die. I hope on that day, you will each be able to say what I say about my Mama: “She did the best she could with what she had, and I know more than anything; that lady loved me.”

 Happy Birthday, Babies!

Tangela Ekhoff is a wife, mom, stand up comic from Oklahoma. She holds a B.S. and M.Ed. from Auburn University. Tangela has worked as a teacher, publicist, and during the Great Recession, a maid. She wrote and produced a one woman show based on her experiences called "The Recession Maid Me Do It." She writes about her experiences in motherhood and comedy on her blog Homegirl on the Range. She has been featured in Woman's Day Magazine and the Tulsa World.

Photo Credit: Tangela Ekhoff