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Five-Two-Three
Lauren R.D. Fox for the CHAS Women Of Color Conference, Short Story Submission
I got lost on my way here.
I went to the wrong place because as a New Yorker, I donât read building numbers. I show up.
And, now that the television light pours over your body, Iâm not sure how I even trusted myself to be rubbing your bottom lip in between my two lips. You see, Iâm not supposed to be here, or at least, thatâs what I tell myself.
Before this night, I stuck to the script. It said it will take me to the place Iâve been meaning to go to. But after tonight, Iâm not so sure I can abide by it anymore. You see, its writers are moving on.
Theyâre looking into retirement homes, condos with their boyfriends and even changed their phone numbers. I no longer know them like how I used to and somehow in between the DMs, phone calls and you telling me how you planned to mess up my lipstick, I know you. I know this script. Shit, we created it, by me consenting to take a chance on myself, then you and maybe on this; all in the name of friction and pink matter.
And although this fuck may only last one night, your elevator kiss made me realize you donât require the same amount of details I need, to find your way. You show up, even without needing a building number.
Old Boyfriends
What happens to old boyfriends? Do they shrivel up and become someone elseâs love? Will they taste better after you licked all their expensive cologne off of their necks? What happens to the space you two used to occupy? What happens to old boyfriends? Do they take different trains? Will you try to duck and dodge them on the 4 train and accidentally dig your six-inch heel into anotherâs passengerâs foot; only because your panic was urgent and deep?
What happens to old boyfriends? What happens to the girls they slept with before you? Do they get married to the love of their lives? Only to give you a sense of relief -you and she were not the women for him? Because no one could be it, even if they cried, ride or tried.
What happens to old boyfriends? What happens to the questions you used to ask him as you lied on his bed, wrapped in his Bounce laced sheets? Do you remember those questions when you walk down the detergent aisle, hurriedly, because you donât want any recollections of what used to happen in that bed, in that time, in that year?
What happens to old boyfriends? Do they shrivel up and become someone elseâs joke? Will his good humor and charm caress anotherâs funny bone? Will he receive text messages not sent to him from you, but by your friends? Remember you were too drunk to care and unavailable to put an end to an end.
What happens to old boyfriends? What happens to their mothers? You know, the women you used to place in your daydreams. She would take care of your children while you two went on date night and randomly fucked in a place that will remain anonymous because you want to keep your love interesting, a mystery even. And in your daydream you will return home, looking polished. It was as though you didnât disrespect her son with your Jezebel needs. You would daydream dipping your hand in the pot of curry chicken she made, silently praising the Most High you will not have to cook for the week. What happens to their mothers? The ones you liked. The ones you loved. The ones you didnât want to know because you loved their sons seasonally. What happens?
What happens to old boyfriends? Do they shrivel up and become a distant memory? What happens to them when you find yourself in the backseat of his parentsâ car, topless? What happens to them as you nuzzle your lips into his forehead and high-top fade? What happens when his kisses feel personal; itâs your first time, for the thirtieth time. What happens to old boyfriends when he makes you feel enthralled? What happens to them when he makes you scream ecstasies in another realm for the eleventh time? What happens when every day is Christmas morning and nothing is short of joy-filled semaphores?
What happens to old boyfriends? What happens to the ones who told you, repeatedly, how good your hair was? They were happy to have you. Happy to have you dark enough, to be pretty and pretty enough, to be dark -but your hair; Girl, your hair! The kids would have your hair, they told you. The kids would have your smile, they told you. The kids would have you, they told you.
What happens to old boyfriends? What happens when you find yourself no longer selling your body to buy his dream? What happens when you find yourself in front of your house, sitting on the stoop listening to his catalyst of urges? Urges for life and not your clitoris? Urges of waiting to see you inside, until you close the door after a night of feeling like teenagers; what happens to old boyfriends when they no longer have any peace of you.
What happens to old boyfriends when your arms are wrapped around his neck and vulnerability straddles every bit of trust he has for you. What happens to old boyfriends when youâve made it home?
A Letter between Roy and Roiann.
February 14, 2013
Dear Daddy!
First and foremost, I love you. I do not say this to you enough and I know if I am dating around and connecting with different men, I Â first have to say with a genuine heart âI love youâ to my father before I say it to the man I choose to give my heart to.
I want to say thank you for teaching me about men. Real men. Men who give nothing but their whole selves but only in few words; Because of you I have learned to watch the silent movies around me. You can tell so much about a man by the way he moves. You can understand his heartâs intention by the way the bass in his voice can be stable or quiver.
Thank you for showing me how a man dresses. A man who exudes confidence does not have to do too much. He does not prance around his masculinity in his clothes and he never has to hear from people how cool he is. He knows it. He owns it. He leaves people in awe.
Thank you for showing me I am of worth. You have always gone above and beyond for me even if I did not like your execution. You have exposed me to the finer things in life while showing me to carry humility in my purse. You taught me not to base my agency on the pockets of a man or the lip service he may usher into my ears. I will never forget when you told me at thirteen to always let a man, be a man. Go with the natural order of things and most importantly, never nag. Nagging is a sin in the Bible of Man.
I have learned from you, forgiveness is key and keeping score is not. Men make mistakes; they will want to wander only to find home again. I have observed you and the uncles- men want to play. Men want to pack light. Men want to be kept safe while thinking they are the protectors, because they are but sometimes it would be nice if they can just let down their guard. Men will do things in their own time. A man will think before he acts, when he cares. A man will order his steps before the world orders it for him.
Thank you for your lectures about risk management. Thank you for being you and crafting my healthy perception of a real man and not the one Disney wants me to believe in. It has been a riveting 23 œ years being your daughter. You have ultimately prepared me to go deeper with men and never stay on their surface. I will never apologize for not accepting the novels they push because we both know the truth is what moves us from one step to the next. Thank you for allowing me to understand you as a man before I understood your role as a father or husband. I will be sure to do the same for my significant other, when the time comes.
Love,
Lauren Roiann Daniella
LRD's article on building stamina in today's workforce.
"In a generation where doing ânothingâ is unacceptable, Millennial women can be found shifting themselves into overdrive; leaving no room on their iCal or Google Calendar for personal development. Life Coach Gabrielle Bernstein knows that precarious tale too well. She became the founder of a Public Relations firm in New York City after she graduated from Syracuse University in 2001. Her firm was based on promoting the cityâs trendy night scene; by the age of 25, Bernstein stated she was âaddicted to work, food, love and drugs.â Most young women can relate to this; the journey to finding the perfect coping mechanisms to go with their fabulous professions and lifestyles generally leaves them feeling burnt out."
Click post header to read more*
LRD's article on what she learned when she moved back to BK.
"Graduating from college gave me more than a degree. It shifted who I was as a woman, completely. As the one year anniversary of kissing the ivy-coated buildings, textbooks and house parties goodbye, I reminisced on the life gems I have discovered thus far. Here are ten lessons to keep in your pocket as you strut into the real world."
Click the post header to read more*
Sexism: The Date between the Lady and Hate
There is no stopping them- women can be found climbing corporate ladders as though they are the latest Olympic sport. As they stack titles and achieve awards, it can be noted there is a lack of support among women. Author Valerie Young of The Secret Thoughts of Successful Women believes âWomen are being judged more, even by other womenâ in the career arena. In that same sector, men are observed to have privilege when exhibiting certain personality traits. Women unfortunately to do not have the same access and are often pigeon-holed into negative stereotypes.
 According to psychologist Richard Sternberg- creator of the triangular theory of love, hate is the negation of intimacy, passion and commitment. It is usually driven by the stories people create about the target. Because hate is a combination of emotions, the âhaterâ involves personal past experiences to further evolve their hatred. These emotions can be noted as: disgust, fear, anger and despair. Eran Halperin, a student at the Lauder School of Government reviewed Sternbergâs theory as: âThe unique aspect of hate is that it targets a concrete object or group and is driven by the judgment that the hated person or group is evil by nature and will never change its negative waysâ. The questions that flirts with the devilâs advocate are: what if the hated group never exhibited signs of negativity? Is it possible to hate without a cause? Halperin believes the hated group is perceived by their haters as those who take away resources. If haters feel their lack is caused by the hated individual/group, they are driven to increase their own appearance of doing well while using propaganda to cause the hated groupâs downfall.
 Oprahâs Lifeclass with Iyanla Vanzant, The Terrible Things Women do to Each Other noted women hurt one another through unhealthy competition. For example, if there was a blessing box and a woman receives something from it, other women may believe there will not be enough left in the box for them. This type of conditioning has hindered women in their thinking and relationships with those of their gender.Â
 When asked: Why do women hate each other? A group of 20-something female professionals responded: âA woman who hates on others hates herselfâ and âTo be hated on means to be greatâ. Fashion Columnist/Stylist, Mathe Kamsutchom stated: âMen create a competitive space for women. We are trained to see one another as targets because of the context of the world we live in (which is widely shaped by men). There are not enough of us in positions of power, so we compete for them, men don't see one another as a threat to success. Men have spaces and avenues to connect with one another that are specifically designed to network where as women don't. Women have style guides and Pinterest-spaces in which we are constant comparing are selves to the lives of other women and longing for something we don't have. That longing is sadly what bonds women together a lot of the time. Men don't have that; they think they have it all.â
 The male respondents believe: âI think the hate cycle for men is what is different. If I'm going to hate a man I have to get to at least have a conversation with him. I think women can start off not liking a woman at first sight. They can observe that woman without talking to her and build their case for hate. They can hear a story about that woman from another party that is consistent with their hate.â; âI think we have a respect for one another, whether it is accomplishments or merely getting something done, it is a mutual respect I believe.â
For women, the journey of understanding hate is neither black nor white; it is the gray they must dive into. The gray consists of maturity, measuring sticks and if women are willing to break the glass ceilingâs ceiling.
Undressing Myself in Honesty
This summer was like a hit and quit. It slowly came in, engulfed me in all its glory and quickly left before I could roll over and kiss it good morning. It taught me how human I can be or how far removed I wanted to be from myself. It taught me to undress myself in honesty.
 Instead of writing endless details of what done-did-happen this summer, I think it would be better to start of Monah and BKâs Falling for Fall Series with some thankful insight.
 Enjoy!
I am so thankful for my sister from another, Mathe. We have come a long way in our friendship. It amazes me to know it only took a Coach bag, pepperoni/pineapple pizza and ice tea to create such a solid friendship. I appreciate how real we can be with one another; I am thankful our friendship is a safe place because Lord knows I can unload all the nonsense that bothers me. I am sensitive like no other (I blame my zodiac sign) but Mathe really handles me with care. This summer was tough- I was aware, blind, over and under involved with life. But Mathe was there to show me a lot of things ainât ish and will always end up better than you expect.
 I am thankful for coming to the point in my life where I am able to see my friends for who they are. I am thankful I am developing compassion- I can be so hard on people and their decisions but I am realizing their mind, body and life is not my own and like anyone else I do things that make people go âWhere they do that atâ- I call it risk taking, others call it wild, inappropriate, etc. I am learning to live a full life on my own terms and let others do the same. I am learning I just need to shut up. Ha!
 I am thankful for the stillness of God. I am thankful for reaching a point in my journey where I do not have to over extend myself or prove anything to anyone. Justifying anything (especially who you are) can be so taxing. I am glad to believe in a higher being that lets it be known, he is God alone and he does not need my help.
 I am thankful for my cousin Kerese and all the Hot Peppa Sauce Memes she tags me in on Facebook. She can always manage to put a smile on my face. I am happy we are not only cousins but friends.
 I am thankful for my Khadija. I am so proud of her; although we are the same age I look up to her. She is so self-sufficient and confident. Besides Jewel, she is my other life coach. I am thankful to know all her aspirations will come into fruition. I am blessed to cheer her on from the sidelines.
 I am thankful for reconnecting with my childhood friend Crystal. Besides being my very own Halle Berry (Lol), I am glad to know she is more than a pretty face. While talking about dating, she was very real about her experiences and let it be known her choices matter to her. There a lot of women who rely on whatâs in between their legs to carry them through big decisions. Letâs be real, your clitoris cannot be the reason why you stay stuck on stupid. All in all I am happy to have a friend who knows what you are in between your mind, is what you will be in between your legs. #AndinthatORDER
  I am thankful for love. Thankful to know it is circulating all around. Thankful to know I do not have to search high or low for it. Thankful to know it is near.
 I am thankful for the quiet, loud, brilliant, intimate, hilarious, questioning moments.
 I am thankful for it all.
 I am thankful to know we all will be reaping plenty this fall.
25, yourself.
Hey Girl,
 This is your 22 (about to be 23) self writing to you. You will be turning 25 soon, what have you learned? Who have you gained as a lifeline? Are your fears still the same? As you know, change is constant and works like clockwork. Here are some of my thoughts as to where you should be, with yourself.
Life- I hope you are living life on your own terms. You may listen to what is being said to you but with all due respect pay attention to details. Pay attention to what people are doing with their own lives and then assess if you need their words. Remember what Daddy taught you about risk management! It is all about what how much you want to gain or what you are willing to lose. All in all, do not lose you. You already comfortable in the skin you are in but sometimes people shake you up. Remember, you are not Orange Juice. Ha!
Career- DO IT ALL. End of story. Retire when you are eighty! Let the grind be your joy. You were created versatile for a reason. I hope at this age you will be finishing up some type of graduate school program that correlates with one of your passions.
Love- I hope you are taking your time. Be selective and conscious with your decisions. I hope whoever you are investing in at this age is funny as hell. You love that ish! Hopefully he is multifaceted so he can balance you out. Let patience be your guide; let it allow you to see him as clearly as you see God. That is how you will know, he is the real deal. Forgive, forgive and forgive some more. Donât play stupid and get involved with anyone who does victim narratives. Again, PAY ATTENTION. If you have found the one, ride it out till the wheels break off (no pun intended)âŠwhatever man you end up with, let him be a man. Do not place any timelines on your relationship. If he is the one, then there it is. If not, you know someone will be around the corner ready to say hello. You have the gift of discernment. Do not take it for granted.
God- Remember blessings come from brokenness. When you are at your lowest, that is when God is preparing you for a BIG shift. Be in a constant state of preparedness. You have not come this far for all your dreams to not come to fruition. If you do not remember a million and one biblical verses, just remember he has set aside your lot. God keeps all promises.
I would ask you more questions or give more advice but I am still trying to figure out life for myself. Leave room for surprises. Leave room for life to do its thing. Do not plan as much. Take risks. Be open. Be UNDERSTANDING. Give people second, third, fourth, fifth chances because you are not Little Miss Perfect!
Do me proud,
You
The way you balance yourself in heels, is the way you should balance yourself in a relationship. Back straight, Chest out and fully confident in being your own woman! Check out Lala G.âs article- âSingle in a Relationshipâ.
-MABK
p.s. Click the title to be directed to her refreshing thoughts on relationships.
 Title: Questions and Skin
Those who know me well know, I love me some Theophilus London. My ears hang on his words like blazers on hangers. I do not know if it is his Brooklyn boy essence that has a careful way of making me blush or understand the male gender better, but London is the professor I always wanted in college- real, articulate and straight to the point.
When I noticed via Facebook, London collaborated with Big Boi (featuring Tre Luce) in his new song, âShe Said Okâ, my whole attitude shifted to that of Christmas morning. You know the feeling; dying to open your presents but having to wait for your entire family. I immediately wanted to listen to the song, however, when I saw the commentary from ElectroLov3.com: âAny song that opens with âLet me see your tiddaysâŠâ in full harmony is amazingâ; I was not sure how to respond necessarily. Should I let my ratchet side take over and indulge? Alternatively, should I wait to see how other fans/ media circuits respond to the song?  It becomes difficult to address misogyny when youâŠlike it.
I decided to not front and listen to the track. The smooth beat laid down rhythms you want to imitate when you are at a rooftop lounge; only thing trying to keep it classy is your top priority. It would also make you think those secretive bedroom thoughts as the wind catches the chance to wrap itself around your legs and short skirt. Theophilus, Big Boi and Tre somehow transport you to the last time you were next to the person who could cut and serve the chemistry you both shared, like cake.
While listening, I thought about my friends who would automatically say âOwwwâ accompanied with shoulder rolls and huge grins. Then, I thought about my other homegirls, who would be easily offended by the blunt comical genius of the lyrics. As women we must ask ourselves, are we selective when it comes to labeling songs or artists as misogynistic? Do we suddenly become deaf when our favorite rapper builds up bars that supposedly tear down our âworthâ?
âShe Said Okâ, made me feel sexy as I walked down Flatbush Avenue as the million dollar cab drivers tried to steer me away from going underground, MTA style. As I listened to it on my phone, I felt as though I was the girl in the song riffing âOkâ.  Simply put, when I like my choices, I want to experience them. Ultimately, I would feel okay because it was my decision. That is the thing with misogyny; it magically disappears when you got and liked what you always wanted.
Maybe if I were not a fan, I would be singing a different song. If these lyrics did not trigger my uncomfortable nerves, does that mean my judgment of addressing misogyny can be put to trial? I believe what should be tried on a local, national and federal level is raising ourselves as women who are content with what we have/give. Too often insecurity slips in and we find out that we do not like what others have to say about us even if they find it in a positive light.
Would you say okay if you heard: âIâmma play that cat like it was played by SantanaâŠIâm adamant when I see something I want, I reach out and grab itâ? You already know my answer.
Monah and BK's little reminder:
Soca, Mas and other Drugs
Like a semaphore your culture was birthed through a triangular movement, precise yet abstract. Ships flowed across the Atlantic Ocean from Europe, Africa and the Americas. Your ancestors unwillingly came and had their religion, tongues and bodies tied to colonialism. They were allowed, however, to have some sense of freedom- a liberty to expose the skin on their backs and brown hues. Carnival is defined as the emancipation from oneâs flesh. This cultural celebration allows one to become in tune with their sensuous side. Ask no questions and you will hear no lies. For we know Caribbean culture likes to appear noble and its women, gracious. Caribbean women and their sexuality have had an on and off relationshipâno one wants to appear as a Jezebel. They keep their âwukkinâ upâ to themselves and pray the dancehall walls keep their secrets as they âbrace and wineâ. You can relate to this. You do not want yourself to be misinterpreted or your sexuality translated wrong.
As you examine your pedicure toes you realize your feet still hurt and back, a little sore. Your skin now has a golden hue; you smile to yourself, remembering the cutie who complimented you on it. Oh gosh! Tomorrow is Monday, the start to your busy work-filled week. Your bags are still not unpacked and all you can think of is: âanâ every fete geh de numba to me cell phoneâ. Yes, di vibes cyan done for you and neither is procrastination. Instead of unpacking and preparing for the week ahead, you go to the kitchen to warm up some leftover Saltfish and Bake from your Aunty. Carrying the food into your living room you decide to upload your Carnival pictures unto Facebook. But then you pause. You do not want any foolishness on the comments. Yuh nuh want no one asking if your mother knows if you âget on badâ or better yet, your nosy co-worker giving you the âside eyeâ. You realize American society does not understand what you and your people are made of or even stand for. They often believe Soca and Calypso to be misogynistic. Caribbean women are given the labels of weakness due to how power is constructed within their society. It is said by academics and politicians:
 âCaribbean women are vulnerable because gender inequality makes them economically dependent on men. Because they are subjected to domestic violence that reduces their ability to negotiate safer sex, and even in matriarchal societies where women head the house and provide the incomeâas is widely the case in Caribbean societyâit is still accepted that the man will sleep around, because masculine norms of aggression, control, and risk taking allow him toâ. (playingwithink.wordpress.com)
Besides the label of vulnerability it is often assumed by those outside of West Indian culture that, Caribbean women are hyper-sexualized by their own culture. American feminists who are not Caribbean often wonder if a bag has been slipped over the heads of West Indian women. Who in their right mind would be subjected to such raunchy behavior on a regular basis?
The question is: Who is allowed to deem what is of substance or not? As this question rolls around in your mind, you remember how people responded to pictures of Rihanna from last yearâs Crop Over. She was labeled as a âslutâ, âwhoreâ and some even chuckled at the idea of her crying over rape alluding to her âMan Downâ song. Although her traditional Mas costume was barely there, yours was too. Other commentary came from those of African-American and African descendants who used the necessary language that conveyed an âUs versus Themâ thematic. It was made to believe, West Indian women were the only ones within the Black race to behave in a âlewdâ nature. It was even stated that, we as women were confused. âHow can one celebrate the cultural holiday of Carnival and yet not support homosexual or reproductive rights of others?â (Clutch Magazine August 2011- âAfter Carnival, Are People Too Hard on Rihannaâ) Others proclaimed Rihannaâs participation in Carnival (Crop Over) was not a good marketing decision because she is a role model and companies would not allow her to be the âfaceâ of their products. And last but never least, there were those who believed Caribbean women should not participate in playing Mas because it was not viewed as celebrating culture but celebrating sex.
As you continue to edit your photos, making the sun beam brighter and occasionally turning your photos vintage, you wonder if it is best to keep who you really are to yourself. Or should you only give those who went on the trip permission to see the album? Though you may not be Bajan, you and Rihannaâs cultures align under the Caribbean umbrella. She could have been your sister, aunt, niece, cousin or even, you. Those insensitive comments were directed to you, whether you care or not. What does a girl do with the ethnocentric views of others?
You upload your one thousand plus pictures, carefully dividing up the albums. You do not make your albums private; you have plans for your allyuh Facebook friends to see that it was what it was. You played mas, jump and waved, celebrated your rootsâŠhalfânaked. You âwined upâ on complete strangers and enjoyed it. Why? Because your favorite Nadia Batson song played, drinks were flowing and âchippinâ down de roadâ never felt better. The icing on the cake: you felt at complete peace with your sexuality. Your curves, yuh bumpa and waist line wrote sentences and mesmerized eyes. And besides, it is about cultural control. Who is going to define you, your sexuality and culture? You should, because you help create and evolve it.