Tweet: Female Image Defined By Rap

@MichaelEaly when you gon' let me holla
— Mrizzy. ✨ (@imMaryamm) June 30, 2013

I had to repost this tweet because when I read it, I could not stop laughing.

I hope MichaelEaly and Mrizzy are friends and Mrizzy is joking because if I were on the receiving end of that tweet -- IGNORE/BLOCK would be my next move.

This stupid tweet conversation caused me to consider the implications of her tweet: WHEN YOU GON' LET ME HOLLA?

First, men speak to women like this all the time (to their discredit). Is it now a woman's prerogative to behave in the same manner? There has to be a better way of communicating than to say WHEN YOU GON' LET ME HOLLA? Just a short generation ago lyrics of songs would go something like this:
Earth Angel, Earth Angel
Will you be mine?
My darling dear
Love you all the time
I'm just a fool
A fool in love with you
If only women still thought of themselves as angels. Would that change the way we, as women, view ourselves? If we are defining who we are by the lyrics in mainstream music then maybe we should demand better music and stop subscribing to the sexist, shallow, overly sexual-lized music that is being played over the airwaves.

In recent reviews that I've made after attending two night clubs, Zanzabar and Rumours, I pointed out how I think the music being played is absolutely ridiculous. Who wants to hear all the references to female genitalia or female dogs? I don't know what the appeal is. Given that the music is an obvious context for the modern young adult that indulges in that music, it's obvious why men and women behave the way they do. Let's look at the lyrics to 2chainz' Birthday Song:

2chainz
They ask me what I do and who I do it for
And how I come up with this shit up in the studio
All I want for my birthday is a big booty ho
All I want for my birthday is a big booty ho
When I die, bury me inside the Gucci store
When I die, bury me inside the Louis store
All I want for my birthday is a big booty ho
All I want for my birthday is a big booty ho

Kanye West
She got a big booty so I call her Big Booty
Scrr.. Scrr.. wrists moving, cooking, getting to it
I'm in the kitchen, yams everywhere
Just made a jug, I got bands everywhere
You the realest nigga breathing if I hold my breath
Referee, with the whistle, brrrrt, hold his tech
Extendo clip, extendo roll
When your girl leave me she need a hair salon
Hair weave killer going on a trapathon
See I done had more bombs than Pakistan
Dope bomb, dro bomb, and a pill bomb
See nigga, I'm balling, you in will call
When I did, bury me inside the jewelry store
When I die, bury me inside the Truey store
True to my religion, to everything I'm too different
So when I die, bury me next to two bitches

It was pretty difficult to get through reading that. Deciphering its meaning is just beyond me. I'm not sure why this music is appealing to young people. The beats and the constant whine of the "hook" of the song is probably a factor in hypnotizing young people into buying in. Add to that the degrading lyrics and we have modern "urban" culture. It certainly lends some insight to how women behave and dress in the club and that, in turn, influences how their relationships are fashioned.

This post started from a simple tweet I observed in tweet-dom and has evolved into whatever it has become. To conclude, there is only one thing I wish women would come to realize - we are not commodities. We dictate who and what we will tolerate. EVERYTHING in our world begins with our choices. I/You don't have to dress like a stripper to attract a man. In fact, doing so may attract more trouble than its worth. There is a definite place for lust and desire especially when selecting a life partner but it cannot be the ONLY thing that we use in determining if there is a match. When we say enough is enough, the whole world will bend to our desire.

Think on that and decide if you still "wanna holla'!

Book Review: Wild by Cheryl Strayed

I just completed the book Wild (Oprah's Book Club 2.0 Digital Edition) by Cheryl Strayed. It's about a girl who starts on an 1100 mile hike across California and Oregon and through all the rough terrain in between.

...at last I found myself, bootless, in the summer of 1995, not so much loose in the world as bound to it. It was a world I'd never been to and yet had known was there all along, one I'd staggered to in sorrow and confusion and fear and hope. A world I thought would both make me into the woman I knew I could become and turn me back into the girl I'd once been. 

At the end of her journey, Cheryl evolves into a woman with the skills to take on the rest of her life. It is a beautiful memoir. Beautiful indeed. I believe this is the type of book I will write. I'm excited by the idea of turning my memories and thoughts into a published memoir. I am sure that my struggles and my epiphanies will be of use to many a lonely reader.

Up until late last night, I was at about 90% done with the book. I just could not keep my eyes open to finish off the final 10% of the book. So this morning I woke up super early to enjoy and relish the final pages of this wonderful memoir.

Cheryl's journey on the Pacific Crest Trail begins after having experienced the loss of her mother to cancer, the fracture of her family after her mother's untimely passing, and the demise of her marriage because of her own infidelities. If there were any a time for Cheryl to do some soul searching, it would seem that those three things I mentioned were ample material for her to embark on a path of enlightenment. Her path led her down (or up) a physically grueling hike across some of the most beautiful scenery in the West. I say "beautiful" because as I read the book, I googled all the images associated with the places she mentioned. The images ignites my sense of wonderment in relation to all the natural wonders on this beautiful planet.

I can certainly relate to two of the most difficult things that Cheryl endured. First is the demise of her marriage. I have blogged about my first marriage on many occasions. Second is the loss of her mother. Though Cheryl had a very nice relationship with her mother. My relationship to mine was littered with my selfish, unapologetic brashness of immaturity because of her old-school parenting. I wish I could take back so many years of me keeping my mother at a distance. But I know that she understands my frailties and can see everything from a much more grand vantage point.

One of the worst things about losing my mother at the age I did was how very much there was to regret ...The thought of my youthful lack of humility made me nauseous now. I had been an arrogant asshole and, in the midst of that, my mother died. Yes, I'd been a loving daughter and yes, I'd been there for her when it mattered, but I could have been better. I could have been what I'd begged her to say I was: the best daughter in the world.

I wonder if Cheryl's words are having an effect on me.

Alone had always felt like an actual place to me, as if it weren't a state of being, but rather a room where I could retreat to be who I really was. The radical aloneness of the PCT had altered that sense. Alone wasn't a room anymore, but the whole wide world, and now I was alone in that world, occupying it in a way I never had before.

I often feel like ALONE is a place I want to be. I want to be ALONE to follow my own paths and dreams and to bring my life into a peaceful alignment. I want to become the person I must authentically and genuinely be. As women, some of us take on the heavy burden of caring for everyone except ourselves. I no longer want to be that woman. But how does one UNTANGLE from all the burdens that have been heaped upon our shoulders? Cheryl quotes her mother:

"I never got to be in the driver's seat of my own life," she'd wept to me once, in the days after she learned she was going to die. "I always did what someone else wanted me to do. I've always been someone's daughter or mother or wife. I've never just been me. 

So who am I? I still don't know. I want to make choices independent of my "role" as wife or daughter or sister or friend. I want to make choices that fit who I am, authentically.

Needless to say, Cheryl Strayed truly has a gem on her hands. I'm thankful Oprah resurrected her Book Club. I look forward to our next read.