the Super Sistah Blog

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Love is Like a Fist February 14, 2011

Filed under: General,Love-Relationships,Women's Issues — thesupersistah @ 5:54 pm
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Some individuals are afraid of love. Like all things that require risk, love is stamped with a handle with care or danger sign. For many, instead of a warm inviting fire, love is like a stove turned up too high. The flame is a liability that left unchecked can burn the house down and leave destruction behind. For some folks, relationships require caution. Every date and mate is approached with an orange and yellow neon caution sign that blinks uncontrollably. Instead of a sexy red dress, the outfit of choice is a red warning siren overhead that flashes DON’T TOUCH.  When in relationships these individuals only give the love they think they can spare and hoard the rest.  They keep the excess emotion locked within themselves so they have an emergency supply in times of famine and duress.  People have hurt them in the past so they protect their love like the military and surround it with a battalion of war ready soldiers.  The plan is to protect the heart from risk. But as with all things, love is like a fist. Holding the hand clenched tight doesn’t let anything precious out but it also doesn’t let anything valuable in. No one can win.

So for the lost in love, the hurt and humiliated, and most importantly, for the weary, let me tell you this on Valentine’s Day.  Love won’t kill you. It can’t.  Love is a gift meant to uplift, strengthen and build. The heart is a strong organ meant to beat despite the greatest tests. It’s meant to endure and not shatter or break like glass at the slightest trial. If I get biblical the Good Book says, to everything there is a season, a time for every purpose under the sun. A time to be born and a time to die; a time to plant and a time to pluck up that which is planted; a time to kill and a time to heal.  A time to weep and a time to laugh; a time to mourn and a time to dance…

If there is a time for everything then there is a time for love. So this year and years following, let your hair down. Love hard and without restraint. Dance into love and let the emotion overwhelm you. Laugh because it’s allowed and remember that no matter what went wrong in the past. Today is a new beginning.

I wish all my readers all the love their hearts and hands can hold. Let it overflow and consume. May you jump from the top of the mountain into the abyss feet first with your eyes wide open. Wade into the murky waters of love with all your clothes on and let the refreshing waters of fearlessness cleanse all your doubts. If you loved unwisely in the past it’s not the love that you gave that was wrong, it was the recipient. Dust yourself off, leave the past behind you and present the next person a brand new revitalized heart. Love is currency, spend wisely.

Have you ever been afraid of love?


The End of Cliff and Clair? July 25, 2010

Filed under: Love-Relationships,Race/Ethic Issues — thesupersistah @ 11:14 pm
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Super Sistah likes to travel and she likes to visit all sorts of places all over the globe.  Recently she visited the neighbors to the North —Canada.  In this cold air country, the home of the maple leaf, the moose and the booted Mountie, I discovered something disturbing about the black male inhabitants who call the place home.   Now black people are black people everywhere and dependent on our geographical location there are things that mark us culturally.  As I wandered through the malls, the restaurants and streets in this country renowned for its beautiful landscape, low crime rates and its civility, I kept on wondering why I found some of the men there lacking. If we know a little bit of our history we know that many slaves escaped to the North and sought out freedom and assimilation there.  Was that why the men seemed a little watered down to me? I couldn’t figure out what I had against these brothers to the North and then it hit me.   

Despite its stereotype as a very white country, there are places in Canada teeming with women of color from every country and continent on the globe.  In Canada the black women are multi-cultural, spicy and flavorful.  Yet as I walked through the place it struck me forcefully that it seemed black women had no power and no prestige. Super Sistah saw black men pass sisters by without a glance or a look. What was the cause?  How did we get to a place in time where black men had so many options that it wasn’t even a consideration to date within their race?  It seemed wrong somehow that beautiful black women didn’t even warrant a steamy look or an overly long, potentially raunchy stare.  It was sad and it was soul-destroying.  As I looked around, I saw black men with ever race of other on the planet.  I rarely saw a Michelle Obama, a Halle Berry or a Gabrielle Union attached to a black man’s side.  It occurred, but it was rarer than it should be. Instead brothers strolled on with hands clasped with all versions of Pretty Pale, Sorta Exotic, Almost Ethnic, Barely Black and everything in between.  I can’t tell people who to love but when did the Cosby Show’s Clair and Cliff become obsolete?  

Is dating and mating exclusively other considered a preference? Is this place in the North a sign of things to come? Is this the beginning of the systematic demise of black love?  

Cliff & Clair Huxtable


The Racial Divide July 18, 2010

Filed under: Pop Culture,Race/Ethic Issues — thesupersistah @ 1:14 am
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Super Sistah would like to lay claim to being an intellectual giant. I’d like to impress the world with my brilliance and discerning taste. I would like to say that I’m a scholar and that I feed my mind and keep abreast of current events by being a student of CNN, Anderson 360 and the talk show Huckabee.  Instead to my shame, I get most of my current event data from my secret obsession—a steady dose of ET and Extra.  It’s this silent killer, addiction to celebrity gossip, which brings me to the topic of my latest blog.  I try to keep current, so last weekend through my undeniable  source Access Hollywood, I learned that LaLa Vasquez and the basketball player Carmelo Anthony got married at Cipriani in New York.  The masses instead of wishing this young couple well and hoping that they’re not a casualty of marriage Hollywood style, was instead preoccupied with something so insignificant that it hardly bears mentioning.  A viral comment under the couple’s picture resulted in an online war so ferocious that I wished for a moment that Mr. Martin Luther King himself would have risen from the grave to mediate.  One unsuspecting African-American male made an unspeakable faux pas when he posted the comment, that it was nice to see two black people get married and doing the right thing towards unifying their family.  Did anyone agree with such a nice sentiment?  Did anyone care? No, instead the negativity exploded because the poster had the nerve to call the bride black (she’s a dark-skinned Puerto Rican) along with the groom,who is a self-identified African-American who supposedly has some Spanish ancestry.  What the Hell!

To my Latina readers please help me out here. I’m not from New York originally so I get confused by the negativity that radiates when someone has the audacity to identify you with the black race. Super Sistah has been to the Dominican Republic and South America.  Studying the history of the people there, the facts state that the racial compositions of most Spanish people are a mix of European (Spain), Native American (indigenous to the land) and African (yes, the mother land). Even if I’d never read that history, my eyes would have told me. Help me out Spanish people. I love y’all but you’re confusing me. Rosario Dawson and Zoe Saldana look like they could be a part of my family.  Why does it seem that you claim your European side with so much pride but scorn your African ancestry?  Is being black a crime? Since I’m told by the US census and the forms on all government applications that Spanish is an ethnicity and not a race, why do you react so violently when you’re linked to us?  If this was a family reunion, it’s obvious we’d be if not brother and sister, at least very close family. Why is being black and Spanish thought to be mutually exclusive? Why does one cancel out the other? Why do you hate being called black when our stories, our struggles and our cultures are intertwined so closely?  Yes, yes, I get it. You’re brown.  As you know, Super Sistah is all for claiming your identity. But denying your roots and your heritage won’t change the blood flowing through your veins or your DNA.   

Tell me everyone. What are your thoughts?  Does being brown cancel out being black?   

The Bride and Groom