Kindred Women

Beloved, you are my sister, you are my daughter, you are my face; you are me. Toni Morrison

As a woman, particularly a woman of color, I have, like so many others had difficulty developing friendships with women. I don't mean casual relationships, but true life-long relationships based upon mutual honesty, respect and trust.

We've all had negative experiences since childhood ranging from African American/black culture taboos relating to the texture of our hair, color complexities, standards of beauty, popularity and intelligence. Often, we were "pitted" against one another because there seemed to never be enough. And as we grew older experiences with lovers and job opportunities would further deepen our infectious wombs. However, we seldom if ever made a conscious effort to look inward toward our problems.

I had a sister friend a few years ago who often exclaimed "I don't do women." All the while professing that I was one of her closet friends. As the years progressed, I realized that Kenya did not only, not do women; she did not DO HERSELF. It is not my desire to complete a moral inventory upon her; however, the sister had major father, esteem, and social issues, SQUARED! She preferred to date African or Caribbean men. Who, she believed, represented the "epitome" of a man. "They have not been emasculated and molded into a submissively weak sky-blue (mixture of blue and white) collar wearing thuggish wannabe by the American culture, media, socialization, and politics," she would say over and over again. An idea I could agree with in some ways. Kenya also believed every woman who wore their hair in the natural state was an embarrassment. Mind you, I discussed in great detail my decision to transition from chemicals to natural hair styles with her almost daily. She believed every bi or lesbian female wanted to be with her and every heterosexual female in the office wanted to be her or hated on her. That most of the men in the office were her friends, because they simply "understood" her and knew that she was woman of substance. Not like those 'hoes in the office that wanted to gossip about her because they were all so close. Needless to say her exclamation, "I don't do women" became my reality. There were no other issues: 1) I didn't want her. 2) Didn't want to be her. 3) Wasn't jealous of her. 4) Didn't want to be her man. 5) Was supportive and encouraging in all of her dreams and desires. and 6) Didn't disclose her "business" . In other words, I was a friend. Even when she wasn't a friend to me. In the end, she would no longer "do me" behind of all things, a vaccuum cleaner. However, I was mature enough to recognize, that I was a sister friend who brought little if any conflict or drama. That proved to be too much.

Kenya is one of many cautionary tales. We've all been there. The most recent occurred in my office with a woman (un)affectionately known as (ICE) Princess. The Ice Princess shared many of Kenya's characteristics. Like Kenya, I had no desire to be friend with her, I was simply corgial. And my politeness rolled into frequent conversation and, once again, I wandered aimlessly into the well known land of "I Don't Do Women" acquaintanceship. In this case, I decided to keep it pretty simple, and it would never, in any way go beyond the office and business trips. Which worked until I got a promotion. The one she didn't want.

My developmental years were spent with my Great Grand. When you are reared by old people you learn a lot, fast. One of which is who you are. Not may people can say they had a relationship, let alone spent the first eleven years of their life with a Great Grand parent. Secondly, when you are able to hear first hand the TRUE STRUGGLE of our people. My Great Grand and her siblings were people who were able to corroborate my history and government class readings, even the two weeks of "black history" I received every February. The only time you learned about your history if you were reared in the "Southern Slave" states. They were all slave States. I also learned about the brutality and it's impact upon the black family which is the root of our economic and social issues. I digress. I learned quickly not to carry unnecessarty shame, because you know what real shame is. You learn to be comfortable with who you are REGARDLESS of sexual orientation, socio-economic status, level of education, and believe it or not looks. It's what you receive during those developmental years that makes or breaks you as a woman.

I've had friends throughout my life who were taught that make up, hair, clothes and shoes made them beautiful. These are the same women who would not be caught without some horse's tail hanging from their heads, along with half the MAC counter all the while not purchasing their children clothes and other essentials. Or they are planting that same poisonous seed in their child's mind. Let me tell you this, my ass is ALWAYS FLY in my gay white man t-shirts or button downs, blue jeans and matching sandals or flip flops. Let me re-iterate, my ass is always fly. I'm not trying to compete with another sister. My standard of beauty is what have I looked like when I felt the most beautiful? I've peeped Nikki's pics, she's a beautiful woman. Eb is cute as she can be with her little Chocolate Stassney Barbie Butt. Angel is rocking the hell out of her 'fro and cute ass outfits. Shelle is beautiful with her curly locks. Joey got the Kotalian thing on lock. My girl does her thing with each and every one of her color choices in hair and clothes. Tee Tee with her beautiful locks and colorful tattoo sleeve. And I could go on and on..

I say all of this because I had a card/domino party at the house on Saturday night. There were women from all walks of like. A New York Puerto Rican who works like a Jamaican. A Caucasian sister who loves nothing but chocolate. A beautiful bi-racial sister who embraces both her cultures. A sister who prolly lives more of a white experience than any white woman I know. There were natural little 'fros, locks, weaves, braids, perms, dyed blondes with black roots. And we had FUN!!! We talked, ate, talked shit, laughed and most of all learned. And it was a wonderful experience.

Thank G.O.D. I am learning to not only do women, but be a woman, contiue to appreciate the beauty of our differences and trust women. Because I am a beautiful, trustworthy woman who can embrace the spectrum of our difference and never for one second QUESTION WHO I AM.

until we meet again. salama...