This is the first rap song I learned all the words to. I was 13.
This isn’t the original version of the music video, but I like this edit. Enjoy!
C U When U Get There
Somehow I rise above my problems and remain here.
Yeah, and I hope the picture painted clear:
If you heart filled with faith then you can’t fear
Wonder how I’ve faced years and I’m still chillin?
Easy, let go and let God deal with it.
Sexual Assault. Do you have to go through it to care about it?
This question always arises for me every April. I have a lot of friends who know someone with autism, and thus, support Autism Awareness month, which also happens to be April. This year, I see that friends who know someone who’ve benefited from an organ transplant supporting organ donation. April is also Organ Donation Awareness month. What simultaneously inspires and disheartens me is the fact that these people know someone who have been through these things, so they support these causes. Every one of these people, and the other 400 people on my Facebook page, know at least one person who has been sexually assaulted: me. And yet, the only people I see supporting this cause are the people who have themselves lived through such violence.
I think this is a huge problem in our culture. “As long as I haven’t been raped, then who cares?” Right? Why do I continuously find that the only people driven to stop sexual violence are those who have personally lived through it? Is it really that hard to imagine how awful it is if you haven’t experienced it? Do you really not care that much about the women and men in your life who have been victimized by sexual predators?
I think a lot of it has to do with the silence surrounding the issue, because it sure as hell isn’t the lack of prevalence. 1 in 4 girls and 1 in 6 boys will be sexually assaulted by the age of 18. (Finkelhor, David, et al. “Sexual Abuse in a National Survey of Adult Men and Women: Prevalence, Characteristics, and Risk Factors.”) Are you really going to tell me that you don’t know at least 4 women or 6 men?
No, a lot of it has to do with our silence around the issue. Anything sexual is taboo. You know, as long as it isn’t sexual imagery in time square, music videos, magazines, television, movies, or books. From Fifty Shades of Grey to Abercrombie ads, sexuality is everywhere. However, when it comes to sexual violence, we best not talk about it. Virgin ears, and all.
Or maybe it is the violence part of it. Although, I recently saw Olympus has Fallen, and it suggests Americans have an endless thirst for blood. What’s a movie without a good knife through the head, eh?
Nah, it is just the careful combination of sexual and violence that sends people fleeing in a frenzy.
Let me be frank, you know someone, nay, you know A LOT of someones who have been sexually assaulted in their lives. Not convinced? Start asking around. Your eyes might just open. It is likely that your between your daughter, sister, best friend, mother, aunt, or cousin, at least one has been sexually assaulted.
What then is our problem with talking about it?
I venture to guess that this culture of victim-baming has a lot to do with it. As most recently displayed in the Steubenville rape case, which has brought out the Ugly and the Brave around the issue of victim-blaming. Keep her full of shame = Keep her silent = Let’s just pretend this stuff never happens = No one cares about Sexual Assault Awareness month, except for survivors of sexual assault.
Maybe I am being blunt, but I am personally insulted by the lack of interest around the issue. And I expect a few more people to be displaying their teal ribbons after today.
Let me tell you, from personal experience, about the residual effects of trauma. After it happened, I could barely sleep. I stayed awake, alarmed by any small sound in the night. I never felt safe. I have yet to be able to trust men. I have flashbacks, that feel as though I am reliving the trauma over again. Therefore, I relive it over and over again. My startle reflex is incredibly sensitive. When I went to see Olympus has Fallen, I was jerking repeatedly, startled by the loud sounds. Even a shadow on my computer screen makes me jump. Whenever I am put into a vulnerable situation, I get disoriented and overwhelmed. My pupils dilate, and I become sensitive to sounds. Walking to my car in a parking lot at night, for example. I avoid situations which might trigger these effects, such as: being around men, being by myself outside, being intimate with someone, or alone at night. It has been years, and I am still working to undo the harm done.
I’m not saying I am not living a fulfilling life. What I am saying is that it has taken years of hard work to get to where I can. And what I want to impress upon you is that my case is lucky. I’ve had a lot of resources that most people never have. Such violence haunts a lot of people till the day they die. It breaks their souls. And mending a soul isn’t easy. And even when mended, there will always be scars.
That is all I’m trying to say. Sexual violence is an issue worth caring about.
Driving home from a meeting tonight, I listened to my favorite group. They’re called All Sons & Daughters. This song came on: (close your eyes and listen)
This song brings me to tears.
Part of it is the way the describe the heart ache of watching Jesus on the cross, and the way the promise of His return is the only thing that kept them holding on. I totally understand this. It automatically sends me to a place where I think about that sacrifice that He made for me. For me! How totally absurd is that? I’m not even a smudge on the pages of history. I’m just one of billions of people walking this planet. But wow, He had me in mind while making that sacrifice. He wanted to set ME free. Of course, He wanted to set all of us free, but we weren’t just faces in a crowd to Him. We weren’t just another number among the billions. He had each of us in mind on that day. And there was this pain. Can you imagine what it was like to watch Him die? How it would make your heart ache to see someone you love go through that? But they held on, believing He would return. And here I am today, holding on with the same promise in mind. I never used to understand why people would look forward to the return of Christ, but I get it now. I would be so happy to get to be near Him.
By the time the song is over, I’m so aware of that sacrifice and what it meant for me. I am so humbled by Him making the choice to make such a sacrifice to set me free. I know that everything I have, I have because of God. All of it. All I want is to be the best person I can be, for God. I can never be worthy of what He did for me, but I want to be as close as I can possibly be. I want nothing more than to be a good person for the sake of trying with everything I have in me to repay this debt. I know I cannot repay, and He wouldn’t even want me to. He didn’t do it with our compensation in mind. He did it knowing that our freedom was the reward. Can you imagine how joyous it is to see someone you love set free from the bondage of this dark world?
I give you all the glory, God. I can never repay You, but I pray you see my heart and know how grateful I am to my very core. I’m nothing without You. Everything I have, I have because of You. Everything I have accomplished, is because of You alone. I want nothing more than to know You more and live a life that gives You glory. I want nothing more than to serve You. I am forever indebted to You, and forever grateful for You. I love You with everything I have, every fiber of my being. I am Yours.
I have this ache within me, knowing that I can never repay God for all that God has done for me. What a humbling feeling.
“Lose not yourself in a far off time, seize the moment that is thine.” ~Friedrich Schiller
I heard a song recently that brought up a lot of new emotions for me. Some of you may remember it “Graduation (Friends Forever)” by Vitamin C. Don’t judge. I don’t know why I download this crap, but I do. It started playing, and at first I wanted to turn it to the next song, but I didn’t. As I listened, it wasn’t far into the song that I burst into tears. I don’t know, blame it on hormones. It is a pretty awful song, but as I listened to it, it suddenly hit me how old the song was, and how old I am. I started thinking about how life was when I was in high school, and how it felt like every single day was going to last forever. Days go by so quickly now, that years are over before a blink or a breath have the opportunity to complete themselves.
“The clock talked loud. I threw it away, it scared me what it talked.” ~Tillie Olsen
I have been struggling a lot lately with this, as I do twelve step work. I suddenly feel like all the time I spent “living it up” was time wasted. All the years that actually last for a minute, are gone, and I barely remember them. Now time flies so quickly that I see people around me getting married, having kids, having second and third kids, doctorates being earned, marriages ending in divorce, and/or lives ending, period; and I’m left with my head spinning, still trying to figure out what I want to do with my life.
There’s this sinking feeling in my gut, like everyone who was ahead of me by a small head start has now nearly completed their lives, and my proverbial clock is ticking. Not even my reproduction clock! I can’t even support myself at this point. It is my death clock. My death clock is now ticking, people. This is serious.
“Men talk of killing time, while time quietly kills them.” ~Dion Boucicault
I get that my life hasn’t been a waste. It took a lot of ups and downs to land me in the spot where I am now standing, and I couldn’t be more grateful to have the growth, perspective, and relationship with God that I now have. My relationships with everyone around me have improved. How could they not? We’re maturing.
I know myself well enough to know that this is what it took to get me here, and nothing short of it would have sufficed. I am stubborn and hard-headed and feverishly determined. It is just that this is the first time I have started to put those qualities to use toward something productive.
“The best thing about the future is that it comes one day at a time.” ~Abraham Lincoln
Look, I matured an unnatural amount with in an incredibly short period of time. In the time between last August and now, I have learned so much, and evolved so much. I love who I am, and the opportunities I have had are such an incredible blessing that nothing I could ever do would be enough to thank God and my loved ones for the support it took to have them. I also realize what a privilege it is to have had the kind of treatment it takes to overcome the things I have struggled with. I never forgot that while I was in treatment. I was pained to see what a small portion of the population has access to that kind of healing, and I had to keep pushing forward because I knew if I wanted to be a part of any positive change in this world, I had to start with a positive change in me. It took a lot to accept such a huge gift.
So now, in the interest of candor, I will tell you what I face.
As soon as Vitmain C’s song ended, Eminem came on. “Lose Yourself.” I know this was a God wink. 😉
It is like God was saying: you used to have your whole life ahead of you, but time has passed, and before you even know it, your whole life will be behind you. Time to jump in with both feet. This is not the time to hold back or freeze up.
I gave you this life, LIVE IT! This is your chance, USE IT!
“Let him who would enjoy a good future waste none of his present.” ~Roger Babson
I recently watched seasons 1-5 of “Weeds” on Netflix streaming. SPOILER ALERT: When U-Turn dies and Nancy gets a U-Turn sign tattooed on her ass, I was inspired. I actually considered doing the same. It just seemed like a funny message, and a clever/convenient double entendre. Similarly, I’ve always been moved and energized by the (now classic) “Here I Go Again” by Whitesnake. You know… Here I go again on my own! Going down the only road I’ve ever known! Like a drifter, I was born to walk alone… You get the point, there’s a lot to be said for travel euphemisms? I don’t know. I figured I should start my first post in a while with something nonchalant and silly. But the truth is, I’m writing tonight because of a realization I had today. I figured, at this point, if I have an audience, I don’t know who they are, and I’m a lot less concerned about that. I don’t have an agenda, besides telling my story. For a moment there, I got so caught up in delivering a hopeful message, and doing it a certain way, that I lost myself, and stopped writing.
This morning, singer Amy Winehouse was found dead. The rumor is that an overdose is what finally did her in, at the ripe ol’ age of 27. It startled me for a second when I realized she was 27, and then saw her birth year. I’m 27. I too, was born in 1983. We all know the rock star references that are made here… Jimi, Janis, Jim, Kurt, etc. I’m no rock star, but I’ve been calling myself one for about a year now. I grew a little worried after proclaiming such a title and then realizing my age. My blog before this one was called “Musings of a Self-Proclaimed Rock Star.” It was amusing, but also cathartic, and often raw. I’ve decided to make it public again and you can find it. Even since closing the blog, I’ve been tweeting under the name @RockStarMusisings. Yes, I’m coming out. I’ve come to realize you either hide nothing, or you hide it all. Hiding shit is far too much work, and I’m far too lazy to work that hard to keep other people comfortable.
Amy’s death jolted me into this moment in a way nothing else has. I read the parts of Russell Brand’s blog post on her, that were shared on msnbc.com, and I realized that Winehouse and I have a lot in common. As for addictions, mine have come and gone, and the only one that has ever REALLY threatened my life, is food. Mainly because cocaine is expensive; alcohol can be miserable; and sex become tedious. Man! Whew! I had forgotten how refreshing honesty can be.
All that aside, I felt like Brand was really making an appeal to non-addicts to realize that addiction is a serious illness that kills people, and otherwise saying little about Winehouse besides the fact that she was distant, and a genius that we only saw at a glimpse. Now, I know you’re wondering where I am in that description, but I’ll elaborate. I don’t think I am a genius, but even now, it breaks my heart to realize that I, much like Winehouse, have held the world at such a distance that if I died, the world wouldn’t realize what it had lost. I agree with Brand. I think Amy Winehouse was incredible, and the media reveled in her slow demise, and mostly missed the light that she brought to the world. And this is our world. It is shitty. But what hurts me about what we have lost with the death of Amy Winehouse, is that we have no idea. That sultry voice, that deeply rich, dark soul. She had such a wealth within her, and we will never get to know it. We can joke all we want. When I first heard of her death, I blah blah blahed about who was next, Lindsay or Charlie. But Amy wasn’t just another troubled soul, and musical genius aside, she was a human being.
I’ve heard through social networking that Amy’s mom commented about making mental preparations for this day, knowing it would (or thinking it might) come. This takes me back to the days after my suicide attempt, when my mother was staying with me. During a heated argument one day, she admitted that it is hard to move forward, and stay involved, because on some level she knew I would do it again, and I might just be successful next time. She voiced to me that her distance was an attempt to keep herself safe, and to cope with that remaining chance that I won’t survive. As inexcusable as that may be to many of you out there, who have no idea, I understand it. Amy probably understood that. As much as she probably wanted to be sober, and not let herself and her loved ones down over and over again, she probably understood their distance. She probably knew that they had to keep themselves safe.
Tonight I was reflecting on addiction and I realized that it is a thin line between giving up on, sticking by, and enabling an addict. You have to love them unconditionally, but you have to set boundaries. You have to draw a line, but you have to let them know that you always want what’s best. I know that a lot of times, to an addict it looks like loved ones are walking away, when in reality, they’re doing all that they can to save the addict’s life, and maintain their own sanity/safety.
I was truly blessed to have dodged hard addictions, but as I type this, I’m sitting in a chair in the corner of my room, next to a stain on my wall. The stain is from my last suicide attempt, and the vomit left behind. My walls are a pale purple, but around the stain, you can see an aura of pale blue, where friends came and tried to wipe away the evidence before I got out of the hospital.
I get that Amy Winehouse was one of those whose death was “bound to happen,” out of all of us… I get that. But I also agree with Russell Brand: She didn’t have to be. I know there is a misunderstanding about artists. Most people think that your best work is done while you’re in the pits of despair, but one can only survive down there so long. I get that you can’t enable, but I wonder who was fighting for her. From where I’m sitting, there were jokes about her condition, just as there continue to be, but little else. Of course, I don’t know about her personal life, but usually the people who are consistently surrounding an addict, are also addicts. Generally speaking, addicts, when battling head-to-head with their condition, have one priority, the drug. All others are simply extras in the movie reel of their lives, just background music. Life isn’t lived as a series of moments, goals, accomplishments… life is composed of getting high, and the plans that you devise between highs to achieve the next high. Funny how something so simple can completely consume you.
So, I’m not a musical genius. So, I’m not in the public eye. So, I’m not wealthy or producing records that are going platinum, or performing in front of thousands. So, I’m not hooked on heroin. So, I’m not caught by the paparazzi, wandering the streets at night, disheveled and distraught. Do I need to be? Frankly, I feel that this world knows more of me than it did of her, despite her fame and notoriety. She was a ghost to us, and now the presence that we felt subtly, though oft ignored, is gone. Will we realize the void, no matter how quiet, that remains in her absence? Perhaps, not. But this little earthquake that has left me thinking, and sometimes speaking out loud, to myself and those around me, “I can’t believe Amy Winehouse is dead,” perhaps there is something to be said for that. I believe it is possible for our souls to ache for something that we don’t even realize that we’ve lost. When someone accomplishes so far below their potential, we all lose something very great, especially in the way of art, which can inspire us so deeply and undoubtedly change the world.
I am 27. For so long, but especially so over the past few months, I have held the world at a distance. I am uncertain of why. I suppose it is mostly out of fear. There is always the fear of what people will think, and fear of failure. As a survivor of sexual violence, there is also a fear of being revicitimized. We fear trying, but not reaching our potential. And to the contrary, there is a fear of reaching your potential and being disappointed. I’ve feared losing people, only to push them away in the end anyway. There is a fear of living, and all that “living” entails. The rush of love, and the pain of loss; two things that, as hard as we try to force them apart, are always packaged together. And there is a lot of pain, and certainly plenty of loss to be experienced out there. People leave because they want to, or leave because time rips them away from us. There are stubbed toes, broken bones, burns, cuts, and bruises. There’s rejection, and dismay. There’s fear. Oh! The crippling fear. It all comes full circle.
I realize now that there are people out there, who are so gifted, constantly stuffing down their potential, for whatever reason. I imagine Amy had something inside of her that haunted her. It could’ve been huge, or just a twinge of pain that she couldn’t stand to feel. She wanted to shut it up, numb it out, or kill it. And eventually she succeeded, but for that, what did she lose? And on a universal level, what have we lost? Another little bit of hope that could’ve inspired the next step in improving this damned world? Perhaps it was her voice on a tattered CD out there, that was playing on repeat for the kid who would grow up to do something great for this world, simply because her voice kept her/him going. What voice will that kid hear now? Or maybe Winehouse’s voice was the last of its kind, an endangered soulful echo that has now become extinct; and because of our blatant lack of appreciation, the voices of generations to come will resemble that of Ke$ha or Rebecca Black. Dear God, the horror.
I understand that there are parts of my spirit that ache, but I’m willing to withstand it for the sake of something good. If I have anything to offer, no matter how great or small, I do not feel it is my right to destroy any remnants of hope this world may have. For all the fear, for all the pain, I have to believe that there is purpose.
Do I believe that there’s a reason that I (or any other troubled talents out there) am alive and she isn’t? Well, besides the fact that heroin is like playing russian roulette with a nearly fully loaded gun, no. Eating yourself to death takes more time. I attribute my failure to stick with addictions to a short attention span, an empty wallet, the fact that I’m easily bored, and a fear of commitment. In the grand scheme of things though, she and I have both toyed with our mortality, and any way you look at it, the game can only end one way. When the game is over, one fact becomes blazingly obvious, there was a human being who is now gone. On top of that, she was a human being who held a wealth of talent, the depth of which we can never know. I think that’s what frightens me the most. If I have more to offer, as I believe I do, it is scary to think that being entangled in fear and doubt could stifle that gift. I too, could die without having shared of myself, or utilized my opportunity to contribute goodness to this desperate world.
We all have the potential to offer beauty to this world; in the end the big question is whether we will fight it or let it flourish. I’d like to think that this realization is a bit of something good coming from tragedy, but I suppose only time will tell. It is nice to believe that every screeching halt in one life’s potential, can cause a u-turn in another. If someone was headed towards an early end, another sudden silencing of greatness, maybe Amy can be a reminder that there are other options, and so much more to see along life’s detours.
My deepest prayer for you, Ms. Winehouse, is that somewhere out there, you’ve been blessed with a peace that you never managed to discover on earth. And if you’re down, I’m hoping that even on your cloud, you’ll still step up to the mic from time to time.
“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you… It’s not just in some of us; it’s in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”
Look, as an artist, I respect Lady Gaga (her voice, the music, the lyrics), and I get what she trying to do… but the whole concept of being “born this way” is kind of ironic to me coming from her, because I want to be like “No… honey, no you weren’t. You were not born from an egg that was being carried by an entourage, from which you emerged with a flashy-ever changing wardrobe and a totally smokin’ bod.”
Over the top? Maybe. I think I was born resistant and rebellious. I mean, I refused to come out for quite some time before they cut my mom open and drug me out.
I think it is great to encourage people to be themselves, but these artists need to be a little more honest with the mirror when they claim they’re being themselves. Jessie J’s song “Who You Are” is AMAZING, it says “its ok not to be ok.” Which is a line I really appreciate, and it really helps me when I’m dealing with raw emotions. But there is one line where she says, “Brushing my hair, do i look perfect? I forgot what to do to fit the mold,” which kind of irks me. For those of you who have seen Jessie J, her hair IS perfect. She may be a little unique, but she fits the mold quite well: tall, skinny, pretty. That is why I appreciate the YouTube cover of the song by Meghan Tonjes. She’s a big girl, with an amazing voice, and she’s gorgeous… but everything about her is just more REAL. (And her voice is better than Jessie J’s anyway) And when SHE sings “its ok not to be ok” I believe it so much more
Why can’t we have artists like that? Artists who are real, and natural, and embracing it??? When I look at Lady Gaga, I always think that. It is easy to say that you’re different, and you want people to be themselves, but they can’t really look to you to as a role model of how to do that… when you are very typically beautiful, but you throw on a mask, some wigs, and a WILDLY OUTRAGEOUS garb to simultaneously negotiate and highlight the ways you fit into heteronormative beauty standards. You want to REALLY challenge us? Go get fat, or something.
This also applies to Beyoncé, who has put out songs like “If I Were a Boy,” and “Run the World.” I feel like those songs are so manipulative, because they reinforce pretty horrible things while trying to play it off as though they are are challenging them. Also, Beyoncé… I saw you recently. You were blond. Please, stop sending the message that young black girls would be prettier if their hair was blonder and straighter. If you want to blow our minds for a minute… go all Erykah Badu with that shiz. I’m not saying all black women should go “au naturel,” but there are far more famous black women out there who look whiter and whiter every time I see them, and that’s not fair.
Here is a great analysis of the Beyoncé phenomenon:
Gaga, your voice is pretty incredible… but I often feel like your music and your entire performance really play down your talent, when you should be embracing it. That’s why I always appreciate your performances on SNL more. You tend to start songs with a piano and just you, in a flashy costume, REALLY SINGING. Once you move on to the PERFORMANCE of it, though… YOU get lost, and all I hear is “blah blah blah.”
I don’t even want to buy your CD, even though I think I’d enjoy it. I feel like I’d be buying into this whole market of people who DO know how to “fit into the mold” while claiming they don’t; or telling me to be myself, when I have no way of knowing the difference between who they really are, and what they portray.
I miss more genuine representations of rawness and humility in music… the ones that don’t just claim things without the substance to back it up. That’s what I like about India Arie, Janis Joplin, Lauryn Hill, and Ani DiFranco… (sometimes p!nk, although she gets caught up in the marketing of it all too).
I get that marketing plays that game of “Buy this, because you’re not good enough, and this will make you better,” but can’t we reserve that technique for make up, diet products, and plastic surgery? Can’t we let the voices and the music speak for themselves when selling MUSIC?!?! I don’t care what you look like, the only thing I want from music is inspiration.
Music is SOOOOOOO POWERFUL. I get that it is a commodity, but can’t we just PLEASE get away from that for a while???
I want to look at musicians as ARTISTS, not just PERFORMERS. And I need to see women turn towards this model so much more, because the male artists out there have way more freedom to do it already.
I want to see female artists who ARE themselves. Where is the market for that? I want someone who looks something other than perfect singing me a song that tells me that she loves herself as is, and wants others to do the same. You can say it all you want, but actions speak louder than words. I get that you want people to see YOU, Gaga… I get that you’re into the flashy thing… but a few minutes of crying about being bullied as a kid in a documentary doesn’t convince me. I’m not saying walk around all the time crying about it… I’m just saying that I need more time of real YOU, not masked, costumed you… just you. And yes, I realize that you naturally fit into a lot of preset beauty standards, and maybe the flashy garb is an attempt to negotiate that… I get that, and I can respect it. But, I KNOW you have days where you aren’t made up and costumed. I WOULD LOVE to see you like… in some effing PJ’s or something!!! Just relax!!!
Russel Brand recently tweeted a pic of wife, Katy Perry without make up. She was horrified, and made him take it down, but I don’t know why. She was obviously caught off guard in the pic, but she was natural… and beautiful. I’m telling you, dear celeb women, you’re celebrities for a reason… you have something naturally already. Don’t feel so hard-pressed to dress it up and make it up like you aren’t good enough as is. How horrible do you think it makes us feel to see that even the most beautiful of women feel the need to hide within costume of what others think we should be?
You know how they have those “DON’T GET GAS DAYS” when gas prices spike, as sort of a protest??? I would LOVE to challenge ALL CELEBRITY WOMEN to go out one day, and walk the streets with the paparazzi entourage following… in nothing but pajamas. No make up. LET US SEE YOU!!! OWN IT. Hiding yourselves doesn’t help you, and it doesn’t help other young women out there who look up to you. I know some of you have tried it in a photo shoot here or there, but it is safer to be without clothes and make up when you have lighting and a good photographer. Just saying.
And yes, I realize that looking up to celebrities is stupid as it is. I GET THAT. Most people DO NOT.
AND CELEBRITIES ARE IN OUR FACES ALL THE TIME… and I guess I’m just as sick of people selling lies as I am by the fact that we actually buy them.
I’m done with my main point. But I’ll add a few perspectives, to open your mind.
Here is a recent vloggity by Philip DeFranco (love of my life). I really appreciate this message, and I totally think more men need to say it just as much as women need to say it (and mean it). I do also realize, though, that it is very valuable coming from women who say it and live it… Mainly because so many of us, too often, look to men to validate our worth.
Also, I realize that I’m not a musical person, and lyrics always hit me more, but I also appreciate the honesty of slam poetry… it is like music to me. Just a beat, and words. I know honesty isn’t totally marketable, but I wish it could be. I’ve posted my favorite slam poet, Buddy Wakefield here before, so this time, I want to share some slam poetry from an eclectic group of youths who are featured on HBO’s series “BRAVE NEW VOICES” which is presented by Russel Simmons.
“1893” by Jamaica
“That Girl” by Alysia
on the lighter side, but still completely raw:
“Ode to Philip Seymour Hoffman” by Aimée
I’ll end with my recent revamp of the commonly used Marilyn Monroe quotation:
“It is true that you don’t deserve me at my best, if u can’t handle me at my worst, but you should probably know that my worst is intense and my best is brief.”
~Noelle Aviña 🙂